Had there been, a war-whoop from the struggling scamps would have been quite in order. But as they were evidently scouting with their main party at some distance, they were mighty careful about raising a racket and so bringing the soldiers up the hill to the aid of their unknown enemy. As for the latter, Buffalo Bill, he was not in the habit of singing out for help--not even when the odds were greater against him than upon this occasion. Having yanked the fellows back upon the ground twice, and pulling the lariat so taut that one Indian’s throat was almost cut, he taught the prisoners that he was master. He then, as shown, entangled their feet and legs, and so held them triced like a bale of hay. Being sure of handling them now, he came close, lashed the end of his lariat, and removed their knives and tomahawks. They had dropped their guns at the moment of the attack, and these the scout gathered up, too. Having made sure of the prisoners single-handed, the Border King walked composedly down toward the camp. The sentinel near the horses saw him coming and challenged: “Who goes there?” “It’s me, old man.” “Ah! I thought ’twas you, Cody. Where’d you go to back there a spell? All of a sudden I lost you.” “Why, I walked out to capture a couple of reds that were hanging about.” “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the man. “That’s a good one. I ain’t heard a thing to-night, have you?” “My horse did.” “What?” “Chief heard, or smelled, reds. And I’ve got ’em tied up out yonder,” said Buffalo Bill coolly. “Call your corporal and have ’em brought in.” “What’s that, Bill?” gasped the trooper. “Call the corporal.” “You don’t mean to say you’ve captured an Indian since you left me?” “Two.” “No!” “I tell you I have,” said Cody, with some exasperation. “Here are their arms. Get a move on you!” The surprised and half-doubting trooper made so much noise arousing his immediate officer that the lieutenant was awakened, too. He came down with the corporal and two men and went out with Cody to bring in the reds. It was a fact that none of the soldiers really believed Cody had captured two redskins until they saw the captives writhing on the ground. “And I wouldn’t have had ’em much longer if you fellows had stopped to chin any more. They’re most free,” said Cody. “Bill, you’re a wonder,” declared Dick Danforth. “Thanks. Bring ’em in. Let’s see who the scamps are.” This was done, the fire was renewed, and those of the troopers who had been aroused gathered around in a respectful circle to hear their lieutenant and the scout put the two bucks through their catechism. That they belonged to Oak Heart’s tribe was easy to learn; but beyond that the two young redskins were very non-committal. They had come scouting about the soldier camp for Death Killer, the new medicine chief of the Sioux; little else could the whites learn. “Who the deuce is this Death Killer, Bill?” demanded Lieutenant Danforth.