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Copyrsght, 1910, by STREET & SMITH.
NEW YORK, APRIL 2, 1910. Price, Five Cents
Suddenly Little Cayuse rose from the jar. Seizing the alarm clock, he took sure aim, and hurled
it with all his strength. It struck the vaquero, and dropped him like a log.
=
—_ -
t os §
Uigeg + : * *
‘ ;
he? ).
was the sullen response.
“Was Silva here when my pard_ came into the house ?”.
“Perhaps.” “
“Are there any more of the vaqueros it in Phoenix ?’
“How do I know?”
“Tickle his ribs with the point of a bowie, pard,’” sug-
gested Wild Bill. “I reckon he won’t give you so many
perhapses, and that he’ Il know more.”
ee
Sud-
Running out behind the,
ome
~ Mexican,
THE BUFFALO
“Better,” said the scout, tipping his pard a covert wink,
“that you shoot him if he won’t answer and tell what he
knows. You fire when I give the word.”
“Right-o.. When you lift your right hand over your
head, compadre, I'll blaze away. Then the greaser won’t
answer any more questions for anybody.”
The man was leaning sullenly against the wall, his
arms folded. A sort of tremor ran through him, how-
ever, at the fierce talk of the pards.
“Was Silya here?’ demanded the scout crisply.
“He was,’ came promptly from the man.
_ “Did you. know that he was going to the hotel to use
fie, taddere
“T did not.”
“Did he come back from the hotel ?”
oe dd
“Was he here in this house when you admitted my
pard?” i *
one .
“In, the back room?’
The Mexican nodded.
“And you kept my pard here while Silva got away?”
“T did what I could.”
“You did a-plenty,”
chagrin-
“Where did Silva go?”
“On_a fleet horse into the hills.”
“To rejoin the rest of the vaqueros?”
“T suppose that was it.”
“You came into town with him ?”’
Say
“When ?”’
“This afternoon.”
“You were following Clayton-Pierce ?”
The scout’s knowledge seemed to causé surprise in the
Mexican.
“We have been following the Englishman, yes.”
TW hay 2)
“Yo. discover where he hid the Panama silver. He
knows where it is, and we are to get it.”
“You'll never get it, muchacho,’ grinned Wild Bill,
“neither you nor Ramon.”
“The others will get it, then,’
chimed in Wild Bill, with some
3
came defiantly from the
“Maybeso, but I wouldn’t bank any too heavy on it.”
“Where are the rest of the vaqueros?” asked the scout.
“Tn the hills,” was the indefinite reply.
“In what part of the hills?”
“Eivery-part. ‘They stay where it is: safest for them
to stay.” ,
“You and Silva, didn’t,” interpolated Wild Bill. . “If
you'd had a healthy regard for your scalps you'd not be
in this fix now. |
The scout turned to the Laramie man.
“Take this fellow, over to the jail, Hickok,”
“I reckon you can manage it.”
“l-reckon 1 can,” was “the erim answer.
“I’m going back to the hotel. You come there as
soon as you have landed this vaquero in the cell with
Ramon.”
“Pronto!:
Thereupon the scout, deeply disappointed,
said: he.
left the
-hoyse of Garcia and hurried back toward the hotel.
BIL SUR iS.
CHAPTER V1.
HARD LUCK.
By an afterthought, Buffalo Bill stepped, into the
courthouse, on his way to the hotel, and asked. the
sheriff to have men search the town for vaqueros. The
sheriff got busy at once, and before the scout left two
or three deputies had already started the hunt.. Although
the scout did not dream of it at the time, yet this was
to have disagreeable results for the Laramie man.
At the hotel the scout found that Preston Clayton-
Pierce had secured.a doctor to look after his brother’s
case. The doctor’s name was McKelvy, and he was sup-
posed to be the best practitioner in the town: Hector
McKelvy, M. D., had very pronounced opinions, and was
not at all backward in asserting them.
When the scout got into the room, McKelvy was sit-
ting in a chair by the bedside, one finger poked through
th® ropes about the demented man’s wrists, and his eyes
on the convulsed face of the patient. :
Preston, sat. near, watching anxiously. Old Nomad
was at a little distance, tilted back against the wall in
a chair. Cayuse, presumably, was in the baron’s room.
“What luck, Buffler?” asked the trapper.
“None,” answered the scout. “That greaser was Silva,
but he’s, got away. We tracked the fellow to Garcia’s
old hang-out, and captured one of the vaqueros there,
but we couldn’t get hold of Silva. 1 left Wild Bill to
take the prisoner to the jail.”
“Pizen luck,” snorted Nomad. “Ther sawbones, over
.thar, ain’t got nothin’ reassurin* ter say erbout Archi-
bald.”
_How do you find him, doctor?
“Raving lunatic,’ answered the doctor.
temperature high, ‘respiration above normal.
dition following nervous excitement.”
“You’ve heard the circumstances?”
“T’ve got them from the gentleman here, and that old
rawhide over there in the chair.”
“What do-you think of them?”
“Poppycock! Who ever heard of a man going off the
handle every day the clock strikes four ?. Any one who'd
believe that is crazier than this man on the bed.”
‘But he did lose his reason when the clock struck
four,” said the scout.
“Yes, and he’d have lost his wits just the same if the
clock had struck fourteen. You don’t mean to say that
you take any stock in that ,wild-and-woolly supposition,
Buffalo Bill?”
“IT don’t know what to take stock in.
the man any?’
~“No. I can give him an opiaté to stop his struggles
99
asked the scout.
“Pulse high,
Usual con-
Can you help
and his ravings, but that wouldn’t help him any.”
“He'll come out of that condition before long. The
spells don’t last.”
“They don’t, eh? How do you know?”
The doctor pulled his finger out from between the —
cords of Archibald’s wrist and leaned back in his chair.
“We know, ’*said the scout, “because he was per-
fectly rational when he came into this room at half-past
thitee.
“Bosh! He wasn’t rational. You may have thought
he was, but- he wasn’t. Is a man rational when he puts
on a lot of ragged toggery like that and comes crowhop-
ping into a civilized community ?”
10
Reaching forward, the doctor snatched at the broken
monocle and tore it from the black cord.
“That's a plaything for a.sane man, ain't it?’ he
gibed, holding up the broken glass. “My soul, Cody,
what are you thinking about? Why, you had this fel-
low in town, here, less than a week ago—-had him tied
to this same bed, and he was fighting his ropes and ray-
ing just as he is now. That wasn’t the fourth of the
month, nor the eighth, was it? But he was crazy,
wasn't he?”
THE BUFFALO
~ “He wasn’t crazy then, doctor,” parried the scout. “He
was playing a part.”
“Don’t tell me! What good would it do him to play
such a part? If he played such a part then, on the
other hand,-why shouldn’t he be playing it now? You're
dealing with a crazy man, and you’ve been dealing with
a crazy man ever since you met up with this big fel-
low. That’s my opinion.”
“Could you tell whether Clayton-Pierce’s present cgn-
dition is caused by drugs?” queried the scout.
“No. drtigs,’ answered the doctor decisively. “You
can tell that by looking at his eyes.”
“Then if he should come out of this i
“He won’t come out of it.” : A
“But, if he should, and began to talk rationally you
wouldn’t believe that his brain had cleared?”
“Certainly I wouldn’t!. If he seemed to come out of
it, I should know that it was only another stage of his
dementia. To my notion, Buffalo Bill; this man hasn’t
been right a moment since he reached this country and
began playing the wild man in the mountains north of
town. Look at the common-sense side of it. Here’s a
man born into all the luxuries that make life worth while;
he belongs to the aristocracy’—there was a sneer in the
doctor’s voice and he shot a withering glance at Preston
——“‘and has a title and estates in England.
“Ts it reasonable to suppose that ‘such a man, coddled
by everything that money can buy and. looked after by
a valet, should cut loose from it all, wear a pantherskin
coat, carry a stone hammer, and. live on niggerhead
cactus and mesquite beans away off from the haunts of
men? Just turn that over in your mind!”
“Grief has caused many a man to act in the same
Wey) :
“Not in the same way! I defy you to point out a
single case where the loss of a wife and son has caused
any man to make a cave dweller out of himself and live
like they used to live in the stone age.”
“But his grief may have broken his mind and
The doctor cackled triumphantly.
‘Now you’re coming right around to the point!’ he
ered. “Grief made him crazy. That’s why he came out
here, that’s why he stayed out here,.and that’s why he
lived like a wild beast. And that’s why he is as we see
him now. Crazy brains are cunning brains, and one
mania may take different forms. He’s raving now. Pos-
sibly he’ll quit that and look and talk like a rational man;
33
but, if he does, he'll be doing it for a purpose—a mad, —
brainless purpose of his own.”
“Then,” put in Preston, “you don’t think any cre-
dence is to be placed on what he told us here this after-
noon ?”
~ “Not a particle. He had some crazy object in view.
The maundering about the “fwice-four’ puzzle proves
he was daft. He-was working some scheme. When he-
heard the clock begin to. strike four, he played off on
o
BILL STORIES.
you. If*you had told him it was only three o'clock, he
would have kept his wits for an hour longer.”
Preston gave the scout a helpless look.
