He had just twenty-five miles to go to reach the fort, and in two hours and a half he dashed through the stockade gate, and up to the colonel’s quarters, the gallant roan staggering under him, and with a groan dropping dead as the scout sprang from his saddle. The colonel heard of his rapid coming, and met him on the piazza, where there were a number of officers and ladies, among the latter Clarice Carr and Nina de Sutro. “Colonel Dunwoody, I have to report overtaking the coach a mile beyond Deep Dell Brook, sir, and found Horseshoe Ned half-dazed from a wound in his head, made, I believe, by a rock, and inside the stage the dead body of Detective Raymond, shot through the heart. “He had been robbed, as also was the coach of the mail and the luggage it carried, while Surgeon Powell, the prisoner, and the other two detectives were missing. “There was evidence of a severe struggle, sir, and so I took one of Ned’s horses and rode back, leaving mine to rest, while, as I came through the gate I ordered another horse which I will return on at once so as to take the trail before night. “With your permission, sir, I would like to take a dozen of my men, and ask for Captain Caruth with a score of his troopers to follow me, for I will mark my trail well, sir.” “Cody, you are worth a hundred men at any time, and I can now understand your riding your horse to death. There comes Texas Jack with another animal for you, so give him your orders and do you start back at once, while your scouts can follow, and Captain Caruth will take his entire troop. There must be no mistake about catching those fellows who have been guilty of this outrage.” With a salute to the colonel Buffalo Bill turned to his fresh horse, Texas Jack having taken the saddle and bridle from the dead animal and placed them upon the one he had led up for his chief. “Jack, get twelve of the men and provisions in plenty and follow me at once to Deep Dell Brook, where Captain Caruth and his troop are coming also.” “We will be there, Bill,” was the answer of Texas Jack. Dropping into the saddle, with a wave of his hand, Buffalo Bill dashed away like the wind. “Deep Dell Brook in two hours at that pace, and another dead horse,” said Texas Jack as he saw his chief dash away like the wind, settling himself in his saddle as he started down the hill, as though it really was his intention to reach the scene of the tragedy in two hours or kill the horse he rode. The scouts were ready fifteen minutes after the departure of Buffalo Bill, and within half an hour the troop of Captain Caruth rode out of quarters on their path. The scouts, twelve dashing fellows under Texas Jack, had settled down to a quick trot, and were just disappearing from sight in the distance when Captain Caruth started off with his men. It was an hour before sunset when the scouts reached the Deep Dell Brook. They threw themselves from their horses to give them a rest, and they set about looking for “signs.”