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No. 342 _—_—_NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 30, 1907. | Price, Five Cents

 

Scere Be
Pag

oi aie

 

 

 

 

 

Quick as a flash Buffalo Bill flung the rope which he was carrying in his hand, and the loop
of it caught the catamount squarely in its flight.

 
 

 
 

A WEEKLY. PUBLICATION :

 

‘DEVOTED TO BORDER LIFE |

 

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Bill weekly is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffalo Bill, ae W. F. Cody), who is known at

over the world as the king of scouts.

 

No. 342.

Price Five ce

 

i BUFFALO BILL'S

NEW YORK, November 30, 1907. |

\

ARMY MYSTERY:

OR,

THE ROPE-AND-CATAMOUNT PUZZLE.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPPER I.
. IN THE ARROYO.
“Tt’s a queer trail, Nick, ae
agen queer, Buffler.”
“Tt was, made. by two horses, that’s as clear as print.”

sa neeee

Roane
Ne Boi ens San’ both hoses had riders. or else one of ‘em

“toted a pack, Ther way. the hoofs sink inter ther sand
proves thet both critters was loaded.”

“1 don’t think either horse was used for packing, Nick.
A pack-animal is either driven ahead, or towed behind,

» and these two horse-trails run side by ‘side.”

. “Tally for you, Buffler. As Catermount Tom useter
say, I know as much as Pard Bill ef I could only think
'o et’ Iwo riders passed along this hyar way.. We

: . know ther hosses was loaded by ther way the hoofs dug

| liter the yarth, an’ we know they was loaded with men
_ bekase et’s a straight trail—proof. thet thar was human
hands at ther bits. %

eOne horse was an army mount, and the other an In-

 dign cayuse.’

“Snore, od

ragged hoofs thet never felt iron. How comes et thet
a sojer an’ a Injun was travelin’ erlong so amiable acrost

x

-each other in surprise.

One set er hoof-prints is shod with
iron shoes, while t’other set er eG was made by

a kentry like this? Thar must be a nigger ih ther army
wood-pile, ter sorter borry a sayin’ er Catamount’s ag’n.

Buffalo Bill, the king of scouts, was traveling across
a bleak stretch of New Mexican soil, stirrup to stirrup
with his trapper pard, Old Nick Nomad. They were
en route from Fort Thomas to Fort Cummings, near Sil-
ver City, bearing important despatches from Colonel Ed-
gerton to Colonel Costigan. They were following no
road, but weré striking boldly across country, laying
their course by the sun. Their surprise was great, there-
fore, to chance upon the well-defined trail of two horses, .
running in parallel lines across the sandy plain.

The trail had been made at a comparatively recent
period. As the tracks bore generally in the direction the
scout and the trapper were traveling, out of curiosity
more thfn anything else the two pards followed, specu-
lating as they rode.

The hoof-prints pointed toward a range of low hills, |

in the northeast. As the two pards drew close to the
foot, of the hills, both suddenly drew rein and looked at
They had reached a point where
the two sets of hoof-tracks had doubled into four sets.
“Waugh!” muttered the perplexed Nomad.
somethin’ miystifyin’.

Now what dye think o’ thet,
Buffler ?”’ a :

 

“No place
-js so fur from. civylization thet a feller can’t run onter
Pe THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

“Tt’s-easy to read the trails, Nick,” answered the scout,
surveying the ground thoughtfully, “although it is far
from easy to tell what caused the peculiar movements of
the horses that made them.” ae

Buffalo Bill shaded his eyes with his hand and swept
the slopes of the hills; at last he settled back in his
saddle,

“Two men, a white soldier and perhaps an Indian,” he
went on, “rode across the level straight for the mouth
of an arroyo that opens out in that range of uplifts.
Some time later, the Indian, or at least the man riding
the Indian cayuse, rode back from the arroyo leading the
soldier’s horse, and the soldiers horse had an empty
saddle.” one

All this the scout’s trained eye had told him, and he
was as sure of what he read on the surface of the sandy
plain'as he would have been of printed lines in a news-
paper.

“Ar? ther Injun with ther led hoss,” pursued Nomad,
“furned ter his left, arter doublin’ this fur back on ther
trail, an’ made south’ard erlong ther base o’ ther hills.”

“That's clear,” said the scout; “no possible doubt about
it, a

“Some pizen deviltry afoot!” averred Nomad. “Looks
like ther Injun had coaxed ther sojer inter thet arroyo,
an’ then give him er start along ther trail that leads ter
kingdom come. No trustin’ a red, anyways. Ther sojer
got his right come-up-with ef he done et.”

“Let’s not be too hasty in judging matters, Nick,” cau-
tioned the scout, “‘from the mere evidence of the, horse-
tracks. ‘There’s a mystery here, and, although we're due
at Cummings as soon as we can get there, I’m not averse
to spending an hour or two at this point in an effort to
see what we can discover.”

“Wuh! Ye define ther exact state er my own feelin’s,
Buffler. When ther whirl o’ events throws a puzzlin’
thing like this across my course, | likes ter foller et up.
Ef [ don’t foller such a thing, an’ settle et, et’s bound
ter crop up, off an’ on, an’ bother me a heap.”

“We're not likely to settle this, Nick, by an hour or

two's investigation, but we'll find out what we can. ‘In _ ‘
“and hanging from the rope that bound him to the tree.

This was the astonishing situation which spread itself:

otder to cover the most ground in the shortest possible
time, you can follow the trail along the base of the hills
and I’ll go on into the arroyo. Don’t follow the trail for
more than an hour, Nick.. Come back here at the end of
that time, whether anything turns up, or not.”

Berect, Butter: :

- Nomad turned his horse and the two pards separated,
proceeding along courses that led at right angles to each
other. a

The scout was now following four sets of hoof-marks,
two sets heading toward the arroyo and two sets point-
ing from it. Something had happened”in the arroyo the
scout felt sure. Would it prove to have been a tragedy?
_ As he drew closer to the opening in the hills, Buffalo
- Bill made out a thick growth of mesquit bushes, almost
closing the entrance. Wherever there are mesquit
bushes there is apt to be water, if not at the surface then
certainly not a great way below it.

The arroyo might not be the dry bed of a stream, but
might contain the stream itseli—one of those tricky
Southwestern streams that seemingly come from nowhere,
flow a short distance, and vanish into the thirsty sands.

Thinking that perhaps he might find a cooling draft
for his horse and a refreshing drink for himself in the

arroyo, the scout urged his mount at a swifter pace,

thickly covered with mesquit.

The tracks before him, he observed, had merged into
single file, which was necessary in order to force a pas-
sage through the entrance to the cleft. The bushes gre
so thickly, in the narrow passage, that the scout
obliged to force his way through, protecting his fa
with his arms. — ca re cee

A coiled riata swung from his saddle-horn. A scra- |
ping mesquit limb caught in the ‘coils of the rope and dis- 4
placed the long hempen strand. On reaching a clearer q
space, a little beyond the entrance, the scout began coiling

the rope in with his hands. se a”

When he had reached the noose, he spurred onward, _,
without replacing the rope on the pommel,

There was no water visible in the arroyo’s bottom, and
yet the vegetation that met the scout’s eyes proved that

water must be very close to the surface. ay

The arroyo was sparsely timbered’ and, in places,
The change from ‘the
barren, sun-séorched plain was intensely refreshing, even

though the scout and his horse were denied the antici~ ie

pated draft of water. -
Buffalo Bill’s eyes wandered along the defile, finally

_alighting on something that claimed his surprised atten-

tion, On the arroyo’s steep side, about five feet up the ©
slope, was a large boulder, projecting outward from a
tangle of bushes.
What the scout saw-was the head of a large catamount,
pushing through the bushes where the boulder joined the
arroyo-bank. o
Slowly the animal advanced along the boulder, crouch-
ing, the muscles rippling back and forth under its velvet
coat. It paid no attention to the scout, but seemingly had 4
its eyes fixed on something at a little distance. ae
Curiously, as he rode forward, the scout followed the
direction of the brute’s eyes. Another surprise thrilled
through him.
Some ten feet from the end of the boulder was a tree,
and bound with ropes to the trunk of the tree was a man
in the uniform of a United States Army officer. it
The officer’s cap lay on the ground at his feet, and his
head was drooping forward... His whole body was limp,

out before Buffalo Bill’s eyes as if by magic.
The catamount, creeping along the boulder, was

plainly preparing itself for a spring upon the officer.

‘The scout, hoping to reach the helpless man before thie —
animal made his leap, spurred at swifter pace. In this

he did not succeed. Keeping one eye on the brute as he

rode, he saw the sinuous form reach the end of the

boulder, crouch until its belly touched the rock, then rise —

in the air. ee
Quick as a flash Buffalo Bill flung the rope, which

he was carrying in his hand, and the loop of it caught |

the catamount squarely in its flight.

CHAPTER I. -
A PUZZLING SITUATION.

The end of the riata was attached to the pommel of the .
scout’s saddle. Not all of the thirty-foot rope was “
needed, however, and the scout made a quick half-hitch

around the horn with the slack. A touch of the reins y

and the horse reared back, meeting the jerk as the rope ie

 

 
  

    
  

 

 

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ane
a,

Ow

Se Chet

PaO

 

 
 
 

  

 

 

  

slipped from his saddle and ran to the tree.
aloud as he ran, but the drooping head of the officer did

and he had a sluggish but strong pulse.

the rope in my hands, I let it go, snagging the cata-

THE BUFFALO

 

yy i : aus a .,
became taut and drawing the noose to a strangling pres-
sure.

_ Snarling furiously, the catamount turned a somersault
in mid-air, falling to the ground on its back. - There it
rolled, for a moment, scratching at its throat with its
front paws. Another moment and it had bounded up.
Wheezing for breath, it leaped at Buffalo Bill. His rifle

was already at his shoulder, and the hoarse sping of it

echoed through the arroyo. .

A second time the catamount dropped to the ground,
this time writhing in a death agony. Presently it stif-
fened out and lay still.

_ Paying no further attention to the brute, the scout
He called

not lift, and there was no movement of the lax limbs.
Whipping out his knife, the scout cut the ropes, the
‘officer crumpling to the ok as soon as their support
was removed. :
The officer was a man oe perhaps thirty years—a hand-
some fellow, with curly yellow hair and clean-cut fea-
tures. His uniform, that of a lieutenant, was covered

with alkali dust and showed evidence of recent hard

usage. :
There was no sign of a wound upon the officer’s person,
He continued
unconscious, even after the scout had forced water from
a canteen Gowe his throat. It was a strange case; and if
the officer had. not been the man he. was Buffalo Bill
would have thought he was shamming.

While the scout knelt beside the silent a, Old
Nomad pushed through the brushy entrance to the ar-
royo, leading a horse with an empty saddle.

“W hoop-ya, Buffler!” shouted the trapper. ae ye
gott”
“I'm up to my eyes in a knotty tangle, Nick,’ ce

the scout, starting’ to his fect.
that horse: cy

‘ihe critter was browsin’ on some mesquit bushes at
ther foot o° ther hills—seen him a leetle while arter I left

“Where did you pick up

you. Et’s easy ter tell by their trappin’s ther hos belongs

ter Uncle Sam. However he come ter be loose is more’n
I know, less’n ther Injun cast him adrift—which wouldn’t
be. like er Injun, noways.”

_“Did the Indian’s trail keep on along the foot of the

hills 2”

“Thet’s what et done. Ther Injun had drapped ther
hoss, er ther hoss had got erway, an’ ther Injun kept
right on travelin’ jest as though ther lost critter wasn’t
a vallyble bit o’ property. ’Bout ther time I grabbed
holt o’ ther animile I heard a shot, kinder faintlike, from
this hyar way. I knowed somethin’ was bein’ done in this

arroyo, so I hot-footed et back.”

Nomad, who had drawn quite close by that time, oe

- to a halt and looked at the dead catamount, and the rope
connecting it with Buffalo Bill’s horse.

aE fired the shot you heard, Nick,” said the scout.
An brought ao ther catermount, Butferr: 7 -

“Ves

“Whyever i is ther abe around ther critter’s neck?”

ae | “It was creeping around that boulder, there,” and Buf- ~
aio Bill pointed to the rock in the steep bank of the ar-
‘royo.

“Just as 1 got where my horse is standing, the
catamount leaped toward the tree.- Happening to have

f

mount in mid- -air.

“served ;
you!” he added, dropping down and giving the officer a

BILL STORIES. — ae 5

 

rifle.”
“Why was ther catermount icp fer ther tree?”

“There was a man tied to the tree.”

Stepping aside so that Nomad could get a look at the
foot of the tree, the scout pointed to ‘the silent form of
the officer.

_ Nomad stared as if in a daze.

is) ther feller done for, Buffler?” he asked, rousing
himself.

“T can’t find a wound on him, Nick, and his heart is
going, all right, but I can’t bring him to, He’s Deen
lying like that ever since I cut him loose from the tree.”

The trapper dismounted, dropped the reins of the led
horse over his saddle- horn, and followed suit with his
own lines over the scout’s pommel; then he walked to the
officer’s side and stood looking down into his calm, un-
conscious face. From a survey of the officer, the old
man’s gaze wandered to the dead catamount and the riata.

“Ther rope-an’-catermount puzzle,’ he muttered, shov-
ing his fingers through his long hair/in a bewildered Way.
“Tt’s shore pizen hard ter git head er tail ter et, Ther
Injun coaxed ther orficer inter this hyar oe T reckon,
then roped him ter ther tree.”

“That’s the way it looks, Nick.”

“Whatever was this hyar husky orficer a-doin’, Buffler,
while the red was treatin’. him so? “Thar ain’t no bruises
on ther sojer, no signs of er fight, but et ain’t hardly ter)
be supposed ther orficer backed up ter ther tree an’ in--
vited ther red ter tie him.”

Certainly not.”’

“Anyways, ” and Old Nomad’s forehead wrinkled per-
plexedly, “ther Injun shore did tie him, kase ther sojer
couldn’t tie himself, an’ ther Injun was ther on’y one er- —
long. Arter fastenin’ ther orficer ter ther tree, ther red

rides away with ther orficer’s hoss, carbine at ther pom-

mel. an’ two army Colts in ther holsters—which same
hardware is still at ther saddle. Then I picks up hoss
an’ all, Waugh! Say, Buffler, I’m plum tangled. Ther
further we purceed i in this hhyar biznes, thet less we kin
find out.”

“The more we find out, Nick,” commented: Buffalo Bill,
“but the less we understand.”

“Waal, et was lucky for ther yaller-headed sojer thet
ye got hyar just in time ter rope ther catermount.” No-
mad’s puzzled eyes again rested on the limp form at the
foot of the tree. ‘Looks like he might he asleep,” he ob-
“mighty “stonishin’ he won’t wake up. Hyar,

shake, “come out o’ et!” ‘

The man, however, did not open his eyes. His eds
moved limply back and forth under the trapper’s vigorous
hands, but the trance, or whatever it was, still continued.

‘He may be drugged, Nick,” suggested the scout. “I
can’t smell anything like drugs about him, however.
Search him. Perhaps he may have something in his
clothes that will give us a clue.”

Nomad carried out the suggestion Hd From the
breast pocket of the officer’s blouse he removed a small

canvas sack, about the size of a tobacco-bag. The bag

was heavy, and neatly tied at the top. Nomad tossed the

bag to the scout, and the latter untied it and dumped some _

of the contents into the palm of his hand. An exclama-
tion of wonder escaped both the scout and the trapper.
Half a dozen gold nuggets lay in Buffalo Bill’s palm.

“Waal, I’m er Piegan ef er ain't gittin’ wuss an’ wuss!”

     

    

Then I finished the job with my ae
  

  

   
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
    
    
     
   
  
    
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
   
   
 
   
  
    
    
   
 
   
   
 
    
   
  

grow led Nomad.

“Ther Injun was keerful ter oC ther
but he left in ther orficer’s
Say, ain't

hoss an’ ther hoss-fixin’s,
clothes gold enough ter buy a dozen bronks.
this ther limit?’

Buffalo Bill turned the nuggets back into the bag, ues

it up again, and dropped it into his pocket.

’

“See what else you can find, Nick,” said he.
After a little search, the old man drew out a small,
beaded buckskin pouch from the breast of the blouse.

“Thet’s every last thing ther sojer hes got on him,

Buffler,’ declared Nomad. ‘Just thet sack er nuggets
an’ this hyar Injun medicine-bag. Aside from them,
ther ain’t nothin’ in his pockets, not even er pocket-knife,
er a match-case, er so much as a toothpick.
brain-twister, tlrough ?”

‘Certainly it was a brain-twister. Nomad threw the
medicine-pouch to the scout. [It was light and did not
seem to have anything in it. On shaking the pouch, how-
ever, two small objects dropped out of it—they were
brown, flat, and three-cornered.

“Meseal buttons!’ exclaimed Buffalo Bill.

“No cumtusx,” returned Old Nomad.

“They re pods fr om. the mescal plant, Nick,
Buffalo Bill.

“Mescal!
eh, Buffler ¢”

og, +9 f

“Then I reckon that’s a aint in each one o’ them
buttons. Waugh! Toss ‘em inter ther bushes, Buffler.
‘Il ain’t got no use fer things thet play hob with a feller’s
intelleck.”

“We'll not throw the buttons away, Nick,”
the scout. “They're not our property, anyhow...
take care of them, and of the gold, for the officer.”

The scout returned the buttons to the medicine-bag,
which he stowed away in his coat.

“This man belongs at Fort Cummings,’ he went on;
“I don’t think there is any doubt of that. If we take him
there, perhaps we will be able to find out something about
the mystery.’

“Easy as fallin’ ofn er dog, Bafler!” exclaimed the
trapper. “Well load ther, feller onter his hoss, an’ start
fer whar we're goin’,

“It’s about time, Nick, We've delayed our journey
long enough.”

The officer’s hotse was led to the tree, and between
them the scout and the trapper managed to lift the un-
conscious man into the saddle. His feet were placed in

+9

explained

That’s er drink with heaps 0’ fight in et,

answered

We'll

‘the stirrups, but of course he would instantly have fallen

to the ground again unless tied.

While Buffalo Bill held him in his seat, Nomad went
to the tree for the pieces of rope. With these the officer
was made fast to the saddle. His head and shoulders
lopped over the pommel, and his arms swung limply
about the horse’s neck. The scout picked up the cap
and placed it on its owner’s head, then took the riata
from the dead catamount, coiled it, and placed it on his
own saddle.

Nomad, securing his own rope to the bits of the offi

cer’s horse, towed the animal at the end of.a ten-foot
leash.

“We got er hard nut ter crack, Buffler,” remarked the
old man, with a foreboding shake of the head, as he
climbed into his saddle.

33

oe

THE BUFFALO BILL ‘STORIES.

 

Aint et a=

io UES (a rope- an'- -catermount |
. puzzle; an’ ef ther orficer don't come to, an’ ef we kain’t

é

aire up in ther air
Buffalo Bill was thoughful.
the way through the brushy exit of the arroyo and out

upon the level plain, pointing his horse in the direction of

Silver City and the post.

 

| CHAPTER TIL

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS,

fe
\

The two pards, in an attempt:to make up for lost time, -

spurred as rapidly as they could, hampered as they were
by a led horse and an unconscious man in the saddle.

From time to time they looked back, not only to make - S

sure that the limp, helpless figure was all right, but to

gee if they could detect any signs of returning conscious-

nes.

and did not shift its position ;

The sprawled-out form had been securely roped,

The scout and the trapper had left the Rio Gila to the
north of Silver City. Fort Cummings lay to the eastward
of the town. ‘The trail between the post and Silver City
was well-traveled, and they turned into it and followed it
through the hills.

“This hyar thine’s botherin’ me er heap, Buffler,”

muttered Nomad, jerking his shaggy head backward in
the direction of the led horse. “Ef we kain’t pick up er
pinter thet’ll help us unravel ther puzzle, | want ter git
busy with thet Chief Anza attat
ter fergit ther rope-an’-catermount bizness.”

“That Chief Anza matter is something tangible, Nick, ye
returned the scout, with aroused interest. “The despatch [
am carrying to c olonel Costigan has to de with Chief
Anza.”

Anza was an Apache renegade.
twenty to fifty desperate followers,
sparsely settled regions of southern Arizona, New Mexi-
co, and northern Mexico. Sometimes he was in one place,

With anywhere from

sometimes in another, always insolently defying the au- .

thorities, and running off horses and cattle and commit-
ting other depredations.

For a long time he had defied the military powers of
the two republics.
in the United States, he Cece He border into Mexico;
then, when the greasers were running him too close, he
skulked back into the States again.

The United States military. authorities had felt that
Anza had play ed tag with them long enough, and orders
had gone out from the department that he was to be cap-
tured at any cost, and his band dispersed.

Every military post in the Southwest had been warned
to be on the lookout for the wily chief, and to put forth
every effort to take him, The capture of Anza would be
equivalent to breaking up his band; for it was pretty

well understood that without him the red lawbreakers | t

would lose heart and drift back to their reservation.

“We've pledged to help the government lay Chief Anza
by the heels, Nick,’? said the scout, “no matter how this
rope-and-catamount puzzle, as you call it, turns out.
When we reach Cummings we will be under the com-
mand of Colonel Costigan, and I haven’t any doubt but
that he will start us on Chief Anza’s trail at once.’

“Pizen clever, Anza is,’”’ muttered Nomad. “He's had
ther hull United States ‘Army guessin’ for two months,
say nothin’ er them greaser rurales on t’other side ther

4

cit er clue at. Cummings, I reckon We, Us, an’ Comp’ ny ,

   

He did not reply, but ied

  

     
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
 
    
  

 

nor did it, sO‘ lar asthe:
two pards could make out, revive with the light of reason, »

Thet ll sorter Hetp, me.

he harried the

When things got too hot for Anza

 

 

 

 

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- suddenly and strangely.

border. Waugh ! I reckon, Buffler, he’ll give us er run
fer our auburn chip. But er straightaway Injun trail is ©

somethin’ I kin see an’, tinderstand. Thar’s a heap o’
satersfaction in tacklin’ somethin’ thet’s clear ter yer
mind. Et ain’t nothin’ like buttin’ yer head inter a rope-
an’-catermount wall, an’ diskiverin’ things thet keeps
makin’ ther outlook darker an’ darker for ye all ther
time.”

