In her hand was a canteen of water that her father had given her.
The Indian, who was sitting up with his hands at his throat, took the canteen and drank until he almost choked.
Buffalo Bill and Alkali Pete joined the girl, and the colonel came up while the Apache was speaking.
“Black Wing was a traitor,” he said, in answer to a question put by the king of scouts. “He would have sent the braves of Thunder Cloud to be massacred if the white friend of Thunder Cloud, he who is called Flag-pole Jack, had not taunted him with treachery and forced him to tell the truth.”
“Black Wing was a fool to admit he was leading the Apaches into a trap,” said Buffalo Bill.
“He was angry and reckless,” replied the Apache. “The white man has a cutting tongue, and he lashed Black Wing to fury. Then when the Apaches learned how they had been deceived, Black Wing was made to pay for his treachery.”
The last words were spoken just above a whisper. In a few minutes the Apache was dead.
“I must go on and rejoin Wild Bill,” said the king of scouts to Colonel Hayden, as the quartet walked away from the scene of death. “As for you and Miss Hayden, my advice is, go to the camping ground by the creek—the place is safe enough now—and stay there to-night. Alkali Pete here will go with you, and in the morning you can set out for civilization.”
The lanky plainsman said nothing to this speech. But his homely face wore a look of keen disappointment. As he caught Sybil Hayden’s smiling glance he reddened, and attempted an explanation for his apparent exhibition of discourtesy. “I think, I shore do, that Buffler orter come with us. He’s got no call ter be buttin’ inter a squabble atween ther ’Paches an’ ther Comanches. Don’t ye see, Miss Hayden?”
“Yes, I see,”—and the smile broadened. Then she added wickedly: “You wouldn’t go back and help Wild Bill and the Comanches, would you? An ox team couldn’t make you go. Am I right?”