i yezo0ed

 

 

 

|_A WEEKLY PUBLICATION )_F_1__ PAVOTED TO BORDER HISTORY |

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. VY. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-8 Seventh Ave. N. ¥.

No. 270

NEW YORK, JULY 14, 1906. Price, Five Cents

 

 

 

 

 

to the shaking and slender log for dear life, while the

mad chief dashed
forward to brain him.

 
 

 
 

 
  
 

 
 

 

 

 

   

   

 

  

 
 

 

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year.

FAL. BILL

A WEEKLY PUBLICATION ~— |}
DEVOTED TO BORDER HISTORY

Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. ¥. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-80 Seventh Avenue,
N.Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1906, tn the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

STOR]

 

 

 

 

 

over the world as the king of scouts.

  

{=> Beware of Wild West imitations of the Buffalo Bill Stories. They are about fictitious characters. The Buffalo
Bill weekly is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffalo Bill, (Col. W. F. Cody), who is known all

 

 

No. 270.

 

 

NEW YORK, July 14, 1906.

Price Five Cents.

 

 

The Mad Chief of the Modocs.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER I.
CALIFORNIA JOE.

_A horseman, magnificently mounted, and armed with
“revolvers, knife, and repeating rifle, rode slowly along
the mountain trail.

His peculiar costume, his alert and daring air, the

oy searching glance of his eye, would have attracted atten-

tion anywhere.
The horseman was the renowned scout and Indian
fighter, Buffalo Bill, and the ragged ridges about him
ere the lava ranges of California.
» > He held his rifle across his eaddte horn, aid scanned
ee trail before him as he rode along.
_. Above him a hawk soared, circling, in the blue sky.
A rifle cracked. The soaring hawk collapsed in its
_ flight, and tumbled headlong toward the earth.
_. Buffalo Bill drew rein, watched the falling hawk,
lanced keenly along the trail and out over the lava
slopes, and sat awaiting developments.

 
 

He was in a land of dangers, and his advance along
the trail had been made with caution.

The Modoc Indians were reported to be in this vi-
cinity, and on the war-path, which was. the occasion of
his visit to the place. The day before they had made -
a sudden and fierce descent on an outlying settlement,
massacring the inhabitants and running off cattle.

It was reported that they had fled in this direction;
for near here were the lava beds, where ‘they could find
shelter, and from which it would be difficult to rout
them.

The scout wondered now if the hawk had not been i

shot by some Indian brave, to get its wing and tail
feathers to adorn a war-bonnet.

The surmise seemed probable.

The falling hawk dropped to the ground on the other
side of a low ridge, and the scout urged his horse on
that. he might get a view of the person who had slain it.

“It was a pretty shot, whoever did it!’ was his

  

 
-

thought. ‘These Indians are improving in their marks-
manship, if it was the work of an Indian.”

Just before reaching the ridge, he slid out of the
saddle and crept forward on foot.

What he beheld as he peered over surprised him so
much that he rose to his feet with an exclamation of
astonishment.

“California Joe!’

A tall borderman stood in the trail, the breech of
his long rifle resting against the ground while he rammed
home a ball with resounding thumps of the wooden
ramrod.

He turned quickly when he heard the scout ane
‘slipped a percussion-cap on the rifle-tube, lifting the
weapon at the same time.

Then he laughed, with a sense of relief.

“Buffler, by all ther gods o’ war!” he cried, throw-
ing the rifle into the hollow of his arm and stepping
toward the scout, while his hairy mouth expanded. in
a grin.

His beard was reddish, and so was his hair; and,
though he looked gaunt and ungainly, he stepped with
the alertness of a young man, in oe of his years spent
in the mountains.

The scout hurried to meet him, catching ie out-
stretched hand and clasping it warmly.

“Ther same ole Buffler, and ther same ole Californy
Joe!” cried the latter.. ““Put’“er thar, an’ shake!
seen ye fer a b’ar’s age! Whar ye been, an’ what ye
doin’ hyar ?”’

“First, tell me what you’re doing here, and why you
shot that hawk, which I see you haven’t picked up and
do not intend to?”

-“Oh, that hawk! Well, I’d cleaned the ole rifle, ye
see, and, noticin’ that pirate of the air soaring round
up thar lookin’ fer what it might devour, I thought
I’d try ther ole gun on it and see if it-was in fust-class
shootin’ order. Fer, ye-see, this is Modoc country, an’,
though they’ve been so peaceable they’ll feed out o’ yer
hand lately, thar ain’t never any tellin’ when they mout

dig up ther hatchet and go inter the ha’r-liftin’ bizness.

ag’in. An’ I’ve got some considdable ’sponsibility rest-
in’ on my weak shoulders at jes’ this minute, ’count
of a waggin-train over thar in that valley. I war lookin’
round some, ter see if ther Modocs had.left any hoof-
prints of their devils’ feet round hyar. Didn’t find none,
and so cal’lated that they war still as peaceful as suckin’
babies. Then I seen that hawk, and thought Id test ther
ole gun on him.”
“Ts your horse near here ?”

“No; Pm afoot. Country’s ruther rough, ye see, away
frum the trail, and a feller kin hoof it easier’n he kin
tide-at. But, Buffler, Ym glad to see you!’ _ .

“Glad to see you, I repeat. But, Joe, the Modocs
are onthe war-path!” . |

Hain’t:

&

2 THE BUFFALO os 7S LORIES.

heard a snake give its warning rattle. :

“Ef that’s so, Buffler, dinged ef I hain’t te
eejit! Shootin’ at hawks, with Injuns crawlin’ tr
But air you shore ©’ this?”

The scout gave him the source of his informatic

“And that’s why you're oe

UN es.”

“Say, Cody, this troubles me; fer, ye see, I’ve g
waggin-train down thar—men, weemin, and child
They’re in fightin’ position, and ther waggin boss 3 1S
clever feller; but if ther Modocs are really

He stopped.

Wild yells rose from the distant valley to which
had alluded, mingled with the sharp reports of rifle

‘Yejuns!? cried California Joe. — _

“Yes ; the wagon-train has been attacked. .

and started Ee the slope.

“I got ter git thar, Cody! .I feels like a nnirdesel

He threw the words back at the scout as he sho
away, running at rapid speed toward the sounds of the
fighting.

Buffalo Bill turned in the pier direction, hurryi
to get his horse,

By the time he was mounted and again at the top
of the rise, California Joe was far down the hill, dodg-
ing in and out among the bushes that grew in thes
crevices of the rocks and lava.

Buffalo Bill held to the trail as far as he could, anc
then sent his horse across the Tougner oot follows!
ing the mountaineer. 3

For a brief time, the rattle of fhe rifles was like the
snapping roar of firecrackers, and the- Indian yells made-
a hideous. din. - .

But the rifle fire was slacking, ae the Indian yell
soon almost ceased. ar

All of which caused the scout fe Seated uneasiness,.
as he rode at headlong and dangerous speed toward
the scene of the fight. 4

Now and then he beheld Cone dee bain on
in advance, speeding almost with the gait of a tunning
horse. a

The scene of Ae fight was not t itselé visible.

CHAPTER. If:
IN THE WAGON-TRAIN CAMP.

When California Joe left the wagon-train, he was fol-
lowed over the rough oe by a. pair. oh eee eyes
until he disappeared,

“Mr. Townsend,” said the owner of the bright “eyes,
addressing the master of the wagon-train, “do you. be-
lieve in presentiments : Be .

 
THE BUFFALO

“Presentiments, Miss Lindsay? No, I can’t say that
T do!”

He was a young man, and the flash of those bright
eyes made his heart flutter at times and brought a flush
to his cheeks.

“You’ve had some sort of presentiment?”’ he went on,
coming toward her.

She was seated on a roll of bedding, near the center
of the camp, which had been pitched in the very heart
of the little valley, that it might be sufficiently removed
from the dark defiles of the ridges, which, in an Indian
country, are always dangerous places. The bedding had
been rolled together and was about to be placed in one
of the wagons for transportation, for they expected to
break camp on the return of California Joe, who was
the guide of the train.

“T have a presentiment now; have had it ever since
the guide set out, and it’s growing on me! You'll think
I’m foolish, I know.”

“Pardon me, but I could never think you foolish!”

He smiled and bowed.

“Will you mind my presentiment enough to order
that the wagons be placed back in position for a de-
fense?” she asked anxiously.

He stood before her, smiling down upon her.

“Of course, presentiments are usually foolish things,
and I pay no attention to them,” she admitted. “And
maybe this isn’t a presentiment, but merely that I have
been made nervous by thinking of Indians. But, just the
same, I can’t shake it off.”

“T think the guide will be back within an hour or
less, and then we are to move on, you know. He has
seen no Indians. And, really, the Modocs have been
peaceful now for months.” |

“But every one knows what fiends they are when
they get started!”

Even’ this talk of the Modocs was making her pale
and anxious.

The young captain of-the wagon-train saw it, but he
selfishly wished to continue the talk, that he might be
near her and hear her, and watch the play of her ex-
pressive features. She was the most beautiful girl in
the train, in fact, almost the only young lady; for the
others were either too old to be interesting, or too
young. And, in his eyes, she was an angel of loveli-
ness.

“Oh, they’re bad enough when they get started,” he
admitted easily. “But we'll continue to believe they'll
not get started this trip. They’ve been quite peaceful
lately.”

“But won’t you order the wagons into a circle, any-
way? Just to please me ?” she urged.

“And have everybody laughing at you?”

“J don’t care how much they laugh at me,” she said
wilfully. “Perhaps, though, you’re afraid they'll laugh

’

BILL STORIES. | oe

at you? But the master of the train shouldn’t be afraid
of comment, when he gives his orders.” | :

“Nor should he give orders without good reason,’
he observed, smiling. “Come, now, admit that you're
scared ?”

“Yes Fant scare,

“And without any good reason?”

UYeso b admuit

“Then it isn’t a presentiment?”

“Call it fear, then—ill-grounded fear—anything; but
put the wagons in a circle! It won't take long; and if
the guide laughs when he comes back tell him I’m the
coward who was to blame for it. I accept the responsi-
bility.”

“Really, if you wish it very much, Miss Lindsay?”

“I do wish it very much, Mr. Townsend; and Ill never
get done thanking you. I know that some of the other
women are as nervous and fearful as I am. And that’s
justification, isn’t it? If you relieve our fears, even
though they’re needless and foolish, that’s all the justi-
fication you require. And the guide must be a little
fearful himself, or he wouldn’t have set out to scout
about the country before moving on with the train.”

“Queen of my heart,” said Townsend, pretending to
jest, though he meant it, “you have but to command to
be obeyed! I'll order the thing done at once.”

He turned away, smiling and flushing, pleased with
himself and with this opportunity to do something that
would please Miss Lindsay. .

Some of the men grumbled when Townsend gave his
orders that the wagons should be parked. Nevertheless,
they began to wheel the wagons into position, placing
them so that they formed a circle round the outside of
the camp, thus forming a sort of barricade. They had
been drilled in the work by California Joe, who had
feared bandits more than Indians. But the country in
which bandits had been most feared had been passed
through safely, and this parking of the wagons had since
been somewhat neglected.

Miss Lindsay watched the work with critical eye,
and even ventured ‘now and then to make a suggestion.

The men laughed and jested, when they discovered
that it was Miss Lindsay’s fears that had brought the
order, and they threw little quips and jokes at her.

“Better a forehanded fool than a slain wise man.
Which is but another way of saying, ‘A live dog is better
than a dead lion!’ Of course, your work will prove
unnecessary, and the guide will be back soon; but, in
the meantime, think of the solid comfort and happiness
you are conferring on a lot of timid women!”

She laughed brightly. ;

The men of the wagon-train liked Miss Lindsay, and
they knew her story, of a singular search that had caused
her to join this wagon-train and penétrate this wild
region. She was different from the other women of

 

 
  

 

4

the train. They were the wives and daughters of pio-
neers, almost as stern of fiber as their husbands and
fathers. Miss Lindsay was a timid woman from the
effete East, in their estimation. So, even the women,
aside from Miss Lindsay, laughed as the wagons were
being parked.

In the midst of the work they were thrown into a
“« flutter of excitement by the distant report of the rifle
of California Joe, when with marvelous skill he brought
the hawk down with a rifle-ball, a feat of marksmanship
that would have delighted Townsend, who admired fine
shooting and thought he was something of a shot him-
self.

A tremor of fear ran through Miss Lindsay.

She leaped to her feet and stared with shining eyes
in the direction of the sound.

“T think I saw something falling,” said one of the
men, whose eyes were keen. ‘“He’s shot something—
some kind of a bird, I guess!”

“But it may be a warning signal,” urged Miss Lind-
say.

They ceased the work of parking the wagons to dis-
_cuss the rifle-shot.

Some of them climbed upon the wagons, and one of
them, taking a horse, rode out over the rough ground
in the direction of the ridge where one of their number
believed he had seen a falling bird.

Miss Lindsay scrambled to the top of the highest
wagon and strained her bright eyes to determine the
occasion of that shot. B

Then, while the camp was thus giving all its atten-
tion in the direction of the hill occupied at thesmoment
by California Joe and Buffalo Bill, who had come to-
gether there, but were not visible to the people of the
- wagon-train, a chorus of wild yells arose, and half the
men of the train fell dead, shot down by a volley from
the near-by hills.

_ This was followed by a wild rush of painted redskins,
who came on, howling like fiends and shooting with
their rifles and bows.

The surprised men of the wagon-train attempted to
rally.

They rushed to get their weapons, and began to shoot
at the oncoming redskins. They were demoralized,
however, by the suddenness of the unexpected attack;
and, though they were brave, they were at a terrible dis-
advantage. \.

The rattle of the rifle fire and the yells of the red-
skins made a very pandemonium.

Mingled with this were the screams of the startled
women and children.

Townsend, the young wagon-master, was as brave as
the bravest. He tried to get his men down behind the

half-formed wagon barricade and to keep them from
wild shooting.

 

THE BUPPALO BILL STORIES.

=

veteran.

But, in order to encourage the defenders, he unduly

exposed himself, and fell, shot through the brain.

Miss Julia Lindsay, whose fear of an Indian attack
had caused the wagons to be partly parked, was standing
close by him when he fell.

At the moment she had her arms round one of the
shrieking women, trying to quiet her.

Now she leaped forward, and, catching up the re-
peating rifle that had fallen from Townsend’s lifeless
hands, she aimed it at the painted face of the redskin
who at the moment was climbing over the nearest
wagon.

With the explosion of the weapon he pitched from
the wagon, falling within the barricade, howling as he
fell, and then rolling over on his back, where his up-
turned, hideous face lay bathed in the bright sunshine.

At the same moment the other Indians charged
through and over the barricade, shooting and yelling;
and though the riflemen swung their clubbed rifles and
tried to beat them off, the thing was impossible.

It was too horrible for print.

But it was all over in a minute.

A few of the women and children were left alive, :

having been spared by the victorious savages.

Miss Lindsay closed her eyes to shut out the horrid
sight; but opened them, with a shriek, when she felt
brawny arms round her waist.

She had been seized by one of the Indians; and he
was attempting to drag her out of the barricade.

She fought him with her nails, and he threw her
from him, drawing a tomahawk as if he meant to brain
her.

A form came leaping toward him—a form as hideous
as he was himself; but when he beheld this chief, ‘whose
feathers were of the gaudiest, he fell back. -

What happened after that Miss Lindsay did not know;
for she dropped in a dead faint.

 

CHAP TER Til:

AFTER THE FIGHT.

The one man who had ridden from the barricade‘and |

tried to escape was cut down in his wild flight by a
rifle-ball.

His horse, running wild, was caught by old California
Joe, as the latter rushed down the hill.

Behind him California Joe heard the pounding hoofs
of the horse ridden by Buffalo Bill.

Without waiting, the old hunter and guide leaped into

the vacated saddle and rode hurriedly for the camp of

the wagon-train. q
Buffalo Bill, with a horse that was speedier, overtook

-him before it was reached.

a
x
5

He fired himself with the coolness and precision of a ~ I

 

a
q

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

THE BUPPALO BIL: STORIES.

When they arrived there they found the savages gone,
the camp wagons burning, and dead men and dead
horses piled about in confusion,

California Joe «groaned alouff
“My heavens, Buffler!” was all he could say. at first.

The scout had seen many such sights, yet they always
moved him as if beheld for the first time. Indignation
burned in his heart—a white-hot indignation, that made
him wish to rush after the murderous redskins and wipe
them out at one stroke.

Caution held the desire in check:

Those Indians were crafty and they were merciless.

The manner in which they had descended on the
wagon-train told that. Even at the moment when Cali-
fornia Joe, experienced as he was, had not been willing
to believe that hostile Indians were within many miles,
or that the Modocs had dug up the bloody hatchet,
this murderous band was creeping on the camp.

The thought that he had not been there, that perhaps
his carelessness had exposed the wagon-train to this,
shook him until he groaned a in an outburst of
anguish.

Buffalo Bill was glancing at the hills and at the plain
trail which showed there. The Modocs, after sacking
the train, had carried away many things, and their trail
as they departed was as plain as a wagon road,

His eyes were withdrawn from the hills, and fell on
the bowed form of California Joe.

He was filled with great pity for the man he had long
held as his friend, and who was known as one of the
best guides and most, capable of Indian fighters.

“Joe!” he said.

“Buffler, I don’t see how I kin stand it!
hyar, er ef [d——”

“Tf you had been here, Joe, you would have been
killed, too!”

“Tt must ’a’ been my fault, Buffler; I’m afeared it was
my fault!”

“Listen to me, Joe!”

“Yes, Buffler.”

“Be thankful you were not here. You would have
been wiped out with the others. A few more murder-
ing redskins would have fallen, I don’t doubt, but you
would have been killed. Now you are alive, and can
help me in the work that’s to be done.”

“But, Bufflér

“T know how you feel.”

“You can’t, Buffler! No man kin!”

“Yes, I know how you feel. You were not to blame
in this, and

“Buffler, I didn’t believe ther thing was possible.”

“T should have thought the same a few hours ago.
But, you see, the impossible has happened again. The
Modocs have been here and done their bloody work,

Ef Yd been

and are gone.

