Environment The Science Behind The Stories Canadian 3rd Edition Whitgott Solutions Manual

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Copyright © 2017 Pearson Canada Inc. 7-1
7
Soils and Soil Resources
Chapter Objectives
This chapter will help students
Describe some important properties of soil
Characterize the role of soils in biogeochemical cycling and in supporting plant
growth
Identify the causes and predict the consequences of soil erosion and soil
degradation
Outline the history and explain the basic principles of soil conservation
Chapter Outline
Section PPT #
Central Case: Mer Bleue: A Bog of International Significance 7-3 to
7-4
Soil as a System
Soil is a complex, dynamic mixture
Soil formation is slow and complex
A soil profile consists of layers known as horizons
Soils vary in colour, texture, structure and pH
7-5 to
7-21

Biogeochemical Cycling in Soil
Soils support plant growth through ion exchange
Soil is a crucial part of the nitrogen cycle
Soil is an important terrestrial reservoir for carbon
Regional differences affect soil fertility
7-22 to
7-32
THE SCIENCE BEHIND THE STORY: Dark Earth: A New (Old) Way
to Sequester Carbon
7-30
Soil Erosion and Degradation
Soil erosion can degrade ecosystems and agriculture
Erosion happens by several mechanisms
Accelerated soil erosion is widespread
Soils can also be degraded by chemical contamination
Desertification damages formerly productive lands
The Dust Bowl was a monumental event in North America
7-33 to
7-44
Protecting Soils
The Soil Conservation Council emerged from the experience of drought
Erosion control practices protect and restore plant cover
Better irrigation technologies can prevent soil salinization
To protect soil it is important to avoid overgrazing
7-45 to
7-53
Conclusion 7-54 to
7-55

Key Terms
A horizon
agroforestry
B horizon
bedrock
Biological weathering
C horizon
chemical weathering
clay
compaction
degradation
dentrification
deposition
desertification
erosion
ion exchange
leaching
litter
mechanical weathering
nitrification
nitrogen fixation
O horizon
parent material
peat
permafrost
physical weathering
porosity
R horizon
salinization
sand
sediment
shelterbelt
silt
soil
soil profile
Soil structure
Soil texture
waterlogging
weathering
Teaching Tips
1. Bring soil samples to class on which students can conduct a soil texture “feel test.” In
general, sandy soils feel gritty, silty soils feel like flour, and clay soils are sticky
when moistened. Soils feel different because of the size of the most abundant particle
type.
Particles are categorized as follows:
Sand: 2.0–0.05 mm in diameter
Silt: 0.05–0.002 mm in diameter
Clay: less than 0.002 mm in diameter
2. For students to better grasp the differences in soil particle size, have them visualize a
barrel to represent a sand particle, a plate to represent a silt particle, and a dime to
represent a clay particle. Because most soils are a combination of sand, silt, and clay
particles, soil scientists use a more complicated method to determine the percent
composition of each type. A good addition to this soils lab would be to give each
group of students 100 g of soil from a different location. Have them run the soil
through a set of soil sieves and then weigh the fractions to determine the percent
composition of the different particle types (four or five types, depending on the soil
sieves, ranging from gravel to clay). Have students make a pie chart or a bar graph

illustrating the composition of their soil. Have students compare their results with
those of other groups that have soils from other areas.
3. Soil formation is a very slow process, and in some cases it can take 500 years for one
inch of soil to develop. To emphasize the importance of soil conservation, use the
timeline below to demonstrate the time required to form 2.5 cm of soil:
2002: West Nile virus infects humans in Canada.
1996: The first animal, Dolly the sheep, is cloned from an adult cell.
1989: The Berlin Wall is torn down.
1970: The first Earth Day is celebrated.
1962: The Beatles, a British pop group, make their first recordings.
1945: World War II ends.
1934: Dust Bowl occurs in the Great Plains.
1915: Albert Einstein formulates his general theory of relativity.
1885: Canada establishes its first National Park at Banff.
1854: Henry David Thoreau publishes Walden.
1681: The dodo, a large flightless bird, becomes extinct.
1608: Native Americans teach colonists how to raise corn.
1513: Juan Ponce de León discovers Florida.
1500: The Incan empire reaches its height.
4. Demonstrate runoff and erosion. First, put a piece of grass sod on a cafeteria tray.
Have a student pour water over the sod using a watering can or a spray bottle to
simulate rain. Observe the runoff. Repeat this procedure using a pile of loose dirt on a
second tray. Compare the runoff. Repeat the procedure with each tray held at a 20- to
30-degree angle to simulate the problems on slopes.
5. Assign students to read the first chapter of The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.
This chapter of the classic novel describes the conditions of Dust Bowl Oklahoma
that ruined crops, causing massive numbers of foreclosures on farmland.
6. Contemporary agriculture occupies a large area of the Prairies that was formerly
Tallgrass Prairie. Innovations in agriculture are re-examining the capacity of this
landscape to produce biomass efficiently. Some cattle producers are removing cattle
from large feedlots and returning them to permanent pastures composed of local
native prairie grasses and wildflowers. Native prairie vegetation also has a
tremendous potential to store carbon in its root system. When compared to non-native,
cool-season European grasses commonly planted for hay and pastures, prairie species
are able to absorb and hold much more rainwater and, because of the root system,
more carbon. To prove this to students, secure seeds of common, cool season lawn
grass such as perennial rye and native prairie species such as Big Bluestem, Little
Bluestem, and Side Oats Grama. Have students plant several seeds in clay or peat
pots, place them on a windowsill, and watch the events unfold. When several inches
of growth has accumulated, gently pull the plants near the base and observe the root
system. Depending on the time of year, the prairie grasses will exhibit robust root
growth and might even be pot-bound. Prairies produce two-thirds of their biomass
underground, making them excellent carbon sinks.
7. Use signalling for concept understanding. There are several sets of concepts in this
chapter—soil horizons, types of erosion, and erosion reduction methods, for instance.

A good way to check for understanding is signalling. With the types of erosion, for
instance, give students the following keys:
• Wind erosion: Hold one hand with fingers extended, palm perpendicular to the
desk. The fingers look like a flag blowing in the wind.
• Splash erosion: Hold one hand with palm parallel to and facing the desk, fingers
spread wide apart and angling down toward the desk.
• Sheet erosion: Hold hand with palm parallel to and facing the desk, fingers
straight out and close together.
• Rill erosion: Make a small fist.
• Gully erosion: Hold hand with palm facing up as if cupping a softball or making
the shape of a gully.
Now show students a photo or ask them to decide on the type of erosion that
would occur in a particular circumstance. Each student, on your mark, will
indicate the answer with his or her signal. You can instantly tell which students
know the correct answer, which are uncertain (hesitating, glancing around at
others), and which have incorrect answers. This is an easy way to know if you
need to cover a concept more thoroughly or if students are ready to go on.
Discussion Questions
1. What are some of the difference between soil in North America and Sub-Saharan
Africa?
Refer to figure 7.11
2. What are some primary methods of soil erosion?
Wind, water
3. Discuss how overgrazing contributes to soil degradation.
Figure 7.18
Essay Questions
1. What are the five factors that influence soil formation?
Climate, organisms, topography, parent material, time.
2. Explain soil colour, texture, structure and pH.
Soil colour: the soil can indicate its composition and sometimes its fertility.
Black and dark soils are usually rich in organic matter whereas pale grey
to white colour often indicates a chalky composition, leaching, or low
organic content.

