THE MAN WITH A WARNING.
Nothing could have been more peaceful, that bright, sunny morning,
than the surroundings of the Star-A ranch.
Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill sat out under the trees, a dozen yards
from the ranch-house door. They were smoking their pipes and
contemplating, with much satisfaction, the happy and peaceful scene
before them.
“By gorry, pard,” said the Laramie man, “just hear the girl in that
old log shack tune up that pretty bazoo of hers. Every once in a
while she breaks into song. Joyful? Well, I reckon!”
“Contrast this scene with another of two days ago,” returned Buffalo
Bill. “The cattle barons, headed by Lige Benner and Hank Phelps, were
doing their best to run Perry out of the Brazos country. Dunbar had
been treacherously waylaid and was being held a captive; Perry had
been made a prisoner and was in ropes at the H-P ranch; and the girl
had been spirited away by Lige Benner, who hoped to break her will
and make her agree to become his wife. Then we came, Hickok--you, and
I, and the rest of our pards--and shook up the whole bag of tricks.
Dunbar and Perry were released, and the marriage knot was tied by the
sky pilot, while the lot of us were racing away from Benner, Phelps
and forty of their cowboys. What we did was certainly worth while.”
“I’ve never helped to do anything, pard,” returned Wild Bill, “that
I look back on with so much satisfaction.”
“Nor I. We have cause to congratulate ourselves.”
At that moment Nate Dunbar rode up to the cabin door on his favorite
riding horse. He was prepared for a journey of some length, it seemed.
Dropping down from the saddle, he turned to throw his arms about his
wife, who had hurried through the door to bid him good-by.
The pards turned their heads. When they looked up again, Nate
Dunbar’s horse was in front of them, and the fine-looking young
cowboy, his face wreathed in smiles, was on the ground and reaching
out his hand.
“I’m off for town, amigos,” said he, “and I may be gone for two days.
There are supplies to be bought, cowboys to be hired, and plenty of
other business to be looked after. Dick thinks I’m the one to go. It
was hard for Hattie to agree, but she always comes to time when she
understands a thing is for the best.”
As the scout got up and wrung his hand, Dunbar bent forward to
whisper:
“And there’s the wedding present for Hattie, you know. I didn’t have
time to attend to that yesterday, when we were spliced on horseback,
at twenty miles an hour! But now,” and he withdrew his hand to slap
a jingling pocket, “I’ve both the time and the money, and Hattie’s
going to have a ring with a hundred-dollar ‘spark’ in it. Oh, I’m
sure one happy man, pards, and we all know we have Buffalo Bill and
his friends to thank for it!”
“It has been pleasure enough for me and my pards to get you out of
your tangle here, Nate,” said the scout.
“Which is no dream at all, Dunbar,” laughed Wild Bill. “When Pard
Cody puts up a talk like that, he reflects the feelings of all his
pards. May your shadow never grow less, amigo mio, and may you never
say a word that clouds the bright face of the girl in yonder cabin.
She’s the biggest prize that will ever come to you in this life.”
“Truer words were never spoken!” declared Dunbar, flashing an
affectionate glance at the cabin. “I’m hoping, Buffalo Bill, that
you and your pards will stay here till I get back. I feel positive
all our troubles are behind us, but my mind will be easier about the
Star-A ranch if I know that you are here until I get back with an
outfit of cowboys.”
“Don’t worry, Nate,” said the scout reassuringly. “We’ll have
to stay. The baron, old Nomad and Little Cayuse have gone to
Dinkelmann’s ranch for a day or two, so Hickok and I will have to
stay here till they come back.”
“Gracias!” Deep feeling throbbed in Nate Dunbar’s voice as he added:
“No man ever had better friends than Buffalo Bill and pards, and
neither Hattie, nor Dick, nor I will ever forget what we owe you. I’d
crawl the length of the Lone Star State to do any of you a good turn.
Adios!”
Nate Dunbar jumped for his saddle, his spurs rattled, and he vanished
along the trail through the timber, laying a course for Hackamore.
“That lad’s the clear quill, Pard Cody,” declared Hickok, gazing
after Dunbar and wagging his head. “He’ll go far and do well, mark
what I say. But he seems to think that he’s not through with the
hostile cattle barons.”
“I don’t think he has any cause to be worried,” said the scout.
“Hank Phelps, if what I hear is true, has thrown up his hands and
will have nothing more to do with the lawless element on the Brazos.
