BUFFALO BILL’S VOW.
In a log cabin in Bonita, the king of scouts sat in consultation with
Captain Markham. Outside the cabin, in the shade, a reserve force of
Pima scouts were lolling and smoking cigarettes.
A stir of activity filled the camp. Couriers were coming and going
between Bonita and Bowie, and scouting-parties and squads of troopers
were departing and arriving.
Buffalo Bill’s face wore a heavy frown. News had come from Fort Bowie
the evening before relative to the escape of Geronimo and his bucks
from the reservation at Apache, and also of the annihilation of
Bascomb’s escort and the rescue of Bascomb.
The scout, in charge of a picked party, had at once taken the saddle.
The entire night had been spent in the hills, but in spite of every
effort not one of the renegades had been apprehended, and not a
“sign” had been picked up.
“Of course,” said Captain Markham, as he and the scout sat in the
cabin that morning, “Geronimo will head this way, killing and
stealing and burning a trail toward Mexico. It’s his old game. Once
he gets across the border, Heaven only knows when we’ll catch him.”
“I’m less concerned about Geronimo,” returned the scout, “than I
am about my two pards, old Nomad and Little Cayuse. Bascomb”--the
scout’s eyes glittered--“has made us plenty of trouble. I’ll have him
back. You hear that, Markham? I’ll never rest until I lay hands on
the scoundrel and land him in the strong room at Fort Apache.”
“You’ll have a job of it, Cody. Bascomb seems to have curried favor
with the Apaches, and it’s ten to one that he’s with Geronimo this
minute. You know Geronimo--a regular firebrand, and wily as a
side-winder. He’ll crow-hop on every reservation but his own, and all
the while he’s here, there, and everywhere, like the Irishman’s flea.
Now you see him and now you don’t. Next time he’s captured he ought
to be shot.”
“I’ll get Bascomb!” averred the scout.
“I suppose your pards are done for?”
Buffalo Bill got up and walked to the door. What he felt he hid by
turning his back on Markham. For a moment he stood in the doorway
looking out at the Pimas; then he went to a bucket, took a drink from
a gourd dipper, and went back to his chair opposite Markham. His face
was expressionless, except as to the eyes--they flashed like steel.
“I’ll get Bascomb!” said he, his voice vibrant with resolution. “If
he’s with Geronimo, I’ll take the two of them. As for my pards, game
old Nick and the loyal little Piute, if they’ve crossed the divide,
that runs up a personal debt which I owe the renegades, particularly
Geronimo.
“You know what it is, I reckon,” he went on, dropping his voice, “to
share the same blanket with a man year in and year out; to scout with
him at your side; to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in more
fights than you can count; to find him at all times a pard to be
depended on for sand and sagacity; and----” He broke off curtly. “I
don’t need to tell you what the loss of Nick Nomad means to me, or
the loss of Little Cayuse.”
“No,” returned the captain sympathetically, “you don’t need to tell
me, Cody. The fortunes of war are hard on a man sometimes. You say
you’ll get Bascomb, and I hope----”
An orderly, his clothes dusty with alkali, showed himself in the
doorway and saluted.
“Come in, Carter,” said Markham. “What’s to pay? Anything new?”
“One of our Apache scouts has jest come in, sir,” answered the
orderly. “He reports having been captured by Geronimo, quirted and
sent back to Bonita with a message.”
“Send him in,” ordered Markham. “These Apache scouts,” he added to
Buffalo Bill when the orderly had vanished, “may be depended on, or
they may not. It’s a doubtful point.”
“When fighting Geronimo,” counseled the scout, “it’s well to look
with suspicion on what an Apache says. Only the Pimas are to be
depended on when fighting Apaches. Pimas have been foes of the
Apaches for a hundred years and more, and never a Pima has raised his
hand against a white.”
Just here the Apache came in. He wore a pair of blue overalls,
fastened to his waist with a piece of rope. His shoulders were bare.
Standing silently before Markham and Buffalo Bill for a moment, he
turned slowly and exhibited his back. Great, livid welts crossed and
recrossed the coppery skin.
“Well!” exclaimed Markham, as the Apache faced about. “So you were
captured by Geronimo, were you, Chico?”
“_Si_,” snarled the red man.
“Where?”
“Blind gully off Tres Alamos Gulch.”
“Fifteen miles away!” muttered Markham. “When was this?”
“Last sleep.”