Texture: Determined by the size of particles and is the basis on which soils
are assigned to one of the three general categories. Examples include clay
and loam.
Structure: A measure of the organization of the soil. Some degree of
structure encourages soil productivity, and organic matter, biological
activity, and clay help promote this structure.
pH: The degree of acidity or alkalinity of a soil influences the soil’s ability
to support plant growth. Plants can die in soils which are too acidic or
alkaline.
3. What are some erosion-control practices?
Crop rotation, intercropping and agroforestry, contour farming and terracing,
shelterbelts, reduced tillage.
Additional Resources
Websites
1. About the Dust Bowl, Modern American Poetry (www.english.uiuc.edu)
This website provides a brief description of the Dust Bowl, plus a map, photos, and a
timeline.
2. Soil Science Basics, NASA Goddard Space Flight Center (http://soils.gsfc.nasa.gov)
This website provides information about soil formation, chemistry, microbiology,
and field characterization.
Audiovisual Materials
1. The American Experience: Surviving the Dust Bowl, 1998, PBS Home Video
distributed by WGBH (http://www.pbs.org)
This program looks at America’s “worst ecological disaster,” which brought financial
and emotional ruin to thousands of people in the Great Plains.
2. On American Soil, 1983, the Conservation Foundation, video distributed by Bullfrog
Films (www.bullfrogfilms.com/)
This video shows the nature and extent of erosion in America.
3. The Living Soil: The Value of Humus, 1991, distributed by Films for the Humanities
and Sciences (www.films.com)
This program is part of a series, Planet Under Pressure: Geochemistry and the Fate
of the Earth. This film examines how nutrients in the soil are replenished through
interactions between organisms and abiotic factors in the environment.

Answers to End-of-Chapter Questions
Testing Your Comprehension
1. What is soil?
Soil is a complex, plant-supporting system that consists of disintegrated rock, organic
matter, water, gases, nutrients, and microorganisms.
2. Describe the three types of weathering that may contribute to the process of soil
formation.
Physical or mechanical weathering breaks down rocks without changing them chemically.
For example, ice wedges can form in small cracks in a rock, breaking it apart.
Chemical weathering results from water or other substances chemically interacting with
the parent material, and altering the composition of the constituent minerals.
Biological weathering occurs when living things are responsible for breaking down the
parent material by either physical or chemical means. For example, root growth wedging
cracks open, or organic acids dissolving some minerals.
3. What processes most influence the formation of soil? What is leaching, and what is its
role in soil formation?
The processes most responsible for soil formation are weathering, erosion, sedimentation,
and the deposition and decomposition of organic matter.
Leaching is a process in which soluble materials (usually in soil, rock, sediment, or
waste) are suspended or dissolved in a percolating liquid, and then transported through
the subsurface.
4. Name the five primary factors thought to influence soil formation, and describe one
effect of each.
The five factors influencing soil formation are:
Climate: Warmer and wetter climates have accelerated rates of chemical weathering,
whereas colder climates tend to have higher rates of physical weathering.
Organisms: Differences in local vegetation and other organisms alter the input of organic
material (both amount and type). Roots can sometimes contribute to biological
weathering, but sometimes they stabilize soils.
Relief: Steeper slopes lead to higher rates of erosion.
Parent material: Soil formed from the weathering of limestone will be different from that
formed from granite.
Time: Recently formed soils will not be as well developed as older soils.

5. How are soil horizons created? What is the general pattern of distribution of organic
matter in a typical soil profile?
Soil horizons are distinct layers created by the interaction of weathering, erosion,
deposition, and organic matter generation and decay, and by leaching (removal), transport,
and deposition of soluble materials by fluids percolating downward from the surface.
Generally, the concentration of organic material decreases downward in the soil profile,
with the highest concentration at the surface.
6. Why is erosion generally considered a destructive process? Name three human
activities that can promote soil erosion.
Erosion is considered a destructive process because local rates of erosion can greatly
exceed local rates of soil formation, leading to soil loss. Erosion also can greatly alter
local topography and diminish the quality of arable soils.
Erosion can be accelerated by overly intensive of fields, overgrazing of rangelands, and
deforestation or other removal of vegetation.
7. Describe the principal types of soil erosion by water and by wind.
Water erosion can occur as sheet, splash, rill, and gully erosion. Splash erosion occurs as
raindrops strike the ground with enough force to dislodge small amounts of soil. Sheet
erosion results when thin layers of water traverse broad expanses of sloping land. Rill
erosion leaves small pathways along the surface where water has carried topsoil away.
Gully erosion cuts deep into soil, leaving large gullies that can expand as erosion
proceeds.
Wind also is a flowing fluid that can cause erosion, the transport of particles. Deflation is
wind erosion in which all loose, fine-grained material is picked up from the surface and
carried away. Abrasion, another type of wind erosion, occurs when wind-transported
particles become “projectiles,” striking other rocks at the surface and causing them to
break.
8. How does terracing effectively turn very steep and mountainous areas into arable
land?
Terraces are level platforms, sometimes with raised edges, that are cut into steep hillsides
to contain water from irrigation and precipitation. Terracing transforms slopes into series
of steps like a staircase, enabling farmers to cultivate hilly land without losing soil to
water erosion. Terracing is labour-intensive to establish but in the long term is likely the
only sustainable way to farm in mountainous terrain.
9. How can fertilizers and irrigation contribute to soil degradation?
Fertilizers boost crop growth if they supply required nutrients that were otherwise not
sufficiently available to the crop plants. If more fertilizer is added to a field than the crop
can take up, the excess nutrients may be leached from the soil into streams or
groundwater. Some nutrients may also be converted to a gaseous form, mostly by

bacteria. These gases may then be released to the atmosphere. Fertilizers such as nitrates
also can build up in soils, affecting both soil and groundwater quality.
Poorly designed or improperly implemented irrigation also can result in soil degradation.
Overirrigation in poorly drained areas can cause or exacerbate certain soil problems.
Soils too saturated with water may become waterlogged. When waterlogging occurs, the
water table is raised to the point that water bathes plant roots, depriving them of access to
gases; this can damage or kill plants. An even more frequent problem is salinization (or
salination), the buildup of salts in surface soil layers. In dryland areas where precipitation
is minimal and evaporation rates are high, water evaporating from the surface may pull
saline water up from lower horizons by capillary action. As this water rises through the
soil, it carries dissolved salts; when the water evaporates at the surface, those salts
precipitate and are left at the surface. Eventually, high salinity levels can make the soil
inhospitable to plants. Irrigation in arid areas hastens salinization, because it provides
repeated doses of water.
10. Describe the effects on soil of overgrazing.
Overgrazing leads to removal of plant cover and therefore exposes the soil surface to
erosion by wind and water. Exposure of the soil also may cause compaction, which limits
water infiltration, soil aeration, and plant growth. Grazing practices are sustainable if they
do not decrease the amount and diversity of vegetation on the grazed lands over time.
Interpreting Graphs and Data
1. On the basis of this graph, which of the biomes or managed ecosystems
(forest/woodland, steppe/ savannah/grassland/shrubland, tundra/desert, or
pasture/cropland) increased the most, in terms of percentage increase, from 1700 to
1990? Which one of them decreased the most, in terms of percentage decrease? What
happened to the area covered by tundra/desert over the time period represented on the
graph?
[Remember that on this type of graph you don’t read the number straight off of the y axis;
rather, look at the proportion of the total land area that is represented by each type of
biome or managed ecosystem. To determine the amount of change consider whether the
proportion of total land area occupied by that biome or managed ecosystem has
decreased or increased on the left side of the graph, in 1700, compared to the right side
of the graph.]
Pasture increased the most in terms of percentage increase from 1700-1990. Forest
decreased the most. The tundra/desert biomes remained approximately the same.
2. The table on the next page presents some information about carbon storage in various
terrestrial reservoirs, based on data from Janzen’s study. It also provides the current
total area occupied by each of the biome types. For each biome type and
pasture/cropland, calculate and fill in the last column of the table, which shows the

