“Do you understand, Dell?” went on the colonel. “Geronimo and his renegades have——”
“I understand,” said the girl, drawing a quick breath and groping her way to a chair, “but there must be some mistake, there must be.”
“It is here, plain enough,” and the colonel shook the message.
“Why,” murmured Dell, “Buffalo Bill, Nomad, and Little Cayuse were traveling with Bascomb’s escort—and that message says that all were killed.”
The colonel started forward, and every muscle grew rigid.
“Good heavens!” he exclaimed, passing one hand dazedly across his forehead, “can it be that Cody and his pards have reached the end of their trails? Is it possible that——”
He did not finish. Without pausing to get his hat he rushed out of the room, clattered across the veranda and toward the telegraph-office.
Dell, in the sitting-room, was gazing listlessly into space, thinking of the brave and chivalrous scout, the redoubtable old trapper, and the loyal little Piute, Cayuse.