A WEEKLY PUBLICATION

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

 

 

 

No. 475 NEW YORK, JUNE 18, 1910: Price, Five

 

 

 

veceeed

 

ey Te AuTwoR OF
“GUFFALO BILL"

 

 

 

 

Both ruffians came at the scout. With a quick movement he caught the wrist of one. ‘Take
him, Diamond !’’ shouted Buffalo Bill to the dog, and the second ruffian was taken care of.

 
 

 

 

 

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A WEEKLY PUBLICATION

 

 

DEVOTED TO BORDER LIFE |

 

; issued Weekly.

By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 19-89 Seventh Ave., —— ¥.
Copyright, 1910, 6y STREET & SMITH.

eis

 

 

No. 475.

NEW YORK, June 18, 1910.

” Pelee Five Cents.

 

 

BUFFALO BILL'S DIAMOND HITCH;

Getting a Line on the Trouble-hunters.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER 1
TWO BRUTES AND A DOG.

“Easy thar, Thompson! Steady does it.”

“T know what I’m doin’, Breathitt. You hush, an’ git
back. When it comes ter throwin’ a rope I’m ace-high,
an’ kin walk circles all around you!”

‘Ter. fear-you tell it.”

“Waal, you git him within twenty feet o’ me, an’
watch.” ‘

Peculiar operations were going forward there at the
top of the bank of that little stream that flowed into the
Pecos.

At the foot of the bank, two saddled and _ bridled
horses ‘with packs at the saddle cantles were wearily
browsing. “ Rocks and bowlders fringed the top of the
bank.

Crouching close to a break in the line of bowlders
were two scoundrelly-looking men. One of them had
a riata, while the other was holding a pce of jerked
beet

A grassy plain stretched away from the bowlders.
Across this plain, about a hundred feet from the place
where the two men were hiding, stood a dog—a big,
raw-boned animal that bore every appearance a being
half wolf or coyote. \

The dog was an outcast. He had lived long areioH
around the haunts of men to have a well-developed in-
stinct for human companionship. The. “call of the wild”
was not sounding in his mongrel blood. To run with a
pack of desert scavengers had no appeal for him.

 

Had the tawny, four-footed brute been gifted with the
power of speech, he might have told of a prospector
who had befriended him in his earlier years, and who
had shown a kindness that had won him away for all
time from his brute kindred of the wilderness.

But the prospector had died, and on a slope of the
Chantay Seeche hills, in New Mexico, there was a
mound with a roughly constructed palo-verde cross
above it. The cross and the mound were a mute testi-
mony of death, but they had nothing to say of the dead.
Miners from the Chantay Seeche camp had found the
dead prospector, and had laid him away. His name and
past were a dead letter.

For many nights after the burial, the camp on Chantay
Seeche creek was disturbed by mournful howls—wolfish
howls, but throbbing with a weird sadness. For a week
the annoying sounds were borne; then a delegation of
miners went hunting for the cause of them.

Moonlight poured its silver glory over the slope of

Chantay Seeche hill, touching the palo-verde cross with

a soft caress and showing the miners a coyote dog*on the
mound, baying his grief to the stars.

The miners did not understand. They knew nothing
about the dead prospector and even less about the dog:
They thought the animal a ghoul, and the livid flash of
their six-shooters mixed in a ghastly glow with the
moonbeams.

The howls of the dog changed from grief to pain, and
he scurried away into the shadows with sa broken leg.
He never went back to Chantay Seeche hill, but lay for
weeks in distant fastnesses until Doctor Nature, always

 

  
  

ae THE BUFFALO

   

kind with his own creatures, healed the crooked leg and
made it once more useful.

But the dog, having experienced the joy of having a
human master, sought humbly and persistently to in-
gratiate himself into the good graces of other men.

He had much trouble and danger for his pains. His
appearance was against him. Whenever and wherever
he appeared among human kind, bullets were launched at
him. His tawny hide was seamed and scarred with me-
mentoes of his fight for human friendship.

There was something pathetic in all this to any one
whose heart was in the right place. How far the dog
traveled in his search for a master, no one could agw : ;
but he was seen at the Needles, on the California line, at

oe Bail Williams Mountain in the north, on the Dhavos

River in the east, and at Fort Huachuca on the Mexican
border. All the vast country between must have been the
‘scene of his struggle to find an owner.

Then, at last, wearily trotting along the Pecos, he had
descried the two mounted men, and had made his usual
overtures in his wild canine way. Lead and.curses had
beet thrown at him. He was proficient in dodging lead,
and he had long been accustomed to curses. At a safe
distance he had followed the horsemen, hoping against
hope, no doubt, that their hostile attitude would change.

The two men had ridden over the crest of the creek
bank, and the dog was waiting for them to top the

“rise” of the bank opposite. But the two men did not
show themselves. While the dog waited and watched,
he saw one of the men, on foot, push out from between
the fringe of bowlders,

The attitude of the man was distinctly friendly,.and
he held out food—the keen scent of the coyote dog left
no doubt concerning the food part. of the proposition.

“Fine ole boy! Nice ole feller!. Come hyeér, ye pesky
varmint, an’ git somethin’ ter eat. Have er bite o”
jerked, consarn yore measley hide! Come on, dorg, an’
give Tomp a chance ter heave a rope at ye. I reckon
he could put er stamp on that rope an’ send it by mail
a heap quicker’n he could land on ye with it jest by usin’
his hands. But come on an’ give him er chanst!”

A muffled imprecation came from behind the ‘rocks
where Thompson crouched with the rope.

The dog was slow in approaching Breathitt. Breath-
itt’s tone was coaxing enough, but there was something
in the man’s face that the dog did not like. Experience
had made him keen in reading craft and guile as ex-
pressed by the human face.

“Ye won't come, hey?’ cried Breathitt, “A feared oO
me, aire ye? Waal, come arter the meat, anyways.”

He bent and placed the jerked meat on the ground,
then retreated a distance of fifty feet.

The dog’s suspicions were allayed. Besides, he was
hungry. Slowly, he advanced upon the meat, keeping
one eye on the morsel of food and the other on Breathitt.
Eis cofifidence increased as he came on.

Then, just as he was close to the meat, a noose leaped
through the air.
With a triumphant whoop, Thompson jerked back on the
rope, and pulled it taut.

For two minutes, some four square feet of space were
full of dog. Half strangled, the animal turned somer-

saults, and executed other lightning-like specialties in
his attempt to get clear of the noose.

Breathitt roared with mirth—tramping the ear rth ae
Thompson, as soon

howling in a spasm of enjoyment.

 

BILL STORIES.

as he had made the free end of the riata fast to a bowl-

an’ be some pronto about it.

The dog jumped back, but too late. :

der, took full part in the pleasures of the moment.
“Didn’t I tell ye?” he whooped. “Now, what ye got

ter say about me as a rope thrower, hey? Put a stamp

on it, an’ send it by mail, huh? Ye couldn't have done

that trick in a hurtdred years, Breathitt!’’

“T could ’a’ done it as good as you,” flung back

- Breathitt.

“Waal, let it pass.
everythin’, a

“IT ain't no quicker ter argy than what you aire.’

“That: ain't never a thirg I do but ye're eae ter
jump on me an’ say ye could do it a heap better.”

“Sore head, yah! Sore head!”

“Yere a trial, that’s what ye aire. Next pard I git'll
be differ’nt, Who's goin’ ter shoot the dorg?”

“I reckon I better do. it, Tomp. I’m a better shot’n
what you aire.’
“That ye-go agin.
Breathitt !”
“That's so, Tomp. If ye ever tried ter shoot at me it

ud be all around me. Ye never could come clost enough
ie do much damage.”

“Waal, anyways, we ain’t got much time ter fool
around hyer. We got ter make tracks ter a safe place,
But. [il tell ye what I'll do
seein’ as how ye're so high an’ mighty with yer talk. Vl
bet my shate o’ the swag I kin knock off that dorg’s

right ear, an’ that you kain’t even singe his left un.
What dye say?”

“Easy money, Tomp, that’s what I say,” and Breathitt
looked at the captured dog, which was still struggling
like a whale in a flurry. “He’s splinterin’ all out like a
dozen dorgs, an’ I kain’t tell his right ear from: his left,
er even see whether he’s got any ears er not.” :

“Right thar’s whar the good shootin’ comes in,” an-
swered ‘Thompson, slipping a revolver out of his belt.

Just at that moment the dog stood on his hind legs,
braced back against the riata, his jaws wide in his fight
for air, and his red tongue lolling.

Brutes there are, in this world, brutes on two feet and
four, but for out and out cruelty brutes in boots outrank
any other creatures that cumber the earth.

“Ye got an advantage!” cried Breathitt, noting the
dog’s position.

"Ve lin wait fer the same kind of advantage,”
swered Thompson, leveling his weapon.

The sharp note of the six-shooter awoke . sodden
echoes among the rocks. A dozen feet on the other side
of the dog a ‘little flurry of dust arose.

“Whoop! howled the jeering Breathitt ; “ye ised!
Ye had the best kind of a target, an’ ye missed! Ye're a
fair daisy with a gun, an’ no mistake. Ye couldn’t hit
that thar dorg if he was as big as the side of a barn.”

Ue dodged |” erowled Thompson, abashed,
sarn the whelp, he dodged!”

“Oh, yes, he dodged!” taunted Breathitt,

The next moment he jumped at THompeon, and
knocked his revolver aside.
My chance now,” he went on.
till I crop his left ear,

"Go ahead, then,” snarled Thompson.

Breathitt crooked his left arm in front of his. face,
and laid the muzzle of his weapon. across it... Then; be-
fore he could press trigger, there came a rapid thump of

Ye're allers ready ter argy about

I--kin shoot all around’ you,

an-

“Con-

“Ye don’t eit another
Fair play, Tomp!’

 

 

 

 

  
   

 

hoofs, and a calico cayuse rushed through the break in

 

“out 0. this.

ad NN errs een hep, vier mn TROND Nr Naz Orth een ae Aap ete ld, et ce

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

  

the rocks and halted broadside on between the marks-
man and his target.

“Jumpin’ sand hills!” gasped Breathitt, starting back.

“An Injun, by thunder!” exclaimed Thompson.

Yes, it was an Indian, a little Indian in trim buck-
skins with an eagle plume rising from his black scalp-
lock, and two shiny braids falling in front of his ears
and down upon his breast. The little Indian’s eyes were
like coals.

“Ugh!’ he grunted angrily.
coyote—got um heap bad heart.
dog, Indian shoot um white man.

“White man all same
White man shoot um

Ait

 

CHAPTER 11:
LITTLE CAYUSE ON “HIS METTLE.

Chance alone brought Little Cayuse, Buffalo Bill’s
Piute pard, to that place at that time. Time was hanging
heavy on the boy’s hands—and on the hands of old
Nomad and the baron, as well. They were waiting in
the town of Hackaday for Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill.
The scout and the Laramie man were behind their sched-
ule in reaching. Hackaday, and Hackaday was the sort
of town to get on the nerves of energetic people like’ the
pards when not actively employed. Nomad,.the baron,
and Cayuse beguiled the tedium of their wait in various
ways. Just now, while the old trapper was initiating the
Dutchman into the mysteries of “seven-up,’ the Piute
boy was roaming through the adjacent country on Navi,
his pinto mustang.

From the opposite side of the creek Little Cayuse had
seen the two horses at the water’s edge; then his eye had
risen to the top of the bank at the moment when Thomp-
son was making fast the end of the riata.

Cayuse, because of the intervening rocks, could not see
what it was that the white man had lassoed, so he’ be-
gan a casual investigation.

While he was crossing the creek, Thompson fired his
revolver; and when he had climbed the bank the boy
looked out from between the rocks, saw the wretched,
half-strangled brute at the end -of the rope—and
promptly interfered.

“Blazes!” cried Thompson.
said, Breathitt ?” ;

“Think I’m deef?” howled Breathitt. “Consarn the
red! Say, we’ll shoot off his ears instid 0’ the dorg’s if
he don’t skin out o’ hyer. Move!” he ordered, giving

“Did ye hyer what he

Cayuse an ugly look; “‘move, I say, ‘r we'll take yore

skelp.”

‘Thats what,’ growled Thompson. “I'll kick yore
pantalets up over the top 0’ yer skelplock if ye don’ t hike
We ain’t pesterin’ you none, but we're li’ble
ter be if ye don't scatter.”

“You no hurt um dog,
let you hurt um dog.”

“is i yore dog, redskin?,

“Na ie 3?

“Then what bizness ye got interferin’ with paleface
sport, hey?” “

“What’s the use 0’ argyin’ with him, Tomp?” de-
manded Breathitt. “I ain’t got no time ter waste on er
Injun, *spacially a halfan’-half speciment like him.
Watch me singe his eagle feather.”

Breathitt lifted his revolver to take a shot at Ca-

9

answered Cayuse. “Injun no

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Spohn ye Acyah rt oman dra lgarcia tr oP HA des PA

     

BILL STORIES:

    

yuse’s scalplock decoration; but he had no sooner started
to raise the weapon than the boy dropped out of sight
behind his pony.

‘Thar’s a Injun trick fer ye!’ exclaimed Thompson.
“He’s on the ground. Shake a load at him between
his horse’s legs.”

Before Thompson’s suggestion could be carried out,
the Piute boy had cut the rope that secured the dog
to the bowlder and had jumped out in front of his pinto.

Thompson gave a howl of wrath.

“He’s. knifed my riata! Consarn the red whelp, he’s
sp iled my rope!”

“An’ the dorg—look at him!” cried Breathitt.

The dog, with the end of the severed riata trailing
behind him, was streaking across the plain like a scared
coyote making for home and mother.

Carried away by the excitement of the moment, both
white men ignored Little Cayuse temporarily and
launched lead after the flying dog.

So far as injuring the dog was concerned, the result
was merely a waste of ammunition. So far as Cayuse
was concerned, the useless shooting gave him an oppor-
tunity of which he was not slow to take advantage. |

At his feet lay a number of small stones, broken from
the bowlders. Quickly he picked up two of the stones.
When the men got through shooting at the fleeing dog,
the boy knew they would seek revenge for the loss
of the animal they had been torturing and for the cut-
fing of the rata.

Tn such an emergency it is well to take time by the
forelock. Coming hastily around to Navi’ s side, Caves
hurled one of the stones.

. The missile went straight to its oes striking Breath-
itt’s right wrist while the muscles were flexing with
the movengents of his trigger finger.

The hand, wrist and arm went numb in a flash, and
the revolver dropped. A bellow of rage and pain came
from the desperado’s lips.

“He winged me with a rock!
a bullet through the whelp!”

As Breathitt, clasping his right wrist with his left
hand, staggered and swore, Thompson whirled to spill
the vials of his wrath—and presumably some lead from
his revolver—upon Little Cayuse.

At that precise juncture the second stone leaped from
the boy’s hand. It struck Thompson in the shoulder, and
the white man staggered back against Breathitt. Neither
of the men was ovérly steady on his feet, and the impact
overset the pair of them.

While they struggled and fumed, and got to their
knees preparatory to getting to their feet, a tattoo of
receding hoofs smote upon their ears.

“Thar he\goes!” cried Breathitt, ‘reaching with his
left hand for his other revolver. :

“Nail him!’ howled Thompson, blind with
“Don't let.the pizen little whelp git away!”

But Cayuse had already got far enough away to defy
the bullets of his enemies. Bending low over Navi’s
neck he raced into the teeth of the wind like a limited
express train making up lost time.

The white men wasted a few more bullets, and then,
with a torrent of piratical language, Thompson whirled
and started: for the crest of the “bowlder- strewn creek
bank.

“Whar ye goin’?” yelled Breathitt.

“Whar d’ye- think?” flung back Thompson.

Shoot ‘im, Tomp! Put

rage.

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THE BUFFALO

goin’ ter git my hoss an’ foller that red till I kin lay
hands on him.”

“Thar -ye go with more locoed talk! Say, when you
git yore back up ye ain’t got no sense, none whatever.
If ye’ve got a head, Tomp, why don’t ye use it?’

Breathitt was sitting up on the ground examining
his injured wrist.

As usual, Thompson resented his companion’s slighting
remarks. Turning back from the bowlders he ran to
where Breathitt was sitting.

“Ye’ve called me a fool more times than I kin count,
Breathitt,” he yelled, “an’ I’m gittin’ plumb sick of it.
When it comes ter headwork, I don’t take no back seat
fer. you.”

“That’s whar ye’re lame,” scowled Breathitt. “If ye’d

take advice from me ye’d be a hull lot better off. Cork,

now, an’ be sensible.” a

“Tll cork when I please, an’ tune up my bazoo whc
I please. No yap like you kin boss me.”

Thompson’s hand wandered to his shoulder and reste
there, a wince of pain crossing his evil face.

“Shoulder hurt?’ queried Breathitt.

“Oh, no, it don’t hurt!” snorted Thompson. “It jest
feels like it had been hit with a cannonball. However,
did that confounded redskin manage ter put so much
force inter that rock he heaved at me?”

“Dunno, He put jest as much force inter the stone
he heaved at me, I reckon. Anyways, this hand an’
arm still feels like they didn’t belong ter me.”

“It's yore fault, that’s what it is.”

“Shore it’s my fault,” answered Breathitt sarcastically.
“Buty jest ter be sociable, I wisht ye’d tell me how ye
figger it, Tomp.” oe |

“Why,” went on the furious Thompson, “jest as I was
gittin’ ready ter squar’ up with the red fer Slashin’ the
rope, you had ter yell that the dorg was climbin’ inter
the distance. Why didn’t ye hesh about the dorg till ’d
fixed the Injun?”’ |

“lf that ain’t ijut talk, I never heerd any!” exclaimed
Breathitt. “Ye didn’t have sense enough ter keep on
playin’ yer game with the Injun, an’ ye’re blamin’ me
fer at"

“I kain’t ’tend ter more’n one thing at a time, an’
when ye yelled out that the dorg was runnin’ away,
nacherly I turned on the dorg, same’s you. Why didn’t
ye want me ter chase the Injun?”

“Kase we got somethin’ else ter think about, Tomp.
It's up ter us ter slide fer whar we’re goin’ an’ not
lose any more time. You know what we got ter do as
well’s me.”

“Tf it comes ter that,” scowled Thompson, “thar
wasn't any sense in stoppin’ ter fool with that dorg, in
the fust place.”

“No more thar wasn’t, but I like a leetle sport, now
an’ then, same’s you.” |

“It was you mentioned stoppin’ an’ layin’ fer the
dorg.”

i “You mentioned it-fust by allowin’ ye could rope the
mute.”

“I ain’t goin’ ter argy no more, If I’d let ye, ye’d
stay right hyer an’ argy till the crack 0’ doom. If any
one follers us account 0’ what we’ve done, they’d ketch us
hyer squabblin’ over some fool thing ’r other. I’m
gittin’ of it,”

BILL STORIES.

“Whar'd |

“Same hyer.” Breathitt got up. slowly.
ye think that Injun come from?”

‘ibass,

“He must have crossed the creek. D’ye think,” and
tight here there was a flicker of alarm in Breathitt’s
face, “that he stopped ter look inter our packs?” :

“Thunder!” cried Thompson, wildly excited, “why
didn’t ye think o’ that afore?’

Both men rushed through the line of bowlders and
down to the edge of the creek. They were vastly re-
lieved when they discovered that their packs had not,
apparently, been tampered with. |

Giving over their foolish bickering, they mounted,
splashed through the creek, and continued their journey
along the Pecos,

| Reqecoerneumstaceeesa!

CHAPTER It,
MAKING FRIENDS.

Little Cayuse was an Indian from his moccasin soles
to the tip of his eagle plume. The long, long time he
had been with the scout had not served to eradicate
those qualities that had come to him as a birthright,
but it had served to give him a different outlook on many
of the affairs of life.

‘He hated oppression. To see the strong imposing on

the weak was enough at any time to fire his blood.
This is one of the things that had taken length and
breadth in his nature through association with the knight
of the plains,
Because of this hatred of oppression, the humble little
drama which was being enacted on the bank of the creek
had appealed to him, and had led him to dare the anger
of the white men in the\rescue of the dog.

Cayuse looked for the fugitive animal as he galloped
toward Hackaday. He had no idea that he would ever
see the brute again, but he wished that he might so that
he could remove the trailing rope.

Fate was dealing largely with Cayuse’s affairs that
afternoon; and Fate had decided that the Piute boy and
the dog were not to go their different ways after that
first exciting meeting,

At the edge of the plain which Cayuse had crossed
in getting clear of the white ruffians, there were hills
and more rocks. As the boy threaded his way among
the rocks, he came suddenly upon the dog.

The trailing rope had snagged itself among the stories
and the dog was held hard and fast at the end of a
fifteen-foot tether, ‘

When the little Indian showed himself, the dog re-
doubled his efforts to get away, failing to discriminate
between friend and foe after his recent trying experi-
ence,

The dog’s eyes were bloodshot, and the noose had
wedged so tightly about his throat that he could breathe
only with labored gasps. He was greatly weakened,
also, and the fight to avoid Cayuse was a sorry exhibi-
tion of brute endurance, |

A deep pity for the unfortunate animal arose in the
boy's breast. Dismounting, he left his pinto and slowly
approached the suffering dog, |

Feebly the dog continued to avoid him, Circling
around at the end of the rope, the dog kept as great
a distance as possible between himself and Cayuse. ”

Seeing that he could not get near the animal by pro-

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THE BUFFALO

ceeding in that way, the boy laid hold of the rope and
followed it hand over hand.

When he came close, the dog tried to snap at him, but
the fight for air was claimine so much of the animal’s
attention that offensive or defensive operations were out
of the question. >

Braving the fanglike teeth, Cayuse sank down on his
knees at the dog’s side; then, holding the rope with
his left hand, he put out his right and warily stroked
the dog’s dusty head. .

By degrees the boy’s advances were tolerated, and
finally he was able to open the hard knot of the noose
and slip the loop clear of the dog’s throat.

The dog thereupon dragged himself to a distance of
fifteen or twenty feet, and while he crouched down and

: gulped the air through his bruised throat, he studied this

dark-skinned lad who had been first to show him kind-
ness since the man with the pick and the goldpan had
been laid away on Chantay Seeche hill. :

Cayuse, knowing the ways of half wild creatures, did
not seek to force himself upon the animal. Rising slowly,
he went to Navi and took from his wolfskin war bag
a couple of dried herrings that remained over from the
rations he had brought into the hills.