Buffalo Bill, passing to the bedside, looked down into
the eyes of Archibald Clayton-Pierce. The eyes were
rolling frightfully, but the scout thought he saw a va-
grant appeal in their depths—a silent supplication that
the scout should not be swerved by the doctor’s plausible
talls.
“T’ll have to disagree with you, Dr. McKelvy,” said
the scout, whirling away from the bedsidew “I have
been with the man more than you, and I have had better
opportunity to study him when he seems lucid. I can’t
disbelieve the story he told us. There’s a “Twice-four’
puzzle here, and the secret of it lies in the hills.” .
“Of course,’ snapped McKelvy, “1 don’t care what
you believe. My faith is grounded in science, and yours
is the by-guess-and-by-gosh faith of the man with a big
heart awho shuts his eyes to the evidence and takes a
- whole lot for granted. Lay out your course and follow
it. You'll find at the end that you have your trouble
for your pains; and that the “Twice-four’ puzzle is
merely a kink of a diseased brain.”
Preston, with a helpless shake of the head, removed
a small gold case from his pocket and took out a ciga-
rette. Lighting the brief “smoke,’ he got to his feet
and took a turn up and down the room.
“There are too many details about this case, doctor,
that are susceptible of proof, and that have been proved,”
pursued the scout. :
“Tell me about ’em,’’ returned the doctor.
“Well, there were eight daggers transfixing eight
pieces of parchment in the level of the old turquoise
mine. where I first found Clayton-Pierce.”
ble. (put jem. there,” averred: the doctor,
some crazy whim or other.’
“T brought those eight scraps of paper away and found
that they formed a sort of dissected puzzle. When they
were put together they gave the location of a cache
where eight kegs of Spanish silver were hidden.”
The doctor rocked in his chair and chuckled with
suppressed mirth.
‘And you, knowing
try; (believed: that f” .
“Tlow do-you account for the Spanish writing on
the scraps?’’ demanded the scout, a little nettled.
“Clayton-Pierce put it there. Crazy whim,”
“But the pieces bore evidence of great agé.
the writing was faded, and :
“Seven years in an old mine would fade any writing.”
“But the cache was found, together with eight empty
kegs.”
“Sure. Why not? The kegs weren’t full of Spanish
silver, were they? Clayton-Pierce could get the kegs
easily enough, but filling them with silyer was another
matter. Caprice, Cody! The caprice of a man who
hadn’t the least notion what he was doing. Clayton-
Pierce has made fools of all of you.”
“No!” cried Preston, whirling on the doctor,
the story of that Panama silver came from an ancient
book in the British Museum. The location of the cache
was copied from it and sent to.my brother. This is
something that can be proved.”
“Well?” returned McKelvy, undisturbed. “So much
for the yarn. Your brother furnished the rest of the
details.” and-——_’ f
Lit Was
so much as you do of this coun-
Some of
BOR!
Sit,
THE BUFFALO
Just then the door opened and Wild Bill came in. His ,
clothes were torn, and he was holding a reddened hand-—
kerchief to a cut on theside of his cheek.
“Waugh!” cried the startled Nomad, jumping up.
“What’s ther matter with you, Hickok?”
SOn, nothing, nothing at all,” answered the Laramie
man wearily. ‘“‘Just_a case of too many vaquero clothes
and too many deputy sheriffs, along with about half an
hour of the rottenest luck I ever jumped into.”
“Where’s the prisoner?’ asked the scout.
“At this moment, Pard Cody, the prisoner is pursuing
“his untrammeled way toward the distant hills; or, if he
isn’t, he ought to be.. Oh, by gorry, what a rannikaboo
they ran in on me!”
Wild Bill laughed a little as he dropped down on the
cot near the foot of the bed.
CHAPTER Vit
“TQ HELP THE EARL!”
A look of deep concern crossed the scout’s face.
“T couldn’t help what happened, Pard Cody,” said
Wild Bill, noticing the scout’s expression. “A couple
of dunder-headed deputy sheriffs were indirectly respon-
sible for it; but’—and here a broad grin came to his
face, “you, yourself, was the one mainly responsible.”
“How was that?” asked Buffalo Bill.
“Didn’t you tell the sheriff to send out his deputies -
and rake the town for vaqueros?”
ONES?
“Well, you didn’t explain, did you, that I was mas-
querading in the Mexican quarter in vaquero clothes?”
“By Jupiter!” exclaimed the scout, the true inward-
ness of the situation dawning upon him.
“And there you are!” exclaimed Wild Bill. “I was
just leaving the Mexican quarter with my prisoner when
two deputies, who didn’t know me from Adam, made
a surround. I tried to explain that I was Wild Bill,
and that the vaquero was my prisoner, but the vaquero
put in a word against me and told the officers that I
was one of the gang. I didn’t have my man tied, but
the hand in my pocket was holding a revolver, and the
prisoner knew the point of the weapon was always in
his direction. Those sap-heads of deputies got my
dander up, and when one of them tried to lay hold of
me I began using my fists. The other deputy joined in,
and when we had it rough and tumble for a few min-
utes, a man came along who knew the deputy sheriffs
and knew me. He explained; then, when we turned
around to look after the. prisoner, we found that he
had hit the high places. I’m to blame, pard. I should
have allowed the officers to arrest me, walked with them
and the vaquero to the sheriff’s office, and then have
rung in the explanations. My temper has too much
touch-and-go in it, however, and I began using my fists
before I tookgtime to think. What’s worrying your”
‘Silva has escaped,” said the scout, “and he made his
getaway after listening to some of our talk in this room.
That was bad enough, as he will carry some of our plans
to the vaqueros; now, since the other man has escaped,
the situation becomes worse. The man at Garcia’s will
let the vaqueros know that we are after the gang again,
and the scoundrels will take pains to fight shy of us
o
BMT STORIES. Il
when we get into the hills. i’m not blaming you, Pard
Hickok——”’
“That’s your style, Buffalo Bill,” broke in the Laramie
man. ‘You never find any fault with your pards. I
know, though, that I’m the ombray that made the false
play. If I had worked it differently at Garcia’s we
might have captured Silva; and if I hadn’t been so
quick with my fists, the other man wouldn’t have given
us the slip. The deputies are looking for’ the fellow,
but it’s a cinch they won’t get him. However,’ and
Wild Bill’s face assumed a knowing look, “I have a plan
for undoing both misplays.” :
“What is: ite?
“TH tell you later. ‘What do you propose to do next?
“Before I announce my plan, I want the doctor to
tell you what he has just told me about Archibald.” The
scout turned to McKelvy. “Go ahead, doctor.”
McKelvy explained that, according to his best knowl-
edge and opinion, Archibald Clayton-Pierce was a mad-
man and had been mentally incompetent ever since he
reached that part of Arizona; and that nothing he had
said, while in his seemingly lucid moments, was to be
relied on.
Wild Bill drew a deep breath.
“That’s only your opinion, doc?’ inquired Wild Bill.
McKelvy felt the touch of the words, rather in Wild
Bill’s manner of saying them than in the words them-
selves.
Bi speak,
science,’
“ATé you an expert on diseases of the mind?”
“T may say that I am.’
“Well, you haven’t any objection to our holding an
opinion of our own, have you?”
~ Las responsible for my own opinion, Mr.
and not yours.
“Then I want to go on record as saying that our un-
fortunate friend is, judging from my own lights, as sane
at times as any of us. ‘There’s something in this “Twice-
four’ puzzle of his, and I’m for working it out the best _
we can. Even if Archibald Clayton-Pierce is locoed all
the time, and passed us a cock-and-bull story when he
???
Sir; ‘said he, from’ the’ viewpoint oF
Hickok,
_ referred to that puzzle, I’d be for giving him the benefit
of the doubt. He has proved himself a loyal friend of
Pard Cody’ s—and a friend of Cody’s is a friend of his
pards.
“Personally, I can’t look at Clayton-Pierce, lying on
the bed as he is at this minute, without feeling a whole
lot of sympathy for him. Big and strong as he is, an
unbalanced mind makes him worse than a human wreck.
From motives of humanity alone, if we were in no other
way beholden to him, I should be for running out the
trail of that ‘Twice-four’ puzzle. Anything, everything,
to help the earl!”
This was good talk from Wild Bill.
appreciated it, especially the scout.
“That’s spoken like a. man, anyway,” grudged the
doctor, “but if nothing comes of this trail you are go-
ing to run out—don’t blame me.”
“We are obliged to you for your opinion, doctor,”
said the scout. “You'll look after our friend while we're
away?”
“Certainly I will. I can see my duty, as well as Mr.
Hickok. Besides, this case has its points of interest
for a medical man, and I consider myself favored for _
All the pards
’
&
my name out of the list, Mr. Hickok;
Ly THE BUFFALO
having been called in.
are intending to do?”
“We shall start for the hills,
morrow morning, to find Silva.” |
“And ther Panama loot,” struck in the old trapper.
“Don't leave thet out, pard. We're goin’ ter diskiver
them both. I got er feelin’ in my bones thet we aire.”
“You'll never find the Panama loot,” insisted the doc-
tor doggedly, “for I maintain that it has had no ex-
istence outside the crazy brain of» Archibald Clayton+
Pierce. And suppose you do capture Silva? He is
only an ignorant vaquero—a driver of. cattle—a man
who knows no more about diseases of the mind than—
than that little Piute pard of yours. -Where do you in-
tend to go in prosecuting this large order you have taken
for yourselves?”
