“_When_ was ye manacled?” pursued the wondering trapper. “It was some time after sundown, yesterday.” The scout, lifting himself slowly, took a sitting posture beside the girl. His right wrist was gouged and bleeding, as was also Dell’s. “Ye had er plumb tough time, Buffler,” commiserated Nomad, his eyes on the two wrists and the red-stained manacles. “One of the roughest times I ever had, Nick,” returned the scout in a low tone. “I reckoned yer arm would be pulled off’n yer body.” “So did I.” “If I could have released myself,” cried Dell, “I would have done so.” “And lost your life, pard,” said the scout, “while now it has been saved. We’ll both get over the effects of that experience in due time. I wonder how long it lasted?” “Et couldn’t hev been more’n five minits,” said Nomad. “Five minutes! It seemed like five years. Is my hair white, Nick?” “Nary, Buffler. Et’s ther same color et allers was. Why don’t ye take ’em off?” and the trapper indicated the handcuffs. “Can’t do it without a file.” “A key gin’rally op’rates things like them. Who’s got ther key?” “I did have it in my pockets, along with the cuffs. Go through my clothes carefully, Nick, and see if you can find it. I took a look, a while ago, but I couldn’t do it very well with one hand fastened to Dell’s.” The trapper looked through his pard’s pockets thoroughly, but without result. “I reckon,” observed the scout, “that Dell and I are hooked up to stay until we get back to Bonita. Do what you can to take care of that wrist of yours, Dell. See if you can’t get a handkerchief around the wrist, under the cuff.” Dell groped for her handkerchief, and finally found it in the breast of her blouse. As she jerked it out, a small object flew from it and dropped on the cliff, within an inch of the edge. The scout gazed at the object as though fascinated. “Thar’s a key now!” cried the trapper. “Right, old pard,” said Buffalo Bill; “it’s the key to the handcuffs. It was in my pocket last night. Will somebody please explain how it comes to be in Dell’s handkerchief this morning?” “More mystery,” murmured Dell. “One more incomprehensible thing to be added to the night’s list. Some time and somehow I hope we shall be able to understand all that has happened.” “Here, too,” added the scout. “Waal,” put in the trapper, “how ther key happened ter git from Buffler’s pocket inter Dell’s handkercher is er hocus-pocus thet don’t matter much, seein’ as how ther key is ther main thing, an’ we got et.” He stooped and recovered the key from the rocks. “Hyar’s whar I bust this combination an’ git you two separated. Stand up er minit.” The scout and the girl got to their feet, and Nomad unlocked the old-fashioned iron bracelets. He was about to fling them over the cliff when Buffalo Bill stopped him, took the cuffs and the key, and returned them to his pocket.