“’Paches come,” answered Cayuse fiercely. “’Paches kill um pony-soldiers, take away Bascomb, make um Wolf-killer prisoner. Cayuse he _run_!” The boy released his hands, doubled his fist, and brought it savagely down on the ground. “Cayuse _run_,” he repeated, as though, by so saving himself, he had stretched the score of disgrace to the uttermost. “That was the proper thing for you to do, Cayuse,” returned Dell. “Cayuse warrior,” grunted the boy; “him ought to stand by Nomad until him die. Cayuse think um Wolf-killer get away, too; but him captured. Ugh!” “Ye’re a queer little imp,” remarked Patterson. “Used to be in the army, didn’t ye? Bugler ’r somethin’?” “Wuh. No like um army; rather stay with Pa-e-has-ka.” “Cayuse thinks the world and all of Buffalo Bill, Patterson,” said Dell. “For Cayuse the sun rises and sets in the king of scouts. It’s a knack Buffalo Bill has of drawing his pards to him.” “Pa-e-has-ka big chief,” said Cayuse curtly; “biggest chief of all the Yellow Eyes. Him my chief, all same, always. Wuh.” “When did the Apaches attack you, Cayuse?” went on Dell. “Last sleep.” “How many were there?” Cayuse lifted both hands, fingers outspread, three times. “So many. Mebbyso more.” “It’s a wonder you ever got away,” breathed Dell. “Me fool um. Piute fool um ’Pache every time.” “Where have you been since the fight?” “All same scout through hills; find out where um ’Pache take Bascomb.” Patterson stirred excitedly. “You found that out, did you?” he demanded. “All same. Bascomb wounded, no can travel. Me find out where ’Pache keep um.” “Bully!” applauded the sergeant, stifling a groan of pain. “You’re more kinds of a phenomenon, Little Cayuse, than I know how to mention.” “Ugh!” grunted Cayuse dejectedly. “Me run from ’Paches. What Pa-e-has-ka say, huh?” He cast an appealing look at Dell. “Buffalo Bill,” returned the girl warmly, “will say that you did exactly right.” “Mebbyso,” said Cayuse, only half-convinced. “Where is Bascomb?” asked the sergeant. “Me tell um Pa-e-has-ka at Bonita.” “Did you see anything of Geronimo?” “Me see um: him with Bascomb.” “Better and better!” Patterson turned to Dell. “That means,” he finished, “that we’ve lost all the time we can at this water-hole. The quicker Little Cayuse gets to Bonita and delivers his news, the quicker this raid of Geronimo’s can be nipped in the bud, and Bascomb recaptured. We’ve got to ride.” The sergeant lifted himself to a sitting posture, but almost immediately fell back with a groan of pain. “I’m next to bein’ on the retired-list,” said he gaspingly; “but for you, Miss Dauntless, I’d be lying, scalped, this minute on that hogback. It was a lucky thing for me you broke away from the post like ye did, an’ decided to trail along in my wake. First time I ever fell down on a job the T. C. set for me!” “You haven’t fallen down now,” said Dell. “I’d like to know what ye call it!”