At that time, neither Nomad nor Buffalo Bill even
dreamed that the ‘“‘rope-and-cattamount’ puzzle was to
point them along the trail of the renegade Chief Anza.
Yet so it was to turn out. “Cody-luck,” as Nomad called

~~ it, had met the two pards on the last lap of their journey

from Fort Thomas to Fort Cummings; and while the
outlook regarding the unconscious officer was dark, and
was to grow still darker, yet the atmosphere was to clear
For possibly a quarter of an hour the two pards con-
versed on the subject of Chief Anza, becoming so in-

. terested in the powwow that they gave little attention to
the led horse, or the officer.

From the feel of the lead-rope Old Nomad knew the
horse was following, and that was about all he expected,
under the circumstances. Jf the weirdly unconscious
lieutenant recovered his wits, there was no doubt in the
mind of the trapper or the scout but that he would make

the “fact known.

Nomad, at last, turned a look backward. Then he
drew rein and gave a yell.
“Sufferin’ sarpints! Look back thar, Buffler, look!’
The scout had already turned in his saddle, surprised
at Nomad’s manner and the way he had halted his mount.
The led horse was still following at the end of the
trapper’s piece of rope—but the saddle was empty.
Buffalo Bill and Nomad exchanged bewildered looks.
 *VIl be durn, 1 will so!’ was all the trapper could say.

Then he pulled in on the rope and drew the led horse |

up between his mount and Buffalo Bill’s, The ropes that
had bound the lieutenant to his seat were still at the sad-
die, but they had been untied. The officer had escaped.

- “He must hev done et himself, Buffler,” said Nomad.
“He couldn’t hev had help.”

“If any one had come out from the trail-side and
helped him we should have known it,” returned the scout
quietly. - ae

. Kereet! An’ how ther blazes could a man thet was
in er trance hey untied thar knots, slipped ter ther ground
without us-a-knowin’ an’ vamosed ? Whyever did he want
ter do et, anyways?” |

“The officer must have been playing off.on us, Nick.

_ He pretended to be unconscious, and simply watched his

chance to make a getaway.”

“Thar’s gratitood fer ye! He could pull off er trick like
thet arter ther way ye saved him from thet pesky cater-

mount! Barrin’ Pickett, thet paymaster we met up with,
er while back, I reckon thet leftenant is ther wust excuse

fer a man thet ever put on one er Uncle Sam’s uniforms.

- ‘Cordin’ ter ther way we figger et, from what evidence

we got, the orficer let an Injun rope him ter a tree an’

ride off with his hoss; an’ now hyar he goes, without
ever lettin’ out a whisper, when we’re totin’ him ter

‘safety. A feller like thet ortn’t never ter hev no friends.”
“You're overlooking one important point, Nick,” said

_ the scout gravely.
| Whats thetr’ x
_. “The lieutenant may have been out of his head.”

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES,

“password at any post.

“He must er been!” ,
“In that event, we must make an attempt to find him,
Fle couldn’t have got away very many minutes ago—
certainly not until the subject of Chief Anza was brought

up. We have been interested in'that for fifteen minutes

or less, and did not give much attention to the led horse.’
I'm plum disgusted, an’ thet’s a fact, Buffer. So fur
as I’m pussonly concerned, I’d as lieve ride right on ter

‘ther post an’ never turn a hand ter look fer ther feller.

But ef ye got er idee he was locoed, I reckon we might as
well bushwhack er leetle an’ try ter find him.”

They rode back slowly, scanning the trdil as they went.
They found the place where the lieutenant had got down
from the horse, for the prints of his shoes were unmis-
takable in the dust. The lieutenant had crossed to the
side of the road. Here the ground was rocky and sterile,
and an elephant could have lumbered over it without
leaving a mark. :

“I reckon we'll have to give up, Nick,” said Buffalo
Bill regretfully. “For a man in a trance the lieutenant
was tremendously clever. Unless the thing had actually
happened, I wouldn’t have believed that he could have
untied himself from the saddle, got down from the horse,
and flitted away from the trail without the sound of a
move to let us know what we was up to.’

“Thet’s what he done, Buffler, ef we’re ter believe what
we see, an’ take any stock in our own reasonin’. But
I’m purty nigh ready ter think we been teched by ther
sun.. Mebby we was dreamin’ when we run acrost them
trails on ther flat; an’, by ther same token, like es not

yore killin’ ther catermount, an’ us pilin’ ther orficer onter

his hoss an’ hikin’ erway with him was on’y a nightmare.”

Buffalo Bill dismissed his disquieted thoughts with a
laugh at his pard’s vagary. :

“No dream about it, Nick. There’s the officer’s horse;
and here in my pockets are the bag of gold and the medi-
cine-pouch. They’re real and tangible, anyhow.’

“I reckon you're right, Buffer. But ter look back on
thet rope-an’-catermount bizness et all seems like er

‘dream. Ther leftenant didn’t think'a heap 0’ his gold er

his mescal buttons ter slant erway an’ leave ’em like he
done. Shall we ride ter ther post now ?” Be

“Yes, and report to Colonel Costigan. If he knows
more about the lieutenant than we do, he can send sol-
diers to comb these hills and get some track of the missing
man. We have doneall wecan.” | -

The sunset gun had long since boomed from the fort,
and Old Glory had fluttered down from its high staff on
the parade-ground into the arms of the officer waiting —
to receive it, when the two pards were stopped by the
sentry at the post-gate. 2

“Who comes there? | ie .

“Buffalo Bill and Nick Nomad, with important de-

patches for the post commandant!’

The honored name of the great scout was sufficient
The sentry, an excited light
gleaming in his eyes, drew up and saluted.

“Pass on, Buffalo Bill and Nick Nomad; an’ three
times three for the pair of you!”

“Where will we find the colonel?” asked the scout.

“T guess he’s about through with his evenin’ chuck, an’
more’n likely, just about now, he’s regalin’ himself with
a Havana on his porch in officers’ row. Turn to the
right, Buffalo Bill, when you’re through the gate.”

The two pards rode into the parade-ground, flanked

| to left and right with barracks and the houses of officers’

  

3 P ; ; We
oo ‘THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

row. At the foot of the open square were the stables,
and at the top the offices and post headquarters.

Oil-lamps twinkled like fireflies all around the plaza, |

and the scout and his trapper pard pushed toward the
house at the head of officers’ row.

for a general war on the whites. If the latter supnesa
is true, then the red villain should be captured before he,
has a chance to put his*plans into effect. 1 would sug-
gest that you put Cody on Anza’s trail, You will re-
member the gallant and successful way in which he
landed on Lightning-that-Strikes a short time before
Custer bit the “dust on the Little Bighorn. Cody could

- repeat that operation, I think, in the case of Anza, with

CHAPTER FV.
CONCERNING THE DESPATCHES.

- Colonel Costigan was really on the porch, and the sen-
try had it right when he spoke of the Havana. The
colonel was. smoking and thinking when two horsemen
rode up with a led horse. One of the dusty pilgrims
handed his reins to the other, dismounted and came to-
ward the house.

“Colonel Costigan?” called the man.

“The same,” answered the colonel, rising.

The man came up the steps, stood before the colonel,
and saluted.

“Buffalo Bill, colonel, just from Fort Thomas with
important despatches from Colonel Edgerton.”

“By gad, Cody, is that your” And, with that, Colonel
Costigan’ got swiftly to his feet and held out his hand,
‘Neleome to the post, Buffalo Bill.
there with your’

“My pard, Nick Nomad.”

“Orderly ! '’ called the colonel.”

_ “Here, sir!” came a voice from behind, as the oy,
appeared.

ve “Take away those horses and. have them cared for.
Call in Nomad, Cody.

Vl have the Chinaman set up
some supper for you. Just finished eating, but if I had

had any idea you were coming I would have waited.

Vl sit in with you, anyhow, just for company’s sake.
My wife and family have gone East, and I’m keeping
bachelor’s hall; but you and Nomad. are to stop with
me, understand, while you’re at fhe post.”
: Thus hospitably did Colonel Costigai receive his cal-
‘lers. Half an hour later the scout and the trapper had
removed the travel stains, and were sitting opposite each
other at the colonel’s table, a light-footed Chinaman
hovering about them and filling their plates. .

It was probably the most elaborate camp Old Nomad
had ever pitched, and he was a little uncomfortable.
there been any ladies at the colonel’s wickiup, Nomad no
doubt would have slid across the parade-ground to the
_ junior officers’ mess.

The colonel, at one side of the table, was reading the -

despatches Buffalo Bill had brought him..

“That old red rascal, Chief Anza, is heading this way,

remarked the colonel. “Look at that, Cody,” and Cos-
tigan laid a sheet of paper in front of Buffalo Bill’s
plate.

“Colonel Costigan, Commandant,
Fort Cummings, N. M.

“My Drar Coronet: My Indian scouts report that

Anza, with twenty or thirty bucks, is working east. What

the old scoundrel is up to is a conundrum. Some of the

scouts think he’is going to run off cattle from the Texas

Panhandle, and others that he is going to work an old

%

Apache gold placer, somewhere in your balliwick,and get

the wherewith to buy new-model repeating rifles and am-
munition, so that he can stir up the whole Apache nation

Who's that out

Had:

colonel,” said he.

-warming up.

ground to spare. Yours: faithfully, ~ EpcErton.”

Buffalo Bill read this despatch aloud for the benefit of
Old Nomad.

“Waugh!” exclaimed the trapper, highly Sieeced Tier
Buffler is told ter tote Anza in, et’s a cinch he'll do et.
So ther ole renergade hes got er gold-mine, hey?’ And
the trappers mind reverted to the bag of nuggets the
scout had in his pocket, wondering lly the matter of
the yellow-haired lieutenant had not been mentioned.

Buffalo Bill was just getting around to that.

“Colonel,” said ne? ‘are you short one lieutenant, about
thirty years old, well- built, good to look upon, and
having curly yellow hair?” ~ co.

‘The colonel jumped in his seat.

“McCune!” he muttered. “He’s away on duty, now;
left here with Two Sticks, one of our best Indian scouts.”’

There was a queer look on the colonel’s face, and his
eyes sought the scout’s interrogatively.

Buffalo Bill told about picking up the two horse-trails
on the flat, of his discoveries in the arroyo, and of the
lieutenant’s strange drapes from the back of the
led horse.

Costigan listened. with breathless interest.

“By gad!” he exclaimed, when the scout was done.
aa didn't think anything good would come of that rash
enterprise. of McCune’s. “But the lieutenant is a dare-
devil, and ready for anything. It was a long time be-
fore I would give my consent to the foolishness, and I
am-sorry now ‘that I did. give it.%

Stepping to the door he. gave an order to’ the military
attendant. A detachment “of troopers was to start at
once, and search the country between Cummings and Sil-

ver City. -

“You can be sure of one thing, Cody,” went-on the.
colonel, returning to the table and resuming his chair
with a troubled face, “McCune is one of the finest fellows
in the service, and if he shammed unconsciotisness in
order to give you the slip, he was surely out of his head.”

Buffalo Bill, took out of his pockets the sack of gold and
the medicine-bag, reaching over to lay them on the table
in front of the colonel.

“That was all we could find in McCunes pockets,
“Two Sticks, I suppose, had stripped
him of everything else when he tied him to the tree.
Nomad found McCune’s horse, with carbine and revol-
vers in place at the saddle. ‘We led the horse i in 1G he
was taken to the stables with our mounts.”

The colonel picked up the beaded pouch.

“This used to be Anza’s medicine-bag,”’

“Snarlin’ painters !’? murmured Nomad.

The old trapper was intensely interested. The trail to-
ward a solution of the “rope-and-catamount” puzzle was

said he.

“That medicine-bag,’ went on the colonel, ““was
brought in here several weeks ago by an Apache who

‘claimed to have belonged to Anza’s gang, and to have ©

broken away from the party. When the interpreter told’
us what the Apache had to say about the medicine-bag

 
  

he

wm

ee er NAA Ne ADD

 

 

 

 

 

  
 
 

of the buttons.”
_ gether on the white cloth and leaned back in his chair.

the fact that the buttons are the real goods.
man of ordinary intelligence, however, I hate to admit

THE BUFFALO

. and its contents, I strongly suspected a trick of some
‘kind. But, even at that, the Apache’s fairy-tale made

me laugh. Let’s see if the bag contains anything.”

'. The colonel turned the beaded pouch upside down and

shook it. The two little brown pods rolled out on the

table-cloth. os ae
“Ah! murmured Costigan, eyeing the pods with a

mixed expression of awe and incredulity, “here are two

He pushed the two flat little pods to-

“The question is, Cody,” he remarked, with a quizzical
look at his guest, “is there anything diabolical about
those mescal buttons, or did that renegade Apache make

up the fairy-story out of his own mind? The experience

of McCune, as you give it to me, would seem to point to
Being a

it,”
“What was the renegade Apache’s story, colonel?”
queried the scout curiously.

“He said the pods were ‘big medicine,’ ”’ proceeded

| Costigan. “They were gathered at a gold-mine of which

no Indian knows the whereabouts except Anza; and even

Anza himself can not reach the mine unless he eats one

of the pods.and gets under its influence.” The colonel
laughed. ‘‘What do you think of that, Cody?”

“They're a heap different from the ordinary run of
mescal buttons, colonel,’ smiled the scout, ‘if they have
the powers the Apache credits them with.”

“They are different,’ said the colonel. “Quetzal, the
head shaman at the pueblo of Taos, has stewed those pods
in a magic mixture, in a magic kettle, and has danced
around them the magic dance of the Navajos. All of
which, of course, is the veriest rot. I don’t believe

Quetzal, although a mighty good shaman, put any dia-

bolical powers into those buttons. Anza hired Quetzal
to do his incantations over a peck of the pods, and wher-
ever Anza goes he carries the pods with him, guarding
them as though they were diamonds. There were four
buttons in the medicine-bag when the Apache brought it
in, and the Apache’s yarn, naturally, was a topic of con-
versation all around the post. About half the men in the
barracks swallowed the story, and one or two of the offi-
cers, who ought to have known better, took some stock
in it. McCune is an Irishman, and he believes in ban-
shees, so maybe it was natural for him to see something

out of the ordinary in the mescal buttons.

“The other officers laughed at him, and joshed him,
and finally he offered to eat one of the buttons just to

prove whether the renegade Apache was right or wrong.
In order to get one of the buttons, McCune had to come
- to me, for I had possession of the whole lot.

I refused
to countenance such foolishness, as might be expected. I
told McCune that the whole thing might be a trick of the
cunning Anza, and that probably he had poisoned the
pods and sent the renegade in with them in the hope that
pains. |

“But the lieutenant continued to pester me. He was
willing to take his chances, he said, and if he could find
where Anza got his gold, then the soldiers could lay for
him at the place and capture him when he came after the

~some fool here would eat them and get laid out for his

yellow metal. As I have already said, the Apache’s story.
was too fishy for me, and I couldn’t see any sort of use.

in McCune feeding on the pods and running the risk

-of turning up his toes.

 

MLE STORIES, oe

“Finally McCune came and said that Two Sticks would
eat one of the buttons, too, and go with him wherever
the pods might take him. I was getting sick of the whole
affair, by that time, and had half a notion to tell our
Chinaman to take the brown buttons and put them in the
kitchen fire. But I didn’t, I had a talk with Selfridge,
the post doctor, and he examined the pods and pro-
nounced them harmless, as far as he could make out. He

advised me to give them to McCune and Two Sticks and

let them try them out. Selfridge promised, also, to be —
around with a stomach-pump and antidotes and to take
hold of Two Sticks and McCune in case the buttons
promised to bring any bad results:

“That caught my consent, and I turned the bag and the
buttons over to the lieutenant. But I didn’t feel tight
about it, nevertheless. The officers gave a little dinner
on the night the lieutenant and the Indian were to eat
the buttons. McCune and the scout had the buttons for
dessert. They ate them at the same identical moment,
and two minutes later they rushed from the mess-room,
got their horses from the stables, and sped off into the
night. I gave orders that they should be followed, but

. the men who tried to follow lost the trail.

“This happened last night, Cody,” the colonel finished,
“and the first news I have had of McCune is the news
you have just brought me. From all I can gather, these
pods put the lieutenant and the Indian out of their wits,
and the Indian tied:up the lieutenant in that arroyo. If
you hadn’t happened along there would have been a ~
tragedy, and the incident of the pods wouldn’t have been
so funny. As it is, McCune is wandering through the
hills somewhere, in a deranged condition, and | shall
count myself fortunate if we get him back and bring him
around to his normal condition again.”

The renegade Apache’s story, as told by the colonel,
was hard enough to swallow, in all truth: bat——

Well, Buffalo Bill and Nomad had for some time been
exchanging wondering glances.

“Kunnel,” said the old trapper gravely, “as I ketch
ther drift 0’ this hyar peculiar bizness, ther leftenant et
one o’ them pods, hopin’ as how it ‘wd lead him ter a.
gold-mine thet on’y Anza knows erbout. Is thet it?”

“thats the Apache's story for it, Nomad” 7. 12

“Then ‘I wisht ye’d open thet thar other bag which
Buffler an’ me took from ther leftenant’s pocket, erlong
with the medicine-pouch.”

The colonel gave a startled look into Nomad’s sober
countenance; then he untied the little canvas sack and
dumped the nuggets out on the table. ,

“Gold!” he exclaimed. “Where did McCune get it?”

“Whar but at Anza’s mine?” queried Nomad. “He
got ter ther mine, all right, whether er no them buttons.
had anythin’ ter do with et; an’ he washed out thet hand-
ful o’ nuggets an’ was on his way back ter ther post when.
he an’ Two Sticks had ther fallin’-out. Wough! Mebby
thar’s more ter them pods than what ye think,”

The old man’s eyes glimmered awesomely as they wan- -
dered from the shimmering heap of nuggets to the two
brown pods. Costigan turned appealingly to Buffalo
Bill.

“You, Cody,” he remarked, “have too much sense to

 

think that two insignificant mescal buttons, like those
eaten by the lieutenant and the Indian, could have any >

such incredible effeenr a. :
The scout nodded.

“It’s more likely, colonel,” said he, “that McCune got _

  
 

ef THE BUFFALO

that gold somewhere and is playing a little. game to get
the laugh on the a who doubt the Apache’ s story.”

“BY “ead, Cody, I guess that’s it!’ A relieved look
crossed Costigan’s oo “Still,’ and he became doubt-
ful again, “it isn’t like McCune to play fast and loose
with you and Nomad, as he did, if he was in his sober
senses. ff there was: anything to. the ,button-story,

though, it would be a good stroke for some one to eat .

one of them-and lead a party to this gold-mine of Anza’s.
Anza goes to the place alone, and, from what Edgerton
says in that letter, may be headed for the place now. If
the old red scoundrel could be nabbed at the gold-mine,
and brought in——".
He halted, with a troubled laugh.

“But I’m wandering,” he pipered: “Here, Sing,” he

called to the Chinese servant, “take these and put them

in the stove.”

He took up the two ae in one hand and held them
toward the Chinaman. Quick as a flash, Old Nomad
reached out and took the pods himself.

“Begoin’ yer parding, kunnel,” said Nomad, “but. I
druther hev these hyar things myself, ef ye ain't got no
objection. ‘Mebbyso I’m er ijut, an’ plum locoed, but Vil
Sa er. blue stack that’s more ter these hyar pods
than what you an Buffler thinks.”

The scout tipped the colonel a wink.

“Nomad has*a streak of superstitition running through
him, colonel,” laughed Buffalo Bill. “He believes in evil
spirits called the ‘whiskizoos,’ and a whole lot of other
things altogether too deep for me. He'll take good care
of the buttons. If he tries to cat them, 1 i “take him
down and sit on him. No pard of mine is going to go
tearing out into the hills and treat me as McCune “aid?

“ATT right, Nomad,” smiled the colonel;
buttons, but keep them as curiosities. For Heaven's sake,
don’t try to eat one of them.”

Nomad wagged his head mysteriously, and there was
a light in his eyes which Buffalo Bill would have dis-
trusted, could he have seen it.

At that moment the orderly appeared in the door.

“Lieutenant McCune’s compliments to Colonel Costi-
ean,” said he; “and could the lieutenant see him a few
moments ?”’

Everybody sat up at that.

“Did the boys I sent out find McCune?” queried the
colonel.

‘No, sir: he just came in by himself.”

“By gad,” mused Costigan, ‘“wouldn’t this knock you all
of a heap? Have the lieutenant come right in,” he added
to the orderly.

An instant later, Lieutenant McCune, dusty and oe
“worn, appeared in the doorway. Standing erect, he
clicked his heels, and saluted.

“T have the honor to report, colonel” he_ began,
and paused.

“To report what, McCune?” asked Costigan.

“To report that 1 leit here on horseback, with Two
Sticks, and that now I have come back alone, and on foot.
What happened to me while I was away from the post
is a total blank !”’

 

ChE i Vv.
FACT Lor ILLUSION.

The colonel looked tyice-at the lieutenant, to make sure
that he was in earnest. McCune’s face was haggard,

ff

“you keep the ke

BILL STORIES. |

‘and his oo gave abundant evidence of hard usage.
‘He must have had a strenuous time during the proceed-

ine twenty-four hours.
“Do you mean to’tell me, McCune,

99

said. the colonel!

“that you have absolutely no recollection of anything that ”

happened to you from the time you broke away from the
dinner-party, last night, until now ?”
aa remember, sir,’ answered McCune, in a dry, hol-
low tone, “of rushing for the stables with Two Sticks,.
impelled by an uncontrollable desire to get into the sad-
dle. But even that remembrance 1s ioe I can recall
nothing after Two Sticks and Tr dashed out of the ue
gate. ‘Was that last night, sir?’
“Can’t you remember that, either?
“ “T know it was night when we ee Cummings, but

: merece it was last night, or night before last, or a week,

ot a month ago, I haven't the slightest idea.

