“Hidden away, most likely, while the fight is going on. They are not there, so far as I can see.”
He had been looking over the scene through his field glasses.
“If we had any men we could spare or risk I’d like to take a hand in that fight,” the border king remarked, after a few moments. “Those are Snakes who are fighting the Utes, and they’re getting the worst of it, too—but that’s not our lookout. The Utes have got the girls—that we know quite well—and they have most likely hidden them up here in the hills somewhere under guard.”
“Let us look for them!” said Mainwaring eagerly.
“Not till we see how the fight ends; then we can be ready to play our own hand,” replied Buffalo Bill quietly.
“Look back, pard, and tell me what that means!” exclaimed Wild Bill, whose eyes, ever wandering about, had caught sight of several columns of smoke rising away to the north.
“It’s a conundrum to me,” said the king of the scouts. “It may be Indians signaling or smoke made by those white ruffians, the Death Riders. Their chief hangout, Nick’s Cavern, is over in that direction!”
He turned again to watch the fight going on below.
“Those Snakes fight well, but they’ll be clean whipped,” he said, after a while. “The Utes are too many for them and they’re fighting better. There’ll be a big feast for the crows and the coyotes.”
“A good thing, too!” growled old Nick Wharton. “The fewer live Injuns on the plains the better.”