“Why, it’s Clayton,” he said. “Pool Clayton. He’s hurt, I think.”
Clayton was gasping from the effects of his violent run. As soon as he reached them he began to tell his story, and it amazed them:
“The girl whose father you were burying,” he said; “the girl who was carried away by Crazy Snake from the cabin, she——”
He stopped, choking for breath.
“Yes; go on!” the scout begged.
“I found her in charge of a young Indian called Lightfoot, who had an Indian girl with him; and I took her away from them. They followed us, and other Blackfeet chased us. We took to the grass country, which I fired, thinking thus to hide the trail of my horse. We were both riding one horse. But the horse was weakened by the long run from the fire, and finally fell into a deep gully, in trying to leap it.
“I struck on my head, and didn’t know anything for a while. When I came to myself the girl was gone. I couldn’t find any trail, or anything; and I don’t know what became of her, or what to make of it. The girl was Lena Forest, and she said you——”
He stopped again, coughing and out of breath, but he had told enough to stir them into the most intense interest.
“Guide us to that gully,” said Buffalo Bill.
They started at once, Clayton, telling more of his story as they hurried on.