’ eT 2 ae : ; A ae ae Haan SATCHEL a : a oc. ee . voce Beat Sau eN Bae ae eset ; Bees = ~ a eee . : ey Se ea ans See ” . = me ane = _= = TT i da as d-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by STREET & SmiTH, 79-89 Seventh Ave, New York, Eanes Weeki, Hered O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. : Copyright, 1917, by STREET & SMITH. Terms to NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. | (Postage Free.) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, regis- tered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of you remittance is acknowledged by proper LaCie aiclelelwl Viale snes 65c. VO VEAL ..0. wecee- csvcee coeeesGae00 : 3 ee belo tacularbiepm cites «sears S3e. Dee ONCE YEAM--cesee-sseveee e 00 change of number on your label. If not corrcet you hve not been 6 MONthS..----+ eeeeee ees $1.25 1 copy two years...--.---sees0s 4.00 properly credited, and should let us know at once, Mo. 233. - NEW YORK, March BY. NGL]. Price Five Cents. DUPRPALO BILLS ENLGMs OR, PAWNEE BILL AND THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY. By the author of ‘‘BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPTER I. THE “LADIES AID.’ “The question is, sisters,” and Miss Minerva Skilo looked up froin her knitting, “are we goin’ to suffer them poor human bein’s to remain in that jail, without any friendly ministrations? Are we heathen, or-ain’t we heathen ?” “We ain’t!” declared Mrs. Perry Blazer, pinning her sewing firmly to her ‘knee. “I got it from Perry that the pris’ners have got iron manacles on their hands and feet. Imagine! Jest imagine that in a civilized country! It makes me that mortified I could almost die.” “T never heard of sich savage doin’s, honest to good- ness, I never did!” This from Mrs. Peterson, as her nimble fingers worked a bobbin in and out of a mass of tatting. “Law sakes, if anybody had ever told me I'd ’a’ married a man who’d mix up in sich barbarous proceed- in’s, I’d never have believed it.” “Tt was all that Mortimer Degard’s doin’s, Sister Peter- son,” remarked Mrs. Herrick. “Indeed and it was!” affirmed Mrs. Dolliver. “I got the whole of it from Derry. It. was Mort Degard who suggested offerin’ five thousand dollars reward for the capture of Ponca Dave, in the first place. I’m not blam- ing Buffalo Bill, Ponca Bill, and the rest for capturing ‘ Ponca Dave, nor for capturing Black Salvadore and sav- ing Mortimer Degard; but, sisters, that five thousand dollars would have done a lot of good to the poor, be- nighted Zulus.” Every member of the sewing Gre drew a long Biot Miss Minerva Skilo was-knitting a pair of slippers for the Zulus; Mrs. Blazer was making a red kimono for the same poor, benighted creatures; Mrs. Peterson’s tat- ting was also to find its way into the box which the Poverty Flat. Ladies’ Aid Society was%o ship to South Africa; and all the others were engaged in work that had to do with the same misdirected philanthropy. Most .of the members of the Ladies’ Aid Society were wives of well-to-do cattlemen. These influential cattle- eet vo el as a a i I ag I Ri Mi MO men had gathered at. Pieiy Flat to deal with the ques- tion of the Ponca raiders—thieves who had harried their herds of horses and longhorns. The leaders of the gang —Ponea Dave and Black Salvadore—had been caught and placed in the Poverty Flat jail by the scout and his pards, and the members of the Ladies’ Aid Society were very much exercised over the welfare of the prisoners. _“T-never had no use for half- breeds or Injuns,” ob- served Miss Minerva Skilo, “‘although they has their place in nature and are entitled to consideration and fair treatment. This Black Salvadore is a half- breed, but just think, sisters, of stayin’ in a hot an’ stuffy jail’ with manacles on your hands an’ feet! Why, it’s a disgrace; a blot on the fair name of this town.” “Tt’s. turble!” ‘murmured Mrs. Perry Blazer. “I’ve always said—you remember, don’t you, Sister Peterson? —that Mort Degard ought to have a wife to pilot him along the road he ought to travel.” “Tye said that same thing, Sister Blazer,” Mrs. Peterson, “time and time ag’ in.’ rb move,” said Sister Herrick, “that this Aid Society Wait on those prisoners in a body and carry them some creature comforts.” “Tl take a bokay!” cried Mrs. Blazer enthusiastically, waving her hand at a bunch of wild flowers which she had gathered for the delectation of the society during the sewing bee. “That bokay will do the pris’ners more good than it will us. Why, it will give ’em a whiff of the plains, the great, free plains, which they ain’t never to roam ag’in.’ Z Mrs. ecaed arose to her feet, her face flushed with a spirit of self-sacrifice. “Sisters,” she cried, unraveling several stitches as she waved her work in one hand and her bobbin in the other, “we got two quarts of ice cream, made for us by the cook at the Spread Eagle Hotel. Suppose we take that ice cream to the poor pris’ners in their hot an’ stuffy cells!” The suggestion was received with delight. When there was a little quiet, Miss Minerva Skilo got on her feet. “Sisters,” said Miss Skilo, “I have some tracts for answered apa i ae BN Lary ey ROR RCAC es AR rok UAW AOA VACANT FP NC DPN RNC DOE ERG PN HL MBL O a Antic he Bi Rg, dh ty ie tic dies NAA A iP iB a NEW BUFFALO BR them pris’ners, too. We'll take the tracts along with the ice cream and the flowers. It was me brought up the subject of the pris’ners, and I brought it up because there came to my house this mornin’ a half-breed girl who says she’s Black Salvadore’s sister. She wanted this philan- thropic society to do somethin’ to alleviate her brother’s sad plight, and I promised the poor girl I’d bring the matter before you. She said she’d call here to find out what we’d do, if anythin’, an’ I’m expectin’ her any minit.” “T. for one,” said Mrs. Herrick, “am glad she’s com- ing. My husband always says that charity ought to begin at home, and not jump blindly into South Africa when there’s so much to be done right around Poverty Flat. I reckon Herrick won’t find any fault when he knows what we’re doing for the pris’ners.” “Will they let us into the jail?” queried Mrs, Derry Dolliver. “They will,” asserted Mrs. Peterson, “or I'll give Peter- son a talkin’ to that ‘he won’t fergit ‘in a hurry. We'll git into the jail, all right, Sister Dolliver, and——’ A rap) tell on the doer. “That’s her now,’ said Miss Minerva Skilo, hurrying to open the door. A swarthy young woman in a gingham dress and sun- bonnet, carrying a basket on her arm, entered the room. “How de do, Cactus Blossom?” cried Miss Skilo, seiz- ing the young woman’s hand. “We're goin’ to do some- thin’ for your brother—we’d jest made up our minds to it. Ladies,’. and she turned to the rest of. the society, “this here is Cactus Blossom, Black Salvadore’s. sister. She don’t live in the Flat, but. she come in to be around town while her brother’s in jail.” ; The Aid Society, carried away: by generous sentiments, flocked around Cactus Blossom and caressed and sympa- thized with her in her affliction. “Mebbeso you take Salvadore something, huh?” in- quired Cactus Blossom, greatly embarrassed by the era of good feeling into which she found herself thus .sud- denly plunged. ! “Blowers and ice eream, Cactus Blossom,’ beamed Mrs. Herrick. ‘We're going to the jail in a body and relieve the sufferings of the poor, suffering pris’ners.’’ “Good!” answered Cactus Blossom, seizing Sister Her- rick’s hand and pressing it to her lips. “How touchin’!” whispered Miss Skilo to Mrs. Perry Blazer. “Kindness ain't never throwed away,’ whispered back to Miss. Skilo. “You take ’em chuck, too, huh?” asked Cactus Blossom, diving into her basket and. pulling out a roast turkey. “Me ketch um turk for Salvadore, cook um, but the man at the jail no let Cactus Blossom give um turk to Sal- vadore.” : “Fhat man at.the jail is a brute!’ flared: Mrs. Dolliver. “You* go “long with us, Cactus Blossom, an’ [ll bet a copper cent Salvadore gits the turkey.. They won’t dare try to keep us out o’ the jail.” Cactus Blossom slumped into a chair and began to weep. “Chirk ‘up, Cactus Blossom!” urged = Mrs. “We ain’t all heathens in Poverty Flat.” The half-breed girl drew the back of her hand across her eyes and leoked up. ¥ ‘t's a heap better,’ said she plaintively, ‘if I’. don't 0. You take um turk to Salvadore, please. You. good a vel t \ “It might prejudice the keeper of the jail. agin’ us,” remarked Miss Skilo, after a period of thought, “if we take Cactus Blossom along. It’s jest as well, sisters, to let her go back where she stays, an’ we'll tote the turkey along with the ice cream and the flowers.” ° “Women aint got no rights any -more,” said: Mrs, Perry Blazer. “See how this poor thing is imposed on because she’s a half-breed; an’ for nothin’ else. . Yes, sisters,’ and she shook her clenched hands, ‘‘we’ll tote the turkey to the jail an’ we'll get it into the hands of Black Salvadore, too. My, but it’s a heavy turkey,” and. she lifted the roasted fowl and balanced it. in her hands. ts “You heap good ladies, every one!” gurgled Cactus Blossom. . ‘ ae Mrs. Blazer Peterson: ¥ BILL WEEKLY. Then she began and kissed the hand of every member of the Ladies’ Aid Society. .When this osculatory feat had been performed, she faded from the room, wiping her eyes as she went, Miss Minerva Skilo flicked away a truant tear from behind her glasses. “Doin? good to folks in distress,” said she, “is an easy thing, an’ gives a cheery feelin’ to the heart. Cactus Blossom, sisters, would lay down her life for any one of us.” : co “T wonder what’s her persuasion?” inquired Mrs. Derry Dolliver. . “T don’t reckon she has any,’ answered Mrs. Perry Blazer. “Half-breeds, like that, don’t have the advan- tages of their white sisters. Shall we start for the dane “Ves let's,” came the general response. Work was laid aside, and the eight members of the society put on their bonnets and trailed out of the room in column of twos. Mrs. Perry Blazer, with her “bokay,’ and Miss Minerva Skilo with the basket containing the roast turkey, headed the procession. Mrs. Peterson and Mrs. Herrick came next with the bucket containing the ice cream, and the others followed, smiling but determined. The procession marched down the dusty main street, watched. with awe and curiosity by the townspeople. During the march, Mrs. Herrick picked up her husband, and Mrs. Blazer picked up Blazer, and Mrs. Dolliver picked up Dolliver. On the way to the jail the situation “was explained to the cattlemen. The cattlemen objected to the performance, declaring that Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore were a pair of thieving scoundrels and deserved all the punishment that was coming to them. They demanded that the procession break up, and that the members go back to their sewing. The Aid Society wouldn’t listen, so the catthemen com- promised with the society and agreed to let them visit the jail and hand over the flowers and the turkey and the ice cream to the prisoners. It was not many hours before the three cattlemen were sorry they had “compromised.” : CHAPTER Th AN INVITATION—AND A THREAT. “Waugh! Ain’t he dazzlin’; Buffler? Fer why 1s Pawnee puttin’ on so much dog this arternoon?” The excitement attending the march of the Ladies’ Aid Society to and from the jail, had died down some- what. The townspeople were discussing. the event with: broad smiles, and on the veranda, in front of the Spread Eagle Hotel, Buffalo Bill was listening to his trapper pard on the subject of woman’s rights, mite societies, and the folly of committing matrimony and serving a life sentence for it. Abruptly old Nomad broke off his remarks along that particular line, leaned over. the veranda railing, ‘and pointed up the street. The scout, following the leveled finger with his eyes, saw Pawnee Bill cantering toward the veranda on his big buckskin, Chick Chick. The prince of the bowie was more ornamental than the scout had ever seen him before. ; He was garbed as a Mexican rico, and his trim, sinewy form had never shown to better advantage. Pawnee’s high Mexican hat had hawk’s bells jingling along the brim. The wizard had transferred his bullion band from his sombrero to the hat with the peaked crown,,.so that. with the band and the hawk’s bells, the greaser headgear had become as radiant as it -was musical. Jacket and trousers were of brown velvet, the trousers slashed, Mexican fashion, below the knee and laced with tinsel cord. Gold buttons ornamented the trousers along the outer seams, and they were caught in at the waist with gilt clasps. The jacket, gleaming with big silver buttons, opened at the front to disclose ruffles of spot- less linen. At his belt Pawnee carried his twin destroyers—.45 revolvers, whimsically known as “Tom and Jerry.” The NEW BUFFALO holsters were pushed well back toward either hip. Out of a scabbard in front peeped the gold handle of Ta- koon-wan- -kan, the famous Price knife, of which Pawnee Bill was prince and master. Half covering the belt, fluted with cartridges, crown sash.of heavy silk. Slung in its case under the right stirrup leather was the eight-square buffalo gun called’ “Old Spitfire’ by the prince of the bowie. Chick Chick, like his master, was gay with unusual trappings, and the barbaric splendor of the spectacle, as Pawnee Bill halted with a flourish close to the veranda ee the old trapper to throw up his hands and ink, “Scoot-a-wah-boo!” laughed the prince of. the bowie. “How’s this for a show, pards?” “Et’s-some blindin’ ter the eyes, 17? Pawnee,” answered > Nomad. . “Whyever. hev ye ‘done et, compadre? An’ whar aire ye headin’ in all yore dazzlin’ splendor?” “That's what TV’'d like to know, compadre,” laughed the scout. ‘What’s your excuse 2” “Well,” chuckled Pawnee Bill, ‘I’ve sworn by my ‘medi- cine’ to cut a splurge at the greaser baile over toward Adobe Walls this evening.” “Baile?” echoed old Nomad. “I’m some partial ter bailes myself. Whyever didn’t ye tell me erbout this un, Pawnee, so’st the baron an’ me could hev trailed erlong with ye? Ef et ain’t till night, then we got time yit.” “On-she-ma-da, pard! I’m the only one of Buffalo Bill’s pards who’s going to attend this baile.” “Why?” asked the scout, sensing a fact of importance somewhere at the back of Pawnee Bill’s head. “Because,” smiled the prince of the bowie, ‘I’ve a weakness for braiding the tail of a mule and feeling the teeth of a bobcat with my fingers.” (Mere torkin’ Siwash; amigo,” fretted, Nomad, © Put et inter plain United States, kain’t ye?” ““An-pe-tu-we !” Pawnee Bill removed his hat and fished from its crown ‘a playing card. This he handed to the scout. “Read that, necarnis,’ said he The card was the ace of clubs. was written: “If the prince of the bowie is as brave as they say, will he dare come to Sebastian’s baile to-night? Will he dare come alone? Let him outshine the other caballeros, making himself a bright mark for his foes.” The queer invitation was not signed. It was written in a feminine hand—a fact which made the veiled threat scarcely less dangerous. “T don’t like the looks of this, pard,” said the scout. “Talk-a-heapis a. fine brave,” returned Pawnee Bill sententiously, “but Do-a-heap is a better. I want to find out what’s at the bottom of that.” “And you're determined. to probe the. mystery single- handed ?” Pes “Well, Pawnee, I wish you all kinds of luck; and I have this to say: If you're not back in the Flat at sun- rise to-morrow, your pards will be looking for you in the direction of Sebastian’s.” Pawnee Bill lighted a cigar. ail circulate prominently around this fandango,” said he, “and Ill trip through a bolero with the writer of that invitation. What’s more, necarnis, I'll be back-at the Flat by sunup.” The glint in the eyes and the snap of the jaws, all went to prove the:determination of the prince of the bowie. “Who gave you that bid to the baile, Pawnee?” asked the scout. “Some one pushed it under the door of my room he- fore I got up.” He gathered in his reins. “Well, necar- nis, it’s getting along toward next