Wild Bill saw his comrade go down the shaft to the ground entrance, and there was a cloud on his brow when he turned from the windlass and spoke to the Comanches who had been taking in the scene with puzzled countenances. Not far from the cave entrance to the cliff habitations the ravine narrowed so that passage along it was beset with danger. The banks were steep and high, and climbing would be slow and difficult work. Buffalo Bill was too wise to attempt a journey through this narrow pass. Instead, he went up the hill where the ravine was wide, and did not stop until he had reached the summit. Here the trees were few and scattered, and to go on with an approach to safety he must flatten himself on the ground and work forward like a snake. He was making good progress, and was approaching ground where huge bowlders took the place of trees, when his quick ear caught the sound of a muffled groan in front of him, and not far away. In an instant he was concealed behind a large rock. The groan was repeated, and the scout, peering round the rock, saw an Indian crawl into view not ten yards away. His face was contorted with pain, and when he stopped and began to nurse one of his ankles, an explanation of the groaning seemed to be afforded. Seemed to be, for Buffalo Bill was not quite satisfied as to the genuineness of the Indian’s sufferings. Perhaps the Indian, who was an Apache, had seen the king of scouts and had resolved upon a ruse to make victory over the white enemy an easy one. So Buffalo Bill waited, and he smiled when, after a few moments, the Apache stretched himself at full length upon the summit and let out a groan that could have been heard a quarter of a mile away. The king of scouts, still smiling, picked up a stone of good size, and, watching his chance, flung it with all his force at the Indian’s head. The aim was a true one. The stone struck the Apache on the ear, and he jumped to his feet as if he had been on springs. For one short moment he looked toward the rock where Buffalo Bill was hidden, and then hastily retreated to the shelter of another rock a few feet from where he had fallen. The king of scouts could have shot the Indian while he was standing, but for many reasons he had not used his revolver. A shot might bring on a force of Apaches, who were probably close at hand. But Buffalo Bill resolved that the Indian should not leave the summit to report what he had encountered. Assured that stereotyped devices to deceive the Apache would not work, the king of scouts determined upon a course of flanking. With the large rock as a screen, he backed away until he reached a cut in the ground that extended diagonally for several hundred yards. Crawling in a direction that would bring him sidewise to the rear of the rock behind which the Apache was concealed, he reached the end of the cut, and then cautiously lifted his head and looked toward the Indian’s place of shelter.