OUTSIDE THE WALLS.
Lieutenant Joel Barlow had seen the entrance of Buffalo Bill into the
barricaded land about the fort, and when the scout had gone on to his
room at the colonel’s headquarters, Barlow had beheld Wilkins going
in the same direction.
That view of Wilkins following on after the scout struck sudden
suspicion into the mind of Barlow. He followed Wilkins, and saw him
go toward the room which the scout, as he knew, occupied.
“Something’s up,” he whispered to himself. Thereupon he took off his
shoes, and crept through the hall up to Buffalo Bill’s door.
So cleverly did he perform this feat that even the keen-eared scout
was not aware that a spy stood outside with eye to the keyhole, and
hearing strained to the utmost to get every word that was said. No
very close listening was needed, however, for in his rage Wilkins
lifted his voice.
Barlow’s face grew pale, and he shook with rage as great as that of
the young man who was talking to the scout. He knew that he was being
ruined by that story, and if he could have safely reached Wilkins
with a knife he would have struck him dead.
When he saw that Wilkins had about finished his revelation and would
not remain much longer in the room, Barlow retreated into the yard
for safety.
For a minute he stood in hesitation. The desire to kill Wilkins
burned like a flame in his heart.
“I’ll do it later,” he said, as he moved off; “he can’t escape me.
I’ll kill him for that just as sure as the sun rises.”
He hurried to the stables. There getting his horse he rode down to a
palisaded gate. Being the officer in command, and stating that he was
going to ride round outside for a while, he was permitted to pass out
without a word of question.
He rode straight out from the fort into the darkness for a short
distance, making the hoofs of his horse clatter, for the benefit
of the listening sentry by the gate. Then he drew the horse down,
and rode softly back until he was near the corner of the wall on
that side, and tied his horse to a stunted mesquite that grew a few
hundred yards from the wall.
Leaving the horse, he was about to slip on to the wall, and climb
quietly back into the grounds by a way he knew, when a dark form rose
apparently out of the ground before him. He stopped, hoping he had
not been seen.
“Is that you, lieutenant?”
The voice which called to him was familiar.
Barlow breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes,” he said, and immediately the
dark form came forward.
“I been wonderin’ how I could git inside to see ye.”
“Don’t speak so loud, Dave,” Barlow warned, “or you may be heard.”
“It was jes’ luck that I did see ye, too,” went on the villain.
“Your eyes are keen, to recognize me in the darkness here!” Barlow
observed.
“Lieutenant, there ain’t many better; I kin see in the dark jes’ like
a cat. What’s up?”
“Who said anything was up?”
“You did; by the way you sneaked along there; and why was you goin’
to climb over the wall here, ’stead of goin’ in through the gate? A
blind man could tell somethin’ was up by them things.”
“Don’t talk so loud!” He advanced a step and caught Smallpox Dave by
the arm. “And listen! I’m glad you’re here, for I need you. You’re
always ready to earn money, and I’m ready to pay you more for this
job than any you ever undertook for me.”
“It’s about ther nugget?”
“Don’t speak of that--here! Do you understand? Keep your mouth shut
about that. And now, listen.”
“I’m listenin’,” was the answer.
“You have a horse here, or near?”
“Right out yender.”
“I thought so. What brought you here?”
“Well, say, it was that letter you sent me. It mixed me all up.
What did you mean by askin’ me fer ter marry ye, and callin’ me yer
sweetheart and all them kind of things? Say, now, wouldn’t that
run any man crazy? What did ye mean by it? Er was it some sort of
a cipher letter you thought mebbe I’d be able to read. I tried to
figger it out, thinkin’ maybe that ‘sweetheart’ meant ther nugget,
and that when you said you wanted ter marry me you was only tryin’ to
tell me you wanted ter see me bad. I didn’t know but maybe you was
afraid ther letter would be opened, and----”
“Curse the letter!” Barlow snarled. “Don’t speak of it!”
“But why did ye send it?”
“It was a mistake--a piece of extreme carelessness on the part of the
fellow who carried it. Understand?”
“Well, he didn’t stop fer nothin’; he jes’ skipped the letter ter me
as he rid along, and then on he flew, as if ther Cheyennes was after
his scalp. What’d that mean?”
“That meant that he was simply in a hurry; that I had told him to
ride to another place and back, and he had to rush to do it and get
back in the time allowed.”
“I reckon he killed his hoss, then!”
“No, he came in all right, and the horse was all right.”
“I don’t jes’ understand about that mistake?”
“That was a letter I sent to a girl, and the letter with the nugget
in it, which I meant for you to get, she got, all through the work of
that fool messenger.”
Smallpox Dave whistled softly. “Oh-o, I see. So you wasn’t intendin’
to call me all them sweet names? But about ther nugget, and the
letter I didn’t git?”
“It was the gold nugget, and the letter appointed a place where we
could meet for a talk. But you’re here now.”
“And the nugget?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I have more time. Just now I want
you to help me. Stay right here, and soon I’ll come to you. How long
will it take to get to your horse?”
“’Bout three jumps and a half,” said Smallpox Dave, with a laugh.
“It’s clost ter hand.”
“Have your horse ready, so that you can help me with that. And
here--remember that I pay well. We may have to get out of here
to-night, if we want to get hold of the rest of those nuggets.”
He slipped a coin into the rascal’s hand, and then running to the
corner of the wall, he found a place where he could mount it, and
soon was on top of the palisades. Then he dropped, or climbed, down
on the inside, and was lost to the view of Smallpox Dave.
“Somethin’s up, more’n he was willin’ ter tell me!” thought the
desperado, as he felt of the coin and dropped it into his pocket.
“So he’s goin’ to make a strike to git that Injun gold? Well, I’ll
go with him in that, you bet; but when we git the gold if I don’t
cut his throat and skip out o’ ther country with his half as well
as mine then my name ain’t Smallpox Dave. Which it ain’t!” he added
whimsically.