sleep, and I’m going to ride easy to Sebastian’s. Adios!” “Adios!” Pawnee Bill clinked off down the street, singing as he went: Around the single pip “No me mates, no me mates, . Con pisiola ne punal; Matame con un desito, De tus labios de coral.” si ag AI Po Was ai smoking and . Sey ella Mit RIM A her A, a A ae FI, NI, Mn. derhidn hes RNMR Hn: tt BIL OWISEEK TE Ye 3 “He’s' a fine figger of. a man,.thet Pawnee pard 0’ ourn,” commented. Nomad, gazing until the flashing horse- man had faded into a pall of dust. “So he is, old pard,” answered the scout. ‘“What’s more, it will take more than a handful of greasers to entangle him in a kibosh of any proportions. But II be glad to see him back here in the morning.” Jeff Holloway, proprietor of the Spread Eagle Hotel, appeared on the porch with a face that expressed great dejection. “Ye know that turkey I had cooped up back o’ the hotel, Buffalo Bill?” he asked. “The bird I got from Pocotone. ’specially for a-Sunday dinner for you an’ one pards?” “Ves, Jeff”’:answered-the scout. “What of it?” “Why, when the chink cook went out ter feed that thar turkey, an hour ago, the turkey wasn’t thar. Some- body has made off with the bird. Wouldn’t that rattle your spurs? I feel a heap more worked up about that thar turkey, friend, than if some un had rifled the hotel till o’ fifty plunks.” “Don’t fret about the turkey, Jeff,” laughed the scout. “We'll put up with canned stuff for our Sunday dinner.” ‘Near as I kin. find out,” went on Holloway, “the bird must ’a’ been took last night. The chink had orders to feed an’ water the bird twicet a day, but ye kain’t depend on chinks ter do nothin’. I'd got my heart sot on dishin’ that turkey up ter you an’ the Cochise cattlemen, next Sunday, makin’ a spread that ’u’d lay over anythin’ that was ever dished up in these parts. Now Just then the Chinese waiter came out of the hotel and blew a blast on a tin trumpet. “We'll go in to“supper,” said the scout, rising, “and try to forget all about the turkey.” ‘ “Turkey ain’t in et with jerked beef nohow,” averred the trapper. Following supper, the scout and his pards, Nomad, the baron, and Little Cayuse, whiled away a few evening hours on the hotel veranda. The baron was very much cast down because Pawnee Bill had gone off to the baile without taking any of his friends with him. “T like to tance pedder as I can tell,’ said the baron, “und dose Mexican tances vas fine, yah, I bed you. Dere iss a guitar vat makes der moosic, und vile it goes blink- blink- blinkety- blink den you cut some capers mit your- selut. Ach it iss: nine!” 2 “An’ then, when ye ain’t lookin’,’ put in the trapper, “some greaser reaches after ye from behind, with a dirk. Waugh! Yes, baron, et shore is fine.” “Anyvays,” went on the baron, “I wish like anyt’ing dot Pawnee hat asked me to go along mit him. Aber it can’t be heluped now, so it makes no never minds.” “Thet’s. the sperrit, baron,” approved the old trapper. “When ye kain’t help'a thing, then make the most o’ et.” “Did you hear vat der Laties’ Ait Sociedy dit py der chail?” inquired the baron, lapsing into the town gossip. “Dey took some flowers, und a roast durkey, und ,some ice cream to dose raiter fellers. Vat a foolishness.” “Roast turkey?” inquired the scout, getting up and knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “Yah, so.” “Wonder where the Ladies’ Aid Perey got the roast turkey ?” ‘Nopody knows dot.” The scout went up to bed. Turkeys were scarce in Poverty Flat—so scarce that Jeff Holloway had to send to Pocotone after the one he had been intending to serve for Sunday dinner. Had the Ladies’ Aid Society sent to Pocotone after a turkey for Ponce Dave and Black Salvadore? Perhaps there was no connection between the loss of Jeff Holloway’s turkey and this donation made by the Aid Society to the prisoners in the jail, but this double deal in turkeys. had a curious look. The scout went to bed and slept for several hours. When he awoke, he sat up in bed with a start. The windows of the hotel were rattling and the echoes of an explosion were dying away in the town. Something had happened—but what? A dead silence followed the last, shivering echo; then an excited voice was heard yelling in the main street, ”? a NEW BUFFALO Leaping from his bed, Buffalo Bill rushed to a window and threw it open. : “Hello, there!” he shouted, at the top of his voice. “What’s happened ?” “Tail’s blowed up!” answered the wild voice from the street; “pris’ners hev hiked! Wouldn’t this knock ye slab-sided? Whoop-ya!. Whoop-ya!” and away went the frantic townsman, howling the alarm at the top of his voice. CHAPTER TL TURKEY WITH BOMB DRESSING. Buffalo Bill was astounded. His astonishment, how- ever, did not prevent him from beginning a hurried scramble into his clothes. ‘ Ponca Dave, leader of the red raiders, had been cap- tured by the scout and his pards, and for this work the Cochise cattlemen had paid over a reward of five thou- sand dollars in gold. This reward the pards had re- quested the cattlemen to give, as a wedding present, to Mrs. Morey, a young lady who had been caught in the tangle of events that had resulted in Ponca Dave’s cap- ture. Later, and while Ponca Dave was in the Poverty Flat jail, Black Salvadore, his Heutenant, had made a pris- oner of Mortimer Degard, president of the Cattlemen’s Association, and had sent word to the Flat that the price of Degard’s life was the liberty of Ponca Dave. It was history, now, how the pards had laid hold of this fresh complication, and had not only released Degard, but also captured Salvadore.* To have all this work set aside by a sudden and myste- rious jail delivery was enough to arouse the scout to the highest pitch. : The hotel awoke to life as he hurriedly dressed, and a growing clamor of excited voices came from the street. As he ran out of his room, buckling on his revolvers as he went, the scout encountered Nomad. “Et ain’t possible, is et, Buffler,” demanded the trap- per, “thet Ponca Dave an’ Black Salvadore hev busted out o’ ther jail?” “That's what I hear, pard,” the scout answered. “Get into the rest of your clothes and follow me to the lockup.” The office of the hotel was full of people. As fast as one detachment would race away in the direction of the jail, another detachment would drop in and ask for news. “What’s the latest, Jeff?” asked the scout of the half- clad proprietor. Holloway was talking with two men who had just come down from upstairs. “Ye kin hear almost anythin’, Buffalo Bill,” answered Holloway, “but I reckon about all ye kin believe is that the jail has been blowed up, an’ that them two raiders hev pulled the pin on law an’ order an’ taken to the open.” Just at this moment a bareheaded man in his shirt sleeves rushed into the office from the street. “Whar’s Buffler Bill?” he whooped. “Here,” answered the scout, stepping forward. The man was Jim Presidio, and the scout recognized him as a deputy sheriff. “Dick Oberlee wants Presidio. He whirled and dashed out through the door again, the scout running along at his side. “Tt’s the queerest thing I ever heerd of,” panted Pre- sidio, as he and the scout made their way at a run through the noisy street. “Ponca Dave an’ Black Salvadore blowed a hole in the side o’ the jail an’ walked clear.” “They got away?” “Oberlee has sent riders arter ‘em; an’ as soon as any one shows up with a hoss, he keeps sendin’ ’em. But it’s a cinch that, if them raiders was able ter git out o’ jail, they’ve got sense enough ter avoid bein’ ketched.” jue were in double irons, weren’t they?” es: ye at the jail, hotfoot,’ said *See No. 237 of the New BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY, “Buffalo Bill’s Boldest Stroke; or, Pawnee Bill’s Reata Dance.” BILL WEEKLY. “Then that explosion couldn’t have knocked the irons off their hands and feet. How did they get rid of the nacles?” Chad savvies that, or anythin’ else. Dick Oberlee’s about locoed with it all—that’s why he sent fer you. ‘He reckons that if you kain’t figger this out that no one kin,” By then the scout and Presidio were at the jail. Lan- terns and torches were weaving fiery lines through the gloom under the jail walls, and loud and excited talk was heard in all directions. s : The jail was an adobe structure, with thick walls. It was only one story in height, and the part occupied by | the cells was reénforced with a boiler-plate lining. “This way,” said Presidio, and led the scout to the south side of the structure. Here a large crowd was gathered, and foremost among the crowd was! Dick Oberlee, the sheriff. The many lights struck on the sheriff’s haggard but determined face as he turned toward the approaching scout. “Cody!” exclaimed Oberlee; “you're the man I’m wait- ing for. What do you think of this?” He waved a hand at the breach in the shattered wall. A tremendous explosion must have caused that breach, for a big section of the solid wall had been thrown down and outward. The gap ran from foundation to roof, and the roof itself sagged over the rent. “Tt took a big explosion to do that,” remarked the scout, after passing his eyes over the yawning hole. “Sure!” answered Oberlee. “And what caused the ex- plosion? How were the prisoners, double ironed as | kept them, able to engineer such a blow-up?” “Tet’s go inside,” said the scout, “and around.” . After ordering the rest of the crowd to keep back, the sheriff followed the scout over the debris of the wall, and in through the dark gap. The sheriff carried a lantern. The outer wall of one cell had been blown away, and the boiler plate had been torn like tissue paper. “This was Black Salvadore’s cell,” explained the sheriff, “and the next one, there, was Ponca Dave's. Each of the raiders was kept by himself, and each had on ankle and wrist irons.” C “Ponca Dave must have come into this cell in order to get out.” “Here’s how he came.” Oberlee waved the lantern in front of the bars that divided the two cells. Three of the bars had been cut away near the floor, leaving an opening through which a man could crawl. “They were sawed or filed,” said the scout, passing his fingers over the ends of the severed bars. “But what with?” cried the demoralized _ sheriff. “Where’d the prisoners get their tools to work with? Where'd they get their powder for the explosion? How’d they get rid of their manacles?” “If they had tools for cutting the bars, Oberlee,” an- swered the scout, “then the same tools would have helped them to get out of their leg and wrist irons.” “Tt wast) possible!) t-— 4? “We've got to take things as we find them,” interrupted the scout. “It must have been possible, you see, because it actually happened.” Taking the lantern from Oberlee’s hand, the scout swung it around se as to give him a good view of the three remaining barred walls. “The entire force of that explosion seems to have ex- erted itself outward,’ he remarked. “The bars in the side and front walls don’t show any signs of having been wrenched by the blow-up.” “Some one was hurt, anyhow,” said the sheriff. “Hold the lantern here a minute, Cody.” The scout dropped the light over the place indicated ee sheriff and found a red stain on the floor of the cell. “It’s a wonder,” commented the scout grimly, “that Black Salvadore wasn’t wiped out .entirely, instead of merely wounded. The nerve of a man, staying in this small; barred room while a charge of powder, as power- ful as that must have been, was set off. But maybe he didn’t stay in the room.” take a look NEW BUFFALO “He had to stay in the cell!” declared the excited sheriff. “Not necessarily, came from tie scout. “He could have crawled into Ponca Dave’s cell just before the blast let go. A piece of débris, flying between the bars, may have struck either Ponca Dave or Salvadore. Ah!” he finished abruptly, “what’s this?” His foot had kicked against an object that clattered onthe cell floor. Picking the object up, he discovered that it was a diminutive steel saw with a folding handle. A further search revealed a three-cornered file, badly worn, a small piece of copper, and the half of a pair of handcuffs. While the scout was gathering these mementos, Oberlee had picked up the carcass of the roast turkey, some more stray pieces of manacles, and another badly worn. file. “The explosion was caused by a+ bomb, scout. “Somebody set it off outside the wall, the sheriff. : “No, Oberlee, it was set off from inside. blown outward, and that proves that the explosion came from within the jail. It was a copper bomb—here’s a piece of it—and evidently it was homemade. This small hack saw and the files were the tools used’ for getting rid of the manacles and cutting the bars between the. cells. Are there any other prisoners in the jail, Oberlee?” “One more—Job Hickley, the bullion thief from. the Montezuma district. He’s safe, though, and hadn’t any hand in the game the raiders worked.” “Who was on guard?’ “Jim was-in the front office. We've both been camp- ing out in the jail since these raiders have been here, but IT went over home about eleven o’clock. What gets me is where all those tools and the bomb came from. Not a thing got to the prisoners without being looked over by ita or me, and nobody was allowed to visit the men, or talk with ‘em. I was mighty careful about that, for Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore were slippery propo- sitions.” “Well, the bomb and the tools got to them somehow, and———” A laugh came from across the corridor, “I got some o’ the ice cream:an’ a leg o’ the turkey,” called a husky voice, “so I reckon I hadn't ort ter tell, but it was that Ladies’ Aid outfit as helped the raiders turn the trick.” “The Ladies’ Aid Society, Hickley.?”” answered Ober- lee, opening the cell door and stepping through into the corridor. “That’s all foolishness, man!” “Nary, it ain't!” chuckled Hickley. “That. turkey was sarved with bomb dressin’, an’ stuffed with tools fer workin’ iron. I seen how the job was done, an’ I’m givin’ ye. the straight 0) it.’ ”? 2? asserted the eh?” queried CHAR OH RY EY, THE DUPLICITY: OF CACTUS BLOSSOM. Oberlee was dazed for a minute, and then he gave way to a wrathful outburst, “Til bet dollars against chalk marks,” said he, “that that’s the way of it. That Ladies’ Aid Society came meddling here, and they helped Ponca Dave and Salva- dore a heap more than they had any notion.” “Where did they get that turkey?” asked the scout. “Mrs. Herrick told me that Salvadore’s sister gave it to them and asked them to tote it to the jail, along with the flowers and the ice cream. Oh, hang such foolish- ness.” cried the sheriff, his disgust breaking from him furiously. ‘‘That half- breed girl came here three times, with a basket, and tried to get in to see Black Salva- dore, but Jim and I ordered her off. “When this Ladies’ Aid Society came along, though, ‘they had Herrick and Derry Dolliver and Blazer with them. Herrick, Dolliver, and Blazer said it was all right, to let the women go in. What could I do, when three of the Cochise Cattlemen’s Association backed up the request of the Aid Society? And, besides, most of the society's members are wives jof the cattlemen.” ce scout stepped. across to the door of Job Hickley’s ce The wall was: BILL WEEKLY, | 5 “What do you know about this game Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore were playing, Hickley ?” he asked. “I know that they promised to let me clear out with “em if I didn’t give the snap away.” was the response, “but arter that bomb went off, they jest looked arter themselves an’ didn’t pay no attention i fie. LE they'd done what. they said they would, I’d ’a’ been out 0’ this jail myself about now.’ “The bomb and the files and that saw were in the carcass of the turkey?” “That’s what they was. As soon as them Aid Society people wet away, Black Salvadore began sawin’ the bars between his cell an’ Ponca Dave’s. He was keerful, an’ he used soap to keep the saw from makin’ too much noise. While the breed was workin’ at the bars, Ponca Dave was watchin’ fer Presidio or Oberlee to come; an’, while he watched, he had one o’ the files between his knees and was workin’ his cuffs up an’ down on the edge.” The scout examined the carcass of the fowl and showed the sheriff how it would have been possible to conceal the files and the bomb inside of it. “Blamedest thing J ever heard of,’ grunted Oberlee, “but that’s how the scheme was worked, ‘all fight enough. While Ponca Dave watched for me or Jim to show up, Black Salvadore did his sawing.’ “When the lights was put out,” continued Hickley, “them raiders kept right on with their preparations. I couldn’t see what they done, but I managed ter keep track o what was goin’ on by usin’ my ears. I was afeared, when they got ready ta plant the bomb, that it ’u’d flare back acrost the corridér, but Black Salvadore allowed he knowed how to fix it so’st it would throw the wall an’ everythin’ else out. I'd ’a’ yelled, I reckon, an’ give the whole game away if they hadn’t promised to take me with ’em. Reckorred I’d run the risk for the sake o’ gettin’ my liberty—an’ then I didn’t git my liberty, arter ath Job Hickley swore a little by way of easing his disap- pointment. “Did the raiders say anything about where they were going?” the scout inquired. “Nary a thing. From what they said, howsumever, I took it that somebody had got hosses ready fer ’em.” “Somebody! Did they say who?” “This gal Salvadore called Cactus Blossom. the saw an’ the files an’ the bomb in Pocotone.” “T had my suspicions of that half-breed woman,” de- clared Oberlee. “Do you know where she’s staying?” went on the scout. “In a shack at the edge of town. I had Jim follow her the last time she came to the jail and wanted to see Salvadore.” “Who lives in the shack? I suppose the girl is only staying there for a while, and that she doesn’t live in Poverty Flat.” “It was a deserted shack—nobody living in it. The girl just moved in so as to have a place to stay while she was fixing up things for Black Salvadore.” “Send over there at once, Oberlee,’ said the scout. “If the girl’s there, have her brought to the jail; if she isn’t there, have those you send try to find out where she’s gone.” “Vl do it,” answered the sheriff. “If I’d had my wits about me, I’d have done that before—just on suspicion.” “If you can see any of my pards outside,’ said the scout, “have them go along.” Oberlee left, returning: presently to report that he had sent Nomad and Presidio. “Every horseman you can get, Oberlee, “ought to be sent in pursuit.” “IT don’t think there’s much use,” was the dejected answer. “If it was daylight, there might be some show of a pursuit making good; but, as it is, those raiders can dodge away into the dark and snap their fingers at any one who. tries to follow them. They’ve got horses, Buffalo Bill; don’t overlook that. Cactus Blossom seems to have thought of everything.” The scout and the sheriff walked along the corridor and into the office in the front part of the jail building. There they found Mortimer Degard, president of the Cochise She got 29 said the scout, 6 NEW BUFFALO Cattlemen’s Association, and also Herrick, Blazer, and Dolliver. ene “Here’s a fine kettle o’ fish!’* shouted Degard. “Ain’t we ever going to-:get through being pestered with those raiders? The more we do to corral them, the more trouble we have for our pains.” : “That’s right!” exclaimed Herrick angrily. “What kind of a sheriff has this county got, anyhow? After we pay for having prisoners corralled and run in, Oberlee, I should think you could take care of them.” “If ye ain’t the man fer the office o’ sheriff,” growled Perry Blazer, “the cattlemen’ll see that some uh else 1s elected.” ( ‘ “Yore head’ll be in the basket next election, all right. Oberlee!” snorted Dolliver. This faultfinding on the part of the cattlemen was rather ‘amusing to the scout. Not knowing that the escape of the raiders had been the direct result of the meddling of the Ladies’ Aid Society, they were somewhat premature in spilling the vials of their wrath. A grin flickered across the worried face of the sheriff. “It ain’t no laughin’ matter!” scowled Blazer, noticing the grin. “Yes, it is,’ insisted Oberlee, and proceeded to tell the cattlemen how the bomb, the files, and the saw had been conveyed to the prisoners. Herrick, Blazer, and Dolliver were dumfounded. For a time not one of them could speak, but stared blankly at each ‘other. Mortimer Degard, however, had fluent use of his tongue. “You're a fine set, you are!” said he scathingly, turn- ing his glittering eyes on his fellow cattlemen. “You ought to be making embroidery for the Zulus, or settin’ log-cabin quilts together for the poor, benighted Hotten- tots! Didn’t they have any savvy at all when you looked at that turkey? Great guns!” He turned from the three cattlemen in disgust and faced the sheriff. “Oberlee, pardoname!” said he. “You’re a man of sand and sagacity, and the rank and file of the Cochise Association are the ones who are to blame. We're just where we were when Buffalo Bill and pards started in to capture the raiders.” Just at that moment Nomad and Presidio entered the jail office. “What luck, Jim?” called the sheriff. “No ‘luck at all, Dick,” replied the deputy. “Didn’t you find anything at the shack?” “Nothin’ but turkey feathers. The gal was gone, slick an’ clean.” “Did she leave any sign as to which way she went, Nick?” put in the scout. “Not a sign, Buffler,” said the old trapper. “That thar is a foxy moharrie, all right.” “Where’s the baron?” “Pasearin’ eround, lookin’ fer raiders.” | “Well, pard, you and the baron get your horses. See if you can do anything to pick up the trail of the escaped raiders. One of them was wounded by the explosion in the jail’ and that fact may make it necessary for them to proceed slowly in their get-away. Don’t stay away more than two or three hours. If you don’t find any promising clews—and it will be hard to pick up clews in the dark—come back and we'll all hit the trail in the morning. The trapper hurried out of the jail. “You'll still stand by us, Buffalo Bill?” asked Mortj- mer Degard. a _ ‘I don’t feel like leaving Poverty Flat while those two raiders are at large,” said the scout. “All: our work— and it wasn’t easy work, by any means—has been kicked over by what’s happened to-night. It’s an unsatisfactory condition of affairs, and I think Cody and pards ought to see what they can do.” ; , “Us fellers went lame,” said Perry Blazer sheepishly, but I don’t reckon we could do anythin’ diffrent than what we did. I’d be willin’ ter pay somethin’ ter hey them raiders back hyer in the jail ag’in.” 17? Herrick and Dolliver were also willing to “pay some- would taik about that later, As he stood thing.” The scout said they and went out to the front of the jail. BILL. WEERLY, there, looking at the curious people who were moving around the jail wall, some one came close and caught his sleeve. ie “Pa-e-has-ka!” murmured the familiar voice of the little Piute. “What is it, Cayuse?” the scout asked. “You come ‘long with Cayuse, Pa-e-has-ka. Cayuse find something. muy pronto.” : ; From the lad’s manner it was easy to infer that he had discovered something of importance. Without de- laying to put further questions, the scout made after him as he glided off into the night. All same Mebbeso you better know CHAPTER*YV. THE MEDICINE BAG, The course taken by Little Cayuse carried him and the scout farther toward the edge of town and well to the right of the main. street. Here there was a small swale, the bottom of which was. covered with. brush, Cay- use crawled over the bank of the swale and descended into a clump of whitethorn. “What have you got here, Cayuse?” asked the scout, ‘““Pa-e-has-ka wait,’ answered the boy; “me make um light.” “A dead cholla cactus, half of it dry as powder, grew part way up the bank of the swale. Cayuse touched a match to the cactus and it blazed up with a brightness that illuminated the swale for half a dozen yards in every direction. “You see, Pa-e-has-ka?” said Cayuse, pointing to the chafed trunk of an ironwood tree that grew in the center of the thicket. “Tres caballos all same hitched to iron- wood. You savvy um, huh?” The scout examined the tree and a little, cleared space of ground at the foot of it. “You're right, as usual, boy,” he remarked. “Three horses were hitched here. There’s a set-of small mocca- sin prints and two sets of boot prints. That would indi- cate that one of the riders was an Indian, perhaps a half-breed, but certainly a woman. The other two were men. One of the men was an Indian or a half-breed, because the woman and one of the men mounted their horses from the right side. The other man mounted from the left, as a white man always mounts.” “Wuh!” exclaimed Little Cayuse, with an admiring look at the scout. Buffalo Bill’s trained eye had discovered the truth as quickly as the little Piute had discovered it. “Look there, boy,” continued the scout, pointing to the side of the tree against which the light of the burning cholla was beating most brightly. “There is a smear of blood on the ironwood. A wounded man left that, either with his hand or by leaning against the tree when he untied his horse. One of the escaped prisoners was wounded, Cayuse.” “Ai,” nodded the boy. “One half-breed and one white man make um tracks from here. But how you call um moharrie?” ' “The woman, Cayuse, is a half-breed who claims to be the sister of Black Salvadore. She smuggled a bomb, a file, and a steel saw into the jail, and the prisoners used them for getting rid of their manacles and blowing their way to freedom. The woman calls herself Cactus Blos- som. In order to avail himself of the light, while it lasted, the scout at once began tracing the course taken by the fugitives. “They went south and west,” he remarked. “Cactus Blossom had the horses here, and was waiting for Salva- dore and Ponca Dave. As soon as they came, the horses were untied and the prisoners fled toward the déert. There’s no use trying to follow their trail to-night. That's a daylight proceeding, and——~” He stopped abruptly. “You find um something else, Pa-e-has-ka?” asked Cayuse. The scout had discovered the edge of the rim of a fourth horse, > something: else. Just at of firelight he picked up the tracks 1g 1s le rN rte OY st mn BIOL P Se ee AS eee ee. NEW “There v was some one.else waiting for Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore, Cayuse—another Tider who did not go as close to the hitched horses, as Cactus Blossom did. The man did not dismount, but waited here. When the others came along, he joined them. It was an unshod horse he rode, so probably an Indian cayuse. The man ‘may have been one of the redskin followers of Ponca ave.’ “Wuh ir has-ka.” The scout went a little way beyond the circle of light; then, as he was on the point of turning back, his foot struck against some object on the ground—an object that was soft under his boot sole. He bent quickly and touched the object with his hand. His fingers encountered soft fur, smooth as velvet. Won- exclaimed Cayuse. “You got um ane Pa-e- dering ‘what his find could be, the scout picked it up and turned to Cayuse. “Touch a match to another cholla, my lad,” said he. “T’ve found something which we must investigate.” Cayuse located another cactus, fired it, and the scout drew close and held up the object for a critical survey. “Ugh!” grunted Cayuse.. “Him Injun medicin: bag.” The little Piute was correct. The Indian who bad been waiting, and had formed the fourth member of the party, had lost something that was nearer and dearer to him than life itself, viz., his “medicine.” The pouch had been skillfully contrived from the whole skin of a beaver, intact with head, claws, and teeth. Be- tween the two forepaws was a laced slit. “We find um Injun raider’s ‘medicine,” exulted Cay- use, knowing what that. would mean to the unfortunate owner of the pouch. “Whoosh! Injun heap sorry him lost ‘medicine.’ Him feel all same squaw.” As the boy spoke and exulted, his hand wandered to his girdle and fondly patted his own medicine bag. Once, many moons before, Little Cayuse had lost his own ‘“‘medi- cine,” and he was a badly demoralized Piute until it was found and restored to him. The scout untied the thong that laced the slit, spread the two edges apart, and thrust in his hand. The first “thing he drew out—and there was nothing in the bag but was supposed to have magical properties— was a dried scalp, The hair of the scalp. was red, a color which must have given it its occult powers. Next there was developed a piece of pipestone from quarries twelve hundred miles distant, and guarded sacredly by the Pawnees. The stone had been rudely carved with figures of mystic omen. The. third object to be brought to light was a bundle of snake rattles: then a dried frog, and then, the very last, came a small, buckskin-wrapped packet, w hipped over with a cord of deer. sinew. “Ponca medicine heap fool medicine,’ derided Cayuse. “Every redskin thinks there’s no medicine like his own,’ laughed the scout. Cayuse hiniself, in his own pouch, had a dried mustang hoof which he believed had the most potent virtues; but the powers of the mustang hoof were very real to ‘him, and the red scalp, the dried frog, the bit of pipestone, and the buckskin packet excited only his contempt. The scout, laying the charms on the ground and drop- ping the beaverskin beside them, knelt to undo the deer sinew and examine the contents of the buckskin packet. A square of white cloth, neatly folded, came out of the packet. When spread out, ‘the cloth was seen to be marked curiously with some black pigment. First, there was the tracing of a ee and through this roughly traced figure ran a curved mark, crossing the straight lines of the parallelogram and ‘con- tinuing to curve around clear to the edge of the cloth. “Ugh! ” muttered Cayuse, peering over the scout’s shoul- der. “Pa-e-has-ka talk with um medicine? Medicine, talk to Pa-e-has-ka?” oe there is any talking between me and this medi- cine,” the scout smiled, “it’s not the sort of talk I can understand, Flowever, this looks as though it might have a value, and I’ll just put it in my pocket.” He threw away the bit of buckskin in which the cloth had been wrapped. Cayuse, with a grunt, caught up the beaverskin pouch. The next moment, had the scout 2? BUFFALO will. Therefore, I shall keep BILL. WEEKLY. a not restrained him, he would have thrown it upon the blazing cactus. “Not-so_ fast, Cayuse,” prove of value, too. into wo “Him heap bad luck,” demurred Cayuse, other Injun’s medicine.” “T'll shoulder the consequences, boy. into the pouch and then give it to me.’ Cayuse obeyed orders, “but with none too much grace. Meanwhile the scout had filled his pipe. Lighting it, he hunched up his knees and peered reflectively into the smoke that shimmered around him in the glow of the burning cactus. The Piute, having finished restoring the medicine to the bag, drew the lacing taut and tied 1 then dropped the bag at the scout’s side, Sitting near, he relapsed into patient silence. Pa-e-has-ka was thinking, and the boy was awaiting the result. “You went hunting for the escaped prisoners as soon as you left the hotel, Cayuse?” queried the scout. “Ai,” was the answer. “And you discovered that place where the horses had been tied?” ra “Well done. The little warrior, my Piute pard, has the eyes of an owl, and can see in the dark.” Although it thrilled him, yet Cayuse was silent and somber under this praise of his beloved Pa-e-has-ka. Only his eyes glowed—glowed in the fire gleam like smol- dering coals> “Boy,” the scout. went on, “when we captured Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore, many of the red raiders be- longing to the gang were left. They did not lose heart. Cactus Blossom came to them, and she told them what she would do to save her brother and Ponca Dave from the anger of the white men. Cactus Blossom plotted well.” “Squaws heap foolish sometimes,” sagely; “sometimes heap sharp.” “One of the red raiders has lost his medicine,’ went on the scout, “and it may help us to find the two leaders of the gang.” “How medicine help?” asked the wondering Cayuse. “That’s too deep for me, but | have a feeling that it said the scout. “That bag may Put the rest of the medicine back “to keep an- Put the stuff back commented Cayuse From the distance came a sharp report. Between the scout and the boy hissed a bullet, striking the burning cactus and flinging a shower of sparks and brands in all directions. Quick as a flash both Buffalo Bill and Cayuse were on their feet and racing in the direction from which the bul- let had come—the scout carrying the beaverskin. CHAPTER Vi. THE MYSTERIOUS MARKSMAN. Both the scout. and the Indian boy ‘were fairly sure about this mysterious marksman. Quite likely he was the owner of the lost medicine and had left the fugitives and ‘returned in the forlorn hope of discovering his beaverskin pouch. In the light of the blazing cholla he had seen Buf- falo’ Bill and Little Cayuse. Perhaps he had seen them fingering his treasures, or perhaps he had only seen the bag lying on the ground, at. the scouts’ side,’ “Be that as it might, he had hazarded a shot. With so clear a target, looming against the background of a. blazing cactus, the wonder was that his bullet had flown wide. To catch the red raider would be a move in the right direction. In order to get back his lost medicine, “he might be willing to offer some information regarding the whereabouts of Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore. In losing his medicine, an Indian loses caste among his people; but,.more than that, he suffers grievously in his own estimation. The warriors of his tribe look upon him with contempt, and make their contempt so sorely felt that their luckless comrade will take himself off and grieve in loneliness, wearing his raggedest blan- ket, painting his face black, and daubing his hair with clay. To recover lost medicine, and be once again a warrior. 8 : NEW BUFFALO among warriors, a redskin will go almost any length. Yes, most assuredly, that beaverskin pouch would be a fine thing, to use in dickering with its original owner. It was in the hope of capturing the Indian, there- fore, that the scout and the Piute boy hastened away toward the point from which the bullet had been launched. ne They had not gone far before the patter of retreating hoofs reached their ears. “No use, boy,” said the scout, drawing to a halt. “The red wouldn’t wait—he’s off like a streak. If we had our horses there might be a chance of overhauling him, but he’s going a dozen feet to our one, and it’s folly to run after him.” “More caballos come,” said Cayuse, waving a shadowy arm along the swale. : The scout could not see, but he heard the approaching hoofs. Presently a voice hailed: é “Hello, thar!” “Hello!” answered the scout. “Two horsemen drew close. “Tf it ain’t Buffler Bill!” exclaimed one of the men, leaning from his saddle and peering through the gloom. “Who are you?” demanded the scout. “I’m Stokes, an’ this here’s Painter,” was the reply. “Oberlee sent us out ter beat up the kentry in hope o’ findin’ some sign o’ them raiders. What was that shootin’ we heerd?? -< | “One of the raiders was firing at us, Stokes,’ answered the scout, speaking quickly. “It’s an Indian. He raced toward the southwest. Follow him—capture him if you an for he can help us locate Ponca Dave and Salva- ore:” . Stokes and Painter, realizing the necessity of haste, did not pause for more questioning. The first chance of the night to accomplish something. had come their way. With a rattle of spurs, they headed toward the south- west and had soon vanished among the shadows. _“We can do no more to-night, Cayuse,” said the scout. “Let’s go back to the jail?’ Together they turned on their course, recrossed the swale, and came to the adobe lockup. The crowd had thinned about the jail. Presidio and two other men were on guard at the break in the wall, and Dick Oberlee and Mortimer Degard were smoking pipes and exchanging notes in the office. “Got a clew?” inquired the cattleman, as the scout and the Piute boy walked in on them. “A clew, yes,” answered the scout, “but not much of a one, at that.” He handed the beaverskin to Degard. “Pah!” exclaimed Degard, “an Injun medicine bag.” “What's inside?” inquired Oberlee, catching the bag out of the cattleman’s hands. The scout recited the list of charms “Ugh!” grunted Degard. out of that?” Then the scout told of the bullet launched by the mys- terious marksman, and of his sending Stokes and Painter away on the man’s trail. “Now -you’re getting down to cases!” exclaimed De- gard. “The man who shot at you was the owner of the lost bag. If Stokes and Painter overhaul him and pene him in, we may be able to find out something worth while. “That’s what I’m hoping for,’ said the scout, “but if Stokes and Painter don’t have any success, we have this to fall back on.” With that he laid the cloth diagram out on the table, in front of the sheriff and the cattleman. “That’s a map, eh?” inquired Oberlee. “Looks like it,” said the scout. “Map of what?” asked Degard. “That's hard to tell.” “Don’t pin any faith in that scrap of cloth,” said the cattleman. “An Injun’s liable to pick up anything and stuff it in his medicine bag.” “T have a feeling that this is valuable.” “In what way?” “The presentiment doesn’t go into details, Degard: It’s jst a notion that’s taken hold of me.” _- - “Don’t bank too heavily on it, Buffalo ? ~ravely. “How do you make a clew Bill,” urged BILL WEEKLY. Degard. “I’m playing Stokes and Painter to bring us ip our first real tip.” : “If they succeed, Oberlee,” said the scout, folding up the cloth diagram and putting it in his pocket and pos- sessing himself of the medicine bag, “get word to me ‘at the hotel. I’m going there and sleep out the rest of the night. We’r@liable to have busy times to-morrow.” “Vou'll take the trail after Ponca Dave and Black Sal- vadore?” asked Degard anxiously. “We'll try to pick up the trail,” was the scout’s answer; “and, if we do, you may be sure we'll run it out.” “When do you start?” “Directly after breakfast. Pawnee Bill went. to a fan- dango, over toward Adobe Walls. He’ll ride with us, and he ought to be back before we’re ready to start. | hope he'll get back in time to rest up a little.” “Vou don’t mean to say,” cried Degard, “that he went alone to that baile of Sebastian’s?” “He did,” answered the scout. “Pawnee Bill isn’t afraid to go alone anywhere. What of it?” “Sebastian is a greaser, and plumb lawless. Men of his own. stripe flock to his bailes. Pulque flows free, and it’s as much as an American’s life is worth to show himself at one of the fandangos. But Pawnee Bill knows how to look out for number one, I reckon.” “None better,” said the scout, as he and Cayuse left the jail. Nevertheless, what the cattleman had said about Sebas- tian and his bailes had jarred the scout unpleasantly. Only Buffalo Bill’s confidence in the prince of the bowie’s tact and courage kept him from taking horse forthwith and riding toward Sebastian’s. It was after three o’clock in the morning when the scout got back into bed. None of his other pards had returned to the hotel. He slept an hour and was aroused by Stokes. He did not open the door, for Stokes reported from the hall that the mysterious marksman had not been overhauled. “That’s hard luck,’ said the Scout. “Degard an’ Oberlee seem ter think so,’ answered Stokes. “Did you hear or see anything of the Indian?” “Seein’ was out o’ the question, Buffler Bill, bekase o’ the dark. We used our ears, but it didn’t do no good. Mebbe we was on the wrong track.” “You must have been, or else your horses weren't fleet enough. Tell Degard not to lose hope. Something 1s liable to happen to-morrow.” Stokes went away and the scout went to sleep again. Half an hour later he was aroused by another rap on his door. “Who’s there?” the scout demanded. “Me,” came the voice of the old trapper. “Did you discover anything, Nick?” “Not so ye could notice. Didn’t reckon we could, goin’ by gliess an’ by gosh like we was.” “Is the baron with you?” “He’s puttin’ up the saddle stock.” “Pawnee back yet?” SNarye “Well, pard, go to bed and sleep until you’re called. We're going to hit the trail in the morning.” ‘“Hoop-a-la!” said Nomad, and tramped away. It was the tin trumpet, blowing for breakfast, that pulled the scout out of his dreams for the last time. Bounding from his blankets, he took a look out of the window of his room. The sun was just rising. “Now,” he thought, as he began dressing, “if Pawnee Bill isn’t back, I’ll know he landed on some sort of a reef at Sebastian’s. In that event,” and the scout’s brow clouded, “I’ll have two matters to attend to—locating Pard Pawnee and running down the escaped raiders—and neither one will admit of much delay. As between the vo nodal, it will be Pawnee that claims my first atten- ion. Hoping for the best, he left his room and descended to the office. Cayuse was already down, and Nomad an the baron were getting into their clothes. “Has Pawnee come, Cayuse?” asked the scout. “Nah, Pa-e-has-ka,” answered the boy. “Pawnee him _ not in hotel, and Chick Chick him not in corral.” | A host of disagreeable possibilities flashed through the mind of the king of scouts, but the one that struck him hardest was this: - Had Pawnee Bill fallen into some trap laid by the red taiders? Cactus Blossom had proved herself a clever hand at planning, and could it be that she was back of the invitation and the veiled threat that had drawn the prince of the bowie to Sebastian’s? e This was’ a momentous—perhaps a vital—possibility, and the scout’s worry grew apace as he turned it over in his mind. CHAPTER VII. LONE DOG. » Often, in following one trail in life, we cross another which offers possibilities we did not expect. Thus it was with the scout and his pards when they left Poverty Flat immediately after a hurried breakfast. To the great dismay of Oberlee and Mortimer Degard, the scout did not proceed to the swale and lay a south- westerly course, in the direction taken by the escaped raiders; but, instead of this, Buffalo Bill, Nomad, the baron, and Little Cayuse galloped off along the trail to Adobe Walls. “Ain’t you going after Ponca Dave and Black Salva- dore?” inquired the cattleman. “Later,” said the scout. “We've something else .to attend to. first.” “But the longer you wait, Buffalo Bill, away the raiders are getting.” hat, may all be, Degard, but Pard Pawnee may have Struck a (snag at ’Sebastian’s baile, and been given a dance not on the program. We're going to look in at Sebastian's. “Then,” spoke up Oberlee, the raiders with a posse.’ “A good idea, Oberlee,” said the scout, you luck. A pard is first with me, always.” With that, the scout struck out along the trail to Adobe Walls. “MM ebbeso,” the farther “I reckon VU hike’ after remarked the: old trapper, after an hour of silence and steady jogging, “this hyar Cactus Blossom mohatrie had somethin’ ter do. with thet ace o’ clubs thet was slipped under Pawnee’s door yesterday mornin’.” “She might have put it there, Nick,” returned the scout, “although who wrote the card and gave her the cue are matters of mystery. So far as I can find out, there was only one turkey in all Poverty Flat—and that’s the one Jeff Holloway was saving for our Sunday dinner. Now, it was a roast turkey that Cactus Blossom tried three times to take into the jail and deliver to Salvadore; and it was that same roast turkey which the Ladies’ Aid So- ciety finally delivered for Cactus Blossom. The question is, was Cactus Blossom’s turkey the same bird Jeff Hol- loway had in his chicken coop, and lost mysteriously?” 7 lebed you somet’ing for nodding it vas!” chirped the baron. : “Waugh!” agreed Nomad, “ther baron’s bean is on ther right number. Cactus Blossom got the turkey, roasted et, and stuffed et with thet hardware an’ powder dressin’. Thar ain’t no doubt o’ thet, an’ I’ll gamble my last soo “lf that is true, it means that Cactus Blossom was at the hotel,” remarked the scout. “She may have stolen the turkey at the time she passed the playing card under the bottom of Pawnee Bill’s door.” “She done et!” asserted the old trapper. “Didn’t Jim Presidio an’ me find turkey feathers in thet desarted shack whar ther half-breed gal was a-stayin’?” “Then,” continued the scout, “a large field of possibili- ties is opened up. Cactus Blossom has identified herself with the raiders; therefore, in shoving that invitation to the baile under Pard Pawnee’s door, she may have ve actine for some of the red gang who are still at arge. not only to secure the rescue of Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore, but also the capture of Pavaice Bill, at the same time.” “An’ this greaser Sebastian is helpin’ the gal an’ the raiders?” NEW BUFFALO “and I wish | If we take all this for granted, then the game was BILL WEEK ye 9 “From all I can hear of Sebastian, Nick, I’d not put a play of that sort past him.” “Py shinks,’ piped the baron, der t’ing oudt pedder as I can tell. Der more vat you talk, der gloser vat ve get to der trut’. Dot durkey clew iss der finest vat ve efer shtruck, yah, so helup. me.’ ‘Some one at Sebastian’s,” proceeded the scout, “went about the work by luring Pawnee Bill into a trap in a mighty clever way. A dare was flaunted in our pard’s face, and he’d throw himself at a hundred greasers be- fore he’d take a dare.” “Ach du lieber!” Pouated the baron. “I vish dot Paw- nee had let Nomat und me go along mit him.” Before the talk could proceed any further, the distant whinny of a horse reached the ears of the pards. Their own mounts pricked up their ears. The scout drew rein, and the others followed suit. The party of riders were close to a place around which clustered memories of am old clash with the raiders. The mouth of a ravine opened close to the trail. ral clothed the bottom of the ravine, and the familiarity of the place struck each member of the party suddenly and with considerable - force. ; A little way up the defile Little .Cayuse had once camped for several days with two Apache trailers who were eager to join Ponca Dave’s gang; and still farther up the ravine, Black Salvadore had pitched his camp and held captive Mortimer Degard. All the pards had had exciting experiences in that ravine, and the whinny of the horse, floating out of it, was well calculated to give them pause. What d’ye reckon thet means?” demanded old Nomad. “It means dere iss a horse in der rafine,’ expounded the baron; “und oof dere iss a horse dere, den dere iss a riter mit der animal. dot der riter iss a raiter—for dis looks like der blace vere you said der raiters hang oudt mit demselufs.” “Tf we could find a raider any place, Nomad,” said the scout, “I’d be inclined to look here. We'll delay our journey to Sebastian’s long enough to have a look for that horse and his owner.” “Kerect, Buffler !” The scout led the way through the undergrowth and into the defile. The moment the thickest of the brush was passed, he set Bear Paw to the gallop, and the whole party went thumping and thrashing along the serpentine windings of the ravine. The scout drew rein abruptly. A hobbled Indian cay- use—presumably the animal that had given the alarm— broke upon his eyes. Within fifty feet of the cayuse was an overhang of rock. This overhang was the very spot where Cayuse had spent several exciting days in camp with the Apaches. The boy knew the spot well. Passive and stoical, an Indian was squatted under the lip of the overhang. -His muzzle-loading rifle, powder- horn, and bullet pouch lay in a heap at his side. A ‘ragged blanket covered the redskin’s shoulders and was drawn up closely under his chin. His face was black- ened, and ooze from the margin of the :mall stream that flowed down the ravine was “plastered in his hair. The Indian’s head was bent, and he neither moved ae lifted his eyes as the pards halted and surveyed im. “Waal, thunder an’ kerry one!” gulped the old trap- per. “Ther pizen red looks as though he had been drummed out o’ the tribe, an’ was waitin’ hyar ter starve hisself ter