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V0].-  a$%'§at. u 15 :10. QSevngzumyS'L. NEW YORK. ’ “Ni-009%“ No' 

 

 

 

 

 

LITTLE GRAY, SEEING TEE DANGER or £115 yomw MASTER, RUSHY'D UP WITH SAVAGE FURY AND sEIzKQ
TEE SHOULDER OF THE MAN IN HIS SHARP Tn‘ETH DRAGG NU- }.fll! BAGKWAIIDg

 

 

 

Buflhlo Billy, the

Boy Bullwhacker.

 

Buffalo Billy.

THE BOY BULLWHACKER;

on,
THE DOOMED THIRTEEN.

A Strange Story of the Silver Trail.
BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM,
AUTHOR or “MERLE THE MUTINEEB,” “BUF-
FALO BILL’s BET,” “WIZARD WILL,”
ETC., am, are.

 

CHAPTER I.
FOR LIFE on DEATH.

“OH hokey! I’m gone up, for there’s Injuns
behind the buffaloes I”

The speaker was a youth of fifteen, tall of his
ag 3, wiry, and possessing a face that was frank,
feaaless, and handsome enough for an artist’s
Stu .

Drissed in buckskin, even to the moccasins,
handsomely beaded, that incased his small feet,
he wore upon his head a dovecolored slouch hat
with broad brim, turned up on the left side and
fastened with a old pin representing a minia-
ture bullwhacker s whip.

At his back slung a Colt’s repeating rifle, with
carved stock, and silver«mounted, as were also
his long bowie-knife and a pair of revolvers in
his belt. »

When he uttered the words that open this
story, he was standing upon the stout limb of a
solitary tree, that stood like a sentinel in the
middle of a vast prairie.

With one hand he clun to a branch for sup-
port. and with the other e shaded his eyes and
glanced out over the plain, while a certain look
of anxiety rested upon his fine face.

And, as he looked, his cheeks flushed with
excitement, his large, black eyes full of fire
and determination, and his long, dark—brown
hair floating back behind him, fanned by the
stiff breeze that was blowing, there came to
his earsa sound like the low rumble of distant
thunder.

Louder and louder it grew, and nearer and
nearer came the cause—an immense herd of buf—
faloes flying like the wind over the prairie.

It wasthe thundering sound of their thousands
of boots that had at first warned him of danger,
as he was trudging on foot along the weary
prairie trail, and at once his eye had fallen upon
the solitary tree, standing grim, yet inviting in
the midst of the plain.

“ I guess ’twas made to order, for just such an
occasion,” he said, gayly, as he took refuge amid
its branches. feeling no concern in such a haven;
but one glance over the waste. and he had dis-
covered that the herd of buffaloes. flying at top
speed, numbered thousands, and that behind
them, only a short distance away, and in full,
chase came a band of Indians, fully a hundred
1n number.

“Whewl” and the boy gave a long whistle,
and utteer the, words that head this chapter.

 

    

“I wish, now I’ve climbed this tree, that I
could pull it up after me,” he said lugubriousaly,
at the same time looking with instinctive caution
at his arms. “If my 001‘ mother and sisters
could only see me now, l) guess they’d wave me
a long farewell, for if some old iron-headed buf-
falo bull don’t knock this tree u by the roots
the Injuns will fill me mm of oles. Ughl i
kinder feel as though arrows were sticking in
me now; but ”-—and his eyes flashed. as he
spoke:——“ I’ve got six shots in my rifle for long
range, and twelve in my revolvers for close
quarters, and if Billy Cody goes under, he leaves
wailing in the red—skin cam .”

On came the buffaloes, and behind them the
savage Sioux, and all were heading directly for
the lone tree and its daring but youthful occu-

ant.
p “By the Rockies! I’ve ot a thought,” he
suddenly exclaimed. “The ufl‘alocs are head—
ing directly for our camp and I’ll try it, and if
I go in all right I guess ’ll astonish Wild Bill
and the boys. lf 1 don’t, why, they’ll astonlsh
the red-skins. '

“If I stay here the reds will kill me, that’s
certain, and the chances are against me the
other way; so it’s ‘nip and tuck’ either way,
but I guess I'll take ‘ tuck.’ ”

As if having made up his mind to some des-
perate purpose. he drew his belt more tightly
around his waist, made his rifle more secure.
pulled his hat down hard on his head, and sat
down on the limb upon which he had been
standing.

His face was now pale, yet still fearless and
determined, and his lips were set firm] , like
one who knew he had to grapple with $eath,
and the chances wholly in favor of his antago-
nist. '

Not a hundred yards away came the huge
herd of flying buffalo, the earth fairly shaking
beneath their thundering hoofs.

Behind them, only a few hundred feet, came ~"

the mounted warriors urging their ponies hard
to overtake the game they had started.

'With his keen eyes the boys swept the herd
over, and his glance fell upon one huge buffalo
bull that was heading directly for the tree.

“ That’s my racer, and I’m thinking he
won’t need spurs.‘ Now, Billy Cody. if you
don’t mount right there’ll be mourning in your
Kansas home. and you won’t need burying,
for those buffaloes will trample you into dust;
but, come What may, here goes!” .

As he spoke he swung himself down under
the limb, holding by his hands, and. just as the
huge buffalo bull dashed beneath him, he let go
his hold and dropped astride of his “racer,” as
he had called the animal.

A wild. startled bellow, a snort, a bound in
the air, and the bull led the herd; but Billy
Cody had not been unseatcd, and in the exuber-
ance of his boyish spirits he gave aloud, ring-
ing war-whoop, which was heard by the In‘
dians and savagely answered, for at a glance
1tjiey saw the desperate deed was done to escape

7e . V-

A few hundred yards of flight and the boy
r011; perfectly at home on the back of his hairy
stood for he was a superb rider, and said,
grimly:

 
     

 

 

 

  

sumo Billy, the

 

Boy Bullwhackur.

a»

 

“ I gnaw I can try my luck on a redvskin
now.”

As he spoke he unslung his rifle, and, with re-
markable agility sprun to his feet, and balanc-
ing himself turned ha 1 round, and fired, and
down from his pony to the ground dropped the
leading warrior, while a shower of arrows flew
over the head of the daring boy.

But, delighted at his success, and his frightened
buffalo leading the herd, he seemedto feel no
fear, and again and again his rifle flashed, and
off to the happy hunting-grounds sped the spirit
of a savage warrior with each rifle-crack.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE BOY BULLWHACKER.

“ WELL, boys, who comes here?”

The her was a man who will go down to
history as one of the greatest of border heroes,
for it was none other than Wild Bill, thou h why
called Bill, when his name was James B. ikok,
is one of those things, which in the mysteries of
, frontier nomenclature is past finding out.

3 A young man at that time, for I write of twenty

 

.5 or more years ago, Wild Bill was one of the
_ most powerful men on the plains, and was ad-
i mitted to be the “ best man ” physically in the

employ of Russell, Majors and Waddell, who
then ran the supply trains to all the important
Western posts.

The train of which Wild Bill was wagon-
master, had encamped for the night on the South
Platte, and was en route to Salt Lake with sup-

plies.
_But, while all were busy preparin for the
night encampment. the keen eye of ild Bill

had discovered several horsemen a reaching,
\ who he knew at a glance did not be ong to his
train.
At his words, all who heard them looked up,
and soon after five horsemen rode into camp.
They were all of them fearless, hardy-looking
I fellows, with swarthy faces, long hair, and well
; mounted and armed.

“Who is the boss of this bull outfit?” asked
one, glancing over the crowd of teamsters, and
bullwhackers who had gathered around.

” I am. pard; how can I serveyou?” answered
Wild Bill, stepping forward.

“We are in bad luck, for one of our guides
was killed in a scrimmage with Indians, and the
other took sick and died, and we'll pay well for
a man to put us through.”

“ Which way going, ard?”

“ East: back to the tates, with a wagon-load
0’ silver dust,” was the honest reply.

“ Wouldn’t tell that to every crowd, pard;
g , but we profess to be honest in this bull train.”

, = “I know who you are, for our guide told us
a one 0' Russell, Majors and Weddells bull-trains
would be along soon. and that Wild Bill was
boss of it; are you Wild Bill ?"
“ That’s what men call me. How many in
your arty?”
“T irteen.”
(l I”
“What is it, paid?” asked the stra or as
Wild Bill said no more. ng '
‘f Oh! I’m a. little gone on superstition, and
r . thirteen is an unlucky number; but you want

  

 

 

1‘

 
 

\

 

 

 

a guide back to Kansas City, or Imvenworth,
you say?”

“ That’s it, exactly.”

“ One wagon, or more?”

“ Two, one with silver chest, t’other with
traps; we’ve been digging ore in Colorado and
struck it rich, and are going East to see the
old folks, and then come back and work out our
lead.

“We drive six mules to the team, are all well
mounted and thoroughly heeled with shooting-
irons, and you can’t scare up thirteen better
pards on the border than we are, if 1 say it my-
self.

“ You look square, and I guess I can aeoom-
modate on with a ide, if you are willing to
pay wel ,” said VVil Bill. _

‘ We’ll give him a cool hundred apiece to run
us into Leavenwort .”

“ Done! get down and take supper with us,
and I’ll loo the boy 11 .”

“kThe boy f” asked e miner, who had before
spo en.

“ Yes, the ho ; Billy Cody, and the boss bull-
whacker with t is train.”

“ But we don’t want a bullwhacker, for we

' drive mules.”

“Don‘t make any difference. Bill knows a
mule from his ears to his business end.”

“ How old is this Boy Bullwbacker?”

“ I’m not his father or mother, and can’t ex-
actly say; but I’m his friend unto death, and the
man who says he isn’t as good as any one in this
train. quarrels with me. He’s about fourteen,
though, to answer your uestion."

“ Oh, we want a man .”

“ Bosh l whg' won’tawoman do, if she’sas good
as a man? an Billy Cody is every time equal to
a man, whether it‘s on the trail, in a fight, bull-
whacking, or riding a mustang, and he can out-
shoot anybody in this outfit.”

“ But e’s a boy I”

“ And I tell you he‘s a boss boy. Where is
the youngster?" and Wild Bill glanced over the
crowd of bullwhackers and teamsters.

“ He’s of! on a hunt: dropped back this morn-
ing to bring in some game for sup 1-,” answerai
one of the men who bears? to he ’s mess.

An anxious look cov the face of ild Bill
and he said:

“ The b0 ’5 generally on time, and should be
here: but, ullo! here comes game, pards, and
right into camp.”

All eyes were turned across the prairie, and
over a rise came a surging flying mass of bufla~
lees, heading almost directly for the cam

“ Turn ’em! turn ’em, boys, or they’l stam-

e the train!" yelled Wild Bill, and throwing
'mself upon the back of his own horse that'was
feeding near, he dashed off to turn the herd ac—
companied by the five miners, and followed by
twoscore of the train-men. .

Shots and yells at the heads of the flying
mass turned the herd ade, so that they won]
not dash through the cam , and then all‘eyee
became fixed upon one o Ject, or rather two,
for mounted u a. huge hull was a human
form, riding in splendid style, though the ani-
mal he bestrode was dropping slowly back he-
hind the herd, sorely fatlgued by the run and
the weight he bore.

 

‘ Buflalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker.

 

And behind this novel sight was now visible

. a band of Indians, urging their horses on at

top speed, and, at the same time, sending ar-
rows after the straining buffalo, and his daring
rider, who ever and anon faced half round
aihd returned the compliment by a shot from his
n e.
A wild yell from the buffalo-rider, told that
he saw his friends and help ahead, and it warned
the red-skins of danger to them, for with savage
whoo of hatred and disappointment they
turn quickly to the right-about, just as Wild
Bill shouted:

“Pards, there comes mv boy! Three cheers
for Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhackerl”

‘ And with a yell the three cheers were given
while Wild Bill, urging his horse forward to-
ward the still frightened and nobly struggling
buffalo bull, cried out:

“ Look out, Billy, for you are going by camp,
and I’m going to drop him."

“ All right, let him have it,” came the an-
swer, and Wild Bill reined his horse suddenly
back, raised his rifle, and seemingly without
aim, fired.

The buffalo gave a mighty bound, as though
hard hit. swayed Wildly, and after a short run
fell dead in his tracks, while Buffalo Billy, as
he had just been christened, niinbly caught on

_ his feet, and waving his hat around his head,

gave vent to one loud long shout of joy at his
escape.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE BOY BULLWHACKER TURNS GUIDE.

As the buffalo herd swept away, Buffalo
Billy, as I will now call him, shook himself to-
gather, and said laconically:

“No crape on the door of the home in Kan-
sas just yet; but I’m awfully shaken u . for
that old bull ain’t a pacer, and his bac bone
was so sharp I mess I won’t sit down in com-
fort for a Wee . Well, Bill, I’m back,” and
he walked to meet Wild Bill, who was up-
proaching him, followed by half the men of the

rain.

“80 I see, Billy; but in the name 0’ thun-
der! how’d you get our mount ?"

“0h! easy enoug .” was the quiet response,
while a merry twinkle was in the boy’s eye.

“But how did you get on him, Billy?”

“Just dropped on him; but it was how to
get 011! that troubled me; but thanks to you

ere I am safe and sound, after a ten-mile ride
over the prairie.

“I tell you, Bill, it would have been prime
iiport, if the reds hadn’t been in full chase, and

e an arrow would bring.r down my
8 , or knock me off, for the old bull, from
leading the herd, got to dropping back in the
rear. and that wasn’tpleasant.”

“Billy! Billy, why don’t you tell us how
you got on that buffalo!” demanded Wild Bill
impatiently.

‘ I’m trying to, but how can I talk when
you’re all grinning at me as though I’d done
something funny. Why, Bill, I could shave

our mustache of! with that old bull’s bur-k—

ne,and—-” i

Shouts of laughter made inaudible what morn,
the boy would ve said, and he joined in the

 

merriment, and then told the story of his strange
adventure, after which Wild Bill turned to t e
miners and said, roudly:

“ Now, didn’t tell he was a boss boy '

“Oh, he’ll do; we’ll take him, if e’ll go,”
was the unanimous reply of the strangers.

“I. should think sol A boy who can ride a
buffalo and shoot Injuns at the some time,
ought to be able to run a train across the
country,” declared Wild Bill. and turning to
his young friend, he continued:

“Billy, I has promised youtothese gentlemen,
who want a guide.”

“ Must I leave you, Bill?” asked the boy.

“Obi you don’t always want to be tied to
your granny’s apron—strings, do you?”

“No, or I would not have left my home in
Kansas; but I don’t like to leave you, Bill, as
you have been so kind to me.”

“Nonsense! I wouldn‘t see none of the ho s
bully you, when you first took to bullwhuc -
ing, Billy; but now you have a chance to make
a name for yourself, and to carry home to your
mother a good thirteen hundred dollars, and
She‘ hidiifi “Sy‘fi‘h‘i‘mlv'L m hl

‘ i go, ' i o y e m r
mother. What am todo?” p y poo

“Run these gentlemen and their pards into
Leavenworth, and when I tell you they have
one firairie schooner loaded with silver dust you
will now how particular you must be, for you
ain’t oin on a frolic. Billy.”

“ Ni, Iiuow all the dangers in our Way, but
I’ll face them, and we’ll go through if these
gentlemen have got the right grit,’ boldly rc-
sponded Buffalo illy.

“Bravo for you, my boy! I like your style,
and ou’ll find us grit, clean through,” respond-
ed ank Hayes, the “captain” of the miners‘
train.

“Well, it’s a bargain. Come to camp and
have supper with us, and then on can start
for your lay-out, pards; but, illy, where’s
your pony?" v _

“ I got down to shoot an elk an’ be skipped for
the train; I gum he’s here by this time."

“ Yas, he comed in a while ago, and looks as
though he’d lied a long run," announced a
teamster.

“Never mind him; I’ll lend you an extra
horse I have. and you’ll find him a gocr; but
he’s such adevil none of us care to ride him,
but you won‘t mind him, after what I saw you
do on a buffalo,” remarked Captain Hunk
Hayes. .

“If the horse is a good one, sell him to me,”
suggested Wild Bill.

“ I am willing. for as 1 tell you, he’s a dev11;
but he’s fast, and can run all day.”

“ Name yJur price.”

“ Two hiindrai.”

“ Done! Here’s your money. Now, Billy my
boy, the horse is yours as a present from me, for
you could ride a streak o‘ lightning once you
got your legs across it,” assured Wild Bill.

Bill made no reply, but stepping forward
grasped the hand of his friend, and this silent
act spoke more of his thanks than words would
he vo «lone. .

Wild Bill quickly turned away, for he was
deeply attached to the boy, and With the courage

\
1

 

 

L We;  a“.

 

 

 

 

 

 

naval“

 

311E310 Billy. the Boy Bullwhacker. ‘5 ‘

 

of a lion had the heart of a woman, and hated
to give him up, but felt that he was acting for
his good.

“ Come, pards, let us and chaw buffalo-
steaks now, and talk over the best trail for you
to take East,” he said; so the party went into
cam , and soon sat down to a delicious supper
for ungry men, and with darkness creeping
over the prairie, and the fires blazing brightly,
the scene was one of picturesque beauty, and
only to be seen on the plains of the far West.

A substantial repast, a long talk with Wild
Bill, a general handshaking of farewell with the
men of the train, and Billy, the Boy Bullwhack—
er, left his comrades, with whom he had shared
many hardships and dangers on the long trail,
to go with strangers, to guide them back to the
land of civilization, and to place upon his young
shoulders the weight of a fearful responsi ility.

 

CHAPTER IV.
A NOVEL BATTLE.

“CAPTAIN, where is your lay-out?” was the
business-like question of Buffalo Billy, as he
threw himself into his saddle, with a muttered
exclamation, as he was suddenly recalled to the
fact of his ten-mile ride on the sharp back of a
buffalo.

“ Is thar a pin in yer saddle, Billy?” asked an
old teamster.

“ It kinder feels that way, Buck: now, cap—
tain, wh ere’s the lay-out?”

“About ten miles to the southward, on the
banks of a small creek; we’ve been there since
our guide died, and have been on the lookout
for your train; are you ready?” answered Hank

SW88.

Buffalo Billy’s re 1 was to wave his hat
to the crowd, grasp ild Bill's hand in another
parting grip, and dash away, followed by the
miners.

“ Be careful 0’ those reds who chased you this
afternoon, Billy, they are hanoing round,
£011; may be certain,” warnineg called out Wild

1

At a rapid gallop the little arty of horsemen
rode on, their Boy Guide nzljrrowly watching
the Prairie ahead. and his companions as atten-
tive y watchin him, and gaining confidence in
his_ability, as 9 held an unswerving line for
their camp, they having told him the locality
where it lay.

A few miles were gone over, when all of a
sudden the moon arose ana the prairie horizon,
and Billy drew rein.

“ What is it, guide?” asked Hank Hayes.

“ I saw some shadows ss between us and the
moon, and they were njuns,” was the cool

reply.

‘ What is to be done?”

“Oh, they don’t see us, and we can bend
to the right and perhaps avotd them; you say
your rdghare‘well 

‘ es e can o te cam ainsta
hundred red-gkins.” p 8%

i “ Good .l then let us on,” and swerving to the
right oblique. the guide held on his way for
awhile, but to again suddenly draw rein.

- “Those fellows do see us, for they have
changed their course,” said the young guide.

 

‘-‘ How do you know, youngster?”

“ See ’em,” was the short reply.

“ You can see more’u we can.”

“My eyes are younger; but yours are sharp
or ought to be, as you’ve been searching for
dust.”

“ You bet; we was sharp—eyed enough to
strike a rich lead; but I can’t see any sign—can
you. rds?”

H a) l”

“ Not a shadder.”

“ The youngster’s too sharp—eyed fer me.”

“I see ther pararer, ther skies, ther moon
an’ ourselves.”

Such were the answers of the miners; but
they did not convince Billy that he was mis- ‘
taken, for he cautiously rode forward again,
and soon after came to another halt, and
asked:

“ Are your horses fast and fresh?”

“ Not very; why?” answered the ca min.

“ Well, my pony is dead—beat, an therefore
we will have to fight for it,” was the cool re-
joinder.

“ \Vhat do you mean, my boy?” asked Bank
Hayes, now convinced that the young guide
was assured of pressm danger.

“ I mean that the ndians who chased me on
my bufl‘alo this afternoon, were lying in wait,
and have now surrounded us.”

