A SUCCESSION OF SURPRISES.
It was agreed to leave two of the miners to guard the camp and horses,
and that the other eight should set out in search of Price and Bloody
Ike. Little Buffalo Bill was to go with the scout; Avery and Hickok
went in another direction; Nomad and Cayuse took up the search
together, and Skibo and the third miner made up the fourth party.
It had been decided to thoroughly scout that portion of the mountains
and if possible “put the kibosh” on the pair of rascals who were not
only a menace to any community, but a pest when turned loose in the
wilds, preying on man and beast, without mercy and in most dastardly
manner.
The miners were delighted at discovering their other keg of powder and
the bags of food stuff where Ike had dropped them. The cost of packing,
food, tools, and powder into this wild territory was disheartening.
“What shall Ah do wiv dem human alligators, if Ah comes up to um in de
mountings an’ dey ’fuses ter be brung in, Mars’ Billyum?”
“Use them as you did the bull at Cooley’s ranch--take them by the horns
and twist their heads off,” interrupted Hickok.
“Bring them in, Skibo, if not alive some other way,” answered the scout
quietly.
“Yah, yah! dat’s what Ah will, Mars’ Billyum; if Ah gets one o’ dem
lily-white han’s ob mine onto um. Dat’s what Ah will, Mars’ Billyum.”
“Never mind the color of the hands, so long as they are honest,” said
the scout.
“Them’s my sentiments,” piped Nomad.
As soon as it was light enough to see, the four parties were searching
every nook, and in accordance with Buffalo Bill’s orders, were making
as little noise and disturbance as possible. This was observed for the
double purpose of hiding their movements from the men they were after,
and to avoid attracting the attention of stray bands of Sioux, who
might be in that territory.
The scout and young Corey made directly west into the heart of
the hills. The boy was in the seventh heaven of the real thing in
happiness. To have been selected as the companion in this man hunt, by
the famous scout himself, was honor enough for one boy. That Buffalo
Bill chose the lad because he wished to see that no harm came to him,
did not occur to the boy.
The scout found the wiry legs and toil-hardened body of the boy could
stand the hardships of mountain climbing as well as any man. Indeed,
young Corey bounded from rock to rock with the agility of a monkey and
was as sure of his footing and as fearless.
Unlike most boys, whose faces are shining with happiness and whose
minds are overflowing with enthusiasm for the work in hand, young Corey
was quiet and almost wordless except when a question was addressed to
him by the scout.
Cody liked this trait--it was the inherent strong point in the
character of a good scout.
It was a delightful day in the cool, breezy hills. The air was laden
with life-building ozone, and fairly pungent in its light and bracing
purity.
The scout, himself, felt the joyous effect of the day and companion.
What whole-souled man can say that he does not enjoy the presence
of a clean, pure-minded youth? And Buffalo Bill always loved strong,
wholesome, brave, and honest boys. He thoroughly liked this manly chap
and determined to see that he was returned safely to his parents and
sisters.
They paused for lunch, where a little mountain stream eddied listlessly
in a sandy-shored basin, in a rock-bound gulch. It was cool and shadowy
there, with the odor of the pines and other evergreens which eked out a
stunted existence on the almost bare rock.
The boy had produced a fishhook and line and caught a fine string of
trout and grayling, and these were broiled over glowing coals, to be
seasoned with salt and pepper from the scout’s pocket case.
Can a boy imagine anything more delightful than camping in the open
with a man whose daring exploits are being read by the whole world?
Any boy might expect an adventure at any moment from the very love of
adventure to get in Buffalo Bill’s way. And to young Corey it came with
such suddenness as to almost take his breath away.
After eating, the scout stretched out in the sun to seek council with
his pipe, and the boy could not resist the temptation to once more try
the trout. “Perhaps I’ll get a few for supper,” he told the scout.
He had caught several trout and was trying to lure a big fellow
from a gloomy retreat under the side of a rock, when the boy felt
instinctively the presence of danger. He glanced up and his eyes were
fascinated by what he saw.
Not fifteen feet away was a mountain lion, with eyes fixed upon him,
and his whole sinuous body in motion, with the appearance of a cat
about to spring upon a bird.
The boy’s rifle lay by the camp fire, but his revolver was in his belt,
and his hand moved swiftly toward it. Then he remembered that Buffalo
Bill had said they must make as little noise as possible.
He would not fire a shot, even to save his life, for had not Buffalo
Bill, in substance, ordered otherwise?
He drew his sheath knife, gripped it firmly, strained every muscle to
resist the shock that he knew was soon to come, and awaited the spring
of the panther.
The animal rocked its body from side to side, worked its claws in
and out as its feet caressed the rock, and its whiskers twitched in
anticipation of the feast in prospect.
The boy saw the beast creep nearer and nearer, then move more rapidly
and poise itself for a spring.
And then there was a sharp, whiplike report, and the animal leaped
straight up into the air, to fall back writhing in death agony.
“Why didn’t you pull your gun, as you started to do?” asked the scout.
“I remembered that you didn’t want us to make a noise,” answered the
boy.
Buffalo Bill extended his hand and said:
“You are a brave lad, and I admire your courage and nerve, but I want
you to remember that all rules must give way before a menace to human
life--either your own or that of another. Use your best judgment,
always.”
Late in the afternoon the scout and boy had passed to the western
slope of the range of hills and saw before them a valley, green and
luxuriant, perhaps ten or twelve miles broad, and banked on the west by
another range of mountains that looked high and forbidding.
They stood out upon the high, bare rock and admired the beautiful land
before them, as yet almost unknown to civilization. Only the trapper
and miner and a few venturesome herdsmen had sought this wild country.
About a mile out upon the plain was a small herd of cattle, and a
solitary horseman watching them. Perhaps half a mile up the valley
could be seen a rude hut, and about the door a woman and several small
children.
Even as they looked, a party of horsemen appeared on the plain to the
southward, coming out from a gash in the foothills. It took Buffalo
Bill less than half a minute to decide that they were Indians and that
they had seen the herd of the lone rancher and were bent on mischief.
The scout wondered if the herdsman would see them in time to take
measures for the defense of himself and his family. The herd was
probably as good as lost.
There were about ten of the red riders, and they rode straight for the
cattle, boldly and without attempt to conceal their presence. They were
scarcely three miles away.
Yes, the herder saw his prospective visitors and began hustling his
stock toward the cabin, which sat at the base of a little round-topped
hill where the creek made a sharp turn around it.
At first the scout was puzzled. He could not imagine what safety there
would be to the herd in closer proximity to the building unless the
settler hoped to shoot from behind his cabin walls and keep the reds
away from the herd. But presently he made out a narrow passage between
the hut and the creek which seemed to be an entrance to a natural
amphitheatre on the river side of the hill.
It was an anxious time for the watching scout, for the Indians were
gaining rapidly and the cattle would run here and there and pause to
grasp a mouthful or two of grass.
Then, when they were nearer, the brave wife, in spite of the oncoming
terror, whose yells could now be heard, ran out and assisted in
rounding the stock into the little inclosure.
Before it was done the Indians were firing rapidly and bullets must
have sprinkled closely about the plucky herdsman and his helpmeet.
The settler slipped from the saddle, sending his mount in with the
stock, and while the woman darted into the cabin, he dropped upon
one knee and took deliberate aim at the oncoming, yelling, shooting
horsemen.
“Crack!” went the rifle, and one savage pitched from the saddle. The
settler did not move and the riders came on, broken up somewhat by the
dodging, riderless horse.
“Crack!” a horse and rider plunged into the grass.
“Crack!” another riderless horse, and then the red men wheeled and
galloped the other way, to get beyond the range of that unwavering
repeater.
But a fourth was lifted from the saddle before they were beyond range.
There the Indians paused to hold council. It had been a costly exploit
for them. One brave was undoubtedly dead and so was a pony. Two red men
who had been wounded were crawling away in the grass, and the one who
rode the dead pony was evidently seriously hurt, for he lay quite still.
The settler stalked calmly back and forth in front of his little
castle, and the wife now made her appearance in the doorway with
children clinging to her. She passed her husband another rifle, and
took the one he had to replenish the magazine.
Buffalo Bill admired the fortitude of these hardy frontier folk, but
he told the boy that in the darkness when the settler could not see to
make shots count, the Indians would charge on the little cabin, murder
all the inmates, and drive off the stock. That was all the red men were
waiting for now, the cover of darkness.
That the settler and his wife realized it was seen by the actions of
the woman, who began carrying water into the cabin from the river and
apparently storing it in barrels and tubs. She also labored unceasingly
with heavy blocks of wood, which probably were to be used as a
barricade. And lastly, she carried pailful after pailful of water to
the thatched roof and soaked it down thoroughly.
The Indians watched the labors of the “white squaw,” and now and then
sent forth derisive yells, but they kept well beyond reach of the rifle
in the hands of the man who so calmly faced them. They knew, also,
that the settler was well armed, for the woman now brought out several
rifles and leaned them against the cabin in silent proclamation of
their readiness for battle.
As the shadows lengthened in the little valley the woman once more gave
the roof of the shanty a generous wetting down, removed everything
movable to the interior, and the settler retired to the doorstep with a
barricade of logs in front of him.
“I hope he will not attempt to remain there after dark,” said the scout
to his boy companion.
“Why not?”
“Because the Indians can approach to within a few rods before he can
see them and then one mad charge and all is over, before he can shoot
twice.”
“He ought to go inside and barricade the door and shoot from where they
can’t get at him, hadn’t he?” asked the boy.
“Yes.”
“Can’t we help them?”
“We’ll certainly try, as soon as it is dark enough so they cannot see
our approach.”
“Good! I hoped we could, for I am afraid morning would find the cabin
burned and the settlers all murdered.”
When it was quite dark the two “Bills” moved quietly nearer the
little cabin by the mound, expecting every moment to hear the thunder
of pounding hoofs and the yells of the savages as they bore down to
overwhelm the little stronghold.
The scout obtained a position to suit his taste and then lay upon the
ground to await the opening of hostilities. At the proper moment he and
the boy would surprise the redskins by taking part in the circus.
Suddenly the expected signal yell came and the charge was on. Nearer
and nearer the ponies thundered and then out from the stone chimney of
the cabin shot a rocket that lighted up the scenery for rods around.
The Indians struggled with their ponies in amazement, but before they
could pull up:
“Crack! bang!” came two shots almost as one, and two saddles were
empty. The settler and his wife had both scored.
“Give ’em a parting shot, boy, to let ’em know the settler has
friends,” said Buffalo Bill, as he sent a pony tumbling by the light of
another rocket that soared upward from the chimney. The boy also dumped
a horse and rider.
This must have surprised the settlers almost, if not fully as much, as
it did the Indians, but a surprise was also coming for the scout and
the boy themselves.
As the Indians fled in dismay little spurts of flame appeared in the
grass as they darted by, and “bang! bang! bang! poppity bang!” rang
shot after shot.
And then above the other tumult arose the voice of old Nomad:
“Thar! ye tarnation helgomonian heifercats! take thet atween yer teeth
an’ take ther kinks out ov et! What yer kihootin’ round hyar for,
anyways, disturbin’ honest critters, an’ keepin’ ther babies erwak?”
The scout laughed. It was apparent that front some commanding position
in the mountains old Nomad and Cayuse had seen the danger of the
settler and his family, and had hastened thither.