DRIVEN BY DESPERATION.
Buffalo Bill did not remain long in his room after hearing that
remarkable confession from young Wilkins. When he left it, he sought
that of Corporal Clendenning.
With the commandant and also the captain absent, Joel Barlow, in his
position of lieutenant, was the ranking officer at Fort Cimarron.
Buffalo Bill thought of this as he went in search of the corporal.
As if to balk him, or cause him hesitation, Clendenning was not in.
“Shall I look for him, or shall I take the sole responsibility of
this move?” was the scout’s question, when he found that Clendenning
was not to be found readily.
While debating it, he saw in the darkness Lieutenant Joel Barlow ride
down to the palisade gate and ride forth alone into the night.
This looked so suspicious that the scout lost no time in getting his
horse and following. But, quickly as he moved, Barlow had returned to
the corner of the wall and was talking with Smallpox Dave before the
scout got outside.
Thus it chanced that as Buffalo Bill rode on and away from the fort,
seeking for the crafty lieutenant, the latter, having scaled the wall
and dropped down inside, was making his way toward the abode of Mrs.
McGee, where the girl had been lodged.
When he approached this section of the house, which adjoined the big
cook room, and found Mrs. McGee’s ample form directly in front of
him, for she was sitting in the doorway and saw him before he saw
her, he was forced to play again a crafty game.
“A good evening to you, Mrs. McGee,” he said, lifting his cap
gallantly.
“Bad cess to the likes av all av ye!” said outspoken Mrs. McGee. “The
Lard niver made ye, I know, and may the divil fly away wid his works,
says I!”
“A kindly greeting, Mrs. McGee,” he said, trying to laugh and to seem
at ease. “Your tongue must have been scraping over the grindstone
lately, I’m judging. What are you swearing at me about?”
“Swearin’ at yez, is it? Who be swearin’ at ye?”
“Why, I thought you were.”
“I wouldn’t waste me breath swearin’ at ye.”
“I suppose you know that I’m in command here during the colonel’s
absence?”
“I know it. The orneriest birds fly highest whin they git the chance.”
“Come, Mrs. McGee,” he said, hardly able to control his irritation,
“what is it you have against me?”
“Do ye need to ask it?”
“I am asking it.”
“It’s about the gyrul, bless her hear-rt! She do be cryin’ her two
eyes out all the time.”
“Well, that’s just what I came down here for, Mrs. McGee, to have a
talk with her; I’ve arranged matters so that both she and that young
fellow can be released at once.”
“Do yez mane it?” said Mrs. McGee, rising.
“Nothing else.”
“Hiven be praised, thin! And I’m takin’ back all the mane things I
was thinkin’ about ye, and sayin’ to yer face as well as behint yer
back.”
“Can I go in to see her?”
Mrs. McGee hesitated.
“I’ll tell her it’s you that’s wantin’ to say her.”
She set out to do this, but crafty Barlow followed her; and when she
opened the girl’s door he was right behind her, and pushed on in
without asking permission to enter.
Mrs. McGee retreated with as good grace as she could, but hovered in
the hall, to be near if needed. She did not trust Lieutenant Barlow,
and she was ready to follow her suspicions with sharp words and sharp
deeds if they seemed to be needed.
The girl retreated across the room when she saw who her caller was.
“Come, now, don’t be foolish, May!” said Barlow, advancing upon her
in the corner to which she had fled.
She stared at him. She could not retreat farther.
“What is it you want now?” she asked doggedly.
“_You!_”
“I--I don’t understand you!”
“Well, during the past month or so I’ve tried to make myself plain on
that point.”
“And you have had my answer.”
“You couldn’t change it?”
“No.”
“All right, then. I’m here, as I ought to have informed you at once,
to tell you that I have found a way by which both you and Ben Stevens
may leave this place.”
She took a step toward him eagerly. “Do you mean it?”
“I shouldn’t say it, otherwise. I have talked with the other officers
here, and with Buffalo Bill, the scout, who has just come in; and
they are of the opinion that it is wrong to hold you and Stevens.
I beg you to understand that whatever I did I did believing it the
thing I was forced to do, not the thing I wished to do. And now if
you’ll go with me I’ll see that you are furnished a horse, and you
and Stevens may both leave here as soon as you like.”
