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Mssued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NV. Y.
Copyright, 1910, dy STREET & SMITH.

No. 467 NEW YORK, APRIL 23, 1910. Price, Five Cents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

Between the goat, and Uncle Gus, and the Chinaman there were lively times. Buffalo Bill, hurrying
to the scene, stooped to pick up a letter that had dropped from the Chinaman’s sleeve.
eet

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No. 467.

rach ig aaah ie

 

 

Burro Cafion to Adobe Wells.
_ bottle in the cast-off army blouse he had picked up at

 

 

 

tssued Weekly.

 

By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. V. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 19-89 Seventh Ave., N. ee
Copyright, 1910, by STREET & SMITH.

 

NEW YORK, April 23, 1910.

Price Five Cents. .

 

BUFFALO BILL’S GOLDEN WONDER

OR,

A Hard Fight for

aD

Luck.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER I.
THE TRAIL OF GOLD.

Old Taranch McBride was thunderstruck; as soon as
he could recover his wits and his voice, he gave a jubi-
lant yell that reverberated between the walls of the
cafion and went down on his knees.

He had abundant cause for astonishment and exulta-
tion, In front of him, glistening brightly on the bare
sand, lay a twenty-dollar gold piece.

Now a tatfantula is a furry desert spider about the
shape of a “daddy longlegs,” and of about the same size,
but full of a deadly venom that causes it to be avoided
by. desert travelers. The nickname of “Taranch” had
been given McBride by those who knew him, because
he had a nature like that of the poisonous spider, and

- was to be similarly avoided.

McBride was a desert wanderer. His home was the
wilderness, which he traveled on foot, migrating as
fancy seized him from one water hole to another.
Whenever he could steal anything worth while, he stole
it; and whenever he could sell a fake mine to an unsus-
pecting tenderfoot, he did that, too; and if begging from
the unwary looked as though it might bring results, he
begged. All in all, he was a dangerous man, and un-
scrupulous to the last degree.

Aust now Taranch McBride was en route along Lost
There was a_ whisky

e

Fort Grant; and, suspended over his shoulder by a rope,
there was a battered canteen of water. A roll, consist-
ing of a large bandanna handkerchief knotted at the cor-
ners, contained what was left of a roasted chuckwallah
and half a pound of crackers.

A slouch hat with a flapping crown made a pretense
of covering McBride’s shock of red hair; an old belt
supported his torn corduroy trousers, as well as an old-
fashioned. pistol that had to be loaded like a rifle and
fired with a brass cap; and his feet were covered with
very good moccasins, recently “lifted” from a wandering
red man.

For a man like Taranch to come upon a twenty-dollar
gold piece, there in a desolate cafion miles from any-
body, was a stroke of luck that looked well-nigh miracu-
lous. Naturally, he had doubted. the eviflence of his
eyes. It was only after he had picked wp the coin and
bit it, that he became fairly sure he was not asleep.

“Snakes an’ centipedes!” he breathed, getting slowly
to his feet, “whoever could ’a’ lost that?. Some sojer,
I reckon, must a been ridin’ through the cafion an”
let that slip out 0’ his jeans. Waal, it’s mine now, an’
it'll buy stuff.in Solomonsville—stuff I can’t git without
buyin’. Shucks! Who says this ain’t my day fer luck?”

With a bounding heart Taranch pouched the gold
and started on along the cafion. Twenty-five steps
farther his heart stopped again, and then began hitting
his ribs like a trip-hammer. He rubbed his dirty, cal-
loused hands across his eyes and gasped.

In front of him lay another twenty-dollar gold piece!

 
   
 

 

 

 

 

Oi tes neers (a 6 li i in AA Rg Rg ON ag pe ean a AT re NTT

2 THE BUFFALO

“Waal, by all the seven cats o’ Tophet,” he breathed;
“what fer kind of a piece o’ luck hev I butted inter?
Another un, an’ drapped by the same sojer, [Ml bet a
tow o’ ‘dobes he was a mighty sick sojer when he got
ter Grant an’ found that there hole in his pocket. Say,
fer a nice genteel dip, I reckon I’m about all ter the
good this here pasear.”

He took the coin, bit it, pouched it, and his joy was
well-nigh delirious as he proceeded on his way.

Then, after another twenty-five steps over the barren
sand, he found a third coin.
This luck was so unusual that he began to have fears.
He kicked himself around in a circle by way of making
sure that he was awake, and then he pinched himself in
sundry places. Finally he decided that he was his
normal self, and that some man had followed the ‘cafion
leaking treasure from a hole in a canvas bag, or other
defective receptacle.

With nerves shaken by this unexpected stroke of for-
tune, Taranch sat down in the shade of a bowlder, and
filled and lighted a cob pipe.

What should he do with all the yellow treasure he was
going to pick up? Buy a placer somewhere and pan-out
grubstakes, now and then, to carry him wherever he
wanted to go? Or should he buy a riding horse and a
burro, go down between Grant and Huachuca, and
gather a gang of other arabs and outfit them for preda-
tory. work: 7

His mind ran instinctively to lawlessness, Thoughts
of lawlessness calmed his excited nerves, and when the
pipeful of tobacco was smoked out he got up and fol-
lowed the golden trail.

-Ten coins, all lying at regular intervals, were picked
ups The last coin of the ten lay in\the entrance of a
narrow gully that opened through the left-hand wall of
the cafion, The sides of the gully were thickly grown
with. greasewood bushes. _

“Mad for more wealth, Taranch pushed on through the
bushes, his eager eyes down and his fingers itching.
Then he found rather more than he had expected.

. With disconcerting suddenness, he was caught by four
bare, sinewy arms, thrown. down on his back, and lashed
wrist and ankle with buckskin thongs.

Taranch had had no time to defend ee So
swiftly and effectively was the attack executed, that he
was down and tied before he fairly realized what was
going on.
~ After he was helpless, he discovered that his. captors
were Apaches. They were naked to the waist, and red
flannel head bands encircled their temples and their long,
greasy black hair.

“What's this fer?’ howled Taranch, struggling vainly,

The two Indians jabbered at him fiercely, and pointed
to. the moccasins on his feet.

“Was you the red I got them off of?’ inquired
Taranch, staring hard at one of the Apaches. “Ye re
makin’ a heap o’ fuss, seems like, fer one leetle pair o’
mocks. But, say, I'll pay ye fer ’em. I’m a good friend
o’ the ’Pachies,” he whined, “an’ you an’ me hadn’t ort
ter. hev. no trouble. Le’me loose, an’ I'll give ye a yaller
NOY.”

The Indians jabbered some more; then, lifting
Taranch by the neck and heels, they trotted through the
gully with him, and into a circular basin. walled with the
precipitous walls of high hills.

BILL STORIES.

There was grass in the basin’s bottom, and in its cen-
tre a water hole, Hobbled in the vicinity of the water
were at least twenty Indian cayuses. Moving among
them were a score of Apaches.

Yells from the two who had carried Taranch through
the gully brought all the red men around the prisoner
and captors, They stared at. him with taunting eyes,
and kicked the feet that inclosed the stolen moccasins.

Not only that, but one of the redskins took all the
gold from Taranch’s pocket.

The old arab went into a rage with the thought that

all his wealth was to be taken from him just on account

of a pair of moccasins worth, intrinsically, four bits.

The leader of the Apaches—who was also one of the
two captors—called an order to one of the clamoring

bucks. The redskin bounded into the brush, and re-
turned with a canvas bag. The bag jingled as he threw
it down.

Thereupon the leader picked up the bag, opened the
top, and showered a glittering heap of gold pieces on
the ground close to the amazed Taranch. |
sandhills!” shouted Taranch.
“It was all a frame-up! Ye-spread that there trail ter
git me inter the gully. Where'd ye git that gold, an’
what did ye go ter all the trouble ter nab me fer?”

“You want um gold?’ demanded the leader.

i WE ant um?” stuttered. Taranch.

“You heap fine thief,” went on the peda “you
steal um moccasins from Injun. Plenty fine! Buenos!
You take um gold, take um big pile oro dinero, you, do
job for "Pachies,”

“Waal, Pll berdurn!’’ muttered Taranch. “They fixed
it upon. me on purpose. What d’ye want?” he asked.

“You sabe Pa-e-has-ka, the Long-haired: Chief?”
went on the leader. “Me Time-o’-day, hot tomolla.
You sabe me, all same. Mebbyso you sabe Pa-e-
has-ka?”’

Under his tan old Taranch went white. .
‘Pa-e-has-ka? No, and he didn’t want to know. him.
He was bad medicine for desert thieves.

“Pa-e-has-ka all same in Solomonsville,’. pursued
Time-o’-day. “You go Solomonsville, ketch um skull of
Narbona, big: ’Pachie totem from Pa-e-has-ka, bring um
to Time-o’ -day, you ketch um ore dinero. Me ae um,
sabe?”
~*Tn other words,” returned Taranch, his. ree, eyes
on the heap of elittering gold, “you want me ter go ter
Solomonsville, find Buffler Bill, steal from him what ye
call the skull o’ Narbona, bring it out here ter you, an’
ye give me all them valler boys. Is that ther game?”

“Buenos!” nodded the Indian. “You heap fine thief,
si! All same steal um moccasins from Injun. You
make um heap easy steal um skull from Pa-e-has-ka,”

“What d’ye want o’ that skull, hey?”

“Him heap big medicine, Me want um bad.”

“Waal, I ain’t er goin’ ter put myself in ther hands
o Buffler Bill ter help out a lot o’ renegade reds. What
d’ye take me fer?”

Well would it have been for Taranch if he had stuck
to this decision. But when the Apaches began sharpen-
ing their knives and collecting their lances, evidently
with the intention of trying a little torture, the prisoner
changed his mind,

ae. could save his life by promising to. go after the

“By the seven jumpin’

ne

“Did: he know

PN

 
Oe a

=

==

 

THE BUFFALO

skull. When he once got clear of the cafion, he needn’t
. come back unless he wanted to.

So he promised, was released, fed by his Indian cap-
tors, thrown from the mouth of the gully into the
cafion, and ordered fiercely to go on to Solomonsville ;
and he was further threatened that, if he played the red
men false, they would camp on his trail and take his red
scalp. The Apaches knew that Taranch’s home was the
desert, and that, if he was not true to his promise, they
could find him and take vengeance.

Taranch knew what the Apaches were thinking, but
he also had an idea that he could go farther north and
escape from them.

Fortune had smiled on Taranch McBride only to
frown the darker. As he shuffled along the cafion, his
mind returned to that heap of gold pieces, and he won-
dered if he could not, after all, keep faith with the rene-
gades and gather in the tribute.

Fle would wait until he got to Solomonsville, He de-
cided, and then make the move that seemed best and
promised most profit.

CHAPIER If.
TIME-O'-DAY, APACHE.

Colonel Osborne, jogging from Fort Thomas to Fort
Grant with an escort, laid over for a few hours at Solo-
monsville. His first request, as soon as he had entered
the adobe hotel, was for news of Buffalo Bill.

As it chanced, the king of scouts was abroad in the
camp at that moment. The colonel had put his question
to an aged negro in an.old top hat and an ancient, black
frock coat, who sat in great dignity in the office.

“Yo’s one ob de gemman from de fo’t, sah?” said the
negro.

Ves” snapped the colanel.

“Yo” bizness wif de scout is ’potant bizness ?”

“What’s that to you?’ demanded the colonel. “An-
swer my question: Do you know where Buffalo Bill is?”

“Ah’s gwine tuh bring him heah, sah.”

The negro removed his silk hat, and placed it care-
fully on the table; then he pushed back the sleeves of
his coat and walked sidewise around the table, his black,
skinny hands stretched out toward the hat.

“Debble take cat, cat bring Marse Cody,’ he kept
mumbling ; “debble take cat, cat bring Marse Cody.”

The colonel gasped and stared; then, as he thought
the negro was trying to trifle with him, his temper rose.

“Here, you black imp!” he roared. “By gad, if you're
trying to play horse with me I'll scatter you all over
hie, Diaces:

The negro pulled in his hands and turned around.
Jim, the clerk, was: down on his knees, looking around
the end of the counter, choking with the fun of the
thing.

“Ah wants yo’ tuh know, sah,” said the aged darky,
“dat Ah’s. Marse Cody’s official mascot, yase, suh.
When he’s wanted, Ah brings ’im; en Ah brings de luck
what pulls him froo all de tribb’lations en trials ob his
perdickamous careeah. Bein’ boss ob de Cody luck
ain't no easy wok. Ah’s a’most down tuh: skin an’
bones fightin’ off dat Johnny Hardluck en squelchin’
Jonah. Hannibal Augustus Mark Antony Jones is de
label whut Ah tote, but to Marse Cody en his gemman

PACS Tae Aca RGSS AAMT Aas cI VAAL SN STARR POLL RaNAAS WI ess) OS ISSA DAL MALY HOURS aN ean TAI GE eA ES

BILL STORIES.

G3

pards Ah’s Uncle Gus. Jess yo’ wait, suh, while Ah
incants en brings Marse Cody to dis hotel.”

Thereupon Uncle Gus proceeded with his mumbling,
his moving around the table, and his pawing the air in
the vicinity of the high hat.

The colonel stared at him with falling jaw, then
dropped into a chair, and swept his bewildered eyes
around the room.

Jim, the clerk, having smothered back some of his
hilarity, had arisen from the floor, and was now leaning
over the counter.

‘What in the fiend’s name is this nigger trying to
do?” demanded the colonel.

“He’s er workin’ a spell, kunnel,”’ replied Jim gravely,
“to bring Buffler Bill ter the hotel so’st ye kin talk with
him,”

“Tt’s all infernal nonsense!” fumed the colonel. “Do
you know where Buffalo Bill is? Dm in a hurry to see
him?

“Here he is, kunnel,’ announced Jim.

At that precise moment Buffalo Bill, quite by chance,
of course, and not at all by reason of Uncle Gus’ in-

cantation, entered the office. Uncle Gus,~ however,
whirled around.
“Dar he is, sah,’ said he to the colonel. “Ah done

3 93

brung Marse Cody fo’ yo’.

Thereupon the old humbug: put on his hat, pulled

‘down his sleeves, and complacently resumed his chair.

“Well, colonel,” laughed the scout, “I saw the horses
of your escort in front, and came along with the idea
that some one may have come from Grant or Thomas
to see me. Was I right?’

“You were right, exactly right,” answered the colonel,
taking the scout’s hand. “But who’s that black spell-
binder ?”

“My official mascot, colonel,’ and the scout accom-
panied the words with a general wink. “He knows
more about luck in a year than some other people do
ina minute.”

There was little humor in the colonel’s make-up. He
was a good fellow, and the rank and file thought a lot
of him, but he was a stern disciplinarian. He grunted
sarcastically, and pulled the scout down in a chair be-
side him.

“You’re right, Cody; I do want to see you,” said he,

“and it’s about that bunch of renegade Apaches that was

lured ffom the reservation by the fellow called Boston
Pete. As you very well know, Pete went robbing and
plundering through the hills until you and your pards,
at the request of the governor, camped on his trail and
captured him. After that, a man named Sangamon
Charlie tried to get the leadership of the red gang, and
you went after Sangamon and laid him by the heels.
Boston Pete and Sangamon Charlie are both in the
euardhouse at Grant, and it was supposed that the
Apaches were all on the way back to the reservation—
but that was a mistake.” _

“Mistake?” echoed the scout.
“Exactly! returned the colonel. “The reds haven't
shown, up at the reservation, and we have discovered
that a scoundrelly Apache, who has been hiding out
across the line in Mexico for the good of his health,
has returned and is trying to get control of the gang.”

“This is news to me.” said the scout. “Who is this
scheming Apache?”

 
a aR a

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pssetelagh etl earo

 

aoe rion nat

the Apache Totem; or, The Skull of Narbona.”

TN Sa a ae SSE a SO ERS eS ET eS

4 : THE BUFFALO

“They call him Time-o’-day, and he’s as full of guile
and venom as a rattlesnake. If he once secures the con-
fidence of those redskins there’ll be more bloodshed and
trouble in these hills than the military authorities have
seen around here in some time. 'Combing the hills with
troopers won't suffice to capture the fellow. He knows
every niche and cranny of the mountains, and can van-
ish in'a flash and leave not a trace behind. You, and
your pards, Cody, are adept in running down such slip-
pery scoundrels. Vve ben talking with the commander
at Thomas, and we’re of the opinion that if any one
can get hands on Time-o'-day, you’re the man. If you
want troopers to help you, call for them from either
post. But the Apache must be captured, one way or
another. This is the chance we have been waiting for.
We couldn’t very well go into Mexico after him, you
understand, and now that he’s ventured on-this side of
the border, we’ve got to make sure that he doesn’t re-
cross the line again.”

“Where did you get word that Time-o’-day had made
this move, colonel?’ inquired the scout.

“From some of our red trailers.”

“What do the trailers say?”

“They say that Time-o’-day is telling the renegades
that Narbona ordered him to come to them, and that
they are to get the skull of Narbona and follow its
counsels.” :

The “skull of Narbona” was an Apache totem. Bos-.

ton Pete had used it, and Sangamon Charlie had tried
to use it. The scout, after a series of thrilling exploits,
had secured the totem, and now had it in the hotel with
him.*

“Time-o’-day will never secure the skull of Narbona,
colonel,” declared the scout. “It is now in my posses-
sion. Anyhow, its power for evil is gone.”

“Trust Time-o’-day to use the skull for his evil pur-
poses if he ‘ever gets hold of it,” returned the colonel.
“T tell you, he’s one of the shrewdest and most unscru-
pulous Apaches anywhere in these parts. He has con-
vinced the reds that the totem has not ordered them
back to their reservation, that he is going to get hold of
it, and that they are to run amuck through the hills and
pillage and plunder just as they used to do. Time-o’-
day has got to be captured and put in the guardhouse
along with Boston Pete and Sangamon Charlie. And
there’s no time to lose. Will you take the work?”

“T’m anxious to clean up the slate, colonel,’ answered
the scout. “Whenever I do a piece of work I want to
do it well. Besides, you can’t use any halfway measures.
in dealing with those superstitious reds. I’m sure the
Apaches will be all right when they’re once back on
the reservation.”

“So am I.. The question is to get them back and put
this Time-o’-day where he won't cause any trouble.
He’s a firebrand.”

“Well, my word for it, he'll never get the totem,’
said Buffalo Bill confidently. “And if he can’t get the
totem, the Apaches won't listen to him when he counsels
lawlessness.”

“That’s only half the proposition, Cody. The fellow
must be corralled and landed at Grant. Will you take
the job?”

“I’m subject to your orders, colonel. Of course I'll

 

*See No. 466 of the BurraLto BILL SrortEs, “Buffalo, Bill and

wo

BILL, STORIES.

take the job. It’s necesary in order to polish off this
piece of work that brought me and my pards here.”

“If you succeed, you'll please the governor as much
as you will me.
ou 99

“You said yourself that troopers are useless.”

“They are, so far as catching Time-o’-day is con-
cerned, But when it comes to driving the reds back
where they belong, why, a good, big detachment may
be of service.”

“That is possible. However, I’m of the opinion that
the renegades will go back to their reservation fast
enough as soon as Time-o’-day is got out of the way.”

“Will you begin the work at once?’

“As soon as | can round-up my pards, colonel. The
baron is here, and so is little Cayuse, the Piute boy, but
Nomad and Wild Bill are away to the south. They'll
be back this afternoon, and we-can start some time
to-night.”

“Good!” approved the colonel. “The thing I like about
you, Cody, is your promptness; also the hurricane hustle
you get on whenever there’s anything ahead of you. I
feel entirely satisfied that before many days—perhaps
hours—have passed, this dangerous Apache lawbreaker
will be where he can cause no further trouble.”

A Chinaman showed his head in the doorway leading
into the dining room.

“Dinna leddy!” he shouted.

As the scout and the colonel got up and started for
the dining room, an unsavory person shuffled into the
office. He wore an old slouch hat with a flapping crown,
a tattered army blouse and moccasins.

The scout and the colonel gave him little attention as
they moved on toward the rear room.

 

Fenn

CHAPTER II.
THE MISSING TOTEM.

The ten troopers who formed the colonel’s escort ate
at one table, while the scout, the colonel, the baron, and
Little Cayuse ate at another. Uncle Gus drew the color-
line and ate in the kitchen with the Chinaman. Black
and yellow mixed no more than black and white, but
the mystic requirements of a mascot seemed to insist
that Uncle Gus keep himself secluded as much as pos-
sible.

Talk at the state table circled around mascots, and

around Uncle Gus in particular. The scout explained to
the colonel that the black mascot afforded himself and
his pards a little harmless amusement, and that they tol-
erated the old fraud because of the fun to be got out
of him.

The colonel frowned. Fun and business never mixed
with him, and he couldn’t see the humor of having a
useless old negro around.

For a day or two the baron, jealous of the attentions
paid Uncle Gus, had been sneering at the old negro’s
pretensions.

“A plack feller,’ asserted the baron, “ain’d no more
oof a mascot as me. Dot’s righdt. A goat iss a pedder
mascot as anyting vat you know. I pought vone dis
morgen.”

“Bought one?” echoed the scout; “one—what?”

If you need any troopers to help —

sn

 

 
 

tinsky iss des goat's naine,

 

Fe ai Re ae ea eB aN Eee ap ea ey eee gn Mane zee Toomer sR Te

THE BUFFALO

“Goat, py shinks! An Irisher feller hat a goat und
he soldt him py me. Dere iss a mascot, Puffalo Pill,
vat iss vort’ talking aboudt. Someding say in mine ear
dot ve haf a hardt fighdt for luck, pympy, so I take on
der goat. Py shiminy grickeds, dot goat can gif Uncle
Gus cardts, und sphades, und leedle gasino, und den
beat him oudt on der luck game. Der old plack feller
makes me so diret as I can’t tell.”

“Why, baron,” laughed the scout, “you and Uncle Gus
used to be great friends. What's happened to make you
feel that way toward him?”

“Ach,” scowled the baron, “he makes sooch grand-
shtand blays mit himseluf. Vild Pill got der olt siluk
hat und der long coat for der plack feller, und since der
mascot vear dose foolish tings, he iss so high’ und
mighdty dot he von’t shpeak mit me. I ged dot goat
dis. afdernoon, und den you see someding. Pilly But-
und for Puffalo Pill und
Vild Pill vat iss pedder as a goat named Pilly? Der
[risher feller say dot der goat vas varranted to butt into
all kindts oof hardt luck und knock him oudt oof der
vay. Schust flag him mit a ret rag, und Pilly Buttinsky
iss vorse as a drain oof cars. Vait a leedle, und you see
vat you see.’

“We can’t load up vent a goat, baron,” said thé scout.
“How are we going to carry an animal Tike that around
with us?”

“Ve don’t carry him avay from Solomonsfille,” an-
swered the baron. ‘Vile ve shday here it iss long enough
to led der goat show he iss pedder as a luck-pringer dan
vat der plack feller iss. Dot’s all. I show you some-
ding, py shimineddy.”

The colonel frowned at the baron.

“Surely,”. said he, “you are not so superstitious as to
believe that a dumb animal can bring a human being
any luck?”