They’ve carried away some women and
children, I think; but I believe all the men are killed,”

“Every one,’ said California Joe, looking about with
anguished face, “Thar’s the wagon-master, and a braver
boy never lived. An’ thar’s Rackback Jones, the ole
Injun fighter that I’ve campaigned with many a day.”

“And you would have been lying there with Rack-
back, if you had been at the camp when the Indian rush
was made.”

“T mout have been, Buffler.”

_ “The women were the wives of the train men, I sup-
pose?”

“All but one, Buffler.”

“And who was she?”

“Miss Lindsay. And ther bravest and purtiest young
woman that ever I see. Buffler, she was as handsome
and gritty as an eagle. Townsend, ther wagon-master,
was dead gone on her, too, Buffler.”

“It would have been better for her if she had been
killed when he was, unless we can in some way rescue
her. She was his sweetheart, I suppose?”

“T don’t think she keered fer him, Buffler, though he
war dead gone on her. She didn’t have any thought fer
any one but a brother that she had come out hyar ter
look fer. And a funny thing about that, Buffler, is that
she believed her brother war with them Modocs.”

“With the Modocs?”

“As a pris’ner, Buffler. It war a cur’us story, as she
tole it. He’d gone among them as a sort of medical
missionary, and then.had been lost sight of. He war one
o’ these hyar pious gents, I take it, that thinks they kin
make Injun nature over by a leetle prayer-book exer-
cise. So he went up among ’em, and disappeared.
That war a year er more ago; and when it war found
that no track of him could be got at by anybody, she
come out hyar ’specially to look fer him herself.”

The old hunter and guide began 'to survey with more
placidity of mind the death and ruin about him. He

- moved here and there, talking as he thus inspected. the

wrecked camp.

“Queer about that, Buffler, that she should ’a’ been
captured by ther very tribe that she’d heerd war holdin’
her brother !”

“Very strange, in a sense,” said the scout. “It’s my
opinion, Joe, that these redskins will make straight for
their holes in the lava beds. Once they are safely there
a regiment of soldiers can’t drive them out. If we had
some troopers right now to drive a hot. pursuit we might

39

_do something; but as it is, Joe, 1 suppose we-shall have

to play a lone hand.”

“Buffler,” cried California Joe fiercely, “I’m ready ter
foller them redskins ter ther jumpin’-off place! If you'll
lead on, Buffler, I’m with ye, no matter what comes of
se

“Hark!”

 
         
        
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
   
   
    
  
   
  
 
   

  

SS,
LF

6

 

The scout; who had been about to dismount, straight-
ened in his saddle and put up his hand.

The sounds of rapidly galloping horses reached them.

Sitting silently in their saddles, Buffalo Bill and old
California Joe listened to the noise of drumming hoofs.

Then Buffalo Bill wheeled his horse round and passed
quickly through the broken wagon barricade.

The old hunter came close behind him, and both rode
in the direction of the sound.

~ troopers, Butter?’

Pa Deueye SO. 8 1.

“Thank Heaven, Buffler!”’

“It’s providential, at this time.”

Then over the rise, where they had been themselves
a short time before, and along the beaten wagon-trail;
came a cavalcade of mounted soldiers from the nearest
military post, twenty in number, led by a lieutenant.

They came on with that easy grace of horsemanship
produced by much experience in the saddle. Saber-
seabbards were clanking in the midst of the drumming of
the hoofs, and the sunlight glanced brightly from the
barrels of their short cavalry carbines.

Old California Joe could hardly repress a yell, when
he rode toward them.

The troopers halted, recognizing Buffalo Bill.

Soon the scout and the old hunter were in their midst,
hurriedly explaining the situation.

An eager fire flashed from the eyes of the young lieu-
tenant.

“Then we were too late, but still in time for the pur-
suit! We heard the Modocs had broken out and were
threatening this trail, and we were sent to head them
off. We've ridden from the post since a little before
midnight.”

-The men could hardly repress their cheers for the
scout, whom all admired.

And when the young lieutenant announced that Buf-
falo Bill and California Joe would lead them in a pur-

suit of the Indians who had attacked the wagon-train, .,

and gave the order for a “‘double-quick,” their delight
in the prospect of a brush with the cowardly and mur-
derous redskins showed itself in their faces and manner.

“The Modocs are sure to strike into the San Mateo
cut-off?” said Buffalo Bill, with a questioning inflection,
speaking to California Joe.

“Buffler, I think it. It’s ther shortest way fer? em,
and they’ll be wantin’ ter hit a bee-line now fer the lava
beds, ter git under kiver soon’s they kin.”

“Then we heedn’t go back to the camp to take the
trail there. We'll turn aside here. If we ride hard we
may trap them as they emerge from the cut-off.”

This “cut-off’ was a deep, cafionlike cleft, which,
striking straight across the country away from the trail,
and bisecting one or two big hills, made a short, though

‘rough, path toward the lava beds, saving a dozen miles,

THE BUPFALO

 

Dibb STORIES:

that would have to be gone over if the upper, level”

country was chosen.

Hampered by the plunder from the wagon-train and
by their prisoners, the Medocs would not be able to beat
a rapid retreat; and this fact the scout was counting on;

“for the route he now thought of taking was much longer

than that of the San Mateo cut-off.

But the light-riding troopers, he knew, ought to cover
it in such quick time that the chances of trapping the
Modocs as they came out of the cut-off seemed good.

The scout and the old hunter rode with the lieutenant,
at the head of the little cavalcade.

They were forced to proceed somewhat slowly through
the rough country bordering the trail. But when they
reached the more level land, where the base of the lava
hills was parklike in its open sweep, they swung into a
swift gallop that took them over the ground at wonder-
ful speed.

 

CHAPTER TY.
AN AMBUSCADE.

But when the farther end of the San Mateo cut-off
was reached, they found that the Modocs, anticipating
pursuit, had hastened so rapidly in their flight that they
had already passed through.

Se Rr SOE Re ee

The trail was plain there, however, and they began to
follow it, keeping now a sharp watch against an am-
buscade.

Soon they struck the lava ridges.

Here the sheet of lava from an ancient volcano lay
spread out over miles of territory. Not a bush or tree
grew on its gray-black surface, which in places resem-
bled pitted black glass. There were rifts, or cracks, in
it, some of them deep and wide enough to bury a house,
yet invisible at a short distance.

Many miles farther on were the Cale lava beds,
filled with curious cavernlike holes and winding galleries,
to which the Moedocs were in the habit of retreating

when hotly pursued, and from which it was almost use-—

less to attempt to dislodge them.

The Modocs, having passed through the cut-off safely,
were evidently making for the lava beds at top speed.

Lieutenant Johnson, the young officer in command,
was for pushing straight across the lava sheet toward
the distant lava beds.

“We know the direction, Cody, and we can overtake
them by hard riding and cut them to pieces.”

Old California Joe squinted his homely face into a

“look of misgiving.

“Leftenant,” he said courteously, “I don’t knows about
that thar.”

He glanced at Buffalo Bill for confirmation of his dis-
trust.

 
 

. THE BUFFALO

“You doubt its advisability?” questioned tHe. lieuten-
ant, with flushing face.

“T looks fer an ambush ef we tries it.”

“Then what would you do? We can’t stand here!
Those rascals will be in the lava beds before dark, and
then where are we?”

“We'd still have our sculps on our heads, leftenant !’”

Lieutenant Johnson tried hard to hide his displeasure.
This displeasure he had felt from the first, though he
had concealed it. It had not been pleasant for him to
“surrender practically the guidance of the troopers of his
command to Buffalo Bill and this old htinter. Having
started out gunning for redskins, he wished, if he suc-
ceeded in bagging any, that his should be the glory of
the feat. Now he knew it would be said that the suc-
cess of the expedition, if it succeeded, had been brought
about because Buffalo Bill and California Joe were the
guides who led it. He was ambitious, and disliked be-
ing thus relegated to the rear. He reasoned that he
would have struck the wrecked wagon-train camp, any-
way, and would have followed the Modocs of his own
accord. He believed he could have overtaken them in
the cut-off. Hence, he felt that already useless time
had been wasted. Now, apparently, there was to be a
hesitating movement which should dissipate more valua-
ble time.

“T’m for riding hot after them, straight across this
lava, and charging them as soon as we see them,” he
declared. :

The scout had dismounted and was examining the lava,
looking for the vanished hoof-marks of the Indian
ponies; hence, he did not hear all of this, and was not
paying much attention to it.

The veins on the young officer’s forehead swelled
angrily and his eyes flashed. He anticipated that Buf-
falo Bill’s opinion would coincide with that of Cali-
fornia Joe. So he said hotly, before: the scout ‘could
speak his mind:

“My instructions are to strike the Modocs and destroy
them, and [ mean to do it.”

“That's what we’re hoping to do, Lieutenant John-
son,’ said the scout, looking up.

“Then mount your horse and we'll ride hot after
them !”
“Tf you'll permit me to express an opinion,” re-
marked the scout slowly, “1 will say that I quite agree
with California Joe, that a straight-ahead pursuit would
be rash just now. They have doubtless sighted us from
one of those peaks, and their scouts will keep us in
view, you may be sure.”
_ “Then, what is your advice?”
Lieutenant Johnson could not repress the impatience
of his words,

“That we follow the -trail slowly, picking it up as we
go along, and keeping a sharp watch for an ambuscade,

 

BILL. STORIES.

There’s likely to be a trap set for us in one of the lava
clefts.”

“And that will let the redskins reach those holes a

the lava beds, and then we’re out of the game!”

“We can’t prevent them from reaching the lava beds
now, lieutenant. That was plain as soon as we knew
they had beaten us to this end of the cut-off. They hur-
ried on to this lava sheet; and now, following them is
going to be almost as difficult as it would be to trail
them over asphalt pavements.”

“Then, what in the name of Heaven are we to do?”

“T've just told you.”

The scout was mounting his horse, and the troopers
sat impatiently listening to this colloquy.

“T am willing to admit your skill, Cody; but I con-
fess that I can’t think highly of the opinion of a guide

who leaves his wagon-train "and permits Indians to steal
on it while he is away shooting at hawks to display his
marksmanship!”

The insult was so gross and offensive that the face
of California Joe turned. deathly white, and then as red
as his beard and hair, while his horny hands shook on
his clutched rifle... A hot fire leaped to his eyes.

But in a moment he again had control of himself.

“Buffler,” he said, his voice trembling slightly in
spite of his self-control, “I waives my opinion in this hyar
matter altogether. Fer I war dead in ther wrong in
leavin’ ther wagon-train. I ain’t denyin’ it; and ever
sense I’ve felt that the blood o’ them murdered creeturs
war on my soul!”

Buffalo Bill’s face had also colored. The insult to his
friend was an offense against himself, also.

Yet Lieutenant Johnson was in command of the
troopers, and he was only the scout, whose duty it was
to pick. up and follow the trail and advise by sugges-
tions. re

““T still insist, lieutenant,” he urged, “that it would not
be wise to hasten straight on after the Indians. My

_ friend is right, and I side with him in this.”
“You'd let the Modocs gain the lava beds, where they

could laugh at the best we could then do against them?”

“I'd try strategy against them, hoping in that way to
rescue the prisoners, even out of the lava beds.
thought is chiefly of those women and children.”

“So is mine. And straight ahead it is. I’m in com-
mand here, and that’s my order.”

The scout bowed,

“Very well. You. are in command hereJ’

“You will still lead us?”

The lieutenant really hoped Buffalo Bill would refuse
to do that. He thought he knew the way to the lava
beds now, and if he overtook and defeated the Modocs
he wanted the glory alone.

But to his chagrin and surprise the scout answered: .

“It is my duty to submit and obey, when my opinion

My :

 
   

   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
 
  
 
   
  
   
 

    
 

 

 

 

8 THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

conflicts with that of the commanding officer. I will do
my best to guide you in the pursuit and avoid am-
buscades.’”’ oe

The men knew it was not the thing to do, but they
could hardly resist swinging their hats, and a few of
them cheered lightly, and met the frowning reproof of
the lieutenant.

“Then, forward!’ was the command.

Having, as it were, taken the bit in his teeth, Lieu-
tenant Johnson led the way now, with reckless speed.

At his side rode the scout.

Just behind them came California Joe, who had
dropped back. He was sensitive, in spite of his rough
outward appearance, and his pride had been cut to the
quick. Worst of all, this sensitiveness made him be-
lieve the reproof not undeserved; and he continued to
accuse himself of the blackest crimes in the calendar
because he had been absent when the wagon-train was
- attacked, and had not been sufficiently alert and sus-
picious to prevent it.

Following California Joe rode the troopers, by fours,
their tanned faces eager for the fray.

In spite of the lieutenant’s desire for haste, wide
detours had to be made now and then, to get round rifts
in the lava, which lay directly across their path.

Not a sign of the enemy could be detected, and only
occasionally could the scout see a place that looked as
if a horse had passed over it. |

Ahead were some lava ridges, with bushes and grass
growing in earth-filled crevices. .

“They’re waiting for us in those hills, Cody, if any-
where,’ said the lieutenant confidently.

He fancied that his superior judgment was being
proved; for, so far, all had gone well, and they had
certainly made lightning speed across the glassy wastes.

Then they found themselves unexpectedly on the edge
of a’sheer rift in the lava rock, the rift forming a big
Y at this point.

_ All unaware of it, they had ridden between the two
prongs of the Y. Thus there was a rift on each side of
them and one in front.

From these three points a deadly fire was poured into
them, without a word of warning. _

The Y-shaped crevice was swarming with Modoc war-
tiors, who fired over the edge of the lava rock, adding
their wild yells to the crackle of their rifles.

_ The troopers, caught thus between three fires, hud-
dled together, some of them falling, with their horses.

Lieutenant Johnson’s horse dropped at the first fire,
pitching the rash young officer to the ground, where he
fell sprawling.

A feathered brave sprang, with desperate courage, out
of the crevice at the junction of the Y and sought to
scalp him; but was shot dead by the redoubtable scout.

‘Buffalo Bill was about to fling himself out of the sad-

die and go to the aid of the lieutenant at the risk of his

own life, when he saw that officer shot and killed as

he tried to rise.

The scout yelled an order to retreat.

It was hardly needed.

~ The troopers, panic-stricken, with half their number
down or dead, were jammed together between the horns
of the Y and trying to back away from the rifle fire Lae
spat at them from every side.

Buffalo Bill backed his horse out, following them,
though’ more troopers fell while this maneuver was be-
ing executed. «

California Joe shot an Indian who leaped at the scout’s
bridle.

Then, in a tangled mass, the men and horses left
alive escaped from the ea trap into which they had
run.

Buffalo Bill and old California Joe ore “the wild
retreat as well as they could, shooting at the Indians
who now swarmed out of the Y.

The troopers rode madly, lashing their horses. They
were courageous men, but they were now demoralized.
Death was behind them, and they thought only of flight,
for flight seemed the only thing possible.

Less than ten of them escaped across the lava wastes,
with Buffalo Bill and California Joe still holding back
as well as they could the triumphant pursuit of the
Modocs, .*

“Buffler, we’ve got ter scatter hyar, whar we kin,
er we'll be all wiped out!”, said the old hunter. |

“You're right, Joe!” the scout responded.

His horse was bleeding from a dozen wounds and
could hardly go, and the animal ridden by California
Joe was. tottering on its feet.

Hence, near the point where the cut-off ended, fe
abandoned the horses that had served them so well, and
ran for.the shelter of the bush-covered ridges. .

The troopers, whose horses were still in good condi-
tion, were riding in mad flight through the cut-off.
The scout and the hunter had _ sacrificed their own
horses and imperiled their own lives to give them a
chance to do this.

Few men were better able to thread their way doe
a difficult region and find hiding-places that would baf-
fle trailers than the scout and the old hunter who was
now his sole companion.

- They. concealed their trail. on the lava slopes; and
then, descending into the cut-off, they found a niche
high up on one of its sides, where they crouched, hoping
that they would not be discovered there.

A little later they saw the pursuing Modocs Hide
wildly through ne sg in pt of the few fleeing
troopers.

“Buffler,” said California Joe, “turn a locomotive loose
on a broken track and it’s shore bound ter go inter ther

mean i ak tN eA Bete ademas: (75

 

   
sh loan la ae al a ae

 

  
 

bea

eee ee eater aeeeee= oe acon peetieaese ae te sme nearer ne ease een tage a eee a i senile Bis Tae e

ditch. That war us ter-day.
St ot

“Yes, it was disastrous.”

“In a smash-up o’ that kind it’s giner’ly the ingineer
that gits killed.. Ther leftenant went under.. But what
I’m thinkin’ most about is them women and childern, and
specially Miss Lindsay. May ther Lord help ’em, fer
we can't.”

And he groaned, even while he watched the pursuit
of the troopers by the victorious Indians.

 

CHAPTER VY,
TWO MODOC CAPTIVES,

Buffalo Bill feared he would be blamed at the fort
for the disaster which had overtaken the troopers. In
spite of the fact that the lieutenant in command had in-
sisted on his own will in the matter, Buffalo Bill was
the scout whose duty it was to guard against ambush.

_ That he had not been able to-do so, though he had
tried hard enough, was not his fault, yet it might be
imputed to him as a fault.

From their niche he and California Joe watched the
cut-off and such portions of the lava slopes as were in
range of their vision.

Now and then, on the lava ridges, they beheld a
crawling form, and occasionally am eagle feather bobbed
into view on the slope over which they had passed.

All of this proved that their horses had been found
and identified, and that the Modocs were trying to lo-
cate them.

The day passed slowly.

Fewer evidences were seen of the presence of Indians
with the passage of the hours. Yet the scout cand the
guide would not venture from their place of conceal-
ment, well knowing the craftiness of the foe they had
to deal with. At a moment when it might be supposed
that not an enemy was within miles, it was possible
that dozens were within a score of yards.

Just at sunset two of the Modocs who had followed
the troopers came riding back through the cut-off. One
of them earried a bloody aap dangling on the end of
his long lance. ~~

- Somewhat to the surprise of the scout and the hunter,

these returning Modocs went into camp at the entrance
of the cut-off.and there kindled a fire, showing that they
probably meant to remain all night.
_ “Which shows,” said the scout, -‘‘that* they feel sure
the main body has reached the lava beds long before this
and that no other Modocs are now round here. You
know we. haven’t seen signal-smoke anywhere.”

