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A WEEKLY PUBLICATION

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DEVOTED TO BORDER LIFE

 

Sssued 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., N.Y.
Copyright, 1910, by STREET ‘& SMITH.

 

No. 466.

NEW YORK, April 16, 1910.

Price Five Cents.

 

 

Buffalo Bill and the Apache Totem

 

OR,

_ THE MYSTERY OF NARBONA.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER. I.
SENOR JUAN FRANCISCO,

\ & /

“Is Buffalo Bill stopping at this hotel?”

A Mexican, who looked as though he might be a man
of some importance, stepped up on the porch in front
of the adobe hotel in Solomonsville, Arizona. He put
his question to an old negro, who happened to be the

only person in. sight.

The negro was busy; in fact, he seemed very busy.
Just what he was doing, however, was more or less of
a mystery. He was making finger and whole-arm move-
ments with so much energy that the sweat stood out in
drops on his black forehead. He sat in a rocking-chair,

_ his: kinky white head bowed, and as he pushed and pulled -

at the air he muttered something as a sort of accom-
paniment to the strange gestures.

The Mexican, seeing that his question had failed to
reach the negro’s ears and gain his attention, stepped
closer to the rocking-chair. Thereupon the words the
negro was muttering came to him quite distinctly.

“Debble take cat, cat take Marse Cody’s bad luck;
debble take cat; cat take Marse Cody’s bad luck.”

The Mexican was puzzled, but he wasn’t there to
work out that sort of a puzzle.

“Is Buffalo Bill stopping at this hotel?” he repeated,
dropping a hand on the negro’s shoulder.

The black man gave a jump, threw back~his head, and
rolled up the whites of his eyes.

=

“Whaffur yo’ done gone an’ done a thing lak dat?”
he fluttered. “Ah’s workin’ spells, en Ah done had de
good luck comin’. Whaffur yo’ bust hit up dat-er-way,
huh? G’long, yo’ greaser trash, en doan’ come pesterin’
no mo’.”’ sf

The negro dropped back into his queer labors with
redoubled ardor. The Mexican gave him an astonished
look, then whirled away on his spurred heels and strode
into the hotel. :

The clerk was the only man in the office. He had
just had his breakfast, and was leaning back comforta-
bly in a tilted chair. To all appearances, he was trying
to swallow a bowie. But appearances are sometimes
deceitful. The clerk, as a matter of fact and record, was
merely picking his teeth with the blade’s point.

“Ts Buffalo Bill staying at this hotel?” inquired the
Mexican, for the third time.

The clerk removed the bowie carefully and stropped
it twice up and down his shirt sleeve.

“Thet’s what. Was you a-wantin’ ter see him?’

1 Ves. s

The clerk raised his voice. “Buffler Bill!’ he called.
“Here’s a ombray as wants ter palaver with ye!’

A. door at the rear of the office lead out into the
dining room. At that moment the king of scouts came
through the door and stopped to take his hat from a
nail in the wall. The Mexican moved toward him with
hand outstretched.

“Sefior Buffalo Bill,” said the Mexican, “I am Juan
Francisco, from Fort Grant.”

  

   
    

 

    
   
  
   
   
 
   
   
    
   
 
   
   
  
     
   
  
    
   
    
    
    
    
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
 
     
   
   
   
  
 
 
    
    
  
   
    
    

 

ana nN ORE REDIRECTS BORO

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ea THE BUFFALO

“What! exclaimed the scout, grabbing the out-
stretched hand heartily. “Well, Francisco, this is a sur-
prise party, and no mistake. Glad as blazes. Anything
in particular I can do for you?”

“T want a little talk with you—in private.”

“Buenos! Come this way, sefior.”

The. scout passed through a door into a hall, then
along the hall to a room in a wing of the rambling old
one-story mud building. Closing the door behind Fran-
cisco, he kicked out a chair.

“Make yourself comfortable, amigo,” said he.
pipe?” and he amicably offered his tobacco pouch.

“Gracias, Seftor Cody,’ answered: Francisco, “but I
have the makings of a cigarro myself. 1 do not like
pipes.”

Buffalo Bill, when his own briar was going, sat back
in his chair and watched his caller manipulating his bit
of corn husk and stringy leaf of Sonora.

Francisco was of good height and build, for a Mex-

“Got a

‘ican. There was nothing spectacular about his appear-
ance. His clothes were good, but all Americano except

for the high-crowned hat. Francisco’s face, however,
was. the face of a fighter. There was a scar across one
cheek from the corner of the eyebrow to the corner of
the mouth—an ugly mark, a quarter of an inch wide
and red as fire.
“Now, then, amigo,”
was going,

said the scout, when the cigarro
“let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“T came,” remarked Francisco, “to thank you and to
ask a favor.”

“No need of thanks. As for the favor—what is it?”

“Two or three days ago,’ pursued Francisco, “you
did a little work ‘for the governor of this Territory.
It was fine work—muy bravo. Many robberies had been
committed by a gang of Apaches—two miners from the
Gila lost-their dust; I was coming from Sonora to buy
horses ata raneh | near Mount "Carabull, and I lost
twenty thousand pesos in silver; also the “Apaches ran
off the horses I was to buy—and the governor asked you
to scatter the Apaches and their leader, capturing all
of the gang you could. The gang had a white leader
called: Boston. Pete. You captured Boston Pete, recov-
ered the dust and gave it to the miners, recovered the
horses and sent them to the rancher, and recovered my

pesos and sent them to me. For the pesos, sefior, I
am very. thankful.”

The scout made a weary gesture.

“What you tell me, Francisco, is past history, Never

mind being grateful—what | did for you was ‘all in the
day’s work. Now, the favor.”

“Buenos! When I was coming up from Sarees: with
my four bags of pesos, the Apaches rushed me, got my
silver, and took to the hills again, muy pronto. But, in
their haste, one of them dropped a black bag. The black
bag, sefior, was left behind. I picked it up and exam-
ined it.”

Ves?” The scout began to develop a little interest,
“What was in the black bag, Francisco?”

“Nothing but a human skull.”

“A: skull?” echoed the scout. “Queer thing for a lot
of ’Pachies to be toting around with them.”

“Si, very queer. In fact, it\seemed so queer that I
took the skull with me to Fort Grant and showed it to
Colonel Osborne. He identified it as the skull of Nar-

nt iten oman ota eth. nmi an te,

BILL STORIES.

@
bona, an ancient chief of the Navajos. It is supposed to
be ‘big medicine’ among the Apaches.”’ :

“What did the colonel do with the thing?

“Te sent it to the governor, in Phenix.”

“Great Scott! What use could the governor have for
the skull of Narbona?”’

“Merely a. curiosity, Sefior Cody; nothing more. Now,
amigo, af am going back t to conte, and I have a desire
to face the aul ae me. It is of no use to the gov-
ernor, of no use to anybody, but I want it as a souvenir,
as a memento,”

“Well, I reckon you daatd get it. I don’t suppose the
governor cares to ‘have a rele like that laying around.
All you have to do is to go to Phenix, tell the governor
the circumstances, and ask for what you want.”

“You are a. good friend of Governor Brathwaite?”

“We know each other pretty well.”

“He is under obligations to you for this work you
have done for him?’

The scout frowned.

“T don’t like your line of talk, Francisco,” said he.
“Whether the governor is a friend of mine, or ee
he feels under obligations to me, is my business alee
—not yours.” .

“I beg your pardon, sefior. I am anxious to secure
the skull, and I wished to request of you a letter to the
governor asking him to give it to me.”

The scout stared at Francisco.

“Knowing so little as I do about that skull,” he an-
swered bluntly, “T wouldn’t give you such a letter. But,
if that piece of human anatomy is no more than you say,
your personal request on the governor ought to be
enough. tiodk isnt, then your cue. is tosger a letter
from Col onel Osborne, the man who sent the “eal to the
governor.’

‘The colonel, senor, refuses to favor me.”

“Which is all the more reason why I Shouldn't. lf
you
A fist banged on. the

“Come in! he called.

The clerk pushed open athe door and stuck in’ his
head,

“Nother ombray in the office to’see you, Buffler Bill,’
he announced. “I reckon all the strangers in | these parts
allow ye’re holdin’ a reception.”

The scout got up and excused himself to Peapcisco:

“Tl be ick | in a minute,” said he.

In the office he found another man in a bell-crowned
hat. This man was also a Mexican, wearing good Amer-
icano clothes, but with a smooth, clean face.

“Sefior Cody?” t the Mexican asked, stepping forward
and holding out his hand.

“The same,’ answered the scout.

“I have come from Fort Grant to give you my thanks,
Sefior Cody. I owe you gratitude, ah, mucho, mucho.”

This gratitude business was getting on the scout’s
nerves,

“What have I ever done for you?” he inquired.

“Me, Iam Juan Francisco, of Sonora. You found
and returned my twenty thousand pesos, so my heart is
very warm for Buffalo Bill.”

“Whoop!” murmured the clerk.
plumb full o’ Juan Franciscos!
ter Franciscos.”

The scout was

 

scout’ s door.

“The woods. aire
Never see sich er day

startled.

     
     
 

cane ctadLisa Ant Pesan caesesciecsrsos

THE BUFFALO

“Jim,” said he, to the clerk, “just hang onto this Juan
Francisco and don’t let him get away. I’m going after
the other Juan Francisco, and we'll get the two of them
together and find out which is which.”

Hurrying back to his room, the scout flung open the
door and stepped in. But Juan Francisco number ‘one
was gone. An open window disclosed thé method of his
departure.

The scout ran to the window, climbed through, and
began a search around the rear of the hotel.

CHAPTER IL.
THE REAL FRANCISCO.

Why there should be two Franciscos, both claiming to
have been robbed of $20,000 by Apaches, and both claim-
ing that the scout had recovered the money and returned
if to them, was more than Buffalo Bill could ‘under-

stand.

There was no trace of Francisco number one to be
found. The marks of his boots in the soft sand) under
the window were very plain, but the tracks were lost in
the harder ground a few feet beyond the hotel wall.
When the footprints faded, they were pointing toward

-a small horse corral in the rear of the hostelry.

The baron, Buffalo Bill’s Dutch pard, was at the corral
rubbing down his mule, Toofer. Toofer was the?pride
of the baron’s heart, and whenever he had a little leisure
he groomed the animal.

‘Vat’s oop, Puffalo Pill?” inquired the baron, watching
the scout as he ran toward the corral.

“T’m looking for a man in a Mexican‘hat,” answered

- the scout.

“Mit some scars ofer his face, yes! ee

"Phat! s the fellow.”

“Den you vas doo lade. Der feller chumped his horse
und vent avay like-some shtreaks. I saw dot meinseluf.
I t’ought, py shinks, he vas in a pooty pig hurry, aber I
peen so busy taking care oof der mu-el dot I don’d gif
him some addention. Vat has der feller done mit hin
seluf, bard?”

“He claimed to be Juan Francisco, the man for whom
we saved those twenty thousand Mexican dollars-——”

“Hoop-a-la!” exulted the baron. ‘“Meppy he come to
gif us a t/ousant for vat ve dit, hey?” |

“Not so you could notice it, baron. While I was
talking with the man, in my room, another caller came
to the office and asked for me. the second man also
said he was Juan Francisco, and when I went to my
room to see the fellow I had left there, he was gone.”

“Vat a crooked pitzness! Vat you t’ink, eh?”

“I don’t know what to think, but T’ll go back and
have a talk with the other man. If he’s the real Fran-
cisco, he may be able to tell us something.”

» Lhe baron, mightily interested in this queer proceed-
ing, turned Toofer into the corral and accompanied the
scout to the office.

“Where are Nomad arid Wild Bill, baron?”
scout.

“Dey got tired loafing aroundt mit demselufs, Puffalo
Pill,’ answered the baron, “und dey hat some early
The
“Venefer dose fellers ged oudt lookiyg

asked the

preakfasts und vent for a rite, drouple-hunding.”
baron laughed.

PI raensnn bee  N sep i se Sa reper

A Seren lara a vie

 

   

   

BILE STORIES, = = 3

for drouple, den oxcidement habbens at der biace vat
dey leaf. Dot’s a skinch. How habby L,vas dot I ditn’t
go along!”

“Where's Cayuse ?’

“Ich weiss nicht. Meppy he iss off someveres looking
for drouple, too.”

In the hotel office, Jim, the clerk, had Francisco num-
ber two seated in a chair and was standing over him
with the bowie. The Mexican was highly indignant,
for he could not understand what such rough treatment
meant. i

“Buffalo. Bill,” he cried, the moment the scout en-
tered the door, ‘I came here like a gentleman to express
my gratitude to you, and, por Dios! look how you treat
tHe.

“That’s all right, amigo,’ returned the scout, “and
there’s no other way we could treat you. You're the
second Juan Francisco to call on me within half an

hour. When you came, I left the other one in my room,
and———”’

“Another Juan Francisco? Diable! How can that
be?’

The scout explained. While he talked, a look of the
utmost concern crept over Francisco’s face.

“And this other scoundrel,’ said he, when the scout
had finished, “how.did he look? Tell me, sefior.”

“He was a larger man than you, dressed in a similar
fashion, and had a scar across his cheek.”

Francisco bounded up from. his chair, so excited he
paid no heed to Jim’s bowie.

“Madre mia!” he exclaimed. “There is a plot!
derstand! [-can see through it!”

“What sort of a plot?” ‘asked the scout.

“Take me, Sefior Cody,” was the answer, “some place
were we can be by ourselves, where we can talk.”

“My room’s the best place,” and, as the scout turned to
leave the office for the hall, he gave the baron a look
which caused him to drop in behind Francisco, thus mak-
ing sure he did not try to bolt.

“Hey, Buffler!” called the clerk.

“What is it?” returned the scout.

“Ef any more Juan Franciscos come, what'll I do with
"em ?”

“Rope, down and tie them.

TAISeTeck.

When the scout had ushered the baron and Francisco
into his room, he closed the door as he had done previ-
ously and motioned his caller to the chair the other Fran-
cisco had occupied.

“Now, then,” said the scout curt ‘what about this?
Which of you two men is the real Francisco, the one for
whom I recovered the twenty thousand pesos?”

“T am the one, si!” answered the Mexican vehemently.
“If you doubt, ask Colonel Osborne, at Fort Grant. |
have been for three weeks at the military post.”

“The other man said the same thing.”’

“Sangre de diable! The other man was playing a part.
As you describe him, sefior, he is the man called Sanga-
mon Charlie. They know him, at Grant, and they know
no good of him. He sells whisky to the Apaches, si:
and he was agfriend of the robber who calls himself Bos-
ton Pete—and who, thanks to you, sefior—is now a
prisoner at Fort Grant.”

There was an earnestness about the Mexican which
led. the scout to believe that he was the real Juan Fran-

1 un-

Then send word to me.”

  
 

 

 

SS Sei EET

Soy AR SCRIBE LOT RE eek

i . THE BUFFALO

cisco. If the scout knew anything of character, this
Mexican was an honest man.

“Your words have the right ring, Francisco,’ said
the scout, “but why should this Sangamon Charlie come
here and pretend ‘to be you?”

“You talked with the man, perhaps?”

Sb did.”

“Tf you will tell me what he said, then maybe I can
inform you why he acted so.”

The scout repeated the yarn about the skull of Nar-
bona, and told of Sangamon Charlie’s request for a letter
to the governor which would put him in possession of the
skull.

The effect of this explanation on Francisco was odd.
The Mexican scowled; his face brightened; and then he
slapped his hands together as though the whole proceed-
ing had cleared for him. :

“Por Dias!’ he muttered. “‘I see, I sabe. Sefior, San-
gamon Charlie is fighting for the leadership of the

_ Apache robbers. S71, he is eager to have the place of Bos-

ton Pete. But Lasca, Boston Pete’s Mexican daughter,
herself wants to lead the red renegades. Sangamon
Charlie is fighting Lasca. Ah, there is a girl, a wildcat !’’

“How, do you know this, Francisco?’ demanded the
scout.

“Tt is known at the fort—all the Americano officers
have been talking about it. You know the Apaches got
away, all of them. Some were wounded, but they got
away. Only their white leader was captured. One of
the wounded Apaches was brought into'the fort, and he
told the Americano officers.. I heard it from them.”

“What has this skull got to do with it?”

“For the Apaches, that skull of Narbona is said to be
‘big medicine,’ sefior. They almost worship it. The skull
used to be in the hands of Boston Pete, and it did many
strange things. It moved as though it were alive, sefior!
The Apache prisoner said it would tell Boston Pete what
his Apache allies were to do—and woe to the Apache
who failed to carry out his orders. Diable, but it is all
very strange.”

“Dot’s der vorst I efer heard!” gulped the baron, who
was listening with all his ears.

The scout laughed incredulously.

“A wonder story!” he declared.
of Boston Pete’s.”

“Si, it must have been. And yet—well, sefior, you
know, everybody knows, how those red Apaches obeyed
the leader of the gang. Si, Sefior Cody, Boston Pete’s
word was law among the red men. And why? Because
they were afraid of the skull of Narbona!”

Superstition runs wide through the Indian nature.
The scout knew this. Also he knew that everybody had
wondered at the power Boston Pete exercised over the
Apaches who comprised his gang. This, perhaps, was
the secret.

“Me, I found the black bag with the skull when the
Apaches took my twenty thousand pesos,’ went on Fran-
cisco. “It all happened just as Sangaman Charlie told
you. He wanted to get the skull from the governor, and
he thought that, if he came to you and pretended to be
Juan Francisco, you would help him.”

“Why did he want it?’ queried the puzzled scout.

“Why, sefior, so he could take from Lasca the leader-
ship. Sangamon Charlie would be the capitan. If he
had the skull of Narbona, it would make him the capitan,

“It was some trick

BILL STORIES.

Perhaps Sangamon Charlie knows the tricks of Boston
Pete. The Apaches, seeing Sangamon Charlie with the
skull, and seeing the skull do for him what it had done
for. Boston Pete, would drive Lasca away.. They would
think Sangamon Charlie the favored one; and Charlie
would tell them that Narbona wanted them to obey him.
Diable!’ The Apaches would obey.”

Considered from the’ superstitious viewpoint of the
redskins, this explanation seemed very plausible to the
scout. That skull was the Apache totem. The white
man who held the totem would hold the balance of
power. ;

“T ‘reckon,’ mused the scout, “that Narbona’s skull
won't play much of a part in this battle for leadership
between Sangamon Charlie and Lasca. The skull is in
the governor’s office in Phenix, and :

The head and shoulders of Little Cayuse, the Piute
boy, at that moment appeared in the open window.

“Ugh!” he grunted, lifting his hand and flipping a
letter in the scout’s direction. “Paper-talk, Pa-e-has-ka,
Me got um from post office.”

The scout tore open the envelope, and read the enclo-
sure. A frown crossed his face—a frown of surprise and
wonder.

“Tl take it back,” said he.. “The skull is not in the
governor's office. A young Mexican, with a forged let-
ter purporting to be from me, called on the governor a
couple of days ago, and the Apache totem was given to
him.@ This young Mexican must be another candidate
tor the leadership of the reds.”

 

)

CHAPTER III.
WHO IS THE FORGER?

One twist of the situation was following another so
rapidly that the baron could hardly get the trend of
events straightened out in his mind.

“Leedle Cayuse vas py der bost office,
queried,

“The stage got in a little while ago,’ the scout an-
swered, “and the boy must have gone after the mail. All
that came for me was this letter from the governor.’

“Und der ledder iss from der gofernor himseluf?”

NCQ.

“How funny dot it come schust imtime to tell us dot

vat ve tink ve know ve don’d know, ‘Read him oudt,
Puttalo. Pull:

“Friend Cody,” read the scout: ‘‘‘ Just a line to
tell you that your young Mexican friend presented him-
self an hour ago with your letter, and that I gave him the
so-called skull of Narbona. I’m glad enough to get rid of
the thing, but it seems to be a trouble-maker among the
Apaches and I was intending to have it thrown into the
Rio Salado. The Mexican told me that you were going
to use it, in som¢ way, to get hold of Sangamon Charlie
and Lascea, the girl who is fighting Charlie for leadership
of the red renegades. More power to your arm, Buffalo
Bill! ‘You have done well to lay Boston Pete by the
heels and recover so much stolen property; now if you
can run out the rest of the trail, and help the soldiers
get the Apaches back on the reservation where they
belong, I'll throw up my hat and give three times three

yest. he

   
  
 

     
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
  
  
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
   
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
     
 
 
   
   
  
   
   
    
   
    
   
  
  
   
   
     

Sa ee
=

ee oe
   
       

 

|
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for the king of scouts ‘and his pards.’ That’s all,” and
the scout thrust the letter into his pocket.

.“Dot’s a pully goot ledder!” declared the baron, push-
ing out his chest and throwing his head a little on oné

side. “Aber dis iss some serious pitzness, you bed my :

life. Who vas der feller vat made some forcheries mit
your name, und fooled der gofernor like vat he dit? Ve
ought to haf his skelup for dot, bard.”

“Sefior Cody speaks the truth,” chimed in Francisco,
“when he says that the fight for leadership of the gang
is between three, instead of two. This young Mexican
who forged the scout’s name, and secured the skull, will
win. Sangamon Charlie and the Sefiorita Lasea will
lose. But, tell me, Senor Cody: They say at the fort
that Boston Pete sent an Apache to the governor’s office
in Phenix, and that Apache hid in a wardrobe and
would have slain the governor had you not interfered.
Have I heard it right?”

