“I didn’t know but that you might, when everything was considered, let me go. I’ll get right out, and this part of the country will never see me again.” “You’ll get right out just as soon as you’re able to move; and you’ll go with Rising, the sheriff. And you’ll leave this part of the country, all right, when you take that little trip to Yuma.” “Hyar’s a pard o’ your’n, Buffler!” sung out Nomad, from the other room. The scout stepped out of the bedroom and found Little Cayuse. The boy had erased the war-paint from his face, for he had reached the end of his war-trail. “Cayuse all right, Pa-e-has-ka,” said the boy. “I knew they would be when I told you to take care of them. Where did you put the animals?” “All same camp corral.” “That’s all right.” The boy edged closer to the scout. “Me done good work, mebbyso?” he went on. The scout looked at him in surprise. It was not like Little Cayuse to claim credit, or try to get some one to pat him on the back. “You have done fine work, Cayuse,” said the scout heartily. “Mebbyso you let Cayuse take scalps of Apaches?” pleaded the boy. The scout started. Every once in a while the boy’s Indian nature would crop up, just as it did in this request for the scalps of the slain Apaches. “You want those scalps pretty bad, do you?” the scout asked. “Wuh!” said Cayuse, with glimmering eyes. “You like um Pa-e-has-ka?” “Wuh!” “You can take those scalps, Cayuse, if you want to,” went on the scout, “but the moment you do, our trails divide. I’ll have no pard about me who will do such heathen work. Take your choice.” “No take um scalp,” said Cayuse, wheeling silently and striding out of the room. Nomad laughed. “Ye might hev knowed how he’d choose, Buffler,” said he. “Why, he thinks more o’ you than he does o’ his own dad.” “His own dad sold him for a quart of whisky and a gun,” said the scout quietly, “so that isn’t saying much, Nick.” CHAPTER X. THE WINNING HAND. In the afternoon Rising drove out in a two-seated buckboard, bringing Hawkins with him and a doctor. He was astounded when told of what had taken place at the Three-ply. “Everything seems to happen all in a bunch for you and your pards, Buffalo Bill,” said he. “It would take a lot of average men a month to do what you and your outfit have cleaned up on in twenty-four hours.” “A lot of average men wouldn’t have the Cody-luck,” said the scout, with a smile. “I reckon there’s more in that than a person would think.” “In that, and in having helpers like Nick Nomad and Little Cayuse.” The doctor examined Jacobs and pronounced him well enough to go back to town with Rising and Hawkins. After dressing Jacobs’ wound, the doctor performed a like service for Chislett and Harkness, and was then sent to the chuck-shanty to look after the baron. Chislett and Harkness, it was the doctor’s opinion, would soon be as well as ever.