The troopers had told the story in full. Captain Hinkley and his guard had been buried, and the coach-driver, as well. The soldiers had a most revengeful feeling toward Boyd Bennett and his outlaw band, and Danforth went back to Resistence with his troop, threatening slaughter for the road-agents if he could catch them. The activities of the Indians, however, disturbed Buffalo Bill and the commander of Fort Advance more than the work of the outlaw, at just this time. The Border King, with Texas Jack, set out on a mission soon after his return to the fort. Ten days later Lieutenant Danforth, with a squadron of men, was allowed to make an attempt to bring in Boyd Bennett by the commandant of Post Resistence. Buffalo Bill was still away on his scouting expedition and did not know of this. He was deep in the Indian country, and had found nothing of real significance regarding any concerted movement among the Sioux, although there was plenty of excitement. Little bands of warriors were going back and forth, from encampment to encampment; but nothing was being accomplished by the redskins. “What does it look like to you, old man?” queried the Border King of his partner. “Are we barking up the wrong tree?” “Dunno,” replied Texas Jack, pursing up his lips and looking more serious than usual. “There may be a coon in the crotch; but we certainly haven’t shook him down.” “How does all this running back and forth from teepee to teepee strike you?” “Looks like the reds was given more tuh society than us’al, Buffler. But, Great Scott! you can’t never tell what’s in a red’s mind when he’s planning some game.” “There is surely no outbreak planned for the immediate future, eh?” “No. These runners aren’t gathering the tribe. I reckon Oak Heart got his belly full and won’t trouble us for some time.” “But this new medicine-man they’ve got?” “Humph! Death Killer, eh? Nice name that! I’d like a squint at him.” “Me, too.” “Wonder if we couldn’t sneak over to Oak Heart’s town and take this Death Killer into camp?” “Kidnap him?” “Yep.” “You’re a cool one, Jack, my boy. What’ll the reds be doing meanwhile?” “That’s all that stops me--that question,” replied Texas, with a grin. This conversation took place beside a running brook, in the heart of a great forest many miles from Fort Advance, where our story first opened. The wind soughed through the tree tops and brought scurrying to earth the dying leaves which proclaimed the fast approach of King Winter. Suddenly Cody rose upon his feet and keenly snuffed the air. “What’s th’ matter, Bill? What d’yer scent?” “I’ve been smelling it for an hour, Jack.” “What is it?” “Smoke.” “Huh! here’s wood burning at your feet.” “No, no!” exclaimed the other. “This breeze is rising and is blowing more steadily than it did. And it brings the smoke to us. Look up through the tree tops. D’ye see how hazy it’s grown?” “Umph-ah!” “Nothing to fool over, Jack. It’s a big fire.” “D’yer believe so, Bill?”