“You’re a brave little fellow, that’s what you are!” declared Dell admiringly.
“I’m Buffalo Bill’s girl pard,” laughed Dell. “And I’m your pard, too, Cayuse, if you’ll have me for one.”
“No like um squaw pard. Squaw make um fire, boil um kettle, sew um beads on moccasins, no go on war-path with braves.”
“I’m different from the ordinary run of squaws, Cayuse,” said Dell, with a humorous side-glance at the scout.
“You throw um knife heap fine,” observed Cayuse.
“I can shoot as well as I can throw a knife.”
“Umph! You make um squaw your pard, Pa-e-has-ka?”
“Squaw your pard, squaw my pard. Shake um hand.”
Cayuse lifted his hand--his left one--and the compact was sealed.
“Now that that formality is over, Cayuse,” said Buffalo Bill, “you might tell us how you came to be strung up there against the cliff.”
“Cayuse no good. Make um worst break this grass. Let Apaches and paleface ketch um.”
“Wuh. One paleface, five Apaches. Paleface make um heap swear, say Cayuse tell um if Pa-e-has-ka sent um. Cayuse no tell um. Apaches haul Cayuse up with rope. Ugh.”
“There has been underhand work at the mine, Cayuse,” explained Buffalo Bill. “Bascomb and Bernritter have taken away McGowan’s daughter, who was coming from ’Frisco, and the arrow that was shot into camp contained a message. Understand?”
“The message was from Bascomb and Bernritter, and stated that if McGowan would not agree not to prosecute them for their attempt to get the mine bullion the other day, and would not leave a bar of gold at the old shaft near the Black Cañon trail, he would never see his daughter again.”
The boy fixed his eyes on the scout’s face.
“Apaches and bad white men got heap black hearts,” said he. “You like ketch um white man that string me up?”
“Yes, if we can. He’s probably in this plot with Bascomb and Bernritter. If we could capture him we might be able to discover something of importance.”
“That’s too many for me,” said the scout.
“I know where it is,” spoke up Dell. “It’s about two miles and a half from here.”
“Paleface go there. Say he meet other paleface name Hendricks at Squaw Rock. Tell Apaches come Squaw Rock report if they make trouble for Buffalo Bill. Me hear um say so.”
“Good!” exclaimed the scout. “That gives us something to work on, Dell, and we won’t have to go back to the camp and wait for Nomad to carry that agreement and that bar of bullion to the deserted shaft.”