OFF FOR TONIO PASS.
“Tired out, Dell?” asked Buffalo Bill, whirling on the girl as soon
as Markham and his detachment had ridden away.
“Did you ever know me to be that?” the girl countered.
“I don’t think any one ever knew you to say so. Go to the cook’s
hang-out and get something to eat, you and Cayuse. Then come back
here and we’ll hold a powwow.”
“We can hold the powwow first, if you’d rather.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not to hurt.”
“Well, the horses are. Cayuse can put them out and then join you at
the chuck-shanty.”
Dell and Cayuse left the cabin. When they had gone, Buffalo Bill
walked over to the bunk where Patterson was lying. The doctor was
sitting at the head of the bunk watching his patient. The sergeant
had opened his eyes, and, as the scout came toward the bunk, kept
them on him.
“Buffalo Bill?” said Patterson.
“The same.”
“I’ve heard a lot about ye, but this is the first time our trails
have ever crossed.”
“Hope it won’t be the last time. It’s a pleasure to meet up with a
man like you. Sergeant, eh?” he added, his eyes on the diamond of one
of Patterson’s sleeves.
“Sergeant Patterson.”
“I reckon you had a hard time getting through with your despatches.”
“That’s the size of it. Wouldn’t have got through, either, but for
that girl pard of yours. Say, she’s a brick.”
“She is,” agreed the scout. “What did she do in your case?”
Patterson went into the matter at length, beginning with the way Dell
scampered off from Fort Grant. Then he followed the recital on down
to the fight, and the way Dell and Little Cayuse had brought him in.
The doctor interfered, once or twice, to say that Patterson was
talking too much. But Patterson wouldn’t stop until he had finished
all he had in mind.
“Certainly Dell should have stayed at Grant,” said the scout, “but
fate usually knows best when it takes such matters in hand and
regulates them. If Dell had stayed at the post, you’d be on the
hogback now minus your scalp; and Geronimo would have had Grayson’s
despatches. The wily old red would have given a lot to get hold of
those papers.”
Buffalo Bill went back to the table and seated himself. Ten minutes
later, Dell and Cayuse reappeared.
“Sit down now,” said the scout, “and give me the whole of this thing.
You first, Dell, and then Cayuse can open fire.”
Dell, as might be expected, glossed over her part in the night’s
doings, gave Patterson a lot of credit, and Cayuse considerably more.
Cayuse began his recital with an account of the disaster to Bascomb’s
escort.
He told how the escort, expecting no trouble, rode into the Apache
ambush; how a murderous fire opened upon the escort from right and
left; how Nomad, unhurt, turned to flee; and how he--Cayuse--thinking
Nomad would escape, gave attention to his own safety.
Outmaneuvering the Apaches, Cayuse went on to describe how he
skirmished back toward the scene of the ambush, hoping to find
Nomad; how he examined the slain and scalped soldiers, without being
successful in locating the trapper; how he picked up the trail of
the Apaches and followed them to Tonio Pass, saw the wounded Bascomb
lifted from his horse, and saw Geronimo personally superintending the
work of caring for the white renegade.
After this Cayuse started for Bonita to report to Buffalo Bill,
crossed the trail of more Apaches, and followed it to the hogback,
where he made such good use of his rifle in helping Dell and the
sergeant.
“All three of you distinguished yourselves,” said the scout; “you
acted just as Buffalo Bill likes to see his pards act. But, Cayuse,
I should like to know whether you are positive the Indian you saw at
Tonio Pass was Geronimo.”
“Heap sure,” declared the boy.
“You know him, do you?”
“Me see um plenty times when me belong with the army.”
“Very good. For some time, now, this deserter, Bascomb, has made us
a good deal of trouble. He had a few renegade Apaches with him, you
remember, in the hills around the Three-ply Mine. When we caught the
scoundrel on that island in Quicksand Lake, I was sure we had him at
the end of his rope; and I am about equally sure that Geronimo and
his bucks jumped the reservation in order to get Bascomb away from
the soldiers. If that is the case, then Bascomb is the man for us to
lay hold of. I have started on his trail, and I do not intend to hold
back until he is landed.
“Naturally, I am more anxious to rescue Nomad than to recapture
Bascomb, but this matter of Nomad’s is a point that puzzles me. If he
was really taken prisoner, as Cayuse thinks, what became of him? He
wasn’t with Bascomb and Geronimo; and, if Geronimo had him, it seems
odd he wouldn’t keep such a prisoner by him. Nomad is a captive the
wily old chief would be proud of.”
