It would be said among the Utah Sioux, and from them spread to the Utes, Arapahoes, and others, that Pa-e-has-ka was afraid to keep his promise. And from the time he first journeyed across the plains Buffalo Bill had kept his agreements in every particular with the red man, friend or foe alike. He was one of the few white men “without guile.” He said what he meant, and meant what he said, and he was considered single-tongued by all, though he was up to every craftiness that his enemies might try upon him. Cody now wished to undermine the popularity of Boyd Bennett among Oak Heart’s braves. Even if he got through the medicine chief’s guards and reached the council-lodge of the Sioux, he would have to face the influence of the renegade, and that might overcome him to the extent of his life’s sacrifice. The scout was not the man to go blindly into a trap. Death Killer, as he called himself, was playing the traitor. Cody wished to convince Red Knife of this fact and send him back to the encampment to spread the tale against Death Killer. To this end he used the cunning which he had long cultivated in his association with the redskins. He well knew the regard in which the Indian holds his medicine-bag. If he could restore to Red Knife his medicine, or, rather, supply him with a new amulet that would make him a man and a citizen again, the scout could command his good offices to almost any extent. But the scout said nothing further that night. He let his observations regarding the renegade Bennett sink into the red man’s mind. In the morning he fed him bountifully again. When he had finished, Red Knife showed that he had digested Cody’s remarks well, and was in some measure grateful for the entertainment shown him. “The Long Hair is my brother. He has warmed me and fed me. If the Long Hair really desires to appear before Oak Heart and the old men of the tribe, as he has promised, Red Knife may show him a way.” “Ah!” exclaimed the scout. “Some way that Death Killer is not guarding with his braves, eh?” “It may be.” “In which direction is it?” “The Long Hair knows the direction of the encampment, perhaps? Red Knife, wandering in broken spirit, has lost his way.” “Oh, you want to know the direction of the place?” “It is so. The lodges of his people will not receive Red Knife, but he may point them out, by a secret way, to the Long Hair.” “Humph! Let’s see the direction,” muttered Cody, and drew from under his shirt a small compass in a brass cup which was hung about his neck by a strong cord. The Indian’s eyes suddenly glistened. Here was the great white’s chief’s medicine, and Red Knife was greatly interested in medicines just then! He peered closely at the cup which Cody held in his hand. The latter noticed the brave’s eagerness, and he knew instinctively what was passing through the red’s mind.