' “I know vat I know, ablawel?
mysteriously.

“What rank, nonsense, Cody!’ muttered the colonel,
with a disgusted look at the scout. “I never thought
any of your pards could be so foolish.”

Buffalo Bill was inwardly convulsed, although out-
wardly he received the colonel’s comments with a grave
face.

“They're not so foolish as they seem,
borne,’’ said he.
that’s all.”’

“A leedle fun iss der spice oof life,’ grinned the baron.
“Vat I vant iss to dake der crimps oudt oof dot plack fel-
ler: Der goat iss..a pedder mascot as him, und I vill
prove it, yah, so helup me,’

“Be careful you don’t make trouble for yourself. baron,
that’s all,’ warned the scout.

“Der only feller vat I make drouple for iss Uncle Gus.
I vill show him oop as a faker in der mascot game.
Schust keep your vedder-eye on der paron und vatch his
shmoke.”

“You say you have the totem here in this hotel, Buffalo
Bill?” inquired the colonel, anxious to change the sub-
ject.

"Yes, replied: the’ scout, “it's in’ mv -toom:;
tending to send it back to the governor.”

“They say that the skull used to move around ap-
parently of its own volition, in a most uncanny way. Of
course that was nonsense.”

returned the baron

Colonel Os-
“They like a little fun now and then,

T’m. in-

     

BIET, STORIES: , 5

“Tt really moved, colonel. There was no nonsense
about that.’

“But it’s unreasonable to suppose that a piece of
human anatomy like that could be endowed with mo-
tion.”

“Not unreasonable—in this case. There was a horned
toad concealed in the skull. The toad, trying to get out,
caused the totem to move.”

“Ah!? murmured the colonel, and, for the first time,
the shadow of a smile overspread his face. “I had
that totem in my hands once, and it was I who sent
it to the governor in the first place. But it never moved
while I had possession of the thing.”

“It was taken from the governor by a forged letter,
colonel, and the person who took it fixed it up with the
horned toad.”

“Naturally, there was a trick about it. I think, when
I go on to Grant, that I had better take the totem with
me. It will be safer in Grant, perhaps, than, here in
this hotel.”’

“Very well, colonel. Ill get the totem for you as
soon as we are through dinner.”

While this talk was proceeding in the dining room,
Jim, the clerk, was having some dealings with the un-
savory stranger who had entered the office just as the
Chinaman announced dinner.

“What's yer bizness?” Jim demanded, coming around
the counter and addressing the stranger.
“My bizness ain’t yore bizness, is it?”

rejoinder.

The ragged individual was leaning over the register,

was the insolent

running a dirty forefinger over the names inscribed
there.

“Don’t git gay with me,’ scowled Jim. “What ye look-
i lotr:

‘Lookin’ ter see whar Buffler Bill's. room is,

bizness with Buffler Bill.”

“The likes 0’ you ain’t got any bizness with the
scout,” scoffed Jim. ‘‘The way I size ye up, ye’re a no-
‘count desert roamer, an’ if we want ter keep anythin’
in this hotel while we're here we got ter nail it down.
Scatter! We don‘t want ye here.’

“My name’s McBride,” declared the stranger, ‘an’

I got

Tm a prospector with a good thing up my sleeve. I

want ter put Buffler Bill next.”

“Go on, now,’ growled Jim truculently, thoroughly
convinced that the man was there for«no good purpose.
“Git out or I'll throw ye out.”

Taranch showed his teeth like an angry wolf; then,
with one reassuring look at the ragged register, he
turned on his heel and shambled through the door.

He was gone for at least twenty minutes. At the end
of that time, Buffalo Bill and Colonel Osborne came
out of the dining room,

“Just a ae colonel,’ said the scout,
that for you.”

McBride must have been watching through the office
window, for at that moment he came into the room from
the porch.

“Buffler Bill!” he called,

The scout halted and turned around. For a moment
his keen eyes traveled over the desert arab.

“Well?” he asked curtly.

He had swiftly taken the man’s measure, and, of
course, was far from being favorably impressed.

“and ll get

 
 

THE BUFFALO

“I got somethin’ ter show ye,” went on McBride.

Digging up a small parcel from the depths of one of
his pockets he proceeded to unwrap several yards of
twine. When the twine was unwrapped he unrolled a
piece of dirty white cloth, and an ore sample dropped
into his hand. The sample was about thelsize of a
walnut, and was fuzzed over with wire-gold.

“What d’ye think o’ that?” inquired McBride, in a_

hushed tone, handing the bit of ore to the scout.
oe pretty,” answered Buffalo Bill. “But what
of it?

McBride drew closer and whispered hoarsely: “I
know where there’s er mounting o’ that stuff, Puffler
Bill.”

The scout laughed and returned the sample.

“Tm not biting to-day, my man,” he answered.
trick is too old.” .

“There ain’t no trick about it,’ protested McBride.
“T’m_a pore prospector, an’ I got ter have money ter live
on, (ll sell ye the hullco” the prospect er a patt o” et:
er [’ll give ye an intrust fer a grubstake. Say, I ain’t
got enough dinero in my clothes fer a meal, an’ I ain’t
had a thing ter eat fer two days——”

The scout turned on Jim.

“Give this fellow a square meal, Jim,”
charge it to me.’

“We don’t feed that kind 0’ tle here, Buffler Bill,”
growled Jim.

“Well, the man says he’s hungry.
Por once.”

“Seein’ as how ye’re the one as asks it,” said Jim,
“T reckon we'll go ye. But the feller ain’t no good; I
kin tell that by the look o’ him.”

McBride was carefully wrapping up his ore sample.
After he had tied the string and pushed the sample deep
down into his pocket, he turned wrathfully on the clerk.

“I’m some seedy,” said he, “I admit, but I’m jest in
from a hard hike through the hills. What’s the use 0’
comin’ down hard on a pore feller what’s doin’ his best
ter git along?”

“Oh, come on!” and Jim grabbed him by the shoulder
and pulled him out into the dining room.

The scout hurried on into the hall, and along the
hall to his room. He came back in about two minutes.

“T’m up a stump, colonel,” said he, his face troubled.
~ “The totem is gone.”

“Gone?” echoed the colonel, startled.

“Ves, and it haS been taken within two hours. It was
in a bag, in my satchel. But it isn’t there now. _Who’s
been here within the last two hours, Jim?” he queried,
turning to the clerk.

“Only you an’ them three fellers out on the bench in
front, the kunnel, the baron, the leetle Piute, an’ that—
that tramp ye jest sent in ter dinner.”

“Round them up,’ said the scout sharply.
get to the bottom of this.”

“The

said\ he, “and

Break your rule

“We'll.

 

URAL TER AV,
THE KETTLE TRICK.

In short order Jim had several suspects in the office.
The three men on the bench in front of the hotel were
town idlers, frowsy frontier specimens who might, or
might not, be above stealing. As soon as they and the

BILL STORIES.

strange prospector were lined up, the office was com-
fortably filled. Uncle Gus, in all his majesty, was there,
along with the baron and Little Cayuse.

_ “Men,” announced the scout, “some one went into my
room and took a bag from my satchel. That bag con-
tained something that can’t be of any earthly use to any

of you. I’m not saying that any of you took it, mind, for

I don’t want to do any one an injustice; but the bag
is gone, and I’ve got to do what I can to find it. Do
any of you know anything about it?”

All protested that they didn’t know a thing about the
bag.

Phat feller,” said Jim, leveling a finger at McBride,

“was lookin’ over the register ter find where Buffler
Bill’s room was.’

“T thort he was in his room,’ averred McBride, “an
I wanted ter talk bizness with him.”

“Bosh! Say, ye seen him goin’ inter the dinin’ room
with the kunnel.”  /

| Natys 1 didn't.” %

“Did he go into the hall, Jim: >?” queried the scout.

“He went out the front door,” replied the clerk.

“Vell,” suggested the baron, “meppy he got in droo
der oudtsite vinder. Some fellers haf got droo der oudt-
site vingler pefore.”

“Why aire ye suspectin’ me when these other three
fellers was around?” whined McBride. “I dunno nothin’
*bout the bag. ,I come ter see Buffler Bill on bizness ;
an’, anyways, I ain’t no thief.”

“Yer looks aire agin ye,’ averred Jim grimly.

So far as that was concerned, the looks of at least
four ~were against them. The scout was nonplused.
One of the four might be guilty, and it was possible
that none of the four was guilty. The totem could have
been removed from the hotel, and hidden in some safe
place; but, after taking the totem, why should the thief
remain around the hotel?

“This is a serious matter,’ spoke up the colonel,
very much worked up over the theft. ‘The loss of that
totem may mean a world of trouble in the hills to the
south. It’s got to be found, Cody, if it’s a possible
thing. You know that as well as I do.”

The scout nodded, and sank thoughtfully into a chair.
During the silence that followed, Uncle Gus placed his
high hat carefully on the table and began moving around
it. Y
“Debble take cat, cat find totem,” he mumbled; “debble
take cat, cat find totem.”

“Stop that black humbug!’ fretted the colonel.
is no time for such foolishness.”

‘Uncle Gus turned around with an aggrieved look.

“Ah kin find de feller whut took de totem;’ he des
clared.

“We haven’t any time to waste in nonsense, Giicle
Gus,” said the scout.

“Marse Cody,” went on the negro,
de kittle: trick?

“Kettle trick?” echoed the scout.

“Yassuhy de kittle trick. Dar’s a kittle out back ob
de kitchum whut de Chinee has been er makin’ sof’
soap in; an’ dar’s er rooster in de chickum coop. Hab
dem toted intuh de office heah, en Ah shows yo’ de
trick.

“I haven't any time for this tomfoolery,”. grunted the

colonel, “If no one here took the totem, we'll have to
be hunting for it elsewhere.”

“This

“will yo’ lesme try

i

 

 

aE UT Mfr aii ene ae an esate eon Maren rerinie tM anes tel MAMI TP" i se
Ae

 

 

mascot iss to vork some more shpells.

 

ee en a

Tal tee cea mallee callie acral DMA AEN

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. : 7

“Just a minute, colonel,” interposed the scout. “Jt
won't take long for Uncle Gus to work his kettle trick.
Jim,” and the scout turned to the clerk, “bring in the
rooster and the kettle,”

“Vat a foolishness!’ snorted the baron. ‘Der plack
For vy does
he vant a keddle und a roosder? Meppy so | pedder go
und ged der goat, huh?”

The four suspects were deeply interested, but they did

not seem at all nervous. The scout watched them

closely.

With a grunt of disgust the colonel dropped down in
a chair.

“We're losing valuable time, Cody,” said he. “If there
was a chance of accomplishing anything I wouldn’t say a
word, but it looks like time recklessly thrown away.” &

“Perhaps, colonel,” answered the scout, “the time
may not be thrown away.”

Jim and the Chinaman brought in the kettle and the
rooster. Uncle Gus, walking importantly up and down
the office, ordered the black, soot-covered kettle to be

turned upside down in the centre of the room, and the
rooster to be put under it.

‘The colonel watched proceedings with contemptuous
eyes and scornful lip.

“All de doors must be shut en locked,” said Uncle
Gus, “en we got tuh hab hit da’k in heah—so da’k dat
one ob us kain’t see de odder. De prognosticums won't
wo’k ef dar’s any light.’

The doors were closed and fastened. Jim, somewhat

excited and mighty curious, put a blanket over one of
the two office windows.

He was just on the point of

screening the other when Uncle Gus called out for him

to wait a minute.

“Yo' all whut’s suspected,” said the black mascot, “git
in line, one behind de odder.’’

They all got in line—all except the colonel, the scout

and the clerk. Uncle Gus placed himself at the head of
the procession.

“Now, den,” proceeded Uncle Gus, “when dat ’ar win-
duh is kivered, en de da’kness ob night is all erround
us, den we all is gwine tuh ma’ch erroun’ de kittle; an’
while we’s er-ma chin’ Ah’ll sing. As each one passes

de kittle, he’ll tech hit wif his lef’ hand.”

“What good’s that going to do?” demanded the col-

_onel, interested in spite of himself in all this claptrap.

: is more than I can stand.

rf “Why, sah, Marse Kunnel,” Uncle Gus answered, in
all seriousness, “when de tief tech de kittle wif his lef’
hand, dat ’ar rooster is done ewine ter crow. Yase, suh,
he’s shore gwineter crow. Da’s right, sah.. Ah done

‘lows de rooster is gwineter crow.”

“this crazy foolishness
1’ll go outside and wait.”
“Don’t be in a rush, colonel,’ said. the scout sooth-
ingly. ‘Wait, and you may see something here that will
surprise you.”
Jim finished placing the blanket over the window.
“TIl get in line myself,” he laughed. “Uncle Gus is

“Cody,” rasped out the colonel,

“sure workin’ a queer hocus pocus, an’ I want ter. set
my ownself right on this here robbery propersition.”

The baron was tickled almost out of his boots. Uncle

Gus was about to give himself away under the most

dramatic circumstances, and the baron hoped that his
ridiculous pretensions would be settled for good and all.

“Hold your breat’, eferypody,e’ chuckled the baron,
“und hear dot roosder make some noise under der keddle.

Vat oof he shouldt grow dwice? Und vat oof he should
grow ven Uncle Gus reaches oudt und lays his handt on
der keddle ? Ach, vat a funny pitzness.”

“Ts yo’ ready ?” inquired Uncle Gus, in cavernous tones.

“Ready!” ran along the line.

“Den traipse erlong afteh Uncle Gus.”

The scout and the colonel heard a shuffling of feet in
the gloom, the feet catching step as the line moved
around the kettle like a file of soldiers,

Uncle Gus began to sing in a creepy, husky mono-
tone:

“W’en Paul en Silas was bound in jail,
Do thyse’f a-no ha’m!

Nobody would go deir bail,
Do thyse’f a-no ha’m!

We’s all heah, we’s all heah,
Do thyse’f a-no ha’m!

We’s all heah, we’s all heah,
Do thyse’f a-no ha’m!”

He wound up with a croaking:

“Debble take cat, cat ketch t’ "vel, en rooster crow, crow,
crow !”

But the rooster didn’t crow. The line of marchers had
passed around the kettle and was back in its original
position.

“Did yo’ all done tech de teirtle fe inquired Uncle’ Gus,
in a perplexed tone.

There was a vociferous affirmative.

Some} pin’ queer “bout dat!” muttered Uncle Gus:

‘Aeon der roosder has lost his voice, huh?”.jeered
the baron.

‘We will done try dat ergin,”’ said Uncle nus and
once more the line made the round of the kettle, and
the negro’s voice was lifted ina crooning chant: .

And still the rooster did not crow. 8

“That’s enough for me!’ declared the disputed hol
onel, jumping to his feet. “Take down those blankets
and let’s have a little light; and open the doors so we
ean have a little air. It’s the first time, Cody, I ever lent
myself to such foolishness, and I can assure you it will
be the last.”

The blankets were torn from the windows and- the
door pulled open. Uncle Gus, his hat tipped over one
eye, was staring at the kettle. The sooty bottom. of
the kettle showed where many hands had touched-it.

‘Uncle Gus,” grinned the baron, “vy ditnt-yau Say
someding to dot “roosder pefore he vas. put under der
keddle?. Meppy he ditn’t ondershtand vat he vas to do.”

“That's right,” agreed Jim. “Ye orter hev given the
rooster a tip, Unele ‘Gus. Yer kettle trick ain't .any
good.”

“Did you all tech de kittle?’” demanded Uncle - Gus.

“Shore we did!’ came the answer.

“Den hol’ up yo’ lef’ hands!”

The left hands went up. Every one of the hands bore
the smudge from the bottom of the kettle—every hand
except Taranch McBride’s.

“Dar’s de vief!” cried Uncle Gus, pointing to McBride.
“He didn’t tech de kittle! He was afeared!” ©

An oath leaped from McBride’s lips. The next mo-
ment he tried to draw the weapon at his belt and to
bolt through the door.

But he succeeded in neither manceuvre. The baron
and Jim leaped at him, caught him-by the arms. and
shoulders, and flung him down on the office floor.

“Bravo, Uncle Gus!” cried the scout.

 

 
 

 

8 . ae THE BUFFALO

CHAPTER. V:
THE BAFFLED THIEF.

‘Colonel Osborne’s opinion of Uncle Gus had under-
gone a swift and decided change. There was method in
the old darky’s foolishness. The fact that MeBride had
not dared to touch the bottom of the kettle formed a tacit
proof of his guilt. If any further proof were needed,
it was given by the man’s attempt to escape.

“Yah, yah, yah!” cried Uncle Gus jubilantly. Adi
reckon Ah done fooled dat fellah! Whut yo Vall think
ob Uncle Gus ’bout now, huh?”

The negro’s success rankled.in the baron’s breast.
~ If Uncle Gus was arrogant before, he would be doubly
so now that his “kettle trick” had made a hit.

“You're a clever darky,” said Colonel Osborne. “Lift
that man up,” he added to the baron and Jim, “and put
him in a chair so we can talk with him.”

All thought of resistance had passed from McBride’s
mind. His eagerness, now, was to make some sort of
terms with his captors. He had tried to win the pile of
gold the Apaches had shown him. That would have to
be. given up, but another source of profit might be de-
veloped.

The tricky brain of Taranch was dealing subtly with
his predicament.

_ “What's your name?” asked the scout, stepping in front
of the prisoner.

“Taranch McBride,’ answered the arab, turning an
apprehensive look at the tevolver Jim was flourishing in
front of his face: “Don't git keerless with that there
gun,” he leered. “It mout go off, an’ if it did I know
a lot the scout never’d learn. V’m wuth somethin’ alive,
but I wouldn't be wuth a plugged nickel with a bullet
through me.’ "

‘Did you take that skull of Narbona from my room?’
went on the scout.

“T reckon ye jest found that out, didn’t ye?” asked
Taranch. “Somebody gi’me a chew er terbacker.”

“You'll get something besides a chew of tobacco,”
snapped the colonel, “if you don’t show a more realizing
sense of your situation. You're a thoroughpaced rascal,
sir, and we'll deal with you accordingly if you don'ts
meet this talk in a different spirit.”

“T reckon ye won’t be too harsh,” said Taranch, with
an impudent leer. “I’m too vallyble to ye. I got a throw-
down, all right, but I ain’t played out clean - ter the end
o’ my string.”

The colonel glared, but sank back in his chair and
kept his peace.

“Why did you take that totem?” proceeded the scout,

“Kase I was hired to.”

“Who hired you?”

“A red man by the name o’ Time-o-day. The Injun
said he’d hev my skelp if I didn’t git the totem. If 1
did git it, I was ter hev a pile o’ yaller boys.”

“Where and when did you see the Indian?”

“T seen him yisterday ; but jest where it was, I ain't
a-tellin’ ye yet.”

“Were there any other Apaches with Time-o’-day
when you talked with him?”

«There was—a ou snag of ’em. I run right inter the
hull blame’ gang.’

“How did you hepek to find them?”

Taranch drew a long breath, and winced as though

See ee a Pe ee eT ET ee Se ESE ee a ee eR

will force him to tell you all he knows.

BL STORES,

the remembrance was painful. He told how he had been
coming through a cafion—he did not name the canon—
and how he had struck a trail of gold-pieces, following
the treasure trail to the place where the Indians had
captured him.

“Sounds fishy,” muttered the colonel.

“Tt’s the truth, kunnel, no matter how it ou
tested Taranch.

“Where did the Apaches get the gold?’ rH

& pass the ante. ° They had the “stuff, howstimever,
an they said they'd spare my life an’ gi’me the hull of it
if I’d come here an’ git the totem.’

“Why. did they want you to do such a piece of work?

“They retkoned I was a good hand at it, I s’pose,” and
Taranch told, with great ousto, how he had stolen the:
moccasins. “That's “what “made ‘em think I was some
on the lift,” he added complacently.

“You came on here yesterday : ?” asked the scout.

“Visterday, last night an’ this forenoon. Not havin’
no hoss ter ride I had ter travel slow.”

“How did you steal the totem?”

“When I left this here office, arter talkin’ with. the
clerk, I went outside, got through a winder, an’ s’arched
the scout’s room. I[ wasn’t a oreat while findin’ what I
was. lookin’ fer. Then I got through ther winder ag’in.

“Taking the totem with you?’

“Shore,” said Taranch, with an evil grin.

“Where did you hide it?”

“In a safe place, Buffler Bill, a mighty safe place. Ye
couldn’t find it if ye was ter hunt fer a month o’ Sun-
days. 1 ain't as big a fool as. 1 look.”

“You couldn’t be, ” put in the colonel tartly.

“Why,” inquired the scout, “did you hide the totem
and come back into the hotel? You had a chance to get
away with the stolen property, and you must have known

| pros

Td find out the skull had been stolen.”

“T was hungry,” said Taranch, “an’ I thought I could

‘eat an’ pull my freight afore ye diskivered the totem was

gone. That,” he added gloomily, “is where I was lame.” :

“Are you going to tell us where you hid the skull?’
rapped out the colonel.

“Fer a consideration,
coolly.

Colonel Osborne began to sputter. The scout, having
more patience, continued his talk with the prisoner.

“What is the consideration?” he asked.

“Fust off, ye got ter let me go.”

“Welle «

“Then ye got ter give me a hoss.,”

“Anything else t)

“Waal, erbout five hundred in yaller boys’ll do.”

The colonel jumped to his feet in a rage.

“Tl see the insolent scoundrel hanged fitst he cried,
“If he has hidden the totem, as. he says, Buffalo Bill, -
then we can rest assured it won’t get into the hands of
Time-o’-day. That’s the main thing, anyhow. Keep the
rascal a prisoner. Perhaps something may develop which
That may help
you in the work of capturing the scoundrelly Apache who
set him up to this piece of crooked work. But for that
possibility, ’'d take McBride to Grant with me. But
you keep him, and use him.”

The colonel went over to the counter and paid for the
meals for himself and the escort; then, walking to the
door, he called his orderly, and sent word for the detach-
ment to mount. '

kunnel,’ returned Taranch

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. 9

What the colonel had said about the totem “had a
pronounced effect on McBride.

“What d’ye want that skull
asked. ‘

“AIL we want,” the scout answered, “is to keep it out
of the hands of Time-o’-day. Since you’ve cached: the
thing so well, there’s no chance of it’s falling into the
hands of the redskin.”

The notes of a bugle sounded out behind the hotel, and
an orderly rode up with the colonel’s horse.

“T wish you luck, Buffalo Bill,’ said Osborne, stepping
to the scout and taking his hand. ‘Put that scoundrel
through,” he added, nodding toward McBride, “and if
you want.any help from the post, just send word.”

“All right, colonel,’ the scout answered.

“Tf you’d put on the screws you might force McBride
to say something.”

“T can do that, too. Trust me to take tare of him.”

The colonel strode out, mounted, and rode off with
his escort. The tramp of, the horses’ hoofs had hardly
died away before old Nomad and Wild Bill came into
the office.

“Waugh!” cried the trapper., “Hyer’s some. doin’s,
Hickok. Buffler is holdin’ the drap on a rag-bag with a
face like a jailbird. What's he done, pard?”’

