oS é : ad £ z = : No. 354 FEB.22,1908 ® 800204 | sidered utterly unworthy by many. DEVOTED TO BORDER LIFE A WEEKLY PUBLICATION Issued Weekly. By subscription $250 per year. Entered as Secondclass Matter at the N. V. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NV. V. A ; ~' Entered according to Act of Congress an the year 1908, in the Office of the Librarian.of Congress, Washington, D. C. eS 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. No. 354. NEW YORK, February 22, 1908, Price Five Cents. BUFFALO BILL'S GREAT ROUND-UP; ee OR, —-Trailing the Red Cattle Rustiers. By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPTER. “STONY LONESOME.” A Digger Indian or a Chink are both pretty low down; but the sheep-herder was at the time our story opens considered so far beneath either of these that a cattleman would accept a Chink as his blood-brother ‘be- fore he would recognize a shepherd, The shepherd was then scorned by all men, and con- It was no crime— and so considered by_the “authorities” in some sections —to shoot a sheep-herder. In nine cases out of ten he was himself ashamed of _his business, and would often vigorously deny it.< To _call a cow-puncher a sheep-herder was to cause sudden activity-all along the firing-line, and coroner's juries were apt to justify the deed when the above provocation was proven. In that day one generation, it seemed to be considered that the West, being full of so-called “bad men,” road- agents, gun-fighters, and wild cattle, was a good place to send a “wayward son’ to be reformed. It was an easy way of shifting the burden of such folks from your own shoulders to those of the hard-worked United States. marshals, who then stood for law and order throughout the cattle-country. This young man. in particular found himself little courted in the West. His learning made no dent in the community. The West had seen other men who could recite Cicero in the original tongue; they were usually buried inside of two years, after a more than usually severe attack of delirium tremens. Several decent fellows tried to give this young “col- lege sharp” a boost; but the attitude of the Westerner toward the weakling is more pitying than helpful. Jt. Sante stn te i Ni Mt iar Mia aaa sO A SCE TE IEE rece, Saenger ery, nae Sa LIMON IESE SESE as = MS : vival of the fittest is the first law of all. SEIT eH 2 is held toward the setting sun that the law of the sur- ‘Not much use patching an old shoe; better buy a new pair! 3p0, notice: the result: One day this young. fellow fonnd Laveds penniless, hungry, and despondent, with the nervousness of the man who has tried for a month to demonstrate the the- ory that alcohol is food. An overcoat, saved from the wreck, was deposited by the Easterner in the ordinary place—for the Hebrew pawnbroker was known even in the cow-towns—and he hiked out for a little place in the hills where a “last friend” lived—said last friend being | possibly good for fifty dollars—or might not. He. was not, and the toucher went hungry for another day, and fell deeper into the depths. Hemet a man who was friendly, had one drink, two. drinks, more drinks, and in the morning awoke at.a ranch-house some half-hundred miles from the. town. Mow, he was not shanghaied, for. ae remembered the tide on a buckboard over the most bumpity road he had ever experienced. But he had no remembrance of an agreement that, for thirty-five dollars per month and That part was recalled to him by the rancher, and his own name, board, he was to watch lamb develop into mutton. written erratically, : but undoubtedly genuine, shown him on a paper to that effect. The friendly ranch- er had been transformed overnight from host-to boss. The prodigal received an outfit in a gurnny-sack, was formerly introduced to the best-mannered animal about the ranch—not saving’ the rancher and his wife—a dog named Jerry, was told something about’ sheep habits, and finally taken over the hills to the range and “dumped” at the lonesomest- -looking shack, on the lone- somest-looking hillside that was ever made and> for- gotten. Between the man‘and the rising sun were 3,400 sheep, _who were glad to be out of the pen, and who gamboled along in a frolicsome fashion that made it somewhat tiresome to keep track Cay they’ did not travel steadily. ae oe Not even a patting drink to comfort’ the Easterner with the “hot coppers” Honesty cabbage-leaf. The boss had” presented him with’ A. six- shot revolver and a ‘suprly ‘of cartridges, along with the gunny- sack, and his bl lessing. THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. 5 and his pipe was only a bad- / smelling dudeen, which | he ‘filled with ‘Comforting Old» “If any of them thieves of cattle-punchers git gay, stand ‘em off if you can; shoot 1f you must; but if you lay out one of the varmints, hit the high places only for the railroad. There ain’t even second-rate justice for a sheepman in these parts.” This was his parting blessing. But it was some time before the shepherd “came to” enough to think of his words, In the gunny-sack was a water-bottle, bacon, coffee, baking-powder, flour, a coffee-pot, and a pan that could be used for frying bacon or baking biscuits. Over the first ridge of hills the sheep began to feed: they were moderate in their movements, Jerry kept them | well in bounds, and the Easterner lay down and tried Bi to determine just how miserable he was. A young fellow on a spanking horse rode swiftly by. . He was bronzed, and handsome, flaunting a red neck- erchief, tied loosely behind, and wearing heavy “chaps.” A silver-mounted Colt swung at his hip, and coiled from his heavy saddle was a horsehair rope. The miserable shepherd knew him for a cattleman at once, although he was not out of his teens. ,He looked scornfully at the ragged figure on the grass. “Hello!” The man in the grass nodded. “You one of old Todd’s herders?” The man in the grass nodded. “New, ain’t yer?” The man in the grass nodded. “Sheep-herdin’ affect: manded the youngster, Then he pulled up suddenly. he said. your talkin’-apparatus?” de- with studied politeness, and handling the butt of his gun suggestively. The man in the grass only nodded again ; but. he care+ fully showed the entire length of his own FCVO GR aad the muzzle covered the cowboy. “Huh! What’s your name?” finally demanded the youthful cattleman, seeing that here was a new breed of sheep-herder. “Stony Lonesome,”. declared the man from the East, full of disgust and rancor. Hah a “Stony Lonesome,” repeated the sheep-herder. | _ “Come.again; that’s a new one on me.” “It is on me, too,” grunted the disgusted one, and he és calmly ignored the cattleman after that. The latter seemed puzzled, then angry, then puzzled again, and finally rede away, doubting much, ay, OU for me his Be, ild ‘mM CHAPTER II. “TEASER” AND BIG POKE CAREW. “An’ you can take it from me, his name sure fits him, concluded Bob Hicks, better known at the Cormorant Ranch as “Teaser” Hicks, having related his experi- ence with Jim Todd’s new herder. S “He looked as “lonesome as a prayer-meetin’ on circus “if his brain of silence can’t be termed But it strikes me—an’ night, and ‘stony, then 1 miss my guess! it struck me then, ‘ombres, that this here Stony Lone- some is more’n he purtends to be.” more’n a sheep-herder, is he?’ drawled “Say! would that thar be “Sumpin’ Poke Carew sarcastically. possible ?’ “Couldn't be ee meaner and ornery,’ declared - somebody else around the mess-table. *“That ain’t what I mean,” grumbled Teaser, who as the baby-boy of the ranch, and the old man’s nephew, had privileges. “You're just as clear as mud in your remarks, Teas- er,’ declared Poke, the bronco-buster. “E-lu-ci-date !”’ “You can bet Poke studied fhat word up out of the dickshunary,” observed another. “Shows his college education.” “That's what’s the matter with this here Stony Lone- some, ” interposed Teaser. elie’ “These sheep-shearin’ thieves ain’t us’ally very high- spoken, But what he said sounded sort o’ cultivated.” “Must ha’ l’arnt it from the sheep,” suggested Poke. “He warn’t no us’al misfortunate cuss that’s got roped in to play nuss to them bleaters,” reiterated Teaser. I think he’d have shot admitted Teaser. “And he was no slouch, nuther. me if I’d got gay,” “That would ha’ been sure an awful takin’ off—by a grinned Poke. sheep-herder,” “An’ you so young yet, Teaser” “He ain’t jest what he purtends to be,’ declared Teaser, shaking his head. “He ain’t no reg’lar sheep- herder. An’ mebbe old Todd’s got him out here on the range fer sumpin’ besides chasin’ baa-baas.”’ “You've a fine imagination, kid,” remarked one of the other cow-punchers. 3 “Taugh, yer reckless jiggers!” drawled Poke, with mock seriousness. we're goit’ to give his hull passel of sheep an’ herders, some day, and he’s hirin’ gun-men. “Old Todd’s got wind of the whirl _ THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.% 7 oe ee Thar is i, Hey, Teaser?” “For all you know.” “I. know Tarnation Todd, all right!’ exclaimed Poke vigorously. ‘He is too ornery mean to hire good men for any work. And, then, { reckon most men in these parts knows how the folks look on these measly herd- ers and sheep-raisers. We've run out most of Todd's herders before; | reckon when we git around to it, that this here Stony Lonesome chap will hafter to go, too.” “It’s my opinion, son, that none of us will have much time to circulate around with sheep-herders jest at pres- 33 ent,’ said a hairy old puncher. “According to what I hearn tell over to the line store to-day, we'll have our own hands full shortly.” : “What’s doin’, “Bunch of Utes broke out of the reservation again, pop?” was the general demand. and are raidin’ right smart up north: Stealin’ cattle jest as though they was white men... Ever -hear o’ seth ornery methods?” ‘Say!’ cried Teaser, getting back at Poke. “I thought you an’ Buffalo Bill put a crimp in them Utes last spring ?”’ a ae : ” chuckled Poke, remembering with a grin his experience with the “T reckon. we did—in Wolf Fang’s gang famous scout when they rounded up that doughty war- chief or the Utes.” “And Wolf Fang himself r” “Bet cher life, “Hold on!” exclaimed the older puncher, who had Teaser!” brought the news. ce “He’s jest the red skunk I’m talkin’ “What?” yelled Poke, leaping up from the table. “Easy, son! you'll spill it.” “Great cats! yer don’t sit thar.an’ tell me that Wolf Fang is on the war-path again?” cried ee “He's sure rustling cattle.” “But he was a prisoner at the fort. They wouldn't let him go back to his people.” “He got away, all right, Poke. He’s got a hundred or more thieving red devils behind him, and he’s been rustlin’ a right smart lot o’ horned critters up north of us,” was the convincing declaration. “Vou and your chum, Buffalo Bill, better go an’ do said Teaser Hicks. that if Wolf Fang got away yer work over again,” “Vou kin bet, Teaser, < *See No. 353, Burrato BILL STORIES. gsarnas are ePID i SCONE ANPP FE IT SE 4 : é it warn’t Buffalo Bill’s fault,” growled Poke, going back to his supper. from the kernal at the fort, ‘‘What’s goin’ to be did about these red rustlers?” de- manded another of the cowboys. “We gotter watch an’ be ready, as the parson says,” drawled the old fellow. won't stand no funny biz with sheep-herders until them “And you kin bet the old man Injuns is rounded up. While you boys are chasin’ this here Stony Lonesome ou the range, the reds may git haf a herd of yearlin’s.’ “My, hear grandpa talk!? gibed Teaser. The news of the Ute up- rising—although it seemed a small matter—made a big Nevertheless, it was so. difference on the Cormorant Ranch. Teaser Hicks was young, and, as we have shown, was under less restraint than the other cow-punchers on his uncle’s ereat ranch. He did not put much confidence in the story of the Ute uprising. The very next day, not being actively engaged with the cattle, he “sneaked” Poke Carew’s double-barreled shotgun, and rode off after ducks, that were just then flying south in great numbers. There was a certain creek-bottom not far beyond where he had interviewed Stony Lonesome the day be- fore, and Teaser rode that way. He backed a rather fidgety pony, and, as they came down the gully toward the stream, and a whir of heavy wings announced a rise of some startled ducks, the pony jumped sideways. Teaser remembered then that his mount was one of the’ few ponies in the Cormorant’s corral that would not stand for a gun being fired over its head. CO, thunder!” muttered young Hicks. go after these ducks on foot. Well!’ And then it happened—a most unexpected and well- nigh impossible accident, considering that Teaser Hicks “had been brought up from the cradle with both guns and horses. ‘ “Tll have to In swinging himself out of the saddle with the big shotgun in his hands, there sounded another whir of wings. A duck flew almost directly overhead, and Teas- er grew suddenly excited! _ He cocked both barrels of the gun as he leaped from the pony. The pony leaped again, too, and Teaser’s el- _. bow came in contact with the pommel of the saddle. . _ When one gets a sharp blow on the “crazy-bone,” but one thing can happen. Whatever one holds falls from the instantly paralyzed fingers. THE BURPALO BIEL STORIES. . This was the present case. Teaser dropped the gun, it exploded, and part of the two heavy charges plowed through the top of the lad’s right upper arm, barely missing his chest ! The blow and the frightful burning pain almost de- prived him of his senses on the instant, and he fell writh- ing to the ground, while the pony made off as fast as he could go, Teaser lay there, the blood spurting in a way which spelled death for him within a very short time. CHAPTER Ji A RIAGC ER CR OUR bath an. The Man Who Was Up Against It began his second day as a herder of fool sheep with a grouch against everybody, including Jerry, the dog. He hadn’t come yet to understand what a godsend Jerry was to him. The sheep had begun to feed as soon as there was a streak of light over the eastern hilltops. been no breeze during the night, and the sun rose in a haze, looking like the round bottom of a copper pot in the sky. It was hot—terribly hot for so far north and the late fall. But the summers are apt to be short and dry. It is told yet of one particularly wicked. cow- puncher of the Cormorant range, who died and went where wicketl cattlemen are supposed to 20, that he came back for his blankets. He left Jerry to herd the sheep, and he lay down in the shadow of a clump of bush, at the head of a gulley, and idly chucked stones down the slope. At about the second stone there was a succession of sharp clicks re- sembling five or six quick contacts of the familiar of the black-faced minstrel, But this was no minstrel-show. “bones” No familiar black face rose above the half-burned grass. That swaying, flat, wicked countenance was the owner of the rattles, and he was angry at the disturbance of his siesta in ne Sun) The usual antidote for snake-bite was not in the gunny- sack old Todd had given him. And the appearance of the snake had only reminded the herder how much he wanted a drink! The appetite for liquor rose so strong in him that the young fool got up at once and hesitated about starting off afoot for the town from which he had been kid- There had : run, wed rely ith- > he lich ond nst Me vas 1ad 1a nd nd w= ent in ey, the re- iar ro es, he SN a ee ea, a setae erpeee eat ese rieohs aaa na Ae ete tare eee yee LTT ae TO AT eT TE THE BUFFALO naped! Then he remembered that he was still penniless, and also that he had passed his word to Todd. Suddenly, too, he heard a pony snort in the thicket covering the creek-bottom below. A pair of ducks rose high and sailed over his head as though frightened. Then came the heavy explosion of a gun—a very heavy gun it seemed, and a runaway pony dashed up the gully and passed him on the dead run. Somehow the sheep-herder felt the muscles of his throat tighten. Something had happened—he did not know what, but he was impressed with the feeling that that gunshot meant peril to some human being. He had no knowledge of the Ute troubles. Old Todd had strictly refrained from mentioning anything of the kind. | And the Eastern man had not lived long enough in the West to learn to mind his own business strictly. He heard no scream, or other sound, but he started down the gully at a double-quick without further delay. Around the first turn, and before coming in sight of the water, he found the writhing body of young Teaser Hicks on the ground. The cow-puncher did not speak, but he was not senseless. He was a-dreadful sight, and in the few seconds that had elapsed since the gun ex- ploded, the poor lad had lost a great deal of blood. The life-current spurted from the mangled arm at each pump of the heart. The flow seemed to come di- rectly from the life-source, and the poor boy’s body was bathed in blood. The