Dell turned away her face and could not answer. The bugle had already sounded “boots and saddles,” and a few moments later she rode off down the cañon with the men bound for Whipple.
“I’ve seen er hull lot er petticoat warriors, Buffler,” remarked Nomad, following the retreating dust with moody eyes, “but I never seen one ter match Dauntless Dell, o’ ther Double D.”
“Nor I,” returned the scout. “She’s Class A among Western girls.”
“Right you are,” said Doyle, who had drawn near. “Miss Dauntless has been the hit of the piece that was pulled off here. You’re not going after Geronimo, Cody, they tell me?”
“There are enough after him as it is, Doyle.”
“He’ll give ’em all the slip, mind what I’m telling you. After he raids around in Mexico until he gets tired, he’ll let the soldiers take him in and conduct him back to the reservation; then, when he gets good and ready, he’ll break out again. He has got to have a certain amount of excitement, every so often, in order to get along and feel right.”
“I’d like ter know what he put in thet pool,” said Nomad, firing up his pipe. “Ther more I think o’ thet loco bizness, ther stranger et gits.”
“I don’t suppose anybody will ever find out, Nomad,” said Doyle. “Geronimo knows a lot of things that he keeps to himself.”
“Thet loco stuff must be one o’ them thar things, then, leftenant. Ef ther gov’ment could find out what et is, an’ go round doctorin’ all ther springs in the hills arter a gang o’ ’Paches break loose, et wouldn’t be long afore them Injun fad fer jumpin’ ther reservation would die out.”