SE is pasa a aac a Ne Sees . a aoe

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEVOTED 70 BORDER LIFE

 

 

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Copyright, 1911, by STREET & SMITH:

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BUFFALO oe AND THE WHITE CHIEE:

Or, PAWNEE BILLS GREAT CAPIURE.

By the author of ‘‘BUFFALO BILL.”

CHAPTER I.
LOST AND! WON,

“You have asked me for my love, Edmund Allyn, and
I tell you I have no love to give, for my heart is not
my own.”

vlt8 Douglass Dean’s——

“Yes, wholly.”

“And he is under sentence a death for murder.”

“True; yet I loye him, for all that.
his life deepens my love for him.”

“Will you marry me, and let me teach you to love me,
Irma ?”’

9

“You cotild never do that, for my heart once given, the ©

gift is irrevocable.’

“T will risk it, if you iaih Become my wie?

“You are willing to take a loveless wife, Edmund
Allyn?”

And the woman seemed to .be deeply moved at her
question.

“Yes; in your case.’

“Then I will marry you, upon certain conditions.”

“You have but to’name them, for I accept before-
hand.”

“Remember, mine is a strange nature, Edmund Allyn,
and love is everything to me. If I lost the one I loved,
then I could welcome forgetfulness in death with abso-
lute joy. Do you heed what I say?’

“Yes,” he answered, in a low tone, and het words

came back to him afterward with a vivid understanding

of their meaning.
_ “Well, listen to me, and lose not a single word.”
“T-am all attention, Irma.”
“The law has said that Douglass Dean murdered and
robbed Major Massey three months ago to-night. It

The shadow upon >

was proven, so all believed, only I do not agree with the
verdict of the jury; yet, if he did do so, | love him still,
guilty or innocent. -Now he is sentenced to be hanged
two weeks from to-day. I had intended marrying him
in prison, becoming the wife of a man under the very
shadow of the gallows; but 1 wish Douglass to live, and
I now tell you that, as you are willing to take a love-
less bride, if you will save him and aid him to escape
I will become your wife three days after he is free!’

“Do you mean this, Irma Enders?” eagerly asked the
man.

or do.

“Upon your honor?”

Nes

“You swear it?”

“Fe will,”

“Then I swear to set Douglass Dean free within the
week. Here, hold out your hand.” _

She silently obeyed, and, drawing from his own finger
a splendid ruby ring, set in a-massive band of solid
gold, he slipped it upon her wedding finger.

She turned very. pale as he did so, but did not utter a
word, while he said hoarsely:

“That is the pledge, Irma, and binds you to me. It is
my luck ring, for never did I undertake aught while
wearing it that I did not win. See, I have won this
game with you, and [ll teach you to love me. You
know me as I am, even as the world paints me, a wild,
reckless fellow, who squandered an inheritance, and is
now a gentleman gambler. That ring has won gold for
me, and it will continue to do so. It has now won you.
Good-by, and expect to hear, within the week, that Doug-
las Dean has escaped the gallows.” .

“T will hope,” the girl said softly, and the man bent

 
 

 

a THE BUFFALO

over, pressed a kiss upon the hand that wore the ruby
ring, and then walked rapidly out of the parlor.

She watched him as he descended the piazza steps,
mount his horse in the yard, and dash away.

Then she rose, but only to totter, reel, and sink upon
the floor in a dead faint.

She had sold herself for her lover’s life!

Irma Enders’ was a beautiful girl, and one with a
history. She had been found, half starved and wounded,
lying in a thicket mear a burned frontier home, when she
was but twelve years of age.

The army officer who found her heard her pitiful story
of how her parents and little sister and brother had been
murdered by a band of marauders, and she, too, had been
left for dead.

Tenderly she was cared for and nursed back to life
and health, while, having no children of his own, the
good-hearted officer had adopted her and taken her to
his wife, whose home was in the East.

Irma was an extraordinary child, a rare genius for
one so young, while her character was lovable in the ex-
treme.

She had told her adopted parents that her iter had
once been rich, and she remembered, when a very little
girl, how they had traveled in Europe, and she had
had a French nurse with pretty caps to walk after her.

But adversity had come upon her father, poverty had
followed, and he had sought a home on the far fron-
tier, where all had met such a dread fate except her-
self,

Major Enders was not a rich man, but he had a pleas-
ant home in the outskirts of an Eastern city, and every
advantage was bestowed upon little Irma by his wife
and himself, and they loved her as dearly as if she had
been their own child.

Thus she grew up to the age of nineteen, a beauti-
ful, accomplished girl, an ideal among women, the idol
of men, and a belle in society.

Major Enders had retired from the army, on account
of wounds received, when Irma was seventeen, and, liv-
ing at home, it was a very happy trio that dwelt in that
cottage near the city.

_ But a shadow fell upon Irma’s life, for she had learned

to love a man who was a mystery to all who knew him.
He had come to the town as a teacher, and, excepting
that he was well educated, had traveled extensively, and
was a Southerner, or claimed to be, nothing was known
of Douglass Dean.

His manners were courtly, a somewhat stern, and
there was a look in his blue eyes that men could not

read, while they contrasted strangely with his jet-black .

hair.

He had performed prodigies of valor one night, when
the “Young Ladies’ Academy’ had caught fire, and had
risked his life time and again to save the pupils from
death.

Irma Enders was a scholar there, going home every
Friday night until Monday, and when all believed her
lost beyond all hope, Douglass Dean had dashed into
the building again, and reappeared with her in his arms.

It was weeks before he got over that night’s brave but
fearful work, but he had become a hero of heroes, and,
more, he had won Irma Enders’ heart.

She graduated soon after, and at once became a reign-
ing belle, but she loved Douglass Dean, and it was whis-
pered about that they were engaged, when the com-

BILL STORIES.

munity were startled by the arrest of her lover for mur-
der, ‘and his. trial, conviction, and sentence soon fol-
lowed.

Then it was that another lover, thrice discarded by
her, Edmund Allyn, appeared, more earnest in his ef-
forts to win the beautiful girl.

Of good family, handsome, and a man who had squan-
dered his inheritance and turned gambler, Edmund Allyn
was yet one upon whom society could not turn its back,
and that he in the end won Irma Enders. under a pledge,
has been seen.

CHAPTER. i:
THE CRIMSON CLEW.

In the vicinity of the city wherein Irma Enders lived
dwelt an old bachelor by the name of Matthew Massey.

He had served in the Mexican War and had-won the
rank of major; but, tiring of military service, he had
given up the life of a Soldier for (Hal Of 4 merchant,
and soon was the possessor of a handsome fortune.

Retiring from business, he bought a pretty home a
couple of miles from the city, and there lived alone, ex-
cepting for the presence of two servants, a man and his
wife, who looked to his comfort.

‘The major lived well, had his horse and buggy, and
passed his time between his library and his sports, for he
hunted and fished a great deal.

Rumor had it that the major always kept his money,
from rents and interest on bonds, in his home, until the
first day of the year, when he would go in and bank or
invest his savings from his income.

Perhaps it was this that cost the old man his life, one
dark and stormy night.

His two servants had taken the buggy, to drive into
town and pass the night with a dying child, and the
major was alone.

A glass of hot toddy was upon the table at his elbow,
a fire burned in the large chimney place, and the major
was enjoying his comfort and his papers, when a knock
startled him.

Going to the front door, he admitted a form enveloped
in a storm coat and hat, and Major Massey started back
as he beheld a stranger, for he had supposed it to be his
old servants returning,

“Major. Massey?” said the visitor~ politely.

“Yes, sir, Massey is my name ; what might yours be?’

“Dean, sir—Dotiglass Dean.”
ru, Abt I have heard of you, sir, and of your heroism in
the schoolhouse fire.. You are a brave man, Mr. Dean;
but come in and or why I am indebted to you for this
call”

he major’s manner was brusque, but not unkind,
and he meant to be kind, only the world, it was said, had
not been full of happiness for him, for in early life he
had loved and lost.

The visitor laid aside his storm coat and hat, and fol-
lowed Major Massey into his cozy library, where another
log was thrown upon the fire, and a second glass gotten

‘to give a toddy to the guest.

The latter seemed nervous and ill at ease, for his face
was very pale and wore a stern expression, and of re-
solve to do some act that required nerve to execute it.

“Now, sir?” and the major handed over the ‘toddy,
which the visitor dashed off at once, as though he needed
it to brace his ‘nerves,

For the first time, the major felt nervous, as he

i
’ y
4
h

ge

 

 
 

THE BUPFALO

glanced at his visitor. He saw a handsome man, but one
who was under some strong excitement, and, wishing to be
alone again, he said:

“Now, sir, tell me how I can serve you?

Nery quickly will I, sir, and it will be to your in-
terest to do so at once and save time, and misfortune
to yourself.”

The major arched his brows, but said none, and the
caller resumed:

“You were in the Mexican War, and my father was
your rival for the hand of a lovely girl, the daughter of
a Texan ranchero. This was in forty-four. Father won
her, and, in revenge, you lured him into a game of cards,
soon after his marriage, and won from him fifteen thou-
sand dollars, all he had. Those cards you played with
were marked, so you defrauded him of that money and
came here and made it the foundation of the large fortune
you now possess.”

“It is false, sir, false! I did play with your father, if
you are the san of Douglass Dean, and won his money,
and it was a sweet revenge when he had, by false repre-
sentations, cheated me out of her who should have been
nfY wife; but it was no case of fraud, sir, and - will
not 2 ’

“Hold, oldman!’ I am no fool, to come here unpre-
pared. The facts are as I have stated; and I have come
here to get from you the amount you cheated my father
out of, and I will have it, with full interest to date on the
whole amount.”

“You threaten me; you dare

“I do threaten, ‘and the money I need, I must have, 1
will have, or I will kill you and take it from your safe
yonder.”

With a cry of rage, Major Massey sprang to his feet,
as though to rush upon his visitor, when there came the
sharp crack of a revolver, and, with a groan, the old man
sank upon the floor.

“He brought it upon himself, for he should have seen
that | was.a man upon the very verge of desperation,
for that money I must have.”

So said the murderer; and he bent over the form,
placed his hand over the heart, then looked into the face,
white and stern.

As though satisfied that his Rion had been well done,
he took from the pocket of his victim a bunch of keys,
and, going to the safe, opened it.

There was money there in plenty—gold, eee and
bank notes. He took up package after package and
thrust them into his pocket, until he grimly muttered:

“That is enough to cover the amount. Now to de-
part and leave no trace of my identity behind, for no one
will suspect me.”

Soon after he left the room, drew on his storm coat
and hat, walked out of the house into the storm, and,

 

bP

 

,mounting his waiting horse, rode on toward the town.

The sun was rising when the two old servants came,
and, while the man went to the stable to put up the
horse, his wife entered the house and made her way to
the library to see if the master was up, and to tell him
that. their child was_ better.

Opening the door, a startling sight met the woman’s

gaze.

There, upon the floor, lying face downward over a low
foot stool, was Major Massey, dead, but one hand rested
upon a newspaper upon which had been written with the

BILL STORIES. _ ; :

index finger of the right hand, and with his own blood
serving as ink:

“I was shot here and robbed by Douglass Dean ie
night. I have not strength to call for help—but before I
die, I de

There was nlo more, but the crimson clew was sufficient
to condemn, and the officers of the law soon arrested
Douglass Dean,

He was asleep in his rooms in town, is horse was sad-
dle-stained and muddy, and there was every evidence
that he had been out during the night on horseback.

Then, too, his revolver had one chamber empty, ard
the bullet taken from the body of Major Massey fitted
the weapon.

Could better evidence of guilt be needed to convict?

No one thought, of his innocence, and he admitted
that he had been to a neighboring town and returned by
the major’s home about midnight.

He pleaded “not guilty,” yet, though the money taken
was not found on him or about his rooms, the jury .
brought in a verdict according to the crimson clew left
by the dying man, and Douglass Dean was sentenced to

 

. the gallows.

Only one person in all that community Delieved in his
innocence, and that one was Irma Enders.

CHAPTER TL.
A PLEDGE BROKEN.

Pacing the floor of his cell, as far as his clanking
chains allowed him to go, and alternately turning from
the dismal interior to gaze through the grated window
out over a scene of beauty, a flowing river, green hills far
off, dotted with homes and winding roads, Douglass
Dean’s thoughts were upon the cruel present, the bitter
past, and the hopeless future.

He was a man of fine physique, a courtly gentleman
in appearance, hardly appearing like one to do a deed of
murder to get gold; but he knew that there was no hope
for him, for new trials had been refused, and proof
against him seemingly was conclusive. The victim had

been left for dead, but the old man had rallied, and, un- ~

able to rise, had dipped his finger in the crimson pool
upon the floor, and, with the blood for ink, had written
the story of his death.

Suddenly the door opened, and a visitor was admitted.

He was scarcely less pale than the doomed man, and
his voice quivered as he spoke:

“T have come to have a talk with you, Mr. Dean.”

“To rejoice before me that, while I hang, you, my
rival, will now win the woman who was pledged.to me?”

“You are severe, Mr. Dean. ‘But I’ come here with
no such purpose; my purpose is, rather, to serve you.”

“No man can serve me now.”

“You are mistaken; it is in my power to do so.”

“In what way?”

“To save you from the hangman.”

Dean started, and pe adi quickly :

Cat you do this?”

pl can,

“Tow 2”

“By bribery, of course; and I am willing to pay the
price of the two men who can be bought, the assistant
jailer and the gatekeeper. I can release you the second
night after to-night, and will supply you with the means
of escape. May I ask if you have any money?”

 
 

4 THE BUFFALO

“No. The lawyers got my last dollar, and even what

I had in my rooms I sold to pay the expenses of my
trial,’ : :

“Well, I will give you one thousand dollars, and an
outfit for your flight. It will cost about three times that
sum. to purchase the two men I spoke of, so you will be
amy debtor for your life and for the four thousand dol-

lars I shall advance. But you can cancel this debt by .

doing as I say.”

“Well. sirt

“Life is dear to you, is it not?”

“Very.”

“Dearer than all else?”

“Yes; whose lite is not?’

“Then love is a secondary consideration?’

“Ah! Iam to leave the field clear to you to win Miss
itnders ?”’

“You are to give me your pledge never to see or
speak with Miss Enders again!”

“T give the pledge, sir, if you give me my freedom
from this durance vile.”

“T will do so within forty-eight hours; but, remember,
if ] know of your coming East, or communicating with
Miss Enders again, I shall hand you over once more to
the law officers.”

“So be it, sir.”

“Then I will tell you my plot, Mr. Dean, and leave
you,”

For some time the two men talked in a low tone, but
at length Edmund Allyn took his leave, and the face
of Douglass Dean wore a different look from what it
had half an hour before.

Writing a few lines in cipher, he called to the watch-
man, and, taking from his pocket a roll of money, handed
him the note and the ten-dollar bill.

“My man, when you go off duty to-night, bear this
note to its address, and give it only into the hands of the
one whose name is here. This money will pay you for
your services.’

“Thank you, sir. I will do it, for a note can do no
harm,’ replied the watchman; and the prisoner’s face
wore a peculiar look as he turned again to the window.

f * 7 * ok 3k *

The third day after the city was startled by the tid-
ings that Douglass Dean had escaped from jail.

His manner of doing so was soon known, for the as-
sistant jailer was missing. This, of course, pointed to
bribery, especially as the gatekeeper stated that the as-
sistant had passed out at night with an old gentleman,
who, he said, had been visiting Douglass Dean.

Not a clew could be found to the fugitive’s where-
abouts. Detectives were set upon the track to discover
what they could, while large rewards were offered for
the return of the prisoner, dead or alive.

oe XK X* Me * * *
Two days later another startling piece of news thrilled

the town, for the death was reported by drowning of |

Irma Enders, the reigning belle of the community!

She had been out for a late afternoon ride on horse-
back; a thunderstorm had come up; torrents of rain had
swept away the bridge across the stream near her home.
Her horse had been found, the next morning, dead among
the débris of the bridge, lodged upon rocks below, and
the body of the rider was searched for everywhere, but
without success.

BILL STORIES.

Major Enders and his wife were inconsolable, and
hundreds of sympathizing friends joined in the search
for the missing girl. ne

Among these was Edmund Allyn, who spent his money
lavishly to urge on the search, while those who gazed
into his haggard, grief-stamped face saw that he really
suffered most deeply.

Days passed. The body was not found, and hope that
it ever would be was abandoned by all save one, Ed-
mund Allyn. From dawn to darkness he rode along the
river banks, still searching for the beautiful dead, and
not until the truth was forced upon him, that the form
of the drowned girl had been swept far away by the fierce
torrent, and would nevermore be seen, did he give up
the quest.

When at last he yielded to the inevitable, he returned
to his old-time life, living faster and more reckless than
ever, gambling more daringly..

Then one night he shot dead, at the table, one who
had called him a “card sharp”; but effected his escape,
and rumor said that he had found a refuge from the law
among the mining camps of the frontier.

CHOME dey e
Tab CAPTIVE CHILE E:

The Overland coach drew up to a group af cabins.
In it were but two passengers, a man and a woman.

The halting place was known as Valley City. It was
the breakfast station and relay house where the horses
were changed for‘another sharp drive over the moun-
tains.

That same evening there was considerable excitement
in Valley City when the night coach rolled in. The deni-
zens of the town were grouped about the door of the
“Palace Hotel,’ as a large cabin was named, and angry
cries, wild gestures, and oaths were heard upon all sides.

The cause of this disturbance was an Indian chief, who,
securely bound hand and foot, also had about his neck
a lariat, the other end of which was thrown over the limb
of a tree near by.

The Indian was silent, unmoved by his peril, and held
himself proudly erect, while he looked defiantly into the
faces of his captors.

That he was a chief, his feather headdress and strings
of bear.claws showed, while to his belt hung.a number of
scalps of various-hued hair, some short, some long, and
others apparently torn from the heads of children.

The Indian’s hair was white, and his face showed that
he had left behind him fourscore years of life, but, for
all that, his physique was a superb one, and he showed
strength and activity not to be expected from one of his
age.

“Swing ther red dog up, pards, and give Nat Lee and
ther pilgrims in ther old hearse a chance ter see him
kick,” cried the ringleader, as Nat Lee, the driver, drew
rein before the Palace Hotel.

“This shall not be!’ came in a clear, firm voice; and,
with a bound, a woman sprang from the coach to the side
of the doomed man. “You shall not hang this poor old
man,” she continued, turning her brilliant, flashing eyes
upon the crowd, who seemed fairly dumfounded at her
act and words. ~ Se

At least one had the nerve to speax, and he said apolo-
getically :

“Pardon, miss, but he are a Injun.”

 
 

Z
<

‘him ?”

“An Indian? And isi that why you would murder
The answer came frankly and to the point: :

Vas, Iss.
“What has he done that you would kill him?”

“He's a Injun, miss, and a Injun are a snake, and

‘should be scotched w’en ye catches him, yer see.”

“You are going to hang him upon general principles,
then?”

“No, miss; we is goin’ ter hang him upon thet tree,
and ther general don’t know nothin’ about it,’ replied
the borderman, to whom “‘general principles” was quite
a stranger. .

“Where did you capture him?’

“We jumped him, miss, last night, down in ther val-
ley, and so kept him over ter hang this mornin’.”

“Who. is he?’

» Ener reddest- handed Sioux on ther border, and head
medicine chief o’ ther Ogalallas, fer he are old Red Toma-
haw*.”’

“Well, he is an Indian, and it is his nature to war

against the whites, who have warred relentlessly against
his people—who have robbed him of his lands, destroyed

his villages, shot his braves, and driven the poor women

and children before them. Now you would add to
your crimes that of a public and cold-blooded murder;
but you shall not do it!” and she looked like a defiant
queen.

~The ringleader gazed at the brave gitl who thus de-
fied him, and then at his men, evidently not knowing
what to do. To be deprived of their prey was not’ to
be thought of for a minute, but how to proceed was the
question.

Red Tomahawk. was a chief who had well won his
name, and was noted among the leaders of the Sioux.

Separated from his braves, he had been captured the
night before, and by the border usage there was but one
thing to expect—death |.

The interference of the maiden surprised him,
won his admiration.

The crowd were also surprised, but wete in no temper
to be thwarted of their vengeance.

APard, dont Jet a gal,.ef she be a beauty, bully yer,
but string up ther redskin!” fiercely called out one bor-
derman.

“Vas, up with him! yelled the crowd; but stern and
firm came the reply from the beautiful woman :

‘Tsay no.

“And I says yes; so here goes; and, my beauty, you
jist stand one side, for wimmins has no right ter be at
hangin’ matches,” and the ringleader stepped toward the

and

{??

Indian once more.

       

“Stand back, I say! The chief shall not hang !’’ and
the brave girl thrust her hand under her cloak as “though
for a concealéd weapon.

“Come, my beauty, don’t play no game o’ draw and
cover on me, fer I ain’t one ter stand that even from a
gal. Jist stand aside from thet tedskin, or 1 -, hev ter
drag yer away.”

“One moment, please, my man, while I offer a little
advice, and | back it with my gun !” and the tall form
of the male passenger, who had sprung from the coach,
stepped forward and confronted the leader.

He was a man Of striking appearance, in physique and
face as well, and was dressed in what appeared: to be
the undress tiniform of a cavalry officer.

THE BUFFALO

- one who had seen much of the world.

     

BILL STORIES. . 5

Searcely over twenty-seven, he yet had the look of
His words were
uttered with the utmost calmness, and his tone was gentle
rather than stern; but his very calmness indicated that
he was a dangerous person to arouse.
“Waal, what has yer ter chip in fer?” growled the
r ingleader.,
“Simply that: you had better all go into the bar yon-

der, and drink at my expense, and let the redskin go,”

This was received ‘with delight by many, for that kind
of a crowd always is thirsty, but their ringleader and
several others did not propose. to let the redskin run, and
so the former retorted:

“I drinks nothin’ with yer, and ef yer chips in in my
game yer gits bluffed.”’

The stranger smiled, for his quick glance informed
him that the crowd believed him to be an arrny officer
and did not wish to go against his will, while there were
others who wished the plucky girl to win her point,
although they cared nothing for the Indian one way or
the sother.” |

“Do you mean that as a challenge for war?”

The leader should have read the face of the man bet-
ter before he answered and acted, for he thrust his hand
upon his revolver, and cried:

“It does!” ;

A quick movement of the stranger, a sharp report, and
before the revolver of the bully had left its holster, he
was a dead man!

A cheer broke from the crowd, for the ringleader of
that tough cohort was a dreaded border ruffan, and
hated, too. That a stranger and a “‘tenderfoot”’ had gone
him one better in the game of shoot was just cause for
astonishmertt.

“Gentlemen, take my advice and drink with me rather
than fight,” urged the stranger smilingly and uncon-
cernedly.

The cheer that followed caused him to say something
in a tow tone to his young and beautiful companion, and
then hevled. the way to the bar of the Palace Hotel,
while the Indian was quickly set free by the deft fingers
of the maiden, and told to fly.

He gave her one look of mingled gratitude and admira-
tion, and then bounded away like a deer, and, half an
hour after, when the stage rolled away from Valley
City, the cheers of the admiring bordermen followed
the two strangers until a bend in the trail hid them from
view. :

CHAPTER V.
EG Eh POND Ge) aA By

“Pard Pilgrim, ef we don’t reach ther timber afore
‘em, we is cold meat, sartin, and ef we does git thar, with
all o’ them redskins agin’ us, it ain’t sartin we doesn't
furnish ther corpses fer ther funeral.”