She was about to follow him impulsively; but something bade her
stop. It may have been something peculiar in his voice, hinting of
treachery. Whatever it was, it was as if a wall had been suddenly
raised before her and she was warned not to pass it.
“You mean it?” she said, looking at him intently.
“Why should I take the trouble to come here and say it, if I didn’t
mean it?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know--I don’t know!”
He stepped to the door, expecting her to follow him, but she did not.
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked. “What’s the trouble now? You
complained because I held you and Stevens, after you were brought
here. Now what is it?”
Though he tried hard, he could not keep the irritation out of his
voice.
“I--I don’t think I’ll go until after I’ve seen Mrs. McGee.”
“Well, Mrs. McGee is just beyond here. You can see her as we pass
out.”
She saw his eagerness. Why should he be eager to have her leave that
room? Again that warning, which she felt and could not understand,
came to her; and again it was like a barrier.
“No,” she said; “I must see Mrs. McGee before I go with you.”
He did not want her to see Mrs. McGee.
“Come,” he urged, “don’t be foolish!”
He caught her by the wrist, and his grip was so fierce and painful
that a little cry was drawn from her. Thereupon the door flew open
leading into the hall, and Mrs. McGee bounced in. There was fire and
fury in her manner.
“Ye rapscallion!” she cried. “It’s me that will be scrapin’ the two
eyes out av yer head av yez don’t let go av the young leddy.”
Barlow was thrown into a rage. Time was precious to him, and he knew
the loud voice of Mrs McGee would bring some one hurrying to the spot.
“Stand back!” he said. “I’m the commander here, Mrs. McGee, and I
won’t stand any of your nonsense.”
But her rush was so fierce that he released the arm of the girl to
defend himself.
“No matter phat yez are, ye’re no gintleman!” Mrs. McGee told him, as
she scratched and struck at his face. “Run!” she panted to the girl.
“Git outside and yell fer help, while I fight this divil here. I knew
he was plannin’ the black deed. Run fur yer life!”
The girl started to run.
Barlow caught the old woman by the throat now and jammed her heavily
against the wall; and, when she still fought and scratched at him, he
dealt her a smashing blow between the eyes that dropped her like an
ox in the shambles.
As she fell he sprang over her and dashed after May Arlington, who
was running through the corridor, gasping in an attempt to make an
outcry that would bring help. He overtook her with quick leaps before
she gained the outside door, and again his hand fell on her arm.
“Come!” he said, “this is foolish. That old idiot butted in where she
had no business. I don’t intend to harm you, and----”
May Arlington turned on him, wild and desperate; though she really
did not know what she feared.
“Let me go!” she begged.
“Come with me quietly then. I mean no harm.”
“No!”
“You won’t go with me?”
“No--no, I----”
He thought he heard footsteps outside, and he knew that Mrs. McGee
would soon be on her feet and yelling behind him. He could not
parley, nor delay.
“I see I’ve got to save you, in spite of yourself,” he said. “You
don’t understand the situation, and I haven’t wanted to scare you by
telling you of it. But the Cheyennes are on the warpath and will
attack the fort in less than an hour. What I want to do is to get you
outside and to safety while I can.”
She stopped her desperate resistance.
“The Cheyennes?” she gasped.
“Yes, and we’ve got to get out of here quick.”
“And Mr. Stevens?” she asked.
“He is to be released and will join you!”
“You’re not lying to me?”
“Why should I? Come quick.”
She was almost convinced. “No!” she said, again feeling that warning,
and also because it did not seem right for her to leave Mrs. McGee.
“You won’t let me help you, to save you from the Cheyennes?”
“No. Please release my wrist. I’m going back to see what you have
done to Mrs. McGee.”
A bitter curse broke from his lips.
“Then I’ll save you in spite of yourself.”
He caught out from his pocket what seemed a very large handkerchief.
Before she divined his intent he threw it over her head; and then
clutching her by the throat, he stifled her cries.
The assault was so sudden and dastardly, and withal it so frightened
her, that she slid to the floor in a faint.
“Thank Heaven for that!” he panted.
Then he caught her in his arms, drew open the door before him, and,
carrying her thus, he stepped out into the darkness of the yard.