“By gotry,” said Hickok, “Nick and I just took a ride
into the hills to-day so something would happen. It’s
always the case if we pull out that Pard Cody flags trou-
ble. Tell us what this old rawhide has done.”

Buffalo Bill went into recent events at some length
for his pards’ benefit. The recital tickled the trapper
and the Laramie man, especially that part of it that had
to do with the work of Uncle Gus.

“Thet’s oncet,” grinned Nomad, “that yore black mas-
cot got in a good lick. How’s the baron feelin’ erbout
et?”

“T’ll bet,he’s got a sore head,” laughed Hickok. “Ever
since [ got that old top hat and the ‘long coat for Uncle
Gus, the official mascot has been spr eading himself. The
baron don’t like it muy mucho.”

“He’s a jealous ole wienerwurst,”’
“Whar is he now, Buffler?”

“He was here a while ago,’
ing around.

Y *Dutch pard go make um try find totem,”
Little Cayuse. ‘Gus him go ‘long,

: a find um.”

«T reckon that’s a good cue for nie,’ said the scout,
getting up. “Ill leave Taranch with you two, pards.
You'd better tie him. to his chair.”

“We'll hang onter him, an’ don’t ye fergit et,” scowled
Nomad. “You look at him over the sights o’ yer gun,
Hickok, while I go fer a rope.”

The trapper left the room, and the scout started for
the outside door.

“We're to take up the trail of the reds again, eh, Pard
~ Cody?” called Hickok.
- . “We're to take after Time- 5 -day,” the scout called

ck. halting at the threshold. “Have you got ugha
you want to ; tell me, Taranch?’” he asked.

“When ye git ready ter agree ter what I said, ” an-
swered Taranch doggedly, “I’ il tell ye all I know.”

“We'll let you 80, but. you don’t get any horse and
not a stiver in coin.’

“Then the deal’s off,” growled Taranch.

fer Butler Bits he

erunted the trapper.

answered the scout, look-

explained

    

 

mebby so ‘work charm’

etc ta

tiny ea “tit chas Pass Ralihin oe. ua edi!

“Don’t bother with him, pard,”’ counseled Hickok. “We
can work through this trick without any of his help.”

As the scout stepped through the door to the porch he
heard sounds of excitement up the street, and turned
his alert eyes in that direction.
going on in front of the post office. The baron and
Uncle Gus were mixed up in the excitement, whatever
it was, and a goat appeared to be having something to
do with it.

Jumping down from the porch, the scout started for
the post office. is

wee rentedees

CHAP TDR Vi.

“BILLY BUTTINSKY.”

,

The baron, discovering what he considered an aus-
picious moment, left the hotel office quietly. He whis-
pered to Cayuse that he was going to star himself and
find the totem ; but he had noe ulterior designs.

He was “out out’ because Uncle Gus had played his
clever kettle trick.| It was a fool proceeding anyway,

Something unusual was.

according to the baron, and any one could have done it

—even the baron, if he had only thought of it.

It jarred the Dutchman to see how arrogantly the negro

carried himself. Whenever he spoke to the baron, which
was seldom, it was in a patronizing way that made the
Dutchman’s blood run, hot.

“f vill take der kinks oudt oof him,”
baron;.as he left the hotel. “Oot 1 can’t pring sore
luck py der sgout mit dot goat dan vat dis plack feller
can, den py shinks I don’d was ondo der chob. Dot

muttered the .

Irisher feller say dot Pilly. Buttinsky is a sure. luck-

pringer. I vill ged der goat, und tie him oop py der
hodel.”

Uncle Gus, noting the secrecy with which the baron
had left the hotel, was stirred with vague forebodings.

The old negro knew that the baron was * plotting against

“him, and Unive Gus felt that he couldn’t stand pee of

that. As mascot, the darky’s security was none too great,
anyhow. He had. to play shrewdly with circumstances,
and act in such a way that whatever happened would
be ascribed to his powers of divination.

For instance, he had seen Buffalo Bill coming down the

street at the time he worked his conjuring for the col-

onel’s benefit. Then he conjured, and calmly appropria-
ted the fesult as a tribute to his mysterious gifts.

But if the baron was going to try and backcap him,
then Uncle Gus realized that he would have to be doubly
shrewd. The old darky flattered himself that, by his suc-
cess with the kettle trick, he had proved to the scout, as
to the colonel, that he was invaluable. He: wanted to
hang on to the reputation he had made for himself, and
he didn’t want the baron butting in and spoiling all his
fine work.

Settling his battered silk hat firmly on his kinky white
wool, Uncle Gus effaced himself from the hotel office and
went after the baron.

In front of the general store, which was also he post
office, Uncle Gus saw the baron suddenly disappear. By
the time Uncle Gus reached the front of the store the
baron was just coming around the corner with a billy
goat. The goat was hard to lead, and seemed determined
to go in every direction but the one the baron was fol-
lowing. About every two steps the Dutchman took the

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pavements beatin Seite Wanaabudee sseeamiuvre os eatsemememnee reeereoer eee ete oe

 
 

 

10 THE: BUFFALO
goat would balk; then the bar on od: to turn around and
lay back on the ‘chain.

“Come on, Pilly!” wheedled the baron;
Pilly! You vant someding to eat, yas?
Uncle: Villum und he vill gif you a pig
For vy don’d you come?”

‘The goat came, and he came all at once. The baron,
who was pulling with all his might on the chain, turned
a back somersault. Thereupon the goat ran over him,
and would have run clean across the street had the chain
not become entangled with the baron’s anatomy.
“Moa! howled the baron, struggling to rise. “Hum-
melblitzen, vat’s der madder mit you? Shtop a leedle!
Py shiminy srickeds, you make me so madt as some vet
hens!”

Every time the baron attempted to rise the goat would
make a lunge to get away. As a result, the baron no
more than got to his knees before he was jerked flat
again.

“Ba-a-a!” said the goat.

Var har; hard” laughed Uncle Gus, leaning against
the. front ofthe store and holding his sides.

Between the merriment of Uncle Gus and the actions
of the goat, the baron’s temper was at white-hot heat.

“Laugh mit yourseluf, you plack feller, laugh!” he
whooped. “I bed you someding for nodding T make you
laugh py der odder site oof your face vone oof dose
tays.”

The baron shook his fist at Uncle Gus.
expressing his anger in that fashion,
rolled him over again.

“Ach, der teufel!” sputtered the baron. “Vat a goat
it iss! Oof you vasn’t Some mascots, you feller mit
horns, I vould shood holes droo you. Dot’s der vay I
feel. Now vait, vait schust a leedle vile I ged on my
feets.”

The baron managed to get hold of the chain and un-
wrap it from his neck; then, hanging to it with both
hands, he clambered up.

“Mistah Baron, dat’s a monsus fine goat whut yo’ got,
suh,” remarked Uncle Gus.

“Dot's my pitzness,” \gulped the baron. “Vat’s my
pitzness don’d vas some oof yours. Vas it funny dot I
eed drowed on der ground py der goat? Vas it some
laughing madders mit you? I don’d forged dot, no, you
bed my life. Some t’ings, ven dey habben, make sooch.
teep imbressions dot I don’d forged.”

Uncle Gus was sadly disappointed. He had followed
the baron in the hope of offering him an olive branch;
then the baron got tangled up with the goat, Uncle Gus
had to laugh, and the olive branch was permanently re-
tired.

“Whaftur yo’ foolin’ wif dat goat, Mistah Baron?’
asked Uncle Gus, pulling out his red bandanna handker-
chief, and mopping the sweat from his black brow.

“I know vat I know, und I don’d ask you to say
someding at all,” snorted the baron.

The.goat had got his eye on the red handkerchief
Uncle Gus was using. The baron was not too wrathful
to see this.

_ “Mistah /Baron, sah,” proceeded Uncle Gus, “Ah’s
sorry dat Ah enjoyed mahse’f at de expense ob yo’ en de
goat, en Ah——

“Go off mit yourseluf,’ interrupted the baron hotly.
“TI don’d vant someding more to do mit you.’

“nice, leedle
Come mit
pan oof oats.

While he was
Billy Buttinsky

72

“no man.

 

Pi ASOT ORT RS,
‘Jess a minit, sah, jess a minit,” said Unele Gus.
“Whar yo’ done git dat ’ar goat, Mistah Baron ?”

“T don’t shpeak mit you,” growled. the baron oy

He stooped to pick up his cap.

“Kain’t us-all be frien’s?” pleaded the darky.
ain't er friend ob mine lak you was.

“Vell, I don’d like der vay vat you haf mit you. Dot’ S
vat’s der madder mit me. You ged too high und mighdty
mit yourseluf. Efer since Vild “Pill gif you dot siluk hat |
und dot coat, Py. shinks, you valk aroundt in sooch a vay
as gifs me pain.”

“Mistah Baron,’ said Uncle Gus with great bani,
“Ah’s done gwineter change de way whut Ah walk, yas-
suh. Ah’ll walk in er way dat ain’t “fensive tuh yo’,
sah.” |

“Und den, some more,” continued the baron, “you peen
some frauds. You don’d know any more aboudt luck as
dot mu-el, Toofér, vat I got, or as dot goat.”

Here the gushing fountain of the negro’s good-will
began to freeze.

“Wha’s Cat he rapped out,.
sayin’?

“T say, ee the baron, wa deliberate Soke
“dot you peen some humpugs. You don’d know nodding

“Yo”

“wha’s dat yo’ all’s er.

aboudt luck. You make some laughs ad yourseluf, und

dot’s all.”

“By golly,” fretted Uncle Gus, “Ah doan’ take dat fom
Ah won't let any Dutch trash frow sich low-
down rema’ks up to me, no, sah. Yo’ got tuh ’ scuse
yosef, er Ah’s gwineter git er razzah en cyanve yo’ tuh
pieces.”

“You don’d vas going to do anyding mit anypody,”
jeered the baron. “You don’d got sand enough for nod-
ding. You vas a plack fake, und dot’s all aboudt id.”

Uncle Gus rolled up the whites of his eyes. There was
plenty he wanted to say, but he was so mad he couldn't
say it. ce

He whirled around to start for the hotel. At the mo-
ment he whirled, a Chinaman was just starting out of
the post office.

Through a combination of circumstances Tease hap-
pened, and it happened quickly.

The first and most important circumstance was this:
The red bandanna handkerchief, recently used by Uncle
Gus, had been partly shoved into the tail-pockets of the
long coat—but only partly. Caught by one corner, the
rest of the handkerchief hung in plain sight of the goat.

Now the Irishman of whom the baron had bought the?
goat had declared that anything red would make the
goat a killer from Killerville.

As soon as the goat had caught sight of that ted
handkerchief for the second time, “his venomous Clepos: :
tion mounted swiftly.

He gave a jump. The baron, of course, had hold of
the chain. Without much trouble the baron could have
stopped the goat—but the baron did not take the trouble.
This was the second important circumstance.

When the goat hit Uncle Gus there was a thump which
could be heard as far as the hotel one way, and clear to
One-eye Perkins’ chance establishment the other,

Uncle Gus must have thought an earthquake had hap-
pened along and was doing business with him. He
yelled in a way that would have roused the dead.

The Chinaman happened to be in front of Uncle Gus
at the moment, and the old negro drove Better an
like a limited express train.

 

auth metatetbactioainadiannt

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Tet BUPPALO

The Chinaman’s yell closely followed that of Uncle
Gus.

There was a Vine: barrel at the corner of the build-
ing. What it was there for was a mystery. It rained
about once in six months in Solomonsville, and a rain
barrel was of about as much use to that store as a palm

- garden would have been.

\

 

: i
RID OO Heo
se im a fen nree pm

The Chinaman was thrown full tilt against the barrel.
He threw up his hands and caught at the air, but the air
did not help him to keep his feet.

Between the goat, and Uncle Gus, and the Chinaman
there were lively times.. Buffalo Bill, hurrying to the
scene, stooped to pick up a letter that had dropped from
the Chinaman’s sleeve.

“Pull off that goat, baron!” shouted Buffalo Bill.

“Pull off de Chinee, Marse Cody!” begged Uncle Gus.

The yellow man, suddenly enraged, had set ‘upon the
old negro tooth and nail.

While the baron took hold of the goat and drew the
animal back, the scout grabbed the Chinaman’s flying
queue, and jerked: him away from Uncle Gus.

Then, for a few minutes, there was comparative peace.

CHAPTER VII.
THE STOLEN LETTER.

The Chinaman jabbered, Uncle Gus became hysterical,
and the baron leaned against the front of the store and
laughed till he cried. The goat, with the chain dragging,
whisked around the corner on the way back to the Trish-
man.

“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded the scout.

Everybody tried to explain at once.

“One at a time,” said the scout.

“Blackeé man hittee China boy,” cried the Celestial,
“hittee allee same choo-choo tlain, knockee into lain-
blallel, makee China boy heap mad.”

“Marse Cody,” explained Uncle Gus, solicitously open-
ing out his flattened hat, “dat baron fellah done sic de
goat on me, yassuh. De goat hit me en de sthall ob de
back, en knock me into de Chinee. Ah never did lak
goats; en de Dutch is jess as bad.”

“What have you to say, baron?” inquired the scout.

“Vell,” returned the baron, “dot goat vas a cyclone, I
bed you. He chump so hardt mit der shain dot I couldn’t
hold him, und he hit der plack feller. Dot’s all. Nopody
peen to plame. Id vas some accidents, yah, so.”

“Accidents” sniffed Uncle Gus, shaking his fist. “Ah
knows er accident when Ah sees hit, en Ah ‘low hit
wasn’t. Yo’ played er low-down measley trick on Uncle
Gus, dat’s whut yo’ done, en all Ah ax is dat yo’ keep
away f’om me.”

Badly battered though he was, Uncle Gus turned away
in great dignity and started for the hotel. The baron
sank down on the step leading into the store and laughed
till he choked.

“He laughed by me ven I hat some drouples mit der
goat,” he explained, “und I got der righdt to laugh py
him.”

The Chinaman, dropping his eyes to the letter in the
scout’s hand, suddenly seemed to remember something.
Whirling to an about face, he started off.

“Here!” yelled the scout, “you dropped this.”

ne ac

 

BILI STORIES: IT

“No wanchee!” the Chinaman called back over his
shoulder.

The scout turned the letter over and looked at tHe ad-
dress. Then he started.

The letter postmarked at Phenix, was addressed to
“Buffalo Bill, Solomonsville, A. T.”

How had the Chinaman come to have that letter? The
scout remembered that it had been flipped out of the
Celestial’s flowing sleeve when he fell back against the
water barrel.

Here was a mystery that called for explanation. The
scout started after the Chinaman, and the Chinaman
started to run. ;

If proof were needed that the Chinaman had been doing
something crooked, his attempt to escape would have
furnished. i

Buffalo Bill soon overhauled the Celestial. Grabbing
him by the slack of his kimono the scout threw him
against a hitching pole.

“Not so fast, John!” cried the scout threateningly.
‘There's something here I want you to explain.”

“Melican man no hurtee China boy!” whimpered the
yellow man. “Buff’ Bill leavee China boy ’lone.”

“Where did you get this. letter ?”

“Him comee flom post office. San Toy ketchee when
big high post office man no watchee.”

“Ah! So you went into the office and stole this letter,
ene”

“My takee, no stealee.”

San Toy offered a distinction without much of a dif-
ference.

“How did you know the letter was for me?” went on
the scout.

“My makee lead English. Ketchee lead allee same mis-
sion San Flisco.”

“You learned to read English at a mission in San
Francisco, eh?”

“All same. You no sendee China boy top-side?”

“You’ve got to tell me more about this before I decide
what ’m going to do with you,” the scout answered.

San Toy wrung his yellow hands and howled.

“Him one piecee bad pidgin! My no wanchee ketchee
letter! Melican man say, Can do, givee one piecee gold,
my makee tly. Whoosh! My heap solly, Buff’ Bill.”

“A Melican man hired you to do the job, hey?”

“Yessee. Melican man heap bad Melican man.”

“How much did he give you to go and steal this let-
tere”

San Toy fished around in his pocket and dug up a
gold piece.

“He gave you that and told you to go to the post
office and steal a letter that was coming to Buffalo Bill?”
continued the scout.

“Allee same,

“How did you do it?’

“Big high boy no watchee, my ketchee.”

The scout was not slow in guessing who it was that
had subsidized the Chinaman.

“Come with me, San Toy,” said he, grabbing the Chi-
naman’s arm.

“You makee tlouble fo’ China boy ?”
dragging back.

“T’ll not make you any trouble if you come with me
and tell the trish.’

Thus reassured, San Toy went with the scout to the
hotel. Wild Bill and old Nomad were still in the office

whined San Toy,

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12 ‘THE: BUFFALO

with Taranch. They had the arab bound to a chair
and were sitting close to him on a bench.

“Hyar’s Buffer with er chink!’ exclaimed the trapper.
“Whyever aire ye towin’ ther yaller man erlong fer,
pard?”

“Look at Taranch,” returned the scout.

McBride, the moment he set eyes on San Toy, turned
a sickly white.

“Looks like Taranch recognized the Celestial,” com-
mented Hickok.

The scout told where and how he had met San Toy,
and adduced the letter in evidence.

“Is that the man’ who hired you, San Toy?” Buffalo
Bill asked, pointing to Taranch.

“Vessee,” quavered San -Toy.

“Where did you get the gold piece, Taranch?” inquired
the scout.

“There was jest one piece o’ that gold that them
*Pachies didn’t find,’ answered Taranch.

“Tf you’re so good at the ‘lifting’ game, why didn’t you
go to the post office and steal the letter yourself?”

“T didn’t want ter git ketched there when I had some-
thin’ ter do hyer.”

“How did you know a letter was due for me at the
Sah office ?”

“T didn’t know; jest opined.”

“Why did you want it?”

“Tt was on’y a fool notion 0’ mine.”

The scout turned to San Toy.

“Dig out,” said he curtly. ‘If I want you to give
evidence against the Melican man, San Toy, I’ll let you
know.”

The Chinaman did not stand upon. the order of his
going. Without a word he whirled and bolted through
the door. The: scout pulled ip a chair: in: front’ of
Taranch and sat down.

“You're in a peck of trouble now, McBride,” said he.
“You've robbed the post office, and that means some-
thing.”

“T didn’t!” grunted Taranch, “it was the chink.”

“You were an accessory. The law will give you as long
a sentence as it will give San Toy. We’ ve a clear case
against you. All I’ve got to do is to make a complaint.”

Taranch, at the prospect of such punishment, lost his
nerve completely. ¢

“‘Kain’t I do somethin’, he begged, “ter git off? Ye’ve
got yer letter, an’ what good will it do ye ter send me
over the road? I ain’t nothin’ but a pore prospector,
Sh et? $

“Stop yer blubberin’,” struck in old Nomad disgust-
edly, “Aint ye got any sand at‘all?’’

“Why did you have the Chinaman steal this letter?’
went on Buffalo Bill.

“Kase I was afeared it had somethin’

3

in it erbout

me,”
“What?”
“Well, I helped a feller salt a minin’ claim, an’ he

unloaded it onter a nephew o’ the governor’s. Hank
Baggs, the feller that sold the claim, said as how you
an’ yore pards was in Solomonsville, an’ that he had got
word from Phenix the governor was writin’ you ter
ketch Hank an’ me. I was ter come on from Cedar
Springs an’ do what I could ter git holt o’ the letter.
Accordin’ ter what Hank heard from Phenix, the letter
was due hyer this mornin’.”’

“Hank’s news seems to have been pretty accurate,”

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“ye where Bagg

Ra hs SLD a i aN Tt FOS aS Hs Se Se
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BILL. STORIES.

commented the scout dryly. “Originally, then, you started
for Solomonsville to intercept this letter ?”’

“That’s the size o’ it.”

“And on your way you struck that trail of gold and
landed among the Apaches?”

"Kerect,'(

“And Time-o’-day got you to change your plans so
that you were to get the totem and hire some one else
to get the letter?”

“That’s how.”

Buffalo Bill opened the letter and read it through.

There was a frown on his face, a frown that, caused
Taranch to wriggle apprehensively in his bonds.

“Um!” muttered the scout. “It’s a good thing we
landed on you as we did, Taranch.”

“It wasn’t me had much ter do with that job o’ salt,”
declared Taranch. “Hank Baggs is the feller. Vil tell
os is if yell le’me 20.)

“Will you tell me where the totem is? Pn

“T will, purvidin’ ye'll le’me go an’ not send me ter
Phenix?

“All right,” agreed the scout: ‘Where’s the totem?’

“Out back o’ the hotel there’s a woodpile,’ said
Taranch. “At one side o’ the pile there’s a stick o’ yaller
palo-verde. Pick up that there stick an’. dig down.”

“Go on out, Hickok,” said the scout, turning to the
Laramie man, “and see if you can find the totem in the
woodpile.”

Wild Bill wasn’t gone more than three minutes. When
he came back he had the bag containing the totem.

The scout thereupon turned to Taranch, and got from
him the location of the renegade Apaches. Having
pumped the prisoner dry, the man was turned loose with
a warning.

“What's the governor's letter got ter say erbout ther
pizen rawhide?” asked old Nomad.

“Not a thing,” laughed the scout. ‘‘Taranch and his
friend Baggs were shy a few chips. The letter merely
congratulates us on the capture of Sangamon Charlie.”

“Then,” put in Wild Bill, “the governor don’t know

about this new twist in the situation, and the trouble -

‘Time-o’-day is trying to make.”

“Apparently not, Pard Hickok. By the time the gov-
ernor hears of it I hope he'll have no cause for worry,
and that Time-o’-day will be at Fort Grant along with
Boston Pete and Sangamon’ Charlie.’

*Thet’s our work, hey, Buffler?’”’ asked Nomad.

“itas, Nick,” answered the king of scouts, “and we've
got to be getting at it.”

CHAPTER VIII.
TARANCH MAKES A VOW,

Let it not be supposed for a moment that Taranch Mc-
Bride, was at all chastened in spirit by his recent disas-
trous experience with the king of scouts. Far from it.
He had secured his freedom, ‘and scarcely was he clear
of the hotel before his venomous disposition began to
assert itself.

He was wild with rage. As he looked at it, Buffalo
Bill had beaten him out of that heap of gold which had
been flashed in his eyes by Time-o’-day.

Turning in between two adobe buildings that fronted
on the main street of the camp, a halted -long

eae ed EO gel Sh OG A ahi ak is

 

 

 
ee ee

 

 

swung against the wall.

 

 

THR BUPRALO.

enough to shake his fist in the direction of the hotel,
and to breathe through his set teeth:

“TIL be even with ye, Bulter Bill! TU saw off squar’
with ye fer what ye done ter me! By the seven imps 0’
Tophet, I'll make ye smart fer this day’s work!’

Then, whirling around, Taranch ran on, turned.to the
right at the rear of the buildings, crossed an open space,
and reached a mud shanty in the outskirts of town.

At the side of the shanty was a line full of clothes
hung out to dry; within was a gloomy Celestial, manipu-
lating a flatiron.

Taranch rushed in on the Chinaman and, before the
man could make a move to defend himself, had gripped
him by his yellow throat.

