“What sort of business did you want Buffalo Bill for, Wild Bill?” she asked.
“I had a bunch of rascals holed up in that mine back there, and wanted Pard Cody to come on and help me run them in. By the time Cody got here, the rascals had got out and had run me in.”
“But what was the work?”
“A job of salt, Miss Dauntless. Lawless and his gang were blowing fine gold into a played-out mine with a shotgun. I saw some of the performance. While I was looking on, two of the gang saw me. I managed to get away, but it was a close call; then, the next day, my charitable and amiable disposition steered me right into the bunch of trouble-makers once more, and they had me so I couldn’t move. That paper-talk I sent to Buffalo Bill went astray, I understand, and Crawling Bear was killed by Cheyennes. Too bad, too bad! I think Crawling Bear stacked up closer to a white man than many other Indians I’ve known. By the way, Cody, what are you going to do with Wah-coo-tah?”
“There’s nothing for me to do, I reckon, but to send her back to the Cheyennes.”
“No, no!” cried Wah-coo-tah. “Me no go back to Cheyennes.”
“It’s like this, Wah-coo-tah,” explained the scout. “The Ponca who gave up the five ponies for you is dead, and your father won’t dare show himself among the Cheyennes after what has happened here in Sun Dance Cañon. You’ll be perfectly safe with your people.”
“Me want to stay with Pa-e-has-ka!” averred Wah-coo-tah. “Pa-e-has-ka good friend of Wah-coo-tah. No like to go back to Cheyennes.”
“What did I tell you?” Wild Bill whispered in Dell’s ear.
“Of course,” flared Dell, “Wah-coo-tah couldn’t travel with the scout and his pards.”