Bainter Seer ore erie aeons aoe ee aes ees ia = Roel oe iate Rrhes Sean Sie [A WEEKLY PUBLICATION’ "Issued Weekly, By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. V. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., W. Y. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1909, tn the ORE of the Librarian of Congress, TEE D.C eo - eS Beware of Wild West imitations of the Buffalo Bill Stories. They are about fictitious characters. The Buffalo ta ever the world as the king of scouts, Bill weekly is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffalo Bill, (Col. W. F. Cody), who is known all — : No. 409. NEW YORK, March 13, 1909. Price Five Cents, | ms | BUFFALO BILL AND THE 5 » : D Bs a ee ee HAND. JOR, Or Mystery. By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPTER 1. COOGAN, OF THE SECRET SERVICE. The shot came with startling suddenness. Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill Hickok were rolling @ gare of bil- liards in the “Lucky Pocket” resort, Pagosa’ Springs, Colorado. The front doorof the place was open, a screen ‘Standing before it as a shield for the bar. The bullet cut-a hole in the screen, flicked past the ear of Wild Bill, who was bending over the billiard-table, cue in his fin- gers, hit a rack of pool-balls, and then glanced upward and backward, smashing a lamp on the side wall and burying itself in the ceiling, The king of scouts was “leaning on his cue, his eyes on the table. The eyes of both the scout and the Laramie man shifted to follow the course of the intruding’ bullet. “By gorry!’ laughed. Wild Bill, dropping the butt of his cue on the floor. “If that piece of lead had stopped at the bar, asked for a drink, and then gone out again, it would have made the circuit of the room.’ “Did you hear it, Hickok?” inquired the scout gr al, ro lear it? Why, it came so close it whispered to me: ‘Lucky for you, Hickok, you're an inch to the right’— that’s what it said. Whoosh! Tried to get in the rack with the pool-balls, changed its mind, knocked the lamp to. smithereens, and then went out through the roof. That’s the first live noise I’ve heard to-day. Pagosa Springs seems to be waking up.” : It was about rr o'clock in the forenoon, and Buffalo Bill’ and Wild Bill were‘ the only patrons in the Lucky Pocket. The barkeeper had been dozing in a chair tilted against the wall, but the crash of the bullet and the clatter of glass as the lamp went to pieces, awoke him “suddenly. He gave a jump that brought the legs of the chair forward to the floor and threw him sprawling on his hands and knees, several feet away. Still on all fours, he looked up at the scout and the Laramie man in ludi- -crous bewilderment. “Who shot me?’ he yelled. “Why, neighbor,” laughed Wild Bill, “the bullet didn’t travel within a dozen feet of you. The Lucky Pocket is out one kerosene-lampg and that’s the sum total of the damages. If this thing happens very often you ought to have a bullet-proof screen there at the front door. Which was the target, Pard Cody?” he added, turning to the. scout; “you or me?” Before the scout could answer, and wet the bar- keeper 1 was picking himself up, a man stepped around the screen. “Neither, gentlemen,” said he. “Yours truly was the target, but the lead went a little wild.” He was a well set up figure of a man—not Western, ‘ THE BUFFALO exactly, but, as the scout took his sizing, Eastern with considerable ‘Western experience. Possibly he was thirty-five. His face was smooth and he wore a suit of cheap store clothes. There was a bulge at his hip, under his coat, which suggested hardware. For the rest of it, his light-hearted manner, consider- ing the fact that he had just been shot at, impressed both the king of scouts and the Laramie man most favorably. “Sorry you were disturbed,’ went on the stranger, coming forward. “These little things are liable to hap- pen, though, with me. Archibald Coogan is what I’m called, and you're Buffalo Bill, and tother gentleman is Wild Bill. A hand around, if you please.” The scout took the offered hand quietly, surveying Coogan with a speculative and not unfriendly eye. “Glad as ‘blazes, Coogan,’ said Wild Bill, “It Pm any Jecee your pulse didn’t skip a beat. Who shot at you! “That's more than I know. My enemies are many. and lurk in the dark. Bullets have a habit of jumping at me at the most inopportune times. I’m getting used to. it. A fortune-teller told me once that when I cashed in it would be. by. the water-route—so |! don’t worry much about bullets.” “Where did the shot come from?” queried the scout. “That’s another conundrum. I tried to figure that out before I walked around the screen, but it was too much for me. There’s more or less danger to you gentlemen while we stand here talking,. If you object to it, Tl meet you later in some place that’s less public and more se- cure. But I’m in Pagosa to talk with Buffalo Bill. 7 "Then go ahead with your palaver, Coogan,” returned the scout. “I reckon we can stand it.” “The idea of danger,” grinned Wild Bill, “is very fascinating to me. If it’s really dangerous to be with you, Coogan, I think Ill get a pair of handcuffs and attach you to my person. You're an island of excite- ment in an ocean of monotony, and life once more looks: pleasing. Take a cue and join us!” Coogan, during Wild Bill’s characteristic expression ae his feelings, stared at him with growing amiability. fies guess you’re a man after my own heart,” he ob- served, “but I won’t roll any balls just now, Another ‘time, perhaps. For the present,’ and here he pulled a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket, “I wonder if either of you two gentlemen can split this for me? Silver. will do. 39 A ‘The oa dug down and came up with five silver dol- Jars. Wild Bill had five more. Pooling their silver, they _ passed tt over to Coogan and took his yellow boy ‘in return. ‘Coogan, examining the silver dollars one by one, tossed - them to the billiard-table. / Can you remember where’ “you picked oy these