Bending forward and downward, not without a painful effort, Angell took the knife between his teeth. Then he lifted his hands and quickly severed the cords that bound his wrists.
A minute later Buffalo Bill, like his comrade, was free of his bonds. “It war ther girl,” said Angell, his voice in a whisper. “She did ther trick while that ornery hound of a Holmes war unwinding his rotten yarn off onto you.”
The scouts searched the chamber for weapons, but found none.
Disappointed, but not daunted, Buffalo Bill stole to the narrow corridor through which Holmes and the girl had departed, and listened intently.
The faint sound of voices in the outer and main apartment of the cave told him that his enemies were still underground. He went forward into the corridor until he was able to both see and hear. The corridor had many projections, the walls nowhere were even, and he quickly found a hiding place.
Rixton Holmes was speaking in the Navaho tongue when the king of scouts reached his shelter.
“Raven Feather shall have his revenge,” he said, in a cold, even tone. “After I have gone, the cave and all that is in it is yours.”
“My brother will depart alone?”
There was savage eagerness in the question.
“No,” was the firm answer. “The white maiden will go with me.”