For a time they kept on in silence, the route being through a wild and picturesque country, which Mainwaring would have admired under any other circumstances.
But now he was busy thinking what Buffalo Bill would do when he missed him. Would he discover the trail? And if he did, would not the very fact of his following it up be fatal to the hopes, if not to the lives, of the captives?
He thought that he would explain this to the leader of the band, and get his permission to ride back and prevent the border king from following until the ransom matter was negotiated. But the thought of leaving the girls, even for an instant, with such men deterred him from that course.
He was wondering what to do, when one of the rear guard thundered by him and rode to the front. After he spoke to the leader the pace was increased to a swift gallop, and then the leader of the party dropped back along the column to Mainwaring.
“Young man,” he said, “I’ve got a few questions to ask you, and if you don’t answer them we’ll not bother about that ransom. What party were you with when you happened to hit on our trail?”
“A party of scouts, commanded by Buffalo Bill—whom you have probably heard of.”
“Yes; I’ve heard of him!” growled the bandit. “But were there no troops—no cavalry—in the party?”
“None when I left, but they were expecting some to come up. They were expecting them to come every hour.”
“Young fellow, I believe you have told me the truth, and now I’ll tell you some news. These scouts and cavalrymen are on our trail; but you needn’t think it will help your case much. I’d drop you, Indian fashion, with a bullet before I’d lose you.
“In about half an hour you’ll see them the worst-whipped crowd you ever heard of. By that time we’ll be in a place where their cavalry will have about as much play as a horse in a hencoop.