sheep-herder wasted no time in questions and | doubt. He knew what to do, although the means at his hand were slight. He tore off his own shirt—the remains of a linen one —tade strips of the stronger parts, and with two sticks - formed tourniquets that in a great measure stopped the flow of blood from the main arteries. He could not pick up and tie the arteries; he had no surgical knowl- - He could do nothing further, however. edge. He was afoot and alone, miles from any habita- tion, Even the cowboy’s pony had run away, and for a moment Stony Lonesome, as he had called himself, had no idea what he could, or should, do next! To ‘see the poor lad lying so white-faced and silent on the ground—he who had been so gay on horseback only yesterday—stirred the depths of Stony Lonesome’s heart. He had not been long enough a sheep-herder for the scorn of the cattlemen to sink into his soul and \ - ahem e BIE STORIES = us rankle there. This wounded youth was a man and a brother, and Stony Lonesome desired to help him. He stood up, after doing what he could for him, and if ever the reckless sheep-herder found his heart in an attitude of prayer it was then and there! And in answer to his unspoken cry for help sounded the rattle of wheels in the distance. Down the creek was a shallow ford, with rocks imits bed over which a _— - vehicle of some kind was rumbling. What the vehicle could be, and who was with it, the sheep-herder did not stop to consider. He eormed the eun that had done this unfortunate deed, found Teaseér’s loaded shells, slipped two in the breech of the gun, and, putting the butt to his shoulder, fired both barrels in tapid succession. As fast as he could eject the shells and put in others, he fired the gun until the cartridges were used up. It sounded as though a battle were on in the gully; but — the sheep-herder did not for a moment think that possi- bly the noise might drive help away instead of attract it. When he had exploded the shells, however, there was no more rattling of wheels. It smote Stony Lonesome then that he had done more harm than good, and he started on a run through the brush to the top of the hill, hoping to find the wagon and driver before they could entirely escape. As he pounded through the brush, his breath coming in sobs, and his fear of the bloody figure on the ground behind spurring him on, he was suddenly “brought up standing” by a sharp voice and the unexpected appear- ance of the muzzle of a long-barreled Colt stuck into his face. “Hold up! What's the matter with you, stranger?’ The voice behind the gun was cool enough, and quiet. But it startled the sheep-herder mightily, to say noth- ing of the gun! i ae “Is this a race, my friend, or just practise ? Or is there a grizzly on your trail? Speak up!” The sheep-herder still panted and stammered. “Quick, sir! What’s all that shooting for ” By this time the Easterner had got some sight of his inquisitor. He was a tall, handsome man, with flowing hair and a mustache and imperial. His dress was that of a hunter, although it was half-military, too, as he wore the riding-breeches and long-legged boots of a United — States cavalry officer. oe These discoveries Stony icnesome made in a few tiently waiting yonder. - Hicks from the Cormorant. words. seconds. The command of the man, backed by the wicked look of the gun, made him speak then: “There’s a man been shot down yonder.” “A man?” Mes, sir.) “One man?” pursued the other. “I thought there was half a brigade engaged.”’ still “This was an accjent,” explained the Easterner, breathless. . “T should think so—if all those shots found him. “He’s seriously hurt “That was me.” “What? smiled and lowered his weapon. But 1 fired the shots. Are you wounded?” queried the man, who y q “No, no! I heard a wag- 39 on “Quite so. My buckboard.. The fonies are impa- Iam on my way to Fort Exile.” “Is that far? Will you take him?” cried the anxious sheep-herder. And who am I to take?” “This young fellow who is shot.” “It is far enough. “Let’s see him. How did it happen ?” queried the stranger. “He shot himself. pony, I fancy—a_ double-barreled shotgun. The gun went off as he got off his He got the charge in his arm. He’s likely to bleed to death, sir.” “Lead the way. Let’s look into this,’ said the other, and he followed Stony ee ee down into the creek-bottom. They reached the hie and speechless Teaser in a minute. “By Heaven!” exclaimed the stranger. “It’s young How did this happen, do Who are you?” you say? he added, suspiciously eying the rather disreputable-looking sheep-herder. ‘None of your business!” replied that person sharply. He wasn’t used to having his honor or honesty ques- tioned. “What’s that?” exclaimed the long-haired plainsman. At that the victim of the accident interfered—weakly. He whispered: He did and he indicated the bindings about the shattered “No row, Cody. Stony Lonesome’s all right. this,” arm. The scout and plainsman understood the whispered He nodded briefly and looked again at the sheep-herder. 7 6 | THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. whe of the long hair. “Well, what say? to Stony Lonesome—in his college days, at least; OU gpa ~*Vou'll have to give ine a lift,’ he said. “What you going to do with him?” asked Stony Lone- some. , “Fake him to: Exile and the wagon down here.” But I can’t bring those ponies “T’ll carry him myself,’ declared the sheep-herder vig- orously. He had been an athlete in his day, and rum had not He picked the youngster up tenderly, and with the long-haired man to entirely sapped his physical forces. part the bushes for ‘him, strode up Be hill toward the waiting buckboard. ce pe The Easterner was already spattered with the blood of the wounded cowboy; a little more on his ragged clothing would not matter. But when they reached the buckboard it was at once plain to both the Easterner and the driver. of the vehicle that Teaser could never ride on the back seat alone. “And my hands are full with these blamed ponies,” declared the plainsman. “Besides, he’s got to be taken to the fort about as quick as the ponies can travel, and I can’t pick the way too carefully. What are you doing in these diggings, anyway?” ee “Herding.” “Herding what? ev ese liam. « “You seem to be too decent a fellow for that,’’ Not sheep?” grunted : Will you leave | the sheep and come?” The Easterner stated his opinion of the baa-baas in no choice language, and stepped aboard the buck- board with the wounded lad in his arms. “We'll get this boy to He’s worth more than the whole “Hit it 1p, mister!” she said. a doctor if we can. three thousand sheep.” Mebbe old Todd won't think sO,’ returned the other, grimly smiling. “That’s however ! Indeed, there was no time for reply, for the plainsman did not waste an instant. \ Stony Lonesome had no reply to this. The moment the Easterner was in the rear seat with the wounded Teaser in his arms, the driver unhitched the restive ponies, sprang aboard, and with a whoop they were off. Reckless driving had not been unknown but. this lapped over anything in that line he had ever seen! The driver must-either have had perfect confidence in every bolt and part of the wagon-gear, or have cared | little for his own lifef The four wheels of the buck- board were never on the ground at once—it was lucky if two of them made terrestrial connection at the same moment ! And this in an attempt to pick the smoothest road for the sake of the wounded youth. Every jolt endangered his life. some was bathed in it! The blood dripped steadily, and Stony Lone- Teaser finally lost conscious- ness, but his bearer knew that he still lived. The race for life was kept up at top speed. The driver spared not his ponies, or his own breath. He seldom looked around, or spoke to, Stony Lonesome. They raced on over the rolling prairie, following a trail that was almost blind to the Easterner, but which the long-haired pioneer seemed to “smell” out. There were, at least, no wheel-marks. c Suddenly, as they arrived at the summit of a long slope that led to a height rather above the other ridges in the plain, the driver pulled the lathered ponies in so savagely that they came back on their haunches and al- most toppled over upon the wagon. “Now we're in for it!” he growled, looking: off to ae southward. | The Easterner had almost been flung from his seat, burden and all. He looked out. across the rolling coun- try in some surprise. All he saw was a group of rap- idly moving specks in the far distance—horsemen, or — Indians? cattle, he could not guess which. | “For Heaven's sake, get along!” he cried. “Don’t stop here. This poor boy will bleed to death. @ a other turned a grim face upon him. “Know what them are?’ he demanded shortly. “No.” “Tnjuns,’ 3 explained the plainsman. Well, they’re not wild, are they? Any- thing the matter with them? We're not to apprehend danger from them, are we?” oe : “Don't know what you call it, partner, a said the other, with a ‘short laugh. ie ‘Those are Utes. band of Utes off the reservation, and those are the cat- tle-stealing ¢ gang that. Wolf Fang brought out with him. ‘That’s -Wolf. Fang. and his red imps, and. we're in. for {iis * trouble, as sure as 5 you’ re a ea high! FHE BUPRALO There’ S only one : BILL STORIES. CHAPTER IV. THE AMAZON ON HORSEBACK. He who called himself Stony Lonesome. had long since decided that he was a fool! To come out of the East, spend. all his money in Western barrooms: and gambling-dens, endanger his health and his salvation in leading the life he had, proved his status in society. He had told himself all this the.day before when he was plodding after the sheep and dodging rattlesnakes. Now, with a band of savage Indians in sight, and every chance of being killed and scalped by them, Stony Lonesome was more than ever convinced. that he was a mush-head ! ) The thought of abandoning the wounded youth, each taking one of the ponies and trying to escape from the coming reds, entered: the mind of the Easterner no more than it appealed to the sense of the long-haired plains- man—and that was not at all. : In his own way, the college-bred young fellow was quite as brave as the scout and Indian-fighter. He did mot know how to fight this new peril, but he was just as ready to be shown! _“Whatll we dor’ he demanded. “I’ve got a $ix- shooter.” 7 tae ao “Huh! Id feel better if you had a Gatling gun,’.was the response of the driver of the buckboard. De you think they see us?” ve we “Don’t think anything about it. I Bhat ie do! “And how far are we from the fort?’ i “Too far to get to it without having a brush with those rede “Are you sure?” ae “Confident! i “Then we must fight, ‘must we?” pursued the Eastern- er, with a coolness that really amazed his companion. | “Either fight or bé w iped out.” 1 prefer fighting.” yl reckon you do, young fellow; you seem the right sort. ‘Let’s see what chance there is for me.’ “And don’t forget this poor fellow. I’m afraid he is 33 in a serious condition,’ said Stony Lonesome, indicating the cowboy in his arms. > 7% - te a es “Tm thinking’ of him—and of us,” erowled the other. He had been standing up in the buckboard, holding in the champing -ponies with one hand; and» viewing the Jandscape. The «moving fi~ures in the distance were rap- ‘ # : : : : idly nearing them—-growing larger every moment...-~. SS ee fee BUFFALO Stony Lonesome. cold now see their head-dresses of feathers trailing in the breeze. They bore feather-tipped lances, too, and their fleet ponies scurried over the plain like the wind. a Evidently the war-party of Utes were freshly mounted, and they numbered a full score, as the Easterner saw. On. their part, the whites. “were. burdened with a wounded man, their ponies were winded, and, although the scout had a repeating rifle and two pistols, the East- erner. possessed nothing but a revoiver. “And not a. shelter. in sight!” exclaimed. the long- haired man, in final desperation. “It’s our game to keep moving, then.” “They ll catch us in a ew minutes.” “Indeed, they will.” _ “Why, hang it! we're as good as dead,” growled Stony “What's the use of fighting?” Lonesome. : “T never propose to go to the happy hunting-grounds 9 - without taking several. reds along with me,” declared the other grimly. “And a good motto is: ‘Never say die!’ you hold these lines?’ Come! we'll fight to the last, young fellow. ° “Drive, do you mean?” CA ES. up to the last gasp!” And make those ae go. like kildee—right “How can I—with this poor ad on me? | “Ease him down. That’s the way. Now, clutch: him firmly between your knees, I'll.pass you the reins. when you’re ready. Can you attend to the ponies and leave _ me free to pay my compliments to the red rascals as they ‘come up? I’m something of a shot.” : “But “That’s our best chance. One man against twenty?” Here! Catch hold and yell ‘keep straight on into the wind’s to the ponies ; eye. There isn’t any road, so you can't lose it. Only keep on!” Keep on, deed With the senseless youth between his knees, the mad ponies [Nees at the reins, and the buckboard pitching © like a cock ground toward the buckboard as though they intended to ride it down. “Start °em up!’ commanded the scout. “Never give the enemy the advantage in an open place like this by keeping still. We've got to shoot them on the wing, and they.can have the same chance at us. Keep mov-' ing—that’s Gur only chance. Never mind if tney are coming head on. They won’t keep in that formation long.” Which last was very true.. He well knew that no In- dian attack would be made in a solid phalanx. The Utes soon began to spread out, each riding his best, and the fastest ponies, naturally, bringing their riders ah head of the others. | As before, the long-haired scout stood upright, braced himself “in the swaying carriage, and began with the seven-shot rifle. He picked a painted devil off. his horse at a distance from the end of his rifle-barrel that seemed fairly marvelous! . And the first of their number that tailed off his pony made the reds waver. They hated’ to come to close quarters with such a shot as this white man. Another of the rifle-balls caused a brave to fling him- self forward cn his pony’s neck and «cling there with both arms, while ‘the steed bore him we the: ra field. his made the Indians the more uncertain. But, as they chanced to have tried to cut across the direct path of SALVE Ae eR ee TH: BUPEALO the red’ still came closer and closer together. ‘The scout dropped his. rifie-and seized his. small guns But the redskins ‘were still too ‘far away for suc- ‘He held his fire, and the Utes plucked up spirit, and, with renewed again, cessful shots from such sma.l weapons. war-whoops, faced the charge and closed in on the whites! oo The sheep-herder felt that their last moment was close at hand. He never forgot the helpless lad at his feet, but he believed that his own life and that of the scout, as well, was forfeit to the savages within the next few seconds, The panting ponies ran on—but hardly able to keep their feet now. They passed a-close copse at the bottom of a smooth coulée, and then a most wonderful and: un- expected thing occurred. Out from behind the thicket; as though waiting for them to arrive and for this adventure, rode a single fig- ure, which faced the redskins as coolly as though they were so many ciildren’ at play. The mount was a superb gray. stallion, caparisoned as fancifully as a horse in a circus. The reins were fringed, the buckles bits . stamped leather, and, everything was and of silver, the saddle-skirts of as polished and ornate as possible. Even at such a moment ‘as this, the sheep-herder saw these surprising facts; but he noted another and more amazing point. Line ek The figure astride the gray stallion, and which tode out SO calmly to face the Indians, was a woman | She. was dressed in a hunting-costume of Cee and it was as much ornamented as her steed’s parapher- nalia.. She wore a broad-brimmed hat, under which her long hair was hidden. : But that she was a woman there could be no doubt! This Amazon rode quietly into the’open, a revolver in each hand. Over her shoulder was slung a rifle, too, the silver trimmings of which flashed in the sunlight. Her horse seemed to obey by word of voice. He swung sharply to face the onrushing reds-as the buck- board dashed past; at the moment the scout’s last shot had been expended, and the Utes still. rushed on. Her high, piercing voice uttered a battle-cry that was plainly known to the -réds. ~The Amazon rose suddenly in her stirrups. And then hér gtns Pee as Pale as” -shot fall from-a tower. . the buckboard’s route-to Fort Exile, the. white men and vanced with the rifle, firing as he came. BIEL STORIES. “Facing the reds alone, the woman. warrior shielded the retreat of the buckboard and held off the astounded Indians. CHAPTER V. MISS BURKE. But the situation was too uncertain for the sheep- herder to spend much