They were up at the break of day, and Buffalo Bill, field glasses in hand, was scanning his surroundings.
“Whar aire we?” asked Angell, as he raised his arms in a yawn.
“We have been going westward. If I am not out of my reckoning, we are about five miles from your cabin.”
“Too bad. I’d been a-hopin’ we’d been p’intin’ t’other way.”
“So had I, for the other way is the way the Navahos will take, and that also is the way that villain Holmes will take. I wonder if the redskins have overtaken and killed him. If they have, pretty Myra Wilton is now in the camp of the Navahos.”
“Thar’s nothin’ like findin’ out,” said Angell quickly, “an’ I’m fer startin’ this identikle minute.”
“We’ll have a bite of breakfast and then start.”
Half an hour later the scouts were on the road to the scene of their adventures of the day before.
The platform that concealed the entrance to the cave was reconnoitered, and when Buffalo Bill saw that it had been shoved aside, leaving the shaft exposed, he came to the conclusion that the Indians had abandoned the underground retreat for good and all.
Both his horse and that of Angell had been stolen, but on the trail to the cave he picked up a lariat that had fallen from the saddle of one of the led animals.