THE DEATH RIDERS.
“Have you met these Death Riders?” asked Mr. Doyle, after a brief
silence produced by the impressive manner in which Buffalo Bill had
spoken. “Have you had any personal experience with them?”
“Yes,” replied Buffalo Bill. “As chief of scouts I have assisted more
than once in efforts to hunt them down, but those efforts have not yet
been successful, although in three little skirmishes we have thinned
down the gang considerably. They have a great knowledge of the best
hiding places in the hills, and so have been able to elude pursuit.
“They have particular hatred of me, because of my efforts to hunt them
down, and they have sent me more than one message threatening my life.
Only six weeks ago Wild Bill and myself were caught by seven of them in
a narrow cañon, and we had a pretty close call.”
“What happened when you met them?” asked Mr. Doyle, looking at the king
of the scouts curiously.
“Oh, we managed to get away from them,” answered Buffalo Bill lightly.
“Why don’t you tell the story as I heard it from Wild Bill, Cody?” said
young Mainwaring. “He told me that he was knocked senseless after two
of the men were down, and that you killed the other five single-handed.
Isn’t that true?”
The knight of the plains was loath to admit this, for he had an almost
morbid dislike of anything that savored of boasting, but finally, under
the cross-questioning of the girls, he was obliged to confess that
Wild Bill had stated the facts.
“But the Shawnees are fully as dangerous as the Death Riders,” the king
of the scouts added. “Indeed, I think they are even more so. I’ve had a
good deal of experience of that tribe during my life on the plains.
“Unlike the tribe which is so nearly related to them--the Pawnees--they
have a most inveterate hatred of the white man, and they never lose a
chance of gratifying it.
“They’ve always been ugly neighbors for us, but since their present
chief, Evil Heart, has risen to power they have been worse than ever.
“They have not actually dug up the hatchet and declared war against us
at the present time, but there are nasty reports from our Pawnee scouts
that all is not right with them in their villages.
“They are talking fight all the time, and Evil Heart and the medicine
men are doing all they can to encourage it. I have had a good deal
to do with Evil Heart myself at various times, and we don’t like one
another much. I spared his life once when I had him in my power, and I
think it was a great mistake on my part.”
“Well,” said Mr. Doyle, setting his teeth grimly, “I am much obliged to
you, Colonel Cody, for this information, but I am afraid that I cannot
change my plans on account of it. The dangers which you mention seem,
to my mind, rather remote, and I should feel myself a coward if I were
to abandon my journey on account of them.”
Buffalo Bill looked at the two girls across the table, and thought
sadly that they were the ones who were likely to suffer through their
father’s obstinacy.
If the party with the wagon train had consisted only of men he would
have had nothing to say. They could have taken their chances, as men
should.
But the thought of the danger to which May and Gertrude would be
exposed worried him greatly. He was only too familiar with the tortures
which the Indians were accustomed to inflict upon helpless women or any
other white captives who might chance to fall into their hands.
Yet it was evidently hopeless to try to induce Mr. Doyle to change his
opinion and abandon his journey. The border king was a good reader of
faces and of character, and he could see quite clearly that there was a
strain of obstinacy in the old man’s nature which would make him reject
the best advice if it did not happen to coincide with his preconceived
opinions.
“How many men have you with your wagon train?” asked the scout.
“There are four of them, not counting Norfolk Ben,” replied the old man.
“What sort of men are they?”
“They are all old frontiersmen, who have been many journeys on the
overland trail.”
“Who is their boss?”
“An old man named Jake Wallace.”
“Jake Wallace! I know him well. He and I have hunted on the plains
together more than once. What did he say to you when you proposed to
make the trip at the present time?”
Mr. Doyle hesitated for a moment, for this question had struck home to
him.
“I must confess that he took very much the same view that you do,
Colonel Cody,” he finally said. “He told me that it was his business
to guide parties across the plains, and that he liked to get all the
jobs he could. But he added that he could not reconcile it with his
conscience to let me go along with my daughters without giving me a
warning.
“He did not tell me what you have said about the Shawnees and the
Death Riders, but he gave me to understand that the territory was
particularly disturbed and dangerous just now.”
“And in face of that--in face of these two warnings you have received
from men who are in a position to know--you will persist in this mad
journey!” cried Buffalo Bill, rising to his feet and facing the old
man, with a look of anger on his face.
Mr. Doyle and the others looked at him in surprise, so carried beyond
himself was he by his indignation at the thought of the peril to which
the girls might be recklessly and needlessly exposed.
May and Gertrude were quick to reply to him. They were both angry at
what they thought was an insult to their father.
“You are surely forgetting yourself, Colonel Cody!” cried May. “My
father is quite able to judge what is best. He is quite able to take
care of us. I know you are experienced in regard to these matters,
but I think you are exaggerating the danger. In any case, if we have
decided to go on we will go on in spite of all your Shawnees and
outlaws.”
Gertrude was briefer in her retort, but certainly not less explicit.
“I think you are just horrid, Colonel Cody!” she cried.
Then she got up from the table and swept indignantly out of the room,
followed by her sister.
Their father looked after the two girls quizzically as they went out.
“You must excuse them,” he said, turning apologetically toward Buffalo
Bill. “I am sure I don’t deserve it, but as a matter of fact they
idolize me, and when you questioned my judgment you touched them on a
sore point.”
“They are quite right,” said Cody. “I assure you, sir, that I have no
grievance in the matter. But I beg you, none the less, to think over
what I have said, and to do what I suggest, if you feel that it is
possible.
“In any case, if you resume your journey call at Fort McPherson on your
way, and no doubt the commandant will supply you with an escort of
troopers to conduct you beyond the danger zone.”
“That is not a bad idea,” replied Mr. Doyle. “But I do not feel that I
can abandon my journey.”
Buffalo Bill, seeing that nothing further could be done, in view of the
obstinacy of the old man, now hastened to change the subject, and the
talk ranged over a variety of topics connected with frontier life and
with Mainwaring’s experiences in Texas.
In the course of the conversation Mr. Doyle begged that Buffalo Bill
and Mainwaring would join his party, so long as they happened to be at
Danger Divide.
He did not expect, he said, to be able to get away for two or three
days, and he and his daughters would be very glad to have their society
while they were staying there.
The old gentleman was perfectly sincere in this invitation, and his
motive was not altogether unselfish.
The other inhabitants of the place were of a rough type and repugnant
to his polished nature, and he was delighted at the prospect of the
society of men with whom he felt he had something in common.
Buffalo Bill, feeling that some protection was needed for the party
under the circumstances, accepted the invitation, and Jack Mainwaring
gladly did the same, because he desired, above all things, to have the
chance to improve his acquaintance with May.