THE ISLAND.
The actions of the man had they been planned by the scout himself,
could not have worked out better for the scout’s plans.
Tired from his work of unrolling the big bundle of slabs, the man
stepped from the causeway and plumped down on one of the kegs, his
back to the scout.
The man was a stranger to the scout. He was one whom Buffalo Bill had
never seen before.
Quite likely he had helped Hendricks and Banks in carrying out the
rascally plan for the abduction of Annie McGowan.
While the man sat on the keg, Buffalo Bill rose softly behind him,
caught him about the throat with both hands, and jerked him backward
to the ground.
The fellow’s surprise must have been overwhelming, but he had no way
of manifesting it. The compression at his throat rendered any spoken
sound impossible.
After a moment of limp inaction, however, he began to struggle. Being
a powerfully built man, it was necessary for the scout to get the
whip-hand of him quickly.
Pulling his right hand from the fellow’s throat, Buffalo Bill dealt
him a heavy blow between the eyes--a blow calculated to do little
damage other than to stun and thus afford leeway for making him
secure.
The blow was successful in this, for the man ceased his struggles on
the instant, and straightened out with a stifled gasp.
Working rapidly, the scout pulled a couple of revolvers from the
scoundrel’s belt, then unbuckled the belt and bound it about his
ankles. With a cotton handkerchief taken from his throat he gagged
him, and with his own handkerchief, twisted into a rope, he bound his
hands at his back.
All this was accomplished by the resourceful scout in hardly more
time than it takes to tell of it. Scarcely was the work done, when a
hail came from the island.
“What ye doin’, Giles?” called a voice.
“Restin’,” answered the scout, disguising his voice.
“What’s the matter? Got a frog in yer throat?”
“Tired an’ winded, thet’s all,” replied the scout.
“Waal, hustle up with that plunder. Git it all over here an’ pile it
up on the shore. We’ll take it behind the breastworks ter-morrer,
when we kin have daylight fer it. Don’t fergit ter pull in ther
bridge, an’ roll it up tight when ye do it. Look sharp, now! Them’s
the on’y supplies we got, an’ if ye should drop a box inter the sands
we’d miss ’em mightily. Bring a water-keg first. Our canteens are
purty nigh empty.”
The scout heard the speaker moving away, and saw his dark form vanish
among the boulders.
The move the scout had planned was a reckless one. Yet, nevertheless,
he proceeded to carry it out with all his usual determination.
Picking up one of the kegs, he stepped out on the causeway. The
wooden slabs gave slightly under his feet, but, by moving swiftly, he
did not sink more than an inch on any one of them.
Swiftly he crossed to the other end of the peculiar bridge and
stepped off upon the rocky shore with his keg. There he set the keg
down and deftly removed the plug from the bung-hole, allowing the
water slowly to trickle out.
He did not start back across the causeway again. That had not been
his intention. Now that he was on the island, he would take a look
around.
The little area of rocks, he discovered, was even smaller than he
had calculated it to be from the opposite shore. Fifty steps, he
believed, would have measured its diameter. It was slightly conical
in shape, and seemed to be the peak of a hill pushed up through the
shifting sands.
On the top was the heap of boulders referred to by the man, who had
called from the island’s shore, as the “breastworks.”
To penetrate directly into the breastworks would have meant instant
discovery by Bascomb and Bernritter. To avoid this, and yet develop
some information that might later prove useful, the scout began
crawling around the island’s shore on his hands and knees.
This maneuver presently brought him to the side of the island where
the moonlight lay full upon the rocks. What he saw in the moonlight
gave him a start.
By a boulder, just below the breastworks, sat a woman.
Her hands were lying in front of her in her lap, and the scout could
see that they were bound. Her ankles, stretched down the flinty
slope, were also bound. In addition to these cords, a rope was tied
about her waist and passed around the boulder.
After the first flush of surprise, a fierce anger against the
miscreants who could treat a woman in such a way arose in the scout’s
breast.
The prisoner, of course, was Annie McGowan. And it was the man
she supposed she was going to marry who had brought upon her this
humiliation and danger!
Muttering to himself, Buffalo Bill arose softly to his full height
and peered about him.
From behind the boulder breastwork he heard a sudden mumbling of
voices.
Bascomb and Bernritter were there!
