He whistled, and, receiving no answer, shouted in a voice that could be heard far up the mountain. Still no answer. “Pshaw!” he said to himself, in disgust, “of course the prisoners are gagged. They could not answer if they wanted to.” After a short debate with himself he returned to the Indian. Thunder Cloud was sitting up, and, though his face was flushed, Buffalo Bill knew by the state of his eyes that the danger point had been passed. “You are out of the woods,” he said kindly, as he came and stood by Thunder Cloud’s side. “In a little while you will be able to walk. But you won’t be in shape for work for several days.” The Indian’s head was lowered. He was looking fixedly at the ground. The king of scouts waited for the redskin to speak. Several moments passed before Thunder Cloud raised his head and looked his rescuer full in the face. “Thunder Cloud owes his life to the great white warrior. Thunder Cloud must pay the debt.” Buffalo Bill said nothing in reply. But there was smiling appreciation in his expression. “Thunder Cloud is no more the enemy of the great white warrior, Pa-e-has-ka,” the Apache chief slowly continued. “Glad to hear it,” replied the king of scouts earnestly. “This deadly enmity business isn’t what it is cracked up to be.” “Thunder Cloud asks humbly what must he do to show his gratitude?” “Well,” said Buffalo Bill, “there are a number of things you can do. First, trot out some information. What made you go into the tunnel?” “Thunder Cloud went to find out what had become of his friend Black-face Ned.” “You knew, of course, that there had been a fight in the cellar. What became of the white man who was attacked by Ned and Bat Wason?” “He is a prisoner in the castle.” This intelligence was unexpected. Buffalo Bill’s face clouded. “Was he captured outside the castle?” he asked. “Yes, he ran into the arms of Thunder Cloud’s braves at the front.” “Didn’t he make a fight?” “No, he was running for the door when my braves came out of the grove. They fell upon him before he could turn his head. There were shots fired.” “After the capture you went to the cellar and found that Black-face Ned and the prisoners had gone, eh?” “The prisoners had not gone. They were in the room where lies the dead body of the white man they called Pigeon-toed Ike.” The king of scouts stared at the Indian in amazement. “They did not go off with Black-face Ned and Bat Wason?” he said, incredulity struggling with surprise. “How did that happen?” Thunder Cloud shook his head. “Can guess why, but don’t know for sure,” he replied. “Well, give a guess.” “Black-face Ned and his friend were scared. They wanted to get away, and they thought they couldn’t go fast if they took the prisoners with them. The prisoners might hang back, and they could not be carried.”