amount of carbon stored per hectare (in units of t/ha, or tonnes per hectare). One
calculation (for the steppe/savannah grouping) has been completed as an example.
• Forest/woodland: 274.8
• Tundra/desert: 59.3
• Pasture/cropland: 81.9
3. From the calculations you made and the information that is now in the final column of
your table, which biome type stores the most carbon per hectare? Which stores the least
carbon per hectare? How does the pasture/cropland carbon storage per hectare compare
to that in the natural ecosystems?
Forest and woodlands store the most amount of carbon per hectare. The tundra/desert
biomes store the least amount of carbon per hectare. Pasture/cropland managed
ecosystems are significantly lower than the natural ecosystems represented in this study,
with the exception of tundra/desert biomes.
4. Based on the data provided in the table, which of the natural ecosystems stores the
highest proportion of its carbon in plants? Which of the natural ecosystems stores the
highest proportion of its carbon in the soil? How does the proportion of carbon stored in
plants vs. soils in pasture/cropland compare to the natural systems? Do these results
surprise you? Why or why not?
• Highest proportion in plants: forest/woodland
• Highest proportion in soil: forest/woodland
In the pasture/cropland the carbon storage numbers are significantly lower, and the
proportion of carbon stored in soils (vs. plants) is much higher than for any of the natural
ecosystems. [One way to approach this analysis is to compare by dividing the amount of
carbon in soils by the amount of carbon in plants, for each ecosystem type.]
This does not surprise me because in pastures and croplands the plants are harvested and
the stored carbon is therefore removed periodically. In these managed ecosystems, soils
also may have been degraded or depleted so they cannot store as much carbon.
5. In terms of carbon storage in terrestrial reservoirs, what do you think would be the
overall result of the shift, shown in the graph, to increasing pasture/cropland at the
expense of forests and grasslands?
The overall result would be less carbon storage in terrestrial reservoirs, which most likely
would lead to increased levels of carbon in the atmosphere.

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As Dell flickered on up the gulch, fierce cries of triumph floated
down from the right-hand wall. Indians on horseback showed
themselves against the sky-line—five of them—and peered
downward with hands shielding their eyes.
Well in the shadow of the gulch above, Dell captured Bear Paw,
dropped his bridle-reins over her saddle-pommel, and tossed her
own reins over Silver Heels’ head. With the reins in this position, the
white cayuse would stand as though tied to a post.
Dropping to the ground, the girl crept back down the gulch for a
little way, and watched further developments from behind a boulder.
The five Apaches, thinking the scout had been slain, were
dismounting and making a hurried descent into the gulch.
Their descent was a race, for the first man to reach the scout
would secure his scalp. And to secure the scalp of Pa-e-has-ka, the
long-haired chief, was an honor, indeed!
Slipping, sliding, jumping, the redskins drew nearer and nearer the
bottom of the gulch. One was well in the lead, and Dell, her nerves
aquiver with excitement, watched his dark form come closer and
closer to the scout.
At last, when the leading Apache was about to make the final
jump to the bottom of the gulch, and was already fingering the hilt
of his scalping-knife, Buffalo Bill regained his feet.
Crack, crack, crack! rang out his revolvers.
Two of the Apaches—the one in advance and the other next
behind him—were wounded and dropped into the gulch bottom; but
they were not badly wounded. They were scared far more than hurt,
and they at once took to their heels, one going up the gulch and the
other down.
Instantly a thrill of alarm shot through the scout on the girl’s
account.

Four Indians were still on the gulch wall, but they were frantically
climbing toward the top again. Leaving them to their own devices,
the scout rushed after the Apache who had gone bounding up the
gulch.
This redskin had a wound in his left arm, but he still clung to the
hilt of the knife.
Dell saw him coming, covering the ground with great leaps. If he
ever reached the horses, the girl knew that he would make way with
one, or both, of them—and this was something that must not be
allowed to happen.
Fearlessly the girl sprang out from behind her boulder and planted
herself between the Apache and the horses.
Undaunted by the sight, the savage kept on, flourishing his knife
and yelling furiously.
“Shoot!” cried Buffalo Bill.
He feared to let loose a bullet himself, for he, and the Indian, and
the girl, were in a direct line with each other. Had he fired, and had
the redskin dodged at the exact moment, the bullet might have
struck Dell.
But there was no need for the scout to use his weapons.
Hardly had the command to fire left his lips when the gulch took
up the echoes of the girl’s revolver.
The Apache was caught in the air; and when he fell, he came
down sprawling—wounded a second time, and harmless to do the
girl any injury.
“Well done!” cried the scout. “Dell Dauntless, you’re a plucky girl.”
“That wasn’t so much,” Dell answered deprecatingly. “He had only
a knife, and you had already wounded him at that.”
“His first wound did not interfere very much with his ability to
attack you. I only shot to wound.”

“That was the way with me.”
“These Apaches are the tools of Bascomb and Bernritter. They
ought to be rounded up and driven back to their reservation. Why
Apache got such a bad heart?” the scout asked, halting beside the
wounded Indian.
The Apache made no response, other than to try and sink his
teeth into the scout’s leg. The scout stepped back quickly.
“Look out for him, Buffalo Bill!” exclaimed Dell. “He’s as venomous
as a tiger-cat.”
Dell’s bullet had struck the Apache in the thigh, making walking
impossible.
“We can’t bother with him,” said the scout. “There are four more
reds around here, and they’ll probably happen along and take care
of him. We’ll mount and keep on until we find Little Cayuse. I can’t
understand what’s become of the boy. The Apache he was following
was joined by four others; if he still continued to follow the Apaches,
he ought to be somewhere in this vicinity.”
“I should think,” hazarded Dell, “we ought to have met him before
this.”
“We ought to, and there must be some good reason why we
haven’t. We’ll try and discover the reason.”
The darkness of the gulch rendered difficult the task of looking for
the stones Cayuse had been piling at irregular intervals.
Nevertheless, the scout scanned every step of the way carefully, but
without result.
Meanwhile, as they rode, Dell kept a sharp watch for Indians. She
saw none, so it was evident that the taste the Apaches had had of
the scout’s resourcefulness had been sufficient to discourage them in
their sniping tactics.
As the scout spurred on, his alarm for Little Cayuse increased.

