Fear did for Coomby what the lust for battle could not do for Nomad; and the outlaw succeeded in beating the trapper in getting up, and was off and away before he could be caught.
Dell and Cayuse shot on along the cañon in pursuit. Buffalo Bill got astride Bear Paw, Nomad found Wah-coo-tah’s pony, and Wild Bill picked up the cayuse belonging to the dead Ponca.
Lawless and his men had torn their horses loose from the bushes where they had been secured, and had lost themselves in the chaparral.
The scout and his pards hunted the cañon through, up and down and from side to side, but without result. Lawless and his gang had made their escape.
“Whar ther bloomin’ blazes did they go, anyways?” demanded Nomad, his voice heavy with chagrin and disappointment, when he and the rest of the scout’s party rounded up once more in the vicinity of the ore-dump.
“They know the country better than we do, Nick,” said Buffalo Bill, “and they have made a clean get-away.”
“Waugh, but et shore glooms me up!” growled the trapper. “I got er bone ter pick with thet outfit.”
“So have I,” put in Wild Bill, with a soothing grin, “but I reckon the bone can wait. What’s the use of being in a rush, Nomad?”
“We kin afford ter wait, as fur as thet goes, but I like ter make a clean up as I purceed.”
“We’ve had enough of this for a while,” put in the scout. “Hickok has been pretty active for a man who has been so long without anything to eat or drink, and it will be close to supper-time when we get back to Spangler’s. We’ll ride for Sun Dance, and leave Lawless and his men to be dealt with later. Ah!” the scout added, facing about in his saddle. “Come here, Wah-coo-tah. I was just wondering what had become of you.”