Scarcely an hour had passed before he saw a large party of horsemen far to the south moving westward. They came into view now and then as they passed over the higher points of the rolling plain. He saw them quite distinctly as they forded the river, and then for a time they disappeared, to come into view again after half an hour, showing that they had crossed quite a respectable valley. Again they went over a ridge, and were seen no more. The scout decided that the party had either stopped in this valley or that it was so broad that the horsemen were beyond reach of the human eye when they reached the far side. “To-night,” he said aloud, as he arose to collect the lariats of the ponies, “we’ll move down into that country and see what we may discover.” It was dark when the scout awoke, and for a time he could not think where he was. Then he remembered finding Nomad and Cayuse sleeping in the gully, and that he had tied the ponies together, and sat down in the shadow of the precipitous wall to wait a while before awakening either of his pards. He now recalled guiltily that he had slept at his post. He moved over to where Nomad and the Piute had lain. Both were gone. He groped his way to where he had left the ponies, and they, too, were gone. “It’s one on me,” chuckled the scout. “The pards are giving the ponies a chance to graze, and are letting me have my nap out.” “Pa-e-has-ka sleep plenty sound,” said Cayuse at his elbow. The faithful Piute had remained by the scout. “Where’s Nomad?” asked Cody. “Him go fill um up ponies,” answered Cayuse. They found Nomad readily enough where he had been since sunset. He had found a buffalo wallow and had given the horses all the water they wished. They had grazed their fill and were now enjoying a rest. “Thar’s strange doin’s off west’ard, Buffler,” said the trapper, who sat on the ground smoking and observing the changes in his surroundings as night advanced. “What’s up, Nick?” asked the scout. “See!” exclaimed the trapper. “Thet’s what’s up. They’ve been er-shootin’ up them air rockets ever sence ’twas dark ernuff ter see um, an’ ’way off in ther south ernother passle o’ ther varmints hev been answerin’ ov ’em.” The signals were coming up in the direction Buffalo Bill had seen the party disappear in the morning. “Just what I thought,” said the scout. “There is a large war party over yonder; I saw them go there this morning.” “Waugh! Buffler, this ’mences ter look like life was wuth livin’ er dyin’, ary one. Snarlin’ catermounts! I feels et in my ole bones thet ther fur’s goin’ ter fly ’fore these sage brushes git ter be plum trees.” “Let’s be off,” said the scout quietly, selecting the best pony by going among them and feeling of their heads and ears for intelligence and their bodies and legs for endurance. “Better turn the other two loose, hadn’t we, Nomad?” he asked. “Shore we don’t want no extra hosses ter bother with--them’s my notions,” answered the trapper.