THE FIGHT IN THE SLEUTHS’ CAMP.
Several days passed away, and Buffalo Bill was absent from the camp,
for, acting under his orders, Texas Jack had encamped his men outside
of the hacienda and away from its immediate surroundings.
The chief of scouts was what the men called “playing a little game,”
in this, for it could give those who haunted the hacienda the idea
that the scout sleuths were afraid to stay there any longer.
The truth was that Buffalo Bill was on a still hunt of detective
work, and each one of his men was aiding him all in his power.
The scout had not been gone a day from the camp before visitors began
to drop in there, a thing that had never happened while they were at
the hacienda.
Just how it happened Texas Jack and his men did not know, or if they
did they kept it to themselves; but trouble came, and at night, when
the scouts were away from the camp.
Blue Jacket Bob and Rio Grande Dick were the two men left in camp,
and following the arrival of three strangers came a fatal fight.
To the surprise of Blue Jacket Bob, two of the cowboy visitors were
from the ranch of Señor Otega, and the other was from the hacienda
of the fair hermit, and known to belong to the band who served the
cowboy king, the Señorita Suelo’s chief of cowboys.
Perhaps they had expected to find only one guard at the cowboy camp
and rob it; but the two men they found there had proven more than a
match for them.
When Buffalo Bill returned to camp he found Texas Jack and the men,
save two, off on scouting duty; but of those two one was dead, Rio
Grande Dick, and Blue Jack Bob was wounded.
With Buffalo Bill came Señor Otega.
Doc Stevens had joined his chief back on the trail, fortunately as it
proved, and as the three rode into camp there stood Blue Jacket Bob
in the moonlight, and he called out:
“Doc, I have a wound in my arm for you to dress, and it needs it, for
I could not go to look you up, being all alone in camp.”
“Why, where is Rio Grande Dick?”
“I am sorry to say, sir, that he is dead.”
“Dead! How was it, Bob?”
But Buffalo Bill could see that Blue Jacket Bob was suffering, and he
insisted that he should not make a report until his wound had been
tended.
This was now done by Doc Stevens, who said:
“It is not dangerous, but he has lost considerable blood. Here is the
bullet--give him a drink, please.”
The bullet had been extracted from the shoulder, a drink of brandy
was given the wounded man, and as soon as he was made comfortable he
said:
“There lies poor Dick over there, chief.”
“How was it, Bob?”
“You see that man lying yonder?”
“Yes.”
“He was one of the cowboy king’s men.”
“Yes, I remember him, and next in authority to him,” said Señor Otega.
“I guess he was; there is his horse hitched where he left him. He
came to our camp with two men. One said to us that they had brought
a friend of theirs over who wanted to know us, and he had some fine
liquor and cigars, and wished us to join him. I said that we did not
drink, but would smoke with them, and asked them to be seated.
“We all sat down here, and were talking when he called out suddenly:
‘Now!’
“The three men, with that, at once drew their revolvers and turned
them on us.
“But, though we were taken by surprise, we are quick on the draw, and
our revolvers were going off with theirs, and for a second or so it
was lively here.
“We all sprang to cover of the timber, of course, and so we had it.
“I don’t think it lasted half a minute, and then I found I was the
only one standing up, and I was wounded.
“I walked over to where those three traitors lay, but they were dead.
I then went to poor Dick. He was gasping, but murmured something
about a plot to kill us. Then he grasped my hand, and the poor boy
was gone.”
As he spoke, Bob brushed tears from his eyes, and there were others
who felt the drops trickle down their bronzed cheeks as they thought
of their dead comrade.
The scouts had listened with rapt attention to Blue Jacket Bob’s
story, and Buffalo Bill said:
“Bob, you have done nobly, old fellow, and there is proof lying
before us of your plucky fight against odds. Now, señor, what is your
opinion of the treachery of your men to-night?”
“They came to rob this camp, señor, and failed, though they had one
of the fair hermit’s cattlemen as an ally.”
“What a pity that they all got killed, that we cannot entrap one
alive, or wound and capture one!”
“It is, indeed, a pity, Señor Cody. But you recall that I told you
the secret foes had spies on every ranch, or were suspected of
having?”
“Yes, Señor Otega.”
“Well, these two were the spies, doubtless, on my ranch.”
“I see.”
“And the other man was a comrade of theirs, and hence a spy on the
ranch of the fair hermit.”
“I guess you are right.”
“Now, what is to be done with these bodies, for poor Dick we will
take with us for burial at the ranch?”
“It would be best if you ride over with me and report the affair to
the alcalde.”
“Who is he?”
“The landlord, the Señor Riel.”
“All right,” and to Texas Jack, who just rode up:
“Jack, you and three others be within call if I need you, for I may
have to shoot the alcalde,” said Buffalo Bill, to the surprise of
Señor Otega, who cried:
“Oh, señor!”
“If ever there was a scamp, Señor Otega, that landlord is one, and I
shall stand no nonsense with him.”
“All right, sir, and you’ll find us within call,” said Jack.
With this, Buffalo Bill and the Señor Otega mounted their horses and
rode away from the camp. Texas Jack, Lone Star Sam, and Mustang Frank
following soon after.
The landlord was found in the Fandango Hall, at Silver Lake City, but
he was called into his office by Señor Otega, who said at once:
“Señor Alcalde, we have an unfortunate affair to report to you.”
“The Señor Cody I suppose has killed some one?”
The look the man got from the scout made him wince, but the words
were calmly uttered:
“You must not jump at conclusions, sir, or I might be tempted to
punish impertinence. I am here to report to you that two of our men
were left to guard camp, while the rest were away. We returned to
find that one of our men had been killed, the other wounded, and the
three men who had gone there to rob the camp were lying dead, having
been shot by our comrade, Blue Jacket Bob.”
“This is bad, very bad.”
“The three men were those whom we had reason to believe friends, for
two were Señor Otega’s cowboys, and the other was a cattleman of the
band of the cowboy king, and he it was who arranged the robbery,
which ended in the loss of their lives.”
“This is bad, very bad. I must demand the man who did this killing,
and while the Señor Otega goes to fetch him I will hold you as
hostage, Señor Cody.”
“You shall neither take Blue Jacket Bob, nor will you keep me here. I
have reported the facts, and it is a pretty state of affairs when we
cannot protect our camp and our lives. If you wish a trial, name the
day and we will be here.”
“And I will guarantee on bond, Señor Alcalde, for the appearance of
the accused man,” said Señor Otega.
“I must have a guarantee from them also.”
Buffalo Bill laughed and replied:
“You doubt my word, and I have reason to doubt you, and, in fact, do.
No, I’ll pledge my word, and remember, the Señor Otega here shall
give no bond for us, and we will be here on the day you set for
trial.”
“I wish a guarantee.”
“See here, Landlord Riel, you shall have one. With your own people
you would consider this justifiable killing of three robbers and
murderers. We are here in this valley as are others, and you shall
not make us an exception.”
“But I must punish murder,” said the landlord, all in a tremor.
“There was no murder, save the killing of my poor comrade by those
men who were murderers and robbers. Blue Jacket Bob acted in
self-defense, and I’ll tell you to your face, if you dare to attempt
to hold me a prisoner, or arrest my comrade, I’ll make known to these
people the confession of one of those three men, and a dying man does
not lie.
“I alone know that confession, Landlord Alcalde, or whatever you
choose to call yourself, and I will make it known, and leave it for
you to prove that dying lips lied.
“Do you grasp my meaning as I intend you shall, Señor Riel?”
Señor Otega stood amazed at the bold words of Buffalo Bill. He knew
perfectly well that there had been no dying confession; he was
surprised and startled at the daring shown by the scout, and flinging
into the face of a man whom every one in the valley feared, a charge
of guilt, as it were. He glared at the alcalde, expecting a terrible
outbreak.
Instead, he saw that his face was livid, that his lips were drawn
back from his white teeth like a snarling dog, and that they were
clicking together with a nervous chill.
“Señor Otega retire a moment, please, for I wish to ask our friend
here of this man’s confession.”
The voice of the alcalde was hardly audible.
A glance at Buffalo Bill, and the Señor Otega saw a sign for him to
go.
“I will soon join you, señor, as the alcalde will not detain me
long,” said the scout pleasantly.
When the door closed behind Otega, the alcalde said in a low tone:
“Who made this confession you speak of?”
“I do not know the name of the man of the cowboy king’s band,” was
the evasive reply.
“Ah! it was he?”
“Shall I tell you that the confession appeared like that of a man who
sought to destroy you, alcalde; but where there is smoke you will
always find fire, and were I to speak there are plenty to listen,
though I myself might not believe that you can be guilty.