The speaket was a thorough type of plainsman, gray,
grizzly, with a complexion of redskin hue from sunburn,
and a form wiry, supple, and clad in buckskin.

He was mounted upon a rawboned roan, that was rin-
ning rapidly along over a Western prairie, and was
armed with rifle, revolver, and a huge bowie knife.

There were two persons with him, and two led horses,
the latter carrying large packs.

The two accompanying the old guide, for such he was,
were a man and a woman—the same, in fact, who had
taken the part of the Indian chief, Red Tomahawk, tei
 

& THE BUFFALO
i
days before they are found upon the prairie, flying for
their lives.

“The chances are.in our favor, guide,’ said the man,
turning and glancing behind him over the prairie, to
where a large band of Indians were in full chase a mile
away, and stretched out according to the speed of their
ponies. .

The man then turned his gaze with some anxiety upon
a tise in the plains, where there was a heavy growth of
timber.

The timber was three miles away, and the Indians were
slowly gaining, for the pack horses could not be forced
to greater speed, incumbered as they were.

A few days before, the man and woman had arrived
at the end of a branch of the Overland stage line, and
there had purchased horses for themselves and baggage,
‘and, securing a guide, had started for a distant mining
camp.

When within a day’s ride of their destination, they
were seen and pursued by a band of half a hundred
redskins.

Even did they reach the timber, as the old guide had
said, were they sure of beating back their foes? Might
the savages not encircle their position and starve them

39

out, even if kept at bay for days by the rifles, for there

was no help near?

It was a gloomy outlook, and the man’s face wore a
very anxious expression.

But ‘the beautiful face of the woman was unmoved;
she showed no sign of dread, whatever she might feel,
and certainly she knew her peril.

“We'll git thar, pard, but then ” said the old guide.

“Yes, we'll reach the timber,” was the calm reply.

“Thar is a pile o’ rocks thar whar a spring bubbles
up, and some thick bushes and trees that makes it a good
leetle fort, while ther critters and ther leddy kin find
a hidin’ place, too,” the guide informed his employer.

“You may hide the horses, but I am to be one of the

defenders of our little fort,.guide,” declared the brave
girl, and she smiled as she spoke.
_ “Waal, you has grit more than most men kin boast of,
and it ar’ a delight ter me ter fight fer yer, miss, so ef
I goes under I falls in a good fight,” the old plainsman
remarked gallantly.

The timber now was -just ahead, and a moment after
they dashed into it and’ rode directly for the pile of
rocks, which were some ten feet above the surrounding
land.

There was a little chasm in them into which the horses
were led and their heads fastened together; then their

 

riders sprang to positions among the rocks, for the In-.

dians were coming on with a rush, as though determined
to carry the position in the first charge.

But the guide and those he served held their guns

ready, the young girl being armed with a small repeating
rifle.
On came the redskins at a rush, those in advance
‘dropping back until others came up, when they dashed
upon the rocks with the wildest yells, firing rifles and
arrows as they Ae :

The rifles of the defenders rattled at the order of
the guide, and with deadly effect, for several mustangs
and riders went down.

The fire was hotter than the redskins had anticipated
—-hot expecting any shot from the girl, nor that the

BILL STORIES.

whites had repeating rifles, then seldom seeff upon the
plains.

So they sought cover, while their fierce yells of rage
and disappointment were enough to send terror to the
bravest heart. a, :

Soon the rocks were surrounded, the redskins seeking
the cover of trees and other obstructions as they crept
forward. 5 ;

But over the tops of the rocks rang out the rifles of
the trio at bay, and once more the redskins fell back out
of range.

“My Heaven, the guide is killed!”

The words broke from the lips of the woman, and were
true, for, with a bullet in the center of his forehead, the
old guide lay dead.

“We are doomed, for they are coming again! I shall
keep two shots, one for your heart, the other: for my
own,” and the man sprang to the side of the maiden,
who stood, rifle in hand, at her post.

®

CHAPTER VE ==
NOT A MINUTE TOO SOON.

The man and woman who stood at bay among the
rocks in the timber, with a number of Indians rushing
upon them, were strangely calm.

Their faces were pale, but upon each rested an ex-
pression of stern, resolve.

What could they do to defend themselves further ?

Nothing, they well knew; and so it was the man had
said he would keep two shots for the last moment.

When that last moment came, and hope was gone,

then the muzzle of the revolver would be placed against

the heart of the beautiful girl, and her end would be
quick and painless. >

And the same weapon would then be turned upon his
own. heart, and by his own hand, the hand that had
just taken the life of the being dearest of all to him
in the world. bes

“Tam ready!” she said, with a voice in which there
was a quiver, but no fear.

“It seems awful to die thus, to end our lives here on
the plains, after all that———”’ 2

“You have no time,” and the woman, breaking in upon
his words, stepped to his side and pointed at the coming
redskins, now almost up to the rocks.
| “True; thé end is at hand! and he raised his re-
volver and took aim at the nearest redskin.

Down the Sioux fell from the pony he bestrode, and
once more the weapon cracked, and this time a savage
gave a yell of pain, for he had been wounded.

“Two more!”

The words were uttered grimly, there in the face of
death, and a third time the weapon flashed.

A third Indian fell from his pony in the agonies of a
death wound. Co At ee

A fourth shot was about to follow, when the young
woman ‘eried: ee

“Keep it, for one may miss fire!” Be
_ He lowered the weapon, then pressed the muzzle.
against her heart just as the redskins reached the base of

“the rock pile.

But just then a wild, ringing war ery echoed through
the timber ; all the Indians wheeled their horses suddenly
and dashed back into cover. :

 
 

lke BUFFALO

Another instant and the woman would te died at

the hand of one she loved.

Then again came that wild cry, piercing, ringing, fear-
‘ful. The two on the rocks stood and gazed at each other
in wonder, surprise, and suspense.

What could it mean? Could it be that rescue had
come to them at the last minute?

But who could their rescuers be, if such they were, for
no one knew of their danger, surely ?

Yet the redskins had certainly retreated, and in won-

drous haste, and there was now not one in sight with
hostile intent, though several dead and dying and a few
ponies were lying here and there.”

The yells of thé Indians had ceased, and not a sound
was heard in the timber, through which floated the smoke
of the firearms forming into a cloud.

“What does it mean?” and the woman seemed to be
growing nervous now as she asked the question.

The silence continued, and the Stispense ae more
intense.

Then a form appeared, almost like an niente, from
the timber, and advanced toward the pile of rocks. It
was an Indian, but on foot, and his hands were raised
above his head, the palms turned toward the two on
_the_ rocks,

“Tt is the chief! i”

~The woman’s quick eyes had recognized the Indian _

first, and she almost shrieked the words...

“Ves; your act that day. at the stage station has
saved. us.’

And the man sprang down the rocks and walled to-

ward Red Tomahawk, followed by the woman.
__.The chief looked haggard and wearied, and his feath-
‘ers, were limp, his buckskin soiled and ragged; but his
eyes -_gleamed brightly as he held: forth his hand; and
said :

ae Red Tomahawk come right time, and is glad.
My braves did not know paleface “chief and squaw were
friends of Red Tomahawk.”

Both greeted him warmly, and then they learned that
he had been making his way back to his people on

foot, when, while hiding in a thicket, he had seen them
ride by with their guide.

The latter was his foe, so the chief did not make his
presence known, though he was sick, hungry, and nearly
exhausted,

His trail led along the way they had gone for a while,
and as he saw where a number of hoof strokes had fol-
lowed on after his white friends.

_.. He knew. that they were his warriors, and so hurried
on after them.

Wretched as he was, he held on his way, and, hearing |
the firing, ran with all his speed until he got. near

enough to make his well-known, thrilling war cry heard.

His braves knew ‘it but too ‘well. It told them that
their great chief was not dead, as they believed.

It recalled them from the charge, though on the very
verge OL Sticcessi. |).

Now he would call‘his red warriors and let them know
that the paleface chief and the beautiful white paw
‘were his friends. -

_ Such was the story of Red Tomahawk.

He called his warriors about him, told them what the
two palefaces had done for him, and pointed to their
own dead and wounded as a ‘proof that. ae two were
brave foes. .

. Brimstone.

BILL STORIES. / | 7

Just then a scout came up with the report that a party
of cavalry were coming, and that, far in advance, fol-
lowing the Sioux trail, rode the great scout, Buffalo Bill.

“The Red Tomahawk and his braves will go} with their
dead.and wounded, and my paleface friends will wait
here for their people, ” announced the chief.

A few hurried words passed between the man and
the woman, and then the former said quickly:

“No; we will not go with°our people, but with the
Red Tomahawk, and live among his people. © Will he let
us go with him and be as his children?”

That Red Tomahawk was pleased he did not ey
He hastily said a few words to his braves-in their own

tongue, and they, too, seemed glad to have the whites ac-

company them.

““The chief has spoken well, bad my people iit” be
his | people, and the peepic of the pe paletace
squaw.’

“Come, for the great scout, Buffalo Bill, is a danger-

ous foe, and he is not far away.

The horses and pack animals were led out, Red Tom-
ahawk mounted the horse of the dead guide, and the
two mysterious whites fled from their own people, to
seek a home ue the redskins. —

_ CHAPTER VIL.
VISITS TO SNOW FACE,
Some weeks later a friendly Indian rode into ‘Fort

Fairview, where Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill were .em-

ployed as scouts. This Indian went at once to the two
great scouts and told them that Red Tomahawk, the
great médicine chief, had placed in power in the nearest

_Stoux village, as a war chief, a paleface who was known
as Chief Snow Face.

‘The two scouts had already heard of this renegade °
white chief, so the Indian’s story thus far was not new
to them. But when the Indian added that the renegade
chief had a white woman with him, who was his. wife
and who reigned in the tribe as a queen, the scouts at

once showed deep interest in the redskin’s story. They -

suspected that the white woman might be held as a
prisoner in the Sioux village, and, if SO, it would bea
chivalrous act to rescue her.

At this time trouble was being made by a gang of
bandits known as the Brimstone Band—the name being
derived from that of the leader of the outlaws, a Captain
One member of this band was a soldier who
had deserted from the army. At the time of deserting,
he held the rank of sergeant. Hence, when he joined

the Brimstone Band, he became awn as the Deserter

Sergeant.

This Deserter Sergeant ree a remarkably close re-
semblance to Buffalo Bill.

Moreover, the members of the Brimstone Band in
general, and the Deserter Sergeant in particular, were on
friendly terms with the Sioux.

Buffalo Bill learned that the Brimstone Band was very .
desirous of securing the aid of the Sioux in their raids
on wagon trains and settlements, and meant to send the
Deserter Sergeant to the Sioux village to see the rene-
gade chief, Snow Face, to ask for his codperation with
the Brimstone Band.
~ Buffalo Bill, accordingly, decided to hasten to the
Sioux village and get an audience with Snow Face, by
impersonating the Deserter Sergeant,

 
 

3 a THE BUFFALO

He succeeded in reaching the Sioux village ahead of
the Deserter Sergeant on the way, and, in, a duel, killed
the bandit. His task, therefore, became an easy one,
since he knew now that the Deserter Sergeant could not
put in an appearance at the Sioux village, and spoil Buf-
falo Bill’s own little comedy.

The only important result of the great scout’s inter-
view with Snow Face was that he learned that the white
woman, Snow Face’s wife, was not held captive, but that
she remained with the Sioux absolutely voluntarily. The

Indians and the chief, of course, knew nothing of the.

death of the real Deserter Sergeant.

Buffalo Bill returned to Fort Fairview.

Meantime, much had been heard of the Brimstone
Band’s depredations and of the help furnished by Snow
Face. Par

Buffalo Bill now ‘resolved upon making a second -visit
to Snow Face, again representing himself.as the De-
serter Sergeant, for not a word had reached Snow Face,
as Buffalo Bill learned through the friendly brave, of the
death of the genuine Deserter Sergeant. The scout
would pretend that. his visit was made on behalf of the
captain of the Brimstone Band to ask for the further
aid of Snow Face in an attack on Fort Fairview itself. —

His object in making this second visit to the Sioux
was to learn of their strength or weakness, and to dis-
cover the whereabouts of the secret hiding place of the

Brimstone Band. He meant to get Snow Face to betray

the location of the stronghold of; the Brimstone Band.
Then Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill, with a detachment
of soldiers from the fort, would attack the Brimstones
and wipe them. out.

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill made their plans, with
the aid of the commanding officer of the fort, General
Carr. The general was to be succeeded in commiand,
presently, by a Colonel Cassidy. Hence Colonel Cas-
sidy took part in the conference.

It was arranged that Buffalo Bill should. visit Snow
Face in the character of the Deserter Sergeant, while
Pawnee Bill would wait somewhere near the Sioux vil-
lage with a detachment of soldiers.

The result was that, the next morning, mounted upon a
fine horse and armed to the teeth, Buffalo Bill rode out
of the fort and took a trail leading to the mountains to
the north, and soon afterward Pawnee Bill, with a de-
tachment of boys in blue, left the fort and marched in
the same direction as that taken by Buffalo Bill.

No man knew the country better than Buffalo Bill, and,
avoiding all trails where he might meet a scouting party
of soldiers, redskins on a raid, or prowling bands of out-
laws, he made his way at a steady pace toward the land
of the Sioux.

The scout could not but recall his fosmer visit to Snow.

Face, the renegade.
He had gone there, as already stated, as the envoy of
Captain Brimstone, who held some secret claim upon the

white chief for a service rendered in the past, and felt

a right to call upon him.

What that claim was the scout did not know, but he
had discovered that Snow Face was willing to pay the
debt, whatever it might be, while, for/some reason, he
stood in horror of the outlaw coming to visit him.

He had seen a desire on the part of Snow Face to get
rid of him, Buffalo Bill, and send in his place am Indian
messenger back to Captain Brimstone, reporting the death
of his envoy by an accident.

BILL STORIES.

Buffalo Bill understood that this desire to kill him
was on account of a secret discovery he had made, to
the effect that Snow Face was not alone in his mountain
retreat among the Sioux, but had a white captive with
him in the person of a very beautiful woman, one who
seemed to be a very willing captive, however.

To save his life Buffalo Bill had pledged his word not
to betray the presence of the lovely woman in the Sioux
village; but this pledge, though pretending to accept it,
Snow Face had no faith in, and so had sent a chief and
warrior to waylay and kill him.

Suspecting treachery, the scout had so well prepared

against it that the next morning two dead Indians were
found on the trail, and a note addressed to Snow Face
told. him that he had simply turned the tables upon his
redskins. —

And, with all this, the scout was once more a mes-
senger from Captain Brimstone to Snow Face, the rene-
gade chief of the Sioux.

. CHAPTER VITl.
- THE REDSKIN SENTINELS.

In the recesses of a range of mountains, some three
days’ slow march from Fort Fairview, there dwelt a

_ formidable tribe of Sioux Indians.

They had given more trouble to the soldiers and set-
tlers along the border than all the other tribes together,

and their old chief, Red Tomahawk, was noted as a re-

lentless and merciless foe to the palefaces.

Then there came the news that Red Tomahawk had
become the mighty medicine man of his people, and had
given to a white man the full power of war chief.

Tf, any one doubted this, it soon became an acknowl-
edged fact, when a band of several hundred warriors
swept along the border settlements and mining camps,

and even flaunted their feather headdress in front of the

armed posts, and a white man was seen to be the chief of
the red marauders. :

He led his ‘red men well, handled them with the skill
of a trained soldier, and proved himself as cruel as the
greatest fiend in the band.

This was Snow Face, and he was not long in becoming
known and feared, and in several affairs with the sol-
diers he had worsted them. .

The stronghold of this white renegade was known to
be in the mountains, and impregnable, and yet, after a
repulse, led by a company from the fort, under Captain
Forrester, Snow Face had deserted his retreat and moved
his village to another point still farther in the moun-
tains.

Just why he had done so no one seemed to under-
stand, and there were not soldiers enough on the border
to attack him successfully in his stronghold; but move

he had, and he selected a retreat some threescore miles

farther into the mountains, and which could not, be sur-
pised by the best scouts of the plains =...

It was by narrow and rugged trails the stronghold was
reached, and the outpost farthest from the Indian vil-
lage was fully twenty miles from the quarters of Snow
Face, the renegade. a oo

This outpost of sentinels consisted of a dozen Indians,
one of whom was kept constantly on watch, his station
being a high perch of rocks on the mountainside.

He could see for miles out upon the plains, in every

direction except behind him, where the village lay, and

wn

 

 
wa,

 

 

 

Ph, BUBPAEO
he reached his place, of observation by climbing up the
steep side of the ridge.

In the vailey, several hundred feet below, were his
comrades, encamped in snug quarters made of brush
and saplings, and their yo were staked out not far
distant.

Each day at dawn a warrior sentinel would climb
to his lookout and remain on duty until nightfall, when
it would be no longer necessary, for no enemy, however
strong in force, would attempt to come over the “Bad
Lands” at dark, for the chances of going to certain
death were ten to one against him, so dangerous was the
approach.

If a foe was seen in the daytime, the lookout hailed
his comrades below, and if danger was feared, half a

dozen of them mounted in hot haste and started by as.

many different trails to the various villages back in the
mountains, while the remainder would stay to note the
movements and force of the coming enemy, and one
would go at each new discovery tothe chief and report.

Thus, before a foe could reach the mountains, the
warriors from half. a dozen different villages’ scattered
about the mountains could assemble upon their own se-
lected battleground to beat back an enemy.

To approach the villages by any other route would take
weeks, and need a very large force.

One day the sentinel on duty on the perch of rocks
hailed the valley below, and the dozen redskins there were
at once on the atert.

White men could never have borne the days and ee
of utter idleness that those red men so patiently put up
with; but, then, the nature of the red man is one of the
most ‘uncomplaining and patient resignation to his lot, be
it what it may.

The hail of the lookout did not create an alarm, for
he only gave a signal that some one was in sight.

His second signal was to the effect that only one horse-
man was in sight, and soon after came word from the
sentinel on the focks that the one in sight was on his
way toward the mountains, was\ following a trail and
picking his way with care through the Bad Lands which
lay between the plains and the foothills, where the out-
post was located.

Then a call from the sentinel sent his comrades clam-

- bering up the steep ridge to his side.

They discerned the stranger hardly half a mile dis-
tant, alone, and knew that he was a paleface.

He was well mounted, and ever and anon raised his
fo to his eyes, came to a halt, and surveyed the foot-
hills before him.

Approaching nearer, he halted, and raiceat a lance

from its swing on his saddle, and it could be seen that

the head of the lance had a number of red and white

- streamers floating from it.

The redskins glanced at each other, and one said, in
his native tongue:

“Paleface brave with ine paper for chief.”

The lance with its red and white streamers had been~

a sign to the redskins that told them that the one they
beheld came not as an enemy, for he bore the colors,
as it were, of their white chief, Snow Face, and they had
his commands, after the first messenger ‘from Captain
Brimstone, to respect the bearer.

So, while the sentinel remained at his post, the others

descended to the cafion, and when the horseman rode into

BILL STORIES. | 9

it, he came face to face with the dozen redskin horsemen
awaiting his coming,

They sat upon their ponies, ranging across the cation,
and as silent as statues in bronze.

But the horseman did not hesitate an instant, and,
raising his tales over his head, rode straight toward them,
though a keen eye could see his rifle hung ready for use,
his revolvers were cocked in their holsters, and he was
ready to open, fire and wheel to the right-about like a
flash if it came to a fight between him and the dozen
braves he dared so fearlessly.

The horseman was Buffalo Bill, the pretended Deserter
Sergeant, acting as supposed messenger from Captain.
Brimstone to Snow Face,-the renegade chief of the

Sioux. \

CHAPTER IX,
A MYSTERIOUS PAIR. ie

Red Tomahawk, the mighty medicine man of the
Sioux, was a good ruler of his people, and not only was
he loved by all, but he was also greatly dreaded.

His word was law, and his will supreme.

But Red Tomahawk was growing old, and on his last
war trail he had nearly lost his life, as already related,
and, but for a brave rescue by a man and a woman, he
would have been hanged by a band of his deadly white
foes.

The secret ee Snow Face and his wife was:a strange
one, For a man of superb physique, a splendid speci-
men of manhood, courtly, brainy, reared in the upper
class of life, and a woman, young, beautiful, fascinating,
had gone with the Red Tomahawk to make theit home
among his~people.

They had gone to the wilds of the mountains, to herd,
as it were, with redskins, though the two would have been
ornaments in metropolitan society.

In the man the Red Tomahawk had found a srone
cally, one whom he could depend upon, brave as a lion, a
wondrous athlete, dead shot, and perfect rider, and his
wisdom was great.

He had told his people how the two palefaces had
saved the Sioux an everlasting disgrace by saving him,
their greatest chief, from being hanged like a dog, and
thus shutting him out from the happy hunting grounds
of his people forever, making him the min ruler of a
dozen tribes, like unto a squaw.

He told of the courage of the woman, and that oe
two had become as his children. |

Then he said that he was too old to take the frail
but would counsel his people, and that the Snow Face
would lead his warriors.

If there were braves who would have urged against
this, they were silenced by the first expedition the white
chief led them upon.

They saw that he was a general, handled his fotce to
perfection, hit his foes hard, and secured booty and
scalps for them.

And so, while the old Red Tomahawk took up his
abode as head chief, or mighty medicine man in the medi-
cine lodge, the Snow Face,-Cruel Eye, and Cruel Face,
as he was variously called, became the war chief of the
half dozen villages that comprised the tribe over which he
held sway.

‘In the new stronghold of the tribe, among the moun-
tains, Snow Face, made his home more comfortable than
ever.

 
 

10 THE BUFF ALO
_ He had a fine log cabin, ae it was buraictied strangely
well for a frontier home; but then many a settler’s com-
fortable cabin had contributed to its furnishing.

The cabin had four rooms in it, was situated under
an overhanging cliff clad with pines, which kept off the
cold north breezes.

Before its door swept a deep and swift- flowing stream,
and a piazza tan across the front from which a view up
and down the valley could be obtained.

Several of the villages were in sight from the piazza,
though they were miles apart, and the valley, and several
others formed the tribe of Sioux.

They were rich in cattle and plunder, and could turn
out over a thousand mounted warriors, while a large
home guard could be left to defend their villages.

Within an hour’s time from the giving of an alarm,
the villages could throw their fighting force at any point
of attack, and if beaten back, as nfany more of the old
men and boys could support them.

A glance at the two persons on the piazza of the
cabin, which the redskins would call the “Log Tepee”
of their war chief, revealed a man and woman. The
woman, backed by the man, was the one who saved Red
Tomahawk from being hanged by the miners who had
him prisoner,

Some strange motive had pele eee two to come to
the Western wilds, and a stranger motive still had made
them cast their lot with the redskins, become renegades,
and war against their own people.

And these two were upon the piazza of their home,
the man idly lolling in a hammock and smoking a pipe,
while he watched the smoke curl upward with seeming
interest, as though castle building.

The woman was dressed in buckskin, beaded, and
quilled, and her head was shaded by a sombrero that was
very becoming.

