The scout swept the surrounding country with the glass, looking for Ben Stevens, but saw nothing of him; those Indians were the only things moving, or visible. “Perhaps he has seen them and has got under cover, just as I have,” was Buffalo Bill’s thought. He knew that Stevens, as a cowboy, was not inexperienced. He was a good borderman and understood Indian ways, and what to do in emergencies. The cowboy life makes one quick of thought, and it does not breed weaklings. Buffalo Bill lay behind the screen of the mesquite, watching the young Cheyennes until they were out of sight. He saw that they were heading steadily toward the Southwest, and that they were hurrying. Apparently they feared a pursuit of troopers from the fort; and for that reason, though they probably knew that Wild Bill was not the only white man out on those level grasslands, they feared to tarry or go after those others. The troops of the government inspired a good deal of fear and respect in the minds of the Indians, and not even bloodthirsty young bucks, who usually were ready for any deviltry or bloodshed, cared to meet them. “Heading straight southwest. Oh, yes, there is another band of Cheyennes on the border of the Territory of New Mexico! Perhaps they are intending to join them. The thing is likely. And then they’ll stir up trouble on that border. I wish I could get word of this to the fort.” The important thing now was to follow the trail of the Cheyennes and see what could be done to effect the rescue of Wild Bill. Yet Buffalo Bill knew that it would but jeopardize the chances if he began an open pursuit, or showed himself so that the Cheyennes would see him. Nevertheless, it was tedious and wearing work to lie there and see those young Indians riding out of sight with his old friend. “I’ll have to meet Stevens at the agreed rendezvous, and then together we’ll strike the Cheyenne trail and hold it until we do something. Or if he won’t go on, I’ll have to go alone. But there’s that rascally lieutenant and the girl to find. If I were about a dozen men just now I think I wouldn’t be too many for the need.” The Cheyennes were now out of sight behind a roll in the land, and the scout drew the picket pin, and mounting, set out for the point where the three friends had promised to meet. He set the horse at a sharp gallop, for he was anxious to follow the Cheyennes. “If he isn’t there I’ll leave written word for him, so posted that he can’t fail to see it when he comes, and then I’ll push on after the Indians,” was his conclusion, as he thus rode forth. CHAPTER XXVIII. BARLOW AND THE GIRL. While Buffalo Bill was thus riding toward the rendezvous to meet Ben Stevens, and the Cheyennes were riding hard toward the Southwest with Wild Bill in their midst as a prisoner, the dastardly young lieutenant, Joel Barlow, and the girl he had abducted so boldly from Fort Cimarron, were pursuing their separate ways.