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Issued Weekly.

 

Copyright, 1911, by STREET & SMITH,

Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET PEE SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NV. aa
O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors.

 

  

 

TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS.
(Postage Free.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each.

 

 

 

How to Send Money-—By post-office or express money order, registered
letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by. currency,
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é
No. 534. NEW YORK, August 5, 1911. Price Five Cents.

BUFFALO BILL’S: THUNDERBOLT:

OR,

Pawnee Bill and the Buffalo Killers.

 

By toe author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER I.
A SUSPICIOUS CARGO.

The negro paddling downstream in a canoe, which
towed a heavily laden raft, dipped his paddle deeper
and sent forth a halloo when he sighted the cabin.

A heavily bearded white man appeared in answer to

to his hail, coming round the end of the cabin next ~

the river.

The negro stood up, bial Ad and waved
the paddle.

“Wah- hoo!” he squawled. “T is slo’ le to see
you.’

He dug the paddle deep again, still serine up, and
drove the canoe toward the bank just above the cabin.
When he reached it the white man was there to catch
the prow and hold the canoe steady.

“You're plum’ ahead o’ time,’ said the white man,
pleased. “I didn’t look fer you to git hyar till after
to-mor?. Must ’a’ had a good viyage.”’

“Td ’a’ got hyuh yistiday, an’ had my min’ made
up to do it; but I had tuh hide out one ce an’ night,
an’ sink de ole taf’.”

“Tnjuns?”

 

“No; dem cowboys up de river. Dey seen me, but
‘twas jes’ at de aidge o’ night, an’ dey didn’t see what
I had. I sunk it befo’ I pulled up to de sho’, an’ dat
way I fooled ‘em. When dey ax me what has I[ got
in de canoe, I say I got myse’f in it—an’ it’s de’troof. :
Dey see dat I ain’ got nuffin’ but some meal an’ meat,
an’ a gun an a few yuther things, when dey done take
a look. So dey went away. But, not knowin’ but dey
might be watchin’, I lef’ de stuff stay in de water a
whole day an’ night. It’s sho’ wet goods now, boss;

“an neo mistake,’

He laughed in the hilarious negro fashion.

Climbing out, he helped pull the canoe well up on
the’ bank, and swung the raft in to the shore, where
it was held by a stake thrust into the mud beyond it.

Lashed to the raft were a number of boxes, cov- ©

ered with a tarpaulin. When the covering was stripped: —
off the boxes were seen to be cases of whisky..

“Fow in the name o’ Sam Hill could you sink the
raft—that is, in a hurry?” the man demanded, as he
inspected the whisky cases.

The negro ki-yied again.
“You ain’ noticin’ dem ropes is spliced,” he said,

  
    
   
   
  
  
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
    
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  

2 7 ae BoReATS

amused.

"em slide into de water.”

“That ain't sinkin’ the raft.”

el stuck de raf’ into some willers.”

“An’ they didn’t see it?”

Dey seen it—yes, suh. Dat’s what make me all
de trouble. Dey want to know what has been on de
ral.

~~ dat I sleeps on it. Den dey tells me I is lyin’, and dey
_. s’plores round an’ pokes in de water; but dey didn’t
git de whisky. ’Case why?—dey cain’t find it.”

“When war this?” asked the man anxiously.

“Three days ago, boss. But I sho’ give "em de slip.
‘When I moves I does it in de night; an’ I -ain’t seen

em ag’in.’

The white man climbed to the top of the bank and
looked long and Se ate up the river. But no one
was in sight.

“T guess you throwed ’em, Rastus,” he said, coming
down.

“Nin? t no doubt but I did, boss.”

“And you seen no Injuns?” .

“Not a one.’ ae Bue,

“Some of ’em was over yisterday, wantin’ whisky.
I tol’ ‘em I'd have plenty next week, and they could
git their furs ready, if they wanted it bad. They
won't wait till next week, if they hear that the stuff
has come.’

He helped the negro pull the raft against the bank,
where they lashed it to a cottonwood. Then they be-
gan to lug the heavy cases ashore and carry pen into
the house.

It was a cabin, as has been said, built of abtoaue se
poles, chinked, and daubed with yellow mud, the yellow
stripes between the poles giving it a sort of zebra look.
The roof was of poles and riven clap boards. The
front of the house was away from the river, and on
the river side the house overhung the water, that end
being on piling that lifted it a few feet above the
stream. There was no door and no window on the

S river side, and but one door and one window at the
front, with a barred hole higher up. . The cabin was
rather tall, so that from the outside it looked to be a
story and a half in height.

It was hard work carrying the cases of whisky into
the house, up the steep and slippery bank, and the
white man and the negro rested at times and talked.

Generally, the talk concerned the incidents of the
negro’s trip to the mountain town, where he had sold
furs and bought the liquor. He had taken up a string
of ponies laden with furs, and had disposed of the
ponies as well as the furs, the negotiations having been
‘conducted through an agent there, it appeared. The
furs and ponies the white man had got from the In-
dians. by trading whisky. )

- “You ain't hear no talk.’bout an Injun war?” said
the negro.

The man took out his pipe, “broke open : package
of tobacco the negro had brought out of the canoe, and

  
 

 
  

X
\
si

6

“T cut de ropes w’at held de cases, and let

I tell ’em nuffin’ ain’t been on de raf’. but me— .

-fiah water.

BILL STORIES.

lighted it with a match, produced also from the canoe’s _
cargo.

“Who do I see to talk to but Injuns? Good. thing
them cowboys didn’t tumble to this tobacco.”

“T throwed it out on the groun’, beyond de willers,
and dey didn’t see it.”

“Ah-h! Now, that’s what I calls terbacker, and to
light it without havin’ to hammer sparks from a
piece o’ flint is certain sure satisfaction!”

The negro smoked with him.

Slat certainly congratulatin’ you, Rastus.
a peart nigger.’

“W’en dey gits ahead o’ Rastus dey has hh bresh de
dew f’um deir feet mighty early in de mawnin’. You
didn’t hear no mo’ ’bout dat Black Chief, did yo?”

The white man laughed.

“Thar ye go ag’in! Who do I git to talk to out
hyar? You're the favored one o’ this pardnership, you
black dawg. You git to go up to town, while I stay
hyar an’ mix with Injuns an’ kyotes.”

He puffed thoughtfully, with eyes half Boked,

“What was it yuh heard ‘bout an Injun war?’ he
asked,

“Dat’s all; de white men was talkin’ about it. Dey
says de Injuns down heah mixes medicine oncet a
month reg’lar. I could ’a’ tol’ ’em how come it so is
dat ‘bout oncet a month we gits in a new supply o’
Ki-yil”

“But you kep’ yer mouth shet ?”

“Trus’ me, boss. W’en I goes tuh talkin’ hit will
be w’en de night hoss is ridin’ me so hahd I don’ know
nuffin’. Ki-yi!’

“I reckon we better git up the rest o’ them cases.”

They continued to smoke, as they lugged up the

other cases, and kept it up while they cached ae in
the cabin.
_ Removing boards from the floor, holes were dis-
closed, and into them the whisky cases were lowered.
When the boards were in place again there was noth-
ing to hint of the whisky caches beneath.

oving finished this job to their satisfaction, they
tore the raft to pieces, cut the cottonwood logs that
composed it into stove wood for their fires, and burned
up the ropes; so that, finally, nothing remained i in sight
to tell of the negro’s voyage but the canoe; and even
that was tucked under the overhang of the cabin,
where the cottonwood poles came close down to the
water.

With a bottle of whisky from one of the, cases, the
negro and the white man made merry for a while;
then, even that was hid away.

“Got to see that we're all ready fer the Injuns when
they come,” said the white man.

From a long box that rested by one of the walls
he brought a queer effigy, human in shape, but repre-
senting neither black man, white man, nor red ;,it wore
white men’s clothing, however. it recciniled any-

You aire

thing, it was one of those hideous idols wild Africans

2A down to, or did once upon a time, in the Congo
or

   
 

 

 
 

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and mu

--scouts and soldiers.

 

  

 

mailed 40
‘try, on account of the rumors of Indian trouble there—
it being reported that the band of Sioux known as the

THE BUFFALO

This effigy thé white man set up against the door,

_ fastening it to it, so that its feet cleared the floor. Up

through one foot he then ran a tube, that eame through
a small hole in the floor, and secured that in place.
But his work was not done until he had placed in the
right hand of the effigy a cocked revolver, which was
then concealed by dropping hand and revolver into
the coat pocket on that side.

When the door stood wide open, the effigy looked
into the room; when the door was shut, it looked. off
across the open land before the cabin.

“Dat sho’ has-got ‘em millin’, boss,’”’ said the negro,
cackling again, as he looked upon the hideous thing.
“An’ I don’ wondeh! When you done put it up de
fus’ time dis hyuh nigger couldn't sleep at night.
Ki-yil”

“Tt’s a cute thing.”

“Call it dat if you wants tuh. I ain’t got no name
But it sho’ does skeer Injuns.”

He strolled out to the stable, a structure of poles
, like the house.
The white man, standing in the cabin, door, heard

him singing in ie stable :
-

fn yo’ golden slippehs mus’ be neat an’ clean,

En yo’ age mus’-a be jes’-a sweet sixteen,

En de darkies all say you will hab a good time,

W’en yo’ ride up in de char’yut in de mawnin’.”

Turning back into the cabin, the white man took

down a small package of newspapers, brought by the —

negro, and opened it. _

They were half a month old, and he was not much
of a reader; but he pored through them, Ngee in
the latest news from civilization.

His eyes dropping on a headline, he looked at it
hard, and read a few words below it.

“What's this?” he said.

He rubbed his eyes, and began to read again.

The paper was from Ogallala, the biggest town on

_ the river, below him, and Buffalo Bill’s name appeared

in the headline. This is the body of the news item:

“Buffalo Bill, the noted scout, who is now in Ogal-
lala, had an interview yesterday ‘with Jack Brandon
and his sister, on from Ohio, searching for their
father, who came to this section some years ago, and
strangely dropped out of sight. Brandon carries a
letter from the Secretary of War, showing that he is
all right; and the letter urges every one on the border
who can do so to help him in his search, particularly
Brandon’s father, it seems, went
into the Sioux country back in the seventies, just be-
fore the gold craze struck the Black Hills. He wrote

- home a few times, speaking of his hopes of soon strik-
ing it rich; then his letters stopped. His last letter

was written somewhere along the Missouri River,
above here; and it appears it was given into the hands
of another man, who brought it down the river and
Buffalo Bill is going into the Sioux coun-

 

. walked to the door.

  

BILL STORIES. oy

Buffalo Killers are dancing and threatening to take to ©
the warpath. Because of this, there is a good deal of
excitement and uneasiness all along the border. _Bran-
don and his sister wanted to go with Cody, but the
noted scout thought it was inadvisable, owing. to the
present situation. With him here now are Pawnee
Bill and a number of his friends. It is thought they.
will set out in a day or two, as they are mow fitting.
out.”

The bearded man, with finger on the page, read this
through to the last word.

When he looked up his face held an ashen pallor, and. . . .

in his eyes was a strange light.

“They'll be comin’: here,’ he whispered hoarsely.
“T’m bettin’ they'll be comin’ here!”

Under stress of excitement he had dropped the dia-
lectic twist generally noticeable in his speech.

“I can fool Cody,” he said; _but—can I fool them?
But perhaps they won't come.’

He read again the statement that Buffalo Bill would
not permit the Brandons to accompany his party.

“I hope Cody sticks to that,” he said; “I hope he
does!”

He a the paper lie on his knees, and looked off into
space.

went years ago—no, fifteen years ago—I come
here. It’s hard to keep track of time. It was twenty
years ago that I left home, back in Ohio, and there’s
been a lot of things happened—but not here. Don't
nothin’ much ever happen here, ’ceptin’ Injun troubles,
and the like of that. And they don’t bother me. But
now——”’

He got up, letting the paper slide to the floor, and
When he put up his hand against
the door it rested close beside the grotesque effigy. For
a long time he stood looking ov@ the rolling land be- -
fore the door, and down the river in the direction of
Ogallala. YUhen he turned back, looked through the
other newspapers, and put them all out of sight.

Having done this, he walked cut to the stable.

He had resumed his pipe and his former manner,
and the ashy pallor was fading out of his bearded
cheeks.

The negro, rubbing. down the horses in the stable,
was still singing:

“Dem golden slippehs l’se a-gwine to wear,
When Ah walk upon dem golden streets.”

\

me

_ CHAPTER IL.
A STARTLED REDSKIN,

As soon as the white man disappeared in the stable
an Indian’s head feather rose out of a willow clump
by the stream, followed by the head and body of the
Indian.

Snuggling his blanket closely about ic the Indian
began to steal cautiously toward the cabin, keeping it
between himself and the stable.

  

 

  
< coe

oe cae THE BUFFALO

He had been up to the cabin before, when the white
man and the negro were in it, and, through a hole
made by the falling away of some of the mud daubing
of the walls, he had looked in and seen them drinking
whisky out of the bottle.

The Indian-was a Sioux, of the tribal section bear-
ing the name of Buffalo Killers, and he had approached
the cabin in the hope of getting fire water.

Tt seemed now to his savage mind that a great op-

~~ portunity had come, wherein he could satisfy at the

same time his innate love of fire water and his equally

-annate love of stealing. He would rather steal the

fire water, or anything else, than buy it, or even have
it given to him. t
Having from his place of concealment seen the land-

- ing of the canoe and raft, and the carrying of the
whisky cargo into the cabin, he thought he could

readily lay his hands on as many bottles as he could
lug off, and get away with the feat while the white
man and the negro were in the stable.

To accomplish this feat required haste; and he has-
tened, but with moccasins shod with silence.

When he gained the cabin wall it was necessary for
him to reach the one door, which was at the front and
in full view from the stable. This, he knew, would
require quick work, and, after that, a quick get-away
with the coveted goods.

When he poked his Roman nose round the corner of
the cabin he saw no one, and made a silent jump for
the door.

He nearly retreated when he saw the effigy on the
door. ' He had heard of the thing many times, and
had even seen it; but heshad braced his courage to face
it, and get past it into the house. He was helped in
this determination now by the fact that, the door being
wide open, the . of the thing did not look in his
direction.

So he ducked aa sidled by it, shivering suddenly,
as if a cold wind had struck him. He would not look
at it.

Then a startling thing occurred—so startling that
when it happened the Indian bounded halfway to the
ceiling and let out a yell that was sufficient evidence
of his fright.

As he started to cross the room, to look for the
whisky bottle, the image on the door emitted a screech-
ing and hair-raising whistle ; and when the Indian gave
an involuntary jump, and whirled to dash out, the right
arm of the image swung out of the pocket, pointing a
revolver, and a loud explosion followed.

The redskin’s eagle feather was shorn away by the
bullet. Feeling the quick tug of the lead, he thought
his scalp lock was gone, and ‘yelled again.

A kangaroo jump took him through the door, and
another round the corner of the cabin, after which he
ran with a speed that straightened the flowing blanket
out behind him like a floating table.

By the time the white man and the negro were out
of the stable the Indian was in the willows, and before
they reached the open cabin door the redskin was in

 

BILL STORIES. ‘

the river, submerged to his nose, and was going down-
stream with the swiftness of a swimming otter._

White man and negro, swinging revolvers, ran
round the cabin, when they discovered that it was
empty, and stared off at the river, without seeing the
intruder. es

“What's de meanin’, boss?”

“Some one got into the house, 0’ course, and got out
too quick for us to see him.”

He drew back cautiously, round the corner of the
cabin.

“Better git back hyar, Rastus,’ he advised. ‘The
critter tuck to the willers, ye kin be shore, an’ he might
sling lead.”

Rastus ducked back.

“T don’ see nobody.”

“He’s hidin’ thar. I’m figgerin’ it war a red, lookin’
for whisky. Reason I figger that out is, thar ain’t no
white men round hyar—not any as we know of.”

“Ef he went into dem willers, it is sho’ likely dat
he has tuck to de water,’’ said the negro.

“You keep watch hyar, while I look round in the
cabin.”

As he stepped in he saw the eagle plume which the
bullet had sheared away, on the floor.

“Jes’ as I thought—a red; an’ ol’ Moloch come
mighty nigh a-gittin’ him.”

He looked at the hideous figure on the door, and
stepped carefully, striding wide as he walked across
the room, taking particular care not to tread on cer-
tain boards of the floor.

“He got his skeer, an’ got it good, bout soon’s
he entered,” he commented, as he looked round. ‘That
war shore the best shootin’ ol’ Moloch ever done. I
reckon if his arm had drapped lower he’d ’a’ plugged
that redskin right plumb through the skull. Looks it.”

He picked up the plume and examined it.

“Sioux—jes’ as I thought; Buffler Killer Sioux.
And, o’ course, he wanted whisky—they all do. An’
he ‘lowed he’d git it without pay, while I war out in
the stable. That’s plain enough.”

With a sudden jerk of apprehension and remem-
brance, he glanced at the box in which he had thrust
the newspapers. But they remained undisturbed.

“Tl have to tuck them away better. Ain’t no use
even of Rastus seein’ them.”

He stepped over and pushed the package farther into
the box. Then he turned round and went outside.

“Ain't seen a fing, boss,” Rastus reported. “Ef he
is hidin’ in dem willers, he is sho’ roostin’ close'to de

ground,”

“You still watch hyar, whilst I goes out on the hill
and takes a look frum thar,” the w hite man requested ;
“ain't no sense in walkin’ straight up to the willers.
He’s been skeered bad. Skeer hie a little more, an’
he might go to shootin’ wicked. Ye cain’t never tell
what a red will do, in them conditions.” =
Slowly he walked out to the rise above the river,
watchful of the willows and the stream, a cocked re-
volver swinging ready in his right hand.

 

 

 
ee rs ct

Cv

the raft.

 

 

\. THE? BUPEALO

But by the time he gained the ridge and iadlked
down into the willows the redskin was a quarter of a
mile downstream, and still going.

“T don’t see nothin’,’ ’ he called back to the negro.

“Same hyuh. Dat redskin is playin’ alligator, ef
down dar.”

The white man returned to the cabin:

“Huccome you can be so sho’ dat it was an Injun?”
the negro demanded.

_ “What else could it been?’ i

*““Acksdent.”’

The white man exhibited the warrior’s plume,

“Found this on the floor. You can see whar the
bullet cut it.”

“Wah-hoo! Ol’ Molick was done shootin’ close
dat time. I ain’t wondeh dat redskin flew. He qjdn’t
need no bird wings to send ’im along. Ki-yil” —

He looked at the willows.

“Skeered lack dat says, I bet he ain’t dar now. Ef
he didn’t have yuthers wid him, he’d keep a-goin’.’

*‘T think he was alone, and that he saw us unload
Then, when we war both’ in the barn, he
cal'lated he'd try fer some o’ the fire water. He
stepped on the boards thar, and ol’ Moloch got into
gear. He come mighty nigh bein’ a dead redskin.
Well, so long’s no more harm was done, it will be a

good thing. He'll tell about it, and the others will

keep off, or come with the goods to trade.”’

“You don’t reckon dey can be yuthers.in de wil-
lers?”’

“We can find out.”

“An’ git shot? You go do it, boss; ('ll stay hyuh an’

%

watch. Ki-yi!”

Though confident that the Indian had made an es-
cape by way of the river, they watched the willows an
hour, before the white man was willing to venture

down to investigate.

What he found when he got there were moccasin
tracks in the mud, and close by the water, where the
Indian had approached, and then had so hurriedly taken
his departure.

“He got into the river an’ swum downstream,” he

reported, when he came back to the cabin, where the
negro had remained, refusing to take part in the in-
vestigation. “And he’s fur enough off by now.%

Together they reéntered the cabin, after talking it
over, stepping high and wide, to avoid the boards that
the Indian had touched.

“Git me a ca’tridge, Rastus.’’

The negro brought over a fluted belt, filled with
forty-fives.

“Des’ de looks 0’ dat critteh is enough to th’ow a
man into a sweat, widout him beginnin’ to shoot wid

dat pistol an’ blow his whistle. I bet yo’, dat Injun
don’ come roun’ hyuh no mo’.