Costigan swept his curious eyes over the faces of: te
scout and Nomad. The scout’s face showed deep interest,
while Nomad’s reflected an awe that was profound. -

“Tt was last night, McCune,” said the colonel quietly.
“You have been “absent from the post for twenty- -four
hours.”

“And my wits were wool- gatheri ing all the time, sir. I
must have been abroad and doing something, although I
can’t tell what it was. When I realized where I was, “a
few moments ago, I was being hailed by one of the sen-
tries. 1 awoke as from a bad dream. Have I ridden my

horse to death? And Two Sticks—have I killed him and

left him somewhere in the hills?”
“Not so bad as that, McCune,”
encouragingly. “Don’t let your mind run in such grue-
some channels, for, happily, I am able to acquaint you
with some of the things you have done. Shake hands
with Mr. Cody, McCune, and with his pard, Nick Nomad.
‘Then sit down, and I'll have Sing bring you some food.
Gad’—and the colonel laughed softly —“you look as
though you needed it.” -
The lieutenant shook hands with Buffalo Bill and No-

mad just as though he had never met them before, and

then took the oe to which the colonel motioned ee

“T think you ought to feel particularly well disposed to-
ward Cody,” went on Costigan, “for he saved your life
this afternoon, McCune. o

“How's that, sir?” asked McCune, pausing, as he was
about to attack the food the Chinaman had set before him.

The colonel explained how the scout and the trapper
had followed the horse-trails, and how the scout had en-
tered the arroyo and shot the catamount.

“T am under obligations to you, Buffalo Bill,” said Mc-
Cune, ‘fand I hope you will take my word for it that this
is all news to me.’

Buffalo Bill then told the lieutenant how he had got
away from him and Nomad between Silver City and
the post.

“More news,’ Cae the lieutenant. “Strange what
a man will do when he is under the power of those in-
fernal buttons! But’—and here the officer’s” face lighted

~up—‘l guess I have proved there was something i in that

Apache’s story, after all.”

You have proved something, McCune,” said the coe

nel, “although I don’t know just what. Buffalo Bill found
this gold in your pocket.”

“Tn my pocket!’ gasped } MeCune.

Hes

oor He I must have visited Noga mine. It must be a

 

 

spoke up the eT

 

 

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don’
re .

Co

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ate

he

iL

co).

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all
5t-

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THE BUFFALO

tremendously rich mine if I could take that gold out of
it in such a short time, without pick or shovel, horn-
spoon or gold-pan to work with!” ae
“Bosh!” scoffed the colonel. ‘Do you still believe that
there is any power in those insignificant pods, McCune?’
_“Haven’t I more reason than ever, sir, to believe that
there is something in them? Two. Sticks and I ate two.

of the buttons and started out to find a gold-mine. I
- don’t know what happened, but Buffalo Bill here found

me, saved my life, and took a bag of nuggets out of my
pocket. Isn’t that pretty good proof that I discovered
Ammer” ae ;

“You found some gold, but whether it came fron.
Anza’s mine or not, who knows? And, if it comes to

that, who knows whether or not Anza has a mine? All

poppycock !’’ ae 5
“Anyhow,” said McCune, “I\wish some one had fol-
lowed us. If the mine could have been located, there
would be a chance to catch Anza when he comies’ to it.
I suppose,” he added, with his eye on the medicine-bag,
“that was taken from me, too, when Buffalo Bill found
the gold?” oe
oe “Ves,” z
“Any pods left in it, sir?”
“Two; but they’re not for you, McCune. I’ve given
them to Nomad, and he’s going to keep them as curiosi-
tess, a
“Unless there’s some deviltry in those pods, colonel,”
said McCune helplessly, ‘I don’t know how to explain
what happened.”
“Your finding the gold was a coincidence, that’s all
there is to that.” :
“But why did Two Sticks tie me up in that ravine?”
_ “He’s an Indian, and he wanted to steal your horse.”
“But he didn’t steal it——”
“Something went wrong with his plans.”

“Why didn’t he take the gold if he wanted to turm

thief ?”
“Give it up; he must have overlooked it. I guess he
took about everything else you had about you.” :

“7 had a watch, and some other things; but the gold
was worth more than everything else, all put together.
Then, too, colonel, you forget that Two Sticks was in
the same condition I was.”

“Oh, bother !”-said the colonel irritably.
tired of this whole mescal button affair.

“T’m sick and
Lets forget it.

“Two Sticks has made himself scarce with your watch.and

your personal property. He'll never be heard of again.

Good riddance to bad rubbish, say [. If you’re through,

McCune, let’s all go out on the veranda and smoke.”
Just then the orderly, appeared again.
“Two Sticks is at the door, colonel.

He just rode in,
and wants to see you.’ :

- Costigan gasped and looked worried. Something like ©

a smile crept over McCune’s haggard face.
_ “Was the rascal nabbed and brought in by that detach-
ment I sent out to look for McCune?” queried the colonel.
“No, sit, the detachment hasn’t got back yet. Two
Sticks came in by himself"
“Well,” sighted the colonel, “I suppose we'll have to

thresh over some more of this affair about those con-
founded buttons. Let hiin come in.”

A moment later, a tall Apache in muddy leggings and

moccasins showed himself. He wore a dazed and bewil-

dered look, but a gleam of satisfaction shot through his

eyes on beholding McCune.

 

umph

Bet STORIES. 2.7. 9
“Where did you come from, Two Sticks?’ demanded
Costigan. 2 | l:
“No. sabe.” ~
“What have you been doing ?”
“No sabe. Mescal button him heap bad medicine.”
Two Sticks ‘strode to the table and laid on it, in front
of McCune, a gold watch, a cigarette-case, a match-case,
and a pocketbook.
“No sabe how me git um.

fe? j

Me got um all same,

‘Two Sticks turned to leave. McCune grabbed him.

“No, you don’t, Two Sticks!” cried the lieutenant. “I
want to find out if you know anything more about this
than I do.”

 

CHAPTER Vi.
NOMAD TAKES THE BIT’ IN HIS TEETH.

Two.Sticks had not the reliable look of \Wolf Voice,
another Apache scout with whom Buffalo Pill and Nomad
had fallen in at Fort Thomas. Nevertheless, Two Sticks
would average up pretty weil, in appearance, with the
usual Indian whom the white soldiers hire, for thirteen
dollars a month, to help make war on his own people.

“Have you any idea where we went, Two Sticks?” de-
manded McCune. — |

The red man shook his head and looked wild.

“Do you know you tied me up in an arroyo and made
off with my horse, and that other stuff on the table?”

“Wow!” grunted Two Sticks, with a look of horror.
“No got um white pony-soldier’s cayuse now.”

“The horse is here at the post, in the stables, and
you've’ returned the other property, so that’s all right.
But what 1 want to know, Two Sticks, is whether you can
remember anything that happened?’

“No sabe not’ing.”’

‘Nomad pulled the two buttons from his pocket and
juggled them thoughtfully in his fingers. Two Sticks
catight sight of the pods and gave a yell. |

“Heap devil!” he cried, and flung up his arms and
rushed from the house.

A moment later the wild patter of his pony’s hoofs
could be heard making in the direction of the stables.

The colonel laughed, and so did Buffalo Bill. McCune
appeared dazed with astonishment, and Nomad softly re-
turned the mescal buttons to his pocket.

When they rose from the table, McCune bade them
good night and went to his quarters. The colonel, the
scout, and the trapper sat on the porch for an hour and
smoked. The colonel and the scout talked about supersti-
tion, and the hold it had on the red man and all savages
in general, and both came to the opinion which every:
well-balanced mind would have taken’ in the circum-

stances: viz., that the strange circumstances which Had

fallen to McCune and Two Sticks came about through
an aberration of mind induced through some drug in
which the mescal buttons had been steeped. The finding:
of the gold in McCune’s packet was a certainty that could
not be dodged—but it must have got there through some
coincidence. It might have been found where it had been
dropped by some prospector ; or the lieutenant might have
gambled for it, in some out-of-the-way camp, and, won it _
——all unconscious of what he was doing.
Qld Nomad took no part in the talk. His head wa
buzzing with the pros and cons of the mystery,

 
 

10.

 

That night the scout and the teen a in ue same
room and under the same blankets.

“T’d feel'a heap more comfert’ble ef is was out. on ther
parade-ground with my saddle under my head, Buffler,’”
remarked the trapper, showing an inclination to carry
the scheme into effect... ©

“You're going to stay right here with me, old pard, o
said the scout firmly.

“Shore, Buffler, ef thet’s ther way ye feel erbout et.”

According to custom, Nomad put his six-shooters un-

_ der his pillow; and along with the six-shooters he stowed |

the two mescal buttons.

“What are-you doing that for, Nick?” asked the scout.
_ “Some ’un might try. ter steal ’em, Buffler.”’

“Take my advice, Nick, and throw those buttons
away.”

“Buffler,’ said the old man seriously, “IT wouldn't take
a thousand apiece fer them thar pods,”

“Nonsense !’’

_ that’s more ter ees things than what ther kunnel
an’ you aire willin’ ter admit, Buffler, ” asserted Nomad.

“You don’t mean to say that you take any stock in the
yarn of that renegade Apache ?’

“T shore kain’t misdoubt what I hears an’ sees, Buf-
ters

Once or twice Nomad Pe in the night and aroused
his bunky. Each time, the scout saw the old man sitting
up in bed, the moonlight filtering over, him through a
window, looking at the pods, turning them over and over
in his hands, and talking to himself.

The last time Buffalo Bill saw this, he took the pods
away from his pard and put them under his own pillow.
_ “Now, then, Nick,” said he, “you lie down and get
some sleep. You, and 1 and McCune ate going to ride
uto milver City, in the morning, and talk with a halfi-breed

‘there who was captured by Anza once, and taken to the

chief’s hang-out in this section. We'll learn where the

hang-out was, if we can, and then ride to the place on a

prospecting trip. We had a hard day in the saddle, and

, you want to show the colonel that you appreciate a good
bed with a real mattress and sheets. You act like a kid
with a tin whistle over those pods.”

“Ain't goin’ ter keep ’em yerself, be ye, Buffler?’
asked Nomad humbly.

“No, you can have them in the morning; but they
seem to interfere with your rest, and I want you to

snooze good and plenty. Buenos noches, Nick,?
“Buenos noches, Buffler.”’
After that, Nomad snored in a way that shook the
windows. The notes of the bugle called them up, and
they rose and dressed, Nomad putting the buttons in his
pocket as he went down the stairs.
The colonel met them below.
“Everything looks brighter this morning, eh, gentle-
men?’ smiled Costigan, as he ushered his guests into
the dining-room.
“A whole lot, colonel,” laughed the scout. “I have a
feeling that this Silver City half-breed is the cue to. our
work.”
| “T hope so, certainly. Unless Chief Anza is caphared:
_ there'll be the biggest kind of an Apache war. I’m half
inclined to believe the old scoundrel is going to the Pan-
handle country to deal in cattle. There are a lot of
_ people around Fort Stanton who'll buy cattle and not ask

‘any questions as to where they come from. Good field
for a rustler, white or red.” _

» THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. —

_ Breakfast over, the cna the scout, and the dapper
went out on the veranda. | ‘Three. horses, groomed and
equipped with riding-gear, were hitched to posts in front,
- One of the horses belonged to Buffalo Bill, another to
Nomad, and the third to Lieutenant. McCune.

Buffalo Bill’s repeating rifle, and. Nomad’ s, hung from
their saddles. McCune’s carbine ‘was at his saddle-horn,
and army Colts could be seen in the saddle-holsters. _

While they sat on the porch, waiting for McCune to
appear, Nomad grew uneasy. He had acted strangely
to the scout all that morning, and it was very evident he

had something on his mind,

_ Suddenly, the watchful scout saw Nomad’s hand dive
into his pocket, come forth, and pass like lightning to his
lips. The scout grabbed at his pard’s hand, and one of
the mescal buttons was shaken out and dropped on the
porch floor.

“Great Scott!” cried the colonel. “What’ S up, Cody: c

“Nick,” cried Buffalo Bill sternly, ‘ ‘what did you do?”

“Buffler, old pard,” returned Nomad, “jest this hyar
oncet ther ole man had ter take ther bit in his teeth. I
been bothered all night by them thar pesky buttons.
Mebbyso they're pizen, an’ mebbyso et ain’t good fer
me ter eat one, but I done et—jest couldn't fight off ther
desire no longer.”

“Thunder !” cried the colonel frantically. “MeCune i
he called to the lieutenant, who was just approaching the
steps from across the parade-ground, “Nomad has downed
one of those buttons! I was a fool for letting him have

- them!”

Buffalo Bill, exasperated and apprehensive, put his heel
on. the button that had dropped on the porch and ground
it into powder.

Then Old Nomad let off a blovd thirsty yell and made
a break for the steps leading, down from the porch.
Buffalo Bill grabbed at him, barely escaping a blow from
the trapper’s clenched fist, .

“Hands off er me!” whooped | Nomad frenziedly.
“Le’me go! Whoop-ya!”

Endued with supernatural strength, he shook his pard
loose, ran down the steps, hurled McCune out of his path,
and rushed for his horse.

In half a second, Old Nomad was on the animal’s back,
pointing for the post-gate, riding” like the wind, © and
yelling like a demon.

Men came running from all parts of the parade-ground.

Buffalo Bill, however, was chiefly concerned on account °

of the armed sentries. The one at the gate seemed un-
decided whether or not he should use his rifle. .

“Don’t shoot!” cried Buffalo Bill. “Let him go! He’s
mad, McCune,” he shouted to the lieutenant, “mad as a
locoed steer, Weill have to follow him.”

The scout and the lieutenant leaped to their horses,
their spurs rattled, and they shot away on the track of
Nick : omad.

 

CHAPTER VII.
ON A MADMAN” S TRAIL,

Buffalo Bill’s horse and McCune’s were ae eealy

” matched as to speed, so that they tore along side by side.

“How did he come to eat the thing ?” asked: McCune,
staring at the dust-cloud ahead, in the center of which
raced the irrational trapper.

“Tt would take a student of psyehoogy to answer that

   
   

  

 

   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 

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Stone i:

THE BUFFALO

question, McCune,” rennet the scout. “There’s a queer
streak in my old pard. He’s clear gold, all the way
through, but he had»an irresistible desire to down one
of those buttons Anything out of the ordinary always
has an effect on Nomad; and I suppose he wanted to eat
one of those pods.and see for himself what it would do.”
“He'll never know what it does to him, Buffalo Bill,”
said McCune grimly. “He’s out of his head, now. When
he comes to himself, as I, did, everything that happened
to him, and everything he did, will be a blank. Believe
as Pructi as you will about the miraculous powers of those .
buttons, it’s a cinch, nevertheless, that they make a man

‘dotty.’ -He loses all reMlization of who he is, and what

he’s doing.”
__ “He’s heading toward. Silver City,’ remarked Buffalo

Bill, noticing how the os cloud took to the trail be-
tween the hills. !

“Tf he gets into the mining-camp we'll Stand a good
chance of capturing him. But—holy smoke!” ejaculated
the lieutenant ; “can’t you see something on the other side
of that dust—thére where the trail makes a bend?”

_ “Looks like a four-horse wagon,” said the scout.

“It’s the post-freighter, coming up with a-load. If we
can get Nomad between us and the w wagon, we're liable
to halt him between here and Silver City.” w
The trail was narrow at the point where the big wagon

was approaching postward, so narrow that it would be
difficult for a horseman to pass without scaling a steep
bank at the trail-side.

Nomad was evidently considering this unforeseen diffi-
culty. At least he was slowing the mad gait of his
horse. The dust was whipped away by the faint breeze,
and, the horrified pursuers saw that the crazy trapper had
his six-shooters in his hands.

The freighter had drawn to a halt ae was tossing his
arms and shouting.

Crack, crack! came the incisive echoes of the ae a
small arms.

The*freighter dropped under his seat.

“Great Scott!” gasped Buffalo Bill; “if Nick has done
any damage to the freighter, he’ll never get over it when
he comes out of that killing trance!”

“He’d shoot one of us just as quick as, he'd shoot the
freighter, Buffalo Bill,” answered MeC cine; “we've got
to look out for him.”

While Nomad was angling to get past the freight-
wagon, the scout and the lieutenant. drew quite close.
Nomad, observing this, turned and sent a couple of
bullets in their direction, as a gentle reminder that he was
not losing track of anything, :

“See him, now!” cried McCune. “See him!”

- Nomad’s bullets had swept through the air close to the
heads of his pursuers, but had done no hurt. As McCune
called, he pointed over the bobbing head of his horse.

Nomad was walking his mount straight up the almost
perpendicular wall at the side of the trail. He got around
the wagon, but the two men behind could-sce his horse
topple over sidewise and roll into the road.

The freighter, meanwhile, had showed himself.

39

He

was just beginning to realize that Buffalo Bill and Mc- —

Cune were in pursuit. Whipping up his four-horse team,
he haulted the freight-wagon-snug up against the trail-
side, allowing margin enough for the scout and ithe
lieutenant to pass. =

“Who ther nation is thet locoed ijut?” the freighter

TOea imal:

BILL STORIES.

AT

yelled, as ‘Buffalo Bill and McCune dicoped into single
file to get past the wagon.
“He’s all right—don’t shoot at him,” called the scout.

Did he hit you ??—

“T fell off’n the seat too ance to let him. But his in-
tentions was good, by ginger!’

The scout raced past the wagon, hoping that Nomad’s
tumble, while not injuring him severely , would put him

out of the running until he could be captured.

This hope was short-lived. When the scout reached a
point where he could look ahead, Nomad was on_ his
horse again and getting down to his slashing gait.

“It's a wonder,” said McCune, riding alongside Buffalo
Bill, “that Nomad di dn’t break a leg or an arm.”

“He’s as springy as India rubber,” said the scout, “and
as tough as whalebone. Old as he is, Nomad has few
equals in the matter of endurance. I can see now, Mc-
Cune, that this is going to be a long chase.”

“We're handicapped,” responded McCune. “We can’t
do any shooting, and when Nomad shoots we've got to get
out of the way ‘of his bullets. Every one who tries to
stop him, in this race, is a mortal enemy.”

“Then I hope he don’t race into Silver City. He would
be sure to shoot some one there, and some one there
would as surely shoot him.’

“It’s a tough proposition, Buffalo Bill. If we get too.

close we're going to be picked off, and we have got to
get close in order to capture him. ‘What’ s the answer to
that conundrum ?”

“We'll have to ride him down!” declared the scout.

“As for that, his mount appears to be as good, or better,
than ours. Then, if we do ride him down, which I don't
think is possible, there remains the little matter of gun-
play to follow.’.

“We'll have to corner him by a trick of some kind—get
him so he can’t use his weapons. Anyhow, we'll keep
along on his trail and hope for the best. I want to keep
my old pard from doing something he’ll be sorry: for
when in his right mind, fully as much as I want to
capture him,”

“We'll do what we can, Buffalo Bill, as you say, and
hope for the best. You wouldn’t think. that such an in-
significant brown pod would have so much deviltry in it,
would you! pe

“Tt ist the pod, McCune, but the poison that’s been
steeped into it. It must have been boiled in a loco-weed
mixture, | reckonr

“It’s the pod,” asserted McCune, with supreme convic-
tion. “No mere decoction of Joco-weed could do that
Ah!” he added, a moment later, “Nomad is
not goine through Silver City, after all. He’s turning
from the trail.”’
~ This was a fact. JNomad had turned. sharply from the
main road, and Buffalo Bill noted, with surprise, that he
was leav@he the trail at the point where he and the scout ©
had debouched into it, the preceding afternoon, on. their
way to the post.

Such a course would take Nomad around
camp and toward the Rio Gila.

“He seems to be making toward-the place where we
found you, McCune,” observed the scout.

By jovel” exclaimed McCune, his face brightening
with a sudden thought.

“What have you got on your mind?” queried the scout.

“It was a serious thing for road to munch me that
pod and swallow it———

the minine-

 
      
     
     
   
     
    
      
      
     
      
       
      
     
  
  
 
  
  
  
    
    
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
    
  
  
   
    
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
   
 
   

 

 
 
 

~

oe | Vee BUPPALO

“Of course!- It has ned him entirely. and made it
possible for him to do a good many things, unconsciously,
for which he would be.sorry when his wits return.”

“T understand that; but we can make the best of a bad
matter by not trying to capture him, but by following
him. He'll take us directly to Anza’s gold-mine——”

“T don’t admit that, McCune! The notion is a crazy
one—nothing sensible about it.’

“That’s where he'll take us, all the same,” persisted
McCune doggedly. “I know, because a couple of the
buttons took Two Sticks and me there. Ii that’s the way

it turns out, we'll locate the mine; then, in due course,

we can hang out at the place and lay for Chief Anza. It’s
a chance, and a good one, to capture the red desperado.”

Buffalo Bill scoffed at this. Like the colonel, he was

inclined to doubt the statement that Anza had a secret
mine of his own.
tions. Then, too, it was stated that this mine of Anza’s
was so well hidden that even Anza could not find it until
he had placed ue: aes the influence of the mescal
buttons.
The whole idea was too absurb for a sane mind to con-
sider. The scout marveled that so intelligent a fellow as
the lieutenant should profess to believe such a cock-and-
bull story.

“Nomad won't find any gold-mine, McCune,” said the
scout, with conviction, “unless he happens to stumble
upon it in his mad race. We'll follow him, of course, for
there is nothing else left for us to do; but as soon as we
can capture him, we'll do it

“That won’t be soon,” said the lieutenant, in a-regret-
ful tone.

The hard, horse sense of the scout baffled him.

He believed in the mescal buttons, just as he, and his
Irish ancestors, believed that a banshee came around the

little cabin on the Old Sod and sang three times before

one of the McCunes passed in his checks.

But the scout had no faith in banshees, nor in the
miraculous powers of mescal buttons. Nomad was out
of his head because of, some driig that the brown pod
had been steeped in. There was reason in such a belief

as that, and no reason at all in the extent to which

McCune carried his conclusions.