“They hain’t the leastest idee, Buffler, that we’re tp
hyar.”

“No.”

“Ner in a hundred miles!”

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

I feared it fore we sot

“T know what you’re thinking about.”
“Could we do it, Buffler ?”

The scout’s eyes sparkled with eagerness.

“We may think it worth while to try it later.”

“After ther reds has snuggled down fer ther night
and air asleep?” \

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

The scout took out his field-glasses, which he had
carried through all in a case swung from his shoulders,
and, adjusting them, studied the Modocs in camp, being
careful that the last rays of the setting sun should not
shine on the glasses and reveal the position of himself
and his friend to the keen eyes of the Indians.

“They’re tired, and so are their horses, and that’s why
they’ve camped. They gave the troopers a long chase.”

“And killed and sculped one of ’em, Buffler!’

“VYes;-and, I think, lost some of their own men.
Those troopers will fight.”

“They kin run, all right!” said California Joe, with
a trace of bitterness, for he remembered the stinging
reproof of the young lieutenant.

“We'll slip out of this place as soon as it’s dark
enough,” said the scout, as he put away the glasses.
“I see just how we can get near that camp, and I think
we can do it without making a noise?’

“It’s ther trick, Buffler; ef we kin work it!”

As soon as the shelf where they crouched was buried
in shadow they crept down the sides of the cut-off, de-
scending carefully and with difficulty. 4

It required nearly an hour of hard work for them to
teach the cut-off trail, by merely following which they
could arrive at the Modoc camp.

The sun had long since cast his last red light on the
high cliffs, and the shadows in the cut-off were deep
when the scout and old California Joe crept forward. —

The Indian camp-fire had not yet died out, and"two of
the Indians were sitting before the fire, talking and
smoking their pipes.

Most. Indians do not like to travel by night, and usu-
ally do not do so unless urged by strong motives, such
as the desire to steal upot. a foe or to escape from one;

and it was pretty certain, -herefore, that these Modocs

would not move before morning.

Having sighted the camp, Buffalo Bill and California
Joe lay flat on their stomachs, some distance away, and
talked in whispers so low that they could not have been
heard two yards off.

“Tf we can make prisoners of those ie and take
them to the fort, we shall be in position to treat for the
prisoners held now in the lava beds,” remarked the scout,
repeating what he had said a dozen times since it was

known that the Modocs were encamped here for the

night. “They are both chiefs.”
“Right ye air, Buffler; and I’m wi’ ye to the end!”

 

 

 

   
     
      
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
 
   
    
  
   
        
       
10

For two long hours the scout and the hunter lay
tlere.

They watched the camp- -fire as it died out; and they
saw the two Modocs dispose themselves for the night.

Foolishly enough, the Modocs felt no. uneasiness or
anxiety, such as would cause one of them to stand
guard. They had seen the soldiers scamper away like
scared rabbits, and the post was too far off for troopers
to come from there at once. Hence, it seemed 6 them
that there was nothing to be afraid of. As for Buffalo
Bill and California Joe, they fancied they had been
frightened out of the country, or killed.

So they wrapped themselves in their blankets, and
law down to dream of the praises they would receive
from the Modoc women when they were once again
safe in the fastnesses of the lava beds.

When sure that the Indians were asleep, Buffalo. Bill
and California Joe began their movement, which was
a snakelike crawl upon the camp.

They proceeded so slowly that if any one could have
seen them, that. one might have been pardoned for
thinking they did not move at all.

But it was the slow and steady progress that tells in
the end.

The Modocs were, they knew, light sleepers, and any
haste now .might spoil everything.
- They had some rawhide thongs and nooses ready.

The chiefs were attacked by the two friends at the
same time.

The one upon whom Buffalo Bill threw himself was
a giant in size and strength, and, though taken at such
a disadvantage, he made a fierce fight, sending out a
gurgling cry for help as soon as he knew he was in
the grasp of an enemy.

The Modoc attacked by. California Joe was smaller
and more wiry. Though not so strong as the big Cali-
fornian, he yet possessed a certain slipperiness and
strength that made him a tough customer to deal with;.

and the old hunter found himself engaged in about as:

fierce a combat as he had ever been mixed up in.

Not until they had been literally choked into insensi-
bility did the Indians cease to struggle.

“Waugh! But this hyar feller fit like a she b’ar!”
the old hunter panted, as he placed the thongs on the
wrists and ankles of the chief he had subdued, breath-
ing heavily as he did so. “Buffler, I didn’t know one
time but I’d bit off more’n I could chaw. I fit a wildcat
onct wi’ my naked hands, and he warn’t a sarcumstance
ter this critter.”

said the scout, as he, too, tied
his captive, who lay insensible now, breathing in heavy,
choking snorts.

“°*Twouldn’t been no job at all ter ude © em, Buffler,
but this hyar war some considdable diffrunt.”

“Watch them, and I’ll look to the ponies!”

“The same over here,”

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

Having secured his captive, Buffalo Bill now rose to
his feet and walked out to where the Indian ponies were
lariated for the night.

The ponies: had stopped their nibbling at the grass,
and were standing with ears pricked forward, having
heard the sounds of the struggles by the camp-fire. —

They leaped away and ran round in circles to the
length of their tethers, when the scout approached them.

It was a good thing they had been lariated securely,
for they would have broken loose otherwise. ©

The scout drew. out the wooden picket-pins, tied the
ponies together, placed on their backs the rawhide In-
dian substitutes for saddles, and in their mouths the raw-
hide-thong bridles; and then led them, snorting, up to
the camp-fire.

By this time the captive chiefs were returning to a
knowledge of the world, discovering that they were
prisoners of white men, and that the outlook for them
was tather dark; for they, not being in the habit of
showing mercy to prisoners, expected none for them-
selves. If California Joe, who sat guarding them with
ready rifle, had stepped forward to drive a tomahawk into
their brains he would not have done wrong, according
to their code. They would have done that to him, if
their positions were reversed.

But when they now saw that the ponies had been
brought up, they perceived that their fate was not to be
immediate death, but, rather, captivity.

The big chief, who had recovered soonest, and whose
faculties were almost completely restored by this time,
began to taunt California Joe, hoping thereby to induce
the old mountaineer to kill him at once; for, to his mind,
to be carried a captive of the white men to the white
men’s fort was the worst fate that could befall him.. It.
held for’ him an ignominy greater than death at the
hands of these enemies.

So he reviled California Joe; he told old Joe that his
mother was the great-great-grandmother of all the
witches of the hills, and that his father was a dog of so
low an origin that every other dog would run from
him on sight. He assured California Joe that he was
a coward, .with heart so white that the snow of the:

- mountains was: black by comparison; and that, instead

of going to the happy hunting-grounds when he died,
he would go to a region where hideous beasts would
gore him with cruel horns through all the ages.

When this had no effect, he began to invent vile
epithets, which he hurled at old Joe with great spirit.

Old California Joe writhed under this castigation; for
he had been so long among Indians that he had im-
bibed a good deal of their feelings, and taunts such as
these stung him more than they would have another
man.

‘Yet he remained: impassive, and seemed not to hear
the chief’s ravings. 4

 
|

 

————

 

 

 

Then the chief turned upon Buffalo Bill, reviling him
with epithets which would have driven an Indian mad.

He assured the scout that the Modocs considered the
Long Hair the most cowardly of men; that he was so
cowardly he would run when he saw the smoky steam
from the nostrils of a sick deer. Moreover, he was so
vile and contemptible that when his shadow fell upon
the grass the grass straightway withered and died of
rage, because it had been polluted by that shadow.

The other Indian, roused by this, added to the casti-
gation, both heaping up epithets until imagination and
hate could do no more.

California Joe sat breathing heavily, fingering the trig-
ger of his rifle, hardly able to withstand this stream of
abuse; but the scout merely smiled at the mad ravings
of the desperate chieftains, and went on with his hurried
preparations.

“Now, up with this one!” he said, at length, to Cali-
fornia Joe.

The old mountain-man rose, with a jerk of relief.

“Waugh! Glad ye spoke, Buffler, fer I shore don’t
know but that in another instunt I’d been fillin’ ther
cusses wi’ bullets. A man can’t stand ever’thing, yer
know. Did.yer hear ’em?”

The scout laughed.

“My ears are dead, Joe, to talk like that.”

“Waugh! It makes me bile hot like steam all through
my innards ter hear ’em! Ef you hadn’t been hyar, I
don’t reckon I could er stood it at all.”

The smaller of the Indians was hoisted to the back of
a pony, where he was tied in position by one of the In-
dian lariats.

Then the larger Indian was Bare on a pony, and tied
in the same way.

The prisoners continued to revile Buffalo Bill and
California Joe, much to the annoyance of the latter, still
hoping to drive the white men into such a rage that they
would kill them.

Buffalo Bill merely, laughed.
Old California Joe raved at times, and restrained him-
self with difficulty.

“Buffler, you know how ’tis ter have a man call ye a
liar? Waal, that ain’t a patchin’ ter this! Seems ter me
I can’t stand it sometimes !”

“Let them rave; we'll do the laughing. And now I’m
ready to move toward the fort, if you are.”

“Ready hyar, Buffler.”

They mounted the Indian ponies, behind the prisoners,
and set out through the pass of the San Mateo cut-off.

That the prisoners might not escape, a lariat was
noosed round the neck of each, and attached to the sad-
dle of the white man who rode behind him.

Thus they took up their journey, the Modocs still re-
viling and fuming with anger and fear,

eee ee A eae Siam oe.

ben

PSE RT TL Ne ph a rnp

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. II

When daylight came, the fort was before them, show-
ing a stir of life.
Buffalo Bill sang out to the guard, and the latter chal-

lenged:
“Who goes there?” .
The answer rang out clearly:
“W. F. Cody and California Joe, with Modoc pris-

oners!”’

 

CHAPTER: VI.
AT THE FORT.

No one was more astonished to behold Buffalo Bill
than Colonel Granger, the commandant of the post.

“Cody! he cried, coming forward, after the scout
and California Joe had been permitted to pass through
the gates with their prisoners.

Granger’s face was beaming with pleasure, and his
hand was extended. He had risen but a few minutes be-
fore, and had hardly completed dressing.

“The troopers, those who got back, reported that you
had been killed near the lava beds! We have made
preparations to send a stronger force in pursuit, and
that’s why I am up so early, and the camp, too. Cody,
you’re welcome !”

The scout introduced California Joe, and then spoke
of the prisoners, who sat silent and sullen, blinking owl-
ishly.

Soldiers had gathered round them.

“This has been a sad affair, Cody,’ Granger went on.
“Truly, a sad affair. The loss of Lieutenant Johnson is
to be deplored. He was a gallant and capable young
officer. Not half of the score of troopers he took out
returned. All the rest are killed, 1 suppose.. But won’t
you dismount, Cody ?”

“T should like to have the prisoners held in the guard-
house, Colonel Granger,’ said the scout. “And it will
be well to give them breakfast, if they’re not too stub-
born to eat. I have a plan in connection with them.”

“You didn’t capture them in the fight?”

“No. I'll tell you about that soon.”

He was dismounting.

California Joe slid off the back of his pony.

The prisoners were taken in charge by the soldiers.

The animals were led away, to be stabled and fed, and
the scout and the old mountaineer followed Colonel Gran- —
ger into the post headquarters.

There the colonel ordered breakfast for all; and while
they were eating it Buffalo Bill told his story, to which
California Joe added sundry characteristic comments.

“T dunno, colonel, but it’d be ther proper thing fer me
ter jump fer some city, and become a common, no-nose
citerzen, sense this hyar has happened,” old Joe admitted.
“T feels like a shepherd dog that’s let the wolves git inter

his flock. 1 ain’t any excuses ter make fer myself. 1

 
  

THE BUFFALO

reckon ef I’d done my whole and bounden duty ther
Modocs wouldn’t massacreed ther waggin-train.”
Granger was a smooth-faced, middle-aged’ man, and
was noted as being something of an army martinet. He
had no use for a rough old hunter who dressed like a tat-
tered hermit and so wofully mispronouticed his words.
However, he contrived to conceal this; and California
Joe talked on, exculpating himself as well as he could,

while at the same time condemning himself with un- .

sparing severity.

“It’s ther women and childern that air ha’ntin’ me,
cunnel!” he declared” pathetically.
chance ter sleep sense ther thing happened, but I know
that when I does close my eyes fer a few winks I’m
goin’ ter see them women and childern standin’ right in
front of me. But I ain’t give up savin’ ’em yit.”

“And that’s what we want to talk of,” urged the
scout. “About those women and children.”

Outside, the blare of trumpets was heard, and men
were moving about hurriedly.

“If you haven’t had any sleep, Cody
began, but was cut short by the scout.
“That doesn’t matter in the least.
as soon as the troopers are. But we’ve got to accom-
plish the release of those prisoners in some other manner

than by fighting.”

“We couldn’t take the lava beds?”

“Not without heavy loss, if at all; and that wouldn’t
save the prisoners. The Modocs would simply kill them,
if they found they couldn’t hold them.

“And that brings me to explain why California Joe
and I captured these two Modoc chiefs and brought them
here. We want to try to exchange them for the white
prisoners held by the Modocs.”

Colonel ‘Granger’s face beamed.

“Just the thing, Cody! If it can be done.
in communication with them?”

PNVG cantry it.”

“Very true. “And I'll go with you, or go with the
troopers.”’

He rose from the table, and gave an order to a man
beyond the door.

 

” the colonel

Can we get

“Cody, we'll see what we can do. If we have to
charge the lava beds, we’ll do that, too. Those women
and children must be rescued, and Lieutenant Johnson
avenged.”

Though a martinet, Colonel ae had courage of
the most pronounced quality. The fact that a man wears
good clothing, delights in keeping himself well-dressed,
and is touchy about the etiquette due him from his in-
feriors, is no proof at all that he will not fight, or lacks
bravery. There wasn’t a braver man on the border than
Colonel Granger, in spite of his failings, if they may-~be
so called, in other directions.

A further consultation was. now held, which was de-

ra ain't. hadeany

I’m ready to start :

 

Bil, STORIES.

voted to details; and here it was finally decided that the
scout and California Joe should precede a heavy body
of troopers, and try to get into communication with the
Modocs in the lava beds.
The Modoc chiefs should be held with the troopers,

and the latter would be under the immediate command —

of Colonel Granger.

Points of rendezvous were fixed and times of meeting
agreed on.

Not more than an hour was consumed between the
time of the arrival of Buffalo Bill and California Joe and
the time in which they again passed through the strong
gates and turned the heads of their horses toward the
mountains.

They had good horses under them, were well armed,
carried a plentiful supply of ammunition, and ther sad-
dle-pouches were filled with food. ,

“Buffler,” said old California Joe seriously, with a
shake of his auburn head, ‘“‘thar’s reckless times ahead
of us, and, whether we git back ter ther land o’ white
men ag’in is a question that I ain’t tryin’ ter determine.”

 

CHARI ET. Val.

IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.

California has been called the land of wonders. It
has marvelous and fertile valleys, the vast sunken val-
ley of the Yosemite being considered one of the marvels
of the New World; it has forests of the largest trees
known to-day on the earth; it has been one of the world’s
greatest gold producers, and to-day stands unrivaled as
the home of fruits and flowers; at has, in some sections,
a climate that is almost tropical, and in other sections
great mountain peaks and ranges that are the home of
glaciers.

Xét throughout its length and breadth its region of
extinct craters and lava beds is, perhaps, as wonderful
as any other of its possessions.

Buffalo Bill and old California jee had plunged into
this strange region. |

SY ou nas Been ter Crater take) Cody ?” asked the old
hunter, as they rode on, after many hours of wearing
horseback exercise. 7

“More than once.”

“Waal,-it. air certin a curus Oneal: Thar is’a lake in
a round hole in ther mountain-top, which the book-schol-
ars calls an extink crater. ‘Thar it sets, jes’ like clear
water in a big black cup, wi’ cliff walls risin’ round it,
cuppin’ it in; tremenjous big cliff walls, straight as the
sides of a house. It air shore cur’us. I been boatin’ on
it more’n once.”

“The same here.”

“And, Cody, d’jer ever notice how mighty keerful
you had ter be ter keep frum banging ther nose of yer
canoe ag’inst ther walls? The hull thing is that de-

  
  
  
   
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

  
 

   

 

- ree Race aire eb ekane a ene h ee

THe BUFFALO

ceivin’, with the strange shadders of the walls floatin’ in
ther clear water, and the air so clear that thar hain’t
nothin’ like it, that ef a feller ain’t watchin’ clost, that
clear air is goin’ to fool him. He'll think that the cliff
is ten yards off, when it ain’t three, mebbe, and then he’s
on top of it, and in trouble. But that saved my life
onct.- Lill tell ye about it. An Injun war. chasin’
me, he in one canoe and me in another; and but

fer that deceivin’ wall he’d had re, fer he war armed,

and I hadn’t a weepon ’sides my canoe-paddle; but he
mistook the distance of a wall that p’inted out inter the
lake, and in tryin’ ter turn, thinkin’ he had plenty room,
he hung his ole canoe over the nose o’ ther clift. Then
ther canoe turned turtle, and down he went. Cody, that
water is like ice, and I dunno how deep it is. Mebbe
that Injun found out jes’ how deep, fer he never come
up. arterward. And I’m livin’ ter tell the tale.’

“We'll perhaps have some experiences with that lake
before we see the fort again.”

California Joe shrugged his heavy shoulders,

“I ain’t anxious ter see it again, spite of ther fact that
it saved me that away.”

“Why not?”

“Waal, I guess I’m a good deal Injun, ’count o’ livin’
amongst ’em so much, mebbe. Anyway, the queer shad-
ders on that water, an’ the sing’lar shapes 0’ ther cliffs,
wi ther feelin’ that I reely am floatin’ round over an ex-
tink voleano that mebbe may take a notion to show that
it’s still livin’ at any minute, makes me feel creepy. The
Injuns don’t like the place, they say, and I don’t blame
‘em ; I don’t like it, neither. .S’pose, Cody, that some time
while ye war floatin’ round on it that ole mountain
should wake up, and thar you’d be shot interthe sky by
ther hot water, fer I cal’late that ef ther crater got lively
ther water Would be hotter’n Tophet in about a minute—

jes’ supposin’ ther thing? Don’t it = yer feel sort o’.

cropy? It do me, fer certain.”
He laughed nervously, and thereby revealed the super-

stition which lay at the bottom of his nature; for truly

California Joe, in many things, was as much Indian as
he was white man.

