“Thar never war yit another sech hoss, Buffler, on the top o’ ther airth!” he declared, with characteristic enthusiasm. “Whoa, Nebby, consarn ye; don’t git bashful and restless jes’ ’cause I’m praisin’ ye! Stan’ still, thar!” He looked lovingly at the homely old beast. “Nebby seen jes’ ther fix I war in, and he felt jes’ as bad as I did, and war jes’ as ’shamed o’ ther way we had been caught nappin’. And so he war ready fer somethin’ desprit, and he done it. I jes’ hooked my two tied hands over the horn o’ ther saddle and Nebby carried me off, same’s as if I war a bag o’ meal hooked onter him. It war ther greatest thing I ever knowed on, Buffler, an’ no mistake. But after Nebby’d done his part, I still seemed ter be not much better off. I got my hands from over the saddle horn, but I couldn’t ontie ’em. I tried to gnaw ther cords loose, but my ole teeth has seen their best days, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break ther cords, and thar I war; fer, smart as Nebby is, I couldn’t nowise git him ter do anything. I tried ter git him ter bite at ther cords, but he wouldn’t, and jes’ stood lookin’ at me, wonderin’ what kind of a crazy fit I war havin’; fer I war shore pawin’ up ther ground suthin’ dreadful, in tryin’ ter git myself free.” The old trapper told what he knew of the girl who had been left behind in the power of the road agents, and of the road agents themselves; though this last was little enough, and largely guesswork, as he had not seen their faces. The scout saw that some strenuous and perilous work was cut out for him. At all hazards, Lena must be rescued, and her lover as well. “We’ll have to lie low a while,” he said to Nomad. “We’ll strike their trail after they’ve gone on, and then we’ll do what we can.” Old Nomad made a grimace. “Buffler, I feels like lyin’ low fer a week; fer I’m thet stiff and sore thet every inch o’ me feels as ef it had been beat with an ox whip. I reckon I’ve got you to thank fer my life, too; fer, try as I would, I couldn’t git rid of them cords on my wrists. And, gee, but them wrists aire hurtin’ yit!” They were red and swollen, and very painful. From the top of the nearest hill, to which he climbed with great carefulness, Buffalo Bill viewed, as well as he could, the surrounding country. He saw the road agents under Black John moving off in the direction of the stage trail. It surprised him, and for a time puzzled him; then he hit on what seemed to him the true solution. “They’ve forced Lena Forest to tell them where the emeralds are buried, and they’re going to get them. Too bad! But I don’t see how it’s to be prevented now. Of course, no one can blame her for telling, when, no doubt, she was threatened, and frightened.” He surveyed the returning cavalcade with his field glasses; and saw the two prisoners in the midst of the outlaws.