“He’s plenty able to take care of himself,” the scout said to the girl,
“but any one, I don’t care how wary and cautious, is apt to be
caught napping, or taken at a disadvantage.”
“He’s an Indian, and only a boy. It doesn’t seem to me that the
Apaches would be very hard on him even if they did capture him.”
“He’s a Piute, Dell, and the Piutes and Apaches haven’t any use for
each other. Then, apart from their tribal hostility, I suppose the
Apaches are smarting to play even for what happened at the Three-
ply Mine the other day. They lost a couple of warriors during that
fight. They know Cayuse is a pard of mine, and that it was owing to
myself and my pards that the fight went against them. The fact that
Cayuse is a boy wouldn’t cause the Apaches to have any mercy on
him.”
The gulch walls widened by degrees as they continued on. This
allowed more sunlight to come into the defile and made the
surroundings plainer.
“The Apaches must have doubled back on their trail,” Dell
suggested, “or else Cayuse never followed them this far.”
“It’s about an even chance whether the Apaches have doubled
back, or whether something went wrong with Cayuse farther down
the gulch. If we don’t pick up another clue pretty soon, we’ll about
face and double back on our own trail.”
At that moment the scout’s attention was attracted to another
defile opening into the left wall of the one they were following.
It was a narrow break in the lavalike crust of the earth, and,
inasmuch as its trend was due east and west, the sun penetrated it
to the bottom.
It is doubtful whether the scout would have paid much attention
to the defile had the sunlight not rested upon some object which
flashed in his eyes.
The wide-awake Dell caught the flash as quickly as did the scout.

“Is that a piece of ore with mica in it, Buffalo Bill?” she queried,
pulling up her horse.
“It may be,” was the scout’s response. “But we’ll take a look at the
thing and make sure of it before we pass on.”
Together they rode over to the mouth of the smaller gulch.
The flashing object was not a piece of iron pyrites, but a short,
double-edged knife.
With an exclamation, the scout hung down from his saddle and
picked it up.
On the flat handle was a very crude drawing of a horse, burned
into the horn.
“This belongs to Cayuse,” said the scout. “That picture on the
handle is the way he signs his name.”
“Then he lost the knife?” queried the girl.
“Cayuse never loses anything so long as he is master of his own
actions. I incline to the opinion that the Apaches laid a trap for him
and sprung it about here. The ground shows signs of a struggle.
During the struggle Cayuse’s knife dropped from its sheath, and
when he was carried off his captors failed to see it. There seems to
be no doubt, Dell, but that the boy is in the hands of the Apaches.”
“Then there must be more Indians than those who attacked us.
They could not have had Cayuse with them while they were
following us on the gulch wall and shooting down.”
“He may have been with them, or they may have left him
somewhere, or——”
The scout broke off his words, while his face tightened in sharp
lines.
“Or?” asked Dell.
“Or,” the scout finished, in a low tone, “they have already taken
vengeance on him for their defeat at the mine.”

Thrusting the boy’s knife through his belt, Buffalo Bill dismounted,
and looked carefully over the ground where the struggle resulting in
the boy’s capture had taken place.
Owing to the nature of the soil, the signs were none too plain—a
misplaced stone here and there and a few indentations which might
have been considered only the natural results of wind and weather
but for the disturbed stones.
Walking up the smaller defile a little way, the scout saw enough to
convince him that the Apaches, with their prisoner, had ascended the
branch.
Coming back to the waiting girl, he mounted.
“The Apaches, after the capture,” he announced, “went up the
defile. They were on foot.”
“This was a good place for an ambush,” said Dell, turning in her
saddle and looking back as they rode onward. “The Indians could
have hidden behind boulders on both sides of the defile and sprung
out on Little Cayuse as he passed.”
“It wouldn’t be like the boy to let himself get caught in such a
trap. Still, it’s possible. You can trap a fox if you go about it right.”
“I’d like to know who those three white men are who are helping
Bascomb and Bernritter.”
“Ruffians, I reckon, whom Bascomb managed to pick up. There
are plenty of scoundrels loose in this part of the country who would
help at anything if they got paid for it. The desert is full of white
Arabs, as ready to slit a man’s throat as they are to eat a meal. You
ought to know that, Dell.”
“I do, of course, and I haven’t any doubt but that it was easy for
Bascomb and Bernritter to find men to help them in their villainy.
Don’t you think, too, that they have spies in the Three-ply camp?
Some one who found out Golightly was to leave, early this morning,
to meet Annie at the Phœnix station?”

“Possibly. It has not been so very long, however, since Bernritter
was a trusted superintendent at the camp. He must have known
when Miss McGowan was expected. Armed with this knowledge, he
and Bascomb laid their plans to capture the girl. They set their three
masked men to watching the trail for the horses and the buckboard;
and, even if McGowan himself had gone to meet the girl, instead of
Golightly, the plan would have been carried out just as it was.”
This smaller defile, which the scout and the girl were ascending,
had many angles and turns.
As the scout finished speaking, they rode around one of the turns
and came upon a sight which brought them to an abrupt halt.
Horror rose in the girl’s eyes, and a gasp escaped her lips. She
looked at the scout. His face wore an ominous frown.
Leaping out of the saddle, he hurried forward without a word.
Dell likewise dismounted and hastened after him.

CHAPTER XV.
L I TT L E C AY U S E C A U G H T.
The scout’s praise of Little Cayuse was well-deserved. The lad was
brave and quick-witted, and prided himself on being a warrior, on
having won an eagle-feather, and on knowing how to carry out the
orders of Pa-e-has-ka.
Yet bravery and quick wit are not always sufficient to keep their
possessor from disaster.
Little Cayuse had been sent to find the Apache who had launched
the arrow. This was entirely owing to the scout’s forethought, and
was done before the contents of the note brought by the arrow had
been read.
Cayuse had not the least idea why he was to follow the Apache
who had shot the arrow into the office door. He had received his
orders direct from Pa-e-has-ka, however, and that was enough for
him.
As he crossed the rim of the valley in which lay the buildings of
the Three-ply Mine, the roar of the mill-stamps was muffled by the
wind, and his quick ear could distinguish a fall of hoofs from
somewhere up the arroyo.
To pile his little heap of quartz “float” took him but a few
moments, and then he started along the arroyo at a run.
If the Apache rode at speed, Cayuse knew that he would not be
able to come anywhere near him. But this did not discourage the
boy. He would run out the trail as far as he could, and when he gave
up it would be because no one else—not even Pa-e-has-ka himself—
could have followed it any farther.

In his trailing, he had much better luck than he had expected.
While he was dodging on along the arroyo he heard the yelp of a
wolf—not of a real wolf, but an imitation by a human being.
He was approaching a bend in the arroyo, and this yelp, which
was clearly a signal, caused him to approach the bend with more
than usual caution.
This was well for him; since presently, from behind a shoulder of
rock, he was able to peer out and see a mounted Apache, waiting
for another who was riding down the arroyo’s bank.
The Indian Cayuse had been following had a bow and quiver slung
at his back. The bow was still bent, showing that the Apache had
not yet taken the time to unstring it. Aside from the bow and
arrows, both Apaches were likewise armed with rifles.
They met in the arroyo’s bottom, exchanged a few words, and
started on again. They looked behind them carefully, but they did
not see Cayuse. At that moment the boy was busily engaged laying
his quartz pieces on the ground, not only showing his course, but
informing any one who might follow that the first Apache had been
joined by another.
The Apaches rode at a leisurely gait on into the gulchlike gash into
which the arroyo presently changed.
At the place where the gulch forked the two halted and one of
them repeated his wolf-yelp.
A little later the rocky walls reechoed with galloping hoofs, and
three more Apaches showed themselves, and joined the other two.
The entire party then turned into the right-hand branch of the
defile.
Cayuse continued to follow, noiselessly, swiftly, screening his
passage with all the cunning of a coyote.
The gloom thickened in the bottom of the gulch. He was glad of it,
for it made his trailing easier.