“To the old turquoise mine,” answered the scout.
“On the way there we will stop at the mountain rendez-
vous of the Eight Vaqueros.”
“Well, I wish you luck, and that’s all I can say. [Il
add,” McKelvy finished sourly, “that I’m wishing you
more than I know you'll get. That’s your affair, though,
and not mine. Don’t fail to leave enough men here to
take care of the patient, Buffalo Bill.”
Old Nomad began to grow apprehensive, at that, fear-
ing the scout would select him for’ one of Archibald’s
guard.
“Noten tl doy ter ouardic)) said the trapper.” “The
baron’s maimed his ankle, an’ I reckon all he’s good
fer is ter stay with Nolan.”
“Go and find Nolan, Nick,” said the scout. “Hickok,
you and Preston stay here with Archibald. ll drop
in on the baron and tell him what’s expected of him.”’
“Then Nomad, Cayuse, and, I are to ride with you,
pard?” asked Wild Bill.
ENR OSh
“Buenos! i I wasn’t along, you see, I wouldn’t be
able to carry out the scheme I’ve framed up in my mind.
Get back with Nolan as soon as you can, Nick, for I
want to get out and make my preparations.”
“What sort er preparations, Hickok?” queried the mys-
tified trapper.
‘“Manana to that, old pard,” laughed Wild Bill.
tell you about it later.’
“I’m to go with you,’
bright and early to-
“TH
) spoke tp Preston, “You deit
but it’s under-
stood that I’m to go along, isn’t it, Buffalo Bill?”
The scout nodd ed,
“You said we were to start early,
“Shall we say nine o’clock?”
Old Nomad almost dropped over a chair.
“Sufferin’ wildcats!” he exclaimed. “Is thet what ye
call airly? We'll hey mornin’ chuck at five a, m., an’ be
on ther trail by six. Hey, Buffler?”
‘By six, pard?’ said ‘the ‘scout,
“Oh, but say, you know!” came from Preston. “Well,”
he added, steeling himself to the emergency, “I hope
some one. will call me in time to get into my riding
togs.’
“Thet’s
pyertite.”
‘The trapper went out, muttering disgustedly to him-
self. Buffalo Bill followed him into the hall and then
turned into the baron’s room. The place fairly reeked
with a smell of arnica. The Dutchman was sitting in a
9
went on Preston.
my job,’ said’ Nomad: ~Fll call ye, all
_ chair, his ankle swathed in bandages and lying on an-
May I ask what you gentlemen |
' Englishman smiled,
DiLl STORIES.
other chair, Little Cayuse was just putting away the
arnica bottle. The baron groaned in heaviness of spirit
as the scout came in.
“Don’d do nodding for a veek, bard,» begged the
baron. “By der time dot a veek has shlipped avay, I'll
be retty to rite some more.’
There was a prolonged Dutch wail when the scout
announced a start for the following morning, explained
the details of the case, and informed the baron that he
and Nolan were to look after Archibald.
‘Dot’s vat comes by a feller ven he iss too ampitious,”
muttered the baron. “Oof I hatn’t peen m sooch a
hurry to gapture dot vaquero feller, den, py shinks! I
vou ldn't, haf hat some game foots.- Vell, vat a luck,
anyvay.
“Cheer up, baron!” cried the scout, giving him a
“Standing guard over
hearty slap on the shoulder.
You and Nolan
Clayton-Pierce is a responsible position.
must hang to him at all costs.”
CHAPTER: Vitti;
WILD BILL’S SURPRISE.
Old Nomad knocked on Preston’s door at four o'clock
in the mornins—robbing himself of a little sleep in order
to be around and annoy the Englishman. At five-ten
the scout -and the Laramie man slid into their clothes,
Already Cayuse had got up and gone to the Ranch
Eight corral to personally look after the horses.
By five-thirty Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and old Nomad
descended to the office, on their way to the dining room)
They found Preston Clayton-Pierce waiting for them.
The trapper snorted derisively and walked a circle
around Preston, looking him over.
The Englishmay wore brand-new yellow puttees, thick-
soled, hob. nailed “shoes, wide riding breeches, a” dittle
plaid fore-and-aft cap, and carried a riding crop. In
those togs he was a curiosity for: the trapper.
“Ef ye fall off’n yer hoss, friend,’ commented No-
mad, “yell spile yer clothes.”
Preston was not slow #o perceive the trapper’s dis-
approval.
“Tll lay you two to one in guineas, Mr. Nomad,’ the
“that there’s not a horse in these
parts that can make me fall off his back. And no man,
either !” ,
With that, he ripped open his coat and displayed an
arsenal of short-barrelled, business-like guns, girded
about his middle by a silver-mounted strap.
“I don’t know but ye’ll do,” said Nomad speculatively.
“Somehow, thar seems ter bea gen-oo- ine ring erbout
ye, amigo. But yore idee o’ ridin’ clothes is some
amazin’. *
Cayuse came in at that moment, and they all went
to breakfast. Following breakfast, each with provender
in his war bag, they trailed away for thetgerral. Before
leaving, the scout and Preston went up to have a final
look in on Archibald. He was still as he had been ever
since four o’clock of the preceding day. The baron,
with his bandaged foot, was standing guard with Jack
Nolan
The deputy marshal had a bone to pick with the va-
queros, but he yielded the point gracefully and declared
particle of doubt about that.
~ wing
THE BUFERALO
that he and the baron would answer for the safekeeping |
of Archibald.
At the corral, old Octagon, tlie keeper of the stockade,
led out half a dozen horses in order that Preston might
select one for his own use. The Englishman, with an
unerring eye that did him credit, passed over the best-
looking mounts and chose the homeliest Roman-nosed
cayuse in the lot—and the one with the most speed and
bottom.
“Waugh!” exclaimed the trapper. ‘Preston, ye’re
sartinly a jedge o’ hoss flesh. Ef them baggy trousers
an them yaller leggins don’t bother ye too much when
ye’re in the saddle, I’d almost bet money ye kin ride as
well as pick out er hoss.”
And the Englishman could ride. There was not a
But it was a fearsome at-
tiude he took in the saddle. His knees were crooked,
_@his body was bowéd forward, and his elbows were raised
high,
@ Thunder an’ kerry one!” laughed Nomad. “Ye look,
Preston, like er bird thet hes jest lit, an’ is kinder on-
decided’ whether ter roost er not. I reckon ye’ll take
when thet thar Roman-nose critter takes ter
buckin’: |
' But Preston did not take wing. The cayuse danced
around the corral.on his hind legs, then tried to throw
a double somersault, but the Englishman was always in
the saddle, knees and elbows up.
“Oh, shucks!” grunted Nomad. “He’d be some shakes
of er rider ef he’d on’y keep his laigs straight in ther
stirrups, same as a white man.”
When Preston’s mount had ‘given over trying to climb
up the side of the corral fence, the party galloped merrily
through the stockade gate and headed into the Cave
Creek trail.
The pards had gone over this ead so many times that
it was familiar to them. It would be twenty-four hours
before they reached’ the vaqueros’ mountain hang-out,
and forty-eight before they came tothe old turquoise
mine, Knowing this, they nursed their horses along
past the itrigation canal and into the desert.
The sun, when it rose, shot up over the eastern hills
like an orange seed snapped by unseen fingers. One
moment it was dawn and the next moment it was day.
The operations of nature are very sudden in the South-
western country.
As the sun mounted toward the zenith the heat in-
creased fiercely. Preston, unusued to the furnace-like
air of the desert, began to wilt somewhat. He did not
carry his elbows so high, and he fell back from his
strained position. By ten o’clock he was letting out his
Stirrup straps so that his knees could drop and his legs
rest more comfortably in the stirrups.
“I'd give a sov,” said he, “if we could crack a bottle
of brown beer just now.”
The water in his canteen was hot, and the brackish
fluid hardly palatable.
“That would be the worst thing you could do,”
the scout..
“I’m all of a muck of sweat,’ he went on, eae off
his coat and hanging it to the saddle horn.
“Which is right and. proper,”
“When a man refuses to sweat in this country, it’s a
sure sign he’s in for a touch of the sun.”
“When we get across this desert,’ said the scout,
said
returned Wild Bill. -
BILL STORIES. ‘3
“well lay by ata spring we know about, and take up the
trail after sundown.”
“Don’t do anything out of mistaken kindness for me,’
Preston begged. “If I can’t take whatever comes just
as you do, [’m willing to go back.”
“Thet’s ther tork, pard!” cried Nomad. “Ye'll do.
When I fust seen ye, with thet winder-glass in yer eye,
I had my doubts; but now I want ter say thet I’m gam-
blin’ yell be in with us at ther finish,”
“I have a feeling, somehow,” said Preston, “that this
is going to be a black business, wild as Newgate- let-
loose, but Well, in for a lamb, in for a sheep. I
want to do all I can for that poor brother of mine.”
Two hours later the party rounded to at the spring,
took care of their horses and hunted a patch of shade.
As soon as they were comfortably settled, they raided
their haversacks.
Then, for the first time since the sun’s heat had be-
come so oppressive, Preston began to take a little com-
fort. The water from the spring was clear and tolerably
cool, and the ride had given him an appetite like a
hunter.
