None of the prisoners had anything to say. The ankle cords were cut, the reata placed as explained, and then Buffalo Bill pointed to the door. “March!” he commanded, and with Rixton Holmes in the lead, a sheepish expression on his evil face, Buffalo Bill and his strange tandem left the cabin.
Every order was obeyed as the party went along the trail that led to the ravine. The two Indians wore scowling faces, but Holmes was cheerful. The king of scouts wondered at the villain’s apparent state of mind. Was he playing a part, affecting a joyousness that he was far from feeling, or had he some card up his sleeve that he expected soon to play?
The scout determined to get at the truth if he could. “Holmes,” said he, when they were near the ravine, “you are a slippery cuss, and you are counting on getting out of the hole in which I have placed you. That’s right, isn’t it?”
A cunning look came into the villain’s face. “I’d be a fool not to live in hopes, when I am alive and well, wouldn’t I?” was the somewhat evasive reply.
“Suppose I take you straight to Taos and not try to find this cave? Would you still have hopes?”
Holmes’ jaw fell. But he quickly became composed. “But you won’t do that,” he said. “I know you, Cody, and I know that you will not take the trail for Taos until you’ve made an effort to find the girl.”
Buffalo Bill frowned. He had learned what he desired, and the knowledge was not such as to give him any pleasure. Holmes was banking on something in or about the cave. What that something was the king of scouts had not the remotest idea. He had strong reason to believe that it was a trap, and that Bart Angell had fallen into it. If he went on, was able, either through the assistance of his prisoners or by his own ingenuity, to find the cave, he might fall a victim to the wiles of the enemy. Three Indians had gone from the cabin to Crow-killer at the cave. One had been left behind, presumably to guard the fair prisoner and also take care of the trap which must have received the stalwart and fearless Angell. And yet, in spite of the probable danger, of the nature of which he could not guess, he resolved to go on. “I’ve got to,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t leave the girl in the power of that Navaho, and I can’t quit this section without ascertaining what has become of Bart Angell.”
On the bank of the ravine the prisoners halted without an order. Their eyes were directed toward a platform of rock about halfway up the opposite bank.
Buffalo Bill, following the look, saw the head of an Indian appear above some depression just beyond the far side of the platform. Before he could raise his rifle the head disappeared.
“Your cave is over there,” the scout said to Rixton Holmes.