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| BUFFALO BILL'S PROTEGE

 

‘A WEEKLY PUBLICATION:

 

       

 

 

“DEVOTED TO BORDER

 

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year.

Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. V. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., Ni.

Entered according to Act of Congress tn the year 1908, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

 

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

over the world as the king of scouts.

 

Wo. 360.

NEW YORK, April 4, 1908.

Price Five Cents.

 

OR,

FOILING A NIHILIST PLOT.

)

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER I.
A BEAR’S DEN—-WITH SOMETHING IN IT.
“Py shinks! Dot’s a funny-looking shtump.”

Villum von Schnitzenhouser, otherwise known as “the
baron,’ pushed back his little fore-and-ait cap, and

‘brushed the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of

his coat.

He was looking at a big, white-oak stump, ten feet

high, and more than three feet through. The outside

of the stump was scratched and clawed from base to top.
_ Leaning his Winchester “express” against a neighbor-

ing tree, the baron walked entirely around the stump, ex-.

amining it with curious eyes.

On every side the stump was covered with the
scratches. : ae :

“I bed you someding for nodding,” continued the
baron, conversing With himself once more, “dot dere iss
a bear in dot shtump. I vish to gootness I could look
indo der plame ding. I hate more as I can dell to rite
pack py der camp midoudt some game.’ Puffalo Pill,
und Nomat, und Alec vould gif me der laugh; aber oof I

‘go pack mit a bear, you bed you I vould do’some laugh-

ing meinseluf. Vat’s dot?”

‘
'

There was a small hole through the stump, next to the
ground, large enough for the baron to thrust in his hand
and arm. He bent down to do this, and then changed his
mind, a

“Off dere iss a bear in dot shtump,” he reasoned, “I
vould go pack py der camp midoudt a hant und arm,
meppy. No, py shinks, I vill nod invesdigate dot vay. I

efer iss insite.”

He started for the gun, and then changed his mind
again. His horse stood near-by with a riata secured to
the saddle.

The baron went to the horse and got the rope. Re-
turning to the stump, he made an upward cast with the
noose and dropped it over a splinter on the upper rim.
It was a good-sized splinter, and strong enough to bear
the Baron's weight 0 a

“TDot’s vat I call head-vork,” he jubilated. “Now 1
vill climb der rope und look indo der shtump.”

The baron moistened his hands and grabbed the riata.
It was a hard struggle, and sometimes he would climb

a foot only to slip down two feet. The side of the stump

was so worn that his boot-soles slipped off it as though

they were greased.

But the baron persisted, and he finally was able to get

a
A

_ vill poke in der muzzle oof der gun und shdir oop vat-  *

 
  

2 THE BUFFALO

a grip on the upper edge of the stump and to haul him-
self over, balancing himself on his ample stomach,

By that time he was puffing like a grampus. After a
minute or two, spent in gettitg back his wind, he pro-
ceeded to make his investigations.

A little light entered the interior through the small
hole near the bottom of the stump, but it was not suffi-
cient to enable him to see anything.

The baron’s position on the ragged edge was uncom-
fortable. If he could sit up he thought he would feel
better.

Changing his position was a delicate operation. The

opening in the stump yawned like a hole leading to the -

infernal regions, and the edge was ragged and sharp.

Disaster came to the baron, and it came so quickly as
to take what little breath he had left.

Losing his balance, he fell inward. He made one fu-
tile clutch at the edge of the stump, scratched his hands,
and plunged downward like a cannon-ball.

He landed with a tremendous jolt, and for two or
three minutes said his prayers forward, backward, and
sideways. Was there a bear in there with him? Ugh!
The very thought made him groan and close his eyes.

After his first panic had worn off a little, he began
to use his brain. Certainly, the bottom of that old stump
wasn't big enough for himself and a bear. If there had
been a ‘‘varmint”’ in the stump, the baron would have
landed on him.

The baron had something under his back, but it wasn’t’

a bear. It was round and hard, and its pressure against
the baron’s spinal-column was decidedly uncomfortable.

Drawing a long breath of relief, he sat up and felt be- -

hind him. The object was cold to: his touch, and there
appeared to be a string tied to it.

He had matches in his humwting-coat, and he lighted
one on the sole of his boot.

The object he held was about as big as a coconut;
‘ and the string was not tied around it, but went directly
into the iron: shell. ra

“Dot’s keveer!’’ muttered the baron. ‘“Howefer dit id
ed indo der shtump?” |

The match showed him three more of the peculiar ob-
ects, but they lay closer to the small hole in the bottom
£ the stump than had the first one.

“LU roll dis vone oudt, und4ook him'ofer ven I ged
iudt.meinseluf,” thought the baron.

Thereupon he pushed the object through the small
iole, and got upon his feet.

Then another obstacle confronted him. How. was he
Zoing to'get over the top edge of the stump?

He could look aloft and see the bight of the riata
around the splinter, but the rope itself was hanging out-

side, and, so far as it could be of service to him, might’as |

well have been a thousand miles away.

Then, too, the interior of the stump was as smooth
as.was the outside.

The baron brushed his sleeve across his dripping fore-
head again. .

Could he make that hole in the bottom of the stump
any larger? He had only his -hunting-knife to work
with, and he knew. the task was impossible, -

For a brief period-he was in a horrible quandary. -

Would he have to remain in that stump until he perished
miserably for lack of food and water?) 3
The camp was a good five miles away, and he could

BILL STORIES.”

have yelled until he was black in the face without ma-

king any one hear. ce

In the midst of his despair the baron had an idea. He
had heard of people working out of circular holes by
putting their knees agairist one side and their back
against the other, thus wedging themselves so. they
couldn’t slip.

The interior of that stump was pretty wide, but the
baron also was pretty thick. Anyhow, that was his only
chance for getting out, and he made the most of it.
Three times he tried for a start, but the stretch for his
knees and back was too wide. The fourth time he used
his feet instead of his knees, and managed to wedge him-
self against the slippery sides.

Inch by inch he worked his way up, and at last suc-
ceeded in catching hold of the upper edge. Just as he
had pulled his face to the level of the rim, he found him-
self gazing into the eyes of a bear, who had evidently
been climbing the outside of the stump while the baron
was climbing the inside. iia

It would have been hard to tell which was the more
scared, the baron or the bear. . |

The baron gave a yell, and the bear let off a grunt.

Then both let go, the baron traveling back down the in-
side, and the bear sliding down the outside.
The baron mopped his face—with both: sleeves this
time. y
“Himmelblitzen!” he groaned, “I been a gone Dutch-
man, you bed you! Dot feller vill come in on me, oof
I can’t ged oudt pefore. 1 vill try again. Py shiminy
grickets, dot’s all vat I can do.”

The baron went about his next attempt like a house
afire. If he had to have a fight with the bear, it would
be better to have it outside, where he had some chance,
rather than inside, where he had. none at all.

In fear of his life, he shot up the stump with a celerity
which, under other circumstances, would have amazed
him, But now all he could think of was his chance for
dodging the bear. CUNT ag

Pulling himself over the edge, he balanced himself in
that position and looked down... _- Sa a

The beast was sitting upon the ground, its fore-paws
against the tree and its head turned upward. The bear
growled and reached upward with its paws.

. The baron growled back, and shook his fist.

“You don’d make.no Dutch meal oudt cof me,’. he
cried. “I vill shday righdt here ondil der cows come
home.” ee a ar a

The bear began edging around the bottom of the
stump, standing like a man and patting with its front
paws. The bear was a big one, and the paws came so
close to the baron that he. started to say his prayers
again, « ous :

The animal had recovered from its surprise. Instead
of playing a waiting-game, it began hugging the stump
and making its way upward. Its climbing, however, was
on the side opposite the rope; so, while the bear was
struggling to the top in the hope of catching the baron,
the baron was sliding down the rope.

When half-way down, the-splinter to which the rope
was attached yielded suddenly to the weight which
hung from it, precipitating the baron for some five feet
to the base of the stump. _ Oa .

Of itself, the fall was trifling; but there was a steep
slope stretching from the bottom of the stump.and lead-
ing into a “draw.”. The baron, still hanging tothe rope,

 

 

   
  
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 

Fee eee CD

<= Dd

  
 

did then.

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

went heels over head down the descent, and sat up, dazed
and bewildered, at the bottom. ~~
The bear, taking in the situation from the top of the

stump, slid back to the ground, and likewise started
into the “draw,” pointing directly for the baron..

The baron’s, Winchester was at the top of the bank,

but his horse was at the bottom, and he made for that.

Never in his life had he made a quicker mount than he
He lit in the saddle like a thousand of brick,
whirled the horse, and made for the mouth of the ‘‘draw.”

It’s astonishing how fast a bear can run when he
makes up his mind to it. The baron, however, was feel-
ing tolerably comfortable, for the bear’s legs were no

" match for the horse’s.

Then, with his feeling of security, the baron’s rage be-
gan to mount. Such a lot of foolishness for one bear!
Tying the end of his riata to the saddle-horn, he turned
his horse to an about face, and swung the riata.

As the bear came plunging on, he let the noose
fly. Now, the baron was not much of a hand with a rope,
but as luck—or ill luck—would have it, the noose flew
fair and settled about the bear’s head.

With a wild yell and a quick use of his heels, the
baron sent his horse back up the “draw,” passing within
three feet of the bear, and giving it the jolt of its life

h when the slack of the rope had been taken up.

The. bear went over on its back, scrambled up with a
gurgle, and went to pawing at the mysterious thing about
its neck.

The baron sat back in his saddle, and his loud “haw-
haws’’ went bounding up and down the “draw.” A cin-
namon bear’s temper is never very sweet, and by that
time this particular- one’s was fairly boiling. With a
half-strangled snarl, it once more started for the baron.

The baron galloped on again, and the bear came right
along at the end of the rope. The brute was running
faster now than it had before. Occasionally the pull of
the rope helped it on, lifting it over a rock or a logvat a
flying leap.

The baron had not traveled more than a mile before
the fun had died out of the situation. He reached for
his knife to cut the rope, but made the awful discovery
that the knife was gone from its sheath—having dropped
out, probably, when he took his header down the bank
of the “draw.”

Then he tried to untie the rope from the saddle-horn,
but the strain on it at the time he had snagged the bear.
had drawn the knot so hard he could not release it.

Getting clear of the “draw,” he headed for camp like
a Dutch comet with a living tail, yelling for help with
every jump of his horse. ~

After five minutes of this, the horse swerved, the trail-
ing rope cut across the top of the saddle, and the baron
was swept off the horse’s back and went caroming along
the ground. The bear tried. to stop and give some atten-
tion to the baron, but the horse went right ahead, and
the rope kept the bear going.

The baron sat up on the ground and watched the horse
and the bear disappear. .

 

CHAPTER II,
THE VANISHING BOMBS.

“Donnervetter !” exclaimed the baron dazedly. “I von-
der vat’s going to habben now? Der bear is hitched py
:

BILL STORIES. oo ae

der horse, und vone can’t ged avay from der odder.
How long vill der horse keep avay from der bear? Und
how long vill der bear keep oop der pace oof der horse?
Vell, I’m glad I vas oudt oof der mix-oop, anyvay. Id
vas some derriple cholts vat I got, aber-——”

A far-away bang, from the direction taken by the horse

sand the’ bear, reached the baron’s ears.

__Vat’s dot?” muttered the baron, struggling erect and
picking up his cap. “Somepody iss shooding. I vill go
und findt oudt vat id means.”

The baron started as fast as his pipe-stem legs could
carry him. He had not traveled far before he met Buf-
falo Bill, riding in his direction at a gallop, and leading
his horse.

A look of relief crossed the scout’s face at sight of
the German.

“Great Scott, baron!” he cried, drawing quick rein,
“what have you been doing?”

“Vell, Puffalo Pill,’ answered the baron, rubbing him-
self gingerly, “I haf peen drown aroundt vorse as a ball
in some bowling-alleys. Yah, so. Many dings haf gone
wrong mit me. Say, vonce. Vas dere a bear hitched
py dot horse ven you foundt him?”

“Yes. I couldn’t understand how you hitched a bear
to your horse, and then got out of the saddle yourself.”

A smile twitched at the scout’s lips. He was begin-
ning to scent the comedy back of the baron’s plight. -

The baron worked his arms gently, and then stood on
one foot, like a sand-hill crane, and kicked out with the
other.

“You see, Puffalo Pill,” he explained, “I findt me a
vite-oak shtump, so big aroundt alretty”’—he stretched
out his arms—“und higher by dree times den vat I peen
meinseluf. Id looks like vone of dose bear-dens, und I
climb oop my riata to see vat I can findt oudt. Den, py
shiminy, I fall indo dot shtump; und ven I dry to ged
oudt, I meet der bear coming in. I don’t like-dot. Oof
der bear comes down indo dot shtump mit me he vould
haf wiener-wurst for supper, so I try, like Mr. Sam Hill,
to ged avay pefore he comes in. Der riata preaks avay
mit me, und I roll down some banks into some gullies,
vere my horse iss. Der bear comes running so kevick
as I can’t dell, und I make bee-lines for dot horse. Mep-
py I didn’t hit der preeze, oh, meppy! Vell, ven I vas
on der horse I vas safe, only I dook der fool notion dot
I vould rope der bear mit mine extra riata. Pooty soon,
pympy, I had der bear; und den, pooty soon again, der
bear had me. J had to run to keep. avay; und all der vile
vat.J run, der bear vas keeping righdt oop-mit me.”

The baron heaved a long breath and looked gloomy.

“Dere vas times, Puffalo Pill,’ he went on, in a pensive
tone, “ven der sky iss overcast mit plack clouds, und
life don’t vas vort’ der lifing. Id vas dot vay mit Villum
von Schnitzenhouser. Den, pefore I could know vat
vas habbening, der rope vas pulled across der sattle, und
I vas drown der ground on mit a cholt vat made me see
liddle sthars, und gomets, und odder brighdt dings, aber
I vas safed—yah, py shinks, I vas safed. You killed dot
bear ?”’ ,

The scout had to turn away his head to hide his smile.
The baron was tremendouslv sensitive.

“Ves,” replied the scout, looking around with a straight
face, “I shot the bear. We'll have bear-meat for sup-
per, and there’s a fine bearskin which Alec will be glad
to buy from you for fifty dollars. Our Russian friend
is hungry for bearskins. But where’s your rifle?’

 
 

i ‘ ' THE BUFFALO

“Dot V inchester is pack py oy shtump. Und my

‘knife iss somevere on der pank oof der gully.”

‘We'd better go back and get them, baron. Climb—
onto your horse and lead the way.”

The baron rose lamely to his saddle.

“Vat luck did Alec haf in der hunt: to-day, f uffalo

Pill?” inquired the German as they rode along.

“He and Nick brought in a couple of antelope- -bucks.
Alec got one, and Nick bagged the other.”

“T feel all proke oop mit meinseluf pecause I didn’t ged
dot bear,’ eee the baron ruefully: “Und den Alec
und Nick vill gif me der laugh, I bed you.”

“No, they won't, baron. We won't say a word about
that stump. It’s your bear, and you can ride in with it.”

Joy glowed in the baron’s face,

“You been der best bard vat a Daten efer hat!”
he. cried; “‘dot’s -righdt. Alec. dinks [ don’t vas’ some
goot, anyvay. You bed you I oben his eyes mit dot bear.
Dot’s der shtump,” the baron added, riding around the
bole of the white oak, “und dere

The words died on his lips, and he cast an astoundel
glance at the scout.

“What’s the matter now ?”

“Vy,” returned the baron,
I leaned him against dot tree,
How couldt dot rifle ged avay?”

“You-are sure you “leatied the rifle against the tree?”

“So sure as I know dot I’m \alife!”

“That’s strange! If you left the rifle there, then it
ought to be there now.”

They both dismounted and looked over the ground.

“Dot beats der tickens!” murmured the bewildered
baron, running his fingers through his hair, “I vonder
oof my knife iss gone, doo?”

They proceeded to the slope leading down into the
“draw” and hunted for the knife; but, like the Win-
chester, it also had disappeared,

“Somepody has peen here, Puffalo Pill,” averred the
baron. ‘Who id vas, anyvay? Iss dere any odder hun-
ders in dis neck oof der voods?”

“I haven’t heard of any,” answered the scout, ‘Some
Crows from the Reservation may have happened. along.
They'd be quite apt to pick up anything that wasn’t nailed
down.”

“I vonder oof dey took dot cannon-pall mit der shtring
to it?” Haine the baron, with sudden thought. .

“What's that?’ returned the scout, immediately inter-
ested.

“I foundt some in der pottom oof der shtump, und |
rolled vone oudt to, look him ofer ven I got time.”

“A: cannon-ball with a string to it!’ mused the scout,
perplexed, —

‘Der shtring vent indo der pall,’ went on the baron.

“Into the ball! How big around was the ball?”

“Vell, aboudt so big as some coconuts.”

“Were they.of iron?

“Yah, only nod solid, I bed you.
enough for dot.”

Well,” said the scout, with a grave face,
one you rolled out from inside the tree.”

The baron led him i the small hole in the stump, but
the “cannon-ball with a string to it” was not to be found.

“Dere vas more inside der tree, close py der hole,”
the baron.

» . “See if you can pull one of them out,”
* falo Bill

 

asked Buffalo Bill.
“der Vinchester iss gone!
und he don’d vas dere.

“‘let’s see the

said

returned Buf-

Dey vasn’t heafy”

BILL STORIES.

The baron tried, butt beaten acne in vain, Those
inside the stump, as well.as the one he had rolled outside,
had likewise mysteriously vanished.

‘The scout examined the surface ” the ground,: but it
offered no evidence. .

Leaning against the stump, the scout passed one hand
thoughtfully over his forehead.

“Baron,” said he at last, ‘you have made an important
discovery—a discovery that may mean much to that
protege of mine.’ |

“Alec?” queried the baron.

The scout nodded

“Unless I’m. far’ wide of my tonite a said he,
things you found were infernal- machines.”

“Infernal-machines? | don’d know dot.”

“Bombs! muttered the scout, giving the baron a Sigs
nificant look; “the kind of bombs a Russian nihiflist uses
when he wants to get rid of a nobleman, or some one in
authority.’

“Who iss dere aroundt here dot a nihilist vants to clean
oudt?”

“Tl tell you something you don’t know, baron, and
you must keep it under your hat. The real name of the
man you call ‘Alec’ is Alexis, “During this hunt of ours
he is under my care. The nihilists are after him—some
of them have followed him from St. Petersburg. They
are trying to wipe out Alexis, and you, and Nomad, and
I have got to keep them from. doing it. Jump your horse
and we'll make a run back to camp.”

The astounded baron regained his saddle, and followed
the rapid pace set by the scout.

“those

CHAPTER IIL.
A DISPUTE,

Nick Nomad had sent the Russian, Alec, back to camp
with the two horses and two antelope-bucks, while he
himself continued following and skirmishing to leeward
of a buck and two does.

The Russian had had a good afternoon’s sport, but two
weeks on Clark’s Fork had not yet hardened his muscles
to the old trapper’s endurance. He was willing enough
to “knock off” and let Nomad keep on after the rest of
the antelope,

Alec’s pet gun was a Creedmore rifle, fitted with Ve-
nier sight, wind-sage, and spirit-level. . Buffalo Bill had
removed these, and replaced them with a Beach combina-
tion front- sight and Lyman rear-sight, Besides these,
there was the ordinary open step- -sight attached to the
barrel, just in front of the action. Yet, in spite of the
scout’s tinkering, the Creedmore, for antelope- hunting,
was but a second-rate apology for a Winchester “‘ex-
press,” fitted with the same sights,

Nomad, for the afternoon, “had let the ian take :
his Winchester, while he had used the Creedmore. When
he and Alec had separated, the rifles had not been ex-
changed, so that Nomad found himself dodging around
through ravines with the Russian’s gun. |

After an hour's laborious work, he glimpsed three
black dots on a distant slope; as he worked closer, the
black resolved itself into gray, with white patches.

Nick set up his front and rear- sights after pe hins 2

  

 
a

See set

 

. trigger.

4 Bs
1 Ei.

a the buck, and to the left.

‘they run, instinct taught th:
rectly into the danger rathes

plete . somersault,
rushed away like lightning. ! (

THE BUFFALO

distance that he judged as 800 yards. The wind, rather
brisk and from the left, led him to believe he would have

' to hold off by about two feet.

The old man laid flat down on the ground, resting on

! i his elbows and holding his rifle steady. The buck stood
6 to the right.

