Cayuse, breathless from the kick he had received, lay on the ground and watched.
In a little while he saw the five Indians on the top of the steep wall which closed in the end of the defile. One of them lowered a rope.
The ruffian thereupon grabbed Cayuse by the shoulders and dragged him to the foot of the wall. The next moment he had made the swinging rope fast to the bonds that secured Cayuse’s wrists.
“Haul away, ’Pachies!” roared the white man, stepping back.
The pull of the rope drew the boy’s arms above his head, and then he was lifted up and up the sheer cliff wall.
“There!” yelled the white man; “make it fast.”
The rope was secured at the brink of the cliff, and Cayuse, hanging by his bound hands, was left swinging against the face of the smooth rock.
Revolver in hand, the ruffian began to fire at the rock, planting his bullets all about the swinging boy.
“Goin’ ter tell me about Buffalo Bill?” he asked.
Cayuse would not answer.