“Well, I didn’t know but ’twas mebbe a man.”
They took him down into the camp, where Snaky Pete was nervously awaiting their report. Snaky Pete questioned him, and inspected his throat.
“Finger prints there, it looks like,” he said. “’Twas a man. And if a man, then ’twas an enemy, er he wouldn’t slid out that way. Mebbe there aire more of ’em up there. Strengthen the guards, and every man stand to his post.”
Old Nick Nomad, lying in the doorway of the hut, was listening for some other sound from Buffalo Bill.
“What was the meanin’ of that?” Pizen Jane asked him, after the helpless sentry had been brought in.
Nomad was silent, and she repeated her question.
“I might say, if I thought I could trust ye.”
“I’ll prove to ye that you can,” she said; “though I’m doin’ jes’ what I have been meanin’ to do all day.” She bent over him and cut the cords that held him, and then slipped the knife into his hands. “Now, what was it?”
“Buffler Bill,” said Nomad. “He was out thar. Thet war his signal ter me; and I answered it.”
“He’s got men with him?” she gasped.