THE BATTLE WITH THE BROTHERHOOD.
Dashing rapidly on, under the guidance of the scout, the squadron of
cavalry, after a ride of ten miles, struck the trail where Ricardo and
his men had turned back in their chase after the fugitives.
After carefully examining the traces, Buffalo Bill reported the outlaws
about thirty strong. With a cheer the troopers dashed on, until the
scout suddenly drew rein where a large trail was visible.
“Here is another trail of fully a hundred horsemen, and they have
followed on after Ricardo,” he announced. “Ah! I have it, they are the
band of Dog Soldier Sioux under the desperate Red Dick. General, can I
offer some advice?”
“Assuredly, Cody. Our success in this affair depends upon you.”
“Well, sir, I would say dispatch half a dozen men at once to the fort
for another squadron of horse, so that we can be able to manage both of
these bands, and follow Ricardo to his retreat.”
“Good!” said the general, “we’ll make a ten-strike of him this time,
and it will be a feather in our cap to rid the country of such a
desperate renegade. Lieutenant Ainslie, take four men with you, return
to the fort, and tell Captain Kassidy to come on at utmost speed with
his company, and see also that you bring fresh horses and rations.”
Away darted the lieutenant, while a halt was called, and the horses
were allowed to rest. But Buffalo Bill determined to push on at once
alone and reconnoiter; so, telling the general he would return if he
discovered the exact whereabouts of the enemy, he rode away, and soon
disappeared behind a roll in the prairie.
For a few miles the scout continued on, Midnight keeping up a sweeping
and untiring gallop; then he suddenly drew rein, for the distant crack
of a rifle broke on his ear. Cautiously advancing, Buffalo Bill soon
reached a roll of the prairie higher than the ordinary. Knowing that
he could obtain an extensive view from its summit, he dismounted, and,
leaving Midnight to await him, he advanced until he could see for miles
before him.
Then, quite to his surprise, he beheld a small timber island, and
around it, just out of rifle range, fully two hundred Indians.
Taking a small field glass from his pocket, he soon discovered that the
timber hid a number of horsemen, who had taken refuge from their Indian
foes.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, as he turned his glass upon the Indian besieging
party. “Aha! Ricardo; you are in a trap, and Red Dick holds the winning
hand. Well, so much the better for the troops. Ah! Ricardo, your days
are numbered now.”
After a long examination of the motte and the surrounding band, the
scout returned to his horse, mounted and rode rapidly back, arriving at
the cavalry encampment just as Captain Kassidy and Lieutenant Ainslie
arrived with about sixty more men.
Reporting his discovery to the general, Buffalo Bill continued:
“And now, sir, I think as soon as the horses are a little rested we had
better push on. You have a hundred fighting men now, and we can defeat
the two forces combined.”
“You do not think the two men, now enemies, will join against us, do
you, Cody?”
“I do, general; the necks of both men are in the hangman’s noose, and,
knowing that they cannot singly meet your force, they will join their
thieving bands and make common war upon us.”
“Well, we’ll give them a supper of cold lead and steel by dark. Come,
gentlemen, we must be on the move.”
On swept the cavalcade over the prairie, and when the sun was low in
the horizon, they came up to the higher roll of the prairie, where a
short halt was ordered.
“They are at it hot and fast,” said the scout, as the sound of rapid
firing reached their ears.
“Now, general, let me suggest that you divide the troops into three
parties, you leading the center with about forty men, Captain la Clyde
taking the right with about twenty-five men, Captain Kassidy the left
with a like number, and at about a mile distant from Captain la Clyde.
“With your permission, I will then take the remaining half dozen
troopers and the three hunters, and, making a circuit of four miles,
will come out upon the prairie at a point far to your right, and at
once advance toward the motte. When the Indians catch sight of me they
will at once send out a large force to fight me, and then you had
better charge with your three squadrons.”
“That is splendidly planned, Cody; you should have entered the army!”
cried the general.
He at once gave the necessary orders, and in ten minutes more, with the
roll of the prairie still hiding them, the four parties were taking up
their respective positions.
From their points of view the officers saw Buffalo Bill emerge upon
the prairie. At once his presence created an excitement in the Indian
besieging ranks.
Then there broke forth across the prairie the wild and thrilling war
cry of the scout, and over the roll of land, from three different
points, bounded the cavalry squadrons, their cheers striking terror to
the dusky besiegers of the motte.
Instantly there was a cessation of hostilities between the Indians and
the Branded Brotherhood.
Out from the motte bounded the iron-gray of the outlaw chief, his
master upon his back. Waving a white handkerchief, the outlaw
approached a central point, whence another horseman emerged to meet him.
