A DASH FOR FREEDOM.
Considering the circumstances, Buffalo Bill’s manœuvre was audacious
in the extreme. Overawing the barons and treating them in such
a high-handed manner, right on their own ground, was a reckless
proceeding. It needed a man of resource and determination like the
scout to carry it through to a success.
Buffalo Bill, however, although he had acted on the spur of the
moment, was not blind to the dangers that surrounded him. He was
lightning quick in probing chances and forecasting probabilities.
There were two things he wanted to do. One was to snatch Perry out of
that camp of enemies; and the other was to discover what had become
of Perry’s daughter.
Moving quickly to the door, Buffalo Bill looked over the surroundings
of the cabin. The four cowboys were still smoking and talking under
the trees. In the other direction, cowboys were catching up horses
out of the corral, saddling and riding away to their places on the
range.
No one outside the cabin seemed to know or care what was happening to
the cattle barons.
Mightily relieved, the scout whirled away from the open door. As he
did so, there was a crash that shook the cabin floor. The two barons,
in their struggles to free their feet of the encircling noose, had
toppled over and fallen.
Secured to each other as they were, they were in a sorry plight.
Buffalo Bill hurried to them and adjusted their arms so that they
would be more comfortable.
“Stop your struggling,” said he, “and you’ll be a whole lot better
off.”
“What do you mean by making an attack on me, right on my own ground?”
asked Phelps.
“That’s where we begin to talk business, Phelps,” said the scout.
“The prisoner you have in this room is Dick Perry?”
“Yes, that’s my name,” spoke up the prisoner.
In some manner Perry had freed himself of his gag and was able to
talk.
Keeping a wary eye on the barons, Buffalo Bill backed over to Perry
and pulled the stick from under his knees. Perry at once arose to his
feet and slipped his hands out of the coils at his wrists.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude for this,” said he; “a debt that I----”
“Never mind that now, Perry,” interrupted the scout. “We’re not out
of the woods yet by a long shot. Is your daughter here, at Phelps’
ranch?”
A wild look crossed Perry’s face.
“My daughter?” he returned. “Good heavens! You don’t mean to say that
she--that these scoundrels have----”
“You’re in the dark, I see, Perry,” cut in the scout, “so the chances
are that your daughter isn’t here. She was taken away from the ranch
some time last night.”
Perry grabbed up a chair and started toward the two men on the floor.
The scout caught him by the shoulders.
“Careful!” he warned. “A move like that won’t help us any. Don’t lose
heart--we’ll find the girl.”
The scout went back to the cattle barons.
“Watch the lay of the land outside, Perry,” said the scout. “If you
see any one coming this way, let me know at once.”
Perry put down the chair and cautiously took up a position by the
open door.
“You’ve got the bulge on us, Buffalo Bill,” said Benner. “Take these
confounded manacles off our hands.”
“They belong to you,” returned the scout, “and I reckon I’ll let
you keep them. Those are the handcuffs that the clerk of the hotel
said he had put in your saddlebags. The clerk put them in the wrong
saddlebags, that’s all. Why did you want two pairs?”
“That’s our business,” snapped Phelps. “You’re playing a mighty
reckless game, Buffalo Bill, and you’ve about one chance in a
thousand to win out. You may be able to get away from this ranch, but
the Brazos country isn’t big enough to hide you from the men Benner
and I will put on your trail.”
“I’ll take care of that part of it. You fellows would have more
success in your deviltry if you’d quit passing notes back and forth
and hiding them in your watch cases.”
Both barons swore.
“Confound it, Phelps,” gurgled Benner, “that was your fault.”
“Oh, yes,” snorted Phelps, “whenever you make a misplay it’s my
fault! When I gave you that information I couldn’t talk it, so I had
to write.”
“And I wasn’t able to read it then, and so I had to put it in my
watch and read it later. But you could have waited. We’d have had
plenty of chance to talk privately before we left Hackamore. That’s
where you was lame. You didn’t wait.”
“And where was you lame?” taunted Phelps. “Making that bet to throw
watches. Why didn’t you think of what was in that watch of yours,
hey? You----”
“That’s enough,” interrupted the scout. “Save your bickering until
Perry and I get away. Benner, what have you done with Hattie Perry?”
“I don’t know anything about Hattie Perry,” answered Benner sulkily.
“Yes, you do. You’re talking crooked, when you say that; I can see it
in your face. Where is the girl? If you know when you’re well off,
you’ll tell me, and not make any bones about it.”
