Seventh Ave., N.Y. ive Cents , 79-89 F SMITH ice, by STREET & Pr 1910 9 Y. Post Office, lV. ET & SMITH JANUARY 8 e by STRE , Little Cayuse, on his Knees in the canoe, class Matter at th 1910. 9 > NEW YORK Copyright Entered as Secona- 50 per year. $2. 10” By subscr shouted his taunts at the baffled Indians, whose forms lined the top of the bluff. A WEEKLY PUBLICATION tpt As the form of Buffalo Bill came hurtling downward Issued Weekly | 8000204 | e). - rece A WEEKLY PUBLICATION a Issued 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., VV. Y. Copyright, 1910, by STREET & SMITH. & {==~ Beware of Wild West imitations of the Buffalo Bill Stories. They are about fictitious characters. The Buffalo Bill weekly is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffalo Bill, (Col. W. F. Cody), who is known all over the world as the king of scouts. No. 452. NEW YORK, January 8, 1910. Price Five Cents. BUFFALO BILL'S LONESOME TRAIL; OR, Foilinge the Red Inwaders. By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPTER L THE RED SCALP. Old Nah-hoos, the Crow chief, dearly loved a game of poker. - He was an Indian-at cards, whichis the same as saying that he cheated outrageously, bunglingly, con- stantly, and cheerfully. Detect him taking a card out of his sleeve and he would immediately and brazenly try to deal himself one off the bottom of the pack. When old Nah-hoos was caught trying to cheat he treated it as a huge joke, but whenever he caught an opponent cheating it was a very serious matter. While the “nat band of Crows was in camp on the bank of Arrowhead Creek, a strange white man, wear- ing a high hat, dropped in on the encampment. The old chief, at this*particular time, was as blue as a whetstone. His young men had recently defied his authority, and taken the war as against the Horde of Hermosa. It was all right to take the war trail against the Horde of Hermosa. The horde was a gang of white, red, and mixed-blood renegades that plundered whites a Indians, and made trouble all through the Crow, Cheyenne, and Sioux country. Buffalo Bill had captured the notorious Hermosa, ’ leader of the horde, and he was now in double irons and ¢ double guarded in the Fort Custer guardhouse. The capture of Hermosa had not ¢aused the horde to disinte- grate. Red rivals for the leadership had sprung up. One of these would-be leaders was FE] Chico, and another was Wah-choos-bay, son of Red Elk, of Nah-hoos’ tribe. Each of the red rivals had his following, and the two divisions of the horde had made bloody war upon each other. This, in itself, was all right, too. What could be more fitting than that a lawless company of renegades should proceed to sponge each other from the slate? But the young Crows under. Nah-hoos had felt the call of the “ Absaroke blood, and had decided ae they should go to the help of Wah-choos- “bay. - Wah-choos-bay was a diser edited medicine man, and did not deserve help; and old Nah-hoos felt certain that, after his young men helped Wah-choos-bay, they would unite their fortunes with his remnant of'the horde and go raiding and pilfering along the red trail that led to trouble with the white “walk-a-heaps” and pony soldiers. So Nah-hoos, still hoping he might in sonre way restrain his restive young men, had gone with them. Again Pa-e-has-ka (Buffalo Bill) swift as a panther when it springs, and keen of eye as an eagle, had thrown -himself into the horde’s troubles, and had captured El Chico. The young Crows had joined Wah-choos-bay, ie | THE BUFFALO and there had been a big fight on the Rio Bravo, around the great rock called Squaw Face. Truxillo, El Chico’s second in command, had been killed, and a bullet had pierced Wah-choos-bay’s heart. The young Crows, with much lamenting, had brought in the body of the Crow renegade, wrapped it im the choicest blankets belonging to the tribe, and bound it in the high branches of a cottonwood on the Arrowhead. But this had not been done until Nah-hoos, with crafty foresight, had taken from the breast of Wah- choos-bay, where it had laim concealed, a peculiar red scalp, the braided hair of it the length of a warrior’s arm, and the skin so hard and dry it must have smoked in some wigwam for many moons. This red scalp the chief hid away and kept secretly. It was a foolish thing, and had made much trouble. _ Nah-hoos, when the strange white man rode up to his lodge, was sitting glodmily in front, wondering if he could now induce his young men to go back to the buffalo grounds on the Powder River, and whether what they had dorie would make the white chief at Fort - Custer angry at them. The high, battered hat of the stranger struck a pang of envy to the chief’s heart. He had long yearned for a stovepipe hat. White Robe, of the Pah-sap-pah Sioux, had one, and Broken-nose, of the Cut-arms’ (Chey- ennes), had two. A high hat added much dignity to a chief in council, and certainly impressed the whites with his importance when he went visiting. Nah-hoos and the stranger smoked the peace pipe, and then Nah-hoos: called one of the squaws and told her to lead to the lodge his favorite war pony, the “painted” cayuse with the strips of red flannel and the metal bangles braided into his mane and tail. “J will give the pony to my white brother for his shiny war bonnet,” said Nah-hoos gravely. The white stranger used the Crow language tolerably well. By supplementing it with the hand talk he was able to make himself clearly understood. “The black war bonnet,” said the stranger, “is worth many ponies. The black war bonnet is big medicine. With it I always win at cards.” The old chief grunted incredulously. - “Nah-hoos would like to wear the war bonnet in coun- cil,” said he, ‘and when he travels to other tribes and to the forts of the walk-a-heaps. He knows the cards so well that he does not need the medicine of the black war bonnet to win.” The white stranger smiled craftily. “T will give two ponies,” said Nah-hoos. ‘We will play for the war bonnet,” said the stranger, producing a pack of cards. “We will play,” assented the chief shrewdly, “but we will use the cards of Nah-hoos.” “Tt is well, my brother,” and the stranger put away his own cards. Nah-hoos led the way into the lodge and spread a robe on the earthen floor; then, producing a dirty pack of pasteboards from a parfleche swinging from a lodge pole, he squatted on the robe and began to shuffle. -“T am staking the black war bonnet,” said the stranger, removing the high hat and setting it bottom up before him on the robe, “but what is my red brother putting up tore stake rt’. “ “Two ponies,” grunted Nah-hoos. The stranger shook his head. BILL STORIES. “T do not want ponies,” said he. “You will not get the ponies,” “but Nah-hoos will get the black war bonnet. Play!’ “T will play, my brother, for the red scalp.. The red scalp against the black war bonnet. That is fair. If you beat me, you take the red scalp and the black stovepipe hat, if [ beat you, I take the scalp and keep the hat.” The chief’s eyes began to glimmer. Where had this white stranger heard of the red scalp? “We play for the war bonnet and the ponies,” muttered the chief obstinately. The stranger reached for the hat and prepared to get up. “Nah-hoos should. play with squaws for yellow beads,” said he, “I journey far and must be going.” “Stay,” said the chief. “We will play for the red scalp.” He opened his shirt at the neck and drew into sight the long braided strand of hair, dropping it down in front of him. The stranger eyed the scalp with the same gleaming gaze with which the chief eyed the “plug” hat. Matches were chips, and each took ten. Nah-hoos dealt. .The stranger threw down his hand and Nah-hoos drew in the matches with a chuckle. It was to be “freeze-out,” and the player who secured all the other’s matches would keep the hat and the scalp. There was a rent in the skin wall of the tepee, and through this rent looked a pair of keen, interested eyes. Neither the chief nor the white stranger saw the eyes— they were too deeply absorbed in the game. The stranger dealt. The slowness with which he pulled the cards from the pack made the old chief im- patient. The stranger dealt the cards, one at a time, over the hat. Nah-hoos studied his cards, and “straddled” the ante. “Let us put-in all our matches, my brother,” suggested the stranger, “‘and show down after we draw.” The chief nodded. While the stranger had his head bowed dealing the chief two cards, Nah-hoos lifted the cards and exchanged them for two aces which he had at the back of his neck. . “Uh!” he said triumphantly, turning over his cards and showing three aces. So positive was he that he hac won. that he reached forth his hand to. take the hat. “Wait, my brother,’ said the stranger. you the hat was big medicine.” Then, under the -wrathful eyes of Nah-hoos, the stranger showed four kings. “The white brother cheats!’ stormed the chief. “The white brother,” returned the stranger, “does not take cards from the back of his neck. The hat, I told you, is big medicine.’ “We play. some more,” said the chief. “I stake six ponies against the black war bonnet and the red scalp.” The stranger leaned over and possessed himself of the scalp. a © “No, ay brother,’ he demurred; “I. have played enough. It is the red scalp I want. I do not want Nah- hoos’ ponies.. The stovepipe hat is big medicine. If | played longer I could take Nah-hoos’ whole village.” The chief’s eyes began to glitter ominously, and- his hand wandered to the skinning knife at his belt. The grinned Nah-hoos, “See! I told at id we 9%: 1€ Fs. THE BUPFALO stranger watched the movement, and brought one of his hands to the butt of a revolver, which hung from a leather waistband conveniently in front of him. 9 “We play some more,” insisted the chief. “IT will not strip my red brother of all his goods,” an- swered the white stranger. “The white brother may take the scalp,.but leave the black war bonnet!’ The knife flashed out of its scabbard and the revolver out of its holster. ‘ “No,” scowled the white stranger. While they crouched on the robe, glaring and ready to leap at each other’s throats, a chuckle came from out- side the lodge, the eyes disappeared from the rent in the hide wall and a form showed itself in the entrance. “Waugh!” called a husky voice, vibrant with no little mirth, "Pte erway yer choppers an’ poppers, you two. Yo’re both o’ ye skinners; an’ put up erbout the rag- gedest short- keerd game. I ever seen. Set right whar Ve aire.’ A six-shooter found its way into the newcomer’s hand, and he fanned it back and forth to command the two card players. “Pa-e-has-ka’s friend!’ mumbled the astounded chief. “Old Nomad!” breathed the stranger, CHAPTER 1, A-MIX AND A GET-AWAY. “Kla-how-ya, Six?” grinned the old trapper, greeting the chief in choice Chinook. “Mebbyso,” and he turned jovially on the white stranger, “you can clean up a ten-as Chinook? Sabe what I’m tryin’ ter git at, don’t ye, neighbor? Set right whar ye aire or, icta-nicka-ticki, i shoot. Hot-dog, this! Heap fine. Say, I was lookin’ through a hole in ther tent while you two Was tryin’ ter skin each other. Quite a fine piece 0’ headgear ye got thar, Perfesser Six, otherwise Fox Quiller. Ee ye re- member an ole friend, amigo?” The stranger scowled, but said nothing. looked, surprised. “Wolf-killer knows the white stranger?” he asked of old Nomad. “From spurs ter headpiece, Nah-hoos. Buffler knows him, too, an’ neither o’ us knows much good o’ him. Remember the time Buffler showed up Wah-choos-bay as a fake medicine man, an’ Wah-choos- -bay took ter the hills, an’ you sent out ‘Walkin’ Bird an’ some more 0’ yer bucks ter find him an’ bring him in?’ The chief nodded. “Waal,’”’ pursued Nomad, “when Buffler left yere camp, Nah-hoos ‘chief, he found Walkin’ Bird draggin’ this feller to’rds the Powder by the heels. Buffler, out o’ pure kindness, interfered-an’ saved his skelp. The feller said his name was Perfesser Six, an’ he rewarded Buffler for his gen- erosity by runnin’ off with his hoss, an’ rations, an’ rifle, leavin’ the scout in a hosstyle kentry with only his army revolver an’ nothin’ ter eat er ride. Then, when we ketthed Perfesser Six ag’in, he turned informer .on the horde—o’ which he was-a bright an’ shinin’ member— on condition thet we'd let him go. Buffler, as soon’s Hermosa was captured, turned Six loose. This is the fust time sence then thet either o’ us has set eyes on him. BILL, STORIES, 3 “hee His rale name is Fox Quiller, an’ he kain’t be lingerin’ in the Injun kentry fer no good.” Nomad faced Quiller scowlingly. “Remember what Buffler told ye when you an’ him _ separated?” he asked. Quiller remained silent. ‘He told ye,’ went on Nomad, “thet ef yere trail an’ his ever crossed ergin, he’d nail ye an’ take ye ter Fort Custer.” “My trail hasn’t crossed the scout’s, ” said Quiller, \ “Waal, et has crossed mine, an’ I'm a pard o’ the scout’s. Likewise, I’m considerin’ myself under ther same obligation ter put ther kybosh on ye.” “T only dropped in on Nah-hoos to rest a bit,’ pro- tested Quiller. “T’m er Piegan, Quiller, ef I’d take yer word under~ oath. Thar ain’t no knowin’ what ye drapped in hyar fer. Buffler is in Last Chance, an’ he sent me out ter . find what Nah-hoos an’ his Crows intends ter do, now thet El Chicos captured, Wah-choos-bay’s killed, an’ the horde aire on the run. I kim up kinder quiet an’ looked through thet hole in ther tepee wall. Mebbyso I wasn’t s’prised ter see ye playin’ keerds with ole Nah-hoos. What’s thet red skelp ye’re playin’ fer?” ~ Neither Quiller nor the chief answered, but both looked as though they were hiding something of im- portance. “Et’s er peculiar skelp, an’ no mistake,’ muttered the trapper. “Looks as though et maut hev been worn by er Chinaman oncet, only I don’t reckon the’ ever was sich a thing as a red- headed ‘chink. te was playin’ fer the skelp : >» “The chief wanted my eS hat,’ answered Quiller, “and just to amuse him, and pass the time, I put up the hat against that scalp.” “An’ you won, hey?” a did. The chief didn’t play fair, but I won, just the same.’ “Ther chief didn’t play fair, Quiller, an’ he didn’t hev nothin’ on you, at thet. Why, you didn’t play fair yer- 39 selier “Ugh!” grunted Nah-hoos, becoming suddenly inter- ested. “Big Hat didn’t play fair? I take stakes if he didn’t By ot “Waal, > erinned Nomad," woulene say thet. Neither a . played fair, so the pot’s ter be divided. You keep the red skelp, Nah-hoos, an’ Quiller keeps the plug cadi.” ‘“Nah-hoos wants the black war bonnet,” chief, with a hungry look at the high hat. “I reckon ye do,” said Nomad. “I never seen er In- jun yet thet wasn’t plumb crazy ter war a silk dicer. No sense in et; nuther.” “White stranger says the black war bonnet is big medicine,” pursued the chief, wand that he always wins at cards when he has the big hat.” “No wonder. Pick up thet plug hat, chief, an’ look in the bottom o’ et.” Nah-hoos picked up the hat and stared into the crown. What he saw there was-his own reflected image, “Ugh!” he exclaimed, raising his astounded eyes. “ketch on, chiel 2” chuckled Nomad. “Thar’s er piece 0’ lodkin’ -glass in the topo’ the hat. When Quiller be- gun ter’ play 1 with ye, he set ther hat bottom up in front o him, then he dealt the keerds over ef. -By lookin inter the hat he could see. every keerd he give ye. Oh, > murmured the — 4 THE BUFFALO et’s er fine layout fer gittin’ ther best o’ ther noble red man! Pore leetle trick o’ crammin’ a couple o’ aces down the back o’ yer neck couldn’t hold er candle ter Quiller’s hat trick.” : “Nah-hoos wants the black war bonnet,’ persisted the | chief, more anxious than ever to secure the high hat now that he had discovered how valuable it was. “T’m not selling my hat,” said Quiller sulkily. “I guess I need it more than the chief does. Fork over,’ he added, stretching out his hand. “Take the red scalp, my brother,” said Nah-hoos, thrusting the hat behind him, “and leave the black war bonnet with Nah-hoos.” With a growl of rage, Quiller flung himself on the chief. He was trying to use his revolver, and the chief was trying to use his knife. Old Nomad rushed forward to separate them and keep the set-to from resulting seriously. “Break away, thar!” he cried. “I won’t hev no fightin’ over sich a roodic’lous lot o’ plunder. Waugh! . Git away from him, Quiller, er I'll down ye with the butt o’ my revolver. I’m er Piegan ef ue Just at that moment, what might have been expected was brought to pass. The two struggling men were thrown against the lodge poles, and the skin tepee tum- bled about the ears of all three. Nomad, thrown off his feet, found himself enveloped in a net of hides. He roared and scrambled, but the more he tried to release himself the more securely he became entangled. Finally he gave up and lay still. A jabber of voices reached his ears, and high over the sounds came a di- minishinge fall of horse’s hoofs. “Thar he goes, consarn ther varmint!”’ thought the trapper. “Quiller has made er gitaway, an’ I was plan- nin’ ter tote him back ter Last Chance an’ hand him over ter Buffler. out sometimes.” A few moments later Nomad felt hands extricating him, and he was finally drawn clear of the demoralized tepee. “Nah!” said a ‘voice.. “You all right now, huh?” Nomad got up and looked at the squaw who had come to his relief. “Waugh!” he growled. “Yes, I reckon I’m all right; but whar’s thet keerd sharp with the high hat?” i The squaw shook her head. Nomad, straightening erect, swept his eyes around the camp. The young Crows were mounting their. horses and streaking off toward the open. First one would tear out, of the camp, then two or three. They were in a tre- mendous hurry, these Crows, and they latruped their ponies with their quirts and yelled like demons. ‘What's ther excitement?” queried Nomad. “Aire they pursooin’ ther keerd-sharp ter git ther stovepipe hat fer Nah-hoos ?” But, even as he spoke, he saw that the high hat was not the object of the pursuit. The chief was sitting at a little distance, crooning delightedly, and knocking the dents out of the white -stranger’s headgear. He acted like a six-year-old with a jumping jack. “Waugh, what reedic’lous purceedin’s!” grunted the _ trapper, groping under the wrecked tepee for his six- shooter. Having secured the weapon, he stepped toward the 1? Beats ther nation how things comes- BILL STORIES. chief and stood for a few moments looking at him with the utmost contempt. “Say,” said he, “thet’s the kind o’ thing thet makes the red man the laughin’-stock 0” ther yaller-eyes.”. “Heap fine hat,” said the chief in English, putting the “stovepipe” on his head and giving it a bit of a tilt over his right eye. “White Robe got one, Broken-nose got two. Now me got um. Whoosh!” ““Ye're a picter, an’ no mistake!’ scoffed the trapper. “Stick a feather in et an’ then ye'll be fixed. What're the Crows chasin’ Quiller fer, chief? Et kain’t be they’re atter the hat, kase ye’ve got thet yerself.” “Ugh!” exclaimed Nah-hoos. “The white stranger took the red scalp. He waved the scalp as he galloped out of the camp. My young men want the scalp.” “Why a : “They think it’s big medicine.” “Keno! Let ’em git et ef they want, an’ ’m hopin’ they down Quiller at the same time. I’m in luck that Quiller took his own hoss when he made his gitaway, an’ not Hide-rack, who was purty nigh as handy. | Ef the coyote had took Hide-rack, ’d——-” At that moment the chiéf lifted the hat. A folded paper fell out of it, and a tightly bound lock of hair fell out of the paper. There was something about this proceeding that gal- vanized the trapper into a rush of action. With a yell, he swooped down on the paper and the lock of hair and gathered them in before the astonished eyes of the chief. CHAPTER III. ON THE WAY TO LAST CHANCE, 99 “Paper talk, huh?” said the chief. Nomad straightened up and thrust the folded paper and the lock of hair into his pocket. “I ain’t a-wonderin’ none, chief,” said he, “thet Fox Quiller. didn’t want ter let ye hev ther hat. This,” and Nomad struck the breast of his coat, “was inside ther ' sweatband, whar sorie fellers allers kerries vallyble papers. In foolin’ with the hat, ye knocked them things out. Pard Buffler’ll be mouty glad ter git thet printed sheet an’ the lock 0’ ha’r, I opine. But what did Quiller want o’ thet red skelp?. Phet’s a p'int thet gits me.” The chief shook his head to signify that he did not know why Quiller wanted the red scalp. “An’ why aire yore young men so anxious. ter git et back?” went on the trapper. Again the chief shook his head. “They think the red scalp is big medicine,’ he an- swered. “Thar’s somethin’ more to et than thet,’ averred No- mad, “Ei ye know what et is, chief, yed better let et out. This Quiller person is no good. Buffler an’ me ketched him in some lawless work, an’ I’ll bet money he’s up ter the same kind o’ work now. What's back o’ thet red skelp?” The chief continued to shake his head... He was smoothing the shiny nap of the high hat, and seemed lost to everything.else but the “black war bonnet,” so over- joyed was he to have secured it. ‘Waal,’ said Nomad, “I mout as well finish the work thet brought me hyar an’ git p’inted back ter Last } i \ | ) RN ee ee as | ) a ee Chance. THE: BUFFALO What yore young Crows goin’ ter do, now thet the Horde 0’ Hermosa is scattered, FE] Chico in the Custer guardhouse alone with Hermosa, an’ Wah-choos-bay gone ter the happy huntin’ grounds? Aire the Crows goin’ ter be peaceable, er will Pard Buffler hev ter come over hyar an’ put er buckin’ strap on the hull tribe?’ At that the chief put aside the hat and gave Nomad his entire attention. | “The blood of my young men is hot,” said he; “but, now that Wah-choos-bay is gone, I think I can get them to go back to our land on the Powder River,’ “Pa-e-has-ka wants me ter tell ye thet, if the young Crows tries ter rally Wah-choos-bay’s half o’ the horde, an’.ter go pillagin’ an’ thievin’ with them, the young ‘Crows will all be herded tergether an’ marched ter Cus- ter. The white chief at Custer will punish ’em good an’ hard ef they tries ter kick over the traces. Buffler Bill has put the horde out o’ bizness, an’ the horde won’t do no more bizness onless yore young Crows j’ins ’em. Thet’ll be erbout all, I reckon. Et’s a signal smoke, -Nah-hoos, thet you want ter mind.” Nah-hoos protested that he would do everything possi- ble to keep his young men within lawful bounds; but their blood was hot, and Nah-hoos hoped Nomad, and Buffalo Bill, and the white chief at Custer would not be in @ hurry to send out the pony soldiers to make war on the Crows. After repeating his warning, old Nomad walked to his horse, climbed into the saddle, and headed for the low hill that overlooked the Crow camp. From the top of the elevation, the trapper was able to see for a long distance in every direction. Fox Quiller had long since been lost to sight, and also the Crows who had pursued him. Nomad, however, thought he might be able to see some of the Crows returning from the chase, but in this he was disappointed. His route to Last Chance was the same as that taken by Quiller in his flight, and as the trapper spurred Hide- rack onward at a brisk gait, he kept keen watch on all sides for signs of the young Crows. He was three miles from the Arrowhead and the camp of Nah-hoos before he sighted any of Quiller’s pur- suers; then, quite suddenly, he saw half a dozen Absa- roke warriors topping a ridge on his right. Drawing rein, he waited for the Indians to draw close. They had had no success. Nomad was positive of this from the sullen air with which the young bucks were picking their way back to camp. The Indians would have passed the trapper with only scowling looks in his direction, had he not ridden in front of them and lifted one hand restrainingly. The half-dozen Indian cayuses were pulled to a halt. “Did you catch the white stranger?” the trapper asked, piecing out his Crow words with the hand talk. “We would have his scalp, and the red scalp, if we had,” replied one of the warriors. “Where did-he get away?” “His cayuse was too fleet, of the Chetish Mountains.” “Why did you want the red scalp?” No one answered this, and Nomad repeated the ques- tion. “The red scalp is heap big medicine,” declared the brave who had been doing the talking for the others. “That’s not the real reason,” Digging their heels into their ponies, the Crows trailed He left us in the foothills ‘felt that he was warranted, BILL STORIES : a around Nomad at full gallop, vanishing toward the Ar- rowhead without replying further to his question. “Waugh!” snorted the old trapper, staring after the sullen riders, ‘““Thar’s er hen: on, some’rs. Thet red skelp means a hull lot ter them Crows, but et’s too deep fer me. Ill see how quick I kin git ter Last Chance, an’ put ther hull layout in front o’ Buffler. He'll get down ter ther bedrock o’ et ef anybody kin. Then, too, thar’s ther cipher message thet Quiller was totin’ in his hat. Et’s the third thing o’ the kind Buffler an’ me has connected with, an’ mebby et’'ll help us figger out what’s goin’ on.” A, lock of hair and a printed leaf constituted a secret means of communication between members of Hermosa’s Horde. The king of scouts, by the exercise of his wits, had dug the truth out of the first of-the cipher messages to come his way, and thereby he had succeeded in mak- ing a daring capture of Hermosa, leader of the horde. By a strange freak of circumstances, it was from Quiller that the scout had secured the first cipher communica- tion; and now it was from him, also, that Nomad had secured the third, The trapper was far from pleased with the result of his call at Nah-hoos camp. He had been told to remain there for several hours, perhaps overnight, and learn the present mettle of the young Absarokes. But Nomad in view of what had hap- pened, in making a.change of plan and hurrying back to Last Chance with a report for Buffalo Bill. For half a dozen miles, after his meeting with the un- successful ,Crows, old Nomad had an uneventful ride. Then events began to happen with suddenness and vigor —so much so ‘that only his quickness and Hide-rack’s fleetness enabled him to keep his hair, In the rough foothills at the base of the Chetish Moun- tains, the trapper j jogged leisurely around the elbow of a onlly..: he Onan he had passed the turn he found himself confronted by a dozen rough-looking horsemen, mostly red men, and, with but one exception, foreign to that part of the Indian country. The exception consisted of Fox Quiller, for he was at the head of the ugly- looking party. Tt was evident, at a glance, that the rufhans had been waiting in the angle for old Nomad, and it was equally evident, from the way they Handled their guns, that their presence boded him no good, “Throw up your hands!’ yelled Fox Quiller, spurring his horse forward. . “You're a prisoner! Resist, and Ve well shoot you out of your saddle! Fox Quiller could not have known the game old trap- per any too well. Had he been better acquainted with him he would have realized that that was the wrong way to make front on Buffalo Bill’s right bower. The old trapper let loose a yell that rang up and down the gully. It frightened the horses of the gang, and caused them, by virtue of its very suddenness, to leap backward and sidewise. Each of the criminal crew sud- denly found use for both his hands on the bridle reins. The echoes of the trapper’s shout were punctuated by two sharp reports. One redskin gave a howl of pain and seized his left wrist with his right hand. Another rocked in his saddle. Then, before the scoundrels could calm their horses and recover their wits in time to return the trapper’s fire, Hide-rack and his rider were back around the turn, 6 : ‘THE BUFFALO ; 7 with the sand flying like shot from under Hide-rack’s hind hoofs. ‘Don’t let him get away!” yelled Quiller. “Overhaul him!” Here, again, Quiller showed how, through lack of fa- miliarity with the trapper, he underestimated his resource- fulness in such a crisis. The country was seamed with little valleys, angling in all directions through the foothills. Nomad, when the mounted scoundrels got, around the elbow of the gully, was just vanishing over the bank on the right. Quiller urged his red followers up the bank, but, by the time they gained the crest and could look down,on the country on the other side, Nomad had disappeared. Furious Quiller ordered his men to scatter and search. They did so, but rounded up in an hour as sullen and .disappointed as the Crows had been over their failure to capture Quiller, a little while before. Meanwhile, the trapper, spurring this way and that, and threading a. devious trail through the foothills, had succeeded in evading Quiller’s men, and was again headed straight for Last Chance. “Ther ornery whelp!” breathed Nomad. ‘“He’s back in this kentry with er lot o varmints ffom the South. They’re invaders to a man, an’ I’d like ter know what in blazes thet white tinhorn has got up his sleeve. Meb- byso thet cipher message will give Buffler a line on him. And on thet red skelp, too,” he added, by an afterthought. “Coo-ley, Hide-rack, you ole persimmon,” the trapper fin- ished. “A bee-line an’ the keen jump—thet’s fer us, jest now.” ~ Se eee CHAPTER IV. A HURRY-UP CALL FROM CUSTER. Two men, their horses lathered with sweat, drew rein in front of Blunt’s log tavern in the mining camp of Last Chance. They had ridden hard and fast, these men, that was évident.. § One of them wore the uniform of an army officer, and -his horse sported the regular army gear. The other man was_a half blood, and his horse was a wiry cayuse that resembled the usual run of Indian ponies. The only person to be seen around the tavern was an Indian boy—a_ full-blooded Piute, nattily dressed in buckskins, and with his hair hanging down the sides of his head in two braids. A lock at the crown was set off with a magnificent eagle plume. | The Piute boy was sitting on the bench in front of _ the tavern, and as the two riders halted he surveyed them with passive curiosity. “Hello, there, Little Cayuse!” cried the army man. “How?” answered Little Cayuse. “Where’s Buffalo Bill?” ; “You want um Pa-e-has-ka?” “Sure I do, and in a rush.” “Me find um.” Cayuse bounded from the bench and hastened into the tavern. _Meanwhile>the two riders dismounted and se- cured their horses to the hitching pole. ‘ As they turned away from the pole, the officer pulling off a gauntlet and slapping the dust out of his clothes with it, Buffalo Bill stepped through the tavern door. BILL STORIES. “Tere’s luck!” cried the officer. “I didn’t/ know. but you'd be away somewhere, scout.” “Buenos, Lieutenant Blynn,” called the king of scouts heartily, his keen eyes wandering from the lieutenant to his companion. “What brings you this way?” “A hurry-up call for Cody,” laughed Blynn. “Where can be hold a little powwow, all by ourselves ?” “My room in the hotel willbe as good a place as we could find.” . | The lieutenant turned to his half-breed companion and motioned him to the bench. He seated himself obediently, and Little Cayuse, emerging from the tavern, took his place beside him. The full blood and the half blood looked each other over laconically. cos Buffalo Bill, led the lieutenant back into the tavern, the officer hatting at the bar for a brandy and soda— “Fust to get the dust out of his throat so he could talk’”’— and then followed the scout to his room. 5 “What’s to-pay, Blynn?” inquired Buffalo Bill as soon as they were seated. “The fiend only knows, Cody,” answered the lieuten- ant. “If the old man’s information is correct, though, there’s to be more trouble with Hermosa’s Horde.” The scout’s face hardened. : “IT thought we had finished with the horde,” said he. “With Hermosa and El Chico in the guardhouse at Cus- ter, and with Wah-choos-bay and Truxillo entirely out of the running, I had an idea that the gang had scattered ’ and would give the country no further trouble.” “We thought the same thing\when you brought in Hermosa,” observed the lieutenant, crossing his knees and thoughtfully whirling one of his spur rowels, “but that horde is a sort of three-headed snake, and seems to come to life again after one of the heads is cut off.” “We've already got rid of the horde’s three heads, * Hieutenant—Hermosa, El Chico, and Wah-choos-bay— and there’s no reason why the snake shouldn't be good and dead.” “Well,” laughed the lieutenant, “another head is com- ing up from the South.” fas “What’s that?’ The ‘scout was all attention on the in- stant. “Red invaders are on the way into this part of the Indian country. A white scoundrel, whom you know, is leading them, and it is the design of the party to collect _ thé remnants of El Chico’s gang and to carry out the precious plans Hermosa has laid down. .These red in- vaders are to be foiled-and turned back. Colonel Strong wants your advice as to how this piece of work had bet- ter be done. It’s almost impossible to get at the scoun- drels with a flying column, and yet the invaders must be put out of business before they have any chance to collect what’s left of El Chico’s gang.” “Who’s the white man at the head of the invaders?” “He called himself Professor Six that time he stopped | at the fort.” \ The scout started. : , Ah!’ he exclaimed, “Fox Quiller, Hermosa’s old lieu- tenant. I had a notion we’d hear from that scoundrel again. When I turned him loose a while ago, it was — very much against my better judgment, although there was nothing else to do.. Hermosa would never have been captured had Quiller not turned informer against the horde. But where did Colonel Strong learn all this about the invaders?” : “A half-breed, who was with the party, broke away oY x AS but uts ; to ere and tly, his ood orn, a-—~ 92. oon ten- igh, he. TS- out red 1ees ‘but s to ads, \y— ‘ood om- . in- the , 1S llect the | in- ‘ong bet- oun- nust e to are oped eu rdrel was here been the — this way that that was the reason he met THE BURFALO on the journey from the South. gave the colonel the information 1 am giving you.’ “Ts the half-breed the man you left outside?’ “Ves: 9 The scout shrugged his shoulders. “Tt: i was the ‘colonel, ” said he, “I wouldn't put too much confidence in information secured in that way. A man you can buy for fifty dollars is as liable to sell you false, as correct, information.” “TWwo- whistles has told the truth, Cody,” returned he lieutenant. “The old man sent out a couple of our scouts and they investigated. ‘Twenty invaders, most of them Comanches, are hound north.” “Tf that number of Comanches are this far north they certainly mean mischief. I can’t under stand why they should stray so far from their own country.” “Quiller brought them.” “T don’t helieve Quiller would have the power to bring them. Quiller is white, and I don’t see how he could have so much influence with the Comanches.” “It’s the red scalp that gives him the influence.”’ The scout stared. ‘(WVhat’s this about a®red scalp, Blynn?’’ he inquired. “Tt strikes me that you’re keeping the most important item back.” “That's the queer part of the whole affair,” commented Blynn, with a grewsome laugh. “T don’t see how it’s possible to take much stock in that red- scalp story, but you have just indicated the biggest proof we have that there’s something in the yarn. Quiller, by himself, couldn't have induced the Comanches to come north. /Therefore it follows he must have had some powerful bait to lure the redskins on. If what Two- pues says is to be taken seriously, that red scalp is the secret of Quiller’s power.” The scout knotted his brows. The further Blynn pro- ceeded with his talk, the more mystifying tt became. “Two-whistles,” proceeded the lieutenant, “was with the invaders at the time Ouiller met them, and he heard a good deal of the talk ‘between Quiller and Crooked Foot, who piloted the Comanches up from their own country. ‘Fhat was wild talk, rf Two-whistles rdports it correctly, and yet, so far as ‘T can judge, it must have a foundation in truth.” E94 “What was the talk?’ “Quiller told Crooked Foot that Hermosa had a lucky totem, and that whoever had the totem would be able to keep his followers unscathed from all their enemies.’ “Where was this totem when Hermosa was captured and put in the Custer guardhouse ?” inquired the scout. ht ante have been much of a luck bringer.” “There’s the point,’ answered Blynn. “Hermosa didn’t have the totem about him, and Quiller averred with his ill luck. El Chico didn’t have it, either, so that did the business for him. And Truxillo didn’t have it, and you know what became of Truxillo. Wah-choos-bay stole it from some of the El Chico gang.” “And we all know what happened to Wah-choos-bay,”’ laughed the scout. “‘Was that totem the red scalp?” “Tt was.’ “And the Comanches, believing such a cock-and-bull story, agreed to come on into the Crow country and help: Pee Quiller round up the scattered followers of El Chico? “There’s more to it than that, scout,’ ant. ‘It sounds like a fool yarn, I know, but you’re well For fifty dollars he said the | lie uten- © BILL STORIES. | 7 enough acquainted with Indians to understand that they’ve got a lot of fool notions. Richt you are, Blynn,”’ answered the scout. more is there to the story of the red scalp?” “Well, it originally belonged to the Comanches, and Hermosa got it away from Crooked Foot. Quiller sent word to the Crooked Foot tribe that, if they would come north, he would meet them and show them how to get the totem back. Two-whistles says the Comanches will fight to the death for that red-scalp totem, and _ that, when they get it, they'll let themselves loose and rob, kill, and destroy, secure in the belief that the scalp will keep them from being stopped or harmed by the pony soldiers.” “There may be something in the story.” “The colonel thought there was something in it, and he told me he felt sure you would know just how much of the yarn was to be believed. If it’s the red scalp that’s calling the invaders and fomenting trouble, then the thing to do is to grab the totem and destroy it “Which,” observed the scout;-“is a heap easier said than done. Where is this scalp?” “Two-whistles says that Quiller told Crooked Foot it was in the possession of Wah-choos-bay at the time of the fight between the two detachments of the horde at Squaw Face. Hi that is correct, then, quite likely, the red scalp is in the hands of Nah- hoos’ warriors, at pres- ent in camp on the Arrowhead.” “1 wish I had known about this early this morning,” said the scout. “I sent Nomad to Nah-hoos’ camp to find out what the young bucks were going to do. [ could have told him to look out for this totem. Nick won't be back before to-morrow, and I suppose it’s up to me to go out to the Arrowhead and see what I can do to locate the trouble maker.”’ “Hadn’t you better talk with Two-whistles?’’ asked the lieutenant. ‘The colonel told me to bring him along sd that you could have a palaver with him, if you w anted to. 39 “What “T reckon it wouldn't be a bad idea, ’ said the scout. “Have him come in.’ CHAPTER V, TWO-WHISTLES. Buffalo Bill was a keen reader of character, and. he fixed his sharp eyes on the half-breed as he entered the room. ‘Two- whistles met the look stolidly, but steadily. He did not have the appearance of a man who was playing a double game, or of one who had been sent by Crooked Foot, of the red invaders, to act as a spy. There was blinking recognition in ‘the steady look Two-whistles gave the scout. “Where are you from, Two-whistles?” asked the. scout. “From below the Arkansas,” was the answer. “Vou ate of Crooked Foot’s tribe ?”’ “My mother she all same Comanche. My father him trader. “I stay with Injuns—like ’em better as whites.” “Then why did you leave the Indians to sell informa- tion to the white chief at Custer?” “Injuns heap - big. fools,’ replied oyro-whistles, “Crooked Foot git in plenty. hot water. Two- whistles try keep his people from ee), try make ’ vem go back to Comanche country.’ 3 6 \S0uE BURPALO “Oh, ho!’ exclaimed the scout, struck with the novelty of the situation. ‘“‘You’re a reformer as well: as an in- former, eh >” “No sabe.’ said Two-whistles. ~“You think Crooked Foot and the Comanches with him are going to get themselves into trouble, do you?” “Big Hat git ’°em in trouble; sure, you bet.” “Big Hat?” — ’ “Him all same Fox Quiller—white man who come make big powwow with Crooked Foot.” . “I see. How many warriors have come north. with Crooked Foot ?” se “So many, Pa-e-has-ka.” Two-whistles held up his two hands and opened and closed them twice. “Twenty warriors, eh?” “Ai.” The hands were opened and closed once. many mixed bloods.” ae “That makes thirty, Cody,” put in Blynn. “Quite a gang. If Crooked Foot succeeds in collecting any of the old horde he’ll have ‘a bunch of trouble makers that can cause no end of trouble.” ‘Why has Crooked Foot brought his followers into the Crow country, Two-whisties?” went on the scout, choos- ‘ing to ignore the information already received from the lieutenant and get his knowledge at first hand. “Big fool business, Pa-e-has-ka,” grunted Two-whis- tles. “Crooked Foot try get um red medicine scalp.” . “What is this red medicine scalp?” ole “Crooked Foot’s tribe have it long time. Once Co- manches catch white man’s wagon train, burn it up. Red-haired Chinaman with train. Crooked Foot kill Chinaman, take Chinaman’s scalp. All that grass Crooked Foot have heap big luck. «Steal plenty, kill plenty game, git plenty scalps. Heap many kettles and robes in lodges, heap many ponies in tribe. Comanches become rich. Crooked Foot say all because they got red medicine scalp. White soldiers never bother Crooked Foot and his warriors.” es “So that’s where the red scalp got its hold on the tribe, eh?” murmured the scout with a shrewd glance at Blynn, * “Heap foolishness,’ snorted Two-whistles. “Me got more sense. Been long time with whites on Niobrara. Injun foolishness no fool Two-whistles.” SO “The red medicine scalp was stolen from Crooked Foot ?”’ “Ai, Hermosa stole um. After that hard luck come to Crooked Foot and the Comanches. Cheyennes, Apaches all make raid, catch Comanche’ ponies, steal robes and kettles, take Comanche scalps; game heap scarce, Co- manches have hard time to keep alive; white soldiers make trouble—oh, plenty hard luck come to Crooked Foot and his warriors. Crooked Foot say warriors have hard luck because lose um red medicine scalp. Two- whistles know all happenehance, but other Injun think red medicine scalp make trouble. Ugh!” It was a plain case of Indian superstition, engrafted © upon a tribe by the workings of-ehance. That Two- whistles had escaped the prevalent superstition seemed somewhat remarkable to Buffalo Bill. Still, the half- breed, on his own showing, had been much with the whites, and he seemed like a man with a mind. of his awn. “Go on, Two-whistles,” said the scout.) “Tell me how Crooked Foot and the rest of his followers came to head north.” oF BILL “SVORIES. “Runner come «from the north,’ continued Two Whistles. “Runner half Sioux, half Mex. Him tell Crooked Foot ’bout Hermosa, how him got red medicine scalp. Runner tell Crooked Foot how Big. Hat hate Hermosa, how him help Crooked Foot get the red medi- cine scalp from Hermosa and give um to Comanches. Crooked Foot ‘call big council, council agree to. send war patty north. Two-whistles got heap sad heart. Him know Injun stir up plenty trouble with white sol- diers, mebbyso get wiped out. Him travel with war party, leave the Comanches and go to big chief at Custer. Two-whistles. tell big chief all, ask um help save Co- manches from trouble.” “What do you think of that, Buffalo Bill?” asked Blynn, drawing a long breath. “If what Two-whistles says is true, he ought to be entitled to a leather medal. He’s a half-breed of parts, a splendid example of clear thinking, and’ of a mixed blood with ideals above’ the common. That is,” and the lieuteaant waved a hand over his left shoulder, “if you take his own word for it. The colonel didn’t.” = “Two-whistles is all he pretends to be,’ asserted the scout decidedly. “He’s a rarity, &ad you'll not find many of his stamp in the Indian country. He sees the perils threatening the tribe of Crooked Foot, and he is doing his best, at the risk of his life, to set the tribe right and save it from destruction. How long do you suppose Two- whistles would last, among Crooked Foot’s braves, if it was known he had gone to Custer and given up all this information ?” > _ “Why did he take fifty dollars for it? “Why burn it in front of Crooked Foot, Two-whis- tles?”’ queried Buffalo Bill. ‘ “Crooked Foot see um, see um burned, know um gone for good. _Crooked Foot say, no got um red medicine scalp, no got um luck on warpath. Better so we go back to Comanche country.” ; The scout brought his right fist down in his left palm — emphatically. “By Jupiter!” he exclaimed, “he’s coppered the right bet, Blynn! The thing that’s getting Crooked Foot into the Crow country is the hope of recovering the scalp. If he gets the scalp, the superstitious Comanches will believe that.they can burn and plunder wherever they wish, and _ that the scalp “will keep them out of trouble with the - asae ee gare) = geet oe C7 ah to eee vO o]] ne a FOF SAL NI NNN white soldiers. ' as harmless as a lot of jackrabbits. THE: BUPEALO The thing to do—and the only thing— is to lay hands on the red scalp, then round up the in- vaders and destroy. the trouble maker before their very eyes. That will send them back to their own .country If they once secure possession of the.scalp, Quiller will steer them ona. raid that will be remembered for a long time in this section,’ “One red-haired scalp, Cody,” observed the heutenant - gloomily, “is a hard thing to find.’’ “Not if it’s among Nah-hoos’ people.” “Suppose it’s with somé member of the scattered horde?” “That will le it harder to Bet hold of, but it’s by no means impossible to turn the trick.” Blynn shrugged his shoulders. : “T’d hate to be the one that tries to turn the trick. The game is rough-edged with more danger than I’d care to tackle. ‘What's more, scout, whatever’s done will have to be done in a rush. Cr ooked Foot i is in this section, and his bucks and breeds are with him. If the invaders are turned back, there’s no time to be lost.” “As I told you before, Blynn,” said the scout reflect- ively, “T wish I had known about this red scalp in time to give old Nomad a pointer. A good deal of time could have been saved, as I'd have told him to hunt through the camp of Nah-hoos for the red scalp;.if it wasn’t found, Nick could have questioned the young Crows, and he might have secured a clue to its whereabouts that would be of the utmost importance. However,” and here Buf- falo Bill~started briskly to his feet, ‘“we’ve got to*take things as we find them, and I'll saddle up and hit the high places between Last Chance and Arrowhead Creek. Vll get there some time- to-night, and possibly I'll. find : my old pard still in the camp.’ “Do you want to take Two-whistles with you?” asked Blynn. “Two-whistles had better lay low until this game is wound up. If he doesn’t, he’s likely to suffer the fate that has .overtaken*a good many other reformers. © I’ll handle this piece of work—I and my pards.”’ ' “Colonel Strong thought you’d be equal to the job, and that you’re.about the only man in the whole Indian country who could do it. Personally, I don’t believe that Just at that moment the door was pushed open and old Nomad staggered irito the room. ~*Nick!” exclaimed’ the astounded scout. “Kerect, Buffler,” said Nomad, dropping into a chair; “et’s yer ole pard, totin’.er bag er lively tricks. Watch while I turn ther bag inside out. Ye’ Il be one Se man, Buffler, afore Tt done.” The king of scouts was not >to be the only surprised man as a result of that interview. CHAPTER V1. S CROSS TRAILS OF CHANCE, It-was odd indeed that old Nomad should have a re- port to make concerning Fox Quiller, the red scalp, and the invaders, and that he should, arrive with the report at the very time Buffalo Bill was listening to the courier from Custer. : - ORM aie Ra an ey ALES: Sate _a look through a hole in the hide wall. Bi STORES <3 9 “You're back early; Nick,” remarked tne, Scout 7) wasn't expecting you until to-morrow.’ “Waugh!” grunted the trapper, studying the lieutenant and the half-breed with some curiosity. “I was chased part o’ ther way in. Howdy, Blynn? Who's the breed ?” _ “He came with the lieutenant, Nick,” answered Buffalo Bill. <; Phen! reckon ye better shoo him out’while I’m re- lievin’ myself o’ what’s on my mind,” “Wait outside, Two-whistles,” said the scout, waving a hand toward the door. The half-breed strode out. “Want me to change lecations, too; » asked ‘Blynn. “Nary, leftennant,” said Nomad; “T reckon et won't hurt none ef ye listen ter what I’m. goin’ ter say. But I’m leery o’ breeds | when I, got important matters ter communicate.” “Go ahead and Coane Nick,” urged the scout. “There are lively doings in prospect and not much time to lose.” “Tickled “ter : death. #er leet thet, anyways, Buffler. Waal, I made tracks ter the Arrowhead, ‘cordin’ ter orders, an’ I’m er Piegan ef I didn’t run up ag’in a tin- horn as we both know, fust clatter.. Et was Periesser Six, otherwise Fox Quiller.” “Great guns!” exploded Blynn. “Cross trails of chance, Cody. Everything seems to happen just right for~ you.” \ “No cumtux,” loose ?”” gg “Never mind for the present, Nick,” scout. “Go right ahead with your report.” “T didn’t pass no one but the herd boys in gittin’ into ole Nah-hoos’ camp,’ ’ pursued the trapper. “They told me the chief was entertainin’_a white stranger at keerds in his lodge. Everythin’ seemed peaceable. . Not a red looked crossways at me, er promised trouble. I shacked along down ter the chief’s tepee, dismounted, an’ took Waal, ther chief was sartinly playin’, an’ I purty nigh drapped when I seen he was playin’ with Fox Quiller. Nah-hoos was pullin’ keerds out 0’ the back o’ his neck, aecordin’ ter his us’al custom, an’ Quiller was dealin’ over thet plug hat o’ his, in ther bottom o’ which I could see a lookin’- glass. By lookin’ inter the glass, Quiller could see every kééerd he handed ter Nah-hoos. But they wasn’t playin’ fer money. Nah! Et was ferf a red skelp thet——” Blynn bounded from his_ seat and the scout stirred in amazement. “Well,” breathed Blynn, “speak to me about this! If it isn’t the strangest thing I ever heard of, I don’t want a cent. A red scalp! What about that, Cody: fe “Was it a scalp with a long red braid, Nick?” inquired said the trapper. “Now, what hev I let answered the the scout. “Keno, kerect, an’ likewise 57,” replied’ the startled Nomad: “Say, you fellers seem ter know purty nigh as much erbout thet red skelp as Ido. Whar’d ye find out?” “We'll tell you later, old pard. Fire away. Your talk is mighty interesting.” Nomad continued to detail his experiences in the camp of Nah-hoos. Observing that his report was of impor- tance, he went elaborately into details, He told of the tussle between Nah-hoos and Quiller, of the overturning of the lodge, of the escape of Quiller with the red scalp, but minus the high hat, of Nah- hoos’ SS a ree to _ THE BUFFALO deep regard for the hat, and of the cipher message that had dropped out of it; then he hurried somewhat with the description of the returning Crows, foiled in their pursuit, arid his meeting with Quill er at the head of a gang in the gully, - = ay hustled fer hyar, Buffler, the trapper finished, “totin’ thet cipher message an’ all worked up over things thet had took place which I couldn’t understand. Thet red skelp has bothered me more’n anythin’ else. What erbout et, anyhow ?” Then, briefly but clearly, the scout explained the hurry- up call that had brought Blynn to Last Chance. As the scout talked, the trapper’s eyes widened. “Howlin’, hyeners!” muttered Nomad, when Buffalo Bill was done. “Ye said right, leftennant, when ye al- lowed ther trails o’ chance had crossed. I never seen ’em meander in sich crooked lines afore, comin’ out plumb at a certain p’int like what they done. I run inter part o Crooked Foot’s outht, thar in thet gully; but whyever was they layin’ fer me?” “It's Just possible,” said the scout, “that Quiller had figured it out that you. had secured the message he left behind him in the hat,” “Waal,” chuckled the trapper, “he was some es er- bout thet, but he slipped a cog when he tried ter nab me. Ye couldn’t see me an’ Hide-rack fer dust when we was gittin’ erway from thet bunch o’ invaders.” “Crooked Foot has got the scalp,” commented Blvnn disappointedly. “You can’t follow out the plan as,we had outlined it, Cody. It’s up to the colonel, T guess, to send out a war party of his own.” “What was thet thar plan, Buffler?”’ asked Nomad. “Inasmuch as the red scalp seemed to have called the invaders into the Crow country,” said the scout, “and to lie at the root of all the trouble that’s liable to hap- pen, Blynn and I had made up our minds that the right thing to do would be to get the scalp before it had fallen into the hands of Crooked Foot. Your report, however, shows that the scalp has already reached the Comanche chief, so that part of our scheme has been knocked into a cocked hat.” “Wisht I’d a-known all this afore I went a-visitin’ ole Nah-hoos,” said the trapper. “Ef I had, Buffler, I’d a made et my bizness ter annex thet skelp. Anyways, Crooked Foot didn’t hey the skelp, at last accounts., Et. was Quiller as had it.” “Quiller secured it for Crooked Foot,’ went on: the scout, “and if he gets the help of the chief.in his attempt to round up the scattered horde and make trouble in the Indian country, Quiller will have to turn the scalp over to Crooked Foot.” “What a passel 0’ ijuts them Comndcne aire,” growled the trapper. “Jest as though a chink’s ha’r could bring anybody luck!” “We all of us have our weaknesses, Nick,” said the scout. “There are white men’’—his voice grew quizzical ——‘‘who believe in, ‘wiskizoos,’ and I don’t’ see how. we can blame our red brother for taking stock in a red scalp. let me see that cipher message. Perhaps that will let in a little light.” “Right ye aire, Buffier,” agreed Nomad, digging up the printed leaf and the lock of hair. As the scout spread the printed leaf out on a table, the lieutenant and the trapper crowded close. Dill STORIES. “That’s the’sort of thing that was handed in for Her- mosa, the time he was in the guardhouse at Custer the first time,” said Blynn. ‘You know how to work it out, Cody ?” “Ve kin bet yer spurs he does, leftennant,” rumbled the trapper. “Hasn’t Buffler already worked. out two of feng re “There are only twenty printed lines on a page, Niclx,” said the scout, counting the lines, “and there used to be twenty-six. The book Hermosa and El Chico used for tearing out the printed pages was lost to the gang that time El Chico was captured in Half-a-day Gulch, so they have to use some other book. Twenty lines to a page, Blynn, and that makes forty lines on both pages. Un- less I’m mightily mistaken, you'll find forty hairs, all of different length, in that lock. Count ’em, will you?’ replied Blynn, after the count. “The number at the top of this page is one-twenty- three,” continued the scout. “The one-twenty-four on the other side is penciled out. That makes the message easy to decipher,” “But how do you decipher it?” persisted Blynn. ‘hae ts, Taking the shortest hair from the lock, Buffalo Bill laid it on the first line. It touched a letter at the end, Ce 22 the letter “Ww. The next longest hair, laid on the second line, reached 66S 99 the letter “1, “Well; Tl be hanged!” exclaimed Blynn. “It must have taken a man with a head on him to think up such a cipher as that!” “It was Hermosa’s head that evolved the cipher,” said the scout. “How do you know the lines are to be taken in one, two, three sequence?” “The number at the top of the page is the clue to that. “Forty is correct,” _ It is one-twenty-three.” “All same cipher number two,” chuckled Nomad. “I found part o’ that cipher, and Buffler found t’other part. Et’s what done the bizness fer El Chico.” “Put down the letters, Blynn, as I call them out,” said Buffalo Bill. On the back of an old letter the lieutenant proceeded to pencil the component parts of the message. When Sutfalo Bill had worked through both sides of the printed page, Blynn had something like this: Willmeetyouandcrookedfootsofsquawfacewed “Looks like the alphabet had gone on a tear,” said Blynn, handing the message to the scout. “Plain as can be,’ returned the scout, after studying the letters for a few moments, “A: tiptop clue. That’s a prime thing about these secret messages, amigos— nothing but important matters is éver put into them,” “What does thet one mean, Buffler?” res old Nomad impatiently. “It is from some ‘of the scattered members of: the horde—a man of some: authority. Probably the mes- sage was delivered to Quiller by an ignorant Indian or h aif-breed: The message reads, Will meet you and Crooked Foot south of Squaw Face Wednesday.’ ” “Hoop-a-la!” exulted the trapper. “Hot-dog, thet! An’ this hyar’s Tuesday arternoon, Buffer! T reckon thar’ll be somethin’ doin’ erlong the Bravo ter-morrer.’ & ohne ler- the out, the of 39 me . be for hat hey Ze, | of ity- age Bill nd, hed lust ha said one, hat. Pik art. said ded hen the said ing at’s Sesto 39 old the TESS . or and 1et ! kon 33 & THE BUFFALO CHAPTER Vil. THE HUNTER'S CABIN. Tuesday evening Lieutenant Blynn and Two-whistles started back to Fort Custer, the lieutenant carrying word that the scout and his pards would do their best to secure the Comanche totem and turn the red in- vaders back toward their own country; and-on Wednes- day morning, after an early breakfast in Blunt’s tavern, Buffalo Bill, Nick Nomad, and Little Cayuse mounted their horses and pointed for the Rio Bravo. : “Chances aire good fer some hot doin’s, Buffler,” ruminated the old trapper, as they rode, “but chances ain’t at all good fer corralin’ thet red skelp.” “If we don’t corral it, Nick,’ said the scout, “this ex- pedition of ours is going to be a failure. There are thirty of’ the invaders,,and if they can pick up ten of the horde—and it’s a safe bet there are at least that many of the gang hiding out in the hills—Quiller and Crooked Foot are going to have a mighty respectable following.” “Respectable ain’t ther word, Buffler, ter apply ter them. varmints.” “Respectable, I mean, in point of numbers.” “Bither this hyar Crooked Foot er Fox Quiller has got ther skelp. Both of ’em'll be -surrotinded purty ‘constant by the outfit the Comanche chief brought with him from ther south. I’ve already run inter a detachment o’ thet gang, an’ I’m tellin’ ye they aire _ pizen.--What’s yer scheme fer gittin’ the skelp away from: Crooked Foot. er Quiller?” The scout shook his head. “T haven't any scheme, Nick. In the very nature of things, it’s impossible for us to lay any hard-and-fast plans. I’ve a vague idea that we must intercept the Crooked Foot outfit and/secure the scalp before they join the remnant of the horde that is waiting for them south of Squaw Face.” : “Any time ter-day the two gangs aire ter come ter- cether, « : “Neither gang will do much trailing around in broad day—they’ll have too much fear of Colonel Strong’s scouts, say. nothing of Nah-hoos’ lurking Crows. The Crows’ want) that red scalp as badly as the Comanches, and they're feeling pretty hostile toward the invaders, about now.” “They’re hosstyle toward Quiller, Buffler.” “It’s all the same. The Crows will discover that Fox Quiller took the scalp for Crooked Foot.” | Nomad rode at the scout’s side for a space in deep reflection. Little Cayuse, on his pinto, Navi, traveled behind, erect-and springy as a young sapling. He saw and heard evefything, but his face was as impassive -as though chiseled from stone. “Ain’t et quare, ain’t et ther blamedest thing ye ever heerd of,” tuned up the old trapper at last, “thet sich er fool thing as a chink’s scalp should cause all this hyar ruction?”’ nS “No queerer, Nick, than that a lot of reds should get locoed over a ghost dance, or go on a war hike because some fake medicine man makes cold water boil with a pinch of soda.” “When an Injun takes notioris, he’s got a white man plumb peat. fer goin’ ther limit. What’s yer idee, Buffler, fer lookin’ in on this hunter’s cabin on the Arrowhead ?”’ ~ BILL STORIES: “That cabin, pard, will make a good headquarters for us. It stands about in the middle of the country the Crooked Foot detachment will have to cross in getting to Squaw Face. You, and I, and Cayuse have got to watch all the trails, so we'll separate at the cabin, you and Cayuse riding east and west. If either of you see any signs of Comanches, you can hurry to the cabin and report.” “You're plannin’ to do yer watchin’ at the cabin, Buf- _ fler?” ‘Ves 7? - — —~ es. “How d’ye know this hyar cabin is whar ye think et ist), ~ “Blynn>-assured me it was there. He saw it. once when he was out on a hike.” “T kain’t understand why a white hunter would build a cabin right in the thick o’ the hosstyle kentry. Et kain’t be the feller felt safe er minit while livin’ in the wickiup.” “From all accounts, Nick, the hunter was an odd fish. The Crows, Cheyennes, and Sioux were afraid of him and said he coffldn’t be killed. He was called Old Weasel, and tradition runs that he was fired at point- * blank a dozen-times and that the bullets rolled from- him like drops of black water. For that reason the reds left Old Weasel alone, and he hunted and trapped all through the Indian lands without molestation.” “He must er had a rabbit’s foot,” grinned Nomad. ‘What become o’ Ole Weasel, pard?” “He was helping’ wagon train across the Indian country—the same wagon train the horde destroyed— , and Old Weasel was one of* the two men who were killed.” i “Then his rabbit’s foot didn’t help him so much, arter all. More’n likely, pard, the Injuns hev pulled Ole Weasel’s cabin down, er burned et up.” “You can’t get an Indian to go within a dozen miles — of Old Weasel’s cabin, Nick. They think it’s bad medi- cine—and that’s another reason why it’s a good place for us to rendezvous.” “More long-headed work, Buffler! Ye’re ace high when et comes ter layin’ out a campaign.’ But tell me more erbout thet wagon train. Was thet the one Fox Quiller was supposed ter hev ‘had a hand in wipin’ out?” : Vase : “Waugh! Why, thet’s the work Hermosa an’ El Chico aire ter be strung up fer!’ - “And Fox Quiller, too,” finished Buffalo Bill. _“Col- onel Strong has a clear case against all three of the scoundrels.” f Two hotirs saw the pards well through the foothills of the Chetish Mountains and hard upon the bottoms of Arfowhead Creek., They had watched vigilantly for signs ~of Comanches and Crows, but had seen nothing of Indians or half-breeds. ‘ \ Their course carried them well to the west of Nah- hoos’ camp, and they splashed across the creek and con- — tinued to follow the stream by the north bank. The scout took the lead, recalling Blynn’s directions for finding the cabin as he rode onward. A half an hour’s ride through the cottonwoods. that fringed the creck bank brought the riders to a bluffy uplift with a gash through its centre. A branch of the Arrowhead had once flowed through the gash, but the waters of the branch had dried up for all time. 12 THE BUFFALO The Arrowhead was at flood stage, owing to recent rains, but no water could be coaxed through the rift in the bluff. At the mouth of the gash the scout drew rein. A dim footpath, overgrown, but still traceable, emerged from the little valley and ran down to the edge of the creek, “Aire we close ter ther cabin, pard 2”! “asked the trap- per as he and Cayuse pulled in their horses. “It’s in there,’ the scout answered, waving his hand toward the opening in the bluff. “This blind trail must be the one Old Weasel used when he went to the creek after water.” “Ther ole mossback must hev been a purty good sort ter leave his safe wickiup an’ try ter help a lot o’ prairie schooners through the Injun country.” Buffalo Bill Spurred into the narrow opening and led the way until a sharp turn brought him within sight of an old log cabin. It was a small eabin and showed its age only as the result of wind and weather. Vandal hahds, it was apparent at a glance, had not been laid upon it. Two windows, one in the side and the other at the end, had not a broken pane of glass. However, the door, which was in the side wall, visible to the scout and his pards, was standing open. “Looks: like somebody had been thar, Buffler,’ re- marked. Nomad, “in spite o’ the fact thet ther Injuns think ther cabin is bad medicine.” Little Cayuse’s sharp ears had detected something which had escaped both the scout and the trapper. “Ugh! the boy called. now !” r Navi flashed past Hide-rack and Bear Paw. As the pony’s feet drummed the sand of the old creek bed a form leaped through the cabin door. It was not the form of an Indian or a hali-breed, but of a wiry, brown- skinned Mexican. “Halt, thar!” roared old Nomad, digging the spurs into Hide-rack. The ‘scout likewise pushed Bear Paw to his best pace. The Mexican, whirling around the end of his cabin like a streak, disappeared fOr an instant, then reappeared on a horse and fled up the valley. Cayuse, having the better start, led the pursuit. The scout and the trapper, as they pounded along, saw the Mexican turn in his saddle and lift his arm. A sharp report echoed out, but the bullet sang past the Piute’s ear and hurled itself harmlessly into space between Buffalo Bill and Nomad. “Ther pizen varmint!” roared Nomad, one of his own revolvers. Little Cayuse, nothing daunted by his close call, dug into Navi with his moceasined heels. A moment more and he had vanished around another turn. Thirty seconds later, the scout and the trapper like- wise rounded the turn. A long stretch of the narrow valley lay before them, with only a small patch of scrub tucked against the right- Rand bank to interfere with the vision. The Mexican had disappeared and the Piute boy, puzzled and perplexed, had halted his pony and was studying the ground. “Whar did he go, Cayuse?” yelled Nomad, sweeping alongside the Piute. “No sabe,’ answered Cayuse. don’t see um.” “Fle must have gone over the bank,” said the scout. unlimbering “Me see um, then me “Me hear um somebody BILL STORIES. “You take the right-hand bank, Nick, and I'll take the other.” Hide-rack and Bear Paw made excellent time get- ting up the steep banks, but there was nothing to be seen from the crest of them. Disappointedly, the scout and the trapper turned and rode down into the dry bed of the stream. Cayuse, meanwhile, had been bushw hacking in the serub. He called loudly, and the pards hastened to force their way to his side. The mystery of the Mexican’s disappearance lay re- vealed. Back of the scrub the bank was cut away, af- fording easy passage for a horseman into another seam of the hills. ‘“Thar’s whar ther infernal greaser went,” grumbled Nomad disgustedly, “and he made as slick a git-erway as ye could wish fer. I thort ye said, Buffler, no one ever came ter Ole Weasel’s cabin?” '“No Indians or breeds ever come there,’ the scout answered. ‘hat Mexican was not as superstitious as the reds and the half bloods. Too bad the fellow gave us the slip, but that don’t need to worry us. Quite likely he was only some chance prowler.” eat his bizness was. straight, Buffler,” inquired Nomad, ‘ ‘what did he run fer? “Ain't et likely, too, thet he was one o’ the El Chico branch o’ the ponds usin’ the cabin fer a hang-out ?” -. “Of ‘course it’s likely, Nick, but guessing ie the Mexican isn’t going to help us any. We'll go back and take a look at the inside of the cabin.” Slowly they rode back down the ravine, searching the sandy bed of the dried-up creek for hoofprints. Aside from their own tracks they could find only the trail of-a single horse. This relieved old Nomad’s forebod- ings somewhat, and all three dismounted at.the cabin door and went in. 39 CHAPTER Vill. A WHIRL OF EVENTS. The work of vandals was plainly in evidence inside Old Weasel’s cabin, if not on the outside, The hut’s one room had, at some previous time, been neatness itself. The walls had been whitewashed, and the cabin supplied with furniture whipsawed from trees felled in the creek bottom. But the benches, chairs, table, and hanging cupboards had been ruthlessly broken. Empty his! cy bottles lay on the floor, and the hearth of the fireplace was piled high with ashes, Nomad stirred the ashes and felt of them with his hand. They were warm. “Thet greaser cooked his breakfast hyar this mornin’, Buffler,” ‘the trapper declared. “T ean’t see any food,” returned the scout. “Then he must hev only drapped in fer the night an’ brought his chuck along, Further, I reckon he was prepared ter leave when “he heerd us a- comin’, kase his hoss was saddled an’ ready fer the trail.’ Stepping to the log wall, the scout putled a dirk out of one the squared logs. “The Mexican went away so quick,” said he, “that he forgot to:take this. Bring in some rations, Nick, and picket the cattle where there’s forage. After an hour led lay : yne ip in nd EY he 11S aS 11S tie c he nd ur THE; BUFFALO here, you and Cayuse will have to ride east and west and look for signs of Comanches,” Cayuse helped Nomad with the horses, then kept his own share of the rations outside and watched the ani- mals as they browsed and as he ate his cold dinner, “T shouldn’t wonder, pard,’ ventured Nomad while he and the scout were eating, “ef the El Chico half o’ the horde hevn’t been usin’ this cabin fer a hang-out ever sence the fight at Squaw Face. Injuns wouldn’t bother ’em hyar, an’ they could keep a sharp lookout an’ dodge the sojers from Custer. Mebbyso the varmints hev been in this place till quite recent, an’ only gone north ter meet Crooked Foot an’ Quiller. “That’s possible,” admitted the scout. “That Mexican may have been a straggler from the main body, and when the rest went I suppose they took all their rations and other gear along. That proves,” the scout finished, “that the gang is not expecting to come back here, and the place is safe enough for our purposes,” : They finished their meal in silence; then, aiter a brief smoke, they left the cabin and went out to where Cayuse was sitting in the shade of some bushes and keeping an eye on the live stock. “Cayuse,” said Buffalo Bill, “I want you to scout to the east, halfway between this ravine and the camp of Nah-hoos. Take up your position at a place where you can get a good view of the surrounding country and watch for Comanches going north. If you see a party, either small or large, hurry back here as quick as Navi can bring you, and report. Don't stay any longer until about the middle of the afternoon.” The scout turned to the trapper. “Vou will do exactly the same thing, Nick,” he went on, “only you will ride five or six miles to the west. In going north, the Comanches will have to pass some- where between you and me, or between me and Cayuse. I. don’t believe Quiller and Crooked Foot will wait until night before making their forward movement, although that would manifestly be their safest. course. They will plan to come up with the remnant of El Chico's gang before sundown in order to avoid possible mistakes in identifying the men. So ride back here, both of you, by the middle of the afternoon. If nothing is discovered, we'll figure that the Comanches have already gone forward, and we'll make a move in, the direction of Squaw Face.” “Thet’s all right fer us, Buffler,” said Nomad, “but s’posin’ ye’re’ the one thet ketches sight o’ the Com- manches. Will ye wait fer Cayuse an’ me ter ride in, or will ye trail along arter ‘em all by yer lonesome a This raised a point which it was well to settle, then and there. “Something may happen,” said the scout, “to cause me to leave the cabin. If you and Cayuse don’t find me around when you get back, proceed cautiously toward Squaw Face, and wait for me somewhere below the rock on the Rio Bravo.” The old trapper shook his head forebodingly. “Blamed ef I like sich a by guess an’ by gosh way 0 plannin’, Buffler,” he muttered. “Ye may be gittin’, yer- self inter a hard row o’ stumps, with Cayuse an’ me not doin’ ary thing ter help ye.” “We can't plan very accurately, pard,” reasoned the scout, “but if I’m not here when you and Cayuse get back, you'll know very well that I’ve had a good ex- cuse for leaving; and then, if you round up on the ‘dirk had penetrated the outer shell. BELL STORIES, as Bfavo, below the rock, I'll see that you and Cayuse have plenty to do in case there’s any excitement.” Saddles had not been removed. Nomad pulled up Hide-rack’s cinches and Cayuse tightened the band that held his riding blanket in place on Navi’s back. There- upon the two mounted and in silence took their separate ways out of the ravine. The scout waited until they had vanished, then drew up Bear Paw’s saddle cinches, coiled the picket rope and fastened it at the saddle cantle, and led Bear Paw to the door of the cabin. Before he left to climb the ravine bank and go on watch himself, the scout felt as though he wanted an- other look at Old Weasel’s home. The dirk in the log seemed a queer circumstance. Why had the lone Mexican put the knife in that po- sition? It was easy to understand why he had left it—the coming of the scout and his pards had given him no time to recover the blade and make his es- cape. The question that bothered the scout was why the dirk had been embedded in the squared log. : At first blush, it seemed.a trifling incident; but the Mexican, if he was really a member of the disbanded horde, would not have been in a trifling mood. Reéntering the cabin, Buffalo Bill stepped to the log from which he had drawn the dirk. It looked like all the other logs that composed the cabin walls—and yet, there was a difference. The dingy whitewash, contiguous to the, faintly marked slit left. by the embedded blade, bore the un-_ mistakable marks of fingers. Why had alien hands concerned themselves with that particular log? Buffalo Bill thoughtfully picked up the dirk from the window sill where he had laid it, and once again forced the point into the slit in the log. As he pressed against it with his breast, the blade suddenly yielded and ran in up to the hilt, A light dawned upon him.. The log was hollow! The Was the hollow log a cache? And had the Mexican been trying to get into the secret cache when interrupted by the approach of the scout and his pards? Bending the dirk at a sharp angle, the scout pulled backward. A foot of the seemingly solid log came away with the knife, revealing a secret compartment inside the log. The cover of the compartment had been cunningly fitted, showing no lines to suggest that it was merely a panel. The interior of the little cache lay entirely open to the scout’s eyes. It contained just one object, and the scout pulled it jingling forth and held it up for examina- tion. It was a chain shirt, a garment constructed entirely of very small steel rings dexterously interwoven. So fine was the texture that the metal shirt was almost as: pli- able as cloth in the scout’s hands. | “Well, well!’ muttered the scout. “So this was the secret of Old Weasel’s immunity from murderous bul- lets launchal at him by the Indians! An ancient con- trivance, but it seemed to serve his purpose well, Prob- ably Old Weasel would have been alive to-day if be had taken this bullet-proof shirt with him when he went out to help that wagon train through the hostile country.” a ‘THE BUFFALO ‘Buffalo Bill started to carry the shirt closer to the door, in order to examine it in a better light, when a chorus of yells echoed from without, followed by a sput- ter of rifles, a smashing of window glass, and a thump - of lead against the logs. ‘With a snort, Bear Paw charged full-tilt through the Open door, almost knocking the scout off his feet. Re- covering himself quickly, the scout leaped to the door, closed it, and shot the heavy iron bolt. He felt that he understood the situation. The Mexi- can who had been forced away from the cabin had had companions closer at hand than the scout supposed. The fellow, getting these men to come back with him, possession. A grim laugh escaped the scout’s lips. As near as 1h he could determine, by a hasty look through the win- at dows, there were six half-breeds and Mexicans in the “surround.” Two of these were on the right-hand bank of the ravine, two were on the left, and there was one above the cabin and another below. All were mounted, and all were armed: with rifles. “We'll not let those scoundrels keep us bottled up- in this cabin, Bear Paw,” breathed the scout. ‘“There’s business for us outside, and we'll get out.” He stepped toward the door with the idea of un- bolting it, mounting Bear Paw and making a dash down the ravine, past the one man on guard in that direction. On his way to the door, his. foot struck against the chain shirt, which he had dropped on hearing the yells and the shots. “YI steal Old Weasel’s thunder,” he thought, peeling off his coat. “It may serve me well during my dash down the ravine.” The steel garment fitted the scout as well as it must have fitted the slain hunter, and it was so light and pliable as not to interfere in the least with his move- ments, After buttoning his coat over it, the scout caught Bear Paw by the bits and passed to the door. “Now, old sport,” said he to the horse, “events have begun to happen rather more quickly than I supposed, but we're looking for Comanches, and not for Mexi- cans and breeds. Now for a plunge toward the Arrow- head !” \ He pulled the bolt and opened the door. The two men on the opposite hilltop sent bullets into the logs. Their rifles were muzzle-loaders, and while they were busy ramming home another charge, the intrepid scout “hurried Bear Paw into the open, ‘swung to the saddle, and was off down the ravine like a whirlwind. \ CHAPTER IX. OUT OF A TRAP. Buffalo Bill’s enemies numbered six, but two of them were reloading their rifles, and there were only four to fire at him during his dash down the ravine. He put his trust in Bear Paws swift hoofs, hoping to ride so fast _ that he and the horse would prove an uncertain tar- get. Once out of range, he knew he could easily dis- tance the scoundrels if they attempted’ to pursue him. He was not a quarter of the way to the first turn in the gash before the reports of two guns, sounding seemed determined to oust Buffalo Bill and restime BILL STORIES. es almost as one, came from the top of the bank on the left. The bullets caused no damage, and did not” even pass very close. There was a man the scout had to pass, and he jerked one of the army revolvers from his belt and flung up his hand. The Mexican, his horse drawn back against the wall of the ravine, tossed his rifle to his shoulder. Al-— though he was quick, the scout was a shade ahead of him and pressed the trigger. . By one of those weird blunders of chance which now and again happen and defy explanation, the hammer of the army revolver clicked down upon ‘the cylinder with- out exploding the cartridge. ( \ Before the scout could try again, a puff of white smoke arose from.the muzzle of the’ Mexican’s gun. The scoundrel was firing from rest and had every aid to accurate shooting. As the rifle barked viciously, the sound was taken up by another report from behind the scout. Buffalo Bill, between two fires, had been the target for a couple of bullets launched from different directions. aX He felt a shock as though some one had struck him with a clinched fist full in the breast. He was thrown a little sideways in his saddle. As he recovered his seat, he saw the Mexican in front of him drop his rifle and pitch headlong from his horse. The amazed scout slashed on, hardly daring to credit his senses. Never had such a freak of fortune come his way before. , ‘ The man in front of him had fired pointblank. Old Weasel’s chain shirt had turned the bullet, but the fierce impact of the lead had thrown the scout a little side- ways—just enough so that he escaped the bullet fired at him from behind; and that bullet, launched with deadly intent, had not failed of a victim. Sweeping on it had pierced the companion of the marksman! It was one of the queerest tangles of gun play Buf- falo Bill had ever witnessed. He realized that to Old Weasel’s armored shirt he owed his life twice over, and congratulated himself for investigating the log wall of the cabin, The five scoundrels who were left had taken up -the pursuit, but the scout’s speed was so much greater than theirs that he could afford to laugh at their attempt to overhaul him. Sweeping out of the gash, he turned Bear Paw sharply to the left and went plunging along the creek bank. He was moving in the direction of Nah-hoos’ camp, and also toward the point where Little Cayuse had been sent to watch the country for Comanche “signs.” The sudden turn of events made it necessary for the scout to warn his pards against returning to the cabin. If the Mexicans and half-breeds remained at the log hut after the escape of the scout, Cayuse and ~ Nomad, unless warned, might blunder into their hands, Who these rascals could be the scout was at a loss to understand. Certainly they must be men who had belonged to the Horde of Hermosa, but if they were of the party that was to join Quiller and Crooked Foot why had they not fared north in the direction of Squaw Face? : The horde, just previous to its scattering, had split into two factions, the Indians and some of the half- breeds espousing the leadership of Wah-choos-bay, and _ the whites, Mexicans,‘and a few more of the mixed bloods casting their lots with El Chico. ~*~ a iki edb Sassen! nes elcy athe enue ieee ai, eho painn haha aka = a srs ote met chtonntim ann Seated i ems i 2) et eR or IA Be ae Sanat ph ac BS ise hy ee let os ee ee, ~~ rome CY Ora ES NP in eT a Sn ee THE BUFFALO From this it would appear as though the scoundrels at the cabin, inasmuch as they were Mexicans and breeds, were of the El Chico contingent—and it was this scattered party Quiller was seeking to rally around Crooked. Foot and the Comanches. -Yet, if this were true, those men should have been on their way to the appointed meeting place with the red invaders. It was a problem the scout did not long puzzle over. The murderous trap laid by the scoundrels had been evaded, and there were other matters for Buffalo Bill to think about. As soon as he was positive that he had left his pur- suers hopelessly in the rear, he emerged from the tim- ber that bordered the creek and struck through the hilly country in the direction of the place where he hoped to locate the Piute boy. After finding Cayuse, the scout planned to, send him in a wide détour around the cabin for the purpose of finding Nomad and acquainting him with what had taken place in the ravine. 