He sat up on the ground and began working his benumbed arms back and forth between his knees. In spite of his stoicism, he winced, and the scout saw that one of his shoulders was dislocated. “Down on the ground again, Cayuse!” ordered the scout; “on your left side, boy.” Cayuse tumbled over obediently, the scout standing astride his body and firmly gripping his right arm. “Hold him down, Dell,” went on the scout. With the girl pushing and the scout pulling, and Cayuse making no outcry whatever, the shoulder was slipped back into place. Cayuse crawled to the wall of the defile and sat up with his back against it. His bare breast jumped with his hard breathing so that his necklace of bear-claws and elk-teeth fairly rattled, but a ghost of a smile flickered about his lips. “Heap hard time,” said he. “Me no care. Umph! Me warrior; Pa-e-has-ka’s pard.” “You’re a brave little fellow, that’s what you are!” declared Dell admiringly. Cayuse studied her face attentively. “Who you?” he asked. “I’m Buffalo Bill’s girl pard,” laughed Dell. “And I’m your pard, too, Cayuse, if you’ll have me for one.” “No like um squaw pard. Squaw make um fire, boil um kettle, sew um beads on moccasins, no go on war-path with braves.” “I’m different from the ordinary run of squaws, Cayuse,” said Dell, with a humorous side-glance at the scout. “You throw um knife heap fine,” observed Cayuse. “I can shoot as well as I can throw a knife.” “Umph! You make um squaw your pard, Pa-e-has-ka?” “Yes,” smiled the scout. “Squaw your pard, squaw my pard. Shake um hand.” Cayuse lifted his hand--his left one--and the compact was sealed. “Now that that formality is over, Cayuse,” said Buffalo Bill, “you might tell us how you came to be strung up there against the cliff.” The boy looked distressed. “Cayuse no good. Make um worst break this grass. Let Apaches and paleface ketch um.” “Paleface?” “Wuh. One paleface, five Apaches. Paleface make um heap swear, say Cayuse tell um if Pa-e-has-ka sent um. Cayuse no tell um. Apaches haul Cayuse up with rope. Ugh.” “Was the paleface Bernritter?” Cayuse shook his head. “Was it Bascomb?” Again Cayuse shook his head. “There has been underhand work at the mine, Cayuse,” explained Buffalo Bill. “Bascomb and Bernritter have taken away McGowan’s daughter, who was coming from ’Frisco, and the arrow that was shot into camp contained a message. Understand?” “Me sabe.” “The message was from Bascomb and Bernritter, and stated that if McGowan would not agree not to prosecute them for their attempt to get the mine bullion the other day, and would not leave a bar of gold at the old shaft near the Black Cañon trail, he would never see his daughter again.” The boy fixed his eyes on the scout’s face. “Apaches and bad white men got heap black hearts,” said he. “You like ketch um white man that string me up?”