To his surprise and annoyance the Indian was not there. Soon a light broke in upon his understanding. The Apache was as wise as he, and had tried the same game. Back along the cut the king of scouts hurried, and was nearly at the point from which he had entered the depression when he saw the Indian’s head projected from behind a mesquite bush that grew on one side of the cut. Quick as a flash, Buffalo Bill was out of the cut and behind the rock that shortly before had sheltered him. The Apache had not had time to fire, and the king of scouts, immensely relieved at the circumstances, looked out to find that the Indian had withdrawn from a position of danger, and was nowhere to be seen. But it was apparent to Buffalo Bill that the cunning enemy was behind one of the bowlders near the cut. The situation in one sense was to the liking of the famous Indian fighter. He was anxious at this time to avoid a commotion that would bring down upon him a mob of savages, for a fight then and there, even if it resulted in the scout’s escape, might prevent a descent upon the camp of Black-face Ned and his Indian allies. If the Apache could be captured or put out of the way without noise, the scout might pursue his journey under favorable auspices. And the Indian must be rendered powerless for harm, the king of scouts resolved, and so he welcomed the approaching battle of wits. For some time no move was made by either white or red man. One thing was in Buffalo Bill’s favor: The Apache could not leave his hiding place to reach either the cut or the rocks on the other side of the scout without being observed. On the other hand, Buffalo Bill could go forward toward the destination he had set out to make without exposing himself. He resolved to do this in the hope that he would be able to bring the Apache out of cover and to a point from which an attack could safely be made. Without noise, he backed to the rock originally used by the Apache, and from that to another, and so on until he had placed himself a quarter of mile beyond the Apache’s station. Here in a hollow, between two bowlders whence he could command a view of the country in all directions, he waited for what was to come. For ten minutes he waited in vain. Then he saw the Indian crawl out of the cut and throw himself on the ground and listen for sounds. Hearing nothing and evidently puzzled, he crept to the rock that had been his hiding place after Buffalo Bill had thrown the stone, and a low exclamation escaped him as his eyes fell upon the scout’s prints in the sand. Now he proceeded with the utmost circumspection to follow the trail the white enemy had left.