thought upon the surprising figure the woman made. . She was holding up the Indian raid at precisely the instant help was most needed. The scout’s. weapons were empty again, and at a bad hurdle one of the ponies slipped, and, being weakened, J could not recover his feet. He went to the prairie in a tangle of straps, kicking and squealing. © _ )) Look out for the kid,” ad- yy vised the scout, who had snatched up the rifle and was “Never -mind:-the horse. rapidly filling its magazine with cartridges. He seemed not at all disturbed by the appearance. of the woman on horseback. Such rescue seemed common- place to him, or else he gave no thought at the present moment to the surprise. The Indians had swerved away, but came back in a half-circle, eager to attack both the party at the buck- board sand the woman on the gray stallion. The latter dropped her still smoking but empty pis- tols into her belt-holsters, and drew from the saddle a pair of even heavier guns—but quite as ornate, Stony x Lonesome saw, as the first pair. These barkers she turned loose on the redskins with perfect sang-froid. They bit as well as barked, too; they did serious damage in the Savage ranks. The scout had sprung from the buckboard and ad- The Indians gave away again, and at their last break the woman on horseback seized her own rifle, which was likewise a re- ‘peater, and the bullets from the magazine- -o1n followed ‘the terrified warriors for yards—until the magazine was empty ! The Easterner, who had turned sheep-herder, and called himself “Stony Lonesome,” saw. this unexpected ~ end of the battle with a feeling that it must be all a dream—or a scene in a play. Then he looked down and saw the senseless and bleeding boy at his feet, and re- hi alized that there was something grimly realistic about the affair. He saw the scout fill his rifle-magazine again, while re id d it > ne peas) sn se foc aR Sle eC ela ent THE -BUFFALO the big gray charger brought the Amazon back to them at a gallop. _ “Well, Miss Burke, you. certainly did the friendly thing that time,” the breeze that had sprung up. remarked the scout, baring his head to “We needed you badly.” “Glad to be of service to you and your mates, Buf- falo Bill,” returned the lady, and not until then did the sheep-herder realize that he had been in the company for some time of this famous border character. “And I’m certainly some surprised to he you in this place,” observed the plainsman. cand: E you *“T’m driving this chariot,” Where is your horse, Buffalo?” returned Cody. “The out- fit belongs to Captain Caverly at the fort ehort Exile e” “The same.” é “You’re bound in that direction, then?” queried the strange woman. rider. “T am: And owing to this wounded lad I’ve picked up, Id like to make it quickly. 99 it, though,” and Buffalo Bill looked ruefully at the mus- tang still tangled in the traces on the ground. “The redskins got him, did they?” asked Miss Burke, riding. nearer to where the sheep-herder still half-held the bleeding Teaser in his arms. “No. He’s a Cormorant boy. Was hunting, or some- Gun went off and almost blew elo has pilgrim here caught mé on the fly, and we brought him thing, with a shotgun. 39 his arm with it. Nasty business,” said the scout. this far”. ‘ 99 “He’s in a bad way,” said the woman, eying the pallid face of the unconscious cowboy. ele is'.that!” “The poor boy!” she repeated, showing the first wom- anly attribute Stony Lonesome had observed in her manner. She was a singularly handsome woman in.a bold way; but her face was hard and the lines about her mouth grim. | “lf I can get these fo on ee legs we may do it,”’ said Cody, going to the fallen mustang. “No. I’m with a party of scientific sharps,over yon- der a couple of miles. I wouldn’t jaunt that boy farther, if I were you, Mr. Cody. I'll ride over and make the doctor come here. The Injuns won’t return.” “Say ! that would bela godsend for young Hicks, ” de- clared the scout. om se wines mtr, “osm nn tte ep etme ten geese ceri tempest Lear sees ~ Seay 8 It don’t-look much ‘like . BILL STORIES. “T’ll have trouble with the doc—and with his wife. ; Faugh! she’s a little fool. I came with the party be- cause she was afraid to go alone with so many men— and because Colonel SteHe insisted. These sharps are big people at Washington.” She wheeled her big gray and spurred off over the ridge’ without further word. The sheep-herder stared after her in amazement. -~“Who under the canopy is that woman?” he de- manded, as Cody busied himself about the traces and straps that held the fallen pony. “We don’t ask such questions in this country, pil- 39 grim,” returned Buffalo Bill, grimly smiling. “But you called her by name?” “I called her by the name she once gave me.” “Miss Burke?” “That’s what! But the boys call her Calamity Jane— Jane Burke she says her name is.” Why, I’ve heard of her. She is no- “Calamity Jane! 9? torious “Vou'd better not call her either of those names, mis- Tee advised Buffalo Bill. “She doesh’t like the nick- name the Deadwood crowd give her, and she might take serious objection to being termed ‘notorious,’ too. And when Miss Burke takes umbrage, she usually follows it up with some gunwork. She’s quick on the draw, too!” “Such a woman!” murmured Stony Lonesome. . “She’s not of a breed that finds favor in the East where you come from, that’s sure. And don’t go out of your way to tell her you're herding sheep. She's in government employ now, but her temper is uncertain, and her heart is with the cattlemen,’ added Buffalo Bill. CHAPTER VI. ADRIFT WITH THE HERD. indeed. lay breathing lightly, and Stony Lonesome dared not That was a serious waiting time, Teaser “move from his seat. @ the incidents’ of the past few minutes raced through the Easterner’s mind, seemingly a horrid nightmare. A couple of hundred shots A been exchanged he- tween the scout and Calamity Jane Burke on’ one side, ‘and the redskins on the thes The sloping side of the ridge was dotted with several dead Indian ponies. But the whites were unscathed, and the Indians had disap- rere ne am rear nohbae tenon sete pam Stata Ahn Aire al th tui ip nana a Se pli Ay one ee j i ee - was an odd situation. 12 , Pe BE BUFFALO 4 peared beyond the horizon-line. It really seemed ridicu- lous that one man and a girl should have bested and driven off that gang of reds. The sheep-herder was so jarred from the rough ride, however, that every tooth in his head felt loose! There was something mighty realistic in that feeling, at least. Buffalo Bill managed to get the pony up; but he was Jame, and his mate was in almost as bad a shape. With- out Calamity Jane’s promised help there really would have been no hope of getting Teaser to the fort in time. In half an hour she appeared. She brought a led horse, the bridle tied to her own charger’s bridle; and the led horse car- And the strange woman did not fail them. ried the most miserable-looking man who ever rode on the Western plains. | He was a black-suited individual, with side whiskers, and eye-glasses that bobbed off at the end of their black string every few yards, and a complexion as healthy- looking as a piece of moldy cheese. That he was some scared there could be no doubt at all. If you had crept up behind him and shouted “boo!” in his ear, he would have swallowed his false teeth for the fright it would have given him! | “Those fools had heard the racket,’ explained Calam- ity Jane, ‘and the doc here didn’t fancy coming over. . And his wife is in the hy- So we'll let the doc operate, and then go back He doesn’t like Injuns. strikes. | to bring his wife out of her swoon.” That the female scout had little sympathy for the That she had little pity for the weaknesses of the male sex, too, weaknesses of her own sex was thus shown. was likewise evident. She had forced the doctor over to the wagon with a pistol presented at his head—not the usual method of bringing a physician to his patient. The little man was a.good one at his profession, how- He saw what was needed, and he selected the When once assured that the untamed redskins were not in sight, but that a needy €VeCr. Easterner for his assistant. brother was, the scientist regained his self-command. They worked over poor Teaser for an hour. Buffalo Bill and the strange woman stood by without being able to assist much’ .This work was up to the skilled weak- ling from the halls of science, and the college-bred _ sheep-herder, who understood about such things. It. I “Your tourniquets saved the boy’s life, sir,” declared the doctor. “No doubt of that.’ | a BILE STORIES. The race for life in the buckboard, and the battle with the Utes, were dwarfed in his eyes beside the simple work of the man who knew how to’stop the broken artery. Poor Teaser Hicks would never be a success as a cowboy again. The arm had to come off at the shoul- der—or a few inches below it, rather. The doctor had brought his tools and everything necessary, and when young Hicks’ eyes wearily opened, as. he lay with head propped upon one of Buffalo Bill’s blankets, the stump of the wounded arm was nicely bandaged at his side. “Oh, thunder!” he murmured: . “Yer sure got my wing, doc!” and then he fainted again. They got him into the buckboard again, and Buffalo Bill said he could manage to make the ponies hobble as far as the scientists’ camp. He could rest up there be- fore being taken over to the Cormorant, and meanwhile the scout would pass the word along to the wounded boy’s mates, while he continued his own journey to Exile. This arrangement was carried out. Stony Lonesome did not seem to be wanted any further, and he slipped away. The sharp eyes of Buffalo Bill missed him, however. He called after him: : | “You are going back to your job, young man?’ “I am,” growled Stony Lonesome. “Going to stick to it?” _“VTve agreed to stay the season through.” > “Then [ll see you again,” remarked the scout. ‘Take care of yourself and look out for Injun signs.” Nobody else bade him good-by. The woman, that strange character, Calamity Jane, paid him no heed whatever, and the doctor was too much engaged with the patient to miss him, He had left the sheep he was supposed to watch twenty miles away, and he was afoot. Sheep-herders are not given horses to ride. In that they are classed with the “reptiles that crawl” is another count against them in the mind of the cowmen! Fortunately the Indians had gone in the opposite di- rection. . Stony Lonesome had his pistol and a firm de- sire to keep his contract, even though it might have been signed with old Todd when he was tipsy. And what would Todd say to his going off in this way and leaving the herd? Half the sheep might have been killed or run off during his absence. A swipe of iS re the tar-brush across a fleece does not constitute a very authentic brand. What had happened to the flock during all this time? The question drove the herder harder, and he managed ' to make his camp by the falling of dusk—but dead beat and more disgusted with himself than ever. The ridge was in shadow. Not’ a moving object ap- peared upon it that he could see. There was not a bleat from the flock! | He called for Jerry, and whistled himself dry-lipped. The collie did not respond. Possibly the dog did not know him as yet, and would not call him master. The Easterner was beat out physically. He did not _ feel that he could go any farther that night. Supper- less, he found his blanket and went to sleep—a dream- less slumber at first, but which finally became restless and unsettled, and troubled by dreams of marching Sheep. This woke him before dawn. “Those -blamed beasts have got to be found!’’ he got up saying, and when free of his blanket began to shake in the chill wind that had blown down from the moun- tains during the night. __ The weather had certainly changed. The breathless air, hot and stifling, had changed to a nipping wind. The temperature had fallen full fifty degrees since the day before! | : He knew the general direction in which the sheep had been drifting when the explosion of Teaser Hicks’ gun But he likewise had been told that there was nothing to be depended on had so startled him the day before. in the supposed direction of a drifting mob of sheep. With a storm they would drift like a helmless ship; if there was a hot wind they would put nose to it and travel in that direction. This keen air might be at their backs; but Stony Lonesome did not know. He had some success in fol- lowing the foot-marks of the marching herd, however. They had spread over the range, crossing and recross- ing their own trails a dozen times; three thousand and more sheep can make a whole lot of hoof-marks in a day. The herder, however, kept steadily on, and about noon faint bleatings in the distance encouraged him. He sur- mounted a rather rough ridge of land, and there looked down. into a steep-sided gulch. It was an extensive ‘basin, and evidently had but one easy outlet. That outlet was the broadened mouth of the gulch. THE BURPALO BILL SIORIES.. The sheep had evidently grazed about all the vegetation there was in the gulch, and they desired to make a break for new pastures. But there was the faithful Jerry, panting, his tongue lolling, his coat muddy and torn, running back and forth , across the mouth of the gulch, holding the whole herd in check! He had evidently penned them into this place during the night, or on the previous evening, and in his dog- gish mind considered it the easiest place to keep them until their human shepherd appeared. : Stony Lonesome felt splendid relief. The mob of sheep looked about as large as when he left them. He strode down the hillside, and Jerry welcomed him with a bound and sharp yelps of delight. The intelligent beast knew that he could give over his responsibility now to the master. That master lacked both the wisdom and the experi- ence of his four-footed ally. He allowed the sheep to It had been the dog’s instinct that taught Jerry to refuse to allow the sheep drift out of the sheltered glen, to move on. But he looked to Stony Lonesome for orders now, and that unsuspicious person merely counted the sheep as they passed him, and found to his delight that few if any had strayed during his absence. The mob drifted out upon the plain. The cold wind —now rapidly rising in speed and growing colder, whipped them fiercely when they were once exposed. Stony Lonesome did not realize this catastrophe until he, with Jerry, were out on the open plain, too! The sheep scarcely stopped to feed. In storms they are determined to go with the wind, and will not seek shelter. This sudden autumn zephyr had swooped down from Canada, and it blew harder with every mile they traversed. Under such circumstances the herd would drift along, if left to its own devices, until the sheep dropped down of exhaustion and died on the hillsides. A sheep is said to be the biggest. four-legged fool on earth! It was the duty of the herdsman to head off these wanderers and drive them to shelter behind some hill, or in a coulée. Jerry had known his business better than his master; now it was Jerry who turned the tide of mutton and saved old Todd many a hundred-dollar bil'. Certainly Stony Lonesome could not claim the credit of saving the sheep. T4: THE BUPPALO Sore-footed and lame as Jerry was, he darted away at the first command, and stopped the drift of the foolish herd. Providence supplied a rocky covert for them. It was nightfall again, however, before all were sheltered in this pocket, and by that time the wind was icy cold and howling like a banshee. Stony Lonesome was miles from his base of supplies. The sheep had found little to eat; he had nothing; Jerry caught a gopher, or some other small animal, and crunched its bones outside the circle of the herder’s fire. The loneliness fell upon Stony Lonesome’s heart again.. A brush with the savages would have been wel- come under these depressing circumstances. He was not so bodily wearied as he had been the previous night, and therefore could not sleep. And he spent a most miserable vigil by the camp-fire. CHAPVER Vils THE MAN WHO WORSHIPED A HOLE IN THE GROUND. Somewhere toward morning Stony Lonesomé came out of his dozing with a start, leaped to his feet, and clutched his pistol tightly. Some sound—some fearsome sound—had startled him. What it. was he could not tell, but it had left him shaking—and not with the cold— and with his limbs sweating. 