“ What! Do you mean it?”

“ I do; they are nearly half a mile from us,
but have formed a circle entirely around us, and
are moving as we move.”

“ But we can break through their line.”

“ We could. perhaps, if all our horses were
fresh and swift; but they would at once charge
upon us did we attempt it, and now they are
closing in their circle.”

The miners were now impressed with the
danger of their position, for sharp glances
around the horizon showed them that the In—
dians could now he distinctly seen; and, al-
though they were men who had roughed it for

ears on the border, they felt that their safety
hiy wholly in the hands of a. boy, and to him ,
they turned for advice, and Hank Hayes asked:

“Well, Billy, what’s to be done about it?”

“ Fight it out!”

“ How many Indians are there in the party?"

“About a hundred.”

“ And we are six; the chances are fear-fully
against us.”

“ Ohl we’ll never say die! See, they are clos-
ing in rapidly and what we do we must do
quickly,” said the boy.

“ But what are we to do, Bill ?”

“ Fight them right here. an Wild Bill will
come to our rescue, as soon as he hears the firing,
for I will open first with my repeating rifle, and
he knows its voice." .

“Well, you is ther doctor, boy, so give yer
prescription. an’ we’ll take ther dam,” said one
of the miners. .

Billy cast another searching glance around
the horizon. and then sprung to the ground, at
the same time calling upon the miners to do
likewise, while he said reproachfully: 7

" Kit. old fellow, I hate to, but I must, for it"s
life or death withus now.” '

Drawing his knife he at once cut the throat of

 

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hispony, who fell to the ground in a dying con-
dition, while the miners. grim bordermen that
they were. seemed momentarily hm rifled.

“ Quick! down with your horses, for they
must be our barricade,” cried the oung guide,
and four of the five at once obeyed):

“ Why don’t you obey?” angrily cried Billy
Cody, as the fifth miner stood quietly by the side
of his animal.

“ You said hosses, boy pard, an‘ I rides a
mule,” was the laconic response.

“ So much the better for you; his hide is
tougher " laughed the Boy Guide, and springing
forwar he quickly severed the mule’s 'ugular
vein, and then, by his advice the anim s were
drawn together, so as to form a circular barri—
cade, and into this the men sprung, and squatted
down, their arms ready for use.

In forming this novel breastwork, of their
horses which had but a moment before been
hearing them over the prairie, a couple of min-
utes on y were consumed, yet in that time the
Indians had advanced ra idly, and were now
not three hundred yards istant, and charging
upon the little party from all sides.

The Boy Guide was perfectly cool, and with
his repeating rifle across the back of his dead
ponv said quietly:

“Wait until they come within sixty yards
before you fire; I will give it to them at twice
that distance, and Wild Bill will know my rifle
is ringing out for help.”

“ But will he come?” asked Hank Hayes.

“ You bet; Wild Bill never deserted a friend
in trouble or a fee in a. fight. Here they come,
so kee cool and don’t throw a shot away.”

As illy Cody s ke he ran his eye a ong the
sights of his ri e, for the moon now shone
brightly upon the scene, and the next instant
the formidable weapon began to flash forth its
six shots with a re idity that was marvelous and
a skill that was eadly, for down went several
horses and riders.

“ Now let them have it!” cried the boy, and
the Mississi pi yagers, with which the miners
were arme , sent their leaden bullets into the
charging red-skins, while the Boy Guide re-
loaded his rifle with a cool and rapil hand, and
had it ready for use by the tune the last of his
comrades had fired, and once more it spoke with
deadly effect.

Unable to face such a fearful rain of lead, the
Indians broke in confusion, and quickly lied out
of range, followed by the exaltant shouts of the
whites.

“ Boy, Wild Bill spoke ospel truth when he
called on the boss!” cried nk Hayes.

“ W o is hurt?" was Buffalo Billy’s response,

and he looked around upon the little party upon
whom showers of arrows had been sent, the car-
casses of the animals catching them.
' “ Nary one, boy, tho’ some errors hit ther ole
mule, but wouldn’t stick, he’s so tough: but is
ther reds comin‘ ag’ini” answered the owner of
the mule.

“ Oh, yes! they’ll doubtless charge in force on
one side next time as they see we are too much
for them in a line.”

“ And here the come: steady all!” called out
Hank Hayes, an all saw that the Indians were

fight began, Buffalo Bill again opening at long
range With his repeating rifle.

This time the red-skins made a more deter-
mined charge, and not until the Boy Guide call-
ed out to his comrades to drop their rifles, and
use revolvers, were the checked, and then
ggyiiwhen the fire of the ‘eged became most

y.

" By Hoke ! the don’t like it abit,” cried
Billy, joyous y, an he again turned to see who
had been hurt, saying pleasantly:

“ I ot my hair parted with an arrow, but it’s
all rig t."

“ An’ 8. arrer glanced on ther iron hide 0’ this
dumed muel an’ cut into my shoulder,” growled
Dan Beckett.

“Anybody else hurt i” asked Hank Hayes.

“ Nary! I guesses they’ll let us alone now, durn
’em,” returned a miner.

“ You don’t know Injuns, if you think so, for
they’ll be more in earnest now and try cunning,”
was Billy Cody’s opinion.

“ Cunning hain’t goin’ ter serve ’em eny," res
sponded Beckett.

“ That we will have to wait and sec. Hullo!
see their little game now,” and the boy pointed
out upon the prairie, to where several dark
objects were moving slowly toward the barri-
cade.

“They is creepin’ upon us on their hands an’
knees,” said Benton Burke, a miner.

“ No, they are shoving their dead ponies be.
fore them as they come; see, there are a dozen
horses, and about three lnjuns behind each, new
we have to look out,” and Buffalo Billy eagerly
gazed u n the dark, moving objects that were
slowly, ut surely drawing nearer the besieged
miners.

Presently the repeating rifle flashed, and with
a wild war-whoop a savage sprung up from be—
hind a pen and fell dead in his tracks, while the
boy remar ed quietly:

“He wasn’t care 111 enough, and—but hur-
rah! bravo! there’s Wild Bill and his boys,”
and as he spoke loud shouts were heard beyond
the Indian lino, followvd by shots and the sound
of hoof-strokes, and into view dashed half a
hundred men on horseback, scattering the red—
skins in wild flight and confusion.

“Billy, my boy. where are you?” then came
in the well-known voice of lVild Bill.

“ Here! but don’t hurt our dead lnjuns,”
cried the Boy Guide, and he bounded out of the
barricade, followed by his comrades.

“ Six of you, good! Nobody’s checks called
in? Didn’t I tell yer my young pard were a
boss boy for I recognize his work there,” and
Wild Bui inred to the slain animals.

“You id for a fact, and he is chain-light-
ning, and if he can’t take our train through,
nobody can,” was the answer of Hank Ha es
and the Boy Bullwhacker found himself in eed
a hero on_ the border, where it took men of

nerve to Win a name.

CHAPTER V.
THE BURIED TREASURE.

IT was many weeks after the miners’ fight
With the Indians, that a wagon, drawn by six

 

now coming in two columns, and once more the

mules, and followed by thirteen horsemen, was



 

 

 

 

 

" Bufi‘alo Billy. the Boy Bullwhacker. ‘7

 

slowly approaching the Solomon River, near
the center of what is now the State of Kansas.

A glance at the wagon and team, and the
costumes of the horsemen would indicate that
they had passed through many hardships, for
the wheels were bound up with rawhide ropes,
the harness was mended in so many places,
that it was hard to tell which was the original
and which the patches, while the clothing of
the men was travel-soiled and much worn.

And yet, the faces of the men were cheerful,
for their dangers were being left behind them,
and in a few more weeks they would reach the
Mecca of their hopes, and their Boy Guide
would have run them in safety‘into Leaven-
worth.

It was near sunset, and the eyes of all were
Searching the prairie waste ahead in hope of
seeing a winding stream on which to encamp for
the night, for they had been compelled to make
a Wide detour from the regular train, in order
to avoid Indians and road—agents, reported by
westward—going trains they had met,‘ to be ly~
ing in wait for the silver miners returning
home.

And this wide circuit had cost them the loss
of one of their wagons, and half their mules,
and so shaken u the other vehicle, with its
heavy load, that it was hourly in danger of de-
positing its precious cargo upon the earth.

“ I‘m a-prayin’ fer two things now, pards, an’
that is thet ther ole hearse 1-. ill holdup on its
legs, an’ thet we’ll not hcv to go intern dry camp*
to—night.” ~

“ Those are my prayers, too, Burke, but I
fear they will not be answered in either case,”
said Carl Moran, a handsome young miner of
twonty-five, whose small hands and feet, and
general appearance indicated that he had been
born a gentleman, whatever had been the
cause of his becoming a minor in the far
West.

“ Upon the principle of the prayers of the
wicked availing naught, paras, guess; but I
always ask Buffalo Billy here, when I want to
know anything. How is it, boy—will the
hearse hold out. and will we strike a. dry camp
to—night?” and Hank Hayes turned to the B0
Guide, who had brought them safely throng
all dangers thus far, and who was mounted upon
a wiry spirited animal which he had named
Little Gray, and the same horse that Wild Bill
had presented him. ‘-

“ Oh‘! there’s a stream not far ahead, I know,
from the lay of the land; but as to the old cart
holding out, I don’t—”

A sudden crashing of timbers interrupted
what more he would have said, and with a snap
following the crash, the wagon was a wreck
for the foreaxle had brokcn in two, and a wheel
had fallen in fragments, and the pole was rent
mtwain which startled the mules and caused
them to‘  forward with a force that jerked
the vehicle into a. mass which a wheelwright
could not have remedied.

“ Curse the luck!” and various harder epi—
thels Sprung from thirteen lips in chorus,
While. unable to repress his boyish humor,
Buffalo Billy broke forth in a peal of ringing

 

* Dry camp—To encamp where there is no water.

 

laughter. “It’s durned funny, hain’t it, boy,
ter hev our fortin’ spilt heur on thcr pararer,
an‘ no help in hundreds 0’ miles,” said Benton
Burke growlingly. 4.

f “th there’s no need crying over spilt milk
or—

“ But it ain’t spilt milk; it are spilt silver,

boy.”
‘,‘ Well, there is but one thing to do about
it ’ v

“ And that is, Billy?” asked Carl Moran.

“ To cache it here and then go on to Leaven-
worth after wagons.”

“ Lordy, boy, we hesn’t ther time, for we hes
ter git back tcr Colorado an’ work out our lead,
or we might git left,” declared Burke.

“All we can do, as Billy says, is to bury the
treasure, and we can go with what we can
carry, and that will give us a good time and
make our folks comfortable,” put in Carl
Moran.

“ And what then, pard?” inquired Hank
Hayes, who was the nominal leader of the

arty.

“ Oh! when we have dug all we can git out
of the mines, we can git this on our way back
to ther States, for it will keep.”

This advice of Carl Moran was about the
best that could be followed under the circum-
stances. and to 1056 no time they at once set to
work placing on the mules all the silver they
wished to carry, after which a hole was dug in
the prairie, the sod being carefully taken 03' to
replace again, and the dirt deposited upon the
wagon-tilt. s

An hour’s work, and the treasure was buried
and sodded over carefully, while the extra dirt
was wrapped up to throw into the nearest
stream. ~

“ Now the wagon,” said Buffalo Billy. and the
broken vehicle was dragged some distance away
and set fire to, after which the Boy Guide
drew a rough ma p of the locality and bearings,
and the party started once more on their way,
the youth walking and driving pegs made from
the wheel-spokes, into the prairie as he went
along.

“There goes my last stake, and there's a.
stream,” suddenly cried Buffalo Bill , as in the
darkness ahead, a line of cottonwooas was dis~
cerned, which he knew fringed the banks of a.
prairie stream.

“I‘ll go and cut you some stakes, Billy,”
said Hank Hayes, and then all rode forward,
leaving the boy standing by the side of the last
pe he had driven into the ground.

11 a short while Hank returned, and the stake
line was continued to the base of a large cotton
wood, upon which a mark was made.

“ Now I’ll finish the map, and then you can
find the treasure with our eyes shut,” said
Billy, and, by the firelig t. for a cheerful fi_re
was soon burning, he made the necessa dia-
gram complete, and handed it to Carl oran,
saying as he did so: _ ~

"‘ If you can’t strike the trail right, look me
up and I’ll find your treasure for you, for there’s

a fortune in that hole back on the prairie, and ,_

it won’t do to lose it.” _
“You are right, boy; it won‘t do to lose it,
for, as you say, there’s a fortuneflthere for one

5M'4.Wm»b.m

- zgtm'saju

{one ‘ 2.3.1::

1.3%.; 2.-

 - " nzssmzmgvs v.1»: anyway-Ac.

8 fiuflalo fiilly, the

gay Bullwhaciéi’.

 

man,” and a strange, evil glitter came into the
eyes of Carl Moran, which Billy detected; but
he made no reply, and turned away to look
after the comfort of Little Gray, who in spite of
the reputation given him for deviltry by Hank
Ha es, was a s lendid animal, and as faithful
to is youthfu master as a dog would have
been.

An hour more and, after a hearty suppier the
miners sought rest, excepting Hank ayes,
gafse night it was to stand guard with Buffan

y.

But, with the first ray of dawn in the East
they awoke to continue their journey home-
ward—no, not all awoke, for there was one who
remained quiet, unheeding the jokes of his com—
rades to arouse him.

“ Come, Burke, we’ll leave you behind if you
don‘t rouse yourself,” said Carl Moran approach-
in , and shaking his comrade.

ut no answer came, and Carl Moran started
back with a cry upon his lips, and the startling
words:

“ Great God! boys, he‘s dead J”

It was too true; the spirit of the miner, from
some cause unknown, had taken flight, and he
had sunk to sleep forever, while his comrades
slumbered peacefully around him; and the alert
sentinels on duty had not discovered the ap~
proach of the foe that none could elude.

Beneath the shade of the cottonwoods upon
the banks of the limpid stream, lSenton
Burke founda grave—thefirst of the doomed
thirteen.

 

CHAPTER VI.
A BOY’S THREAT AND A MAN’S DEED.

WITHOUT further accident the miners reached ~

Leavenworth under the guidance of Bufialo
Billy, and the boy, with his well-earned money,
started for the home of his mother and sisters,
where he at once became a hero in their eyes,
and received a welcome that made his heart

8But there was one thing that troubled the
Boy Bullwhacker, for he soon discovered that
his sister, Julia, to whom he was devotedly at-
tached, was deeply interested in a young man
of whom little ood could be said.

Kent King, or such was his name, was cer-
tainlya very handsome man, possessed a fine
form, and had very winning ways, and was
noted as the best shot and rider in that part of
the country, and was looked upon as a person
whom it would not be safe to arouse.

But Billy Cody had heard strange stories of
him, and that he was a man that no true wo—
man should own as a friend, and this he made
kuownto his sister who, he saw with regret,
had become more interested in the handsome
stran r than she cared to admit.

See ng that she paid no heed to his remon~
strance regarding Kent King. Buffalo Billy
concluded he would take the matter in his own
hands, for, as he soon expected to start across
the plains again, he did not wish to leave his
sister under the influence of a man for whom he
had formed the bitterest hatred.

Watching his opportunity, one day after
Kent King had departed from the house, Billy

took the youn man, who was attired in a fancy
suit of bucks 'n, for he Was considerable of a
dandy in his dress.

“Well, Billy, which way?" asked the gam—
bler, for such e really was, as the boy dashed

up.
“I am after you, Kent King, for I have
something to say to you,” was the decided re—

pl .

i: Out with it, boy for I do not care to be de-
tained,” answered kent King, nettled by the
boy’s manner.

“ You will remain long enough to hear what I
have to say, Kent King.

“By Heaven! you take a saucy tone for a
boy; but, for the sake of vour sister, I’ll not
cli‘p §our comb, youngster.’

eut King, for the sake of my sister I de-
mand that you never again visit my mother’s
house.”

A scornful laugh was the response, and then
came the rude question:

“ And suppose I say I will, what then?”

“ I will see that you never repeat your visit,”
was the fearless response. .

“You! you, a boy, make threats to me?” and
the man turned livid.

“Yes, for I know you tobe a card sharp, a
scam and a murderer.”

“ a! I will have to teach you a lesson’
youn ter,” and the stout riding-whip of the

amb or was raised for a blow; but it did not

escend, for instantly the muzzle of a revolver
stared him in the face, and it was held in ahand
of iron, while Bill said soornfully:

“ Strike, Kent ing, and I’ll save my sister
future misery.”

The man saw that the boy was master, and
he had heard enough of his career to know that
his life would be the forfeit of a blow, and he
said calmly:

“ I was a fool, Cody, to lose my temper with
you, for it is right that you should act for your
sister’s welfare. Lower your pistol, for I want
no (buarrel with you.” '

“ 0 you swear not again to visit in home?”
came the bold uery, and the revo ver still
covered the gamb er’.

“I will not be forced into 1promises in boy.”

“But you shall be, for ent King know
you; ah, know thagdyou deserted a young irl
whom you pretend to marry, and killed er
brother who sought to avenge her: yes, know
that you are a card-sharp cheat, and villain
generally. and I say you shall not again visit
my sister.” ,

“Well, boy, you draw a high-colored icture
of me, but it is false, and I dechne to be ullied
into pledges, and I won’t.”

“Hold! drop your hands, nick!”

“With a curse, the man 0 yed, for the boy
had seen the sudden effort to draw a weapon,
and still held the vantage over him.

“ Do you swear you will not again visit my
home?” asked Billy Cody presently.

“ A forced oath amounts to nothing.”

“ I’ll risk it; do you swear?"

“ Suppose I refuse?” ,
“Then I’ll kill you, Kent King, as I would
an lujun.”

 

threw himself upon Little Gray and soon over-

The man saw that the youth was determined,

 

 

 

 

 

Bahia Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker. 9

M

and loving life, cared to take no chances, so he
said, sullenly:

“ Of course I swear under the circumstances.”

“ Very well' now goI but I swear to you
Kent King, if I see you at my home again, I
will kill you. Go I”

The man scowled, but made no reply, and
urged his horse forward; but suddenly his hand
Went to his hip, and wheeling quickly, there fol-
10wed a. flash and sharp report.

Not expecting treachery, Billy Cody had been
taken by surprise, for he had returned his own
pistol to his belt. and, though he saw the move-
ment of the gambler, it was too late to draw
again, and as King was a lightning drawer of a
weapon and a dead shot, his bullet struck the
human target at which it was aimed, for, with
a, spring from his saddle the boy fell heavily to
the ground, while Little ' Gra bounded away,
neighing Wildly; and driving  spurs into the
flanks of his horse, the assassin headed for the
town at full speed, a grim smile upon his dark,
handsome face.

CHAPTER VII.
TEE MIDNIGHT VISITORS.

“ THAT’S the good of bein hard-headed.”

The speaker was Billy ‘ y, who was sitting
in the road, his hand caressin a wound in the
top or his head, where the bu et of Kent King
had cut its way under the scalp for a couple of
inches and then sped on, the shock temporarily
stunning the youth.

As soon as he recovered consciousness, Billy
had‘realized what had taken place, and finding
that he had received only a scalp wound,
thouight little of it, for he was not 'ven to
min ing slight injuries, having reoeiv , young
as he was, many a hard knock in his experience
on the plains.

“ Mother has always said 1 was hard—headed,
and I’m right glad I am, or that Kent King
would have caused mourning in the Cody
family; and Little Gray has gone home to carry
the news, so I must be on my way, or mother
and the girls will be awful scared.”

He arose to his feet, rubbed his head again
to see that he was all right, and started on the
back trail for home, ever and anon giving vent
to his feelings by talking aloud, and what he
said boded no good to Kent King.

He had not proceeded far before he met two
of his sisters on horseback, riding rapidly and
evidently frightened, while Little Gray, whose
coming riderless home, had caused their anxiety,
was trotting behind like the faithful horse he
had proven himself, in spite of the bad reputa-
tion he had before he be'came the property of
the youth.

Pulling his hat half round that he might hide
the wound he had received, Buflalo Billy greet-
ed his sisters, one of whom was Julia, and told
them-that he had been unexpectedly fired upon;
but who had been the intended assassin he
woufd not say, and making light of his injury he
returned home, where his mother soon dressed
the wound that had sonearly proven fatal to
her only son.

“ J ule, I would like to seeyou,” said the youth,
when his motherand other sister had left the

 room.

