Until the pony disappeared from sight around the bend the giant negro stood watching him. Then he turned back to the deserted camp and disappeared in the thicket.
Still Buffalo Bill did not allow the scouts to show themselves.
After another long wait, the negro reappeared, and, looking toward the cañon, he beckoned several times. “Now, pards, we’ll go.”
With this, Buffalo Bill led the way, and they walked rapidly toward the Indian camp, Black Bill having returned to the thicket.
When Buffalo Bill and his men reached the camp, they beheld a strange scene.
The redskins had deserted everything. But that was not all, for they had left the badly wounded Indian Black Bill had sent off, and two dead comrades, the latter having evidently just died of their wounds. And they had left still more, for, lying in the pine thicket was a prisoner.
It was a white man. He was securely bound, painfully so, and, as the scouts rode up, they saw Black Bill kneeling by his side and unfastening the thongs that were about his hands and feet, which were much swollen.
A glad cry broke from the lips of Buffalo Bill as he advanced toward the prisoner.