ilt into the beast's throat.

There was a spurt of blood, a bellow of pain, and the bull staggered
back several steps.

He was badly wounded, but by no means out of the fight, as his glaring
eyes still showed. He shook his head vigorously, then charged again.

Once more the knife went up and came down, this time just below the
beast's ear. A fearful bellow came after the stroke. Before the bull
could retire, the knife was withdrawn and plunged in a third and last
time. This third stroke wound up the encounter, for limping to one side
the bull fell forward upon his knees, gave a kick or two with his hind
legs, and rolled over on the prairie grass, dead.

"Hurrah! Pawnee has killed him."

"Talk about yer bull fighters! They ain't in it with Pawnee!"

"Yer saved my life," exclaimed Clemmer, who had risen. "I shan't forget
yer, Pawnee," and he held out his broad hand for a shake.

The bull dead, Pawnee Brown called Buckley up and gave him a lecture for
not having killed the vicious beast long ago.

"You have no business to bring such a bull into camp in the first place,
Buckley," he said. "Be more careful in the future, or you'll have to get
out, bag and baggage. That bull might have killed half a dozen people
had he charged the crowd."

A short while after this the great scout and Clemmer set off from
Honnewell along the ravine in search of Dick, Rasco and Nellie Winthrop.
The cheering news from Washington had set Pawnee Brown at rest so far as
his duty to the boomers was concerned, and he felt quite free to pursue
his own affairs and those of his immediate friends.

"If possible I would like to meet Louis Vorlange and have a talk with
him," he said to Clemmer, after having related what had occurred near
Peter Day's home. "I think that spy can clear up much of this mystery
concerning Mortimer Arbuckle, if he will."

"It ain't likely he'll open his trap," answered Clemmer. "By doin' thet
he'd only be gettin' himself in hot water."

"We'll make him speak," was Pawnee Brown's grim response.

An hour of hard riding brought them to the spot where Dick had been
left. Not a single trace of the lad could be found. Both men looked
blank.

"Bet he's wandered off and got lost," said Clemmer, and Pawnee Brown
nodded.

"We'll strike off eastward, Cal, and see if we can't find some trace of
him. It is no use of going westward. If he had gone that way, he would
have reached the ravine and come up into Kansas."

Once a