Lige Benner is the only source of possible trouble; but, with public
opinion setting in strong for the Perrys, I don’t believe Benner will
dare let his animosity show itself. He----”
The scout halted abruptly. Through the timber behind him and the
Laramie man came a rider at speed, his horse lathered and blowing.
The man in the saddle was long and lean; his thin, hatchet-like face
was full of excitement. As he threw himself from his horse, the
animal staggered drunkenly with feet wide apart.
“Suffering horn toads!” exclaimed the Laramie man, passing his gaze
from the nearly spent horse to the excited newcomer. “From the looks
of your horse, neighbor, I reckon you only hit an occasional high
place for a good distance back.”
“We flew,” grinned the man, “but we had ter. Ain’t forgot me, have
ye?”
He looked at Wild Bill ingratiatingly.
“Dot and carry one!” cried Wild Bill, recognizing the newcomer
suddenly. “Can this be Sim Pierce, the gent I came company front with
in Hackamore? Sim Pierce, scion of the Pierces of San Antone?”
“Aw’ shucks!” said Sim Pierce deprecatingly, drawing a bar of chewing
from his hip pocket, and loading himself with one corner of it.
Returning the tobacco to his pocket, he dropped down on the bench on
which the pards were sitting, chewed wide and reflectively for a few
moments, and hooked up one knee between his hands.
“Sim,” remarked Wild Bill, after the silence had begun to grow
embarrassing, “did you ride your caballo into a quiver just to come
here and show Buffalo Bill and me how you handle a plug of Cowboy’s
Pride?”
“Waal, not so you kin notice,” answered Sim. “I was glad I seen
ye out hyer by yerselves. It gives me a chanst ter onbosom myself
without lettin’ the Perrys savvy.”
“Perrys! Only one Perry and two Dunbars live in that house now.”
“Which I stand kerrected. Buffler Bill an’ pards have shore done a
heap fer the Perrys an’ Nate Dunbar. Gosh-all-whittaker! Say, I’d
have given my boots ter see a weddin’ in the saddle, hosses slashin’
erlong like all-possessed, sky pilot pufformin’ like he never done
afore! Say, I’ll bet that was some fine as a spectacle.”
“Some, and that’s a fact, Sim,” said Wild Bill. “But you’re not
telling why you raced up here like a scared coyote looking for home
and mother. Does it pain you any to get down to cases?”
“Hyer’s where I git at it,” answered Sim. “That sky pilot, Jordan,
the feller as done the knot tyin’ while the hosses was at a run, sent
me hyer. He had a message fer Buffler Bill an’ pards.”
“Ah,” spoke up the scout. “What was the message?”
“‘Tell Buffler Bill,’ says the sky pilot, ‘not ter leave the Star-A
ranch fer a spell yit. Tell him,’ he says further, ‘that ther trouble
ain’t over fer ther Perrys.’ Things is hatchin’ right this minit, he
allows, over ter Lige Benner’s. Lige ain’t feelin’ none too good over
the way he got done up, an’ he’s plannin’ ter cut loose with some
other kind of er rough house.”
“How did Jordan discover that?” queried Buffalo Bill.
“One o’ Benner’s men, who’s a friend o’ Jordan’s, sprung a leak.
The sky pilot got all worked up. He’s a nervy ombray, that same
Jordan, but he’s been takin’ more physical exercise lately than what
he kin stand. He’s laid up fer repairs in the Delmonico _Ho_-tel in
Hackamore.”
“Not sick?”
“Not him--jest tired like. Preachin’ the Gospel is some differn’t
from makin’ er splice in the saddle with the hosses jest er-smokin’.
Right strenyus work fer a sky pilot, I call _that_.”
“What sort of deviltry is Lige Benner hatching, Sim?” went on the
scout.
“Benner’s man didn’t say--mebby he didn’t know--but he allowed it was
ter be pulled off some suddent. Jordan thought you fellers might git
a line on purceedin’s an’ use yore original, Cody brand o’ kybosh.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all. I’ll now go over ter the c’ral, put out my hoss an’ hang
eround till arter dinner; then I’ll p’int fer Hackamore. Whar’s Nate?”
“Gone to town. You’d have passed him if you’d come the regular trail.”
“Shucks! Say, I was in sich a big hurry that I kim ’cross lots. Waal,
hyer’s fer ther c’ral.”
Sim Pierce stepped toward his horse and laid hold of the bridle reins.
“Mind, Sim,” warned the scout as the man moved off, “not a word about
this to Mrs. Dunbar or Perry. There may be nothing to it, and there’s
no need of arousing the fears of those in the house.”