“You have part of it right,’ answered the scout. ‘‘Bos-
ton Pete sent one of his Apaches to Phenix, and the
Apache climbed through a window of the governot’s
office and made an attack on him; but Boston Pete,
after he was captured, said that the Indian had not been
sent to Phenix to injure the governor.”

“Why, then?’

“Pete said that there was something in the governor’s
office that the Apache was going to get. But the ved
was interfered with before he could purloin the object,
whatever it was.’*

“Carramba! May it not have been this skull of Nar-
bona that the young Mexican was to get ?”

This was a notion that had not as yet occurred to the
scout. It came to him now with all the force of stipreme
conviction.

“Francisco,” he cried, “that’s a bull’s-eye! What the
Apache crawled through the governor’s window for has
been a mystery to me ever since Boston Pete was cap-
tured and told us about that redskin’s intentions. The
fellow was after the skull of Narbona! Boston Pete had

lost it, and he was afraid of losing his hold on his —

That was why he sent after the skull.’

tricky red allies.

“Dose Inchuns vas goot shtealers,” averred the baron.
“Dot retskin vould haf got der skull oof Puffalo Pill
hatn’t peen aroundt to put some shpokes in his vheel.”

“But what gets me, Francisco,’ went on the scout, “is
this: How did Boston Pete come to lose the skull in the
first place?’

“Sefior, the skull was with the redskins who tobbed
me,’ answered Francisco.

_ “How did the redskins happen to have a piece of prop-
erty that was so valuable to Boston Pete? Pete’s power
over the Apaches was measured by their superstitious
regard for the totem. Naturally, Pete would take mighty
good care of the totem!”

“Si, but perhaps Boston Pete was a the redskins
who held me up, sefior.’

“You did not see him?”

“I saw only red men.
eh?”

“Not as a red man, Francisco. If you had ever seen
Pete you'd know that. He is a regular mountain of a
man, and he wears a jungle-like beard that comes down
to his cartridge-belt.”

Pete could disguise himself,

 

*See No. 465 of the Burraro Birt Srortes, “Buffalo Bill's
Apache Clue; or, A Little Work for the Governor.”

tae “BUPPAEO BILL STORIES,

 

 

“Tt may be that the Apaches stole it.”

The scout shook his head.

“They wouldn’t have stolen it from Pete;” he declared.
“That would have meant, to them, a turning against their
leader, and a bringing down on theit heads of the wrath
of Narbona. No, Francisco, it got ittto the hands of the
Apaches in some other way. Perhaps that part of. the
matter is something we shall never know; but I will
know who it was that handed the forged letter to the
governor !”

“Dot’s righdt,” agreed the baron. “Ve'll findt dot oudt
oof if takes a leg. No feller can make some monkey-
doodle pitzness like dot mit us, und get avay. Now y

The door opened and the old negro staggered in. He
was clawing at the air, with his skinny black hands and
mumbling to himself.

“What's the matter with you, Uncle Gus?”
the scout.

The negro was Hannibal Augustus Mark Anthony
Jones, and, for the last few days, he had fastened himself
to the scout*like a barnacle. He declared that he was
the scout’s “official mascot,” and that the Cody-luck was
in his sole charge. The scout humored the amiable old
fraud, and at that moment was paying his hotel expenses:
simply because he had done a little telling work at the
time Boston Pete was captured.

Uncle Gus sank down in a chair,
ceiling and writhing.

“He has got some fits,
baron.

“Ah ain't,” yowled Uncle Gus; “ah’s done got de prog-
nosticums! Jess wait a li'l minit, marse. De h’ants is
er pullin’ me right smart. Ah’s seein’ things, yase Ah is,
Br-r-r !”

And, with that, Uncle Gus writhed some more. He
felt, no doubt, as haat he was earning his board and
keep.

“Prognosticums !" grinned the baron, choking with the
fun of it. “Dot feller talks der. English langwidge like
some chinks. Oof I couldn’t do pedder as dot, I vould
make signs, yah, so.”’

Uncle Gus suddenly ceased his contortions and arose
from his chair with great dignity.

‘““Marse Cody, sah,” said he, “‘ Ah’s yo’ official mascot.
Ain’t dat right?”

“That seems to be the case, Uncle Gus,” acknowledged
the scout. “You ve never been appointed to that high
position, but you’ve just grabbed hold and I haven’t had
the heart to shake you off.”

“All de mawnin’, Marse Cody,’ pursued Uncle Gus,

“Ah’s been mascottin’ on de front perzaza tuh beat de
band, Ah doan’ reckon Ah evah had sich er ha’d job.
Dem Jonah- boys was thicker erroun’ you’, boss, dan flies
erroun’ a merlasses bar’l, but Ah done pawed ° em all off,
De sun ob luck am er chinin’ froo de rent, en whut does
yo’ think Ah seed in dat tush ob sun? Whut does yo’
think Ah seed?”

“Give it up, Uncle Gus. What did you see?”

“De h’ants showed me er ‘young greasah man, yase,
suh ; en de h’ants say, es plain as what Ah’s talkin’ tuh
yo’ dis minit, de h’ants say, ‘Hannibal Augustus, yo’
Marse Cody is in er powerful hard row er stinmps,’ dey
Says, ‘an ef. yo’ keep him out ob trouble,’ de h’ants says,
‘yo’ got tuh work at de mascottin’, boy.”

 

demanded

looking up at the

I bed you!” exclaimed the

 
 

 

6 : “ THE BUPFALO

“Well, you're right on the job, aren’t you, Uncle Gus?”
asked the scout, smothering a laugh.

“Desso, desso,”’ answered the old negro, ““Ah’s on de
job, Marse Cody, an’ Ah’s gwine tuh stay on de job twell
Ah git yo’ out ob dis hyah Jonah bizness. Dem h’ants
say tuh ole Hannibal Augustus, “Take dis prognosticum
en gib hit to yo’? Marse Cody—look out fo’ dat young
Greasah man on de sorrel haws.’ De h’ants tell dat tuh
Uncle Gus, en dey say, ‘Dat ’ar young greasah man is on

-de road; he’s er comin’ tuh Solomonsville, en he’s erbout

due hyah now.’ Keep yo’ eye out, Marse Cody. Dat’s
de word from yo’ official mascot. Now, ef yo’ all will
excuse me, Ah’ll go back en keep a-rootin’.”

Still with his highly important air, Uncle Gus elimi-
nated himself from the room. The baron rolled over
on the bed and kicked his heels.

“Vat a foolishness!” he gurgled ; “‘vat a funny pitzness!
Dit you efer see anypody like dot nigger feller mit his
prognosticums ?”’

Juan Francisco had fen an interested and a puzzled
spectator and listener to the wanderings of the aged
negro. , 7

“Diablo!’ he exclaimed.
Sefior Cody?”

“He’s an old humbug® laughed the scout, “but he
makes so much fun for me and my pards that we’d miss
him if we ever cut him out of our herd.”

“He has no power over the gods of luck, no?”

“Certainly not! He’s as much of a fake as that skull
of Narbona, but——”

“He said, did he not, that a young greaser was on
the way into Solomonsville, and that he was riding a
sorrel horse?’

“That's what he said, but he’s liable to say most

“Look f°

Francisco, who sat close to the open window, pointed
through it in the direction of the road.

A young. Mexican, sitting on a sorrel horse most grace-
fully, was, at that very moment, riding up to the hotel.
From the Mexican’s saddle-horn swung a black bag.

“What ails the black man,

 

39

CHAPTER IV.
THE MAN WITH THE BLACK BAG.

“Sangre de diable’’ murmured Francisco. “Is it not
strange, sefior, that your black mascot should be able to
tell how this young Mexican was coming into town?”

This seemed to be a proof of the mascot’s extraordi-
nary powers in the realm of divination, and the baron
was thunderstruck.. What if he had been taking Uncle
Gus as a joke, and he turned out to be the real thing?

Buffalo Bill laughed.

“There’s nothing strange about. that, Francisco,”. said
he. “This young Mexican must have come from the
east, and if you stand in front of this hotel and look off
to the east you can see a rider on the trail for more than
a mile. Uncle Gus saw the Mexican coming, so he blew
in here and let off ‘a ‘prognosticum.’ ”

“Dot’s der vay oof it,” agreed the baron. “Der plack
feller don’d know vat’s aboudt to habben any more as
me. He vas schust making some grand-shtand blays.”

“But he said that this young Mexican was an enemy,
sefior,’ pursued Francisco.

BILL STORIES.

“That was a guess on the part of Uncle Gus,’”” said
the scout. “The guess may be trite, or it may be wrong.”

“And the black bag %

“There are lots of black bags in this country, I reckon.
You Mexicans, Francisco, seem to have a fondness for
toting personal property around in black bags. If this
newcomer is an enemy, we'll soon find it out; and if
he’s . ;

Bang, bang’, bang! Again some one was pounding on
Buffalo Bill’s door. The baron went to the door and
pulled it open.

“Py shinks,” said he,™‘oof id ain’d Chim.”

Yeg, it was Jim, the clerk, and his red face was split
in a wide grin.

““’Nother greaser askin’ fer Buffalo Bill,” he yelped.

“Is his name Juan Francisco?” inquired the scout.

“T asked him, but he wouldn’t say. Ef he’d allowed
it was, by thunder I’d have downed him like ye told
me ter do.”

The scout went out into the office, requesting Fran-
cisco and the baron to remain behind while he was hav-
ing his preliminary talk with the newcomer.

The young fellow’s black bag was by the counter, and
the younefellow himself occupied a chair, and, with
careless grace, was manufacturing a cigarette. He was
slender, and there was a panther-like grace in all his
movements—a grace that was heightened by the gaudy
Mexican clothes which he wore. This clothing con-
sisted of the usual high-crowned hat, velvet jacket, sash,
and trousers with flaring bottoms. |

“Sefior Cody?’ queried the youth, calmly lighting his
cigarette.

eVies 7

The Mexican’s voice was of fine timbre, mellow, and
smooth, and flowing.

Two rough-looking inhabitants of the town had
strolled into the office and had settled themselves on a
bench at one side of the room. They were regarding
the youth and the scout with passive interest.

Jim, behind the counter and leaning over it, was fol-
lowing developments with his usual grin.

“T am Manuel Silva, sefior,” proceeded the youth, “a
stranger in this town but a friend of what you call law
and order. My father was slain by Apaches, years ago,
and I hate the red scoundrels, and am always anxious to
do something to wipe out the debt they owe me.”

“You speak English pretty well, Silva,” hazarded the
scout.

“Why not?” Silva blew neat rings of smoke toward
the ceiling. “I have spent most of my life north of
the Rio Grande.”

Buffalo Bill never forgot a face.

 

 

There was some-

. thing familiar about Silva, and he was racking his brain

to think where and when he had seen him before.

“Where do you live, sefior?” he asked.

“I work in the copper mines at Globe.” ¢

“What is it you want with me?’ :

“T have heard of your capture of Boston Pete, and of
your fight with Boston Pete’s red renegades. I have
heard, too, that Pete’s daughter, Lasca, is trying to make
herself leader of these. outlaws, and that Sangamon
Charlie is fighting with her for control of the gang. I
have as much cause to love Sangamon Charlie as I have
to love the Apaches. If you are going to follow up your

SETA TS i cata

  
     
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
     
    
    
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
   
 

operations against the renegades,

q

Senor Cody, I am

 

here to help you.”

The scout guessed that Manuel Silva was under
twenty. As he spoke, he moved his shoulders in a grace-
ful swagger—but none the less a swagger.

“IT am going after the renegades, Silva,’ said the
scout, “but I don’t want to take you. You might get
hurt.”

The two rough-looking men on the bench snorted
derisively.

“He mout sp’ile his clothes,’ said one.

“Er git his purty face powder-marked,” added the
other. :

Silva jumped around in his chair.

3

Anger flashed in

his eyes as he looked at the two men, and one of his slim
‘hands flew to the breast of his jacket and half drew a

dagger.

At this, the two men went into a roar of laughter.

“Ain’t he cunnin’!” chuckled the one who had Spoken
first. “He’s almost got a notion ter carve us up.’

“Don’t butt in, you two,’ frowned the scout. “This
little talk is between Silva and me. You'll~hush, or I'll
take a hand myself.”

“They don’t know me!” fautiered the youth, showing
two rows of white teeth like an_ ill-humored wildcat.
“Maybe you don’t think I can fight, Sefior Cody,’ he
went on; to the scout, “but give me a try-out; let me
show you what I can do. If | get hurt, that’s my
business.”

“How can you help me?”

“T can help you sefior, by showing you where Sanga-
mon Charlie can be found.’

The scout studied Silva keenly.

“Vou know that?”

Ves

“How does it happen that you can live at Globe and
keep such close track of Sangamon Charlie, who hangs
out so much farther to the south?”

“T have been away from Globe for some time, sefior.
While I shave been away I have been working to some
purpose.’

“Do you know where the girl Lasca is, as well?”

fot do. 29

“Can you help me capture both of them?

“TF can, and 1. will. You are only to speak the word.
It is dangerous business

The scout’ s lips twisted into a smile, at that.

“T should think so, naturally,’ said he,
good many Apaches in the gang n

“Hey!” shouted Jim, the clerk. “Look at that thar
bag, will ye? I'll be hornswoggled if 1 ever seen a bag

99

 

 

-act like that afore.”

Jim was leaning over the counter, his eyes on the bag.
The bag was moving slightly—not leaving the spot where
it rested, but bulging out, first on one side and then on
the other.

“What's the matter with that bag of yours, Silva?”
inquired the scout. |

The Mexican laughed.

“There is a rattlesnake in the bag,’ he explained.
“My unele, at Globe, has the rheumatism-and he wanted
some rattlesnake oil, So, for that reason, I have caught
a good big snake for him,” «

“Pah!” said one of the men on the bench, disgustedly.
“Why didn’t ye kill the reptyler Whyever did ye

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

  

“There are a ,

   

want ter come luggin’ a sidewinder, alive, inter a civi-
lized community like this hyer?”

“That is my business,” said the youth eurtly, “and
not yours. As I was saying, Senor Cody,” he went on,
to the scout, “I can take you to this place where you can
find Sangamon Charlie. The villain will fight, but you
can capture him. It only remains for you to say when
we shall start.”

The scout had not unlimited confidence in Silva; but,
if he really knew where Sangamon Charlie could be
found, it would be well to engage his services.

“How far away is it?’

“In the mountains south of Adobe Wells, on the trail
to Grant.”

“When do you want to start?” %

“You will go with me, then?” asked Silva,

“Ves. 3?

A gleam of satisfaction darted through the youth's
dark eyes.

“Buenos !’ said he. “We will go directly after dinner.
If we do not make haste, sefor, Sangamon Charlie may
leave the place where he is staying.”

“We will start. after dinner. You will——

Just at that moment something happened. The cause
of it all was Jim, the clerk.

There was, in Jim, a broad, humorous vein, which ted
him into perpetrating practical jokés. While the scout
and the young Mexican were continuing their talk, Jim
thought. it mould be great fun to let ihe rattler out, of
the black bag.

What the consequences might be to himself, he did
not stop to determine. All he was thinking of was stirs
ting up the two men on the bench.

Boubling down over the counter, Jim untied the cord
that secured the top of the bag; then, lifting himself so
that his elbows rested on the counter, he prenteded to
be busy with a pencil and a piece of paper, All the time,
however, he was covertly watching the bag and waiting.
for the rattlesnake to appear.

The rattlesnake did not show itself. On the contrary,
the movements of the bag caused it to drop over on one
side. Something round and brownish-white rolled from
the open mouth—rolled with a clatter out upon the hard
floor.

Jim gave a yell of consternation, and the yell was
taken up by the two men on the bench, The scout and
the Mexican leaped to their feet.

Not till that moment had the scout’s attention -been
called to the bag since Jim had first spoken about it.

Silva’s move, at that moment, was extraordinary. He
jerked the dagger from the breast of his jacket, and,
with an agile leap, made a sweeping thrust with it.

Quick as a flash the scout grabbed his wrist, giving it
a wrench that caused the bell-erowned hat to fall from
the youth’s head to the floor.

The two men on the bench, in a spasinm of superstitious
fright, rushed to get out of the room. One went by the
door, and the other, in his hurry, began climbing through
a window.

The cause of their sudden activity was this:

A skull had rolled. out, of the black bag, and, with
wierd, eccentric jerks, was clattering across the floor
in the direction of Buffalo Bill. ase:

Astounding though this spectacle was, it in:no way
interfered with the swift working of the scout’s lips.

’

  

   
     
  

  

SO appa a a a aaa
 

 

THE BUFFALO

a

“Steady, Silva!” he cried. “So you’re the fellow who

called on the governor and gave him that forged letter,
T’'m mighty glad you called on me, and that
We'll palaver

are you?
you brought the skull of Narbona along.
a little about that skull.”

CHArTER V.
A BOLD MOVE.

“It’s mine!” cried the youth shrilly. “Touch that
skull if you dare!’

~ “What ails the pesky thing?’ whooped Jim, dancing
around the end of the counter.

His eyes were bulging from his head and he seemed
undecided whether to stand his ground, or take to his
heels through the dining-room door.

“It’s some trick, Jim,” said the scout,
Silva firmly by the hand. ‘Take charge of it.
up and put it back in the bag.”

Jim took a step toward the skull. Then, apparently
of its own volition, the grewsome relic changed its
course, and rolled over in his direction.

‘The clerk yelled and leaped backward.

“Not me!’ ‘he cried, in a panic. “I wouldn’t tech the
bloomin’ thing on a bet.”

Silva began struggling harder than ever. The scout,
giving his entire attention to the Mexican, suddenly
heard a tramp of running feet behind him, the sound of
a blow and a heavy fall, and then a hoarse oath from
Jim.

Turning his head, the scout saw a Mexican scooping
up the skull in his hands. It was the Mexican with the
scar—the one who had come first, that morning, and
had claimed to be Juan Francisco. Jim was on the floor.
The Mexican had rushed into the office from the dining
room and had struck the clerk out of his way.

“Sangamon Charlie!” cried Silva. “Stop him!
let him get away with the skull!’

-But Sangamon Charlie was already hustling back
toward the dining room, the skull in the crook of. his
left arm. and a drawn revolver in his right hand.

"iKeep. off,” ‘he roared, “or lead Tl be flyin’. e

Jim rolled over in the hoy pe of barring the detoce ae S
path and grabbing him by the knees. Sangamon Charlie
leaped into the air, kicking a with one ‘of his heavily
booted feet as he did so. ‘

The clerk, dazed, struggled blindly to his feet, getting
‘squarely in the scout’s way.

Buffalo Bill, realizing that Coen Charlie was a
better capture than Silva, had flung the youth from him
and started after the audacious scoundrel who had so
boldly stormed the hotel.

Jim felt instinctively that he was due to fight some-
body, and his befogged brain did not allow him to dis-
criminate between friend and foe.
in his arms, the clerk hung to him like grim death.

While the scout was roughly freeing himself, the baron
and Juan Francisco rushed into the office, attracted by
the sound of the excitement.

“Take care of that young Mexican, baron!’’ shouted
the scout, breaking away from the clerk and dashing into
the dining room.

still holding
Pick it

Don’t

There was only a frightened Chinaman in the dining

soom, and he was lamely picking himself up from the

¥

Ht 3a a ee mn RGA Orley om ain mn ome ators lencmtir
acon ae mt A ef mr tern ey nn, rm seman ape mn ae nn cen enon

on

Grabbing the scout.

BILL STORIES:

floor, Evidently he also had got in Sangamon Charlie’s
way. iC

“Where did the man go?
of the Celestial.

“Him lun likee Sam Hill thloo kitchen,
Chinaman answered.

Through the kitchen trailed the scout;-then out at a
rear door, T here, behind the hotel, every thing was quiet,
Hoofs, however, could be heard drumming in the dis-
tance. Shading his eyes with his hand “and looking
southward, Buffalo Bill made out the lithe shape of Navi,
battle Cayuse’s pinto. The mustang was’ stretching out
like a greyhound, and the Piute boy, crouching low over
the pony’s neck, was plying his quirt sharply.

Fortune had so manipulated matters that Cayuse had
been able to take Sangamon Charlie’s trail. The scout
could not have asked for a luckier circumstance. The
Piute would follow the fleeing scoundred, and when he
left the trail it would be to come back and tell the scout
where and how to go and capture the man.

- As the scout returned through the dining room to the
office, another phase of this daring dash of Sangamon
Charlie’s presented itself to him. The man must have
been in‘the room back of the office listening to the talk
going forward between the scout and Silva. How long
had he been in the dining room, and how had he got
there without being seen?

The Chinese cook was leaning against the wall, solici-
tously rubbing his yellow chin,

“Where did: that man come from, Yip?” he tasked.

“Him jump flom basket,’ answered Yip, pointing to a
big Indian basket that was used for a clothes hamper.
“Him lun into othel loom, lun out some mo’, hittee China
boy, ‘makee skip befo’ my can say Jack Lobinson.
Whoosh! Plaps him bustee China boy’s chin.”

The scout saw that the lid of the basket was thrown
back. The receptacle was sufficiently large for a man
to hide himself within it.

“Do you know when the white man came in Here
and got into the basket?” asked the scout.

“My no savvy,’ answered Yip; “my no see um,”

Seeing that nothing of importance could be developed
from the Chinaman, the scout passed on into the office.
The room was rapidly filling with people from up and
down the street, all attracted by the recent excitement.
A babble of loud voices greeted the scout as he stepped
through the door.

