CHAVORTA GORGE AND PIMA.
Buffalo Bill and Dell found it a long ten miles to Chavorta Gorge and
Pima, mainly because the night mixed up their landmarks, and they
went astray in the barren hills.
Early daylight found them on the crest of an eminence scanning the
country to the west and south. Away to the west they discerned a
distant uplift, which they took to be Medicine Bluff. To the south
stretched a ridge, but there was no sign of a gap in the ridge
leading to Chavorta Gorge.
“We’re too far to the east, Dell,” hazarded the scout, “and have been
following down the ridge. If we turn west, and keep our eyes on the
ridge as we ride, I believe we shall find the gorge.”
“By the time we find it, and get to Pima,” returned Dell, “we may
discover that Lawless has secured his new men and gone back to
Medicine Bluff. If it turns out that way, Nomad, Wild Bill and the
rest may have more on their hands than they can take care of.”
“Tenny will warn them. It is true we have lost a lot of time, but I
don’t want to turn back from Pima now, when there’s still a chance of
accomplishing our work there.”
They pointed their horses westward, and rode as swiftly as the nature
of the ground would permit.
“If Lawless has a permanent headquarters near Medicine Bluff,”
suggested Dell, “it may be that Nomad, Wild Bill, Gentleman Jim, and
De Bray have already found Mrs. Brisco.”
“I’m hoping for the best,” returned the scout. “If that has happened,
Dell, it is up to you and me to give as good an account of ourselves
at Pima, as the rest of our pards have done, or will do, at the
bluff.”
Half an hour’s riding in a westerly direction proved the truth of
the scout’s theory regarding the location of Chavorta Gorge. From a
hilltop a look toward the ridge showed them a rent in its buttressed
side.
“There’s the gorge!” exclaimed Dell.
“Good!” cried the scout. “Now to get into it, and make the best time
possible to Pima.”
The sun was mounting as they entered the gorge, but the gash was so
deep and narrow that even at midday a spectral twilight reigned in
its depths.
It was a bleak and dismal defile, walled in by gray masses of
granite, and with hardly any silt in its bed. The river that had once
flowed through the gorge had long since found other channels, and
what gold the place yielded had to be dug from the rock crevices with
iron hooks and rods.
The scout had heard all about Chavorta Gorge, although this was the
first time he had ever inspected it, and as he and Dell clattered
along through the gloom, he explained the method of mining in vogue
in the place.
“The outcasts of respectable mining-camps flock to the gorge,” the
scout added, “and prod and gouge at these granite walls for the
nuggets once brought down the defile by the vanished stream. The
place has a hard name, and rightly so, for an outcast miner is about
as hard a citizen as one can find anywhere in the West.”
“Are there many people at Pima?” asked the girl.
“I suppose the camp is about the size of Sun Dance, although my
information is rather limited on that point.”
“What can we do against even a small camp?”
“The miners, I reckon, have heard of Buffalo Bill,” said the scout,
with a flash of the eyes; “they know he is in Uncle Sam’s service,
and they’ll think twice before they invite a company of regulars over
here to drive them out and wind up their layout.”
“The very name of Buffalo Bill,” said Dell, her face lighting with
admiration, “has a power everywhere. See how it stampeded the
Cheyennes and caused them to break away from Lawless! And see, too,
how fearful Tex was, and how ready to save his own neck when he found
you had captured him.”
“It isn’t so much the name, pard,” laughed the scout, “as the fact
that the United States army is behind it.”
A few miles of twilight brought the scout and the girl to a point
where the walls of the gorge began to open out. More daylight entered
the depths and dispelled the gloom. The walls were as high and as
rugged as ever, but they continued to swerve away from each other.
An abrupt turn in the gorge brought the riders suddenly within sight
of the camp.
Knowing that there was no flood to be feared, the founders of Pima
had built the camp in the very bottom of the defile. Timber was
plentiful on the ridge, and logs had been lowered from the top of the
walls and used in the construction of cabins.
Perhaps there were a dozen buildings, all told, in the camp. They
were disreputable structures, entirely in keeping with the character
of those who occupied them.
The scout halted Bear Paw while he scanned the camp critically. A few
horses were feeding out behind one of the buildings, but there was
not a human being in sight. Among the feeding horses was one that was
equipped with riding-gear.