The Apaches talked and laughed as they journeyed, entirely
oblivious of the fact that a hated Piute was hanging upon their trail.
All might have gone well with the boy had he noticed a figure on
the top of the gulch wall, looking down. It was the figure of a white
man, and the white man had under his eyes both the forms of the
mounted Apaches and the trailing Piute.
The man stared for a space, then drew back.
Little Cayuse wondered why, when the Apaches arrived opposite
the narrow defile that entered the wall of the gulch, they ceased
their talking and laughing and came to an abrupt halt.
Of course he could not hear the low voice of the white man,
calling from within the lateral defile.
One of the Apaches, leaving the rest, spurred into the smaller
gash. And again it was impossible for Cayuse to see that the white
man had appeared and beckoned to the Apache.
“Fools!” said the white man to the Apache, partly in Spanish and
partly with the hand-talk; “don’t you know that you are being trailed
by the little Piute, Buffalo Bill’s pard? He is behind you, in the gulch.
He must be captured, and this is the way you are to do it:
“You will ride back to the rest of the Apaches. Then, taking care
not to turn and look down the gulch, you will all ride into this cut.
When well within the cut, four of you will dismount and hide behind
the boulders; the other one will ride forward, leading the four
horses, and get beyond that turn.
“The Piute will come in. The four who are behind the boulders will
spring out and capture him—capture him, mind, for I want to talk
with the rascally imp before anything else is done with him.”
The white man hid himself, and the Apache rode back.
Little Cayuse, his black eyes glimmering like a snake’s, watched
the Apaches trail into the smaller defile. He made after them.

At the entrance to the defile he listened. From around a turn he
could hear the pattering hoofs of the ponies.
Swiftly he passed into the smaller defile—and then, almost before
he could realize what had happened—he was set upon from every
side, flung down, and bound at the wrists.
He struggled, but what availed the struggles of one Piute boy
against four brawny, full-grown Apaches?
Physically, he was not injured. His chief hurt was to his pride.
What would Pa-e-has-ka say when he learned what had
happened?
Jerking Cayuse to his feet, two of the bucks caught his bound
hands and pulled him farther along the defile to a place where it ran
into a blind wall, rising high into the air.
At this place the white man was waiting.
Who the white man was, Cayuse did not know; but he began to
understand, dimly, that the white man had helped the Apaches
entrap him.
The white man, stepping angrily up to the boy, drew back the flat
of his hand and struck him in the face.
Cayuse reeled with the blow, but not a sound came from his lips.
“You’re Little Cayuse, huh?” demanded the man fiercely.
“Wuh!” answered the boy, his black eyes darting lightning.
“Pard of Buffalo Bill’s?”
Little Cayuse straightened his shoulders and threw back his head
proudly.
“Wuh! Me all same pard Pa-e-has-ka’s.”
“Why were you trailin’ the Apaches?”
Cayuse did not answer. Instead, he looked straight into the eyes of
the white ruffian with studied insolence and defiance.

The white man pulled a revolver from his belt and pressed it
against the boy’s breast.
“Answer, or I’ll blow a hole through ye!” he threatened.
Cayuse did not open his lips. He continued to dare the man with
his eyes, however, even more insolently and defiantly.
“Blast ye!” raged the man, lowering his revolver and giving the
helpless boy a kick that threw him to the ground. “Ye won’t talk,
huh? Waal, ye needn’t! I know Buffalo Bill sent ye to trail the reds,
an’ I reckon Buffalo Bill will be follerin’ ye, afore long, but that won’t
do you any good.”
The ruffian turned and growled an order to the Indians.
Immediately the entire five mounted their horses and began
climbing to the top of the wall of the defile.
Cayuse, breathless from the kick he had received, lay on the
ground and watched.
In a little while he saw the five Indians on the top of the steep
wall which closed in the end of the defile. One of them lowered a
rope.
The ruffian thereupon grabbed Cayuse by the shoulders and
dragged him to the foot of the wall. The next moment he had made
the swinging rope fast to the bonds that secured Cayuse’s wrists.
“Haul away, ’Pachies!” roared the white man, stepping back.
The pull of the rope drew the boy’s arms above his head, and then
he was lifted up and up the sheer cliff wall.
“There!” yelled the white man; “make it fast.”
The rope was secured at the brink of the cliff, and Cayuse,
hanging by his bound hands, was left swinging against the face of
the smooth rock.
Revolver in hand, the ruffian began to fire at the rock, planting his
bullets all about the swinging boy.

“Goin’ ter tell me about Buffalo Bill?” he asked.
Cayuse would not answer.
The white man swore a fierce oath, threw his left arm in front of
his face, and laid the barrel of his six-shooter across.
Just as he was about to shoot, he suddenly changed his mind.
“I won’t do it,” he growled; “that would make it too easy fer you.
Hang there, ye measly Piute! Hang there until yer arms pull out o’
their sockets, and ye starve an’ die. That’ll teach ye to butt inter a
game of Bascomb’s, I reckon. Hi, there, you!” he shouted, lifting his
gaze to the Apaches on top of the cliff. “I’m goin’ to Squaw Rock to
wait for Hendricks, but you’re to go back along the rim of the gulch
and pick off Buffalo Bill and his pards if they come this way follerin’
the Piute. Come ter Squaw Rock an’ report ter me if anythin’
happens. Scatter, now, the five o’ ye, an’ see that ye carry out
orders. If you don’t, look out for Bascomb!”
In addressing the Apaches now the white man was not using
Spanish or the hand-talk; some among them, presumably,
understood English sufficiently to catch his meaning.
Leaping to the back of their ponies, the Indians rode away.
The white man, springing to the path that led to the top of the
wall of the defile, mounted it swiftly.
In a few minutes Little Cayuse’s captors were all gone, and Little
Cayuse was left swinging helplessly against the bare cliff wall.
The pull on his arms was frightful. The rope seemed to be tearing
them out of his body.
But he had said no word about Pa-e-has-ka’s orders, and he was
glad. He had faced death, and was then facing it, because he had
been true to Pa-e-has-ka.
What if the rope did pull at his arms and torture him? Was Little
Cayuse a squaw that he should whimper and cry with the torture?

No; Little Cayuse was a warrior. He had won his eagle-feather, and
was entitled to take the place among the braves of the Piutes.
So he gritted his teeth and hung where the merciless white ruffian
had left him.

CHAPTER XVI.
T H E R E S C U E O F C AY U S E .
This was the scene which had brought the fierce frown to Buffalo
Bill’s brow, and the gasp to Dell’s lips and the white to her check.
Little Cayuse, suspended by the arms against the smooth cliff wall,
swinging and twisting with the rope.
Was he alive?
That was the question the scout asked himself as he ran forward
toward the wall of the blind gully, and it was the question Dell
Dauntless put to herself as she followed.
Cayuse was about ten feet above the ground, his eyes were closed
and his head was drooping forward.
“Cayuse?” cried the scout, halting close and peering up at the
slender form.
Instantly the boy opened his eyes and threw back his head.
“Wuh!” he answered.
“What fiends those Apaches are!” exclaimed Dell. “They drew him
up there and left him to die!”
The scout drew his revolver.
“What are you about to do, Buffalo Bill?” the girl asked.
“I could cut the rope with two or three bullets,” answered the
scout hesitatingly, “or I could ride up on my horse——”
“You couldn’t reach him on your horse, or, at least, you wouldn’t
be able to reach the rope. Put up your revolver, Buffalo Bill, and
leave it to me.”

