WHARTON IN PERIL.
Buffalo Bill and his partner rode along swiftly and silently for
about half an hour, and saw no traces of the redskins. Then, as they
slackened their pace for a moment to breathe the horses, Wild Bill said:
“Gosh all hemlocks, Buffler----”
Buffalo Bill turned in the saddle and interrupted him.
“That’s Nick Wharton’s expression,” he said, “and I know what you are
going to say. You wish that old Nick was with us now, joining in the
fun. This certainly would be an adventure after his own heart.”
“I guess he’ll be buttin’ into it before we get through,” Wild Bill
remarked. “He was away at Fort Leavenworth a couple of weeks ago, so
I heard, and he must have known we were around this yer section. I
wouldn’t be surprised to run across him any moment.”
There is an English proverb that says: “Talk of angels, and you will
hear the flutter of their wings.” There is also another, which runs:
“Talk of the devil, and you will see his tail.” The truth of these two
adages was speedily made clear to Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill.
They relapsed into silence, each thinking of their old friend, and
rode forward over the prairie. They had not gone more than half a mile
before they saw, through the darkness, which was illumined only by the
pale light of the stars, a figure on horseback spurring toward them at
a terrific pace.
Instinctively they grasped their rifles and made ready for anything
that might happen.
In a few moments the figure drew up alongside, and they saw from its
ungainliness and general tattered and dilapidated appearance that it
was none other than that of their old friend Nick Wharton, of whom they
had just been speaking.
He was riding his old mare, who, as he often said, was “not much to
look at, but a holy terror to go.”
She was certainly tearing along at a great pace, but as she reached the
two scouts she stopped dead short and reared up on her haunches.
Old Nick brought her to the ground again by a single dexterous movement
of the reins. He recognized his comrades in a flash, but he did not
pause to exchange greetings. He merely gasped out the one word:
“Injuns!”
As he said this, Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill saw, coming toward them
through the darkness, half a dozen figures on horseback.
Silhouetted against the horizon of the prairie, they could see that the
figures were those of Indians, for their feathers and scalp locks were
plainly visible against the light of the stars.
As the Indians came up they were met with a volley from the scouts, and
three of them reeled in their saddles and fell to the ground.
Buffalo Bill and his companions were not accustomed to miss their aim.
The remaining Indians drew rein sharply, and gazed in blank
astonishment at their fallen comrades.
They had been chasing only one man, and suddenly they were brought face
to face with three magnificent marksmen.
As they sat on their horses, hesitating what course to pursue, the
rifles spoke again, and their hesitation was solved for them.
Never again would they roam the prairie or lift the scalp of an enemy!
“Darn all catamounts, but them varmints chased me nigh on six miles,”
said old Nick, as soon as he had time to make explanations. “I heard,
down in Fort Leavenworth, that the Injuns was goin’ on the warpath, so
I struck a bee line for Fort Larned, whar I knowed you two boys war.
“I guess you’ve had a hot time. As I was comin’ ’cross the prairie
I butted inter a hull army o’ Injuns, who seemed ter hev met with a
rough time. Somebody had thrown a scare into them, an’ I thought I
reckernized yer trade-mark, Buffler.
“Waal, I ducked under cover, and the most of them passed me by, but I
got up too soon, an’ ’bout twenty of ’em, comin’ along last, caught
sight o’ me, an’ give me a hot chase.
“My mare laid herself down to it noble, and I managed to shake off all
of ’em ’cept them six what’s layin’ over there in thar tracks now.
“But what sort of a game aire you two boys puttin’ up now? I guess
thar’s somethin’ doin’, ain’t thar?”
Buffalo Bill gave him a brief account of what had happened, and told
him that they had planned to reach Fort Hays and subsequently go down
to the country of the Navahos, if necessary, to try to prevent that
tribe from taking the warpath.
Old Nick was delighted at the prospect, and immediately insisted on
accompanying them.
“Gol-durn all fishhooks!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been buttin’ round Fort
Leavenworth for a couple o’ weeks, and thar ain’t been nothin’ doin’.
“I got into a bit of a dispute with a young lootenant, an’ I h’isted
him off the colonel’s verandy onto the ground. I thought sure he’d
want to hev my blood fer thet, but he merely obsairved thet I was an
unedicated person who didn’t know the proper rules of ettyket.
“Then I got into a mix-up with a couple o’ settlers. They was heeled,
all right, but ’stead of drawing their guns they walked ten miles to
the nearest sheriff to demand justice. When the sheriff come around, I
told him to fergit it, and he forgot quick enough.
“But this yer sort o’ business didn’t seem to make me popular around
the fort. The colonel was a bully good sort o’ a feller, but at last he
hinted that the place was sorter narrer fer my talents. So when I heerd
that somethin’ might be doin’ around Fort Larned I saddled up and came
to find you boys.”
“You certainly need Hickok and me to look after you, Nick,” said
Buffalo Bill, laughing heartily.
“I dunno how it is,” Wharton responded, heaving a sigh. “I’m jest about
the most peaceful critter on airth, an’ yet I always seem to be runnin’
inter trouble.”
The three scouts rode on for some time, chatting about their former
adventures and the chances of the present campaign, until they had
covered about half the distance between the two forts.
Then, as they crested a hill and looked down into a wide-stretching
valley beyond, they saw half a dozen camp fires gleaming through the
darkness about two miles away.
They reined up their horses sharply, and held a council of war.
“Those must be the Indians we fought,” said Buffalo Bill. “They have
stopped their flight and gone into camp until morning.”
“What shall we do?” asked Wild Bill. “Shall we make a detour and pass
by them, about a mile away, so as to be out of touch of their scouts
and sentries; or shall we creep in on them, and see if we can learn
anything of their plans? The chances are they are discussing them
around the fire.”
Cody hesitated.
He knew that the carrying of the message safely to Fort Hays was of
the utmost importance, but on the other hand, he felt that a chance of
learning what the Indians proposed to do ought not to be missed.
“I tell you what we will do, boys,” he said, after a few moments’
thought. “Nick and I will creep into the camp and see what we can find
out. You know the Cheyenne and Sioux lingo, don’t you, Nick?”
Nick nodded.
“So do I. Hickok, you must take the dispatch and wait on horseback,
holding our two beasts at a safe distance. If they catch sight of us,
you mustn’t attempt a rescue. You must ride at top speed for Fort Hays.
We will shift for ourselves as best we can, but that message must be
carried, at all costs.”
“May I be scalped ef I leave you and Nick in the lurch!” exclaimed Wild
Bill.
“You must do it, if needs be, old pard,” urged the border king. “The
lives of many men, the peace of the border, the whole plan of campaign
depend upon that message reaching Fort Hays. I don’t suppose the
Indians will see us, but if they do you must ride the best you know, as
soon as you hear the first war whoop.”
The manner of the king of the scouts was so impressive that Wild Bill
at last agreed to do as he commanded.
They rode cautiously toward the camp fires, and as they approached they
saw that the encampment of the Indians was a very large one.
It had been established on the banks of a stream, and by a rough
computation Buffalo Bill estimated that nearly two thousand braves
were gathered there around the six fires.
Evidently the Indians had rallied after the first shock of the retreat
had passed; and they again constituted a very formidable fighting force.
About a quarter of a mile from the camp the three scouts drew rein
and dismounted, Buffalo Bill and Nick Wharton leaving their horses in
charge of Hickok.
“Don’t try to cut up the hull gang o’ them Injuns,” Wild Bill said, as
his two friends strode off into the darkness toward the camp fires that
twinkled ahead of them.