The conversation between the pursuers was of a jerky
sort, owing to the difficulties under which it was carried
on. All the while they talked they were reaching out
after the fleeing horseman ahead. Nomad was scrambling
over hills and through ravines, pausing’ an instant on
every rise to look back and take note of those who were
on his track.

Suddenly, as the scout and the lieutenant gazed, No-
mad ‘surmounted a steep uplift; and, when he dropped
out of sight, his horse seemed to sink under him and
roll over, just as the animal had done in passing the
freight-wagon. a

“We've got him now!” cried Buffalo Bill. Li ne
hasn’t hurt himself, but just got stunned a little, we'll

get hands on him before he can clear out.”

The lieutenant was not enthusiastic. He felt sure the

wildly careering trapper had had another fall, but he was

not sanguine of capturing him. In his heart he wanted

Nomad to escape, and to lead him and Buifalo Bill to

Chief Anza’s gold-mine.

So he trailed well behind while Buffalo Bill picked his
cautious course up the rise to the place where Old Nomad
had disappeared.

BILE STORIES:

 

wOL suffering any very serious consequences.

Indians are not given to mining opera~ -

» CHAPTER VIII.
THE BOX CANON.

Once again Old Nomad and the horse he was ie
had come through a perilous fall without breaking a limb
The scout
did not see his pard or his mount; the fact that he did
not see them, where they ought to be lying if the fall had
put them out of business, was ample evidence that they
had scrambled up and started on through the hills.

‘The scout rested and breathed his horse until ees
came alongside.

“We can’t tumble around these uplifts in the way Nick
is doing,” said the scout. “Ifa sane man would take a
fall like the one my pard just had, he would break his
neck.”

“There's a “special Providence looks after fellows like
Nomad is, at the present time,” remarked McCune. “That.
was all of a twelve-foot drop, straight down,’ he added,
gazing at the side of the hill, “and not very good ground
to land on, either. Nomad made good’use of his time.”

“He went one way or the other along that crooked
little valley,’ observed the, scout, nodding to the rift
below them. “We'll have to get down there, McCune,
and get to trailing. Nick is a good hand at blinding his
trail, and if his ordinary shrewdness isn’t blurred by
this crazy streak, we'll have to be lively or he’ll lose us.’

McCune was as anxious not to lose Nomad’s trail as
he was to avoid capturing him, and he turned briskly to
making the descent from the rise to the valley. Several
valuable minutes were lost in getting safely to the foot
of the small declivity ; the trail was then readily picked

up, and was found to run westward.

The narrow cleft through the hills was almost serpen-
tine in its curves and turns, so it had been a comparative-
ly easy matter for Nomad to regain his feet, help his

‘horse up, remount, and get out of sight.

The character of the trail he had left showed that his
horse was being goaded onward at a tremendous rate of
speed.

ee isn't like Nomad to use a horse like that,” said the
scout, “and it leads me to believe that he isn’t as sharp
in his present condition as he is when his mind is
sound.”

“You can’t tell, Buffalo Bill, what object he may have
in view,’ answered McCune “I may not have done any-
thing particularly hright when I was in Nomad’s condi-
tion—in fact, allowing myself to be tied to that tree by
Two Sticks seems anything but bright—but for whatever
I did I probably had a purpose.”

“Locoed people are generally supposed to be sly, rather
than clever, and cunning rather than shrewd. You were
cunning, for instance, when you feigned unconsciousness,
untied the ropes that bound you to the saddle, and gave
Nomad and me the slip.”

In following the plain, recently made trail they were

able to proceed at a gallop; yet, even at that, they could™

not hope to make the speed Nomad was making.
Presently the hoof-prints they were following began
to clutter up, as though the trapper had ridden his horse
in circles,
“Here’s trouble,
ning his tricks.”
And trouble there was. At no point aroand the outer-
most hoof-prints could they find a place where the
straightaway trail had left. The scout, more skilled in

”

said the scout, “for Nomad is begin-

 

 

 

 
      

ing

vere
juld~

gan
Orse

oin-

iter-
the
fin

  

 

 

 

 

| place.”

this, ’d never have believed it.
: thing, everything considered.”

that may take us several days.
supply of rations along, Buffalo Bill.”

McCune.

difficulty that faces us.

-woodcraft than was McCune, pulled away from the clut-

ter of tracks and picked up ‘the trail a dozen yards off,
leading into a small, dry ravine that entered the valley.
“This way, McCune! !” shouted Buffalo Bill.

“Tow the deuce did Nomad get ’way over there?” de-
manded- the lieutenant. “He ee t do. it without
wings.’

The scout laughed.

“He fooled us by tramping up the eround,” he ex-
plained, “and then he rubbed out the marks he left to this

j
t

“How could he rub them out?’
“Tied his rope to the corner of the saddle-blanket,
weighted the blanket ‘with a stone, and hauled the
primitive contrivance over the trail. That obliterated the
hoof-prints and didn’t leave enough of a crease in the
ground to attract attention, Oh, I reckon Nick’s sagacity
hasn’t suffered any. Ifsome one had told me, yesterday,
that my old pard and I would be fighting each other like
It’s a mighty strange

“Queer things are happening all the time, Buffalo
Bill—things you never dreamed of, or would think were
possible.”

This was a significant remark, und was foegded to

bring home to the scout a suggestion that he was not

wise in being so cock-sure there was nothing miraculous
in the brown pods.

The trail, leading over stonier ground, was now harder
to follow, and alert eyes were needed to keep it in sight.
The cunning Nomad, bent on achieving his irrational
purpose of foiling pursuit, had not been content with his
fine work in the valley. Assuming that the trail would
be picked out of the. tangle of tracks there, he made use
of every bit of stony ground that, lay along the present
course. There were places, indeed, where the trail could

_not be seen at all, yet the scout knew it must keep straight

on as there was no other way for it to go.

“We'll be up against another kind of a proposition,
pretty soon,” said McCune.
_ “What is that?” queried the scout.

“We prepared ourselves, at the post, for a hort trip
to Silver City, and here we are, stacked up against a trip
We ought to have a

“This journey can’t last more than twenty-four hours,
You and Two Sticks each ate one of the mescal
buttons, and in neither your case nor the Indian’s did the
locoed condition last longer than that. Each of those pods

- seems to have been charged with a sense-destroying drug

lasting that length of time.”

“Right you are! . 1 hadn’t thought of that. Yet, even

~~ at that, our horses can’t stand the pace for twenty-four
hours, even if we Cans: -

“As for ourselves, we'll pull up our belts a notch when

hunger begins to pinch: and as for our horses, when they

begin to fag out we'll halt on the Gila for water ard
erass. Nomad, you know, will be up against the same

his horse. He'll have to make for water, and the nearest

- water will be the Gila.”

_. The scout was right in this, as they soon discovered.
Nomad’s trail left the defile and led upward to a bristling

The nature of

cliff-top where it lost itself in the shale.

THE BUFFALO

       
 

I am convinced that he is clever .
enough to understand that he will have to take care of

Bl STORIES: a ng

the ground was such that it was absolutely impossible to
do any trailing over it.

“Here’s where we're up a stump,” remarked MeCuat a
gruesomely.

“We're up a hill, anyway,” said the scout. “We'll go

-on to the very top ‘and see what we can find by looking

off over the country from there.’

Five minutes of laborious work brought them to the
crest. Half a mile off, and almost directly in front of
them, flowed the Gila—a thread of water between high,
precipitous banks. They were able to look downward
into a box cafion—a gash in the rocks nearly a mile long,
with narrow openings at each end where the stream
entered and left.

“There’s the Gila, all right,” muttered McCune, twisting i

his right knee around the saddle- horn to ease his stirrup-
cramped legs for a space.

“And if Tm not mistaken, McCune,” said Buffalo Bill,
shading his eyes from the sun and gazing intently, “there’s
Nomad just entering that box cafion from the east. Take
a careful look and see if you can’t make out a moving
point at the bottom of the cafion.”

“By George,” exclaimed the

“youre right, Buffalo Bill!
there, sure enough.”

“Tf that’s the case, then we’ve got him trapped. He'll
be going through the cafion, and he'll take his time, for
his “horse must “be pretty welll spent by now. We'll go
to the western end of the cafion and wait there. We can
water our horses, let them browse on mesquit beans, and
take a little rest ourselves. Klat-a-way, McCune, as
Nomad would say. Another spurt and then we'll be in
at the finish. We'll have to tie Nomad up, I suppose,
until the ft wears off.’

Once again McCune failed to show any enthusiasm. Ii

lieutenant presently,
‘There’s a horseman down

«Buffalo Bill's hastily formed plan worked out as they

anticipated, Nomad would be headed off before he reached
Chief Anza’s mine, and a pet object of the lieutenant’s
would be frustrated. However, McCune could do no less

that keep alongside of the scout and make a show of

willingness even if he did not feel any great amount.

The course down the hill and across the rough country:
was not especially difficult, and it was not long before
they descended the slope to the Gila hard by the exit
from the lower end of the cafion.

The lay of the land made it easy for Buffalo Bill and
McCune to lie in hiding among the rocks, on each side of
the stream, and spring out on Nomad when he rode
through. If the old trapper came through on the leit
bank, McCune would get him; if on the right bank, then

: he would fall to his pard..

“The horses were watered, and the two riders refreshed
themselves with a cooling drink; then Buffalo Bill forded
the shallow stream, hitched his horse among the mesquit

» bushes, removed the saddle, and left the animal to browse.

McCune had done the same with his mount on the other
side of the river.

The scout took his rope from the saddle. It was his
plan to hurl the noose over Nomad’s head and shoulders
as he rode past the mass of rock that barred the exit end
of the cafion. In this way he could get the trapper off
his horse, and on the ground, before he would be able to
do any shooting.

McCune had no rope, and would have to rely on his
quickness, and a hurried grapple. Truth to tell, McCune
was not particularly anxious whether he succeeded Or

    

 
  

 

a _ the beetling crags.

ce THE ‘BUFFALO

not, just so he avoided a shot from Nomad, If the old
man could escape, there would still remain a chance to
follow him to Anza’s mine.

Buffalo Bill, however, was very certain oe he had

“chosen for himself the side of the river down which No-
mad would come. Nomad, when seen from the top of
the hill, had been descending the cafion on the right side.
It was hardly possible that, having crossed the river
once, he would cross again to the bank he had left. —
As soon as the two pursuers were in position, there
followed a period of waiting. An hour passed without
bringing Nomad. Evidently he was soldiering down the
Gila, letting his horse nibble the mesquit as he came.

Another hour passed; and, at the end of it, a rattle of

hoofs could be heard from within the cafion. The hoof-
beats were coming slowly, awaking weird echoes among
The thump, thump was caught up
and repeated over'and over again, until it seemed as
though a whole regiment was trooping through the defile.

‘Across the stream, from his nest of boulders, the scout
could see McCune craning his neck for a view of the
- opposite bank within the cafion’s outlet.

Suddenly, McCune settled back and began to flourish
his arms like a wild man.
wordless maneuvers were to indicate that Nomad was
coming down the opposite side of the river. The scout
waved. his hand and nodded to show that he understood.

McCune, however, became even more frantic in “his

eesticulations. He did not dare cry out, of course, for
fear of lettmg Nomad hear, and thus causing him to
turn back. At least, that is what the scout thdught. ¢

Holding the spreading noose in his right hand, and
the coils of the rope in his left, Buffalo Bill waited, his
eyes on the strip of ground along which Nomad must
pass.

The coming horse was quite close, ‘now, and the scout’
raised himself to a standing position.

A horse’s nose appeared around the shoulder a tock.

It was necessary to be quick, and the scout let the wide-

open noose fly just as the rider of the horse was due to

appear.

The noose settled squarely over the rider’s head and ~

shoulders—for it was flung by a master-hand—but they
were not the head and shoulders of Nick Nomad. But-
falo Bill had neatly roped an Apache Indian!

Having gone so far, there could be no backing out, and
the scout, with a fierce jerk, landed the warrior on his
back on the rocky river-bank.

Then. McCune gave vent to the words he had held back -

for so long:

its Anzat s band of Apaches, Buffalo Bill! The cafion:

is ay red with ’em!”’

 

CHAPTER TX, a @
OAT BAY, |

It must. hawe been an Apache Indian instead of Old
Nomad whom the scout had seen in the cafion. At such

a distance, a mistake of that kind could have been easily ©
made.

McCune, on the opposite side of the river, had been
able to see the red men traveling down Buffalo Bill’s
bank, and his frantic gestures had been for the purpose of
warning the scout.”
McCune had yelled.

The Indians would have heard if

 

 

‘BIEL, STORIES:

As Buffalo Bill took it, these -

  

 

 

    

The scout understood all this when it was too late.
As for his present situation, he had one of Anza’s ganz
on the ground, and the rest of the red desperado’s outfit
were coming down the cafion. Would Buffalo. Bill have
time to get clear before the remainder of the Apaches ap-
peared?

His nimble mind leaped like lightning over he predica-
ment in which he found himself, and he was not many
seconds in reaching a conclusion as to what he should do.

“Hike out, McCune!” shouted the scout. “Look out
for your own scalp—l’ll take care of mine.”

McCune scrambled from the rocks and rushed toward
his horse. From the nature of the ground, it was easier
for the approaching red men to look across the river and
see McCune than it was to look down the river and see
Buffalo Bill.

As the lieutenant dodged out of his nest of rocks, a
great screeching rang through the cafion, and arrows and
2 few bullets flew after his retreating form.

These sounds were followed by a furious splashing of
water, which was proof to the scout that Anza’s band
were taking after the lieutenant in a body. This would

have been a good thing for the scout, but he had no in-
tention of saving his own hide at the expense of Mc-
Cune’s.

The Indian Buffalo Bill had roped had repained: ‘Ais

“feet and had flung ‘the noose from his shoulders. The

scout rushed down the bank toward the Apache, zigzag:
ging to avoid a hatchet which was launched at him.
The hatchet whizzed harmlessly by, and the scout came
to close quarters with the Indian on a sandy stretch of
bank within full view of the warriors crossing the stream.
‘The Apache had an old-fashioned pistol that fired with a
brass cap. As soon as he had thrown his hatchet, he
picked up the pistol from the grotiid where it had
dropped when he was pulled from his pony’s back.
Before the painted brave could pull trigger, however,
the scout had drawn and fired. With a ee -raising yell,

the Indian dropped his weapon and grabbed at the wrist :

of his pistol-hand.

Buffalo Bill snatched up his riata and bounded back
up the bank toward the place where he had left his horse.
With a quick glance, he saw that the body of Indians
who had crossed the stream had divided, and that some
were going on after McCune and some were returning to
the bank they had just left, to settle accounts with the
man who had set upon the leading Apache.

The daring scout’s purpose had been to accomplish this
very thing, thus giving McCune a better chance of escape,
even though his own was lessened. Arrows and bullets
came after him, just as they had followed McCune. A
poisoned shaft caught in his hat-brim, jerking off the
hat and carrying it several yards up the bank.

He flung the revolver back into his belt, coolly stooped
to recover the hat and tear away the’ arrow, then ran
on to his saddle. With saddle over his shoulder and rope
dragging, he pulled his horse loose from the mesquit
brush, vaulted to the animal’s bare back, and raced for

maine top of the bank,

  

 

 

  
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
  

Pe Oo hee
   

ad

ed
an

a
1it
or

 

 

of it as it glided into the air.

 

The trailing rope caught in the bushes once or twice
and he was half-inclined to abandon it. There had been

‘no time to get the saddle on the horse, and no time to

‘coil up the rope. But he did not drop the riata—and the
use he was able to put it to afterward made him glad
he did not.

«The top of the bank, westward of the cafion, was a
rocky ridge, dipping on the north into a long level of
desert, which offered no opportunity for making a stand
in case the scout was forced to such an extremity.

Buffalo Bill’s only feasible course was to traverse the
tidge-top, until he could find time to adjust his saddle
and get in better trim for flight.
were still taking pot-shots at him, and he heard the slap
of a bullet on the saddle over his shoulder, and the sing
But for the presence of
the saddle the scout would have been toppled over with

a bullet in the back.

_ Spurring rapidly, he gained the cover of a pile of rocks,
rounded to under the lee of it, slipped down,’and got his
saddle in place in record time. He also drew in the riata
and dropped. the coils over the pommel.

Only a few minutes were necessary for this, and he - was
then ready for flight across the open stretch.

But while he had been busy with preparations, so had
his enemies been. At least ten had crossed the ridge,
leaving their ponies at the cafon outlet.

_ Gaining the shelter of stones, they coiled behind them —

like rattlesnakes, ready to strike if the scout should at-
tempt an escape across the level. At the foot of the ridge,
on the riverside, were ten or a dozen more warroirs,
unhorsed and crouching behind small barricades.
- Buffalo Bill was surrounded. He took in the situation
with cool calculation. He would have one chance in ten,
perhaps, if he made a dash down the slope toward the
open, shooting as he went, and plunging through the
half-score of Apaches who were there to head him off.
But the odds were too great. If he were to be wounded
so he could not keep the saddle, or if his horse should be
shot from under him, Anza’s braves would have a new
scalp—and the scalp of Pa-has-ka, the famous Long-Hair,

would be big medicine for the Apaches.

No, Buffalo Bill concluded, it would be best to remain
right where he was. His horse was safe from arrows
and bullets, and Buffalo Bill himself was fairly secure.
Fie would make a stand and fight from cover,

_ Removing his hat, he flung himself down on the rocks,
poked the muzzle of his rifle through a natural loop-
hole among the stones and let drive at a hand’s breadth
of red hide showing above a boulder at the riverside.

A yell followed the Shot, and the patch of ted disap-
_ peared.

‘Bullets and arrows ae against the spot from which
Buffalo Bill’s shot had come,. but he had withdrawn to
give his respects to the besieging force on the other side

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES,

The pursuing Apaches ©

 

15

of the ridge. There were two sides to watch and only
one pair of eyes to.do the work.

_ The reds from the desert side of the ridge were making
a forward movement, bent upon gaining the crest of the —
uplift and pouring into the scout’s little stronghold. He
discouraged that maneuver for a time, downing one
redskin and wounding a second.

While peering desertward, he saw the lithe form and _
crafty face of the notorious Chief Anza, himself. This
was not Buffalo Bill’s first acquaintance with Anza. He
and the chief had met, some time before, in a rocky de-
file in Arizona, under circumstances somewhat similar
to those that surrounded the present meeting.

The scout would have given a good deal if he could
have picked off the wily Apache, but Anza, to use a slang
phrase, was “‘onto his job.” He kept well in the back-
ground, shouting to his warriors occasionally and direct-
ing them what to do.

It must have seemed to Anza, as it did to Buffalo Bill,
that if the red men played a cautious game they would —
ultimately be able to make an end of their white foe.
Laek of food and water, in time, would prove the scout’s
undoing. /

For half an hour the Indians on both sides of the ridge
were careful not to expose themselves. Buffalo Bill could
see nothing to shoot at, so held his fire.

He wondered, as he lay there, vigilant and on the alert, __

how McCune was faring, and whether the reds had sur-
rounded him. He was still turning this phase of the
matter over in his mind when a rattle of hoofs burst from
the cafion outlet, and above the rattle rose a series of -
frenzied yells.

Through a score of Indian ponies, bunched in that
direction, drove the disheveled form of a white horse-
man, pell-mell. The ponies immediately stampeded, the
two Indians in charge of them trying in vain to shoot
the white apparition that had appeared so unexpectedly,
and to round up the animals they were guarding.

The ponies, with the apparition howling like a demon
behind them, broke away down the river-bank, rushing -

at breakneck speed over the place where the savages on

that side of the ridge were hiding. :

A tremendous confusion resulted. Some of the
Apaches were struck down by the hoofs of their own
horses, others plunged into the river to escape the frantic
pony-herd; and on and on.down the river-bank, firing
his six-shooters and yelling at the top of his lungs, raced
Old Nomad, leaving the ieee savages behind
him,

Here was a most unexpected chance for Buffalo Bill.
In a twinkling he vaulted to the back of his horse, rode
out from behind his breastwork, and dashed into the
cafion. Nota bullet nor an arrow followed him,

_ Nomad, unsound of mind as he was, had saved his pard ee
and got away scot-free himself. oe

 
  

  
 

16 THE BUFFALO BILL “STORIES. Ms oe

CHAPTER x.
(RECONNOATERING,

" Buffalo Bill was ‘as much astounded by. the sight O.
‘Old Nomad as were the savages themselves. Where
had the old trapper been hiding all that time? Had he
been in the cafion, while. the Apaches” were Beles
through ie

In his normal ‘condition it would have been like him to
hid out in the cafion and let Anza’ S braves file through;

but, certainly, the. old man had not borne down on that _
pack of ponies, and through | the besieging Indians with. -

any intention of helping his pard. In his present temper,
every, man, white or ‘red, who stood in the trapper’s way
was an enemy. ‘Nomad ‘seemed to be going somewhere in
a hurry. Any one who blocked. his ¢ course would have to
take the consequences. :

The scout. had no fears that the demoralized Indians
-would be. able to overtake the fleeing trapper. Buffalo
‘Bill would himself have liked to follow, but to do so with
so many Apaches against him, was not fo be thought of.
e he scout’s only avenue was up the cafion, so he raced
into it, through it, and | gut at the other end.
| ‘So far as he could discover no Indians followed. He
had made a safe getaway, and his fears now were all
for McCune. Beyond the upper end of the box cafion
‘Buffalo Bill halted and considered.

To the north of the cafion lay rough country. Skilled
in Indian fighting as he was, it would be an easy matter
for him to ride back tow ard the lower outlet and recon-
noiter. After an hour of waiting and watching for some
signs of pursuit on the part of Anza’s gang, he forced
his horse up the steep declivity east of the cafion to the
rocky ground, and trailed slowly back i in the direction of
the ridge.