He threw them in the dog’s direction, and the dog
leaped backward as though propelled by a powerful
spring. At first the dog very likely interpreted the fish
as a new kind of missile.

Cayuse said nothing and gave the animal no further
attention just then. Returning to Navi, he mounted
and rode on through the hills toward Hackaday.

Perhaps he had traveled a mile when he suddenly
saw the dog on a rise of ground on the right.

Cayuse hglted Navi and reached into his war bag for
a piece of bread. He held this toward the dog and
waited patiently.

Cautiously the dog came down the slope, ready for
instant flight in case of a hostile movement. Cayuse re-
mained as rigid as a statue. The dog came close to the
pony and then, after an irresolute moment, hoisted him-
self up on his hind legs and took the bread out of
the boy’s hand.

This was famous progress, and Cayuse was delighted.
From that point on, for a mile or two farther, the dog
followed the pony, occasionally barking and cutting a
canine caper when the Pitute turned around to look at
him. :

Once more halting Navi, Cayuse removed another
piece of bread—the last morsel of food—from the war
bag and slipped to the ground.

The dog came up to him confidently, took the bread
and ate it voraciously.

Cayuse patted the dog’s scarred hide, examined his
crooked leg and speculated as to his mongrel blood.
Then and there friendship was cemented between the
boy and the outcast. The prospector’s dog had found a
new master.

It would have been hard to decide which was the
more overjoyed by this new situation, Cayuse or. the
dog.

When Cayuse proceeded on toward Hackaday, the dog
bounded ahead, ran coursing hither and yon with his
nose to the ground, but at intervals did not fail to come

close to the little Piute and look at him as though for

orderg.

 

BILL STORIES. g

In the outskirts of the squalid settlement, the dog

. realized that he was going among enemies and made it

a point to keep close to Cayuse.

A. cowboy, riding ranchward after a period of carousal
in the town, drew rein alongside of Cayuse and peered
at the dog. |

“No shoot, um dog,” warned Cayuse, instinctively on
his guard; “him b’long to me.”

“Don’t ye fret,” answered the cowboy. ‘“That’s a
coyote dog, that is. His breed sticks out 0’ him ’plainer’n
the wart on a feller’s thumb. I savvies coyote dogs a
heap. That's right. Ye never ketch me kickin’ a coyote
dog, or otherwise mistreatin’ one. D’you know why,
Injun ?”

Cayuse shook his head,

“Then you-all listen to me,” went on the cowboy.
“Them coyote dogs never fergits a injury, an’they never
fergits to play even fer one. You hear the meller trill
of my bazoo, I’m wise to the ways of coyote dogs, I
am, and I tell you for sure that it’s a heap more sen-
sible for an ombray to have the good will than the
bad of a coyote cur. All some fools does, when they
sees a dog like that, is to go pesterin’ him. But not me.
You're Injun, an’ Injuns is some rough with animiles,
but you listen when I say don’t never do a thing to
that dog but treat him kind. He’ll pay ye back for it.
An’ if ye treat him rough, he’ll pay ye back for that,
too.” Sons. :

The cowboy had imbibed strong drink until he had
fallen into a capriciously morbid mood. While talking
to Cayuse he shook his head sagely and hiccoughed
again and again. Had he not been more or less in his
cups he would never have halted to address such re-
marks to an Indian boy. Having finished his talk, he
nodded gravely and started on along the trail.

The dog had ‘backed away while the cowboy was talk-
ing and seemed rather distrustful; but when the Indian
and the cattleman separated, the dog’s tail began to wag
and he trotted into the town at Navi’s side,

The pards were not stopping at a hotel—mainly be-
cause there was no hotel to stop at. There was a shanty
in the settlement furnished and without an owner. The
owner had disappeared between two days after robbing
a gambler. The gambler had immediately taken over
the shanty to partly recoup himself for his losses, and
the pards happened around just in time to rent it for.
a brief stay in town.

There was a little, square corral out back of the ~
shanty and here Cayuse swung down from Navi’s back
and turned the pinto into the enclosure with Hide-rack
and Toofer, animals belonging respectively to old Nomad
and the baron.

For the first time since his acquaintance with Little
Cayuse the coyote dog seemed undecided. Cayuse wanted
to take the dog into the house, but the dog was. not
used to houses.

From the open window of the living room of the
shanty came the voices of the baron and Nomad.

“I don’d know nodding py shinks, aboudt sefen-oop.
It vas some fool games, und der more I blay der less
I know aboudt it.”

“Waugh! I never seen sich er Dutchman. Baron,
Pve tried ye on kersiner, pitch an’ high-low-jack. In
pitch ye’re allers biddin’ on dimings, no matter whether

   

  
 

THE BUFFALO

ye got any dimings er not. What’s ther reason ye’re so
partial ter dimings?”
“Vell, tiamonts iss vort’ so mooch. A tiamont so pig
as a chunk oof goldt iss vort’ a whole‘lot more as der
goldt. I peen a feller vot reaches oudt for der large
tings. So, py chimineddy, I reach oudt for tiamonts,
und—vat/iss dot vat I hear py der kitchen door?”
“Et sounds er heap like Leetle Cayuse. Ther kid

must hev got back from his pasear through the hills.” —

The next moment the baron and the trapper appeared
in the kitchen door and saw Cayuse trying to coax
the dog into the house.

“Sufferin’ kyoodles!” exclaimed old Noniad. “Whar’n
blazes did ye pick up thet humbly man’s dorg, son?”

“Whoosh!” muttered the baron, “vat a fine tog I dor’d
tink. Vere he come from, Cayuse?’

“Me ketch um along Pecos,” answered the boy.

“Ye ortn’t ter took ther trouble,” said the trapper; “et.
don’t look ter me like results is wuth et. What’s his

name?” a
 “Him.coyote dog; no got um name.”

“I vill gif him a name,” chirped the baron. ‘‘ ‘Tiamont’
iss der lapel vat I gif him.”

“Thet’s er purty rich name fer a mongrel whelp like
thet,” grinned Nomad. “What ye tryin’ ter do with
ther brute, Cayuse?”

“Him no like to come in house,” answered the boy.

“Waal, don’t urge him. Fleas is plenty in hyar
as et is, an’ ef thet dorg brings in some more I’m a-goin’
ter scratch out. Leave him whar he is an’ come in
yerself. Et’s time ter start ther fire an’ hustle our
evenin’ chuck.”

“Mebbyso Pa-e-has-ka git back?” inquired Cayuse,
leaving Diamond to his own devices and making for
the kitchen door.

“Nary he ain’t come back,” grunted the old trapper.
“I reckon him an’ Wild Bill hev cut themselves out 0’
our herd fer good.”

“Vat a long time it vas since our bards vas mit us,”
murmured the baron. “Und eferyt’ing vas as keviet as
some Kvaker meedings. Nodding to do, vile ve vait,
aber to eat und sleep, under vaste our time blaying cardts.
Vy don’d somet’ing habben?’’

3

GCHAPTER AY.
SOMETHING HAPPENS,

The pards prepared their supper in gloomy silence
and ate it silently. Following the supper, and while the
trapper and the baron solaced themselves with their
pipes, Cayuse told about his rescue of the coyote dog.

“Son,’ yemarked old Nomad, “ye ort ter hev a
chromo. Ye’re the fust member o’ this combine ter
bunt inter anythin’ thet looked like trouble sense Buf-
fler an’ Wild Bill rode away from us.”

“Vat a luck,” sighed the baron. . “Oof I hat seen some
fellers fooling mit a_raddlesnake I vould haf brotected
der shnake schust to haf some leedle scrimmages. Und,
py shinks, I don’d like shnakes neider.”

Before going to bed that night, Cayuse went out to
try and coax Diamond into the kitchen. He returned
disappointed.

“Vat’s der madder dot you got some long faces like
dot, Cayuse?” inquired the baron.

‘rank foolishness an’ loco tork.’’

~ demurred the baron.

BILL STORIES.

“No find um Diamond,”
vamos.” .

“Good riddance, says I,” put in the trapper, with vis-
ible relief. “Coyote dogs is mostly bad medicine, any-
ways, son. They ain’t useter civilized ways, an’ I bet thet
thar Diming had ruther be off in ther hills stealin’ his
chuck from a freighter than gittin’ it free gratis fur
nothin’ from you.”

“I hear me someding, vonce,’ remarked the baron,
“aboudt coyote dogs being shdrange fellers, Vat it iss,
anyvay?’ He wrinkled his forehead and ran his\fingers
reflectively through his carrotty hair. “Vat it iss I-hear
vonce aboudt dose coyote togs?”

“Ye heerd a lot o’ rot ef ye heerd anythin’,” grunted
the old trapper. “They say a coyote dog never gits
badly treated but he squar’s up fer et—all o’ which is

answered the boy. “Him

“Meppy it don’d vas so foolish as vat you t’ink.”
“Dere iss more in dis vorld, Nomat,
dot ve don’d know as vat ve do. Yah, so helup me.
Nopody can be so vise all der.time as he iss schust some
oof der time. Meppy coyote togs do dose t’ings, find
meppy dey vas gradeful for der kindness vat iss given
dem. I don’d know nodding aboudt dot, aber it iss so
inderesting dot it keeps in my mint.”

“Bosh! Say, if thet thar coyote cur was grateful ter
Leetle Cayuse fer what he done, why did the dog clear
out? Coyote dogs ain’t no more grateful than what
wolves is, ef catermounts, er wild cats. I know crittérs,
hevin’ trapped ’em fer y’ars.”’

“Hat you drapped coyote togs?”

“Waal, nary. Coyote dogs wa’n’t so plenty a beaver
an’ other animiles up on the Niobrara.’ The old trapper
yawned lugubriously and knocked the ashes out. of his
briar. “I’m goin’ ter hunt my blahkets,”’ he declared,
getting up.. “What d’ye bet our pards rides in on us
durin’ the night?”

“I don’d bed nodding,” answered the baron.

“What d’ye bet thet somethin’ happens thet’ll make
this hyar wait a leetle more pleasant?”

“I vish for oxcidement, aber I don’t pelieve dere iss
any in dis part oof der gountry. Py shiminy grickets, I
feel like I vas in a trance all der time vat ve shtay
here.”

“Ye play keerds like ye was in a trance, all right,”
grinned the trapper. ‘Buenas noches, pardss-.and) he
made a bee line for his bunk.

The baron and Cayuse were not long in following
him. The night passed in sound slumber and Cayuse,
whose work it was to start the fire and bring water for
breakfast, was up early.

His first pronounced feeling was one of disappoint-
ment because Pa-e-has-ka and Wild Bill had not re-
turned during the night. Smothering the dejection that
tugged at his spirits, the boy opened the kitchen door
and stepped out. Something lay on the step in front of
the door, but Cayuse, at that moment, gave the object
. attention. He was looking for Diamond, the coyote

og. .

Diamond was not in sight, and a round of the prem-

ises failed to show any signs of him.

The boy was conscious of another feeling of disap-
pointment. As he came around to the kitchet, door

 
  
    
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 

4

PY
ft

 

 

 

   
  
   
 

personally to take a part in the discussion,

ee ee

 

 

THE BUPPALO

again, he picked up the object that had first attracted
his notice on leaving the house.

It was a saddlehag—a rusty, worn, old leather rere
tacle that had been cut away from another bag. On the
bag’s side three initials had been burned into the leather
—"J.K. LL.” The initials were plain enough, and Cayuse
was proud of the fact that his white man’s learning was
sufficient to enable him to read them.

While he stood examining the bag, old Nomad pushed
toward him across the kitchen.

“What ye got thar, son?” queried the trapper.

“No savvy, % answered Cayuse. “All same find um on
doorstep.” é

He handed his ‘find’ over to Nomad, and the latter
turned it over and over in his hand.

/ Ets: ér saddlebag, by thunder ef et ain’t,”. muttered
the trapper. “Et wasn’t on the doorstep when we went
ter bed’ last night, an’ why ther blazes should et be
thar this mornin’ ?”

“No savvy,’ and Cayuse again shook his head.

“Nothin’ in et,’ went on the trapper, peering into
the bag. “Blame’ quare et was drapped down at ther
door o’ our wickiup.”

“Meppyso,’ came the voice of the baron, who. had
heard all the talk from the other room and now came

“meppyso,

hy 3)

it vas a habbenchance.”

“Happenchance?” echoed Nomad. .
don’t come ter pass by happenchance.”

“Some feller vat hat more ret-eye as vas goot for him

eppy shlept py our pack door,” hazarded the baron,
“und ven he vent avay mit himseluf he forgot to take
his paggage along.”

“iLnetis er ine piece (0 abaseace ter avieler ter ‘be
kerryin’,”’ grunted old Nomad, dropping the cues
and kicking it to the side of the room. “No use‘puzzlin’
our brains over sich er thing, anyways. Go out an’
take keer 0’ the hosses, baron, while Cayuse an’ me
git our mornin’ chuck over the fire.”

The morning’s work was attended to expeditiously and
the three pards placed themselves glumly at the kitchen
table. -

“Nother night gone,” growled old Nomad, “an’ our
missin’ pards ain't back! I’m frettin’ a lot erbout the
way they're fightin’ shy o’ us,”

“T bed you someding for nodding,” ventured the baron,
“dot our bards haf tanoled oop mit some oxcidement,
Dey vould haf peen pack here doo tays ago oof some-
ding hatn’t gone grossvays mit dem. Yah, I bed you,
dey. was hafing lifely times vile ve eat, und shleep, und
blay cardts, und keep fellers from shooding coyote togs!
Vat a hardt luck!’

The baron had hardly registered his wail before a
roughly-dressed gentleman with sandy whiskers and an
inquisitive eye appeared in*the open kitchen door. ue

“Things like thet

“Mornin’,” said the apparition, sweeping his” eyes
around the room.
“Mornin’, neighbor,” returned old Nomad affably.

“Comeé inside and look out an’ ye’ll be more sociable.”
The man came into the kitchen, leaned against the wall

and continued his searching examination of the room.
“Tm Mose Quinby,” he remarked.

“Glad as blazes ter meet up with ye,” said old Nomad.
“QOuinby, the feller acrost ther table rom me is Villum
von Schnitzenhausen, our Dutch pard; the leetle Injun
at ther end o ’ther table is Cayuse, our Piute pard. We're

 

    

BILL STORIES. ! 7

all compadres 0’ Buffler Bill’s an’ hev been in this hyar
town four days waitin——”

“I know how long ye’ve been here,”
by. “lm the deperty sheriti.’

‘“Allers glad ter meet orficers o’ ther law,” rumbled
the trapper amiably. ‘‘Sit in an’ hev mornin’ chuck with
us?”

ave ete

“Got somethin’ on yore mind ?”’

“A hull lot. Looks as though you hadn't heard about
it.

“We hevn’t heerd nothin’ erbout anythin’. While us
fellers hev been in yore leetle bury, Quinby, we've put
in erbout ther quietest four days We ve ever spent, Is
thar any place we kin move whar thar’s somethin’ doin’ ?”’

“There was a heap doin’ a little ways out o’ town yes-
terday or last night,” said the deputy.

“Waugh! I’m shore surprised. Whar was et, an’
what?”

Quinby’s eyes fell on the saddlebag. He walked over
to it, gave it a kick, and then started back with a muf-
fled exclamation.

“What ther nation ails ye, Quinby?’ demanded the
trapper. ‘

“Til be back m a. minute,”
without pausing for further words,
bolted from the shanty.

“Vat a funny pitzness! !”’ exclaimed the baron, staring
after Quinby.

“Thort 0’ somethin’ he’d fergot,” said Nomad.

“Den dot sattlepag ae it in his mindt. Fairst he
looked at der pag, den he t ‘inks oof vat he forgot alretty,
und avay he goes. Now

Just then Mose Quinby reappeared, and there were two
more rough ly-dressed men with him. They flocked into
the room, one of them standing in front of the outside
door, a second placing himself before a window, and
the third stepping to the door that led into the front
room.

“Keep yer seats—don’t move!” ordered Mose Quinby.
VAI three of ye are under arrest.”

“Sufferin’ taranches!’’ gasped the astounded old No-
mad. “Ef this hyar’s a joke co

“Yell find it’s no joke,’

“What're we arrested fer?’

“Ye know, well enough. Ain’t that Lee’s bag, Gene?”

The deputy shot his question at the man by the win-
dow. The latter stooped down and turned the bag over
so he could see the initials burned in the leather.

“No. doubt about it, Mose,” said he.

cut in Mose Quin-

was the answer, and,
the deputy sheriff

 

 

CHAPTER: Vi

A MYSTERY.

Something had happened at last. The monotony of the

long wait the pards were having for Buffalo Bill and

Wil id Bill had been violently disturbed. Nor was the
excitement of a very pleasant sort.
The baron got up angrily and waved his fork.
“Py shinks,” he flared, “dis vas some insulds! I von’t
let any fellers like you make some insulds mit me?!’
“Sit down!” ordered Mose Quinby curtly. “Sit down
or Ill git a rope on ye.
“Ropes vould be atting some insulds to der lnchuee)

  
8 : THE BUFFALO

persisted the baron.
dot. Dis vas a free goundry und

Right there the deputy sheriff looked over his re-
volver sights at the baron.

“Cork! Sit down!”
~ The baron’s weapons, as were also Nomad’s and Ca-
yuse’s hung in their belts from nails in the front room.
Realizing his tremendous disadvantage, the baron
slumped muttering into his chair, :

Cayuse, as was his usual custom,. hardly flicked an
_ eyelid. He was calm, but his brain was alert and noth-
ing said or done got away from him.

By an effort the old trapper likewise kept himself in
hand.

“Thar’s some bloomin’ mistake hyar, Quinby,” said
Nomad. “Ye’re under ther impression thet us ombrays
~hev done somethin’ we ain’t done. What is et?”

“I say ye know what it is!” declared Quinby.
“Then tell us,” said the trapper dryly, “so’st we kin
remember et.” oe

“Jass Lee was shot down, sometime yesterday or last
night, on the trail from Lone Star to Hackaday. He was
about the peacefullest man ye ever seen—never hurt
anybody—but he had a bunch o’ money in his saddlebags
and was shot down for it. His horse come into Hack-

“I don’d shtand for nodding like

9

aday without a rider nigh onto nine, last evenin’. Gene
Jass, and we found him face

and me went lookin’ for
down in the trail.’

“Had he cashed in?” queried Nomad.

“He had. An’ his money was gone.”

“Do I understand ye ter say, Mose Quinby,” demanded
the old trapper, with fire in his eyes, “thet ye opine us
fellers, pards o’ Buffler Bill’s all, done sich a murderin’,
thievin’ trick?”

“Ye understand me to say that ye’re under suspicion.
Circumstances p’int to you.” .

“Why, man,” cried Nomad, “I was playin’ kyards, in
this hyar shanty, from sun-up ter dew-fall with the baron.
Cayuse, thar, was in the hills, but he was down the Pecos
an’ not upstream to’rds Lone Star.”

“Mebby you fellers was here and mebby you wasn't,”
said the deputy. “Who seen ye here?”

“Donnervetter !” shouted the baron. “I seen olt Nomat
und he seen me. Ain’d dot enough, hey? Py shiminy,
you get me so madt mit all dis foolishness dot I can’t
see shtraight. , Ve vas here all tay yestertay, und all
nighdt lashdt night. . Ve don’t know nodding aboudt
somepody vat got killed und ropped, und dot’s all vat I
Say.”

“Prove ye was here all day yesterday,
last night,” scowled the deputy.

To do that would have been difficult. The shanty
occupied by the pards was in the outskirts of the town.
There were no other houses in its near vicinity, and
no one to keep track of the pards and either affirm or
deny their story that they had not been in the hills.

“Waal, Quinby,” proceeded the old trapper, “I reckon
our bare word ort ter be enough. We're pards o’ Buf-
fler Bill’s, an’ we couldn’t train with ther king 0’ scouts
_ ef we was given ter usin’ ther double tongue.”

“Ye say ye’re pards of Buffalo Bill’s, but that don’t
prove it,” returned Quinby. “When you fellers blew in
here, I understand that ye told around that Buffalo Bill

and all night

Bil STORIES,
would be here in a couple o’ days to meet ye. Where is
the scout?”

“I reckon he’s delayed.”

“T reckon he's mighty badly delayed—so badly de-
laved that he won’t come at all. Yore stories don’t
hang tergether worth a cent.”

“Waugh!” boomed the trapper, his temper chafing
hard against his restraint, “thet’s the fust time I was
ever acctised o’ crooked tork when callin’ myself a pard
o’ Buffler’s. I’m purty well known, I am. Ole Nick
Nomad hes stood shoulder ter shoulder with ther scout ’
fer some sort of er while. Now to hey a two-by-twice
deperty sher’ff sock ther jimption to me in this sort o’
style is a hull lot annoyin’. Ye’re accusin’ us ombrays
o’ thet play on the Lone Star trail jest bekase we happen
ter be strangers an.——’’

“Not alone Because ye happen to be strangers,’ cut
in Quinby. “We've got proof.”

“What's the proof?”

“That bag!” and Quinby pointed to the saddlebag on
the floor.

“What’s thet bag got ter do with the murder an’
rob’ry?”

“It was Jass Lee’s bag.”

“How d’ye know?”

“Didn’t Gene jest identify it?”

“How did he identify et?”

“By them initials,” spokesup the man called Gene.
"J. K. L.—Jasper K. Lee. ‘Why, I’ve seen Jass’s sad-
dlebags more times than I can count. I’d know the
hull of ’em, or the half of ’em, anywhere. Jass was my
brother-in-law.” .

“Now,” cried old Nomad, “you galoots look hyar oncet.
I ain't. sayin’ that saddlebag didn’t b’long ter Jass Lee—
I dunno Jass Lee from Adam, ner his saddlebags from
any other saddlebags in the State o’ Texas. When we
went ter bed last night, thet thar saddlebag wasn’t
eround this place; but when we got up-this mornin’ it
was layin’ jest outside the kitchen door. Thet’s the
truth,” frowned the trapper savagely, “an’ I-don't like.
the way ye’re twistin’ yer mouths over et. Ef 1 had
my guns——”

But Nomad realized that a display of temper would
hurt rather than help the-case of himself and his pards,
so he continued his fight to keep his wrath and indig-
nation in check.

