“Pard of Buffalo Bill’s?”
Little Cayuse straightened his shoulders and threw back his head proudly.
“Wuh! Me all same pard Pa-e-has-ka’s.”
“Why were you trailin’ the Apaches?”
Cayuse did not answer. Instead, he looked straight into the eyes of the white ruffian with studied insolence and defiance.
The white man pulled a revolver from his belt and pressed it against the boy’s breast.
“Answer, or I’ll blow a hole through ye!” he threatened.
Cayuse did not open his lips. He continued to dare the man with his eyes, however, even more insolently and defiantly.
“Blast ye!” raged the man, lowering his revolver and giving the helpless boy a kick that threw him to the ground. “Ye won’t talk, huh? Waal, ye needn’t! I know Buffalo Bill sent ye to trail the reds, an’ I reckon Buffalo Bill will be follerin’ ye, afore long, but that won’t do you any good.”
The ruffian turned and growled an order to the Indians. Immediately the entire five mounted their horses and began climbing to the top of the wall of the defile.