Following lunch, Wild Bill got up an untied from
his saddle cantle a mysterious bundle that had accom- :
panied him from Phoenix.
“Excuse me, pards,” said he.
the rocks for a spell.”
“What fer?” demanded Nomad.
“To fix up my little surprise. Give me ten minutes.’
“Don't get in the sun, Hickok,” cautioned Preston.
“If you do, it’s long odds that you catch fire.”
“T’m used to the sun,” grinned Wild Bill. “Adios!”
He waved his hand, and vanished among the bowlders,
the bundle ander his arm.
“What d’ye reckon he’s up ter, pard?” queried the old
tTaPPEY
“Who ever could guess what Wild Bill is up to?” said
the scout. “We'll know, though, before long.”
“When do you expect to begin to find vaqueros ?”
spoke up Preston.
“Not until we get farther into the beeen? an-
swered the scout. “We're a good way from their smug-
glers’ hang-out, and a whole lot farther from the old
turquoise mine.”
“Do you anticipate finding them
Vous: —
“No. I might have expected it if no one had got
away from Phoenix to report that we might be coming;
but, now that the vaqueros are expecting us along, we
can't expect them to wait for us.”
“Onless they lay er ambush, qualified Nomad.
“Ugh!” grunted Cayuse. » Vaqueros no make um
ambush : all same make um vainos.’
“That's what I’m afraid of,’ said the scout. “The
ereasers will try to dodge us.. They: know Archibald
is being held in Phoenix, and there’s not much chance
for them to track down that Panama silver. They'll
try to keep clear of us, I reckon, and it’s that that will
make it difficult for us to bag Silva.”
“T hope * began Preston, but just what he hoped
did not appear.
At that precise moment old Nomad gave a startled
yell and jumped to his feet. A figure had appeared
from between the rocks—a nondescript figure wearing a
battered high hat, a torn and frayed frock coat, ragged
trousers, brown spats clinging to its ankles, and the old,
“T’m going off among
at their rendez-
tA oe THE BUFFALO
worn gauntlets used by the baron on the preceding day
on its hands. An unkempt black beard and straggling
locks of long hair framed in the face of the figure.
“Archibald! exclaimed Preston, starting up, the ciga-
rette he. was smoking falling from his teeth.
eo Archibald, Preston,e said the scout, ’but Wild
i ny
A queer look crossed Preston’s face—a look that
slowly gave way to indignant wrath and protest.
“Why is he mimicking my brother?’ demanded Pres-
ton. “What right has he to hold Archibald up to ridi-
cule?”
“Don’t be face ’ said the scout. “This is not an ill-
timed joke, Preston. Don’t judge Wild Bill before you
hear what he has to say.”
Wild Bill came grinning into the spot of shade where
his companions had pitched their camp.
“What do you think of this for a get-up?” he asked.
“Good,” said the scout, “but what’s the use of it?”
“Why?” explained Wild Bill, “I got the notion while
Preston, there, was suggesting that, if his brother was
turned loose, he might lead the way to the treasure cache
and trail the vaqueros along behind him. Of course I
can’t find the Panama silver, but if the greasers think
I’m Archibald they may follow me and so give the rest
of you a chance to get hands on Silva. Do you catch
‘my meaning, compadres?”
Wild Bill’s surprise, and the purpose back of it, was
instantly understood. All resentment faded from Pres-
ton’s face.
“Deuced clever, that’s what I call it,’ he declared,
“put you’re taking no end of chances with your life,
Hickok.”
“To help the earl,” said Wild Bill. “I’d,do more than
this to accomplish a piece of work like that.”
s
CHAPTER IX.
STARTING THE GAME,
“Your scheme,” said Buffalo Bill, “is to take a pasear
through the hills. The greasers will be watching for
Clayton-Pierce. When they see you in that get-up,
they will think you are the.man they want; then they
will follow you at a distance, in the hope that you will
lead them to the place where the silver is cached. Is
that the idea, Wild Bill?”
“That’s the notion,” returned the Laramie man. “Do
you see anything wrong with it?”
“No, unless it is that the vaqueros have scattered so
that it will be impossible for you to show yourself to
them. Silva.and the other Mexican must have brought
the gang word, long ‘before that, that Archibald is a
prisoner in Phoenix. The vaqueros may give up hope
when they hear that.”
“T don’t reckon they'll get so far away, pard, but that
some of them will be able to see me. If I fool them,
they'll naturally think that the big fellow escaped, just
as he did once before.”
_“Let’s suppose, Hickok, that the greasers see you,
that they think you are Clayton-Pierce, and that they
take your trail, What is the rest of the scheme?”
“Some of my pards are to watch the trail and fol-
low the vaqueros.”
“Where will you lead the vaqueros?”
BILL. STORIES.
“T’ll lead them to the old turquoise tunnel, then I'll
go into the mine.”
“The Mexicans won't follow you.
old mine is muy malo for Mexicans.”
“Keno! I get away from them by going into the
tunnel, see? The Mexicans will stay at the mouth of
the tunnel, just as they stayed once before when they
drove you into the mine. While they’re hanging around,
waiting for me te come out, you and the rest of our
pards, “Buffalo Bill, can make a surround.”
“I understand,” said the scout. “It may ee but
the business is hedged around with a good many con-
tingencies. When do you start the game?”
“Well, we'll get to the cabin in the gully some time
before morning. I don’t believe I'd better start the
game until daylight, and until I find out how things are
at the rendezvous.” :
SA right, pard.” \ &
Preston expressed unqualified approval of the plan.
He was delighted to think that a suggestion of his had —
given Wild “Bill the idea.
Old Nomad, also, was very complacent over the pros-
pect. There was a chance of warm work coming’ out
of Hickok’s. proceedings, and anything in-that line was
always agreeable to the old trapper.
Little Cayuse, as usual, did not express hiwieele one
way or other. He glided noiselessly abowt the camp,
keeping a close eye on the horses and the surrounding
hills, grim, silent, wary, and ready for whatever was to
come, :
At sundown the pards resumed their journey. They
did not hurry, but made their way through the bleak up-
lifts at a leisurely pace.
A little after midnight they reached the gully which
contained the spring. Near the spring the adobe ren-
dezvous was situated?
Pecout ahead, Nick,’ said the scout, as the party
halted a mile from the cabin, ‘ and find out what the sit-
uation is at the smugglers’ roost.”
“On ther jump, pard,’ answered the trapper, gad
rode up the gully, vanishing from sight in the dusky
chaparral. —
They think the
The rest of the party dismounted while they waited. -
“What sort of a place is this cabin, gentlemen?” in-
quired Preston.
“Rummiest place you ever saw,’ replied: Wild Bill.
“Lots of comfort to be got out of the‘place—and a whole
lot of unpleasantness, too, if you don’t know the ropes.
“That’s a bit over my head.
“What Wild Bill means to say, Preston,” put in the
scout, “is that the adobe house is far more comfortable
than you’d expect to find in such a waterless wilderness
as this. We have been there several times, finding a
good place to stay and a well-filled larder. But “the
hang-out was used by the vaqueros for their smuggling
operations, and there’s a very neat trap in the floor
which will drop a man onto a slide and shoot him into
an underground chamber which automatically locks him
up. I was'taken care of in that way, and it was your
brother who released me.”*
An interested look \crossed the Englishman's face.
“Deuced romantic, gentlemen,” said he. “I always-like
a yarn that’s filled with underground passages, secret
*See No. 463 of the Burrato Birt Stories, “Buffalo Bill and
the Eight Vaqueros; or, The Men of Con Armas Blancas.”
Pray,
aes
a,
=
the adobe hang-out before they go.
THE BUFFALO
cellars, and dungeons, and all that.
queros make use of such claptrap ?”’
“For making a quick getaway in case the customs, of-
ficers got after them,” said Wild Bill. ‘Also, I suppose,
Why did the va-
they hid their smugeled Chinamen in the’ underground
places, as well as other material that failed to pay duty.
We're acquainted with the trap in the floor and the au-
tomatic prison chamber, but there’s another secret way
of getting out of the house which we haven’t had ex-
plained tous.) iE hope the greasers won't be around to
spring that on us.’
“T’ve a notion,’ hazarded the scout, ‘that Nomad will
find the smugglers’ roost a ruin. The vaqueros under-
stand that we know a good deal about the place, and
it seems reasonable to suppose _ that they have de-
stroyed it.”
“They'll not destroy it as long as they’re compelled
to hang around in these hills,” averred Wild. Bill,
“They've got to have a place to go to. If they get the
Panama silver, and are able to hike for Sonora, 1 think
they'd use the torch on the roost, all right—but not till
then.)
“Perhaps you're right,’ said the scout.
A few minutes later, old Nomad reappeared through
the gloom.
“All clear, pards!” he announced.
- No one at the’ hang-out?”
ye Nary a2 soul.”
“The house’ all right?’
“Looks ter be jest like et was when we left et the other
time we was hyar. I reckon ther greasers hev skipped
fer good.”
“Not for good, Nick,’ disagreed the scout. “When
the vaqueros leave this country to stay, they’ll wipe out
Mount and ride,
pards.”
