Back to the bandit’s trail the scout rode, and the white stallion flung mile after mile of the rocky way beneath his feet. Bennett and his companion had not tried to disguise their trail. Evidently they felt either sure of no pursuit, or considered themselves a match for Buffalo Bill. Bennett probably did not think that the Indians themselves would miss White Antelope until the trail was stale and he would be too far away with the girl to be overtaken. The pursuer came upon the place where the trio had camped at noon. They had boldly built a fire and cooked food, and Cody even found the marks of the girl’s moccasins in the soft ground beside the trail. Perhaps she had shrewdly stepped there when her captors were not looking, hoping that their trail was being followed. At another place she had torn some beadwork from her garments and flung it on the ground. “She’s a sharp girl, all right,” said Cody to himself. “And if she has confidence in my following and saving her, I swear it shall not be misplaced!” Before night, however, the scout received a shock which made him almost despair. The trail he was following came down into a great valley through the middle of which flowed a broad river. On the river’s bank the hoof-marks of Bennett’s mount and his companion’s were joined by those of a dozen other horses! “They’ve been caught, by thunder!” was Cody’s first thought. Then he saw that this supposition was entirely wrong, and his heart sank. These were not unshod Indian ponies. Nor could they be a party of peaceful travelers who had joined Bennett and his friend. It was the rest of the gang. The outlaws had here joined their leader, and, instead of following two scoundrels, the scout was up against the entire gang--and single-handed! Then did he wish that he had sought out a part of Captain Keyes’ command and brought them on this hunt for the bandit leader and his helpless captive. He shuddered to think of what might be White Antelope’s fate among these ruffians. He could not go back now for help; and yet, if he overtook the gang, what could he, a man alone, do toward getting the girl free? Yet Buffalo Bill, the Border King, had spent years of his life in taking chances. He had been up against as serious odds before, and had come out on top. He did not hesitate for a single instant, but crossed the river at the ford, and followed the hoof-prints of the gang up the opposite bank of the river. If they were making for their rendezvous, well and good. He would at least learn one--perhaps the principal--hiding-place of the gang, and later could bring a party to overwhelm them. Meantime, he would trust to luck and a merciful Providence to assist him in obtaining White Antelope’s release unharmed from the villainous crew. CHAPTER XL. THE FREIGHT-TRAIN.