Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Weird Warning; Or, Dauntless Dell's Rival онлайн

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“I suppose so,” said the scout thoughtfully. “The worst of it is, Nick, I can’t blame the Indian. According to the laws and customs of the red man he is in the right. I had no business interfering between him and Wah-coo-tah.”

“Any white man would hev done et!” asserted the trapper.

“Any white man who had the right kind of a heart,” qualified the scout.

“Wah-coo-tah ain’t er common Injun squaw.”

“That’s why I helped her.”

“All this hyar,” commented Nomad, “on’y illustrates what I was er sayin’ erbout trouble. This excitement come around ther curve, full-tilt, an’ hit us squar’ in ther face. Thar wasn’t no dodgin’ et.”

Half an hour later the pards descended into Sun Dance Cañon, and an hour’s ride down the cañon brought them to the foot of the slope leading to the “flat,” and the mining-camp.

“We’re a good two hours ahead o’ Dell an’ Cayuse,” asserted Nomad, while they were climbing the slope.

“I hope we’re in time for Hickok’s business, whatever it is,” answered the scout.

Bije Spangler, as usual, was occupying a couple of chairs in front of the Lucky Strike. The ragged, palm-leaf fan was working slowly, and he watched the pards approach with a speculative eye. Spangler had no difficulty in detecting that they were persons of consequence.