“That crater hasn’t been active for thousands of years,
probably.”

“But ther earth ain’t got still under it yit. I’ve felt
this Californy country shake like a man with the ager
many a time. And who’s ter know fer shore that ther
ole mountain won’t wake up suddent some time and
turn that lake inter a tossin’ teapot o’ b’ilin’-hot water?
I allus think o’ that when I’m on it, er near it.

“And then thar’s ole Mount Shasta, wi’ his everlastin’
cap 0’ snow; and they do say that smoke and steam
comes out of him now and then! I seen ther sulphur
up round his top, and smelt it, too; and I’ve seen steam
oozin’ out o’ ther ground. Ther internal, er infernal,

fires o’ this country ain’t dead yit, Cody.

BILL STORIES, ae

“And then thar’s the lava beds. Seems as ef. ther
Lord made ’em jes’ fer-Injuns ter hide in, though it
don’t accord with my idea o’ ther Lord’s goodness. But
think o’ them lava beds! Thar is that black lava rock,
ye may call it, lookin’, a good deal of it, like black glass,
poured out by volcaners I dunno how many years ago,
and nobody don’t know; and thar it is, lookin’ jes’ as ef
it had cooled week afore last, wi’ all ther wrinkles in it,
and the little holes, and ther big ones—little holes no
bigger’n the p’int of a needle, and others big ernough ter
be caves. Did ther good Lord make them lava beds jes’
fer Modocs ter hide in arter they’d been cuttin’ up’spe-
cially bad?”

“Nature made the lava beds; the Modocs utilize them.”

“T never looks at them lava beds, Cody, ’thout feelin’
ther same way I do purty much when I’m up in ther
Crater Lake; that mebbe ’fore I kin git away frum ’em
ther lava will begin flowin’ ag’in, and thar I’ll be caught,
jes’ like a fly in hot molasses. It shore makes me cropy,
Cody—it do fer a fac’!”

Thus the old hunter talked as they rode oh, beguiling
the long way.

Yet, for all that, he was not the less alert and watch-
ful.

Not a bird or animal moved but he saw it.

His keen eyes roved with a strange restlessness that
seemed to ally him with Indians and wild animals.

It was a watchfulness which had been acquired through
long and perilous years spent in the wilderness and in
the mountains, so habitual that it seldom left him, and
so much a part of him that he did not know it.

The attempt to follow footprints or hoof-marks was

useless, so the scout and the hunter did not waste time

with such matters, but held their way steadily in the
direction of the lava beds, where, they were sure, the
Modocs were already in hiding.

Often the old man spoke of the woman, or girl, and _

her queer story of a brother who had come as a medical
missionary to the Modocs, and then had dropped out of
sight as completely as if he had fallen into one of the
lava rifts.

. “An’ that might ’a’ happened ter him, Buffler, ’specially
ef a Modoc war behind him, shovin’ good and hard.
Thar’s more secrits buried in them lava lands than many
men air dreamin’.”

He spoke often of other members of the wagon expe-
dition ; but invariably came back to the girl, in some such
fashion as this:

“And she war a purty ’un, Buffler. Mebbe she seemed
purtier to me than common, ’count o’ ther fact that ther
women folks I’ve mostly sot my eyes on have been
Injun squaws, which ther Lord never cut out ter be
handsome, except they’re mighty young, er air mixed

wi’ ther white blood. And she war courageous, Buffler,

a
SRS REE

 

        
       
       
     
     
       
   
       
     
     
     
     
       
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

eo
 

THE BUFFALO

Her comin’ hyar alone ter look fer her brother showed
that.” '

“The prettier she is, the worse her fate will be,” said

ethe scout, by way of comment on this. “Likely she’s
already been made the squaw of some Modoc chief, or
brave.”

“Yas; that’s so, Buffler!
sin than that.”

He subsided for awhile.

“But, Buffler,” he began, again, “ef her brother shore
did come among ther Modocs, he may be amongst ’em
yit, ef he’s livin’; and thar hain’t no denyin’ that she
might find him thar. Queerer things has happened in
this country.”

“It would be romantic enough, if they came together,
and she assisted him to escape!”

“Jes’ what I war thinkin’, Buffler! I hopes it may
come’ round that way. But I reckon ’tain’t likely. He’s
dead long ernough ago, I don’t doubt. It’s only in
fairy-stories that things allus comes round jes’ as they’d
ort to, Buffler.”’

“T don’t know about that,’ the scout objected.
have had some queer experiences in my own time.”

He drew rein.

Before them were lava ridges and rocky slopes, inter-
sected by ravines and dry cafions.

“See suthin’, Buffler?” asked California Joe anxiously.

“No; but we’re now in a dangerous country, and I
wish I but knew what those hills contain.”

“Rattlesnakes, Buffler, both of the human and the rep-
tile variety. You can’t go wrong in guessin’ that.”

The scout surveyed the ridges with his field-glasses.

“Nothing visible, at any rate,” he said, yet his tone was
anxious, even though he rode on.

39

Better ter be homelier than

oh

CHAPTER Vili:
THE MAD CHIEF OF THE MODOCS.

It was not until the next day that the scout had in-
dubitable evidence that those bare slopes and hills held
enemies in the shape of Modocs, though he suspected it
long before.

He and California Joe were still together, and the
region of the lava beds, where it was supposed the re-
treating redskins had taken shelter, was not distant.

‘ Descending into a windy ravine that held in its bot-
tom some powdery sand-heaps which the wind shifted
almost constantly, the keen eyes of the scout detected
moccasin tracks that the sand had almost covered over:

He sat still in his saddle, studying them, and pointed

‘them out to California Joe.

The eddying of the sand, which swept to and fro,
making the sand seem to wriggle and crawl, was an in-
teresting thing of itself, and by watching its effect on

those moccasin tracks the scout became convinced that

BILL STORES.

they had not been there half an hour, or the sand would
have buried them completely.

“He ventured to run along here, even though there
is sand, because he thought the sand would hide his
tracks in almost no time.”

Thus commented the scout.

“What I’m thinkin’ about is that ther cuss’ may be
drawin’ bead on one o’ us at this minute!”

California Joe’s ‘keéh eyes swept the ravine and the
sharp rocky slopes as far as he could see.

The feeling that a hidden enemy may be about to
shoot you is not a pleasant one. |

Buffalo Bill drew a revolver. Guiding his horse with
his knees, while his eyes sought the darkest shadows be-.
fore him, he began to follow that trail.

At the upper end of the ravine he lost it, for there the
sand had shifted enough to obliterate the tracks en-
tirely. 4

“T think I'll prospect ahead a little,” he said, “if you'll ~ |

stay here with the horses, Joe.”

He slipped from the saddle, alighting with the springy
grace of a youth, tossed his bridle-rein to old California
Joe, crept out of the ravine, and vanished from sight.

When he had gone a half-mile or more in what he
felt sure was the direction taken by the Modoc, he found
before him a barren cafion, across which a slender tree
trunk had been blown by some storm, the trunk offering
the only means of crossing.

He stood back in the hills some time, studying that
cafion and its tree-trunk bridge.

As he stood thus, he was, all unknown to himself, the
target of a pair of bright, restless eyes that literally
glared at him from the opposite side of the cafion.

The owner of those eyes was an Indian known as the
Mad. Chief, one of the most implacable of the Modoc
leaders, whose fierceness and vindictiveness were notori-
ous. Even the Modocs believed that at times his mind
was unbalanced; at other times, however, they were
ready to think that the rages into which he flew, the
desperate deeds he accomplished, and his reckless daring
and scorn of fear were indications that he was not a
madman, but a favorite of the spirits, who protected him
in all his rashness.

The Mad Chief had been doing a little scouting on his
own account, for he felt sure that pursuit of some kind
would be attempted.

The footsteps seen in the sand of the ravine had been
made by him.

He had not been aware, however, that they had been
detected until he beheld Buffalo Bill coming toward him.

Then he quickly crossed the log over the cafion and
dropped down in a little hollow in the rocks at its farther
end, where he lay cunningly hidden as the scout came on.

The wicked little eyes of the Mad Chief gleamed with

 

 
 

JBe BUFFALO BILE STORIES: | 15

apparently the fire of.insanity as he sees the scout

now, :
“Yet he teared: to iit: fipasele ao cs his concealment
and fire an arrow at Buffalo Bill.. The arrow might slip
on the bowstring, or not slay; and then,. he felt, he
would be at the mercy of Long Hair, whose deadliness
of aim had given him a reputation. that made him
dreaded.

After a time, when the. could see no io at fe other
end of the log, the scout: mounted it and began to cross.

He was in the middle of the log, with the swimming
depths below, and was giving close attention to his feot-
ing, when the Mad Chief, rising cautiously, : sent an arrow
at his head.

The scout heard the twang of the bowstring and the
flirt. of the -feathered shaft-in time to duck. The arrow,
aimed. at his face, scraped the top of his. head.

Startled, and momentarily dazed by the scraping stroke
of the arrow, the scout fell from the log; but he caught
the log as he tumbled, and succeeded in stopping his de-
scent, though he dropped his rifle into the cafion.

He began to draw himself up, to regain his position,

as the Indian dashed out upon the. Jeg, with his toma-
hawk swinging.

Buffalo Bill clung to the shaking and slender log for
dear. life, while the Mad Chief dashed forward to brain
him.

As it was impossible for the scout S lift himself to his
former position in time to meet this deadly rush, he
swung under the log, to avoid the blow of the tomahawk
aimed at his head, and as he did so he caught the chief
by the ankle.

_ Lhe tremendous jerk and the muscular power of the
scout lost the Mad Chief his footing. —

He went over, toppling, but caught the log with one
hand and the scout’s shoulder with the other. ~~ :

The struggle that followed was terrific and strange.

Below was the cafion, so that it was practically a com-
bat in mid-air, with the chief and the scout éach clinging
to the log by a | hand and using the other hand ee
ints: [6é.

The scout tried to get out his knife.
closer to him, to prevent this. Dropping the knife, the
scout caught the chief by the throat. What followed
was like the writhing combat of two serpents twined in
mid-air round the limb of a tree. The log shook and
swayed frightfully, and seemed-about to topple into the
cafion and carry them with it.

~The chief drew

That death-grip gained by the scouton the throat of
the Mad Chief told very quickly, for, though the chief
pred and ea he ie not. Lo the scout’s
hold.

eadually his struggles grew weaker’ his hoarse gur-
gling told that his. eee es been shu off, and he. was
ee oe: :

With a last desperate effort, he now. threw both arms
round the scout’s shoulders, and‘thus he clung, with the
blind tenacity of a dying bulldog, hoping to carry the
scout down into the cafion with him.

But his strength failed in the effort, and he fell swiftly
through space. ;

The scout clung, shuddering, to the log, which swayed
and trembled from the rebound when the Indian’s weight
was detached from it.

He heard a heavy thud below, where the chief struck,
and then followed silence.

Sick and giddy, with every nerve shaken, Buffalo Bill.
began to climb upon the log.

He was too weak, however, even when he gained it, to
walk upright, as at first, but crawled on across, and
dropped from the log, nerveless and faint, at its farther
end.

The great scout lay there, in the hollow which had
concealed the Mad Chief so short a time before. His
face was pale, his body was wet with sweat, and his fore-
head showed blood and perspiration.

Never had he been nearer a horrible death, it ccoen
to him, than a few minutes before.

While thus trying to get back his spent strength, he
blamed himself unjustly with a lack of ordinary caution
in letting himself get caught in a trap so terrible.

He had heard of the Mad Chief, and recognized that
it was he who had made that reckless attack.

After a time the scout rose unsteadily to his feet.

California Joe was not in sight.

No Modocs were visible.

“T’ll have to get my rifle and knife,” he thought, as he
looked down into the cafion. “I’m shaky, and it’s going
to be a hard climb. That reckless Indian paid for his
recklessness pretty dearly. And it was only a chance
that kept me from being down there with him.”

He walked along the edge of the precipice, looking for
a way of descent, and found a rough path that led part
way down.

A portion of. the descent was, however, peculiarly
difficult. aye

Yet the scout was so anxious to regain his knife and
rifle that he made his way down in spite of the diffi-
culties.

He expected to find the ee of the chief lying in ‘the
bottom of the cafion.

What he beheld was a small sand-bank, with the im- -
pression of the chief’s body, revealing where he .had.
struck, and footprints showing where he had walked

away.

The terrific fall had not killed the Mad Chief, after all.

“The soft sand broke the force of the fall and saved
him!’ said the scout. :

He picked up his knife and rifle, wondering why the
chief had not taken them, and looked about warily.

 
   

16 THE BUFFALO

Then he saw the chief’s knife, likewise the arrow he.

had fired, and which, after scraping the scout’s head,
had struck the cafion wall, and, bounding back, had
dropped here.

“He was too dazed, after that falll, to know what he

Otherwise, he would have taken my knife
His own

was doing.
and rifle, for the purpose of disarming me.

knife and the arrow left here shows he hardly knew what

he was doing when he hurried away.”
The scout warily searched the cafion with his eyes as

far as he could see, and then he began to follow those

footsteps.

They led along the cafion for some distance, and then
disappeared.

He heard a movement over his head, and then caught
sight of the Mad Chief disappearing among the boulders.

The chief was too frightened to take another shot at
the scout, or else he had lost his bow and quiver of
arrows. :

He vanished, and did not reappear, though for some
time the scout stood in the cafion, with rifle ready, watch-
ing for him.

“Tf he doesn’t try to ambush me again, or ambush Cali-
fornia Joe, he will hurry on to the lava beds, with news
for the Modocs. Well, let him go. I’m thankful to have
escaped so easily. But the Modocs will know now that
I have reached this point, and they will feel sure that
soldiers are not far behind.”

pose

CHAPTER IX.
: THE CAPTURE OF THE MAD CHIEF.

Old California Joe had left his horse hidden in a
ravine and was exploring among the rocks near the same
cafion, when he heard hurried footsteps advancing.

-“Injun moccasins!’ he said to himself, for that soft
padding sound of moccasined feet was unmistakable.

Then he beheld a wild-looking Modoc come into view,
his eyes rolling, his clothing torn, his eagle feathers gone,

and his painted face exhibiting every mark of insanity, or

fright.

“Ther Mad Chief!” he said.
now! I jedge he’s been close up ter a grizzly b’ar, frum
ther appearance of him.” :

The Mad Chief, in getting out of the cafion, had
climbed out on that side.

He was still wild-eyed and dazed, cad the old hunter

heard him muttering almost incoherently.

Owing to his mental state, he did not see old California
Joe, and ran almost into him; and then it was too late,
for California Joe had clutched him in a bearlike hug,
with a strength that was crushing.

The startled chief struggled-fiercely, but he was at the
moment no match for the old hunter, and in a a little while

he was subdued.

BILL: STORIES.

“And he shore looks it:

 

Lying on the ground, with his hands and feet tied, he
glared wildly at Po man who had so Lieu.) cap:
tured him.

“T know you're ther Mad- Chief, -all. right, bur: yer
needn’t think “ye can stab me ter death with hard looks!”
cried the old man, as he made ‘the cords tighter. - “You

_ war in sore kind of a moonin’-fit, I take it, when you

come a-ramblin’ along hyar, and that’s why you: proved
ter be so dead easy. Now, ef I knowed whar Buffler is!”

Then he heard footsteps, and found that Buffalo Bill,
who had also climbed out on that side of the cafion, was
approaching.

The scout was almost too astonished for words when
he saw that the Mad Chief had fallen into the hands
of old California Joe.

“But,” he said thoughtfully, “it’s just the thing we
want. We can send our message to the Modocs by him.”

“And let him go?’ cried the old man.

“Why not?”

They drew aside to confer over this, and the scout told
fully of his nearly fatal encounter. ©

Returning, the scout spoke to the Mad Chief.

“Spotted Deer,” he said, es the chief oS name,

“we want to have a talk with you.” |

The Mad Chief did not respond, nor appear to hear.

The scout and the hunter sat down before him.

“Spotted Deer, the horse soldiers of the white man are
near. They hold as prisoners two chiefs of the Modocs—
Running Elk and Red Panther.”

The Mad Chief Send eR 7 interest when he
heard that.

“Those two chiefs have been ee bad are pad
now, but will be restored to their people, unharmed, if
the Modocs will release the white. prisoners they now

hold in the lava beds. Now, we are going to let you go,
that you may carry this message to your people.”

The bright eyes of the chief burned tense and his
bosom heaved.

California Joe plucked at the scout’s sleeve.

“Look at his eyes! Kin ye trust him, Buffler ?”’

“There is oné reason that will make him deliver the
message, as I told you—-Red Panther is his son.”

For a few moments the scout and the hunter sat in

silence, watching the mental struggle of the chief, and — 4

wondering if. his mind was deranged, or if his eccen-
tricities were but part of a singular nature, |

_ Then:the scout spoke agains) 40)

“What does Spotted Deer say? Red Panther j is ‘Spot:
ted Deer’s son. If the white prisoners are not released,
then Red Panther dies before the rifles of the white sol-
diers. Let Spotted Deer Thins of that,”

Suddenly the chief ap oie
AD WAN eT

wrists and ankles.

‘The scout ‘bent. ee him and cut the cords, on his

   

 

 

  
 
   
 
  
    
 
  
 

     
 

 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

   
   
 

them Running Elk and Red Panther.
~ there for. you.

“Spotted Deer,” he said, as the Mad Chief rose to his _

owt “the white horse soldiers will be at the foot of red
cliff over yonder to-morrow morning, and will have with
They will wait
If you.bring the white prisoners—all of
-them—and deliver them up, Red Panther and Running

- Elk will be delivered to you unharmed. You need not

surrender the white prisoners until you. have seen that
those ve chiefs are with the white soldiers. Now, you
may go.”
Buffalo Bill spoke kindly. Harshness could avail noth-
ing, and he would have regretted his combat with the
Mad Chief but for the fact that indirectly it had driven

_ the latter into the hands of California Joe.

For a moment the chief stood staring straight before
him, with eyes that burned strangely and bosom that
heaved with varying. emotions, and then he started off,
without a word.