15 It seemed as though; in the distance, a moaning cry was dying away, yet the sound must haye. been very near, or very loud, in the first place, to have startled him so. He listened, and waited, and finally, becoming more calm, sat down again.. No sooner was he sitting, how- ever, than up rose the sound again, and this time he dis- tinguished it clearly. It started afar off—seemingly—than approached, or increased in voluthe, with the speed of an express-train, and then tapered off again, as before, and was lost in the distance. Where it came from he could -not imagine. Wher it was loudest it seemed to be in the air all about him—on every side! He had bounded to his feet again. being nor animal made the noise, he was sure. And he Neither human was far too sane and level-headed to believe in the su- pernatural. At least, he had not believed in it before this time! BILL STORIES. The third repetition of the sound was fainter, but it f was quite as awe-inspiring. The sheep began to bleat and moved restlessly ; but the actions of Jerry, the doz, were the most incomprehensible. From his reading, Stony Lonesome knew that any inexplicable sound or incident, especially anything sug- gesting spirits, or so-called ghosts, affected dogs strong- ly. Why did not Jerry come to him, whine, crouch at his feet, and hide his muzzle under his coat, thus show- ing fear of the supernatural sound? Or if it denoted the approach of peril, why did not the dog stand erect, his neck-hairs bristling, and answer the growling with growling of his own? 7 Jerry did none of these things. He woke up, stretched himself, cocked his ear at the noise, wageed his tail a bit at his master, and then yawned hugely and settled I down to go to sleep again! “That sound is no unusual thing to Jerry,” muttered the sheep-herder, and found himself at once vastly re- | lieved. : ‘The gruesomeness of the noise was not to be over- looked, however. Each time that it was repeated it sent a tremor through him for the nonce. As it grew light in the east he climbed the hill and found that, with the coming of dawn, the wind had changed. The sting of cold had gone out of the air, too. The “snap” was over, and that day the sheep fed in peace. ~ He and Jerry started them back toward that part of the range where they had been grazing when. the drift began. It was a hilly country over which they ranged that day. y | The dog had the sheep well in hand; and nothing seemed to disturb them as they grazed. Stony Lone- some kept at one side, and to the rear of the flock, where he could view most of them from the hilltops he climbed. If any strayed, a word to Jerry sent that intelligent’ animal off at a sharp lope to round up the flock. Now and then the sound which had so startled him echoed through the hills; but. fainter now. Perhaps that was because the wind had decreased in velocity, and the noise did not reach him. They came out on the verge of a long and smoother slope at last, and there, it being verdure-clad, the flock spread out and fed in peace. There was grazing for two days in sight. | With little to do, and leaving Jerry to watch the flock, leat los, any ug- 1S = 1 at OW - the the hed ia fled ared EG: NCES sent and had air, fed t of drift ized hing one- ack, tops that the him that | the ther flock for the amateur shepherd ventured out of sight of the sheép. There was a part of the slope heavily wooded, and be- yond the high rocks rose, studding the foot of the moun- tain itself. Far, far above, and in the distance, the © “mountain-tops were already snow-capped—indeed, some of them might be thus capped all the year around for all he knew. ' He entered the wood, hoping to pot a quail or even the more common, but toothsome, rabbit—he was a good shot with the pistol—to satisfy the cravings of an appe- tite that had not Has properly appeased for thirty-six hours. Suddenly he found himself wltwe in a path—an ‘actual trail worn in the soil. It must have been an an- ‘cient road, for it was, in places, almost knee-deep. The surprise of this caused Stony Lonesome some per- turbation. A bridle-path, or even a wagon-road, would not have surprised or startled him so much; but this smacked of Indian life. It must be an old Indian trail, for it was too deeply worn to have been made by animals going to and from a waterine-place. He stepped out of the marked trail very quickly, and ventured into the shelter of the brush. There he felt safer, Possibly no other human being had followed the | trail saving himself, for months, and it might be months The fright he had so recently undergone, because of the Ute cattle-rustlers, again before another would do so. was still important in his eyes. ’ He was about to push through the thicket and make for the open again, when he actually heard, a step which he knew must be that of a person approaching. No animal would make that sound, and, besides, the noise was of some one coming “up wind.’ A wild animal would have,scented him, he knew, and turned tail. Stony Lonesome crouched low and waited, the pistol in his right grip, and cocked. He had seen enough of ‘ life in this Western land to realize that the man who has the first shot usually wins, whether he be in the right or in the wrong! Up along the path strode the man who had startled him. He knew it was a man who came, although at fitst he only saw the person from the knees down, through an opening in the brush. These legs were dressed in untidy buckskin leggings, with moccasins for the feet, and they strode along at a slovenly slouch. Had Stony Lonesome been versed in - THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. the West and its wood-lore,- he would have ‘discovered other matters from this first sight of ‘the lower extremi- ties of the man. Fitst he would have known that he was not a white man. Rather, the legs were the legs of an éndian. The approaching figure toed in, and it takes several genera- tions to teach a redskin to toe out like a “walk-a-heap,”’ as they called the infantry soldiers of Uncle Sam. But soon the rest: of the man’s body came into view, and explained as much about him as the observer could then know. He was a strange-looking, much-wrinkled, fat-faced Indian. He was in half-tribal and half-civilized dress. At least, on the top of his greasy black hair he wore a plug-hat, with several feathers sticking in. the hat- band, like that character of Yankee Doodle, famous in song and story! He wore Indian-made hunting-dress, but, likewise, an officer’s sash around his waist, in which were stuck a hatchet and knife, and from which hung his pouch for tobacco and another for feed or ammunition. He carried a sawed-off musket, but the lock was bright and polished, and looked as though he might have used the weapon recently, and could easily do so again. | Stony Lonesome was. tempted once to shoot him wlnile he had the chance and inquire into his antecedents aiter- ward. But, then, he had the Easterner’s belief in that fallacy that there are really good Indians’ who still have the breath of life in their tawny bodies! This man might be friendly to the whites. Stony Lonesome shrank from killing a human being unnec- essarily. But he was mighty curious as to what the man was doing here, where he came from,.where he was go- ing, and who he might be! Curiosity was rife in Stony Lonesome’s mind. He could not seé this strange Indian go out of sight and out of mind:as well! - Making sure that he was not the leader of some band of savages out on a raid, the sheep-herder fell in behind the old man and crept along the path he followed. The Indian was several rods ahead, and he walked so easily’ that several times -Stony Lonesome believed he had halted, or had left the trail. The old man seemed to have no suspicion that he was being followed, however, and kept st traight ahead—or as near straight as the o'd path would allow. ‘That wound considerably among the boulders, but rose sen he Oe tee ah Bi SESS reer EE i a ye os THE BUFFALO steadily through the forest. The hill grew steeper as they advanced. The sheep-herder did not know what trap he might be stepping into; yet he continued to ad- vance. Suddenly he was aware of the low, moaning sound that had first announced the beginning of the strange noise of the early morning. It did not rise loudly this time, but it was almost a continual murmur, and he seemed to be advancing toward it. “Can it be made by human beings, afterall?’ he queried in his mind as he proceeded. “Do the Indians make it? Is it a Call for the tribe to meet? What kind of a convention am I likely to be up against, anyway re The remembrance of the savage Utes as they whirled cn pony-back toward the plunging buckboard, endeavor- me to. kill the occupants of the vehicle, was still vivid in Stony Lonesome’s brain. Suppose he should fall in with more of these wild redskins—these untamed sav- \ ages? ve : _ Uncertainty was worse than exact knowledge in this case, however. The old man before him did not seem to notice his pursuit, and the sheep-herder was emboldened. The whining, moaning, Windy noise was almost con- tinual. It rose and fell several degrees in the scale of sound, but was never loud. That it had something to do with the ancient Indian’s appearance in this neigh- borhood he was sure. Once the old man~crossed an open space on the hill- side above him, and turned, as though to scan the path he had followed. Stony Lonesome darted out of sight ingly satisfied, walked on again. ‘The pursuer redoubled his efforts then, and quickly The latter had stopped at the mouth of a gully, and out of that gully came within ten yards of the old man. the strange noise seemed to come. ‘ Here the actions of the old Indian cmnazed the watch- ing white man. He removed his plug-hat and his upper garments, and even untied the knot of his scalp-lock. From one of his pouches he took raw ocher and some other pigment, and began to smear his trank and his face in some fantastic figures. | To the unsophisticated mind of the white man, the The sheep-herder knew nothing at all about the significance redskin seemed to be painting himself for war. of Indian symbols, or of their spirit-worship. The old man was soon ready for whatever perform- i bua abr oes hoe odin lbh 2 Rati pa ane pera ite erent pepe rales See ORNL and lay behind a brush-clump until the old man, ‘seem-_ Bik STORLES. ance he had in mind. He stood up very straight, his arms folded, and faced the open gully from which the murmur seemed to rise. There he seemed to mutter some charm or incantation, although the sheep-herder could hear no sound, from. his moving lips. Then, suddenly, he prostrated himself, throwing him- self flat upon his chest, and with his arms bent, worked himself forward, serpentlike, into the gully. The opportunity to still watch his incantations was too good to lose. The sheep-herder crept through the bushes, up the side of the hill, and finally found a position di- rectly on the edge of a steep descent, where he could vieweall that the old Indian did. And his present occupation certainly filled Stony , Lonesome with wonder... The redskin was on his face, like a pagan before an idol, and directly above him, in the other wall of the gully, was an oval-shaped hole not more than eight by twelve inches. This hole seemed to be in the otherwise solid rock, and it was smoothly enough made to have been the work of a stone-cutter. The prostrate figure before the hole, and the hole it- He waited. Of a sudden the mournful moaning rebegan. self, amazed the sheep-herder. There was no doubt—no doubt at all—that it came from the oval hole in the rock. The wind soughed out of that . aperture like a giant sighing in remorse! Little wonde1 that its tone, when first heard by Stony Lonesome’s: un- familiar ear, had frightened him. Thesold fhdian trembled now! He Wwriggled all over —to the ‘very soles of his moccasined feet! | The sheep-herder looked down on the strange scene in wonder. He had discovered the reason for the In- dian’s strange actions, yet the oddity of it all puzzled him, too. ; The red man was worshiping the hole in the ground— or the voice from the hole. Somehow a draft of air was forced through this vent, and the mournful noise rose and fell, according to the direction and velocity of the wind. Undoubtedly there was some sort of a cave inside this hill, with another opening. The wind entered by the other opening and was ejected through ,his small vent. | And ‘here had come this old Indian, long miles on foot by his appearance, to fall on his face and worship the spirit, or the voice, from the vent-hole! The sheep-herder felt like laughing at first. Then the earnestness of that poor, benighted old man, doubtless ~ soho tenn motes Vip Walgirasan Usie ht, his ch the mutter herder x him- vorked as too pushes, ion di- could Stony Solace. fim, in ye not ned to ye oothly ter. ole it- There ym the of that wonde1 e's. un- ll over scene he In- uzzled yund— Ss vent, to- thre ” there nother ig and iles on yorship en the ubtless SSR shivering in terror under the lash of the Great Spirit's voice, impressed the white man strongly. ‘He was about to withdraw in silence, and for more than one reason. He did not, of course, care to startle the old Indian by revealing himself; trouble might grow from that; but he felt,.too, as though hevhad no right to scoff at the untutored savage’s s worship. He crept back from the verge of the gully in ac the mournful wind whistled. He reached a covert of brush, and was about to rise to his feet and tiptoe from the place, when suddenly a pair of muscular hands seized him from behind. One fell smartly across his mouth and forced back any exclamation he might have uttered. The other seized the wrist of his pistol-hand, and made that weapon ineffective. He was helpless in the grasp of. his captor! ae OCHAPIER Vit THE MEDICINE>MAWN- The Easterner had seen some rough and exciting mo- ments during the past few days. But he had learned ‘one thing. That was, that when a man has the drop on you in the West, you might as well save your struggles, your breath, and, possibly, your life! The person who had seized him was the stronger of the two, and before he could turn his rolling eyes on the man, Stony Lonesome knew well enough that he was. mastered. Having been so intent upon the old Indian in the’ | gully, and having followed him so far, he naturally | expected to see that his captor was a redskin, too. But | it was not so. A second glance at the | rudely covered his own lips, assured Stony Lonesome | that he was the prisoner of a white man. And. evidently that man wished him, first of all, to be silent and to retire from the edge of the gully with cir- cumspection. .So he was being drawn through the brush with vigor. : : Catching a glimpse finally: of the man’s coat, and then of his nether garments, something about them seemed familiar. Stony Lonesome suddenly wrenched his head around, and looked into the handsome and smiling face of Buffalo Bill, the army scout! “Sh! admonished the plainsman, although they were now some yards from the gully. ‘pered Stony Lonesome. hand which so. THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. oe Coke cBy Jove! groaned the, sheep-herder. ‘ I thought you. were another redskin |” “Another ?” dhat s tt, repeated Buffalo Bill questioningly. I was certainly scared.” “And you've been puzzling me for fifteen minutes. What's over in that gully ¢ Indians?” “Don't you know ?”’ “I wouldn't be asking you if I did.” “Well, it’s the funniest game I ever heard of,” whis- “T’ve been following the fellow for some miles.” “T reckoned you were on some trail. I couldn’t un- derstand it,’ admitted the scout: 93. “And you've been following me? “T have. Saw you down yonder. Didn’t know who you were at first. But 1 made you out just now, and thought we'd better have a conference. Where are your sheep ?” “They're all right. Down yonder. But I caught sight of this old Indian——” ; “What kind of an Indian?” “Jove! how do I know, sir? Just an Indian. quickly asked Cody. Dressed in a plug-hat and some white garments. Or, he was.” che cas 2" “He isn't now. He’s stripped and painted himself, and he’s now down on his nose, kotowing to a hole in the ground.” Le “Doing what?” exclaimed Buffalo Bill again. “Hear that?” pursued Stony Lonesome, as the groan- ing sound rebegan. “Ah!” exclaimed Buffalo Bill. “Eyer hear it before?” Sure, “Know what it is?’ OE course.” : “Well, it scared me blue when I first heard it this morning.” he scout laughed—but ou “You're not the first one it has frightened,” he ad- mitted. ‘That hole is in the gully yonder, isn’t it? I found it once myself.” “Well, that old redskin is worshiping the ee that comes out of that hole. Thinks it’s a god, I suppose— oor devil!” Pp Buaffol Bill ae thoughtful. What the sheep-herder “said seemed to. be of moment to his mind. He finally spokes yo ~ be 18 THE BUFFALO oh here’s a deal ‘of unrest among these Utes. That ‘gang of cattle- rustlers that we have got to herd up are no more important than some other Utes, perhaps. And if this old fellow you tell of is the man I think him, I am anxious to have an interview with him.” “Surely, the old fellow is harmless enough, said Stony Lonesome carelessly. | “He’s an Tnjun, isn’t he?” - “So I told you.” ; “And he isn’t dead ace ” added Buffalo Bill signifi- cantly. “Come on. a word or two to say to you, Mr. Lonesome.” The followed, his curiosity aroused again. Buffalo Bill crept to the ace of the ely. The old Indian had disappeared. sheep-herder “Where did he leave his togs?” " demanded the scout, ina whisper. Stony Lonesome pointed down the gully. . The scout nodded, and began to creep rapidly in that direction. He was closely followed by the Easterner, and neither of them made any noise. Before they broke covert at the mouth of the gully they smelled smoke, and finally came out upon the bank at the foot of-which the old Indian—again clothed in his nondescript gar- ments—squatted, smoking a red-stone-bowled pipe. Buffalo Bill scrutinized him carefully, and nodded. He recognized and placed the old Ute. He was Kal-ma-naa—the “Feather Man” His fame as a medicine-man had once been large in the tribe; but of late years, what with the nation being split into par- ties, some of which desired to adopt the white way of living, the medicine-man’s influence had greatly de- creased. In times when the Indians were stirred up and unset- tled, however, their old rites and religious customs gain in favor; and the medicine-men then acquire more ‘influ- enice. ae \ The government had begun’ to punish and restrain the medicine-men of some tribes. They were productive of much strife and unrest, and the Feather Man had been punished once by military imprisonment. He had: seen: his tribe de- scend from a nation of warriors-and buffalo-hunters to lazy loafers about the reservation. Nobody knew the age of Kal-ma-naa; he did not know himself. He was an old, old. man. But an Indian has to be, pretty old to show as many as: as, ees possessed. I'll také a squint at him. Then I’ve “Bill softly. a pe EE he Seo ar a Sey ae Sta lap rs ITS rive Sat See BILL STORIES. Of ‘course, Buffalo Bill had no opportunity to tell these What the sheep-herder had told him aroused both the scout’s suspicion and interest with facts to his companion. regard to the old medicine-man. Now, with a glance of warning at Stony Lonésome, which the individual understood to mean that he was to remain in hiding, the scout crept down the hillside, and, after loosening the pistols in his belt-holsters, stepped — out in the open and approached the smoking Indian. One thing only betrayed the fact that Kal-ma-naa saw and recognized the white man’s approach. His old fin- gers crooked around the barrel of his sawed-off rifle, and he seemed desirous of drawing it néarer to him. But this was only a momentary movement. immediately relaxed, and he looked up, grunted : blow, Longe Hair.” es “How, Feather Man.” Buffalo Bill raked together some dry wood and kin- dled it from the embers before the squatting Indian. He acted as though he had stopped in some jaunt for a brief rest. He pulled out his own pipe, filled it, and lit the tobacco without another word > but he did not turn his - back to Kal-ma-naa in any of these transactions. The medicine-man said no word, either, and Buffalo Bill finally broke the silence when his own as was - burning well. ‘“KKal-ma-naa is a lone way from the teepees of his people,” he observed casually. _ “This is all the land of the Utes,” returned Kal-ma- naa, with a lordly wave of his hand sweeping the foot- hills in their entirety in his gesture. “But the Great Father at Washington prefers his red j children should remain in their comfortable lodges at the reservation.” The little eyes of the old Indian sparkled “Why should the Ute remain in one place? He has | always roamed where he pleased.” a “There are rations of beef and tobacco and blankets for the old men and squaws,” said the artful Buffalo “I am Kal-ma-naa. J am the great medicine-man. TI commune with the Great Spirit, who is greater than any White Father at Wash-in’-ton, I do not need to eat, And my ‘people are my care, not the care e the agent at the ioe ervation.”’ or to sleep, or to work as the white men do. His fingers a] pec —————— ae ah ee aT Sas } ees eect o die BOUPEALO. Bill SPORES, “Then why does Kal-ma-naa come so far from: his people?’ queried Buffalo Bill calmly. The old man flashed the scout a sour look. 3 “The Utes will not always be slaves. They will not Now “Oh, I know that some of the fool youngsters are out always stay in their lodges like. squaws. cavorting aiter Wolf Fang. But that’s bad medicine, Kal-ma-naa. Don’t you try it. Winter is coming. The squaws and papooses will freeze, and the braves will go hungry.” : “The Great Spirit has spoken to me—to Kal-ma-naa. T shall go tell my people what He says,” declared the | /medicine-man, knocking the ashes from the bowl of the pipe. He rose suddenly —quite unexpectedly. His athletic figure had not been stiffened by his years and _ priva- tions. He came to his feet as though a spring con- trolled him, and, as he leaped up, the short-barreled rifle came with him! His clawlike hand clutched the lock, the hammer snapped ‘back by a single motion of his gnarled finger. The weapon was’ cocked, and the muzzle was within an inch ofthe apparently unconscious scout’s back! CHAPTER LX. THE CHARGE OF WOLF FANG. A white enemy would have been likely to take no chances and fired instantly.. But the Indian is nothing if not dramatic. Old Kal-ma-naa, the medicine-man, had been strutting in the center of the stage for years. The “lime-light” was on him now, and he could not re- sist the temptation to make the taking off of Long Hair, the white scout, dramatic. But the Utes will be slaves no longer. And Kal-ma-naa will lead the “Long: Hair is the enemy of my people. way!” So he spake, and his finger trembled on -the trigger of the rifle. But the gun was heavy and the muzzle be- : gan to waver. Buffalo Bill spoke quietly: “The. Meather Manis a foe to his own people. He would bring punishment upon them. Even now he con- templates a treacherous crime—and not only he, but the Utes, will be punished for it.” The old Indian started, and his gun-muzzle wavered more. Out of the gully the moaning of the wind from the cave suddenly began again. et Wale le spc eal ny pan aos ar haecait :9° “Kal-ma-naa would kill. Long Hair, who came to him in peace. The Great Spirit would not be pleased at that, Kal-ma-naa. And the medicine-man cannot kill Long Before he can shoot his white brother, He Who Watches Above, will strike the medi- cine-man down.” Hair—not if-he tries! Buffalo Buill’s voice rose sharply as he said this. It was a long chance, for the Indian had) really ¥aught him : ( i ie, napping. But he had some confidence’ in the senge and courage of Stony Lonesome. And that confidence was not misplaced. The bushes parted above the spot, and the sheep-herder’s voice, stern and snappish, came down to them: “All tight, sir!) Wve @ot the red devil covered) (If he» crooks his finger, he’s a dead snake!’ Kkal-ma-naa showed his Indian origin by standing per-' fectly immovable, and not even turning his eyes upward. He believed the “voice from above,” however. He quiet- ly lowered the muzzle of the old rifle. “The medicine-man will sit down,” said Buffalo Bill sternly. “He will remain longer with his white brother. He will talk.” : ; Kal-ma-naa knew not how many other companions of Long Hair might be lurking in the brush. He seemed to be ambushed, and, like a sensible redskin, he bowed to the inevitable. Then in his own language, Buffalo Bill put him through such a cross-questioning as he had seldom en- dured before. The scout knew the old scoundrel inside and out.. He had long mavked Kal-ma-naa as a bad man among the reds, and believed that he had had more than a little to do with the former uprising of a portion of the Ute tribe, under the young war-chief, Wolf Fang.” This second uprising, that seemed to lead only to the raiding of cattle on the range, the wily scout believed but a forerunner of worse trouble. In this. belief Buffalo was not seconded by the com- mander of Fort Exile, or by the authorities at the res- ervation. Nor was it the first time in which the saga- cious plainsman had been at loggerheads with the mili- tary powers. After seeing the wounded Teaser Hicks to his refuge in the camp of scientists, guarded by the belligerent Ca- lamity Jane, Buffalo Bill had hurried on to Exile, there to find that report had it the revolt was spreading. eee Burrato B11 Stories, No. 353. pa aed hea ities Needs oe aaah cab Stoo a | the times.” But wiiter was coming. Indians never raid long in cold weather. The chance escape of Wolf Fang from the military corral, the colonel in command believed, had started the raiding again. Buffalo Bill, however, was a student of “the signs of He knew that throughout the Ute nation there was a general unrest, and that even the first fail- ure of the renegade, Wolf Fang, had not fatally injured his influence with all. : Wolf Fang was bold and cunning both. He seemed to be driving off great numbers of Cormorant cattle. There were many sheltered glens in the hills in which such herds could be winter-fed, and, if the cattle could be kept alive, so could the Indians who went with them! That even some of the old men were stirred to their depths by this young red raider was more than evi- dent. And here was one of the oldest and most vicious medicine-men of the tribe making a pilgrimage to the worship-seat.of the Speaking Spirit—long a noted god of the red men and plainly believing in his darkened soul that some great change was coming to the natives of the soil. _ Therefore did Buffalo Bill pump old Kal-ma-naa un- til that red rascal was as empty as a. baked-bean can, after a hungry miner has got through with it! And amid the boastings and admissions of the old medicine-man Buffalo Bill culled much information of moment to himself and to the government at Washing- ton. , Wolf Fane had entered upon a campaign of thievery and rapine that was no mere frolic of the young braves of the ‘tribe. ‘and influence. He would lead his people into some promised land, and drive back the “Yellow Eyes.” And the winter should make no difference. believed, and so he boldly admitted, When the conference was over, Buffalo Bill allowed the old scoundrel to depart—after taking away his car- tridges. He advised him, too, though that advice was probably wasted. © ne “I shall meet the young man, Wolf Fang, again,” the white scout threatened. “And when I do it will be a bad day for him, Kal-ma-naa. Tell hint that I, Long Hair, say so. And he knows—and so does Kal-ma-naa THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. Wolf Fang was still greedy for power So Kal-ma-naa . free to help in a scrimmage if there’s one started in yours | —whether the word ot Long Hair is to be believed or falthou; not!’ Bot cr: The sheep-herder had come down and listened to the Pte mostly unintelligible harangue of the scout. But he Pweathe could not but be impressed by the influence it all seemed i iested to have upon the old medicine-man. Kal-ma-naa seemed The to consider Buffalo Pill’s words as smacking of “the law a gang and the gospel.” | | fatted | vier ie old reprobate was out of sight, the scott g S The turned to the sheep-herder with a clouded face. \ drive 1 “There’s trouble brewing, young man, V'll admit it to Fon. the you, for you are, I reckon, not one who is easily scared ; | ' lowere but you want to keep near camp, and if you can reach \ i But Todd, make the old scoundrel supply you with a Win- | a Phe: ci chester and a partner.” | pa | anima “So the Indians are likely to try to take sheep, too?” | The “Pooh! The Indians haven’t learned to eat sheep a 4 and tl yet,” laughed the scout. “But they may be after you. | and hi No white man is going to be safe around here until there | ‘ ing Ov is a general round-up of the red scoundrels. .And that’s | | | severa got to be arranged mighty soon.” | | of me “Can't the soldiers manage the Indians?” “There are twenty reds to every soldier on the fron- tier. As long as the reds don’t know their own strength we're safe. When some half-educated scoun- drel, like this young Wolf Fang, suspects what might be done with such odds in his hand, then the whites suffer, and the boys in blue have their work cut out for them! “Now, I’m off, Mr. Stony Lonesome. I must go | | the rounds and wake up some of these sluggish cow- men. They, and the sheep-raisers, must forget their dif- ferences for the time. The Indians are more likely to ruin the cattle-business than the sheep. “Tell Todd to give you a gun and a mate. Stand | neighborhood. But don’t go gunning for trouble with © these reds, now I warn you.” - The warning, however, was not needed by. the sheep- +4, herder. He seriously contemplated breaking his word and making a straight dash for the nearest town. He : had not been in the habit of running, however; he came : of a family who prided themselves on their honor, and, Or although he was the black sheep of that family, he could Inot cringe in the face of danger. He went doggedly back to the sheep—and Jerry. The weather continued to moderate, and he was left unmo- Hiested for nearly a week. | Then by chance, as he ‘fed his flocks” on a side hill, 1a gang of cow-punchers rode by, trailing a small herd of |fatted cattle that they were driving away to ship East. The reckless fellows, with whoop and yell, started to drive right over a part of the sheep. They set their cattle on the run, and the sheep scampered in front of the ‘lowered horns. : But the cattle were swiftest, and gerade the sheep. f The cowboys behind forced the steers among the smaller \ ’ animals. But then came the overthrow of pride! The sheep were small - but they were compact animals, , and their legs were short. They huddled together, too, | and half a dozen of the foremost steers went down, roll- ing over the flock, and, although some sheep were killed, several of the steers had broken legs and were shot out of mercy, too. , Stony Lonesome was mad—mad clear through. He f}) was but one man Against nearly a dozen, but he drew his gun and raced afoot toward the mélée, with Jerry bark- ing and leaping beside him. The sheep were becoming stampeded, and there was likely to be a great loss of both sheep and steers. Suddenly over the brow of the ridge rode a tall man on a great blue-roan stallion. The horse was half-wild, and the rider was wholly so. He bore down upon the shouting cow-punchers like a tornado. What he said to them seemed to put spurs in their hides! ‘They quickly untangled the steers from | the sheep, and when Stony Lonesome arrived, the panic was stayed. Jerry rounded up the bleating sheep; but the human herder was so mad, and breathless, that he could only pant. ee er?’ demanded one of the cowmen. ‘Look what yer blame’ sheep done! the hoof.” “And that’s more than yow are, on or off the hoof!” Them steers was wuth money on LHP BUPEALO BILL STORIES. “Why donchu say something, yer ornery wool-pick- : blurted out Stony Lonesome. “Get down off that pony and let me get my hands on you! I’d make you look worse than one of those mangled sheep in short order!” Ihstantly” the cow-puncher pulled a gun, and would have taken a snap shot at the bold sheep-herder, but the big man on the roan knocked up his pistol-arm. “Keep still, Shorty!” he commanded. ‘You fellows have done enough damage. Git out with yer—you heah ?” “Am I goin’ to be talked down by a measly sheep- man:’’ roared the valorous Shorty. “You air. An’ right here an’ now, I might as well tell you fellers that fer the present there’s a truce called betwixt us cattlemen an’ the sheepmen. We got Injuns ter fight, an’ ain't got no time fer private scrimmages.” “Aw, you shut up, Poke! D’ye think yeou Cormorant fellerssown th’ hull range? Get out!’’ advised another. “I don’t own the range; but if I says ter you, Mr. Jackass Logan, yeou move yer carcass ter other fields an’ paschures new, you're goin’ ter saddle up an’ git! Am-I right?” : The valorous Poke Carew did not draw a gun him- self, but he pressed his big roan forward between Shorty and the last speaker, and looked from one to the other. The look quailed them. re “Aw, well, Poke! yer needn’t git mad,’ said Shorty. “No, I needn't; but I’m goin’ ter. Now you listen heah! Lemme tell you he risked his neck an’ fought redskins, This sheepman ain't no common cuss at that. ter save young Teaser Hicks las’ week. Hear about itr” “Thunder! is this the pilgrim?” demanded one of the other punchers, while all looked with more interest on the angry sheep-herder. “This here is Mr. Stony Lonesome, I make no doubt ”’ remarked Poke, looking questioningly at the sheep- herder. : “That’s as good as any other,” growled the Easterner. “Vou're th’ feller what rode with Teaser an’ Buffalo Bill when them Utes broke out over on the creek ridge?” Clank: , “Happy to make yer acquaintance, Mr, Lonesome,’ said Shorty. ‘I takes it all back.” 22 ce THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. “And I don’t,’ growled out the Easterner, refusing