“He’s my meat!’ muttered the trapper, and pulled

Then he said things to himself, ay about the Rus-
_sian’s gun.

A spurt of dust had shot fate the air, 50 yards ‘short
Nomad had underestimated
the distance and the force of the wind.

All three of the antelope made a few quick jumps. But
Nomad had not been seen, and the alarm of the animals
did not last.

The cross wind and the
lope from discovering wher

prevented the ante-

iort came from; had

they might run di-
“yay from it.

Making an elevation of point, and holding

farther to the right, Nomad pbiazeu away once more,

On the heels of the report there followed another from

a swale to the northward.

The buck jumped into the air, turned almost a com-
and dropped in a heap. The does

Nomad had heard the other ae and it puzzled him.
Nevertheless, he jumped up and hurried to cover the
stretch of ground that separated him from the buck.

From the northward another man was making for the |

»

‘same place.
At the time Nomad had fired, he had seen a cloud of
ust arise beyond the antelope, but he was confident that
hit was his own bullet that had killed the animal, and that
he dust had been kicked up by the bullet launched from
‘the northward.
The other man, however, was closer, and beached the
buck first, When Nomad came up, the fellow was busy
ith his skinning-knife.

_The man was big, and his face was covered ae a mat
‘of grizzled beard. His buckskin clothes were greasy from
ears of constant use—so greasy and stiff that if their
owner had taken them off, he could probably have leaned

the suit against a tree, like a suit of armor.

Ao Mere makin, blame’ free. with thet varmint 0’ mine,’
‘said Nick.

“Was it you as fired that ’ere shot from the south: "
‘scowled the other, looking up from his work, :

“Waal, I reckon.”

“That was ther shot as plowed up the ground acrost
‘the critter’s back, Better arn ter shoot afore ve come
claimin’ game ye didn’t hit.”
_ There was a sneer in the stranger’s voice, and the old
trapper jumped as though from a hot branding-iton.

Hf Say, you onnery thief,” he cried, advancing resolute-
y. lve shot more) animiles than you ever seen, an’ ye
kain't bluff me out 0’ my rights. Back erway, thar!
Et ain’t healthy ter say No ter me.
_ The stranger had a Sharp rifle, and two Colts rested.
in his belt. The Sharp lay on the ground, a little way
off. Flinging down the knife, he planted himself astride
the buck, and pulled his revolvers.

“If ye think the buck belongs ter you,” he taunted, an

29

fresh cartridge into the Creedmore,

BILL STORIES. 5
evil light darting from his small black eyes,
take it.”

“Which same,” retorted the trapper. coolly, jamming a
“is ther very thing

“come an’

I’m goin’ ter do.”

Nomad held the rifle at his hip, finger on the trigger.
The muzzle was on a line with the stranger’s huge bulk.
The twitch of a muscle would have sent a charge clean
through the man.

“Raise thet rifle an’ Vl
stranger wrathfully.

“Don’t hey ter raise et, ” snorted Nomad.

er move ter lift sone 9) them hands,
off o? yer shoulders.’”’

Nomad had the ‘‘drop.” He realized it, and the
stranger realized it; yet, nevertheless, the stranger wore
a defiant and. mocking grin, even while his hands and his
revolvers dangled at his sides,

“Back away, you!” ordered the old trapper savagely.

“Not if I knows it!” answered the ey ‘Look
behind ye.”

VA nike) Van as easy as all thet P snapped Nomad. gl
turn ter look, an’ ye haul off with them thar pepper-
boxes. Try somethin’ else thet kain’t match yer crop o’
whiskers. Aire ye goin’ ter git off o’ my meat? Tl
count three, an’ ef ye don’t hike by then, that’ll shore
be somethin’ doin’, One!”

The stranger still stood his ground, and continued to
grin,

eae:

As this word snapped out, a metallic click sounded
from behind the old trapper. A tense movement ran
through his lithe nods but still he did not turn his head.

“Tf you say tree7) te

riddle ye!” growled the

“Ef ye make
Vil blow ther head

came a voice from the rear, “zen

(ze moment w/at you say it I shoot, too.”

Old Nomad turned sidewise, and backed off for about
a dozen feet. From this fresh position he was. able to

-keep watch of the thieving stranger, and also make note

of the unforeseen danger. that was threatening him.
Another man with bushy hair and beard, and many

' earmarks of a foreigner, was kneeling on the ground,

A rifle was at his shoulder, and its muzzle swerved to
follow the old trapper’s movements.

Back of this second man were three Crow Indians, all
armed with rifles.

“What d’ye think o7 thet?” tensa the scoundrel,

who had been skinning the buck. “Whenever ye’re ready
ter open yer gun- play, T reckon thar’ll be several more
ter take sides.”

vere a pack 0 ’ thievin’ whelps,” said Nomad, “thet’s
what I think 0’. ye; an’ I tell ye further thet ye won't
make nothin’ out o’ no sich tin-horn play as ye’re puttin’
up. Ub be even. Savvy. thet 27

Both white men let loose insolent and taunting laughs.
Nomad shouldered his Creedmore, turned his back, and
made for the swale to the northward.

The sun was getting down, butthe had no intention of
setting his face ‘toward camp.

He was fairly boiling, and before he ined Buffalo
Bill and Alec he would ‘find out something more about
this outfit of whites and reds.

Crossing the rim of the swale, he dropped down out
of sight be the men. behind, then turned, crept up the
bank, and roe over it.

(

 
  

 

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CHAPTER IV.
NOMAD MAKES SOME DISCOVERIES.

The old trapper had been considerably surprised to
find this gang of hunters in that part of the country. He
and the scout had supposed that they were the only ones
in that region.

Nomad’s wrath, for the moment, had got the better of
his surprise; but now, as his wrath subsided somewhat,
his curiosity had an inning. e

If ever Nomad had seen’a border ruffian, then the ill-
omened rascal who had stolen the buckle was one. Nor
did the foreigner look at all respectable. As for the
Crows, they could always be counted in on any under-
hand work, provided their services were well paid for.

What particular business had called that outfit to that

4

part of the country? Not hunting alone, Nomad was

sure.

He watched while the buck was made ready for trans-
portation. As the white ruffan worked with his skin-
ning-knife, the foreigner stood near and talked and ges-
tured volubly, making frequent motions in the direction
taken by Nick when he had walked away.

After a time the Indians scurried off and returned with
horses. The buck was thrown across one of the horses,
the party mounted, and then all rode leisurely off.

Their course carried them northeast. Nomad dropped
down into the swale and started east, under the screen of
its banks.

Presently he reached a point where he heard the party
- coming, and dropped behind a rock. The horsemen rode
into the swale and continued along it.

Nomad cautiously followed, taking pains to keep him-
self out of view. .

The swale opened upon a flat which ran back to the
foot ofa mountain. The flat was covered with pine-

trees, Which afforded the trapper ample conveniences for’

keeping himself in the background. — Soft-footed as a
puma, he dodged from tree to tree, coming so close to
the slow-moving horsemen at .times that he was able to
hear the low drone of their voices. ~~

Across the flat, directly opposite the opening from the
swale, was the mouth of a narrow, rocky defile.

The sides of the defile were covered with bushes and
a stunted growth of timber., Into this gash the white
and red horsemen made their way; straggling out into
single file in order to force their passage.

The undergrowth quickly hid them from the old trap-
per’s eyes.

“Gad-hook them varmints!” muttered Nomad. ‘They
must be playin’ some sort of er low-down game, er
they wouldn’t be hidin’. themselves away in er place like
thet. I'll lope erlong on their trail an’, git next ter all [
kin. Et may come handy.”

Carefully he pushed into the defile. The crooks and

turns were devious, and for some little distance the gash

* seemed to grow narrower. Then, abruptly, he came to
a turn, beyond which"the bushy walls opened out and
gave him a view of a camp-fire, a wickiup, and two or
three trees.

_ The sun was down by that time, and thick shadows
were stealing through the cut. Nomad knelt behind a
clump of box elders, and fixed his gaze on the scene be-
fore him. :

One of the Crows was taking care of the horses, a

THE BUFFALO

BILL STORIES.

~ second was hanging the flayed buck to the limb of one

of the trees, and the third was rustling fuel for the fire,

The white men stood apart, the foreigner. showing his
comrade a heap of round objects, and tossing his arms
and talking excitedly. toe

These round objects reflected the firelight from their
polished surfaces. There were not many of the objects
in the heap, and they were piled at a goodly distance
from the fire.

While the foreigner talked, he picked up one of the
round, glimmering things, and held it out toward the

other man. i ee

The latter individual was smoking a pipe. He tried to
take the small sphere, but the foreigner lifted a dangling
string, and then pointed to the glowing bowl of the pipe,
at the same time shakin~ hic head. ee i

The sphere was ha. 2 gerly, and laid back on the
others, as though it | . made of glass. |

“Waugh!” grunte: <. “Them ole hardshells
hev got er lot 0’ bom!) «hy hev they toted a passel
of infernal-machines .(§ hyar peaceful kentry? |
Not fer no good, an ye kin spread yer blankets an’ go |
ter sleep on thet. Thar’s a crack o° doom in store fer
somebody, but who? Ef 1 knows ther brand, this out-
fit’s a pack o’ card-sharps, hoss-lifters, an’ cutthroats, be-
sides bein’ game-thieves. What’s ther rip now, I won-
der?”

When Nomad put the last question to himself, the two
white men had turned from the pile of bombs and gone
into the teepee. The Crow had finished slinging up the
buck, and, with his red comrades, had vanished tempo-
rarily from the vicinity of the camp-fire. oo

The fire, leaping high, struck sparklingly ‘on the little
pile of bombs. Nomad’s speculative eye ranged from the
bomb-pile to the swinging form of the buck—/us buck,
and the one on which this outfit of thieves meditated ma-
king their supper. ee

He listened intently. The Crows were out of ear-shot
in the brush, and from the teepee came sounds of con-
versation between the two white ruffians. —

An idea dafted through the old trapper’s mind, The
idea promised revenge, and appealed to him mightily.
That it was risky, likewise appealed to the doughty old
frontiersman, for he liked nothing better than an au-
dacious coup, fraught with peril.

Starting out of his concealment, he made a bold,
noiseless dash for the. pile. of bombs. The Creedmore he |
left in the bushes, not caring to impede his movements
by carrying the rifle. a :

Stooping quickly, he picked up one of the bombs. The
next moment he had struck a match, and applied it to the
fuse. pe

While he stood there, holding the sphere of death and
watching. the little blaze dance toward the imprisoned
cap and dynamite, the two white men emerged from the
teepee.

They were literally dumfounded at the sight of the
old trapper. For the space of two labored breaths,
neither of the ruffians said a word. Then, when they
recognized Nomad as the: hunter who had been defrauded
of the slain buck, the hands of each leaped to their waist-
g Their belts and small arms, however, had been laid
aside. oe

“Drap that!’ howled the American scoundrel.

“Sapristif’” whooped the other, “don’t t’row ze bomb!
We will all be keel in ze—ze augenblick.’

set

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THE BUFFALO

“Ther onnery way you tin-horns act jest fairly makes
y fur bristle,’ growled Nomad. “I kin wipe ye off’n
er face o’ ther airth with this hyar thing. From all
ve seen 0’ ye, | reckon ye won’t be missed none.”

Nomad kept one eye on the blaze of death, and the
other on the two desperados. The American made as
ough he would duck back into the teepee.

“Stand right whar ye aire!” thundered ad
“Down on yer knees, ye whelps! Down on yer knees

’ say yer pra’rs!”

The foreigner crumpled to earth, shaking in body and
imb. His terror was abject. He tried to yell for the
Indians, but his lips moved without giving forth any
sound. His matted beard wagged in a hopeless, despair-
ng way that struck Old Nomad as particularly ludi-
crous. .

The trapper laughed. 4

“A fine brace er pizen trouble-makers you aire!” he
shouted.
selves!”

The other scoundrel, although Sieur with panic, had
“more éf the bravado i in his makeup.
| “Hold that ’ere bomb long enough,’ he yelped, ‘

4 re the one as’ll be blowed off the face o’ the ae >

_“Hyar’s whar I let ’er fly,” cried Nomad, swinging. back

Apparently his aim was directly toward the two scoun-
drels. The American let off a yell and began to run;
he other flung himself face pois on the ground and
writhed and gurgled. |
_ Nomad roared with mirth and let the bomb go straight
at the swinging buck. Without pausing for the explo-
sion, he bent and began like lightning to throw the other
yombs into the fire.

_ All this happened in much less time than it takes to tell
t. As Nomad whirled about and ran like a deer for the
jushes, there came an explosion that made mincemeat
f the buck antelope. fi
This was followed by other detonations that fairly
made the. ground tremble, and lit up the defile luridly.
The hiatus between the sodden roars was filled in by In-
an yells, for the Crows had begun ere ie the

Genes)
Nomad gathered in his Creedmore and iueehed at top
eed for the deeper blackness of the gash. He was half-
y back to the flat when he collided’ with the American
uffan.
“I'll dig out yer heart fer that!” hissed the scoundrel,
nching with the trapper.
“Spell able fust, ye varmint!” snorted Nomad, drop-
ng the Creedmore and giving his entire attention to
antagonist.

Tt was dark, so dark the trapper could hardly see the

an who had attacked him; yet he gathered intuitively
hat the scoundrel had a knife, even though the rest of
arms had been left in the teepee.

Nomad got a grip on the fellow’s right arm, and slid
hand along to the wrist. There the trapper’s fingers
losed in a crushing grip that wrenched a groan from
is antagonist’s lips and caused his hold to relax on the
ife.
Down went the struggling pair, Nemad on top, still
ipping the wrist and throttling the scoundrel with his
ther hand.
oA. minute sufficed to choke all the fight out of the

“Afeared o? these hyar pee ye made yer-.

BILL STORIES. oe 7

game-thief, wad he lay quiet, under the trapper’s knees.
N omad released his right hand and groped for the knife.
“Who aire ye?” he asked, pricking the fellow’s throat

with the knife-point.

A gurgle was the man’s only response.

“What's yer label?’ hissed the old trapper, pricking
deeper with the point. .

“Br—Br—Brazos,” gasped the other.

“Who’s ther pizen coyote with ye?”

_pm-—Sm—Smolikoff. Ly

“What aire Brazos an’ Smolikoff doin’ with them ere
bombs ?”

This was an important question, and Nomad would
surely have had.an answer to it if the Crows had let him’.
alone. Just then, however, he heard the Indians sliding
through the bushes from the direction of the wrecked
camp.

' Another moment and the trapper had leaped to his
cet,

ieee baa re meditatin’ any foolishness with us fellers
over on‘the Fork,” he gritted, “take my advice an’ pass
et Hp. Ei ye don’t, next time I git er bomb in my: fist,
I'll heave it inter yer pizen outfit, an’ send ye rocketin’,

Keep away from my trail an’ Buffler’s, thet’s all.”

He gave the prostrate scoundrel a kick, picked up the
Creedmore again, and dashed on toward the flat. The
Crows, like so many evil specters, darted. along in his
wake.

CHAPTER V.

SMOLIKOFF, THE TERRORIST. _

Old Nomad had met and worsted too many Indians to
have much fear of these Crows. But he was sorry the
reds had come. down on him at that particular moment.
They had interfered with his game, right at the moment
when he was playing his trump card, |

When he got out into the flat a little way, he ducked
behind a tree, brought the Creedmore to his shoulder, and
waited. | )

A blot of shadow emerged from the black mouth. of
the defile. The Creedmore barked spitefully. The blot
sank into deeper shadow with a frenzied yell.

No more forms issued from the gash. “The rest. of the
Crows, profiting by the other brave’s experience, were in
no haste to show themselves.

The trapper flung the rifle over his shoulder, turned,
and started back toward Buffalo Bill's camp.

ae reckon Pard Buffler’ll be wonderin’ what’s become
9’ me,” he muttered grimly. “I stirred up a lot er hor-
nets, but I reckon they wasn’t. bomb-proof.”

The old trapper was a long way from camp, and, after
he had returned through the ‘swale to the place where the
buck had been killed, he picked up his bearings and laid
a bee-line for the Fork.

He had not proceeded far on the trail taken by Alec
in the afternoon before he heard a fall of hoofs. Think-
ing the Crows had caught up their horses and wére tye
ing to head him off, he jumped for cover.

A single horseman dashed around the jutting rocks at
the base of a hill. There was no doubt of the horse-
man’s identity, and Old Nomad showed himself.

“Filloa, thar, Buffler!” he cried. “Lookin’ fer me?”

_ The scout pulled his horse to a stop. :

 
THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. ©

“Tt’s about time some one was looking for you, Nick,” ©

said Buffalo Bill. “What’ s been keeping you, and what

was that racket?”

“Waal, I got tangled up with er passel o tin-horns,
trailed ’em “ter fice hangout, an exploded a few
bombs——”’ “

“Bombs!” exclaimed the scout, straightening in his
saddle. “Where did you find any bombs?” +

“In ther camp o’ them pizen white an’ red varmints.
Quare thing ter find bombs in this hyar kentry, hey?’

“Queer, yes,” returned the scout thoughtfully, “but I
don’t know as it is entirely unexpected. How many
white men did you see?”

“Two, an’ they’re as onnery a pair o’ plug-uglies as
ye kin find in er month’s travel.”

“What are their names? Did you find out?” -

“One calls himself Brazos——"

“A new one on me.’

“Ar tother feller’s name is Smolikoff.”

“Smolikoff !” muttered the scout.

“Know him, Buffler ?” queried the trapper, surprised .

by Buffalo Bill’s manner.

“No, I don’t know him, Nick, put Pve heard of him.”

“Who is he?” rate ie

“A Russian Terrorist.” a .

“Come ag’in with thet, Buffler. I don’t seem ter ketch
yer drift. No cumtux ther terrorist part.”

“Smolikoff, Nick, is a Russian nihilist. He goes gun-
ning for people some of the Russians don’t like—mostly
people in authority, and members of the royal family.”

“Waugh!” grunted Old Nomad, with a slow grin.
“Say, Buffler, he’s er fine Terrorist, he is. Why, pard,
I had him on his knees, an’ then writhin’ on his face,
afeared 0’ one o’ his own bombs. Er-waugh! Ef he’s

a sample o’ ther bomb-throwers they hev in Rooshy,

I'll take er contract ter'clean out ther hull kit an’ ca-
boodle of ‘em. I could do the job all by my lonesome,
hands down.”

“For the most part, Nick, they’re a cowardly-pack;
but, for all that, it’s a pack to be feared.”

“But whyever is Smolikoff foolin’ eround with bombs _

in this neck o’ ther woods?”

“Climb up behind me and I'll explain matters on the
way back to camp. You might begin, though,” the scout
added, after Nomad had swung up at the cantle, “by
telling me what happened to you.”

- “A hull lot more happened ter Smolikoff an’ his outfit
than happened ter me,’ chuckled the old man, as his mind
traveled back over recent events. -

Then, as they rode slowly through the shadows cast
by tall pine-trees, approaching steadily the bottom lands
of Clark’s Fork, Nomad went over his exploits of the
afternoon and evening. /

“Both you and the baron seem 5 have run afoul of the
same bombs,” commented Buffalo Bill, when his trapper
pard had finished.

“Howlin’ hyeners!’”’ exclaimed Nomad.
butt inter a bomb-pile?”

“He. found a bear’s den in a big, vehite- oak stump,”
went on the scout, smothering a laugh, “and there were
some bombs in it.”

“What did ther baron do with ther bombs: e

“Just as he got ready to do something with them, the
bear came along.”

“Did Schnitz git ther b’ar?”

“Oh, yes, I believe he got the bear, all right.”

) Did: Sehnitz

_ knife.

kingdom come.

“Bully fer Schnitz ! Arter he got ther bar, ve didn’t
he go back an’ git ther bombs?” ~

‘He went back to get them, but they tad disappeared,” |

“Somebody hornswoggled ’em?”

“Yes, along with the baron’s Winchester and hunting- [
Unless I’m shy a whole lot, Nick, those Crows
you saw in Smolikoff’s camp must have got the bombs.
They saw the baron’s rifle leaning near the stump, and |
they saw one of the bombs rolled out into plain sight,
From this they knew very well that the bomb-cache had |
been discovered, so the reds sloped with the bombs and |
the baron’s hardware. It seems to me those must: have |
been the same bombs which you later threw into the |

fire.”

“Whatever aire they doin’ with thet truck out hyar, |

Buffler?”’