The scout and his friends climbed back into their
saddles and proceeded up the gully. A little water-
course, fed by the spring, ran through the gully, This
was lined with mesquite bushes. In and out of this chap-
arral moyed the horsemen, coming gradually closer to
the house. :
The hang-out was dark and deserted.
though pleased at the condition of affairs,
warily in order to avoid a possible trap.
The horses were picketed close to the adobe, near
enough to the bushes so that they could feed on the
mesquite beans, and near enough to the water so that
they could reach it without breaking tether.
Cayuse, who had ears and eyes sharp as a coyote’s,
was put in charge of the horse-herd. His post was out-
side the cabin.
Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, Nomad, and Preston went into
the house. They found the door unlocked.
The Laramie man struck a match and lighted a candle.
As the feeble glow blazed up and tlispelled the gloom,
Preston chuckled and began tubbing his hands.
“This is comfort, and no mistake,” he remarked, drop-
ping down on a couch. “After a ride like we’ve had,
The scout, al-
proceeded
the cool of the night and a comfortable place to stay, is
mighty grateful.”
The ticking of a clock resounded in the quiet room.
“Ah!” exclaimed the scout, stepping toward the man-
tel over the corner fireplace and pointing to a tin time-
piece,
“That’s a twenty-four-hour clock, and it’s run-
BILL STORIES. : fs
ning. That means, compadres, that some one has been
in this | house not very long ago.’
Whe aqueros!” declared. Wild Bill
“Hev they skinned out fer keeps, er not?” asked the
trapper.
“a hey won't leave for keeps, Nick,’ declared the
Laramie man, “until they get the Panama silver and
destroy this neat little stamping ground of theirs. We'll
give ’em a whirl in the morning.’
Owing to the secret doors and underground ap-
proaches to‘ the cabin, Buffalo Bill thought it well to
post a guard inside the place as well as outside.
The watch, for the rest of the night, was shared by
him, Nomad and Wild Bill: Two ‘hours sentry duty,
watch and watch about, brought daylight.
With the first dawn Nomad and Wild Bill searched
the larder and found plenty of food. No fire was lighted,
however, as the smoke from the chimney would have
betrayed the presence of the pards. Cold food was
served, and over the breaktast the Laramie man finished
his plan for the day’se work.
It was agreed that Wild Bill, on foot, should start
into the hills, playing the role of Clayton-Pierce. Nomad
and Preston were to follow him cautiously and-at a long
distance, hoping that some of the vaqueros would dtop
in behind Wild Bill.
If this ruse succeeded, then Hickok was to fead the
vaqueros to the mouth of the old turquoise mine. While
the vaqueros waited at the entrance to the tunnel, Nomad
-was to come back to the house after Buffalo: Bill and
Cayuse. Following this, an attack was to be made on
the vaqueros in force.
If only two or three of the Mexicans trailed Wild
Bill, then Nomad and Preston were ‘to attack ‘them with-
out sending for the scout and the Pinte.
The two. latter were to stay near the cabin, so that if
any vaqueros happened to come there they might be
taken care of.
“Here's where the game “starts,” laughed Wild Bill,
standing in front of the cabin for a moment while the
trapper and the Englishman were getting ready their
horses.
“Look to yourself, pard!’’ warned the scout.
“You never saw the time when I didn’t do that, Pard
Cody,” was the response. “Here we go!”
Wild Bill strode off up the gully, and vanished. “A
few minutes later, Nomad and ‘Preston rode after him.
The Englishman was filled with pleasant anticipations of
excitement, and the trapper’s feelings matched his. As
soon as the party had disappeared, Buffalo Bill went
back into the house.
CHAR THis x,
THE: SIESTA,
While Cayuse continued to remain outside and watch
the three horses that still remained in the chaparral, Buf-
falo Ball busied himself by making an examination of
the trap in the floor, and the slide below it.
The trap was worked by pushing down on the mantel
of the corner fireplace. The moment this was done, the
trap dropped. It was arranged to spring back into place
again as soon as relieved of the weight it had trans-
ferred to the she. The scout, however, wedged the
“16 . THE BUFFALO
trap open with a stool, lowered himself to the slide and
descended it cautiously.
door, he pushed it open and fastened it in that position.
Had it closed, he would have found himself locked in the
- prison chamber.
A candle, table, and chair were in the chamber. Light-
ing the candle he passed to the door that closed in the
chamber at the rear. This door, when locked, was se-
cured by a fastening on the other side. When the scout
and his pards had last visited the place they had left this
door unlocked. ~ )
And thus the scout found it again. -Did this prove
that the vaqueros, although the clock proved that they
had visited the cabin, had not been in. those underground
regions? It might prove that, or it might not.
Passing through the door the scout followed along the
passage until he came to the end of it, where it over-
looked a slope and a defile on the opposite side of the
divide from the gully.
There were no signs of vaqueros to be seen, and noth-
ing to show that they had been éhere recently. After
peering along the defile for a few moments, the scout re-
turned to the prison chamber, ascended the slide and
emerged through the trap. He found Little Cayuse in
the room, staring at the opening in the floor and wonder-
ing, no doubt, if, Pa-e-has-ka had been caught in the
chamber below. ‘
“Ugh!” exclaimed the boy, with intense satisfaction,
as the scout climbed through the trap.
“Did you think I had been caught in that hole down
there again, Cayuse?” laughed’ the scout, wrenching
away the stool and allowing the trapdoor to spring back
into place.
“Me no savvy, Pa-e-has-ka. You see um vaqueros?’
“No. There’s not a greaser in sight,.and there are no
signs to show that they’ve been in the basement recently.”
“Ugh! Vaquero heap cunning, all same fox. What
you do now, huh?”
“Now, Cayuse, I’m going to have a hunt for that other
secret door; but you'd better go back to the horses and
-keep a sharp look-out in all directions. There are seven
of the vaqueros at large, and if the seven should miss
Wild Bill’s trail and find ours we might have a one-
sided fight on our hands.”
“Wuh!” said Cayuse, and went back to the: horses.
For the rest of that morning Buffalo Bill sounded
the mud walls and prodded everything that looked as
though it might be a spring and control a secret mechan-
ism. He was unable to discover the other hidden door.
No vaqueros showed themselves, and a deep peace
reigned in the gully, The horses fed on the mesquite
beans, drank from the little stream, and lolled in the
shade of the bushes, grunting with animal comfort.
._ No report came from the absent party.. The scout,
however, was not expecting a report so soon. Wild
Bill would need time to carry out his ruse, for he was
obliged to proceed on foot, and walking was hafd work
for him.
- When the tin clock on the mantel pointed to the hour
of noon, Buffalo Bill rustled another cold lunch and
called the Piute in to help him eat it.
“Not much fun this grass,’ remarked Cayuse, when he
hac finished eating; “heap tame.(7
“\When things begin to happen,’ returned the scout,
“theyll happen all in a bunch.”
“What Pa-e-has-ka do now?’
Reaching the first autorhatic '
Rit STORIES.
“I’m going to leave the guard duty to you, Cayuse,
and take a siesta.” «ih
“You no find um other trapdoor ?”
“No find um. I’m beginning to doubt its existence.”
Cayuse was worried about that other trapdoor. He
had a superstitious notion that trouble was to come
through it for him and the scout. When he returned to
the horses he was gloomy and preoccupied.
The scout, meanwhile, had stretched himself out on
the couch for his siesta.
The siesta, or midday doze, is a very useful custom
of the hot countries. It gives a person a refreshing rest
during the heat of the day when physical exertions are
unwise. ;
_It was not the scout’s intention to sleep, but merely to
close his eyes and think over the Clayton-Pierce situa-
tion with nothing to bother him or distract his attention.
But he was tired, his sleep had been cut short during
the preceding night, and he was asleep almost before
he knew it. :
And while the scout slept he had a most vivid dream,
No dream he had ever had could compare with the one
that came to him during his siesta, in the smugglers’
rendezvous.
It seemed to him as though he was again entering the
ancient tunnel that led to the old turquoise mine.
Everything stood out plainly before his sleeping vision.
He carried no candle with him into the mine, and no
other means for lighting his way, yet, with the weird
contradiction of all dreams, the tunnel was seen as
clearly as though under the light of broad day.
There, in the days of the Montezumas, Aztecs mined
the royal gems. The scout saw the pathway through the
tunnel, worn deep in solid rock by the bare feet of slaves.
Passing on, he came to the well which led downward
from the upper tunnel to the one below. A notched pole
reared itself over the edge of the well, and the scout,
with all the airy indifference of dreams,. flung himself
at the pole and slid lightly to the bottom of it.
Once in the lower tunnel, he became aware of the
dread hissing which signalled his approach to that nerve-
wracking phenomenon called “the sliding walls.” -Even
in his sleep his form trembled, for that dream was very
‘real to him.
While, in fancy, he stood in the lower tunnel, a blaze
of letters shone out over his head. They spelled one fiery
word, “unlucky.”
3uffalé Bill, in his vision, paused under the word
and pondered what it could mean. ‘Unable to under-
stand, he pursued his way farther along the lower tunnel.
’ He came, at last, in plain view of the sliding walls.
The hissing grew in his ears until it almost deafened
him. Suddenly the sound stopped, and the wall on each
side of the tunnel began sliding forward. The two
walls met, ground together, and the hoarse crunching of
granite formed the Audible word “unlucky.” The very
walls, rubbing against each other, had -given voice to
the word written in air with burning letters.