“When were you released?”
“Mebbyso, hours, so many.”
Chico lifted four dirty fingers.
“How many bucks with Geronimo?”
Chico thrust both hands into the air ten times.
“A hundred, eh? He’s got most all of those who jumped the reservation
with him under his wing. Did you learn anything?”
“No; but Geronimo he send this, with message for Pa-e-has-ka.”
Chico dipped one hand into the pocket of the overalls and brought out
a pair of rusty steel handcuffs.
“Thunder!” muttered Markham. “What trick is the sly old scoundrel up
to now? Why did he send those to Buffalo Bill?”
Laying the handcuffs on the table, Chico groped about in the depths
of his pocket and brought forth a small key, which he laid beside the
iron bracelets.
“Geronimo say he take um handcuffs from Bascomb, take um key from
dead pony-soldier,” explained Chico. “Geronimo say for Pa-e-has-ka to
take iron bracelets, then bymby Geronimo find Pa-e-has-ka and put um
on him. Geronimo make powwow before he turn Chico loose.”
The scout laughed grimly.
“If the old reprobate ever comes near enough to me to put those on,”
said he, “he’ll never live to enjoy the sight of me in the things.
They’re my bracelets, I reckon?”
“All same. Geronimo send um.”
Buffalo Bill took up the handcuffs and the key and put them in his
pocket.
“You _sabe_ Pa-e-has-ka’s pards, Wolf-killer and Little Cayuse?” he
asked.
“Me _sabe_”
“Did you see or hear anything of them?”
Chico shook his head.
“Probably the party that did the business for Bascomb’s escort
haven’t all joined Geronimo as yet,” suggested Markham.
“Probably not; although one must have joined, or Geronimo wouldn’t
have the come-alongs.”
“Are they the same cuffs that were put on Bascomb?”
“They look like them, but I wouldn’t take my oath that they’re the
same. When the man from Bowie met the escort and asked me to come
here, in view of possible Indian troubles, we hadn’t been long on the
trail to Apache.”
“I see.” Markham had got up and was buckling on his belt and army
Colts. “Coming with us, Buffalo Bill?” he queried.
“To the blind gully off Tres Alamos Gulch?”
“Sure. We’ll make a quick run of it. I don’t hope to find the
scoundrelly renegades there, but we may be able to pick up signs and
give them a run of it between here and the border. They’ll be trying
to head the fugitives off at Fort Huachuca, and there’s a chance--if
luck’s on our side.”
“Of course I’m coming,” answered the scout. “There’s a chance, as
you say. Let’s make the most of it. You’ll take Chico?”
“Naturally. If he’s running us into any sort of a trap, he’ll be
along to enjoy it with the rest of us. _Sabe_ the burro, Chico?”
The Apache nodded sullenly, hunched his shoulders and rubbed his
lacerated back gingerly.
“He’s straight goods,” muttered Markham, “and I’ll gamble on it.”
“His back is no proof he’s not talking with two tongues,” returned
the scout. “He’d cut himself up worse than that to help Geronimo, if
he’s at all inclined to be treacherous.”
Calling Carter, Markham shot orders at him with the rapidity of a
Gatling. A few minutes later and fresh activity was added to the stir
of the camp. The bugle called, and troopers made a run for their
mounts.
As the scout and the captain were preparing to leave the cabin, the
orderly once more presented himself.
“Despatches from Grant, sir,” he announced.
“From Grant, eh?” returned Markham. “Bully! The wire’s cut, and we’ll
be able to find out what Grayson is doing. Bring in the courier,
Carter.”
“He’s in a faint, sir, and they’re untying him from his horse.”
“Wounded?” demanded Carter.
“Badly--brush with the reds, sir. There’s a young woman with him----”
“Woman!” exclaimed the captain blankly.
“Yes, sir, and an Indian boy----”
Buffalo Bill waited for no more, but rushed from the cabin. The
Pimas, attracted by the excitement of fresh arrivals, had left
the shade and were clustered, with several troopers, about three
horses--a pinto, a white cayuse, and a big, raw-boned army mount.
From the latter the wounded courier was being lifted.
But the scout, for the moment, did not see the courier, his attention
being entirely taken up by the two who had come with the wounded
trooper.
“Dell!” cried Buffalo Bill, in amazement; “and Little Cayuse! Well,
here’s a bit of luck, anyhow.”
Dell Dauntless sprang toward the scout and caught him by the hand.
