Good-bys were said, and the pards left the settler guarding his herd with rifle across his knees, and keen eyes constantly scanning the plain. The scout determined to return directly to the mountain retreat of the miners and hear the reports of the other parties before continuing the hunt. He was anxious to capture Price and Ike, and he was just as desirous of getting in touch with White-man-runs-him, who had promised to guide him to the headquarters of Sitting Bull himself, somewhere along the Big Horn Cañon. The scout had little fear of the red trailer disappointing him, for he knew Indian traits so well. He also knew that it would be useless to hunt for White-man-runs-him, and felt quite confident the trailer would show up by the allotted day on the next moon, but he wondered where the Indian could be spending the time, meanwhile. Several days passed and the search for Price and Ike was still unrewarded. The scout and his pards had scoured the mountains for miles in every direction unavailingly. If the outlaws were there they had a safe hiding place and food supply. But the search had brought its reward in one way, for the miners had discovered gold and a lead that promised fortune. They were happy, in consequence, and already were talking of the joys of returning East with money to pay off mortgages, buy homes, educate children, etc. It was such as these who blazed the trail--men driven to face with grim determination the hardships of such a life, by the necessities of loved ones--wives or aged parents, who needed homes; children who deserved opportunities in the future. One morning very early an Indian stalked into camp, much to the surprise and alarm of the miners, at first. “How?” he said, and sat by the fire without another word. Buffalo Bill had not arisen from his blanket, but came out, extended his hand, said “how,” and sat beside the Indian. Neither spoke until breakfast had been prepared and eaten and the pipes had been lighted, then the Indian asked: “Is Pa-e-has-ka ready?” “He is, White-man-runs-him,” the scout answered. “It is good,” said the Indian, pulling steadily at his pipe. At last the Indian arose and said: “Come.” “How far?” asked the scout. “Two suns.” “With ponies?” “One sun.” “We will go with ponies,” said the scout. “Good.” Cayuse saddled Bear Paw and brought out the pony that had followed from the plain, for the Indian. White-man-runs-him examined the pony carefully and expressed himself with: “Heap good pony.” “Yes,” answered the scout; “he is a very good pony; he is yours.” “Ugh!” grunted the Indian, once more going over the handsome little animal, and then swinging upon his back with evident satisfaction. Buffalo Bill’s pards were left in the hills and continued to prosecute the search for Price and Ike, while the scout rode off to visit Sitting Bull, near Big Horn Cañon.