TO THE RESCUE.
Feeling that he was on a trail of rescue, Black Bill rallied so fast
that he began to scout on ahead, and one day as Buffalo Bill came
near to where the negro lay full length upon the ground, he had
reached the summit of a range and was gazing over at something he had
discovered on the other side.
Creeping up to the side of the negro, Buffalo Bill peered over
cautiously, and he, too, lay low, and motioned to the coming scouts
to come quietly and see the discovery that Black Bill had made.
“Massa Bill, jist look a-yonder, sah, and see what I found,” said the
negro.
“You can have them, Black Bill, for I don’t want them,” answered
Buffalo Bill, as he looked in the direction the negro pointed.
The discovery was an Indian village. There it was in the valley, a
hundred tepees, at least, and with a large herd of ponies feeding
near. It did not look like a permanent village, and the experienced
eye of Buffalo Bill now told him that it was not. It was an Indian
village upon the march, and apparently halting there in the valley
for rest and game for a few days.
One by one, the black scouts came up and dropped down at full length
by the side of their chief to peer over the range.
They had expected some important discovery, but they saw more than
they cared to see.
Not a word was spoken other than a low ejaculation of surprise or a
whistle at the startling discovery.
Every eye was upon Cody, every ear waiting to catch his words. But
he had taken his field glass from its case and was already surveying
the river, the valley, the Indian village through it. What he was
thinking his face did not reveal.
“Ain’t yer goin’ ter skeer ’em, Massa Buf’ler Bill?” asked the guide.
“You mean by playing ghosts, Bill?”
“Yes, sah.”
“There’s safety in numbers, and I don’t think they would scare so
much as we would wish them to.”
“Jist try it, sah.”
“We will try it when a plan I have fails, when we have to do so.”
“Yes, sah.”
“Night is not very far off, none of the Indians will be coming up
here at this hour, and we can follow down the range until we get
opposite to where their ponies are.
“From there we can see where the guards are, and how many if, indeed,
they have any watching their ponies.
“Then as soon as it is dark we can go down into the valley, mount
some of the best ponies and stampede the whole herd.”
The scouts all gave a chuckle of delight.
“We can dash away with them, and keep pushing them along.
“Of course, as you know, some of the braves will have ponies near
their tepees, and will follow, but they won’t see us, and, if there
are many of them, we can push on ahead of the herd, if the pace
becomes too hot.
“In this way we can get by these redskins without being seen.
“The Indians will not know what stampeded their ponies, and we will
leave them to find out the best way they can.”
This plan of Buffalo Bill met with the approval of each man, though
Black Bill seemed to regret not being able to get a chance to “skeer
dem red Injuns silly,” as he expressed it.
Down the range, out of sight of the Indian camp, went the scouts,
until Buffalo Bill halted at a spot just above where the herd of
ponies were feeding.
Finding a hiding place, the chief swept the valley with his glass,
and soon discovered that there were only a couple of youths in charge
of the herd, and they were seated upon their ponies in the shadow of
the trees along the river bank.
“There are boys in charge, pards, but soon after night braves will
come to relieve them, we may be sure, so we will be ready to move the
moment the shadows deepen in the valley.
“Three of you go to the farther end of the herd and mount, and we
will go to the end near the village, so when you start they’ll follow
under our driving.
“You take the lead, corporal, and keep the ponies going at full speed
when they get started.”
The men understood the plan, and in half an hour it was dark.
Of course, supper was not to be thought of then, and, while Corporal
Milk led the way to the lower end of the herd, Buffalo Bill and those
with him rounded up the ponies feeding nearest to the Indian village.
Good ponies were caught without trouble, the scouts mounted, and,
with their lariats for bridles, began to urge the herd forward.
The men lay low on the backs of the ponies, so as not to be seen,
and, as the corporal and those with him dashed off on the leaders,
the other scouts pushing the herd upon them, the two startled Indian
boys could just get out of the way as the stampeded animals went
flying down the valley.
What stampeded them those two boys could not tell, but their shrill
cries gave the alarm, as well as did the thunder of hundreds of hoofs.
There were braves in the village who had ponies near their tepees,
and as soon as they could they dashed off in pursuit.
But the stampeded ponies had over a mile the start before the
warriors could get away, and that meant a long, hard chase unless the
ponies stopped of their own free will.
There were not over a score of braves who had ponies near by, and, as
they came upon the two boys, the latter had a strange story to tell,
of the whole herd raising their heads as one animal, uttering wild
snorts, and going off as though possessed of evil spirits.
On down the valley swept the herd, and, as mile after mile was gone
over, the slow ponies and used-up ones began to lag behind.
But Corporal Milk and his men led the way, and Buffalo Bill and those
with him kept the pace a hot one, forcing the ponies that could run
and endure the strain close on the heels of the leaders.
Behind them they knew the warriors were coming with all the speed
they could to try and head off the herd.
But a stern chase is a long one always, especially when the leaders
have a start of over a mile, and several hours thus passed before at
last the shadowy outlines of the pursuers could be seen.
“We must push to the lead now, pards, at all hazards.
“We have to desert our ponies, and, fortunately, we have the timber
along the river to hide us,” said Buffalo Bill.
The ponies they rode then were pushed the harder, and they began to
pass animal after animal. The center of the herd was reached, then
they forged nearer and nearer to the front, the ponies they passed
halting as they went by them, and thus checking the more rapid
pursuit of the braves in chase.
At last Buffalo Bill saw Corporal Milk’s tall form ahead, and the
next moment the scouts were all bunched together.
“Off to the right, here. All lie low on your own horses now, and no
one speak aloud, for there are a score of braves pursuing,” said
Buffalo Bill.
The word was passed in a low tone from one to the other, the scouts
wheeled to the right, the shadow of the timber along the river was
reached, and each man slipped from the back of the animal he rode,
pulled off the lariat bridle from his pony, and bounded into the
shelter of the trees.
Lashed with the lariats to urge them on, the group of ponies just
deserted, though fagged out, ran on down the valley, and suddenly in
chase swept half a dozen braves.
“They had gained well on us, but they’ll soon head those ponies off
and return up the valley,” said Buffalo Bill.
“It was a successful stampede,” remarked the corporal.
“Yes; now to push along for a few miles, as soon as those braves go
back.”
This the braves were not long in doing, going back at a canter and
driving the ponies so recently deserted by riders before them, yet
with no thought of the reason of the wild stampede.