“And then, again,” he said slyly, “if I left you behind, Dell, you might take the bit in your teeth just as you did at Grant. You wouldn’t mind the colonel, and perhaps you wouldn’t mind me.” “The sergeant must have been saying things,” murmured Dell. “He couldn’t find words enough to tell me how much he admires you for your daring and courage. However, we’ll let that pass. Wait here, Dell, and Cayuse and I will go for the horses.” As the scout and the Indian boy left the cabin, Dell moved over to where the sergeant was lying. She wanted a last word with him before she, and the scout, and Cayuse galloped out of Bonita. “You know this country, Cayuse?” asked the scout, as he and the Piute moved through the camp toward the place where the horses were picketed. “Wuh,” said Little Cayuse. “You can take us to Tonio Pass without any trouble?” “Sure.” “In that case, then, I won’t take any of the Pimas as guides. The smaller our force the more mobile it will be. Our foray is more of a scouting-expedition than anything else, although we shall be prepared to take care of double our numbers if we come to a show-down with the renegades.” The horses were saddled, bridled, and watered; canteens were filled, and a day’s rations were secured at the chuck-shanty. Silver Heels and Navi certainly looked fit enough for any kind of a trail. Lieutenant Doyle, second in command now that Markham was away, halted the scout as he and Cayuse were riding for the headquarters cabin with Silver Heels in tow. “You’d better take a few of the boys with you, Cody,” he advised. “You may need all the boys yourself, Doyle,” smiled the scout. “Of course Geronimo is the sort of lightning that strikes where and when least expected,” returned Doyle, “but I don’t think he’ll fool with the military so close to headquarters. Anyhow, we can spare some Pimas.” “None for me. One Indian is all I’m going to take on this trip,” and the scout laid a hand on Cayuse’s arm. “My Piute pard is worth a dozen Pimas.” “You’re too old a hand for me to tell you to look out for yourself. You always do that, I reckon.” “If I hadn’t, my scalp would have been hung up in a Sioux lodge years ago.” The scout and the boy rode on, halted at the door of the cabin, and Dell came out and vaulted lightly into her saddle. “Now,” said she, with a sparkle in her eyes, “we’re off for Tonio Pass.” Could the scout have foreseen what was to happen on that venturesome journey, rather than take Dauntless Dell with him, he would have had Doyle send her to Bowie under escort. But, to quote Catamount Tom, the old hunter, “we can’t be so wise all the time as we are just some of the time;” so the little party galloped down the cañon on its way through the hostile country to Tonio Pass. CHAPTER XXV. MODERN WITCHCRAFT.