California Joe drew his long rifle across his knees, to
have it ready, though it did not seem that the Mad Chief
could find an opportunity to commit an act of treachery,
and together the two white men watched him until he
was out of sight.

“Now we'll go back to our horses,” said the scout, “and
then we'll find the troopers, and report to the Sine
what we have done. Luck rather fell our way when I

ran into that rascal on the log over that cafion, though I

thought at the time that I had met my finish.”

“I think, Buffler, that I’ll look at that arrer scratch on
yer head, ’fore we go on, as it’s bleedin’ some,” Calli-
fornia Joe remarked solicitously.

Like all men of his class, California Joe nassedeeH a
rude knowledge of surgery that was very serviceable at

A

as Tinies,
Now he examined the wound made by the arrow, ~

cleansed it as well as he could, and bound it up with a
strip of cloth from the scout’s hunting-shirt.

““Jes’ a scratch, as ye said, Buffler; but, a leetle lower,
and it’d ’a’ sent ye ter kingdom come. I wonder you
war able ter do any fightin’ at all arter gittin’ that, and
‘specially sitivated as ye war at ther time. Td ’a’ give
suthin’ handsome ter ’a’ seen that air fight.”

Buffalo Bill acknowledged that he was not even yet
feeling as well as he should have liked, yet he mounted
his horse, and the two old comrades rode away together,

for the purpose of meeting the troopers and communi-
cating with them in regard to the plans which they hoped
would result in the — OT: the Reve - the lava

‘beds.

 

_ CHAPTER: X.
“MODOC TREACHERY.
Early the next morning the troopers oe the fort

drew out in front of the red cliff mentioned to the Mad
Chief by Buffalo Bill,

 

_THE BUFFALO

BILL STORIES. 17,

They were fully armed, and watchful against treachery,
The Modocs, it was known, were not Indians who could
be trusted.

Buffalo Bill and old California Joe were with the
troopers; and there, also, were the two Indian prisoners,
Red Panther and Running Elk.

Shortly afterward a number of Modocs appeared out
in the distance, as\if they feared to approach nearer.
Among them was the Mad Chief.

Some hesitation followed on the part of the Indians,
and then a subchief rode forward, bearing a piece of
white deerskin as a white flag.

“They want to consult about something, Cody,

”?

said.

Granger, who had come out with the troopers in person. -

“I think I’d better meet that fellow.”

“Be watchful against treachery, if you do,”
advised. |

Granger rode forth alone to meet the messenger of the
Modocs, who had stopped when much less than half-way
to the troopers.

“IT don’t see the women and children,”
scout suspiciously to California Joe.

the scout

remarked the

“They've got ’em back thar among the rocks ahint
em, I reckon, ef they brung ’em at all.”

Colonel Granger was seen to join the Indian mes-
senger. Apparently, some wrangling talk followed, for
he was observed to gesticulate, and once the Indian ap-
peared to lift his tomahawk.

Suddenly two other Indian chiefs spurred out to join
the little group.

“We'll have to even things,” said the scout, touching
spurs to his horse. “Come, Joe!”

The scout and the old hunter galloped forth, for this
had a look they did not like.

The troopers left behind, under command of a lieu-
tenant, fingered their carbines nervously.

The Mad Chief now appeared,
group, and a stir was observed in the midst of the Indians
left behind.

“Tf any more Indians ride out there, we'll charge
them,” said the young lieutenant to his men. “I don’t
like the looks of this.”

Yet he had no authority to make a movement until an
order was received from the colonel in command.

The Mad Chief reached the common meeting-ground
almost as soon as Buffalo Bill and California Joe. His
little eyes were burning brightly, and his face showed his
malignant temper.

“How is this, Spotted Deer?” the scout demanded.
“We have Red Panther and Running Elk over there,
ready to exchange them for the white prisoners. Where
are the white prisoners?” ,

“T talk not with you,”
“but with him.”

He pointed to Colonel Granger.

said Spotted Deer insolently,

 

riding toward the ©

         
 

 

 

 

 

   
18

“Well, where are the prisoners you took?’ Granger
demanded. “I have asked this fellow, and received no
proper answer. We are here to make the exchange.”

The colonel was fast losing his temper, for he felt that
he-was being trifled with, and perhaps for a purpose.

Other Indians came ae forth, galloping wildly, to
join this. group.

“We'd better beat a retreat, colonel,’ said the scout.
“This smells of treachery.”

“T demand to know where the white prisoners are!”
said Granger, addressing the Mad Chief, Spotted Deer.

“They are where you will be now!” yelled the Mad
Chief, in the Modoc tongue, ashe whirled his tomahawk,
striking Colonel Granger with it from the saddle.

Buffalo Bill fired at the Mad Chief almost. instantly,
for he had been fearing something of the kind, but the
rearing of his horse caused him to overshoot.

He saw that Granger was only wounded, but that he «

would be killed, for his foot had caught in the stirrup,
and his horse was beginning to run.

The other three Indians were rushing upon Buffalo 7

Bill and California Joe, as the scout dashed to save the
colonel from being dragged to death.

The thundering hoofs of the approaching Indian riders
and their shrill yells told more than words could do of
the treachery of the Modocs, but there came the answer-
ing cheers of the troopers, as they charged now to the
rescue of the imperiled white men.

Old California Joe-shot an Indian from his saddle, and
then swung his long rifle as if it were a club.

Then his horse and that of the scout went down, slain
by bullets; and the scout, not having yet reached the
colonel, found himself on the ground.

Still desirous of saving the life of Colonel Granger,
he leaped for the dangling bridle-rein, but the plunging
horse evaded him and dashed away, dragging its unfortu-
nate rider,

The scout turned at bay, drawing his revolvers now,
but the movement to save himself had been too late.

The Mad Chief was ee on him, striking with his
tomahawk.

The scout threw up his revolver-hand and fired.

The movement doubtless saved his life, if it did no
more, for it turned aside the edge of the tomahawk ; and,
though the weapon struck him on the side of the head,
it was the flat of the tomahawk that delivered the blow.

The scout’s revolver flamed its contents ineffectively,
and then he fell, stricken to the earth.

Old California Joe stood over him, swinging that ter-
rible rifle and roaring like a madman, while the treacher-
ous Modocs swarmed round him like howling wolves.

The galloping troopers were near, their yells were
ringing, and their carbines were spouting fire.

Then California Joe fell, knocked down by a war-club
after he had beaten three of his assailants to the earth.

THE BUFFALO

- havin’ any timepiece and can’t see ther sun-

BILL. STORIES.

When the troopers charged: over the scene, ey were
too late. .
The Indians who: had ridden like the wind ‘to the as-
sistance of their comrades were retreating, carrying with |
them Buffalo Bill and’California Joe, ‘both insensible. “

Colonel Granger was seriously injured, but not dead’

The combat that ensued was of ‘the charge-and-retreat »
order, with the Modocs fighting their way back to the
‘rocky ground from which they had issued so daringly.

They were led by the Mad Chief, who seemed, indeed,
mad; but whose apparently insane recklessness had this
time been temporarily justified by its results.

“CHAPTER XI-
IN THE WHISPERING GALLERIES. _

One of the mysterious qualities of the lava beds. to.
which the Modocs had fled was revealed to old California
Joe after he had been a prisoner in them a day.

He had been thrust into a dark cavern, with his. old
friend, Buffalo Bill.

The cavern was, in shape, a long gallery, wich. was
blocked with stones at each end, and had high overhead
some small niches that let in a little light. Those niches
were inaccessible. At least, California Joe could not
reach them, though he-had made efforts to do so.

Buffalo Bill had been unconscious for several hours
after he had been brought. to the lava beds, and he was
still weak. The blow of the tomahawk delivered by. the
Mad Chief had come near depriving him of life.

He lay now on a pallet consisting of a moth-eaten
bearskin that had,been thrown in by their Indian guard.
He was still cea but no longer delirious.

“A little more of that water, Joe,” he said, lifting him-
self on his elbow. “No news, I suppose?” | .

California Joe rose eagerly and gave him a drink out
of a stone water-jar which had been placed there for
their use.

The scout drank grectlly, showing that fie was
feverish,

“You had a good ine that time, Buffler, i. said the old
man anxiously.

“Yes: I must have alee BRS 2 wend man.
is th, ta a

“Waal, it’s daylight, and that’s about all I kin tell, not
But T reckon *
it’s some’at after feedin’-time, in ther middle 0’ ther’ day, i
jedgin’ by the condition. of ey bread-basket.. You're
feelin’ better, Buffler ?” eu

“‘Almost myself again, Joe.”

He lay ie ane a drinking from the water-
gare. : e
“No news?”

“None at-all, Buffler.” os 23.
“I believe it was the intention: af Sodan Dee to‘kills;

WE hat time te

 
THE BUFFALO

all of us. He certainly struck straight for my head.
Granger is dead, I’m afraid.”

“And a pity ’tis, Buffler. A fine man he was, ef a bit
peculiar in considerin’ that a soger, and especially an
officer, war jes’ a leetle better than any other man on
earth. But it’s ther way of sogers to think that, you’ve
noticed.”

“T believe the Mad Chief is really mad—that is, insane,
or half insane. Though his son, Red Panther, was a
prisoner, he did not attempt by negotiation to secure his
release, but only planned to massacre the men who came
forth to talk out there in the open. He intended the
death of us all. I wonder if any of the white prisoners
are alive ?”’

“Hain’t seen ner heard of one o’ them, Buffler.’”’

“Nor Spotted Deer?”

“Hain’t seen hide ner ha’r of ’im, Buffler.
heerd him.”

“How is that 2”

“Waal, now, if you'll jes’ listen a minute.”

He put up his hand.

‘Thar “tis,:

Then the scout. heard words, which seemed to come
from the walls; and a little later there were sounds of
moccasined feet and the clink of stone jars and cooking
utensils.

“Whar’s that come frum, Buffler?”

The scout sat up.

“There must be a hole in the wall here, Joe.”

“That’s what I said, and I s’arched fer it; but, ef thar
is, I can’t find it.”” 3

Théy continued to listen. Now and then the words
were so distinct that they could be understood. Indians
were talking, in the ordinary conversation one might ex-
pect to hear in a teepee, or by a lodge-fire.

After a little the scout rose to his feet, somewhat. un-
steadily.

“T’ve got to investigate that, Joe.”

“Air ye stiddy enough on yer legs, d’ye think?’

“Tt will give me strength to walk round some.”

“Hyar, lemme help ye.”

He took Buffalo Bill by the arm, and together they
tried to discover how that conversation could be heard in
their prison.

For an hour they kept up the search, returning at the
end of that time to the pallet, where the scout again lay
down to rest.

But I’ve

They had made an astonishing discovery, it seemed.

The place in which they were confined was a natural
whispering gallery. The tunnellike cavern, though

“blocked at each end, still had something of the qualities

of the receiver of a telephone, and brought to them
sounds from a distance. :

“T wonder if they can hear us?” said the scout.
might, if we spoke loud enough.”

“They,

 

PRR TT pCa LG
> ;

BILE STORIES. 19

“°*Twouldn’t be no use ter test it,” objected California
Joe.

“No; but the thing is interesting.”

They ceased speaking, for conversation of a different
kind came to them now; not the guttural talk of Indians,
but words that were unmistakably English.

“The other prisoners!” said the scout, starting up
eagerly.

“It do seem it, Buffler, fer a fac’!
they ?”

“Tt isn’t likely they’re out where the Indians are!”

They continued to listen; and then the words they
heard reached them even more distinctly, and were sug-
gestive, as well as startling:

“Oh, Henry, Henry! Now that I’ve found you, and
you are ul

The rest of the sentence became indistinguishable, like
a voice dying away in a telephone.

The old mountaineer sprang to his feet as if electri-

But whar air

fied.

9999
!

“Buffler, that’s Miss Lindsay, shore as shootin

“The young woman who was with the wagon-train?”

“Ther same; I knows her voice. Now, whar is she?’

Again they harkened.

“The ‘Henry’ she spoke to must have been the brother
she came here to seek,” the scout suggested.

“T’m bettin’ it, Buffler! Ef we knowed whar they
war!”

“T’m afraid, Joe, even then we couldn’t help them.
But we fthight be able to talk with them, and that would

‘be worth a good deal.”

“Shall I try it, Buffler ?”

“Yes; try it; no harm can come of it.”
The old mountaineer lifted his voice:
“Miss Lindsay !’’

“Oh, Henry, Henry, if we ” came the voice.

“Thar it is ag’in; but she didn’t hear me!”

“Try again.”

“Miss Lindsay !”

Silence followed.

California Joe pronounced the name in so loud a tone
now that he feared it would reach the Indians, whose
guttural chatter could still he beard.

“Wh-who was that?” came in answer to his call.

-“Waugh! Buffler, did yer hear that?”

He lifted his voice again.

“Miss Lindsay, this hyar air ole Californy Joe! Is
that you, Miss Lindsay ?”

“Ves; where are you?”

“I dunno whar I am. Whar air you?”

“T don’t know where J am, either.”

‘Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! Ye don’t know whar ye air?”

“No; I’m in a cave of some kind.”

“Somebody’s with yer’

“Yes; Mr. Marston.”

 
   

THE BUFFALO

“T dunno who he air; but I’ll say this—that we’re in a
cave, too, some’eres in the lava beds. We’re stopped in,
and can’t git out. Buffler Bill is my companion in mis’ry,
and he’s jes’ gittin’ better of a tommyhawk lick on ther
side of ther head that come nigh sendin’ him over ther
Divide. Ef we could locate ye, we might figger. on some
way 0’ helpin’ ye. You can’t git out o’ thar, I reckon?”

“I could get out the way I got in; but that would do
no good. I discovered Mr. Marston, and released him;
and then we made our way into this place, and cant get
any farther; and if we go back we 0

Here the voice trailed away again, owing to some
shifting of the currents of air or electricity that had made
the words distinguishable.

“Miss Lindsay!” ‘

There was no answer until he had spoken several
times. :

Then the girl could be heard again.

“What made you stop talking?” she asked.

“I didn’t; but you stopped listenin’, I reckon. Miss
Lindsay:

“Ask her to pound on the wall where she is,” the
scout suggested.

California Joe made the request.

Thump! thump! thump! came in return.

“T kin hear ye poundin’, but I can’t tell ther direction
any more’n I kin by yer voice. I s’pose you can’t locate
me, either ?”

“No; I can’t tell what direction your voice comes
from.”

“Waal, that’s funny.”

They heard her now speaking to the man with her.

 

 

“Mr. Marston suggests that you pound on the rocks,
and maybe we can locate you,” she said. :

California Joe struck the rocks behind him with his
heavy boot, and then walked to and fro in the tunnel-
‘like space, kicking the walls.

“There! there! Stand right there!” came, at length, in
the voice of the girl, with a certain hysterical emphasis.
“That was right in front of us!”

“Waugh! Then you're stopped up in the furder end
of ther same ole tunnel we’re in.”

“Oh, now I can hear you so clearly! You seem to be
tight before me.”

“T think you are right in front of us,” came in the
voice of the man, a voice that had a hoarse, wheezy
sound.

Buffalo Bill, forgetting his weakness, sprang to his feet
and ran to the side of the old mountaineer.

Straight in front of the latter were some stones that
filled what seemed to be the end of the tunnel.
~**Vell ye what!” cried California Joe; “we'll jes’ dig

this hyar ole wall-down! And then——”
“Sh Ve
The warning came from the scout.

 

   

BILE STORIES.

 

He had heard a digging at the stones at the opposite

end of the long tunnel.

“Ther Injun guard is burrowin’ ter git in ter us,” said
California Joe, speaking to the girl and her companion.
“He allus comes in by movin’ stuns at that eend of this
hyar cavern. He, er some of his kind, stays out thar as
a guard. Jes’ lay low, will ye, till arter he’s gone ag’in.
We don’t want him ter'know of this.”

“What is that? You speak so low!”

“Danger, Miss Lindsay!” he answered, lifting his voice
so that this time she understood. “Jes’ keep still a min-
ute er two,”

9

 

CHAPTER Xil.
PRISONERS OF THE GALLERIES,

What the Indian guard did to gain entrance to. the
cavern where Buffalo Bill and California Joé were held
was to move’ aside some stones, which permitted him to
swing a much larger pivoted stone that served as a door.

This he could do readily enough. The stones to be
moved were on the outside, and not to be reached from
within, a fact which had already baffled some attempts
made by old Joe to open an exit there.

The Indian appeared, bearing a torch, and behind him
stood other Indians, armed with-rifles and bows, these
being the escort he had always brought with him to keep
the prisoners from escaping into the outer galleries.

“Ugh!” he grunted, when he saw that Buffalo Bill had
recovered sufficiently to be up.

He stared hard at the prisoners. ¢

“Why for talk?” he said, frowning.

He held the torch high over his head, and looked round
the cavern.

“Heap big talk!’ he grumbled.

“Waal, now, ye see, sense my pard hyar has got back
his thinkin’-machine, we has been doin’ a good deal o’
talkin’,” California Joe explained. “Naterly, he’s been
askin’ me a lot o’ questions, and I’ve been explanifyin’
things ter him as well as I could, seein’ *t I don’t know
any too much myself.”

“Ugh!”

The Indian guard began to walk round suspiciously ;
but he saw nothing to warrant a thought that all was not
as it should be.

“White man heap big talk!” he said, grunting a re-
proof, as he came back to where stood the prisoners.

“It’s nateral that we should talk considdable, on ac-
count er ther fact that we been short o’ talk fer some
time, owin’ ter the condition o’ my pard hyar.”

“No sabe!” said the Indian.

Old Joe began to fire this same thing at him then in
Modoc, speaking the Indian language really better than
he did English, a thing strange to say, as English was his
native tongue.

     
      

 

 

=

——

————

 

 

 
       
    
   
  
  
   
   
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

tHe

“And we should like something to eat,” he concluded.

The guard gave no heed to this, but made a further
search of the cavern, and then went out; and they heard
him and the other Indians again blocking in position. the
stone door.

A good deal of noise was made by them in this work,
and, under cover of it, California Joe and Buffalo Bill
again opened communication with Miss Lindsay and her
companion.

