THE CAPTURE OF PANTHER PETE.
Panther Pete was not dead.
The sturdy blow of the girl had felled him, and he had fallen
insensible to the earthen floor, and there he lay for some time as
unconscious as a log. For the girl had struck hard, and she had
struck true, though her strength did not enable her to deliver a blow
of skull-cracking force.
Panther Pete came back to consciousness, and himself discovered that
the girl was gone, and that the door of the hut stood wide open. The
discovery stirred him into renewed life.
He crawled out of the hut and called for aid; and, when he gained the
attention of some of his men, he berated them in hard language for
their inattention, which had enabled the girl to escape thus from the
hut, and pass, as she had done, almost through the midst of the camp.
It was at this juncture that the outcry was raised which the girl
heard as she fled away through the pass toward the more open country
beyond.
Panther Pete staggered into his own hut, and took down from a shelf
a bottle of whisky, from which he drank, tipping it to his lips, and
drinking deep and long.
The fiery stuff brought back his strength somewhat, and put a furious
courage into his heart.
The top of his head had a lump on it that was swelling fast, and felt
as big as a goose egg; but, when one of his men examined the place,
they could not find that the skin had been broken.
But the blow had given him a terrific headache; he said he felt as
if the top of his head was caving in; and now and then, as he tried
to hurry about, and ordered others to hurry, he staggered, as if the
liquor had already taken effect in his legs and had made them wabbly.
However, he ordered up his horse; and then followed the pursuers,
whom he had sent on ahead, and who were trailing the girl with the
dogs.
Panther Pete disliked to use the dogs, for their baying could be
heard a long distance, and, if so heard, might guide to the place
persons whom he would rather not see there. He knew that his position
was at the time peculiarly perilous. Friends of the girl could be
expected to make an immediate search for her; and, besides, Buffalo
Bill and Wild Bill, he felt sure, were now in that section, with
designs against him. For this reason, after the dogs had gone on a
while, and then had begun to bay louder, he called them off, lest the
baying should reach farther than he wished. He wanted to recapture
the girl, but he desired his own security even more.
This withdrawal of the dogs, though not understood by the girl, came
as a blessed relief to her, just at a time when she was on the point
of despair. They had gained the top of the ridge, and were hot on her
trail, with their loud bellowing puncturing the night air in a way
to carry terror to her very soul. Then suddenly their deep booming
ceased, and was no more heard.
She fancied they had lost the trail, and had turned in a wrong
direction; and, with a prayer of thankfulness, she hastened on again,
her feet now torn and bleeding and her strength fast giving way.
Panther Pete led that night pursuit of the girl as well as he could;
and he cursed her and himself with fiery anger, calling himself a
fool for being so kind to her and so careless, and calling her by
epithets she would have blushed to hear.
When daylight came this pursuit was still being carried on, but it
had lost its first force, and was conducted by the men as an almost
aimless search of the country close about the entrance to the hidden
valley.
After the sun rose Panther Pete took it up again himself, giving
earnest orders to his men, and instructions as to how to use the
dogs. Then he set forth alone, looking for the trail in what he
thought the most likely places, following along the narrow path that
led directly away from the valley entrance.
This took him by and by across the trail which led from the outer
plains toward the “trap” where his sharpshooters were at the
moment in hiding and to which his “stool pigeons” were at the time
conducting the men whom they had fallen in with--Buffalo Bill and his
pard, and young Denton and Silas Deland.
The scouts with their prisoner were coming along that trail, guided
by Garland. They were wide awake and wary.
Garland had undertaken as difficult a thing as he had ever attempted,
in trying to lead these experienced plainsmen into that trap.
At intervals Buffalo Bill rode his horse to the top of some hill or
ridge, and from these higher elevations surveyed the surrounding
country with his field glass. While thus engaged, he beheld a
horseman, some distance away.
When he leveled the glass on this horseman, he was given a genuine
surprise, for the man was Panther Pete, and he resembled the scout in
his general appearance and make-up so strongly that Buffalo Bill knew
he was looking on his counterpart--on Panther Pete, the rascal who
had played his desperate game so successfully that for a long time he
had deceived the whole country as to his real identity.
The scout’s anger rose as he looked at that man. Then he came to the
quick determination to capture the rascal, if it could be done.
He moved back, and, dismounting, tied his horse; then crept forward.
He noted the course Panther Pete was taking, and saw that he would
pass along a thread of trail that led beneath some bluffs not far off.
The scout drew back, and then, descending, he hurried to put himself
on top of those bluffs.
By this time Panther Pete was quite near, coming on at an easy jog of
his horse. There was nothing in his appearance to tell of the pain
he suffered, for his head was throbbing, nor of what he had gone
through, nor of what he was now trying to do.
But Buffalo Bill saw his chance, a desperate one, and made ready for
it, crouching on the bluff. He could have shot Panther Pete without
difficulty, but he did not want to do that; he wanted to take him
alive.
When Panther Pete’s horse passed beneath him, Buffalo Bill crouched
for the spring.
“I’ll stop your deviltry right now,” said the scout, in a rage, as he
leaped at the desperado whose clever masquerading as his double had
brought disgrace on the honored name of Buffalo Bill.
He hit the horseman fair, in that leap; and Panther Pete went over
sideways, out of the saddle, and fell to the ground, with the
dauntless scout falling on top of him.
The horse gave a jump, and then ran, frightened by what had occurred.
Buffalo Bill set his fingers to the throat of Panther Pete, who was
too stunned by that sudden onslaught and fall to make much resistance.
“Surrender!” was the sharp command.
Panther Pete tried to struggle, but he was helpless.
“Surrender!”
“I--I surrender!” the rascal gurgled in fright.
Buffalo Bill lifted his revolver and fired it, for the purpose of
summoning Wild Bill; and soon after he heard the clatter of Wild
Bill’s pony--the pony that had been the property of Garland.
They soon came in sight round the end of the hill--Garland mounted
in front and tied, and behind him, on the same pony, Wild Bill, with
revolver ready.
There was never a more astonished man than Garland, when the pony had
brought him under the bluffs, and he saw there his leader, helpless
and choking in the grasp of Buffalo Bill.
Wild Bill slid from the back of the pony and ran to his pard’s aid.
“Just tie him, as quick as you can,” said Buffalo Bill.
He released the villain’s throat, but held his revolver before his
eyes.
Wild Bill lost no time in complying. While doing this, he was
startled by hearing the clatter of the pony’s feet.
Garland, thoroughly frightened now, had started the pony, in the hope
of escaping, even though tied.
“Stop!”
Wild Bill drew down on him.
“I can’t stop,” Garland yelled; “the pony is running away with me!”
“Oh, you can’t, eh?”
Wild Bill yelled to the pony, commanding it to stop, and saw Garland
dig his tied heels into the pony’s side to make it go on. His
revolver cracked, and the pony pitched over with a bullet in its head.
In its fall it pinned Garland’s leg under it, and held him fast; so
that, with the cords on him, he was in a helpless position.
“Stay there a while,” said Wild Bill grimly, as he turned back to aid
Buffalo Bill in securing the robber chief.
As they tied Panther Pete they marveled at his cleverness, for they
saw that his resemblance to Buffalo Bill was largely due to the
clothing he had on, to the manner in which he wore his hair and
beard, together with the fact that he was a large and tall man.
Out of his eyes now looked terror; for he knew who these men were,
and he feared them with a deathly fear.