The walls, as always, parted and fell back into their
accustomed places. Between them lay eight whitened
skeletons—relics of the Mexicans who, centuries before,
had entered that place of Gehenna in quest of the Pan-
ama silver. x
The scout knew that the walls slid together: once
“every. fifteen minutes. While he stood in the tunnel, in
a ee
n= agua nee agg eects
i
|
%
j
'
|
ee
a
nica Remmi
:
—————
z.
=<
a
“Sometimes,” said the scout reflectively,
foreboding of danger that figures out exactly.
your foreboding at the present time, I might now have
Silva’s dagger between my ribs. Buenos!”
“Wuh, Pa-e-has-ka, buenos!”
“You did not know the Mexican was Silva, Cayuse,
so it is well you did not have the knife. If you had
killed the scoundrel, he would not have been. able to
help us solve this ‘Twice-four’ puzzle.”
The scout and Cayuse lifted the prisoner to the couch.
He had not yet recovered from the shock occasioned by
the sudden turn of events.
“Where did you come from, Silva?” asked the scout,
Silva tried to answer in English but made such hard
work of it that the scout spoke to him in Spanish.
_ “From Phoenix,” said Silva.
“You were spying upon me and my-pards at the hotel?
You were using Ramon’s old ladder to get close to the
open window and hear what was said?”
Silva did not answer. He was beginning to reason
a little, and he realized that the less he said, the better.
“You might as well talk,’ said the scout. “Keeping
silent isn’t going to help your case any.”
“I will say nothing,” blustered Silva.
in the Mexican
quarter, when Wild Bill went in there to look for your”
A triumphant look crossed Silva’s face.
“You got out of Garcia’s old house,
“IT am the leader, now that Ramon is gone,” he an-
swered. “I am as clever as Ramon, and the vaqueros
shall find it out.”
“You'll never be the leader of the vaqueros,” declared
the scout. “We'll take you back to Phoenix with us,
and make you suffer for your crimes on the border, just
as Ramon is to suffer. How would you like to pass the
rest of your life in an Americano jail, eh? Or be hung
from an Americano gallows?”
Silva shivered. The thought was intensely dispiriting.
Noting the impression his words had made, the scout
followed up his advantage, determined to strike while
the iron was hot.
“Theré is a way you can save yourself, Silva,” said
he. “You want your liberty, you want to return to
®
THE BURFALO
Senora.
talk.”
“What shall l say?”
“Answer my questions, but answer them truthfully.
lf you do not speak the truth, I shall know it and will
not carry out my part of the contract.”
“T tell what I know;’ protested Silva,
You will be given your freedom if you will
“and have to
take your word! ee you do not carry out your
promise to let me go?’
“J will carry out the promise. Buffalo Bill’s word is
as good as his bond. “Anyhow, Silva, your one chance
is to do as Task you. You have everything to gain and ~
nothing to lose.”
“What shall I say?”
“Tell me where the other vaqueros are?”
“They are in the hills, five of them, hunting for the
Panama silver.”
“Where is the sixth man?”
“Quien sabé? ‘That will be Enrique.
the other six, and I do not know where he is.”
“Where did you leave the vaqueros?”
“Up. the gully,’®
“When?” .
“An hour since. They sent me to the cabin to make it
ready for them when they came. I saw your horses, I
reconnoitered and saw you on the couch, alone in the
cabin as I thought. Diable! I did not see what was in
the olla. I took off my hat, coat, and shoes, and I stole
in here, con armas blancas. But for the boy, the white
arms would have done their work of revenge. Now I
am caught, and you are driving a bargain with me, but,
sefior——””
“What do you know about the ‘Twice-four’ puzzle ca
cut in the scout, interrupting the useless talk.
_ A sudden look of cunning crossed Silva’s face.
“T know about that!. I-know why the Englishman has
his fits of madness! But you cannot buy the secret from
me unless you pay down silver, old Spanish silver.
oe e
The scout whirled away from the or his face
went white and he staggered.
‘““Pa-e-has-ka!” cried Little Cayuse, startled.
“T think I know the secret!” exclaimed the scout; “I
think I know it, and without a word from Silva. But—
but I may have guessed what it is too late to save Wild
Bill!” 2
The scout’s voice and manner thrilled the little Piute.
“You savvy um, he begged, “then tell Cayuse, so
Cayuse savvy !”
“No ‘time to explain,” answered the scout. “There is
work to be done, and it must be done at once. Cayuse,
vag Silva, take him off into the chaparral and hold him
close. Hide the pinto—I shall take Beary Paw and Wild
Bill’s mount with me. JI am depending on you, boy, to
keep tight grip on Silva!”
He is not with
ase
a ae nr SEAT oe
BILL STORIES. 19
“Wuh!” returned Cayuse.
Picking up his own riding gear and Wild Bili’s from
the corner where it had been thrown, the scout rushed
from the house and ran toward the horses. .
CHAPTER: X11. ,
DIABOLISM AT THE OLD MINE,
Buffalo Bill was no believer in dreams. Destiny, ac-
cording to his theory, worked itself out with relentless
secrecy, allowing mortals no hint of coming events. But
that dream he had had during his siesta had made a
powerful impression on him.
He felt that his-own vagrant fancies, mixing in weird
combinations while he was asleep, had given him a hint
for the solving of the ‘“Twice-four’’ puzzle. The
thought his dream suggested was this:
Was there some exhalation, in the lower tunnel of
the old turquoise mine, that powerfully disturbed the
brains of human beings?
The scout had been in the mine and his brain had not
been affected. But, then, he had not been in the mine
on the fourth, or the eighth, of the month.
The volcanic powers that seethed below the desert’s
crust most probably explained the action of the sliding
walls. Gases, but little understood by scientific men,
were cast up from the interior of the earth during every
volcanic eruption. Was there not a leakage in the old
mine, at certain times, of a gas which had the power to
unhinge the human mind?
Archibald Clayton-Pierce had lived in the old tur-
quoise mine, This, of course, would subject him to the
influence of the sense-destroying vapors. He had be-
come thoroughly impregnated with the gases, and they
had sapped his reason. .
Yet, if that were so, how was it that’he was not de-
mented all the time instead of only part of the time?
Was Doctor McKelvy right? Could it be possible that
Archibald Clayton-Pierce was locoed permanently, and
that he had no lucid intervals?
The scout could not believe this. Archibald had
spoken of the “Twice-four’ puzzle; and that puzzle,
whatever it was, seemed more and more to have a foun-
dation in fact. An insane person is not dwelling upon
facts, especially facts of such a complex-nature as those
involved in this so-called puzzle.
“No, the scout was positive that the earl was locoed
only part of the time. His manias, it seemed, were coin-
cident with the rushing forth of the gases in the old
mine. Suppose they flowed from the crevices of the
tunnels on the fourth and the eighth of each month, and
that they began flowing at precisely four o’clock of each
day? There was some sort of sympathetic bond between
nce ges ” And he spread out his hand, and
pressed the palm on the table, as he spoke.
“No, not near so broad.”
“Something like this, then? And he narrowed his hand,
making it as long as possible, as he pressed it down.
“Yes; a good deal like that, partner,” replied Grafton.
“And did the two ends, or toes, go together, pigeon-toed
like, or spread apart, the way you and I walk?”
“They pointed together!’ exclaimed the new settler, in
some excitement. :
“Then,” said Brandt, reflectively, “there may be some truth
in the matter; though like enough, if there be Indians about,
they're only some of those friendly Cherokees, come up to
the river here to catch salmon and perch. However,” he
added, “I’ve got all my grain in, and I’ll go over with you,
and look at the tracks\as soon as Pve got my breakfast.”
“But won't Miss’ Margaret, here, be uneasy about what
I’ve said, while you’re gone, Brandt?”
Margaret laughed, and Brandt replied: “I reckon, Maggy
isn’t near so much afraid of redskins as you be, Grafton. x
‘The new-comer reddened; for, to tell the truth, he was a
secret admirer of Margaret Brandt, and wished to appear
to advantage in her eyes.
Breakfast over, the young men took their rifles, and sallied
out across the clearing, Margaret standing at the door, and
laughingly calling after them to beware of the Indians.
“Ever seen any redskins, Grafton?” asked Brandt, after
they had proceeded some distance into the forest.
“Only the friendly ones who used to come around father’s
house, when we lived at Wheeling,’ was the reply.
“Then,” said Brandt, “if anything happens—mind, I dont
say anything is even likely to happen—but if anything should,
don’t lose your presence of mind, but just watch me, and
follow my example closely.”
“ld do-it," was the reply.
They had proceeded about three miles and a half, and
were close upon the little settlements to which young Graf-
ton belonged, when Brandt—who had perceived certain signs,
though he had considered it best not to communicate the fact
fo his comradée—repeated his Aare OH
“Remember what I said, partner,’ said he. “Whatever
might happen—I only say might—don’t be scared, but do
just.as [dow
“Scared!” said the other, indignantly.
He had no sooner spoken than the report of a rifle rang
through the forest, and a bullet whistled over their heads.
