THE RESCUE OF NOMAD AND WILD BILL.
Following the two Cheyennes, behind whom were the prisoners, rode
another white man. This white man Cayuse recognized as Andy. Andy
brought up the rear of the little procession.
“Hyer’s a how-de-do!” exclaimed Hank Tenny. “Is thet Lawless an’ his
gang, kid?”
“All same,” said Cayuse. “White men git um guns, _muy pronto_; then
we make run to top of cañon, ketch um Lawless, save Nomad and Wild
Bill.”
“All the guns we got,” answered Lonesome Pete, “are strapped on us.
Them fellers has rifles.”
“At close quarters,” put in Blake, “our six-shooters are better than
rifles. I’m plumb anxious ter try out these new barkers o’ mine.
Then, too,” he added darkly, “I owe Lawless somethin’, an’ here’s
my chance ter even up. Couldn’t let it slip, nohow. Follow me, you
fellows!”
Blake took to the rocks, with which the country contiguous to the top
of the cañon was covered, and worked his way swiftly toward the point
where the path Lawless and his men were following came over the edge
of the wall.
Pete, Tenny, and Little Cayuse leaped briskly after Blake. The
lust for combat was running hot in the veins of all, and this, in
particular, was true of the Piute boy.
The latter’s grief over the fate of Buffalo Bill had given place to
a feeling of hope. Nomad and Wild Bill were alive, and there was a
possibility that the scout was equally well off.
The hope was slight enough, for Cayuse remembered the talk he had
overheard between Lawless, Clancy, Coomby, and Tex, and from that he
had gathered that the flood was to do the work for the scout. But, in
spite of appearances, it might be that the flood had failed.
The thought was enough to take Cayuse out of his gloom and dejection
and to send him eagerly into a pitched battle with the outlaws.
Whatever else befell, at least Nomad and Wild Bill could be rescued.
Before Blake and the others reached the top of the path, Lawless
had ridden over the edge of the wall and laid his course among the
boulders. Blake’s account was with Lawless himself, and the miner
drew one of his brand-new revolvers and ran after the leader of the
outlaws.
Pete, Tenny, and Cayuse, on the other hand, were thinking only of
rescuing Nomad and Wild Bill; so, crouching among the rocks, they
waited for the first Cheyenne to climb off the slope, and then gave
their attention to the two Indians behind him.
Pete selected one of the two Indians, and Tenny the other. As they
rose from behind the rocks to use their weapons, they were seen by
the Cheyennes.
A furious yell from the savages spread the alarm. The Cheyenne ahead
turned back, but Lawless already had his hands full with Blake and
could give no help to the rest of his gang.
The crack of six-shooters began instantly, while the yell of alarm
was still on the lips of the Cheyennes. Of the two with the
prisoners, one fell at the first fire; the pony gave a frightened
jump, and Nomad, who was laid across the pony’s back, tumbled to the
ground.
Cayuse had lost his rifle at the time he had had his encounter with
Clancy and Coomby. Pete had given him back his knife, but a knife was
of little account in such a combat.
The instant the Cheyenne dropped from his pony, Cayuse leaped to the
side of the savage and drew a couple of six-shooters from the belt at
his waist.
Meanwhile, the other Cheyenne with Wild Bill behind him, had dug his
heels into the sides of his cayuse and was making a terrific effort
to get away. He used a revolver, by way of holding his white foes
in check, but his shooting, owing to the plunging of his horse, was
anything but accurate.
The Indian who was not hampered with a prisoner had whirled his pony
about, thrown his rifle to his shoulder, and was drawing a bead on
Tenny.
As Cayuse straightened up, after securing the revolvers from the
slain Cheyenne, he saw the leveled rifle and realized Tenny’s peril.
The only thing that would save Tenny was a quick shot.
Without taking aim, Cayuse let fly a bullet. As fortune would
have it, the bullet struck the Cheyenne in the arm. The rifle was
discharged, but, its aim being deflected at the moment the trigger
was pulled, Tenny was saved by the fraction of an inch.
The Cheyenne, with one arm useless, decided he had had enough of the
fight, and headed his horse the other way.
Wild Bill, on the back of the other Cheyenne’s horse, had taken
account of what was going on, and managed to twist himself around
and drop. As he fell, Andy, who was galloping past, sent a bullet at
him; but Andy was riding too fast, and had fired in too much of a
hurry. Wild Bill escaped the bullet, and the long strides of Andy’s
horse had carried the outlaw too far for another shot.
Meanwhile, Blake had been doing his utmost to shoot Lawless. He
succeeded in putting a bullet into the scoundrel’s shoulder, and, in
exchange, got one through the wrist himself. It was Blake’s right
wrist, and his six-shooter dropped.
As Blake bent down to recover the weapon, Andy and the Cheyennes
galloped past. Lawless was reeling in his saddle, and he would have
fallen had not Andy spurred alongside and steadied him with one arm.