“Ye haven’t got yer guns,” said Quinby, “an’ ye'll
not have ’em so long’s us three men are on this job.
That’s a wild yarn about findin’ the saddlebag in front 0’
yer kitchen door. How’d it get there?”

“Why, the tin horn that pulled off the measly, low-
down game on the Lone Sfar trail must hev_ brought
the saddlebag inter town an’ dropped it in frént o’ our
door jest ter put us Strangers under suspicion. Ther
coyote, I reckon, lives right in this town. He’s hidin’

his hand, an’ he seems purty successful in gittin’ you
ter barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“Ye can’t make me swaller any yarn as farfetched

_as that,” said the deputy.

ove palpitated the baron, “oof I hat my guns, py
chimineddy T vould make you svaller der yarn und eat
dot sattlepag along mit it. Yah, so helup me! I nefer
see sooch a ugly feller like you.” -

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ay,” snapped Quinhy, “I never did like a Dutchman
an’ I’m gittin’ ready to jump on you with both feet.”

“Steady, thar, Quinby!” put in the old trapper; “you
ain't goin’ ter stir up any rough-house purceedin’s at
this stage o’ the game. Us fellers aire straight goods.
We don’t stand fer high-handed work, same as hap-
pened ter this hyar Jass Lee, any more’n what you do.”

“Ye can’t tell me nothin’ about Buffalo Bill an’ his
pards,” said the deputy sheriff. “I take off my hat to
that outfit. Everybody knows what they’ve done, an’
are doin’, for law an’ order. The repertation earned by
the scout is all the more reason for you ombrays takin’
the names 0’ his pards, breezin’ in here an’ hidin’ under.
good names avhile ye sneak around an’ do yer lawless
work, I ain’t a fool. I reckon I can do a little figgerin’
jest as well as the next man. Findin’ that bag here in
the kitchen clinches the argument.”

“Nary it don’t clinch the argyment,” flared the trap-
per, his temper seething while his better judgment sat
on the lid, “et only opens ther argyment. What did Lee
hev took from him?”

“His sa \ddlebags an’. two thousand in gold; likewise
his belt an’ revolver.”

“Then, say, ef all them things was took, an’ we took
em, ye ort ter find more in this wickiup than jest one-
half o’ Lee’s saddlebags, hadn’t ye? Whar’s the belt an’

_the revolver? Whar’s t’other half o’ the saddlebags?
An’ whar in blazes is thet two thousand in gold?”

“We'll hunt around the place till we find all the missin’
property,” declared the deputy sheriff.

“S’posin’ ye don’t find et? . Will ye take et back, what
ye said erbout us bein’ the killers an’ thieves?”

“T ain’t takin’ back a thing. I believe what I see an’
find out.”

With that, the sheriff thrust his*head through the oor
and called loudly fora man named Rickner, Rickner
appeared with a promptness that suggested quite a large
number of armed citizens outside the house.

‘Go on guard here, Rickner,” ordered Quinby, “while
I git some 0’ the other boys an’ hunt for the missin’ gold.
I want three men to watch these tin horns all the time.
Don’t you let °em move.”

Rickner took up his place in the doorway and Quinby
went out.

For some time the deputy sheriff and some other man

could be heard searching the living room of the shanty.”

Nothing rewarded their efforts, ‘and they transferred
their activities to the kitchen. After half an hour of it,

the deputy sheriff declared that the missing ey

couldn’t be found.

“Buffler Bill ort ter be hyar ter-day, sure,’ asserted
the trapper. “When he does come, ‘Quinby, I reckon
he’ It hev somethin’ ter say erbout this bizness thet’ll
s’prise ye.”

“Well, you men are under arrest,’ answered Quinby,
“an’ we're goin’ to keep ye right here in this kitchen.
If Buffalo Bill comes, all right; but [ll gamble my spurs
not one of you three men ever saw the king of scouts.”

It was hard for the pards to sit still and listen to
that kind of talk. Each of the three, however, was turn-
ing the matter of the saddlebag over in his mind.

The small mystery had developed into one of the
most vital importance.

And what was the solgtion of it?

aN

Mike alae Nac hres Oy SAAN: Whi PNM aeapeR Ate OPN Rat CaN pe

 

BILL, STORIES:

e CHAPTER. VI

THE BELT AND REVOLVER.

All day long the three pards were penned in the kitchen
of the shanty. At noon the deputy sheriff relaxed so far
as to fasten the kitchen door on the outside, and the
other door from the living-room side. The three guards
were then withdrawn in such a manner as to leave the
pards alone together. Gene took up a comfortable posi-
tion in the living room, Rickner seated himself on the
step at the kitchen door, and a third man posted himself
outside the window.

“Thunder an’ kerry one!” growled old Nomad. “Ain’t
this hyar a how-de-do, pards ?”

“Vell, I tink it iss vorse as dot,” muttered the baron
wrathfully. UP like oxcidement more as anypody, aber I
don’d like vat iss going on now.’

The baron looked ‘out of the kitchen window. The
house he saw was the centre of attraction for the whole
town. People were grouped all around it, and were look-
ing and pointing. When the baron showed himself at
the window the nervous tension of the townspeople. be-
came terrific. He turned away sputtering.

“Oof ve vas monkies in some cages, by shinks, dose
fellers oudtsite couldn’t look more as vat dey do. Vere
der tickens dit dot sattlebag come from?”

(Ets jest as i told thet fool, deperty, baron,” an-
swered old Nomad. “Us fellers aire strangers hyar, an’
ther rale thief is tryin’ ter throw suspicion on us.”

“Vell, he made oudt pooty goot. Ve couldn’t be more
under susbicion oof ve vas pehindt der pars oof a chail.”

“Thet’s right whar.we'd be ef they had er jail.”

“Vat a tisgrace! Puffalo Pill vill be madt’as some
vet hens ven he finds it oudt, I bed you.”

“What ther howlin’ blazes is Buffler, anyways? Ef
he’d er been hyar when he was expected, this wouldn't
hev happened.”

“T haf peen t'inkin’ oof someding,

“What is.et?”

“Oof ve hatn’t blayed cardts so mooch, und hat peen
more aroundt der town, eferyt’Ing vould haf peen pedder
mit us, nicht wahr?. Ve hafn’t peen going oudt und ged-
ding ackvainted mit der peoples, und so der peoples t’ink
dere iss somet’ing crooked aboudt us. Vat you guess,
hey?

Uhet’s my guess,” “answered the trapper. ‘Ther
hardest blow thet’s fell on me was ter hev the deperty
allow we was runnin’ in er rhinecaboo by assertin’ we’re
Buffler’s pards. Fine lay out this is, ef we’ve come ter
a pass whar we look like a bunch o’ murderin’ an’
thievin’ tin horns! Er-waugh! Et rankles some, et shore
does.” :
“Vell, led us shmoke und forged aboudt it,” suggested
the baron, filling his pipe. “Meppy Puffalo Pill vill
arrife pefore nighdt comes on.”

“Tye given up.expectin’ him-an’ Hickok at all,”
grunted the trapper.

The pards were allowed to prepare their dinner at
noon, and their supper at night. One of the bystanders
took the pail for them and filled it with water, while
another brought fuel from the woodpile and dumped it
inside the door.

Night came on, and the missing pards dd not show
th emselves. About eight o’clock in the evening Mose
Quinby came into the “kitchen.

” remarked the baron.

en ase,

ARR ae at acc he Era ae aa aA

 

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10 THE BURFALO
“We'll let ye go inter the other room to sleep,” said
he. ‘Two guards will be placed in the kitchen, an’
there’ll be half a dozén more around the house.”

“Is anythin’ bein’ done ter find some’un else who mout
hey done thet shootin’ on the Lone Star trail?’ de-
manded Nomad, “or aire ye jest hangin’ onter us, plumb
confident we're the guilty parties?”

“We're plumb confident about you fellows, all right.”

“An’ ye ain’t doin’ er thing ter find any one else?”

“Tt ain’t necessary ter do anythin’. To-morrow we're

goin’ to take you three killers over to Lone Star an’

put ye in the jail there.”
“Why don’t ye take us over ter-night ?”
“We're givin’ ye the benefit of the doubt an’ waitin’
'ter see whether Buffalo Bill comes or not.”
“Then ye'd better keep us hyar an’ wait longer.”
“Can't run the risk,”
~ “What risk?”

“Why, of a lynchin’, Some of the cattlemen who
knowed Jass Lee are talking right strong of comin’ here
in a body an’ takin’ the law in their own hands. ’Course
Pll do all I can to protect ye from the cattlemen. They
won't be able to git a fair-sized crowd together afore
sometime to-morrow, an’ by then we'll have ye in Lone
Siar.” .

“More insulds!” fumed the baron. “Der itee oof a
lynching barty makes me hite my headt mit shameful-
ness.”

“Et makes me want ter fight,” snorted the trapper as
he stepped into the living room.

The revolvers belonging to the pards had been care-

fully removed. With the closing of the door and the
shifting of the guards, Nomad, the baron and Cayuse
found themselves in another cell of the same prison
house.

“Meppyso,’ whispered the baron, “we could escape!
Vat you say, Nomat?”

“How could we escape, baron?”
“Vy, make a run der door oudt und fighdt mit our
nants.” :

“Thet would only make er bad matter wuss. The
deperty would think shore, ef we tried thet, thet we was
guilty.”

“He t’inks dot anyvay; pesides, vat oof dot lynching
barty would come do-night, hey? Himmelblitzen, I don’d
vant to be der cendre figure in some mecktie socials!’

“T reckon all thet tork erbout a lynchin’ is gammon.
Anyways, ’'m goin’ ter bed an’ snooze ther same as ef
we didn’t hey a gang o’ ijuts with guns surroundin’

39

lio.

Disgustedly the old trapper sought his bunk. The
unenviable situation in which he found himself did not
interfere with his slumbers, for he was snoring loudly a
few minutes after his head touched the pillow.

Fle was awakened suddenly by loud yells and whoops
outside the shanty. Starting up, he peered dazedly about
him in the darkness.

“What's thet?” he demanded. “Baron! Cayuse! D’ye
reckon our pards hev got hyar?’’

“No savvy pards,” came the voice of Cayuse. ‘“Meb-
byso Dutch pard make um white men yell,”

“How could ther baron be ther cause o’ ther disturb-
ance?”

BILL: STORIES.

At that’moment some one was thrown bodily into the
room through an open window.

“Next time ye try that on,” called a husky voice
through the window, “we'll drop.ye with a bullet. Oh,
no, you ain’t guilty, I reckon! If ye ain't, what’re ye
tryin’ ter make a run of it fur?” @

The window was pulled down, and the form that had
been dumped into the room muttered savagely and began
crawling across the floor. -

‘Jumpin’ wild cats!” exclaimed Nomad, “Is thet -you,
baron ?”

“Yah, it vas me,” came the Dutchman’s voice.

“What was ye up ter?’ !

“I tought I could ged avay und meppy make Puffalo
Pill hurry oop mit himseluf, I got me oudt oof der vin-
der, und I vas pooty glose to der pack oof der house
ven a gouple oof fellers chumped on me.”

“Thet was er foolish move, baron. I told ye,*afore
we turned in, thet ye hadn’t ort ter try et. Now them
ombrays outside reckons fer shore we're guilty.”

“Vell, I ditn’t make t’ings vorse as dey vas.”

The baron, with a sigh of relief, settled himself in
his bunk.

“I tought,” he went on, “dot oof I could ged a re-
folfer someveres I vould feel easier in my mindt.”

“Ye didn’t git one, did ye?”

“No, bard. Der fellers vat hat de refolfers vas too
pitzy mit deir hants.”

The baron, apparently satished, dropped asleep.

“We're sartinly in er fine row er stumps,” thought old
Nomad, “an’ I ain’t much good as er boss. My head-
work is some lackin’ in er pinch like this. Ef Buffler
don’t show up, I reckon we’ll hev more trouble on our
hands than we kin take keer of.”

A premonition of impending trouble came to the old
trapper as a result of the baron’s attempt to get through .
the cordon of guards that Quinby had drawn around the
house. He finally went to sleep, only to wake up and
ey deputy sheriff in the room, standing beside his
bunk.

It was daylight, and a gleam of sun was shining in
through the east window.

“What sort of a game are you fellows tryin’ to work,
anyhow?” demanded Quinby, keeping his right hand
behind him.

“All the game thet’s goin’ on seems ter be in yore
hands, Quinby,” answered the trapper.

“How d’ye account for this?”

He brought his hand around in front of him and
showed a revolver belt. Attached to the belt was a
holster, its flap buttoned over the handgrip of a six-
shooter.

“T ain’t accountin’ fer ther thing,” answered Nomad,
blinking “Thet ain’t my shooter, ner the baron’s, ner
Cayuse’s,”

“Where'd ye have it hid?”

“Whar’d we hev et hid? Say, kin
ye kin, now’s yer chanst ter do et.”

“This here belt and gun were taken from Jass Lee,
along with the saddlebags and the gold. Gene has iden-
tified it, but a dozen more of us know the belt an’
gun belong to Jass. I found it on the step at the
kitchen door no more’n fifteen minutes ago. How’d it
get there?” 2 ae

ye tork sense? Ef

 
  

   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
 
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
    
    
     
   
  
  
   
 
  
 

 

 

 

“How do I know how et got thar? Ther same tin horn
must hey brought et an’ drapped et as brought ther sad-
dlebag.”

“Well, I reckon ye're right about that. The man
that dropped the belt an’ gun Was the Dutchman. He
tried to get away last night, as we thought, but it now
appears that all he gct through the winder for was to
put this belt an’ shooter on the back step. What’s your
game, anyway? Ye can’t make yore case any worse by
tellin’ me.”

Old Nomad was too surprised for words. Cayuse
grunted sarcastically and the baron said things under
his breath,

CHAPTER VII.

AT. LAST.

“Ach, du lieber!” cried the baron finally, “you t’ink
I peen a fool? Oof I hat hat dot refolfer in my hants
I youldn’t nefer haf led go oof it! You bed you, dere
vould haf pé®n firevorks ven dose fellers chumped on
me lasdt nighdt oof I hat peen heeled mit dot. Vat a
foolishness to subbose oddervise!’’

“Tl take my solemn Alfred,’ declared the sheriff,
“that none of my possé left the gun on the step. That
means, 0’ course, that the Dutchman must have left it.”

“T ain’t a-sayin’ er word,” answered old Nomad. ‘‘No
matter what I tell ye, ye won't take no stock in et.
Take yerself an’ yer gun out o’ hyar an’ leave us alone.
Snarlin’ catermounts! How much d’ye think I kin stand
afore I git riled?”

Quinby turned and walked to the door.

“There ain’t-~no doubt about you fellows bein’ the
right men,” said he. “I’m havin’ yore horses taken care
of, an’ when ye get up ye can go out into the kitchen
an’ shake up yer mornin’ snack. Arter that, be ready
to ride to Lone Star.”

The kitchen door closed with a bang.

“Now,” growled old Nomad, throwing his feet out of
his bunk and reaching for his trousers, “whar in Sam
Hill did thet thar belt an’ gun come from?”

“Der same feller vat prought der sattlebag prought
der pelt und gun,’ asserted the baron. “You say dot
yourseluf, Nomad.”

“T said et, shore, but et was fer ther deperty’s*benefit.
I kin savvy why the rale thief should hev fetched thet
saddlebag an’ laid et on our doorstep, but I’m er maver-
ick ef I ‘kin figger out why he should hey fetched ther
belt an’ gun. ‘Ever’ body in town knows we're pris’ners
in this hyar shanty, an’ thet we couldn’t git out ef we
wanted ter; so the rale thief, ef we give him credit fer
hevin’ any sense, wouldn’t bring Jass Lee’s artillery an’
lay et on the step, expecting the deperty ter think we
had et with us.”

eVelk don'd der teputy sheruff tink ve hat der. pelt
und gun?” queried the baron. “Dot’s vat he saidt ven
he come in.’

“Shore he claims ter think et kase ye made thet loco
play last night. Ye give him er chanst ter think et,
baron,”

“Und I say righdt along dot he don’d use his prains
ad all,” cried the baron. “Vould I drow avay a refolfer
oof I hat vone, ven it vas a refolfer I vanted to ged
holt of? Und den, some more, vat goot vould it haf done
for me to lay dot refolfer py der kitchen door ?”

Deter Fated pt a thi liter db ASPEN dane hoen lhairscer ns sdes stat senha

THE BURR ALG

 

  

BILL STORIES. an

“It wouldn’t-hevy done any airthly good,” agreed the
trapper. “Quinby, howsomever, thinks as how we’re
workin’/some game er other. Ye kain’t make him see
et any diff’rent. Oh, I wisht I had Buffler’s head fer a
spell! My brains is fair splittin’ with ther tangle we’re
in, an’ tryin’ ter figger out ther best move ter make. Ca-
yuse, kain’t ye say somethin’ ter help?”

“No savvy,’ was the little Piute’s gloomy response.
“White man all same locoed; everybody locoed. Ugh!’

“Ll reckon ye’ve got er bean on the right number when
ye allow thet everybody’ s locoed. We're purty nigh as
badly locoed as any one else.”

“Meppy ve von’t be any vorse off at Lone Shtar as
here,’ hazarded the baron.

“Hyar’s whar Buffler said him an’ Hickok would meet
us, an’ hyar’s whar we ort ter be ef our pards come.
But I reckon they won’t come. Somethin’s happened
ter ‘em, er gone crossways, an’ we're li’ble ter git sent
over the road fer what happened on ther Lone Star traile
without Buffler. an’ Hickok savvyin’ anything erbout et
until et’s all over.’

“Ven ye Aalk like dot,’ shuddered the Girona 8 ‘my
shkin geds oop und valks all ofer me mit cold feet. —
Yah, so, I pegin to feel like der case vas hopeless.”

Indignation and baffled wrath flamed in the old trap-
per’s face; then, suddenly, it gave way.and a weird,
startled expression came into his eyes,

“T got et!’ he gasped, staggering across the room and
leaning against the wall. His gloomy eyes surveyed his
gaping pards. “I got et,” he repeated.

“Vat it iss?” inquired the baron.

“Whiskizoos!”” whispered old Nomad hoarsely.

The “whiskizoos,” according to old Nomad’s-way of
thinking, were demons of ill luck. Whenever anything
went wrong, and the cause was difficult to understand,
Nomad fell back on the supernatural and mentioned his

“whiskizoos.”

Little Cayuse was intensely supefstitious. The baron
was mildly so, and now, with both Nomad and Cayuse
ready to credit their misfortunes to a supernatural cause,
the Dutchman had less common sense than usual.

“Oxblain dot, Nomat,” begged the baron.

“Thar ain’t anybody kin explain ther ‘whiskizoos’,” re-
turned the old trapper gravely. “They ramp eround
without human eyes bein’ able ter see ’em, an’ they does
their diabolical work so’st no man kin hinder. Et was
‘whiskizoos’ fetched thet thar saddlebag ter the kitchen
door, an’ et was “whiskizoos’ as toted the belt an’ gun ter
ther™same place. I wonder I didn’t think o’ them thar
‘whiskizoos’ afore. The spooks hev got et in fer us, an’
thar ain’t no fightin’ ag’inst ’em. Le’s go an’ rustle
ther mornin’ chuck an’ then rgde with Quinby ter Lone
Stat.

Silently, and somewhat fearfully, the baron and Ca-

-yuse trailed after the gloomy old trapper into the kitchen.

Wood and water had been brought, and they set about
the preparation of breakfast.

“Dose ‘viskizoo’ fellers iss pad meticine,”’ muttered the
baron, while the bacon was sizzling in the frying pan
and the smell of boiling coffee filled the rear room. “I
don’d vas afraidt oof nodding vat I can see, aber ven
someding comes at me vat I can’t see, den I drow oop
my hants.”

“Only thing ye kin do,” rumbled the trapper. UW ete

   
 

 

     
   

 

_ oy THE BUFFALO

kyboshed, buffaloed, an’ double-crossed-too numerous
ter mention, this turn o’ ther wheel.”

‘The food was placed on the table and the awe-struck
pards took their places and fell to on the substantial
things of life while their minds continued to deal with
the mysterious and the unsubstantial.

“Fust off,’ proceeded Nomad, between mouthfuls,
“ther ‘whiskizoos’ begun their work right at ther be-
ginnin’, It was them as whispers ter Wild Bill thet
he’s got ter go ter Houston on some bizness er other;

an’ then they whispers ter Buffler ter go ter this hyar -

town o’ Doolittle an’ meet Wild Bill when he’s er comin’
back, meanwhile sidetrackin’ us three in Hackaday. All
ther hull time, mind ye, everythin’ was being framed up
ter git us inter trouble.”
_ “Dot looks reasonaple, hey, Cayuse?” remarked the
baron, |

“Wuh!” murmured the little Piute.
~ “We come ter this hyar settlement plumb strangers ter
ever body,” resumed the old trapper. “Nobody knowed
us, an’ we give et out thet we aire pards o’ Buffler Bill’s,
waitin’ fer him ter show up at’ j’ine us. Buffler was ter
come hyar in two days. But he didn’t. Them thar
‘whiskizoos’ got in their work an’ Buffler ain’t hyar- yet.
Et’s ‘whiskizoos’ thet’s keepin’ him erway. Waugh!”

“Tt geds more und more.reasonaple as you shpeak it
oudt,’ declared the baron with great earnestness. ‘Ven
a feller don’d know someding, den it iss reasonaple
to sharge it oop to der ‘viskizoo’ fellers. Dot makes it so
blain as I can’t tell! Vill der ‘viskizoos’ pring der goldt
to-nighdt, or vill dey keep dot for demselufs?” |

“Use yore brain, baron,” answered the trapper irri-
tably, “use yore brain oncet in er while, anyways. What
good’s gold, er dinero, ter spooks? They ain’t needin’
et same as us humans. What kin they do with et?”

“Vell, I don’d know dot,” admitted the baron, “but
vat goot does it do der ‘viskizoos’ to ged us indo drou-
ple re
“Thet’s what they’re fer—ter twist a human bein’s
brains inter a knot an’ git folks inter trouble.”

Pore

“Say, you got ter hev a reason fer ev’ry blame’ thing?
I don’t know for why. When a thing happens, so plain
as what this has, what’s the use in tryin’ ter figger out
ther why? We're company front with a heap more
trouble than we've bucked ag’inst in a long while, an’ it
ain't goin’ ter help tryin’ ter diskiver why et was loaded
onter us.”

