is

said

99
“this man

3

stranger,
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ill do,
ill sternly
unarmed and I am here to loo

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Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. V. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., N. Y¥.
Copyright, 1911, y STREET & SMITH.

 

No. 504. fr

NEW YORK, January 7, 1911.

Price Five Cents,

 

Buffalo Bill's Tramp Pard:

OR,

} . ,
-PAWNEE BILL AND THE SACHEM OF SAGINAW.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

_GHAPTER I.
THE MAN WHO WAS “BROKE.”

From within the depths of the building came a roar as
of bedlam let loose.“ The tumult and the ‘shouting
sounded through the door of the Tivoli, under the glaring
kerosene lamps, and echoed through the street. A man
who was passing, drew up, listening and wondering.

_ The hubbub of voice and movemerit came nearer “the

-Tivoli’s door; then, suddenly, the swinging screens were
hurled outward and a form hurtled through and fell in a
huddle on the walk. There it lay, silent and motion-
less. -

A watery- cei, ee faced man looked out and bawled
a husky. threat, shaking his fist toward the shadowy heap
on the walk.

“Come back in hyer ag’in,” he threatened, “an’ Dll do
ye up fer keeps. Thar ain’t no plug-ugly o’ yore stripe
kin play hoss with this layout.”

He withdrew and the doors swung back into place.

The man who was passing, who had stopped, listened,
and wondered, muttered angrily at this violence of many
against one. ‘He started toward the silent heap of hu-
manity on the walk.

Some distance lay between Aim and the huddled form.
Before he came very near through the shadows of the
street, the screen doors opened again and a man ran out;
a man in a gray flannel shirt, sombrero, and with trousers
’ tucked in his boot tops.

of pain..

He dropped on one knee beside the form on the walk,
cast a swift look at the closed swing doors, then jerked
something from his belt.

The object, lifted over the still form, glittered in the
light of the kerosene lamps.

Growling savagely, the man started to bring the bit of
sharp steel down. The descending blow was stayed by
the passer-by, who darted forward like a streak and

caught the other’s wrist.

“You coward!’’. ¢ried the man who had interfered.

“Do you want to knife a man when he can’t defend him- —
self c”

An oath burst ffom the lips of the man in the gray
flannel shirt, but the savage words gave place to a groan
Like bands of steel the fingers.of the man who
had interfered closed on his wrist—closed and twisted
until the knife dropped clattering on the walk and the
owner of it doubled with the torture.

The next moment the man in the gray shirt had, wah
a fierce effort, jumped erect. The stranger threw him
off. ;

a

The man in the gray shirt jerked a revolver from his
belt with his left hand. Before he could level the weapon,
a six-shooter had jumped as if by magic into the hand
of the man who was facing him.

“On-she-ma-da!” laughed he who had dean the bead.
“Don't: try\a game of ;that sort, pilgrim. You're. lett

and can’t be dépended on, anyhow. Clear out before

 

    
 

  

2 a THE BUFFALO

I yy you by the heels and hand you over to the town
marshal.”’

The man in the gray shirt swore e again,
abruptly and faded back into the Tivoli, hugging his right
wrist to his breast with his left arm.

At that moment the form on the walk sat up.

“Two on the red, two on the red,” he mumbled.

“Get up,” said the other.

“Who are you?” inquired the man on the walk.

“Never mind that, for now. You're in some danger
here, I take it, from the way you were bounced out of
that honkatonk, and from the way a man just tried
to use cold steel on you while you were lying stunned
and helpless.” —

“Cold steel?” returned dhe other, struggling to his feet.

(Ves: 2?

“You kept him from that?” ;

“I couldn’t stand by and see a man sent over the Divide
in such cold-blooded, fashion.”

“T'm obliged, stranger.”

“Let it go at that.”

‘‘Was—was the man who tried the keriife tt ick wearing
a gray shirt?”

Ves 99 ‘

Muttering under his breath, the man: who’ ade been
saved from the assassin’s knife caught his new-found
friend by the arm and hurried him for a block along the
street. When they halted it was in a dark cross street
where they could only see each other with difficulty.

The one who had wrenched the knife from the would-—
hand had already of stock: G the olicr

be assassin’s
man’s appearance:

It was not an appearance that qealas impress a Ce
His shoes were rusty and worn, and

in the man’s favor.

his: trousers and coat were in rags. “ut ne man was a

tramp, beyond all doubt, and probably there had ‘been.

good and sufficient reasons for his ejection from the
Biv oll.
What impressed his new friend, and aroused his‘ curi-
osity, was the tramp’s use-of good’ English. His speech
did not at all harmonize with his rags. and” patches and
his disreputable appearance.
“Who are you?’ demanded the tram pts s réscuer.
“Did you ever hear of Saginaw—Saginaw, Mish;
i “Ves. 29:
“Well, I’m the Sehr of Saginaw. :
. The other was inclined to laugh.) i :
“TL. didn’t ae ane had. ,sachems | in - Saginaw,” “he
answered. . o
“Then that’s one on you.”
~ What’ S your ‘other, namie? vi
“For. the: present, if you don't. mind; I’m. keeping it
under my, hat—what's left of my hat. Who are you,
noble benefactor ?” ‘i
“Lillie, Gordon Lillie
“Eh? What's that? Be still, my heart!

ay? a

39

 

Come again,

please.”
‘The other repeated his words. | a
“Buffalo, Bill’s . pard!’. _ murmured - ‘the... Sachem.

“Wouldn’t that take your breath? The next friend of
the great king of scouts has befriended me! Verily, I
fall into ill luck only to have good luck come along and
hang me one right between the eyes. Pawnee Bill, other-
wise Joe Skeetik, otherwise Kulux-Kittybux, knight of

the plains and friend of the friendless, put your little °

hand in mine for a moment, just a moment.”

 

turned °

  

BILL STORIES.

The tramp seized the hand of the bowie man and
pressed it fervently. Pawnee Bill’s interest in the strange

‘individual continued to grow.

- “How did they come to throw you out. ak that honka-
tonk ?” he asked.

“T wanted to change my spots—to ‘transport myself
from this spot in Cheyenne to another spot in the Black
Hills. \At least,’ he added, “I think the next. spot lies in
the topography of the Pah-sap-pah region. You see I’m
following a light by night and a smoke by day—three
flashes of light and three clouds of smoke. ‘The smoke
and the flashes-have brought me here, and I’ve an idea
that: ultimately they’lt land me in the Black Hills. . A
guess, worthy sir, which possibly may be wide of the
mark.” i

Pawnee Bill was gathering the impression that the

Sachem of Saginaw needed some one to look after him

—that he was not well-balanced. His talk seemed to
indicate it.

“What has that to do with your being thrown out
of the Tivoli?” inquired the prince of the bowie.

“A great. deal, companion of my perilous hours,’ re-
turned the tramp gravely. “I had a lone two-pit: piece
in my. pocket... That won’t help a man get over much
ground in:a hostile Indian country, eh? I went into the
Tivoli, [confronted one of the whirling wheels, and |
placed my two bits on the red. It won. I left. the original
stake and winnings where they were. They won again.
Five times it happened, and each time I doubled on the
red. Then black came up. I lost. So grievously I felt,
amiable friend, that I carried on in a manner that. did
not conduce to the order-of the place; for which reason
I was summarily. ejected.”

“Then you were to blame?”

“Undoubtedly.” -

“Who was the man.in the gray shirt???

“T do not know.”

-“From the way you grabbed me and rushed me off
down the street when I mentioned ghe fellow, I was under
ve impression that you knew something about him.”

“T: know: this about him, that he has tried three bes.
now, to fake my life. Once by a revolver shot. |
was in Denver.
where I was caught on a bush. That was in eee Gulch.
And now. to-night, here in Cheyenne,”

“This is mighty queer!” exclaimed Pawnee Bill ‘Don’ t
you know’ his nate, -or why he is ang Hee 2 altempts
on your hier: :

“No. py

“Where did you come. jane ; ea :

The Sachem laughed—not a piaat laugh but one
ined with. bitterness.

“Do you recall: this line a8 a poem, occ com-
patriot? -It a) ‘He came from where he started and
was going where he went.: -[hat applies to me. Iam a
way farer, following ae the flashes oe night and
the smoke by days?) Ae:

“What flashes: are you. talking aco ,

As though in answer to the bowie man’s

show ed suddenly a glittering eye of light.
The “Sachem gasped. ¢‘look '” he muttered. ‘huskily
dropping a tense hand on Pawnee Bill’s arm:
The light vanished as suddenly as it had’ ee ed.
Then it came again, winked out, and showed Atsell an
instant for z a third time.

That:
Again by pushing me over a steep place

; question, ju: st
at that moment, from farther along the dark street, there

  

   
  
   
   
 
   

     
 

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at
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tel aaa ———

a
ee

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‘rocky and steep—too steep for a horse.
the saddle, he pulled the looped reins over the horse's

THE BURFALO

With a yeil the tramp leaped away toward the place
where the light had showed itself. The prince of the
bowie followed at a run, but he could find nothing of
the Sachem of Saginaw, nor of the person who had
caused the light to appear.

“By my medicine,’ he muttered, after a fruitless
search, “that’s the queerest thing that ever crossed trails
with me. I’d like to follow this up, but I haven’t time.
There’s work for me in the Indian country, and Pard
Bill is waiting at Custer.”

\Leaving the cross street, the prince of the bowie, not
a little puzzled, made his way along the main thorough-
fare-and to his hotel.

CHAP TIER: Uf.
THE SMOKE SIGNALS.

“By gorry, that gets me!”

Wild Bill Hickok, his riding horse at a halt, looked
over the animal’s head toward the crest of a low eleva-
tion not more than an eighth of a. mile away.

What he saw was a rising whiff of white smoke.

It wasn’t the smoke, so much as the smoke’s perform-
ance, that had commanded the attention of the man from
Laramie.

It was in the Chew-cara-ash-Nitishic country, as the ©

Absaroke. call the Big Horn Basin, and Wild oe was
riding toward Fort Custer.

His keen eyes had first detected a puff of ae from
the hill crest. It was only a puff, and had appeared sud-
denly, risen slowly into the still air, and then melted away.
Scarcely had the last vestige of it vanished when another
puff rose from the hill, and)this was followed by a third
ball.

Then came an interval during which the Laramie man
studied the hill crest.

“Smoke signals,’ he muttered, ‘or I’m a Piegan. This
is Crow country, and the Crows are all same friends of
the yellow eyes. Is that one bunch of Crows smoke-sig-
naling another, or is it an outfit of Sioux planning devil-
try? Weill see.

He pulled his rifle from the scabbard under the stirrup

- leather, lay it across the saddle in front of him where it

would be handy in case of quick need, rattled his spurs
and started for the rise.
- No “signs” of savages, hostile or otherwise, met his
sharply roving gaze, and the smoke signals did not again
show themselves on top of the low hill.

At the foot of the uplift he drew rein. The slope was
Slipping from

head and let them trail on the ground.

“Wait here, old Spatterdash,’ Wild Bill remarked to
his horse. “I’m going up to look over the top of this
hill. Be ready to jump for the sky line if you see me
coming back in a hurry.”

With that, Wild Bill began his ascent of the rocks.
Coming to a ‘boulder that commanded the top of the hill,
he peered around its granite side and was astonished by
what he saw.

A wet blanket covered a small square of earth. Heaped
under the middle of the blanket were undoubtedly the

smothered embers of the greenwood fire that had caused .
_~ the smoke signals.

Beyond the blanket, kneeling behind

BILL STORIES. | 3

another stone, was a white man in a gray flannel shirt.
Across the top of the stone, in front of him, lay the
barrel of a rifle. The butt of the weapon was at the
man’s shoulder.

The man in the gray shirt had not seen nor heard the
Laramie man’s approach. ‘The latter lifted himself and
peered away from the top of the butte to see who might
be under the muzzle of the threatening rifle.

The uplift was more like a section of a narrow ridge
than a hill, and the slopes. were steep on both sides.
Wild Bill was able to look downward to the plain that
lay beyond the foot of the farther side of the slope.

A man was coming across the plain and was drawing
close to the hill’s foot. .A ragged man he was, with
a stick over his shoulder. From the end of the stick
hung a handkerchief bundle.

But the man was white. Furthermore, he was on foot
and seemed unarmed in“that hostile country. It was
Indian country, and roving bands of Sioux were mostly
to be feared; but this tatterdemalion, it seemed, had a
white foe more implacable than any red enemy.

The man in the gray shirt, ready to fire from rest,
was waiting until the other man came close enough to
make rifle work double sure.

Suddenly Wild Bill saw a flexing of the muscles of
the hidden marksman’s right arm, a lowering of the
head to bring one eye in line with the sights—and then,
the man from Laramie lifted his own weapon and gave
a yell:

The total surprise, so far as the man in the gray shirt
was concerned, was ludicrous. He lifted his head, turned
on his knees, and a stone gave way under him and sent
him sprawling. The rifle clattered down on the rocks.

“Pilgrim,” called Wild Bill, with a grim laugh, “pull
yourself together and get on your feet. Let the Long
Tom stay on the rocks. You're the sort of a yap it’s safer
to talk with when you haven’t any exploding irons in
your hands.”

The man got up, scowling. Wild Bill’s rifle muzzle
followed his every movement.

“Who in blazes are you?” he demanded gruffly.

“Y’m from Laramie originally,’ explained the other,
“and Wild Bill Hickok is what they call me. I’ve been
scouting for Sioux, and was a whole lot surprised when
I saw your signal smoke and found it had been sent up
by a white man—a white with a bullet ready for another
white. Pretty low-down business, neighbor.”

“Anyhow,” flared the other, “it! s none of your busi-
ness.’

“Well, now!” drawled the Laramie man. “You can
count on me to butt in whenever a game of this kind
is going on, even though it isn’t any of my business. I
don’t like to see a white bowled over by another white.
Who are you?” :

“That’s nothing to you.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a whole lot to you. I’m going
to hold you here until that chap with the stick over his
shoulder gets to the top of the hill. Possibly he can
let in a little light on who you are.”

“Possibly,” returned the other, with a snarl like that
of a trapped wolf. ‘“You’re one of Buffalo Bill’s pards,
ain’t you?”

“Check! It gives me pleasure to inform you, or any
one else that wants to know, that Pard Cody is my
blanket mate and next best friend.”

 

+ AP tp AIL AG NAN 3 NE I an fe ae aan Sans ea cnn ot =
   

4 THE BUFFALO

“You've got another pard called Pawnee Bill, haven't
you?” . :

“Check again, pilgrim.”

“Where is Pawnee Bill?”

“When I started out on this scout he had last been
heard of in Cheyenne, working north. That was sev-
eral days ago, and like enough he’s at Custer by now.”

The man in the gray shirt thought over this informa-
tion, frowning heavily as he did so and casting wistful
looks in the direction of his rifle.

“T know you want it,’ remarked Wild Bill, with a low
laugh, “but don’t try to pick it up.”

The Laramie man could not see the ragged individual
with the bundle. He had passed out of sight under’ the
edge of the hill’s steep bank.

“What did you: say you were goin’ to do with me?”
asked the man under the gun muzzle.

“Take you to Custer.”

“Why pe

“So as to find out something about you. Now and then
a white cutthroat strays into these parts from the set-
tlements, preferring to take chances with hostile reds
rather than to face white men who happen to be officers
of the law. [ve a notion, just a notion, that you’re some
outlaw, and that the folks at Custer will be mighty glad
wher they see me bringing you in.”

“You'll never take me in,’ growled the other.

“I reckon you don’t savvy the situation like you'd
ought to. Whenever I set out to do a thing I generally

make good. For all I know, you may be White Wolf, '

the low-down renegade who's setting the Sioux on to
make trouble for the pony soldiers, and for the friends of
the pony soldiers, the Crows.”

Wild Bill watched the man’s face keenly as he spoke.

A glitter jumped into the white man’s eyes, then as
suddenly faded.

“You're shy a few,’ said he. “I know this White
Wolf, and he hasn’t been heard of in the Indian coun-
try for a month.”

“That's. correct,” agreed Wild Bill. “He hasn’t been
heard from, and it’s dollars to chalk marks he’s been

lying low, showing the Sioux how to dance the medicine
and getting the whole red bunch cocked and primed
for trouble.

“You say you're not White Wolf. Well, from what
I’ve seen of you I wouldn’t believe you under oath. You
look to me like a contemptible cur who’d just as soon
set the reds on against his own people as not.”

“You're mistaken.”

The man turned and peered over the edge of the
bank.

“Looking to see what progress that ragged stranger is
making, eh?” inquired Wild Bill.

“Ves,” was the answer, as the man drew back.

“Is he pretty near up the hill?”

“He'll be here in five minutes

Many times, in the course of his peril-sown career,
Wild Bill had been reached after by the unexpected and
floored with a big surprise.

That happened to him now. Some one dealt him a
blow on the head from behind. He staggered, caught
himself, and partly turned.

He had a glimpse of a Sioux warrior just drawing
back for another blow with a club. The club did not fall
a second time. The man in the gray shirt, finding the

39

 

BILL STORIES:

Laramie man’s back to him, leaped forward and struck
out with his clenched fist.

Wild Bill dropped his rifle and crumpled to his knees.
He saw the white man pick up the rifle and believed
that his own weapon was going to be used against him.
With a fierce effort he endeavored to draw one of the
army revolvers from a holster at his belt. Before the
weapon could be brought into play, the Indian’s club fell
again.

Wild Bill’s hands dropped nerveless at his sides and
he pitched forward at full length.

For a space he realized nothing; and then, tough as
whalebone and with an endurance like iron, he opened
his eyes, groped a moment for the lost chain of events,
and presently staggered to his feet.

Leaning against a boulder, he looked below dizzily.
The white man and the Indian were hustling into the
distance as fast as horseflesh could carry them. Fortu-
nately, although they had stripped the Laramie man of
his weapons and ammunition, they had not taken his
mount.

“By gorry,’ muttered Wild Bill, rubbing a hand across
his forehead, ‘‘but that was sudden! And I never sus-
pected that the whelp had a red helper along. A Sioux
helper at that

“Hello!” came a panting voice from behind the Lara-
mie man.

He turned to find the ragged individual with the stick
and the bandanna bundle, somewhat blown by his climb,
just seating himself on a boulder.

“What’s the good word, you of the red flashes and the
smoke fog?” went on the stranger.

‘I haven't any good words to describe the situation,”
answered Wild Bill fretfully; “and you’ve got a bean on
the wrong number if you think I was back of that green
wood and wet blanket work. And what do you mean by
‘red flashes,’ anyhow?’

 

CHAPTER iat
THE ABSAROKE CAMP,

The tramp looked puzzled.

_ “Tell me,” said he, “as one honorable stranger address-
ing another, is it a fact that you did not. send up those
smoke clouds?”

— “T did not,” answered Wild Bill.

“Then who did?”

vA tan in a gray shirt——”

The tramp bounded off the boulder with a yell.

“It can't be! By my sick sister’s seven cats! It can't
be the man in the gray shirt who has been lighting the
dark with the flashes and filling the day with the guiding
smoke ?”

Wild Bill gave the tramp a curious glance, then turned

and pointed toward the figures of the two receding horse-
men.

“There they go,” said he; “look for yourself.”

The tramp came to the Laramie man’s side, shaded his
eyes with his hand and peered after the fading figures.
They were too far away to distinguish their wearing
apparel, or even to make out that one was red and the
other white. \

sé 19.
Two of them!” murmured the tramp.

  

      
   

‘uicls

lees,
ved
11m.
the
the
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“That's the count, neighbor. The extra man is a red-

»skin, a Sioux.”

Wild Bill stepped to the wet blanket and kicked it
aside. Underneath could be seen a few sticks of charred
wood. j

“This was the fire,’ he explained, “and that’—he
pointed to the blanket—‘“‘was what was used in making
the signals.”

The Laramie man took off his sombrero and rubbed his
head tenderly.

He went on to explain how he had seen the smoke
signals from the other side of the hill and had investi-
gated, only to find a white man drawing a bead with a
rifle on the tramp. His interference, and the events that
quickly followed, were briefly set forth.

The tramp had dropped down on the boulder again
and was deep in thought.

“What's your label, ‘stranger?’ inquired Wild Bill.

“You ever heard of Saginaw, Mish?” asked the other.

“Seems to me I have.”

“Well, I’m the Sachem of Saginaw, and [’m a puzzled
Sachem, right at this minute.”

“Don't mire down over something that don’t concern
me until you turn on a little light regarding yourself,”
went on Wild Bill. “I’ve lost an arsenal and a supply
of ammunition over this, and it frets me to think that the
country is mainly hostile, clear to Custer, But you—
say, Sachem, you might as well talk straight to me.
What’s your real handle? Cut out the Sachem business
and give me the right of it.”

“My real appellation,” returned the Sachem,
keep under my hat, what is left of it.”

As he spoke, he took off his ragged
it a regretful glance.

“All right,’ said Wild Bill, “if you. don’t want to go
that far. There are a lot of people, in this man’s coun-
try, who're shy of real names. But what are you doing
in a hostile Injun country, on foot and without guns of
any kind?”

“T’ve been following the red flashes and the smoke
signals,’ was the mystifying answer. “I can’t understand
how it happens that the man in the gray shirt is work-
ing the signals.’’

“Who is he?”

“T don’t know. He has made several attempts on my
life. Know about the Tivoli in Cheyenne, Hank Beemer’s
piace **

“By gorry! I know it up and down and across, front
and rear, bottom and top.”

“Well, on the sidewalk in front of that place, four
days ago, this same man in the gray shirt tried to knife
me. A knight of the plains, by the name of Pawnee Bill,
interfered——’”’

“Whoosh!” exclaimed Wild Bill.
nee Bill?”

PSo he said.”

“Then it was my pard who saved you—my pard, who’s
expected soon at Custer.”

“Then you are Buffalo Bill?’ queried the Sachem, get-
ting up from his boulder and reaching out his hand.

“No such good luck, Sachem. I’m the other of the
three Bills, the one called ‘Wild.’ You may have heard

“PT shall

“slouch” and gave

 

“Was it really Paw-

of me in connection of Buffalo and Pawnee.”

