Buffalo Bill turned his eyes from the bleeding corpse of his enemy,
staggered to a near-by boulder, and dropped upon it to rest. His own
strength was far spent. Besides, the wound he had received in his
shoulder, aggravated by his long, cold swim and the violent exertions
of the past few minutes, had broken out bleeding afresh. Boyd Bennett
would never know how near he came to being victor himself in this awful
battle!
As for the consequence, he dropped upon the rock, exhausted and ill.
The hardiest and most seasoned veteran comes to the end of his tether
at last, and for thirty-six hours Cody had been riding hard, and
fighting hard, and swimming hard--and all without bite or sup! There
had been no time for the preparation of food when he left his cave in
the mountain to follow Boyd Bennett and the White Antelope, and since
that time he had neither dared shoot game nor had he seen the time to
cook and eat.
And that which fairly quenched his spirit now was the thought that he
seemed to have taken all this hard labor upon his shoulders for naught.
True, his old-time enemy was finally dead. Boyd Bennett, the outlaw of
the Overland Trail, the Death Killer of the Utah Sioux, would never
again trouble mortal man--unless his spirit came back to haunt the
scenes of his bloody deeds.
But Buffalo Bill had not put forth all this effort merely to best this
old-time foe. First of all, he desired to save the White Antelope, but
he seemed to have failed in this. Boyd Bennett had plainly carried his
threat into execution. He had actually drowned the unfortunate girl.
It had been that thought, more than any other, that had nerved Buffalo
Bill to drive the steel home into Bennett’s heart!
“All gone now--the last of the three!” muttered the scout, passing
his hand across his shaking lips. “And such horrible deaths for all!
Death by the bullet and the fall from the cliff. Death by the war-club
and tomahawk. And now death by the river--and the hands of a cursed
villain. Horrible! horrible!”
These enigmatical remarks, uttered aloud, drowned a rustling in the
bushes behind him. Suddenly a light hand fell upon his shoulder. The
scout did not start--his nerves were too steady. But he glanced at the
small, brown hand, and then looked up along the arm, turning his head
until he looked full into the face of the White Antelope. There his
gaze hung, while his lips remained speechless for the moment.
“Pa-e-has-ka has killed his enemy and mine. This makes the White
Antelope and Long Hair friends.”
She held out her hand to him, and the scout took it, still in a daze.
“By holy!” he muttered. “I sure thought she was dead.”
“What is it my white brother mutters?”
“I reckoned you were drowned, White Antelope,” repeated Cody.
“Nay. I held my breath under the water. But that wicked man came near
to drowning me.”
“I should say he did!”
“Then he would have revived me; but I remained as though unconscious,
for I feared him.”
“You’ll have need to fear him no more.”
“Ah! it was a good fight! I watched. The Long Hair is indeed a great
chief.”
Cody shuddered and glanced away. He did not like to think of the
daughter of Oak Heart’s white wife viewing with satisfaction such a
terrible battle as that which had just cursed this spot.
“The Long Hair is cold. Let him come to the fire yonder and dry his
body and rest.”
“I don’t care if I do. I feel like I was frozen clear to my marrow.
You’ve got a fire, have you?”
“Death Killer made it to dry us by. Now you shall have it,” she said.
The scout basked for some minutes in the heat of the fire, which White
Antelope heaped with fresh fuel. But he could not remain inactive for
long. His perturbed mind, relieved by the discovery of the girl’s
safety, instantly fixed upon other worriments.
Her absence from the encampment of the Sioux would have long since been
noted. Oak Heart would be troubled by her absence. And they were a long
way from the valley in which the Indian village lay.
Besides, they were marooned on this island in the middle of the
river. The canoe was wrecked, and Cody shrank from making that long
swim to the mainland again. Besides, he doubted the girl’s ability to
accomplish such a task.
There was nothing to eat on this island, however, and food they must
have before long. At least, the scout felt the need of it.
So he rose up very quickly from his reclining posture and went to the
side of the island which faced the river-bank from which he had swum.
It was already twilight, but he glanced sharply up and down the bank
for some wandering party that might help them. The Indians might be
searching for their canoes; he could not expect any of the freighters
to come down so far as this, for the main trail turned off some miles
above.
But not a soul appeared. The only living object on the river-bank which
he saw was Chief, quietly grazing.
“Then our hope lies in you, faithful old horse!” cried Cody, and he
uttered a shrill whistle.
