CHAPTER III.
WILD BILL DISAPPEARS.
Buffalo Bill had hoped to escape recognition for a time until he could look into conditions in that locality, but he was not to be so fortunate, as he learned the moment the four pards were alone in their large double room.
Bozeman was only one of many of the older towns the scout expected to visit, in prosecution of his mission, to rout the rogues who were stealing both from the government and the nation’s charge, the red man.
“Pa-e-has-ka make um listen,” said Cayuse, as soon as the door had closed upon the outside. “Heap bad palefaces call Long Hair ‘Buffalo Bill.’ Pards in home of Great Father tell on string and talks. Pa-e-has-ka get letter come Virginia City. Bad Crow warriors wait in pass, shoot Pa-e-has-ka.”
“Where did you get that?” asked the scout of his Indian boy pard.
“All same make um believe sleep on floor Red Tiger Saloon; hear bad paleface talk.”
“Did you learn their names?”
“One Jim Price, other all same Dave. Jim give Crows bad blankets, bad meat, bad whisky. Dave sell Indians sand for hunting grounds, Jim pay Dave good blankets, good meat, good rum.”
“I see; Price is the Indian agent, and Dave is a land shark?”
“Ugh!”