“Smolikoff is after Alexis.” >
“Meanin’ ther Rooshian we Jolte Alec? oy
“Ves. You remember how I went to Omaha in re- |

sponse to a telegram to meet a man who called himself |

Alec Wittowsky and how I agreed to pilot him in this
direction on a hunting-trip ee

“Waugh! I knows ther hull o’ thet, Buffler.” ¢

“Well, you don’t know that I was met by a secret
agent of the government, who. claimed to have informa-

‘tion that this supposed Wittowsky had been followed to

America by Smolikoff, the Terrorist.- ‘Wittowsky’ is
another name for the Grand Duke Alexis, and these Rus-
sian dynamiters are anxious to have Alexis blown into |
I was warned to be very. careful of
Alec Wittowsky, for the United States can’t afford to
have him. bombardedé, You, and I, ahd the baron are to
give Alec a good hunt, and then send him back to New
York with a whole skin. From the looks of a now,
we've tackled a good-sized contract.”

Old Nomad gave a long whistle.

“This hyar is sartinly news ter me, Buffler,” he mut-
tered. “Fust time on record I was ever cheek by jowl
with er real live Grand Juke. So Brazos, an’ Srhiotikof,
an’ them ’ere Crows aire tryin’ ter blow up Alec! Why
ther blazes aire they foolin’ eround with bombs ef they
wants ter wipe Alec off’n ther slate? A pot shot from
ther brush would do ther job as quick, an’ in a heap nicer \

way. Et’s. plumb scandalous, this tryin ter scatter a

Grand Juke all over a Territory as big as Montanny.”
“The: bomb, Nick,’ explained the scout, “is the Nihi
ist’s favorite weapon. It inspires more terror than a

plain bullet, and that’s what the Terrorists are after.”

“Waugh! I wouldnt be er Grand Juke fer ther hull
o Rooshy. I druther, a blame’ sight, be plain Nick
Nomad, trapper an’ free American citizen,

“My sentiments exactly, old pard. em

“Does ther Paron know Alec ain’t what he makes out
ter bec

“T have told him, just as I’ve told yout, But keep your
information to yourself. The Grand Duke is traveling
incog. purposely to avoid this sort of an emergency.
Smolikoff, however, must have found out all about him.
Those Russian Terrorists have ‘many ways of securing
such information. This Smolikoff, if all I hear about him
is true, is a crafty and daring scoundrel.”

“Don't ye b’ leeve et, Buffler ! Tve showed him up as
er false alarm.” . a
- “What I mean, Nick, is that he is crafty and daring in

_ the underhand manner of all these bloodthirsty wretches

who fight pen ee S

 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
    
 
   
   
  
  
    
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
    
  
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
 

| “Waal, mebbyso. Smolikoff kin sartinly be braver be-
hind a man’s back than when company front with him.”
_ “Smolikoff has hired this Brazos, and the Crows, to
assist him in making ‘way with Alec. We've got to put
the gang out of business, Nick; and we’ve got to look
sharp and save Alec’s scalp while we’re doing it.”
 “Yhet’s us, Buffler, with ground ter spare! I reckon
~Montanny is as good a place as we kin find fer rubbin’
out a nihilist an’ a few American sympathizers. Et’s
purty nigh er cinch, though, thet I’ve exploded all their
bomb material. Ef they hevn’t got no way ter manufac-
_ture any more bombs, they'll hev ter fall back on civilized
hardware. I’m ready fer ther long trail whenever my
time comes, but I shore hates ter be started acrost ther
_ big divide in er pizen coal-scuttle.” :
' The horse, with its double burden, had threaded a nar-
| row gap, and descended upon a level stretch
» along the bank of Clark’s Fork. —
| A tent gleamed whitely under the ruddy blaze of a
fire. From neighboring trees swung the fruits of the
| day’s chase, the baron’s bear occupying a prominent po-
| sition. Alec and the baron had been sitting before the
fire. ‘On hearing the approaching horse they started up.

' is Buffalo Bill-and Nick Nomad. Our lost comrade has
been found !’
e. You bed my lite!’ piped the baron! “Ven Puttalo
_ Pill goes oudt to findt somepody, he alvays makes
.goot, , Vali so. ie |
Alec, as he stood with the firelight glancing over him,
was a striking figure of aman. He was big, and broad,
-and bushy-bearded, after the fashion of his countrymen.
He was clad in an outfit of brown canvas hunting-
clothes, and there was an Alpine touch to his slouch-hat,
which was turned up at the front and fastened with an
eagle-feather. a !
' He was’ a master of French and English, speaking
_ them as well as he did his native tongue.
“Welcome, comrades!” cried Alec, advancing with out-
stretched hand.
When first introduced to Alec, at Billings—at> that
time the terminus of the railroad—-Nick Nomad had just
avoided getting kissed. He dodged, and afterward ad-
mitted to Buffalo Bill that he would as soon have been.
smothered by a stack of wet hay. But that is the manner
of the French and the Russians, and when Alec was gen-
tly informed that to kiss the trapper might lead to fatali-
ties, he did got try it again. But Nick was always afraid.
When ‘greetings had been exchanged, Nomad joined
the baron at the fire, and fell to on some chuck which
they had been keeping hot for him in a Dutch oven. Alec
_met the scout as he was returning from picketing out the
horse. oo
“Just a little minute, mon amt,’ said the Russian, halt-
ing Buffalo Bill at the edge of the circle of firelight.
“The wolves of my country are after me.”
The scout gave him a quick glance.
“Just what do you mean by that, Alec?” he inquired.
my 6==Cf . Y: Weell, I have found a paper pinned to a tree. Look!’
ve - Alec drew a square of white paper from his pocket and
m 6Ssoofffered it to the scout. The writing looked like Chinese
to Buffalo Bill; but the signature, which was the print
of a blood-red hand, could be easily. interpreted as a mur-
derous threat. : =
“What does it say, Alec?’”.asked Buffalo Bill, “*
“Tt says,” answered the Russian slowly, “that I have

  
  
   
 

 

THE BUFFALO

of land |

“Ma foil’ exclaimed the deep voice of the Russian, “it.

- scared mit demselufs dey run.

  

BILL STORIES. 9

been marked for slaughter—that I have been followed
from my own country by murderous fiends.”

“What do you think of the layout?” asked Buffalo Bill,
still eying Alec curiously.

Alec laughed, took the paper from the scout’s hand,
tore it-in pieces, flung the pieces on the ground, and set
his heel on them. /

* “That’s what I think of it, comrade,” he answered, with
a snap of his fingers.

“We'll look after you, Alec,’ said the scout, clasping
the big fellow’s hand.

Then, together, they returned to the camp-fire, Alec

RE and chatting; but the scout grave and thought-
ul.

CHAPTER VI.
A STRANGE HAPPENING.

“Und you vent afder some andelope und you didn’t
get nodding!” | :

This was the baron, engaged systematically in “josh-
ing’’ Nomad while they were all seated around the camp-
fire, smoking and talking.

“Ask ther Rooshian what I got,-Smarty,” snorted the
old trapper. “A hundred-an’-thirty-pound buck, eh,
Alec?” he added, turning his face to Alec. Hy

“Indeed; yes!” beamed Alec. .“A beautiful. shot it’
was; beautiful! And with the Creedmore.”’

“Aber he vent afder some odder andelope, Alec,” con-
tinued the baron, “und he didn’t got ’em. Now, schust
look ad me vonce. I hike for der voods, und I meet
some bears at an old shtump. I haf a handt-to-handt
fighdt mit dose bears—dree oof dem. Vone iss in front,
vone iss pehind, und vone iss on der side. I haf my
knife, I haf my drusty rifle, und I fighdt—py shinks how
I fighdt. I shood vone bear deadt, und der odders vas so
I give shace, und shoodt,
und shoodt, aber I no ged dem.”

“You ran after two b’ars arter killin’ one, hey?’ de-
manded_the trapper,

7. pots vat) say. td-vas'a
“And you shot severeal times while ye was runnin’ ?”
“Aindt I tellin’ you.dot, Nomat? Id vas——”’

“Did you have yer six-shooters along ?”’

“Nod me. I lefdt der six-shooders in der camp. I[
vas oudt for some big game. Id vas

“Whar’s yer rifle, Winner-wurst ?”

“Td vas shtole py somepody.”’

COW ben?

The baron dropped into the trap very neatly.

“Vy, ven [ run afder der odder doo bears I lefdt ee
rifle pehint. Ven I gome pa¢k for der rifle id vasn’t vere
I lefdt id.”

“What did ye shoot with when ye run arter them two
bears, if you’d left your rifle behind and didn't have yer ©
six-shooters ?”’

The baron was “stumped.” His face went blank, and .
he floundered about in an attempt to explain.

Alec lay. back and roared,

“Vat’s der use oof making some monkey-doodle pitz-
ness aboudt vat I shodt mit, anyvays?”’ growled the

39

 

 

baron, red and perspiring. “I got der bear, und dot’s all

aboudt id,”

  
10 THE BUFFALO

“There’s a nigger in the fence erbout thet bias, aw. Ul
gamble on et, baron,” said Nomad.

“Dere’s a bear pulled oop py der heels, all: righdt,”
muttered the baron.

For. the first tithe since they had gone into camp on
that hunting-expedition, Buffalo Bill posted a guard that
night.

Nomad, being first to do guard-duty, was to watch
at the gap until midnight.

Promptly at 12 he crept to the tent and softly called
the scout. a
» “Everything serene, Nick?” Buffalo Bill asked.

-» “Nothin’ doin’,.so fur, Buffler,” replied the trapper.
“Ef Smolikoff is meditatin’ stirrin’ us up, he’s holdin’ off
most remarkable.”’

“Sure you didn’t injure him when you set off those
bombs ?”

“Waugh! Arter findin’ out what I did erbout ther var-
mint, arter meetin’ up with you, I’ve been sorrier’n [ kin
tell I didn’t blow him up. But thet wasn’t ther way o’ et.
‘As nigh as T kin figger out, none o’ his outfit was hurt
by ther explodin’ bombs. I pinked thet Crow at ther
mouth o’ ther.gully, but how bad he was hurt is more’n [
kin tell,”

“All right, old pard. Crawl into the tent quietly so as
not.to disturb Alec.”

‘“He’s snoring like er house afire, an’ I don’t reckon ye
could wake him with er cannon. These hyar Rooshians
snore somethin’ powerful, don’t. they ?’

Buffalo Bill laughed softly, swung his rifle over his
shoulder, and made for the gap.

The site of the camp was excellent in every way. The
flat stretch of bank was bordered by a semicircle of pre-
cipitous ridge, which broke away; above and below, to
give passage for the stream. From its landward side, the
‘only way the camp could be reached was through the gap.

Of course, intruders could come from across the Fork,
or could wade down or up, if they wanted to reach it.
‘In that case, however, the scout’s keen ear would have
warned him of their approach.

It was Buffalo Bill’s. plan to divide the night-watch
equally with Nomad. On the following might Alec and
the baron could take turns. In this manner they could
continue until they were done with their hunting, or went
farther south after mountain-sheep. Whether they quit,

or whether they prolonged the hunt, lay entirely with
Alec.

The Russian had already found good sport. He had
notched the Creedmore for a buffalo, for a black bear,
for a couple of white-tail, and for many antelope.

Although he was a good fellow, and the scout had con-
ceived a great liking for him, yet suddenly his care had
become a great responsibility.

If anything happened to him, there in the wilderness,
3utfalo Bill would be held to blame. But how was the
scout to prevent the hurling of a bomb from a covert?

The chase took all of them wide apart in the reugh
country, and while the party was thus separated a great
deal might happen to Alec.

The more the scout thought the matter over, the more
he became convinced that they ought to stop bunting an-

| oe and bear, temporarily, and. go gunning for nihil-
ists

Bink: STORIES.

That would be ae best move, ce mentally concluded.
No matter how Alec felt, the scout would have no peace
of mind until Smolikoff and Brazos were captured.

For assassins like the nihilists the king of scouts held
nothing but the heartiest contempt. A foe in the open is
entitled to respect, but a foe that crawls, snakelike,
through the brush biding a chance to heave an infernal.
machine at some unsuspecting traveler, can be recarded
as nothing moré than a venomous reptile. _

When the first streak of dawn bordered the eastern
hills, Buffalo Bill arose from his position in the gap and
returned to the camp.

Kicking away the ashes of the ua night’s fire, he
started a fresh blaze between two stones, and put over ‘the
coffee-pot.

This done, he went to ee pace and saddle-horses, led
them down to the river, and es them out in fresh
grass. q
By that time the silver bees oye the eastern hills jf
had spread to the zenith, and the rod of sunrise was be- |
ginning. to SHOW:

“All out!’ he yelled, halting by the tent- ae

Nomad and the baron tumbled through the opening.

“Waugh!” _ Stunted the old trapper, with a side glance
to the east, “I reckoh I’d hev potinded my ear till plumb
noon, Buffler, ef yé hadn't hollered.”

“Dot’s me, doo,” chimed in the baron. “Id’s my tay :
for der cooking, Puffalo Pill. Hat you forgodden dot?”

“I’ve started the breakfast, baron,” smiled the scout,
‘and looked after the horses. Where’s Alec ?”

“Ain't he out hyar with your’ demanded the trapper.

NOR: returned the scout, startled. “T haven't seen
him since [ relieved you last night.” :

“Tumpin’ wildcats !” exclaimed the trapper blankly.

‘Himmelblitzen !” echoed the baron.

The scout walked to the tent and looked in. Alec had
slept between Nomad and the baron. The “tarp” on
which he had lain was in no wise disarranged, and the
upper blanket was thrown back.

His Creedmore, “taken down” and based aiter the
night’s cleaning, leaned in one corner; a case containing:
his shotgun leaned by the Creedmore case. But his re-
volver-belt and revolvers were missing.

The scout turned away from the tent nonplused.
“What. dye. think, Buffler ?” a the old trapper
anxiously.

“I think that Alec dtote away of his own accord some
time after midnight,” Buffalo Bill answered.

Wh hyever did he do thet?”

V Ask me something easy, Nick, Ne he went he took
his revolvers,’

“An’ he must hev climbed over me, er Schnitz, with-
out ever va Use Ao

“Of course.’

“Ye'd hey seen him ef ne. d gone through the gap.”

“Sure.”

“Then he must hev crossed ther or er waded al ong
ther bank, up er down.”

“T believe I should have heard ae if he had lope that.
Go ahead with the breakfast, baron. I'll bushwhack about
the flat and see if I can pick up any clues.”

The scout was harrassed with many doubts and many
ill-omened suppositions as he set about his search.

 
~

   

“CHAPTER Wil

BACK TO SMOLIKOFF’S CAMP.

 
  
     
   
    
     
   
 
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
  
 

Here and there there might be a place where an ‘able-
_ bodied man could scale the precipitous sides of the ridge;
ut in no place, the scout felt certain, could a man climb

Nevertheless, going it “blind” as he was, Buffalo Bill
egan his search by jedewie oa the base of the

s If ‘Alec, for sotne reason of i own, had wanted to
} leave camp unseen and unheard, he might have attempted
) that sheer wall. The scout, if he found him at all, ex-
‘pected that he would be lying at the foot of the rocks
with some broken bones. He was relieved, therefore,
when he had made the complete circuit of the ridge with-
) out discovering any trace of the missing man. a

™- Next he examined the river’s brink between the two
~ ends of the ridge. The ooze was so cut up with horse-
“tracks that he could not have discovered the marks of
_ Alec’s boots if they had been left there.

_ Zigzagging back through the timber, and across the
open, grassy stretches, he finished. his unsuccessful hunt,
_and reached camp to find that breakfast was waiting.
“No luck, Buffler?’’ asked Nomad.

‘None at all,’ was the response.

“Vell,” spoke up the baron, pouring the coffee, “oof
_ Alec vent avay like dot, vy was id? Oof he didn’t leaf
_us for goot, den. pympy meppy he gomes pack. Nicht

“There’s no doubt but that Alec left of his own ac-
cord,” reasoned the scout. “Probably he would just as
soon have let us know he was going, but didn’t want to
arouse either you or the baron, Nick.” :
. “Even at thet, Buffler,” returned Nomad, “you was
on guard at ther gap. Ef he wanted ter leave ther flat,
_ther gap was ther easiest place fer him ter git out. He
-wouldn’t hev had ter bother none erbout disturbin’ you.’
« ‘He had some idea in his head, Nick, which took him
the other way.”
“Reckon he had any houen erbout | them thar nihil-
Beasts ©”
_ “He showed me a warning he had found on a tree-
® trunk.’
' “I saw dot, py shinks!” spoke up the baron. “Td
» looked like some hens hat peen valking ofer der paper
' mit ink on deir feets. Aber id hat a ret handt on id, de
don’d tell me vat id vas, but I had some notions.”
“When did he find it, baron?”
a “Pooty soon righdt avay afder you vent off to hunt
for Nomat.”
“Some one stole into camp and put up the ndtice while
_ we were away after game.’
= “Et was shore,a fool play,” said the trapper sarcastical-
iy) ly. “Fellers thet mean bizness don’t gin’rally go around
9) «tippin’ their hands like thet.”
a “These Terrorists have methods of their own,” said
Iey «6 thé scout. “They'll try to scare a man, and keep him un-
© easy, even if they’re never able to get a bomb under him.
' It may be,” he went on reflectively, “that Alec went off
® to doa little scouting; still, no matter if he did, he would
Se plan to get back here by daylight. Hed naturally sur-
i «mise that we'd be alarmed over his prolonged absence.
Mwe:. Trust me, he intended to get back for breakfast.” -
“An’ ther fact thet he didn’t git back, means

 

  

THE BUFFALO

Broad day would’ be needed, and —

BILL STORIES 1

“Means,” finished the scout, “that he has run into
trouble of some kind.”

“The on’y kind er trouble ter cross his trail, Buffler,
would be ther sort handed out by them ’ar nihilists.”

“Right you are, Nick; so, to my thinking, the quickest
way to get track of the Russian willbe by looking up
Smolikoff and his gang.”

“Mebby,” muttered the old trapper, with a gruesome
shake of the head, “we’re too late.”

“Maybe we are, but we'll hope for the best.”

“Whar ye goin’ ter p’int fer fust, Buffler ?”

“For Smolikoff’s camp. You'll have to lead the way,
Nick. The baron will stay here and keep watch of the
livé stock and the camp truck.”

The scout. got up, went over to the tent for his riding-
gear, and started j in the direction of the horses. Nomad
followed close behind him.

When they rode back, each replenished the magazine
of his repeating rifle, while the baron got the Creedmore
and the shotgun out of their cases.

“Dere’ll be some lifely doings, I bed you,” growled the
German, “oof any oof dose drouple-makers show oop
aroundt vere I am.”

“Ef ye clap eyes onter half a dozen b’ars, Schnitz,”
grinned Nomad, “don’t kill one an’ chase off ther other
five. Ye’re a purty good sort of er Dutchman, but ye
kain’t shoot without guns.”

The baron glared, and tried to talk, but he had so many
.words in his throat that they stuck there.

“Don’t leave the camp under any circumstances,
baron,” cautioned the scout.

“Nod me,” returned the baron, finding his voice
promptly. “Schust a moment, Puffalo Pill,” he added,
stepping to one side; “visper.”

The scout rode over to where the baron had posted
himself, and bent his head.

“You ‘hafn’t  saidt nodding -aboudt vat habbened mit
me py dot vite-oak shtump,, haf you, Puffalo Pill?)
queried the baron.

“Not a word,’ replied the scout.

“Nomat seems to haf der .itee dot he knows. some-
ding,’ went on the baron, “und I vas vondering oof you
hat led ad oudt.: .

“T haven't let out a thing,’ smiled Buffalo Bill; “but
don’t brag too much, baron, or you'll let it out your-
self.” ,

“Oh, It couldn't do dot, Puffalo: Pill.
hangs togedder.”

The scout and the trapper rode away through the
gap, leaving their German comrade smoking his long
pipe and constructing a barricade of the Dutch oven
amd two or three camp-kettles.

Buffalo Bill rather enjoyed the bear incident, and the

baron’s wild boasting, but he was in too thoughtful a
- mood, that morning, to thoroughly appreciate the baron’s
“parting remarks.

Nomad, in leading the way to Smolikoff’s camp, pro-
ceeded to the place where he had had the dispute with
Brazos about the antelope- -buck, then made for the swale,
followed the swale to the flat, crossed the flat to the
mouth of the brushy defile, and halted.

“Reckon we'd better leave our critters hyar, Buffler ¢
he asked. “On account o’ ther chaparral, we're goin’ ter
make er heap o’ noise ef we ride through ther oully.