“Give me away, did ye?” he snarled, shaking the China-
man as a terrier shakes a rat. “Why shouldn’t I put a
knife between yer ribs, ye meachin’ valler ‘face?’

The Chinaman struggled. Dropping the flatiron, he
lifted his hands above his head to a box cupboard that
With his breath almost gone,
and his face purple, he managed to pull a revolver out
of the cupboard.

But he could not use the gun. Before he could do

anything with it, Taranch released his throat and caught

the weapon out of his hands.

“That's where ye was lame, San Toy!’ growled
Taranch. “A gun’s the thing I was wantin’. Ye got me
inter this scrape, an’ now. ye’re goin’ ter help me out.
Got any money?”

“No gottee!” gurgled San Toy, getting back his
Breathe.)

“Waal, you gettee; chop-chop, er Ill bore ye.”

Driven by the point of the gun, San Toy went to an
old chest and fished out a bag. The bag contained
about ten silver dollars. ;

“D’ye know what I’m goin’ ter do?’ rasped Taranch,
stuffing the bag in a pocket. “I’m goin’ out inter the
hills, an’ Vm goin’ ter tell Time-o’-day, the ’Pachie,
thet Buffler Bill’s comin’ fer him. I’m goin’ ter help
Time-o’-day lay er trap, by thunder. Between him and
me, an’ all them reds, we'll nail this hyer king 0’ scouts.
It'll be a good thing fer the two o’ us if I do. Kin ye
savvy that, you slant-eyed rat-eater? Ye stole from the
mails, an’ ye’re li’ble ter be sent ter the big skookum
house fer doin’ it. Dorrt ye dare say anythin’ erbout
what I’ve done ter ye, or ye'll git yerself inter trouble.
Understand?”

San Toy, his slant eyes glittering, leaned against the
wall, caressing the bruises at his throat, and said nothing.

“Where kin I git a hoss?’’ demanded Taranch.

“No sabe,” grunted San Toy.

Taranch studied the Chinaman for half a minute, then
spun around on his heel and walked to the door.

“Vll git a hoss some’rs,’ he declared, ‘an’ if ye say

-anythin’ erbout what’s happened hyer, Ill find ye an’

take yer pigtail skelp. Mind that!”
With that, the desert arab flung out of the laundry
and made for the nearest saloon.

Here he drank liberally of the most demoralizing
liquor; then, ripe and ready for any evil deed, he stole
into the outskirts of the camp.

He found a corral in which were two or three cayuses.
Hanging over one of the corral posts was a riata.

Taranch, after a cautious look around, got into the
corral, After half a dozen ineffectual attempts he suc-
ceeded in roping one of the mustangs. ‘Thereupon he

 

would {all on Taranch.

BILL STORIES. 3

twisted the riata about the horse’s lower jaw, making a
hackamore, led the animal out of the corral, mounted
and galloped off.

His course lay in the direction of Lost Burro ano,
and he rode at speed.

All sorts of danger lay behind him. When it was dis-
covered that the horse had been stolen, the owner would
hunt for the thief,’and it was quite likely that suspicion
The arab knew this.

Aliso, if San Toy told what he knew, which was quite
possible, the sheriff might also get on Taranch’s trail.

Apart from these incentives to “speed in leaving Solo-
monsville, there was the spur of revenge upon the king of
scouts. lt was McBride’s purpose to reach Time-o’-day
and the Apaches and plan with the renegades to waylay
Buffalo Bill and pards.

Very soon, Taranch reasoned, the scout and his friends
would start. tor. Lost. Burro Canon; 1f\ Taranch
reached Time-o’-day in good season, plans could be made
and the scout ambushed.

In his rage, Taranch gave no thought to possible dan-
ger in thus returning to the Apaches without the totem.
He had an eye single to his designs upon Buffalo Bill.

For hour after hour the arab, riding bareback and
with hackamore for a bridle, forced the wiry cayuse
toward the hills.

The syn sank and evening dusk came on, but still the
cayuse Mung back the sand with his tireless hoofs.

Taranch’s first stop was at Adobe Wells, no more than
a inile from the gully in Lost Burro Cafion.

Adobe Wells was an oasis in the desert—the only spot
of wet in several long miles of dry country.

Taranch did not arouse anybody in the mud house, but
secretly rode to a pool of water behind the house, gave
the cayuse a drink, took a drink himself, and then pushed
relentlessly on.

Half an hour later he was in the gully to which the
golden trail had carried him two days before.

Night had fallen, and the gloom of the cafion and the
gully was thick. Out of the yawning blackness three
spectre-like shadows leaped up. One grabbed the head of
the panting cayuse, and the two others jumped on either
side of Taranch.

“You got um totem?’ queried a husky, eager voice.

“That you, Time-o’-day?” demanded Taranch,

“Ail You got um totem?”

“No, got um!”

With a yell of rage, the Apaches seized Taranch, and
dragged him from the horse.

“Confound ye fer a lot o’ pesky stranglers!” shouted
the struggling Taranch. “Wait a minit! i got somethin’
ter, tell ye.”

The head of a poisoned spear was already tickling the
ribs of the arab:

“Why you no git um totem?” demanded the exas-
perated voice of Time-o’-day.

“T come hyer ter tell ye how ye could git it,” answered
Taranch. “D’ye reckon I’d ’a’ come back hyer if I hadn’t
a plan ye could work an’ git the skull o’ Narbona ?”’

There was a pause in the hostilities.

“How. we git um?” queried the leader of the Apaches,
at last.

“Pa-e-has-ka got um.”

“Ugh! Me sabe. Pa-e-has-ka got um, you no got
in.

‘“Pa-e-has-ka is goin’ ter trail this way with the totem.

 

eases

 
 

7 : THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

He'll be hyer afore next sun. ~Sabe? We kin lay fer him
an’-git the totem, I[’ll help. That’s what I come back
hyer. fer—ter~tell ye, an’ help ye git what ye want.”

“How we git um?” demanded Time-o’-day térsely.

“At the mouth o’ Lost Burro Cafion thar’s a fine place
fer a surround. You divide yer warriors, Time-o’ “day,
an’ put one half of °em among the rocks on one side, an’
tother half on the other. Pa-e-has-ka won't be sus-
pectin’ nothin’. He’ll ride inter the mouth o’ the cafion,
then you an’ yer reds kin open up on his pards. Arter
the scrimmage is done, you kin go down inter the cafion
an’ pick up yer totem. Ain’t thet plain enough? An’
easy enough?”

It seemed evident that Time-o’-day understood. this
fully. He turned it over in his mind, however, to make
sure that none of the details escaped him.

“Mebby so we fix um Pa-e-has-ka,” he remarked, at
last. “Heap sure he bring um totem?”

“Heap sure!”

As a matter of fact, Taranch was not at all sure of

this; but he had to pretend to be in order to get Time-

o’-day to help out his scheme of revenge.

‘““Mebbyso we ketch um totem,”
“What you do, huh?” |

‘i told ye Vd help.”
“What you want, me ketch um totem?” |

“T want what ye promised—that there pile 0’ oro
dinero. Am I ter hev it?”

“Ai, all same me ketch um totem. Me no ketch um

totem me take um skelp of man who steal um Injun moc-

casins. You sabe that?”

“Ye’re welcome ter my skelp if ye don’t nail thet there
skull of Narbona. Will ye lay the ambush ?”

“Ai. Git on cayuse an’ come.’

Taranch was released. With the three Apaches behind
him, he rode through the gully and into the natural cor-
ral at the farther end of it.

Half an hour later a file of ominous horsemen rode
silently through the gully and into the cafion. One by
one they came, armed with their muzzle-loading guns,
their poisoned lances and their sharp knives. Their
destination was the mouth of Lost Burro Cafion.

CHAPTER IX:
SAN TOY MAKES A MOVE.

San Toy had known Taranch McBride for some time,
but that had been in Globe. San Toy had run a laundry
in Globe, and Taranch had helped him raid a fan-tan
game, take vengeance on some swindling Celestials, and
get back a certain amount of money which San Toy had
lost. To be sure, Taranch had taken half the recovered
money for his trouble, but the affair had made the two
friends,

So, when Taranch blew into Solomonsville with de-
signs on the totem and on the post office, he selected San
Toy, quite naturally, for part of the work.: San Toy
had hesitated, but the gold piece had finally won him.

But the rough villainy of Taranch in visiting the laun-
dry and stealing the revolver and the bag of dollars, had
turned all San Toy’ s friendship into the bitterest hate,

went on Time-o’ ae

“Car out wif yo’se’f; Ah doan’ want no truck wif yo

Association with Taranch had bred nothing but trou-
ble for San Toy. The raid on the fan-tan establishment
in Globe had brought the Chinaman into such unpleasant

prominence with the officers of the law that he had been

compelled to give up a good business and move to Solo-
monsville ; now this last deal at the post office had carried
the Celestial into troubles that had made him shake.

What should San Toy do?

In a wild burst of confidence, Taranch had told some-
thing ofthis plans. He was going to get a horse and ride
south among the Indians, getting them to help him lay
a trap for the big high Melican scout.

The big high Melican scout had treated San Toy with
consideration. For him the Chinaman had nothing but
gratitude. Why not go to Buff’ Bill and tell him about
the evil intentions of Taranch McBride?

The Celestial’s brain moved but slowly. Two or three
hours were necessary for the details of the situation to
take shape in his mind, and for him to decide what he
should do. Then} putting away his flatirons, San Toy
took his slouch hat down from a peg in the wall, locked

_ the door of the house, and started for the hotel.

It was getting toward sundown when the Chinaman

drew near the hotel porch. There was only one person.

in front of the hotel, and this person was black and acted
in a queer manner. San Toy, a little awed, leaned
against the porch-post and watched the black man.

The black Melican person wore a battered high hat
and a long coat. He was bent over, and his hands were
describing circles in front of him. It was queer work,
and looked something like the work of a priest San Toy
had once seen imploring the gods in a far-away temple
of Tsan Ii.

“Where Buff’ Bill?” asked San Toy suddenly.

The black man paid no attention, but kept on with his
finger and arm movements and his mumbling.

“Where Buff’ Bill?” repeated San Toy louder.

The black man looked up.

“Whaffur yo’ come pesterin’ ’round while I wo’k de
prognosticums?” demanded the darky.

“My wanchee find Buff’ Bill,” said the Chinaman.

“Marse Buffalo Bill done gone away,” answered Uncle
Gus; then, recognizing San Toy as the fellow he had
bumped into in front of the post office, he grew’wrathful.

“My wanchee find Buff Bill,” persisted San Toy, com-
ing up on the porch. “My wanchee see him ’bout one
piece pidgin. Where he go, huh?”

“Whut’s dat tuh you, chink?’ demanded Uncle Gus.
““Marse Cody done hike fo’ de hills, but dat doan’ mean
nuffin’ tuh yo’. Ah’s got all Ah kin do fightin’ fo’ Marse
Cody’s luck. Hit’s er ha’d fight, en I got tuh be left tuh
mahse'f. Go ‘way from yar.” -

“Buff? Bill allee same in plenty tlouble,’’ went on San
Toy, refusing to leave.

ee

 

 
pards when dar’s trouble a-brewin’.

 

Pau ate é te, MTL
bile nM fe nh
ve wa is oe

 

Sra pean at ae eS de RR

THE BUFFALO BILL

“Dean’ Ah know dat?” demanded Unele Gus; “‘en
doan’ Ah know dat Ah’m de one dat has tuh fight all de

‘trouble? Ah’m on de job, chink; en Ah stays-on de job

twell Marse Cody comes er ridin’ back tuh town.”

“Where Buff’ Bill’s pards?” asked San Toy, his heart
sinking with the thought that perhaps he had come too
late. -

“Dey done gone wif Marse Cody,” replied Uncle Gus.
“Dat’s whut pa’ds is fo’, chink. Dey goes wif deir odder
Ah stays behin’ tuh
fight de ha’d luck en make dem win out. Is yo’ saters-
fied? Ef yo’ is, clean out en leave me tuh my prognos-
ticums.”

'“Mebbyso you makee listen to San Toy’s chin,”
sued the Celestial; “mebbyso my makee say what you
likee know.” .
~ Uncle Gus leaned back wearily.

- “Yo’s sartinly de mos’ pestiferous chink whut Ah
ever seed!” he muttered. “Go on wif yo’ chin, den scat-
ter. When Ah’s busy Ah doan’ lak tuh be boddered,”.

“You savvy Taranch McBlide?’ asked San Toy. ~

“Wow!” muttered Uncle Gus. “Ah reckon Ah does
savvy dat no-’count hoodlum.”

“Buft’ Bill let Taranch go, huh?”

“That's whut he done. Ah wouldn’t hab advised sich
er move, but da’s whut Marse Cody done. He let dat
onnery low-down white git clean away f’om him, yas-
suh.”’

“Him lide to hills,” pursued San Toy, “say him findee
‘Pachie Injun, lay. tlap fo’ Buff’ Bill, makee ae Bill
an’ fliends go topside.”

- Uncle. Gus opened his eyes wide at that, and trate
ened rigidly in his chair.

“Whaffur yo’ say topside?”
all mean by topside?”

San Toy fluttered a yellow hand toward the sky.

“Makee die,” he explained, “‘makee kill. McBlide heap
mad at Buff’ Bill. Him lay tlap allee same Injun,
Sendee Buff’ Bill topside. You savvy.”

Uncle Gus felt that here was something that ought
to work on his nerves. But he must understand it first.
He must get at every angle of the situation.

Pushing up the battered old hat, he dug Bi fingers into

he demanded. “Whut yo’

_ his white wool.

“Yo’ say dat ’ar pestiferous Taranch done got away
into de hills ahaid ob Marse Cody en his pa’ds,; en’ dat
Taranch is goin’ tuh put up a job tuh wipe Marse Cody
out. How yo’ knows dat, huh?”

- “MeBlide tellee San Toy.”

“He tole yuh? Taranch told yuh? Whaffur he done
tole yo’ dat?. You in de job wif him?’

“My no likee McBlide,” protested San Toy eagerly.
“Him come to launly, lob San Toy; takee money, takee
gun, makee lun likee stleak. Him say he gettee hoss, lide
fo’ hills, findee Injun, makee tlap fo’ Buff’ Bill.”

j

NS et ert aka
Reel ek pe a

Opa eas

pur-

sparen ans stipend a aac at a Sa ahah Sahn as et rma SA AS ale are el nea

eee I eet em eae re OPED Pa pe te re ree Oe a ead 7
NES aint cabagene adel pals nat wo 5 ie ee starts shes agate sate EI

STORIES. 1s

“Whaftur yo’ come en tell hit tuh me?”

“My no likee McBlide,” repeated the patient Cine
mish, 7 ie eda gun, stealee money. Mebbyso my
gettee even.’

“Ho! Dat’s why yo’ come en put hit 1 up duke me, huh?
Ah ’lows yo’ ain’t er bad chink, but whut’s Ah gwineter
do? Marse Cody’s gone, en all his pa’ds hab gone oe
him. Whut’s Ah gwine tuh do?’

“You makee luck?” whispered San Toy, inawe. =

“Dat’s mah bizness, chink,” replied Uncle Gus im-
portantly.

“You makee mo’ luck,” urged San Toy; “makee bes
plenty, savee Buff’ Bill. Hoop-a-la!”

With that, and feeling elated to think that, after all,
he had accomplished his purpose, San Toy shuffled down
the porch steps. At the foot of steps he paused and
turned,

“Makee bad luck’ fo’ McBlide. ” Me” requested, ue
bad luck. Makee same bad luck fo’ McBlide bis makee
good luck fo’ Buff’ Bill, Hoop-a-la!”

Then, believing in his Celestial heart that he had done
his full duty, San Toy wobbled away in ae direction of

_ his laundry.

Uncle Gus stared after him with eieine eyes and
sinking heart. The old negro knew well that his incanta-
tions and “prognosticums” had no more effect on the
scout and his fortunes than the blowing of the wind.
Uncle Gus was face to face with an issue that staggered
him, and that was almost too large an order for him to
tackle. o

“Whut Ah gwineter do?” hetasked himself, in an agony

of doubt. “Ah kain’t stay heah en do dis foolishness. Ef
Ah does, Marseé Cody en his pa’ds is gwineter be wiped
out. Ah wouldn’t pester mahse’f ef dat. baron. was

cleaned offen de slate, but Ah’s monsus feared fo’ Marse
Cody en de res’. Marse Cody’s been good tuh me, sut-
tenly he has! En dat ’ar Wild Bill done gib me dese
gemman clothes fo’ my prognosticatin’; en ole Nomad
done treat me all de time lak Ah was white en not brack ;
en dat Li’l Cayuse boy he done gib me er quahtah de
odder day. No, Ah kain’t leave dem tuh be sent topside.
Ah got tuh do somepin’, but whut’s Ah gwine tuh do?”
In his nervous bewilderment, Uncle Gus got up and
walked back and forth along the porch. Finally he made
up his mind, =
“Ah’ll git er hoss,” he muttered, “an An il Hae aiteh
Marse Cody. Ah'll ride lak de win’ en Ah’ll ketch up.wit.
him en tell him tuh look out fo’ trouble. Da’s whut
'‘Ah’ll do. But whar Ah gwineter git dat hoss?”
In his predicament, Uncle Gus turned naturally to Jie,
the clerk. t
“Mistah Jim,” he quavered, “Ah’s done got tuh ride
afteh Marse Cody. He went away en fo’got somepin’ dat
Ah’s got tuh gib him. Where kin Ah git er hoss?” —

 
 

 

16 THE BUFFALO
“Ve'd look nice ridin’ er hoss, Uncle Gus,” snickeré ed F

Jim. “Ye’d better stay right hyer an’ not try no ridin’

“Ah got tuh, en Ah got tuh sta’t right erway. Da’s
right. Marse Cody’ Il pay fo’ de hoss. Kin I hab de
animile ?”

“You kin,” answered Jim.
‘Buffalo Bill fergot?”
“Dat’s whut Ah kain’t tell yuh, Ware Jim. Yo’ jess
gib me de hoss en Ah’ll do de res’.
Uncle Gus was afraid to tell the clerk what the China-
man had told him. The darky’s fears had made him
cautious and a bit unreasonable. He knew that the scout
-and his pards had started for Lost Burro Cafion. Uncle
Gus had been over the course as far as Adobe Wells. His
present plan comprised moving straight on Adobe Wells,
in the hope of overhauling the pards there..
_ Half an hour after-he had asked Jim for the horse,
Uncle Gus was southbound in the gathering dusk, boun-
cing around like a bag of meal in a big Mexican saddle.
The horse was at a keen gallop, and the old darky’s th
were rattling like castanets.

“But what’s this hyer thing

 

CHAPTER ix,
ON THE TRAIL.

Uncle Gus was some acquainted with mules, but he
had never had much to do with horses. The bouncing he
got on that ranch-bred mustang almost drove the top of
his spine out through his head.

“Mah goodness,” he chattered, “but dis is monsus ha’d
ridin’! De hoss seems tule trabble stiff-laigged, an’ ebry
- time he comes down Ah feels lak Ah’d drapped er mile
en landed on de rock ob Gibberhaltar.” :

Nevertheless, in spite of his many discomforts, Uncle
Gus dug in with his heels and urged the cayuse to top
speed. With his hat jammed down over his ears, and
the long tails of his coat flapping out behind him, he
would have been a fearsome spectacle for any chance
traveler to look at.

Night had closed in, ‘and the trail ran through the
gloom like a whitish streak. The darky’s eyes were
old and none too keen, but he kept to the trail without
much trouble. !

He had traveled that road, between Adobe Wells and
Sa oauvile, several days previously in company with
the king of scouts and his pards. Beyond Adobe Wells,
- in the mountains between there and Fort Grant, he had
hoofed it over the trail, and had met with a hair-raising
etic which had made that particular part of the
country “muy malo” for him for all time.

ffe strained his eyes to watch the landmarks as he
passed them, in order to keep track of his rate of
progress. The swiftness with which he was covering the
trail amazed him. Never in his life had he moved so

 

BILE SPORES.

rapidly before, except when he had traveled ona railroad
train,

“Ah’s yer comin’, Ah’s er comin’,” he puiteeted, be
tween his rattling teeth, “Marse Cody, Uncle Gus is shore
a-comin’. Wait fo’ Uncle Gus, Marse:Cody! Doan’ yuh
go en git in too big er hurry. Ah’s got somepin’ tuh tell
yuh, Marse"Cody, ‘deed Ah has! Wait fo’ Uncle Gus.”

The scout’s mascot deserved a lot of credit for that
ride. The night had terrors for the old negro, but they
were as nothing compared with the terrible racking his
old bones received from the galloping horse. Every time
the cayuse took a stride, Uncle Gus went a foot out of
the saddle. He couldn’t keep his feet in the stirrups, and
the big wooden rests hooded with their tapaderos slashed
and banged against the sides of the horse. “

Jim, the clerk, had taken-some thought of Uncle Ch
and had provided him with a mount that was compara-
tively gentle. Had it been otherwise, Uncle Gus would
have been hoisted into the air and dropped by the way-
side.

Every bone in the negro’s
hinged and to break loose.

“Dar goes mah lef’ laig,’ he mumbled, “jounced fear
offen me! Heah dem ribs, will yo’? Dey’s all loose. en
knockin’ togedder. Right soon Ah bet mah ole neck
is gwineter snap off. Wow! Ah feels lak Ah was all
upside-down inside ob me.”

As Uncle Gus figured the distance, he was considerably
more than half way to Adobe Wells when a sharp com-
mand to “Halt!” reached his ears.

body orem to become. un-

a

He couldn’t see anybody. The order came out of the
gloom from a chaparral of greasewood that edged the
trail.

“Kain’t stop!” chattered Uncle Gus;
tite.”

Bang! : »

A firearm exploded, and a bullet hissed past Uncle
Gus’s head.

“Dat’s diffrunt,” muttered Uncle Gus, pulling in on
the reins. “Stop yore shootin’ en Ah’ll stop mah runnin’.
Is yo’ Injuns, er what?”

Inwardly quaking, Uncle Gus visited in the trail, while
half a dozen shadowy horsemen galloped clear of. the
chaparral and surrounded him.

One of the men rode close and peered into the old ne-
gros face. Then he gave a husky laugh.

“Fooled, fellers!” said he.
want, an’ he ain't a-straddle o’ Prouty’s koss.
hyer’s a nigger.”

“Ah’s er gemman ob colah, sah,” spoke up Uncle Gus, .
with all the dignity possible in his bruised and battered
condition, “en ef yo’s froo wif me Ah’ll mosey. Ah’s in
er pow’ful rush.”

“Blamed if it ain't that nigger of Buffalo a Said
another man, likewise riding close.

“Ah ain't got no

“This ain’t> the man we

This

 

 

 

 
 

THE BUFFALO “BILL STORIES.

“Yase, suh,”..said Unele Gus, “Ah’s Marse Cody’s
‘ficial mascot. Yo’ all been erroun’ heah long?”

“Bout an hour.”

“Did yuh see Marse Cody en pa’ds ride past.?”