“Who’re you, anyhow?” flashed Benner. “You may amount to something in
your own neck of the woods, but you don’t cut much of a caper here on
the Brazos. This is our ground, this is! When Perry sees his daughter
next, she’ll be Mrs. Benner.”
Fortunately, Perry didn’t hear Benner’s remark.
“You’ll have another guess coming about that,” said the scout.
“You’re about as contemptible a cur, Lige Benner, as a man could find
in a month’s travel. You two men have a chance, here and now, to
do the right thing and square yourselves. Tell me where Miss Perry
is, and agree to return all the Star-A cattle you’ve rustled and
leave Perry and Dunbar alone in future, and we’ll call this account
settled. It will be mighty small payment for you scoundrels to make.
Hang out against my proposition, and I’ll camp down on the Brazos
until I’ve run you men to cover.”
“That’s big talk,” taunted Phelps.
“The way I’ve handled you this morning is a sample of the way I and
my pards do things. If you want any more samples, you’ll find us
ready to produce. What have you to say?”
“Be hanged to you,” snarled Benner. “You’re a long ways from being
out of this yet. You----”
“Buffalo Bill!” called Perry from the door.
As the scout looked, Perry motioned frantically; and the scout ran to
the door, the two cattle barons began to yell for help.
“That settles it,” muttered the scout; “it’s neck or nothing with us,
Perry. That’s my horse--the black at the end of the hitching-pole.
You annex the one hitched alongside. Sharp’s the word!”
Together they sprang through the door. Cowboys seemed to be coming
from every direction, on foot and on horseback. The four who had been
smoking under the tree were the ones who had caused Perry’s alarm.
They had started toward the house in a body. Whether they were merely
curious, or whether they had heard something which had aroused their
suspicions, the scout never knew. Be that as it might, when the scout
and Perry leaped through the door, the four men were almost upon them.
“Stop those fellows!” yelled Benner from inside the house.
There was small need of any urging on the part of the cattle barons.
Benner’s cowboys, seeing Perry free and hurrying away with the man
who had recently arrived on the black horse, suspected at once that a
rescue had been effected.
The four cowboys hurled themselves at the scout and Perry. Benner’s
men met with a surprise that literally carried two of them off their
feet--a right-hander from the scout did the trick for one, and a
straight-out blow by Perry dropped the other.
The remaining two made an attempt to snatch their guns from their
belts. The fugitives, however, took advantage of the attempt to use
their fists again. The last pair were bowled over, and the scout and
Perry jumped for their horses.
To tear the animals free of the hitching-pole required only a moment,
but every moment was precious. The gathering minions of the barons
were almost in front of the log house as the escaping men jumped to
their saddles.
“Follow me, Perry!” shouted the scout, laying a course up the slope
in the direction of the place where he had left his friends.
Wild Bill, Nomad, and Dunbar could be seen descending the slope,
their horses at top speed, to cover their pard’s retreat with Perry.
Revolvers began to crack spitefully and leaden bees hissed through
the air. The excitement of the moment, and the receding targets,
caused every bullet to go wild.
The fusillade was returned from up the slope, and the mounted cowboys
who had taken up the pursuit, drew wary rein to make out the number
and disposition of the enemies up the “rise.” And while they were
hesitating and making their calculations, Buffalo Bill and Perry were
pounding along and making good in their dash for freedom.
“Whoop-ya!” roared old Nomad, while the scout and Perry drew closer
up the slope, “le’s tear through ther tin-horn camp, pards, an’ raise
Cain with a big ‘K!’ Le’s cut loose an’ show ’em our own partic’ler
brand o’ destruction! Le’s give ’em er taste o’----”
“Head the other way, quick!” shouted the scout, as he and Perry came
thundering up. “Heels are trumps, pards, and see how quick you can
play ’em.”
Nomad yielded. When the scout ordered a move contrary to Nomad’s
desires, he always yielded.
In a galloping crowd, Dunbar, Wild Bill, Nomad, the scout and Perry
swept over the top of the “rise” and into the scrub. Here they were
joined by Jordan and Little Cayuse, and they skimmed the earth like a
flock of low-flying birds.
There was no time for talk, no time for anything but an occasional
look behind and a frantic urging of the horses.
Eight, nine, ten--a dozen mounted men flickered over the crest of the
slope and settled themselves for what they evidently thought was to
be a long chase.
“Twelve up!” shouted the Laramie man.
“Not so many, oh, not so many!” roared the old trapper. “We’re six!