Dell took a position in front of Cayuse and drew the bowie-knife
that swung at her belt.
“What can you do with that?” asked the scout.
“Cut the rope above Cayuse’s hands.”
The scout started and stared at the girl.
Such a feat, if successfully accomplished, would be one of the
most remarkable he had ever seen.
To throw a knife and keep it perpendicular was comparatively
easy; but, in order to sever the rope, Dell would have to throw the
blade so that its edge would meet the rope horizontally.
“Are you sure you can do it?” went on the scout gravely.
“I would not try if I were not.”
“If you made a miss——”
“I know what would happen if I made a miss, but I shall not.
Stand close enough to catch him when the rope parts, Buffalo Bill.”
Dell Dauntless was perfectly cool. The scout marveled at her self-
control, and her stony calmness.
Without removing her gauntlet, she took the knife in her right
hand by the point; then she measured the distance and the height
with a quick eye.
Once, twice, three times her hand went up in a circle, the pearl
handle of the bowie flashing in the sun.
“Now!” she murmured.
There was a second or two in the preparation for the throw, but
the feat itself consumed less than a second.
“Bravo!” cried Buffalo Bill, as the girl hurled the knife and its edge
bit into the rope above Little Cayuse’s head.
The rope was not cut cleanly through, but the few strands that
were left parted quickly, and Cayuse shot downward into the scout’s

arms.
Carrying the boy to the horses, Buffalo Bill laid him on the ground.
Dell took her canteen from the saddle-horn, sank down beside the
boy, and took his head on her knee.
Her tenderness as she ministered to Cayuse gave the scout a
glimpse of another side of her nature.
“Poor little chap!” she murmured, pressing the canteen to his lips.
“You had a tough time of it, didn’t you?”
The water gurgled down the boy’s throat, and his black eyes
gazed into the blue ones above him, then swerved to the scout.
For a few moments he lay quietly, while the scout removed the
rope from his wrists and the girl removed her gauntlets and chafed
his temples with her soft hands.
“Ugh!” grunted Little Cayuse suddenly. “White squaw got heap
good heart; but Cayuse no squaw, him warrior.”
He sat up on the ground and began working his benumbed arms
back and forth between his knees. In spite of his stoicism, he
winced, and the scout saw that one of his shoulders was dislocated.
“Down on the ground again, Cayuse!” ordered the scout; “on your
left side, boy.”
Cayuse tumbled over obediently, the scout standing astride his
body and firmly gripping his right arm.
“Hold him down, Dell,” went on the scout.
With the girl pushing and the scout pulling, and Cayuse making no
outcry whatever, the shoulder was slipped back into place.
Cayuse crawled to the wall of the defile and sat up with his back
against it. His bare breast jumped with his hard breathing so that his
necklace of bear-claws and elk-teeth fairly rattled, but a ghost of a
smile flickered about his lips.

“Heap hard time,” said he. “Me no care. Umph! Me warrior; Pa-e-
has-ka’s pard.”
“You’re a brave little fellow, that’s what you are!” declared Dell
admiringly.
Cayuse studied her face attentively.
“Who you?” he asked.
“I’m Buffalo Bill’s girl pard,” laughed Dell. “And I’m your pard, too,
Cayuse, if you’ll have me for one.”
“No like um squaw pard. Squaw make um fire, boil um kettle, sew
um beads on moccasins, no go on war-path with braves.”
“I’m different from the ordinary run of squaws, Cayuse,” said Dell,
with a humorous side-glance at the scout.
“You throw um knife heap fine,” observed Cayuse.
“I can shoot as well as I can throw a knife.”
“Umph! You make um squaw your pard, Pa-e-has-ka?”
“Yes,” smiled the scout.
“Squaw your pard, squaw my pard. Shake um hand.”
Cayuse lifted his hand—his left one—and the compact was sealed.
“Now that that formality is over, Cayuse,” said Buffalo Bill, “you
might tell us how you came to be strung up there against the cliff.”
The boy looked distressed.
“Cayuse no good. Make um worst break this grass. Let Apaches
and paleface ketch um.”
“Paleface?”
“Wuh. One paleface, five Apaches. Paleface make um heap swear,
say Cayuse tell um if Pa-e-has-ka sent um. Cayuse no tell um.
Apaches haul Cayuse up with rope. Ugh.”
“Was the paleface Bernritter?”

Cayuse shook his head.
“Was it Bascomb?”
Again Cayuse shook his head.
“There has been underhand work at the mine, Cayuse,” explained
Buffalo Bill. “Bascomb and Bernritter have taken away McGowan’s
daughter, who was coming from ’Frisco, and the arrow that was shot
into camp contained a message. Understand?”
“Me sabe.”
“The message was from Bascomb and Bernritter, and stated that if
McGowan would not agree not to prosecute them for their attempt
to get the mine bullion the other day, and would not leave a bar of
gold at the old shaft near the Black Cañon trail, he would never see
his daughter again.”
The boy fixed his eyes on the scout’s face.
“Apaches and bad white men got heap black hearts,” said he. “You
like ketch um white man that string me up?”
“Yes, if we can. He’s probably in this plot with Bascomb and
Bernritter. If we could capture him we might be able to discover
something of importance.”
“Where Squaw Rock?” asked Cayuse.
“That’s too many for me,” said the scout.
“I know where it is,” spoke up Dell. “It’s about two miles and a
half from here.”
“Paleface go there. Say he meet other paleface name Hendricks at
Squaw Rock. Tell Apaches come Squaw Rock report if they make
trouble for Buffalo Bill. Me hear um say so.”
“Good!” exclaimed the scout. “That gives us something to work
on, Dell, and we won’t have to go back to the camp and wait for
Nomad to carry that agreement and that bar of bullion to the
deserted shaft.”

“Me go too?” asked Little Cayuse.
“We’ll have to take you, Cayuse. I wouldn’t let you try to tramp
back to the mine in your present condition.”
“Ugh, me all right.”
“Most white boys, with a shoulder like yours, would be in bed,
Cayuse.”
“Me use um left hand.”
“All aboard, Dell,” said the scout, getting into his saddle. “If we’re
going to do anything with that ruffian who mistreated Cayuse, we’ll
have to lay him by the heels before the Apaches join him. You lead
the way and set the pace. Cayuse and I will tag along on Bear Paw.”
“It’s a rough road,” said the girl, rising to her own saddle; “by
taking an even rougher one we can lop off that extra half mile.”
“Lop it off,” answered the scout. “I’ll lay a blue stack Bear Paw can
follow wherever Silver Heels can lead.”
“This way, then,” cried the girl.
She spurred straight to the side of the defile and started up the
dizzy path which the Apaches had climbed some time before.
Arizona is full of difficult country for a horseman; but of all the up-
and-down trails the scout ever covered in the saddle, the course Dell
led him on the way to Squaw Rock was one of the worst.
Not once during the entire trip were the horses on a level. When
they were not standing almost straight up in the air, pawing their
way aloft like mountain-goats, they were inclined downward so far
that the stirrups touched their ears, and the riders had to brace back
in them to keep from sliding over their heads.
Such a rough passage was hard on Cayuse’s tender shoulder, but
he would have scorned to make the slightest complaint.
At one place on the devious path there was a cool spring, and
here for a space the riders halted, refreshing themselves and their

sweltering mounts with a drink.
At one place, too, Dell forced Silver Heels to a jump of half a
dozen feet over a crevasse; and at another place she made a leap
downward over a bluff of twelve feet. Bear Paw and his two riders
were always behind, the scout marveling at Dell’s perfect
horsemanship.
The girl, it was plain, was entirely at home in the saddle. Was
there anything, the scout was asking himself, in which Dell Dauntless
did not excel?
Throughout the entire journey it was necessary to keep a keen
lookout for enemies, white and red. None were seen, perhaps
because none would dare this almost impossible trail.
At last, after two hours of sweating labor, Dell pulled Silver Heels
to a halt under the brow of a steep hill.
“Going to rest and breathe the bronks?” asked the scout.
“Nary, pard,” answered Dell, with an easy return to the
colloquialism of the West; “we’re close to the end of our trail, and
that’s why we’re rounded up. Squaw Rock is just over the rise. I
thought perhaps you might like to reconnoiter before we shacked
down on the place.”
“That’s the sensible thing to do, of course. Cayuse will look after
the horses while you and I climb the slope.”
Leaving the boy below with the mounts, the scout and the girl
crawled up the sun-baked rise to the crest, and peered over.
What the scout saw was a circular, cactus-covered plain. In the
midst of the plain arose a boulder about the size of a two-story
house.
But it was not the shape of a two-story house. On the contrary,
from the angle at which the scout and the girl viewed it, the boulder
had the contour of a woman’s head and shoulders, with the
shoulders blanketed.

