“Yes, if we can. He’s probably in this plot with Bascomb and Bernritter. If we could capture him we might be able to discover something of importance.” “Where Squaw Rock?” asked Cayuse. “That’s too many for me,” said the scout. “I know where it is,” spoke up Dell. “It’s about two miles and a half from here.” “Paleface go there. Say he meet other paleface name Hendricks at Squaw Rock. Tell Apaches come Squaw Rock report if they make trouble for Buffalo Bill. Me hear um say so.” “Good!” exclaimed the scout. “That gives us something to work on, Dell, and we won’t have to go back to the camp and wait for Nomad to carry that agreement and that bar of bullion to the deserted shaft.” “Me go too?” asked Little Cayuse. “We’ll have to take you, Cayuse. I wouldn’t let you try to tramp back to the mine in your present condition.” “Ugh, me all right.” “Most white boys, with a shoulder like yours, would be in bed, Cayuse.” “Me use um left hand.” “All aboard, Dell,” said the scout, getting into his saddle. “If we’re going to do anything with that ruffian who mistreated Cayuse, we’ll have to lay him by the heels before the Apaches join him. You lead the way and set the pace. Cayuse and I will tag along on Bear Paw.” “It’s a rough road,” said the girl, rising to her own saddle; “by taking an even rougher one we can lop off that extra half mile.” “Lop it off,” answered the scout. “I’ll lay a blue stack Bear Paw can follow wherever Silver Heels can lead.” “This way, then,” cried the girl. She spurred straight to the side of the defile and started up the dizzy path which the Apaches had climbed some time before. Arizona is full of difficult country for a horseman; but of all the up-and-down trails the scout ever covered in the saddle, the course Dell led him on the way to Squaw Rock was one of the worst. Not once during the entire trip were the horses on a level. When they were not standing almost straight up in the air, pawing their way aloft like mountain-goats, they were inclined downward so far that the stirrups touched their ears, and the riders had to brace back in them to keep from sliding over their heads. Such a rough passage was hard on Cayuse’s tender shoulder, but he would have scorned to make the slightest complaint. At one place on the devious path there was a cool spring, and here for a space the riders halted, refreshing themselves and their sweltering mounts with a drink. At one place, too, Dell forced Silver Heels to a jump of half a dozen feet over a crevasse; and at another place she made a leap downward over a bluff of twelve feet. Bear Paw and his two riders were always behind, the scout marveling at Dell’s perfect horsemanship. The girl, it was plain, was entirely at home in the saddle. Was there anything, the scout was asking himself, in which Dell Dauntless did not excel?