death. He ain’t hosstyle any, an’ mebbeso he’s hopin’ we'll put a bullet inter him an’ ease his mis’ry.” Little Cayuse’s eyes glimmered as he looked at the scout. ‘““Pa-e-has-ka,” lose medicine, huh? hide himself in ‘old raider place.” The notion was startling. For a moment it seemed so far-fetched that the scout would not give it serious con- sideration. Then slowly the probability of an interplay of coincidences grew upon the scout with all the force of supreme conviction. Had he and his pards tried to follow the tracks of the mysterious marksman of the preceding night, they would Baer ey have failed to locate him; but, thinking not “you fellers iss figuring said the Piute, “mebbeso him Injun that Chapar- > Und der shance iss goot, bards, Mebbeso him raider, and come to » f NEW BUFFALO 10 at all of the Indian who bad lost his medicine, they had started for Sebastian’s to hunt for Pawnee Bill and had been drawn into the ravine and directly to the redskin who, it seemed almost certain, had lost the beaverskin bag. This Indian gave mute testimony, in every way, of being the man who had lost his medicine. He was passively dejected, and did not care a rap what happened to him. Filled with wonder at the weird trend of events, Buf- falo Bill motioned his pards to silence, handed his reins to Nomad, and got down from his horse. Stepping close to the Indian, the scout stood looking down at him, The redskin never lifted his eyes, nor shifted his posi- tion by an inch. He kept his head | bowed, and allowed his squalor and his misery to impress the white men to their fullest extent. “What sorrow has come to my brother?” scout. ~ The Indian grunted, but made no further reply.. “Does my red brother wish to go over the one-way trail?” went on the scout. “Has he lost his medicine, and can he no longer stand among the warriors of his tribe?” There was another grunt, which may have meant or “no” or nothing at all. “li my brother vill let. Pa-e-has-ka be his friend,” con- .finued ‘the scout patiently, ‘then the medicine that is: lost’ may he returned.” This struck a spark from the: Indian’s. intelligence, and he slowly raised his head. “Pa-e-has-ka give um-Lone Dog his lost asked the redskin. "Will. Lone Dog: talk with Pa-e-has-ka about Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore?” hedged the scout. The Indian was silent for a space, evidently consider- ing the proposition. ““Mebbeso Lone Dog talk,” said he finally, has-ka give um back Lone Dog’s medicine ?” “se pepe) ‘ asked the “yes” medicine ?’ “then Pa-e- Lone Dog began to show a growing interest in life. “Pa-e-has-ka got um-Lone Dog’s medicine?” he in- quired. cautiously. The scout returned to his horse and took the medicine pouch from his war bag. He showed the beaverskin to Lone Dog, and the redskin’s eyes lighted with hope. “Let Pa-e-has-ka make um talk,” said he, throwing back his blanket. “All same Lone Dog make um taik, too.” “Check!” chuckled the. old trapper. “Tally one fer Cody luck an’ the lost medicine. Did anybody ever hyer anythin’ ter beat et?” CHAPTER VIIL. THE PARDS SEPARATE, Through good fortune, the scout was able to bring to bear on "Lone Dog about the only argument that could have been at all effective. Seemingly confident that his lost medicine was as: good as recovered, Lone Dog went down to’ the water -and washed the’ black from his face and the mud from his hair. The old blanket he kicked up under the overhang, then strung his powderhorn and bullet pouch over his shoulders, picked up his muzzle-loader, and was ready for action. His first move was to roll a cigarette, then to blow a whiff of smoke toward the sky, another toward the earth, and a third in the direction of the sun. The scout had his brier going, and also blew the three ceremonial whiffs. : “Make um palaver, Pa-e-has-ka,” ‘The Ponca brave,” country of his people.” “Yhe Ponca 1s part Comanche. Him go with ’Pache Comanche, Kiowa—all same any Injun: where war trail is red.” “You eae -“You were waiting in the chaparral, last night, while Cactus Blossom helped Ponca Brave and Black "Salyadore to ese ce from the jaue! Se Ait? : “4 5 Wea apices said Lone Dog. said’ the scout, “is far from the are one of Ponca Dave’s raiders ?” BILL: WEEKLY. “Who is Cactus Blossom?” “Him sister Salvadore.” “Where is: her lodge?” “Him lodge at Greaser Sebastian’s.” “Pr-waugh ” struck in old Nomad, following intently all that way said. “Even ther talk trail p’ints us fer Sebastian’s. : : Lone Dog answered the scout’s question with stoical indifference as to his legal responsibilities. His eye was single to the purpose of recovering the beaverskin bag, and he was ready to go any length in getting it back. “Cactus Blossom lives at Greaser | Sebastian’ Ss?” went on the scout, keen for this new line of inquiry. VAL Sebastian’s squaw him aunt to Cactus Blossom and Salvadore.” “Dot’s der reason, I bed you, dot Sebastian helups der breeds,” chimed in the baron. “Greaser Sebastian helped Cactus Blossom in her plan to release Ponca Dave and Salvadore?” “Aji, Greaser Sebastian and the mujercita.” “Mujercita 2” “All ean Lola, Greaser Sebastian’s girl.” “Vou sabe whether Lola wrote the paper talk for Cac- ttis Blossom to take to Pawnee Bill?” “No sabe.” “You no sabe Pawnee Bill go to the baile at Greaser Sebastian’s ?” Lone Dog shook his head. It seemed clear that he was in the dark as to the plans involving Pawnee Bill. “Was Salvadore hurt when he and Ponca Dave blew their way out of the jail?” proceeded the scout, taking another tack. “Ponca Dave hurt,’ “How?” Lone Dog pushed a hand against his left side and swayed as he squatted on the ground. “Heap bad,” said he; “no sabe how,” “He could ride his horse?” eA? ‘Where have Ponca Dave, Salvadore, and som gone?” Lone Dog waved his hand southward. “All same Ponca Dave’s medicine lodge,” he answered. This “‘medicine lodge” of the leader. of the raiders had cut a large figure in Ponea Dave’s affairs during the time he was a free agent and able to work his lawless will. {t was said to be a house of mystery—but just what the “mystery” consisted of neither the-scout nor his pards had ever been able to discover. There were those who said that the “medicine lodge” was a fabrication, and that it had no existence in fact. Others were agreed that the place was a secret rendez- vous, with the way to it so carefully hidden that even an Indian had to go over the course twice before he could cover it unaided. If Ponca Dave really had such a hang-out, it seemed quite natural to the scout that he should make for it at a time when he was wounded and in need of a safe haven. “Does Lone Dog sabe the trail to the ‘medicine lodge! asked the scout. The Indian nodded. “Will Lone Dog take Pa-e-has-ka there?” A startled look Tenbesen Lone Dog’s face. ‘“Pa-e-has-ka heap big brave; all same, Pa- e-has-ka go to medicine lodge him never come out alive.” The scout laughed. At that, Lone Dog’s earnestness increased. “Medicine lodge,” he insisted, “muy malo for Ponca Dave’s enemies. Pa-e-has-ka him no friend Ponca Dave. Ponca Dave like um Pa-e-has-ka’s hair. Ugh!” “Look you, Lone Dog,” said the scout sharply. “I’ve got your lost medicine. You shot at me in the dark, try- lag to pet it back, and——” - “Heap big medicine,” broke in Lone Dog. “Pa-e- -has- ka no stop um bullet while he got Lone Dog’s medicine.” “Well, whether because of the medicine or not, yout bullet missed me. Now, if you want the medicine ae i have to show me the way to this medicine lodge. Whe ee bring me in front of it, you can have your beaver- skin, said the Indian. Cactus Blos- ’ ?? ” NEW MANS muttered Lone Dog. “Me show Pa-e-has-ka the medicine lodge.” The scout got up and stepped toward his pards, taking the aa bag with him. “We'll have to separate, campadres,” said he. “Waugh!” grunted the old trapper, “blamed ef I like ther idee, Buffler. Fer why hev we got ter separate?” “Why, Nick, because we’re at a place where the trail forks—and we've got to see what’s along each fork with- out any delay.” ‘i don’t rise ter ye yit,’ “It’s like this: Cactus Blossom’s plans. included Paw- nee Bill, last night. There seems to be little doubt on that score. Helped by Sebastian, I take it, the half-breed girl has brought about the escape of Ponca Dave and’ Salvadore, and has thrown trouble Pawnee Bill’s way. A chance offers for two of us to get to Ponca Dave’s house of mystery. If we don’t take Lone Dog at his word immediately, the chance may never come again. And you can see, Nomad, that not an hour is to be lost in doing what we can to find out what’s happened to Pawnee.” “T reckon ye’re right, as per us’al, Buffler,” admitted the trapper. “Et’s yore plan fer two o’ us ter go with Lone, Dog, and fer t’other two ter keep on ter Greaser Sebastian’s 2” Ves “Which two follers Lone Dog?” “Cayuse and I will run out that trail.” “Leavin? ther baron an’ me ter make front’ on ther greaser hang-out an’ see ef Pawnee is thar?” Dabhats it: ‘Waal, ye’re ther cap’n, Buffler. with yore pards “There's no use for me to tell you, Nick,’ said the scout, “that you and the baron have got to keep your eyes skinned for treachery and several other kinds of trouble. I imagine, from what I have heard of it,;-that Sebastian’s place is a nest of lawlessness.” “T reckon,” returned the trapper grimly, “thet ther baron an’ me’ll hey plain an’ easy sailin’ at Sebastian’s, compared ter what ye’ll hev at thet medicine lodge o’ Ponca Dave’s. What aire we ter do arter we look inter matters at Sebastian’s?” “Whatever comes handiest. Whatever ye says goes If you discover nothing, and find that Pawnee is all right, and was merely delayed in getting back to Poverty Flat, why, go back to the Flat yourselves and wait there.” “Leavin’ you an’ Cayuse ter git tangled up with. them red raiders at this house o’ mystery, eh?” said Nomad discontentedlyj “Me no like um, Buffler. You an’ Cay- use aire corrallin’ ther hot end o’ this, an’ not leavin’ ther baron an’ me no chanst ter help ye.” “There's no other way for it.” “Kain’'t we come on ter this medicine lodge from Sebastian’s 2?” i “You could, if you knew the way; but you. don’t. What’s more, Lone Dog wouldn't be able to help you, for he’d be guiding Cayuse and me.’ “Thet’s ther propersition, all right, an’ we kain’t dodge et. I’ve heerd tell thet this medicine lodge oO Ponca Dave is a good many marches ter ue south.” wit (cant be. “Fer why not?” “Because Ponca Dave was badly wounded when he got away from the jail. In spite of that, he headed for his medicine lodge. He wouldn’t have started for the lodge unless he’d known he was able to reach it; and he couldn’t have reached it if it was more than a short march to the south.” “L reckon ye kin tally agin. Ef ther baron an’. me kin pry out er way fer gittin’ ter thet medicine lodge from Sebastian’s, we’re a- goin’ ter come.” “All right—if you can.’ The scout turned back toward Lone Dog, after slipping the beaverskin into his war bag. “Get on your cayuse, Lone Dog,’ off for the house of mystery.” The Indian bounded erect, hurried to his pony, and re- moved the hobbles, then mounted. Whirling the animal to an about face, he started for the mouth of the ravine. When the party had regained the trail, the trapper and * the scout called. ‘‘We’re BUFFALO ride across the desert. BILL OWEERLY, Lt the baron faced toward Adobe Walls and Sebastian’s, while the scout and the little Piute shacked along in the wake of Lone Dog. “Adios and good luck, Buffler!” whooped the trapper. “Same to you, old pard!” answered the scout. CHAPTER IX. LOLA, THE SIREN. A Mexican is a sleepy, quiet-loving person until you flaunt a feast or a baile in front of his eyes. Thereupon he awakes to mad activity. He will travel miles to eat his fill or dance the leather off his feet. Pawnee Bill, just as he had intended, made an’ easy The sun was down and the night advanced when he hove in sight of the adobe inhabited by Greaser Sebastian and his tribe. But the prince of the bowie did not regret the lateness of his arrival. A baile’s fun is not at its best until night waxes toward the waning point. The adobe was a sprawling black shadow against the lighter background of the desert.. Being only one story in ‘height, Sebastian’s casa had to cover a good deal of ground in order to afford the necessary area for the owner and his tribe. Poor Mexicans gravitate by a special law toward the home of a rich and influential relative. Usually they eat the rich relative out of house and home, and again gravi- tate toward some other of their, kin who has had a wind- fall. But to eat Sebastian out of house and home seemed an impossibility. He had always beef for the mere kill- ing and frijoles for the cooking, and even pulque for the drinking. This had been so for years and years, and, gracias a Dios, the poor of Sebastian's blood hoped it would ever remain so. A well in the desert furnished Sebastian with water, and this water made an oasis of some five acres of sand. There were a few cottonwoods on the oasis, and the irrigated land was planted to beans and peppers and corn. As Pawnee Bill rode down. a gentle slope that gave him a view of the rancho, a murmur of gay voices struck on his ears, picked out with gayer music of guitar and violin. Light flashed through narrow windows, and he saw sad- dle horses dozing at hitching poles. Leather-lined ox- carts were grouped in another place. The prince of the bowie’s keen eyes, running over horses and carts, proved to him that this baile was well attended. ‘And they’re enemies!” muttered Pawnee Bill, turning Chick Chick toward a cottonwood well away from the hitching poles and the banked oxcarts. -“Shades of Unk- te-hee, [ wonder why? Have I ever crossed Sebastian’s trail? Is he some one: I know, who has run up a score against me? Well,” and he laughed a little as he swung down from his saddle, “‘on with the dance—let joy be unconfined.’ I'll soon know what there is to this. Mean- while, Chick Chick,” he added, buckling the reins around the cottonwood, “be ready to ’ show four of the swiitest hoofs in these parts if I. come for you suddenly. He gave the buckskin a slap as he turned aaa made his way fearlessly toward the house. The house, like’ most Mexican dwellings, was built around an open square, or patio. A wide entrance led through the front part of the building and into the patio. In that square space, open to the sky and flanked with the living quarters of the Mexican’s household, were stored the carts and harness, the meager farming tools, the bridles and saddles belonging to the rancho. As Pawnee Bill jingled his resplendent way into the peed entrance, a Mextean appeared suddenly before dim, : “Que quiere?” : “What do I want? Why, my share of the festivities, amigo. Who am I? Pawnee Bill, right bower of the king of scouts, no one else. What’s more, I’m here by special bid. Inform his greaser nibs that Pawnee Bill is waiting at the gate. “Pronto, pronto! That music has been tickling my heels ever since I first began to hearity The Mexican vanishéd to announce the Americano. The prince of the bowie, while he waited, hummed the air tb NEW BUFFALO called “La Golondrina,” and stepped a dance around the entrance. He almost hopped into a small, weasel-faced Mexican, of uncertain age, who abruptly presented him- self at a door. ; “Sefior Pawnee Bill?” grinned the Mexican. The smile showed his teeth and was more like a Stan, and in his beady eyes came a glitter of triumph. oe “Why, yes,” replied the prince of the bowie. “Didn't the sother greaser make that plain to you?” Seat ‘ “You're Sebastian, eh?” “T am Pedro Sebastian, yes.” : “Boshu nechee®’ Mighty kind of you, Sebastian, to give me a bid to your doings. But why has the music stopped?” : “My friends wait; the dance is stayed in Sefior Paw- nee Bill’s honor.” Sebastian bowed with a flourish, show- ing the ivory handles of two revolvers at the back of his belt. “Will you come?” : “Sure I’ll come, but don’t fool yourself by thinking I’m a fly in the spider’s parlor. Maybe you’ve heard that I can throw a knife or a rope with some precision, and my bullets don’t go far wide of the targets they’re aimed at. Also, Sebastian, 1 have eyes in the back of my head, and my ‘medicine’ talks to me. I Told You So is a prophet in every tribe: but Pawnee Bill’s.” Some of this, if not all, was absorbed by Sebastian. Once more he showed his teeth in a guileful grin and backed through the door, beckoning with his finger. Wrought-steel rowels and silver hawk’s bells tinkled their music as the prince of the bowie strode after Sebas- tian. They came presently into the great sala, whose ground space measured fifty by forty feet, brightly lighted by kerosene lamps. Benches flanked the walls, and on them sat Mexicans, Mexicanas, and ninos, all silent and- staring at the newcomer. On a raised platform at the farther end of the room were four Mexicans, two with guitars and two with vio- lins. Scattered over the floor, just where the music had left them, were the dancers. Pawnee Bill swept his eyes around him. even in those of the ninos, he read hate. Why was this, he asked himself. Never had he seen Sebastian before, nor any of Sebastian’s Mexican guests. He was the only Americano at the baile, and perhaps, if the worst came, there would be forty swarthy-skinned men against him. He met the ominous looks with a smile, and the fair ones could not, avoid showing their admiration. There was not a caballero in all that crowded sala with the face and figure of this dashing Americano. The man in brown appealed to the ladies, if not to the men. Sebastian. lifted his hand and spoke a few words of in- troduction. His talk was Spanish, but not much of it escaped Pawnee Bill.. The Americano was Pawnee Bill, pard of the great scout; Pawnee Bill was a guest, and Sebastian hoped his friends would remember that Pawnee Bill had helped Buffalo Bill in the war against Ponca Dave and the. raiders. Let them, Sebastian urged, treat Pawnee Bill according to his deserts. That reference to the raiders offered the prince of the bowie food for thought. Had the raiders anything to do with Sebastian? Had the capture of Ponca Dave and: Black Salvadore anything to do with the invitation to the baile? Before Pawnee Bill could arrive at any conclusion, the music struck up. “But this was not in obedience to. a signal from Sebastian. A girl had waved her hand to the musicians, at the same time speaking sharply, so that she could. be heard by all in the room. Those, who: had been dancing melted away into the side lines. The girl had the floor to herself. The music was a languorous Spanish dance, and the girl began float- ing through it, gliding forward and backward, and paus- ing to bend her. lithe form gracefully. _ The girl was beautiful. There was no denying that. Pawnee Bill admitted it to himself as he stood against the wall, watching her float back and across and up and down the big room. She was looking for her cavalier. Eagerly the young Mexicans watched her approach, and then disappointedly saw her whirl past them. In. every eye, e BILL WEEKLY. Slowly, with liquid eyes sparkling and the light striking dusky gleams from her black hair, she came nearer and nearer the man in brown. “She'll get a partner, all right,” thought the prince of the bowie, “if she comes within hailing distance of me.” “Dance with Lola, and the Americano dies! zales, have said it!” The keen words bored their way into Pawnee Bill’s ear, and he turned slowly. A young rico in gray and green was at his elbow, and there was a threat in his eyes as well as in his voice. “Lola,” muttered the prince of the bowie. what she is called, eh?” “T.oia Sebastian, daughter of Pedro,’ went on the rico. “She is to be mine!” “Scoot-a-wah-boo!” laughed the’ man in brown. At that moment Lola had snatched a handkerchief from her bosom and dropped it at Pawnee Biull’s feet: Gon- zales reached for it, but he was a shade too late. The bit of cambric was already in the hands of the man in brown. The lust to kill shot through Gonzales’ swarthy face and his hand fell to his knife. Sebastian seized his arm and whispered to him. Gon- zales nodded savagely, dropped his hand from the knife, and léaned wrathfully against the wall. Pawnee Bill, with a grace and ease that seemed mar- velous to the Mexicans, danced out across the floor, the handkerchief in his hand and the hawk’s bells jingling what might have been a requiem. For Lola—and well he knew it—was a siren, enraging the Mexicans, and especially Gonzales, against him. If not a siren, then she. was a coquette eager for conquest. But such a dare Pawnee Bill would not take. From her lustrous hair, Lola pulled a red rose and flung it at the Americano. The man in brown deitly snatched it from the air and thrust its stem through his buttonhole. Gonzales, heaving a Spanish oath, again let his hand flutter around his knife hilt. And again the wily Sebastian soothed him. The languorous Spanish dance was followed. through to its end, and the end camé when Pawnee Bill, going down on one knee, caught the sefiorita’s hand and pre- tended to press it to his lips. The slim fingers of the sefiorita closed around the palm of the man in brown, lifted him erect, drew his hand through her arm, and then, together, they passed through a door leading out of the sala. There came a roar of rage from the Mexicans, followed by a rush, led by Gonzales, toward the door through which the Americano and the Mexicana had passed. But Sebastian stemmed the tide and blocked the. pur- suit. He spoke quickly and sharply, and anger gave way to complaisance, while a mocking laugh went the rounds of the big room. : The coil was tightening around.the Americano. I, Gon- (oo. that. is CHAP Un GETTING A LINE ON SEBASTIAN. Conscience holds no despotic sway over the ordinary Mexicana. Fancy and caprice guide her, and there are those who will break a heart or wreck a life without a qualm. ah ‘ _ Pawnee Bill knew all this, but he was seeking informa- tion. To get a line on Sebastian and uncover the cause of his hostility was the work the prince of the bowie was anxious to accomplish. He felt instinctively that Lola Sebastian had written that invitation around the ace of clubs, and what she knew of her father’s plans, the man from No Man’s Land wanted to know. So he went with her cheerfully, by no means ignorant of the hornets’ nest he was leaving behind him in the sala. _ The girl did not speak. Lightly she held his hand in her arm, and by a devious course led him through the wide entrance and out of the house. oe ently, to a small pool whose banks were fragrant with oleander trees. Here there was a bench. The girl seated herself, Pawnee Bill dropping down at her side in such a manner that he could keep watch behind him. | “The Americano is brave,” said Lola, in rippling They came pres-' Cate oe tela ~ ae et Ne Sa ea ey I Jnl el eee English that held the barest suggestion of a Spanish accent. “Gracias,” said the prince of the bowie grimly, “but less brave, perhaps, than foolhardy. You sent Ahat invita- tion, chiquita mia?” “Me, I sent it, yes. And you came.” “And found a crowd of strangers, with every hombre of them ‘ready to bowie me. Why: is that, seforita? What have I ever done to your father and your father’s friends?” “You are the compadre of Buffalo Bill, not so?” “Aye, and that’s my chief glory. Few men are picked by the king of scouts for blanket mates. He’s my necar- nis, my best friend and sworn pard. What has Buffalo Bill done that you and your outfit go gunning for his compadres?” “Tt is what he, and you and the rest of your com- padres have done.” “By the sacred O-zu-ha, but this gets deeper and darker. Be plain with me, sefiorita, I’m not here to be knifed or shot. If necessary, I can throw a bowie clear through your respected padre and then show the balance of his tribe how I wear my back hair. But I don’t want to be violent,” The girl laughed a little: It was one of those dulcet, Mexicana laughs which have tinkled from the Rio Grande to Yucatan, between the gulf and the Pacific, and aroused love or hate in the breasts of countless caballeros. But it aroused neither one nor the other in the breast of the prince of the bowie. He kept a cool head under any and all circumstances. “Let me tell you,” said Lola, the siren. “My madre is a blood relative of Black Salvadore. Ponca Dave is my father’s sworn friend, just as you are Buffalo Bill’s. Do you sabe, amigo mio?” ‘“An-pe-tu-we!” exclaimed Pawnee Bill. “The light breaks. Your respected father is in a taking because Buf- falo Bill and pards have helped the Cochise cattlemen and rounded up Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore. For that reason I am asked to come here. Possibly Sebas- tian would like to seize and hold me, ransoming the two raiders out of the jail in Poverty Flat? That game was tried once by Black Salvadore, with the result that Sal- vadore. got into the yamen at the Flat, instead of getting Ponca Dave out of it. Tell Pedro Sebastian to be wise, and profit by the experience of Black Salvadore.” “That is not it, Americano,” said the girl. Phen what ds aris: “It is revenge the padre wants. He will not seize and hold’ you, but whén he and his guests are ready they will: strike—strike to kill.” “Ym obliged for your tip, chiquita mia,’ returned Paw- nee Bill, with his careless laugh. “They'll have to be quicker than chain lightning if they strike me first; and, as for the killing part—well, let me assure you that your respected father has coppered the wrong bet. If you're in the plot, why are you telling me this?” “Because, amigo mio, I have a plot of my own and I wish you to help me.” “Now, by Unk-te-hee, this whole business is getting more interesting. You helped get me into one plot in order that I might help you engineer another. Buenos! Tell me what wires you want to pull, sefiorita, and I'll reflect and let you know what I can do.” “You—you saw Gonzales?” “That blear-eyed dago in gray and green? him. We had a few words together.” “It is my padre’s wish,” murmured the girl, “that I give Gonzales my hand.” “Give it to him, sefiorita, but double it and let him ie the weight of your small knuckles. He is muy malo, _“Caramba!” flashed the girl) and. stamped her foot. “Do I not know? It is not Gonzales, the hacendado, but Tadeo, the vaquero, I would marry. Yet my padre in- sists on Gonzales. What would you do, sefior?” “Vd do what I pleased and let my respected father go hang. In these affairs of the heart, sefiorita, the girl is the one that’s to be suited.” The girl struck her small hands together ecstatically. “Then you will help me?” “How am I to help you?” Nes, L saw NEW BUFFALO. .Chick Chick was waiting at the cottonwood. f BILE AV ERE 13 Tadeo is not at this baile, for if he came he would fight with the “Listen! My padre has no love for Tadeo. padre and with Gonzales. You can take me to, Tadeo; it is a long ride, but you can take me.” Pawnee Bill was drifting into deeper waters than he had supposed were before him. He knew the girl was playing a part, and that her purpose boded no good to himself. Nevertheless, he was anxious to see the :play through. Besides, in faring away with the girl on the track of the supposed Tadeo, he would be leaving behind him the house of Sebastian with all its perils. ‘Where is this Tadeo, sefiorita?” inquired Pawnee, Bill. “A long ride to the south, sefior,’ was the answer. “Could I take that long ride to the south, deliver you into the hands of Tadeo and the priest, and then get back to Poverty Flat by daybreak? If not, then Buffalo Bill will come here hunting for me—and. he might talk harshly to your respected father.” “Vou can take me to Tadeo,” declared the girl, “and get back to the Flat by sunrise.” “Buenos! But how can the flight be managed with- out Sebastian heading us off at the start? He is watch- ing me here, I take it, and perhaps his spies are even listening to our talk.” i “We are not watched, sefior, and there are no spies. My padre understands that I am to make myself agree- able, and he thinks he can keep you thus until the mo- ment comes when he and his amigos will strike.” “And what is that particular moment?” “Midnigxt—and in the patio.” “Shades of Unk-te-hee! Your father is real murder- ous. I wonder if he understands how dangerous for himself any move like that would be?” “We must be quick,” murmured the girl, “if we would succeed in getting away.” “I’m ready whenever you are. Where’s your horse?” “T will get the caballo. Go mount your own horse and wait for me in the trail.” Before Pawnee could say another word, the girl had sprung up and fluttered away from him through the lilacs. The prince of the bowie stood erect and-listened. The music of violins and guitars was pouring itself out through the open windows of the casa, and the melody drowned the rustling of the girl’s dress and the light fall of her feet. “Here’s: a fine show-down!” muttered Pawnee Bill, “I come to face mysterious enemies at a baile, and I finish by playing Cupid. It’s a rhinecaboo, of course, and I’m pretending to take the bait. But what will be the up- shot? An ambush? The girl will -be with me, so it’s hardly that. Anyhow, with Chick Chick under me, and bowie and six-shooters handily by, there’s not a danger in the Southwest that can claim me for its own. We'll see, chiquita mia!” He turned on his jingling heel and moved away to where. Mounting, he rode slowly toward the trail. Meanwhile, Lola Sebastian had fluttered away toward the adobe stable. By the high horse corral at the stable’s side she paused and trilled softly. There came a_low-spoken answer, and a man emerged from the shadows, leading a saddled and bridled horse. “All is well, Gomez,” said the girl. ‘‘Mount and ride at speed to the medicine lodge. Tell those who are there to be ready, and that I am coming with Pawnee Bill. Take the short cut over the mountain—you know it well, and there will be no danger. We will take the longer way ‘round. That will bring you to the medicine lodge half an hour before we get there. Understand?” “Si, senorita,’ answered the man. The girl talked glibly in her native tongue; and after she had finished, and had climbed into her saddle, she sat for a space watching Gomez disappear in the dark and then reappear on horseback and fade away in the dark- ness. When the man was well on his way, the Mexicana rode past the house. “Is it well, novia?” whispered a voice from a lighted window. “It is well, padre,’ answered the girl, “Gomez is on . the way, and we are starting.” 14. NEW BUFFALO “Good!” muttered the voice. : The girl rode on. The music, which had lulled, again broke forth, accompanied by gay voices and a sound cf shuffling feet. And the coil about Pawnee Bill tightened a little more! CHAPTER XE. THE MEDICINE LODGE. Pawnee Bill was smoking and singing as he rode toward the south with Lola Sebastian. Had he known what that night was bringing forth in Poverty Flat, he would cer- tainly have thought twice before taking that leap in the dark. As Buffalo Bill, however, was to start out on one trail and shift to another, so Pawnee Bill was destined to encounter surprises of which, just then, he did not dream. The girl seemed a past mistress in the art of double dealing. She played admirably her treacherous part. The prince of the bowie, knowing she had assumed: a role, observed with something like admiration the clever way she covered every detail. “Tell me something about this Tadeo,” said he, break- ing off from the song that eddied from his lips with the cigar smoke. “He’s a lucky dog, sefiorita.” “Ah,” murmured the girl modestly, “you flatter. Tadeo is a vaquero, but he is gathering a herd’ of his own. Somie day he will be rich—richer than Gonzales—then my padre will be proud of him for a son-in-law.” “So Tadeo is gathering a herd of his own, is he?” “Si, senor. A little trick with the branding iron changes an-S to a B—and B is Tadeo’s mark.” “Well, well!” exclaimed the prince of the bowie. “Your Tadeo is a fustler, I take it.” The girl laughed sibilantly. “Si, senor,’ she answered calmly, “it is as you say. He rustles his cattle; and the harder he Works, the more his herd grows.” _ “This is—er—refreshing. The Cochise cattlemen would be pleased to know how I am helping a rustler. Do you think it’s right to get a herd together in that way, chiquita ?” “It is right, sefior, for, see, it is my padre’s cattle my Tadeo takes. The S brand’ he changes to his own B.” “And he takes only your father’s cattle?” “Vhat is: all; sefor.” “And you think it is right?” “Surely. My padre said to Tadeo: ‘You cannot have Lola because you are poor. If you had many cattle, then you might have her, but, as it is, she takes Gonzales.’ So Tadeo begins to make himself rich with my padre’s cattle. If he marries me, then what is my father’s will come to me some day, and so to him. So Tadeo argues that he is merely taking his own.” Pawnee -Bill enjoyed the ingenuous remarks of his com- panion. | “But if Gonzales had married you, sefiorita,’ said he, “then Tadeo would have been but a plain cattle thief.” “T never intended that Gonzales and I should marry. Be- fore that, I would surely have killed myself; si, madre mia, I would have taken my life.” Several times the girl had looked behind, over the dark trail they had covered, and had bent her head, as though listening. “Why do you do that, sefiorita?” asked Pawnee Bill. “We might be followed,” she answered. “Would you fight for me if we were pursued by my padre and his friends?” “Of course I’d fight.” “I knew, I knew,” breathed the girl: “Buffalo Bill and his caballeros are like that—always friends of the weak.” Pawnee Bill knew that the girl was not expecting pur- suit, but that she pretended to be expecting it in order to give corroborative detail to the réle she was enacting. “Two Tongue, they say among the Pawnees,” remarked the prince of the bowie, “is everybody’s enemy and nobody’s friend.” “Why do you talk to me of this Two Tongue?” The sefiorita turned in her saddle and bent her eyes on the prince of the bowie. BILL. WEEBKLY. “The saying just came into my mind, that’s all,” an. swered Pawnee Bill. ; . “Do you think, sefior, that I talk with a double tongue?” : “Why should I? It is. your respected father I was thinking about. He invited me to his baile as a guest, and would have dealt with me as an enemy.” “That is his way when he wants revenge for a rela- tive.” Without seeming to have it as a purpose, the prince of the bowie managed to keep close to the.girl’s side. He was expecting something to happen, and felt that to be within arm’s reach of his companion might contribute to his safety. ; They were skirting the base of a mountain, following no trail and weaving in and out among giant bowlders. A dozen Mexicans could have hidden behind any one of the bowlders, precipitating an attack upon Pawnee Bill with a suddenness that would have left him scant opportunity for a successful defense. He felt sure that there would be no attack if his proximity to his com- panion made it reasonably certain that she would be in- volved in it. “Tadeo,” said the girl, “has places in the rough coun- try where he hides.” “T should think he’d have to have places like that,” said Pawnee Bill, “if he wants to keep his herd growing and, at the same time, keep his scalp.” “We are riding to one of those secret places now,” went on the sefirita. “How do you know Tadeo will be there?” “Why, sefor, because there are times when I steal away from the rancho at night and ride there to see my novio. He waits there every night so that we may meet.” “Then my work is done as soon as I escort you to this secret place?” “It is done, sefior, as soon as I am with Tadeo.” “How much farther have we to go?” “Only around the spur, sefior.” The contour of the mountain, shadowed blackly against the night sky, bore a grotesque resemblance to a camel lying down on the desert. There were two “humps” on the crest, with an opening between which looked as though it might have been a.pass, through which a traveler could come from one side of the uplift to the other and avoid a tedious detour around the base. Below the second “hump” a small spur ran out from the mountain’s slope. It was this spur to which the girl had reference, in naming the location of Tadeo’s hiding place. “As near as I can figure it,” observed Pawnee Bill, cast- ing a critical look at the mountain’s top, “we have come around this uplift from a point directly under that cleft in the crest. We could have saved time by climbing through the notch, couldn’t we?” “You know not what you speak, sefior!” shuddered the girl. “It is a dangerous climb by day, and doubly: so by night. Many have been killed by trying that short cut over the mountain.” They turned sharply to the left in order to follow the foot of the spur. As they rounded the point of the spur, Pawnee Bill saw the black shadow of a house within a hundred feet of him. It was a one-story house and about as cheerless a habitation as the prince of the bowie had ever seen. ; “Is that the rustler’s hang-out, sefiorita?” he inquired. “Si, sefior,’ was the answer. “I wouldn’t live there, if I were you, after I became Sefiora Tadeo. The place would be liable to get on your nerves.” “Wait!” whispered the girl, halting her horse. “I will call. As soon as Tadeo comes, I will thank you and you may go.” She lifted her voice and called musically for Tadeo. The only answer she received was a chorus of coyote cries from the mountain slope behind the house. “It looks as though Tadeo wasn’t at home,” said Paw- nee Bill. ; “He must be there!” exclaimed the girl. “It may be, senior, that he is inside, but asleep. Will you go in for me and waken him?” The prince of the bowie scented danger in the sugges- tion. He did not dismount, but rode closer to the build- ing, surveying it as closely as the darkness would permit. It was built of adobe and had a door of heavy planks. He circled the walls and discovered that the ace was “without any windows. Certainly a house without windows was” a curious proposition. “Tf Tadeo is asleep in there,” called the scout, riding around the corner of the house and toward the door, “then it’s a cinch he’s smothered to death. I don’t ad- mire his judgment in selecting a poe like this for a hang- out.” He leaned from his saddle ond drummed on the door with his knuckles. The hollow interior echoed the pound- ing thunderously. ‘There was no response to the summons. “He must be there,” cried the girl; there.” She tossed the reins over her horse’s head and ee down from the saddle “Going in, sefiorita 2” inquired Pawnee Bill.) “Tam not afraid,” she answered. “li you will let me take one of your revolvers ie He had no intention of letting her take one of his weapons. He might need all his hardware for his own defense, for the queer situation was getting queerer all the time. “I'll do better than that,” place with you.” Dropping his own reins over Chick Chick’s Lead, the prince of the bowie dismounted. Revolver in hand he placed himself at the girl’s side, then kicked open the plank door with his foot. Blank darkness opened before them. the house was as dark as a pocket. The girl stepped across the. threshold. moved forward with her. / Suddenly the door slammed. This was’ followed by a pistol shot. After that there was silence, as deep and impenetrable as before Pawnee Bill and the girl had eh- tered the adobe. said he, “for I'll go into the The interior of “Pawnee Bill ‘The minutes passed. Chick Chick shifted around’ rest- - lessly, sniffing the air and no doubt wondering why his master did not return, Possibly a quarter of an hour later two figures came walking briskly toward the house and the horses from the foot of the slope. One of them was Lola Sebastian, and the other was an armed Mexican. Without a word the girl bounded lightly into her saddle and galloped back around the spur. The armed Mexican took Chick Chick by the dangling reins and led him off toward the mountainside behind the cabin. CHARTER x yT. THE SCOUT’S ENIGMA. Buffalo Bill and Cayuse, piloted by Lone Dog, rode for three hours through the hot sun. Lone Dog carefully avoided all trails. He explained that ‘he was afraid of being seen by some of the red raiders guiding their enemies toward the medicine lodge. If any of the raiders should happen to see him, Lone Dog explained further, then the hand of every member.of the gang would be turned against him, and he would find himself in more trouble than the beaverskin medicine could ever get him out of. The ‘three horsemen came toward Camelback Moun- tain from the east.. They reached the spur that jutted out from the mountainside under the notch, and, just as Pawnee Bill and Lola Sebastian had done almost a dozen hours “before, they skirted the base of the spur. Lone Dog, however, halted before they reached the point of the little bridge. i “Mebbeso raiders see Lone Dog if he go on,” said the redskin, “Pa-e-has-ka find um medicine lodge on other side little hill, Give um medicine now and Lone. Dog vamose.” “You'll get your medicine, Lone Dog,” answered -the scout, “when I make sure you have -brought- us-to the right place.” 99 “T am sure he is’ foe NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. , 15 Digging into his war bag he eae out the beaverskin pouch and handed it to Cayuse. ‘Keep possession of that, Cayuse,” the sou went on, “until I investigate a little around the end of ‘the spur. We'll make sure Lone Dog has carried out his part of the contract in good faith before we let him get away from us.” ‘“Wuh!” muttered the Piute boy, laying the medicine bag across the withers of his horse and dropping a hand in which he gripped a revolver on top at at, “Keep to this side.of the spur,’ the scout went on, don’t let Lone Dog lose your eyes for a minute.” Lone Dog's hungry erie was on the medicine bag, “but the revolver and the. determined look,in the’ little _Piute’s eyes reconciled him to the situation. “Pa-e-has-ka find um medicine lodge muy pronto, grunted, Lone Dog. “Him no go inside till. him come ond ad -. back, tell. um Piute give um beaverskin to Lone Dog, huh?” “When I come back and report,” get your medicine.” Without pausing further, he rode to the end of the spur, drew rein, and peered cautiously around. He saw a small adobe house, one. story in. height, and with a plank door. The door was. shut, and there was no sign of life about the spot. The scout rode farther around: the end of the spur; then, drawing rein again, he pulled the front of. his hat brim down to shade. his eyes and swept a keen glance over the vicinity of the cabin. The side of the spur and the side of the mountain formed a right angle, the points: of. which opened cut upon the flat desert. The adobe. stood in the-angle, about fifty feet from the foot of the spur and the same- dis- tance from the foot of the mountain. Huge bowlders cluttered the foot of the mountain, the sun striking sparks from the mica inerusted in their sur- faces. Raiders: might be hiding behind. those bowlders but the scout had not the slightest reason for think- ing so. iy Lone Dog had oa that ‘Ponca Dave and Bk Sal- vadore had come to the cabin. If they were anywhere, they should certainly be inside the adobe, Again the scout’s sharp eyes inspected. the building. He was quick to observe the absence of windows, At a distance, he rode around the house, thinking there might be openings in the other. walls. But there were none. ie “It’s a.house of mystery, and no mistake,’ he. mut- tered. “No windows! dn a country as hot as. this the interior. must be stifling. And there’s no sign of water! Why should any one build a ’dobe in such a waterless ace: There’s no. mineral in the mountain—the Eon aeeans prove that—and gold is the only excuse for putting up a house in such a place as this, If Ponca Dave built. it for a rendezvous—but, then, Ponca Dave didn’t build it. Those walls look to me as ancient as the walls of the red house at Casa Grandé—and_ they were there when the Spaniards first came to the country, hundreds of years ago. The walls, although perfectly intact, were battered and scarred and stained “by time, The excuse for the ruin Casa Cucdy was to be found in the remains of old acequias which had once conducted water to the desert; but here there were no remains of acequias, and evidently no reservoir from which water could be drawn. Puzzled, the scout approached nearer the front of the house, Then, for the first time, he discovered that there was something swinging from the door. Slipping to the ground and running an arm through the looped bridle reins, he walked toward the entrance. The rays of the sun,, falling upon the door, struck. a bright gleam from the handle of a knife embedded in the planks.. Over. the knife» handle was hung a coiled reata. . ae But this was not all. rudely printed, were the words: Dair:! i ett . i : The scouts bewilderment increased. The door of that- ancient house was certainly modern. The planks showed said the scout, “you'll ? Over the blade and the rope, “Come. in—if you NEW BUFFALO iB the marks of the steel teeth that had whipsawed them out of the tree trunk. Ponca Dave, the scout reasoned, might have made and hung the door, but the rest of the adobe had been con- structed by hands that had long since moldered to dust. Something about the bowie knife in the door struck the scout as familiar. He gave it, and the rope, closer attention, and knew there was no mistake. Pawnee Bill’s bowie and reata! What mystery was here? Buffalo Bill started back, astounded, his eyes on the rudely printed words. It was a staggering problem that confronted the scout. The prince of the bowie had’ gone to Sebastian’s. baile. He had expected trouble—in fact, it was the wuncer- tainties of the call at Sebastian’s that had made its appeal to him. Pawnee had not returned by sunrise, as he had said he would, and that proved that he had encountered difficulties he could not surmount. But how was it that his knife and reata were here, on the door of Ponca Dave’s “house of mystery?” The scout, wrestling with the enigma, allowed his mind to return to the conversation he had had with Nomad regarding. Cactus Blossom. The half-breed girl was a relative of Sebastian’s, and Sebastian, with some one else at his rancho, had helped Cactus Blossom plan the aid given so successfully to Ponca Dave and Black Sal- vadore. . : Had Pawnee Bill been captured, or dealt with in some worse manner, at Sebastian’s place? How else could the prince of the bowie’s Price knife have been placed in the position in which the scout now saw it, and his reata hung from the handle, unless disaster had overtaken the man ‘from No Man’s Land? From these preparations, and from the lettered words on the door, it seemed to the scout as though his enemies had been expecting him at the house of mystery. Those words, “Come in—if you Dair,” placed over emblems that indicated trouble for Pawnee Bill, were plainly a dare for his pards. 