“You haf oxblained dot so blain as Puffalo Pill could
do,” declared the baron admiringly. _

“Buffler don’t believe in ‘whiskizoos,’” said Nomad,
: . % . .
suddenly losing a large share of his enthusiasm.

“Meppy he vould oof he knowed vat vas going on mit
his bards, here in Hackatay. Efery leedle vile; Nomat,
someding comes oop dot ve don’d know ondil ve findt
it oudt. Vat’s going on oudtsite?”’ the baron asked sud-
denly, cocking his head on one side and listening.

A tramp of horses and a sound of excited voices
reached the ears of the pards from beyond the closed
kitchen door.

“I reckon,” answered the trapper, “thet the gyard
thet’s ter land us safe in Lone Star is gittin’ some im-
patient. They think we’re consumin’ too much time
over our breakfast.”

BILE, STORIES.

“Or meppy,” quavered the baron, “der ‘viskizoos’ haf
prought der lynching barty.”

“We kain’t help what happens, baron,” said Nomad
resignedly. “Fill up this hyar coffee cup ag’in, Cayuse.
Ef I’m ter do a hornpipe in the air, blamed ef I do et
on er empty stummick.”

The baron’s appetite suddenly failed him.

“Anyvays,” he fluttered, “I vish I hat some refolfers.
I hate to gif oop mitoudt making a fighdt. I 7

At that moment the kitchen door was thrown open and
two menehurried into the room, Nomad, the baron and
Little Cayuse were astounded.

“What's going on here, pards?’ demanded a jovial
voice, “You seem to be taking things a good deal easier
than the gang outside.”

“By gorry,” said the second newcomer, with a chuckle,
“T should say so. Get some more bacon over, you fel-
lows. Pard Cody and I have been riding half the night
and we're plumb tuckered and hungry as coyotes in
January.”

“Pa-e-has-ka!” gulped Little Cayuse,

“Puffalo Pill und Vild Pill!” murmured the baron.

“Ef et ain't!” gasped old Nomad. “Am I dreamin’,
er what? Hev ye got hyar, pards? Hev ye got hyar
ter Hackaday—at last?”

 

CHAPTER VIII.

BUFFALO BILL IN CHARGE,

Probably never had Nomad’s “whiskizoos”. received
stich a severe setback as they did that momentous morn-
ing in Hackaday.

“Hoop-a-la!’” cackled the baron; “der ‘viskizoos’ haf
prought Puffalo Pill und Vild Pill!”

““Whiskizoos,’ eh?” grinned Hickok. “If Nomad had
got down to his ‘whiskizoos’ you fellows must have been
in a bad way.” :

“What's wrong?’ demanded the king of scouts, pull-
ing off his riding gauntlets and chucking them, together
with his hat, into a corner. “We met a lot of men out-
side who didn’t want to let us come in. One of them
said he was the deputy sheriff, and that he was holding
three prisoners in here who claimed to be pards of Buf-
falo Bill’s. When I told him I was Buffalo Bill the
deputy almost fell over.”

The scout unbuckled his revolver belt, buckled it
together again and hung the heavy circlet froma nail in
the wall. ae

“Py shinks,” cooed the baron, feeling happy and secure
once more, “ve haf peen hafing der time oof our lives!
Dot's righdt! Und it almost cost us our lives, py shinks!
Vat a goot ting it iss dot a feller has bards!”

“Whar ther blazes hev you fellers been?” demanded
old Nomad. “Ye allowed ye’d meet us hyer in Hack-
aday in two days, an’ et’s been nigher five.”

“We've been having the time of our lives, too,” laughed
Wild Bill. “We'll match you for lively times, you old
juniper. We ran into a gang called the Diamond

Coterie, hard by the town of Doolittle, and when we left.

the settlement the Coterie had been split up and locoed
and the town had changed its name to Do-a-lot.”. Hickok
pulled up a chair. “Pass the bacon and everything else,”

{

  

 

 

 

      

  
   

 

 

 

 

   

THE BUFFALO

he went on, “I haven’t been so hungry since I was
snowed in up in the Bitter Root Mountains and had to
‘eat my boots. Where are a couple of plates and two
sets of knives and forks? Gee-snakes, pards, can’t you
understand that Pard Cody and I are hungry?”

Little Cayuse, his face bright and his eyes gleaming,
hustled around for more tableware, A fresh supply of
bacon sizzled in the pan.

“Who took keer 0’ yore hosses?” asked Nomad.

“T told the deputy sheriff to have ’em looked after,”
said the scout.

“And that same deputy told us we couldn’t come in
here,’ chimed in Wild Bill, “and we took the gun away
from the man at the door and managed to insert our-
selves into the chuckroom. Why, blame it, we'd have
walked over a regiment in order to get our whack of
grub. Rattle ’°em up, Cayuse, rattle “em up! Didn't I
just allow that Thirst and Famine had ridden into this
rodeo?”

“But what happened ter keep ye away?!’ insisted old
Nomad.

“We saved an old rancher from ‘oe robbed by the
Diamond Coterie,” proceeded Wild Bill, “and the scout
put up a notice to pay the Coterie all that was coming.
Naturally, amigos, we couldn't leave Doolittle until the
debt was canceled.”

“There were five in the gang,’ explained the scout,
“but only four in the Coterie, The Coterie shifted the
cut on the old rancher, ringing in a nephew who was
crooked instead of the other nephew who was straight.
We got the matter untangled, finally, and left the boss
of the Coterie in the Doolittle yamen. The other three
men who made up the Coterie, I’m sorry to say, got
clear. They headed in this direction, we're told, and it
is quite possible Hickok and I will met them again.”’*

“What's the sweat in Hackaday, pards?”’ inquired
Wild Bill, “TI like my bacon rare, Cayuse, if that'll hurry
it some.” :

“Eferypody’s in a sveat in Hackatay,” averred the
baron, “aber it vas mostly me, und Nomat, und Cayuse.
Ach, vat a time. Fairst, dot :teputy feller say dot ve
don’t peen der bards oof Putfalo Pill.”

“What?” came from both Bills in a burst of aston-
ishment.

“That's right,” spoke up old Nomad. “An ombray was
shot, an’ robbed on ther Lone Star trail. Yesterday morn-
in’ we diskivered a saddlebag on our back doorstep
marked with the initials o’ the man thet got shot an’
robbed. How it*come thar none o’ us kin savvy. Thet
thar deperty blew in on us, seen the saddlebag, an’ put
us under arrest as being the killers an’ thieves.”

For a space Wild Bill forgot that he was hungry.
Amazed, he and Buffalo Bill dropped back in their
chairs,

“Fm givin’ et to ye steioht 7 averred the trapper.
“When we told the deperty sheriff we was pards o’ Buf-
fler Bill’s, he said we was tryin’ ter hide ourselves under
good names while we was committin’ our lawless acts. He
says further thet when we come inter Hackaday we al-
lowed thet Buffler Bill would j’‘ine us in a couple o’ days.
Waal, Buffler hadn’t come, so the hull yarn we told looked
fishy,”

*See No. 474 Biunvatio BILL STORIES, “Buffalo Bill’s Promise
to Pay; or The Diamond Coterie.”

’

 

 

 

BIEL. STORIES.

  

“We're some responsible for this bag of tricks, Pard
Cody,” remarked Wild Bill. “A dunderheaded deputy
sheriff seems to have heen responsible for everything
else,”’

“Go on, Nick,
of it.
talk.”

Nomad talked as requested, and occasionally the baron
got in a few hundred words edgeways. When both were
done, the scout and the Laramie man understood every-
thing, even to the trouble Cayuse had had with the
two men when he saved the coyote dog—that is, they
understood the situation although deeply mystified about
the saddlebag and the belt and revolver.

TA. queer proposition, and no mistake,” remarked the
scout, “but there wasn’t the slightest excuse for Quinby
stirring you fellows up as he did,”

“Saphead, this Quinby person,’ said Wild Bill. “Did
he think, for a brace of shakes, that the fellows who
turned that trick on the Lone Star trail would stay right
herein town? I'd like to pay my respects to Quinby!’’

The next moment Wild Bill had the chance. The dep-
uty sheriff darkened the door and came slowly into the
kitchen.

“Well?” said Buffalo Bill, whirling around in his
chair and taking the deputy’s up-and-down measure.

“T want to inform you,’ said the deputy, “that we
don’t know whether you two junipers are Buffalo Bill
noe ae Bal of not./

D’you think we had anything to do with that two-
le dollar haul?’ roared fickle) “Tf there’s a
place for the feeble-minded anywhere in Texas, what are
you doing so far from home?”

“You heard me say that Iam
inquired the scout.

OLiids yes (bit

“Don’t butt in, please don’t,” suggested Wild Biull.
“When Pard Cody has something on his mind, just stand
ae and let him get rid of it. A word for the wise
and a kick for a fool. It’s up to you to class yourself,
Quinby.”

“T tell you once more, Quinby,” said the scout, “that
I’m Buffalo Bill. You’ve never seen me before and you
don’t know me; but if you ever see me again you will
know me, I can promise you that. Just now you will
have to take my word. My name’s Cody, otherwise Buf-
falo Bill. The gentleman who arrived with me is Hickok,
otherwise Wild Bill. These three who were here wait-
ing for us are my pards, old Nomad, the baron and
Little Cayuse. We should have arrived in Hackaday
some three days ago, but we were unavoidably detained
farther east. Is the explanation satisfactory?”

“It is; still——-’

“Further,” continued the scout, “I am not accustomed
to having tin horns around me. My pards have been ac-
cused of theft, and worse; their word has been doubted ;
and they, themselves, have been subjected to inconveni-
ences. Was that right? Was it warranted?”

“Tt may not have been right, considerin’ that they’re
really yore pards,’ answered the deputy sheriff, “but

99

said the scout, ‘‘and tell us the whole
Here comes our breakfast, and while we eat you

a9

Buffalo Bill, didn’t you?”

 

'ye don’t know, I take it, of the saddlebag I found here—
Jass Lee’s saddlebag and belt and revolver.”

“We've been told about them, yes,”

returned the scout.

  

 
 

14

“My pards explained to me that these were found outside
the kitchen door, and that they don’t know how the things
came there. Their word is good enough for anybody.
Now that you know who they are, will you accept what
they say in good faith?”
Quinby hesitated.
“T’m in charge here now, you know, Quinby,” contin-
ued the scout. ‘“You’ve done a good deal that [’m
tempted to overlook, providing you acknowledge the error
of your way and make a change in your plans. Think
well before you answer.”

The deputy sheriff took a full minute to ponder the
matter. The business-like air of the scout may have had
something to do with the decision at which he presently
arrived,

“Of course, Buffalo Bill,” said he, “anything ye tell
me goes. But I’ve got to do somethin’ to bag the scoun-
drels who did that work on the Lone Star trail.”

“We'll all buckle in and help you with that piece of
work. The cards have fallen in such a manner that we
can't very well get around giving you our aid.” But
- we've got to work together as friends; we can’t succeed
at anything if we’re suspecting each other of underhand
doings.”

“Tf ye’ll help me unravel the mystery,” declared Quin-
by, “that’s all I ask.”

“Buenos!” said the scout. “Now mosey along outside
and wait for us. A plan is already taking shape in my
mind and I'll tell you about it in a few minutes.”
Very humbly the deputy sheriff turned on his heel and
left the shanty. ,

‘Lightning was ready to strike,” grinned Wild Bill,
“and he dodged. Sensible man!”

“It vas as goot as a show!” cried the baron gleefully.
“Vat’s der use of lifin’ oof you don’t got some bards?”

“Ye say ye’ve got er plan, Buffler, fer gittin’ to the
bottom o’ this,” put in old Nomad.

solvin’ the myst’ry o’ thet saddlebag an’ thet belt an’
revolver ?”

“Exactly,” laughed the scout. “It’s not only simple,
but it will be effective. Ill tell you about it in half a
minute,” :

(eee

:
CHAPTER IX.
THE PROWLER.

Buffalo Bill finished his. breakfast, then went into the
living room and filled and lighted his pipe and took a
comfortable chair. His pards trailed after him, eager
to hear the plan he had to propose for solving the
" mystery.

“Here’s the first point,’ elucidated the scout. “A
prowler is bringing to this shanty, and mysteriously
leaving here, certain articles that belonged to Jasper Lee,
who was slain and robbed on the Lone Star trail. This
prowler may, or may not, have been the man who com-
mitted the crime; at any rate, he has some strange pur-
pose in view in bringing and leaving at the kitchen door
such scraps of. evidence. For two nights, now, the

prowler has been at his queer work. Very likely he will
come again to-night. If we want to find out who he is,
and what object he has in mind, why not lay for him?”

 

THE BUFFALO.

“D’ye mean fer -

that we're going to watch for the prowler.

  

BILL STORIES.

“Great horned toads!” muttered Wild Bill. “Why,
pard, that’s the enly thing to do. As you said, not only
the simplest thing but also the most effective.” —

“Kerect,’ spoke up Nomad. “I reckon I mout hey
thort o’ thet myself ef the comin’ o’ Pard Buffler hadn’t
sort 0’ jolted all the hoss sense out o’ me.”

“Who do you t’ink der feller iss?’ inquired the baron.

“Mebby et’s ther deperty sher’ff,”” said the old trapper
darkly. “I wouldn’t put et past him none. Accordin’
ter my notion he’s been goin’ out o’ his way ter make
us fellers trouble.”

“You're wrong, pard,’” answered the scout. “Quinby
is a man of poor judgment, but he hasn’t been wilfully
trying to give you the worst of it. He thought he was
doing something remarkably bright when he suspected
you, but he’s thinking differently about it now.”

“It vas some fool blays, I bed you,” said the baron. “I

_ don’d like a feller mit shnap chudgement like dose. Oof
you hatn’t got here schust ven you dit, der ‘viskizoos’

vould haf put Nomat, und Cayuse, und me oudt oof pitz-

‘ ness.”

- The trapper frowned at the Dutchman, but too late to
prevent that mention of the “whiskizoos.”
“Pard Nomad thought the ‘whiskizoos’ were at work,
did he?” chuckled Wild Bill, ve
“Yah,” pursued the baron, “vat hat it all figured oudt
dot der ‘viskizoos’ vas keeping you fellers avay from

-Hackatay, und vas pringing does tings py our pack

door, und“vas making dot teputy fellers ugly mit us.
Say, ‘viskizoos’ iss.mighdy gonvenient t’ings to plame for

_somet’ing ven you don’d got nodding else.”

“Certainly,” observed the scout with a humorous twin-
kle in his eyes, “our pards must have been hard pushed,
Hickok, if they had to unload their. troubles upon the
‘whiskizoos.’ ”

“T had ter explain et some way,” said Nomad. “Hyar
I was, the only yap in charge o? our partic’ler bunch o’
trouble. All the plannin’ an’ headwork fell tér me, an’
ye kin gamble yore spurs et wasn’t easy. I did ther best
I could. Mebbyso et didn’t amount ter much, but et was
my limit.”

“Well,” returned the scout, “let it pass, Nick. Hickok
and I will have to turn in, so it’s up to you to go out
and tell the deputy sheriff out plans for to-night. Swear
him to secrecy, though. We don’t want it to get out
f the
prowler should happen to hear of it, of course he wouldn't
come.” cs

“How many’s ter watch?”

“No one but Quinby and ourselves.”

Old Nomad, none too well pleased with the work that
had been given him, left the house for his talk with the
deputy. The two Bills hunted their bunks. They were
still sleeping at noon and old Nomad would not allow
them to be aroused. At three in the afternoon the scout
awoke and routed out Wild Bill,

“From the start you had, Hickok,” remarked the
scout, “it looked as though you were going to sleep all
night. We've got something on, you know, between this
and to-morrow morning.”

“Right-o!” said Wild Bill heartily. “I slept like a
log, pard, and it did me good.”

They began scrambling into their clothes.

  
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pea: 4 ere —_—
ici yin Maapcce ace cnt etc IE cr em iw

TE BUPEALO

a9

“T was hoping,’ said the scout as he dressed, “that we
might run across Breathitt and Thompson, and perhaps
Boswell, the three members of the Diamond Coterie who
gave us the slip. I won't consider that we have finished
with the Coterie until we have packed ‘them away and
made fast over all with a diamond: hitch.”

“Tm of your way of thinking, Pard Cody,” declared
Wild Bill, “and I hate to leave that. Coterie outfit with-
out throwing some sort of a hitch over the three mem-
bers of the gang still at large. We can hit that trail,
though, after we run out this one.” °

“One thing at a time, of course,” agreed the scout.
“We've got to help the deputy sheriff get a line on the
trouble-hunters of this section before we turn our at-
tention to anything else.”

“Meantime,” suggested Wild Bill, “we can be keeping
an eye out for some of the Coterie. They told us in
Doolittle that Breathitt and Thompson had headed in
this direction, and two or three times on the way here
we picked up some hot clues.”

“Breathitt and Thompson have gone to some hang-
out-or other. I imagine they’re pushing on towards New.
Mexico. Colonel Sneed, the big high boy of the Coterie,
you know, was planning some deal in the mining coun-
try. Perhaps Breathitt, Thompson and Boswell are
heading for the mines with the intention of pulling the
deal off.”

Wild Bill nodded.

“We'll get through here,” said he, “and then hustle
west. |

A few minutes later the scout and the Laramie man
rejoined their pards in the kitchen.

“I told thet Quinby person what ye said,’ reported
. Nomad.

“What did he think about the plan?’

“He allowed nothin’ ’u’d come of et, Buffler.”

“We might have expected that,” dropped in Wild Bill.

“You told him to keep it under his hat, did you, Nick?”
aSked the scout.

“Shore. He said he wouldn’t say nothin’, but I
wouldn’t trust thet thar ombray around ther corner.
I’ve still got er sneakin’ idee he was tryin’ ter frame
that up on us.”

The afternoon slipped away and the pards had supper.
After the evening meal, and when dusk began to fall,
the scout began placing his pards and the deputy sheriff
in favorable positions for watching the kitchen door.

The scout, the Laramie man and’ Little. Cayuse were
to do their watching from inside the house.. The deputy
was stationed in a rain-water barrel at the corner of the
kitchen. Nomad and the baron hid themselves at the
corral. :

There was no light in the kitchen and the door was
ajar. Sitting just within the door, Buffalo Bill, Wild
Bill and Little Cayuse had most advantageous positions.

“The fellow must be captured,’ whispered the scout.
“As soon as he shows himself in the door we must
make a surround.”

“Tt would be something of a joke,” said Wild Bill, “if
the yap proved to be a respectable inhabitant of the
town,”

“T’m looking for a surprise of some kind,” averred the
scout. “If we don’t develop an eye-opener this evening,

 
   
    

BILL, STORIES, 15

you can mark me down as not much of a prophet. By
the way, Cayuse, the man who owned this shanty went -
wrong, didn’t he?”

“Ai, Pa-e-has-ka,” replied the boy. “Him stole dinero

_ from tin horn; tin horn take um house to get even for

dinero. Nomad hire um house from tin horn.”

“By gorry!” breathed’ Wild Bill, “right there, pard,-is
material for a lot of underhand work. The former owner
of this hang-out has proved himself a thief—although I
can’t think it much of a crime to steal from a card sharp.
Still, the deputy sheriff knew all about that, and why
hasn’t he suspected the man who stole from the gambler
as being the same fellow who pulled off that robbery on
the Lone Star trail? About the first supposition I’d
have would land on a bet like that.”

“T shouldn’t wonder,” said the scout, “if the man who
stole from the gambler, or even the gambler himself,

might be mixed up in the Jasper Lee affair.”

“But why should either one of ’em, if they were mixed
up in it, come back and leave evidences of crime at this
door ?”’

“Perhaps to put our pards in a tight place.’

“It was a fool way of going about it. The saddlebag
proposition was all right, for it did look rather queer for
the bag to be here, and the story Nomad told about it,
everything considered, must have sounded fishy. But
the leaving of that belt and gun was a play that gets
beyond all reasoning. A gambler, who’s naturally rather
shrewd, wouldn’t make a move of that sort. He might
have dropped the saddlebag, but he wouldn’t have fol-
lowed it up by dropping the shooter anid the belt, know-
ing—as he must have done—that our pards were under
surveillance and secured inside the shanty.” a

“Tt’s all very mysterious,’ said the scout, “and I don’t
wonder that our pards were badly mixed in trying to
handle the difficulty. If we hadn’t lingered so long
around Doolittle, of course the trouble couldn’t have
come to Nomad, the baron and Cayuse, Suspicion fell
away from them mighty quick when we reached the
scene,”

“Tt was some'comical the way friend Quinby scrambled
to cover,” said Wild Bill, with a low laugh. “He didn’t
want to be at daggers drawn with the king of scouts.”

“J maintain, however, that Quinby is acting in entire
sood faith. He’s a little dense, that’s all. Our pards
were strangers here, and had kept themselves secluded,
to a certain extent. That’s what led to the deputy sher-

, iff’s theory that they were playing parts and trying to

hide something. If they were trying to hide something,
what could it be if not their underhand work on the
Lone Star trail? That’s the way the deputy figured it,
and ‘i

The scout broke off abruptly, the whispered words fad-.»
ing from his lips. Through the moonlight a form could
be seen approaching the kitchen door. It was a four-
footed form and was carrying something in its teeth,

A rasping breath escaped Little Cayuse.

“Ugh!” he muttered, his voice heavy with amazement.
“Him all same Diamond—coyote dog Cayuse save from
white men.”

“By gorry!” murmured Wild Bill.

“Well, what do you think of this!’ muttered the scout.
“Wait, Cayuse, and try and get hold of the dog when
he comes close.”

 

  
 

16 THE BUFFALO

CHAPTER X.

SOME MORE INITIALS.

Warily the coyote dog came on through the moon-
light. He reached the step, dropped there the object he
was carrying in his teeth, and stood for a moment
_ sniffing the air.

The time had come for Little Cayuse to act: Just as
he. started toward the door, a movement in the rain-
water barrel caused him to whirl and race away. ©

Crack?) 26

A revolver exploded, and the report was followed by a
howl of pain.

_A cry of anger escaped Little Cayuse’s lips.

“Another brilliant move by our friend, the deputy,”
was Wild Bill’s sarcastic comment.