“Miss Lindsay,” said the old man, “we’ve detarmined
ter begin at once ter undermine this end o’ ther gallery;
and we think maybe you kin do some work on ther stuns
on your side. Mebbe we kin git a hole through hyar by
considdable grubbin’. But we want ter do ther work
soft and easy like, ter keep ther murderin’ Modocs from
knowin’ what we're up to.”

“Yes—yes |”

“We'll report progress. frum time ter time; but ther
less talk, ther less danger, in my ’pinion.”

Buffalo Bill forgot, or ignored, the fact that he was in

no physical condition for heavy labor, and set himself to

the task of lifting away those heavy stones, laboring by
the side of the big mountaineer.
They worked as quietly as they could; but now and

then a loosened stone rolled down with such a clatter that

they expected to have the guard and his escort in upon
them.

At intervals, as they stopped to rest, they spoke in low
tones to the woman and Marston; and the fact that it
was becoming easier for this conversation to be carried
on filled them with hope.

But what were they to do, and what could be accom-
plished, even if they succeeded in removing the stones?

Two hours or more passed before they were in a con-
dition to test this question.

By that time the last stone necessary had been re-
moved, and they stepped through the opening, and met
there a haggard woman and a man even more haggard,
a man whose thinness and weakness were so apparent
that he seemed almost a tottering skeleton.

Having been so long accustomed to the faint light,
Buffalo Bill and California Joe had no trouble in dis-
cerning the features and the physical condition of this
man. :

They shook hands with him, and spoke encouragingly
to him, and to the woman, who was now trembling so
that she could hardly stand.

“T reckon, Miss Lindsay, that you ain’t seen nothin’
o’ yer brother, though?” said the old mountaineer. “But
we'll find ’im!”

Miss Lindsay laugged, but it seemed hysterical.

“Joe, this is my brother—or the one I told you about.
Really, I wasn’t looking for my brother, but for the man
I had been engaged to marry. I felt a hesitancy in say-
ing that, and so I spoke of him as my brother.”

the route.

   

BUFFALO BILL STORIES. 21

“Waugh! Yer don’t mean it? Then shake ag’in!”

He pumped the hand of Marston once more.

“I’m very glad to meet you,” responded Marston, “and
to know you both. Mr. Cody, I’ve heard of you often,
and I’ve heard nothing but the praises of California Joe
since Julia found me and we have been together. She
is a wonderful woman—a heroine. I’ve been buried in
here nearly a year. She found me, and we've reached
this spot in our attempt to escape, but could get no far-
ther. I’d like to tell you my story, but it’s a long one,
and we'll take a time when we can have more leisure.”

“Waugh! Leisure has been the thing that’s been trou-
blin’ me ever sense I struck this boardin’-house! I’ve
had too much of it.’

“And you can find no way out?”

“Unless we down that guard and fight our way out
through his escort, when he appears again,” the scout
suggested. ‘You're sure there’s no chance the way you
came ?”’

“Absolutely none,’ said Miss Lindsay.
in there for two or three hours.”

She stopped, to assist Marston across the stones that
still choked the opening.

“T think we’d like to hear that story,” the scout sug-
gested. “How did you find him? And why can’t we go
back the way you came? ‘The chances would be, prob-:
ably, as good there as here. And we might find an open-
ing. You see, we hadn’t learned, until we heard your
voices, that these stones could be removed and a way
opened to this section of the gallery.”

“Let’s go at once, then,” she urged ee “Over
there, you. say, is where the guard comes in? He may
appear at any moment.”

“T’ve been wondering why there hasn’t already been
an outcry about my escape,” said Marston. “I think my-
self we'd better retreat from here, as it seems a dan-
gerous position. We have no weapons, and the guard’s
escort could shoot us all down without trouble.”

“Shall we have light enough to see by?” Buffalo Bill
asked.

“A little light-comes through crevices, as here,’ Mar-
ston answered,

“We can try it, though I’m almost persuaded that our
best chance would be to arm ourselves with stones and
attack the guard and the Indians with him when he ap-
pears. But there’s a big risk in that, of course.’

This was the thing the scout would have urged
strongly but for the sake of Miss Lindsay.

“I tell you how I found Henry,” she said, as she set
out with him, leading the way now. ‘We'll have to go
careful here,”

“We have been

into the lava beds, of course. The Modocs brought me
here, after the attack on the wagon-train. What has
become of the other prisoners I don’t know, except that
some of the women and children are dead. The march
here was a terrible one, and some of the women and
children became exhausted, and were killed, to get rid of
them. How I bore up I don’t know, but I think the very

she warned, pointing to the roughness of —
“TI came here to find him, you know. Not.

 

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
 

22

thought that perhaps my capture was providential, and
that it might take me to where Henry was held, if a
prisoner, gave me some strength.

“But it was only to-day that I found him. It came
about through the singular qualities of these strange gal-
leries. I heard him walking about, and then heard him
talking to himself.”

“A habit a man falls into when much alone,” said
Marston apologetically. “But a lucky habit for me.”

“I heard him, and then I began to call to him, and he
answered. It was like a voice from the dead. I could
have shouted for joy. But I didn’t.”

“No,” said Marston; ‘she was caution itself.”

“And the strange thing of it was that we were really
in the same cavern, or in the same part of this big cav-
ern, only he was high up over my head, and had to
climb down to get to me.”

“Td been down in that part of the cavern before, many
times, when I was stronger than I am now, and had
never found anything in it,” explained Marston; “so that
lately ve paid no attention to it. It’s a long and diffi-
cult climb; and perhaps the Modocs believe I couldn’t
make the descent, in my weakened state, and that she
would not be able to climb up to where I was. More
likely, though, they knew that if we did meet, or com-
municate, it would amount to nothing, so far as our get-
ting out was concerned. Really, it seems to me a waste
of time to go to that part and make a search there. I’ve
been all over it dozens of times, long ago. There’s noth-
ing but the solid walls, and the terraces of stone that lead
up to the higher galleries. This is a limestone cavern,
filled over, or buried, at some time by a lava flow; and
we have, hence, a strange physical phenomenon, as you
see. In some places the lava flow entered the galleries
and sealed them up, and that’s the way we'll find it here,
when we go a little farther. It makes a splendid hiding-
place for the Modocs, and a fine prison for any poor
devil who falls into their hands.”

They came to the place he had mentioned, and found
it even as he had said. ~

“I really think,” he urged, “that the only chance is to
make an attack on that guard.”

“And be killed!’ she objected.
neither fight nor run!”

“I should have been killed long ago,” he went on, “but
for my medical skill. I came into this section, you know,
as a medical missionary. I opposed the medicine-men
of the tribe, and I fell, finally, a victim to their blind hate.
They wanted to kill me, but I had made a few cures
which had baffled them, and some of the chiefs were op-
posed to it. I really think at first the chiefs wished to
aid me. Perhaps they feared to; I think by and by the
medicine-men turned all the people against me, even in-
cluding the chiefs. Even then, as I judge, they still
feared to kill me, lest I should be able to haunt them, or
cast some deadly spell on them. They have queer ideas.
I don’t understand them myself. I only know that after
being received cordially for awhile the medicine-men felt
I was displacing them, and turned against me. And I

“Henry, you can

was made a prisoner, and have been here ever since.

But now I feel that I shall escape.”

His voice was weak, but his tone was hopeful.

“When a woman proves herself to be such a heroine
as my Julia, here, it must mean something. Yes; we
shall all escape! She came here to save me, and I feel
sure she will accomplish it.”

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

“You're exciting yourself, Henry!” she said.

“Not at all, my dear; ’'m merely saying things that I
feel to be true; and it makes me feel stronger to say
them. Yes; we're going to get out. I’m in favor of at-
tacking the guard.”

Wrought upon by his weakness and his emotion, he

trembled, yet strove hard to seem calm.

“Henry, you're exciting yourself!’’ she protested.

“Then,” said Buffalo Bill, “you feel sure that we shall
only waste time by seeking farther in this. direction?”

“Cody, I know it. ve been all through here, time
and again, and I have sounded every foot of these walls.
Remember that I’ve been in here for months.”

“We might try along here,” suggested the scout, and
he began to tap the walls near him.

“Buffler,’ said California Joe, who had walked toward
the stone-choked spot they had burrowed through, “‘that
pesky guard has come back ag’in.”

“Then the time has come for us to do something,” de-
clared the scout, his voice showing a faint trace of ex-
citement. “Like Marston, I favor attacking the guard
and his escort. What will come after that I don’t know.
Still, if Miss Lindsay wishes, we'll go in the other direc-
tion; or California Joe and I can return to the place

where we were, leave you and Marston here, and so try-

to keep the guard from knowing that we have met and
have broken that hole through.”

But their hesitation lasted only for an instant.

The manner of the guard and his assistants was dif-
ferent from what it had been before, indicating haste and
excitement; and then there came to their ears the wolflike
howl of Indians, in the direction of the prison gallery
which Miss Lindsay had occupied.

 

CHAPIRR Xi.
A DESPERATE SITUATION.

The escape of Miss Lindsay and her lover trom their
prisons had been discovered.

A strong hand was required in this emergency, and
Buffalo Bill took command. MResourcefulness, courage,
and leadership of the highest type were needed now.

“We'll attack the guards when they open a way
through,” he said.

_ He pushed Miss Lindsay and Marston along in front
of him toward the point where the sound of removing
stones was heard.

“Arm yourselves with whatever you can lay hands on,”
he whispered. “We'll have to make a desperate fight to

get through, but we can’t afford to be caught here be- |

tween two forces.”

It began to seem, however, that the yelling Modocs
who had discovered the flight of the prisoners would ar-
rive before the way was opened by the guard and his
assistants.

The yells came nearer and nearer, and then was heard
the soft pattering of moccasined feet coming toward
them.

The stone door, which was merely a sliding rock,
ground and creaked with a dull, grating noise.

“Ready!” whispered the scout.

He put his hand on Miss Lindsay’s arm, to reassure

her, and saw that she was clinging to Marston. The lat-
ter had assumed the attitude of a fighting berserker. A

 

 

 

 
   

  
 

 

 

ae

 

or

 

  

- not know.

ponderous stone held in his hand was half-poised ready
for the throw, and his whole frame shook as with a
sudden rage.

The stone door flew open.

“Not yet—steady!” whispered the scout.

Behind them, and drawing so near that the pattering
footsteps filled the’ gallery, while the yells were deafen-

ing, came the Modocs from the other chambers.

The guard jumped through the doorway, and after
him came his assistants, two of whom carried torches.

“Now ! {??

The scout shouted the command, and hurled the stone
he had gripped, striking the guard to the floor.

Marston screeched like a madmian as he hurled the
stone he held, and the roar of old California Joe was like
that of an enraged mountain-lion.

Taken by surprise in this manner, with half. their

_ humber beaten down, the guards tried to scramble back.

The torches lay smoking on the floor, and the Indians
jammed the hole in their efforts to get through.

The scout and those with him dashed upon them, fight-
ing with stones and with naked fists.

The yells of the pursuing Indians rose clamorously ;
and then, from farther away, came other yells, showing
that other Modocs had been aroused and were hastening
to the scene of the fight.

Miss Lindsay fell, and was dragged on by the scout.

California Joe assisted Marston, who, though upheld
by a smoking rage, was yet clumsy by reason of his
weakened condition.

Then they found themselves through the opening and
in a dark gallery, and were running on, they knew not
whither, while behind them almost immediately arose

yells of furious rage and sounds of pursuit.

Stumbling, falling, and bruising themselves in their
wild flight, the little party came to a well-lighted, narrow
gallegy, which at first gave them hope, because of the
hight.

Here there was a deep ascent, up a glassy ledge at an
angle of forty-five degrees. What was above they did
High over them. were some ragged holes at
the top of perpendicular walls, and these let in the grate-
ful light.

“Up with you!”? said Buffalo Bill.

He assisted Marston to scramble up, and then lifted
Miss Lindsay bodily in his arms and began to climb,
helped by the big hunter. Apparently, the scout had re-
gained his strength. At least, there was now no sign of
weakness or hesitation.

But when they had ascended the slippery ledge with
difficulty, being but a short distance ahead of the pur-
suing Indians, they found themselves in a veritable
pocket, from which, apparently, there was no way of
escape. The place was almost*circular, though the shape
was irregular, and the walls all round of solid stone.

Many boulders and small stones had fallen at different
times from the sides of the walls and lay in confused
heaps on the floor.

‘The perpendicular walls gave no hope of ascent, and

that light above was so high that it could, never be

reached, apparently.

Here they were forced to stand at bay.

The scout seized one of the heavy stones at his feet,
and his example was imitated by the others.

The epee Modocs had stopped at the foot of the

incline.

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

 

      
 

climbing up.

A shower of stones greeted them, hurling them back,
bruised and bleeding.

California Joe’s wild yell, so like an Indian’s in its
piercing quality, seeméd to shake the walls, and Marston
yelled with him, wrought to a frenzy.

Even Miss Lindsay hurled down stones upon the
Modocs,

Groans and cries of pain reeounded through the gal-

S

leries, together with shouted commands and yells of rage.

Then arrows came whizzing into the circular room

where the whites stood at bay, these arrows striking
against the walls and rebounding to the floor.

The increasing hubbub below told that more Modocs
were gathenig there. The scout thought he recognized
the voice of the Mad Chief, urging some of the warricrs
to make another attempt to scale the slippery incline.

‘The refugees thus penned in stood for a time in silence,
which was broken only by their deep breathing.

“How are we ever to get out of this dreadful place?”
said Miss Lindsay, finally, but not expecting an answer.

“Ther outlook air ruther juberous,” California Joe ad-
mitted. “But I has been in wuss scrapes, and I’m livin’
yiti”

“We can hold them at bay here,” said Buffalo Bill.

“And they can keep us in here! Oh, this is dreadful !”

“My dear,’ said Marston, “when I think of what I
have already lived through, it seems wicked to doubt that
we shall ultimately escape.”

That repulse had taught thé Modocs a lesson in cau-
tion. Though the uproar continued below, there was no
repetition of that wild attempt to climb the slope. Even
the desperate Mad Chief appeared too sensible to think
of that.

The whites dared not look down, for that would have
been. to invite a bullet, or an arrow; and they could only

guess by the confused sounds and cries what was go-

ing on,
As for themselves, they stood ready, with stones in
their hands and heaps of stones piled at their feet.

Marston stood close by the side of the woman he loved,
and who had risked so much for him, and now and then
he glanced at her, with a look of admiration and affec-
tion.

She was proving herself a heroine, indeed; for her
attitude was now as defiant as that of her male com-
panions.

Buffalo Bill, however, was the hevore figure of the
group, and his lionlike bearing was a source of strength
to all.

Half an hour or more passed without any indication
of the intentions of the Modocs; and then an arrow, skot
from the opening high above, struck the wall by the head
of Buffalo Bill, missing him by barely an inch.

The Modocs had sent bowmen out to those holes, and —
they were now to try to shoot down the refugees within

that little room.

“Back!” shouted the scout, when he heard the stroke
and wind of that arrow, and he pushed Miss. Lindsay
close up against the wall.

He jumped close up against the wall himself,

Marston and California Joe did the same.

Then other arrows came whizzing down into the cir-
cular room, and the Modocs who were at the openings

23

A moment later, with desperate courage, they were

ee eee

SSeS eae

TEE SE

Se

    
     

 
 

   

above were clearly visible. They were lying on their
faces, peering down, to sight the whites.

“Oh, for a good revolver!” cried Buffalo Bill.

“One might as well wish for the moon!” said Miss
Lindsay.

“That’s true, too; but I don’t think they can reach us

_so long as we stand close against the walls.”

The tactics of the Modocs were now revealed in their
entirety.

Those at the foot of the slope again tried to scale it,
knowing that when the whites rushed out to hurl their
stones they would be exposed to the arrows of the In-
dians from above.

The situation was desperate, but the occupants of the
room could not hesitate. They rushed to the defense of
the slope, with hurling stones, and Buffalo Bill himself
smashed in the head of the one daring Indian who gained
the crest without being stricken down.

The Modocs above shot their arrows and yelled fiend-
ishly, but fortune was for the moment with Buffalo Bill
and his companions.

The effort to scale the incline was frustrated, and the
occupants of that little chamber were still untouched by
the arrows. |

Yet the scout knew that this could not go on forever.

One by one, he and his companions would be struck —

down by arrows, as they sought to stem the charges up
the slope. It was a mere matter of time.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A STARTLING INTERVENTION.

An. arrow, glancing on the walls, struck Miss Lindsay
to the earth, apparently killing her.

It was a moment of horror.

Marston seemed turned to a madman by the sight.

He rushed to her, gathered her in his arms, showered
her with frantic kisses, begging her to tell him that she
was not dead.

Suddenly he dropped her; and then, rushing to the
edge of the incline, he seemed about to hurl himself head
foremost down on the Indians.

He was utterly oblivious to danger at the moment.
The scout started forward to draw him back.

Marston raised his hands high over his head, and
shrieked curses down on the heads of the Modocs.

They could have shot him dead as he stood thus before
them, but his frantic manner, his theatrical attitude, and,
above all, the reputation he had enjoyed as a medicine-
man, held them spellbound and filled with a certain fear.

‘He was calling down on them the vengeance of the
white man’s God, and their superstitions were for the
moment aroused.

Then a singular thing followed with such suddenness
that it seemed his prayer was answered.

‘The walls rocked, pieces of stone fell from above, ter-
rible noises came up from the depths of the galleries,
and then the whole earth trembled with successive earth-
quake shocks.

-It was a natural phenomenon, the like of which re-
cently shook the city of San Francisco to the ground,
reducing it to ruins in a few seconds. But that did not
make it the less astonishing and frightful.

The Modocs fled, screaming with terror, and Buffalo
Bill and his companions were for the moment almost

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

paralyzed with fear, aie the walls about them swayed
and cracked, stones fell, and great seams opened in the
very floor itself.

Buffalo Bill, even in the midst of the confusion, lifted
Miss Lindsay in his arms, seeing that now was the time
to escape, if ever. .

“We can get down now!’ he shouted.

Marston recovered his faculties as by a jerk, and
rushed to clasp the form of the woman he loved; and
Buffalo Bill yielded her into his arms.

“We must get down right now!” said the scout. “We
may be crushed here, or anywhere, but this is our time.
Joe, are you ready?”

“Aye, Buffler, ef I’m still livin’ !”