From time to time he would dismount, creep to the
brink overlooking the bottom of the cafion, and gaze
down. He saw no sign.of Apaches in the deep mountain
gash. Apparently they were all below the outlet.

Warily he continued on until near the outlet of the
.cafion. Then he muffled his horse’s head in the saddle-
blanket, to prevent a neigh or whinny that would betray
him, secured the animal in a thicket, and did oe rest of
his reconnoitering on foot. ae
_ He knew the Indians were near. Fortunately, he hap-
pened to be to the leeward of them.

Creeping forward, he gained a spot from Which he
_coyld look down on the place where he had laid in waiting
to snag Nomad with the riata. Through a copse of
bushes growing out of the rocks, he looked downward.

The Apaches had recovered their horses. They had a
captive, too, but it was not Nomad. It was McCune.

McCune’was bound with thongs, in the Indian fashion,
and was seated with his back against the steep side of a
tock. He was directly under the spot where the scout

ag

‘too evident to the scout.
the hapless prisoner would be treated in the usual sum- —

“was crouching, and not more than ‘twenty? feet below :
him. ~A short distance, indeed, but McCune might as well .
have been twenty miles away, so far as the scout’s ability

ae Breet

to help him just then was concerned.
McCune did not appear to be wounded, although: i
face, what the scout could see of it, had the look of

‘being bruised: Fhe Indians, no doubt, had ae Bes

with their fists and the flat of their hatchets.
What they were goimg to do with MeCane’ was only
After a few hours of captivity,

mary manner of the Apaches; and a lonely prospector,

coming through the cafion, would find at its outlet a few -

charred sticks and some bleached bones.
Looking ahead; the scout could see this fate ioonttee

up before the lieutenant; and his heart filled with a de- «

termination to exhaust every resource to prevent it.
“McCune, knowing what he did of the Apaches, must
have had some foreknowledge of his impending doom.
But he was perfectly cool—in every way a brave man
who could look upon as most terrible death unflinch-
ingly. hee
The lieutenant had i weak spots—what brave man
has not?—and, to Buffalo Bill’s way of thinking, his

belief in the malign and supernatural influence of those _

mescal buttons was about the worst to be brought against
him.” Still, Nomad had bowed to the same uncanny belief
in the brown pods. Buffalo Bill would have walked
through fire for his trapper pard, and he would do the
same now, if necessary, in order to save McCune.

‘The Indian ponies were tethered well down the stream,
within easy reach of both water and forage.
them, hitched well to the outside of the herd, the scout
could see McCune’s horse.

Both horse and rider had, to all appearances, been cap-
tured uninjured. This spoke well for the craft and ¢un-
ning of the red men who had trailed the lieutenant.
scout knew that McCune, had it been possible, would
have put up the fight of his lite to avoid capture.
Four or

Those

The scout counted twenty-five of the Apaches.
five were wounded, but were able to be about.

who had been slain were not in evidence—having, no
doubt, been holed up in the sand, and given a good start
toward the happy hunting- 3

grounds. ae

While the scout was watching the herd of tethered
ponies, he saw a redskin come out from among them
leading a pinto. The mane and tale of the pinto were
braided, and there was a bridle-thong at its head, and a
wolfskin bound across its back. The warrior sprang
upon the pony and forced the animal toward the place
where the braves were grouped.

Pie redskin was Chet Aton timsel Brant hee he
crouched, Buffalo Bill could have put_a bullet oe ‘

the wily chief’s heart without stirring an inch.
This, while it would have been most agreeable to the

- Among —

The —

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- them for a while in his own tongue.

 

 

tif brace of army Colts was dangling from it.

 

 

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~ The work went on.

 

 

 

a

if

m4

United States authorities, was not the scout’s Hew oe

warfare. Nor would it have been policy, with McCune
‘aveaptive and - Buffalo. Bill scheming for his release.

Anza rode toward his red followers and apnied
As he talked, he
waved his hands toward McCune, and the scout was
made aware that the prisoner was the piney person
under discussion.

‘The warriors received their chief’s ee ely.
What Anza was saying was evidently going against the
geain, to some extent. Was the chief ordering that the
‘soldier be held a captive ffr a time?

‘That was what the scout. gathered from the palaver.

Anza was going away. Where?

McCune’s belt was buckled about the chief’s waist, and
McCune’s

carbine was also across the withers of the pinto. A
medicine- bag hung from the front of the belt.

Anza raised his hand. Like a lot of rabbits the war-
riors scattered to get behind rocks and crouch there,
craning their necks to watch the chief.

With a grave face, Anza thrust a hand into his medi-
cine-bag; and drew out a little brox wn pod. -

Buffalo Bill, watching from his place of concealment,
was intensely interested.

With a look to skyward, Anza swept his hand toward
his mouth. A minute passed; then the phlegmatic red-
skin aroused to violent and frenzied action.

A hair-raising yell went up from his lips. Whirling his

_ pinto, he shot across the river, climbed the opposite slope,

and vanished like a streak.
Buffalo Bill, for a moment, was dumfounded.

The yarn of that Apache renegade must have held a
kernel of truth, at least. Anza had eaten one of the pods.
Was it his intention to go to the private gold-mine which
he was supposed to have at some place in the permite
country?

AS soon as Anza had vanished, the Indians crept out
from behind their ee Le

Day was drawing to a close. Black shadows hovered
about the cafion, and in the east the deepening flush of
evening was creeping toward the zenith. o

‘The Apaches began gathering’ pieces of wood for a

ae With the coming of night they could kindle a fire

without fear of having the smoke seen by prowling foes.
Some steaks of a freshly killed
antelope were cooked over the blaze, and the two Indians
who guarded the pony-herd came in to gorge with the
rest of the warriors.

‘Here was the chance for which Buffalo Bill had been
waiting. The first step in the rescue of McCune must
be. taken at once. - f

Drawing noiselessly away from the bushes, be laid his
rifle down on the rocks and started by a roundabout
course for the pony-herd, -

; s
a . ee : \ : se

 

- | THE BUFFALO

“slope to the top of the ridge.

BILL STORIES: : Eos
CHAPTER XI.

THE RESCUE OF MCUNE,

_ If McCune was to get safely away, in the event of
rescue, he must have his horse. That fact was prominent-
ly before the scout’s mind.

The coming im of the two Apaches who had be !
watching the herd afforded the scout an opening of which
it was necessary for him to take advantage before the

guards finished their gorging and returned to the ponies.

Unused to a white man as were the Apache cayuses,

4f the scout were to lay hold of one of them there would

undoubtedly be a commotion which would attract the
attention of the warriors at the fire.

ahe scout, therefore, was glad to think that McCune’s -
mount was at a little distance from the herd, and com-
paratively easy of approach,

Advancing from the leeward, so that the Indian ponies
would not scent him and become restive, he cautiously

-moved through the gathering dusk, availing himself of

every stone and bit of rough ground in his path.

Slowly he crawled down the river-bank. He was in
line with the Apaches—in a level line—but coming night
and small uplifts shielded him, and the feeding savages
had no time for much of anything, just then, but their
meat.

Softly the scout rose beside the horse, the body of the
animal between him and the camp-fire. He cut the buck-
skin rope with his knife, leaving about six feet of it for a
hackamore; then, still keeping the horse between him
and the Indians, he gradually forced the animal up the
At a quicker pace he de-
scended the ridge, followed its base at a trot, climbed
another ascent, and had the animal with his own, in a
chaparral of greasewood. :

So far, so good. The initial, and smallest, part of the
work ‘had been successfully carried out; but even in the
successful performance of it lay a danger. When the
two guards returned to the pony- -herd, if they discovered
one of the animals-missing, and noted how, the tether-
rope had been severed with a knife, a general alarm would
at once be sounded.

The scout must finish his work of rescue before such
a possible dilemma might arise. And ee lay his
principal difficulty.

How to snatch McCune from the midst of the red men
before the guards should return to the herd and discover
that one horse was missing, was the problem. —

Buffalo Bill had already worked out the proposition int
his head, but the success of it depended upon many con-
ditions which must shape themselves exactly right.

Unhitching his muzzled horse, he led the animal as
near the spot where he had left his rifle as he dared.
Here he secured the horse again, removed his riata from
the saddle-horn, and crept to his post of observation.

a

 
   

   

  

: The Indians had consumed their meat, two were going
back to the herd, some were rolling up in their blankets,
and others were sitting, tailor- fashion, faces | to ‘the fire
and cigarros in their mouths.
. The firé. was bright enough to cast faint gleams on
McCune. He had not been offered any of the roast meat,
for that was not the Indian’s way with prisoners. He
was still seated with his back to the steep rock, twenty
feet below the friend .who was eager to rescue him.
The Indians who were smoking were talking among
themselves, Suddenly, from the pony-herd, came the
Apache yell of alarm. Every Indian jumped up. Those
who were smoking dropped their cigarros, and those who
were lying down flung their blankets aside.
Again came the yell from the pony-herd. . All the
Indians started on the run down the river-bank. » |
“Lean forward, ‘McCune, Jean forward,” called. the
scout from his perch,

He called in-as loud a tone as a ee for the Indians
who had left the camp-fire were not far off. McCune’s
form shook with amazement. He was a moment in com-
prehending that he had a friend at hand; then, just as
two of the Apaches turned back to watch their prisoner
while the others went on to learn of the trouble with
the herd, McCune leaned ae shoulders out from: the
rock.

. Buffalo Bill dropped the noose of the ada
it fairly over the bent shoulders of the man below.
McCune understood, then, what was going forward,
and he did what he could to help. His hands were tied
at his back, but he caught the loop in his fingers and held
it while the scout pulled it taut.

Then, w eighting the upper end of the rope with a stone
Buffalo Bill rushed for his horse. Bringing the animal
_ hurriedly, he tied the loose end of the rope to the saddle-
horn, and led the horse straight back from the brink of
the cliff.
It. was not a new trick. Nomad had successiully
worked such a proceeding, long before, and the success
of it was vividly in the scout’s mind.
Buffalo Bill, who was obliged to be at the bits of his
horse, heard shouts from the Indians below—from the
two who had come back in time to see their prisoner
amounting upward into the gloom. A crack of shots fol-
lowed the yell, and the scout fretted as to the effect of
the missiles, -
A moment later, the head of McCune Sipeaeed above
the brink. a
Stopping the horse, the scout leaped to the lieutenant,
clutched him by the shoulders, and heaved him to the top
of the rock.
“Thunder !” eurgled McCune. “Is that you, Buffalo
Bie? |
‘Yes. Hurtany?-

‘THE BUFFALO

BILL STORIES.

The scout was cutie off the riata and | Alyn ne

knife about the ropes. They must. be swift, or all would
be lost. Already the savages were yelling below, every

brave back from the pony-herd and listening to the aoe
counts of the two who had been sent to watch the .

i

prisoner.
“No, I’m not hurt any to speak of,” replied McCune.
“Then, climb to your feet and hustle. The ropes ae
Ons 4

eye

McCune’s limbs were benumbed by the biick set
thongs. . He tried to rise, but toppled over.: The scoyt,

picking him up in his arms, carried him to the horse and
lifted him to the saddle.

“Wait here,” said he, and darted away to > where the.

‘other animal had been hitched.

Hastily untying the buckskin rope, he passed if be- ye

tween the horse’s jaws in a half-hitch; then, springing to
the animal’s back, he rode out to where McCune was
waiting, : :

- “T got this horse for you, McCune,” said Buffalo Bill,
“but there is no saddle or bridle, and you, with your arms

and legs half-paralyzed, can probably stick to that saddle

of mine better than to a bare back, while we are making

our escape from the reds. Come on! If we get clear it

will be by the skin of our teeth.”
A tramp of ponies’ hoofs could be heard mounting the
side of the ridge. The Apaches, enraged by the audacious

manner in which their captive had been spirited ay ays |

were wild to effect a recapture.

But the night was a friend to the fugitives—the hee
friend they could have had. By night there can be no
trailmg; and, by night, too, it is possible to hide away
in crannies and escape the detection that would be certain
by day. .

Away the fugitives raced, up seh the rough coun-

try to the north of the box cafion, the iron shoes of their —

horses striking fire from the flinty stones. In and out,
up and down, tan the devious trail; and far behind, but

steadily growing in volume, came the patter, patter of
_ unshod cayuse hoofs.

What would happen to that devoted band of red rene-

-gades if Anza returned and found they had let the

prisoner get away from them? There was fear for this
in the hearts of the savages; and with that fear was.

coupled the rage a baffled Indian always feels toward the

person who has tricked him.

“They’ Il. do their prettiest to catch us, McCune, a the
scout, who was in the lead, called over his shoulder.

“Ii I had a gun,’ answered the lieutenant savagely
between his teeth, “I'd make the scoundrels pay dear for
the attempt if they bring us to a show-down.”

“Anza rode off with your guns

“How do you know that?”

“IT have been watching you and the Indian camp for
some time.” .

 

 
 

 

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THE BUFFALO

“Did you ‘see what Anza did, Buffalo Bill, before he

Ss
d
rode away on that pinto?’
? There was a quiet joy in the lieutenant’s s voice. Even
a then he could exult a little over. the way that ae
ce renegade’s story had been borne out by recent events.
“T saw it,” called back the scout grimly.

: “He ate one of the mescal pelo started for that
gold-mine of his.”
. “He ate one of the buttons,” answered the scout.
ve “Where he started for remains to be seen.’
i “Say, Buffalo Bill, what if Anza and Old Nomad
should meet at the mine?”
: » @6=— “It’s all up with Anza, if they do—but, of course, that

. | ish’t at all possible. Both Nomad and Anza axe mad
: | with the drug steeped into the brown pods. lf their
; trails happened to cross, there would be one of the worst
i battles that ever happened in the Southwest.” ;
Unless Nomad

“Their trails will cross, mark that!
gets to the mine, washes out his gold, and leaves before
Anza gets there.”
a ™ Bosh!”

# = “No _bosh about it. Those pods
(—@ = “Bother the pods, McCune! It’s life and death with
| “us now.» The reds are gaining, and we've got to dodge
them, 3

-“T’ll leave everything with you, Buffalo Bill. A man
f who can do what you did—snake me out of a bonfire
/ j those reds were going to build around my feet when Anza
mh gets back—well, you’re the bank that gets my gilt.
Whatever, you say, goes. You know oe in a minute
about Indian fighting than I do in a year.”
- “Turn -in—here.”

Buffalo Bill turned to the right, slackened down, and
spurred into a notch in the hills. McCune rounded into
the notch beside him. a

 

 

pushed the crown up about his horse’s nose.

~The horse you are riding is already muzzled,” he
whispered to McCune. “Keep him quiet, that’s all. The
stir of a hoof might reveal us. Steady, now. Here’s one
of my revolvers. If you have to use it, make every shot
count. We’re not going to be captured alive, McCune,
and that shot goes as it lays.” :

: Buffalo Bill reached over the bare back of his. horse to

pass McCune one of his six-shooters.

 

~ The tattoo of hoofs approached, passed, one lithe form

after another silhouetting against the lighter background
of the sky, and shooting on into darkness again. The

last Apache went by, and the clatter of hoofs died into
| silence,

Buffalo Bill pulled away his hat and Bue it on his head
with a low laugh.

“That was easier than I hoped? * he Conia eod “Now

to double back on. our trail, McCune, and lose ourselves
in the hills,

Wuft!”

   

ss

BILL STORIES:

' . “Same here,” laughed McCune.

- The scout leaped softly down, jerked off his hat, and

_ dazed for fair.

   

   
 
 

 

“What’s the matter, Cody: ” queried the lieutenant,
surprised at the scout’s ejaculation. —

The scout was just rising to the bare back i the horse. _

“T was just thinking how good thoee broiling antelope
steaks smelled,” he answered.
“T’m hungry ee
to eat a pair of ‘chaps.’ ” ; :
With that, he followed Buffalo Bill out of the notch,

and away on the back-trail.

 

CHAPTER XII.
‘TRAILING NOMAD AGAIN.

On the Rio Gila, several miles below the box cafion,
Buffalo Bill and Lieutenant McCune pitched their night

. camp. They had doubled and redoubled, resorting to

every: expedient of the trained plainsman to hide their
tracks against the possible daylight trailing of the baffled
Apaches. :

There on the Gila bank they felt safe. Securing their

horses in the midst of a meager plot of gramma grass,
they sat on the hard ground and leaned their backs against
a rock.
Moonlight and starlight oe over the calm face of
the river, which opened into a pool in front of ‘their
camp. Both were tired out with their day’s work, but
each felt the need of a little talk.

“T all but turned myself inside out, Buffalo Bill,”
McCune, “trying to tell you, by finger and whole-arm
movements, that the Apaches and not Nomad were com-
ing. I didn’t dare to yell.”

“T thought you meant to let me know that Nomad was |
coming down on my side of the river, ” returned the
“Tt was a bad mistake, of course; but the Apaches

Where

said

scout.
would have found us even if I hadn’t made it.
did they capture you?” .

“T had hard luck, Buffalo Bill. I was making a good
run of it, when I took one of those falls we saw Nomad
take. My horse slid out from under me, and I shot clear
of the saddle and landed on my head and shoulders. [Pm
not very brittle, so I didn’t break anything, but | was
When I rallied, and was able to sit up
and take notice, they had me. Talk about your arch-
fends! The Apaches may not be the real things in that
line, but they’re A-1 understudies.

“T was bound and helpless, but that didn’t keep the _

red cowards from prancing around me and mauling me
mn the face with their fists. When they got tired of that,
and I was insensible again, they must have carted me
back to the cafion outlet; for, next thing I remember, |
was lying on the ground at the base of that wall, from
the top of which you afterward roped me.

“As long as I live, Buffalo Bill,” finished MeChne.
with deep feeling, “I shall never forget what you did

for me!”

OG
 

  

 

20 oe “THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES

 

Let it 80 at that, McCune,” returned the scout, nee
unkindly, “Tt was only by a toss-up bok I was able to
be where I could do anything for you.”

Buffalo Bill went on to tell how he had been surrounded
on the ridge, and how Nomad had come charging out of
the cafion, stampeded the bunched ponies, and carried
momentary demoralization into the red ranks. He fin-
ished with an account of his own escape, and of thé way
he had engineered McCune’s rescue. .

“Nomad! muttered McCune. “Crazy as he is, he
served us well, after all. The ee wouldn't touch
him; no Indian will harm a crazy man.’ ie

“Not if they knew he was crazy,” qualified the scout.
“They might have done a whole lot of harm to him,
though, before they found out he wasn’t right.”

“But they didn’t? He got away?”

“T'll gamble he got away, McCune! I’d bet my spurs
he’d have climbed over the whole Apache nation to get
away. Nick Nomad is a host in himself, when his mind
is right; when his mind is wrong, like it is ae it looks
as though he’s twice the man he usually is.”

“Well, well!” and McCune let out a-low laugh. “It
seems like a cinch that Nomad and Anza will lock horns
at that hidden gold-mine. There’s no——” ©

Buffalo Bill, seeing the way McCune's ‘mind was
trending, turned the subject.

“Mighty queer, lieutenant, that those Apaches should
show up in this region just in time to block our game!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Buffalo Bill. From the number of
arrows Anza’s braves are using, it appears as though the
copper-colored scoundrels are short on guns and am-
munition. “Anza wants to hit that gold-mine a lick and
get loot enough to equip his gang. That’s why he’s

hustled for the Gila. You'll notice he didn’t waste much .

time getting outside one of those pods. He’s on his way
to the mine now, and so’s Nomad. When they——’

“Tf you’re going to talk that way,” broke in the scout,

rolling over, “I’m going to sleep. Keep watch for three ~

hours, McCune, and then call me.”

Turn and turn about they slept and watched out the
night. As the sun rose, a prospector with two burros
hove into view from below. McCune was asleep, and
the scout went out to meet the wanderer.

“Buenos!” called the scout.

“Buenos!” returned the hairy Arab, eying the scout
with suspicion and making no move to halt. _

It’s a safe rule to travel by that’you will meet none
but enemies in the desert. That’s the rule with prospect-
ors, anyway; and when they meet a stranger in the wilds
they will give him civil greeting and keep traveling.

“Just a minute, pilgrim,” said the scout. “Tf you keep
on the way you're heading you'll drop into a nest of
Apaches. Anza and his gang are in the country, and

ee near the outlet of the box cafion.’

 

his tat.

_sophically.

The prospector sepped with a startled a

“Who mout you be?” he asked.

“Buffalo Bill.”’

“Thunder!” and the hairy man grinned and teacie
out a hamlike paw. “Shake, Buff’lo Bill, A warnin’ from

. you goes ever’ time. I'll take ter'the hills an’ fight shy o’

the cafion.”
“How about a little chuck?” asked the scout, with a
hungry eye on the prospector’s pack.

“Kin give ye some jerked beef an’ crackers. Purty low

on grub, though, which is mainly ther reason I’m trek-
kin’ ter Silver City. Howsumdiver, Buff’lo Bill is wel-
come ter anythin’ I got, an’ all I got.” :

The prospector pushed up the dirty canvas’ cover of
the pack and fished out of the depths a chunk of “jerked”
and a pound of broken crackers.

“Obliged to you,” said the scout, taking the stuff in

“Buff’lo Bill needn’t be obliged ter me fer nothin’,
Buenos!”

“Buenos!” :

And so this wanderer, this man of few words, drove
his burros into the Gila, splashed to the opposite bank,
and gave death and the box cafion a wide berth on his

road to Silver City.
So it happened, too, that when Buffalo Bill shook

McCune into wakefulness, the latter sat up and saw a ,

breakfast waiting for him.

“Now, how the blazes———” began McCune, staring at
the food and then at the scout.

“Get busy,” laughed the scout.
trail

“Where did this come hoa ” .

“Kicked it out of a rock,” and there was a twinkle in
the scout’s eye as he spoke.

“It’s time we took the

“Go on! Where'd you get the grub, anyway °” o.

“Don’t you believe that I kicked it out of a rock?” |

“TH believe you ate one of the pods if you don’t
stop!”

