UNSEEN FOES.
When Buffalo Bill and the guide left the camp together, the chief
went down the valley leading from the Big Horn Mountains, where the
camp had been located, hoping to pass some scene that the negro would
recall at sight.
Could he do this, Buffalo Bill felt little doubt but that they could
in that way find the Lost Valley, for the scout had perfect faith
that the negro was sincere in all that he had said, and that it was
not the creation of mind diseased.
Brave as he was, good plainsman, also, it would be readily understood
by Buffalo Bill how the negro failed to find a given locality when he
had been guided thither by some one else, and had simply left there
to endeavor to find his way to a place where he could get word of
him, the chief of scouts, who was to be secretly urged to come to the
rescue of people in distress.
Why some one else--the guide of the party, for instance--had not been
sent on this mission Buffalo Bill had been unable to find out from
Black Bill.
Starting out alone with Black Bill, and having arrived, as it were,
almost upon the scene to which the negro had wished to bring him,
Buffalo Bill thought that, perhaps, he would tell him more than he
thus far had done, and to encourage him to do so he had said:
“Well, you think we are near the Lost Valley?”
“Sure, sah; very sartin.”
“What do you tell by?”
“Well, sah, dere is trees, and mountains, and valleys dat looks
familiarlike, though I can’t jist place ’em; but I is sartin I has
seen ’em before.”
“Did you ever go far from the valley?”
“Not very, sah; but I hunted ’round, maybe ten and a dozen miles
away.”
“Suppose you find some spot that you recall thoroughly, will you go
right to the valley?”
“Well, Massa Bill, I’ll go as near as I kin, and then let you decide
what is ter be done.”
“All right; keep your eyes open, and see if you can find any place
you remember to have seen before.”
“Yes, sah; I’m a-lookin’ hard, sah.”
They went on together for some miles, and the valley they were
following opened into a larger one.
As they came out into the larger valley, the guide halted suddenly,
rubbed his eyes, looked about him, and said earnestly:
“Massa Buf’ler Bill, I knows whar I is.”
“What do you recognize about this valley?”
“If I is right, sah, you see dem cliffs ’way yonder?”
“Yes.”
“Dem is over de cañon where dey used ter git gold.”
The negro started off in a way that told the scout that he was in
earnest, that he had certainly got his bearings from some familiar
scene before him. He kept up a rapid pace, Buffalo Bill keeping close
by his side.
The cliffs loomed up nearer and nearer, and at last the scout and the
negro were almost under their shadow.
“You see dat break yonder in de cliffs?”
“Yes.”
“It is a cañon, sah. It runs back from where you see de open place,
and dere big springs yonder dat flow down the cañon, and dere whar
dey found de gold.”
The negro went forward alone, and began to climb up the steep rocks
to the break in the cliff. Watching him, Buffalo Bill saw him peep
cautiously over, as though he expected to see an enemy beyond.
A moment he remained thus, and then came a distant report of a rifle
that echoed and reëchoed among the cliffs, and Buffalo Bill saw the
negro sink down upon his face as though dead.
Buffalo Bill was fairly startled at what he beheld. He had not
thought of danger there to himself or to the negro. The shot had come
so unexpectedly that, for a moment, he did not know where to look for
an enemy.
It appeared to have ended the life of the guide, for he had fallen
in a heap and lay motionless, like a dead man.
But the scout was not one to hesitate long when action was needed,
or to allow a crime to go unpunished when he could bring the
perpetrators to book.
Thoughts went like lightning through his mind. He thought of the
people of Lost Valley that the negro had risked so much to rescue.
Could they have killed their rescuer?
How far was the Lost Valley from where he then was?
Of course, it must be those from the valley who had fired on the
black giant. But who they were he must know, and where they were, as
well as why that murderous shot had been sent at a rescuer.
Bounding forward while these thoughts were raging through his brain,
the scout reached a large rock at the base of the cliff.
As he did so, a man sprang in view through the break of the cliff,
and within a few feet of the form of the negro. He was a large man,
heavily bearded, long-haired, and he held a rifle in his hand.
With a wave of his hand to some one unseen, he called out:
“Come, Tom; for I told you I was right. It’s ther giant nigger of the
valley.”
Buffalo Bill heard the voice answer afar off, but did not catch what
was said; yet he heard the reply of the man in full view of him, for
he replied to the other:
“Yes, dead as ther devil. I chipped him atween ther eyes. Come along.”
The scout remained behind the bowlder. He could afford to wait; for
he knew that another enemy was near, and would soon be in sight. The
one in sight had fired on the negro, knowing who he was, and being
anxious to kill him. He had spoken, too, of the valley; so he must
know where that was.
His words told Buffalo Bill that Black Bill was dead, and, in the
very moment of his success in bringing him to the rescue of people
who, if these two were a specimen of them, did not deserve rescue.
“I think I’ve got the best of this,” muttered Buffalo Bill, and,
slinging his rifle at his back, he drew a revolver in each hand.
“Ho, Rocks, yer got him,” Buffalo Bill heard, for he dared not look
toward the speaker for fear of being seen.
“It’s ther nigger, ain’t it?” asked the man who had fired the shot.
“Sure.”
“How’d he get out?”
“Who knows; fer I thought he’d given up tryin’ long ago.”
“He didn’t, though, if he’s here.”
“No, he didn’t; but there can’t be any more of ’em out.”
“You bet ther ain’t, and they won’t be no more; so we’ve got it our
way, sure.”
“We has, ef our two pards come back all right.”
“They’ll git here, fer gold will fetch ’em, you bet.”
“Then we’ll be rich for our nat’ral lives.”
“We will; and hev something ter leave after death.
“We played to win, and we got ther game; only I don’t like this
nigger gettin’ out.”
“Me nuther.”
“More might be gettin’ out now.”
“Not ef they’re comin’ ther way he did; fer thar ain’t many men kin
do it that I’m acquainted with.”
“Nor me; but I wish our two pards would git back with the horses, for
it’s after time some weeks, and provisions is running low.”
“Yes, and gold won’t buy food in this country.”
“No; all we has got won’t git us a meal if we was starving.”
“That’s so; but suppose we keep a eye on ther valley, for if we see
more of ’em gittin’ out, it means death ter us, if we don’t fust kill
them.”
“It does; but we’ll do ther killin’, as has just been done in this
case of ther nigger; but let’s drag him down inter ther soft ground,
go through his pockets, and see what he’s wuth to us outside of the
killin’, and then he kin be left for coyotes ter chaw on, fer it’s
too much like work ter plant him.”
With this, the two men took hold of the negro, and their oaths
revealed to Buffalo Bill that they were dragging him along down the
steep hillside, and found it no easy task.
Nearer and nearer they came, and the scout moved to the side of the
rock nearest to which they must pass.
A moment more and they came within ten feet of him, and would have
come full upon him, when suddenly they were confronted by a tall
form, and heard the words:
“Hands up, both of you!”