cart- wheels?” he asked. — “Not I,” said Wild Bill. though. go : : “Mine came froar some of the stores fiere,” scout curiously. “Why do you ask?” _ “Because they’re bogus. They'll ring true, and they’ ve “Somewhere around Pagosa, got more silver in “em than the genuine: article, but the: milling is faulty and the die- work pretty crude.” “Almost anything with Uncle Sam’s name on it. will pass in these diggings,” commented Wild Bill. “What's the use of making a fuss over coin that: S got more good metal in it. than the senate: a . _ cine Mountains. it has been the scene of more fights than I can mention. ride the scout, BILL STORIES. Coogan looked around. The barkeeper was sweeping up the broken glass at the side of the room. Coogan lowered his voice and stepped closer. “It’s my business, gentlemen,” he proceeded, ° a fuss over such things as that. I’m from Washington —Secret Service Department. Some enterprising citizen in this section has a private mint, and I’m here to look it up. May I inquire, Buffalo Bill, why you came to- Pagosa Springs?’ “T was requested to do so by ies War Department. Somebody was to meet me here.” “Well, I’m the ‘somebody.’ Troy your eyes over this. ( ‘Coogan, of the Secret Service, drew a letter from his pocket and offered it to the scout. The latter read it carefully. The document merely stated that business of impor- tance was calling Coogan to Pagosa Springs, and Buf- falo Bill and his pards were ordered to cooperate with him. The scout passed the letter silently to Wild Bill. “Tine—oh!” exclaimed the Laramie man, handing the letter back to Coogan. “I’m tickled up and down and clear through, A “cloud of snap and ginger glimmers above the sky-line. A hard proposition, iy hope, Mr, Coogan?” “As hard a one as Tae ever tackled. You see, Coman- ches are mixed up in it, and I don’t happen to be so familiar with the Indian question as you gentlemen. That’s why you're to help me.” “Comanches in a bogus-money dodge!” muttered Wild Bill; “by gorry, but that’s a queer combination.” “Vou've heard of Lon Starkey, of Red Tail?” “The man that can’t be killed? Well, yes, amigo, pretty nearly every one in these parts has heard of Starkey.” “You know, then, squaw 2 | bre a married a good many squaws, and I reckon it’s likely there was a Comanche among them.” “Well, Starkey and a bunch of Comanches are sus- that he married i ‘Comanche pected, but only suspected. The redskins have left a trail . of bogus dollars, and the trail seems to end at Pagoso Springs. to-morrow.’ “Are Buffalo Bill and pards to go afield with you, Coogan?” « “Not just at present. shall call on you.’ “Well, you'll find the latch- string out.” “Can. you tell me something about Starkey? f haven’ t secured much information about him, as yet.’’. “He has a ranch,” said Buffalo Bill, “up in the Medi- The name of the ranch is Red Tail, and It’s an open question, Coogan, whether the man Starkey is identified by the ranch, or whether the ranch is no- torious because of its owner. The ranch-house is a dug- out. When-Starkey is at home, he fastens the tail of a red steer to a pole planted in the ground at the door of © When he’s EL or a steers horn on. the dugout. the pole “Which is why tae call it the Red Tail ranch, foe 2 laughed Coogan. character.” Die “Starkey Hanpdans on his nee a pursued ee “occasionally ioe four or five months at a time. fi Lon ee must be something of a ‘to hiedee i I have a clue or two that will take me afield” ‘When £ get a t men spotted 1 I me i I i OO Ne ee shot-—but the annoyance was tremendous. yy THE BUFFALO If any one goes into the place while the horn is on the pole there’s apt to be trouble “Where does he go on his long jaunts?” “He roams through the’ Indian country. They say he can't be killed. Several times an attempt has been made to hang’ him, but somehow such attempts never succeed. Starkey is a remarkable man in more ways than one. For instance——” The scout was interrupted By the bark of a revolver, a crash of window-glass, and the sudden slumping down- ward of Coogan, of the Secret Service. Coogan fell with head and shoulders under the billiard-table. it all happened so suddenly that Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill were for the moment astounded—but only for a mo- ment. “T'll-get that handy- boy, Cody!” cried Wild Bill. look after Coogan.” With that, he Laramie man rushed for the front door, the barkeeper ran after him, and the scout bent ‘down, laid hold of Coogan’s feet, and drew him out from SY ou = wider ue billiard-table. CHAPTER Ti; COOGAN’S PLAY TO WINs i Coogan was a gory-looking spectacle when the scout pulled him-out from under the billiard-tabie. The front of his shirt was covered with a red stain, and his eyes were closed. ~The scout knelt down beside Him with the intention of ascertaining the extent of his injury. As he bowed for- W ard, Coogan's s lips ‘moved. “Are we alone in here, Buffalo Bill?’ he asked. 7) ves,* replied the scout, surprised at the robust tones of the detective’ § voice. ~Puvas wellas ever,’ ‘went on Coogan. “This ‘is’a play to win, that’s all.” The scout was more surprised than ever. “Weren't you hit?” he demanded. vot at ally “But that blood Coogan laughed. “It's rather a thin article for the vital fluid, Bill, but it’s the best I could do. Red ink. bottle. Get rid of it, will you?” ‘The scout, with a grim chuckle, took’the empty bottle Coogan handed to him and flung it under the bar. The detective was still lying on the floor when he returned to ‘his side. “T was tempted to fale that play on the door-step when the other shot was fired,” proceeded Coogan, “but Buffalo Here’s the changed my mind, as I wanted to be where some one could see me. It’s known that I’m on the trail of the coiners, and some of them have been trying to pick me off for séveral days. he danger hasn’t’ been very great—a man that’s bern to be drowned will never be That part of the foolishness I propose to end right here. The bar- keeper saw the ‘tragedy.’ Keep him fooled—I’ll do aD part. Could you and Wild Bill carry me to the un takers?” OW ell do nnyth ung to. oblige Coogan,” smiled the scout, “even to seeing oe properly planted.” BILL STORERS. a “There's got to be a planting, and I want every one _in town, excepting you and your pards and the under- taker, to think it’s me that’s being put underground. Lf the coiners think I’m done for, and off their track, I can work to better advantage. See?” “Exactly,” returned the scout. a little bluff I pulled off once, down in Arizona. Wild Bill and I can help you out, Coogan.” “That’s the talk. After you get me-to the under- taker’s, I wish you'd get my satchel, at the Barker House, and smuggle it to me. There’s a change of clothes in it that [m going to need.” “Hist!” warned the scout; “some one’s coming,” Coogan lay back and closed his eyes. Wild Bill, the barkeeper, and three or four townspeo- ple came into the Lucky Pocket. They saw Buffalo Bill, with a long face, kneeling beside Coogan. ois he hurt, Buffalo Bill?” gasped one of the men who had trooped in at Wild Bill’s heels. “Oh, no,” said the Laramie man danse Tie's noe: hurt. I should think any saphead could tell that just by ¢ looking at him. How bad is it, Pard Cody?” The scout got up, shaking his head. . “We'll have to take him to the undertaker’s, Hickok,” said he. “Vm. a doctor, forward. “Your services are not needed,” geturned the scout. “This reminds me of I think a» said one of the newcomers, pressing “A blanket, Hickok.” : The barkeeper found a Navajo blanket and tossed it to Wild Bill, Then the scout and his pard wrapped the silent form in it very carefully. “Did you discover who did the shooting ?’ scout, lifting himself up. “This second shot was as mysterious as the first one,’ answered Hickok. ““The marksman must have been on that side of the building’”—he motioned toward the bro- ken window—‘‘and there’s-a pile of fire-wood on that side of the Lucky Pocket a dozen feet from the outside wall. The fellow that fired the shot was probably behind the wood-pile, but no one saw him, and of course he wasn't there when I went looking. This is tough, mighty tough! Where’s the sheriff? Do any of you fellows know ?” a “He's off some’rs on the hike,” gaping bystanders. ; “Town marshal ain’t around, nuther, other, “but I reckon he kin be “found.” “Find him,” said Buffalo Bill, “and send him to me, a the Barker House. This man, 2” and the scout indicated the blanketed form, “was Archibald Coogan—he came from the East. Let’s take him to the undertaker’ S. Hickok,” he added; “some of you show us the way.’ The barkeeper put up a wail. “One lamp’s gone an’ winder’s busted! pay fer em: “Oh, blazes!” snorted Wild Bill, stooping to ~ lift Coogan by the knees. “A man can’t even cash in with- out being dunned for the damage the bullet made that killed Hae Go back to your bar and peddle your tangle- foot. Phat’s all youre sood for.’ “Vou il send the blank et baci: ?” asked the. barkeeper. “You'll get your blanket, all right,’ growled W'ld Bul, as he and the scout bore We burden around the screen, “If I had time, barkeep, I’d- bring the Llanket 3 ueried he answered one of the 99 volunteered an- e Who's ter. Se 4 THE BUFFALO back myself and make you eat it. about you.’ It was a gruesome little procession that filed out of “the Lucky Pocket. One of the townspeople piloted the way to the undertaker’s, the scout and the Laramie man That's how I feel followed with their limp burden between them, and a. crowd of curious and morbidly excited citizens made after them, asking questions and going over the details of the recent “tragedy.” At the door of the undertaker’s ne cron including the pilot, was dismissed, and the door closed on a score of disappointed faces. The undertaker, seeing Buffalo Bill and the burden, guessed, of course, what was wanted. He was a skinny, cadaverous- looking man, and he rubbed his bony hands at the prospect of a fee. “Something sudden?” he inquired, pointing to a table in a rear room, on which the scout and the Laramie man deposited Coogan. “Very,” said the scout. “Who'll foot the bill?’ went on the undertaker. “Any money in his pockets? I usually get all that’s in a man’s pockets.” “What's your ptice for the whole business?” asked Buffalo Bill. “Well, fifty dollars will do it in pretty aie shape.” “Suppose I give you a hundred?” ‘ihe undertaker gave a delighted cackle. “That'll give him the best there is. Friend of yours, Buffalo Bill?” “Yes.” The scout turned to Wild Bill. the Barker House, Hickok,’ he went on, satchel which Coogan had there. There may be some money in the satchel.” oa Hickok made off at once. He had no difficulty at all securing the satchel. The whole town was talking about the shooting, and when the Laramie man asked for the grip it was immediately handed over to him. When Hickok got back to the undertaker’s he found the door barred against him, and screens at the windows to prevent prying eyes from looking in. A rap on the door brought a question from inside: “Who’s there?” “Hickok,” he answered, recognizing the scout’s voice. The door was opened and bolted again. Then Wild Bill gave a startled jump and dropped the satchel. Coogan was sitting in a chair, calmly whiffing a cigar! “Well, by gorry!” grunted Wild Bill. “What's the meaning of this hocus-pocus ?” “A play to win, Wild Bill,” grinned Coogan. The undertaker laughed raucously. “A. very odd idea,’ said he,” very odd. But I’m to oe a hundred for putting a sand- bag i in a long box, carrying it to the cemetery and caching it. That was the bargain, eh, Buffalo Bill?” “That was the bargain,” answered the scout. Coogan pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and stripped off a couple of fifties. “Vl pay for it right now,” said he, handing the money to the undertaker. “What's more, my friend, if I find that you have kept a still tongue in your head there'll be another fifty coming to you.’ “Count on me,’ ead the undertaker, once more rub- bing his hands. “Ill be as mum as an oyster.” Vou'll have the planting to-morrow morning.” V Exactly,” “Go over to “and get a. BILL: STORIES. Wild Bill had been looking on and listening with a confused look on his face. (“Um allin a tangle; Pard Cody,” said he. The scout explained the situation while Coogan was changing his clothes, replacing the hand-me- -down suit with a soiled blue shirt, a red cotton handkerchief, cor-- duroy trousers, and an old slouch-hat.. Taking some pig- ments from the satchel, the detective darkened his face until it was of a swarthy hue. His last move was to slip the revolver out of his discarded trousers and push it into his hip pocket. By then the scout was through giving Wild Bill the details. The Laramie man was chuckling to himself over the realistic way in which Coogan had carried out his little “play to win.’ : “You're ace-high, sure enough, Coogan,” said Hickok. “When are you going to call on Cody and pards?”’ “Very soon. T shall remain here until night, and then Ill get a horse and ride into the hills. You gentlemen will be at the funeral? It will add corroborative detail, you know.” “We'll be there,” laughed Wild Bill, as he and the scout took their departure, The door was carefully locked behind them. As the pards pushed through the gathering crowd, a man stepped up to the scout. “T’m Egan, the town marshal, Buffalo Bill,” said he. “Was jest on my way ter the hotel ter see ve “Come along,” answered the scout; “we ‘re just going there.” CHAPTER TIL. A LEGEND OF THE HILLS. Buffalo Bill was glad that the marshal had accosted him without trying to get into the undertaker’s. “T don’t suppose,” said the scout, as the pards and the officer walked toward the Barker House, “that the man who fired the shot is still in town.” “He'd be plumb foolish ter stay here, returned Egan. “Ye kin bank on it, I reckon, Buffalo Bill, that the feller has hiked.” “Then this is hardly a case for the marshal. for the sheriff to tackle.” “That was my view 0’ the case; but, ye see, the sheriff ain't been seen wr heerd of fer two weeks. He’s mys- ter’ously missin’.” “Where was he bound for when he left town?” “It’s a secret; although McGowan—that’s the sheriff— told me about it. I reckon I can tell you somethin’ about it, however, seein’ as how ye’re hand and glove with the goviment an’ it’s a govment affair. Leas Starkey, o Red Tail, was in town, spending silver dollars quite free. That was two weeks ago. McGowan ketched on that they was bogus dollars, an’ took one of ’em ter Fort Pagosa fer the paymaster ter look at. The paymaster allows McGowan is right about them dollars bein’ coun- terfeit, so back comes "McGow an ter lay Starkey by the. heels, but Starkey had skipped by the time McGowan got back ter the Springs. McGowan allowed he’d go out an’ look Starkey up, an’ p’inted fer the Rio Piedra an’ the San Juan Mountains.. Four days later McGowan’s hoss come back—but the hoss didn’t bring McGowan. 99 It’s one O° oe Te BUFFALO Animile wasn’t injured a parkicle: an’ the ridin’- -gear was jest as good as when Mac had set in it, goin’ out 0’ town. But where’s McGowan ? Nobody knows, although I got my stspicions.”’ ‘By then the three men had reached the hotel. They went inside at once, and found Nomad, the scout! S trap- per pard, listening to an account of the recent ‘ ‘tragedy’. from the lips of the clerk. The old trapper broke away from the clerk with a whoop. “What's this I hyer?’” he cried, bearing down on the scout and the Laramie man. “Somethin’ rally takin’ place in this hyar dead-an’-laid-out camp an’ me not bein’ _inon ther deal! Waugh! Buffer, whatever did ye mean by drappin’ inter a bunch 0’ excitement an’ not takin’ me erlong ?” “Why, Nick,” returned the scout, “you refused to go to the Lucky Pocket with Hickok and me for a game of billiards, and-—— “T ain't huntin’ billiards, Buffler, but excitement. Ef ye d hev drapped er hint thar was goin’ ter be shootin’ ; Vd hey follered ye on ther jump, chaps, taps, an’ lati- goes.’ a We didn’t ee about it ourselves, Nick,’ put in Wild Bill. “Do you suppose the program was all framed up in advance? ‘Take a chair, pard, and compose your- self. The sheriff has been missing for two weeks, and Egan, the marshal, here, was just telling us about it.” “Seen Leetle Cayuse anywhar?” inquired the trapper, pulling up a chair. “Isn't he around the hotel?” asked the scout. “Nary. Him an’ me was goin’ ter take a ride over to’rds Fort Pagosa, an’ he went fer the hogses. A feller picked up my animile, Hide-rack, all trapped out with ridin’-gear, nippin’ aimless erlone ther street, but Cayuse wasn't erlong an’ hesn’t showed up. Some quare, but I reckon ther boy’ ll come breézin’ in bumby, able ter give an account o’ himself. Ther sher’ff hes been missin’, hey? Waal, I heerd somethin’ erbout thet myseli—jest enough ter make me want ter ae more, Fire away, marshal, ef so be ye’re loaded.” “T was jest tellin’ Buffalo Bill an’ Wild Bill,” con- tinued Egan, “that [ hey my suspicions as ter what’s become o’ the sheriff. The subjick was brought up by the tragedy what was recently enacted in the Lucky Pocket—Buffalo Bill sayin’ as how the man that did the shootin’ had prob’ly left town, an’ that the casé was one fer the sheriff ter tackle, alt “Go on with your suspicions, Egan,” cut in Wild Bill. “What do you think has happened to the sheriff?” The scout was only mildly interested. His main pur- pose wag to get the marshal off the subject of Coogan and the play ‘the detective was trying to make. In response to Wild Bill’s direct question, Egan shud- dered instinctively. With excited eyes he peered around him as though fearing some invisible presence might be hovering near to listen and take revenge for the betrayal Ol 4 secret. Drawine a bar oft chewing” from one pocket, he nibbled at a corner. Then, settling back in. his chair, he went on ina hoarse whisper: “Betwixt you an’ me an’ the gate-post, gents, the Red Hand got McGowan.” “Who's the Red Hand?” asked Wild Bill. “It ain't no human,” answered Egan nervously. “Jest a Red*Hand about the size 0’ this floor we're settin’ on, at the end o’ an arm as long’s from here acrost the \street. I’ve heern tell_—_—” “He broke off abruptly. =suDIeCt, » Bill. BILL STORIES. 