THE DARING OF BILL BETTS.
“Vot iss?”
Nomad and his pards were guarding the camp, Baron von Schnitzenhauser
being on the side toward the town. Hearing something, he dropped
down, the characteristic question whispering from his lips, and
stared hard into the darkness.
The sound, which had been like that of crashing feet, had stopped.
The baron did not know but that an Indian had tried to come upon him,
though an Indian, unless intoxicated, would hardly have made so much
noise.
“Der Inchuns haf peen howling so mooch dot maype I am hearing t’ings
vhen dare aind’t notting to seen,” he muttered.
Then he heard the sounds again, unmistakable footsteps coming toward
him.
The baron lifted his forty-five revolver and poked it at the sounds.
“Uff you tond’t vant to gidt shodt you vill sbeak so quickness like I
dell you,” he commanded. “Who iss idt?”
“It’s me.”
“Yaw! Budt I tond’t know ‘me.’ Who iss ‘me’?”
“Dugan. That you, Schnitz?”
“Oh, idt iss Dugan? Der shepidy deriff--I mean der debudy sheriff.
Uff you ar-re sure dot you aind’t makin’ a misdake you may come on.”
When Dugan, deputy sheriff, came on, Schnitzenhauser discovered that
he had a man with him.
“I’m Hank Elmore, stage driver,” said the second man, reaching out
his hand to the German.
“You haf peen in more danger righdt now as in eeny holdt-oop,” the
baron told him; “vhen I gand’t seen you, I am come mighdy nigh
shooding you. Why you make der sneak?”
“Feared o’ the Utes,” said Elmore. “Where’s Cody? We was huntin’ fer
his party.”
“I am some uff his barty.”
“Yes, I know it; where’s the others?”
“Righdt ofer dhere. Nomat is vatching on der righdt site uff der
gamp, unt Vilt Pill on der lefdt, unt Pill Petts on der odder, unt
me here. Cody is scoudting roundt, unt saidt he vos going into der
willage. From der noises I haf peen hearing I t’ink, py yiminy, dey
musdt haf sbalped him alreaty.”
“Yit you stay right hyer?”
“Idt iss orders. Ve opey orders, uff somepoty gits kilt. Oddervise,
uff Cody iss nodt kilt unt comes py dhis blace, he tond’t findt us
here, unt dhere iss a mix-oop. Notting iss vorser as a mix-oop in der
night. You hav somepoty caming pehint you--huh?”
“Thar will be a crowd in the mornin’,” said Dugan. “I tell ye thar’s
the biggest skeer goin’ on down in Blossom Range as ever ye see,
’count o’ the Utes chargin’ that crowd and killin’ Shepard. I tried
to git a posse to come out to-night, but I couldn’t make it; nobody
had the sand. Elmore said he’d come with me, and we’re hyer.”
“Cody vill pe glad to seen you--yaw. He vants more men as he has got.”
“Where will we find the rest of your crowd?” asked Dugan.
“Go righdt aheadt. Vhen you have gone tventy yardts or so you petter
call oudt, mitout too mooch noise, so dot you don’t git shodt.”
They were about to move on.
“But, in attition,” said the German, “I vouldt pe bleased uff vun of
you couldt dake my blace standting here, as I am getting so mooch
exercise uff my mindt apoudt Cody dot I shouldt like to make an
inwestigadion. Tond’t vorgidt idt.”
They moved on, and soon he heard them speaking with Bill Betts and
Nomad.
In a little while footsteps rustled again, and the baron was about to
call out, when Bill Betts announced his presence and came forward.
“I’m gittin’ that worked up over the racket goin’ on in ther village
thet I want ter see what it means,” he said.
“Yoost der same here. Cody iss in drouble, unt I knowed idt.”
“Sounds like it, don’t it? What I’m most afeard of is that the bloody
Utes air murderin’ Gorilla Jake.”
“Unt maype Penson!”
“I don’t keer fer Benson. But Jake is my meat. Me and Brother Jim
wants that reward fer arrestin’ him.”
“Vale, you don’t can’t gidt it now, uff dhey kill him.”
“We might. I’d like to see about it. And as Cody must be havin’
trouble, I’d like you to go with me, so’s we two kin look into
things.”
The baron shook his head.
“Orders iss orders! I am commandedt to sday righdt here.”
“I know Cody said that, but Dugan is coming right over hyer to watch
at this p’int. He told me he would. I asked Nomad to go with me, and
he said he wouldn’t, though I could see that he was mortally skeered
up about Buffler.”
“You ditn’t ask Vildt Pill?”
“No.”
They were silent a moment, listening to the unearthly racket in the
Ute village.
“Thar’s another thing stingin’ me all up,” Bill Betts admitted.
“Vot iss?”
“I’m harborin’ ther oncomfortable feelin’ that Brother Jim is over in
that village.”
“He vendt to der town.”
“I have a feelin’ that he didn’t, and that he’s now in trouble. You
see, he’s as anxious as me to git hold of Gorilla Jake. I askt Dugan
and Elmore if they met up with him, and they said they didn’t.”
“Idt iss not proof dot he ditn’t go to der town.”
“I know it ain’t. But didn’t you ever have a presenterment, baron?”
“Many dimes, vhen I am asleeb; but odder beoples call idt a
nighdtmares.”
“It is a feelin’.”
“Yaw! Idt iss a offul veeling. I haf hadt him. Vonce diss nighdtmare
vot climbed indo my pedt vos redt all ofer, unt I hollered yoost
like a horse. I am sveadting yidt, venever I t’ink apoudt idt.”
“You don’t understand me, but it don’t make any difference; the
question is, will you go with me? I’m settin’ out right now for the
Ute village. Hyer is yer chance fer excitement, baron.”
The “excitement” appeal seldom failed to move Baron von
Schnitzenhauser. He would have been willing to rove half round the
world to find some unusual form of it. For a moment longer only he
hesitated.
“Dhis site uff der camp is avay frum der Inchuns, unt Dugan iss to
come here soon. Yaw! I will go mit you. I am dot anxious apoudt Cody
I gan’t standt idt eeny longker. Ledt der vays, unt I am mit you. As
for der Utes, raus mit ’em. Cody iss maype needting rescuink dhis
minude.”
Having made up his mind to accompany Bill Betts on this wild
excursion to the Ute village, the baron set out forthwith, tramping
at Betts’ heels with exceeding care. He had been wanting to see
for himself what was happening, for such infernal Indian yelling
he had never heard in all his wide experience. He was genuinely
anxious, too, about Buffalo Bill. He justified his disobedience of
the latter’s orders by this feeling of anxiety, though he knew well
enough that if Cody’s wish could be ascertained, Nomad would have
been selected to go to the village, if any one went at all. Buffalo
Bill trusted the old trapper as he did no one else except Wild Bill
Hickok.
No difficulty was experienced in keeping to a straight line--that
wild howling would have guided one through Stygian darkness. The only
thing was to guard against stumbling and falling. There was little
likelihood that they would be heard, because of the Indian uproar.
“Sounds like ther infernal regions has heaved themselves right out
upon the yearth,” Bill Betts observed when they stopped on nearing
the commotion and noise. “D’y’ ever hear anything like it?”
“Der nearest,” said the baron, “iss vhen my vife gif me a biece uff
her mindt der second day after ve ar-re marriet.”
“Wow! It must er been a heavy piece!”
“Vell, you haf heardt a door preaking down, unt a stick uff vood
hammering on idt. Dot vos my vife drying to gidt at me into der room
vare I haf run. Also-o, she vos yelling for der bolice.”
“You must have had a happy married life, Schnitz.”
“Yaw! Der fairst day idt voss vlatirons, der secondt day idt vos
proomsdicks unt rolling bins, unt der nexdt day idt----”
“Wow!” Betts broke in. “Lissen ter that. We’ve got to git nearer.”
“Nearer idt iss. I am mit you.”
They were not content until they were close up by the lodges. Then,
as they still could not see well enough, they crossed the line into
the village.
“Keep close by me, Schnitz, and be ready fer trouble and to cut and
run if we have to. See that lodge off thar? It’s whar the yellin’ is
fiercest. Sounds like killin’ men thar, don’t it? I have a ingrowin’
feelin’ that Brother Jim is clost about that spot.”
The baron, who had been stooping, stood up and stared off in the
direction indicated.
A leaping fire near it showed the lodge and the swarming, painted
Indians.
“Thar’s a temperance lesson fer ye!” said Betts. “Shows what whisky
will do.”
“Ach! Vhisky iss no goot.”
“I’m goin’ to git clost enough to see if Jim is in the midst of that.
You keep by me. Don’t fergit that I’ve got my umbreller gun. We’re
goin’ to git down now and sneak along behind it. Thar’s bowlders
big and little everywhars you look. Set this umbreller open on the
ground, and in this pore light you couldn’t tell it frum a bowlder.
We can take advantage of that fact; it’s why I like the old gun.
Besides, if anybody comes toward us, I can drap him with it, and
he won’t know whar the bullet come from. You jest keep close at my
heels.”
Slipping to the ground, Bill Betts spread open his umbrella gun, and
he and the baron got behind it.
The baron then saw that around the handle--which was the gun--where
it passed through the umbrella there were openings, so that through
them he and Betts could look out. Through those openings, also, Betts
could aim the gun.
“The old thing is chock-a-block with ca’tridges, as I call ’em,” said
Betts. “I kin mow down half a dozen reds without havin’ to reload,
and I got plenty more ca’tridges in my pockets. Now, we’ll git
closer.”
Pushing the open umbrella carefully ahead of him and moving slowly,
Betts made a cautious approach to the lodge where the howling Utes
were seen.
They were stopped in this perilous advance by seeing the rear of
the lodge break open suddenly and Gorilla Jake come rolling out,
dragging with him a number of Utes. Though he was painted like the
Indians, Bill Betts knew him at once.
“Wow!” Betts breathed. “See that--see it?”
“I am seening idt.”