The white horse raised his head, whinnied, and trotted down to the
water’s edge. Buffalo Bill gave the call which he used when he desired
Chief to come to him. The dumb brute understood, but he pawed the
gravel at the river’s edge and seemed to hesitate. The distance across
was wide, and the sullen current was strong. He had already been in it
and had been almost swept away.
Buffalo Bill repeated his call. The horse threw up his head, neighed
intelligently, and trotted down the riverside to the lower end of
the island. There the current was not so swift. Without hesitation,
this time, the noble horse plunged into the flood and swam with head
high, and occasionally neighing at his master, toward the island.
Being untrammeled by saddle or bridle, the creature handled himself
remarkably well in the current, and forged ahead without being swept
much out of his course by the stream.
When he came near the shore, however, Buffalo Bill was forced to rush
in, cling to Chief’s mane, and guide the horse to land. There the
brute climbed out and shook himself like a great dog.
“Ah! the white chief has control over even the ponies,” said the Indian
maid, in admiration.
“And lucky he does,” muttered Buffalo Bill to himself. “Without old
Chief we’d be roosting here till kingdom come!”
But he had to give the horse time to breathe before setting him at the
current again. It was no easy pull across. Finally he led the white
horse down into the water and gave the girl a boost upon his back,
where she straddled him, clinging to his thick mane.
“Let him have his head,” Buffalo Bill commanded. “He won’t need any
guidance, but will bring us both safe ashore.”
He urged Chief into the deep water, and swam by his side himself,
resting a hand now and then on the beast’s shoulder, and encouraging
him with his voice. Tired as they both were, man and beast found the
pull tremendous. They were carried some distance down the river, but
that did not so much matter. Only the water chilled Cody to the bone,
and he had visions of rheumatism, that fell disease that lays hold upon
the woodsman early in life because of exposure and privation.
It was somewhat of a battle to reach the shore, but they accomplished a
landing at last, and White Antelope leaped down from Chief’s back and
patted him.
“A brave horse, and worthy of carrying a brave man like Long Hair,” she
declared.
“Give him a night’s rest,” said Cody, “and he’ll carry us both back to
your father’s village.”
“The Long Hair was going there to redeem his pledge to me when I
chanced to spy him?” queried White Antelope.
“I certainly was snooping about, looking for a chance to get through
Bennett’s line of guards.”
“But you had been killing and scalping Oak Heart’s braves?”
“Not a one. I was there waiting for a chance to keep my promise to
you,” said Buffalo Bill emphatically. “This renegade white was the
fellow who was quietly knocking your young men in the head and scalping
them. He was as bloodthirsty a wretch as ever went unhung. He’s dead
now, thanks be!”
“Then Oak Heart will receive you with more friendliness,” said the girl.
“I dunno how friendly he’ll feel,” muttered Cody. “But I’ll take you
back safe in the morning.”
They hastened to build a rousing camp-fire, and as soon as his
undergarments were dry the scout put on his outer clothing and
accouterments. Then with his rifle he stole away to a place where he
had noted the marks of many creatures that had come down to drink, and
there, just as the moon rose, found a doe with her fawn and shot the
youngster. So they had a much needed late supper of roast kid. After
which Cody insisted that the girl sleep.
As for himself, he sat up the livelong night, or paced the river-bank
to keep awake. Just before daybreak he awoke the girl, and while she
cooked breakfast he obtained an hour’s repose.
As they started from the river’s brink to ride ’cross country toward
the range in which Oak Heart’s camp was situated, White Antelope said:
“My father’s braves will be out searching for me, mayhap. If they see
White Antelope in the charge of a white man, they may try to shoot him.
They may believe you were he who stole me away.”
“I’d been thinking of that,” said Cody reflectively. “I don’t want to
get popped over for the wrong man, that’s sure. I reckon I’ll have to
change my appearance a little.”
“How will the white chief do that?” she demanded, over his shoulder.
She was riding behind him on the saddle.
“We’ll see when we come to that cave I’ve been staying in. I reckon
I’ve got something there that may help me out. And I believe we shall
be able to reach it without being molested.”
Chief bore them tirelessly all that day and far into the night. When
they halted and built their fire they were within a few hours’ ride of
the cave in the mountain from which Cody had overlooked Oak Heart’s
camp. Seventy-two hours before he had left it to chase Boyd Bennett
and rescue the Indian maiden. Much had happened since then both to the
scout and in the Indian encampment.