“This--this is awful!” breathed Dell. “Let us think. My brain seems all in a whirl. If we take a little time to think, perhaps we can arrive at some solution of the mystery.” They took time; and, finally, the scout began to voice the result of his mental labor. “You remember the spring,” said he, “and the peculiar taste of the water?” “Yes, yes!” returned the girl eagerly. “That spring must have been drugged with some peculiar loco-weed. I can remember saying crazy things, and trying to stop myself and talk sense, shortly after we had taken a drink at the pool.” “I can remember something like that, too.” “And I can remember the horses acted queerly, and I recall a desperate but unsuccessful attempt which I made to pull myself together and keep my wits. Following that, all is a blank until a little while ago, when I opened my eyes here, on this rock, and found you beside me.” “Where did the handcuffs come from?” The scout explained about the Apache scout, and how he had brought the handcuffs from Geronimo. “First thing,” said he, “we’ll remove the cuffs. Can you slip your hand free?” Dell tried, but could not, for her small hand seemed swollen terribly. “There’s a key to the cuffs somewhere,” went on the scout. He dug into his pockets for the key, but it was gone. “Here’s an odd situation, and no mistake,” he said, with a rueful laugh. “We’ll have to stay manacled together, Dell--for a while, at least.” “Do you think the Apaches drugged the pool?” asked Dell. “Who else could it have been if not the Apaches?” “But what do they know about drugs?” “Geronimo, they say, knows many things the white men do not dream of. There are herbs growing in this country which are said to have powerful medicinal properties. Indians, as a rule, are versed in the use of herbs.” “It is all very dark to me,” said the girl helplessly. “If Geronimo drugged the pool from which we drank, in the valley, why was he not there to make prisoners of us?” “Some of the Apaches may have put on these manacles as we find them; then, in some manner, we may have eluded the Apaches and got away. It’s all guesswork, Dell, and one guess is as good as another.” “But Cayuse!” exclaimed Dell, taking sudden thought of the little Piute. “Where can _he_ be?” The scout lifted his voice in a loud cry: “Cayuse! Cayuse!” Echoes alone answered him, booming out across the dizzy chasm that lay under the outer edge of the shelf. “There’s no telling where he is,” said Dell. “Had we not been manacled together like this, quite likely we should have become separated from each other.” “True enough. This road, winding around the mountain, appears to be a military road. Perhaps if we follow it, it will lead us to Bowie.” “But our horses!”