The island was well wooded. It contained about half an acre and was long and narrow. It was so long that from the bank to which Cody had again turned his mount, he could not see whether the bandit found some immediate way of leaving it, and so reaching the farther shore of the river, or not. There was no time to waste for Buffalo Bill, therefore. He must press after the man and the girl, giving the former no time to recover his strength, and, perhaps, make his escape from the island. But Chief could not help his master across the deep water to the ledgy island. Nor could Buffalo Bill make it encumbered by his heavy accouterments. That was not to be considered for a moment! He dismounted and let Chief go free. The old horse had done his share well, and as soon as he was relieved of the saddle and bridle, he lay down and rolled as though to get the cramps out of his body. The water of the river was ice-cold. It even made Cody shrink when he contemplated it. His only way of reaching the island was by swimming, and against that current, and with the chill evening coming on, the scout might well hesitate. But not for long. What must be done would better be done quickly, and the Border King was well inured to exposure and cold. He threw aside his ammunition-belt and his weapons. His coat, waistcoat, and outer shirt went likewise. Off came his riding-boots, and then in his undergarment, and with his bowie between his teeth, he plunged into the flood and essayed the venture. Whether he was being watched from the island by his enemy, Cody did not know. But this was the only way he saw to get at Boyd Bennett and the girl. He was matching his life against the bandit’s now, in the last desperate act of the series which had followed the abduction of White Antelope early the day before. CHAPTER XLV. WAR TO THE KNIFE. And, indeed, Boyd Bennett was almost at his last gasp when he dragged himself ashore and put the nearest clump of brush between him and the water, thus hiding his future movements from the sharp eyes of the Border King. There the man fell upon the meager sward that clothed this part of the island, and lay, gasping like a great fish just out of its element, almost helpless with exhaustion. The White Antelope, had she recovered consciousness and power of action during those first few minutes, might easily have escaped from her captor. But she had come nearer being drowned than was at all pleasant. She lay so still and white where Bennett had flung her upon the ground, that even he, hardened villain that he was, feared his usage of her delicate body had been too much for the spirit that inhabited it, and that the breath was already sped from the girl.