The Indians had squabbled for the whisky, had swallowed it, and now came rushing back. They were howling for the blood of the white man. “Take him!” said the outlaw. He stepped aside, drawing the apelike man with him. It was the end of Matt Shepard, one of the bravest of the sheriffs of the Western border. * * * * * The panicky survivors encountered Buffalo Bill’s party. The shooting and yelling had been heard, and the scout had hastened. “Better go back!” said Shepard’s deputy, whose name was Dugan. “Shepard’s dead or wounded, and the hull bilin’ that ain’t killed was captured, ceptin’ them that’s with me. They’ll wipe you clean off the slate, if you go there.” The other men with Dugan said much the same thing. Then they went on, riding and running in the direction of Blossom Range. The hubbub of the Indians had died out. Buffalo Bill took stock of the situation before moving on. The thing had a bad look. “It’s Benson’s work, of course,” he declared. “Benson’s and Gorilla Jake’s,” said Jim Betts. “They j’ined forces, ye know; fer they war shore together in that hole what Brother Bill thought he had blocked.” “They have given the Indians whisky.” “Hangin’s too good fer sech varmints,” Nomad declared. “I reckon, Cody,” suggested the man from Laramie, “that we’d better find out just how the land lies ahead of us, before we try to do much.” “How’re ye goin’ to git Benson, if he’s with the Utes, and the Utes air out fer that kind of fightin’?” asked Bill Betts. But they did not spend time discussing the situation uselessly. Under Buffalo Bill’s guidance they moved forward toward the point where the Indian attack had fallen. When close upon it, the scout and the man from Laramie went on, leaving the others to await the result of their inspection. The evidence of the bloody work of the crazy Ute warriors was plentiful and appalling. But they did not find Matt Shepard, alive or dead. “He was wounded, the boys reported,” said Hickok, “and I reckon they hauled him into the village. They’ll be torturing him next. The thing I’m wishing is that I could get Benson by the heels.” They were so close upon the Indian village that they had used the utmost caution in reaching the battle ground, and they could see right into the village, when they cared to take the chances of discovery to accomplish it. The Utes were making a lot of noise, and seemed engrossed in dancing and yelling. “Well, what shall we do?” asked Wild Bill. “I was just thinking of sending to the town for help. While our messenger is gone you and I might do something. If Shepard is in the hands of the Utes we want to know it.” “And if Benson is there we want to _get_ him.” “Right. I think he will be either in our hands or dead before this thing ends.”