“You couldn’t expect me to stay there after Colonel Grayson had received that message about Bascomb and the escort, could you?” queried Dell artlessly. Buffalo Bill drew back and stared at her. “Why, what could you hope to do?” he asked. “I didn’t know exactly; but, when you’ve got a pard in trouble, you don’t loll around and take things easy, do you? And it isn’t your way to keep clear of the scene of your pard’s trouble, is it?” “Well, there’s a different set of rules governing the actions of a _girl_ pard,” returned the scout, a twinkle in his eye. “Not much there ain’t,” asserted Dell. “What’s this?” The scout touched the side of her blouse where the Apache bullet had gouged a rent. “That’s where a redskin paid me his compliments,” said Dell. “And this?” The scout touched the brim of her hat. “Another token of Apache esteem,” went on Dell. “One was made by a bullet, and the other by an arrow.” “Close!” murmured the scout. “A miss is as good as a mile,” Dell answered lightly. “Not many girls would come through a night trip from Grant, at this time, with the same coolness you show. You’re a remarkable girl, Dell Dauntless.” “Only different,” smiled Dell. “It’s enough to put me in fine fettle just to find you alive and hearty at this end of the trail. And we have Cayuse, too, you see.” “What’s the matter with the boy?” asked the scout, gazing perplexedly at the little Piute. “He might come around and at least say ‘howdy.’” “He feels cut up and out of sorts, Buffalo Bill,” said Dell, with a soft look at Cayuse. “What about?” “Ask him.” Cayuse did not come near the scout, but hung around Navi, and apparently gave the scout no more attention than if he had been a thousand miles away. Nevertheless, not a move of the scout’s escaped the boy. When Buffalo Bill walked toward him, Cayuse turned his back, folded his arms, and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall of the cañon. “What’s the matter, Cayuse?” said the scout, laying a kindly hand on the lad’s bare shoulder. “Ugh! Cayuse free, Nomad prisoner.” The Piute never shifted his eyes from the cañon wall. “What of that?” proceeded the scout, instantly catching the drift of the boy’s sentiments. “Better one free than both prisoners. When one is free he can help to release the other. _Sabe?_” “Cayuse run,” breathed the boy; “_run_, all same scared coyote. Cayuse think Wolf-killer run, too, but not so. Wolf-killer captured.” “I was afraid both you and Nomad had fallen, and I am glad to hear that Nomad is alive, even though a prisoner. Little Cayuse has acted like a true warrior in getting away and coming to tell me about Wolf-killer. Pa-e-has-ka thanks Little Cayuse.” The boy’s pride, thus oddly humiliated, began to recover. He turned around face to face with the scout. “Pa-e-has-ka think Cayuse did right?” he asked. “Sure you did right, Cayuse,” averred the scout heartily “you did the only thing possible under the circumstances. Don’t be foolish.”