“Tork erbout yer night trails,” he went on, “thet was ther wust thing o’ ther kind I ever went up ag’inst. Think er me, trailin’ two pards through them gullies an’ uplifts, fearin’ any minit ye’ll turn on me an’ do me up with er bullet! An’ all ther time, ye onderstand, I was afraid ye’d plump inter a bunch o’ ’Paches. Ef ye’d done thet, I’d hev had ter run ter yer rescue, an’ mebbyso got peppered by you as well as ther reds. Oh, I dunno! I reckons thar’s times when a feller feels wuss nor he does at others, but ef I ever sees er time I feels wuss nor I did last night, I wants some ’un ter wake me up an’ tell me.” A slight smile curled about the scout’s lips. There was a humorous side to the situation, and he saw it. Dell, however, saw the other side, and she reached out her hand and laid it on Nomad’s big, hairy paw. “Nick,” she said gently, “of course you know that Buffalo Bill and I hadn’t the least idea what we were doing.” Nomad gave the small hand a pat, and grinned a little himself. “’Course I knows et, Dell,” said he, “but thet didn’t lighten matters none fer yore ole pard last night. I had ter keep arter ye, kase I couldn’t let ye git away. Now an’ ergin ye’d sot down ter rest, wharupon it was me ter hover in ther background, breathin’ on’y when necessary an’ imaginin’ every minit Buffler ’u’d find me out. “Some time clost ter mornin’ ye give me ther slip. Kain’t onderstand noways how it was done. You two went inter a short ravine. I didn’t see ye come out. Waitin’ fer er spell, I trailed keerful through thet ravine, an’ ye wasn’t thar! No, sir, ye’d vanished _plumb_. “From then on I was huntin’ all ways, up an’ down, for’ard an’ back an’ crossover. Day began ter loom up, ther sun climbed over ther peaks an’ found me on ther top of thet clift, up thar, lookin’ down on this trail an’ ther edge o’ another clift. Then”--Nomad heaved a long breath--“I seen you two a-settin’ on this rock, bound tergether with them bracelets, torkin’ ter each other. I passed my eyes along ther trail tryin’ fer a place ter git down. Somehow, you struck me as hevin’ got yer senses back, an’ I wanted to bust in on ye, an’ say: ‘Buffler, hyar’s me; take er good look, an’ fer Heaven’s sake don’t shoot yer ole pard.’ I didn’t see er way down jest then, but I did see them thar ’Paches a-creepin’ down on ye, as I thort. Then I tuned up, an’ you two looked every way but ther right ’un. Ye got up, staggerin’like, an’ I tuned up ergin. Then I seen Dell tumble off ther clift, an’ I near tumbled off’n thet other clift, up thar, myself. I scrambled eround fer er place ter git down, an’--an’---- Waal, thet’s erbout all. Hyar we aire, big as life, an’ we hev come through things, Buffler, like we never went through afore, an’ like I hopes we’ll never go through ergin.” Once more Nomad pulled his sleeve across his forehead. CHAPTER XXVII. LOCOED APACHES.