“Jack has been on duty night and day, Cody,” objected Major Baldwin. “He volunteered to make the attempt before, but I vetoed it. I needed his presence and advice. To let you both go is like putting all my eggs in one basket and sending them to a dangerous market.” “He’s the man I want,” said Buffalo Bill firmly. “All right! Let Omohondreau be sent for,” the major said, turning to an orderly. CHAPTER V. THE DESPERATE VENTURE. Texas Jack’s real name was Jean Omohondreau, and he came of a wealthy and noble French family, although he was born in America. It is said that he had refused the title of “Marquis of Omohondreau,” although later he was known as “The White King of the Pawnees,” having been adopted into that tribe and completely winning the confidence of the red men. At this time Jack was smooth shaven, and with his deeply bronzed features and piercing eyes and black hair he did not look unlike an Indian. Besides, he had lived among the savages even more than Buffalo Bill himself, and had that imitative faculty so general in French people. He could “take off” the savage to the life. When Texas Jack came sleepily enough from his bunk, it took but a few words from Cody to wake his old pard up. The moment Jack understood what was wanted of him, he was in for the plan, heart and soul. Oak Heart, who had been entertained--possibly to his great surprise, although he had not shown such emotion in his hard old face--by the younger officers with food and drink, and some of the paleface’s real tobacco, instead of dried willow bark, was now given a uniform and slouch hat in place of his war-bonnet and beaded and befeathered buckskin suit and gay blanket. The natural acquisitiveness of the Indian character, and the childish joy they have in new finery, possibly made the chief ignore what was done with his old garments. Texas Jack made himself look the Indian brave to the life, put on Chief Oak Heart’s abandoned finery, and, mounting the splendid white cavalry charger--but with saddle hidden by his blanket--was ready to accompany Buffalo Bill. The latter sprang into the saddle of his claybank--“Buckskin”--and led the way through the open gate. Behind them was the surprised Oak Heart upon Buffalo Bill’s old black, and the soldiers were ready to set him free the moment the two scouts had crossed the danger zone. The Indians had retired sullenly after Oak Heart’s capture, and White Antelope had as yet been unable to rally them to another charge upon the stockade. Their last charge had been disastrous, and they had not only lost their principal chief, but had been unable to bring back to their camping lines many of the dead and injured. But the belt of red humanity still encircled the fort, and it was plain that they proposed to abide there until such time arrived as could compass their revenge.