That Dick Danforth, the young lieutenant, was beside himself, was easily to be seen. He was not responsible at the moment for his actions or speech. “That gal must not be harmed, Danforth,” said Cody firmly. “If you hold any gratitude in your heart toward me, show it now. I demand that the girl be unharmed--now or at any other time--and especially at your hand.” The scout’s seriousness--aye, his passion in saying this--impressed Danforth so deeply that his own rage gave place to wonder. “Why, what do you know about her, Cody? Who is she?” “It does not matter. I must have your promise. _You_ must never harm the White Antelope. Indeed, you must guard her and keep others from harming her with your life; do you understand?” “No, I _don’t_ understand. And I won’t help an Injun.” “You will do as I say, Dick.” “No!” “I demand it, Dick!” said the scout feelingly. “That is not fair, Cody!” “It is fair. I saved your life. I made you what you are. I have a right to some return, and I demand this.” “Oh, thunder, Bill!” ejaculated Dick Danforth, more in his usual light tone than before. “If you put it _that_ way----” “I do.” “Then I’ll have to promise.” “Very well, my boy. I hold you to your word.” “But don’t you ever ask me to save an Injun again, for I won’t do it!” “All right.” “And while we’ve been rowing, that blamed squaw is getting away. She’ll carry the alarm to the other Indians as sure as shooting!” “She won’t!” returned the scout, with confidence. “Ride on with your men, Dick. Cut your way through that gang of reds to the gates of the fort if necessary. Off with you! Leave the girl to me!” With a wave of his hand he clapped spurs to Chief, and pulled sharply on his rein. The girl had almost reached the mouth of the cañon when Cody started in direct pursuit. CHAPTER XIII. THE CHASE OF THE WHITE ANTELOPE. The Border King did not pick his way as he spurred the great white horse down the declivity after the flying Indian girl. He allowed Chief to guide himself, for he felt confidence in the horse’s sense. They went down the hill like an avalanche, and an avalanche of small stones and broken brush went with them. To the troopers behind on the ridge, to the defenders of the fort, and to the Indians themselves who saw the charge of the big white horse, it seemed that neither horse nor rider could reach the bottom alive. But Chief did not even lose his stride in going down, and at the bottom, in answer to a sharp tug on the rein, he turned and shot away along the trail after the disappearing White Antelope. Oak Heart and his braves saw the act, and knew Cody’s reason for chasing the young squaw. Half the army of Sioux would have started in pursuit; but Dick Danforth’s troopers were sweeping down the hill by a smoother road, and would cut the Indians off from the entrance to the cañon. The reds were balked.