 

“Well, Billy, what is it?” and the maiden
turned her handsome eyes upon her brother,
though there was somethin In his tone as he
spoke to her, that broug 1; color into her
c eeks, as though she anticipated what was
comm .

“Ju e, do you love Kent King?” name the
abrupt question.

1‘(ZWhy Billy, what a question for you to
as . ‘

“ I mean it; do you love that man?”

“I hardly know; he is very handsome, talks
weél, ,and is different from t e others I meet,
an -—

“ And what, Jule?”

“ And says that he wants me to love him.”

“ As he has said to many another girl; I tell
yog, Jule, he is as treacherous as an Injun,
an n

“ No no. Billy, you must not speak so of Mr.
King, for I believe him to be a good man,” said
the maiden, with some show of anger.

“And I know him to be a rascal, Jule; nay,
listen, he shot me here,” and he placed his hand
upon his head. .

“ Kent King shot you, Billy?” and J ulia Cody’s
face turned deadly pale.

“ Yes; I have heard enough about him to
make me know that he is a very bad man, and I
made him swear not to come here a in—”

“ Not to come here a in? oh, Bil y!”

“ I mean it, Jule, an he swore as I told him;
but as he turned away he fired upon me without
warning, and believes he has killed me.”

“Oh, Billy!” was all the maiden could say,
for suddenly was her idol shattered, as the fas-
cinating gambler had already made an Impres-
sion upon her young heart. .

“ Do you speak the truth, brother?” she sud-
deulv asked.

“Yes, Jule; I would not' tell a lie, even on
Kent King." ~ . .

“Then never again will I see him, Billy and

I thank you for saving me from a man w 0 so ’

willingly would aim at my brother’s life,” she
said rankly. I

“‘llou are a good girl, Jule, and I Will prove
to you that Kent King is all that is bad.”

“But he goes away at daylight, Billy, tobe
gone nearly a car, for he guides a train of emi-
grants to the or West.”

“Kent King guides a train, Jule; what can
you mean i”

“ He says he is a plainsman, and Judge Hale
has engaged him as ide for his train.”

Billy was seeming y puzzled at this stran
news, and seemed also pained, for boy that e

was, already had he experienced a lovepang in.

his heart for one fair maiden.

Itmattered not to him that she was two years
his senior. he had loved her for several years,
and it was her father, Judge Hale, who was
going to push further West to find a home, no-
companied bya number of other bold spirits,
and of this train Kent King was to he the
guide, and of course he would fall in_ love with
Sweet Mary Hale, for who could help it?

“ Jule. when does the Hale train start West!” .2’

he asked, suddenly.
“ Next Mondayl’ »
“ Well, I‘ll take that chance of going West to

{

 

 

 

10 311!an Billy, the

join Wild Bill, for I can go to bullwhacking
a in.’

“No, no, Billy, you will not again face the
terrible dangers of the plains!”

“ Must, Jule. for if I loaf what’ll keep the
pothgilingl Yes, I’ll go West with the Hale
rain.

“ And Kent King?" asked Jule, earnestly,

“0h! I‘ll have nothing to do with him, you
may”be certain, so long as he keep; away from

on.

“ But he may again seek your life, Billy.”

“ Gue$ not, sis- if he does, he‘d better not.”

“Oh brother! I fear trouble ahead between
you and Kent King."

f‘Don‘t trouble, Jule; he knows me, and I
know him; but do not speak of what I told you
of his shooting me and I’ll not let him see that
I remember it, uh ess he brings it up; but don’t
fret about me, for Wild Bill says I wasn’t
1porn t3 be drowned, hanged, or killed by an

n un.

'1‘ But Kent King is not an Indian.”

“ No, he is Worse—ha! what is Watch barking
so about I wonder?” ‘

As Billy spoke, the faithful watch-do gave a
sudden yelp of pain and then all was si out for a
moment.

“ Quick! Jule, out with that light: now go up
stairs, for there’s somebody about that means
mischief,” cried Billy, and quickly his sister
obeyed and they were in total darkness; but
from the head of the stairway was heard his
mother’s voice:

“ Billy, do not go out, for there are half a
dozen men at the door.”

“ I’ll be cautious, mother: now, J ule, run up—
stairs,” said the brave boy. ,

“ No, Billy, I will not leave you, for—”

“ For what, J ule?” he asked, as his sister

paused.

“For I feel that Kent King has come for
me as he swore to-day I shou d marry him, if
he had to drag me from my home.” .

“He’ll have a lively time doing it; now I
am ready," and Billy took his stand by the
door, a revolver in each hand, while without
were heard voices conversing in a low tone that
boded evil.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
AT HOME TO FRIENDS on FOES.
“ HERE Jule, you answer them, if they

’
knock,” ordered Billy Cody in a whisper, and
the brave girl took her stand at the side of her
brother, just as a loud knocking was heard upon
the door.

“ Who is there?” asked the maiden calmly.

“ We are neighbors, Widow 7, come over
to see if we can serve you, having heard your
son Billy was killed this afternoon,” said a voice
in a kindly tone, which caused Mrs. Cody to im-
modiatel call down—stairs:

“Let t em in, Billy for it was kind of them
to come over, and I will make them some
ooflee.”

“ It was not kind of them. mother; they are
not neighbors, and I’ll see that they get coffins
instead of oofl'ae, if they attempt to come in,”

Boy Bullwhacker.

whis red back the boy, while his sister said
alou and in a mock sad tone:

“ Billy was shot but he needs no aid.”

“ That’s right, ule; let ’em think I’ve cashed
in in chips, and then they‘ll show their hand
and ’11 trump it with sixes,” whispered Billy in
a tone of real glee, for he was charmed at the
surprise he meditated.

“Waal, we corned over to help yer, an’ it’s
only doin’ ther pel lite ter ax us in,” said a gruff
velce. x

“These are too dangerous times to open our
Egon; to strangers at midnight,” responded Jule,

m1 . .

“B’iit we is friends. and we will come in,’
came grufliy from without.

“ You will find us prepared to greet either
grifnds or foes,” was the fearless response of

u e.

“ Then, as you’ve refused our friendship,
you’ll find us foes," said the first speaker, and
at once heavy blows were struck u n the
door, causing it to bend inward un or their
force.

“Hold! I warn you off!” cried Jule, in a
stern tone, between the blows, 'while Billy
stood by in raptul'es at the surprise he would
give the marauders with his “hands full of
trumps.” as he expressed it, for Buffalo Billy,
boy thou h be was, had been enough among
the gamb ers of the border to know all their
professional terms.

Louder and louder came the blows heavier
and heavier, until the stout bolt at last gave
wa and the head and shoulders of a burly
ru an appeared in the open space.

“Now it’s my play,” was the boy‘s cool re-
mark, and at the flash of his pistol the bold in-
truder fell dead.

fall a corpse moms the threshold.

This summary mode of greeting foes caused
‘the others to retreat rapidly to a corner of the
house where a stern voice was heard urging
the others on.

“Quick, Jule, take my rifle and run up to
the east Window and let ’em have it," cried
Billy, and instantly his sister obeyed, for a mu.
ment after there came a ringing report from

while a loud voice cried:

“Back here. you cowards! the b0
and will you allow an old woman an
to beat you off?”

“Tain‘t healthy here, cap‘n, an’ I doesn’t
want ter cafrh ther lead fever t’other boys
hes died with," answered a voice from under
the houso.

Then down through the flooring went a shot,
and an oath and scuflling followed, and then
running feet were heard, as the man sou ht
shelter elsewhere, with a rifle-shot from ule
at the upper windows flying in pursuit of him.

“Set the cursed honse on firel” then, com-
manded the same stern voice.

“My rifle here, quick, Jule!” and Billy, with
the recklessnem of boyhood and his nature,
sprung out of the door and began to fire in the
direction of the thicket where the marauders
had taken refuge.

is dead,
her girls

 

/

But another sprung into his place to likewise ‘

above, and a shriek and running feet below,.

Instantly a general stampede took place, a

‘ “ v ~1-rls...,... ,
n (gt

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bufl'alo Billy, the

Boy Bullwhacker. - 11

 

while one voice cried out in a tone of horror,

v as.the' flashes of the rifle showed who was

firing it:
“ he boy, by Heaven! and not dead I”

Then away fled the band, and Billy quietly
dragged the two bodies in the house, and his
mot er and sisters came down-stairs, bringing
lights with them.

“My brave b0 , from what have you not
saved us!” said wi ow Cody.

“ Can’t tell, mother, till I see who they are_
aha! they are masked, and, I know them now,”
and he took the masks from their faces.

“And Who are they?” asked his mother and
sisters in a breath.

, “Some of the gangJ in Leavenworth known
as the Satan’s Pets; ut they were not acting
on their own account, I guess,” and the boy
lancer] quickly toward his sister Jule, who un~
erstood his look, and turned deadly pale, for
she read what was in his thoughts regarding
Kent King.

 

CHAPTER lX.
TWO FROM THIRTEEN.

WHEN the news went into Leavenworth, of
the dastardly attack upon the home of widow
Cody, it was set down to the act of a gang of
ruflians who had latelymbeen committing de—
predations in the neigh rhood, and the Vi ‘~
lantes assembled to be ready for work shou d
the perpetratms be discovered.

Of course the affair added to the fame of
young Cody, and he became a hero in the eyes
of men, as well as in the estimation of the
country, for, though a boy in years, he was
known to beone that could render a good ac-
count of himself in any afiair where nerve and
strength were concerned.

Whatever the settle-rs thou ht of the attack
on. the Cody farm, Buffalo illy had his own
opinion on the subject, and in it his sister Jule
concurred after the two had had a talk upon the
subject, but the decision they arrived at was to
remain a secret between them.

The night before the Hole train, as it was
called, was to start for the Far West, Billy Cody
rode into Leavenworth, and with the easy devil-
me—oare air that characterized him. sauntered
along the streets, nodding leasantly to those
whom he knew, or stopping or a chatwith some
recently returned silver miner, Californian, bull-
whacker or scout, to glean what ideas he could
of the latest news from the border.

Of his intention to go with the Hale train he
had said nothing to any one excepting his sister
Jule; but now, meeting several men who had
joined the party, he casually asked if they had
enga eda ide.

‘ es, Billy; ther jedg; seems set \on thet
velvet-faced card—sharp, ent King, beiu’ the

th-flnder inter ther wilderness o’ red-skins, s n’
har’s no ’busin’ his mind out o’ it; but why he
sh’u‘d want him, I dunno,” answered Bullwhip
Ben, the Prince of Bullwhackers, while a long-
legged Yankee, whose peculiar forte for strik-
ing a bargain under any and all circumstances,
hadigained him the name of “ Old Negotiate,”

ut n:

p “I uesses he don’t know ther Republican
from t er Platte, an’ et he don’t lead us a thou~

sand miles off ther trail, P11 giv’ yer my pony,
Bill , if you’ll giv’ me yourn.

“ think too much of Little Gray, Negotiate,
to risk him on the result; but I have heard that
King has spent much time upon the border, and
was once in the border arm . Anyhow, there
will be somebody along who ows the trail if
he don’t," averred Billy‘ Codi.

“I’ll negotiate my ullw ip ag’iu’ yer sad-
dle, Billy, that he spends more time urin"
honey inter the:- ear 0’ pretty Mar Ha e, then
he does lookin’ fer ther trail, fer e’s softy on
thet gal, an’ they does say as how ther jedge
wants ’em ter splice.”

Billy’s face grew dark at this, but he made no
reply and passed on to the “ Star of Empire,”
where the prairie men of all descriptions gather-.
ed day and night, to ass the time in conversa—
tion, gambling, d7 inking and any other amuse-
ment that suited their humor.

A score of voices greeted young Cody on his
arrival, for he was universally popular, and as
man invitations were iven him to:

“ tep up an’ hcv en in’, Billy?"

“ Moisten yer coppers, Boy Pard ?"

“Sling tanglefoot, youngster?” r

“ Come p’izen yerself with corn-juice?”

But to all these pressing invitations Billy
Cod returned the answer: -
“ 0, thank you, pards, I’m too young a child
yet to mix drinks.”

“ Why, what has yer been drinkin’, boy Z”
asked one.

“ Milk !"’

“ Oh! you isn‘t weaned yet!” said a whisky
sotz insolcntlv.

‘ No and I don’t want to be, if I had to carry
a sign]; like you have on your face.”

“ hat’s ’er matter With my face, boy?” and
the loafer put his hand caressineg upon his
whisky-tinted visage.

“Yer nose is as red as a beet,” cried one.

“He is a beat: a dead beat, and the largest I
ever saw cultivated in Kansas soil,” responded
Billy, and in the laugh that followed at. the
loafer’s expense, Billy glided into the large
social hall, where he suddenly came upon Kent
King, rigged out in a new suit of buckskin, and
armed to the teeth.

“ Well, King, you go West tomorrow, I
hear?” said the boy, addremin the gambler as
though nothing had occurred tween them of
an unpleasant nature.

At the sound of his voice Kent King wheeled
quickly round, and his hand involuntarily fell
upon the revolver on his hip; Lut seein that
the boy made no sign of hostility, and owed
no anger toward him, he answered, pleasantly:

“Yes, Billy, and per force of circumstances,
you see, I will have to keep away from your
home. Wish you could go along, too, as mist-
ant ide.”

“ bank you! I intend ieturning West soon:
in fact I am on] waiting for the arrival of a
cousin of mine, w o is to work the farm, before
I go, as I do not wish to leave my mother and
sisters unprotected, as you know a band of
devils came down upon us the other night.”

“So I learned, and that the two you killed
helnnged to Leavenworth. You were luck

 

Billy, to get rid of them; but I am going in a;

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try my luck, as the lamps are lighted now. Will
you come along?" ~

“Yes,” and ulfalo Billy followed Kent King
into a large room, toward which a tide of
humanity was setting, for it was the Gamblers’
Paradise, as it was called, though Purgatory
would have been a more appropriate name for it.

Already had a number of men seated them-
selves at the tables, at one of which Kent King
soon settled himself, and the diiferent games be

an, Bufl’alo Billy watching with considerable
interest the luck and misfortune of the players,
and sauntering from table to table.

Presently, seeing that Kent King was steadi-
ly winning. he walked over to another table,
around which stood a crowd watching the play—
ing of two men, whose recklessly large stakes
had driven other players away.

As he walked up a sudden scene of excitement
occurred, and one of the players cried, in an
angry tone:

" l ard, you is a darned cheat, an’ a keerd
sharp are no more ’11 a thief.”

“This to me, curse you!” came in the stern
tones of the other man, and the two )layers
were on their feet in an instant, whi e their
hands sought for weapons.

Whether one had suspected trouble or not
none knew; but certain it is a revolver appeared
with marvelous quickness, the flash and report
followed, and across the table dropped one of
the layers—the one who had accused the other
of c eating. '

“ Who are the stiff? Who knows him?”
i “Hain’t he no friends for ter keep the fun

1 movin’ l"

\

“Pal-d, wasn’t yer a leetle too quick on ther
draw?”

Such were the remarks that went round.
while Buffalo Billy, who had caught sight of
the dead man’s face, stepped (iuickl forward,
and turning the body over ooke into the
open, staring eyes, not set in death.

“ I know him; his name is Dan Beckett, and
he wasa Colorado miner,” announced the boy,
and he glanced over to where his murderer
smog, and instantly recognized him, for he
crie :

“Why, Carl Moran! I thought you were
Dan’s pard 1”

“Ab! Buffalo Billy, my Boy Guide, is it

on?” and with a revolver in his hand. as
hough expecting to be called to account, Carl
Moran stepped toward the youth, who said,
firmly: ‘

“No, Moran, I can’t take your hand, if, as
they say you shot your pard down without
warning.” I

An angry look came into the face of Carl
Moran, but checkin it, he said:

“He was my par , Bill , until of late he has
been seeking trouble wit me for some cause,
and be accused me of cheatlng, and I couldn‘t
stand that. He died because I pulled the
quickest. Come, boy, I’m glad tosee you again;
andihere’s dust to bury poor Dan decently.’
and throwing a small bag of gold onto the table

' Carl Moran turned away, while Buffalo Billy

gave the body of the silver miner to some one,
who romised it a decent burial, and leavmg
the tar of Empire, mounted his horse and

 

rode slowly homeward murmuring over and
over again, and evident y with deeper thoughts
behind the short utterance:

“ Two from thirteen, leave eleven.”

CHAPTER X.
THE MIDNIGHT MYSTERY.

THE Hale emigrant train had been gone
several days, before Buffalo Billy told his mother
that it was his intention to overtake it, and con-
tinue on in company to the far West, and again
join Wild Bill, whom he looked upon as a kind
of elder brother, though the noted plainsman
treated the boy more like a son than anything
0 so.

Of course it was with great regret that Widow
Cody bade her son farewell, for she fondly
hoped that he could be lured from his love of
wild life; but Billy told her he would again
return with a handsome sum of money, with
which to make the family comfortable, and his
cousin having come to cultivate the farm on
shares, he lost no time in striking the trail of
the train.

Continuing along at an easy gait, he hoped to
overtake it before reachingr the Republican
River, where they would either continue on
toward the Platte, or keep the.strai ht trail to
Denver, in the vicinity of which p ace it was
the intention of Judge Hale to form his settle-
ineut.

Thou h he and Kent King had apparently
“burl the hatchet,” the boy knew that the
man wanted him out of the way, and was only
friendly toward him to lull sus icion, while fdr
the gambler, who had sudden y turned guide,
Billy felt now an intense hatred, and intended
to keep an eye on him until the intended settle-
ment was reached, even should he miss Wild
Bill and have to hire out as bullwhacker to some
other party to get East once more.

One evening, an hour before sunset, when
within about forty miles of the Republican,
Buffalo Billy saw a storm arising and sought
shelter in' a thicket of cottonwoods, where he
quickly erected a “wick -up,” with the aid of
the hatchet he always be hanging to his saddle.

Into this shelter Little Gray and his rider
found refuge, and when the storm had blown
over, the evening meal of game, crackers and
coffee was enjoyed by the youth as much as
thou h served at home.

Ro 'ng himself in his blanket, after givin
Little Gray a good length of the lnriat to f
by, Buffalo Billy sought sleep, unawed by his
loneliness and the danger to which he was ex—

ose< . -
p He was awakened by feeling something warm
against his check, which he knew was Little

 

re .

“ %h3re’s something up: what is it, old
horse?” he said, in a low tone, well knowing
thalt1 Little Gray was a faithful guardian at
nig t.

Listening a moment, he heard voices in con- ‘
yersation, and hoof»strokes evidently approach-
ing the timber where he had sought shelter.

instantly he threw his saddle on Little Gray,
celled his lariat and awaited in silence the
comers. be they friends or foes.

Reaching the timber they dismounted, three

 

.m ~ [inasmuch .». ., l: , ,. «

  
 

 

 

 

nutran Billy, the Boy Bnnwhacker.

I

18

 

in number, and prepared to camp; but, though
Billy knew by their conversation that they
were white men, he dare not make his resence

» known, for he might run afoul of ma -agents,

 

)3



 

 

“may... mm. ~ 2 g

horse-thieves, or men who would be onl too
willing to try conclusions with him for little
Gra and his arms.

“ his place is hardly large enough for two
parties w 0 don’t know each other, little horse,
so I guess we’ll seek other quarters for the bal-
ance of the night,” said the boy, and he can-
tiously left the thicket, the faithful animal fol-
lowing closely behind him, and stepping as
noiselessly as a deer, seemingly appreciating the
danger.

A few hundred yards distant was another
thicket, which the youth had noticed, and in
this he took refuge, and soon made himself as
comfortable as the wet leaves and dismal place
would admit.

“ I wonder if I couldn’t bargain with them for
my dry wicky-up, Gray? I guess if Old Negoti-
ate was here he could arrange it: but now let us
go to slee , for it’s a long ride we have to—mor-
row,” an with an aifectionatecaress to his horse
Billy again rolled himself in his blankets and
son ht rest.

ow long he sle t he knew not, but he was
suddenly awaken by two shots fired in quick
succession.

Springingto his feet he glanced in the direc«
tion of the timber where he had first sought
refu e, and then came to his ears:

“ old, pard! yer isn’t gone mad to shoot yer
friends has yer— Oh!”