“It’s mighty good to see you again, pard!” said the girl, her blue
eyes dancing. “Before the military wire to Grant was cut, we got word
that Geronimo and some of his bucks had gone on a raid, that Bascomb,
the deserter, had been rescued, and that the escort with Bascomb had
all been killed. I knew you, and Nomad, and Cayuse were to return to
Fort Apache with Bascomb, and I was afraid that--that----”
The girl hesitated.
“That Geronimo had played a trump card and got rid of us, eh?”
finished Buffalo Bill. “I left the escort very soon after we had
quitted Phœnix, being summoned to Bonita on account of prospective
Indian troubles. Cayuse and Nomad stayed with the escort. The same
news that reached you also reached me, and I had begun to do a little
worrying about Nomad and Cayuse myself. But here’s the boy, as
chipper as ever! Do you know anything about Nomad?”
“No.”
“Does Cayuse?”
“He says Nomad was captured--but I’ll let him tell you, Buffalo Bill.”
“It’s a big surprise to see you, Dell,” the scout went on;
“especially to meet you here at Bonita. Why did you leave Grant?”
“You couldn’t expect me to stay there after Colonel Grayson had
received that message about Bascomb and the escort, could you?”
queried Dell artlessly.
Buffalo Bill drew back and stared at her.
“Why, what could you hope to do?” he asked.
“I didn’t know exactly; but, when you’ve got a pard in trouble, you
don’t loll around and take things easy, do you? And it isn’t your way
to keep clear of the scene of your pard’s trouble, is it?”
“Well, there’s a different set of rules governing the actions of a
_girl_ pard,” returned the scout, a twinkle in his eye.
“Not much there ain’t,” asserted Dell.
“What’s this?”
The scout touched the side of her blouse where the Apache bullet had
gouged a rent.
“That’s where a redskin paid me his compliments,” said Dell.
“And this?” The scout touched the brim of her hat.
“Another token of Apache esteem,” went on Dell. “One was made by a
bullet, and the other by an arrow.”
“Close!” murmured the scout.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” Dell answered lightly.
“Not many girls would come through a night trip from Grant, at this
time, with the same coolness you show. You’re a remarkable girl, Dell
Dauntless.”
“Only different,” smiled Dell. “It’s enough to put me in fine fettle
just to find you alive and hearty at this end of the trail. And we
have Cayuse, too, you see.”
“What’s the matter with the boy?” asked the scout, gazing
perplexedly at the little Piute. “He might come around and at least
say ‘howdy.’”
“He feels cut up and out of sorts, Buffalo Bill,” said Dell, with a
soft look at Cayuse.
“What about?”
“Ask him.”
Cayuse did not come near the scout, but hung around Navi, and
apparently gave the scout no more attention than if he had been a
thousand miles away. Nevertheless, not a move of the scout’s escaped
the boy.
When Buffalo Bill walked toward him, Cayuse turned his back, folded
his arms, and fixed his gaze on the opposite wall of the cañon.
“What’s the matter, Cayuse?” said the scout, laying a kindly hand on
the lad’s bare shoulder.
“Ugh! Cayuse free, Nomad prisoner.”
The Piute never shifted his eyes from the cañon wall.
“What of that?” proceeded the scout, instantly catching the drift of
the boy’s sentiments. “Better one free than both prisoners. When one
is free he can help to release the other. _Sabe?_”
“Cayuse run,” breathed the boy; “_run_, all same scared coyote.
Cayuse think Wolf-killer run, too, but not so. Wolf-killer captured.”
“I was afraid both you and Nomad had fallen, and I am glad to hear
that Nomad is alive, even though a prisoner. Little Cayuse has acted
like a true warrior in getting away and coming to tell me about
Wolf-killer. Pa-e-has-ka thanks Little Cayuse.”
The boy’s pride, thus oddly humiliated, began to recover. He turned
around face to face with the scout.
“Pa-e-has-ka think Cayuse did right?” he asked.
“Sure you did right, Cayuse,” averred the scout heartily “you did
the only thing possible under the circumstances. Don’t be foolish.”
“Bascomb wounded,” said Cayuse. “Hard for Bascomb to sit cayuse and
ride. Me know where Bascomb taken by ’Paches.”
“What?” demanded the scout, instantly on the alert.
The Piute repeated his words.
“Good! We’ll get Bascomb. Do you know where Nomad was taken?”
