Buffalo Bill and Red Cloud lived together, by the side of the stream, for several days. The border king constructed a hut of wattled branches, in which he put the Indian. There he tended him until his injuries were healed.  
It was some time, however, before he was able to totter out into the sunlight again.
 
At nighttime the king of the scouts kept guard over his friend until long after dawn, for he knew that in his weak state the Navaho would easily fall a prey to any prowling animal or marauding enemy.
 
The scout took his rest during the day, lying by the side of his patient, who could wake him at the least sign of danger.
 
He was sleeping thus one afternoon, when he was awakened by his shoulder being violently shaken. He opened his eyes and reached for his gun in a moment.
 
Red Cloud, who was evidently in a state of great excitement, although he repressed outward signs of it with Indian stoicism, pointed to an arrow that was still quivering in the wall of their little shelter above his head.
 
“The Cave Dwellers! The Cave Dwellers!” he cried, and he pointed toward a clump of trees about fifty yards from their hut.
 
Glancing thither, Buffalo Bill saw two squat, deformed, misshapen creatures who looked more like big apes than men. They were almost black in color, and their arms and legs were bowed like those of a gorilla. As he watched them they danced to and fro and gave vent to several hideous yells, making the most hideous grimaces at the same time.
 
Buffalo Bill had heard of these strange creatures before, but he had never imagined they could look so demoniac and inhuman. After a few seconds one of the savages leaped forward, fitted an arrow to the bow which he carried in his left hand, and was about to pull the string.
 
Before he could do so Buffalo Bill drew a quick bead on him and shot him dead.
 
The other Indian gave a wail of dismay, looked at his slain companion for a moment in a dazed way, and then promptly took to his heels and fled through the trees. The border king did not attempt to pursue him, for he thought it possible that some other of his comrades might be lurking about, and it would therefore be dangerous to leave his patient.
 
“It was a lucky shot, brother,” said Red Cloud. “The arrows of the Cave Dwellers are almost always poisoned, and the slightest scratch with one of them is likely to kill a man. If the first arrow they fired had struck me, I should now be roaming the happy hunting grounds of the Great Manitou.”
 
“Who are they, and why did they attack us?” asked Buffalo Bill, after he had satisfied himself that the savage he had shot was really dead.
 
“They are the Cave Dwellers,” replied the Indian, “and they attacked us because they have a mortal feud with my tribe, and especially with myself. It is a long story, brother, but it were well that you should know it.”
 
“Let me get rid of the body first,” remarked Buffalo Bill. “If I leave it here, the coyotes and buzzards will come around pretty soon and trouble us. See! they are beginning to circle already.”
 
 
He pointed overhead, where several vultures were circling in whirls that approached constantly nearer to the ground.
 
With his strong, broad-bladed bowie knife, the scout hollowed out a grave a few feet deep in the loose, sandy earth, and placed the body of the dead savage in it. Over the shoveled-in earth he rolled a number of heavy stones, so that the coyotes would be unable to dig up the body.
 
Having thus given his slain enemy decent sepulture, the border king returned to the hut and prepared a meal for himself and his patient. As they sat smoking their pipes, after they had finished the repast, he asked Red Cloud for the story of his feud with the Cave Dwellers.
 
Red Cloud thought a moment, and then began:
 
“They are the old people, these Cave Dwellers—the oldest people in all this country. They are older than the Moquis, or the Piutes, or the Navahos, or the Apaches. They were here from the beginning of time, but when the other tribes came into the country they were driven to take refuge in great caves far up on the sides of the mountains, where hardly a goat can climb.
 
“There has always been enmity between them and the other tribes, and though they often dwell for long months up in their caves and do not trouble us, yet the hatchet is never buried. These Cave Dwellers are more like beasts than men, and they are fond of eating the flesh of their enemies, when they can capture them and carry them up the secret paths that lead to their caves.
 