“Thar he goes down, with Injuns right on top o’ him; they’re goin’
ter kill him. Would you open on ’em if you was me?”
The German caught Betts by the arm.
“Dond’t dooded idt!” he whispered. “Idt vouldt pe our finishment.”
“But they’re killin’ him, I reckon.”
“Yaw! Idt looks like idt.”
“And if they finish him, how am I to git that reward?”
“You von’dt gidt eeny uff idt, Misder Petts, uff you make a
foolishness mit yourselluf righdt now. I am vondering dot dey ton’dt
seen us.”
Then the German saw Tim Benson leap out of the lodge entrance and go
scampering in the other direction. Betts caught sight of him, too.
“Thar goes Benson,” Betts whispered, his hands shaking.
“Yaw! I seen him. Budt I ain’dt vanting to foller him dhis minude.
Vot I am loogking vor iss Puffalo Pill. You ton’dt seen Cody?”
“No, I don’t see him.”
They beheld the “finish” of Gorilla Jake, to the great grief of Bill
Betts. The Indians had killed the apelike man without mercy, simply
because he could not furnish them more whisky.
A little after that the two crouching behind the umbrella beheld the
scalp of the unfortunate man elevated on a lance before the lodge,
with the drunken Indians dancing and howling round it.
“Gives me the creeps!” commented Bill Betts. “I’m beginnin’ to think
that Jim didn’t come hyer.”
“Budt Cody dit!” whispered the German.
“Yit he may have got out before this happened.”
“Yaw, I am hobing so.”
Bill Betts’ keen eyes beheld sneaking forms near the outer lodges. He
stared at them. What had seemed but one man became suddenly two, when
the blanket round them dropped down.
“White men!” he gasped. “I’m betting one of ’em is Jim Betts. He’s
that reckless he’s allus runnin’ inter danger.”
“Unt der odder iss maype Cody, who is yoost as reckless. Now, you unt
me----”
“B’ jings, I believe they’re comin’ round this way. If one o’ them
men is Brother Jim I’ll roast him fer runnin’ hisself into danger
like this.”
The “bowlder,” which the umbrella seemed to be, began to move slowly
backward, the men concealed by it crawfishing toward the outer lodges.
“I hate dog-goned bad to have to go and leave Gorilla Jake!” said
Betts.
“Budt he iss dead.”
“I know it, but the reward said ‘dead or alive.’”
The reckless men did not get safely out of the village without
trouble. When they were still some distance from the outermost lodge
an Indian dog came toward them, sniffing. Suddenly the dog began to
bark.
“Freeze!” said Betts.
“Yaw! I am a piece uff ice.”
An Indian appeared and called to the yelping dog.
“Wow! See that?” whispered Betts.
“I am hearing idt.”
Encouraged by the Indian, the dog made a barking rush at the dark
umbrella.
“The Injun thinks this is a bowlder,” said Betts, “but the dog knows
better.”
“Yaw! He knows idt mit his nose.”
“Shall I let him have it?”
The dog settled the question by making a furious rush upon the
bowlder.
The finger of Bill Betts clutched round the stock of the umbrella
handle in a nervous grip; a dull click sounded, and the dog, yelping
its last, fell dead in its tracks.
The Ute stared in wildest astonishment, then ran to the dog, which
was thirty feet or more from the bowlder.
“Now he vill gome on unt seen us,” whispered the German.
The mystified Indian, after stooping for a moment over the dog,
advanced toward the “bowlder,” probably thinking some one was behind
it, yet puzzled because he had heard no gun.
The dull click sounded again, and the Indian reeled backward with a
yell, his right arm dropping at his side. He yelled again; then began
to run toward the dancing Indians.
“The bowlder’s got to move back ag’in,” said Bill Betts. “Ye’re
seein’ now the uses of a gun what don’t seem ter be a gun. I reckon
this ole umbreller has saved more’n a dozen lives fer me; I’d been
killed that many times if I hadn’t had it.”
“Vun more life idt haf safed you to-nighdt--huh?”
“You bet you! Hitch back fast’s ye kin, Schnitz; thar’ll be more
Injuns whar that’n stood in a little while. He’s reached the dancers
and is spreadin’ the news thar.”
Some of the dancers stopped their whirling and howling and began to
run toward the spot where the dog had been killed and the Ute had
received a shattered arm. The injured Ute led the way, holding his
bleeding arm with his left hand.
“Now we haf got to make der slide.”
“Yes, it’s a lively skedaddle fer us. Up goes ther umbreller. Now,
jump fer it.”
The umbrella closed with a snap, and the two men whom it had
concealed sprang to their feet and beat a hasty retreat out of the
village before the staring eyes of the astounded Utes.
But the Utes, getting their wits together, followed, howling like a
crazy mob.
As the baron and Bill Betts leaped into the darkness beyond the
farthest lodge they heard the voices of Buffalo Bill and Jim Betts.
“Right this way,” said the scout.
“Come a-b’ilin’, Brother Bill!” Jim Betts called.
The four men came together, then beat a quick retreat.
Before the camp was reached the Betts brothers were quarreling, each
charging the other with foolish recklessness.