Her attitude evidently astonished Bennett as much as it did Cody himself, for the renegade cried: “Why has the White Antelope become the friend of the slayer of her people? The man she shelters is Pa-e-has-ka, the Long Hair.” “The arrow of the White Antelope brings blood from the arm of Pa-e-has-ka. Is that the way in which a Sioux shows friendship?” asked the young girl scornfully. “Then the White Antelope yields the paleface foe to the medicine chief of her tribe?” “No!” was the decided response. “What would you do?” demanded the renegade angrily. “I will deliver Pa-e-has-ka to the great chief, my father, Oak Heart.” “The White Antelope is no warrior,” sneered the renegade. “Are there not braves enough loyal to Oak Heart to carry out his will upon this paleface?” “The White Antelope may be no warrior,” said the girl; “but she has just saved the life of the Death Killer.” At this Buffalo Bill laughed aloud, for the shot was a good one, and his seeming indifference to his peril caused the daughter of the chief to turn her eyes upon him. She scanned the scout from head to foot. What was in her thoughts he could not guess; but, suddenly, deciding upon a course of action, she stepped boldly to the side of Buffalo Bill, and touched with tender fingers the wounded arm which he had bared. “If the Long Hair has ointment for the wound, it would be better to bind it,” she said to him. Buffalo Bill opened his pouch, and the girl found the salve and bandages he always carried. Meanwhile, the scout sucked the wound to remove any foreign matter that might have been driven into it by the arrowhead. Then the Indian maiden bound up the hurt while the renegade looked on sullenly. “Why is the Long Hair here--so near the village of the Sioux?” she asked Buffalo Bill, when this act of kindness was performed. “I chanced upon the place. I saw the dead. Here lies my friend--the young man whom I loved as a son,” said the scout, pointing to the body of Danforth. “He and his men have been all slain by the Sioux.” “They were enemies,” said the girl simply. “But they had not come out to disturb the red men.” “Why were they here?” “To find and take prisoner that villain yonder!” exclaimed Buffalo Bill, scowling at Boyd Bennett in his war-paint and feathers. “That man who is neither white nor red, but a squaw-man! He had committed crimes against the white man’s law and should be punished by that law.” “My father heard that the palefaces were coming to seize him.” “Another lie of that renegade!” exclaimed the scout. “And while I mourned over the body of this young man, the villain came upon me, returning, as he declares, to tear the scalp from the head of the white chief whom he was not brave enough himself to kill!” The girl seemed to understand. She glanced from the body of Danforth to the rage-inflamed face of Boyd Bennett. “Is it from this dead white chief’s head the Killer would take the scalp?” she asked haughtily.