“Wouldn’t thet jest nacherly rattle yer spurs?” he said, in an awed voice. “Whoever heerd of ’Paches actin’ like thet?”
“They have had a drink from that pool in the valley,” said Buffalo Bill. “That lot of reds hasn’t the least idea of what’s going on.”
Nomad flung back his head and gave vent to a roaring laugh.
“This hyar is plumb comical!” he choked. “How long will ther spell last, Buffler?”
“It lasted Dell and me all night,” replied the scout. “How much longer it will hold the reds depends altogether on how much of the water they drank, and when they drank it.”
“Reckon we better hike fer Tonio Pass afore they comes out from under ther influence,” suggested the trapper; “although I ain’t skeered none of er passel o’ unarmed reds, so long as I’ve got Saucy Susan an’ Scoldin’ Sairy in my hands.”
“Queer, isn’t it, Buffalo Bill?” observed Dell, as she and the scout trailed after Nomad.
“It is that,” said the scout. “If Geronimo doctored that pool, he certainly overplayed his hand.”
“Ef Geronimo would only take er drink out o’ ther pool hisself,” said Nomad, “mebbyso he’d walk right inter Camp Bonita er Fort Bowie an’ ask ther sojers ter put him in ther gyard-house. Thar’s er heap er strange things in this leetle ole world thet we never know anything erbout till we finds ’em out. Hey, Buffler?”