2-99

The white man tried to laugh, but unsuccessfully. He
was thinking of thet newspaper report that had startled
him quite as much as the action of ol’ Molochihad
startled the rum-thirsty redskin.

Taking the revolver, he reloaded the discharged :

G

 

BILL STORIES: | 5

chamber: then he carefully readjusted it in the hand
of the image, with the weapon cocked, and a wire
finger touching the trigger, and hid hand and revolver
in the coat pocket.
Looking on, the negro scratched his woolly head.
“Only thing what I don’ like ’bout dis hyuh is,”
he remarked, “dat some day I’s a-goin’ to forgit ‘bout

, dem boards; an’ when [I does—bim! I’m. a-goin’ to

git a bullet.”

“Waal, I don’t keep it tleged up ready ae bigness
all ther time!”

" Des’ one time is enough—ef it gits me!”

“You needn't let it trouble you the rest of the after-
noon, fer I’m goin’ to let you straddle a hoss and go
down river, and poke round down thar.”

“Huntin’ fuh dat Injun?”

“You can mebbyso. see whar he left the water, and
find his trail. He didn’t stay in the river long. Then
you can find out if thar war any others with him. It’s
mighty important to know. I don’t allow that thar
is really any danger that they'd come back in the night
and raid the place. I don’t think they would; but I'd
jes’ like to know if he war alone.”

The negro seemed rather glad to go—to getiaway
from the danger he feared in the cabin; and.as he

~passed out he sidled past the image, with his staring

eyes fixed on the hideous face.

“Uh-huh!” he grunted, as he got outside and turned
toward the stable. “Ol Molick, he sho’ does gib me
de creeps. I wouldn’t use no sich tricks, even to skeer
Injuns; fur some day he’s sho’ a- ene tuh git me or
de boss. Now I’m talkin’ !”’

 

CHAP ERR AIT.
IMITATION COWBOYS.

Two hours before.sunset the negro came back, and
exchanged his horse for the canoe.

“T ain't no feesh,” he said; “an’ I don’ like to swim.
Dat Injun didn’t come out on dis side.”

“Why didn’t ae swim the hoss over?’ the white
man asked.

“T tried it, an’ he bucked.
neither, no betteh than me.”

“Whisky is what you like.”
_ “Ki-yil Ef I liked it like some Injuns does, dem
whisky cases’d never got down hyuh—now J tell yuh.
You ain't been seein’ nuthin’ while I was gone § ce

“Nothin’.”

The negro pulled out the canoe, and dritied down-.
stream, and the white man went back into the cabin,
to a rereading of some of the things he had been
picking out of the newspapers.

As before, he returned after a time to the Ogallala
account of Buffalo Bill and the scout’s interview with
the Brandons.

“Tf they do come up hyar, the fede will sure corral
‘em,’ he reflected aloud. ‘Me and Rastus could see
to that, and could see that they didn't git away agin.

He don’ like water,

 

 
  

Co THE BUFFALO

Give a red fire water, and he’ll do anything. Besides,
thar’s reports, Rastus says, that the Buffler Killers
aire fire eating and ready fer meanness. In that way

it could be accounted fer easy, if an investigation was '

started.. Yes, Rastus and me will see/to that. But Tm
hop*? they keep away.”

He was startled from his reveries s by a halloo.

“Rastus back? Yet that didn’t sound like him.”

He jumped to the door, the newspaper in his hands.

On a hill out in front sat two cowbeys—as at first
sight he judged them to be. One of them had sent the
halloo.

The white man anos back, without answering,
carefully avoiding the boards that connected with the
image by concealed springs and wires, and tucked the
newspapers out of sight, sweeping them, et
hastily.

Then he disconnected Moloch from the aaa quite
as hastily.

Not until he had stored the image out of sight in
the long box by the wall, and had dooked carefully

round, to make sure that nothing of a telltale character
was to be seen, did he appear at the door again.

The two. cowboys were still out on the hill, when
the white man stepped out in front of the cabin.

‘Elello’’ he called, answering the repeated hails:
“Won't you drap dowe an’ jine mer

They rode forward at this invitation.
proached he looked them over carefully.
_ One was thirty or thirty-five years old, he judged;
the other younger and slighter in build.- It gave him a
start, when he discovered that their faces lacked the

characteristic wind tan of the plains, and that they
rode as if not thoroughly at home tm their deep sad-
dles.

“Them ain’t no cowboys!” he oe in his thick
beard. “So, what does it mean?”

They came up and greeted him in a hopeful, cheery
manner, sitting in their deep saddles before the cabin
door. But he was on his guard, and wary, though he

. was trying not to show it.

“Won't ye light down?” he invited, seeking to be
genial; and also because he wanted to get at the true
inwardness of this, which he considered a strange

_ thing, for he knew now that they were not cowboys.

The older of the two glanced off at the sun.

_ “About an hour until night,” he said; ‘‘so we don’t
know but we'd like to accept your invitation. We've
ridden far, and are beat out.”

“Hyar is my house, and out thar is my stable; quar-
ters fer men and for hosses; ye’re welcome to ’em
both.”

They accepted his invitation, put their horses in the
. stable, and came into the cabin.

“Have you seen any Indians about ?” was one of
the things they asked him.

“Thar war a red round this neighborhood to-day,”
he said, “but I didn’t connect up with him. I think
he war jes’ lookin’ to steal ee ; reds aire power-
ful bad as thieves.” |

As they.-ap-

   

 

BILL STORIES.

Shey don't trouble you, living out here SO far from
every one else?”

“Waal, I treats ’em right, ye know; so I ain't fig-
gern that they will bother me.

“But don’t you get very lonesome here?” Sc the
younger of the two.

“Nope; ef I did, I wouldn't stay. Sante to reason
that a man don’t Sey whar he don't like it, unless he
has to.”

“Vou hunt for a living, I suppose; amd, of course,
you're always armed 2”

“Hunt an’ trap, ‘he said; “I been at it a good many
y’ar now, an’ enj’y it.. Now and then I has comp’ny;
when some one comes erlong, like you, and stops, bein’
strangers to the country, they tells me stories about
theiselves, and so I has somethin’ new to think about
—fer a while.”

The younger, who had been questioning, stopped,
confused, and looked at the other.

“My name is Morgan,’ the speaker went on, in a
tone that invited confidence, while he closely studied
the face and figure of the younger; “Nat Morgan.
You may have heerd ©’ me, fer I been on this border a
long time, and does a consid’able bizness in fur
tradin’,” a

“And you live here all alone?”

“SE has.a colored man livin’ with me. I done him
a favor onct, an’ he has tuck to me, and stays hyar; he
helps in the trappin’ and huntin’. You ain’t seein’ him
round, ’case he has gone down the river to-day in his
canoe; but-I reckon. he'll be comin’ back ‘long about
night.”’

The tone still invited confidence.

“Our name is Brandon,” said the younger, with an-
piney look at the older.

The man who had given his name as Nat Morgan
tightened his jaws almost convulsively and his face
paled; but he made shift to conceal these things by
rising and stepping toward the door.

“Thought I heerd that nigger comin’ back,” he said,
as he turned about again.

“He had control of himself, but his face was still
pale. He knew it, and bustled about the room, finally
producing his pipe and fussing with it and the package
of tobacco.

His movements to and fro gave his visitors time
and opportunity to put their heads together and ex-
change a whispered conference. The result was ap-
parent when Morgan sat down and oe to thumb
tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

“We think,” said the elder, “that if we tell you our
story, you can perhaps help us with ee}, if
nothing else. We are Sater in this section.”

“And not cowboys,” said the younger.

“To tell the truth,” continued the other, “we are
brother and sister. I am Jack Brandon, and this is
my sister Louise.e I have always called her Lou; and
that can stand for Louis as well as for Louise. We
thought it would be safer and better every way if she
wore man’s clothing on this trip, for we oc to be

 
 

 

oe : _ THE BUFFALO

in some w ild country; so we boniht a cowboy outfit
at Ogallala.

“Indians were reported troublesome up in this sec-
tion, when we set out from Ogallala, and we feared
we might run into them; but so far we haven't seen
even one.”

Morgan scratched a match noisily, drew it across his
pipe, and hid his face behind a thick cloud of smoke,
which he produced hastily. |

“This hyar sounds mighty int ‘restin’, he said; “jes’
fer all the world like a story. I didn’t know but meb-

-byso the little one war yer brother; but—yer sister! -

You've got me plum’ millin’, fer wonder.”
“You think that it was foolish and reckless for me
to come at all,’ said the girl, a hot flush now on her

face; Dut 7) couldn’t stay behind there in Ogallala,
after Jack was determined to go. You see, Mr. Cody
was i

 

“Buffler Bill, ye mean?’ said Morgan, behind his
screen of smoke.

“Yes; he wouldn't let Jack go with ie So Jack
he decided to go alone.”

Nt Buffler Bill? Whar is it he war ein’? fe

“Out into this Indian country,” said Jack Brandon,
taking up the thread of conversation. ‘‘There are
some Indians out here locally called the Buffalo Kill-
ers; they're Sioux, it’s said. And it is said, also, that
they have a black chief, who is reported to be a negro;
and lately they have been war dancing and threaten-
ing a border war. On account of that, Cody and some

_.of his friends were on the point of leaving Ogallala

for this section; anyway, they were going to follow the
Missouri River up, but I don’t know how far. They
hoped to do something’ to quiet the Indians and save
trouble.”
- “Uh-huh!” grunted Morgan. “TI see.’

“When he wouldn't let me be a member a his party,
_I decided to go on alone; then my sister said she was
going, if I did; and here we are. We got out of Ogal-
lala the day before ‘Buffalo Bill’s party was to start.”

“You was doin’ this fer a reason, er fer fun?”

“For the most important reason in the world, Mr.
Morgan: I’m coming now to that. Weare here hunt-
ing for information of our father, Jasper Brandon,
who came into this region several years ago. He

eae

pushed on toward the Black Hills, as he was looking

for gold. We had a letter from him; or, rather, our

family did—we were rather small then, you understand

—a letter written from some point up here, on this
very river. And that was the last.”

“Uh-huh !”

“You've been in this oat how many years, Mr.
Morgan?” ~

*“More’n i like to remember.”

~ “And in all that time you never Vals of Jasper
Brandon: n

Morgan couched cepabently he had swallowed.

some of the tobacco smoke.
he all them - ‘ars I never has heerd of him.”

BILL StTOsInS. | ee

“But you are very familiar with all this coy, ae
of course?” said the girl,

“T knows every. mile of it!” “%. |

“Then you can help us, I’m sure,’ said Jack Bran-
don. “And I’m going to ask you first, how far is it
to where these Indians are—the Buffalo Killers?” —

“T lopes on a hoss a good deal, and don’t count
miles; so I’ll have ter figger. Lemme see—I reckon
it’s somewhar round fifty miles, if you mean their

village; but you're li’ble to meet parties of ‘em out

anywhar; as I tol’ ye, one of them war right in this
cabin this afternoon, tryin’ to steal somethin’, ‘as 1
reckoned.”

“Right in here?’ said the girl, looking round.

ot heard him—I was out at the stable; and he war

‘gone ‘fore I could git into the house; he went that

quick.”

“And he didn’ t steal anything?’

“Not’s I could diskiver.”’ |

“This talk of trouble with the Indians; there i§ noth-
ing in it, is there?” asked Jack Brandon. “We didn’t
take much stock in it.” ee

Per why 2”

“We met men there in Ogallala who said that; they
said the Indians were always dancing up here, and that
it didn’t amount to anything; that there had been no
serious trouble with them for years. They got whisky
somewhere, was the report, and at times that made
them ugly; but they had been thoroughly whipped and’ |
cowed long ago, and would never_again try to make
trouble. They advised us that if we wanted to come
up here it would be as safe as if we took a pleasure

' jatint out through any country.”’

“You don’t think that?” said the girl anxiously.

“That the reds gits likker ?”’

“That they are entirely peaceful, and will stay so?”

They’ re plum’ peaceable—to- me. “That's the only
way I can judge, ain't it. All the y’ars I has lived hyar
I ain’t been molested, ’ceptin’, as I reported, onct in a
while a red sneaks in hyar an tries to steal some-

thing.” 7
“But even that doesn’t make serious trouble for
you?”

“IT don’t make no trouble at all; pee re plum’ peace-
able—to me.’

“Tt makes me feel easier to hear you say so,’
confessed.
. “Lou is a brave girl,”

’ she

said her brother: “there isn’t

a braver girl anywhere, and if we had to fight a tribe |

of Indians she would stand up to the work; that is, if,
by doing it, she thouglit we could locate father.”

“It's the thinking about it beforehand that makes
me nervous, that’s all,” she admitted.

Morgan blew away the smoke with which he had

been enveloping his head and looked at them craftily
just a sharp look, shot like a spear.

“You're thinkin’ that mebbyso yer dad is livin’ yit?”
“We're hoping that he is. We have thought. of
many things that might have happened to him; for
one thing, he nnEet be held by the Indians’ as a Be

 
Pie

a8) ee BUFFALO ‘BILL STORIES.

 

oner. That As why we want to go on to this, Indian
village. And it is also the reason we asked. if you
knew anything aboug the Black Chief. a

mE see,

His head was again in the tobacco smoke.

“I have thought, too,” said the girl, “since sitting

here, that we might perhaps be able to hire you as a

euide, to conduct us to that village.”

“T reckon I Could do it,” he said, a queer click in
his voice.

“And if it is only fifty miles, it wouldn’t take long
to go there, on our horses.”

“But you couldn’t go on tp- -night, nohow.”

“We're going to ask you,” said Jack Brandon, “‘to
let us stay here in your house to-night. And we'd
like to leave our animals in your stable.
pay you

“Out hyar thar ain’t no pay fer sech things,” sai
_ Morgan; “and you kin stay an’ welcome, if you can

put up-with the place and the poor stuff I've got to feed
ye. with.

He began: to baste: round, getting out things for
supper, but he was careful not to go near tite long
box that held old Moloch, and now and then he caught
himself stepping high and mide to avoid certain boards
in the floor.

The girl asked to help bi get supper, but he re-
fused.

“T know whar the things aire,” he explained, ‘
twon't take me long. Last trip my nigger eet to
the tradin’ store he brought down a few things, so we
can have bacon an’ coffee, an’ reg’lar flour bread.
You're welcome to everything I has got. It’s so sel-
dom that I sees a white face that your comin’ has made
me feel spry as a boy.”

He certainly stepped alertly as he moved about; but
his face was still pale, and a close observer might have
detected that his assumed geniality and friendliness was
a forced product.

As he prepared the coffee and fried the bacon he
asked again and again about Buffalo Bill, and. ae
Jasper Brandon.

Once he made a peculiar slip; at the ‘moment he
seemed to be musing:

“Old Jeff Ellers said onct

He stopped as suddenly as he ee
._ The brother and sister looked at him.

~ “You've been in Tannersville, Ohio?” asked Jack
Brandon. "

“Never heerd o’ ther place,” said Morgan, stooping
over the frying pan. Whyevef do you ask that?”

“Well, I didn’t suppose there was a Jeff Ellers any-

_ where else in the world but in Tannersville.” |

co Tis hyar Jeff Ellers what I knowed,” lied Morgan,
“lived out in Denver, but he’ s dead now—dead y’ars
vago. Pokin’ at this hyar meat’ made me think of him.
We used to cgok together, an’ bunk together, an’ hunt
together; but it war y’ars ago.”

‘The supper was good, they said; they had ae
appetites: and were hungry. And Jack Brandon, sam-

 

 

mp

 

We could.

He pointed down.

  

   

pling Morgan's smoking tobacco after supper, aid that
was good, too.

Moved by his pretended spirit of hospitality, Mor-
gan started to get out his whisky bottle, but changed
his mind before he reached the shelf where he kept
it, and said:

Oty I have ter occupy the upstairs room, but bein’
that you're brother and sister, that will be all right. I
won't need to wake. ye airly in the morning.”

Ata late hour they went upstairs togetheg, two cow-
boy-looking figures, and vanished from his side, after
they had climbed the narrow ladder and slipped through
the cubby-hole door.

Morgan looked after them, his face whitening again,
then stepped to the shelf, took down his bottle of
whisky, and drank.

Holding it in his hand he looked toward the ladder.

“TInjuns won't trouble you, an’ you won't trouble
the Injuns—now,” he whispered; “and I won't need
to wake ye up airly 1 in the morning. I've got to stay
in this country, an’ I’m a-goin’ to. So good-by!”

Slipping to the overhang after a while, he got busy
with a wrench.

Some time later, hearing a stratching on the door,
he jumped as if shot at.

When he opened the door he beheld the head of the

negro.

Vou re shakin’ like er dawg,” he said, “an’ wet as
a drowned rat; what’s the meanin’ ?”

“Ro Lawd’s sake, lemme in, boss!’ the negro
begged.

“Come in, then, but be quiet. What’s happened
tosyer”?

With the door closed behind him, the negro stood
up and rolled his eyes round. His clothing was soaked,
and he was shaking with fright.

“Who's hosses is dem in de stable 2”

Morgan jerked a finger toward the lattder and the
upper room.

“The riders 0’ them hosses have been upstairs, eine
said, in an impressive whisper, “an’ now aire thar!”
“Did them hosses. skeer ye: ne

“No, boss, not dem; it was somepin’ wuss ’p. hosses.
Gimme a drink, will ye? I sho’ is goin’ tuh drap, ef
yo’ doan’t do it quick.”

“Keep still,” warned Morgan, his anne trembling,
a's he brought out the whisky, “and tell me what has
happened!”

The negro gurgled the whisky bottle over his nose
and took fresh courage.

“You knows I went down the river in de boat, he
said.

“Yes, this afternoon, tryin’ to find out what had
become of that redskin.”

“"Twan’t him, boss, but it happened.on de river,
not fur off f'um dis place. I was paddlin’ ‘long . sof’,
when somepin’ grab de gunnel o? dat boat; an’ me,
I des goes oveh into de water. And den”—he rolled

his eyes round—‘“de thing grabbed me by de laig!”
, said Morgan;

+7

“It was a fish

 

“you! re a fool

 
 
 

  

 
    

Cy

oe SN ieee

  

 

 

 

ie

feesh done talked!’

“What?” £

Brandon's voice rose in spite of his desire to a
it down.

“I’m speakin’ it; dat feesh done could talk; fo" I
heard it.’

“What do you mean?”

“T doan’ know what I mean. All I am knowin’ is
1 got back in de boat, wid dat feesh hangin’ tuh my
laig, an’ den I got away f’m it. When I come to mah
senses, boss, I was paddlin’ dat ole canoe twenty miles
an hour ag’inst dat ole Missouri current. Naw, I ain’
lyin’ tuh yuh, an’ I ain’t been drinkin’; I ain’t seen no
likker sense I lef’ de house hyuh; I'm des tellin’ you
de troof.’’

EP otiays it war that Injun you tried to foller.”

“Boss, dat feesh didn’t talk no Injun way o’ talkin’ ;
dat feesh done talk like he is a edjicated white man;

dat’s what he talk like.’

Morgan gave.a jump and looked scared; then took

a drink from the whisky bottle himself.

 

“T don’t reckon Set down,” he commanded,
“and tell me all about it.”
“T has done tol’ you all abcut it; all what I know.”

Morgan clutched a clumsy chair, steadied himself,
and sat down.

“T learnt a few things—whilst you war gone,’ = he
said. “Them hosses belongs to two young fools that
come out hyar projeckin’ round, in spite o’ the fact
that they had been warned thar’ war a likelihood of
Injun trouble an’ they might lose their scalps. Funny
thing is,” he looked round furtively and sank his voice
to a whisper, “they come frumva place whar I used to

be knowed. If they stay round hyar they may recog-

nize me, so I concluded to invite °em to walk up-

Stairs.” -

The negro rolled the whites of his eyes | at the ceiling.
“Too bad tuh do dat, boss,’ he said, “if hit ain’t
needed !”
“T thought it war needed.”
‘“Too bad tuh do hit, anyway, boss.”
“That’s.a pint fer me to settle.”
The negro rolled his eyes again at the ceiling and

shook his head.

“Nohow, I doan’t.want no sech bizness fo’ mine,’’ he
urged.
_ “You ain’t listenin’ to me. They come from Ogal-
lala, and the day after they set out fer this section,

Buffler Bill set out with a party fer the same place.”