“Where are the miners?” queried Dell. “Are they up the gorge
somewhere, prying their nuggets out of the rocks? This camp is even
quieter than Sun Dance during the day.”
“Listen!” said the scout. “There seems to be plenty of life in one of
the buildings.”
A roar of voices broke fitfully from a large log structure in the
midst of the huddled cabins. The roar died away in silence, and then
rose again, proving that there was excitement of some sort going on
in the place.
“If Lawless is in this camp,” observed Buffalo Bill, “that’s where I
shall find him. I want you to stay with the horses, Dell,” he added,
as he dismounted, “and, if I need you, ride at once to that cabin. We
may have to get out of the gorge in a hurry.”
“Look well to yourself, pard,” adjured Dell, reaching forward and
taking hold of Bear Paw’s bridle-reins.
“I always do that,” said he. “The crack of a revolver will be your
cue to gallop into the camp.”
Sitting anxiously in her saddle, Dell watched Buffalo Bill stride
rapidly in among the log cabins.
No one appeared to ask the scout questions or to dispute his
progress, and it was quite evident that every miner who was not at
work in the gorge was at that moment in the structure toward which
the scout was laying his course.
This fact, of itself, held a portentous significance. Had Lawless
gathered the men of the camp in that building in order to harangue
them and take his pick of those willing to join his gang?
As the scout came nearer the structure, he noted the massive logs
used in its walls; the wide, high door, the gaping loopholes, cut at
intervals at shoulder height, and the strong oaken shutters swinging
at the windows.
“It has the appearance of a fort,” he said to himself. “I wonder if
the people of Pima take refuge there when the Indians are up, or if
they fear the military more than they do the reds?”
A rude sign, on the front wall of the building, near the door, bore
the words: “The Taim Tiger.”
The scout chuckled over the sign, for the “Taim” appealed to him
humorously.
“That’s about the way to spell it,” he muttered. “I don’t think the
sort of tiger they keep here is overly tame. Perhaps, though, I shall
be able to clip its claws--we’ll see.”
At the side of the door he halted and looked back to where he had
left Dell. The girl was sitting like a statue on her white cayuse.
Buffalo Bill waved his hat to her reassuringly, and then stepped
through the wide door of The Tame Tiger.
There were not so many men inside the resort as Buffalo Bill had
expected to find. The swift glance he cast around him showed him
seven or eight, including a heavy-set person behind a rough board
bar, and a supple individual clad in black, with shiny knee-boots and
a gaudy sash about his waist.
The man in black, naturally, the scout was overjoyed to find. The
scout was not unacquainted with the appearance of Lawless, and this
man, even at a rear view, answered the outlaw’s description.
The man behind the bar turned half-around as the scout entered,
and stared at him suspiciously. The others in the room, including
the man in black, were too much occupied with their own particular
business to pay the scout any attention.
Buffalo Bill moved slowly over to the bar and leaned against it.
“There are good pickings everywhere in these parts,” the man in black
was saying, “and, with a little nerve, they’re easily got at. How
did I pull off that deal on the Sun Dance trail yesterday? How did I
take down over twenty thousand dollars at one clip for myself and the
boys who were in on the game with me? It was because I know how! I
want more men, and if any of you are game enough to ride to Medicine
Bluff with me this morning, you’ve got a chance. It’s not often that
Captain Lawless has to go drumming for men, and the chance won’t come
your way again.”
It was plain that Lawless had been spending money freely for liquor.
The men who listened to him were in an amiable and receptive mood.
While he indulged in his particularly bold talk, roars of approval,
such as the scout and Dell had heard at the edge of camp, went up
again and again.
A roar, louder than any of the rest, greeted the finish of Lawless’
remarks. It was this noise, more like Bedlam turned loose than
anything else, that drowned the warning shout of the man behind the
bar. The barkeeper realized that Lawless was going too far in the
presence of a stranger. It was not the barkeeper’s shout that drew
the outlaw’s attention to Buffalo Bill, but the sudden quiet that
fell over the rowdies to whom he had been talking.
These men, all of them with vicious faces, had suddenly become aware
of the scout’s presence. Lawless, observing the direction of their
glances, whirled about.
At sight of the scout, leaning unconcernedly back against the bar,
the outlaw’s face went blank. He recoiled a step, staring as though
he could scarcely believe his eyes.
The next moment, apparently assuring himself that he was not
dreaming, he cried out an oath and jerked a revolver from his sash.