“But it is not alone in the caves of the mountains that they live. They have also subterranean caverns running far into the bowels of the earth, and they also dwell in tents on the plains at some seasons of the[54] year, when they come out of their caves to hunt and steal the cattle and ponies of the other tribes.”
 
“And how did you manage to incur their special enmity, Red Cloud?” asked Buffalo Bill.
 
“Three years ago, my tribe dwelt peacefully in our country, under the strong and good rule of our great chief, Spotted Snake. The neighboring tribes feared and respected us, and we had beaten the Cave Dwellers into submission. We had buried the hatchet with the white man, and we were left alone in our hunting grounds without interference. It was a happy time for the tribe.
 
“But Spotted Snake died, and his son, Scared Coyote, was a weakling. He ruled over the tribe like a woman, scarcely ever leaving his wigwam, and never risking his skin in the perils of the chase.
 
“Gradually the tribes which his father had kept so well in check began to encroach upon our territory, and the Cave Dwellers especially caused us great trouble, stealing our ponies and raiding our crops. Scared Coyote never resented this insult, for his heart was as weak as water within him.
 
“Our main camp was pitched at that time by the side of the Giant Spring.
 
“Does my brother know it? It is a spring that bubbles up from the earth and makes a big pond, coming from a subterranean river that flows many miles under the ground of the open prairie.”
 
“Yes, I have seen it,” answered Buffalo Bill.
 
“Then my brother will be able to understand my story. In those days I was just beginning to win my name as a scout and brave among my tribe, and I was always eager to do some great deed.
 
“My arm was big with muscle and sinew, and I could shoot an arrow farther than most of the braves; but I was yet counted as a boy by many of them.
 
 
“I learned one day that the Cave Dwellers had ridden into our country and established a camp there in great numbers. I crawled to the place by night and listened secretly as they talked around their fire. I learned that they were preparing a great surprise for us. Our tents were to be surrounded by them, and the Navahos would be destroyed forever, so that they could enter into possession of our hunting grounds and no longer be obliged to live in their desolate caves.
 
“I hastened back to camp with this startling intelligence, and asked to see Scared Coyote, who, as usual, was in his wigwam with his squaws.
 
“‘Tell the dog of a boy,’ was his message in reply, ‘that the chief will see him to-morrow, because he is too busy now mixing his paints with which he adorns himself.’
 
“I told the messenger that my mission was most important, and that the fate of the tribe depended on my seeing him.
 
“I waited over an hour for the reply to the second message, and then Scared Coyote—who was jealous of the prowess I had gained in hunting—sent out another messenger to say that he was a man who did not change his mind. He had said that he would not see me until to-morrow, and therefore he would not see me, whatever I might have to say. With the pride of an ignorant, foolish youth, he added that the word of a great chief was not lightly given and could not be lightly taken back.
 
“‘Tell Scared Coyote,’ I said, with my heart hot with anger within me, ‘that his word is the word of an infant in swathing clothes. Even a chicken just hatched by his mother hen would have the sense to flee from danger, but he will stay here and die. Then let him die!’
 
“I turned on my heel and walked to the tents of[56] the other braves, on whom I knew I could depend, and whom I knew were disgusted, like myself, with their young chief.
 
“I told them what I had learned, and we held a war council.
 
“We decided that we would shift our tents secretly in the night and leave Scared Coyote alone while he was asleep. Everybody heartily detested him, and therefore the plan was agreed to by all. We threatened to throw the squaws into the Giant Spring if they told the chief of our plans. We resolved to wait our chance of raiding the Cave Dwellers at a convenient season, for they greatly outnumbered us, many of our tribe being away on a distant hunting expedition.
 
“We struck our tents silently at the dead of night. The stamping of the horses was muffled by tying their feet in the long prairie grass. Any other Indian would have heard us, none the less; but Scared Coyote did not sleep with one eye open, like the rest of his people. He slept the heavy sleep of a prairie dog in his burrow.
 
“As we rode away over the prairie, and looked back to see the chief’s tent standing alone, we laughed at the thought of how surprised he would be when the sun arose and sh............