HICKOK OUTWITTED BY A THIEF.
Sitting silent as a spectre, listening to the grubbing teeth of the
horses a few rods distant and for the sound of any approach down the
gully on the other side, Wild Bill Hickok observed a ball of fire shoot
up into the southern sky in the distance. It burned brightly for a
moment and then disappeared. Immediately far in the east another sprang
up, and then the west responded, but to the north Hickok could not
observe over the higher land.
The Laramie man knew this to be some sort of Indian signals, but of
course could not pretend to understand their meaning.
Shortly the signals were repeated, this time much nearer on all sides.
The significance was that the country swarmed with redskins, and that
he was in the centre of a vast tract on which there were an outer and
an inner circle of hostile outposts.
Hickok became absorbed in his surroundings, and wondered why he and
Buffalo Bill had not discovered some evidence of these war parties when
they had studied the plain before night. He decided that the surface
must be more uneven than it looked from this commanding position. He
heard only the occasional snarl of a prowling coyote and the whispering
breeze in the dead husks of the weeds.
And then he suddenly realized that he no longer heard the grubbing of
the horses. He listened intently for some moments, but if the horses
were still there they had satisfied their hunger, and were quietly
enjoying the rest after a hard day’s work.
From the gulch came no sound, and at last the Laramie man stole
cautiously down toward the spot where he had left the horses. He found
the place easily enough, but both animals were gone.
“That is odd, not to say mysterious,” muttered Hickok. “I never had a
horse slip his lariat before.”
He searched for the pins, and at last found one--with a short piece of
the riata still attached. He felt of the end--_it had been cut_.
The Laramie man clinched his fists in silent fury.
“A sneaking red thief has crawled right up under my nose and stolen my
horse and Buffalo Bill’s,” he ground between his teeth.
To think of retaking the horses was next to a hopeless task. Perhaps
they had been gone half an hour--long enough for an Indian to have led
them beyond hearing and then galloped several miles.
“What will Cody think?” was the thought uppermost in Hickok’s mind.
“He’ll think I went to sleep and let the redskins get away with the
horses without so much as ‘by your leave.’”
And then the plainsman’s mind was settled.
“I’ll bring those horses or I’ll never come back,” he said in a low
tone, for all the Laramie man’s determination was aroused.
He tore the lariat pin from the ground, pulled the piece of rope from
the pin, and stuffed it into his pocket. He then searched for the
other, found it, and served it in the same way.
“I won’t leave those telltale things behind,” he said.
At first Hickok attempted to pick up and follow the trail, but in the
heavy pall of darkness he found that impossible, as he knew beforehand
it would be. Then he started toward the nearest point where a signal
light had flared. He proceeded carefully, aware that at any moment
he might blunder upon a group of silent savages in the grass. Once a
whirr at his side caused him to bound away from a cactus, where he had
disturbed a rattler.
Frequently he stumbled in the open doorways of prairie-dog villages,
and at another time a wriggling thing under his foot felt as large as a
cat. It was probably a bull snake, which, cloyed with its early evening
meal, had been taking a nap in the pathway of the lone plainsman.
After probably two hours of this, Hickok seemed to have reached the
rim of a little valley, for there, seemingly far below him, were the
twinkling fires of an Indian encampment.
“So here is where they were beginning a Fourth-of-July celebration,”
thought Hickok. “Very good; we’ll slip down that way and see what
they’ve got besides fireworks. Mayhap they’d enjoy some firecrackers
and a little parade.”
Hickok approached the encampment with exceeding caution. He wished to
locate the ponies of the warriors, for he had no doubt it was a war
party, to see if his horse and that of Buffalo Bill had arrived.
He made an entire circuit of the camp, so near that he could hear the
sentries greet each other in low, guttural phrases.
Again he began the circuit, this time within the circle of the guard.
On his previous trip around the camp he had crossed a small stream.
When he came to it again he turned down its bank and approached within
three rods of the nearest fire. There he saw a dozen warriors sleeping
in their blankets and one sitting with crossed legs, smoking and
staring into the embers.
Hickok crept noiselessly past the fire, and followed the stream. It was
as he had hoped--below the camp on the little stream were the horses.
They had grazed along the bank, and now were huddled together in groups
of three or four with crossed necks and heels outward, a trait which
seems to have been handed down from the days when the wild mustangs
thus grouped themselves for defense against the snapping wolves that
came to pull them down.
Hickok carefully worked among the ponies, but found no trace of the
animals belonging to himself and Cody. He successfully passed the
sentry, and once more found himself on the open prairie.
He decided, as it must be well along past midnight, to seek some good
hiding place before dawn, and there remain during the coming day. He
had food, and water was at hand. He thought the stream might furnish
dense thickets farther down, and so followed it, coming to a sharp turn
where the brook tumbled over the rocks to become part of a river twenty
feet below.
Hickok thought he had come to the Big Horn, but later learned it to be
only a good-sized tributary of that wildly picturesque river.
On the bank near the junction the plainsman entered a dense motte of
small timber. He knew he was well beyond sound of the Indian camp,
and was screened from view by the sharp hill he had descended. So he
started a little fire, and made a dipper of strong tea. By the light
of the fire he prepared a hiding place by weaving the willow sprouts
and sage brush into the thick growth about a spot he had selected for
the purpose. He looked carefully about for signs of snakes among the
rocks, but found none.
His nest ready for the coming day, the Laramie man ate heartily, smoked
a pipeful of tobacco, and lay down to rest just as the first streaks of
dawn began to show in the east.
It was late in the afternoon when Hickok awoke, refreshed and ready
for action. He had slept the sleep of the weary man who is in perfect
physical condition. The proximity of his warlike neighbors had not
troubled his dreams. He was sorry to have caused his pards anxiety, but
this could not be helped, and there was no use crying over spilled milk.
He arose and carefully reconnoitred his position before leaving the
thicket. Then he moved to the edge of the timber, and looked across the
plain in all directions, except to the northwest, which was hidden by
the higher land.
Selecting the largest cottonwood which grew in the loving embrace of a
willow, he clambered up where he could look over the brow of the ridge.
A surprise awaited him. The Indian encampment had quadrupled in size.
The little valley looked like a village of a large tribe.
But a sight that stirred him more was far out on the plain to the
westward. There he first saw a madly galloping cluster of horsemen.
There were half a hundred Sioux making all haste to the westward, as if
life depended on covering the ground at breakneck speed.
Hickok instantly picked out two of the larger animals in the lead,
and knew them to be the gallant Bear Paw and his own brave horse. He
looked for the object of this wild flight, and saw, far away, a herd of
buffalo crossing a ridge toward the sinking sun.
“Good enough!” he exclaimed aloud. “To-night they’ll gorge themselves
with buffalo meat and celebrate the event. Now, I can see where Hickok
gets in his fine work and lights out with a couple of good horses--or
gets a tickle of bullets in his ribs in the attempt.”
The Laramie man remained in the tree for an hour, watching the chase,
and, when the surprised buffalo finally found themselves surrounded by
yelling redskins, their pitiful attempts at escape and their maddened
charges on the enemy were almost useless.
Hickok clambered down, and once more inspected his grub bag. Another
little fire provided tea, and as the sun was going down behind the
distant hills he again climbed the tree and watched the procession of
returning hunters.
The night settled overcast and as dark as Erebus. The Indian fires
burned up in red glare, and many signals were sent up, evidently
telling other encampments of the rich haul of the party that day.
It was an ideal night for the work Hickok had in hand; the darker the
better, and he felt in prime condition for the undertaking. He saw
that his revolvers were loaded and in the best condition, and then
filled his water pouch, for he knew not when he would again find the
thirst-relieving liquid. His knife was keen.
Two hours after dark the feasting and dancing were under way. The
red warriors provided meat for some time to come, indulged in much
speechmaking, and one chief aroused great enthusiasm. Hickok did not
know this man, and could not well get near enough to hear what he
said--too many fires were burning, and the odor of cooking meat was
wafted out to him, telling that the feasting and revelry would last
throughout the night.
Hickok knew where to find the horses this time, and had no trouble in
passing the guard, who was all eyes and ears for the camp.
But the first difficulty to overcome was an extra guard that had been
posted over the stolen horses. These were apart from the ponies,
probably because Bear Paw absolutely refused to associate with the
Indian mustangs, and he usually emphasized his dislike in a way that
made it unsafe for the smaller animals.
The two horses were lariated on the bank of the little stream opposite
the others and farther from the camp fires. This was fortunate in
itself for the Laramie man, but the Indians had taken the precaution to
post a separate sentry by them.
The buck sat with his face to the firelight a few feet from the
horses. He was smoking and now and then mumbling to himself, probably
disgruntled comments on his ill luck at being unable to partake of the
night’s festivities.
In their anxiety to begin the sport the Indians had given their ponies
scant time to graze, and the latter were out of temper and quarrelsome.
They bit, kicked, and squealed in a continuous hubbub. This noise
assisted the Laramie man to carry out his plan.
He crossed the brook, and crept silently toward the unsuspecting guard.
From behind clumps of sage he picked out his way, and crawled nearer
and nearer.
The buck was viciously sweeping the weeds about him with the muzzle of
his rifle.
“I’ll vent your temper a bit presently,” thought the Laramie man,
creeping nearer and ready for a spring at the slightest turn of the
Indian’s head, which was outlined against the firelight beyond.
A silent bound, a dull thud, and the buck rolled over without a moan.
The Laramie man’s revolver butt had descended true and hard.
Hickok acted quickly. He cut the lariats of the horses, hitched Bear
Paw’s line to his own saddle, and was just swinging into the saddle
when there was a surprised “Ugh!” behind him, a shot, and Buffalo
Bill’s right bower darted out upon the plain like a whirlwind, with the
whole Indian encampment behind him in wild turmoil.