THE DESPERADOES' DEN.
Shortly after this adventure of the rescue of the stage coach, the
Indians became so bad along the line that the Pony Express and stages
had to be stopped for awhile on account of the large number of horses
run off.
This caused a number of the employees of the Overland to be idle, and
they at once formed a company to go in search of the missing stock, and
also to punish the red-skins.
Of this company Wild Bill, who had been driving stage, was elected the
commander, and, as they were all a brave set of men, it was expected
they would render a good account of themselves.
Of course Buffalo Billy went along, by years the youngest of the party,
but second to none for courage and skill in prairie craft.
They first struck the Indians in force on the Overland trail, and
defeating them with heavy loss, pursued them to the Powder River, and
then down that stream to the vicinity of where old Fort Reno now stands.
Pushing them hard the whites had several engagements with them, and each
one of the company performed some deed of valor, but none were more
conspicuous for daring deeds than was Buffalo Billy.
Permitting them no rest the whites drove the Indians into their village,
and although they were outnumbered four to one, captured all of the
company's stock as well as the ponies of the red-skins.
Having been so successful Wild Bill gave the order to return, and the
Indians had been too badly worsted to follow, and they reached
Sweetwater Bridge in safety, and without the loss of an animal they had
retaken or captured.
The stages and Pony Express at once began to run again on time, and
Buffalo Billy was transferred to another part of the line, to drive
through a mountainous district.
But anxious to return home, after his long absence, he resigned his
position, determined to take advantage of a train going east, and in
which he could get a position as assistant baggage-master on the
homeward-bound trip, which would pay him for a couple of months'
service, thereby giving him a larger sum to carry to his family.
As it would be several days before the train started, Buffalo Billy
determined to enjoy a bear-hunt, and mounting his favorite horse, the
roan he had captured from the Indian chief, he set out for the
foot-hills of Laramie Peak.
After a day of pleasure, in which he had shot considerable game, such as
deer, antelope and sage hens, but not a bear, he camped for the night in
a pretty nook upon one of the mountain streams.
Hardly had he fastened his roan and begun to build a fire, by which to
cook his supper, when he was startled by the neigh of a horse up in the
mountains.
Instantly he sprung to his horse, and, by his hand over his nostrils,
prevented him from giving an answering whinny, while he stood in silence
listening, for he knew that he might rather expect to see a foe there
than a friend.
As the neigh was once more repeated, Buffalo Billy resaddled his horse,
hitched him so that he could be easily unfastened, and, with his rifle
started cautiously on foot up the stream.
He had not gone far when in a little glen he beheld nearly half a
hundred horses grazing and lariated out.
This was a surprise to him, and he was most cautious indeed, for he was
convinced that they belonged to some prowling band of Indians.
Presently, up the mountain further, he caught sight of a sudden light,
and his keen eye detected that a man's form had momentarily appeared and
then all was darkness once more.
On he went in the direction of the light, going as noiselessly as a
panther creeping upon its prey, until presently he dimly discovered the
outline of a small cabin, built back against the precipitous side of an
overhanging hill.
Hearing voices, and recognizing that they were white men, he stepped
boldly forward and knocked at the door.
Instantly there followed a dead silence within, and again he knocked.
"Who is there?" asked a gruff voice.
"A pard."
"Come in, pard."
Billy obeyed.
But instantly he regretted it, for his eyes fell upon a dozen
villainous-looking fellows, several of whom he recognized as having seen
loafing at the Overland stations, and who were considered all that was
bad.
"Who are you?" asked one who appeared to be the leader.
"I am Bill Cody, a stage driver on the Overland, and I came up here on a
bear-hunt."
"You're a healthy looking stage driver, you are, when you are nothing
more than a boy."
"Yes, Bob, he tells ther truth, fer I hes seen him handle ther ribbons,
and he does it prime too; he are the Pony Rider who they calls Buff'ler
Billy," said another of the gang.
"Ther devil yer say: waal, I has heerd o' him as a greased terror, an'
he looks it; but who's with yer, young pard?"
"I am alone."
"It hain't likely."
"But I am."
"Yer must be durned fond o' b'ar-meat ter come up here alone."
"I am."
"Waal, did yer get yer b'ar?"
"No."
"Whar's yer critter?"
"My horse is down the mountain."
"I'll go arter him," said one suspiciously; but Billy answered quickly:
"Oh, no, I'll not trouble you; but if I can leave my rifle here, I'll go
after him."
"All right, pard; but I guesses two of us better go with yer fer
comp'ny, as we loves ter be sociable."
Buffalo Billy well knew now that he was in a nest of horse-thieves and
desperadoes; but he dared not show his suspicions, as he felt assured
they would kill him without the slightest compunction.
So he said pleasantly:
"Well, come along, for it is pleasanter to have company, and I'll stay
with you to-night if you'll let me."
"Oh, yes, we'll let yer stay, fer we is awful social in our notions.
Here Ben, you and Tabor go with my young pard and bring his horse up to
the corral."
The two assigned for this duty were the very worst looking of the band,
as far as villainous faces went; but Buffalo Billy's quick brain had
already formed a plan of escape, and he was determined to carry it out.
Down the hill they went until they came to the horse, and both eyed his
fine points, as dimly seen in the darkness, with considerable pleasure,
while one muttered:
"The Cap will be sure to fancy him."
"There is a string of game that might come in well for supper," said
Billy, as he pointed to a dark object on the ground.
"They will, fer sure," was the eager answer, and the man stooped to pick
up the game when Billy suddenly dealt him a blow that felled him to the
earth.
At the same time he wheeled upon the other, who already had his hand
upon his revolver, and before he could fire, his own finger touched the
trigger, and the desperado fell.
Bounding into his saddle he turned his horse down the mountain side,
just as the door of the cabin was thrown open and he saw the band
streaming out from their den, alarmed by the shot.
In hot pursuit they rushed down the mountain side, and for a short while
gained upon Billy, for he dared not urge his horse rapidly down the
steep hillside.
But once in the valley and the roan bounded forward at a swift pace, and
not a moment too soon, for the revolver shots began to rattle, and the
bullets to fly uncomfortably near.
On, at a swift gait the roan went, and though Billy heard the clatter of
hoofs in chase, he had no fear, as he well knew the speed of the animal
he rode.
After a few miles' pursuit the desperadoes gave up the chase and
returned toward the mountains, while Buffalo Billy urged the roan on,
and a couple of hours before dawn he reached the station, roused the
men, and in fifteen minutes two score horsemen were on the way to the
mountains, led by the boy, though Alf Slade himself went in command of
the company.
But though they found the dug-out, and the grave of the man Billy had
killed, the birds had flown, leaving one of their number in his last
resting place to mark the visit of the youth to the desperadoes' den.