THE LIVING BARRICADE.
In one way, it was unfortunate that Pizen Jane had released old Nomad
at that time. A road agent who had heard the cry of the dog owl
from the hut, and wondered about it, came over to investigate, and
appeared so suddenly and inopportunely that he discovered what Pizen
Jane had done. With a yell of astonishment and wrath, he hurled the
woman aside and leaped on the old trapper.
Under ordinary conditions, Nomad might have engaged this desperado
successfully; but now his arms and legs were benumbed, and his whole
body was sore and stiff, from the long congestion of blood caused by
the bonds that had been on him.
Nevertheless, though surprised, and taken at such a disadvantage,
the old trapper put up a stiff fight. He slashed a wide gash in the
outlaw’s face with the knife Pizen Jane had given him; and then,
tripping the outlaw, he rolled with him over and over on the floor,
clawing and striking with all his might.
Pizen Jane flew to the aid of Nomad, and set upon the road agent.
How the singular combat would have ended, if there had been no
interference, cannot be stated.
There was interference. Other outlaws, drawn by the noise, ran to the
hut; and in a very little while both old Nomad and Pizen Jane were
overpowered and their weapons taken from them.
Snaky Pete came to the hut, drawn by the yells of his men, and
learned what had happened. His rage passed all bounds. He drew a
revolver, and for an instant it seemed that he meant to shoot both
old Nomad and Pizen Jane. Then another thought came to him.
“Tie ’em, and keep ’em tied,” he said; “and send Pool Clayton here. I
want to see him bad.”
That sounded ominous.
Pool Clayton was called, and came forward with fear and trembling. He
had told his mother not long before that he was willing to leave the
outlaws, and glad to do it, if she would accompany him. He had been
expecting that she would do that soon. It was delayed, he thought, by
the difficulty of getting out of the camp.
The young man had been given a good deal of time for serious
reflection. His dreams of what a road agent’s life was like had not
come true; and, besides, he had been aroused to a realization of
the enormity of the offense itself. In addition, his heart had been
touched by his mother.
But perhaps the strongest of the forces that had moved him was a
recollection of Snaky Pete’s commands to him to shoot old Nomad.
That, with his present fear of personal danger in the battle with the
troopers that seemed imminent, had made him want to get out of the
camp without delay.
It seemed to him that his talks with his mother, and even his
thoughts and desires to get away, had become known to Snaky Pete,
when the latter sent for him, commanding him sharply to appear at
once.
On arriving at the hut, he saw Nomad and Pizen Jane bound and
prisoners. A startling fear that he was to be commanded to shoot not
only Nomad but his mother came to terrify him.
“Tie him!” Snaky Pete roared.
The road agents threw themselves upon the fear-stricken youth,
quickly subdued him, and bound him. Then Snaky Pete took occasion to
explain to his men just what he meant to do.
“Buffalo Bill thinks mighty well, seems to me, of them three people,”
he said, pointing to the three prisoners. “It’s my opinion that Pool
and his mother got in here on purpose to betray the band, and lead
enemies to it. In my jedgment, they’d have done something to-night,
by way of weakenin’ the barricades, mebbe, that would have got us all
killed er captured.”
The murmurs of the desperadoes rose unpleasantly as they listened to
these accusations.
“I been watchin’ Pool ever sence he refused to shoot that old duffer
there when I ordered him to. That’s one p’int in the proof that he is
ole Nomad’s friend and Cody’s friend; and that woman I know to be the
pizenest rattlesnake in many ways that ever crawled on the earth.
“Jes’ the same, I ain’t goin’ to shoot ’em--not now! I want ’em put
up in front of the barricades, where the troopers can see ’em; and
then, if the soldiers want to shoot into the barricades, let ’em do
it.”
It was a long speech, and its utterance cost him effort and pain;
yet he felt savagely gratified by it. He had determined on the death
of Pizen Jane, and of Pool Clayton and Nick Nomad.
If the troopers, in trying to take the barricades, killed the three,
well and good; for a time he hoped their position there would hold
the soldiers back. If the prisoners were not thus slain, he would
have them shot as enemies after the coming fight was over. He still
had confidence in his men and in the strength of his position, and
was feverishly vengeful and defiant.
Pool Clayton wilted and cried out for mercy when he was dragged by
the road agents out to one of the barricades, and was lifted over it
and tied to the logs of which it was composed. His mother was tied by
his side. They were on the outside of the barricade, and looked up
the dark pass, where they half expected to see soon the flaming of
the carbines of troopers.
Placed thus, where the rain of lead could not miss them, it seemed to
Pool Clayton that his end was at hand. He cried out in bitterness and
anguish of spirit, reproaching himself for the evil course which had
led to this horrible fate.
“Pool,” said Pizen Jane, touched by his moaning outcries, “there
aire things that aire a heap worse’n to die this way; and one of the
things that aire worse is bein’ a successful road agent. Fer that is
a thing that would shore destroy you, body and soul.”
“Oh, don’t talk that way!” he wailed. “Don’t talk that way! We must
escape! We must get away!”
He threw himself to and fro in his agonies.
One of the outlaws came climbing over the barricade.
“See here,” he said, “if you don’t stop that yelpin’, I’ve got orders
to gag ye. Now, will you stop?”
Pool Clayton stopped, but lay shivering against the logs, white-faced
and wild-eyed, overcome by terror.
At the other barricade Nick Nomad had been tied in the same way.
But Nomad was showing no cowardly spirit. He believed in Buffalo
Bill’s ability to accomplish even wonders, and he therefore had hope.