If they two were alone on the island with the girl, the daring notion
ran through the scout’s brain that he might be able to effect a
rescue.
Farther along the moonlit shore he could see clumps of brush and
could hear the trampling of horses. But he could see no other men.
Whatever he did, the scout realized must be done quickly.
Giles was supposed to be transporting the supplies from the main
shore to the island; unless those back of the breastworks heard
sounds indicative of such labor, their suspicions would be presently
aroused.
Dropping to his hands and knees, the scout crept up behind the bound
girl. Her head was bowed and she did not hear his approach.
To avoid a possible alarm which the girl’s surprise might cause
her to give, and which would effectually block the scout’s game of
rescue, he reached forward and clasped one hand over the girl’s lips.
She straightened her shoulders suddenly and tried to scream, but the
hand over her mouth stifled the sound.
“Don’t make any noise,” whispered the scout in the girl’s ear. “I am
a friend, and am going to try and take you from the island. But, if
I succeed, you must not make any noise. Bascomb and Bernritter are
within a few yards of us, and if they heard what I was doing, they
would shoot. Do you understand? I am Buffalo Bill, and I have come
from your father.”
Whether it was the magical name of “Buffalo Bill,” standing for so
much of chivalry and daring throughout the West, or whether it was
the scout’s mention of her father, the girl became pacified at once,
and apparently plucked up courage and hope.
The scout removed his hand.
“Oh, take me away, take me away!” breathed the girl. “I will be
quiet--I will not make a sound--but get me away from this awful place
and these hateful men as quickly as you can.”
The sorrow and anxiety in the girl’s words went straight to the heart
of the scout.
Without taking time to reply, he pulled his knife from its sheath and
slashed it through the rope that bound the girl to the boulder, and
then through the bonds that secured her hands and feet.
Miss McGowan then attempted to stand, but her limbs, benumbed by the
bonds, would not support her weight.
Seeing how matters stood, the scout bent down and lifted her in his
arms.
Then, quickly and silently as might be, he started around into the
shadow of the island and stepped out on the causeway.
He had been obliged to make some noise, and to show himself very
plainly, but his daring work had not aroused the men behind the
breastwork.
Every step he now took across the slabs brought him and the girl
nearer the shore and safety.
But it was too much to hope for that he should get across the frail
bridge entirely unseen and undetected. Once more he was hailed
huskily from the bank.
“Giles!” roared the voice that had spoken before; “what the blazes
are ye kerryin’ off? All that plunder on the bank is to be toted over
here, and not----”
“The girl!” yelled a second voice front the island. “She’s gone.
Bascomb!”
A wild oath leaped from the lips of the man who had been yelling at
the scout, under belief that he was Giles.
_Sping, sping!_ came the vicious reports of a six-shooter.
The leaden bees buzzed on either side of the scout’s head, and Annie
McGowan’s arms clasped frantically about his neck.
“It ain’t Giles at all!” whooped Bascomb; “but it’s some other
meddlin’ whelp----”
“Rush after the fellow!” interrupted the frantic voice of Bernritter.
“All is up with us if he gets away! Stop him! The girl! We must not
let him get away with the girl!”
By that time the scout had reached the kegs and the boxes. Dropping
the girl down behind them, he crouched at her side and gave vent to a
mocking laugh.
“You fellows are close to the end of your rope!” he shouted. “It’s
Buffalo Bill that’s calling your game!”
The scout’s last word faded into the echo of a shot from one of his
forty-fours.
Bascomb and Bernritter had piled full-tilt out upon the island end of
the causeway, but the scout’s bullet, fanning the air close to their
heads, sent them back pell-mell into the shadow of the rocks.
“Buffalo Bill!” cried a voice from the direction of the valley.
“Here we are, Dell!” answered the scout. “If you come this way, be
careful. Bascomb and Bernritter are watching from the island, and
are ready to use their guns.”
Dell Dauntless, creeping warily along the shore to the pile of kegs
and boxes at the edge of the bubbling sands, came abruptly face to
face with her friend, Annie McGowan.
“Dell!” screamed the rescued girl tearfully.
“Annie!” cried Dell, her voice vibrant with the deep surprise that
surged within her.
For a moment the girls clung in each other’s arms, Miss McGowan
sobbing hysterically.
“There, there, Annie!” murmured Dell, in a soothing tone. “How do you
happen to be here?”
