The Apache, who was without honor, and who would have betrayed his best friend if he saw a chance of personal profit, promptly replied: “Thunder Cloud killed Panecho because the Hualapi was hot on the trail of Thunder Cloud’s friend.” “Just as I supposed,” remarked Buffalo Bill quietly. “You have hired yourself out to that white villain, Black-face Ned.” Thunder Cloud nodded, and then in answer to another question said that Colonel Hayden had been overcome while he was walking along the trail. Buffalo Bill guessed how the colonel had been caught. He had arisen early and had gone down the cañon, hoping to come upon the camp of the abductor of his daughter before the coming of daylight. On the way he had been attacked by a sentinel posted by the white outlaw, and was now in the power of the man he had so much cause to hate and fear. “How long has Black-face Ned been in camp?” the scout asked. “Since yesterday morning.” “Who is with him?” “Three white men.” This was unlooked-for intelligence. The king of scouts arose to his feet. The situation had changed. It would not be safe to remain longer in this open space. The four white men, all outlaws, so Buffalo Bill believed, would not likely stay in camp longer than was necessary for the return of Thunder Cloud, who had been sent up the trail to ascertain who had come with Colonel Hayden. After placing a gag in the Indian’s mouth, the scout concealed two of the rifles, and with the third in his hand left the camp and stole noiselessly toward the rendezvous of the enemy. As he went forward he considered the statement the Indian had made. Black-face Ned was with friends. Did he expect to find them in the Hualapi hills when he set out across the desert? The scout believed that the meeting had been prearranged. The three white men were probably the members of Black-face Ned’s band who had eluded capture when the band was broken up. The rendezvous in the hills was an old one, and was probably off the trail and in a secure place. After an hour’s journey, Buffalo Bill heard a suspicious noise in the bushes in front of him. He instantly left the trail, and, climbing the hill, got behind a bowlder. He was scarcely out of sight before two white men appeared on the trail directly below him. One was tall, lean, and angular, with a broken nose and an ugly disfigurement of the lower lip. One-half of the lip was of treble the thickness of the other half, and hung down so as to disclose the teeth, which were long, yellow, and fanglike. The eyes were small and piercing, and looked out under shaggy brows that were contracted in a habitual scowl. The other man was shorter in stature, had a round, red face, with a happy-go-lucky expression. He was red-haired, and wore a shoe-brush mustache. The tall man was smooth-faced.