“Thar’s two things, Pard Hickok, that don’t speak until they’re ready ter strike—rattlesnakes an’ Injuns; an’ now I’m addin’ a third—this hyar wart hog what w’ars that three-cornered red nick in his forrud. Ef you’ll take a look at it by the flickin’ o’ that match which Buffler is recklessly usin’ this minute you’ll see that it’s redder’n common, like ther wattles of a turkey cock when it’s thinkin’ mischief.” “You’ve got as healthy an imagination as a kid schoolboy,” said Wild Bill, with his light laugh. “You’ll soon be finding a suspicious circumstance in the fact that he eats just like an ordinary man.” “But he don’t,” Nomad persisted; “he ain’t et a thing this evenin’, though thar war a lot o’ good chuck in thet war bag which Buffler opened up fer us. Thar’s somethin’ on his mind.” Wild Bill laughed again, skeptically. “What else, you superstitious old mummy?” “Don’t go ter callin’ me names, Hickok, fer I won’t stand it; but I’m watchin’ him constant. Ter-night I sleeps like er cat—wi’ one eye open. An’ I dunno but I’ll tie my scalp lock down, so’s he can’t lift my ha’r ef I sh’d fall asleep.” Then he, too, gave a laugh; but it had not the merriment of Wild Bill’s. Buffalo Bill talked much that evening with Little Cayuse and his three Apache scouts. The great scout trusted the Indians, for they had been true on many occasions; and though they had the redskin failings, they were faithful and marvelous trailers. The principal trouble with them was that they were more superstitious and more governed by signs than was even Nick Nomad. That afternoon, Little Cayuse had seen a circling vulture close his wings and drop like a hawk shooting downward at prey. It was bad medicine, for never before had he seen a thing like that; it foretold disaster—some enemy, he thought, was observing them from the high cliffs, and would drop on them with the suddenness of that drop of the vulture. Worse than this, Yuppah had crossed the trail of a three-legged sage rabbit. That there might be no mistake about it, Yuppah had slid from the back of his pony and closely inspected the rabbit’s tracks. The rabbit, he believed, had four legs, but for some reason which boded ill for this expedition, it was holding up one leg and using but three. Buffalo Bill tried to make Yuppah see that the rabbit had lost a leg; that a coyote had probably nabbed it at some time, and it had escaped with the loss of a leg, bitten off by the snap of the coyote. But Yuppah would not believe it; the rabbit had four legs, he said—all rabbits have—this was a spirit, or witch rabbit, and bad luck was sure to follow. That night Nick Nomad tried to sleep like a cat—with one eye open; but he failed, because he was too tired to lie awake all the time, and the night was so quiet it lulled one to sleep.