Let us strike hands like comrades. I’m a
but I should be delighted if you

“T have.

tramp, Wild Bill,

Nn Nhe

HL BUR RAL

   

BILL STORIES. 7 . 5

would count me in on your combination as the scout’s
‘tramp pard.’”

“I’m not picking pards for the king of scouts,’ re-
turned Hickok, taking the tramp’s hand, ‘ “nor for myself,
until I know more about them than I do about you, Have
you said all you're going to say?”

“Except: this: if Buffalo Bill's at Fort Custer; I’m
going to Fort Custer, and if I can see the big high boy
himself, I will pour into his listening ear a tale that—
that will lift him out of his boots.”

“That’s a pretty good lift, so I take it that the tale’s
a wonder. If we reach the Little Big Horn in time for
a night’s camp, we'll have to be on the go. You haven‘t
any horse, so [’ll-double up with you on Spatterdash.”

The Sachem of Saginaw agreed to the arrangement
with relief and thanks. When they were mounted, Wild
Bill rose in his stirrups and cast a menacing look in the
direction taken by the man in the gray shirt and his red
ally.

“Some day,” he muttered, shaking his clenched fist,
“some fine day, when I have hardware in these empty
holsters, Vl meet up with you, my festive white rene-
gade, and with your red friend with the club. Until that
day, adios!”

Settling back into his saddle, he laid the straightest
course for the Little Big Horn.

“You couldn’t have walked ithis far from Cheyenne in
four days, Sachem,’ he remarked to his companion as
they rode.

“I fell in with a party of gold hunters, two days out
of Cheyenne,” was the answer, “and they gave me a
it’

“This country is full of gold hunters, all making for
the Black Hills. The opening of the Hills to prospectors
and diggers is what caused the massacre on the Little
Big Horn, and even now the trouble with the Sioux keeps
up. It’s a wonder, Sachem, some buck hasn’t got your
scalp drying in his tepee.’’

“T didn’t have any trouble, not a particle of trouble.”

“Not until you came so near stopping that white man’s
bullet. When did you leave the gold hunters?”

“Early this morning.”

“Why did you leave them? There’s safety in num-
bers, and it’s blamed poor riding that don’t beat walking
hands down.”

“T saw the smoke, and it indicated that I was to bear
due north instead of east by north. I left the gold hunt-
ers and followed the smoke.”

“Who did you think sent up the smoke?”

The Sachem remained silent.

“What are you following it for?”

No answer from the tramp.. Wild Bill gave over his
prying questions and set all his faculties on the Little
Big Horn.

Finally, just when a fringe of timber cut across the
vista that lay before them, the two travelers glimpsed
more smoke, rising in hazy spirals from the section of
wooded bottoms ‘that lay nearest them.

“By jings!” gasped the Sachem. ‘We'd better steer
clear of that timber, Wild Bill.”

“Not so, friend,” was the Laramie man’s response.
“All that smoke indicates boiling kettles and roasting
buffalo hump, and looks very pleasant to me.”

“But if the smoke comes from Sioux fires

“Which it don’t. The Sioux are not lighting fires in

39

 

Si et aac tht ae ns My aha

 
 

wie ALL rennet bp ele “Rata np ans ets ant scat lp A

    
 

THE BUFFALO

6 ge

these parts, just now. That’s either a cantonment of
pony soldiers from Custer or a camp of Crows. Either
way, Sachem, we'll find ourselves among friends.”

As they dipped down into the bottoms they ran into a
herd of feeding ponies guarded by red herd boys.

Two of the boys had shot intq the timber, presumn-
ably proceeding in the direction of the camp to inform
- the Crows that white men were coming.

When Wild Bill and the Sachem struck the first of a
dozen tepees, pitched in an open space in the timber
less than a stone’s throw from the water, they were met
by a deputation of half-famished and savage dogs. The
snapping curs were put to flight by three or four mus-
cular squaws with clubs, and half a dozen warriors is-
sued from among the brightly glowing fires to question
the newcomers.

It was a small band, judging from the number of the
tepees, but the band was well-armed, as the whites could
see with half an eye. ae

The Absaroke tribe was at. war with all the other
tribes of the Northern plains, but a peace was maintained
with the whites. ;

An old chief was among the warriors, and he stepped
close to Wild Bill.

“What you want, huh?’ he inquired, peering at. the
two men and noting that they were not armed. a

“We're white brothers and come in peace,’ answered
Wild Bill. “We are hungry and the horse is tired. We
want to stay a while with the Crows.”

The chief made a sign that they were to dismount.
As soon as they were on their feet, the chief spoke to
one of the other warriors, and the white men’s mount was
led away.

The chief led the visitors to the council.lodge, and a
pipe was brought. When they had whiffed the tobacco
for a few moments, the chief, piercing out his limited
English with the hand talk, asked the names of his guests.

_ The Sachem’s name had little interest for the chief,
but when Wild Bill told who he was a flicker of surprise
ran through the chief’s leathery face. :

Rawinning a hand into his medicine pouch he brought
out a folded paper.

“Pa-e-has-ka leave um paper talk,” said the chief
gravely. “Umbass-a-hoos give um to Pa-e-has-ka’s
Peewee

Here was another surprise for Wild Bill, and he caught
the paper eagerly out of the chief’s fingers.

wees

CHAPTER IV. a
THE MESSENGER.

The situation in the Indian country, at that time, was
very unsettled. The Sioux Nation, bitter over the loss
of their sacred country, the Pah-sap-pah, or Black Hills,
and forgetting the hard lesson dealt out to them on the
score of Custer and the Little Big Horn massacre, needed
only a firebrand to set their slumbering passions in a
blaze. .

At the various military posts the critical nature of the
situation was fully realized. It was a mocking commen-
tary on the progress of affairs that the white military
authorities were worrying more over the influence of
one of their own race\among the red men than over any-
thing the red men themselves were doing.

e

BILL STORIES.

Among the Sioux was a white renegade, and this
renegade was doing his utmost to foment an uprising.

Little was known concerning the white trouble maker.
It was said that he was a friend of Sitting Bull, and that,
in the old days, he had curried favor with the notorious
Rain-in-the-face, and other chiefs of lesser note. Rumors,
however, gave way to unqualified truth regarding the
white renegade’s nefarious activities. He was seeking,
by every means in his power, to muster the Sioux once
more against the whites. A few small outbreaks had
already been caused. 2

The renegade was called, by his savage allies, White
Wolf. That he was a human wolf the savage and cruel
stories about him amply testified.

Buffalo Bill and his pards had been summoned post-
haste from the Southwest to codperate with the military
authorities in capturing White Wolf. Apart from that,
the great influence of Buffalo Bill among the Sioux was
counted upon as a factor that would make for peace.

Business of a pressing nature had caused Pawnee Bill
to halt for a few days in Cheyenne. He was to rejoin
the scout as soon as possible at Fort Custer.

The baron, becoming involved in an affair of the heart
in Prescott, Arizona, had decided to turn his back on
Mars and give his immediate attentions to the shrine of
Venus. He was the only one of the pards who remained
in the Southwest.

Little Cayuse accompanied Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and
old Nomad to Fort Custer. .While waiting for Pawnee
Bill to join them, the other pards entered actively into
the work that lay before them.

They scouted far from the post, sometimes together,
sometimes separately, and sometimes with red Crow
scouts as followers.

Wild Bill, understanding that it was quite possible that
Buffalo Bill might easily have dropped in at the Crow
camp for a brief respite from his arduous saddle work,
had his feeling of surprise over the paper talk tempered
a little. :

Opening the paper, he read as follows:

“Witp Birt: A war party of Sioux is in this vicin-
ity. _I have picked up their signs half a dozen times,
and I have a notion that this war party is the personal
following of the trouble maker, White Wolf. Nomad
and I are hot after them in an attempt to find out their
number and where they have their rendezvous. On the
chance that you may drop in on Umbass-a-hoos—I know
you ought to be somewhere in the vicinity of his camp—
1 am leaving this letter for you. If you receive it, wait
in the Absaroke camp until you hear from me, or see
me. BuFFALO BILL.”

“That hits me plumb centre, chief,’ remarked Wild
Bill, folding up the letter and stowing it away in his
pocket. “When was Pa-e-has-ka here?”

“Last sleep,’ answered the chief.

“He left this morning?”

“Him make um ride so”—the chief waved his hand
voward the east—‘‘during sleep. Pa-e-has-ka heap big
brave. Him findum White Wolf make um heap sick.
Ugh!”

“Keno. You haven’t seen anything of any hostile Cut-
throats (Siou.r) or Cut-arms (Cheyennes) ?”

. NO see um, Laramie. Heap plenty like to see um.
Young Crows all same hungry for Cutthroat scalps.”

   

 

   
 

  
    

his

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at,
US
T'S,
the
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ad

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‘ut-

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eh

laying for you.”

the vapor from his pipe.

DA BUPEALO

, “Pa-e-has-ka’s orders are for me to stay with you
until he sends for me.”

“Wuh!” grunted the chief hospitably.
hoos give um Laramie and other brave tepee.

ess ac
You

‘come.’

The old chief put aside the peace pipe and conducted
his guests out of the council lodge and to another in the
centre of the camp.

The lodge was occupied, but Umbass-a-hoos routed out
the occupants unceremoniously and turned the place over
to Wild Bill and the Sachem.

Here the two white men were supplied with roasted
buffalo meat and soggy corn bread. They were hungry
and not overly fastidious, and they enjoyed the meal
thoroughly.

Following it, Wild Bill produced a pipe and a pouch
of tobacco.

“Go and borrow a pipe from Umbass-a-hoos, Sachem,”’
said he. “After you get the pipe I'll give you something
toy fll: it.”

“T am obliged to you, my generous friend,’ replied
the tramp, “but I have smoking materials. I never have
fallen so low in fortune that I can’t dig up a pipe and a
handful of the oh-be-joyful.”

“You're a queer sort of a tramp,’ remarked the Lara-
mie man, leaning back on the tepee robes and whiffing
“Your talk indicates that
you've seen better days.”

“So I have, friend—better and more prosperous days.
But I don’t want to ‘talk about that until I see Buffalo
Bilk”

“I suppose there’s
want ‘to tell me?’

“First, let me tell what's on my mind to Buffalo Bill,
himself.”

- The Laramie man was thoughtful for a few moments.

“You acted surprised, when we were on’ the top of
that hogback,:at the time I told you that the man in
the gray shirt had sent up the smoke signals and was

nothing about yourself hat, 4 you

+9

“T was surprised, yes,” returned the Sachem; “not be-
cause the man in the gray shirt was laying for me—he’s
been doing that right along, for some time—but because
he had sent up the smoke signals. A Friend has been
guiding me—and where is that friend now? The man
in the gray shirt is using my friend’s signals to lure me

to my doom. That 1 Is what puzzled me ‘and set my wits

at ‘stxes and sevens.’

“Vou have been gtiided for some time by the smoke
signals?”

“Ves, and by the flashes in the dark.”

“You never saw the friend that gave you the signals?’

"INO,

“Have you any notion who he might be °’

The Sachem of Saginaw was drawing at a disrepu-
table-looking cob pipe. He continued to draw passively
without answering Wild Bill’s question.

PE hats) tigi: “grunted the Laramie: man;
on the. important points,”

“Esteemed companion,”

hang fire

answered the tramp, “if 1

hang fire it is not because I do not appreciate what you

  

have done for me, but because I think it is best to re-
serve what little information I can give the king of
scouts.”

“T believe,’ said Wild Bill,
‘gray shirt is a friend of White Wolf's.”

 

“that this coyote in the

BIEL STORIES. Z

“The renegade who’s trying to stir up trouble among
the Sioux?”

The same:

“Why do you think that?’

“He had a Sioux buck with him, there on the hogback
—the first Sioux I’ve seen since Pard Cody and the
rest of us landed at Custer.”

“It may be,” mused the Sachem,
Wolf himself.”

“That’s what I told the whelp while we were company
front with each other. A light rose in his eyes when |
spoke, but it didn’t tell me much. If you couid give any
information at all about the man, possibly we could be
able to judge whether he is this White Wolf or fot.”:

Again the tramp hung fire. Wild Bill Stirred ‘rest-
lessly.

Pt looks to me like a fool proceeding,’ said the Lara-
mie man, ‘your following smoke signals straight into a
hostile Injun country, on foot, without knife or gun, and
not knowing where you were bound for.”

Puff, puff, puff from the Sachem of. Saginaw ;
and no other answer.

“Or what you were going to do when you got to where
you were going.”

The Sachem, evidently touched by the disgust in the
Laramie man’s voice; roused up and took a much: soiled
envelope from a pocket of ‘his ragged coat. .

“I’m going to show you something, noble benefactor,”
said he, ‘and when you read it you will understand why
I am so close-mouthed. Pass your eyes over that.”

He drew a folded sheet out of the envelope, and Wild
Bill took it and proceeded to scratch a match in order
to make a light for reading.

“that he’s the White

that,

“IT got that in a cow camp on the Sweetwater,” ex-
plained the Sachem.

Here is what the Laramie man read:

“SACHEM OF SAGINAW: Whenever you see three

clouds of smoke, or three gleams of light in the dark,
follow. Keep following, day by day and night by: night,
until you discover a man who writes this. He will tell
you something greatly to*° your interest, and show you
more. Above all, keep your moving about in strict con-
fidence. Everything may depend on that. .

“A.Man With A Purpose.”

Silently the Laramie man tossed away the burnt match
and handed the letter back.

“That letter,’ went on the tramp, “was pinned to the
door of the chuck house in the Sweetwater. Next day,
while I was peeling potatoes for the camp cook—chor-
ing around and earning my keep—I saw three spurts of
smoke. I dropped the potatoes and took after it; and
Il have been after it, and after the three flashes in the
dark, ever since. That’s going on two weeks, now.”

Wild Bill made no comment. Knocking the ashes -out
of his pipe, he unbuckled his belt, kicked off his boots,
and stretched himself out on the robes. a Tew minutes
later he was sound asleep.

He could not have slept more than two or three hours
when he was aroused by a husky voice in the dark tepee.
He started up to a sitting posture.

“Who's that?’ he demanded.

“Umbass-a-hoos,”’ answered the chief,

“What do you want, Umbass-a-hoos ?”

} ;
i kena: ech nip Aihae ine oh te aha Haake a Haifa, eo pace Sy
=a ali ca i i an hid sect tich s lnsd i

  
 

Week We aut ON ALS
 

   

8 THE BUFFALO

“White man come from Pa-e-has-ka. Him come heap
quick, want um palaver with Laramie.”

“Where is he?’
At that moment the tepee entrance was filled by a

dark figure silhouetted against the lighter background of
the onening.

“

CHAPTER V..
THE LONE PINE.

Buffalo Bill and old Nomad had ‘spent only a few hours
among the friendly tepees of Umbass-a-hoos. They had
rested and refreshed themselves and their mounts, had
left the letter for Wild Bill, and then fared away while
it was yet night.

They might have remained longer with the Crows but
for the fact that they had left_Little Cayuse watching
the spot where signs of the hostile were only a few hours
old.

It was sunrise when they rejoined the Piute.

The spot he had been watching was a pass between
two hills. At one end of the pass flowed the Little Big
Horn, and at the other end lay a small stretch of level
ground with hills bordering it to the east.

The boy had secreted himself and his pinto pony,
Navi, in a growth of alders, and he crept quickly out of
the thicket when he saw Buffalo Bill and Nomad.

The two pards dismounted and the scout dipped into
his war bag and brought out a piece of buffalo meat.

“Anything turn up here, Cayuse?” the scout asked.

“Nah, Pa-e-has-ka,” was the reply.

“We didn’t reckon thar would} son,” observed old
Nomad, “but we got ter do a lot o’ useless work, I reckon,
ef we spot them hosstyles. Ther pesky kentry ain’t much
good fer trackin’, an’ them red skunks make et er p int
ter blind their trail ev’ry few miles.”’

“There’s a lunch for you, Cayuse,” said the scout.

The little Piute took the meat and began devouring
it greedily. :

“No see um Injun, Pa-e-has-ka,’ remarked Cayuse be-
tween mouthfuls, “but me see um something else.”

“What else?”

“See um since sunup,’ was the reply.
come with Cayuse.” 4

Munching at the meat, the boy turned and walked be-
tween the hills, away from the river. When he had
reached the end of the pass, on that side, he pointed
across the little plateau to a hilltop, directly opposite the
place where he and the other two pards were standing.
“You see um hill?” he asked. ¥

“Ther hill with thet lone pine on ther top?” queried
the old trapper. :

AG?

UWilat Of ate:

“Watch um pine tree, watch um close.” .

The pine tree stood on the very top of the opposite
hill, shooting upward with not a branch for fully two-
thirds of its height.

“Jest er ordinary pine tree,’ mumbled Nomad,
kain’t see er blame’ thing ther matter with et.”

The scout, peering through half-closed lids and guard-
ing his eyes from the rays of the sun, believed he could
see something white.

**Pa-e-has-ka

of

BILL STORIES.

“T see a bit of white,” he announced, “halfway up the
tree trunk.”

“Ugh!” said Cayuse. “Him look all same white flag,
huh?”

“Maybe it’s a flag,” returned the scout.
something nature never put up there.”

(Right ye aire!” declared old Nomad: “I see ther
thing now, myself. Et’s er flag, shore as ye rea. foot
high—et’s wavin’ er leetle in ther wind. Waugh! How
d’ye reckin ther thing come thane:

“Tim not on tree last night,’ averred Little Cayuse.
“Me see um since last sleep.”

“Possibly it’s a signal of some sort,’ guessed the scout.

“Signal, Buffler? Who's signalin’, an’ fer why?’

“That’s something we shall have to find out.”

Old Nomad wagged his shaggy head.

“Sposin’ et’s er bunch 0’ Sioux ?” he suggested ;
“s’posin’ they stuck thet white rag onter ther tree knowin’
we'd see et an’ investigate? An’ then, s’posin’ thar’s er
slather o’ them layin’ fer us ef we come clost?”’

“There is sense in your talk, old pard,” answered the
scout. “If we find out what that white flag means, of
course we'll have to take chances. The ground, however,
doesn’t lay right for an ambush. The hill seems to be
rocky, but, if we keep our eyes peeled as we approach
it, we can show the Sioux, if there are too many of them,
just how we wear our back hair.” :
~ “Waugh!” chuckled the trapper. “Thet’s ther tork,
pard. We, Us, an’ Comp’ny ain’t showin’ ther white
flag jest bekase a bunch o’ Sioux aire doin’ ther same
thing.”
~ At this mild jest the trapper chuckled again and the
pards returned along the pass to the place where they
had left their horses. Cayuse brought Navi out of the
alders, and presently the three of them were galloping
toward the plateau, on the way to the opposite hill, the
lone pine, and the mysterious white flag.

They slackened pace as they came nearer the rocky side
of the hill, and scrutinized the rocks keenly, not only on
that particular hill slope biit on the adjacent slopes. They
saw nothing to arouse their apprehensions.

“Kain’t see er thing thet reminds me o’ Injuns,’ re-
marked Nomad. .

“No Injuns,” said Cayuse. ‘Wind him blow from hill,
sabe? Caballos smell um Injuns ifsany Injuns in rocks.
Ugh!”

“Correct, Cayuse,” said the scout approvingly. SOur
animals haven’t scented any reds, and our eyes haven't
shown us signs of any. We can bank on it that the
coast is clear, and go ahead.”

They road on, still vigilant yet feeling fairly easy over
the prospect.

The white flag came into clearer prominence as they
won closer to the base of the hill. It was not attached
to the tree, but to a rope that ran closely along the trunk
of the tree, and passed through a pulley attached to one
of the high branches.

as is queer and no mistake,’ muttered the scout,
peering around at the deserted locality in which this evi-
dence of human handiwork was flaunting itself.

‘No one in sight,” added Nomad, “an’ y:t thar must
be some un around as pulled ther flag up whar we see
et, ‘Ther fag wasn't thar at sundown, yisterday, so ¢t
must hev been h’isted durin’ ther night.”

“Wuh!” agreed Cayuse.

“Cértainly it’s

  

 
   

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The hill was too steep and rocky “for the horses, so
the animals were left in Cayuse’s charge while Buffalo
Bill'and Nomad started their explorations afoot.

Scrambling upward among the big stones, they arrived
finally at the foot of the tree. They saw, then, that the

_slender, strong cord that was used for the lanyard was

deuble, the flag being secured to one strand, making it
possible to pull it either up or down.

Furthermore; as the scout pointed out to N omad, the
two light ropes, at the foot of the tree, passed through
staples. These staples held the cords closely. against the
trunk. ;

At the foot of the tree, close to the lower staples, there
was a shallow, basinlike depression in the flinty earth,
partly covered by a flat stone. On a rough edge of this
flat stone was a bit of white cloth, evidently torn from
the flag.

“Snarlin’ catermounts!” growled old Nomad.
hyar’s er brain teaser, this is.”

“This flag raising,” remarked the scout,

‘eT has

“was secret

- work, Nick.”

“How d’ye mean, Buffer?”

“Why, the white cloth, when lowered, was tucked
under that flat stone. While hidden, in that way, it could
not have been seen by any one who passed close to the
pine and gave it a casual glance. Nor could the ropes
have been seen. They are a little weather-worn , and
are made to work up and down directly against the tree
trunk.”

“What’s ther reason fer all thet?”

“Give it up. There must have been a reason, however,
and a good one. The man who hoisted that white flag
wasn’t here when he did the work.”

Nomad removed his hat and ran his fingers through
his long hair in a puzzled way.

“How d’ye figger et?” he asked.

“When the flag was pulled out of that little cache,
Nick, it caught on the sharp corner of that flat stone.
lf the man who was hoisting the flag had been here, in
person, he would have loosened the flag with his hands.
As he didn’t do that, he pulled until he freed the flay
by tearing a piece out of it.”

“Blamed ef thet don’t sound as though ye had ther
right end o’ this quare purceedin’. Ef ther feller wasn’t
hyar, then whar was he 2”

“Our next step will be to locate him.”

“How ll we do et? Jest bushwhack eround ontil we
diskiver him ?’” . oo
3 “Why, no,”
ropes.”

The two ropes stretched away from the foot of the
tree, following a sort of groove among the rocks.
groove served the purpose of concealing the twin cords,
and it was evidence that it had been artfully improvised.
As the pards started to trace the cords to their farther
end, they suddenly halted: The cords had begun to jerk.