‘The last word rung out loud, and the sound
was drowned in the crack of a revolver, and then
all was still. '

“ This is worse than cats on amoonlight night,
Gray; there’s trouble yonder; yet, as it’s not our
funeral, guess we won‘t attend,” muttered the

outh, as he again threw the saddle on Little

rafi, and awaited new developments.

;‘ ray we are losing rest this night, but it
can’t be hel ,” and while his horse went on

azing, indifferent as to what had occurred over
in the motto near by, Billy sat down to await
coming events.

Feeling drow he sunk to sleep, and only
awoke With the awn.

Then he awaited until sunrise, and seeing no
sign of life in the motte, mounted Gray and can-
tiously approached the thicket.

As he drew nearer he heard a Whining, snarl-
ing sound, that told him that the living had gone
whoever they were, and that the dead remained
as the food for wolves.

. Dashing into the timber he scattered the fight-
1 , ravenous animals with a con la of shots and
be old before him a. sickenin sig t.

,At his feet, before a fire 5 owly dying away,
lay two bodies, upon which the wo ves had
already begun their feast, and in the White,
bearded faces turned up to him he recogniwfl
two of the Silver Miners he had guided across
the plains! .

Throwmg himself from his horse he bent over

‘ one of them, and cried out quickly:

“ It is Hank Hayes! poor fellow, to die thus;
and he was shot twice, so I know that he it
was Iheard [to speak last night to the one who

 

killed him. And there stand their horses, but
he who did the deed has gone. Poor fellows!
The wolves shall not pick your bones, for I will
bury you,’7 and the noble-hearted boy set about
his sad task. and beneath a tall sycamore the
miners found a last resting-place while in the
bark of the tree, with his keen knife, Buffalo
Billy cut the following inscription:

“ HANK HAYES
AND
BUCK GRANGER,
SILVER MINEns or COLORADO.
Killed by a Treacherous Pard.
FOUR mom THIRTEEN LEAVE NINE.”

CHAPTER XI.
A SECRET AND A MYSTERY.

THE night following the tragedy in the motto
as Bufl’alo Billy was riding slowly along, the
two horses of the murdered miners following
him, he suddenly sighted ahead the glow of
camp-fires, and soon after rode into camp, where
he was welcomed with a general shout of re-
joicing, for all who did not know the young
bullwhacker, had heard of his many daring ex-
pee

Well, Billy, what news do on bring?” asked
J udge Hale, as he greeted the boy.

“ Nothing of importance happened at Leaven-
worth before I left, but I found two dead men
in a motte back on the trail, and their murderer
has escaped: but here are their horses. Have
you had anybody join the train, sir?”

“ Not since we left Billy; but come up to my
lay-out, for Mary will be glad to see you, and
you will find there your old friend King, who
you know is our guide."

Billy nodded assent and followed the ju e,
an honest-faced old man of fifty-five, to 's
tent, before which sat Mary Hale, and Kent
King, watching a neg'ress prepare supper,
which was certainly most tempting, consisting
as it did of coffee, buffalo-steaks, wild turkey,
potatoes and corn-cakes. ,

Kent King’s face flushed as the youth a ar-
ed, and for that matter so did Mary Halo 5, but
with far different motives.

The maiden, however, who was a handsome
girl of eighteen, warmly extended her hand in
greeting, and said with marked emphasis:

“Billy, I am so glad you have come! you
will remain of course?” ’ '

“Of course he will, for I feel he has decided
to accept my offer to make him assistant guide
to the train, eh Billy?” broke in Kent King.

“ I am bound West to rejoin my old ,
Wild Bill, and his boys; but if I can be 0 ser5
vice I will gladly lend a hand, a rifle, or a re~
volver.” _

“ You shall be well paid for your serVices.”

“I neither ask, or will accept Eloy, Kent
King, for serving Judge Hale and .s party,”
quickly answered the youth, and turning to the
jud e, he asked: I

“ ow many le, Sir?” ~

“ Ninety—4111 to , with twenty-three fighting
men; then we have twenty wagons, two am-
hulances and my carriage, which make up a.

 

1

 

 

l4 Bufialo Billy, the

Bay Bullwhackei‘.

 

respectable show to scare off prowling bands of
Indians or outlaws.”

“ And you head along the Republican to the
Arickaree, I snppow, sir?"

“I have the trailI intend tofollow already
laid out Master Cody,” answered King, with a
slight show of anger; but the youth answered
coolly:

“That may be, but as it has certainly been
some time since on were West, and there are
localities now to avoided, and 1 know them,
I would like to make them known to you.”

_ “ When at fault I will call on you, Cody; but
this train has come prepared for every emer-
gency that mi ht arise. I can assure you, and 1
shall not lead it into danger.”

“Come, Susan says supper is ready. and I
am almost starved; come, father, Mr. King and
Billy,” said Mary Hale, breaking in upon what
she thought was tending toward trouble, for the
day the train de arted she had received a letter
from Buffalo Bil y, sent by his sister Jule, warn-
ing her against the man who was to be their
guide, and she felt, therefore, that there could
be no friendship between the two.

“And you’ll join our mess, Billy?” said the
judge.

“Thank you. sir; but I guess I’d better pard
in with some of the boys."

“ No; you are my guest, Billy, and you can
pay our board by keeping us in game.”

‘ right, judge,” returned the boy, and

the four sat down to supper, which they ate

with atelish that only life on the prairie can

give.
v That night'Mary Hale, when the judge and
Kent King had gone on a circuit around the
cam , said suddenly to the youth, who sat near
her reamin gazing into the log fire:

“ Billy, have you any cause to doubt Kent
Kin I”

U es.”

“Then it was not jealousy, or suspicion, that
maids; ygu write to me not to trust him?”

0

“ Will you not say more than yes and no?”

“What must I say?”

“ Tell me why you suspect Kent King.”

“Idon’t suspect him; I know him to be a—I
mean a dreadful rascal, though the other word
would have suited him best."

“ What do you know of him i”

“ He asked Jule to marry him.”

“ Billy, do you tell me the truth i" and the girl
laid her hand on his shoulder and looked square-
ly into his face.

“ Mary, I humbug the boys sometimes for
fun, for a story goes for truth mighty often out
here; but I never told you a falsehood in my
life, for you remember when we were at school
together, and I told Steve Govan if he didn't
quitdteasing you I would whip him, I kept my
wor . ’

“Indeed, you nearly killed him, Bill ; but I
am not your sweetheart now,” and s 0 cast a
sly look at the boy, who frankly answered:

“ Oh! I haven’t changed, Ma , for I am
justas dead in love as ever; but c anges have
come, for I am still a. boy, and a rough one, too,
I guess, while you are a woman, and have for-
gotten your old playmate.”

“No, no, you wrong me, Billy, for I can
never forget our school days, 01‘ how kind you
have ever been to me; but things have changed
since then, Bill y, for I am a. woman now, and I
wish to Heaven I was not, for my father wishes
me to marry Kent Kin .”

“ You’ll never do it, Elary.”

“I must! Oh! that I could escape it, but I
cannot, for father has promised him that I shall
be his wife."

“And you don’t love him, do you?”

“ No, and yet he seems to fascinate me.”

“ The same as he did Jule; it’s the snake fas-
cinating the bird, Mary; but why don’t you
give him up as J ulo did?” .

“ I dare not, Billy.”

ll Why?”

The question came bluntly, and the maiden
did not at once reply, and again he asked:

(K VV'va?”

“ I will trust you with my secret, Billy; but
after that we must not be seen together, for,
young as you are, I saw to—night that you made
gent” King jealous, and I confess that I fear

1m

“ He had better not attempt any capers, Mary,
or 1’11 make him worse than jealous; but what
were you going to tell me?”

After a moment of silence, Mary Hale said:

“Billy, I am confident that father and Kent
King have met before—that is before they

tion between them once, and, I regret to say
it, but I believe there is a secret between them,
and one which my father would not have
known, and hence the power held over him.”

“It must be very serious, Mary, for your
father to be forced to give you to a man he,
does not like; but, with this to work on, I will
keep my eye on Kent King, and, if you do not
love him, you shall not marry him; if you do,
I’ve of) nothing to say.”

“ h Billy, how good you are! Now Ifeel
brave as you are m friend, and with the train;
before this I have along had a presentiment
of coming evil.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Mary. Now good-
night, for I will take a little circuit around
camp, as we are getting into a neighborhood
where we must keep our eyes open," and shoul-
dering his rifle Buffalo Billy took his departure
from the camp-fire, and passing out through the
lines walked in the direction of a small thicket,
a short distance away.

Suddenly he came upon two persons, one of
whom he recognized as Kent King, and believ—
£11111; the other to be the Judge, he approached

em.

That he surprised the guide was evident, and
his companion he did not know, and Billy felt
certain that Kent King was playing some
game of deviltry, with the train as a founda-

tion to work upon.

CHAPTER XII.
KENT KING SHOWS HIS HAND.
STEADILY westward the train hold on its way
from sunrise to sunset. and around the camp-
fires atui ht gathered the settlers, indulging in
songs pleasant chats, until fatigued 1m ure

 

met on the border, for I overheard a conversu- v

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

Bufi‘aJo Billy, the

 

 
 

 

Boy Bullwhacker. 15

 

' urged them to Seek repose for the early morning

start.

From the day of his coming, Buffalo Billy
had been invaluable, for he was the life of the
company, the elder people admiring him greatly,
and the younger ones having him for their beau-
ideal of a brave boy-hero.

A skilled hunter, he kept every mess supplied
with ame of all kinds, and his services as a
guide out King soon found to be indispensable,
and though holding on a given course, he al-
llowed the boy to select the routes for each

ay.

Though apparently with nothing totronble
him, Billy Cody was all the time watching the
gambler closely, and the more he saw of him,
the more he was convinced that there was
something wrong brewing, and this Suspicion
was held by retty Mary Hale and the two
often talked t e matter over, of how often the
guide left the train on a pretended hunt, but
always returned without success, and then the
many secret interviews which he and the judge
held together.

One afternoon, when the train had halted
rather earlier than usual on the banks of a pleas—
ant stream, Kent King sought the “ lay—out " of
the judge, and called to Mary, who was in her

nt.

“ Well, Mr. King, how can I serve you?" she
asked quietly.

“ Sit down, Ma , for I have something to say
to you," and be p seed a camp-chair for her,
while he remained standing.

“ Mary, you know that your father has prom-
ised you to me for m wife?”

“Yes, as well as 1 now that I was not con-
sulted in the matter, Mr. Kin .”

“ Consult now your heart, ary, and give me
my answer,” he said, earnestly.

“I have but one answer, sir; I would never
marry a man I did not love.”

He started, and turning his handsome eyes
upon her said with deep feelin :

“ And you do not love me, filmy?”

“ I do not.”

“ You will change."

ti No.77

“ You must do so, for you are to be my wife,”
he said firmly.

“ Hal do you intend to force me to give my
hand where my heart cannot go with it?”

“ Yes, if you will not willineg become my
wife, you must unwillingly be made such.”

“ Never! you are insu ting, Kent King, and I
will speak to my father of your insolence,” she
said haughtily.

But the man only smiled, and after a moment

rephed.

‘lY,our father will side with me, Miss

a e. -

“And will he so far forget his self—respect
and love for his only child, as to 8 me
marry a man I now—yes, I will say it—fairly
detest?”

“Ha! ha! ha! my beauty! Your detestation
may as well turn to admiration, for your father
and myself have agreed that you are to be Mrs.
Kent King, and that right soon, as Parson
Miller is Wllllng to marry us, whenever I say
the word.

 

“Parson Miller, I have never liked, sir: but,
as a man of God, he cannot lend himself to
crime.”

“Oh no; he will simply marry a wayward
girl, at her father’s request, to a man who
loves her devotodly, and Will make her a good
husband.”

“ But 1 will cry out against this crime being
done; to all in the train will I beg for aid.”

“Bah! Your father’s will is supreme here,

irl, and no one will gainsay What he wishes
gone, and they will merely look upon your
protestations as maidenly caprice."

“ Oh, Heaven have mercy! Is there no one I
can call upon?” cried t e now thoroughly
frightened and wretched 'rl.

“ You can while Billy y’s around, Mary,”
and the boy stepped from behind the tent, and
with his rifle lying across his arm, as if by ac-
cident, but pointing s!raight at Kent King.

“ Oh Billy! my father and all have dwerted
me,” cried Mary springing toward him.

“ I’m around yet, Mary; so don’t get blue,
for, if I am a boy, I am that man’s master,”
was the cool remark of the youth, as be con-
fronted the guide.

“ Leave here. boy, or I’ll make this camp too
hot for you!” fair] shouted Kent King.

“I like it hot, ent King, so set your fire
a-goin ."

“ Billy! Billy, be careful, for he means you
no good.” warned Mary with great agitation.

“That makes us even, for it’s just what I .
mean him, if he attempts any hi h hand busi-
ness with you. I threatened to ill him about
Jule, and as Old Negotiate sa 5, I’ll bet him an
Injun against a nigger, that bury him yet.”

“Beware of threats, boy, or you’ll be left
alone here on the prairie like a wolf,” said the
guide, not daring to move, as he saw that the
boy had the drop on him with his rifle, though
apparently not intending it.

‘ And I’m Wolf enough to find my way out of
the wilderness, Kent King, and track you to
doom.”

“ Oh! here comes father! Now, Kent King,
I’ll see if you have spoken the truth, when you
say he willforce me to marry you against my
will,” and she sprung toward the judge, who
just then approached, and continued earnest-

“Father, this man says that I am tomarry
him; have you so told him 2‘”

Judge Hale certainly looked deeply worried,
for his face was pale and his brow clouded;
but after glancing at the guide he said, in a
low tone:

“ Mr. King loves you, Mary, and he is certain-
ly a man that you cannot but admire—”

“ I hate him—fear him—loathe him!”

“ Tut! tut! my child, you are sill .”

“I am sensible. Oh, father! w ?y is it you
Wish to sacrifice me to that evil man ’

“ Miss Hale is complimentary," sneered the

ide.
$11“ She knows you,” coolly said Buffalo Billy.

“ Is it a sacrifice for a young girl to
a man of means, a gentleman and one who has
done much for her father, and loves her do-
votedly?” interposed the Judge, evidently wiflt
a painful effort. , »

 
 

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“He is a gambler, an adventurer, and no
gentleman would force a girl to be his wife.”

“Don’t use dictionary terms, Mar ; he’s a
black-leg, a blacktruard and a blac -bearted
scamp," added Bu alo Billy, bringing his rifle
closer to the guide’s heart.
‘ “You and I shall have a settlement, boy,
which you won’t like.” .

“Oh, I like settlements; it’s when people
won‘t settle that bothers me.”

“ Billy, you should not anger Mr. King,” said

' the judgtit reproachfully.

“ The ing pin of rascals deserves all I can
say, judge; why, the parson couldn’t say a kind
word over the grave of such a fellow,”

"" Cody, I must insist that you do not speak

“ Then let him leave Mary alone, for I have
promised to protect her. ”

“ But I, her father, am here to do that, sir. "

“ But you don’t do it.”

“ I’ll see to that.” '

“ So will I, 'udge, for you can ’t know that man
if you want ary to marry him,” boldly persist-
ed Bufl'alo Billy. '

“I have given in promise and my daughter
must obey me, for owe to Mr. King more than
I can ever repay” and the face of Judge Hale
flushed as thong from shame at some bygone
recollection.

“ Ah! I’m one to be sacrificed, father, to square
your debt of gratitude to Mr. King for some
service he has rendered you,” remarked Mary,
with biting sarcasm.

“ The judge is ri ht. In the past—for we have
known each other or ears—it was in my power
to save him from trou le, and he appreciates it,
and knowing my character he has promised me
his daughter 3 hand, and I now say that in one
week she is to be my wife. Am I right jud e?”
and Kent King turned a. look upon the ju ge.
that seemed to force from his lips the word of
reflkfes.”

“Enough! now we understand each other,
Mary' and you, sir, shall leave this train with the
rise 0 the sun, and if you show your face in it
again while on the march, you shall be shot dowu
as would bean outlaw or an Indian.” and the
guide turned two burning eyes on Buffalo Billy,
who answered, with the most provoking impu-
dance:

“ Is that so, Gambler King 1'”

“ Try, it and you‘ll find out.”

“You are such a liar. King, I'll put you to
the test;but, let me tell on, whether I go or

stay, the night you make ary Hale your wife
I’ll make here. widow before the ‘joined togetherl
and ‘put awnder’ are cold on the person’s lips ”
and shouldering his rifle, Buflalo Billy str 9
away from the spot, directing his tops in the di-
rection of the other camp-fires.

CHAPTER XIII.

‘ rim PLOT'I‘EBS.

WHEN Bufl'alo Billy walked in among the
camp-fires, around which the emigrants were
busy preparingNtlieir evening meal, he beck-
oned to Old egotiate, who had joined the

‘ vain as teamster, to follow him, and the Irv"

soon stood together in the shadow of a clump
of box-elder bushes.

“Negotiate, old man, there’s trouble in
camp,” remarked Billy.

“ I’m bettin’ a chaw o’ terbaccy, Billy,
ag’in’ er rifle, thar is of you say so."

“I 0 say so, and more, that Kent King is
at the bottom of it.”

“I’ll negotiate liberal bets on thct, Billy
bo .”

‘5: He intends to force Mary Hale to marry
him.”

“ Not ag‘in’ her will, Billy; or I’ll bet my
bull-whip ag’in’ his scalp he don’t do it, of
I’m ’round.”

“ I knew you would say so, old man; but
he says that Parson Miller will marry them
one week from to-day.”

“ Waal he c’u‘d do it" prime at an one
c’u’d, fer he’s a Gospil sharp from
ville, nn’ he’s hot on Scriptur’.”

“But he must not do the job.”

“Wool, of you says not, boy, I’m bettin’
my pipe ag’in’ his Bible he don’t."

“ I do say so, old man.”

“ You Wouldn’t have a row with ther par-
son, Billy, or you’d lose yer chance 0’
Heavin when the Dealer above calls in yer
chips fer cashin’.’

“ I don’t want a row with the person, old
man, though I don’t like him, as I think
he is all preach and no practice; but I’ll give
him a call to the mourner’s bench if he at-
tempts to aid in wronging Ma .”

“ It’s bad luck, Billy, to kil a cat, cuss a
preacher, or strike a woman."

“When a minister or a woman forget who
or what they are, the forfeit respect.”

“ And ther cat, Bil y?”

“ Choke the catl”

“So I say, Billy; but I’ll negotiate yer
mother's ole brindle tabby a ’in’ your pony,
thet thcr parson does as ent King tells
him.”

“ So I believe, and I wish you to help me
prevent it.”

“ But how kin we, Billy?"

“Ah! I have it. King has ordered me
from camp, and if I return he says he will
kill me.”

“ Waal thet is interestin’. boy. "

“ Now at dawn Iintend to go, and, as Par-
son Miller is very fond of hunting—"

“ Yas, he’s ther best hunter I ever see, but
he don’t never find no game.”

“ Well, I’ll show him where there’s game
for I want you to ask the person to 0 on a
day’s hunt with you; then drop bac a few
miles, and I will join you-"

 I hopes yer isn’t goin’ ter call in his chips,
I y.”

 

“No, I’m no assassin. old man; but I’ll
"'i“ you and will propose a wide circuit with

harp-'-

 

 

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Buflalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhackel'.

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the person, while you are to go in another
direction and meet us at a given point; but
don‘t'you meet us.” -,

“ Waal.” .

l “ Strike for the train and report the person
ost."

“ Waal, Billy] talk clean for I is as dumb
as a mule.”

“ I’ll get lost, too, and it will take us more
than a week to find the train—”

"‘ Aha! Oh Billy, you is a boss boy; I sees,
Isces now; without a parson ther can’t be no
splicin’ in matrimony."

“You are right; we will run across some
herders going south after cattle, and I know
them all, and will get them to join, the train
with me, and then Kent King will continue
on a trip with them, and I’ll guide the party
on to Denver."

“ An’ ther jedge‘?”

“Oh! he’ll be glad to get rid of King, I
feel certain, though, for some reason, he dare
not- say so; now, old man, go back to camp,
and remember the hunt with the parsnn to-
morrow."

“ I’ll be thar, fer I’ll chin him to-night, an’
I‘ll lie so about game, he’ll pray fer mornin’
ter come; oh Lordy, Billy, what a good boy
you’ll hev ter be, while ther parson is with
ycr, fer yer‘ll hev grace over tough buff’ler
steaks that’ll make ’em tender, an’ yer’ll hev
tor say yer leetle

‘Now I lay mes‘
every night; Billy, Billy, I fear you’ll yet
tarn Gospil sharp yerself.”

