Buffalo Bill rehearsed the story of the kidnaping in all its details, so far as they were known, mentioning what had been said about old Fire Top and his Toltec Indians, called the Red Feathers. “Tell me what you know about old Fire Top and his Red Feathers,” he said in conclusion, “and what it was made you think Fire Top probably had a hand in his present case.” Conover was still hesitating; and after that question was asked so squarely he did not speak for some seconds. Once or twice he put his hand up to the scarlet scar on his forehead, apparently not knowing that he did it, and his hand trembled. “Could I talk with you alone about this, Cody?” he said finally. Old Nick Nomad, squatting silent in his chair, shot Conover a distrustful glance. “Certainly,” Buffalo Bill answered, rising. “We can go into that cell you occupied, or——” “Oh, we’ll clear out—go outside,” said Wild Bill, also rising. But though he made the offer so quickly, he, too, seemed not at all pleased. The office was cleared, and Buffalo Bill remained alone with the prisoner. “Maybe I’m pertickler, and I know them fellers didn’t like it,” said Conover. “But what I’m goin’ to say concerns that time I deserted you—flunked like a coward, over on the Niobrara.” “I haven’t forgotten it,” the scout admitted quickly. Conover glanced away at the window, as if he desired to avoid the scout’s direct gaze. “Up to that time,” Buffalo Bill added slowly, “we had been good pards.” “And never was afterward,” Conover added. “That’s right; I went my way, and you went yours. They haven’t happened to cross since, until to-day.” “I’d like to make myself right about that Niobrara bizness, if I can; but maybe I can’t. We was ringed in by old Rattlesnake’s Pawnees, you know, and our horses was hid in some cottonwoods down by the river, and you was wounded.” “I’ll never forget it.” “I wisht that I could,” said Conover. “I’ve wisht that a thousand times since. But forgettin’ the past is a hard bizness, as I’ve found. Well, though you was wounded, you said you thought you could hold them rocks where we were against the Pawnees, and for me to sneak out and git the horses, and then make a dash in with ’em, your idea being that maybe I could rush through the Pawnee line up to the rocks in the darkness, when you could climb to the back of your horse, and perhaps both of us git away. It seemed the only chance, and it was as desperate a one as any man ever figured on takin’.” “I’ll never forget it!” the scout repeated.