“Waugh!” exclaimed the startled trapper. “Ther fel-
ler’s at work now. Look at ther flag.”

-. The flag was violently shaken. It dropped a little and
was jerked back sharply, a dropped again and again
was jerked back.

“Wouldn’t thet rattle yore spurs 2” muttered Nomad.

“Let's get.to the end of the. ropes,’
“and we'll solve the riddle.”

the scout answered: “we'll follow the

 

‘THE BUFFALO

This.

said the scout,

For some twenty-five feet they followed the two cords,

 

BILL STORIES, 9

2

finally reaching a place where they vanished, seemingly,
into the rocky side of the hill.

“Up a stump er I’m er Chink!” exclaimed Nomad.

“Not exactly,’ returned the scout. “This way, Nick.”

He turned to the left and walked a couple of yards.
There he halted, confronted by a huge boulder. Here
there was some sand that had eddied into a sort of basin
at the base of the boulder, and in the sand could be seen
prints of moccasined feet, and of one foot that wore boots
and spurs.

The old trapper whistled.

“Now what d’ye think o’ thet!’ he mumbled. “Sioux
tracks, by thunder! An’ along with ’em is the footprint
of an Americano. Now Ms

“Lay hold here,’ said the scout, catching at the boulder.

Hardly understanding what Buffalo Bill was trying to
do, the trapper helped him with the big rock. It yielded
easily to their efforts, fell away from the stones, and re-
vealed a black opening in the hillside.

Nomad, far gone with astonishment, was sputtering
away in his usual fashion while the scout, going down
on his knees, struck a match and held it at arm’s length
in the darkness.

The next moment he gave vent to a muttered exclama-
tion and crawled on into the hole.

Nomad followed him.

 

CHAPTER. Vi.
THE PRISONER IN THE CAVE.

What Buffalo Bill saw, in the flickering light of the
match, was this:

Beyond the small circle of light stretched the dark con-
fines of a roomy cavern. A little to the right, on a bed of ~
pine needles covered-partly with a blanket, lay a man.
The man was lying on his face, or would have~been had
his head not been turned a little sideways. A stick was
tied between his jaws, effectively gagging him. His
hands were bound at his back, and his feet at the ankles.

With his bound hands the man was clutching a cord,
giving the cord a jerking motion evidently at much pain
and discomfort to himself.

Having seen so much, the astounded scout rolled into
the black den. "

“What's ter pay?” aNericd Nomad, tumbling after him.

“There's a man here,.‘Nick,” was the answer.

er man, hey & Then why don’t he say somethin’ ?”

“He's bound and gagged, and he can’t say anything.
Get a match to going so I can see to release him.”

Once inside the cave the scout found that he could
stand erect with plenty of head room. As Nomad struck
a match, the scout moved carefully to .the bound man’s
side and bent over, his bowie in his hand.

Taking the cord out of the man’s fingers, he carefully
severed the buckskin thongs that secured his wrists, then —
slashed at the fastenings of his feet.

The match went out in the trapper’s fingers, but the
freed prisoner could be heard lifting himself to a sitting
posture and evidently remowing the gag.

“Saved !’’ came his voice, in a husky whisper. “Saved,
just when I had all but given up hope! You are friends?”
he asked.

“Tf we weren’t friends,”

returned the scout, “we'd

   

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THE BUFFALO

IO

hardly have set you free. Then, we are white men. That
‘ought ‘to prove that we are friends.’

“Itswas a white man-who tied me and rolled the boul-
der into the opening. So there was one white man who
was‘not my friend. You saw the flag?”

aii Mes)? |

“My last hope! Andit won the day for me! Blessed
be the hour when I thought of that device. Light another
match, friends. You will find a candle on a ledge of
rock at the back of the cave.’

Nomad found the candle and lighted it. In the glow
that fought with the cave’s darkness, the released pris-
oner arose to his feet weakly.

- A. queer-looking creature he was, in all truth. His
body was misshapen, and his hands reached almost to
his knees. He was clad in greasy buckskins, and his
long, tawny hair swept his shoulders. He was a hunch-
back.

“It seems,” he said, in a high, piercing tone, as he
rubbed his: chafed wrists to restore circulation, “as
though I had been in torment here for a thousand years!
And yet it was only yesterday evening when I was cap-
tured and bound. I am a cripple,.as you see, and I
have little strength. The white man and his Indians had
little trouble in capturing’ me. When they bound me,
and rolled the stone before the door, they thought they
had sealed me in a living tomb.” He cackled sarcasti-
cally. “But I raised the flag on the pine—with my bound
hands I raised that flag on the pine. And -you saw it and
came to my rescue,”

_ He moved to the wall, his eyes glittering in the yellow
candlelight, pulled away a small stone, thrust his hand
into an aperture and drew out,a piece of jerked beef.
He fell to gnawing it ravenously.

The pards sat and watched him, from time to time
exchanging wondering glances.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he begged, his mouth half
full, “it has been forty-eight hours since I have touched
food. I need strength, strength for revenge, strength to
help Captain Hollis. Be patient, and presently I will
talk.”

The hunchback’s mention of Captain Hollis caused
the pards to again exchange glances. They had heard
of Captain Hollis at Custer—and it was not a pleasant
story.

Another hole in the wall, likewise guarded by a small
stone, yielded up a canteen of water. The hunchback
drank deeply. Then, from still another aperture, he
drew a bull’s-eye lantern, lighted it with the candle, and
set it on a ledge so that it would shine full in the face
of the scout.

“You have a good face, my friend,’ murmured the
dwarf, “a noble face. I feel that I can be frank with
you,”

“You can be as frank as you wish,” said the scout.
“I am Buffalo Bill, and this is my old pard, Nick No-
mad,”

“Buffalo Bill?” gasped the hunchback. ‘Buffalo. Bill?”

He stepped to the scout and seized one of his hands
in both his own.

“Heaven has indeed been kind to me,’ he went on.
“Buffalo Bill is the one man I have heard about whom I
could have wished to find and have rescue me—to help
me.”

Having gripped the scout’s hand fervently, the hunch-

BILL STORIES.

back sat down on the floor of the den. He was very
weak. Even at his best he could not have had any too
much strength, and it was plain that the erdeal through
which he had recently passed had worn on him cruelly,
He leaned back for a few moments, breathing heavily,

“T have no strength at all,’ said he, in his shrill voice.
“Nature collected heavy toll of me when™she broke my
back and gave me a twisted body. But I am not utterly
powerless. There is still work for me to do in this
world.”

“Who are you?” queried the scout.

“Crooked Ben,” was the reply, with a bitter laugh.
“The name fits, eh? There’s nothing like having a name
that fits. The beauty of that name is this, Buffalo Bill:
Whenever it is spoken it serves to remind me of my
deformity.” ea

“How long have you lived in this place?” queried the
scout, casting a wondering eye over the housekeeping
appointments of. the den. .

“Since the wagons were destroyed, and ‘since those
with the wagons were slain by the Sioux. It was not
long after the Custer massacre. I keep little track of
time, as time goes.”

“Why do you stay in such a place, surrounded, as it
is, with hostile Indians and ‘renegade whites?”

“There is none in this wilderness to jeer at me, or
mock me because of my twisted body. I am going to
show you where the wagons were burned, Buffalo Bill. [
will show you the place where I buried the emigrants—
there were six of them, and two were women and one a
mere child. I will show you the grave of the driver of one
of the wagons, a man who had done freighting for the
troops at Custer fort, a man whose last breath did much
to set fair and right his evil past life.”

“Wait a little,” interposed the scout kindly. “Tell us
something about yourself; Ben.”

“The life of a hermit is uneventful. Nothing has hap-
pened to me since the wagons were burned, until two
weeks ago, when [ left the hill to hunt for the Sachem.
and to guide him here.”

A mournful note crept into the hunchback’s. voice as
he added:

“I wonder, now, what has become of the Sachem? —1
gttided him close, almost to the end of his journey, and
there the white ruffian and the Sioux at his back saw
me and gave chase. I rode like the wind for my re-
treat, but they tracked me like-bloodhounds. They found
me here, and they tied me and gagged me and left me
to die!” His voice grew mocking. “But the white flag
saved me! Buffalo Bill and old Nomad saw the white
flag and came to my relief.”

The scout’s impression was that the hunchback was
daft. He had lived so long like an animal in that den,
far from human beings, that his mind had become un-
hinged.

“No, no, Buffalo Bill,” cried the hunchback, seeming
to read the scout’s thoughts, “I’m not a madman. My
reason 1s as sttong as ever. You think I'am crazy be-
cause you do not know all, but I shalt tell you, and you

will help me. I have tried to do a little good alone, but
I am not strong enough.” oe Bus

“If you have something to tell us, Ben,” said the scout,
“get at it logically.”

“In other words,” took up the hunchback, “begin at
!

the beginning! Well, that is what I intend te do: = |

  
  

   
  

 
  
 

 
 
  
  

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THE BUFFALO

could begin at the wagons, but perhaps I had better
begin with Captain Hollis.” He paused and searched
the scout’s face furtively. “You have been to Fort zee
ter?” he inquired.

“Ves, 3)

“Perhaps you heard something about Captain Hollis?”

“T heard that he had quarrelel, months ago, with a
Lieutenant Eldridge over a game of cards, that he had
shot and killed Eldridge, and had then escaped from the
guardhouse.”

“That is the-story as it is generally believed, but Cap-
tain Hollis was an officer and a gentleman, and his name
and fame have been blackened. The shooting of Eldridge
was done by another—and this I can prove.”

“It makes little difference what you can prove, Ben,”
said the scout, “for Hollis has disappeared. It is common

report that he made way with himself because of his-

disgrace.”
“Even so, Buffalo Bill, is it not something to set even

“a dead man ‘right with the world? To clear his name, for

the benefit of his family, if not for his-own? Tee ky
Nomad gave a yell and reached for his revolver. . Soft
feet had patted down at the entrance to the cavern and

_a tawny wild cat, the muscles ruffling under its sleek

skin, had started to enter, only to draw back, spitting
and snarling, its glaring eyes on the old trapper.

“No, no!” screamed the hunchback, throwing himself
‘on Nomad and jerking away the revolver.

CHAPTER VII.
QUEER REVEDATION S:.

“Br-r-r!” growled the old trapper. “I ain’t er-goin’
ter set hyar an’ let thet animile claw me up. Et’s ther

biggest cat I ever seen; an’ he ain’t haulin’ back none,

but seems detarmined ter come right in.”

“Hell not: harm. you!’ cried Crooked Ben. “‘This
was his den before I took it for my own. I was a whole
month making friends with him, and it has been three
weeks since I left here, and since he has seen me. Sit
quiet, and watch.”

Nomad drew back a little farther from the entrance.

“Wah-loo!” crooned the hunchback.

The wild cat had been lashing its tail from side to
side, its pointed ears laid back angrily. At the sound
of the hunchback’s voice it slunk down, dragging its body
along the rock and crawling slowly into the cave. To the
hunchback’s side it crept, lay down, and began purring

« contentedly under the man’s caressing hand.

“You see?” laughed Crooked Ben. “This animal has
been my only friend ‘for months. Together we have
shared this hole in the rocks. If I were straight as you,
if my body were perfect, this brute could not have been
more loyal. Four-footed animals are not like the animals
who call themselves human, for they do not jeer or taunt
the unfortunate. Wah-loo,’ he whispered, bending over.

The big cat partly rose and rubbed its head against
the hunchback’s face.

“Ye’re a good deal ‘of /er animile trainer, Crooked
Ben,” observed Nomad.

“T have succeeded in making a pet of Wah-loo.”

“Waal, don’t let Wah-loo come eround whar Iam. I.

hate cats an’ painters.”

 

 

   

 

BILL. STORIES. ai

    
 

Crooked Ben laughed his queer, high-pitched laugh.
“Buffalo Bill,” he asked, “will you and Nomad go with
me now to the place where the wagons were destroyed?”
“Yes, if there is anything there you think we ought

to see,” the scout answered.

“T’m*willin’ enough ter git out of er place whar thar’s
er loose wild cat,’ said Nomad, and began crawling
through the entrance into the broad daylight.

The scout followed him, and last came the hunchback
with the cat fawning at his feet. .

“We will go over the hill,” said Crooked Ben?

“Wait a minute,’ returned the scout. ~“‘One of our
pards is below with the horses. [ll let him know that all
is well with us.”

The scout made his way to the tree and hailed Little
Cayuse.

“Wait for us, Cayuse,’ he called, as the Piute looked
up. “Everything's all right up here, and we'll be with
you before long.”

Cayuse waved his ane to signify that he understood.
Buffalo Bill returned to Nomad and Crooked Ben, and
they began climbing the rocks toward the crest of the
hill. The cat, keeping close to the hunchback, bounded
from boulder to boulder.

The scout was deeply interested in Crooked Ben. The
hunchback was a strange character, but there seemed to ©
be a lot of method in his madness—if madness it was.

The descent on the other side of the hill was quickly
made, and the three men found themselves in a narrow _
valley between the uplifts.

“There are the wagons,’
“all that’s left. of them,”

There were round, rusty tires and scraps of iron, half
buried in the sand that had drifted over them.

“There were three wagons in the train,’ explained the
hunchback, “and they were passing through the Indian
country bound for the Yellowstone. They thought they
had safely left the Sioux behind, and that they were in
the land of the friendly Crows. Then, without warning,
the Sioux poured down upon them from both sides of the
valley.” :

A look of anguish crossed the face of Crooked Ben.

“T wish I could forget the cries of the women,” said
he, “and the last groans of the men; but I shall hear
them in my sleep till my dying day.”

“Where were you, at the time?” asked the scout.

“T was traveling. to the Yellowstone in one of the
wagons,’ was the answer. “The Sioux spared me be-
eause they thought | was not human. At least, I° sup-
pose that was the reason. I jumped from one of the
wagons and ran up this hill. Not a bullet was fired at
me. I howled and danced, like a demon, as I climbed.
That had its effect on their savage minds, no doubt.
When I crossed. the crest I found that hole in the rocks,
and the cave. There I stayed until thirst and hunger
drove me out.: I went to Custer and carried the news
of the lost wagon train—but not until I had cared for
the victims of the massacre.”

He indicated six mounds,
structed cross at its head. ,

“That # my work,’ he finished. “Weak as I am,
friends, I did it all. There was one man alive—Cum-
mings, the driver. He was scalped and dying, and I could
not save him, but he had strength to tell me about Cap-
tain Hollis and about Sergeant Blix. Did you hear any-

’

said Crooked Ben, pointing,

each with a rudely con-

 

 
   

12 THE BUFFALO

thing about Sergeant Blix at the fort?’ he added, turn-
ing on the scout. 2

Buffalo Bill shook his head.

“I suppose not, I suppose not,” murmured Crooked
Ben. “That mound at the end is where I put Cum-
mings.”

' He sat down on a boulder.

“IT carried the news to Custer, as I told you,’ he went
on. “The disappearance of Captain Hollis was compara-
tively fresh in the minds of the officers and men at the
post, at that time. I got one of the officers to tell it to
me, and my blood boiled because of what Cummings had
said regarding Blix and Lieutenant Eldridge. I had
saved a little gold—not much, but a little—and I hired a
hanger-on at the post to go looking for the Sachem. [I
gave him money, and I promised him more if he Idcated
the Sachem and brought me word where I could find
him, After that I bought a horse, and some provisions
and firearms, and came back to that cave. I remained
there, waiting to hear about the Sachem; but, if I never
heard, I had made up my mind to spend the rest of my
days in that hole in the rocks. The world is an unkind
place for such as I. Even at the post, when I had brought
news of the massacre of the emigrants, the soldiers
flouted me.”

“Some men are brutes,” said the scout quietly. “Don’t
blame all men for what a few men do, Ben.”

“Rather than face the few I will renounce all, Buf-
falo Bill,” returned the hunchback. “After months of
waiting, the man I had hired to look up the Sachem came
to Lone Tree Hill. He told me that the Sachem was in
a cattle camp, far away on the Sweetwater. That was
nearly a month ago. I took my dark lantern, my re-
_ volvers and ammunition and my horse and went to the
Sweetwater. But I would not show myself in the cattle
camp, so I wrote a note for the Sachem and pinned it at
night on the door of the chuck shanty. In that note I told
the Sachem to follow the three flashes by night and the
three clouds of smoke by day. In that manner, I guided
him to Cheyenne, through Cheyenne and north toward
the Little Big Horn.

“IT was mounted, and he was on foot for most of the
journey, so I kept ahead of the Sachem and out of sight.
After leaving Cheyenne he fell in with some gold hunters
and they gave him a lift. At the right time I took him
away from the gold hunters. I kindled my last fire yes-
terday morning, not far from the Little Big Horn, and
it was then that the white renegade and his Sioux saw me.
and gave chase. 1 was compelled, at the peril of my
life, to abandon the Sachem. You have heard how the
white man and the Sioux trailed me to my lair, and you
saw what they did.

“That white flag I contrived for the purpose of sig-
naling the man who was to bring me news of the Sachem.
When that was done, I still left the ropes and the flag
in place, ready for use. Well for me that I did. Eh,
Wah-loo?” and, with that, the queer hunchback fell to
stroking the big cat.

“Who is this man you call the Sachem?” asked the
scout.

Crooked Ben lifted his head quickly and gave Buffalo
Bill a startled look. He started to answer, hesitated, and
then, after a moment, spoke.

“He calls himself the Sachem of Saginaw, Buffalo Bill.
He is a tramp, but he is a friend of Captain Hollis and

BLL STORIES.

a

is always looking for evidence to clear the captain's
name.’

“It was rather foolish to use all that claptrap in get-
ting the Sachem to your cave. Why was it necessary to
bring him to the cave at all? Couldn’t you have told
him all you had to tell, there on the Sweetwater ?”

“T wanted him to see the destroyed wagons, what was
left of them, and the six mounds,” answered Crooked
Ben.

“That wasn’t necessary, was it?”

“T wanted to tell him everything, right here.”’

“Then why didn’t you talk with him on the Sweetwater
and have him come here with you? What was the use
of guiding him on by means of lantern flashes and smoke
signals?”

‘“T was afraid of Blix.”

OQECBHX ?”

“Yes, of Sergeant Blix. I have Cummings’ story in
black and white, signed by himself and witnessed by me.
Hollis did quarrel with Eldridge at the officers’ mess, at
the post, and there was bad blood between the captain
and the lieutenant. That night the lieutenant heard some
one at his window. He got up to investigate, and a bul-
let struck him as he raised the window to look out. A
revolver, identified as belonging to Captain Hollis, was
found under the window m

“And the captain was seen by a sentry running toward
his quarters from Eldridge’s house,’ added the scout.

“Yes, that is true. But Sergeant Blix fired the shot.
He had been reprimanded by Hollis for some breach of
duty, and also by Eldridge. Blix hated them both, and
Blix knew that he was about to lose his sergeant’s stripes.
He felt that he could get even with both men, so he stole
Hollis’ revolver, did the shooting, and left the weapon
under the window m

“But Hollis was seen running away from Eldridge’s
house, directly after the shot!”

“Cummings called Hollis fromhis sleeping quarters on
the pretext that he had something of importance to tell
him. Cummings had been hired by Blix to play the part,
and Cummings purposely led Hollis toward Eldridge’s
house. When the shooting was heard, Cummings
promptly took to his heels, got past the sentry in the con-
fusion, and left Hollis to bear the brunt of everything.
As for Blix, he sneaked back to his quarters, and no one
knew that he had not been there all night long. A month
afterward, Blix deserted. Where he is now, no one
knows. He was a murderous scoundrel, at best, and will
probably reap the reward of his evil life, somewhere and
somehow. As for Cummings, he was only a freighter
at the post, and his going away excited no comment.
Hollis told how Cummings had called him from. his
house, but no one believed the story. Some even said that

Flollis had hired Cummings to disappear so that he could
not be called as a witness.”

These were queer revelations that Crooked Ben was
making, but somehow, in spite of his indirect way of man-

aging matters with the Sachem, what he said had the ring
of truth.

“All this,” declared the scout, “should be laid before
the commandant at Fort Custer.”

“I want to lay it before the Sachem,” answered the
hunchback. “He can use the information better than |
can. All I ask of you, Buffalo Bill, is to help me find
the Sachem. Later, if you will, we can hunt for the

 

 

 
  
  

Dar Oy a | Ie GP 1 ee oe OE GOP

 

THE BUFFALO

man in the gray flannel shirt who led the Sioux against
me and i

“‘Tust now, Ben,” interrupted the scout, “I am engaged
in important work. Later, when that work is finished,
t 59 i

Three distant shots rang out faintly. They were re-
volyer shots and came from over the hill.

“That’s Cayuse, Buffer!’ whooped old Nomad. “He's
hevin’ trouble! Mebbeso ther Sioux aire comin’ back
hyar!

Old Nomad leaped up the hill with all his speed. The
scout, startled and apprehensive, made after him.

Crooked Ben, fully as interested in the proceedings

 

 

‘as were the pards, started up from the boulder and be-

gan climbing. Wah-loo bounded along at his. side.

 

CHAPTER Vitk
AT OCLEAR TRALEY

Buffalo Bill had been allowed but little time to think
over the revelations made by the hunchback. No doubt
they were of the utmost importance to the friends of
Captain Hollis,-as tending: to show—perhaps not very
conclusively—the captain’s innocence. The scout had
thought, just before he was startled by the shots from
over the hill, that he would himself take the matter up
with the commandant at Custer. But those sudden re-
ports, presaging danger for Little Cayuse, drove Hollis

and his troubles out of the scout’s mind for the time.

From the top of the hill the Piute could be seen, dis-
mounted, the horses behind him, standing his ground with
a revolver in his hand. He was facing the rocky slope
of another hill that was immediately north of the one on
which the scout and Nomad were standing.

“Cayuse has beat off ther pizen reds!” exclaimed old
Nomad. “Thar ain’t one of ’em in sight.”

The scout yelled and waved his hand encouragingly.
Cayuse, perfectly self-possessed as he always was in time
of stress and danger, looked up and gave an answering
wave with the glittering revolver.

The pards hurried on in a scrambling descent toward
their horses and the boy. When they reached the foot of
the slope, the hunchback and his wild cat were not far
behind them.

