A PRECIPICE STRUGGLE.
About an hour after sunset they started, riding slowly and scouting
carefully to see that none of the Cave Dwellers was on the watch. It
was two days after full moon, and they had therefore as many hours to
reach the foot of the cliff before it rose.
An hour was more than sufficient to travel the distance. They therefore
rested for a time, after darkness set in, before they started. Then
they swam the river on horseback, and made their way noiselessly along,
keeping at some distance from the river bank, until they reached the
place where the cliff rose perpendicularly.
They pressed on, keeping close to the base of the rocks, until they
arrived at the place which Buffalo Bill had decided upon as the easiest
at which to make the ascent. Then they lay down among the bowlders at
the foot of the wall of rock, and remained there until the moon rose,
for it was impossible to attempt such a difficult and dangerous climb
in the darkness.
While they waited they discussed the best way of getting the lariat
rope up, for it was obvious that whether it was carried in a coil over
the shoulder or wound around the body it would hamper the movements of
the climber.
At last Buffalo Bill solved the problem by putting a ball of twine in
his pocket and saying that he would throw it down from the ledge when
he got up, so that the lariat could be tied to it and then pulled up.
“Good luck, pard!” said Wild Bill, as the border king prepared to
start, and both he and Nick Wharton gripped their friend by the hand,
while Eagle Eye laid his hand on his shoulder, saying: “Ugh, heap
brave!”
The ascent was comparatively easy for a short distance. Then Buffalo
Bill came to the first of the ledges he had noticed.
It was only about ten inches wide, but, keeping his face to the rocky
wall, and using his hands to grip the most trifling irregularities in
the smooth surface, or to get a hold in small crevices, he managed to
make his way along until he arrived at a bulge in the wall which seemed
to effectually bar further progress.
Buffalo Bill drew his bowie knife, bent forward, and cut a hole in
the rock just large enough to rest his feet in. Thus, gaining a step
forward, he cut another foothold, and so went on until he had got round
the projecting rock at a frightful risk, and gained a secure footing on
the next ledge.
But this ledge narrowed rapidly as he passed around it. He was now at
one of the points which had appeared to him to be the most difficult,
for, as he had looked up from the ground in the afternoon, the ledge
seemed almost to cease, while the next one above it was also so narrow
that he doubted whether he could obtain standing room upon it.
The scout now made his way along on tiptoe, in imminent peril of
falling down the face of the cliff with every step.
In some places the ledge was not more than three inches wide.
After he had gone about thirty feet it widened, and the next forty or
fifty feet upward were comparatively easy, for the rock sloped to some
extent inward, and there were many fissures in which he could get a
tight grip with his strong fingers.
Then came several difficult places, but he was now thoroughly
confident, and he attacked the rocky wall with the utmost daring. At
last he reached his goal and drew himself up on to the broad ledge that
led to the caves.
None of the Cave Dwellers were in sight, and he flung himself down on
the ground and rested for a few minutes, for he was utterly exhausted
by his difficult climb, which not one man in a hundred thousand could
have accomplished safely.
As soon as he felt refreshed by his brief rest he took the ball of
twine from his pocket and flung one end, weighted by a bullet, over the
side of the cliff. He knew that he had allowed ample length, and he
drew it in until he felt a slight strain, followed by three jerks--the
prearranged signal.
His friends below had hold of the string. Two more jerks told him that
they had fastened the lariat rope to it, and in a couple of minutes he
had the rope in his hands.
The scout found a big rock jutting out of the ground in the path, and
he tied the rope firmly around it, and then shook the rope to show that
he was ready for the first Indian to ascend.
Two pulls upon the lariat told him that the man had been tied on,
and he began at once to haul. He found the weight much less than he
expected. Not only was the Navaho a short and wiry man, but he used
his hands and feet with such good effect that in about five minutes he
stood beside Buffalo Bill.
“You can haul up the next man, while I go forward and reconnoiter the
cave,” said the border king.
The Indian nodded, and immediately signaled with the rope for the next
man to be tied on.
Buffalo Bill meanwhile stepped forward cautiously along the ledge until
he came to the wide entrance of the principal cave. As he approached
it, a short figure rose up from behind a rock. It was one of the Cave
Dwellers keeping vigilant watch.
Before the man could utter a yell, Buffalo Bill had gripped him tightly
by the throat, so that he could only gurgle feebly. Yet he managed to
draw his tomahawk and raise it above his head to dash out the brains of
the king of scouts.