“ I‘ll not be a deceitful one if I do. Now
good-night,” and Buffalo Billy separated
from Old Negotiate, and making a circuit
again reached camp, inwardly rejoicing over
his plot to capture a parson to prevent a
wedding.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
LOST AND FOUND.

TRUE to his promise, 01d Negotiate sought
Parson Miller—a long-legged, eadaverous-
faced individual, with a look as if ice-cream
would not melt in his mouth, and told him
he was going on a hunt the following morn-
ing, adding:

. “ Now, my Pard o’ Piety, ef you’d like ter
kill a buff’ler as is a bufi’ler, you jist go with
me in ther mornin‘ an’ I’ll bet yer ther buf-
f’ler yer kill ag’in’ yer horse, thet We’ll bring
back more game then we kin carry."

“Brother Negotiate, for not knowing the
Christian name given thee by thy sponsors in
baptism, I must call thee that by which thou
art known in this howling wilderness, I
will be more than glad to go hunting in the
morning, though it seemeth wrong to slay

~ the innocent buffalo and feathered fowl, tr,

 

cater to our appetites,” answered the person,
with a pious roll of his eyes.

“ Yer’d be a durned fool ef yer didn't eat,
parson; but we’ll start- early, so chin yer
pra’ers durin’ the night, so as not ter lose
time.”

And so it was arranged. that the person and
Old Negotiate should start at an early hour
on a hunt, and they were up with the dawn
and ready as the train pulled out for the
da ’5 march.

ut somehow the promised luck did not
come to them, and it was with real pleasure,
after several hours of hard riding, the pareon
suddenly cried: ’

“Why, there is Our young brother, Will-
iam Frederick Cody!”

“It’s ther boy, or I are a liar, pard—I
mean person; 1 think he rode out 0’ camp
last night, fer he bed a few words with Kent
King, I heerd.”

“ He seemeth a young brother of too high
mettle; now brother King is—"

“ A durned fool an’» a rascal,” put in
Negotiate. bluntly; and the parson rolled his,
eyes in holy horror and said, in his drawling
tones:

“ He appeareth to me like a man of
reason and piety, and I rejoiceth that he is
to marry a damsel like our sweet sister
Ma .” ,

Grid Negotiate muttered something like an
oath, and which was not at all complimen-
tary to the person, and then cried aloud, as _
Bufialo Billy came nearer, Little Gray being
in an easy gallop: ,

“ Hullo, Billy! You is the man we want,
for we can’t find no game, though ther par-
son hes prayed diligent fer a buff’lo or jack-
rabbit ter spring up.”

“ You are ofi the trail, old man, and don't
hunt right,” declared Billy, giving Little
Gray a jerk for being viciously disposed
toward the parson’s: mule, and which caused
Old Negotiate to innocently say:

“Now look at thet thar horse; he knows
like a human, person, thet you an’ yer mule
hain’t the same breed as ther rest 0’ us.
seein’ as you is a Gospil-grinder, an’ yer ani-
mile is nuther a horse or a mule; but. boy,
how w’u’d yer do of yer wanted game?”

“ Find it.”

“ Ah! than thou knowest wherethe wild
beasts of the field and birds of the air lurk-
eth and haveth their lair, my young brother?”

“I do, parson. and if you Wlll go With
me, and let Old Negotiate bear away to the
left, we’ll find all the game you can shoot."

“ I are willin’, Billy boy, an’ of we don’t:
meet on the trail ahead, we will in camp;
don’t let ther parson git hurt, boy, or ye’ll
hev no one ter bury yer when yer is called
it': but I’ll bet yer ther game I slays ag‘in’

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what yer does that I gets ther most," and
Old Negotiate waved his hand, and started
01! to the southwest, while Butl‘alo Billy and
the person bore away in a northwesterly di-
rection, the latter charmed to be hunting
with a youth whom he knew always brought
in game. .

A ride of a few miles and the keen eyes of
the youth sighted a herd of buflalo ahead,
and instantly he gave chase, followed by
Person Miller on his mule, which was cer-
tainly a very fine animal and remarkably
swift of foot.

it was a long run after the herd, but after
a while the parson was elated beyond meas-
ure by bringing down a bufialo hull with his
old musket, a relic of the war of 1812, that
kicked the shooter off his mule when he dis-
charged it, causing him to utter something
strangely like an oath as he struck term
firma, the boy thought.

To hide his laughter from the unfortunate
person, Bufialo Billy set off in chase of the
mule, and soon skillfully lassoed him and
returned him to his owner, remarking,
quietly:

“ ’l‘ 1e gun kicks as hard as the mule, par-
son.’

“ Trifle not, rash youth, with the heels of
Goliath.”

“ You bet I don’t, parson. nor with your
old blunder-buss, either; but you got your
buffalo.”

“ 1 did," and the parson surveyed the dead
animal, and at the same time rubbed his
shoulder, little dreaming that some of the
bad he s in camp had thrown into the mus-

' ket a ew extra loads when they knew its
sanctimonious owner was going on a hunt.

Having cut ofi some of the choicest parts
of the buffalo, the two mounted and started
in what the parson supposed was the direc-
tion of the trail; but soon a band of elk were
sighted. and Billy skillfully brought down
one at long range, and it furnished a supply
of 'uicy meat that the preacher devoured
wit hun ry eyes.

A coup e of turkeys, found in the bottom
land of a small creek, and a prairie chicken
killed by Billy with his revolver, satisfied the
p'rrson with the day’s sport, and again he
urged starting for the train, as night was
coming on, and with it a storm.

But darkness came on rapidly, and, seeing
that they would be caught by the storm,
Billy Cody urged that they seek refuge in a
piece of timber land, which his companion
reluctantly consented to do, and in a short
time the youth had thrown up acompara-
twelv comfortable wicky-up and built a blaz~
ing fire. _

“ Well, person, we are in for it all night,"
announced Buflalo Billy, gayly, as, having”

t .

 . ‘ . 1,. _..,’

 

lariated Little Gray and Goliath out to feed
on the juicy grass, he was seated in the
wrcky-up cooking their supper, the parson
looking dolcfully on. ,

“ 1t seemeth so, my young friend; but thy
skill hath made a famous retreat for us, and
the scent of these viands our hunters' craft
hath provided, will not ma {c it unpleasant,
unless the red-men of the forest should come
upon us uuawares like a wolf in the night.”

“ Oh, Little Gray is as good as a watch-
dog, and can smell nu lnjun half a mile; be-
sides, tlicyll lay low a night like this; but
come, pal-son, here is a butfalo~steak for you,
and just see how this turkey is cooked, so
pitch in, for the smell of this coflcc makes
me hungry.”

The parson needed no second invitation,
but quickly said grace and “pitched in”'
with a gusto that would have driven a dys-
peptic mad with envy.

By the time the supper was finished the
storm broke in fury upon them, driving Lit-
tle Gray and Goliath, who had made friends,
to the lee of the wicky-up for shelter, and
causing the person and Billy to wrap them-
selves snugly in their blankets and seek rest.

With the dawn they awoke, ate breakfast,
and started, as the person supposed, for the
train, but really were going far from it, as
Buffalo Billy was determined to prevent the
marriage of Marry Hale to Kent King; but
when night again overtook them and no
white tilts came in View, the man grew
gloomy as the boy grew jubilant, and once/
more they went into camp.

And thus it continued for a week. when
one afternoon they sighted afar off a line of
“ prairie schooners," and the parson gave a
loud shout of joy, while Billy’s face he-
came clouded, and he muttered:

“Can Kent King have changed his course?
No, it is impossible for them to be ’Wayup
here, and that is another train.”

And upon overtaking the wagons they
found them to belong to Russell, Majors and
Waddell’s train, bound to Fort Laramie with
supplies, and in them were many hunters,
teamsters and bullwhackers who knew Buf-
falo Billy well, and he was greeted with a.
ringing shout as he rode up, while the train-
boss cried out;

“ Got yer whip, my boss boy bullwhacker,
fer yer kin git a job right here?“

“No, Mr. Simpson; I'm on another lead
just now; but the parsou and myself will
keep company with you for a day or two.”

“As long as yer please, Billy," and he
added in a low tone, “ what in the name 0’
thunder is yer running double with a Gospil
sharp fer? Parson. yer say? Waal, he looks
as cheerful as a corpse at a wake; but of he's
your friend, boy pztrd, I’m as glad ter see

W “4,”;

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 _ “what

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

  

Bufialo Billy, the

 
   

B 3y Bullwhacker. 1 9

 

him as though I’d run a nail in my foot, an’
of he‘ll sling us a lectle gospil ter,night, with
a Psalm throwed in, we’ll pass round ther
hat for him, as ther Doxology biz hain’t as
good as bullwhackin’.”

Bufialo Billy laughed, as he asked:

“Any news, Mr. Simpson, from Kansas
City?”

“Nary news, an’ we’ve come along quiet.
’ceptin' ther killin’ 0’ two fellers who j’ined
us, an’ was goin’ out with our bull-train, un-
til they struck somethin’ bound fer Denver,
whar they was goin’ to minin’ ag’in, for
they'd struck it rich in silver, an’ hed been
East on a rackit ter see ther old folks; and
now, as I live, they said you hed run ‘em
through on ther trail east.”

“Well, where are they?” asked Billy Cody
quickly, and with some excitement.

“ Passed in, Billy.”

“Dead?”

“They be, indeed!”

“And their names, Mr. Simpson?”

"Lordyl how am I ter know, boy? They
corned at grubvtime when yer called ’em
Ned Oaks an’ Jack Cole, but they might
be knowed under other handles when at
home.”

“And how did they die?” asked the boy,
in a low tone.

“Kilt; one was shot on guard one night
by some sneakin’ Injuns, and t’other follered
soon arter."

“Did you see the Injuns?”

“We seen one hoverin’ around fer a day
or two afore he got his work in.”

“Anybody else in the train killed?"

“ Nary; .an" it were hard on ther two
pards."

“Yes; hard indeed.” responded the boy,
while to himself he added:

“Ned Oaks and Jack Cole gone tool Well,
that makes sic of the thirteen dea .”

CHAPTER XV.
THE 'rsxss HERDERS.

“ INJUNSl Injuns!"

“No, they is Road Agints!"

" You are all wrong, boys; they are herd-
ers, for I recognize Prairie Pete.”

The last speaker was Buffalo Billy, and
the others were members of the wagon train,
or bull outfit, as it was usually called, which
the youth and the parson had joined some
days before, the latter contented to be out of
danger, but discontented at being forced to
remain away from the Kent King arty.

The train had just gone into on 'p for the
night, when over a divide far away appeared
a band of horsemen, at the head of whom
Billy Cody recognized an old man whose
Constant avoidance of the settlements, and
continued life on the plains, had gained for

 

 

him the name of Prairie Pete, which was
sometimes varied to Prairie Pilot. as he was
always on hand to guide trains when at fault.
and knew the country from Leavenworth to
the Rocky Mountains as well as he did his
own little ranch on the Republican.

As he came nearer, riding a wiry mustang
that showed both good staying qualities and
speed, it was noticed that he was dressed in
buckskin, was as brown as an Indian. pos~
sessed a face upon which beard would not
grow, and had iron-gray hair that fell below
his shoulders.

Ilis eyes were black, piercing, and never
quiet, and his small but tough frame was
never still, while he had ahabit of keeping
his hand constantly toying with the hill; of a
large revolver he wore on his ri rht hip, and
it. was a. bad habit which ha frequently
served him a good turn.

Behind this specimen of the real prairie
man rode about thirty dashin , wild-looking
fellows, all superbly mounte and attired in
a suit half-Mexican, half—buckskin, and wear-
ing in their belts three large revolvers and a
knife, and carrying no rifles, if I except one
or two of the party.

They Were a band of Texas herders, or
cowboys, returning home after driving a.
large herd of cattle to the rancheros of the
North, and Prairie Pete was their uide.

They were superb riders, earrie a revol-
ver in each boot, besides those in their belts,
wore sombreros encircled by gold cords and
with the “ lone star ” embroidered on the
rim, and at close quarters were a terror to
meet, and were avoided, rather than sought
after, by Indians. '

Their horses were as fleet as the wind, and
trained to perfection, while their riders could
throw a lasso with marvelous dexterit , and
shoot better with a revolver than coul most
men with a rifle.

Their leader was a dz'stt‘ngue young man of
twenty-five, with dark-blue eyes and Ion
lashes that a woman would have been pron
of, and the form of an Adonis, but with mar-
velous strength, a nerve of iron and the
courage of a lion.

“ Hullo, Prairie Pete, how are you?” cried
Buffalo Billy, stepping forward and greeting
the old man, who threw himself from his
horse, and, grasping the b0 ’5 hands, cried:

“Ding dong my cats, illy, In), as glad
ter see yer as though I’d notched ther
measles! Put it thar, eetle pard, for you is
ther dog-durnedest, ding dongedest, con——”

“ Don‘t swear, Pete, for there’s a par-son
along,” warned Billy, with a sly wink.

“ Suff’rin‘ Moses! A person, are ‘lnr out-
an'-outer rinder o' a Gospil mill, Bi 1y?" de—
manded t e old man in a whisper.

“' Yes, a perfect stunner to pray, and."

  

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20 3111an Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker.

 

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“Billy, one 0’ our boys hes been hooked
by a steer, an’ another hes been kicked by a
mule, an' the suffers onmarciful; hes yer
parson anything in his book 0' pra’er to suit
them cases?"

“Oh, he can pray from creation to judg-
ment, Pete; but come, let me introduee you
to Lew Simpson. the train boss, and—”

“Hold on! Let me incherdoose you to
ther cattle boys I is guidin’ southward, an’
they is terrors clean through, but as fine a
set as sun ever shone on."

“I think I have met Billy Cody before,
two seasons ago. when he was buliwhackin
with Wild Bill Hikok on the Platte,” ant
the handsome leader of the cowboys stepped
forward.

“Yes, Captain Dash, I was in Cheyenne
when you killed the two gamblers. when
they bounced you for exposing their cheating
an old traveler.”

“Ah, yes. I recall the affair now, and how
you kept their pard from killing me with a
shot in the back. Grasp hands, Billy, and
you’ll find the grip of Dash of Texas is
square to friend or foe, but why have you
left Wild Bill?”

“Oh, he sent me with a silver train, as
guide to Leavenworth, and Iwas working
west again with an emigrant train, but got
lost with the parson there, and run on Simp-
son’s train."

“ You got lost, Billy? What fer?" asked
Prairie Pete.

Buffalo Billy gave the old man a wink to
keep quiet, and then turned and introduced
the new-comers to Simpson and the person,
who just then came up. i

The herders were of course made welcome,
and that night around the camp-fire they
made the evening fly away, with their merry
songs and side-splitting stories, to all of
which the arson listened with holy horror
in his face at laughter in his heart.

As there was a possibility of the herders
crossing the southern trail, followed by the
Hale train, at about the time they would
meet them, Buffalo Billy, after'a talk with
Prairie Pete and Captain Dash, decided that

~ he and the parson would accompany them on
their way.

Accordingly, the part set forth at sunrise
the following morning, rairie Pete selecting
Parson Miller as his special pard, and Billy
ridin with the young Texas leader, who
said, in a determined tone, ere they had rid-
den an hour on their way:

“ Billy, cheer up, for ’11 help you through
ifI have to hang Kent King, excommuni-
cate the parson, and marry the girl myself.”

A “ I’m more than willing, captain, for

older than I am; she’d be :1 grandmother to
me when I got about fortv; so take her, if
she will love you; only I don‘t want her to
marry a ‘ villain and heartless devil.’ ”

CHAPTER XVI.
A SURPRISE.

THE non-appearance of Parson Miller,
when evening came and the train had gone
into camp, caused some apprehension, when
it was found, through Old Negotiate’s re-
turn, that he had gone with Bufialo Billy,
the news of the boy's exile having leaked
out.

As for Kent King he was savage upon the
subject, and two whole days the train was
camped, while horsemen scoured the coun-
try in the search of the missing parson and
boy, the guide swearing vengeance against
Billy when he caught him, for he knew that
he had been outwitted by his youthful foe.

As the storm had obliterated their trail,
the hunt had to be given up, and the train
continued on its way, Kent King morose and
savage in humor at the ruse cleverly played
upon him.

Though he had questioned Old Negotiate
closely, that innocent worthy could give him
no satisfaction regarding the affair; but to
Mary he made known the truth and she
thanked Billy Cody in her heart for this
proof of his true friendship.

And thus the week given her asalimit
passed away, and even the judge seemed to
rejoice in the absence of the parson, but to
soothe the guide‘s feelings, promised him
that Mar should marry him as soon as they
reached enver. -

Thus ten days passed away, and one even-
ing the train ulled into one of the most de-
lightful cam ing-grounds they had struck
on the whole march, and it was decided to
pause there for a few days to rest the people
and the cattle, and to patch up the harness
and mend wagons. ~

The first day of rest was a busy one in
camp; but the second one a grand hunt was
organized, on which both Kent King and the
guiige went for the sport, as game was plenti-
u .

 

Toward the afternoon Mary Hale, who
was seated on the edge of the timber, gazing
dreamin out over the prairie, sighted a band
of horsemen coming, and instantly reported
it to Old Negotiate who was near.

“ It are ther boss boy, miss; it are him fer
a fact; if it hain't, I gi’n yer my bullwhip
fer yer watch an' chain."

“Do you mean it is Billy Cody?"

“ Yas, miss; it’s Billy, the Boy Bullwhack-
er, an’ a boss one too. fer he can make it

 

though I admit I am sweet on the girl, it
don‘t cause me to lose my health, and she‘s

crack same as a regimint fightin' lnjnus; an’
he isn‘t alone, nuther,”

/

. if“,

 

 

n

Bull'an Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker.

21'

 

.—

“No, so I see. Oh! I recognize him now,
and there is the parson, too, and one, two,
three. yes thirty-one horsemen with them."

“Yes, miss. they is herders from Texas,
an’ they is a gay lot; full 0’ fun, full 0’ fight
when r‘iled, an‘ hes hearts as big as Texas
steers. I guesses ther boy hes got ’em ter
come inter camp with him, fer ter see ef
Kent King are Willin’ ter keep his promise
ter kill him.”

“Oh! no, no, for there will be trouble,”
cried Mary, turning pale with dread of com-
ing evil.

“Guess not, miss, ef yer wants ter save a
row, jist knock a man down; them is wis-
dom words, miss, fer, yer see, some fellers
talks fearful, but don‘t fight, an’ ther men
that means biz from ther jump, saves trouble
an’ heaps o’tongue—lashin’, as yer must re-
member, leetle gal, of yer wants ter go
through life quiet.”

They are a dashinglooking set of men,”
declared Mary, admiringly.

“Yes, miss, it are Captain Dash an’ his
Texas. Herders, as I see now.”

“ I have heard of him as a very daring and
handsome man.”

“I-Ieare both; he‘ll fight for a Chinee
heathen miss, or ther under dog in a rumpus,
an’ they do say as he gives all his ’onest ’ar~
nin’s at keerds ter poor hunters an’ boys as is
sick, while he’ll tackle a buzz saw ef it in-
sulted him.”

“He’s a snake for out-Injunin’ Injuns,
kin cut ther ashes ofl a cigar with his revol~
ver, throws a knife ter dead center, kin
lasso ther tail 0’ a wasp an’ jerk out ther
sting w1thout hurtin’ ther bizziness eeud 0’
ther reptile, an‘ is a reg’lar screamer from
Screamerville.”

“He certainly is a marvelous man, Nego-
tiate; but who is it that is riding with the
person ‘2”

“Thet man are a character, miss; he’s
Prairie Pete o‘ ther plains: tough as hickory,
old as Methuselim. an’ a trailer as kin find a
coyote track in ther trail 0’ a herd 0’ cattle.
Oh, I'll negotiate he could strike ther par-
son’s trail in a sarmon an’ foller him clean
through from Genesis ter Revelation.”

Mary laughed at the words of Old Nego-
tiate, as she answered: ‘

“Well. we will soon know what is to hap-
pen, for Billy has not come back without a
motive.”

“ No, miss: ef ’sociatin' with ther person
hasn’t made him tenderfooted in ther heart,
ther‘ will be music in ther air, an’ I’ll nego-
tiate thet—”

“ Hullo, old man 1” called out Buffalo
Billy, suddenly riding up, with Captain Dash
by his side.

