BANKS AND HENDRICKS.
There was something humorous in the situation, now that Dell had
forced herself into the peculiar combination, and held the key to it,
so to speak.
Buffalo Bill had covered Banks, Hendricks had covered Buffalo Bill,
and now Dell was looking at Hendricks over a diamond-sight.
“Who the blazes are ye, up there on the hill?” shouted Hendricks,
seeking to temporize.
“All you need to know is that I’ve got the drop,” cried Dell sharply.
“You heard what I said about dropping that revolver. I’m not going to
repeat the order.”
“Ye’re a woman, by ther sound o’ yer voice,” shouted Hendricks, who
did not dare remove his eyes from the scout, any more than the scout
dared take his from Banks, “an’ I reckon ye daren’t shoot at----”
The thirty-eight spoke, and the report was followed by a ring of lead
against steel.
Dell’s shot had struck the barrel of Hendricks’ revolver close to the
cylinder, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hand.
A startled yell broke from Hendricks, followed quickly by the cool
voice of the girl:
“Disarm your man, Buffalo Bill; I’ve disarmed Hendricks, and he’s not
able to interfere.”
“Come closer, Banks,” said the scout. “You don’t want to force me to
take your miserable life, do you? This trigger works on a hair.”
Banks stepped up to within arm’s length of the scout. With his left
hand the scout disarmed Banks, then whirled on Hendricks.
Dell Dauntless had descended the hill-slope and was standing within
a dozen feet of Hendricks, her revolver leveled, and a look of
determination in her blue eyes.
“It’s all over but payin’ the bets, ain’t it?” grinned Hendricks
sourly.
“When a man dances he has to pay the fiddler,” said Buffalo Bill.
“You and Banks will pay with a few years in the ‘pen.’ Take his guns,
Dell,” he added to the girl.
Dell stepped forward and picked the revolver out of Hendricks’ belt,
and took its mate off the ground.
“That was a blame’ purty shot,” remarked Hendricks, referring to the
one that had knocked the revolver out of his hand, “’specially when
ye think as how it was a woman done it.”
“I could have taken your finger along with the revolver, if I had
wanted to,” said Dell.
“’Bliged ter ye fer not doin’ it. I needs the finger.”
Hendricks’ horse stood a few yards around the base of the rock.
“Take both mounts, Dell,” said the scout, “and bring them along
after Banks and Hendricks. Fall in, you fellows,” he added to the
prisoners, “shoulder to shoulder, ahead of me.”
With Buffalo Bill’s guns staring them in the face, the ruffians could
do nothing less than obey; thereupon the scout marched them over the
top of the hill and down on the other side to the place where Cayuse
was waiting with Bear Paw and Silver Heels.
The boy’s eyes gleamed like those of an angry panther as he looked at
Banks.
“Was that the man who had you pulled up at the face of the cliff,
Cayuse?” asked the scout, indicating Banks.
“Wuh!” snarled Cayuse, his hand groping for his knife.
“Leave him alone, boy,” said the scout, in a tone of sharp command.
“The law is going to take care of him.”
“Hendricks, there,” said Dell, “is the man who met Annie McGowan at
the railroad-station in Phœnix.”
“They were both concerned in the abduction,” returned Buffalo Bill,
“and they can both be sent over the road.”
“What ye givin’ us?” scowled Banks. “We ain’t done nothin’ we can be
sent up fer.”
“We have the proof, Banks, and you and Hendricks will go to Yuma just
as surely as the sun rises and sets.” The scout turned to the Piute.
“Go up the hill, Cayuse, and keep watch for Apaches.”
Hendricks watched Cayuse moodily as he climbed the slope.
“What ye goin’ ter do with us, Buffalo Bill?” he asked.
“Take you to Phœnix and turn you over to the sheriff,” said the scout
promptly. “Cover Banks, Dell,” he added, “while I get Hendricks in
shape to travel.”
Dell was loaded down with the four revolvers taken from Banks and
Hendricks. Kneeling in the sand, she laid the extra weapons beside
her, and drew a bead on Banks.
“If Banks makes a move to bolt,” instructed the scout, “shoot him.
Get on your horse, Hendricks,” he went on, to the other man.
“Look here,” demurred Hendricks, “can’t we fix this thing up somehow?”
“The only way you can fix it up,” snapped the scout, “is by taking
your medicine. Get on your horse, I said!”
Muttering to himself, Hendricks got astride his mount. Taking the
prisoner’s riata off the horn, the scout bound his wrists at the back
and his feet under the saddle-girths.
There were several feet of rope left, and this the scout ran up to
the pommel, where he made a half hitch, then on along the horse’s
neck and through one of the bit-rings. From the bit-ring he led the
rope to his own saddle and made it secure at the horn.