What’s two ter one? Waugh! Give ther word, Buffler, an’ we’ll turn on
’em.”
But the scout did not give the word. There might be no more than
twelve in sight, but under the “rise” were enough cowboys to
literally overwhelm the scout’s small party.
On went the race. Perry and Dunbar led the fugitives down into the
timber, and there, where the scrub was thickest, there followed an
exciting game of hare and hounds.
Knowing the country well, Perry and Dunbar were able to take
advantage of every friendly swale and shallow seam in the river
bottom. In brushy coverts the fugitives waited for the dozen cowboys
to rush past, then they doubled back, crossed the river, followed up
the opposite bank, recrossed and paused for breath in a coulee.
“Sufferin’ reptyles!” mourned old Nomad, slapping Hide-rack’s sweaty
neck, “thet’s new bizness fer We, Us an’ Comp’ny, dodgin’ trouble
thet-a-way. I hope I’ll forgive myself some time fer doin’ et.”
“You’d have had to forgive yourself for not doing it, Nick,” returned
the scout, dismounting to loosen his saddle cinches, “if we’d taken
any other course. How many cowboys has Phelps got in his outfit,
Perry?”
“He can muster thirty men, I guess, without much trouble,” answered
Perry.
“All of that,” seconded Dunbar.
“It is well we took to our heels, friends,” spoke up the sky pilot.
“If any blood had been shed, it would have been a blot on our
consciences.”
“Ef we took on er few blots,” said Nomad, “I reckon we’d crimp them
barons an’ save future trouble fer Perry.”
Cayuse, thoughtful as ever, had left Navi in the bottom of the coulee
and crept up the bank to watch for enemies. Lying on the slope, only
his head and the upright eagle plume in his scalplock showed over the
crest.
All had dismounted and loosened cinches in order to give their
panting horses more freedom in using their lungs.
“Dick,” said the sky pilot, reaching out his hand to the harassed
rancher, “I’m sorry you are having this trouble, but I always feared
it would come to something like this.”
“There was nothing I could do to help it, parson,” answered Perry,
“short of leaving the country. I couldn’t do that, with all I’ve got
in the world tied up at the Star-A.”
“It is my hope, my prayer, that you will be tided over your
difficulties. If that can be accomplished, these good friends will
see to it, I’m sure.”
“I’m obliged to Buffalo Bill and his pards. How they came to be mixed
up in my troubles is more than I know. I want to know all about it,
but first, tell me about Hattie. How do you know she has been taken
away by Lige Benner? When did it happen?”
“Last night, Dick,” answered Dunbar heavily.
“Where were you yesterday, Nate?”
“Captured by some of Benner’s men while I was out looking for strays,
turned over to Red Steve, then found and released by Buffalo Bill.
That was in the first half of the night. The scout and I rode to the
ranch and found everything in the living room in disorder--and Hattie
gone.”
A groan was wrenched from Perry’s lips.
“Has it come to this,” he cried, “that these scoundrels must make war
on women?”
His tortured soul found vent in language that shocked the minister’s
ears.
“Peace, friend,” said Jordan. “You have much to be thankful for. You
are not yourself. Try to be composed.”
“How did you fall into the hands of Phelps?” asked the scout, more to
get the rancher’s mind to running in another channel than anything
else.
“I went looking for Nate,” was the answer, “and some of Phelps’ men
roped me in the timber. The noose dropped before I could avoid it,
and I was jerked from the back of my horse. They took me to the H-P
ranch yesterday noon, and Phelps went to Hackamore to see Benner,
report, and get him to send after me. Benner rode over this morning
with an escort of cowboys. The plan was to take me to Benner’s ranch,
but Phelps and Benner got to drinking and, before we started, Buffalo
Bill came.”
Perry turned on the scout, his eyes wide with wonder.
“Buffalo Bill,” said he, “if any one had told me that it was possible
for a man to do what you did at Phelps’ this morning I would not have
believed it. In all my life I never saw such a nervy piece of work.”
Old Nomad began to chuckle.
“It won’t be long, amigos,” he remarked, “afore these hyar cattle
barons o’ ther Brazos’ll begin ter git acquainted with Buffler Bill.
None o’ Buffler’s pards stack up ter his level, but, ef I do say et,
I reckon we reach purty middlin’ high.”
“What did you do, pard?” asked Wild Bill.
“I corrected the mistake which the clerk at the hotel made last
evening,” laughed the scout.
“Meaning which?”
“Why, I gave Benner the handcuffs.”