To all seeming, the rock was the upper part of some gigantic
statue, embedded in the sand from the shoulders down.
In the shadow of the rock stood a horse, head down and listlessly
panting with the heat. Closer to the base of the rock a man half sat
and half reclined. He was smoking a pipe and gazing out across the
plain. Evidently this was the man they wanted, and he was alone.
The scout and the girl slipped downward on the slope for a hurried
consultation.
“The scoundrel is there, all right,” whispered Dell.
“The question now is to capture him,” returned the scout. “He’s on
the east side of the rock, and we’re to the north of it.”
“We could rush him,” suggested Dell, “and have him covered
before he could mount and ride away. Even if he did get on his
horse, we could overhaul him.”
“A better plan, I think,” said the scout, who hesitated to place Dell
in the peril her plan would call for, “would be to take him by
surprise. While he’s mooning down there, and looking across the
desert; I’ll slip down the slope, crawl around the base of the rock,
and have a bead drawn on him before he’ll know there’s any one
else within a mile of him.”
“If he should hear you getting down the slope he might shake a
bullet out of his gun before you had a chance to fire first.”
“He’d have to be quick, if he did. However, you can remain here
and keep him covered.”
“You’re taking all the risk,” demurred the girl.
“It’s right I should.”
Without debating the question further, Buffalo Bill regained the top
of the hill, rolled over, and started downward on hands and knees.
As he crawled, a foot at a time, he kept his eyes on the man at
the foot of the rock.

The fellow seemed completely absorbed in his reflections. He
smoked languidly, like one half asleep.
The scout, remembering the brutal treatment accorded Little
Cayuse—and the boy had not told him the half of it—would have
been only too quick to meet the ruffian in a two-gun game. But he
wanted to make a capture, and try persuasion in an attempt to find
out something about Annie McGowan.
The girl was certainly hidden away somewhere among the hills.
Wherever she was, quite likely Bernritter and Bascomb were, also;
and the scout was not losing sight of the fact that he wanted to get
hands on Bascomb quite as much as he wanted to rescue Miss
McGowan.
Watched by Dell Dauntless, Buffalo Bill succeeded, in due course,
in reaching the base of Squaw Rock without attracting the attention
of the ruffian.
His task now was to follow the base of the rock around until he
came near the spot where the man was sitting. This was almost
directly under the chin of the profile, and the scout had to get
around one of the shoulders.
Drawing his revolver, the scout immediately began his flanking
movement, still on all-fours and pushing the weapon ahead of him.
Just as he was on the point of passing around the edge of the
shoulder, and coming out in plain view of the man, if he happened to
be looking in the right direction, the scout observed peculiar actions
on the part of Dell.
With head and shoulders above the hill-crest, the girl was waving
her hands and pointing westward.
The scout could not understand, and the girl, in her excitement,
had risen so far above the ridge that the ruffian might catch sight of
her at any moment.
As the quickest way to terminate the situation, the scout hurried
on around the rock. Rising to his feet the moment he had the man

squarely in front of him, Buffalo Bill leveled his six-shooter.
“Hands up, you!” he shouted.
The ruffian shot into the air as though propelled by some powerful
spring. His pipe went one way and his hat another. Also, his hand
darted at his hip, but a warning bullet from the scout’s forty-four
buzzed past his ear.
“Hands up, I said!” shouted the scout. “The next bullet I send at
you won’t go so wide.”
The man turned, at that, and lifted his arms.
“Who the blazes are you, anyhow?” he snarled.
“Buffalo Bill is the label I tote. What’s your own mark?”
“Banks.”
“Well, Banks, you’re mine. Come this way till I strip off your guns.”
“What’s the matter with ye?” scowled Banks. “What have I ever
done to you that you make a play like this?”
“Never you mind that for now. I feel hostile enough to put a bullet
into you, right where you stand, on account of the way you treated
my little Piute pard. Are you coming?”
“Your hand has the call,” grunted Banks. “Sure I’m coming.”
He moved toward the scout, but slowly.
“I reckon I’ll have to plant a little lead around your feet so’st to
make ’em more lively,” remarked Buffalo Bill. “Step off, high, wide,
and handsome. Try it, now, before my patience begins to mill. You’re
slower than molasses in zero weather.”
The man increased his pace. When he had come within a couple
of yards of the scout, something happened which the scout had not
been expecting.
“Up with your hands, pilgrim! That’s my pard ye’re a-drawin’ a
bead on.”

This raucous voice came from behind. A thrill ran through the
scout’s nerves as he began to understand what Dell’s dumb-show
meant.
She had been trying to tell him that another of the ruffians was
coming.
The man had come, and was now in the scout’s rear.
Naturally, Buffalo Bill could not look behind him. To have done so
would have been an invitation for the man in front to drop his
hands, pull a revolver, and begin firing.
“That you, Hendricks?” the scout called, without making a move to
lift his hands, and without taking his eyes off the fellow in front of
him.
“Sure it’s me,” came the voice, “big as life an’ twicet as onnery.
Did ye hear me when I told ye to put up yer hands?”
“I heard you,” the scout answered, “and I’m not going to do it.
The click of a trigger in your hands will be my signal to throw lead
into Banks.”
“I ain’t a-goin’ to have no foolin’,” snorted Hendricks. “If you want
to drop yer guns an’ skin out, well an’ good; Banks an’ me won’t
object. You’ll find it a heap healthier, I reckon, than to try to make
front on the pair of us. We ain’t got no crow to pick with you, and
you hadn’t ort to force our hands. Will ye git?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m a-goin’ to count three. By the time I finish the count I’m
a-goin’ to turn loose the fireworks, unless you either git or throw up
yer hands. That’s plain enough, ain’t it?”
“I understand you, but——”
“One!”
There was a tone in the voice behind that plainly meant business.
“Two!”

The scout was just planning to jerk his second revolver from his
belt and whirl about so as to cover both Hendricks and Banks, when
a fourth person took a hand in the odd game.
This was Dell. From the hill-crest she was leveling a revolver at
Hendricks.
“Drop that gun!” she cried; “drop it quick or you’ll hear from me!”
Buffalo Bill could hear Hendricks swearing to himself at this
unexpected summons.

