CHAPTER XVII.

THE TURN OF FORTUNE’S WHEEL.

“Kin I believe my eyes?” roared Nomad, as, gripping both the scout’s hands, he stood staring into his face. “Is et shorely my pard, Buffler, as I had given up as drowned like er rat in er trap down thar in ther Forty Thieves? Howlin’ hyeners! Why, his clothes ain’t even wet! Say, what new brand o’ Cody-luck was flashed on ye at this hyer turn o’ fortune’s wheel? Tell me, pard!”

“Tell us all,” chimed in Wild Bill, as he and the rest crowded around the scout; “we want to know, Cody.”

“Fortune’s wheel has turned queerly for all of us,” answered the scout, “but I think we’d better put off our explanations until some more favorable time--over some more of that maverick steer at the Lucky Strike, for instance. Eh, Blake?”

“I’m eating that steer with a good deal o’ relish,” grinned Blake. “If you say so, Buffalo Bill, we’ll wait till then.”

“Where Yellow Hair, Pa-e-has-ka?” asked Little Cayuse.

“She’s safe, boy,” answered the scout. “What have you done with the horses?”

“They’re safe, too, Buffler,” spoke up Lonesome Pete.

“Everybody seems to be safe,” smiled the scout, “with the exception of Blake. What ails your wrist?” he added to the miner.

“Exchanged tokens of esteem with Lawless,” explained Blake; “I put a bullet inter his shoulder, an’ he recippercated by puttin’ another across my wrist. Not much more’n a scratch, howsumever, but I’m almost willing to bet I’ve put Lawless down an’ out.”

“Too good ter be true,” muttered Nomad.

“Talking about bein’ safe,” said Hank Tenny, “ye come within one o’ losin’ yer Piute pard, Buffler Bill.”

“How’s that? Did Lawless have a try at him?”

“Nary. Cayuse, thinkin’ you was wiped out, sung a leetle death-song all fer himself. Ef Pete, thar, hadn’t been quick, Cayuse would have put a knife into his own breast.”

The scout turned and looked at the boy. Their eyes met, and what passed between them will never be known, but the scout reached out a kindly hand, drew the boy toward him and patted him on the shoulder.

“Cayuse would do a lot for Pa-e-has-ka,” said he, “and he knows Pa-e-has-ka would do a lot for him; but when Pa-e-has-ka takes the long trail, as some time he must, he does not want to think that Cayuse will sing his death-song and follow. This life was made to live as long as we can; then, when our time comes to quit it, to pass out like brave men who have fought well and are willing to go.

“But,” and here the scout turned briskly away, “enough of this. Wah-coo-tah is on the shelf, below the brink of the cañon, and Dell is with her----”

“Wah-coo-tah?” exclaimed Nomad.

“Yes--she was the ‘spirit,’ Nick, who spoke to us from the cellar of the Alcazar, and she may become a spirit in reality if something is not done for her very soon. She was shot, by Lawless himself, in the level of the Forty Thieves.”

“By Lawless!” echoed Wild Bill angrily. “There’s a hound for you. His own daughter, _amigos_.”

“Lawless is capable of anything,” went on the scout; “but just now that is neither here nor there. Dell and I were in the level and it was Wah-coo-tah who saved our lives. She must be taken as soon as possible to Sun Dance. Is there a doctor there, or shall we have to take her to Montegordo?”

“Gentleman Jim,” said Hank Tenny, “is a better man with the surgeon’s knife and with medicine than he is with the keerds. He ampertated Gusty Williams’ leg, thet time a blast went off an’ smashed it, an’ he----”

“Gentleman Jim will do, anyhow, until we can get another doctor from Montegordo. But we need the horses. Is it possible to get them up here from the gully?”

“Wuh!” said Little Cayuse.

“He means,” said Pete, “thet we kin git the critters up the same way us fellers come. But it’ll be a scramble.”

“We’ll do it, though,” declared Hank Tenny. “Leave the scout with his pards, boys, an’ we’ll go arter the hosses.”

Blake, Tenny, Pete, and Cayuse started off among the boulders toward the point where the gully entered the cañon. Blake assured Cayuse it wouldn’t be necessary for him to go along, but Cayuse would let no one besides himself do anything with Navi.

“While the horses are coming, pards,” said the scout to Nomad and Wild Bill, “we might go down to the shelf and bring up Wah-coo-tah. Two of us can carry her up easier than she could ride.”

“Thet’s the tork,” seconded Nomad.

They descended to the shelf and broke through the brush before the astounded eyes of Dell Dauntless.

“Why--why----” the girl faltered, “is that really you, Nomad? And Wild Bill, too! Oh, what luck! Where did you find them, pard?” and she shifted her gaze to the scout.