“Dat’s goin’ to make trouble, ef he comes foolin’
round hyuh. i
“The p’int I’m comin’ to is this.”

“T’m lissenin’, boss.”’

“Could that thing that got hold of You have been
Buffler Bill or one of his men—or the young feller that
was up thar?”

_ “T doan’ know, boss; I dunno nuffin ; but dat feesh
which got me by de laig an’ mos’ tip oveh de canoe has
sho’ got a white man’s voice.”

THE BUFFALO BILL

~ “Flesh, man, till you heah what I’se tellin’ yo’; dat.

war songs. Last time he war up

  

  

STORIES | 6

“L-reckon I’m jes’ skeery,” said Morgan, tapping —
the whisky bottle again, “and I reckon you imagined ,
the most o’ that; can’t be no other way. . But even if
it’s so—what of it?”

“Come: mighty -tteah drowndin’ me, boss!”

“Suppose even that it was Buffler Bill himself—and
that’s a plum’ foolish supposition; it don’t prove any-
thing’ Suppose he had‘clim’ into the canoe with you,
and had come on to the cabin hyar with ye, and he had
come in, an’ set in thet chair, an’ said that he is Buf-
fler Bill, that wouldn’t amount to anything—so long
as he don’t know what we aire doin’ hyar.. And, of
course, it couldn’t been him—that’s foolish; and I
think you imagined it. As fer the young fool who was |
up thar——’’

“Gimme me anotheh drink, boss,” the negro begged;
“T’m skeered, an’ I doan’ know nuffir’.”

 

CEEA Pole TV.
OLD NOMAD IN THE UPSTAIRS ROOM.

The man who came to the top of the hill before the
cabin, the next day, followed the trail of two horses.
He was an old man, and was mounted on a wiry, raw-
boned horse.

Drawing rein when he beheld the cabin, he shaded —
his eyes with his hand and inspected it.

“Waal, they went thar,’’ he said, “er my name ain’t
Nick N omad. I ain't been erlong this part o’ the old
Mizzoury fer y’ars, an’ I didn’t know "bout that cabin.
Ef anybody’s at home I can ast a few questions, an’
ef not I kin pick up the trail ag’in. But thet boy an’
gal aire plum’ the biggest fools thet ever hit saddle
leather.

He continued to mumble his thoughts, after he had
again set his horse in motion.

“Ef all signs don’t fail, thar’s er goin’ ter be a heap
o’ Injun deviltry kicked up in this kentry soon er
sooner. Yisterday I found a signal arrer settin’ in
the mud by the river; et war painted red, whach shore |
means war, an’ et war bent over in the direction of the _
nearest white men’s séttlements, which meant, ergin, —
thet they’re to be struck; then et had a half moon
nicked by a knife in one side, which meant that ther —
killin’ would bergin in half a month. And et had been
set thar in the mud three days er so ago; the dryness 0’

the mud an’ other things told thet.

“Down on Porkypine Creek, as I comer erlong -

_ three days ago, I met up with my ole friend, Wolf- “eye —

Simpson, what has a cabin thar, and keeps ther run o”
things, an’ he said thet ther Buffler Killer reds has been
crowhoppin’ fer two months, at ~~ and singin’
yy their village he
tried to sneak in, and git a look at ther Black Chief— _
him bein’ et up by cur’osity on thet p’int, but he
couldn’t. ~“An’——
He came up by the stable and drew rein suddenly,
cutting short his mumbling cogitations. oo
“Waugh!” he grunted, looking through the open

 

  
  

   

a
ert

 

®

IO THE BUFFALO
door of the stable. “Ef them ain’t ther two caballos I
has been this long time trailin’, I’m blind 0’ one eye an’
cain’t see out o’ t’other.”’ tne

There were two other horses in the stable, but he
gave them no attention.

“So I reckon the two fools I has follered aire in
thet house. Waal, I'll jes’ step in and see ‘em, and
then I'll give ’em the mind of'an ole man what don’t
approve o’ no sech foolishness.”

When he drew up before the door and hailed, the
door was swung open promptly, and Nat Morgan ap-
peared. | a

Nomad had been smiling, but the wrinkles round his
mouth suddenly hardened and his expression changed.
“No, I reckon I won’t come in,”’ he said, when Mor-
gan invited him to enter, “but [Pll ax ye ‘bout ther
owners 0 them two mustang caballos back in yer
stable?”

Morgan stared and hesitated. He was on the point
of declaring that they were his; then decided not to.

“The owners o’ them mustangs stopped with me las”
night,’”’ he said, studying Nomad’s face, which was
unfamiliar to him.

“So they ain’t hyar now?”

“They're round somewhars—I dunno jes’ whar.
You war wantin’ to see ’em?”

“Ruther,” said Nomad dryly.

“They walked out down toward the' river, more’n
two hours ago; I been lookin’ fer ’em back any time.”

Nomad dug a heel into Hide-rack.

“T'll jes’ mosey down thar an’ connect up wi’ ’em,”’
he said.

“You come back—if ye don’t find ’em,” said Mor-
gan, with peculiar emphasis.

“Thankee kindly,” said Nomad, taking out his pipe
and biting on the stem, “I will.”

He chewed at the pipe stem as he went down the
slope, to hide the distrustful expression which he
feared was revealing itself in his face. At the same
time he kept his head half turned, as if he looked at
the ground; but it was for the purpose of having an
ear trained on the cabin, for somehow, without any
apparent good reason, he feared a shot from the man,
yet he believed, should it be attempted, he could detect
its. coming by some movement.
~ “Waugh!” he mouthed, as he got down by the wil-
lows. “Thar’sa snake fer ye. I has got ter investigate
him shore as shootin’.”

_ He looked about for tracks, having in mind the
shape of shoes he was to look for, as he had seen their
cutlines at more than one camping place. At the end
of ten minutes he had covered a good deal of ground.

“Them two fools playii’ cowboys didn’t come down
Ly this place none “whatever,” he growled; “‘so thet war
a lie; they couldn't walk down hyar without makin’
tracks,”

He went on beside the willows, then back-tracked

end criss-crossed. eo ae

“Er lie,” he grumbled; ‘er big lie. Now,” he looked
oft at the cabin, ““whyever was thet lie spoke?”

     

BILL STORIES.

He drove old. Hide-rack farther along the stream,
looking everywhere. Suddenly he reined in.

“Injuns!’’ he whispered, and dropped a hand softly
to his revolver. . a

There was a moccasin track in the mud.

When he went farther on, his keen old eyes search-
ing every yard of ground, he discovered other moc-
casin tracks.

‘Been between a dozen er twenty redskins right hyar
this very day,” he said; “‘an’ thet critter up thar either
didn’t know et er didn’t want ter mention et. What
war they doin’ hyar?”

Further searching showed that the Indians had dis-
embarked from a canoe, that the canoe had come from
down the river, and gone up the river—this last being
in the direction of the cabin. The indentations made

_ by the\prow, the peculiar manner in which the sand

and mud had been brushed by it, and by the feet of
the Indians as they got out of the canoe and entered it,
said all this to the keen-eyed old borderman, whose
work as a trail finder and sign reader could hardly be
equalled, or even approached, by any white man on the
frontier. |

Turning his horse about, after having made these
discoveries, old Nomad rode slowly along the stream,
in the direction of the cabin. :

As he did so he watched for more “sign,” and at
the same time kept a watch on the cabin and on the
river banks opposite, for he had no notion of being
shot down or bushwhacked from beyond the river.

When he came close up to the cabin he saw that. the
canoe had landed there, that the Indians had got out,
on that side of the cabin, and that they had ascended
the bank. Then a telltale odor reached him—the odor
of stale whisky.

Nomad looked for an empty whisky bottle, and did
not see it; the odor came from the ground.

“Them redskins had likker and spilt some o’ et hyar;
must er hurt ’em bad ter done that; I’m wonderin’ ef
thet whisky come frum this cabin? This is a purty
hide-out hyar, snugged in under them hills and screened
by willers.”’

ree eyes flicked over the cabin, taking in the de-
tails. :

“They went to the cabin and they come back, then.
got in the canoe and left. So I reckon I has got ter
interview thet feller up thar erg’in, though he won't
like et. An’ ef I do I has got to make out friendly.”

: Morgan was at the cabin door when Nomad appeared
there.

“I didn’t see nothin’ of them two fellers I war lookin’
fer,” the latter reported.

“Waal, they may not git back before to-morrer, er
mebbyso the next day,’”’ said Morgan, “fer, ye see, they
went out wi ther idee of flaggin’ and shootin’ ante-
lopes. ‘That war why they left their hosses in my
stable; thought they could do better on foot.” :

Nomad looked about. The ground before the door
was hard, and the moccasin tracks did not show, nor
had they shown except close by the river,

 
 

THE BUBLALO

“Won't you light,” said Morgan, “an’ lemme put yer

hoss in the stable? I got room enough still in thar.”
~ “Thankee kindly,” said Nomad; “I itl ;
He swung down, then walked out to the stable with
Morgan, where old Hide-rack was made comfortable.
“Whyever did ye want to see them two men ?” asked
Morgan.
“Only cause is, I ain’t seen ‘em in a good while—
not sense they left Ogallala. What I’m thinkin’ of
now is, I seen Injun tracks down by the willers, an’ ef
they went down thar mebbyso they fell inter ther hands
o’ them Injuns.”’ ,
_ Morgan started; he had not known that the Indians
had disembarked in the willows—a thing they had done
silently and secretly, with the idea of making certain
whether the owner of the cabin was at home before
they showed themselves. They had come to trade
furs for whisky, but they had preferred to steal the
whisky, if they could. Morgan had been at home, so

they had reémbarked and came up to the cabin. They

traded furs for what whisky they got; for they were
afraid of Morgan, and afraid of the thing he kept on
his door.
‘didn’t know any Injuns had been down tiene) ate
said; “but, even so, the Injuns hyarbouts aire plum’
friendly enough ter eat out 0’ yer hand.”
“Then, o’ course, them two fellers aire safe ernough;
I didn’t know.”
“What war bringin’ you into the kentry?” Morgan
asked, as they walked toward the cabin.
“My caballo, when I warn’t walkin’. You're trap-
pin’ round hyar?”’
“Been trappin’ round hyar a long time,” said Mor-
gan.
~ “Thet’s what I war thinkin’ o’ doin’ myself, and war

‘lookin’ fer er good trappin’ ground. But sense you're
hyar ahead o’ me, I’ll haf to git furder upstream, I

. reckon.” - :

: Morgan did not like that; a trapper upstream might

-® see the negro, when he made his pony trips and canoe

voyages. fy :

. “Waal, ye cain’t go on until mornin’,” he said, “‘so
come in, and help yerself to anything I got. But I be-
lieve I ain’t heerd yer name yit. Mine is Morgan—
Nat Morgan.”

-Nomad’s mind searched for a name.
“Mine’s Bill Blazer,” he declared.
“Frum Ogallala?”
“runt everywhar ; I jes’ happened ter tech Ogallala
last.”
When they went inside they smoked and _ talked.
Nomad’s eyes took in his surroundings.. And his nose
took in whisky fumes. : :

~ As if he suspected this, and to cover them up, Mor-
gan produced his whisky bottle.

“On’y fer snake bite,” said Nomad; “an’ then I
gin’rally put et on ter ther bite, ‘stead o’ into my stum-
mick,” )
~ He heard Morgan’s story of his life—wholly im-

Saar,

Bild, STORIES, II
aginary, And told the story of his own life, which was
also wholly imaginary.

Still studying Morgan, he took supper with him, and,

not satisfied, decided to stay all night, when Morgan —

pressed him to do so.

~ Shown to the upper room, reached by ladder and

trapdoor, Nomad looked about him, when Morgan had
departed.

There was a narrow bed, and there had been two
skin cots on the floor, which Morgan had folded up
and poked into a corner, and there were two chairs, if
the home-made contrivances doing duty as such may
be called chairs. The walls were bare, and the’ floor
was uncarpeted.

The thing that Nomad rebelled against mentally was
that the room had no window. ‘True, there was a sub-

‘stitute, at the head of the little bed—a square hole, to

let in air, this hole being grated with iron bars. —

“T ooks like er jail,’ said Nomad, examining the
bars, “and yer uncle jes’ natcherly hates ther thought
o’ strained air, whether et comes through bars like
them, er moskeeter nettin’.”

- He stepped to the trapdgor, lifted it, and called down
to his host.

“Whyever aire them bars?’ he demanded.

“Oh, on the winger?” said Morgan.

“Ts et a winder?”

“Thar has been times,” said Morgan, stepping under
the opening, ‘when wild cats has clim’ the notched
cottonwood poles at ther corner thar an’ got inter thet
upper room, and so I set in them bars. You kin rest
certain thet no wild cats kin git at ye.”

“T reckon I'll jes’ leave this hyar trapdoor open,
then,” said Nomad, “so’s to pull the strained air on
through, an’ make breathin’ healthier. Tm er crank
fer pure air an’ plenty; comes 0° my beastly. habit 0’
sleepin’ outdoors ’most all ther time.”

Leaving the trapdoor open, he retreated to the cot
by the barred square hole, and looked round, by aid

=

of the feeble starlight that came in. Morgan had re-_

moved the candle with which he had shown his guest
to this hole under the roof.
“Rf T couldn’t give a man more decenter quarters

ter sling his blanket in than this,” Nomad erumbled,

“T’d sleep him out in the front yard.”
Under ordinary conditions the old trapper would

~ have refused to stay in the room, but now he deter-

mined to forego his own desires, his suspicions against
Morgan having been violently excited by this act of
placing him in that room looking so like a prison.
', After quietly testing'the bars and discovering that
they were set solidly in the very wall itself, and think-
ing the matter over, he made a rather noisy pretense of
going to bed. |
But he had not removed his clothing, and he lay
wide awake, with a hand on his revolver beside him.
“This hyar Morgan i” plum’ crooked, and I'd like
him ter show his hand. Them two innercents thet 1
follered frum close ter Ogallala come right hyar, arr

they didn’t go erway, so fur as I can see; yit they ain't.

ff

- -

 
 

so

ter be seen, though their caballos aire in théstable. I
went down ther way Morgan said, and found he had
lied’ erbout et; wa’n't no tracks of ‘em down thar. So
what's ther meanin’?” me

At intervals he snored softly, to make Morgan think
he had fallen asleep. a

But nothing happened, except that finally Morgan
extinguished his light, and seemed to have retired to
the one bed in the lower room.

Fifteen minutes after that Morgan’s snore came up
to the watchful borderman, ‘

“Breathin’ through his nose like er chokin’ pig; won-
der ef et is fer my benefit?”

But Morgan seemed to have fallen asleep; at the end
of an hour he had not stirred, and that choking snore
went on at intervals. i

“I reckon I has got a plum’ onhealthy imagination,
thet sees an’ hears things when thar ain’t none round.
_ Buffler says thet is why I sees whiskizoos now and
then, an’ he don’t; an’ bercause of et he makes out thar
ain't no whiskizoos, when I knows better, havin’ seen
fem? m =

His thoughts turned to the Indian tracks he had dis-
covered down by the willows, and to other Indian
tracks he had seen on the way. Pes

He recalled the red arrow fourid beside the river;
placed there by Buffalo Killer Sioux to notify Indians
of other tribes passing up and down the stream that
an Indian war against the white men impended. No-
mad had destroyed the arrow.

But, most of all, he worried over the fact that he
had not found the young man and his sister whom he
had trailed so far. He had intended to induce them to
make haste for Ogallala, if he could.

When another hour had passed without anything
doing, Nomad’s imaginative fire burned itself out, and
he began to feel foolish over his fears, and sleepy.

Dropping into a doze, he awoke with a start, sure’
he had heard the ladder creak; almost before he knew
it he was sitting bolt upright in bed, with his revolver
trained on the trapdoor.

“Gallopin’ gallinippers, war thet imagination, too?”

Sweat had broken out on his body.

For five minutes he sat staring at the hole in the
floor, which was now but a black spot, then, hearing
nothing, he got out of bed softly and slipped over to
the hole;

But the room below was so dark that when he looked
down he could see nothing. He tried to fancy he be-
held a man clinging to the ladder, but he feared to
speak to him, lest he should find himself mistaken, and
at last crept back to the bed.

“This sing’lar imagination thet I harbors under my
headpiece is shore workin’ overtime ter-night,”’ he
grumbled, as he disposed himself on the cot. “I war
jes’ dreamin’, and skeered miyself inter a fit. Fer an
ole man thet has shuck hands wi’ danger as much as I
shas et is plum’ reedic’lus. Et’s proof thet old age is
_berginnin’ ter tell on me, an’ I'd better hive up in er

‘THE BUFFALO

BILL, STORIES.
town hyarafter, whar sneak thieves an’ mangy dawegs
is all ye need ter be afraid of.”
Nevertheless, he remained awake another hour.
Ashamed of his fears, he at last fell asleep, and slept
soundly, |

 

CHAPTER (YV,
THE PICTURE IN THE MIRAGE.

Pawnee Bill was telling the story of the Black Chief
——-what he knew of it—while they followed the trai]
left by Hide-rack, as it wound through the soft ground
beside the muddy waters of the Upper Missouri,

Old Nomad had been delegated to investigate the
tracks of two horses that had gone in this direction,
Expected to return soon to the party, he had been
gone so long now that his friends had grown alarmed,
had backttracked to connect with his trail, and were
now tracing it out, “

It could be seen that he was sticking, so far, to the
trail left by the two horses.

Of the riders of those horses, there had been some-
thing singular. Jack Brandon and his sister werg,gup-
posed to have seen left behind at Ogallala, after their
request to be made members of Buffalo Bill’s party had
been turned down, for reasons that seemed adequate.

Yet Little Cayuse had seen two cowboys, whose
faces, he said, were those of Brandon and his sister,
riding beside the Missouri, and heading into Sioux
territory. Cayuse had been sprawled in some willows,
and they had passed so close to him that he had heard
them talking, though he had not understood what was

_ Said.

As if to prove that the Piute was right in his asser-
tion, in following up the tracks he pointed out a hand-
kerchief had been found, of a kind that would never
have been used by a cowboy; it was small, with a lace
edge, and had in a corner the initials, L, B.

“Louise Brandon,” interpreted the scout, when he
saw the initials.

In addition, at a spring where the two “cowboys”
had stopped, boot tracks in the soil showed that the
wearer had a foot so small that it could hardly have
belonged to a man of the cowboy type.

So Nomad had been deputed to investigate.

To all appearances he was still investigating; yet
he had been so long about it that his friends were also
now investigating—to learn why he tarried.

Still, they had no great fears for Nomad; he was
usually abundantly able to take care of himself under
all circumstances. They wanted to know what he had
done, or discovered, before they pushed on toward

the village of the Buffalo Killers, which was their
destination. -

As said, Pawnee Bill was telling what he knew about

the Black Chief, while they trailed along in the wake
of old Nomad. ‘

“Whether he is a negro, or just a very dark Indian,

is something I don’t know,” he confessed, “and the

 

  

 

  
      

 

 

    
 

—no white man. The Buffalo Killers have kept to
themselves pretty well, and, as they haven't come re-
cently into collision with the whites, they have , Peep
pretty much let alone.

“But this is what 1 heard: He appeared among the
Buffalo Killer Sioux a number of years ago, which
shows that he was not originally one of them. ‘There
was an epidemic of smallpox raging among them when
he came, and he had some remedy which he used. Or
it may be that he merely taught them a few common-
sense things—such as stopping them from jumping
into the river when the fever was on them; that had
been their practice, to cool the fever, and, as a result,
they had been dying like poisoned flies. However it
was, he made good; and they liked him so well on ac-
count of it that they made him their chief. The old
chief, and every one in line for his place, had been
killed off by the disease; and, of course, that helped
the new man’s promotion.

“Another thing I heard is that he has always urged
peace with the white men; but recently he has been
sick, and a young chief has taken the reins of power,
as a result of which this present trouble has been
kicked up.”

“Anodder t’ing—vot I heardt,” said the baron, “‘iss
dot dhis Plack Chief he tond’t sday at home so very
mooch; he iss go avay py himselluf, hoondt'ing unt
fishing unt der likes. Budt I tond’t know oof idt is so.”’