CHAPTER XVII.
B A N K S A N D H E N D R I C K S.
There was something humorous in the situation, now that Dell had
forced herself into the peculiar combination, and held the key to it,
so to speak.
Buffalo Bill had covered Banks, Hendricks had covered Buffalo Bill,
and now Dell was looking at Hendricks over a diamond-sight.
“Who the blazes are ye, up there on the hill?” shouted Hendricks,
seeking to temporize.
“All you need to know is that I’ve got the drop,” cried Dell sharply.
“You heard what I said about dropping that revolver. I’m not going
to repeat the order.”
“Ye’re a woman, by ther sound o’ yer voice,” shouted Hendricks,
who did not dare remove his eyes from the scout, any more than the
scout dared take his from Banks, “an’ I reckon ye daren’t shoot at
——”
The thirty-eight spoke, and the report was followed by a ring of
lead against steel.
Dell’s shot had struck the barrel of Hendricks’ revolver close to the
cylinder, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hand.
A startled yell broke from Hendricks, followed quickly by the cool
voice of the girl:
“Disarm your man, Buffalo Bill; I’ve disarmed Hendricks, and he’s
not able to interfere.”
“Come closer, Banks,” said the scout. “You don’t want to force me
to take your miserable life, do you? This trigger works on a hair.”

Banks stepped up to within arm’s length of the scout. With his left
hand the scout disarmed Banks, then whirled on Hendricks.
Dell Dauntless had descended the hill-slope and was standing
within a dozen feet of Hendricks, her revolver leveled, and a look of
determination in her blue eyes.
“It’s all over but payin’ the bets, ain’t it?” grinned Hendricks sourly.
“When a man dances he has to pay the fiddler,” said Buffalo Bill.
“You and Banks will pay with a few years in the ‘pen.’ Take his guns,
Dell,” he added to the girl.
Dell stepped forward and picked the revolver out of Hendricks’
belt, and took its mate off the ground.
“That was a blame’ purty shot,” remarked Hendricks, referring to
the one that had knocked the revolver out of his hand, “’specially
when ye think as how it was a woman done it.”
“I could have taken your finger along with the revolver, if I had
wanted to,” said Dell.
“’Bliged ter ye fer not doin’ it. I needs the finger.”
Hendricks’ horse stood a few yards around the base of the rock.
“Take both mounts, Dell,” said the scout, “and bring them along
after Banks and Hendricks. Fall in, you fellows,” he added to the
prisoners, “shoulder to shoulder, ahead of me.”
With Buffalo Bill’s guns staring them in the face, the ruffians could
do nothing less than obey; thereupon the scout marched them over
the top of the hill and down on the other side to the place where
Cayuse was waiting with Bear Paw and Silver Heels.
The boy’s eyes gleamed like those of an angry panther as he
looked at Banks.
“Was that the man who had you pulled up at the face of the cliff,
Cayuse?” asked the scout, indicating Banks.
“Wuh!” snarled Cayuse, his hand groping for his knife.

“Leave him alone, boy,” said the scout, in a tone of sharp
command. “The law is going to take care of him.”
“Hendricks, there,” said Dell, “is the man who met Annie McGowan
at the railroad-station in Phœnix.”
“They were both concerned in the abduction,” returned Buffalo
Bill, “and they can both be sent over the road.”
“What ye givin’ us?” scowled Banks. “We ain’t done nothin’ we can
be sent up fer.”
“We have the proof, Banks, and you and Hendricks will go to
Yuma just as surely as the sun rises and sets.” The scout turned to
the Piute. “Go up the hill, Cayuse, and keep watch for Apaches.”
Hendricks watched Cayuse moodily as he climbed the slope.
“What ye goin’ ter do with us, Buffalo Bill?” he asked.
“Take you to Phœnix and turn you over to the sheriff,” said the
scout promptly. “Cover Banks, Dell,” he added, “while I get
Hendricks in shape to travel.”
Dell was loaded down with the four revolvers taken from Banks
and Hendricks. Kneeling in the sand, she laid the extra weapons
beside her, and drew a bead on Banks.
“If Banks makes a move to bolt,” instructed the scout, “shoot him.
Get on your horse, Hendricks,” he went on, to the other man.
“Look here,” demurred Hendricks, “can’t we fix this thing up
somehow?”
“The only way you can fix it up,” snapped the scout, “is by taking
your medicine. Get on your horse, I said!”
Muttering to himself, Hendricks got astride his mount. Taking the
prisoner’s riata off the horn, the scout bound his wrists at the back
and his feet under the saddle-girths.
There were several feet of rope left, and this the scout ran up to
the pommel, where he made a half hitch, then on along the horse’s

neck and through one of the bit-rings. From the bit-ring he led the
rope to his own saddle and made it secure at the horn.
In this manner Hendricks was firmly bound to his horse, and his
horse was firmly secured to Bear Paw.
Banks was treated in identically the same manner.
Now, as a matter of fact, the scout had no intention of taking the
two prisoners to Phœnix. What he wanted from them was
information, and he was willing to give them their liberty if they
would tell him what he wanted to know.
Hendricks and Banks were the kind of men, however, who
understand nothing but the “iron hand.” The scout wanted overtures
to come from them.
“Get into your saddle, Dell,” said the scout, when both horses
ridden by the prisoners had been made fast to Bear Paw. “If we start
now, we ought to be able to reach Phœnix some time before
midnight. The quicker we get these scoundrels behind the bars, the
better.”
So well was the scout playing up his “bluff” that even Dell was
deceived.
“Hadn’t we better wait, Buffalo Bill,” she returned, “until after——”
“We’ll wait for nothing,” he cut in, at the same time telegraphing
her a message with his eyes. “We have a dead open-and-shut on
these two men. Hendricks met Annie McGowan at Phœnix, and
Banks and Hendricks were both mixed up in the theft of the team
and buckboard.”
The girl started toward Silver Heels and the scout placed one foot
in his stirrup.
“Jest a minit, you Buffalo Bill,” said Hendricks. “Don’t go off half
cocked till ye hear what Banks an’ me hev got ter say.”
“You haven’t a thing to say that interests me,” Buffalo Bill
answered. “Get up here, Cayuse,” he called. “Sit on the horse with

your back to mine, so you can watch the prisoners as we ride. Give
him one of those revolvers, Dell. He can shoot with his left hand, if
the prisoners make it necessary.”
While these orders were being carried out, the prisoners, who
were stirrup to stirrup with each other, were exchanging low-spoken
words.
When the cavalcade was ready to start, Cayuse was riding with his
face to the rear, a six-shooter in his left hand, and Dell was behind
the prisoners. Thus watched from front and rear, and bound and
helpless, such a thing as escape was an impossibility.
“I tell ye ter wait,” cried Hendricks, “afore ye go on any further
with this here pufformance. Takin’ us ter the Phœnix calaboose ain’t
goin’ ter help ye none in locatin’ Annie McGowan.”
“We’ll find her,” said the scout confidently, “and we’ll find Bascomb
and Bernritter, too.”
“Ye’ll never find ’em if ye don’t listen ter Banks an’ me.”
“It’s my opinion,” said the scout, “that Banks and you can lie faster
than a dog can trot.”
“We’ll make a deal with ye,” proceeded Hendricks, anxious and
desperate.
“What sort of a deal?” asked the scout casually. “It takes two to
make a bargain.”
“Right ye are, Buffalo Bill. If ye’ll make a bargain with us, we’ll
keep our side of it.”
“What sort of a bargain have you to propose?”
Even yet the scout was not showing much interest, although he
was throbbing with it.
“Well, Bascomb an’ Bernritter ain’t nothin’ ter Banks an’ me,” went
on Hendricks. “They promised us money if we’d help ’em pull off this
here deal; but they said it was a safe deal, an’ that nothin’ would

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