&c 3

It might be a good plan to approach. Smolikoff’s hang
out on foot, Nick, ” replied the scout, “but. I don’t want

My shtories all

99

*

 
   

 

a | | tHE BUFFALO

to take any chances of having our horses run off: We'd

better hang onto our mounts even if we do make rather

more of a commotion than we think we ought to.”
“Keno!” acquiesced the trapper.

with our guns. They're a measly lot. You know what
Crow Injuns is as well as I do. Them two whites thet’s

with ther Crows ain't wuth powder ter blow ‘em ter

Ballyhack.”

The trapper had acquired a poor opinion of Smolikoft
-and Brazos. He lost sight of the ability the tw6 scoun-
drels might show in carrying out a piece of underhand
work, |

Spurring in among the bushes, Nomad led the way
through the gully. The sweeping branches thrashed and
crackled about the horsemen as they rode. ‘They carried
their rifles upright, not only to keep them out of the
way as much as possible, but likewise to have them ready
in case of need. eet

At the turn which immediately adjoined the camp,
Nomad drew rein and got down from his horse.

“Right eround this hyar bend is ther place, Buffler,’””
he said, in a low voice. “We might as well scout for’-
ard an’ see how ther land lays.’

The scout dismounted, and he and the trapper went
cautiously on to. the angle, |

The teepee was gone, and it was plain that the camp
had been abandoned. The neighboring trees showed the
effect of the bomb explosions, many limbs heing torn off,
and many more broken and twisted. Where the camp-
fire had been there was now ofly a rough hole in the
earth.

‘“Reckon I leit er few momentums ter mark my visit,”
chuckled the trapper.

“Tt doesn’t seem possible that any one could have been
left alive in the camp,” remarked the scout, “with all those
bombs exploding in the fire.”’

“Smolikoff was quite er ways off, Buffler.. Vil take an
afferdavit he wasn’t scotched. I wasn’t intendin’ ter hurt
nobody—on'y ter git them thar bombs out er ther way,
an’ spread the carkiss o’ my buck over ther neighborin’
hills. Ef I had et ter do over ag’in, (d-———”

3uffalo Bill grabbed Nick suddenly and pulled him ©

‘k behind the rocks. .

‘What's thet fer?” asked the sucprised trapper.

‘Hist !’: cautioned the scout. “There’s a Crow just ri-

ig into the camp from the other end of the gully. If
ie comes this way we'll capture hint. Jump his horse
© minute the brute shows around the turn.”

Drawing back, they crouched down among the bushes
and waited.

-

CHAPTER VIII.

TRALE AN GD Ae ei ye
The scout and the trapper waited for several minutes,
but the Indian did not appear around the shoulder of
rock. Wondering what the redskin was up to, the scout
crept torward to investigate,
The Crow, as he soon discovered, was looking over
the ground and apparently hunting for something. He

was on foot, and his pony stood a little way in the back-
ground.

“Anyways, ef ther
gang shows fight, we kin clean out ther hull passel of ‘em _

‘tore swiftly along through the bushes.

BILL STORIES.

Presently the Indian gave a grunt, picked up some ob-
ject, thrust it under his belt, vaulted to his horse’s back,
and rode off. But he rode off in the direction whence he
had come.

Buffalo Bill turned back. . Re

“He’s going the other way, Nick,” said the scout quick-
ly. “No doubt he has come from Smolikoff’s new camp,
and is going back to it. Welltrailhim”

Both sprang to their horses and rounded the sharp
angle of the gully wall. oe ;

After widening at the site of Smolikoff’s recent camp,
the gully again narrowed. The mounted Crow had van-
ished in the brush and stunted timber. Ahead of them
the scout and the trapper could hear a crashing of the
undergrowth, and were thus able to keep track of the |
Indian with their ears, if not with their eyes.

“Ef ther varmint keeps ter ther gully, Buffler,” said
Old Nomad, in a low voice, “‘et’ll be easy enough follerin’
him.” a CG

“But it won’t be so easy for us to trail along without
letting him know it,” returned the scout. “If he finds
we're following, we shall have to overhaul him, and cap-
ture him at any cost.. He picked up something at the old
camp and stuck it in his belt. Ud like to know what it
was. Perhaps it wasn’t anything of impoftatice; but
then, again, it might be.” Be

Buffalo Bill took the lead from this point, pausing only
to take up the loosened coils of his riata, which had be-
come displaced by the striking branches of the lower
gully. a

For a long time the defile continued to twist and double
back on itself in serpentine fashion. Buffalo Bill and
Nomad picked their steps as carefully as they could, but
it was impossible for them to avoid making a certain
amount of noise. However, the Indian ahead was ma-
king more noise than they were, and this not only
drowned the sounds of their progress, but likewise en-
abled them to keep closely on the Crow’s course.

Abruptly the crashing in the lead came to a halt. The
scout reined tip his horse, and Nomad, who was tight on
the scout’s heels, was obliged to do the sanie thing.

“What's ther rip, Buffler?” queried the trapper.

“I can’t hear anything ahead,’ replied the. scout.
“Listen |

What they heard, when they bent their heads, was a
rapidly diminishing thump of hoofs. :

“The Crow has reached open ground,” said Buffalo
Bill, “and he’s getting away at speed. Probably he sus-
pects that.some one is behind him. Now, Nick, best foot
foremost !” |

As he finished speaking, the scout rattled his spurs and
At this stage
of the game speed could not be sacrificed to wariness.
After a hundred yards, the brush and stunted timber
gave way to grassy, sloping banks and a shallow gully
bed. The gully had straightened into a swale, and in the
distance the scout could see the racing form of the In-
dian. As he galloped, the redskin was looking around.
“We kin drop ther pizen:critter with our guns, Bul-
fler,’ averred Nomad, while he and the scout slashed
along in a stirrup to stirrup pursuit. yn
“That isn’t out-play, Nick,” said the scout. “We want
that fellow alive. He may be useful to us, in that way.
If we can make him tell us about Alec—in case he knows
anything of the Russian—and if we can force him to lead

 
 

| Billings,

 

 

} poisoned !”

Co through the air over his head.

‘us to Sinolikots hew eatin, we shall be abundantly re-
paid for all our trouble.”

3

“Our hosses aire better’n thet cayuse 0’ his,” remarked

the trapper, after noting the progress of the pursuit with
a critical eye. “‘Right at this hyar minit we're goin’ two
feet ter his one.” i

“Exactly, old pard. We'll be alongside of him in less

‘than half an hour, providing luck doesn’t go against us.”

Flight and pursuit still followed the straight swale. It

| was good ground for facing, and the mounts of the pur-
| suers stretched themselves out nobly.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed. The

| stertorous breathing of the Crow’s cayuse could be plain-
| ly heard. The Indian dug in with his moccasined heels
| and lay low along the cayuse’s neck. He was looking
| rearward continually, taking frantic account of the close-

ness with which he was being pressed.

The animals bestrode by the scout and his pard had
been carefully selected from a large herd of broncos near
They were animals of speed and bottom, and
their morning’s work, apparently, had not yet begun to
tell on them. '

So far as arms were concerned, the Crow had only
a bow and arrows. With wonderful skill and agility he
straightened, partly turned, and launched an arrow rear-
ward. f

“Look out, Nick!” cried Buffalo Bill. “It may be

The trapper ducked forward, and the arrow sang

t

‘He’s a purty mark fer a bullet, Buffler,” growled the

‘old trapper, “an’ I shore hates et ter set up hyar like er

dummy an’ let him plug erway at me.”

“He'll not do much more plugging,” returned the scout
grimly, picking the coils of his riata off the horn.

“Buffalo Bill’s next intended move was plain to the
trapper. He was almost close enough for a cast with
the rope. pee

“You look after the redskin’s horse, Nick,” said the
scout; “it won't do to let the brute go riderless back to
Smolikoff.”

‘“Ikerect,” answered the old man; “ther hoss is mine

ther minute ye snag ther red.” |

Buffalo Bill turned out to the right. The Crow was
preparing to launch another arrow. In order to do this,
he would turn partly to the left, and it was the scout’s
design to drop the noose over him and not let him see
it coming.

At the very instant when the bow was drawn, and the

scout was whirling the noose of the rope above his head,

 

the tired cayuse stumbled and fell sprawling. The Crow

was thrown headlong for a dozen feet, but he was like a
cat in regaining an upright position. Furthermore, he
had clung tenaciously to the bow and arrow, both of
which had come uninjured through the mishap.

The scout and the trapper, their speed unchecked, were
bearing down on the redskin. The Indian, knowing that
all was lost if his arrow failed him, drew a bead on

- Nomad.

Just as the string twanged, the scout’s noose dropped
over the bowman. ‘Trained to his work, the scout’s horse
lurched back, slid on his hindquarters, and came toa stop
all in a huddle; then he began backing swiftly, while the
scout hand over handed the slack, drew the noose snug,
and, with a pull, brought the Crow on his back, arms
pinioned at his side,

 

j
if

X

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES, = oe

The second arrow had Steudke Nomad’s saddle-horn and

glanced upward, barely missing the trapper’s head.

“The horse, Nick!’ shouted Buffalo Bill,
after the Crow.”

The cayuse had struggled to his feet and was making
a half-hearted effort to get away. Nomad gave chase.

Buffalo Bill, jumping clear of his saddle while his
backing horse kept the rope taut on the struggling In-
dian; ran forward on foot. The instant he dropped en
the Crow, the horse stopped his crawfish movement.

Although the Indian’s arms and hands were useless, he
kicked out savagely with his feet.

Pulling the horse forward, Buffalo Bill pressed the
Crow’s feet together, and took a double hitch about them
with the slack of the rope. oe

By that time Nomad had got his rope on the cayuse,
and had returned to help his pard. It was not long be-
fore they had the Indian snugged down with the riata,
and lying helpless.

“Tl look

The scout dug his fingers under the redskin’s belt, but
found nothing there.

“Is ther thing gone, Buffler?’’ asked Nomad.

“There’s nothing under the ted’s belt, at any rate,”
answered the scout, “but I can take my oath he picked
up something back at Smolikoff’s old camp.”

“Mebbyso ther pizeri varmint throwed ther thing away
when he saw we was pressin’ him so hard. Ef et was
anythin’ of importance, ye kin gamble he wouldn’t hang
onter et.”

The scout walked back to the place where the cayuse
had stumbled and thrown his red rider. After a few
moments’ search he bent down and picked up a small
cylinder of brass.

“Found et?” called Nomad.

“Tye found something,” the scout replied, retracing his
way to the trapper. “It’s a brass shell, a ten gage :
He paused. “Ah,” he finished, ‘here’s the secret of it!”

 

He pulled the shell off another, over which it fitted
closely, thus forming a small, nearly water-tight recep-
LATION (65

“A ten gage pushed over a twelve gage,” said the
scout, putting one of the cylinders in his pocket. “I
have carried matches in that way, and the thing makes
a good pocket cache. There’s something in this twelve
gage.”

He shook out a piece of folded paper.

“Smolikoff,; I reckon,” observed the curious trapper,
“must hev drapped thet thing an’ sent ther Injun back ter
look fer et. Ef JI got-et right, then ther paper is some
vallyble.”

“Indians like a bit. of paper-talk, Nick,” returned Buf-
falo Bill. “Even though they can’t read it, they’re proud-
er of a piece of paper-talk than they are of a ton of eagle-

feathers. But,” added the scout, holding the unfolded

paper in his hand, “this is something else.”

 
 

14

On the soiled and crumpled sheet was a roughly drawn
map. At the top was lettered, by an ee hand:
“How Ter Reech the old Stone shack.”

Buffalo Bill followed the tracings with his forefinger.

Two penciled lines seemingly represented the swale in,

which the Crow had been captured. The swale ran
northward to the mountains, apparently deepening and
narrowing into another thicket-clad gully. This gully,
so far as the scout could discover, divided into three
branches. An arrow pointed along the’ eastermost
branch. This branch forked at its end, and a second ar-
row pointed along the left-hand fork. |

There the map exhausted itself. Presumably the “old
stone shack” lay somewhere at the point of the second
arrow.

“Smolikoff,” said the scout thoughtfully, “is changing
his base. He is somewhere in the hills, waiting for the
Crow to bring the map. When he gets this map, he'll
put out for the “old stone shack.’ If we work it right,
Nick, we’ll be there to. welcome him when he arrives.”

Nomad took off his hat and ran his fingers through

his long hair in a puzzled way. :

“Which ther same, Buffler,’ said he, “I kain’t figger
out, noways. We got ther map, an’ “how is Smolikoft
goin’ ter git it?”

“I’m going to take it back to the old camp and leave
it where the Crow- found it, The Crow will fail to show
up. Smolikoff, naturally, will be impatient, and he'll send
another Indian after it. We must allow the second In-
«dian to get the map. After I put the shells where they
were found, I’ll come back here, and we’ll go on to the
‘stone shack.’ ”

“But how’ll we git thar without ther map, oe a

The scout smiled a little.

“I can carry the route in my head without straining
my intellect very much,” he answered. “Take the Indian
and the horses over the top of the swale, and stay there,

sre you'll all be out of sight in’case the second Crow

2s along this way before I get back.”

Count on me, Buffler. Yer scheme looks like a win-

_an’ I hopes nothin’ goes wrong with et.”

Vhile the old trapper went to work getting the cap-

‘d redskin out of the swale, Buffalo Bill mounted and
rode back over the course of the recent pursuit.

CHAPTER IX,
THE OLD STONE SHACK.

Buffalo Bill’s scheme began “working” almost imme-
diately.

Old Nick Nomad had no more than placed the red cap-
tive, the two horses, and himself on the other side of the

swale-bank, when he heard a sound of galloping. Rec-

    

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

where the first redskin found them,

  

onnoitering carefully, he saw another Indian riding down
the swale, heading for the lower gully.

“Waugh!” he muttered, with an admiring wag of his
bearded chin, “et shore takes Buffler ter size up er siti-
wation offhand. He said ther Injun ’u’d come lopin
back arter ther map, an’ thar ther Injun is. I hopes
ther pizen red* won't overhaul Buffler afore he gits back
ter ther ole camp an’ draps them shells.”

. The trapper waited a long time for his pard to re-
turn. It was the Crow who came back first. He was
loping steadily, eyes front, and every faculty bent on the
trail ahead. Without a pause, he Pe right on and
vanished up the swale,

Hardly was the Crow out of sight before the scout
appeared. Nomad stood up on the bank of the swale
and raised his hat to mark his position.

Buffalo Bill joined him ee

“Et worked ter a ha’r, an’ Ill Eats my spurs.
Buffler ?”’

The trapper grinned delightedly as he ‘out the question.

“Tt slid through like a log on a greased chute,” re-
turned the scout. “I hadn’t expected the thing would
work out so easily. The Crow was close behind me; so
close that I was afraid he would see me before I struck
the lower gully.”

“T seen him scuttle past hyar ore ye'd been A
fifteen minutes,” chuckled the trapper.

“T wasn’t long in dropping the shells and the map
” went on the scout,
“and then I laid low in the bushes until the second red
had found what he had. come for, and taken the back.
track. There was a peculiar thing about that second
Crow, Nick,” the scout finished thoughtfully.

“What was thet, Buffler?” :

“So far as I could see, he didn’t do much hunting for
the first red.”

“Ther second es knowed ther fust wasn’t onter his
job.”

“It hardly seems likely that the second Crow would
take such a matter-of-fact view of the first, or face his
disappearance so passively. Smolikoff sends out the first
Indian, and he doesn’t return; then Smolikoff sends out
another, and this second buck goes right to the place
where the shells were left, and doesn’t make any attempt
to find out what became of Crow. BUInDEL, one. lt appears

a

Eh,

Strange.”

“Nothin? strange erbout et, Buffer,” said Old Nomad
confidently. ‘“Smolikoff is in er rush ter git thet map.
He hustles off Crow number two, an’ tells him not ter
lose any time on ther road. Kain’t ye savvy et? I kin,
like er house afire. ’Pears ter me like et’s up ter us ter
dig ottt fer ther stone. eee an’ git ee ahead 0” Smoli-
koff an’ Brazos.”

“Tf it wasn’t for Alec, Nick, that’s the very thing |
wouldn’t do; but the Russian may be in the hands of his

 
   
   

  

Sees Se

Spas aes eee

ma, =

 

    

 
  
  

 

 

 
 
  
 

 

 

each other.
_ “Hyar we aire ag’in, Buffler!” exclaimed the trapper..

 

: Spe titsnd o hasn’t. already been killed—and it's the

supposition that they're going to take. him to the stone

shack that sends me on a all. speed. Get ‘the prisoner
'ready—he’s going with us.’

In short order the captured. Crow was aoe to the

back of his cayuse, and the cayuse secured by a rope to

Nomad’s saddle. A quarter of an hour after the scout
had rejoined the trapper, both were on their way up the
swale, towing the helpless redskin,

Half an hour of saddle-work brought them to the point
where the swale poet ‘into another brush- poverat
gully.

“The map seems to be correct,” observed the, scout.

“Got ’er in yer head, all right?” asked Nomad,

“Sure, Nick. It isn’t at all difficult to carry such a

tracing in my head. It’s rather queer Smolikoff couldn’t

carry it in his head, and not leave such an important dia-

gram on paper.”

“He’s er
Reckon he

“Waugh!” returned the sarcastic Numa
Rooshian, an’ not more’n half-baked, at thet.

-kain’t kerry nothin’ in his block vut OY ter set up them.

thar bombs.”
The scout made no answer, but gave a precautionary

a glance at the captive and rode on, silent and thoughtful.

Half an hour later they were at the point where the
other two gullies entered the first. These lateral defiles
came into left and right, their openings nearly opposite
The main gully ran directly northward.

“Seems like I kin ricollect erbout thet thar map splittin’

‘up inter three pieces erbout hyar.”

“The map is proving up in good ae
sponded.

“Which openin’ do we take, Buffler ?”

“The one to the east.”

MAC OLECHy

They rode single file init the passage, Buffalo Bill in
the lead.

“Whar d’ye s’pose Smolikoff an’ tees aire all this
time, pard?” called Nomad from behind.

'“T wish I knew,” was the terse answer.

“They kain’t be very fur off.”

Buffalo Bill made no comment. The bottom of the
defile through which they were now traveling was angu-
lar and rough. It was littered with huge stones, which
they were obliged to go around, sometimes forcing a

the scout re-

passage through dense growths of bushes.

Speed was not to be thought of. All they could do
was to work their way onward and be content to know
that they were slowly covering ground which separated
them—presumably—from the stone shack.

They passed a small basin of water, filled from a
meager spring in the gully wall. Here they refreshed
themselves with a cool draft, and watered their horses.
Then they pushed forward once more,

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. ae 15

 

|

_In due course the gully ended in a steep wall, with
tie gloomy chasms stretching away on either hand, at
right angles to the main defle.

By that time they were well up into the. mountains,
and the walls that encompassed them were high and
rocky. Perpetual twilight reigned in the depths which
the pards were threading.

“Is this hyar accordin’ ter ther map, Buffler?’’ que
the trapper.

“Exactly, Nick,’ replied the scout.

“Which fork is ther one fer us, pard ?”

“The one on the left.”

Buffalo Bill started into the chasm as he spok
trapper noticed how he took firmer grip of 1
chester across the saddle in front of him, an
the stark, gloomy walls as he rode.

“Buffler ain’t feelin’ right in his mind,” thought Uid
Nomad, “but fer oncet he’s shy a few.. Ther map is
straight goods, an’ we’re goin’ ter throw ther kibosh inter
them nihilists with ground ter spare. Buffler’ll feel a heap
more easy when we reach ther stone shack.’

A trickling stream ran down the bed of the dark
ravine, proving that the pards were riding toward an-
other spring. This looked promising for a habitation,
somewhere in the distance, for no man would build a
stone shack unless there was water conveniently at hand.

After a period of slipping and sliding over water-
worn stones, the two pards were quite unprepared for
the sight that suddenly burst upon their eyes.

The ravine suddenly widened into a huge amphitheater.
The walls of the circular space were high and steep, yet
they were so far apart that the sun streamed down and
gave the effect of a lighted picture.

A grassy park filled the amphitheater. There was no
brush, and only half a dozen pines set against the left-
hand wall. On the right, bordered by a low bank, flowed
the small stream which the pards had been following. “

Among the pines could be seen the gray wall of a stone
house.

