“In that case, then, I won’t take any of the Pimas as guides. The smaller our force the more mobile it will be. Our foray is more of a scouting-expedition than anything else, although we shall be prepared to take care of double our numbers if we come to a show-down with the renegades.”
The horses were saddled, bridled, and watered; canteens were filled, and a day’s rations were secured at the chuck-shanty.
Silver Heels and Navi certainly looked fit enough for any kind of a trail.
Lieutenant Doyle, second in command now that Markham was away, halted the scout as he and Cayuse were riding for the headquarters cabin with Silver Heels in tow.
“You’d better take a few of the boys with you, Cody,” he advised.
“You may need all the boys yourself, Doyle,” smiled the scout.
“Of course Geronimo is the sort of lightning that strikes where and when least expected,” returned Doyle, “but I don’t think he’ll fool with the military so close to headquarters. Anyhow, we can spare some Pimas.”
“None for me. One Indian is all I’m going to take on this trip,” and the scout laid a hand on Cayuse’s arm. “My Piute pard is worth a dozen Pimas.”
“You’re too old a hand for me to tell you to look out for yourself. You always do that, I reckon.”