A METAMORPHOSIS.
When Harding met with old Huckleberry, the stage-driver, who had so
mysteriously disappeared, and whose fate was a mystery to the miners of
Last Chance, that old worthy saw the coach drive on its way while he
regarded its departure with the complacency of one not afraid to be left
alone, and fully capable of taking care of himself.
He stood for some time in silent meditation, after the coach had
disappeared, and then, shouldering his rifle, struck off over the
mountains, with an evident purpose in view.
A walk of some ten miles brought him to a secluded nook in the
mountains, a perfect basin a dozen acres in size, heavily wooded, with
plenty of grass and water.
A narrow pass, not twenty feet in width, was the only entrance to the
basin, and this was securely fastened up with long poles.
Over this old Huckleberry clambered, and as he walked into the basin, a
couple of horses feeding there greeted him with a welcoming neigh. In
the farther end, among the pines, was a brush cabin, and in it were
blankets and a camping-outfit, with saddle, pack-saddle, and bridles.
Old Huckleberry proceeded to build a fire and cook dinner, after which
he caught one of his horses, saddled him, and strapped on some blankets
and a bag of provisions.
Leading the horse out of the basin, he replaced the barrier securely, so
that the other animal could not get out, and, mounting, started off for
the fort. As he rode alone, he muttered to himself:
"I can do nothing alone, I feel certain, and by this time the one man
whose aid I can best depend upon is at the fort, and he will gladly
return with me."
Pressing on at a steady gait, he did not halt until some time after
nightfall, and then built no fire, but ate a cold supper, staked his
horse out, rolled up in his blankets, and was soon fast asleep.
He rose early, and the coming of day found him several miles on his way
from his night camp.
About eight o'clock he halted, built a fire, broiled the steak of an
antelope he had killed, some crackers and bacon, his horse faring well
on the grass near-by.
A rest of an hour and a half, and he was again in the saddle, keeping up
the same steady gait until noon, when another halt was made for a couple
of hours. On through the afternoon he urged his horse once more, halting
only after nightfall.
Two hours before daybreak he was in the saddle, and now his horse was
pushed more rapidly forward, as though a long rest lay not very far
ahead.
It was two hours before noon when the worn-out horse pricked up his ears
as he saw a flag fluttering in the skies a mile ahead.
In through the stockade gate of Fort Faraway rode old Huckleberry, and
he asked to be at once taken to the quarters of the commanding officer.
Major Randall surveyed the old fellow keenly, and said pleasantly:
"Well, old man, what can I do for you?"
"I'll tell yer, pard, soon as I sees ef thet gent in sojer clothes ain't
goin' ter speak ter a old friend," and old Huck looked over to an
officer who was talking to Major Randall when he entered. The man wore
a fatigue uniform, and his shoulder-straps bore the rank of a captain,
with the insignia of a surgeon of cavalry.
He was tall, erect, had broad shoulders, and was of powerful build,
while, strange to say for an officer, he wore his black hair long and
falling in heavy masses down his back.
His face was full of decision, courage, and intelligence, and handsome,
as well, and in his dark, piercing eyes there was a strange mixture of
gentleness and a fiery nature combined. In a voice strangely musical for
a man's, he said, as he arose:
"My dear old pard, am I so remiss as to forget the face of a friend,
for, though I see that it is familiar, I cannot just place you."
"Now, Pard Doc, I thinks that ain't jist squar' ter fergit a old
friend," said old Huckleberry, while Major Randall said:
"He certainly knows you well, Major Powell."
"And I knows Major Randall well, too; but as you don't seem ter git
onter jist who I is gents, I'll tell yer by taking off my wig and
specs--see!"
The wig, or shock, rather, of long gray hair was removed, the spectacles
taken off, and the face of Buffalo Bill was revealed to the astonished
gaze of Major Randall and Surgeon Powell, who both uttered an
exclamation of amazement, and then burst out into hearty laughter, at
the metamorphosis of old Huckleberry into the noted chief of scouts.
"Well, Cody, what does this masquerading mean?" cried Major Randall,
after he and Surgeon Powell had shaken hands with the scout.
"It is a part of a plot, major, for I have been driving stage," answered
the scout.
"Driving stage?"
"Yes, sir, I took the semimonthly coach running from W---- to Last
Chance, after the road-agents had killed Benton and Dockery, and no one
cared to drive the run, unless it was Doctor Dick, the gold-gambler of
Last Chance."
"Did he take the coach through, Cody?"
"Oh, yes, sir, he is not a man to scare, and he drove several runs; but
then his professional duties as gambler and doctor kept him busy, and I
rigged up as old Huckleberry, and drove the runs, to see what I could
find out."
"And what did you find out?"
"I believe I discovered sufficient, sir, to stretch several ropes with
human weights."
"That means you are on the right trail to bag those road-agents?"
"Yes, sir."
"They appear to be well handled?"
"They are, sir, for their chief is a man of remarkable pluck, cunning,
and skill, and he handles them in a masterly manner."
"Who is he?"
"I do not believe his own men could tell you, sir, for he goes masked
and robed in black, even covering up his horse from ears to tail."
"That is strange."
"It is the safest plan, sir."
"And who is driving now?"
"Harding, sir, the ex-soldier, and whom, I may confidentially say,
major, I have taken into my service, not as a scout, but as a spy, at
Last Chance."
"A fine fellow, but I fear he will be killed as driver on that trail."
"I hope not, sir, and he has escaped splendidly through great dangers
thus far."
"Well, what will be your plans now?"
"I have been hanging on the trail, sir, since my mysterious
disappearance as old Huckleberry, and have been hovering about the Death
Line, taking notes and seeing what I could discover. I have a camp in a
basin in the mountain range, and there I left my packhorse and outfit
while I came here."
"You have something to report to me, then?"
"No, sir, not particularly, though I came for a purpose."
"And that purpose, Cody?"
"I was aware, sir, that Surgeon Frank Powell was coming to the fort, to
relieve Doctor Dey, and that his duties as surgeon would not begin for
some weeks yet. As we have been on so many scouting-expeditions
together, and Doctor Powell is a regiment in himself, I wanted him to go
back with me and unearth these road-agents, following their trail to the
very end."
"You could have no one better. What do you say, Powell?"
"How could I refuse, major, after Bill's most flattering remarks about
what I can do, and which prove he has Irish blood in his veins."
"Ah! I knew that you would go, Frank," responded Cody.
"Of course, I will, and am ready when you say the word, only I must ask
Major Randall for a leave, should we not accomplish our purpose before I
am ordered for duty here."
"That will be all right, Powell. When will you start, Cody, for Doctor
Powell will have to first relieve Doctor Dey, as that would be the best
plan, and then go, leaving his assistant surgeon in charge."
"It is for you to decide, major."
"Very well, say in just ten days from now."
"All right, sir; but, after a couple of days' rest, I had better return
to my basin camp, and be on the watch, and I can tell Surgeon Powell
just where I will meet him upon a certain date."
"You know best, Cody; but do not venture much until Powell joins you,
for well I know what a team you two make together."
"I feel certain, sir, that together we can run down these masked
marauders," was the confident reply of Buffalo Bill, and when he went to
his quarters, soon after, Surgeon Powell accompanied him, for the two
were the closest of friends.