The next moment the scout’s fist shot out with catapultic power, and the Indian measured his length on the ground. Blows were rained on the victim’s head until he was reduced to a state of insensibility. CHAPTER X. THE SCOUT CAPTURED. Buffalo Bill did not remain by the side of his victim and await the return of sense. He made practical use of his time. He ate his breakfast, risking a small fire for coffee. While he was eating, the Apache opened his eyes. For some time he regarded the placid-faced king of scouts with a deeply malevolent expression. But when he spoke in the tongue of his tribe, the expression had disappeared. “Coffee for the great white warrior, cold water for Thunder Cloud.” Buffalo Bill started, then looked at the Apache keenly. “So you are the renowned Thunder Cloud, are you?” he inquired in the Indian language. The Apache nodded, and there was pride in his look. “A chief,” the king of scouts went on reproachfully, “who stoops to the work of the slinking, murderous brave. Thunder Cloud has forfeited the respect of his foes.” The Indian’s eyes blazed with anger. “The great white warrior speaks without thought. Thunder Cloud was whipped like a dog by the white captain, and now he is a chief without a tribe.” “Yes, I heard of that whipping,” returned the king of scouts cuttingly. “Thunder Cloud broke his parole, and Captain Foster punished him.” The Indian gnashed his teeth in savage recollection of the action which had disgraced him in the eyes of the Americans. There was silence for a few moments. Buffalo Bill broke it by asking: “Would the chief like a cup of coffee?” “Yes,” was the quick answer. The coffee was drunk, and then the king of scouts, believing the Indian to be in a fairly quiet frame of mind, said: “Why did the chief kill Panecho, the Hualapi?” Thunder Cloud frowned. He did not answer the question. It was repeated, and with sternness. The Apache noted the menacing expression in the scout’s eyes, and mumbled something about an old feud. “You are dodging the issue, Thunder Cloud,” said Buffalo Bill sharply. “I must know the truth. You are in my power. Why should I not kill you?” The Indian shut his lips tightly. He was a stoic. “Why not?” he repeated. The king of scouts took a new tack. “What if I take you to the village of the Hualapis and deliver you over to the brothers of Panecho?” Thunder Cloud shivered. “No, no,” he entreated. “Let the great white warrior take his revenge. Thunder Cloud is content to die by the hand of Buffalo Bill.” The king of scouts appeared to seriously consider the matter. “I’ll tell you what I will do,” he said, after a pause. “I will deal with you myself, if you, on your part, will tell me what made you shoot Panecho, and why you are in my camp, a spy.”