CLOSING IN.
Snaky Pete had in his band some of the finest trailers of the West,
some being men who had made their mark as scouts in earlier and
better days.
These men had “gone wrong” at last, and were now outlaws; but they
had not lost their skill in scouting and trailing; and on them Snaky
Pete relied for information concerning Buffalo Bill, if the latter
was really in the country.
After leaving camp, Snaky Pete’s scouts and spies broke into two
bands, one being under his command, and the other under command of a
faithful lieutenant whose cruelties had gained him the name of The
White Wolf.
It was now the night of the second day of their investigations, after
news had been received from the town confirming the information of
Buffalo Bill’s presence and mission. Word had come to Snaky Pete that
Buffalo Bill had been sighted.
As strange as anything was the statement that the great border scout
was accompanied by a woman of hatchety face and elderly aspect.
The informants brought a description of the place where Buffalo Bill
and this female had gone into camp; and, after a discussion with
his men, Snaky Pete decided to try to surround the scout there, and
capture or kill him.
Horses were left behind, lest by neighing or stamping they should
reveal their presence to the man whom the outlaws hoped to take.
At two o’clock in the morning the late moon came up, giving light;
and Snaky Pete delayed his attack until that hour, for the camp of
the scout was in a dark hollow, and light was needed to make an
attack on it successful. By the hour of midnight Snaky Pete and his
men were on the mountain slope just below this camp, and they were
creeping up the slope when the first faint light in the cast heralded
the rising moon.
Buffalo Bill had been duly diligent, yet he knew nothing of this
stealthy approach of the road agents who were determined on his
destruction. He had fallen asleep in the earlier part of the night,
but now he was awake, having been aroused at about one o’clock. At
his command Pizen Jane had lain down, dropping into sound slumber.
The scout knew he was in a dangerous country. In addition to the road
agents who had captured Nomad, Indians were known by him to be in the
neighborhood. All signs pointed to this as a particularly dangerous
locality.
The scout sat in the darkness, before the rising of the moon. His
feet were over the concealed fire in a hole in the ground, to keep
them warm, for the night was cold, and his coat was drawn tightly
about him. His rifle was by his side, and in their places were his
revolvers and knife.
The night was very dark just before the moon’s appearance, and he
observed that it also was remarkably quiet. Though some wolves howled
afar off, near at hand not a sound was to be heard.
This was to his mind suggestive, and portended danger. He thought it
meant Indians.
Whether they were crawling on him or not, he could not tell, but
that Indians were moving about seemed probable, even in the deathly
stillness.
His horse, which had been grazing peacefully, became restless.
However, after a few snorts it settled down again to nibbling at the
scanty grass, though soon it ceased to feed.
The scout rose now, undoubling his tall form and standing erect
in the darkness, with rifle in hand and head bent in a listening
attitude. He saw the dark shape where the woman lay.
“No use to arouse her,” was his thought; “she needs all the sleep she
can get.”
Pizen Jane was still an enigma to him, in spite of the vast amount
of talking she had done. The information given of herself had not
been much more informing than word puzzles, but she had clung to him,
refusing to leave him, while stoutly declaring that her mission there
was the same as his--to hunt down outlaws.
When he heard nothing, the scout walked out to his horse. He found it
with head up and ears pricked forward, as if it either saw or heard
something suspicious.
Standing by his horse, with hand on the lariat close to its nose, the
scout looked out into the silent darkness, while his imagination
pictured there crawling Indian forms. He did not think of outlaws.
The moon rose, lighting the rim of the hollow where he had pitched
camp; but the rim was covered with a thick growth of bushes and small
trees, and so concealed from his searching eyes the forms of the
desperadoes who had crept up there.
Suddenly they jumped into view, in the red moonlight, yelling as
wildly as if they were Indians; and, with revolvers cracking, they
sprang down into the hollow, where they expected to find the scout
asleep.
With one swift circling motion Buffalo Bill drew his knife and cut
the rope that picketed his horse. In another instant he was on its
back, and then, with a wild dash, he broke through the thin line of
outlaws on that side.
He knew that if he returned to assist Pizen Jane his life would pay
for it; and he preferred that she should fall into the hands of these
men, leaving him alive, so that he might aid her later; a thing he
certainly could not do if he rushed down there and fell under the
fire of their revolvers. Yet he had a certain twinge of conscience,
which seemed to accuse him of cowardice and an abandonment of Pizen
Jane.
“But she can take care of herself, if any person in the world can,
and later I can do something for her,” he thought, as he drove his
horse pell-mell through the cracking bushes and the whipping branches
of the low trees.
The outlaws near him yelled, and took snapshots at him; and soon
other shots came ripping through the brush after him.
But he had cleared the cordon which Snaky Pete was certain he had
drawn around the camp; and, with a good horse under him, he felt
secure, even though that horse had now neither saddle nor bridle.
He waved his hand grimly in the direction of the yelling outlaws, as
his horse galloped on into the open, and he saw the gray prairies at
the foot of the mountains lying before him in the light of the rising
moon.
“Catch me, if you can!” he shouted, almost gay in the thought of the
manner in which the outlaws had let him slip through the meshes of
their net.
Then he recalled that now both the woman and old Nick Nomad were
prisoners in their hands, while he had escaped by the narrowest
margin; and, realizing the delicate and dangerous work lying now
before him, he mentally girded himself anew for the desperate work
thus laid on him.