“I got him! I got him!”
out of the barrel. ©

“If you have,” said the scout angrily, hurrying through
the door, “you’ve spoiled our plans. I don’t know but
you've spoiled them, anyway.- What did you mean by
shooting?”

“I wanted to get the dog, 0’ course,” retorted Quinby.

“What good would that have done?”

The deputy sheriff seemed at a loss.

“Why,” said he, “ain’t that what we was here for?
Wasn't we layin’ for the prowler?” :

“We were planning to capture him. Cayuse knows the
dog, and, if you hadn’t butted in with your revolver
play, he would have got him—and got him as we wanted

moa”

“You're the bobble boss, all right,” grunted Wild Bill.
“You can make more breaks in less time and with no
excuse than any man I ever saw in my life.”

“If you wanted to capture the dog alive, why didn’t
ye say so?’ demanded the deputy sheriff grumpily.

“We didn’t know it was a dog,” said the scout. “Tf it
had been a man, Quinby, would you haye tried to get him
with your revolver?” ;

Cayuse had run on to see what had become of Dia--

mond. The brute had vanished.

“Him no kill Diamond,” reported the’ Piute, returning.

to the kitchen door; ‘Diamond make um tracks.”

By then, old Nomad and the baron had come from
the corral. Both had heard enough to know what had
happened, and both were fuming,

“I don’t know how ther nation ye ever got ter be
deperty sher’ff,” remarked the old trapper scornfully.

“I did what I thought I was here to do,” said Quinby.

“Oh, your intentions were all right,” spoke up Wild
Bill, “but there’s a warm place paved with good-inten-
tions. Speaking free, as between men and fellow sports,
™ I wish your intentions had been where they belonged be-
fore you evér tried to carry them out.”

“Blamed if I can see what harm I’ve done.”

“Look here, Quinby,” said the scout patiently. “Little
Cayuse, when he was in the hills the other day, saw two
rough-looking men mistreating a dog. Cayuse has a
heart in the right place, and I’m glad to say that he in-
terfered and saved the dog from the two white scoun-
drels. He made friends with the animal, and brought
him to town. But the dog wouldn’t go in the house, and,

the night after Cayuse brought him in, he mysteriously

vanished,

BIEL STORIES. \

growled Quinby,. jumping

“It’s common report in the West that a coyote dog

never forgets an injury or a kindness, and that he will
show his hate or his gratitude. From what we have
seen here to-night I venture to say that there is some
truth in the report. The first night, the dog found the
place where those two men were staying, and brought
in a saddlebag belonging to Jasper Lee. -

“The next night the dog brought in Lee’s belt and
revolver. Diamond, the dog, was visiting the camp of
the two scoundrels regularly apd purloining evidence of
their criminal work, bringing it into town and laying it

- at the door of Little Cayuse, whom he knew to be a

friend. Those are the facts ,and we can’t turn our backs
on them, The facts, under ordinary: circumstances, would
be hard to believe, but we’ve got to believe what we see.”
“Bosh!” protested the deputy.
“That sort of talk, Quinby,’ said the scout sharply,
“doesn’t prove or disprove anything.”

“Ye think that them two men the little Injun found in —

the hills are the ones who done up Jass Lee an’ robbed
him?” asked the deputy. :

“I don’t think anything about it; I know it absolutely.
The dog has brought in evidence that can’t be disputed.”

“How d’ye know the dog got thesevidence from them
two men?”

“By the exercise of a little reason.”

“Well, that’s what I call jumpin’ at a conclusion.”

“If you’d jump at a few more conclusions in the same
way, cut in Wild Bill, with evident disgust, “you'd do
your mental powers a lot of credit. But it’s too much to
expect of you, Quinby.”

“I figger things out accordin’ to my lights,” said the
deputy sheriff sullenly.

“I warrant you! But, amigo, your lights are rather
dim,”

“To go on,” pursued the scout, “the coyote dog, know-
ing where the guilty men are concealed, could, if han-
dled right, have led us to the place. Now you've fright-
ened the animal off. It’s doubtful whether he ever comes
back to this shanty again. The only reason he came here
was because Cayuse, who had been kind to him, was in
the place. Your making a target of the dog has prob-
ably turned him against Cayuse.” ~

“I don’t think ye’re right,’ persisted the obstinate offi-
cer. “Anyway, I never believed in that yarn about coy-
ote dogs» It’s too farfetched.”

“Waugh!” curgled old Nomad.
this hyar deperty, Buffler, an’
hirh.”

You'll not fall on me,”
ye try it ye pay for it,”

“I'd be glad ter pay somethin’ fer et.”

“Steady!” interposed the ,scout. “No bickering,
friends. A mistake has been made, and the only way to

ot tite ter fall on
pound a leetle sense inter

snarled the deputy, “and if

correct it is to wait—until to-morrow night and. see

whether the dog comes back or not.”

_“Mebbyso he’s so badly hurt he kain’t come back,” said
the trapper.

“Possibly.”

‘An’ mebbyso he won’t come back, anyways.”

“That's also possible. Nevertheless, amigos, we've got
to wait and trust to luck. If Diamond doesn’t come
back to-morrow night, we'll go out into the hills, and
try to locate either him or the two men.”

“Tt will be a by-guess-and-by-gosh hunt,” averred

 

ae

ie . Bc? tee
    

1p nen eee te

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

Hickok. “We had a dead open and shut on it until
Quinby began using his pepper box. Now, if we win
out, it will be by a scratch.”

“We'll have to face conditions as they are,” said the
scout, stepping to the door and picking up the object that
lay there. “This is a slouch hat. Did Jasper on lose
his hat during the robbery, Quinby ?”

“Naw. His hat was with him when he was found,”

“Suppose we go into the shanty, strike a light, arid see
what this hat looks like?”

“I’m agreeable,’ assented the deputy, “but the dog
didn’t bring any evidence this last trip—assumin’ he was
tryin’ to bring evidence, which is more’n [’ll believe.”

They went into the living room of the shanty, and
Nomad scratched a match and lighted the lamp. The
scout stepped close to the table, and held the hat under
the rays of the lamp.

The hat had once been gray in color, but much use and
exposure had darkened it. A carved leather band en-
circled the hat, and on one side.the band bore the initials

oe

The scout tossed the dingy headgear to Wild Bill,
There was a queer look on his face.

“Rack your memory, Hickok,”
you've ever seen that hat before.”

“Hm,” mused the Laramie man, turning the hat over
and over in his hand. “Seems sort of familiar.”

“Look at the initials carvedeon the band.”

“<7 B.,’” muttered Hickok, frowning as he reflected.
Suddenly his face cleared, and he gave the scout a quick,
startled glance. ‘Not Breathitt ?” he asked.

“Why not? John Breathitt!”

“Then—then

“Then,” went on the scout, “it follows that we are
playing in better luck ‘than we had dreamed of. The two
men who were mistreating the coyote dog must have
been Breathitt and Thompson. We have a line on the
trouble hunters.”

“A line thet Quinby chopped in two with thet thar
bullet o’ his,” growled old Nomad.

“We'll do what we can to pick up the loose end of the
line, and follow it up,” said the scout.

“By gorry,” murmured Wild Bill, “all I can say is, that
this whole affair is turning out to be a brain twister. I’m
close to believing that Nick’s ‘whiskizoos’ are really mixed
up in it. Breathitt and Thompson are the very men we
want to locate—and the ones we were going to start out
and try to locate as soon as we finished with this Jasper
Lee business: now, all at once, that hat lands on us with
a jolt that rattles my spurs. This Lee affair*turns out to
be more Coterie work! Well, well, well!”

The Laramie man flung the hat on the table, and
dropped into a chair.

“What’s next to be done?” inquired Quinby.

“You go home and go to bed,” said Buffalo Bill. “To-

sdid he; “tell me if

 

 

 

 

 

 

BILL STORIES. | 7

morrow night we'll see AUCEE or not the coyote dog
returns, ©

The deputy, heartily condemned by the baron and the
trapper, seemed glad enough to leave the house.. For all
of two hours the pards talked, and it was after midnight
when they turned in—the scout to do considerable think-
ing before he went to sleep.

The scout was wakened, in the early morning, by
Cayuse. :

“What’s up, boy?” inquired Buffalo Bill, inferring
easily from the look Cayuse gave him that something
important had come: to pass.

“Pa-e-has-ka come “long with Cayuse,”
little Piute. “Me show um red trail.”

Dressing as quickly as he could, Buffalo Bill followed
the Piute boy out of the house. Cayuse, it quickly trans-
pired, had made a discovery of tremendous importance.

returned the

CHAPIER XT

THE RED: TRAIE.

On the hard, beaten earth a little distance from the
doorstep was a smear of red. While the scout and Ca-
yuse were examining the crimson smudge, old Nomad
and Wild Bill hurried out of the house.

“What's new ?” asked the Laramie man.

“Something I might at least have suspected if I’d
thought hard enough,” answered the scout. “It re-
mained for our Piute pard to dig it up. Diamond left
a trail last night. Quinby made a bobble with his shoot-
ing, byt something has come of it. Look there.”

The Laramie man and the trapper bent over the red
stain. |

“Er-waugh!” exclaimed Nomad.
an’ he left a trail.”

“With his life blood, perhaps,” said the scout.

Cayuse, whose face rarely,expressed his feelings, now
suffered a little sympathy for the injured dog to show.

“Pobre, pobre Diamond!” he muttered. “Him heap
fine dog. Noslike um he git hurt.”

“T don’t like to see a dumb animal imposed upon my-
self,” observed the scout, “but now that the injury has
been done, it’s our business to profit by it, if possible, and
capture the men who did that desperate work on the Lone
Star trail. It may be, Cayuse,’ he added, out of con-
sideration for the boy’s feelings, “that we can find the
dog and do something for him.”

“Ai, mebbyso.”

“If the dog pegs out,” speculated Wild Bill, “the trail
is liable to be short and lead nowhere.”

The scout nodded.

“And, again,’ went on the Laramie man, how do we

“Ther dorg was hurt

know the dog made in the direction of the place where he
got all that plunder he has ‘been retrieving? When an

  
 

x8 THE BUFFALO

animal like the coyote dog is hurt, he gets as far away
from everybody and everything as he can, and holes
himself away to see whether he lives or dies.”

“Another shot in the ‘bull’s-eye, Hickok,” said the
scout. ‘““The quicker we find the dog, and do something
for him, the better it will be*all around. Perhaps we
can patch the animal up so he can lead us ns the men
we want to eae f

“Right- Oo:

Cayuse, and Nomad, and the baron had been ito
ing the red trail. The red was scattered at intervals, but
a keen eye could easily follow. it. The trail led away in
the direction Cayuse and the dog had covered when com-.
ing into town. Of ae

“We'll have our breakfast, pards,” said the scout, “and
then we'll ride. Baron, you and Nick hustle up the
chuck. oe you find (Quinby, and send him here on
the jump.” :

“What’s ther use o’ hevin’ anythin’ ter do with thet

false alarm, Buffler?” Nomad, on his way back to the

kitchen, halted to inquire.

“Dot’s vat I say,’ chimed in the cn ‘Dot Kyinby
feller don’d vas any goot. Obf ve take him along he
vill only make some more popples und Backcap us vorse
as efer.”

“We've got to take him with us,” declared the scout.
“He must see with his own eyes all there is to be- seen.
If he didn’t, you know, he’d never take our word for
it. It was the deputy sheriff, compadres, who first sus-
pected Nick, the baron, and Cayuse of complicity in that
work on the Lone Star trail; so it follows that Quinby
must be in at the finish.” — .

There was logic in this, and the trapper and the baron
could not fail to connect with it. They went on into the
kitchen, and Little Cayuse hurried toward the main street
of the town to find the deputy sheriff.

“Cody luck seems to be rubbing elbows with us, pard,’
grinned Wild Bill, as he and the scout seated themselves
on the ground on the sunny side of the corral fence.

“Well, yes,” said the scout. “We got here in time to
save our pards some unpleasantness, the hat gave us a
line on trouble-hunters we’re anxious to locate, and now
this red trail is Sage highly important developments,
It’s luck, to be sure,’

“And branded with the tenteicn iW. Ce mark.”

“Fave it that way if you're so determined,” laughed
the scout.

“But have you been noticing our little Piute pard?
Never before have I seen his feelings show themselves so
plain. That coyote dog has touched him in a tender
place.”

“Ym glad to see it, Hickok. Such a humane feeling
' for a dumb animal proves the sterling worth of the hoy,

BILL STORIES.

Any lad, red or white, who can take the part of a mis-

used animal, and feel for its sufferings, has grains of ,

gold in his nature.”

“Correct. What Dunks did, though, doesn’ t set very
well. with Cayuse. I believe the boy would have shot
uaby with as little compunction as Quinby shot. the
dog.”

“Another angle of Cayuse’s disposition—the Indian

angle. Ah!” the scout added, “here comes’ the deputy
now? He must have been ali ready for the trail when
Cayuse found him.”

Across the open space separating the pards from the
main street of the town came the deputy sheriff, mounted
and with his horse at a gallop. Cayuse, on foot, was
following at a little distance.

“Discovered somethin’ of importance?” inquired Oui
by as he pulled his horse to a halt in front of the pards.

“We've found a trail leading into the open country,”
answered the scout, “a trail which, I hope, will carry us
to the two. men we want to: find.”

“What sort of a trail?”

“Ride this way and I’ll show you.”

Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill got up and moved toward
the rear of the shanty. There the scout indicated the
smear of red.

“Where’ d that come from?’ asked the deputy, batting
his eyes blankly,

“Why,” cried Wild Bill, “blamed if he can even work
out a simple puzzle of that sort!”

The scout was surprised at the deputy’s thick-headed-
ness.

“You remember wounding the coyote dog, last night,
don’t you?” the scout queried.

Thereupon Quinby understood the situation.

“Some brilliant that, don't ye think?” he cried, siapping
his hands in great gusto. “Come to think of it, that
notion was uppermost in my mind when I fired at the
dog.”

“Now, Quinby,” interposed Wild Bill, “don’t you let
a desire to brag put you in a bad light. You hadn’t the
least notion of making the dog leave a red trail for us
when your gun went off. Don’tetake credit for a hap-
penchance.”

“Test the same,” insisted the deputy, ad was ea
about it when I fired.”

“Why didn’t you mention it when we were all calling

you down for a misplay ?’’

“I forgot it, you fellows jumped onto me so hard a
“Oh, yes, ae forgot it,”
Laramie man’s words.

Quinby was steadily dropping in the estimation a ii
the pards.

and there was a sneer in the.

He was a, specimen of a type frequently , eae
countered in ae West—a type that has little wit, a good :

 

 

de
te

fc
ic

W
tk
th

01
 

 

THE BUFFALO

deal of assurance, and is nine-tenths bluff and the other
tenth mediocre ability.

“Never mind quarrelling over the whys and where-
fores,” said the scout. ‘“Here’s the trail, and we’re to
follow it immediately after breakfast.”

“Where d’ye think it leads?” inquired Quinby.

“It leads to the dog,” answered Wild Bill dryly.

“What good’s the dog to us?”

“Tve explained that once, Quinby,” said the scout.
“The dog knows the way to the place where the two
white scoundrels have their hang-out. If we can find
the. dog we can perhaps get the animal to take us to
the men.”

“That thee’ry is too farfetched to make any hit with
me,” declared Quinby.

“You and your farfetched notions are the limit,”
growled Wild Bill, turning on his heel and making for
the house.

“He’s a jealous old sore head, ain’t hé?’” observed the
deputy, looking after the Laramie man. ‘He won’t give
anybody credit for anythin’.”

The scout, at that, likewise felt like spinning around
on his heel and taking’ an abrupt departure.

“You’re mistaken, Quinby,” said he. “There’s not a
dishonest hair in Bill Hickok’s head, nor an ugly taint
in his whole body. He’s a man of worth with a saving
sense of humor, and he’s as sharp as a steel trap and as
quick in his mental work.”

3

“You fellows all hang together,” grunted Quinby.
“Naturally, being pards.”

At that moment old Nomad shaved himself in the
kitchen door and loudly announced “chuck pile.”

39

“Wait here for us, Quinby,” said the scout. “It won’t
be many minutes before we join you.”

The scout hurried into the shanty.

“Say,” remarked Wild Bill as they bolted their food,
“if I was with that Quinby juniper very much he'd get
on my nerves something terrible. And my nerves, as
you know, Pard Cody,:are pretty near fool-proof.”

“He’d get on mine, too,” answered the scout. “But
we won't have to put up with him long, pards. The red
trail, I think, will be soon run out.”

When the pards left the house to go to the corral and
get their horses, Quinby was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s become o’ him, d’ye reckon?’ asked Nontad.

“Looks as though he'd taken the bit in his teeth and
gone chasing along the trail by his lonesome,” ruminated
the Laramie man.

“We'll not bother with him any longer,” said the scout.
“It’s rather important that we have him along with us,
but I reckon the price we’d pay for his company would
be too heavy.”

Horsesawere brought out of the corral and saddled.

BILL STORIES. « : 19

The pards swung to the backs of their mounts and
Cayuse shacked away in the lead, alert eyes watching
constantly for red spots on the earth.

The boy was a magnificent trailer, and the pards were
well content to let him take the lead and set the pace.

So well did the boy follow the red trail that the riders
left town at a gallop, their course continuing to take them
along the Pecos and over the route which the boy and
the-dog had covered on their way into town.

 

\ CHAPTER XII.

THE VANISHED CLUE.

Without much difficulty the pards followed the crimson
spots to the little plain and the fringe of bowlders where
Little Cayuse had had his encounter with Breathitt and
Thompson. Along the trail they discovered fresh tracks
of a shod horse, indisputable evidence that Quinby had
preceded them, in spite of the gcout’ s orders to wait and
travel in company.

‘“What’s the deputy’s notion for going it alone?” asked
Wild Bill.

“Tf there’s any credit to be had for running down the
slavers and thieves,’ answered the scout, “I reckon
Quinby wants to make sure of it.”

“That’s his calibre! Anyhow, to give him his due, he’s
not half bad at tracking. The red trail has been any-
thing but easy to follow, and vet omy must a fol-
lowed it about as swiftly as we’re doing.”

“Livin’ in er kentry like this,’ commented the old
trapper, “he ort ter be a good hand at trailin’.”

Down the creek bank and across the creek the dog
had gone, mounting the opposite bank and faring straight
on along the es ~

“Tt looks to me,” hazarded ie. scout, “as though Dia-
mond wasn’t trying to stow himself away in the hills and
worry through with his wound. Breathitt and Thomp-
son must have been traveling this way when Cayuse
encountered them, and the dog’s course appears to in-
dicate that he’s after the men.”

This was the general opinion. At a distance of per-
haps two miles beyond the creek, Diamond had appar-
ently crossed the Pecos. On the farther bank of the
Pecos, however, the trail could not be picked up. Under
the scout’s direction, both banks of the river were fol-

_ lowed up and down but without offering any further

sign of the course taken by the dog.

“Our crimson clue has vanished,” said the scout, as
he and his baffled pards rounded up on the farther bank.

“Ther dorg must hev crossed ther river,” asserted
Nomad.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Or else,” qualified Wild Bill, “his strength gave out

while he was swimming the river and he was carried
¢

set linn feat hors et eg on ep

 
20

downstream. That notion seems mighty reasonable to
me. If he got across, where’s the red ees OL Itt
“Ther wound may a clotted over,” suggested the
trapper.
“The water of the Pecos would have prevented that.”
“Anyvays,
und ve’re oop against someding else.
“moot?” ;
“T can’t find any trace of the deputy’s horse, either,”
went on Wild Bill. “The deputy came across, plain
enough, and the mud at the water’s edge ought to have
. held some account of his passing,”
“Quite likely, Pard Hickok,” reflected the scout,
“Quinby may have ridden down stream, or up, in the
water—to a farther point than we have carried our in-

Vat’s der nexdt

 

vestigations. But it isn’t the deputy who’s bothering
me but :
“Suppose,” broke in the trapper, “thet Quinby caught

up with ther dorg an’ finished him?
further, he finished him in ther river?”

“Why should he have done that?”

“Waal, ef Quinby was mixed up in thet shootin’ on
ther Lone Star trail, he’d be anxious ter wipe out ther
dorg, wouldn’t he?”

“Now, to use a term of Quinby’s,” said the scout
“you're getting a little farfetched | P aurselt Nick. You're
hostile toward Quinby. You have reason to be, of course,
but don’t let your hostility cloud your understanding.

Suppose, ter go

Bae

We know that Breathitt and Thompson did the shoot- .

ing and robbing on the Lone Star trail, and consequently
Quinby had nothing whatever to do with it.

_“The trouble with Quinby just now is that he’s over-
ambitious. He wants to get ahead of us and be first
to reach the end of the line that connects us with the
trouble-hunters. But don’t waste any more good time
guessing about the deputy sheriff. I’m fairly positive
that Diamond is somewhere in the open country that
faces us on this side the Pecos. In order to cover the
most ground, and have a blind search reach somewhere,
we'll have to divide our force. Nick, you and the baron
move to the north. Cayuse, you go to the south. Hickok
and I will push directly ahead.

“The course to the south is the most likely one, and
for that reason, 1 want Cayuse to cover it alone. He and
Diamond are friends. If the dog should see him in the
hills, the chances are that he would join Cayuse at once
—providing the boy is alone. If the dog saw any one
else vi our Piute pard, the brute would be scared
away.”

“Wuh!” said Cayuse, recognizing at once the aptness
of the scout’s instructions.

“Suppose we find somethin’?” asked the trapper.
“How’re we goin’ ter let the rest know erbout et?”

“Those of us who are traveling in pairs,”
scout grimly,

answered the

“ought to be able fo handle Breathitt and

 

THE BUFFALO

put in the baron, “der ret drail iss gone,

BILL STORIES,

Thompson if the men are met. As for Cayuse, he’s look-

ing for the dog.

men.”

From the crest of the river bank the scout pointed |
westward across the tops of the low hills to\the point |
of a butte that showed itself darkly against the sky.. The |
uplift was of odd contour, and there could be no mis- —

taking it.

“At that butte, also,’
us will round up—say, in three hours.
Cleary

“T savvy,” nodded Nomad.

“Ai!” said Cayuse.

“Then ride,” said the scout, as his spurs jingled.

went on the scout,

Right, left and straight ahead the little party divided,

soon striking the hills and vanishing.

Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill, entering a sandy gully with
shallow walls, drew to a slow pace and proceeded slowly,
their alert eyes roving all around them for “signs.”

“That butte, Pard Cody,” remarked the Laramie man,
“is an hour away as the crow flies. Do you think that
the region between the butte and the river is extensive
enough for the movements of Breathitt and Thompson?’

“but it is extensive
I don’t believe the dog is very

“Perhaps not,’ was the answer,
enough for Diamond.
far away from us,”

“Why is there more likelihood of the dog being to
the south of us than around in this part of the hills?”

“I guessed at that. We're about opposite the place
where Diamond took to the river. He’d hardly go back
north, would he, after coming south on the other side of
the Pecos? And there’s nothing to show that he went
due west, as we're going.
that bears to the south, where I sent Cayuse.”

“Keno. When we saw Breathitt and Thompson last,
they were locoed by that dope of the colonel’s, which they
took from me under the impression that it was plain
forty rod. The scoundrels must have got over the ef-

qaects pretty soon after getting clear of us.”

“T should think so.”

“It’s a wonder that, while they were off the j june, they |

didn’t hurt each other.”

“Roughs like Breathitt and Thompson are peck
against wonders. It’s odd how luck seems to come the
way of the trouble-hunter. Now, so far as we can judge
from what we have discovered in Hackaday, Breathitt
and Thompson must have been shacking along the Lone
Star trail at just about the time Jass Lee came down it
with his two thousand in gold. Here was an opportunity

that men like Breathitt and Thompson would lose no time _

in taking advantage of. The shot that downed Jasper
Lee must have come from the bushes at the,side of the

If he finds the dog, he’ll go to the foot |
of that butte, across there, and wait for Hickok and ’
me; and he'll do the same if he sees anything of the two |

“the lot of
Is everything |

The only course left is one

  

 

   

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trail, Breathitt and Thompson paused only long enough
to annex the saddlebags with the gold, the belt, and the
revolver, and then made off as they were going. I be-
lieve they were riding for some rendezvous, where they
were to meet Boswell, when they stopped to capture the
dog.”

“T follow you, that far. What else?”

“Why, the rendezvous must be somewhere in this sec-

tion, At almost any time we ought to pitk up a hot trail
that will lead us to it. If not the red trail, then the hoof-
prints of horses. All this country is good for tracking.”
While they talked, the pards did not for one moment
relax their alertness. Their eyes swept the ground over
which they were passing, took account of the low banks
on either side, and appraised the higher hills beyond.
“And that coyote dog,” spoke up Wild Bill, “paid
a visit every night to the rendezvous, stole something
from the camp of the trouble-hunters, and carried it to

47?

town as an offering for Little Cayuse!

“Instinct does not work according to the rules of rea-
son, pard,”’ said the scout, combatting the skepticism that
was manifested in the Laramie man’s voice and manner.
fact, instinct defies reason. Why the dog brought
that stuff to town and laid it at the kitchen door of the
shanty we cannot explain. But he was prompted by in-
stinct—perhaps by an instinct to get even with Breathitt
and Thompson. Who can say? Or it may have been a
mere desire to show his friendship for Cayuse.”

“There wasn’t must sense in bringing Breathitt’s hat—
considering, of course, that instinct was urging Diamond
on in an attempt to settle with the men who had misused
him.”

“Diamond, we may be fairly sure, took whatever he
could get at the rendezvous without exposing himself
to bullets or riatas. He sneaked into the camp and out
again, picking up the first object that came his way.
The first time, he found the saddlebag most convenient
for him; next, the belt and revolver; and, last, Breathitt’s
hat. Personally, I’m glad he brought the hat. It proved
the identity of the men and 2

The scout’s words were clipped short by the distant
report of a firearm.

“What’s that?” queried Wild Bill, both riders drawing
toa halt. “A gun—it came from over the bank on the
lett?

“Cayuse went in that direction,” called the scout,
swerving Bear Paw to the left and rushing him at the
slope.

A thought that Cayuse, who had gone looking espe-
cially for the dog, had encountered Breathitt and Thomp-
son instead, ran through the minds of both pards.

Wild Bill was close to the scout as the latter gained
the top of the gully bank. A small plateau stretched
away from the gully on that side. At the farther edge

 

THE BUFFALO

BILL STORIES ah

‘of the plateau a man could be seen struggling on the
ground. In the near distance a riderless horse was
racing toward the pards.

“Quinby’s horse!” exclaimed the scout.

“And, by the same token,” cried Wild Bill, “that man
yonder must be Quinby.”

“Catch the horse and I’ll hurry over and see what’s
happened to the deputy,” said the scout.

 

CHAPTER XIII.

QUINBY'S LAST ERROR,

Quinby, the scout quickly discovered, had been
wounded in the thigh. The hurt did not appear to be
serious, although it certainly rendered the man abjectly
helpless. To rise from the ground, or to attempt to
walk, or move, was painful to the last degree—and im-
possible.

A new and better side of the deputy’s nature mani-
fested itself as the scout knelt beside him.

“Don’t ye hang around here, Buffalo Bill,” groaned
Quinby. ‘Those two villains ye told about are the ones
who plugged me. They dropped out o’ sight over the
edge of the level. Go after ’em—get ’em!”

This was sensible advice and brought the deputy sev-
eral notches higher in the scout’s good opinion, Wild
Bill had already caught Quinby’s horse, and was riding
toward Quinby with the animal in tow.

“Tl go,” said the scout, springing up and leaping to
Bear Paw’s back. ‘Hickok will look after you.”

“Don’t fail to put the kybosh on those tin horns!’
Quinby called after the scout.

Forty feet from where Quinby was lying the little
plateau broke away into a small north-and-south valley.
The sand of the valley, close to the brink where the
scout made his observations, was cut up by the hoofs of
horses. The horses seemed to have slid and rolled from
the top of the bank to the bottom, but at that. moment
the riders were not in sight.

Buffalo Bill followed the plain trail the length of the
valley—perhaps half a mile—and then lost it in a creek,
a branch of the Pecos. He hunted for the trail, but with-
out finding it, and finally rode back to the plateau.

The Laramie man was busy binding up the deputy
sherift’s wound.

“Did ye lose ’em, Buffalo Bill?” called Quinby, as the
scout drew to a halt.

“T saw the tracks of the men’s horses,’ was the answer,
“but I wasn’t able to catch sight of them.”

“Why didn’t ye keep on?’

“Mainly because the scoundrels took to the water of |

a creek at the end of the valley through which their
tracks led; and because, too, I wanted a few words with

99

you.

     
  
 

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22 . THE BUET ALO

“I’ve told ye enough, hevn’t I? The villains came
within an ace of getting me.”

“Why did you leave townyahead of us, Quinby?” de-
manded the scout.

“T wanted to nab the killers before you an’ your pards
eot a chance at ‘em. That was an error—the last error
Vl make durin’ this round.”

“Did you see the dog?”

“No, I lost his trail at the Pecos.”

“You haven’t seen the animal since you crossed the
Pecos!

NO: 99
“How did you come to encounter Breathitt and
Thompson?”

“That was an accident, I reckon. I was goin’ it blind
across this strip of level Sround when the two men
climbed out of that swale. They were on hossback, and
the minute they clapped eyes on me one of “em blazed
away. I was nicked in the hip and rolled out of my
saddle. The measly skunks never came near me, but
dropped over the edge, there, before I could draw and
get in a shot on my own hook.”

The bandaging was finished, and Wild Bill lifted the
deputy to a sitting posture. The lifting wrenched a
groan from the injured man’s lips.

“What’re ye standin’ here for?” asked Quinby. -
don’t ye foller them whelps up? Now,
chance to nab ’em.”

“There's. no particular hurry,’ said the scout. “I
hadn’t any idea the scoundrels were so close to the Pecos.
My pards are scattered through the hills and we're bound
to lay the pair by the heels sooner or later.”

This assurance seemed to make the deputy a little
easier,

“Ye was wrong on one point,” said he.

“What point was that?” asked Wild Bill.

“Ye had a notion that the coyote dog toted a hat be-
longin’ to one o’ the killers to the shanty last night.
Well, he:didng.”7.7

“How do you know?”

“Because both the scoundrels had hats.”

Even in his best and most lucid moments the deputy
sheriff was apt to fall short in his deductions.

“Why
if ever, is the

“It’s just possible, Quinby,” said the Laramie man,
“that Breathitt had a spare hat with him. The coyote
dog couldn’t pull Breathitt’s hat from his head. It was
the spare hat, I reckon, that the me picked up and
brought to Hackaday.”

* “Like enough you're right,” murmured the deputy.
“Since I met up with Buffalo Bill an’ his pards I’m be-
ginnin’ to think I don’t amount to a whole lot as a
deputy sheriff. With this game leg, I’m a deadhead in
the enterprise from now on. ~{ thought of stealin’ a
march on ye, an’ here the killers have stolen a march
on me. Lift me to my saddle an’ I’ll go back to town.”

Nee

_ journey.

Wild Bill,

BILL STORIES.

“Do you think you can go alone?” asked the scout.

“T don’t know why I can’t. It won’t be comfortable
ridin’, but I’ll be well taken care of as soon as I hit the
settlement.”

“T could have one of my pards go sane you if you

“T’d rather you an’ all yer pards combed the hills for
those killers. When ye git ’em, bring ‘em to Hackaday
and I’ll have Gene an’ Rickner take “em to Lone Star.”

“Your min@ is perfectly clear as to who committed
that crime on the Lone Star trail?”

Toure.

33

 

“There isn’t any lingering suspicion that my pards

did it?”

“Nary. I was a fool, I reckon, to have any suspicions
of your pards in the first place;,but then, ye know, I
didn’t believe they were your pards.
horse an’ I’ll hike.”

The deputy sheriff was determined to start at once for
town, and seemed confident of his ability to make the
The quicker he got to town, of course, the
sooner he would receive medical attention.

Between them, the pards hoisted Quinby into his sad-
dle. It was torturing work for the deputy, but he ground
his teeth and bore up under it admirably.

“Tf you had a little more sense, Quinby,” said the
Laramie man bluntly, “you’d be a good deal of a man.”

“Never mind that now,” was the deputy’s response.
“Yake the riata and tie me to the saddle horn. lif I
give out on the road the horse’ll see that I get home.”

_His request was carried out.

“Tl manage it,’ said Quinby, when the tying was
done. ‘Don’t imagine, either of ye, that I don’t know
jest how much of a fool I’ve made of myself. But I acted
like I thought was right, exceptin’ when I made this
sashay into the hills ahead of the rest of you. I’ve paid
for that, though. Now you fellows will land the killers
and Til be out of it entirely. Adios! Tl see you later.”

He started off toward the Pecos, humped over his sad-
dle, swaying unsteadily and only keeping his senses by
clear grit.

The pards watched him until he left the eat and
got out of sight in the gully.

“T was thinking hard things about that rawhide,” said
“but his actions, during the last few min-
utes, have opened up another side of his character. He’s
suffering a lot, but he sticks it out like a major.”

“Now that he’s down and out, so far as the chase
after Breathitt and Thompson are concerned, he’s show-
ing himself in a better light.”

“He has only himself to blame because he’s cE and
out.”

“He understands that and admits it.”

“That’s what makes a hit with me. It

Abruptly the scout grabbed his pard’s arm, pulled him
around and pointed southward across the plateau.

 

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“T ook!” he exclaimed.

What the Laramie man saw was as startling as it was
unexpected.

A big, raw-boned dog was leaping across the lower end
of the level stretch of ground, tearing away into the dis-
tance at a tremendous speed. ‘His nose was to the

' ground, and he vanished over the plateau’s edge like a
tawny streak.

“By gorry!’ muttered Wild Bill. ‘Where has that
brute been all the while we’ve been trying to locate him ?”

“Doubling around trying to pick up the scent, I
reckon,’ answered the scout.

“Who’s he following ?”

“We'll find out, if we can. Horses, pard! If we can
keep close enough to the dog it’s a cinch that he’ll lead
us directly to Breathitt and Thompson.”

The pards ran to their horses, threw themselves into
their saddles, and darted toward the edge of the plateau.

Diste

3uffalo Bill laid the course toward the point where
he had descended into the shallow valley, a little while
before. The dog, it seemed certain, had dropppd into
the same valley, and a little time could be saved by get-
ting into the valley without doing any extra traveling.

At the break in the plateau a surprise awaited the

| pards. As they looked down into the valley they saw

the dog directly beneath them. He was nosing out the
cluttered hoofprints that had already claimed the scout’s
attention.

“It was from this place,’ muttered the scout, ‘that
Breathitt and Thompson knocked Quinby out of the race.
the two men fled, they went down the valley.”

  

“And the dog,” said Wild Bill, “followed them across
the lower end of the plateau, down into the valley and to
this place. There he goes, back down the valley !”

“After him, Hickok!’ and the scout started Bear Paw
down the steep slope.

The chase that followed was a wild one. At the creek,
where the scout had lost the trail of Breathitt and Thomp-
son, the dog circled and doubled. He was in a tre-
mendous hurry and seemed not at all incapacitated by
his wound. The hurt was not now leaving a gory trail,
and the scout had formulated a different theory to ac-
count for it.

The crimson ‘clue had been left during the night. Dia-
mond had reached the Pecos and had rested there, per-
haps for several hours. This had given the wound a
chance to heal a little. Later the dog had crossed the
Pecos, visited the rendezvous of the white men, found
them missing, and then picked up the scent and fol-
lowed it,

Now, urged on by blind, unreasoning instinct, Dia-
mond was leading the pards to a consummation of law
and justice,

THE, BUFFALO

AX

ME SCORES 23
CHAPTER XIV.
CAYUSE ENCOUNTERS THE UNEXPECTED.

Little Cayuse, it will be recalled, had been sent at a
southern angle into the hills in the hope that he would
find, or be found by, Diamond. But Cayuse did not set
eyes on the dog. He had not been a quarter of an hour
on his quest before he discovered something else that put
Diamond temporarily out of his mind.

The boy’s random course crossed the trail of two
horses. The trail was not more than two hours’ old.
When he got down to examine the tracks at closer range,
he found them overlaid by the prints of a dog’s paws.
This brought Diamond abruptly back into his thoughts
again,

Breathitt and Thompson had passed that way some
two hours before, the boy reasoned, and Diamond had
followed an hour later.

Cayuse wondered what he should do.

He was halfway between the Pecos and the butte
where Pa-e-has-ka had said that he should come with
the dog, or with news of the two men the pards were
seeking. Should he leave this double trail, he pondered,
or should he follow it?

The trail led west by north, and, in a way, toward
the butte. Cayuse thought that he could follow the trail
for some distance, at least.

Digging his heels into Navi’s calico sides, the boy fol-

lowed the trail at a rapid gallop. The trail came to a
small creek, and Cayuse would have crossed had he not
discovered two horses, their heads tied together, stand-
ing at the foot of a ridge, a*hundred yards away from
the little stream and on his side of it.

These were the same horses Cayuse had already seen
near that other creek on the eastern side of the Pecos,
at the time he had gone to the rescue of the dog. Yes,
undoubtedly those two animals belonged to Breathitt
and Thompson.

The boy was at a loss to account for their being in
their present position, Here he was, following the trail
of the two horses and ready to cross the creek, and
there the animals were, a hundred yards behind him,
at the foot of the ridge.

This meant, if it meant anything, that Breathitt and —

Thompson had crossed the little stream going north, and
had later crossed it again coming south. What did they
mean by such doubling? Could it be that they had gone
north only to find that men were in the hills looking for
them? Had they become alarmed and hastened south-
ward again?

This was the state of affairs, so far as Cayuse could
gather. The two white men had left their hang-out

  

  
   
 
   
    
   
   
    
   
   
 

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24 | THE BUFFALO

and were straining every effort to get away from the
coil that was tightening around them.

But, if they were trying to get away, why had they
left their horses at thefoot of the ridge? And where
had the men gone themselves?

- Here was something that demanded immediate in-
vestigation.

Riding as close to the two animals as he thought safe,
the Piute boy dismounted, hitched Navi to a thorn bush,
and then made his way warily to the desperadoes’ horses.

Two thousand.dollars in gold had been stolen from
Jasper Lee. Cayuse remembered that. If the gold was
about the horses it might be well to secure it.

The boy, however, could not find the gold. There was
a haversack of food at each saddle cantle, but the other
half of Jasper Lee’s saddlebags was not in evidence.

Breathitt and Thompson, it seemed plain, had taken
the gold with them when they left their horses. The
course the men had taken was not much of a mystery,
now that Cayuse was close to their horses. There were
bootprints in the sand, leading up toward the crest of the
ridge.

The Piute followed the bootprints. From the top of
_ the ridge he looked cautiously down into a dry wash.
The two men had left traces of their descent into the
dry wash, but there was no sign of them in the sandy
gouge, .

Cayuse was vastly puzzled. Breathitt and Thompson
had surely not gone far, and yet they had gone far
enough so that they were nowhere in sight.

Still warily, the little Piute descended into the sandy
gouge, watching with eagle eyes and listening keenly.
Silence reigned all around—an oppressive, nerve-racking
silence that portended evil things.

Cayuse wascurious to learn the whereabouts of Breath-
itt and Thompson. His mind was planning a coup.
The moment he set eyes on the scoundrels he would

race back to the foot of the ridge, mount Navi, and ride.

off with the white men’s horses! By this move, he fig-
ured, he would make Breathitt and Thompson easy prey

for the scout and his pards. Le ate

Cayuse gained the bottom of the dry wash. Here the
bootprints turned and ascended the big gouge, passing
a clump of bushes and going on and on.

The boy thought. it well to hurry, and he almost ran
along the dry wash. When he came close to the bushes
he stopped suddenly. Intuitively he felt that there was
danger in that clump of brush. Yet the trail ran past it
and ;

At that moment, while Cayuse was busy with his pre-
monitions, the unexpected happened. |

 

There came a sudden crashing among the bushes. In-
-stinctively the boy leaped backward. A missile flew
through the air. He tried to avoid it, but his moccasins
slipped in the soft sand. The next moment he pitched

BILL STORIES.

forward full length, his head ringing under the impact 9
of the blow he had received.

For a space the boy knew nothing of what was going

on around him. When he opened his eyes again he dis- |
covered that he had been dragged back along the dry @

wash. Breathitt and ‘Thompson, their evil faces full of
fierce exultation, stood over him, armed with bludgeons.

Cayuse’s brain, in spite of the pain that throbbed in
his head, was clear. He understood that he had been
tricked. In some manner the men must have discovered

that he was following them, and they had hidden in the |

bushes, after first cunningly making a trail past the
clump. One of the clubs, thrown at him from the brush,

had dropped him in his tracks without a cry or id |

Unsteadily the lad felt for his revolver, but it was not
in his belt. : |
“Ve got another guess comin’, Injun,”’
gun.”
“T took it away from ye,”
was the fust thing I done when ye drapped. Nothin’

like pullin’ a snake’s fangs when ye got the chanst. Hey,
Breathitt ?”
“Right ye aire, Tomp,” answered Breathitt. ‘Don't |

ye make no move ter git out o’ hyer, kase if ye do we'll
use yer own gun on ye,”

wool-gatherin’
What ye doin’ in the hills, hey?”

The boy made no answer.

“Tickle his ribs with yore club, Tomp,” said Breathitt,
‘an’ le’s see if we kain’t git somethin’ out o’ him.”

Thompson stepped toward Cayuse ee suspended his

~ club over him.

“Will ye talk?” growled the man.

“Ai,” answered Cayuse, thinking it was better to talk
than to court destruction at the hands of the white scoun-
drel. Even if he did talk, the boy knew that he need
not say much.

“What're ye in the hills fer?” went on Breathitt.

“Make um ride,” said Cayuse, one of his gleaming eyes
on Thompson and the other keeping track of Breathitt.

“Ye're another!” said Breathitt savagely. “Ye come
inter the hills fer somethin’ more’n jest a ride. Ye come
huntin’ us, that’s what ye done. Don’t ye dare deny it.”

“Mebbyso,” said Cayuse.

“Who came with ye?”

“Ugh! Me come ‘lone.’

“That's whar we nail another! 1" scowled Thompson. -

“Ye come with a feller from Hackaday, didn’t ye?”

Cayuse ‘had come with several men from Hackaday. |

Ife merely grunted and kept track of the threatening
club. sie

Would it be possible, he was y astdue himself, to roll

out from under the club and make a dash up ‘the side |

grinned Breath- @
itt, “if ye reckoned we was goin’ ter let ye keep yer

spoke up Thompson. “It |

the scoundrel added to Cayuse. ©
“We'd a-clubbed the life out’n ye while yer wits was
if we hadn’t wanted a little palaver. @

top
he
the

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bai

the

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eyes
hitt.
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roll
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THE BUFFALO

of the dry wash? It would be a perilous proceeding, but

ifhe got clear of those two scoundrels he knew he would
have to take desperate chances.

“Wasn't that feller that come with ye the deperty
sher’'ff from Hackaday?’ continued Breathitt.

“Wuh.”

“Was he huntin’ us?”

“Si, him make hunt for you.

“Fer why?’

“You shoot um ombray on Lone Star trail.”

“T told ye!” exclaimed Thompson, turning his head
toward Breathitt. |

“Took out!’ warned Breathitt.

At that moment Cayuse rolled over against Thomp-
son’s shins. Thompson staggered, then, swearing volu-
bly, dropped his club and fell to his knees. —

Cayuse jumped up and started to make a run for the
He was grabbed by Breathitt before

32

top of the slope.
he had taken half a dozen steps and hurled roughly to
the ground.

“No, ye don’t, ye pesky leetle whelp!” snarled Breath-
itt, “Ye ain’t goin’ ter git away from us so blamed
easy as all that, D’ye want another rap on the head?”

Breathitt, in his hurry to lay hands on Cayuse, had
let fall his bludgeon. Thompson, in a fury, jumped to
his feet, picked up his own club, and rushed at the boy.

“ll fix him fer that!’ fumed Thompson.

Then, with a suddenness that must have astounded the
two scoundrels, a big dog leaped over the-crest of the
bank of the dry wash and bounded down the slope.

“Mind yer eye, Tomp!’ shouted Breathitt. Sahar s
that dorg agin!”

Behind the dog came Buffalo Bill, racing at top speed
for the bottom of the wash.

