Both the outlaws fired at the trapper, one pinking the flesh at the point of his shoulder. But old Nomad had been waiting too long for excitement to hesitate at the first smell of powder. Driving the spurs to Hide-rack’s sides without a glance at the trail he was taking, the trapper found himself flying through the air, or, rather, a veil of dust, to land in a heap with the surprised Hide-rack. Over they went, the rider luckily escaping injury from the flying feet of the excited and struggling horse. By the time Nomad had regained his feet he could see Cayuse just rounding an angle in the wall fifty rods away. “Waugh! Hide-rack! Yip-yip-yar-r-r! Git out ov it, ye heifercat! What ye rollin’ round hyar in ther sand fer? Ye hain’t goin’ ter let thet aire red-blooded, no-’count Navi beat ye, be ye?” Hide-rack shook his head, and little sprays of sand flew out from each ear. “That’s ther stuff! Git ther sand outer yore ears, an’ mebbe ye c’n hyar me murmur. Mebbeso I mought shake my head ef ther aujience don’t object, an’ then I could make out if theys any more explosions. “Waugh! Ther next time I goes in swimmin’ I hopes ther water won’t be so r’ily. Ugh! Gut sand enough in my crop ter make er estridge boozy. Shirt feels ’zef ’twas made er sandpaper. By ther tarnation ten spots! I b’lieves ther pesky lead peddler teched me--ther’ seems ter be mud on thet thar left shoulder er mine. Howsomever, I cyant bother ’th thet when the’s more due me an’ er plumb good chanst ter c’lect up. “Waugh! Hide-rack! Don’t ye think ye better shake yer heels er bit! Mebbe the’s sand in yer butes, ’cause why ye don’t ketch up ter thet redskin varmint down front.” By the time Buffalo Bill and Hickok had discovered the cañon, old Nomad had rounded the bend in hot pursuit of the flying Navi. Price and his partner were making the best time possible, and apparently hoped to outstrip their pursuers. If they knew the locality they could hardly have selected a better place in which to traverse a long stretch of country without the possibility of being observed from any direction. Little Cayuse was determined to keep the fellows in view at any cost, and took long chances of an ambush as he darted around sharp angles at the top of Navi’s speed. Cayuse trusted to Pa-e-has-ka to do the rest if he--Cayuse--could only perform the task he had been given. The Indian boy did not turn his head, but he knew that Nomad was closely following, for he heard the trapper’s cries of encouragement to his steed. Cayuse’s black eyes shone as he patted Navi’s neck and said: “Hide-rack all same heap clumsy pile bones. No ketchum Navi.”