“No. Is Cody somewhere in the hills?”

~“Yase, suh. Ah’s ridin’ tuh find ‘im, an’ hit’s mouty
‘potant bizness. *Scuse me, gemman, but Ah got tuh be
goin’,”

Uncle Gus tried to start, but one of the men grabbed
the horse’s bridle.

“Not so fast! What’re you in a’hurry for?’

“Kase Marse Cody’s in dangeh,”’ answered Uncle Gus.
“Dat ’ar no-’count trash ob a Taranch McBride’s done
gone an’ put up a job on Marse Cody, en Ah got tuh git
whar Ah kin tell some one.”

“What sort of a Jon! eT

“McBride’s goin’ tuh git the Injuns tuh lay fo’ Marse
Cody.’

“You’re sure McBride’s the one that’s doing it?”

““Yassuh,”

“Hyer’s a clue, boys!” called the man who’d been do-
ing the talking. ‘“McBride’s the feller that took the
hoss, an’ we’re foolish ter be waitin’ fer him around hyer.
Hey, Prouty °”

“Looks thet-a-way,” “But whar’ll
we go, Jed?”

The other man again addressed Uncle Gus.

“My name’s Jed Henderson,” said he, ‘‘and I’m deperty
sher’ff fer this hyer county. This Taranch McBride, as
nigh as we kin make out, run off a hoss belongin’ ter
Prouty, thar. We’re lookin’ fer McBride. D’ye know
whar he was goin’ ?”

“Ah heah dat he was bound fo’ Lost Burro Cajfion,”’
answered Uncle Gus.

“Ts thet whar Cody and his pards went?”

“Dat’s whar dey sta’ted fo’, but Ah ‘lows dey was
ewineter stop at "Dobe Wells. Ah’m headed fo’ dar,
hopin’ tuh come up wif de scout en gib him mah
warnin’,”

“We might as well, go with the darky, Jed,” said
Prouty. “Buffalo Bill will be as anxious ter ketch
McBride as we air, when Gus tells him what’s on his
mind. Anyways, if McBride is plannin ter do the scout
dirt, the quickest way ter nab the hoss thief is ter trail
erlong with Buffalo Bill.”

“Jest what I was thinkin’,”
“We'll ride with ae moke, boys,
Wells. Git a-goin’.’

The horses were started, and Uncle Gus resumed, his
bouncing,

“Why don’t ye stay in yer saddle, Gus?” inquired
Prouty. “I kin jest see ye, in ther dark, bobbin’ up an’
down like a Jack-in-the-box. Saddles was made ter
stay in. Yore’n ain’t much use, seein’ ye ain’t in it much
ter speak of.” :

answered another.

answered Henderson.
an. hike ier. “Dobe

Poh eP SA a te eae a See ale aa aT eae ce eat a aa aR a as otc eV eg! ee

-robb’ry.

Inna Sa dc Fle) Ah hip le al Rao eA oy ee St

17
~

“Ah stays in hit all I kin,” quavered Uncle Gus.
““Ah’s gittin’ monsus tiahd keepin’ in de air so long.”

Uncle Gus, however, felt considerable curiosity in
spite of the ache in his bones.

“Why yo’ all huntin’ dishyer Taranch?” he asked. ,
“Hevn’t ye connected with that be asked Prouty.
“T thought ye knowed he stole one 0’ my hosses an’ run:

ther animile off.”

“How d’yuh know hit was dat Taranch?”’

“Waal, he was seen gittin’ out o’ town by Buck Sim-
mons, behind us, thar. Buck come ter me an’ said one
o’ my hosses was gone an’ wanted ter know if I’d let
some un take the critter. That’s whar I got next ter the
The feller Buck seen answered the deescription
o’ this hyer Taranch, so I got Henderson an’ a few more,

an’ we traveled south. We thort we must hev got ahead

o’ the thief, an’ laid by in that chaparral; when we heerd
you comin’ we was dead sure we was clost ter the man
we wanted.”

“Dat Taranch is a low-down fellah ! declared Uncle
Gus. “He ort tuh be hung, en dat’s whut.”

“Yas he ort,” agreed Prouty. |

“Which same is my idee,” carne from Buck Simmons.

“Mebby he ort,” put in Jed Henderson, “but he ain't
a-goir’ ter*be. ‘lf ketched; hell eo ter the pen fer a:
while. No necktie parties while I’m at the head o’ this
hyer possey come-and-git-us.”’
_ This statement was received by Prouty, Buck, and the
rest with silent dissatisfaction. If they had had their

‘own way, a few feet of rope and a tree would have been

the toll exacted from Taranch McBride. But the deputy
sheriff stood for law'and order, and he stood for it with
both guns and to the last breath, if necessary. :
“What. sort of er ruction did Buffalo Bill hev with
Taranch at the hotel, Uncle Gus?” inquired Henderson.
“Taranch stole fom de scout, dat’s whut he done,”
said Uncle Gus. “Taranch done stole de ’Pachie totem.”
‘An all-around thief, that feller!’ grunted Prouty. —
‘En he stole a lettah f’om de post orfice dat was
a-comin’ to de scout,” went on Uncle Gus.
“Worse an’ niore of it,’ growled Henderson. “Uncle
Sam could do a few things with Taranch. How did the

_whelp git away from ther scout?”

‘““Marse Cody let ‘im go.”

“That’s queer, an’ no mistake.
Buffalo Bill won ‘a’ let the thief git away.
he do it?”

“Bekase he tole Marse Cody somepin’ dat Marse Cody
wanted a heap ter know. Da’s why. En doan’ any ob

I wouldn’t hev thought
Why did

you uns git tuh findin’ fault wif Marse rae Dat’s
somepin’ dat Ah won’t stan fo’, not noways.” |
“No: one’s findin’ fault wit him, Uncle Gus,” said

Henderson. ‘‘Whatever Buffalo Bill does is all right.
Ah!” he added, “over thar's Adobe Wells.”
Off to the right of the trail, in a gloomy little basin,

 

i Hp aa aa ah a sich te A at ats a aan atelier de cnet Se ens bn Uy a a thie Kaalitlin ge Sie tak La ai os pe ee

 
 

18 THE BUFFALO

could be seen a glow of light from the mud cabin. The
party turned from the trail and spurred their horses
over the basin’s rim.’

“Now ef Marse Cody is on’y dar!” murmured Uncle
(Gus, ¢ |

: CHAP CER XE.

THE Scout's PLAN.

Buffalo Bill and his pards were not long in taking the ©

trail after their final talk with Taranch McBride. About
twe hours after McBride had left the hotel, and in some-
what less than an hour after he had left Solomonsville,
the party of riders galloped clear of the town.

-The scout, on Bear Paw, with Wild Bill on his: war
horse, Beeswax, led the party.
Nomad on Hide-rack, and little Cayuse on his pinto,
Navi. Bringing up the rear was the baron on his mule,
Togiet.

_. The plans the scout a formed comprised a round-up
ms this pards at Adobe Wells, and a wait there until
morning before going into Lost Burro Cafion. They

had been one night in Lost Burro Cafion, with Apaches

besieging them, and they were not minded to’repeat the
experience. They deemed it advisable to take daylight
for their attempt at capturing Time-o’-day.

At Adobe Wells a surprise greeted the pards.

granddaughter, a girl named Lasca,

Gonzales and Lasca had: played treacherous parts in
_ the first visit the scout and his friends had paid to the
water hole. Later, Lasca had more than redeemed her-
self by befriending the scout. But the pards had thought
that Lasca had gone out of the country for good. Hence
their surprise at finding her at the wells.

The girl greeted Wild Bill,’ Nomad, the baron, aad
Little. Cayuse coldly. Only to the scout did she show
any particular pleasure over this unexpected meeting.

“Can we put up here for the night, or f” the scout
asked.

“Certainly, sefior,”’ the girl es |
horses to the corral, and then come into the house and
make yourselves comfortable.’

The horses were turned out, Cayuse and the baron be-
ing left to watch them. A guard was necessary, as
Adobe Wells was not more than a mile from the gully
in Lost Burro Cafion, where the Apaches. were supposed
to be in force. A descent by the reds on Adobe Wells
was easy, and must be guarded against.

Nomad and Wild Bill accompanied the scout into the
mud cabin. Gonzales, smoking a cigarro, sat in an easy-
chair‘in one corner of the living room.

_ “The old Mexican had not much use for the Ameri-
canos, and he gave them only curt nods of recognition.

   

aa a a et ae ee Aap hy» ed ed te ser AN ra St eee

Behind them came old

They
found there an old Mexican named Gonzales, and his

“Take your.

BILE STORIES.

% a

The three pards took chairs, and fell to with their PIPES
Buffalo Bill was busy with his thoughts.

How must he go about it to snatch ‘Time-o’-day away
from the Apaches? Probably the reds were not, as yet,
under the domination of the red rogue from over the
border, and would not be until the totem came into Time-
o’-day’s hands. But the matter was in the nature of a

- desperate enterprise, and the scout and his pards, must

move carefully if they were to succeed.

Giving over his thoughts, after a time, the scout cern
to Lasca. The girl was sitting beside her erandfather,
her clasped hands in her lap and her eyes lowered.

Wild Bill had tried to engage her in conversation, but
without avail. At the scout’s first word, however, she
lifted her face, and turned upon him her large, lustrous
eves ci

“When I saw you last, Lasca,” said Buffalo Bill, Gon
were thinking of leaving the ae

“Gonzales and I intended to go,’ butt a

‘said, she,

_ gold we had, which was to nie us into Mexico, was

stolen.”

P OLOLeH «|

Not only the scout, but ae two pards as well, ke
up their ears at that.

“Si”? went on the girl a little bitterly.
that we had to come back to Adobe Wells.”

“Who stole the money ?”

The bitterness increased to venom in the ak voice
as she answered:

“The: Apaches.”

Her reason for bitterness. was quite well understood by
the pards. Lasca’s father was the man who called him-

“Because of

self Boston Pete, at one time leader of the Apaches..

That the redskins should turn on the daughter of their
former leader, was enough to arouse the girl’s indigna-
tion and wrath. Still, it was no more than she might
have expected. They had not only turned on her, since
Boston, Peter’s capture, but had, at the instigation of
Sangamon Charlie, threatened her life. :

“Did the Mexican Apache who calls himself Ti ime-o’-
day have anything to do with the theft?” ae the
scout.

“He had all to do with it,” the girl replied.

“Was the gold all you had?’ :

‘All we had in the world, sefior, except this place at
the wells.”

“Flow much gold did you lose?”

“One hundred pieces, twenty pesos each.’

“By gorry!” struck in Wild Bill, with a quick tole
at the scout.
that that’s the gold Time- -o'-day. promised Taranch for
the totem.”

“My notion to a dot,” agreed the scout.
bothered for some time to understand where Time-o’ -day
got that money. Now the mystery is settled.” :

 

“Say, pard, [ll bet something handsome -

“ve been |

 
 

 

BSCE EE intone OO han es nen ny oeen toga nh aon IC eI ee ROME SS Reva ia ae

t Y TEE. BUR RALO

Buffalo Bill smoked for a few minutes reflectively.

“When I saw you last, Lasca,” said he finally, “you
promised to call on me and my pards if ever you needed
help. Why didn’t you send word to us?”

“This happened four days ago,” replied the girl. “In
the morning sefior, I was going to ride to Solomonsville
and ask you to help. But you are here now, and it is
not necessary for me to leave the wells.”

“And it also happens, Lasca,” smiled the scout, “that
we are here on our way to Lost Burro Cafion to try and
capture Time-o’-day.”

A smoldering glow leaped into the girl’s eyes.

“Then this is luck for us, sefior,” said she.

“Tt is luck for us, too, to be able to help you.”

“Do you ever think of the risks? No? Ah, that is

your way, sefior! The danger is great.”

“Not so great for men with good horses, who pnaye
how to ride and fight, and with the daylight to-see where
they are.”

“Will you tell me what started you for the hills, |

sefior ?”

The scout knew that he could trust Lasca.
he told of recent events in Solomonsville.
listened thoughtfully.

“Tt was wrong of you, sefior, to let this Taranch go,”
she declared.

“He gave us the information we wanted.” @

“Even so, but these desert arabs are like the side-
winder—they strike when and where you least expect.
There are one or two, among the Apaches, who still are
friendly toward me. These two have contrived to let
me know that they had nothing to do with stealing our
gold, and that, if they could, they. would recover it for
me. After what you say, however, I see that they will
not be able to do anything. Time-o’-day will hang onto
the oro dinero.”

Por another half hour the scout smoked; then, knock-
ing the ashes from ihis brier, he got up.

‘“Pards,” said he, “I am going on a scout.”

“Waugh,” cried old Nomad, leaping to his feet, “thet
hits me plump.”

“Same here,” chimed in Wild Bill.

“And I am going alone,” finished the scout.

His pards sank back in their chairs, disappointed.

“Whar ye goin’, Buffler?” asked Nomad.

“Up Lost Burro Cafion as far as the overhanging
rock,”

“Right past ther gully an’ inter the thick o’ the reds!
What’s ther reason the rest’ o’ yer pards kaint go
with ye?”

“Because I think it safer for you to stay here. One
can go where three, or five, cannot. I’ll look over the
ground and lay my plans for what’s to happen to-mor-_
We will have to strike quick and hard if we win
I’m going to see whether or not

Therefore
The girl

row.
out in this game.

it

Tink TAS tm nT saw RR Rn A ws

~ Taranch told us the truth about the woe

BILL STORIES.

It's im-
portant that we know.”

“Tt’s important enough,” grumbled Wild Bill,
you ought to let some one trail along.”

“T’ll be back before sun-up,” said the scout, buckling
on his revolver belt and picking up his hat.

Lasca said nothing, but followed him with her eyes un-
til the door cl@sed behind him.

A little later the diminishing sound of hoofs resthed
the ears of those in the cabin.

“He hadn't ort ter done et,” sconlees old Nomad.

‘but

1

got er feelin’ somethin’s goin’ ter happen.”

“Something’ll sure happen to any reds that try to head

Pard Cody off,” returned Wild Bill grimly.

“Many’s ther time Buffler an’ me hes scouted through
the night with pizen reds as thick as flees on a yaller
dorg all around us,’ proceeded the discontented Nomad.
“An’ hyar he leaves his trapper pard same’s if I was a
hired man. Snarlin’ catermounts, but et grinds me.”

“Make the most of it,” grinned Wild Bill, pulling a
pack of well-thumbed playing cards from his pocket and
hitching his chair toward a table. “Seven-up’s a fine
game. When things go as you don’t think they ought,
seven-up’s a powerful soother. Square away, here, and
show me what you can do, Nick.”

“Reckon we mout as well play as ter sot here and
grumble,” answered the trapper, drawing his chair to the
table. “I couldn’t turn in an’ git any sleep, nohow, not
while Buffler is rammin’ eround ther hills with reds on
all sides o’ him. Go ahead and deal.”

As they got busy with the cards, the cry of a wolf
came from a distance. It was not unusual, that cry of a
wolf. It aroused no comment from Wild Bill or Nomad.

-Lasca, however, got up quietly, and went into the
kitchen. A moment later she let herself noiselessly out
of the house, and glided wraithlike through the gloom
toward the eastern rim of the basin.

Here she paused, while a dusky, half-nude Apache
started up before her, seemingly out of the very ground.

“Pedro?” she asked.

SA

“Well,” went on the girl, “what do you want?”

CHAPTER XIL
A DASH THROUGH THE NIGHT.

The Apache and the girl talked in the Spanish lan-
guage.

“T come to say to the white squaw,” said Pedro, “that
a white thief has been captured by Time-o’-day. He
was told to go to Solomonsville and steal the totem from
Pa-e-has-ka. If he got the totem he was to bring it back
and get the gold taken from the white squaw and the
old Mexican.”

naps ee ae tgs SRC OS peat gin net Les Wh Get E

gO nd AN ib ane DnB le eae iil ra men At gy

 
 

“20 THE BUFFALO

Already the girl had heard about this from the scout.

“Well,” she answered, “the white thief did not get the
totem, aftd he did not come back.” —

“He did not get the totem, but he came back. It was
an hour ago he arrived.”

The girl was startled.

“Why did he come back?” she demanded.

“To tell Time-o’-day how he could get @he totem.”

“What did he tell the renegade from Mexico?”

“That Buffalo Bill and his pards were on the trail, that
they had the totem, and that they would pass the mouth
of Lost Burro Cafion soon.”

“Well?” queried the girl excitedly. “Go on.”

“Time-o’-day has laid an ambush for the scout at the
mouth of the cafion. When Pa-e-has-ka and his pards
come, they will be slain, and Time-o’-day will get the
totem. Also, the white thief will get the gold taken from
the white squaw and old Gonzales. When the warriors
‘moved from the gully, I was left behind. I rode here
to tell the white squaw.”

The girl bowed her head and thought quickly.

“Where is your horse, Pedro?” she asked.

“At the top of the ridge.”

“T will ride back toward the cafion with you. Wait.”

Turning, she ran around the house. Fortunately, her
riding pony was not in the corral, so she did not have
to disturb the baron or Cayuse, or have a delay because
of questions they might ask her.

Quickly, she put on the pony’s bridle, and leaped to his
bare back. She moved softly until she was well away
from the house where those inside could not hear the fall
of hoofs; then she broke into a gallop, ascended the
side of the basin, and was met by Pedro, the Apache.

Lasca had her own reasons for not taking Wild Bill,
Nomad, the baron, or Cayuse into her confidence. First,
to do this would have caused a delay. The scout had
been gone less than half an hour on his way to the
cafion. He would proceed slowly, as men on scout al-
ways go, and she believed she could overtake him before
he entered the. cafion. _But her second reason for not
telling the scout’s pards what was going on was her
fierce distrust of them. Only the king of scouts himself
had the girl’s confidence.

“Ride, Pedro, ride!” hissed the girl, bringing her
quirt down in stinging lines on her pony’s withers.

The mustang squealed and stretched himself out in a
dash through the night.

~ “Why do you go this way?” oe Pedro, “and la do
you go so fast?”

“Because Pa-e-has-ka is ahead, on his way to the
cafion, and Pa-e-has-ka is a friend of the white squaw.”

“Is Pa-e-has-ka’s compadres with him?”

“No, he is alone.”

“Tf he reaches the mouth of the cafion he will never
get through it alive,” said Pedro placidly.

 

ESS date age ae a a TS TR ARES MOET aaa ee

BILL. STORIES:

“Then he must not reach the mouth of the cau
will overtake him.”

“Is he far ahead ?”

“Half an hour, Pedro.”

“The mouth of the cafion is not far.
been there a long time.”

“Have you heard any shooting?”

“Naki

“You would have heard shooting if he had reached
the cafion?”

Ste

“Then, until we hear shooting, there is time.”

Pedro could not but agree to this. Side by side the
two ponies split the night wind, flinging sand from their
flying heels.

The riders listened with straining ears for the sound

He must have

of distant firing which would tell them that Buffalo Bill —

had entered the trap laid by Taranch McBride and
Time-o’-day ; also, they strained their eyes for some sign
of the scout in the darkness ahead.

Their course took them through rough country. There
was no trail, but instinctively the Indian scented out the
best going and the shortest route.

The bleak, barren uplifts threw weird shadows around
the fleeing riders. Into a pit of gloom they would dash;
then out into the lighter night, and on again.

“It would not be well for Pedro to be seen by the
Apaches with the nie squaw,” said the redskin, “I
must leave you soon.’

“Tell me this before you go, Pedro,” answered the
girl. “Will the renegades follow Time-o’-day after
they promised Narbona to go back to the reservation in
peace?”

“They will follow if they get the totem to-night,’ de-
clared the Indian.

“They will not get the totem.”

“The white thief said that Pa-e-has-ka carried the
totem with him, and that if Pa-e-has-ka was slain Time-

o’-day would get the totem.”

“Pa-e-has-ka has not got the totem with him.”

“Then the Apaches will discover it.”

“But not until after Pa-e-has-ka has been shot down!”

“Ai, If the Apaches do not get the totem, they will
not have Time-o’-day for their leader. Time-o’-day told
the Apaches that Narbona was coming into his hands to-
night. If he spoke with a crooked tongue, Time-o’-day
will be without warriors, and the white thief will be
killed.”

“Then——”

The girl’s words died.in a rattle of firearms. Ahead
of the riders loomed the bastions through which was the
rent known as Lost Burro Cafion. They could see the
black, wedge-shaped gap leading into the hills, and when
the crash of weapons sounded they could see the little,

starlike spurts of flame from the muzzleloaders.

 

 

 

 

 
 

   

THE BUFFALO

A stifled cry escaped the girl. Pedro drew his panting
pony to a halt, and, as he did so, leaned forward and
caught the bridle of the girl’s horse.

“That is the end,” said he. “Soon the Apaches will
know that the white thief talked with a crooked tongue,
and that Pa-e-has-ka did not have the totem. Time-
o’-day will have to shift for himself, and the white thief
will meet his fate.”

“But. Pa-e-has-ka -

“The white squaw has done what she could. She must
be satisied. The Americano scout was a friend?”

Se

“Pedro is sorry. He had nothing evil in his heart for
the scout. I will leave you, and Francisco and I will see
what we can do to get the oro dinero. You must go back
to the"

Pedro paused, then suddenly whispered:

_ “Ride in among the greasewood, out of sight! Keep
“your cayuse from making a noise! Some Apache broth-
ers are near us, and I will talk with them.”

 

The girl obeyed the command swiftly. Hardly had
the bushes ceased waving behind her when two horse-
men came riding at speed from the direction of the
cafion. :

Pedro gave vent to an Apache cry. The two other
Apaches rode close, and talked with him. Then they
rode on, leaving Pedro alone once more.

The Indian waited until the other Apaches were well
away before he called the girl.

“What did they tell you, Pedro?” Lasca asked, riding
clear of the chaparral.

“They told me that Pa-e-has-ka went through the
mouth of the cafion.” |

eater:

“Ai. His horse, they say, carried him swifter than
any Indian cayuse could travel. They saw him once,
like a shadow, and they fired. After that they heard the
beat of his horse’s hoofs up the cafion, but they could not
find Pa-e-has-ka’ on the ground. Time-o’-day and half
the warriors, with the white thief, are chasing up the
cafion; the rest are searching for Pa-e-has-ka’s com-
padres.”
“Then there is hope!” exclaimed the girl.

“Ai, The white chief is:'too wary for the Apaches.”

“Did the two warriors ask why you were here?”

“Ai. I told them I, also, was hunting for the scout.
When they meet Time-o’-day and tell him, he will say
that Pedro is a traitor, and I will be killed.”

“Don’t go back to the Apaches, Pedro,” said the girl.
“Come with me to find the scout. We may be able to
do something for him.”

“Buenos! I can do nothing more. But,’ he @dded
distrustfully, “this is not squaw’s work. It is warrior’s
work,”’

 

anti ttn! ksh sn pl nme nce hw et a ag

BILE, STORIES,

“It is my work, Pedro.”

“Go back to the wells and let me find Pa-e-has-ka and
help him.”

“No., Let us ride.”