Cayuse cast a quick glance at Crooked Ben. His face
was passive, and what he thought of Crooked Ben and
Wah-loo did not appear.

“What's ther trouble, son?” demanded the trapper.

“See um Sioux,” was the sententious response,

“How many?”

‘one’

“What did they pizen whelp try ter do?”

“Him gallop out on cayuse, gallop back when me make
um shoot.”

“Where did he go, Cayuse?” asked the scout.

“Make um run between hills,” and Cayuse indicated
the narrow strip of gully that separated the two hills

one from the other. : :

“Thet means er cl’ar trail, pards!”’ exulted Nomad,
leaping into his saddle. “Fust time we've got so clost ter
one o’ ther Sioux sence we left Custer on this hyar scout.”

The scout, hand on bridle and foot in stirrup, paused
to look at the hunchback.

“We can’t leave you here, Ben,” said he, ‘Where’s
your horse?”

 

BILL STORIES. 13

“T suppose the white renegade and his Sioux followers
took the horse,” replied the hunchback.

“Then get up behind me and we'll clear out.”

But Ben held back.

“Tl only hamper you,” he answered, “for you'll have
to tide fast and maybe far. I'll stay here with Wah-loo.”

“But if that white renegade and the Sioux should come
back?”

“They wouldn’t find me,” cackled Crooked Bene tll
dodge ’*em—Wah-loo and I will dodge ‘em. We know
other places in these hills where we can hide. Eh, Wah-

AOOL

The big cat arched its back and rubbed against the
hunchback’s leg.

“T think you’d better go with us, Ben,” insisted the
scout. ‘I hate to leave you here.” ;
“T can take care of myself, Buffalo Bill,” answered the
hunchback firmly. ‘‘I want you to overhaul that Indian.
He may be one of the band that set upon me and made
me a prisoner in the cave. If he is, then the white rene-
gade in the gray flannel shirt is with the main party
of the Sioux, and perhaps you can catch the scoundrel.”

There was no time to waste in useless colloquy, so the
scout flung a leg over the saddle and spurred swiftly
away. Nomad and Cayuse were already in the gully
between the hills. ‘The scout was alongside his pards
at the farther end of the gully.

A valley lay before them in a straightaway stretch of
perhaps half a mile. Well along the valley the Sioux
could be seen, leaning over his pony’s neck and using the
quirt furiously.

“Thar goes ther pizen critter!” yelped old Nomad.
“THe’s hittin’ ther breeze fer all he’s wuth. ‘Looks as
though he had a purty good idee 0’ what's behind him.”

“We'll have him,” answered the scout grimly, “if this
good running ground stays with us.”

At every leap the mounts of the three pards gained
on the fleeing Indian cayuse.

They were almost within shooting distance when, near
the lower end of the valley, the Sioux turned his pony

and darted from sight through a gap in the valley bank.

-“Thet twist won’t save him,” roared the old trapper,
his blood up; “we're too close ter him fer him ter git
away.”

The old trapper’s view was the one the scout held. The
trail was not so clear, but it was still promising.

With Bear Paw, the scout’s war horse, slightly in the
lead, the pards whirled through the gap, only to ‘find
that the break in the valley was not a gap but the en- |
trance to a cafion.

From a defile with low, sloping sides the walls arose
steeper and steeper and constantly increasing in height.

They could see nothing of the fleeing redskin, but the
cafion had many a crook, so that the Sioux, if he was a
little way in advance, could keep himself out of sight.

“Waugh!” rumbled the trapper, “we're goin’ three feet
ter thet varmint’s one! Et kain’t be long till we’re right
on top o’ him.” <

From time to time Little Cayuse lowered his eyes to
the ground over which he was speeding. His face did not
reflect the sanguine feelings of the old trapper ; but then,
the Piute’s face rarely reflected his thoughts. He con-
tinued to watch the rocky ground as it rolled away from
under him, but he could see no sign of the passing hoofs
of the Indian’s cayuse.

  
 

1A | ' THE BUFFALO

~Presently a bend in the cafion brought the pards face
to face with a serious problem. In front of them, clos-
ing the cafion completely, was a sheer wall of rock.

They drew rein at the foot of the blank wall and stared
at-each other.’ That defile was a box cafion, a cul-de-sac.
They had traversed it from entrance to end, and they had
not seen the Sioux. Wht had become of him?

“Oh, sufferin’ sidewinders! howled old Nomad. “He’s
gone an’ took an’ shifted ther cut on us! He didn’t.come
down ther cafion at all, Buffler!’.

“That’s an easy guess,’ answered the scout, with a
grim laugh, “now that we’ve been through this blind
gash without finding him. A good chance gone, Nick.”

“We kin git back ter ther entrance an’ pick up his trail,
pard,” fumed Nomad, vastly chagrined.

“Picking up his trail is out of the question. That
red knows more about the lay of the land than we do,
and he’s probably a long way off over hard ground, by

now.” . :

““Mebbeso him go back to lone pine tree,’ suggested
Cayuse, “ketch um» little man with wild cat.”

“Ther leetle man with-ther wild cat’ll hev ter take
his medicine, ef thet’s ther case,’ scowled Nomad. ‘“Buf-
fler tried ter git him ter come with us,-but et wasn’t no
go. Anyways, thar’s no use coolin’ our heels at the foot
0’ this hyar blind wall. Let’s mosey back, er else look

~fer a place whar we kin git over ther rim rock.”

They rode back slowly, scanning the cliffs on each °

side of them as they went. There was absolutely no place
where a man on foot could scale the walls, say nothing
of getting over the rim rock with a horse.

“We'll ‘have to go back to the entrance, Nick,” de-
clared the scout. “That will take us out of the cafion
even if it don’t give us a chance at the .

A rifle suddenly exploded on the top of the right-
hand wall and a bullet dropped downward and pecked
~-at the rocks directly in front of, Hide-rack, the trapper’s
horse.

“He’s up top o’ ther cliff!” yelled Nomad, lifting his
eyes to the crest of the wall.

“What the pards saw, just then, was enough to cause
even their stout hearts to quail. Feathered heads were
visible all along the rim rock on both sides; and, in front
of each head, was a glittering rifle barrel.

Bang! went a gun on the left.

The bullet barely stung Bear Paw’s neck, and the
gallant black rose on his hind feet with a gnort and flung
himself sideways.

Bang! bang! bang! roared the guns from both sides.

It was a drop fire and dangerous in the extreme. Buf-
falo’ Bill, always, quick to act in an emergency, was not
slow in rising to this desperate situation.

“This way, pards!’’ he shouted, heading Bear Paw to-
ward the left-hand wall.

A little ridge ran out from the wall and the pards rode
in behind it. The bullets from above tickled their horses’
feet as they went, and they went quickly.

 

 

’CHAPTER: EX:
AT BAY IN THE CANON. :

Although the scout had had little time to select a
refuge, out of the few places in the cafion that offered
shelter his quick wit had selected the best.

BILL STORIES.

The ridge, after jutting out from the left-hand wall,
described a slight curve and then followed the wall for

~ perhaps twenty feet, leaving a space between it and the

cliff some ten feet wide.
The ridge was high enough to protect the pards and
their horses from bullets that were fired from the top

of the right-hand bank; and from the top of/the left-hand |

bank the Indians could not depress their guns sufficiently
to reach those below. ; A

Slap, slap, slap! came the lead on the opposite side of

the ridge. The bullets tinkled musically as they struck
the granite and glanced.
_ “Blaze away, ye onnery coyotes!’’ shouted the trapper.
“Ye kain’t git us onless ye can put er ball through six
feet o’ solid rock, er send one eround a corner. Oh, [
reckon this ain’t so bad, Buffler.”-

“Tt’s bad enough, old pard,” returned the scout gravely.

“They kain’t tech us.”

“Not so long as we stay behind this ridge.”

Nomad slipped off Hide-rack’s back.

“Then let’s make ourselves plumb ter home, Buffler,’
said he.

“We'll have to do that, of course,” returned the scout,
“but this place won’t be much of a home for us when
thirst and hunger drive us out.”

“Mebbeso somethin’ll happen before thet.”’
~“"T hope so.”

While the glancing bullets snarled and whined against
the; rocks, Buffalo Bill slipped clear of his saddle and
looked at the trickle of red on Bear Paw’s neck.

“Much of er hurt?” queried Nomad.

“Just a scratch,” answered the scout.

“Ther way B’ar Paw went up inter the air an’ danced
eround on his hind toes, Buffler, I reckoned et mout be
purty serious.” ;

Leaving Bear Paw, the scout surveyed the narrow
limits of their refuge. There were twenty feet by ten
of a clear space back of the ridge. This was the safety
zone, and to venture beyond it meant destruction.

“We ain’t got much room ter mosey eround, pard,” said
Nomad.

“Not much, that’s a fact. This whole scheme, Nick, is
beginning to look like a frame-up, to me.”

“Frame-up ?”

“Yes. The Indian who ran through the gully between
the hills and showed himself to Cayuse was playing a
part.”

“I kain’t savvy yit, me no cumtux.”

“The Sioux, in some way,” explained the scout, “knew
we were at Lone Tree Hill. The lay of the ground in
that locality didn’t appeal to them as the right place
for a fight, so they got on top of these cliffs and sent
the buck on the horse to lure us into the cafion:”

“Waugh! D’ye reckon thet’s what they done?”

“What's happened to us proves it. Eh, Cayuse?”

“Wuh!” answered the Piute gloomily.

“Snarlin’ hyeners!” growled the old trapper, in great

disgust. “Et’s demoralizin’ ter git ketched in sich er
way.”

“We've found the hostile Sioux we were looking for,
but they’ve got us bottled up—for a while.”

“Fer a while, Buffler? What d’ye mean by thet 2?”

“Why, when night comes I reckon they’ll have their
hands full keeping us here. Under cover of the dark we

 
   

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THE BUFFALO

may be able to slip past them, down the cafion, and get

back into that straightaway valley.”

“Shore we kin!” BeScttCe Nomad. “We kin do et
too easy fer any use.’
“Meanwhile,” went on the scout, “there are several
Hours between us and dew fall, and we've got to see to
it that ms reds don’t charge us along the bottom of the
cafion.”
_ He pulled the rifle out of its case under his saddle
leather and crept to the end of the ridge. -As he peered
cautiously out, a bullet came from the top of the right-
hand wall and made a neat hole through the crown of his
hat.

Removing the hat, he Bag ‘it behind him and con-
tinued to reconnoiter. Pelee ioe ae

The redskins were showing themselves freely ¢ on top of
the opposite cliff, ae

The scout, stepping quickly into full view around the
end of the ridge, flung his rifle to his, shoulder and. pulled
trigger.

The roar of the gun hori between the wall S.
and its echoes were taken up by fierce yells and a volley
from. the cliff top. :

“But the.scout was back again before fue redskins could.

concentrate their fire upon him:

It was a reckless move, but: there’ was one red enemy
the less to face the beleaguered pards.

“Blamed ef thet wasn’t neat!” applauded the admiring
trapper. “I reckon I'll try et on, myself.’

_Rifle in hand he started toward the end-of-the ridge,
but the scout caught his arm and pulled him back.

“That move might win once in a while, Nick,” said he,
“Keep back.

“T hate ter be bottled up without lettin’ °em know I’m
able ter fight,” spluttered Nomad. i.

“T reckon that shot will prove that we’re to i handled
with care, Nick,” the scout answered.

“Nothin’ ter do till night,” grumbled the trapper, an’
et seems like night was a week off.” .

“Tt will come quick enough. Cayuse, watch the en-
trance to this niche. Keep well inside the entrance and
tell us if any of the Indians are showing themselves in
the bottom of the cafion.”

“Wah,” answered Cayuse, and moved to his post.

“I didn’t see anything of a white man among the reds,”
the scout went on, to Nomad. “He may have been on
the other wall of the cafion, however,” he added.

“D’ye reckon this is the outfit thet tied up Crooked
Ben an’ corked him tight in thet cave 0” his?”

ait may. be.”

“Who d’ye reckon thet white renegade is?

“Ata guess I should say he is W hite Wolf,”

“Waugh! We seem ter be findin’ everybody we went
lookin’ fer.. But we ain’t findin’ ‘em m ther right way.
What: we ort ter hev, ter corral this bunch 0’ hosstyles,

 

Be ramen oA a ai Cl RS SDIS Ea Noses SOD NE NA TL AAS oe Sage et RT

 

BIL: STORIES. | is

is a comp’ny 0’ pony sogers.
aire of ’em, Buffler?”’

“Twenty-five or fa

‘An’ thar’s three ous!) Phet White Wolf. ain't got
much confidence in his reds ef he was afeard ter Dene
‘em aginst us at Lone Tree Hill.”

The scout was thoughtful for a while. Nomad had to

talk, however, and started in on Crooked Ben.

“What d’ye think o’ thet yarn Crooked Ben told. us
erbout Cap’n Hollis?” he inquired,

“IT. think Crooked Ben told the truth.’

“An’ thet Hollis didn’t kill Eldridge?”

“I don’t think the story told by Cummings, the
freighter, would entirely offset the evidence against Hol-
WS Fire Ss E 7 a
“Ner I don’t, nuther. This feller Blix ort ter be
tounds Thet ’u’d help prove Hollis’ case.”

“But Blix has disappeared, just as Hollis has van-
ished. There has been no news. oe either of them since
they left the post, months ago.”

“TL ogot: er idee, Bufiler,” ‘remarked Nomad.

“What is it?” :

“Why, Crooked Ben is cunnin’. He torks kinder bug-
house, but he’s got his brains right with him all ther
time. Thet’s my notion. He ain’t nobody’s fool.”

“T agree with you there,”

“Waal, Pll gamble my dot thet the feller he calls
the Sachem is this hyar Blix.”

“What makes you. think that >”

“Nothin’. Et’s only jest er notion, as I said. Crooked
Ben didn’t show himself ter thet. Sachem, an’ when ye
asked him why he fooled with a dark lantern an’ smoke
signals in gittin’ the Sachem ter Lone Tree Hill, Ben jest
allowed thet he was afeard o’ Blix. Mebbeso thet means
thet ther Sachem is Blix. What d’ye think?”

“Tt’s all guesswork, Nick, and not very clear guess-

work, at that.”
_ The hours dragged for the pards. They tried to be-
guile the time with talk, and by making careful surveys
of the cliff tops, and by getting in an occasional shot at
their besiegers. But the Indians were wary. Perched
on the cliffs they watched keenly below, and dropped a
bullet whenever one of the pards ventured to show him-
self.

Along toward sundown Cayuse announced that some
of the Sioux were in the Cafion. The scout and the trap-
per looked around the end of the ridge, only to be driven
back by a rain of bullets from the top of the opposite
wall, ae

But they had seen enough to send their hopes for
escape by night down to zero. The Indians were string~-®
ing ropes across the cafion, and making the barrier more
secure by heaping rocks under the ropes.

How: see dye think thar

“Consarn their muttered Nomad, “they're

fencin’ us in.”

pictur’s,”’

hs jee ch mdi neta pn eS mete i

  

ieee teen lehlbsis Fol hilo Ln
 

/

sued me

16 THE -BUFFALO

“They’re not intending to take any chance on our get-
ting out under cover of darkness,’ refurned the scout.

“The outlook is dubious, pard.”

CHAPTER x.
CROOKED BEN’S NEWS.

The forma which darkened the tepee door was twisted
and misshapen. To Wild Bill, just awakened from sound
slumber, it looked more like the form of an ape than of
a man. :

“Tam here,” said the newcomer in a high, shrill voice.

It was also a breathless voice, and Wild Bill could hear
the man falling to the floor of the tepee from exhaustion.

‘Who are you?” demanded the Laramie man. —

“Him all same Broken Brave,” struck in Utnbass- -a-
hoos, his guttural voice filled with awe. -

“Broken Brave?” .

A bitter laugh came from the newcomer’s lips.

“Aye,” .he answered, “Broken Brave, as the Indians
call me, or Crooked Ben, as the whites have it. I live
in a den like a wolf, butewhenever I come out it is not al-
ways to Brey: I try to do good to my fellow men when-

ever | can:;

“Why do you want to see me, Crooked Ben?” de-
manded the Laramie man.

“Listen,” went on the other. “Buffalo Bill, old Nomad,
and Little Cayuse Wee at my ee in the early part of
the day just gone

_ “Where is that?’ interrupted Wald Bill, at once de-

veloping great interest in the stranger's story.

“East and north of here,” was the reply. “The noted
scout and his pard, the trapper, rescued me from what
might have been my tomb. A horde of savage Sioux,
captained by a white renegade in a gray flannel shirt, pur-

27

 

 

“A man in a gray shirt!’

“Yes, He had me bound hand and foot, and the en-
trance to my den closed with a stone. But what do you
speak? Have you seen this man?’

“T should say so! I found him sending up smoke sig-

nals. and laying for the Sachem of Saginaw with a gun
and

 

A sharp cry escaped Crctleed Ben’s lips. He threw
himself toward Wild Bill, through the gloom of the tepee,
and caught at his arm.

“The Sachem!

“Do you know the Sachem?”

“T want to find him! I “was bringing him from the
Sweetwater to the Little Big Horn! I uty tell mie,
this man in the gray shirt did not injure him?”

“No,” answered Wild Bill.

\»?

You have seen the Sachem!

 

“The Sachem came with

hours ago, anyhow.

BILE “STORIES.

me to this village of Umbass-a-hoos, and.he is here in
this tepee with me now.
“Why don’t you open up and ere a friend?”

There was no answer.

Wild Bill called again, but with no better result.

Thinking the Sachem of Saginaw had ‘one of his taci-
turn streaks on, the Laramie man lit a match and peered
about the tepee.

The Sachem was not in | the place!

“Well,” muttered Wild Bill, “here’s a go, and no mis-
take! The Sachem of Saginaw was in this tent when
I went to sleep, and that must have been two or three
Have you seen any hing of him,
Umbass-a-hoos ?”

“Laramie’s friend,” answered the eee “eft the camp
plenty time ago. Herd boy see um.’

“That's queer,” muttered Wild Bill.
was going to. stay here all night.” Se

“I supposed he

’ spoke up Coie Ben. el
wanted to see him, but he is gone.” . | a.

“He'll be back here, Crooked Ben,” returned the Lara-
mie man. ‘He wants to see my pard, Buffalo Bill, and
I’ve a paper talk. from Buffalo Bill saying he’ll be back
here to this Crow camp. Wait, and you'll” see this
Sachem. I'll gamble on it.”

“That is my usual luck,”

“Buffalo Bill cannot get back here unless he and his
pards have help,” announced Crooked Ben. |

“What’s that?”

The hunchback repeated his words.

“How do you know?’ demanded Wild Bill, Ae voice
hardening.

“That is the news I came to bring,” went on Crooked
Ben. “It was toward noon when Buffalo Bill, old Nomad,
and Little Cayuse left me. While I was talking with the
scout and the trapper, Little Cayuse, who was watching
the horses, saw a lone Sioux rider and fired at him. The
shot carried the scout, the trapper, and me over the hill.
When Little Cayuse had made his report to Buffalo Bill,
all the pards mounted and rode like the wind after the
Sioux.” ,

39

“Naturally,” commented the Laramie man. “They’re
out hunting the Sioux, and one lone buck would not get
away from them if they could help it. oe on, Crooked
Ben. All this is mighty interesting to me.’

“Buffalo Bill,” proceeded the hunchback, “wanted me
to-ride with him, but my horse had been stolen by the
white renegade and his red followers, and I would not
hamper the scout by burdening his horse with my extra
weight. I remained behind, and it was well I did so.

“Perhaps the scout and his pards had been gone an
hour when I heard a sound of distant rifle firing. That
called my attention, and I knew there was trouble of
some sort and that the scout and his pards were mixed up

I say, Sachem!” he. called.

 

 

—

 
 

 

THE BUFFALO

in it. I waited, expecting them to come back. They did
not come. Then I stole dway after them, guided by the
sound of more firing. What I discovered has filledsme
with the utmost alarm for Buffalo Bill and his two
pards.”

“What did you discover?’ asked Wild Bill. “Hurry
up, Crooked Ben. It strikes me that there is need of in-
stant action, and that not much more time can be wasted
here.”

“There is a box cafion,”

went on the hunchback, “and

‘\ the scout and his pards were in the bottom of the cafion

with the savages on the walls, on both sides. They were
shooting downward, and only now and then was there a
shot in return. I believe, Wild Bill, that that cafion is a
trap, and that the lone Sioux led the scout and his pards
into it. Unless something is done, your pards may be
wiped out.”

“T don’t know about the wiping-out part, Crooked Ben.
I've yet to see Pard Cody in a hole he couldn’t get out of
without help. But it won’t do to ge back, How did
you know I was here?” eo

“T didn’t know that,’ answered Crooked Ben. “I
knew the Crows were here, and that the Crows are
friendly. I came in the hope that Umbass-a-hoos would
furnish warriors to help the scout. I walked all the way
from Lone Tree Hill, and as I am not physically strong,
it took me a long time. As soon as ] had-met Umbass-a-
hoos, he told ine that you were here, so I asked him to
take me to you.”

“You did well, and I am grateful,’ said Wild Bill,

‘“T am only paying a debt I owe the scout. He saved
me, and it was no more than right that I should save
him.” :

Umbass-a-hoos had stood like a statue listening to the
words of Crooked Ben.

“You heard, Umbass-a-hoos?” asked Wild Bill.

“Wuh,” answered the chief. :

“Are you going to send warriors with me fo fight the
Sioux ?”

“No like um night fight. "

“There'll not be much night left by the time we get to
this box cafion.” 7

“How many Sioux, Broken Brave?” demanded the
chief.

“Thirty, as near as I could judge,”
back.

“Was that white man in the gray shirt with them?”
queried Wild Bill.

“T could not see him.”

“What are you going to do, Umbass-a-hoos 2” “urged
Wild Bill. “We haven’t much time to lose deciding.”

‘Me send um Yellow Horse with war party,”
the chief. “How many brave you want, huh?”

Ne ered the hance

answered

“As many as you can spare. You'll have to keep a few

BILL STORIES. : 17

fighting men here in order to guard the camp in case
another party of Sioux should show up.”

“Me tell um warriors,’ said the chief.

