PEARL’S WARNING.
For some moments after the departure of her father and White Slayer,
Pearl stood in silent meditation, as though undecided what course to
pursue. At length her mind seemed made up, and she started down the
glen.
But she had not taken a second step before she came to a sudden halt,
for not twenty paces from her she beheld a man who had stepped from
behind a large bowlder and advanced toward her.
At first Pearl seemed about to run, but checking this determination,
she stood on the defensive, with her rifle half raised to her shoulder.
“I am a friend, miss, and the captain sent me back to give this to your
father.”
The man halted near her and held out his hand as if to give her
something. He was a burly-looking fellow, clad half in buckskin, half
in homespun, and was heavily armed with revolvers and knife. His face
was wholly corrupt; in it there was not one redeeming expression. Pearl
did not like his looks, and said suspiciously:
“What captain do you refer to?”
“Kansas King. I am his lieutenant, and am called Burke, miss.”
“Bad Burke, is it not?” said Pearl quietly.
“Well, my enemies do call me Bad Burke, miss, but it is because I am
a bad hand with the knife, and no man dare meet me with it; but my
friends don’t call me Bad Burke.”
“Your friends? Why, I should not think a man like you had a single
friend,” Pearl declared boldly.
The face of Bad Burke turned livid with rage. His iron muscles seemed
to swell up with suppressed emotion, while his evil eyes glittered like
a snake’s. But, controlling himself, he forced a laugh, and answered:
“Yes, miss, even a poor devil like me has friends; but here is the
paper the captain sent to your father.”
He again held forth his hand. Pearl reached forth to take what she
believed to be a small scrap of paper. Her hand was seized in the iron
grip of Bad Burke, who instantly drew her toward him.
Before she could offer the slightest resistance or cry out, his hard
palm was over her mouth, and she was held as firmly as though in a
vise. But suddenly she saw a dark object descending from a ledge of
rock fifteen feet above her.
This dark object struck the burly ruffian fairly on the shoulders
and knocked him to the ground. The dark object that had descended so
suddenly from the rock, and lighted upon the back of Bad Burke, was a
man--one who did not lose his equilibrium by his jump, but caught on
his feet, and stood ready, with drawn knife and pistol, to face the
outlaw lieutenant.
When released from the grasp of the ruffian, Pearl sprang backward, and
again seized her rifle, which she turned upon the outlaw lieutenant.
“Hold! Do not shoot him. Let him come on and face me with his knife,
for he boasted a moment since that no man dare face him.”
“In Satan’s name, who are you?” cried Bad Burke, his hand upon his
knife hilt.
“Buffalo Bill!”
It was evident that Bad Burke had heard the name before, for his hand
quickly slipped from his knife hilt toward a pistol butt.
“Just move one inch, aye, crook your finger, and I’ll send your soul to
perdition.”
The pistol of Buffalo Bill covered the heart of the outlaw, who whined
out:
“Pard, you’ve the advantage of a fellow and ought to let up a little.”
“I will; miss, will you be kind enough to remove the pistols from that
villain’s belt?”
Pearl instantly stepped forward and did as directed, making a motion
with the weapons as if about to murder the frightened lieutenant of
bandits.
“Thank you; now, Bad Burke, we stand on an equal footing,” and Buffalo
Bill cast his pistols upon the ground.
With a suppressed yell of rage Bad Burke rushed upon his cool enemy,
for now he believed he had it all his own way, as his boast was not an
idle one regarding his prowess with a knife.
Calmly the scout met his attack. The blades clashed together with an
ominous ring. Notwithstanding his skill and strength, Bad Burke was
hurled backward, and seized in the powerful grip of the scout, whose
keen knife gleamed in the sunlight, and then, with a crunching thud,
was driven to the hilt in the outlaw’s heart. A stifled groan, and Bad
Burke’s cruel life had ended.
With bated breath Pearl had stood and watched the deadly encounter
between Buffalo Bill and Bad Burke. Notwithstanding her apparent
fear, the outlaw had been in double danger, for, had there been the
slightest sign that victory would fall to him, the girl had her rifle
ready to do its deadly work.
“You are from one of the camps of the white men?” she asked.
“Yes,” the scout answered.
“I was on my way to find them. Your life and the lives of your friends
are in danger,” simply replied the girl.
“My life is ever in danger. You were going to warn us of danger, you
say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did you expect to find us?” the scout inquired.
“At the miners’ stronghold, far down the glen.”