“ I are here, Billy boy."

I:

“ So I see; and Miss Mary, tool In spite
of being exiled, Mary, I have come back,
and with me my friend, Captain Dash, of the
Texas Herders.”

Mary Hale glanced into the dark-blue
eyes of the Texan, and bowed low in ac-
knowledgment of what Billy had intended
for an introduction, after which she nodded
coldly to the person, who said, in his dismal
tones:

“I am glad to return to the train, Miss
Hale, for In young brother lost us on
the wild prairies, and we are foot-sore and
weary.”

“ You hes been ridin’, not walkin’, parson,
an‘ I don’t see what made yer feet sore,” put
in Old Negotiate, while the maiden invited
Buffalo Billy and Captain Dash to her camp
as guests, and the‘others were led away to
have their comfort looked after by the person
and the teamster.

CHAPTER XVII.
THE GUIDE AND THE HERDEB.

WHEN Mary and her two guests, Billy
Cody and Captain Dash, reached the roman-
tic spot. selected by the maiden as a camp-
ing-ground, they seated themselves before
the tent, and Billy had just begun a funny
account of his, experience with the parson,
when into the timber dashed Kent King, fol-
lowed by Judge Hale, while afar ofl were
heard the shouts of the returning hunters,
who had been most successful.

At a glance Kent King saw Bufialo Billy
had disregarded his threat and orders, and
his face grew dark with rage, as he threw
himself from his horse and, not noticing the
Texan, cried angrily, as he advanced upon
the youth:

“ You here, sirl By heaven you shall me
it.” '

Bufialo Billy laughed in an ironical, irrita-
ting wa , but made no effort to draw a wea-
pon, an , unheeding the cry of the judge to
let the boy alone, the guide had stretched
forth his hand to seize him by the throat,
when his arm was grasped as though in an
iron vise, and a revolver muzzle was pressed
against his temple, as, in a stern, command-
ing tone, Captain Dash said: '

“ Holdl if you want a quarrel try me on!"

Kent King was a man of great physical
strength, a dead shot, and one who was gen—
erally feared; but in the clutch of the Tex-
an be felt that he had met his master, and he
turned his glaring eyes upon him, and asked
sava ely: .

“ nd who thedevil are you, Sir?"

“Captain Dash of Texas, and talking
sound sense. Kenton Kingsland.”

“ Ha! you know me then?" and a leek of

 

'pallor spread over the face of the guide.

 

‘2
i

W

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.amm. W , mewa-  rm...”

7:12 :rg.

as ' sun'an Billy, the

"was. -..km.......,,.....,...«.. .ywu.” m 4.7-. r .. r ..

Boy Bullwhacker.

 

“ As well as you will one day know Dud-
ley Dashwood.” was the quiet reply; but it
brou ht to the guide’s lips the words:

“ 00d God! and you are Dudley Dash-
Wood ‘2”

“ I am, and well met at last, with one
whom I have a wrong to avenge.”

“Ho! judge, boys, ho! here all of you!”
suddenly cried Kent King in ringing tones,
and answering cries came from diflerent
parts of the camp.

With a light laugh, Captain Dash said:

“Billy, clip this wolf‘s claWsl Now, sir,
stand there until the help you have called
arrives,” and he hurled the guide from him,
gslBufialo Billy drew his weapons from his

e t.

“Fool! do you think because two of you
have disarmed me, there are not friends
near?” hissed Kent King.

“ I have pards near. too,” and putting his
hands to his lips, the Texan gave a piercing,
prolonged battle-cry that brought forth thirty
ringing echoes from different parts of the
timber, and at once running men appeared
coming toward the scene.

“ Oh, father! how will all this end?” cried
Mary, now thoroughly alarmed; and, hear-
ing her words, the Texan answered pleas-
antly:

“ Oh, do not fear, Miss Hale, for there will
be no trouble.”

A moment after four-score men were on
the spot, and instinctively they had ranged
themselves in two lines, the train men ac-
ing the Texans, and all with their hands
resting upon their weapons.

“So, sir, you have come into my camp
with your band of outlaws, to carr things
as you please?” cried Kent King, a dressing
Captain Dash, and at the same'time falling
back toward his own line.

“I was invited here, and would not abuse
hospitalit , had you not attempted to kill
my pard gilly Cody; but as you have begun
the alfair I will end it, and I make no idle
threats, Kenton Kingsland.”

There was something in the manner and
words of the Texan that caused the thinking
men of the train to feel that the afiair was
only a quarrel berween the guide and Cap-
tain Dash, and they cared not to mix in, es-
pecially as the determined, almost indifferent
bearing of the herders showed that they
would be the ugliest of antagonists in a
fight

“ I will have you hurled out of my camp,
you aceursed Texas bravo,” exclaimed the
guide, savagely; and the person, who had
sided with the Texans, at this bold assertion,
crossed over to the train men.

“ You will do no such thin , for did you
fire on me, my boys, you wel know, would

not ylet you and your backers live one min-
ute. ’

The person at once crossed back to the
Texans.

“Men, this man isaTexas outlaw! Come,
let us kill him and his band!” shouted Kent
King, and a few of the reckless spirits, as
the train men were in excress of the Texans,
made a movement, as though to follow their
guide‘s lead, and the person, to be on the
safe side under all cireumstanees, now imme-
diately reerossed to the train line.

“ llold! men, we want no bloodshed here,
nor will I have any. That man I have good
cause of quarrel against, and if he is not a
coward he will meet me, and save all trouble;
if not, I will give him a trip to Texas, where
he is wanted just now,” announced Captain
Dash.

“You is chinnin’ sacred music. paid, for
we doesn‘t want no trouble, With Wimmin
and children around; ther Texans an’ us has
no call for a row," put in Old Negotiate.

“ We doesn’t want none, nuther; speak
up, parson, an’ pour ile on ther troubled
waters. Oh, Lordy! I has rid so long with
ther Gospel sharp, I kin 'ist sling Scripture
like a deacon!" assured ’rairie Pete, while
Judge Hale stepped forward and in his quiet
way, remarked:

" My friends, it is our duty to uphold our
guide, unless, as is usual upon the border
here, he accepts the challenge of this Texan.”

“I accept no challenge to fight the brave.
and I will give him and his band of cut-
throats just five minutes to leave this camp,”
cried Kent King, gaining courage, as he saw
that there was a desire to sustain him, and to
save himself he cared not how many others
were sacrificed.

Before Captain Dash could reply, Buffalo
Billy ste ped between the two lines and said,
pleasant y:

“Pards, let me settle this trouble, for I
think 1 can. That man, Kent King—”

“ IIold! do not listen to his lies, for 1—”,

“Let us hear Billy, Mr. King; then you
kin hev your say,” interrupted» a teamster,
firmly, and there were a number of voices
that called out:

“ Talk it out, Billy!”

“ Let us hear ther boy!”

‘f Thank you, pards! Well. Kent King
got very sweet on my sister Jule, and know-
ing what he was I overtook him on the road
and we had a talk together, and I made him
say he wouldn’t visit her any more, and then

I started to ride away, when he turned and ’

fired upon me—here’s the scar—and falling
from my horse stunned, he believed me dead
and rode away.”

“ All! ther cussed Wolf,” said Prairie Pete. _,

 

"He is worse, for he would new force

./-_

 an m A

,l
7
.4

 

 

Bnfi'alo Billy, the

Boy Bullwhacker. 23

 

Mary Hale to marry him, and her father, for
some reason, dare not refuse; but to prevent
it, I got the person lost—”

A burst of laughter here interrupted Billy,
while Parson Miller seen-led daggers at him,
now knowing how cleverly he had been taken
in. ,

“ As soon as I got good backers I returned
to camp, determined to prevent the marriage
of Mary to Kent King, and I tell you frank-
ly. his life will he the forfeit if he carries on
his high hand here, for this is Captain Dash
of Texas, of whom you have all heard."

That the words of Builalo Billy had made
a deep impression on the train men was
evident, for Mary Hale was beloved by all,
and a low murmur against Kent King ran
through the crowd, which was suddenly
checked, as Captain Dash leveled a revolver
at the guide and said. sternly:

“ Move one inch, Kenton Kingsland, and I
will kill you."

The guide glared upon him, but he loved
life, and knew his life would be the forfeit if
he stirred, while he said in a tone not wholly
firm?

“ Men, will you put up with this outrage
to your guide?”

“They musti “Vere you worth fighting
for, as true men they would uphold you;
but, as it is, you are my prisoner and shall

0 with me to Texas.” .

“Judge Hale, do you utter no protest?”
cried Kent King, now feeling that he was
entrapped and fearing, from some cause, to
return to Texas.

“ What can I say, King?” almost whined
the judge, who was as pale as death.

“Cowardi I will expose you, at any rate;"
and raising his voice he said in a loud tone:

“Men, this coward here who will not aid
me now, was once—”

But a form suddenl dashed forward, and
with a telling blow nil in the face Bufialo
Billy felled the guide to the ground.

All were startled by the sudden act, and
Captain Dash said sternly:

“ Hold! Billy] This man was my prisoner."

“ I care not; he shall not out of mean re-
venge, make known the secret of his power
over Judge Hale,” was the spirited response.

“You are ri ht, Billy; he shall not,”an-
swered Captain ash. .

“ Yes, the boy’s right.”

' ” He’s a daisy on wheels.”

"Bully for Billy Buffalo, the Boss Boy
Bullwhacker!” and other cries arose, while
Judge Hale gave the youth a look of grati-
tude he never forgot.

“Brazos Bob, try your fancy knots on a
lariat around this gentleman. and for fear he

,may tell a lie, and thereby fail to emulate

the immortal father of his country, gag him,”

commanded Captain Dash, and a. tall Texan
stepped forward and quickly bound and
gagged the now thoroughly-subdued guide,
in whose favor only the parson now raised a
faint remonstrance, which 01d Negotiate cut
short by the warning remark:

“Better not let them Texas devils hear
yer, parson, or yer‘ll go on a journe with
’em, an’ they might lose yer in that taked
Plain.”

“ Heaven forbid!”

“I’ll negotiate my ole coon-skin cap ag'in’
yer scalp, they will.”

“Verily, my brother, thou art Job’s com-
forter; butIl say no more, for the wicked
should be punished, and it may be a. dispen-
sation of Providence that the guide is thu
nipped off in the noonday of youth; yea,
verily.”

The sudden capture of the guide cast a
restraint and also a gloom over the encamp-
ment, though Kent King had never'been
liked in the train.

Feeling this moody humor, the Texans, in
their light—hearted way, get around the camp-
fires. and with their really fine voices raised
in merry song, drove away the blues from
all, except Kent King, who lay bound in
a tent with Brazos Bob keeping guard over
him.

At the camp of the ’udge were gathered
Mary, CaptainDash and Bufl’alo Bllly, and
the Texan was entertaining the maiden
with some thrilling stories of the wild life
he led.

At length Judge Hale approached and
called Bufi'alo Billy aside, and the two
walked over to a fire around which some of
the principal train men were assembled,
evidently engaged in conversation upon some
urgent matter, in which the boy held a. con-
spicuous part.

CHAPTER XVIII.
BUFFALO BILLY’s LUCK.

“ BOY, we has sent fer yer ter catechise ya
on various sub'ects," said a gra -haired emi-
grant. who ha been steadily allowing the
“star of empire ” Westward for forty years,
having first emigrated from Vermont to Ken-
tucky, and “ squatted;” from there to Leav—
enworth, which place he had 'ust taken a
“ new departure " from to settle In Colorado.

“Well, Mr. Bent, I am ready to answer ‘
any question I can.”

“ Hang ther Mister, boy: call me Silas
Bent, fer thet’s my handle—Silas Bent,
Esquire, fer I were a squire in old Kentucky
twenty~tive year ago. Now, jedge, you
catechise ther youngster."

“We wish to know, Billy, if you know

 

 

the country between here and‘Denver ?” asked I
the judge.

.‘ “D
MM: u ——~T,.-.-. V

 

 

24 Buffalo Billy, the'Boy Bullwhacker.

 

" I do, sir.”

“ And can guide this train there?"

“As easily as I Could go from your old
home, judge, to my mother’s.”

“ So I thought.”

v “You hain’t tootin’ yer horn too loud, is
yer, boy?" asked Silas Bent, Esquire.

“No, squire, I let others blow for me."

“ Waal. thar is plenty as keeps up a devil
of a blowin‘ ’bout yer in this hour camp, an’
don't ye forgit it, Billy, boy; but go on with
yer catechis, jedge."

“ Well, Billy, we’ve talked the matter over
among ourselves, and there is no fault to find
with you, though some do not like the way
you treated Parson Miller.”

- “ Why. judge, I treated him prime; I’d
run a buffalo down and then lasso and hold
him until the parson came up on Goliath and
slew him. Then I did the cooking, built our

v wicky-ups, saddled his mule for him, and—”

“ What did ther parson do, Billy?” asked
the squire.

“Eat, drink, sleep, snore and pray.”

“Waal, he did work hard, for I hes seen
him feed, an’ I has heard him sleep.”

5‘ And heard him pray, too. eh, squire?"

" No, jedge, on] once. I levants when
he ras’les Scriptur, for I is gittin’ old, an’
life’s too short to listen to ther parson pray.
No, I hasn’t time, jedge."

“ Well, let us settle this matter with Billy.
What do you say, my boy, to becomingr our
guide in the p ace of King, whom these

exans swear they will take away with them?
We will give you, say, three hundred for
pulling us into Denver.”

“I care little for the money, judge, but
I’ll be your guide with pleasure; for, though
Idon’t want to speak ill of a man in bad
luck, I tell you Kent King was heading into
a countr Where road-agents are mighty
thick, an are allies with Injuns, and if he
isn’t a renegade, then I mistake him.”

“Ef we thought thet, Billy, we’d lynch
him right heur," said a teamster.

"No, let him alone, for Captain Dash has
an account to settle with him, and he won’t
bother us any more,” answered Billy.

" So be it. Now, Billy, you is our guide;
but don’t lose ther parson ag’in.”

“ I‘ll have no cause, squire,” said BuiIalo
Billy, with a boyish laugh, and he turned
away with the judge. who asked him to ac-
company him to his camp.

So wrapped up was Mary in the conversa.
tion of the dashing Texan, that she failed to
hear the approach of her father and Billy,
and turned crimson when the latter said:

" The arson generally talks Mary to sleep,
captain; {ent King made her mad, but it
looks as if on were pouring honey in her
car, she smiles so sweet.” ‘ .

I i if

v
.-—.: .)'r .

 

“ Oh, Billy, don’t be silly!”

"Why, Mary, it makes you poetical, tool
The Prairie Poetess we‘ll have to call you.”

“ Don‘t call him Billy now, Mary, for he’s
our uide.”

“ ur guide? Indeed! allow me to offer
my congratulations, Billy—I mean Captain
Cody!” said the gay girl grasping his hand
warmly.

“Accept my good wishes, too, Billy; and,
judge, allow me to say that, boy though
Cody is, there is no better guide on this bor-
der, and his pluck I have seen tried; but I
must say good-night, for we make an early
start.”

“And Kent King, sir; may I ask your in
tention regarding him?" queried the judge in
a tremulous tone.

“Oh! I’ll take him to Texas and be guided
by circumstances as to what I will do With
him.”

“ You will not kill him?" eagerly asked
the ‘udge.

“ hat depends upon whether I turn him
over to the authorities there, who want him
for crimes he has committed, and which will
ban" him; but good-night.”

“ o, captain, before you go sing for Miss
Mary my favorite son . Here is her guitar,
and I know you play, ' pleaded Buffalo Bil<
ly, taking up the instrument and handing it
to the Texan, while Mary urged:

“ Yes, captain; please do!"

Running his fingers with the skill of a
master over the strings, the Texan broke
forth into a song, one of Moore’s Melodies:

“ Believe me if all these endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly tovday,

Were to fade b to-morrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy Ki ts fading away—

Thou would'st still be adored, as this moment thou

art.
Let thy l vvelincss fade as it will: ,
And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart,
Would entwine itself fervently still."

His clear, pathetic tenor voice arose on the
air in sweetest melody. Every sound in the
encampment was hushed, while grim men
and wearied women breathlessly listened.

“ Another verse! please,” pleaded Mary,
and so he continued to the end-of the beau-
tiful poem, and, with a pleasant ‘ ‘ good—
night, ' arose and strode away, accompanied
by Captain Billy.

But the spell he left behind him remained
unbroken, and down deep in the heart of
Mary Hale sunk the first strong love of her
womanhood, and she dropped to sleep that
night with the name of the handsome Texan
upon her lips.

CHAPTER XIX.
A CONFESSION. AND A SECRET OVERHEARD.
THE night in the train encampment passed
slowly away, especially to the prisoner, who

 
  

 
   

  
 
  
  

  

A answered softly:

 

finfi'aio Billy, the Boy fifllwhacker. 25

 

could only conjecture what his fate might be
now that he was in the hands of a man whom
he had bitterly wronged in the past—yes,
bitterly wronged indeed. for a wolf in lamb’s
clothing he had won the love of Dudley
Dashwood’s sister, to in the end cruelly
desert her, and drive her to take her own life.

Returning home, after a longabsence, Cap-
tain Dash, as he was known in Texas to the
herders had sworn vengeance against Kenton
Kingsland, and long wished to meet him,
andh at last Fate had thrown him across his
pat . ’

With the dawn of day the camp began
to wake up, and soon all was bustle and
work, for the train was to pull out that
morning to go once more on the march west-
ward, while the Texas Herders were to keep
on their way southward.

By invitation of the judge Captain Dash
breakfasted at the Headquarters, as Judge
Hale’s camp was called, as did also Buffalo
Billy, and the Texan thought he never saw a
more beautiful girl, than looked Mary in her
dark blue riding habit and slouch hat, which
she had donned. intending to pass the day in
the saddle as was often her wont.

After breakfast the. judge and Billy went
among the wagons, to superintend their get-
ting off, leavmg the Texan alone with Mary.

For a moment neither spoke, and then the
maiden said:

“ Do you ever expect to visit Denver, Cap-
tain Dash?”

Instantly he faced toward her, and an-
swered in his frank way: _

“ That depends wholly upon you, Miss
Hale."

“ Upon me .9" and she arched her eyebrows
in surprise.

“ Yes, for I know of nothing else to call
me to the vicinity of Denver, but to visit you.
I am a frank man, Miss Hale, and it doesn’t
take me long to love or hate any one, and
I’m honest enough to confess to you that
you have wrapped yourself so entirely around
my heart, that your face will ever be before
me.

“I know not whether I am making this
confession to one already mortgaged to an-
other, and I care not; but certain it is that
1 am coming to Denver one day to ask you
to be m wife, and, be your answer yes or
no, you ll ever find Dudley Dashwood your
friend.”

He held out his hand as he spoke, and
unhesitatingly she placed hers in it, as she

“Come to Colorado to see us.”
“ I will. Good-by, and don’t feel anxious
on the trail, for Billyl Cody is a boy in a

He pressed the hand, again said good-by,
and started for the tent where Kent King lay
a prisoner.

As he approached, he heard the voice of
Judge Hale say pleadingly:

“ I certainly did all that I could, Kenton;
but I was powerless, and I beg you not to
add more grief to my sorrows and tell of my
past act.”

Captain Dash frowned; he scorned to be
eavesdropper, and coughed so as to give
warning of his approach; but neither the

then came Kent King’s reply, in a deter-
mined, triumphant tone:

“Ay, Judge Hale, I will tell all of your
wickedness-tell how you were left the sole
guardian of my wealth, and, because my
high temper caused me to take life and be
sent to prison for it, you squandered in spec-
ulation my fortune-” .

“ I believed I could double it. Kenton.”

“Bah! you may say so, but I believe you
spent it in riotous living, old man—“

“ No, no, Kenton, 1—”

“Keep silent and hear me! When at last
I escaped from prison and you read of. it,
expecting a visit from me, you fled with
Mary to this wild border, forgetting that, as
an escaped convict, here would be the most
likely place for me to come.

“ No, no, Andrew Hale; had you kept
faith with me regarding Mary, she would
now have been my wife; but as you did not,
I will denounce you—”

“ Save yourself the trouble, Kenton Kings-
land, for I know the power you hold over
this old man, and if you breathe one word of
the secret to any one, I swear, by heaven! I
will tie you to the back of a horse, and turn
him adrift upon the prairie for the wolves to
run down, and feed upon your dainty flesh,”
and in the opening of the tent stood Captain
Dash, the Texan.

