Cody’s horse was in a white lather of sweat from its long run; and the scout’s clothing was powdered with white dust, and dust streaked his face to a grayish tinge. He showed every indication of long and hard riding.
Clendenning sprang up, with outstretched hand, when the noted scout was brought before him.
Buffalo Bill had saluted, but he now took the extended hand of the officer.
“In the name of Heaven, Cody, where have you come from?” cried the major. “I thought you were over about the Sepulcher Mountains.”
“So I was, major,” was his answer, “but now I am here. I rode from there since this morning.”
Major Clendenning’s amazement showed in his face.
“You had a change of horses, no doubt, and you must be nearly dead! Let me get you some wine!”
“I had only one horse. He is pretty well exhausted, but will be all right after a rest. I need another, which I hope you can let me have.”
“Swallow the wine, Cody, and then I’ll hear your story. Straight from the Sepulcher Mountains since morning!”
Buffalo Bill drank the wine, and then began to tell his story.