IN TROUBLED WATERS.
The dawn gave way to morning, and the sun rose while the baron and
the girl were pushing on toward the Star-A ranch. The girl piloted
their course, and lost a good deal of time giving a ranch, whose
buildings stood on a tongue of land half encircled by the river, a
wide berth.
“For vy you do dot?” asked the baron.
He had not, up to that moment, asked the girl any questions about
herself. Fully two hours had passed since they had left the
Dinkelmann cabin, and not half a dozen words had been exchanged
between him and the girl.
“A man lives there who is an enemy of my father’s,” the girl
answered. “He is a cattle baron, and his name is Phelps.”
“I peen some parons meinseluf,” said the Dutchman, “aber I don’d got
some cattle. Iss he a pad feller, dis cattle paron?”
“Yes; fully as unscrupulous as that other cattle baron whose name is
Benner.”
“Vat a lod oof cattle parons, und all pad eggs. Vell, vell, nefer
mindt. Vere vas you ven der Dinkelmanns gaptured you, Miss Berry?”
“It wasn’t the Dinkelmanns who captured me, but some of Benner’s
cowboys.”
“Ach, aber I vish I hat peen aroundt dot time! Vere dit it habben?”
“At the ranch. Nate had gone away early to look for some stray
cattle. He didn’t come back when he said he would, and father went to
hunt him up. Father didn’t come back either, and I was in the house
reading when--when--when Benner’s cowboys came. I fought to get away
from them, but there were two of them, and what could I do? They took
me to Fritz Dinkelmann’s, and I was told that Benner was coming to
see me this morning. Oh, but I am glad you came to my aid, Mr. von
Schnitzenhauser!”
“So am I glad,” said the baron, “more glad as I can tell. Vy ditn’t
you dry und knock der poards off from der insite, huh?”
“I did try--but I had only my hands.”
She lifted her hands to show him how they had been bruised and
scratched.
“Ach, sure,” said the baron, “you couldn’t haf got oudt oof dot blace
mitoudt an axe, same as vat I hat.”
“When I heard you come to the house last night,” the girl went on,
“I made up my mind to see if you would befriend me. I was lucky
in happening to have that bit of lead pencil in my pocket, and
the handkerchief served very well for something to write on. I
waited until I knew Mrs. Dinkelmann was in the kitchen, and then I
tapped on the door to attract your attention, and began pushing the
handkerchief through. I can’t begin to tell you how glad I was when I
heard you rap on the boards at the window, but you were a long time
getting me out.”
“Id vasn’t safe to dry it sooner,” explained the baron, keeping quiet
about the way he went to sleep; “der olt laty vas on guard mit der
bistol. Ach, vat a big bistol id vas! Und I bed you id shoots like
anyding.”
“Well,” sighed the girl, “I am safely away from the house, and I
shall soon be at home now.”
“You bed someding for nodding aboudt dot. Aber tell me vonce: Iss dot
Dinkelmann a pad feller?”
“No, I don’t think he is, baron. He owes Benner money, though, and
Benner forces Dinkelmann to do things that are not right. Dinkelmann
is more to be pitied than condemned. He----”
The girl broke off suddenly, and a startled look crossed her face.
Halting her horse, she bent her head in a listening attitude.
“Vat id iss?” queried the baron.
“Can’t you hear it?” whispered the girl, a catch in her voice.
“Shooting!”
Yes, the baron heard the reports. They came from the direction of the
Brazos, and he and the girl were traveling toward the stream.
“Let’s not go any farther this way,” cried the girl.
“Who you t’ink iss making dot noise?” asked the baron.
“I don’t know,” she answered tremblingly, “but it must be some of
Phelps’ men or some of Benner’s.”
“It dakes two tifferent kinds oof men for dot pitzness, Miss Berry.
Vone kindt does der shooding, und der odder kindt iss shod ad. Vich
is vich?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” returned Hattie, “but I mustn’t fall into the
hands of those cowboys again! I would rather die than have that
happen.”
