Summary

Portrait of Prentiss Ingraham Prentiss Ingraham Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won

The Indian warrior, a man of herculean frame and strength, might have given Buffalo Bill a desperate encounter, but, just as their knives clashed, there came a rapid clattering of hoofs, and from the dark timber-dashed Midnight, neighing loudly, as he rushed to the side of his master.
Believing a host of horsemen were upon him, the Sioux brave uttered a whoop of terror, and, before the scout could prevent, had darted away and disappeared in the thicket.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Prentiss Ingraham Prentiss Ingraham Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won

There was mounting in hot haste, and half a hundred horsemen swept out from the dark covert of a timber and spread over the starlit prairie in pursuit of a dark object, dimly visible, flying swiftly from the human bloodhounds upon his track, but so rapidly distancing them by the remarkable speed of his horse that, before long, in despair of ever capturing the daring foe, one by one the bandits returned to camp to talk over, around the replenished camp fires, the daring of the famous scout, and wonder at his marvelous escapes from death.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Prentiss Ingraham Prentiss Ingraham Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won

The fall had broken the outlaw’s arm. With a curse, he seized the weapon in his left hand and faced his foe, who was advancing quickly upon him, while Mary Hale, spellbound, sat on her horse like a statue, watching, waiting, and praying.
The weapon of Kent King flashed first. The aim with his left hand was untrue, for the one he fired upon still advanced upon him, and said, in clear tones:
“Kent King, I shall win my bet!”
“Great God! Are you man or spirit?” cried the Gambler Guide.
“Neither; I am Buffalo Bill,” was the rejoinder.
Source: Gutenberg

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