“T’m confessing,” said Pawnee, “that I don’t know
if any of it is so; those who were good enough to pour
this narrative in my shell-pink ears were strong on
fancy and shy of fact; I discovered that. Tie had
heard it of some Indians, who had heard it of other
. Indians, and they had heard it of still other Indians.
So, I have my doubts if there is a lack Chief.”

‘“Vare dare iss some schmoke dare iss chin’raliy

some fires,’ urged the baron.

fee there is a Black Chief he is probably only an
Indian with a darker complexion than is usually seen,”
was the guess of Buffalo Bill. “I have seen pure-
blooded Indians who were nearly as black as negroes.”

“But not often among the 1OUX, necarnis, , said
Pawnee.

“No; generally in the Southwest—-A aches, or ie
Indians down that way. 1 think when*we find this
Black Chief there will be no mystery about him.”

‘The trail they followed brought them up the slope
of a hill, and when they gained the top they beheld
Morgan’s cabin, nestling beside the river.

_ “Hello!” said the great scout, pulling in Bear Paw
‘suddenly ; “I had no idea there was a house here.”

“Built there by some trapper, who didn’t want his
Indian. neighbors to know he was occupying that beauty
spot,’ guessed Pawnee; “these hills, and the high wil-
_lows on each side, make the finest screen you can think
about.”

4 ‘“‘He iss gone avay, iss my guessing,” commented the
| baron, for.the door of the cabin was closed, and the
_ one window was down. 4

g

 

) THE BUFFALO

strange thing about him is that no one seems to know

  

ey i

  

BL Choke.

Buffalo Bill's searching eyes wandered to the stable.
The stable door was closed. ,
‘“There’s a horse in there,’ he said, :
Through the small square, serving as a stable win-
dow, he had seen the flicking of a horse’s tail.

So they rode to the stable first, with their eyes
fixed on the house, too.

Reining up by the stable window, Pawnee looked in;
then he whistled an exclamation.

“Old Hide-rack,” he said, “and some other caballos”
doing the friendly act here together; all three gating
out of one manger,’

When he had “looked closer he called to Coca

“Slip your eyes over those caballos beyond Hide-
rack,’ he requested, “‘and tell me if you ever saw them
before.”

One look was enough,

“Cowboys’ caballos,” he said.

They rode on to the little cabin and called before the
door,

When no one answered Buffalo Bill swung down
and hammered on it with his knuckles, but he got no
response. ,

“Not at home,” he said.

He glanced about, and at the ground under his feet,
where the grass had been trodden out, Then he looked
farther along. 2

“Moccasin tracks here,” he pointed out; “still

Little Cayuse dived from the back of Navi, and be-
gan to investigate the moccasin tracks; they led him
round the corner of the cabin and toward the river.

 

“Being in Sioux country, with the war talk we've |

heard,’ said Pawnee, “makes us shy, when we see moc-
casin tracks ; yet we've no ground for it here—yet.”

“None at all,” the scout assented.

‘They remained by the cabin door, talking, while the
owe over the moccasin tracks, which took him
fifteen minutes or more,

“Teap plenty tracks,”
back; “many Sioux,”

A dozen Sioux, he believed, had been at the cabin,
and liad gone away by boat; he had seen where the
keel of the boat had cut the sand. Other Sioux, as
many more, had been down in the willows, and those
Sioux had been mounted, for on the banks higher up
there were tracks of caballos.

He had found no tracks made by Nomad, and none
nade by the riders of the two bronchos in the stable
now with Hide-rack.. But he had found, down where
the boat had been, tracks of two white men.

Buffalo Bill, with Pawnee and the baron, went down
there, to look at those tracks. Apparently the men who

he reported when he came

had left them had accompanied the Indians in the —

canoe, though this was not certain, as marks of another —
boat’s keel were found on the other side of the cabin.

. Buffalo Bill looked.Jong and attentively at one set
of tracks. Then he spoke to Pawnee Bill and called the

attention of Cayuse.

“Those were made by a white man’s ibe but 1 was
a white man standing in the shoes at the time?”

    
    
  

  

  
  

 
    

“Tdt sss meppyso peen an Inchun,. huh?” asked the
baron:

“Not an Indian, and not a white man,’ A id the
scout.

“Himmel! Vot iss?”

“T think a negro stood in those shoes. Ifa white

man, or an Indian, he had a flat foot, like a negro’s;
there was no arch to his instep, and his flat foot had
flattened out the shoe.”

“You're right about that, necarnis,’
mitted.

~ Cayuse began to search for more of those peculiar
shoe tracks and found them, at the other corner of
the cabin, where the keel of the other boat had scraped
the sand.

“Still, we don’t get on,” said Pawnee. “I know
you're thinking of the Black Chief, just as I am; but
one swallow doesn’t make a summer. Sometimes,
though,” he added, “if it’s the right kind of a swallow
it may make a man drunk, and I admit that ’'m begin-
ning to be dizzy.”

“Oldt Nomadt he iss peen here,” said the baron, “unt
now he iss nit. Dose edder beople also-o unt likevise:

. Unt so der Inchuns. Der gonclusion vot I am gon-
cluding iss dot der Inchuns haf cabtured all oof dhem
unt haf gone avay mit em. Oof nodt, vot?”

“Before we do any more concluding,” said the scout,
“‘we'd better look inside the house.”

Usually, in the borderland of the West, at the time
of this story, it was the custom to leave a(house un-
locked when the occupant was out, so that any one
passing, in need of food or shelter, might be able to
enter readily and help himself.

But Morgan’s cabin was locked.

The door was easily forced, however, and the cabin
was entered, the scout and his companior 3 feeling now
justified in making this invasion in search of light.

The interior showed no such confusion as could have
been expected if Indians had attacked and dragged off
the occupants, though it was untidy enough.

Attracted by the long box by the wall, Buffalo Bill
lifted the lid, and uttered an exclamation.

“Jumping cats,” he said, as he looked at the oe
effigy, “what is this?”

“Himmel!” gasped the German, when he foot a
look. ““Vhen I vake oop in my sleeb I shall now be
ridting der nighdtmare.”

Little Cayuse, after flinging it a glance, bolted for.
the open door, and got outside.as quickly as he could.

mie gambling nothing to something that the owner
of this shack made it and thought he could use it to
scare Indians with,”’ was Pawnee’s guess.

As the box held nothing else, they did not look
further there, but placed the hideous Be back in it,
and closed down the lid.

“Mit it oudt oof sighdt T am fing petter, the
baron admitted; “I couldt scare myselluf avay py yoost
looking at idt.”’

“Now for the upstairs,”

’ Pawnee ad-

said the scout, when the

lower room had been searched.

   

14 : oo THE BUFFALO

x

BILL STORIES. :

Da bre nani by the narrow ladder-and the trapdoor
to the room above, finding it a tiny place, with only a
barred hole in the wall admitting light and air. It held
a low bed, and some skin cots on the floor By the walls,
with two chairs and a few other things.

’ This upper room seemed an unfruitful field, and
they did not tarry in it long.

Having searched the house, they closed the door
behind thera, and went out to the stable, which they
looked over thoroughly.

Hide-rack whinnied ce recognition, and received
their attention.

“No one in the house, no one in the stable; and In-
dians have been here,” said Pawnee; “still, ee is no
indication that the Indians did any, damage, or carried

any one off. It begins to look to the man up the tree

as if Nomad had gone away on foot to search for some
trail, or something of the kind, and hadn’t got back.
Somebody else make a guess; I don’t want the mono-
poly.’

‘They made all sorts of guesses as they icupied and
started off for the river bottoms below the cabin, where
the Sioux moccasin tracks were reported thickest.

As they went they half circled, and came_out on
top of the ridge, where they had before them, stretch-
ing southward, a level plain whose horizon was
bounded only by distance.

Here were tracks, and they dismipumed to study
them.

The time was early forenoon, the air was still and
codl, the horizon limitless as the sea; but afar off on
the plains were misty effects, like heat shimmers, where
blue lakelets came into existerice and vanished again,
the effects oP mirage. - .

Suddenly Buffalo Bill, glancing off over the plains,
uttered an exclamation.

“Look!” he said.

When they looked they saw an island assume shape
in one of the lakelets and men moving there, all cloud-
like and strange; then a picture showed, like a tableau.

The picture became a moving one, with men rushing
to and fro.

“Inchuns!”? gaspéd the baron.

“Sioux,” said the scout. :

Vea 2. Gite man!” cried Pawnee; “a white man
—and, yes—look again, necarnis—old ‘Nomad !”

The blue- distance blurred like a pictured canvas

‘moved by a wind, then settled again, and cleared, so

that everything stood out distinetly. There could be
no doubting the evidence of a eyesight.

Plainly seen in the miragé were the Sioux, dancing
round old Nomad.

“Himmel! the baron gasped.

Buffalo Bill looked at the stn, at the sky, held up a
moistened forefinger, to test the direction of the wind;
then looked again at the mirage.

‘Where do. you say that thing j is happening, Paw-
nee?’’ he asked.

66
Vare ve are seeing idt,” shee the baron.

“Not necessarily, for we are not seeing the thing

  

 

   
 
  
   

loor
oye
ield
lls,

and

oor
1ey

ved

Ay ae Wa

 

 

 

Veet hae only / a mirrored itefléstion of the real

P. thine.”

“Vedt idt iss habbening,”
a-tremble. as :

“Not a doubt of that, Schnitz,” admitted. Pawnee;
“the Sioux have got old Nomad, so it’s useless to
search for his trail here any longer. We can’t under-
stand it right now—but that is the fact.”

“Unt ve are a helblessness righdt here!’’

said the German, his voice

 

CHAPTER VI.
THE BARON AND THE EFFIGY.

The mirage lasted but a minute or so, then it faded
away, and only the blank horizon stared back at them.

The anxiety of Buffalo Bill and his friends led them
to desire instant action; yet, being in a quandary, they
hesitated.

Buffalo Bill made the decision at last.

“As we can't tell where that took place,” he said; “I

- think we had better ride hard in the direction in which

we saw it, for often a mirage, out here, is merely a

“hazy-appearing view of something happening right at

that point. I have often seen trees thrown up, as it
were, in that way, and cattle, and the like, and found
out that they were right at the spot where they seemed
to be. In such cases I suppose I didn’t see true mirages

—not in the usual sense, yet they were reflections ot

actual things, on low- lying air strata just. over them.”
As nothing was to be gained by remaining at the

cabin, apparently, it was determined to set out at once...

“Yet I’m going to ask the baron,” said the scout, “‘to
remain here. That fellow—the occupant of the cabin
—tnay come back, and something may be got out of
Ait ef

The baron wanted to object—he wanted to be in the

_ thundering head of the party galloping to the relief of -

old Nomad; in fact, inaction was the baron’s bane,
yet he subdued this desire.

“My dear baron,” said Pawnee, “I know how you
feel about this, yet I think Cody is right—some one
ought to stay.
Wait: % ;

If they had but known it, Schnitzenhauser was to
have the strangest adventures of them all; in ae cabin

itself, and afterward.

_ “We'll take Hide-rack,” said the scout.
“Right-o !” Pawnee agreed, “We're/going to find

Nomad, and we're going to rescue him, and he will
need Hide-rack.”

The baron watched them gallop out of sight across

the level plains. Then the squatted down before the

door of the cabin, turned his mule loose to graze, and
got out his pipe.

It was a big-bowled, nee stemmed affair, of Ger-
man make, and the baron killed a good deal of time
putting it together, blowing through the stem to make
sure that it would “work,”
and lighting it.

THE BUFFALO.

Into the stem of the pipe, °

‘They also serve, who only stand and

thumbing down his tobacco,
| 7

 

BILL STORIES. : 15

“Ve can serve also somedimes meppyso,”
‘vhen ve schmoke unt vait;
so ve vill yoost schmoke.”

For an hour he smoked and thought, watching the
hills and the lowlands by the river, while Toofer buried
his nose in the grass.

“I am knowing vot Cody vill be doing,” he said,

“oof vhen he arrifes py dot mirage idt iss nodt peen
dhere, he vill go on py der Inchun willage off dose
Sioux, unt I am lefdt here mit ter sack to holdt, I pedt
you. Oh, vell, vot iss der usefulness oof Porpwine
dot trouple?”

Finally growing tired, he unjointed the stent of his
pipe, stowed it in his capacious pocket, along with. his
plethoric bag of tobacco, and went into the cabin, leav-
ing the mule still grazing.

“Tdt iss nodt so hot in here,” he muttered.

He strolled round the cabin, looking at its few Be.
longings, then he took a look at the hideous figure in
the long box by the wall.

“Idt iss enough to skeer der shickens!’’ he said. “Oof
I am an Inchun unt I seen dot, I vouldt be running
yedt.”’

He replaced the effigy, closed ns box, and lonked
further,

Then he went upstairs, oe ioe that room over
again.

When hunger warned him that he needed something
to eat he got food out of his war bag, attached to the
saddle.

Up to that time he had left the saddle and bridle on
the mule, tobe ready for an emergency; but his sym-
pathy for the animal induced him to remove them now.

“You are going to sday close py der capin roundt,”’
he said to the mule, when he had stowed them beside
the cabin door, “so dot oof you vandt me kvick I can
gidt you.”

Occasionally, throughout the long afternoon, the —
baron broke the monotony of his waiting by climbing
to the top of the hill before the cabin and looking off
across the plains, and now and then he tramped round
the cabin and took a survey of the river, as far as he
could see it. .

“Ach, idt iss der lonesomeness!’’ he grumbled.

He had determined to remain in and near the cabin
until dark, when, if by that time Buffalo Bill had not
returned, he meant to camp out in the hills, well be-
yond the cabin, but where he could watch it, to see if
a light appeared i in the window.

With this resolve in mind, he sat down again in the :
ane when the afternoon was well advanced, and then , -
fell asleep, for the day was hot and he felt drowsy.

It was nearly sundown when he awoke.

“Yiminy,” he said, “dit I vake me oop pecause I am
hearing somet’ing, or oddervise?”

The feeling was strong on him that he had heard
voices, so he made his way toward the open door. | |

As soon as he had taken a look he jumped back.

A dozen or more Sioux warriors were in front of —
the cabin and had captured Toofer, and they now

 
  

he gurgled ©.

  
  
   

 

 
   
   
   
 
  
   
 
  
   
   
   
   
 
  
  
    
   
  
   
  
    
 
   
  
  
  
    
   
   
   
  
    
  
  
   

ep

safe already yedt! Meppyso der man vot vaidts unt

re ; THE BUFFALO

barred his way, so that he could not get out without

being seen by them, and a foot race with a bullet was
not to the baron’s liking. Likewise he had no desire
for a fight with that many armed redskins.

Looking round like a trapped rat, he saw the long
hox by the wall. . Oe:

His examinations of the cabin had informed him
that the front door and window offered the only meth-
ods of exit. ;

_ “Idt iss der box in for me,” he whispered. “Oof
dhey come in unt oben idt I vill yoost push oop dot

veller vot iss in der box, unt der Inchuns vill be run->

ning like some houses on fire.”

It seemed so brilliant an idea that the baron could
not repress a chuckle, in spite of the fright into which
he had been thrown.

.. So he opened the box, threw himself heavily down
on the effigy, and drew the lid down on top of him.

“Oof I tond’t smodher me Ach!  Vot iss?”

His hurled weight was causing the bottom of the
box to descend with him.

Frightened more by that than he had been by the
Indians, the baron tried to throw back the lid and
scramble out, but his descent was too rapid; he dropped.
through the hole that had opened below him, clutching
in his panic the image that dropped through with him.

As he did so he struck against a cross beam, that
seemed to break him in two; and, still clinging to the
effigy, struck in the water and went under.

When he came up he was swimming and blowing
like.a porpoise, and was in semidarkness.

There was some cork in the image, apparently, for
it was buoyant; a discovery which made the baron
clutch it the tighter as the muddy current, whirling in
an eddy unde# the overhang of the Cabin, pulled him
down again.

As the stream swept him out into the sunlight, which
‘was fading on the face of the river, he heard the In-

 

_ dians in the house.

“Ach!” he sputtered. ‘Oof dhey seen me now I am
a goneness. Unt Toofer—dhey haf got my peautiful

- moo-el!”

He sank into the water and tried to turn the image,
so that if it should be seen by the redskins they would
not guess what it was, and let the current carry him
along. Pa

The Indians, searching first for liquor, did not see

him, and he was soon down by the willows. »
_. Here he drove himself ashore with a few vigorous .

kicks, drew the effigy up beside him, and sank down,

~ ,;with the willows for a screen.

“Dot iss go aheadt oof me,” he panted; “but I am

der man vot schmokes, iss serfing; but der mans vot iss

go to sleeb by his post om—he should gidt idt in der

necks kvick, unt dot iss me, Schnitzenhauser.”
He heard the Indians talking and yelling while they

ransacked for the whisky they supposed was in the

cabin. ee
They kept up the racket until dark, then they rode

YW

-~

 

BILL STORIES.

away, but whether they had secured anything the
watcher in the willows did not know.:*

He was about to crawl out and make his way to the
cabin when he was dissuaded by a canoe, that passed
him, pulled by two men, as he judged by their voices.

“Oof vun he aind’t a nigger he is sbeak like idt. Unt
now he iss singing.”

Though the voice was low, it was rather musical
and the words came to him distinctly:

“Says de coon tuh de possum, ’way up in de ’simmon tree,
‘Misteh Possum, you had betteh come down!’
Says de possum tuh de coon, ‘Is you speakin’ tuh me?

Den you bettéh keep yo’ footses on de groun’,’”
“Oh, shet up!’ the voice of a white man grumbled.
“Thar may be inimies round hyar, fer all we know.”
The singing voice stopped, and the canoe vanished
in the direction of the cabin.
“Idt iss a vhite man unt a nigger,” muttered the
baron; “now vot iss der meanness?”

He heard them getting out of the canoe by the cabin:
and a little later heard them in the cabin. Then a light
flashed from the front window. :

It was apparent that excitement reigned in the cabin.
Fle heard the voices in loud grumbling, and heavy feet
thumping hurriedly over the boards of the floor. One

of the men ran outside and came round the corner

of the cabin.

When he went back, the sounds of excitement con-
tinued.

“I vouldt be gifing all der peer vot I trinkt lasdt
mondth oof I could slib oop by der cabin now unt hear
vot iss der matter, but I am guessing dot dhey are
findting oudt der box iss losdt idtselluf, mit der Inchun
skeerer vot vos in idt; unt dot der door he iss been
busted unt somepoty has been by der house in. Yaw,
idt iss a skinch dot I am right.” ,

Later he heard voices by the river; they seemed to

_be under the overhang; then the dip of a paddle coming

his way.
“Coming to hundt vor der image vot iss missing,’
he thought, and drew himself higher up on the bank.”
The canoe passed him, the occupants talking in a
low grumble, went on down the stream, and later
camne back, the men in the canoe still talking.

Then the light flashed out in the cabin again, and
he heard them rummaging there.

“Dose Inchuns half taken avay mine peautiful
moo-el, so vot iss der uses oof sdaying by dhis blace in
any longer? Oof idt shouldt come to a fighting, mine
bistol iss vet as water, unt mine ca’tritches unt me—
couldn’t do notting. So I am going to gidt me avay
vhile I am aple.”

He waded out into the stream, pushing the image be-
fore him, then he clung to it and floated downstream.

“I vill yoost keeb idt,” he thought, “vor oof I am
meedting oop mit some retskiris meppyso I can make
idt oof some usefulness. Yaw, idt iss a goot itea.
Budt as vor meerting mit Cody again, idt iss nodt a
fine brosbect, vor here I am breaking my drail by,

 

 

sci
idt
Ya

ne
in
th
er
_ willows and burning down on him.

 

ee THE BUFFALO

sdicking to der vater. Yoost der same, I am breaking
idt vor any oddér vellers vot may vandt to voller me.
Yaw, I am having many pright iteas py my prain in.”

 

CHAPTER VIL.
THE BRANDONS AGAIN.

The baron got ashore at last, wet as water could
make him.

There was here another growth of willows, in a bend
of the river, and he baroucd into them, seeking higher
ground. The effigy he carried in his arms as le waded
shoreward.

