READY TO GO.
The man whom Buffalo Bill had come to Eldorado to meet appeared in
the town some time after this spectacular entrance of Pizen Kate, and
sought the famous scout, in the latter’s room at the hotel.
The name of this man was John Latimer. He lived in isolated grandeur
in a big house on Crested Mesa, for the benefit of his health, he
said, which had been weakened by the damp and trying climate of the
East.
He was an elderly man, of impressive appearance; gray-haired and
gray-bearded. His eyes were gray, and were overhung by bushy gray
eyebrows. He dressed neatly, in the Eastern fashion, and seemed very
much out of place in this wild border country, at that time.
These things Buffalo Bill noted, as John Latimer came into the room,
shook hands, and took the chair placed for him.
“Ah, Cody!” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come, even though I
had made my complaint so strong.”
“Your appeals stirred the colonel of the regiment at Fort Sinclair,
and he told me to come out here and look into the thing and report
to him at once; and he gave me authority, likewise, to send for a
company of men, or even to organize a company of border riflemen on
my own account, for quick action, if I thought necessary.”
“Very good!” said Latimer. “That pleases me. You shall have all the
proofs you want.”
“I’ve already been getting some of them, on my way here.”
“You heard of that last raid made by the road agents on the Double
Bar Ranch?” said Latimer.
“Yes.”
“And the attack of the Redskin Rovers on the treasure train which a
week ago came out of the Bighorn Hills?”
“I heard of that, too. You have means of knowing something of the
movements of these men?”
“Very little. The Redskin Rovers puzzle me.”
“Are they really Indians, or are they white men disguised as Indians?”
“Genuine Indians, I think.”
“Perhaps led by white men?”
“Perhaps so.”
“They haven’t troubled you lately?”
“Not lately.”
“Nor the white road agents?”
“They shot one of my herders less than a week ago. I believe they
thought him a miner with gold. He was dressed somewhat like a miner,
and he was coming out of the hills with filled saddle pouches. But
the pouches held only some mineral specimens I had asked him to get
for me. That trip cost him his life, poor fellow.”
“You know where that place is? We can, perhaps, find their trail
there even yet.”
“You are ready to go with me, Cody?”
“That’s what I came for.”
“And I came in to get you and take you out to my place.”
“You spoke of your herder. Are you running a cattle ranch?”
“Not a ranch; but I keep a few, a very few, cattle. I am living there
simply for the benefit of my health.”
His clear skin, the breadth of his shoulders, his general look of
good health, in spite of gray hairs and gray beard, did not indicate
that his health needed any especial care, as the scout noted.
“When will you go, Cody?” he asked.
“Any time. Now, if you like.”
“Now it is, then. We’ll start as soon as you can get ready.”
“I am ready.”
They left the room together.
In the hotel office Buffalo Bill ordered his horse brought from the
stable and made ready for him, and he paid his score. Latimer’s horse
had been left in the street in front of the hotel, tied to a hitching
post. In a little while the scout and Latimer were mounted; and they
galloped together out of the town of Eldorado, drawing many remarks
from those who saw them go.
One of the witnesses of their departure was Pizen Kate. She had been
having a dispute with a German shoemaker, who declared he had seen
her missing husband the week before, and that he had but one leg,
a statement that Pizen Kate disputed so warmly that the German was
willing to modify it.
“Vell, he mighd haf had two legs,” he admitted, “but one of dem vas
of wood. He come py my shop in, and ven he put oop his foot here, to
have me fix his shoe, he say he is no man, as he haf but one leg.”
“But he didn’t say he was Nicholas Nomad! He didn’t say that?”
“No; I didn’t ask him vat vas his first name.”
Perhaps the German was a bit of a joker, for when he said this his
blue eyes twinkled.
Pizen Kate stopped her wordy and interesting dispute with him, and
stared at the horsemen who went by--Buffalo Bill and John Latimer.
“You know them men?” she snapped.
“Neider uff dhem vas the man vat I see. Neider of dhem vas your
hoosbant.”
“Who said they was?” she snapped. “I said did you know ’em?”
“One I haf seen pefore. But I ton’d know heem.”
“You don’t mean Buffalo Bill, the tallest of ’em?”
“No; I ton’d know him. I neffer haf seen him. Bud I t’ink me I voult
like to haf dhe chob uff making his poots for him. Dey musd cost
apout dwendy-five tollars a pair.”
She left him in a hurry.
“I’m goin’ to find out why them two fellers aire ridin’ out of this
place so fast,” she threw back at him. “It looks curious. I wonder
if they don’t know somethin’ about my missin’ husband? Huntin’ fer
missin’ husbands is terrible tryin’ work.”