Lieutenant Danforth and the bulk of his squad attended Buffalo Bill
on his search for the gang of outlaws. As soon as the coach was well
on its way, they rode to the spot where Boyd Bennett and his men had
left the trail, and, despite the fact that it was rapidly growing dark,
they picked up the hoofmarks of the renegades’ horses and followed them
rapidly for some miles.
Although the sky was clear and there was a long evening, the party of
trailers could not keep on for long. They got well into the hills; but
the tracks of the outlaw gang showed that Bennett had kept on at a
swift pace, and it was utterly useless for the troop to wear out their
own mounts and possibly miss the trail itself after dark.
“It’s a long chase, as a stern chase always is, Dick,” said the scout.
“We might as well make up our minds to that, first as last.”
“So I suppose, Bill.”
“But as long as we’re once on the scoundrel’s trail, I’ll stick to it
to the end,” said Cody grimly. “Better rest up the men and horses and
make an early start.”
“Right you are. How’s yonder place for a camp?”
“In among those rocks--yes. We can set sentinels on the top of them.
Nobody can approach us then.”
“All right. Too bad I didn’t drop that caribou. A little fresh meat
would have been agreeable.”
“No smoke, boy. Can’t afford to make a fire. We’re not only following
some pretty shrewd white men, but we’re in the Injun country.”
“Thunder!”
“Cold fodder to-night,” said the scout firmly.
“Well. My orderly always packs a small spirit-lamp. He can make shift
to get us all a cup of coffee,” said Danforth, and he proceeded to give
the necessary orders, and the troop was soon bivouacked for the night.
The horses, well hobbled, grazed within bowshot of the camp, and a
sentinel placed so as to overlook them where they were on the plain.
No wily enemy might approach them without the watcher, if he be
sharp-eyed, seeing the marauder. Yet Buffalo Bill did not altogether
trust to the watchfulness of the troopers.
He was in need of rest, and he rolled up in his blanket and left
Danforth to smoke his pipe alone, early in the evening. But when the
midnight watch turned out the old scout arose like a specter, spoke to
the corporal in charge, and stole out of the camp. Knowing the avarice
of Boyd Bennett and suspecting that of his men, he felt sure that they
would not give up so easily the chance of finding and appropriating
the pay-chest which Captain Hinkley had lost his life to defend.
In the first blush of the attack by the troopers, the outlaws had
broken and fled. But they would recover their nerve. They might be
joined by some of Oak Heart’s braves, with whom Cody knew Bennett
fraternized. They might even hear the full particulars of the Indians’
hold-up of the stage, and be more confident than ever of the fact that
Cody had hidden the treasure.
The scout believed that, as he and Danforth had moved so quickly,
the coach with its present guard would get through in safety to Fort
Advance. It was probably there by this time, in fact. But Bennett
and his men might come back to see what was really being done by the
troopers, and they would be sure to fall upon the bivouac. Therefore,
the scout was on the alert.
He made a complete circuit of the camp, but out of sight and gunshot of
the sentinels. He did not care to furnish a target for his own friends.
Having agreed with the corporal on a signal, he would not come in
without sounding it, and so warning the bluecoats of his return.
However, he found no sign of an enemy, although he spent an hour and
a half in creeping about the vicinity. And this very fact amazed and
somewhat troubled him. He could not imagine Bennett under ordinary
circumstances flying from an enemy without sending back a scout to
learn if the trail was not being followed. Cody was dissatisfied. He
feared that the reason he had not discovered such a scout was because
it was some person more wily than himself!
No white man could be that. Ordinarily Buffalo Bill would pitch his own
cunning against a redskin’s, too; but in this case, if there was an
Indian creeping about the camp, he would have the advantage over the
Border King. He might have crawled to the summit of some hill and from
that vantage overlook the encampment of Uncle Sam’s troops.
Having encircled the encampment, Buffalo Bill was undecided whether
to return to the bivouac--his blanket beckoned him--or to once more
make the circle. Suddenly he heard Chief whinny loudly. There was some
activity among the horses; but the scout heard the sentinel’s voice
and knew that the mob of animals would not stampede. But his own mount
screamed again--angrily.
