“What did thet pizen, light-fingered man blow in hyar fer, ef et wasn’t ter do me up an’ put me in ther closet?” thought Nomad. “Ain’t nothin’ in ther room been teched. Arter usin’ them towels on me, ther feller went out an’ turned ther key on ther outside. Waugh, but thet was er bump!” and the old man felt of the lump on the back of his head. He had no time, however, to waste on himself. Pushing on the bell for the call-boy, he picked up the spur, righted the chair, and finished the operation he had begun something like two hours and a half before. By then, “front” was rapping to find out what was wanted. “Unlock ther door,” said Nomad. The key grated, the door opened, and the astonished boy showed himself. “Say,” said he, “how did ye happen t’ lock yerself in the room an’ leave yer key on the outside?” “Never mind thet,” snorted Nomad. “I didn’t happen ter, an’ thet’s all ye need ter know.” He put on his hat, pushed the boy out, relocked the door, and handed him the key. “Take that down ter ther man behind ther counter,” said he; “I ain’t got time ter stop.” Then, with spurs jingling at his heels, he raced down the stairs three steps at a time, and dashed out of the hotel. At the corral he found his horse ready and waiting. “Thought ye wanted the animile in a hurry?” remarked Nickerson. “He’s been standin’ thar fer the better part o’ two hours.” “I was delayed gittin’ hyar,” answered Nomad, leaping into the saddle. “See how quick ye kin tell me ther way ter ther Three-ply Mine, Nickerson.” Nickerson used up a dozen words, and when he had done, the old trapper dug in with the irons and shot through the corral-gate. CHAPTER V. LITTLE CAYUSE ON THE WAR-PATH. The Piute boy had an easy time of it, compared with the strenuous experience fate had marked out for old Nomad. Bernritter did not linger long in the hotel. When he came out he made directly for the corral, to which Jacobs was later followed by the trapper. Little Cayuse, shadowing along on the super’s trail, knew at once that the man he was watching must have gone to the corral for his horse. The boy, therefore, made rapidly for Nickerson’s, and got his bridle and riding-blanket on his pinto cayuse. “Take um Black Cañon trail to Three-ply Mine?” he queried, of one of Nickerson’s men. “Thet’s ther way ye go, ef ye go direct,” answered the man. Little Cayuse galloped to the Five Points, and then along the dusty thoroughfare known as Grand Avenue. His sharp eyes were always straight ahead, keenly scrutinizing the road for some sign of Bernritter. The boy was several miles down the Black Cañon trail before he glimpsed the man he was looking for. Although Cayuse could see only Bernritter’s back, yet the form of the man, and the clothes he wore, were indelibly impressed upon the little Indian’s mind, and he knew he could not be mistaken.