the proffered olive-branch. ‘“‘My opinion of you fellows isn’t fit for publication. And if I see another cowman in trouble, Vil let ‘him rot before I'll litt’a hand to help him!” He turned his back on the party and strode away after Jerry and the sheep. Five of his flock lay dead on the prairie, and he was sore of heart. He didn’t know Poke Carew from a hole in. the ground! He missed fire right there. He might have made Poke his friend, and Poke was a power on the range. But the cattlemen and their herd went one way, and he and his sheep went another, and he was just as lonely and miserable as he had been before. The incident bore fruit, however. It bore fruit of a most surprising nature, And in the end it showed that the despised sheep-herder was a man of observation, at least. Several days passed, and no man, either white or red, crossed Stony Lonesome’s path. Then one morning, just at daybreak, he heard heavy firing at some distance from his night’s camp. The sheep were already on the move, and it would have been well-nigh impossible to corral them in the deep coulée again. There was no vegetation left there after their night’s grazing. Besides, the\sheep-herder did not know from what di- rection the noise of the battle came, nor—this was at first—whether it was approaching or receding, With a sudden burst of whoops, shots, and yells, a horde of pony- But he was not long in doubt on that point. riders burst over the summit of a not far-distant ridge. They tore down the steep hillside, riding like: fiends. ‘There were a full score of them, and it was not many sec- onds before Stony Lonesome realized that they were not Indians! They were white men—and white men who could ride. They were undoubtedly cattle-punchers, and at first he believed they were come to attack him—a score strong! This idea was not tenable the next moment, however. He saw the men turn in their saddles, and then their — guns popped once more. Over the break of the ridge came more ponies—and this time the tossing head-dresses of redskins! And still they came—score after score of the red sav- ages! It was a sight to hold the observer breathless! The crowd of savages seemed endless. Afterward Stony Lonesome learned that less than two. hundred of the Indians were in sight at one time. They were led by the young, half-civilized chieftain, Wolf Fang, andgthey poured over the ridge and down the hill after the fleeing band of white men like a red wave! It seemed as though the affair must end in a massacre. The sheep-herder saw one cowboy pitch from his saddle and go down under the horse’s feet! Still both fugitives and pursuers tore on, while the morning air was, filled with shouts, war-whoops, and the popping of firearms! | " CHAPTER X, THE BATTLE IN THE COULEE. That the little band of cattlemen had fallen into an ambush of the reds was. plain. And that the reds rode much the fresher ponies was likewise evident. The facts of the case were, indeed, like this: Off the Cormorant range had disappeared the very day before a goodly herd of steers. Poke Carew had re- ported the loss, had gathered a bunch of herders, and twenty strong started in pursuit of the lost, or stolen, herd. ; That the latter was the true case soon appeared. In- dian signs were plenty; but the reds had been raiding in - small bands, and Poke was a daredevil, and had a score of good fellows at his back. They kept on through the night toward a break in the hills near which Stony’ Lonesome and his sheep had bivouacked. Poke’s sense told him that the red cattle- rustlers were making for this hole in the mountain wall. Dut just as dawn broke the hard-riding cowmen had ” bom raid Han; men aL but mira D ppart reac cam. PTOW It and coul Been | thar figh had stir: the the mas | the the: f mol of bar anc nes , ren Th | wh P bit bat iret aS »d 11) le ins | stirred up to a pitch of fanaticism. | render. band of: sheep, : retard the course of his charges. — come suddenly upon a great body of reds. The little raiding-party had been met by the main: body 6f Wolf Fang's gang. «They were fresh; the ponies of the white men were tired. me : a Then began a running battle that seemed to promise but one end. The whites would be wiped’ out unless a iracle intervened ! Down the hillside into the coulée swooped the little lparty of cowboys, losing two of their number beiore they freached the bottom. Pouring over the,brink of the ridge came the wave of savages, anda shower of lead and. ar- frows was driven down at the devoted little band. It was a terrifying situation. They, dared not. halt and try to stand off the horde of red: warriors, .. They could only beat on their tired horses and return the lead- fen hail as best they might. Certainly the bullets of the white men sped more true than the shots of the Indians; but Wolf Fang did not fight like most red leaders. He had learned some tactics from the white men, who had partially educated him. Besides, his warriors were They charged with the devilish determination to ride down the little band of the enemy and wipe them out completely ! The reds gathered like carrion-crows on the ridge, | massed their forces, and then, with Wolf Fang riding in the van, their spear-pennants streaming in the wind, and | their head-dresses trailing out behind them, the whole mob rode down the long slope. There was no shelter for the whites. The great flock of sheep was entering by the only cut in the coulée’s banks. To force their tired horses up the farther side and escape before the redskins reached them was a feat next to impossible! The cowboys all saw this. But none thought. of sur- They loaded and fired as steadily as veterans. They used guns and Colt revolvers—anything with which they chanced to be armed. And many a redskin bit the dust! : The whites bore off a little toward the approaching Stony Lonesome had done nothing to And now, having re- THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. 23 covered his first surprise, he wished to do pone to stop them. | : Instead, with a sudden idea in his anxious mind, he did just the opposite. In other words, he shouted to Jerry, bade him scurry after the flock, and, whooping and yelling himself, started the sheep in a wild stampede along the bottom of the coulée! There were so many of the sheep, and he was so far at their tail, that Stony Lonesome was entirely out of rifle-shot—from the Indians, at least. He was nearer to the racing whites; but he paid them no attention—not just then, His: object, however, was plainly understood by the . cowboys, and a faint cheer came across the coulée as he ran down after the bleating sheep. Old. Todd would have had a crazy fit could he have beheld the work of. his herdsman during the next few moments. Jerry and he drove the mob of sheep directly between the bands of red and white antagonists ! Down charged Wolf Fang and his gang of cattle- thieves and cutthroats, but before they could crass the bottom of the sink in the hills, the close mob of bleating sheep separated them from the fugitive cowboys. The reds tried to override the sheep as the cattlemen had a few days before. Their ponies stumbled and fei! just as the steers had stumbled and fallen ! Then the reds shot into the fleecy backs of the sheep. They killed their places. 3ut scores more took The oncoming aap valloped over their dead mates, The dog behind was more fearful to hee than the Indians and their ponies. Meanwhile the cattlemen swept up the other slope, every moment of delay carrying them farther toward safety. The three’ thousand sheep lay between the scores of yelling Indians and the escaping whites, and for twenty mintites made an impassable barrier! ~The tired ponies of the cowboys seemed to take a new. lease on life. Instead of using their guns, the white men used theit quirts, and in five minutes were over the ridge and out of sight. ae Stony ‘Lonedome, having done the trick, delayed not on the order of his own going! 24 He was afoot, and he had no shelter of consequence, -and one man can hardly be expected to face two hun- ca : es _ oo He saw the tangle of redskins aid sheep, a He was satisfied. He ran back through the pass by which he had driven the sheep into the coulee. | ; He did not know himself just how long the mob. i Indians were tangled up. ‘But before he could reach the forest on the other side of the ridge, he knew that the whooping devils were on his trail. a They had seen that Stony Lonesome had forced the shéep in their A part of the mob were bent on vengeance. path, and he was to be made to suffer for his act! What had become of the cow-punchers Stony Lone- some did not oe They had skedaddled, and left him to his fate. What was he but a sheep-herder, anyway ? The man ran on, panting for breath, Stainine every nerve to reach Seen ihe meager shelter. of the wood he The His last ounce of fore being overtaken by the bloodthirsty. savages. sweat rolled from his brow and limbs. strength was being put forth to bring him to covert. One glance he flung back over his shoulder. Ful) half -a hundred warriors were riding him down! It was the hare and the hounds—and the panting hare A. few shots had already been fired. Suddenly a oy of ar- knew that te be caught ‘meant a bloody death: rows were driven toward him. Fortune blessed the fugitive for another moment. first flight of arrows fell short, as had the bullets. Then the brush was right ahead. Behind it were the thick trees—too close together for ; a man to ride between them very far. oe a f A wild whoop rent the air, and the Easterner felt the sting of something in the calf of his right leg. It did not halt him, and not until later did he know whether it was a bullet or an arrow that had nipped him! — Then he plunged headlong into the brush—like a swim- mer breasting and diving through a curling breaker. “He fell on his face. He was scratched and, torn by briers and brambles. / But there was worse 2 than that i in store behind, | THE BUFFALO. The BILL STORIES. So he picked himself up and ran on. and parted the branches with some care. He did not wish to call his pursuers upon him. by any untoward noise. 50 ie pond his way for some minutes, and at iast fell into a ditch, which was not entirely dry, and there lay, breath- less and exhausted, unable to go farther until he a rested. CHAPTER XI. A FOUR-FOOTED TRAITOR. The frightened sheep-herder lay hived up f the ditch for half an hour. Then he crept out and slunk deepes into the wood. He had not heard a sound from either enemy, On frend = Nor had a bleat of a sheep, nor the sharp yap of Jerry, smote upon his ears. The battle in the coulée was evidently ended. The cowboys had either escaped, or the Indians had taken their trail and caught them so far away from his hiding- place that he could not hear the sounds of further battle. What had become of the collie and the sheep he did not know.’ | he did not doubt. That many of the first-named had been killed Todd Just at present, however, Stony Lone- many, and had wantonly killed others, of course. would be wild. some had little care for Todd. - He was out to save his own ‘hide—if he could. because he heard nothing in the wood, he was not>at. all convinced that some of the savages were not on his tran. ‘He didn’t know the Indian character very well; but he | had heard much of their ability as trailers, and he had tead Fenimore Cooper! He failed to distinguish be- tween “the noble red man” of the times of the early set- tlets, and the treacherous, half-civilized, and utterly loath oe some. Indian of the Western reservations. ao Perhaps it is the fault. of the whites but the red man has greatly deteriorated. trail as he once was. At least, these redskins» did not seem to be—if they were looking for the sheep-herder at He stooped low. £ : The redskins had run down a good” Just: He isn't as sharp on ‘the “stor tue tor ae | whi asle was abor @ man ' seco DP his « Bers OC } man b usele SE : T ‘ey «if he stop walking “tuckered ¢ out,’ again. ‘ey «if he ran. : captors—both particularly He Bid not Then he was really And Stony Lonesome believed they were. until long past noon. o ’ and lay down in another sheltered place to rest. Despite the excitement of the morning, and the oe which. still ciiched hin because of the Indians, he fell | asleep. -How long he slept he did not realize, wen he was aroused by some animal snuffing eagerly in the brush above his lair. | Stony Lonesome started up, -his nerves tuned to fear Was it a bear, or some other wild beast snuffing him out of his shelter ? And then with a bound and a shrill ohne ce the collie, leaped into his arms. about him, and licked his hands, and showed in every | doglike way that he thought himself oe ‘smart fu | for finding out the herder’s hiding- -place. But for once the herder had no caress for he four- footed assistant. There was no response on his part to | the cavorting of the dog. For, through the break in the bushes through which the dog had made its way, appeared the scowling faces of two painted warriors. They had taken advantage of the collie’s desire to find his human companion, and Jerry | had led the redskins right to. Stony. Lonesome’s_ hiding- | place! SUsh! Come out!” manded one of the red men. White man heap smart. com- Stony Lonesome had desperately seized his pistol. The | second redskin reached suddealy through the bushes with _ his own rifle, and knocked the little gun from the herd- _ er’s hand. “Come out!” the Indian who spoke English com- ; manded again,| and Stony Lonesome knew that it was | useless to refuse. ; They were so near that they could not miss 3s killing him ile was at their mercy. te climbed ‘out of the lair and. ood between his vicious- ‘looking f There was a third, and when Jerry, now seeing “that ' something was wrong, approached, growling, this brute. ‘man knew him, all right, too! The poor creature jumped redskins. : THe BUFFALO BILE STORIES 25, struck the ‘dog over the back ee his gun, trying, to break the poor dog’s spine. Then Stony Lonesome recognized the brutal Indian as old Kal-ma-naa, the medicine-man. And the medicine- He said something in his own tongue to the two warriors, aa they each took hold of the herder’s arms, and urged him through the forest. Being captured by Indians was not at all a pleasant preposition. They were great travelers, and they made the herder move along at their gait. There was no halt — for food, or rest, or even for water. Tf he lagged, a bat © over the head with a gun- -barrel was the mildest form of punishment they a , The white man had no jdeas as to where he was go- He had - but the most gruesome thoughts regarding his ultimate ing, or what the end of the jaunt would be. "finish. ~ ‘Whether these redskinsswould dare ‘burn him at the stake, or otherwise torture him, he did not know; but Old Kal-ma-naa remembered him as being the man who had the glances they cast on Fim were no love-looks! saved Buffalo Bill’s life when the medicine-man was about to kill that doughty ‘s cout, and naturally he did not feel friendly toward the prisoner. For some hours they tramped through the woods. Evidently they were not planning to come out at the side where Stony Lonescme had entered. If these Indians ex- _ pected to join their mates who had been in the coulée bat- tle, the tribe was migrating toward the higher hills. Nor, was it until they came, at dusk, to a. camping- place. where several fires were lighted that Stony Lone- The rendez- vous was at the mouth of the gully in which was the vent- some realized where he was being taken. hole of the ‘ ‘wind cave.’ ate Fifty. warriors were eee here. They had no tee- pees, for they traveled dight, being. intent on raiding and killing such lone settlers as they could: chance upon. They were cual a wicked-looking crew. The Easterner had never realized before that redskins were so near like -devils—especially. Sie painted for war. Hallpated, grim in their blood. and grime—tor some had been wounded in the day’s fray—and with not a THE BUFFALO BIU. STORIES. few fresh and bleeding scalps at their. belts, they looked like fiends from the pit! : ~Stony Lonesome was not spoken to. When his cap- ‘tors wanted him to halt at a certain place in the camp, they knocked him down with a rifle-butt. One could scarcely mistake such “sign-language”’ as this! | It didn’t matter much what their intentions were— what refinement of cruelty might be reserved for the cap- tive—he could be pretty sure that it would be anything but pleasant. He was allowed to lie by one of the fires for a while. The Indians were eating in gloomy: groups; but they of- fered him nothing. : Finally two of the braves tied his wrists behind him, dragged him into the gully, and staked him down’on the ground. The moon had risen, and Stony Lonesome could see the mouth of the wind-cave. He was placed directly opposite ‘to this aperture, ‘and not many feet