“Find out for me,” he said earnestly and sternly, “if it is a Piute boy. If it is, it is Pa-e-has-ka’s loved pard, and he must be saved if Pa-e-has-ka has to give his own life.” “Me come back,” said the Crow, and moved away swiftly. Buffalo Bill awaited impatiently as the minutes lengthened into hours. At last there was a slight rustle and White-man-runs-him appeared. “All same so many prisoners,” he began, holding up three fingers. “So many palefaces”--holding up two fingers--“and so many Piute boy”--one finger. “Palefaces have paper talk from Sitting Bull, no die yet. Piute die at stake when sun looks over hills.” CHAPTER XXV. THE RESCUE OF LITTLE CAYUSE. In four hours it would be daylight, and, as the sun appeared above the eastern hills, the Indian celebration was to have its climax in firing the pile of dry wood that was to torture Little Cayuse. The scout had heard the words of White-man-runs-him, and his jaws snapped together with a grim determination to save his little pard--but how? In the war party were several hundred well-armed and well-mounted warriors. In many cases their rifles were superior to those of the white soldiery, for agents were in Canada and the East, buying the latest long-range arms. To endeavor to take the prisoner forcibly would be suicidal, foolhardy. But the scout would make some attempt--that was a foregone conclusion. Buffalo Bill left the trailer and moved about the camp. He studied it from every point of the compass, learned the exact lay of the land in all directions, and then went down to the junction of the stream and river where Hickok and Nomad were snugly hidden. He told them of the prospective fate of their little Indian pard, and a plan he had partly perfected. The scout hoped that within the next hour or two the enthusiasm of the red men would wane and that many of them would go to sleep. Then it was that he proposed to mount Bear Paw, move as far into the camp as possible, and then charge through among the fires like a whirlwind, snatching the tied-up Little Cayuse as he went. Once on the plain, with Bear Paw uninjured, he would laugh at pursuit. It was a desperate undertaking, with small chance of success, but if any one could do it, that man was the daring Cody, the peerless rider, and he was aware of his chances. Hickok and Nomad were to be ready, out on the plain, leading Navi, to check the first mad rush of pursuit, and then wheel in behind the scout for a long run. Every man talked as if the attempt were to be a complete success, but in his own mind each foresaw the grim possibilities of failure. Nomad thought a better chance of winning lay in a triple charge, two of the riders shooting right and left among the Indians, while the third snatched the prisoner, and made off.