“Whoop-yal” jubilated Nomad, “thar’s ther ole shack,
Buffer! What’s more, thar’s plenty 0’ feed an’ water fer
ther cabyos. Oh, I dunno. I reckon thet map was ther
clear quill. Eh, pardy?”

‘We'll have to tally one for the map, I reckon, Nick,”
answered the scout.

Nomad jumped down and began to strip off his riding-

gear. Buffalo Bill rode up to the stone shack, and

\ ground it.

It was a one-story affair, and seemed to have been
constructed of hewn limestone. The scout’s eyes wan-
dered about the amphitheater seeking in vain for the
quarry whence the stones had come.

‘At breast height, the sides of the shack were pierced
with loopholes,

 

   
 

- push.

Hebd te Dy

16 7 THE BURPALO

Evidently the structure had been erected in days when
a fort was necessary.

There were no windows, in the common acceptation of
the term. Here and there, in the line of loopholes, was
a stout oak shutter, securely closed.

The roof-rafters were of thick cedar poles, their ends
projecting for a couple of feet over the walls. The roof
was of clay, sun-baked and weather-hardened.

Peavy oak planks,.and both securely closed.
Not a sound reached the scout’s ears from within,
From appearances, the place was deserted, and had been

for a long time.

Riding back to where his pard was at work, Buffalo

Bil! dismounted and proceeded to hobble his horse.
While the scout and the trapper were thus engaged,

the Indian appeared on the brink of the
amy Like a shadow the form appeared,
way, its arms, and disappeared.
e yw saw nothing of it.
CHAPTER |X.
CA GHD 30 01,2 *
MO es ther hosses, Buffler,” said Nomad,
wit it, “we kain’t leave ‘em out. hyar.

When Smolikoff an’ his gang shows up they'll see ther
critters, an’ opine thar’s some un in ther shack. We'll
hey ter ee ther animiles out o’ sight some?r’s.”

“Take ’em behind the shack, Nick,” ad. the scout,
“and bunch the three of them there with your riata. If
Smolikoff and his men come, it won’t be long before they
put in an appearance. Later you can take off the riata
and let the horses feed.”

“How about ther Injun?”’ ‘

oe take care of him after you attend to the
horses,’

Nomad strung the hobbled aegis on NE riata-and led
them away. While he was gone the scout approached the
front door.

As has alreddy been stated, both the aan and all thé
shutters were tightly closed. The barrier at the front
entrance was operated by means of an iron handle and
latch. Buffalo Bill caught hold of the handle and pressed
the latch, half-expecting he would find the door bolted or
barred on the inside.
pointed, for the framework of planks yielded to his steady
The hinges screeched loudly.

While he stood at the threshold, peering into the semi-
gloom of the shack’s interior, the trapper came from
around the building. ‘

The fellers as lived ‘hyar didn’t lock up when they
suffler 7
“It’s an agreeable surprise, Nick.

There.
was a door at the rear, and another at the front, both of

In this he was happily disap- .

I ei eee that -

 

PIL STORIES,

we'd Haye to break in.
prisoner.”

Lifting the prisoner between them, they carried him
into the gloomy room, and dropped him on the floor.

The only light that entered the place was throvel the
loopholes. .

“I'll throw epen one o’ a ee
trapper, crossing the room. .

“T wouldn’t do that, Nick,’ cautioned the scout. “We're
here to take Smolikoff and his outfit at a disadvantage,
and an open shutter would tip our hand, The outside of

observed the

the shack must look just as it did when we came; so, in- ,

stead of opening one of the shutters, I think you had bet-
ter close the door. . We'll have to make our examination
with the aid of matches.” . a

“Ve’re right, as per usual, pard,’ acquiesced Nomad,
turning from the shuttered opening and closing the door.
“T’m figgerin’ thet we'll hev fireworks purty pronto, kase
them cold-game gents thet had ther bombs kain’t be so
very fur off, With ther Crow an’ ther ridin’-gear inside,
ther shack shut up like we found et, an’ ther hosses
snugged erway at ther back o’ ther hangout, 1 reckon
we're plumb ready fer anythin’ thet happens.”

Buffalo Bill pulled a slab of sulfur matches out of his
rubber tobacco-pouch, broke off one, and drew " across
one of:the stones of the wall.

This, in a way, pieced out the meager daylight that’ fil-
tered into the place, and the scout crept about the room
-with his taper.

The room was square, amd occupied the ‘entire front
half of the stone building.

There was nothing in the nature of furniture in the
room, only. bare walls, bare, earthen floor, and a small
fireplace, built in the Mexican fashion, across one cor-
ner. :
burned standing on end, and was not more’than two feet
in width,

_As Buffalo Bill’ was passing the Grebe his foot
struck against-something that rattled. He snuttered an
exclamation as he looked ee

“What ye found, Buffler?” queried Nonna

“A skeleton—a human skeleton!” was the startling an-
“Come here, Nick.”

The trapper hastened to his pard’s side.
crumbling bones lay along the floor.
only part of the skeleton which remained intact. Nomad
picked it up and pointed to the rusted steel barb-of an
arrow which was embedded by half its length in ae tem-
ple, above the left eye.

SWE:

A ie of

“Easy enough ter tell how this feller. come by his end,”
remarked the old man grimly. “What sort of er charnal-
house is this hyar, anyways?” : :

“It’s an ill-omened place,” returned the scout;
had that sort of feeling about it for some time.”
“How long d’ye reckon a bones hev been hyar rae

V’ll go and help you with the

It was the sort of fireplace where sticks of wood are

The: skull was the

ilve

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

i
\
i
‘

 

_. tons make er comp ication thetg

a

e
¢

iS a
-

fe good many years, Nick,
has been left.

Not a scrap of clothing
Whether the man wore cloth or buckskin,

_ his garments have long since Boss into dust.”

“What I’m tryin’ ter as * went on Nomad, laying
the skull down thoughtfully, “is how thet pizen Smolikoff
got holt. er thet map. Who drawed et fer him?”

_. The odor of the sulfur matches lent a ghastly effect
to the gruesome old shack. As Nomad straightened up
he cast an awesome look about him.

“There are a whole lot of things oe. know about
this place, Nick,” said Buffalo Bill; “a whole lot of
things that perhaps we never ne know. We’ll go on
with our investigations.” ;

A plank partition separated the back of the room from
the rest of the interior. There was a door in the middle
of the-wall, and the scout pushed it open.

Instantly the brooding silence was broken by a rushing

sound that brought a stifled yell to the old trapper’s. Tips,

and caused his hands to leap to his six-shooters,
The scout stepped hastily through the door with a

_ lighted match in one hand, and a drawn revolver in eS

other. Then he laughed softly.

“Bats, Nomad!” he called back to his trapper pard.

“We've stirred up a lot of them.”

Nomad gave a disgusted grunt.

“Anythin’ else in thar but bats, Buffler?” he asked.

“Not a thing, so far.as I can see.”’

“No more skein) is thar?”

Noo i ‘ LN

“V’m plumb glad « r ‘thet, para. .These hyar skelling-
mnt set well with me.
stanu maya an’ listen

 

Go on with yer prowlin’, an’ I’ i
fer Smolikoff.” tae

Most of the bats made an exit thie sa the nates:
The scout knew that if Smolikofi were near, and saw

them swarming out, it would not take him 1 long to suspect
_ that some one inside had stirred them up.

Passing to one of the shutters, the scout unhooked it,
and endeavored to push it open; but the shutter was

wedged tightly, in some way, and all his strength was

powerless to force it. He tried another, but with no bet-

ter sticcess.

The failure of the shutters to open could hardly be a
coincidence. Passing to the door, he tried that, but could
move it no more than he could move the shutters.

There were brackets in the door-casing for a bar. The
bar, however, was standing beside the door.

Like the shutters, the door must be secured on the out- .

side,

Buffalo Bill hurried back into the other room, and
darted to the front door. He ‘Pressed on the latch, and
pulled. |

The door which, a few minutes before, had yielded
readily, was now as firmly secured as the one in the

| rear!

 

*

> THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. | yy

“What’s ter pay, Buffler?” inquired the amazed No-
mad. :
“Try one of the shutters, Nick! 1” called the scout.
Nomad tried two or three, pushing against them until
he was breathless. r
“No. go, Buffler,” said he. ‘“What’s lies matter with
ther blame’ things? An’ what’s ther matter with thet
thar door?”

“Both doors and all the shutters have been fastened,”
answered the scout.

“Waugh! Why, consarn et, we jest come in by ther
front, thar!”

“I know, Nick, but some one has worked a hocus-
pocus.on us since we came into this place.”

“Snarlin’ catermounts!’’ whooped the irate old trapper,
grabbing up his rifle. “Ef thar’s any meddlin’ tin-horns
outside, we'll blow ’em off’n ther landscape. We kin use
these hyar loopholes, I reckon. Ther game ain’t all one-
sided— it.”

He poked the wile of the weapon through one of
the holes, and then stooped and squinted along the barrel.
Buffalo Bill was doing the same on the other side, of the
room. | ne
There wasn’t a horse or a human being to be seen!

The pards thereupon ran to the front wall and gazed
out, still without making any discoveries.

Without pausing for any comment on the peculiar situ-
atidn, the scout darted for the rear room again, carrying
his investigations through the loopholes on every side.
This move, like the moves preceding it, was equally bar-
ren of results,

Mightily perturbed, the scout returned to his pard.

“Nick,” said he grimly, “we're in for it.”

“Jest what d’ye mean by thet, Buffler?”
bewildered trapper.

returned the

“Why, old pard, we ran cote a trap like a couple of
tenderfeet. J had a misgiving all .the time that some-
thing was wrong with this layout.”

“Et shore domt seem possible, Buffler,” muttered the
old man, digging his fingers into his hair.’ “We follered
ther map, an’ ther map brought us whar wg.ex-
pected——”’ , : :

“And probably just where Smolikoff expected.”

“Why, thet thar pizen nihilist ain’t got narve enough
ter run in a rhinecaboo like this hyar, Buffler!” _

“Tt didn’t take any particular amount of nerve, Nick.
Simply a little trickery—and Smolikoff was just the sort
of man to lay the wires for such a scheme. We

 

The scout paused. At. the same instant the trapper
muttered something under his breath, and caught his
pard’s arm.

A spluttering light had appeared at the base of one of
the outside walls. There was a missing stone, close to
the floor, and the light appeared in the niche thus formed.

 
 

oF oe THE BUFFALO BILL

As the light blazed up luridly, the two pards could see
that it was behind a network of bars, which crossed the
outer edge of the aperture left by the removal of the
stone. u

They saw something else, too, as _they stood uving
spellbound.

The light was caused by a blazing ees and the beer
end of the fuse was embedded in one of the round bombs.

For the space of a labored breath, Buffalo Bill and
Old Nomad stood staring at each other, marveling at the
ingenious deviltry displayed by their unseen enemies.

The explosion of the bomb would fill the room with
fragments of splintered limestone. They could retreat
to the other room, yet even there they would not be safe
from the terrific force of the impending explosion.

With a frenzied shout the old trapper rushed at the
wall, and tried to thrust his hands through the network
of bars and extinguish the blazing fuse.

Here again the cunning of their foes foiled him. The
bars had been placed over the aperture for the very pur-
pose of preventing those inside the shack from interfering
with the blaze while it was eating its way toward the
dynamite enclosed in the polished sphere.

The old man tried frantically to extinguish the flame
with his breath, but it was a hopeless attempt. All he
could do in that way seemed only to make the blaze burn
the fiercer.

“Inter ther other room with ye, Buffler!” cri¢d Nomad.
“Ther pizen nihilist is C

The old man’s frenzied voice was broken in upon by
the crack of a revolver, the incisive note clamoring, loudly
between the walls.

 

Pe Ck.
Be PRA.

It was Buffal
had drawn and
though it were »

“Howlin’ hye

-«-shooter that had spoken. He
ly, snuffing the blazing fuse as

r, but thet was.a close call!’
Old Nomad, : n of relief, had dropped over
against the stone wali. ihe ingenuity and seeming ef-
fectiveness of the diabolical contrivance had played havoc
with his iron nerve.
meet the danger had left the old trapper gasping in be-
wilderment at its success.
“No time to lose, Nick,’
me with those bars.”
Jabbing his revolver back into his belt, the scout hur-
ried to the foot of the wall and knelt down.
to his aid. Then, each grasping a bar of the iron net-
work, and exerting his strength, a small breach was made
_ through which the bomb was removed.
While Nomad held the now harmless infernal-machine,

said the scout briskly. “Help

Buffalo Bill’s quick-witted move to

Nomad went

STORIES.

the scout gr oped cover. the niche i in the wall ene his fin-

gers.
ed eat pon? aid he
low, and from the caine
fixed this up for us.’
“Ther pizen varmints !’’ teathed Old Nomad, tis woice
husky with wrath.

frames up er game thet’s crool, crafty, an’ safe. [ll be
ead-hooked, hous, ef I kin savvy how ney done et
ail,”

“In the first place,” went on the scout, ae ey

from the niche in the wall, ‘either you did not destroy all —

their bombs last night, Nick, or else they had the material
on hand to manufacture more.

“Then, in the second place, the crafty Sanco ‘felt
very certain that we would take the field against him and
his gang. He had this cage in the wall prepared, or else
he fixed it up some time last night. His purpose was to
lure us into the stone shack.

“In order to lead us into the trap, he got ready that
map, or probably had Brazos do it; and enclosed it in
the shells.
ing us. When we started, the Indians reported to Smoli-
koff. :

“The whole business was cu
The time of the first Crow's ate

   
    
 
      

planned, Nick,

aaa? ee really ee the
map for “himself.

part of t the sulch at the time we rode up and came into
the shack. They must have been, or they would not have
been able to fasten the doors so quickly. The shutters, I
presume, had already been made fast.”

“Whar was ther whelps when we was lookin’ fer ‘em
through ther port-holes, Buffler ”’

“Lying flat against the foot of the outside wall, I sup-
pose. Their horses were probably somewhere up the
gulch.”

bombs inter ther wall?’

“That would be the quickest way to clean us out, a:
a bomb exploded in that cage would wreck the whole
interior of the shack. However, they could drop a bomb
on the roof, and the result pg prove nearly as disas-
trous.” i

“We got ter git out o’ hyar, thet’s all erbout it,” averted
Nomad. “Ther quicker ther better, ef we wants. ter
save our ha’r. Think we could find out anythin’ ef we
torked with ther Injun, Buffer?” . A,

“was put date the wall eae be-
Smolikoff and his gang had

“They're afeared ter come at us, front
ter front, so they exercises their devilish cunnin’ an’.

Meantime, he had some of his Crows watch

Vw gamble a blue stack that the wily |
Russian | and his murderous outfit were lying low in this :

“Wonder ef they’re fixin’ ter shove any more lighted

    

 
 
 

 

      

 
  

  

   

 

about Smolikoff’s plans; and, even if he did, he poet
give them away. Carry the red into a back room.’

“What fer?”

“T’m going to blow out the front door with the bomb.
‘When it lets go, we'll have to be as far away from the
front wall as we can get.” -

“Ther Injun helped ter git us inter this mess, Buffler,”
| demurred the angry trapper. “I moves thet we leave him
right whar he gits ther full effect o’ ther blow-up.”
“Drag him off, Nick,” said the scout sharply, ignoring
| his pard’s remarks. “The fuse of the bomb is pretty
_short, and I won’t have more than thirty secon to climb

| for safety after I touch it off.”

q Growling to himself, Old. Nomad lifted the redskin by
ithe shoulders and hauled him into the rear room. After
Mthat the trapper returned for his own rifle and his pard’s.
“Ready, Nick?’ called the scout.

| “I’m Ready’s hull fambly,” came rumbling from the
back room; “let ’er go!” :

Buffalo’ Bill placed the bomb snugly against the bot-
of the heavy door, then he scratched a match, and
uched it to thes fuse. The ingtant the stump of fuse
gan to splutter he darted for the rear room, slammed
door, and flung himself flat against the base of the
ar wall.

 
  
 
 
 
     
  

 
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
  
         
 
 
     
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

   

n shook the Pas ae as of oe shack Papes:

Le SA falling stones.
he gave no sound,
lik wise, had es-

  

But the captive Crow was the least of the pards’ wor-

s just then.
f Bounding to their feet, rifles in hand, they plunged
h rough the smoke and into the front part of the shack.

i ‘Here they were able to take passing notice of the ex-
fer t of the damage wrought by the bomb. The pent-up
fwers of the infernal-machine, as exemplified by -the
lavoc, was tremendous.

i Not only was the door of the old Stone shaek blown
it, but almost the entire front wall, as well.
Through this littered breach the pards jumped, vault-
& over broken stones and splintered and twisted planks.
hen clear of the wreckage they halted, filling their
ings with the purer outside air, and staring about them
" “eyes temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight.

form lay on the ground. Buffalo Bill bent over it,
discovered that it was the form of one of the Crow
ans. The fuckless redskin had been struck in the
by a flying splinter of rock. |

THe DUTPALO BILL STORIES.

 

“The chances are, Nick, that he doesn’t know much.’

Hardly had he accamiplished this when a terrific detona-

“Waugh!” grunted Nomad. “Thet was shorely a tight
squeak fer We, Us an’ Comp’ny, Buffler; but, at thet, we
was a heap safer on ther inside than ther red was on ther
outside.” -

“The Crow was too close to the door for his own
good,’ remarked the scout.

“I wisht et had been thet pizen Smolikoff. Whar is
ther head varmint, anyways?”

Nomad’s question was answered almost before it had
left his lips.

The hoarse sping of a rifle echoed from across the
amphitheater; a bullet sang in the air, and Nomad’s hat-
brim fluttered, while the hat itself turned half-around on
his head,

“Down behind the rocks, pard!” cried Buffalo. Bill.
“It begins to look as though we were in for a fight.”

CHAPTER XIh

AMONG THE PINES.

The king of scouts, as glad as his trapper pard at the
prospect of a scrimmage with the skulking foe, suited his
action to the word, and sank behind a makeshift breast-
work of fallen limestone.

‘Nomad, jubilant over the thought that the sneaking
gang had been forced to fight, ducked down in the rear
of a stone-heap, jerking off. his hat and laying his rifle .
over the topmost stone.

Bang! spoke the repeater, the bullet kicking up a little
spurt of dust near the wall of the gulch.

3?

“This hyar is some civilized, Buffler,” crooned the old

trapper. “Guns is civilized weppins, while them ar’ bombs
aire plumb heathen. Ef we on’y knowed whar Alec
was

 

“Tf those scoundrels ye wiped Alec out,” said Buf-
falo Bil “perhaps this is our chance to even up the
score.’

Bang! yelped the impatient trapper’s gun, eae up
another dust flurry.

“Don’t waste your ammunition, Nick,” warned the
scout. ‘“You’re only throwing good lead into the gulch
wall.”

“Et was from thar I heerd thet fust report, Buffler,”
answered the old man apologetically. “Scoldin’ Sairy’s
patience is beginnin’ ter mill, an’ she jest has ter say a
few words in spite o’ me. What’s ther reason thar’ ain't
any more shootin’ from ther Smolikoff outfit? Et kain’t
be thet one shot cleaned up their ammernition.”

The two.pards waited for five minutes, during which
Nomad’s disgust and impatience grew apace. No more
shots were fired from the gulch wall, and a deep silence
reigned all around.

   

  
 

 

20 THE BUFFALO
“I reckon the cowards have made off into the timber,
' Nick,” observed the scout regretfully. “We'll make a
dash for the gulch wall, over there, and look it over.”
There was some reason to suppose that Smolikoff and
his gang might be lying low and waiting for just such
A dash of the sort proposed by Buffalo Bill
Neverthe-

a move.
would make good targets of the two pards.
less, they arose and started.

Still no bullets were launched at them. They rushed
over the sward, splashed their way through the small
stream, and gained the wall.

There they found a small, breast-high ridge, skirting
the lower part of the wall, and running off in the direc-
tion of the upper gulch. It was as good as a trench for
defensive purposes, and a few empty brass shells showed
where the concealed marksman had replenished his maga-
zine,

There was Ge wie evidence is prove that the marks-
man had crawled away behind the ridge:

“Now what .d’ye think~o” thet fer a skunk-play ?’
growled the trapper. “Ther feller fired one shot, an’ then
crawled away fer dear life. An’ Smolikoff must hev two
et three men ter our one!”