In this manner Hendricks was firmly bound to his horse, and his horse
was firmly secured to Bear Paw.
Banks was treated in identically the same manner.
Now, as a matter of fact, the scout had no intention of taking the
two prisoners to Phœnix. What he wanted from them was information,
and he was willing to give them their liberty if they would tell him
what he wanted to know.
Hendricks and Banks were the kind of men, however, who understand
nothing but the “iron hand.” The scout wanted overtures to come from
them.
“Get into your saddle, Dell,” said the scout, when both horses ridden
by the prisoners had been made fast to Bear Paw. “If we start now,
we ought to be able to reach Phœnix some time before midnight. The
quicker we get these scoundrels behind the bars, the better.”
So well was the scout playing up his “bluff” that even Dell was
deceived.
“Hadn’t we better wait, Buffalo Bill,” she returned, “until after----”
“We’ll wait for nothing,” he cut in, at the same time telegraphing
her a message with his eyes. “We have a dead open-and-shut on these
two men. Hendricks met Annie McGowan at Phœnix, and Banks and
Hendricks were both mixed up in the theft of the team and buckboard.”
The girl started toward Silver Heels and the scout placed one foot in
his stirrup.
“Jest a minit, you Buffalo Bill,” said Hendricks. “Don’t go off half
cocked till ye hear what Banks an’ me hev got ter say.”
“You haven’t a thing to say that interests me,” Buffalo Bill
answered. “Get up here, Cayuse,” he called. “Sit on the horse with
your back to mine, so you can watch the prisoners as we ride. Give
him one of those revolvers, Dell. He can shoot with his left hand, if
the prisoners make it necessary.”
While these orders were being carried out, the prisoners, who were
stirrup to stirrup with each other, were exchanging low-spoken words.
When the cavalcade was ready to start, Cayuse was riding with his
face to the rear, a six-shooter in his left hand, and Dell was behind
the prisoners. Thus watched from front and rear, and bound and
helpless, such a thing as escape was an impossibility.
“I tell ye ter wait,” cried Hendricks, “afore ye go on any further
with this here pufformance. Takin’ us ter the Phœnix calaboose ain’t
goin’ ter help ye none in locatin’ Annie McGowan.”
“We’ll find her,” said the scout confidently, “and we’ll find Bascomb
and Bernritter, too.”
“Ye’ll never find ’em if ye don’t listen ter Banks an’ me.”
“It’s my opinion,” said the scout, “that Banks and you can lie faster
than a dog can trot.”
“We’ll make a deal with ye,” proceeded Hendricks, anxious and
desperate.
“What sort of a deal?” asked the scout casually. “It takes two to
make a bargain.”
“Right ye are, Buffalo Bill. If ye’ll make a bargain with us, we’ll
keep our side of it.”
“What sort of a bargain have you to propose?”
Even yet the scout was not showing much interest, although he was
throbbing with it.
“Well, Bascomb an’ Bernritter ain’t nothin’ ter Banks an’ me,” went
on Hendricks. “They promised us money if we’d help ’em pull off this
here deal; but they said it was a safe deal, an’ that nothin’ would
happen to us.” Hendricks laughed sardonically. “An’ here,” he added,
“is what happens ter us, fust crack out o’ the box. All in one day we
pull off a penitentiary offense an’ git snagged fer it.”
“What’s your proposition?” asked the scout impatiently.
“It’s this: We’ll tell ye where Bascomb and Bernritter are hangin’
out with the gal, purvidin’ ye turns us loose with our hosses an’ our
hardware an’ gives us time to git out of the kentry.”
“And maybe you’ll tell the truth and maybe you won’t. I wouldn’t
trust you two as far as I could throw a steer by the tail.”
“We’ll tell ye the truth,” insisted Banks. “Why, man, ye kin prove
we’ve told ye the truth afore ye let us go.”
“Probably you want to run us into some trap or other,” reflected the
scout.
“Nary a trap,” went on Hendricks. “Bein’ with ye, we’d be gittin’
inter a trap ourselves.”
“I’ll give you a trial,” said the scout, after a period of reflection.
The prisoners brightened.
“How do we know,” said Banks, “ye’ll keep yer word an’ turn us loose
after we tell ye?”
“You don’t,” returned the scout. “All you’ve got is my word for it.
If I take your word, you’ll have to take mine.”
“That’s enough fer me, Banks,” said Hendricks.
“Where’s Miss McGowan?” asked the scout.
“She, along with Bascomb and Bernritter, is on the island in
Quicksand Lake.”
“Island in Quicksand Lake!” echoed the scout derisively.