Lasca started on toward the mouth of the cafion. Giy-
ing over his attempt to persuade her, Pedro rode at her
side, directing the course in such a manner that the deep-
est shadows always lay around them.

The Indian’s peril, for the present, lay in the presence
of the girl. To be seen with her meant instant exposure
to the vengeance of the other savages.

“T’m depending on you, Pedro,” said Lasca.

“Once, many moons ago,” replied the Apache, “the
white squaw’s father saved Pedro from death. Pedro’s
life belongs to the white squaw, as it would have be-
longed to her father. She can trust me.”

Silently, keeping close to the base of one of the frown-
ing walls, the two passed into the cafion. Funereal
silence reigned all around them. Pedro’s horse suddenly
struck something with his foot, snorted, and «shied.
Pedro, muttering in his throat, leaped down, knelt in the
gloom, and felt with his hands. one

“What is it?” the girl whispered.

“A white man, sefiorita.”

“Dead ?””

man oe
.. Ay de mi!” breathed the girl.

“Not Pa-e-has-ka,’ went on Pedro, once more regain-
ing the back of his pony, “but the white thief. He was
slain by the Apache brothers, or by Time-o’-day. We
will ride on.”

Thus Taranch McBride, playing with fire, had won his
black reward.

CHAPTER: XITl.

Ei Ne RO Te RAN Bis

Buffalo Bill, when he went to the corral for Bear Paw,
had even more difficulty getting away from the baron
than ‘the had leaving Nomad and Wild Bill. Cayuse al-
ways accepted orders without comment, no matter how
little they agreed with his own wishes, but the baron
occasionally became clamorous, as he was in this in-
stance.

Finally the scout cut the argument short with a crisp
word, and galloped off toward the rim of the basin.

The country between Adobe Wells and the cafion was
familiar ground to him. He moved at a leisurely pace,
hugging the shadows and watching with trained, ob-
servant eye and keen ear for “signs.”

Seeing nothing to alarm him, he increased his pace.
Steadily he came nearer to the wedge-shaped opening in
the bluffs. When almost at the cafion entrance he saw a

 

 
     

     
 

 

THE BUFFALO

22,

 

dot of light, as though some one had struck a match to
light a cigarro or a pipe.

Instantly every faculty was on the alert! He did not
turn Bear Paw, but touched the horse with the rowels.
The. animal jumped forward like an arrow from a bow,
and shot into the cafion at top speed. ,

Then the guns rattled and lances flew. The bullets
churned the air all around the scout, and the lances,
dropping downward, gave him two or three close calls.
But, uninjured, he dashed on up the black defile.

Unwittingly he had fallen into a trap. He drew a
long breath as he realized what he had escaped. Only
Bear Paw’s fleetness had saved him from enemies posted
among the rocks on each side of the cafion’s mouth.

They were Apaches, of course; and, equally of course,
they were captained by the Mexican renegade. But how
had it happened that they had set this trap for him?
How had Time-o’-day been able to fix up his ambush?
Who had brought him notice of the scout’s movements?

For an instant Buffalo Bill’s suspicions clustered about
Lasca.

Could the girl have sent, by sonie swift Apache run-
ner, news~to Time-o’-day? Was the story about the
stolen gold only a shift to beguile the scout and his
pards ?

Almost as quickly as the suspicions oie them-
selves, they were brushed aside.

No, it was not the girl.

Then could it have been Gonzales?

Hardly. The old Mexican had not stirred from his
chair all the while the scout, Nomad, and Wild Bill were
in the house with him.

The scout was inclined to think that the Mexican
Apache had had braves spying upon Adobe Wells; that
these braves had discovered the presence of the scout and
his pards and had carried word to Time-o’-day ; and that
the would-be leader of the gang had inferred that the
trail of the pards lay through the cafion and had posted
his men accordingly. °

Behind him Buffalo Bill could hear a clatter of hoofs.
-The Apaches were on his trail, and, from the sound of
galloping, he knew there were plenty of them.

Near the overhanging rock the scout knew at least two
places where horse and rider could scale the cafion walls.
He would leave the defile in this way, mak« a circuit
through the gloomy uplifts, and so regain Adcbe Wells.

This was his thought. Prospective dancers grew less
and less as he raced up the cafion. He felt positive that,
in a very short time, he would be scaling the wall and
getting clear of the trap.

Like lightning, he whirled past the gully leading into
the corral. Presently he came to a turn of the cafion,
darted around it, and laid a course past the overhang and.
to the spot where he was to make his climb to the rim.
Everything seemed suspicious. No Apaches appeared

    

     

BILL STORES.

to dispute his passage along the cafion, and it seemed
‘ : ' : g

evident that all his foes were behind him.
Bear Paw’s swiftness would win the day, gaining time

over the pursuers so that the wall could be climbed and

a safe lead secured from the crest.

At the base of the steep slope where he was to begin

the ascent he drew reign for a minute and listened along
the back trail.
Yes, they were coming, a lot of them. The drumming

of ponies’ hoofs was only a murmur, but the sound was

&

rapidly growing louder.
He put Bear Paw to the slope.

     

‘Then, before the gal~ ~

lant horse had climbed a dozen feet, a burst of flame

leaped skyward from the cafion’s rim. In the glow, Buf-
falo Bill saw the half-naked forms of Apaches.

Cunningly Time-o’-day had sent men along the rim

to guard the places where the wall could be scaled.
These warriors, in order to help them do their guard
duty, had fired the huge bole of a sahuara cactus.
forty. feet the flame leaped upward over the gigantic bole
of the sahuara, casting a weird light all around the top of
the wall, but doing little to light up the depths below.

Another sahuara was fired; then another, and another.
Farther up the cafion flames broke out at another place
which the scout had also counted upon trying. Both
rims were watched, and the trap seemed complete.

Down the cafion the roll of hoofs had grown into a
wild clatter, the sounds reverberating between the granite
walls,

“The net is drawn and tied,” muttered the scout. “I'll
have to give this Mexican Apache credit for knowing
how to do a job like this in proper fashion. We'll go
across the cafion, Bear Paw, and hide under the over-

hang. It’s lucky the rest of my pards are not here—
one man can hide more securely than five. Sharp’s the
word, boy!”

Spurring across the bottom of the defile, Buffalo, Bill
rode in under a rock that jutted out from the face of the
wall. Here there had been built up two walls of stone,
making of the overhang a rendezvous Which the rene-
gade Apaches had been wont to use in Boston Pete’s
time,

The scout did not go into the stone house under the
rock, but rode up against the wall so that one corner of
it lay between. him and the galloping redskins.

Here he dismounted. With a revolver in one hand, he
held the crown of his hat over Bear Paw’s nose with the
other to prevent an ill-timed whinny from revealing his
hiding place, and waited.

The red riders came on up the gully pellmell; then,
a little way above the overhang, the whole party suddenly
drew rein and began os i the warriors on the rim
of thé’ cafion.

‘They were asking for news of the scout, and word
came back to those below that he had not been*seen. -

For’

a

 

 
 

 

THE. BUPRALO

Meantime, so many sahuatas had been fired along each
bank that a dull glow filtered-down into the cafion. The
scout, looking out from under the wide rock, was: able
to use his eyes to some purpose.

He saw. one of the redskins throw himself from his.

pony, pick up one of the animal’s forward hoofs, and
run a groping hand over it.

Evidently the mustang had gone lame, and the Apache
was trying to find the injury.

“Go to the other slope and ask for the ‘Agnes ican! ip
called the man on the ground.

“Tf he is not there, captain?” returned one of the war-
riors.

“Then wait till I come. The dog must be here, and if
he has the totem it is ours.”

The scout’s pulse quickerfed: Here, in the defile op-
posite him, not more than thirty feet from the overhang,
was ‘Time-o’-day! And he had sent his warriors up the
defile while he waited and looked after his pony!

‘Chance plays so into a brave man’s hand once in a
hundred times, perhaps, or a thousand; and when oppor-
tunity comes knocking at a man’s door like that he
should make the most of it.

Buffalo Bill was alone, and surrounded by foes. He
was in a trap, with redskins on every side, and yet he
could plan one of the most HespTate moves of his
‘perilous career.

Never would he have a better chance to capture this
red plotter from across the Rio Grande. If the capture
succeeded, there still remained the getting away; but that
was like to be hard enough alone, and it mattered little
if the scout had a prisoner to hamper him.

Luck showed itself to him by the circumstance that
had just transpired; to seize it boldly, and trust to the
same good fortune for ultimate escape, was the scout’s
part.

Pulling the reins over Bear Paw’s head, he allowed
them to dangle from the bit rings. With the reins in that
shape, the trained horse would stand like a rock. .

Changidlg ends with his revolver, Buffalo Bill stealthily
moved across the bottom of the dimly lit cafion.

The capitan’s horse was standing broadside to him,

and the capitan himself was on the opposite side, still

working at the lame foot.

These circumstances all favored the scout.

Carefully he made his way, taking heed that no stone
should cause a stumble and force his hand. But the ear
of Time-o’-day, trained like a wolf’s, caught the brushing
of boot soles on the sand. Letting the hoof fall, the sav-
age jumped around the head of his horse. The ap-
proaching form of the scout was seen in the dull glow
from the top of the cafion.

A wild Apache yell broke from the ha of the capitan.
It was clipped short by the spiteful bark of a revolver.

Bible STORIES. 23:

Swift as a lightning flash, the scout had hurled him-
self sidewise. The bullet passed him, but he gave a
groan, and dropped at full length.

The lame pony had given a Startled leap, and some-
thing had fallen jingling to the ground.

The capitan, starting toward the scout, swerved oe
his course, and picked up the object, whatever it was,
and then hurried toward the place where the scout lay ‘
motionless.

A hubbub of whoops came from both rims of the.
cafion, and from far up the defile. An Apache whoop of
triumph was emitted by the renegade leader.

He reached the scout, dropped a jingling bundle, and
bent down with a bared knife.

The scout’s hand lifted and struck a blow, straight
from the shoulder—a crushing, stunning blow that
brought the butt of a revolver against the Apachte’s head.

The knife dropped, and the man fell.

CHAPTER KIN,
A FRIEND IN NEED.

Moves and. expedients leaped through the scout’s
brain like the rapid fire of a Gatling gun. His masterful
mind grasped the entire situation. He knew what he
would have to do, and he proceeded swiftly and surely
to accomplish it.

Time-o’-day lay motionless where he had fallen. The
scout, knowing the blow would hold him helpless and
quiet, dashed for Bear Paw, and hurried the horse to
the spot where the brief encounter had taken place.

Lifting the unconscious Apache in his arms, he laid
him over the saddle. As he started to mount himself, his
foot struck the jingling bundle Time-o’-day had dropped.

Thinking rightly that it might be the gold that had
lured Taranch McBride to—what now proved to be—
his doom, the scout picked up the bag and swung it by .
a'thong loop from the saddle horn.

His perils increased a hundredfold by this delay, but
a sudden thought of Lasca impelled him to seize the bag...

As he leaped to Bear Paw’s back, behind the saddle .

cantle, the dusky riders were flowing over the cafion’s
rim, and down the cafion. They came like a tidal wave, -
and the scout’s only salvation lay in the fact that the
Apaches did not know what had happened, and that they
could not see.

The last the redskins had heard was the triumphant
whoop of Time-o’-day. That meant, perhaps, that he.
had slain the scout and secured the totem. So far, the
Apaches had had no reason to think otherwise. Only
when retreating hoofs sounded down the cafion, and
they found that the lame pony was without a rider, did.
their suspicions take form in their wondering minds.

 

praia Sy alae me ae gc ec tec a na

fei anh: poe Rt nb tea a a ard

 
 

 

 

 

24 THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. | oe '

The scout, in his uncomfortable position behind the
saddle, held to his captive with both hands, and gave
Bear Paw his head. As the,horse raced, the scout
stripped away what weapons his groping hands could
find about the silent form.

His one fear now was that Time-o’-day would revive
and proceed to struggle. The case was difficult enough
‘without that.

Bear Paw, doubles uidened: was hardly holding his
If his speeding hoofs should strike a stone in the |
cafion’s bed, disaster would come ely, and prove”
complete.

Close to the gully a sound struck on the scout’s ears
that informed him of fresh danger. A party was com-
ing from below. Through the thud of hoofs behind he
heard this new note of warning—a clipity-clip, clipity-
clip of pounding mustang feet.

He must take to the gully—there was nothing else
for it. ;

The darkness was deep, and he fancied the movement
could not be seen. If it was not heard, he felt that he
would be safe.

Swerving to the left, he pushed Bear Paw into the
brushy cleft, and waited.

Directly in front of the gully both pees of red
men met.

“The Americano!’ cried those from above;
the Americano scout and Time-o’-day ?”

own.

“where is

“Turn!” cried a husky voice.in the Apache tongue.

“Time-o’-day is below with the Americano and the totem.
I was to tell you to ride back. The Americano’s pards
are chasing the capitan to rescue their compadre! They
are-on the rim, by the fires! The capitano says to pursue
them and then to meet him in the big corral. Pronto,
warriors !”’

“But the capitan’s horse!’ demurred. those from
above; “his horse is lame, and has been left.”

“The capitan is riding the Americano’s horse. Have I
not seen him? Go! I am returning to the capitan.”

The dark wave from up the cafion turned on itself,
and rolled back, increased” by the smaller wave from
below.

Buffalo Bill sat wondering on his horse in the gully,
one hand cautiously about the throat of his captive.

Who was the Apache that had done this for him? the
scout asked himself. From whence had come this ftiend
in his time of need?

As the sound of galloping diminished and died out up
the cafion, a rustle among the bushes claimed the scout’s
attention. His hand gripped his revolver, and he leveled
it in the direction of the sound. |

“‘Pa-e-has-ka!” called a voice.

-“Here! Who are you? Careful, for 1 have you cov-
ered |”

The answer was in Spanish:

Ae EAE Cir ic aOR We aa GE AE a i GR ag aR Tig EM Oe i TN RE

Nate neeeesieete ae mee taesteeetenee
PS at Sita eae Ge el oi

Peg uaes. Pacha Oe te ee
Reber neta ee MONI ea
; Sete

“Tam Pa-e-has-ka’s friend. Do not fire.”

sApache?”

‘‘Ai. I sent the others on the wrong trail to give you a
chance, but they will soon be back. Come! Pronto,
senor!”

‘The scout was still undecided. Might this not be an- -
other trap?

“Who are you?) Why are you doing this forme?”

“For one to whom I owe my life, Pa-e-has-ka! But
we will both pay our lives if we wait long. Pedro
Apache is talking. Who have you across your saddle?”

“The Apache from across the border.”

“Buenos! Is he tied?”

“No, but he must be before we go farther.”

An Indian pushed close to the scout, and two hands
went groping over the limp form of Time-o’-day. The
Indian grunted.

“You got um rope?” he asked in broken English.

“Here,” answered the scout, dropping into the same
tongue. :

The rope was taken from the saddle, nate: and
swift hands passed it around and around the form of
the prisoner. The Apache’s hands and feet were secured,
and he was so enmeshed that he could not move.

“Now,” breathed Pedro Apache, “vamos!”

Buffalo Bill, fully reassured regarding his ee
companion, spurred from the gully’s mouth into the
larger defile. Pedro had already mounted his pony, and
the two rode back down the cafion. oe

“How did you know I was in the ae the scout
asked, in Spanish.

“T knew, sefior, that you had not passed us, and that
you were between us and the other Apaches. So, you
could only be in the gully.”

“But the Indians with you——

“T met them lower down, sefior, and told them the
same.”

“How. did you: know I was in difficulties up the ~
cafion? That I had encountered the capitan——’’

“T did not know about the capitan; and I guessed you

+9

were in trouble, because of the fires and th€running o

ponies, and because I knew you had come into the cafion

and escaped the trap.”

The scout was still perplexed. While he was puzzling
over the situation, he pulled rein suddenly.

“Some one else ahead, Pedro,” he muttered.

“Another: friend; Fe came the reassuring
response. “Ride on.’

As they drew closer to the place where the scout had
heard the movements of a horse, a rider emerged duskily
from the gloom.

Sefior !’’

It was a woman’s voice, and the scout was amazed.

“Lasca!’” he exclaimed.
“Se, amigo, it is Lasca:

You are safe. It was a bold

 

 
   

 

   

 

  
   

game Pedro played. We knew you were in trouble, and
when he. joined those who were going up the cafion, I
staid behind, wondering what would happen. Brave,
Pedro {’

<aAte ye pards herer queried the scout, his bewilder-
oa increasing.

“No, sefior; I came alone, hoping to overtake you be-
fore you reached the cafion. But we'll ride toward
safety while we talk.” : 9

Side by side the three horses moved “down the cafion,
the girl and the Apache holding their animals back to
keep pace with the heavily burdened Bear Paw.

. The girl explained.

“T told you,” said she, “I had friends among the
Apaches. One of these was Pedro, who rides with us,
and who has done so much for you this night. Pedro
has been coming to Adobe Wells, and reporting to me
the important things that went on among the Apaches.
He came to-night, sefior, just after you had left the
house.”

Then she followed with an account of what had since
happened. :

“While we were riding up the cafion,’ she finished,
‘we saw fires and heard yells. We knew then that you
were coming back. Some Indians who had left the
cafion to look for your pards rode up on us. I got out
of sight, and Pedro talked with them. Pedro said-the
capitan had left the cafion with Pa-e-has-ka a prisoner,
and that his word was for all to go up the gulch and look
for Pa-e-has-ka’s compadres on the rim. He did this to
save me, and steered the Apaches toward you; then, at
the gully, you must have heard how his wits saved the
day.” :

“This is good work, Lasca!” declared the scout.

“You have done much for me, sefior,’ answered the
eirl,
“T have done a little more than you think, Lasca,” and
the scout unhooked the jingling bag from his saddle
horn, and passed it to the girl.

“What is this?’ she asked, as she took the bag.

“Tam not sure, but it sounds like there was money in
the bag; and, if it’s money, more than likely it’s your
gold. *I took a chance on it, anyhow.”

“But how did you get it?”

Briefly, the scout told her: He had hardly finished
before the yells and beating hoofs were heard behind
them.

“The Apache brothers are coming!” muttered Pedro.

“We'll have to go faster!” exclaimed the girl. “Throw
your prisoner from your horse, sefior! We cannot es-
cape if you carry him.” :

“Then [ll not escape,’ returned the scout grimly.
“Tve endangered my neck for this scoundrel more than
once to- -night, and I’ll keep it up until I land him in a
safe place. That's why my pards and I came to the

  

TEE BUPFALO

_ when necessary,’ shouted Wild Bill.

Ib SPORES. 25

hills, and I can’t turn my back on a piece af werk that’ S
all but finished !”

The scout’s resolution could not be shaken. Bear Pay
did his best, but his best, under the circumstances, was
not equal to the best of the Apache cayuses.

“They’re gaining!” cried the girl.

“Let your horses out, you and Pedro, and get away,”
urged the scout. “You can escape, and——’’

“But you?” broke in the girl,

“Tl get under the wall and trust. to luck that the
Apaches will pass me in following you. Then——”

They were close to the mouth of the cafion by then.
Two or three rifles cranged their murderous music, and
leaden slugs hissed by.

A stentorian shout took up the echoes—a hous that
came from the cafion entrance. oe

“Whoop-ya! Hyar come ther pizen varmints! Ever’-
body say howdy to ’em with his hardware! Klat-a-way,
klat-a-way.!”

“Nigk!” roared the scout.
your pard ahead, here!”

Then followed a rush of hoofs and a bedlam of yale.
A body of horsemen, numbering many more than the
scout’s pards, swept toward the fleeing riders.

“Hold your fire, man! It’s

 

CHAPTER XV.
THE RUNNING FIGHT.

A cry arose from Pedro Apache.

“Don’t slay my brothers, Americanos!’

*It was in Apache, but Lasca quickly took it up, and
repeated it in English.

The Americans were rushing at the Apaches with hos-
tile intentions, and it remained for the scout’s authority
to make the wishes of Pedro respected. ;

“The Apaches are misguided,” called the scout, “and,
now we are Safe, they a be spared. Hold your fre,
amigos!”

“We're not so tarnal safe as we mout be!” coated old
Nomad.

“We'll make v a rear-guard action and shoot oat,
“Ride on, Pard
Cody! I can’t see what you’ve got on your horse, but
it’s plain he’s got a load. We'll drop in behind and
guard the rear.” |

For half the distance that separated the mouth of the
cafion from Adobe Wells there was a brisk running fight.
But it was all a waste of ammunition. The white men
shot at random, and the darkness kept the Apaches from
making the most of their opportunity.

After a while, the redskins drew off, clearly thinking”

it best not to carry the skirmish too near the military
road that led to Fort Grant.

“Them fellers hey got a hoss belongin’ ter me,’’ said ¢

Mihai!

 

as A am SRO a i i air rea

     
     
LAS OER EERE TELE TIN SELENITE ITY ETE TS PPLE LOLS ISI AE ETD ETE ETS

 

 

 

26
hoarse voice, as the men forming the rear guard rode in
on Buffalo Bill, Pedro, and Lasca.

“Who are these men, Nick?” the scout asked.
did you pick them up?”

“Picked ’em up at Adobe Wells, er, rather, they picked
us up. The feller as jest tooted his bazoo is named
Prouty. The one on t’other side 0’ ye is Jed Henderson,
deperty sher’ff. The rest aire members 0’ the possey.”

“Posse?”

“Shore, Buffer. Ther possey thet’s been tryin’ ter
help Prouty git back his hoss. The hoss was stole by
Taranch McBride, an’ Prouty, Henderson, an’ the rest
was follerin’ the thief.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the scout, “then Taranch stole a
horse, after we set him free, and hiked into the hills?”

“By gorry, pard,’ spoke up Wild Bill, “he did more’n
that. Taranch laid a traip for you in the cafion. ;Didn’t
you run into it?”

“I ran into the trap, all right, but I didn’t charge it
up to Taranch. Are you sure he was the one?”
' “Yhar ain’t no doubt erbout et, Buffler! Ther pinen

thief hustled fer the cafion as soon as he could git out o’

town.”

“Where did you get all this information ?
dnd Henderson bring it?”