“It is miles away, and your feet would have tired with their long walk.”
“I am accustomed to long walks over the hills, sir.”
“Are you not afraid of danger meeting you?” the scout questioned.
“No, sir; I have little fear.”
“Yet just now you were powerless in the hands of a ruffian.”
“Very true. I thank you for saving me from him.”
She looked at the dead outlaw with a shudder.
“You are a brave girl and deserve a different fate from lingering here
in these hills, and living the life of a hermitess.”
“Oh, I would so love to go away,” she declared. “But, sir, you must not
stay here, for any moment some warriors may pass, and your life would
certainly be the forfeit.
“I was going to warn you of danger, because I did not wish to see you
and your paleface friends massacred, and now I have double cause for
saving you.”
Her expressive face showed that she was very much in earnest.
“Oh, sir, fly from these hills, you and your friends, for even now the
Sioux are assembling all their braves to attack you, and he that is
called Kansas King will side with the Indians in the war against you.”
“From my heart I thank you,” said the scout. “But I know all that you
would tell me. Not ten minutes ago I was on that ledge and saw and
heard all that passed between your father, the White Slayer, and Kansas
King.”
The girl was very much surprised, but answered:
“I am glad you heard it; but you will leave these hills?”
“No; we will show Kansas King and his Indian allies that we will not be
driven from the Black Hills by fear of them,” and Buffalo Bill spoke
with bitter determination.
“Oh, what a terrible slaughter will follow!” she exclaimed. “How I wish
I could aid you, sir.”
“You can. You can aid me.”
“And how? Tell me, and I will do all in my power,” said Pearl earnestly.
“To-morrow is the meeting between Kansas King and your father. Yonder
ledge is a secret spot where you can hide, and you can reach it from
the hill above. I want to know the plans to be arranged between your
father and the outlaw chief, and to-morrow night, just after sunset, I
will meet you here.”
“I understand, sir, and I will do as you wish me to; but, tell me,
please, are you Buffalo Bill, the scout?”
“I am so called, but why do you ask?”
“Because I have so often heard the Sioux warriors speak of you, and how
terrible you were in battle; numbers have gone forth upon your trail,
boasting they would return with your scalp, and though many warriors
have gone, you still wear your scalp lock, and many of those braves
have not returned.”
“Perhaps they are looking for me in the happy hunting grounds,” said
Buffalo Bill. “Now I must be off; and remember--to-morrow night I will
meet you; but, tell me, can I not cross this hill and strike the valley
beyond?”
“Yes, sir; but, oh! Do not go through that valley,” implored Pearl,
with earnest manner.
“And why, child? Are the redskins numerous there?”
“Oh, no, sir; an Indian would not enter that valley for a girdle of
scalp locks, and even my father dare not go there.”
“Why? Is it such a terrible place?”
The girl glanced cautiously around her, slightly shuddered, then in a
whisper replied:
“A spirit haunts the valley, sir.”
“A spirit? Nonsense!”
“No, sir! Oh, no; it is the spirit of a woman dressed in white; she
haunts it day and night, and when the moon is bright she sings wild
songs----”
“Go on with your story,” he urged; “tell me all you know about the
haunted valley.”
“What shall I tell you, sir?” innocently asked Pearl.
“When was this spirit first seen?”
“Five years ago, ever since the paleface’s grave was in the valley, the
spirit has been seen at times; but no warrior dare go near the valley,
and those who were bold enough to go where the specter dwells have
never returned.”
“Do you know anything about the grave in the valley?”
“No, sir; the Indians say a man was slain there by the spirit, for the
grave lies just at the entrance of the haunted valley; but my father
thinks that two paleface hunters came into the hills after gold, and
one killed the other and buried him there.”
“I thank you, Pearl, for the warning you have given me about the
haunted valley; but I am going to the Ramsey settlement, and it will
save me many a mile to go through the glen, and I will risk seeing the
spirit. Remember, to-morrow night I will meet you, and you had better
not mention that you know anything of the death of Bad Burke here.”
“No, sir, I will not speak of it,” she promised; “but please do not go
through the haunted valley.”
“Have no fear; good-by!”
So saying, the scout turned and walked to his horse, which was hidden
not far away, and then rode down the glen, while Pearl, delighted at
having warned him of danger, yet dreading to have him risk his life
in the spirit valley, walked with rapid steps back to her cabin,
determined to discover the plans of her wicked father to bring ruin and
death upon the palefaces who had invaded the Black Hills.