“Til read the signs right,’ returned the scout, as thor-
oughly disappointed as was his pard, ‘‘Brazos, or one
of the Crows, was left here to keep us occupied, while
Smolikoff and the others got out of the way. I Delieve
with you, Nick, that the whole outfit is a pack of cow-
ards. They’re willing enough to get us with a bomb, but
they haven’t the grit for a fight. Evidently they went in
that direction”—Buffalo Bill nodded toward the upper
part of the gulch—‘so we'll take a look at the place you
left the horses. If the animals haven’t been killed or
run off, we'll follow on horseback; if our mounts are
missing, we'll follow on foot.”

“Time is gittin’ scarce ef we're goin’ ter turn a trick
o thet kind, pard,” commented the trapper. “While
we're palaverin’ hyar, Smolikoff an’ his gang aire hikin’
fer ther tall timber like er lot 0’ scart coyotes.”

The mounts were not found in the place where the
trapper had left them, nor were they to be seen any-
where else in the vicinity of the stone shack.

“They've tun ther critters off!’ cried Nomad, his
eyes glittering. “We'll hev ter hoof et, Buffler.”

The scout leaned against one of the pines and became
thoughtful for a few moments.

“Wait here, Nick,” said he. “I'll be back presently.”

Thereupon the scout hurtied around the house,
wasn’t gone long, and when he returned he was prodding
the captive redskin along in front of him with one of his
forty-fives,

The ropes had been taken from the Indian’s feet. His

hands were still bound at his back, however, and the
scout had coiled up the riata so that the redskin had only
a_two-foot leash.

 

BILL

bra ba-Has-ka?

He

STORERS:

“Take him, Nick,” said the scout aa passing the

coiled rope to his pard.

Nomad took charge of the prisoner, and Buffalo Bill
stepped around in front of him.

“Absaroke?” said Buffalo Bill, making the hand-talk.

‘Wuh!? grunted the redskin, in a surly tone.

“How many Absaroke with Russian?”

The Indian shrugged his shoulders and stared stolidly

at hig  esielan Ah

“No speak,” said the scout, “then tcta-nicki-ticki, I
shoot.”” He pressed his revolver against the Crow’s
heart. “Plenty cumtux?” he asked.

Still the Indian made no sign. He was in the pay of
Smolikoff, and he would be faithful, even to the death.

“Tt’s a shame ther nihilist, er thet white plug-ugly with
him, ain’t got some o’ ther Crow’s sand,” said Nomad.
“He won’t say a word, Buffler. He'll let ye kill him
fust.”

‘Where we go find Smolikoff ?” demanded the scout.

The Crow never moved a muscle. .

“You lead us to place where we find um Smolikoff,”
persisted the scout, continuing to supplement his talk with
the hand. “You no lead the way, we shoot. You cum-
Me Pa-has-ka, chief for Great White
Chief in Washington. Smolikoff has bad heart, try make
plenty trouble.” The scout fell back, and looked at the
Crow over his revolver sights. “KlJat-a- “way! MO ie OPGerog
sharply. i

The Crow took trp the slack between him and the trap-
per and headed toward the upper gulch.

“Mebbyso he’s takin’ us whar we want ter go, Buf-
fler,”’ remarked ura: “an’ mebbyso he’s leadin’ us in-
ter another trap.”

“T don’t care where he leads us, Nick, ” returned Buf-
falo Bill, “so long as he brings us into the vicinity of
Smolikoff...The day is going fast, and we haven’t accom-
plished much so far.”

The prisoner stepped off at a brisk pace, led the pards
out of the amphitheater and into the narrow corifines of
the gulch above. After they had proceeded silently for
something like a half a mile, the guide turned sharply
from the gulch bed and began.climbing.

At this point the left-hand wall broke away slightly,
and the Crow pushed on through brush and timber, cross-
ing the ¢rest and descending into more pines on the slope
beyond.

The timber thickened as they déscended, and when
they reached the bottom of the slope they were obliged
to push their way through whipping branches and climb
over fallen logs.

Suddenly Nomad, who was keeping at the heels of the
prisoner, jumped forward, grabbed the redskin about: the
throat, and clapped a hand over his mouth. The Indian
struggled, but his bound hands rendered him helpless
in the trapper’s iron grip.

 

 

 
 

 

THE BUFFALO

“What's up! 7 ted Buffalo Bill, surprised at his pa S
sudden maneuver.
“More
We'll hev ter gag ther red an’

“Hist!” warned Nomad, in a quick whisper.
Injuns eround, Buffler.
make him fast ter a tree.”

A twisted handkerchief answered for a gag, and there
was plenty of slack rope for the tree-tying. Not many
_ moments were lost by the pards in making the captive
' fast to one of the pines. Nomad then beckoned to Buffalo
Bill, and glided onward from tree to tree.

The scout, proceeding in the same manner, was soon
aware of the danger that had alarmed the trapper. :

A wolf-yelp came from the right; but it was not made
by a wolf. The trained ear of the scout told him it was
nothing more nor less than an Indian-signal.

The yelp was answered from the left.

The scout glided forward to the trapper’s side.

“T reckon I kain’t tell ye nothin’ erbout’ them yelps,
Buffler,”’ whispered. Nomad significantly.

“Reds, all right, pard,’ returned the scout.

“T seen ther flash of er ba’r’s hide throttgh ther trees,”
proceeded Nomad, “an thar was a pair o’ Crow legs at
ther bottom 0’ ther hide. Smolikoff an’ his gang aire
playin’ b’ar, opinin’ ter ketch us nappin’, I reckon.”

Nomad gave a derisive chuckle.

‘They’te signaling to each other that we’re coming,”
whispered the scout. “You make toward the left, and [Il
skulk along to the right. If this is a game to sere us
between two fires, we'll call it.”

“Keno,” returned the trapper shortly.

‘They separated at once, proceeding in different direc-
tions, according to the scout’s hastily formed plan.

The yelps continued to be given at intervals, the sounds

serving as guides to the masquerading reds who uttered
them.

Dodging noiselessly from point to point, Buffalo Bill.

came finally to a place from which he could see the
shaggy hide of a bearskin. ‘The top of the bearskin only
was visible, as the Indian who wore it was crouching
behind a fallen tree. ca

With his rifle across his knees, the scout sank down
and awaited further developments.

They were not slow in coming, and they were “ot an
intensely surprising nature.

A crunch of footsteps in, the car net of pine-needles
caught Buffalo Bill’s keen ear. Shifting his eyes in the
direction of the sotind, he stifled an exclamation, and
stared like a man in a trance. A

Alec, the missing ‘Russian, was moving through the
timber, heading directly, toward the gases behind the
fallen tree!

Instantly it flashed through the scout’s brain that it was

not himself and Nomad the Crows were seeking to en-
trap, but Alec!

BILL STORIES. 21

While he crouched behind the branches of the pine,
a bright object came sputtering through the air, and
thumped down on the ground only a few paces in front of
the Russian.

Alee gave a shout of consternation and recoiled.

Another bomb! was the thought that plunged through ©
the scout’s brain.

Dropping his rifle, he leaped erect, and dashed for-
Ward) 7 .

Simultaneously with this ‘move,
rushing into sight.

It was the Indian behind the fallen tree who had
launched the bomb. The Crow was now standing erect,
the bearskin falling away from his shoulders, his arm and
hand extended. With glistening eyes the Crow was
watching the result of his treacherous work.

The Rifssian was unarmed. What he had done with
his belt and six-shooters the scout did not know. It was
a time for action, and not for guessing about other mat-
ters that had brought about the perilous situation.

The scout hurried toward the smoking bomb, If it
exploded, both he and Nomad would be blown fo pieces,
as well as the Russian.

“Catch the red scoundrel, Nomad!’ shouted Buffalo
Bill, at the same time smothering the burning fuse under
his boot-sole.

Nomad answered the call with an ear-splitting yell.

Nick Nomad came

CHAPTER: XIDL

TD Ea eas ON Sih iG Be WS nak Cun INN g

It would have been hard to tell which was the more
surprised by the sudden appearance of the two pards,
Alec or the bomb-throwing redskin.

While the scout was extinguishing the blazing fuse
and rendering the bomb harmless, the big Russian was
leaning against a tree, blinking in bewilderment.

Nomad, at the same time, was rushing upon the startled
Crow. The Indian, however, awoke to a realization of
what was going on much quicker than did the slow-witted
Russian.

Out came the Absaroke’s knife, and was lifted high, to
catch the exposed breast of the leaping trapper.

But the trapper was on the watch. A bullet from his
revolver struck the redskin’s wrist, and brought down
the lifted arm. As the knife fell from the Crow’s fingers,
the white and the red man clinched.

Yet it could be nothing more than a one-sided fight,
for the Crow had but one arm, and that was the left.

Nomad dealt his red antagonist a blow with the butt
of his revolver, and the bomb-thrower straightened out
spasmodically. and lay still.

 
 

22 THE: BUFFALO

“What d’ye want done with ther red, Buffler?” called
the trapper, getting up from the prostrate form.

As he shouted the question, Nomad turned in the direc-
tion of the scout and the Russian.

“T reckon you won’t do anything with him, Nick,’ ”an-
-swered the scout, laughing. “Look!”

The trapper whirled about just in time to see the In-
dian darting like a streak into the heavy timber.

The old’ man started to follow, but was called back by
his pard. . .

“Let him go, Nick,” said the scout. “If you chase him
too far you might run into an ambush. Besides, you
haven’t got your rifle. What became of the other Indian
who was helping with the wolf-yelps?”

“Couldn’t see ther whelp nowhar,” growled the trap-
per, chagrined over the way the Crow had fooled him.
“Thet was er pizen Injun trick fer ye,’ he went on.
“Thet thar Crow must hev er skull an inch thick. Even
at thet, ye kin bet yer moccasins he’ll hev a head on him
as big as a_bar’l in ther mornin’. Howdy, Alec,” the

trapper finished, stepping toward the Russian and smoth- -

ering his chagrin with a broad smile. “Ye’re as big a
surprise-party on Buffler an’ me, I reckon, as we was on
you. Whar’d ye come from? An’ whar’d ye go last
night ?” )

“Buffalo Bill!” exclaimed Alec,
Ma foi, but you fill me with astonishment.
did not dream of seeing you!”

He gave a hand to each of his American friends.

“Diable!’ he added, walking over to the fallen tree and
sitting down on it, “but.I have had a hard time since last

“and Old Nomad!
Comrades, I

night. A man like me,” he remarked, with a sheepish
er ‘is a good deal of a fool in your American wilder-
ness.’

“Fyen an American, Alec,” said ie scout, “is liable to
find himself at sea in these parts unless he is somewhat
familiar with the surroundings.”

“T was like that,” said Alec, “and a ‘pizen’ lot at sea, as
INomad would say. By the way,’ he finished, as by a
sudden thought, “have you some food? Not since last

night have I tasted a mouthful. Mon Dieu, but I am hun-

ed

gry:

“Buffler an’ me aire in ther same boat, Alec,” replied
Nomad. “We had chow in ther early mornin’, an’ noth-
in’ sence. What happened ter ye, anyways?”

“Well,” said the Russian slowly, “I made a very fool-
ish move. I know I have enemies in these woods, and I
thought about them part of last night. As long as they
were threatening me, I knew you were all—Buffalo Bill,
Nomad, and the baron—in great peril because of me. I
do not like that. It doesn’t seem right, comrades, that
the rest of you should suffer from the nihilists because
they are trying to blow me into—what you call itr—
smithereens.” |

BILL STORIES. 3

if

“Cufferin’ wildcats, Alec!” grinned Nomad,

iy hopes
on’t think Buffler an’ me minds hevin’ er lot er bomb-
throwers oo on us, do ye? Why, pard, we likes ther

ye d

excitement.”

“You are brave men, went on Ate “but, nevertheless,
it is not right to expose you. to danger on My account,
T thought about this during the night; then, after Buffalo
Bill went on guard, and I woke out of a little nap to find
Nomad in his place beside me, I got to my knees, took
down my belt with the small arms, strapped it about me,
and went out. | :

“T wanted to look around, you understand, comrades,
If possible, I wanted to see something of these Terror-
ists who had-followed me across the sea; if possible, too,
I wanted to get one of them, om more, within the range

of my weapons. Then I could have done 7 onine for

my Czar.
“Vou see, | was very sure the rascals were watching
our camp, and perhaps getting ready to hurl bombs into

it. Those who use bombs do not care how many they |

kill, so long as they kill the right one.

“T understood that Buffalo Bill was watching at the,

pass through the ridge. It was not my plan to let him
know I was making ‘my reconnoiter, ‘for I intended to
return long before the morning, and I did not wish to
cause uneasiness. I was full of a. desire to get the
wretched Smolikoff in range of one of my small arms.
“Very carefully, and making little noise, 1 waded across
the stream. Then, on that bank, I went above the camp,
beyond the upper point of.the ridge, and waded back.

It was dark, and I could not see very well; still, | did not

think I should have trouble.

“All was very simple as I had planned. I would go
clear around on the other side of the ridge, listening for
my enemies. But’—and here Alec’s voice filled with dis-
mal chagrin—“what I had set out to do was too much for
me. After I had waded across the stream again, I could
not find the ridge. I walked and walked—ma foi, how
I walked!—and I was getting farther and farther away
from where I wanted to go all the time

“Then, after a while, comrades, I gave up. I made up
my mind to lie down and sleep, and then get my bearings
when the daylight came.
high when I opened my eyes.”

The Russian paused, took a gold cigarette-case from
his pocket, and opened it. He heaved a long sigh when
the lid of the case popped ot and showed that the
cigarettes were all gone.

“This is hardship for you,” he mruttere.
cigarettes, comrades, this side our camp.”

“Hyar’s my pipe, Alec,” said Nomad, filling the briet |

and handing it to the Russian. ‘Try et out.”

“A thousand thanks,” said Alec politely, taking the
He

grimy old pipe and touching a match to the bowl.

COO eed OE ee

 

 

I oversiept, and the sun was

“No more

 

 

mh 99

Gs

 

 

 

 
 

cl

eH

¢

my feet, that my revolvers have been taken.

| arms and not my life.
| I have been robbed, I made the other discovery that, with
the sun, [ could not get my bearings.

| fense, imagine me!”
| but it was terrible.

. realized I must keep traveling, that it was not wise to sit
still,
| before, I By and by, perhaps an hour before now, I found
| | was on a hilltop, where the trees were not so thick,
| and joy rushed through me as | looked down from the

THE BUFFALO

erossed his knees, took off his hat, and laid it on the log
beside him, and leaned back. ‘Where was I, my friends,”
he asked, “when I dropped the thread of my talk?”

“Ve'd jest oe yerself, Alec,” said the trapper,
“an’ was Wakin’ “up an’ findin’ ther sun higher’n ye wanted
eh
AR, ‘so! Well, I make the discovery, when I get to
Now, who
could have done that?”

“Some thievin’ Crow Injun,” hazarded Nomad.

“But, if the Crow Indian took my revolvers while I
sleep, why did he not kill me? These Crows, comrades,

: must belong with Smolikoff. They are all hunting me.”

“Maybe, Alec,’ said the scout, “that the Crow who
took your revolvers did not recognize you as the man
Smolikoff is trying to get.”

“Perhaps. If so, then I was lucky in losing my small

Presently, after I discovered how

Then I continued
my old game of walking, and the more I walked the less
I knew where I was. I was miserable, miserable. Hun-
gry, and lost, and out of cigarettes, with enemies all
around seeking my life, and with no small arms for de-

Alec tossed his arms. ‘“Parbleu!
I sat down to think it over, and |

Therefore, my friends, I arose and proceeded as
No

hill and saw an Indian lodge in the valley below.

| one appeared to be about: this lodge, and I uttered a

shout of joy, and started down the hill; but I had not
cone far before I saw two white men coming. They were

riding and leading two other horses, and the two they led

| | recognized as belonging to up dear comrades, Buffalo

F Alec hyar hes spotted ther camp o’ ther nihilists!

Bill and Nick Nomad.”

“Say, Buffler,
He

struck et erbout ther time ther gang was gittin’ back from

“Jumpin? catermounts!’’ cried Nomad.

ther ole stone shack.’

“Yes, Nomad,” spoke up Alec, “it was even so. One

fof the horsemen I knew to be the scoundrel, Smolikoff,

aman whom I have seen several times in my

‘and not daring to approach the lodge closer.
the two men for a little, and saw them take away the

own coun-
And there was I, without a weapon to use on him,
I watched

try.

horses, and then bring out a store of dynamite and shells
and fuse and begin making bombs. 1 waited for no more,
but hurried away.
“Then happened what you saw—the Indian Hob aised
s a bear, throwing at me that blazing bomb. Then you
Se Buffalo Bill: and had you not appeared, I should
at this moment be 2 dead man.”

Bie LORE, 23

The Russian’s voice throbbed with feeling, and he
reached out and caught the scout’s hand.

“Why didn’t ye put. yer foot on thet fuse yerself,
Alec?’ asked Nomad.

“My mind went blank, Nomad,” explained the ae
sian gravely, “and I had not the power to move.”

“Well,” said Buffalo Bill, “we can’t hang around here
when Smolikoff’s camp is so close by. We'll go to the
camp and get our horses, and perhaps Smolikoff, too;
also a ‘mount for-Alec, By nightfall we should be well
on our way back to Clark’s Fork. Get the rifles, Nick—
mine is over there back of that tree.” The scout pointed
as he spoke. “Do you think you could lead us back to
that hill where you saw the camp of the nihilist, Alec?”
he added.

“I, believe so, Buffalo Bill.”

“Then we'll be off.” j

The trapper returned with the rifles. For a moment
Alec studied the surroundings, and finally started off
toward the northwest.

The shadows were falling when, after half an hour’s
tramp, the Russian halted, and pointed toward a hill di-
rectly in front of him, The crest of the hill was almost
bare of trees. .

“Unless I am mistaken, comrades,” said he, “that is
the hill from which I saw the camp of Smolikoff. We
have but to cross that hill-to the valley on the other side,
and then——’

The Russian did not finish. His words were cut into
by a rifle-shot, muffled by distance; and, close on. the
echo of the shot, there came a tremendous roar. Com-
pared with the other explosions the scout and the trapper
had heard, this one was as the bellow of a twelve-inch gun
to the crack of a toy pistol.

The very hill seemed to shake, and so violently did the
ground tremble under the three men that they were
thrown from their feet.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE BARON’S “WATERLOO.”

While Buffalo Bill and Nick Nomad were having their
exciting times at the old stone shack and in the vicinity
of the upper gully, fortune had been running at odds
with the baron. ;

Villam von Schnitzenhouser’s kindness of heart was
what brought about his undoing, and the trouble began
only one short Rone after the scout and the trapper had
left camp.

The baron was calmly smoking back of his kettle-
breastwork, his trusty Creedmore on the ground beside
him, and his six-shooters strapped about his middle, when
a man on foot tottered through the gap in the ridge

pisimalentne sD tes

 
 

 

 

24,
The man was seen by the baron the moment he left
the slope and started across the “flat.” He was a bushy-
bearded person, ill-kempt, and far from having an invi-
ting appearance.
. As the baron threw himself on his stomach, and laid
the barrel of his Creedmore over the top of one of the
Kettles, he saw that the stranger was hatless, and that
he had a reddened bandage tied about his forehead, also
that his right hand hung in a sling oe cepenaed from
his neck.

The stranger’s forward movement was hardly a \walk.
Tt was rather a series of stumbling falls, each one scem-
ing as though it was to be the last.

“Vell, py shinks!” muttered the baron, “dot feller
looks like he hadt peen shot oop some. Who dit id, und
vy vas id done? Hello, dere, vonce!’”’ he went on, raising
his voice. “Shtop a leedle und oxblain who you vas pe-
fore you come any gloser!”

By that time the stranger was only a few yards away.
He stopped and tried to talk, but his voice was only an
indistinct gurgle. Then he tried ineffectually to raise his
left hand, but the effort appeared to sap what little
strength he had left. He staggered, tried in vain to catch
himself, then dropped in an inanimate heap on the
ground.

“Py chincher,”
feller has kicked der pucket alretty. I vill haf a- look
ad him und see who he vas. Dot Schmolikoff feller has
peen shooding der life oudt oof him, I bed you.”

Thereupon the baron stepped over the kettle and hur-
ried to the place where the man was lying.

The stranger was clad in a suit of stiff and greasy
buckskin. His eyes were closed, but he was not dead, as
the baron had at first surmised, for he was moaning
feebly.

“How you come like dot, anyvay?” asked the baron,
kneeling at the man’s side and bending gver him. .

The stranger’s lips moved, but if they uttered any
words, they were not heard by the German.
lower, until his ear was close to the man’s mouth.