At his words, Kent King turned pallid‘“ as
a corpse, and Judge Hale trembled; but, al-
lowing no reply, the Texan called out to one
of his men to bring the gnide‘s horse, and a.
moment after, with burning eyes, white face
and set teeth the prisoner was in his saddle.
his feet bound securely on each side to the
iron rings, in the horse-hair girth.

Placing a bugle to his lips, Captain Dash
blew a call for his men, and soon after the
Herders wound out of camp. their leader at
their head, and Kent King riding by his side
w’ile Mary Hale and her father stood gazing
after them, with strangely different emotions
filling their breasts, for the judge said half.
aloud:

 

thousand, and will pu the train through all
right.”

,4;

 

treated me most kindly; he is a noblefel-
, ow.” .

___'.,.Q

judge nor the prisoner seemed to hear it, and ,

1

“ He overheard the secret against me, and ,

   

mm;

‘--r«r.¢$:s:=afiz:rzznarz

a

 

26 . Bufialo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker.

 

And Mary‘s thoughts were:

“Well, he falls in love like aMexiean;
but I hope he won’t fall out as quickly, for.
if 1 keep on admiring him for a year in the
same ratio I have in a night, I’ll be what
Billy calls dead gone. Ah me, I hope all
‘will come right in the endl"

Ten minutes after she was heading the
train with Buffalo Billy by her side, and
fully appreciating his responsible position of
guide.

 

CHAPTER 'XX.
THE DEATH-LIST INCREASES.

SEVERAL days after the parting of the
Herders with the Hale train, Buffalo Billy

' was riding acouple of miles in advance, look-

ing for a good camping-ground for the night,
when he espied a motte in the distance, and
running from it on either side a line of cot—
onwoods, that told him that a stream was
near.

Toward this he headed, and riding into the
cool shade of the timber, he was suddenly
surprised, and considerably startled by a
ringing laugh._

It was not a joyous laugh, but one that
seemed almost demomacal, and it came from
the thicker growth of timber bordering the
banks of a limpid stream.

Cautiously he approached the spot from
whence came the sound, even Little Gray im-
pressed by the strange laughter, and Billy
half-tempted to believe it came from some
supernatural source, for plainsmen, like
sailors, are more or less superstitious.

Nearer and nearer he drew, the laughter
now ringing wildly out, and then dying
away into low moans, and presently, through
an opening in the trees, he beheld a human
form, and then another and another.

Two men prone upon the ground, and it
eggs evident from their upturned faces that
t ey were dead; but the third was in a sit-
ting posture, and was gazing out upon the
stream, while his hands were clasped about
his head.

And upon the air floated an offensive odor,
that the young guide knew arose from de-
caying flesh, and his eyes became riveted
upon a semicircle of hideous beasts, gaunt,
hungry wolves, kept at bay by that living
human being, though they whined and sharp-
ened their white fangs, preparatory for the
feast they patiently waited for, and which
they knew must soon come.

And, as the boy looked, again arose that
wild laughter that sent a chill to his heart,
and then came words from the parched lips
of the man who gazed upon the ravening
wolves:

“0110, ye red-mouthed tearers of human

'uu.".u»_xl‘ l,‘ . J4 ~ “mm  tun.» .~_. _ ,t

 

flesh, you are feasting with your eyes now;
but you will not have long to wait ere your
fangs gnaw my bones. Cowards! why don’t
you spring upon me and tear the life out of
me, for I long to die, for, oh Godl how I
suffer!

“ Ha! ha! ha! how you fear me; how
brave 1 must he that my look keeps you at
bay.’

Captain Billy could stand no more, and
rode forward into the opening, his coming
scattering the wolves in all directions, and
bringing from the man the pleading cry:

“ Oh, you have come at last! you will
kill me, won‘t you, and end my agony?”

Throwing himself from his saddle the boy
approached the man and gazed into his face,
to start back with a cry:

“ Good God! you are Hugh Farle l"

“ Yes, what there is left of me; ut who
are you that calls me by name?" and the
sunken eyes were turned upon the youth
with a vacant stare.

“ I am Buffalo Billy; don't you remember
——I guided you, and Hank Hayes, and
Benton Burke and others, thirteen of you in
all, across to Leavenworth?"

“Yes, we had silver, oh! so much silver!
I know you now, Billy, for you told us how
to bury the silver, and you w1ll soon bury
me.”

“No, no, you will soon be all right!
Come, tell me what is the matter, part1?"

“ I ant-hungry.”

lIis tone was so plaintive that it brought
tears to the brave boy’s eyes.

“ Oh! don’t mind that, for I have plenty
to eat, and my train will soon be along and
you will be well cared for. Now tell me
what else ails you?”

“ [Ia shot me, Billy; wasn’t it cruel?"

“ Shot you! who shot you, pard?”

“He didl see; one bullet broke my leg,
and another hit me here on the head, and he
thought I was dead like poor Tim Mayo and
Prin all there, whom the wolves want so
bad."

“ B r the Rockies! Hugh Farley, you say
true, or there certainly lie Mayo and Prin-
dall,” cried Billy, recognizing now in the
bloated death-blackened faces two more of
the silver miners’ band.

“I’ll bury them, pard, so the wolves can’t
get them, and—”

“If the wolves are as hungry as I am,
Billy, let them have them,” was the plaintive
replyir
“ o, no, they deserve a better fate, Hugh.
Cheer up, old man, for the train will soon be
along, and then you shall have plenty to eat,
and be well cared for. Now eat this piece of
bread, and tell me who killed your friends,
and shot you ‘2”

 

. - urn-oi, v,

 

 

l 31:1?an Billy. the

Boy Bullwhacker.

 
  

 

L

“ ’Sh—l I dare not tell, for‘hc would kill
me, too, and I don‘t want to die, now 1 have
seen you, Bill ; I want to get well to go
back to my 0] home in Delaware, and carry
plenty of silver to make my parents happy
in their old age, and, Billy, 1 want to live to
—t0—kill him.”

Seemingly overpowered with his emotions,
he grew black in the face, and Billy ex-
peedted him to die then; but he rallied and
SM :

“Little pard, I have been here by my two
(lead friends for three days and nights—011!
such long and dreary nights, and I have suf—
fered, oh, so much, for see, my leg is
broken."

“I see it, poor fellow!“ said the youth, a
glance at the fearful wound showing him
that the leg must go, and the chances of sav-
ing his life were doubtful.

“ We were going back to the mines, Bil-
ly; 'I‘im, Prindall and myself. and were tak-
ing our chances, having missed the other
boys at Leavenworth, some having gone
backwith the trains, and others not having
arrived; well, Billy, we camped here, and
suddenly he came upon us, and we were so
glad; but oh God! Billy he is here now!
look, there he stands!" ~

Buffalo Billy wheeled quickly, his revol—
ver in hand; but nothing was in sight, other
than the dead, the skulking wolves, Little
Gray feeding near, and the wounded man.

“No, he is not there, pard,” he said,
kindly.

“lie is there, Billy, so don’t let him kill

me! See! he is creeping up to kill you,
too! Quick! Oh quick! for the love of
God!”

With a Wild shriek the poor crazed man
struggled to his feet, bearing his weight up—
on his shattered leg. and then with a groan
of anguish, he sunk upon the ground.

Kneeling by his side Billy tried to revive
him; but the minutes flew by, and the crack-
ing whips and shouting of the teamsters
sounded louder and louder as the train drew
nearer and nearer its camping-place, but still
Hugh Farley remained unconscious, and with
each breath his pulse grew weaker, until at
last the heartthrobs ceased forever, just as
the wolves, recognizing at sight of the train,

' that they would be driven from their feast,
set up a long, dismal howl in chorus, and
scampered away out of sight.

“ Poor Hugh! What a sad fate you and
Tim and Prindall have met! Three more
added to the death list, leaving four more of
the thirteen.

“ Are all doomed, I wonder?” and the boy
turned to greet the judge and Mary, who
just then rode up, and gazed in horror up-
on the sad tableau.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
'rnn SILVER sun MINERS.

WITHOUT a serious accident, and in good
time, the Hale train pulled into Denver one
afternoon, and after a rest of a day, still
under the guidance of Captain Billy, headed
for the place of settlement, already selected
by the emigrants. .

Having seen the part encamped on their
own ground, and bid en farewell to the
judge and Mary, whom he promised to visit
again some day, Billy Cody, with the golden
reward of his valuable services in his belt,
returned to Denver, where he passed several
days making certain inquiries, as though
about to set forth upon some trail with an
important object in view.

Having gained what information he de-
sired, the fearless youth set ofi alone for the
mines, and not long after sought shelter in a
shanty of considerable pretensions, which by
courtesy, and a vast stretch of imagination
was called the Palace Hotel.

When not on the trail Billy consulted his
comfort, and seeing that he had the “ dust "
to pay for palatial (‘2) accommodations, the
landlord gave him a ten by eight room, of
course on the ground floor, there being no
second story.

The furniture of this den consisted of a
bed without sheets, a crippled chair and a
boot-jack, and there were several bullet—holes
in the door, suggestive of the thought that
some unfortunate former occupant had been
besieged there, perhaps for his board—hill,
and mayhap by a Vigilance Committee who
wanted him to emigrate for the country’s
good.

Not finding his quarters enticing in the
daylight, Billy sauntered into the office,
which also did duty as a social hall, bar-
room, and, as was often the case, dueling.
ground.

Here, in listening to the conversation of
the miners there assembled, Billy learned
of a serious accident that had that morn-
ing occurred in the Silver Star Mine,
which was the property of a dozen or more
diggers who had “struck it rich "some years
before.

“ I tell yer, pards,” said a heavily-bearded
miner, “ Carl Moran has struck it rich sure,
for thar hain’t another one o’ ther gang out
heur now.”

“Was all kilt ‘2” asked another.

“All but Moran, fer they was workin‘
down in ther shaft when ther rock broke
loose an’ fell in, while he’d corned out
ter git some feed, an’ they was about ter
foller.”

“How many was thar, pard, you say?"
asked a miner who had just come in.

  

 

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VWLW‘u'wn < -

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§8 3115an Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker.

 

“ Dave Perry, Dead-Eye Dan an’ Tony
Parker—all prime tellers, too.”

“ Then Carl Moran has got the mine all to
himself?" asked Buffalo Billy, stepping for-
ward.

“He hes fer a Bible fact; but it’s about
played now, as ther dust is all dug out; but
what they has in partnership, Carl hes charge
of, an’ I guesses he’ll start East now, fer it’s
enough ter make him han'some rich. Does
yer know him, youngster?"

“Yes, and all the others too, who were in
partnership with him. Where is the Silver
Star Mine, for I would like to go there?"

“Moran isn’t thar, fer ther sight 0’ his
dead pards sickened him, an' he’s up at ther

' Miners’ Hotel whar he boards, an' he‘s feelin’

awful bad, an’ I don’t wonder, poor fellcr,
when he see ther big rock at ther top 0’ ther
shaft fall in on ther boys.”

Buffalo Billy heard no more, but wended
his way to the Silver Star Mine, findingit,
by following the crowd flowing in a steady
stream of humanity toward the scene of dis-
aster.

There, 1 ing upon the rocks were the three
mangled orms, which had been extricatcd
from the shaft; but with a glance at the
dead, Billy Walked to the mine, and closely
examined the rock from which the piece had
broken which went crashing down upon the
toilers below.

” That rock has been undermined until it
took but a slight blow to break it loose.
W'ell, there lie four more of the thirteen; I
wish Icould have arrived sooner to warn
them of their danger. Now but one remains,
and he too is doomed.”

Returning to his hotel, Bufialo Billy “kept
dark” for the rest of the day—in fact for the
remaining three days he remained in the
mines. ,

Still, by adroit questioning, and keeping
his eyes and ears open, he seemed to have
gained some important information, for he
left the mines earl one bright morning,
evidently determine upon his future course.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
TRACKED.

"BOYS, I guess I’ll drop back with my
wagon this morning for awhile, but I’ll
catch on by camping time."

“ hat’s 1n the wind now, pard?"

“0b! a year ago I cached a little dust in
this neighborhood, as my wagon broke down
and I thought I’d dig it up now, as I’ve got
enough to keep‘ me from coming West
again."

“Some of the boys will help you if you I

want them.”

 

“N0, I’ll do it myself, thank you. ’

“ Keep your eyes open for lnjuns.”

“There are not any around, I guess."

The speakers were Carl Moran, whom the
reader has before met, and the last of the
thirteen miners, and Al llaines, the captain
of the silver train going East.

The scene was the small stream upon
which the miners had camped the night after
the breaking down of their wagon.

As the train pulled out of camp and disap-
peared over the divide, Carl Moran remained
behind with his six~mulc team and large
wagon, already containing a goodly fortune
in silver.

When he saw the last wagon tilt out of
sight he sprung into his saddle, on one of the
wheel-mules, and drove down-stream for a.
mile, when he came to a halt, and took from
his pocket a piece of paper.

“Yes, this is the tree, and so many paces
due west I’ll find the first stake,” he said,
with a triumphant smile in his evil face.

Driving on his quick eye soon cauglit‘sight
of the stake for which be searched, and
which was only a couple of inches above the
ground.

From there on he followed the stakes un-
til he went over a rise into a place where the
prairie became almost a shallow valley.

“Ila! ha! ha! here is the spot, and be-
neath my feet lies the treasure for which I
have so deeply dyed my hands in blood.

“ See, it has sunken. as will a grave when
the collin rots, or earth settles; but I’ll soon
have the precious metal in my wagon. and
then be! for the East, where I can live like a
prince.”

Backing his wagon up to the spot, he
sprung to the ground and taking his spade
began his work, which to his sordid nature
was a delightful task.

What mattered it to him that the sweat
dropped in beads from his brow, and large
blisters came upon his hands with his hard
work?

He was digging for wealth, and as many a
man before him, minded not the pain and
fatigue.

At last his spade struck something that
gave a metallic ring; it was the iron hooping
encircling a box 0f silver, and soon the treas-
ure was revealed, and one by one were torn
from their resting-place and put into the

agon.

“A splendid two hours’ work; now to
overtake the train, for it would seem a just
judgment upon me, if the Indians were to
capture me,” and be cast a suspicious glance
around him, but saw no danger in sight.

“Up, mules. up! You haveadouble load

to draw now."
The strong animals gave a tug at the traces,

$.99... .,

 

~ 
4!
2

 

Bufialo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker. 29

 

but ere the wheels turned a dark form sud-

' denly glided around the wagon, and with a

cry of horror. as though he had seen a spirit,
Carl Moran beheld before him one he well
knew.

“ I’lold! Carl Moran, I have the drop on

on.

“ Why, Buffalo Billy, is it vou? I am
more than glad to see you.” '

“ You lie! you would rather see the devil
than one who knows all your deeds of crime
to gain the treasure we buried here.”

“Boy, What do you mean? This is my

reasure, so be careful,” warned the man,
saitagely, but not daring to move, as the
youth’s rifle pointed at his heart.

“ One-thirteenth of it, yes; but the other
twelve-thirteenths, Carl Moran; where are the
owners .9”

“ lt is all mine, for I bought out the inter-
ests of all, excepting the one you saw force
me to kill him in Leavenworth.”

“ You lie! He was not your first victim.
Your first lies in a grave not far away, and
you poisoned him, I now believe.

“ Your second victim you killed over a
game of cards; your third and fourth you
started West with and cowardly shot in their
sleep one night; your fifth and sixth you
played Indian to kill, when they stood guard
in a western-bound train; your seventh,
eighth and ninth you COWardly murdered,
for they expected no harm from a friend, as
they believed you, and poor Hugh Farley,
whom I found drugged and crazed, dared
not tell who had done the deed; but I knew,
Carl Moran, as I know also that your tenth,
eleventh and twelfth victims were crushed
to death by the l‘Ot‘k your devilish ingenuity
undermined and hurled down the shaft of
the mine upon them.

“Now, with a fortune, their fortune in
your wagon, you have come here and dug up
the balance, that you might revel in the lux-
uries and ease it will bring,r you. But 1 say

, no, a thousand times no, Carl Moran!”

“In the Fiend’s name, What mean you,
boy? Because you hold me in your power
would you rob me?”

“Oh, no; Death shall rob you.”

The man was now while with fear, and
cried in trembling tones:

“ Would you kill me?"

“As I would a snake, Carl Moran; but
let me tell you it is not to rob you of your
treasure; oh, no. See! On this paper are
the names of your twelve victims. When
your guide, I found out their real names
and where they lived. and this treasure goes
to their heirs, whoever they may be, to be
divided equally." ,

“And mine?” gasped the man.

“You have often said you had no near

 

kindred, and lucky for them you have not,
as they wouldn’t own you, so your share
goes to the common pot to be divided.”

“By Heaven! you shall not rob me of my
wealth if I die for it," cried the man with
sudden boldness.

“ Oh, you’ll die for it, 1 can swear, for I
have tracked you to kill you. Some twenty
miles back, since you crossed the Platte, one
of Russell, Majors and Waddell’s bull out—
fits have been following your silver train.
and I have been dogging you since you left
Denver.”

“ To kill me?”

“Your head is level on that subject, pard;
I intend to take you back to the bull outfit,
and when I tell you that Wild Bill is the boss
of it, and I have already told, him of your
killing game, you may know that you'll be
hanged as soon as the train reaches a tree to
string you up to." '

“ Boy, I’ll give you half of this treasure if
you’ll let me go free.”

“It isn’t yours to give, you accursed as—
sassin!"

“ Then take it all and let me go!”

“ Nary! I’ve got it all now, and you, too.
Come! dismount and let me tie you, for I'll
drive the team.”

“ Great God! is that Wild Bill?”

Instinctively Bufl'alo Billy turned his head,
and, caught off his guard, Car] Moran threw
himself from the saddle right upon him,
knocking his rifle from his grasp, and both
going down to the ground together, and
clutching in the desperate struggle which
both well know was for life or death.

CHAPTER XXIII.

, A FRIEND IN NEED.

DRIVEN to frenzy, Carl Moran grasped
Bufialo Billy in his powerful arms, for he
was a man of great physical strength, and
endeavored to draw his knife.

But the boy was as wiry as a serpent. and
remarkably strong: for his years, while he
possessed wonderful powers of endurance,
and his antagonist soon felt that if he gained
the victory it would by no means he an easy
one, and he used every efl'ort to free his
hands from the grip of his oung foe. so that
he could use either his kni e or pistol.

But, with a tenacity and strength that was
equal to Moran’s, Billy held on, and though
they struggled fiercely, rolling over and over
neither could gain the mastery of the other,
nor the slightest advantage.

When Carl Moran had made his spring
from the saddle, Bufialo Billy had turned
just in time to catch his wrists in a grip of
iron, and after that he knew that it resolved
itself into a matter of endurance, for if his
grasp failed first, his foe would besahle to

.

 

 

    

30

Buflalo Billy, the Boy Bullwlmcker.

 

use his knife or pistol, while if the man first
gave out, then the boy could get hold of a
weapon and end the struggle.

“Curse you, boy, we are on even terms,
now; and do you know what 1’11 do with

?"

“ Shut up, Moran, for I’ve no wind to lose
now answering conundrums,” was the plucky
reply.

“ I’ll cut it short soon.”

“ You ought to, for I am only aboy; but I
doubt it.”

‘LWe’ll see, you young imp of Satan!" and
once more there was a fierce struggle for the
mastery, but Billy, though underneath, still
held his grip.

But gradually his muscles began to feel
the terrible strain, and he felt that the man
must conquer, yet determined to hold out to
the last.

And weaker and weaker he grew, until he
began to count the seconds he had to live,
for he did not doubt for an instant but that
the man would kill him.

“Ah, youngster, you are failing fast.”

“ Not yet, you devil," and as the boy spoke
he suddenly gave a long, loud call.

In an instant the sound of coming hoofs
was heard, and a shout broke from the boy‘s
lips. as a horse dashed over the rise.

“ Come! Little Gray, come, and save me!” t
he shouted.

“ Good God!”

The cry broke from the man’s lips now.
and the next instant he gave a shriek of
pain and terror, for Little Gray, seeing
the danger of his young master, rushed
up with savage fury, and seized the
shoulder of the man in his sharp teeth
druggiu him backward, and ere he let

0 his Vicious hold, the keen blade of Bufi'alo

ill ’3 knife sunk to the hilt 1n the heart of
Car Moran.