Brandt sprang behind a tree in an instant, and his com-
rade followed his example, though pale and trembling. The
latter was, by no means, a coward, but he was unused to
Indian warfare, and, like almost any one in a similar con-
dition, he was startled, and temporarily unnerved by this
indication of the presence of a deadly, but unseen, ‘foe.
“Keep where you are, partner,” said Brandt, “and Pll
soon see whether there are more than one of the devils
about.”
were
said Brandt,.
See Ss
39 THE -BUFFALO
Except for the low tones of his own voice, as he spoke,
the vast forest was as silent as the grave. a
He placed his squirrel-skin cap on the end of his gun,
and then projected it a little beyond the tree, behind which,
he stood. There instantly came the report of another shot,
and the cap fell to the ground, pierced through and through.
“There’s only one of you any way,” muttered Brandt, “and
that shot tells me where you are.”
He peered out cautiously, and presently perceived the
portion of a dusky form behind a large beech-tree about
two hundred yards off—and moving as if in the act of re-
loading. ;
He fired immediately.
There was a howl of pain. The Indian sprang from his
covert, and, though evidently badly wounded, advanced to-
ward the young men’s position, with brandished tomahawk.
“Now, Grafton,” said young Brandt, coolly reloading,
“you've got a capital chance to kill your first redskin. He is
limping mighty slowly—take good aim, and let him have
it?’
Grafton was very pale, but he recollected, and did as he
was instructed when the advancing foe was scarcely fifty
feet away. The savage received the bullet in his breast,
and, with another yell, fell forward and expired.
“Capital! you'll make a fine hunter yet, my boy,” said
Brandt. “Now we'll leave the red devil where he lies and
we'll hurry on and see what this means.”
He ran through the forest and Grafton, not a little proud
of his prowess, followed.
Smoke was blowing through the trees as they proceeded,
and they soon came upon a large cabin in flames, while the
entire clearing around it was desetted. \
“My Heavens!” exclaimed Grafton; “it’s old Carleton’s
cabin !”
‘Yes,’ replied Brandt, “and there must be what is left of
the poor old man.”
He pointed to the corpse, which had escaped the attention
of the other. It was that of a gray-headed old man, cloven
through the skull, and otherwise frightfully disfigured. Near
it lay the lifeless form of a young man, who Grafton de-
clared to be the son of Carleton.
“Oh, this is too horrible!” he exclaimed, covering his face
with his hands. “There were, also, three women—the wife
and two daughters, Kate and Fanny Carleton. Of course,
the fiends must have destroyed them also.”
“No,” said young Brandt who had been examining the
other signs about the grounds.
off captives. See,” he continued, pointing to the trampled
path which led from the burning cabin to the woods. “Do
’
you notice how deep two or three of these footprints are?” ~
Vaca: i
“Well, they must have been made by Indians carrying the
women. Now, let’s make for the other cabins as fast as we
ean,”
They found the little settlement in great confusion, and the
men drawn together, with their. rifles in their hands, but
uncertain how to act. Few of them had ever seen a “wild
Ingin” before, and therefore the presence of young Brandt,
boy though he was, gave a general satisfaction.
“There has only been one cabin attacked,” said Brandt,
“and from the marks around that one, I think there can’t
be more than twenty redskins in the party. This is just a
sudden swoop, and they are now returning into the woods
with their captives. ah
“What shall we do?” asked the settlers, anxiously.
“If ten of you will put yourselves under my guidance I
will agree to follow them up, and rescue the women.”
They looked at his boyish figure, and hesitated. At length,
however, after consultation, they consented; and ten of the
most active of the men, including Grafton, set out into the
forest, under the young hunter’s chieftainship.
“The women are carried.
Bila STORIES:
The latter was selfish enough to take his own cabin in the |
toute of pursuit, and it was well that he did so, as the event
proved. x
They heard shots just before reaching it, and creeping
cautiously forward saw that the house was surrounded “by
twelve or fifteen Indians. Margaret had barred the door,
and, like a true backwoodsman,. was making a desperate
fight from within—shooting at them through one of the loop-.
holes that had been prepared for that purpose. Eyen as they
looked, her rifle spoke and one of the redskins reeled. back
with a howl.
“Now give them a volley, and then follow me with your
hatchets and knives,’ whispered Brandt.
They were only about a hundred yards from the savages,
and theseleven rifles were discharged with telling effect.
Then young Brandt sprang into and across the clearing
with a whoop, followed by the rest. But the remaining
Indians did not venture to meet their onset, but took to the
woods as fast as their legs could carry them. - __
Margaret. unbarred the door. She was pale, but gave no
other indications of fear, though she smiled happily as she
returned her brother’s embrace.
_ The bodies of eight Indians were found upon the grounds, ~
_and there was. another badly wounded, who expired in a
short time. - : a :
Robert told Margaret of the fate of the Carletons, and the
mission he was on to rescue the women from captivity.
BaP] shall not accompany the party now, Maggy,” said
he. “I would never think of leaving you alone here after
what has occurred; I shall stay at home.”
“What! and leave those poor women in,the hands of the
red fiends!” exclaimed’ Margaret. “Robert you shall go?.
As for me, haven’t I proved pretty well that I know how to
take care of myself?” she continued, pointing to the dead
bodies of the savages. :
It was, however, only after repeated urging upon her part
that Robert would consent to continue the pursuit.
“Well, then, have your own way, Maggy,” said he. “But,
in the first place, men, let’s remove these lovely ornaments °
out of sight,’ and he gave one of the dusky corpses a kick
as he spoke. .
They dragged them away; and then, after bidding good-
by to Margaret, resumed their quest—young Brandt taking
the lead, and. studying the trail closely, for he rightly
conjectured that.the Indians who had assailed his own cabin
must be a portion of the party concerned in the destruction
of Carleton’s. :
- They traversed the f6rest as long as there was sufficient
light to detect the trail, and then encamped for the night.
They took it up on the following day, and pursued it with-
out success, until toward sunset, when they emerged from
the denge unbroken forest into a series of comparatively
open glades. This, Brandt averred, was a piece of good for-
tune, inasmuch as it would enable them to travel by moon-
light—of which there was a goodly suippfy—though much
more caution would have to be observed on this very account.
They were afraid to light a fire, for fear the smoke would
betray them; so they made a hasty meal from the provisions
they had brought with them, and, after a brief rest, recom-
menced their toilsome way.
Toward midnight there were unmistakable indications that
they were approaching an Indian encampment, and young
Brandt, by a motion of his hand, enjoined unusual silence.
They crept, rather than walked, along, in Indian file, until
they came to a little glade, on the farther side of which they
perceived the savage camp.
‘Around a smoldering fire, about twenty Indians were
slumbering. A single sentry sat upon a log, as silent as a
statue, about midway between the hunters and the camp,
with his blanket rolled around him and his gun between his
knees. . J
THE BUFFALO
The boy-chieftain motioned his followers to remain where
they were.
knife between his teeth, and crept toward the motionless
sentry on his hands and knees. Luckily, the sentry’s back
was turned, and the youth’s approach was as noiseless as
a: snake’s.
He was close upon his victim. The anxious hunters saw
him arise erect in the moonlight. The next instant his knife
was plunged to the hilt between the shoulder blades and his
sinewy arm was thrown around the victim’s neck to prevent
the death-cry.
There. was a brief, silent struggle, and then the savage
sank without a groan.
Brandt waved his hand. The hunters glided from their
covert like specters—young Grafton -bearing Brandt’s gun
as well as his own gun.
They surrounded the slumbering redskins, each singled
out his man, and then, at another signal, they fired simul-
taneously. .
It was cruel slaughter, but necessity knows no law. The
‘hunters sprang in instantly, and few of the red men escaped
—those who managed to evade the raining blows making no
resistance; but flying away into the wilderness.
A scream apprised the victors of the whereabouts of the
captives, whom they soon discovered, uninjured and guarded
by a group of squaws,
Though they were destined to bewail. the loss of old Carle-
ton and his son, they fell upon their knees in thankfulness
for their salvation, and were safely returned to other friends.
The only one of the hunters who was wounded was young
Grafton, but he speedily recovered under the nursing of
Margaret Brandt, who afterwards became his wife.
Robert Brandt obtained great fame throughout the terri-
tory for his share in this affair, and the title “Boy-Chieftain”
clung to him long after he arrived at man’s estate, ©
SIMPLE QUESTION. ae
Uncle Eli Johnson, who was the oldest colored resident
of a New England town, possessed what he himself called
“powers ob expoundin’.”
all occasions and in many different ways, and had brought
their owner no small degree of local celebrity.
“Wat does folks mean when dey speaks ob ‘lookin’ a gif’
hoss in dé mouf,’ Uncle Eli?” asked Pompey Leone one day,
as he stopped at the old man’s woodshed for a little chat.
“Wat does dey mean?” queried Uncle Eli, who usually
“temporized’ a little before making his wise replies.
“Vassuh,” returned’ Pompey. “I often heard folks say as
if it wa’n’t safe to look a gif’ hoss in de mouf.”’
“Well, ob course it ain’, chile; ob course it ain’,” said
Un¢le Eli, whose mind was in'a condition to work rapidly
after the short respite afforded by Pompey’s reiteration.