On the higher ground the baron camped without
fire, in a miserably wet and uncomfortable condition.
More than half his misery was created, however, by the
fact that) he could not smoke; his “water-proof” to-
bacco pouch had not stood up under the hard condi-
tions imposed on it, and in his “water-proof” match

box this matches had been soaked and ruined. And he |

was without food, as well as out of tobacco.

‘“Donnervetter!’ he grumbled. “Der luckiness oof
Schnitzenhauser she haf deserted me. I am here, budt
I tond’t know vare*idt iss, unt I am so soaked mit vet-
ness dot I vond’t needt to trink any vater for a
moondth.”

In the high altitudes of the plains the tie are
nearly always cool, even when the days have been blaz-
ing het, arid & cool night wind now sweeping across
the river set the baron to chattering his teeth and shiv-
ering his rotund body.

“Tdt iss better to be der image,” he reflected, laying
his hand on the effigy; “he iss off a vetness like mine-
selluf, budt he tond’t know idt, so idt iss nodt hurt-
ing him; I am vishing I vos a fishes, or some frogs, or
anything budt. ‘Schnitzenhauser righdt - now, I pedt
you! {22

When he removed his coat and shirt, thinking to dry
them by hanging them on a willow, the night wind
made him hustle into them again.

It was midnight before the baron found relief in
sleep.

He did not awake until the sun was well above the
It had dried his
clothing. But he was still uncomfortable and unhappy,
the very opposite of the optimistic Schnitzenhauser
familiar to the readers of these stories.

His position was perilous on the exposed river bank,
yet he did not want to crawl batk into the ooze beyond
the willows. He stood up and looked about, feelinghis
stiffened clothing contracting and scratching unpleas-
antly.

“T am sheated eferyvare,’’ he grumbled, groaning
with pain. He felt now, even more than before, the
pain of the wrenching blow he had received in his fall
out of the house.’ “My match box unt my topacco box
iss schnides, unt my clodthing idt iss likevise; der man
vot I pought dhis suidt of he iss dell me idt vill nodt

 

BILL. SCORIES. : 17

shrink oof I dake care oof idt, unt now you look at
idt, idt iss too smaller for me py tvice!”

Leaving the still wet image on the ground, he walked
to the top of the nearest rise.

When he poked his Teutonic nose over it he was
given a stunning surprise. A manu rose up behind a
detached willow clump and pointed a revolver at him.

With a squawk the baron dropped back, drew his
revolver, and began to crawfish. .

But he heard the man running, and saw him again _
in a moment at the top of the rise, still pointing the
revolver.

“Halt, there!” cdme the command. ¢

Schnitzenhauser dropped to a sitting posture with
a bump, and lifted his own weapon.

“You pudt idt town,” he said, “unt tond’t make some
more foolishness py me!’

Then he opened his eyes wider in recognition ; he had
seen this man before, in Ogallala.

“Ne are bot knowing us,’ he announced, in a tone
of conviction, “so vot iss der usefulness of shoodt-
ing? I haf seen you pefore.”’

The young man dropped his pistol arm.

“And I have seen you; you are the man they call
Baron Schnitzenhauser !”

“Paron von Schnitzenhauser,”’
rected; “yaw, I am me!”

The young man turned, and beckoned to some one
behind him.

“You are of Cody’s party,” he said\to the baron;

“where is he?’

“Vhen you ask me vot I tond’t know, how can I
say idt?”

“You don’t know where he is? That is bad.”

“You pedt me, I am ackvainted mit dot fact yet
alreadty; he is go avay yesterday, unt he tond’@ come
pack some more dimes; idt iss py der cabin oop der
Titer.

The baron was struggling to get to his knees.

Another figure, clad in cowboy clothing that showed
abundant signs that it had seen a thorough soaking,
appeared on the rise. The baron rubbed his eyes.

“Idt iss your sisder—not a

“Tt is my sister.”

The girl in cowboy clothing came forward. She,
too, swung a revolver, which made her look as war-
like as her brother. By the time she came up to him,
with her brother, the baron was on his feet, ready to
greet them. |

“Ve. vos voller you unt Nomadt,” he explained;

“unt ve tond’t cand’t findt neidher oof you; unt Cody
he iss sdill oudt.”

“Hunting for us?”

“For Nomadt. Der Inchuns haf goppled him in.
Ve tin’ t seen idt, budt ve seen der bicture oof idt.”

* The girl stared.

“In der sky line.” .

He had some difficulty in making ‘them understand ©
that they had seen the capture ot the borderman in a
mirage.

the German cor-

 
  

BUFFALO

‘3 THE

We ie had some startling a biranes experi-
ences,” said Jack Brandon.

_. “Unt my inexberiences haf peen oof der same stuf-
fin’s; | am pooty nigh deadt.”’

“You say you were at that cabin up the river.’

aw ;

“Well, we were, and an attempt was made there to
murder us.’

- He glanced up the river.

ils it safe to talk here?” he asked,

“No blace iss o@f a safeness here, budt oof ve hite
in der villers idt vill be petter, aber idt iss some mud
Danks. iy. 4

“We prefer the mud to danger,” said Brandon.

“N othing can make us look more like frights than
wwe are,’ Louise Brandon added.

“Better to be frights than frightened,”’
Brandon, and started down the slope.

At the edge of the willows he brought up with a
Crys
. What is it?” she asked, startled.

“A What-is-it !”’

Fle had come suddenly on the effigy lying on its back
‘with its goggle eyes staring at the sky.

‘Dot is der life breserfer,” explained the baron;
“tvice idt haf safed my life, vonce vhen I am hiting
py der box in, unt der second dime vhen idt iss my
life breserfer in der vater. Unt idt vill skeer retskins.
Der usefulness oof dot iss vort’ money.”

The girl came up, with the baron, and looked at the
horrible thing.

“I should think it would scare anything,”
clared,

“Yaw; idt iss skeer me, der fairst dime I seen idt.”

‘Where did you get it?” Jack Brandon inquired.

“T h&f saidt py der box oof der cabin in, vhen I fall
t'rough der hole vot iss der pottom oof der box, unt
preak me indo tvice bieces. Ach! I am veeling idt
vyedt,,

He ‘pressed his hands to his rotund stomach.

“T am hidt someting vhen | fall.”

. The brother and sister looked a also inter-
ested.

“You weren't in that little room upstairs?’

“T am py der box in.”

"Let's get down into the bushes, whee we can talk;
this is y

Brandon plunged on without finishing, the girl fol-
lowing him, and the baron came after, carrying the
effigy in his arms.

“T shall name idt Life Breserfer,”
ASS.

“Tell us about it,’ was the invitation, when,
were under cover of the willows.

The baron explained volubly, and finally made them
understand just what had happened to him.

“That house is a death trap,” said Jack Brandon;
“we already knew it, ‘and here is added proof. Now,

added Jack

she de-.

 

he said, “vor idt

co,

\

   

ei. STORIES.

I am going to tell you what happened to my sister
and me.’

“Vaidt dill I dake some looks,” said the baron.

He climbed to the higher ground, looked round, and
came back.

“Der coasting iss clear,’ he announced;
go aheadt mit your dog tail.”

The girl laughed. _

“Dot iss vot Nomadt call idt, vhen he iss sdart oudt
to dell some story. Ach, I am vishing I knowed vare
oldt. Nomadt iss py now !”

“We went to the house up there and met a man who
said his name was Morgan. He let us put our animals
in his stable, and he gave us food and offered us a
place to sleep in. It was a little upstairs room.”

“Yaw, I haf seen idt; idt iss apoudt half as big.”

‘Tt was small, and had for a window only a barred
opening. But as you have seen it I don’t need to ex-
plain about that. We didn’t like to sleep in it, but as
it was the only place the man had to offer, we thought
we would, for we had been sleeping out, and I was
afraid my sister would take cold. So she ‘took the lit-
tle bed, and I curled up on the floor.

“She awoke me soon by a frightened cry. As I
jumped up I saw that the little bed had tilted suddenly,
and she was sliding into a hole that had opened in the
floor. When I Jumped to help her I ‘went into that
hole, too.”’

The girl shuddered and put her hand over de eyes.

“We fell into water, clutching each other, and, of
course, went under, Half of the house, you know,
hangs over the water, and that hole had dropped us

“so you can

‘through into the river.

“Tt would have been the end of us, if I hadn’t been
a good swimmer; at home I am known as the best
swimmer in the country—a regular water dog. So,
when I came up, still holding on to my sister, 1 began

_ to swim. The current caught us, and we were soon

out in the river.

“The stars were shining, but it was dark. It was by
the starlight coming in through the barred window, I
forgot to say, that 1 saw the bed tipping and my sister
falling. I could just make out the outline of the cabin,
and I thought I heard the man in the house run out
of it by way-of the door.

“Then my sister pulled me under, and I had a hard
fight. But I managed to keep her head out of the
water most of the time, and finally I got ashore with
her, on the other side of the river.

“There we hid. And there, after a while, I left her.
Our horses were in the stable, and I was determined

to get them; and I admit that I had murderous cua

against the man who had tried to kill us. ce
“So I went upstream, and started to swim across.

When. I was near the cabin a canoe came up and was
right on top of me almost before I knew it was there.

Whoever was in it was dipping:a soft paddle.
“Believing it was the scoundrel who had ee to kill

w

9

 

    

      
      
 

 

Na

ie PURFALO

tis, I tried to get at him; I caught hold of the gunwale
of the boat and shot him into the water and made a
grab for him as he went down. I got him by a leg,
and we had a fight right there in the water; but he got
away and got back to his canoe. But I had discov-
ered that he was not Morgan, but a negro, and I let
him go.

“After that I swam ashore above the cabin, and
lay there on the bank a good while. I couldn’t tell if
the negro had gone into the cabin, nor if Morgan was
at home. But he had told me he had a negro servant,
so I knew that the chances would be against me if I
tried to get into the cabin and had to tackle both of
them.

“T was about to climb up and go to the stable when
I heard Morgan and the negro talking under the over-
hang of the cabin. I couldn’t understand what they
said, but when they had gone I floated down under that
overharland tried to discover what sort of murder
trap they had there, though I had some ideas along that
line before, as you know. :

“T was under there when the negro came in again
in the canoe, and flashed a torch. He didn’t see me,
for he was looking at something over his head. When
he stood up to look I was tempted to kick the canoe
from under him, but I didn’t, for I wanted to discover
what he was doing there.

“What I discovered—and that was by what he said.
rather than by what I saw—was that under the hole
which had dropped my sister and me into the water, a
beam had been in position with some kind of knife or
scythe fixed to it that would cut any one in two that
struck it.”

“Ouch!” whispered the baron. “I am hitting a beam
like dot myselluf, aber idt hadt nodt a knife. Dot iss
vhy I haf got so many bains now. Yaw, Iam as full
oof banes as a vinder.” Budt go aheadt.”

“That beam was out of place, that is why we had
not struck it in our fall. I heard the negro say it must
be fixed right off.”

“Der imbudence oof him!” -

“Morgan tried to kill us—there is no doubt about
it. But—why?”

“Ask me somedings dot haf more oof an easiness.’

“He didn’t know that you were in that box, so

“Budt I knowed idt!”

“So we can't say that he planned 6 kill you; he
didn’t even know that you and your pards were at the
house. But he did deliberately plan to kill my sister
and me.”

“Unt Nomadt, I pedt you!
broof oof dot yidt.”

“I couldn’t get our horses, for Morgan and the
negro were both in fhe stable when I got out of the
river again. And as I had been so long away from my
sister I gave it up.’ @ |

“Unt you hater't peen py der capin since?”

“No. But I intended to make a try again to get our
horses to-day. We saw Indians up there yesterday.

39

 

Aber ve haf nodt der

‘firmly, ©

   

DIP oS PORES: 19
Of course, if they’re still around, we won't go near
the place.”

The baron went up to the hieher ground and took
another look.

“Ve haf to keeb some vatches,” he said.

“What do you intend to do?” Brandon asked.

“Gidt me somet’ings to eadt, der fairst ting, oof I
can, unt vatch vor der caming oof Cody unt der
odders, unt also-o keeb me oudt oof sighdt.”

He pondered, and found it hard work to think with-
out his customary allowance of tobacco. :

“You haf come oudt-here to findt oudt apoudt your
fader?”

“Ses: and because Gone wouldn’t let us aay
him we came alone.’ -

The barom shook his head.

“Der foolishness oof idt iss past celionae: Der
Inchuns vill gidt you, unt dhey vill gedt your sisder—
which iss vorse. Petter you go hide der pack dracks
right avay kvick.”

“The Indians are not on the warpath—we learned
that while we were in Ogallala; they are merely danc-

“ing in preparation for their annual hurting.’

‘‘Somepoty toldt you dot?”

“A man in Ogallala; he said he was sure of it, and
that Cody ought to know it was so. In fact, he thought
Cody did know it, but felt that he had to go out, and
earn his government pay.”

‘Mota tie!”

“So we catne,” said Jack Brandon, setting his jaws
‘and here we are!”

‘Der fools are nodt all deadt' yedt—huh? Oxcuse
me vor blain sbeaking. Budt two oof ’em iss going to
be deadt, oof dhey tond’t gidt pack to Ogallala.”’

“And you?”

“Dot iss tifferendt; dot man say ] am here vor my
gofernmendt bay—unt I haf to earn idt. Yaw; I haf
peen earning idt. I pedt you! Unt I vill earn idt

39

again some more pefore dhis pitzness iss ofer. Dot
iss der troot’.”
“We have been thinking,” said Brandon, “that now

that we are out in this section Buffalo Bill would be
willing to have us join him for protection, so that we
could get a look-in on the Indian village, and make
some investigations. As I told Cody, when I-talked
with him in Ogallala, we have had information lead-
ing us to believe that our father was not killed out
here—did not die out here—but fell into the hands
of the Buffalo Killer Sioux. We intend to find out
about that.” nee
“Dot vos a long dimes ago,” urged the baron. “Do-
you tink he vould still py dhis dime be mit dhem In-
chuns?”’
“We intend to find out, I said.” °

“Vhen you know dot you vill be getting rely to...
go deadt, vare you vill know notting.”

But the Brandons would not be persuaded

“All righdt,” said the baron. “Budt oof you are
killed, tond’t blame me vor idt aftervard.”

  
CHAPTER VITL
THE CAPTURE OF THE BRANDONS,

While they waited, uncertain what to do, but still
continuing their talk, the baron investigated the inner
workings of the effigy.

tle had been astonished to find a lied in its mouth,
for one thing, and was looking farthét. Then he dis-
covered that a rubber tube ran inside the right leg,
from the foot through the body, and connected with
thé® whistle.
image sent forth a startling blast.

The baron dropped the effigy and rolled backward,

“Yumpin’ yack rappits !” he panted. ’ “Dit you
heardt dot?”

“I’m afraidit was heard by some one who oughtn’t
to have heard Me saad Jack Brandon gravely. ‘Don’t
do it again.”

“Me? Dot vos nodt me,

“Don’t blow into the tube again;
mean,”

“You pedt me nodt.’”’

He looked at the effigy, ee on its back in the
willows.

“That would be a good scarecrow for a corn field, -
the girl observed.

Tdt vos him!’
that’s what I

“A scare Inchun vor der brairie—iss idt nodt? Unt

dot iss petter.”

He renewed his investigations and found wires in-
side the coat sleeves and up the legs; but he did not
understand what they were to be used for.

Jack Brandon visited the rise again, and, coming
back, reported that nothing was doing, |

He had hardly done so, however, when the baron,
looking out on the river, sighted the canoe.

“In derswrong tirection you haf peen looking,” he
whispered, and pointed to it.

The canoe held two men—Morgan and the negro;
and, as they paddled downstream, they looked at the
shores.

To keep from being seen the Brandons and the baron
_ crouched in the willows; but they could see the canoe
and its occupants. Also, when the canoe drew near
they could hear the men talking.

The negro was hilarious and wanted to sing, and it

was apparent that he had been drinking. Morgan
reprimanded him and warned him of danger. The
white man was in an angry and belligerent mood and
was berating the Indians, who had come to his cabin
- and stolen his whisky, so it appeared.
" “Vhey got ever’ one o’ them cases in the fust cache
inside the house,” he said,
Moloch. ‘That; heats me, for ’d swore nary Injun
in a hundred miles would tech him, er go nigh him;
so long’s he was gyardin’ the cabin I felt safe to go off
and leave it. But they even took him.”

“Ole Molick mus’ ’a’ been drinkin’, too, boss,” said

the negro, laughing; dat s why he done los’ his grip.
Ki-yi!”

 

THE BUFFALO

When the baron blew into this tube the.

‘snake what had two tails.

“and they took away ole

‘BIL STORIES.

 

“Shet up, you fool!”
“When dey lif? ole Molick out’n de box an’ doan’

find no whisky bottles un’er him, hit des make ’em so

mad dey knock de bottom out’n de box. Ki-yi!’

_ “T loosened: that bottom myself: the day after we
found out the cross beam under the upstairs room had
been moved; fer I thought mebbyso, if I got into a.

fight with any one, I might want to pitch him an’ me

into the box and drap through into the river.” -
“Maybe ole Molick he done drap th’ough heself?’”
“He didn’t have weight enough to push that bottom

down. Still, some red might have pushed him through

while pokin’ in the box hunting fer whisky. But how ~

a red ever got up courage enough to look into that
box, to say nothin’ 9’ pokin’ round in it, after seein’
him in it, gits me.’

“He found dat courage in one o’ dem whisky bee
tles, boss. Ki-yi!’

“That's whar you found your present fepiitaess
too,”

“Yaas, boss; I reckon dat so. Yo’ kin fin’ mos’ any-
thing in one 0’ dem bottles. When you done drink
up de whisky in ‘em you can see mos’ anything, too.
One time I seen an Injun wid two heads, an’ a green
Ki-yi!l’”

“Don’t talk so loud,”

“T ain’t; I’m des laffin’.”
“Then don’t laff so loud,”
“Kin I sing?”

He seathen without permission:

tee up in de char’yut, sooner in de mawning;
Ride up in de char’ yut, sooner in de mawning;
~ Ride up in de char’yut, sooner in de mawning ;
I hope Pll jine de band.”

“You'll jine the band o’ dead ones,” Morgan flung
at him, “if you don’t quit your.foolishness right off.”
“Las’ time I was in town I was tol’ I was a dead

£ 17?

one, fo’ staying out hyuh. Ki-yi!
He seemed to become serious.

“Tell yo’ what, boss; if. dem Injuns ain ‘t drunk all
de whisky up befo’ now I can go out an’ git it—what’s -

remainin’ of it. Dent redskins does whatever I tells
“em tuh do—you know it, an’ I can git it,”

“And fall into the hands of Buffalo Bill's crowd!

Besides, you couldn’ t do it. Set the Buffler Killers to

dancing, and git °em drunk, and nobody could do any-

thing with ‘em; they’re wild men.”
“Dey doan’ es me none, boss; dey sho doan’t.”’

The canoe drifted past the allie and round a
bend, and the voices could no longer be heard.

“What do you think of that?’ Jack Brandon asked,
\in a whisper.

“What they said seetns to make some things clearer,”

declared the girl.

The baron tiptoed, out of the, willows and up the
rise.

“I tond’t can seen ’em no longer,”
turning. ‘‘So I now haf an itea.

 

 

he reported, r re,
Mine Tooter moo-el

  

     
    
   

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effig

not
 

THE BUFFALO

is pack by dot staple in, unt also-o der capallos vot pe-
longs py you. Vot iss to keeb us vrom going unt git-
ting dhem.”

“It's a good idea,” assented Brandon, ‘“‘and we'll act
on it right now, while they're away.”

“Unt py now,” added the baron, “Cody he may be’
caming again, unt I am vandting to seen him.”

But when they had left the willows, passed the first
low rise, and mounted to the higher ground, their deci-
sion changed. A band’of Indians was seen riding
from northward toward the river.

“Oudt oof sighdt, oudt oof mindt,” said the baron,
and sprinted back to the willows. “Me—I am nodt
avraidt oof Inchuns,” he explained, when the Bran-
dons joined him, “budt, yoost der sameness, vhen my
bistol is rusdy unt mine ca’tritches has peen vetted by
der rifer vater, I tink idt iss a viseness dot dhey tond’t
meedt me.’