“Might just as well believe that as to believe in > thie
miraculous powers of those pods,” said the scout philo-
‘“There’s as much sense in one as there is in
the other. A prospector happened along, McCune, and |
warned him'away from the reds at the cafion. He opened
his heart and his pack and gave us the Pees and
the crackers.”’

They ate quickly, then mounted their horses and started
down the Gila,

“Where to: ” inquired McCune.

Buffalo Bill pointed to hoof-tracks in the 2a of the:
bank,

“Same old- game, McCune,” said he; “tracking Nomad. —
The Indians recaptured their ponies, yesterday, before
they had come this far down, but there’s my old pard’s
trail, big as life. If he hasn’t blinded it, or tried any

 

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e : 6
tricks with it, we’re going to find him. We must find
: him, that’s all. If he comes to his senses, this evening,
“and is inthe meet of all outdoors, he won't have a

notion where he is.’

- “Wonderful how those brown nods furnish a Fico
with instinct to go right to ae mine, without a trail
or sign-post to a

 

  

 

“McCune!” The scout pulled | in his horse and looked |

hard at the lieutenant.

“Well?” said the lieutenant.
iT saved your life, didn’t 1?” .

“Why, sure,” answered the surprised ec oe

“You owe me something, Gone your”

“More than I can ever repay.”

“You can repay the debt, all rickety.

“How: 7?

“By keeping still about those pods.”

The lieutenant whistled, then he grinned.

PAM nett, Buffalo Bill,” he said cheerfully ;
bargain.”
_ “They traveled down-stream for : an hour then Buffalo
Bill, who was riding ahead, cee rein for McCune to
come alongside.

“Took there, McCune,” said the scout, and pointed to
the ground ahead. @

ee a

CHAPTER XITI:

FOLLOWING TWO TRAILS.

®

McCune looked, then sat back in his saddle rubbing
his chin thoughtfully.

. “Two trails,” said he.

“That’s right,” returned the scout. “One of them
comes across the river and heads onward side by side
with Nomad’s. I don’t like the looks of things.”
| The scout put his horse in motion, and McCune jogged
jalong stirrup to stirrup with him.

“Why not, Buffalo Bill?’ the lieutenant asked.

oe horse that crossed oF river was an Indian
-cayuse.”’

“What of that?”

“A pinto,” went on the scout, catching two colors of
horsehair on a white thorn bush where the Indian cayuse
had scraped against it.

“By Jove!” exclaimed McCune, his . eyes widening.
‘“‘“Anza rode a pinto!”

“That’s why I don’t like the loolks of things. Nomad’s
ahead, Anza’s behind. Anza has your gun and revolvers,
and what’s to keep Nomad from getting a bullet in the
back ?”

“J can understand that part of it, Buffalo Bill, but I
don’t think the case is so serious.” _

“It's plenty serious. Anza is trailing Nomad; and
- we're trailing the two of them, but several hours behind,
_ A whole lot can happen before we overtake the two.”

  

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

   

“Take my word for it, Buffalo Bill,” went on  Mecute: 7 | A
He int. 3

“Anza just happens to be going this’ way.
trailing Nomad. They're going the same road by a
happenchance, that’s all. t

“Tm taking the common-sense view of it; and you're _
taking that flighty mescal button view, which won't Pol
water.”

McCune would have liked to talk some more, a in’
view of his promise not to mention the pods he had to
hold his peace.

Buffalo Bill redoubled his speed. They still followed

the Gila. An hour later, they came to a place where the

wide, sandy banks contracted, and the water was shut
in by bastions of rock. ves

There were no banks left for them to travel Chee
for the water flowed up to the very base of the steep
walls. Both trails; however, entered the water.

“Flere’s where the hoof-prints leave us,’ said the scout,
looking into the gloomy gorge that lay ahead. “What —
crazy idea took Nomad in there is more than I can
fathom.” wen

“He didn’t know where he was going, Buffalo Bill,”
suggested McCune. :

“I. believe that.” Ae
“Vet he was impelled ioward 4 definite point by a
psychological instinct beyond his power to resist.”

“Have it your way, professor,” replied the scout dryly,
“but trail along aiter me.” | ‘

Hugging the right-hand wall of the gorge, the scout
spurred into the water. The river, at first merely cover-
ing the fetlocks of the horses, soon came up to their
knees.

The gorge walls were shutting in closer and closer.
There was an appreciable descent to the river-bed and
the current was swift. From somewhere in the distance
came the dull, steady roar of rapids.

“We're going it blind, Buffalo Bill,” called McCune,
from the rear.

“Tis a blind trail,” answered the scout, “but it ed
into the gorge. ree Nomad and Anza went we
ought to be able to go.”

“Sure we can. I’ve been over this road ene
although I can’t remember anything about it. Forge
ahead; and wherever you go you'll find me behind.”

Closer and closer the gorge’ walls approached each —
other, swifter and swifter became the current, and deeper
and deeper went the horses into it.

Buffalo Bill was now sweeping his stirrups in the flood.

The roar of the rapids beyond had increased to deafening c :

proportions in the confined space.
_ The gorge walls were several hundred feet high, and —

steep as a house wall.
it was impossible to make out much cones Hae the walls

by the eyes alone. —

  

ar a

The darkness was so deep that ~
 

  

22 THE BUFFALO

       
     

Finally, Buffalo Bill halted; and his nee in order to
ae from being Swept off his feet, had to brace back as
from the expected jolt of a thrown riata>
_ “What’s the matter?” yelled McCune.

“A waterfall!” roared Cody. He had to roar in order
to make himself heard. “Nomad never came this far;
if he did, and tried to get over the falls, then he went
down to his doom. And so did Anza,’ added the scout.

“They couldn’t have come this far,” shouted McCune.

“Then they must have turned in through what seems to
be a solid wall.” oe

“Perhaps the wall isn’t so solid,”

“Head back the other way and we'll grope over the
face of the wall with our hands.”

Turning the horses in that swift torrent was fraught
with danger. McCune’s mount came within one of being
swept away.. Finally, however, both horses were,headed
about, and, with McCune in the lead, the riders groped
along the face of the ey wall. :

About half-way back to the entrance to the gorge, Mc-
Cune stopped and gave a triumphant yell.

“What have you found?’ asked the scout.

“It feels like a hole in the wall, Buffalo Bill.”

“Big enough for a horse and rider to get through?”

“From the limited examination I am able to make with
my hands, it is.”

“Then turn in and try it!”

McCune’s horse needed urging, and pulled back rebel-
liously on the hackamore. Buffalo Bill slapped the animal
from behind with his hat. Then slowly McCune and his
horse pushed out of sight, seemingly into the solid stone.

The scout followed, feeling the heave of his mount as
the animal slipped up an inclined plane.
later the scout found himself wrapped in blank darkness.
The roar of the Gila came, miuffled,-to: his ears, and a
draft of chilly air fanned his face. |
“How’s this, Buffalo Bill?” called MeCine. his voice
pealing out thunderously..

“It’s a mighty peculiar place,” was the scout’s response.
“Are you blockaded in front ?” |

“Not that I can see.”

“Then keep moving until you come to a place where
you have to stop. Now that we’re in here, we'll see the
end ee it. No ee though, whether Nomad came this

way.” .

The horses moved slowly and cautiously. The scout
put out his hands and touched cold stone. He lifted one
hand, and touched it again.

He and McCune were threading their way through a
cut-out in solid rock—a cut-out, undoubtedly, worn by
some ancient offshoot of the river.

“Look out for your head, McCune,” warned the scout.
“This groove is just about big enough for a horseman
to pass through, and the roof may dip unexpectedly.”

   

A few moments |

‘thing, the change from intense darkness to bright sunlight

BILL STORES: oe :. .

“Low bridge, Buffalo Bill!” called out McCune, on me

heels of the warning. “I just butted my head against the...

roof, After the batting those reds gave me, though, the
jolt wasn’t severe enough to mind. : guess ‘we'll have to
get off the horses and lead them.”
“Good idea!” oe
They dismounted and continued on, turning crook after
crook. Finally McCune, rounding a turn, gave an as-
tounded cry.
“What now?” demanded the scout, one hand leaping to

2 Tevolver. .

“I’ve run into a horse.”

“A horse {7

Taking chances on making a target of himself, Buffalo
Bill struck a match.

He and McCune were ina rocky tunnel, smoothly worn
on all sides and scarcely more than head-high. Looking
ahead, the scout saw that the lieutenant was. standing be-
side a cayuse—a pinto!

“Anza’s mount!” chirruped aMcCune, with a trium-
phant laugh. “And there’s another horse ahead, Buffalo
Bill,” he added. ©“Strike another match so I can get a
look at it.” »

The match was struck, and a-second exultant laugh
floated Back from the lieutenant.

“Nomad’s bronk is ahead,” he announced. “Both No-
mad and Anza are around here somewhere. They had
to leave the horses at this place, as the roof comes down
so low a man would have to crawl to go farther. What's
the next step?”

“How are Nomad’s and Anza’s horses tedie |:

“To rings in the wall.”

“Rings in the wall! The words startled the scout. Iron

“rings in the wall bespoke the previous presence of civ-

ilized men ; perhaps ancient Spanish conquistadores! The
remains of handiwork of the old Spaniards were run
across occasionally i in that country.

Po

Buffalo Bill, having something to look for, found two
of the iron rings in his immediate vicinity. They were
heavy and massive, and covered with rust.

(We ll-tie up here,” said the scout.

The horses were secured to the rings, and McCune

led the way past Anza’s and Nomad’s horses. A few
paces onward, the roof came so near the floor both had
to get down on their hands and kneés. Nevertheless,
they pushed steadily on, awed by the strange turn their
adventure was taking.

Presently a gleam of light showed ahead.

“T can see the way out, Buffalo Bill,” said McCune.

“Crawl for it, McCune,” returned the scout.

The hole grew lighter and lighter, and at last the
lieutenant vanished from the burrow. Buffalo Bill swiftly —
followed, and got to his feet in a blinding glare of day.

For a few moments neither of the two could see any-

 

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bo blurred the sight.
spread out before their eyes.

_ towering mountains.
and surrounded on all sides by: sheer walls hundreds of

“more than a quarter of a mile in diameter.
of the basin was filled with great chunks of broken rock.
In the center of the depression was a small pond of water, »

awe; close: to. Chief. Auras mine.

Buffalo Bill,” announced McCune, ee

i hey had come into a,small basin, set oe among the
The: basin was circular.in shape,

feet in height.
At no point did the -cliff-locked cephcuene measure
The bottom

fed, probably, by some underground outlet of the Gila.
A vulture soared through the blue sky, hemmed in by

the circular precipice, but no other sign of life met the

eyes of the scout and the lieutenant. |

“We're close,” whispered the lieutenant, in a voice of
1 feel it in. my
bones.” 7
hese dud Anca are ere cn ee here,” returned
the scout; “and that is something tt more to the point.”

“Where are pe re

“That’s what we've got to find out. Dacha? said the
scout slowly, “we may not be able to find them alive.
We've got to search carefully, for neither of them would

hesitate to shoot us down from behind one of those pieces

of rock. If they’re alive, McCune, we have crazy men to
deal with. Don’t forget that.”
AS they stood there, searching the depression with

their eyes, the crack of a rifte smote on their ears.

_ “This way,” said Buffalo Bill instantly, locating the
point from which the sound came, and starting off.

CHAPTER XIV.
‘CHIEF ANZA’ S MINE,

In making ‘his way toward the place from which the
rifle report had come, Buffalo Bill was careful to dodge

along under the lee of the big stones that covered the
-basin’s ‘bottom,

As he had fixed the place in his mind, the shot had
sounded from the vicinity of a mass of broken granite
lying on the edge of the pond. With McCune following

close at his heels, he gained a boulder close to the edge

. the water-hole, directly across from the piece of gran-
Here the scout and the lieutenant ened to make

' ae

“there's something i in the water at the edge of the pool,
“Can you
make out what it is?”

“Tt’s a cradle for washing out gold,” said the scout,

immediately recognizing the contrivance, even from that

distance. “And there’ sa pail and a pee and shovel be-

yond: it,:

_“Vhere must be Sot: foe then,” reputed MeCune.
STo judge from ey cradle, yes.

JHE BUFFALO BIEL STORIES.

ne vision cleared, a eae view —
oe sure

a way that made him a bad target.
‘him, but no bullet fanned in his direction.

  

  

“Anza’s mine,” muttered MeCaac

23 ®

ane was - ie

 

A rifle barked again, anda atlet an oe a piece ‘6
the boulder within a foot of McCune’s head. He ducked

down with more haste than grace.

“Thunder ! Y’ he gasped. “Who’s plugging away. at us?”

eat may be Anza taking a chance at you with your

own gun,” said the scout; “or Nomad, maybe. Anyhow,
the fellow, whichever he was, was behind that ¢ chunk of
granite over there.”

    
 

 

“He wasn’t shooting at us when he fired that first x

time.”’

“No: but he’s shooting at us now, and we can t reply
for fear of hitting Nomad.’

“That’s the tough part of it,” murmured McCune. ou
can’t cut loose with this six-shooter of yours, and you

can’t do anything with that rifle until we get the lay of the

land. ae ve just got to let that Jaye over there one
away.” ‘

“We'll travel around the ee of the pool,” said the
scout, “by running from rock to rock. Ill go first. If
'Nomad’s behind that piece of granite, look out for him.
He can split a bullet on a knife-blade at that distance.”

“Gee-whiz!” exclaimed McCune. ae Prey
ere. ‘ :

The scout did not answer, but ran like a deck for the |

next piece of granite. He was shot at, but he moved in

“Guess I was too quick for him,” said McCune. “He
didn’t have time to eject the empty shell and get another
in place before I was across that open stretch. No fun
in this, Buffalo Bill—jumping around like a pea on a hot
griddle just to keep from getting potted.”

“Poor old’ Nomad!” exclaimed the scout. “He’ll fret
his old head off when he comes to and we tell him
about it.” HG

They took a' look from this fresh point of observation,
They were now in a place where they could see around a ~

piece of granite near the one from ae the ae
was being done,

The lithe form of an Apache was doubled up back of

the rock. The Apache, of course, was Anza, and Anza,

with McCune’s rifle in his grip, was angling for a shot at

the enemy behind the other piece of granite, who must
have been Nomad. But Anza wasn’t so particular about
Nomad. He showed that he was willing to shoot at any
one by letting go at Buffalo Bill, who” was staring eG
the edge of his own breastworks.

‘Here's a queer situation,”

back as Anza’s bullet whistled past. “Nomad is behind

McCune darted after.

said the scout, ‘drawing Ao

one rock trying to hit Anza, and Anza is behind another _

rock trying to hit Nomad; and here we are, McCune,

epee

drawing the fire of both of them. We can’t.shoot at

Nomad, and we’re not able to get a shot at Anza.”

  
 

299

What’ S the answer: ed McCune quizzically.
“Fave we got to stay here and wait till the * power of the
‘dope wears out and Nomad realizes we’re friends?”
“I don’t believe we'll be able to do that, either, for —
A fusillade from Nomad’s rock drew the scout’s atten-
tion around the edge of the boulder again. Then another
phase of the situation” presented itself to him, and he
quickly communicated it to McCune. —
-“Anza’s in a tight hole, I reckon.

 

In order to get a

crack at us, he has to slide around his rock so far that

Nomad manages to get a chance at him; and when he
gets. out of Nomad’s line of fire, Te s “right in range of
ours, I'll try him once.’
~The scout poked the muzzle of his rifle around the
boulder and pulled trigger.
“He jumped away just in time,” :
ing back behind the rock. “Listen! there goes Nomad’s
gun again. Anza’s got to make a change of base, or be-
tween Womad ao me we'll make a good Indian of
him. Ae
“The crack of guns was almost incessant. Nomad dis-
tributed his favors as impartially as did Anza, both bla-
zing away, from time to time, at the rock where the scout
and the lieutenant were endeavoring to hold their own.
Every time Buffalo Bill showed himself to take a crack
at Anza, Nomad butted into the game and drove him
back. Finally Buffalo Bill laid down his rifle in disgust.

Ne ever, in all my pioneering,” said he, “have I encoun-
tered a situation to match ey

said the scout, dae

is for you and 1 to eat a couple of ie buttons,” said
the lieutenant.. Then added suddenly: “I beg your par-
don, Cody. I wasn’t to talk about the pods; but that
slipped out before I thought. Nomad must have been
here, using - that. rocker and ee out gold when
Anza came in on him,”

_ “Anyhow,” said Buffalo Bill, ae came in on him,
and the two have been holding each other behind their
rocks ever since. Not much damage has been done so
far, but, between us, we've got to get Anza before he
has a chance to leave here, And we've got to get Nomad,
too, or keep him penned up in ne basin until the effects
of the drug wears off.” ty

“No. easy job you’re a fer us, | Buffalo Bill,” said
McCune.- “Suppose Nomad should take it into his head
to charge on us?’

_ The scout was thoughtful on a minute.

“My riata is back where I snaked you up. the face of
the cliff,” said he finally. “I wish I had it now. Do
you remember seeing a rope on Nomad’s horse?”

“Yes, if I remember rightly, there’s a riata coiled at his
saddle-cantle. You're not thinking OF ae back after
it, are you?” ee as

Before Buffalo Bill could answer something fepocded,
Nomad’s rifle began barking as fast as he could change

THE BUFFALO ‘BILL STORIES,

_ for Buffalo Bill and McCune.

 

empty shells for loaded ones, and press the trigger. 7 -

scout took another look at the situation,
Anza had been forced out of his breastworks.

The.
place had been made too hot to hold him, and he had ~

    

darted out and was running like a deer for the hole that

led fo. the river.
He dodged about among the rocks : as he ran, so that to

hit him, the way he was oe was oS short of au
_ Impossibility.

“He’s making for the river!” bvicd McCune excitedly.

“And he’s so anxious to get away that he’s dropped his
rifle!” added the scout.

“We mustn’t let him get away!”

“We mustn’t let him get into that tunnel here we've
left our horses. It’s a chase, McCune! Come on, and
look out that Nomad doesnt bag you!’”.

As the scout finished Spee ine, he rushed out after the
fleeing Apache. oe

McCune sprang into the open and followed.

Shes,

 

« CHAPTER MV.
THE ‘END Ce THE BATTLE,

|For a time Old | Nomad did not indulge in any shoot-

ing, As the scout figured it, he had Mehed the maga- —

zine of his rifle and was refilling it.

_ This, if the correct explanation, was a fortunate thing.
They. zigzageed and
ducked as they ran, but no lead was hurled after them.

Anza was running like a streak, bounding over the

small stones that got in his way like an antelope,

dodging around the larger ones.

The scout was running as he had never run before,
for he realized the imperative necessity of stopping the
Indian before he could reach the tunnel and the horses.
McCune, with extraordinary thoughtfulness under the
circumstances, ran by the way of his dropped rifle, and
paused to gather it in.

Buffalo Bill was far and away ead of McCune Lf it
had remained with the lieutenant to overtake the Indian
and.stop him, he would never have been stopped.

The scout was too busy with the chase to waste the
time necessary to halt and fire. He had an idea that his
own magazine was pretty nearly exhausted, and if he/had.
taken the time to stop and press trigger on an empty

shell, the little time lost might be all that Anza ee :

to get away. oe
Minus his rifle, the chief cou trust only to his legs,
and he _was certainly making good use of them. The

scout was twenty feet away as the Apache dived for the

hole leading into the tunnel.

Buffalo Bill, seeing his quarry vanishing, ‘dropped his
rifle and: made a final dash. ‘Stumbling to his knees at
the hole, he made a

grab and caught Anza by one moc- ae
‘ Casined f00t.. oo | J

 

 

Pa af Se ieee ae pe ET a

 

 

 

    

-— AS

  
     

Niche, Se SO eet

 

  

get back with the rope.

abruptly.

Anos cowed and ed Tike” a Selde ie the

scout, exerting all his strength, pulled him out of the

“opening. “Then followed a hand-to-hand struggle, in
which the locoed Apache, after endeavoring unsuccess-
fully to get at the knife in his belt, gouged at the scout
with his nails, and even tried to. bite. :

- Rolli ing. the frenzied redskin over on his back, Buffalo
‘Bill pinned him down with one knee, clasping both hands
about his throat-in a strangling pressure.

_ Anza’s. little - ‘eyes rolled wickedly. He was game to
ie very end, and it was plain that he would struggle as

long as there was any breath left in his body.

_ At.that moment McCune came dashing up.

pe Let me give you a hand, ee cried the. lieutenant
Epo athledsly.
eve got him,” neited the scout. “You go into the
tunnel and get that rope from Nomad’s saddle. Look
alive, McCune! The loss of a second may lose us the
whole game.”

_ McCune, without oa word, dropped his rifle and’ shot-
‘into the hole leading to the tunnel.

He had a long way
to crawl to get to the horses, and a long way to crawl to
Meanwhile, Buffalo Bill had no
fears of Anza, but of ee What would the trap-
per do? :

As the scout, holding the struggling and choking
Apache down on the rocks, asked himself this question,
he flashed his eyes toward the pool, and that look gave
him his answer. | a

Nomad. was coming, holding his rifle in one hand and
flourishing his long skinning-knife in the other.

Anza was not yet throttled into helplessness. If the
scout let him go, he would probably take to the tunnel
again, and in the narrow passage he would meet McCune
crawling back with the rope.

The scout’s brain grew dizzy with the thought. It was
a dilemma from which his ready mind could see no pos-
sible way of escape.

Long before Anza would be bohaered helpless, ae
before McCune could get-back, the trapper would reach
the scene and take.a hand in the combat,

Nomad was coming for the tunnel entrance at top
speed. His eyes were flashing frenziedly, and he yelled
murderously as he bounded onward.

As the trapper came close, Buffalo oe a last resort,
sprang up, with the Apache still in his grip. With all
his: mighty strength he swung. the half-naked form of

Anza between him and his crazy pard, holding the red- ~

skin in that position despite his struggles.
Then the Miexpeced happened.
Nomad, within arm’s teach almost of the squirming

Anza, and faising the long knife for a blow, halted
A wild look overspread his face—not a wild-

ness born of the drug that had turned his brain, but the

“THE BUFFALO.

