After three days of easy journeying, the party reached a white settlement on the shores of the lake, and there Buffalo Bill, Congo, and Captain Meinhold secured horses on which they could journey to Fort McPherson quickly.  
The rest of the party would follow at their leisure, but it was imperative for Buffalo Bill to reach the fort, as from that place he would be able to speedily make the necessary arrangements for Hare’s ransom.
 
He well knew the danger of delay in this matter. If the presents did not arrive within the stipulated time, it was likely enough that the Indians, always more or less suspicious in their nature, would decline to wait any longer, but would at once proceed to torture the unfortunate captive to death.
 
No doubt Running Water would do his best to prevent this, but his influence with the tribe over which he was chief seemed to be less than that of Black Panther—at all events, in this matter.
 
Fort McPherson was safely reached without any incidents worthy of record happening on the way.
 
The commandant already knew of the loss of the schooner; for the men who had escaped in the other boat, from which the Buffalo Bill party had been separated in the storm, had made their way to the fort just before, reporting that they were the sole survivors.
 
There was naturally much rejoicing among the officers and soldiers when they found that so many others of their comrades had also managed to save their lives, and especially at the fact that the women were safe.
 
The commandant listened with deep interest to the story of their adventures in Running Water’s village, as told to him by Buffalo Bill and Captain Meinhold.
 
He was at first inclined to send a force of soldiers back with Buffalo Bill to punish the Indians for daring to capture a white man, hold him captive, and threaten to put him to death by torture.
 
Buffalo Bill, however, managed to persuade him that this would be neither fair nor wise.
 
He pointed out that the Indians had been kind and hospitable toward the shipwrecked party until Hare shot one of their number, that then they had only thought to carry out their idea of strict justice, and that in the end they had been willing to temper even that with mercy.
 
If soldiers were sent after them under such conditions, the faith of the redskins in the fair dealing of the whites would be shattered all through the country.
 
The commandant recognized the force of these arguments, and satisfied himself with helping the king of the scouts to get together the promised presents for the red men.
 
There was little difficulty in arranging this, and two days after his arrival at the fort Buffalo Bill set out on his way back to Running Water’s village, accompanied by Joe Congo, Wild Bill, and Captain Meinhold, the latter obtaining a short leave of absence for the purpose.
 
“After deserting you and Hare in the way I did,” the officer said to the border king, “I could never feel easy in my mind unless I saw the end of this business.”
 
“It was not desertion at all,” replied Cody. “You only did what you thought was your duty to the women. But I shall be very glad of your company on the trip, all the same.”
 
The Indian village was reached three days before the end of the period of reprieve which had been granted by the council to the captive.
 
“I was beginning to grow nervous,” Hare confessed, as he shook hands warmly with Buffalo Bill. “I knew you would not desert me, but as the time drew toward an end I feared that you might have met with some accident that would delay you, or even prevent you from coming at all.”
 
The man had been well treated by the Indians during his period of captivity, but he had been closely watched night and day. Even had he been disposed to disregard Cody’s advice against attempting to escape, he would have found no chance to do so.
 
All of the Indians, from Running Water himself down to the youngest brave, were delighted with the presents. They fell short in no particular of the border king’s pictured descriptions. On the contrary, they exceeded the wildest anticipations of the red men.
 
The horses and the rifles were particularly admired, for they were far better than any the tribe could get. But unfortunately there was one item of the ransom which led to trouble; it was the whisky.
 
Buffalo Bill had hesitated whether he should bring it with him. He was much opposed to the selling or giving of fire water to the redskins, and had always fought bitterly against it.
 
Sure enough, that night the whisky caused trouble, as it always does among palefaces as well as redskins.
 
Buffalo Bill and his friend had arrived at the village in the middle of the afternoon, and by the time the Indians had finished inspecting the presents and talking with the whites it needed only about two hours to sunset.
 
Buffalo Bill proposed to start on his journey back at once, taking Hare with him. He feared that the Indians would indulge in a drunken orgy that night, and it might not be safe for the white men to remain in the village. At all events, there would be a risk of trouble, for the worst passions of the braves would almost certainly be aroused by the whisky.
 
But Running Water would by no means hear of their going. Hospitable as ever, he begged Buffalo Bill and his friends to stay and take part in the great feast which would be held that night to celebrate the wealth that had come to his band.
 
Buffalo Bill tried hard to get out of the invitation, but the chief and his braves were so insistent that in the end he was obliged to give way, very much against his will.
 
The feast started early, and enormous quantities of meat were consumed by the gluttonous braves.
 
Unfortunately enormous quantities of whisky were drunk also.
 
It was not long before the ugly traits in the Indian character began to come to the front.
 
Several of the braves, reeling to their feet, yelled and shouted defiantly at one another, declaring, as most men are apt to do when they are drunk, that they could “lick the earth.”
 
Old enemies and feuds were recalled under the influence of the liquor, and there would have been more than one deadly fight had it not been for the restraining influence of Running Water, aided by Buffalo Bill and the other whites, who had become very popular with most of the warriors on account of the rich presents they had brought.
 
The old chief was a pretty clever diplomatist, and he succeeded in calming down the angry braves until the more drunken and quarrelsome of them, taking more of the whisky, sank into a stupor.
 
Black Panther was one of those who had indulged heavily, but the liquor did not seem to take quite the same effect on him as it did on the others.
 
He seemed to retain his senses perfectly, but, as he took drink after drink, his fierce black eyes became fixed upon the white men with an even deadlier glance of hatred.
 
He did not think of any quarrels that he might have with his own tribesmen. One of the great passions of his life was hatred of the whites, and it came uppermost now.
 
This hatred was particularly concentrated upon Buffalo Bill, whom he knew to be the leader of the little party.
 
The memory of the presents he had received that afternoon did not soothe him, by any means. Indeed, he had clean forgotten them under the influence of the whisky. He thought of only one thing............