“Yo' see, Pomp, dat, ‘gif?’ is jess a condaction, so to speak,
ob ‘gifted’; an’ when folks speak ob a ‘gifted’ hoss, w’at
does yo’ interlocate dey’s referrin’ to?’ “
Pompey shook his\head, overpowered either by the ques=
tion or the remarkable language in which it was couched.
“Sho, now, chile, am it possible yo’ don’t prejicate dat
These powers were exercised on
simple notion!” exclaimed the wise one, lifting his hands
in apparent amazement. “W’y, it’s jess like dis. A “gifted’
hoss is one dat’s got powers; powers ob r’arin’, powers ob
kickin’, powers ob conductin’ hisse’f. gen’lly. An’ don’ yo’
see, chile, dat when folks.steps up to dat kind ob a hoss, an’
makes. as if dey persumpted to look in his mouf—w’y, dat
hoss he ‘jess nachelly ex’cises ob his powers, an’ it ain’ safe
SI
—ob course it ain’.
“Yo’ sutt’nly is a mons’ous easy expotnder,” said Pompey,
AAO tei NT PR po nti 253 SDE Ne
He then laid His rifle aside, put his hunting- ’
BILL STORIES. aI
with gratifying astonishment freely displayed in his ebony
countenance. uk
“Oh, jess middlin’,’ said Uncle Eli, waving off further
commendation with his right hand, in which he had grasped
the saw, preparatory to beginning work again; “jess mid-
dlin’ easy, dat’s all. Any simple ques’ion like dat, ob
course I can declarify right off; but dey is ques’ions dat
would take me a conserble time to adjudicate complete.”
HIS MISTAKE.
Covered with mud, his clothes torn, and his face bleeding,
the wretched man fled before a crowd of people. An old
cartman who was driving along the road heard and saw
the infuriated mob. Pity took hold of him, and, calling out
to the hunted man, he managed to attract his attention and
succeeded in dragging him into the cart more dead than
alive.
“What a near shave!” gasped the rescued one.
“Drive hard, and I’ll give you a couple of pounds,” he
panted. “They’re after me. I’ve done them out of a hun-
dred pounds.”
“What!” roared the countryman. “D’ye mean to tell me
you're a welcher, and that was the racing crowd after yer?”
“Yes, that’s it. For goodness sake, don’t let them catch
ine Mp
“You just get off my cart,” said the sturdy farmer, with
a threatening gesture. “I ain't got no pity for the: hkes o’
you. Here, get out of this,” he went on, giving the man
a push that sent him’ into the road. “I thought you were
a baseball umpire.” ie
WHY SHE WAS ANGRY.
The.short-sighted but well-meaning new lady resident de-
cided that if she wanted to make friends in the village she
would have to call. So one merning, clad in all her. finery,’
she marched across to the front entrance of her neighbor’s
cottage and knocked at the door. be ek:
e, Mrs. Simkins!” she said affably,- when
that worthy opened the portals to her. “Of course I don't
know. you, but I do your husband—at least by sight. 1 see
him the first thing every morning down in the. garden.
And how well he looks!” : se
Mrs. Simkins colored. Then she went black im the face;
then she slammed the door. es
“And you told her, mother,” exclaimed the new resident's
daughter on that lady's return, “that you thought the thing
in the onion bed was her husband?” “Of course I did.”
“Well, but that’s not her husband at all, you know. It’s
a scarecrow !” Hots
“Good mornine
HOW TO GET A COONSKIN COAT.
Coonskin overcoats are within the reach of Minnesotans
who will spend a few days in the woods with a coal-oil
barrel and some parsnips, according to J. L. Ferguson, a
trapper who lives in the vicinity of Cass Lake.
“If you'll go to a timbered district,” he said, “sink a coal-
oil barrel two-thirds of its length in the ground, suspend
a parsnip over it»about a foot from the top, and leave it
over night, you should catch at least one coon, and possibly
three. The head of the barrel must be removed .and there
must still be traces’ of coal-oil on the inside, so the staves
will be slick. The coon willbe attracted by the smell of
the parsnip—there is nothing a coon likes better; he: will
climb the outside of the barrel, and in trying to stand on
the rim and reach the suspended parsnip will fall in. There
is no pogsibility of his climbing out.” ee
STD Broan Ke eae eta ono Na aetencsha ee st Rs IRN EDS FON te
a Ne CERN =e S
me &
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243—Buffalo
244—Buffalo
245—Buffalo
247—Buffalo
250—Buftalo
251—Buffalo
252—Buffalo
253—Buffalo
254—-Buffalo
256—Buffalo
258—-Buffalo
261—Buffalo
263—Buffalo
264—Buftfalo
265—Buffalo
266—Buffalo
267—Buffalo
a eae
ing
272—Buffalo
273—Buffalo
274—-Buffalo
275—Buffalo
276—Buffalo
278—Buffalo
286—Buffalo
283—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
287—Buffalo
288—Buffalo
289—Buffalo
290—Buffalo
292—Buffalo
293—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
303—Buftalo
304—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306—Buffalo
807—Buffalo
308—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
310—Buffalo
311—Buffalo
312—Buffalo
314—Buffalo
315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
318—Buffalo
319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
322—Buffalo
324—Buffalo
325—Bufialo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329—Buffalo
330—Buffalo
331—Buffalo
332—Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buffalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—Buffalo
339—Buffalo
340—Buffalo
Bill on Special Service......
Bill on a Treasure Hunt....
5
5
Bill’s Lost Quarry.......... 5
Bill’s Stockade a Dvahisieuerece
Bill on a Long Hunt. Bie
Bill’s Wyoming Trail.
Bill and the Redskin Wizard..
Bill’s Bold Challenge........
Bill’s Shawnee Stampede.....
Bill on a Desert Trail.......
Bill in Tight ee. mee aaa:
Bill’s Treasure Train.
Bill’s Border Beagies. 3
Bill and the Bandits in Black..
Bill and the Indian Tiger.
Bill on the Deadwood Trail. ate
Bill in the Cafion of Death..
Bill and the Robber Ranch
Bill’s Dusky Trailers.
Bill’s Diamond Mine.
Bill and the Pawnee Serpent.
Bill’s Scarlet Hand
Bill Running the Gantlet.
Bill’s Daring Plunge........
Bill’s Ghost Raid.. ‘
Bill Up a Stump........ ‘eae
Bill’s Master-stroke........
Bill and the Brazos Terror...
Bill’s Dance of Death.......
Bill and the Creeping Terror..
Bill and the Brand of Cain. .
Bill’s Medicine- Sean é
Bill in Peril... 23... Bie etovs
Bill’s Black Bagles........ ie
Bill’s Desperate Dozen......
Bill and the White Specter. .
Bill’s Death Defiance.......
Bill and the Barge Bandits. .
Bill, the Desert Hotspur...
Bill’s Wild Range Riders....
Bill’s Whirlwind Chase......
Bill’s Red Retribution.......
Bill Haunted
Bill’s Fight for Life.........
Bill’s Death Jump
Bill in the Jaws of Death....
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Bill’s Aztec Runners......... 5
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Dance with pee Bact aees
Fiery Eye.. sacase tote
Mazeppa Ride. ubeleeevekererehs
Gypsy Band........
Bills)" Mavericksi3. 6. 0s iss Beets
Bill’s Gold Hunters.........
Bill in Old Mexico.
Bill’s Message from the “Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master.
Bill’s Flying Wonder...
Bill’s Hidden Gold..........
Bill's: Outlaw Trails: 3.6.05
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and the Mad Marauder...
Bill’s Ice Barricade........ 5
Bill and the Robber Elk....
Bill’s Ghost Dance..........
Bill’s Peace-pipe SE AON tr
Bill’s Red Nemesis..........
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bill’s Pay Streak..
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Bill on Detached Duty...... 5
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s “Totem” ...
Bill’s Flat-boat Drift. .
Bilton: Deck.'.5 aoe es
Bill and the Bronco Buster...
Bill’s Great Round-up.......
Bills “Pledges osc Sess. 6:
Bill’s Cowboy Pard..........
Bill and the Emigrants...
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Army Mystery...
Surprise Party..
Great Rides. wc. oe
Water: "Trails 22 22.560 06
Ordeal of Fire........
Casket of Pearls......
Bill’s Four-footed Pards......
Bill’s Sh cee ats
Bill’s Pick-up.
Bill’s Quest...
Bill’s Waif of ‘the. Plains.
Bill Among the Mormons. ae
Bill’s Assistance............
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail....
Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
Bill’s Strong Arm...........
Bill’s Girl Pard..... ceescat ots
Bill’s Iron Bracelets...
Bill’s Ranch Riders....
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Magic lariaty. 06.
*‘Paper-Talk’’..... é
Bridge of Fire........
Bowie
Pay-streak.........6.
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Bills Clean-up hes iessc a e267e ace
Bill’s Ruse ..
Bill Overboard
Bill’s Ring.. pee cuscemeente
Bill’s Big Contract .. Serie Coleone
Bill and Calamity Jane......
Bills Kid@Pardyhn sc cie esis.
Bill’s Desperate Plight.......
Bill’s Fearless Stand.. mae
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bill’s Guiding Hand.........
Bill’s Queer Quest..........
Bill’s Prize “Getaway”
Bill’s Hurricane Hustle......
Bis Star sPlayinc s.r.
Bill’s
BIS! Trackers })..6