5 2 “But, say,” he added, with a sudden change’ of manner, “are you folks so plumb full o’ common sense that ye won't b’leeve things ye can’t understand ¢ If ye are, then this here yarn ain’t fer you ter hear.” “Tt don’t make any difference what we believe, Egan,” said Wild Bill, “you ‘ve got this far and you might as well finish.” “It’s what they call a legend,” Sharply the faces of his listeners. said Egan, wane “The greasers here- _ abouts have got it by heart—although not many of.’em will tell it. When the fust Spaniards come inter the kentry the Hand was there, in the San Juan Mountains —big as this here floor, an’ at the end of an arm as long’s from here acrost the street. A tremenjis big hand, gents. It sweeps down out 0’ the clouds, accordin’ ter. the greasers, an’ nabs holt of a feller, then sweeps on back inter the clouds ag’in.” The scout looked disgusted. Wild Bill laughed. No- mad acted as though he wanted to hear more. Egan got up with a grieved look. “Ye ain't the ones ter listen,” he observed sourly; “I might have knowed better’n ter spring it on ye. Any- ways, that’s my idee as ter what’s become o’ McGowan.” “You mean that he was riding through the hills and that this Red Hand came out of the sky and took him away?” chuckled Wild Bill. “That's what,’ asserted the’ marshal. “Fellers that on’y bileeve what they see, an’ never take no stock in what they hear, gits come up with, sooner or later.” The scout, having no time to waste on fairy-tales, ex- cused himself. Wild Bill, who was fond of a story, no matter whether it was true or not, hung to his place. Nomad stayed with him. Egan had little more to tell them. Two or three men, according to tradition, had vanished from the San Juan Mountains in the hoary past. The Mexicans averred that the Red Hand had been responsible for their taking off. “Ne dont hev ter bileeve it. if ye don’t want ter,” growled Egan, catching a humorous glint in Wild Bill’s eye and moving away; “there’s plenty as knows the story's true. Tf this Coogan,” he finished, shifting the “4s in the hands o’ the undertaker, I don’t reckon there’s anythin’ fer me ter do but ter knock around town an’ see if the feller what shot him was fool enough ter stay here?” . “That’s about all you can do, Egan,” answered Wild Bill. “If this Red Hand starts to doing business in Pagosa Springs you tip me off, will you? Id like to get a look at it. Must be a powerful big man to havé an arm that long.” “Oh, shucks!” grunted the marshal, out of the office. “Thar’s er heap o° quare things, Hickok,’ remarked old: Nomad, “thet human bein’s ain’t able ter savvy.” “Go on, you superstitious old rawhide!” scoffed Wild _ Blamed if I don’t think you've swallowed that striding sulkily am.” : “I ain’t er sayin’ whether I hev er hevn’t, on’y I'm allers open ter conviction; which,” added Nomad darkly, “isa hull lot more’n some ombrays aires: Nothing of any importance took place during the re- mainder of that day. Egan beat up the town, in the hope of locating the mysterious marksman who had fired twice at Archibald Coogan, the second time with supposedly fatal effect. The door of the undertaker’s place of busi- ness remained locked, and the windows curtained, The 6 | THE BUFFALO ~ undertaker was busy—and silent. He was earning $100 for helping Coogan carry out his plot, and another $50 by keeping quiet about it. Little Cayuse did not return, and his pinto, Navi, was not at the corral with the other horses belonging to the scout and his pards. Buffalo Bill was not doing any worrying on the Piute’s account. Wherever he was, or whatever he was doing, Cayuse had already demon- strated his ability to take care of himself. Night passed, and still the Piute boy did not return. Following breakfast, the scout, Wild Bill, and Nomad re- paired to the undertaker’s. The trapper, meanwhile, had been let into Coogan’s secret, and, as may be readily im- agined, he was highly delighted. Anything in the nature of a ruse always appealed to Nick Nomad; this, calling for clever work and a certain amount of acting, was par- ticularly pleasing to his fancy. The cemetery was on a slope beyond the town, in the direction of Fort Pagosa. To this place the scout and his pards, together with a number of townspeople, who were still morbidly curious, followed the buckboard and the long box. ‘There were no ceremonies over the sand- bag in the box—the ruse was not carried as far as that ‘but the whole proceeding, otherwise, was intensely real- istic. The box was lowered, the hole filled in, and all hands returned to town. In a brief and private conversation with the under- taker, the scout was told that Coogan had left town in the early part of the preceding night, leaving word that, just as soon as he had anything to communicate the scout should hear from him. Shortly after the scout and his pards reached town _ they were astounded to learn that Navi, Cayuse’s pinto, had returned to the corral without his Piute owner. They went at once to investigate. The pinto was fagged and covered with mud, but he was not injured in any way and the riding-trappings were all in place. It was in this manner that McGowan’s horse had come back. Had Cayuse suffered the same mysterious fate that had overtaken the sheriff? on CHAPT AR TV. ON CAYUSE’S TRAIL. This return of the pinto without Little Cayuse turned the scout’s thoughts from everything except his boy pard. ‘When the Piute’s absence was mentioned by old Nomad, the scout had felt no alarm; and he would have con- tinued in an easy frame of mind over the outcome but for the return of the riderless pinto. But now, like a bolt from the blue, had fallen a most unsettling circum- stance. The last act of Coogan’s cleverly planned and executed ruse had just been completed, but Coogan, Lon Starkey, and -the illegal coiners faded at once “from the scout’s mind. Until this mystery enshrouding Little Cayuse was cleared up the scout would have nothing to do with any- - thing else. Dis hyo e as sattingly er brain-twister,” ruminated the trapper, leaning against the corral. fence and fixing his gaze on the form of the exhausted pinto. “Ther lee- tle hoss hes been travelin’ hard—ye kin see thet with BILL SPORIES. half an eye. But whar hes he been? Thet’s ther ques- tion.” The scout turned to Jenkins, the corral boss. “Which way did the boy start when he left here, Jen- kins?” he asked. ‘“Tast I seen o’ him, Buffalo Bill, he was headin’ fer the main street, leadin’ Hide-rack, Nomad’s mount.” “You didn’t see him after that?” iNapy a sien “Cayuse must hev left Pagosa Springs in a tarnal big hurry,” put in the trapper. “‘He didn’t even take time ter hitch Hide-rack ter a post, but jest cast him adrift. Howlin’ hyeners! We're up agin’ er stone wall.” “It’s a hard nut to crack, that’s sure,” said Wild Bill. “Tt isn’t at all like the boy to skip out in that way with- out saying something about it.” “From the way. Cayuse left Hide-rack,’\ returned ‘the scout, “it seems he didn’t have time to leave word.” “But what business could he have that was so mighty important?” This was the point that bothered all of them. As yet there was no business in hand, so far as the Piute knew, claiming the pards’ attention. Pedro, a Mexican employee of the corral, drew close while the pards were standing around Navi. Muttering an exclamation, he stepped to the pinto’s knees. The animal’s forelegs were caked with a hard bluish mud. ~ “Carramba!” exclaimed Pedro, leaping back suddenly and casting a frightened glance into the faces about him. . “What have you found?” demanded Buffalo Bull. The Mexiean did not answer, but started off at a run. Before he had gone a dozen steps Wild Bill had grabbed him and pinned him against the corral fence. “Waugh!” grunted Nomad. “Whatever does yer greaser mean by actin’ thetaway, Tends: ne “Pass the ante,” answered the puzzled Jenkins; “never knowed Pedro ter ack that way afore; but then, these greasers is all queer, more or less. Now ye got him, Wild Bill, ye might make him open his trap an’ tell us what’s on his mind.” ~ “What did you see, Pedro?” asked Wild Bill, his face stern and his words menacing, “You'd better be talking if you want to save yourself trouble.” “The mud, senor,’ gasped Pedro, Madre de Cristos!” “We savvy purty nigh as much as we did afore,” “the blue mud! | growled Nomad. The scout went around to Pedro’s side. as Wild a clung to him. “You know the place where that mud camesfrom, Pe- dro?” asked the scout. © Sy “Si,” whimpered Pedro, rolling his eyes, malo, senors!” “By the jumpin’ jemimy,” muttered Jenkins, “I’m be- ginnin’ ter understand what the pesky greaser is gittin’ at. No hosses thet’s ever come inter this corral—an’ I’ve been doin’ bizness here goin’ on three years—hev ever tromped inter the yard with thet blue mud on ’em afore. “malo, Muy 39 Buffalo Bill has hit the right nail on the head. Pedro savvies whar that mud comes from—or thinks he does. Make him tell, Wild Bill.” “He acks like he was skeered half ter death,” cai te trapper. “What’s ther reason 0’ thet? D’ye. eckon, But- fler, he had anythin’ ter do with what h Appened + ter Cayuse” ‘said he sharply. _ way, we will another.” tell, Pedro. : against the back of Pedro’ S. neck. of the Red. Hand?” THE BUFFALO “It’s hard to tell what’s the matter with him,’ an- swered the scout, “but I don’t think he was mixed up in anything that has happened to the boy. If he had been he would hardly have come up while we were examining Navi,” ; Again Buffalo Bill turned to Pedro. “You might just as well tell what you know, Pedro,” “We're. going to get it out of you, if Er Pe scour not peaceably, then by force. Look here! drew the gold piece given him by Coogan out of his pocket. ,“Sabe the oro? This is yours if you tell what you know. Where did that blue mud come from?” Pedro’s face was the color of old cheese, his body was limp, and his eyes, while staring greedily at the money, yet held a wild, fearful look in them. Twice he started to speak, but the words failed, and he moistened his dry lips with his tongue. i “Go on,” urged the scout, “if you want the money, If we can’t hire you to talk we'll see what force can accom- plish. If we can’t get to the bottom of this matter one “San Juan Mountains, senor,’ ’ chattered Pedro. “That mud came from, the San Juan Mountains?’ “Si I 17 ‘ “T kain’t see what thar is in thet ter make him throw er fit,’ mumbled the trapper, scowling. “What part 0’ ther San Juans, you Oiler, yur” Pedro gave a groan. “Val de mano rojo!” he oid despairingly. Jenkins laughed. “I told ye these greasers is queer,” he remarked. _ “Walley of the Red Hand!’ exclaimed the scout,.and not only he, but the rest of his pards, thought of the wild yarn Egan had told them the day before. “He’s plumb locoed,” grunted Nomad disgustedly. “All the greasers in these parts is locoed, then,” went on: Jenkins. “Every last one of ‘em believes in the Red ‘Hand, an’ wouldn’t no more go near that there valley than. they'd swap cigarros with/the Old: Boy fron below. They’re superstitious as the blazes.” “Do you know how to get to this aoe, of the Red ‘Hand, Jenkins?” inquired the scout. “Waal, no, Buffalo Bill, an’ I dont reckon ye’ll find a white in all this part o’ the kentry as believes thar is sich of a place. - greasers claim ter know, but that’s part 0’ the scock-an’ ~ bull story that has been handed down to ’em.” © “Do you know where-this Valley of the Red Hand is, Pedro?” asked the scout, once more giving attention to the Mexican. Pedro nodded. _ “Where is it?’ went on the scout. “It is a saying, senor,’ whined the Mexican, “that whoever tells the. Americanos about a al de mano rojo, dies.” “Well,” said Wild Bill Rercety, you ‘Il die if you don’ t So get about it!’ - Pedro. wriggled like a frightened rabbit, but there was no getting away. When Wild Bill suddenly jerked a _revolver from Bs nO Pedro slumped to his knees with a cry for mercy. “Go ahead!’ snapped. Wild Bill, pressing ‘the revolver Where's this Valley With trembling ‘hands Pedro picked upa piece of stick ~ volver ; Alt moonshine, most of us think. The head. BILL STORIES. ee y that - near fa then, with the point of the stick, he began drawing lines in the sandy earth before him, SELES makin’ er map, said Nomad, “He's takin’ a good deal o’ trouble ter locate thet thar valley, ef were ter suppose thar ain’t no sich thing.” “Prob'ly he thinks he knows whar it is,’ kins. When Pedro got through with his map- drawing, he used the stick for a pointer. “This place, sevors,” said he, indicating a lot of crossed lines, “we call Pagosa; and this, suavere he ran the Stick along a straight i running west by north, “is what we call the trail an Rio Piedra, Follow Rio Piedra to two big rocks, called The Friars; turn between the rocks, go north to Val de mano rojo! Ay de mi!’ and he dropped the stick with another groan. Thunder !’ muttered Wild Bill, ’ returned Jen- putting up his re- youd think the poor fool was signing his death- warrant.” “How are we to know the valley when we see it, Pedro?” asked the scout. “You see a blue hill with a cross, sefior,’ said Pedro. The scout dropped the gold piece in front of Pedro. He grabbed it up and leaped away like a deer. _Queerer’n blazes, these greasers,” remarked: Jenkins. “He ain’t never seen that Red Hand no more’n | have. but he believes i in it, all the same. Gosh! I’m glad I’m Americano an’ got some sense.’ . Buffalo Bill was studying the map. “Throwed away yer yaller boy, Nomad. “Perhaps not,’ answered the scout; the only clue we ve. ool.” xe ain't goin’ ter -foller the clue?” gasped Jen kins; _ “Certainly we are,” said the scout. “Ye won't find no Red Hand——” — “That isn’t what we're looking for. If we can find a Buffler,” chirped “anyway, this is valley ‘with blue earth like that caked on Navi’s fore- legs, it’s quite possible we'll be able to learn. something ates Cayuse. Go over to the Barker House. for our- wat-bags, Nick,” the scout added to the trapper. © “Have them loaded with three days’ rations.” “We're goin’ ter hit ther.trail?” queried Nomad. “TE not, why should I be sending for the war-bags?” Nomad rushed out of the corral with a whoop. “This hyar is goin’ ter be a-wild-goose chase fer ye, Buffalo Bill,’ said Jenkins, with a duhious shake of the “T’m bettin’ good money thar ain’t no sich of a valley like Pedro said.” : “Then we'll find out. If our Piute pard is in trouble, we've got to do what we can for him.” “Keno!” seconded Wild Bill. “This is the only. clue we've got, and it’s our business to find out what’s in it.” CHAPTER V.- THE VALLEY OF THE RED HAND, Accompanying the scout, Vie trapper, and the fae _man in their hunt for the Valley of the Red Hand and Little Cayuse, went the three Apache trailers loaned to “the scout by the _ government—Yuppah, Pedro, and _ Chappo. a : 8 | THE BUFFALO There was small need of expert trailers, inasmuch as the pards had their course diagramed, but the scout con- sidered it wise to take the Apaches along. : For some time Cayuse had been nominally in charge of the trailers, had bunked with them and shared their rations, and between the Apaches and the Piute had sprung up a feeling as near regard as an Indian can ex- perience. Yuppah, Chappo, and Pedro were eager to go with the scout, and the scout believed that this eagerness might, in some way, be turned to good account. During the larger part of the journey to the Rio Piedra, the trail was stony and offered no signs of hoof- prints; but there were places, here and there, which showed marks of passing horses, three sets overlaying each other and pointing west, and one set evel ine all and pointing east. “By gorry,’ breathed Wild Bill, after a study of the trail, 4 shouldn’t wonder if we’ve picked up the right scent “No cumiur so many tracks, Hickok,” put in the trapper. “That’s a puzzle, sure; but that set of hoofs pointing east might have been made by Navi. dis a cinch the tracks were left by a horse that wasn’t burdened with a rider. There’s a set of marks, going the other way, that matches the set headed east—only when the horse was _west-bound there was a rider on his back. That horse was Navi, I'll bet a bunch of dinero, tion, Pard Cody ?” “You've hit off my idea to a hair,” replied the scout. “Cayuse certainly went west over this trail, and Navi returned without him.’ It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when the scout called a halt at the Rio Piedra. They had slipped down, and were just taking the saddles from their ani- mals, ‘when they saw a horse galloping toward them along the river-bank from the north. The animal was saddled and bridled, but there was no one on his back. “Blazes_ter blazes an’ all hands “round!” tuned up old Nomad. “Hyar’s another riderless hoss, an’ we ain’t missed no one.. Whoever could thet critter hev belonged tet. The horse showed-a disposition to give the party on the river-bank a wide berth, and the scout ordered Yup- pah to go after the animal and bring him in. Yuppah made light work of the pursuit, and soon rode back to his companions, leading the runaway. There was the same blue mud on the horse’s legs that had been carried into Pagosa Bpunee by Navi. “This is wuss an more of et,” running his fingers through his long Nair. 9 iin 1p er stump, 4 am, pards. ‘Ther hoss hes been ter this hyar valley we're tryin’ ter find, but who straddled ther crit- ter? An’ what’s ther ‘ombray got ter do with Cayuse, ef anythin’ ?” “You remember,’ returned Buffalo Bill, were trails of three horses going west. This was proba- bly the animal that left the second trail. As to who the rider was—vwell, let’s look through those saddle-bags and maybe we'll get a clue.” ( _ The bags were. tied to the saddlé-cantle. Without re- moving them, Nomad pulled the buckles loose and ran his hands into the pockets. “Nothin’ but jerked meat an’ hardtack, Buffler,” he. “Kain’t git much of er clue from them er Waugh! what’s this hyar?’” “that there said What’s your no- puzzled the trapper, BILL STORIES. on one of the bags Nowa pulled out a letter, stared at the address, and stifled a yell. . “Tm er Piegan, Buffler,” he said, his voice trailing away in bewilderment, “‘ef et ain’t addressed ter youl. - The scout caught the letter out of Nomad’s hand. TA! he muttered, removing the enclosed sheet and slancing it over, “we clear up one mystery, pards, only to drop into another. Hickok, this is the letter Coogan gave us to read, in the Lucky Pocket.” “Well, by gory!’ ” Wild Bill took the sheet out of the scout’s hand and examined it incredulously. “What do you make of that, Cody?” he added, lifting his eyes blankly. “Coogan must have gone over the trail after Cayuse did. < But why? “Hardly that. noon and Coogan didn’t leave “till last. night. Chance has carried them both along the same course.’ : “It’s as hard to figure out what Coogan was doing along this way as it is to understand why Cayuse came in this direction. Jumping sand-hills! I never met uf with such a riddle.” “Coogan, you remember,’ proceeded the scout, “said he had a clue to follow in looking for Starkey aed the Comanches. Perhaps his clue has ‘taken him to the Val- ley of the Red Hand.” / “And he’s ‘dropped into the same sort of a fix that Cayuse got into!” oe Cayuse an’ Coogan was captered by anybody, argued Nomad, “‘et’s some quare the fellers thet.captered sthem didn’t grab their hosses. Whyever was the animiles left ter stampede along ther back track ?’ “Maybe we'll find out all about i t when we reach the valley,” said the perplexed scout, Well put our our horses and rest for a couple of hours, and then we'll hike on 16° The Friars.” While the horses cropped the grass, their riders: fell back on their grub supply.; then, by five 0 ‘clock, the party was once more on its way, Yuppah towing the horse that had escaped from Coogan. The Rio Piedra was full of crooks, but its gently sloping, sparsely timbered banks made easy going for the horses. The sun went down and dusk began to fall, yet the scout led steadily onward through the gathering night. Inasmuch as Little Cayuse’s misfortune was a mystery, the scout and his pards could not know but that haste on their part might be necessary in order to save the boy from some desperate calamity. push ahead rapidly rather than to tarry along and take chances. As the scout rode, his eyes constantly searched the shadows in advance for a glimpse of the two rocks called the The Friars by Pedro. The country was not rough, in the immediate vicinity of the Rio Piedra, and, in spite of the darkness, the scout felt sure he could not miss the rocks once they loomed up ahead. _ Four hours of saddle-work, angling back and_ forth With the stream, brought the horsemen to the objects | for which they were looking. The twin rocks, forty feet high, rose upward out of the scrub, grotesque silhouettes of friars, hooded and gowned, “Here,” said Buffalo Bill, one rein’ between the rocks, “is where we eave the Rio Piedra and lay a course due north.” Was. he following Cayuse?” 39 Cayuse left Pagosa Springs in the fore- Anyhow, it was better to’ Sa SSS a ee ae a a When they came closer, the trapper. hill’s base, was a circular patch of shadow. THE BUFFALO “And keep going oct eS finished Wild Bill, “until we find a blue hill with a cross on it. There’s no moon to- night, Pard Cody, and if we keep on we're liable to get off the course and miss that blue hill altogether.” - Wild Bill’s logic was too clear to’ admit of question. Much as they all wanted to proceed without delay, yet they realized that they would have to halt until morning. With the first streak of dawn they could take the trail again. Reluctantly the scout dismounted and gave the order to unsaddle. _ The horses were hobbled, the grub-bags raided again, and then the pards lay down to sleep, heads pillowed on / their saddles, and with Yuppah on guard, The Apaches, throughout the night, took turns at sen- try-duty. The last man to go-.on watch was Chappo. When the first gray of morning showed in the east, Chappo aroused Buffalo Bill. The horses were at once caught up, watered, and sad- dled. What food the pards ate that morning was bolted as they galloped. Ahead of them, in the north, the bastions of the San Juan Range slowly unfolded in the gathering light. An hour after sunrise the horsemen eained ae foot- hills. They kept as straight a due north course as possible, through the rough country, and from every rise they surmounted their eyes sought eagerly for the blue hill and the cross. “Mebbyso Jenkins was right in his surmises, Buffler,” said Nomad, “an’ thet thar “Pedro didn’t know what he was torkin’ erbout.”’ “His directions have panned out pretty well, so , far” the scout answered, “and I don’t know why we shouldn’t expect to find that blue hill.” “The whole range looks blue to me,’ Bile This was a fact, but it was an illusion due to distance. the blue color faded into raw reds and burned siennas, that glowed brightly under the mounting sun. Just one blue spot was left in the chain of uplifts that fronted the pards, and that was off to the right. ay reckon thet’s ther blue hill, Buffler,”’ arousing himself hopefully and pointing. “We must have got off the due north trail a little,” ” spoke ue Wild said Nomad, returned te scout, sea the. course was swerved more to the east. As they came closer and eee to the blue spot, its vivid emerald hue increased; and presently, like a couple of white slashes in the hill’s side, a cross showed itself. “lm er Piegan ef thet thar Pedro wasn’t right,” cried “No matter whar he got his infermation from, et was shore ther straight goods.” On coming closer to the foot c the hill, they discov- ‘ered that it was some five liundred feet long by a hun- dred high—an irregular oblong square from the front. It’s southes rn slope was steep and rocky, both rocks and back