Apparently the horse had given them so much trouble to capture him that they had turned their ponies in to make his acquaintance and perhaps soothe his ruffled temper. But Hide-rack had evidently decided to form no new acquaintance. As Nomad reached a position from which he could command a view of the pocket, his “horse pard” was just in the act of making an impression on the ponies. The impression they got was of a vicious pair of heels that seemed shooting out in all directions at once. The Indians, fearing for the legs if not the lives of their ponies, rushed in to take a hand. Then old Nomad broke loose with a wild: “Yip-yip-yar-r-r! Hide-rack, give it to ’em, ole hoss! Don’t let no dirty redskin put a hand onto ye! Soak ’em, ole pard!” And Hide-rack, in response to his master’s voice, did “soak ’em.” He rushed at the Indians like a mad thing, biting, striking, and kicking. Before they could get out of the way the horse laid out two of the red men and was pursuing the third, who ran like a deer straight through the camp fire, with the vengeful Hide-rack only one jump behind. The savage dodged among the rocks and escaped, while Hide-rack capered up to Bear Paw with a whinny of delight. “Ye kicked ther tarnal stuffin’ outen um, didn’t ye, ole pard?” yelled Nomad in high glee, as he cantered back across the plain. It was the fourth day when Nomad’s party reached Avery’s ranch and found all well, and no Indians had been seen for several days. Two days later Buffalo Bill, Hickok, and Skibo arrived, to rest a bit before continuing their labors. CHAPTER XXXI. THE BOY BUGLER WINS. “What’s ther verdict, Willie--aire yer comin’ erlong, er be ye goin’ ter stay ’th yer paw an’ maw?” asked old Nomad, who sat with the boy and Skibo. “I don’t know, yet; Mr. Cody an’ Mr. Avery are talkin’ with dad and ma, now. I’m all ready--got my rifle cleaned an’ loaded, an’ my bugle in my saddlebag. Whee! I hope I go,” sighed the youngster. “I hopes yer does, kid, ’cause yer kind o’ livens us ole fellers up when times git dull, an’ ther redskins fergit ter ’tend ter bus’ness.” “Yah, yah! Dat’s what Ah reckons--dis yere kid go toot-toot on de boogie an’ de sabage he gits his moggins goin’ fer de tall timber on de lively. Ah specks Mars’ Billyum don’ hab no mo’ do but jes’ go ’long nachally an’ pick up de skins o’ dem dar red debils--coz why? Coz dey run plumb outen ’em tryin’ fer git ’way f’m dat tooter.” “You’re makin’ fun of me now, Skibo.” “No, no! ’Deed Ah ain’t, Billie boy. Ah’s jes’ nachally tickled coz Mars’ Billyum he tell yo’ fadder an’ yo’ mudder yo’s better off ’f yo’ goes ’long--yah! Ah’s jes’ tickled ’s de hoss Hide-rack’d be ’f ’e had fo’ mo’ laigs ter kick wiv; dat’s what Ah is, Billie boy.” “See hyar, Skibo, ye needn’t go ter hingin’ on Hide-rack’s repertation. ’Taint none ter brag on much, but sech as he has, he’s goin’ ter keep, ef he does play tit-tat-too on er nigger’s trouserloons now an’ ergin.”