She carried a “quirt” in her hand, and wore gloves,
Indian-tanned, and was ready for a ride.

“You won't go for a gallop, chief?” she asked.

“No, Iam too lazy,” was the drawling response, and
with a wave of her hand she went down the steps, and
leaped upon the back of a horse with a mane and tail
that was very long and beautiful, for they were like
milk.

The animal set off at a gallop, plunged into the

stream, and went down the valley in a long canter that

caused the miles to drop rapidly behind him.

This was kept up until in entering a cafion the Coa
tiful rider drew rein suddenly, for before her and coming
toward her were five horsemen. .

Three men in advance, riding abreast, with a white
man in the center, and two more brought up the rear.

The other four were redskins.

CHAPTER X.
A STRANGE COMPACT.

The party approaching through the cafion drew rein as _

they approached the beautiful horsewoman, and the white
man, who appeared to be a prisoner, and yet was not
bound, said politely as he raised his oe hat, with its
dark plume, for the Deserter Sergeant had never re-
linquished his uniform, and the scout had impersonated
him in dress as well as character:

“We meet again, fair queen of the Sioux.”

“Ah! you are he who visited us before, as a mes-

BILL STORIES. }
senger ne a pane of the Brimstone Brotherhood?” :
replied the woman.

“Ves. 99

Vou are the Deserter See

“30 men call me.’

“Tt was a disastrous affair when Chief Snow fc
went last to support the Brimstones ?”’

She referred to the fact that Buffalo Bill and a party
from the fort had, some time before, attacked the Brim-
stones and killed many of the outlaws and their Indian
allies.

“Yes, unfortunate for the Brotherhood Sad the Sioux.”

_ “Some one was traitor, I suppose?”

“Or Buffalo Bill was on the trail and thwarted the
plans of the Brotherhood and their allies.” :

‘Whatever was the cause, the result was disastrous, and
we came away here to seek a home.”

“T have come here to again see your chief.”

(itis dangerous,’

“OW hy ‘SO! p?? Ei

“You have not surely for gotten your visit to one other
stronghold ?”

“Oh, no, nor his treachery.”

“Ha | you dare say this to me?” and the woman’s
face flushed and her eyes flashed with anger.

“Will you give me another word, then, for his act
in seeking to “have me killed on my way back to my
chief?’ was the cool query.

“Come, we must not quarrel, for you have come . here
on a mission,’

UN es.©

“And Edmund Allyn?”

“T beg pardon.” :

“I mean your captain, Brimstone—what of him?”
the woman spoke in an embarrassed way.

“Ah! yes; he escaped, as you see I did, and he is once
more at the head of the Brotherhood, so seeks aid of
your

The scout ee and looked her full in the face, as
though waiting for her to fill out the sentence.

She did it with most perfect coolness:

“My husband, you would say, Douglass Dean.”

Her face flushed and then paled, for: she had uttered
a name she had not intended to speak.

But a glance at the face of the pretended Deserter
Sergeant showed that he had not heard her, or, at least,
showed ho sign of having done so.

But she was mistaken, for he repeated the name men-
tally over and over again until it was indelibly stamped
in his mind.

But he said quietly:

“Yes, I came to see your husband, Chief Snow Face,

te

and

 

in spite of his bad treatment of me when last we met.

is he here?”

“At his quarters, yes.’

“Ate they far away?”

“Some miles; but how did you reach here?”

el raaled,”

“And you found my young braves on the eek ” i

“Oh, yes, they saw me before I did them, and one of
them recognized me from having seen me on my last
visit to the chief, while my lance with its. cclors, you:

- know, proved a passport, and they were on their nea to

Snow Face with me when you met us.’ ae
“I will conduct you to him,” and turning to the fet

 
 

THE BUFFALO

‘skins ac gave them an order to retrace their way, which

a, promptly did. S
. Then shé said: |
“Now, Sir oe I will be your escort.”
He rode to her side, and the two went on their way

along the trail, neither speaking for some time, when

the woman said:

“You area oe man, sergeant.”

“Thank you; but why do you say so?” carelessly.

“Because you a second time enter the lions’ den, after
an experience that would deter most men from doing so
again.’

“What danger have I to fear this time?”

“My husband:is a man who hates to be thwarted, and’
he failed to have you put out of the way once.’

“So may try again?”

“T did not say so; but if he does, take my word for
it no harm shalt befall you, that is, if you will agree to
certain terms I wish to make with you.’

— “Well, madam?’ ©

“T do not wish Captain Brimstone—whose real ‘name
I have already mentioned—Edmund Allyn—to meet
Chief Snow Face.”

“With interests in common and the bond of mutual
protection, I cannot see how it can be avoided.”

“Well, Ido not wish: him to come here.’

“You mean Captain Brimstone must not come here?”

UYies®

“T believe I can arrange that for you.”

“Do so, and no harm shall befail you here, sae I
arh sure that Chief Snow Face means you harm!"

Ah Ee

“He will never let you go from here, though he may
not kill you. He will hold you asa prisoner, for he will
not. trust you not to tell your caprain of my presence
Mere.

“T did not tell him so.”

“I believe you; but he will take no second risk.”

“How will he account to my captain?”

“By telling him that you met your death by accident,
and sending one of his Indian warriors to your chief
with his acceptance of his wishes.”

21 sees but 4 will be held as a prisoner ?y~.

“Yes, but I will release you, ‘if not immediately, as
soon as I can, and you can escape thus, as I will show
you the way; but remember, you are not to es of
me under any circumstances.”

“T understand.”

“Then come on with me to the chief's quarters.”

They rode on together for a while in silence, and then

the scout asked: 8

“May I ask yowa question?”
“Certainly.”
- “Why is it that. you, a brilliant, beautiful, splendid

woman, can be content to dwell here among redskins,

the wife of a renegade white man, and be, too, one who

_ appears like a man among men, who could win honor i in

the world?” ©

“The question is a strange one, coming as it does
from you, sergeant, who, a superb specimen of manhood
yourself, and one who could have won his way to rank
and fame, was willing to become a murderer, a deserter,

-and trail robber.”

She’ spoke with a scorn in her voice that could not be
disguised, and the scout flinched, for in asking the ques-

once.

BILL STORIES. pg oar

tion he had momentarily, forgotten that he was not the
villain he represented himself to be.

“With a man it is different,’ he said,
barrassed way.

“No, it is not different, for a» woman has followed
where ‘love led. her, and my idol is not shattered.
“He was driven, though innocent, to hide from the
gallows, and it made his heart turn to gall, made him

in an em-

“hate his own race.

“T followed him, and though pitying, I could not cease
to love, and his crimes have not hardened me toward him.

. My world is with him, in his love, and so I am content

to live and die. I know how grievous are his sins and
mine in clinging to him; but still, so let it be. You are
answered, sergeant.”

“And I thank you for your confidence, madam, and I
pity you for the noble love that has caused you to throw
your life away.”

“Ah! the Deserter Sergeant can turn preacher at will!”

He saw the sneer in the tones, and he at once decided
to remain silent, and nothing more was said until they
came in sight of the.cabin of Snow Face.

The renegade still lounged in the hammock, but at
sight of his wife and her’escort, sprang to his feet, and
his eyes blazed with anger as the pretended Deserter Ser-
geant dismounted before the cabin and saluted him.

CHAPTER XI.
THE RENEGADE CHIEF.

When the scout rode up, escorted by the beautiful wife
of the renegade chief, Snow Face, the latter arose to his
feet, and his look and manner indicated that he was in
no pleasant humor at the coming of the messenger.

Before the woman could say anything, he asked’sternly :

“Well, sir, what brings you here again?”

“My. orders from my captain, to see you, Chief Snow
Face,” was the unruffled response of the pretended De-
serter Sergeant.

“T met the—the gentleman.this side of the outpost, chief,
with four braves, so sent them back and came on with him
myself,” remarked the woman, as she sprang to the
ground and advanced with Buffalo Bill to the piazza.

“You have but taken your life in your own hands by
coming here,” said Snow Face angrily.

The scout stepped upon the piazza, and, facing the
irate renegade, said:

“Chief Snow Face, let us understand each other at
You are a renegade, a fugitive from the law for
crimes done, and a price is upon your head for your acts
here. In truth, you are a‘hunted man, and only the
strength of your ‘position here and your many braves
prevent your being driven to bay and captured. I ama
fugitive, also, a hunted man, and I have no braves to
protect me, but a fellow feeling should make us friends,
not foes.’ My captain, was forced to fly for his life, and
more than two-thirds of his band were killed, or cap-
tured and hanged; but he escaped, and is once more upon
the gold trail, and sent me to tell you so, to ask you
to once more become his ally and support him when he
is driven into-your country. He will share most liberally
with you, and as he has but half a dozen men, in fact,
not that many yet, he wishes to get you to let him have
a dozen of your picked warriors. He will pay them well
for their services, and through them send booty to their
people, while you will, of course, share differently. Now,

 
 

or THE BUFFALO

sir, you know why I am here a second time—why I have
taken my life in my hands to come to see you.”

The scout spoke in a manly way, his voice clear and
_ fearless, and the renegade listened to him with a grim
smile the while that boded no good.

The woman had thrown herself into a chair and looked
calmly on, as though the affair held little, if any, interest
for her.

When the supposed Deserter Sergeant had finished
speaking, the chief said sternly:

“You made a pledge when you were here before?”

“Not to betray the presence in your village of this
lady ?”

“Yes; did you keep it?”

“Faithfully.”

“Then you gave no hint to Captain Brimstone that a
white lady was here?’

“T did not.”

“Can I believe you?”

“I do not know, and do not care; byt it seems to me
if Captain Brimstone held interest in the lady’ s presence
here-he would hardly wish you as his ally.”

“Perhaps not; but when you left here before you killed
two of my best men, a chief and a brave.”

“Oh, yes; I killed two of your redskins, whom you
sent to lie in ambush for me.’

“T am interested in knowing how you got the best of
those two men.”

The scout laughed, and replied:

“T suspected you of treachery, so put a dummy in my

saddle—grass stuffed into my coat, with my hat and boots.

on, and they, killed it, and when they sought to take its
scalp, why, I simply killed them!

“You are a remarkable man, Buffalo Bill.”

“Buffalo Bill! why do you call me by that name?”
And not a shadow crossed the scout’s face.

“Because you are playing a part, and | believe you are
Buffalo Bill, who, having captured or killed the Deserter
Sergeant, are impersonating him to lead both Captain
Brimstone and myself into a trap.”

The scout laughed, and his face was so utterly devoid
of emotion that the-renegade felt that his sudden accusa-
tion had not been successful, for he half suspected that
it was as he had said.

“The best way for you to find out is to send a brave
to Captain Brimstone to find out just where Buffalo Bill
is. If he can be found, then I cannot be he.”

“True; but Buffalo Bill certainly broke up the Brim-
stone Brotherhood before, and got me and my braves
into trouble; and [ suspected then that he had been playing
the Deserter Sergeant:

“No. I am myself, no one else, and I am careful to
give Scout Cody a wide berth; but what about my mis-
sion to you?”

“Tl send a warrior to ce Brimstone, telling him
I will agree to his terms on condition that he never comes
to my village, and my letter shall state also that my braves
recognized you as Buffalo Bill and demanded your life,
and, as I believed you really to be the scout, playing a
game of treachery to both of us, I gave you over to my
ae men to torture you to death.”

“And do you mean to do an act so cruel?’
the scout sternly. :

“Ot course [ do; for what care | for your lite any
more than for that of a snarling coyote?’ was the sneer-
ing response of Snow Face, the renegade chief.

demanded.

BILL STORIES.
CHAPTER XI. i

A FAIR PLEADER. ,
That Snow Face, the renegade chief, meant: to do just
as he threatened, there was no doubt, Oy
Having stiffered in the past, he had become merciless,
and rather enjoyed the sufferings of others.
That he did intend to carry out his vile threat the

“scout did not doubt; but even under the certainty that he

was fully capable of it, he did not flinch, and quietly re-"
marked:

“You are master here, you have the power, and you may
use it and take my life.”

+ Had not Buffalo Bill had the pledge of the beautiful
woman to save him, had he not caught a quick look in-
tended to give him hope, Snow Face would never have
uttered another word, for in his'sleeve the scout had a
revolver, and, dropping it into his hand, he would have
shot the renegade dead, sprung upon his horse, and taken
his chances with the sentinels-in the cafion, for he knew
pursuit of him would not follow for some half hour, at
least a pursuit that he would have much reason to dread,

and he might pass the outpost in safety without sus-
picion.

Once beyond them his long-range repeating rifle would
keep the redskins at bay, and in his horse he had per-
fect confidence.

It would have been desperate odds to take, but then his
situation was a desperate one.

“Well, sir, I will summon my braves, and turn you
over to them as Buffalo Bill, and your fate will besa
fearful one,” said the renegade.

As he uttered the words, the woman arose, and step-
ping up to his side, laid her hand fitmly upon his arm.
“Douglass,” she said softly. “Douglass, listen to me.”
“Well?” he said sharply.
“This man has done you no wrong, and, like you, he
is under a brand that has turned the hand of every one
against him. Who can tell his motive for crime any

_ more than we can look into your heart and tell yours? He

came here as a messenger from the leader, he did-his
duty, took great risks, and, you remember, boldly defied
us when brotight to bay, and “showed that he possessed
magnificent courage. He killed those you sent to kill
him, just as you would have done, and you may be sure
that he kept his pledge and did not betray my presence
here, or Edmund Allyn would have been here, or would
have let you hear from him! He has dared come here
again, and it is only a suspicion on your part that he is
Buffalo Bill, Even that noted scout would not twice dare
play the game you say this man is playing, so go slow
in what you do. If you suspect ‘him, then make him your
prisoner; put him in the cavern with ene of your most
faithful warriors constantly on guard over him, There
is no escape for him from there, ironed as he will be to
the rocks, and you can see Captain Brimstone and learn
the truth. If he has betrayed his pledge not to tell of
my being here, if he is really Buffalo Bill, why, then you
will have him in your power here and can make him
suffer as you deem best. But not now; no, not now. .Do_
this for me, Douglass.”

And the beautiful pleader bed up into the cruel eyes
of the man with a look that at once seemed to win ae
over, for he replied:

Hy ery well; it will but be a postponement of his death,
I feel assured, Give me my bugle.”

 
 

 

THE. BUFFALO.

_ She handed him a silver bugle that hung near, and
he gave three long blasts upon it, evidently a signal.

Then he,turned to Buffalo. Bill, and remarked:

“Will you quietly give up your weapons and surrender
yourself prisoner, or will you resist and have me set my
red hounds upon you ?”’

“T will surrender, as I must ; but let me say to you
that you owe that lady your life, for, had you not yielded
to her kind pleading for me, I would have shot you dead
and made my escape. Seehere!” |.

And he dropped the revolver from his sleeve into his
hand.

The renegade’s face slightly changed: for he realized
how narrow had been his escape from death, and he
remarked significantly :

“It is not the first time, sir, that this lady has saved
my life. There come nly braves, so I shall place you
in irons and under guard as a prisoner, to be held until
I know the truth about you.’

The scout bowed, ae just then a tie and half a
dozen warriors rode up on their ponies, in answer to the
signal call of the renegade.

“Red Hawk, take this prisoner ‘to the cavern yonder,
iron him to the rocks in the inner prison, and select four
of your braves to guard him, one at a time, day and
night.”

The renegade spoke in the Sioux tongue, and the In-
dian addressed replied:

“The mighty Chief Snow Face has spoken, and the
Red Hawk will do as he is told.”

Stepping up to the scout, he grasped him by the arm,
with the manner of a man who expected resistance, and
led him to the rear of the cabin.

There, in the rocky cliff, was a cavern, and a dozen
feet from the entrance was a wall of logs, with openings
for air and light between.

A narrow door was cut in them, and beyond was a
large cavern in which lay a pile of buffalo robes, and
‘a chain with manacles had been made fast to a pile of
rocks, showing that the renegade chief had made a secure
prison for any unfortunate that might fall into his hands.

The scout was at once ironed' by Red Hawk, who
showed that he had been instructed in the work, and a
sentinel was placed outside of the cavern, so to escape
from such a prison and keeper seemed even to Buffalo
Bill an utter impossibility.

CHAPTER: X11,
A PLEDGE KEPT.

When Buffalo Bill found himself a prisoner, in irons, in
the cavern of Snow Face, the renegade, his brave heart
felt a sinking sensation far from pleasant.

Never in his adventurous life before had he ever seen
life look quite so dark, and it appeared as though there
could not be for him one shadow of a chance.

Then there came to him the pledge given him by the
mysterious and beautiful woman.

She had said that she would save him, and, ever ready
to look upon the bright side, his hopes at once arose and
he coolly settled himself, to abide the alternative.

The day passed away, with the scout as patiently abid-
ing his time as did the Indian sentinel outside of the
cabin door.

Yhen a squaw came in with his supper, and the scout

saw the hand of the White Sioux Queen in what had
been sent him.

BILE STORIES. 12

It was a tempting supper, just such as had been pre-
pared for her own table.

Later a bundle of good robes and a blanket were
brought by the squaw, so that he could make himself
comfortable for the night.

This proved that he was not forgotten, and at break-
fast the next morning he discovered a note which was
written in a beautiful feminine hand.

It read:

“With your supper will come a bottle of liquor. It |
will be drugged, so pour it into your-canteen, call your
redskin guard, and give him a drink, and he will fall
asleep. The key of your manacles will be in your corn-
cake; but relock them and let it appear that you slipped
them over your feet, which I noticed were very small. Goto
the tree near the house, and you will find your horse ready
for you, while your weapons are by the Indian sentinel.
Leave the key of your menacles on the rock where you
find your arms. Only your guards know you to be a .
prisoner, so you can pass the outpost. Go, and never
return, and never tell your captain of my presence here
with Snow Face, the renegade.”

The scout read this note over several times, and then
put it in his pocket.

He had already discovered that he could slip his man-
acles off over his small feet, so would not need the key.

When his supper came, he found the corncake, and in
it was the key, but he broke it open, yet did not disturb
the key.

He found the flask and poured the contents into, his
canteen, which he put to his lips and pretended to drink
as he caught the eyes of the Indian fixed upon him.

It was just sunset, and the light penetrated the cavern.

“Good!” he said, with gusto.

The redskin seemed to understand what good meant,

. and looked wistfully at the canteen.

Then the scout said, in Sioux:

“Soldier fire water—have some?”

The Indian was human, and redskin human, so he was
tempted and fell.

He drank the prisoner's liquor with as much gusto as
he would have scalped him.

He was also tempted to take another drink, and then
he felt and looked tired, and sank down to rest.

By the time it was dark the redskin was fast asleep,
and Buffalo Bill was free.

He had noted where his weapons lay and soon had them,
while he placed the piece of corncake, with the key in
it, upon the rock.

Then he glided out of the cavern and made his way
to the shed where the horses of the chief were kept.

He found his own animal, with his saddle and bridle,
and led him around to the creek crossing.

A bright light burned in the cabin, and the chief was
seen there at supper with his. wife, while the Indian
squaw was acting as a servant.

Across the creek went the scout, and he rode rapidly
along the trail to the outpost.

His approach was heard by the redskin sentinels, but
as he came from the village they expected no danger.

Recognizing him, they were on their feet in an instant,
and he coolly drew rein and hada chat with them, though
his heart was in his mouth for fear that any moment he
might be pursued.

 
 

14 THE BUFFALO

He told the redskins that the chief had treated him
splendidly, and he would not forget them when the Brim-
stone Brotherhood gathered in their plunder.

Then he left them and went on his way.

- Once in the Bad Lands and he felt safe, and while he
constantly listened for pursuit, he yet held no fear of re-
- capture, splendidly mounted as he was, and with his
repeating rifle to depend upon.

At length the foothills were left behind, the prairie was
reached, and the scout could hardly refrain from a shout
of triumph as he muttered:

“A free man once more, and that beautiful woman kept
her pledge. But, Snow Face, you and I will meet again.”

CHAPTER XV,
TOUT HB. RES ECU BR)

The sergeant in command of Pawnee Bill’s boys in blue
was very much delighted when returning from a hunt
after game to discover none other than the scout, and
with him Captain Fred Forrester.

For the captain, while reconnoitering not far from the
Sioux village, had met Buffalo Bill, who had succeeded
in getting safely past all the Indian outposts.

The sergeant had just brought down a deer with a
crack shot, when the scout hailed him, as he and Fred
Forrester were riding toward a secret cafion, the hiding
place of the boys in blue.

“Well, sir, I am glad to see you,” the sergeant cried.

He had thrown the deer across the back of his horse,
and ridden on with Cody and the captain, and soon after
they entered the cafion, where Pawnee Bill greeted them
with a war whoop that an Indian might have envied, and
the boys in blue cheered to the echo | at the return of the
scout. :

After a couple of hours in the retreat, the boys in
blue followed their leader, Buffalo Bill, upon one side
of whom rode Captain Forrester and upon the other Paw-
nee Bill.

Their spies had discovered that the Sioux, led by Snow
Face, were on the warpath, and the scouts meant to
trap the. Indians.

Captain Forrester had declined to take command,
though urged to do so by Buffalo Bill.

“No, Bill,” he had replied; “yours is the trap, and
you are to spring it, for you have worked hard for it,
and yours shall be the triumph.”

They had reached the top of a ridge now and had
dropped into single file, Cody going in the lead.

Suddenly he drew rein, and the line halted.

“See there!” he said, as he beckoned Fred Forrester
and Pawnee Bill to approach.

They beheld, far off in the valley, a large body of horse-
men, some threescore in number.

The three men leveled their glasses almost together, and
Fred Forrester exclaimed:

“Indians !”’ 7

“Yes, and a white man leads!” Pawnee Bill added.

“They are Sioux, following my trail, and the man in
the lead is Snow Face, the renegade,” Buffalo Bill re-
marked quietly, while Captain Forrester said quickly:

“We can head them off at Dead Man’s Pass and cap-
ture or kill the outfit.”

“We can,” was the quick response of the scout, and
the boys in blue were wheeled to the right-about, and rode
rapidly down the hill,

BILE STORES.

=,

Along the valley at the base of the ridge they went at
a full run, and after keeping their horses at a killing

_speed for half an hour, they reached Dead Man’s Pass.

They. had little time to form in three squads, one, under
Pawnee Bill, to open fire in the front; the second, under
Buffalo Bill, to dash into the cafion in the rear and cut
off, retreat, and the third, commanded by Captain For-
rester, to charge in’ the front and head them off.

After delivering his. fire, Pawnee Bill was to come up
with his men to aid the other troopers.

Hardly had they gained De when the redskins en-
tered the pass.

They were not suspecting an ety for they were on
the trail of Buffalo Bill.

Snow Face rode in the lead, his face stern, for he had
taken the trail of the scout the moment he had discovered
his escape, after delivering the Indian sentinel up to the
squaws and children to torture to death, as unworthy of
being a brave to be trusted with the care ofa prisoner.

He had followed the trail untiringly, and was deter-
mined to see Captain Brimstone while near his retreat and
know the full truth about his messenger.

“SO, unsuspecting a trap, Snow Face and his threescore
warriors rode into it, tired by their long, hard ride, and
their ponies moving with heads hung low.

Suddenly, from the cliffs on either side came a wither-
ing fire from carbines and revolvers, and a dozen redskins
and horses went down.