“Prace oop a leedle,” urged the baron, “und tell me
‘someding; den [ vill do all vat I can to helup you.”

'At that precise instant the stranger “braced up”
markably. The hand which, up to that moment, had been
smothered’ in the sling, jerked itself free of the cloth.

It was a big hand, and there was nothing wrong with
it, unless it might be the “knuckle-dusters,” with which
it was ornamented.

The knyckle-dusters traveled like lightning to ie bar-
on’s head in a straight arm thump.

For a fraction of a second the baron saw stars, and
other vari-colored lights. These passed into gloom—the
gloom of oblivion—and the baron was: stretched out,

Las

quivering, on the grass.
With a husky laugh, Brazos bounded to his. feet and

“THE BUPFARO BILE STORIES.

exclaimed the amazed baron, “der poor

He bent”

  

threw the sling from his neck and the bandage from his
head. His hat he drew out of the breast of his greasy
buckskin coat, knocked into shape and pulled down over

his ragged mop of hair.

“Yeh Dutch fool,” he muttered, apostrophizing the in-
animate form of the baron, “I could kill ye as ye lay thar,
but I won’t. Yeh ain’t got sense enough ter wad a gun,
an’ I’m goin’ ter let ye live on so’st ter be an easy mark

fer some ’un else.”
When the baron, after a period of unconsciousness,

‘opened his eyes, he had the swaying motion of. a bird in

flight.
“Vere I am, anyvay?”’ he groaned. “Vas I hit mit
some eart’quakes or dit vone oof der moundains tumple
ofer on dop oof me? Wow, my headt!”
He sat up, with both hands at the place where the
knuckle-dusters had landed... By that time he. knew that
it was his brain, and not his whole body, that was reeling
and swaying.
Before he tried to marshal his benumbed faculties for
rational thought, he crawled down to the stream and laid
his head in the cool water. |
This was wonderiully reviving. As in a flash, an un-
derstanding of the situation burst over him.
“Td vas dot feller mit der viskers,” growled the baron.
“He vasn’t hurt so bad like I tought. Yah, so! He vas
making some ’possum-plays, und he played me for a sug-
ger. Vell, meppy I vas. Vy did he dit id?”
The baron got slowly upon his feet and mopped. the
water from his face with his sleeve. Then he looked
about him. : |
The stranger with the hairy face was gone. The baron
went back to the place where the stranger had been lying.
All that marked the spot were the two pieces of reddened
cloth which the stranger had cast from him.
.The baron’s next thought was of the horses, and he |
rushed to the spot where the animals were tethered.
A sigh of satisfaction escaped him when he saw that |
“his riding-horse and Alec’s, as well as the pack-animals,,
were all nibbling peacefully at the herbage.
“Vy dit he dit id?” the baron repeated, half- aloud, «
he walked back toward the tent.
The next moment he had found an answer: ‘to his. men-
tal question. i
The shotgun and the Creedmore rifle had vanished.
So, likewise, had the weapons which the baron. had worn
at his waist. :

These, apparently, were ae the fencher a stranger :
had wanted.

Rage ran hot through the baron’s veins. He forgot

the pains in his head, and forgot the strict injunctions
Buffalo Bill had laid upon him not to leave the camp.

Shaking his fist toward the sky, he said things in volu-
ble German; then he made a rush for his riding-gear, and
another dash for the horses.

  
  

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES,” ne Che

He had the gear on his mount in record time, and was

‘off through the gap at a gallop.
“Pil findt dot tiei, py shinks,” he kept saying to him-
self, “und I vill make him t’ink he vas hit mit a cyclone.
Yah, you pet my life! No fellertike dot can play sooch a
game on me miteudt taking der gonsequences! I am on
der var-pat’ now, find dere iss plood in mine eye.”’

Now, the baron’s skull was about as thick as the Crow’s
which, later in the day, was to stop Nomad’s pistol-butt,
It happened that the German had regained consciousness
in about one-third the time Brazos had reckoned upon.

Brazos was clear of the ridge when the baron rode
from the farther entrance to the gap, but he was not so
far away that the baron could not see him.

The baron, despite the fact that he was unarmed, gave
chase at top speed, and it was not long before Brazos be-
came aware that he was being followed.

Brazos believed that he had lifted all the weapons in
the hunters’ camp, but the sight of the baron, coming. on
so boldly, inspired a doubt; and it was this doubt that led
Brazos to use his spurs.

Brazos, of course, was mounted, though, ‘of course,
when he played the part of a wounded man he had left
his horse tied up in the gap, mounting again after he had
left camp with the weapons.

The chase was nip and tuck for all of two hours.

, Twice the baron came so close to being nipped with.a
bullet that most of the tuck was taken out of him; never-
theless, he hung to the pursuit as long as he could keep
track of the man ahead.

When the two hours were up the man ahead had dis-
appeared, but, nothing daunted, the baron still continued
aimlessly on, hoping against hope that he would be able
to pick up the trail.

The sum reached the an and oe down the
western slope... Somewhere over to the north and east
the baron heard a muffled roar, like the explosion of a
cannon-cracker in a barrel:

Had he but known it, the report was that of the bomb,
set off by, Buffalo Bill for the purpose of blowing away
the front door of the old shack.

Vhile the baron was in the dark as to the cause of
the explosion, the fact that he had heard it, fired him
with the belief that he was close to the scene of real
events, and that back of these were Smolikoff and Brazos.
A little later he came to a small stream. Here he dis-
mounted, refreshed himself and his horse with water,
and took a brief rest.

Then he mounted again, crossed the stream, and struck
fearlessly though blindly into the heavy timber.

How long he dodged about through that grove of pines
he never knew. At last, however, when the sun was well
- down toward the west, he heard sounds of horsemen,
drew to one side in a thicket, and waited. . ”

He was hoping in his heart that the horsemen would

turn out to be Buffalo Bill and Nick Nomad. If so,
then he would lay his grievances before them, and they
would help him play even with Brazos.

But the baron was disappointed in this respect, al-
though gratified in another. And, withal, he was intense-
ly surprised, and filled with some misgivings.

The horsemen passed within fifty feet of him, and he
could see them quite clearly through the trees. Both were
white men and heavily bearded. And one was the ruffian
who had played him that scurvy trick on Clark’s Fork.

These two men were each leading a saddle-horse. Even
at that distance it was not hard for the baron to recognize
the led animals. —

One of the horses belonged to Buffalo Bill, and the
other to Old Nomad.

“Dot’s keveer!? mused the startled baron. “Haf dose

~ plooming rasgals got der pest oof der scout und der

drapper? I'll findt dot oudt, py shiminy! Und ey I
can seddle dot aggount oof mine at der same time.”

So it fell out that the baron trailed Smolikoff and
Brazos to the very spot upon which the wandering Rus-
sian, Alec, was at that moment looking down from the
hilltop.

CHAPTER XV.
BRAZOS MAKES A MISTAKE,

The baron’s experience, that day, had taught him to be
cautious. He had nothing to shoot with, and, if Brazos
or Smolikoff set eyes on him before he: could lay hold
of a gun, there would surely be target-practise and fatali-
ties.

Reasoning thus, the baron hid his horse away in the
dusky chaparral, and stole toward the nihilists’ camp on
foot.

A solitary Indian teepee formed the camp. At some
distance from the teepee an iron kettle swung from a
tripod of poles in the Indian fashion.

At the moment the baron began his reconnaissance
there was but one man in the camp—the fellow who had
ridden in with the schemer who had done as at Clark’s
Hora

This individual sat at a considerable distance from the
teepee. He had set up a folding-table, and had opened
out a folding-chair, On the table in front of him were
a number of small steel tools, a round shell, similar to
those Nomad had seen in the big stump, a coil of fuse,
a box of caps, and several sticks of dynamite. On the
ground beside the chair was a pile of half a dozen shells.
Ten feet behind the man was a box labeled “Dynamite—
50 lbs.”

The baron gazed long at the hairy individual who was
busily working at the table.

“Py chinks!’ muttered the baron. “T pet you some-

 
4

J
y

 

O65. THE BUFFALO

ding for nodding dot feller iss making more oof dose
pombs! Yah, so! He iss loading indo der shells some
tynamite, a cap, und der piece oof fuse. Vell, vell!
Sooch a pomb-factory as id iss! Vile he iss doing dot,
meppy I can findt oudt vere der guns iss, und ged vone
for meinseluf. Der kevicker I ged a gun, der safer I vill
feel. Dot’s righdt.”

The baron had no idea where. the other man had
gone, but supposed he was off somewhere taking care of
the horses. Crawling here and there, as warily and noise-
lessly as a serpent, the German made a détour of the
camp, searching with hig eyes for the weapons taken from
Buffalo Bill’s rendezvous on Clark’s Fork.

He could see nothing of them, and was forced to the
opinion that they must be in the teepee. |

The bomb-maker had six-shooters at his side, but the
baron fell to wondering if it would not be possible to
sneak up behind. the long-haired nihilist, capture him,
take the six-shooters out of his belt, and then go through
the camp.

This was a reckless move, and, as such, had a powerful
appeal for the baron. But he did not carry it out. At the
last minute he decided to creep up on the teepee and, if
possible, get inside without being seen by the bomb-
maker,

As luck would have it, the bomb-maker’s back was
toward the teepee. Not only this, but, as has already been
stated, the man had taken his work a good distance off.
It:was dangerous labor, and not to be carried on in the
midst of the camp.

Getting around to the side nearest the teepee, the baron
went down on all fours, and crawled out of his screen of
bushes. ‘

He felt that he had less to fear from the bomb-maker
than from the other fellow, who might return at any
moment,

However, the baron avoided both these threatening
dangers, and crawled into the teepee unseen, and without
interference.

The interior of the teepee was dark. He had matches,
however, and he lighted one. Luck was still with him,
for, in the flickering gleam of the taper, the first object
his eyes lighted upon was his own Winchester, the one
that had been taken from the vicinity of the white-oak
stump. Not far from the Winchester was the Creedmore
and the shotgun; and from one of the teepee-poles hung
his belt and six-shooters.

The baron could hardly restrain a whoop of delight.
Dropping the match, he took down his belt and buckled
it about his waist; then he picked up the Creedmore and
the shotgun, and prepared to get back to the bushes.

But this time the baron was not so cautious. He was
armed to the teeth, and had nothing to fear from the

bomb-maker. Jn short, he considered himself the boss of

the enemy’s camp.

BILL STORIES.

As he walked toward the bushes whence he had come,
the idea struck him that it would be a good plan to make
a prisoner of the bomb-maker. So, without giving sec-

ond thought to the matter, he turned, laid down the shot-.

gun, and raised the Creedmore to his shoulder, drawing a
bead on the bomb-maker.

“Hi, dere, you!” he shouted.

The bomb-maker, completely absorbed in his detHons
operations, almost jumped over the table at this unex-
pected shout.

Looking around at the fe elatie apparition near the
teepee, the same paralyzing fear took possession of the
nihilist which had gripped him on another occasion when
he had been confronted by Nomad.

“Don’t shoot!” he palpitated.

“Come here vonee!” roared Nomad. ‘You vas a bris-
oner alretty, und oof you make some moofs to chump und
tun, den I vill shood a hole droo you. ‘Come here, [
say!” ce
The bomb-maker did not approach the baron. Just
at that moment the German heard a noise behind, and
took a backward look. What he saw caused him to catch
his ‘breath. |

The other bushy-bearded man was behind him, and had

a rifle at his shoulder, He was drawing a bead on the
baron.
» As it happened, the German was between the man and
the bomb-maker. If the bullet went through the baron
——and the range was short—it might play havoc with the
man by the table.

The baron was not thinking of this, however. With a
startled yell he threw himself down on the ground.

The instant he dropped Brazos pulled trigger. The
bullet cut through the air over the baron’s’ head, sang
onward, and thudded into the box of dynamite. The re-
sult

The baron heard little of the result. A lurid glare shot
upward before his eyes, and against his ear-drums ham-
mered a sound as of a dozen cannons, all discharged at
once.

After that he a enihere| no more,

 

¥ # cs R e Bo se

The baron recovered to find some one forcing the
mouth of a flask against his lips.

“How do you feel, baton 2” inquired a. voice.

“Vell,” mumbled the baron, sitting up, “I feel like I hat
svallowed a dorch-light brocession, Py.shinks! Iss dot
you, Puffalo Pill?”

“Yes,” answered the scout.

“Und who vas dot mit you? 7 is gedding dark, ied
T can’t see fery vell.”

“Nomad is here on my left, and Alec is on my right.”

“Flooray a gouple oof dimes!” exulted the” Daron
“Say, Puffalo Pill, vas I hurt some?” :

 
THE BUFFALO

 

“Not that I can discover, baron.”
“Td vas some derriple plow-oops, eh?”
“T should say so! What caused it, baron?”

“A pox oof tynamite. Vone oof der fellers shod a

rifle ad me. I tropped ‘flat on der groundt, und der pul-

tet must haf gone ofer my headt und hit der pox, pecause -

righdt afder der shot come der plow-oop, und righdt
afder der plow-oop I don’d know nodding. Py shiminy
erismus, Puffalo Pull, I vonder dot I’m alife!”
“That’s what we're all Oe baron.
has been torn all to pieces.”
“Vere iss der pomb-maker ?”
“You must mean Simolikoff. There’s not enough left
of him to plant, and no more than enough to identify. He
was close to the box of dynamite, and was literally blown

This camp

to pieces. A just retribution, baron,” the scout added
impressively. “What a man sows, in this world, he usual-
ly reaps.

‘Dats righdt, too. Nere i isg/der odder feller ?’

“Brazos?”

“Yah, so. He iss der feller vat come py our camp und
played dot ‘possum-drick on me. Vat aboudt him, Puf-
falo Pill?”

“He was mortally wounded, and will soon go to his
long account. If you're all right, we'll go over and talk
with him while there is yet time.”
_ The baron, deeply awed by the havoc wrought by the

bullet fired at him, scrambled to his feet and followed the
scout, the trapper, and Alec toward a spot a little distance
away.

CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.

It was too dark to see much of the wounded man who
lay groaning on the ground. A match was struck, how-
ever, and the terrible way in which he had been mutilated
became evident to the baron.

The baron, also, was filled with wonder. Brazos had

been farther from the exploding dynamite than the baron, -

and yet.the baron had escaped without a scratch.

r This was because, at the very moment of the explosion,
Brazos had been standing erect, while the baron, in order
to escape the bullet that was on the point of being fired,
had hurled himself flat on the ground.

The scout knelt beside Brazos.

“Flave you anything to say, Brazos?” he asked. “You
can’t live very long. It isn’t right for a man to cross
the divide without easing his conscience.”

Brazos started to growl a feeble oath.

“T wouldn’t do that—now,” interrupted the scout.

“Kain’t help it,” muttered Brazos, “it’s the way I feel.

BILE. STORIES, 27
If I hadn’t hooked up with Smolikoff in this here infernal
bomb-throwin’ bizness, I wouldn’t be whar I am now.
Got any more whisk?”

Alec stooped down and pressed a flask to the dying
man’s lips.

“Thet puts a leetle life inter me, anyhow,” went on
Brazos. “What kin I tell ye, Buffalo Bill?”

“Where did you hook up with Smolikoff ?”

“In Billings. I run onter him in Cherokee’s place. He
wanted a man ter help him bump off a feller Russian,
an’ said he’d pay me a good price ter help. What he of-
fered was purty good, an’ he bought me. ;

“He insisted on usin’ bombs ter do the work, but I
balked agin’ ’em from ther start. A rifle was better, T
says, but he opined a rifle left too many remains. When
Smolikoff wiped out this here Alexis, he didn’t want any-
thin’ left-o’ him. ‘Waal, Smolikoff-was footin’ the bills,
an’ I couldn't go agin’ thet part o’ et. But [’m tellin’
ye I nigh got cold feet when I heerd thet this Alexis was
comin’ inter these parts on a huntin’-trip, an’ that Buffler
Bill was ter look arter him. I was willit’ enough ter go
out arter Alexis, but I wasn’t pinin’ none ter tackle the
king o’ scouts. Still, as I says, I was offered a good
price, an’ because o’ that I hung on.

“We got some Crows ter help us. Arter we had
chased inter this kentry an’ spotted yer camp, Smolikoff
allows to -drap a cous er bombs inter it at night. We
hid a small supply o’ them infernal-machines in a stump,
but the very night we had planned ter use ’em we dis-
kivered that some un had found ther hidin’-place. One
o’ the Crows come lopin’ inter our hangout with the
bombs, and with a Winchester, an’ 4 huntin’-knife. He
said he’d found one o’ the bombs rolled out o’ the tree,
an’ that the Winchester an’ the knife was close by; so
he had corraled the hull shootin’-match o’ truck an’
brought it in.

“Smolikoff was purty nigh skeered stiff. When him
an’ me an’ some more o’ the Crows got back ter camp,

~ arter thet dispute erbout ther dead antelope-buck, an’ had

heerd ther Crow’s yarn, Smolikoff allowed we’d hev ter
change our plans a leetle. While we was in ther teepee,
framin’ up thet map deal, along comes that Nomad pard
o’ your’n am causes ructions. You all knows how that
bizness comes off.

“Nomad’s comin’ to our camp in the gully makes it
plumb necessary fer Smolikoff to change camp ag’in.
Then he decides to come here, an’ go on with the plant to
ketch Buffalo Bill an’ the rest in the ole stone shack.
Smolikoff goes over there an’ fixes up the trap, while me
an’ one o’ the Crows keeps watch on Clark’s Fork.

“The Crow an’ me sees Buffalo Bill an’ Nomad leave
the camp, an’ we knows blame’ well they’re makin’ fer
the place whar Nomad worked his bomb racket the night
before. I hustles off the Crow ter put Smolikoff next,
then I hangs out in the gap, plottin’ ter git all the shoot-

 
  

28 Tie BUPEALO

 

in’-irons Buffler Bill left behind, an’ likewise ter do up
Alexis. At that time I thort he was in the Clark’s Fork
hangout.

“My hoss had wounded hisself on a rock, an’ I soaked
a couple o’ bandages in a trickle o’ blood from the wound,
and purtended ter be wounded. Then I tottered in on
thet Dutchman o’ your’n. Waal, it worked like ginger
on er rag. The Dutchman drapped down ter find out
what ailed me, an’ I give him a bunch o’ fives with
kKnuckle-dusters. He went over like a struck beef.

s “Then I looked fer Alexis, but couldn’t find him. Not

thinkin’ it advisable ter stay long on the Fork, I cor-
taled all the guns in sight, got back on my hoss, and
skun out. I met Smolikoff chasin’ away from the stone
shack. Ye’d got the best o’ him thar, he said, an’ he was
off fer camp ter make more bombs. ‘

“The last bomb he had, after losin’ that ’un in the
shack, he had left with one o’ the Crows. Two o’ the In-
juns claimed ter hey found a bushy-bearded man asleep
in the timber, ant ter hey stripped him o’ his six-shooters,
Smolikoff swore the feller was Alexis, an’ give the In-
juns fits fer not doin’ him up. The Injuns, equipped with
b’ar-robes fer disguise, went off with the bomb ter pick
up the Russian’s trail, if they could, an’ put the infernal-
machine under him. I dunno how they come out, kase

olikoff an’ me rode fer this camp with hosses berlong-
‘er Buffalo Bill an’ Nomad, which had rn picked up
he ole shack.

When we got hyar, Smolikoff got busy with the dyna-

‘2, an’ I took keer o’ the hosses, an’ then went skirmish-

around tryin’ ter git a look at Alexis. Couldn’t seé
nothin’ o’ ther Russian, an’ when it begun ter git so dark
in the woods that lookin’ was out o’ the question, J sa-
shayed back ter this camp jest in time ter find the Dutch-
' man drawin’ a bead on Smolikoff. Then I made my
fool play, shot at the Dutchman, an’ set off the dyna-

mite. It was shore er

Brazos’ voice trailed off into silence. His rather
lengthy talk had taken what little strength he had left, and
several times the duke’s flask had been drawn upon to
revive him.

Alec bent down to use the flask again.

“No use, Alec,” said the scout, getting up, “Brazos
has cashed in. Hurt as he was, it’s a wonder he hung
to life as long as he did. But we have learned enough.
Smolikoff, as the saying is, has been ‘hoist of his own
petard,’ Brazos had been killed, and it’s a safe cuess that
the Crows won’t hang around here any longer. With
their two leaders out of the way, they'll scatter back to
the reservation. Alec, let me congratulate you. From
now on, I suppose, America will be safe for you.”

