“But git me out of this, Cody,” he added, “and I’ll do what I can; I’ll try to redeem myself. And say nothing about that old Niobrara matter to Wild Bill and Nomad. They wouldn’t understand it, as you do; they’d think I hadn’t changed, and was ready to desert, or lead you into ambush, and things of that kind. Just keep that from ’em, will ye?” Buffalo Bill nodded and stepped toward the door. “That’s all right, Conover,” he declared. “Unless you make it necessary, I’ll say nothing to them about it.” “You’ve never mentioned it to ’em?” came the question, in a troubled tone. “For, if you have——” “I’ve never thought of speaking about it,” the scout asserted. “I suppose you’ve had too many other things to think about, to keep remembering a thing like that, so long ago?” “You’re right there, Conover. Shall I call them in now?” Conover hesitated again. “Yes,” he said, “might as well, I reckon; but I’m thinkin’ they won’t be overwell pleased to know I’m to be not only their pard, but their guide. I could see they didn’t like me.” Wild Bill, Nomad, and Woods, the marshal, were asked by the scout to come into the office. Then he laid out before them so much of the conversation had with Conover as was needed to let them know that Toltec Tom was to be a member of the party which was to hit the trail of the kidnaping Indians and follow it wherever it went. Nick Nomad, squatting in his chair, still shot distrustful looks at Tom Conover. “I don’t like his face,” he said to Wild Bill, after the interview had ended. “Why not?” Hickok inquired. “You see that red scar on his forrud, re’chin’ up inter his ha’r?” “Yes; but what of it?” “It’s bad medicine.” Hickok laughed with light incredulity. “Laugh ef yer wanter,” growled the trapper; “but ef thet critter goes along wi’ us you’ll be laughin’ outer ther t’other side o’ yer mouth afore we sees this hyar town o’ Skyline ag’in.” “Rot! Why, you superstitious old gorilla, what’s a scar on a man’s head got to do with his character?” “Lissen ter me,” said Nomad impressively: “Ther fust man I ever see what had a scar jes’ like that war a hoss thief what stole frum me ther best hoss I ever had—old Nebuchadnezzar; and that man war hung.” “You hanged him?” “I helped to do it; I pulled hard on ther rope.” “And the second one?” said Wild Bill, laughing. “Ther second one tolled me inter a game of poker some y’ars back when I war greener than I am now, and swindled me outer everything I had, leavin’ me on’y the old clo’es I stood in; and he’d no doubt took them if they’d been wuth it.” “And the third one?” “Is this hyar feller that they calls Toltec Tom. Ef he goes wi’ us he’ll do us; an’ that’s what he’s goin’ fer; no other reason.” “You get worse and worse all the time, Nomad!” “But even you don’t like him, Hickok!” the shrewd old fellow declared. “Thet’s ther truth, an’ yer knows it; you don’t like ther looks of him any more’n I do. Admit it.” “I admit it.” “Then, shell we let him go with us?”