Once, twice, three times her hand went up in a circle, the pearl handle of the bowie flashing in the sun.
“Now!” she murmured.
There was a second or two in the preparation for the throw, but the feat itself consumed less than a second.
“Bravo!” cried Buffalo Bill, as the girl hurled the knife and its edge bit into the rope above Little Cayuse’s head.
The rope was not cut cleanly through, but the few strands that were left parted quickly, and Cayuse shot downward into the scout’s arms.
Carrying the boy to the horses, Buffalo Bill laid him on the ground.
Dell took her canteen from the saddle-horn, sank down beside the boy, and took his head on her knee.
Her tenderness as she ministered to Cayuse gave the scout a glimpse of another side of her nature.
“Poor little chap!” she murmured, pressing the canteen to his lips. “You had a tough time of it, didn’t you?”