     

-an’\made er break fer my hoss.

BILL STORIES, , | 28

wildness of. ayes paviderdent The see. bea. ea
his eyes, and the look they held was. filled with. a

‘blankness.

Knife and revolver drapped frank his nerveless. grasp,
ie his hands. leaped to his forehead. . _ For. a moment he
staggered, as though about to fall,

The scout, translating these actions, ae that ie dme

had run its allotted time. The trapper’s brain was throw-
ing off the deadly power of the poison that had rendered
it temporarily unbalanced.
Ww ith a gasp of satisfaction at this eed ‘but
most opportune condition, Buffalo Bill hurled his red an-
tagonist to the ground again, and kept him there, tighten-
ing his relaxing grip.

“Buffler !” ye the bewildered trapper.
ther blazes is ther matter?”

“Everything’ s all right nozw, old, pard, Ye "answered But-
falo Bill. é ae
'/@Whar's ther kunnel? Whut’s become o” ther post?
We ain’t at Cummings, aire we? Thort we was goin’ ter
ride ter Silver City, you, an’ me, an’ ‘McCune, ter tork
with thet half-breed.” — -

“It won't be necessary to ride to Silver City” now,

Nick.””
- “How’s thet? Ain’t we goin’ ter take ther trail. arter
Chief Anzaz.. | got ter do somethin’, Buffler ; I shore. got
ter git busy. Thet thar rope-an’-catermount puzzle is
botherin’ me uncommon. An’ them pods—er———”

Nomad halted and brushed his hand across his. face
again.

“Seems ter me like I et one of ’em,’”’ he went on jerkily.
“Thet’s what I done! I downed one er ther pizen things
I ricollect thet, shorely
I do, But say, Buffler, I ain’t dreamin’, am 1?”

“Not now, Nick. You have been dreaming, but you ye
woke up—woke up just at the right time.\

An’ I'm ee fussin’ with ye

. “What

Ye fe thar, ain’t ye?
ter find out what’s what?”

“Yes, Nick, I reckon we’re both here.”

‘Waugh!’ and Nomad’s voice was 4 rebellious roar.
“Whar aire we, Buffer? We ain’t at ther post.”

“We're in the hills.”

“Who's thet ye got under yer hands?”

“Don’t you recognize the fellow, Nick? He's an old
acquaintance, Chief Anza!” .

“Ve’ye ketched him, hev ye? Say, Buffler, et ain't
right. I was ter hev a hand in thet, an’ hyar -ye've
gone an’ done et all by yer lonesome. Am I yer eo er
on’y a hired man?” a ae

The scout laughed. There was a ludicrous as well as
a pathetic side to this awakening of Old Nomad.
_ At that juncture McCune came scrambling out of the
hole in the wall. At sight of him Nomad jumped back,
and stared. McCune, on his part, let off a yell of con-
sternation and dropped the rope he was ais.

   
 

ae | ‘THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

_ “Great Scott!” ejaculated MeCune, and brought the
six-shooter the scout had given him into play.
_» “What ye doin’, McCune?” demanded Nomad.
in’ ter pill er gun on me? Say, aire ye locoed ”

“McCune dropped the hand holding the revolver and.”

turned in amazement to Buffalo. Bill.
- “What’s happened, Cody?” he asked faintly.

_ “Nomad. threw. off the evil effects of that pod sev- |

cal hours quicker than you and Two Sticks did,” replied
the scout. “He’s all right, and his mind is as sound as
yours, or mine. Bring the rope over here, McCune, and
let’s get Anza “secured.”

~The scout and. McCune, between em, ‘pound the
hands and feet of the half-choked Apache.- When the
prisoner was safely bound, Buffalo Bill sat down with his
ack. to the wall of the cliff, watching with amusement
the way Nomad and McCune continued to stare at each
others |.)

“Whatever s come over. ther leftenant, Buffler: » queried
the old man ay “He pulled er gun on me, he
shore did.”

“He didn’t know but you were going to attack him,
Nomad” said the scout.
at us with that old gun of yours for some time.”

“Me? Bangin’ erway at you two?’ <A look of pain ©

crossed the trapper’s face. “Git out! Why, I’m yore
pard, ther same as hev stood shoulder ter shoulder with
ye in many a fight. Bangin’ ey at Buffler—me, No-
mad! Et kain’t be so.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it, Nick.”

Nomad went over to the face of the clit and leaned
against ‘it.

_ “Is et ter-day, er ter-morrer, er yesterday?” he queried.

“Say, Cody,” chirruped McCune, “you're a little off in
your reckoning regarding Nomad: and the length of time
he’s been under the spell, of the mescal button. Two
Sticks and I took: our dose in the evening, and we came
out from under the influence the next evening. We've
been thinking Nomad would get back his reason to-night,
but we didn’t stop to think. He ate the pod in the morn-
ing; yesterday morning. As near as I can make out,
his twenty-four hours were up some time ago. He has
overrun the time, if anything,” :

The cote of events had taken all oe the scout’s atten-

tion, and he had not given as much thought to that phase
of the matter as he might have done.

But McCune was right. Nomad had been fonper in
the grip of the drug than either the lieutenant or Two
Sticks.

“Well, however that may be, McCune,”
Bill, “Nomad is himself again now, and we can lose sight
of the finer details in the general rejoicing. Since he ate
the mescal button, events have come thick and fast, and
I gave more heed to them than I did to the precise mo- .

4

ment Nomad was due to omerge from the evil effects of

i OT ry ‘

“You've been banging away |

fler 39
el,

of things.

‘said Buffalo

the drug.”
~ “TV been doin’: eine hev 1? ee oad

“T should say you had,” answered McCune, with con-
siderable emphasis.

Nomad went over and ones down by the scout s

side.

“Tell me all erbout et, Buffler,” i he.

 

CHAPTER XVI-
CONCLUSION.

By the time the scout and the lieutenant got through

telling the old trapper what he had done, Nomad had

pulled a-face as long as his arm.

“Why,” said he, “I might er killed somebody!” —

“T should say so, Nick,’ returned Buffalo Bill; “but
you didn’t. You merely gave McCune and me an ex-
citing chase. Indirectly you got us both into the hands
of the Apaches, and indirectly you got us out again,

We're here, and we've got Anza, and you're all rien Ae

All’s well that ends well.”

“T kain’t remember a as thing,”
man gloomily.
_ “Neither could I, Nomad,” said MeCune

wee on the on

“Et’s mighty tough ter think I been oo at my —

pard, Buffler.”
“Td probably have shot at you, Nick,” said the scout

cheerily, “if ’d done as you did.”

“Told ye thar was er heap in them pesky pods, Buf
observed the trapper.

“So did-I,” joined in McCune.
em.” ~
“I take ‘bis much shed in those pods,
Bill, “that I believe they were boiled in some rank de-
coction put up by Quetzal, that Navajo shaman.

brain. You were locoed, and unconsciously you did a lot
think it fills the bill”

Cune.

The trapper turned his pockets inside out.
“Nary a nugget,” he answered.

“Let’s go down and look over the diggings,”
McCune. ;

rou fellows can go,” said the scout, “and Pll take
your repert when you get back. Don't linger too tong.
We've got rations to think of, and the quicker we get

away from this place the quicker we ‘UL get something

to eat.”
“By gorry,”

_ thet was a y’ar ergo.”

“But ven an’ ther kunnel woulda take no stock in

‘Mien:

you ate one, the poison of the pod went quickly to your. —
That’s all the explanation I can give, but I |

“Got any gold in your pockets, Nomad! >” asked Mec- SS

“suggested

said Nomad, “I’m hungrier'n a bar i
reckon ther last thing : et was thet bod, an’ et seems like .

    

   

  

a (uid Bubs . |

 

   
     

   

 

A ate

st

IY

u

vi

aT

  
   

t

   

   
  

 

%

   
 
 

-\They went off down toward the. eho at the bottom of

| the basin. After an absence of perhaps half an hour they

.returned, and some of the trapper’s gloom had been

transferred to the lieutenant.

\

_ “Find any gold?” asked the scout. 7
“Nota color. But that old cradle, and pick, and shovel

ae have been used by somebody in this basin, or they
_ twouldn’t be here.”

“Thar's been Pole hyar, Buffler,”” la Nomad ;
“an’ a lot o’ et at thet. But et was a pocket, a placer

' pocket, an’ et’s been worked out.”

“I must have got the last of it,” aa McCune.
“Taintt-er sayin but what more gold might be found
in ther place ef one was ter take ther time ter prospect,”
continued Old Nomad; “but ther old workin’ s hes plum
Percred out,”
"We're ready to leave, Buftalo Bill, af you are,
MeCune.
yl hen, well stat,” said’ the scout. “Litt Anza and
start him into the hole as soon as I crawl in.”
_ “What’re we goin’ inter thet hole fer?” asked Old No-
mad, watching his pard crawl into the narrew opening.
replied McCune.

29

said

92

_ “Tt’s the only. Way out of this basin,
“Did, 1 come in ye thet-a-way : P?
POEs.
_“Pizen queer thet I kain’t remember ootine erbout
et.”
As soon as the scout had vanished, Anza was picked
uP by the trapper and the lieutenant ne shoved after him.
> Dont forget to bring the guns,’ came the muffled
voice of the scout from within the aperture. “If Anza’s
Sean, tries: to interfere with us, on the back-trail, we'll
need. them.” .
oil Oe ther ree Buffler,” answered Nomad.
“You an’ McCune git ther chief through thet place, an’
Il take keer o’ ther rest o’ ther plunder.”
- With the slack of the riata in his hands, the scout

““rawled and pulled, while McCune crawled and pushed.

The Apache rebelled, and made their work as hard for
them as he could, but, nevertheless, he was dragged to

" the place where the horses had been left.

That trip was full of surprises for Nomad every min-
ute. ‘Nothing could be stranger than his total loss of all
knowledge regarding a aS which he had passed through
so recently.

_“Hosses in hyar, too!” he Sed) as he got up
from his hands and knees and found his pard and the
lieutenant getting the animals ready for the rettirn jour-
ney through the tunnel. “An’ thar’s my animile—not
N EDDY: he’s waitin’ fer me up in ther Black Hills kentry,
ar im glad of et.
place as this. How’d my hoss git hyar, Buffler?”

Nomad was constantly failing to remember his precise
relation to the course of recent events:

THE, BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

I’d hate ter force him inter sich er.

      

“You brought the horse here, Nick,’ ae the scout,
“and tied him just where you see him now.” —~ |
“Seems like I couldn’t help rememberin’ a place like
this hyar, after I’d seen et oncet,” mumbled Nomad. |. .
Anza, fighting every attempt to do anything with him,
was placed astride the pinto by main strength, and roped
there. McCune removed his belt from the redskin and
put it about his own waist.
“That gives me back all my hardware,” said the lieu-
tenant gleefully. “Now if I had my riding-gear I should
get back to the post as well equipped as when J started
out.”
In leaving the tunnel, Buta Bill took the lead, oe
ing to the pinto’s hackamore. McCune came directly
after the prisoner, and Nomad followed McCune.

The slight but slippery descent from the tunnel to the
river was safely made, and the single file of horsemen
waded up the gorge to the sandy bank at the entrance.

There was a running fire of surprised comments from.
Nomad every step of the way. When the party had
reached the bank of the river, a consultation was held,
and it was decided to cross to the opposite side of the
stream and make a cross-country jump to the trail be-
tween Silver City and the post. It was a long jump, and
would take time, but it held two advantages. By going
this way Buffalo Bill and his party would be able to
avoid the Apaches, and they would also pass a small gold-

‘mining camp, where they could secure food, of which

they stood very much in need.

It seemed impossible that Nomad should have. gone: so
long without anything to eat. He may have secured

something, unknown to himself in “his rational state, but

whether he did or not was, of course, an open question.

The return to the fort was made without any untoward _
event occurring. The mining-camp was reached two
hours after leaving the Rio Gila, and all hands, -with the
exception of Chief Anza, did ample justice to a bountiful
if somewhat primitive meal. Food was offered to Anza,
but he turned away from it with an insane glare in his
éyes. For some time yet he would be under the influenc
of the drug. When he awoke to reason, he would find
himself a captive in the hands of the authorities he had
defied for so long. |

From the mining-camp to the trail leading from Silver
City to the post Buffalo Bill and his party made good
time, and it was about the same hour in the evening that
had witnessed the scout’s and the trapper’s arrival, on a
previous occasion, ee the cavalcade drew up at the

post-gate.

“Who comes there?” demanded the sentry.

“Buffalo Bill, Nick Nomad, and Lieutenant MeCune,”
answered the lieutenant; “with Chief Anza a prisoner.”

“What?” cried the sentry. “Chief Anza a pr——”
Then the sentry bethought himself. ‘Beg pardon, leften-
ant, but. the news seems too good to be true. Pass on.”

27
  

  

  
   
  
    
   
   
   
    
   
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
    
 
   
    
 
  
  
   
  
  
   

, veranda.
been relieved of his medicine-bag, but, to the relief of the
officers, none of the pods had been found within it.

. of Tae BUFFALO BILL ‘STORIES.

* Buffalo Bill, Nomad, and I icutenant McCune ae late

ae the colonel that night stnoking and talking on the
Chief Anza was in the guard-house.

Every detail of recent proceedings had been placed be-
fore Colonel Costigan. He had listened with breathless
interest.

“Tt is difficult to credit such a story as you gentlemen
bring me,” remarked the colonel. “In this day and age
of the world it smacks too much of witchcraft, and of the
diabolical doings of the middle ages.
know why Two Sticks tied McCune to the tree in that

arroyo, nor why McCune allowed himself to be tied there;

we shall never know why McCune broke away from Cody
and Nick Nomad, and we shall never know why Nomad
made war as he did on his best friend. But there # is one
thing stranger than all else.” .

Here the colonel paused.

“What is that, colonel?” asked the scout.

“That is this: What made Nomad eat that mescal

_ button, when he had ample proof of what it might do

to him?”

“T was plunt locoed thinking erbout ther thing, I reck-
on,’ said Nomad, failing to note the quiet merriment in
Costigan’s voice. “Then, too,’ he went on, “Buffler
seemed ter be so tarnal afeared I’d swaller ther thing,

thet I ie nachely took ther bit in my teeth an’ pele swal-.

ler et.”

“We'll riever know, either,”
“what it was that carried Two Sticks, McCune, Nomad,
and Anza to. a hole in the wall in the gorge of the
Gila.”

“What proof fo we,” put in the colonel dryly, “that
McCune and Two Sticks went there?’ :

“No proof, colonel,’ spoke up McCune, “unless you
want to take that bag of gold I had in my pocket as
evidence.”

“But you said that there wasn’t any gold in the basin.”

“Not. now-—in the old workings, at least. Neverthe-
less’—-and the lieutenant’s voice became very earnest—
“JT might have washed out the last gold in the ‘pocket.’

_ Everything necessary for washing out the gold was found

in the basin. It was evident, too, that the basin had once

been the scene of operations on the part of the Spaniards.
Buffalo Bill and I found iron rings in the wall of the

tunnel.”
“The more we speculate,” remarked the colonel, “the
less we seem to know. McCune, Nomad, Two Sticks,

was a played-out pocket. Anza’s mine has petered out,
and Anza himeelf is now in the same category. This last
fact, I think, is sufficient cause for anes es all
around.”

“Thar was a heap ¢ ter them pods, I kin tell ye thet! 1

a erred. Nomad dofcedl

He had.

We shall never -

pikeeved Buffalo Bill,

dozen as a momen
er my head an’ makin’ war on Buffer. Waugh!” =.

“There’s one other point,” put in Buffalo Bill, with a

quiet laugh at his old pard’s ‘momentum,’
“What's that, Cody?” queried Costigan.

“That Apache renegade, who brought in Ane old

medicine-bag and the four original pods, said, if I remem-
ber rightly, that the pods were gathered from plants at

the place where Anza’s mine was located. Is that oe

colonel?”

“That’s the story as I got it, Cody,” answered Costigan. :

“Well, there’s not a mescal plant anywhere near the

cliff-locked basin. I saw enough of the surroundings to.
So we shatter one part of the rene-. |

make sure of that.
gade’s story, at least.”
“That may go to prove, Coan observed the colonel,
“that that basin in the hills is not Anza’s mine, after ‘all,

“t wisht I had a couple er
m of the occasion when td was out .

    
 
      
      
       

 

£

even if we concede the rather dubious fact that the old 5

reprobate ever had a private placer.”
“Et must er been ther same mine!” exclaimed Nowad
“Sure it must,’ seconded McCune.
Costigan and Buffalo Bill laughed. ©

“There was. nothing in those pods, Plone! ms said Buf-
‘but a noxious drug—and the Navajo shaman
The drug made those who ate

falo Bik)?
was responsible for that.
the pods crazy for some twenty-four hours.”

“But how about the pods taking Two Sticks and me to

the basin?” inquired McCune.

“We don’t know that they did take you here?

“One of them took Nomad there!” persisted McCune.

“Nomad went there; whether the mescal button took
him there or not is a question.”

“It took Anza there, too!’

“Hardly that, McCune, Anza faa Nomad’s trail,
and followed it—just as you and I followed the trails
left by my trapper pard and the Apache.”

“The more you talk, gentlemen,’ interposed Costietn:
“the less you will make of it.
the prime thing is this: Anza is captured, his band will
disperse peaceably now that their leader is gone, and there

will be no general Apache uprising. This gallant work, °

so expeditiously and surprisingly performed, would

never have been consummated. but for the gallant efforts ©

of Buffalo Bill. That, in substance, is the report which i
shall make to the department.”

So the matter ended; and, of all those at Fort Cum-
mings, only McCune, Nomad, and Two Sticks retained —
any faith in the demoniacal power of the little brown,
-three-cornered pods.
and Anza ate four buttons and found one pocket; but it

THE END.

The next issue of the Burrato Brit Srorres will con-
tain, besides the usual departments and sketches, a com-
‘plete long story, entitled “Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Pasty

or, oo Red Raiders of the Picketwire.”’

After all’s said and done,"

       
      
     
       
     
 

SS Sie Cee

     
  
    

ee Se RS PR OAS

Se ee te od a Letina

 

        
    
 
    

 

 

 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

  
 
  
  
   
  
 

er
ut .
a
Te DEVOTED TO BORDER LIFE
Id NEW YORK, None 20, 1907.
ca
at TERMS ie BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
i (Postage Free.)
> Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.
f TS ie ace Sea banwcanecn'ne 65c. One Year ....----00ce. seueewecee $2. 50
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1e
oO How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order,

 

| registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent
by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter.

Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper
change ef number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly
eredited, and should let us know at once.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City..

  
 

Ormonp G. SMITH t ‘
Gzorcs C. Smrru, Proprietors.

 

 

 

1 ff AROUND THE CAMP FIRE,

AQUARIUM’S SEA-COW.
4 ~The sea-cow at the New York aquarium has been kept
: _ alive in captivity longer than any other animal of its species
. # ever exhibited there.
: | was ten months and eleven days; this sea-cow has been here

0 — now about eleven months, having been received on Septem-—

ber 5, 1906, and it is still in excellent condition at present
writing.

It has never missed a meal since the ne of its arrival
except on two occasions when for brief periods food was
denied it for its own good. It eats about half a bushel of
green stuff daily, supplied to it in two meals, one at 9 A. M.
and the other at 2 P. M.

: @  &Eel-grass is what it eats principally, but it eats also ulva,

Che

2 @ or sea lettuce, and the ordinary land lettuce and romaine and

_ carrot tops and celery tops. It likes eel-grass best of all, but
it is very fond of lettuce; give it all the lettuce it would
eat and it would kill itself iy overeating, just as a land cow
might kill itself by overeating if it got into a clover patch.

_ The various green things grown on the land that are fed
to it constitute the bulk of the sea-cow’s food in winter,
_ when eel-grass is unattainable on account of ice; eel-grass is
the staple of its food in summer. It might seem that it
would be rather expensive to feed the sea-cow in winter on

    
  
  
  
    
   
    

under glass, but, as a matter of fact, it is not.
_ The lettuce thus fed is the trimmings, the ranker outside
Aoaves cut away by the wholesale produce-dealers to give the

   
  
 

the aquarium buys for fifty cents a bushel; so that to feed

  
 

25 cents a day.
The marine farmer, who keeps the sea-cow supplied with

  
 
  

_ of four acres in a spot on the shores of Gravesend Bay.
Like ao land farmer, he uses a scythe in his mowing, but,

 
 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

- standing.

The previous record for sea-cows

Florida lettuce and Boston lettuce grown at that season

heads a sightlier appearance for market, which trimmings

_ the sea-cow on lettuce or. cy in winter costs really only

- ecl-grass in summer, has this season so far mowed an area .

unlike the land farmer, he swings his scythe under water,
doing his mowing at low tide, when the depth of water on

the grass is least.

The eel-grass grows in a season to be four or five feet in
length, the tops of it to be seen undulating, with the move-
ment of the water over it, when the tide is high; equally
familiar is the sight of it as it all lies low and all one way, —
drawn so by the receding tide, when the tide is low; and it
is at that stage of the tide that the marine farmer gathers

so much of the crop as may be required for ig sea-cow's

needs.

Before the present, in cutting eel-grass for the sea-cow,
it has been cut down to the roots, but this season. in mowing
over a space, about four inches of the grass has been left
In the course of two or three weeks the grass
thus left standing adds five or six inches to its length by
growth, and then this space is cut over, down to the roots,
for a second crop, this second-crop grass being found better
and tenderer. ;

When the sea-cow was first brought here from the Florida
waters, in which it was taken, it had in the upper part of
its body, just clear of the base of its tail, a deep wound with
an opening about ‘three-quarters of an inch one way by one-

quarter of an inch the other, a wound such as might be

made by a spear-head and which was perhaps inflicted: upon
the sea-cow in an attempt to capture it. For six months
this wound was treated daily with an antiseptic solution;
it has since been dressed every other day with an antiseptic
powder; these treatments being given when the pool is
drawn clear of water to be cleaned and the sea-cow is lying
on the pool’s floor.