Silence had fallen over the room. The ruffians spread out, some of
them, it seemed likely, for the purpose of helping Captain Lawless,
and others with the intention of bolting, or dodging under the
tables, in case bullets began to fly.
“Don’t shoot,” said the scout, transfixing Lawless with a steady
glance.
He made no move to draw his own revolvers. When he got ready to draw,
he would do it so quickly that the movement would be imperceptible.
Lawless, bent on making a show of himself for the benefit of possible
recruits, did not make an attempt to use the revolver he had drawn.
“Well, now,” said he, “if here isn’t Buffalo Bill, the great and
only W. F. Cody, flash-light warrior and so-called king of scouts!
Why”--and Lawless turned a mocking glance into the faces of the men
behind him--“he blows right into Pima as though he belonged here. I
wonder if he knows he’s off his beat?”
“I wonder!” said the scout, with a jeering undernote. “You’re off
your beat, too, just a little. Drumming up recruits, eh?” The scout
turned his eyes on the men who had spread themselves out behind
Lawless. “This scoundrel”--and the scout indicated the man in black
with a contemptuous nod--“is a murderous outlaw. He lost two men
at the time of the hold-up he has just been bragging about, and he
finds it necessary to get more men in order to fight the force I have
brought against him. That’s what he wants you for--to help fight me
and my pards and save the twenty thousand dollars he took from the
man on the Sun Dance stage. His chestnuts are still in the fire, and
he wants you to help him rake them out.”
“That’ll do you!” shouted Lawless, waving his revolver. “You came
into this honkatonk on your feet, Buffalo Bill, but you’ll be
_carried_ out. I’ve had enough of your meddling, and here and now is
the place for me to settle the score I have run up against you.”
“You’ll settle no scores, Captain Lawless,” said the scout; “on the
contrary, the law you have so long defied has reached out after you,
and inside of two days you will be turned over to the authorities at
Fort Sill.”
“I will, eh?” sneered the bandit. “By whom?”
“By me.”
“You talk as though you were a whole company of doughboys! But that’s
your style--all talk and nothing doing. Now you’re up against me and
these men, all of whom are going to join my band of free-lances.
We’re eight against you.”
Buffalo Bill did not reply to Lawless at once. There was a bit of
work for him to do, and before he answered the outlaw he had to do
it, or find himself completely at the mercy of those in The Tame
Tiger.
His back was to the bar, and he was facing Lawless and the ruffians
in the room; but, although his face was turned from the barkeeper, he
did not allow the actions of that worthy to escape his notice.
Out of the tails of his eyes the scout saw the barkeeper duck down
and pick up a heavy wooden mallet. As soon as he had the mallet in
his hands, the barkeeper began a stealthy movement in the scout’s
direction, along the inside of the bar.
A heavy bottle stood on the bar conveniently to the scout’s
hand. Just as the barkeeper had raised the mallet to deal the
scout a treacherous blow from behind, the intended victim made a
lightninglike move.
It was difficult for those who were looking on to see exactly what
had happened. The scout did something, there was a crash of broken
glass, and the barkeeper wilted down behind the rough boards. The
bottle had vanished from the scout’s elbow.
“You say you are eight against me,” said Buffalo Bill as calmly as
though nothing had happened, “but what are eight criminals against
the authority of the United States government? Lawless, you are my
prisoner!”
This calm statement was astounding, not only to Lawless himself,
but to the others in the room as well. The quietly effective way in
which Buffalo Bill had back-capped the barkeeper had made a profound
impression upon the rascals whom Lawless was trying to interest in
his criminal operations. Now to have the scout call Lawless his
prisoner hinted of more power than he visibly possessed. How could
one man stand up against eight and appear so confident?
Anxious eyes wandered to the door, but no force was in evidence in
that direction.
“He’s bluffing!” cried Lawless. “He knows that all we’ve got to do in
order to nail him is to make a surround, and his only hope is to make
us think he’s got friends outside.”
Lawless realized that he could not dally with the situation any
longer. If he would save himself, and get the better of Buffalo Bill,
he must act now, or never.
“Say, you fellows!” Lawless cried to the ruffians, “are you going to
stand there like a lot of dummies, and let one man come into this
camp and run it? Are you going to let Buffalo Bill knock down the
barkeeper of this joint, and never lift a hand to interfere? Buffalo
Bill! Pah! He’s no more of a man than any of the rest of you. He’s
the government’s hired man, that’s all----”
Lawless’ remarks glided into the crack of a revolver and the snarl of
a bullet. Under cover of his talk, the outlaw had fired from his hip;
but his haste, and the unusual position of the weapon, had militated
against the accuracy of his aim.
The scout’s hat-brim was seen to twitch, but the scout still stood
leaning back against the bar, as calm and unruffled as before.
“Your hand isn’t as steady as it ought to be, Lawless,” remarked the
scout. “I repeat, you are my prisoner. I want to take you out of
Chavorta Gorge alive, but, if you make another attempt on me with
that revolver, you’ll leave the gorge feet first.”
Then, keeping his steely gaze fixed on Lawless, the scout stepped
toward him.
“Keep away from me!” shouted the outlaw, backing toward the door.
“One or the other of us will never leave this place alive, and that
shot goes as it lays.” He turned partly toward the rest of the men,
addressing them, but keeping his eyes on the scout. “What are you
hanging back for?” he demanded fiercely. “What sort of fighters are
you, anyhow? If you want to join my gang, show me what you can do.
I’m holding my hand, just to give you the chance.”
This was a sure-enough bluff, and it brought a laugh from the scout;
then, suddenly, Dell Dauntless, on her white cayuse, appeared in the
wide, high doorway. The girl’s face was white and determined, and she
held her riata ready for a throw.
What had brought such a plan into the girl’s head the scout could not
guess, but it was plain that she had a set purpose in mind, and was
there with the determination to carry it through at all hazards.
If Lawless had heard the hoof-falls of Silver Heels, he gave them
no heed. He dared not. To turn his face from the scout even for an
instant would have spelled inevitable disaster for him. And yet
the outlaw was not entirely ignorant of the danger behind him. The
startled exclamations of the others in the resort apprised him of the
fact that something unusual was taking place at the door.
In order to cut short the tension of the moment, Lawless started to
lift his revolver for another and a better shot at Buffalo Bill.
Before his arm was half-raised, a noose dropped over his head and
tightened about his body at the elbows.
It was an easy throw for Dell, and she at once set Silver Heels to
backing, drawing the rope taut and preventing the astounded bandit
from struggling clear of the noose.
“Bravo, Dell!” shouted Buffalo Bill, as the girl backed slowly
through the doorway, dragging the squirming Captain Lawless at the
end of the rope.
The instant the outlaw had vanished from the room, the scout faced
the gaping and amazed men he had left behind.
“I don’t know whether any of you really intended to join Lawless’
gang or not,” said he sternly; “but, if you did, I have kept you from
making a bad mistake. The reputation of this camp of yours is none
too good, and if you want to stay in the gorge and dig your gold out
of the rocks, I’d advise you to be a little less ready to take up
with such scoundrels as Lawless. That will be all!”
And the scout, with the final word, went out of The Tame Tiger and
closed the door after him.
Dell was still backing Silver Heels over the ground outside, not
daring to let the riata grow slack between her and Lawless, for fear
the latter would be able to widen the noose and free himself.
Running up to the helpless bandit, the scout threw him to the ground
and held him there.
“Cast off the rope, Dell,” he shouted, “and bring Bear Paw! Hurry up,
pard. We’ve got this camp paralyzed, for the moment, but there’s no
telling what will happen if we don’t make a quick getaway.”
Dell flung the end of her rope from the saddle-horn, and, while the
scout made the struggling Lawless secure, wrist and ankle, she rode
around the side of The Tame Tiger, and brought Bear Paw from the
place where she had left him.
By the time Bear Paw had been led to the place where the scout was
waiting, the door of The Tame Tiger had been thrown open, and those
inside were piling out. The men were shouting angrily and waving
their revolvers.
“Back!” cried Dell, drawing her six-shooters and leveling them. “The
first of you that pulls a trigger will never live to try it a second
time!”
Lifting Lawless in his arms, the scout flung him across Bear Paw and
then leaped into the saddle.
“All ready, Dell!” he called.
Silver Heels spun around on his hind feet, and the scout and the girl
shot out of the camp, the former holding Lawless at the saddle-cantle
as he galloped.
Bullets were fired after the pards, but it was a harmless and
half-hearted volley.
Buffalo Bill and Dell Dauntless were safe--and they had captured
Captain Lawless!