Another volley was equally as terrible, and; as the
Sioux turned to fly, Buffalo Bill and his men were upon
them!

The reds were panic-stricken and sought flight beyond,
when Captain Forrester, with his detachment, cut his way
into their midst.

The boys in blue were outnumbered almost three to
one, at the commencement of the fight, but the redskin

_ranks were quickly thinned, and then it became a merci-

less massacre.

A few desperate braves broke ‘pouch the lines and got
away, but the rest\were slain, and their chief, wounded,
was captured by Buffalo Bill in person.

The chief was not seriously hurt, however, and hissed
forth: é

“You are Buffalo Bill: oy?

“Yes, late the Deserter Sergeant and your guest.”

“And that man?”

“T killed him some time ago, so played his part to
win, and my boys in blue have won the game. But
come; you must go with us, as Pawnee Bill will soon
dress your wounds, which are not fatal, I guess.”

“Where would you take me?” .

“To meet your friend Edmund Allyn,”

“Ha! you betrayed my secret?”

“No, but I wish you two gentlemen to meet.”

Pawnee Bill, having dressed the wounds of the rene-
gade while the soldiers were burying three soldiers killed .
and the dead Indians, and looking after their wounded,
the party set off for Eagle Cafion.

“Is there no danger of discovery, Cody?” asked Cap-
tain Forrester.

“Oh, that will make no difference, for Eagle Cafion has
an entrance, but no exit, though they think it has.”

It was an-hour before sunset when Buffalo Bill rode
alone into the cafion. i

Captain Brimstone saw him and hastened to meet

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

THE. BUFFALO

\him. The outlaw captain supposed, of course, that he
was talking to the real Deserter Sergeant, whom he had
sent to Snow Face as a messenger to ask the Indian’s aid.

“Welcome back, sergeant, for I am about to send a
messenger to Fort Fairview, and wish your advice. You
saw Snow Face?’

“Yes, sir, and he accompanied me to see lot with a
dozen of his braves.”

The outlaw’s face whitened, while he asked aervously’ :

“Where is he?”

“T left him and his braves at the entrance to the cajion,
while i came on alone. I will give the signal agreed
upon,”

AS he Uno Cody gave a long, shrill whistle, and
soon after a white horseman was seen coming up the
cafion, and about him were a dozen redskins mounted
upon their ponies, and in all the glory of their war paint.

CHAPTER XV.
STRANGELY MET,

There were in the cafion Mie Captain Brimstone seven
men.

The men wore their arms and gathered about the
Deserter Sergeant, as they still believed Buffalo Bill to
be, with seeming interest. Their horses were staked out
up the cafion in full sight, and the fires had been lighted
to cook their evening meal

With strange feelings in his heart Captain Brimstone,
who was Edmund Allyn, gazed upon his old-time rival
as he approached. He recalled his love for Irma Enders,
and her sad end after promising to become his wife if he
would aid Douglass Dean, the man she loved, to escape
from the gallows.

He had done so, but he had lost his bride.

And Douglass Dean’s face, pale from his wounds, had
become livid as he saw his old rival.

He had been forced by Buffalo Bill to ride forward
._ as though at the head of his braves; but the braves
were boys in blue rigged out in Indian costumes taken
from the dead, and painted to carry out the cheat.

On they came, until the two men, Douglass Dean and
Edmund Allyn, were near to each other.

Then the outlaw saw that the renegade chief was in
irons, and, as he discovered it, Buffalo Bill’s revolver
was thrust into his face, and the words came sharp and
Sesion

“Edmund Allyn, you are my prisoner!
Bill!’

With a cheer the dozen painted soldiers dashed upon
the outlaws at the same time, while, up the cafion, at full
speed, came Pawnee Bill and Fred Forrester at the head
of the remainder of the boys in blue.

Allyn was quick to act. He drew his revolver and
fired upon the scout, wounding him slightly; but it
gained for him his death wound from Buffalo Bill’s reply-
meg revolver, and he sank in his tracks, while his men
were quickly shot down or captured. Pawnee Bill bring-
ing down the traitor soldier at long range as he started
in flight.

.'We meet again, Edmund Allyn,” and Douglass Dean,
the renegade, slipped from his horse, and, with his wrists
manacled, stood looking down upon his ally.

“Yes, and you are to see me die.”

“So it seems, and I am to follow you, so I a not
tind telling you now that I deceived you.’

lam Buffalo

‘BILL STORIES.

i)
“Deceived mer’
“Yes, for you aided me to escape from the gallows,

and was to marry Irma Enders; but we arranged it
so that she was to run away with me, which she did, and

a flooding stream helped the belief ‘that she was dead.
Irma is now the queen of the Sioux, Edmund Allyn.”

“Had I the strength, Douglass Dean, I would kill you

~ where you stand; but you see that I am dying. : Still I

have my revenge, for you were honored and respected
once, and I ruined you, for it was I who killed old Massey
and robbed him, writing the words that incriminated
you, for I told him I was Douglass Dean.”

He gasped for breath, and, a moment afterward, Ed-
mund Allyn was dead. >

A silence fell upon all, broken at last by the command
of Buffalo Bill:

“Sergeant, detail a squad to hang that man, Snow
Face, the renegade.”

yes, Sit hk

“One moment, Cody. I expect death, deserve it; but
I beg you to let me be shot. I was sentenced to die upon
the gallows once, when innocent, and you heard that.man
there, now dead, say that he was guilty, but put the
crime upon me. That act broke my heart, my life; it
embittered me and made me what I am, so have mercy
and let me be shot to death.”

“Let it be as he asks, Cody,” interposed Pawnee Bill,
to whom the scout turned.

“So it shall be!”? he answered.

“T thank you both, and now would ask for paper and
pencil to write a line to my wife. Will you see that she
gets it, Buffalo Bill?”

CL Wal Sir

The letter was written in a firm hand, folded up, and
placed in a blank envelope which Pawnee Bill had in
his. pocket.

“Now I am ready to die, sir,”
his executioners with a smile.

He took his position, the irons were knocked off of
his wrists, and Buffalo Bill gave the order to fire.

The eight carbines flashed together, and the renegade
chief had ended his lawless career.

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill, the next day, stole into
the Sioux village, themselves disguised as braves, and —
gave the beautiful woman the letter from her dead hus-
band. They induced her then to disguise kerself as a
squaw, for the purpose of getting safely away from the
Indians. Thus they rescued her and escorted her to the
nearest station of the Overland Trail, where she took the
stage for the railway.

“I shall never forget you two brave men,” she said, at
parting. “But I shall never forgive you, Buffalo Bill, nor
you, Pawnee Bill, for making me a widow.”

and the renegade faced

’

THE END,

Next week’s issue will contain an unusual tale of border
life, entitled “Buffalo Bill and the Gambler; or, Pawnee
Bill’s Wonderful Discovery.” A myster ious gambler in
velvet, spotless linen, and diamonds appears in a mining
camp. Buffalo Bill has his eye on him. A new captain
of the Brimstone band looms up and recognizes the out-
laws. Pawnee Bill gets on their trail. A large sum of
money, in gold, vanishes, and a young army officer’s name
is under a cloud. The story is filled with surprising aud
novel incidents and situations, It is Number 556, out

- January 6.

 
 

16 oe THE BUFFALO

VLADIMIR CARPIO.

By VICTOR MAPES.
A TWO-PART STORY—PART II.
SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS.

In a compartment of a railway carriage, the narrator of the
story asks a fellow traveler how far it is to the Italian frontier.
The other replies that it is the second stop. The stranger, who
appears to be an Italian, speaks of passports and says he never
saw one that was American. The narrator displays his, and the
Italian appears to be especially interested in-the American seal,
and then returns the document. Several minutes pass, then the
Italian gets out at the next stop. At the frontier, the American’s
arrest follows the inspection of his passport, and he is thrown
into prison. Taken before a magistrate, he is sharply interro-
gated. The magistrate does not believe that he is unable to speak
Italian. Later the magistrate examines him privately. The
American then learns that the passport he showed at the frontier
bears the name of Nicole Mocta, an anarchist. He is returned
to prison, where, the next morning,-he is familiarly addressed by
a man who speaks peculiarly musical English.

CHAPTER TE,
A STRANGE VISITOR.

I looked up with a thrill. It seemed half like a dream.
Standing there outside the cell, with the light from the
window upon him, was a young man—a young man such
as I had never seen. If I said he looked like a prince it
might be thought I was still dreaming.

He was dressed in a white yachting suit of extreme
elegance and simplicity, while his whole appearance had
something about it which left no doubt’as to his station.
He was an aristocrat of the highest order—a gentleman
to the manner born. He held one arm gracefully extended,
with hat in hand, by way of salutation, and looked in on
me, smiling, through the bars.

His face was smooth-shaven and very handsome, with a
strangeness about it that impressed me, even in that rapid
moment, and made me wonder.

All this came on me in a flash as I hited my head from
my hands at the sound of his voice. For a moment I could
hardly believe my eyes, and sat staring at him in amaze-
ment. The apparition was so sudden, so extraordinary, so
incomprehensible.

“How are your” he said. “Won’t you say good morn-
ing?”

I rose up, and moved toward him, gazing blankly.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he said, still smiling.
Then, in a lower voice, quite casually, he added, under
his breath:

“Don’t stare—shake hands, and pretend to know me.”

A. great thrill ran through me as I heard these words.
I felt instinctively that he was a friend, and there, in
some unaccountable.way, to help me. Making an effort
to disguise my feelings, I acted on his suggestion, and did
as he bade me. I held out my hand, he extended his
through the bars, and we greeted each other like friends.
. Then, for the first time, I became conscious of the mag-
istrate and the jailer, who stood a few paces off, and were
watching us curiously.

“It’s all right,” my unknown friend declared assur-
ingly. “I have heard all about your arrest. ‘ They took
you for an anarchist!’ And he broke out in a laugh.
“I frightened you a little, no doubt.”

I did not dare to ask him who he was or why he had
come to me. The magistrate was within hearing, and
we were supposed to be friends. I felt the need of say-

BILL STORIES.

ing something, however, and jumped at the first idea in
my head. aS oe
“They have photographed me like a criminal,” I said,

“and kept me in this cell without giving me the least op-

portunity of clearing myself.” :

“The photographs have not yet been sent out,’ he an-_

swered quietly. ““You have made too many statements
already, but that cannot be undone. Don’t say anything
More.”

“Ts there any chance of their releasing me?” I queried,
still at loss to understand.

» We shall see.’

So saying, he turned to the magistrate, and moving
back a few steps, began talking Italian to him, in a
low. voice.

I had had time now to observe his face, and I could
understand why it produced so great an impression. It
presented a living anomaly—a strange contrast of race
and kind. sHis forehead was broad, thoughtful, intel-
lectual-looking; his eyes, large, calm, and clear, and set

so far apart that they gave a benevolent, sympathetic

effect to his whole countenance.

His ‘hair was light brown—almost golden—and very
soft, while the general cast of his features suggested great
sensitiveness and refinement. All this might have be-
longed to an aristocrat of the North, but blended with it,
in curious incorhprehensible harmony, were a rich olive
skin, full, mobile lips, dark lashes, and finely prominent
brows that seémed imbued with the blood of a Venetian
gondolier.

He was rather slender, fairly tall, and his movements,
though easy and simple in the extreme, had that some-
thing about them—that unmistakable air—-which implies
authority.

Meanwhile, this young man and the magistrate had dis-
appeared from view. I was left alone in the cell as I
had been before; but, strange to say, not a vestige of my
previous gloom remained with me. Curiosity and amaze-
ment had supplanted all other feelings. Who was he?
What could I be to him? Why did he wish to act the
part of a friend? ;

It was beyond my power even to imagine an answer to
these questions, but they supplied me with a queer, new
interest in my situation. My principal fear, for the mo-
ment, was that the young man might go away as mysteri-
ously as he had come.

If I could only see him once more and find out some-
thing about his life and his motive in coming to me, I felt
I should be amply repaid for the vexation of my im-
prisonment. That was the. effect his visit had left
upon me.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I lost all no-
tion of time. Ten minutes may have elapsed, or it may
have been an hour. Then I heard footsteps approaching,
and the jailer appeared, accompanied by one of the prison
officials. They threw open the door of my cell, and the
official, with hat in hand, requested me, in French, to
follow him.

I stepped out, much amazed at the unusual mark of
courtesy.

“What is to be done with me2” I asked.

“Monsieur will learn that in a moment,” he replied, in
the most polite manner. -

I walked beside him along the row of cells and up the
stairs. There he turned to the left, and T followed him
through the corridor to a large antechamber that was sit-

os
THE BUFFALO

uated in the front of the building. He opened the door,
and begged me to pass in before him.

On entering, I found myself once more in the presence
of the magistrate. He was standing beside a table, and
grouped behind him were a number of officials who had
been instrumental in my arrest. I looked for the strange
young man ‘in white, but he was not there-

The magistrate made a motion with his hand signifying
that I was to approach.

“Monsieur,” said he, “it gives me great pleasure to in-
form you that I and my associates owe you an apology.
We regret that we have submitted you to the indignity
of an arrest. Our excuse is that we believed that we
were doing our duty. We are happy to lose no time in
restoring you to your liberty.”

My valise was on the table, together with my other be-
longings, which I was informed were restored to me ex-
actly as I had left them.

Being completely in the dark as to the cause of this
sudden change in the situation, I was sorely tempted to
ask for an explanation. But I remembered the advice of
my mysterious visitor, and held my tongue. I was in great
apprehension, moreover, lest I should be questioned with
regard to this supposed friend. I simply said a few
words, therefore, of a noncommittal character, thanking
the magistrate for the courteous nature of his apology.

I was told that a carriage awaited me at the door, and —

my valise was taken to it. The magistrate himself led

_ the way for me, and as I was about to step into the car-

riage he-held out his hand.

“If you ever get into trouble again,” said he; “don’t
hesitate to send me word. I shall always be happy to serve
a friend of Vladimir Carpio.”

We said good-by, and the carriage started off.

“Vladimir Carpio?” that, then, was his name. It was
a strange name, and I seemed to have heard it before.
But I could not remember where. No, I could not re-
member.

The carriage meanwhile was rolling along rapidly over
the smooth road. I had given no directions to the driver
when I stepped in—in fact, he had not waited for any. I
assumed, therefore, that I was being taken to the rail-
way station to resume my interrupted journey.

All at once, however, I noticed that we had come to a
crossing, and looking out the window, I saw the station
some distance off to the left. We had already passed it,
and the carriage kept on with unslackened speed.

I knocked om the window, and called to the driver.

‘Where are you going?” I asked, in French.

He shrugged his shoulders, and kept on. )

I called again, and pointed off at the station. He
grumbled something in Italian, gave a motion ahead with
his whip, and kept on.

In a minute more we came to a turn, and the blue
waters of the Mediterranean spread out before us in full
view. The road took us down almost to the water’s edge
and then skirted the embankment. The carriage finally
stopped at a sort of low quay.

As I opened the door and jumped out, a sailor in im-
maculate white linen approached and saluted, while an-
other sailor had already taken my valise from the driver.
The first of these said something in Italian, but~as I
could not understand, he turned toward the water and
motioned me to follow him.

At the edge of the quay was a pretty white yawl,
finished in hard wood and brass, with two more sailors,

BILL, STORIES: 17
A hundred yards or so from shore, lying gracefully at
anchor, was a white steam yacht of superb appearance.

In contrast with the gloom and monotony of prison
walls, this scene impressed me like a vision of fairyland.
Never had the sea looked so clear and beautiful, the
foliage so green, the air and the sunlight so delightfully
refreshing. And hére were a yawl, sailors, and a great
white yacht, apparently: waiting to receive me.

My feelings for the moment were like those of Christo-
pher Sly, the tinker, when he awoke from his drunken
sleep before the ale house to find himself on a satin

_bed, surrounded by bowing attendants.

I guessed at once to whom the yacht belonged ; but that
did not in any way diminish the wonder of my situation.
His name was Vladimir Carpio. That was all I knew.
Why had he come to me? and why was I being taken to
him?

Whatever might be in store for me, there was no help
for it. If they meant to take me to the Cannibal Islands
and have me made into soup, it was just as well to meet
my fate gracefully. They were five men against one; they
had orders, presumably, to put me on board the yacht,
and it would be folly for me to attempt resistance.

I got into the yawl, the sailors took their places, and
we put off at once. The yacht’s anchor was being weighed
as we approached, and a hiss of escaping steam left no
doubt that an immediate departure was in contemplation.
In a few minutes we came alongside, but as I looked up
and scanned the rail, a renewed feeling of apprehension
laid hold of me. A large blond-bearded man in the uni-
form of a yacht’s officer stood on the deck awaiting. us,
but there was no sign of my mysterious young friend.

If he had taken so much trouble to get me out of prison,
and if this was his yacht, why was he not there? I almost

regretted that I had not made a scene on-the quay.

As I clambered up to the rail, the officer leaned over
and assisted me. Then, when I was safely on deck, he
said something to me in Italian, I answered in French
that I did not speak Italian.

“No?” he said, in French, looking much surprised. “‘Is
it not Monsieur Nicole Mocca that I have the honor
of addressing?”

I looked at him, aghast.

“Nicole Moccad” I cried. “What do you mean?”

He stared at me blankly, and I stared at him. For a
moment we stood there like two. wooden men, transfixed
to the deck. At that instant an electric bell sounded, the
engines revolved, and the yacht began to move.

“Stop the boat!”? I cried. ‘You have made a mistake!
Stop the boat!”

“Do not be alarmed,” said he; “‘there is nothing to fear.
If there has been a mistake, it will be rectified. Mean-
while you are none the worse off for being here.”

There appeared to be truth in what he said. _ After all,
even if 1 was still to be a prisoner, the present surround-
ings were certainly less discouraging than an underground
celle

“Very well’ said I, “but would you mind telling me

whose boat this is, and where you are taking me?”

“T cannot tell you where we are bound. I do not know
myself. The owner and commander of this yacht is
Monsieur Vladimir Carpio.”

“Ts he on board ?”

“Not just at present; but you will have the pleasure of
seeing him before long.”’

“Who is Monsieur Vladimir Carpio?’ The question

 
   

   

+8 | | THE BUFFALO

came from my mouth almost in spite of myself. It was
blunt, no doubt, and indiscreet. The blond-bearded of-
ficer seemed much taken aback by it.

“Ah! he said, looking at me again rather strangely,
“do you mean that you have not met him?”

Tok have met him, but that is all. His name is very
peculiar.”

“There is no secret aout it, monsieur,’ he answered.
“Vladimir Carpio’s father was heir to a throne. His
mother was an Italian woman. Both are dead now. For
the rest, I need only say that Monsieur Vladimir is my
master, and there is not a-sailor on this boat who would
not gladly lay down his life for him. Whatever his mo-
tive may be in having you brought here, you will have no
cause to regret it.”

I recollected now why the sound of the name had struck
me as vaguely familiar. I had read in a French chronicle
some years before the story of this Italian woman, An-
toinette Carpio, at the time of her death. Her remarkable
beauty and her adventure with a prince of royal blood
had made her an historical personage. The name of the
prince had been suppressed, but the inference was, as I
remembered, that he was a Pole or a Russian.

_ The blond-bearded officer, having volunteered so much,
now offered to conduct me to my cabin, where my valise
had been taken. I followed him accordingly to a large
and luxurious room, where hot and cold water awaited
me. There he left me, and I lost no time in proceeding
to make myself presentable.

Chat rer dy,
OUT OF THE FOG.

I had not been in the cabin a great while when the
engines began slowing down, and soon stopped altogether.
I looked out of the porthole, but on that side there was
only blue water to be seen. In a few minutes the en-
gines began again, and we proceeded at full speed as be-
fore. | had now finished my ablutions, and being appar-
ently at liberty to do as I liked, I thought of making my
way once more to the deck. As I was about to do so,
a knock came at the door, and on opening it, 1 found my-
self in the presence of the mysterious young man, whom
I now knew to be Vladimir Carpio.

He looked at me curiously, his oe eyes twinkling
with amusement.

“How do you do again?” he said, in his peculiar, musical
English.

One thought was uppermost in my mind—whom did
he take me to be? No doubt he read the question in my
face for his next words answered it.

“You are Mr. Morrison, are you not?”

I looked at him with more amazement than ever.

“My name is Vladimir Carpio,” he continued. “I don’t
wonder that you are surprised. I must begin by offering
you an apology. I thought I was doing you a service.
Can you forgive me?”

He said this with the most charming grace imagin-
able, and held out his hand toward me. I had recovered
myself a little and was able to use my tongue,

“Indeed you did me a service,” | said, as I took the
proffered hand. “You got me out of that cell.”

You don’t know yet whether you owe me thanks or
not.”

“Tt is true I have no idea what you intend to do
with me.”

 

BILL STORIES.

  

He looked at me a moment, and his face broke into
a smile again.

-“T don’t know what I am going to do with you iy sell
That will depend on you, and you'can decide better when

I have explained to you how you happen to be where

you are. Meanwhile, here is something that belongs to
you.’

He held out, as he spoke, a large envelope. 1 took it and
opened it. It was my passport.

“That is yours, is it not?’ he sdid.

“Yes, I answered, looking at him strangely.

“You are surprised to find it in my possession. I don’t
wonder. If you don’t mind, I think it will be pleasanter
out on deck. Perhaps you would like to smoke a cigar?”

He took a box from the table and offered me a cigar,
I was really craving for a smoke to quiet my nerves.

“T have a bad heart,” he went on, “and the doctors
won't allow me to smoke. But I envy those who can.”

He waited for me to light the cigar, then he held back
the door, and followed me out on deck. We sat down
in comfortable chairs placed under an awning, with the
sparkling waters of the Mediterranean spread out before
us. Then he looked at me and paused, with his peculiar
meditative smile.

“Tt is all quite odd and amusing,” he said, “as you shall
see. I must begin by telling you that I met with an ac-
cident some years ago near Genoa, and an innkeeper, who
happened to be there, rendered me a service and behaved
very well. He had known my mother, and refused the
money I offered as a recompense. He ‘would take noth-
ing but a little present, by way of souvenir. I do not
like to be under_obligations to anybody. 1 suppose it is
one of my peculiarities. I have sought to avoid ties of
every kind. I would much have preferrdd to pay this inn-
keeper a very large sum, so as to feel that he no Jonesy
had any claim upon me.

“Vesterday morning this man came to me in a state
of great alarm and asked my assistance. His cousin,
Nicole Mocca, had been arrested. He explained to me
how his cousin had gone to Paris and had had the mis-
fortune to associate with some dangerous characters there;
how he had been suspected by the police of having a
hand in the recent anarchist plot, and how he was arrested
on his way back to Genoa.

“There is no need of going into details. It is enough
to say that he convinced me that Nicole Mocca was a
reckless and foolhardy theorist, who was in no way con-
nected with the bomb explosion. I resolved, if possible,
to pay off my debt by obtaining this cousin’s release. That
is how [ came to make your acquaintance.

“The magistrate who had you in charge has known me
for years; he is of low origin, and rather proud to call
me his friend. I went to him, therefore, this morning,
and he related to me all the details of your arrest, not
omitting what you had said to vindicate yourself. Your
story about being an American citizen, I must confess,
appeared to me very weak. Not only that, but it put a
serious barrier in the way of your.release. I could not
say that you were Nicole Mocca and obtain your release
on that ground. Your denials and fabrications, I thought,
would tend too strongly against you.

