“We’ll shore never learn ther rights of ther matter,” put in Alkali Pete, “fer Thunder Cloud an’ his leftenant aire both takin’ it easy in ther happy huntin’ grounds.”
Colonel Hayden nodded. “I guessed that the Apache never got into the castle,” he said.
“But you didn’t guess that the Honorable Mr. Frams here gave the Apache his quietus. Yes, Black-face Ned played into our hands, and I’ll bet he’s mighty sorry for it.”
The villain scowled, but said nothing. He was in an unenviable state of mind. He was without resources, and saw ahead of him the gallows.
But he determined to make one strong appeal to the man he had so grievously injured.
“Let me go, colonel,” he pleaded. “You’ve got your daughter back, and you’ve cleaned me out of friends. Let me go, and I’ll start for Mexico and never come back. I have made a mistake, and I am sorry for it. You’ll sleep better if you turn me loose.”
Colonel Hayden’s face hardened. “You contemptible scoundrel, don’t talk to me,” he replied, and then turned his back on the villain.
Buffalo Bill’s voice was heard after a short silence. “Colonel,” he said quietly, “I am going to take this man off your hands and deliver him into the hands of the Apaches. He has killed the Apache who would have been chief had he lived, and for his offense he must undergo an Indian trial. I can assure you it will be short, and that there will be no appeal from the judgment.”
Colonel Hayden smiled grimly. “As you will, Cody,” was the reply he made. But Buffalo Bill’s announcement had caused Alkali Pete to raise his eyebrows.
“Ain’t ye takin’ a losin’ contrack, Buffler?” he inquired. “How on arth aire ye goin’ ter turn over ther rapscallion ter ther ’Paches when ther prospecks aire that ther ’Paches will soon be non est combusticus?”