“Was it any one else than the chief, I would be anxious,” said Sergeant Buck hopefully; but all could see that he was anxious, even though it was the chief.
Buffalo Bill had said that they would be back before night. He had not returned. It had been his intention, they knew, to go out each day with the negro, and in a different direction, to try and come upon some scene Black Bill would recognize.
If he did not do so from that camp, they would move to another, and in that time Don Miller would be as well as any of them, and they would see what discovery could be made.
But here, the very first day of the search, the chief of the scouts and the giant negro did not return. What could it mean?
Buffalo Bill was not the man to get lost anywhere. He could find his way in the darkness right through an unknown country. It was a talent with him—an instinct—and his men never feared for him, save from an ambush from an enemy, or treachery.
There were several of the scouts who still doubted the black guide. They could not feel the faith in him which their chief did. In spite of the seeming honesty of the negro, they doubted him. He was an object of mystery to them—a man to dread.
They could not believe that he had started alone to find aid, to look up Buffalo Bill, and yet could not find his way back to the point whence he had started. It looked strange to them. Now he had gone off alone with the chief of scouts, and they had not returned. This to some looked like treachery.
The scouts awaited supper for some time, and then ate it, as the chief and the negro did not return.
The meal was, however, not enjoyed by any one.
Bedtime came, and yet what could be done? No one could go out at night to look for the missing chief and the negro.