“Bring them in, Skibo, if not alive some other way,” answered the scout quietly. “Yah, yah! dat’s what Ah will, Mars’ Billyum; if Ah gets one o’ dem lily-white han’s ob mine onto um. Dat’s what Ah will, Mars’ Billyum.” “Never mind the color of the hands, so long as they are honest,” said the scout. “Them’s my sentiments,” piped Nomad. As soon as it was light enough to see, the four parties were searching every nook, and in accordance with Buffalo Bill’s orders, were making as little noise and disturbance as possible. This was observed for the double purpose of hiding their movements from the men they were after, and to avoid attracting the attention of stray bands of Sioux, who might be in that territory. The scout and young Corey made directly west into the heart of the hills. The boy was in the seventh heaven of the real thing in happiness. To have been selected as the companion in this man hunt, by the famous scout himself, was honor enough for one boy. That Buffalo Bill chose the lad because he wished to see that no harm came to him, did not occur to the boy. The scout found the wiry legs and toil-hardened body of the boy could stand the hardships of mountain climbing as well as any man. Indeed, young Corey bounded from rock to rock with the agility of a monkey and was as sure of his footing and as fearless. Unlike most boys, whose faces are shining with happiness and whose minds are overflowing with enthusiasm for the work in hand, young Corey was quiet and almost wordless except when a question was addressed to him by the scout. Cody liked this trait--it was the inherent strong point in the character of a good scout. It was a delightful day in the cool, breezy hills. The air was laden with life-building ozone, and fairly pungent in its light and bracing purity. The scout, himself, felt the joyous effect of the day and companion. What whole-souled man can say that he does not enjoy the presence of a clean, pure-minded youth? And Buffalo Bill always loved strong, wholesome, brave, and honest boys. He thoroughly liked this manly chap and determined to see that he was returned safely to his parents and sisters. They paused for lunch, where a little mountain stream eddied listlessly in a sandy-shored basin, in a rock-bound gulch. It was cool and shadowy there, with the odor of the pines and other evergreens which eked out a stunted existence on the almost bare rock. The boy had produced a fishhook and line and caught a fine string of trout and grayling, and these were broiled over glowing coals, to be seasoned with salt and pepper from the scout’s pocket case. Can a boy imagine anything more delightful than camping in the open with a man whose daring exploits are being read by the whole world? Any boy might expect an adventure at any moment from the very love of adventure to get in Buffalo Bill’s way. And to young Corey it came with such suddenness as to almost take his breath away.