“There is such a place as Quicksand Lake, Buffalo Bill,” put in Dell,
“and there is an island in the lake. But, so far as I know, no one
has ever been able to reach the island.”
“Bascomb and Bernritter hev been able ter reach the island,” averred
Hendricks, “an’ I was there myself, jest before I started fer Squaw
Rock to meet Banks. Consarn the luck! If I’d ’a’ stayed on the
island, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“Do you know the way to Quicksand Lake, Dell?” asked the scout.
“Yes.”
“How far is it from here?”
“Three miles, if we cut across the plain around Squaw Rock.”
“We’ll go there, and see what we can find. Hendricks and Banks will
go with us. If we learn they are not telling the truth, we’ll take
them on to Phœnix; and if we find they’re up to any treacherous
dodge, we’ll have a bullet for each of them. Ride for Squaw Rock, and
we’ll----”
A quavering, long-drawn-out whoop reached the ears of the scout and
his pards, coming from over the hill in the direction of the big
boulder.
“Apaches!” grunted Little Cayuse.
A gleam of hope shot athwart the faces of the prisoners.
“Dell,” said the scout, “if either one of the prisoners speaks a
word, use your revolver on him; and if the Apaches make an attack on
us, we’ll put the prisoners in front to receive the first volley; and
if luck goes against us, and the Apaches make a surround, if they get
Hendricks and Banks we’ll see to it that they get them with their
boots on.”
The gleam of hope faded from the faces of Banks and Hendricks and a
look of concern took its place.
“Watch them, Dell, you and Cayuse,” finished the scout, leaping to
the ground.
Crawling up the slope once more, he peered over the top.
The sun was down and evening was coming on; but, in spite of the
hovering shadows, the scout could see the five Apaches from the gulch.
Two were wounded. One had a bandage about his thigh and another about
his left arm, and had to be tied to his cayuse in order to stay on
the animal’s back.
Grouped about the rock, the Indians were evidently waiting for
Banks, whom they had been told to come there and meet.
Returning back down the slope, the scout got astride his horse.
“Can we get to Quicksand Lake, Dell,” he asked, “without crossing the
plain in the vicinity of Squaw Rock?”
“We can, but it is a hard trail and will take us a great deal
longer,” answered Dell.
“Better a hard trail and more time spent on the trip, than another
set-to with the Apaches. You’d better take the lead, Dell. Cayuse
will watch the prisoners.”
The girl got around in front and started off along the base of the
hill.
Realizing the difficulties of traveling when Buffalo Bill had two
prisoners in tow, Dell picked out the easiest trail she could find.
Even at that the way was difficult enough, in all conscience.
For the first quarter of a mile of their riding they were careful to
make as little noise as they could; after that, knowing themselves to
be pretty well clear of the five Indians, it was not necessary for
them to be so cautious.
The path Dell selected was not nearly so rough a one as that which
they had followed to Squaw Rock from the defile, but they had now the
growing darkness to contend with, and this hampered their progress.
Climbing ascents and sliding down descents, threading tortuous
valleys, and traversing the scarps of sharp ridges, they pursued
their way steadily.
Buffalo Bill experienced considerable discomfort from the ropes with
which the two led horses were secured to his saddle. One of these
ropes passed on either side of him, and when the led horses came
close together he was caught between the tethers; and occasionally,
when the led horses swerved to one side, he was all but thrown from
Bear Paw’s back.
He could do nothing else, however, but bear with the discomfort.
After two hours of saddle-work, the moon came up over the hills,
round and bright. The landscape came out distinctly under its
brilliant beams.
“How much farther, Dell?” called the scout.
“We’re almost there,” the girl answered. “This valley, through which
we are now traveling, runs down to the shore of the lake.”
The valley referred to by Dell was broad and shallow, and it became
broader and more shallow as they followed it, finally giving way to
the flat desert, which sloped in front of them to the edge of a level
of bubbling sand.
“There’s the lake,” said Dell.
“Where’s the island?”
“It’s off to the right, about forty feet from the shore.”
“It’s a quicksand lake, is it?”
“Exactly so, Buffalo Bill, and true in every particular to its name.
It is oblong in shape, and measures two hundred yards across its
narrowest, and three hundred yards across its widest, part.”
“There’s no reef of solid ground between the shore and the island?”
“Absolutely none. One step off shore and a person would go into the
sands up to his waist. To get out, when once entrapped in the sand,
would be an utter impossibility. The sand sucks a person down and
down, until he is smothered and buried. Quicksand Lake not only
takes a man’s life, but also furnishes him with a grave.”
“The men we are looking for must have some way of crossing back and
forth,” observed the scout.