“Vell, no, I bed you! struck in the baron. “It vas dot
‘plack mascot feller dot prought it.. Say, he iss all righdt,
I reckon, efen oof he does vear sooch clothes.’’;

“Where

Did Prouty

“You don’t mean to say that Uncle Gus brought the
‘news about Taranch to Adobe Wells?” queried the scout.
“That’s the way of it, pard,” replied Wild Bill. “It
was Uncle Gus, high hat and all.”’ ‘
“Where did he hear about it? By prognosticating ?”
_. “Nary,” chipped in the trapper, “he got it straighter’n
thet, Buffler.. San Toy, ther chink thet stole from ther
mail, told Uncle Gus, arter us fellers had pulled out of
Solomonsville. Accordin’ ter what ther mascot says,
when Taranch left the hotel he laid er bee line fer San
Toy’s. laundry -establishment, stole a gun from thar an’
some Mexican dollars, give San a tip as ter what he was
goin’ ter do in the hills, then went ter Prouty’s c’ral,
lifted the hoss, an’ breezed away. :
“San Toy*went ter the hotel ter find you an’ tell what
he knowed, but he on’y found Uncle Gus. Uncle Gus,
although he’s blacker’n the ace 0’ spades, shore acted
plum’ white. Jim, the hotel clerk, give him er hoss, an’
he rode ter ‘Dobe Wells, pickin’ up Prouty, Henderson,
an’ the rest on ther way. When they got ter the wells,
with er yarn thet brought us all up standin’, you was
gone, the gal was gone, an’ us fellers was some hot an’
hosstyle. All we thort of was fireworks, so we put right
‘out, leavin’ Uncle Gus ter keep house with ole Gonzales.”
The scout listened to this in amazement.
rhen,” said Wild Bill, “we rode like sin for the
cafion, and we hadn’t no more than got there before we

FF Reem on Rare os Be BPE pa RD iat akc wt ae es hw

“THE BUFFALO

- feller, afder dis.”

a I aS I AO a se i SN pu tn nN

= RE Re ay os ee nae See TER eT Mn ene eens
Saannak ape ic Danese a tes ca aacnee semney RSE, Soca NRE OT eta aoe 2 toa areas, ee mint

BILL STORIES.

 

knew something was up. Our part in the fracas was
short and sweet, but I reckon we did some good.”

Pedro drew his pony toa halt.

“‘Pa-e-has-ka,” said he, “I am going back to my people.
They need me. JI shall counsel them to return to the
reservation. I have counseled them so, all the time, but
now they will listen to me. I will come to Adobe Wells
by next sun and tell you what has happened.”

“Pedro,” returned the scout, “I hate to see you go
back. Your people may be hostile toward you, and per-
haps they’ll make u impossible for you to come to the
wells by next sun.’

“Now that Time-o’- -day is gone, they will be friends
with me,” declared Pedro confidently.

The talk was in Spanish, but it was understood by all
the white men.

“If you think it best, Pedro,” said Lasca, “go

Without another word, Pedro whirled his pony, and
was quickly swallowed up in the night.

“T wisht I was goin’ back with him ter git a crack at
that thar Taranch,”: growled old Nomad.

(There 1S mo. use,” senior,” returned’ Lasca. «7 The
Apaches” themselves have slain Taranch McBride. He
promised them the totem if they caught Buffalo Bill in
the mouth of the cafion. Buffalo Bill got away, and he
did not have the totem; so Time-o’-day worked his will
with Taranch.”

93

This untimely fate of the desert prowler epitened the
comments regarding his lawless deeds..

“An’ ye’ve got ther ole Cut-an’-slash feller hisself, hey,
Buffler?” jubilated old Nomad. “Ye went ter the cafion
scoutin’, an’ tellin’ yore pards ye'd lay the wires fer a .
erand allymand-left in the mornin’, an’ lo an’ behold! ye
cop ther hull blame’ bizness: ercalh. However was et
done ?”. oa

“Tt never would have been done without the help of
you men,” answered the scout, “or without Lasca and
Pedro. I had a tough row to hoe, and luck had to be
fought for every foot of the way.”

“Uncle Gus made a hard fight for luck, all right,”
said Wild Bill. ‘He sure did ‘his little - best. When
you're passing around credit slips, Pard Cody, don't
overlook your official mascot.” ’ :

“Dot’s der talk!’ cried the baron heartily. “I vas al-
most ashamed mit meinseluf dot I hat anyding to do mit
dot goat, yah, so. I vill be some friends mit der plack

“Black warrior heap fine,”
his voice for the first time.

No, ‘iriends,” declared: the ‘scout, “Vi not neglect
Uncle Gus in the summing up. He'll get all me aoe
that’s due him.”

“But what did ye do, Buffler ?” demanded old Nomad.

The scout not only told them what he had done briefly

put in Little Cayuse, finding

Ss

%
1 et

 

 

 
 

 

: *
TAT FART ON Magee: et

 

EET tA ee OT eae eo eee ae

 

and with the fewest possible words, but he likewise went
into details concerning what Lasca and Pedro had done.

“By gorry,” muttered Wild Bill, “IT had a ‘notion that
~ Lasca had\slipped away from the house to make trouble
for us. Nomad and I were fighting with high, low, jack,
and the game, and it was some sort of a while before we
noticed that the girl was gone. Then we got to imagin-

ing things—you know how—auntil Uncle Gus rds up -

‘with Prouty and the rest.”
“That'is what I would have expected of Sefior Cody's
pards,” said the Mexicana icily.

“She’s rubbin’ et in, as per usual,” growled Nomad.
“Ft’s some s’prisin’ she don’t take no stock in any o
this combination but Buffler. Ef she was better ac-
evamed with _us, ence hev more confidence in us, I
reckon.”

To all of which Lasca deigned no comments.
as she was, and could not change.

She was

“Here I was planning on several days of work in
these hills,’ observed the Laramie man, “and now Pard
Cody winds up the whole game in one, two, three style.’

“And we're done with these hills for a good long
time,” said the king of scouts. “This must be the finish-
ing blow to these renegade Apaches. First, we took Bos-
ton Pete away from them, then we took Sangamon
Charlie, and now we’ve pulled the fangs of Time-o’-day.”

“T’ll bet he feels like six o’clock erbout now,’ muttered
the trapper.

“For vy shouldt he feel like dot?” inquired the baron.

“Time ter shut up shop an’ go whar he berlongs,” ex-
plained old Nomad.

“Vell, I bed fou,” chuckled the baron.

The party had reached the rim of the basin. There

was a light still shining through the windows of the”

adobe cabin, and it was with a feeling of elation that they
descended the slope and spurred toward the house.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
ASK PA-E-HAS-KA TO FORGIVE.

No trouble was expected from the Apaches during the
night, and’ no trouble developed. After the dust of re-
cent events had settled, on the following morning, stock
was taken of the situation.

Lasca found that all the “oro dinero” taken from her
and Gonzales was in the bag, excepting one piece to the
amount of twenty pesos. This was the coin Taranch
McBride, of ill-fated memory, had held out on Time-
o’-day in the gully—a coin that had later fallen into the

hands of San Toy, and later into the hands of Buffalo

Bill. The scout was glad to be able to return it to the
girl and thus make their little treasure complete.

“You will go away from this troublous section for all
time now, Lasca?” asked the scout.

i:

mt Se abe eer remain a oi Fie Net hte ge
ap anh) Ci kd iY a al Hah:

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

ice Sia bestia Prices a hin in ay ew Ci rst ei Pac Am ctamintins Piper th ter AT Ake eat Ate am: i en A My Seana

fk saa Re SECON NR, OEE

27

“Si sefior,” the girl answered. “We will go at once.”

“What will you do with this place at Adobe Wells?”

“We already had it sold. A Mexican was to take
charge. He was to meet us at Huachuca, on the border,
and pay over the price. But it was on the way to
Huachuca that the gold was taken from us,-so we had to
come back to the wells ourselves. Now we can go on
with our plans, sefior—thanks to you.”

“No thanks to me, Lasca,” returned the scout hastily.
“T owe more to you than you do to me, far and away.”

—
sls Sh gn ii Ali Nera oasaldartaiainaretaslte pene Lb) Te

The Mexicana’s eyes brightened a moment, then faded _

into a look that was half sadness, half determination.
Pedro came into the basin shortly after sunrise.
rode his own horse, and was leading Prouty’s.

He

“Thunder and all sashay!” exclaimed Prouty, when
Pedro placed the rope hackamore in his hand. “This
hyar is er surprise party, an’ no mistake.”

“The caballo is yours, sefior,’ said Pedro, “and it is
the wish of the Apache brothers that you get him back
without trouble. So I have brought him.”

“How do the Apache brothers feel, Pedro?” inquired
the scout.

“They are thinking wise thoughts, sefior,’ Pedro re-
plied. “They ask Pa-e-has-ka to forgive them for what
they have done, but they believed that Time-o’-day was
to get the totem and become their leader!’

“Pedro,” said the scout,
it make you their leader °”

AN

“And what would you do if the Apache Hethers made
you their chief?”

“T would see that they always staid on their reserva-
tion, sefior,” answered the young Apache.

“if you had the totem, would

“He speaks with a straight tongue, Pa-e-has-ka,”
spoke up Lasca. “If he says he would do that, he
would.”

“I’m going to give him a chance to prove his words,
then,” said the scout.

Going over to the place where he had dropped ts
war bag, he opened it,-and took out—the skull of Nar-
bona, the so-called totem that had kept\ the lawless
Apaches by the ears for many moons.

“You had that with you all the time?” asked Lasca.

“Not last night,” the scout answered. “When I went
scouting, I was stripped for action, and the war bag was
lett Rete,”

He handed the totem to Bedio.

“There you are, amigo,” said he. “Nothing else could
prove my.confidence in you.” . s

The eyes of the Apache glimmered as he took the skull
and gazed at it.

“Mucho, mucho trouble has it made for my people,”
said he, “but now it will make no more. The Apache
brothers are riding for the reservation now, and I am to

&

 
; a Pee
See eae ing se oR

 

Pes See eee eee a eter a
Reem

as is nahi eine ethan.

28 THE BUFFALO

overtake them on the way. In two suns we will be in
our right place, and there we shall stay.”

He leaped to the back of his cayuse.

“Taranch, the white thief, has been covered with
earth,” he paused to say, “and will trouble neither the
Americanos nor the Apache brothers any more. Adios!”

“Adios” they all called, and Pedro Apache, galloped
off to rejoin his people on their journey home.

Toward noon, a detachment sent by Colonel Osborne
stopped at Adobe Wells. Accounts of what had hap-
pened had reached the fort, and the troopers had been
sent out at once to get at the truth of the rumors.

Lieutenant Wheelwright was in charge of the detach-
ment, and his orders were to locate Buffalo Bill and get
his information direct from “‘headquarters.”

The scout gave him a full report, and the lieutenant
offered his congratulations, He also presented the scout
with a personal letter from the colonel. That letter was
something of a surprise, and ran as follows:

“Dear Copy: Dve been thinking over that kettle trick,
and I’ve come to the conclusion that Uncle Gus is a won-
der. I need somebody to root for me, and take care of
my clothes, and do other odd jobs around quarters for
which a trooper is not particularly fitted, and if the old
fellow will come I'll see to it that .he gets a salary that
will keep him in all the plug hats and frock coats he'll
ever want to wear: Put it up to him, will you? If pos-
sible, let him come back with Wheelwright and his de-
tachment. Yours truly, OSBORNE.”

The scout carried the letter to. Uncle Gus. The old
darky, still bruised and sore, was keeping close to a
rocking-chair in the house.

“Uncle Gus,” said the scout, “you’ve just been ten-
dered one of the biggest marks of appreciation that could
come to anybody. I’m proud to think that you are so
highly thought of! I am, for a fact.”

Uncle Gus stirred himself, cleared his throat, and be- |

gan to look important.

' “Marse Cody, sah,” said he, “Ah’s proud tuh heah yo’
speak ob me in dem eloquential terms, yassuh. But
whut’s hit about?”

“Colonel Osborne, commander at Fort Grant, is very
much in need of your services, Uncle Gus, and, sorry as
IT am to lose you, I feel it my patriotic duty to pass over
my official mascot to this high representative of our gov-
ernment.”

Uncle Gus’ enthusiasm went down a notch, at that; but
when the scout read the letter to him he brightened
again. The mention of salary, and high hats, and frock
coats caught the old darky in a weak spot.

“Ts yo’ sho’, Marse Cody,” he quavered,
kin scramble on wifout yo’ ‘ficial mascot?’

“Itll be a hard struggle, Uncle Gus,” answered the
scout solemnly, “but I feel it a duty to-accede to the
colonel’s request.”

“dat yo’ all

 

eS Oe ae ntaet teE REA ah see

BILL) STORIES.

“Den, Ah reckons, Ah’ll jine de army. Dey needs a
hull lot ob mascottin’. De kunnel is some high an’
mighty, en Ah reckons we'll jess erbout hitch. Ah kin
look afteh his clothes, en do mah mascottin’ on de side.
Ah won’t hab tuh gib all mah time to hit, lak when Ah
was wo'kin’ fo’ yo’. Hit’s mouty strenubous mascottin’
fo’ Marse Cody en pa’ds, kase dey’s allus hittin’ de
trouble line an’ hollerin’ fo’ luck; but wif de kunnel, now,
Ah reckons Ah kin hab mo’ time tuh myse’f. En Ah’s

¢
gittin’ ole,” he muttered, “en Ah’s gotter look fo’ easy |

Ain’t dat right?”
“Exactly right!” agreed the scout.
“En yo’ won’t feel down bekase Ah’s quittin’ yuh?”

“Tl try to bear up, Uncle Gus.”

places.

“Vo’s de bestest man, Marse Cody, whut Ah evah mas-
cotted fo’! Da’s right.”

So, when the lieutenant rode away with his troop, and
with Time-o’-day on a led horse, Uncle Gus rode with
him. The old negro was richer by a hundred dollars in
cash than when he first met Buffalo Bill. He was de-
lighted. The baron shook the old negro’s hand at the

“parting, and they separated with the most amicable senti-

ments.

“There goes the finest old fraud that ever stepped,”
declared Wild Bill, as he and the scout and the rest of
the pards watched the detachment climb the rim of the
basin. “There’s more fun in him, to the square inch,
than in a cage of monkeys, It’s almost like losing one
of the family to see the old humbug go.”

“So id vas, so id vas,” snuffled the baron.

“Tl bet a ten-case note agin’ a chink was’ ticket thet
we see him ag’in,” declared old Nomad.

“T. don’t think so, Nick,’ answered the scout. “I be-
lieve, in his heart, Uncle Gus has had enough of this
combination.”

“How's thet ?”’

“Why, this last job of mascotting was such a eae ;

fight for luck that it was too much like work,” laughed
the scout. “Uncle Gus don’t like work any too well, and,
besides, he’s getting old. Good luck go with him!”

And soa said they all.

THE END.

The next story will take you right into the laughter,
bright color, music, and gayety of the famous carnival
at Phenix, Arizona. Buffalo Bill will be there, along
with Wild Bill Hickok, and, of course, the. Baron Von
Schnitzenhauser; what would such an occasion for fun
be without the baron? But, with all the merriment, there

“is some pretty serious business that demands the great
scout’s attention, and that is the story—a strong, quick-'

moving one; the sort you always enjoy reading. The
title is, “Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta Night; or, At Outs With
the Baker’s Dozen.” Out next week in No. 468.

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 
   

THE: BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, April 23, 1910.

 

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Georcge Cy Smitx, tp roprietors.

 

 

TALE OF A SNEAK CAT.

bay liked him, and when it leaked out at the post

that he could see a dollar a mile away and would

walk backward or tumble over everything to reach

it, the men frowned. \He was a surly little black-whiskered

man, and lived in a lonely shack far up the French River—
this Lomass.

When Andy Ferrier found the door of his shed broken

N° a single trapper along the whole river or up the

open one morning not long before Christmas, and some

brand-new. otter traps, a good canthook, a new axe, and a
quantity of ammunition missing, he lost his temper, and
wasted the best part of a day following a difficult trail
through the tamarack swamp. It only led to Lomass’ shack,
and he might have known that the woods thereabouts con-
tained but one ‘“‘sneak-cat’ on two legs. There are gen-
erally reasons for things, and in this particular instance
there was one big reason which Andy Ferrier and _ his
brother Fletch knew about.

The ice had been so smooth and windswept all winter
that most of the trappers had skated down to the fur-
trading stations along the Georgian Bay, dragging their pelts
on pack sleds over the ice. When the Ferrier boys built
the iceboat, however, and beat the time record down to half,
the men became interested in the offer of carrying their
skins for a small fee. The journeys to the post were long,

toilsome even for the best skaters, and often fraught with

danger, so that after Chris Hoskins took the lead and al-
lowed the Ferriers to carry his pelts, it was not long before
the young men had worked up quite a custom.

Lomass never had many skins of his own, and had been
carrying any extra packs he could pick up on the trip,
being paid a small commission for the service; but since the
iceboat monopolized patrons, his long trips to the bay had
been bringing very small returns.

The day before Christmas the Ferriers found it neces-
sary to make a trip to the post for provisions. On the ad-
vice of Chris Hoskins, they had decided to keep the theft
quiet and await developments. The offence was of the
“high-sass” order, and indignation would run riot for miles
around if the men heard it; Lomass would not be safe.

Hoskins was making some new steel traps over a fire
of hemlock and spruce, when he heard a shrill whistle
and saw the iceboat hearing up the inlet to where his
shanty stood.

ey

“Hello! boys;’ he called out. “Reckon ‘you'll not be
scufflin’ along much this mornin’ with sech a wind.”
“Tis rather. slow,” agreed Andy; “but it’s on the in-
crease.”

Hoskins sniffed the air.

“IT ‘low it’s comin’ on to snow “fore night—reg’lar bliz.”

“So much the better; we'll come home full tilt,” cried
Andy. “Cold ’nough las’ night, you bet; it’s made a few
cracks in the ice. Over on the Big Pond there’s one with
about a dozen feet split.”.

“Yes, an’ what d’you think, Chris?” Fletch interposed,
“the ninny was wonderin’ if the Sprite could jump it.”

“So she could in a stiff wind,’ retorted Andy, while

the trapper laughed a big, silent laugh.

“Seed any bobcats lately?’ he asked.

‘Nary. a ‘one!’

“J heerd ’em screechin’ last cupple nights over’n the
swainp. An’ say, boys, the wolves is gittin’ mighty oneasy
in this here cold snap; reckon ye better be a-kinder keer-
ful. Jerry Humphreys sayed as he seed seven tracks other
day,, all. at oncet.”’

“Bah!” Andy laughed aloud. “Why, there ain’t a wolf in
the timber could keep the Sprite in sight for a mile,” he
scoffed.

“Ye’re too sartin sure o’ that there blame rigamajig,”
said Hoskins doubtfully. “I ‘low yell git ketched when
ye ain’t a calklatin’ on’t one o’ these times. There ain’t
many critters fer ye to tote this mornin’,” he added, “but
I'll git ye them theré is.” i

He went into the shanty and presently came out with
a pack of pelts. %

“We're all expectin’ you over to dinner to-morrow, Chris.
You're comin’, of course?’

“Thank ye, boys. I was ‘lowin’ I would.” The iceboat
was moving away. ‘‘Reckon Lomass ain’t been askin’ ye to
forgive him for his sass yet?’ Fletch shook his head and
Andy’s face darkened. “Don’t ye go worryin’ ower that
measley sneak—he ain’t wurth it. He’s a thoroughbred
skunk !”

This last was shouted out, for the Sprite was gathering
headway, and an echo flung the word, “skunk” through the
EDees,

About three o’clock in the afternoon the Ferriers reached

the mouth of the river and were coasting among the islands

along the bay shore when Fletch caught sight of. a man
with an empty pack sled just rounding an islet opposite the
tiver. He was too far away to be definitely recognized,
but the figure was certainly that of Lomass.

By the time the iceboat had been unloaded and repacked
with provisions night was closing in. It got dark very
quickly, and no trained eye was needed to note the sign
of an approaching storm. The men from along the .bay
who had come to the Post, and whose shanties were at any
distance, were not long in deciding to remain over night,
and when it became known that the young men were bent
on setting out for home there was a murmur of dissent.

62

“T reckon ye better not try fer it,” Jerry Humphreys -

whispered, after calling Andy aside. “There’s snow in
that sky an’ as

“Tah! man, we'll be home before the storm breaks; the
wind couldn’t be better.”

“Ye’ll smash to smithereens iff the dark an’ there’s wolves
about, for I seen ’em,”

But Andy shrugged a shoulder and proceeded to over-
haul the sail ropes. Twenty minutes later the Post build-
ings were rapidly fading out in the gloom as the iceboat
sped away into the night.

The wind moaned through the forest and swept along
the river with increasing force. At the end of two hours
it was blowing half a gale and the Sprite was obliged to
hug the lee of the river and the islands. ©.

It was altogether too dark to discern objects at any
great distance, and though Andy knew every turn of the

 

 

 
 

 

ee | THE BUFFALO

river, there was the constant danger of running ia a snag, f

while away out in the centre the mad rush of the wind
Was even more to be feared. It was bitterly cold, and the
young men snuggled down among the furs béside ‘the tiller
and drew their heavy caps close over their ears. They were
traveling at a great rate, with the white rime streaming
away from the i iron heels of the runners, which were send-
ing out a low, singing hum,

Suddenly Fletch uttered a cry and jerked back, as a low,
black object seemed to whiz by on the ice, scarcely a foot
away.

Andy glanced quickly over his shoulder just in time to
recognize it before the darkness swallowed it up.
“Tf we'd hit that los——” Fletch gasped. -

“That was no log!” cried his brother excitedly.
something’s happened to Lomass.” ,
 “Lomass !”
4 “That was his sled Vy
i “Why, what

But Andy was-listening to a faint noise far ahead,
. scarcely to be distinguished above the roaring draught of
the wind and the drone of the runners. Soon it grew
louder and the young men looked quickly at each other.

“It’s wolves!’ cried Fletch.

- Andy nodded as the iceboat sped around a turn in the
river. They were just entering the Big Pond, where the
river widened out into a long lake.

With a sudden ejaculation Andy peered into the gloom
ahead. He could make out.a low, dafk shadow skimming
along close to the ice. Far in advance, a lone figure was
dashing wildly on, and the frantic ring of skates on the ice
sounded clear and distinct.

Andy had been keeping the iceboat inshore, but now he
shifted the helm and they shot out into the full blast of
the gale. The Sprite was sailing close to the wind, and
she careened and shivered, and fairly flew. Fletch glanced
in alarm at his brother, whose white face had set with a
grim determination.

“What—— .

“Shut up!”

All at once the low shadow swerved sharply to “ihe
right and an involuntary cry broke from Andy’s lips.

 

~~

““We’ve got to save him, Fletch!” he shouted above the |

whistling of the wind in ‘the ropes, and threw the helm
over a point to the left. Their speed was awful.

“The crack!
other by the shoulder.

But Andy deliberately shifted their course another point
.to the left, so that they would meet the ten-foot opening
in. the ice head on. They were flying at an appalling rate,
and there was no time now to avoid the crevice. If they
would save the man their only chance lay in crossing it.
and reaching him in advance of the howling pack.

“Hang on!”

There was a wild leap into space, and the whole fabric
trembled with the shock as the iceboat struck the opposite
side. The steering runner chipped the edge, then the boat
pitched forward with a thud on to the level surface be-
ue There was the sound of breaking wood, and the
white faces of the boys went whiter still as they thought
for a moment that a runnet was gone, Like some startled
wild thing the Sprite shudd&red in the wind, gave a sudden
lurch, and scooted away.

2

The wolves were coming swiftly back into the course,

but they were ahead of them now. Fletch seized his Mar-
tini and scattered several shots among the animals while
the iceboat was rapidly bearing up to the figure ahead.

At sound of the rifle, Lomass had turned and his failing
hopes revived. Dowm swept the Sprite and Andy shout-
ing to him as she hummed past. Intuitively divining the
helmsman’s meaning, the trapper skated around an island
just as the iceboat luffed sharply into the wind.