For an hour they remained concealed in the willows,
with occasional brief visits to the hilltop to see what
the Sioux were doing.

Then it was discovered that the band of Sioux was
moving up the river, on the other side.

“Perhaps they want more whisky,” surmised Bran-
don, “and will make another search of the cabin; from
what we heard I judge, too, that there is more there.”

The Indians, intoxicated, were hilarious; they yelled
with much enthusiasm, like boisterous youngsters out
for a holiday, and they fired off pistols, wasting much
powder and lead, Now and then some of them ran
races with their ponies.

Not until they were quite near did the concealed
party discover that the negro was with them, appar-
ently leading them, and as noisy as the noisiest. He
had mounted a mustang—there was a string of led
animals—and looked strangely out of place in the
midst of the yelling red warriors.

The Indians went on toward the cabin, and swam
their animals across the river when they came up to it,

“Mine Toofer moo-el!” cried the baron. “Oof a ret-
skin pudts his handts on you I am hobing dot you vill
stuff der kickin’s oudt os him so kvick it vill make his
headt svim,”’ .

Anxiety about Toofer made him determine to get
closer to the cabin.

“Meppyso I cand’t do somedings,”’ he admitted, ‘
I am tinking dot I cand’t; budt—yoost der same !”

He inspected his Bigied revolver and the water-
soaked cartridges.

“Der bistol he iss in vorking ordhers,”’ he said; “unt
oof der vetness oof der rifer vater dit nodt gidt to der
bowder in der ca’tritches idt iss all righdt. You vill
seen me vhen I came again. 50, goot-pye, unt look a
| liddle oudt for yoursellefs.”

He climbed the bank and Mia ppc: taking the
efigy with him.

Again the baron was playing in luck, when he did
not know it.

‘unt

 

e

BILL STORIES. ai

He spent an hour’s time out in the hills beyond the
cabin, without seeing anything of. Toofer, but hear-
ing the roistering redskins at the cabin, and was
back-tracking, in a disgusted frame of mind, when he
heard sudden shooting in the direction of the willows.

“Vot iss!’ he whispered, and slid to the top of the
nearest knoll.

Lying flat there, and (aotins down at the willows,
he discovered that another band of Sioux, advancing
up the river on his side, had made a descent into the
willows, and had captured Jack and Louise Brandon.

“Dot iss a shame!” he panted.

Evidently he and the Brandons had left tracks in
going to and from the hilltop, and those tracks had
been seen by the keen-eyed redskins.

As far as he could determine at that distance, though |
there had been shooting, no one had been hurt.

This second band of Buffalo Killer Sioux came on )
toward the cabin_with their prisoners, and passed so
close to the concealed baron that he could clearly see
the painted faces of the braves and the pale features

of the prisoners.

“Pravery iss a goot t’ing,”’ he muttered, ‘‘budt some-
dimes idt iss yoost anodder name vor gommitting sui-
cite. Oof dot poy unt girl hadt paidt addention to der
adwice off Cody idt vouldt nodt have peen habbening
now. Dose retskins haf var baint py dheir faces on,
unt idt iss mean trouple for der brisoners. Budt vot
can I do, vhen I am here py my lonesomeness ?””

From his hidden position, but ready to retreat, the
baron watched the Indians at the cabin.

The negro had shown them the second whisky cache,
apparently ; at any rate, their hilariousness took on the
character of a whisky debauch. Some of them became
maudlin and helpless, and all were noisy.

When they swam their mustangs across the river,
the helpless Indians were roped to the mustangs; those
not able to sit up being tied flat to the backs of the
animals,

- The baron watched them get across and saw them
ride away northward,

“Going to der willage,’
Idt iss a padt pitzness.”

He now went in search of Toofer, feeling that the
coast was clear; but he did not find the mule, and came
at last to the conclusion that the redskins had taken
it, though he had not seen Toofer with the Indian mus-
tangs. '

“Fle iss a vise moo-el; so meppyso he iss hite him-
selluf oudt in der hills.”’

When he could not find Toofer, and Buffalo Bill’s
party could not be seen anywhere on the horizon, the
baron decided to strike out for the village.:

“T vouldt nodt pedt efen der hole in a doughnut
dot mine shances are goot; sdill—

He tightened the belt round his ample waist and got
ready to swim the river, the effigy in his arms.

After all, there was heroic stuff in the baron,

he interpreted. “Himmel!

 

 

   

 
THE BUFFALO

CHAPTER 1x.

ON THE BARON’ S TRAIL.

When Buffalo Bill’s party returned to Morgan's
cabin, the baron and the Indians were gone. >

Evidences of the Indian carousal were multiplied.
The floor had been torn up, the chairs and table broken,
the box by the wall smashed, and broken bottles lay
all round. Over all was a stench of whisky.

- The hole in the floor*which the box had concealed
bie thus disclosed, by its wrecking, led to an exami-
nation of the overhang; and this led to a disclosure of

the trap in the floor of the little room above, through —

which an occupant of the small bed could be'tumbled.
The beam that had been under this was still out of
position, and the scythe-blade knife, which had rested
on it, was gone; but enough was found to reveal the
nature of the death traps that the ingenuity of the oc-
cupant had devised.
They were anxious to lay their hands on Morgan
now, but he was not there, and he could not be located.
They knew that Nomad had not fallen a victim to
the death traps in the house—proof being the mirage
picture; but they feared that the Brandons had been
~ victims.
While they were still searching and ieiucsine: the
familiar braying of the baron’s mule reached them.
They had looked for the mule and the animals of
the Brandons, in the stable, without expecting to find
“them there.
“Heehaw! Heehawick!’’

Running out of the cabin, when they heard that,
they beheld Toofer, on top of the nearest hill, gazing
down at the horses tethered by the door.

“The baron must be near, necarnis,” said Pawnee
joyfully; “for staying together they are regular Sia-
mese twins—the baron and Toofer.” -

When Buffalo Bill called to the mule Toofer came
doywn the hill, and was soon rubbing noses with Bear
Paw and Chick-Chick and the Piute’s pinto.

Little Cayuse scrambled to the top of the hill to
look for the baron.

“No can see!” he called back.

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee went to the top of the hill -

and called; then fired off revolvers. But the baron oe

not appear.

They began to be anxious for the ee S safety,

then,

1m hoping one of those death traps an t get
Schnitz,” remarked Pawnee.
him to leave Toofer!”’

Little Cayuse got busy on the tracks by the house;
but he was presented a perplexing tangle which was
too much for even his clever ability. In ‘the end, down
by the river, he found tracks that he declared were the
baron’s ; but when the pards looked at them they could
not be sure that the Piute was right. The baron made
an unmistakable track, unlike that of ay other mem-

 

BILL’ STORIES.

EE Se singular thing fon

    

ber of the party; but here moccasin tracks were so
thick that certainty was not possible.

Ihe Piute studied the direction, then he swam the
river, and lifted up a whoop on the other side.

When the animals were forced across, with the

baron’s mule, and the tracks found by the Piutd were

inspected, other tracks beside them furnished a new
puzzle. There were the baron’s tracks, sure enough—
barefooted and then with his shoes on—and the ‘Piute
had been right; but the tracks with them—who could
have made those tracks? They were close by a wil-
low.

“The fellow who made those,’ said Pawnee,
“weighed about fifteen pounds, necarnis—at a guess;
and he must have been a dead man! Which shows how
foolish it is, sometimes, to try to reach a conclusion.”

“The effigy!’ said the scout.

“Hoop-a-la! I guess you’vestruck it. We couldn’t

find the thing in the cabin; so we thought it had fallen”

through into the river. The question is: Did the
baron have it with him, and set it up by that willow?
Or had it been there before him—or, perhaps, after
him?”

“1 don't know, I’m sure; but the tracks were made
yesterday—I think. What do you say about it,
Cayuse?” ~

“One sun ago,” said the Piute, testing the Soe ty
of the mud imprints ae his fingers.

“That is my guess,” agreed the scout; “anyway, we
know now that the baron crossed here, ‘and went out
upon the plains, with his toes turned in the direction
of the Sioux village. And as that is also now our
destination, we can do no better than to flutter along
in the same way.”

ihey  fattered, at a rapid gait.

They had not been able to locate the position a
Nomad’s capture by the Sioux; then had abandoned
the attempt. Sure that, unlesé he had been killed he

had been taken to the Sioux village, they were going

there now to rescue him, if he lived, and seek the pun-
ishment of his murderers, if he had fallen.

“We'll find the Brandons there, too,” said Pawnee,
“if they’re still among the living. What I'm wishing
is, that we could get our clutches on that rascal, Mor-
gan; he has been in the whisky business here, inci-
dentally killing any white people who came this way
that he fearetl might make trouble tor Hines Buty
wonder if the reds didn’t capture him, when they
raided his cabin.”

“Perhaps we'll find him a prisoner in the Sioux
village,” the scout conjectured.

For two or three miles out the familiar Missouri
River bluffs of that section extended. They were
irregular hillg, shutting out both front and rear view.

Through them the trail of Indian mustangs passed,
and it was believed the baron had dropped into this
trail and followed it. At any rate, his tracks” could
not be seen, and he had entered it.

   

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THE BUFFALO

They were nearing the end of the hilly region, keep-
ing a close lookout to prevent a surprise, when they
heard startled Indian yells.

“Something’s broke, necarnis,”
ing in Chick-Chick.
“Come this way, pronto,” said the Piute.

The yells and a clatter of pony hoofs were coming
in their direction.

“Down and out of sight,”
don’t want to run into trouble, unless we have to.”

They drew their horses into a ravine between tou-

said Pawnee, oe

} seled hills, and waited.

A few minutes later a band of Buffalo Killer Sioux
tore past, but well out from them, and went flying to-
ward the plains, lashing their mustangs into frenzied
speed.

“Something threw a bad scare into those rascals,’
was the guess of Pawnee Bill. “Il wonder what. it
was?’

\

CHAPTER Xx.
LUCKY SCHNITZENHAUSER.

Baron von Schnitzenhauser, who always proclaimed
himself a lover of excitement and the strenuous life,
had apparently been getting his heart’s desire. And
still he was not happy, because he could not smoke.

To remedy this he spent a-good two hours that day
in drying his tobacco. For a drying table he used his
coat, whfch had long since lost its superfluous moisture,
spreading the coat on the sand, with the tobacco dis-
tributed well over it. The place chosen for this work
was a sunny hollow that nestled bétween Missouri
River bluffs.

Incidentally, while drying his tobacco, bie gave old
Moloch a sunbath. And the old fellow needed: it. Eels
interior was soggy—so soggy that water leaked
through on the baron’s back, when he carried Moloch
there.

Drying the felarce watched by the staring eyes that
seemed to look down on him with peculiar disfavor,
the baron talked: to Moloch, in lieu of another com-

panion on whom he could unload the tale of his woes.

“Oof Nomadt is killed he iss a deadt vun, unt oof
der Prandons haf peen killed, dey are two deadt vuns;
budt Cody—you cand’t kill him! So I am banking on
him, unt on Bawnee. Der soonesdt vay to findt Cody

iss to go vare dare iss a likeliness dot der danger iss

going to be der mosdt, unt dot iss der Inchun willage.
So you unt me iss going dare, yoost so soon as I can
make me some schmoke. JI aind’t had notting to eadts

since der last dime, but you—you are lucky; you tond’t
You can starve unt starve, unt
I enfy you. Yaw.”

i = He stirred the tobacco, sifted it through his Sage
9} and let the sun bake it a while.’

He ii Biaced the joints of his pipe stem in he sun,

haf to eadt notting.
still be so fat as yedt.

BILL STORIES.

the scout ordered; ‘‘we |

 

23

with the bowl by it, and was caper iendis their dry-.
ing at the same time.

‘‘Anodder t’ing vhy ve are going py ee Inchun wil-
lage iss, dot Toofer, I pedt you, iss dare. Unt meppyso
ve can do somet’ ings for dose voolish,young man unt
young voman vot vouldt not sday by dot Ogallala in.”

He up-ended Moloch, shook him, to see if his “‘in-
sides’ were still water soaked; then set him up again,
propped by a scraggy bush.

“You are so hantsome as I am—nit! Idt vouldt gif
me der aboblexy, oof you shouldt look in a looking
glass. Der man vot made you vos suffering vrom der
telirium tremens.”

’ The baron got his tobacco dried, and most of the
moisture out of the interior economy of old Moloch;
then he put his pipe together and enjoyed a smoke.

“Oof I haf goot topacco I tond’t needt anyt’ing to
eadt,” he declared to Moloch; “‘goot topacco is meadt
unt trink, unt peer unt saurkraut, unt all der odder
goot tings. Me—lI am feeling petter! Soon I shall
be feeling fine. Dhen ve are going on.” |

The baron, thus rejuvenating‘himself, did not fail
to keep watch against dangers. Now and then he
twisted round for a look behind him, and he watched
the tops of the hills, and the defiles leading into his
camping place.

At last his pipe dropped out of his mouth, and, with
a low squawk, like a frightened chicken, he threw him-
self forward, flat on fie face; when he rolled over he
was clutching his revolver. Then he squirmed in be-
hind the bush that supported the effigy.

“Inchuns!’’ he panted. ‘“Oddervise dot topacco, vot

_I haf peen deprifed oof enchoying so long, iss make

me see ings. He vos sdick his headt oop py dot

hilldop.”

In his wriggling to get out of. sight the baron
knocked over Moloch, and did not take the trouble to
set the effigy up again. In truth, his discovery so
startled him that for the moment he forgot all about
his belief in the potency of the image to scare off red-
skins.

The Indian head did not appear again on top of the
hill. But about ten minutes later a number of Sioux ©
warriors rose up in the defile before the baron, pre-
pared to rush him.

The baron had been given time to think, by their de-
lay; so when they came at him he lifted Moloch to a
sitting posture before the bush and crouched down be-
hind it. :

Then he let his revolver go; and, still having his
wits about him, he drew up Moloch’s right foot and
blew sharply into the tube set in the bottom of it.
The shrill whistle, so startling in its quality, broke
across the hills.

The baron fired again, wounding one of the charg-
ing Sioux.

Then the whole character of the scene changed, as -

ay yy magic,

®
Ba THE BUFFALO

The fall of the warrior, the cracking reports of the
‘baron’s revolver, the echoing blast from, the whistle,
more than all the sight of old Moloch, threw such a
fright into the warriors that they abandoned their
crafty attempt to capture the white man, and wheeled
in penicky flight. :

Beyond the hill they had left their ponies, in charge
of a couple of braves.

Gaining the ponies, they flung themselves blindly to
their backs, and dashed away, oe the animals
into headlong flight.

The baron stood up, holding aloft the hideous i image,

as he saw them go, and sent after them other shots -

from his revolver.

“Whoob!” he cried, dancing awkwardly.
Breserfer he iss a skinch—he iss a chewel!
la! Iam safed again.”

“Dhis Life
Whoob-a-

_. Once more he blew the whistle - once more he fired
off his revolver; and his yell of joyful triumph awoke
the echoes of the hills.

_ But the scared Sioux were out of sight.

_ “Der scare-Inchun iss der pitzness; he iss der
stuffin’s, you pedt! Oder I tidt nodt hadt him, I vouldt
now be vearing mine scalb on an Inchun’s lance bole.”

He bobbed about in a hilarious two-step, with old
Moloch fer his partner.

When the baron had calmed down sufficiently to le
stock of his position, he concluded that he had better
get out of the open, lest the Indians, recovering from
their fright, might still annex his scalp. So he bur-
rowed into the bushes, lugging the effigy, and came
out on top of one of the bluffs, where he had a fair
view of the great plains lying to the north.

The Sioux had not turned into the plains, but were
following a ravine between the high bluffs, so he did
not at once see them. But, maintaining his place, he
after 4 while caught sight of a, as they rode out
into the open ground.

“Sdill hitting idt oop,” he said, speaking to Moloch.
“Dhey are going home py der air line, mit a sdory
dot vill sedt der oldt vimen to gossibing a-blenty. Der
man vot made you, vor to scare Inchuns, he vos a
chenius! ee

Lugging the i image, the baron descended the bluffs, :

on the north side, and made his way slowly into the
_ trail left by the Sioux mustangs.

: “He had not progressed far in it when he was given
another fright by seeing a small party ride out of the
. hills and come galloping toward him.

“Can I turn dot drick again?’ he questioned, looking

 

 

 

BILL STORIES. oe
j \

_to his revolver, whilé" he shifted Moloch to the other

arm. ‘iOof I tond’t, Iam sdill a deadt man!”

‘But the party that had conte into view) was Buffalo
Bill’s, and the baron was soon rehearsing to the scout
his wonderful story.

 

%

CHAPTER_XI.
PRISONERS OF THE SIOUX,

; Jose along on the back of an Indian pony, to
which he had been lashed, old Nick Nomad came into
touch with the Brandons. ~

Two war parties—that which had captured the bor-
derman, and the one that had raked in the Brandons
—had united, a few miles out from the village of the
Buffalo Killer Sioux.

The warriors having the Brandons in charge were,
many of them, in a state of tipsy intoxication, and still

others were hardly able to stick to the backs of their

mustangs.

As a result, the Brandons had been subjected to
many indignities, and would have been killed, but for
the intervention of the young chief in command—Red
Hand.

The young chief’s kindness was only apparent, how-
ever. He had but lately risen to power. This was his
first raid. It had yielded whisky, plunder, @nd pris-
oners, and the prisoners he wanted kept alive, that he
might exhibit them in the village, and give them up to
torture there afterward.

Z

Thereby he hoped to increase his power and become
the chief in supreme command of the Buffalo Killer
Sioux. At present he had a few rivals; but less than

when the raiding started, as one had been killed by a
fall from his horse.
fallen in the fight in which old Nomad was captured.

“Only the Black Chief remains, and that weakling,
Blue Wolf. I can buy off Blue Wolf with a string of

"ponies, and the Black Chief—the door of death is ae

It is well.”

So thought Red Hand, when, meeting the party that
held Nomad, he heard the latest news.

AAs the prisoners were pushed to the center of the
united bunch of warriors, they could talk to each
other ; and Nomad improved the opportunity.

“I ain’t goin’ ter say nothin’ erbout whyever ye
come out hyar,” he declared; “fer people swill make
mistakes. I made one, ee I tumbled inter the
hands 0’. these hyar red devils. What I’m sayin’ is
—has yer seen, er heerd, anything o’ Buffler : ee

ing for him!

 

 

 

 

He now learned that another had

  

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They told him what they knew—what they ‘had re-
ceived from the baron.

“Ef ther baron is still loose he'll connect up wi’
some 0’ ther bunch, ye kin deepend on’t,” he said;
“ther luck o’ ther baron is thet continyul et is shore a
phenomernon; though et sonietimes seems ter go back
on him, et don’t. So I’m goin’ ter bank on ther baron.
And as long as Buffler an’ Pawnee is free, out on ther
world’s big ranges, desp’ar ain’t goin’ ter git me.”

Louise Brandon, in spite of the bravery of her
male attire, was a. very much frightened and teary-
eyed young woman; yet she was trying to hold up
bravely.

“Do you really think they can help us?” she asked.

“Does I think et? Why, miss, I know et.”

“But there are so many Indians here; and we're
being taken to the Indian village, where there must
be ever so many more!”

A sly smile wrinkled the*old borderman’s face, for
he remembered that the Indian village was the place
they had been determined to visit.

“Thar'll be plenty of ~’em,’ he admitted; “yit et
don’t keep me frum bankin’ on Buffler an’ them thet is
with him.”

Louise Brandon was even more frightened when
the village of the Buffalo Killer Sioux was entered,
which was the same day. Painted warriors and clain-
orous squaws gathered about the prisoners in a seem-
ingly frenzied mob.

Here the prisoners were separated, and thrown into
filthy lodges; while a big council was called, to decide
what should be done with them.

Nomad knew, from what he had\heard, that Red
Hand would vote for their death. He also knew that
the whisky brought from the cabin by the river would
serve to inflame the braves—it had been already dis-

_ tributed; and his hopes of a favorable outcome came

as near failing as ever in his life.