“Boy, curse you! you have conquered,”
came from the pallid llpS.

“You are mistaken, Carl Moran; Littler
Gray has conquered,” Was the reply of the
panting boy, as he threw his arms around the
neck of the noble horse and said, caress-
ingly:

“ Gray, old boy, you have saved my life,
and I love you so much.”

The faithful animal seemed to understand
fully the service he had rendered, and rubbed
his nose against his master’s cheek with a

 

low neigh of pleasure.

A moment after the boy turned toward the
man whom he had slain, and the glassy eyes
met his own; but they were fixed in death,
for Carl Moran, the last of the Doomed Thir»
teen, had met his fate.

Throwing his body into the hole from
whence the treasure had been taken, Billv
hastily fllled it up, and. mounting the saddlé
mule, and calling to Little Gray to follow, he
drove off due west and at as rapid gait as
was possible with the heavy wagon.

A drive of fifteen miles and the white tilts
of a wagon-train came in sight, and half an
hour after Wild Bill had heard the strange
story of his young protege.

CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION.

TRUE to his promise to himself, Bufi’alo
Billy, upon reaching his home, Wrote to the
kindred of the twelve men whom Carl Moran
had slain, and told them the story of the
miner’s death, as the reader already knows
it, and placed to their credit the share due
them out of thetreasure, after which he de-
termined to please his mother by remaining
at home, for, around the family hearthslone
he had told the story of his adventures, and
the fate he had saved his sister Julia from,
for, but for her brother's opposition, the
lovely girl might have married Kent King
the Gambler Guide, of whose fate no one
know, though it was rumored that he had
escaped from the Texas Herders, and had
leagned himsolf with bandits.

()f Wild Bill’s sad death by the hand of a.
professed friend, who turned assassin, the
reader doubtless knows; but he does not
know that Bufialo Billy’s roving nature
quickly drove him to the plains again, where _
he figured in a new character as Pony Ex—
press Rider; nor, Is it known to the reader,
that, in keeping his pledge to visit Mary Hale
in her faraway home, Captain Dash, the
Texan, met with many thrilling and roman-
tic advcntures, which in connection with the
daring exploits of Bill Cody, the deeds of
Prairie Pete and Old glegotiate, the eccen-
tricities of the person, and mysteries con-
nected with the past life of Judge Hale, will
form a theme for a sequel to this story of liv-
ing characters, under the title of “BUFFALO
BILL’s BET; on, THE GAMBLER GUIDE.”

THE END.

 

 

  

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"he Twn l’t‘ll'l‘liVl‘fi; or, The Fortunes of a
:._..-.4.-y um. lly Alla-n \\‘. Alkell.

The l’rnirie Pilot: or, The l'hnntom Spy. By
Bull in Bill.

The luli'ulo Demon; or, The Burder Vultures.
lly Edu'nrtl L. VHweh-

Antelouc Abe. illu Buy Guide.
'0 \Vt’ldc. xhs Buy Swut.
(J. B. (luluhundrol.

  

 

 

lly ()ll Comm-s.
By “Tuxnu Junk "

llllll’ulo “on, l’rinr-e of (he Pislnl. By E. L.\Vheelor.
Rnlnh I{0_ the Brv lruccaneer. By C l. lngmhznn.
Nick o'tlu light; or, The 1503' Spy Ol '78. By T.

 
   

 

 

Y t‘llowul on | Jack; "1', Tl‘npprra of the Enclunted
Grahml. lir .lx ' L’er. Jr.
“'llti Ivan him]. By E. l..“'heeler,
\l

   
 
  
  
  

 

Dlmuonll \‘sivry of the Yelle-
stone, By .
Kcon-Knlic, By Oll Commas.

, .
ch mmm . Lo spy.

rtlve. By E. L. “'herler.

Law“) J uric, Ilw Yu «1 Muslnnmr. llv Oil Commas.

llunring Ilulnh llm-kwooll, the Reckiuu
llmlgler. llv llmry Si. “purge.

The Boy Clown; or, The Queen of the Arena. By
Frank .\'. Finn.

Dragon Sui: nr. .\l By Unpt.
J. i". C. Adulns

Dent h- Fnrc. the D.-

 
 

  

’|‘hL- l’huntnm Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’-
lllmnnxu. liy Edward L. “ Imelpr‘
The (‘ux , The Witch of Durien. By Capt.

‘
Fredr- . \Vlliltn

The Dumh Spy

llntlllnz Ilnh
tucl- <. l§_\- llux'r) $1. Grunge.

Old Avnlunvhc, the Great Annihiiltor. By Ed, L,
\Vllwlar.

m“ “4.359, the Great Shot of tha “'ent. By Capt. J.
F. (7. :lmnsz.

The llny ('nntnln; or, The Pirale‘s Daughter. lly
“IILN'I' Siurlmvh.

Dick Hurling. um Punv EXlll'Cr! Rider. By Captain
H‘cilurlrk \Vlllltnlwr.

llnh “'lmli'. the “I‘l‘liv‘? Ruffian. Ry ii. l.. “'heeiur.

ngltiiluzuie Nut; ur. 'l'he Furest (.‘nplalni. By
'I'. (‘.. Hurlvnugh.

Illuvk Jnhu. t‘u- l‘u-nd Axum.

flumlm 0i]. tlw .‘lmk d Turnr.

Burl It kor, le’rmppm. 'ly (y‘enrge E, lmulle.

The llny Killeng or, Th» Undx-rxround CNllip. By
A. C. ll‘tllls.

The “'hilc ll fl'ulo.
tun-n in Ihe Nurlhwbt.
Jlln lliudnoe, Jr., the Buy Phenix.

\Vlu-oler.

 

1‘.
By Oll Conlnea.
or, The Night Hawks of Ken-

   

llv .l. E. Bridger. Jr.

 

 

A Tnle 0" Strange Advan-
1?me m E. Lmn».
By Edward L.

Nod “nu-Lina Boy Trnpprr. By Cnpt. J. RC. Adams. l

Dcndlr Eye. 1h» I'ul.nuwn Scout. lly Bntl‘nlu Bill.

0 Nluk ‘Vhiflh-n’n Pct ; or, In the Vulle orphan.

lly Cnpl. J. i". C. Animus.

Deadwnml Dick’n Hawk“: on The Pilde nf
l’ln ~d llxtr. By Hdunrll 1.. Wheeler.

The Border King; or, The Sucre! Foe. By Oil
t‘mmms.

01d "h kury; or. l’nndy Ellio‘l Scalp. By Harry
5!. (hmruv. ‘

The “'hlte lndlan ;. or, The Scouts of the Yellow»
Rune. My er-I. J. F. C. Adams.

“mum”. mu; Or, The ma Rifle Tum. n,-
Edwuril L. “'heelrr.

The flhmhnv ship,- or, The Rirnl Lieutennnu.
By Col. I'nrntlss lnumlmm.

The Red Ilrntlu-rhoml; or. The
Awngerl. By “C .l. llnnviltun.

Dandy Jack; or, The Outinw of the Oregon Trail.
By T. C. llnrimuzh.

Hurricane “III; or, Mix-Lung Slim and I’ll! “ Pard.”
By June n.  llndger, Jr. .

Single land; or. A Life far 1 Life. By W. J.
Hmniiton. '

Twelve

n)- E. L. \i'llwlvr. '

l 76 “'ntuh

 

l

l

 

mmmmmm‘nm:nwaam«ac/ammo:o.mmmmmmmmwwwmmmwmmmmhmwmwmwm

61 Patent-leather Jack or, Old Rude-ruin, th-
('lmrlller. ily Philip S. Y«rue.

52 The Border Robin llood; or,Tho Pnirie Mr.
lly Bullulo Bill.

53 Gold Rifle, the Simrpalmottr; or, The Boy Debativo
ul Ihe liluck llills. By Edu‘nrd L. “'heeler.

54 “Id 2111’! (‘nblng or, A Grcenhoru in the Woods.
By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

55 Dédnwure Dick, llm Young Ranger Spy. By Oll
names.
53 Mad Tom “'cstcrn, the Tum Ranger. ByW.

J. llmnlliun.

57 .Dt-nt’lwoml Dick on Deck; 01', Calamity June.
the llrrmxw nl' Whoop-U -. By E. L. “'ln-eier.

58 llfifiheye llurry, the Tounz Tr-pper Ranger. By

onmes.
59 '1 he Bo ' Duelist: or, The Cruise 0! the Sea Wolf.
By (‘01. remiss Ingmllum.
AIM.- Colt, the Crow-K llur. Br Albert Vl'. Aiken.
bl l‘a'rflulroy Charlie, the Bay Brnvo. By Edward L.
Iev t-r. .

“'lll Sonlorn. the Buy Detective. B" Chu. Morris.

so] Ginger, the aim Trnpwv. Br .1. w. Aiken.

64 lion-bud Rob; or, Nnygot Ned, the Knight of the

65 Iiihzlhch. lBy 151lqul L. Wheeler.
. z tn n m- l n: 'I rrmr bl the Pnirle. B '
pm. .1. 141%.. Adu’xns. 5 CW

66 lxlit llnrci’oat, the \‘l'ood-llnwk. By T. C. liar-
mug I.

6'? Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, The Heireu of the Golden
llnru. By 011 (ft-omen.

68 ldyl, line Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hnnd. By
Edwnrd L. “'heeler.

69 llfiteqtlye Dick ; or. The Heroin Rip. By Charle-
. arm.

70 Euro Shot Seth. the Boy Rifirmnn. By Oli Common.

71 thrp finm; or. The Adventures of: Fricndleu va.
By J. Alrxnndvr l’nllan.

72 The Lion ol‘the Sea; or. The anied lady 0! San
Tropet. By Alla-rt w. um.

78 Photograph l’hll,the no; Sleuth; or, Roubad Rob's
Renppeurnnm- By 1-2. 1.. 'lmlu.

74 Plea ‘ulle Pete; or, Nicodemu, the Dog Deter-tire.
My Charla Morr -.

7’, Inland Jim; on'rht P»! ofthe anily. By Bnu-
bridge lirmyng (.lm-k llnrhnwny).

, thv Slmdnw: nr. Arabs and Angels of -
Grant City. ll. Edward L. “'hecler.

7': lylok pend Eye. the Boy Smuggler. By Col. P
lngrnlmnl.

78 Deadwood Dick’s lleylr-o: or. The Sign of tho
Double ('ross. ’9' Fl 1.. under.

79 The Black MIN-ta gcr: or, The Wild Hana
“nun-n. ily Cum 1 nyne Reid.

80 ("d Frosty, (he Guide: or, Mokann. the Whit. Queen
oilin- mmlmet. By T. c. llnrbnuzh.

81 The Sea Viper; or. The Midshipnmn’l Legacy. By
Cnl. l’rentlun Ingmhum. .

89 llth Janet-x or, The Cliplli’tl of tho Frontlu. By
Edward S. l‘Illil.

88 Canada Chet, the Counurfeim Chinl‘. By Edwlrd
l.. “'lleelar.

84 The Dumb Pale; or. Thu Don‘s Dnughtcr. By
Cnpt. Frederick Vi‘hnlnhel.

85 The Boy Miners; or, The Each-rated hlnnd. By
Edward S. lillil.

86 Jtu-k llarkaway in New York.
bridge Hrmyng.

8? The lluunr Capt-in; or, The Hermit of Hull
Gate. By (30!. l’rentiu lngrnhnm.

88 Deadwood Dick in Loadt‘illc; or, A Shrugs
St nke (0r Libvrty. By Edwnrd L. Whaler.

89 Bill Ridden. Trapper; or, Lila in nu Northwest.
lly Edward 5. El is.

90 Tlppy, the Texan: onTlm Young Ommw 3!
George Giennnn.

Issued Every “loanesday.
Beadle’s Packet lernry in for ule by Ill New.-

.¢
0

:9
can

 

 

 

 

By Erm-

deniern, fire can“ per copy, or uni. by mail on reupo n! d: v

cent: mh.
BEADLE £6 ADAMS, Publishers,

98 William Street, New York.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

/ 32 OCTAVO PAGES.

ABY

 

 

91 Mufltnnz Sam, the King ol’the Plnlna. By Jon. E.
. linllgcr, .lr.

98 The Ocenn Bloodhound - or, The Red Pirates of
the Cnribhucl. By Stillluui \i‘. l‘rnrue.

98 Phil llnrdy, the lion Buy; or, The Myntcry oi‘ the I
Strongbnw. By Charles Mnrris. r

94 Deadwood Dick nu Detective. By E. L.VVi|n:ier. ‘

95 Buck Buckrnm‘; or, hers. tho Finnqu Trapper.
By Cuptuin J. F. .. Adams.

96 Gilt-Edged Dick, the Sport Detective. By E. L.
“'heeier.

97 The Black Steed of the Prairies. By Jnmer
L. Bowen.

98 The Sea Serpent; or. The Boy Robinson Crusoe.
15y .lurm Lewis.

99 Bonnnzn Bll], the Mun Trucker.

100 Nut Todd; or, The Fnte oi the Sioux Captive.
Edward S. Ellis.

101 During- I)nvy; the Young Bear Killer. By llurry
Si. George.

By E. L. Wheeler.
By

102 The Yellow Chit-l} or,The llnli-blood’s Vengeance
By Capt. my... Raid.

103 Chin, the Girl Sport; or. The Golden Idol 01' Mt.
Roan. liy Edwnrd L. “'hueiur.

104 The lilnck Schooner; or, Jib Junk, the Old

nr. By larger Stnrhnck.

105 llnudnurne llnrry, tho Bootblnck Detective. By
Chnrien Morris.

106 Night-llnwk Kit; or, the Daughter of the Hench.
By 10.4. E. Badger, Jr.

107 Jack ‘iloylo’n Lend; or, The Young Specu Mar.
153' Erlwnrii L. VVheeier.

108 Rocky Mountain Kit, the White Mustnnger.
By T. C. ilnrhnugh.

109 The Branded Ilund; or, The Man of Mystery.
By Frank Dunmnt.

110 The Dread Rider; or, The Turin Duelist. By
George W. Browne.

111 Roll; lloh. the King ofBoothlnckn. ByE. L.Wlmemr.

112 The. Helpless "and. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

118 Sour-an Sun], the Silent Hunter. By OllConmel.

114 l’lney Paul. the Mountnin' Bo :or. The Little
Arrow of the Adlrnmlnrks. By '1'. ‘. llnrhnngh.

115 Dcudwoml lllok’n Double. iy E. in “‘lu-clar.

116 Jnhez Culllu. Ski vper: or, Lost in thn i‘nlnr Regions.
ny cm. l-'. Whittnmr.

117 Fulon Frnrrk, of Cnlumdo.
“ Bllil'nlu Bill.”

118 w ill Wild lire, the ’l‘hornuuhbred. liy Firm. Morris.

119 Blondie, Bl“ nr, Deadwood I)i(‘i('l llomo linse. .
By Edward l.. \ Vin i-ler. ‘

120 Gopher um, tlluliuy'rrnyprr. By T. (1. n... hnngli.

121 llnrry Arnrnt rung, thr: (‘nplnin ofthu Cluh. iiy ‘
liruuhridgu- llx'lnyng, (n... llurhuwny.)

122 The "unth llnntcr
of the i’rnirie. iiy l'lvlwnrd .

128 Holld Sum, the ltrry Rand—Agent. By E. L. \theior.

124 Judge Lynch. Jr.; or. Tim Buy Vigilante. By
1'. C. linrhnugh. ,

125 The Land l'iruter; M, The League of Duvil‘a
lwlnnd. ny (‘nl-t. my... Reid.

136 Blue lllnzvn; 0r. The. lirmrk 0’ Day Buys of Rocky
liar. ii)v i"rnnk lllllnlllli.

127 Tony Fox, the l‘h'rrei; ur, Buss Bob's Bums Joh.

. Eriwnrd L. \l'llemli-r.

128 liinvk "on, Will Wihlflru‘e Racer. Bv Charla:
. orrll.

129 Eagle Kit, the hey Demon. By Oil (fooruel.

180 Gold Trigger, the Sport. By T. ('. ilnrbnugh.

 

By lion. \i’. l". (Indy.

1.. 5:. huge nmunmn f

n)-

 

mwmmmmmwmmwm

: 100 liuii'alo lillly. th- I;-

(bi/:5!)

181 A Game 01' Gold; or, Drlmlwond Dirk‘s Big
Strike. By Erin-uni L. \i'herler.

132 Dainty Lance, liw lloy Sport. liyl. E. Bridger, Jr.

.138 “'ild‘flre, the Boss oi the Ronni. By Frnnk Dunmnt.

134 Mike Merry, the llnrhnr Pulii'e iioy. lly C. .‘lul‘i’ifi.

185 Deadwood Dick 01' Deadwood. By Edwnrd

. Wheeler.

136 Old Rube, thoHnntvr. Bndpi. iiumiuon Hnlnmr.

137 Dandy Rock, the Man truxn Tvxns. By G. “'uldo
Browne.

138 Bob Rockoit, tln- lim- Doxizer. By (Lime. Mvrrrir

139 The Bl nok (Hunt; or, Dninty Lnnce in Jeopardy.
By Jurrph r2. liruip-r, .lr.

140 Curlltnln Arizona, the King Pin of Rund-Agnntu.
liy unnp  “'nrnu.

141 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl
Edward L. “'ireriur.

142 Little Texnafihu Ynnnghiulinnger. By Oil Coornel.

148 Dr-ndly Dru-h; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. iiy
Jon. E. Buduur, Jr.

144 Little Grlt, tile \Vild Rider; or. Bosnia, thvStnck
Tundur‘s Ihiliflilfir. By Col. Prvntilx Ingrnhnm. I

145 The Tiger oi’Tnon; or. Will! Kutc, Duxuly thk’n
Angel. By Gen. “'nldi) Browne.

146 The Cattle King; or, Cortimr’s Right Bower. By

1 rank Dumont.
147 Nobhy Nlt'k ofNevnda; or, The Stump; ot' the

5mm. By Exiwnrxl 1.. “heel r.

148 Thundcrholt Torn; or,The Wolf-Herder of the
Rockies. By llnrry St. George

149 llnl) “(x-ken, the Bunk Runner; or, The Road to
Ruin. By (‘hnries .‘lnrril.

150 The Mud Miner; or.Dnndy Rock’s Doom.
(i. \‘anrln nmwne.

151 The Ren Truiler; or, A Vow \Veii Kept. By
Cu]. Prentiss ingmhnnr.

152 Bondy Burke: or, The Tiger: ol'High Pine.
W'iliinin R. Hyhtcr.

158 “'lld Frank, the Buchlriu Brno.
“’iiweier.

154 The lioy Trailer-In; nr. Dninty Lance on the
\\ni-P:|Ul. B} .ius. E. limiger, Jr.

155 Gold l’lnrnc, the Buy Bandit: or, The Kiri-Glove
Sport. My f'ul. l’runti» inurnlmm.

156 “'Ill “'lldilre in the “'umin.
15’? Nod Temple, the linlviur Buy.
153 llondu'uml I’ll-kin Doom.

159 l’ntcntvlnnithc Joe's lDei't-ut. ii} i'hiiip. S.
nun... mm; .1. .-...

I
a: who

on." -' v.3

Detective. By

By

By

By Edward 1..

n,- i'. )ltnrria.
1w. nay-nu].

. Win-vi. r.

' liuiiwlmcllur. By Col. 1’.

lnu rn iizeul. iirmi v 1‘}

16I Boll Hold-cit. Hr.-
Wun. n.- ri.-.r|.-.- 31..

an...” 0., prim. to the
chdy m). 9.

162 Llltli- Ilurrlvnnb, the no,- ('zlrinin. liy 4m

mun”... iii-ml) m). In.
163 Dcndwuod lDir-k’n Dream: nr, 'i'ln- iiix
mu mm. in Edward 1.. \Yilucicv. r... y 1-1-1.
Innru‘d livery \‘Vedncnduy.

“endle‘n l‘ockt-t Library is t‘nr nih- h_\- nil Nun-q.
druiers, five ceniI 1-i-r mm', or icnt hy until .u. 1... up; ..{ 51‘
can“ each.

BEADLE & ADAfilfi. l’uhlinhorn,
95 William Street, New York.

 \ PRICE, FIVE CENTS. “a
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