Both the scout and the girl watched the trapper from around the edge of the boulders.
The mouth of the tunnel was narrow and high, almost like a gash in the granite wall. Boulders lay strewn about it, and there was a chance that some of those boulders screened one or more of the guard Geronimo had left with Bascomb.
This latter possibility, however, did not pan out, and Nomad reached the cavern entrance unmolested.
Halting there for a moment, he suddenly dashed into the cave, his aim being to put himself in the darkness of the interior before the savages could get a shot at him, in case there happened to be any savages there.
No shot was fired, and from this Buffalo Bill augured hopefully.
“Nick doesn’t seem to be having any trouble at all, Dell,” said he to the girl. “It would be hard luck if Bascomb had been taken away by the reds.”
“What would you do in that case, Buffalo Bill?” Dell asked.
“Find the trail again, and follow it.”
“Suppose it led you into Mexico?”
“Then I’d go there. I shall not halt my pursuit of Bascomb until I have laid the scoundrel by the heels. He has made trouble enough. In some manner he has wormed himself into the good graces of Geronimo, and so long as Bascomb is at large he will help the old chief in his villainy. So far as Geronimo himself is concerned, the military can take care of him, and I will not mix up in the game; but Bascomb I intend to get myself. I feel a sort of personal obligation in his case.”