If the trapper and the little Piute trailed Bernritter and Jacobs according to instructions, they would sooner or later arrive at the Three-ply camp. When they arrived there, the scout felt sure he would have little difficulty in getting into communication with them. Undoubtedly Nomad and Cayuse would themselves be hunting quarters among the neighboring hills, as it was part of their instructions to keep their surveillance of the super and the cyanid expert a secret. Completely oblivious of the Apaches, gathered under the leadership of Bascomb, Buffalo Bill and the baron dropped easily into the trap they had spread. The blow was struck swiftly, suddenly, and effectively. Not a sound heralded it. From each side of the gully half a dozen noosed riatas leaped out from the rocks. The scout and the baron saw the flying nooses. One or two might have been dodged, but there was no getting away from twelve of them. Buffalo Bill had barely time to jerk a revolver clear and fire in the direction of the rocks at the gully-side. The next moment he was roped and dragged bodily out of the saddle. The noose had slipped part way down his body before it tightened, and when it closed on him it pinned his arms to his sides and rendered him helpless. He struggled to the best of his ability, but a swarm of redskins dropped down on him and fairly smothered him by force of numbers. Among the red faces bending over him he saw a white one. While the Apaches held him, the white man laid a handkerchief over the scout’s face. The handkerchief was saturated with chloroform, and it was impossible for the scout to get away from the sense-destroying fumes of the drug. Unconsciousness followed; and when the period of lethargy was finally broken, the scout sat up and stared about him into pitch-black night. The drug, in clearing out of his faculties, had left a nausea in his stomach. From somewhere in the darkness the baron was groaning in the depths of a similar misery. “Baron!” called the scout. “Puffalo Pill!” gulped the baron. “Gootness me! I t’ought meppy you vas deadt. I peen pooty near deadt meinseluf. Ach, vat a trouple in mein inside. Ach! I hope dot I don’d haf to live mooch longer und suffer like vat I am.” “Nonsense, baron! You were drugged, just as I was. You’ll feel better when you get over the effects.” “Vell, meppy. I vish Frieda vas here to do somet’ing for me.” “Don’t waste any time thinking of Frieda. We have other things to command our attention. Are you tied?” “No, I don’d vas tied.” “Neither am I: That’s something, at all events. Strange those scoundrels left us the use of our hands. I can’t understand what they mean by making such a play as this.” “Id vas mighdy sutten.” “Sudden! It came like lightning out of a clear sky.” “Who dit id?” “Apaches; but there was one white man among them.” “Vy dit dey dit id?” groaned the baron.