5 Being in hostile country, the scout was careful not to show himself any more than he could help. Keep- ing to the valleys and defiles, he made observations, from time to time, by dismounting and climbing to the top of a ridge or hill. Cayuse had been told to post himself on an eleva- “tion so that he could keep better watch for the in- yaders. Such a position would enable him and the scout to see each other at a considerable’ distance. The scout tried half a dozen times to locate Cayuse, but without effect. The last time he surveyed the country from a “rise” he located something else that caused his pulses to quicken. What he saw was a party of mounted Indians, but they were so far to the south it was impossible for him to tell whether they were Crows~or Comanches. There were seven or eight in the party, and they were making their way carefully northward, threading the seams and gashes and using every facility the country offered to keep themselves out of sight. . The scout’s plans perforce underwent a change. He would now have to. give over hunting for Cayuse until he determined the status of that party of mounted war- riors. He noted the course the red riders were taking and settled it in his mind that they. would pass. the foot of the uplift from which he was making his observa- TIONS, | o: 2 Sliding back down the slope to Bear Paw, the scout took the picket rope from the saddle cantle and, pass- ing a loop of it around the horse’s nose, drew it tight. This was to prevent the animal from scenting the In- dian cayuses and giving a whinner that might betray him and the scout to the Indians. Having finished this precautionaty work, Buffalo Bill again climbed to the top of the “rise’’ and screened him- self in a clump of bushes. Here he could see with- out being seen, and he patiently waited for the redskins tO pass. Five minutes later they trailed in single file past the place where the scout lay concealed. They were Co- manches, and there were seven of them. The man in the lead was a big, square-framed In- dian with as vicious a face as the scout had ever seen on a red man. It was the face of the torturer, the ie ak A a Si Pa BILL: STORIES. r CA killer, the plunderer. One’ of the swinging feet of the savage was. deformed. “Crooked Foot!” murmured the scout. Then his attention was caught: and held/ by an ob- ject that dangled from the front of the chiet’s elkhorn saddle. It was a long braid of red hair! “There’s the red medicine scalp, and no mistake,’ said Buffalo Bill to himself. “Quiller has turned it over to Crooked Foot, and the Comanche chief, now that he has. the totem, fears neither man nor fiend. But he’s pretty cautious in getting through the country, for all that he has the scalp. What’s become of Quiller ?” This was a question which the scout could not an- swer. However, there were only six Comanches with Crooked Foot, and this left twenty-three of his follow- ers to be accounted for. Quiller, it might be, was tak- ing the rest of the invaders north by another route. — “Tl have to leave Nomad and. Cayuse to shift for themselves,” though the scout, “and take the trail of those Comanches. After all, maybe the Mexicans and half-breeds won’t stay at Old Weasel’s cabin, and when Nomad and Cayuse go there to meet me they will not fall into any danger. My pards will be on the lookout, anyway, and even if the scoundrels are at the cabin, Nick and the Piute will probably evade them. There’s nothing else for me to do but to follow this trail while it’s hot. Crooked Foot has the red scalp, and it’s-my duty to get it away from him—if I can.” The scout went back down the hill, removed the rope muzzle from Bear Paw, and climbed into the saddle. He spurred to the top of the “rise” boldly and then down on the other side. The hoofs of the Comanché cayuses had left a clear trail in the soft earth and there was not the least diff- culty in picking it up. “Tl get that red scalp,” the scout declared to him- self, “if it’s a possible thing. Cayuse may have seen this gang. If he did, he’s making tracks for the cabin to tell me: and when he finds I’m not at the cabin, it’s a ten to one shot that he pikes out after the party himself. . Maybe I'll meet the boy before the trail is run out.” The scout was destined to meet Little Cayuse, but not in the way he was hoping for. CHAP LER vx; A LONESOME TRAIL. Shadowing enemies through the wilderness is lone- some work, particularly if it is done single-handed. Even the spice of danger does not materially detract from the lonely feeling of the tracker. A companion, ‘jron-nerved and primed with plains lore, is a relief when ways and means are to be discussed, probabilities gone over in council, or a desperate stand to be made in case the trailers are discovered. The scout missed the game old trapper. Usually old Nomad was side by side with him, or close behind, when the king of scouts.was facing such work as en- gaged him now. The Comanches were proceeding northward toward For every two miles Squaw Face by a devious course. 16 JHE -BUPFALO they gained in their northward journey, they lost at least a mile through the angles of gullies and valleys by which they traveled. The scout timed his own gait to the pace of the red- skins, maintaining a safe distance, yet not dropping“ so far behind that he stood in danger of losing touch with the party in the lead. For two hours the slow advance of the Comanches _ kept up. Once Buffalo Bill barely escaped detection. Lifting his eyes from the trail, he saw an Indian on the brow of a low hill, evidently, searching the country with his eyes. : This redskin was one of the Comanches, and Crook- ed Foot’s party must have halted to give the warrior a chance to look for some other. party they were expect- ing to join. | Buffalo Bill backed Bear Paw out of sight améng the rocks and waited until the Indian had descended to his companions. . “They’re looking for Quiller and the rest, I suppose,” thought the scout, “or perhaps they’re afraid of soldiers and are making sure they won’t be interfered with.” A grim smile wreathed about his lips. “It can’t be that Crooked Foot has unlimited faith in the red scalp,” he: muttered. “If he had, he wouldn’t be so careful.” -Half an hour after the Comanche had ascended the hill the scout came within a hair’s breadth of getting himself into fresh trouble. The trail led through a rocky passage, full of crooks and turns and plentifully sprinkled with immense bowlders. u He was close to one zefthe turns when Bear Paw threw up his head and sniffed. Instantly the scout pulled off his hat, leaned forward, and drew the crown of his hat over the~horse’s nose. The next moment he dis- mounted and, for the second time, twisted the picket rope into a muzzle; then, creeping forward, he investi- gated the situation in front. The Comanches had come to a’halt by a spring that trickled from the rocks and formed a™small ‘pool be- neath it. The cayuses were bunched together and the seven savages were sprawled on the stones in the sun,- rolling cigarros—a trick learned from the Apaches. The Indians were about twenty feet from their ponies, “and the red scalp was plainly under the scout’s eyes. He wondered if he could execute a dash, snatch the scalp from the elkhorn saddle, and get away unscathed? It was’a mad notion, but.the scout reflected that he still had on the chain shirt of Old Weasel’s. It had served. him in good stead in the ravine and it might protect him again. : ‘ There was possible injury to Bear Paw to be con- sidered, however. If the horse was wounded it would be all day with the scout. While Buffalo Bill, peering carefully around a bowlder, was watching the Comanches and turning the’ reckless scheme over in his mind, Crooked Foot robbed him of the long chance that might have been his for securing the totem. iy Getting up, the chief limped to his pony, removed the red scalp and carried it back to his red followers. Then followed. a ceremony so rank with superstition that the scout.could hardly suppress a derisive laugh. One by one the warriors stood erect while Crooked Foot gravely rubbed the scalp over their breasts and backs. , BILL STORIES. / ePhat's “tera charm against bullets,’ muttered the scout. “Crooked Foot is making his warriors proof against flying lead. A chain shirt coppers that bet with ground to spare.” Having finished with the warriors, the chief pro- ceeded to tub himself with the totem. The reverence with which he handled the scalp would have been ludi- crous, but for his deadly earnest manner. With the last rub of the scalp over his breast, Crooked Foot held the totem aloft and said something in a tone of triumph. The other six Comanches, jerking their — scalping knives from their girdles, brandished them; then, like a pack of unleashed wolves, they dashed for their ponies, jumped to their backs, and resumed their journey northward. “This lonesome trail is full of pitfalls,” ruminated the scout, pulling the coil of rope off Bear Paw’s nose and lifting himself into the saddle. “If I’m not careful, ’m liable to run full tilt into that bunch “of red fanatics, and instead of getting a scalp away from them they’ll take one away from me. Id give a month’s pay if I had Cayuse or Nomad along.” The trail continued to follow the defiles and was rapidly nearing the Bravo. Buffalo Bill began to grow worried, ; : If he secured the scalp, it must be before Crooked Foot. joined the rest of the invaders and the remnant of El Chico’s gang. But how was that to be accom- plished ? Ae It would not be long, now, until the party under Crooked Foot was reinforced by the one under Quiller, and not much longer until these reunited invaders formed a junction with the last of the horde. If it was impossible to secure the scalp from this small party, it would be doubly impossible to get hold of it after the numbers of the gang had reached their maximum: As the scout rode on he cudgeled his brain for some move, no matter hdw reckless, which would enable him to accomplish the object he had in mind. He could think of nothing except a bold dash against the Comanches, a single-handed attack on the chief, and then a rush for freedom with his life hanging on Bear Paw’s swift heels. — Such a manceuvre would have been the height of folly, and Buffalo Bill knew it. To jump in among seven bloodthirsty Comanches, even though armored -in_a chain shirt, could have been nothing less than sui- cidal. \ But the scout was rapidly becoming desperate. If he had any. success in securing the scalp it could only be by some daring move befofe the invaders came to- gether. And everything depended on that scalp! Colonel Strong believed it, and the scout, having witnessed the respect and veneration fh deluded Comanches had for the totem, was now positive of it. The business of getting the scalp was up to him, and if he failed the Crow country -would be the scene of Indian depredations such as they had witnessed in the palmiest days of-the horde. : yoke Then, once more, the scout yearned for the presence of his pards. The lonesome trail took on another as- pect—its very lonesomeness seemed to spell bitter disap- pointment for the scout’s designs. ® ¥ < in: as fir Cc hi: me hi: an Ce dis th of to: ho the Dit th: Cc ch c 7 SO. hil SC ith nie LF ad as )W id ‘scout. , The lookout was shouting something to Crooked Foot, 4 ~ and Crooked Foot was replying. The scout had some bition. _ chances on the other three. solve took possession of the scout, “I can take chances was. doing the signaling, but Pretently Buffalo Bill saw a Comanche again climb- ing a hill. He got himself and Bear Paw out of sight as quickly as he could and waited for the lookout to finish his observation and retrace his way to the waiting Comanches. ae But the Indian did not come down at once. Shading his_eyes from the sun, he stared westward. After a moment of steady gazing, he whirled about, looked down ‘toward his companions at thte foot of the hill, and waved his arms. “The red has discovered something!” muttered the “Ts it the rest of the gang under Quiller ?”’ Comanche at his command, but he was too far-away to distinguish the words that passed pe veee the chief and the warrior. The harangue over with, ‘the warrior whirled about and continued to toss his arms, his face to the west. “He’s trying to attract the attention of somebody,” thought the scout. “That means,” he inferred heavily, “that the invaders are to be reinforced by more Co- ‘manches and breeds ; it means, too, likely enough, that it will take a good-sized detachment of the United States army,to recover that red-haired totem. What’s .be- come of that thing my old pard, Nomad; refers to as Cody Loe Whoosh! It looks like a case of up-sticks with me.’ ; ‘He continued to isk the active redskin on the top of the hill. The fellow was going through all the con- tortions of a sun dance. Backeand forth he moved, hopping up and down and waving his arms. 39 “Tf any troopers were loose in this section,’ muttered the scout, “they could hardly fail to witness that exhi- But there are no soldiers around. I wish about three more of the gang would go up there and help the Comanche in that pantomime. Perhaps,’ 9) and. a quick’ re- anyway. The reds will be watching the man on the hill. If they have dismounted, and if their ponies are at a distance from them, I may be able to nail that scalp and get away with it.” Dropping out of the saddle, the scout stealthily pushed his*way forward on foot. At a distance of a hundred yards he reached a point where he could study the six Comanches from behind a rock. Their attention was concentrated on the watrior who ney were all on their horses and bunched together. Buffalo Bill realized that another desperate hope had been blasted. Returning disgustedly to his horse, he climbed in the saddle and continued to keep his eyes on the look- Oi, At last’ the Comanche., seemed... to lave: suc- ceeded, for he gave over his contortions and turned THE SURPPALO I’d be willing to take - BLEL STORES, 17 witk a triumphant yell to his comrades at the foot of the hill. “That settles it,” grumbled the scout. “I'll have twenty a ee the villains to deal with now, and The words faded into silence, and he straightened in -his saddle, one hand leaping to the butt of a revolver. A form had stirred at the edge of the little patch of chaparral in which he had taken refuge. A straggler from Crooked Foot’s party, ran his thought, Yet he hesitated to’ shoot for fear of drawing the Comanches in that direction. It was well that the scout held his fire. His hand had hardly touched his revolver before the form that had attracted his notice arose into full view. An ex- clamation of amazement fell from the scout’s lips, his hand slipped from the revolver, and he fell back in his saddle. “Two-whistles ! “ea % By George!” CHAPTER XI. TWO-W HISTLES HAS A PLAN, The half-breed was stoical under the white man’s sur- prise. Pushing toward Buffalo Bill he at last came to a halt at his stirrup. “Pa-e-has-ka heap big chief,’ grunted Two-whistles. “T’m not feeling as big as usual,’ answered the scout. “That bunch. of seven Comanches make a . tougher proposition than I can\go against. But what are you : doing here, Two-whistles ?” “No got time for much powwow. Heap danger, Pa- e-has-ka. Crooked Foot find um band under Quiller. Quiller’s gang come this- ae You follow Two-whis- tles. We get plenty scarce.’ “But, I say, Crooked Foot has the red scalp and- “No get um medicine scalp now. You follow hee whistles.” The half-breed turned and druached his way through the bushes. Buffalo Bill had faith in the half-breed. He ‘knew, too, that the man was as anxious to have the red scalp taken from Crooked Foot as the scout was to get it. Evidently the half-breed had something up his buck- skin sleeve, and the scout spurred after him. Back down the little gulch for a hundred yards they moved, then into a small gully that opened off on the left. Fifty feet up the gully they came to Two-whistles’ horse, and there they halted. “Now,” said Two-whistles calmly, “we palaver heap plenty.” < - ; “Tell me where you came from, Two-whistles, and why you're here.” Buffalo Bill swung his left knee around the horn of his : : toward the gulch. That point saddle and threw a look in the gully, he found, was w ell screened by rocks and bushes from any passers-by in the larger defile. ‘Me sabe you mebbyso have trouble gitting medicine hair,” said Two-whistles. “On way to Custer with ten- tente me ketch um trail seven ponies. ‘Tell teniente Crooked Foot with Injuns, me follow um. Temente ‘ride all same to Custer; me trail-Comanches. Bymby, Pa-e-has-ka pick up trail, too. Me follow Pa-e-has-ka, Him big chief, you bet.” “You're a man of sand and sagacity, Two-whistles,’ averred the scout. ‘“‘Perhaps, with your help, we can get that red medicine scalp before the other detachment of- invaders join Crooked Foot’s party?” “No ketch um,’ declared Two-whistles. “Now’s our best chance to do something,” persisted the scout. “When the two parties of Buen come to- gether there'll be too many against us,’ Two-whistles leaned against his cayuse and fell into a brown study. “Where Pa-e-has-ka’s white pards?’ he asked ab- ruptly. Buffalo Bill explained what had happened in the ra- vine. Something like admiration filtered over the mot- tled face of the half-breed. “You plenty fine chief, all same,’ said he. “You ketch um medicine scalp all right. Not now, bymby.” “How do you figure that out? If we can’t get hold of the scalp while there are only seven against us, how can we do it when we have twenty or thirty to buck against? This is a time for clear thinking, Two-whis- tles, and for quick, definite action.” ‘Me sabe,” agreed Two-whistles. with half bloods and full bloods, make heap big You no fight whole gang to ketch um scalp, Pa-e- has-ka ?” DS “T don’t?” echoed the scout. ‘Then how am I to get the totem?” “When gang come together then Quiller have powwow with Crooked Foot. They palaver alone. No let um gang hear. They make plan to work trubble all through Crow country. Ugh! «When they Au powwow, you ketch um scalp, fight only two. Sabe?’ “I can sabe your notion, easy enough, Two-whistles,”’ frowned the scout, “but it looks like taking a mighty long chance.” “Better fight two as heap many,” breed. “How do you know the chief and Quiller will pull off for a quiet talk? Are you guessing about that?” “No make um guess, Pa-e-has-ka.. When Quiller meet Crooked Foot first time, they talk about secret pa- laver before they join Hermosa’s men.” “Well, the invaders are to join the remnant of the horde to-day.” “Quiller him come party. commented the half- eo THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. ot “Then Crooked Foot and Quiller make um powwow plenty soon. We follow, watch, you ketch um chance for red medicine scalp.” “T reckon that’s the only thing to be done,” the scout, but not with much hope that the vague plan would work out successfully. “Me, I want red medicine scalp took from Crooked Foot,” growled Two-whistles, his eyes glowing like live coals, “Him totem make trouble for Comanches. Meb- byso I save Comanche people, and we all go back to Comanche county.” The scout studied the half-breed curiously. The fel- low was certainly a revelation of the best side of a mixed-blood’s character. And this in the face of the tradition that no good ever came of mixed blood. agreed “You're a regular James Fenimore Cooper redskin,” remarked the scout. “There’s more right-down sentiment and solid worth in you than in any other half-breed I ever met up with before.” “No sabe,” grunted Two-whistles. ~“T reckon you don’t sabe, but it’s the truth all the same, whether you know it or not. The fact that you don’t know it is an item in your favor. How are you going to explain your reason for breaking away from the invaders when Crooked Foot asks you a “Me tell um me got lost,’ grinned the half-breed. ‘Well, I guess yourcan work it; but see here, ‘Two- whistles, if you stay with Crooked Foot’s tribe you've got to hide your hand pretty cleverly now. The chief must be kept in the dark as to what you are doing to help the white chief at Custer.” “Me sabe.” “Tf Crooked you 2 “He no find um,’ broke in Two-whistles. “Me take um money, buy good gun, give um to Crooked Foot. He Foot finds that fifty dollars about like um good gun plenty fine.” “There’s method in your work,” agreed the scout. “I only hope the rest of your plan works out, and that we are able to connect with that red medicine——’” A erunch of horses’ hoofs was heard in the gulch. Quick as a flash Two-whistles threw a blanket over his pony’s head and put his bare hands around Bear Paw’s muzzle. “Go look,” he whispered to Buffalo Bull. come.” The scout slipped to the ground and stealthily made his way toward the mouth of the gully.. Some of the riders had already passed, but he was able to count nearly a score of Comanches and half-breeds, trailing northward with eda in the lead. “See who They were a vicious-looking outfit, particularly the half-breeds, well armed and Adtevatly well ‘mounted. Some of them were undoubtedly of the party that had Dey Ce Ne Rt i eat Reh ita } i ie tried from W whis aner we trouk Quill ee Lie £ hung El € ough ok ey Quill aE “N Why el join Croo oe that cisely TS wow “ee come Ty starte him. oned ceede Tw close manc lookis wave Ha breed ~doom work achie at. he looke he wz WI saw | a tles. time \ oe scout Th ae d u ul ire y : | doom. NS tried to waylay old Nomad on his way. to Last Chance from the camp of Nah-hoos. When they had passed, Buffalo Bill returned to Two- whistles and reported. The half-breed’s eyes snapped angrily at mention of Quiller. ~@ Him got bad heart,” he growled; “try make heap trouble for Comanches. Comanches’ do work for Quiller, Quiller get the good. Me kill um, mebbyso.” “Don’t do that, Two-whistles,’ answered the scout. “Tf Quiller can be captured and taken to Custer he’ll be hung by the white soldiers, along with Hermosa and El Chico. That’s the fate he deserves, and the fate he ought to have.” | “Ugh!” grunted the half-breed. “Where and when do you think Crooked Foot and Quiller will have their powwow?” “This side Squaw Face.” “Now’s a good time for them to hatch their plots. Why will they wait?” “They wait, Pa-e-has-ka, to find out if El Chico’s men join Comanches. Mexican gang send out runner when Crooked Foot gets close to meeting place.” Two- whistles spoke with such absolute conviction that the scout-was forced to believe that he knew pre- cisely what he was talking about. “Shall we trail after the gang and wait for the pow- wow to come off?” oo you bet. come.’ Two-whistles climbed to the back of his pony and started back toward the gulch. The scout trailed after him. At the mouth of-the gulch the half-breed beck- oned to the scout to wait. Drawing rein, the scout pro- ceeded to watch his ‘half-breed helper. I go on, look. If all safe, then you Two-whistles ambled slowly up the gulch until he was close to the point where the scout had seen the Co- manches rounded up. ~After halting for a space and looking around him critically, Two-whistles turned and waved his hand. Had there been anything treacherous about the half- breed, the scout would have been ‘asily lured to his But Two-whistles was the clear quill. He was working, with all the strength of his rugged will, to achieve a purpose that had the welfare of his tribe at heart. The scout, in that, was helping him. He looked at the matter in that light, rather than as though he was helping the scout. When Buffalo Bill came alongside the half-breed he saw that the gulch was clear of the invaders. - “They travel on to Squaw Face,” observed Two-whis- tles. ‘We follow, watch—all same weazel. time come,.bymby, then Pa-e-has-ka do big work. “The time can’t come any too quick to suit me,” the scout answered, They traveled in single file, Two-whistles ahead and THE BUFFALO When right - BILL STORIES. : “19 his little black eyes constantly roving restlessly on all sides. The trail was not so lonesome for the scout as it had been; but he was still far from feeling sure of ulti- mate success in the matter of securing the red medicine scalp. CHAPTER XIL. awe TROUBLE, Ae The renegades proceeded onward through the rough country in the direction of \Squaw Face, but they changed their course alittle, shortly after the two parties had effected a junction, and pushed toward the Rio Bravo. As the scout figured the course, Crooked Foot and Quiller were planning to meet the remnant of the horde on the river bank south of the big rock. _ There was no difficulty in trailing the invaders. Two- whistles showed a masterly skill in stopping at the right time to avoid being seen when the band halted. But . there were not many halts. had his followers all together he seemed eager to gain the coveted spot where a union was to be formed with the remaining members of Hermosa’s gang. Naturally there could be no secret powwow between Crooked Foot and Quiller while the gang was on the march and while the leaders were surrounded by war- riors and breeds. It was-only when a halt of some duration was called that_an extended council would be indulged in. ‘ “What’s the use of‘a powwow between Quiller and Crooked Foot, Two-whistles?” asked the scout. “Didn't Crooked Foot learn, at the time he talked with Quiller before, just what they were to do with what's left of Hermosa’s Horde?” “Quiller him all same fox,” said Two-whistles; “him . tell Crooked Foot little, but not much. They have long palaver soon, you bet. Me sabe plenty good.” It was easy for the scout to understand this. Quiller was seeking to exploit the Comanches for his own benefit. When he had raided, and burned, and plun- déxed,. with Crooked Foot and the last of the horde to help, he.would take the loot and leave his redskin aides to bear the consequences. “I should think Crooked Foot would be sharp enough to see through Fox Quiller,” observed the scout. “Crooked Foot him blind. Him got red medicine scalp and him think HobOgy fool him ne) totem. Ugh! Heap plenty foolishness.” The last stretch of country ae the invaders from the Rio Bravo «was level and unsuited to the purpose of easy shadowing. Behind the brow of the last hill the scout and the halfi-breed halted. Under their eyes the stragglifg line of Indians and half-breeds Now that Crooked Foot ~ 20 THE BUFFALO trickled across the barren level and vanished into the -tim- ber of the river bottom. To the north, a short distance, arose the ridge whose river face, steep and high, had gained the name of “Squaw Face.” - “Rio Bravo heap high,” muttered Two-whistles. “All the creeks and rivers are high,” said the scout. “Tis up to us, Two-whistles, to cross that stretch and see what the invaders are doing in the woods.” “T eave um caballos here,’ counseled Two-whistles. “Heap safer we go afoot to river.” ’ ‘Upon reflection the scout perceived the wisdom of this advice. By proceeding onward afoot they could screen their crossing of the barren level much better than if they were mounted. Two-whistles hobbled his cayuse and Buffalo Bill pick- eted Bear Paw, hoping that no straggler would happen along and take the horse while he and the half-breed were in the timber. Two-whistles must have divined his anxiety on the horse’s account, for he turned to re- mark : “Caballos heap safe, Pa-e-has-ka. All Injuns and breeds over ‘round Squaw Face. No Injuns or breeds left by here. You come.” Crossing the level was slow work. The scout and the half-breed traveled, for the most part, on all fours like a couple of skulking coyotes. Wherever a bit of protection showed itself they availed themselves of it. In half an hour they were in the timber. “This is the first time,’ the scout thought, “that I ever went hunting trouble with a half-breed. I reckon, as near as 1 can figure it, that the hunt, so far as the trouble end is concerned, is going to be mighty suc- cessful. From a distance, as Buffalo Bill and Two-whistles lay concealed in the undergrowth, they could hear 4 jab- ber of voices and sounds of splashing in the swollen stream. “They make um camp, water caballos,” muttered Two- whistles. “Stay here, Pa-e-has-ka; me go find out about powwow.’ The scout was well content to let Two-whistles do that part of the work. He was a breed, and belonged with Crooked Foot. If he was discovered by the eagle- eyed invaders he could doubtless shuffle himself clear of his difficulties with @ ready tongue; but if the scout ‘had done the reconnoitring, and been discovered, there would have been nothing for it but to fight and run—with every chance of securing the red scalp gone glimmering. Two-whistles was gone for nearly an hour—so long, in fact, that Buffalo Bill had begun to think he had been captured. There was a gleam of satisfaction in the half- breed’s eyes as he dropped into the ‘bushes at the scout’s side. “Buenos!” he said. “Quiller make powwow with BILL STORIES. Crooked Foot, They all same heap close to other In- juns, but mebbyso you ketch um scalp.” : “Where are they?” inquired Buffalo” Bill, his’ blood mounting as his chance to capture the totem approached. “Come ‘long after Two-whistles,” whispered the half- breed. “You feel able to fight um Quiller and Crooked Foot ?” “1 never felt more like going up against two scoun- drels of their stripe,” returned the scout promptly. “Pa-e-has-ka heap fine warrior,” asserted Two-whis-— ) 1 tles. “You got um small gun?” OES. “Buenost You no kill um Crooked Foot?” “Not if I can help it. If the powwow is going on very close to the main body of invaders, Two-whistles, it won’t be safe to do any shooting.” “No shoot um Crooked Foot—him b’long my people; me no want um killed. Shoot Quiller plenty—him big rascal, no good.” Having thus expressed himself, Two-whistles laid a si- lent course through the timber, hugging the patches of bushes™that lay along his course. Judging from the sounds that reached him from the invaders’ camp, the scout inferred that they passed the main body of the renegades. Presently Two-whistles changed his course and struck out directly toward the flooded river. Then, abruptly, he halted. “Pa-e-has-ka, look!” he whispered. “Si” the scout answered, following the half-breed’s pointing finger with his eyes. “Vou see um two cottonwoods, huh?” oN Gee. ~ “Cottonwoods got um alder bushes at bottom.” “T see the trees and the bushes.” “Quiller and Crooked Foot on other side bushes. Now you go get um scalp. Two-whistles heap sorry he no go ‘long. You have plenty hard time, mebbyso, but Two-whistles him keep friend with Comanches.” “T understand your position, Two-whistles,” said the scout, ‘and if. 1 have only the chief and the white renegade to deal with, you can be sure I'll lift that red scalp. Are you sure Crooked Foot has the scalp with him?” A sarcastic grunt came from Two-whistles. _ “Him keep scalp with him all time,’ he answered. “All blame foolishness.. Ugh!” Leaving the half-breed to shift for himself, the scout faced his own work resolutely and, dropping to hands and knees, wrigeled forward toward the cottonwoods and the alders. He heard the churning of the flood waters as he ad- vanced, but, over the sound, there drifted to his ears the faint mumble of voices. The mumbling grew in volume as he covered foot after foot of his venturesome course. At last, still un- Wal app poit (TOY unt Foc bef had sho Stti for thre ech ae Bi of he he les he WwW no it he 1at alp ed. UE ids nd id- the dot AS THE BUFEALO discovered, he came to the bushes, peered through them, and saw Quillé®’and Crooked Foot. They were sitting on a log between the cottonwoods and the edge of the swiftly flowing water. A pipe was passing back and forth between them, and the red scalp lay across the chief's knees. The totem, it may be, was there to inspire him with wisdom in dealing with this tricky white man. 4 Buffalo Bill, after peering at the two men for a space, began softly to make his way around the bushes. If he could come upon the chief and the white renegade from behind, his chances of success would be increased a hundredfold. “The blood of Fox Quiller is warm toward the Co- manches,” the white renegade was saying. “I sent word to Crooked Foot that I would get the red medicine scalp for him. Did I keep my word?” “My white brother has kept his word,” said the chief gravely. “Then, when I tell Crooked Foot that there is much yellow gold to be had from white miners in the gulches, more ponies than he. and his braves can drivé south to their own country, more Crow. scalps than they can hang in their lodges, will he not also believe me?” “Crooked Foot takes the word of his white brother in good faith, The red scalp makes the blood of the Comanches hot for the war trail. If we did not have the medicine scalp we would go back to our lodges in the south, but no harm can come to us while the medi- cine scalp is in the hands of the Comanches.” “These are wise words, Crooked. Foot. who will join us near Squaw Face are brothers of the Comanches; they will fight with them, and. for them, and we will all get much plunder.” “The men who are to join us had once Hermosa for their chief,’ scowled Crooked Foot, “and it was Her- ~ mosa.who came, like a coyote in the night, and took the medicine scalp from Crooked Foot’s lodge.” ‘What Hermosa has done was not done by Hermosa’s warriors,’ expostulated Quiller, “or——” The scout, although he had continued his cautious approach, had heard all this. Unseen he had reached a point directly behind Quiller and the chief. The time for action had come, and suddenly he started erect. Not until that moment had he been heard. Both Crooked Foot and Quiller started as though they would turn, but before they could shift their positions, Buffalo Bill’s. fists had struck out sight and leit, straight from the shoulder. Quiller was knocked from the log, and the chief, stunned and dazed, fell sidewise. Buffalo Bill reached for the scalp, got it in his hand, and whirled and darted through the timber. At the same instant a wild yell broke from the chief, echoing loudly through the woods The men. BILL >STORIES. ot: CHAPTER x Vv. A LEAP FOR LIFE. The scout had worked through Two-whistles’ pro- gramme in a way that surprised\and delighted him. The half-breed, it was apparent, had known his ground thor- oughly and had piloted the scout along the only course whereby suecess was possible. The red medicine scalp had been secured. That, per- haps, had been the easiest part of the work—easy, at least, as compared with the task which the scout now faced. To get clear of the swarm of Indians and half- breeds was the next step. Buffalo Bills vague plans comprehended a dodging about in the timber until the enemy was thrown off his track, then a rush across level ground to the place where Bear Paw had been left. Once he was in the sad- dle, with Bear Paw under him, he could bid defiance’ to every redskin in that part of the country. The direction of the scout’s flight lay up the Rio Bravo directly toward Squaw Rock. He did not intend to go very far toward the rock, for, if he did, he was sure to fall in with some of the horde, Just at that mo- ment, however, that course was the only one that lay open to him. There was a tremendous commotion among the in- vaders. Wild yells were tossed back and forth in an- swer to the. pandemonium raised by the chief and the scout could hear a patter of hoofs drumming closer and closer. He had hoped he might be able to pick up a horse, but had discovered that the animals had not been tethered along the path he had been forced to take. From the noise behind him, which was growing in volume with nerve-racking swiftness, the scout knew the Comanches were almost upon him, also that. they «had cut off his retreat from the timber to the open country that separated him from Bear Paw. Taking to the river was out of the question. In order to gain time, he climbed into a cottonwood. Hardly was he hidden among the tree’s branches when the foremost of the pursuers flashed by. Crooked Foot, furious as an unleashed demon, was in the van, lar- ruping his pony and howling savage orders to his braves. The eyes of the Indians were on the ground, or fixed straight ahead. They did not look up, and the first rush of pursuit flickered past the scout and left him tem- porarily with the power to move in any direction he thought safest. Still with his mind circling about Bear Paw, he darted toward the edge of the timber; but, when he reachel a place that gave him a view of the open level, he saw at once that Comanche cunning had foiled him. THialt oo a THE BUFFALO ~ a dozen armed warriors were <..ting their mounts like statues, guarding the whole length of the timber line from the rendezvous to the bottom of the hill leading upward to Squaw Face. The scout was in a quandary. It would be some time before he could reach Bear: Paw, that was certain. He could not leave the timber and take to the level ground, and it was impossible for him to remain where he was. The tnd who had raced nae him wae whe was in the tree were coming back from the foot of Squaw Face, beating up the woods canetnly and thoroughly as they came. For the scout to remain where hé was meant capture. Yet where could he go? Then, in that critical moment, just as every hope seemed failing him, he recalled. a slide up the slope leading to Squaw Face—an open burrow’ down the hillside which he dnd old Nomad had successfully made use of a few days before. This gouge in the slope extended from the foot of the hill almost to the crest. To reach it, Buffalo Billi would have to cross a few yards of open ground. In all likelihood the Indians who were guarding the timber line would see him, but better that than that he should repfain where he was and fall into the hands of the: bloodthirsty. Crooked Foot. There was not-much time to debate the question, nd the scout, after thrusting the red scalp into the breast of his coat, seized a revolvér in each hand and leaped from the timber. He was seén on the instant by the Comanches watch- ing the edge of the woods. The red men split/the air with their yells and bored holes in it with their bul- lets. \Once more the scout felt a sharp blow on the chain shirt and knew that one of the bullets had not ene wild. He did not take time to look around, but raced at top speed for the brink of the slide. A-thunder of hoofs dinned his ears, but he reached the slide ahead of the pursuing Indians and tumbled into it with more haste than grace. On his knees at the bottom he looked ‘up to see one of the mounted Comanches drawing back a lance for a throw at him. \ Then his revolver spoke for the first time, and the redskin crumpled from his pony’s back, struck the edge of the slide,-and rolled down into it. If the scout could get that Indian cayuse he might yet distance his enemies until he could come close enough to change to Bear Paw. With this purpose in mind he started up the side of the gouge. ‘The pony, with a snort, turned away and ran for the timber. . Dropping back into the water-worn ditch, Buffalo Bill started at speed toward the top of the -hill. a He-had no idea what he would do when he reached BILL STORIES. the hill crest, but there was a hope at the back of his head that he could clear a mounted Warrior off his pony and use the animal to help him out of his desperate situation. fe He took the ascent like an antelope, the blood-curdling whoops of the Comanches urging him constantly to his best endeavor. The Indians were all around—seem- ingly all but on top of him, as well—but the scout pushed resolutely on up the gouge. >. Tf all elsé failed, he could take up a good position on the top of Squaw Face and sell his life as dearly as possible. But he was still indulging the faint hope that some rider would approach close enough so that he could. secure his pony. Unexpectedly—at least to the grant he gained the upper end of the slide. Pausing under the shallow bank of the cut, he looked back along the course he had covered. ‘The slide was fairly choked with mounted Indians, and the ground contiguous to the slide swarmed with them. Taunting yells went up from the Comanches’ throats. They were closing in and they had the redoubtable Pa- e-has-ka between them and the sheer wall of Squaw Face! The Long Hair’s retredt was cut off, and he could go only a little way farther; then, perforce, he must surrender or fall pierced with Comanche bullets. The scout understood exactly how the Indians felt. They were saving their ammunition until they should ‘find whether the scout preferred to surrender or be rid- dled with lead. Grimly he leaped over the edge-of the slide and ran to the top of the hill. There) pausing, he stared down- ward at. the tightening coil.. The ped ston had spread out in a semi-circle and, that formation, were steadily ascending the slope. Ene ing on the brink of the precipice, his back to the river, Buffalo Bill heard a cry from behind and below.- He turned and dr opped his eyes into the angry flood - the Bravo, In the ordinary stage of water there was a ao of bank between the foot of Squaw Face and the river’s edge; now, however, that strip. of bank had been cov- ered, and the waves of the Bravo licked the face of the cliff. But it was not this that caught and held the scout’s attention. Up stream, and floating swiftly downward with*the current, was a canoe. There was an Indian boy in the frail craft, and he was shaking his paddle and call-’ ing loudly. 3 | Little Cayuse! The scout had no time for any sensation like surprise, otherwise he would have been astounded at seeing the Piute boy there, at that moment. “Surrender, Buffalo Bill+ You’ ve got a’chance to — save your scalp, but you'll have to speak quick ! yo SFe Nis Oss ©; gu fo mc ea ire fre an cri the his lov hai tirr oO IQ d CDESC Di oy THE BUPEALO The king of scouts turned and cast a lock oyer his shoulder. For the first time he discovered that Fox Quiller was among those who were clean | in on him. aly Buffalo Bill thrust his revolvers into his belt. “Cody never surrenders,” he shouted, “least of all to a whelp like you!” A score of rifles were leveled at the figure on the clifi’s brink. Before the storm of lead could be let fly, the scout leaped outward and downward. He had dropped below the friendly protection of the rock scarp before the bullets swepé it. The Indians and their half-breed allies, scarcely crediting the evidence of their senses, flung themselves from. their ponies and rimmed the cliff with their feathered heads. The Piute boy had been watching the scout with the eyes of a hawk, and with a heart that swelled with fear and pride. He had noted every move aloft, although of course it was impossible to sce any one but Buffalo Bill and he only inferred the imminence of the scout’s ‘danger by his actions. The feathered heads were looking over the brink be- fore Buffalo Bill had struck the water. Little Cayuse shouted his taunts at the baffled red- skins as the form of the king of scouts came hurtling downward. There was a mighty splash as Buffalo Bill went into the Bravo—a splash and a swirling of the waters that made it difficult for the’ Piute to prevent the canoe from swamping. The scout reappeared on the surface, and Cayuse guided the canoe close to him. “Grab um boat, Pa-e-has-ka!” cried Cayuse. fool um! manches !”’ Buffalo Bill seized the end of the canoe e, one ha each side of the pointed stern. Thus he Sef from capsizing under his weight. 9 Cayuse caught up the floating sombrero, dro pped it from the point of his paddle into the boat, and then taid an angling course for the farther bank. The Comanches, rending the air with their baffled cries; were reloading their guns. A few of them got their weapons in shape for work before the scout and his little pard reached the opposite bank, weil down stream from Squaw Face, but the few bullets that fol- lowed the canoe merely sent up little jets of water at a harmless distance. “We Pa-ehas-ka and Little Cayuse fool um Co- nd on ia tne craft 4 CHAPTER XIV; SECURING BEAR PAW. Nob till the scout had sloshed his watery way into the timber of the opposite bank did he have leisure fo: a word with. Cayuse. Di STORES. 23 “Well done, boy!” he exclaimed. “You git um scalp, Pa-e-has-ka ?” The scout pulled it from his water-logged ‘coat ana handed it to Cayuse. The Piute’s eyés lighted with fierce joy. Unmindful of the dangers that still threatened him and the scout, Little Cayuse held the red scalp proudly above his head and began a Piute chant of victory. “Ta-si-va ku-mai-a Ma-na-pa win-ka So-ku-nas so-ma Wi-a wi-ga-va——” It was the song of “The Little Red Ant” and what he had done “with one arrow only.” The scout wrung his dripping coat and took his hat, which Cayuse had dropped in order to lay hold of the scalp. After that he turned and laid a hand on the little Piute’s shoulder. “Let’s postpone our rejoicing, we are out of the woods.” “Ugh!” breathed the boy, who seemed to take the scout’s success as he would have taken”a victory of his own. “Pa-e-has-ka git um red scalp, jump from Squaw Face, fool um Comanches! Hoop-a-la!’’ “Where’s Navi?” asked the scout. “We go find um. Where Bear Paw, Pa-e-has-ka?” “Across the river. We'll have to get Navi, Cayuse, and then go after Bear Paw.’ “Ai, we do um.” The boy gave back the red scalp, and the scout te- placed it in the breast of his coat. “Hustle, Cayuse,” said he. ing the Bravo. We’ this,” Cayuse struck into a run and Buffalo Bill slopped along after him. 39 Cayuse,” said he, “until “The Comanches are croés- re a good way from being out of “How did you come to be handy with that canoe?” asked the scout, watching the country behind as they hurried. “Me see um Comanches go north,” explained Cayuse, “and make um.run for cabin. Meet um Nomad coming trom cabin. Nomad see um war party with Quiller go north, go to cabin; him say you not there. We follow. Heap hard trail. Bymby we hear um guns go bang. Me make um Navi swim Bravo; Nomad him stay on other side. We try do what we can for Pa-e-has-ka. Sabe him have heap trouble: Me find um canoe while Pa-e-has-ka climb Squaw Face. Come down river To hear that old Nomad, no less than Cayuse, was at hand was refreshing news to the scout. The old trapper had probably had good warning of the passage north of xe detachment of invaders under Quiller, and, as luck ud have it, he met Cayuse while hurrying fromthe cabin of Old Weasel. ” interrupted the scout. “Fust off, I see five men, greasers an’ breeds. They was standin’ in front o’ the cabin, talkin’ among their- selves, an’ lookin’ at another greaser what was layin’ on the ground. The feller on the ground had taken the One-way Trail. Yore hoss wasn’t in sight, Buffler, so I knowed ye'd got out, an’ thet ye’d left yer mark -be- hind. “Arter investigatin’ from er distance, I rode east, cal- culatin’ ter pick up Cayuse, ef he was handy, an’ then go lookin’ fer you. Luck was with me, an’ I met Cayuse ridin’ fer the cabin. I headed him off, an’ he told me what he had seen. Tergether we went back, ‘an’ picked up the trail of Crooked Foot an’ his reds, an’? a tectle later we seen the hoofs 0’ B’ar Paw overlayin’ the marks left by ther Injun ponies: We knowed right off, then, thet ye was trailin’ Crooked Foot. But we was too late ter ketch up with ye, fer thar was shootin’ goin’ on in with SS wag thou been dunt Fort had and sorb brea colo: ua parc help colo beer have cen awe AME BUPPALO (Bibl STORIES. the timber by the Bravo, below Squaw Face, when we got nigh the rock. “Et wasn’t much of er guess ter make thet ye was doin’ somethin’ an’ mout be in trouble, so Cayuse an’I separates. He goes acrost ther river an’ I hangs aroun’ on t’other side. When I seen you climb thet hill to’rds Squaw Face, with all them murderin’ varmints tight arter ye, | was some worked up, ye kin bet yer blankets. But what could I do? Jest erbout then, erlong comes Two-whistles, an’ he was leadin’ Bear Paw. He tells me ter, take ther hoss an’ git over the river, an’ thet’s what I done. I reckon I met ye at jest erbout ther right time, hey, pard?”’ “You and Cayuse certainly stood by me better than I could have hoped for, Nick,” the scout answered. “What did you do arter we left the cabin?” The scout told about discovering the secret cache in the log wall, about the coming of the Mexicans and the half-breeds, and his escape, and then ee his activities. on the Bravo. “Waal,” muttered Nomad, “all thet share puts me up a tree! A chain-steel shirt! I’ve heerd o’ sich things, but I never seen ’em. J reckon thet’s what made Ole Weasel proof agin’ Injun bullets, huh?” “Undoubtedly,” answered the scout. “Too bad he left et off when he went ter Help thet wagon train acrost the hostile kentry. Ef he hadn't, though, ye wouldn’t hev found et, Buffler, an’ ye’d hev been left in thet ravine. along with the greaser. Oh, I dunno. Things gin’rally ae out fer the best, takin’ ‘em by an’ large.” “They do,” averred Buffalo Bill, with conviction. CHAPTER XVI. A PRESEN D-BOR. TWO-WHISTLES.: ~‘, The next morning found the scout and his pards at Fort Custer. They had arrived during the night, and had immediately taken their horses to the post stables and then turned in. Following breakfast, which they ate with Colonel Strong, Buffalo Bill made his: report. They were in the colonel’s dining room, and the ab- sorbing recital of the scout held the commandant at the breakfast table long after the meal was finished. The colonel was exultant. \ — ‘Do you know, Cody,” said he, “that you and: your pards have put this horde out of business without any help from the army ?” “The army has been of a good deal of help to us, colonel,’ returned the scout. “For instance, if,it-hadn’t been for that half-breed, Two- whistles, we never could have foiled the red invaders and turned them back.” “Well, yes,” mused the colonel.” “I wasn’t taking much ‘stock in Two-whistles, Cody, but I knew very well you’d appraise ‘him at his true worth. That’s the reason I sent the fellow to Last Chance with Blynn. He got fifty dol- lars*of good money for that information of his.’ “He’s going to spend that money for a fancy gun for €rooked Foot.” “T can see him doing that,” scoffed the colonel. .‘‘He’ll use some of that fifty for fire-water in the first settle- ment he strikes; and then, what’s left of it the tinhorns will annex. Oh, I know breeds of Two-whistles’ sort!” “You don’t know Two-whistles, colonel,” averred Buf- falo Bill earnestly. “I thought I knew breeds myself, but he’s different. You haye heard how he helped us out while we were in the hills. Why, if it hadn’t been for . him I could never have secured that red scalp!’ The colonel looked thoughtful. “He is a queer sort of genius and that’s a fact,” he acknowledged. “But it’s too much to give him credit for being a reformer. He pulled down fifty dollars, and that was the end andsetm of his ambition.. ‘What he did in the hills was just to give good measure for the money. _ The rascal knew he had bled me.” “You're wrong,” asserted the scout. “Perhaps you'll _ find it out some day, colonel.” “Perhaps I will,” the commandant laughed. “It will be a-*hlow between the eyes if I do.” “Some of your scouts have reported?” “One rode in an hour ago. He says the Comanches are on the run southward.” ao “That proves, then, that Two-whistles was right when he told us the recovery of that red scalp, and the de- stroying of it, would take the fight out of the Coman- ches.” “Yes, he did have that down pretty pat. lot, Pll admit, but——” Blynn hurried into the dining room at that moment, drew himself up, clicked his heels, and saluted. “Sorry to interrupt you, colonel,” said he, with a vague-grin, “but there’s a man out here who’s inquiring anxiously for Buffalo Bill.” “Who is he?” asked the scout. “A fellow you’ve met before,’ answered the lieutenant indefinitely. The scout and his pards, accompanied by the colonel and followed by Blynn, went out on the commandant s front porch. At the sidewalk in front was (ee Avhistles. He had just dismounted, and his pony stood at his back. Close to the. pony was another and better-looking horse. In the saddle of the horse was a white prisoner, feet lashed under the horse’s belly and hands tied to the saddle horn. He knows a ““Pa-e-has-ka!” called Two-whistles. “Well, ’m—blamed!” muttered the colonel. “What's the < trouble; scout. Two-whistles?” inquired the 28 : THE BUPFALO “Me bring pris’ner for white chief at fort. Him sent in by Crooked Foot, who travels south with his people. Me bring um. You say, one time, Pa-e- -has- ka, no kill Quiller, but bring um to fort so ne hang. Si, so you tell me; so I bring um!” rt fist ” cried Quiller savagely, ‘ ‘that I was loose for about a minute! I'd kill that dirty breed, if I had to do it with my bare hands!” “TI guess you'd try, Quiller,” returned the colonel, “but you'd find Two-whistles too much for you. He has al- ready been too much for you. If it hadn’t been for him the Comanches as be pillaging and killing all through the Crow country.’ Quiller was raving mad and began to ease his ents up feelings with more abandon than the colonel could stand, “Blynn,”’ said the colonel, “take that hound to the guardhouse and put him in the cage alongside of Her- mosa and El Chico. Double irons, mind.” “Exactly, sir,” replied Blynn, saluting and with- drawing. “Vou Two-whistles,”’ here.” The half-breed walked sedately to the porch and mounted.to a place in front of the commandant. “Shake!” said the colonel, putting out his hand, “You're more of a man than I took you for.” “Crooked Foot. send um Quiller,” demurred Two- whistles. “That's all right; you brought him in.” They shook hands. “Mebbyso you sell um Two-whistles fine gun for fifty dol?” inquired the half-breed. “Vou want a fine gun, do you?” “Si—for Crooked Foot. Him plenty glad of fine gun.” “Did Crooked Foot tell you to ask for the gun when you turned Quiller over to me?” Two-whistles looked surprised. ! “Him not say anything ‘bout gun. I want um. Give um to Crooked Foot with money you pay.” 9 called the colonel, “come up “Well, Cody’—and the colonel turned to the scout— “that’s the blow between the eyes. Two-whistles just harided it to me. You're right about him, and, by gad, he’s going to get the gun—and something else, for him- self.” The colonel vanished inside the house. moved over to the scout. “Pa-e-has-ka heap big chief,” said he admiringly. “Let it go at that, Two-whistles,” laughed the scout. “You're something of a chief yourself.” “Me no chief—only half-breed.”’ He fished his fifty dollars from his pocket, for the colonel had returned with a silver-mounted, richly chased breech-loader and two highly ornamental army revolvers. Two-whistles’ eyes glimmered as they rested on the sparkling arms. Two-whistles biti) SOR tS. “You give um gun for fifty dol’?” he asked eagerly. “No, sir,’ answered the colonel. “I’m giving you the gun free gratis, for nothing. I don't want your money, Two-whistles. The gun’s for you to sive to Crooked Foot, and the revolvers are for you to keep for yourself. Put the money back in your clothes.” “You give um gun, give um small gun, no take um money?” The half-breed seemed unable to comprehend this gen- erosity on the colonel’s part. “That’s the how of it.” Slowly Two-whistles took the revolvers and slipped them into his belt; then, taking the gun softly, he strode down from the porch and off to his horse. Without an- other word or even a backward look, he mounted and rode for the stockade gate. When he got there he let out a yell that brought a score of heads into the barrack- room doors and windows, and vanished from the in- closure at a tearing gallop. “That yell was all same Injun, anyhow,” laughed the “Come back into the house, Cody, and we'll y é colonel. smoke.” THE END, Now that you have read it to the final line, what do you think of this story? Write and tell the author, ad- dressing your letter care of the publishers, Street & Smith: Certainly it makes good the promise given last. week that you’d have something well worth reading. This ends the group of three about that slippery Horde of Hermosa. | . In the next issue (No, 453) will be need a Shon series that shows you the King of Scouts on a very. dif- ferent mission for Uncle Sam. The story is “Buffalo Bill’s Quarry; or, Captain Rance of the Goldseekers.” It all happens on the border, where so much that is ex- citing and romantic is ever occurring. So much for the scene of the tale—the scene that you like so much. The action, the people you meet, and the other points of a good story-—all these are unusual and striking. This is the tip to you: Don’t miss getting a copy of next week’s BurraLo Biiw’s Srories. The number is 453- HIS READY EXCUSE. Inspecting his company one morning, a captain ‘came to an Irishman, who evidently had not shaved for several days. “Doyle,” he asked, “how is it that you haven’t shaved this morning ?” “But Oi did, sor.’ “How dare you tell me that with the beard you have on your face?” “Well, ye see, sor,” stammered Doyle, “there wuz noine uv us to wan shmall bit uv a lookin’-glass, an’ it must ’a’ been that in th’ gineral confusion, Oi shaved some other mon's face.” : 3 mont 4 mont 6 mont registe by curl change credite ORMOND GEORGE Gu dress pistol windi Fo: lumbe ing oO sight Th way: | build: A the d “ec Gi polite of lu sount In busy pourt -cles | with THE BUFFALO NEW YORK, January 8, 1910. TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS. (Postage Free.) 5 Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. ONG YVGAT VION acl eae ne $2.50 2: COPIGS ORG year, 20. (62s 4.00 1 copy two years...-........-- 4.00 3 months... ~---eencnens-c------ 65c. A MONENE vue chose ep aee cer Mest a5 85e. 6 MODthS ...-.-.-.0-----0- A wuaute $1.25 How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at ourrisk. At yourown risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, Ormonp G. SmitH, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City. Grorce C. SmiTH, Proprietors. _ THE BOY HUNTER’S PRIZE. HE ring of a hundred axes resounded through the val- ley of the St. Croix, and the great, towering pines that had breasted storms of many a century came crashing to earth with deep, thunderous booms. Guided by these sounds, a youth of perhaps seventeen— dressed in buckskin and carrying a rifle, hunting knife, and pistol—was making his way through the dark and intricate windings of the great Minnesota woods. For half a day almost had he been within hearing of the lumbermen’s axes and falling trees, and it was with a feel- ing of the wildest joy and delight that he at length caught sight of a number of log cabins. They stood in a little clearing, across which he pushed his way and se the door of the most pretentious of the buildings. . A young girl of exceeding grace and beauty met him at the door. .. “Good mornin’, miss!” the lad said, lifting his slouch hat politely; “is this the headquarters of the chief of this ranch of lumbermen?” ‘My father,” replied the maiden, “Jonathan Merrill, lives here, and he is superintendent of the force.” “Thank ye, miss. My name’s Dan Ramble, and I’ve come here to see your father.” “You'll find him at work about a mile west; just follow the sound of the axes and you'll find them.” “Thank ye,” the boy said, and, turning, he started west. In a short time he came to where a hundred men were busy at work—bareheaded and bare-armed—the perspiration pouring from their bronzed and bearded faces, and the mus- _cles of their great arms rising and falling like little billows with each swing of the axe. Young Ramble hailed the first man he came to, and told him he wanted to see Mr. Merrill. Too Small to Pick Brush. The man pointed out the “boss’—a large, fine-looking man —-who stood leaning upon his rifle, watching his men at work; and, approaching him with the hesitancy of one in doubt and fear, Dan said: “Good mornin’, Mr. Merrill. My name is Dan Ramble, and I’ve come here to hire to you.” “Good mornin’, Daniel,’ said Merrill, taking the boy’s hand. “What, did you say you’d come over here to hire to / BILL STORIES. me? Why, boy, you’re too small to pick brush, let alone swinging an axe. Look at those men; they are all big fel- lows, with the strength and endurance of bears. What could you do by the side of one of them?’ “I don’t want to chop,” the youth replied, “though I'll bet, if I did take the axe, [’d make the chips fly. But I heard that you’d left word down at the Falls that you wanted to employ a deer hunter, a chap to kill meat for your table, and I kind o’ think I can fill the bill.” Mr. Merrill laughed good-naturedly at the youth’s con- ceit, yet, at the same time, he could not help admiring his pluck and energy—such as seldom fail to win in man or boy. “Why, Dan, my lad, you could as well make a hand at chopping as hunting. It is true, the woods abound with deer, and an occasional bear, but it takes age, experience, and great physical endurance to hunt them every day, rain or shine. A man with those qualifications I want—want him badly.” “Oh, dash the luck!” said Dan; “‘it’s ag’inst a feller to. be a boy. I don’t see what boys were made for but to be dis- appointed and kicked about. But look here, Mr. Merrill,” he cried, brightening up, “you try me for one week—six days— and if I don’t fill the bill—if I don’t keep your table sup- plied with meat, I'll take myself off.” “That’s fair enough, and, as I always like to give a plucky boy a chance, I’ll let you try it a week,” replied the lumber- man. A Young Hunter Speaks Up. “If you don’t want to take any chances on boys, boss, [ll agree to furnish your table without any ‘ifs’ or ‘ands,’” said a voice behind them, and, turning, Merrill and Dan found themselves face to face with a stranger who had approached unseen. ‘ This newcomer was a young man of perhaps five-and- twenty. He was dressed as a hunter, his garb fitting him neatly and displaying a fine sinewy form. His long hair, his mustache, his eyes and his skin were almost as dark as an Indian’s. In fact, his prominent cheek bones and the smallness of his eyes were rather indicative of Indian blood. He gave his name as Ben Harley, though he said he was familiarly known on the plains as Blackhawk. Ben. In a few words he informed Mr. Merrill that he had come there from Taylor’s Falls with the same object in view that Dan Ramble had: and, as he was a fine athletic-looking fel- low, with, no doubt, great experience as a deer hunter, and with a fine-looking rifle and outfit generally, the lumberman was inclined to look upon him favorably, for he was sorely in need of a good hunter. But then he suddenly remembered that he had made Dan Ramble a proposition, and Jonathan Merrill was teo much of a man to break his word with a boy, so he said: “Mr. Harley, I just promised Dan Ramble here that he might work for me a week, and that’if he filled the bill I would accept his services.” “My experience,” said Harley, with a contemptuous look upon the boy, “teaches me that children’s bones, as well as their brains, are too soft for the duties and hardships of a deer hunter.” Dan felt the sting of the man’s tongue keenly, but, with remarkable coolness, he said: “Mr. Merrill, I am willing that Mr. Harley shall go into the woods at the same time | do, and if he kills more game, be it deer, bear, or what not, inside of six days, than I do, I'll give up that he’s the man you want.” “That’s fair enough,” said the lumberman. Five Deer Knocked Over. “Yes,” replied Harley, “but I’d rather have had a man to compete with.” “T’ll do my best to make it lively for you,” said Dan. So the matter was settled that the one who had secured the: most game at the end of six days should have the contract— at a handsome figure—of furnishing game for the table of the lumbermen. As it was nearly night, the hunters went home with Mr. Merrill, and remained with him until morning. Helen Merrill presided over her father’s household, and during the evening a close observer could easily have seen that each of the young hunters was striving to win the good graces of the fair maiden. se ees - After breakfast, the rivals plunged into the great woods in quest of game, and the lumbermen resumed their work. That evening the former reported about dark. Harley had killed three deer, and Dan two. Pack horses were sent out with the hunters to bring in the game which had, at the time of killing, been dressed and hung in trees and bushes beyond the reach of wolves. - So that, if the first day’s hunt was to -have decided the mat- ter, Ben Harley would have been the victor. The second day came and went, and Harley reported four more deer, and Dan three. The third day Dan made a gain of two over his rival, and that made the score stand even. ae On the fourth day each brought in but.a single deer; this “poor luck, however, was accounted for upon the ground of Mr. Merrill having requested them to report to the cabins by three o'clock, as he proposed to give his men an afternoon holiday, and he wanted the hunters to amuse them with an exhibition of their skill as marksmen at target shooting. The hunters were both eager for this, as it would afford them an opportunity to air themselves and their skill in the presence of pretty Helen. : About four o'clock the shooting began. Both hunters evinced considerable skill. They shot for over an hour with but little difference in the result, but finally the last two shots that were to decide the championship on target shooting were decided on sight, by > the judges, a tie. | Left to Miss Helen’s Decision. Before a measure was applied, however, Harley and some of his backers disputed the decision, and for a few minutes it looked as though there would be trouble before the ques- tion was settled beyond a doubt. “ As the lumberman’s daughter evinced considerable interest in the matter, Harley flattered himself that she was in sym- pathy with him, and, knowing that no man would dare dis- pute her decision, he turned to the crowd and exclaimed: “Gentlemen, as we can’t agree, by looking at those bullet holes, who’s the closest, I’m willin’ to leave it to Miss Helen to decide.” - * To this all were agreed. “T’ll decide,” said Helen, who saw there was scarcely the difference of a hair’s breadth in the two shots, and, turning, _ She entered her father’s cabin and immediately returned with a little silver-mounted rifle in her hands and a roguish smile - upon her face. Advancing to the’stand, she bade the men replace the tar- get, and, when that was done, she took deliberate aim at the | tiny speck.of white paper, and fired. Then, running down to the target, she glanced at it, threw up her hand, and exclaimed: “Ym the closest! I’m the closest!” A shout that rang through the woods for miles burst from the lips of the men, and, when they had done yelling, little Dan took off his old hat, and, swinging it in the air, yelled till it seemed his lungs would burst. Harley looked crestfallen and mortified. “Boys,” said Jonathan Merrill, “I had an idea all the time that Helen could beat both of you at target shooting, and I will admit now that I called this match to test the matter and have a little fun. I hope you boys’ll not be offended.” THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. “Offended?” ‘screamed little Dan. “Lor’ bless you. I never enjoyed anything so well since I crossed the St. Croix. Boys, three cheers for Helen Merrill, the champion shot of the Minnesota woods. Hip! hip! hurrah!” The Score Still Even. The lumbermen joined him in raising three rousing cheers. And thus' had Helen settled the dispute that threatened trouble, and the day’s entertainment ended. Z The next morning the rival hunters returned to their work; and, singular as it may seem, the score stood even on the_ night of the fifth day. ~ The work of the next day was to decide the contest. By. this time the lumbermen had all become so interested in tHe novel contest that the greatest excitement prevailed. In fact, they became so deeply interested as to offer bets as to the result. So They were about equally divided in opinion, which it all the more exciting. : By sunset every man was at the cabin, waiting for “re- turns’ to come in, but when Mr. Merrill informed them that Helen had gone and could not be found, the deepest gloom fell upon the party. ’ Z Where she had gone, and when, no one knew. In the midst of this new excitement Harley and Dan re- turned, but neither of them could give any information re- garding Helen, and, for the time being, the result of the hunter’s contest was forgotten. But in the midst of a preparation for a general search for the maiden, she suddenly came bounding into the cabin, with her rifle in hand, her face flushed with the bloom of youth, and her eyes sparkling with a buoyancy of joy that a ramble through the woods had imparted to her young spirit. “Who won? Who won?” she asked, as she saw the excited crowd around her. “I got three deer to-day!” shouted ‘Dan Ramble. , A dead hush fell upon the crowd, when, like a peal of thunder, came Ben Harley’s triumphant voice, shouting: “And I killed four deer, gentlemen!” A murmur of applause and indignation ran through the crowd, but above all the boyish voice of little Dan pealed out: « “But lookee here, men. I didn’t report a whoppin’ big bear that I killed not over a mile from here.” Renewed silence fell upon the crowd, but it was imme- diately followed by a prolonged cheering. And, although each one had killed the same number of ani- mals, it was unanimously decided that the one killing the bear should be declared the winner. ities made A Startling Announcement. “Ay, my friends!” cried Harley; “I have a surprise in re- serve for you, also, for I, too, killed a bear to-day near heres | This announcement fell like a thunderbolt on the ears of the party. : ss : Surprise reigned, and not one of them was willing to de- clare bets off until both deer and bears were produced. So. pack horses were sent out, and the deer brought in as” reported—four for Harley and three for Dan. By this time it was pitchy dark, and, as one or two men could not handle a bear as easily as a deer, a party was de- tailed to assist each of the hunters. Provided with torches, the two hunters led off into the woods—Dan going north, and Harley northeast. : Mr. Merrill accompanied Dan’s party, and in the course of an hour they came to Dan’s bear. “There he lies, gentlemen,” the youth said proudly. “Right, boy, and he’s a big one,” said Merrill: “but, hullo! there come the other boys.” ~ True enough, the lights of Harley’s party appeared in sight above the crest of a little hill, and, coming straight on io, Ct aa iO AN a ca tae shea gmiint aos tela ” msome mis “And nd——” oe ate @ proachec @ him. as @® fired a s @ ried awe over, an @ sure tha % and, wit nd Mr. J © been cut “Gent dispute. a An 0% ® threaten } moment ® calm ju the stor Harley, “You this boy been th to be h the best Harle that cre as he tu And - pute be thus dic furnish woods « The . never | Mexico for the River. schools The ad to. scoo wholes: boys’ d man’s river f1 oy) idea is oA pl |). astonis 4) compti THE BUFFALO Wo where they stood, Harley pointed to the same dead bear, and said: / _ “There is my bear.” | m “What, your bear!” exclaimed Merrill; “there is surely some mistake, boys; Dan just claimed it as his bear.” | “And it is,’ said Dan. “I shot it with my own gun, 2 nd. 29 yi * a “Boy!” interrupted Harley, his eyes flashing, “if you claim We that you killed that bear, I denounce you-—” ee “Hold on here,’ interrupted Merrill, as he saw the rivals ‘clasp their pistols, “no bad blood—no hard words. : This mis- ake, if mistake it be, can be settled without trouble.” | “Yes, it can, father,” cried a voice, and little Helen glided fout of the darkness into the dim glow of the torches. “Par- idon me for following you here, but [ mistrusted this trouble. | Look here,” and she held up between her thumb and finger the great claw, of an animal; “I was in the woods hunting ‘to-day, too, and I saw Dan when he shot that bear dead; ‘and, from my hiding place, I watched him until he went bounding away with joy. A Carved-up Bear. “But scarcely was he out of sight when Mr. Harley ap- @ proached the bear, looked at it a while, then, looking around @ him as if to see no one was near, he raised his rifle and ® fired a shot into the dead bear’s carcass; then he, too, hur- ® tied away. When he was out of sight, I thought the matter # over, and made up my mind all was not right; so, to make sure that I had seen this bear killed by Dan, I came down, f and, with my hunting knife, cut off a single claw.” Mr. Merrill lowered his torch; and saw that one toe had been cut from the right forefoot. “Gentlemen!” exclaimed the lumberman, “that decides the dispute. This is Dan’s game.” An oath burst from Harley’s lips, but it was followed by threatening cries of derision from the woedmen, and fora moment it seemed that the hunter’s life was in peril, but the calm judgment of Jonathan Merrill prevailed, and he stayed the storm of threatened vengeance. Then, turning to Ben Harley, he said: “Young man, you have s¢en fit to act the rascal to defeat this boy whom you looked upon with contempt, but you have been thwarted. Now you can go, and go at once, and it is to be hoped you have learned wisdom, and that honesty is the best policy.” Harley made no reply, but the glance that he swept over that crowd, as revealed in the wavering light of the torches, as he turned to go, was not to be forgotten soon. And thus had the brave little Helen settled a second dis- pute between the rival hunters, and in. favor of right; and thus did Dan Ramble, the boy hunter, secure the contract of furnishing the lumbermen’s table with such game as the woods of Minnesota afforded. THE NAVAJO INDIANS.” The Navajos occupy a big reservation, part of which has never been explored by white men, in Northwestern New Mexico. The goverument maintains a sort of headquarters for the tribe at a place called Shiprock, on the San Juan River. The civilizing plant includes some magnificent schools where the Indian young idea is taught not to shoot. The adult Indians, unfortunately, have taught the children to scoot, and-the San Juan River is particeps criminis to a wholesale truancy. This very eccentric river is the school- boys’ delight. When a youngster loses interest in the white ' man’s learning he wades across the San Juan; then the river rises—sometimes ten feet in two hours—and the young idea is cut off from educational advantages.: A plain statement of some facts about the Navajos may astonish many white Americans. The Navajo. tribe, which comprises about five thousand persons, has absolutely no BILL: STORIES. religion but a sort of patriotism that is more like tribal loy- alty than “love of land.” Their wonderful sand paintings, concerning which so much has been written, are historical (traditional), rather than religious. They have no word that can properly be translated “religion,” nor can they un- derstand the abstract idea of “worship.” They decline to be Christianized, and refuse to be civilized, but they are ex- cellent stockmen, ingenious manufacturers of rugs, jewelry, and pottery, fair gardeners, unequaled hunters, and they know something of. mining. The tribe mines and markets several hundred pounds annually of garnets and other semi- precious stones. A missionary family taught a Navajo boy in their employ to say grace before dining. The head of the house was away from home, one day at dinner time, and Sequetl was persuaded to ask the blessing. “Me thank God—me eat plenty,” ran the abbreviated petition, and the young Savage © began his repast. The hostess discreetly said nothing, though she had taught him a much more elaborate form, When the first phonograph reached Shiprock, a few years ago, a doctor, a man of diminutive stature, invited a pass- ing warrior to come in and see the wonder. The first record played was in a feminine voice, and the lady soundly be- rated her husband—it was a sort of curtain lecture—while the little doctor stood near the machine. Just as the record was concluded a local celebrity, noted for his enormous pro- portions, entered the room and stood before the instrument. The warrior assumed an exultant attitude. “Now, squaw, talk! talk!” he urged and taunted, but the squaw was heap ‘fraid. \ WHY THEY MISSED THE BEAR. “That reminds me of something,” said Lieutenant J. C. Burnett of the United States branch hydrographic office the other day while talking with some friends. “It reminds me of ‘bear ague.” Never heard of it, eh? Well, I first en- countered it in Wrangell narrows, Alaska, a number of years ago. We were on the old surveying steamer Pat- terson. “Tust as we rounded a point of land not more than two hundred yards distant a big black bear was seen on the beach looking at us. Eight men took up rifles at once and were about to shoot when I told them to wait and fire all at once ina volley when I gave the order. They all took care- ful beads on the beast. ‘Ready, fire,!’ I shouted. “There was a rattle of musketry as the eight pieces were discharged, and every ofie looked to see the animal’s death throes. There was the bear running up the hill as lively as a jack rabbit. Not a shot had hit him. Bear ague, that’s all. Every man’s hand was trembling so he couldn't hit a house. Buck fever’s nowhere alongside of it.” FOOLS COYOTES WITH TRAPS. F. L. Breidenstein, better known to Idaho sheepmen and his other friends in Boisé as Coyote Bill, a hunter, in the service of the forestry bureau, reports the extermination of forty-seven coyotes during the month of September. Alto- gether for the year he has been with the department he states he has destroyed at least three hundred coyotes, be- sides a large number of pups, wildcats and other obnoxious animals. Although more successful in destroying coyotes than any other man in the State, Coyote Bill says he has never used poison in any form, nor has he used a gun. He does all his work with traps, and it may be imagined with what care and skill he places them when it is remembered that. of all the beasts that roam the hills the coyote is perhaps the hardest to fool with a trap. . TIP TOP LATEST ISSUES WEEKLY | The most popular publication for boys. The adventures of Frank and Dick Merriwell can be had only in this weekly. High art colored covers. Thirty-two pages. 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Price, 5 cents. 665—The Dead Man in the Car; or, Nick Carter’s Hair Line Clue. 666—Nick Carter’s Master Struggle; or, The Battle With the ' Man-monkey. ee 667—The Airshaft Spectre; or, Nick Carter’s Shrewd Surmise, 668—The Bfoken Latch; or, Nick Carter’s Single Clue, 669—Nick Carter’s Sudden Peril; or, The Riddle of the Rutgers Street House. 670—The Man With the Missing Thumb; or, Nick Carter’s Chance Discovery. 671—Feltman, the “Fence”; or, Nick Carter and the Hester Street Feud. 672—A Night with Nick Carter® or, The Kid-gloved Case. Nick Carter’s exploits are read the world over. TER WEEKLY High art colored 673—In the Nick of Time; or, Carter Finishes the Feltman Affair. 674—The Dictator’s Treasure; or, Nick Carter Nips the Hon: duran Plotters. 675—Pieces of Eight; or, Nick Carter Solyes.a Strange Enigma. Cee the Mask; or, Nick and the Queen of the Mardi ras, 677—The Green Patch; or, Nick Carter Without a Clue. 678—The Drab Thread; or, Nick Carter Solves the Mystery of Room 13. 679—-A Live Wire Clue; or, Nick Carter and the Badmington The heroes of the stories published in this weekly are dear to the hearts of 60,000 boys. Diamond Dick is a : Thirty-two big pages. splendid Western character. High art colored covers. 680-——Diamond Dick in Arizona; or, The Mystery of the Missing President. Pe 681—Diamond Dick’s Power; or, The Affair on the Road from Flagstaff. : 682—Diamond Dick Solves a Mystery; or, On the Trail of Job. 683—Diamond Dick in the Colorado Cafion; or, Frank’s Sight of Another World. 684—Diamond Dick on the Farm; or, The Mission of the Strangers. 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Dear Sirs: Enclosed please find. coe 2 COCCECOC EEE H Eee TIP TOP WEEKLY, TRB ee Peis, NICK CARTER WHERUY 8 ec ae DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY, ooo BNE Fore ae Cus pals cane dee ba es eoeose Street... eeseeccee eeeoeee Mate ihe gen A ty te oe eee A sss Sveu ee y eve means mma fae Bea ee Ne ccm s seeeeeeee LIO Seer cents for which send me: ; BUFFALO BILL STORIES, NoS..............0.cc0cc0000-000 0, BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY,“* ........... ceeavas (oe eee ‘ siseeeeeeeae CHY ssssceeeceseceosceeens Seen WEEE ssc, wane eet ieee ae . BUFFALO BILL STORIES ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the ad eanices 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 hecane 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. order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in money or postage-stamps. 177—Buffalo 213—Buffalo 214—-Buftfalo 217—Buffalo 219—Buffalo 223—Buffalo 224—Buffalo 225—Buffalo * 226—Buffalo 228—Buffalo 229—Buftalo 230—Buffalo 232—Buffalo 235—Buftalo 236—Buffalo 237—Buftalo 238—Buffalo 239—Butfalo 240—Buffalo 241—Buffalo 242—Butffalo 243—Butfalo 244—Buffalo 245—Buffalo 246—Buffalo 247—Butffalo 248—Buffalo 249—Buffalo 250—Buffalo 251—Buffalo 252—Buffalo 253—Buffalo 254—Buffalo 255—Buffalo 256—Buffalo 257—Buffalo 258—-Buffalo 259—-Buffalo 261—Buffalo 262—Buffalo 263—Buffalo 264—Buftfalo 265—Butftalo 266—Buffalo 267—Buffalo 269—Buffalo King 270—Buftfalo 271—Buffalo 272—Buffalo 273—Buffalo 274—Buffalo 275—Buftfalo 276—Buftfalo 277—Buffalo 278—Buffalo 280—Buffalo 282—Buffalo 283—Buffalo 284—Buffalo 285—Buffalo 286—Buffalo 287—Buffalo 288—Buffalo 289—Buffalo 290—Buffalo 291—Buftalo 292—Buffalo 293—Buffalo 295—Buffalo 296—Buffalo 297—Buffalo 298—Buffalo 299—Buffalo 300—Buffalo Bill in Morenci ... Bill’s\ Diamond Hunt........ Bill’s. Avenging Hand. a Bill’s Cheyenne Comrades . 4 Billig Sioux MOGs cs) .6 8) oe 6 isis Bills Wlonida GHOOS s/c:ci5\ oe) ose Bills Grim:Climb......... Bill’s Red Enemy .... ees Bill on a Traitor’s Track. oe Bills Air Voyage.. oalelete Bill’s Death Thrust... Sidatoais Bill’s Kiowa Foe.:..:..... Bill’s Bill’s Apache Round-up...... Bill’s -hl Paso “Pardiy. fo. 2 os Bill on the Staked Ee oie Billés:: Border: “Raid ci. sites acs Bill’s Bravest Fight.. Bills Heathen Pard.........%..: Bill’’s Dakota Dare-devils.... Bill’s Arapahoe Alliance..... Bill on Special Service...... Bill on a Treasure Hunt.... US OSU QUART Yer. ccc ieieaele sce Bill Among the Comanches... Bill’s Stockade Siege........ Bill’s Creek Quarrel........ Bill Among the Pawnees... Bill on a Long Hunt. Bill’s Wyoming Trail. ‘ Bill and the Redskin Wizard.. Bill’s Bold Challenge........ Bill’s Shawnee Stampede..... Bills Worst WMOGh ec nics ete c seis Bill on a Desert Trail....... Bill’s Rio Grande Feud...... Bill in Tight Quarters....... Bill’s Daring -Rescue........ Bill’s Treasure Train. Bill Among the Blackfeet. Bill’s Border Beagles. : 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 Robber Ranch- Bill in the Land of Wonders.. Bill and the Traitor Beleiet Bill’s Dusky Trailers. : Bill’’s Diamond Mine. a Bill and the Pawnee Serpent.. Bill si Scarieh Ve and’ visits see Bill Running the Gantlet.. Bill’s Leap in the Dark...... Bill’s Daring Plunge........ Bill’s Ghost Raid....... Bill’s Camp-fires.... Bill Wp awiShumMpwieisls ice cece. Bill’s Secret Foe....... vane Wyoming Trail..... ee) CUSTOUOULOVOTOUOTOUOT «= OLOTOTOUOUON OL OV OV OL OV OL OT OV OV OF OT OF OV OF OV OV OV OT OF OV OV OV OT OU OL OV OV OV OT OV OU OUOU OU ON OTOUOT ON Bill’s Master-stroke...... ue 5 Bill and the Masked Mystery. Bill and the Brazos Terror... Bill’s Dance of Death....... Bill and the Creeping Terror.. Bill and the Brand of Cain.. Bill and the Mad Millionaire. Bill’s Medicine-lodge........ Brllsin yPerilie cae emsae oe once Bill in the Death Desert..... Bill in No Man’s Land...... Bill’s Border Ruffians....... Bill’s Black Hagles.......... 5 Bill’s Desperate Dozen. ‘Bill’s Rival 301—Buffalo 302—Buffalo 303—Buffalo 304—Buffalo 305—Buffalo 306—Buffalo 307—Buffalo 3808—Buffalo 309—Buffalo 310—Buffalo 311—Buffalo 312—Buffalo 313—Buffalo 314—Buffalo 315—Buffalo 316—Buffalo 318—-Buffalo 319—Buffalo 320—Buffalo 321—Buffalo 322—Buffalo 324—Buffalo 3825—Buffalo 326—Buffalo 327—Buffalo 328—Buffalo 329—Buffalo 330—Buffalo 331—Buffalo 332—Buffalo 333—Buffalo 334—Buffalo 335—Buffalo 336—Buffalo 337—Buffalo 338—Buffalo 339—Buffalo 340—Buffalo 341—Buffalo 342—Buffalo 343—Buftalo 344—Buffalo 345—Buffalo 346—Buffalo 347—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 866—Buffalo 3867—Buffalo 368—Buffalo 369—Buffalo 370—Buffalo 371—Buffalo 372—Buffalo 373—Buffalo 374—Buffalo 375—Buffalo 376—Buffalo 377—Buftfalo 378—Buffalo 379—Buffalo Bill’s Ice Chase. ie Bill and the Boy Bugler... 4 Bill and the White Specter. . Bill’s Death Defiance....... Bill and the Barge Bandits. . Bill, the Desert Hotspur.... Bill’s Wild Range Riders.... Bill’s Whirlwind Chase...... Bill’s ‘Red Retribution....... Bill Haunted Bill’s Fight for Life......... Bill’s Death Jump Bill and the Pit of Horror... Bill in the Jaws of Death.... Bikes vAztec RUNMeRS. ccc as, Bill’s Dance with Death..... Bills Hienye Wy Ca ees ee Bill’s Mazeppa Ride......... Bill in the Land of Spi a Bill’s Gypsy Band. a Bill’sc Maverick: 3