Jim’ was sitting on the counter, leaning against the
wall at the end of it, and nursing a swelling eye Tic
was telling how Sangamon Charlie had made his dash,
and how the skull had walked all around the office and
said “howdy”. to every man in the place.

The baron, a revolver in each hand, was holding the
frantic Silva in his chair with the muzzles of the guns.
The two “hassayampers,” or rough-looking citizens of
the place, who had fled when the relic of Narbona acted
so queerly, were now back again, gingerly examining the
black bag.
ean ihe sheriff, Cody, 7 said a little man, approaching
the scout importantly, cand my name’s Dingle. What’s
the row? Do you need me?”

“We don’t need anybody, Dingle,” answered the
scout. “If all you fellows had been around hete fen
minutes ago, you might have been of some use. The
only way you can help us, just at present, is to, clear
this room.’

" the scout asked hurriedly

’ the aggrieved

 
   

 
 
 

While the sheriff was getting the townspeople out of
the office—not an easy job, by any means—the scout
helped the baron take Silva to his—the scout’s—room.

Francisco followed them.
| “More has habbened in dis hodel dis morning,” de-

a clared the baron, “dan has habbened it a mont’ oof Sun-
tays pefore. Yah, you. bed you!
feller, Puffalo- Bill, und vat did he vant ?”

.The scout, briefly, told what Silva had professed to
be the business that had brought him to Solomonsville,
, and finished by describing the queer movements of the
skull and the swift work of Sangamon Charlie.

The baron and Francisco were amazed.

“Vat made der skull act like vat it dit?” breathed the
| baron. :
: There was a fearsome look on his face. He was con-
fronted by the supernatural, and the dread mystery of
the skull’s performance shook his nerve.

“All that was a trick of some sort,” replied the scouts
“You are sure, are you, baron, that you saw the man
with the scar tide away from the corral and into the
country ?”

“Yah, so helup me!” declared the: baron.
so fast as I can’t tell.’

“He couldn’t have gone very far.. He came back again
and hid in the big basket in the dining room. He must
have been in the basket all the time I was talking with
Silva. He wanted me to give him a letter, asking the
governor to turn over the skull'to him. Then, very for-
tunately for Sangamon Charlie, along came Silva, here,
with the totem. Sangamon Charlie got it, and he didn’t
have to go‘ to Phenix for it, either. It was as bold a
game as T ever saw worked.” \

“And this Sangamon Charlie,’ came bitterly from
Silva, “will make himself leader of the Apaches! That
skull will do the-trick for him. I was a fool for ever
stopping here. The skull would have helped me just as
it will now help Sangamon Charlie. But I wanted Buf-

“He vent

-falo Bill to capture the white ruffian and get him out of ©

my way for all time. Now, all is lost!”

Silva clutched his hands convulsively together.

“You went to the governor with a letter purporting
to have been written by me?’ demanded the scout curtly.

“Yes. But what does it matter now? I have lost
what I worked for so hard.”

“Where and when did you write that letter?”

“Two days since, in a Phenix hotel.”

“You must slihe a pretty fair Americano~hand, if
what you wrote was able to fool the governor as it did.”’

“How did you know about the letter 2”

“The governor wrote me about it. This morning’s
stage brought the news. That was a very pretty yarn
you told me about yourself, Silva. Now, I want the
truth. Who are you, and where have I met you before?”

“You met me at Adobe Wells. I am the girl called
_Lasea. My father is the man you know as Boston Pete.
Sangamon Charlie is his enemy and mine.”

So far as surprises went, this was the capsheaf.

—

 

Chir a Ve

A TALK WAITER “LASCA,

hee

‘Buffalo Bill and his pards had encountered Lasca sev-

eral days before at an oasis in the desert. known as
Adobe Wells. There the scout and his compadres had

 

 

Pe ae pe eee enereT Wry nT Re er ntsrspriverem nr reer recreibtean Abe vtr

THE: BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

Who iss der yoong ~

ii aban a Wt cites

 

‘met with treachery, on the girl’s part, which had well-

nigh encompassed their destruction.

The girl’s father was aft American; her mother, a
Mexican. But this mixture of blood had leit Lasca a
pure Mexican type. Her use of English must have
pointed to some schooling on her father’s part.

At. Adobe’ Wells the girl had professed inability to
speak English at all. Had she foreseen the time when
she might be called upon to play such a role as now
claimed her attention?

Certainly, as a young Mexican man with a clever
ability in English, she had completely fooled Buffalo
Bill. He knew that he had seen the supposed young
Mexican somewhere, but he had not dreamed that she
was Lasca, Boston Pete’s daughter. Nor had he dreamed
that the girl could be so resoyrceful as she had shown
herself.

To forge a letter over Buffalo Bill’s name, to deceive
the governor, and to get away from Phenix witi the
skull of Narbona, pointed to an ability with which it was
hard to credit a Mexican girl.

But, clever as she was, by halting in Solomonsville
and boldly calling upon the scout, she had overreached
herself. There is always a flaw in even the most cun-
ning of criminals—some little point not properly coy-
ered which inevitably trends toward disaster.

“Lasca,” said the scout gravely, “I promised your
father, in return for certain information that he gave me,
that I would leave you to your own devices. I didn’t
think—and I don’t believe your father thought—that you
would seek to ally yourself further with the renegade
Apaches. If I had thought so, I should never. have
consented to letting you escape.”

“T imagine,” returned Lasca, rolling another ¢igarette,
“that you could not help my escaping from Adobe. Wells.
I was away with the Apaches | before you could get hold
of me.’

“Whenever I take a trail, I make it a rule to follow
it to the end. If I had taken yours, sooner or later you
would have been in the guardhouse at Fort Grant, along
with your father.”

The girl smiled incredulously.

“Why,” went on the scout, “should a girl like you try
to become the leader of a gang of wild Apaches? What
is there in such a dangerous and lawless life that makes

an appeal to you?”

The white teeth snapped venomously, and the large,
lustrous eyes gleamed like those of a wolf suddenly
aroused.

“T had not thought of ‘such a thing,” said Lasea, “until
I saw Sangamon Charlie, and he declared that he would
eet the skull of Narbona and make himself captain of:
the Apaches.. There is nothing I would not do to get the
best of Sangamon Charlie! Even according to my stan-
dards, he is a coyote. If ever a man needed hanging,
it is Sangamon Charlie. Suppose,” and here her voice
throbbed with the intensity of her anger, “he ever made
himself the leader of the Apaches? Would he be as care-
ful of human life as my father was? No! He would
burn, and plunder, and kill! That is what Sangamon
Charlie would do; and it is what he will do unless he can
be captured. With the skull of Narbona he will make
himself master of the redskins!”’

“What is there about the skull that makes it an Apache
totem? “4

| ‘ \
tN NT eee 5

  

     
PRS ee ene

 

 

 

 

 

eS SS NE

1G THE BUFFALO

A quick reserve was noticeable in the girl’s manner.
Shrewdness ran through her face.

“The skull is a totem,’ ”” she answered,
I can tell you.”
. “What makes it move as it does?”
“How do I know, sefior ?”
“TI am confident that: you do know.”

“Well, even so, I will not tell. The secret means
everything to the ‘Apaches. It may mean much to me.’

“It was the totem that gave your father’ power over
the Apaches?”

Ves. 99

“How did he let the totem get out of his hands?”

Anger once more rushed into the girl’s’ face.

“Sangamon Charlie hired one of the Apaches to turn
traitor and try to steal &he skull. That Apache was
among the warriors who stole the pesos from that man
there, Francisco, He lost. the bag. We know how
F rancisco took the skull to Fort Grant, and how the
colonel sent it to the governor. Few things occur in
Grant, or in Phenix, that were not revealed to my
father. My father sent an Apache to Phenix to steal
the totem out of the governor’s office; you, sefior, foiled
the Indian. After my father was taken, and the Apaches
showed signs of wanting to bolt into Mexico, I thought
of writing the letter and signing your name to it.

- “What you wanted, then,” proceeded the scout, “was
to get the totem and make yourself the leader of the reds,
thus putting Sangamon Charlie out of the running?”

a nodded.

“I wanted more than that, sefior. I wanted Sanga-
mon Charhe put. in the euardhouse at Fort Grant, where
he. would never again trouble me or the Apaches. That
is why Isstopped here, when I should have gone alone
into the hills with the black bag. But I had had so much
success in Phenix that I went. too far. Now, carramba,
see. where I am!’

“Would it be possible, by means of that totem, to
make the Apaches go back to their reservation and give
up their lawlessness?”

“It would. Whatever the totem orders, or whatever
the Apaches think the totem orders, that they will do.”

“Where are the Apaches now?’

Once more the girl drew back into her shell of reserve.

‘Fhat is my secret,” said she, decisively.

“Does Sangamon Charlie know where they are?’

eltc may be.”

“And were you in earnest when you came to this hotel
and asked me to go with you to capture Sangamon
Charlie?”

“Why not? 1 have everything to win by having San-
amon Charlie caught and turned over to the soldiers.
Why should I not try to help you capture him?”

“Could he be captured now, do you think 2”

Throwing back her head, Lasca loo ked thoughtfully
upward into. the curling cigarette smoke.

“It may be too late,” she answered; “anyhow, now
that he has the totem, the work would be doubly dang er
ous. All the Apaches will be at his back—all, to a man,’

“Are you afraid to help me try to make a prisoner of
Sangamon Charlie?’

“TP? Afraid?” The girl laughed sibillantly. aL es
plain sefior, that you- have not a very high opinion of my
bravery. Si! I should be glad to go.’

“T believe I will chance it, Pascas

“and that is all

mer emcee seer ee ea TI

‘ to its knees.

BILL STORIES.

cal warn you, though, that I will esa from you, if
1 Can

“Before Sangamon Chatlie is captured! re

“Not before. What would be the use? So long as
he has the totem, I would be foolish to place myself in
the hands of the ‘Agaches.”

“You will not be able to escape from me, Lasca,” said
the scout, gravely, “either before or after Sangamon
Charlie is captured; but, if you will make a promise, |
will still be glad to deal leniently with you.”

“What are the promises?”

“That you do not attempt to make ohicel a leader
of the red men; that you do not interfere with their
going back to the reservation ;
leave. this part of the country.”

“That I will never promise, so long as there is such a
thing as the totem, and I have a chance of securing it.’

An idea came to the scout. Why not bend all his
ehergies to securing the totem and destroying it? Thus,
he would trim the claws of Sangamon Charlie and destroy
the hideous fetich which alone kept the superstitious
savages at their lawless work in the hills. At the same
time, he would make it impossible for Lasca to follow
in. the footsteps of her father.

“You are a prisoner now,” said the scout, “and, as a
prisoner, you will help me capture Sangamon Charlie.
After that, we shall see what happens. Will the Apaches
blindly follow the totem, no matter in whose hands it
happens to be?”

“Yes. They think that the Great Spirit: sends the
totem where he wants the Apaches to follow.”

“Would they take me for a leader if it happened to fall
into my hands?”

The girl’s eyes sparkled with suspicion.

“They would, sefior,” she answered, ‘But you will not
be able to secure the totem now. It has gone from your
hands and from mine. Sangamon Charlie knows what
possession of it means to hin, and he will be wary and
careful.”

“T think Iam a match for Sangamon Charlie,”
scout, with quiet confidence.
“You ped you, Puffalo Pill,’ spoke up the baron.

said the

‘“Dere nefer vas some otdlaws dot vas more as a match

for you und me, und der resdt oof der bards.”’
Juan Francisco had sat listening. Not until now did
he venture to speak.

“Sefior Cody,” said he, “unless something is done to
get the skull of Narbona away from Sangamon Charlie,
then there will be a reign of lawlessness all through this
southern country such as never was heard of before.
If necessary, you must take any chance, run every risk,
to capture that. scoundrel. At the head of those red rene-
gades, he would become a demon, and no rancher or set-
tler, between here and the Mexican border, would be
safe. Iam not a fighting man; but if there is anything
I can do to help you, you “have but to speak.”

“Not many men must be taken with us, sefior,’’ said
the girl. “You have too many pards. If we win, it must
be by a dash, straight into the hills, trusting to luck to
bring us out again,’

A torm felled from under the bed and lifted itself
It was Uncle Gus. He had crawled out of
sight the moment the trouble was turned on in the hotel
office,

“Marse Cody,” said Uncle! Gus, “Ah’s gwine fh oy

and, finally, that. you,

pis

 

Sd

 

 
pis

 

 

' noon.

white man and all rode on into the hills together.

PN VereN eee AE NN RTS EE TES OE Ee

THE BUFFALO

nish de luck. Count on yo’ official mascot, sah, tuh
bring yo’ froo de trials en de trib’ lations whut come
a- pesterin’ erroun’ yo’ in de hills.”

CHAPYER. VII.

TAKING THE TRAIL.

Buffalo Bill waited until the middle of the afternoon
before taking the trail. He was hoping that Nomad and
Wild Bill would return from the hillg in time to take
part in this new move against the renegades. But they
did not come. —

Little Cayuse, however, returned oe in the after-
He explained that he was just leading Navi out
of the corral for a ride to the north of town when
he heard the commotion in the hotel. He started to turn
the pony back into the corral so he would be free to
investigate the cause of the excitement, when the man
with the scar ran out through the rear of the hotel and
around back of the’corral. It was plain that the man

was a fugitive, and equally plain that he must have been
doing something unlawful or he would not have taken
to flight.

Instead of turning Navi back into the corral,
Cayuse jumped to his back and started in pursuit of the
fleeing man.

The course led them south toward Adobe Wells. San-
gamon Charlie, of course, was aware that the Piute boy
was following him, and he left the trail north of Adobe
Wells and took to the rough country. Evidently he had
hoped to throw his pursuer off the track among the hills.

But a wounded buffalo might as well have tried to
throw a coyote off the track. No trail was too blind
for the Indian boy to follow.

Three times Sangamon Charlie had taken a shot at
Little Cayuse, and three times the boy’s wary vigilance
alone had saved him. It was only\ when Sangamon
Charlie halted his horse, turned in his saddle and held up
the grinning skull in both hands that Cayuse felt his
ardor fail and his heart grow cold.

Sangamon Charlie’s manceuvre -with the skull was a
queer one, and it was easy to see that he was working
some sort of a spell.

- Cayuse believed in spells, and he wanted nothing to do
with them. After that work with the skull, although he
still continued on Sangamon Charlie’s trail, yet it was
with fear and trembling, and. he carefully kept himself
out of Sangamon. Charlie’s sight.

Presently Sangamon Charlie met half a dozen Apache
Indians. The redskins rode at him with lances levelled,
but the white man lifted the skull, and instantly the lance
heads were lifted. The Indians made friends with the
Cay-
use, not daring to go farther, had returned.

This report of the Piute’s proved conclusively the
power Sangamon Charlie now wielded over the Apaches.
Already he had begun his campaign to make himself
leader of the red renegades.

Fo1 two hours Cayuse rested the pinto. At the end of
that time, Buffalo Bill, the baron, Lasca, and the Piute
started southward. The scout’s hope, forlorn enough,
was to try and capture Sangamon Charlie at the place
where Lasca had seen him camped, some days before.
It was hardfy fair to infer that the man would be in

BILE STORIES. es

his old camp, now that the totem had dropped into his
hands and his schemes had taken such a decided change;
but there was no other place to which the scout and his
companions could carry their investigations.

_Lasca took the lead. Both the baron and the Piute,
however, had received instructions from the scout, and
all three of the pards made it a point to keep close to
the Mexicana and to watch her warily. t

When darkness fell, they were in the foothills. Lasca,
knowing the country as she knew her two hands, held toa
steady pace, and was at no time puzzled by the thickening
night.

After two hours of this rough country, the party
reached the bleak, high walls of a cafion. Here the girl
drew rein and fet Le scout and his pards gather around
her. \

““We’re close to the place, sefior,’ said she.

“Ugh!” grunted Cayuse; “him Lost Burro Cajfion.”

“Ah!” murmured the scout. “If this is Lost Burro
Cafion, then somewhere in the gash is the place where
Boston Pete kept the herd of stolen horses; and, half a
mile beyond that natural corral, is the other place where
the stolen rifles were cached. The detachment from Fort
Grant was led up the cafion by Little Cayuse.”

‘Where the stolen rifles were cached, sefior,”’
Lasca, ‘is the place where I found Sangamon Charlie.
the Piute knows so much, then you do not need me.”

“Whether we need you or not, Lasca,” returned the
scout, ‘don’t forget that you dre a prisoner, and that you
must go with us,”

“Buenos! i

Without speaking Siler the girl headed her horse
up the cafion, the scout and Cayuse riding one on each
side of her. For several minutes only the ring of shod
hoofs could be heard in the gloomy and desolate defile.

The girl was first to break the silence.

“On the right,” said she, “is the opening into the nat-
ural corral. There is water and forage in the corral, and
a rope across the gully leading into it is enough to hold
back the horses from the cafion.”

The scout’s eyes sought the right-hand wall. The deep
shadows were rifted with a faint wedge-shaped glow
from the stars, marking the gully of which ie girl had
spoken.

The party continued on, halting again at a turn of
tie aetile,

“The cache,” said the girl, “is just around the turn.
If Sangamon Charlie is there, he may hear us coming
and get away.’

“Cayuse and I will go ahead on foot,”
“Baron, you will stay here with Lasca.”

Bear Paw and Navi were left together, Navi’s bridle-
reins oyer the scout’s saddle-horn, and Bear Paw’s reins
hanging from the bit-rings. In this manner, the two
horses would stand as though securely. tied, and the baron
would be left free to watch.the girl.  .

“Nodding vill habben mit us,” said the baron, thus
proving that he understood thoroughly what was ex-
pected of him.

Quietly the scout and his boy pard rounded the turn
and pressed ,closer to the right-hand wall. Here there
was an overhang of rock, the under surface flat, and a
dozen feet from the cafion bed. Cayuse paused just un-
der the edge of the overhang and listened, Then he
grunted, caught the scout’s arm, and led him straight
on into the blank darkness.

said

a

said the scout.

 
  

  
 
 

 
   
  
     
  
 
 
 
 
  

   

Se aie i an AARP SO

 

 

 

 
  
 
 
  

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
  

 

 

12 THE BUFFALO

Buffalo Bill, after taking half a dozen steps, felt him-
self brushing through an entrance, Half a dozen steps
farther, Cayuse released his hand.

“Light um mateh, Pa-e-has-ka,” he whispered.

The scout struck one of the sulphur fire-sticks on his
boot-sole. As the feeble glow fought with the darkness,
the boy pushed to a wall, groped for a moment on a
natural shelf and returned with a dry entrana, or buck-
horn cactus. The entrafia served the ancient cliff dwell-
ers as a candle, and it was now put to its ancient usage
by the scout and the Piute,

In its light, the scout was able to make a survey of
the interior of the space below the overhang.

On two sides the cavity under the projecting rock had
been walled up, leaving only a narrow door for entrance.
A barrier of heavy planks lay beside the door, and the
built-up walls were pierced with loopholes.

The place was a fort. If hard pressed, red renegades
could make a desperate stand under the overhang, block-
ing the entrance with the framework of planks and firing
through the small embrasures.

Running back to the solid wall of the cliff, the hang-
out measured some twenty feet across by a dozen the
other way. It was furnished with rude bunks filled with
greasewood brush, and with small bowlders for seats and
a large bowlder for a table. But there was nothing to
show that the place was at present used by either Sanga-
mon Charlie or the Apaches.

“No find um,” said Caytise, sententiously.

“He may have been here,” answered the scout, “but he
isn’t here now. That’s.a cinch. Since Sangamon Charlie
has secured the Apache totem, he has gone actively to
work to make himself leader of the reds.”

“Ugh! How you eall totem, Pa-e-has-ka?”

“The skull of Narbona.’’

“No like um! Apache like um?”

“The Apaches seem to be under the power’of the
totem. They follow the man who has it.”

“Wuh! Totem big medicine. Mesee um, Sangamon
Charlie show um to Cayuse. Cayuse sabe totem heap
big medicine. We no ketch um Sangamon Charlie while
he got um skull.”

This sort of talk was what Buffalo bill expected from
the little Piute, Cayuse had been born into the wildest
superstition, and a belief in the supernatural ran in his
blood.

“We'll capture the totem, Cavuse,” said the scout, “and
then we'll find it easy to get the whip-hand of Sangamon
Charlie.”

“How we find um totem? How we ketch um?”

“We'll have to trust to luck and our own wits for
that,’

Cayuse was harrased with doubts. He had every con-
fidence in the abilities of his beloved chief, Pa-e-has-ka,
but even a chief is powerless against totems.

While Cayuse stood in the entrance, watching and lis-
tening, Buffalo Bill rammaged around in the retreat, hop-
ing that he might discover something that would help
him in the work ahead. He found absolutely nothing.
When Sangamon Charlie, who had last occupied the

‘place, had moved, he had hidden or taken with him,

everything that might have afforded a clue to his pros-
pective movements,

Just as the scout was giving up his search, his attention
was called by a quick exclamation from Little Cayuse.

  

fake ec aA ae Lae kL)

  

BILL. STORIES.

Dropping the entrasia, the scout set his foot on the blaze,
snuffing it; he then made his way to the Piute’s side.

“I ook!” whispered the boy, moving to the edge of the
overhang, and pointing upward.

