“For the very good reason that none of the gang were in this neighborhood until two days ago. We are now preparing to light down on the murderous outfit and wipe it off the face of the earth.” Buffalo Bill, having heard Wild Bill’s explanation, astonished the tall border fighter by telling him of the abduction of pretty Sybil Hayden and the events of the past twenty-four hours. “We must move just as soon as my Yelpers get back with Thunder Cloud,” said Wild Bill resolutely. “I’ll make Thunder Cloud tell me where the outlaws are, and if we don’t give them a hot surprise, I’ll resign my job and go to herding squirrels.” Before the expiration of an hour the three Comanches returned. The Apache chief was not with them. They had found the camp of Buffalo Bill, but it was deserted. “Rescued by Black-face Ned,” was Buffalo Bill’s sour comment. “I half expected it.” In answer to questions put by Wild Bill, the spokesman of the trio stated that two white men had gone away from the camp with Thunder Cloud. The trail had been followed for a mile. There it ended on the sandy shore of the creek. “Took to the water,” said Wild Bill understandingly. “Never mind. We’ll find them, for I have trailers who can match any Hualapi that ever ate rattlesnakes.” “Better send out your trailers at once,” suggested Buffalo Bill. “If Black-face Ned’s force is small, he is on the retreat. The Apaches have probably told him about their enemies, the Yelping Crew; and he won’t likely desire to try conclusions with you.” “All right.” The trailers were dispatched on their mission, and pending their return the two scouts had a talk with the captured outlaws. Flag-pole Jack was almost stupefied with amazement when Wild Bill, with face exposed, entered the room, followed by the released king of scouts. But Shorty Sands showed no surprise. Neither did he seem pleased. “I shore tumbled to your game,” he said to Wild Bill, “when you failed to wipe out Cody when he was whar he couldn’t play a hand.” “How many men has Black-face Ned at his command?” demanded Wild Bill, with his eyes on Flag-pole Jack. “Ernuff ter wipe out your measly outfit, you kin bet yer boots on that,” was the surly answer. “Then he must have a mob of Apaches with him?” “He’s got Thunder Cloud’s band, an’ thar’s more’n fifty of ther reds.” “You lie, Jack,” put in Buffalo Bill sternly. “If the Indians were with Ned early this morning, one of them, a brave, would have been detailed to scout my camp. As it was, Thunder Cloud was the scout. That’s not the office for a chief, and you know it.” The outlaw grinned, and Shorty Sands laughed outright. “What do you find that is funny about this business?” said the king of scouts, with a frown.