“We are the remnants of the bravest and most fearless nation of redskins that ever made Uncle Sam sit up and take notice. The disguise was adopted at the suggestion of the leader who preceded me, and who was killed by a fall about a month ago. We are the natural enemies of the Apaches, and Silver Moon, the dead one, thought the Comanches could better work in wolfskin than in their ordinary raiment.” “What do you call yourselves?” “The Yelping Crew. Appropriate name, isn’t it?” “Very,” said Buffalo Bill dryly. The leader of the Crew lazily lighted a cigarette, then tossed paper and tobacco pouch to the prisoner. “We yelp to some purpose,” the strange man continued. “During the last year we have wiped out seventy Apaches.” “Then you cannot be an enemy of mine or an enemy of the United States government?” “No-o,” was the slow reply. “I am not your enemy, and yet I am not quite ready to say I am your friend.” “How can that be? You must be one thing or the other?” “Let me explain,” returned the leader of the Yelping Crew composedly. “You were found with two of the worst rascals in America. These fellows, Flag-pole Jack and Shorty Sands—you see, I know them—the pards of Black-face Ned, who is hand in glove with the Apaches. Thunder Cloud is with Black-face Ned now.” “Beg pardon,” interrupted Buffalo Bill quickly, “but you are in error on two points. Thunder Cloud is not with Black-face Ned, and Thunder Cloud has been cast out by the Apaches.” “I may not have literally struck it when I said Thunder Cloud is now with Ned,” replied the disguised white man calmly, “but I did strike it when I said Ned is thick with the Apaches. The chief has not been cast out by this tribe. He broke his parole, and was whipped like a dog, but his tribe did not turn on him for a little thing like that. On the contrary, his braves backed him up when he swore revenge. He has plotted to kill the captain who ordered the lashes and the colonel who approved the order.” The king of scouts felt a cold chill strike his spine. “What is the colonel’s name?” he asked. “Hayden.” A groan escaped the brave scout’s lips. The keen eyes behind the wolf mask expressed both curiosity and sympathy. There ensued a long pause. It was broken by Buffalo Bill. Speaking abruptly, he said: “I am putting you up to be a friend. I need a friend’s help. I not only desire to be set at liberty, but I want your assistance. Will you give it?” The leader of the Yelping Crew laughed softly. “You are not very modest in your demands,” he replied coolly. “I am what I am,” rejoined the king of scouts sharply. Then he went on quickly and earnestly: “Colonel Hayden is a prisoner in the hands of Black-face Ned. Thunder Cloud is down in the cañon bound hand and foot. I surprised him while he was trying to execute a murderous order given him by Black-face Ned. The Indian must be removed from the cañon or the outlaw will find and release him.”