Up and up the steep slope toiled the Apaches, the white man swearing and urging them on. In a little while the whole villainous crew disappeared over the top of the gully-bank, each group still carrying its helpless burden.
Cayuse ran to the horses. He felt them over with his hands; felt of their legs, their heads, and, lastly, groped his fingers over the saddles.
One horse he could not recognize, either by sight or touch. The other, unless his reasoning deceived him, belonged to Pa-e-has-ka!
Pa-e-has-ka! The Piute caught his breath.
Was Buffalo Bill one of the prisoners just captured by the white man and the Apaches?
It was a startling thing for Cayuse to come looking for Nomad and find Buffalo Bill.
That was not a time for useless thought, however, but for action.
Hurrying to the eastern wall of the gully, Cayuse climbed the slope. Its top gave him an outlook over a small, flat plain, stretching eastward and lying distinctly under the starlight.
The Indians and the white man were carrying their prisoners across the level ground toward a little hill of stones. A black opening yawned in the top of the stone hill, and Cayuse knew it to be an old, and probably abandoned, mine.
The boy dared not go farther, and he knelt where he was and continued to watch. Owing to the distance, he could trace the movements of the white man and the Apaches but indistinctly; yet he saw enough to convince him that the two prisoners were being lowered down into the old mine.