WEEKLY PUBLICATION

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

No. 462 NEW YORK, MARCH 19, 1910. Price, Five Cents

 

 

 

aes)
©
®
©
N
1
aS

 

 

(PB

FOX The aurbon.o= |
UFFALOG/bh\

 

 

Buffalo Bill crept stealthily toward the rude weapon, but at the very moment his outstretched hand
was about to clutch the handle, the wild man turned and caught sight of him.

 
 

 

 

  

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

yt x ; 7
cS : =
: : ¥
»
:
Sa at ae
« Babe . -
;
tee
j m
ee Se eae ee =
%

 

3

 

 

 

 

de

  

 

 

 
 

 

)

  

 

DEVOTED 10 BORDER LIFE

 

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

 

No. 462,

_NEW YORK, March 109, 1910.

Price Five Cents,

Buffalo Bill’s “Pieces-of-eight”

OR,

THE OLD TURQUOISE MINE MYSTERY.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER oo

THE SPELL OF THE FIGURE EIGHT,

From the very moment they reached Phoenix, Afri-
zona, Buffalo Bill and his pards were caught in’a ver-
itable tangle of incidents involving the ficure eight.

As the Ge pards rode into the town from Camelback
Mountain they were joined by three cowboys from the
Cave Creek district. Thus the number of horsemen in
the party numbered eight. -

Once across Salt Rives and in the town,-the scout and

. his pards and the cowboys separated, going to different

corrals to leave their mounts. The pards had been told,
in ‘Prescott, that the best Phoenix corral was neat the
corner of Washington Street and First Avenue. As
they rode into the enclosure under an arched gateway,
the scout read in rude letters on the arch, “Ranch Fight
Grral?

The baron afterward averred that there were only
eight bales of hay in the corral) eight horses in the stalls
when the five brought by the ‘pards were counted, and
eight breaks in the Cetra fence. But the baron was al-
ways more or less hazy in his computations, and the
scout pointed out that there was one bale of hay less
after he and his compadres had broken into the fodder
for their live stock, and that as the baron’s mount was
a mule the combination. of eight, so far as the horses

~ were concerned, was knocked into a cocked hat.

The proprietor of the corral was a Mexican, and when

he gravely asserted that his name was aire Cem

tagon, the scout cleared his throat and the Laramie man

Ab bed his chin and looked wise.

“Hm!” said Will Bill. “Octagon means eight-sided,

don't it, Pard Cody?”
“T reckon it does,” answered Buffalo Bill;

forgotten what I lene at school.”

er tah were eight of us when we rode into town, we
drop in on the Ranch ae Corral, and we meet up with
Salyadore Eight- sides, who bosses the hang out, TA?
said. the Laramie man, once more, “pulling off his hat
and running his fingers through his hair.

Old Nomad had a vein of superstition in him, and
Little Cayuse, the Piute, of course claimed belief in the
supernatural as a birthright. They were both looking
startled. The baron, ieoce brain was heavy and oe
to move, was revolving Wild Bill’s remarks in his mind.

lape make tracks for the hotel,’ laughed the scout,
“or well miss the last call for breakfast. Thats ats
‘ate’ I don’t want to leave out of the combination.”

On the way down Washington Street to the hotel,
the baron got the kinks out My his mental tangle and
made up his mind as to what Wild Bill had been ‘driving
at; then he spoke about the eight bales of hay, the eight
horses, and the eight breaks in the corral fence. Fie
scout punctured the hay and the horse notion, but he
had not counted the holes in the fence, so he was obliged
to take the baron’s word for it.

“Tl bet ther hotel is Number Eight, Washingtsn
Street,” hazarded Nomad.

eel haven’ t

But it was not. The building had no number. The
scout signed the register for himself and his pards.
Ca. rooms, each with two beds, * said the scout, “anc

I'd like to have you put a cot in the room I occupy fo:
my little Piute pard,”

 
PP SA SO o-Ps

 

CIT Mt 15, gs Ae eee A ST AR RE eR tee YR ee TE TTR, ae gy

bo

CHE BUPPALY)

“We can fix you out all right,’ returned the clerk.
“T'll give you room eight, Buffalo Bill :

 

Old Nomad dropped half across the counter and stared |

at the clerk as though hypnotized. The clerk, pen in
hand, lost his tongue while he peered at the trapper.
Durin& the silence, the bell from the courthouse plaza,
across the stteet, began booming the hour.

It boomed eight times. The baron drew a husky
breath.

‘Dere it vas!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
py shiminy grickets! Now vat?’

“Ts—is there somethin’ wrong?” faltered the clerk.

“Not a thing,” answered the scout vigorously. Nick,
you'd better go out and put your head under the pump.
When you get through, put the baron’s head under it.
Cold water is a fine thing for brain fog. Room eight is
for me, eh?” he went on, to the clerk: “What's the
other room?’

“Sixteen, right across the hall,” said the clerk.

“Dot’s you und me, Nomat,’ sputtered the baron.
“Dwice eight iss sixdeen alretty. Ve ged it dwice as
vorse as Puffalo Pill und Vild Pill.” Q

‘Whiskizoos,” growled the trapper. “Come on out to
the pump, baron. This is ther eighth day o’ August,
accordin’ ter what’s down on ther top o’ thet register
pace.”

“Der eighth day oof der mont’,” palpitated the baron,
moving across the room after the trapper.

“An’ August is ther eighth month of ther year. I
don’t reckon we ever butted inter sich er pizen bunch 0’
eights.”

Little Cayuse, very sombre and very thoughttul,
trailed after the trapper and the baron. The scout and
the Laramie man stepped into the wash room, pulled off
their coats and hats, and began getting the alkali off
their faces and out of their hair.

“It’s queer, by gorry if it ain't,’ muttered Wild Bill,
as he tubbed a red glow into his weather-beaten phiz
with a huck towel.

“Fust a happenchance; pard,” averred the scout. “One
of those things that’s always liable to happen and which
can’t be explained. We'll be looking for eights, from
now on, and when a person looks for a number like
that he'll see it.” alee

“And the combination don’t mean anything?’

“Not a thing.”

There was a doubtful look on the Laramie man’s face
as he got into his coat. A few moments later the two
stepped out into the office, joined Nomad, the baron, and
Cayuse, and the party went into the dining room.

There were three men eating a late breakfast in the
big room when they sat down at table. The baron held
up eight fingers and said something in German. One
of the three strangers—a man with-an Alkali Ike mus-
tache and a bad face—sprang up. bei,

“Did ye do that ter me?” he whooped, in a voice that
made the dishes rattle.

“Meppy I dit, I don’d know,” answered,the baron com-
posedly.

“No feller that walks kin stick his fingers in my face,”
snorted the bad man.

The baron, who disliked to be spoken to in that man-
ner, leaned across the table and cuffed the man’s ears
with both hands. .

“Vait till 1 ged droo mit ter meal,” said he cheerfully,

“Eight o’glock,

  

Be ee sed as

   

Sn ag ee ar

tioned the scout.

Pe eee

Fg eR Ne TET

BILE STORIES:

Pehave

“ind den I vill cut you oop indo eight bieces.
yourseluf for now.”

The bad man snorted and reached for his hip pocket.

Buffalo Bill slapped his arm and pointed to the door
leading out into the office.

“Scatter!” said he briefly, accompanying the word with
a look that made the stranger stare.

Muttering to himself, the man whirled on a spurred
heel and went out. @

‘Dot’s pedder,” chuckled the baron. “Now, all ve are
iss sefen. Der gombination iss pusted.”

“Vou're too free with your hands, baron,” said the
scout. “A word would have explained things to that
swashbuckler and saved the bad blood.” :

“T don’d make éome oxblanations ven a feller shpeaks
mit me in dot tone oof voice,” returned the baron. “I
feel like hafing a sed-to, und I hope dot der feller is
vaiting to aggommodate me.”

But the man was not waiting. When the pards went
back into the office the bravo had thought better of his
intention to avenge the supposed insult and had made
himself scarce.

“Nothing to do for to-day, anyhow, pards,” said the
scout. ‘I’m going up to room eight and make up for
some of the sleep I lost last night.”

“T’m going to roost in an office chair,” remarked Wild
Bill, “and smoke and look over the newspapers.”

“Tm goin’ ter ther nighest gamblin’ house an’ play
the figger eight up an’ down an’ acrost,” averred Old
Nomad.

“As for me,” said the baron, “I vas going aroundt der
town looging for punches oof eights. Id’s a funny pitz-
ness, und I vill see how far 1 can go mit it.” :

“Stay away from the gambling houses, Nick,” cau-
“You're old enough not to need that
advice, | reckon.”

A humorous look crossed the trapper’s face, but never-

‘theless he and the baron left the office by the street door.

Little \Cayuse followed the scout upstairs.
was just moving a cot into room eight:
“Vou want to catch your forty winks, too, eh, Cay-
use?” queried the scout.
“Mebbyso,”” was the indefinite response. ne
Once inside the room the scout threw off his coat
and hat, kicked off his boots, and then unbuckled his”
revolver belt and hung it from one of the bedposts. He
was asleep almost as soon as he had straightened out on
the blankets.
Two hours later he was awakened by Wild Bill. The
room door had been left unlocked, and the Laramie man

A porter

was standing beside the bed with an odd look on his

face.
‘What's the trouble, pard?” inquired the scout, sit-
ting up.
“By gorry,” was the answer, “I don’t know. Not once
in a hundred times would I have jumped in here and
hauled you back from the -Land of Nod for a palaver
with strangers, but this looked so queer to me that I
had to do it.”
“Some one to see me?”
_ For answer, Wild Bill stepped to the door and pulled
it open.
“Come in, vaqueros!’’ he called.
A. patty of men in bell-crowned hats, short, well-worn

- jackets with silver-dollar buttons, and greasy trousers

     

aio acs ser ann! Soe ee’ Aa’ ty iy ion ei ohn Anes seme aon eigenen eames emer knead eet ane nena ese

 

 

 

hey
m_

Se

ma

‘

THE BUFFALO

with a flare at the bottoms, entered the room in single
file with militaty precision, came to a halt beside the
scout’s bed, and right-faced.

They were all Mexicans, and there were eight of them.

ee
CHABTER 1H.
THE -VAGU EROS:

Buffalo Bill, sitting ‘typ on the edge of the bed, took
in this strange proceeding with a surprise that was al-
most overmastered by a desire to laugh: »The grave
countenances of the Mexicans contributed not a little to
the ludicrousness of the situation.

The quarters were cramped, and the eight men were
so close together in “company front’? that the elbows
of each one dug into the ribs of those on his right and
left. There was just room for the eight between. the
Ge COutS Bed and Little Cayuse’s. cot.

_ Like Buffalo Bill, the Piute boy was sitting bolt up-

right and staring.
P<  Aiteab ouns, Hickok!”

did you pick up an army of this size?”

“Well,” grinned the Laramie man, “they marched into
the office and asked for Buffalo Bill; the clerk pointed
to me, and they countermarched in my direction. The
boss of the outfit is the man with his trousers tucked in
his boot tops, there at the head of the line. He’ll tell
you what's bothering him if you give him time enough.”
_ The only Mexican in the lot who had the bottoms of
his trousers pushed into the tops of his boots was the
man at the head of the line, the leader. His brown face
half hid a cunning villainy which the scout did not like..

Nor were the faces of any of the remaining seven much

more engaging.

“But what did you bring them up here for, Hickok ?”
went on the scout.
The leader was still silent, his snapping eyes studying
the scout’s face. ‘
a “They wanted a private palaver,” said Wild Bill apol-
ogetically, “and the only reason I piloted them up here
was because there were eight of them. The eight im-
pressed me so much that I reckoned I’d better give them
a look at you in your own quarters. The leaders speaks
English in good shape—when he gets started.” He di-
rected: his gaze at the leader. ~ “Let her flicker, cap-
tain,” he added, “That’s Buffalo Bill, right in front
of you.” ,

Urged in this way, the Mexican stepped from the top
of the column.

“It is with unbounded joy,” said he, “that I look upon
the great American scout, Buffalo Bill, We hear you
have reached town, and we come in haste from the Mex;
ican quarter to get you to help us.”

“Help you?” repeated the scout.

“Si, sewor. We, the vaqueros from Sonora, need your
valiant arm in the work before us. We will show you
the old turquoise mine, then zou will go into it and
find the eight daggers and the eight pieces of paper that
tell about the eight kegs. We feel that we can trust you.
Your fame, caballero, is ds fair in Mexico as north of
the Rio Grande. The vaqueros will trust no one but
Sefior Cody.”

All this came out in the most matter-of-fact tone, as

}

 

 

exclaimed the scout, “where _

  

DILL SORES. 3
though it was merely a business proposition of the or-
dinary variety. :

Wild Bill slumped down on the cot beside Little
Cayuse.

“By gorry,” he muttered, “even the greasers have got
to thinking that you're a relief bureau. The vaqueros
have some chestnuts they want pulled out of the fire, and
they have honored you with the job.”

“Old turquoise mine,” echoed the scout, “eight dag-

gers, eight pieces of paper, and eight kegs!”

“Si, caballero,” said theman with his trousers in his
boot tops. ‘We are the yaqueros, all trusty men with

knife or pistol, and what we swear by the knife we hold

to as we would to life itself. I am Captain Ramon. Be-
hold!” ;
Captain Ramon turned to the other seven.
“Knives, compadres!” he called.
Instantly seven knives were drawn and held aloft.

Captain Ramon, after seeing all seven blades in the air,

' plucked forth a knife of his own, and raised it.

“Now,” he went on, “speak after me.” Every voice

/joined in as he proceeded: “We, the vaqueros of So-

nora, agree to be friends of the blood and brothers of
Sefior Buffalo Bill, dealing justly by him in all things,
and giving him his rightful share from the eight kegs,
if so he enters the old turquoise mine and secures the
eight daggers and the eight pieces of paper at the tun-
nels end!” ‘

Then, these queer remarks finished, each vaquero
brought down his upraised hand and kissed his naked
steel. Captain Ramon turned once more to the mystified
scout.

“Will you aid us, caballero?” he asked. -

“Is this a joke, or what?” inquired the scout, all
at sea. : :

“Carramba! There is no joke.”

“Where is this old turquoise mine ?”’

“We know, sefior, and no one else but you shall know
when you agree to help us.” Rr

“Well! You say there are eight daggers in the old
mine, and eight pieces of paper?”

oes

“And you want me to go into the mine after the dag-
ee the pieces of paper ?”

“What about the eight kegs?”

Captain Ramon leaned toward the scout and whis-
pered hoarsely :

“They are full of silver money, yes, mucho dinero!
You will have your even share of it for helping us. They.
are filled with pieces-of-eight. You sabe pieces-of-eight,
caballero? It is the old money of Spain, And each kee
is full, full’

The Mexican indicated the way the kegs brimmed with

pieces-of-eight by holding out his hands and lifting the

top one as high as he could.

“I reckon you've hit the wrong trail this trip, Captain
Ramon,” said the scout.. “I’m in this part of the coun-
try on government business and haven't any time for
hunting pieces-of-eight.”

“Reflect, sefior!” begged the Mexican. “All you need
do is to go down into the mine after the daggers and
the eight papers. We, the vaqueros, will do the rest ana
give you your share of the silver!’ Ah, what a wonderful
chance !”

“Why don’t you go down into the old mine yourself

 

 
 

 

 

 

Fs

She tae" Aas a ae “hn aaa Ara ah Ma pasate. serceaticplisiid na derek ian Be ax sada, Yates Soegeys ey I pia ea

\

4 THE BUFFALO

and get your own daggers and your own pieces of pa-
per?” broke in Wild Bill.

Captain Ramon turned toward the Laramie man with a
helpless gesture of the hands.

“Because, sefior,’ he explained, “the old turquoise
mine is muy malo for Mexicanos. We dare not go into
it. An Americano can go, but a Mexicano dare not.”

“Why not?” insisted the. scout.

“He would go down, but he would never more come
up. Ay de mi! A Mexicang’s bones would be left for
all time in the bottom of the “old mine, but an Americano
could come and go without losing so much as one hair
from his head. You will do this, sefior, for a share ot
the silver?”

“Tell ’em maiana, Pard Cody,” spoke up Wild Bill.
“Tis some kind of a frame-up. Pass the ante. I'll show
the bunch the door.”

He started to rise.

“Wait a minute, Hickok,” said the scout. “Where did
this silver come from, Ramon?” he asked of the leader
of the vaqueros.

“From the raid of Morgan, the pirate, on Panama, so
many hundreds of years ago. One of Morgan’s ships
stole away from the rest and came up the Gulf of Lower
California to the River Yuma; there it grounded and
went to pieces. The men aboard, after hard work, got
ashore and divided their kegs of pieces-of-eight.

“Some went one way, some went the other way, but
eight started for Santa Fé on mules, each man with his
keg of silver. Apaches destroyed the mules and seven
of the men, but the other man hid the kegs, and then
hid himself in the old turquoise mine. There he left
the daggers—his own and the other seven taken from
his slain comrades. This country was all Mexican, then,
and my great-great-great-grandfather came northward
on a foray and found the survivor from Panama dying
from thirst on the desert. The survivor lived to tell of
the old mine, and the eight daggers and the eight pieces
of paper, and to warn my ancestor that no Mexican
might go into the turquoise diggings and live.

“But my ancestor was brave, and he and his compadres
laughed to think the mine was muy malo. They found
the place, and two of their number went down, but did
not come back; two more went to find them, and they did
not return; then two more descended, and two more
after that, making eight in all that the old mine had
swallowed. Terror seized the hearts of those who were
left, and they fled. My ancestor lived long in Sonora,
and the tale has been handed down in my family.
we, the vaqueros, are men of great courage, and we
have sworn to recover the kegs and the silver. Will you
help us?” ae

The scout sat back on the bed and laughed loudly.

“Ramon,” said he finally, “you and your friends had

better go back to your cattle. The Southwest is full of ©

yarns like that. No silver from Panama ever got this
far north. It’s ‘a foolish yarn, and | wouldn’t have any-
thing to do with it even if I had the time. I’m not a
rainbow chaser.”

A hard look crept into the face of Ramon, and was
caught up and reflected from the faces of the other
seven.

“Then you will not give us aid?’ demanded Ramon.

“Certainly not! I tell you, it’s a fairy yarn.”

“Poy Dios. it is true! I know of what I speak.”

But.

Se ae

Bria

BILL. STORIES:

“If you're so positive, then get some one else to hetj,
you.”
“You are the only Americano we can trust, the only

“Americano with nerve to go into the old mine. We want

you, caballero!”

“Youll have to count me out,” said the scout finally.
“Adios!”

hen ae

“Open the door, Hickok ordered Buffalo Bill, wav-
ing his hand decisively.

Wild Bill threw open the door.

“Scatter! he called. “If I’d ‘known what fool no-
tions you had under those high hats of yours, amigos,
you'd never have got up here.” -

Ramon ground his teeth, but without another word he
marshalled his vaqueros, and marched them out of the
room and into the hall. The pards listened while the
tramping feet faded away down the stairs.

“Ush!” muttered Little Cayuse.

“That's a combination of eights that jars me some,’
muttered the Laramie man.

“The vaqueros fixed it up,” asserted the scout,

“Bit they couldn’t have fixed up the other combina-
tions that Have come our way since we struck town.”

‘Happenchance!” declared the scout.

“Hm,” muttered Wild Bill, “I’m guessing good and
hard about that, Cody.”

 

 

CHAPTER III.
A WARNING.

Ors just as: [tell vou, Pard Hickok,’ said Buffalo

Bill, “whenever a man looks hard enough for something:

he generally finds it. We've got started on this eight

“business, and whenever we see anything out of which

we can manufacture an eight we take it as more evi-
dence that fate is behind it. As a matter of fact, it’s
only because we're exercising our ingenuity to find
eights.”

“That may be, pard,” returned Wild Bill, “but that
bunch of eight vaqueros with their eight daggers, their
eight pieces of paper, and their eight kegs—by gorry,
there ain’t any way they can be explained.”

“My opinion is that they framed up that play and
their talk—just as you hinted when they first came in.”

“Asking you to get out and help ‘em was what I
thought they had framed up—not anything else. How
could the vaqueros know that figure eights had been
jumping us ever since we struck town?”

“Well, as for that, Nomad and the baron have been
running around for two or three hours, talking about it.
Those vaqueros have keen ears.”

“But what’s their game, Pard Cody? What have they
got up their sleeves?”

Before the scout could answer, some one knocked on
the door. At that moment the scout was pulling on Ins
boots, and it fell to Wild,Bill to answer the summons.

“1d like to see Buffalo Bill,” said a voice from the
hall.

“He’s here, amigo,’ answered the Laramie man.
“Gome in’

The scout looked up, and saw a small, wiry man with
grayish hair. He was neatly dressed in a cheap hand-

 

Se eee

 

 
 

Sit down.

and I haven't been able to accomplish a thing.

 

THE BUFFALO

me-down suit of Eastern cut. The only things about
him that suggested the West were his wide-brimmed
hat and the way he carried himself.
“Buffalo Bill?” queried the caller,
scout with a smile.
“The same,’ answered the scout.
“Tm Jack Nolan, deputy United States marshal from
El Paso.” Put ’er there!’

He held out his hand, and the scout clasped it heart-
ily, the next moment presenting Nolan to Wild Bill and
Cayuse.

“Mighty glad to meet up with you, Nolan,” the scout
went on. “I was told to come here, and that you would
show up and giveame a line on the work I have to do.
Give Nolan a cigar, Hickok.”

By the time the scout got into his coat, the deputy
marshal and the Laramie man were smoking and ex-
changing small talk.

“Now,” said Buffalo Bill, once more seating himself
on the edge of the bed, “‘let’s have it, Nolan. I’ma good
deal in the dark as to what I and my pards are ve do
liere.”’

“You're to find an Englishman who disappeared from
Phoenix six or seven years ago.”

The scout’s disgust was too pronounced to be con-
cealed.

“Is that allf’ he asked. “What has the government
got to do with the Englishman?

“Well, at the time of his disappearance the English-
tman happened to be secretary to the ambassador at
Washington. The name of the missing man is Archi-
bald Henry Clayton-Pierce. Since he was in the diplo-

looking toward the

matic service, it falls on the government to locate him,

if possible.”

“You say he disappeared six or seven years ago?”

Ves. +9

“Then, why hasn’t the government ve looking for
Clayton- -Pierce before ?”

“It has, but without effect. Cenc Picice came to
Southern Arizona to look after some mining interests,
and one night he vanished from the place where he had
been staying, and nothing has since been heard of him.
the government, which had taken up the search by re-
quest of the British ambassador, had to give up, and for
more than five years now the mystery surrounding the

disappearance of Clayton-Pierce has never been cleared

away.’
“What has happened to agitate the matte
this late date?”

“Somebody has died in England and left Clayton-
Pierce a lord, or a duke, or something—provided he’s
alive. Ji he isn’t alive, the title, a castle or two, and a
million pounds, more or less, fall to a man who’s next in
line. .So the government has again got busy. I was
sent here two or three months ago, but the trail is blind,
You
were sent to these parts to see if you couldn't help.”

