Under the horse’s neck he had a very clear view of the girl on the pony in front, although she could not easily aim at any vital part of the scout in the position in which he hung from Chief. As the young squaw turned sidewise to larrup her pony again with the quirt hanging to her wrist, Buffalo Bill took a snap shot at the quiver of arrows at her back. It was a perilous shot--if he did not wish to harm the girl. Few marksmen would have dared try it. William Tell was a bungler, indeed, as compared with some of the marksmen of our great West, and William F. Cody was, in his day, the best of them all! His pistol ball sped true. The thong from which the quiver hung was severed, and if the hot lead seared the girl’s shoulder in passing it did no more! The quiver fell to the ground; but the girl had still a remaining arrow--it was already upon her bowstring. She turned swiftly to drive it home--perhaps into the heart of the great white horse that bore her enemy so swiftly. Buffalo Bill realized the danger to his noble steed. He sprang upright into the saddle, the smoking pistol still in his hand. His appearance as a fair target attracted the Indian maiden’s aim. She drew the arrowhead to her ear. But the white man’s pistol spoke before she could release the feathered shaft. Crack! The long-barreled revolver spit its death-dealing bullet, and the smoke enveloped Buffalo Bill’s head for a moment and then passed away. Twang! That was the snap of the bowstring. But the arrow flew wildly in the air, over the scout’s head. The bullet had severed the deer tendon of which the string was made just as the girl released the shaft. Buffalo Bill had taken another desperate shot--and had won. The bow was put out of commission, but the bullet had not touched the fair user of the bow. White Antelope threw away her broken implement in wrath, and lashed her pony again. But he, poor creature, was coming to the end of his leash. His little legs could not carry even so light a burden as herself much farther. Buffalo Bill saw that this was so, and he spoke to Chief, dropping the pistol back into its holster again. The great white horse redoubled his effort. He shot along the trail as though he was fresh from the stable. This spurt of speed brought the scout beside the Indian girl and her mount so quickly that White Antelope had no time to cast herself to the ground as she had intended. Even as she screamed and would have leaped to certain death, the white horse came neck and neck with her mount, Cody leaned over and seized her around the waist with his right arm, and, drawing his pistol this time with his left hand, shot the Indian pony through the head! He could not afford to have the relieved beast run on to the ambushed Indians miles up the cañon and so warn them of what was being done. The pony staggered on a few yards and fell dead. Chief leaped the fallen body and then came to a stop.