The alarm of Little Cayuse had increased almost to a panic. What he had heard had struck him like a blow between the eyes.
Nomad and Wild Bill captured! Buffalo Bill helpless in the depths of the mine, and a horrible doom of some kind about to be released and sent down upon him!
What should he do?
That was the question that ran through Little Cayuse’s brain like a searing-iron.
If he went back to the ore-dump, and tried to let down a rope to the scout, the Cheyenne would kill him; if he followed Lawless—but Lawless had already vanished; at least, Little Cayuse concluded, he could follow the three basemen down the cañon, and perhaps might find a way to interfere with their nefarious designs.
Rushing back up the gully, Cayuse untied Navi, twisted the buckskin thong into a hackamore, and bounded upon the pinto’s bare back; then, riding cautiously out into the cañon, he made after Clancy, Coomby, and Tex.
Never had the faithful Piute boy felt that more was required of him, and never had he felt so doubtful of his own powers.
Following three men in broad daylight, and at the same time keeping out of their sight, was a difficult piece of work. What helped Cayuse most, however, was the fact that the three white men were utterly unsuspicious. They seemed to feel that they had no enemies at large in the cañon, and they did no watching along the back track.
For the rest of it, the Piute took advantage of every patch of brush and every convenient boulder that lay along his course.
Two miles down the defile, as Cayuse judged, the three horsemen turned their mounts and set them directly at the high wall. In this place the wall was a steep slope, yet the horses scaled it and vanished over the rim with their riders.