Buffalo Bill smoked thoughtfully for a few moments.

“Tt’s a hundred to one shot,” he remarked finally, “‘that
Clayton-Pierce will never show up to cut the other Eng-
lishman out of the title, the castles, and the million
pounds. Some one has sent him over the One-way

Trail just to get the personal property he had about
him.”
“We're to prove that—if we can.”

a ma a a a IR nn a a a i

, in the hills prospecting.

~before dark, and Id go alone.

again, at.

 

BILL STORIES. | '

“Do you hoi what sort of mining interests brought
the Englishman to the Southwest, Nalan ve

“Tm told it was an old turquoise mine,
take any stock in that. He stopped with a man named
Bottineau, a rancher, a mile out on the Black Cafion
trail. I’ve tried to see Bottineau, but he has been away
I heard that he was expected
home this evening, and was going out to see him—but I
reckon Ill have to leave that for you. I wouldn't go
Bottineau, from what I
hear, is a peculiar man, and has to be handled with
gloves. There’s a chance, a bare chance, that he knows
more about Clayton- Pierce than he’s ever told.”

“Where does he live?”

“In a ‘dobe, a mile out on the Bes Cafion trail, A
son runs the ranch while his father’s prospecting, and
sells baled hay to travelers and freighters, Jf Bot-
tineatu’s back, I think you could get more out ot him
than any one else, providing you go about it right, But-
falo Bill. If you take any one with you, though, youre
liable to drive the old man into a panic and make him
close up like a clam.”

His that the reason you w on't go 5 along with me?”

“N-n-o,’ replied Nolan: “you see, some other business
has developed since [ struck this part of the country.
By the way, eight greasers just called on you here,
didn’t they ?”’

TONG: 1?

“Those are the fellows I’ve been watching. There's a
gang calling themselves the ‘men-of con armas blancas.
You ‘know. what that. means, 1 reckon. Jiva oréaser
puts a knife into your back, or drops you with a bullet
from atnbush, he’s working ‘con armas blanca, The
gang smtugeles opium and Chinamen into the country,
steals cattle in the United States and drives them: into
Mexico and Mexican cattle and drives them over here,
besides pulling off a general hold-up business.

“There are eight in the gang, and when I spotted these
eight in the Mexican quarter I quit the Clayton-Pierce
business cold, and got on their trail. I’m glad you got
here at just this time, Buffalo Bill. Now you can hunt
for Clayton-Pierce, and Ill run out the trail of the
smugelers. But why did those eight Mexicans call on
you? That’s a point that’s mighty interesting to me,
and perhaps it’s important.”

Briefly the scout told Nolan what had developed dur-
ing his interview with the vaqueros. The deputy mar-
shal listened with a thoughtful frown.

“That's a queer game, | swear!’ he muttered. “Um
sorry you didn’t agree to go with the men to the old
turquoise mine. If wwould. have trailed you with the rest
of your pards, and maybe wed have found something
worth while.”

“Don’t it look queer to you,’ struck in Wild Bill, “that
Clayton-Pierce was interested in a turquoise mine and
that it was the same sort of a mine the eight Mexicans
wanted the scout to visit?”

“Maybe it’s queer,’ admitted Nolan, “and maybe it’s
only part of a scheme the Mexicans were working to
get the scout interested in the case.” He got up. “Vil
have to go and pick up the trail of those eight men
again,’ he continued, “Will you call on Bottineau to-

night, Buffalo Bill?”

AViasis

“Good! Ill see you here in the morning, and we'll lay

but be did t

 

 
     
 

 

 

 

a eT EIT SELES SESTEST ITN SS A TES SS VETS

SET I ALT fe Eg Pa RY a UN lane ad er

i

THE SROURE ALO

some more plans. If you decide that Bottineau had any-
thing to do with the way Clayton-Pierce fell off the
earth, we may be able to settle the mystery in a day or
two. Meanwhile, be warned by me: Don’t have any-
thing to do with those eight men until you give your
pards a tip to follow and find out where they take you.”

The scout, the Laramie man, and the little Piute left
the room with Nolan, and accompanied him downstairs
as far as the hotel (ae.

Hardly had the door closed_and the key rasped in the
lock than a head appeared at the open window. It was
the head of Ramon, of the vaqueros. Instead of a bell-
crowned hat, however, he now wore a slouch hat, and
over his vaquero garb had been drawn the rough cloth-
ing of an American prospector.

After listening at the window until the steps and
voices had faded down the corridor, Ramon sprang
lightly into the room. The crafty look was more in-
tensified than when he had interviewed the scout a short
time before, and there was a baleful sparkle in his eyes.
Evidently Ramon knew exactly what he wanted to do,
and was not long in going about it.

The scout’s belt and revolvers still hung from the bed-
post. Ramon glided to the head of the bed, and removed
the weapons. Swiftly he emptied the cylinders, replacing
the loaded cartridges with others which he had brought
with him.

Having finished his work, he put the two weapons
back in their holsters, gathered up the loaded cartridges,
and dropped them into his pocket, and climbed out of
the window.

The ladder,
dertaking, he carried off, and pushed into a shed.

It was a particularly bold and audacious scheme he
had carried out, there in the heart of the town and in
broad daylight, but buildings at the rear of the hotel had
sttielded his venture from prying eyes.

Making his way to a-cross street, Ramon glided off in
the direction of the Mexican quarter,

CHAP DER IV;
ON THE BLACK CANON TRAIL.

It was eight o’clock that evening when Buffalo Bill
left his. pards, went out in front of the hotel, and
mounted Bear Paw. Wild Bill had gone to the Ranch
Eight corral after Bear Paw, and he had returned riding
nis own horse, Beeswax, and leading the scout’s mount.

“Oof you findt anyt’ing vort’ vile,’ begged the baron,

“send vogt pack, Puffalo Pill, so der resdt oot us can
haf som hands i in der oxcidement.”

“There won’t be any excitement,” laughed the scout.
“T’m just going out of town a ways to make a call.”

“For vy, den, haf you got on your refolfers?”

“It’s a wise precaution always to go ‘heeled’.”’

“Aire ye goin’ erlong with Buffler, Hickok?’ queried
Nomad, noting that the’ Laramie man still kept to his
saddle.

VOntyas jay as the Pive Points, '
VT be batk herein an-hour.”’

The two pards rode off through
their course toward the Five Points.

“Y’m fretting some,’ remarked the Laramie man,

ee Wild Bill.
the gloom, laying

Sanit

which had aided him in his stealthy un-

Se a Nog i os eg A

on Beet ole REST SR AO LER ME ee LE EA TR RL a Pe aD
i

BILL STORIES: ae
P’m riding a ways with you just to tell you to be on your
guard,

“Have you run into any more combinations of eight,
pard?” laughed AS scout.

“Nary a one,’ returnéd Hickok. “When the eight
greasers left they took the last combination with them.
The baron has seen a lot, though, during the course of
the day.”

“Vl warrant you!”

“Nomad, too, seems to be some ro Cp
‘Rat's always the case with Nick when there’s any-
thing superstitious in the wind.”

‘And there’s Cayuse. Of course the Piute don't say
a word, but you can see with half an yeye that he wont
sleep to- night on account of those eight vaqueros.”

“We can overlook such ones in Cayuse’s case,
for he was born into all kinds of superstition, but } Momed.
-and the baron, and Wild Bill ought to know better.”

“Right-o,” said Hiekok, “but it’s
end of the deal that’s taken such hold of me.’

“What then ?’

“It’s the underhand game these eight vaqueros are

~ working.”

“You're sure it’s underhand?”

“Don’t Nolan think they’re smugglers, or worse?”

“Nolan may be mistaken.”

“Tl bet a ten-case note against a last year’s bird’s nest
he’s‘ not mistaken, Pard Cody. The faces oF those eight
vaqueros give them away.”

“Il believe you re right, there.”

“So,” proceeded Wild Bill, taking heart from the ad-
mission, “it’s pretty sure that that yarn about the old
turquoise mine, the eight daggers, and so forth, was cut

out of whole cloth. The vaqueros-have something at the
back of their heads that don’t mean anything good for
you.”

“In that case, pard, we'll attend to the vaqueros later.
Have you seen Nolan since he called on us at the hotel?”

“No. aes

“Or any of the vaqueros?” .

“Haven't seen a sign of the vaqueros, either, although
I spent most of the afternoon slumming“in the Mexican
quarter. A good many cold-game oents hang out in that
part of the town, and I'll bet m oney that many a vil-
lainous scheme has been hatched there.”

Stirrup to stirrup the pards rode into the place where
the five streets came together and gave that part-ef the
town’ its name of ‘Five Points.” The scout pointed
Sear Paw along the thoroughfare which led to the Black
Cafion trail.

“It might be well for you to turn here, Pard Hickok,”
suggested the scout.

“T:can ride as far as the Black Cafion road, I reckon,”
answered Wild Bill, “When we're there we're a mile
from the place you're going, and I'll have plenty of time
to turn back.. Anyhow, I’m not through palavering with
you, ”

The scout made no further objections, and they rode
on, leaving the oil lamps of the Five Points behind them.

“T can't just exactly savvy,” pursued Wild Bill, “
you're to call on this prospector, Bottineau, alone.”’
» Why, because Nolan suggested it.”

“It wasn’t much of a reason he gave.”

“Fle has learned more about Bottineau than we have,
Hickok, and his reason may be a pretty good one.”

why

not the superstitious

 

 

 
 

 

- vaqueros.

EN LIEW SHE OTT ORM a

THE BUBFALO

“There's a chance that he’s straic and
another chance that he’s not.’’
The scout turned suddenly in his saddle, and gazed
sharply at his companion through the dark.
\“What’s come over you now, pard?” he asked.

“Here it is, right at the bull’s-eye first crack. Sup-
pose Nolan is playing a game, as well as the vaqueros 2”
The scout gave vent to a long, amused whistle. :

“The number eight has clouded your faculties, I
reckon,” he laughed.

“You don’t know that this Nolan is what he claims to
be any more than I do,’ persisted Wild Bill.

“Tl take my oath that he’s a deputy marshal, and that
he was sent here to try and locate Clayton-Piérce, and
that he was told to meet me and give me a tip.”

“Then, why don't he hang to the work he was told
to do F. ;

“For the reason that we’re here to attend to the work
and Nolan has something else to claim his attention.”

The two riders had reached the two rows of trees that
marked the beginning of the Black Cafion trail, and the
scout drew to a halt. The trail stretched duskily away
into the distance.

“Here's whet we separate,” said the scout: TW be
hack at the hotel in an hour or two, Hickok. I’m hoping
I'll learn something from Bottineau that will help us dis-
cover what became of Clayton-Pierce.”’

“I don’t believe the fate of the Englishman will ever
be discovered,” returned Wild Bill. “Six or seven years

ht goods, Cody,

is a long time, and it’s a citich that every clue has van-'

ished.”

“All we can do is to do all. we can.” .

“And look after our scalps while we’re doing it.”

“I don’t think our scalps are in any danger.”

“Maybe not, compadre, but I’d got a feeling

“Adios, pard,’’ cut in the scout, using his spurs.

Wild Bill watched him vanish between the two rows
of cottonwoods, then turned Beeswax with a lugubrious

shake of the head, and began retracing his way to the
Five Points.

“Meanwhile the scout was galloping northward, Bear
Paw’s hoofs thumping merrily in the trail.

The night was still and warm. Only a gurele of wa-
ter in the irrigation ditches beside the road, a low hum of
night voices, and the steady thump of Bear Paw’s hoofs
broke the silence.

The. scout figured that he had covered half the dis-
tance separating him from Bottineau’s adobe, when a
horseman appeared suddenly in front of him, riding
slowly in the direction of Phoenix. |

The scout drew quick rein.

“Buenos,.amigo!”’ he hailed.

“Buenos,” answered the other.

“Do you. know where Bottineau,
lives?” asked the scout.

The night was too dark, there between the two rows
of cottonwoods, for him to see very much of the
stranger, but he gathered from his gear that he was a
Mexican.

“Sa,” was the answer, “he lives half a mile farther.

The scout recalled the voice.

“ial’ he exclaimed, “Is that, you; Ramon?”

“The same, caballero,’ replied the leader of. the
“Have you changed your mind about going
with me to the old turquoise mine 2”

 

99

the prospector,

BLL STORIES, 7d

Recalling what Nolan Had said, the scout’s answer was
different from what it would otherwise have been.

“Come to the hotel to-morrow, Ramon, and Ill talk
further with you about it.”

“There is no time to lose, Buffalo Bill,” was the an-
swer, in a voice that had an edge to it. “If you go with
me to the old turquoise mine it must be to- night. We

must start to-night.”

Buffalo Bill ad not like the tone of the Mexican’s
voice nor his manner.

“What are you doing out on the Black Cafion trail at
this time, Ramon?” demanded the scout.

“That is my business, caballero, not yours,” snapped
Ramon, “but,” and here his. voicé took on a smooth:
craftiness, “I will tell the brave Americano that I am
here to meet him.” |

“How did you know I was going to cuintad’s
evening ?”

“Camramba? laughed Ramon.
will, sefior, there is always a way.
put it, up. under your open window.

this

“Where there. is a
I found a ladder, and
While you were

talking with the deputy marshal, I listened. So I knew
you were going to Bottineau’s this evening.”
The frank avowal disqufeted the scout. He rode

closer to. Ramon.

“If you heard that,” he said sharply, “you heard other
things. Listeners never hear much good of themselves.
Your prying tells me plainly that Nolan, in following
you, is not on the wrong track. You're my prisoner,
Ramon !”

Like lightning
falo Bill’s hand,
shadowy, leering

a revolver found its way into Buf-
and he looked over the sights at the
face of the Mexican: es

“Not so,” chuckled Ramon. “The Americano i is ao
prisoner, and not as you say. Look!”

From the north rode three horsemen, coteadinp: iit
like evil specters to command the width of the trail, and
from the south rode four, also deployed to cover the
road, Another revolver found its way into the scout’s
left hand.

“I reckon you and your vaqueros will find you've
trapped a hornet,” said the scout coolly. “I'll attend to
you later, Ramon. Just now I’m going north, and if any.
of your men get in my way there'll be firew orks,”

He tried to spur Beat? Paw onward, but Ramon, with
a quick move, reached out and grabbed the bits.

“Hands off,” cried the scout, “or I'll drop: you out of
your saddle! pr

A jeering laugh was his answer. He pressed. the:
trigger, but only a futile snap followed. Again and
again he tried to fire, but always with the same “result.

“He realized that his weapons had been tampered with,
and reversed ends with them and struck fiercely, at the
sane time digging the rowels into Bear Paw.

The horse leaped forward so violently that the reins
were snatched out of Ramon’s hand. The clubbed re-
volver, however, went to its mark, and the leader of the
rascally vaqueros tumbled limply into the road.

3ut the other seven were crowding close, hemming
the scout in. A dozen hands reached out, some clutching
Bear Paw and the others grabbing the scout.

Dropping his guns, he reached for his knife. Before
he could draw it, he was at hand-grips with three of his
foes, and the struggle carried them from their horses
and dropped them squirming in the dusty trail.

 
 

 

Se.

 

SE NT ASE ATID SGA ENED RASS AT fat SANTO

8 tee DbULoaL)

CHAPREERR. V.
: a
RAMON. 5 SCHEME.

Unhorsed, and with eight against him, Buffalo Bill
fought with his bare fists, and to some purpose, but to
free himself. from his foes, without his revolvers to help,
was a physical impossibility.

Three of the vaqueros he put hors du combat, shaking
himself clear of the encompassing hands and arms and
dealing pile-driver blows right and left. There were
always enough of the Mexicans left, however, to renew
the one-sided combat.

At last the scout went down, and while five of the

vaqueros held him in the trail another placed cords

around his wrists. Two of the Mexicans had ‘suffered
so severely that they had crawled to an irrigation ditch
and were bathing their injuries.

“You fight like a wildcat,’ grunted Ramon, who was
doing the tying. “If the butt of your revolver had not
glanced, I would now be: having a broken skull. Peste!”

The scout, realizing that the fight was over, lay’ pant-
ing in the road. He offered no further resistance, but
strove to recover his strength’ for what lay ahead.

As soon*as his hands were bound, the vaqueros rolled

him over.

“Why have you done this:
angrily.

“You would not go to the old: turquoise mine except
by force,” answered PR on ‘and so, caballero,Ave used
force. . We intend no harm to you.
from now on, there will be nd more rough work.”

“You say you! want me to help you because you can
depend on me,” said the scout dryly. “How much de-
pendence do you think you can place in me after this?”

“That- counts, for nothing, senor. You will do what
we wish because you have-to, because you can do, noth-
ine else. When you have served us, we will give you
your horse and let you come back to your friends. -And
we will give you your share of the Panama silver also.
No one shall say that the vaqueros did not treat you
fairly.”

“If you're bound to have me go to this old mine and
help you carry out your foolish | plan, instead’ of taking

°” demanded the prisoner

“me uw illingly, put it off till toanorrow, and I promise

to ride with you wherever you want to go, and do what-
ever you want done. I have work on hand for to-night.”

“It is impossible, senor. You are to go to-night. It is
not safe for the vaqueros to return to the town. Nor
can we remain long here in the trail.”

“Tf you won't be reasonable,” flared the scout, “then

I shall make yougno promises.”
“We ask for none,’ replied Ramon, “You will do
what we want, because it will be best for you.”

He gave some orders in Spanish to his men, and a
was slipped betawveen the scout’s jaws. Bear Paw
was then led to the spot, roped between two of the Mex-
ican’s horses. The two Mexicans who had been bath-
ing and attending to their injuries wére each on one of
the horses. The other six men got Buffalo Bill to his
feet, and hoisted him bodily into his saddle.

The prisoner’s feet were then bound to the saddle
eirths, and a spare riata was used to lash him to the
pommel. One of the men. on a horse to which Bear
Paw was tied, vacated-his place for Ramon. The latter

OO:
OS

NT Te a en at i Dt ey Ue ae te NNN OO a tari sh

If you will be quiet”

Re Cee BEST RG

=
BILL STORIES.

yaulted into the saddle, gave a quick order, and the small
avalcade got in motion.

Ramon was on Buffalo Bill’s right, and another
vaquero on his left. The remaining six Mexicans fol-
lowed two and two.

A rapid pace was set by Ramon. A short distance be-
yond the irrigation canal a cross road was taken, which
led the party into the Cave Creek, then the course was

‘laid northward again.

For an hour the rapid journey continued. During that
time the scattered ranch ie were left far in the rear,
and the party reached the desert at the fooy of the
Phoenix Mountains,

Here Ramon reached over to remove the gag from his
prisoner’s lips.

“No matter how much you call out now,
said the Mexican, “only the coyotes will hear/you.
you made up your mind to be peaceable?”

“As long as my hands are tied,’ answered the scout

ominously.
-“So much thé worse forsyou, then, when your hands
are released. Por Dios, what a fighter you are! I have
a bad pain in the head, and two of my vaqueros are
suffering the same. Had there been good cartridges in
your revolvers, amigo, some of us soldiers of fortune
would have crossed the divide.

“What do you know about those cartridges?”
manded the scout.

Ramon laughed softly.

‘1 knew,” "He replied, that unless you had discov-
ered the trick and put good ones in your guns, [ and my
men were perfectly safe. Of course, as you were in the
town, it was not likely that you would pay much atten-
tion to your firearms, so I stopped you in the trail and
took a chance. Four of my vaqueros were in hiding be-
-hind you, and three more were in front.”

“This was your plan, then, ever since you roosted on
the ladder under my open window and listened to my
talk with the deputy marshal?’

Exactly) so; caballero, Also, I went into the room
when you went out, found you had not taken your re;
volvers with you, and tampered with the cartridges.
We. vaqueros are foxes,’ Ramon laughed; “we think
much, and we act quietly.”

caballero,
Have

cde-

66

“You're a gang of thieves and smugglers,’ declared
the scout.
“We havé to ive? said Ramon coolly. “Oneg man

does one thing, and another man another. As for-us, we
do what is easiest and pays best.”

“You admit, then, that you are the men Nolan waits
to capture?”
' “Carramba! I admit nothing, except that we want
you to go ‘down into the old turquoise mine and get the
eight daggers and the eight pieces of paper. When we
get the kegs, then we will give you your share of the
silver and let you go back to yor ur compadres. We are
fair-minded men, as you shall see.’

“You know where this old mine is?”

“Si. We have visited it, I and my vaqueros, but we
dared not go down.”

“If it’s fatal to a Mexican, why isn’t it equally fatal

to an Americano?”
“Carramba! How should I know ?’
“Youre afraid of your own necks, and you want me
to take the risk. Is that it?”
“If any one is to die, we would rather

+>

it would he

SR Ra ie Sip OR ams F

 
 

S

 

SOP LN Cee a Dee ROR TN OE Pe RS

 

TEE BUEBALO

you. That is natural, ch? But we are told that the
mine is not muy malo for Americanos.”

“You may have found what you think isthe old mine,
Ramon, but you ought to have sense enough to under-
stand that the yarn about the eight daggers, the pieces
of paper, and the kegs is a fake. And your explanation
as to where the silver came from sounds equally fishy.
You are playing havoc with my business by.taking me
away like this, and you are wasting your own time, no
less than mine.” <
-. “We shall see,” muttered Ramon. , cee

“How far is it to where we are going?’

“Two nights’ ride, caballero. When day comes, and
it is too hot to travel, we will camp by a spring we know
about: then, when night falls, we will ride again. - So,
after the end of the next sleep, we shall be at the mine.”

For some time the party galloped in silence. There
was no talk among the vaqueros. They were silent and
‘sombre, but fromthe way they sprang to obey Ramon
there was no doubt of their devotion to him, or that they
would fight to the last breath in his cause.

The whole lot of them must have believed implicitly

in the eight daggers, the eight pieces of paper, and all’

the rest of the legend that Ramon had. dug up in
Sonora. This promised little for their mental calibre.

There was not a little chagrin mixed up with the
scout’s reflections. He had laughed at Wild Bill’s vague
warnings, and had not for a moment expected attack
from the vaqueros.

He gave the Mexicans credit for considerable shrewd-
ness in the way they had laid their plans, and he could
not understand why, being so shrewd in one matter,
they should be so dense in dealing with another.

Stories of lost mines, of hidden Aztec treasure, and
of cachéd wealth from various sources flew thick over
the Southwest. Many lives had been lost in the attempt

-,to run down these legends, and there was not one single

instance on record where any of the fortune hunters had
been su¢cessiul.

This yarn about the pieces-of-eight from Panama was

only another phase of the usual wonder story, but it was”

so foolishly extravagant in all its details that it seemed
incomprehensible that any sane person should take any
stock in it. :

The scout’s anger was aroused because,--in chasing
this extraordinary rainbow, the Mexicans had forcibly
included him in their plans.

With now and then a rest to breathe their horses, the
rapid pace was kept up through the mountains. ‘There
was no trail to guide the vaqueros, but Ramon seemed
perfectly familiar with the route, and did not hesitate a
moment in laying the course.