“Quick, man!’ shouted andy

“Fletch, _

drift.

The crack!” screamed Fletch, seizing the.

BILL SFORIES:

The sail was snapping and threatening every instant to
rip to shreds, but before the boat’s headway was altogether
checked, Lomass had skated alongside and dropped upen
the boards in a state of exhaustion.

There was not a moment to spare, for the wolves were
again in headlong pursuit. The helm was thrown hard

over and the Sprite fell off on another tack—faster and |

faster until she was spinning, Fletch used his repeater to
good purpose, but held the pack in check for a moment
only. The taste of blood had maddened them, but no wolf
could keep pace with the iceboat in that wind, and, once
she had gathered headway, the danger was over. The
howls dropped: farther and farther to the rear as the miles

slipped by, and soon all sound of the animals was lost in-

the distance.
Lomass lay like a.log where he had first thrown himeele
until they were running up an inlet near his shack.
“We'll drop you off at the Point,” said Andy.

But Lomass gave no sign that he heard. When the ice-

boat came to a stop in the lee of the Point, he roused him-
self as from a dream, got to his feet, and, without a word,
skated away, fading into the night like a shadow.

“Well, of all the things you ever heard tell!’ cried Fletch,
in amazement. “Not even a ‘thank you’!”

Andy laughed harshly as they headed for home.

Through the whole night the storm ramped, and raged,
and swept across the country. Christmas morning broke
clear and cold upon a world of snow that lay in great drifts
of diamond sparkles beneath the sun.

Chris Hoskins was slowly breaking a path across a small
bay, opposite the Ferriers’ place. The thongs that bound
his snowshoes to his mocassins squeaked at every stride,
and he was whistling for very joy of being alive. He
stopped short.

It was the end of an old toboggan sticking up out of a
Hoskins took off one of his racquettes and scraped
away the snow, slowly at first; but soon he was digging
with all his might. Then there came to light a battered
toboggan on which were lashed some traps, a canthook, an
axe, and a package of ammunition.

It was Andy Ferrier’s stolen property—stolen by the
sneak-cat.

FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY FOE.
A PROSPECTOR’S life in North America has in it

endless possibilities in the way of adventure, and
only a small proportion of their experiences find
' their way into print.

“Our prospector,’ as we call Hank Elmore, who spends
his winters at our.Wyoming horse ranch, has met, in his
camps and tramps, with a number of encounters which are
welt worth describing.

Perhaps I should explain that we have “grub-staked”
Hank for a number of years, and so share in the profits of
his finds, which have not. yet much more: than paid ex-
penses. They consist of a minor silver lode in the Uintah
Mountains and a “topbed” of fairly good coal within reach
of the Union Pacific Railroad. But Hank is young and
learning the business, and we have good hope of his ‘finds
in future.

It was when Hank was prospecting in the Uintah Moun-

tains that he met with the curious adventure of the boiler.
Among those rough-and-tumble mountains he was encamped,
with a pair of blankets for his bed, a skillet, coffeepot, and
horse-hide grub sack for his kitchen, when, in prospecting
a small but rapid stream, he stumbled upon the site of an
old Mormon sawmill.

This had been burned, probably by Indians, and all its
machinery broken or carried off, except a huge, old-fash-
ioned, flueless steam boiler. Nearly half buried in débris,
this rusty but stout old structure had withstood fire and

  

 

 

y
}
 

q

 

 

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

storm, and lay intact, save for several small holes where
pipe connections orf steam cocks had been broken off.

Hank rejoiced in this discovery, for the boiler offered
him shelter from storms and from the frequent chilly nights
of a high altitude. The gasket, as big as a washtub, which
fitted into the manhole, was already thrust halfway in, but
was so rusted to its plates that it required an hour:or two
of picking, prying, and punching to loosen it. When it
finally dropped inside, however, Hank crawled in, to find a
dry and warm room which would suit his purpose quite as
well as a house made to order.

The prospector made no delay in fetching his camp ef-

fects and taking possession of this armored abode. When
he had covered one end of the boiler bottom with feathery
boughs of the pifion, he had an ideal camper’s night bivouac.
On cool nights he closed the manhole and on warm ones
left it open, and this big hole and the steam-pipe apertures
at the other end gave “him excellent ventilation.
s Dhe. site of..the “mill. was upon a creek flat, with pine-
covered mountains crowding the valley, and the only signs
of civilization for miles around were the burned and tum-
ble-down relics of the abandoned Mormon settlement. The
mountains were lively with big game; bears of several
varieties, “‘lioys,’ bobcats, and mountain-sheep were espe-
cially abundant. Doubtless the bears and big cats were ac-
customed to the smell of iron, and the rusty boiler must
have been a familiar sight to many of them. Thus came
about Hank’s perilous adventure.

As he lay sound asleep one warm night in August, a
roach-backed silvertip came down to the boiler, and, smell-
ing Hank’s fragrant bacon, cut for an early morning meal,
discovered the open manhole, and made. haste to tumble
inside.

Thump! thump! he dropped some three feet upon the
boiler bottom. This clang and clatter brought Hank to
a sitting posture with eyes wide open. The ‘conical room
was dark as a pocket in a mine, save for a faint twinkle

of stars at the manhole, which faead a cleft in the moun-

A puffing breath or two, a gruff sniff-sniff sounded
and then a dark object rose
Bobeat, “lion,” or what not,

tains: | uth
in the man’s astonished ears;
and blotted out the stars.

some beast had certainly entered his domicile.

“Yee ough!” yelled Hank, hoping to scare the creatufe
out. He was answered by a rasping “Whoof!” of sur-
prise, and instantly understood the character of his visitor.
As quickly as possible he scratched a slow match, and put
firelight between himself and the dangerous prowler.

A snarl of surprise, mingled with fright, greeted this ac-
tion, and the prospector found himself looking into the sav-
agely twinkling eyes of a good-sized grizzly. The -bear
crouched, slinking back ander the manhole and showing his
teeth while he growled fierce threats which made the boiler
resound.

Evidently the animal was afraid of the light, and was
equally reluctant to turn its back in scrambling out. Hank’s
match went out; he struck another hastily:and at the same
time shouted at the bear.

And now bear and man vied with each other in noisy
threats, which roared in the. boiler until its rusty mail jan-
gled. Crouching close under the manhole, the bear, snarl-
ing frightfully, stood with one big paw uplifted sidewise,
ready to crush the fire f0e: when it should approach near
enough.

Seeing that he could not oni the grizzly away, an
not having matches enough to burn all night, Hank deter-
mined to see what he could do with the six-shooter, which
he had already drawn.

He scratched a fresh match, held its light above his head,

and sighted carefully, aiming to hit the bear as near to one ‘

twinkling eye as possible.

The report of the pistol nearly made Hank deaf; but
having got. his. self- acting gem _.“a- going,” he pulled the
trigger. three. or four times in rapid succession,

PER That cet ath etek om te

BILL STORIES. 31

Words would be inadequate to describe the din in the
boiler. When its clangor had subsided, the prospector, en-
veloped in sulphur smoke, heard his unwelcome visitor:
scrambling out at the manhole.

Plainly the grizzly was very much alive. But it had
been hit, and hit hard, and once out in the open, it became
thoroughly enraged by its wounds. It raised a tremendous
racket; in fact, coming back after its first retreat to. vent
its fury upon the boiler, which it seemed to hold acccounta-
ble for its sufferings.

The grizzly hammered and battered with its great paws,
mauling at the boiler’s convex surface until it rang like
a big muffled drum, This was most unpleasant for Hank,
The crazy creature was likely to tumble into his quarters
again at any moment. He thought, of course, of closing the
manhole: but there was no way of fastening the oasket ts
and a thrust of the bear’s paw would put down the barrier.

Preferring to fight in,the open, the prospector made a
hasty and rather reckless exit from his smoke-filled. re-:
treat. Almost before he could regain his feet, the wounded:
grizzly was upon him. Hank met the bear with a_ shot,
delivered at half-arm’s length, but was whirled into dark-
ness by a sweeping stroke which cracked two of his ribs
and knocked the breath out of his body.

It was some time before he recovered consciousness, ‘and,
battered and bruised, was again able to get upon his legs.
He was alive, however, and with a hance to recover, for
good fortune had attended his last shot. The bear was
dead; he had appaTa dropped in*his tracks in the. very
act of delivering his! stroke.

Hank pulled himself together, and in a week or so’ was
back at work again. But after his adventure, when the
nights were too warm for endurance with the manhole
closed, he placed a big stone upon the gasket plate, so bal-
anced that it would tumble in should any large creature at-
tempt to enter. This bowlder was shoved in one night by
a prowling lynx, but it is hardly necessary to, add that. the
cat was frightened off by the din, and Hank admits that
he was quite as much startled and nearly as badly fright:
ened as when the grizzly rolled into his domicile.

me

HE WAS SO HEEDLESS.

A heedless young man who has not profited by the blun-
ders that his unguarded tongue has caused him to make, was
introduced at a reception to an elderly and somewhat pe-
culiar lady, whose hobby is the collecting of relics and
aoe of all kinds.

After a few minutes’ conversation the lady rose to de-
bark when young Mr: Heedless said in his airiest manner:

“I am so glad to have met you, Miss B TI have. al-
ways been interested in curiosities and antiquities of every
sort, and am ‘glad to have met you on that account.”

 

BABY DIDN’T BOUNCE.

“Ma,” ‘remarked the boy, “isn’t it: funny that everybody
calls little brother a bouncing -baby?”’

“Why do you think it’s funny, William?’ asked his
mother,

“Because when I dropped him. off the pees this morning
he didn’t bounce a bit; he just hollered.”

 

A SKULL TO SUIT.

At an exhibition of curiosities a skull was exhibited which
professed to be Oliver. Cromwell’s: A gentleman present
observed that it could not be Cromwell’s, as'he had a very
large head, and this was a small skull. na

“Oh, I know all. that,” said the. exhibitor, undisturbed;
“but, you see, this was his skull when he was a-boy.”  -

   

 
 

7 LATEST ISS

 

 

 

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The most popular publication for boys.
this weekly. High art colored covers.

718—F ee esgrell the Man of Grit; or, The Peril of Barney
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719—Frank Merriwell’s Return Blow; or, The Downfall of the
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g2z0—Frank Merriwell’s Quest; or, A Hard-won Victory.

g2i—Frank Merriwell’s Ingots; or, The Sunken Treasure of the
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y22—Frank Merriwell’s Assistance; or, The Land of Too Much
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726—Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Chance; or, The Rescue of
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727—Frank Merriwell’s Black Terror; or, The Mad Horse of
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or, Merry in His

 

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687—The aa Option; or, Nick Carter on a Puzzling
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yoo—Diamond Dick’s Golden Riddle; or, Trapping the Up-to-
date Crooks.

yei—Diamond Dick’s Keen Sight; or, The Mystery of the Set-
tlement.

Diamond Dick i isa
Price, 5 cents.

cee Dieibad Dick’s Forest Mystery; or, Through the Great
North Woods.

703—Diamond Dick’s Surprise Party; or, The Outlaws of Moun- —

tain Lake.
704—Diamond Dick’s Sparkling Signal;
Missing Necklace.

or, The Trail of ‘the

70§—Diamond Dick’s Game of Chance; or, Grappling with ie

Razorback Band.
706—Diamond Dick’s Convict Chase; or, The Mysterious Jail
Delivery.

For sale by all newond cre, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price,
Ҥ cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York

 

 

{F YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS 6).2imea trom this ofice direct’ Fill out the Sr ae 2

ts with the price of the Weeklies you want and we will send them to you by return mail.

POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY.

 

STREET & SMITH, 79- 89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.

*, Dear Sirs:

TIP TOP WEEKLY, «© ONS.

WICK CARTOR WEEALY, 000, Secnce ts 7

DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY, “

eeeeeteosoeeseseseeee e@eseeseenee

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Name....

- Enclosed please find.......s.s.s+« sg os

Cee uses oe Teer e eee e nese cece te eecneeees Sea tieers 190
eee cents for which send me:
BUFFALO BILL STORIES, Nos............... ntaesngoniaecenss
BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY,“ ................ os ee awe eee

cw RV OME Gece cae bi ecccrsscehesscces CUY icacecccrvesbicssasieeacns oo SEALE. ceccceccecs

 

' High ‘art colored

Three-Cornered

 

 

 

nia a i peli eter lao os ged eg gi cay oat rer rae oN 6 pe ea ore elem elo

 
 

 

 

 

 

 
 

BUFFALO BILL STORIES

BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS

 

 

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures
of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are. These stories have been read exclusively in this
weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.

Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to
know all there is to know about him. In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with
the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print. You can have your news-dealer
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in

 

 

 

money or postage-stamps.

243—Butffalo
244—Buffalo
245—Butffalo
247—Buffalo
250—Buffalo
251—-Buffalo
252—Buftalo
253—Buffalo
254—Buffalo
256—Buffalo
258—-Buffalo
261—Buffalo
263—Buffalo
264—Buffalo
265—Buffalo
266—Buffalo
267—Buffalo
269—-Buffalo

King

272—Buffalo
273—Buffalo
274—Buffalo
275—Buffalo
276—Buftfalo
278—Buffalo
280—Buffalo
283—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
287—Buffalo
288—Buffalo
289—Buffalo
290—Buffalo
292—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
303—Buffalo
304—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306—Buffalo
307—Buffalo
3808—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
310—Buffalo
311—Buffalo
312—Buffalo
314—Buffalo
315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
318—Buffalo
319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
322—Buffalo
324—Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329—Buffalo
330—Buffalo
331—Buffalo
332—Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buftalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
3838—Buftalo
339—Buffalo
340—Buffalo

Bill on Special Service......
Bill on a Treasure Hunt....
Bills: Lost Quarry es. to oes
Bill’s Stockade peee Ra A Were
Bill on a Long Hunt. eo
Bill’s Wyoming Trail.

Bill and the Redskin Wizard..
Bill’s Bold Challenge........
Bill’s Shawnee Stampede.....
Bill on a Desert Trail... ‘
Bill in Tight pe ogee st A
Bill’s Treasure Train.

Bill’s Border Beagles. . slits
Bill and the Bandits in "Black..
Bill and the Indian Tiger.
Bill on the Deadwood Trail. . -
Bill in the Cafion of Death.
Bill and the pane Ranch

Bill’s ‘Dusky ‘Trailers .

Bill’s Diamond Mine.

Bill and the Pawnee Serpent..
Bill’s Scarlet Hand

Bill Running the Gantlet....
Bills Daring Plunge. 3. ...:
Bills ;Ghosto Raid o. . r

Master-stroke........
Bill and the Brazos Terror...
Bil’s Dance of Death...... é
Bill and the Creeping Terror..
Bill and the Brand of Cain..
Bill’s Medicine-lodge....... A
Bild in sR Ort le tire 3p ok 825
Bill's Black Waglese ye. se
Bill’s Desperate Dozen......

CUOTOUSLOUOUON = OLOTOTOUOLOTONOTOUOTOTOT

5
5

OUOTOt

OV

Bill and the White Specter.. 5

Bill’s Death Defiance.......
Bill and the Barge Bandits. .
Bill, the Desert Hotspur....

Bill’s Wild Range Riders.... 5

Bills Whirlwind Chase......
Bill’s Red Retribution.......
Bill Haunted

iBiullis: Hight forsWife. oso... 5
Bill’s Death Jump..

Bill in the Jaws of Death.
Bill’s Aztec Runners.........
Bill’s Dance with Death.....
Bil seierye Wye. ee teed sre
Bill’s Mazeppa Ride. (60. :
Bills: Gypsy, Band \ 5. 58k
Bills: Mavericks, sccics 2... 8
Bill’s Gold Hunters.........
Bill in Old Mexico. 5
Bill’s Message from the “Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master.
Bill’s Flying Wonder.......
Bill's Hidden: Gold) 2)... 3%
Bill’s Outlaw Trail. :
Bill and the Indian Quéen.
Bill and the Mad Marauder.
Bulls ice. Barricade. 2s. sae:.
Bill and the Robber Elk....
Bills: GhostsDancer... sce:
Bill’s Peace-pipe Sretayc’s
Bill’s Red Nemesis..........
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bill’s Pay Streak.

5
5

 

841—Buffalo
342—Buffalo
343—Buffalo
344—Buffalo
3845—Buffalo
346—Buffalo
348—Buffalo
349—Buffalo
350—Buffalo
351—Buffalo
352—Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354—Buffalo
355—Buffalo
356—Buffalo

357—Buffalo.

358—Buffalo
359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
362—Buffalo
363—Buffalo
364—Buffalo
366—Buffalo
3867—Buffalo
368—Buffalo
369—Buffalo
370—Buffalo
371—Buffalo
372—Buffalo
373—Buffalo
374—Buffalo
3875—Buffalo
376—Buffalo
3877—Buffalo
378—Buftfalo
379—Buffalo
380—Buftfalo
381—Buffalo
382—Buffalo
383—Buffalo
384—Buffalo
385—Buftfalo
3886—Buffalo
3887—Buffalo
388—Buftfalo
389—Buffalo
390—Buffalo
391—Buffalo
892—Butftfalo
393—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buffalo
396—Buffalo
397—Buffalo
398—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Buffalo
401—Buffalo
402—Buffalo
403—Buffalo
404—Buffalo
405—Buffalo
406—Buffalo

Bill on Detached Duty..
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s

Army Mystery........
Surprise’ Party... .</...
Greate Ridesicy. cee. «
Water TDrathoo sess . -
Ordeal: of Wires: . <...-.:
Casket of Pearls......
Sky. SPiot res. oie:
Bill’s “Totem” ... B
Bill’s Flat-boat Drift. .
Billon=Deck? sce cues is
Bill and the Bronco Buster...
Bill’s Great Round-up.......
Bill's “Bledsoe eas oe
Bill’s Cowboy Pard...... laces
Bill and the Emigrants......
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s Four-footed Pards.....
Bills; Protege Fe ok ‘
Bill’s Pick-up.. BE atari ey cists
Bilge Quests ira Sa,
Bill’s Waif of the Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons...
Bills sAssistance. 5 ot .5.) 63s.
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail....
Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
Billis“StronecArm 61. per
Billis* Girl] Bard es eae
Bill’s Iron Bracelets.........
Bill's: Ranch: Riders. 23 23% 3.7...
Bill’s Jade Amulet..........
Bills: Maecic AMartat 2.2. 2. .
Bill’s ‘‘Paper-Talk’’ oie
Bill’s -Bridge of Fire........
Bill’s Bowie

Bill’s Pay-streak...

Bill’s Mine... Sue ee
Bills: Clean-Up es. weseiese ae
Bill’s Ruse

Bill Overboard

BIS SRAM Gi cay eee eas b

Bills Bie Contract ceo. «cs
Bill and Calamity Jane......
Bills: Wid Bards. 26 oc: series:
Bill’s Desperate Plight.......
Bill’s Fearless Stand........
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Billes: Guiding, Hand =o... se.
Bill’s Queer Quest..........
Bill’s Prize “Getaway”

Bill’s Hurricane Hustle...
Bills’: Star Blayirccet.c.ctein sete
Bill’s
Bills) CUPRA CKers ste. scic/eeteete oh
Bilbs Durch Rand <6. .nt
Bill and? the Bravonc oss Si.0e. 6
Bill and the Quaker.. ae
Bill’s Package of Death....
Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
Bill’s Private War. si

Bill and the Trouble Hunter..
Bill and the Rope Wizard.
Biles oe RVentane (eres os

SIME ie esrccevss ccs) sie tray ste sc

 

| 407—Buffalo

408—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—Buffalo
411—Buffalo
412—Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—Buffalo
415—Buffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Buffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Buffalo
420—Buffalo
421—-Buffalo
422—Buffalo
423—Buffalo
424—-Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
427—Buffalo
428—Buffalo
429—Buffalo
430—Buffalo
431—Buffalo
432—Buffalo
433—Buffalo
434—Buffalo
435—Buffalo
436—Buffalo
437—Buftfalo
438—Buffalo
439—Buffalo
440—Buffalo
441—Buffalo

‘442-—Buffalo

443—Buffalo
444—Buffalo
445—-Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Buftfalo
448—Buffalo
449—Buffalo
450—Buffalo

, 451—Buffalo
mosa.

452—Buffalo
453—Buffalo
454—Buffalo
455—Buffalo
456—Buftalo
457—Buffalo
458—Buffalo
459—Buffalo
460—Buffalo
461—Buffalo
462—Buftalo
463—Buffalo
464—Buffalo
465—Buffalo
466—Buftfalo
467—Buftfalo
468—Buffalo

Bill Among the Cheyennes...
Bill) Besteged’.: 2 ene
Bill and the Red Hand.......
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift......
Bill and the Specter.. asia
Bill and the Red Feathers. .
Bill’s King Stroke. Bieter:
Bill, the Desert Cyclone .. ge
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.......
Bill and the Man-wolf......
Bill and His Winged Pard...
Bill at Babylon Bar........
Bills Lon et Aim teen tis: pcs. tee
Bill-and Old Weasel Top....
Bill’s Steel Arm Pard...
Bill's; Aztec: Guides. ss 5.
Bill and Little -Firefly......
Bill; in. the’ Aztec “City c.f.
Bil’s Balloon Escape......
Bill and the QGuerrillas......
Bill’s Border War wea
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up
Bill and the Gamecock ie
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
Bill’s Whirlwind Finish....
Bill’’s Santa Fe Secret......
Bill and the Taos Terror...
Bill’s Bracelet of Gold....
Bill and the Border Baron..
Bill at Salt River Ranch...
Bill’s Panhandle Man-hunt.
Bill at Blossom Range.....
Bill and Juniper Joe. 5%). 42%
Bills Pinal Scoopin. os sews.
Bill at: Clearwater 2.22 58% «
Bills: Winnine Hand. 3203: 6:
Biles: Cinch: Claim. .22 80 2.3.
Bill’’s Comrades. Baoan
Bill in the Bad ‘Latids : UES eke
Bill and the Boy Bugler.
Bill and the Heathen Chinee.
Bill and the Chink War......
Bill’s Chinese Chase........
Bill’s Secret Message.......
Bill and the Horde of Her- ‘

OU OT OF OF OV OT EF OU OV OF OU OU OF OF OF OF OF OT Ol OTOL OF OF OF OF OFT OFT OL OT OT OT OT OT Ot en CLOT OV OT OL OT OT ONO

Bill’s Lonesome Trail......
BillisSee2@ wa iver. cs corse ns. wus.
Bill in Deadwood. :
Bill’s First Aid. Bree
Bill and Old Moonlight. Be secs! 5
Bill Repaid

Bill’s: Throwback t.csr.ue ws
Bill’s “Sight Unseen” sae
Bills New: bani sas:
Bill’s ‘‘Winged Victory”’

Bill’s Pieces-of-Hight.......
Bill and the Hight Vaqueros. !
Bis. Unlucky “Siesta. 35.545). 5
Bills Apache Clue. Bs

Bill and the Apache “Totem.
Bill’s Golden Wonder........
Bill’s Fiesta Night.... :

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be obtained direc’

from this office.

Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY |