“’Course I knows et, Dell,” said he, “but thet didn’t lighten matters none fer yore ole pard last night. I had ter keep arter ye, kase I couldn’t let ye git away. Now an’ ergin ye’d sot down ter rest, wharupon it was me ter hover in ther background, breathin’ on’y when necessary an’ imaginin’ every minit Buffler ’u’d find me out.
“Some time clost ter mornin’ ye give me ther slip. Kain’t onderstand noways how it was done. You two went inter a short ravine. I didn’t see ye come out. Waitin’ fer er spell, I trailed keerful through thet ravine, an’ ye wasn’t thar! No, sir, ye’d vanished plumb.
“From then on I was huntin’ all ways, up an’ down, for’ard an’ back an’ crossover. Day began ter loom up, ther sun climbed over ther peaks an’ found me on ther top of thet clift, up thar, lookin’ down on this trail an’ ther edge o’ another clift. Then”—Nomad heaved a long breath—“I seen you two a-settin’ on this rock, bound tergether with them bracelets, torkin’ ter each other. I passed my eyes along ther trail tryin’ fer a place ter git down. Somehow, you struck me as hevin’ got yer senses back, an’ I wanted to bust in on ye, an’ say: ‘Buffler, hyar’s me; take er good look, an’ fer Heaven’s sake don’t shoot yer ole pard.’ I didn’t see er way down jest then, but I did see them thar ’Paches a-creepin’ down on ye, as I thort. Then I tuned up, an’ you two looked every way but ther right ’un. Ye got up, staggerin’like, an’ I tuned up ergin. Then I seen Dell tumble off ther clift, an’ I near tumbled off’n thet other clift, up thar, myself. I scrambled eround fer er place ter git down, an’—an’—— Waal, thet’s erbout all. Hyar we aire, big as life, an’ we hev come through things, Buffler, like we never went through afore, an’ like I hopes we’ll never go through ergin.”
Once more Nomad pulled his sleeve across his forehead.
CHAPTER XXVII.
LOCOED APACHES.
Sometimes there is more in the telling of a story than there is meat in it. But there was meat in Nomad’s recital, and, profoundly stirred as he was, he told it with a simple effectiveness that made Dell and the scout live over with him his night’s trailing.
“That’s good, Nick,” remarked the scout, after a brief silence, “as far as it goes.”
“Sufferin’ catermounts!” exclaimed Nomad. “Don’t et go fur enough ter suit ye, Buffler?”