“Hyar ye come!” said Nomad, and foot by foot he pulled Dell over the edge of the wall. “An’ thet,” he finished, as Dell sank down on the rocks, “is erbout ther closest call Pard Buffler an’ Dauntless Dell hev had in many a day. Waugh! I feel like ther strain on me was as bad as et was on you an’ Buffler. Every minit I thort was shore goin’ ter be ther next with ye. Et took me some time ter git hyar, an’ I was almost skeered ter look when I got whar I could see ye when I struck ther trail. However did et happen, anyways?”
“I—I was unsteady and could not walk straight,” replied Dell. “I felt all right in every other way, only my feet would not go where I wanted them to. Getting too close to the edge, I slipped over, and——”
“I seen thet, Dell. What I means is, how did you an’ Buffler come ter be ironed tergether like thet?”
“Neither of us know.”
Nomad stared incredulously.
“What! Ye don’t know? Howlin’ hyeners, gal, ye don’t mean ter tell me ye an’ Buffler could git manacled tergether without never knowin’ who et was done et?”
“That’s precisely what I do mean to tell you, Nomad,” insisted the girl. “Queer things happened last night. Buffalo Bill and I know that much.”
“When was ye manacled?” pursued the wondering trapper.
“It was some time after sundown, yesterday.”
The scout, lifting himself slowly, took a sitting posture beside the girl. His right wrist was gouged and bleeding, as was also Dell’s.