“Cayuse!” said he.
“Wuh!” said Little Cayuse.
“See if you can locate the Apache who fired that arrow.”
The boy leaped back, studied the inclination of the shaft, whirled and swept his eyes over the hills, using the inclination as a clue, and then started off at a rapid pace.
“Why do you send him to look for the Apache?” asked McGowan.
“Because any Apache now loose in the hills is a renegade,” was the answer, “and may have had a hand in the dastardly work engineered by Bascomb and Bernritter. That arrow brings a message.”
“We might first have examined the message, Buffalo Bill, before you sent Little Cayuse after the Indian.”
“It would then have been too late. It may be too late now. The Apache who launched the arrow is undoubtedly making the best use of his legs to get out of the vicinity.”
The scout stepped to the arrow and, with an exertion of considerable strength, pulled its steel point from the wood. Next he untied the folded paper, dropped the arrow, and began opening out the paper so he could read it.