Thus the two white men and the two Indians, having lost their
prisoners, plunged away among the rocks, leaving the field to Cayuse,
Pete, Tenny, and Blake.
When Blake, with a handkerchief bound about his injured wrist, got
back to the top of the path, he found his jubilant companions just
freeing Nomad and Wild Bill.
“What luck, Blake?” cried Pete.
“He stopped one o’ my bullets,” Blake answered, “an’ one o’ his men
had ter help him get away.”
“Was ye hurt?” asked Tenny.
“Winged,” was Blake’s sententious response, “but I don’t reckon it
amounts to much. Anyway, I’d have been glad to get a bullet through
both wrists fer the chance o’ hittin’ Lawless. Mebby I haven’t paid
him all up fer the ride he give me on that steer, but I’ve gone a
long ways to’rds settlin’ the account.”
Nomad and Wild Bill, having been freed of their ropes, sat up and
began rubbing their benumbed limbs.
“Whar’s Buffler?” asked Nomad.
“Thet’s more’n we knows, _amigos_,” replied Pete. “We ain’t seen him
sense yesterday, when you all tripped anchor an’ sailed out o’ Sun
Dance.”
“Waal, Pete,” went on Nomad, “ef ye kain’t tell me whar Buffler is,
mebbyso ye kin ease my mind some as ter how you an’ Tenny an’ Blake
happened ter be eround hyar ter lend Leetle Cayuse a helpin’ hand?”
“We was ridin’ down ther gulch, this mornin’,” went on Pete, “jest
ter see what was goin’ on at ther Forty Thieves. Blake allowed he
was some cur’ous, an’ I knowed Tenny an’ I was. Jest as we got clost
ter ther ore-dump, we seen a slather o’ water, high as the wall of
a ’dobie, makin’ a dead-set at us. We climbed out o’ the way, and
stood thar ter watch ther flood slam past. While we was lookin’, we
seen Cayuse tryin’ ter git out o’ the cañon. Tenny is some punkins
at riata-throwin’, so he uncoils his rope an’ draps it over Cayuse’s
head; then we hauls Cayuse in, bronk an’ all. We crawled up on the
gully wall, a little arter that, an’ seen Lawless an’ his outfit
climbin’ up the side o’ the cañon, so we all made a _pasear_ around
among the rocks with the intention o’ headin’ the gang off, an’
gittin’ you fellers out o’ their hands. I reckon we done it, hey?”
“I reckon you did, old sport,” said Wild Bill, “and you’ve got our
gratitude. They were after our scalps, those fellows, and they’d have
taken them before they had carried us far from the cañon. That’s the
sort of a duck Lawless is. I’ve been mixed up with him enough so that
I know his caliber. Whoosh!” and Wild Bill got up and stretched his
arms. “I’m feeling like a back number this trip, Nomad. The way the
pair of us was snaked out of that level, leaving pard Cody to take
care of himself, is something I’m going to remember with regret as
long as I live. I say, Cayuse!”
The boy, who had been standing at the edge of the cañon, turned
around.
“Where did all that water come from, do you know?” went on Wild Bill.
“From down-gulch,” said Cayuse.
“And flowed up-hill, eh?”
“Thet’s what bothered me,” said Pete, “whar it all come from an’ why
it was flowin’ contrary ter natur’.”
“It wasn’t flowin’ contrary ter natur’,” said Tenny. “Jest below hyer
the gulch bottom pitches this way, an’ thar’s quite a sink a mile
farther to’rds Sun Dance. I’ve noticed thet lots o’ times while I was
goin’ an’ comin’. But whar the water come from is a mystery. Thar
ain’t been no cloud-burst, as fur as I’ve seen.”
Cayuse, in a very few words, explained where the water had come from.
As Lawless’ diabolical plot to wipe out the scout was borne in upon
the mind of old Nomad, his rage became tremendous.
“Confound ther pizen, no-’count whelp!” he shouted, shaking his fists
in the direction the outlaws had taken. “Instid o’ snakin’ Buffler
out o’ thet level, he left him thar ter drown! Did ther water come up
over ther top o’ thet ore-dump?” he asked suddenly, turning to Pete
and the others.
“The water buried thet ore-dump clean out o’ sight!” declared Pete.
Nomad stood for an instant as though stricken, then rushed for the
rim of the cañon and looked down.
The waters were receding as quickly as they had risen. The ore-dump
of the Forty Thieves was already shouldering aside the waves.
Nomad stared, realized what must have happened, then flung himself
down and covered his face with his hands.
Wild Bill scowled, his eyes glittered, and he whirled away from the
cañon.
“If Captain Lawless has wiped out Cody, the best and truest pard a
man ever had,” said he, between his clenched teeth, “Nomad and I will
run out his trail--and, at the end of it, we’ll take all the pay the
murderous whelp can give us.”
“Ye speak true, Hickok,” growled Nomad, looking up; “Lawless owes us
er heap, an’ he’ll hev ter settle.”