When the first gray of dawn fluttered its banners over
the eastern peaks, the party descended into a gully
through which a rivttlet trickled over the dry sand.
Mesquite bushes—infallible signs of water in ‘ that
parched land—grew thickly in the ravine.

The horsemen forced their way through the brush,
‘and, at last, reached the spring that fed the rivulet. Hard
by the spring, in a notch of the gully bank, stood a com-
fortable-looking adobe house.

“THere’s our first camp, caballero,’ announced Ramon,
throwing the reins over the head of his tired horse.
“Here we rest, and eat, and sleep. To-night we ride
on to the old turquoise mine.”

©

3

down their lives for me.

“would be in the wilds of Sonora.

  

Hii, STORIES 9

COAPTER Vi.
AT THE RENDEZVOUS.

After that hard fight’s ride, the interior of the cabin
offered comforts that were gratefully received. As soon
as the scout was untied from his saddle, his feet were
again bound—plainly, his captors were taking no chances
with him. Two Mexicans, under’ direction of Ramon,
lifted him, and carried him into the house, laying him
on a couch covered with a Navajo blanket.

The scout, taking in the one room of the cabin from
the couch, was surprised to find such a comfortable
dwelling in the heart of the desert. . :

The windows of the room were small, and set deeply
in the mud wall. A narrow Mexican fireplace, in which
sticks burned standing on end, was thrown across one
corner of the room. A number of stools were scattered
about, and on one, close to the scout, sat a silent, vigi-
lant Mexican with a revolver on his knees.

“Whose house is this?” inquired the scout.

The vaquero grunted and laid a finger on his lips. .

Ramon, who had been. overseeing..the care of the
horses, entered the house in time to hear the question.

“He'll not talk with you, caballero,’ said Ramon.
“for the man who exchanges so much as a word with
you I have promised thirty lashes.”

“You use the iron hand, eh, in dealing with your
men?” querred the scout.

“T can have them flogged,
Con. can eo, furtier.),

He passed to the end of the room, and indicated two
iron rings set, at the height of his breast, in. the adobe
wall.

“When a man is flogged we tie him here,’ he went on.
“Tt is good for them, this flogging. I believe in harsh
discipline. As a result, my men love me—would lay
They know that I do what I

39

returned Ramon darkly,

say, always.”

Ramon dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand,
and seated himself on the stool he vacated. ‘

“Then this is your secret hang out, is it?’ asked the .
scout,

“Tt is where we come for rest. We are as safe as we
But this is not our
only hang out, caballero, We have a better one on the
other side of the Rio Grande.”

“You brought me here with my eyes open,’
the scout significantly.

“But by night, senior,” qualified Ramon. “Could you
cover our trail from Phoenix and come here again?”
e the scout did not answer. He was trying to think
whether such a move would be possible for him.

“But, even if you could,’ proceeded Ramon, “what
good would it do? You will get the daggers and the
papers from the ‘mine, we will find the kegs of silver,
and then I and my men can give up this roving life and
go where we will and live asewe please. After this, the
little adobe will know us no more, so it makes little dif-
ference whether you could find your way here or not
after you are released. Your hands and arms are
cramped, eh?” he asked, noting how his prisoner hitched
about in order to relieve his numbed limbs.

“Naturally,” answered the scout.

“Breakfast will soon be brought in. If I free your
hands, caballero, have I your promise that you will not

,

observed

>

ct te fete ts a keh aes SA cath th te Ae

 
 

gee ee trot teacecernreret

\

ayor Se eee Se ee ee EO ey A ae Se
LE PEED LORS COE LID ARE. OS A ERM eI ie Sc Nea a5 ee OR SEE ey, ARTUR BY SESE ESPINER i RS Dh ee

10 es THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

try to kill me or escape? And will you agree to let the
ropes be put on you again when I am ready?”

There was nothing to be gained by refusing the prom-:

ise, and the scout gave it. Then, without an instant’s
hesitation, Ramon untied the ropes. The scout sat up
and stretched his arms above his head, and fell to rub-
bing his chafed wrists.

“You see,” continued Ramon, harping on the same
old tune, “we caballeros play fair. All we ask is that
you go down into the old mine for us. Will you do
that, too?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet as to that,” answered
Buffalo Bill. “You haven’t taken much risk in allowing
me the use of my hands for a little while. I am un-
armed, and, judging from what I see through the win-
dows, several of your men are guarding the outside of
the adobe.”

Ramon laughed.

“It is well to be sure, caballero, in dealing with a man
like you. Ah, here comes the breakfast.”
_-The scout was surprised at the excellence of the meal
that was set before him and Ramon.

- There was a stew of rice, with pieces of beef floating

around in it, plantains, tortillas, water cresses, and ex-

cellent coffee served in jicaras or halved cocoanut shells.
Following this there was an after course of creamy
white cheese, cut in slices and eaten with honey.

“You soldiers of fortune live well,” commented the
SCORE On

“When we meet a provision train,” explained Ramon
amiably, “we halt it and take what we please. Of course
we take the best. The life we lead is hard, and it is well
to please the stomach.”

The meal finished and the empty dishes removed,
Ramon handed the scout a cigar. They smoked to-
gether like friends, and the notion that one was the cap-
tive and the other the captor was. well nigh lost
sight of.

‘Ramon was a fluent talker, and he handled the English
language in such a way that the scout could not but ex-
press surprise.

“That is easy explained, caballero,’ said Ramon.
“Until I took to the hills I lived much of my life north of
the Rio Grande. When one lives much with the Amer-
icanos, he comes to talk like the Americanos. Am T not
treating you well, eh?”

“You are,” was the response, with just a vein of sar-
easm back of it.

“Can you not overlook the method of your capture,”
continued Ramon, “and be a good fellow with the
vaqueros ?” '

“Hardly,” replied the scout. “If you had agreed to
my proposition last night, and put off the start for the
old turquoise mine until to-day, I would have gone with
you willingly. Now my pards know nothing about what
has happened to me, and I left work last night that I
should have attended to. I will get away from you at
the first opportunity, Ramon, and before you have done
with me you may find that you have caught a tartar.”

A savage glint arose in Ramon’s eyes, but it died out
again. He laughed.

In‘ that case, caballero,” said he, “I must tie your

‘hands again. Remember your promise when T took the

ropes off your wrists.”
_ The scout submitted passively to. the tying. When
that was finished, and the prisoner once more stretched

_kerchief bandage about his forehead.

out on the couch, Ramon summoned a guard and left
the cabin.

For a long time Buffalo Bill thought over the situa-
tion. If the actions of Ramon perplexed him, he was
not for a moment beguiled into thinking that he was not
in danger. Perils hedged him around on every side.
He was completely in the hands and at the mercy of the
vaqueros.

Suppose, when he reached the old mine, he went safely
down into it and found no daggers, no pieces of paper?
Reason assured him that he would not find what he was
sent for. When he returned and reported the fact,
Ramon and the other vaqueros would not believe him.
They—steeped in illusion as they were—would believe
that he had found what he was sent for, but was holding
back the information in order to secure the kegs of sil-

_ ver for himself.

To avoid goading the vaqueros into taking his life, or

putting him to the torture, the scout must effect his es-

cape. But how was that possible; guarded as he was?
He looked at the Mexican who was guarding him.
The fellow was one of the two who had suffered most
during the skirmish on the Black Cafion trail. One side
of his face was bruised and swollen, and he had a hand-
The glare in the
guard’s eyes when they met the scout’s was murderous.

No, there was no help to be had from Ramon’s men.
The scout would not be able to bribe them. At least two
of the .vaqueros were ready, at the first word from
Ramon, to sponge the scout from the land of the living.
And as these two felt, so must the others feel, even if in
lesser measure.

‘The scout regretted that he had not allowed Wild
Bill to trail after him along the Black Cafion road; then,
if the Laramie man could not have come up in time to
help his pard get the better of the vaqueros, he could at
least have followed them, and stood ready to give the
prisoner a helping hand.

But the scout had plainly told his pards that®he must
make the trip to Bottineau’s alone, in accordance with
Nolan’s' advice. Because of that those who had been
left in Phoenix would have absolutely no clue as to
what had happened to Buffalo Bill.

If no chance offered for. escape, the scout reasoned
that he must go on, and even go down into the mine.
After that he would have to trust to luck—to “Cody
luck,” as the old trapper delighted to call it,

By watching the sunlight on the cabin floor the scout
was able to keep track of the time up till noon. After
that, as the wall of the notch shut in the cabin on the
west, he could’only figure the time by the waning light.

It was nearly sunset, as he judged, when the next. meal
was served. This time his hands were not released, and
Ramon fed him, ae

“The horses are ready,” announced Ramon, when the
meal was finished, “and we shall travel as before, It
will not be possible for you to escape, but, much as we
need you, caballero, if you should try it, you would be
stopped by bullets. * And, let me tell you, my vaqueros
know how to shoot.”

Ramon shouted an order, and two of his men appeared
and carried the scout out of the house just as he had
been brought into it. Six men were holding him when

3

the ropes were taken from his feet to permit him to get
into the saddle, and he was then bound to Bear Paw

 

 

 
 

 

 

CT oe BILL.

just as he had been bound before, and Bear Paw. was
secured to two of the Mexicans’ mounts.

It was sundown when the vaqueros took up - the last
lap of their journey.

The scout, as he rode between Ramon and the vaquero
on his-left, wondered what the end of that venture was
to be.

CHAPT ER VLE
RAMON’S RING.

“See this, caballero!”

It was Ramon who spoke, and with the words he
leaned toward the scout and extended his right hand.
On the third finger of the hand was a ring set with a
polished turquoise.

Although the light was fading there in the ravine, yet
it sufficed for the scout to get a.gaod view of the stone.

“What of it?” asked Buffalo Bill.

“Tt came from-the old turquoise mine, to which we —

9

are now going,” replied Ramon.

“You got it from theres”

“The ancestor I told you of got it from there.”

“But how? You said that eight Mexicans went into
the mine and never came out again. Some one must
have visited the mine and Jett it safely if your ancestor
brought away a turquoise.”

“My ancestor, the conquistadore, picked it up in the
mine entrance. He did not have to go in after it.”

“Even at that, some one brought it out of the mine.’

“The ancient Aztecs, caballero. *It was their mine,
and when the “Spaniards came they put a curse on it for
all of Spanish blood.”

“Was the man who survived those who got way with
the silver from Panama an Aztec?”

“Not so! Pure Castilian, sefor.”

‘The scout laughed.

“What are you enjoying?’ demanded. Ramon.

“Why, the fact that your yarn don’t hang together,”
returned the scout.

‘Where is the story at fault?”

“Tell me this: Who left the eight daggers and the
eight pieces of paper in the breast of the tunnel?”

“The man who had the kegs of pieces-of-eight.”’

“Tf I recall your yarn correctly, Ramon, the man went
into the old mine to escape from the Apaches ?”

“St, 32

“And he was 2 pure ‘Castilian blood ?”’
“Ihave sard,*
“And your uncle and his gang found him dying of

’ thirst in the desert?”

“That isthe truth.”

“Then, Ramon, at least one Spaniard must have gone
into the mine and escaped from it.”

For a moment Ramon was up a very -tall he He
frowned and bit at a cigarro he was smoking.

“The curse of the old Aztecs must have “changed,” he
explained gravely, “so that it fell only on the Mexicans.”

“Let it go at that,’ said the scout dryly.

“This ring,” went on Ramon, ‘‘always tells me when I
am to have good luck or bad.”

“More foolishness, eh?”

“Not at all. You see, the stone is a light blue—what
is called a robin’s ege blue. Whenever it is like that 1

 

RR aR ea ee Tiree tare ae a Rl aN Sects nes aa Rela cr

 

STORIES. . a

m in for a run of fine fortune. Whenever it gets pale
and almost milky white, I have to look out for ill luck.”

The scout was familiar with this superstition, and he
was also familiar with the fact that certain atmospheric
conditions, and not the god of luck, causes the color of
the turquoise to change. But why,explain to a man like
Ramon? ,

rl notice. ’: said: te scout sarcastically,
very fine blue at present.”

“Which proves,’ .was s triumphant response at the
leader of the vaqueros, “that I did right in taking you
away to help us.

For hours that night the vaqueros and their prisoner
traveled over rough ‘country. It was slow going, and in
some places dangerous. Frequent stops were made to
rest the horses.

All the vaqueros were used to the saddle, yet none
more so than was, Buffalo Bill. There was not one of
them but was weary of the leather he sat on long before
the end of the journey was in sight.

Ramon had fits of talking. For many mrles of rough,
up-and-down travel he kept as silent as his seven follow-
ers; then, while they were covering the hardest part of
the trail, he would begin to talk.

“Why were you going to Bottineau’s, sefior?” he asked
once.

“That has nothing to do with your Turquoise mine,
Ramon,” the scout-answered.

“T do not press to know what does not concern me.”

“Then don’t press to know. this.”

Then, at another time:

‘Do you think, caballero,’ Ramon inquired, in a jest-
ing tone, “that you could retrace our way through this
ountry ?”

“A good trailer might do it,” said Buffalo Bill.

“No trailer could, not.even an Apache, who is half
bloodhound. We have crossed places where the rock 1s
as hard as flint.”

“And others where there was a cushion of sand under
the horses’ hoofs. A, good trailer, Ramon, hunts for the
soft ground, and pays little attention to what lies be-
tween.”

This remark seemed to worry Ramon somewhat.

“You have a little Piute among your pards, caballero,”
he went on. “Is he a good trailer?’

“Better than any Apache you ever saw,”
scout.

He knew that Ramon was casting up the probabilities
of the scout’s pards tracking the vaqueros. * The scout
did as much as he could to make the leader uncom-
fortable.

There was a moon that night, and had it not been
bright the scout felt sure that some vaquero neck, or
perhaps his own, would have paid for the temerity of
Ramon in leading his gang through such country. be-
tween suns.

At last day came and ‘found the party at the foot of
a tagged uplift, in the sheer wall of which could be seen
the black opening of a tunnel.

“There, caballero,” said Ramon, pune to the hole,
“as the old turquoise mine.’

“It’s different from any turquoise mine I ever saw be-
fore,’ remarked-the scout. “I have been to the place
where ‘the blue stones of Los Cerillos are found, and
those mines are pits hundreds of feet deep and hundreds
of feet across.’

iat ab ase

8

declared the

 
anyhow.

 

 

EH ube ok Rasa Maresh avarseaaobAch. ea nse oyster Tee ac pre Rsk Seas Ma rales STS STADE A i Make NR a

THE (BURR ALO) BIEL aS TORIES.

Ramon shrugged his shoulders.

“There are different kinds of turquoise mines,” said
he, “and those of New Mexico are not of a kind with
these of Arizona.” ,

“You're a pretty slick hand at dodging probabilities,
Ramon,” smiled the scout; ‘I can say that much for you,
Where do we camp?”

“Eere by the little acequia.”

Ramon turned sharply from the base of the mountain,
rode for perhaps a hundred yards, and rounded a jutting
spur. Here was a small acequia, or ditch, so ancient
that ironwood trees, hundreds of years old, flourished in
the earth thrown up along its banks.

A feeble stream, seeping through some distant part of
the mountain, flowed through the ditch, then out of it,
and sank into the sands of a scorched valley.

Under the mesquite bushes, the palo-verde, and the
scragely ironwood trees, the caravan came to a halt.
The scout was removed from his horse, placed in the
shade, and his feet again bound.

Two of the vaqueros—by accident or design the two
men who had suffered most during the fight on the Black
Cafion trail—were told off to guard the prisoner. While
the horses were being cared for and picketed to graze on
the thin gamma grass, Ramon withdrew with his next
in command, and had a very close and animated con-
versation.

Breakfast was taken from the haversacks, and con-
sisted principally of jerked meat and pulque. The scout
contented himself with the jerked meat, and watched the
pulque bottles going the rounds with some anxiety. The
more liquor the vaqueros drank, the worse, he felt,
would it be for him,

The cold meal finished, Ramon stepped to the scout’s
side.

“Sleep, caballero,
we are ready.”

Ready—for what? ran the scout’s thoughts. But he
would cross that bridge when he came to it. Laying his
head on his saddle, which Ramon had obliginely placed
for him, he was not long in going to sleep.

When he awoke, he found Ramon bending over and
shaking him. He sat up quickly.

“We are ready, caballero,’ said Ramon; and there was
a ring of deadly menace,in his voice.

The scout found that his feet had been freed. As the
leader of the vaqueros spoke, he leaned down and severed
the ropes about the scout’s wrists.

The scout then discovered that he was surrounded by
a cordon of seven men, each with a revolver drawn and
leveled in his direction, Ramon stepped back into the
cordon, plucked his own six-shooter from his belt, and
likewise leveled it.

“Get up, sefor!” he.ordered.

The scout sprang to his feet, his eves peering over the
heads of the Mexicans and searching in all directions for
Bear Paw.

3

said he. .““We will wake you when

hand, he might have dared the bullets in a rash attempt
at escape. Ramon divined something of what was pass-
ing in the scout’s mind.
“Your caballo, senor,” he rapped out, “is with the rest
of the horses, and beyond your reach. Now, listen! Are

you willing to enter the old mine and secure the daggers.

and the pieces of paper?”
“You seem to hold all the trumps this hand, Ramon,”

What he was meditating he hardly knew, .
but, 1f he could have seen Bear Paw conveniently at

he answered coolly, “and there 1s nothing for me but to
do what you wish.’

“Buenos! You will walk around the spur and to the
mouth of the tunnel. Every step our weapons will be
on you, sefor, so beware what you do.”

As the scout, limping’ a little on his benumbed feet,
walked around the spur and to the mouth of the old
mine, the vaqueros maved with him in a circle—those in
front walking backward. In front of the opening into
the mountain, Ramon stepped forth, and handed the
prisoner a candle and some matches.

“What you will find besides the daggers and the paper
pieces,” said the leader of the gang, “I do not know, but
the mine is your one chance of life.”

He waved his hand. The vaqueros between the scout
and the tunnel entrance drew to right and left, so that
the whole of the gang formed a half circle, with the
scout facing the hole in the wall.

“Go,” cried Ramon, “‘or we fire!”

“If anything goes wrong with me,” said the scout,
facing around for a moment, “there are those in Phoenix
who will have their pay from the men of con armas
blancas!”’

With that he vanished into the gloomy maw of the
old turquoise mine.

CHAPTER Vitti.
THE SETDING DEATH:

Buffalo Bill had been in many old mines, and this one
offered no terrors. Had he been superstitious, he might
have hung back, but there was not a trace of supersti-
tion in his make-up. All he feared was some old pitfall,
half hidden by débris, or the dropping of loose stones
from the tunnel’s roof, A few yards. inside the entrance
he paused to light his candle, then cautiously pushed on-
ward into the gloom.

As he proceeded, he held the candle high above his
head, and examined roof, side walls, and floor.

The mine was very old, there could be no possible
doubt on that score.

The tunnel was through granite. It seemed to the
scout as though the softer substance enclosing the bits
of turquoise had, by some freak of nature, been forced
in a circular column through the solid rock. The an-
cient miners, therefore, had only to dig out the column,
mining their turquoise as they made the tunnel.

There was a groove in the bottom of the tunnel, worn
almost a foot into the hard stone. This groove, it was
evident, had been worn by the passing of moccasined
feet. The slaves of the Montezumas, drudging under
some old task master and taking the royal gem from the
bowels. of the mountain, must have caused the gouge in
the tunnel floor,

How many countless thousands of times had those
slaves passed and repassed in order to etch this token of
their toil in the flintlike granite! There, in the tunnel,
Buffalo Bill had a vision of those half-naked. slaves,
bending under their burdens, scourged back and forth in
their tasks by the cutting lashes of Montezuma’s over-
seers.

The Aztec name for the turquoise was chalchuite, and
they had sent four magnificent specimens of the gem to
Cortez, the Conqueror, with the words: ‘“‘A gift to our

 

 

 

 
 

 

| THE BURERALO

emperor, designed as a mark of highest respect—each
gem worth more than a wagon load of gold!” — But
when the gems reached Valladolid, in Spain, they were
found to be worth but little more than four wagon loads
of earth.

. But the chalehuite, nevertheless, was considered by
the Aztecs as the most priceless gem in their dominions.

The scout, keeping to the ancient path, continued on
and on, following the windings of the bore.

Bats usually frequent abandoned mines, and he won-
dered why he found none in this one.

Perhaps he was a hundred yards from the entrance
to the tunnel when he suddenly halted and. instinctively
drew back. At his feet a pit opened, dropping sheer
downward into utter blackness. The tunnel, he saw,
went no farther in a horizontal direction.

The top of a pole projected from the pit, and its sides
were notched. Notched poles, it seemed, had been used
by the old miners in place of ladders.

This pole, which was of cedar wood and which the dry
atmosphere had saved from decay, was worn smooth and
shiny by calloused hands and moccasined feet that had
long since vanished.

Swinging himself over the edge of the pit, the scout
descended to another level. “That column of turquoise-
bearing detritus hadgmade many devious windings in its
passage through the mountain !

So far the scout had ‘seen nothing at all terrifying, but
scarcely had. he begun traversing this second tunnel
when he heard a strange hissing sound breaking through
the gravelike silence of the mine.

The sound came from straight ahead and grew louder
as he warily advanced. Abruptly it ceased, the air in his
vicinity was violently disturbed; there came a peculiar
grinding noise as of gigantic grindstones whirling
against each other. For perhaps a minute this: lasted,
then again silence fell, and the air rushed away from the
scout toward the farther limits of the tunnel, —

Buffalo Bill was mightily puzzled. Had human
agency caused those peculiar noises? Human agency!
What could human beings be doing in that old, deserted
mine? ‘

Having no belief in the supernatural, and being of an
intrepid nature as he was, the scout proceeded to investi-
gate. Inasmuch as he was dealing with the unknown,
he redoubled his precaution, Step by step he felt his
way, circling the candle above his head and watching all
sides as he moved forward.

Presently the hissing began again from no great dis-
tance in front of him. As he stood, every sense on the
alert, watching and waiting for he knew not what, the
hissing became as asthousand serpents, then ceased.

The scout gasped and fell back, horror for one brief
instant gripping his heart with a clammy hand. The two
walls of the tunnel, directly ahead of him, silently, stead-
ily, as though they were part of some huge sentient ma-
chine, moved toward each other, ground together, and
then slid back into place.

Buffalo Bill was thunderstruck. Was this a natural
phenomenon, caused by those vast pent-up forces which
seethe so close to the desert’s crust? :

He stood where he was and waited for the walls once
more to slide together. In due course this happened, ,

and under his eyes it happened again and again at regu-
lar intervals. First came the hissing noise, which grew
louder and louder; then silence and the sliding together

 

 

BILL’) STORIES. 13

of the granite walls; then a grinding noise and the re-
turn of the running and foot walls to their places.

The scout’s watch told him that this phenomenon hap-
pened once every fifteen minutes, coming as regularly
as clockwork. Sitting down on the edge of the worn
groove in the tunnel floor, he puzzled his mind over the
occurrence.