Understanding the talk of the Sioux, he was able
to size up the situation pretty accurately.

The Black Chief had been hurt; the fall ola iene
pole in a recent storm had so injured him that he
was expected to die; it had struck him on the head.
Red Hand wag now in control; and he was a rabid and
violent young redskin, with a hatred of the white men
so intense that he sought to bring on a war with
them,. believing, in his ignorance, that the Buffalo
Killer Sioux were able to destroy all the white men
on the border. Of the many thousands and millions
beyond the border he knew nothing at all, except that

a Rk 6

THE BUFFALO

 

BILL STORIES. : 3

he had heard of them, and scorned them as weaklings.
If, he could force these Sioux into a war, and wir,
then he would be the great war chief; and his ambi-
tious thoughts had never scared higher than that pin-
nacle.

Nomad listenec. to, the booming of the drurhs sum-
moning the braves to the great council; and he thought
of the Brandons, with pity. He ined them no less
because they had been headstrong and foolish. They
had refused, to credit the savagery of the Buffalo
Killer Sioux, just as the latter were now Pee to
credit the power of the white men.

- The old borderman was sad and heartsick—a con-
dition that did not come to him often.
“’Tain’t agoin’ ter do ther young things any good
to have pony soldiers come and sweep all these hyar
dancin’ redskins into the ole Missou’, aifter they’re
dead. As fer me—waal, Pm old, and I has had my
day ; ever’ dawg must have his day, an’ I shore has’ had
mine. -So 1 reckon! kin stand et.” :

. As the night came down, and he lay listening to the
vociferous and half-drunken orators foaming in the
council lodge, he thought over his past life, and the
recollections took him far. Coming down to the re-
cent past and the present, he recalled the fight he had
put up; when the Sioux captured him; it had been a

great fight, and the life of a Sioux chief had been

ended in it. But that would make it all the worse
for the old borderman, whet the Sioux came to deal
with him.

He recalled his adventures at the cabin, and won-
dered about the man, Morgan, whom he had met there.
His experience made him know that Morgan was a
murderous scoundrel and whisky trafficker. He had
come near losing his life in that cabin. .

“An’ mebbyso,” he thought, “ ‘twould er been bet-
ter fer meet I had! on

He recalled how he had fallen asleep, fully dressed,
on the little cot in the upstairs room; then had ‘been
suddenly awakened by the tipping of the cot, and a

grinding sound, like the creaking of a winch.

On trying to leap from the cot he had Ber pre-
cipitated into the hole that had opened in the floor,
and had gone down like a plummet, into the water of
the river, under the overhang of the house.

He did not know then—what he was to learn late#—
that a murderous cross beam, armed with a scythe
knife, usually lay in wait for the victim thus precipi-
tated out of the bed; he thought the attempt had De
made to drown him, | a

;
anes

 
  
 
      
   

26 THE BUFFALO

“Et would of done et, too, ef. I hadn’t been ther

water dawg what I am,” he reflected. “Yit ay tells
me drowndin’ is a easy death, and Tain’t goin’ to have
no easy one, ef I go under hyar.
an’ toomulchus swimmin’, when my nose come out er
ther worter, war a vain an’ foolish show. Anyhow,
I know I swum like er mus’rat, and come out ‘way
down ther river, wetter’n a seal.

“Then, when I war congratulatin’ myself, I found
thet Sioux war close by me, an’ I had ter vamose sud-
den; couldn’t git back an’ take ter ole Hide-rack. Won-
der whar thet caballo is, anyhow, by now? Waal, et
don’t matter.

“T made er hustle, and got erway frum them Sioux,
and got way out on ther plains, swinging er circle thet
T thought might connect me up wi’ Buffler; then fell,
like er fool, right inter ther claws 0’ some more 0’
ther reds. But I put up a fight they’re rememberin’,
- before they got ther crimps. on ter me.

“Waal, what’s ther use o’ thinkin’ ?—takes all sorts
o incerdents ter make up a lifetime; et plum’ does!”

Fierce yells, that seemed to split the council lodge,
told him that the sentiments of the rabid young chief
who demanded the death of the prisoners met with
high approval.

“Waugh! Let ‘em howl!” he grumbled. “When
ther pony soldiers come fer ‘em theyll do another
kind; yit it mebbyso won’t do me no good, an’ ther
Brandons. I’m a heap sorry fer them Brandons.”

CHAPTER XII.
- HEROIC PARDS.
“That howling and the tom-tom hubbub has a sound
that I don’t like, Pard Bill.’
The remark was from Pawnee.

Buffalo Bill and his three companions—Pawnee, the
baron,-and Little Cayuse—had approached the village
of the Buffalo Killer Sioux in the night.

The hour was late; yet lodge fires were burning, the

village seemed seething with excitement, while the yell-

ing of half-intoxicated braves, the squabbling outcries
of noisy squaws,,and the deafening bark of Indian
dogs made the darkness hideous. _

“It proves one thing—that there are. prisoners in
the .village,’ was the comment of the great scout ;

“and, from the light in that big lodge, I think that a
council i is being held, or a just ended. Of coutse, it
_ concerned the prisoners.”

BILL STORIES.

*So mebby my high.

who i is bent on raising Cain.”

Ase

   

Tired of riding, they had dismounted, and stood
by their weary horses, the latter putting down their
heads and snatching mouthfuls of grass.

“1 know oof a sureness,”’ said the baron, “dot der
Prandons are brisoners.”

“And from what we saw in that mirage we have
every reason to believe,” added Buffalo Bill, “that
Nomad is. And there may be others.”

“Vot iss to be dit?”

“If we knew where the prisoners are held,’ said
‘we might charge in and rescue them.”
said the Piute,
“you sabe heap

Pawnee, ‘
“Sioux kill um bimeby pronto,”

straining to look through the darkness;

big powwow mean kill um bimeby.”

“Tt has that look, Cayuse,” the scout admitted. “So
I’m going to ask you to make a sneak in there and
try to locate them. Of course, if the chance to get
them away is good, do it; and we ‘ll be right on deck
to cover your retreat.’

“But you want to be cautious,’ Pawnee warned.
“Though a lot of those ki-yis seem to be howling
drunk, if they have a chief who is on his job he'll have
guards set who are sober, and some sober warriors
for fighting, if he needs them. Old Black Chief, who-
ever he is, is said to be a mighty shrewd rascal. So
you're to mind your P’s and Q’s.”

“NG 3 Mesa be.”

The Piute dropped his rifle, tightened his belt, set-
tled his flannel headband well down on his black hair,
and slid away into the night. —

While he was gone they squatted beside the ani-

mals, ate a few mouthfuls from their war bags, and
talked, and let the animals graze. |

@
t

Cayuse was gone the better part of an hour; then
he reappeared in their midst as silently as he had de-
parted.

“No can find,” he said, in a tone of deep disgust.
“Sioux brave all places same time. Ugh!”

“They're still a heap wide awake,’ said Pawnee,

“and moving round; and you didn’t dare risk trying
to get close in?”

AL. 2?

“Did you' see the Black Chief?”

“No see um; hear tdlk Black Chief sick; mebbyso
die pronto.”

“That clears the fey a little. The Black Chief is

said to have been always’ friendly to the white men;

but if he is/sick and about to die, that means. that
some subchief has taken control—some young: bloba,

   
   

@

   
    

fat eg ee
   

od

Cr

ve
at

vu

 

They talked it over, and still lingered.
“What else did you hear?” they asked the Piute.
“No can understand Sioux good; but make um pris-

oner die to-mor’, me think.”’

“Yoost you listen,” said the baron, burning for ex-
citement and danger and an opportunity to distinguish
himself; “‘yoost you listen py me, now. I vill take
mine scare Inchun unt valk me righdt dot willage in,
unt meppyso I can do somedings.”

“You can get yourself killed, all right, Schnitz,”
said Pawnee. —

“It iss my own riskiness.”

“Pawnee is right,” Buffalo Bill objected; “you would
be killed; and perhaps block anything we might want
to. do. _ For, you see, they perhaps do not dream now
that we are in the neighborhood.”

“If they thought we were near,’ argued Pawnee,
“they would have scouts out; and we have heard
none.” : ‘

“Vot you say?” said the reckless German.
am kilt, vhy idt iss me—unt idt iss nodt you.”

“We couldn’t afford to lose you, Schnitz,’” said
Pawnee.

“Oord

“We will go in,” said the scout, looking at his prairie
pard.

The baron jumped to his feet.

“Vot—all oof us?” 7

“Pawnee and I.” ?

“Unt ve are to sday pehint, unt feel lonesome? Ach!
dot issa shame!’

“We'll be back before daylight; with the prisoners,
if we can get them. You and Cayuse will stay right
here. If we shouldn’t return by daybreak, you had
better retreat into the deep draw, about two miles
back, and stay_hid there until you hear from us.”

“Oof you dit nodt come adt. all?”

“We will be deadt, or prisoners, ourselves; then you
can do whatever you like.”

The baron did not rebel; he knew when it would do
no good. 6

“Oof der dare iss Behan 1 unt you Pina: us, yoost
send oop some volf howling; unt ve vill be righdt avay
behint your pack. Vill you dake der scare Inchun?
Idt mighdt be oof a usefulness.” 4 ;

They did not care to take it—not having Schnitzen-
hauser’s strong” belief in its power to frighten red-

- skins.

Many of the Sioux were ima drunken stupor ; others,
tired out with dancing, yelling, and the excite-
ment of the great council, had sunk into sleep ; and the

THE. BUPPALO

 

BILL STORIES. | 27

lodge fires had smoldered to beds of dull coals, when
the two noted scouts approached the village.

The pariah dogs were more to be feared than any
guards; and for these animals they watched, crawling,
with knife in hand, to be ready for them.

First ‘circling the village, they looked for a lodge

with a guard before it, thinking that would indicate

where the prisoners were held. Not finding it, they
ventured in, and crept carefully about, their blankets
hooded about their heads and shoulders.
Seeing at last a larger lodge, they moved toward it.
In this lodge a light glowed dimly, like a candle.
When they were near it, still looking for a guard,

they saw an Indian slip up to it, blanketed as they were, ~

cast a quick look about, then slide inside.

Instantly the light in the lodge went out.

As the pards squirmed up to the entrance they heard
a struggle and a gurgling sound, like that of a man
choking.

Their thought was that one of the prisoners was _

in the lodge, and some cowardly brave had sneaked
in, bent on killing the prisoner.

Buffalo Bill squirmed throtigh the entrance; right
behind him came Pawnee.
tinuing, the scout crawled on. Locating the noise to a
nicety, he launched himself at a stooping form he
dimly beheld.

He landed on the back of an Indian. As the In-
dian went down, the scout’s fingers sought his wind-

pipe. He was aware that he had fallen on a cot of ©
~ skins.

The Indian's face being driven into it, the
cry he tried to raise as the scout’s SBE gouged at
his throat was stifled.

Pawnee Bill came sliding to Buffalo Bill's assist-
ance.

About this time Buffalo Bill became aware that two
men were under him. He judged “that the third man
was the prisoner whom the Indian, as he believed, had

been trying to kill.

“Got him?” Pawnee whispered hoarsely.

rAyel Ive got him. . Get your lariat ready,’ was
whispered back.

Pawnee loosed the lariat at his belt, and slid the
noose threugh his fingers.

A! moment or two later the furious but silent strug-
gle had ended, the scout having choked the muscular >

savage into a state ‘of unconsciousness.

“Tie him, Lillie,’ he panted, trying to : suppress his
heavy breathing, while still clinging to the senseless
” redskin; “he thay be possuming, though I think not;
you'd better run a line through his mouth.’

The sounds ofgchoking con- -

  

ore

  
 

28

Pawnee Bill's nimble bier got to work, and they
did a ve job; in less than a minute more the In-
dian was “hog-tied” so that he could hardly have moved
if he had possessed all his faculties.

“Find that light, and see if you can get it to going
again; and watch the entrance.”

“Right-o!” | “

Pawnee found a lamp of fat, with a twisted wick
in it, and stuck a lighted match against the wick.

“Looks sort of reckless, necarnis.”

“The light was burning a little while ago, when this
sneak came in; he blew it out, when he began his mur-
der work. Hold the light over here, and let’s see who
the prisoner is.”

Great was their amazement when the light fell on
the face of the man whom the Indian had choked. He
was a black-hearded white man, whom they had never
before seen.

“Deserted Jericho!” breathed Pawnee.
necarnis?”’

INOL,

“Well, this puts me up the tree!’’

“I think I understand it.”

“I know that 1 don’t.”

“Take a look at him; then put the light back, and
watch the entrance. What do you say to the idea that
this is the Black Chief, who was said to be sick and
about to die? You can see that oe is a wound on
the top of his head.”

Pawnee blew out a whistle of astonishment. :

“But—he is a white man?’

“With a black beard! Notice that.

“Know him,

That’s enough

to give him the name of the Black Chief. He’s a ren-

egade.”
The scout glanced at the senseless Indian; then

stooped and felt,for the white man’s pulse. The

next moment he had out his liquor flask, and was
pouring a few drops of whisky between the man’s lips.

“Tf he is the Black Chief,’ Pawnee iar alin “why
would a Sioux want to kill him?’

The scout looked at the senseless Sioux.

“See those head feathers—of a sort that would be
worn by a chief?
young chief who wanted to get the old chief out of
_ the way, so that he could reign, as you may say, in his
stead. How does that strike you for a theory?”

Pawnee whisled again. '

“Perhaps you're right. Anyhow, it looks it. He
was certainly putting the old man on the road to the
happy hunting ground, and hurrying him.”

THE BUFRALO

My guess is that this fellow is a.

   

 

BILL STORIES.

“And doing it stealthily. He came: into the lodge
stealthily, blew the lamp out, and tried to put out the
lamp of the man here.”

He trickled a few more drops of the fiery liquor be-
tween the white man’s lips.

“Keep your eyes peeled,’ he warned; “it will be all
night with us if we're caught in here, with two eaeety
dead chiefs on our hands.”

Pawnee peered out.

“That's right, too, hecarnis; we'd last about as long
as a snowbank ie August. All seems quiet out there;
not a ki-yi near.’

The white man began to stir feebly, and groaned.

“Td like to have a talk with this fellow,” said the
scout. :

“It would be mighty risky—in here. We might put
out the light, though.”

“And the fact that it was out might draw Indians,
to see what that meant.”

“You'll have to pass it up.”

Buffalo Bill was not in the habit of ceca anything
up that he wanted to do.

“See if the coast is clear.”

“Couldn’t be clearer,” Pawnee reported, after an-
other look. : |

“Tf I can manhandle the ki-yi, do you think you can
carry the old man?”

“What! Take them out of here?”

- “Out to where the baron and Cayuse are.’

“Wow! Say, that’s a great idea! I think we can
work it; anyhow, we can make the try. With two of
their chiefs in our hands we ought to be in a position
to demand the release of the prisoners, for the lives of

_the chiefs; that is, we could do it if we had a crowd

to make a stand with, or had a backing of pony. sol-

waters...

“We can try it with the crowd we’ve got.”

Pawnee looked again, and reported that the coast
was clear. Then he crawfished and blew out the fat
lamp. A moment later, each with his heavy burden,

‘they stole out of the big lodge and began to make their

way through the darkness toward the open plains.
NE)

 

CHAPTER XIIL
BUFFALO BILL ¢ THUNDERBOLT.

When the black-bearded white man came ie to
himself it was in a double sense. |

The efforts of Buffalo Bill and Pawnee to restore
him to consciousness had at last been rewarded. But

  
 

  

THE BUFFALO

'

for some time after that he had remained in an ap-
parent daze. From this he finally roused as with an
effort.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“With some of Buffalo Bill’s men,”
at the moment bending over him.

The man looked at the stars.

“I’m not in a house, or a lodge!”

“Out in the open, close by the village of the Buf-
falo Killer Sioux. We've been guessing that you are
the Black Chief. You were in a lodge there, and a

e

said Pawnee,

young chief was choking you to death, when we came .

to your help; then we carried you out here. We
brought the chief, too. We have been making him
talk. He says his name is Red Hand, and that you
are the Black Chief.”

The white man did not at once answer. Instead,
he looked at the sky again, as if trying to think, or fix
his wandering thoughts,

“Say that again,” he at length requested.

Pawnee Bill repeated it.

“What is your name?’ said Pawnee.

“I’m trying to remember that. I think I have been
sick, or hurt.” His hand was lifted to his head. ‘‘Yes,
I’ve been hurt.”

“Red Hand says a lodge pole fell on you, in a storm.
He claims he was not trying to choke you, but was
trying to help you; and that he is your friend. De-
liver me from such friends!”

Again the white man lay silent.

“Help me to sit up,’ the man requested. “Things
are po back to me, or else I have been dream-
ing.” |

They aided him to a sitting position, and propped
him with blankets and saddles. He was also given a

pull at the whisky flask.
“My name,” he said, as if still trying to think, “‘is
—Brandon.” ; 7
“Hoop-a-la!’” whispered Pawnee Bill. “I reckon
you'll be mightily interested in some news we've got for
you, then. But go on.”
"Yes, my name is Brandon—Amos Brandon. I live
in Ohio, and I’ve got a family there. Still, it’s queer
—for it seems to me that J am an Indian chief!”
“The Black Chief.”

“That’s it. But how did you know it?”

“We heard that. I spoke of ita moment ago.”
“That I was the Black Chief?”

“We heard there was a Black Chief, and we oe
that there was a man named Amos Brandon; and Red

 

BILL STORIES,

29

Het meisee if) cant help your mem- ‘
You feel a bit dazed—a bit hazy in

Hand confessed.
ory along a little.
your thoughts?”

es Uda,
good while.”’

I’ve been asleep a good while, or sick a

3

“Amos Brandon,” said Pawnee, “came out to the
Sioux country, on his way to the Black Hills, in search

of gold; and came with a man named Morgan.”

“No; his name was Mason.”

“The same man, though, | haven't a doubt; both
came from Tannersville, Ohio.”

“That's right.”

“What happened after you and Mason got here?”

“T don’t know. Yes, we quarreled, and we had a
fight.” He rubbed his head nervously. - “That’s—all _

: I remember—about that.”

“He struck you on the head?’

“He did; he hit me with an ax handle, while we
were fighting. JI remember seeing the ax inane

“Where was this?” /

“On the head.” :

“T mean the location?”

“Oh! On the Missouri River.”

“Anything else?”

“The next thing I remember seems like a dream—

and perhaps it was’ a dream; but I was in the river,
and an Indian pulled me out of it.”

He tossed nervously, and stared round, as old and
dead memories came back, some hazily, others dis-
tinctly.

“Then I remember there was sickness—in the In-
dian village; and I doctored the Indians. The chief
died, and others. And——”

Vou Mecarig the Black Chief.”

“Veg that’s it; they made me their chief, when their
chief was dead. But that must have been a long time
BeOS : |

He stared into the face of Pawnee Bill.

“Tell. me,”
crazy

“T don’t think that you are.”

“Then I have been crazy, or something like that;
for I can remember some things, and then it seems
as if a gap of years had dropped out. It seems to
me right now as though I had waked up after being
asleep for years. Of course, that can’t be so.”

he implored, “that you don’t think I am.

“T've gota theory—about your case.”
_“T haven't sense enough to have even that.”
“Let me lay it out to you.”

  
 

   

30 THE BUFFALO

“Go ahead. But I’m glad that you don’t think T
am crazy.”

“T’ve got to hurry-hustle Hee Say to you; so if
I talk fast and skip some of the points, it will’ have
to go so. I think when you were hit on the head with
the ax handle by Mason, he believed you were dead,
and chucked you into the river, to feed the fishes. Per-
haps the water revived you. Anyway, an Indian res-
cued you; and he no doubt took you to his village.

“There you recovered, but you didn’t remember
your past; you had forgot that you were Amos Bran-
don. You helped the Sioux when smallpox raged
among them; and afterward, because of that, they
made you their chief. Your beard and hair were
black; and, as you had no name, they called you the
Black Chief. And here you stayed.”

_ “It’s an interesting story.”