“Take him, Diamond!” shouted Buffalo Bill to the
dog,
But Diamond needed no urging.” With a snarl of rage
he was already in the air, having launched himself at
Thompson. ;

CHAPTER | XV.
IN THE TOILS.

What happened immediately after the coyote dog had
leaped at Thompson, Buffalo Bill was not able to see.
His own hands were suddenly full, for Breathitt had be-
gun a fierce fight for freedom.

Breathitt’s first move was to draw a revolver from
the band of his trousers. The scout had the fellow be-

fore the weapon was ready for use. In a fierce grapple

they fell into the sand and rolled over and over.
revolver dropped from Breathitt’s hand, .and the scout
picked it up and struck him with the handle of it.

BILL STORIES.

The >

The mian was quieted instantly, and the scout regained
his feet and covered his captive with the other end of
the six-shooter. :

Just at that moment Wild Bill came charging down
the slope. For the first time since the clash had com-
menced, the scout shifted his eyes from Breathitt.

He saw a blood-stained knife on the ground, and Dia-
mond gasping and rolling in the sand. Cayuse, his face
convulsed with anger, was darting at Thompson.

One of Thompson’s hands clasped his lacerated throat;
with the other he was fumbling at the handle of a six-
shooter. oo )

“Hold on, son!’ shouted Wild Bill: ‘“Here’s where
I take hold! You and Cody haven’t a monopoly of this
fracas! Leave that juniper to me!’ . :

Cayuse, without a word, whirled suddenly and ran to
the dog. Lae

The Laramie man, grappling with Thompson, found
him a dazed and easily handled antagonist. Wrenching
away the scoundrel’s revolver, Wild Bill covered him
with it.

“T reckon that will be all,” said the Laramie man. “A
short horse is soon curried, as. the saying is. I can
take care of the two of them, Buffalo Bill,” he added
to the scout, “while you go over the hill after something
to tie them with.”

“Take this, then,” answered the scout, giving his re-
volver to Wild Bill. |

The scout was back with a riata in a few minutes, and
the hands of each prisoner were bound behind him.

“Well,” said the scout, when the roping was done and
Breathitt and Thompson were sitting side by side on the
sand, “that was easier than I expected.”

“Put somethin’ around my throat, kain’t ye?” asked
Thompson. he teeth 0’ that dorg gouged me a lot.”

“Did you knife the dog?” inquired Buffalo Bill, jerk-
ing a handkerchief from Thompson's pocket and ban-
daging his throat.

“Shore I did.
ie.”

Over the restrospect of his narrow escape, Thompson
began to swear. There was no doubt but that the nerves
of both desperadoes had been severely shaken.

“Where's the gold you men took from Jasper Lee ve
inquired the scout.

“Dunno anybody by the name o’ Jasper Lee,’
Breathitt sullenly.

“He’s the man you shot up on the Lone,Star trail.”

“We didn’t shoot up nobody.”

“Ts this your hat, Breathitt?”

The scout put the question suddenly and as suddenly
drew Preathitt’s hat from the breast of his coat.

“Waal, yes,’ said Breathitt, “that’s a hat o’ mine. I
had it in my haversack, at the camp, an’ lost it last night

39

If I hadn’t knifed him he’d ’a’ killed

9

replied

when

 

  

   
oe ; THE BUFFALO

“Dry up!” growled Thompson. “Ye're torkin’ too
much ag’in.” .

“Td like ter know whar Buffler Bill got my hat,” con-
tinued Breathitt.

“The coyote dog brought it into Hackaday,’
scout.

“Whar the blazes did the dorg git it?”

“From your camp, I reckon. The hat isn’t the only
thing the dog pilfered from your hang-out, Breathitt.
_ He brought in one of Lee’s saddlebags, and a belt and re-
volver also belonging to Lee.”

“T tell ye,” shouted Breathitt, “I dunno nothin’ erbout
this Lee person. Tomp an’ me ain’t done a thing that’s
_¢rooked sence we left Doolittle. Hev we, Tomp?”

“We're tryin’ ter be honest an’ peaceable,” declared
Thompson, “an’ this hyer is what we git fer it! If ye
want ter take us back ter Doolittle, Buffler Bill,” he went
on, to the scout, “we'll go with ye; but thar ain’t, any-
thin’ else ye kin take us up fer.” x

“You're wanted in Hackaday a lot worse than you are
in Doolittle. Where’s Boswell?”

“Dunno nothin’ *bout Boswell. Ain’t seen him sence
we left Doolittle, an’ we ain’t expectin’ ter see him no
more. He’s a desprit character, Boswell is, an’ we cut
loose from him:”

- Wild Bill exploded a ee
ous crook, and the reverse of desperate, it was the man
Boswell,

“Where’s the gold?” the scout asked again.

“We don’t know nothin’ about no gold,” declared
Thompson vehemently. “If ye think we've stole some
gold from anybody, ye’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“Go make um hunt in bushes, Pa-e-has-ka!” called
Little Cayuse. “Mebbyso you find um dinero in bushes.”

Thompson and Breathitt exchanged anery looks, and
Thompson began another whole-souled imitation of the
army in Flanders.

“I wisht,” howled Thompson, “that we’d a clubbed the
life outer that Injun! I wanted ter, an’ you told me ter
hold off, Breathitt, so’st ye could palaver with him, nee
see what’s happened.”

said the

“It ain't my fault any more’n it is yores,” retorted

Breathitt. -

The scout did not linger while the desperadoes quar-
reled, but hurried up the dry wash to the dusty bushes.
He wasn’t gone more than five minutes, and when he
came back he carried a weighty saddlebag—the mate of
the bag that Diamond had brought to Hackaday.

“Got the loot, eh?” cried Wild Bill.

“No doubt about it, pard,” the scout answered, “TI
‘reckon the scoundrels can’t side-step this.”

“Don’t know nothin’ about it,” persisted Breathitt

“Nary a thing,” added Thompson.

“The evidence that Diamond toted into Hackaday and

 

 

If there was ever a nerv- .

BILL STORIES.
dropped at the kitchen door,” said the scout, “might not
be very good evidence in a court of law; but this’—

and he shook the saddlebag—‘is something Breathitt J

and Thompson can’t get around. It’s easy to guess why
they left their horses over the hill and came into the dry
wash to hide the gold. They knew they were being
pursued, and they knew that the only thing that could
convict them of the criminal work on the Lone Star trail
was the gold. So they wanted to get rid of it until they
were sure they wouldn't be overhauled; once they were
positive of that, they could have come back to the dry
wash, taken the bag of gold out of the brush—and left
for parts unknown.”

Buffalo Bill was stared at by the captured desperadoes
while he talked. What he said impressed them, that
was evident.

“Ye got it figgered down ter a purty fine point,”
Breathitt, “but the next thing is ter prove it.”

jeered

“Here's all the proof that’s needed,’ and the scout
once more shook the bag. ‘This saddlebag belonged to
Jasper Lee, and the other bag that was cut away from
it was’ marked with his initials. Where’s Boswell?”

“T tell ye we don’t know nothin’ about Boswell.”

“Well, that is immaterial, We have captured you two,
and that’s enough for one day.”

“And it’s a swinging job, gents,” put in Wild Bill.
“That's a comfortable reflection for you during the ride
back to Hackaday.”

The scout turned to Little Cayuse. He sat beside the
scarred and tawny body of the coyote dog. The animal
lay without movement.

“Ts the dog dead, Cayuse?” asked the scout.

Cayuse nodded, got up and walked to the reddened
knife that lay where Thompson had let it fall. For a
moment the scout was fearful of what the boy was going
to do.. But there was no cause for alarm.

Coming back to the dog’s side, the little Piute knelt
down and began scooping away the sand.

“I'd better get the horses and bring them here, hadn’t
I, pard?” inquired the Laramie man.

The scout nodded, and Wild Bill started over the bank
of the dry wash.

“How'd ye happen ter arrive hyer when ye did?” asked
Breathitt.

“Well, Breathitt,” was the answer, “we came into the
hills with some more of my pards and with Quinby, the
deputy sheriff. QObinby was ahead of us, and when you
shot him we were close ened to hear the report of
your revolver, so .

 

“Tt wasn’t me done that,” interrupted Breathitt hastily.
cried Thompson
“What sort of a pard aire ye?”

Pa

“Why don’t ye tell him it was me:
savagely.

 

  

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THE BUPFALO

“It makes no difference which of you it was that
wounded Quinby,” continued the scout. “He saw you
poth, and can identify you. That’s a little more evidence
that you did that work on the Lone Star trail. We sent
Quinby home, and then Wild Bill and myself followed
the coyote dog to this dry wash. At the foot of the
ridge we saw your horses, and Little Cayuse’s pinto. I
left Wild Bill to take care of his mount and mine and
hurried after the dog.”

“Then it was the dorg as put the kybosh onter us?”
queried Breathitt.

“Tf it hadn’t been for the dog, Breathitt, there wouldn’t
have been any kybosh. And, furthermore, the dog

wouldn’t have bothered you if you hadn’t mistreated him

as you did.”

“T allers-did hate a dorg as bad as a rattler,” grunted
Thompson, “an’ I’m glad I give this coyote cur his
gruel.”

Cayuse was deepening his pit in the sand, but he paused
in the midst’ of his work to fix his flashing eyes on
Thompson.

*“Whoosh!?’ muttered Thompson. “That sawed-off
Injun ’u’d like ter put that thar knife between my ribs,
I reckon. Jest on account of er no-’count dog!”

“For nothing else, Thompson,” said the scout.

When Wild Bill came over the wall of the wash with
the horses, the scout was surprised to see Nomad and
the baron with him. |

I thought I told you men to meet the rest of us at
the foot of the butte, Nick,’’ called the scout.
' “So ye did, pard,” answered Nomad, “but the baron
an’ me met Quinby ridin’ inter town an’ he told us what
had happened. We follered the trail down that valley,
crossed the crick, an’ seen Hickok untyin’ the hosses.
As per usual,” finished the old trapper, “we showed up
when the scrimmage was a thing o’ ther past.”

“Vat a luck!’ mourned the baron.

“T think you fellows have had your full share of ex-
citement out ‘of this,’ commented the Laramie man.
“Your objections to the trend of events are not in or-
der.”

“Hardly,” smiled the scout.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE DIAMOND HITCH.

It was mid-afternoon when the aud with their two
prisoners tied to led horses, rode out of the dry wash
and laid their course for the Pecos. At the top of the
sandy bank they halted, looking below at the bowlders
Little Cayuse had heaped over the grave of Diamond.

“Him heap fine dog,” said Caytse, “have heap hard
time. Me like um, but no got um.”

seca sh oma coe trey tne MEE. a

BILL STORIES. 27

There was a quiver in the boy’s voice and a mist in
his eyes. Here was a marvel. Never before, in all the
time Wild Bill had known the small Piute, had he seen
him so affected.

“That’s all right, son,’ observed Wild Bill kindly;
“how can any one, beast or human, die better than while
doing his full duty? That coyote dog did a great work.

-Welll remember it, son, and perhaps there’s a lesson in

that humble little tragedy that will bear fruit for all of
us in the years to come.”

With a last, lingering look below, Cayuse turned Navi,
and the party rode off toward the Pecos.

Old Nomad had charge of the horse ridden by Breath-
itt, and the baron had the other horse and Thompson
in custody. The scout and the Laramie man rode stirrup
to stirrup.

“It was the dog that blocked the game of the ie
hunters, all right, Pard Cody,” said Wild Bill. .

“Diamond threw the hitch over these two members of
the Coterie,”’ Tee the scout. ‘It’s a ‘Diamond hitch,’
as you might say.”

By supper time the scout and his pards lined up in
front of Quinby’s house in Hackaday. The news had
spread like wildfire that the scoundrels who had shot
and robbed Jasper Lee had been captured. From'every
direction men came running, some with weapons and
some ‘without, but all wrought up with the excitement of
the moment. we

While the scout and his pards were watching the gath-
ering crowd and studying its temper, two mounted men
spurred in among them.

“lm Rickner,”

“Shore,” returned old Nomad, “I don’t reckon I kin
ever fergit ye, Rickner.”

“An’ I’m Gene Fitz——”

“Und Chene!” carolled the baron. “I bed you some-
ding fornodding ve don’d forged him, neider.”

1 We te ter take the pris’ners ter Lone Star,’ went on
Rickner hurriedly. ‘We'll have to get away with them
without losin’ much time.”

“T reckon that’s so,” agreed the scout, “but Pll have

said one.

. to ask Quinby about it before I let you have the men.”

- Quinby, at that moment, showed his head at a front
window of the house.

“Take ’em to Lone Star, Rickner, you an’ Gene!” he
called. “Don’t let any grass grow under your hosses’
hoofs, either.”

“That settles it,’ said the scout.
Rickner.”

The lead ropes were cast off by Nomad and the baron
and caught up and made fast by Gene and Rickner;
then the start was made for Lone Star at a gallop.

“Buffalo Bill,” called Quinby from the window, “I

“Take your men,

 

 
 

  

28

 

want you, and Wild Bill, and old Nomad to come in
here.”

OAL right, ” answered the scout. “Baron, he added,
as he dismounted, “you and Cayuse can take the horses
to the home corral and then begin getting supper. The
rest of us will be along presently.”

The two Bills and the old trapper were met at the
door by a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as
Mrs. Quinby. The deputy’s wife ushered the callers into
the presence of the deputy.

Quinby lay on a cot that had been pushed under the
open front window. The room was redolent of the odor
of drugs, which proved conclusively that the doctor had
been there and looked after Quinby’s wound.

“Ye turned the trick, friends,” said the deputy.

“It’s a habit we have,” said Hickok airily, “When-
ever we go after a trick we always turn it.”

“T wanted ye to come in here so’st I could ask yer
pardon for the mistake I made at the start-off, and for
shootin’ that coyote dog like I did, and for ridin’ into
the hills ahead o’ ye.” |

“That’s past history now, Quinby,” said the scout, “so
let’s not rake it up. The men who committed that crime
on the Lone Star trail have been captured. That’s the
main point.”

“T reckon I made yer work some harder for ye.”

“Not enough to mention. Here’s the gold”—the scout
dropped the jingling saddlebag on the cot beside the
deputy sheriffi—“and you'd better count it, Quinby, and
make sure it’s all there.”

“Tm willin’ to take yore word for it, Buffalo Bill,’
said Quinby.

“Glad you take so much stock in my word, but, in ne
instance it’s hardly business. Count the gold,”

Mrs. Quinby unbuckled the top of the saddlebag and
removed a securely-tied canvas sack that was inside.
This, in turn, was opened, and the yellow boys dumped
out on the cot.

Mrs. Quinby helped her husband do the counting,

“All here,” the deputy announced, when the counting
was finished. “Poor old Jass Lee!” exclaimed Quinby.
“He had that money in the bank, over at Lone Star, an’

he went there an’ took it out to buy an interest in a silver

mine. Now the gold’ll go to Gene’s wife, I reckon, an’
_ to-morrow we'll lay Jass away on the hillside north 0’
town. Such is life, friends!”

“Yes,” said Buffalo Bill gravely, “life, at best, is a

very uncettain quantity. The perils that surround us
point to the fact that we should be ready for whatever
may happen.” ,

“What become o’ the dog?” seed Quinby.

The scout explained about Diamond.

 

THE BUFFALO

 

 

BILE STORIES.

    

“That was tough on the little Piute,’ remarked
Quinby. “He seemed to set a heap o’ store by that co-
yote dog.”

“It was one of those fleeting friendships,” put in Wild
Bill, “which are born amid dangers, cemented by un-
certainties, and end with a sacrifice. In this case, amigos,
it was the dog that paid the penalty for faithful service

—the penalty of death.”

~ “Ye don’t hold no grudge agin’ me, do ye?” inquired
the deputy sheriff, casting anxious looks around him
into the faces of the pards.

“Not at all,” replied the scout heartily.

“T know I’ve got my shortcomings, an’ that I kain’t
take much stock in things that look farfetched, but
mebby ye’d find I’ve got my good points 1f ye was better
acquainted with me.’

“We've discovered that already, Quinby,” declared the
Laramie man.

“How long ye goin’ to be in town?”

“Long enough to give any testimony that may be
needed in the cases of Breathitt and Thompson,” said
the scout. “We'll go to Long Star to-morrow and see
if affidavits will answer. If they will, we'll depart for
New Mexico at once.”

“Sorry ye won't be able to hang out around Hackaday
for a spell,” remarked the sheriff, with what seemed like
gentiine regret. “I'll be laid up for two or three weeks,
though, so I wouldn’t be able to entertain ye much. But
ye’'ve made a hit with the townspeople, and they’d see
that ye was took good keer of, if ye stayed a while.”

“We should greatly enjoy meeting the people of Hack-
aday,”’ responded the scout, “but business must be at-
tended to before pleasures are indulged in. We'll see
you again, anyhow, Quinby, before we pull out for good.”

“I could have sworn he’d do it, one way or another,
before we got away,” chuckled Wild Bill, as the scout
and Nomad were jogging along toward the shanty on
either side of him.

“Do what?” the scout asked.

“Why, lug in that ‘farfetched’ business.
be a eS of Quinby’s.”

It seems to

THE END,

For the real thing in a story of adventure, with the
greatest of all far West heroes, get next week’s num-
ber. “Buffalo Bill and the Wheel of F ate; or, Destiny at
Deep Notch” is the title of the wonderful tale that is
burning to tell itself. And that’s no joke. It is the sort
of tale that just catches fire in the first chapter and
crackles to the end. Besides that, it’s a piece cut out of
life. If there’s any chance of your missing it, remove
that chance at once. Tell your dealer that you must have
it. Out next week. Remember the number—476.

  

all

to
ne

  
CD mee OD

ae

1

OM O eR ee ct MM ect

THE BUFFALO

 

  

DEVOTED TO BORDER

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, June 18, 1910,

TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
(Postage Free.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

 

 

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Oxmonp G. SMITH, | p ;
a ee roprietors.
zorGR C, SMITH, p

 

 

 

 

A STREET ARAB.

Colonel Harwood, of the th New York Regiment,
descended the steps of the Astor House, with a friend, on
a summer day early in the war. He was making the closing
preparations, and hoped to start for the scene of war in
three days at the farthest.

“Come with me, Jackson,” he said, “and I will get you
a commission as captain in my regiment. Won't that tempt
your”

“It might, if it were possible for me to go, but my busi-
ness absolutely requires my personal attettion. Some time
in the future I may be able to make arrangements that will
admit of serving my country in the field. As it is, not only
I can’t leave my business, but I can’t leave my wife. We
have a young child but two months old, and I can’t be

 

   

    
 

hen I must go without you,” said Colonel Harwood.
ype the war will not be so protracted as to require you

‘¢ the personal sacrifices you refer to. It is my ear-
ish that peacé may come in a twelvemonth.”
Jackson shook his head.

“Don't expect it,” he said, “I have been in the South,
and I know their people. However wrong they may be,
they are brave and resolute, and it will be no child’s play
to overcome them. Another levy, and a large one, will be
needed.”

“You may be right, but I hope they will see the error of
their ways, Good-by.”

_“Good-by. If I don’t see you again before you start,
I wish you a safe and early return.”

“Thank you.”

While the gentlemen had been speaking, a bootblack,
with a bright and earnest face, albeit. it was soiled by
traces of his stock in trade, stood by, waiting patiently till
the colloquy was over. Then, in a business-like tone he
asked :

“Hay

 

W
{
Fog
K

tiave a shine, colonel?”
“How do you know I am a colonel?” asked Harwood,
with a smile

6c

1 heard the other gentleman call you gO.

I flattered myself it was my soldierly bearing, but | am
1v + ¢ . age . » S09
undeceived. Can you give me a military shine:

6Cy

ll give you one worthy of a general,” said the boy

‘

“That's all I can expect. ‘Well, go ahead.”

The boy needed no second bidding, but was down on his
knees in an instant.

eee

 

BILL STORIES. 29

\

“What is your name, my lad?” inquired the officer.

“Jack Hunting.”

“Well, Jack. I hope you are a true Union man.”

“You just bet I am!” said Jack emphatically.

“Then how can you be content to stay in New York
blacking boots when your country needs soldiers?”

“Will you make me a captain if 1 go?” asked Jack
shrewdly.

Colonel Harwood laughed.

“I am afraid I can’t promise that, Jack. I don’t think you *
know enough of military drill to acquit yourself well in
that capacity.”

“I know something,” said Jack.

“Where did you learn it?”

From the pocket of his ragged coat Jack pulled out a
tattered and indescribably dirty copy of “Hardee’s Tactics.”

“Tm captain of the Baxter Street Guards,” he~ said
proudly. “I drill °em twice a week.”

“IT was not aware that I was addresing an officer,” said
Colonel Harwood pleasantly. ‘‘How do you like it, Jack?’

“Tip-top,’ said Jack. “I wish I was big enough and old
enough to go to war.”

An idea came to Colonel Harwood. He was a judge of
persons, and he was convinced that Jack was an earnest
and manly boy.

“Jack,” said He suddenly, “how would you like to go as
my servant?’

“Tip-top! Will you take me?”

“I think I can. Meet me to-morrow at this place, and
I will tell you definitely. You won’t break the appoint-
ment ?”

“Catch me breaking it!

“IT won't trouble you to do that.
and stay till I come.”

The next day, at half-past one, Colonel Harwood ap-
proached the hotel, and saw Jack awaiting him with an
eager look.

“It’s all right,” he said, “you-can go.”

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Jack enthusiastically. “Here, Tim,”
addressing a smaller boy at his side, “take my blacking box;
I don’t want it no more. I’m going to the war.”

T’ll be round here all day.”
Be here by one o'clock

* *. * x 2 * *

Colonel Harwood joined the army of the Potomac with.
his regiment. Of course Jack accompanied him. His
patron had no occasion to regret the impulse which had
léd him to take the young arab into his service. Jack
proved a competent body servant, while his ready wit and
unfailing good humor enlivened the camp. The colonel often
invited Jack: to accompany him in expeditions within a few
miles of the camp. When they were thus together he ad-
mitted the boy to a degree of familiarity which the more
rigid decorum of the camp would not have permitted. The
consequence was that the young servant became very much
attached to his patron.

One day General Hooker, ‘then in command of the army,
summoned Colonel Harwood to his quarters.