It seemed to him that the same tremendous power that
caused earthquakes and the eruption of volcanoes was at
work in this old mine. The hissing was by nature’s
steam engine, and the escape of the vapor told that the
power was rising and that something would have to give
way. The walls, under the pressure, slid toward each
other, thus in some way affording relief to the im-
prisoned forces. After that the walls dropped naturally
back into place.

Should the scout dare death by continuing his ex-
plorations? There was something about that old mine
that fascinated him. Even if he did not go on, he would
stand in as great peril from the vaqueros if he returned
to the outer air empty-handed. He had a settled con-
viction that he must return empty-handed, and he had
all along been cherishing a hope that the mine might
offer some means of escape from his Mexican. enemies.

The grooved path ran on between the unstable walls.
That might indicate that the ancient workers had
avoided calamity by passing through that part of the
tunnel in the interval between the sliding together of |
the walls. If they had done the trick, then surely he
could repeat it.

But—and here his speculations ran into a dead wall—
suppose this phenomenon had manifested itself after the
old miners had deserted the workings? Suppose it was
ihe sliding walls that had forced them to abandon the
mine? Perhaps, indeed, this great force of nature was
the traditional curse pronounced: on the place by the
Aztecs ! |

The scout got up resolutely, the candle in his hand.

“T’ll try to make a dash through that dangerous part
of the tunnel,’ he thought. “I might as well face that
peril as to go back and face the Mexicans. It’s a cer-
tainty that all the rest of the tunnel isn’t composed of
walls that grind together. Beyond this part of the level
I may find something that will help me out of this tight
corner.”

Quietly, resolutely he waited for the walls to grind to-
gether and again draw apart. He glanced at his watch,
noted the time and plunged forward into the gloom.

He saw but little as he raced, but that little offered
suggestions that he was not slow to apply to his own
case.

The rubbing of the walls had grounded off the roug
faces of the rocks. When he reached the place where
the walls were not ground in this way, he realized that
he would be in safety.

His flying feet had not carried him far when he
tripped over something in his path that rattled like dried
sticks. Barely saving himself a fall, he looked down-
ward, and saw a heap of bleached bones—among them a ~
human skull that grinned mockingly into his face.

His’ flesh began to creep, and he stumbled and scram-
bled onward. Another skeleton got in his way, and then
another, and another, until he had counted eight.

Over the last heap of bones he fell flat, his live, palpi-
tating body writhing among those relics of the dead.
While he was picking himself up, the hissing noise

 

 
 

 

a as Webbe Bs Boke yea

TA. DAE BDUPEALO
echoed in his ears.’ With wide eyes he searched the
walls, and found them ground and_scarred by their
clashing together. He was not yet in a place of safety,
and the phenomenon was about to recur.

The hissing grew and grew as he sprang ahead. He
was madly in haste now, and stumbled and fell again and
again, bruising himself on the sides of the grooved path.

The wind came, and his candle gleam flickered in the
gust and sputtered out, leaving him in darkness. He
was not able to see the walls or to tell when he reached
safety, but he rushed on, reeling, falling, rolling Q
for any movement that would carry him clear of the
awful dangers that threatened.
| The hissing ceased, The draft of air grew stronger
—the walls were sliding together! —

In the funereal silence that intervened the sharp
breath from his lips echoed between the treacherous
walls. Then, all at once, he heard the grinding of the
granite rock faces. And it was behind him !

With a deep breath of relief he fell at full length, and
lay where he had fallen—understanding but one thing,
and that was that he was saved from a horrible fate.

       

 

CHAPTER ix:

THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN,
It was several minutes before the scout recovered him-
self and raised to a sitting posture. Sweat stood out on
his forehead in great drops, and he brushed it away with
the handkerchief about his neck. Never had his’ nerves
been tried in all his peril-sown career as then.
“Talk about facing living enemies!’ he exclaimed;
why, I had rather faced a hundred. armed vaqueros
with only my bare hands than to go through that ex-
perience again! No wonder there’s a curse on this mine!
No wonder the Mexican who vertures in here never gets
out again ! :
“There seems to be some truth, too, in that wild yarn
of Ramon’s,” he ruminated. “I kicked my way through
the bones of eight men—just the number that the old
conquistadore, sent into the place. ‘The: first two came
and were caught between the walls; two more came after
them and likewise had their lives ground out; then four
more came, in pairs, and met the same miserable fate.
Are those the bones of other explorers, oy are they proof
that Ramon is telling the-truth?”

Here was a point that could be settled only by follow-
ing the tunnel to its end. The scout had half made up
his. mind that he would find the eight dag ggers and the
eight pieces of paper. Under ordinary circumstances,
such a “find”? would have surprised him, but now, after
passing through what he had, nothing could surprise
him.

After relighting his candle, and while he sat on the
edge of the “erooved path, leaning against the wall, an-
other fact was borne in on his attention. The smoky
flare of the candle wavered steadily toward the unknown
end of the tunnel. That meant that there was ‘a slight
draft moving in that direction. Since it requires two
outlets*to cause a draft, the scout’s sudden discovery

filled his heart with hope.

lt might be, he argued to himself, that there was an-
other opening to the mine. As a matter of fact, there

+ Aas etn ob nein tl

he

 

Hk ala ee Ra ae

ar aN Sas SESE SALON TE i By ea ae De TAG RE NN TI a

ze a
%

*
BILT. 6. ORES,

should have been two openings, otherwise the foul air
would have collected in the levels and the ancient miners
could not have worked in the heart of the mountain.

Electrified with the idea, the scout jumped up and
continued his journey of discovery. The bore angled in
a most eccentric manner, turning sharp corners and
bending in circles. ‘The scout had lost all sense of direc-
tion, and had not the least idea whether he was going
south, west, east or north.

Close to one of the-sharp turns he paused, startled
almost as much as he had-been when he first saw the two
sections of the mine walls sliding together. What as-
tounded him now was a dull glow of light coming from
around the corner and growing steadily in intensity.

Did that mean some sort of a conflagration at the
other end of the tunnel? Or was it a light borne by
human hands?

Hardly breathing, he left the worn path and crouched
behind a stone that jutted from the foot wall of the level.
With staring eyes he watched the increasing glow.

It was a reddish, flickering gleam, and well nigh blind-
ing, as compared with the. feeble light of the candle.

Pinching out the candle flame and resigning himself to
whatever was to happen, the scout waited, his pes

quickened, and his heart pounding.

What he saw the next momentshe was eds ‘unpre-
pared for. ow

A white man of great. stature, and broad-shouldered,
came around the tunnel’s angle, ‘bearing a flaming pine
knot. The resinous smell éf the burning knot™: sur-
rounded the figure with an acrid atmosphere, and. the
smoke of the torch hovered around it in blurring lines.

Yet, in spite of the smoke, the scout could. see quite
clearly. :
The man had long black hair and beard. The

disheveled locks framed his strong and not ill-shaped
face like a sort of halo. His clothing was a single gar-
ment of panther -skins, looped over one shoulder, falling
nearly to his knees and belted in at the waist with a
rawhide band. His arms, legs, and féet were bare.

The smoking torch was in his right hand. In his left
he carried a rude stone hammer.

Without looking to right or left, but keeping his gaze
directed straight “ahead, this strange wild man passetl
the scout and. vanished around a turn toward the slid-
ing rocks.

The scout heaved a long breath, and’ followed it ‘with
a still longer whistle.

“I wonder,” he muttered, “if I’m asleep and dreaming
aoe Is this ancient turquoise mine really inhabited by

that Old Man of the Mountain, or has he just strolled
in here between those sliding rocks, and is he new on his
way out again?’ ~

Even at that supreme moment the scout had a thought
that brought a ehuckle.

“Tf he does govout,’”” ran the scout’s thought, “I'd give
something hanc dsome if I could have a look at those
greasers "when the Old Man of the Mountain faces
them! From the looks of him, he could take four of the
vaqteros in each hand and nee their heads together.”

This notion led to something else of creater | impor-
tance,

If the Old Man of the Mountain was really going out
of the mine, the scout’s cue was to follow him, During
the skirmish that followed between the wild man and
the Mexicans, very likely the scout could help on the

Ws

 
 

cure Bear Paw. then head toward Phoenix.

 

THE BUFFALO

work of the stone hammer with his own fists. Thus, if

the wild man and he could get the better of the vaqueros,
the way to escape would be open.

Aroused by this thought, Buffalo Bill was on the point
of arising and retracing his course toward the sliding
rocks, but he had not started upright before he crouched
again, this time on the other side of the rock that pro-
jected from the wall.

The Old Man of the Mountain was coming back!

“Tt may be,” thought the scout, “that he has a private
entrance into this hole in the hill—an entrance that ena-

bles him to dodge the perils of the clashing walls. That

will suit me fully as well'as to go out by the way [ came
in. All 1 want i§ to get clear of Ramon and his va-
queros, creep up on their camp by the acequia, and se-
I'll follow
the Old Man of the Mountain and trust to luck.”

With a shuffling tread the wild man came on down the
erooved path, still with eyes peering steadily ahead of
him, He passed the scout’s hiding place and vanished
around the turn.

Softly the scout followed. Once around the angle, he

saw his guide distirictly moving onward and leaving a

trail of acrid smoke behind. ,

Buffalo Bill allowed the glare of the torch to light
his way, and followed just at the edge of the flickering
glare. ae

One false step would have displaced a loose stone and
drawn the attention of the Old Man of the Mountain.

What the result would have been the scout did not dare

to forecast. He made it a point to keep close enough to
the light so that he could pick his steps with caution.

Another turn was rounded, and Buffalo Bill found
himself in sight of the tunnel’s end. Indeed, as he
turned the angle the wild man was pushing his torch

handle into a cranny of the rocky wall. Evidently it was
his intention to linger there for a space.

The scout was disappointed, but in a few moments
disappointment faded into. curiosity. The Old Mant of
the Mountain had moved toward the breast of the tunnel,

and was standing there, his back to the scout, doing

something with his hands. 3

Deeply interested, Buffalo Bill went down on hands
and knees, and, hugging the shadow of the hanging
wall, crept, closer.

Finally he was near enough so that he could see,. and
what he saw made him catch his breath.

There were eight daggers in the tunnel breast, ar-
ranged in two rows of four each. ‘Impaled by each blade
was a scrap of yellow parchment.

The yarn of Ramon, then, was true! There were his
eight daggers and his eight pieces of paper !

While the scout had to concede so much, his credulity
balked at the eight kegs of Panama silver. The idea of
such a treasure was too absurd to have any foundation

an tact,

The wild man was engaged studiously in laying a hand
on the handle of each dagger in turn. He would go
over the daggers in this way, beginning with the left-
hand handle in the upper row, and ending at the last
handle on the right of the row beneath.

He was, to all appearances, absorbed in his strange
labor. But what was the object of it? This was some-

thing the scout could not understand. Perhaps, he rea-
soned, there was no explanation other than that the

mind of the wild man was unbalanced.

BILL STORIES. : | 15

‘This thought lent a new terror to the situation. Be-
ing alone in the mine with a wild man of this one’s
stature and prodigious strength promised peril enough,
but if the wild man was crazy the scout’s perils increased
to an alarming degree. Had he been armed he would
have had less cause for worry. ; fe

The wild man had dropped his stone hammer before
turning toward the breast of the tunnel and the eight
daggers. The scout, in casting up his slight, advan-
tages, figured that possession of that stone hammer
would be something of a help in the event that worst
came to worst. i

He would make an attempt to secure the weapon, al-
though he fully realized the danger of it.

Creeping onward serpentwise, he drew closer and
closer to the rude weapon. Just as he was reaching out
a hand to lay hold of it, the eddying smoke of the torch

blew in his face and almost strangled him,

He tried to stifle a cough, but without effect. “A loud *

a-choo-rumbled through the tunnel’s end, and the wild
man leaped to an about-face with an ear-splitting yell.

The next moment he had rushed upon the hammer,

and grabbed it out from under the scout’s fingers. It
was now ot never with the scout, and he hurled him-
self on the Old Man of the Mountain.

Hardly had he gripped, the hard body of his an-
tagonist before he realized his own puny strength as
compared with the wild man’s. With his left hand the
scout clutched the uplifted arm of the man, while his
right clinched about his hairy throat. ‘

The tussle tried Buffalo Bill to the uttermost, and
for several moments his fate trembled in the balance.

CHAPTER X.

WHERE IS BUFFALO BILL?

Wild Bill, returning toward the Ranch Eight corral

after parting with the king of scouts, was steeped in
disagreeable reflections.

It was not often that the Laramie man allowed his
premonitions to get the better of his nerves. His sobri-
quet of ‘Wild’ Bill had been won through his pro-
pensity for taking long chances in the game with death,
and threatening dangers, either on his own or another’s

account, were usually regarded but lightly.

He could not understand why he had witnessed the
scout’s departure for Bottineau’s with so many qualms.
Nevertheless his nerves were ruffled, and there was no
earthly use in trying to hide the fact. .

Out of-sorts with the course of events, he gloomily
put.up his horse and returned to the hotel. Nomad, the
baron, and Cayuse were awaiting his return in the office.

“Dit you leaf Puffalo Pill to go on mit himseluf?’
inquired the baron. i |

“Of course,’ growled Hickok. “That’s the way he

wanted it, and what he wants he usually gets.”

 

 
 
 

 

 

 

  

 

“vat a taking | vas in!

15 THE BUFFALO

“I'm surprised .at ye,’ rumbled old Nomad; “I am,
fer a fact, Hickok.” :

“Why?” demanded the Laramie man sharply.

“Bekase I thort, when ye pulled out with Buffer, thet
ye had a notion at the back o’ yer head ter trail him
arter he left ye. By doin’ thet ye could hev helped snuff
out any ole figger-eight combine thet heaved itself at
him. But ve didn’t! Sufferin’ painters, Wild Bill, ef I'd
er had any idee ye wasn’t goin’ ter turn thet trick, I'm
blamed ef I wouldn’t hey trailed Buffler myself.”

“I reckon, you wouldn’t, Nick, if he’d talked to you as
he talked to me.”

“Waugh! I wouldn’t hev let thet made no diff’rence.
I'm tellin’ ye, pards, thet somethin’ is goin’ dead wrong
with We, Us, an’ Comp’ny this -hyar trip. Thet’s right.
When fate wads up er lot er figger eights an’ heaves ’em

at us, like she’s doiy’ now, trouble*is shore comin’

‘head on.from all directions,”

The baron’s eyes nearly popped from his yong as he
leaned forward to whisper:

“Dere vas eight puttons on der nighdt clerk’s coat,
und eight blates on der subber table, und eight toot’bicks
in der pox ven I dook vone, und—py shinks, look for
yourseluf—dere iss eight people in der office righdt
now, yah, so helup me!’

This broke the ice for Wild Bill,
baron’s comments, he threw back

Refreshed by the

his head and roared.
“You're

said ‘he,

ce

carrying it fo a mighty fine point, pard,’

Tt don’d vas some laffing
baron.

madders,’ snorted the
“Verefer I look I see dot figger eight. ACH,
I von't be sadisfied mit anyt’ ing
ondil Pufffalo Pill geds pack.”

“Then it won't be long before you're satisfied, baron.
He told me he’d get back inside. of two hours. Keep
your eye -on the clock.”

The baron kept his eye on the clock. So did all the
rest of them, for that matter. The two hours passed,
and Buffalo Bill did not return. Then another hour
passed and found Nomad pacing the office like: a bear
with a sore head. When eleven o’clock boomed from
the steeple of the courthouse, the pards got their heads
together in excited counsel.

“Time’s up by more’n two hours,” muttered Nomad,
pan he ain't hyar.” .

“Somet’ing iss der madder, I bed anyt’ing vat you
like,” declared the baron glumly.

“I’m inclined to think, myself,” said Wild Bil. “that
our pard has butted into something he didn’t expect.”

“What’ll we do, Hickok?” demanded Nomad.

“ll tell’ you what we'll do, and if the scout’s all
right, and only delayed, I don’t think he can find any
fault with the course we take. You would recognize
any of those eight vaqueros if you saw ’em again,
wouldn’t you, Cayuse?”

6.

eames naar enetnateiat ioe aa

 

Pad GS LORLES:

“Wah!” scowled the ‘little Piute.

“Then you go and prowl around the Mexican quarter.
See if you can get sight of any of the vaqueros, and
come back here and report. You don't know Jack
Nolan, the deputy, marshal, do you, Nick?”

“He was p’inted out ter me on ther street, Hickok,’’
returned the old trapper. “I’d savvy him quick enough
ef I clapped eyes onter him.”

AV ell;
you can get a line on Nolan. If you find him, tell him
that Buffalo Bill followed out his suggestion about going
to Bottineau’s and that he hasn’t got back yet. See
what Nolan says. You, baron,” the Laramie man went
on to the Dutchman, “can stroll around town and look
for clues or for figure eights. But come back here be-

you go over to the sheriff's office and see if

99

fore morning, all of you.’

“Vere you going mit yOutsSt Vild -Pill?
the baron.

queried

“I'm for Bottineau’s to find out how long the scout
stayed there.”’

With this’ hastily
the pards separated.

Before midnight the Laramie man had hitched his
horse in front of the Bottineau adobe. Despite the late-
ness of the hour there was a light in one of the Windows,
and Wild Bill’s heart beat high with hope as he pounded
on the door.

A grizzled old man opened the door.

“Howdy,” said he. “What’s ther trouble?” ie

“I'm looking for old man Bottineau,” said Wild Bill

“Nary, amigo, Ye ain't lookin’ for him, butsat him.
Walk in,”

The Laramie man walked into a small, comfortably
furnished room. Bottineau tipped a cat out of a rocking
chair and requested his caller to be seated.

formed plan of campaign in mind,

Wild Bill, after sitting,down, took the old prospector’s
sizing quickly. The weather-beaten: face was honest in
every line—it was the sturdy honesty born of the desert
silence and the thirsty mountains.

“I’m looking for my pard,” said Wild Bill, coming
at once to the point. “Early in the evening he started
to_make a call on you, and he said he wouldn't be gone
more than a couple of hours. He’s been away more
than twice that, and his friends are worried.”

“Who are ye, neighbor, and who's this pafd= ye'te
worked up about ?”

The Laramie man gave him this information.

Bottineau’s face flushed, and a brilliance came into his
dull eyes. He leaned forward with outstretched fn

“Would ye niind shakin’ ?” he asked. fo

Wild Bill didn’t mind, and they shook,

“ve: Meerd 05 ye, tbat 1 hey,” were on omnes i,

“an’ I’d have been plumb tickled with a visit from Cody:
But he ain’t been hyar.”

i ;
naman Lad ape

 

tem niente tnd rte dant ok te pe Sen hil Le

 

 

 

 

as

—

~
ago

eo

  
 

 

   

ep RR TSR ATA AOC SR

=

—

rs

_THE BUFFALO

‘

The old man spoke the truth, and Wild Bill knew it.
As Wild Bill sat back in disappointed silence, Bot-
tineau went on.

“But why fret yerself erbout Cody? If thar’s any
ombray in these parts as knows how ter take keer o’
himself, or is better able, I’d like ye ter trot the feller out
so’st I kin give him a leather medal. Rest easy, amigo;
rest Cay. 2 Q

“There are things about this, Bottineau,” said Wild

Bill, “that you can’t understand, and that I don’t feel at
liberty to explain.”
* returned
“Ye kin say what. ve think best, an’ keep
back what ye think best, but I"rise ter inquire, was
Cody comin’ ter smoke a talk with me about that Eng-
lish gent that faded ?”

HES

oor

“IT ain't of er pryin’ disposition, not any,’
Bottineau.

Phen, when ye find him agin, jest tell him it’s my
son Eph he wants ter see an’ not me. I never talk much
about Clayton-Pierce, kase thar’s them as says I wasn't
above doin’ him ter death for what he had on him. That
fetches my ire» so I lays back an’ watches sich folks
right sassy an’ with a hand close to my guns.”

“Ti bank heavy, Pard Bottineau,” declared Wild Bill,
“that your hands are perfectly clean.
look at an honest man more than twice to know him for

9

whateheas. .

“Which is some gratifyin* ter me, Pard Hickok,” said

Bottineau. Shake ag 1”

And once more the two struck hands.

“While ye’re lookin’ fer Cody,” proceeded the pros-
pector, “ye mout keep an eye out fer Eph. He's daded,
too. Left here at seven o'clock this evenin’ fer town an’
haint come back. I been sittin’ up, waitin’.”’

“I'd like to have seen Eph, pard,” said Wild Bill, ris-
ing, “but I reckon, V’ll.climb back to the hotel and try
some other way to puzzle out this batch of trouble.”

“When ye see Eph,” observed Bottineau, likewise ris-
ing and accompanying his caller to the door, “ask him
fer his the’ry about the English gent. He's framed up
one, but he hangs onter it, an’ won’t open up ter every-
body. But he will ter you, same’s he would ter Cody.
Cody is ace high in this fambly circle. I knowed a few
0’ the ole-timers that got cold lead an’ steel from Santa
Ana at the Alamo, an’ my ole heart goes plumb out
ter lively Westerners like yore pard. Buenas noches!”

“Buenas noches!?

The door closed, and Wild Bill, still more. disheart-
ened, rode back to town.

Where was Buffalo. Bill?
vanishing in this mysterious fashion ?

It was easy to put the mental questions, but to hazard
a logical answer was impossible. he

The scout had vanished, either intentionally or unin-
tentionally. He might have altered his plans through

What reason had he for

L don’t have to «

 

BILE S PORTE S: 17

personal design, on account of some clue or other that
had crossed his path; or, on the other hand, he might
have met with foul play.

So long as the scout had his guns handy, the idea of
foul play was not very seriously considered by Wild
Bill,

He did not go to the corral when he reached town,
but-hitched Beeswax in front of the hotel and walked
into the office. The baron jumped at him the moment
he“was through the door. '

“Dere is a feller here vat vants to shpeak mit you,”
palpitated the baron. “I say dot he can shpeak mit
me, only he don’d like Dutchmen und von't.
Puffalo Pill, I bed you! Come ad vonce! I. peen on
dose tings vat you call dender hooks for all oof haluf
an hour.”

It’s aboudt

The baron led the Laramie man to a youth of twenty,
clean-lintbed, shrewd¥faced, and wearing the rough garb
of a rancher. .

“Ye're Wild Bill’? he demanded, running his eye over
the lithe figure of Hickok.

ery

Phe same,” was the brief response.
“then. come over inte the corner. I cot news fer ye,
anim date-in gittin® rid-of V7 :
They moved toward a corner, the baron pushing along
behind.

CHAPITEK: XL:
HOT NEWS.

“I don’t mix with the Dutch,” scowled the youth,
turning a hostile eye on the baron.

“Vell,” snorted the baron, “Ud mix mit you for doo
cends. J don’d like your line oof talk aboudt der Dutch,
und dot’s right.”

“Sidetrack. the Dutchman,” muttered the youth, “or I
quit ye cold, Wild Bill. A Dutchman stole a mine on
my dad oncet, an’ we ain’t never forgot it.”

