As Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill turned their horses about, Buffalo Bill dragging at the rawhide rein of the bridle of the horse ridden by the girl, a half dozen of the young Cheyennes turned in the same direction. In a flash Buffalo Bill, by his quick movement, had become their leader, showing them by his movement the direction in which they should ride, though that was far enough from his intent. And so, pell-mell, through the darkness, rode Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill and the half dozen young Cheyenne bucks, who were in a frenzy of excitement and fear, thinking that the troopers were upon them. They screamed their yells, and, whirling around on the backs of their ponies, they poured a stream of rifle and revolver shots in the direction of the firing of Ben Stevens. This bunching and crowding together of the Cheyennes and of the horses ridden by the scouts and the girl, caused some wild stumbles and much fractious rearing of the horses. The other Indians were riding wildly through the darkness, as could be told by the thunder of hoofs. The Cheyenne party had been suddenly split open as if it had been struck by a tornado. And all by the reckless daring of one white man, who seemed able, in his yelling and shooting, to make as much noise as if there were a dozen men about to charge! The rein of rawhide which Buffalo Bill held was jerked from his hand; but he shouted to the girl, now in English, telling her to follow, and to keep close by him. Her horse stumbled; and the scout stopped and again got hold of the rein. The darkness caused indescribable confusion. “This way!” Buffalo Bill yelled to his pard, again in Blackfoot. Wild Bill shouted back; and they tore thus through the crowding and scrambling mob of frightened Indians, who fell apart, thus giving a free passage. The darkness had grown so dense that they could see nothing clearly; but when they had ridden two or three hundred yards in that wild way they drew rein, the horses panting. “All right?” asked the scout. “All right here,” Wild Bill answered. “Are you all right, Miss Arlington?” the scout asked. There was no answer. Buffalo Bill rode close to her horse, struck by a sudden fear. She was not on the horse! “Good Heaven,” he cried to Wild Bill, “the girl isn’t here!” “No?” Wild Bill was equally astonished. “No, she isn’t here; and I was sure all the time she was with us.” “She fell from her horse in the rush and crush,” said Wild Bill, surprised and troubled. They sat listening. The yells of Ben Stevens had died away, and now the Indians were yelling to each other, for they were beginning to discover that they had been in a foolish panic. There were no charging troopers near, so far as they could discover; at least, no large body of them; otherwise, as they knew, the troopers would have pursued, and would have been pistoling and sabering right in their midst. But even yet they did not know just what had happened.