“Then they must have some sort of a drawbridge,” commented the girl,
“for the sands could not be crossed unless a person had something to
walk on.”
“You and Cayuse stay here and take care of the prisoners and the
horses, Dell, while I investigate.”
Leaving Bear Paw in charge of Cayuse, Buffalo Bill went down toward
the shore of the strange lake, Dell warning him as he went to be
careful and not step off the bank.
There was some need of this caution, for the scout found that the
solid earth merged gradually into the bubbling sand, and that one
reckless step might prove a person’s undoing.
In the moonlight the lake was an odd sight. The sands that composed
it seemed in constant motion, bubbling and rippling from some
underlying force. It was very like the “jumping quicksands” of the
Bad Lands, with which the scout was familiar, only here there were no
gliding hillocks, but minute ridges like small waves.
No doubt there were springs under the whole extent of the lake, and
the water impregnated the sand and gave it its motion.
As far as the scout could see, the slope to the quicksands was an
easy one. A dark mass, rising clear of the sands off on the right,
impressed the scout as being the island, and he moved in that
direction.
He stopped before he came opposite the island, for there was an
object on the bank of the lake which claimed his attention. This
object was a buckboard--McGowan’s buckboard, undoubtedly, and the one
in which Hendricks had spirited Annie McGowan to that rendezvous in
Quicksand Lake.
This was a bit of proof that Hendricks and Banks had been giving the
scout correct information.
But where were the star-faced cayuses? Had Bascomb and Bernritter
some means of taking the animals to the island, along with their own
mounts?
Passing the buckboard, Buffalo Bill continued his investigation.
As he came abreast of the island, he grew more cautious in his
movements. The short distance which separated the island from the
shore, together with the bright moonlight, would enable those on the
island to see him unless he was wary and careful.
Creeping onward, several yards from the shore, he finally halted and
crouched in the sand.
The island was low and small. It appeared to be covered with large
stones, heaped at its center into a sort of breastwork.
No sounds came from the island, and there was no other evidence that
criminals had taken possession of it as a rendezvous.
Something nearer the edge of the quicksands captured the scout’s
attention, and he crept down to investigate.
Close inspection showed the dark blot to be comprised of a dozen kegs
and several boxes. The kegs contained water and the boxes food.
“This is the food and water supply for those on the island,”
reasoned the scout. “Presumably Hendricks brought the plunder in the
buckboard, and Bascomb and Bernritter have not yet taken it across.
It looks as though they were laying in supplies so as to be in shape
to withstand a possible siege.”
An idea struck the scout. Crouching under the screen of the kegs, he
turned it over in his mind.
“About the only way to get at those scoundrels,” he mentally debated,
“will be to starve them out. No charge could be made across the
quicksands, unless an attacking force had the outlaws’ means for
getting across, and a few men behind those rocks on the island could
stand off a besieging force indefinitely. If we could remove these
supplies, and keep Bascomb and Bernritter from----”
The scout, while he was thinking, was also keeping his eyes over the
top of the kegs. Suddenly he detected a movement among the shadows
that lay under the rocks of the island. Ceasing his reflections, he
leaned across the kegs and watched intently.
Somebody was doing something; but what? The shadows lay so thick
about the island’s shore that he could not tell.
Presently he saw a man moving out upon the surface of the treacherous
quicksand. As the man walked, he seemed to be pushing something ahead
of him.
Curious, and profoundly interested, the scout kept his eyes on the
dark figure.
Farther and farther the man left the shore of the island behind him,
still pushing a round object in advance of him as he walked.
How was he able to keep on top of the bubbling sands? What sort of an
object was it that he was pushing?
The man appeared to be leaving a broad, dark trail behind him. For
some time the scout was mystified.
The man was laying a course that would bring him to the shore at the
place where the kegs and boxes had been placed. When he had covered
half the distance that separated him from the shore, the scout began
to make discoveries.
The long, round object the fellow was pushing in front of him had
diminished by half since he had left the island shore.
Plainly, then, he was leaving part of the object behind him; and it
was equally plain that it was this object which gave him a secure
foothold on the treacherous and shifting sands.
The scout strained his eyes upon the diminishing roll in front of the
figure.
He made out long, thin slabs of wood, bound closely together by ropes.
Ah! The scout had pierced the mystery.
The thin slabs, bound together by ropes, when unrolled formed a sort
of movable causeway, the length of each slab being sufficient to
resist the soft sands and offer footing and support.
By that time the man was quite near, and his bundle of slabs had been
almost exhausted.
The scout had made up his mind as to what he should do.
Crouching down behind the kegs, he waited, every nerve tense as a
forestay, and every muscle primed for quick action.