The superstitious old hunter had been mentally as
badly affected as the Modocs themselves, and crouched
at the moment close by the wall, with an arm held over
his head to protect him from the falling stones, while
he muttered strangely, as if praying.

But he sprang up at the scout’s words, and then they

scrambled down the incline.
Not a minute had elapsed, yet the time seemed in-
terminable. The shocks had already passed, but the gal-
leries were piles of broken stones, with the walls bulged
and racked.

“The Indians went that way,’ said the scout,
here seems to be a fairly open and lighted passage.”

Marston stumbled, regardless of his weak condition,
and the scout caught the woman from his arms.

“T must carry her!” he insisted. “Now, come on!’

Then they ran blindly forward, not knowing whither
they went, but only desirous of finding a way out of
those under ground chambers of horrors.

In a little while they crossed a trickling stream, where
no stream had been before, and then descended into a
cavernous place. It did not look inviting, but nothing
else was before them. eS

They spent many minutes in half darkness down
there, trying to find a way out.

During that time Miss Lindsay regained conscious-
ness. They had already found that she was not danger-
ously wounded, but that the stroke of the arrow on the
side of the head had made a bruised ange and reduced
her to unconsciousness.

But even when she came back to herself she was weak.

Old California Joe insisted that, as he was really
stronger than any other member of the party, he should
be the one to aid her, and carry her when she needed to
be carried; and Buffalo Bill now gave her into his hands.

“We've got to go back, after all,” the scout announced
finally, in a tone of regret, “This is a blind passage that
leads nowhere.”

Then they. found that they were, if anything, in a con-
dition worse than before, for when they sought to re-
turn they discovered that the trickling stream theyhad
crossed had become, in the meantime, a roaring torrent,
and that water from it was pouring into the cavern
where they were through an opening at one side. ie

The stream filled all the passage through which they
had come, and this overflow, running into the place they
occupied, threatened soon to fill it and drown them.

They retreated, in dismay, but the rising water fol-
lowed.

To escape it, they began to climb up the ledgy sides of
the room, hoisting themselves and Miss Lindsay up with
difficulty.

66

and

       

Gini ime

 

 

 

 

 
SN

ator a . ees Ui

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sen center ty

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. as

Not a sound was heard now but the roaring of the

water. The Indians had fled, probably out of those un-
derground galleries altogether.

Foot by foot the water mounted, driving. them higher
and higher. |

When they ould go no higher, they sat on the ledge
hey had gained and watched its slow mounting. The
light that came in through some inaccessible rifts re-
vealed its insidious advance, and it was with a strange
fascination they watched it, counting the time as well as
they could.

_ Marston sat with head bowed in his hands.

He had believed that a direct intervention of Provi-
dence had been made in his behalf, but this was shatter-
ing his faith. If that water continued to mount, there
was no way of escape. It was worse than the Indians,
for in resisting the Modocs there was excitement to
keep up the spirits. Here there was nothing but a slow
waiting for what seemed the inevitable end.

Miss Lindsay was reduced by it to a condition of help-
lessness.

California Joe stared, with agonized face.

“Buffler, I reckons ther eend has come fer ole Cali-
forny Joe,” he said slowly; “but thar’s this, Buffler:
When we goes over ther divide we kin feel that we
went tryin’ ter do our duty ther best we knowed how.
And a better companion than you, Buffler, in life er in
death, no man could ever have. I’m old, and kin go,
but I’m sorry fer you, and the woman and her husband-
that-war-ter-be. Man proposes, Buffler, and God dis-
poses. But I’m ready.”

California Joe’s words were interrupted by another
earth tremor.

Seldom is there an earthquake shock without another
following a few minutes later.

And so it was now. The walls rocked and quivered
again, those terrorizing subterranean noises came as be-
fore, and the falling of small slivers of stone was as if
a shower of pebbles had been thrown into the water.

This was followed by a deep and strange gurgling.

Miss Lindsay had clasped Marston round the shoul-
ders, believing that the end had come.

Buffalo Bill shouted when he heard the gurgling and
saw what was taking place.

“The water is falling!’ he cried.

It was subsiding rapidly before their eyes, sinking into
some hole which this last shock had opened.

With thankful hearts. they beheld it draining away

“God is still with us!’ cried Marston fervently.

 

CHAPTER XV.
A =DARING PLAN:

Within half an hour they were able to climb down
from their precarious perch, and a little later they walked
almost dry-shod out of the cavern in which the rising
water had penned them.

‘There were no signs of Indians.

Therefore, they concluded to try to find get way
out in the direction of the flight of the Modocs..

The question of whether they could get out at all,
even though unopposed by the Indians, had yet to be
settled; but they were more one now, since that
miraculous escape.

nis Nh Te

Miss Lindsay was much changed in spirit by this last
happening, it seemed so providential.. Marston declared
his fervent belief that it was a eee interposition of
God in answer to prayer.

They had gone but a short way when they came upon
the body of a dead Modoc, who had apparently been
killed by a falling stone as he fled along the gallery.

They stopped to examine the body.

“He was going in that direction,’ said Marston, “and
that indicates to us the course we'll be safest in follow-
ing. Even if the Modocs are out there, we will not
be any worse off than if cooped up in here. And I have
a feeling that after what has happened they will be so
superstitious about it that they will not even oppose ts,
but will let us pass on out. These quakes will make
them think that the earth gods are angry with them.
No one is so superstitious as your untamed Indian.”

“These things may come handy,” said the scout, as if
he did not hear this, and he began to strip off the
Modoc’s head-feathers and much of his clothing.

As he did so, he was given a gratifying surprise.

Within a fold of the Indian blanket was a loaded re-
volver, which rolled out with a clatter on the stone floor
as the scout pulled the blanket away.

The scout caught it up, with a glad cry, and in-
spected it.

“A revolver, in good condition, and loaded—every
chamber containing a cartridge! Pll warrant it was
taken from some dead trooper.’

The touch of that revolver did more to make him feel
that the victory over Modocs and all the ills of their
condition and of nature was as good as won.

He threw the blanket and head-feathers and the other
things taken over his arm, putting the Indian’s paint-pot
in his pocket; and then, swinging the revolver, he moved
on, leading the way.

Some time afterward they came in sight of a smolder-
ing fire. Indian voices reached them at the same time.

They discovered that here was an opening out of
the cavern, but that a large force of Modocs was gath-
ered there. There were men, women, and children, and
they were making a good deal of noise.

By close listening, the scout learned that the war-
riors among them were about to sally forth, probably
for the purpose of attacking the troopers.

Apparently, the Modocs had reached this point in their
efforts to get out of the earthquake-shaken galleries, and
then had learned that troopers were out in front.

After a little thought and consultation with his friends,
Buffalo Bill resolved on a daring plan.

With the help of old California Joe, he transformed
himself into a pretty good imitation of an Indian war-
rior.

He painted his face, striped it elaborately, donned the
head-dress of eagle feathers taken from the dead brave,
together with the dead Indian’s leggings and moccasins ;
and then, with the Indian blanket over all, and held up
to half cover his face, his best friend could not have told
him from an Indian, for in thus holding up the blanket
he covered the telltale mustache and imperial.

“Ugh!” he grunted savagely, in so excellent an imita-
tion of the Indian guttural that Miss Lindsay wanted to
scream. “Me heap big Modoc!”

“Buffler, it’s a resky ondertakin’.
ceed! ay

66

Ef yer don’t suc-

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

eo , THE’ BUPEALEO BILE. SFORTES.

“T must succeed!”

“Yas; but, ef yer don’t, air we ter rush ter help ye?
We ought ter have some signal, yer know.”

“It will be just this: If you are to remain back here
in hiding, I will swing my hand up so. If, in addition,
I want to inform you that I think the chances are good
for me to get through to the outside, and you are to
remain here until you hear from me, ‘T will make that
motion twice. I promise you that if man can do it, I’m
going through that group of Indians, and will get to the
troopers. We can’t hope to fight our way out of here,
and our case looks hopeless unless I can get through. I
wil get through!”

“You must take no chances.
back here to hide in, and, as the Modocs probably think
we were all killed in the earthquake, they will not trouble
to look for us. Besides, they are too frightened by what
has happened.to think of anything but setting out oS
. selves. Now, I am ready.”

“Good-by, Buffler !”

The old hunter held out his hand.

“May the Lord ppRDEr the undertaking! said Mar-
ston fervently.

“Mr. Cody; you are a brave man—a man in a thou-
sand!” was what Miss Lindsay said.

“Good-by. Keep brave hearts in your bosoms.
going through.”

They brave scout slipped away, and in the dim light
of the gallery they saw him move along at an Indian
shuffle, in a stooping posture that seemed 1 to decrease his
magnificent height by more than a foot.

They watched him as he quietly joined the excited
Indians.

' Miss Lindsay’s heart almost ceased beating, so great
was her anxiety then. But-nothing occurred to show
that in thus going boldly into their midst the scout was
even suspected by them.

A little later he reappeared on the edge of the clam-
orous group, and they saw him make the two: gestures,
indicating his belief that he could get through, and that
they were to remain secreted in the galleries.

“Waugh!” grunted old California Joe. “Buffler Bill
ferever! Thar never war another man like him fer pure
grit and cleverness!”

Lim

 

CHAPTER, XV1.
WHAT CAME OF IT.

As for Buffalo Bill, he was finding the masquerade
even easier to carry off than he had anticipated. ~
But he had not joined the Indians a moment too soon.
The Mad Chief was preparing to sally forth with the
watriors, to attack the troopers, who, it appeared, were
to be taken unawares. Another Indian trap, seemingly,
was being set for them.
Buffalo Bill did not make himself conspicuous, but
kept as much as possible in the background, and he was
helped by the ‘dim light. He judged, from things he
heard, that the place was darker than before the earth-
quake, and he saw a great heap of fallen stones near the
exit, over which the Indians would have to climb when
they issued forth.
~The Mad Chief had not been subdued by any fear
of the earth demons, even if he believed in them, yet
not more than half the force that ought to have. been

There is plenty of space .

about the Mad Chief was gathered there. Some had
doubtless escaped by other passages, and some had been
killed. That there had been a good many deaths, the
scout learned by the moanings and mutterings of the
Indian. women.

The women were so fotror rneken that but for the
warriors, who had plans of their own, they would have
rushed pell-mell out of what they now believed to be a
demon-infested place.

The scout clutched the revolver concealed in the folds
of the blanket, and crept, crouching and stooping, with
the warriors, who followed the "Mad Chief, -as fe
emerged from the gallery opening.

It was good to be out in the sunlight again.

The day was far spent, and the stn was over the
westefn mountains, yet there were still two or three
hours of daylight.

No troopers were visible, but the scout eae that
they were near, and that the Modocs purposed now to
slip on them, rain coun on them a shower of bullets and
arrows, and then charge them when they had been thus
thrown into confusion.

The scout was anxious now to discover just where the .
troopers were, and then leave the Indians and try to give
the troopers warning. But it was not a thing to be done
easily, even after the position of the troopers became
known to him, as the advance on them went on. To at-
tempt to sneak away would be to draw attention to him-
self and expose his true character.

Fortunately, the attention of the Mad ‘Chief, and of
all the other Modocs, was centered on the creeping ad-
vance they were making. Otherwise, the masquerade of
the scout might have been discovered. He kept his face
turned to the earth, to fide his features, so that only his
blanket~clothed form, his head-feathers, and his leggings
and moccasins were visible; and he spoke not a word.

Now and then he looked up quickly, to inform him-
self of the progress being made, and to try.to determine
what he had better do.

Suddenly he found himself, with the Modocs, on the
edge of a ravine in which the troopers were, the ae
ers being all unaware of their danger.

The Mad Chief began to dispose his men, putting the
riflemen at the front, choosing from among the best
marksmen, and ordering each to make sure of at least
one man.

He motioned to the scout go to one side, seeing that
he had no rifle.

The time for joa action had come; and, as the
scout crawled with shuffling movement along, in answer

_ to the motion of the Modoe chief, he fell, with apparent

clumsiness, and his revolver roared, as if it had been
discharged accidentally.
A yell of rage broke from the throat of the Mad

‘Chief.

But the alarm had been given, and Buffalo Bill heard
the quick commands of the officer below.

‘Then the Indians began to fire down into the ravine,
but they had not gained the best positions, and the ex-
citement of that unexpected ay of their presence
made them bad shots.

The Mad Chief yelled again, no longer desiring to
screen his attempt, and he was joined by all the Modocs.

In the midst of the uproar Buffalo Bill tried to crawl

farther along, hoping to get into a little hollow he saw —

there, and so escape from the Modocs altogether...’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOP SREB

 

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

The rallying troopers returned the Indian rifle fire,
and then, with characteristic dash, began to charge up
the slope of the ravine on the attacking Modocs.

The Mad Chief tried to rally his panicky followers,
whose shooting was so ineffective that scarcely a trooper
was hit.

- In doing so, he dashed along near Buffalo Bill, who
was still trying to make a secure retreat.

Something in the scout’s appearance, or manner, or
in his movement toward the hollow, aroused the Mad
Chief’s suspicion, and he rushed upon the scout, swing-
ing his tomahawk as if to brain him.

It recalled to the scout that other frenzied dash made
on him by this chief on the tottering tree trunk over
that cafion.

He wheeled about and threw up his revolver to shoot
the Modoc, but the tomahawk was whirling through the
air.

It struck the revolver, instead of the scout’s head, and
knocked the weapon to a ground, numbing the scout’s
arm.

Then the roar of rage wie came from the Mad Chief
indicated that he had discovered Buffalo Bill’s decep-

tion.

An instant later he had rushed on the scout, with
drawn knife, and the combat was hand to hand and of
the deadliest character, for the chief forgot the warriors
he had been trying to rally, forgot the charging and
yelling troopers, and remembered only that he. was face
to face with the hated Long Hair, whose life more than
once he had sworn to have.

Buffalo Bill heard dimly the rushing of moccasined
feet, the yells of the warriors, and the charging cheers
of the troopers, the twanging of bowstrings, and the
crack of rifles and revolvers; but it was all a swimming
medley, like a section of a dream, for he was now bat-.
tling desperately with an Indian, who was not only a
skilled fighter and a powerful man, but whose half-
crazed brain seemed to give him’ supernatural strength
and terrible recklessness.

Having lost his revolver, and having no other weapon,
the scout caught the chief’s knife- hand, and then fol-
lowed a struggle for possession of the weapon.

To and fro they reeled, like drunken men, as they bat-
tled for that knife.

The scout had gripped the chief’s wrist with a strength
that could not be broken.

Reeling thus, they stumbled together into the hollow.

It was a backward movement for the chief. Catching
his heel in the grass, he fell, the scout dropping on top
of him.

The scout’s blanket had fallen off, together with his
head-dress, and, though his face was still painted, he was
revealed clearly now as a white man.

He was still trying to get possession of the knife, and
had set the fingers of one hand to the chief’s throat,
when the chief gave a sudden lurching jerk, and then
fell back, dead.

A bullet fired by a galloping trooper had struck him
in the head, and the fight was in that instant ended.

Buffalo Bill staggered to his feet, stared a moment at
the dead chief, and then ran to get his revolver.

The fight with the Mad Chief was_over, yet not in a
manner he had planned. But he was not sorry it was
not his hand, after all, which had slain the half-insane

Modoc chieftain.

pet Sear petal
Se Me Ty

BILL STORIES. 27
CHAPTER XVil.

CONCLUSION.

To California Joe and the others with him in the gal-
leries of the lava beds there came more than a hint of
what was going on outside.

For one thing, they heard, though faintly, the crack-
ing of the rifles and the Indian yells.

Then some of the frightened Indian women and chil-
dren dashed back along the passage, as if seeking shelter
in the event of the defeat of the warriors; and as they
hurried along, passing the fugitive whites in hiding, the
latter heard snatches of their talk, which was a revela-
tion of the purpose of the warriors.

“Marston,” said California Joe, “I’m longin’ powerful
te

ter be out thar!
“Don’t you think we might make it?’ Marston asked
eagerly,
“Ther warriors air all outside, seems ter me.”
“And we needn’t fear the women and children.”

“T dunno about that, for in my experience an Injun
squaw with a knife in her hand is as dangerous an
animile as ther world affords. But, jes’ ther same, I'd
like ter try ter see ef we can’t git out o’ hyar while that
hullabaloo is goin’ on. Buffler said fer us ter stay in
hyar, but allers it ain’t posserble ter give orders ahead
that’s got ter be obeyed liter’ly. Ef he could give an
order now, he mout say fer us ter break out while thar
seems ter be a chance.”

Marston glanced at the trembling woman by his side.
“Your opinion, Julia?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said. “I’m so confused
I haven’t an opinion. Whatever California Joe says is
best to do I’m willing to try. Oh, what is that?”

“More of ther Injun women comin’ back. Seems ter
me ther fight is goin’ ag’inst ther Modocs.”

They still hesitated, until, at last, California Joe de-
clared his belief that the time for an effort to escape had
come.

“Ther women may diskiver us hyar, and then we'll ©
have trouble. I’m a lover of women, but not Injun
squaws, with their mad up and meat-knives in their
hands. I allus prays fer ther good Lord ter send me
fast in another direction when them kind of critters air
rampin’ round. And they’ll be fireier than peppers ef the
fight goes against ther bucks.”

They slipped along the gallery, keeping close to the
walls; and, seeing that they would have to make a bold
dash, they rushed, yelling, at the small group of women
and children gathered near the exit; and, as they thus
charged, they hurled stones for missiles.

3

ok ok ok * 2k *k *

Buffalo Bill was running at the head of the troopers,
springing along like a youth, as he guided them toward
the point where he had emerged from the galleries ee
the Modocs braves.

The warriors had been scattered in flight, and many
of them lay dead on the black lava slopes and on the
edge of the ravine.

As the scout thus ran along, guiding the troopers, he
witnessed an astonishing sight.

Old California Joe popped up out of the ground, ap-

 
 

28 THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

parently, beset by an Indian squaw, who tore furiously at
his hair, and yelled like a demon with every dig she gave
him. Her skinny claws were working like automatic
hooks.
_ Right behind California Joe emerged Marston and
Miss Lindsay, each fighting back Indian women, who
seemed to be trying to seize them.

“Waugh!” yelled the old hunter. “Stop it—stop it!
Great Jehoshaphat! leave me a little ha’r, can’t ye?
Waugh!’

