“I know’d ther kin folks w’u’d dig her up some night, ef I didn’t, so I did, an’ them as was comin’ ter do it seen me, an’ I jist hed ter light out from them parts.” “Well, you look the ghoul you are: but go on with your work, for life’s too short to listen to your sins, old man!” The ex-sexton resumed his work, with a sigh, and soon had an opening which brought from the scout the remark: “No Injun could wish for more than that, Ginger Sam, and you are the boss gravedigger of the Big Horn, whatever your other sins may be. Now wrap that Injun in his blanket and lay him in it.” “Won’t yer scalp him?” “No. Come, delay no further, but bury that man, for I wish to be on my way,” said Buffalo Bill. “Whar goin’?” “You’ll know all in good time.” The man muttered an oath, but obeyed orders, and when the redskin had been buried, Buffalo Bill bound Ginger Sam securely with one end of his lariat, and forced the man to go on his way in the lead. After gaining a point where the trail led across a river, Buffalo Bill said: “Cross over, Ginger!” “What do yer want ter cross fer?” was the surly response. “I have my reasons, so wade in.” “No; I don’t keen ter git wet.” “Very well, take the back trail for the grave you dug; it will hold two,” said Bill indifferently. The outlaw shuddered, and replied quickly: “I’ll cross the river.” “Right are you, Sammy, my boy.” Into the water they went, and, once on the other shore, where a number of trails divided, Buffalo Bill selected the one that would lead him to the fort. “Thet trail only goes up into ther hills,” said the outlaw nervously. “It is into the hills I wish to go.” “Ther’ ain’t nothin’ up thar yer want.” “There’s where you are off your base, Ginger, for there is.” “What do yer want?” “I desire that you shall take the quickest trail to the fort.” “I’ll die fust,” was the savage reply. “You had better do as I ask, for I am not one to palaver.” “I’ll not go a step.” “Then I’ll lead you there,” was the quiet reply. The outlaw saw that Buffalo Bill was in earnest, and his thoughts flashed like lightning through his brain. His gaze falling upon the lariat end, held loosely in the hand of Buffalo Bill, his eyes suddenly gleamed with inborn resolve, and he said resignedly: “Waal, pard, as I don’t know thet I kin kick agin’ yer, I’ll do as you say.” “Right, Sammy! Now, move on!” The outlaw obeyed, taking the trail once more with nimble step. As it wound along the edge of a ravine, through the bed of which dashed a stream, the outlaw suddenly sprang over the precipice into the depths below. Buffalo Bill caught hard at the end of the lariat, as it tightened, but could not hold on, and the end slipped through his hand, and a plunge following told him that his captive had fallen into the waters below. CHAPTER XIX. A DOUBLE ESCAPE.