Taking his right hand from the man’s throat, which he still held
tightly gripped with the left, Buffalo Bill caught his wrist and
wrenched away the weapon. He struck the Cave Dweller a heavy blow on
the head with the flat of the blade, which knocked him senseless.
The border king then stepped swiftly into the cave. He could see
several recumbent forms lying on the ground, and from the back of the
cave there came a confused hum of voices. The light of the moon shone
full into the entrance, and the place was almost as light as day.
The intruder had not taken more than a few paces when he stumbled
against a body lying in the shadow. The man arose and bent forward into
the moonlight, uttering a low cry of surprise.
Buffalo Bill raised the tomahawk, but before he could use it he saw
that the man was none other than his blood brother, Red Cloud, the
Navaho chieftain.
Without a word Red Cloud extended his hands, and Buffalo Bill saw that
they were bound together by a rawhide rope. He drew his bowie knife and
cut the bonds, and then handed the Indian the tomahawk which he had
taken from the sentry at the mouth of the cave.
Red Cloud rose to his feet and eagerly gripped the weapon. “I expected
you, my brother,” he said simply.
The cry which the Indian had given when Buffalo Bill stumbled against
him had aroused one of the Cave Dwellers sleeping near by. He was, as
it appeared afterward, the chief of the tribe, and he raised his body
on his elbow and glanced around suspiciously.
His eyes fell upon Buffalo Bill and Red Cloud, and he instantly leaped
to his feet, with a frightful yell of rage and warning.
In a moment the cavern was alive with the forms of the Cave Dwellers,
wakened from their sleep, while those who had been talking at the back
also ran forward. All this had happened in a much shorter space of time
than the telling takes. The rest of the attacking party had not yet
come up, and the blood brothers were in the most deadly peril.
The chief of the Cave Dwellers rushed forward, and in a moment was
locked in a death grapple with the border king on the ledge at the
mouth of the cave. As the rest of the band came forward, Red Cloud
advanced a pace or two to meet them.
Buffalo Bill and the chief of the Cave Dwellers struggled on the edge
of the precipice, locked in a deadly embrace; while the brave Navaho,
tomahawk in hand, kept the other Indians at bay.
Although he was a man of small stature, the savage chief possessed the
strength and ferocity of a giant ape. He strove to throw Buffalo Bill
over the cliff, and in his rage he cared not whether he went over with
him.
To and fro they swayed, and it seemed as if they must go down to death
together, locked in one another’s arms. But with a mighty effort
Buffalo Bill overpowered the savage, raised him from the ground, and
flung him sheer over the cliff, making a quick turn on his heel as he
did so, in order to avoid being carried over himself by the impetus of
the falling body.
He had got rid of his dangerous adversary none too soon, for the Cave
Dwellers were attacking Red Cloud with great ferocity and would have
overpowered him in another moment, although he was making fine play
with his tomahawk and had stretched two of the savages dead at his feet.
Buffalo Bill drew his six-shooter and speedily dropped three of the
foremost Cave Dwellers. But the rest pressed on to the attack, and the
blood brothers had to battle for their lives more desperately than
either of them had ever done before, accustomed though they were to
wild adventures.
“The last shot, Red Cloud!” gasped Buffalo Bill, after a few moments
of rapid firing, as he thrust his second six-shooter into his belt and
drew his bowie knife.
The Cave Dwellers, demoralized by the rapidity and accuracy of his aim,
had retreated a few paces; but they were getting together again for
another rush. The doom of the blood brothers seemed to be sealed.
But just as the Indians rushed forward Wild Bill, Eagle Eye, Nick
Wharton, and a couple of Navaho braves charged to the rescue round the
ledge and into the cave. They met the Cave Dwellers with a volley of
shots and drove them back into the recesses of the cavern.
Realizing that their only chance of life was to cut their way out
through their enemies, the savages soon rallied to the attack, and
several minutes’ hard fighting followed. But Buffalo Bill’s party
managed to hold the entrance until reënforcements came up, for Eagle
Eye had left a couple of braves at the rope to draw up the rest.
It was a fight to the death. The Cave Dwellers refused quarter, and in
the end only three or four of them managed to escape down the zigzag
path.
Red Cloud and his warriors took many scalps that night, and there was
much rejoicing in the Navaho village on their return, for they had
not lost more than half a dozen braves in the fight and had utterly
annihilated their troublesome neighbors.
Buffalo Bill had escaped from one of the fiercest fights in his
experience without a scratch, and Wild Bill and Nick Wharton were also
unwounded.