What the scout saw was a glow of fire. It came, evi-
dently, from a little distance back of the brink, on the top
of the left-hand wall of the cafon.

“Listen, Pa-e-has-ka!” muttered Cayuse.

The scout bent his head attentively, and to his ears
came a sound of distant yells—unmistakably Apache
yells. &

CHAPTER VIIT.
THE WILES OF SANGAMON CHARLIE.

‘“*Pachies,” said Cayuse sententiously.

“Ay,” answered the scout, “and where there are
Apaches, boy, there we'll be most apt to find Sangamon
Charlie”

“Wuh! ’*Pachies on top of cafion bank.”

“There must bea way up. We'll hunt for it, and have
a look at what’s going on. For all we know, the reds
may have Sangamon Charlie tied to the stake. That's
some kind of a celebration they’re having.”

‘“Mebbyso torture, huh?’

A swirl of Piute passions broke from the boy with the
word. The thought of torture recalled ancient fights of
his people with the Apaches, bringing before him visions
of combat, of capture, of scalps, and writhing victims.
The mere word fired his blood.

“Tt may be, Cayuse,” said the scout. “We'll hunt for
a path along the foot of the left-hand tvall.”

To eross the cafion and begin their seareh took them
only a few minutes; but the search, in that heavy gloom,
was difficult, and consumed time. At last, however, they
found what they were looking for—a narrow path an-
eline upward, scarcely wide enough for the hoofs of a
mountain goat.

To dare the ascent, with the wall overshadowing it and
screening its treacherous, places, was like rubbing elbows
with death; but the lure of possible discovery of some-
thing worth while on the brink, led the pards to essay
the path.

Cayuse, whose moccasined feet gave him firmer foot-
hold, sprang’ into the lead. The scout was literally at
his heels eyery foot of the way, for so steep was the
ascent that the boy’s feet were almost continually on a
level with the scout’s eyes,

Once the scout slipped. He would have plunged back
into the yawning. depths had his out-flung hand not
luckily clasped a projecting stone.

“Pa-e-has-ka!” quavered Cayuse, terror-stricken, from
above. :

‘All right, Cayuse,’ answered the scout, drawing him-
self upward into the path, “A loose rock gave way un-
der my foot, but I’m in the trail again.”

“Heap hard,” panted Cayuse, continuing on.

A few moments later, Cayuse himself had a narrow
escape. He fell backward upon the scout. Fortunately,
at that instant the scout was planted firmly, and he not
only remained steady under the impact of the bov’s body,
but he held the lad until he had regained his footing.

“Ugh!” muttered Cayuse. “Me climb all same squaw.”

   

 

 
Cb a

—

owe

—

' much nerve as Boston Pete, their captured leader.

   

THE BUFFALO

Then on they went, once more, the cries of the savages
growing louder and louder in their ears,

With a gasp of relief, Cayuse pulled himself over the
brink, The rim rock was lined with a growth of cholla
cactus. Screened by the scraggly, low-growing branches,
the pards lay flat and took in a weird drama that was
being enacted on a small level of ground not more than
a hundred feet away from them,

A big fire had been lighted, Cactus, dried thorn
bushes, mesquite brush and pieces of palo-verde fur-
nished the fuel.

Around and around this blaze, almost nude and stand-
ing out starkly: against the glow, danced at least two
score Apaches. As they danced, the Indians shouted and
sang. In every way it was a demoniacal performance.

The Apaches had knives in their teeth, and when each
had come to a certain place in his circular round, he
jerked the knife from his teeth, gave a blood-curdling
whoop, and lunged at an imaginary enemy on the ground.

But the scout and the Piute had witnessed too many
exhibitions of the sort to be at all shaken. It was the
usual savage method of rejoicing.

In the centre of the circle of redskins, a little way
from the fire, sat the man with the scar. His face, heav-
ily shadowed by the dancing flames, watched somberly.
He did not move, but sat, Turk-fashion, like an image of
stone.

On the ground in front of him lay a tee serape,
Sangamon Charlie’s glittering eyes moved from the ser-
ape to the Indians, then back to the serape; but his head
never turned.

No, the pards, crouching behind the cactus, had been
mistaken. Here was no torture. The dance was more

like a celebration of victory.

Suddenly, as one of the Apaches reached a spot in
front of Sangamon Charlie, he plucked the knife from
his teeth and. east it in the direction of the white man.
The blade whizzed murderously close to his head, com-
pelling the Apache on the opposite side of the circle to
up nimbly in order to avoid the point.

Sangamon Charlie never stirred.

The - next Indan likewise threw his scalping knife, and
it came even closer to the silent, motionless man beside
the fire.

Then, one after another, the blades were thrown, mak-
ing a cleaming line around the white man, Sangamon
Charlie took it. all as a matter of course.

The Apaches, picking up their knives and thrusting
them in their belts, made a change in their weird tactics.
This time they used lances. Each lance, the scout knew,
had its head steeped in rattlesnake yenom, A scratch
meant death, but stolidly Sangamon Charlie watched the
long hafts sailing toward him. He did not dodge, al-
though many of them fanned the air within an inch of
his head.

He had nerve, this Sangamon Charlie! The Apaches
were trying to discover, no doubt, whether he had as
They
must have been completely satisfied.

When the last lance had been hurled the circular dance
ceased. The Indians, coming to a breathless pause,
dropped down on the earth, a cordon of expectant
demons, waiting for some sign from Sangamon Charlie.

The white man’s first move was to produce a tobacco-
pouch and a bit.of corn husk. Out of these he made
himself a cigarette. An Apache leaned forward to poke

BILL STORIES. ae
a coal out of the fire with his lance. Sangamon Charlie
touched the cigarette to the coal and calmly smoked. He
knew the value of suspense on these untutored ckildren
of the desert. Not until he had finished the cigarette did
he offer the redskins what they were waiting for.

Hurling the stump of the cigarette into the fire, he bent
forward suddenly and snatched away the serape. A mut-
tered exclamation went the rounds of the Apaches—an
exclamation that was repeated by the little Piute at the
scout’s side. Buffalo Bill put out his hand and touched
Cayuse’s arm warningly. ‘The arm was shivering.

In front of Sangamon Charlie, revealed by the switch-
ing away of the serape, lay the skull, Certainly the relic
was a grewsome sight, played on by the flames. Expo-
sure to the weather had browned the skull somewhat,
but it looked almost white in the ghastly glare. @

Now, with leisure to look his fill at the totem, the scout
saw something which had before escaped him. This was
a steel arrow- head in the back part of the skull. The
arrow-head, buried in the bone by half its length, proved
conclusively how Narbona had met his end.

The totem faced Sangamon Charlie, the shadows of
the cavernous eyes staring up into the white man’s glit-
tering orbs. |

In the tragic silence following the first mutterings of
the red men, the skull began to move. At first, the
movement was a mere quivering as from some pent-up
force. The quivering grew into a right and left move-
ment, which gradually increased in “violence until the

skull overturned completely.

The Apaches, their eyes bulging from their heads
craned forward breathlessly to watch.

Over went the skull again, and then for a third time.
Finally it came to a halt at Sangamon Charlie’s knees.
He gave vent to a wild yell and picked up the totem.

Holding it to his ear, he pretended to listen to some
message. the bony jaws were giving him. For a full
minute he seemed to be taking in a communication audi-
ble to himself alone,

Presently he got to his feet, the totem under iis arm,

and began to talk, His language was a queer hodge-
podge of Spanish and Apache, ‘with now and then an
English word in common use on the border.
. Both the scout and the Piute were able to follow the
white schemer’s remarks. These were the finishing
touch to his schemes, the last of the wiles with which
he was beguiling the superstitious savages, ”

“Apaches,” said Sangamon Charlie, “the totem of the
red men tells me many things. You cannot hear the
spirit words—they are for the favored ones. Now,
Apaches, the favored one stands before you. What Nar-
hona of the Navajos tells Sangamon Charlie, Sangamon
Charlie tells to you. Thus says the totem:

“Tt is my will that my children follow Sangamon
Charlie. As Long: Beard was their leader of old, so
Sangamon Charlie-is to be their leader now. The
Apaches are to follow him, and to obey him, for when
he speaks, he will speak with the tongue of Narbona.
The totem favors Sangamon Charlie, and dropped from
the sky into Sangamon Charlie’s hands,

“It is not well for the Apaches to stay around Adobe
Wells. There are sealps to be had, and much plunder,
farther south. Here the Americano pony soldiers are too
many; to the south, there are no Americano pony sol-
diers, In two sleeps, the Apaches will follow Sangamon

a

 
          
      
      
    
    
   
  
  
 
 
   
  
    
    
  
  
   
    
    
  
   
    
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
    
    
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘defile.

14 i e

Charlie wherever Narbona chooses to send him. Thus
says the totem. Do my red brothers listen?”

A cry of approval came from the deluded Apaches.

“Buenos! went on Sangamon Charlie. “In two sleeps,
then, we will go far from the Americano pony soldiers,
and Pa-e-has-ka, the Long Hair; we will

At that moment there came a wild yell from the
bottom of the cafion—a yell followed by a tattoo of hoofs.

In a flash every Apache was on his feet; in a flash, too,
Sangamon Charlie had turned like a panther ready for
a leap. He gave a yell. What he said, neither the scout
nor Little Cayuse could hear.

They had rolled over the brink and were again in
the treacherous path, scrambling downward.

 

s OM ore

CHAPTER IX,
THE BARON'S TROUBLES.

The scout could only imagine what had happened in
the canon. Probably the Mexicana had escaped, or had
attempted to escape. The inopportune yell had been
given by-the baron.

With forty Apaches, aroused to murderous frenzy by
the wiles of their new leader, rushing toward him and
Cayuse, the pards had little time to get back down the
steep wall.

Their narrow escapes were many during the first part

of the descent, when haste made it necessary to abate:

some of their caution. In a few minutes, however, the
scout discovered that the Apaches were not taking that
particular trail downward. They had gone farther “along
the brink of the cafion, apparently to a more easy slope,
and were pouring over the rim like relentless spectres.

“Take it easy, boy,” panted the scout. “They’re not
getting down by this. goat path, and we’ll have time to
pay some attention to where we put our feet. -A slip
would land us at the foot of the cliff with broken necks.
That would be as bad as losing our scalps.”

“Dutch pard make heap trouble,” muttered Cayuse.

“He has a troublesome prisoner to deal with. Lasca
knows how to use her wits—and evidently she has been
using them. It was a mistake to leave the baron to watch
her alone, but I needed you to show me that hole under
the overhang.”

They were descending again, listening to the Apaches
farther along the slope and listening for some further
alarm from the cafion’s depths. Neither the baron nor
Lasca made any outcry that reached them, and only the
scrambling descent of the Indians could be heard.

At last, by good luck, the scout and Cayuse leaped
safely from the bottom of the path to the floor of the
At once they started for the place where they
had left the baron, the girl, and the horses.

They found Bear Paw and Navi, standing just as

_they had been left; but the baron and the girl were not

in sight.

“It is as I feared,” commented the scout. ‘The girl
gave the baron the slip and he has gone after her. If
Lasca ran up the gulch, then she will get in among the

8

THE BUFFALO

BILL STORIES.

Apaches, and probably lead the baron among them.
Mount, Cayuse, and we will scout forward. The Indians
are on their feet, and with saddle leather between our
knees they will have a hard time overhauling us.”

They rode around the turn.
from the noise they were making, had reached the bottom
of the cafion and were making a capture. Was it the
girl, or the baron, or both of them they had surrounded?

Buffalo Bill spurred onward. He had not gone far
beyond the turn when he heard a clatter of hoofs
coming toward him. The night was too black for him to
see who was coming.

“That may be either the baron or the girl,”
scout to Cayuse. “No matter which it is,
your best to stop the horse.”

“Him Dutch pard,” declared Cayuse.
running noise all same sick buffalo.”

Toofer, the baron’s mule, had a queer habit of trotting
with his front feet and running with his rear ones. CGa-

said th

“Mule make um

.yuse’s keen ear had detected the peculiar sound which

distinguished Toofer’s gait from that of any other riding
animal with which the pards were familiar.

A dusky blot broke out of the gloom, gliding Lilee a
black streak. A revolver barked, and a spurt of fire
showed itself for an instant. The leaden messenger sane
through the air between Buffalo Bill and Cayuse.

“Ged oudt oof der vay oder I fill you mit lead!” came
a warning in a Teutonic voice there was no mistaking,

“Baron!” cried the scout. “Let up on that gun-play,
will you? Do you want to shoot one of your pards?”

“Donnervetter !” exclaimed the baron, pulling his mule
to a halt between the scout and the Piute. “Vat a habbi-
ness to meed oop mit a bard at sooch a time! Und I shot
at you, only | didn’t know dot. Der savages iss t’icker as
ants in some ant hills, oop der cafion, It iss pedder dot
ve ged avay mit ourselufs, py shiminy!”

Realizing this, the scout turned Bear Paw and _ the
three pards got back around the bend in the defile. Here,
as there were no sounds indicating pursuit, they halted
for a space.

“What happened, baron?” asked the scout.

“Vell, I hat my drouples,” mourned the baron. “I
knowed I vas down for some hardt luck, py chincher,
aber I didn’t t’ink it vould come like dot.”

“Lasca got away from you?”

“Yah, so helup me. It vas some drick vat she wor
No laty vould vork sooch a drick !”

“What sort of a trick was it?”

“She got sick mit herseluf. I vas sidding on Toofer’s
pack alongsite, mit a gun in vone handt, ven der girl
say, ‘Ach, vat a tizziness I got! Vater,’ she say, mit a
groan, “‘vater.” Und den, down she vent oudt oof der
sattle. I chabbed der gun pack in der pelt vere I keep
it und vent afder vater. Schust.so soon as I started, py
shinks I hear dot horse oof hers running oop der gulch;

The Apaches, judging

Cayuse, >

 

 

 

 

 

af
ee

 
     
  

ad
v

 

 

‘some odder tunes pympy.’
She run righdt indo der rets, und dey svarmde all aroundt ~

OF Se ermB FERRI a

 

und der girl, she schust laughed. “Yah,” ground out
the baron, “‘she laughed in a vay dot made me madt all
ofer. I chumped on Toofer’s pack, und I say by mein-
seluf, “Vell, yoong laty,’ I say, ‘I will make you laugh

I ditn’t, aber der Inchuns dit.

her. Dey try to svarm all aroundt me, too, aber I vas
too kevick. Dit you see how dot Toofer mu-el come like
some shtreaks down der cafion? Toofer safed my neck—
dot’s righdt. I peen sorry as plazes dot der girl got
avay, aber how couldt I help dot?’

Little Cayuse grunted diseustedly. For a full-grown
man like the baron to be caught by such a trick, aroused

only the Piute’s contempt. The scout, however, looked
at the matter differently.
“You couldn’t help it baron,” said he soothingly. “The

girl said she would get away from us if she could.
Bringing her into the hills hasn’t helped us any, and her
getting away from you hasn’t benefited her in the least.”

“It iss oudt oof der hi pan indo der fire mit her,”
declared the baron, “I peen sorry dot she made der
preak, howsomefer. She vould be a goot ages girl oof
she only knew who vas her friendts.”

“Before we’re through ee this, Lasca_ will
know who her friends are.’

“Yah, I bed you! Vat’s nexdt on der brogram, hey! ?”

The scout had been watching and listening for sounds
from up the cafion. He could hear none, but he thought
it well to ride farther away.

In the gully leading into the natural corral, he and his
pards finally rounded up. There they dismounted. Leay-
ing their animals well within the gully entrance, they
stepped back to the edge of the cafion wall where they
could keep watch for approaching danger, and fell, to
canvassing’ the. situation.

The, scout apprised the baron of what he and Cayuse
had discovered.

“By shiminy grickets!’’ exclaimed the baron. “‘Say,
bard, ve got righdt indo der tick oof der gang, hey?”

“It seems so.”

The baron began to chuckle and laugh softly.

“Why you laugh, huh?’ demanded Cayuse.

“To the Piute, there was nothing humorous in the situ-
ation. That animated totem had afforded him food for
serious Povey

TL Taueh,” tiated: the baron aggressively, “pecause I
take der notion. Vile dis iss some free gountries, I bed
you a man can laugh, or he can cry, schust like he blease.
I haf hat my drouples, aber Vild Pill and Olt Nomat have
deips; der samé as me.” % ae

“What troubles are Nomad and Wild Bill having?”
inquired the scout.

baron,

“Vell,” explained the baron, “dose other two bards,

don’d haf someding to do mit dis pag oof dricks. Dot is
vere deir drouples come in. My drouples come in because

THE BUFFALO

a Ramen cimer eG sg MS AAAI a

  

BLL STORIES. 15
I did haf someding to do mit it. Vat aboudt
der girl, Puffalo Pill?’

“She'll not fare any too well in the hands of the
Apaches,” said the scout, “now that Sangamon Charlie
has been accepted as their leader.”

“Nix, I bed you. Dot’s vere she got oudt oof der fry-
ing pan indo der fire. Aber how can ve helup dot?”

“We'll have to do what we can to help her. I-don’t
know how, but something may put the work in our way.
In two sleeps, baron, Sangamon Charlie is planning to
take the Apaches south. So, whatever we do, must. be
done before the two days have passed. I’d give a good
deal, this minute, if Nomad and Hickok were with us.
We are only three, and our enemies number forty.”

“Toofer und me iss goot for dwendy oof der rets,”
boasted the baron. “Oof Cayuse can take care oof der
odder dwendy, den dot pats Sangamon Charlie for you.
Vat you tink?”

“T think that you’re having a dream. Whatever we
do, pards, we must do by stealth, hiding our hands at
To-night is the time for us to

Yah, 80;

every stage of the game.

work—if we can only find something to work at.”

“Ve might go oop on der dop oof der cafion pank,”’
suggested the baron. “Oof dot’s vere der rets vas hafing
deir tance, ae Sates Charlie vill go pack dere mit
der prisoner.’

“IT don’t think that’s our play, baron,” derhiiened Whe
scout. “Before we do anything, we must first discover
how things are up the cafion. We can do that best on
foot. Cayuse will stay here and watch the horses, and
you and I will do the reconnoitering.”’ ‘

“T vant it tistinctly ondershtood,” said the baron, “dot
Cayuse iss to dreat Toofer mit gonsideration. He don’d
like der mu-el, und [vant Cayuse to dreat him schust like
he vas a Horse.”

Cayuse grunted.

“Our Piute pard will do that,” said the scout. “If you
see any Indians coming this way, Cayuse,’ he added to
the boy, “take the horses through the gully and into the
corral.”’

“Ai,” answered Cayuse, “me sabe.”

Silently, and hugging the heavier shadows at the base
of the right-hand wall, the scout and the baron took their
venturesome way up the defile. |

Absolute quiet reined“in the gulch.
nor heard anything of the Apaches.

They neither saw

“Dey vas gone avay,’ hazarded the baron, “pack oop
on der dop oof der vall, vere dey vas. Und der brisoner
vent along. Dot’s der vay oof it, I bed you.”

The scout was of another opinion. He could not con-

ceive it possible that the Apaches, having been made
aware that they had at least one white enemy in the
cafion, could leave the defile without making a more thor-
ough search.

The stillness continued as ae pards da anced.

They

  

 
 

 

 

 

 

16 ' -THE BUFFALO

reached the bend, cautiously rounded it, and, still hug-

ging the right-hand wall, approached the hang-out under

the overhang.
Then, abruptly, Buffalo Bill paused. “Hist!’’ he whis-

_ pered to the baron, and directed his gaze in the direction
of the niche in the cliff.

- There was a light shining through the door opening

aud the small portholes.

CHAPTER X;
‘A QUICK CAPTURE.

“Who iss dot ?” whispered the baron excitedly. “From
vere does der lighdt come, Puffalo Pill?”

“From the place to which the girl was taking us,”
answered the scout, “the niche under the overhang.”

- “Ach! Der Inchuns iss dere, eh?”

The scout had been studying the darkness that lay
under the overhang, pierced as it was with little rays of
light.

“There is a horse hitched just outside the place,” said
he. “From what I can see of the anirnal it: looks too
large for an Indian cayuse. We'll creep forward and see
what we can discover, baron. Be careful, now. If you
make any noise, we’re Hable to get ourselves into a peck
of trouble.”

“I haf hat my beck oof drouple for do-nighdt,’’ de-
clared the baron. “Nodding more like dot vill come my
vay. Lead on, und-don’d haf some vorries aboudt your
Dutch bard.”

The scout went down on all fours and crawled. Foot
by foot he made his wary way along the base of the
cliff, then crawled in under the edge of the hanging rock
and came to one of the built-up walls.
close behind him. :

Lifting himself erect, the scout peered in through one
of the. loopholes.

The ‘baron was

4

Sangamon Charlie, and no one else, was in the stone
house. He had lighted ont of the entrafias and pushed
it into a cleft over the stone table. On the table lay a
pair of saddlebags.

Certainly this Sangamon.Charlie was a cool one. He
must have known he had at least one enemy at large-in
the cahon—if he had forced Lasea to speak, he knew, by
then, that he had three enemies, one of them the redoubt-
able Buffalo Bill, whom he seemed to fear.

Possibly the girl had told him nothing; possibly, too,
he believed that the one horseman who had escaped,
when the girl was: captured, had fled far from the cafion
and was not to be feared.

Be this as it might, Sangamon ‘Charlie was ee in the
stone retreat, smoking a cigarette and making deliberate
preparations for carrying out some scheme or other at the
back of his head.

