A DESPERATE BATTLE.
When Buffalo Bill returned to the camp he found Nomad and Pizen Kate
in a state of much excitement.
Nomad had made a discovery as important and startling as that of the
scout.
“Buffler,” he said, in reporting it, “ef thar ain’t high old times
round hyar purty soon, then I gives up as a prophet. Ef them Redskin
Rovers follers us down ayar they’ll have their hands more’n full; fer
thar’s a band of outlaws hidin’ nigh, and they seem ter be waitin’
fer them Rovers, with ther intention of doin’ ’em up.”
“If that fight comes off, I’m goin’ to see it!” avowed Pizen Kate. “I
ain’t never seen a fust-class fight of no kind.”
“But you’ve been mixed up in more’n one!” said Nomad.
“Nicholas, don’t interrupt me when I’m talkin’! That’s one o’ the
things about ye I never did like; you ain’t got any proper respect
fer a lady. As I was sayin’ ter Persimmon Pete----”
“Ter Buffler, yer mean!”
“As I was sayin’ to him. I ain’t never seen any fust-class fight.
When them two prize fighters fit in the op’ry house there in Kansas
City last winter, tickets was fifteen dollars apiece, so I couldn’t
afford one, and didn’t git to see it.”
“’Twouldn’t been no proper place fer ye, nohow!” Nomad sputtered.
“So, as I was sayin’ ter Persimmon Pete, if this fight comes off I
want to see it. Tell him all about it, Nicholas.”
“Waugh! Buffler, I war moseyin’ round, lookin’ ter see what war ter
be seen, when all to onct I heerd some men talkin’. They war white
men, and when I’d got nigh enough ter see ’em I knowed from their
gin’ral make-up and apeerances that they war outlaws, ef their talk
hadn’t soon told me.
“Waal, it seems outlaws aire hyar in purty consid’able force, hidin’,
and they’re layin’ fer ther Redskin Rovers, which aire approachin’
out of ther hills. They sighted ther Rovers about daylight, and have
been layin’ fer ’em ever sense.
“It seems thet they’ve got a grudge agin’ ther redskins; fer ther
reason thet ther redskins has been doin’ a lot o’ robbin’ and
stealin’, and ther like, and the outlaws has been gittin’ ther blame
of it.
“They think that ther reckless doin’s of ther Injuns is goin’ ter
cause a strong force of soldiers ter be sent out hyar. So, ter take
the cuss off, they’re goin’ ter wipe out ther reds. I cal’late they
think, too, that if one robber band is wiped out ther’ll be more
pickin’ fer ther one thet’s left.”
“Where were these men?” Buffalo Bill asked, interested at once.
“Right out yander on ther side o’ thet hill, where ther bushes aire
thick as hair on a dog and a feller can’t see two yards afore his
nose. I wouldn’t knowed they war thar but Nebby smelt ’em out fer
me; and when I’d left ther ole hoss behind and had croped up on foot,
then I seen ’em, and I heerd ’em. Thar war three of ’em, and it
seemed they war doin’ sort of sentinel duty.”
“This is important,” said the scout. “For the Redskin Rovers are
advancing, and some of their scouts have already got this far.”
Then he related what he had seen, and it was of a character to offset
even the remarkable story told by Nomad.
Pizen Kate again vociferously declared that if a fight came she
intended to witness it.
“’Tain’t fittin’ thet a lady should witness warfare and bloodshed!”
Nomad protested, with a twinkling smile.
“How do you know it ain’t?” she asked. “Was you ever a lady? And,
if you never was, how kin you speak fer ’em? I’m a lady, and I know
more what’s becomin’ ter one than you do. So, Nicholas, jes’ shet yer
baboon head and stop tryin’ ter give me advice.”
“Katie,” said Nomad, with another grin, “the only way ter give you
advice and have it ter take effect would be ter pump it inter ye with
a shotgun.”
The fight which Nick Nomad anticipated, and which he had heard those
three outlaws talking about, came even sooner than he expected it
would.
The Redskin Rovers were already in the timbered belt that fringed the
lower hills. As they emerged on the edge of the mesa they were set
upon without warning by the outlaws, who charged, riding out of the
timber, and attacked with wild yells and a firing of rifles.
The unexpectedness of the attack threw the Redskin Rovers into
confusion. But they knew who these white men were, and that they were
not only their rivals in robbery and bloodshed, but their deadly foes
as well.
They rallied under the inspiriting commands of their disguised white
leader, and the fight that followed was sanguine enough to please
even Pizen Kate, who climbed into a tree as soon as it began, and
from that coign of vantage watched it throughout.
Nomad and Buffalo Bill also climbed into trees and witnessed the
battle between the Redskin Rovers and the white outlaws.
For a little while it seemed that the Indians would break at once
into flight, so desperate and deadly was the outlaw charge; but when
the white leader put himself at their head and rallied them they made
a stout stand.
The tide of battle rolled out upon the mesa. Men and horses dropped
under rifle fire, and under arrow and Indian lance. The combatants
rode at each other, shooting, hacking with knives, stabbing with
lances, and even seizing each other and rolling to the ground from
their saddles, to continue there to the death this feud of hatred and
revenge.
Now and then Nomad yelled, he was so carried away by what he beheld;
and Pizen Kate waved her shapeless hat and uttered voiceless cheers
of approval when something of especial and spectacular interest was
witnessed.
But the fight did not last long. It was too fierce. Half the Indians,
and as many of the outlaws, were soon down.
The disguised leader of the Redskin Rovers fell while trying to hold
his followers together. As he pitched stiffly out of his saddle and
his mustang raced away, his followers broke into panicky flight,
having no further stomach for such terrific fighting after the death
of their desperate leader. They rode into the timbered hills, with
the outlaws in hot pursuit; and the tide of blood rolled away out of
sight.
“Whoop! Whoroar!” yelled Pizen Kate, waving her hat.
“Katie,” said Nomad, from his tree. “Can’t ye exercise a leetle
discretion?”
“Shet up, Nicholas!” she snapped. “Who aire you, ter be givin’ sech
advice--you, who ain’t done nothin’ but yell yerself out of breath
ever sense ther fightin’ started! Did ye think you wasn’t doin’ any
hollerin’? If it hadn’t been that the fighters was makin’ sech a
noise themselves they couldn’t helped hearin’ ye.”
She slid ungracefully down from her tree, and Buffalo Bill and Nomad
came down out of theirs.
“We’ll be free from the pursuit of the Redskin Rovers now,” said the
scout, with grim satisfaction. “We can thank those outlaws for that.”
“An’ mebbe git killed by ther outlaws!” said Nomad. “I’d as soon die
by an Injun’s arrer as by a white man’s bullet.”
“Kin we go on to ther house now, do ye think?” asked Pizen Kate. “I
dunno, though, if I kin stand it to cross that land where so many
dead men aire layin’. Seems ter me it will be sorter harrowin’ to the
feelin’s.”
Nomad cackled. “Katie,” he said, “you’re an amusin’ cuss!”