“Judd! you take the west side of that gorge, and I’ll go east,” he commanded his brother scout.
“How’ll I communicate? Signal?”
“No! If there are many of the reds they have already frightened away most of the small animals that we might imitate, and to give a bird-call would utterly ruin us. No bird will be waking up at this time o’ night—ugh!”
“Well, what then?” demanded the other.
“Never mind what you find, keep still. Meet me here—in twenty minutes if possible; not later than half an hour from now, at most.”
“Half an hour?”
“Yep. And remember, a confounded lot can happen in half an hour,” added Cody, with a chuckle.
CHAPTER XI.
A BUSY HALF-HOUR.
Buffalo Bill had spoken a truer word than he thought. A great deal may happen in thirty minutes, and the Border King, as he separated from his brother scout, was unconsciously approaching a series of startling and perilous happenings.