“The simplest way out of the difficulty was to accept
your story and take you for what you claimed to be. It
always amuses me to outwit the self-satisfied representa-
tives of the law. Under the circumstances, I must con-

 

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5 NG Rin ey A

4 : a THE BUFFALO
gratulate you on the way you received me. “You really
did very well.”

“But how did you find out I was not Nicole Mocca, and
how did you get my passport?’ I put in.

“You shall see. I was still talking to the magistrate

_@ after having seen you, when a letter was brought to me.

The magistrate had agreed to release you, and I intended
to take you with me on board the yacht, setting you down
somewhere near Genoa. ‘This letter, however, was from
Antonio Mocca. He had an important communication to
make, and urged me to go to him at once. He was
waiting for me ata certain spot on the coast which he
designated.

“IT left instructions to. ee you brought on board as
soon as the formality of your release had.been accom-
plished, and proceeded at once to find Antonio. Inas-
| much as I had taken the step, there was nothing to do
# but to get you out of the way as speedily as possible.
! i | So I gave orders for the yacht to start as soon as you
‘“@y reached her, naming the point where she was to pick

me up.
“When I found my innkeeper, be informed me that

in hiding. Then I learned that your story, which I had
| thought preposterous, was true. ~Nicole Mocca was the
| man who traveled with you on the train. He had not
™ known he was suspected of complicity with the anarchists
| until he read the newspapers in your presence. When
| you showed him your passport, he saw in it a means of
» getting across the frontier to a place of safety.

| “He succeeded in substituting his own in its stead.
® After leaving the train, he had himself driven to the fron-
i tier and crossed that night without suspicion. It was
) not until yesterday that Antonio heard from him. An-
tonio is a good-hearted fellow; he made Nicole give up
your passport, so that it might be restored to you. That
is how I came by it.”}.

He paused and looked at me thoughtfully, waiting for
_me to speak,
“What would have happened,’ I asked, “if you had not
come to my assistance?”
“Antonio would probably have sent your passport to
‘the magistrate. It would have proved your identity,
and you would have been released. You see, you have a
right to™resent my interference.”
“On the contrary,” I interposed, “I owe yott
“No,” he said, with quiet decision, ‘you owe me noth-
ng. It is I who owe you an apology for forcing you
_to take part in an unnecessary deception. As far as I am
»concerned, I have no scruples against deceiving people,
ut I have no right to make you an accomplice, whatever
my motives may be. You have your passport now to
rove who. you are, and my yacht is at your service. If
ou-wish to go back and disclaim our pretended friend-
hip, do not hesitate to say so.”

I looked at him in silence, finding no words to answer
his proposition.
“Tf you do not care to do that,” he added, “we are now
ound for Genoa, from there I go to Naples and Palermo.
f you enjoy salt air and sunshine, and can spare a few
ays, | should be delighted to have you go with me.’

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
    
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
  

99

 

have pleased me more than the trip he proposed, but a
feeling of delicacy prompted me to decline. He read my
thoughts, however, and forestalled me. ~

“Don’t say no,’

_ his cousin had crossed the frontier safely and was now.

I was traveling for pleasure, and no prospect could .

he put in, with a playful gesture of

BILL STORIES. 19

warning. “Tt j is always best to obey the law, unless special
good can be attained by disobeying it. And before the
law, remember, you and I are already friends.”

He stood up and held out his hand. :

ok 7K * “8 * * *

Such are the odd circumstances under which I met
Vladimir Carpio, cruised with him on the RUS a
and became his friend.

THE ‘END.

_—__—oo eo.

How Billy Pi Broke the Strike.

By FRANK N. STRATTON.

9

 

“Speaking of strikes,” said the conductor, glancing out
of the window, “reminds me that right there, in that bend
of the crick, a world’s record was made for breakin’ a
strike. Ever tell you about it?

“Tt-was when this branch of the line was bein’ built,
say ten years ago. The boss contractor sent me word to
turn over my gang to Murphy and come to headquarters.

““Baker, says he, ‘you can patter dago pretty “good,
and I want you to take’a couple of the men and a hand -
car and run down to the west end of the branch line. The
dagos down there has struck for higher wages. They’re
a fresh importation, just over, and that damned Bald
Pete has wandered down there and queered ‘em. We're
under bond to shove that branch through by the first
of August, and something’s got to be done quick. The
quickest way is to buy Bald Pete off. Here’s fifty dol-
lars; run down and see what can be done. Report to-
night.’

“You see, Bald Pete was an old dago who'd been fired
by the construction company, and had been makin’ it his
business to get even. Ugly devil, Pete was; his hide was
the color of scum on an old frog pond, and his eyes—once
I looked into the eyes of a live rattlesnake, not two feet
away, and Pete’s eyes was just the same. Once, when
he-was cookin’ for a party up in the Black Hills, he’d
had a lopsided argument with a band of Sioux, who lifted
his scalp and left him for dead,.and their bright smiles
still lingered in his dreams. That’s why we called him
Bald Pete, and that’s why he was prejudiced against In-
juns. Mighty proud of that head, though, Petey was;
kept it tied up in a red bandanna, with the knot hangin’
down over one ear. Always braggin’ to the other dagos
‘bout bein’ a terrific Injun' fighter, and provin’ it by that
head.

_ “Well, when I reached the dago camp first man I seen.
was Bald Pete sittin’ in front of the shack, smokin’ an
old black pipe. He was polite as you please, grinnin’ and
flashin’ his ragged, yellow teeth, but when I tried to talk
business there wasn’t but one ‘side to it, and that was
Pete’s side. He was onto his game, all right—knowed
that men was scarce and time precious—and the way
the yellow faker orated “bout the wrongs of his dear
countrymen was disgustin’, while the rest of the gang
crowded up, waggin’ their heads and flourishin’ their
dirty paws and SO in whenever Pete, stopped to get
his breath.

“T see I couldn’ t a anything with ‘em just then, so I
left my two men with the hand car, and took my Win-
chester, intendin’ to hunt for a couple of hours while the
dagos cooled off. There was game in these parts then. I
strolled to the top of the slope, and lookin’ across the

 
 

   

20 | THE BUFFALO

  

river | seen an antelope standin’, head up, watchin’ a
clump of trees on my side of the stream. It was_a long
shot, and when the Winchester cracked, that antelope
was gone quicker’n a boy after breakfast when the lawn
needs mowin’. At the same time what should walk out
of that clump of trees and stand starin’ up at me but an In-
jun. Couldn’t hardly believe my eyes for a minute; then
I seen it was old Billy—Billy Pi, I called him. His In-
jun name was too much for a white man’s tongue—
sounded like a bunch of sneezes and a cough—and mighty
proud Billy was of that name; said it meant ‘Eagle-that-
soars. I’d run across Billy and some of his relations
two years before, when I was on a fishin’ trip a hundred
miles up the river, and. they was as cowardly, dirty a
gang of Piutes as ever boiled a root or eat a lizard.

“Well, sir, I don’t know how the scheme struck me so
quick, but the minute I seen Billy Pi, I knowed the
dago strike was as good as broke. So I was mighty well
pleased to see the old sinner, and he appeared tickled to
see me. He come slouchin’ up the hill, carryin’ an old
percussion smooth bore that he shot pebbles out of when
he could get powder. I met him halfway down the hill,
for I didn’t want them dagos to catch sight of him.

“How! How!’ he says, lookin’ pompous, and stickin’
out a dirty paw. ‘Got any whisky?’

“T give him a swig from the cup of my flask, and he
swallowed it at one gulp.

“Any toback?’ the old beggar asks next.

“I handed him a stogie and a match, and it was amusin’
to see him squat down, shut his rheumy old eyes, and
puff like a stalled locomotive.

“*Where’s your people, Billy? I asks.

“Without openin’ his eyes he points up the river and
holds up one finger, meanin’ they was one mile upstream.

““How many? I asks.

“*Much people,’
three or four times.
much poor, much hungry.

“Hungry, eh! Isays. “You come with me. ;

“Tl. took him near the top of the hill, made him lay
down and peep over, and his eyes stuck out like a snail’s
horns when he seen them dagos down there cookin’ supper.
They had about a week’s provisions yet, that the company
had furnished, besides some dago delicacies of their own
importation, and when the smell of that garlic and maca-
rony and fried bacon floated up to Billy’s proboscis, I
thought the old chief had took St. Vitus’ dance.

“‘*Priends of mine,’ [ says, pointin’ to the camp, ‘want
to see Injun. Never see real Injun. I want to please
friends. Billy come this evenin’ and bring all his people.
Plenty grub, much whisky, heap toback.’

“You ought to have seen how quick Billy hooked onto
that proposition; the way he grunted you’d thought he
had the colic. . :

“All hide here,’ I says, makin’ signs, ‘till moon comes
up. Want to s’prise friends. Mustn’t come till I shoot.
Then all come quick. Run—yell—shoot Billy’s gun—big
show—s’prise friends—friends very glad.’

“‘Good!’ he says, poundin’ his chest, and swellin’ up.
‘Billy un’stand. Billy great chief! Come like hell! Heap
yell! Billy shoot gun! Big show! Huh!’
trailed up the river faster than I ever seen him move.

“T knowed no one would get hurt, even if the scheme
fizzled, for-there wasn’t a gun in the dago outht,

they should put up any kind of a front, them cowardly

 

BICE STORIES.

he says, throwin’ out all his fingers
‘Billy's. .brudder ‘there, too. All.

‘Theti fhe.

and 4t>

  

    

 

- Piutes would skedaddle back faster than ee come. me

I hurried back to the camp, lookin’ very solemn.

“What shoot at?’ asks Bald Pete, quite pleasant. »

‘Pete,’ says I, loud, for some of ‘the dagos could un-
derstand a little English, a Shot at an Injun—and missed
him.’

‘He humped his sHomiere’ ews them eyes at me, aoe
grinned—thought I was lyin’ to scare him away.

“ “The sefior is mistaken,’ he says, with a sneer. ‘Injuns
all gone many year.’
“‘Come with me and I'll prove it,’ says I, ‘Tl show

you the Injun’s tracks.’

“When Petey’s eyes lit on them prints of Billy’s old
moccasins he turned plumb green and jumped like he’d
stepped on a tack.’

“Santa Maria!’ he gasps, crossin’ himself.
sure |’

“ ‘They've broke away from the reservation again,’ |
says, doin’ my best to look scared. ‘Five hundred mile
ain’t nothing to them Sioux when they’re out for blood.
We'd better get a move on us.’

“Honest, I had to pity the yellow coward. His eyes
rolled as if they were loose, and his teeth chattered all the
way back to the camp. I was afraid he’d take a sneak if
he wasn’t watched, so I told the gang myself what we'd
seen. Some of ’em wanted to pull stakes right then, and
some, with an eye for their job, talked big about fightin’
it out ‘under the brave and valiant Pietro’s commander-
ship. I could see that ‘the brave and valiant Pietro’ was
prayin’ for a good excuse to flit, so I kept him to the front,
remindin’ the dagos of his skill and experience, and argu-

‘Injun

in’ that mebbe there was only one Injun, after all. I.

wanted ’em to stay—-wanted to see the fun, I kept the
arguments goin’, so as to give Billy plenty of time, till
the moon was well up, and then, while they was chatterin’
like a flock of scared parrots, | made a dash for the hand
car, where my men was, and turned the Winchester loose.

‘In less than a second it seemed to me that every Piute
that had ever lived was pourin’ over the top of that hill
and down the slope for the dago camp. Mebbe I was a

little excited, but Billy and his brother certainly were

prolific and hadn’t left none behind.

“*“They re comin’, I yelled, and they was—comin’ like
a comet fallin’ through space. Screechin’? A fleet of
steam tugs wouldn’t have been in it. Billy and his brother
led the procession, on the jump, with the bucks next, and
the Squaws and papooses tailin’ behind, and every beggar
of ‘em was wavin’ some kind of a weapon, from Billy’s
old smoothbore to a rusty fish knife. Halfway down the
slope Billy let off the old musket with a roar like a Fourth
of July anvil—tike to have knocked the old scoundrel over
—and when them pebbles come wailin’ through the air
that strike was broke. By that time the dagos had re-
covered their breath, which had left ’em when the irrup-
tion busted loose, and things begun to develop in that
camp.

“First move Bald Pete made was to try to jump over a
row of barrels—hadn’'t time to go ’round—and he didn’t
jump high enough. Must have fell twenty feet, and he was
runnin’ before he’d got up., It wasn’t a minute till the
prairie was dotted with dagos jumpin’ like jack rabbits.
Some of ’em headed for the hand car, and we shot her
up the grade and round the bend, and waited till the
racket died down; then we pumped back to the camp.

“The noble red man had full and undisputed possession,
and he wasn’t doin’ a thing to that grub—just pitchin’

  

  

 

  

  

 
 

 
  
   
 
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
 

 

  

  

  

 

 
THE BUFFALO

« in, like that was the last haif of the ninth, and the
™ score tied. Billy’s brother was experimentin’ with a big,
| blue onion, one of the kind that will eat holes in anything
but a dago, and his eyes was squirtin’ water like busted
fire plugs. Billy had got busy with a mess of macarony
© in one fist and a hunk of raw bacon in the other, and he
™ was sure a sight, with the grease drippin’ from his mouth
and runnin’ down his skinny paunch,
ik ‘Whoopee—whoop !' he yells at me, thumpin’ his ribs
with the bacon. ‘Skeezy-kee-mah-chuk’ —that’s as near
as I can say his Injun narme— ‘great chief! Tell friend
come back. Billy not hurt ’em.. Billy good Injun,’
“But my friends never came back—no, sir! not much!

| Next time I seen Bald Pete was about a year after, in.

New York—reckon he’d runvall the way—-and you couldn’t

‘a’ got him west of the Hudson then without killin’ him’

first.

_ “And that’s how Billy Pi broke the strike and made me
solid with the boss—put me in the way to get this job.

Here’s your station.. See you on the down trip, I s’pose.’

 

 

 

THE RIGHT TACKLE.
By Henry Harrison Lewis.

When Radcliffe ‘McCauley left his father’s house in
the officers’ row at Fort Ryan, he fairly bubbled over
with laughter.

“It’s the funniest Lohems out,” he chuckled to himself. :

“And what a story it will make to fell the boys back at
Yale. I can just hear the shouts. Ha, ha! fancy playing
such a trick on Will Harrison, “Right Tackle Will,’ as
we call him, the fellow who has licked his weight in
full backs on the scrub eleven. Hello! there’s Will now.

J mustn’t let him see me talking to Running Wolf, or

he'll get on.’

Dodging across. the corner ofthe pane grounds,
Radcliffe darted behind Company K’s quarters, and then,
almost doubling on his tracks, finally gained the shelter of
a thick forest, which threw its outguard of pines almost
against the edge of the government reservation.

The sharp, clear notes of a bugle, followed by the
rat-a-tat of several drums, came from the direction of
the post. Radcliffe glanced back, and saw through the
fringe of trees a number of soldiers clad in picturesque
khaki uniforms hurry from their quarters, and fall in
‘line in the open space fronting each company house.
A faint murmur of voices followed as the various ser-
geants called the rolls of their respective companies, then
the blaring notes of a regimental band came to the ears
of the listening youth.

“It’s guard mount,’ he muttered. “It will keep Will
busy for half an hour. He wouldn’t miss the sight for a
farm. If I can find Running Wolf at his shack 1 ought

*to be back before I am missed. : Ha, ha! I’ve got to laugh

just to think of what’s coming. It will be more fun
than a hazing bee. And what will the boys say? Gee!
Thad, ahd Jack, and the rest will just naturally guy the
life out of him.”

Still chuckling, Radcliffe plunged deeper into the woods,
hurrying over the fallen tree branches, and skipping the
miry pools with a lightness of step that showed a familiar-
ity born of long experience.

A squirrel darted across his path, and vanished behind
a tree. From above came a familiar chirruping and a
fluttering of wings, the protest of some feathered tenant

 

-who resented the intrusion,

BIL SORTS. 21
Suddenly another sound
broke the quiet, a faint whimpering snarl that caused the
lad to halt quickly in his tracks.

His hand instinctively went to his side, then he laughed,
and resumed his walk.

“Sounded just like a wild cat or a mountain lion as we
used to hear them in Montana,” he said, aloud. “I forgot
that we are now in Colorado, and there hasn’t been any-

thing fiercer than a horsefly seen near here for many

moons.’

He chuckled, and added:

“I have forgotten the Indians. They are still wild.
At least they will be when I take Will on that personally
conducted hunting trip to-morrow. It will be the funniest
thing that ever happened, and—oh, my! father told me
this very morning to be sure to give Will the time of his
life, so that he would not soon forget his visit to me
at our military home.”

Radcliffe stopped, and held his Sides in an ecstasy of
mirth. After a moment’s thorough enjoyment of the
prospective fun he continued on his way.

A brisk walk of a quarter of a mile brought him to
the bank of a deep-running stream, which wound its .
devious way between a tangle of overhanging trees and |

-matted brush.

A short distance up the river, and on the same bank,

- was a low cliff with the upper half jutting out over the

water, Under this natural shelter and leaning against
the rocky wall was a rude “shack,” made of tree branches

_ and roofed with leaves and an old army shelter tent.

The still smoking embers of a wood fire near the
edge of the river indicated the recent presence of the .
man of whom Radcliffe had come in search.

The lad strode to the shack, and glanced inside, then

‘he laughed,

“T wish Will could see this,’ he said, aloud. “His
high Eastern ideas of Lo, the poor Indian! would get a
jolt. Hello! Running Wolf must have heard me; he’s
getting up.’

-A half-strangled snoré followed by a snort sounded
beyond the rude walls of the hut, then with a grunt a
figure came ag one? the opening which served
as a door.

The figure - was that of an yee not the noble red
man of literature, but-a greasy, dissolute, disreputable
Indian, clad in a white man’s frayed and abandoned -
trousers, a white man’s well-worn undershirt, and an
ancient campaign hat with sodden brim that hung down
over the wearer’s ears like a Salvation Army poke bonnet.

This apparition yawned, stretched its arms, and grunted,
then suddenly catching sight of the boy, turned and
leaped back into the shack with an indescribable howl.

Radcliffe gave a whoop of laughter.

“Come back here, you scared coyote,” he cried. “I
am not going to hurt you. What’s the matter, Running
Wolf? This looks suspicious. Afraid of your own,
shadow, hey? What have you been stealing?”

Running Wolf sheepishly emerged from the hut. Near
the edges of his mouth was a seamy contortion which evi-
dently served as an Indian grin.

“Tt you, Mr. McCauley?” he gruntéd. “Running Wolf
thought it one of dem bad soldier from the fort. Dey
come mek me fish, and den beat me for pay. What you
want 27 ‘

Radcliffe caught his shoulder, and led hic down to the
edge of the river. There he spoke earnestly for several

 
 

ec THB BURR ALO

minutes. He laughed his merry, contagious laugh as
he finished, but the Indian’s face was that of a graven
_ Image.

“Will you do it?” asked the boy eagerly. ‘“‘It means a
two-dollar bill for you, and one each for the others.”

“You give me all the money?” questioned the ee
greedily.

“Yes, if you will square your friends. Mind you, I
want at least three of you. And with ripping strong
voices, too. Plenty of war whoops, and all that. I’ve
brought two boxes of blank cartridges for you so you can
do some tall shooting. But say, no monkey business. I
don’t want my friend hurt.”

Running Wolf grunted.

“Him scare, eh?’ he asked.

“That’s what [-am after. He doesn’t know any more
about the West and Indians than you do about soap.
Why, he thinks Cooper’s noble red men were the real
thing. You don’t know Cooper, eh? ,, Well, I guess he
didn’t know you, so you’re about even.’

After a few further words of instruction, Radcliffe
set off for the fort.

Guard mounting was just ending as he reached the
parade ground, and he met his father, the colonel. com-
manding, entering post headquarters. With the colonel
was a tall, rather loose-jointed youth-with a shock of
light-brown hair. He was homely. His jaws were an-
gular, and his ears large, but there was a latent gleam
in the brown eyes that betokened a strong reserve force
of something, perhaps humor, or maybe self-reliance.

“Well; you are a nice one,” he called out, as Rad-
cliffe approached, “leaving a fellow like this. Anda guest
all the way from New York, too.
this guard mount without a soul to tell me the difference
between the drum,major and the mascot goat.”

“Where have you been, Radcliffe?” asked the colonel.

The lad’s eyes twinkled, but he answered, demurely
enough:

“Making arrangements to give Will the time of his
life, father. You know we start on our hunting trip up
Wizard River in the morning. And by the same token,
I’ve more things to‘look after. I want to get the shelter
tents, and arrange for the buckboard. If you will ex-
cuse us, father, we'll trot along, and finish our prepara-
tions, Come, Will.”

“What time do we start ?”’ asked the shock-haired youth,
as they left the colonel.

“Daylight,” was Radcliffe’s brief reply.

“Better commence getting up before dark, then,”
drawled Will. “Myexperience with you back at college is
that you have to use a wrecking derrick to lift your
eyelids in the morning.”

“Oh, I’ll be on time to-morrow, all right,” grinned
Radcliffe. “T wouldn’t miss the fun we're going to have
for a commission in the army.’

“You evidently expect good hunting.”

“Best in Colorado. How’s your marksmanship, Will?”

“Fair to middling.”

“Could. you hit a bear at twenty paces?”

Will chuckled.

“Depends whether it was tied or not, I guess,” he re-
plied. “If it wasn’t I think I could hit the road for home.
But say, you don't expect to’run up against any really
and truly wild animals like that, do you?’

Radcliffe looked mysterious. They were passing the
ordnance storehouse at that moment. A number of

Pye been watching —

BILE STORIES.

soldiers in working uniforms were carrying forth boxes

of small ammunition and piling them in front of: the
building. .A young lieutenant in charge of the men nodded
to the boys as they approached. ge

“Getting ready, Mr. Williams?” asked Rade te

“Ves,” replied the officer solemnly. “No telling when it
will happen, you know.”

“Do you understand what that means?” Radcliffe asked
Will, as they passed on. “I guess you don’t. Hm-m-m!
we won't talk about it.”

“Looks mighty like they were getting out stuff for the
man. behind the gun. Whgt’s up? Expect any trouble?”

Radcliffe hesitated, lodked about him, and then replied
cautiously: ~°

“There are Indians in Colofado, you know.”

“Indians? Get out, You wouldn’t hunt them with
soldiers and a gun, would you? Why, I thought all the
good Indians were dead, and the rest selling German-
made beadwork at Niagara Falls. Go to, you kidder.”’

“All right, chum. Have it your own way. I haven't’

said: anything.”

He added to himself, with an inward chuckle:

“T haven’t, either. When I asked Lieutenant Williams
if he was getting ready, I meant for the quarterly in-
spection of ammunition and‘ordnance stores. Gee! his
answer was just right.”

“How about this hunting trip if there’s any trouble :

brewing?” asked Will, as they turned into the quarter-
master’s storehouse. “I wonder your father would let

‘you go.”

“Oh, welll keep within easy distance of the post.
way, nothing is expected for several days.”

In the bustle of preparing for the hunting expedition
the subject was lost isight of. Promptly at daybreak the

following. morning. an army buckboard wagon *drawn
‘by two well-fed mules left the reservation... :

Radcliffe drove, and Will divided his time between
praising the scenery and talking of the approaching foot-
ball season,

“The glorious air out here ‘will make meas fit as a
_fiddle for preliminary work on the eleven,”
they jogged along, “Now, if I only get a chance to do

He said, as

some exercising stunts, running or something, Pl be in
trim.”

Radcliffe smothered a laugh.

“Don’t worry, my boy,” he replied.
an opportunity to do some tall running before you go
home.”

There was something so peculiar in Radcliffe’s tone that
Will glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Then
he fell to musing.

EY ott will a

Anys |

The October morning was clear and sharp, just such a.

day as one would want to go hunting on. The wind
blowing from the mountain sent the fallen leaves scurry-
ing across the road, and caused -even the dull-witted
government mules to toss their heads and swing along at
a speedy trot.

‘The two boys fairly grinned with the joy of living.

“This is great,” said: Will, aftet a-while.. “What is
better than outdoors? Give me the free, open air, and
plenty of good, vigorous athletics. Why, do you know,
Raddy, Pd rather play football, for instance, pore eat
my dinner.”

“That's true enough. But I wouldn’t want to miss

supper on the same day, especially out here where tne «

air gives you an appetite like the point of a coon’s tooth.

 

 

 

 
   

 

 

 

  

THE BUPPALO

Speaking of eating reminds me that we haven’t had

breakfast. Suppose you open that haversack, and find
some sandwiches. There’s boiled eggs, too, and a pie the
mater put in for good luck. Pie for breakfast is real
New England, isn't it? I don’t care, pie’s good at any
old time.”

_ That meal was one long remembered by the boys.

They let the mules take charge of the road, while they
sat, and munched, and talked over the boys at Yale, and
the chances of the varsity eleven, and the many ‘little
subjects so dear to the healthy boy’ s heart.

Squirrels came out to the edge of the path, and flirted
their tails at them. Hawks swooped down and then flut-
tered away, amazed at the merry laughter. And just
beyond sight.in the forest skirting the road stalked three
Indians with bodies streaked with red and yellow pent
and heads decked out with gaudy feathers.

An hour’s drive brought the boys to a spot where the
main thoroughfare turned to the right, leaving a narrow
and exceedingly crooked and weed-grown path to con-
tinue on up the side of a rugged, sloping hill. This the
outfit took, and it required skillful driving to steer the
buckboard to a place some thousand yards farther on,
which apparently was Radcliffe’s destination.

“We'll pitch, our camp over there on the top of that
rocky knoll,” he announced, reinirig up. “You see, the
river is within easy distance, and—and if there should
be any necessity, we could stand off an army from those
rocks,”

“Still talking about Indians?” asked Will pleasantly.

“IT am not talking at all, chum. Let’s get unpacked,
and tether the mules. I'll see to the latter part of it
if you will take the stuff up the knoll.”

It was agreeable work on such a sprightly day, and

before long the tents were rigged, the stores assorted,
and a fire going in a sheltering nook between two rocks.

While Radcliffe commenced to prepare the dinner,
Will set out to- see. what he could shoot.
tioned net to go far, and always to keep his gun in
hand.

“You will find a . place about four hundred yards up the
river where game has been seen,” advised Radcliffe ek
bear was shot there forty-three years ago.” v

“Well, I'll try to pot its great-grandson,” drawled the
shock-haired youth, swinging out of sight between the
trees. “Don’t you joke, I may surprise you.”

“We'll see who me be surprised,’ chuckled Radcliffe
to himself.

He waited for a space of ten minutes, then stood up on
a rock, and called loudly his chum’s name. There was
no reply save the echoes of his own voice. Apparently
satisfied, he made a sound like an owl’s hoot, repeating
it thrice.

An answering call came from within a dozen yards of
him, and an Indian slouched into the little camp.

“Running Wolf here,” announced the newcomer.

“Well, .you-.are gotten up regardless,” laughed Rad-
cliffe, eying the ocher-smeared, half-naked body, and the
long trailing headdress. ‘Ready for business?” -

“Heap ready,’ grunted the Indian, “When you want?”

“Better make it just at daybreak, Ill have him stand
watch from three o’clock, and his nerves will be pretty
wel on edge by daylight.”

“Him no shoot?”

"Od course;

That's s the fun ef te?

   

He was cau-

BILL STORIES.

Running Wolf grunted.
“T go home now,’ he said dully.
- Radcliffe chuckled and held up an army cartridge.
pee this bullety he said. its lamphlack., 7 You
needn't be afraid, it won’t hurt you. Now get out be-
fore my friend comes back. Remember, daybreak and
plenty of war whoops.”
Running Wolf faded from sight. Radcliffe calmly
continued his cooking, and presently Will sauntered into
camp whistling a college air. He threw down his gun
and removed his hunting jacket.

“Guess that bear’s great-grandkid must have died with
the pip,” he said. “I didn’t see hide nor hair or him.
Is dinner ready 2” ,

“In a pair of minutes. Set the table.’

Will solemnly brushed the moss off the top of a flat

‘rock, laid out two agateware plates, two tin cups, and a

paper parcel of salt, then carefully arranged near them
the remains of a pie and a huge loaf of bread. By this
time the meat Radcliffe had beén boiling in a pot was
ready.

Although they had breakfasted not two hours before,
their appetites were keen and they made short work of
the supplies.

The afternoon was yen in making little side trips.
When darkness came both were tired, and Will did not
object when he was told to turn in until three o’clock.
Neither did he make any further comments on the Indian
question.

Radcliffe called him promptly at the hour.

“Now all you have to do is to sit up here and keep your
eye peeled,” he added. “I’ve let the fire go out as a matter
of precaution, and it’s rather chilly. But I fancy I heard
some queer sounds on the opposite side or the river, and
we can't be too careful. Call me the instant you hear
anything unusual.” ie

He was snoring within five minutes.

- Left to himself Will sat upon his rock for a while,
then he stepped out into an open space and began to
conduct himself in rather an extraordinary manner. He
swung his arms and punched wildly at an imaginary bag. -
He kept this up for some time, finally desisting through
sheer fatigue. Resuming-his seat he watched the ona
dawning of day.

The approach of the sun was heralded by a great out-
burst of chirruping. The humming chorus of the night
gave way to a multitude of noises as if every denizen
of the woods was eager to welcome the coming of light.

‘Suddenly, just as the rays were strong enough to
make objects visible, a strange sound burst into the
clamor, It was a human cry, a piercing, shrill whoop.

Then a shot was fired within a short distance of the
camp.

The report wakened Radcliffe, and 7 sprang from
his tent with an exclamation. Will was lying full length
upon one of the rocks, with his rifle pointed ae
the bushes edging the river.

As Radcliffe bounded.to his side the rifle ake ‘the
sharp report brought immediate replies from three sepa-
rate directions, and again the bloodcurdling war whoops

echoed through the woods.

“Indians!” gasped Radcliffe, snatching up his gun.
“Just as | feared. Oh, why did we leave the post?”

“Pretty serious situation,” replied Will, with surprising
calmness. “We've got to face it, though. We are well
 

24 ‘THE BUFFALO

“located here, and we ought to be able to hold them off
for a while. We'll see what we can do, anyway.”

“But the place swarms with them,” groaned Radcliffe.
“From the noises there must be a million of the savages
between us and the fort.”

He fired hastily at a feather-crowned head which dis-
covered itself above a near-by bush. Will also took a
snap chance, but there were no answering cries of pain.

The fusillade became warmer and the voices of the
Indians more penetrating. The bushes were agitated in
several places as if numbers of the foe were moving
down upon the camp. Suddenly an Indian stepped from
behind a tree and held up one hand.

* “Me talk,” he said shrilly. “You no shoot.”

“Keep him /covered,” whispered Radcliffe.
what he has to say.” He added loudly:

“What is it? Speak quickly and explain this attack.
We are from the fort, and if you harm-us your whole
tribe will be wiped out.”

The Indian tossed his head proudly. |

“No more fort, he grunted. “We kill them last night.
You surrender and we no kill you. See, here more In-
dians. We got thousands to you.”

Two other painted braves stepped into view as he spoke,
and just then a strange thing happened. —

To his unbounded amazement Radcliffe saw Will drop
his gun and spring over the rock which served him as a
breastwork. The shock-haired youth gave a shrill ery,
and, snatching up a broken tree branch, raced directly
down upon the trio of Indians.

Before they could move he gave the foremost one a

“Til see

crack upon the head that sent the fellow to the earth.

Still shouting, Will turned upon the second and paralyzed
him with a blow squarely in the face. Then he made
a swoop at the third.

The third was Running Wolf. a

This particular Indian was a sprinter by birth, and he
turned and fairly tore through the bushes. Reaching the
river, he splashed in and, half wading and half swim-
ming, gained the opposite side.

But Will was within easy reach and the astounded spec-
tator on the rocks heard the thuds of the tree branch as
the two disappeared in the woods.

It was fully ten minutes before the shock-haired youth
again appeared. He was panting for breath, and his
tongue lolled from his motith, as if he found it difficult
to breathe. The tree branch was gone, but in one hand he
clutched the torn remnants of a gaudy headdress.

“T say,” he called out, “any of therm left over there?”

Radcliffe simply sat and stared: He was still too
amazed for words. Leisurely wading the river, Will
climbed the knoll and threw himself upon- the ground.
Then he opened his big, homely mouth and laughed until
the tears came. ~

“Tt was great,’ he finally managed to gasp. “Talk
about football, say, Raddy, you can give me a scrap with
- trio of fake Indians every time.”

Radcliffe grinned sheepishly.

“So you were on?” he said.

Will dropped one eyelid in a tantalizing wink.

“You wise one,” he chuckled. “The next time you try
the game be sure your victim is not within hearing dis-
tance. I was back of that rock when your Mister In-,
dian paid you the visit yesterday. I heard it all.”

“Let’s have breakfast,” said Radcliffe.

Bian STORIES,

WHO WAS GEORGE BRYSON?

By W. BERT POSTER. i

CHAPTER 1,
A CASTAWAY.

As the car swung around the curve I caught at one’of
the straps, but missed it. The conductor’s drawled warn-
ing: “Hold fast!” did not save me. I flopped into a
fat man’s lap, and sprawled there helplessly for a moment.

The fat man grunted in a surprised way; then he said
something which I did not catch, but was surely uncom-
plimentary. The car took the reverse curve, and I was
assisted to the other side in quite as undignified a manner
as my former exhibition. ae

Narrowly escaping a second human cushion, I seized the
window frame with a desperate grip, and a moment later

_ we came to a halt where the transfer agent stands.

Of course, the whole company was broadly a-grin, and
I could not blame them—afterward. At. the moment,
however, | was.so confused and embarrassed that I could
think of nothing but a means of escape. And the 'stop-
ping of the car presented this to.me.

I made for the door, and was on the sidewalk before I
looked around to see where I had landed.

I felt bewildered. There was something the matter be-
side my ungraceful performance in the car. The latter
vehicle clanged on up the street, and I started after it
wonderingly. I could see the grinning face of the con-
ductor on the rear platform.

I was the only passenger who had alighted, so my
blushes were not renewed by the. staring of any ill-bred
person who might have witnessed my overthrow.

Indeed, that matter passed quickly from my mind. And
slight wonder that this was so, for, cudgel my brain as I
might, I could not understand where I was, how I had
gotten here, nor what had been my destination before my
awkward flight from the electric.

A broad street, the noise of wagons and cabs, the clang
the rattle of cars passing and repassing in a continuous
stream of traffic, was before me as I stood upon the curb:
T glanced back at the park, the bordering trees of which
cast p grateful shade. :

Where was I?

It is hard—indeed, it is quite impossible—for me to
explain lucidly the dull oppression which had seized upon
me. That I had been suddenly smitten, I was sure.’

It seemed that only the moment before that car lurched
me into the fat man’s lap, my mind had been normal, and
I must have been following some well-defined train of
thought. Indeed, the thought, whatever it had been, was
all but in my mental grasp, now, and yet, elusively, kept
beyond it. LG

The query: “Where am 1?” was quickly succeeded by
others of vastly more importance.

“Who am IT?” I muttered, passing my hand over my
forehead, thus tipping back my hat. The forehead was
broad, rather high, and I felt that, either because of the
heat of the day or because it was naturally so, the hair
curled in tight rings above the brow. ae
_ Can you imagine the sensation? ¥ knew I was touch-
ing my own forehead; I knew that was my own hair, for
I had seen my hand travel upward. But it was absolutely
strange to me. -

RQ

 

 

cor ee

hee a 8S ans
 

 

‘THE BUFFALO

; oes seemed noes familiar in the “feel” of my own
es

Where had I been going? What was my Dae in
this place? And thus my amazed thought returned to the
first question: “Where am I?”

I glanced rapidly at the few persons near me, with
a sudden fear that something in my appearance might be-

tray to them my strange condition of mind. But my
neighbors—most of them people waiting for cars—were
blandly unconscious of my presence.

Suppose they should suspect. my mental cue - That I
must be going insane was the first explanation which stung
me.
and shut up somewhere; I had heard stories of madhouses
that were not encouraging, to say the least.

I shook myself at that, and tried to laugh down my
fears. “What a dunce lam!’ I] muttered. “Insane people
do not, as a rule, know ‘that they are insane. They are
more likely to believe that other people are crazy.’

I turned on my heel, and went into the park.
strangely weak and unsteady when I walked.

“Can it be that the sun has done this?” I muttered.

It was a warm day, a beautiful day, but not the sort
of temperature that causes sunstroke. I sought a bench
in the shade, and sat down, feeling glad that there were
few people on the neighboring settees.

Looking about the square again, it began to weigh upon
me that-I had seen this place before. It was not as
familiar as an everyday scené would be; but I was sure
that this was not my first visit to the park.

I watched the cars whipping around the two curves
where I’ had experienced my mishap, and suddenly ob-
served the sign “Broadway” on one. Another swift glance
about the park stirred my memory deeper. Why, I must
be in New York! That was surely the curve in Broad-
way at Fourteenth Street—“Dead Man’s Curve,’ I had
heard “it called; and I was sitting in—yes!—in Union
Square Park.

I clapped my hands with joy, and then blushed as I saw
that my action had drawn the glances of some of the
other occupants of the park. But my sensitiveness was
forgotten the next moment, as I pursued this train of
thought which seemed so promising.

This was indeed Union Square; I had been here before,
of course. It could not be that it seemed familiar merely
from my having seen a picture of the place. But what
was I doing in New York? Surely I did not live here
—that seemed quite certain, or this place would not have
appeared so.strange to me.

And who was 1? This query coming to the fore again
made me fairly gasp. What was the matter with me
that I could not remember my name, or identify myself
in any way! I came near crying out in my agony of
mind.

“Surely, this strange malad¥, whatever it may be, will

«pass in a little,’ I said, trying to calm myself. “It
won't ee Something has happened; I have been
hurt, or r#teived a shock of some kind. It will soon pass.”
But the moments fled, and the more I tried to think the
greater became my confusion. I could not remember the
first thing about myself. I-could not think of my name,
whether I had parents, a family, friends! It was an awful
feeling, as though I were lost—cast away like a ae
wrecked mariner.
I did not know my own age, nor how i looked. At
this thought, I glanced down at that portion of my body

I felt

If my condition was discovered, I would be seized -

\

BILL STORIES 25
which I could easily see, and obverved that I was well
built, probably five feet nine or ten inches in height; I
was well clothed, too.

I was for springing up at once, and seeking a mirror
somewhere that I might see my face. Perhaps, I thought,
a sight of my own visage will set my memory to work-
ing properly.

But as I half arose from the bench my hands sought

the side pocket of the coat I wore, and in the right-hand

pocket was a small, round, flat article, which I drew forth
hastily. It was a little pocket Mulror. 4

The thought flashed into my mind: ‘Now, this is a
common article; it evidently belongs to me; the very touch
of the thing should quicken my remembrance.”

But it didn’t. I turned the glass over and over in my
hands for several minutes, waiting for an inspiration. But
I felt nothing. “The mirror was as strange tome as the
touch of my own face seemed to my hand.

Finally I looked into the glass. Usually there is noth-
ing so familiar to one as the reflection of his own face.
But suppose one ‘should come suddenly before a mirror
and see staring out of the glass at him a countenance
which is as strange as though it belonged to a oe in
the Antipodes ?

Pll tell you the idea which first flashed across my trou-
bled brain when I thus looked at the stranger in the glass.
It strikes one as extremely foolish, of course; but at that
instant nothing seemed too wild or improbable to my mind.

Could it be that by some magic—some miracle beyond
my poor understanding—I had exchanged bodies with a
stranger? This I, this ego, this soul with which I thought
and felt, certainly did not recognize the face which was
reflected in.that little mirror!

What I saw was a smooth, fair face, the features of
no particular regularity or beauty, though the nose was
straight and good, and the jaw firm enough. I did not
look like a weakling, though there was nothing to distinc-
tively mark me from.a thousand other young fellows one
sees. If I had exchanged bodies with some stranger I had
not been particularly unfortunate in the bargain!

My hair was inclined to be sandy, and curled tightly,
as I had previously discovered. My eyes were dark blue.
Altogether I quite approved of myself.

My mind lingered but shortly on these lighter thoughts ;
my affliction weighed upon my spirits too heavily. 1] had
heard of people who lost memory of friends and home,
and who wandered away and remained for years before
they found themselves, or were found again, by those who
knew them. It was not a pleasing prospect to conteny:
plate.

I shrank from letting anybody, especially strangers,
know my condition. I feared that by looking into my
face the passers-by might discover my trouble, and I
kept my eyes for the most part on the walk.

_A ragamuffin newsboy went through the park, and
thrust a paper into my face. It struck me that I did not
even know the date; the day of the month, or year, and
I bought the sheet. My fingers sought my trousers pocket
involuntarily for the penny, and I found a goodly handful
of silver there. I was not unsupplied with money, then.

I spread out the paper before me. It was one of the
early afternoon editions with its ugly smudges of type
in red and black—one of those nightmares of horror that

curse the streets of New York. My eyes sought the head- — |

ing. It was Monday, the fourteenth of September, 1903.
Then my glance dropped to the news, and the head-

 
 

26 THE BUPEALO

lines of the story in the first column held me spellbound.
The black type read: “Young Man Lost Identity; Mys-
i terious Case Puzzles Police and Doctors.” I began to
read the text eagerly, believing that 1 was perusing the
story of my own unhappy situation.

CHARTER i.
THE CONTENTS OF THE WALLET.

This thought, I must admit, horrified me. I crushed
the paper in my hand, after a moment, and half arose from
the bench, thinking to run away. But where should I
run, and from whom? The thought of having my state
of mind known to people at large actually made me ill,
and I glanced hastily around again to see who was obsery-
ing me.

But there was not a person looking in my direction. I
pulled myself together, and spread the newspaper out once
more,
of the unidentified man. Why, he was years older than
me, and had a mustache! By no possible means—not
even by newspaper art—could one suppose that that pic-
ture looked like me, and I breathed relievedly.

I read through the article. It seems this young man
had gone to a police station nearly a week before, and
asked the authorities to help him find his friends and
home. He was in a very nervous state—much as I was
myself, | presume—and the police sent him to one of the
hospitals, where he was now being watched with great
interest by the physicians. |

He had, indeed, become a public character; he might
as well have been in a dime museum, or have hired a
hall and put himself upon exhibition, By this publicity
the police and newspapers hoped to find the man’s friends.
But, excuse me! Police and publicity was not what I
wanted. The thought made me shiver.

Yet I acknowledged, as I put down the paper, that a
grave query faced me. What should I do? My family,
if I had one, might be anxiously searching for me. Some
serious consideration might require my presence in an
entirely different place from Union Square, New York,
at this very moment. Yet I was helpless to keep any en-
gagement, or to perform any duty which was mine in my
proper character. :

This young man in the paper had been penniless and
hungry when he gave himself up to the tender mercies.
of the police and doctors. I was neither. My left hand
again sought the pocket where the silver lay. There was
‘over a dollar’s worth of change. |

I began to search my other pockets. The fingers of my
tight hand inserted themselves into the little change, or
watch pocket, on the right side of the waistband of my
trousers. I was impressed at the moment by the thought
that, dull as my brain felt, and astray as my mind was,
those fingers were mechanically obeying the law of habit.

I must have been in the habit of keeping my money
in that pocket, and as I drew out a folded bank note, the
thought—as well as the money—gave me encouragement.
This strange aberration of mind would not last long, My
body was responding to habitual messages received from
my brain. I had not been astray long enough to over-
come old methods of doing things. My real identity—my
true character—-seemed just beyond my grasp. Memory
would soon come back to me.

And then I unfolded the bank note, and saw that it
was a yellow-backed bill with two Xs on its face. “Good!”

Then I noticed a picture purporting to be that ©

BILL. STORIES.

I muttered. “A. twenty-dollar note isn’t so bad. [
ought to remember something before that—and the change
in my pocket—is used up.” . ee

As I had begun the exploration of my pockets, I con-
tinued. I carried no watch. It crossed my mind at the
moment that this lack of a timepiece was unfortunate.
One might be able to trace himself by his watch, for
watches are always numbered, and correspondence with
the watch manufactory, with the jobber, and lastly with
the retail dealer, would probably have resulted in the dis-
covery of when the watch was purchased, and to whom
it was sold.

My vest pockets weré comparatively empty, so I turned
my attention to the inside pockets of my coat. In the
one on the right side my hand found a rather large, flat
wallet. My heart beat faster at this discovery, and when
I held the book in my hands I hesitated a moment before
opening it. ee
- In that wallet lay, perhaps, the explanation of who I
was, and all about me. Japhet in search of his father
was no more eager to unfold his mystery than I was to
view the contents of the wallet; yet I almost feared to
look into the thing! : enn

At last, with a quick glance around to see if 1 was being
watched, I slipped off the strap’ which confined the book,
and opened it. There were several compartments, and at
first glance | muttered: “What! more money?” —

There was quite a packet of neatly folded bills, and
when I glanced at the top one, and saw that it was
for fifty dollars, I was delighted. Surely, I must be well-
to-do, if all this money belonged to me.

But this was too public a place to count the bills, and
I looked into the other compartments of the wallet.
To my delight there were several engraved cards in one,
all alike, and all displaying the same name: “George
Bryson.”

I stared at it: long and thoughtfully. Of course, this
must be my own name, but I declare it stirred nothing
in my memory. It was as strange to me as though I had
really seén it for the first time. In my present state of
mind, Mr. George Bryson was a stranger to me!

But this feeling of doubt passed ina moment. Instead,
there rushed in upon me a flood of new thoughts and

hopes, rising out of this discovery. If I did not know my-

self, somebody would surely know me. If I was far from
my home and friends, my name would be recognized by
those who knew me.
Should I go to the police—write to the newspapers—
advertise? To tell the truth, all these suggestions affected
me the same way; | shrank from them. Yet with my ,
name for a foundation I was confident that my discovery
of my true identity was close at hand. There might be
other important matters in the wallet, too, and I put the
cards back into their own compartment, and examined
further. . oe
First I found a paper which appeared to be a memo-
tandum. ‘There were a series of figures upon the paper,
which meant nothing to me; but not a name %r a word
which might help me. I examined further, and discovered
a folded paper and a small, flat key in another of the
pockets, or ee aaa
The paper proved to be partly printed and partly writ-
ten, and was a receipt for a box in the Monadnock Safety
Deposit Company, on Broadway. The key had “Monad-
nock” stamped upon it, too, so I judged that-must fit the

box in question.