“Buffalo Bill came to the island and brought me away,” answered Miss
McGowan.
“Came to the island!” gasped Dell, dumfounded. “Buffalo Bill, did you
really go to the island and take Annie right out from under the noses
of Bascomb and Bernritter and the other men they had with them?”
“They had only one other man with them, Dell,” answered the scout,
“and I took care of that fellow before I started for the island.
There he lies, on the sand, within a yard of you.”
“But how did you do it?” cried the amazed Dell. “Are you a wizard,
that you could cross the quicksands and bring Annie away from the
island?”
“No,” laughed the scout, “I don’t happen to be a wizard. An
opportunity presented itself, and I took advantage of it. That’s all.”
“All!” murmured the girl. “Well, I should say it is enough. I can
scarcely believe----”
Again the scout’s revolvers barked, carrying a leaden warning to
Bascomb and Bernritter who, in desperation, had once more attempted
the causeway.
The two men on the island gave up their attempt on the shaking
bridge. Retreating to the protecting shadow of the boulders, they
began boring holes in the night with their bullets, seeking to injure
those behind the barricade of kegs and boxes.
Their efforts in this direction were vain. Slugs plumped into the
barricade, but failed to reach those behind it.
“It’s a case of the trappers trapped,” exulted the scout. “That trail
of boards is the only way for Bascomb and Bernritter to come from
the island, and one man can lie here, back of this barricade, and
keep them where they are. We’ll have them, and it’s only a matter
of a short time, at that. These kegs contain water, and the boxes
hold provisions; they are all the supplies Bascomb and Bernritter
have--and they are in our hands! Did you ever hear of a situation to
beat it, Dell?”
“Never!” laughed the girl. “You have turned the tables on the
scoundrels with a vengeance. But how did you ever do it, Buffalo
Bill? Tell me!”
The scout told her, talking to the girls but keeping his eyes on the
causeway.
Dell clapped her hands in applause of the scout’s daring and
successful efforts.
“No wonder they call you king of scouts, Buffalo Bill!” she exclaimed
admiringly. “Not one man in a thousand could have done what you have.”
“Bosh!” deprecated the scout. “Were these water-kegs and boxes of
provisions brought here in the buckboard, Miss McGowan?” he inquired
of the rescued girl.
“Yes. The man who drove the buckboard took them aboard at Phœnix.”
“Did he bring your trunk and hand-baggage?”
“No, there was no room. My baggage was left at a hotel in Phœnix,
and the man who drove the buckboard said that one of my father’s
freighters would bring them out.”
“You never suspected that anything was wrong, Annie?” queried Dell.
“I never suspected a thing, Dell,” replied Annie, “until we turned
off the Black Cañon trail to come here. Then I began to get nervous.
I demanded to be allowed to leave the buckboard, but the man only
laughed at me. I tried to jump, but he caught me and bound my hands
and tied me to the seat of the buckboard.
“When we got here I saw a man called Bascomb. He took me off the
buckboard and carried me out to the island. And there”--the girl
choked--“there I met--Bernritter!”
Dell put one arm around her friend’s waist.
“You know now,” said she, “something I have all along suspected, and
that is that Bernritter is a scoundrel. It is better that you should
have your eyes opened to that fact now, Annie, than later.”
“I suppose so,” answered Annie, in a tone of grief and sorrow, “but
it is a terrible thing to have your faith destroyed at one blow, as
mine was.”
“You’ll get over it,” reassured Dell. “Were you kindly treated on the
island?”
“Yes, although I was bound hand and foot and tied to a big stone. All
day long and most of the night I have been there, Dell,” finished the
girl, with a shiver, “and I had abundant time to think.”
“And your thoughts were far from pleasant, I’ll warrant. But, never
mind, Annie.”
“I had such a good time in ’Frisco,” quavered the distressed girl,
“and now to have it end like this!”
“Oh, well, it might have ended worse.”
“I want Buffalo Bill to understand that I am grateful for what he has
done----”
“There, there!” broke in the scout. “Your father, Miss McGowan, is a
good friend of mine, and I am glad fate put it in my power to serve
him and you in this way.”
“All I want, now, is to get to the mine.”
“You shall go there just as soon as we can get matters in readiness.
Guard the causeway, Dell, while I talk with our prisoner.”