“And-say, chief!” called Wild Bill. “I haven’t a gun
with me. If you’ve got something in the shape of hard-
ware, I’d be obliged to you for the loan of it. I'll give
you the gun back again, and the best blanket in the post
trader’s store at Custer, along with it.”

“Ugh!” returned the chief, “me git um gun for Lara-
mie.”’

The chief’s summons caused an uproar in the village.
Squaws were screaming, dogs were barking, and the
young men, eager for the war trail and Sioux a
were rushing for their ponies.

All was turmoil and confusion when Wild Bill stepped
out of the tepee and received a breech-loading rifle and
supply of cartridges from the chief.

“Him my gun,” said Umbass-a-hoos fondly, and with
some apprehension, ‘‘treat um fine, Laramie. Bring um
back with blanket, heap fine blanket.”’

“You can gamble your moccasins on that, chief,’ and
the Laramie man began ating the cartridges in ae
fluted rim of his belt.

' One of the herd boys led up his force, saddled and
bridled and teady for the foray.

“What are you going to do, Crooked Ben?” inquired
the Laramie man, as he swung into his saddle.

“T shall remain here and wait for the Sachem to come
back,” answered the hunchback.

“That will be best.” :
A whoop from the outskirts of the camp signified that
the Crows were ready and waiting for their white leader.

Wild Bill spurred away to join them.
There were twenty of the-braves, all young and full

- of fight, and every man was well armed. Yellow Horse

was a noted war chief, and he and Wild Bill rode away
together, the braves flickering after them in single file.

That ride to the box cafion was quickly made, and the
first streamers of dawn were fluttering in the east as the
war party rode from the valley into the mouth of the
cafion.

They had heard no sounds of firing, and they saw no
feathered heads along ‘the cafion’s rim nor in the cafion’s
murky depths.

The party divided. Onestutt of the force, led by Yel-
low Horse, climbed to the rim rock and looked for Sioux
on the walls, while the other half, led by Wild Bill,
searched the cafion.

Neither party discovered the scout and his pards, or
Indians, but those below and above found many traces
of the fight that had been waged.

What had become of Buffalo Bill, Nomad, and Ca-
yuse?

~

 

a ee a SRS AN Si ees LS nba te ND he TUS LAN Sie A tol meno appa pce oem saa tor pa tre Ii Vag da shap coolest lel el ne ri ia saloc ane ie tabarmiaek mbes SST tage ited

 
THE BUFFALO

CHAPTER XT,
THE ESCAPE FROM THE CANON.

“Juberous, eh?” muttered old Nomad; “ye think ther
prospeck is juberous, Buffler ?”’

“Dubious, yes,’ answered the scout, “but not by any
means hopeless. The bucks are stretching ropes across
the cafion to fence us in and keep us from making a break
for liberty when night falls. But we'll make the break,
just the same.”

“Shore we will,’ chuckled the old trapper, “an’ we'll
show them thar red whelps our heels, as slick as ye
please. When ye goin’ ter try ter make ther break?’

“We'll wait until the middle of the night, old pard.
_ If we’re quiet, in here, during the first part of the night,
the Sioux will think that we’re badly scared and have
given up hope. Then will come the time to show them
what we are made of.”

TA ereCE.” ae

Little Cayuse again took up his post at the entrance
into the niche, and Buffalo Bill and old Nomad drew back
nearer the horses. ce

“Thet thar Crooked Ben,” remarked the old trapper,
“reminds me a heap 0’ one o’ the fellers thet was mixed
up in our last scrimmage in Arizony.”

“Old Gaspard of the evil eye?’ queried the scout.
“Ther same, Buffler. Gaspard was erbout this hyar
Ben’s size an’ shape, ef my mem’ry sarves.’*

“This Crooked Ben,” said the scout, “is an altogether

different man. His form is bent and broken, like old
Gaspard’s, but Ben, if I read him right, has a good heart
and a clear conscience.”

“An’ a level head, barrin’ them didoes he cut up with
his flashlight an’ his smoke signals.”

No overt act was committed against the pards by their
red foes. The Sioux could be heard moving around, and
occasionally calling to each other from rim to rim of the
canon, but they were not using their weapons. Appar-
ently they felt sure of ultimately getting the pards, and
had settled down to a waiting game.

The night came and deepened. There, in the bottom
of the cafion, it was doubly dark.

When the scout believed that sufficient time had elapsed,
he stepped toward the mouth of the niche.

“Whar ye goin’, Buffler?” asked Nomad, hearing the
scout move off.

“IT am going out to reconnoiter,’ whispered Buffalo
Bill. “Stand to your horses, Nick, and be ready to come
if you hear me call, or to ride at once if I should return
quietly,”

“Ve kin count on us, Buffler.”

“Wuh!” seconded Little Cayuse.

 

*“Gaspard of the evil eye” figured in No. 502 and ‘No. 503
of the Burrato Birt STories.

 

beat STORIES.

 

  

 

Very quietly the scout stepped past the oti of the
little ridge; then, hugging the gloomy wall on the left,
hé sfowly made his way toward the er that ne been
erected by the savages.

He could see nothing in the gloom, bat He: Lene tits

groping hand on the wall and that served to guide him.

Suddenly he stopped. A guttural voice had hailed him.
It was a Sioux on guard, watching for a down-cafion
movement on the part of the whites.

“Who comes?” were the words of the Indian, in the
Sioux tongue. , Lee

Evidently the redskin was in some doubt, and had an
idea that the approaching form mgle be that of one-of
his own comrades.

“A friend,” answered the scout, tis hoarse yoice giving

‘the Sioux a Sioux answer. 2

Clearly the challenger believed that the scout was a
friend, solely on the testimony of the language used.
Vaguely a blur of shadow rose up in front of the scout.

“You see the. hat weavers (whites) ?” asked. the Sioux.

The scout’s answer was a forward ‘spring, quick as a
lightning flash. His hands closed,around: the Indian's
throat, and the astounded red man was hurled backward
to the cafion’s bed. ey

The only noise made by the clash was ihe sound se the
fall. Not so much as a gurgle escaped the lips of the
Sioux. The Indian’s head struck with cruel force on the
rocks, and his limbs went limp. “With a heave of ‘his
powerful body under the Scout's grip, he ‘straightened
out and lay quiet. :

* The scout did not pause to make a very thorough ‘ex-
amination of the redskin. Time was too precious.

He started on down the cafion, but had taken only a
few steps when he ran into the ropes. He groped over
them with his hands and discovered that there were no
stones piled at the foot of the wall.

The Sioux who had been on guard had evidently been
watching that end of the barricade, ready to give the
alarm when he discovered the pards venturing out.

The time to act had come, and there was a good pros-
pect of success if the pards acted quickly. |
Jerking his knife from his belt the scout slashed the
ropes, then turned and made his way hurriedly but noise-
lessly back to his waiting pards.
“Any chance, Buffler?”’ queried Nomad.

“The best chance in the world,” answered the scout.
“Mount, pards. Each of you a on to the end of a
tiata so we won't get separated.” i

The scout, as soon as he had climbed to his saddle, un-
coiled a few yardsof rope and passed it backward.
Cayuse laid hold of it, and Nomad, ae ee the rear,
grasped the end. : an ek

When the scout started, his pards followed behind him,

   

  
 

 

SO A AnD Rely Camano eh areal reontes —
ny
or

ra

following his general course and keeping together by
means of the riata.

They reached the rope-and-stone barricade, and the
scout continued to lead his-pards safely on through the
breach.

Suddenly, when they were clear of the barricade, a loud
yell went up from the other side of the cafion.

There was another Indian on guard duty, and he had
heard the white men and their Piute comrade passing
down the defile.

_. Instantly the tops of the cliffs awoke into fierce tur-
moil. Rifles began to volley downward, their sharp flash-
ing splitting the night redly. ,

It had evidently been,arranged that, in case the pards
attempted escape, the guards below were to rush for
cover and leave the shooting to the Indians on the top of
the walls.

Here fortune favored the three escaping riders. The
Sioux on the walls had the location of the barrier marked,
and they centred their fire upon it, thinking, no doubt,
that they would lay their enemies low while they were at-
tempting to force the barricade.

This misconception on the part of the red men caused
most of their lead to fall behind the pards, who were well
away from the barricade.

“Ride, now!” called the scout; “ride for your. lives!’

The hoofs of the war horses made merry music on the
cafion stones.’ The rattling tattoo, echoing through the
cafion, reached the ears of the redskins overhead and
gave them a fair idea of the course of the pards’ flight.

On either wall a flaring torch appeared, carried by a
feathered savage. Each of the torch bearers was running
along the rim rock in the direction the scout and his
comrades were taking. ,

Suddenly one of the Indians halted and hurled his
torch into the murky depths at his feet.

Simultaneously, the old trapper tried an up-shot with
his rifle. The scream of the savage merged into the hiss-
ing of the falling torch. The glowing flame struck the
bottom of the cafion directly in front of the scout.

Bear Paw, frightened, reared back. The scout prodded
the gallant black with the spurs, and he leaped the lick-
ing flames to an accompaniment of more shots that
tained down all around him.

“Whoop-a-la!” exulted the old trapper, carried away
with the excitement of the moment. “We're winnin’,
Buffler, winnin’ with ground ter spare.”

“We're not out of the woods yet,” the scout called
back over his shoulder. “Are you fellows all right?”

“Wuh!” answered Cayuse..

“Nary a scratch!” bellowed old Nomad. “Et’s too
blame’ dark fer any fancy shootin’. Anyways, we're
goin’ so fast them thar bullets kain’t overtake us.”

By that time the pards were close to the gap that led
into the valley. There were sounds from the top of the

SALA eA PRS tc AIO CANAAN wd spl bdeicninates eae iipanicatelanete

THE BUFFALO

-need for it.

  

tae mR RS MPH AN EN

 

 

 

Pi sewn

 

    
   
  
   

BIEL STORIES. 19
walls which indicated that the Sioux were mounting their
ponies and preparing for a night chase.

“Them pizen reds ain’t got no stomach fer a night
fight,” called the trapper. “I never seen a red that had.
They’d ruther do their shootin’ by day, when they kin
see what they’re a-doin’. I reckon our ha’r won’t hang in
no Sioux lodge fer quite er spell.”

They gained the valley. Here the earth was yielding
and the hoofbeats of their mounts fell more softly, The
light also was better, and the pards were able to see each
other.

“Cast off the rope,’ called the scout; “we've no further
Now, after me, pards!”

He coiled in the riata as he rode toward the low bank
of the valley. Putting his horse at the slope, he clam-
bered to the top, and over it.

Halting there, until Nomad and Cayuse could join
him, he saw a blur of shadows spurring into the valley.
He laughed under his breath.

‘What's ther fun, Buffler?” asked Nomad.

“Why,” answered the scout, “the Sioux are tearing
down into the valley, hoping to head us off as we come
out of the cafion entrance. We've fooled them good.”

“Thet’s er way we hev,”’ chuckled the trapper.

“Heap fine work,” commented Little Cayuse.

“We'll ride back up the cafion, a stone’s throw from
the cliff’s edge,” said the scout. “After that, we'll cross
over on the top of the blind wall and gain the Little Big
Horn, Before A leave the cafion, though, I’d like to
make sure whether or not that man in the gray shirt is
with these reds.”

“We'll scout fer thet whelp as we ride, Buffler,” re-
turned Nomad.

He and Cayuse, trailing on at the scout’s heels, followed *
to a short distance from the cafion’s brink, then turned
their horses toward the top of the blind wall.

# CHAPTER XII.
THE TRAMP AND THE MAN IN GRAY.

The pards rounded the farther end of the Baer with-
out hearing or seeing anything of their foes.

“They’re all at ther mouth o’ ther defile,” laughed the
trapper, “waitin’ fer us ter-come out. Say, this hyar’s
rich, this is. Thet war party acks er heap like et hadn’t
cut its milk teeth.”

“We'll ride on to the Little Big Horn,” said the scout,
“and pitch camp for the rest of the night. We've secured
a good deal of information that will be valuable to the
colonel, at Custer, but I’d like to find out something more
about this renegade, White Wolf.”

They pointed their horses toward the river and got
them started.

  
   

 

20 THE BUFFALO

ae Wolf is ther ombray thet’s causin’ all this hyar
-ruction,” ’ declared Nomad.

“Small doubt of that. As in several other cases of
incipient uprisings on the part of the reds, if we capture
the man at the back of the hostile movement, hostilities
will probably cease.”

“They'll drap, muy pronto,” agreed Nomad, “but et’s
one thing ter find thet renegade an’ another thing ter
ketch him. Findings ain’t allers ketchings, not by a hull
row © ‘dobies.”

They reached the bank of the Little Big Horn and dis-
mounted in a place where there was good grazing and ex-
cellent shelter.

The animals were picketed with short ropes, close to
drink and forage, and the pards, with their riding gear,
dropped down close to them. Buffalo Bill raided his
war bag for rations, and they all cleaned up the slender
supply in short order.

‘Now for a few hours’ sleep,” said the scout. “Take
the first watch, Nick, and call me in a couple of hours.
V’ll relieve you then, and you can stretch out and snatch
your forty winks. To-morrow may be a hard day, and
we want to be fit and ready for whatever comes our way.”

The scout fell back, with his saddle for a pillow.

“I wisht Pard Pawnee had been with us in thet thar
cafion,” Nomad remarked. “I'll gamble a blue stack he'd
hev enj’yed the experience. Pawnee allers did like a close
call, an’ then a tight squeak in the getaway. He'll be
sorry when he hears what’s happened.’

“Pawnee ought to be at Custer, by now,”
scout.

Little Cayuse, curled up at the foot of a sycamore, was
already asleep. Buffalo Bill was not long in following
him into those hazy realms where clashes of red men and
white are forgotten, and rest and refreshment come to the
tired body.

In due course he was roused by the trapper.

“Hated ter do et, Buffler,’ said Nomad, “ye was
snoozin’ so comfortable, but I’m havin’ the fiend’s own
time keepin’ awake. I’m afeard I might doze off, an’
then, mebbeso, them reds ’u’d creep up on us.”

The scout took a look at the stars.

“You have already let me sleep longer than I told you
to,” said he.

He got up and stepped to the horses. The animals
were lying down. Returning, he passed his sleeping
comrades and walked for several yards toward the open.

There was a lulling ripple to the flow of the river, but
no other sounds, apart from Nomad’s snores, broke the
silence.

Buffalo Bill tramped a short beat, for a time, in order
to get himself fully awake, and then he sat down with
his pipe and tobacco.

answered the

BILL STORIES.

No Indians showed themselves. The scout speculated
a little as to what they were doing, and where they might
be carrying their search. He hoped in his heart that
they would not go to Lone Tree Hill and make trouble
for Crooked Ben.

This thought concerning Crooked Ben aroused other
thoughts regarding Crooked Ben’s queer revelations con-
cerning Captain Hollis, Cummings, Blix, and the Sachem.

The scout was half inclined to the belief expressed by
Nomad, viz.: that the Sachem might be none other than
the deserter, Sergeant Blix.

But why should Crooked Ben be luring Blix to Lone
Tree Hill? What could Crooked Ben hope to accom-
plish by such a move? And why, last but by no means
least, should Blix heed the tener given to him on the
Sweetwater, and follow the foolish eee and smoke
signals ?

It was conceivable, of course, that Blix might be in
that part of the Indian country; and it was more than
possible that, being a deserter and possibly guilty of

Eldridge’s death, he should be disguised. But the man .

would be too wary to fall into any trap set for him by
Crooked Ben.
While the scout turned these matters over in his mind,

day broke in the east, and the mellow glow of morning -

hustled the night’s shadows westward.

The scout looked toward his pards and the horses.
Nomad and Cayuse, worn by their hard work of the last
three days, were still sound asleep, and the horses were
up again and feeding.

Buffalo Bill made no move to arouse his companions.

“There'll be plénty to do,” he thought, “before this day
is over, and I’ll give them another hour of rest.”

When the morning had brightened, he got to his feet
and ascended a gentle slope that lay before him. It was
in his mind to make a survey from the higher point of
ground and see if there were any redskins in evidence.

As his head and shoulders came level with the hill
crest, he suddenly muttered an exclamation and ae
downward.

He had not seen Indians, but he had seen a man in
a gray shirt riding his horse into a thicket, a little way
from the foot of the slope, and there dismounting.

“Here’s unexpected luck!’ muttered Buffalo Bill. “The
man in the gray shirt! And without a red at his back!”

Removing his hat, the scout crept back to the ¢ crest and
peered over it catttiously.

The fringe of brush ran all along the foot of the hill,
and there was a sort of trail separating the brush from
wooded ground beyond.

The man in the gray shirt was cr SuChin in the
bushes, rifle in his hands. He was waiting for some one,
that seemed certain.

Buffalo Bill allowed his eyes to travel along the ges

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THE BUFFALO

trail. Then, the next moment, he discovered the man for
whom the ambushed marksman was lying in wait.

The man was a tramp—a creature of rags and patches
from his bursted shoes to his old slouch hat, Over his
shoulder was a stick, and from the end of the stick hung
a bundle tied up in a bandanna handkerchief.

“A tramp!” muttered the scout, “and roaming these

dangerous hills without a weapon! The fellow must
be crazy. Something will happen here, in a few min-
utes, unless I can interfere.”
_ Carefully the scout picked up his hat and crawled over
‘the bare crest of the hill. Slipping down the slope, he
came presently into the bushes, then laid a course de-
signed to bring him close to the position occupied by the
crouching man in the gray shirt. :

Buffalo Bill was at the edge of the bushes and peering
out into the trail at the moment the tramp came along
and the other leaped out in front of him. :

Startled, the tramp fell back, dropping his stick and
his handkerchief! bundle.

“Know me?” demanded the, man with the’ rifle, his
voice savage and murderous. |

“I reckon I couldn’t ever forget what you've tried to
do to me,’”” answered the tramp, staring into the baleful
eyes of the man that faced him.

“What I’ve tried to do don’t count,” growled the man
with the rifle. “It’s what I’m going to do now that tells
the tale—or, rather, prevents a tale from being told.”

The tramp started, thrust his head forward, and peered
into the other’s face.

“What do'you mean by that?” he demanded.

“If you can’t guess right off,” was the reply, “you'll
never know.”

With that, the ruffian’s fist shot out and the tramp
threw up his hands, reeled backward, and dropped at full
length.

“Git up!” ordered the. man in the gray shirt.

The tramp gasped and stirred weakly.

“Git up, I tell you!” said the othér again, this time ac-
companying the words with an oath.

The tramp sat up, one hand to his forehead.

“You've got about one minute to live,’ went on the
ruffan, taking his rifle in both hands, “just about one
minute. Want to say anything?”

This was enough for the scout. Before the ruffian
could bat an eye he had stepped clear of the bushes
and leaped between the armed man and his intended
victim,

“That. will do, stranger,” said Buffalo Bill; “this man
is unarmed, and 1 am here to look out for him.” -

The man with the rifle stared as though he could
scarcely believe his eyes. The tramp gasped.

‘Again,’ murmured the tramp, “again, and by the
skin of my teeth! I had just made up my mind that I~

  

 

BILL STORIES. 21
was face to face with my finish. Noble benefactor, I can
never be sufficiently grateful.”

“Who are you?’ snapped the man in the gray. shirt,
recovering himself with an effort.

“Cody is my name.” .

“Buffalo Bill!” Fire flashed in the eyes or the man
with the rifle, and he fell back a step.

“Buffalo Bill!” murmured the man who was sitting up
in the road. “Vm running up a big debt to the scout
and his pards, an fa

There was a quick movement on the scout’s part, quick,
certain, and violent. He had flung himself forward, and,
just as the tramp had been struck, he struck the man
in the gray shirt, downing him like a tenpin in a bowling
alley.

The rifle dropped.
struggled to his elbows.

The scout caught up the rifle and turned the muzzle
of it on the man at his feet.--

“I’m ready,” said the scout grimly, “and perhaps more
than willing, to give you a dose of your own medicine,
so lie where you are while you answer a question, This
rifle belongs to my pard, Wild Bill Hickok. Where did
you get it?”

 

The stricken man gurgled and

CHAPTER lil:
THE SACHEM S0f Rap Nw Dp.

The man on the ground glowered, but remained silent.

“IT can tell you where he got the gun, esteemed res-
cuer,”’ said the tramp.

“Where?” inquired the scout, keeping his eyes on the
man in front of him.

“He sent up a smoke signal, Buffalo Bill, from the
top of a rise. I had been following smoke signals by
day and flashes by night for quite a while, so I followed
that one. When I got to the top of a rise I found Wild
Bill Hickok.”

“Wild Bill?”

“Yes. He told me he had seen the signals from the
other side of the hill, suspected Indian tricks, and had
investigated. When he crawled up the hill he found that
man in the gray shirt drawing a bead on me with a rifle.
Wild Bill interfered with him. While they were having
a talk, an Indian—a Sioux—stole up behind Wild Bill
and clubbed him over the head. When Wild Bill came
to, the white renegade and the Sioux were streaking it
toward the sky line on their horses.”

“Tl wish now,” growled the Rite renegade, “that I had
put a bullet through Wild Bill!”

“Well for you, you scoundrel, that you: did not,” flared
Buffalo Bill. “You are the man who led the Sioux
against Crooked Ben, tied and gagged the cripple and leit
him in his den to starve and die! Furthermore, yout are
 

hoe THE BUFFALO

the renegade the Indians call White Wolf, and you are
stirring up the Sioux to take the warpath. You thought
you had me and my pards last night, but you missed your
play. I’ve got you, you cur, and Pil oe onto you until
I land you in Fort Custer——’,

“Waal, sufferin’ bluebottles!” came the voice of old
Nomad, as he stepped clear of the bushes and peered
at the exciting scene in the trail. “Buffler, why don’t ye
wake a feller up an’ let him hev er hand in ther excitin’
doin’s? The man in the gray shirt! White Wolf!
Waugh, but hyar’s luck! What was he tryin’ to do?”

“He had knocked down that tramp behind me and was
getting ready to use his rifle on him,” answered the scout.

“Blazes ter blazes an’ all hands ‘round! Some savage,
_ain’t he? But ye’ve pulled his fangs. I reckon he won't
knock anybody else, down er

Old Nomad halted suddenly, his a on the rifle in the
scout’s hands.