 

 

 
CD ee ee

SASS

 

 

 

eR CN Ia a eee

: ad my thought was this:

 

THE BUFFALO

PAt last.’ Titold riysel springing up from the bench,
and crowding the wallet back into my pocket. “I have
struck the right trail. If I am George Bryson, and have
hired a box at this safety-deposit company, there must be

something in that box which will help me learn what I

want to know.”

I began to walk, turning northward, for the number of
the Monadnock Company was some distance up the street.
And, as soon as I began to exercise, I felt that strange
weakness which had shaken me when I left the car half
an hour before.

“I'believe I am hungry,” I thought. “Why I should
have gone without eating, though, and with all this money
about me, is a mystery.” -

Glancing back at the clock in front of the Lincoln
Building, I saw that it was approaching noon.- Time for
luncheon, anyway, and I went on, keeping to the east side
of Broadway, until I came to the first hotel, which I en-
tered.

Hunger may not have been altogether the cause of my
faintness and wedkness; but the food tasted good, and I
felt Wetter upon finishing the meal. Meanwhile, I. was
thinking hard.

It was really very strange that I could remember noth-
ing about the safety-deposit box, or its contents.. Suppose
I had not personally engaged the box, what. would the
bank officials say to me when I presented myself there?
J was not anxious to get into trouble over it.

If my right to examine the contents of box ten thou-
sand and seven, as the receipt read, was questioned, the
police might take an interest in the affair, after all, and in
a way that would not be at all comfortable. Before the
end of the meal I was not half so eager to go to the

Monadnock Company as when I left the bench at’Union.

Square.

There. might be a possibility that I was not George
Bryson. And, anyway, George Bryson’s name was not on
the receipt for the box. I grew troubled again, and very
despondent.

Was there no other way by which I might convince
myself of my right to the name engraved on the visiting
cards in my wallet? Was there not some means of
strengthening this belief in my identity?

And then it was that I.had what I considered a very
bright idea.. I was well dressed; my clothing was of
good texture, although I had to confess that my suit
was not of the same quality or color throughout. Before
this I had scarcely given the fact a passing thought.

Now, as I pushed back from the table, I saw plainly
that my trousers and vest were alike, and of a dark-steel
color, while my coat, of much better material, was black.
The combination did not look bad, yet 1 was suddenly
smitten with a feeling that possibly the coat was not
mine, or that the othér garments did not really belong
tome. It did not strike me that I-would be the sort of a
fellow who would wear a “combination” suit of clothes.

But this was only guessing. The idea which had trans-
I might be able to prove who
I was a good deal more to my satisfaction by my clothing.

My linen must have marks upon it—if only laundry marks

—that might assure me. And tailors ustially sew labels
upon men’s garments.

“E will get a room at once, and there I can strip ae
and examine what I am wearing,’ I decided, and paying
my check in haste I hurried into the hotel office, and was

BILL STORIES. 27

quickly assigned to a room, for which I paid out of my
twenty-dollar bill.

“That money seems to be mine, anyway,’ | thought,
“whether what is in the wallet belongs to me or not.”

CHAPTER Til,
Tite TORN “LETTER.

_Once alone, with the key turned upon the rest of the
world, I walked over to the long cheval glass, and looked
at myself. This view was much more satisfactory than
that I had obtained in the little pocket mirror. .

I was a very well-built fellow, weighing, perhaps, a
hundred and fifty or sixty pounds, and although my face
was extremely pale, I did not really look like an invalid.
The curious, strained look in my eyes, however, was
quite noticeable.

“T must cure that. I look like a man caught stealing,
or doing something else he shouldn't do!

“And, by George! I stopped in the middle af this
soliloquy, and never finished it aloud; for I was smitten
by a cross current of thought. I had used involuntarily
an emphatic expression which was probably familiar to
my lips. “By George!” is used often enough by thought-
less people, and is probably preferable to some stronger
expressions.

But here~ was what startled me: If my name was
George Bryson, would I be likely to use that particular.
expression? A man doesn’t often use his own name as ©
an exclamation, or to emphasize his remarks. This thing,
small as it was, troubled me.

I turned away from the glass, and began to remove
my clothing slowly. My hat was a dark gray, soft felt,
with a flat, Stetson brim, and dented in at the top and
sides. ‘And it was brand-new. Warm as the morning
was, the leather band upon the inside was scarcely dis- .
colored by the perspiration of my forehead.

“T certainly haven’t worn that long,” I muttered. Then
I glanced down at the vest and trousers, and saw that
they seemed to be new, likewise. But the black coat,
which I had removed, showed traces of some wear.

I looked first for the tailor’s mark upon the inside of
the coat collar. It had been removed. The coat did not
look like a ready-made garment, yet I thought it did not
fit me as a custom coat should. This discovery increased
my fear that I was masquerading i in a borrowed coat.

Inside one of the inner pockets I found the label show-
ing the garment. to have been union made; but that did
not help me out in the least. Had I been able to discover
the name of the tailor, he would, of course, remember mé,
if the coat had been made to my order. I threw down
the garment with a sigh, and began to remove my other
articles of clothing.

‘There was no mark upon vest or trousers. My shirt I
saw was brand-new, and had upon it no mark or identi-
fication, not even the dealer’s name, The manufacturer's
tag was of no use to me. My collar’and cuffs were like-
wise new, and, I saw with displeasure, were not exactly
clean. I determined before I went out again, to send one
of the hotel boys for clean ones.

There was no mark on my undergarments or socks,
and finally I began to dress again, feeling that I had dis-
covered nothing to assist my troubled mind. Not a mark
of identification upon any garment; not a dealer’s tag:

The hat! I seized it, half dressed as I was, and car-
ried it nearer the window, where the light was stronger.

 

 

 
 

2B THE BUFFALO

The maker’s name was not all that there was inside that
article of headgear. :

There, stamped upon the leather band, was the name
of the dealer from whom I had, of course, purchased the
hat. It was a Hebrew name, and the address told me that
it must be ‘way downtown, although, to my surprise, I
did not know just where the store was. If I had pur-
chased that hat myself—and it had not been bought long
since—I had forgotten the incident quite as completely as
I had forgotten my identity. ye

I decided on the spot to make inquiries at the shop
of the hatter; but it was now past noon, I did-not know
at what hour the Monadnock Company closed its doors,
and I was undecided which clew to follow first. To tell
the truth, I was a little shaky about the safety-deposit
box; 1f I was not known I might get into trouble by boldly
approaching the bank, and trying to get at the contents
of box number ten thousand and seven.

As I was slowly dressing, turning these things over
and over in my thoughts, I picked up my coat in such a
way that the wallet fell out of the pocket to the floor.
Something else came from the pocket with it, a piece of

paper that floated to the carpet. This I had not seen be- |

fore, and I pounced upon it.

It was but a scrap of writing paper, much creased,
and ragged at the edges as though it had been torn hastily
from a letter. Ata glance I saw why this bit of writing
had been saved. It contained an appointment that I—if
I was George Bryson—did not wish to forget. The piece
of letter read:

“Bring the ten thousand in notes to the dock when I
land from the San Logo on September 18. Don’t fail
me. If you do ao

 

The remainder of the letter had been destroyed, and
there was nothing written on the reverse side of the
paper. I stood, I believe, quite ten minutes with it in
my hands, trying to think what it could mean. Not a
glimmer of understanding came to my confused mind.
All I gained by striving so to think was a throbbing head-
ache.

Concentrate my thoughts as I might, I could not make

head nor tail of this strange matter, nor could I see further

back into my past than that moment when the Broadway
car turned the corner at Dead Man’s Curve!

But my discovery of. the paper had quite driven the

hat idea from my mind. Whatever was to be the out-
come, I. determined to go to the safety-deposit company
at once. I must know what this writing meant. “Bring
the ten thousand in notes’ must refer to the sum of
money, and where should it be Kept but in such a strong
box as this to which I held the key and receipt?
. -I must admit that those few words scrawled tpon the
paper had inspired me with thoughts that quite put my
strange mental condition for the moment in the shade.
Ten thousand dollars! George Bryson in his right mind
and in his proper identity might be used to handling such
sums; but it seemed to me, in my present mood; an excit-
ing, not to say responsible, possibility.

And it reminded me of the money in the wallet. I drew
forth the neatly folded bank notes and counted them.
There were three fifty-dollar notes, and altogether the
packet counted up to three hundred and seventy-five dol-
lars. : !

“Why, I am rich!” I told myself, as I hurriedly fin-

 

"a move on my part as this.

BILL STORIES.

6

ished dressing. “My folks must be remarkably well off,

if IT am used to carrying around so much wealth.”
But I had sense enough to know, deep in my heart,

that there was something very peculiar about this money ©

business. A boy of my age—lI certainly could not be
out of my teens—is not usually the possessor of such a
roll, and the suggestion regarding the ten thousand on
that scrap of paper pointed to some mysterious source of
this wealth. at j

Who was this person who had written me to meet him
—or her ?—with the ten thousand dollars? And the date
was Friday of this very week! But I put this away
from me; there was something else to be looked into first,
and that was the box at the Monadnock.

“Risk or no risk, I must see the inside of that, if pos-
sible,” I muttered, and locking my door, I left the key
with the clerk downstairs, and set forth up Broadway.

The strange weakness of body, and the numbness in
my brain, both seemed to have passed. Perhaps these ex-

citing finds, and the train of thought they led to, were

the best aids to my gaining my self-pofse again. I could
not possibly remember back of my strange awakerting on
the street car; but that fact did not worry me just now.

Reaching the great building, in the basement and first
loft of which the Monadnock Company had its rooms, |
entered as brazenly as possible. My heart beat fast, I
admit, for as I followed one or two other customers to-
ward the rear rooms I half expected to be seized by some
officer of the law lying there in wait for me.

If I was not George Bryson, if that wallet was not
mine, and the box and its contents belonged to somebody
else, the real owner might be on the watch for just such
I began to tremble, and
glanced from side to side.

The imperturbable guard at the inner door had stopped
the man ahead of me for a moment. I saw that the gen-
tleman passed over a paper that looked like a receipt such
as I carried in my wallet. Instantly I drew out the latter,
and was prepared with the paper.when I faced the em-
ployee myself.

“Number ten thousand and seven; all, right, sir,” he
said, with scarcely a glance at me. “Rear room, sir.”

Why, it was so easy that it almost took imy breath!
I hurried down the corridor, and entered an apartment
in which was a long table divided into booths, before which
one could sit, open his private treasure box, and its
contents would not be revealed to everybody else in the
place. An electric droplight with a green shade hung in
each of these booths.

I saw that there were two or three people here, and |
chose a seat away from the others. A uniformed at-
tendant soon came to me. I showed him my receipt
without speaking, and he returned in a few moments with
a small, steel box, on which was painted the correspond
ing number. He saw me open this with my key, and then
softly departed.

I must say that I did this last with a strangely, shivery
feeling. There was so much unreality about it all! It
did not seem possible that this strong box could be mine;
yet it had been the easiest thing in the world to get at it.

I lifted the inner cover of the box, and looked within,

my cufiosity making my fingers tremble. There were

several bulky packages on top, and these I hastily lifted
out and put at one side, as they appeared to be merely
papers and documents. ue RS

Finally I saw something which I seized with eager-

     
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
 

 
   

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THE BUFFALO

ness, and with a little stifled cry. Then, feverish with
fear, half expecting I had been overheard, and that some-
body wotld come to stare at me, I hugged this I had
discovered to my bosom, and looked affrightedly over my
shoulder.

CHAPTER IV.
DO.I ROB MYSELF.

It was a. package of bank notes. Not a thick, bulky
package of soiled bills such as one might get at the bank,
but a thin packet of ten green notes, which rustled like
leaves of parchment, and were each marked with the
figure “one thousand.’

Ten one-thousand-dollar bills. Perhaps I had been
used to handling large sums of money all my life; but if
I had, the effect these crisp bills had upon me was, to
say the least, most strange. :

The money seemed to mea great fortune. And I under-
stood at last what had really spurred me to take the chance
of being stopped at the door of the safety-deposit com-
pany’s strong room. I had hoped that the ten thousand
dollars mentioned in that torn letter would be in this box,
as it was, and now that I had secured the money, I was
delighted in the mere possession of it.

This was avarice. For the moment, at least, the money
was mine. The fear that I, perhaps, had no right to
come to this, and to handle the money and papers, now
gave way to a fear that somebody might seek to take
the money from me. ns

Hastily did I thrust the packet into the breast pocket
of my waistcoat, glancing around meanwhile to make
sure that I was not observed. Then, with trembling hands
and fast-beating heart, I turned to the neatly tied packages
of papers.

The money had quite driven the thought of my condi-
tion from my mind for the moment. But now | remem-
bered what I had ostensibly came for. Among these
papers I hoped to find something that would tell me who
I was—or, at least, inform me of my connection with the
contents of the box. i

But I was doomed to disappointment. The papers were
engraved certificates of stock, and interest-bearing bonds
of the United States government. But nowhere on the
stocks was there the name of their owner written, and
the bonds were unregistered. I knew too little about
either class of securities to suspect how they could be
made to reveal their owner's name.

I figured up the face value of the papers. They rep-
resented one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and
the magnitude of the sum dumfounded me. I began
to shake in my chair. Here was, in all, one hundred and
thirty thousand dollars; it was impossible that such a
sum could be honestly under my sole guardianship !

I almost put the ten thousand in bank notes back in
the box. Then I remembered the instructions in the torn
letter. I was to meet the writer of that letter with the
ten thousand when the San Logo docked on Friday.
“Better take the money with you,” the tempter whis-
pered. ‘You'll only have to come back if you don’t.”

_ And then, perhaps some hitch might occur—I might be
denied entrance to the strong room if I came again. The
packet of bank notes remained in my inner pocket.

1 huddled the other papers back into the box, closed it,
and summoned the attendant, who removed it to its
proper place. Then, with nervous tread and apprehen-
sive glances over my shoulder, as though I feared the

BILL STORIES. | 29

\
sudden pressure of the laws hand upon me, I left the
place.

If my thoughts had been disquieting before, they were
a hundred times more so now. Perhaps my sense of
right and wrong was a little dulled, but I can assure the
reader that I had not seized that packet of bank notes
without some appreciation of what I was doing. I tried
to tell myself, however, that if 1 was robbing anybody at
all, I was robbing myself !

If all this money and these bonds were not my own,
how came they in my possession? An unanswerable
query, truly.

Yet I was by no means satisfied as | wandered along
the crowded street. The people who passed me aroused
little interest in my mind, My thoughts were entirely
introspective for a time. Then I found that I had been
walking uptown instead’ of down.

But I did not turn back. The day had grown warmer,
and Broadway was at its brightest. I knew I had seen
the thoroughfare before, and had wandered along it in
just this way; but I could not remember any circum-
stances surrounding that former occasion, or occasions..

This thought took me back to “first principles,” as I
might say. I began to worry about my state of mind
again. I looked into the faces of people whom I passed,
half hoping to see some familiar visage that would spur
my memory, or that somebody who knew me would stop
and speak. But neither of these wished-for happenings
occurred.

So I strolled on as far as Forty-second Street, turning
east at that point, and passing through to the Grand Cen-
tral Station. Picking my way over the subway construc-
tion débris I entered the waiting room to rest a bit before
returning to my hotel. i

And there a great temptation assailed me. With all
this money in my possession I could go where I liked.
If I discovered my people, or learned who I really was, |
might find that this fortune was not really mine.

Who was this person who had written to me to meet
the San Logo when she came in, and “bring the ten thou-
sand with me”? Perhaps the writer of that was the real
owner of the money.

I felt as though I had no ties just then—neither of
a family or a moral nature. Here I was at the railroad
station, with a dozen trains going out of New York every
hour. Why not take one and go—somewhere, it did not
much matter where?

You see, it never crossed my mind at the moment that
I might find great trouble in exchanging those thousand-
dollar bills for currency which could be more easily spent.
The ordinary person, with a thousand-dollar bill in his
possession, might starve to death before he could get it -
changed, unless he was willing to run ‘serious risk of |
being arrested, and forced to explain how he came into
possession of a bank note of such large denomination.

But the idea of getting away with all this money, |
must admit, appealed to me. I jumped up at last, and
went out of the waiting room to the long platform where

- Lcould see the trains. I had not gone so far as to think of

purchasing a ticket, but I wished to walk up and down

there, and see the trains themselves. ;

I paid little attention to the other people on the con-
course; but I did happen to notice two ladies—rather, a
lady and a girl of fewer than my own years—pacing
the platform likewise. Indeed, I ran into them in coming
through the waiting-room doorway, and had occasion

 
 

30

 

to glance at the girl twice, for a prettier one I declare I

never saw. '
‘Her companion was something of a Tartar, however,

and seowled at my awkwardness in a disagreeable way.

When I paced back the length of the platform, of
course, I faced them again, as they had turned at the
other end. I couldn’t help looking at the girl; her sweet
face coaxed my thoughts: from unpleasant subjects, too.
But I saw that the lady, who was elderly, vinegar-faced,
and wore a false front of jet-black hair, when her real
head covering was evidently gray, did not at all approve
of my admiring glances.

She shot me another withering look, and, pulling the
girl by the arm, turned toward the waiting room. The
girl seemed to object. They stopped'a moment near the
gates which separate the waiting-passengers from the
trains, and as they did so I saw that an engifié was back-
ing swiftly into the train\shed, on the very track opposite
which the girl and her chaperon were standing.

I don’t know what attracted my attention a second time
to the oncoming locomotive. It was one of the big
switch engines used~in the yard to shunt trains in and
out of the station, and there was nothing remarkable about
it, excepting that it seemed coming in rather swiftly. It
drew a heavy train, all the cars empty, of course, its own
tender being nearest the concourse as it slid down the
long baggage platform.

Suddenly I heard a yell from up the track. Every-
body near glanced through the gates, but few realized what
was the matter. I saw one man—the fireman—leap from

the approaching engine, and he and other of the train-—

men scattered like a flock of scared sheep.

The engine shot down toward us at a speed reaching
nearly twenty miles an hour, [ should judge; and I saw
that she gave no sign of stopping. Something was the
matter. The air brake, or some other part of the mechan-
ism, had failed to work, and the helpless locomotive was
being pushed on “toward the buffer and the gates beyond,
by the weight of the long train.

Several people on the concourse shouted, and some ran.
But that old lady with the false front grabbed her charge

with a shrill scream, and stood trembling right in the~

path of the charging train!

The next instant the tender of the locomotive struck
the buffer with a crash that shook the building. The great
mass of braced timber and iron was sheared off close
to the cement floor, and although the tender of the engine
was doubled up like a pasteboard box, it was forced
on over the wreckage and through the gates.

I woke up from my trance in season to make a spring
for the two women. I seized them both by the shoulder,
and drove them before me as the gates crashed down
about us. ;

When the woman found her feet under her she dropped
her companion’s arm and ran like a scared rabbit, but a
flying bit of timber knocked both the girl and myself
down. However, we were neither much hurt, and be-
fore the railroad employees and policemen reached us
we were on our feet again.

“Qh, dear! where is auntie?” gasped my comrade in
misfortune.

I could see “auntie” returning in haste, now that the
danger was over, and I assured her that her elderly friend
was safe. The locomotive had plowed its way some dis-
tance into the cement, and there seemed a good deal of

BILL STORIES.

THE BUFFALO

saw them start in my direction.

wreckage about. The crowd pressed upon us, but with
the aid of a policeman I got my young lady out to her
aunt.

“Oh, Amy! I thought we were both to be crushed!”
gasped she, seizing her young charge. eee

“I believe I should have been had it not been for this
gentleman,’ declared the girl, smiling for the first time,
and looking into my face, which [ felt was dyed a beauti-
ful scarlet. “I am ever and ever so much obliged to you,
sir,’ and she gave me her hand.

But the old lady put up her lorgnette, and her stare
chilled me quite. “Ah—yes,” she drawled.
worthy young man, I have no doubt. Let him call upon
your father, Amy.”

It was a question who had the rosiest face just then,
the girl or me. And how her eyes did flash!

“Please give me your card,” she whispered. “TI do not
intend to insult you, but I would dearly love to know
your name—you are so brave.”

All the time the old woman was tugging at her sleeve
to get her away. I saw a police officer descending upon
us, too, and further complications impended. So, with-
out a second thought, I drew one of the cards engraved
pee Bryson” from my wallet and tucked it into her

and.

As I lifted my hat and began to wriggle through the

_crowd, I observed the girl glance quickly at the name,

and then her facechanged suddenly. She looked after
me, opened her lips as though to speak, and then dis-
played the card to her aunt.

I was already some distance away, but I could see
their faces. Amazement evidently held both ladies; I
There was something
about the name that surprised them, and this fact not
only startled, but frightened me.

Forgetting that there might be my chance to learn some-
thing about my identity, I quickened my steps and got
out of the station in a hurry. You see, the ten thou-
sand dollars in my pocket burned my conscience. I was
thinking of that then, net of my unfortunate mental con-
dition.

CHAR IER NW,
THE END OF ONE CLEW.

But when I got well away from the railway station,
and feared no longer pursuit, I figuratively shook myself
and took a plain look at the situation. —

AS sure as I’m alive, I have all the earmarks of a
first-class second-story man!” I muttered. “What's the
matter with my moral attitude? Would I really try to
keep this money if I was sure it did not belong to me,
and could find the owner ?”

It was a serious question. I had run away from those

people because I feared that they knew something about

the contents of that safety-deposit box ; when, on the other
hand, they might have been able to tell me about myself.
“Come, I can’t afford to be a thief!” I thought. “If
I should run away with this money I might never learn
who I really am, or about my folks. I can’t afford to
be so foolish.” aS
Yet the packet of bank notes fairly seemed to burn in
my pocket. I felt that they were not really mine, whether
my name was George Bryson or not.
_ “The best thing I can do,” I told myself, “is to find
out about this steamship, the San Logd, learn if*she is
really due on Friday, and find her dock. Then I shall be

Quite 2 7

SS = = = PE a 4

 
     

 

   
 
 

 
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  

 
  

  
   
  

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® pursued.
_ Wouldn’t care to know her.”
I had walked west after leaving the station, and ab |

THE BUFFALO

prepared to meet the person who wrote that letter.” But
| sighed at the thought of giving up the ten thousand. .

Sh just wonder who that girl and her aunt were?” I
“She was pretty ; but her aunt was a terror!

Sixth Avenue noticed the elevated road. It would take
me downtown more quickly, and 1 seemed to know that

| the steamship offices were all in lower Broadway. But

I did not know whigh station to get out at, and rode clear
to the Battery, leaving the train with the others passengers
at the South Ferry.

I learned from the guard that I would have to walk
back some distance to Bowling Green, and set out, mean-
ing to inquire in the steamship offices until'Il found the
right line. But the sparkle of the water attracted me
and I walked along the mall at the edge of the park.

There, right beside me, I saw the very sign I wanted:
“Ship News Office.” I went in and inquired for the San
Logo. A pleasant enough fellow—newspaper man, I
guess he was—helped me out.

