As they progressed up the right-hand fork of the arroyo, the walls grew higher and steeper, giving the defile almost the appearance of a gulch.
They passed more fragments of quartz, the number having been added to until, at the last, there were six pieces.
“There are more Apaches joining the one who shot the arrow,” said Buffalo Bill, “and——”
The last word was clipped short by an incisive report, the whistle of a bullet, a flapping of the brim of Dell’s brown sombrero, and a little spout of sand between Silver Heels and Bear Paw.
If Dell Dauntless was startled she did not show it.
“A poor shot,” she commented, taking off her hat and looking at the brim.
“It lacked only an inch of being a murderous shot,” returned Buffalo Bill. “It came from the top of the right-hand wall, and proves that the Apaches know what we are about and are trailing us along the rim of the gulch. They can get at us, and it is impossible for us to get at them. Let’s see what Silver Heels can do in a pinch.”
The scout dug in with his irons and Bear Paw flung himself up the gulch, taking at a leap every bush or boulder that got in his way.
Dell raced along behind, Silver Heels doing nobly, and displaying more fire and bottom than the scout had supposed him to have under his sleek white hide.