“Take a seat, colonel,” said the general. “I want to ask
your advice as to the selection of a man who will procure
me some information as to the numbers and position of the
enemy. It will be necessary for him to cross the Rappa-
hannock and make his way to Fredericksburg. Is there any
one of your subordinate officers who will ‘fill the bill?’”

“T hardly know whom to recommend, general,” responded _
the colonel. “I am almost tempted to go myself.”

“I could not expect an officer of your rank to assume the
duty. Besides, there is not a little personal danger.”

“T am aware of that, but high rank should not be a shield
against peril.”

“Well said.”

“On one condition 1 will myself accept the duty, and do
my best to cary out your wishes.”

V Name 1b"

“I have a boy in my employ, sharp and quick-witted, as

ke

 

 

 
  

30. THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

indeed he ought to be for he has had his training in the
streets of New York. I should like to carry him with
Hie)!
“Assutedly; there can be no objection. I thank you,
colonel, for your readiness to serve our cause, and will
place in your hands a paper. indicating the points upon
which I want information.”

On his return to his quarters, Colonel Harwood took
. Jack into his confidence, apprised him of the dangerous
character of the commission he had undertaken, and asked
him if he were disposed to accompany him,

“Vl go with you anywhere, colonel,” said Jack promptly.

“You may be seized, and hung as a spy.”

-“T shouldn’t like that, but I'll risk it.”

“I think you'll do,” said his employer.
actor are you, Jack?”

“Don’t know, sir.
Theatre, and——”

“Our acting must be of a different character.
ever see a Quaker?”

“Yea, verily,’ answered Jack.
play Quaker?”

“That will be a help, but you must not overdo it. I am
to be a Quaker, and you are my boy Ephraim.”

“Yea, verily. What is thy name?”

“T will be Friend Eliakina Potts.
name?”

“Yea, father.”

“I rely upon your shrewdness and quick wit; otherwise
I would not take you.”

“What sort of an
Ive seen acting at the old Bowery
Did you

“T’ve seen the minstrels

Can you remember the

ee * * * * * *
Two strangers, clad in sober drab, with broad-brimmed

hats, approached the banks of the Rappahannock below the |

Federal lines. Of course they were the colonel and Jack,
but so disguised that they would scarcely have been recog-
nized by their most intimate friends.

A tall, shambling Virginian was floating about in a flat-
bottomed boat near the bank.

“Friend,” called the elder Quaker,
and my son to the other side?”

“Reckon I mought,”’ was the reply. “What’'ll you give?”

“I will pay thee reasonable compensation.”

“What's thatr’

Nay, thee must decide. How much does thee want?”

“Half a dollar in silver—no shinplasters.”

“Thee shall have it.”

Soon the boat was on its way to the opposite shore carry-
ing our two friends.

“I say, strangers,” said the boatman, eying his passengers
with curiosity, “are you in the army?”

“Nay, friend; we hold it sinful to fight.
Ephraim ?”

“Yea, verily,” said Jack, drawing down the corners of his
mouth,

“What’t your business, then?”

“I wish to see thy general, as worldly men call him, on
an important matter 7

vou ain’t a Yankee, be you?”

“Nay, verily. I belong not tothe band of ungodly men
who have come into our country to despoil it.”

‘Well. lm glad ofthat. -1t.you was, 1/d. turn fae
and tow back.”

They reached the other side in safety and pursued their
way to Fredericksburg.

Colonel Harwood had supplied himself with a variety of
tracts, printed in Philadelphia under Quaker auspices, and
the distribution of these was his ostensible errand. He soon
obtained admission to the presence of General Lée, and
presented him with a tract on the “Sinfulness of War.”
Looking upon him as a harmless enthusiast the Confederate
chief gave him a pass admitting him to the hospitals, as he

_ expressed a particular desire to visit the sick.
Their peculiar garb, and grave, decorous gait subjected

Ds

“will. thee carry me

39

Ts it not so,

clear out of this.

. walked a little way into the country.

eens:

 

them in some’ instances to annoyances and insults, whieh it
was very difficult not to resent.

One day Jack was followed by two boys, who threw
stones at him.

“If I wasn’t a (Quaker, ” thought Jack, “I’d put a head on
them two fellers.”

“What'll you sell your hat for, young Broadbrim ?” asked
one of the boys.

“Verily, it isn’t for. sale,”

“Here's at’ it, then,” and he made a grab.

But Jack threw out his hand and accidentally made the
fellow’s nose bleed.

“Thee should not get in the way of. my eae he said
quietly.

Meanwhile, both Jackeand the colonel were using their
eyes and ears to advantage. They had secured board in
the family of a widow woman of rabid Southern proclivities,
who took them to task for not joining the Southern army.
Friend Potts gave her a tract, but this did not satisfy her.
Finally Jack, in passing a room where Mrs. Rhodes and a
friend of hers were chatting heard the landlady intimate a
strong doubt of her guests being what they appeared.

“I’m convinced they’re spies,” she said, “and I’m going
to-morrow morning to tell my suspicions. If they are spies,
I want to see ’em hung.”

At this Jack was naturally alarmed, and he at once com-
municated what he had heard to the colonel when he
came in. :

“This looks serious, Jack,’ said that officer. “We must
I have all the information I need, and
the sooner we return to our camp now the better.”

“Tt-won’t do to go as Quakers,” said Jack. ‘We'd better
get some other clothes.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

Two hours later the two Quakers left the house. They
Jack had a large
bundle under his arm. Entering a deserted negro hut, they
remained for some time. When they emerged. there was a
wonderful change in their appearance. The colonel was
a Southern gentleman and Jack his son. They no longer
cultivated demureness of expression, but looked like fire
eaters of the most pronounced type. .Each had.a whip in
his hand.

They met a file of Confederate soldiers.

“Who are your” asked the officer in charge.

“T’ve got a plantation down here a ways,’ drawled Har-
wood. “One of my niggers has run away. You haven't
seen him, have you?”

“No. hea:

“Some infernal Quakers have been round our place,” said
Jack. “I reckon they’ve run off with the nigger.’

“Very dikely,” said. the officer. “I am in search of thos?
very Quakers. It is reported that they are spies.”

“That's just what I told dad,” said Jack.

“One of therm was a boy of about your size,’
officer.

Ui dst soci 1 ited to fight him, but he sneaked off, and
the old man said it was sinful to fight. Hope you'll catch
en.

UL expect (0, 25 they, were seen coming out this way.”

“We'll go and see ’em hung, won’t we, dad?”

“T think you will have the chance. Good- by, gentlemen.”

“Jack,” said the colonel, when the soldiers had gone by,
“we are.in danger. We must cross the river as.soon as
possible.”

They were ferried across by the same man, who did not
recognize them, but entertained them with an account of his
Quaker passengers.

“They've stole one of our niggers,”
come this way don’t take ’em across.’

“T won’t. So they were nigger a were they?”

a

* said the

Losaid Jack: it they

Near the Union camp Jack and the colonel were taken

 

 

 

CPS Ce Cres

we De CO

—_—

tT

 
Se Ne ae Oe Oe ha aA Le eee

  
 

THE BUFFALO

prisoners on the supposition that they were rebels, Of
course they were released when the matter came to the ears
of General Hooker, and in a personal interview they were
able to furnish him with valuable information. Jack
though rather under age, was taken into the Service, and
at once promoted to a corporalship. When the war was
closed he was a second lieutenant, being nearly the young-
est officer in the service. He is now a prosperous business
man in the city where he once blacked boots as a friendless
waif.

 

POISING OF THE TROUT.

As the kestrel is to the clouds, so is the trout to the
crystal waters. Both kestrels and trout display that magical
poising, as-if suspended by invisible threads—only now and
then, when cross currents are encountered, is a sign given
to show that life itself is not in suspense, says the London
Evening Standard.

A brief agitation of the kestrel’s wings, a swishing of
the trout’s tail—the cross current is weathered, and bird
or fish poises motionless again. And as when walking along
we are pulled up in ever fresh wonder by the sight of the
hovering kestrel, so we must needs pause on a bridge when
there is a trout in the stream. below.

He looks his best poising with head to the stream—a
shapely form against the background of smooth brown
ebbles and waving emerald weeds. Leaning over the
e with eyes on the trout, a vision is conjured—an
g fly drops on the water, then a slack line tightens,
there is a song from the reel, a rod bends; there follows a
lazzling dance of vermilion spots. against the green of the

   

J

 
  
    

   

Or as. we come to the bridge on a winter’s day we think
we hear a mighty plashing of water over the pebbles—
which turns out to be the play of thirty or forty trout—the
play of the last round of some water tourney. As they
come to the surface, rolling and wallowing, their great fat
sides look twice as big as when seen through the clear
water—they almost make a dam across the stream as they
jostle each other, seeking for the choicest places on the
spawning bed.

 
  
 

CATCHING WILD TURKEYS.
Jim White, who lives in Iowa, may be a shrewd sports-
1, but every boy that reads this will consider him as
as a heathen Chinee, in the way he catches wild

 
  

\ large forest surrounds Jim’s farm, and it is full of
turkeys. In the spring old Jim spends most of his
hunting for their nests and occasionally capturing the
alive. This he accomplishes in a novel manner, yet
the process is much more matter of fact than sportsman-

 
  

He first discovers the turkey’s roosting place, and then,
under cover of darkness, he fires a brush heap near the
tee, which he has previously prepared, and while the
rkey’s attention is attracted to the flames Jim creeps up
e trees with his appliance used for making the capture.

This consists of several sections of strong bamboo rods,
jointed like a fishing rod, and may be extended twenty or
thirty feet in length. At the top end is secured a saucer-
shaped vessel, over which a small bottle is fastened, neck
downward. To te cork is attached a cord, which runs the
entire length “of the rod. The bottle is then filled with
chloroform, and under cover of dark shadows Jim noise-
lessly elevates the drug to within a short distance of the

   
 

oS

  

y's nose,
He then pulls the string, causing the cork to withdraw
and allowing the drug to fall into the vessel. The fluid is at

once inhaled, and the bird presently drops to the ground
stupefieds 2 >>. :

 

BILL’ STORIES. a7

SET FREE BY A SHOT.

A sporting gentleman on the North Cornwall coast, better
known for his skill as a surgeon than a good shot, had long
been desirous of being able to boast of having shot a
woodeock. It was not for want of trying, for he was an
ardent lover of dog and gun, and in the shooting season
devoted a great deal of his time, when not profesionally
engaged, in following his favorite pastime. But some-
how or other, much fo his chagrin, whenever he fired at
a woodcock the bird was-sure to be in the wrong place; the
erratic movements of the bird puzzled him so much that
he always fired too quickly or the reverse.

On one occasion.a neighbor had caught one by the leg in
a springle, and knowing the worthy doctor’s ambition he
gave him the opportunity of shooting the bird as it stood on
one leg in the snare. It must be confessed that it was not
a sportsman-like way of bagging his game, but all thoughts
of fair play to the trapped bird vanished in his intense de-
sire to shoot it. '

Standing off at a reasonable distance, the doctor took
deliberate aim and fired, and after the smoke had cleared
he saw the woodcock sailing away in the distance un-
scathed, and beyond the reach of his second barrel. I[n-
stead of, killing it, one of the shots had severed the loop
which held the bird captive, and had: thus given the poor
thing its well-deserved freedom.

A VISIT FROM A LYNX.

A short time ago a lynx of immense size made an un-
invited visit’ to Bill Nefi’s cabin, near Silverton, Colorado,
on the Emerald River, and his sojourn was quite lengthy—
in fact, Mr. Lynx is there yet. The animal was attracted
by some meat that was hanging outside the door of the cabin.
There was no lock or bolt to secure the opening, and while
it was climbing up to reach the meat the door swung open
and allowed the lynx to flounder in, where he proved a
genuine surprise party to Bill, who was whiling away the
hours by reading tiger stories.

It was hard to tell which was the most surprised, the
lynx or the man, but the former evidently thought Bill
meant business when it saw him reach for the axe, and at
once made a spring.

For several minutes they fought at close quarters, and
at last Bill broke away from the beast and climbed up on the
sleeping bunk where he could get elbow room to swing his
weapon. Qn came the lynx, but missed his footing. ‘his
was Bill’s time. As the animal made another spring for
the bunk, the axe was swung aloft and the pole was
brought down on the skull of the animal with the usual
“dull, sickening thud.” The lynx dropped in a heap, and Bill
came down from his perch to find that his blow had smashed
the skull. The animal was stone dead. WNeff’s clothes were
torn in tatters, and he says the lynx weighed 150 pounds.

BOY HAD THE ANSWER.

A class of boys were receiving a lesson in geography,
each having a book containing a description of the earth
before him.

Suddenly the master called on one of the youngsters—who
evidently had been paying little attention to what was be-
ing said—to answer the following question:

‘Johnny, where is Europe ?”’

“Page sixty-eight,” was the boy’s reply.

ONE WAY OF PUTTING IT.

Tommy (after being thrashed by his father)—“Is. my
grandpa your father, pa?”

Parent (shortly )—“Yes.”
- Tommy—“Well, I don’t like his son” -  --

 

 

 
 
 

 

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car.

740—Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car; or, The Wizard of the Road.

741—Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit; or, Running Down the Kid-
nappers.

or, The Cie ‘Bee

For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price,
cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York

 

 

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BUFFALO BILL STORIES, Nos............ © es
BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY,“ ............

@

e089 00220602008 002008

x

 

   
   
 
 

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 eae so thoroughly acquainted with
the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES,

We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print. You can have your news-dealer
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in
money or postage-stamps.

245—Buffalo Bill’s Lost Quarry..... Sze ates 846—Buffalo Bill’s Ordeal of Fire........
Bei geugalo ae eipcneds eee ielcleie olere 3848—Buffalo Bill’s Casket of Pearls......

—Purtaio bill on a Long fiunt......-. 349—Buffalo Bill’s Sky Pilot...... Pees
252—Bufialo Bill and the Redskin Wizard.. 850" Butalo Bille “notema 2

253—Buffalo Bill’s Bold Challenge........ sa :
254—Buffalo Bill’s Shawnee Siahmede: Tee 351—Buffalo Bill’s Flat-boat Drift........
256—Buffalo Bill on a Desert Trail....... 352—Buffalo Bill on Deck.............. .
258—Buffalo Bill in Tight Quarters...... ° 3853—Buffalo Bill and the Bronco Buster...
264—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black.. 3854—Buffalo Bill’s Great Round-up.......
267—Buffalo Bill in the Cafion of Death.. 355—Buffalo Bill’s Pledge...... Giolla isis ober ote
856—Buffalo Bill’s Cowboy Pard..........

269—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Ranch
357—Buffalo Bill and the Emigrants.....

HOUT UU Sets ics ete aseGeRMin sec caeielte tolleice :
272—Buffalo Bill’s Dusky Trailers........ 3858—Buffalo Bill Among the Pueblos.....
273—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Mine........ 359—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards.....
274—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent... 3860—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé..........200%
275—-Buffalo Bill’s Scarlet Hand...... Beare 362—Buffalo Bill’s Pick-up... ......cccce
276—Buffalo Bill Running the Gantlet.... 3863—Buffalo Bill’s Quest..... Lele eihre
278—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Plunge........ 364—Buffalo Bill’s Waif of the Plains. SiMe
280—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Raid........... 366—Buffalo Bill Among the Mormons...
283—Buffalo Bill Up a Stump..... Ss pele sie 367—Buffalo Bill’s Assistance........... .
285—Buffalo Bill’s Master-stroke..... ohare 3868—-Buffalo Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail....
287—Buffalo Bill and the Brazos Terror... 3869—Buffalo Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
288—Buffalo Bill’s Dance of Death....... 370—Buffalo Bill’s Strong Arm...........
230—Buffalo Bill and the Brand of Cain.. 3871—Buffalo Bill’s Girl Pard............
292:—Buffalo Bill’s Medicine-lodge....... ; 372—Buffalo Bill’s Iron Bracelets.........
293—Buffalo Bill in Peril.......... sieitsustere 373—Buffalo Bill’s Ranch Riders..........
298—-Buffalo Bill’s Black Bagles.......... 374—Buffalo Bill’s Jade Amulet..........
299—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Dozen...... 375—Buffalo Bill’s Magic Lariat.........
303—Buffalo Bill and the White Specter.. 376—Buffalo Bill’s ‘‘Paper-Talk”.........
305—Buffalo Bill and the Barge Bandits.. 3877—Buffalo Bill’s Bridge of Fire........
306—Buffalo Bill, the Desert Hotspur.... 378—Buffalo Bill’s Bowie ........2c2.ce.
307—Buffalo Bill’s Wild Range Riders.... 379—Buffalo Bill’s Pay-streak..........-
308—Buffalo Bill’s Whirlwind Chase...... 380—Buffalo Bill’s Mine. ......cscccecees
309—Buffalo Bill’s Red Retribution....... 381—Buffalo Bill’s Clean-up......2-.-+e%
3882—Buffalo Bill’s Ruse ...cccccccccece

310—Buffalo Bill Haunted
311—Buffalo Bill’s Fight for Life......... 883—Buffalo Bill Overboard .....:e.e cece
384—Buffalo Bill’s Ring...

812—Buffalo Bill’s Death Jump..........

314—Buffalo Bill in the Jaws of Death.... 385—Buffalo Bill’s Big Contract..........

315—Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Runners........- 3886—Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane......

316—Buffalo Bill’s Dance with Death..... 387—Buffalo Bill’s Kid Pard.......e.cee.
888—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Plight.......

319—Buffalo Bill’s Mazeppa Ride..... wigrere

821—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band.......... 889—Buffalo Bill’s Fearless Stand........

324—Buffalo Bill’s Gold Hunters......... 890—Buffalo Bill and the Yelping Crew...
391—Buffalo Bill’s Guiding Hand.........

325—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico.
326—Buffalo Bill’s Message monn the “Dead 392—Buffalo Bill’s Queer Quest..........
893—Buffalo Bill’s Prize “Getaway’......

327—Buffalo Bill and the Wolf-master.
328—Buffalo Bill’s Flying Wonder....... 394—Buffalo Bill’s Hurricane HMustle......
329—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold.......... 395—Buffalo Bill’s Star Play............
330—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail.......... 396—Butialo. Bill’s’ Bluff... 20.0% eee ce cee
331—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen... 3897—Buffalo Bill’s Trackers.......-.-+--
332—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder.. 398—Buffalo Bill’s Dutch Pard...........
333—Buffalo Bill’s Ice Barricade........ 3899—Buffalo Bill and the Bravo.........-
334—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Elk.... 400—Buffalo Bill and the Quaker..
835—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance....... Bes 401—Buffalo Bill’s Package of Death.
336—Buffalo Bill’s Peace-pipe Se 402—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
837—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis.......... 403—Buffalo Bill’s Private War.....
338—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa...... 404—-Buffalo Bill and the Trouble Hunter. .
8339—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death.. 5|405-—Buffalo Bill and the Rope Wizard.
340—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak....... 23 sD) 406-—Bultalo .Bil’s. Wiestar. 20.0. 26. s
341—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty...... 5|407—Buffalo Bill Among the Cheyennes...

5)

5

5

412—-Buffalo Bill and the Red Feathers...
413—Buffalo Bill’s King Stroke..........
414—-Buffalo Bill, the Desert Cyclone.....
415—Buffalo Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.......

CVO

416—Buffalo Bill and the Man-wolf.....
417—Buffalo Bill and His Winged Pard..
418—-Buffalo Bill at Babylon Bar... Oe
419—Buffalo Bill’s Long Arm........... i
420—Buffalo Bill and Old Weasel Top....
421—-Buffalo Bill’s Steel Arm Pard......
422—-Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Guide..........
423—Buffalo Bill and Little Firefly......
424—-Buffalo Bill in the Aztec City......
425—Buffalo Bill’s Balloon’ Escape......
426—Buffalo Bill and the Guerrillas......
427—Buffalo Bill’s Border War .........
428—Buffalo Bill’s Mexican Mix-up ......
429—-Buffalo Bill and the Gamecock
430—Buffalo Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
431—-Buffalo Bill’s Whirlwind Finish.
432—Buffalo Bill’s Santa Fe Secret......
433—Buffalo Bill and the Taos Terror..
434—-Buffalo Bill’s Bracelet of Gold....
435—Buffalo Bill and the Border Baron..
436—Buffalo Bill at Salt River Ranch...
437—Buffalo Bill’s Panhandle Man-hunt.
438—Buffalo Bill at Blossom Range.....
439—Buffalo Bill and Juniper Joe........
440—Buffalo Bill’s Final Scoop......... :
441—Buffalo Bill at Clearwater..........
442—Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand........
443—-Buffalo Bill’’s Cinch Claim,.........
444—Buffalo Bill’s Comrades. soars
445—-Buffalo Bill in the Bad ‘Lands. a
446—Buffalo Bill and the Boy Bugler .. ate
447—Buffalo Bill and the Heathen Chinee.
448—Buffalo Bill and the Chink War......
449—Buffalo Bill’s Chinese Chase........
450—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Message.......
451—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Her-
mosa. é
452—Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome ‘Trail. ele recs
453—Buffalo Bill’s Quarry...........006
454—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood. Rbsey oictars
455—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid. Moreton
456—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight. SoA
457—Buffalo Bill Repaid ..............
458—Buffalo Bill’s Throwback...........
459—Buffalo Bill’s ‘‘Sight Unseen”. srieenes
460—Buffalo Bill’s New Pard. Suenos
461—Buffalo Bill’s ‘‘Winged Victory’... :
462—Buffalo Bill’s Pieces-of-Hight. . é
463—Buffalo Bill and the Hight Vaqueros.
464—Buffalo Bill’s Unlucky Siesta........
465—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Clue.........
466—Buffalo Bill and the Apache “Totem. 3
467—Buffalo Bill’s Golden Wonder....... 3
468—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta Night.. :
469—Buffalo Bill and the Hatchet Boys,

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3842—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery........ 408—Buffalo Bill Besieged..............- 470—Buffalo. Bill and the Mining Shark.

848—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party....... 409—Buffalo Bill and the Red Hand....... 471—-Buffalo Bill and the Cattle Barons...
844—-Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride........... 410—Buffalo Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift...... 5|472—-Buffalo Bill’s Long Odds....... tree
345—Buffalo Bill’s Water Trail.......... 5'411—Buffalo Bill and the Specter......... 5'478—Buffalo Bill, the Peacemaker........

Or

 

 

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If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be obtained direct
from this soflice Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY