“Soldiers!” echoed Dell.
“Lieutenant Doyle and six troopers from Bonita!” added Buffalo Bill. “Well, well, pards, here’s luck with all the trimmings.”
Racing out into the middle of the gap, Buffalo Bill mounted a boulder and waved his hat vigorously.
“’Pon my soul if it isn’t Cody!” cried Doyle, as he and his dusty troopers pulled to a halt. “But how’s this?” the lieutenant added, with a look at Nomad and Dell. “You left camp with a girl pard and a Piute pard, Buffalo Bill. You still have your girl pard, but where’s the Piute? And who’s this other warrior, that’s new to us?”
“The other warrior,” smiled the scout, “is my old trapper pard, Nick Nomad.”
“The deuce you say! Then he wasn’t killed in that ambush that played havoc with Bascomb’s escort?”
“Not as anybody knows on,” spoke up Nomad. “I’m feelin’ quite chipper jest at present.”
“So I observe,” grinned Doyle. “Where’s the boy, Cody?”
“We don’t know, Doyle,” said the scout, “but we’re going to ask you and your men to help us find him. By the way, though, how do you happen to be here?”