“More than that, comrade,” returned Alec, with feel-
ing, “for one of the worst nihilists of my country has
been slain. This, my friends, is a great day for Rus-
sia !”

BILL STORIES. -

There was nothing much left of Smolikoff’s camp.
The destruction caused by the exploding of the dynamite
was frightful.. Neighboring’ trees looked as though they
had passed through a cannonade; the teepée was torn to

‘pieces; nothing was ever found ne the table, the chair,

the empty shells, and the other material with which Smoli-
koff had been working, kes very little was found of
Smolikoff. —

The horses, however, had been secured so far away
from the scene of the explosion that they were unin-
jured. And this, also, was true of Nomad’s mount, |

Brazos was buried on the very spot where he had suc-
cumbed to the dynamite ;'then Buffalo Bill and his party
took to horse, and started on their return journey. to
Clark’s Fork, leading the two animals belonging to Smo-
likoff and Brazos. j

Nomad and Alexis made a détour to release the In-
dian, but found, when they reached the tree to which the
fellow had been tied, that the reer had been cut, and he
had disappeared.

Presumably one or both of the lad oe had been
trying to entrap Alec had found their red comrade and
freed titi | | |

Nomad was not sorry that the Crow had escaped. He
had shown a finer spirit than either of the two white
men whose lead he had been following, and was, ae a
entitled to his freedom.

It was almost midnight before Clark’s Fork was
reached. The camp truck had not suffered during the
absence of all hands, and for this the baron especially was
thankful.

He had left the Fork in defiance of Buffalo Bill's posi-
tive instructions to remain there, but he had been the
cause of so much that happened in the other camp that
the scout was disposed to, condone the fault.

After a midnight meal, to which the four friends
did ample justice, the entire outfit turned in and slept
soundly until far into the following day.

This affair with the nihilists ended the Russian’s hunt-
ing-trip. A-return to Billings was begun on the second
day after the dynamite explosion, and Buffalo Bill ac-
companied his Russian protégé as far as Omaha, Nomad
and the baron left the party at the nearest point to the
Black Hills, and were there to await the scout’s return.

Alexis was deeply grateful to.the scout. and his pards
for the efficient aid they had rendered him. His grati-
tude, some time later, took substantial form in a number
of costly gifts which he caused to be sent to the three
who had seen him safely through his troubles with nal
koff, the Terrorist.

TA ES END,

The next number (361) will contain “Buffalo Bill En-
snared; or, The Witch of the Painted Desert.” — .

 
e

 

HE BUFFALO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, April 4, 1908.

 

 

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AROUND THE CAMP FIRE.

SELF-TORTURE AT INDIAN SUN-DANCE.

‘It was an Indian sun-dance. Now. and again the muffled
rumble of instruments was broken by a chant from the “mu-
sicians,” that reminded one of Dante’s description of his visit
to the place of lost souls.’ In #ts way, the song was de-
void of music, as were the instruments which accompanied
the singers. And yet, its, weird rhythm comes back to me
from the distant past as a sort of doleful chant of mourn-
ful measure. An unusual commotion and our attention was
attracted to some squaws near us, who were attended by
medicine-men. They had bared their shapely brown arms,
and around them, above the elbow, were laid pieces of mus-
lin. The men, worked with each woman in turn. From the
upper arm were cut small chunks of flesh, while the women
endured and watched the operation without flinching, The
pieces were then placed in the muslin, tied up like little
halls, preparatory to being buried. The women had dis-
played their bravery, and were assured that by the time the
pieces had decayed in the ground the wounds in their arms
would be healed. ;

The youths had been dancing, as before, to the sun since
early morning, and about two o’clock in the afternoon they
began to “take their medicine.” A number of medicine-men
had brought rods, to the ends of which were attached by a
string some kind of fancy tackie—resembling that used by
an angler to lure his finny prey. This tackle was dangled
before the dancers’ eyes just out of their reach. Each
young man endeavored to follow it continually with his
eyes, and apparently tried to catch it, And so, with heads
thrown back at a breakneck angle, they followed the medi-
cine-men around and around, as they ceaselessly dangled the
tackle up and down. ‘Thus they led the dancers about, now
causing them to turn one way, now another; now to whirl
to the rear so quickly as to almost cause them to fall to the
ground, i

The evident purpose was to make the dancers so dizzy as
to fall from exhaustion; thus rendering them less sensitive

 

~

BILL STORIES. -

to pain—surely, an heroic anesthetic, if such it were. As they
had already been dancing ‘with the sunlight blinding their
eyes for several hours it was not long before they succumbed
to the “medicine.” Soon, as they dropped, other doctors
sprang upon them, by different fiendish methods preparing
each for his special ordeal.

Several kinds of trials had been arranged, which were
considered equally severe; and before the rites began each
youth had been given his choice—a grim privilege. Some
were led to pens, two of which had been erected at either
side of the arena, opposite each other. They were formed
by four strong posts, about six feet high, firmly set in the
ground at the corners of a quadrangle, about four by six
feet. In these quadrangles the unfortunate would-be braves
were stood; and loops of the flesh on their backs and breasts
were fastened securely by thongs to the four posts. There
they had to stay until they succeeded in tearing the thongs
loose by frantic lunges of their writhing bodies. Their he-
roic efforts as they jerked forward and backward in the
effort to break free with the terrible laceration, made a
horrible and sickening sight, yet there was worse to come.

Some of the men had to walk—almost, stagger, really—
around the ring, with great buffalo-skulls attached by cords
to the flesh of their backs. The weight of the skulls and
their hitching and dragging along the ground, had to tear
the thongs loose from the flesh before the men could be re-
lieved of their burdens and their endurance powers be ad-
judged thoroughly proved. Not for a moment were they
allowed to rest, and their agony must have been dreadful.

I sank back in horror. At all the hideous sights I had
become very faint. My husband saw it, and immediately
applied the smelling-salts he had brought for an emergency.
IT was revived somewhat by the salts, and again began to no-
tice the sights about me.

The first thing
feet or more from

I beheld was a figure hanging twenty
the ground, from the flesh of its back at-
tached by a thong to the pole in the center of the inclosure.
Several more men were being put up in the same way. They
were left to hang until the flesh by which their weight was,
suspended had ripped free. The thongs were fastened to
the pole near its top, aud the body could swing to and fro
past the pole—after bumping against it. One man I saw
brace his feet against the pole and shove himself away from

 

it, swinging back and forth for several feet, like a human

pendulum. At last he dropped, as they all did sooner or later,
and upon being revived said his “heart was so strong,” and
asked ‘the medicine-men. to put him up agdin—which they
promptly did.

I turned away from sheer weakness at the sight. More
than one of the visiting women had fainted, but the Indian
women watched the trials with expressions only of fever-
ish interest. They seemed loath to lose one glimpse. In one
place squatted a group of old squaws, and every few min-
utes they raised their voices in guttural unison, calling to
the. voluntary sufferers—“Ohetekha, Ohetekha, cosha me-
towah!”——“Be brave, my son, be brave.” Their cries were
intended to cheer the candidates, or, in Indian lore, to “make
their hearts strong.” Again and again the orchestra chanted
in their dismal reiteration.

It was marvelous how the youths endured the pain, Not

 

 
 

   

Se

a cry or murmur crossed their lips. They seemed to vie

with each other in showing how much they could endure.

I felt relieved when the setting sun put an end to the affair,

for I had seen enough of savage customs of torture, and was,

indeed, glad that a continuance of such performances was
forever prohibited in our country.
HUNTING TROUBLE.

A Doctor Penrose had a terrible time while he was hunt-
ing in the Rockies, though his bad luck was brought about
by his own carelessness. i

Seeking deer, he went out alone from the camp, and wan-
dered on until he reached the bank of a small creek. He
had three cartridges in his rifle, when he descried a yearling
grizzly, whose skin, he told himself at once, was just what
he needed.

He used two of his three cartridges in killing the young
bear, and then he did something no expert bear-hunter
would do, if he had shot sixteen cubs. He began to skin his
quarry without reloading his gun.

Now, the mother bear is always on the job. Startled by
a noise in the bushes some two hundred feet away from
him, Doctor Penrose glanced up, to see a huge, powerful
grizzly coming for him with all the bristling wrath of the
she bear bereft. Then he remembered the solitary charge -
that lay waiting in his rifle. But he held his nerve. He
waited until the great body had overpassed one-half of the
distance. Sure°of his mark, he fired.

The bear came tearing on, after a single growl of pain,
at even greater speed. The doctor had only his empty gun,
with which. he dealt her a blow with the butt as she came
upon him. He might as well have hit her with a straw.
Her mighty paw felled him to the ground, and with foam-
flecked, open jaws she stood over him, ready to wreak the
" maternal vengeance he had so foolishly braved.

In that instant the doctor was literally in the very jaws
of death—far nearer to his doom than any daring lion-tamer
who, with thousands to applaud, has put his head into the
mouth of a beast trained by long, cruel lessons.

The ‘one bullet he had fired at ‘last..took effect. . The
mother bear groaned in mortal agony and fell to the ground
beside the slayer of her cub—dead. —

Doctor Penrose was found an hour later insensible beside
the creek, his arm fearfully totn by the bear’s claws. His
injuries from the’ one rending blow given by the bear were
so. grave that he was three or four months before he
recovered.

FAITHFUL TQ THE LAST.

BY JACKSON BANKER

 

 

When I was a young man—which is now, alas! very
long ago—I took service in a regiment, and went out to
fight the Indians.

When we first started on the campaign, James John-
son was one of the sergeants. During the war he mar-
ried an old campaigner, who had looked after our liquor
department ever since the regiment was formed. They

THE BUFFALO

BILE: STORIES.’

had a boy while they were in the thick 6 the Indian
country, and within a month of his birth the mother was
shot dead while dressing one of my comrades’ wounds,
We at once decided to adopt the boy as the son of the
troop. a

It was as well we did, for his father had enough to do
to look after himself without taking fresh responsibili-
ties on his shoulders. By the time the boy was four
years old, the father had been degraded to the ranks for
persistent insobriety. I remember few things more pa-
thetic than when little Bill Johnson came crawling on
hands and knees up the steep hill to the guardhouse and
demanded furiously that I, who was only a humble sen-
try on duty there, should give him his “Dada,” then in
the lockup for being drunk on duty.

It was clearly against regulations to let that four-year-
old desperado into the guard-room, However, he was
a sweet, domineering little chap, and took us by storm,
and the end of it was that he led his father out by the
hand, and drew him away to look at his mother’s grave,
in the lonely cemetery on the bluffs. Thére the old
soldier became overcome with a sense of his own degra-
dation and his child’s loneliness. He had a fit, and was
found by the doctor and anibutance men lying dead on
his wife’s grave.

And the sergeant of the euard was tried by court-
martial, and reduced to the ranks, for regulations are
regulations.

Thenceforward we were fonder of Billy Hes ever, and
the troop acted as father,and mother, and every oouas
possible relation to the lad.

We determined to lick Billy into shape, so we put him
into the hands of an old German woman, who had done

washing for the soldiers, and made pies for them, and
lent them money almost beyond the memory of man.

From his earliest days he had taken to the bugle, as
an ordinary child might to a suckling-bottle.

When he was ten he could blow all the calls, and ride
the most hard-mouthed charger to water, while leading
two others, which was more Han any recruit could do. |

When he was fifteen, Billy was asked whether he would
like to enlist. We drew for him out of our own cloth-
ing allowances. I remember one chap named Wilkins,
who was about six foot five, gravely putting down for a
pair of No. 1 trousers, which would not have done more
than make a couple of patches on his own huge pants.

Billy was a wonderful bugler. I have never known
one more inspiring. He used {oO sing, (oa. 8

The boys woud be cleaning up for Sunday morning
inspection, and Billy would chirp up something jolly, ,
and we would yell a chorus. nm

Then he would sing quietly some homelike, pathetic
song, and make us forget the snow on the prairie, and
the trouble to get wood, and the half-rations.

The boys wouldn’t join in that chorus, but just kept
on wiping the rust from the carbines, and some of them
would be dropping something on the barrel that would
turn to rust very ‘soon.

He was a generous little chap, too, and we were all
devoted to him.

  
THE BUFFALO

T remember when I’ was down with malarial fever—
d I was reckoned a surly fellow enough—little Billy
Mbrought me grapes, and he must have paid through
Mthe nose for them, poor little chap. And he was the
aime to everybody, kind and thoughtful, and jolly. ©
One late autumn afternoon we started off on the track
sf some Indians. We had coffee at sunset. It was driz-
ng with rain, and looked like a bad night.

We thought our scout little better than a greenhorn, ©

but he was supposed to know the country, and we did not

Neexpect any fighting for the present.

' However, somebody blundered, and, instead of keeping
fo the trail, we branched off, and struck right into a
wandering band of Comanches.

The brutes saw us before we knew they were any-
vhere near, and suddenly we wete greeted with as hor-
ible a yell as ever a Comanche managed to make. It

s taining, and night-time, and we did not expect them,

when we dimly saw them whirling around us at full
eed—some lying on the offside of their ponies’ bellies,
nd some of them leaping to their feet in the saddle, and
Wl of them firing into us as best they could—we were

o tattled just at first to do much. We had walked
ight into a nest of them.

The old captain devoted just thirty seconds to giving

opinion of the guide, and then began business. We
were near the river, and our immediate safety was to get
cross it. When we had done so, the Indians, who either
ought we were’stronger than they, or followed the In-

n principle, “Never fight in the dark,” decided to let
s alone. In the gray of the dawn the roll was called in
whispers, and we were pleased to find that only two of
is had dropped in their saddles, and we hoped that we
ad hit some of the enemy in the few minutes’ fight.

_I say we were pleased for a moment; but before day-
ight it was whispered along the line, “Billy’s missing,”

Mand our pleasure was turned into despair. The poor lit-.

tle rascal! He had always had a fancy for riding the
hardest-mouthed. and most unmanageable horse in the

troop, for he prided himself on his riding, and that horse

was now with us riderless, 3
f When morning came there was not a sign of an In-
dian to be seen in any direction. We fell in, and the
aptain made us a little speech. nas
_* Men,” he said, “something has happened, through no
Mault of yours or mine, to make me break through my
instructiony. I don’t know the strength of that band we
ran into last night in the darkness, but one of your most
cherished comrades is either dead among the bluffs over
there or a prisoner. I am going to disobey my instruc-
fons, and find Billy.” Se Bail
| We cheered the captain, of course, but we knew, and
ne knew, that if every officer in the army had given or-
fers to the contrary, the troop would have hunted up
milly for themselves.
| The rain of the previous night had so saturated the
Brasses of the plain and the earth of the trail that it
was not difficult for any of us to make out the direction
e Comanches had taken, and we scarcely needed the

help of our guide. We started at a trot, and traveled at

t good pace. It was obvious that the captain was as

hervously anxious as any to come up with the Indians, .

mor he frequently allowed his horse to break into a
op, and we followed readily.

| The troop had the reputation of being the jolliest of
fhe regiment while on the march, but that day there were

gal-

BILL STORIES. | nay
no songs, no laughs, no horse-play, and Wilkins, the
chap of six-foot-five, who bought Billy his pants, was
most cut up of any. Once when I looked at him, I saw a
tear trickling down from beneath his heavy red eye-
brows.

It was about sunset when the captain halted and con-
sulted with the scout.

We were just coming to a narrow-dangerous pass,
and the shades of night were falling fast. If the cap-
tain had not been reckless, he would never have ven-
tured with his men into such a defile at such a time.

We were getting up the valley, and the rocks on each

‘side were beginning to reach far above our heads, shut-

ting out the last gleam of sunlight, when suddenly, from
beyond, came the clear, shrill notes of the bugle.

The captain halted instinctively, and the troop drew
up behind him.

“What was that, sergeant?” he asked, turning sharp-
ly round in his saddle.

Wilkins got tremendously excited. He left his place
in the ranks, and galloped to the front.

“It's the kid!’ ‘he shouted. “It’s Billy, 1 can’ tell
him. No one ever blew a note like his. It’s Billy!”

He.was so wild that he would have charged up the
ravine by himself had not somebody caught his horse by
the bridle and checked him.

The captain looked sternly at the scout, and drew his
revolver.

“What does this mean?’ he asked.

The man turned, with the calmest, most innocent air,
and said:
“They are there.
forward at a gallop.

Again the clear notes of the bugle rang through the
night air. It was Billy. No one but he could sound a
bugle like that; and even as we raised ourselves in our
saddles there was the ring of a rifle and the whiz of a
bullet, and the captain yelled:

“An ambush! Twos, right about! Gallop!”

And we did, as quickly as our horses could carry us,
but first the captain leveled his revolver, and sent a bul-
let into the back of that flying scoundrel, our false guide.
~ We halted on a bluff near.the river, and got the horses
under cover in a clump of cottonwoods, All that night
and next day we fought, skirmishing, charging, and re-
tiring, until a scouting-party came to our relief.

It was many years after that I heard the fate of poor
Billy, which was pretty much as we had guessed. It
was from a scout in government employ, who had been
among the Comanches, that I heard all about it. He
told me how Billy’s horse stumbled and threw him, and
in the darkness no one saw the mishap. He told us how

Big chief no come.” And he rode

-the boy fought with his revolver, and killed two Indians,

and how the chief, laughing at the pluck of the boy,
saved his life then, and took him with him, until the
Comanches joined another party, and waited for us.

All that march their scouts had lined the neighboring
bluffs, and signaled our approach, and our treacherous
scout. had signaled back to them unseen by us. They
drew us on into the ambush, and we were nearly sur-
rounded, when Billy realized what was going on and
blew the bugle, which the Indians had never thought of
taking from him.

I didn’t ask the man anything about what happened
to Billy, for I knew all too well. They. killed him, the
ruffians, before he could blow another warning-note.

 
 

 

 

 

 

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331—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen; or, The Ghost | 347—Buffalo Bill Among the Man-Eaters; or, The \l\
Flower’s Mission. tery of Tiburon Island.
332—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder; or, A King | 348—Buffalo Bill’s Casket of Pearls; or, The Lost Trea:
For a Foe. ure of the Montezumas.
333—Buffalo Bill’s. Ice Barricade; or, The Red and | 349—Buffalo Bill’s Sky Pilot; or, The Fiesta Tangle.
White Renegades of Powder River. 350—Buffalo Bill’s “Totem”; or, The Mystic Symbol
334—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Eik; or, The Mail the Yaquts, ee
Seekers of the Range. 251—Buffalo Bill’s Flat-boat Drift; or, Taming the Mi
335—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance; or, The Thrall of the sissippi Tigers.
Lightning That Strikes. : 352—Buffalo Bill on Deck; or, The Strange Pilot of (,
336—Buffalo Bill’s Peace Pipe; or, The Casket of Mys- ~ River Belle.
rely: 353—Buffalo Bill and the Bronco Buster; or, The Ra
337—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis; or, The White Captive of Wolf Fang. |
of the Sioux. 354—Buffalo Bill’s Great Round-up; or, Trailing ¢
338—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa; or, The Lost Prin- Red Cattle-rustlers.
cess of the Moquis. 355—Buffalo Bill’s Pledge; or, The Vultures. of 1!
339—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death; or, The Narrow Path. —
Secret of the Jasper Joss. 356-—Buffalo Bill’s Cowboy Pard; or, Hoofs and Hor
340—Buftalo Bills Pay Streak; or, A Box Full of on the Chisholm Trail.
Trouble for the ’Paches. 357—Buffalo Bill and the Emigrants; or, The Blac’
341—Buftalo Bill on Detached Duty; or, The Break on Captain of the Wagon Train. :
the Bad Ax Trail. 358—Buffalo Bill Among the Pueblos; or, The ot
342—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery; or, The Rope-and- Hunt of Professor Bings.
Catamount Puzzle. 359—Butftalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards; or, Trailing th
343—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party; or, The Red Raiders Ute “Shiners.”
of the Picketwire. ; 360—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé; or, Foiling a Nihilist Plot
344—Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride; or, The Capture of }| 361—Buffalo Bill Ensnared: or, The Witch of the Paint:
Handsome Elk. Desert. ‘eG
345—Buffalo Bill’s Water Trail; or. The Still Hunt at | 362—Buffalo Bill’s Pick-up;-or, Whe Secret of the Ha
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346—Buffalo Bill’s Ordeal of Fire; or, Trapped in the | 363—Buffalo Bill’s Quest; or, The Hidden City of t
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