But just then he was startled by a human groan near at hand and promptly forgot the pony. Striking a match, the scout eagerly scanned the place, and beheld a sight that sent thrills half joy and half uncertainty to his brain, while a feeling of rage swept over him. It was the form of Wild Bill lying on a pile of mouldy hay, bound hand and foot and a rude gag in his mouth. The Laramie man’s bruised face and head made him an object of pity. His face, hands, and clothing were soaked in blood and eyes closed in semi-conscious condition. The scout’s ready knife slashed the cords which bound his pard, and then he looked around. Near the cot was a pail filled with water, probably for the pony. Cody quickly brought it to the side of his wounded friend, and, kneeling, slopped the water freely in Hickok’s face and laved his brow and head, washing away the blood and gravel. He was rewarded in a few moments by seeing the Laramie man open his eyes and by hearing him faintly ask: “Where am I?” “With friends, old man; lie still.” The scout chafed the hands and wrists of his pard and laid a wet handkerchief on the fevered brow. He poured a little of the water down the parching throat, and was gently fanning the injured man with his hat when he heard a slight scuff of a shoe, and, glancing up, beheld Bloody Ike just entering the shaft. The man’s eyes had not become accustomed to the darkness, and he groped his way toward his cot, swearing to himself. “Don’t know whether I got the ombray or not. Landslide was bigger’n I expected,” he growled. “You’ll soon have your mind set at rest!” shouted Buffalo Bill, as with a bound like a panther he was upon the wretch. The man attempted to reach knife or gun, but was too slow, and then a fierce struggle began. For a minute or two they wrestled, and then both went down, with the scout on top. The rascal was frantically endeavoring to draw a revolver when a smashing blow from the scout’s fist ended the set-to. In two minutes more Bloody Ike was securely bound and had been dumped none too gently on his cot. Then the scout went to the mouth of the cavern and sent forth a prolonged “Hoo-hoo-o-o!” for his pards. CHAPTER VII. RED DICK’S CHOICE. Everything possible for the comfort of Wild Bill was done by his pards. Little Cayuse on the fleet Navi made all speed to Bozeman for a doctor, while Nomad and Skibo prepared a shelter in the open air, and the injured man was removed from the foul atmosphere of the old mine.