At intervals Buffalo Bill rode his horse to the top of some hill or ridge, and from these higher elevations surveyed the surrounding country with his field glass. While thus engaged, he beheld a horseman, some distance away. When he leveled the glass on this horseman, he was given a genuine surprise, for the man was Panther Pete, and he resembled the scout in his general appearance and make-up so strongly that Buffalo Bill knew he was looking on his counterpart--on Panther Pete, the rascal who had played his desperate game so successfully that for a long time he had deceived the whole country as to his real identity. The scout’s anger rose as he looked at that man. Then he came to the quick determination to capture the rascal, if it could be done. He moved back, and, dismounting, tied his horse; then crept forward. He noted the course Panther Pete was taking, and saw that he would pass along a thread of trail that led beneath some bluffs not far off. The scout drew back, and then, descending, he hurried to put himself on top of those bluffs. By this time Panther Pete was quite near, coming on at an easy jog of his horse. There was nothing in his appearance to tell of the pain he suffered, for his head was throbbing, nor of what he had gone through, nor of what he was now trying to do. But Buffalo Bill saw his chance, a desperate one, and made ready for it, crouching on the bluff. He could have shot Panther Pete without difficulty, but he did not want to do that; he wanted to take him alive. When Panther Pete’s horse passed beneath him, Buffalo Bill crouched for the spring. “I’ll stop your deviltry right now,” said the scout, in a rage, as he leaped at the desperado whose clever masquerading as his double had brought disgrace on the honored name of Buffalo Bill. He hit the horseman fair, in that leap; and Panther Pete went over sideways, out of the saddle, and fell to the ground, with the dauntless scout falling on top of him. The horse gave a jump, and then ran, frightened by what had occurred. Buffalo Bill set his fingers to the throat of Panther Pete, who was too stunned by that sudden onslaught and fall to make much resistance. “Surrender!” was the sharp command. Panther Pete tried to struggle, but he was helpless. “Surrender!” “I--I surrender!” the rascal gurgled in fright. Buffalo Bill lifted his revolver and fired it, for the purpose of summoning Wild Bill; and soon after he heard the clatter of Wild Bill’s pony--the pony that had been the property of Garland. They soon came in sight round the end of the hill--Garland mounted in front and tied, and behind him, on the same pony, Wild Bill, with revolver ready. There was never a more astonished man than Garland, when the pony had brought him under the bluffs, and he saw there his leader, helpless and choking in the grasp of Buffalo Bill. Wild Bill slid from the back of the pony and ran to his pard’s aid. “Just tie him, as quick as you can,” said Buffalo Bill.