“By thunder!” muttered the Border King. “That means one thing, and one
thing only. Chief smells a redskin--or more than one!”
Yet he did not start down into the encampment to arouse the men. The
horses quieted down, and there was no further warning from the big
white horse. The scout, however, glided out upon the plain, taking
advantage of the shadow of every bush and boulder, and so stood beside
the soldier watching the herd. He came so suddenly that the man was
startled and grunted:
“Holy Jo, Cody! You give me a start.”
“See what an Injun might do to you.”
“Not much. I’d smell the prowling devils,” said the trooper confidently.
“What was the matter with my horse?”
“That white fellow?”
“Yes.”
“Dunno. Just squealed.”
Cody thought to himself: “Well, your smelling powers are not equal to
Chief’s. _He_ certainly got the taint of redskin on the air.”
Aloud the scout asked:
“Which way was the horse headed when he squealed--did you notice?”
“Just about as he is now. What’s the matter?”
“Humph! didn’t know but the horse was sick,” replied Cody dryly, and he
walked through the herd till he stood beside Chief.
“So, boy! what’s the matter?” he said soothingly, smoothing the horse’s
muzzle.
Chief whinnied softly; his fright was passed. Suddenly the sentinel,
who had idly followed Cody’s movements with his glance, became aware of
the fact that the scout had disappeared! It was not a dark night, and
the plain was open; but the scout was gone as completely as though he
had been suddenly wiped out of existence!
“Well, I’ll be switched!” grunted the surprised trooper, stepping
forward, and then stopping again. “I could have swore that feller stood
by his hoss a minute ago.”
And he was right on that point, of course. But Buffalo Bill had slipped
the lariat from his saddle-bow and suddenly dropped into the grass at
his horse’s feet. Chief began to crop the grass again, and paid no
attention while his master crept away from the herd. Cody knew that the
light breeze had brought but a single whiff of Indian to the horse’s
nostrils. The redskin could not be far away.
He crept across the plain and finally reached rising ground, where
clumps of brush and an occasional tree offered shelter. He had been
over this ground before, but he knew that some prowling enemy had been
here more recently. He remained almost flat upon the ground and gazed
all about him, seeking to see the silhouette of any lurking figure
against the sky.
And in this he was successful. At first he overlooked it, believing
it to be a tree. Then he saw it move slightly, and finally made out
the body of a tall man standing beside a sapling, some distance up the
hill. Eagerly the scout crawled up the slope, and finally gained a
point above and beyond the stationary figure.
Before he could accomplish more, however, the figure he had watched
so carefully suddenly stepped away from the tree. He heard a guttural
voice grunt the single syllable:
“Ugh!”
For an instant Cody feared his own presence had been discovered. Then
he saw what had drawn the ejaculation from the redskin. A second figure
had appeared on the hillside. Cody lay behind a boulder and watched the
two men approach each other. There was a rapid interchange of guttural
observations in the Sioux tongue. Two scouts were reporting to each
other what they had discovered about the bivouac and the numbers of the
pony soldiers there encamped.
For all he knew there might be a big party of reds within call. He
scarcely believed so, considering how the reds hate to travel by night;
but the presence of these scouts suggested, at least, that Boyd Bennett
had influence enough over the tribesmen to send these two back to do
his dirty work.
However, the scout was minded to make a bold play.
He rose up softly from behind the boulder. The Indians’ backs were
half-turned to him, and their heads were very close together while they
whispered softly. Cody poised himself, and, judging his distance, began
to circle his rope--which he had brought with him on the chance of
tying up a prisoner--carefully.
Swish!
The serpentine loop hurtled over the heads of the redskins,
and--dropped! There were two startled screams, both of which were
choked off instantly.
The scout flung himself backward and drew the horsehair noose taut. It
had caught one Indian around the neck and over the shoulders, and the
other had but one hand free. The first jerk yanked both off their feet
and held them together with such firmness that they could not rise or
stretch the loop. They were like one enraged animal, struggling and
lashing out upon the ground!
Buffalo Bill ran in, wound the slack of the line about their writhing
bodies and about their legs. In a couple of minutes they were so mixed
up with that rope that it was hard to tell which Indian was which!