from’ it. Evidently his “finish” would concern the “Voice of the Wind Spirit,” as old Kal-ma-naa had termed the noise from the wind-cave. The braves did not seem desirous of remaining near the hole themselves, howeyer. They fastened Stony Lonesome securely, and then scurried back out of the gully. There was.no wind, and the forest was silent save for the crackling of the fires and low murmurs of speech from the camp. | The prisoner knew, of course, that there must be one or more sentinels on guard; yet he could. not locate them, and he doubted if they could see him after the:moon rose so that a thicket shadowed his uncomfortable resting: place. Nevertheless, he rasta mips to break or stretch his bonds. It was his only chance, he felt. The Indians might not do anything further to him on this night; bu he dreaded the coming ‘of another day.! _ The thongs cut into. his flesh, and he was,in exquisite pain. He had to grit his teeth to. keep from groaning aloud. And hee here met is ear a sound like the faint sigh- ing. ofa. human: “Voice, « dt startled him for. a moments” then he remembered the voice fromthe hole in the ground, He believed that the wind was rising, and that the draft was beginning to sough through the mysteri- ous cave behind the’ rock. However, there was no rus- tling in the tree-tops above the gully, and Stony Lonesome was ptizzled. | -Agaitthe sound shivered on the night air. The pris- oner started and held his breath. Was it from the hole? Again the sound, and this time in no uncertain tone. “P-ssst !” | The prisoner tried to raise his head and look about him in the uncertain shadows. Aye! the sound did come directly from that hole in the rocky wall of the gully. “Lonesome!” murmured the voice again. He heard it plainly, Had he heard his own actual name spoken he might have doubted his senses! But this nom de plume he had taken was not to be mistaken— nor could he be longer convinced that the sound was a work of the imagination. “Lonesome!” again the sound—this time so clearly that the startled prisoner’ was afraid some of his captors would hear it. : “Hello!” he whispered back. + “Lay low—keep still-—-wait till the fight is over!” These three phrases reached his keenly attuned ear. He could not doubt their import, _ There was some party of rescuers near. He had not been left to bear the brunt of, the redskins’ vengeance without some attempt being Gane to rescue him! ~ His heart glowed. He found hope at once. But he did not cease’ to stretch his bonds. If there was a ae he _ wanted to be in it and do his share! CHAPTER XII. * 4 =. |... BUFFALO BILL'S ROUND-UP, Suddenly a figure glided through the shadow and lay , beside him on the ground. . The prisoner was so ‘startled that he: alniost cried out. He believed it was some beast. of prey when it fitst: Sagi) SO light was its: ao and oil its: motion.: = Then: that it was:certainly a man, and a friend, he y was yc le: th sg THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. _ ae Sy assured, A sharp nite severed his bonds, and he was free. Lut a hand of his rescuer pressed him back upon the ground when he would have risen. | “Keep: still!’ whispered a hoarse voice. ‘“‘Stay where you-are. Don’t jump up when the row commences, un- less you want to stop some of the lead. Ha | here comes that sentinel!” Stony Lonesome could not see the “sentinel: but the speaker glided away like a panther. 4 Suddenly a half-naked Indian paneaee in the moon- light near-by.. He stooped forward in a listening atti- tude, half-bent to the ground. \ His suspicions had been aroused. He had heard something—perhaps the whis- pering voice. | If he heard the sound that here startled the echoes of the glen, it was as much as he did! And it was the last sound he heard on earth—the resounding explosion of a rifle confined in a narrow space. - Stony Lonesome realized that the bullet came from the hole in the gully wall, before which old Kal-ma-naa had worshiped. The bullet sped over his own prone body, and struck down the Indian guard. _ Even his death-screech was quenched, the ball came so . suddenly and struck him in so vital a part! — But the rattling echoes of the shot brought the half- hundred Indians to the mouth of the gully as one man! : The camp was aroused on the instant. They saw the outline of their captive’s ote upon the ground where he had been staked. He had not fired the shot. In the path, however, was the dead body of their Reorter te : Half a dozen leaped forward, with war-whoop, «be- lieving that the whites must be in the gully. Instantly the vent-hole of the cave—from which the voice of the Wind Spirit had heretofore spoken to them through their medicine-men—spat several streams of fire. And the rifle-bullets bowled man after man over! The horror of the catastrophe set the redskins in a panic. Their very god had turned against them! The _. hated white men had overcome He Who Spoke From the Mountain, and from his lair their death-dealing thun- der rolled forth! Three or four of the redskins tumbled in.a heap, shot to death from this ambush. Every bullet seemed to reach a mark, and those who were not killed outright, ran shrieking from the glen, blood flowing from - their wounds! The frightened Utes would not rally to attack the mys- teriows avengers in the gully. Being shot from that mys- terious vent was more than they had bargained for. — Nor did they return for their captive. In five minutes the struggle was over, and the remainder of the band x were streaking it through the forest for safety. From the larger opening of the cave, which was above, poured some dozen rangers, who had trailed Stony Lone- some and his captors to this spot. Among them was. the big cow-puncher from the Cor- morant Ranch, Poke Carew, and last to appear was Buf- falo Bill himself. “Are you able to travel, Mr. Lonesome?” asked the scout, as the herder was assisted to his feet. “T’ll make a bluff at it,” grunted the recent captive. “Travel! if it’s out of this Indian country, I’ll travel, all right!” “We'll change our neighborhood,” said Buffalo Bill; “but these Utes have got to be all rounded up before ’m through with them. We can help you on your way to Todd’s, nevertheless.” . “He’s too blamed good a man to work for a sheep- shearin’ scoundrel like old man Todd,’ declared Poke Carew. down agin you, Mr. Stony Lonesome. You got to go to the Cormorant—that’s where you’ve got to go.” There was no time for talk, however. Buffalo Bill : : Aer made a brief inspection of the dead Indians left behind by their comrades. One of them chanced to be old Kal- ma-naa himself—shot through the heart by a white man’s bullet. “He got what was coming to him,” declared the scout. “And that reminds me that I’ve got something to thank you for, too, Mr. Lonesome. If it hadn’t been for you this old red scoundrel would have had my scalp the other day.” : “JT guess all scores are fully paid,” returned the herd- er. “I was figuring out the epitaph on my tombstone. “We punchers have got a big white mark sot 28 right then, when you whispered to me out of the rock. They would have finished me nicely before long.” “Right you are!” declared Poke. “You would ha’ been sacrificed to the windy god in the hole—that was sure their aim!” : | “Come on, boys! Let’ s get back to the ponies. “We've got some hard riding before us. If the gang under Wolf Fang has gone off nor'ward to make a cattle-raid, we want to ketch them in the act.” The sheep-herder was lame and sore; but he did not retard the gait of his friends. In an hour they reached a clearing, where the ponies of the party were tied. There was an extra one for Stony Lonesome, and he was : glad to be astride a horse again, for he was no mean rider. | | The cavalcade were soon out of the forest, and swept over the rolling prairie toward the north. Just at dawn they sighted from a ridge a herd of steers some miles away, and going rapidly. The growing daylight assured them that the cattle were being driven by the red thieves they were after! (2 The “Hi; yip, yip !’ of the cow-punchers joined the bat- tle-whoop of Buffalo Bill as the whites charged down the slope toward the cattle and the red raiders. Stony Lonesome found himself riding knee to knee with Poke and Cody, and yelling his own best, too! Somebody had loaned him a gun, and he was aching to get square for what he had suffered at the Utes’ hands. The red rustlers could not drive cattle like the trained cowboys; besides, the stampeded herd were headed for a wall of rock that offered through its face but a narrow passage. There would be trouble at that narrow way— no doubt of it! Buffalo Bill pointed this out to Poke, and word was : passed to the other boys what to do. They rode on like the wird, flanked the cattle, and got the herd between them and the redskins.. The latter were already troubled _by the situation. They did not know how to manage the cattle and fight the white men as well. Meanwhile Buffalo Bill and his cow-punchers were If they could turn the leaders of the charging cattle, they rushing the maddened cattle toward the narrow pass. THE BUFFALO. BibL SPORIES. would have the reds in a pocket, and Buffalo Bill and his cowboys spurred their ponies, the faster. ‘They had use for their quirts now Gaetan of their guns! The scout seized his hat, having no whip, and — pounded the cattle right and left. The bellowing ‘steers | ran on, despite the efforts of Wolf Fang and his gang of rustlers, and suddenly the latter found themselves ground between the charging herd and the wall of rock! It was a killing position. A buffalo stampede could have been no worse. | Several of the redskins went down, ponies and all, under the sharp hoofs of the steers. The Indians’ mounts - were not trained to cattle work like those horses ridden "by the cowboys. The reds greatly outnumbered the whites; but when the storm of the mad cattle had passed, against the foot of the rocks was a windrow of dead ponies and wounded reds. Several of the rustlers had clambered the side of | the hill; but a few shots brought them tumbling down. Wolf Fang himself was wounded, and he went back to This last charge was, the final disintegration of the Ute run- | Fort Exile a second time as Buffalo Bill’s captive. aways. Those that were not killed’ or captured slunk back into the reservation before winter really commenced. As for Stony Concsore, as Poke declared, he was too good a man to continue to herd sheep. Besides, he hated to meet pie Todd after what had happened to the flock. In the Tediae charge he had lost fully two hundred sheep out of the three thousand odd left in He care! At the Cormorant Ranch, the Eastermer was given something to do more in keeping with his intelligence and ability. But the experience had done him good in one 99 way. He “cut out the bug-juice,” as Poke Carew called if.) But he could never get rid of the nickname that he had given himself when he awoke to his misery on the sheep-range. cow-punchers—and to: his friend, Buffalo Bill—to the end of the chapter! THE END. The next number ae will be “Buffalo Bill’s Pledge: rdLe Vultures of the Narrow Pass.” sic at ae : He remained “Stony Lonesome” to the THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. ; | 29 OTE TO BORDERLIFE NEW YORK, February 22, 1908. TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. ' (Postage Free.) -Singie Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. BM ONONS 2 ees a leuinet wane wins 65ce. A THOMPUBG ces et eh cee bas cael ie eteta by G2mon ths eo eee $1.25 One year eee ote tees oe $2.50 2 copies one year.... : : 1 copy two years.... How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, ' registered letter, bank check or draft, at ourrisk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. “STREET & SMITH, Publishers, Ormonp G, SmitH, Georce C, Smitu, } Proprietors. AROUND THE CAMP FIRE. A. S£AG’S ANTLERS. |. Ee With the loss of the antlers the stag changes his disposi- tion entirely and becomes as docile and tractable as a lamb. He remains in this condition of temper until the beginning of March, when he shows a disposition to lurk in sequestered spots of the glen and timidly avoid the oes even of his kind. During this period, on the spot where the caulers were, : a pair of protuberances will make their epee eure: covered | ' with a soft, dark, velvety skin. These will attain a considerable growth in a. oe days. The carotid arteries of these protuberances will enlarge with them, in order to supply a sufficiency of nourishment. When the antlers have attained their full growth, which will be in ten, weeks after the old ones have been shed, the bony rings at the base through which the antlers pass will - begin to thicken, and, gradually filling up, will compress the iti esdels and ultimately obliterate them. The velvety skin that surrounds the bone being thus de- prived of nourishment, will lose its vitality, and will be | tubbed off in shreds by the stag on (he edges of rocks or other hard substances. As soon as the full size of the antlers is attained, the docile disposition of the elk will disappear, and he will become once more, for the year, the fierce and unfriendly king of the glen. : The age of the elk, according to writers on natural his- tory, is computed by the number of points on the antlers. Co ce, el 3 NIGHTAT THE ZOO. When the birds and beasts of a big zoo are tucked up in bed and made-cozy for the night, so to speak, the troubles of the keepers are by no means over. Every up-to-date zoo is patrolled by a large force of night-watchmen, and in many | institutions these men are armed with revolvers, for use only in the last extremity if dangerous animals escape. A _ between the hyenas. 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City. telephone-bell is usually fixed by the bedside of every curator and keeper, and is connected with various parts of the grounds, so that the watchmen may speedily call them if ue are needed. “And we are often called up, I can assure you,” a as ; recently said to the writer. “It is not, as a rule, because an animal has escaped, but because two beasts in the same cage have started fighting, or because a sick animal seems to have become worse. up out of my beauty-sleep to compose a little difference They were having quite a tidy scrap when I got to the cage, and I went in with a whip and an iron bar. Hyenas are not nice brutes to handle. I quieted. them before any were killed, but it spoiled my sleep that 39 night. “Oh, yes, we keepers haye to go into the cages very often by night and day. We must know as much about managing wild beasts as any trainer in a circus, and even more about keeping them in health. There’s only one beast whose cage IT wouldn't care to enter, and that’s the black panther—the most ferocious and treacherous animal on this earth, “A black panther nearly got loose one night at a zoo where I was a watchman. He dislodged a bar, and nearly squeezed through before he was seen. We got him back by Bh hitting him on the nose, but his rage was: simply terrible. If he had broken loose he could never have been taken alive. He would have had to be shot, and might have bagged one or two of us first. “The carnivora seldom manage to get out of their cages, for they are too closely prisoned; but deer, antelope, moun- _ tain-sheep, and other more or less harmless creatures, which are allowed a larger space to roam about in, are frequently found wandering loose at night.. They give us a fine chase sometimes, but not much trouble when we do manage to bring them to bay. “I never knew an elephant cause worry after it was time for bed. That sagacious beast very properly thinks that night was made to sleep in. But the monkeys are a perfect pest. Midnight seems to be their favorite time for a fight, and when monkeys fight they fight to kill one another. “In all my experience—which has covered nearly twenty- five years—I have never known an animal to escape at night from the grounds of any zoo where I worked, but there have been several narrow squeaks. A lioness nearly got into the streets some years ago from a zoo in a northern town— _I won't mention the place, because we all took an oath to keep quiet about it. A keeper whipped the brute back just as it was jumping on the wall, and we caught it in-a net. “The most remarkable escape on record, I think, was that of a snow leopard at the Bronz zoo, in New York, about four years ago. This animal, which is found in the Himalayas, is exceedingly rare and waluable. It is also very savage. Especial precautions were taken to keep it secure at the Bronx, but it managed to get loose about one o'clock. in the morning. A large staff of keepers hunted it for a couple of hours all over the large grounds. It killed two antelopes and attacked a buffalo, but was finally repulsed. __ “Then it escaped into the streets, and the police joined in the hunt. A policeman. found it crouched on top of a door- step three miles from the zoo, and shot it dead with his revolver.” Only a few weeks ago [ had to get 30 THE BUFFALO A SINGULAR INDIAN DUEL. The following story illustrates very well one of the char- acteristics of the Indian, as it shows that Indians, as a rule, did not mind dying so much as they were particular about the method. It was a good many years ago, at Pine Ridge, when there was trouble with the Cheyennes. Major Cooper was there as agent, and there were two young Cheyennes who were badly wanted for murder. They had waylaid and killed a prospector. They were not caught, and the chances were that they would not be unless the soldiers were called in. If this was done, it was likely to precipitate trouble with the whole tribe, and Major Cooper laid the case before the head men. They were told that if the soldiers were sent for there would surely be trouble, and were requested politely to ask the two erring bucks to come in and be hanged. Word was sent to the two young Indians, Head Chief and Young Mule, who were out in the hills) They sent word back that they had no objection to dying if it would keep the rest of the tribe out of trouble, but that if they had to die they preferred to die fighting, and they wanted it dis- finctly understood that they would not be hanged. It was entirely against the customs of the government, but rules did not go for much in those days. Results were the chief things, and Major Cooper sent word to them that if they wanted a fight he would risk accommodating them. A date - was set, and early in the morning they rode toward the agency, fully armed. Major Cooper was out to meet them, and the rest of the tribe, the potential hostiles, were gath- ered on the hills to see fair play. The agent rode out into the open and slipped off his horse, using it for cover and shooting across the saddle. The two young Indians galloped up to within shooting- _ distance and commenced ‘circling, hanging on the off-side of their ponies and shooting under their necks and across their heads. The tacit understanding was that if they were killed it was all right, but if they got the agent they would pull out into the hills and wait for some other challenger. fight did not last long. Cooper had a heavy buffalo gun, and killed one Indian, shooting him through the body of his horse. The other kept on circling, and several shots were exchanged, till the Indian was shot through the body. He knew it would be all up with him in a few minutes and charged, shooting as he came. But the agent’s luck held _ good, and he was dropped within fifty yards. The law was satisfied, and the agent was able to report officially to Washington that the Indians had been executed. THE BISON’S VICTIM. “Let us sleep here.” me as we emerge from the jungle upon a stretch of hard, dry sand which forms the beach of a shallow pool left by the last rains. We were in pursuit of a bison jane I had wounded early in the afternoon. For more than four hours Bah Oo, the Karen, had tracked him’ by the drops and splashes of blood which stained the leaves through which the ani- The” ene ; _ come before long, almost as suddenly a Thus my Karen shikar addresses — BILL STORIES... ( mal had pressed his way ; but now darkness was closing in upon us, and, reluctant as I was to,abandon the chase, the impossibility of seeing ‘the blood-marks compelled me to give it up for the night. Indeed, we were fortu- nate to come thus opportunely upon a suitable camping- ground before nightfall. In those regions we know not the delightful twilight through which day melts into night in more northern climates. Hardly has the sun gone to rest ere the moon assumes her sway with a haste that is almost weird. “It is good,’ I answered naeay: and Pah Oo throws down my blanket and busies himself with the prepara- tions for making a fire. Up here on the higher slopes of the Arracan Yumas the December nights are cold, and — my thoughts travel wistfully back to last night’s camp, where my flannel clothing and rugs are lying in readiness for their owner’s return. Bah Oo has a joint of bamboo filled with cold, boiled rice, and I have a pocketful of broken biscuits—these are all our supplies until we get. back to the rest of the party; and, as I intend to follow the bison until we come up to him or lose trace of his path, we must husband our resources carefully. “To-morrow we shall find him,” says Bah Oo confi- dently, as he lights his queerly shaped bamboo-pipe with a burning stick. “There is much blood. You shall kill him,’ and he nods reassuringly at me across the fire. The simple speech and the dark-skinned, sturdy form of the speaker often rise to my memory now. “You shall kill him.” Yes, I was to kill him, but not before he had killed the pluckiest man of the bravest race in Burmah. The night was very still; the fitful light of the fire danced upon the rising columns of smoke, and shone upon the overhanging foliage of- the gigantic trees around us. The bark of a deer or the call of a night bird served to emphasize our loneliness, and before we lay down to sleep we took care to pile enough wood upon the fire to keep it alive until well on into the night, for numerous tiger-prints upon the sand told us that our lodging was not too secure. We had been afoot since daybreak, and might have as hard a day’s work to- morrow for aught we knew; and, for my part, I slept under the starlit sky a sleep as unbroken as though I had been in my bed at home. The tree-crickets are chirping the last bars of the song they have been singing all night, when I open my eyes in the morning. There is no sign of dawn yet; but it will as did the night. Bah Oo is still slumbering peacefully under his putsoe beside the black embers of the fire, regardless of the heavy dews, from which I and my rifle have been pro- tected by an English blanket. I have had a wash in the _ dark-looking pool, and am drawing the sponge through my rifle-barrels, to dislodge any lurking particles of sand which may have found their way into them, when Bah Oo awakens. He does not stretch himself and yawn THe BUPPALO BILL STORIES. 93 : ae civilized sleeper might; e, twists his long hair into a knot, and folds the | putsoe, which is his single garment, round his, He has all his wits about him at once, and tooks d for the bamboo receptacle which contains’ his “In a betelchew” (about fifteen minutes) “St will e he says. fen we can see we must go,” I remark, sitting on a stone to eat a few mouthfuls of biscuit. Oo and I are old friends, but, as we carry on our ersation in Burmese, a language almost as foreign im as to myself, our observations are comparatively -and few. he birds are beginning to clear their rons for their ning hymn as the Karen, dah in hand, leads the way. he forest. lest branches of the tek trees; but a glodmy twilight ‘reigns below, and when we find the track of our ty, we get on but slowly for the first half-hour. ry leaf and spray is heavily charged with dew, and I am. wet to the skin; but we work our way steadily ard, encouraged by the blood-marks, which now lay and close together. We are trayeling westward, by and by find ourselves overlooking the distant Bay engal, across an undulating prairie of varied green. sun is up, and we get on more rapidly; the bison taken a sandy path which runs along the top of a p, almost perpendicular, bank. We. do not require aid of the blood-tracks now; the sand bears the huge sature’s slots so clearly that the Karen breaks into the liarly scuttling run he affécts when engaged in pur- it of game. Presently he pauses and points to a bitten m of elephant-grass, from which the juice ‘is still wing. He does not look around, and, as I acknowl- ge the silently given hint by touching his shoulder, he arts off again. For nearly an hour we traverse the path without tain @ to the right or left. It leads us through teak jungle heavy undergrowth, and my heart beats faster than ual as I look round and speculate on the risks we must n in attacking a wounded bison in such cover as this. ddenly Bah Oo crouches, comes to a. dead stop, and reads his hand out behind him, This signal means ok out; and I obey it by wiping the glistening dew- ops from my rifle-sights, and sweeping ‘the curtain’ of bwebs which hang from the broad rim-of my hat: -I. ok over the head of my guide, but can see nothing; he ks around, and, having caught my eye, directs my at- ion with a slight nod to a huge tree, with roots like e buttresses of a village church ; then he takes one long step backward, clutches my knee, and points a finger, embling with excitement, to a clump of bushes ten ces in front. I dropped on my knees and looked; after half-minute’s careful survey I see the stout fore! eg, ack in front and gray behind, which Bah Oo’s trained e detected in a moment. I touch the Karen on the oulder and rise to my feet, while he noiselessly van- hes behind the roots of. the tree he had selected. for. It is not an agreeable shot; ten paces is too close. be pleasant when the game is a wounded bison and the - I must make a guess WV CT eapon a five hundred ‘Express. the whereabouts of the. animal’s shoulder, for I ‘dare risk attracting his attention by moving through the. hes to obtain a better shot... I stoop down to note the tion of the leg sea and then, standing upright, he rolls into an upright ‘ horns. The sun’s rays are just catching the . plant both feet’ firmly and give him both barrels, one after the other. A terrific snort of rage and crashing of branches fol- low, as I made a spring for the tree whence Bah Oo is eagerly watching. I am not a moment too soon; the bison comes charging furiously through the hanging clouds of smoke, with his head down and his tail stand- ing stiffly out as he goes. He thunders past our hiding- . place and stops a few yards beyond it, looking round him angrily. He is a magnificent brute, at least seventeen hands high, with an enormous head and wicked- looking His glossy black hide gleams in the bars of sun- light which struggle through the foliage overhead. A nasty customer to deal with; but he has not discov- ered us yet, and therein lies my ‘hope. We are hidden from him by bushes, and I steal cau- _tiously from the friendly shelter of the roots to get an- other shot. I can plant a bullet behind his ear from where I stand. now, and have raised the rifle to cover the “spot, when I hear a crackling sound on the side of the tree. Bah Oo has left his place of safety, and, on all fours, a few yards away from it, is eagerly watching to see the effect of the next shot. I scream to him to go back, but it is too late; the bison sees him, and, turning | as I fire, is on the helpless Karen in half a dozen strides. There is a sickening scuffle and a heavy fall; the smoke risés, and I see Bah Qo, who has been gored and tossed, lying motionless in a clump of jungle ten paces from the spot where I saw him before I fired, The oe and rending of boughs below tell me. that the bison has gone over the bank, and, hastily reloading, I run to the edge to make sure that there is no danger of his return. Thirty yards down, I discern him lying, belly upward, dead. He must have fallen after tossing the tracker, and rolled down by the impetus of his furious rush. : I hasten back to the wounded man, to find him con- scious, but so terribly torn and mangled about the chest and side that his death must be a question of a few hours at most. He lies quietly where I place him, and idly watches my movements. as I tear up my shirt and his putsoe for bandages wherewith to try and stanch the flow of blood. cS “T shall soon die,” he says weary ‘And, though I contradict him with all the cheerfulness I can assume, ! feel that he knows himself to be right. The rude band- ages have checked the loss of blood, and he may live some time if he is not moved. “Hour after hour he lies there, breathing: heavily, but without uttering a word or moan. I sit beside him, longing for the appearance of the other men, knowing: that our prolonged absence will prompt them to break camp and come in search of. us. 3ut the scorching day wears slowly on, till the rays ‘of the sinking sun fall across the wounded man’s face, and we are still alone. Bah Oo moves his head uneasily on the coat I have rolled up for a pillow and looks out between the tree- trunks, over the shining sea,-at-the sun, whose crimson edge is just. dipping in the waters. “Tt is .sunset,’ he cars, turning to me with a dace: of awful resignation, “J will light a fire when it becomes dark,” A reply, “the other men will see it and come.’ I rise to collect sticks for the purpose, but" the Karen’s Ss: voice: stops me. “T must go now. : A slight tremor passed. ever his features « as a stooped: down and. called him by his name. But he did not als Newer; he had oS with, the. sun, ae LATEST ISSUES _ THE DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY The heroes of the stories published in this weekly are dear to the hearts of ape boys. Diamond Dick és splendid Western character. HIGH ART COLORED COVERS. 32 BIG PAGES. 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By Lawrence White, Jr. cE author of “The Prince of Grit.” For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price, 5 cents per copy, in money or stant aan ty STREET @ SMITH Publishers = 79-89 SEVENTH AVE., N. ¥. 270—Gordon Keith, LumberJack; or, Wild Life in the Great North-} IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS. of our Weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealers, they can be obtained from this office direct. Fill out the followin eS Blank and send it to us with the price of the weeklies you want and we _will send them to you by teturn mail, POSTAGE Ss TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY, q STREET & SMITH, 79 Seventh Ave. New York. eae, Ee ere eee IO: Dear Sits:—Enclosed please‘ find. .........5. A -« cents: for sehicly send me? 2 — oc oo. copies of TIP TOP WEEKLY... 2005.0. ee beech ie ee il @) CINICK CARTER WEEKLY... oe ee ..-... “ DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY....... ae a OR eo \...-- “> # BUFFALO BILL STORIES... oe Re a. Mae BRAVE AND BOLD WEEGI 7) sj Name...... cece cece sees cece ee one Stet vs + seaQe cree es Ce oe. Citys. ...5. 6. Slate... | is / ; : : z é ashe tee Af } BUFFALO BILL STORIES ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS Buffalo Bill wins his way into the heart of every one who reads the strong stories of stirring adventure on the wide prairies of the West published in this weekly. Boys, if you want tales of the West that are drawn true to life, do not pass these by. _—-s PRICE FIVE CENTS PER COPY For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, by the publishers to any address upon receipt of price in money or postage’ stamps HERE ARE THE LATEST TITLES: 324—-Buffalo Bill’s Gold Hunters; or, the Clan of the Skull and Cross-bones. 325—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico; or, of Zataclin. 326—Buffalo Bill’s Message From the Dead; or, The Mystery of the Dagger of Gold. 327—-Buffalo Bill and the Wolf-master ; Dogs of the Hills. 328—Buffalo Bill’s Flying Wonder; or, Zamba, the King of Fire. 329—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold; or, The Ruse of the Red Serpent. 330—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail; or, The Mystery of the Teton Basin. 331—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen; or, The Ghost Flower’s Mission. 332—Buffalo Bill-and the Mad: Marauder; Por aloe. 333—Buffalo Bill’s Ice Barricade; or, The Red and White Renegades of Powder River. 334—-Buffalo Bill and the Robber Elk; or, The Mail Seekers of the Range. 335—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance; or, The Thrall of the Lightning That Strikes, 336—Buffalo Bill’s Peace Pipe; or, The Casket of Mys- tery. - 337—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis; or, The White Captive ef the Sioux, 338—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa; or, The Lost Prin- : cess of the Moquis. 339—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death; or, The Secret of the Jasper Joss. The Red Priests On, A) Ming on, Phe Wald: 347—Buffal lo Bill 340—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak; or, A Box Full of Trouble for the ’Paches. 341—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty; or, The Break on the Bad Ax. Trail.” 342—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery; Catamount Puzzle. 343—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party; or, The Red Raiders of the Picketwire. 344—Butfalo Bills. Great. Ride; Handsome -Elk. 345—Buffalo Bill’s Water Trail; Fort Totten. 346—Buffalo Bill’s Ordeal of Fire; or, Trapped in the Coteaus. or, The Rope-and- or, The Capture of or,. 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