The two met upon the plain. The parley between them was excited and
brief. Then Ricardo returned to his motte, while Red Dick went back to
his Indians, who at once broke in wild confusion and made for the motte.
“It is as I thought; they have joined forces,” cried the scout.
Raising his voice to its highest pitch, he sent it across the prairie
in one of his terrible war cries.
“Ride, men ride! Press them into their den! Press them home and the
game is ours!”
A cheer answered the scout’s words, and driving their spurs into their
horses, the troopers bounded on in hot pursuit, closing up upon their
foes in deadly earnest.
At length the band of Indians, under Red Dick, reached the motte, and,
rallying around the nearest trees, turned to fire upon the advancing
cavalry, the stern voice of Ricardo giving forth his orders in a cool
and decided manner.
But the scout gave them no time to form a solid line, for, ahead of the
other three squadrons, he dashed on with his little band right into the
timber, and instantly a hot firing was heard.
Almost immediately after, the squadron of Percy la Clyde struck the
timber, then followed the general and Captain Kassidy, with their
troopers.
Attacked thus from four points, and without time to rally, the Indians
broke and fled, in spite of the cries of Red Dick and Ricardo, who were
determined to sell their lives dearly.
Through the motte like a fiery torrent swept the scout and his band,
crushing down many an Indian brave and driving a mass of Indians
pell-mell before their impetuous advance.
Then Buffalo Bill rode straight for the spot where Ricardo coolly sat
his horse, Red Dick, Long Dave, and Red Roark upon either hand, and his
disciplined outlaws around him, determined to do or die.
“Here, accursed hound, you are my game,” yelled the scout, firing his
revolvers right and left, and dropping a foe at every shot, as he urged
his horse on toward Ricardo.
But, though the Indians had broken upon every hand, and were flying
madly through the timber, shot and cut ruthlessly down by the charging
troopers, the band of the Branded Brotherhood still stood as firm as a
rock, and met the attack with iron nerve.
Suddenly a tall trooper fell from his horse by the side of Buffalo
Bill. Instantly his saber was seized by the scout, who, with a series
of wild war cries, still pressed on toward Ricardo.
But before he reached the chief, Red Dick spurred forward to meet him,
crying in his hoarse tones:
“Now, you cursed scout, your time has come.”
“You are mistaken, Red Dick!” the scout shouted, and with one mighty
sweep of his saber he cut down the burly ruffian.
Quickly supporting the band of the scout came Percy la Clyde and his
troopers, and the moment after up dashed General Canton and half a
dozen men, he having dispatched the remainder of his squadron, under
Lieutenant Ainslie and Captain Kassidy and his dragoons, in pursuit of
the flying Indians.
The reënforcements thus received by Buffalo Bill caused the Branded
Brotherhood to be outnumbered, and slowly they began to give ground.
Buffalo Bill bounded forward once more, and, his saber having been
broken by coming in contact with the rifle of Long Dave, he drew his
keen knife and rode on until he faced Ricardo.
“Now, Captain Carter, it is your life or mine!”
“In Satan’s name, who are you that knows me?” cried the outlaw chief,
his face turning ghastly pale, as he reined back his iron-gray mare
upon her haunches.
“I’ve known you for some time,” the scout shouted. “You are the fiend I
crossed knives with once on the Rio Grande.”
An incredible fear seemed to fall on Ricardo, his knife fell from his
nerveless hand, and his horse would have bounded away had not Buffalo
Bill seized the bridle and hurled the animal back.
Then Ricardo’s revolver flashed its fire. He saw he had missed the
scout, and the weapon went up for another shot.
But Buffalo Bill, leaning over, gripped him by the throat and knocked
the weapon aside.
“Here, La Clyde, this fellow shall not cheat the gallows,” he cried,
and two troopers instantly seized the ruffian, while the remainder of
the outlaws broke in wild confusion and darted away to seek safety in
flight.
Even as Buffalo Bill did this a bullet fired by one of the men struck
the outlaw, and he fell as if dying.
The outlaws were fleeing, avenging foes were upon their track, but
before darkness settled upon the scene many had fallen beneath the
pistols and sabers of the troopers.
At length night came on, and the sounds of suffering were heard in the
motte, for around a large camp fire the troopers had placed the wounded.
At another fire near by stood General Canton and his officers,
discussing the battle, and wondering at the absence of Buffalo Bill,
who, when last seen, was in hot pursuit of the flying renegades.
The night crept on, midnight rolled around, and yet the scout had not
returned, and anxious fears filled the hearts of all for his safety.