“Then I was rattled some more, kase ye fanned my face with er lead pill, an’ howled like er Commanche. ‘Don’t ye dare come nigh me!’ sez you, like thet; ‘don’t ye dare come nigh me,’ you says, knockin’ me all of a heap. ‘This hyar’s my sister, an’ I’m takin’ her ter town.’
“I allowed right off, Buffler, thet ye was madder’n a locoed steer, but I didn’t see how Dell could be locoed, too. So I whoops ter Dell: ‘Don’t you reckernize old Nomad, gal?’
“An’ would ye b’leeve et? Dell larfs right out. ‘Go ’way,’ says she; ‘I’m goin’ ter town with my brother, an’ you ain’t got no call ter interfere. I’m ther Queen o’ Sheeby, an’ he’s King Bill, brother Bill. Hands off, er we’ll give ye yer ticket.’
“I knowed by thet thet Dell had been grazin’ on ther same crazy weed that growed on yore range, Buffler. I didn’t dare come up with ye, an’ I didn’t dare let ye git erway from me, seein’ as how ye might run onter ’Paches an’ git inter trouble. So I follered.”
Nomad leaned back against the cliff and drew his sleeve over his wet forehead.
“Tork erbout yer night trails,” he went on, “thet was ther wust thing o’ ther kind I ever went up ag’inst. Think er me, trailin’ two pards through them gullies an’ uplifts, fearin’ any minit ye’ll turn on me an’ do me up with er bullet! An’ all ther time, ye onderstand, I was afraid ye’d plump inter a bunch o’ ’Paches. Ef ye’d done thet, I’d hev had ter run ter yer rescue, an’ mebbyso got peppered by you as well as ther reds. Oh, I dunno! I reckons thar’s times when a feller feels wuss nor he does at others, but ef I ever sees er time I feels wuss nor I did last night, I wants some ’un ter wake me up an’ tell me.”
A slight smile curled about the scout’s lips. There was a humorous side to the situation, and he saw it. Dell, however, saw the other side, and she reached out her hand and laid it on Nomad’s big, hairy paw.
“Nick,” she said gently, “of course you know that Buffalo Bill and I hadn’t the least idea what we were doing.”
Nomad gave the small hand a pat, and grinned a little himself.