“No see um.”
“How do you know he wasn’t killed, then? How do you know he was taken
prisoner?”
“Me come back to place of ambush. Hunt over ground. Find um
pony-soldiers, no find um Wolf-killer.”
“Ah! What of Geronimo?”
“Him with Bascomb.”
“Where?”
“All same cave by Tonio Pass.”
“Here’s something to look into at once!” exclaimed the scout. “Come
into the cabin, Cayuse; you, too, Dell.”
The scout led the way into Markham’s headquarters.
Patterson had been carried into the cabin and laid in a bunk. While
a doctor was working over him, Markham sat at a table reading the
despatches that had just fallen into his hands.
“These are important, Cody,” said Markham, looking up. “Grayson tells
me what he intends to do, and what the commander at Apache intends
to do. Troops from both posts will look after the settlers and hem
Geronimo out of the north. Huachuca will guard the south. Somewhere
in between the two lines of troops Geronimo will be dodging--so our
chances to corner him in that blind gully are growing brighter.”
Markham shoved the despatches together, and locked them in a
despatch-box.
“How’s the courier, doctor?” he called.
“He’ll do, captain,” was the answer. “Two weeks in hospital will set
him on his pins again.”
“I’ll send a man to Bowie for the ambulance, and we’ll have him taken
there as soon as possible. He did a brave thing, and Grayson shall
know about it.”
A troop of mounted men galloped up to the door.
“All ready, captain,” called a voice from without.
“Come on, Cody,” said Markham, pulling on his gloves.
“Just a second, captain,” returned Buffalo Bill. “I have fresh news
regarding Geronimo, just brought by my two pards. Miss Dauntless,
Captain Markham--Buffalo Bill’s girl pard, Markham, and Buffalo Bill
is sure proud of her. Also Little Cayuse, my Piute pard.”
Markham vouchsafed Dell a passive glance, which quickly gave place to
one of admiration. He bowed. Then, turning, he caught Cayuse by the
hand.
“Glad the Indian boy is accounted for, at all events,” said he.
“Sorry I haven’t time to stay and talk, Miss Dauntless, for you’ve
got a story to tell which I’d like to hear. We can’t waste much time,
Cody,” he added to the scout. “That blind gully is fifteen miles off,
and the reds are fliers when they get started. What’s your news?”
“Cayuse escaped from the ambush the Apaches laid for the Bascomb
escort,” explained Buffalo Bill: “but, after his escape, Cayuse
scouted and followed the Apaches to Tonio Pass. Bascomb is wounded,
he says, and unable to travel. The Indians have him in the pass, and
Geronimo is with them.”
Markham started.
“Tonio Pass is dead away from Tres Alamos Gulch,” said he. “Geronimo
can’t be in both places. The boy must be mistaken.”
“I’d believe him before I would an Apache scout,” returned Buffalo
Bill.
Markham stood for a moment thinking.
“Perhaps you have more faith in the Piute than in the Apache,” he
said finally, “but my opinion inclines the other way. Cayuse is only
a boy, and a Piute at that. Likely enough he doesn’t know Geronimo as
well as Chico does.”
“Cayuse is the lad that gets my gilt, all the same.”
“I think the Tres Alamos trail the most promising.”
“Very good,” said the scout calmly. “Merely a matter of divided
opinions.”
“That’s all. Either of us may have the wrong pig by the ear, but that
remains to be seen. Are you traveling with me?”
“I’m going to the pass,” said the scout decidedly.
“Very well. It may not be a bad idea to cover both points. I can’t
spare many men for you, Cody, as I’m taking the bulk of the force
I have left here. A hundred bucks under Geronimo is a gang not to
be sneezed at, and there’ll be brisk work if we come up with them.
However, take Lieutenant Doyle and ten troopers, if you wish----”
“I’ll go it alone with my pards.”
“What? A girl and a boy? Think again, Cody.”
“I don’t need to, captain. If you knew the girl and the boy as well
as I do----”
“You’ve got a head of your own, and a way of your own about doing
things,” laughed Markham. “Do as you please. You’re welcome to any
Pimas I leave, even if you don’t want the troopers. _Adios_, and good
luck. Hope you find Nomad.”
Without waiting longer, Markham hurried out of the cabin, flung
himself into the saddle, gave orders relative to sending a courier
after the Bowie ambulance, then galloped away up the cañon at the
head of his troop.