“I found them on top of the cañon wall,” answered the scout, “and Nick, there, was in a complaining mood.”

“Shucks, Buffler,” muttered Nomad.

“He was complaining because I had crossed the divide without taking him along,” smiled the scout. “How is Wah-coo-tah?”

“Me all right,” spoke up Wah-coo-tah for herself.

“She’s far from all right, Buffalo Bill,” said Dell. “I’m anxious to get her where she can receive medical aid.”

“It won’t be long now until we have her in Sun Dance,” returned the scout. “Cayuse, Lonesome Pete, Hank Tenny, and Henry Blake have gone to bring the horses from the gully.”

“Cayuse is all right, too?” cried Dell.

“Chipper as a cricket,” said Wild Bill. “All he needed to make him a happy Indian was a glimpse of the scout, alive and hearty. Cayuse has had it, and he’s feeling fine, thank you. And we hope,” he added, turning a sympathetic glance upon Wah-coo-tah, “that you will soon be feeling fine, too. You’ve done a heap for the scout and Dell--Cody has told us about it--and the whole possé of us feel like we couldn’t do enough for you. We’re going to carry you up the hill, Nomad and me, so you’ll be able to travel just as soon as the horses come along.”

“You plenty good to Injun girl,” said Wah-coo-tah.

Never before in her whole life, perhaps, had she been treated with such consideration. The lot of an Indian woman is a hard one, from the very time she begins it, on a papoose-board, until she leaves it, and is wrapped in her best blanket and hoisted into some tree, or buried deep under a pile of rocks.

Lifting Wah-coo-tah gently, old Nomad and Wild Bill carried her up the steep path, taking care to make the journey as comfortable for her as possible.

When they reached the top of the wall, Cayuse, Pete, Tenny, and Blake were coming with the horses. Bear Paw threw up his head and whinnied at the sight of the scout, and Navi, Cayuse’s pinto, and Silver Heels, Dell’s white cayuse, likewise seemed to recognize their owners; but Hide-rack, Nomad’s mount, didn’t seem to care a particle whether his owner was around or not.

“Pizen old critter, anyway,” said Nomad. “Honest, he’s so plumb full o’ pizen ye kin scrape strychnin off’n his neck with er shingle. But he’s so blame indiff’rent ter me thet I like him fer et. Et shows character; an’ I ain’t got no tender feelin’s when I gives him er wallopin’. Whoa, ye onnery, knock-kneed, gangle-legged ole speciment, you! Ye’ll never know how nigh ye come ter losin’ me, an’ I reckon ye don’t keer. But hyar I am, big as life, so don’t ye git sassy.”

As soon as Buffalo Bill was astride Bear Paw, he took Wah-coo-tah up in front of him.

The return to Sun Dance was then begun.

For a time the riders picked their way along the rim of the cañon among the boulders; then, striking the Montegordo trail, they had a better course, and rode faster.

From time to time the trail gave them glimpses of the bottom of the cañon. The flood had almost entirely subsided, save in one place where the down-grade struck the rise that continued to the foot of the “flat” on which the mining-camp was perched. In the low place a lake had formed, extending for a mile up and down the gulch.

“Lucky thar wasn’t any placer-miners at work in this part o’ ther gulch,” remarked Blake. “Ef thar had been, they’d hev had little chance o’ escapin’ with their lives.”

“The flood never got very clost ter Sun Dance,” observed Tenny. “The old gulch is too much up an’ down; thar ain’t no decent river as would run through it.”

“I reckon _Nuzhee Mona_ Lake is down some,” said Pete. “It couldn’t lose all thet water without feelin’ it. I’ve thought, fer a long time, thar’d be doin’s if anythin’ ever happened ter thet wedge o’ stone thet kept it out o’ the cañon. I don’t reckon all the wedge was blowed out, kase if the hull lake had spilled over it would make more of a showin’.”

“It made a big enough showin’ ter suit me,” said Tenny. “When I seen thet wall o’ water rushin’ at me, I went over my ‘Now I lay mes’ for’ard, back’ard, an’ sideways.”

“An’ scramble!” cried Pete; “gee, man, how us huskies scrambled fer thet gully. Oh, I reckon, arter all, thar was water enough.”

Half an hour later the horsemen filed down the cañon top toward the camp of Sun Dance.

“Last time I traveled this hyer road,” said Blake, “I didn’t know a thing about it.”

“An’ ye wouldn’t never hev knowed a thing about it if it hadn’t ’a’ been fer Dell Dauntless,” spoke up Tenny.

“As I said afore, an’ now say ag’in,” said Blake, turning in his saddle and removing his sombrero--a new one, recently purchased at the place where he had secured his six-shooters--“I take off my hat to Dell Dauntless.”

“We all do that,” added Wild Bill, “and likewise to Wah-coo-tah.”