 

BILE: STORIES.

He was sitting on a small bowlder by the table, when
the scout first got a look at him, folding up “his bell-
crowned hat and thrusting it into the breast of his coat.

His next move was to unbuckle his revolver belt, sag-
ging under its holstered guns, and buckle it around the
outside of his coat.. Then he arose from the bowlder,
bent over the saddlebags, and, from one of them drew
out a roll. The roll was white, and tied with a cord.

With. his knife, Sangamon Charlie slashed the cord.
A moment later he had shaken out a strange white gar-
ment, hooded like a monk’s robe.

Pulling the garment over his shoulders, he pushed it
down and arranged the bottom to suit him; then he drew
the hood over his head and pulled down a piece from the
crown to cover his face. The face-piece had holes cut
for the eyes.

- Standing. erect, covered from head to spurs with the
white garment, Sangamon Charlie presented rather a ter-
rifying and mystical appearance.

The scout thought he was rigging up for a ghost

dance, or for some Sther manceuvre to fix his hold more
firmly on the superstitious Apaches. Certainly, in his
present costume, he was ‘a sight to turn any Indian’s
head.

Picking up the saddlebags, Sangamon Charlie extin-
guished the flaring entrana.,

His next move, the scout was positive, would be in
the direction of the door. The door opening was only
a few feet from the scout.

Gripping the baron’s arm to signify that the moment
was ripe for action, Buffalo Bill glided to the opening.
The wraith-like form was just emerging.

With lightning-like quickness, the scout leaped on the
form, clutching it about the throat to prevent outcry.

Sangamon Charlie was staggered in more ways than
one, For an instant he made no resistance. This was
only for an instant, however, and then, realizing that
secret foes were upon him, he began fighting fiercely.

The gown hampered him. It was made of strong
canvas, and the weapons he had so carefully strapped
outside his coat he could not get at.

In his struggle, he fell backward against the edge of
the doorway, striking his head a resounding blow. At
once all the fight went out of him and he crumpled
down in a silent heap on the threshold of his old
hang-out.

The baron was jubilant.
short his

The scout, however, cut
rejoicing and warned him to silence.

“See if there is a rope on his saddle, baron,”
the scout.

ordered

The baron found the rope. When he got back with it’
the scout had dragged Sangamon Charlie inside the

‘walls and was busy about something which the Dutch-

man could not discover in the darkness.

SOD MN reed

cS
oy

_scout finished with his hands.
well for eyes, and the tying was securely done.

he declared.

Stade RS tte ae

THE BUFFALO

“Here iss der rope, bard,” said the baron.

“Get it on the prisoner, baron,” answered the scout,
“and mind you do a good job of tying.”

“Lighdt someding so dot I can see.’

“It won’t do. Go ahead in the dark. Here!”

Guided by the sound of the scout’s voice, the baron

stumbled toward him, barking his shins over the bowlder

seats.

“Hitting his head as he did,” said Buffalo Bill, work-
ing with one end of the rope himself, “was a lucky
thing for us. It made it easier for us to do what I’ve
got in mind. Lash his feet, baron.”

“Vere iss der dress vat he hat on?” queried the baron,
noting that the white gown had vanished from the pris-
oner.

"1 pulled 1 off,”

While the baron bound Sangamon Charlie’s: féet, the
Fingers served fairly

“Now,” said the scout, as he straightened erect, “sit
close to his head, pard, and hold a hand. over his mouth.
One yell might turn our luck into disaster. The Apaches
can’t be far from here.”

The scout continued to busy himself about something.
The baron heard him and wondered.

“Vat are you aboudt, Puffalo Pill?” he queried.

“Getting ready for a ghost dance, baron,”
puzzling answer.

was the

“Py shinks, meppy ve vill bot’ do some ghost dances
oof ve don’d take dis feller und ged pack py our horses.
You got your mind on someding, hey?”

“T have, baron. My mind just now is on Lasca. It
may be she doesn’t deserve the risk I’m going to take
for her; but she’s a woman, and to leave her in the
hands of those savages is more than I can. bring myself
to do.”

“She forched dot ledder, und she dit some pooty pad.

tings vile ve vas py Adope Vells; but, like you say, she
vas-a voman, und oof she needs helup, den ve should
eif it. Aber how?”

“A plan struck me the moment I saw Sangamon
Charlie covering himself up in this white gown. 4 be-
lieve it will work. It’s worth a trial, anyhow. a

“Ain’t Ito helup ?’””
“You're to help by taking care of the prisoner; and
that’s about as dangerous a part of the work as I’ve laid

out for myself.”

“I take care oof der brisoner, und you make a ghost
tance. Iss dot it?”

“Yes. I’m getting into the white gown. If I play my
cards right, the Apaches won’t know me from Sangamon
Charlie.”

Tremors went through the baron.

“Dot’s pudding your headt righdt in de&lion’s ‘mout? i
“You pud on dose vite tisguises, und you

SL sees aren | Sa iy ease ate i a

ee carmen tatoo
: re Ms

TERR Sa nage apenas ahi idigramaaa<" tahactleen

DILT STORIES. a

go vere der Apaches are as t’ieck as fleas; den dey findt
you oudt, und dot’s der lasdt oof Puffalo Pill. I von’t
shtandt for dot.”

“Listen, baron,’ returned the scout; ‘‘the skull is in
the saddlebags—Sangamon Charlie wouldn’t travel with-
out it. The skull is my passport. Even if the Apaches
knew I wasn’t Sangamon Charlie, they wouldn’t touch
me so long as I have the totem.”

' “You pud too mooch gonfitence in. der totem!”

“Not at all. I have seen the-influence. that skull has
over the reds, and I know what it will do for me. By
an unexpected stroke of luck, we have captured Sanga-
mon Charlie and the skull. All that is something I
thought we should be two or three days in accomplish-
ing, if we were to accomplish it at all. Now, all that
remains is to do something for Lasca. After that, baron,
we can ride back to Solomonsville with the satisfaction
of knowing that the governor stands ready to give Buf-
falo Bill and pards the promised ‘three times three.’ ”

99

“Vich sounds fine,” grumbled the baron, “aber I don’d
know. Tings iss somedimes pright, ven you see dem a
long vays aheadt, aber ven you ged glose dey don’d look
so goot., Vere you at, now?”

“l’m going through the saddlebags, hunting for the
totem.”

“Don’d pring it aroundt me ven you findt dot!” begged
the baron. ‘Dot totem has got on my nerfs.’

An exclamation escaped the scout.

“Vat it iss?” went on the baron.

“Phe totem isnt, here! answered the scout. 71
thought sure it must be in the saddlebags, and that
Sangamon Charlie wouldn’t dare let it get out of his
hands.”

Krom under the baron’s smothering fingers the pris-
oner emitted a mocking laugh.

CHAPTER XL
A DESPERATE ENTERPRISE.

“Put the muzzle of your revolver against the pris-
oner’s head, baron,” ordered the scout crisply, “and, if
he tries to talk too loud, pull the trigger. Take your
hand from his lips.”

“You can bank. on me, bard,’ growled the baron, in
his most savage tones. “I vould schust as soon shood
dis feller as to shtep on a raddleshnake.”

The feel of the cold muzzle against his forehead must
have had a quieting effect on Sangamon Charlie. The
mocking laugh had died on his lips and he was lying
quietly on the stone floor.

“What were you going to do with that disguise,
Sangamon Charlie?” ot the scout. “When you an-
swer, lower your voice.”

 
THE “BOUPEALO

18

“Who are you, anyhow?” asked the prisoner.
~“The man you talked with this morning in the hotel
at Solomonsville.” |

“Buffalo Bill! Well, by thunder, this here’s a sur-
prise. I guess you was some surprised yourself when
I jumped in on you and bolted with that totem.”

“We'll let that pass.
now, and——”

“Tt won't be for long. This cafion is surrounded with
*Pachies, and they're all mine, to a man. You've got me,
but you'll never get away with me.”

“We'll see. What were you going to do with this
dispuise P”

“It tickles the reds. [I was going to wear it when I
told ’em to get rid of na wildcat, Lasca.”

Po get rid. of her?

“Ain't that plain enough? This country can’t hold
that gal and me. Her dad was the leader of the ‘Pachies,
and she’s. been fighting me for the leadership of the
gang. When I know for sure she’s out of the running
for good,:Ull be easy in my mind.. And not till then.”

“You're a more murderous scoundrel than I thought,”
said Buffalo Bill quietly. “Your Apaches captured the
: pirk?’

“T guess you know that. Wasn't it one of your pards
that got away? Didn't he tell you?”

“Dot vas me,’ chimed in the baron. ‘‘You bed some-
ding for nodding I got avay, und I sure told der sgout.”’
“Where was the girl taken?’ went on Buffalo’ Bill.

“To a safe place, and not so very far from here. But
there are thirty “Pachies guarding her, so what good
would it do you to know just where she is?’

“Are there any Indians near this hole in the cliff ?”

“So blamed near, Buffalo Bill, that you’ll never get
away with a whole skin. You had your nerve, to come
chasing right in on the whole possey of reds! ” euess
you hadn’t a notion what you was up against.’

4

The boot’s on the other leg’

2?

“Ti anything happens to us, Sangamon Charlie,’ de-
clared the scout significantly, “something will happen to
you first. If your life is worth anything to you, you'll
do what you can to fend off trouble.”

“I'll chance that end of it. You go ahead and do
what you’ve got in your mind; then see what comes
of it.” |

The prisoner’s confidence in his Apaches rather
troubled the scout. However, a desperate enterprise
faced him, and he would not allow himself to be turned
back.

“Where’s the skull of Narbona, Sangamon?” he de-
manded. f

“That’s humorous,” chuckled the prisoner. ‘You was

banking on making use of the skull to save yourself,

and all at once you find you haven't got it., Say, if I
hadn’t knocked my head against the stones you'd. have
had more of a fight on your hands,”

Fa Neau heme e dt ta vinta aps es rykeodcalbe ldo ne Pte nea diale Lee lb ma OL Tay fee o a Sia Seat WN Ok ce i
a ae (bei ceo men thy tn ha ew wat ope ana “ se ©

BILL SYORLES.

“We're talking about the totem. Will you tell me

‘where it is?”

“It's under guard, the same as the Girl.) Five Of; the
huskiest warriors in the gang are taking care of the
totem. Boston Pete used the five bucks for that pur-
pose, and, as I’m trying to drop into Pete’s shoes, [|

thought best to make use of the guard.”

There was silence in the room for a few minutes.
Buffalo Bill was thinking deeply, the baron was worry-
ing, and Sangamon Charlie was concerned with reflec-
tions of his own. That he failed to consider himself
in a serious situation was evident by the trend of his
talk,

“Tve-put ina pretty hard day,” . rst ad
blow in on you at the hotel in Solomonsville and pre-
tend to be Juan Francisco. You didn’t bite at that hook.
By dough luck, the real Juan Francisco came while I
I found out who was in
My. hotse was

said he.

was In your room with you.
the office, so I left by the, window.
hitched close to the corral, and I hit the breeze toward
the hills. Working around toward the east and west
trail, I saw somebody on a sorrel horse making for
town. There was a black bag at the saddle-cantle on
the sorrel horse, Then it flashed over me that the young
fellow was Lasca, and that she had beat me out at the
governor's. She had too big a lead, and I couldn’t hope
to overtake her; but I did the next best thing and
shadowed along. She hitched in front of the hotel and
went on. I’m a Digger if that move didn’t set me
guessing !

“Well, I hitched, too, took a chance, and got into the
hotel and into the big basket in the dining room. I
could hear all that went on in the office, and followed
developments mighty close. At the right time I made
the dash—and got away. Now I’ve got the reds by the

short hair—and you, too, if you only knew it.”

"That
said the
Apaches
they ?”

sort of talk’s pretty cheap stuff, Sangamon,”
scout. “With that white disguise on me, the |
won't know the difference between us, will

It was, of course, altogether too dark to see the pris-
oner, but there was no doubting the consternation this
hint of the scout’s had made on him.

“Are you going to try a game like that?” he mumbled.
“I am,” replied the scout.

“Without the totem to see you through?’

“Yes, without the totem.”

“Bid your friend a long farewell when you pull out,
then,” taunted Sangamon Charlie.
each other again.”

The baron gulped hard.

“Pedder tink it ofer s : f it” i

edder tink it ofer some more, Puffalo Pill,” he im-
plored ; “don’#go und do someding pefore you make oop
your mindt,”

“You won’t never see

sist tal pk at hen i ee i i a

 
 

THE BUFFALO

“My, mind is made up, baron.” The scout again ad-
dressed the prisoner. “When did yougget the idea of
making yourself leader of the Apaches, Sangamon ?”

“While Pete was still bossing the outfit. Pete run
the gang in a way that made me tired. He was afraid,
Pete was. Never a red must take a scalp, or come too
close to a vital place with his lead. Pete was afraid of

getting swung if the soldiers nabbed him. That’s where

he was lame. I seen it, and I knew I could run the gang
a lot better. I’d have had the totem a long time ago if
one of the ’Pachies hadn’t lost it, the time Francisco
was held up.”

“When did you see and talk with Lascéa last ?”

“Just before I came here to the rock hang-out to get
into my ghost-dancer outfit.” °

“T mean before that?”

“Four or five days ago, right here. I had a knife in
my fist, but she covered me with a gun, from the door,
before I could use the bowie. Then we had a talk, she
over the sights of her gun and me with the chopper in
my mitt, both of us watchin’ each other like cats. I said
I was going to have her-father’s job, and she allowed
that he had left it to her. I told her I’d get the totem,
and that would fix me out. She said she’d get hands
on the totem first. Oh, it was a nice little talk.’

“What was the girl going to do with the reds?’

“She was going to play the parlor desperado with
them, all same Boston Pete. As near as I could find
out, she wanted to get hands on the totem so she could
chase the Indians back on the reserve where they be-
long.. She told me she was sick of the whole lawless
business, and that she’d keep me from doing ‘any more
deviltry with the reds to help. That’s what she said,
but I know she was talking with the double tongue.”

Here was a fresh sidelight on the character of Lasca.
It came as a pleasant surprise to Buffalo Bill, no matter
whether Sangamon Charlie’s inferences were true or
false.

“T tought she vas a goot girl,’ spoke up the baron.
“Yah, dot’s der notion vat I hat. For vy dit she preak
avay, 1 vonder?”

“T asked her to marry: me, so that both of us could
boss the gang together,” went on Sangamon Charlie,
“put she said she’d rather be dead.”

“T admire her’ for that,” said Buffalo Bill.

“Well, she’ll get her wish, fast enough,” growled the
prisoner. “I’m just beginning to get the gang under
control. When we're better acquainted, they'll do any-
thing 1 tell ‘em,’

“The quicker you realize that you’ve seen your In-
dians for the last time, Sangamon,” returned the scout,
“the better it will be for you. Baron,’ and he turned
to his pard, “keep the prisoner well in hand. I’m going
to strike a light and look around for the totem. It may,

&

BILL STORIES. . 1g

be here, in spite of what Sangamon says. If any In-
dians come in on us, you know what to do with your
first bullet.”

“T shake oudt der fairst pullet at Sangamon Charlie,”
said the baron promptly.

With the light, Buffalo Bill searched clea but
fruitlessly. The totem was not in the stone cabin.

“It’s with the guard of five, like I said,” declared San- —
gamon Charlie, when the scout had finished and extin-
guished the light.

Possibly a minute the light had Keen burning, but it
was long enough for the baron to take note of the scout
in the white gown, hood, and mask. The baron shiv-
ered. It looked like a shroud.

“T'tt-have to go without the totem,” observed the scout
coolly.

“For vy cant 1 go, bard?) pleaded, the baron, [1
don’d vas oof so mooch aggount, und——”

“T tell you, baron,” cut in the scout, “that Soult have
to guard Sangamon. Your part of the work is far from
easy or safe. I'll tie a twisted handkerchief between his
teeth, and we'll tote him to a safer place, down the
cafion.”

_ Sangamon’s last word, while the gag was being placed ,
between his jaws, was one of defiance.

Then the pards lifted him and carried him clear of
the overhang and for fifty feet down the gully. Here,
close up against the cafion wall, the prisoner was
dropped.

“On guard, baron,” said the scout; “I’m off.”

“Shake handts fairst,’ requested the baron;
it’s for der lasdt time.”

The scout laughed.softly at his pard’s lugubrious
mood, struck hands with him cordially, then whirled, and
hurried to Sagamon’s horse.

A minute later the desperate enterprise was launched.

3

“meppy

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE FALSE PROPHET,

Buffalo Bill had weighed many details of his pros-
pective work in his mind. It was a venture that called
for clear thought, and its varied aspects made judgment
difficult. He was taking a leap in the dark, it is true,
but he was doing his utmost to gauge the chances for
and against success.

The most difficult phase of the question concerned the
place to which Lasca had been taken. Where she was,
there most likely would be found the main body of rene-
gades, Sangamon Charlie had declared this, in so many
words, and, while the scout was taking the prisoner’s
statements “with a grain of salt,” yet this one statement
‘seemed self-evident.

See ie Zs

 
 

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Sa pt Dh a a ran A RE TE Se SNA MED

Sa ee eee Ok Oe a eee

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" ERI nn ee aa ee ee
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THE BUFFALO

How was that place to be reached?

The scout sought to solve the difficulty by means of
Sangamon’s horse. Given its head, and urged with the
rowels, there was a chance that the animal would lay a
course for the rendezvous of the gang.

But, even if the horse would not do this, the scout felt
almost positive that the red renegades and their prisoner
would be found at, or near, the place where the dance
had occurred. ,

‘He figured, then, that he had two chances of getting
in among the renegades: first, the instinct of the horse
to return to the spot which it had recently left; and, sec-
ond, the likelihood that the Apaches were still on the
rim, of the cafion where he and Cayuse had seen them.

After mounting Sangamon’s cayuse, Buffalo Bill care-
fully arranged the flapping white skirts of the gown to
cover his legs to the knees.

Before getting into the gown he had profited by the
move he had seen Sangamon make, and had buckled his
revolver belt over his coat, pushing the holsters around
in front. He had discovered two slits in the breast of
the gown, through which either hand could be thrust in
reaching for weapons inside.

Thus prepared, and more eager than ever to do a
good stroke for Lasca, the scout started the horse up
the gully, leaving the reins lying loosely over the saddle
horn.

At first the horse moved from one side of the gully
to the other, in an aimless sort of way, heading ap-
parently nowhere, For perhaps half a mile these dis-
appointing manceuvres continued, carrying the scout far
beyond the place below the rim where the dance had
been in progress. Feeling that the horse was not to be
depended on, the scout was about to turn and push back
to the slope down which the Apaches had descended into
the cafion, when a form arose suddenly in front of him.

“Who comes?” gtunted the voice of an Indian.

The words were in Spanish, and the scout, disguising
his voice, answered in: the same language:

“The white prophet of the Apaches, Sangamon
Charlie, the fayored one with the totem.”

The Apache drew back, and the scout spurred on, The
redskin must have been an outpost, and Buffalo Bill con-
gratulated himself that he was close to the camp.

From this point onward the horse proceeded with
more certainty. He turned to the right, and began
climbing the steep slope of the wall.

Up and up the horse toiled, puffing and blowing, and
at last scrambled over the brink. Here the scout was
challenged by another warrior, but the same answer car-
tied him on.

A level overgrown with dusky greasewood brush lay
before him. In the distance among the clumps of bushes
he sighted a fire. The blaze became his objective point.

  

a cet a mr ee Epis A SG clea TERS

   

BILL STORIES. -

Twice more he was stopped and challenged, but each
time he was allgwed to proceed.

The camp of a surety was well guarded. Sangamon
Charley was not to be caught at a disadvantage if sen-
tries could guard against surprise.

As he pushed through the chaparral, the fire grew
brighter and brighter. Other Apaches saw him, but the
white robe and the sight of Sangamon’s horse was
enough to satisfy them.

The fire was built in a small open space. Beside the
fire sat Lasca, her small hands secured at her back with
thongs. Her feet were not bound, but, when Buffalo
Bill noted the girl’s surroundings, he wondéred that the
redskins had considered it necessary even to bind her
wrists. A circle of Apaches, three deep, all armed with
knives and lances, surrounded the girl and the fire,

The scout dismounted at the edge of the human cor-
don, gave a guttural order that the horse was to be left
as it was, and strode past the Apaches to the side of the
fire. There he dropped down, tailor fashion, as he had
seen Sangamon Charlie, two hours or more before. The
Indians watched him with glimmering, cruel eyes, but
held their peace.

The girl’s eyes were just as keen as those of the
Apaches, but they were defiant. rather than cruel.
Through the holes in the white mask Buffalo Bill studied
her,

“Well,” said Lasca scornfully, “I see you have got on
your toggery.”

Buffalo Bill feigned anger, When he answered the
girl, he spoke in the queer jargon he had heard Sanga-
mon use,

“You have acted the coyote’s part this day!’’ he cried.
“You have brought Pa-e-has-ka and Pa-e-has-ka’s com-
padres into the stamping grounds of the red brothers!
What would your father say to that, if he knew it?”

99
'

“Ves,” returned Lasca, “I haye brought Pa-e-has-ka
into the hills; and I brought him so he might capture
Sangamon Charlie and take him to the fort of the Ameri-
cano soldiers, where he could do no harm to the red
brothers. But I ran away from Pa-e-has-ka to come to
my father’s friends. I want them to listen to me, to the
daughter of their old leader. My words are good; they
are wise, and if the red brothers are wise they will
listen,”

For the most part, the Apaches’ preserved their im-
passive attitude. Nevertheless.the scout knew that they
were following the talk with sharp ears.

“You have the double tongue!” growled the scout.
“You talk much, but your talk is like the rattlesnake’s
trail, and crawls everywhere. Narbona has chosen me
to lead the Apaches. In two sleeps we go toward the
Rio Grande.”

“You told the red brothers that the skull dropped into
your hands from the sky,’ sneered the girl.

  

pe ospchfilinni Biden saith ss caiedemasitciey,

eee Rey IN een en ry pee
  

 

“That is true.”

“It is your talk that leaves a rattlesnake’s trail, San-
gamon Charlie. The totem came to me.
from me at the hotel in Solomonsville.”

A quiver of excitement ran through the lean, leathery
faces of the redskins.

“The red brothers have tried me with the knife and
the lance,” said the scout. “Let them say whether or
not I am the chosen of Narbona.”

A guttural assent ran through the Apache ranks.

“T suppose you will win this game,’ returned Lasca,
“and that you will lead the Apaches along a red trail.
It will be their ruin. The soldiers will march against
them’ and kill them like wolves in a trap.”

“What would you do if you were leader of the red
brothers?” sneered the scout. _

“IT would save them from the fate you are fixing up
for them,’ declared the girl passionately. “I am sick of
the lawlessness, If you had not stolen the skull, I would
now be the leader of the Apaches. Narbona wants the
red brothers to return to their reservation while there
is yet time. Narbona told me so. When you say some-
thing else, your talk is crooked.”

The scout lifted his voice.

“Bring me the totem!’ he called,

The order went round.-the circle.
dusky bushes,

You stole it

Then, from the
emerged five stalwart warriors, nude to

the waist, and each with his flannel head band and armed -

with knife and revolver.

One carried the hideous totem. The other four formed
a hollow. square in which the bearer of the totem
marched.

Grimly the guard of five sind to a place in front of
the scout, and there the skull was laid down .on the
sandy earth. The scout waved his hand, and the In-
dians retired to the ranks of their comrades. :

With his eyes lowered to the totem, the scout waited.
The bony shell began to shiver, and then to rock vio-
lently, Suddenly it overturned completely, rolling in
the scout’s direction.

Buffalo Bill, now close to ie totem, and watching “its
mysterious movements, was lost in puzzled speculation,
What was the cause of that jerky rolling of the grew-
some relic?

The skull, tapping against his knees, aroused him
from his reflections. With a start, he realized where he
was, and the character he was expected to play.

Picking up the skull, just as he had seen Sangamon
Charlie do, he held the bony jaws to his ear. If his face
could have been seen by the Apaches, at that moment,
they would have marveled at the light of understanding
that broke over it. As it was, however, the Apaches
saw only the eyes in the mask. The glitter of the eyes
told ‘them nothing, except that their new leader was
strong-hearted for the work before him.

THE: BUFFALO

   

  

BHL STORIES.

  

“Narbona says,’ spoke up the scout finally, “that
Lasca must die!’

Approval ran through the red ranks and found vent
in bent heads and low mutterings.

“T expected that,” said Lasca bitterly, ‘The daugh-
ter of the man who led the red brothers must die be-
cause a false prophet is afraid of her!”

“Narbona says,’ pursued the scout, “that Lasca must
die by the hand of Sangamon Charlie.”

“T expected that, tod,” said the girl. “It is such work
as I would expect of Sangamon Charlie.”

“Narbona says,’ continued the scout, “that Lasca’s
hands must be freed and Lasca placed in front of the
prophet.” He laid the skull beside him. ‘‘Let it be so,”
he finished.

Two Apaches went to the girl and roughly stripped
her wrists of the thong; then, still roughly, they dragged
her in front of the scout, and threw her at his feet.

Buffalo Bill got up quickly. Almost as quickly Lasca
also was on her feet. Then, with a shrill cry, and be-
fore any of the Apaches could interfere, she leaped at
the scout like a wildcat, and, in her fury, sought to do
him injury with her bare hands. .

He pushed her away, and tried to whisper, at the same
time, that he was there to save her. But, before he
could make himself understood, Lasca had torn the
white mask from hig face. The hood fell back from the
scout’s head—and he stood revealed.

In a flash every redskin had leaped erect, spear and
knife ready. The girl, her face a picture of horror and
surprise, recoiled.

“Buffalo Bill!” she gasped,
“Quick!” he whispered.
within reach, Or to his back, and ride to safety

“But you

The scout had no time to answer. The clamoring
redskins were closing in. Like lightning, he stooped,
and picked up the totem, and, like lightning, he turned
and bounded away, hoping to draw the redskins after
him and leave the girl free to effect her escape.

“Sangamon’s horse is there,

a

 

 

CHAPTER XIII.
A GAME OF LIFE AND DEATH,

Out of that talk with Lasca, taking place under such
tragic circumstances, the scout had proved that the
daughter of Boston Pete was actuated by high principles
in the work she had attempted to do,

Single-handed she had fought against the rufhanly
Sangamon Charlie for the leadership of the red men;
alone, with none to help her, she had matched her wits
against the guile of this desperado. And Lasca would
have won that contest but for the misunderstandings.

  

  
  

 
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ee

Sass ng Bd

aes pen tS heraterrapramevmesUiag ate rence TE a

ae

and the bold work of Sangamon Charlie in Solomons-
ville.

The scout wondered why Lasca, csGaae to accom-
plish a high purpose, had not come to him in friendly
wise and sought his aid; he wondered why she had
drawn the knife, at the time Jim, the clerk, had tried his
practical joke, and allowed the totem to roll out of the
bag; he’ wondered about many things concerning the
girl, but he was unable to fathom the motives back of
her queer actions.

Nevertheless, he was her firm friend. He had dared
much for her, and Lasca herself was the cause of his
present danger.

As he had hoped, the Apaches took after him.
Whether the girl was able to profit by that fact, he could
not determine at the time.

Through the bushes he ran, holding the totem oe his
left hand, and dragging a revolver from his belt through
the Slit in the white gown.

‘The flapping skirts of the gown hampered him, and
its color made him a target in the dark for the poisoned
spears. One of the lances pierced the gown at the waist,
and clung there, interfering dangerously with his race
for freedom.

Halting, he whirled and fired into the bushes behind ;
then, although the delay might mean capture, he paused
long enough to tear the gown from his shoulders. _

He was almost surrounded by his nimble foes when

he was freed of the disguise, but he felt amply repaid by
the sense of perfect freedom in the use of his limbs
which came to him,

Lifting the totem above his head, he shouted:

“Strike at the friend of Narbona if you dare!’

This had some effect. he very name of Narbona
acted like magic with these superstitious red men.

Taking advantage of the lull in hostilities, the scout
rushed on and on into the chaparral.

But the Apaches wanted to know what had become of
Sangamon Charlie. The name of Narbona was potent
as a spell, but why was Pa-e-has-ka wearing the clothes
of the ghost dance when they belonged to their new
leader?

Angered and vengeful, the Apaches rushed along on
the trail of the scout. Hopeless as the contest would be,
Buffalo Bil had about made up his mind to turn and
do what he could to stand off his swarming foes, when
the approach of a galloping horse struck on his ears.

’ At least one of his red enemies had found a horse,
the scout thought, and was bent on bringing the pursuit
to a quick determination.

Dropping to his knees behind a clump of ereasewood,

THE BUFFALO

the scout resolved to do what he could in his own de-.

fense. If his revolvers, or his wits, aided and abetted by

the totem, could not save him, then he would have to seli

his life as dearly as possible

fate De

hase

Bi STORIES.

The horse and rider showed like a dusky splotch in
the starlight. The rider, at least, was a fair target. If

the scout could pick off the rider and appropriate the

horse, then the flight might be resumed with some hope
of success.

Gathering fresh hope, the scout lifted his weapon, and
trained it on the swaying form of the horseman. Just
as he had secured a good “bead” and was about to pull
the trigger, the horseman cried out shrilly:

yoenor |”

It was Lasca—Lasca riding Sangamon Charlie’s horse,
and following to help him escape! The girl would never
know how close she had been to death at the scone
hands that night! _

‘Fere!” cried Buffalo Bill, springing to his feet.

With a cry of joy, the girl turned her horse and gal-
loped in the scout’s direction.

“Quick!” she cried; “jump up in front of me! The
Apaches ‘are getting their ponies, and they'll soon be

-upon us.”

He leaped to the horse’s back and, double-burdened,
the animal raced away.

Behind them came the patter of many hoofs, falli ing
soddenly in the soft sand.

“We can’t escape with the horse carrying two of us,”
muttered the girl. :

“We can—and we will!” Buffalo Bill answered.

“Give me the totem! I will drop from the horse and
take my chances!”

“You'll stay right where you are, Lasca!”’
scout authoritatively.

Something fell over the scout’s shoulders. He had
not seen the noose coming, but instinctively he knew
what it was the moment it began to tighten. :

There was no time to cast off the horsehair loop.
Throwing up his hand the scout caught the rope and
held to it, at the same time lessening the speed of the
horse.

Lasca likewise grabbed the-riata. The shock came and
nearly hurled the two of them from the horse’s back.
THe farther end of the rope gave way, under the three —
hands that gripped it, and its sinuous length fell writhing
to the ground. As the scout urged the horse to faster
gait with the rowels, the rope trailed after them, swishing
and lashing the bushes. _

said the

“Madre mia, but that was close!’ breathed the girl.
“Tf I had not been with you, sefior, you could have es-
caped that.”

“T escaped it, anyhow, Lasca, so what’s the use of
fretting?’ he flung back at her. ‘Coil it up and hang
onto it; we may need it.”

Lasca lifted the loop. over the scout’s bare head as they
plunged along, then drew it in hand over hand and
dextrously coiled it.

“IT know this country, sefior,

3)

said she, a few minutes

ow peta bait ate pre tr thor noth ths rien Hie ec ony ai

 
 

  

 

 

THE BUFFALO

later. ‘We can’t hope to run away from them, but we
must dodge. Sabe?”

“T sabe, all right enough; but where can we dodge?”

“Turn to the right, and I'll show you.”

They were nearly at the edge of the level plateau. To
the right of them the hills arose frowningly. The scout
turned the horse and headed for the sombre shadows of
the uplifts.

“Now to the left, sefior,” said the girl, when they were
almost at the foot of the chain of hills.

Obediently he guided the horse as she directed, and
they swept into a narrow pass, through it, and out into
a wide, bleak valley. :

“Cross to the hills on the other side,’ went on Lasca.

They gained the opposite range, climbed a low divide
and descended to a gaping void that broke sheer away
almost under the hoofs of the horse.

‘“What’s this?’ asked the scout, as they came to an
enforced halt.

‘“Tt’s the rim of Lost Burro Cafion, sefior,” replied
Lasca, “half way between the turn and the cabin under
the overhang. We may as well stop. The Apaches have
been left behind. See, sefior! the horse is about spent.”

This was true. Sangamon Charlie’s horse was stag-
gering with feet wide apart and blowing like a porpoise.

They dismounted.

“We've given the brute a hard run,’ observed the
scout. “I had to press him hard or we’d never have got.
away. Anyhow, pas I'd never have got away at all
ifeit hadn’t been for you.’

“You wouldn’t have had to get away, sefior, if it nec t
been for me. Carramba, how well you played your part!
I thought all the time it was Sangamon Charlie. Where
18 en :

“He’s a prisoner.
almost under the very place where we are standing, by
the way.”

The scout stepped to the brink and looked down into
the blackness of the defile.

I left him with my* Dutch pard—

eel ee if the baron would hear me a I called to

him?” he queried. ‘How far is it to the bottom of the
gulch at this place?”

“No more than forty feet, sefior, but the wall is straight
up and down. I wouldn’t call. There may be Apaches
below.”

The scout turned away from the edge of the cliff.

“Ts there any way near here that we could get down
he asked.

“No, sefior. The nearest place is where the Apaches
came up the bank to Sangamon Charlie’s camp.. Going
the other way we would have to travel clear to the
gully that leads into the corral.”

“We'll wait here for a while, then, and see what hap-
pens. It isn’t more than a couple of hours to daylight,

and I've got to get the baron out of there before morn-_

?”?

 

 

    

snr OEE

BILL) STORIES, -

ing. I was afraid,” he added, throwing himself down by
the panting horse, “that you wouldn’t.get clear of the
reds.”

“They all took ae you, sefior,” said Lasca. “I knew
you would need me, so I took after you myself. It was
very brave this that you did for me. And after I had
played a trick on, your pard, too, and got away from
him!” .

“Never mind that. I believe that you and I have been
misunderstanding each other right along, and this is a
good time for explanations. Why didn’t you tell me
the whole truth there at the hotel? Why. didn’t you
explain to me that you wanted to secure the leadership
of the Apaches in order to send them back to their res-
ervation, and save them from the red-handed schemes of
Sangamon Charlie?”

“Because, sefior,” the girl answered simply, “I knew
that you wouldn’t believe me—after what had happened
at Adobe Wells. I wanted to handle the redskins in
my own way, and if

 

The girl was interrupted by a commotion in the cafion.
Up out of the black gorge floated hoofbeats and yells,
coming from around the turn. Buffalo Bill again hurried
to the edge of the cliff, and stared downward.

eemmccmmeernwansanacn

X

CHAPIER XIV.

PARDO LN PERIL.

“Ts it a fight, sefior?” asked Lasca, stepping to the
scout’s side.

“A fight and a Aight, sefiorita,’” was the answer, “if I
can judge by the sound. Some of the Apaches who were
chasing us got down into the gulch and found some one
else to chase. I hope the baron won’t get into difficulties
with Sangamon Charlie; but he’s right in the danger
zone, and I don’t see how he can avoid it.”

“Where is the little Piute?”

“We left him in the gully that leads to the natural.

corral. He was taking care of my horse and the baron’s
while we went ahead on foot to do a little scouting.
“Ah!” the scout broke off suddenly. “Did you hear
thats r

“The yells of white men!” exclaimed the girl.
I heard it, sefior.”

The bedlam was drifting past the point occupied by

the. scout and the girl, and moving up the gulch. The

scout was disappointed because his eyes were of so
little use.

There came a lull in the yells. The break was filled
in by a familiar voice bellowing loudly:

“Inter ther hole under ther overhang, Hickok!
fool ther pizen varmints yit!”
Shots. blazed holes in the darkness, and the eal

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forward.

THE BUPRALO

clanged with the murderous music of flying lead. The

scout turned on the girl.

‘My pards!” he gasped.
to cover by the red renegades.
somehow !”’

What he intended to do he did not know, but he turned
away from the brink of the cliff as though he could not
remain neutral in that contest any longer. The girl
Calioht his arm. |.

“Wait!” said she. “There may be something we can
It would be foolish, sefior, to go down
into the gulch among the Indians. You know their tem-
per toward both of us, and we would be shot down.”

_ “What is there we can do from up here?’ demanded
“We can’t shoot, because we can’t see any-

39

“They're down there-+-chased
I’ve got to help them

the scout.
thing to shoot at but gun-flashes; besides ‘

“Don't shoot, sefior,’ interrupted the girl. “That
would show the Apaches that they have enemies on
the rim of the cafion, and so would send some of their
number up here after us.’

“We'll have to do something before daylight,” one
the scout helplessly.

“We will,” said Lasca. “Let me think.”
While she was busy with her thoughts, the scout
judged, from what he heard, that his pards had safely
reached the cabin under the overhang. They could easily
take their horses into the hang-out with them, he rea-
soned, and then by putting up the plank barricade in
the door, they would be in trim to withstand a pretty
strenuous ‘siege.

But what would the end be? A wild thought of hur-
rying to Fort Grant after a detachment of troopers
rushed through the scout’s mind. Before he could get
to Grant and back, however, several hours must pass,
and those hours might see the end of his brave com-
rades.

.He had no time to speculate over the strange turn of
events that had brought Nomad and Wild Bill into Lost
Burro Cafion at that critical time. For the present the
fact that they were there, and in difficulties, sufficed.

“T have a.plan, sefior,’ said Lasca, coming eagerly
“Good luck has made it possible to carry out
the plan—providing you have some sulphur matches.”

i

“T have,” answered the scout. ‘‘You’re not going to
start a fire, are you?’

“No, sefior, it would not be well for us to start a fire
up here on the rim of the cafion. That would be worse
than shooting down at the Apaches. Besides, what good
could a fire do your pards?”

“T don’t know,” said the scout impatiently, “but I was
trying to guess why you wanted matches.”

“Tt is for a trick I have seen my father do. It always
works with the Apaches, and I am sure it will work now.

Bring the totem and the coiled rope, sefior, and come

with me. ‘Ah, what a fine thing that rope wag thrown

BIEL) STORIES:

at us! It is at least thirty feet long. Bring the skull,
and the rope, and come, Buffalo Bill.”

Mystified by the girl’s instructions, the scout picked
up the totem and the coiled riata, and followed the girl
along the cafion’s rim,

Lasca did not stop until she had reached a point di-
rectly above the overhang.

“Stand back from the edge of the cliff, sefior,’ said
Lasca, “so the Apaches cannot by any possibility see
you, and then tie the skull firmly to the end of the riata.
Tie it,” she added, “so we oe lower it over the brink,
and it will swing right-side up.”

A glimmering of the an idea drifted snroten the
scout’s mind.

“Bravo!’? he murmured approvingly. “I reckon I can
guess what you are going to do, But will it work,
Lasca?” ; ion

wt has worked before, sefior,” returned the girl, “and
why not now?”

“Well see.”

After the scout had secured the ste to the end of
the riata, Lasca took a handful of heads from the scout’s
supply of sulphur matches, and rubbed the totem in-
dustriously. ~The effect was astounding. The skull
gleamed like a thing of fire, and was a spectacle to strike
terror to the stoutest heart. _

“Tt will do!” exclaimed the scout; * ‘on my soul, Lasca,
I think it’s going to turn the trick for my pards.”

“Wait till you see all of im senor; said. the girl. “You
understand, we will lower the skull by the rope until it és
just above the place where the overhang juts out. To
the Apaches, who will not be able to see the rope, it will
look. as though the skull is floating in the air. That. will
prove to them, will it not, that those in the stone cabin
are under the protection of Narbona?”

“T should think so!”

“Then let it down, but let it down slowly.”

All the while Buffalo Bill and Lasca were talking
and working, there was desultory firing in the cafion.
At the time the scout began lowering the totem over
the cliff, the shooting was particularly brisk; then, sud-
denly, the firing became all one-sided, being limited to
Nomad’ and Wild Bill, in their stone fort. Evidently the
Apaches had seen the fearsome skull, glowing in mid-
air, and were awe-struck and wondering.

The scout was kneeling on the brink, paying out the
trope. Lasca was kneeling beside him, watching as the
flaming totem went down. “«.

“That will be far enough, sefior,” said the girl. “Hold
it there, and listen! This is something I have done
before, and all the red brothers will recognize it.”

A wild, unearthly screech escaped the girl’s lips.

“Shake the ae a little,” she ee “while I
give another scream.’

The scout had entered fully into the spirit of the

 
  

 
 

s

affair. | Superstition was winning a bloodless battle for
the right, and saving “his pards! The very novelty of
the performance captivated the king of scouts.

Deftly he shook the totem while Lasca gave vent to
ariother of her nerve-racking screeches. |

“Narbona!” came a voice from below, a voice that
quivered and shook with apprehension.
“Narbona! Narbona!”

Voice after voice took up the word, until a perfect
roar of “Narbona!” echoed between the walls” of the
gulch.

“Again,” cried Lasca, “Narbona of the Nasajos talks
to his Apache children! Again, and for the last time,
Narbona appears to them to warn them and to counsel
them. Will the Apache children listen ?”’

Lasca was speaking in Spanish; and, in Spanish, a
great shout rent the blackness below.

“We listen !:. We listen!”

“The Apaches are doing wrong,” cried Lasca. ‘The
white men in the stone cabin are also my children. You
must not,slay each other., Do you understand? It is
forbidden by Narbona!’

“We understand! We understand!”

Wild Bill and Nomad could both sabe the talk the girl
was giving the Apaches, and Buffalo Bill laughed softly
at his pards’ wonder while this “‘spell’’ was being worked.

“Tt is my will,’ went on Lasca, “that the Apaches
hurry back to their reservation! Let them leave their
camp now without delay! From Grant the pony-soldiers
are coming, and they ride at speed. If the Apache chil-
dren would save themselves, they must fly like the wind
at once. Nevermore be persuaded to leave the reserva-
tion, my children! Sangamon Charlie has a bad heart,
and he was spreading a net of troubles for the Apaches.
His fate will come to him, but I would save my Apache
children. Never more will you see me! I go back to
the dark shades, and there, for all time, I ‘shall. stay.
Adios!” |

“Adios,” came a grief-stricken cry from below; “adios,
Narbona!’’

There came a sound of swift movements, then a roll
of drumming hoofs. Up the valley receded the hoof-
beats, growing fainter and fainter in the distance until
thev died to silence.

The Apaches were gone!

CHAPTER XV:
REUNITED AT LAST.

Buffalo Bill turned to the girl, after pulling up the rope
and the totem, and clasped her hand gratefully.

“Lasca,” said he, “we owe this victory to your clever-
ness.”

BILE

 

THE BUFFALO

I’m’a Piegan!

and I will meet you there.

 

cleverness,” she answered sadly. “It
was he who invented it; and the fact that the Indians
recognized an appearance of the totem wie which they
were familiar, senor, helped on our success.’ |

“Well; I won’t forget this, anyhow. Neither will my
pards after [——”

“Hello, up there!” broke in a voice from the bottom
of the cafion.

“Hello, Pard Hickok!’ shouted the. scout.

« A yell of surprise went up from both Wild Bill and
Nomad.
“Buffler!” whooped the old trapper; “Pard Buffer, er
What ye doin’ up thar, Buffler ?”
“Saving you from the Apaches.”
“How ther nation did ye do et? It wasn’t yo8 as done
thet screechin’, was et?”
iNo, that was Lascas

This was another surprise.

“Is ther gal up thar with ye?”

‘Ves?

“By gorry!” cried the voice of Wild Bill.
we get up there and grab hold of your hand?”

“You can’t,’ laughed the scout. “It will be best, giy-
how, for you fellows to ride back to the gully leading
into the corral. You know the place, Nick. Little Cayuse
is theres:

“Shore I know ther place, but

“To my father’s

a9

 

“The baron, with a prisoner, ought to be close up to

between the overhang and the bend.
unless the Apaches have run off with

the cafion wall,
He’s.there,;-pards,
him?

“Vich dey ditd’t!” suddenly broke in the baron’s voice.
“Aber I mighdt as vell haf peen shot as schkared to
death. Himmelblitzen, vere iss dot skull mit der fire all
ofer it?, Vere dit it go?” ,

“Never mind that now,
Sangamon Charlie with you?

“You bed my life! Vat you t’ink I dit mit dot tater.
huh? You say keep lm, und py shinks, dot’s vat I do.
I haf hat all my share oof drouples, und dis is vere der
luck has took some’ durns.”

Pe called the scout. ‘“‘Is

“Where were you while the Apaches were in the
cafion ?”

“Trying to push a hole in der cliff und ged oudt oof
sighdt! Dose Inchuns vas so pusy mit Vild Pill und
Nomat dot dey ditn’t see me, nod ad all.”

“Nomad and Wild Bill will help you get Sangamon
Charlie to the gully, baron,” finished the scout. “Lasca
Adios for now, pards!”

Elated with the way his night’s work had come out,
Buffalo Bill started for the horse. Lasca walked at his
side.

“Have I repaid you for the many things I eee done,
Buffalo Bill?” she asked. ‘‘When my father was free,

STORIES. oe 25

“How can |

 

      

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oetaeceeemneneees ee Sars

26 THE BUFFALO

I tried to help him. You remember how I fooled you
at Adobe Wells, and how I called the Indians there?’

“Of course I remember that, Lasca,’ returned the
scout, “but ‘

“That was not right, but, sefior, I believed in my
father. I felt it was my duty to help him. After he
was captured and taken away, I saw things differently.”

“Tm glad you did, Lasca. By this night’s work, you
have made yourself pretty solid with Buffalo Bill and
his pards. But let’s mount the horse and start for the
gully.”

“Just a moment, sefior. You understand why I forged
your name to that letter?’

CY pe2)

“What I had you say in that letter to the governor
was strictly true. I got the skull of Narbona to get
the best of Sangamon Charlie, and. to make the Indians
return to their reservation. I just gave you the credit
for the idea, that is all.”

“It was a good idea, and I’m glad you wrote the let-
ter; but, if you had come to.me, and told me what
you wanted, it wouldn’t have been necessary to forge my
namé. I’d have been glad to give you the letter.”

“No, sefior, you would have refused me, just as you
refused Sangamon Charlie. You would have said, since
the colonel at the fort sent the skull to the governor,
then get your letter from the colonel. You would not
have trusted me, sefior, and, until what you did at the
Apache camp, I would not have trusted you, either. But
now we are friends. Is it not so?”

ess

‘Then, as ‘I have lost my horse, may I have this one
of Sangamon .Charlie’s ?”

“Of course! But we'll talk all that over when we
get to the gully.”

“Tam not going to the gully.”

“What? Lasca, surely you will give my pards a
chance to thank you+—’ °

“T don’t want their thanks. You remember Gonzales,
my mother’s padre? He is not many miles from here,

and by sunrise I want to be with him.”

“But what will you do?” protested the scout. ‘Where
will you go, Lasca? Can’t I help you in some way?”

“TI have no need of help, sefior, gracias! You said
once,” and see laughed a little, “that 1 must leave the
country. That is what I and my mother’s padre shall
do. We will go to the other side of the Rio Grande.”

“Anyhow,” begged the scout, “ride with me to the
sully and let my pards and | take you to your grand-
father. We will be your escort, since you feel that
you must go at once, and ‘

“T need no escort, sefior, now that Sangamon Charlie
ig in your hands, and the Apaches are flying back to

BILL. STORIES,

their reservation. I will go away from here—even
though you will be obliged to walk to the gully.”

The scout gave up. The girl was determined, and
there was nothing more he could say.

“Buenos, then!” he assented. “But promise me this,
Lasca: If you are ever in difficulties, and need friends,
call on the scout and his pards!”

“Gracias!” she answered; “‘let it be so.”

In spite of the wearing labors of the night, she bounded
lightly into Sangamon’s saddle.

“What about this totem, Lasca?” asked the scout.

“It is of no further use to me, and the sight of it is
hateful. I leave it with you, sefior. Return it to the
governor, and when you give it to him tell him about
Lasca, and the last use she made of the totem. “As
for the skull’s secret”—she laughed a little—“that is very
simple. If you cannot guess it yourself, it will never
be solved.” ‘

“i can. guess it, laughed, the. scout. “There is one
thing you can tell me, if you will?”

“What is that?’

“When we met you at Adobe Wells you spoke noth-
ing but Spanish, and did not seem able to talk much
English. Now you use the English. as well as any-
body.” .

“That was because I thought it needful to hide my
knowledge. You see how well it served me, sefior?
Even you failed to recognize me when, in boy’s clothes,
I talked with you at the hotel. Adios!”

Without waiting further, Lasca whirled the horse, and
took her way over the divide along the same course she
and the scout had followed in gaining the cafion’s brink.

- At the crest of the ridge the girl halted and waved her

hand; the scout waved in return, and horse and rider
vanished.

Then the scout realized that the night had lifted.
Over the eastern peaks hung gray streamers, heralding
the coming day. ie

“This has been a night, and no mistake!” he mut-
tered, swinging the skull over his shoulder by the rope
to which it was still fastened. ° “Here, in Lost Burro
Cafion, a good many things haye happened’ since the
baron, Cayuse, Lasca and I rode into the gulch.’

He stepped to the cafion’s brink to take a last look be-
low. There, in the defile, the darkness still lingered, and
he could see little.

Without waiting longer, he strode off in the direction
of the gully. The going was rough, and he was all of
half an hour getting back to his pards.

They were impatiently waiting for him, all of them
—Cayuse no less than Nomad, Wild Bill and the baron.

“Ach, vat a habbiness to be reunited vonce again!”
jubilated the baron. “Ven you vent avay. mit yourseluf,

 
 

   

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eatery eer ae or ie
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x

Puffalo Pill, looking’ like some shpooks in dot vite dress
vat you took from Sangamon Charlie, I t’ought dot you
vould nefer redurn some more. I peen a pooty sad
Dutchman aboudt dot time, you bed you.” -

The scout had thrown himself down wearily at the
side of the gully.

“Who’s got some water and something to eat?’ he
asked. “I’m tired enough to sleep for a month, and
hungry enough to eat all the chuck in Solomonsville.”

“Thet’s us, pard,” grinned old Nomad. “Hickok an’
me toted a couple o’ bags o’ provender with us from
Solomonsville. Wait till I git ye my warbag.”

The trapper got the bag and the scout was soon re-

_ galing himself with jerked beef and sour-dough bread.

“What happened to you, Cayuse?” the scout.asked of
the little Piute, while he ate.

Cayuse grunted.

“Not anything, Pa-e-has-ka,” said he. “Me have heap
quiet time. Pa-e-has-ka say, watch cabaillos. All same,
Cayuse watch um. Ugh! Me hear um.guns up gulch,
no can leave caballos. No like um.”

The scout laughed. ©

“And how about you fellows?” he dated, turning
to Nomad and Wild Bill. -

“Same as per usual,’ answered Hickok, disconso-
lately. “Wego hunting trouble and leave a whole snag
of it behind us. When the trapper and I got back to
Solomonsville, you, and Cayuse, and the baron, and the
girl had been gone for about an hour. The greaser, Juan
Francisco, told us you had headed for the hang-out of
the reds in Lost Burro Cafion. Nick knew where: it
was, and we started. Nothing happened to us until we
chased into the cafion and got close to the bend; then
all sorts of surprises happened, and they came in a
bunch. There were reds in front of us, and reds behind;
everywhere we looked we saw Injuns—the night was full
of ‘em. But it was too dark tosdo anything but run.
So we dusted right up the gulch and got in under the
overhang; then, just as we thought we were going to
have a nice little fight, we heard all that spook talk,
and listened while the reds ducked up the gulch. That’s
all that came to Nick and me, this trip, Pard Cody.”

The baron laughed.

“T tought.you vould be sore mit yourselufs ven you
heardt vat habbened,” said he. ‘““Ven I vant someding to
habben py me, I vill request dot Vild Pill und Nomat
go avay und dry to shdir someding oop. Den, py shday-
ing righdt vere I am, I vill gadder in plendy oof oxcide-
ment. Yah, so helup me. But, Puffalo Pill, vere iss der
leedie girl, huh?’ e

“That's so,’ chimed in Wild Bill. “She was up on
the rim of the cafion with you, and I understood you
to say she was coming to the gully.”

“Give me a drink out of that canteen, Nick,’
scout, and [ll explain.’
{

said the

THE BUFFALO BIEL STORIES.

  

 

 
  
 

 

  
   

CHAPZER XVI-
THE TOTEM’S SECRET.

The scout’s explanation was a long one.. For the ben-
efit of Nomad and Wild Bill, he began at the beginning,
which was wrapped up in Sangamon Charlie’s call at the
hotel in the character of Juan Francisco; then he went
to the other Francisco, to the coming of Manuel Silva,
otherwise Lasca, the robbery of the skull, and all the
other things that had made the morning notable. | After
that dame the yarious things that had ae during
the long night in Lost Burro Cafion.

The scout gave Lasca credit for all she had done,
and for the high principles which underlay the trick of
the forged letter. Le

“Dot’s a mighdy fine girl, I tell you dose,’ asserted
the baron, when the scout had finished. “She play some
tricks mit me, aber dot don’d make no odds aboudt der
tifference. She iss a pooty nice girl, all der same.”

She is,” agreed Wild Bill, “but she’s plumb Mexi-
can. When,she does a thing, she takes the longest way
round. And her thinking is greaser, through and through.
She wouldn’t come to the gully because she hasn’t any
use for the scout’s pards.”’

“She wouldn’t have had any use for me if I hadn't
got into that*rig of Sangamon Charlie’s, and gone look-
ing for her among the reds,” said.the scout. “She knew
that she had misplayed her hand when she tore the mask
off my face, and I think she was so sorry for it that she
met me more than half way in making friends. A pecu-
liar girl, and no mistake; but she deserves a lot of credit
for what she was trying to do.”

“And this is the totem!” exclaimed Wild Bill, picking
up the lariat and swinging the skull over ha the
baren. |

The baron jumped and yelled.

“Keep it avay!” he begged.
to do mit der thing. Whoosh!
like anyding.”

“Waugh!” grunted } Nomad,
would get on anybody’s nerves.”

“Take off the rope, Hickok,” said the scout, “and

“T don’d vant nodding
It has got on my nerfs

“That bloomin’ thing

‘watch the totem.”

Wild Bill untied the rope and placed the skull on the
ground. As usual, it began to shake, then to rock vio-
lently, and then to roll. It started toward old Nomad,
and he gave a whoop and leaped to a safe distance. The
baron and Cayuse were already well beyond what they
conceived to be the danger zone.

“What ails ther pizen thing?”
trapper. '

“Dot’s too many for me,” said the baron.
iss der t’ing vas pad meticine.”

“Wohl agreed Cayuse, “heap bad medicine.
like um.’

demanded the old

“All I know

Me no

  

    
 

 

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

Wild Bill, folding his arms\and resting his chin in the
palm of one hand, ‘tegarded the totem with deep in-
terest.

“By gorry,” he muttered, at last, “but that’s a conun-
drum. It comes within a couple of making my skin
get up and walk all over me with cold feet.”

The scout enjoyed the situation tremendously.

“Do, you wonder at the effect it had on the superset:
tious Apaches?” he asked.

“Nary, I don’t,” returned Nomad, “but I am, shore
- wonderin’ at the effect et has on me. Let’s git rid 0’
ther thing. Et looks like ther whiskizoos had took
charge of et.”

“Muy malo,’ breathed little Cayuse, his eyes gleaming.
5. Oot TI look at dot’ tine long,” averred the baron, “|

vill go grazy. Don’d led it shtart tovards me! I shouldt
faint fits right on der shpot.”

_ “Ym free to say it’s getting on my nerves, too,’
mitted Wild Bill.

“Which shows,” said the scout, “how small a thing will
get some good, sensible people on the 1 run. 1’m surprised
at you, Wild Bill.”

“By gorry, you needn't be. What's the secret of it?”

“Hand it to me,” requested the scout, taking his knife
from its sheath, ‘‘and [ll show you.”

ad-

While Nomad, the baron, and Cayuse craned their
necks in awe, Buffalo Bill dug into one eye-socket with
the point of the knife. :

“All the openings of this skull, amigos,” said the scout,
“are filled with hard clay. Perhaps there are a few fis-
sures here and there, by which air can get into the in-
terior, or brain cavity, and of these fissures that arrow-
point surely makes one. Now, watch.”

Having dug the bit of hard clay out of one eye-socket,
the scout laid the totem on the ground. It began to
rock; and then, to the chagrin of those who had half
taken stock in.the skull’s supernatural powers, a horned
toad came into view, and gratefully jumped from its
bony prison to the outer air.

“Well, tell me about that!” gulped Wild Bill.

“Oh; I ort ter be kicked plumb back ter Solomons-
ville!’ snorted old Nomad.

“T hat a notion all der time dere vas somet’ing in der
totem,” put in the baron cheerfully.

“Ugh!” grunted little Cayuse, and went to a distance
and sat down all by himself.

“How did you find out the secret, Buffalo Bill?’ asked
Hickok.

“Why,”
little.

smiled the scout, “by using my head just a
Only people with empty skulls of their own would
imagine that skull was empty.”

“Rioht ye aire, pard. Sufferin’ cats, but thet thar toad

is grateful. How long d’ye reckon he’s been in thar ?”
“Why, since Lasca got the skull from the governor.

_ of events, lay off to one side.

BILD STORIBS.

She must have introduced the toad into the inside of the ©
totem. Probably her father showed,her some time ago
how the trick was done.”

“Did you know anything about it, Sangamon Charlie?’
asked Wild Bill, whirling on the prisoner.

‘Sangamon Charlie, very much cast down by the course
He was no longer wear-
ing the gag, but his hands and feet were securely bound.

“T hadn’t a notion how the trick was done,”
swered.
kind.”

“Tt’s a wonder the ’Pachies wouldn’t have got onto it.”

“Huh!” muttered Sangamon, “those reds couldn't get
onto anything. Boston Pete taught them that the skull
was big, medicine, and when they saw it move they
thought sure it was. To be honest with you, I had a

he an-
“Of course I knew there was a trick of some

- notion it was big medicine myself, and that it would

bring me luck.”
-“You.couldn’t be honest with nobody,”
old trapper.

“Maybe not.
Bill ??

“You're going to Solomonsville with us,” said the ,
scout. “We'll send word to the military that you’ve been
captured, and they will call and get you.”

“They can’t do a thing to me. You didn’t give me
time to do anything that would give them a chance.”

“Well, it’s up to them, anyhow. The governor wanted
you put where you couldn’t stir up the reds, and I sup-
pose that will be taken into consideration.”

“There'll be no stirring up that particular bunch of
reds after the work Lasca did last night,” declared San-
gamon Charlie dejectedly.

“Which is another long mark to Lasca’s credit,” said
Buffalo Bill. “Bring up the horses, pards, and we'll go
back to town and tell Uncle Gus what he’s done for us.’’

growled the

What’s to be done with me, Buffalo

THE END.

There is a ripping good yarn in store for you next
week—one that has a lot of novel features, some of them
the kind to make you laugh all over. The great scout
has one of the most thrilling experiences of his wonderful
career, along with that dusky marvel, old Uncle Gus.
For example, you are kept on the go from anxiety to
laughter as Cody and his chocolate-hued mascot dash
through the night. The story is titled, “Buffalo Bill’s
Golden Wonder; or, A. Hard Fight for Luck.’ Wild
Bill Hickok and old Nick Nomad do their share to keep
the yarn on the jump. You'd better not miss this story.
It’s one of the best that have come along in some time.
Out next week in No. 467.
8g-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 adwentures of Buffalo Bill,

(Col. W. F. Cody), who is known all over the world as the king
of scouts.

 

mots tony fiom time tr,
eienaaathenbdiadet lives dtseniatnidanacceca't Caeehiheanemnaah aenietiem cad, |

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, April 16, 1910,

 

 

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AN INDIAN’S GRATITUDE.

URING the summer of 1862, the civilized world was
astounded at the atrocious barbarities that were
perpetrated upon the settlers of Minnesota by armed
bands of infuriated savages. Every atrocity known

to the calendar of crime was enacted, with all its bloody
and heart-rending accoinpaniments, without regard to age,
sex, or condition. For many months the different ttibes
who lived inthe nefehborhood had been banded together
for the purpose of exterminating the white settlers, goaded
doubtless by the non-payment of their government claims,
and alatmed at the continual encroachment of the white
settlers upon their hunting grounds., With such quietness
and secrecy was the whole matter conducted that no sus-
picion of their intentions entered the minds of the settlers,
and the confidence which association implants in the human
breast remained undisturbed.

One night at that solemn hour when the parting and
the coming day meet in fond embrace, the pall of death
fell upon the village of The eyes that were closed
by the gentle hands of sleep were forever sealed by death,
never to open again upon the light of this world. The fond
mother, who slumbered with her babe pillowed tipon her
bosom, was inhumanly massacred, and her darling in life was
her cotipanion in death. Neither age, sex, nor infirmity was
a shield against the fury of the savage demons, and the
scalping knife and tomahawk glistened in the light of the
burning village. The: village was reduced to a shapeless
mass of smoldering ruins, with which were mingled the
charred remains of those who loved their village home.

Among those who escaped the uplifted hand of the re-
vengeful savages was old Joe Stack; but while his life
was spated him, yet he was taken prisoner, and marched
away amid the exultant and execrating shouts of the savy-
ages. |

Joseph Stack, or, as he was more familiarly known, “old
Joe,” was a man of about the age of fifty years, tall, stout,
and muscular, with iron-gray haif and a grizzly beard, and

 

 

THE BUFFALO

 

 

 

BILL STORIES.

possessing a countenance which stamped him as an honest
man. He had resided in the settlements for a quarter of
a century, long before the birth of the village above al-
luded to. A New Englander by birth, and possessing the
education and polished intellect characteristic of that por-
tion of the country, and a descendant of the Pilgrim fathers,
old Joe was ever a truthful, honest, and truly religious
man. He married in early life, but the happiness of his
blooming manhood was blasted by the withering hand of
death, and he soon consigned to their last resting place the
mortal remains of his beloved wife. Shortly after he re-
moved to the frontier settlements, and sought, by the dan-
gers and excitements of a frontier life, to obliterate from
memory the harrowing and afflicting scenes of his early life.
He was a resident of the village at the time the Indians
made their night attack, was there taken prisoner and firmly
secuted to prevent any possibility of escape; Surrounded by
a strong guard of Indian warriors, he was taken to the
nearest Indian village, where they arrived soon after midday.
As some time had now elapsed since their descent upon
the village, and the outrage had become known throughout
the surrounding country, it became necessary, as a matter
of prudence, that they should continue their flight uninter-
ruptedly until they reached the heart of their settlements,
wheré their increased numbers and superior knowledge of
the locality would prove of vast advantage to them in a
collision with the white settlers.
The Indians were all well mounted, and poor old Joe,
deprived of a horse, nearly overcome by fatigue, and his
mind neatly crazed from the recollection of the appalling
scenes of the previous night, pinioned so tightly, that the

ecitculation of the blood was greatly impeded, and in some

of his limbs entirely prevented, was compelled by his savage
attendants afd the frequent application of the lash, to keep
up with the band. To fail now would bring instant death
upon him, so summoning to his assistance those qualities
of patience, fortitude, and endurance, which had never de-
serted him through life, he renewed his efforts, and finally
reached the Indian’ village, where a halt was ordered, com-
pletely prostrated and unable to proceed farther. His captors
soon realized a sense of his situation, and the question of
his disposition. was paramount in their minds. To release
him now would beto place the settlers upon their track.
He was unable to travel farther, and to make him captive
would involve delay, and it was, therefore, determined that
the chiefs and the warriors should assemble in council and
decide upon his fate. A courier was accordingly dispatched
to the wigwains of the warriors, and the council was soon
assembled which was to decide upon the ultimate fate of
old Joe.

Old Joe sat in the centre of the group upon the hide of
a buffalo, which had been stretched upon the ground for
his accommodation, surrounded by the warriors of the vari-

ous tribes, their eyes glistening with demoniac fury, and

their faces bedaubed with the hideous war paint. Big
Thunder now arose to address the council, and the eyes
of the warriors present were steadfastly fixed upon him.
He was a chief of seventy years, and though he slightly
bent beneath the weight of time, he still possessed all the
laughtiness and dignity of a mighty warrior. His words,

j
}
}

 
   
 
     

i
30 THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

though few, were slowly and impressively delivered, and
were as follows:

“Warriors! we have assembled to talk together, and to
decide upon the fate of yonder paleface. Shall to-morrow’s
sun shine upon him, a free man returning to his people, or
shall to-night’s moon mingle its rays with his scalp, as it
hangs upon the pole of the wigwam. You shall decide. I
have spoken.”

When he resumed his seat a cry arose:

“To the stake with him!” “To the stake with him!”
“Death to the’ paleface |”

Ogeechee, a veteran warrior,
follows:

“Warriors! you cry death to the paleface. As the. moun-
tain echoes to the valley, so do I, Ogeechee, cry death to
the paleface. Warriors! listen to my words, and if they
fall upon you like an April shower, changing the cold and
barren winter of vengeance into the genial spring of for-
giveness, then shall Ogeechee’s heart rejoice. If they fall
upon you like hail, making winter more wintry, let them
not chill your hearts against our captive. Warriors, when
the prairies began to soften before the smile of spring, |
set out upon a hunting expedition. The melting snows
had swollen the mountain torrents and deluged the valleys.
My route led me across a foaming torrent which dashed
along: with the speed of the untamed steed. In crossing my
foot slipped, and I was soon struggling with the flying wa-
ters. Warriors, my scars attest my bravery, and I have
always beaten my enemy. I was conquered by the mad-
dened waters. I remembered nothing more until I awoke
from my, sleep in the land of the Great Spirit, and found
leaning over me the form of old Joe, our prisoner. Bute
for him, Ogeechee would have gone to the land of the
Great Spirit, and to the happy hunting grounds. Ogeechee
is here—old Joe is here. My life was his—his life is mine.
Shall it be said Ogeechee was ungrateful? Never! War-
riors, I claim the life.of the captive.”

_ When Ogeechee resumed his seat amid a painful silence,
for his words had touched the Indian heart, perceiving
which Panther, an inveterate enemy of the white face,
arose, and in words of fervid eloquence addressed the
~ council:

“Warriors, the words of Ogeechee were like the breath
of summer! Mine shall be like the blasts of winter! The
words of Ogeechee fell’ upon your ears as gently as the
falling leaf upon the softened earth. Mine shall be like
arrows, to pierce your hearts. Warriors, look around you.
But a few moons back we roamed through our hunting
grounds undisturbed. Now our Great Father has sent his
palefaces here, and we are driven on and on, like cattle
before the lash of their master, until our hunting grounds
are gone, and the bones of our dead warriors bleach be-
neath the sun of heaven! Our squaws, rent with the
pangs of hunger, ask us for food. Food! Where is our
food now? When the palefaces took our lands, they took
our food upon those lands, and our squaws must die. The
orb of day, when it rises above the treetops, gives promise
of a beautiful day; but ere long, clouds and darkness may
obscure its brightness. The golden promises of pay, which
our Great Father gave us for the lands the palefaces had

then arose and spoke as

-hand that spared him?

_ stolen, have been overcast by the clouds of infidelity and

neglect, and the raindrops of want shower upon us. ..War-
riors, we have unburied the tomahawk, the scalping knife
glistens by your side, and the war paint is upon your faces.
Shall you wash it off? Yes; but it shall be in the blood
of the palefaces. Your scalping knives shall be sheathed,
but it shall be in the hearts of your foes. The tomahawk
shall be buried when the last paleface shall have gone ‘be-
yond the limits of our hunting grounds, never to return
again. Shall the paleface live, and, like a snake, poison the
No—let the paleface die!”

Panther resumed his seat amid-intense excitement, and
an attempt was made by the young men to run off old

Joe and summarily dispose of him; but the keen eyes of.

the old warriors discovered the movement, and it was frus-
trated. It was decided by the council that-old Joe should be
burned at the stake within one hour from that time, as
any further delay might endanger the safety of the band.

Joe received the news of his fate with an air of indiffer-
ence and nonchalance that charmed the warriors, for no
race of men so highly prize courage, and so truly despise
cowardice, as your Indian brave.

He was firmly secured to a tree by thongs of buffalo
hide, and bundles of wood, which to him were the. fagots
of death, were piled around him. Everything was soon in
readiness, the men had retired to their wigwams to prepare

for the coming carnival of death, leaving a stout Indian

to guard the captive, and it only required the presence of
the chiefs as the signal to carry the execution into effect.
Ogeechee knew the unappeasing enmity of his com-
panions against the white population, and though despairing
of having any effect upon their minds, he determined to
address them on behalf of old Joe, and by a recital of the
obligation he was under to him, attempt to avert the doom

which threatened him. His failure weighed heavily upon -

his spirits, but otherwise he betrayed no emotion or ex-
hibited any symptom of discontent, which would lead his
associates to infer that he was dissatisfied at the result of
the conference. He preserved that cold, stolid indifference
which was a personal characteristic of him.

Shortly after the talk at the council had ended, and the
men of the tribe had gone to their wigwams to prepare for
the coming scene, Ogeechee hurried to the spot where old
Joe was secured, strictly guarded by the warrior, who stood
but a few paces to the rear, tomahawk in hand, ready to
pounce upon the prisoner at the slightest manifestation of a
desire to escape. Approaching the sentinel, he spoke as
follows:

“Malito, the war paint upon thy face is faded and marred. -

Go to thy wigwam, and return here with thy cheeks decked
in colors for the warpath. I shall euard the captive, and
here I shall await thy return.”

Malito was only too anxious to avail himself of the op-
portunity, and hastened away. When he had departed,
Ogeechee cut the thongs which secured the captive.

“Old Joe of the paleface settlement,” said he, “your road
lies to the south, mine to the north. Fly like the cae
Ogeechee is not: ungrateful.”

Old Joe grasped the hand of Ogeechee, and then fled into
the woods. His limbs, stiff and paralyzed, the effects of

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the manner in which he was secured, necessarily retarded his
flight; but he perseveringly pressed onward toward the goal
of life and liberty with all speed possib@, For a time for-
tune seemed to smile upon his efforts, and hope beat high
within his breast, but escape from bondage was not to be
purchased without a greater sacrifice. The noise and tumult
which arose from the direction of the Indian village in-
formed him that his flight had already been discovered and
the pursuit commenced. This seemed to discourage him,
but nevertheless he continued his flight, pressing onward
with rapidity, keeping well within the shelter of the woods,
and taking advantage of all the numerous streams that
watered the country to conceal the vestiges of his trail. At
present the result depended upon the fleetness of the pur-
suers and the pursued, and old Joe, with his frontier experi-
ence, his frame hardened by the toils which had often beset
his path, and inured to the hardships of the backwoodsman,
was no idle game for the bloodhounds who were on his
track. Before him, and dividing the woods where he then
was from those beyond, was situated a level prairie of about
one mile in width, and this old Joe was compelled to cross.
He dreaded the result of his flight across this open land,
but to hesitate would be madness, and he boldly started
forward at an increased pace. .Scarcely had he gone one-
half the distance when he discovered the form of Panther,
mounted upon his horse, and flying toward the distant wood-
land, so as to surround him and prevent him from securing
the cover of the woods.

Now the struggle became intense; but the advantage was
with Joe, as Panther had to travel over four times the
distance to circumvent him. Panther had not forgotten his
rifle, and old Joe knew well the fame of the Indian war-
rior, whose unerring aim was a theme of universal com-
ment throughout the settlements. He knew also that once
within the range of that deadly weapon his life: was value-
less, and hence he watched with intense anxiety the gradual
but sure approach of his savage pursuer. From the com-
bined efforts of his revengeful spirit and the excitement of
the pursuit, the eyes of Panther glowed like living coals of
fire. To him the recapture of old Joe would be-an exploit
which would be heralded with rejoicing by his people. They
would gather around him, the chiefs would thank. him, and
the people would shout his name. Ii they asked for old
Joe, he would point'to the dripping scalp upon his belt,

and then the heavens would be rent with their shouts again.

He urged on his flying steed to renewed efforts, until he
had arrived within range of his flying enemy, and, raising
his rifle to his shoulder, he drew the trigger, but the hard
click of the hammer upon the nipple told that it was un-
capped. Infuriated, he threw it from him and, drawing
his tomahawk, with a yell continued the pursuit; but, blinded
with passion, he did not perceive a sudden rise in the
prairie, and his horse, coming in contact therewith, stum-
bled, and threw his rider with fearful force over his head.
His neck was dislocated by the fall, causing immediate
death, and a mangled mass of human clay only remained
of the once brave and haughty warrior.

Old Joe soon reached the cover of the woods, and after
many days of weary journeying he at length reached the
settlements in safety, greatly overcome by fatigue, and much
to the surprise and eratification of the settlers, who thought
he had suffered the fate that had been meted out to the
unhappy inhabitants of the village of

Ogeechee, after old Joe had fled, derermined not to sur-
vive his treachery to his people, plunged his knife into his
manly bosom, and the heart of Ogeechee soon ceased to
beat forever. In this position he was discovered by the
watriors, who attributed his death to the cunning of old
Joe, and. he was buried with all. the pomp and. circum-

 

. stance attending the funeral rites of an Indian brave.

cael Neiman teach thneTh ica Do: All ROR ERASER CANE RAT REN A AN MB

Leg TS OE LTT SORA et eee iE ee

THe BUFFALO BILL STORIES,

CLEOPATRA’S PEARL.
Readers will easily call to mind the story which is told
of Cleopatra, the ancient queen of Egypt, to illustrate her
luxurious habits of living, that she dissolved in her wine |

a precious pearl. No one seems yet to have questioned
what must have been the effect upon the drink, but a well-
known writer recently questioned quite pointedly the possi-
bility of such solution:

“We are very sheep in our gregariousness of error. When
one bold or stupid mutton takes’a leap, all leap after him.
It is rare to find men doubting facts, still rarer to find
them doubting whether the facts be correctly coordinated.
Our books are crowded with unexamined statements, which
we never think of examining.

“Do we not all believe that the magnificent Cleopatra,
regardless of expense, dissolved in her wine cup a pearl of
creat price, as if it had been a lump of sugar? ‘Is not the
“fact’ familiar to every one? Yet, if you test it, you will
find the fact to be that pearls are not soluble in wine. The
most powerful vinegar attacks them but very slowly, and
never entirely dissolves them, for the organic matter re-

mains behind, in the shape of a spongy mass larger than |

the original pearl.”

ONE EXCEPTION.
It used to be told of General Logan, who was a-member

of Congress at the breaking out of the Civil War, that.
when he saw there was really going to be a fight he seized ©

a musket, slipped out of Washington, and walked all the
way to Bull Run, where he arrived just in time to have a
hand in the fray.

He wore a dress coat, but he stood his ground as long.

as any one. The rout was complete, and the next morning,
a good deal out of breath, he was back at the capital, telling
some of his fellow Congressmen what he had seen.

“Who gave you this account of the fight?” asked a mem-
ber from Northern New York, as he joined the. group.

“Why, I was there myself,” said Logan.

The. New Yorker was mystified.
not heard the news.

‘Vou were there?’ he exclaimed,
ning?” et

“No,” said Logan, “the cars ain't running, but every
other thing in the State of Virginia is, as near as I could
make out.”

THE APPRECIATIVE SUBSCRIBER.

This letter, which was received by a Western editor, ac

cording to a writer in the Detroit Tribune, is an example
of that spirit of getting something for nothing’ which ami-
mates Many persons;

“Please send me a few copies of the paper which had the .
obituary and verses about the death of my child a’week or.

so ago. Also publish the enclosed clipping about my niece’s
marriage.
columns, if it don’t cost anything, that I have a ‘couple of
bull calves to sell, Send me a couple copies of the paper
this week. As my subscription is out, please stop my

paper. Times are too hard to waste money ona news-
paper.”

FOR HARD TIMES.

Mrs. Hocan—And why isn’t the old mon a-workin’ now?

Mrs, Grocan—Workin! It’s jan inventor’ he is. He
has got up a-road schraper that does the work of foive min.

Mrs. Hocan—An’ how minny min do it take to run it?

Mrs. Grocan—Six. It will be a great thing for - givin’
imployment to. ‘the laboutin. man.

“Are the cars run-

And I wish you would mention in your local -

Apparently he had

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“DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY,

ere

 

 

 

The most original stories of Wesfern adventure.
Buffalo Bill. High art colored covers.

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457—Buffalo Bill Repaid; or, Old Moonlight’s Mystery.

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BUFFALO BILL STOR

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Price, 5 cents.

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373—The Airship Destroyer; or, Gordon Keith’s Greatest Mys-
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The Mystery of Giant

 

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720-—Frank Merriwell’s Quest; or, A Hard-won Victory.

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722——Brank Metriwell’s Assistance; or, The Land of Too Much
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The Mystery of

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For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price,
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ere er eee hee er reese eer erereeeseees

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Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to

know all there is to know about him.

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES.
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We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print.

243—Butftfalo
244—Buffalo
245—Buffalo
247—Buffalo
250—Buffalo
251—Buffalo
252—Buftfalo
253—Buffalo
254—-Buffalo
256—Buffalo
258—Buffalo
261—Buffalo
263—Buffalo
264—Buffalo
265—Buftfalo
266—Buffalo
267—Buftfalo
ee.
Kin

272—-Buffalo
273—Buffalo
274—-Buftalo
275—Buffalo
276—Buftalo
278—Buffalo
280—Buffalo
283—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
287—Butffalo
| 288—Buffalo

289—Buffalo
290—Buffalo
292—Buffalo
293—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
303—Buffalo
304—Buffalo
3805—Buffalo
306—Buftalo
307—Buffalo
308—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
310—Buffalo
311—Buffalo
312—Buffalo
314—Buffalo
315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
318—Buffalo
319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
322—Buffalo
324—Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329—Buffalo
330—Buffalo
331—Buffalo
332—Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buffalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—-Buffalo
339—Buffalo
340—Buffalo

Bill on Special Service......
Bill on a Treasure Hunt..

Billis  Vost® Qwanry 2s. fe 5D)

Bill’s Stockade eicee Ric ieUshacc ene
Bill on a Long Hunt. aes
Bill’s Wyoming Trail.

Bill and the Redskin Wizard..

Bill’s Bold Challenge........ 5

Bill’s Shawnee Stampede...
Bill on a Desert Trail.......
Bill in Tight Saree. she a pews
Bill’s Treasure Train.

Bill’s Border Beagles. 5
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

SRills: Dusky "Trailers .

Bill’s Diamond Mine.....
Bill and the Pawnee Serpent..
Bill’s’ Scarlet Hand

Bill Running the Gantlet....
Bill’s Daring Plunge........
Bill's Ghost Raid ce es ee
Bill Ups a Stumpriwac seers
Bill’s Master-stroke........
Bill and the Brazos Terror..
Bill's; Dance of Death. :... <.
Bill and the Creeping Terror..
Bill and the Brand of Cain..
Bill’s Medicine-lodge.. Ae
Billvin Rerileig ec eee peace
Bill’s: Black ‘Hagles.. 3. 2.5 3%.
Bill’s Desperate Dozen.

Bill and the White Specter. .
Bill’s Death Defiance.....
Bill and the Barge Bandits.
Bill, the Desert Hotspur.
Bill’s Wild Range Riders... aes

Bill’s Whirlwind Chase...... 5

Bill’s Red Retribution......
Bill Haunted

Bills Wisht: forcwifes. ssc 2.
Bill’s Death Jump

Bill in the Jaws of Death .

Bill’s Aztec Runners......... 5

Bill’s Dance with Death.....
Bills Wiery (Wyvern... 38
Bills; Mazeppa: “Ride. = 3. 337.0:
Bill's Gypsy “Bands 20330...
Biles: Maverick. 6 6c Mees
Bills: (Gold. Hunters. 25.053)...
Bill in Old Mexico.

Bill’s Message from the “Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master.
Bill’s Flying Wonder.....
Bill’s Hidden Gold..........
Billsse@Outlawe nails ic. 665, 32
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and the Mad Marauder..
Billts, see* Barricade. 3c). 4 3.
Bill and the Robber Elk....
Bills Ghost Dance... 3... 2.3...
Bill’s Peace-pipe be aneears
Bill’’s Red Nemesis..........
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bills /Pay- Streak... 3. 3: Ss

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Bill on Detached Duty......
Bills Army. Mystery... ... 2...
Bill’s Surprise Party...
BillsiGreat Ride a... sees:
Bills awWavers rates ies co ae
Bills: Ordeal of Mires...
Bill’s Casket of Pearls...
Bisa Skye Pilots cesses oe
Bills: Potem i: 0

Bill’s Flat-boat Drift. .

Bi CON DOCK yee is ae,
Bill and the Bronco Buster...
Bill’’s Great Round-up.......
Bill's}: Pled Seren as sos es ae
Bills" Cowboy Rand... 33s cs.
Bill and the Emigrants..

Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s Four-footed Pards......
BNR SesProteeei a cei tie aes
Billis= Pick-up soos. ses eek
Billish Questia sarin sh oeeres
Bill’s Waif of the Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons...
Bills. Assistance aes... aceite s
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail..
Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
Bills Strong, Arm. sso. ok
Bill's: Girl: Pardes et wo ae
Bill’s Iron Bracelets......
Bills Ranch Riders: 2 2.25. .:
Bill's Jade vAmuletiv. 33:3. 8°24
Bills: Magic Mariate. 62055. sc
Bill’s ‘‘Paper-Talk’’.... er
Bills: Bridge of Wire... .
Bill’s Bowie

Bill’s Pay-streak....
Bill’s Mine... weieleerorevele cas
Bills | Clean-up eis se scenes as
Bill’s Ruse
Bill Overboard
Bill’s Ring.. Rint Moma oes
Bill’s Big Contract .. sheer slesoworerene
Bill and Calamity Jane......
Bills Kid sParde cr) sites esters
Bill’s Desperate Plight.......
Bill’s Fearless Stand.. es
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s

Guidine Hand’: 22s 3%
Queer Quest..........
Prize ‘‘Getaway”’
Hurricane Hustle......
Stan elaye seer we says
RBs gon cece statis sicey Sowers
Billsi Trackers s.5. cosce ss eo ;
Bills DuteheeP ards. cick.
Bill: and the Brayo:..*.)23...6
Bill and the Quaker...

Bill’s Package of Death.
Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
Bill’s Private War......
Bill and the Trouble Hunter...
Bill and the Rope Wizard.
IBIS ee HNC Starc ce cavers scccsreicnene

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mosa.

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Bill Among the Cheyennes..
Bill Besieged. cio. ecco
Bill and the Red Hand.......
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift.
Bill and the Specter...

Bill and the Red Feathers.
Bill’s King Stroke.

Bill, the Desert Cyclone..
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.....
Bill and the Man-wolf.....
Bill and His Winged Pard...
Bill at Babylon Bar.. 3
Bills? ones "Arm sie ee eee
Bill and Old Weasel Top....
Bills Steel Arm = Pard..% 5...
Bills Aztec Guide® ...8. os 66%
Bill and Little Firefly......
Bill. in: they Aztec City... 53...
Bills Balloon Escape......
Bill and the QGuerrillas......
Bill’s Border War etn
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up ......
Bill and the Gamecock oie
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
Bill’s Whirlwind Finish..
Bill’s Santa Fe Secret......
Bill and the Taos. Terror..
Bill’s Bracelet of Gold....
Bill and the Border Baron..
Bill at Salt River Ranch...
Bill’s Panhandle Man-hunt.
Bill at Blossom Range.....
Bill and Juniper Joe........
Bilese Mingle SCOOpD.. ss5.....s7-
Bill ‘at; ‘Clearwater... 63.5 3. 03
Bill’s Winning Hand........
Bill's) Cinch Claim... .
Bill’s Comrades.... RR oe
Bill in the Bad ‘Lands. Esser ce
Bill and the Boy Bugler..
Bill and the Heathen Chinee.
Bill and the Chink War......
Bill’s Chinese Chase........
Bill’s Secret Message.......

OU OV OF OV OT OF OF OF OF OV OV OF O1 OL En CLOT OL OL OT OV OL OT OO

These stories have been read exclusively in this

In no manner can you became so thoroughly acquainted with

OV OF OT OL OV OT OT O1 OH

OV OF OF OF OF OF Eg OT OT OF OF

Bill and the Horde of Her- 5

Bill’s Lonesome Trail......
Bus: sQuamnyeccicastcige es costs tierere
Bill in Deadwood.

Bill’s First Aid. Bae
Bill and Old Moonlight. Wiaietenas
Bill Repaid sess
Bill’s Throwback. eee
Bill’s “Sight Unseen” ..

Bills New Pard. 4
Bill’s ‘‘Winged Victory”.
Bill’s Pieces-of-Hight.

Bill and the Hight Vaqueros.
Bill’s Unlucky Siesta........
Bill’s Apache Clue. 5
Bill and the Apache “Totem.
Bill’s Golden Wonder........
Bill’s Fiesta Night... %

5

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