“That is useless, Wah-coo-tah. I don’t like to leave you here alone, with the Ponca and your father both loose in the gulch.”
“Me keep away from um,” said the girl, a soft light creeping into her large eyes as she looked at the scout.
“I will see you again?”
“Ai. Me help um Pa-e-has-ka find Wild Bill.”
“Have you seen anything of Fire-hand, or my pard, Nomad, since you left Sun Dance following my talk with you this afternoon?”
“No see um. Me see only Coomby and Clancy, and Big Thunder.”
“Well, if you’re determined to stay here, Wah-coo-tah,” said the scout, “we’ll have to separate. My pard, Nomad, is missing now, as well as Wild Bill. This Forty Thieves Mine looks like a good place to go to hunt for them—for Wild Bill, at least. Take care of yourself, girl. Pa-e-has-ka is your friend, and will stand by you, don’t forget that.”
Again the soft light came into the girl’s eyes. The scout, with a rattle of his spurs, darted down the cañon. Looking back as he rode, he saw Wah-coo-tah taking up her station behind the rocks.
Buffalo Bill, who had a calculating eye for distance, measured the miles as he rode. One, two, three, four, five he counted. As a proof of the accuracy of his count, the word “five” had hardly dropped from his lips before he saw, a little way ahead of him, the ore-dump of the Forty Thieves.
Drawing down to a more cautious pace, he swept his eyes over the surroundings. There was no sign of any living thing in that part of the cañon.