“With his revolver,” put in Perry, “he forced the two cattle barons
to stand back to back, and then he handcuffed their wrists together.
He finished the work by putting the noose of a riata around their
feet. And that’s the way we left them!”
“I came away,” added Buffalo Bill, “and forgot to leave the key to
the bracelets, so----”
Old Nomad was a minute or two grasping the situation the scout had
caused in Phelps’ cabin. Just at this point it broke over him, and
he leaned against Hide-rack and bellowed with mirth.
“Say,” he sputtered, “this hyar reminds me some o’ ther way Buffler
went inter the Sioux kentry an’ took ole Lightnin’-thet-strikes right
out from ther middle o’ his band. Waugh! Er-waugh! An’ our pard left
them fellers back ter back, handcuffed ter each other, an’ with their
men thicker eround ’em than what fleas is in ole Siskiyou county! I’d
like ter lay off fer a hull day an’ enjoy thinkin’ erbout thet. I
would so!”
“That was just my kind of a play,” commented Wild Bill regretfully.
“Wish I could have been in on it myself.”
“Let me know, Buffalo Bill,” requested Perry, “how you knew I was at
the H-P ranch? Phelps was trying to keep that quiet.”
The scout explained in a few words.
“Certainly,” murmured Perry, “I ought to be thankful that I have
friends like you and your pards to lend me a helping hand at this
critical time. Every man on the Brazos seems to have been against
Dunbar and me!”
“Not every man, Dick,” protested Jordan. “Only Benner and Phelps
are really against you. The rest of the cattlemen are so completely
dominated by Benner and Phelps that they don’t dare take sides with
you openly.”
“We know the stake Benner is playing for,” said Wild Bill, “but what
does Phelps hope to make out of this rascally work?”
“For one thing,” replied Perry, “Phelps wants the Star-A range. He
tried to buy out the man who sold to me. Maybe it would have been
better if I had gone elsewhere for a location and let Phelps have the
Star-A range. We can never tell about these things until it’s too
late.”
“Then, too,” spoke up Jordan, “Phelps is a bosom friend of Benner’s.
That’s the principal reason, I suppose, why he’s taking a part in
this rascally work. But prosperity is back of it all--too much
prosperity for men who do not understand how to make the best use of
their wealth.”
“Isn’t there something we can do for Hattie?” asked Perry
tremulously. “Must we stay cooped up in this coulee, guarding against
an attack from the H-P outfit, while my girl is in the hands of that
scoundrel, Benner?”
“We’re going to do something for Miss Perry, amigo,” returned the
scout, “and we’ll start the ball to rolling just as soon as we can
decide what’s to be done. If your daughter had been at the H-P ranch,
you’d have discovered it, I think. And I don’t believe Benner would
have her taken to his place. Is there any one else besides Red Steve
on whom Benner could depend for help in dealing with Miss Perry?”
“There’s Fritz Dinkelmann,” suggested Dunbar. “That Dutchman and his
wife owe Benner money, and while I think Fritz is as honest as the
usual run of men, still, being in debt head over ears to Benner he
might be forced to----”
“Dinkelmann, Dinkelmann!” muttered Wild Bill. “Say, Nick, wasn’t that
the Dutchman our Dutch pard went to see? Wasn’t it Dinkelmann who----”
A call came from Cayuse. As he shouted, he beckoned those below
to come up the slope and see with their own eyes something he had
discovered.
What the pards saw, peering over the crest of the coulee bank, sent
the hot blood pounding through their veins.
“It’s the baron--our Dutch pard!” shouted Wild Bill; “the fellow we
were just talking about, Perry!”
“There’s a woman with him,” faltered Perry; “can it be--on my soul, I
think it is----”
“Yes,” breathed Dunbar hoarsely, “it’s Hattie, Dick! I can see her
plain. An’ behind the two are a score or two of cowboys from Benner’s
ranch, and from the H-P outfit. They outnumber us, but we’ve got to
do something! We can’t stand here like this.”
Dunbar whirled around and rushed stumbling down the slope toward the
horses.
“How Benner and Phelps ever got out of those come-alongs so quick is
more than I know,” muttered the scout, “but they’re leading those
cowboys in the pursuit of the baron and the girl. Spurs and quirts,
pards! We’re company front with one of the hardest jobs we ever
tackled, but, as Dunbar says, we’ve got to make a move.”
No second urging was needed. Every one followed Dunbar down the
slope, cinches were swiftly tightened, and the whole party mounted
and rode away to the help of the baron and the girl.