“That’s right; I went my way, and you went yours. They haven’t happened to cross since, until to-day.”
“I’d like to make myself right about that Niobrara bizness, if I can; but maybe I can’t. We was ringed in by old Rattlesnake’s Pawnees, you know, and our horses was hid in some cottonwoods down by the river, and you was wounded.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
“I wisht that I could,” said Conover. “I’ve wisht that a thousand times since. But forgettin’ the past is a hard bizness, as I’ve found. Well, though you was wounded, you said you thought you could hold them rocks where we were against the Pawnees, and for me to sneak out and git the horses, and then make a dash in with ’em, your idea being that maybe I could rush through the Pawnee line up to the rocks in the darkness, when you could climb to the back of your horse, and perhaps both of us git away. It seemed the only chance, and it was as desperate a one as any man ever figured on takin’.”
“I’ll never forget it!” the scout repeated.
“And you’ll never forget what I did—and that’s where the present trouble comes in; for you’ll never feel like trusting me again. I made the sneak all right through the Pawnee lines, but the reds were thicker than I expected; and when I got to the horses my courage failed. It wouldn’t, maybe, if I hadn’t been discovered; that rattled me, and scared me, and instead of trying to git your horse to you I simply straddled mine and cut out, leaving you there among the rocks, with them murderous Pawnees all round you.”
Buffalo Bill nodded quietly, his face unchanged. Conover was covered with confusion.
“But the next day,” said Conover, drawing a deep breath, “I tried to make it right; I rode to the nearest fort and gave the word, and troopers were sent right out.”
“And found, when they got there, that I had fooled the Pawnees and got away from them unaided, even though I was wounded; and that the nest of rocks to which you guided them was empty and the Pawnees gone.”
Conover was silent for a moment.