She belongs tothe Pw Blane: she’ Sa truiterer,
he said. “Passengers? Oh, yes; all those fruit boats

carry passengers, and mighty comfortable cabins and

rooms they have, too.

Ehe Son Logo,”
be in Friday.
Bast Rivers’
how to find it.

Well, so much for so much! J had found that there
really was a steamship named the Saw Logo, and she was.
expected in from Bluefields on Friday. That memoran-
dum in my pocket was a most valuable sue if I wished
to meet people who knew me.

But as [| walked uptown through the ever-increasing
crowd of home-going folks, 1 suddenly came to a street
sign that held my attention, It was on this street 1 must
have bought my present headgear, and I whipped off the
hat and glanced at the stamp on the leather.

“Tl go there,’ I thought, “‘and see if they remember
anything about. ‘the sale of this hat, or if I left my old
hat when I made the purchase. But, suppose I did not
make the purchase myself?”

This last thought rather dragged my steps along the
street. I shrank now from allowing anybody to suspect
my. condition of mind quite as much as when I first real-
ized it that forenoon on the bench in Union Square.

Nevertheless, now that I was so near, and the chance
seemed so favorable, 1 was determined to learn what I
could. Why, right in that hat store might be an explana-
tion of this whole mystery that had gripped me! I couldn't
afford to let the opportunity slip. :

I found the number and went in. The instant I en-
tered a-clerk came forward. He glanced twice at me,
and bowed and smiled. I thought he seemed to recognize

he referred to a printed list, ‘will
She docks at the company’s pier on the
He told me the number of the pier, and

me; at least, he did the hat.

“Good efening |” he said, rubbing his hands. “I hope
de hat wass all ridt, eh? Can I show you anyding else
to-night?”

_ “Oh, the hat’s all right,” I said.

“Now I tell you, shentlemans, it vas a pargain ! he ex-
claimed, with enthusiasm.

“TI wasn’t quite sure of the place,” I said.

“Oh, yes! dis is id, sir. I soldt you de hat myself.”
He took it off, dented it a little more carefully, and set it
on we head: again with professional pride.

BILL STORIES, 31

\

“See here,”’ I said, in some desperation, ‘‘did I leave my
old hat here?”

“Your oldt hat?” he exclaimed, looking at me in sur-
prise. “Why, dot cap wass no goot. You dell me your-
self to Crow it away: a

“That's all right.

 

But | eid to see if there was any

mark inside of it.”

“Oh, I see! You dell me you lose your own hat. vou
tink you findt de man what owns dat cap, an’ he get
yours, ain’t it? Goot! Vait one moment.”

He trotted to the rear of the store, and quickly returned
with a disreputable bicycle cap. No wonder I hurried to.
exchange it for a new hat. And there wasn’t even a
maker’s mark in the thing.

“T tink I toldt you so dis morning, shentlemans,”’ de-
clared the clerk. “You nefer see your odder hat again,’
and he shrugged his shoulders.

“T’m afraid not. I’m much obliged to you.”
and walked out.
That clew had come to naught. I must have been in my
right mind when I bought my new hat early that morn-
ing. I could have told then how I lost my own hat,
how I came across that old cap, and what it all meant. |
But not a flicker of SOY helped me now regarding

these things,

I bought another paper to read as I went uptown in
the Broadway car. There was more about the chap in
the hospital who didn’t know his name or anything about

I turned

himself.

The doctors explained the difficulty in this way: A
strain of overwork, of too much concentrated thinking, a
sudden shock, or a combination of all these, had produced
this state of mind which they called a phase of amnesia.
A blood clot had formed upon a certain portion of the
brain, and not until that clot moved on would the young
man be able to remember his past life.

I read the whole article now in deep interest, and with
much anxiety. I was sure that this much-bruited case
was similar to my own.

There was the fellow’s picture, and the picture of his
room in the hospital, and the photograph of the doctor
who had taken him especially under his care, and all the
Test,

The poor chap! if ever he got out of his difficulty, and
knew who he really was again, he’d be notorious for the
rest of his life.

But he had been penniless and starving, so he had
been obliged to apply to the authorities for help. I
needn't do that, and from what | read regarding his case,
1 judged that medical treatment could do little for either
him or me.

Simply they were watching him so as to study the case.
I did not wish to be a subject for hospital experiment.

“Some, day,” the newspaper said, “this blood clot will
move on, and the man will assume his old identity, and
know all about ‘himself. Very likely, when that occurs,
he will forget much, or all, of his present existence.”

And that change might come as suddenly as the first
shock. But when? I had passed but twelve hours in
this maze of doubt, and 1 must confess I felt no nearer
remembering my past life than I had in the beginning.

But the responsibility of the contents of that safety-
deposit box, and the other discoveries I had made, weighed
upon my mind, and took my attention from the mere
fact of my being like an abandoned ship in mid-ocean.

When I arrived at the hotel at Twentieth Street,

 
a

THE BUFFALO

oe

my first act after reaching my room was to seal the packet
of ten thousand-dollar bills carefully in brown paper—

‘I bought the sealing. wax as I came in—and writing.

my name upon it.plainly, I-took it down to the desk, and
saw it locked into the hotel safe. Then I went to dinner
with a relieved mind. ~

During the meal a conversation at a neighboring table
attracted my attention in just one particular. One man
was. telling another something, when his friend asked:
“Well, why didn’t you look him up in the-directory ?”

_ “By Jove! I never thought of that!” declared the other,
and I was quite as astonished as he appeared to be. I
dropped my knife and fork, and thought of it.

The directory! Of course. Why not look up the
Bryson family in the city directory, and see if I could
not “discover” myself in that way? Why, it was so simple
that I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of it be-
fore.

I had proved to my own satisfaction that I was more
or less familiar with New York—certain parts of it, at
least. I might not be a resident of the city, but I must
have been here on more than one occasion before this
present time: :

“Like enough I’ve got relatives here. I may have been
visiting them, or coming to visit them, when this thing
happened to me. It’s me for the directory,’ and when I
had finished dinner I hastened into the office, borrowed
the book, took it to a table, and turned up the list of
Brysons.

There was a goodly assortment of them, but when I
counted up and found that they numbered just thirteen,
besides the “Bryson Day Nursery” and the “Bryson Li-
brary,” it seemed a bit uncanny. The Brysons seemed
a decent sort of folk, however; one was a cook, another a
woman physician, one a plasterer, another a painter. They
were, in fact, in the common walks of life, and it did
not strike me at the time that I could belong to any of
these Brysons and rightfully own the contents of that
safety-deposit box!

But I wrote off the list, determined to look them up
the next day. Then, thoroughly exhausted in both mind

and body, I went upstairs and retired. And despite the -

pressure on my mind, and the uncertainty of my condition,
I slept soundly.
TO BE CONTINUED,
ee oe
MEANING OF WAMPUN.

In reading the early history of our country we hear
a great deal of wampum, which is generally referred
to as an Indian currency, consisting of cylindrical white,
blue, or black beads, made from certain parts of sea
shells. The shores of Long Island abounded in these
shells, and the Narragansett Indians were always well
supplied with wampum. The settlers at Plymouth learned
its use and value from the Dutch, at Manhattan, and
found it profitable in trade with the Eastern Indians, for
the shells of which it was made were not common north
of Cape Cod.
_ The early settlers of New England and New York did
not, however, fully understand what wampum really
meant to the Indians. The latter valued it, not because
it represented money, but because it had a varied cere-
monial significance. ;

Belts and ‘strings were used for many purposes for
which civilized people use writing—to make treaties, to

BILL STORIES.

declare war, to confirm peace, and to convey information
of various kinds, when sent by messengers from tribe to
tribe. Researches among the descendants of the Iroquois
have shown that this race assisted and preserved oral tra-
dition by the use of picture writing, and the Peruvians
by their wampum, just as the Aztecs did by their
quipus. ES :

Each of the articles of which the belt was composed
had a special meaning, and the entire belt could be as
connectedly read by the instructed savage as we can read
the printed page of book or newspaper. |

The descendants of the Iroquois have a number of
curious wampums, which tell the story of early wars
among the tribes and with the whites. Of course, these
events have been recorded by white settlers, and therefore

_the wampums in question have not much historical value.

But in the expedition of Sullivan among the Iroquois
villages of 1709, there was a wampum destroyed which
carried the history of the Iroquois confederacy back to
forty years before the discovery of America.

The lost wampum was imperfectly duplicated after-
ward, and fragments of it were read by the great Chief
Cornplaster. This secondary wampum has also disap-
peared. If those pre-Columbian records could be re-
covered and read, they would ~have an almost priceless
historical value.

“THE INCONSTANT MOON.”

It is good luck to see the new moon over the right
shoulder.

When the new moon happens on a Saturday there will
be bad weather for a month.

If pork wastes in cooking it does so because the pig
had been killed during the moon’s decrease.

The moon influences “looniness.” ‘Tf the lucid inter-
vals of persons periodically insane terminate at the be-
ginning of a new moon it simply proves that their course
is run out.

If an Irishman finds the moon looking over his right
shoulder he immediately puts a hand where he keeps his
money and’ turns it quickly. According to the legend
everything wasted on earth is treasured in the moon—
broken vows and unanswered prayers, unfulfilled wishes
and intentions, misspent time and money—and your
sheckels might wish to join the majority if you permit
the moon to see them. Turning them over not only
makes them stay with you, but bespeaks their increase.

Yet the latter charm won’t work if the pocket holds no
silver. Pennies, it seems, do not interest the moon.

_ Whether she is interested in paper money no one knows

--there was no paper money when the superstition was
invented, but the Irish turn their greenbacks just the
same.

In England, as well as in America and other countries,
it is believed by many that a haircut when the moon is
full, or about to be full, promotes the hair’s growth, and
that after that it grows quicker and longer than before.
Superstitious girls in Russia are often seen on crossroads
during moonlit nights cutting off the tips of their braids,
and singing “As you grow old, moon, oh, let my hair
grow in the same proportion,” :

Bohemian mothers are careful not to let their babies
be seen by the moon, as the child “will become as pale
as the moon and die a slow death.” The baby’s. bed-
room is closed against moonshine by shutters and curtains.

 
 
 

 

L STORI

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures

of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are.

weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.
Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to

know all there is to know about him.

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

You can have your news-dealer
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in
money or postage-stamps.

We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print.

319—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
324— Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329—Buftalo
330—Buffalo
331—Butffalo
332—Buftalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buffalo
335—Buffalo
336—Buffalo
337—Buffalo
338—Butfalo
339—Butffalo
340—Buffalo
341—Buffalo
342—Buffalo
343—Buffalo
344—Buffalo
345—Buffalo
346—Buffalo
348—Buffalo
349—Buftalo
350—Buffalo
35 1—Buffalo
352—Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354— Buffalo
355—Buffalo
356—Buffalo
357—Buffalo
358—Buffalo
°359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
362—Buffalo
363—Buffalo
364—Buffalo
366—Buffalo
367—Buffalo
368—Buffalo
369—Buffalo
370—Buffalo
371—Buffalo
372—Buffalo
374—Buffalo
375—Buffalo
377—Buftalo
378—Buffalo
379—Buffalo
880—Buffalo
381—Buffalo
3882—Buffalo
383—Butffalo
384—Buffalo
385—Buffalo
386—Buffalo
3887—Buffalo
388—Buffalo
389—Butftalo
390—Buffalo
391—Buffalo
392—Buffalo
393—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buffalo
396—Buffalo
397—Buffalo
398—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Butffalo
401—Buffalo

Tf you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer,

from this office. Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

Bill’s Mazeppa Ride........ 5
Bills Gypsy (Band. .san0. 2. 5
Bill’’s Gold Hunters......... 5
Bill in Old Mexico.......... 5
Bill’s Message from the Dead 5
Bill and the Wolf-master.... 5
Bill’s Flying Wonder........ 5
Bill’s Hidden Gold..........
Jes) Ohotelenye. Vieni eae oo <
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and the Mad Marauder. .
Bills tee Barmbicaderncwe . 5.
Bill and the Robber Elk.....
Bill’s Ghost Danece..........
Bill’s Peace-pipe... 3.6.2...
Bill’s Red Nemesis..........
Bills Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bil eP ays ws urcakiguicr ciscnec. s
Bill on Detached Duty......
IBLE SieA MENT V SEOL Yi c sns. ee oe
Bills Surprises Party... .. .
BUlSeGreadcoinide: want ce
BUS Wraberamuradl. cisere tis ce
Bills Ordeal Ob shire... 2h... sks
Bill’s Casket of Pearls.....
DB UES SS Kye WRlOt acs cbe sic sacs dete
BUR Se BS MO Reractsin Gotan ce
Biles: Mat-boate Pritt... cn. .
BIMBON AWE CK aitetes aces ses 5
Bill and the Broncho Buster.
Bill’s Great Round-up....... 5
Bills: sPlEdeek eee. oe eee
Bilsu Cowboys and. 21ers wa
Bill and the Hmigrants.....
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s Four-footed Pards.....
Bilis: SBEOUCgSE sack rong wicrsicre es
BiG SICK AUP ie siete ee este ale es
Bills FQUGs tse. 2k erate ois 5
Bill’s Waif of the Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons....
BIS GVA SISGAIlN Cer aera ee are
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail..... 5
Bill and the Slave-dealers...
BUS TS EROM Se eAM Mates.) 3 tec) aire
Bries (Girl sbancyicus sisccie ower.
Bill’s Iron Bracelets........
Bill’s Jade Amulet... :.. Bhs
Bills Magic arias. oo.
Bills Bridge Ot Hitter...) . 1. os 5
Bilis BOWAes .oeaeoaters oe ee
WTS VR AV SULA Kineseleg te «ies
Bill’s Mine A

IBIS Clean-Uipr «ticle wieced onsen
Bills Ruse... 3... aes erator eee sot
Bill Overboard scsen re ho.
Bill’s Ring

Bults Bio w@ontracteer ve...
Bill and Calamity Jane.....
Bills heidiebamdisee. ccc. 5
Bill’’s Desperate Plight......
Bill’s Fearless Stand........ 5
Bill and the Yelping Crew...
Bill’s Guiding Hand
Bill'svQueer<@uest 3.2.0...
Bill’s Prize ‘‘Get-away’”’.....
Bill’s Hurricane Hustle.....
UES) Stenicnebylaiyiceets or) ee. seu crate),
PES a UUiee sa ne. Mreiscs 5
IBHUUPS. MM Olehdsia 45 6 oto 6S Siete)
Bill’s Dutch Pard.. Beeston
Billbandothessbravorscc csc. 5
Bill and they Quakers 3. hi 6.. ©)
Bill’s Package of Death..... 5

 

402—Buffalo
403—Buffalo
404—-Buffalo
405—Buftalo
406—Buffalo
407—Buftalo
408—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—Buffalo
411—Buffalo
412—Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—Buffalo
415—Butffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Butffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Butfalo
421—Buffalo
422—Buffalo
423—Buffalo
424—Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
427—Buffalo
428—Buffalo
429—Buffalo
4380—Butffalo
431—Butffalo
432—Buftalo
433—Buffalo
434—Buffalo
435—Buffalo
436—Buffalo
437—Buftfalo
438—Buftalo
439—Buftalo
440—Buffalo
441—Buffalo
442—Buffalo
443—Buffalo
444—_Buffalo
445—Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Buftfalo
448 Buffalo
449—Buffalo
450—Buffalo
451—Buffalo

Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
BilltsaPrivatey Waters. oe 16
Bill and the Trouble Hunter.
Bill and the Rope Wizard...
IBIPRSUSN TES ta. sym coe erases scr 5
Bill Among the Cheyennes..
Bill Besieged

Bill and the Red Hand.....
Bill’s Tree-trunk Drift......
Bill and the Specter........ 5
Bill and the Red Feathers..
Billise kee Stroke sagen ctences 5
Bill, the Desert Cyclone.....
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts....... 5
Bill and the Man-wolf......
Bill and His Winged Pard...
Bill@at: Babylon Barns. .cen 5
ADT MS) One PAM eon ves eters oee
Bill’s Steel Arm Pard.......
Bill’s Aztec Guide.......... 5
Bill and: hittle Miretiy <0
Bill in: the Aztee City.......
Bill’s Balloon Hscape.......
Bill and the Guerrillas......
Bills SB ORGEIWWIAT: weier. smerea ene
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up....... 5
Bill and the Gamecock......
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
Bill’s Whirlwind Finish.....
Bill’s Santa Fe Secret......
Bill and the Taos Terror.... 5
Bill’s Bracelet of Gold......:
Bill and the Border Baron.. 5
Bill at Salt River Ranch....
Bill’s Panhandle Man-hunt.. &
BillMateeslossomiy baleen. 0.)
Bill and Juniper Joe.......
BUST ORM alles SCO OD teusaerers orsle i
Billgat@learweaGensnoe gers. ss
Bills Wannine  landis... . ..
Bude: Ciamehe Clalinirs yeasts seus:
Bis A Conapadese sce etesse cis
Bilin tie Badswands tnt. cs
Bill and the Boy Bugler.....
Bill and the Heathen Chinee. 5
Bill and the Chink War.....
Bills: Chimese! Chase ve... 4s.
Bills Secret Message....... 5
Bill and the Horde of Her-

mosa

452—Buffalo
453—Buffalo
454—Buffalo
455—Buffalo
456—Buffalo
457—Butffalo
458—Buffalo
459—Butffalo
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—Buffalo
474—_Buffalo
475—Buffalo
476—Buffalo

Bill’s Lonesome Trail.......
BrllsM@uariveenarac ey sctsces ss
Billie eCadiwioo dr ae cee ss e061
BATES RIM IS teeA Nua eae teas
Bill and Old Moonlight.....
Bille paler eae 5 ceeue a
BilleseaMlro wacker. ser erste ce
Bills Sicht Unseen’. 3 2.0.
TESTING Weta te era os oe
BU Sawant ede ViltClOnyac. 2...
Bill’s Pieces-of-eight........
Bill and the Hight Vaqueros.
Bill’s Unlucky NSiesta.......
Bulls Apache. Chueres sce
Bill and the Apache Totem..
Bill’s Golden Wonder.......
iUSeebesta, Nichitem... sens
Bill and the Hatchet Boys..
Bill and the Mining Shark..
Bill and the Cattle Barons...
IBAUPS) Trove (OXI, 5 b606600.08
Bill, the Peacemaker.......
BUGS LOMAS LO mee ayeeceere tes) ©
Bill’s Diamond Hitch.......
Bill and the Wheel of Fate.

CLOCOTOTOLOLOLOTOUOTOUOTOUSTO

 

477—Butffalo
478—Buftalo
479—Buffalo
481—Buftfalo
482—Buffalo
483—Buffalo
484—Buftfalo
485— Buffalo
486—Buftfalo
487—Buftalo
488—Buftalo
489—Buffalo
490—Butffalo
492—Butffalo
493—Buffalo
494—Butffalo
495—Buftalo

ers
496—Buffalo
497—Buffalo
498—Buffalo
499—Buftalo
500—Butffalo
501—Buffalo
502:-—Buffalo
503—Buffalo
504—Buffalo
505—Buffalo
506—Buffalo
507—Butffalo
508—Buffalo
509—Buftalo
510—Buffalo
511—Buffalo
512—Buffalo
513—Buffalo
514—-Buffalo
515—Buffalo
516—Buffalo
517—Buffalo
518—Buffalo
519—Buffalo
520—Buffalo

man
521—Buffalo
522—Buffalo
523—Buffalo
524—Buffalo
525—Buffalo
526—Buffalo
527—Butfalo
528—Buffalo
529—Buffalo
530—Buffalo
531—Buffalo
532—Buffalo
533—Buffalo
534—Buffalo
535—Buffalo
536—Buffalo
5387—Buffalo
588—Buftalo
539—Buftalo
540—Buffalo
541—Buffalo
542—Buffalo
5438—Buffalo
544—Buffalo
545—Buftalo
546—-Buffalo
547—Buffalo
548—Buffalo
549—Buffalo
550—Buffalo
551—Buftalo

Bill and the Pool of Mystery

These stories have been read exclusively in this

In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with

Bill and the Deserter....... 5

Bill’s Island in the Air......
BillgssWlLeImMaAabuUmMey. «ccs. 6 5

I TEBSUAIRCS tee cient ei aa coho cco obo 5

Bill and the Ponca Raiders.

Bill’’s Boldest Stroke....... 5

Billist a miemas ser. ces <s epee
BillseBlockadena.% sess. s. «
Bill and the Gilded Clique...
Bill and Perdita Reyes.....
Bill and the Boomers.......
Bik eC aulsmamrlalte src cs +.
Bill’s O. K apeusce
Bill at.Canone Diablo. ..:...
BLS Sr anniShetepemiene. occ eos las +
Bill and the Red Horse Hunt-

Bill’s Dangerous Duty......
Bill and the Chief’s Daughter
Billsat- Pinay ae Welsch oes
Bill and the Men of Mendon.
Bill at Rainbow’s Hnd......
Bill and the Russian Plot...
Biles “Red: rranelescs see csi.
Bibles ROY dle US 55.7. 6 e scene
BUN Se Abram RANG seerer. 7) «(ss ale
Bill on the Upper Missouri. .
Bills: GRow:-SCOUtS esse sie ise ae
Bill's @puun eC as este sieusiess: ses
Billsi Witehicra tte ere es sco. 6
3ill’s Mountain Foes........
Bill’s Battle Cry

Bill’s Fight for the Right...
Bi S “Barbecue. aamiets.s ck. ths,ete
Bill and the Red Renegade..
Bill and the Apache Kid....
Bill at the Copper Barriers.
BiLESY RRaAclh Crowell ea. a eas.
Bill and Chief Hawkchee....
Bill and the Indian Girl....
Biil Across the Rio Grande..
Bill and the Headless: Horse-

Bill’s Clean Sweep.........
SiS Lr AMOntt in Olswecarls': ....:
ISTEP UWeDIO BORS?. cos sos, 008 6) s
Bisa RaAOss MOLI. jsi0 2. sae)
Bill and the Pawnee Prophet
Bill and Old Wanderoo......
SU See VG ee ebIn ers a8 sc cons os
Bille andaGriazly. Dan... . 2...
Bill at Lone Tree Gap....:..
Bullas Virals or Deaths os...
BilkeatCimarnoons Baro...
Bill and the Sluice Robber...
Bill OMeMOSty IRUVEL. os sic er. s
BiUlleSA MUN GerDOlt. toni. se
re Se SUOUG WUECUSE s .coic%s 6.0 s
Billtsyesouxe phakic’. seh a...
Billi and the Talking Statue..
BillcuMedieme “rails. <5...
Bill and the Knife Wizard...
Bill and the Red Bedouins..
Bill and the Prairie Corsairs
Bilis Scarlet. Bick-up..: .
Bill’s Mental Magic......
Bill and the Lost Indian.
BINS COnGuesib seas ice <8 ©
Bill’s Waif of the West.....
Bil’s Juggle With Fate.....
Bill ands the (Basilisk. 7.5...
Bill and the Klan of Kan...
Bill and the Sorceress......
Bill in the Ute Outbreak....

CLOLOTOUON

OOH

CLOLOLOLOTOLOU OT OU OT OV OT UO OL OUOUOUOUSUOUOT

AON OULOUN

OU

NOOO OST OLN HA

MANA OOO OU OTOUOT OUST VOUT

they can be obtained direct

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

 

 

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