“Shore not,” flung back Pierce over his shoulder as he moved away
with his horse. “I’ll keep mum, all right.”
“What do you think about this, Hickok?” queried the scout
thoughtfully, when he and the Laramie man were again alone.
“I don’t think that sky pilot would have sent Sim with a warning
unless there was good ground for worry.”
“My notion, exactly. Jordan isn’t a man to shy at trifles. But how
are we to know what’s taking place at Benner’s ranch?”
“I’ve got a way for discovering that, pard. Listen.”
With that, the Laramie man settled back and freed his mind of a
daring expedient which had abruptly occurred to him.
“It might be safe enough for Buffalo Bill or one of his pards to call
at Lige Benner’s ranch, but if one of us dropped in there, compadre,
how much would he find out?”
“Not much, and that’s a fact,” said Buffalo Bill. “Benner is the
kind of a snake-in-the-grass that strikes from cover, and he hunts
his cover well. If you or I went to his place, Hickok, we might or
might not come away with our scalps; but--and mark this--if anything
happened to us, Lige Benner would fix things so he could prove an
alibi.”
“Right-o. I wasn’t thinking along that line, however. If Benner is
laying his wires, Buffalo Bill or his pards wouldn’t be able to
discover anything; but if some one went there who wasn’t known to be
one of Cody’s pards, there’d be a fine opportunity for getting a line
on Benner.”
“Well, yes. I’m not catching your drift, though, Hickok.”
“Here’s the drift: Suppose I fix up in different clothes and ride to
Benner’s? Maybe I’m a cowpuncher hunting a job, and maybe I’m a Jew
peddler, or any other thing that seems most likely to fill the bill.
Benner wouldn’t know me from Adam, and I’m willing to gamble my spurs
that I’d uncover a pay streak of information.”
The scout shook his head dubiously.
“Benner and all his men know you, pard,” said he. “It’s a question
whether you could hide your identity so they wouldn’t know you. If
you blew in there in a disguise, and they discovered who you were,
there’d be fireworks and fatalities. Is it worth the risk?”
“Not is it worth the risk, pard, but is there a chance that the
risk would work out? Personally, I wouldn’t be averse to a little
excitement, but----”
“That’s the way you always stack up, Hickok, and that’s the point
that would work most against you.”
“But,” went on Hickok, “I understand my responsibilities, and that,
if I don’t get away without arousing suspicion, what information I
pick up won’t do Perry or the Dunbars any good. Which and wherefore
is the reason I’ll play my cards with care and caution. Besides, you
know how well I can make up. If I wasn’t a pard of Cody’s, and mired
in the West, I reckon I’d be on the stage. Am I, or am I not, an
actor?”
“You are,” laughed the scout; “one of the best actors I’ve seen in
many a day. I remember how you played the part of a vaquero, over in
Arizona, and fooled the rest of your pards.”
“Ah! Well, if I could fool my pards, why can’t I fool Benner and his
outfit? I can, and I will. Just give me leave to try, that’s all.”
The scout reflected. When Wild Bill left only the scout would be with
Perry and Mrs. Dunbar. If Benner and his men tried to make a raid
on the Star-A, there would be merry doings to follow and perhaps
some losses of Star-A property. But a raid was too open a warfare
for Benner, the scout knew. The unscrupulous cattleman liked best
a covert and more reprehensible hostility--something like a bullet
from ambush, or a knife in the back. But, after the lesson Benner had
received at the hands of the scout and his pards, it was doubtful
whether he would even dare to launch lead from cover. If he was
planning reprisal against Perry and Dunbar, Benner would proceed by
more devious ways to effect his purposes. It was necessary that his
plans should be known so that they might be guarded against.
“While we’re hemming and hawing and sidestepping, pard,” spoke up
Wild Bill, “the plot is thickening over at Benner’s. And Benner’s,
you know, is a good two hours’ ride down the Brazos. Come to centre
quick, so I can mosey along--if I’m going.”
“We’re not at all sure there’s any plotting going on at Benner’s,”
said the scout.
“So far as that goes, we’re not sure of much of anything in this
world but death and taxes. Anyhow, Pard Cody, about two minutes ago
you rose to remark that Jordan wasn’t a man to send a messenger with
a warning unless there was really something on the carpet.”
“Nor do I think he is,” answered the scout. “Jordan, for a sky pilot,
is about as clear-headed, practical a man as I ever met. But suppose
it was part of Benner’s game to steer this man of his against the sky
pilot with a fake report of trouble brewing? What if that’s a part of
Benner’s plan?”
