“Squaw your pard, squaw my pard. Shake um hand.”
Cayuse lifted his hand—his left one—and the compact was sealed.
“Now that that formality is over, Cayuse,” said Buffalo Bill, “you might tell us how you came to be strung up there against the cliff.”
The boy looked distressed.
“Cayuse no good. Make um worst break this grass. Let Apaches and paleface ketch um.”
“Paleface?”
“Wuh. One paleface, five Apaches. Paleface make um heap swear, say Cayuse tell um if Pa-e-has-ka sent um. Cayuse no tell um. Apaches haul Cayuse up with rope. Ugh.”
“Was the paleface Bernritter?”
Cayuse shook his head.