The door was closed, and the scout slipped up cautiously, to find it tied on the outside. It was empty, but it was evident that Ginger Sam had been there, for he had changed his wet boots for others.
The ashes in the fireplace were cold, and Buffalo Bill seemed to grasp the situation, for he said:
“He came here and left without weapons; he has gone, and where but to the Indian village to get more.
“That will take him a week or longer, so I will visit him upon our return, for he doubtless has a gold find near here, so that keeps him alone in these wilds, for alone he certainly is.
“He may have struck it rich, and so will I when I find him, as there are old scores to settle with that man.”
Then, fastening the door as he found it and returning to where he had left his horse, for he had followed the trail on foot, Buffalo Bill started for the camp of his black scouts.
The negro courier from the penned-up settlers of the valley had made himself solid with one and all of the black scouts, who did all they could to hasten the recovery of his strength. He had recuperated wonderfully, and was so anxious to start upon the trail of rescue that Buffalo Bill decided to make a start the next afternoon and travel by half-day trails until Black Bill was able to stand what the others could.
So the next day the chief and his scouts started upon the trail of rescue.