“How would Benner gain anything by that?” asked Wild Bill, wrinkling
his brows over this new phase of the matter.
“He might gain just the point you’re suggesting--that one of us ride
to his ranch for investigation. Perhaps that’s what he’s working for.”
“So he can get hold of one of us?”
“Possibly.”
“Well, Benner’s long-headed, Pard Cody, but he’s not so long-headed
as all that comes to. I’ll gamble that Benner’s man who tipped off
the sky pilot was acting in good faith. We know Jordan has friends
at Benner’s; and maybe Perry has a few there, too, and that they’re
trying to show friendship in the only way they dare, and hold their
jobs. Which is it, yes or no?”
“Go ahead,” said the scout; “but, if you’re not back by some time
to-night, you’ll know I’m hitting the trail on the hunt for you.”
“I’ll get back, and don’t you forget that. Stay right here for half
an hour and I’ll show you something.”
Wild Bill, as he spoke, got up from the bench. A moment later he had
disappeared in the bunk house behind the ranch headquarters.
The scout, filling and lighting his pipe, leaned back on the bench
and gave way to reflections that were not wholly agreeable.
Here, where he and his friends had wrought peace and happiness on
the Star-A section of the Brazos, had suddenly appeared the ugly,
serpent-like head of under-handed war.
Perry, just when he was securing the respect and confidence of the
cattlemen up and down the river--excepting Benner, of course--might
be called on to face more troubles. And of these he had had enough,
and more than enough.
Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar, too, might be rudely disturbed in their
new-found dream of happiness. This possibility the scout regretted
deeply, for he had taking a great liking to Dunbar and his wife, and
would have gone far to insure their tranquil future.
The scout wished that he had not allowed the baron, the trapper and
the little Piute to leave Perry’s for the Dinkelmann ranch. If clouds
were really beginning to show in the peaceful skies, all the pards
should be corraled in one place, ready to hurl their united strength
against any quarter of the compass from which a sudden call might
come.
“Podner, who lives hyer?”
The raucous voice broke in suddenly on the scout’s reflections.
Lifting his eyes he stared at about as ornery a specimen of the genus
hobo as he had ever set eyes on.
The man’s face was dirty; his slouch hat was full of bullet holes
and the crown was loose and flapping. Through the crown protruded a
few stray locks of unkempt hair. Over the man’s left eye was a red
handkerchief bandage. His face was dirty. His ragged blue flannel
shirt and his torn, greasy trousers were belted in at the waist with
a section of frayed rope. On one foot he wore a boot, and on the
other a moccasin. But he was riding a good horse, well accoutred--a
horse the scout recognized as Wild Bill’s.
“Get off that horse, you!” cried the scout, rising sternly. “If----”
The scout’s voice trailed into silence, and the silence was broken by
a hearty laugh from the man in the saddle.
“By gorry,” came the familiar tones of the Laramie man, “if I didn’t
fool the king of scouts himself, I’m a yap! Whoosh! You must have
mislaid the eagle eye, pard! What chance has Benner got to get next
to me if you went so wide of the mark?”
The scout joined in his pard’s laugh.
“You’ll do, Wild Bill,” said he, “all but the horse. Your get-up
don’t jibe with the riding gear and the animal you’re riding. The
horse and trappings will be a dead give-away.”
“Nary, Pard Cody. The horse and trappings are going to be a big help.”
“How?”
“Why, look. I come breezing up to Benner’s hangout with a yarn to the
effect that I lifted the horse at the Star-A. That ought to get me in
with Benner, if he’s at all crooked. A man who’ll steal a horse will
probably be the sort of a chap he’d like to use in his present game
of cold deck and loaded ivories. I’ve the medicine tongue for a job
like that, don’t you think?”
“You’re one of the most resourceful men in a pinch I ever saw,
Hickok,” declared the scout. “Lay your own plans and carry them out
in your own way, but be sure and get back here to-night.”
“That’s me. When I come, I’ll come loaded.”
“With information, I hope, and with none of Benner’s lead. So long,
and good luck to you.”
“Adios!”
Wild Bill kicked his heels into Beeswax’s ribs and started through
the timber, en route down the river and headed for Benner’s.
“He’ll make good,” thought the scout, “and if there’s anything
brewing at trouble headquarters, Wild Bill will hustle back with the
news.”
Getting up from the bench, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and
went to join Perry and Sim Pierce in front of the cabin.