“Suppose we square this matter by your giving me a discharge for my
comrade; in other words, that he acted in self-defense, and you bury
the three bodies at your expense.”
“Yes, yes, señor, that will do, for I have no desire to prosecute
you or your comrades. You are strangers in our valley, and I will
give you the paper asked, and in return your lips are sealed about
the confession of that dying man. As you said, it was the malignant
confession on the eve of death, to ruin me, for we had had some
trouble several times, and there is not a word of truth in it.”
“I did not tell you what he had said.”
“No, no.” The alcalde looked most anxious.
“Just write out the paper for my pard, please--his name is Robert
Mead, nicknamed Blue Jacket Bob.”
“I see.” The alcalde hastily filled in a discharge and handed it to
the scout, saying as he did so: “Now, there is no charge, you know.”
“Thanks, señor.”
“Now, what did that wicked man have to say about me?”
“Well, I heard enough to know you were in some way allied to these
secret foes of the valley, and kept by fear of death of making known
all that you are aware of.”
“Nonsense, señor, utter nonsense! Still, it is best not to let it be
known that I had such a charge against me, and you are not to speak
of it, you know.”
“Not one word I ever heard from that dying man against you, señor,
shall ever pass my lips, at least as long as you don’t forget.”
“Then that will be all right. I will call in the Señor Otega, and you
are to have a glass of wine with me.”
“Thanks, but I do not often drink; the Señor Otega never does, and
you must excuse us. But you will send over after the bodies, for we
shall leave camp to-night.”
“Yes, I will return with you, with two of my men, and take them in
charge.”
Señor Otega was again surprised when the alcalde and the scout came
out together, and as Texas Jack saw them approaching he and his
comrades hastened back to camp.
The alcalde had two men and a wagon to follow him, and the bodies of
the three robbers were taken back into the settlement, where there
was already plenty more work for the landlord in his magisterial
capacity, there having been a riot in the Fandango Hall, and half a
score of men lay around dead, while many more were wounded.
“Those three dead from our camp will fit in with the ones slain at
the fandango,” said Señor Otega, as he rode with Buffalo Bill as they
started on their homeward trail just before dawn.
“Oh, yes, the alcalde will fix things up all right, and I have Blue
Jacket Bob’s acquittal paper here,” replied Buffalo Bill.
“And, señor, how did you manage it?”
“Easy enough.”
“Well, you played the boldest game I ever saw, and you are the first
one who ever frightened Alcalde Riel, I assure you. Why, not one of
those men made a confession.”
“No, but if he thought they did, and he was guilty, it was just as
well as though they had.”
“Yes, just as well.” Señor Otega was lost in admiration at the bold
deed of Buffalo Bill in bringing the alcalde to terms.
Back to his ranch went Señor Otega, while Buffalo Bill and his
men returned on the trail that would take them by the way of the
temporary camp where poor Rio Grande Dick had lost his life.
The chief of scouts found that his orders to get ready to return to
the haunted hacienda had been carried out, and all were in readiness
for the move.
Rio Grande Dick had been given decent burial, and the men felt that
their chief had been doing some splendid secret-service work during
his short absence from them.
“Pards, I have found out enough to convince the most skeptical of
you, that is the most ardent believer in ghosts, that every spook
we will have to deal with can be brought down with a bullet,” said
Buffalo Bill.
“I have gleaned certain information that fastens the crimes in this
valley upon a man, yes, men whom no one suspects; but what we do now
will bring the guilty to the end of their rope.
“Though you did not know it, there was one of our band left alone and
in hiding in the haunted hacienda, and what he discovered proved that
we are on the right track.”
Though Buffalo Bill did not even hint as much, the men were sure that
their chief had been that lone watcher in the ruins of the fatal
ranch.
Continuing in his easy way, Buffalo Bill said:
“Now, men, we return to that old spook nest next, and we stay there
until we lay the ghosts, mark my words.
“All I ask is for each man to give me his full support, and we’ll
soon strike the end of our trail.”
The answer was a cheer, and the march was taken up for the fatal
ranch.
If there was one of the scouts who longer felt dread of the ruin,
that is, a superstitious dread, he did not show it.
The place was again occupied, and after a talk with the men, before
they reached the hacienda, it was agreed by one and all that not a
word should be uttered there that would in any way give their plans
away.
That night a move would be made by Buffalo Bill which should lay the
foundation for the laying of the spooks, and all were on the eager
watch for what was to come.