RUNNING THE GANTLET.
“Every man to his post.”
It was the clear and commanding voice of Buffalo Bill that gave the
order. The effect upon the pioneers was electrical, for they felt
that in him they had a leader who fully understood the cunning of the
Indians, and whose bravery was upon every tongue on the frontier.
“Buffalo Bill, you are well accustomed to scenes like this one about to
be forced upon us, and I would like you to take command,” cried Major
Conrad, advancing quickly to the side of the scout.
Buffalo Bill glanced out upon the prairie toward the coming Indians, as
he replied:
“Fortunately the train is in corral, sir, and the men are ready for
a fight. I would advise that the women and children be placed under
cover of the river bank yonder. The ravine will protect the horses and
cattle, while, with the wagons for the breastwork, the men can hold out
splendidly.”
This advice was acted upon, and in a few moments the camp was ready for
action. Stationing himself upon the outer edge of the line of wagons,
Buffalo Bill was seen to suddenly raise his repeating rifle; a quick
aim, a shot, and a painted warrior fell from his horse.
The yell of exultation from the emigrants was answered by a series of
wild war whoops from the infuriated Indians.
“Now, Major Conrad,” said the scout, “you see that I know yonder
renegade guide well, for he is doubtless the leader of the approaching
band of redskins, and was guiding you into a trap.”
“We have much to thank you for, sir,” was the earnest answer; “but the
Indians have halted.”
“Yes, they are too wary to charge these lines in the daytime, and----”
“And what, sir?” asked Major Conrad, as the scout paused thoughtfully.
“And by nightfall I can bring relief, for not many miles from here is a
band of Pawnees hunting buffalo.”
“But, sir, you can never escape from here, for see, the Indians are
beginning to surround us, and two separate parties are swimming the
river.”
The scout took in the scene at once, and then said quietly:
“You must hold the red devils at bay. Mind, act only on the defensive,
and I will run the gantlet of their fire, and bring what relief I can.”
A shrill whistle followed, and Midnight trotted up to his master, and
stood ready for his command. Remonstrance with the scout was useless;
and after another warning to all, he sprang into the saddle and rode
down to the river.
A word of encouragement to Midnight, and the noble animal bounded into
the clear waters, and was soon swimming bravely toward the other shore,
followed by the eyes of all the emigrants, who were wafting Godspeed to
the daring man periling his life to aid them.
Before half the river was crossed the Indians discovered the scout, and
with discordant yells the two parties, one up and the other down the
stream, rushed to cut him off.
The scout observed their intention, but kept bravely on, urging his
horse to swim still faster. Leading one of these parties who were
rushing toward the point where the scout was to land, was the traitor
guide, Red Dick, who now seemed to feel assured that his revenge would
be satiated, for he urged his large roan forward at a tremendous pace,
quickly shooting ahead of the inferior horses ridden by the redskins.
Soon the scout reached the other shore and dismounted, while the horse
shook himself like a huge Newfoundland dog. Then the girths were
tightened, and the holster pistols returned to their places; after
which the scout mounted as coolly as though almost certain death did
not stare him in the face.
The deadly rifle was raised, and with a quick aim was fired in the
direction of the band farthest off. A red brave threw up his arms and
fell from his horse, to be trampled upon by those behind.
Again the rifle rang out, and the large roan ridden by Red Dick was
seen to stagger, stumble, and then go heavily down, hurling his giant
rider with terrible force upon the ground.
From the lips of Buffalo Bill there came then a war whoop of defiance,
and away bounded Midnight, keeping an equal distance between the two
lines rushing furiously upon him and hardly more than two hundred yards
distant.
“On, Midnight, for you have a brave duty to perform,” cried Buffalo
Bill, as he turned in his saddle and glanced back toward the camp.
Seeing the action, the pioneers gave him three hearty cheers, which
the Indians answered with their discordant yells.
“But, what is the daring rider going to do? Has his courage failed him?
Is he mad?”
Such were the hurried questions that burst from the lips of the
astonished emigrants, as they saw Buffalo Bill suddenly come to a halt,
and coolly gaze first upon one side and then upon the other.
The Indians also saw him halt, and their superstitious minds were
impressed with the idea that he was laughing at their efforts to take
him, and intended to escape by some supernatural means unknown to them,
for, often before had they known him to elude them when in their very
grasp.
With their leader dismounted, and apparently hurt, for Red Dick was
seated beside his dead horse, the Indians hardly knew what to do, and,
as they drew nearer and nearer to the mysterious scout, they gradually
checked the speed of their horses, until the smaller party, consisting
of a dozen braves, came to a halt, and with wondering eyes and wild
gestures, seemed to be holding a council of war.
This was what Buffalo Bill had expected. As soon as the squadron
halted, he wheeled Midnight, and, with the air ringing and echoing
with his terrible war cries, and a revolver in each hand, he charged
directly upon the astonished savages.
Then he added to their consternation by opening a brisk and telling
fire upon them. It proved fatal in several instances. The frightened
braves turned and fled, and, with the speed of an arrow, the scout
rushed on toward the open prairie, having safely run the terrible
gantlet.
Then, as the emigrants looked with eager eyes, they beheld the cause of
the sudden movement of Buffalo Bill, for directly in his former path
arose the forms of a dozen painted warriors, doubtless of the same
band, who were hiding in a shallow gulch and would have sprung up in
the pathway of the scout, had not his quick eye detected the plumed
head of some brave too eager to catch his prey to keep wholly concealed.
The watching emigrants saw with pleasure that the Indians quickly gave
up the chase, for the famous steed of the scout left them rapidly
behind.
In an hour Midnight appeared as a mere speck upon the prairie.