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Updated: June 5, 2025
The redskins came from every direction, and, within half an hour from the time Sut Simpson was lassoed, there must have been nearly a hundred Apaches gathered around him. These all continued their frantic rejoicings, while, as before, the prisoner remained silent.
His eyes were wandering over the company in search of Lone Wolf, their great leader; but that redoubtable chieftain was nowhere to be seen. Sut was certain that he was somewhere near at hand, and must know of all that had happened on this spot. Did Simpson expect anything like mercy from the Apaches? Not a whit of it.
The speed soon brought the horseman within hail. As he neared the Rio Pecos Valley, he rose in his stirrups, and swung his hat in an excited manner. At that moment Fred recognized him as Sut Simpson, the scout, whose voice rang out as startling and clear as that of a stentor. "The Apaches are coming! The Apaches are coming! Lone Wolf will be down on yer quicker'n lightnin'!"
This silence makes it primâ facie probable that he lived either before or after Pan Ch'ao's career. But this unfortunately proves nothing except that Kanishka cannot have been very late. The work is not a scripture for whose recognition some lapse of time must be postulated. But he also states that it was after the Council that Mahayanist texts began to appear. Sut. Majj.
From the back of the steed where he was held a captive he gained an indistinct view of the short, savage struggle between Lone Wolf and Sut Simpson, and more than once he concluded that it was all over with the daring hunter, who had ventured out with the purpose of befriending him.
But Sut knew what it meant. They meant to steal away until they were out of sight, when they would come around behind him. There were enough to surround him completely and to cut off his escape in any direction. Sut saw all this and was not surprised thereat. He believed that he was too old a bird to be caught with such chaff.
This, as a matter of course, was based upon the idea that Sut Simpson, the veteran scout, had committed a serious error in believing that the pursuit would be slow. And such a mistake he had indeed made, as the lad discovered in due time. The afternoon wore slowly away, and sunset was close at hand, when Fred was lying upon his face, peering over the upper edge of a rock at the plateau below.
Yet not one of these was visible, with the exception, perhaps, of Lone Wolf, whose scratches from Sut Simpson's bullets were of a superficial nature. The only explanation of the absence of these parties was that they had gone home.
"But Sut Simpson don't give up the job just yet," said he, the next morning, in discussing the situation with Barnwell and the leading pioneers. "That younker has got himself in a scrape, through no fault of his own, and onless he gets a lift there's no show for his pullin' out of it." "Mickey O'Rooney is still absent, and he may be able to help you." But Sut shook his head.
"I'm Sut Simpson, the man that has slain so many Apache warriors that he cannot number them," said the scout, with a view of helping the Indian to recognize him. There was no real braggadocio about this. As Sut could not hide his personality, the best plan for him was to make an open avowal, backed up by a rather high-sounding vaunt.
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