Buffalo Bill and his flying column of cavalry saw and understood this move. Lieutenant Dick Danforth, the dashing young lieutenant who ranked in command of the party, spurred up beside Cody. “See that girl yonder?” he cried. “I see her,” returned the scout gravely. “She’s a messenger, eh?” “She is.” “Isn’t that the way into the cañon where those other Indians were lying in wait for us?” “You’re mighty right, lieutenant,” admitted the scout. “We must stop her!” The scout remained silent, measuring the distance between them and the flying White Antelope, and the mouth of the cañon as well. “We’ve _got_ to stop her!” exclaimed Dick Danforth. “How are you going to do it?” demanded Cody grimly. Danforth picked up his carbine quickly. Cody at once laid his hand on the young officer’s arm. “No, no, Dick!” he said, with feeling. “Not that!” “What do you mean, scout?” demanded the young officer, displeased. “You must not shoot that girl!” “Why, she’s a confounded squaw--and she’s an enemy--and she’s taking a message that may bring trouble to us all.” “She must be stopped; but you must not kill her.” “What’s the matter with you, Cody?” the young man demanded again. “She’s nothing but a redskin.” “There is another way--without taking her life,” declared the scout. “What makes you so tender of the squaw? Lord! I don’t ask _you_ to shoot her,” and the lieutenant raised his carbine again. Cody’s hand this time fell upon the lieutenant’s wrist with force, as he urged Chief alongside the other’s mount. “And by God, sir! _you_ shall not shoot her--above all men!” he cried. “What do you mean by this?” demanded Lieutenant Danforth, his face white as death. “I have a reason for killing every damned Indian that comes under my eye--you know _that_, Bill Cody!” “Perhaps; but not White Antelope,” said the scout earnestly. “And why not White Antelope, as you call her? Is she any better than any other of the devil’s red spawn? Let go of my arm! I’m going to shoot that girl!” “You are beside yourself!” exclaimed Cody coldly. “Do you want it told around your mess that you deliberately shot a squaw-woman?” “She’s a messenger, man!” “That’s no excuse.” “I tell you the red devils killed my people--butchered them! I saw my father with his head split open by an Indian hatchet! My mother was dragged away to a worse death, it’s likely. _I’ve sworn revenge on every redskin that walks the earth!_ Let go of me, Cody, or I’ll kill you!” “You are beside yourself, sir,” said the scout, still coldly. “You would not kill me, for I have always been your friend. It was I who got you your chance at West Point. It was I who made you what you are now. You’ll not kill _me_, Dick Danforth!” The two had ridden furiously ahead of the troopers, both bearing off toward the cañon’s mouth toward which the squaw was flying on her pony. The other men could not hear this conversation, jerked out between the jumps of the two great horses.