“Thet’s Wild Bill’s Seoldin’
PWhard ve git it, Buffler?”

“The man in the gray shirt had it.”

Nomad turned glaring, vengeful eyes on White Wolf.

‘“Whar’d ye git et, ye onnery whelp?” he demanded,
his voice rising high with apprehension asd anger.

“Steady, old pard,” put in the scout. “The tramp will
tell you all about that.”

Nomad turned to the tramp, and he told him just what
he had already told the scout.

“Whar’s Wild Bill now?’ asked the trapper, much
relieved.

“He took me to“the Crow camp on the Little Big
Horn,” replied the tramp.

‘Did Wild Bill get the written message I left for him?”
queried the scout.

‘He did]

“Why did you leave the camp?’

“T was nervous and unsettled. JI wanted to find out
about the man who had sent me a letter in a cow camp
on the Sweetwater and had asked me to follow the flashes
and the smoke signals. This White Wolf had-taken his
place, and I was so anxious, noble comrades, to learn the
truth about my real friend that I couldn't sleep. So I
got up, left the tepee and the Crow camp, and have been
traveling toward Custer. It was a surprise to meet this
man in the road. He has tried to get me several times.
In Cheyenne, Pawnee Bill came to my rescue——”

“Pawnee Bill?’ echoed the pards.

 

Sairy!’ he gulped.

 

“None other,” went om the tramp. “On that hill, as
I’ve just told you, Wild Min saved me; and here, in this
trail, Buffalo Bill has come to my aid. My friend, I am
under obligations to you and your pards that I can never
repay !”

“You are the man who calls himself the Sachem of
Saginaw?” inquired the scout. :

BILL STORIES:

- Eldridge affair. And

 

 

‘Even so, valued friend.”
Old Nomad whistled.
“Buffler Bill an’ pards seem ter be mixin’ a .ot in yore
affairs, fer a fact,” said he. :
“How did you know what I called myself, renowned
helper of the downtrodden?” asked the Sachem.
“A man by the name of Erooked Ben told me,” the
scout answered. ° : \
“T do not know him.”
“Crooked Ben was the one who showed you the flashes
and the smoke eet and got that letter into your hands
on the Sweetwater.”
“Well, well! What does he want of me?”
“Te wants to tell you something about Captain Hollis.”
‘Fhe Sachem showed traces of excitement.
“ifollis?’’ he repeated. “He has some information
about Captain Hollis?”
“About Hollis’ ‘trouble. Crooked Ben believes—how
rightly I am at a loss ‘to state—that tl information he
has will clear Captain ao name in that ees

 

“Look out, Buffler!” shouted old Nomad suddenly. _

With a quick turn of the body White Wolf had bolted
against Buffalo Bill’s feet. The scout was overset, but
when he came down he landed squarely on the man who
had thrown him.

There was a quick, sharp struggle. While it was going
on, Little Cayuse appeared on the top of the hill, tossing
his arms and yelling.

“Sioux! Sioux!, Pa-e-has-ka, look out for Sioux!”

From a distance could be heard the tramp of running
hoofs, unshod hoofs thrumming a Coney increasing
staccato note in the trail.

“Up the hill with you, Sachem!” roared the scout.
“Quick, man! Here, Nick,” he finished, “help me with
this white renegade.”

White Wolf struggled furiously.

“My reds are coming! !” he cried hoarsely.
you you Set ’t escape from them. You Lae us the slip
in the cafion, last night, but now a

Goaded by necessity, but entirely without compunction,
old Nomad leaned over and struck the prisoner a heavy
blow.

“Waugh!’’ muttered the trapper. “He does too much
fightin’, Buffler, an’ we ain’t got no time ter waste. -Grab
his heels—lI’ll take him by the shoulders.”

The rolling hoofs were dangerously close as the pards
hurried away with their stunned prisoner. The woods
formed a screen which prevented the scout or the trap-
per from seeing the approaching redskins, but their ears
convinced them of their perilous proximity.

___ As they toiled over the bare crest of the hill a chorus
~ of shrill yells followed them.

 

   

%
~

“They'll get

  

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THE “BUFFALO BILL STORIES. : 24

They're lookin’ at us, Bufflet,” puffed. old Nomad. “T
reckon we're goin’ ter hev ther fight Oo our lives.’

“Get into the timber,” said the scout, who was packing
Wild Bill’s rifle as vel as carrying half of the dazed
prisoner. “There’s some shelter in the timber,’ he added,
“and we'll have the river at our back.”

“We'll ene them red whelps somethin’ ter think erbout,
anyways, growled Nomad.

As rapidly as they could go the pards descended the
slope. Cayuse was already busy with the horses, remoy-
ing the tethers and leading them away from the cleared
oe ground and in among the trees.

‘he Sachem was at the edge of the timber, watching
a pards and keeping a lookout for the Sioux.

A bullet fanned the air close to the scout’s face.

“Hurry, Buffalo Bill!” yelled the Sachem excitedly.
“The reds are on top of the hill—they’re getting ready to
come down. And there’s a smother of them.”

A rifle cracked from the line of the woods.

“Tally one fer Leetle Cayuse,” panted Nomad,
ing to.the yell of pain that followed the shot.

listen-

“Into the timber with you, Sachem!” ordered the scout.

“Find a good-sized tree and see that you keep behind it.”
““T£ you’ve got a gun of your own, my friend,” returned
the Sachem, ‘‘why not let me use that?”
“T’'ll use this rifle.
take miné,”

You go and tell Cayuse to let you

The Sachem whirled and bolted for cover. The scout
and the trapper, staggering in among the trees, dropped
their burden.

“Look after the prisoner, Nick,” said Buffalo Bill,
turning to take stock of the trouble in the rear.

To his amazement the trouble was not materializing.
There were no red horsemen on the hill slope.

‘Where are the Sioux, Cayuse?” called the scout.

“No sabe, Pa-e-has-ka,”’
tone. “Me see um one Sioux.
ride back over hill.”

“Kain’t be ther
queried Nomad.

answered the boy, in a puzzled
pymeby he turn ’round,

whelps aire skeered out, kin “it?”

“Something unusual has turned up to

 

The scout was interrupted by more yells from over
the hill.” But they were not Indian yells.
Old Nomad gave a whoop.

92

“Tm er Piegan,’’ he cried, “ef ther sogers hevn’t
showed up! What d’ye think o’ thet? The ole man at
Custer must hev got wind o’ hosstyles, out in these parts,
an’ : .

 

The words froze.on the old trapper’s lips. Just at that
moment, two riders appeared on the hilltop. They were
W ii men, and they were not soldiers.

"Thunder, an’ kerry one!” gasped Nomad. ‘“Thar’s
Pawnee Bill, er I’m er Dutchman.”

 

“And Wild Bill!” added the scout.

It was a pleasatit surprise, and Buffalo Bill and Little
Cayuse stepped from cover and shouted a greeting to the
two on the hill.

CHAPTER XIV. |

AN: EXCITING REUNION.

Nomad, with a rope brought by Little Cayuse, had made
the white renegade secure. He now stepped: out beside
Buffalo Bill and Cayuse and joimed in the greeting they
were giving Wild Bill and Pawnee Bill,

The two pards spurred swiftly down the slope, reached
the timber line, and flung themselves from their horses.

“On deck’ necarnis!”’ cried the prince of the bowie jubi-
lantly. is a late, parce he added, “but better late
than never.’ :

“Where are you from, Pawnee?”

“Custer, direct. I landed there from Cheyenne only
to find*that the lot of you were scouting in the hills. [
was getting ready to start whén a Crow scout came in
with news that there were hostile Sioux on the Little
Big Horn, in the vicinity of the box cafion. A detachment
of troopers was ordered out, and I rode with them. Cap-

tain Holcomb is in charge.”

“Where did you meet Wild Bill?” went on the scout.

“At the box cafion. He, was Hays with a force of
Crows from Umbass-a-hoos’ camp.”

“An hombre who called himself Crooked Ben,” put in
the Laramie man, “blew into the Crow camp during the
night and said you, Nomad, and Cayuse were bottled up
in the box cafion and needed help. Umbass-a-hoos gave
me a force of warriors, and we started for the cafion
like a lot of singed cats. It was just breaking day when
we reached the place, but we couldn’t find anything of
you fellows, nor of the hostiles, There were plenty of

signs, though, to tell of a hot scrimmage, and you can

gamble that | was which and t’other to guess how the
scrimmage had come out. The Crows were madder than
a bunch of hornets. It was the first chance they’d had
to annex real scalps in a month of blue moons, and they
hated to see the chance go glimmering:

“T gathered them together, on top of the cafion wall,
and told them we’d go after the Sioux and find out
whether they had made Pa-e-has-ka’and pards prisoners
or not. If the Pah-sap-pah bucks had done that, I prom-
ised the Crows five Sioux scalps all around.

“We started trailing, and hadn’t been at it for more
than an hour when we ran into Holcomb;. Pawnee Bill,
and the outfit from the fort. They were also trailing,
and our trails had come together. There was a happy

reunion between Pawnee and me, and | took my Crows

and joined the troopers.
;

The trail led -us toward the

 
“6

moa | | THE BUFFALO

_ river, and before we had gone very far we heard the reg-
vlar Sioux yell and saw you and Nomad climb over the,
top of that hill carrying some one between you. Two
‘minutes more and the Crows had broken loose. They had
seen the Sioux and were at them like a lot of angry
bees. Holcomb and his soldiers put spurs to their
horses, and, while they and the Crows gave pursuit,
| Pawnee and I rode over here to have a look at you. Who
“ was that you were carrying ?”’

“Come in here and see him,” answered the scout, lead-
ing the way into the timber.

“He’s@not a new one on.me,” averred Pawnee Bill,
the instant his glance had rested on the prisoner.

“Noy on me, either,” added Wild Bill grimly.

“ saw him in Cheyenne, ” said the bowie man.

“And we had our first meeting on a hogback, south ‘of
U ‘mbass-a-hoos’ village,” observed the man from Lara-
mie.

“T kept him from ae atramp,- “went on the prince
of the bowie. oe

>

“And I kept him from shoots a tramp, Gordon,”
laughed the Laramie man. | *

“Where’s the tramp naw?” Pawnee Bill inquired.

“That’s the question I was just asking myself,” said

the scout. “The Sachem of Saginaw was here not more ©

than five minutes ago. Have you seen him, Cayuse?” .

“Nah,” answered the Piute.

“When did you see him last, Nomad?” asked the scout.

“Jest afore I begun tyin’ up this hyar pizen varmint,’

and the trapper ae White Wolf with the toe of his
boot. ;

The scout Hite back his head, made'a trumpet of his
hands, and began shouting for the Sachem.

“There/was no answer to the shouts, and the Sachem
did not appear. *

“Pll bet er bushel o’ dinero,”
“thet ther Sachem has ducked,”

remarked the See

“T’ll bet another bushel tfe same way, “said Wild Bill.

“He ducked out“of the Crow tepee without Tayme or
reason, just the same as he’s ducked out of Mere.”

“Look for Pe pards, ie said, the scout.

very far away.”

But a search of the timber failed to reveal the where-
abouts of the missing Sachem. -

The scout was disappointed, but more on Crooked
Ben’s account than his own. Who the man was, or why
Crooked Ben wanted him, the scout could not understand.
The’Sachem seemed a little wrong in the head, and, apart
from his importance to Crooked Ben, the scout was loath
to have the man loose in that part of the country at such
a time. /

“THe had this rifle, Wild Bill,” said the scout, picking
up the weapon from the ground near White Wolf, “and
he must have left that behind him when he went.” :

“He can’t be

BILL STORIES:

“I’m obliged to him for that, anyhow,” returned the
Laramie man. “It’s my old Gatling, and I'd oo) up
hopes of ever laying hands on it again.”

“White Wolf had it at the time he was captured,” ithe
scout explained.

“Then he must have the rest of my arsenal,” said Wild
Bill, and bent down to extract his six- -shooters from
White Wolf’s belt. a

The prisoner, his eyes gleaming fiercely, was watching
the scout and his pards keenly.

“Why have you tried so many times to send the Siitied
of Saginaw over the Divide?” demanded the scout.

“That’s my business,” snarled the prisoner.

“He’s mighty particular about that business of his,
Pard Cody,” put in Wild Bill.
thing, up on the top of that hopbas when he was try-
ingsto get a shot at the Sachem.”

“lite principal’ business,” ree Pawnee Bill,

“seems to be that of an assassin.’

- “And he’s the most contemptible kind of a- would-be
killer,” went on the Laramie man. “He shoots from
aa and hasn’t the nerve to face his man in. the
open.” : “
“His knavery goes deeper, pards,’ declared the scout,
“for, if I’m not mistaken, he’s the renegade who has been
spurring the Sioux on-to make trouble for the whites.”

“He ort ter be hung,” grunted Nomad angrily.

Just at that juncture a horseman came spurring into
the timber. He drew rein close to the scout.

“Ah, Holcomb!” exclaimed the scout, “I’m glad to see
you. .

99

“Ther way ye rape in on .us awhile back, cap’n,’
grinned old Nomad, “was some refreshin’.”

“What luck with the Sioux, captain?” asked pone
Bill.

“Dropped four and capttired six,” reported the captain,
‘and the Crows had the four Sioux scalps before I could

interfere with their operations. The rest of the outfit got

away.”
“What have you done with the six prisoners?”
Poem “em on to Custer:
around where the Crows were.’ ‘
“We've got another prisoner, here,” out the souk
“who might have been sent to the post with the Sioux.”
“A white man, eh?’ queried the captain, looking down
at the bound man on the ground.

The prisoner evaded the captain’s glance ae turned

his head.
{
“He’s the firebrand, Holcomb,” said the scout.

“What?” repeated the captain, wee oe interest ;
“not White ” olf.?”

“The same.’ uc 4;
“By Jove, Cody, but this is a god day’s outs :

 

“Te told me the same

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THE BUFFALO

The captain dropped out of his’ saddle and stepped
closer, to the prisoner’s side.

“Turn your head,” he ordered, ‘ ‘so I can see your face.
Why are.you trying to keep your face turned, Mae
Wolf?”

As the prisoner seemed Ea denosed to obey the order,

Wild Bill dropped down on his knees and turned his ead "

for him.

Holcomb seemed startled. He drew a deep breath,
cast.an amazed look at the’ scout, then bent over again
for a closer look.

“TI can’t be mistaken!’” he exclaimed.
man, Cody.”

“You do?’ returned the scout. “Who is he?”

“He’s an ex-sergeant ‘and-a deserter. His name is
Blix.”

“Snappin’ painters!” gasped old Nomad.

. “Great Scott!’ muttered, the scopt. <"You're.sure of
that, are you, Holcomb?’

“It’s impossible for me to be mistaken.
to the fort in short order. He'll be welcomed there,’ the
captain added grimly, “with open arms.”

He lifted his voice and called to some of his men who
were tightening girths and looking after their horses and

urms on the slope of the hill. Three men mounted and
came riding swiftly into the timber.

“Sergeant,” said Holcomb, “‘here’s an old comrade,
Blix” Ss

“Divil a bit,” growled the weather-worn sergeant, “he’s
no comrade of mine, th’ bloomin’ desarter. With yer
leave, cap’n, f’r so expressin‘ myself.”

“He’s th¢ fellow who’s -been posing as White Wolf,
sergeant.”

“What d’ye know about that!”

“Take him in charge, you and the two men with you,
and see that he gets safely to Custer.”

“Tl do it; sir.”

The sergeant and his two men dismounted, and_the
prisoner was roped to the sergeant’s horse, back of the
saddle.

“When do we ridé, cap’n?” the sergeant asked.

“Now. Sound boots and saddles and we'll be off.”

The captain swung to the back of his horse, and the
pards got their own mounts under gear and’ rode to the
top of the hill. :

The blue file of troopers was moving briskly off along
the trail. Buffalo Bill, and those with him, halted for a
word with Yellow Horse and the Crows.

“Tell Umbass-a-hoos,” said the scout, #to send
Crooked Ben to Custer. You tell Crooked Ben that Buf
falo Bill wants to palaver with him at the post. Under-
stand?”

“Wuh,” grunted Yellow Horse.

The war chief was in good spirits, for he had got one
of the four Sioux’s scalps.

“T know this

We'll get him

 

   

<n satsn tniivetrscetes seein tte! ise sister Be iS SNC S82 Ny TNT! OS SOE

BILL STORIES. , 3 25

“Also,”’ went on the scout, “tell Umbass-a-hoos to
furnish Crooked Ben with a pony and an escort, and
that Buffalo Bill will pay him for it.” oo

“Wayh?’

“Take this gun back to Umbass-a-hoos,” put in Wild
Bill, handing over the chief’s rifle, “and tell him that
Laramie will have the finest blanket at the post trader's
store to send back by the escort.”

“All same,” said Yellow Horse.

The Crows turned their ponies toward Umbass-a-hoos’

camp and started off at a gallop, the four bucks with the

scalps juggling the tokens in the ‘air as ‘they rode and
singing their songs of victory.

While he and his pards were on the way to overtake
the troopers, the scout suddenly remembered the horse
which he had seen White Wolf secure among the bushes.
He went to the place to get the animal, but discovered
that it had vanished.

“Some of the Sioux bucks who got away must have
taken the horse,” he thought, as he and his pards went
pounding along the trail.

CHAPTER XV.
A CHAT WITH THE COLONEL.

Not until the morning following the return of the de-
tachment and the prisoners to the post did Buffalo Bill
and his pards have an interview with the colonel. Colonel
Griggs sent for them, and the pards, who had been loung-
ing on Holcomb’s veranda, ee a the orderly to
the colonel’s\office.

“You got in so late last night, Cody,’ said, the colonel,
with a genial smile, “that I didn’t have a chance to talk
with you. This is my first opportunity; and I want to
congratulate you and your pards upon breaking the back-
bone of this Sioux rebellion.”

“Do you think it amounts to that, colonel?” asked the
scout.

“T’m positive it does. You have captured White Wolf,
and it’s conceded, all around the Indian country, that
White Wolf was the only. one who could get the Sioux
started. It reminds me a good deal of that old affair of
yours where you captured Lightning-that-gtrikes, a half-
breed trouble maker who tried to do just what White
Wolf has been trying. It was a good piece of work.
What makes it all the better is that White Wolf is none
other than Abraham ole an ex-sergeant at this post and
a deserter.’’ No
. “The prisoner admits that he is Blix?”

“He does, but it’ would make small difference if he
didn’t. It is easy to recognize the fellow.”

“Why did he desert?”

Nae res AEN RT ty iy oA

Mg 1 a ae tem

JR ae me tl a eine al em ON A nn al rm RG gl 6 a a

  
20 THE BUFFALO
“He had some trouble with Captain Hollis and Lieu-
senant Eldridge, months ago, and was afraid that. he was
going to have the stripes stripped off his sleeves.”

“Just a moment, colonel. He didn’t desert until after
Eldridge was shot and Hollis had Se from the post,
did he?”

ENO.

“Then what bd he to fear from Eldridge and Hollis?
The time for him to have deserted, on that plea, was be-
fore the unfortdnate affair here in which Eldridge lost
his life.”

The colonel scowled at the tip of his cigar.

“You appear to have the right end of that particular
argument, Cody,” said he. “I’m only telling you what
Blix told me.”

“Did Blix tell you anything else?”

“He admitted being White Wolf, and said he had gone

among the Sioux to make all the trouble for the soldiers.

that he could. That’s about all.”
“He didn’t say anything about Captain Hollis?”

The colonel opened his eyes wide and stared at the

scout.
“What could he have to say about Hollis?” he asked.
“We know what sort of a man Blix is,” said the scout.
“Te has a venomous disposition and does not hesitate to
shoot, and to shoot to kill, 1f he thinks he has anything
to gain. Now ‘
The orderly Gineated in the doorway, his eyes bulging
with excitement.

“Two men to see you, colonel,” he announced, salut-

ing.

“I’m busy,” said the colonel shortly.

%
“But they're very anxious, sir, and they say it’s a mat-

ter of great importance.”

“and finish our chat

“We'll go, colonel,’ said the scout,
with you another time.”

“Beg pardon, sir,’ went on the orderly, “but the men
who ask to see the colonel want the scout and his pas
to stay.”

“Who are they?” demanded the colonel.

“A cripple by the name of Crooked Ben

“T know that poor fellow!”

“And Captain Hollis.”

The colonel stared at the orderly as though pat alyzed.

_“What’s that, sir?’ he asked sharply.

“Captain Hollis, colonel,” repeated the orderly.

_ “Why, there's no Captain Fons any. more!”
ting, man is the eae sir, _ declared the orderly,
? “and [ll swear to it.’

Wa _ The colonel bounded out of his chair.

“Send him in,” he ordered.
at least discover what he’s up to.”

“Tihe’s an impostor well

-. Crippled Ben entered the room, and, after him, came a
‘trim figure in a captain’s uniform. Buffalo Bill and his

said Hollis, with a dull smile.‘

BILL STORIES.

pards peered into the smiling face of Crooked Ben, and |
then their wondering eyes turned upon the captain. . They
could not remember ever having seen the captain before,

The colonel, still on his feet, looked at the captain as
though at some one returned from the grave.

“Hollis!” he breathed. “By gad!” -

The captain saluted. 2

“Esteemed commander,” said Hollis, “‘I am indeed the
missing captain. Otherwise,” he added, turning gravely
tome the scout and his pards, “the Sache of Sagi-
naw.’

“Waugh!” growled Nomad.
“By gorry!” gulped the man from Laramie.

‘“On-she-ma-da!”’ exclaimed the bowie man.

The scout, although as profoundly surprised as any of
his pards, held his peace. :

A puzzled look had crossed the colonel’s face.

“Vou look like Hollis, all right,” said he, studying the
captain, “but.yet there is something about the wey you
talk that isn’t like Hollis, after all.”

Crooked Ben pushed forward.

“Colonel,” said he, “what Captain Hollis has been
through, during the months when he has been falsely
accused of a grievous crime, would be enough ‘to make
any man a little different up here’ he tapped: his fore-
head—‘‘don’t you think?” *

“He must be different up there,” growled the colonel,
“or he’d never have come back here. He knows what to
expect. Orderly:

“Tust a moment, colonel,” said Crooked Ben. “When
I am through talking you. won’t want to send Captain
Hollis to the guardhouse. Let him speak fitst; and then
let me put in a few words. Will you question him,
colonel ?”

The colonel sat down and mopped his pe ail a
handkerchief. eee 3

“Hollis,”

“T have been trying to find the man who killed Lieu-
tenant Eldridge, worthy colonel,” was the answer. —

said he, “‘where have you i deen ie

Du

eT you had looked in the glass:
dryly, “you’d have found him.’

returned the colonel

“T have been all around this part of the country,” went
on Hollis. . “I was no better than a tramp; in fact, |
claimed to be a tramp. I was looking, looking, looking
for evidence.” a

“How did you escape lees the guardhouse?” went on

the colonel, studying Hollis curiously.
“IT was helped.”
Wrath suffused the colonel’s face:

“By whom?” he thundered. “Is ‘there any man at Aye
post who would so far forget his duty as to help you to
escape from justice?” ;

“The man ‘who helped me is not here now, alone?
‘As soon as I was clear of

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THE BUFFALO

the post he told me to cut short my disgrace—and he
pushed a revolver into my hand. I threw away the re-
volver, left my uniform with a woman at the post trader’s
who was sorry for me, took some cast-off clothing she
found, put it on, and became a tramp. All over Montana
and Wyoming I have roamed, hunting, hunting, hunting
for evidence. At last I got a letter at a cow camp on the
Sweetwater: 2

 

Here the captain detailed substantially what had*hap- |
| pened to him from the time he had encountered Pawnee
\ Bill m Cheyenne. ;

“When I was.with Buffalo Bill and Nomag,” he went
on, “and when I heard that the soldiers were coming, I
was filled with alarm and ran away. I found a h6rse in
the brush by the trail—I have learned since that it was
White Wolf’s horse—and I rode ‘toward Umbass-a-hoos’
village. When I reached there I found an unknown

friend.”

He turned and laid his hand on Crooked Ben’s shoul-
der.

‘“Umbass-a-hoos, following a request from Buffalo Bill,
furnished us with an extra horse and a Crow escort and
sent us to the post. I had no fear of coming after I had
talked with Crooked Ben. At the post trader’s I got
my uniform. A bath and a shave, and then, properly
clothed, I-eamie on here.”

There’ was something pathetic about Captain Hollis.
He was a fine-looking officer, but it was plain that the
blow which had brought him into disgrace had struck
deep into his soul. His mind had been somewhat affected
through much brooding over the dishonor that had been
heaped upon him.

“Now, said Crooked Ben, “‘let me speak, colonel.”

Then, substantially as he had already recounted the
story to the scout and Nomad, he told of the destruction
of the wagon train and of the confession made by Cum-
mings. He produced the written confession signed by
Cummings, and then, cleverly, step by step, he showed the
colonel how Blix had shot Eldridge and had contrived to
place the blame on Hollis.

The colonel was not convinced. The evidence was in-
teresting, and reopened the whole case greatly in Hollis’
favor, but the evidence was not conclusive. At that mo-
ment, when Crooked Ben was peering into the colonel’s
face for some expression of the sentiment uppermost in
his soul, the orderly presented himself breathilessly.

“Don’t bother us now,” called the colonel.

“Pardon me, sir, but this is important,’ insisted the
orderly. “Blix, the prisoner, has taken poison of some
kind and is dying in the guardhouse. The doctor says
there’s no hope for him. He wants to see the colonel.”

Here, indeed, was a tragic sequel to the affair of Hollis
and Eldridge. The colonel jumped out of his chair.

“Come on,” he called, “all of you.” He paused a mo-:

then tna’ Nhe ipl <i Nts “hls —etan Mink ay ce ot ite el rigs

Phe Ole Nh i me RI Ute tee te te tee em Re nai

BILL STORIES. ; 27

ment in the outer office. “Adjutant,” he went on, “bring |
pen, ink, and paper and come over to the guardhouse.
Hurry, man!”

Be,

CHAPTER XVI.
A SORRY: END;

It was a strange scene, there in the guardhouse. The
colonel stood beside a cot on which lay Abraham Blix,
tossing with pain afd slowly sinking into the Valley of the
Shadow. On the other side of the cot sat the adjutant,
taking down his story as he told it. A little to one side
stood a guard, and around the foot of the cot were clus-
tered the three Bills, old Nomad, Crooked Ben, and Cap-
tain Hollis.

“Yes, I shot Eldridge,’ ran the burden of the prison- »
er’s confession. “I hated him, and I hated Hollis. They
had reprimanded me for failure to do my duty at stables,
and I wanted a chance to play even with both of them. I[
heard about their quarrel over the cards in the officers’
mess. Already I had secured one of Hollis’ revolvers,
and I put it up with Cummings to get Hollis over near
Eldridge’s quarters. I tapped on the lieutenant’s window,
then I stepped back and waited. As the window went up
I could see Cummings and Hollis coming across the
parade ground. Then I fired and threw the revolver
under Eldridge’s window... I saw the lieutenant stagger
and drop limp across the sill. After that, I slid around
the rear of officers’ row and got back to barracks.

“Cummings disappeared. Everything went off as I had
planned. I saw Hollis confronted. with the evidence of
his crime and thrust into the guardhouse. His escape
worried me. I was afraid he would find Cummings and
get Cummings to talk. That is why I deserted. I went
into the Indian country and madé friends with the Sioux.
It was I who steered a party of hostiles against that
wagon train where Cummings was driving one of the
wagons. I breathed freer when I knew Cummings was
out of the way, but I was still worried about Hollis.

“T drifted around the Indian country, and finally
spotted Hollis in Cheyenne. It-was in the Tivoli. Hollis
was dressed like a tramp, but I knew him. He was
thrown out of the Tivoli, and I tried to knife him.”

“He tried to put me out of the way twice before that,”
muttered Hollis, to Buffalo Bill. “He forgets.”

“T followed Hollis like a hound when he left\@heyenne.
I had seen flashes of light guiding him, and smoke clouds
showing him the way. They bothered me. When he
traveled north with the gold hunters I rode on ahead
and saw the hunchback who was back of the signals. I
chased him, bound him hand and foot, and left him in
his hole in the rocks, then, with one Sioux, I went back
and started the smoke signals myself. I wanted to ‘get’

Nai a Motta ne AAS tsi: GR oan Anos

 

  

    
 

 

hy THE BUFFALO
Hollis. as long as he Mas alive I was afraid of him.
od

Very quietly the words died in the man’s throat. His
head fell back and his eyes closed. The post doctor
stepped forward from the other side of the room, touched
his breast, felt his pulse, then pulled a blanket over his
face. ce

“This is the end, colonel,’ said he.

“Where did he get the poison?” asked the colonel.

“He had soaked his handkerchief in it and then dried
the handkerchief. All he had to do was to ask for a drink
of water and then wet the handkerchief and squeeze it
out in the cup: He was prepared, it seems, for whatever
happened to him. He was bound, by hook or crook, to
cheat the cause of justice.”

“But he has not,” said the colonel solemnly, ‘fof his
confessions clears of all stain the name and fame of Cap-
tain Hollis.”

“There was some good in his taking off, then,” said
the doctor. “Hollis, let me congratulate you.”

The ranks of the “I told you so” party were greatly
added to when the substance of the prisoner’s confession
spread over the post.

In officers’ row and in the barracks every one was say-
ing that he had never panned Hollis guilty of Eldridge’s
taking off.

But what,had all this in it that could benefit the man
whose reason had been impaired by an unjust accusation?

“He will get over that flighty trend, after a while,’
said the colonel hopefully. “When he is among the boys
at the post for a few weeks Hollis will be himself again.
Mark my words.”

Everybody hoped so, and everybody was doing every-
thing he could to be nice to the captain. The captain
seemed to appreciate it, but he had no desire for any-
body’s society save that of Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, Pawnee
Bill, and Crooked Ben. He never tired of being with the
Bills or with the hunchback.

“They were my friends when I was all but friendless,
worthy commander,” he said to colonel, bees I owe
them more than I can ever repay.”’

The escort of Crows that had brought Hollis and
Crooked Ben to the post was sent back with a fine blanket
for the chief from Wild Bill, and with some gold from
Buffalo Bill.

vol Ben, as soon as he could get away from Hollis,
prepare Mto return to his cavern at Lone Tree Hill.

The scout tried to persuade him not to return to the
place, but the hunchback merely shook his head.

“Then,” said the scout, “if you’re bound to go, ake
White Wolf’s horse. The renegade stole your own mount
and it’s only right that you should take the animal.”

2?

“l will, with gratitude,’ answered Crooked Ben, “If

 

 

 

BILL STORIES.

you re ever out Lone Tree Hill way again, Buffalo Bill,
drop in and see me—no matter whether I have the flag
hoisted or not.”

“Be sure of that,” returned the scout heartily.

That night, on Holcomb’s porch, Holcomb and the three
Bills were discussing the hunchback.

“He’s as daft in one way as Hollis is in another,’
avetred Holcomb.

“Fhere’s a method in his madness,” said Pawnee Bill.

“What method was there in that signal business?”

“Crooked Ben was afraid of Blix,” put in Wild Bill.

“He didn’t know that Blix was the man in the gray
shirt,’ answered Holcomb. “And, if he didn’t know that,
how could he possibly have been afraid of Blix?”

“He might have feared Blix on general principles,’

9?

spoke up the scout. “Crooked Ben knew that Blix had |

deserted, and he may even have known that he was in
the Indian country. After Cummings’ confession, Ben
was well aware that, if Hollis was alive, Blix would be
afraid of him. In the circumstances, quite naturally Blix
would have tried to get Hollis out of the way, because,
only by so doing, could Blix feel sure that no noose would
ever go around his own neck.”

“Well,” said Holcomb, ‘maybe there was method in
that signal work, but it all seems sort of useless to me.
A personal meeting, and a dozen words on the Sweet-
water, would have settled the matter, and Hollis and
Crooked Ben could have made their way to the Little
Big Horn without any trouble whatever.” cat

“No man ever goes about any important business mat-

ter exactly the same as does another man,” said the scout..

“Take that into consideration, Holcomb, when you’re
judging Crooked Ben.” fu

“And also take into consideration,’ added Wild Bill
warmly, “that Crooked Ben took grave risks in befriend-

ing Hollis, and that only a generous nature prompted him |

to do what he did.”
“He? s a good fellow, that Croked Ben,” said Holcomb.
“Check,’’ said Pawnee Bill.
“Pard Cody,” remarked the Laramie man, “has lost a

tramp pard.”

“But Cody, and all of you,” returned Holcomb; “have
gained the lifelong friendship of Captain Hollis.”

THE END.

we ®
The Bills and their pards are having busy work nowa-

days. Indians, good and bad, are keeping them on the
jump, without much time for resting; and a few white
men, who try to keep pace with the Indians in treachery
and all sorts of bad business, add to the excitement, and
keep everybody guessing most of the time. Next week
you will get a few new thrills in “Buffalo Bill On the
Upper Missouri; or, Pawnee Bill’s Pick-up.” No. 505.
Out January. a

 

  
  

o
S

7)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-NEW YORK January 7, 1911.

 

 

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JOSH BAGNELL’S MAGIC BUGLE.

“You had better remain where you are to-night,” said
the keeper of the hotel. “I will make you up a bed by the
fire. The journey to Randall’s Flat is a dreary one, and it
is just the sort of night for a pack of wolves to-be abroad.”

Josh Bagnell laughed and shook his head.

“Look at that lot,’ he said, pointing to a wagon laden
with goods. “I promised my customers to be at Randall’s
Flat to-night and I will keep my word. Why, every good
housewife anxious to make her Christmas puddings and to
look her best when she goes to church to-morrow morning,
would bestow a sorry look upon me if I remained here.”

It was Christmas Eve and as cold and bitter a night as
ever settled over a Canadian district.

The hard-frozen snow glistened as if it had been plenti-
fully sprinkled with diamond dust, and the wind roared
mournfully among ‘the pines.

Josh Bagnell was looked upon as a jolly, merry-hearted

fellow, who might be relied upon, as far as keeping his time,

with the exactitude of a chronometer.

There was always a hearty welcome for him everywhere,
as he ‘could sing a good song, tell many a laugh-provoking
story, and play the bugle like an accomplished musician.

This instrument he always carried hung at his side, and
when the way was long and lonely Josh treated himself and
his plump, well-fed, and fast-going horses to a cheery tune
or two.

“It keeps the cold out better than brandy,’ he would say.
“And, besides, it lightens the journey and makes me think
of dear old home. Where do you get airs like “Tom Bowling,’
‘My Pretty Jane,’ and ‘When Other Lips’ ?”

“Well,” said the innkeeper, glancing wistfully up at the
sky, “you will do as you like, 1 know; but I wouldn’t drive
twenty miles in the teeth of such a freezing wind, and
perhaps a snowstorm as well; for all the dollars that were
ever minted. i

“Nor would I,” Josh Bagnell replied; “but my word is my
bond.” So, here goes; and if I fall in with the wolves I must

do my best to get rid of them.”

He tapped his belt, in which he carried a brace of formida-
ble revolvers, and then, unslinging his bugle, he blew a loud
blast upon it, and, climbing to the box seat, shook up the
reins and set the horses going at a sharp trot.

The landlord looked grave and anxious as he returned to
the log fire, at which several other men were sitting.

“Tosh is as foolhardy as he is brave,” he said. “Were I
he, the women might wait for their groceries and finery.”

  

 

BILL STORIES. oo 29

“Same here,” observed a farmer as he held a glass filled
with amber-colored liquid up to the light. “But if Josh
will have his own way where is the need to trouble our
heads about him?”

“It would be a bad thing to lose him,” said a trapper who
had been frozen out of his quarters. “We could not get on
very well without him.”

“Granted,” the farmer returned. “But if he will run into
the jaws of death there is no law to prevent him.”

“IT think,” said the proprietor, “that we will change the
topic. It makes my flesh creep to imagine what the dark
paths across the forest to Randall’s Flat are like on a night
like this.”

“Well,” rejoined the farmer, “we will end the matter by
saying that Josh is a good specimen of pluck, and we will wish
him well to the end of his journey.”

“Bravo!” cried everybody. “We will drink to that toast
with all our hearts.”

In the meantime Josh Bagnell had leit every trace of
civilization behind him.

But he did not care a whit for the darkness and cold.

He pulled up the huge collar of his coat, settled his hands
comfortably in his beaverskin gloves, and struck up “The Old
Folks at Home” at the top of his voice.

“Ah,” said he, pausing in his song, “I think I can see
the old home and. the old folks. Where are they now.?
Some are dead and the rest are scattered all over the world.
But, I say, Josh, you must not grow melancholy, or get
down in the dumps; that will never do at Christmas time.
I'll have a try at ‘The Mistletoe Bough.’ No, that’s a mourn-
ful ditty; and I'll try ‘When We Were Boys Together.’ ”

By this time he was in the depths of the forest and was
compelled to trust as much to the sagacity of his horses as
to his eyes.

The lofty pines, swaying in the wind, shook down showers
of frozen needles and the voice of Nature complained dis-
mally to the rude north wind as it bellowed and roared in
triumphant and savage delight.

Now and then a branch of a tree would come crashing
down, occasionally so near the horses that they would fall
back upon their haunches in affright.

“Steady, my lads; steady!’ said Josh, cracking the whip
with a sound as loud as a pistol shot. “Think of the warm
stable and extra feeds of corn you will get if you behave
yourselves well. Come, come, you are not a pair of fools!”

The horses neighed in response to his voice, and, straining
at the traces, dragged their heavy load along ata pace sug-
gesting that they felt that the sooner the dismal journey
was over the better it would be for all.

The wagon entered a more sheltered part of the forest, :
where the trees, growing closer together, checked the fury
of the wind and sent it shrieking and howling over their
tops.

‘More snow,” said Josh Bagnell as a flake settled upon his

nose. “Sill Stanton was right; there will be a heavy down-

fall soon. Whoop, lads, forward, or we .shall be hours
late at Randall’s Flat,”

Suddenly, as if by the decree of a magician, the wind
died away to a whisper, the trees ceased to sway and creak,
and stood motionless and spectral in the gloom.

Faster and faster the snow fell, until Josh Bagnell was
compelled to protect his eyes with a pair of goggles, which
gave him a hideous appearance.

_ Many a youngster, to have seen him then, would have
gone shivering to bed, to be troubled with worse dreams than
unlimited plum pudding and mince pies cause.

The downfall increased every moment.

It blotted out the paths, whirled like winding sheets round
the trees, and soon everything was covered—horses, wagon,
and driver one shapeless mass; but still going steadily for-
ward.

But Josh would not permit himself to be disheartened,
although, in spite of his gloves, his hands became so cold
that he could scarcely feel the reins, and every feature of
 

 
  

os THE\BUFFALO

his face smarted as if they had been scored with a surgeon’s
lancet. .
Presently there grew out of the silence a wail-like howl.

Josh Bagnell knew what it meant; and, raising the lappets
of his cap, listened with all his ears, as the saying goes.

“Wolves! or I am no sinner,” he said, grasping the
whip; “and, if there be a full pack of them, they will give
me no end of trouble.”

Again that awful telltale yell rang in his ears, and,
settling himself down, Josh began to ply the whip.

It cut him to the heart to do so, for he and his horses
were the best of friends, but his life and theirs were proba-
bly in jeopardy.

‘The animals seemed to know what was the matter and
plunged wildly forward at a furious gallop.

The snow soon melted from their heated and steaming.
bodies, and Josh hallooed and shouted until he grew hoarse
and weak of lung.

He looked back, but could see nothing; yet he knew, by
the howls, that the wolves were increasing in numbers and
gaining upon him. /

Throwing aside the whip, as it was useless to attempt
to make his horses go beyond their strength, he grasped
one of his revolvers and waited.

Suddenly a pair of red and fiery eyes gleamed out of the
darkness.

“Bang I? ‘ ,

The report was fdllowed by a fiendish yell.

Other red eyes gleamed like coals and became mixed up
together, and Josh knew that his aim had been true and
that the live wolves were tearing the dead one to frag-
ments. s

Josh fired two more shots, both of which were success-
ful, as the pack stopped to glut their horrible appetites.

But the driver of the wagon knew only too well that a
few carcasses would not satisfy the hungry tribe.

And he had made no mistake.

Only a few moments passed away before the wolves
were on his track again, howling and yelling in a manner
that would have turned the stoutest heart cold with fear.

One brute, more daring than the rest, leaped at the.

horses’ heads.

Josh Bagnell quieted the open-jawed fiend with a bullet,
and again a scramble took place for the flesh of the dead
animal.

*This state of things could not last long.

The pack of wolves was a large one, and others, scenting
prey, joined it, and rushed out from all parts.

The forest seemed to be alive with the bloodthirsty
brutes.

Now they were leaping, snarling, and snapping at the
horses and at each other, atid, more than once, Josh Bagnell
had a narrow escape of being dragged off the wagon.

Having emptied the chambers of his revolvers, there was
no help for him but in the mercy of Providence and such
blows as he could deal with his long, sharp bowie knife.

He had begun to despair, when a thought flashed through
his brain.

It filled him at once with hope and sorrow. ©

His only chance lay in cutting the traces and letting his
horses go.

Yet it was almost a merciful thing to do, as the poor
animals were shrieking and plunging to such an extent

that Josh had lost all command over them, and he feared.

that, in their terror-stricken antics, they might turn the
- wagon over.

“Tll cheat you yet,” Josh Bagnell cried in a half light-
headed manner. “But, alas! for my poor horses. Good-by,
Hector; good-by, Whitefoot! Heaven above! I would fight
it out to the bitter end if I thought there was a single ray
of hope. And—and I have a wife and little ones, who ex-

pect to see me at my fireside to-morrow!”
Leaning forward, he slashed at the traces with his bowie
knife, and in a moment the horses were free. i

 

BILE” STORIES:

Tn another they had torn the rest of the harness that
held them to the wagon asunder, and, parting company,
galloped madly, one to the right, and one to the left into the
depths of the forest.

The pack broke into two sections and followed.

Josh Bagnell knew what would happen.

He closed his ears against the death shrieks of the
doomed animals, and then hastened to replenish the cham-
bers of his revolvers with cartridges. “ as

Hé had just sufficient, and had scarcely completed the
task when back came the wolves, apparently as voracious
and insatiable as ever. wae

Josh waited their arrival with unnatural calmness.

Must he die?

Must he lose his life, though he sold it dearly?

In that bitter moment he thought of the warnings given :

to him at the saloon, but they died away as a vision rose
before his eyes. :

It was of a comely woman, surrounded by pretty children,
and ‘she was telling them of the dark and lonely way
their father had taken, so that they might have bread, clothes,
and warm beds to sleep in.

Fears sprang into his eyes and the rage of a wounded
giant into his heart. ig
His finger was steady on the trigger, and down, down
went one wolf after another. :

But still they came on.

Their name was legion; and Josh Bagnell felt that unless
timely help came he must perish.

It would soon be over.

A few sharp pangs and his eyes would close forever, and
morning would find no trace of him save the snow reddened
by his blood.

“Heaven knows,” he cried, “that I anf®not afraid to meet
death, even in this terrible form. But my wife; my darling
children! Who will look after you when I am gone?”

He had recourse again to the bowie knife, but it was a
feeble weapon against such odds.

His arm began to tire, while the strength of the wolves
seemed to increase. f

Josh, scarcely knowing what he was doing, hurled the
packages from the. wagon into the midst of the pack, and
this ruse succeeded in keeping the brutes at bay for a time.

Suddenly he bethought himself of the bugle.

id

It might so happen that other travelers were passing

through the forest.
_ It was the merest thread of a hope—a straw for a drown-
ing man in a stormy ocean; but Josh clung to it.

Raising the bugle to his lips, he made the forest ring’

again and again.
Was he mad or dreaming?
Looking over the side of the wagon he beheld, to his

astonishment, the wolves squatting on their haunches, their —

ears pricked back, and all apparently listening with the great-
est satisfaction to the notes of the instrument.

The moment Josh Bagnell stopped the wolves began to
snarl and manifested signs of hostilities.

So the driver of the wagon sat arid played one tune
after another.

_He gave his strange audience every air he could think
of in regular succession.

His lips and fingers grew: blue with cold, but he played
on, and played for dear life.

