They knew that there was an unreadable page of her history to which she alone held the key. She talked like one who had seen much of the world, young as she was, and conversed with Surgeon Powell with much knowledge upon the military strength of the different powers of Europe, and launched off into the fine arts with equal fluency. She did not appear anxious to show her learning, yet understood well the political history of the country, and the faults and virtues of the different national parties. Her reading had been varied and instructive, and she seemed glad of a chance to discuss something else than hotel fare, gambling, and mining. When the officer and scout bade her good night and good-by, for they said they were to leave at an early hour the next morning, she asked, with a smile: “And is this to swing around the circle, Buffalo Bill, and still play the detective upon me?” “Indeed it is not,” answered the scout, flushing like a girl at the insinuation. “I am glad of it, for we must be friends, you know.” “We certainly shall be, if I am to have my way,” said the scout warmly. “And we are also to be friends, Doctor Powell, for candidly, I will not do aught to cause either of you any trouble, and if I fight you, should anything turn up to cause me to do so, it shall be by strategy, not force.” “Then we may as well acknowledge ourselves beaten when we are to measure strength in strategy with a woman,” said Surgeon Powell. “For shame, to acknowledge defeat before the combat. It is not like you, Doctor Powell.” “I am dealing with a woman now, Bonnie Belle, not a man.” “Well, do not you or Buffalo Bill track me, for it will do no good, I assure you. I know that you wish to thwart me in setting my brother free, and from your standpoint you are right. But all that I could do in the matter I have done.” “And failed?” said Buffalo Bill, with a smile. “I leave that for you to decide, gentlemen. But, good night.” She grasped the hand of each in her frank way, and they left her. When they went to pay their score, the clerk told them that there was no charge against them, as they were the guests of the fair mistress of the Frying Pan. They could but accept the courtesy, and the clerk said that an early breakfast had been ordered for them. And so the next morning they turned their backs upon Pocket City, and took the trail for Pioneer Post. Their way led by the Hangman’s Gulch, and they turned in there to have a look at the numerous graves of the victims who had suffered there, dying at the end of a rope. The two freshly made graves of Tom and Jerry were there, and, as he looked at them, Buffalo Bill said: “Twice have I come very near being placed here, Frank.” “You have indeed, Bill.” “Once Deadshot Dean saved me from Powder Face Pete and his gang, and you saved me the next time by your timely arrival, for those fellows intended hanging me.” “And Bonnie Belle saved us both, Bill,” was the answer.