“It was a clear case of blue funk, Cody; I was scared, and I thought only of my own scalp lock. Of course——”
“Of course you never expected to see me alive again?”
“I didn’t,” Conover confessed, “not even when I led the horse soldiers to that spot. When I seen that the Pawnees was gone, my thought, naturally, was that they had rubbed you out and got away; and I believed that until I knew better, some time later.”
He stopped, and again his gaze wavered away to the window.
“That’s why I didn’t know if that note I sent you just now would do any good; and it was the reason I didn’t want to talk about this before Nick Nomad and Wild Bill. I admit I ain’t proud of that record.”
He still stared at the window, his face red and puffy, the corners of his eyes twitching. The scarlet scar on his forehead seemed redder and angrier than ever. His confusion was painfully apparent.
“And now about old Fire Top,” said the scout. “Just what do you know about him? And why did you think that perhaps he and his Toltecs were mixed up in this case of child-stealing? You are called Toltec Tom; I don’t know why. Back at the time of that Niobrara matter you were simply Tom Conover.”
“Yes, that’s so,” Conover admitted.
“Perhaps we can start the thing,” said the scout, seeing his reluctance, “by having you tell me how you got the name of Toltec Tom.”
“I was a prisoner of the Toltecs once,” was the hesitating admission.