“But you can’t judge all Dutchmen by what one of
them did,” demurred Wild Bill,

ec

an’ so does dad. Make him
@ ey Z 4
scatter, or I’ll do some scatterin’ myself, here an’ now.”

“I do,” was the reply,
“Go over to the other side of the room, baron,” said
Wild Bill, eager to do anything “for the strange youth
that would develop his news. —

The baron muttered and shook his fist at the youth.
But he went to the other side of the office and sat down.

“Now, then,” said Wild Bill, “who are you, amigo, and
what have you got to tell me?”

“Tm Eph Bottineau : é

“Ah!” “The Laramie man was ‘electrified.
you have news of Buffalo Bill, Eph?”

“T have, an’ it’s hot news,.at that.”

 

“You say

A

 
 

18 THE BUPE ALO
“J just came from your father’s ’dobe and he says
you faded from there about seven o’clock and haven’t
been seen since.”
_. A’slow grin worked its way over Eph’s face.
“Dad’s jest in from a prospectin’ trip, an’ his failin’
fer seven-up started me fer town right arter supper to
git two decks 0’ playin’ keerds. The minit dad gits home
he’s got to play. I reckon he’s some mad bekase I ain’t
back an’ givin’ him a set-to. But——”
“Never mind that now, Eph,” cut in Wild Bill.
have the news about our pard.”
“No hurry,” demurred Eph.
daylight, anyways.”
“Why Bee
‘“Phats a: tact: lmia-comin' to. As 1 say, | stanted
- for town close onter seven, told by dad ter git two decks
0’ keerds. We had an old deck, at the house, but that
Tige purp chewed ‘em up, an’ dad was some miffed when
he found the seven-up deck plumb in pieces. He told me
ter hurry when I left, an’ I did hurry, but I was hung up
a spell in town, I had jest. turned inter the Black Canon
trail, on the way home, when a stranger come at
full tilt.
‘Say you, says the stranger, ‘I need help. Are. ye
willin’ ter do a good turn fer Buffler Bill?’
“Fd. do. anythin) fer Buffler Bill,” T.says.° “ft amt
never seen him, but he’s talked about a good deal in our
house,’ I says,

 

cs) 3
*Let’s

“Ve can’t do nothin’ till

me,

“ ‘Well, goes on the stranger, ‘you, ride with me an’
Pll tell ye what's in the wind’ ,

“I rode with him, north along the trail, gallopin’
mostly, an’ all the time hearin’ a sound o’ gallopin’ dim-
like ahead o’ us.

“ ‘Hear them hoofbeats?’ says the stranger.

* “Not bein’ deef, I says, ‘I can’t help a-hearin’ ’em.’

“*Waal,’ goes on the man, ‘there’s eight egreasers in
the bunch an’ they've gobbled Buffler Bill. They’ve got
‘him roped ter his hoss, an’ gagged, an’ they’re. takin’
him off to what’s called the old Turquoise Mine.’ ”

Wild Bill gave an excited exclamation.

“Who was the stranger?” he demanded,
you his name, Eph?”

“He did. The name was Jack Nolan, déperty United
States marshal.”

“Ah! What else did*Nolan tell you?”

“He told me that the eight greasers would travel by

“night an’ rest by day, an’ that it ’u’d take ’em two nights
ter reach where they was goin’. Nolan said that he'd
been shadderin’ the gang, an’ had follered ’em out o’
Phoenix ter a place on the trail, but he never knowed
they was layin’ fer Buffler Bill till the scout was ketched.

“TH keep: tight arter em,’ Nolan says: further, ‘an’ I
want ye ter go back ter Phoenix,’ he says, ‘find the
hotel where the scout’an’ his pards are stoppin’, an’ tell
what I’m tellin’ you ter’ Wild Bill.

“Did he tell

Likewise,’ he goes

@

 

wy

BILE STORIES.

* i

on, ‘inform Wild Bill that T'll hang ter these here ereas-

ers like a coyote ter the trail of a wounded buffler, but
that I can’t do a thing fer the scout without help.’ Them’s
his words.”

“How are we going to know which way the greasers
went?’ demanded Wild Bill. “Nolan may savvy the
trail, but we don’t.”

“Ye kin foller, easy enough.”

ow 27 eese)

' “Well, bekase I give Nolan them two packs o’ keerds
an’ he’s leakin’ ’em all along the road.. That’s why ye
cant run out the trail afore daylight, savvy? Yell
heed good light ter spot them keerds; if ye hevn’t got
good light, then yell git off the trail an’ like as not
lose more time than ye’d gain by diggin’ right out. I
went with Nolan so fur, us gallopin’ all the time an’ him
explainin’, that I only jest got back.”

“Where did you leave Nolan, Eph?”

“Well, ye go out Black Cafion trail past the canal,
then ye take the fust turn ter the right inter Cave Creek
Road, then foller Cave Creek Road till ye see the fust
ckeerd. Arter that I dunno where yell go. I reckon
that/lkbe all, an’ I'll sit back teridad. . Hell be rarin’,
but I kin comb him down when I tell him what I been
doin’. fer the scout.”

Eph started to rise, but Wild Bill caught his arm.

“Just a minute, Eph,” “What's
your theory about the disajipearance of Clayton-Pierce?

said the |Laramie man.

Your father said you'd tell me if I'd ask.”

Eph resumed his chair and nibbled at the corner of a
fresh plug of tobacco. For a few moments he rolled
the tobacco under his tongue and glared across the room
at the baron. .

“Never did hev no use fer Dutchmen,” he muttered.

“Tell me your theory,” persisted Wild Bill.

“T ain't springin’ it on ever’body, ye understand,” said
Eph, with deliberation. “If I’m tellin’ you, it’s bekase
ye're a pard o' Buffler Bill's... Dad thinks there ain't
many like Buffler Bill left. He’s an ole-timer, but he’s
all right, at that. As fer the Englishman, well, “he
stopped at our. place. He brought a bath tub, three
hair brushes, an’ more kinks fer makin’ hisself look
pretty than you'd believe possible. He didn’t say what
he wanted, but he had an ole map. I found it on the
table, once, an’ there was this writ on the top @ it:
“The Route ter the old Turquoise Mine.’

“He studied that map a heap, the Englishman did.
When he wasn’t takin’ a bath, or combin’ his hair; or
eatin’, or sleepin’, he had his eyes on that map,: Finally,
one night, he went off on my hoss. He took the map
along, I expect, kase I never could find it; likewise the
hair brushes. But he had ter leave the bath tub. Like-
wise, he'left two hundred dollars in gold on the table in
his room, along with a line sayin’ the money was. fer
pay his bill. ‘

 

 
 

ew
‘¢

Se re

Si OE 25 ac VET DE EO LETRA HAS MEAT AL ge IME age SIS we UH ee ae

Sie DUPE ALO. BILLY STORIES. | 19

“Now, them’s the facts. My the’ry is this heré, Clay-

ton-Pierce had some fool notion up his sleeve regardin’.
that there ole turquoise mine.

He went off ter a Le,
an’ the result was that he got lost, died fer want o’ water,
an’ that that’s the end o’ one fool Englishman. Any-
thin’ else I kin tell. wer

No,” answered Wild Bill, a4 I’m mightily obliged
for what news you've given me.’ :

He drew a handful of gold from his pocket, but Eph
jumped back from it so quick he almost overturned his
chair?

“What d’ye take me fer?” he muttered.

“Eph,” said Wild Bill hastily, “I’m not the man to
insult a whole-souled fellow like you, but I feel as though
I ought to pay you for those playing cards.” —

“Well, that’s right, as fur as it goes,” answered Eph,
“but eight bits’ll pay fer the keerds, an’ ye’ve got all of
a hundred dollars in yer fist.’’ \

Wild Bill gave him the eight bits, shook hands with
him, and he started for the door.
truculently.

“Some insulds like.vat you gif me,’ snorted the baron,
“don'd go down ad all. Dot’s vat I'say. I peen a Dutch-
man, but I vas der Paron Villum von Schnitzenhauser,
yah, so. Oof you vant some droubles :

“Ah, cut it out!” sneered Eph, slamming the door.

The baron would have run after him if Wild Bill had
not grabbed him by the collar.

“That will do, baron,” said Wild Bill. “That fellow
is Eph Bottineau, and he has just brought some hot
news about the scout.” ee

 

“How hot iss id ven you don’d vas doing nodding ?”
countered the baron.

returned
‘“Meanw yhile, we’ve got to have Nomad and

“We can't do much until daylight, baron,”
Wild Bill.
Cayuse.
atten tre other, lf!

Just at that moment the old trapper and the little

Piute boy, looking very much cast down, came into the
office together.

“Nothin? doin’,” declared Old Nomad. “They hevn’t
seen Nolan at ther sheriff’s office, aw’ I kain’t find him
anywhar’s eround town. Cayuse ain't had no better luck,
nuther. [ met up with him an’ told him ter come bone
back ter ther hotel — Mie.”

No see um greasers,” grunted oe

“It’s no wonder neither of you had’Aany success, pards,”
said Wild Bill calmly. “The greasers have captured
Buffalo Bill and have taken him by force to the old tur-
quoise mine. Nolan was shadowing the vaqueros, and
he sent word back to me by Eph Bottineau. Nolan,
following the vaqueros closely, is leaving a playing-card
trail for us to follow, and we're to ride with the first
light to-morrow morning.”

 

trapper, and the little Piute.

The baron got up

‘You go looking for one of them, and [’ll go-

ONE LS NT Re eT aN tee NTI et Igy

&

This news was like a bombshell for the baron, the
They all wanted to start
forthwith, and Wild Bill restrained them with difficulty.
In spite of his reasoning, however, Nomad, Cayuse, and
the baron insisted on getting out.to the beginning of
the playing-card trail in the tag-end of the night, and
so the pards started some little time before dawn.

ae
PCORART ER XI).
THE PARDS AND TIE CARDS,

It was unfortunate for Buffalo Bill’s Dae that the
wind rose with the sun that morning. ‘The trail left by
Jack Nolan was, for the most part, scattered all over
that section of Arizona. Before the wind menaced the
trail, however, the pards had picked it up and had fol-
lowed it far into the desert.

When the breeze freshened, and playing cards began
dancing over the sand, Old Nomad drew Hide-rack to a
halt and said things that made the air considerably
warmer in his immediate vicinity. The baron, mounted
on his beloved mule, Toofer, chased one lone jack of
clubs for half a mile and, when he finally overhauled. sit,
ripped the inoffensive card in a dozen pieces.

“Dot's der vay I feel mit meinseluf,”
Wild Bill.
laid for us, der vint has to plow oop like Sam Hill schust
to make us drouples! I peen so madt as some vet hens.”

“You can’t help matters by going off the jump, pards,”
said Wild Bill soothingly. ‘When we reach rougher
country we will find that the cards will lay better. Here
on the open desert the wind has every chance at them.”

he explained to

“Tm figgerin’ on them possibilities myself, Hiekok,”
said Nomad, “but here’s what makes me b’ile. While
we're losin’ time on account 0’ the pizen wind playin’
hob with the kyards, what’s the delay goin’ ter mean ter
Buller? Tell me thet:

“So far, Nick, I don’t believe the delay will hurt much,
one. way or the other.
Eph Bottineau, the greasers will travel only by night,
thus avoiding the heat of the day. We’ll push on through
the heat. At this moment the vaqueros are laying by
somewhere with our pard, and every forward move we
make is so much of a gain.”

“Thet’s right, too,” assented the trapper, “only we got
ter gain a hull lot ter make up i what we a at night,
when the kvards kain’t be seen.’

“Vere iss Cayuse °” queried the baron.

The little Piute, on his pinto, Navi, was a mere speck |

on the skyline. |
“There’s a lesson for vou two soreheads,”. said Wild
Bill, pointing. “Isittle Cayuse is saying nothing but all

the time sawing wood. This desert, while making it

Sst et tertanctir ith Het receipe reat nett nergy eit ten terete ttl

ree ne Te = Soe eT ha ey AO SRNR Tee Dee PE aa RIC
TM deakiecer Sac RDA iene aoe a aR I er ese denna ome AS A

“Ven so fine a ting as dot baper drail iss:

According to what Nolan told

3 : ail
1 ca MPMI N E eL pra rere ay eprowrey songs yey die oof
a" is eet Ce aaa a

 

y
 

prt cen ancien MME A NL ey en cs an. Ba preter

easy for the wind to disperse the cards, is also a very
good place for trailing in the Indian fashion. Cayuse is
following. the hoofprints and paying no attention to the
cards, That’s a good cue for us to follow. Spurs and
quirts, compadres!”

The rowels rattled as the horses were goaded into
swifter pace. Wild Bill, Nomad, and the baron were
some titne in overhauling the Piute boy, for his Indian
wit was helping him run out the trail at a slow gallop.
He was at the edge of the rough country when the
other three came up with him.

“Trail heap easy ‘cross desert,’ said Cayuse. “‘Find

um harder from here. _Mebbyso we better look for
earns, chr’
“That's right, boy,” returned Wild Bill, “we'll keep
our eye out for cards. Ah,’ he added, pointing up the
slope to the place where a bit of white had lodged against
a cholla cactus, s one, or a part of one. The trail
is to be long.”

“How d’ye figger thet?” demanded the old trapper.

“Because Nolan is tearing the cards in two. He’s
afraid the two decks won’t last if he drops a whole card
each “time.”

‘there’

The hard traveling now began in earnest, but, as Wild
Bill had already told Nomad, the cards were lying better
and were caught and held in crevices of the rocks, or in
the brush. In one place, in fact, they found an ace of
hearts stuck to the spines of a big sahuara cactus. The
wind could not have placed the card in that fashion—it
must have been done by Nolan.

When the sun was in mid-heaven the heat was ter-
rific. The horses panted and traveled with their heads
down, dumbly pleading for water. The pards fell back
frequently upon their water canteens which they had
wisely brought with them from Phoenix.

The pards, in spite of the distress of their cattle, re-
lentlessly pushed onward. To do them full credit, they
thought as little of their own comfort as they did of
that of their horses.

Their perseverance had its reward for, just at sun-
down, they reached the adobe cabin by the spring.
they known it, they were only a short distance behind
the vaqueros and Buffalo Bill. But, even if they had
been advised of the proximity of the Mexicans, it is
doubtful whether they could have profited by it. Their
mounts were in the last stages of exhaustion, and the
heat had so afflicted the baron’s head that he had been
talking queerly for several niiles. Rest and food were
what they needed.

They reconnoitered the cabin, found it deserted, then
tottered around caring for their live stock. After that
they cared for themselves. Enough was found in the
adobe house to supply their every want. Following sup-
per, the pards sat in the darkness, taking counsel of each
other.

 

 

THE BUFFALO

Fad.

 

BILE ShORIES. | "

“From what I kin make out, pards,” observed Old
Nomad, “this hyar is ther gang’s roost. The vaqueros
must hey hung out hyar during the better part o’ ther
day.”

“T suppose that’s the size of it,’ agreed Wild Bill,

“Anodder night,” chimed. in the baron, “und dey vill
be vere dey vas going.” —;

“Tf them tinhorns git ter the ole turquoise mine ter-
morrer forenoon, nothin’ kin bring us up with ’em afore
they send Buffler inter them muy malo workin’s.”

This from Nomad, in a disconsolate voice.

“When we begin our next march,” said Wild Bill,
“well have to push on and cover more ground than we
did to-day.”

The baron groaned,

“ebdpe, “dot it von’t be so hot like it
vas to-day. Oof it iss, I bed you someding for nodding
‘T vill oxpire on der road. Py shinks, vot a feelihg it iss
ven vone geds a touch oof der sun! He sees dem mir-
aches eferyvere—leedle shdreams oof ice vater, mit pig
oak drees like vat dere iss oop in der Crow gotndry,
making greadt pige punches oof shade. Ach, py chimin-
eddy, to see dose tings ven you vas all purning oop iss
some dordures!”

* he murmured,

“If you don’t think youscan stand the rest of the trip,
baron,” said Wild Bill, “maybe you had better stay here
until :

 

The baron gave.a yell of protest.

“Nefer!” he whooped. “I vill go mit you fellers und
resgue Puffalo Pill oof it’s der lasdt ting vat I efer do.
Yah, soy"

They slept well that night. Although no one stood
guard, yet every one in the party Slumbered w vith one
eye open. It was still dark when Wild Bill aroused them.

“Something to eat first, pards,” said he, “and then we
will hit the high places. It will be light enough when
we are through with our breakfast.”

“T féckon thar won’t be nothin’ but high ‘places on
this part o’ ther trail fer us ter hit,” commented Nomad.

The baron was very much refreshed and declared that
he was feeling like his old self, and ready for anything.

He prepared the breakfast. When it was over with,
some cold rations were put into their warbags, and the
trailing was continued.

The horses’ were in-as fine fettle as their riders, and
took the hard trail with a springy ease that delighted
the pards. fe. '

The cards were easily found, as these last had been
dropped since the wind of the preceding day.

Cayuse took the lead, Wild Bill followed him, Nomad
came third, and the baron last. The little Piute’s eyes
were sharper than any others in the party, and this fact
won him his place in the van.

About ten o'clock they halted for a brief rest. It

 

 
 

 

THE BUFFALO

was a dry camp, and the horses were as eager to be gone
from it as were their riders.

“I can tell you this, pards,” said Wild Bill, turning
in his saddle after the journey was resumed, “and that
is that the greasers didn’t make much time getting over
this trail at night. Even hampered with the cards as

we are, I'll gamble that we're making two miles to their’

“one

“They’re at ther ole mine, by now,” answered Nomad.
“We ain't out-travelin’ them; we’re jest gittin’ ter whar
Hoey air in a shorter time than what they made in kiy-
erin’ the ground.”

“That’s what I mean, Nick.”

“An’ the greasers’ll hev plenty o’ time, afore we come
up with ’em, ter drive Pard Buffler inter thet muy malo
hole in ther ground. Waugh! Id er give ten y’ars 0’
my life ef we could er reached thar sooner,”

“Better late than never, Nick,”

“IT dunno erbout thet.’’

The pards were no more than an hour from their dry
camp when they turned the angle of an arroyo and found
themselves face to face with Jack Nolan.

“Whoop!” shouted Wild Bill, “Here’s
marshal, pards!’’

All four of the pards spurred at him in a rush and
quickly surrounded him. He looked haggard and worn
out.

“What’s the Boo8 word?” asked Wild Bill.

“I haven’t any,” answered Nolan dejectedly,

A pall fell over the spirits of the pards.

“What d’ye mean by thet?” snarled Nomad.

“Have you got any chuck? If you have, give me a
hand out. I-haven’t had a mouthful to eat since I left
Phoenix.”

The baron drew on his private warbag and handed
the deputy a chunk of jerked beef and half a loat of
bread. Nolan fell on it greedily.

“Td like to have you explain what you mean by say-
ing you haven’t\ any good word to give us,” said Wild
3ill, his voice low but tense, and a dangerous glimmer
rising in his eyes.

“T’ve followed that gang every step of the way from
Phoenix,” answered Nolan, between mouthfuls, ‘and hid
out when they camped last night, and again when they
rounded up at the old mine. I haven’t let them out of
my sight or hearing for a minute. J——”

Z
5

the deputy

37

“Snarlin’ catermounts,” cut in Nomad, “tell us erbout
Buffler !”’

“I watched thé vaqueros drive him into the mine at
the points of their guns,’ said Nolan wearily. ‘That
was three hours ago—and he hasn’t come out!”

“You think, then, that he was wiped out in the old

workings,” asked Wild Bill, ‘just as those eight old-

time Mexicans were wiped out?”
In the tragic silence that followed, Little Cayuse

 

BILE: STORMS: 21

reached into his medicine bag for war paint. As he
streaked his face with red and yellow, he fell to croon-
ing a Piute war song.

“There’s our answer to all that, pards,” said Wild
Bill huskily, pointing to the boy. “The war trail and
revenge are on his mind. It’s for“us to think about,
too,”’

CHAPTER. XIII,
A SKIRMISH,

“You're right, Wild Bill,” said’ Nolan, “even though
the worst has happened to brave Cody, we can play

square with the outlaws who sent him by the One- -way

reat

“Where are they?” demanded Hickok.

Turning in his saddle, the deputy marshal pointed over
the bank of the arroyo at the side of a mountain,

“The side of that mountain is steep,” said he, “and
the tunnel of the old mine opens into it almost opposite
the place where we're standing.”

“Let’s not waste any time dancin’ the medicine,”
growled the trapper, between his teeth, “but git right
down ter bizness. I ain't give Buffler up yit,-not be a
long shot, but we'll hev ter take keer 0’ ther greasers
afore we kin do any huntin’ fer him. Ride, pards!”

“Wait!” called Nolan. “Don’t be in a rush, Nomad.
The greasers will be there when we want them, and if
we don’t play this fine every man jack of them will give
us the slip. There’s an old aceguia around a spur, and
the horses of the lot are there, handy for them in making
a get-away, Let’s plan this a little,’

“And, before we begin to plan, Nolan,” suggested
Wild Bill, “just tell us how the scout was captured.
What was he doing with his guns while the fight
was on?” |

“His guns had been tampered with, and he couldn’t
fire a shot,” answered Nolan.

“Who tampered with ’em?” blazed Nomad.

“Ramon, the leader of the vaqueros. He climbed a
ladder, overheard the scout’and me during our talk at
the hotel, and was thus able to lay his plans for inter-
cepting Cody on his way to Bottineau’s. When we left

the room, Wild Bill, Ramon climbed into it and fixed

the guns.”
“How do you know that?” queried the Laramie man,
fixing a keen gaze on the deputy.

“I was close enough to the scoundrels, at the time of
the attack, to overhear something of what was said. If
I hadn’t overheard, how fod I have sent the report by
young Bottineau that I did?’

“Why didn’t ye jump in an’ help Buffler win " up ther
gang when they jumped him?” asked the trapper.

e If you’d think twice about that, Nomad,’ was the

 
 
  
   
     
   
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
  

 

 

 

 
 

   

Cote an Sk Daa

i See se aes

&

PAR pA anata Inte yarns cae ooulo enn wenr eer ah ORS ag ine sane are ie ORE SE

j
/

     

oe : THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

quiet reply, “you wouldn't ask sucha question. Suppose
I had been shot and killed? Those greasers wouldn't
have been so careful with me as they were with the
scout! If anything like that had happened to me, there
would have been no one to trail the vaqueros, no one to
send word to you.™

“You acted like a wise man, and.a brave one!” averred
Wild Bill. “Now let’s lay our wires for the’ attack.

- What have you to suggest—anything ?”

“I’d suggest that two of us ride straight for the
vaqueros’ Horses,” answered Nolan, ‘“‘and that the rest
charge the greasers over the top of the arroyo.”

“Good enough® Let’s be at it.”

Before the pards could busy themselves with their
surprise, another little surprise occurred that played
havoc with their arrangements. }

One of the vaqueros—why, the pards could not guess
—strolled up the other side’ of the arroyo bank and
emerged head and shoulders above the crest. He caught
sight of the men below, stared an instant, and then gave
a wild yell of “Americanos!”

Two revolvers cracked at the samie moment—one in
Nomad’s hand, and the other in Wild Bill's. The Mex-
ican reeled backward out of sight.

