A TRAGEDY OF THE PLAIN.
A lonely shack left by Northern Pacific surveyors, on the rolling
prairie perhaps one hundred and fifty miles east of Gallatin, showed
evidence of habitation in the early morning of a balmy summer day.
Ten rods away, in a sag almost hidden by sage brush, a pair of Indian
ponies grazed peacefully.
Two men came out of the hut, climbed the highest ridge at hand, and
scanned the horizon carefully, then went back to start a little fire
and prepare breakfast.
“I can’t understand how you got away from the fort, Price,” said one.
“Easy enough, Ike,” returned the other. “Remember the crook-fingered
’breed, Pete, who got nabbed for the stage raid down toward Virginia
City two years ago?”
“Sure.”
“Perhaps you may remember that I fixed it with the judge, and he got
off light?”
“Um-h’m.”
“Well, Pete was at the fort caring for the horses of the officers. He
knew me first glimpse, but he didn’t let on, and when he got a chance
he slipped me out with a good mount, a sack of grub, and a belt full of
guns.”
“Pete sort o’ squared his bill, eh?”
“He did, and if you ever see a chance to slip Pete a favor, Ike, on my
account, I hope you’ll do it.”
“Bet yer life, I will, Price, but I never did like that Canadian
polecat, though.”
“We’re all in the same box, Ike--any of us would knife the guard for a
run and take the chances of decorating a rope. But most anything goes
in this wild country--it’s every man for himself and the devil take the
hindmost.”
“An’ the man that’s slow with his gun is the rear man every time, I
notice. Eh, Price?”
“You hit the bull’s-eye, Ike, but you haven’t said it all. I reckon
I’ve got to keep my gun ready, and be quicker than greased lightning
till I get out of this territory. Every man-jack, red and white, seems
looking for my scalp, except a few like you and Pete.”
“Keep a stiff upper lip, old man. I’m with you, and the liveliest ghost
Buffalo Bill and his pards ever run up against. I want just one more
whack at that crowd.”
“I hope you get it, Ike, and redeem your reputation. Your giant powder
seemed hoodooed over Bozeman way.”
“I’ve got a new lot in my bag, and it’s good for a free ticket for the
whole bunch of trail hunters, if I can get a chance to put it under
’em.”
“I hope you get the chance, but I want first and most to get as far
from these Yankton Sioux and Crows as possible. I want to hit south
and make Laramie City before I stop. Then I propose to prance in a
different harness for a while.”
“Do you know which way Buffalo Bill went after the round-up?”
“Yes, I was particular to keep my ears open till I was sure of the
course he was steering. He went to Helena to rustle the boys up there.”
“What do the soldiers think of Cody?”
“Oh, they think he’s a wonder, and they swear by him in seven
languages.”
“Between you and me, Price, he is the only man this side the hot place
that could have done you and your gang up in such short order.”
“And the only man who was too sharp to be caught by your quick-trip
tickets,” retorted Price.
“I’ll get him yet,” said Ike.
“I hope you will, as I said before, but when you do will you please
send me word, for I want a chance to help pick up the pieces.”
“If either of his ears is left whole I’ll send it to you---- Roaring
rattlesnakes! see there!”
The cause of the exclamation of “Bloody Ike,” for it was none other
than the ex-miner, was the sight of two red men leaned well forward on
flying ponies. The Indians were drumming incessantly the sides of the
animals in attempt to get more speed out of them, while three hundred
yards in the rear came a tall, gaunt horse, with long, regular bounds
that were gradually lessening the distance between him and the ponies.
On the back of the horse sat a broad-shouldered, bewhiskered man with
eyes fixed on the red men and ready rifle across his knees.
Now both Indians turned in the saddle and blazed away at their pursuer,
who neither hesitated, changed his course, nor lifted his rifle.
The Indians began hurriedly to reload, working their heels at the
flanks of their ponies the while, with the motions of a wooden monkey
on a stick.
The trio were only half a mile away to the northward and rapidly going
east. The watchers at the shack amused themselves by comments on the
race, but admired the cool determination of the white pursuer, who
glanced neither to right nor left, as the Indians again turned and
emptied their rifles at him.
Presently the red men tried different tactics--they swerved, one to
the right and the other to the left, and each belabored his pony with
renewed vigor, each possibly hoping to gain fast enough so that the
grim rider behind would take up the pursuit of the other.
This was apparently what the pursuer had been looking for, for his
heels now went up, and the length and rapidity of the stride of the
powerful horse increased.
Rapidly now the distance was annihilated. But the Indians were pulling
apart, and he must soon select between them.
Then the rifle which had laid idly across the white man’s knees
jumped to his shoulder. For an instant it was held there, a part of
the bobbing pantomime, and then a yellow spurt left the muzzle, and
instantly one of the Indians threw up his arms, and with a wild yell
pitched from the back of his mustang.
The white man’s rifle dropped across his knees again, and the great
horse swept harder and closer on the trail of the other red man.
Pursued and pursuer now tore away into the southeast, the relentless
white man sitting unmoved as the Indian frantically loaded and fired at
his pursuer.
And at last, with pursued and pursuer like ants on the sky line,
Price, the former Indian agent in the Gallatin Valley, and his guilty
companion, Bloody Ike, saw the close of the tragedy.
There was a sudden halt of the pursuer, a rigid erectness for an
instant, a white puff, and the second Indian plunged from the back of
his staggering pony, but no sound of shot or death yell came back over
the intervening distance.
They had witnessed one of the many tragedies of those wild days in the
great West--the days of an eye for an eve and a tooth for a tooth;
the days when revenge was as sweet as ever and recognized in this
ungoverned region as the right of man.
Slowly the bewhiskered white rider came back over the trail, and noting
the presence of human beings at the old shanty rode down to greet them
with:
“Well, what ye doin’ here?”
Price’s first thought was of an insolent retort, but, remembering the
other’s decisive way of settling disputes, softened his manner, and
said:
“Resting after a hard day-and-night ride.”
“Where be ye goin’?”
“Working south, now, across the Yellowstone. Came up to hunt down a
horse thief Sioux, but lost him.”
“How many horses did he get?”
“Two, but we want to settle with him more than to get the ponies.”
“Well, thar’s a couple o’ ponies I reckon you c’n have, an’ welcome;
their owners won’t need ’em any more.”
“What’s the cause of the falling out you had with the reds?”
“Devils raided my corral last night and shot my father--they won’t
shoot any more fathers.”
“You better take the ponies.”
“I don’t want anything that ever belonged to one of the red skunks.”
The stern ranchman rode away, and Price somehow felt relief as those
keen, dark eyes turned toward the settler’s home and stopped boring
under the skin of these fugitives from the law.
Bloody Ike rode out and captured the ponies, and then the two men set
off southward, leading two animals not their own. They hoped with these
extra mounts to make better time in their flight from the territory
where they were too well known for their own comfort. Even the Indians
who were friendly with the whites had no use for Price or his gang
unless it were to provide amusement at some torture party.
That was what Price feared, but he preferred to take his chances of
escape through a country swarming with hostile red men to standing
trial for his misdeeds with the array of evidence against him provided
by Buffalo Bill.
Price was doubly glad that the grim ranchman was a stranger to him.
There were some of these plainsmen who did not seem to understand a
joke, and if they knew the joke was on Uncle Sam they might insist on
his--Price’s--company back to the military camp.
But Price’s relief at getting off so easily was not long-lived, as we
soon shall see.