And the wolves, with lolling tongues and staring eyes,
sat enjoying the entertainment. : ee

Josh had no idea of the time; but he was fully con-
vinced that the wolves would not move until daylight
came.

And here we must leave him, blowing away with al-
most cracked cheeks, while we skip across the forest and _

go to Randall’s Flat.
* * * * * * *

Everybody said that something must have happened to

   

  

 

 

 
em us or home.”

7) when one of the men said th

 

 

  

THE BUFFALO

Josh Bagnell, and it goes without telling that what every-

body says must be true—except, as it sometimes turns out,

when everybody is wrong, and all are willing to take their

| oaths that they said so all along.

One settler declared that Josh had feared to face the
storm or had turned back.

| This notion was at once indignantly cried down.

Josh Bagnell would not have broken his word even if

' earthquakes made the ground gape beneath him.

| At last, after much argument, it was decided that Bag-

f nell’s team had broken down, and that unless he arrived

| before midnight a party of armed men and boys would

| go in seach of him.

| Twelve o’clock came, but nd Josh Bagnell.

“Now, lads,” cried a sturdy settler, shouldering a rifle,

| "we will be off. If Josh is in the forest I expect he is not

| very far away. Light the torches—and forward!”

| The snow lay deep and progress was slow in spite of the

| willing horses the searchers bestrode.

| Mile after mile they went, but came upon no sign to sug-

' gest that a traveler had passed along the main track.

“Perhaps,” said one, “Josh has took to Overton’s Pines.”

“Josh is no fool!” cried another. “The snow would drift
f deeper there than here; and, besides, I know that he

Mm never leaves the main path. .So it is either forward with

A parley was held and it was almost decided to go back,
the thought he heard the
sound of a wind instrument in’ the distance.

It was the faintest echo of a note, according to. the
' man’s own statement, and there were plenty ready to laugh
® him to scorn; but he held to his statement and begged that

_ all would be quiet.

. And, sure enough, they were soon satisfied.

The faintest strains of “Pop Goes the Weasel” came to
their-ears in tather discordant notes and with no attention
to time 3 ce is
“That can’t be Josh Bagnell playing his. bugle?’ said
one.

“Tf it is,” laughed another, “he has started keeping Christ-
mas more merrily than wisely in the forest.”
| Vet,” added a third, “Josh is a temperate man and knows
| better than to make an ass of himself when in charge of
his wagon and-horses. At all events, a bugle does not play
by itself, and we had better see -who‘is at one end of at.”

Suddenly the bugle stopped and then a far different sound
rang through the air. i
| “Wolves!” shouted the leader of the party.
| all! Get your rifles and revolvers ready, lads.
* for the rescue!” ae 4

Dashing out of the opening in the forest, at which they
had stopped to discuss the situation, they came upon. the
scene of Jésh Bagnell’s misfortunes just in time to save
hie Pe en cet Wee ecm er nan mnt se el
‘A wolf had already fastened upon the sleeve of his thick
fur-lined. coat; but the brute was dispatched in a moment
and the rest fled. SUA
josh gave one grateful look at his rescuers and swooned;

| but a little brandy soon brought him round and he was
able to tell the story of his night of horrors.

In triumph’ the settlers bore him to Randall’s Flat and
feasted him as if he were a prince; but in the house at

“Forward,
Hurrah

a which he stopped the looking-glass was removed before he

' entered it. Se)

‘His hair had turned as white as the snow that rested on
| the roof and he had changed in appearance from a young
| man-to:an old-one. ue Re te :
| ~XA-night’s rest made a considerable change for the better
'and then they told him about his hair.
| Josh Bagnell only laughed.

“Tf it had come off altogether
| surprised,” he said.
| dye I sell and I must .try it myself. Friends, how can I
| thank you? I was quite played out when you arrived;

I should not have been

“Well, | have often boasted about the

   

BILL STORIES. — | 31

but I cannot blame my bugle for that. It helped me to
save my life and all the. money in the world could not
prevail upon me to part with it.”

Josh went back to his home and the people of Randall’s
Flat had to do without their groceries; but sufficient things
were found and there was not, as you may suppose, a single

murmur against the hero of the Magic Bugle.

A GOOD RULE.

A man who is very rich now was very poor when he was a
boy. When asked how he got his riches, he replied: “My
father taught me never to play till my work was finished, and
never to spend my money till I had earned it. If I had but
an hour’s work in the day, I must do that first. After this T
was allowed to play; and I then could play with much more

pleasure than if I had the thought of an unfinished task be-

fore my mind. I soon acquired the habit of doing everything
in time, and it became perfectly easy to do so. It is to this L
owe my prosperity.” Let every boy who reads this go and
do likewise. !

THE OCEAN’S FLOOR.

Recent ocean surveys reveal the fact that the Atlantic, if
drained, would be a vast plain with a mountain range in the
middle running parallel with our coast. Another range
crosses it from Newfoundland to Ireland, on the top of which
lies the submarine cable. The ocean is thus divided into three
basins, no longer “unfathomable depths.” The tops of these
mountains are two miles below a sailing ship, and the basins,

according to Reclus, almost five miles. Those mountains are

whitened for thousands of miles by a tiny, creamy species of
shell, laying as thickly on their sides as frost crystals on a
snow bank. The deepest parts are red in color, heaped with
volcanic masses. Through the black, motionless waters of
these abysses move gigantic, abnormal creatures never seen
in upper currents. There is an old legend coming down to
us from the first ages of the world on which these scientific
sea soundings cast a curious light. Plato and Solon record
the traditions, ancient in their days, of a country in the west-
ern seas where flourished the first civilization of mankind,
which by volcanic eruption was submerged and lost. Doctor
Bourboug and other eminent archeologists assert that this
lost continent extended from the coast of Africa to near the
West Indies. The shape of a plateau discovered in survey-
ing the ocean’s floor corresponds with this theory exactly.

A TRAITOR SPURNED.

In the winter of 1777, while the American army was en-
camped at Valley Forge, under circumstances of a most dis-
heartening nature, a man, wearing the British uniform, but
with a face of low cunning, stealthily approached Washing-
ton’s headquarters under cover of a night of intense black-
ness, and presented himself before the commander in chief.
Looking cautiously around as though to be sure that there
were no listeners, he said, in a deep, incisive voice:

“I happen to be in possession of important knowledge in
regard to the movements of the British now in Philadelphia.
What will you give me in exchange for it?”

“Give you?” exclaimed the indignant chief, rising and
drawing his majestic figure to its full height. “If ] gave you
your deserts, I should give you a bullet through your cow-
ardly black heart, six feet of earth for your miserable car-
cass, and the contempt and obloquy of all mankind.”

Then pointing to the door, in a voice of thunder, he bade
him begone.

The pitiful wretch skulked away and rejoined a companion,
who was waiting for him in a thicket near by.

“Well,” whispered his accomplice, as they cautiously made
their escape, “what luck ?”

“Luck?” was the reply, in the same low tone. “I have

had the luck to find that there is one honest man in the world,
and that his name is George Washington.” a

  
 

 

 

   

splendid Western character. High art colored covers.

730—Diamond Dick’s Daring Dash; or, The Stranding of Jock.

731—Diamond Dick’s Throw for Life; or, Won by Quick Action.

732—Diamond Dick’s Wonderful Work; or, The Adventures of
the Dawson Gem.

733—Diamond Dick’s Kindly Bluff; or, Zack Bender’s Luck.

734—Diamond Dick’s Strategic Struggle; or, The Plan of the
Combined Gangs.

9735—Diamond Dick’s Wise Action; or, The Great Boontown
Robbery.

The heroes of the stories published in this weekly are dear to the hearts of 60,000
Thirty-two big pages.

   

boys. Diamond Dick is 4
Price, 5 cents.
737—-Diamond Dick Takes a Chance; or, The Yellow Peril of
Ozalia. :
738—Diamond Dick on a Baffling Trail; or, The Secret of the |
Ivory Hoard. :
739—Diamond Dick’s Trail to Nome; or, The Old Sourdough’s
Claim fot a Million, : :
740—Diamond Dick’s Wireless Trick; or, The Flight of the
White Bird, :
741—Diamond Dick in a Perilous Path; or, The Testing of Ne-
O-Che, the Hunter.

   

y36—Diamond Dick’s Snare; or, The Trail of the Lone Hand. 742—Diamond Dick’s Log Team; or, The Trail to the Yukon.

BUFFALO BILL STORIES

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493—Buffalo Bill at Cafion Diablo; or, Pawnee Bill’s Railroad ) 499—Buffalo Bill and the Men of Mendon; or, Pawnee Bill's

 

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495—Buffalo Bill and the Red Horse Hunters; or, Pawnee Bill’s Pot of Gold.

Peril.

496—-Buffalo Bill’s Dangerous Duty; or, Pawnee Bill and the
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Triple Bill. s

498—Buftalo Bill at Tinaja Wells; or, Pawnee Bill’s Target
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All kinds of stories that boys like. ‘The biggest and best nickel’s worth ever offered. High art colored
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400—Fighting the Redcoats; or, The Boy Heroes of the Revolu-
tion. By T. C. Harbaugh.

407—-A Fine Spun Plot; or, Bowery. Billy and the Alibi. By
ohn. R. Conway.

408—In the Colonial Navy; or, The Adventures of Dashing Paul

Jones. By Frank Sheridan.

409—A Golden Find; ar, Paving the Road to Fortune. By John
E. Dotiglas.

410—Lucky Tom, Messenger; or, When the Number Thirteen
Was Lucky. By John R. Douglas.

41I—The Mysterious Hermit; or, Bowery Billy in Greenwich
Village. By John R. Conway.

501—Buffalo Bill and the Russian Plot; or, Pawnee Bill and the
Grand Duke.

502—Buffalo Bill’s Red Triangle; or, Pawnee Bill and the Sign
of the Three.

503—Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush; or, Pawnee Bill and the Five
Dukes.

 

412—From Bootblack to Grandee; or, Charles Manton and

Montezuma’s Treasure. By John R. Douglas.

413—The Stolen Portrait Mystery ; or, Bowery Billy in Bohemia.
By John R. Conway.

414—Three Speeds to Victory; or, Motoring for the Borden
Cup. By Stanley R. Matthews.

415—The Young Magician; or, Conjurifg to Fame and Fortune.
By John L. Douglas.

416—The Panhandlers of Essex Street; or, Bowery Billy on the
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417—Motesing in the Depths; or, Raiding the Rebels in a Sub-
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BUFFALO BILL STORIES

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

®

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.
weekly for many years,

Buffalo Bill is more popu
know all there is to know about him.

These stories have been read exclusively in this
and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.

lar to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to
In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUPRFPALO BILL SFORTES.

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.

245—Buffalo
250—Buffalo

252—Buffalo’
One

3—-Buffalo

254

256—Buffalo
258—Buffalo
267—Buffalo
272—Buftalo
273—Butffalo
74—Buffalo
275— Buffalo
78—Buffalo
283—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
287— Buffalo
288— Buffalo
292—Buffalo
2938—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306— Buffalo
308—Buffalo
309—Buffalo
312—Buffalo
314—Buffalo
315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
324—Butffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329— Buffalo
330—Buffalo
331—Buffalo
332— Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334— Buffalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—Buffalo
389—-Buffalo
340— Buffalo
341— Buffalo
342— Buffalo
343-——Buffalo
344—Buffalo
345—Buffalo
346—Buffalo
348—Buftfalo
849—Buffalo
350—Buffalo
351—Buffalo
352—-Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354—Buffalo
355—Buffalo
356—Buffalo
357—Buffalo
358—Buffalo
359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
362— Buffalo
363—Buffalo
264—Ruffalo
366—Buffalo
367—Buffalo
368—Buffalo

Bills; ost Quartys.. 5...

5

Bill on-a Wonesnunt. oo oe se 5

Bill and che Redskin Wizard
Bill’s Bold Challenge.......
Bills Shawnee Stampede....
Bill on a Desert Trail......
Bill in Tight Quarters..-...
Bill in the Canyon of Death.

5
5
5
5

5
o

Bil’s Dusky. Wrailers.. 2... 5

Bill’s Diamond Mine........
Bill and the Pawnee Serpent
Bills Scarlet Hand

Bills ‘Daring. Blunge «2% 3...
Buhl Peeve StU ats eens ctec ene
Bill’s Master-stroke.........
Bill and the Brazos Terror. .
Bill’s Dance of Death

Bill’s Medicine-lodge........ 5

Bi a Penis acc ess io cue
Bills Black Wagles.........%

Bill’s Desperate Dozen...... 5

Bill and the Barge Bandits

Bill, the Desert Hotspur.... 5

Bill’s Whirlwind Chase.....
Bills Red Retribution......

Bills: Death: Umpc oie. 5

Bill in the Jaws of Death....
Bill’s Aztec
Bill’s Dance with Death.....
Bill’s Mazeppa Ride........
Bilis<Gypsy, Band: 2c. ese
Bills Gold, HuMiers. secs. 3s
Bill in Old

OUMMOTRS ce... 5

INTRA COl says ctstesstee 5

Bill’s Message from the Dead 5

Bill and the Wolf-master....
Silie Hi yAne SWOmMders <5 co.cc.
Bile SEbidden! “Golds ee
Bill’s Outlaw, Pratl) oe.
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and tle Mad Marauder..
Bill’s Ice Barricade...

Bill and the Robber Blk..... |
Billige: Ghost -Dances.3 sss. 5

BIS) Pea ce-pIp ei. .cs 3/55 0c es
Bilis; Red Nemesisn cc... aj.
Bill’s Enchanted
Bill in the Desert of Death..

Mesa. 1 5

Bills Pay. Streaks. ss 3 5

Bill on Detached Duty......
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill’s
Bill on Deck

Bill and the Bronco Buster. .

SUEPTISC athys ae s0 sce
Great: Ride... be.
Wiater oDnae secs wes
Ordeal of Wire: . 2.2...
Casket of Pearls......
KY Wel Ot yee

‘Arm “My Steny sc. 000s D

STPOECMIE. chee eee pies 5
Hlat-boat Pritt... 65. :

Bill’s Great Round-up...... 5

Brlliss Pled ve sii kee 6 cis
Bills Cowboy -Pardai.os 2
Bill and the Emigrants......
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s our-footed Pards....
BGS) AR POUELE: ac ee
Bill’s
BTS MOuUes tc. ion. vc ts ecsenersce s
Bulls Wait, Of tha Plains. s.
Bill Among the Mormons...
Bille SASSIstanCess na... oo
Bil’s Rattlesnake Trail.....

BICKAUD Oo. Se5.c eucere 5

5

 

3869—Buffalo
370-—Buffalo
371—Buffalo
372— Buffalo
374—Buffalo
375—Buffalo
377—Butféalo
378—Buftalo
379—Buffalo
380—Buffalo
881—Buffalo
382—Buffalo
883—Buffalo
384—Buffalo
385—Buffalo
386—Buffalo
387—Buffalo
388—Buffalo
389—Buffalo
390—Buffalo
391—Buffalo
392—Buffalo
393—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buffalo
396—Buffalo
397—Buffalo
398—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Buffalo
401—Butffalo
402—Buffalo
403—Buffalo
404—Buffalo
405—Buffalo
406—Buffalo
407—Buffalo
408—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—RBuffalo
411—Buffalo
412—-Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—Buffalo
415—Buffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Buffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Buffalo
421—Buffalo
422—Buffalo
4°3—Butffalo
424—Buffalo
425—Ruffalo
496—Buffalo
49°7—Buffalo
49°8—B-1ffalo
4°9—Buffalo
480—Buffalo
431—Buffalo
432—Buffalo
423—RBuffalo
424—Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
437—Buffalo
438—Buffalo
429-——Buffalo
440—Buffalo
441—Buffalo
449_Ruffalo
443—Raffalo
444—Buffalo

Bill and the Slave-Dealers... 5
Bills Strons, Arms . 10's. 7. 5
Bills Girl Pardes qo. cose << 5
Bill’s Iron Bracelets........ 5
Bis: wade “Amulet sc... 7e. 5
Bill’s Magic Lariat......... 5
Bill’s Bridge of Fire........ 5
BTS) BOWles coc cles oo escee ooo
IBIS Bay-streak, 56 2.0...
SHS) MIMO ees aio tec oece cuore
IS CLEAN AWD: ccs retiree eos
TUS ARUISC a ec ies ouiatene se cere
it Ovenpoardi «scr. ccs cen 5
PSU RUMI esis eos) Secs ee oer ae 5
Bis Bie Contract... 23)... 5
Bill and Calamity Jane..... 5
Bill’s Kid Pard

Bill’s Desperate Plight...... 5
Bill’s Fearless Stand.......
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bill’s Guiding. Hand........
Bill’s Queer Quest..........- 5
Bill’s Prize ‘“‘Getaway”..... f
Bill’s Hurricane Hustle.....
IBS Stare Play cc ceo es ace 5
Wpilieee Blues iciee isc creo E
Biles: | UraeCkerg isc... 65 ei fi
BULLS Dutch weardes.) cs... =
Bill and the Bravo......... :
Bill and the Quaker........
Bill’s Package of Death.....
Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
Bill’s Private War.......... é
Bill and the Trouble Hunter. &
Bill and the Rope Wizard.... 5
Bilis: “MieSta cae ees ce ees 5
Bill Among the Cheyennes...
Bill Besieseds seine aes
Bill and the Red Hand......
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift......
Bill and the Specter........ 5
Bill and the Red Feathers...
Bill’s King Stroke..........- D
Bill. the Desert Cyclone...
Bill’’s Cumbres Scouts....... é
Rill and the Man-wolf...... F
Bill and His Winged Pard... §
Bill at Babylon Bar........ Ri
Pill’s Long Arm.........--- S
Bill’s Steel Arm Pard.......
Bills Aztec Guide.......--
Rill and Little Firefyv......
Rill in the Aztee City......
Bill’s Balloon HEseane.....--
Pill and the Guerrillas......
Bill’s Rorder War......----
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up.......
Bill and the Gamecock..... 5
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders =
Bill’s Whirlwind Finish.....
Bill’s Santa Fe Secret......
Rill and the Taos Terror....
Bills Bracelet of Gold......
Bill and tLe Rorder Baron...
Bill at Salt River Ranch....
Bill’s Panhandle Man-bunt..
Bill at Blossom Range......
Bill and Juniner Joe.:......
Ril’s Binal Scoop.........-
Rill at Clearwater..........
Ril’s Winning Aland.......
Bulls Cinch= Claim. os. 3.3 =>
Bills Comrades.) . Soc

CUO DIA OOO OUOUIUOU SUSU

 

445—Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Butffalo
448—Buftfalo
449—Butffalo
450—Buffalo
451—Buftfalo

mosa

452—Buffalo
453—Buftalo
454—Buffalo
455—Butffalo
456—Buffalo
457—Buftalo
458—Buffalo
459—Buffalo
460—Buffalo
461—Buffalo
462—Buffalo
463—Buffalo
464—Buffalo
465—Buffalo
466—Buffalo
467—Buffalo
468—Buffalo
469—Buffalo
470—Buffalo
471—Buffalo
472— Buffalo
473—Buttalo
474—Buffalo
475—Buffalo
476—Bufialo
477—Buffalo
478—Buffalo
479—Buffalo
480—Buffalo
481—Buffalo
482—Buffalo
483—Buffalo
484—Burffalo
485—Buffalo
486—Buffalo
487—Buffalo
488—Buffalo
489—Buffalo
490—Buffalo
491—Buffalo
492—Buffalo
493—Buffalo
494—Buffalo
495—Buffalo
ers
496—Butffalo
497—Buffalo
498—Buffalo
499—Buffalo
500—Buffalo
501—Buffalo
502—Buffalo
503—Buffalo
504—Buffalo
505—Buffalo
506—Buffalo
507—Buffalo

Bill in the Bad Lands......
Bill and the Boy Bugler....
Bill and the Heathen Chinee.
Bill and the Chink War..
Bill’s Chinese Chase........
Bill’s Secret Message....... 5
Bill and the Eorde of Her- |

Bill’s Lonesome Trail....... 5
Bills: Quarry. scm ctere once += 5
Bill in Deadwood........... bi
Bik “Winst ANG seco... f

Bille Repaid.e cae ss
Bill's: Throwback: s. 3.0.2... o
Bill’s “Sight Unseen”....... 5
Bill’ s::Newe Bards 7 cn. - :
Bill’s “Winged Victory”.....
Bills Pieces-of-Hight........ 5
Bill -and the Eight Vaqueros 5
Bill’’s Unlucky Siesta..-:.... 5
Bill’s Apache Clue: ........ 5
Bill and the Apache Totem... 5
Bill’s Golden Wonder....... 5
Bille” Biestas Nignticc. 1... .
Bill and the Hatchet Boys..
Bill and the Mining Shark...
Bill and the Cattle Barons...
Bills: Long Oddsss.........
Bill, the. Peacemaker: .....
Bill’s Promise to Pay.......
Bill’s Diamond Hitch.......
Bill and the Wheel of Fate..
Bill and the Pool of Mystery
Bill and the Deserter.......
Bill’s Island in the Air...... ;
Bill, Town Marshal.........
BULES WG ate a .. 5
Bill’s Test
Bill and the Ponca Raiders...
Bill’s Boldest Stroke ....... :
Bill’s Enigma
Bill’s Blockade é
Bill and the Gilded Clique.. §
Bill and Perdita Reyes...... 5
Bill and the Boomers....... 5
Bille Cais. a walt sere. 66. :
Bill and the Ke-week Totem. 5
DES ORG rst eps cle sie eo 5
Bill at Cafion Diablo....... :
BIS ASC a secre eta yas f
Bill and the Red “Horse Hunt- _
»

OU OU OT OT OU OU OT Ot

Or OU ct

Cl

Bill’s Dangerous Duty.....-. 5
Bill and the Chief’s Daughter 5
Bill at Tinaja Wells.....--. 5
Bill and the Men of Mendon. 5
Bill at Rainbow’s End....... 5
Bill and the Russian Plot.... 5
Bill’s Red Triangle.........- 5
Bill’s Royal Flush.........-. :
Bill’s Tramp Pard .......-. :
Bill on the Upper Missouri... 5
Bill’’s Crow Scouts D
Bill’s Opium Case ......-.-- 5

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be obtained direct

from this office.

Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

 

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