“Cayuse,” roared Wild Bill, “go with Nolan to take
care of the greaser-horses! Nomad and the baron, come
with me!”

With that, the Laramie man set his horse at the ar-
royo bank and dug in with the irons. Beeswax, squieal-
ing a protest at the sharp urging, scrambled up fhe sandy
slope. A horse’s length behind came Nomad and the
baron. ;

Yells and cries came from the other side of the ridge,

but what the vaqueros were doing the pards could only

suess, They guessed that they were running away, and
two minutes later, when they topped the ridge, they
found that they had’ guessed right.

In front of them, perhaps an eighth of a mile distant,
loomed the steep mountain side with its tunnel en-
trance. The vaqueros were flocking around a spur, and
the man who had appeared at the top of the ridge was
on his way to join them. Although one of his arms was
helpless, his legs were in good order and he was making
the most of them. | :

Seven vaqueros flickered around the spur as the Lara-
mie man, the trapper, and the baron were riding down
the slope.. The eighth Mexican—the one who had been
wounded—was more than halfway to the point of the
ridge.

Nolan and Cayuse, intent on reaching the horses be-
fore the Mexicans, had ridden past the wounded vaquero
at full tilt.

“Catch that man, bare!’ ordered Wild: Bul. “Nick
and I will ride afound the spur and see if we can’t help
Nolan and Cayuse get the greasers in a corner.” ey

By one of those chances, which now and then play
havoc with human calculations, all the Mexicans es-
caped. But there were a few skirmishes.

The vaqueros reached their horses and swung into the
saddles, for it appeared that riding gear had been leit

‘on the mounts. Nolan and Cayuse were close enough to

exchange shots with them, to wound one slightly and
Nolan to have his right wrist nicked in return. Six of
the vaqueros went slashing into the distance, followed
by the deputy marshal, the Piute boy, Wild Bill, and
the enraged old trapper. The seventh vaquero, with a
led horse, evaded the pursuers and dashed toward his
wounded comrade. | a

That dash for the winged Mexican was a race between
the. baron and the Mexican with the led horse. The
baron would have won, having far and. away the better
start, had lootfer, his mule, not acted contrary. .

Toofer was consumed with thirst, and the smell of
water in the aceguia had reached his nostrils. -In spite
of the baron’s wild efforts to keep the thule on the right
course, the mule insisted.on going for the acequia.

The baron roared, and bellowed, and shouted himself
hoarse. Furthermore, he dug Toofer in the sides so
relentlessly with the spurs that Toofer, by way of show-
ing his resentment, hoisted the baron over his head, and
galloped’ for the water unhampered.

The baron got up just in time to hear a bullet whistle
past. his ear. Jerking a revolver from his belt, he
whirled. The Mexican was covering his comrade’s
mounting, having brought the led horse to that place for
the wounded man’s relief. _

The baron pulled the trigger and the Mexican’s hat
flew off.

“Look oudt for der nexdt vone, you dinhorn!” shouted

the baron. ;

But the “next one’ was from the Mexican, and cut a
hole through the baron’s left sleeve.

Then the baron had his turn, and clipped a lock of
hair from the mane of the Mexican’s horse.

This was awful—for the baron. But he had no op-
portunity to redeem himself. An exchange of two shots
had allowed the wounded man time to gain the saddle.
They paused no longer but rushed at top speed into
the hills.

The baron hurried to Toofer. Fetlock deep in the
water, Toofer was more than enjoying himself. It was
all of three minutes before the baron could get the mule
away from the acequia, and by that time any pursuit
would have been a waste of time.

“For a plugged nickel, you olt long-eared goot-for-
nodding,’ stormed the baron, slapping the mule’s neck,
“T vould put some pulleds indo you! Vat you tink oof
yourseluf, hey? Schust look, vonce, vat you made me
do! I peen so covered mit tisgrace dot I feel like I bust

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
   

Hi BUFEALO

in bieces—und all on aggount oof you.

I. vouldn’t mindt
id so mooch, oof I hatn’t pragged on you like vat I dit!
No more praggings, I bed you.
mit me, und mit yourseluf, like vat ve can’t nefer ged
ofer !”

You haf a tisgrace made

While the baron was still fesdine fault with Toofer,
Nolan, Cayuse, Wild Bill, and Nomad came angrily back
from their pursuit.

“Where's the man I told you to capture, baron?” cried
Wud Bill.

“Vere iss der fellers you vent to gapture?” parried

the baron.

“They got away from us.”

“Und dot’s vat dot odder feller dit py me. Anodder
greaser heluped him oudt, py shinks! Vat a tough luck
it iss! I vat retty to faint fits on der shpot, schust on
ageount oof it.”

“Well,” said Wild Bill, “let it pass. We have some-
thing of more importance to think about, anyway. We've
got to hunt for Pard Cody.”

Resenting the ill fortune that had attended them,
during the skirmish, the pards rode go the mouth of the
tunnel and dismounted. A canvas bag was lying near
the tunnel entrance, left there, no doubt, by the fleeing
vaqueros. Wild Bill examined it and found it-to con-
tain, among other things a supply of candles and sulphur
matches.

“Tl explore this old mine,”
see if I can find our pard.”

tm gomr spoke up Nomad.
candle.”

“Und me,” bawled the baron. “TI peen going along!”

“You can’t all go,” said Wild Bill. “Enough of you
ought to remain outside to make it interesting for the
vaqueros, if they come back. The mine is said to be
muy malo, Nick, but if you’ve the nerve to go with me,
come along. Cayuse, the baron, and Nolan can take care
of the Mexicans if they show up.”

announced Wild Bill, “and

with ye!” “Gime a

“What do I keer about ther mine’ bein’ muy malo?”
cried the trapper. “‘I’d go through er rigiment o’ whis-
kizoos ter help Buffler.”

“luet's start, then.”

The Laramie man and the trapper vanished into the
tunnel, ‘From the entrance the other three saw them
lighting their candles, and then saw. the lights suddenly
die out in the darkness,

CHAPTER AALV.
OUTvoOn THA MINE:

A very small thing, sometimes, will turn the scales

of fate. Such a thing happened during Buffalo Bill’s
struggle with the wild man, in the end of the lower
tunnel, °

   

 

BILL SPORTS.

23

 

Just at the moment when the scout felt that he was to
be crushed by sheer brute force, he succeeded in twist-
ing one knee about the wild man’s lege. By a swift
jerk of the knee he tripped his antagonist and sent him
sprawling backward.

The wild man seemed to be all springs and whale.
bone. He endeavored, by a series of contortions, to save
himself from a fall; but he could not regain his balance,
and dropped sprawling on his back. With a push of
his hands Buffalo Bill helped him, so that the weight of
the fall was terrific. oe .

The stone hammer dropped to the floor of the tunnel.
With the quickness of a cat, the scout seized it, then
stood over the huge fellow with the weapon poised.

To his astonishment the man did not move, but lay
where he had fallen, breathing stertorously. His. eyes
were closed, and his half-exposed breast rose and fell. in
its labored fight for air.

“Is he playing a dodge on me?” muttered the scout,
hardly able to believe his eyes.

Sinking warily down on one knee, the scout put his
groping fingers under the man’s head. Thereupon the
cause of his condition was revealed. A pointed stone, in
the tunnel’s floor, had struck the wild man in the back
of the head, causing unconsciousness.

“A good thing for me it happened,” said Buffalo Bill,
half aloud. “I’ve been at hand-grips with a good many
strong men, but I never wrestled with a chap of his
power before. Here’s my chance to look at the dag-
gers.”

Stepping to the breast of the tunnel, he looked at the
two rows of dirks. Their blades were rusty, but: their
hilts had been worn to a dull brightness by the hands of
the wild man. ‘

On the parchment scraps impaled, by the knives there
was some writing, apparently in Spanish, but it was so
blurred and faded as hardly to be legible. Nevertheless,
the scout wrenched away the daggers and gathered up
the paper scraps, shuffling them together and tucking
them away in his pocket.

His next move, as he had planned it, was to make the
wild man secure in some manner. Rope there was none,
but the scout thought of removing the rawhide belt,
cutting it in two strips and using the strips for bonds.

He had taken but one step toward the man on the floor
when he leaped erect, seized the torch from the wall, and
fled back along the tunnel as though the fiends were after
him.

Buffalo Bill,
pursuit.

casting the stone hammer aside, gave

Considering his huge bulk, the wild man was won-
drously fleet. Just around the first turn of the’ tunnel,
the scout saw the fleeing man plunge into the appar-
ently solid wall.
  

 

 

  

       
     
 

   
 

        

   

THE? BUEEALO

Amazed at such an abrupt disappearance, Buffalo Bill
hurried to the wall and saw a crack of light. What
seemed to be a niche in the hanging wall of the tuhnel
was really the entrance to a smaller passage, perhaps an
airshaft.

Feeling sure that the wild man was on his way out of
the mine, and was using a secret passage which would
avoid the sliding walls, Buffalo Bill plunged after him.

The narrow corridor had,a steep upward pitch, and
from well up the ascent he could see the wild man flour-
ishing 'the%orch and climbing. The scout climbed after

him, his boots slipping on the smooth rocks of the slope

and making a rapid pace impossible.

Steadily the wild man gained, the glow of his torch
becoming fainter and fainter in the regions above.

The scout, in truth, had no desire to overtake the
fleeing man. His main object in. following was to be
guided through the maze until he should regain the outer
air and thus be able to escape the vaqueros.

In a few minutes the glow of the torch died out, and
Buffalo Bill was left to struggle upward in the dark.
He had left his.candle in the end of. the tunnel, and as
he had exhausted his matches the last time he had re-
lighted the candle, he had no means for striking a light
and using his eyes.

Unable to use his eyes, he made the best possible ‘use
of his hands, laboring up and up the slippery ascent
until it seemed to him as though he had climbed several
miles toward the crest of the mountain.

At last, by the lessened exertions demanded of him,

and by the feel of the rocks under his feet, he knew he ©

had reached a level. A dozenscautious steps along the
level brought a far-off ray of sunlight into his view. A
cry of joy escaped his lips, and@e-ran forward, Here
was freedom, freedom at last!

Panting and sweating, he staggered to a ragged,
V-shaped opening, passed through it, and found him-
self on a small, earthen platform, halfway up the moun-
tain side. But it was not the side of the mountain that
faced the Mexicans. The scout, looking down, saw that
he was over the spur, and that the acequia, with its
bushes and gnarled trees, was under his lowered gaze.

Sitting down at the edge of the shelf, he identified

- the tree under which he had lain down, with his head on

his saddle, to get a little sleep before being sent into the
old mine. He saw, also, where the horses had been
tethered. But there was only one horse there now, and
that horse was Bear Paw!

He drew a hand across his dazed eyes. Where were
the other horses? he asked himself. Had the Mexicans,
for some reason or other, taken flight? Or were they
still lingering at the mouth of the tunnel waiting for

him. to come with the eight scraps of parchment?

BILE

       
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
    
   
   
    
  
  

S LORIE:

However that might be, the scout could not guess. He
realized that a good chance offered for securing Bear
Paw and making a get-away in the direction of Phoenix.

_He was glad, in that moment, that he had defeated
the vaqueros at their own game. ‘They had sent him into
the deadly mine to rake their chestnuts from the fire.
He had secured the chestnuts, but, if fortune favored,
he would take them away with him, and Ramon and his
vaquerog would never get a look at them:

That, the scout thought, was exactly the sort of jus-
tice the Mexicans were entitled to.

Carefully Buffalo Bill searched the mountain side, and
all the country that lay within -his range of vision below,
for some sign of the wild man. The strapping bulk of
the huge fellow would have loomed large, if at all, and
the scout could not see the man anywhere.

“He’s got away,” thought Buffalo Bill ,“and ’nrnot
so sorry as I might be. What scared him, I wonder?
He must have got the notion, somehow, that I’m a
harder man to handle than he thought at first. Lucky
thing he was in too big a hurry to notice Bear Paw.
Now for the acequia!”

There was a faintly marked path leading downward
from the shelf. It was steep, but not so steep as to be
particularly dangerous, The scgut, watching every mo-
ment for some of the vaqueros 6 appear, made his way
down the slope. Five minutes’ work brought him to the
foot of it, and he prepared for a dash to the edge of the
acequia.

Even though he was-seen in making the dash, he knew
he could get Bear-Paw loose and climb on his back
before the vaqueros could overtake him.

If the Mexicans were all at the mouth of the tunnel,
however, there was not the least danger of his being
seen. The spur ran out so far from the mountain wall
that it interposed a perfect screen between the acequia
and the mouth of the tunnel. -

Swiftly Buffalo Bill hurried across the strip of level
ground separating him from the mesquite bushes. Not

-a sound came from the other side of the spur.

Congratulating himself that luck had at last taken a
turn in his favor, he picked up his saddle and stepped
to Bear Paw. 5 :

The horse, recognizing his master, laid back his ears

and_whinnied. Dropping the saddle and bridle, the scout
caught the horse’s muzzle between his hands.
“We're in
danger, Bear Paw, and have got to do something we're
not quite used to, and that’s make a run for our liberty.
Steady, now.” ue

The scout removed his hands and Bear Paw became
quiet.

“None of that, old boy!” he murmured.

Saddle blanket. and saddle were quickly put in

place, and the girths drawn tight. The tether rope was
- \

  

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

   

THE BUFFALO

cast off and left where it had fallen. The bridle was
then adjusted and the scout vaulted into the saddle.

Then, ready for flight, he paused thoughtfully.

The absence of the vaqueros’ horses puzzled ‘him.
Where had the vaqueros gone? If they were still in
front of the tunnel opening, why had they come for their
mounts? And, if they had been frightened away, why
_had they not taken Bear Paw with them? ;

“There’s only one way to settle the question, Bear
Paw, said the scout, “and that’s to-investigate. I'll lay
Sy 5

every cent I’m worth that you can show any of those °

ereaser horses your heels. If the vaqueros are at the
mouth of the tunnel, and happen to see us, then we’ll
hike—and if they can catch us they can have us. But
they'll never catch us,’ he added, with a laugh. “Some
queer things have happened to me, this day, old sport,”
he went on; “a little the queerest, I reckon, that ever
crossed my trail. There are a number of things Id like
to have explained, but if I settle this puzzle about the
vaqueros, I’ll be satisfied. Come, now!”

At a word Bear Paw started out of the bushes and
toward the point of the spur. Halfway to the point,
Buffalo Bill drew Bear Paw to a halt and listened-

He fancied he could*hear voices. His horse, also, had
lifted his head and was sniffing the air as though he de-

tected the proximity of other horses.

“You think, as I do, that there’s. some one around
the spur, eh?” said the scout. ‘“Well, it won't take us
long to find out, nor much longer to get away if we find
it desirable. I’d give something for my guns, at this
minute—for my guns, with good ball cartridges in the
cylinders.”

Quickening Bear Paw’s’ pace, Buffalo Bill was soon at
the point of the spur and looking around it. The sur-
prises of the day were capped by what he saw; further-
more, the sight was so unexpected that he sat in his
saddle as though dazed.

The next moment he had lifted his woice in a loud
call.

“Hey, there, you! What are you doing in this neck of
woods?”

His answer was a wild yell.

 

CHAPTER UXV.

SURE ROS TN GEV Bs NETS

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes the baron, Cayuse, and
Jack Nolan waited at the mouth of the tunnel for the
return of Nomad and Wild Bill. ,

“Der sgout has lost his life in dot hole, I bed you,”
murmured the baron darkly, “und now Vild Pill und
prave Olt Nomat haf gone! Dey vent in, like der eight
greasers, und like dem dey von't come oudt! Dey c

a ake

 

 

  

Bie SLOR iS,

ar
ea

But just then Wild Bill and Old Nomad did come out

—and they came out on the keen run, their faces blanched

and marked with wild. terror. Cayuse,and the baron
had never seen such a look on the face of either of their
pards bef6re.

‘What, in the name of all that’s good, is the matter?”
demanded Nolan.

“Waugh!” eulped the trapper, sinking down on the
rocks and rubbing. his. forehead. “I’d never hev_ be-
lieved et, ef I'hadn’t seen et with my own eyes!”

“It’s a regular death trap!” gasped Wild Bill, leaning
against a bowlder and staring at Nolan. “And such a
trap, Nolan,’ he added, “as you never dreamed of! Muy
malo, eh? By gorry, that’s a tame way to describe the
powers of darkness that are at work in’the old turquoise
mine !”

“Hyer ther hissin’ 1”
his eves.

gurgled the old trapper, rolling
“Et sounded like ther rattlin’ of er milyun
An’ then ther crunchin’ as ther walls come
Waugh! I purty nigh got nipped, I did

rattlers !
tergether——
rer a fact ly

“Vat iss id all aboudt?”’ whispered the baron, drawing
close and casting-an apprehensive look behind him. “Vat
der tickens haf you f@lers peen looking ad, dot you talk
sooch horriple vays? Shpeak oudt!”

f Thats what I: say,’ -seconded Nolan. “Don’t scare
us to death but tell us what you saw.”

“T don’t know whether you'll believe me,” replied Wild
Bill solemnly, “I doh’t know whether any sane man
would believe me, Nolan, but I’m going to tell you just
what we saw, Nick and I, down in that—that road to
sheol.

“First off, we lit our candles. Then we walked on and:

on, calling now and then for Pard Cody. sNo one an-
swered, and pretty soon we came to a well in the bottom
of the tunnel, something like a winze. The only way
to get down the winze was by means of a notched pole.
We went down, for we were determined to find our
missing pard, if he was alive. At the bottom of the

‘pole we found another tunnel, and we hadn't gone very

93

 

‘far along it when—when ’

Words seenied to fail the Laramie man, and he paused
with the old look of terror showing itself in his face.

“When what?” urged Nolan.

“Why! when we heard a hissing noise, like steam es-
caping from an engine. It grew louder and louder. Nick,
there, was a few feet ahead of me, and we both stopped
dead, at sixes and sevens regarding what we were up

against.”

Wild Bill’s voice took on a tone of awe as he con-
tinued :

“All at once the hissing stopped; and then—then—
‘Nolan, this is the plain truth, believe it or not—then the
walls on each side of Nomad began to move together!

&
 

THE BUPEALO

He jumped toward me just in time to save his bacon,
for he had no sooner reached me than the walls closed
and began to grind against each other. We stood there,
staring like a couple of crazy men, paralyzed and not
able to move. The walls suddenly fell back into place,
and there was silence, a long silence. Several minutes
later the hissing began, once more. We stayed long
enough to see the walls repeat their grinding against
each other, and then we wheeled around and rushed like
mad for the winze.

“That’s all.’ Wild Bill pulled out ae handkerchief
and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. “All, I
say; but, by gorry, it was enough. Our pard, driven into
the old mine by the guns of the vaqueros, must have
been nipped between those closing walls. I can’t figure
out what happened to him in any other way, or iM

Wild Bill stopped short, his staring eyes turned to-
watd the point of the spur. He said nothing, but his
expression was such as to cause the glances of all the
others to follow his.

A big, muscular man, barefooted,
barearmed, was rushing toward the pards.
with long, powerful leaps, matted
beard flying about his face and shqulders,

From one horror, the minds of the pards were now.
caught in another.

“Look out!” roared Wild Bill, suddenly
voice; “he’s coming for us!’

Revolvers were. drawn, but. Wild Bill lifted a
straining hand as he darted toward kis horse.

“No shooting!” he cried. “He's unarmed!

bareheaded, and
He came
and

his long, hair
finding

Gr

“Maybe

he can tell us something about the vaqueros, or about.

puttalo Bill! Capture him, pards!”

~ With a jump Wild Bill landed in his caddie
he picked up’ his coiled riata and began working at th
noose, watching the fearsome-looking stranger Ne ine

ane

tly
iS

while.

The baron, the trapper, and the little Piute began to
scatter. Nolan had already reached his own horse and
was. in the saddle.

The wild man, looking about to chaoe a victim, set-
tled upon the baron and started toward him.
~ “Ach, du lieber !” howled the baron, taking to his heels.
“He iss coming for me, bards! Do someting, und do
it kevick! Oof you don’d, I haf got to shood!”

The baron never stretched out his fat legs as he did
at that moment. Fear lent wings to his heels, and he
passed Wild Bill like a streak, hoping to reach Toofer
before he was caught.

A’ screech escaped the wild man. The screech was
followed by a mournful wail from the baron.

Just at that moment the Laramie man let his noose fly.
It dropped over the head and shoulders of the big fel-
low and was swiftly drawn taut. The wild man tum-
bled backward and sprawled convulsively in an attempt

his

SER AMT TRIE TS J NE apa aN ARSE KZA BaTe
«

BILL STORIES.

to free his arms from the aes coil that. was digging
into his flesh.

“Drop on him, all of you!” bell owed Wild Bill;
—while he’s down!’

Nolan, Old Nomad, the baron, and Cayttse rushed at
the overthrown man, and piled on top of him. In spite
of all four of them, the captive came dangerously near
to wriggling free.. It remained for Wild Bill to throw
his weight on the side of his pards; then, between them
all, he was held and bound hand and foot.

The pards rose panting from the prostrate, squirming
figure. Now that the call for action was over, they could
look their surprise into each other’s face.

“Im er Piegan ef he ain't er white man!” exclaimed
the trapper.

‘“Meppy he vas a hermit?” piped the baron. ‘“Dere
vouldn’t haf peen a®krease-shpot left oof unser Villum
dot feller hat grapped holt oof him vonce. Br-r-r!”’

The baron caught hold of himself with his arms and
shivered,

“By, gorry,
Laramie man.
tore, Nolan?’

The prisoner was gnashing his
fiercely at his bonds. The muscles
like cords, and his biceps juggled
the skin like small cannon balls.

“T never did, Hickok,” said Nolan. ‘“He’s a terror.”

UE Ni declared the baron.

“He's more than returned Wild
Bill.

“What makes you think he knows anything about
Buffalo Bill?” asked Nolan.

“T don’t think he knows,” was Hickok’s response. On
the ‘chance that he might give us a clue, I thought best
to take him without doing him any injury. He ought to’
be entitled to our consideration, anyhow. He’s white,
and he’s lecoed. There’s no telliag what the poor chap
has been. through.” .

“I know vat I vould haf peen droo oof he had grapped
holdt oof me!” gabbled the baron. “Aber don’d led us
forged aboudt Puffalo Pill, our oldt bard vat vas ketched
mit der bumping rocks in der olt mine. Shpeak to der
hermid somet’ing aboudt Puffalo Pill, somebody.”

“now

but he’s built like an ox!” muttered. the
“Did you éver see muscles like that be-

and straining

teeth
stood out on his-arms
back

and forth under

Cote vat Heise)”

wild—he’s crazy,”

The excitement consequent upon the sudden appear.
ance and capture of the wild man had in a measure died
away. The thoughts of all the pards once more re-
turned to the king of scouts, and gloom clouded their
faces, Wiid Bill stepped a little Closer to the prisoner.

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

The prisoner looked up at the Laramie man with glar-

/ing eyes,

“Eight daggers, eight daggers, eight daggers,” mum-
bled the wild man.

