CHAPTER XV.

THE RESCUE OF NOMAD AND WILD BILL.

Following the two Cheyennes, behind whom were the prisoners, rode another white man. This white man Cayuse recognized as Andy. Andy brought up the rear of the little procession.

“Hyer’s a how-de-do!” exclaimed Hank Tenny. “Is thet Lawless an’ his gang, kid?”

“All same,” said Cayuse. “White men git um guns, _muy pronto_; then we make run to top of cañon, ketch um Lawless, save Nomad and Wild Bill.”

“All the guns we got,” answered Lonesome Pete, “are strapped on us. Them fellers has rifles.”

“At close quarters,” put in Blake, “our six-shooters are better than rifles. I’m plumb anxious ter try out these new barkers o’ mine. Then, too,” he added darkly, “I owe Lawless somethin’, an’ here’s my chance ter even up. Couldn’t let it slip, nohow. Follow me, you fellows!”

Blake took to the rocks, with which the country contiguous to the top of the cañon was covered, and worked his way swiftly toward the point where the path Lawless and his men were following came over the edge of the wall.

Pete, Tenny, and Little Cayuse leaped briskly after Blake. The lust for combat was running hot in the veins of all, and this, in particular, was true of the Piute boy.

The latter’s grief over the fate of Buffalo Bill had given place to a feeling of hope. Nomad and Wild Bill were alive, and there was a possibility that the scout was equally well off.

The hope was slight enough, for Cayuse remembered the talk he had overheard between Lawless, Clancy, Coomby, and Tex, and from that he had gathered that the flood was to do the work for the scout. But, in spite of appearances, it might be that the flood had failed.

The thought was enough to take Cayuse out of his gloom and dejection and to send him eagerly into a pitched battle with the outlaws. Whatever else befell, at least Nomad and Wild Bill could be rescued.

Before Blake and the others reached the top of the path, Lawless had ridden over the edge of the wall and laid his course among the boulders. Blake’s account was with Lawless himself, and the miner drew one of his brand-new revolvers and ran after the leader of the outlaws.

Pete, Tenny, and Cayuse, on the other hand, were thinking only of rescuing Nomad and Wild Bill; so, crouching among the rocks, they waited for the first Cheyenne to climb off the slope, and then gave their attention to the two Indians behind him.

Pete selected one of the two Indians, and Tenny the other. As they rose from behind the rocks to use their weapons, they were seen by the Cheyennes.

A furious yell from the savages spread the alarm. The Cheyenne ahead turned back, but Lawless already had his hands full with Blake and could give no help to the rest of his gang.

The crack of six-shooters began instantly, while the yell of alarm was still on the lips of the Cheyennes. Of the two with the prisoners, one fell at the first fire; the pony gave a frightened jump, and Nomad, who was laid across the pony’s back, tumbled to the ground.

Cayuse had lost his rifle at the time he had had his encounter with Clancy and Coomby. Pete had given him back his knife, but a knife was of little account in such a combat.

The instant the Cheyenne dropped from his pony, Cayuse leaped to the side of the savage and drew a couple of six-shooters from the belt at his waist.

Meanwhile, the other Cheyenne with Wild Bill behind him, had dug his heels into the sides of his cayuse and was making a terrific effort to get away. He used a revolver, by way of holding his white foes in check, but his shooting, owing to the plunging of his horse, was anything but accurate.

The Indian who was not hampered with a prisoner had whirled his pony about, thrown his rifle to his shoulder, and was drawing a bead on Tenny.

As Cayuse straightened up, after securing the revolvers from the slain Cheyenne, he saw the leveled rifle and realized Tenny’s peril. The only thing that would save Tenny was a quick shot.

Without taking aim, Cayuse let fly a bullet. As fortune would have it, the bullet struck the Cheyenne in the arm. The rifle was discharged, but, its aim being deflected at the moment the trigger was pulled, Tenny was saved by the fraction of an inch.

The Cheyenne, with one arm useless, decided he had had enough of the fight, and headed his horse the other way.

Wild Bill, on the back of the other Cheyenne’s horse, had taken account of what was going on, and managed to twist himself around and drop. As he fell, Andy, who was galloping past, sent a bullet at him; but Andy was riding too fast, and had fired in too much of a hurry. Wild Bill escaped the bullet, and the long strides of Andy’s horse had carried the outlaw too far for another shot.

Meanwhile, Blake had been doing his utmost to shoot Lawless. He succeeded in putting a bullet into the scoundrel’s shoulder, and, in exchange, got one through the wrist himself. It was Blake’s right wrist, and his six-shooter dropped.

As Blake bent down to recover the weapon, Andy and the Cheyennes galloped past. Lawless was reeling in his saddle, and he would have fallen had not Andy spurred alongside and steadied him with one arm.

Thus the two white men and the two Indians, having lost their prisoners, plunged away among the rocks, leaving the field to Cayuse, Pete, Tenny, and Blake.

When Blake, with a handkerchief bound about his injured wrist, got back to the top of the path, he found his jubilant companions just freeing Nomad and Wild Bill.

“What luck, Blake?” cried Pete.

“He stopped one o’ my bullets,” Blake answered, “an’ one o’ his men had ter help him get away.”

“Was ye hurt?” asked Tenny.

“Winged,” was Blake’s sententious response, “but I don’t reckon it amounts to much. Anyway, I’d have been glad to get a bullet through both wrists fer the chance o’ hittin’ Lawless. Mebby I haven’t paid him all up fer the ride he give me on that steer, but I’ve gone a long ways to’rds settlin’ the account.”

Nomad and Wild Bill, having been freed of their ropes, sat up and began rubbing their benumbed limbs.

“Whar’s Buffler?” asked Nomad.

“Thet’s more’n we knows, _amigos_,” replied Pete. “We ain’t seen him sense yesterday, when you all tripped anchor an’ sailed out o’ Sun Dance.”

“Waal, Pete,” went on Nomad, “ef ye kain’t tell me whar Buffler is, mebbyso ye kin ease my mind some as ter how you an’ Tenny an’ Blake happened ter be eround hyar ter lend Leetle Cayuse a helpin’ hand?”

“We was ridin’ down ther gulch, this mornin’,” went on Pete, “jest ter see what was goin’ on at ther Forty Thieves. Blake allowed he was some cur’ous, an’ I knowed Tenny an’ I was. Jest as we got clost ter ther ore-dump, we seen a slather o’ water, high as the wall of a ’dobie, makin’ a dead-set at us. We climbed out o’ the way, and stood thar ter watch ther flood slam past. While we was lookin’, we seen Cayuse tryin’ ter git out o’ the cañon. Tenny is some punkins at riata-throwin’, so he uncoils his rope an’ draps it over Cayuse’s head; then we hauls Cayuse in, bronk an’ all. We crawled up on the gully wall, a little arter that, an’ seen Lawless an’ his outfit climbin’ up the side o’ the cañon, so we all made a _pasear_ around among the rocks with the intention o’ headin’ the gang off, an’ gittin’ you fellers out o’ their hands. I reckon we done it, hey?”

“I reckon you did, old sport,” said Wild Bill, “and you’ve got our gratitude. They were after our scalps, those fellows, and they’d have taken them before they had carried us far from the cañon. That’s the sort of a duck Lawless is. I’ve been mixed up with him enough so that I know his caliber. Whoosh!” and Wild Bill got up and stretched his arms. “I’m feeling like a back number this trip, Nomad. The way the pair of us was snaked out of that level, leaving pard Cody to take care of himself, is something I’m going to remember with regret as long as I live. I say, Cayuse!”

The boy, who had been standing at the edge of the cañon, turned around.

“Where did all that water come from, do you know?” went on Wild Bill.

“From down-gulch,” said Cayuse.

“And flowed up-hill, eh?”

“Thet’s what bothered me,” said Pete, “whar it all come from an’ why it was flowin’ contrary ter natur’.”

“It wasn’t flowin’ contrary ter natur’,” said Tenny. “Jest below hyer the gulch bottom pitches this way, an’ thar’s quite a sink a mile farther to’rds Sun Dance. I’ve noticed thet lots o’ times while I was goin’ an’ comin’. But whar the water come from is a mystery. Thar ain’t been no cloud-burst, as fur as I’ve seen.”

Cayuse, in a very few words, explained where the water had come from.

As Lawless’ diabolical plot to wipe out the scout was borne in upon the mind of old Nomad, his rage became tremendous.

“Confound ther pizen, no-’count whelp!” he shouted, shaking his fists in the direction the outlaws had taken. “Instid o’ snakin’ Buffler out o’ thet level, he left him thar ter drown! Did ther water come up over ther top o’ thet ore-dump?” he asked suddenly, turning to Pete and the others.

“The water buried thet ore-dump clean out o’ sight!” declared Pete.

Nomad stood for an instant as though stricken, then rushed for the rim of the cañon and looked down.

The waters were receding as quickly as they had risen. The ore-dump of the Forty Thieves was already shouldering aside the waves.

Nomad stared, realized what must have happened, then flung himself down and covered his face with his hands.

Wild Bill scowled, his eyes glittered, and he whirled away from the cañon.

“If Captain Lawless has wiped out Cody, the best and truest pard a man ever had,” said he, between his clenched teeth, “Nomad and I will run out his trail--and, at the end of it, we’ll take all the pay the murderous whelp can give us.”

“Ye speak true, Hickok,” growled Nomad, looking up; “Lawless owes us er heap, an’ he’ll hev ter settle.”