“Id von’t habben,” said the baron valiantly. “Schust make your
trusting py me. I vill safe you, Miss Berry, yah, so helup me!”
For nearly an hour longer they continued to ride across the open
plain. Hattie would not consent to turn in the direction of the
river, so they took a course that paralleled the stream.
They had a rough awakening from their fancied security. Shouts were
suddenly heard behind. They looked around to see a large party of
horsemen bearing down on them at full gallop.
The girl suddenly showed a spirit that aroused the baron’s
admiration. Now, when her fortunes were at the lowest ebb, all her
fears seemed to drop from her. Her face became set and resolute, her
eyes flashed, and she goaded her horse to the best speed.
The baron’s mule, although a scrawny-looking brute, had both speed
and bottom. Horse and mule, responding to the urging of their riders,
flung onward neck and neck.
“How many are there in that party, baron?” asked the girl.
“More as I like to see,” said the baron. “I should say dere iss
t’irty or fordy. Dere iss a greaser und a feller in plack clothes at
der head oof der gang. Who vas dose din horns?”
“The man in the Mexican clothes is Phelps,” replied the girl, “and
the other man is--Benner!” The last word came with bitter emphasis.
“If they capture us, baron, I wish you would shoot that man in black.”
“Anyt’ing to oblige a laty,” returned the baron promptly, “aber I
pedder do dot pefore ve ged gaptured, nicht wahr? Meppyso I don’d ged
no chance afder dot, or----”
The baron, at that moment, received the start of his life. He gulped
on his words, and nearly dropped from his saddle.
“Look vonce!” he gasped. “See who iss dot, Miss Berry!”
The baron pointed across the level to a spot where one horseman after
another was swinging over the crest of a coulee--appearing as if by
magic out of the earth, and pointing straight for the baron and the
girl.
“Vone iss--meppy I vas treaming--vone iss Puffalo Pill,” mumbled the
baron; “und anodder iss Vild Pill, und dere iss olt Nomat, und Leedle
Cayuse, und some odder fellers vat I don’d know.”
“The other two,” cried the girl joyfully, “are my father and Nate.”
“From vere dit dose fellers come?”
“I don’t know, baron, but--but it is a blessing for us. And there’s
the sky pilot,” went on the girl, still feasting her eyes on the
approaching horsemen.
“Dot gifs us enough men to make a pooty fighdt, aber dose odder
fellers haf seferal times as many as vat ve got.”
The scout, and those from the coulee, were not long in coming to the
side of the baron and the girl. There were many things the baron and
the girl wanted to know from the scout and those with him, and many
things Buffalo Bill and his companions were eager to hear from the
Dutchman and Hattie, but the course of events offered no opportunity
for talk.
“They’re gaining on us, pard!” shouted Wild Bill.
“I reckon nothin’ kin stave off a fight now,” yelled old Nomad.
“No bloodshed, I beg of you!” implored the sky pilot. “Let me try my
hand as peacemaker, friends! My profession earns me that right.”
Suddenly an idea flashed through the scout’s mind. Forcing his horse
alongside the sky pilot’s roan, he leaned from the saddle to shout:
“You can act as peacemaker, parson, but it must be in my way!”
“Any way, Buffalo Bill,” cried the sky pilot, “just so it really
brings peace without the spilling of blood.”
“Dunbar,” roared the scout, “ride alongside Miss Perry.”
The other horsemen shifted their positions so that this manœuvre
could be accomplished.
“You, Jordan,” went on the scout, “ride up behind Miss Perry and
Dunbar. Get as close to them as you can.”
Every one in that party was a trained horseman. The reins were
handled in masterly fashion, and the racing steeds weaved slowly into
positions as ordered by the king of scouts.
“The rest of you,” thundered Buffalo Bill, “spread out so that Lige
Benner and Hank Phelps can see what Miss Perry, Dunbar and the parson
are doing.”
No one, as yet, had any idea what Buffalo Bill had at the back of his
head.
“What’s ther game, Buffler?” demanded Nomad, swerving Hiderack toward
the side.
“The ombrays behind are getting ready to use their guns!” warned Wild
Bill.
“Never mind their guns--yet,” answered the scout.
“What am I to do?” called the sky pilot.
The scout, pointing to Dunbar and Hattie with his quirt as Bear Paw
slashed along, yelled at the top of his voice:
“_Marry them!_”
For an instant a dead silence fell over the group of racing
fugitives; then, as the wonderful timeliness of the scout’s plan grew
clear in the minds of the rest of the party, a cheer broke from the
pards.
“Well thought of!” cried the sky pilot.
The book he had used, on the afternoon of the preceding day in
Hackamore, came from his pocket; then, with the horses at break-neck
pace, and Benner and Phelps close enough to see and understand what
was going on, the sky pilot united Nate Dunbar and Hattie Perry in
the holy bonds of wedlock.
There have been weddings in balloons, in the Mammoth Cave, on
mountain heights and in the depths of mines, but where and when had a
young couple ever joined hands for a journey through life as Nate and
Hattie joined hands now?
With the final words, “I pronounce you man and wife,” Buffalo Bill
ordered a halt.
“A hollow square, pards,” he cried, “with Mrs. Dunbar in the centre!
We will face these cattle barons now and see if Lige Benner will
listen to reason.”
Swiftly the horses were reined to a panting halt, and as swiftly the
scout and his pards, Dunbar, Perry and Jordan took their places in a
circle--all facing outward, the girl in the centre and each man with
his weapons in hand--each man with the exception of the sky pilot.
Thus they waited for Benner and Phelps and their cowboys to reach
them.
The approaching horsemen came furiously. There were fully twoscore.
With skilled hands they manœuvred their horses into a “surround,” and
the little circle formed by the scout and his friends formed a living
and determined barrier between Hattie Dunbar and the barons.
Benner brought his horse nose to nose with Bear Paw.
“You,” yelped Benner in wild fury, shaking his fist at the scout,
“are the cause of all this! You and your infernal pards!”
“Look out, you whelp!” cried Wild Bill, “or that black you’re wearing
will be for yourself.”
“Quiet, Hickok!” cried the scout; “I’ll do my own talking. Lige
Benner,” he went on, to the cattleman, “you have kept this range
stirred up quite long enough. You have done about as you pleased,
regardless of the law. There is nothing further, now, to keep you at
loggerheads with the Perrys. Miss Perry has just become Mrs. Dunbar!”
“Be hanged to you!” yelped Benner. “The sky pilot has made her Mrs.
Dunbar, but any man with a gun can make her a widow.”
At that, both Dunbar and Perry nearly precipitated hostilities by
making a start at Benner. The cowboys half drew their guns. A sharp
word from the scout, however, backed by a shrill command from Hattie,
caused Perry and Dunbar to resume their places in the cordon.
“Let me speak,” said the sky pilot, lifting his hand. “Men, men,” he
begged, “think of what you have been doing! There are many of you
cowboys to whom I have preached; you who have heard me before, listen
to me now. Boys, who is Lige Benner that you should cast away your
manhood and sink yourselves to his level in carrying out his wicked
and lawless schemes? You know what is right! You know what is fair
play! Has Dick Perry received just treatment? Has he been dealt with
on the square? Answer me that! I have friends among you; to those
friends I would say, is your job with Benner worth the price he
compels you to pay for it? Is----”
“Another word out of you,” howled Benner, revolver in his hand, “and,
parson though you are, I’ll shoot you out of your saddle. I’ll not
sit here and let you try to turn my men against me!”
“And neither will you shoot me, Lige Benner,” answered the sky pilot,
folding his arms, “for saying what you know to be the truth. You are
a coward! Any man who would act as you have acted, is a coward.”
Benner made movements with his revolver hand which the scout did not
like.
“Put up that gun, Benner!” said the scout.
“I’m my own boss,” roared Benner, “and I’ll not put it up till I get
ready. I’d as soon send a bullet through you as through the meddling
sky pilot.”
The scout spurred forward, straight toward Benner. For an instant
it seemed as though the cattle baron would shoot, but he caught the
scout’s eye and his hand grew paralyzed.
The scout, drawing rein at Benner’s saddle stirrup, twisted the
revolver out of his hand and flung it to one of Benner’s cowboys.
“Keep that for him,” said he. “Benner may be a big man on the Brazos,
but he’s not big enough to buck the United States Government. Now
listen, every one of you men. I’ve something to say that’s of vital
importance to all of you.
“The lawless doings on the Brazos have been heard of far beyond the
confines of Texas. It was to investigate them that I came here.
Chance, luck, what you will, threw me right into the thick of plot
and counterplot before I had reached the town of Hackamore.
“Do you, Benner, or you, Phelps, want a company of regulars marching
down the Brazos? Do you want your ranch buildings burned, your cattle
scattered? Do you want to be run to cover and made to answer for your
criminal deeds? If you do, make just one more move in this campaign
of lawlessness. You seem to have all the legal machinery of this
county under your thumbs, but I reckon you understand that fighting
the United States Government is a different proposition.
“What do you fellows want, peace or war? I am here to give you
either. All you have to do is to make a choice.
“If you’re for peace, there are conditions. Perry must be left alone.
Any further persecution of him will be a signal for that company of
regulars. The Star-A cattle that have been rustled and driven off
must be returned. Those are the terms for peace.
“If you don’t want peace, then I give you my word that you, Benner,
and you, Phelps, will see the inside of a federal prison, and that
all your wealth won’t keep you out. That’s about all I’ve got to say.
Think it over. I and my pards are going to the Star-A ranch with
Perry, and Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar and the sky pilot. Try to interfere
with us at your own peril.”
The scout, with a final look straight into Benner’s eyes, rode away.
“Break away, there on the north!” Buffalo Bill cried to the cowboys
who fenced in that part of the circle.
The cowboys cleared the way in a hurry.
“Move on, friends!” cried the scout. “Take your time, there’s nothing
to fear.”
Perry and the sky pilot, side by side, led the way out of the circle
of cattlemen. Behind them rode Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar. Then came
the baron and Cayuse, Wild Bill and Nomad, and, at the end of the
procession, Buffalo Bill.
“Gentlemen,” laughed the scout, “I bid you good day. Go home and do a
little reflecting, all of you. You have plenty to think about, I take
it.”
Benner snarled and showed his teeth like an angry catamount. But the
fight had all gone out of Phelps. He was very much depressed.
Slowly the scout’s party rode off across the plain in the direction
of the Brazos. For a long time the cattle barons and their cowboys
kept their horses at a standstill, gazing after the scout. The only
man in the vanishing party who loomed ominous in their eyes was
Buffalo Bill. That day, if never before, the prince of plainsmen had
made his power felt.
He, an agent of the government! Sent there to investigate the
lawlessness on the Brazos! And neither Benner nor Phelps had ever
dreamed of such a thing. They had showed their hands, hiding nothing,
daring the scout and defying him. And now they knew that he had been
sent there to take the measure of their culpability.
“I reckon I’ve had enough of this Perry business,” said Phelps. “You
got me into it, Benner, confound you! And what have you gained? Why,
you’ve even lost the girl.”
“I’m not done yet,” scowled Benner.
“You take my advice and throw up your hands.”
“Not till I’m even with Perry and Buffalo Bill,” was the snarling
response.
“Count me out of your schemes, then, from now on. I tell you I’ve had
enough.”
“Be hanged to you for a coward!” cried Benner. “Come on, you boys
that go with me.”
The Benner forces separated from the Phelps outfit, each detachment
of cowboys going their different ways.
“That fool’s going to get himself into more trouble, Mac,” remarked
Phelps to McDermott, one of his foremen.
“That’s nothing to you, Hank,” replied the foreman.
“Nothing to me, no. I’ve come out of this business a heap better than
I deserve. And I reckon I know how to let well enough alone.”