“He shpeaks oof der eight taggers!” gasped the baron.

 
 

 

dl
a

ee

=

 

  

THE BUPPALO
This was surprising, to say the least. What did this
wild man know about the vaqueros eight daggers?

“Do you know anything about the vaqueros?” went on
Wild Bill, changing his line of investigation; ‘or about
Ramon, the leader of the vaqueros ?”

“Eight pieces of paper, eight pieces of paper, eight

pieces of paper,’ mumbled the wild man, in a singing
tone. “All bally rot, all bally rot!”

“He knows purty nigh as much as we do erbout them
daggers an’ pieces 0’ paper,’ observed Nomad. “But
he ain’t perfessin’ ter tork sense, not noways. Try him
on ther eight kegs o’ Panama silver, Hickok.”

Wild Bill asked about the pieces-of-eight.

“All bally rot, all bally rot,’ crooned the prisoner.

“Which is mebby ther truth,’ commented Nomad, “al-
though he don’t know he says it. Whar’d he come from,
what’s his name, and what’s he doin’ in this scorched wil-
derness, w’arin’ a panther skin?” |

At that-moment, while the pards stood looking down
on their prisoner, wondering and speculating, a hail
came from the direction of the spur.

“Hey, there, you! What are you doing in this neck
of the woods?” :

_ As though touched by live electric wires the pards
whirled, stared, and stood spellbound. Close to the point
of the spur was Buffalo Bill, mounted on Bear Paw.
~ Then it was that the wild yell of greeting went up,
and, as one man, the pards started toward the scout.

CHAPTER XVI-
ARCHIBALD HENRY CLAYTON-PIERCE.

This last surprise was a fitting climax to the series
of unexpected happenings that had marked that most
eventful day.

“T see,” said the scout, after a brief exchange of greet-

ings, “that you have captured my friend, the Old Man

of the Mountain.” __

“Yer friend, Buffler?’” gasped the old trapper.

“We had a set-to in the old mine,” explained the scout,
“and the wild man befriended me and showed me a new

way wut, so that I wouldn’t have to pass the sliding

walls.’ Sek. ;
“Give it to us a little plainer, pard,’”’ said Wild Bill.
“Then,” said the scout, sitting down on a bowlder,
“Tl begin at the beginning, which is when I left Phoenix
to make my call on Bottineau.”

He started there and traced his adventures down to
the present moment. His listeners were absorbed in the

recital, and none more so than Little Cayuse. Stepping
to the scout’s side, the boy took his hand and pressed it.

“We think mebbyso you gone for good, Pa-e-has-ka,”
said Cayuse.

Con

Now we all heap glad you back. Wuh!”

mauoise Mine, > he read slowly.

BIL STORIES, 27

The scout lifted his hand and patted the boy’s shoul-
det a /

“The rest of you have something to tell me, I think,”
said he. “‘Let’s get at an understanding of this matter
before we decide what we’re to do with the prisoner.”

The pards all had a hand in setting events clearly be-
fore the scout. Nolan told of his shadowing the vaque-
ros, of his witnessing the assault on the Black Cafion
trail, of his meeting Eph Bottineau and sending him to
Phoenix to carry the news to the scout’s pards, and then
of the weary trailing through the mountains fo the old
mine.

At that point Wild Bill took up the recital, with as-
sistance from Nomad and the baron—a good deal of

assistance from the baron—and ran out the trail to the

end. .

“This wild man,” observed the scout, after a short
silence, “is crazy no less than wild. Who and what he
is is something we must determine. We must give the

d

poor fellow every consideration, and take him back to

Phoenix with us.”

“That’s the least we can do,” said Nolan.

“But how are we going to get him back?” inquired
Wild Bill.

“He can’t ride mit me!’ chirped the baron.

“We'll figure out some way to get him to town,” said
the scout.

Getting up, he passed to the side of the prisoner and
knelt down. A glimmer of recognition, and a little fear,
shone in the wild man’s eyes.

“By gorry, Pard: Cody,’ said Wild. Bill, “he’s afraid
of you! You must have put up a good fight down at
the end of that tunnel.”

The scout was about to speak to the wild man, but a
scrap of something caught his eye, just above the top.ot
the panther-skin coat. With a quick move he reached
down and plucked the object away.

The prisoner thereupon almost went into a fit. He
screeched, writhed, and strained furiously at his ropes.

“That must be something he thinks a heap of, pard,”
said Wild Bill.

“It’s a map,” said the scout, opening the paper. “And
here’s some printing,” he went on, bringing the paper
closer to his eyes. “ ‘Map of the Route to the Old Tur-
“Why,” he finished,

9,

’

“this shows the way to get from Phoenix to——

Wild Bill, giving an exultant shout, jumped at Buf-
falo Bill. oS
“Pard,” he cried, ‘and you, Nolan, listen to me. .This

-wild man is none other than Archibald Henry Clayton-

Pierce, the missing Englishman!”
That announcement was like the explosion of a lighted
bomb.
“That’s a guess, Hickok,” said the scout,
to me to be pretty far-fetched.”

“that seems

  
 

PARE le RR, RTA GOR ER

THE BUPEALD

“No guess about it,” averred Wild Bill; “it’s a dead-
open-and-shut. Eph Bottineau told me all about it, and
now I'll give you the facts as nearly in Eph’s words as
t can,”

The Laramie man repeated the information received
from Bottineau.

“From all of which it appears,’ Hickok finished, “that
Clayton-Pierce came to this part of the country to track
down that old turquoise mine. He brought the map.
iWhere he got it we don’t know, but he had it, and that’s
the main thing. What he wanted to reach the mine for,
we don’t know either. But he wanted to get there, and
he gqt there. Perhaps he had heard that yarn of Ra-
mon’s and was after the eight kegs of pieces-of-eight?
That part of it is a conundrum. What happened to him
after he reached the mine is all a guess, but it’s my no-
tion that he saw those sliding walls and that they turned
his brain. By gorry, they’re enough to get any one off
the jump. But the map, pards—the map proves that our
prisoner is Clayton-Pierce.”

Only Nolan still remained doubtful.

“Can you picture that hairy wild man,” said he, “as
secretary to the British ambassador? As heir to a duke-
dom, two castles and a million pounds sterling in Eng-
land? As the owner of a portable bath and two hair
brushes? Frankly, it doesn’t seem possible to me.”

“Six or seven years, in a wilderness like this,’ put in
the scout, “can make a big change in any man. Be-
sides, Nolan, consider that Clayton-Pierce’s mind has
‘suffered. How it has suffered, and why, is a mystery ;
maybe it will always remain a mystery; but the missing
man is found, and that’s the end of our duty.”

“Not the end of mine,” said Nolan. “TI have still those
vaqueros to deal with.”

“We'll help you deal with them,” offered the scout.
“They're still in our debt. But now, pards, let’s rest.
Some time this afternoon we'll try and follow the paper
trail to the adobe house and stay there for the night.
After that, on to Phoenix, where we can do something
for Clayton-Pierce.’’

Iwo hours of rest were enough for the scout’s pards.
They were all eager to cover as much as possible of the
difficult journey that lay between the old mine and the
adobe house while daylight served.

Nomad gave up Hide-rack for the accommodation of
the wild man. Strangely enough, the presence of the
scout seemed to awe him and make him tractable. He
offered no resistance when tied to Hide-rack, and rode
peaceably behind Wild Bill, to who qose horse Hide-rack
was tethered.

The adobe house was safely. reached some two hours
after sundown. The vaqueros, from all appearances, had
not returned to their rendezvous. Their provisions were
used in :preparing a hearty meal, and when the supper
Was over with, the scout posted a guard over the horses,

a Re Sa

‘out according to schedule.

tales of Western adventure.

one. says so, it is worth while to pay attention.

Loeeematesoanatontaere neater etre tan akasenccca as

BILL, STORIES:
another over the house, and he and Wild Dill went thto
consultation over their pipes.

The scout laid eight pieces of yellow parchment on the
table.

“What's that you’ve got, pard?” queried Wild Bill.

“The eight pieces of paper that were pinned by eight
daggers to the breast of the tunnel,’ answered the scout.
“They go together like a dissected puzzle, but there's no
reading the Spanish words. Some of the letters are
faded’ and blotted out.”

“Then we won't be able to find the eight kegs
ama silver?’
pointed tone. . ;

“No—assuming that there ever were eight kegs of
silver, a matter I strongly doubt.”

“But everything else connected with the mine worked
Why shouldn't the eight kegs

s of Pan
returned the Laramie man in a_ disap-

drop into the programme?”

“They'll never drop into my programme,” said the
scout.

“I’m going back to that old turquoise mine some day,”
declared Wild Bill, “and take another look at the sliding
walls.”

“Then you will go alone, Pard Hickok, so far as I’m
concerned. I’ve had enough of the old turquoise mine.”
“How do you explain the sliding walls?”

“Some bubbling lava under

the phenomenon, I reckon.

the earth’s crust causes

But what’s the use of trying

to explain it? We know what’s going on in the old

mine, don't we? ‘This whole country is full of freaks

of nature and other wonders. What’s the use of looking

for an explanation, Hickok ?” :
“No use,” the Laramie man replied.

THE END,

Taking a shot at what you will think of a story does
not seem such a long chance in the case of the one se-
lected for next week. There isn’t the faintest doubt
that you will like it, or agree that it is the real thing in
Probably you will go much
further in expressing your appreciation. ‘Buffalo Bill
and the Eight Vaqueros; or, The Man of Con Armas
Blancas.” That is the title. It would not surprise any
of the editors if you said of this yarn, It touches one of
the topmost notches,reached in the Buffalo Bill series.
The author is confident that he has done what he calls

“ripping fine piece of work.” And when it is such an
author who talks you know he is the goods—when such a
Be sure
you read it for yourself in No. 463.

tay Beware of Wild West imitations of the Buffalo Bill Stories.
They are about fictitious characters. The Buffalo Bill weekly
is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffzilo Bill,
(Col. W. F. Cody), who is known all over the world as the king
of scouts.

 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
  
 
 
  

 

   

    
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

NEW YORK, March 19, 1910.

 

TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
(Postage Free.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

BP WIONTOS eee Osi dusiha verti 6 65c¢. Oneyear . i ee ueieues $2.50
A -MONTAS .U sched see ses-- sa S5¢..| 2 copies one year... .s...s222-- 4,00
6 Monts elo ea eee eee ioe $1.25 Lcopy: two; Years... Jc. ceenc- 4,00

How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order,
registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent
by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter.

Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper
change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly
credited, and should let us know at.once.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,

Ormowrp G. Smitn, }
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.

Georce C. Smitx, ¢ Proprietors.

>

A RIDDLE OF THE SEA.

RTHUR LINDLEY sat up in bed, rubbed his head,
tousled his hair, and leaped out onto the icy oil-
cloth. He pattered swiftly to the big window of
the dermitory at Blackrock Academy, and stared

with screwed-up eyes out into the stormy night. Hail and
sleet lashed savagely at the windows, but through the quiv-
ering mist Lindley could see the white breakers foaming

‘at the foot of the cliffs below and the waste of tossing

waters out at sea. .The swishing liquid roar of the stormy
sea echoed throughout the sleeping building.

‘“Who-oo!? said Lindley softly to himself, imitating the
roar of the wind in the chimney, ‘Dunno’—he shivered,
and turned toward the warm sheets again—‘‘dunno, but I
thought By jingo, there’s a light!”

Out on the misty world of water a little pinprick of light
broke suddenly through the darkness, tossing fantastically
on the waves. Then a blur of rain slacked it out. A mo-

 

ment later a red trail of fire seared the darkness, flamed

like a meteor, and disappeared.

“A wreck!” gasped Lindley, in a kind of whispered howl.
“A wreck! Hi, you fellows! Snorers, snorters, snigglers !
Hi! hi! awake!’

He brought a pillow down on half a dozen placid faces.
The faces leaped up in bed with various exptessions of
ferocity and astonishment. —.

“A wreck! A wreck!’ said Lindley, in a kind of joyous
chant, scrambling into his clothes.

“Chuck it, you old goblin!” growled Wickham savagely,
planting his foot in Lindley’s back. “Expect you've been
wavin’ false lights, or something |” :

It had been Lindley’s dearest wish to see a real wreck
during all his years at Blackrock Academy. Of course, it
was to be a harmless affair—foreign sailors with brass ear-
rings and parrots, gallantly rescued by the academy boys,
and all that. Now it had come!

The wind was blowing from the sea like a solid thing,
howling weirdly in the old gables of Blackrock House, as
half the boys and Mr. Askew, the assistant master, stepped
outside into the black, wet night.
oa much chance in this,” said Wickham, peering sea-
ward.

“Dunno,” said Lindley, scanning the gleaming white foam
at the foot of the cliff, “It)s—ah, there! Why, it’s only
a yacht!”

 

BILL) STORIES. 29

‘Almost in the surge of the breakers, where a black ridge
of rocks pierced the white foam, a tossing lantern showed
for a moment. They could see the sharp-cut mainsail of a
yacht, seemingly half under water, heaving on the great
waves. Even as they gazed an invisible hand seemed to
grasp the frail craft, raised it high in air for a moment,
and dropped it with a grinding crash onto the ridge of surf-
washed rocks. A great white-topped wave came roaring
in from the sea, swept the yacht clean, and roared liquidly
against the cliff foot.

“They're done!” Mr. Askew said, with a groan.

“No, they're not!’ cried Lindley  shrilly, pointing.
“They're clinging to’ the yacht yet—see, three of “em. A
rope !—we want a rope!”

“Here!” said Wickham in his usual surly. voice, as he
seized Lindley by the coat collar. “What do you want a
rope for?”

“Let me go, noodle!” gasped Lindley. “Not to hang my-
self with, anyway. To rescue ’em with, you fathead!”

“T’m in this little game,” Wickham growled, calmly pro-
ducing a big coil of rope. “Knew this ‘ud be wanted.
Come on, quick, before old Inquire Within sees us.” (It
may be explained that “Inquire Within” was an elaborate
nickname for Mr. Askew.)

Down the steep cliff upon which Blackrock School stood
a little narrow path ran. Danger lurked on it on the calm-
est day, fot it was narrow and slippery, and far below were
the jagged rocks and the angry sea. Arthur Lindley
and Rol Wickham, clinging to the wet face of the rock,
swayed at every breathless gust of the wind. Once Lindley
slipped, dropped to his knees, and, swaying dizzily, missed
falling by a miracle. Five minutes later they stood, white- .
faced and-panting, on a comb of rock, with the foam roaring
areund them. Far away, at the end of the ‘long spit of
rock that stretched at their feet, three black objects clung
to the upturned side of the wrecked yacht.

“Give’us the rope!’ shouted Lindley above the din of
roaring waters. _

Wickham’s lips moved. Lindley could not hear what he
said and snatched at the rope.

“I'm going, I say!” Lindley roared hoarsely, struggling.

He jerked the end of the rope from Wickham’s hand and
fastened it round his waist.

“Hold the end,” he roared. A moment later he was
sprawling on the spit of rock, creeping slowly along to the
crippled yacht... The backwash of a wave~ slopped over
him, drenching him in liquid ice, it seemed. Then a real
wave came and hit him with several sledge hammets. Lind-
ley shook his head like a terrier, clung to the rock, and
spat out.

“Rottenly salt!” he gasped to himself.

After that the waves came over him every few seconds
as he crawled very slowly toward the wreched yacht, grind-
ing him against the hard rock until every bone was numb.
Still Lindley fought grimly and desperately. Through the
flying spray he could see that an elderly, clean-shaven man,
a white-faced young man, and a man, big-jawed, bullet-
headed, with the look of a prize fighter, clung to the yacht.
Even through the peril of that moment Lindley thought
they were a strange trio.

He reached them at last, exhausted and half dazed.

“Look out!’ he shouted.

He leaned far over, sitting straddle-legged on the spit of
rock, sat tight while a great white-topped comber passed
swishing over his head, and flung the end of the rope, It
fell across the shoulders of the elderly man, and he snatched
it greedily. Bi

“Tie it tight to the mast,’ Lindley roared.

The young man wrefiched it from the elderly man’s hand,
leaned over, and tied the rope to the mast. Then he seized |
the rope and scrambled onto the spit of rock. A choked
cry left the lips of the elderly man.

“You rotter!’ said Lindley hotly. “The old man first!”

est
   

30

The young man shot a glance at Lindley that startled

him, so full of malice it was, and, holding the rope, began
to crawl along the spit of rock toward land without a
word.

“Sceug!” said Lindley contemptuously, bending down to
the elderly man. With infinite difficulty he lifted him onto
the rock, and the bullet-headed man followed. A huge
wave came, and all but washed them off like so many flies.
But very slowly, clinging to the rope, they crawled back
step by step toward the good dry land. °

A minute later the three of them stumbled limply onto
the ledge of rock, where Wickham and the young man clung
to the rope.

Queer things were astir at Blackrock School. For one
thing, old Doctor Reynolds, the gentle, white-haired old
head, had long been gradually, but steadily, declining in
health and mind. A dim, far-away light crept into his eyes
often nowadays. The boys of Blackrock might have run
tiot, so gentle and. absent-minded had he become. But,

~ fortunately, none of them were cads enough to do so.

The sudden appearance of Mr. Joshua Cornthwaite, his
son Arnold, and his manservant Shandy—for such were the
strangers whom Lindley and Wickham had rescued’so dra-
matically from the wreck of the yacht—seemed to snap the
last thread of old Doctor Reynolds’ intellect, When Lind-
ley, Wickham, and the strangers had Staggered, dripping,
into Doctor Reynolds’ presence; the Head had recoiled ac
though, some one had struck him. Lindley could have
sworn that the old doctor knew the unpleasant-faced, sneer-
ing-mouthed elderly man, his sullen son, and his. bullet-
headed manservant. But he and Wickham had been abruptly
sent to bed, and a fog, of mystery enveloped Lindley’s in-
quisitive mind. ;

Only next day he buttonholed Wickham in his study, with
a strange light in his eye.

“How long does it take whiskers to grow, Wicky?” he
asked.

“Because the earth, spinning on its axis, revolves once a
day with a silly idiot clinging to it,” said Wickham, who
smelled a joke, “and that idiot’s name is Lindley.”

“Don’t rot!” said Lindley, fiercely shaking his fist. “I’m
serious. Will whiskers grow in a night ?”

“Best hair oil in the world won’t do that,” said Wick-
ham, who was alleged to have had a shave the last time
he visited Fartown, and spoke with some authority.

Lindley whistled and danced a little jig.

“The old boy we pulled out of the water last night was
clean shaven,” he said softly. “I saw him this morning;
and, lo and behold, he had a goodly crop of gray whiskers
upon his cheeks!”

“Then they—they must be false’ whispered Wickham, in
awestruck tones.

-. Lindley whistled shrilly. And that was the first mystery
of the three strangers.

After that things at Blackrock moved swiftly. Mr. Joshua
Cornthwaite, his son, and Shandy, his manservant, stopped
day after day as the guest of old Doctor Reynolds at
Blackrock. A week later Mr. Askew, the assistant master,
left suddenly, and Arnold Cornthwaite. the white-faced,
sullen-eyed son of Cornthwaite, appeared in his place.. The
boys never saw old Doctor Reynolds nowadays.

The climax came suddenly.

One morning when Lindley and Wickham entered the
classroom for algebra, they paused suddenly, staring with
wide eyes and open mouths. For enthroned at the desk
on the platform, clad in all the dignity of cap and gown,
was—Mr. Joshua Cornthwaite!

The class bubbled with excitement; Mr. Cornthwaite held
up his hand for silence. °

“Doctor Reynolds has gone away a few days for’ his
health,” he said, in a hard, metallic voice. “In the mean,

~ THE BUFFALO

 

BILL STORIES.

time, I take charge of the school. Understand that. Now
to work.”

The class bubbled again. Mr. Cornthwaite called little
Anstruther out, in his hard voice, and gave him several cuts
with the cane.
Blackrock for years.

“False-whiskered old tomcat!” murmured Lindley, « “Wish
‘Pd let him drown! I’m sure something's. up!”

Blazing indignation surged through the class. Mr. Joshua

Cornthwaite adjusted his eyeglasses and surveyed them cyn-

ically. ‘

“Silence!” he said. ‘I’ll soon lick you young cubs into
shape. You've been badly neglected.” :

“S-s-8!” Lindley hissed very gently. A” sudden silence
fell across the class, ‘and the ticking of the clock on the
wall could be heard’very distinctly. Mr. Cornthwaite looked
up with the expression of an insulted Nero, his eyes mere
narrow, venomous slits. Lindley felt himself whiten, but
continued to hiss until his breath was exhausted.

“A very interesting performance,” said Mr. Cornthweaite
sarcastically. Lindley felt rather silly, and hated Mr. Corn-
thwaite from the very depths of his heart at'that moment.
“Come out, boy.”

Young Anstruther still stood opposite the master’s desk
when Lindley, with a dogged grin, gepped out. Mr. Corn-
thwaite leaned over and made a Savage cut at him with
the cane. He ducked, and the cane whistled harmlessly
past him. :

Mr. Cornthwaite lost his temper.

“You young idiot!’ he said tensely, leaning over and
making another cut. Lindley retreated, and again the stick
missed him, splitting against the desk.

“DIL half flay s

In his zeal Mr. Cornthwaite mounted his chair. But,
alas! that-chair was unsteady on its legs. For a moment
it tottered. Then. it overturned. The cane flew from Mr.
Cornthwaite’s hand, and Mr. Corthwaite himself dropped
heavily on his desk, upsetting ink pots, scattering books and
papers, and rolling heavily to the platform, where he sat
and rubbed himself for a moment before rising.

The class choked. It was the fall of the tyrant with a
vengeance. Wickham crowed triumphantly in a low voice,
Fatty Kilner hugged himself and laughed wheezily, and the
rest of the class went into convulsions,

Mr. Cornthwaite resumed his seat silently. But Lindley
did not like the viperous look he threw at him as he did SO.

 

“Dunno,” said Lindley, balancing himself on his skates
and gazing at the big cake of ice that swayedsand bobbed
about in mid-river,
cake of ice.” a

“Come off, you loony,” growled Rol Wickham. He knew
from experience that when Lindley said “Dunno,” and looked
solemn, he was meditating some crack-brained adventure.

Away from them, a wide ribbon of steel-blue ice. stretching |

into.the snow-covered country, was the frozen river. Qvet
the white hill and snow-covered woods the chimneys of
Blackrock smoked largely. Lindley was gazing solemnly at
the big cake of ice that floated in midstream, where~ the
current of the river ran.

Phere goes,” he satd\ an 4 grief-stricken voice, as though
a cruel fate was pricking at him behind.

He leaped onto the big ice cake and balanced himself as
it swayed to and fro. é

“Only fools ’ud do a thing like this,” growled Wickham,
following him.

In midstream the current ran strong, and the big piece
of ice floated swiftly. Here, too, the ice had broken up’
and the water was dimpled with the current.

“I say,” Lindley suddenly said, in a startled: voice.

“Lis-
ten !”

   

en

sc NEST are

It was a thing that had not been done at.

 

“Often thought I’d like -a sail on a

 

  
  
   
  
    
  

 
 

  
  

 

 

 

 

dropped cleanly on the ice.

 

| ‘A dull, incessant roar came to their ears from far down

the river. a

“The waterfall, of course,’ said Wickham _ placidly.
“Didn’t you know?’

“Did I—jingo!” said Lindley uneasily. “Only a little one
PT expect: oe

“Big as Niagara, nearly,” said Wickham.

“Whoo!” Lindley looked scared. “And we're right in
the middle of the river, too!”

The current had gripped the big cake of ice fairly now,
and in the middle of the river it was floating ponderously
but swiftly down to the waterfall. »

“Oh, something’ll happen before we reach Niagara,’ said
Wickham easily. “Take your eee off, for we've got to
swim.” Dis

The piece of ice swung dizzily round, like a match box
in a rainy gutter, and the roarof the waterfall grew louder.
They could see the glassy ‘water above it.

“(m making a jump for it!” said Lindley suddenly.

The piece of ice leaped forward like a living thing as

3
tes

the swift current. seized it.

“No go!” said Wickham, scared for the firstetime. “The
current’ll have you!”

_We were precious fools getting onto this,’ said Lindley
fervently. . -

He watched the water bubble round them. There seemed
nothing to do but watch and wait for the hurly-burly. The
reat of the fall drowned their talk. A chill that did not
come from the ice struck Lindley, and he closed his eyes.

‘We're about done, Wick, old man,” he said jerkily. “I’m
sorry——_ Hello, what’s that?”

A voice suddenly hailed them from the river bank. A
thin, keen-faced man stood with a rope in his hand.

“Catch!” The shout floated above the roar of the water-
fall.

The rope came curling skillfully across the water and
Lindley seized it eagerly. ©

“Grip that!’ he shouted, thrusting a part gf it into
Wickham’s hand. “It'll hold us beth. Quick!”

The last word was jerked from him in a shrill scream, for
at that momént the cake of ice hung poised for a second
on the edge of the steep waterfall and then crashed over the
brink. The icy water closed over them. But .the rope
pulled strongly and they clung grimly. A moment later
they scrambled ashore.

“You young idiots!” said their rescuer tersely, wiping his
forehead. “Good job I saw you from:a distance, and they
had a rope at the farm there. Better go to the farm and
get dry.”

He turned on his heel and walked away without a word,
leaving the chums looking at each other very sheepishly.

“Come on,’ said, Wickham. tee

They walked to the farm. Luckily there were various
nondescript clothes they could slip into while their own
dried. But the full moon had risen over the frosty hills,
inland, before they were walking along the river bank to-
ward Blackrock School.

“Old Corny’ll slay us for this,” said Wickham.
~ “Dunno,” returned Lindley. “Wonder where old Doctor
Reynolds really is? Corny and that beastly son of his have
collared him ‘and put him away somewhere, I’ll be bound.”

They were threading their way through a. thick wood as
they talked, and, suddenly, through the bare, snow-whitened
branches, for all the world like any theatre scene,.a yellow
light struck suddenly through the darkness, and went out
again. f

“The—the haunted: lodge!’’ said Wickham in a-whisper,
standing stock still. od

Again the light flashed through the trees, and suddenly
the dry cough of a man broke through the silence.

vt know that cough!” said Lindley, tersely. “It’s Shandy,

Corny’s man! Come on, Wicky !”

The AME RLS A AN A ara aatice om emnsime tl

 

HE. BUPEALO

Me

BILL STORIES. ar

He crept over the soft snow, threading his way between
the frosted tree trunks. From the snowy-white darkmess

arotind loomed the black shape of the haunted lodge—

haunted, tradition said, by the ghost of a huntsman, long
dead, who had been gored to death, on his very doorstep, by
a wounded deer.

It was black and deserted, the little breeze of wind singing
weirdly through its half-ruined gable.

“Nothin’ here,” said Wickham, doubtfully.

“S-s-h!-

Up near the ruined gable a light showed from some little

window, and glimmered dimly but steadily. A moment later

the shadow of a man’s head passed across the cobweb hung

glass.
“Dr. Reynolds!” whispered Lindley, hoarsely.
“Oh. rot!’ said Wickham, with a scared look.
An old, moss-covered pear tree ran up along the wall of
the old building, and spread its bare branches high above
the gable. Lindley clasped it without a word, and shinned
up swiftly. Wickham followed. .
Through the veil of dust and cobwebs that covered the
window, Lindley and Wickham saw a bare room illuminated
by a single candle end. Seated on a box in one corner was
—_Dr, Reynolds, headinaster of Blackrock School.
“We must get him out of this, Wick,” Lindley whispered,
huskily. ;
Wickham. nodded. From a big shadow in the corner a
thick-built figure lurched suddenly, and entered the room.
It was Shandy, Mr. Cornthwaite’s manservant. “The beast !”
said Wickham, with a quick hiss of his breath.
Shandy had kicked the book brutally from old Dr. Rey-

nolds’ hand, seized him by the scruff of the neck, and brought
his fist heavily down on the old man’s face,

What follow@ happened in a moment. Lindley gave a
choked cry, kicked out his foot, and shattered the dim glass
of the window, Then he dropped through the jagged aper-
ture into the room, and, cut and bleeding, rushed upon
Shandy. i

“You dirty coward!” he said in a low voice as he leapt.

The big, thick-set’ Shandy went down easily, for he was
aghast with astonishment. But a moment later he had flung
Lindley off, and they were rolling and scuffling together on
the floor. !

Wickham scrambled through the broken window, but even
as he dropped into the room something seized him in a steel
erip, and he found himself fighting grimly with Arnold Corn-
thwaite. So the four of them rolled and bumped and fought
silently on the dusty, dim-lit floor. But Shandy’s bullet-

head crashed into Lindley’s ribs like a battering-ram, and

Arnold Cornthwaite’s grip paralysed Wickham. Lindley was
winded and half unconscious. Red lights swam before Wick-
ham’s eyes. And then—a light footfall sounded behind them,
Arnold Cornthwaite was literally torn from Wickham, and
flung in a limp heap into a corner, where he lay groaning.

Shandy ceased those terrible blows with his bullet head .

abruptly and crumpled up, writhing with pain. Lindley
looked up with dazed eyes, and saw the thin, keen-faced
man who had rescued them from the waterfall.

“Two of ’em,” the newcomer said calmly; “jiu-jitsued and
nabbed nicely. But the chief ’un, where is he ?”’ é

‘Mr. Cornthwaite?” said Lindley, rising unsteadily to his
feet,

“That's the bird, though his real name’s Mackworth.
Know him?”

“He’s at Blackrock School.”

The thin man grinned.

“A smart ‘un!’ he said admiringly. “Take me to him.
But first some rope for these. Me? Oh, I’m Grayson, the
detective.” :

‘And that is the real story of the capture of Tom Mack-
worth, Alfred Mackworth, his son, and Jim Purcell, his
partner, the notorious blackmailers.
  

 

 

LATEST ISSUES"

 

DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY _

The heroes of the stories published in this weekly are déar to the hearts of 60,000 boys. Diamond Dick is a

splendid Western character. High art colored covers.
693—Diamond Dick’s Strong Hand; or, Nabbing the Gold Grab-

ers.

694—Diamond Dick’s Great Dive; or, The Theft of the Golden
Medals,

695-——Diamond Dick’s Biggest Round-up; or, The Last Stand
of Snapping Turtle.

 

696—Diamond Dick’s Splendid Dash; or, The Rascals of Rocky
Cove.

697—Diamond Dick’s Catamount Leap; or, The King of the
Bad Lands.

Thirty-two big pages. Price, 5 cents.

eer hee Dick’s Daring Decoy; or, Snaring a- Mysterious

ang,

699—Diamond Dick’s Clean Sweep; or, The End of a Big
Swindle.

700—Diamond Dick’s\ Golden Riddle; or, Trapping the Up-to-

, date Crooks.

701—Diamond “Dick’s Keen Sight; or, The Mystery of the Set-
tlement.

702—Diamond Dick’s Forest Mystery; or, Through the Great
North Woods.

 

~ BUFFALO BILL STORIES

The most original stories of Western adventure.
Buffalo Bill. High art colored covers.

451—Buffalo Bill ‘and the Horde of Hermosa; or, The Red
Rivals of the Rio Bravo.

452——Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail; or, Foiling the Red Invaders.

' 493——Buffalo Bill’s Quarry; or, Captain Rance, of the Gold
Seekers,

454—Buffalo Bill. in Deadwood; or, The Trail of the Copper-’

head.
455—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid; or, Saving the Shotgun Messenger.
. 456—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight; or, A Red Man’s Friend.
457—Buffalo Bill Repaid; or, Old Moonlight’s @flystery.

The only weekly containing the adventures of the famous
Thirty-two big pages.

Price, 5 cents.

458—Buffalo- Bill's. Throwback; or, The Fiddler -from Forty-
mile.

450—Buffalo Bill’s “Sight Unseen ;” or, The Blind Man’s Bluff.

400—Buffalo Bills New Pard; or, Happy Hank from Ha=Ha
Valley.

461—Buffalo Bill’s Winged Victory: 6r, The Man Who Won.

462—Buffalo Bill’s Pieces-of-Eight; or, The Old Turquoise Mine.

Mystery.
463—Buffalo Bill and the Eight Vaqueros; or, The Men of Con
Armas Blancas,

 

BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY

All kinds of stories that boys like.
covers. Thirty-two big pages.

368—Sparkling Plunder: or,
By. Lawrence White, Jr.

369—Under Full Steam; or, The Tugboat Route to Success. By
John L. Douglas.

370—The Boys of Liberty; or, The Adventures of Paul Revere.
By John De Morgan.

371—The House of Mystery; or, Working a Great Scheme; By
Matt Royal.

372-—Striking Out For Himself; or, The Mystery of Giant

Forest. By John L. Douglas.

373—The Airship Destroyer; or, Gordon Keith’s Greatest Mys-
tery. By Lawrence White, Jr.

Price, 5 cents. _
Gordon Keith Bagging Jailbirds.

The biggest and

 

best nickel’s worth ever offered. High art colored

374—Bert Fairfax’s Pluck; or, The Trials and Triumphs of
Schoolboy Life. By Frank Sheridan.
375—-A Business Boy; or, Hal Hartley’s Race for Fortune. By
John L. Douglas.
376—The Young Guardsman; or, With Washington in the Ohio
Valley. By John De Morgan. ~
377——Tom of the Lion Heart; or, The Adventures of a Fearless
Boy. By Matt Royal.
378—A_Young Clerk’s Pluck; or, Fighting Against Long Odds.
“BY Joho 4. Douglas.
379—The Trail Over Seas; or, Gordon Keith’s Brilliant Play.
- By Lawrence White, Jr. ee

For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price, ;
5 cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York

 

 

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be |
obtained from this office direct.
tus with the price of the Weeklies you want and we will send them to you by return mail.

Fill out the following Order Blank and éend it to
POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY,

 

RUREGT h EMIT, 2630 Sick Moose Neo ek ee srrneeeneneeneeseeesneeseel9O
Dear Sirs: Enclosed please find............00..00005 .... scents for which send me:
TIP TOP WEEKLY, NOR Ra .sxe--» | BUFFALO BILL STORIES, NOS Fei scl eee

Diem CARTER WEEKLY, ie BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY,“ ........

DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY, “ ....... Se Galacal een eel cuee

WMO sacs eet a fe ged Street eee,

ese? iee

er eeersceereoeoeeeeeceeseves

a

weeeesa casa CHD eeeeeneneeeeeseanneeeer weleleec ce MQlO.c cece ck ee

 

Sesser ESS

J ae eeseees eT

bo

 

 

 
 
  

    
 

nS Ost SSE RS i Be

 
 

 

BUFFALO BILL STORIES

 

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures
of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are. These stories have been read exclusively in this
weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.

Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to

know all there is to know about him.

In no manner can

you become so thoroughly acquainted with

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

You can have your news-dealer
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in
money or postage-stamps.

’ We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print.

241—Buffalo
242—Buffalo
243—Butfalo
244—Buffalo
245—Buffalo
246—Buffalo
247—Buffalo
248—Buffalo
249—Buffalo
250—Buffalo
251—Buffalo
252—Buffalo
253—Buffalo
254—Buffalo
256—Buftfalo
257—Buffalo
258—Buffalo
259—Buffalo
261—Buffalo
262—Buffalo
263—Buffalo
264—Buffalo
265—Buffalo
266—Buffalo
267—Buffalo
269—Buffalo

King

271—Buffalo
272—Buffalo
273—Buffalo
274—Buffalo
275—Buffalo
276—Buffalo
278—Buffalo
280—Buffalo
282—Buffalo
283—Buftfalo
284—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
287—Buffalo
288—Buffalo
289—Buffalo
290—Buffalo
292—Buffalo
293—Buffalo
295—Buffalo
297—Buftfalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
300—Buffalo
303—Buffalo
304—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306—Buffalo
3807—Buffalo:
308—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
810—Buffalo
811—Buffalo
812—Buffalo
313—Buffalo
8314—Buffalo
315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
318—Buffalo
819—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
822—Buffalo
324—Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo

Bill’’s Dakota Dare-devils....
Bill’s Arapahoe Alliance.....
Bill on Special Service..... f
Bill on a Treasure Hunt....
IBIS shosth QUAL Yi... 25:56 +66
Bill Among the Comanches...
Bill’s Stockade Siege........
Bill’s Creek Quarrel........
Bill Among the Pawnees.....
Billonca, Lone Hunt... 35%: 1
Bill’s Wyoming Trail........
Bill and the Redskin Wizard..
Bill’s Bold Challenge........
Bill’s Shawnee Stampede.....
Bill on a Desert Trail.......
Bill’s Rio Grande Feud......
Bill in Tight Quarters.......
Biles {Waning eECSCuer i .).0e.5.'s
Bill’s Treasure Train....
Bill Among the Blackfeet.
Bill’s Border Beagles........
Bill and the Bandits in Black..
Bill and the Indian Tiger....
Bill on the Deadwood Trail...
Bill in the Cafion of Death..
Bill and the Robber Ranch

lenfeue,

Bill and the Traitor Soldier..
Bill’s Dusky Trailers........
Bills’ Diamond: Mine. ..05.)..
Bill and the Pawnee Serpent..
Bills Scarlet Hand). se. ve
Bill Running the Gantlet....
Bill’s Daring Plunge........
Bill’s Ghost Raid...........
Bill's. Camp-firesi:. . se... o.1. 3
SM WDA Oo LUMND Giese vse cener. cee
Bills Secret Woe tei. os
Bill’s Master-stroke........
Bill and the Brazos Terror...
Bills Dance of Death.......
Bill and the Creeping Terror..
Bill and the Brand of Cain..
Bill’s Medicine-lodge........
Billsin wher ys casas ects 2 occes
Bill in the Death Desert.....
Bill’s Border Ruffians.......
Bill’s Black HWagles.........
Bills Desperate Dozen......
Bill’s Rival

Bill and the White Specter...
Bill’s Death Defiance.......
Bill and the Barge Bandits..
Bill, the Desert Hotspur....
Bill’s Wild Range Riders....
Bill’s Whirlwind Chase......
Bill’s Red Retribution.......
Bill Haunted

Bills Misht: for Wifes. csi...
Biulvs- Death -JUMp ey ches.
Bill and the Pit of Horror...
Bill in the Jaws of Death....
Bill’s Aztec Runners.........
Bill’s Dance with Death.....
BIS Mlenys H.C oie wc ais win os
Billis;Mazeppay Rides... . oo...
Bills Gypsy, (Bands... .... 3.5.
BRS ye MEAV ERICK ges hie cho) ore ees
Bulls Gold) Hunters 23305. 07.5.)
Billin Old Mexicow. 2.52.725 ..
Bill’s Message from the Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master....

CLOTOUOTOUONONOUOTOUOTOUOTOUVOON

CUTOLOVOVONVON OF OLOLOTOTOUOTOUOUON

CVOTOVOTON

CVOTOUOVOVOT OVO

 

328—Buffalo
329—Buffalo
3830—Buffalo
331—Buftfalo
332—Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buffalo
335—Butfalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—Buffalo
339—Buffalo
340—Buffalo
341—Buffalo
342—Buffalo
343—Buffalo
344—Buffalo
345—Buffalo
346—Buffalo
348—Buffalo
349—Buffalo
350—Buffalo
351—Buffalo
352—Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354—Buffalo
355—Buffalo
356—Buffalo
357—Buffalo
358—Buffalo
359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
362—Buffalo
363—Buffalo
364—Buftfalo
366—Buffalo
367—Buffalo
868—Buffalo
369—Buffalo
370—Buffalo
871—Buffalo
372—Buffalo
373—Buffalo
374—Buffalo
375—Buffalo
376—Buffalo
377—Buffalo
378—Buffalo
379—Buffalo
380—Buffalo.
381—Buffalo
382—Buffalo
883—Buffalo
384—Buffalo
385—Buffalo
3886—Buffalo
8387—Buffalo
888—Buftfalo
3889—Buffalo
390—Buffalo
391—Buffalo
892—Buffalo
893—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buffalo
396—Buffalo
397—Buffalo
898—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Buffalo
401—Buffalo
402—Buffalo

Bill’s Flying Wonder.......
Bill’s Hidden Gold..........
Bilis: Outlaw: Trails: occ es
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and the Mad Marauder..
Bills Ice Barricade........
Bill and the Robber Elk....
Bill’s Ghost Dance..........
Bill’s Peace-pipe.....0°...--
Bill’s Red Nemesis..........
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bills Pay. Streake..6 oo  s
Bill on Detached Duty......
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bills ROte Me ecr utero cto stoners
Bill’s Flat-boat Drift........
Bibl One DeCk aii cee etek occ
Bill and the Bronco Buster...
Bill’s Great Round-up.......
Bill's Pledee ice sacs secs) pes
Bills; Cowboy. Bardioo yes. .2 2%
Bill and the Emigrants......
Bill Among the Pueblos.....

Surprise] Panty... e-.
Great Rides... csc.
Water rallies oar.
Ordeal: of Fire... 2...
Casket of Pearls......

Bill’s Four-footed Pards......

Bille PPTOLe Senin occ sence ote!
BilvsysBick-Opi es seccc esc sce
BINS QMCSUy coo. eh ciorans sions ieee
Bill’s Waif of the Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons...
Bills, ASsistameCekes e... cae an
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail....
Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
Bills; Stroms Ame oi. ass ye
Ballesi Girly Pandey ices eee os ole
Bill’s Iron Bracelets......

Army. Mystery... .....-°5

Skye vPilotions vie weirs ces &

Bill’s Ranch Riders...... as

Bills BSadexvAmulet so)... ccc. 01.
Bills Magic. Lariat. .....-...
Bills “(Paper=Talke os. see once.
Bill’s Bridge of Fire
Bill’s Bowie

Bill’s Pay-streak..........-
MGS MING 0.5.05, nei enero ters; ove esene: «
Bills Clean-up. .2.2 so.
Bill’’s Ruse

Bill Overboard

BilecRine 6h Ss

Bill’s Big. Contract... .i....-..
Bill and Calamity Jane......
Bills Kade Pande cs -ts s cues or
Bill’s Desperate Plight.......
Bill’s Fearless Stand........
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bills Guiding Hand. a... 6s 3:
Bills Queer ‘Quest... 5.0.25.
Bill’s Prize ‘“‘Getaway”......
Bill’s Hurricane Hustle......
Bills Stare Players siete «1 Sens

BU St Bie oe cere cos) ae oho in' oS

Bill’s Trackers....... -

eS Ou CCMe eRe erste get ets
Bill and the Bravo..........
Bill and the Quaker.........
Bill’s Package of Death....
Bill’s Treasure Cache.....-..

5

 

403—Buffalo
404—Buffalo
405—Buffalo
406—Buffalo
407—Buffalo
408—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—Buffalo
411—Buffalo
412—-Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—-Buffalo
415—Buffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Buffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Buffalo
420—Buffalo
421—Buffalo
422—Buffalo
423—Buffalo
424—Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
427—Buffalo
428—Buffalo
429—Buffalo
430—Buffalo
431—Buffalo
432—Buffalo
433—Buffalo
434—Buffalo
435—Buffalo
436—Buffalo
437—Buffalo
438—Buffalo
439—Buffalo
440—Buffalo
441—Buffalo
442—Buffalo
443—Buffalo
444——Buffalo
445—Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Buffalo

| 448 Buffalo

449—Buffalo
450—Buffalo
451—Buffalo

mosa.

452—Buffalo
453—Buffalo
454—Buffalo
455—Buffalo
456—Buffalo
457—Buffalo
458—Buffalo

459—Buffalo’

460—Buffalo
461—Buffalo
462—Buffalo
463—Buftfalo
464—Buffalo

Bill’s’ Private: Wat... 00...
Bill and the Trouble Hunter..
Bill and the Rope Wizard...
BIS sMVeStaG. cota costeness suet
Bill Among the Cheyennes...
Bill Besiesed enti. e cnsec tye =
Bill and the Red Hand.......
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift......
Bill and the Specter.........
Bill and the Red Feathers...
Bills “King Stroke... 400 -.
Bill, the Desert Cyclone.....
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.......
Bill and the Man-wolf......
Bill and His Winged Pard...
Bill. at Babylon: Bar. 7e...
Bill’s: Boms sAriMs on co cys clee
Bill and.Old Weasel Top....
Bill’s Steel Arm Pard......
Bill’s’ Aztec Guide... .0.095.)..
Bill and Little: Firefly......
Bill in the Aztec City......
Bills “Balloon  HWscape....'..
Bill and the Guerrillas......
Bill’s Border War ae

Bill’s Mexican Mix-up
Bill and the Gamecock .....
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........
Bills Binal’ Scoopies. sai. sea

Bill at? Clearwater: ...00.0..5.¢

Bill’s Winning Hand........

Bilis: Cinehs Claim'tn 2.0.0...

Bill?s*:COMPAGCS a” sigs) se seueens

Bill in the Bad Lands......

Bill and the Boy Bugler....

Bill and the Heathen Chinee.

Bill and the Chink War......

Bill’s Chinese Chase........

Bill’s Secret Message.......-

Bill and the Horde of Her- é

OVSTOoro on

OV OF OF OF OF OF OFT OF Ol En OF OF OF O1 OT OF OL OT

OU OF OF OL OT OF OF OT OVOTOUOUONI ON

Bill’s Lonesome Trail......
Bills Quarryercyetuswiee + tes
Bill in’ Deadwood: 2.2...
Bill’s* Pirst: Atay sais. ia os
Bill and Old Moonlight......
Bill Repaid

Bill’s: Throwback. su. doce.
Bills “Sight Unseen”.......
Bills. New) andigees foccccce,
Bills ‘‘Winged Victory’’....
Bill’s Pieces-of-Hight.......
Bill and the Hight Vaqueros
Bill’s Unlucky Siesta....... :

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be obtained direct

from this office.

STREET & SMITH,

Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY