THE RESCUER REACHES THE GOAL.
One afternoon, a week after Lucille’s coming to the Indian village
as a captive, and while Lucille and the chief, Death Face, who had
proved to be half white, were seated upon the little piazza looking
at the sunset, the young man on the chair, the maiden in the hammock,
there suddenly dashed around the corner of the cabin a tall form,
brandishing a revolver in each hand. He had his revolver leveled full
at the young man, as he called out sternly:
“Up with your hands, renegade, or you die!”
“Buffalo Bill!” cried Lucille, in suppressed tones, as though
realizing, even in her surprise, the danger of speaking that name
there. Then she quickly added:
“For God’s sake do not kill him, for he is my friend.”
Death Face sprang to his feet, yet made no move to draw a weapon, but
stood gazing defiantly into the face of the scout, who, at the words
of Lucille, lowered his weapons and said quickly:
“Let me step into the cabin, for I may be seen here.”
Quickly Lucille seized his hand and fairly dragged him into the
cabin, while she said reproachfully:
“Oh, why did you come here, for your life will be the forfeit?”
“I came for you, Miss Lucille, but I did not expect to find you in a
white man’s cabin, free and with company.”
“I will explain all later, but now you must go into hiding, for if
you were discovered----”
“Not a redskin has seen me, I assure you. I have been four days
coming from the river to this cabin, which I saw from the ridge
above, as I did you also, and this young man, who I thought must be
some renegade.
“I crept up behind the cabin, having seen you seated on the piazza,
and, dashing around, covered him; but you say he is your friend.”
“You are safe here, Buffalo Bill, for I cannot but call you so, and
you shall know the whole story. So sit down, for it is a long one,
and there are secrets in it which you must not breathe to any one.”
“You have my pledge not to betray anything, Miss Lucille,” said
Buffalo Bill, and then he heard the story of her father’s strange
life, her uncle’s, and her own.
The scout listened with an interest that was intense, and when he had
heard all, said in a low tone:
“And I have a story to tell, too, Miss Lucille, and it is that you
need no longer dread your wicked uncle, the outlaw. I crossed the
river at the spot where you did, and that night camped not far away.
The next morning the outlaw rode full upon me: we saw each other
at the same time, but I was a little the quickest, and my bullet
pierced his brain. I had crossed the river upon a small raft the
soldiers had made for me, and so I staked his horse out, when I was
sure that he was alone, and, putting the body on the raft, poled back
to the other shore. There I found that your father, who was to have
crossed at the ford, and go with me to rescue you, had returned,
having been fired on by the Indian sentinel and slightly wounded.”
“You mean it--slightly wounded?” cried Lucille.
“I tell the truth, for Surgeon Denmead was in camp and extracted the
bullet. I had a talk with your father and he was doing well, but did
not wish me to risk coming. How glad I now am that I did, for I have
found you, though I have not rescued you.”
“And my outlaw uncle?”
“Lieutenant Worth had his soldiers bury him, for the lieutenant is
waiting on the river for your return. Just as I was leaving another
force came up which had taken your trail from Monument Hill and
followed it to the river, so both are there.
“I recrossed the river then on the raft, waited until night, and,
mounting the horse of the outlaw, made a flank movement to reach
the camp, determined to play Captain Eagle, if I met a redskin, for
we were not unlike in size and face, and I speak the Indian tongue
fairly well, while the horse and the coat and hat I appropriated
would help me out, I knew.
“I did not care to risk it by day, so flew by night only, reached the
ridge, reconnoitered, and here I am, Miss Lucille; and my advice is
that we get out of this at once.”
Lucille turned to Death Face, who said:
“Yes, we will go. I will bring ponies, too, and we will go up the
ridge trail, where Buffalo Bill’s horse is, and then, together, we
will go down to the river. If we meet any bands, Death Face, the
chief, passes unquestioned.”
So it was decided, and, while the young man went to make his
arrangements for leaving the Indian camp forever, Lucille and Yellow
Bird prepared for their escape, Buffalo Bill keeping in hiding.
Under the guidance of the young chief, the trail to the river was
made in perfect safety, Buffalo Bill being taken for the outlaw,
and Lucille and Yellow Bird for braves by the bands of Indians they
passed.
No one questioned Death Face, and on he rode with his escaping party,
Lucille and Yellow Bird having their faces painted, and in their
leggings, riding in masculine fashion, while the pack horses they had
along were well loaded with things taken from the Manly cabin and the
young chief’s tepee.
Reaching the river before dawn, the Indians left them, and Lucille
added to her costume her riding habit and felt better able to face
the soldiers on the other side.
They crossed on the raft, which made several trips, the horses
swimming over; then, mounting, they rode on to the soldiers’ camp.
Such a welcome as greeted them, when Buffalo Bill and the sergeant’s
daughter were recognized, cannot be described, for the soldiers
seemed to have gone wild.
In the week that had passed since he was wounded the sergeant had
much improved.
The meeting between father and daughter was most affecting, while
tears came into the brave man’s eyes as he grasped Buffalo Bill’s
hand and said:
“I owe all this to you, Cody, and Lucille tells me she has told you
all.”
Fearful of risking his daughter so near the redskins, the sergeant
said he was able to travel. The march was, therefore, begun after
the noon meal, the trail taken being the same one that Lucille had
traveled with the outlaw.
The command was three days getting back to the fort, but when they
came in sight, and it was seen that Lucille had been rescued, again
there was a wild scene of rejoicing.
Then, too, the sergeant had more joy added to his cup of bliss, for
the last coach through had brought him his commission, “for special
and gallant services,” as a first lieutenant in the army of the
United States.