THE COURIER.
The man who had volunteered to take the long and dangerous ride to Fort
Faraway, to carry a letter to Buffalo Bill, had ridden along steadily
after leaving Last Chance, until a couple of hours before day. Then he
halted, staked his horse out, and, wrapping himself in his blanket, went
to sleep.
For several hours he slept serenely, then awaking he cooked his
breakfast and was soon again in the saddle.
He seemed to understand frontier craft perfectly, and to appreciate just
what his horse could stand, so did not press him too hard.
Camping at nightfall, he was again on the trail at daybreak, and held
steadily on during the day.
Another night-camp and he rode into Fort Faraway the next morning before
the hour of noon.
He was directed at once to the quarters of Buffalo Bill, and though,
having been a soldier there, he recognized many old friends, he saw
that, dressed as he then was, and with his beard grown, the recognition
was not mutual.
But the moment he entered the presence of Buffalo Bill he was recognized
and warmly greeted, for the scout had always liked the young soldier,
who had been given his discharge on account of a severe wound received
in an Indian fight, which it was thought would render him lame for life.
"Well, Harding, I am glad to see you, and you deserve credit for the
plucky ride you have made. How is the old wound getting on now?"
"All right, Bill, for I am not at all lame, I am glad to say."
"And you are getting rich, I suppose?"
"Well, no, but I have laid up some money in mining, only I cannot stand
upon my wounded leg long at a time, and so I am going to ask you to take
me on as a scout under your command, if you can do so."
"Harding, you are just the man I want, and you are in that very place
where I need you, so you can return to your mine, and pretend to work as
before, for there is where I wish you to serve me, since I received this
letter from Doctor Dick."
"Thank you, Pard Cody, for your kindness, and will be glad to do as you
wish; but may I ask a favor?"
"Certainly."
"It is that no one knows that I am in your service, not even Landlord
Larry or Doctor Dick, for I can work better, I am sure."
"It might be a good idea to have it so, and it shall be as you wish, for
you can do better work as a spy, and I have full confidence in you,
Harding. But we will talk over just what it is best to do when I have
reported to Major Randall the holding up of the coach and killing of
Dave Dockery and the others."
Buffalo Bill then left the courier and went to headquarters, where he
held a long conversation with the commandant of the post.
Returning to his own quarters he said to Harding, who was awaiting him:
"Well, pard, the major has heard the whole story, and he has left it to
me to go in my own way about running down these road-agents, for, though
only one was seen, there were evidently more at the hold-up."
"I do not doubt that, for one man would be a bold one to alone make an
open attempt to hold up a coach with Dave Dockery on the box, and
knowing that he had passengers with him."
"Well, Harding, you are to return to Last Chance, and give letters I
will write to Landlord Larry, and I wish you to go to work in my
service, and secret service it must be, for what you do must be
underhand, no one knowing that you are doing else than carrying on your
mining as before. I will give you a paper which will protect you, for
Major Randall will endorse it officially, and you can use it in case of
trouble, or necessity; not otherwise."
"I thank you, friend Bill, and I'll be discreet, I promise you; but now
there is another thing I wish to tell you, and to ask what you think of
it."
"Well, what is it, Harding?"
"Do you believe that Sergeant Wallace Weston is dead?" was the query, in
a low, earnest tone.
Buffalo Bill started at the unexpected question asked him, and gazing
intently at Harding, asked:
"Why do you ask such a question, Harding?"
"I will tell you when you answer my question, Mr. Cody."
"Whether I believe Sergeant Wallace Weston dead?"
"Yes, sir."
"I do."
"You have good reason for believing it, then?"
"I have."
"Please tell me what it is."
"As you have some motive above curiosity in asking, I will do so,
Harding," and Buffalo Bill told the whole story of Sergeant Weston's
escape from execution, and the finding of a body in his uniform upon the
desert, and burying it. But he added:
"I confess, Harding, after a talk with Doctor Dick upon the subject, I
was led to doubt to a certain degree the death of the sergeant, and even
followed a trail which I supposed was his."
"With what result, sir?"
"That we found the trail led to a mine which had caved in and crushed
the cabin home of those who dwelt there!"
"When was this, sir?"
"Only a short time ago."
"Do you mind giving me the date?"
Buffalo Bill took a note-book from his pocket and gave the exact date.
"Now, Harding, you have some knowledge upon this subject; a secret to
tell."
"Yes, sir."
"Out with it."
"You will keep it in confidence, between us two?"
"Certainly."
"You know that the sergeant was my friend, that he had saved my life
twice in battle, and I loved him as I did a brother?"
"I remember."
"No man knew him better than I did in the fort, for we were boon
comrades for over a year, and I knew his features perfectly, as well as
other marks of identification."
"Yes."
"The sergeant had one mark that he was sensitive about, and kept hidden
from all, though I saw it several times."
"What was it?"
"He had a peculiar way of dressing his hair, with a curl hanging over
his forehead."
"I remember it."
"Beneath that curl, sir, was a birthmark."
"Ah!"
"It was a red cross an inch in length, and perfect in shape."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, and I saw that same mark on a man's forehead a few days before the
date you say that Sergeant Weston, if it was he, was buried in the
caved-in mine."
"Ah! and where did you see it?"
"I had gone to Wingate by coach, sir, to collect some money due me from
several soldiers there, and in the sutler's store I saw a man whose face
I was sure I had seen before.
"He wore his hair and beard long, and seemed to stoop badly, or was
round-shouldered, but the form otherwise was the same, so were the eyes
and shape of the head, and he had a round gold filling the size of a
pin's head in one of the front teeth.
"Reading a letter that seemed to impress him, he took off his hat and
pushed his hair back, and I saw the red cross on his forehead. I went up
to see him as though to attract his attention, but he looked at me as
though he had never seen me before, yet his face flushed and paled as he
looked.
"Now, Mr. Cody, that man was Sergeant Weston, and I'll swear to it, but
I would not tell any other man than you, for if he escaped death no one
is more glad of it than I, unless----"
"Unless what, Harding?"
"Unless, a poor man, and a hunted one, he turned road-agent and was the
man who held up the coach, killing Dave Dockery."
"No, Harding, I can hardly believe that of him, and then, too, the coach
was just held up, and this man, with his pard, perished in the cave-in
of their mine."
"You are sure?"
"I cannot see reason to doubt it, but now that you tell me what you do,
the man who saved me from the gang of Headlight Joe, and then went on
his way, recalled a face I could not place, and now I am sure that it
was Sergeant Weston; but he too had round shoulders, while the sergeant
did not have, and yet he was then on his way to Wingate, and it was upon
his return that I followed his trail."
"Well, sir, if it was in my power to capture Sergeant Weston, never
would I lay hand upon him, and I believe you feel the same way, unless
it was your orders to do so. Still, somehow, the thought came to me
that, a fugitive, and friendless, he might have turned outlaw."
"I do not think so, and I am sure now that, if it was Weston who came to
my aid, and whom you saw, he perished in the mine; but now let us go
over what I wish you to do, and my plan to run down these road-agents,
who I am sure are from Last Chance Claim and nowhere else," said Buffalo
Bill.