THE GRAVE AT THE DESERTED CAMP.
Two men had met in the remote wilds of the Grand Canyon country, as the
district bordering upon the Colorado River was called, having appointed
a mysterious, deserted camp as a rendezvous.
One of these men needs no description from my pen, hardly more than a
passing pen introduction to say that he bore the name of Buffalo Bill.
He had come alone from Fort Faraway, to the deserted camp over a hundred
miles from the nearest habitation, to meet a new-found friend, one known
in Last Chance Claim as Doctor Dick, and a man of mystery.
The latter was, in person, almost as striking in appearance as was
handsome, dashing Bill Cody, for he was tall, sinewy in build, graceful,
and dressed in a way to attract attention, with his cavalry-boots, gold
spurs, corduroy pants, velvet jacket, silk shirt, and broad black
sombrero encircled by a chain of gold links.
Doctor Dick was not afraid, either, to make a lavish display of jewels.
His weapons were gold-mounted, as was also his saddle and bridle, and
from the fact that he was an ardent and successful gambler, and was
supposed to be very rich, he was called in Last Chance The Gold King.
Doctor Dick had made his debut into Last Chance mining-camp, by bringing
in the coach, one day, with the dead body of the driver on the box by
his side, and two murdered passengers on the inside.
He had run off, single-handed, the road-agents who had held up the
coach, and therefore became a hero at once, adding to his fame very
quickly by showing that he could "shoot to kill" when attacked.
Signifying his intention of practising medicine and surgery in Last
Chance, and gambling in his leisure moments, Doctor Dick had established
himself in a pleasant cabin near the hotel, to at once become popular,
and began to make money.
When Buffalo Bill went to Last Chance on a special secret-service
mission, to investigate the holding up of the coach, and had recognized
there a deserter, whom he had orders to take "dead or alive," Doctor
Dick had helped him out of what appeared to be a very ugly scrape, and
thus the two men had become friends.
Becoming confidential, Doctor Dick had told the scout a few chapters of
his life, and he alone doubted that his foe from boyhood, Sergeant
Wallace Weston--who had been reported as dying in the desert while
seeking to escape--was dead, and the two, the scout and the
gambler-doctor, had arranged to meet at the deserted camp and discover
if the real truth could not be ascertained.
So it was at the deserted camp they had met, and Doctor Dick had stood
with uncovered head before a quaking aspen-tree, at the foot of which
was a grave.
Upon the tree had been cut a name and date, and this told that there lay
the form of Hugh Mayhew, killed in a duel by one whom he had wronged.
It further told that Hugh Mayhew was known in the mines as a desperado,
whose cruel deeds had gained for him the sobriquet of Black-heart Bill.
Convinced that the body in the grave was that of Hugh Mayhew, after he
had unearthed the remains, and recognized in that decaying form his once
brother--one of the triplets--Doctor Dick had seemed deeply moved when
he told that he was the last of the trio and lived to avenge them: that
he was sure Wallace Weston, their old foe, was their slayer, for he knew
from the scout that he had killed his brother Manton at the fort, and
hence he would not be convinced that the grave in the desert of Arizona
held the body of Weston until he had certain proof of it.
"That man who came to your rescue, who called himself the Hermit of the
Grand Canyon, who sought to shun you after his service to you, is either
Wallace Weston, or knows something of him, and it is his trail we must
pick up on his return to his retreat, and follow to the end, before I am
satisfied," Doctor Dick had said to Buffalo Bill.
And so it was that the two had met at the deserted camp to pick up the
trail of the hermit and follow it to the end, bring what it might to
Doctor Dick.
The trail was taken up and followed to the brink of the grandest view in
all nature's marvels, the Grand Canyon of the Colorado.
To a less experienced scout than Buffalo Bill, there would have appeared
to be no trail down into the depths of that mighty chasm, and it would
have been thought that the one whom they trailed had retraced his steps
from there.
But the scout was not one to be thrown off the trail by any obstacle
that perseverance, pluck, and hard work could overcome, and so he set
about finding a way down into the canyon, though there was no trace of a
traveled path left on the solid rocks upon which he stood.
Doctor Dick's determined assertion that he did not believe his old
enemy, Wallace Weston, to be dead, really impressed the scout in spite
of the fact that he had guided Lieutenant Tompkins and his troopers in
the pursuit of the fugitive soldier, had found the body torn by wolves,
dressed in uniform, and with his own saddle and bridle, taken when he
had dashed away upon his horse, lying by his side.
Still, in the face of all these seeming proofs, the fugitive sergeant
might yet be alive and he would do all he could to solve the mystery as
to whether he was or not.
The scout had been anxious to go alone with the gambler-doctor in the
search, for he did have the hope that, if really found, Wallace Weston
might be reconciled with Doctor Dick, while, if taken by troopers, he
would be returned to the fort and executed, as he was under
death-sentence.
Buffalo Bill never forgot a service rendered him, and he did not wish to
see the sergeant put to death, when he was already believed to be dead,
and the secret might be kept.
After a long search Buffalo Bill found the perilous path down which the
one he followed had gone with his packhorses.
He revealed the fact to Doctor Dick, and the two, after a long
consultation, decided to take the risk and make the descent into the
grand valley.
For men with less nerve than these two possessed it would have been
impossible; and, as it was, there were times when the winding trail and
dangers put their pluck to the test.
At last the valley was reached, and, greatly relieved, the two went into
camp before prosecuting their search further.
The hermit had admitted to Buffalo Bill that he had a comrade dwelling
with him in his retreat, wherever the retreat was.
Would it be that they held a secret there they did not wish known, and
so would resist the intrusion of others? It might be, and that a
death-struggle would follow the discovery of their retreat.
Still, Buffalo Bill was not one to dread whatever might turn up, and he
had seen Doctor Dick tried and proven true as steel and brave as a lion.
And so the search continued, the scout unerringly clinging to the trail
until, just as the two felt that the retreat of those mysterious
dwellers in the Grand Canyon was almost before them, they came upon a
sight that caused them to draw rein and sit upon their horses appalled
at the scene presented to their view.
What they saw was the fallen cliff, and there, just peering out from
among the piles of rocks, was the shattered end of a stout cabin. They
had found the secret retreat, but they stood there feeling that those
who had dwelt in that ruined cabin were beyond all human eye, buried
beneath a monument of rocks an army could not remove in weeks.
"And this is the end?" said Buffalo Bill, the first to speak, breaking a
silence that was appalling.
"Yes, his end, for he undoubtedly lies buried there beneath that mass of
rocks. If it is my foe, Wallace Weston, who has met such a fate, so let
it be."
The two did not tarry long in the canyon, for a dread of the weird spot
seemed to have come over them both.
Doctor Dick roamed about, picking up bits of rock and examining it
closely, while he muttered:
"It was a gold-mine that held them here, but that falling cliff has
hidden the secret forever."
And Buffalo Bill went about searching for trails, yet made no comment,
whether he found any or not, to indicate that the lone dwellers in the
canyon had not both perished in their cabin, and lay buried beneath the
hills of rock that had fallen from the heights above the valley.
But, as the two men rode away up the dangerous mountain-trail, there
were eyes peering upon them they little dreamed of, and Wallace Weston
muttered:
"They believe me dead now: so let it be."