“Mebbyso Geronimo kill um Wolf-killer.”
This remark of Cayuse’s was a logical deduction, but the scout would
not accept it.
“No, Cayuse,” said he, “if Geronimo was going to put Nomad out of the
way, he’d have done it there on the scene of the ambush. Geronimo,
however, is sharp enough to understand that Nomad is worth more to
him alive than he would be dead. So we come back to the thing I can’t
understand: If Nomad is a prisoner, where is he? And why wasn’t he
taken to Tonio Pass?”
A silence of several minutes followed.
“As I figure the matter,” the scout resumed presently, “it amounts to
this: Geronimo, with all the troopers at Grant, Apache, Bowie, and
Huachuca against him, has none too many warriors. Evidently the chief
thinks a lot of Bascomb, and will take care of him, but the chief
can’t leave very many warriors for that purpose. Probably he will
leave two or three. So, if we ride to Tonio Pass and exercise a fair
amount of caution, we have a good chance of getting hold of Bascomb;
then, with Bascomb once in our hands, perhaps we can force him to
tell us where Nomad was taken. That is our cue. As soon as your
horses are able to take the road we’ll be off for Tonio Pass.”
“Silver Heels is ready now,” said Dell. “He’s all leather and
whalebone, and never gets tired.”
“Navi all right, too,” averred Cayuse.
“It’s not a piece of work, Dell,” said the scout, “in which you ought
to join.”
Dell threw back her head, and her face reddened.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Don’t make a mistake, little one,” laughed the scout, “for I’m not
cutting you out of this little surprise-party. I’m going to take you
along because I think it’s safer to take you than to leave you. This
camp is badly depleted of troops, and if Geronimo should take it into
his rascally head to come down on Bonita, there’d be a hot fight. For
that reason, in view of possible contingencies, I’d rather take you
with me than leave you here.
“And then, again,” he said slyly, “if I left you behind, Dell, you
might take the bit in your teeth just as you did at Grant. You
wouldn’t mind the colonel, and perhaps you wouldn’t mind me.”
“The sergeant must have been saying things,” murmured Dell.
“He couldn’t find words enough to tell me how much he admires you for
your daring and courage. However, we’ll let that pass. Wait here,
Dell, and Cayuse and I will go for the horses.”
As the scout and the Indian boy left the cabin, Dell moved over to
where the sergeant was lying. She wanted a last word with him before
she, and the scout, and Cayuse galloped out of Bonita.
“You know this country, Cayuse?” asked the scout, as he and the
Piute moved through the camp toward the place where the horses were
picketed.
“Wuh,” said Little Cayuse.
“You can take us to Tonio Pass without any trouble?”
“Sure.”
“In that case, then, I won’t take any of the Pimas as guides. The
smaller our force the more mobile it will be. Our foray is more of a
scouting-expedition than anything else, although we shall be prepared
to take care of double our numbers if we come to a show-down with the
renegades.”
The horses were saddled, bridled, and watered; canteens were filled,
and a day’s rations were secured at the chuck-shanty.
Silver Heels and Navi certainly looked fit enough for any kind of a
trail.
Lieutenant Doyle, second in command now that Markham was away, halted
the scout as he and Cayuse were riding for the headquarters cabin
with Silver Heels in tow.
“You’d better take a few of the boys with you, Cody,” he advised.
“You may need all the boys yourself, Doyle,” smiled the scout.
“Of course Geronimo is the sort of lightning that strikes where and
when least expected,” returned Doyle, “but I don’t think he’ll fool
with the military so close to headquarters. Anyhow, we can spare some
Pimas.”
“None for me. One Indian is all I’m going to take on this trip,” and
the scout laid a hand on Cayuse’s arm. “My Piute pard is worth a
dozen Pimas.”
“You’re too old a hand for me to tell you to look out for yourself.
You always do that, I reckon.”
“If I hadn’t, my scalp would have been hung up in a Sioux lodge years
ago.”
The scout and the boy rode on, halted at the door of the cabin, and
Dell came out and vaulted lightly into her saddle.
“Now,” said she, with a sparkle in her eyes, “we’re off for Tonio
Pass.”
Could the scout have foreseen what was to happen on that venturesome
journey, rather than take Dauntless Dell with him, he would have had
Doyle send her to Bowie under escort.
But, to quote Catamount Tom, the old hunter, “we can’t be so wise
all the time as we are just some of the time;” so the little party
galloped down the cañon on its way through the hostile country to
Tonio Pass.