Dell took Buffalo Bill’s position behind the foremost kegs and boxes,
her revolvers in her hands.
The scout, having appropriated Giles’ revolvers, took the bonds from
his limbs.
“I have nothing particular against you, Giles,” said the scout,
addressing the dazed man, “although you were one of the three who
captured Golightly and put him in the bear-trap and helped Hendricks
get away to Phœnix in McGowan’s buckboard. You are liable in the eyes
of the law, and you could be put through. Hendricks and Banks are
in my hands, but they gave me information concerning the rendezvous
of Bascomb and Bernritter, and, for doing so, I intend to give them
their freedom. You also have a chance to earn your freedom, if you
want to take advantage of it.”
“What’s the chance?” Giles asked eagerly.
“Can you go to the island and bring ashore the star-faced cayuses
belonging to McGowan?”
“Bascomb and Bernritter won’t let me, I reckon.”
“Bascomb and Bernritter are as good as in the Phœnix jail this
minute. If they make any more trouble it will go all the harder with
them. Go to the island and get the two horses. If the harness is on
the island, see that it is on the horses. Do this, and when I turn
Hendricks and Banks loose you can go with them.”
“Let me have one o’ my guns,” pleaded Giles.
“Nary a gun, Giles. You’ll have to do this with your bare hands.”
“Waal, here goes.”
Giles sprang to the causeway and started across. A bullet was
launched at him by Bascomb and Bernritter.
“Let up on that, you fellers!” howled Giles. “It’s me, Giles.”
“Come ahead, then,” called Bascomb.
Giles hurried on, and finally vanished in the shadows of the rocks.
“That will make three on the island,” said Dell, “and probably
Bascomb and Bernritter will be able to give Giles a weapon.”
“What if they do?” the scout answered. “With some one here to guard
the causeway, half a dozen men would be as secure on that island as
though they were locked in a cell. Giles may get the horses, or he
may not. We’ll see.”
Sounds of conversation floated across the bubbling sands from
the island, and it was apparent that Giles was telling how the
resourceful scout had accomplished his coup. Presently the voices
died away, and then, a little later, some one could be seen leading
two horses. The horses were in single file, Giles leading the first,
and the one behind tied to its mate in front.
“They’re letting the horses come without a word of protest,” remarked
the scout, peering warily at the approaching animals.
“They may be up to some job or other, Buffalo Bill,” warned Dell.
“They are,” returned the scout grimly. “Bascomb and Bernritter are
each walking on the off-side of one of the horses.”
The thump of hoofs on the boards, and the snorting of the horses,
drowned the footfalls of Bascomb and Bernritter, but the scout could
see their legs plainly under the horses’ bodies.
“Stop, Giles!” shouted the scout.
“Kain’t stop!” answered Giles, in a flutter. “If we stand still the
boards’ll sink under us. We got ter keep movin’. The hosses weighs
more’n what a man does.”
“I don’t like to see Bascomb and Bernritter coming across with you,”
shouted the scout. “Stand still, for I’m going to shoot.”
Giles gave vent to a terrified yell, but he halted. The scout fired,
and his bullet, passing under the body of one of the horses, seared
Bascomb’s leg.
Bascomb yelled and leaped back toward the shore of the island.
Bernritter followed him.
“Come on, Giles!” ordered the scout, “and come quick. Bascomb,”
he added, addressing the black shore of the island, “if you or
Bernritter do any more shooting, or make any more trouble, it will go
all the harder with you. You’re as good as captured, and you ought to
know it.”
A defiant shout was returned from the island; but neither Bascomb nor
Bernritter indulged in any more shooting.
“Leave the horses at the edge of the quicksands, Giles,” commanded
the scout, “and then go back to the island.”
“But ye said I was ter be free if I got the bronks!” demurred Giles
wrathfully.
“And I’ll keep my word,” returned the scout; “you’ll go free, along
with Banks and Hendricks, but not until I’m ready to let you. And,
until I _am_ ready, I’d rather have you on the island than here.
Careful, man! I’ve got you covered. Even if Bascomb or Bernritter did
give you a revolver, I’ll put a hole through you before you have a
chance to draw it. Get back to the island, I tell you!”
Giles, baffled and beaten, let go the bridle of the horse, stepped
upon the causeway, and returned to his former companions.