Other women seemed to be following the three white
people, but they dropped back into the gallery and dis-
appeared when they saw the troopers.

Buffalo Bill caught the skinny squaw by the arm and
sent her whirling away from the old hunter, who sank
down, breathing heavily.

The squaw fell, thus bringing herself to a halt; and
then she leaped up, with a screech, and dived into the
gallery opening like a prairie-dog descending into its
hole.

The other squaws imitated this example.
“Vm all right, Buffler,” said old Joe, coughing, an
then trying to laugh, with a sense of relief. ‘““That fe-
male cyclone is gone, and I’m all right. I’m truly a
lover of women, but——”
He shook his head sadly.

  

The Modocs tried to rally again, and they made an-
other fight for possession of the lava beds.

But they had already lost some of their best warriors.
The death of the Mad Chief, even though in so many
of his actions he seemed insane, deprived them of their
most capable leader. He was almost a madman at
times, yet he was daring, and in his better moments he
was a clever commander. y

The women and children held as prisoners in the lava
beds were rescued; and, though they had been badly
frightened by the earthquake shocks, they emerged from
their imprisonment practically unharmed.

Thus ended the Modoc uprising.

A few months later, in the city of San Francisco,
young Marston and Julia Lindsay were united in mar-
tiage. Conspicuous among the wedding-guests were old
California Joe and Buffalo Bill.

THE END,

Next week’s issue, No. 271, will be “Buffalo Bill and
the Traitor Soldier; or, Mair Inez, the Pearl of the
Post.” Here is a border story of rattling incident and
quick movement, giving something of army life at a
frontier fort and in the Indian country, with Buffalo Bill
as the hero and leading figure.

 

 

 

“ABOUT THE EARLY
NUMBERS OF THE

 

 

 

  

print.

 

MEDAL LIBRARY
No. :

150—Frank Merriwell’s Schooldays.

 

gE receive hundreds of letters every week from readers asking if we can supply the early numbers of Tip Top

# containing Frank’s adventures.. In every case we are obliged to reply that numbers 1 to 300 are entirely out of
we We would like to cali the attention of our readers to the fact that the Frank Merriwell Stories now -

being published in book form in the Medal Library are inclusive of these early numbers. The first book to appear
was No. 150 entitled ‘‘Frank Merriwell’s Schooldays.’? We give herewith a complete list of all stories that have been
published in book form up to the time of writing. We will be glad to send a fine colored catalogue of the Medal
Library which is just filled with good things for. boys, upon receipt of a one-cent stamp to cover postage.

 

MEDAL LIBRARY
No.

271—Frank Merriwell’s Chase.

 

 

167—-Frank Merriwell’s Chums.
178—Frank Merriwell’s Foes.
184—Frank Merriwell’s Trip West.
189—Frank Merriwell Down South.
193—Frank Merriwell’s Bravery.
t9o7—-Frank Merriwell’s Hunting Tour.
201—Frank Merriwell in Europe.
208—-Frank Merriwell at Yale.
2090—Frank Merriwell’s Sports Afield,
213—Frank Merriwell’s Races.
217—Frank Merriwell’s Bicycle Tour.
225—Frank Merriwell’s Courage. ;
229—Frank Merriwell’s Daring.
233—Frank Merriwell’s Athletes.
237—Frank Merriwell’s Skill.
240—Frank Merriwell’s Champions.
244—-Frank Merriwell’s Return to Yale
247—Frahk Merriwell’s Secret.
2si—Frank Merriwell’s Danger.

276—Frank Merriwell in Maine.
280—Frank Merriwell’s Struggle.
284—Frank Merriwell’s First Job.
288—Frank Merriwell’s Opportunity.
292—F rank Merriwell’s Hard Luck.
296—Frank Merriwell’s Protégé.
300—Frank Merriwell on the Road,
304—Frank Merriwell’s Own Company.
308—Frank Merriwell’s Fame.
312—Frank Merriwell’s College Chums, ,
316—Frank Merriwell’s Problem.
320—Frank Merriwell’s Fortune.
324—Frank Merriwell’s New Comedian,
328—Frank Merriwell’s Prosperity.
332—Frank Merriwell’s Stage Hit.
336—Frank Merriwell’s Great Scheme,
340—Frank Merriwell in England.
344—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards,
348—Frank Merriwell’s Duel.
352—Frank Merriwell’s Double Shot.

 

254—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty.

356—Frank Merriwell’s Baseball Victories,

 

258—-Frank Merriwell in Camp.
262—Frank Merriwell’s Vacation.
_267—Frank Merriwell’s Cruise.

 

 

 

 

 

The Price of the Merriwell Books is Ten Cents per Copy. At all Newsdealers

359—Frank Merriwell’s Confidence.
362—Frank Merriwell’s Auto.
365—Frank Merriwell’s Fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
     

   

 

ISSUED EVERY MONDAY.

HANDSOME COLORED COVER

 

Ted Strong wants to make your acquaintance, boys, and we are

convinced that you will be proud to have him as a friend. The

tales of his adventures among the cowboys are full of fascinating

interest.

and he upholds the title.

PRICE FIVE CENTS

He is known to every one as “King of the Wild West’

PER COPY

For sale by all ceustenirs or sent, by the publishers to any address upon receipt of price In money of postage stamps

 

 

HERE ARE THE LATEST TITLES:

94—King of the Wild West’s Submarine; or, The
Search for Sunken Treasure.

95—King of the Wild West’s Finish; or, The Great
Stone Door.

96—King of the Wild West’s Peril; or, The Cannibals
of Tiburon Island.

~97—King of the Wild West’s Strange Quest; or, The

White Princess of Sonora.
98—King of the Wild West’s Horsethief; or, The
; Enigma of Lost Springs.
99—King of the Wild West’s Chase; or, The Rescue
of Yuen Ho.
too—King of the Wild West’s Meteor; or, The Race AS
the Klondike Diamond,
to1—King of the Wild West in Siberia; or, Castaway on
the Arctic Ocean.
102—King of the Wild West’s Haunt; or, Stella’s Escape
from Sacrifice,
103—King of the Wild West’s Dive; or, The Finding of
‘the “Golden Baby.”
oe the Wild West’ s Guard; or, Stella’s Long
Ou:

tos—King of the Wild West’s Posse; or, Stella’s Own

Vigilance Committee.
106—King of the Wild West Underground; or, Stella
to the Rescue.

 

107—King of the Wild West’s Brand; or, How Stella
Held the Fort.

108—King of the Wild West’s Campaign; or, How Stella
Won the Victory.

1og—King of the Wild West’s Booty;-or, Stella Finds
the, Pirate Loot.

110—King of the Wild West’s Success; or, Stella and the
Marked Bill.

111—King of the Wild West’s Daring; or, Stella’s Great
Lariat Throw.

112—Kine of the Wild West’s Key; or, ee in the
Hidden Vault.

113—King of the Wild West’s lasuayetnper ; Or, Stella
in the Death Cavern.

114—King of the Wild West’s Strength; or, Stella oni
the Cattle Ranch.

115—King of the Wild West’s Danger; or, Stella among
the Hopis.

t16—King of the Wild West’s Gulch Diggings; or,
Stella’s Star Role.

117—King of the Wild West’s Motor-Car; or, Stélla
Fosdick’s Peril.

118—King of the Wild West's Duty; or, Stella Cast
Away in the Wilderness.

‘I1g—King of the Wild West’s Wild-Goose Band; or,

Stella’s bs Flight,

 

LE

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Cut out and fill in the following order blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and we will send them to you by return mail.

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UNAIDO oda sivesees as seees Motes coos eee ca so ceceesee Street. aud INOW. sie. csecascossee
a

487—Diamond Dick’s Strange Debt;

 

 

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Diamond Dick and his son, Bertie, are true men of the Western

plains.

They are noble-hearted fellows who don’t impose on the weaker

man and who don’t let anyone else do it if they can help it.
You ought to read how they clean up a mining camp of the dis-
honest gamblers and other toughs who usually prey on the uneducated

miners.

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HERE ARE THE

486—Diamond Dick for the Flag; or, Holding His Own
Under Old Glory.

or, Keeping His
Word with a Scoundrel.

488—Diamond Dick’s Dumb Pard; or, The Ghost of
Black Cafion.

489-——Diamond Dick’s Long Race; or, Neck and Neck a.
Big Stakes.

490—Diamond Dick in the Rapids; or, That Pale Man
from Oregon.

491—Diamond Dick’s Red Foe; or, The Renegade of the
Cascades.

492—Diamond Dick’s Secret Scent; or, The Doom of the |

Three Masked Men.

493—Diamond Dick’s Master-Hand; or, The Battle of
the Green-Eyed Demon.

494—Diamond Dick in the Breakers; or, The Life-
Savers of Vancouver.

495—Diamond Dick’s Lucky Ace; or, Turning the Trump

: in a Hard Game.

496—Diamond Dick’s Death Chase;
Weasel to Earth.

497—Diamond Dick’s Vampire Trail; or, The Mad
Horseman of Thunder Mountain.

or, Running a

498—Diamond Dick On the Dead Line; or, A’ Close Call
Among the Utes.

 

LATEST TITLES:

499—Diamond Dick’s Lost Trail; or, A Queer Hunt in
Oregon.

500—Diamond Dick’s Midnight Duel; or, The Girl Ban-

© dit of Powder River.

50I—Diamond Dick On His Nerve; or, The Oath of the
Inner Circle.

502—Diamond Dick At the Wheel;
Death on the Mississippi.

503—Diamond Dick’s Show-Down; or, Calling a Bad
Man’s Bluff.

504—Diamond Dick’s Strange Guest; or, The Outlaw
Marksman of Arkansas.

505—Diamond Dick’s Hit and Miss; or, The Man With
Six Notches On His Gun.

506—Diamond Dick’s Fight For a Girl; or, The Tender-
foot of Bellair Gulch.

507—Diamond Dick’s Underground Trail; or, The Yel-
low Demon of the Sierras.

508—Diamond Dick’s Cross-Counter; or, A Big Battle
for the Belt.

509—Diamond Dick’s Good Right Hand; or, A Dark
Plot in Chinatown.

510—Diamond Dick’s Bravery; or, The Three Amazons
of the Mojave.

511—Diamond Dick’s Double Trail; or, The Apparition
of the Big Tree.

or, A Race With

 

 

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Cut out and fill in the following order blank and send it to us with the price of the books you want and we will send them to you by return mail,

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ne copies of BURFALO BILL —_No8.....----.---.--s-eeedeuceoeveeves Le

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~ Beffalo Bill wins his way into the heart of every
one who reads these strong stories of stirring adventure
on the wide prairies of the West.

Boys, if you want tales of the West that are
drawn true to life, do not pass these by.

PRICE FIVE CENTS

PER COPY

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, by the publishers to any, address upon receipt of price in money or postage stamps: |

 

 

HERE ARE THE
248—Buffalo Bill’s Creek Quarrel ; or, Long Hair’s Long
Shot.
249—Buffalo Bill Among the Pawnees; or, Nick Whar-
ton’s Redskin Chum. .
250—Buffalo Bill on a Long Hunt; or, The Tracking of
Arrowhead.

251—Buffalo Bill’s Wyoming Trail; or, The Conquering
of Red Hand.

252—Buffalo Bill and the Redskin Wizard ; or, The

-. + Mystery of Biting Adder.
253—Buffalo Bill’s Bold Challenge; or, Fighting Red-
; skins in the River.
254—Buffalo Bill’s Shawnee Stampede; or, Evil Heart’s
5 Last Call. .
25%—Buffalo Bill’s Worst Foe; or, The Gide Panther
sof the Stoux..

256—Buffalo Bill On a Desert. Trail ; or, , The Mystery of

_ the Mojave.

257—Buftalo  Bill’s Rio Grande Feud; or, The Giant of
the Apaches. ©"

258—Buffalo ‘Bill in Tight Quarters; or, The Ruse of
the Jumping Tarantula.

259—Buffalo. Bill’s. Daring Rescue} or,
Wolves.

260—Buffalo Bill at the Torture Brake: or, A Close Call
Among the Utes.

261—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Train; or, Te Doom a

the False Guide.

Hunted. by

 

LATEST TITLES:

262—Buffalo Bill Among the Blackfeet; or, The Wizard
of the Wind River Mountains.

263—Buffalo Bill’s Border Beagles; or, The Trail of
Gold and Death.

264—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black; or, The Wild
Riders of the Wilderness.

265—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Tiger; or, The Leap
for Life.

266—Buffalo Bill on the Deadwood Trail; or, Cat-Eye,
the Sioux Renegade.

267—Buffalo Bill in the Cafion of Death; or, Ringed
In by Navajos.

268—Buffalo Bill and Billy the Kid; or, The Desperadoes
of. Apache Land.

269—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Roden King; or, Tee
White Tarantula of Texas.

270—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Wonders; or, The Mad
Chief of the Madocs.

271—Buffalo Bill and the Traitor Soldier; or, Fair Inez,
the Pearl of the Post.

272—-Buffalo Bill’s Dusky Trailers; or, The Bandits at
‘Bay.

273—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Mine; or, The Bedouins
of the Plains,

274—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent; or, The Ven-
detta of Death.

275—Buffalo Bill’s Scarlet Hand; or, The Accusing

* Blood Stain. :

 

 

4

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HE old popular favorite, Frank Merriwell, has signalized his triumphant return to the pages il
a of TIP TOP, beginning with No. 512, by opening a novel

SCHOOL OF
ATHLETIC DEVELOPMENT

where he has put into practice some clever schemes long entertained, with the idea of building up

the ‘constitutions of backward lads. Here, there has naturally opened up a glorious opportunity ,

for meeting new characters; while the strange adventures and thrilling situations connected with
* up-to-date American sports are handled as only Frank Mertiwell knows how.

The famous TIP TOP promises great things from this time on to its world-wide circle of

j, admirers, and with this novel field open to such a talented pen, you may rest assured, boys, Burt
PL. Standish will spread such a feast before you as has never before been dreamed of.
Tell all your young friends that Frank has come back to his own, better equipped than

evet to arouse the interest and enthusiam of his vast army of boy admirers. Consult the catalogue
be below for titles. |

 

519—Frank Mertiwell’s Mode; or, Winning the Confidence of a Wild Lad.
520—Frank Merriwell’s Aids; or, “The Secret Order of Scalp Lifters.”
521—Dick Merriwell’s Visit; or, Hot Times at Farnham Hall,

522—Dick Merriwell’s Retaliation; or, Fardale Against Farnham Hall.
~523—Dick Merriwell’s Rival; or, Dale Sparkfair at Fardale,

524—Frank Merriwell’s Young Crew; or, The Mystery of the Boat House.
525—Frank Merriwell’s Fast Nine; or, Champions of the County.
526—Frank Merriwell’s Athletic Field; or, The Great Meet at Bloomfield.
527—Dick Merriwell’s Reprisal; or, The Clash of the Champions.
528—Dick Merriwell Dared; or, The Grapple at Wellsburg.

529—Dick Merriwell’s Dismay; or, The Departure of June.

530—Frank Merriwell’s Son; or, The Mark of the Star.

531—Frank Merriwell’s Old Flock ; or, The Reunion at Merry House.
532—Frank Merriwell’s House Party; or, The Rustle With the Rovers.
533—Dick Merriwell’s Summer Team; or, Baseball in the Blue Hills,
534—Dick Merriwell’s Demand; or, The Draw at Madawaska.

535—Dick Merriwell’s Slabmate; or, The Boy from Bloomfield.

536—Frank Merriwell’s Summer Camp; or, The Athletic School in the
Woods.

537—Frank Merriwell’s Proposal; or, Starting the Sport in the League,

 

 

 

Price, Five Cents.

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent postpaid by the publishers
upon receipt of price.

STREET @ SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK

 

 

 

LC

 

 

 
 

 

 
 
THE FAVORITE LIST

OF FIVE-CENT LIBRARIES

 

 

 

 

 

the Redskins.
BILL STORIES

 

 

 

BUPPALO. BILL STORIES

Buffalo Bill is the hero of a thousand exciting adventures among
These are given to our boys only in the BUFFALO
They are bound to interest and please you.

 

 

 

 

MIGHT AND MAIN

These are stories of the adven-
tures of boys who succeeded in
climbing the ladder of fame by
honest effort. No more inter-
esting tales can be imagined.
Each number is at least one-third
longer than the ordinary five-
cent library.

 

 

 

 

NICK CARTER WEEKLY

We know, boys, that there is
no need of introducing to you
Nicholas .. Carter, the greatest
sleuth that ever. lived. . Every
number containing the adven-
tures of Nick Carter has a peculiar,
but delightful, power of fascina-
tion.

 

 

ene

 

 

 

ou ay

-| his reading matter, ought to

BRAVE AND BOLD

LETE STORY EVERY WEEK
m ie

Every boy who prefers variety

| be a reader of Brave and Bold.

2 | ‘All these were written by authors

| who are past masters in the art
| of telling boys’ stories.
tale is complete in itself.

Every

Ted Strong was appointed dep- | jj

uty marshal by accident, but he |. sess

resolves to use his authority and

rid his ranch of some very tough ||,

bullies.
way that everyone calls him]
“King of the Wild West” and he |
certainly deserves his title.

He does it in sucha slick | beer, -

;
|
bes ets

 

 

 

|

The demand for stirring stories

2 of Western adventure is admir-

Fhuaginren ges ETS

ex THELONE Bax TOFT

E SIERRAS

| ably filled by this library. Every
| up-to-date boy ought to read just
how law and order are estab-
lished and maintained on our

4 | Western plains by Diamond Dick,

| Bertie, and Handsome Harry.

 

 

BOWERY. BOY LIBRARY :-

The adventures of a poor waif f
whose only name is ‘Bowery
Billy.”

of the streets of New York. No

boy can read the tales of his trials | | .
without imbibing some of that | ©

resource and courage that makes
the character of this homeless boy
stand out so prominently.

Billy is the true product |

Ve ae

 

 

 

 

opment.

THE (iP TOP WEEKLY

Boys, Frank Merriwell has opened a school of physical devel-
He has gathered all of his old-time comrades about him
and their adventures are wonderfully interesting.
tainly the best tales of athletic adventure.

These are cer-