“And I’ve no doubt it is every. word true. _
me good to believe that it is. For, you see, Brandon,
we were at first of the opinion that you were a rene-.
gade white man, who had herded here with the reds,”

Vlts a queer story)”

“You kept the Buffalo Killer Blots at peace with
the white men. Not long ago you were knocked on the
head by a lodge pole, in a storm; and-came near dying.
But you didn’t make a die of it fast enough to suit Red
Hand, who wanted your position; so he thought he
would hasten you along with a choking. We caught
him at that; and he is our prisoner right here.”

“T haven’t seen him yet!’

They brought up Red Hand; but the light was poor,
and the scouts did not care to use matches. Yet, when
Red Hand spoke, the Black Chief knew him.

“You dog!” he cried, in Sioux. “Did you try to
choke me to death?”’

Red Hand denied/it; he said he had bee ying to
help the Black Chief, when the white men rushed into
the lodge and overpowered him.

“I think you are a lying dog!” said Beacon

“That last blow on the head,” said Pawnee, ‘ “was ae
hair of the dog that was needed to cure the bite;
other words, I think it undid what was eomtiied
by the blow of the ax handle. When you came to
yourself here you were hazy, but you remembered that
you were Amos Brandon, and did not at first recall
that you were also the Black Chief.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Now, I have another reveling noe a theory this
time. You hada family, back in Ohio.”

“A wife, and a boy and girl.”

 

Tt does

BILL STORIES.

‘Your boy and girl are fiere.”

Brandon stared round.

“They are prisoners of the Buffalo Killer Sioux,”

econ tried to get on his feet.

“Can that be so?’ :

“You wouldn't know them. Remember that it is
years since you left home. They are now grown.
They came out here searching for you, and fell into
the hands of the Sioux; and they are now prisoners in
the village near us.”

Vis it near?’

“Not a mile away.”

“TI must go-to them.”

“That is what we intend you shall do—if you are
strong enough; or as soon as you are strong eee :

“T must go to them now.’

“Held with them is a white man, our pard, named
Nick Nomad. We areas anxious for his release as
you can be for the release of your children.”

“T will have them released at once. My children
here).

“You are the Black Chief.” 3

“I am the Black Chief. I remember it well now.
And I am Amos Brandon.” oo

“Red Hand has taken your place, and stirred up
trouble along the border.”

They pushed Red Hand forward again. |

"Vom doe! said Black ‘Chief. "Is at isan And
you—you tried to kill me!’

Red Hand denied it. oy

#1 will have you whipped for this,” said the Black
Chict

“It is a lie,” said Red Hand; “all is a lie!”

“You did not choke me?’

Noe

“My children are not prisoners?”

i a not know. Three white people are _pris-
oners.’

“One is my daughter, and one my son. You have

seen them?”
“They are in the village.”

“A great council was held this night, and we think
that.they are to be killed,” said Pawnee.

Brandon again tried to rise.

“Set me on a pony,” he begged; “I will go there at

once! te

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee drew apart and Cntined,

“Put the Black Chief in there, and it will be a thun-
derbolt,”’ said Pawnee. “The Indians think he is sick,

 

 

 

Ww

h

  
  
  

or dying, in his lodge; but let them see him again, and

they will obey him.”
“Tl launch that thunderbolt,” said the great scout.
They talked again with Brandon, and they forced
answers from Red Hand. In the end, they under-

stood the situation as well as if they had been in the .

village a year and had heard every word uttered that
night in the council.

They made their plans. But they did not move
until after daybreak. In the meantime, they stimu-
lated Brandon with some of the contents of the whisky
flask. Another thing that was even more stimulating
was his desire to aid his son and daughter.

At daybreak drums began to «boom again in the
village. Then fires were seen leaping there. Loud
yelling sounded, with Indian dancing and singing,
And as the gray dawn spread across the plains, Buffalo
Bill and his companions saw the prisoners brought out,
and led before the village, to die.

Buffalo Bill launched his thunderbolt.

‘Though Brandon was weak and feverish, he sat
sturdily erect on Hide-rack, Nomad’s horse; and rode
beside Buffalo Bill and Pawnee into the village, and
up to the dancing redskins.

Red Hand had been left behind, in charge of the
baron and Little Cayuse.

Old Nomad, roped to a log that was about to be
dragged through one of the fires, yelped like a wolf
when he beheld Buffalo Bill. Only the moment before
he had been defying his captors and daring them to do
their worst. .

“Buffler and Pawnee!’ he screamed.
failed me yit. THalleluyer! Glee-ory!”

The Black Chief drove Hide-rack into the midst of
thé Buffalo Killer Sioux grouped round the prisoners.

“What does it mean?” he shouted.

The Indians were amazed to see him with the white
men. Some of Red Hand’s friends had reported that
he was ‘still ill in his lodge; but here he was, and he
had come in from the open plains! :

They explained, as they clutched their weapons, and
stared angrily at the white men with the Black Chief,
that the prisoners had been taken in a fight, and were
to be tortured.

Brandon looked at the prisoners.
contain his feelings no longer. Sliding from the back
of Hide-rack, he rushed to his son and daughter; then
he begged for a knife, and began to cut their bonds.

The plans to torture and slay the prisoners came to
a sudden end; for the Buffalo Killer Sioux were still
loyal to the Black Chief.

THE BUFFALO

“They never

Then he could

BILL STORIES. oe ae

Red Hand, brought into the village, “took a back
seat.” He denied agar that he had tried to kill the
Black Chief.

“Now, my children,”
am going away.”

“Let the Black Chief stay,” they implored;
the terrible sickness comes again—the sickness that
kills—we will have the Black Chief here to stop it, and
we shall live.”

“T will come back to you,” he promised.

But it was a promise that he was destined not to re-
deem very soon.

While Brandon and the scouts, with their friends,
were still in the village, they heard a bit of news—the

said Brandon to the Bae re

story of the death of the man who had called himself -

Morgan.

It seemed that when Morgan and the negro met the
Sioux, who were on their way to the cabin to get more
whisky, the Sioux slew him.

The negro, more crafty, saved his life by proclaim-
ing his willingness to show them where the whisky was
cached; they had found only a part of it.

And he had been on his way to the cabin with —

them for that purpose when he was seen galloping in
their midst, by the Brandons and the baron.
had he shown a willingness, but he had pretended de-
light in it, and had laughed with them as if he felt
pleased to accede to their wishes.

They had let him go, after he had shown them the
whisky.
THE END.

“Buffalo Bill's Sioux Circus: or, Pawnee Bill, Prince
of the Plains,” is the title of the story in‘the next issue,
No. 535. Itis a story of unusually lively interest, and
all through it there is the thrilling excitement of a
three-cornered fight, between the Bills and their pards,
a band of hostile Sioux warriors, and a party of des-
perate outlaws. It will be on sale at the news stands

August 12th.

 

 

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this weekly. High art colored covers.

974—Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed; or, The Race for a Hun-
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776—Frank Merriwell’s Wit; or, Thwarting a Governor.

777—Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty; or, The Land of the Lost
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778—Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play; or, The Checkmating of
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779—Frank Merriwell’s Insight; or, The Brand Blotter of the
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780—Frank Merriwell’s Guile; or, The Queen of the Matadors. _

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782—Frank Merriwell in the National Forest; or, Outwitting the
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783—Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity; or, The Mystery of the Famous
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784—Dick Merriwell’s Self-Sacrifice; or, The Man Who Could
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790—Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work; or, The Frustration of the
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791—Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case; or, The Lure of the Ruby,
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ee eel Fellowship; or, The Man with the Wrong
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740—A Mysterious Robber; or, Nick Carter’s Counterplot.

741—The Green Scarab; or, Nick Carter’s Beautiful Mystery.

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749—A Voice from the Past; or, Nick Carter’s Phonograph Trap.
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751—The Crime of a Century; or, Nick Carter and the Chief of
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eeccce: MT Cece iets ee el cua ii Stale) eas

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BUFFALO BILL STORIES

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

BEAUTIFUL

COLORED

COVERS

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures

of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are.

These stories have been read exclusively in this

weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.
Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to

Know all there is to know about him.

In no manner can you Become so thoroughly acquainted with

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES,

You can have your news-dealer
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in
money or postage-stamps.

We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print.

283—Buftalo
285—Buffalo
287—Buffalo
288—Buffalo
292—Buffalo
293—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306—Buffalo
308—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
312—Buffalo
314—Buffalo
315—Buftfalo
316—Buftalo
319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
324—Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buftalo
329—Buffalo
830—Buffalo
331—Buffalo
332—Buifalo
333—Buffalo
334——Buffalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—Buffalo
339—-Buffalo
340—Buffalo
341—Buffalo
342— Buffalo
343—Buffalo
344—Buffalo
345—Buffalo
346—Buffalo
348—DBuffalo
349—Buffalo
350—Buffalo
351—Buffalo
352—Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354—Buffalo
355—Buffalo
356—Buffalo
357—Buffalo
358—Butffalo
359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
362— Buffalo
363—Buffalo
264—Buffalo
366—Buffalo
367—Buffalo
368—Buffalo
369—Butffalo
370-—Buffalo
371—Buffalo
372— Buffalo
374—Buffalo
375—Buftfalo
377—Buffalo
378—Buffalo
379— Buffalo
380—Buffalo
381—Butffalo
382— Buffalo
383—Butffalo
384— Buffalo
385—Buffalo

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer,
Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

from this

office.

SUSU el AS LUMUD eG eee has veteran ccs

sill’s + Master-stroke.
Bill and the Brazos Terror. 4
Bill’s Dance of Death.......
Bill’s Medicine-lodge........
Bib ime Peril were we. wens ae
Bill’s. Black ‘Hagless.) . oi)...
Bill’s Desperate Dozen......
Bill and the Barge Bandits.
Bill, the Desert Hotspur.... 5
Bill’s ‘Whirlwind Chase.....
Bills Red Retribution...... 5
Bill’s Death Jump
Bill in the Jaws of Death.... 5
Bill’s Aztec Runners......
Bill’s Dance with Death.....
Bil’s Mazeppa Ride........
BULSeGy syn Band 2s Se.
Bill’s Gold Hunters... Si
Bill in: Old Mexico. 2625... 5
Bill’s Message from the Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master....
Bill’s Flying Wonder....... 5
Billsstadden ~ Goldis cscs.
Bills 2Outlaw “'Trailic. > so. 5
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and tle Mad pena:
Bill’s Ice Barricade.

Bill and the Robber Elk.
Bulls’ Ghost Dances. ./2 s5\ 5
Bill's: “Peadce-pipes...s secs + ose
Bil’s Red Nemesis.........
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa...... 5
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bilis Pay Streaks ss. ees 5
Bill on Detached Duty......
Bill’s Arm Mystery........
Bilis: Surprise aParty 2.6.2.
Bilise Great Ride insets. 5
Bills; Water rade cis. 2)
Bill’s Ordeal of Fire........
Bil’s Casket of Pearls......
Bills USky “Pilotucdeers tec. : 5
IBULLESe SAN OEeINE ree i oes sie 5
Bills; Mat-boat? Drift. ss 5. .¢
Bill on Deck
Bill and the Bronco Buster.
Bill’s Great Round-up...... 5
Bills: Pledge vce ee ea
Bus: Cowboy “Pards. 3025.
Bill and the Emigrants......
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s Four-footed Pards.
BUS OP LOLeke ne cere kiss fees
Bills?) PIGK po. as sy ese. 5
BIS GO UGS. sone ees
Bill’s Waif of tho Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons..
Bilis Assistancecccn 2). cs 5
Bills Rattlesnake Trail.....
Bill and the Slave-Dealers...
Bills Strone. Arm. 0) (ean 5
TMS Garlands cau iie cree: 5
Bills irom Bracelets) s0.... 5
Bill’s Jade Amulet........ oo.
BUS Macic Wariaty. 250... 5
Bills Bridge: of Hires 2. 5
BINS eR OWAel men co es ile oe 5
Bills Aeayestreaic 6) a 0 ea 5
Bill's La a peal ea usar ay Maney are 5
Bill’s
Bill’s Rus
Bill Oserbonrd Rideau steceuaecamee ote 5
ASTUTE Raa eee oak ae ae 5
Bill’s Big Pocncak bc oertia gae 5

 

386—Buffalo
387—Buffalo
888—Buffalo
389—Buffalo
390—Buffalo
391—Buffalo
392—Buffalo
393—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buffalo
396—Buffalo
397—Buffalo
3898—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Buffalo
401—Buffalo
402—Buffalo
403—Buffalo
404—Buffalo

406—Buffalo
407—Buffalo
408—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—Buffalo
411—Buffalo
412—Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—Buffalo
415—Buffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Buffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Buffalo
421—Buffalo
422—Buffalo
423—Buffalo
424—_Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
427—Buffalo
428— Buffalo
429—Buffalo
430—Buffalo
431—Buffalo
432—Buffalo
433—Buffalo
434— Buffalo
435—Buffalo
436—Buffalo
437—Buffalo
438—Buffalo
439—Buffalo
440—Buftfalo
441—-Buffalo
442 Buffalo
445

444-_Buffalo
445—Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Buffalo
448—Buffalo
449—Buffalo
450—Buffalo
451— Bee

osa
459-—Buffalo
453—Buffalo
454—Buffalo
455—Buffalo
456—Buffalo
457—Buffalo
458—Buffalo
459—Buffalo
460—Buffalo

Bill and Calamity Jane..... 5
Bills Aid?) “Pardee lee.
Bill’s Desperate Plight......
Bill’s Fearless Stand.......
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bill’s Guiding Hand

Bulls Queer Questincc io...
Bills Prize ‘“‘Getaway”’

Bill’s Hurricane Hustle.....
Billse Stary 2B layicrens ssiet ss siete
Bill’s Bluff

IBLE ene CKORSIS co aris tens ete lete ree
Buse Durch. War diss ess sce
Bulcand: the: Bravo: 3...
Bill and the Quaker........
Bill’s Package of Death.....
Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
Brilis VRRIVate Wal <6 sie ce
Bill and the Trouble Hunter. &

Bill and the Rope Wizard... 5

IIS BOS HA 05a tackite us ws oe erro 5
Bill Among the Cheyennes...
LT CSIC DEG aiecs eae ees et eaenens 5
Bill and the Red Hand......
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift......
Bill. and the Specter........

Bill and the Red Feathers... -

Bill's King “Strokev. 5 2.-.2:-
Bill, the Desert Cyclone....
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.......
Bill and the Man-wolf......
Bill and His Winged Pard..
Bill at Babylon Bar........
BALLS! Hone Arm so siekes ce rere ss
Bul s Steel Arm: Bard o..j5 2%
Bill’s Aztee Guide.......... By
Bill and Little Firefly.......
Bill in the Aztec City... .-..
Rill’s Balloon Escane........
Bill and the Guerrillas......
Bills (Bordety Walia te eee, «
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up....... 5
Bill and the Gamecock......
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
Bill’s Whirlwind Finish.....
Bill’s Santa Fe Secret......
Bill and the Taos Terror....
Bill’s Bracelet of Gold.......
Bill and the Border Baron...
Bill at Salt River Ranch....
Bill’s Panhandle Man-hunt..
Bill at Blossom Range......
Bill and Juniner Joes....:..
Bill’s Final Scoop.

Billat Clearwater’. 2... - ett
Bills: Wannine Hand. 4.0.7...
Bills {Cinch Claims. wcciers <3.
Bills Comrades geese ocr sone
Bilin the. Bad wands...
Bill and the Bov Buegler....
Bill and the Heathen Chinee. §
Bill and the Chink War..... 5
Bills -@hinese) Chase. jersre
Bill’s Secret Message.......
Bill and the Eorde of Her-

Bille wonesome: Trails s .) 358
Biles Quarries 0. weitere els
Bilin Deadwood sie eis ses
Bis OR TPSE AN diane. wince E
Bill and Old Moonlight......
Bill Repaid 5
Bills) Throwback. s. sacs cs
Bills SSight Unseen” 22 67.. F
BIS NEW OPaAnG ee eae 5

 

461—Buffalo
462—Buffalo
463—Buffalo
464—Buffalo
465—Buffalo
466—Buffalo
467—Buffalo
468—Buffalo
469—Buffalo
470—
471-—Buffalo
—Buffalo
—Butralo
—Buffalo
—Buffalo
—Bufralo
—Buffalo
— Buffalo
479— Buffalo
481—Buffalo
482—Buffalo
483—-Buffalo
484—Buffalo
485—Buffalo
486—Buffalo
487—Buffalo
488—Buffalo
489

490—Buffalo
492—Buffalo
493—Buffalo
494—Buffalo
495—Buffalo

ers
496—Buffalo
497—Buffalo
498—Buffalo
499—Buffalo
500—Buffalo
501—Buffalo
502—Buffalo
503—Buffalo
504—Buffalo
505—Buffalo
506—Buffalo
507—Buffalo
508—Buffalo
509—Buffalo
510—Buffalo
511—-Buffalo

PL Dp PL
Assy)
DND OUP Cobo

Buffalo:

Bill’s ‘Winged Victory’’.
Bill’s Pieces-of-Hight.. é
Bill and the Bight Vaqueros 5
Bill’s Unlucky. Siesta 5
Bills vApaches Clues. .5G). 575.
Bill and the Apache Totem..
Bill’’s Golden Wonder.......
IDI Se siesta, INIeb bes o2ese: s .
Bill and the Hatchet Boys..
Bill and the Mining Shark...
Bill and the Cattle Barons...
Bilis Wongs Oadsin.c. so set
Bill, the Peacemaker.......
Bill’s Promise to Pay
Bill’ss Diamond  -Miteh. ...005%::
Bill and the Wheel of Fate.
Bill and the Pool of Mystery
Bill and the Deserter.......
Bills island ini the Air. <:.. .
Bills Vita tuba es oss care 5
Bill’s Test
Bill and the Ponca Raiders...
Bill’s Boldest Stroke
Bill’s Enigma
Bill’s Blockade
Bill and the Gilded Clique.. !
Bill and Perdita Reyes...... )
Bill and the Boomers.......
Bis Wants cae atten sasoecate
Bill’s O. K 5
Bill at Canon: Diablo: ss 2... :
Bille Pramster cess wise sss é
Bill and the Red Horse Hunt- _
o

SOUT

NOUV n ©

NO

NAOUOUOT OT

NAO

o

Bill’s Dangerous. Duty ‘
Bill and the Chief's Daaehter 5
Bullet. Pinaja Wells... 3... 5
Bill and the Men of Mendon. :
Bill at Rainbow’s End....... 5
Bill and the Russian Plot.... 9
Bulls Reditriansle ick. ss). « A
ESTE SHER O VAM UES Ds oat ot ectsve" ois.
Bills) Mrampmebardiy ue oc. « f
Bill on the Upper Missouri. .
Bill’s Crow Scouts

Bill’s Opium Case 5
Billisi Witch Crate, cere 3s 5
Bill’s Mountain Foes:....... f
Bill’s Battle Cry 3
Bill’s Fight for, the Right... :

512—Buffalo Bill’s Barbecue ...........-.
513—Buffalo Bill and the Red Renegade .... !
514—-Buffalo Bill and the Apache Kid ...... é
515—Buffalo Bill at the Copper Barriers .... 5
516—Buffalo Bill’s Pacific Power

517—Buffalo Bill and Chief Hawkchee
518—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Girl
519—Buffalo Bill Across the Rio Grande

520—Buffalo

man

521—-Buffalo

522—Buffalo

523—Buffalo
524—Buffalo
525—Buffalo
526—Buffalo
527—Buffalo

Bill and the Headless Horse- _

Bill’s Clean Sweep.........-- :
Bill’s Handful of Pearls..... 5
Bills Bueblo Foes.....-....-. 5
Bi SemaIOS /MoOtem scat cc .. : 5
Bill and the Pawnee Prophet
Bill and Old Wanderoo..... 5
Biles Mrerrye Wiad ores aca chats 5

528—Buffalo Bill and Grizzly Dan........ i

529—Buffalo
530—Buffalo
531—Buffalo

Bill at Lone Tree Gap......
Bill’s Trail of Death.-.....-...
Billeat Cimaroon Bar... ...

532—-Buffalo Bill and the Sluice Robber... &
533—Buffalo Bill on Lost River.......... f
534—Buffalo Bill’s Thunderbolt..........
535—Buffalo Bill’s Sioux Circus..........

they can be obtained alvect

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY