The white chief of the Comanches arose to his feet. “Why did you not tell me this before?” he asked. “Could I tell you before I was sure you were in sympathy with my cause?” was the cold reply. “No, certainly not. You were wise to hold back your story. You want my help in getting Colonel Hayden out of the clutches of Black-face Ned and his Indian and white marauders and murderers. Well, you shall have it. I never meant to keep you a prisoner. Your capture was a joke.” “A joke?”—gazing at the masked leader in astonishment. “Why——” A ringing laugh cut short the speech. “Fooled you to the limit, old son. Never guessed the deception, did you?” Buffalo Bill stared hard at the speaker. The truth was creeping into his mind. With one quick movement the wolf face was removed. The king of scouts looked up into the smiling countenance of Wild Bill Hickok. CHAPTER XI. AN OLD FRIEND REAPPEARS. The two old-time partners and fellow scouts and Indian fighters grasped hands, Wild Bill’s knife having quickly cut the thongs that had held the prisoner’s wrists. After the handclasp, the king of scouts was given the use of his feet. Before entering upon an explanation, Wild Bill issued an order to three of his Indians and they immediately set out to find Thunder Cloud and convey him to the cliff. “Now,” said Wild Bill, after the Comanches had departed, “I’ll try to satisfy your curiosity.” Buffalo Bill, seated on the couch of skins and smoking a fine cigar, nodded. “You are in a curious position,” he said. “I can’t imagine how you got into it.” “Accident, Cody, put me where I am. I had been hunting over on the Continental Divide when, unluckily, I provided myself with a badly sprained ankle. I couldn’t travel, and I believe I would have starved to death if one of the Yelping Crew had not seen and come to my rescue. The band was far away from their stamping ground—they had been out hunting like myself—and so I was brought here. Their chief was dead, and there was no one in the band capable of leading them. Some of them knew me by reputation, and when I was well enough to get about, what do you think? I was asked to become the chief, pro tem.” “Pro tem?” repeated Buffalo Bill. “Why not permanently?” “Because there was a Comanche in the line of succession. The fellow was in Mexico, and a messenger had been sent there to notify him that he could be chief of the Yelpers if he cared to undertake the job.” “You accepted—your position here shows that, Hickok. But what induced you to do so?” “A desire to assist the United States government. The Apaches are giving trouble again, and the soldier boys are having hard work to find them. Now, my Yelpers know all the Apaches’ holes, and they are the sworn enemies of the Apaches. Already we have had one brush with the enemy, and it was a win-out.” “Why have you not descended on Black-face Ned and his gang?”