At first the sea-cow flapped its tail with pain when the
treatment was applied, but now it takes it very kindly.

- Twice the wound has closed and pus formed in it, each time

to be lanced and cleaned and the treatment resumed.
It might seem that it would be difficult or impossible to
keep a powder dry within a wound upon an animal that for

so much of the time remains submerged in water, but this

is accomplished easjly. The powder is placed in the wound |
on cotton, the orifice of the wound being then plugged with
cheese-cloth, this making a plug that proves perfectly ef-
ficient. When at the end of the second day, as now, the
dressing is renewed, dry powder is found on the dressing.
removed. Originally this wound in the sea-cow was five
and a half inches in depth; but now it has healed to within
about an inch of the surface, and there appears no reason
to doubt that it will in due time be healed completely. ~~
So this sea-cow, which has now broken the record, ts
getting along in every way very nicely; it is certainly as
well cared for and as comfortable here as any sea-cow could
be anywhere in captivity.
ee ae

LIGHTING THE OCEAN FLOOR.

In order to lure specimens of the deep-sea animals to a
trap, the Prince of Monaco found it necessary to sink an
incandescent lamp with a powerful battery attached; but

the water-pressure at a depth of a couple of miles being sev-

eral hundred pounds to.the square inch, he was unable to
make a battery-box of sufficient strength to resist crushing.
This difficulty was finally overcome by the curious device

  

 
 

  

\

- | THE BUFFALO

of. connecting a rubber-coated cloth balloon to the box. On

forced air from the balloon into the box, keeping the internal
and external pressure exactly balanced at whatever depth was

reached.
So successful was the arrangement ‘that not only were

deep-sea fish snared, but a camera was sent down and nega-

tives of the ocean-bottom under oe illumination were

brought up. Ce oy

CEYLON'S, DEVIL DOCTORS.

A ecadaverous-looking individual, clothed in a variety of
colors, seated in the shade of a tree surrounded by low jungle
and numberless heaps ‘of house refuse—such is the devil
doctor of Ceylon. His paraphernalia consists of a handful
of flowers, invariably red, a tuft of human hair, a few drops
of blood, some betel-leaves, a small hand-mirror, and, lastly,
his all-powerful book of charms. '

This dissimilar and uncanny collection placed in front of
him on a trellised framework, he begins his incantations to
all the devils and spirits in pandemonium.

From time to time he peeps into the book, probably to re-
vive his memory. His communion with the powers of dark-
ness ended, he gets up with a self-satisfied smile, consigns
the precious heap before him, except the mirror, into the
nearest bush, and enters the patient’s house to communicate
to the anxious relatives the oracle, which in almost all cases
is a favorable one; but the obstinate patient falsifies the
prophecy by joining the majority.

ae
BUILT BY, ANTS,

Among the most striking examples of animal architecture
are the immense ant-mounds in tropical Australia. These
are built by the white ants, or termites, frequently attaining
a height of from fifteen to twenty feet. In addition, they are
often surmounted by stately pinnacles, which add a few more
feet to their height.

The hills, or mounds, are as hard as bricks, and not unlike
them in composition, being a mixture of clay, sand, small
pieces of grass stalks, cut to a certain standard length by the
insects, and the whole carefully cemented together.

One peculiarity about these ant-mounds is that they are
built with their lengths lying due north and south. It is
supposed that the mounds are so placed because they then
present the least possible amount of exposure to the noon-
day sun, and absorb the smallest possible amount of solar
heat. .

a ee
APE PRESIDED AT A TEA.

In the zoological gardens of Berlin dwells “Master Lin,”
a chimpanzee. Some time ago this intelligent ape held a
fashionable reception at one of the leading hotels in the
German capital. Wearing full evening dress, “Master Lin’
presided at a “‘five-o’clock tea,’ handing his card with grace-
ful mien to the lady visitors, and passing sandwiches and
other refreshments to his guests. Then, surrounded by ele-
gantly dressed admirers, the chimpanzee partook of a dainty
repast, in which tea, bananas, biscuits, and cakes predomi-
nated, and afterward shook hands with his departing guests
in approved fashion.

BILL STORIES.

 

 

sinking the apparatus the increasing hydrostatic pressure —

o

A 3

A fo FIGHT.

   

 

BY JOS. E. BADGER, JR. :

tg

 

“Did you ever hear of women going on the war-path,

or take to trapping’ in the heart of the Indian country?” |
Lever.

abruptly asked old Pierre Lajoie one evening.
tried it but once, and that fairly sickened me.
you how it was.

Pit gel

“T had engaged with the American Fur Company fee
the spring hunt, they paying me five hundred dollars.

Our company was fitted out on a new plan, at least ‘twas
new to me. Each trapper had a servant—a squaw or
half-breed woman, to keep his clothes in repair, look
to his weapons, cook for him, besides graining the pelts,
and a thousand other items. Tt was thought no by this
we would get through more work.

“We struck out for the Blackfeet country, as we nuin-

bered nearly two hundred mountain men, and felt able to

handle the entire tribe should they offer to molest us.

We kept on until we came to Sheephorn Mountain, but

finding it impassable on account of the deep snow- -drifts,
we changed our course, striking over to the Pont Neuf,

trapping down it to its junction with Snake River.
“At this point our trouble with the redskins began.
We met a strong party of Blackfeet, but evidently they ©

didn’t like our looks, for they made the signal of peace,

and, after a short palaver, a few of the big bucks’ were

allowed to enter our camp. As you may guess, we kept
a close guard over our animals, on the alert for an at-
tempt at a stampede. Yet, despite our vigilance, some
half a dozen young ‘soldier’ Indians,
struck a human foe, and who, because they have a name
to win, are ever more to be dreaded than the old, expe-
rienced warriors, managed to creep through our lines,

and each one mounting a horse, attempted to stampede

the rest by dashing through their middle, yelling like
fiends and waving their blankets and robes. But our
forethought in side-hobbling the animals saved them.

“T don’t. believe, now, that the leading Blackfeet had
anything to do with this attempt to dismount us, or the
stampede would have been better supported; but we did
think so then, and as somebody yelled out to shoot down
the Indians, the cliief and his more prominent braves,

who had remained in our camp, fell dead, riddled with -

bullets, and to this fact we probably owed what followed.
If it was a crime, we paid dearly enough for it, I assure
you.

“The Blackfeet retreated, and we retraced our Sten
up the Pont Neuf, crossing Sheephorn Mountain with-

out much difficulty, the snow-drifts having melted. We

trapped along Bear River, stopping for a time on Sage
and some other good-sized streams, finally rendezvousing
at Weaver Lake.

“While here, a party of friendly Flatheads came in
and told us that_a small party of trappers were corralled
by Blackfeet on.a creek a dozen miles distant; that they

'-were making a good fight, but their ammunition was .
getting low, and unless help came right speedily they i

must go under.
“Such a call as this was never denied i a true moun-
tain man, and twenty of us started to lift the siege.

who had never ~

This
we succeeded in doing without loss on_our side, stealing —
up. within range and letting the redskins have a yolley
that threw a dozen cold, and scattered the rest like a —

     
  

   
   
   
    
   
   
    
   
   
 
   
  
  
   
 

f

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  

     
   
 

 

   

 
 

   

ovey of quail before a coyote. We were none too soon,
ther, for the trappers were almost down to their last
faree OF pOwdel, §< 4, a fae
“Riding double, we started back for the rendezvous,
here, I forgot to say, we were waiting for Lublette and
e rest of the company, who had started out before us.
rom Weaver Lake we were all going to Fort Union, to
out for a winter season on the Yellowstone head-
Bren
It was now but little after sunrise, as. we: had ridden
the rescue before day, and, as we passed through
defile out into the open ground, we heard singing and
shouting to our left and rear. Looking around, we saw
a very large body of mounted Indians, at lease five hun-
| dred in number. It only needed a second glance to tell
» us that they were Blackfeet. re |
. “Had they charged us then, riding double as we were,
they must have rubbed us all out, but instead they made
motions for us to ride on and join our friends. I[ after-
ward learned from a brave who was engaged in the fight
that they felt so certain of us that they resolved to take
us all together. 2)
“Reaching camp, we gave the alarm, and, mounting
| the squaws upon pack-animals, sent them on ahead to
gain a patch of thick-growing willows, some ten miles
- away, while we formed ourselves to hold the Blackfeet in
| check. One fact aided us. It was impossible for the In-
fF dians to surround us. Upon one hand we had a lake,
f upon the other a long, rugged mountain that a goat could
scarcely scale. Still, by forcing us to retreat, the Indians
knew we would eventually be driven into the open
» ground, where they could master us as they do a herd of
buffaloes, by hemming us in on every side.
“The yarmints kept charging on, taking matters easy,
though barely coming within rifle-shot. As we had plenty
F of ammunition, we bowled a few of them over at long
range every charge they made, when they would halt,
and allow us to retreat a few hundred yards.

r “As they had but few rifles, and those rendered al-
most useless by rust and hard usage, we were not in-
jured, and only for the folly of one man—old Bob Burns,

- the most inveterate Indian hater I ever knew—we would
have passed through the
gle life. Nie ee le

“He was always the hindmost one of our party, some-

- times full fifty yards closer to the Blackfeet than any other
trapper, loading and firing rapidly, vet with a coolness

. that brought down a brave with each bullet. _ ae

“At last three Blackfeet darted forward, choosing a

f moment when Burns was nearest them, and his rifle

empty. The old fellow never flinched,:but sat his horse,

s coolly drawing his pistols. He picked off the two first,

F though while doing so they slipped half a dozen arrows

- into his carcass. !

_ “T saw his danger, and called for help to rescue him,
darting forward at top speed, the front guard of the
Blackfeet doing the same. But we were too late to save
| Burns. He felt that he had received his death-blow from
the arrow that quivered deep in his left breast, and

_ charged upon the third Blackfoot, uttering his wild war-

ery, ‘Owgh-owgh-gh-h-h!” ae

» “The Blackfoot gave him an arrow that passed clear

through his throat, dropping to the ground behind him.

| But old Bob made his ‘coup’ in spite of this. He grap-

B® pied with the redskin and plunged his knife into his heart,

[ both falling from the saddle together. ‘ aS

 
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
   
   
  
 
   
 
  
 

 

  
  

 

  

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

|

valley without losing a sin-

- “By this time we were exchanging compliments | with
the Blackfeet, but, seeing that poor Burns was wiped out,

we retreated, closely followed by the redskins, who, how-
y ; no, NOV

ever, were checked by a volley from our comrades.

“We held the mouth of the pass for some time, until
we could see that our women had gained the willows,
and then, riding in a compact body, we followed upon
their trail, As we had foreseen, no sooner were the Black-
feet clear of the narrow valley than they gave the word
to their animals and endeavored to surround us. ‘Had
we grown excited or flustered then, we must have been
massacred, but we all counted on the danger of that, and
knew that unless we kept our wits about us this would
be the ending of our earthly trail. ee ee

“We rode on steadily, keeping those in our rear and
those upon both sides at a respectful distance, while
watching the braves sent ahead to cut off our farther re-
treat. We had spared our, animals thus far, and they
were in splendid condition, just sufficiently warmed up
to do their level best at a word or touch. — ee

“Now! yelled Fitzpatrick, darting forward.

“The Blackfeet had nearly completed their ‘surround,’
when our leader gave the signal we had been looking for
so long. It was a beautiful, superb charge!

“Our rifles, though loaded, rested across our. thighs,
while, guiding our animals with our knees, each hand
clasped a pistol. The redskins met our rush boldly
enough, no doubt believing they could stay us until their
friends could come up, when, pressed upon from all -
sides, we must go under. ;

“Their first flight of arrows emptied two saddles and
wounded a dozen more of our number. But before they
could let fly another we were upon them, and our pistols
began to speak. At such close quarters, even single-
barreled pistols are awkward customers, and the meat —
went wolfin’. : ae

“We cut our way through the Blackfeet, and then ta-
king our rifles delivered a cool volley into those nearest
us with such good effect that they halted in momentary
dismay, falling back beyond range. And, taking advan-

tage of this, we put on steam. and. gained the willows,

where our women and pack-animals were awaiting us.
“There isn't time to tell you all about our fight at the
willows, and there.it was the same from first to last, al-
most a succession of charges and repulses, ruses and
stratagems, by which the Blackfeet sought to drive: us .
from cover: but we were smart enough to’see and hold —
our advantage. When I tell you that we fought them the
rest of that day and all night, you can fill out the picture.
10) SOIL VOUTSelL yh es ve ee
“Matters began to look gloomy enough the next day.
Our ammunition was getting low, and now a dozen of
our men had been killed. It was then that we cursed our
haste in shooting down the Blackfeet chiefs on Snake
River. Only for this the redskins would long since
have given us over as by far too high-priced to suit their
taste.
“Hurrah! suddenly cried out Fitzpatrick, pointing.
over the tops of the willows. ‘Lublette, by Heaven?”
“We saw three columns of black smoke reaching high
up toward the heavens, and recognized the signal agreed
upon between us, by which a junction was to be ef-
fected. . . ve (oe eee
“Fitzpatrick called for volunteers to carry a message
to Lublette, and, though it would be almost certain
“THE BUFFALO

don twenty men stepped forward. Out of these two
were chosen—Job Griffin and Ned Wenemick.
mounted the best animals in the camp, and burst through
the willows. The Blackfeet seemed to divine their ob-
ject, and started after them. Griffin was butchered ere
he had run half a mile, but Wenemick passed safely
through, and informed Lublette of our fix.

“Meantime the Blackfeet had charged on desperately,
hoping to overcome us before aid arrived, but they were
foiled, though our loss was severe. They fled in hot
haste as Lublette and his men came over, carrying with
them the most of their dead.

“Tt was a dear fight to us. We lost twenty-three
good men, besides half a dozen squaws, and that was the

last time T ever went trapping in company with a

coats.”

>

THE DOOMED SENTINEL.

=

BY: STERL, THE RANGER.

“Hang me, Bill, ef the tracks don’ t end mighty suddin,

an’, what’s more, in sech a quar’ way, too.”

“Blamed ef I. ken tell enyhow, Joe. In course, they
didn't jump off hyar, an’ they couldn’t fly off ; so it “pears
cur’us how they did. it.”

The above conversation occurred many years ago, on

the banks of the Ohio River. The speakers were men,
both dressed in the garb of frontiersmen; and their names
were William Ardell and Joseph Harland. They had
formerly lived in Cleveland, but, desiring to have a touch
of frontier-life, they moved out into the wilderness,
erected a log cabin, and in time became two of the most
successful hunters and trappers of the West.

‘Beavers and otters were plenty at that time in nearly —

all our Western rivers, and they had set numerous traps;
and the skins, together with the other wild game which
they shot in the woods, were taken to the settlement and
sold for ammunition, tobacco, etc. Thus they had lived
for several years, and had not been openly molested by
the Indians but once, although they had lost several traps,
which they knew the Indians had taken.

It was Bill’s custom every morning to visit the traps,
and bring home all the skins of the beavers that might
be found therein.- On the morning in question, when
Bill reached the river, he found a number of the traps
gone, while upon the shore were the prints of several
moccasins.

The wrathful trapper hurried home, and informed Joe;
and, securing their rifles and hunting- knives, they set
forth, following the trail. They were both experienced
trailers, and had no difficulty in following the Indians.

The trail led them to the top of a high rock, which was

accessible only on one side, that being level with the

ground. The rock slanted gradually up, till, on the far-
ther side, the top was at least twenty feet from the
ground,
above remarks of the trappers.

_ At the bottom of, and some ten feet from, the rock
stood a tall oak-tree. One of the branches grew out of
the rock, and so near the top of it that a man could easily
reach it. At length Joe, who had cast his eye upward,
observed this limb, and called the attention of Bill to it.
_ The disappearance of she tracks was now made plain to

‘BILL “STORIES.

They
- of the tree, and, coming down on the side fartl

. devoid of life.

Here the trail ended, which occasioned the:

eee ene eee tire eeu |

them. The Indians had caught hold hea li
drawing themselves up, had crept along it to.

the rock, struck off through, the forest. The hu _

the same, and found it as they had suspecter
immediately started forward again, traveled on

and toward night came in sight of the Indian. ao
ment. It was in a deep hollow, through which ran a
stream of water.
ceeded to take a survey of the camp. There were five of |
the Indians in all, four of whom were stationed around
the camp-fire eating supper, while the fifth was acting |
as sentinel, in a small copse of wood not far from the
edge of the gully, and directly in the trail which led to

the camp. The trappers then drew back into the woods

to hold.a consultation.

“Jest five o the imps, Joe, “and we mus’

Said Bil

lift the hull o’ thar ha’r ter- night, to make the thing 4
But fust O° all that derned sent'nel mus’ ,

square, d’ye See.
be put out o’ the way.’
“Never mind, Bill, Pll settle that feller’s hash. to- mek,

blast him, or my name ain't Joe Harland,” muttered Joe j

The trappers now waited till nightfall ‘had fully come,

~ and then, leaving the cover of the woods, crept, silently |
along the bank of the gully until they were neatly Oppo- |

site the camp, when, telling Bill to stay where he was till §

-he came back, Joe silently arose to his feet, and struek |

out, so as to gain the rear of the little copse of trees, atl
the edge of which stood the sentinel.

He reached the edge of the woods unperceived, ae
then, throwing himself upon the ground, crept caret
forward until only a few feet intervened between himself
and the savage.

Arising to his feet, behind a large tree, he paused a a.
moment, “and then moved forward. The wary Indian
himself could not have been more cautious.
steps, and he was close behind him. At that moment, as
if instinctively, the Indian turned around. But he never

caught a glimpse of his foe; for at that moment the trap- —

pers’ fingers clasped his throat like a vise, and the glit-
tering knife sank to the hilt in his body. Not a cry es-
caped him; a gurgling noise in his throat was all, and, as
the trapper released his hold, he dropped to the eround,
Wiping his knife upon his fallen foe, the
trapper moved quietly backward to Bill. Having told |
him of his success, they decided to creep to the edge of.

“the gully, shoot two of the savages as they lay, and then

spring down the path and make battle with the Orne
two.

‘The trappers halted here, and pro- :

N

A few more .

- Quietly creeping to the edge of the hollow, they, lev- { :

eled their rifles, and fired. Two of the Indians fell back,
one shot through the heart, the other through the brain.

Then, dashing down the path, they met the other two }
with clubbed rifles, and they were soon despatched. Then
yeame the disgusting work of scalping them, after which

they threw some wood on the fire and prepared to 7
the remainder of the night.

In the morning the trappers arose, and, ne collect-
ing the guns and hatchets of their fallen foes, started back —
for the settlement, which they reached in due time, and,
after selling the guns to the settlers, started out to their
cabin in the woods.
were at length killed by the Indians, while conducting an
emigrant-party across the prairie.
ance the trappers of the West dealt out to the savages —
that molested‘ them, and a terrible vengeance it was.

Here they. both lived for years, but ©

Such was the ve

 
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BUFFALO BILL STORIES '

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

BEAUTIFUL COLORED oes !

 

Buffalo Bill wins his way into the heart of every.
one who reads the strong stories of stirring adventure or.
the wide prairies of the West published in this weekly.

Boys, if you. want tales of the West that are
drawn true to life, do not pass these by. :

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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 LATEST TITLES:

. 311—Buffalo Bill’s Fight for Life; or, Caught in the
Cave of Lions.

312—Busfalo Bill’s Death Jump; or, The Ogallalas’ Last
Stand.

313—Buffalo Bill and the Pit of Horror; or, The White
Queen of Paradise Valley.

314—Buffalo Bill in the Jaws of Death; or, The Strange
Sacrifice of Uncapah.

315—Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Runners; or, The Hate of the

Gilded Mexican.

316—Buffalo Bill’s Dance with Death; or, Peril on the
Golconda Gold Trail.

317—Buffalo: Bill’s Redskin Rovers; or, Old
Nomad’s Wolf Trick.

318—Buffalo Bill’s Fiery Eye;
Last Battle.

319—Buffalo Bill’s Mazeppa Ride; or, The Robber
League of the Panhandle.

320—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Spirits; or, The Witch
Hunters of the Hoodoo Mountains.

Nick
or, Red Thunderbolt’s

321—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band; or, The. Queen of the

Road Wanderers.

322—Buffalo Bill’s Maverick; or, The Man with the Steel
Arm.

323—Buftalo Bill, the White Whirlwind: or, Dashing
Dan, the Border Decoy Duck.

324—Buffalo Bill’s Gold Hunters; or, the Clan of the
Skull and Cross-bones.

325—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico; or, The Red Priests

of Zataclin.

326—Buffalo Bill’s Message From the Dead; or, The
Mystery of the Dagger of Gold.

 

327—Buffalo Bill and the Wolf-master:; ; or, The Will
Dogs of the Hills. °
328—Buffalo Bill’s Flying Wonder; or, Zamba, the King

of Fire.

329—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold; or, The Ruse of the Oo ae

Red Serpent.

330—Butffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail; or, The Mystery of a
Teton Basin.

331—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen; or, The Gho'

..  Flower’s Mission.

332—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder;
For a Foe.

333—Buffalo Bill’s Ice Barricade; or, The Red an
White Renegades of Powder River.

334—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Elk; or, The Mall
Seekers of the Range.

335—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance; or, The Thrall of the
Lightning That Strikes.

or, A Kin

336—Buffalo Bill’s Peace ee or, The Casket of My:-

tery.

| 337—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis: or, The White Canty

of the Sioux.

338—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa; or, The Lost Prin
cess of the Moquis. Pie

339—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death; or, Th» -
Secret of the Jasper Joss.

340—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak; or, A Box Full ce!
Trouble for the ’Paches.

341— Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty; or, The Break oti
the Bad Ax Trail. :

342—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery; or, The Ropeand
Catamount Puzzle.

If you want any back numbers of this publication and cannot procure them from your news

dealer, they can be obtained from this office direct.

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STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79 Seventh Avenue, NEW YORK CITY.