“If she goes back to Pocket City she means mischief of some kind, for having failed to rescue her brother by strategy she will do so by force, I feel sure. If she was really the ally of her brother it is certain that the outlaw she wounded did not know it, for no look passed between them that I could see, and she would not have fired on him had she known him. I would find it hard to believe that Bonnie Belle is in league with outlaws.” Thus mused the scout as he rode on after the coach. It was night when he reached the station where Horseshoe Ned’s run ended, and he went at once to the hotel. He found Ned there and learned that his passenger had taken the outgoing coach eastward. “That settles it,” mused the scout. “She goes East and not to Pocket City. She has given up the idea of rescue as impossible. Poor girl, I pity her, and only wish she loved one in some way worthy of her deep regard.” Then he said aloud: “Well, Ned, what do you think of Miss Arden?” “I think she is just the dandyest girl I ever crossed ther trail of, Bill. What a team she and Miss Clarice Carr would make together, for thar’s another one I sets great store by. But, Bill, ef yer hed seen Miss Arden work up thet lettle racket to a climax yer’d hev died o’ joy. “Yer see I give up all for gone, when she talked ther same way and invited thet sarpint ter take ther things. She opened ther satchel and out come a gun, and oh, my! Bill, she’s ther deadest shot I ever seen, barrin’ you and Surgeon Powell.” “She has nerve of an uncommon order, Ned, and she sends a bullet to dead center. But where is your prisoner?” “He’s in ther tavern under guard, the doctor havin’ fixed up his wounds.” “Are they very bad?” “Ther leetle bone in his right arm were smashed, and ther bullet grazed the one in his left, but he’ll be well enough to hang with t’others of ther gang, for it’s his neck we wants in prime condition for thet occasion. But whar is you goin’, Bill?” “I thought I would ride on here and see if you needed any aid going back with your man?” “No, indeed, for I’ll tie him on the box with me; but I’ll be glad of your company, Bill, if you will go along.” “Thank you, no, for I’ll continue on in my scouting along the range to-morrow.” Staying that night at the tavern, Buffalo Bill left bright and early the next morning, taking the trail for Yellow Dust Valley. He was well-mounted, and it was not yet sunset when he rode by the lonely cabin of the miner, Deadshot Dean, where he had so nearly lost his life at the hands of the desperadoes who had captured him as Silk Lasso Sam. The cabin was closed and doubly locked, and an air of desolation and desertion was upon all. The scout had hitched his horse down in the valley, and walked up to the cabin. Going to the rear of it, around the cliff he stood gazing at the fine view from that point until suddenly he heard a noise near the cabin.