CHAPTER XXIII.
BLACK BILL’S PRISONER.
As Black Bill came on down the valley, the scouts wished to go out to meet him, to greet him with a cheer.
But this Buffalo Bill would not allow.
“We do not yet know who may have been left in the camp, pards.”
Upon second thought, this was considered the wisest plan, and they kept in their place of concealment and waited.
Down the valley in silence walked the guide, and at last reached the camp. He disappeared behind the little thicket of pines, then reappeared, and, walking to a grazing pony, slung his lariat.
The animal was cleanly caught and led back to the thicket.
Then some minutes passed away, and once more the negro reappeared. He was leading the pony, and upon the animal, supported by several saddles and blankets and tied there with lariats, was an Indian brave.
That he was badly wounded the scouts could see at that distance. The head of the pony was checked up, so that he could not feed, and then he was led to the trail and started up the valley on the trail of the Indian village and the braves who had stampeded.