3 - The “invitation” to enter, coupled with its threat, was on a par with that other bid that had been sent to the prince of the bowie. q What was there about this small adobe house, of an- cient origin, that could offer danger? There was little room in it for mysteries of a dangerous. kind. Unven- tilated, as it was, the air inside must have been like that of a furnace. Why had Ponca Dave picked out such a place for a rendezvous? : The scout’s eyes dropped to a well-beaten path that led to the door. This seemed to indicate that, in spite of the adobe’s inhospitable appearance, it had been used extensively. _ The scout, as he allowed his gaze to wander along the path, saw fresh hoofmarks in the earth. They had been made by shod hoofs. Easily he disen:angled the prints from those left by Bear Paw. One set of marks encircled the house, close to the wall. Coming back to the front again, they showed where the horse had stood and pawed restlessly. From that point the hoofprints went off toward the slope of the mountain, preceded by marks of boot soles that indicated that the horse had been led. The. other horse had gone gallop- ing toward the point of the spur. All these discoveries only bewildered the scout more, instead of doing anything to clear the mystery. _ He started to follow the trail left by the led horse, but he had not proceeded far before the trail ran into rocky ground and faded. - Coming back to the front of the house again, he took up his original position and resumed his study of Paw- nee Bill’s knife and bowie, and the printed words. Was a band of red raiders inside that stuffy house, waiting for him to enter? p His natural impulse was to draw a revolver, throw “open the door, and leap inside, discounting danger by his quickness. On second thought, however, he decided that he should proceed more carefully. Pawnee Bill’s safety might depend upon him, and to make one rash, ill-advised move would perhaps spell de- struction for both his pard and himself.” eae BILL WEEKLY Yet, if he did not throw open that baffling door, how was he ever to learn what was on the other side of it? As he stood pondering, listening for some sound within that would tell of lurking foes, he heard a’shot on the other side of the spur. Here was an alarm which was tangible and clearly understood. Cayuse was having trouble. He would in- vestigate that, and later give his attention to the, medicine lodge. “He turned to step away from the door and remount his horse. At that precise moment the top of the heavy door was thrown outward, striking upon the scout’s head and shoulders, hurling him to the ground. Bear Paw, with a frightened snort, leaped backward, tearing the looped reins off the scout’s arm. A pall Buffalo Bill lay without sound ‘or movement. had dropped over his senses and left him helpless in the hands of his foes. CHAPTER xii. PRISONERS IN THE ANCIENT REFUGE, The scout opened his eyes in pitchy darkness. His head ached with the blow from the falling door, and he was several momenis rallying his senses to the point where they had recently left him. He stirred a little and lifted sa hand: to his’ head: “Necarnis!” muttered a voice. “Great Scott!” exclaimed the Pawnee?” “No one else, Pard Bill. Shades of Unk-te-hee, but this is a fine Situation for the king of scouts and the prince of the bowie. We're right royally kiboshed, much as | hate to admit it. Call me a greaser, though, if | -wasn’t surprised when they lowered you down here! Where did you. come from, anyway?” _ The scout felt as though he had not yet secured a firm grasp on his reasoning powers. He lay quiet for a few minutes, and then sat up. “You're as much of a surprise to me, pard,” said he, “as 1 am to you.. Where are we? In the house of mys- tery?” “It’s a house of mystery, all right,” answered Pawnee Bill. “The: adobe doesn’t cover much surface ground, but it runs down pretty deep. That house is built over a hole in the desert, and when you walk in you step over the brink of a slide in the dark. When you're at the bottom of the slide, you’re not in a condition to do much of anything to help yourself. At least, necarnis, that’s how I figure it. I’ve been several hours working it out. I was lonesome, and that’s all I had to do. But tell me about yourself, and how you happen to be here.” The scout dropped into the recital at once. As he went over past experiences, beginning with the escape of the two raiders from the Poverty Flat jail, his mind cleared as he took a fresh grip on the details. Pawnee Bill gave his entire attention, and was vastly impressed. “Necarnis,” said he, when the scout had finished, “that half-breed girl ought to have a prize! There is some- thing distinctly humorous in the way she used the Ladies’ Aid Society and three of the Cochise cattlemen to get that stuffed turkey to the.two prisoners. As for the rest of it—that about the lost medicine bag and the way you dickered with Lone Dog for piloting you to this place— it lays a little over anything I ever heard before. Just what happened to you after you heard the shot on the other side of the spur?” “T’m a little in doubt as to that,” returned the scout, “but I’m under the impression that the door of the adobe was thrown outward, and that I went down under it. After that there was a blank, and I came out of it to find you. They've got my guns)” he added, his hands groping over his belt. _ They. wouldn’t have lowered you down here, necar- nis, until they had made sure of your weapons. But there’s some excuse for you, and not much for me. [| was expecting trouble, when I dropped into this bag of tricks, but you lost out because of that double-acting door at the entrance to the medicine lodge.” > While I’m getting back into normal condition, Paw- nee, suggested the scout, softly fondling the bruised place scout, °° “is. that’ you, a a i oa ees NEW BUFFALO at the back of his head, “you might improve the time by letting me know how you happen to be here.” The prince of the bowie told of his brief experience at the baile, and of his attempt to get a line on Sebastian by taking the bait flaunted before his eyes by the Mexi- cana. “T hadn’t a notion what that girl was trying to do,” declared Pawnee Bill, “but I just gave her all the rope she wanted. Of ‘course, if I had known that Ponca Dave and Black Salvadore had made that get-away from the jail, very likely I’d have proceeded differently. But I didn’t know that. I understand, now, that Lola Sebas- tian told the ruth when she said that her father and his crowd wanted to even up with me for what. had hap- pened to Salvadore. “She only told that much of the truth, though, in order to inveigle me into a place where I could be dealt with without leaving too many evidences behind. Jf I had mysteriously disappeared during the baile, the sheriff and others would have come to Sebastian’s looking for me. If the sponging out had been done at Sebastian’s, some- thing might have been founda that would have proved disagreeable for Sebastian. So I was brought here. “The sefiorita tried to get me to enter the adobe alone, and look for the mythical Tadeo. But I was wary, and hung back. When she started in, I couldn’t see much danger in entering the house at her side. That's where I made my mistake. As soon as we were past the door, it slammed shut behindsus. Then some one gave me a push from behind. I had time to fire—a blind: shot in the dark it was—and then I toppled forward, struck a smooth slope, and slid like lightning downward. I landed with a thump that left me as senseless as you were, and when I regained consciousness I was in this place, minus the twin destroyers and the Price knife. “We're in a hole, necarnis, and affairs outside are in an altogether unsatisfactory condition. Nomad and the baron are trailing along toward Sebastian’s, and they will prob- ably have their hands full when they get there. As for Cayuse, probably Lone Dog made a jump for him in order to secure the beaverskin pouch, and the boy fired. Little Cayuse, I take it, will be the only one who comes out of this shake-up with anything like flying colors. For once in my life, Pard Bill, I’m considerably de- pressed.” y ae “There’s no use being depressed,” said the scout. “Were neither of us on the retired list, Pawnee, and while we have the use of our hands and our heads we'll do what we can to make things interesting for our cap- tors. Have you tried to find out what sort of a place we're in?” “T’ve used all my matches investigating. If you have any fire sticks in your pocket, strike one.” The scout discovered that his matches had not been tampered with. He scratched one of the sulphur splin- ters over the rock floor, and, as it flickered into a steady glow, he looked around him. What he saw was far from cheering. A sheer wall, circular in shape, arose on every side. Perhaps it was fifteen feet in height—the glow of the match did not illuminate the pit sufficiently for him to form any accu- rate estimate of the height of the walls. They were straight up and down and smooth. This precluded all hope of scaling them without a ladder, or a rope let down from above. cae The pit was about twenty feet in circumference. Above it was a pall of impenetrable darkness. _ “You say,” remarked the scout, “that the adobe house sets over a hole in the desert, and that the extensive part of this rendezvous is subterranean?” _ “That’s the way I’ve figured it out, necarnis,” answered Pawnee Bill. ‘“The adobe house is simply a blind for these underground workings. 1 suppose, from the ¢x- periences I have gone through, that there’s a strip of level ground just inside the door of the adobe; then, I think, there’s a slide, with more level ground at the. foot of it. After that comes this pit. I must have been lowered into it just as you were, one of the greasers or reds coming down to remove the rope. But all that hap- pened while I was locoed, and unable to realize what was going on. “When you were lowered, I was ordered to. cast off , BILL WEEKLY. 17 the rope. I tried to climb the rope, but the whelps shot at me. Then, in order to stave off the fate the raiders seemed bound to hand out to the two of us, I obeyed orders.” “This can’t be an old mine,” mused the scout. “Hardly, necarnis. It’s a natural formation—something of a natural freak, but old as the hills. It has been used, too, centuries before Ponca Daveé’s time. Strike another match and come this way.” The scout, scraping another fire stick on the rocky floor, moved across the pit and halted at his pard’s side.: “There,” said the prince of the bowie, laying a finger on the wall, “read that. It was carved there a long time ago, but it hasn’t been subject to wind or weather, and is as plain as the day it was chiseled.” The following, neatly carved in the stone, was what met the scout’s eyes: “Aqui estaba el Gen. Dn. Do. de Vargas, quien con- quisto.a nuestra Santa Fe a la Real Corona todo el Nuevo Mexico a su costa, aio de 1692.” Which, translated, made the following: “Here was the General Don Diego de Vargas, who con- quered for our Holy Faith and for the Royal Crown, all the New Mexico, at his own expense, in the year 1692.” The match dropped from the scout’s fingers and he drew back and leaned thoughtfully against the wall. “Pawnee,” he remarked finally, “in the old days, when _ the Spanish conquistadores were subduing the country, they had frequent refuges on the trail between the City of Mexico and Santa Fe, where, if any party was at- tacked by an overwhelming force of Indians, they could secrete themselves or find holding ground for a fight. Unless I’m far wide of my trail, pard, this rendezvous of Ponca Dave’s is one of those ancient refuges. The adobe over the refuge is of ancient construction, and that writ- ing on the wall tells its own’ story.” “We're prisoners, then, in a hole in an ancient refuge of the Spaniards,” said the prince of the bowie. “It isn’t much of a refuge for us, though, for it’s plain we were dropped into this pit to starve to death at our leisure. And when we’re done for, our fate will be a sealed book, so far as our friends are concerned.” “T suppose,” returned the scout, “that that’s the way of it. Did you see’ anything of Ponca Dave, or Black Salvadore, while I was being lowered into the pit?” “T saw nothing of either of the scoundrels.” The scout, in thrusting a hand into his pocket to look for more matches, inadvertently drew something out that fluttered to the floor. He struck a match to see what it was, and the square of white cloth, taken from the beaverskin pouch, appeared before him, diagram side up. “What's this?” demanded Pawnee Bill, dropping down on his knees and staring at the rough diagram. “Something that came out of Lone Dog’s medicine bag,” answered the scout.. “I don’t think it amounts to any- thing, pard, although I did have a notion it might prove valuable.” “By the sacred O-zu-ha!” gasped the startled Pawnee Bill. “Call me a greaser, necarnis, if I don’t believe this is a diagram of the adobe, up above,\and of these under- ground workings. By Unk-te-hee, I’m sure of it!” The scout was surprised—not that Lone Dog, who was one of the raiders, should have such a diagram—but that the thing should turn up at that critical moment. CHAPTER XIV. WITH THE HELP OF LONE DOG’S “MEDICINE.” “It may be you're right, Pawnee,” said the scout. “T know. I’m right, Pard Bill. Unless that crack on the head has played. havoc with your wits, you'll know it, too, in a brace of shakes. Drop down here beside me and keep the matches going.” The scout, on his knees at his pard’s elbow, held the matches over the diagram while Pawnee Bill ran his finger over the lines. ; ( fe “That oblong square,” said the prince of the bowie, “‘is the ground plan of the adobe. There’s the door, see? This line, entering the\door and curving and angling off: to the edge of the cloth, must be a guide for, getting through the workings. 18. NEW BUFFALO “We come in the door, like that, then we meet a slant—that slant, of course, is the slide. Down the slant we go to the level space at the bottom, then across and to the right. Now, by the sacred smoke, what does that other line mean offshooting from the main one? It has quirks: and dips, and finally comes back into the main line again.” “That second line,” profoundly interested in the diagram, ' this pit.” “But it gets out of the pit again and joins on to the principal line, necarnis !” “Exactly. ‘That circle is the pit, and the line comes into it. I reckon that’s plain enough. ‘There must be a way out of the pit, and that line probably affords the clew. There’s a cross where the line crosses the pit and touches the opposite’ wall.” “We'll settle this right here,’ declared the prince of the bowie, jumping up. “Tf that cross means a way out, well get to the bottom of it.” “Move to the right.a little, Pawnee,” directed the scout, studying. the diagram as he conned his pard’s course. “Phere,” he added, noting critically the position taken by Pawnee Bill, “right in front of you ought to be the place where that cross is marked on the diagram.” “Nothing here,” announced the prince of the bowie dis- consolately. “I wasn’t expecting to find a grand stair- case, but I did hope for a row of iron pegs. T Hold up, hold up!” he suddenly added. ‘“Here’s something— mud, or I’m a greaser!—mud, filling flush with the wail, as neat a handhold as was ever gouged from rock. Why, pard,” chuckled Pawnee Bill, “there are footholds and handholds, caryed for our benefit all the way up and plastered over to fool us. I wish I could meet this Lone Dog and do something for him. Shall we climb?” “Let's get the rest of the map: firmly impressed on our minds first,” answered the scout. “We want to know where to go, pard, when we reach the top ofthe pit,” “An-pe-tu-we !” “We want to get the route so clear in our minds,” the scout continued, “that we can go over it.in the dark. The fire sticks aren’t going to last much longer.” ‘Eet's: get busy, then, and lose no more time.’ Returning to the little square of cloth, Pree Bill sank to his knees again and gave it his attention. “It’s at the top of the pit,’ said. he, “that the second line moves to the right and joins the main route. After that.there seems to be a straight shoot to another. in- cline, or to a change in-the course; then, so on and off the map.” “Off the map! “Quien sabe?” “Perhaps,” reflected the scout, “the line, entering by the door of the adobe, leads to another exit from the refuge.” “Buenos! That’s a bull’s-eye shot, and [ll gamble.my spurs. Those old Spaniards, necarnis, had more than one way for getting out of these workings.” suggested the scout, by that time ‘comes down into And where can that be?” “We'll proceed on that supposition, anyhow,’ said the scout. “Have you got the map fixed in your mind, pard?” }?? Clear. as a chalk mark! “Then we'll begin’ to climb.” The climbing was done in the dark. Pawnee Bill, hav- ing located the chiseled holes.in the wall, went first, groping upward and pushing his fingers through the sandy muck that filled. the hand holes, and hunting with the toes of his boots for the holes below. The scout, following closely, used Pawnee Bill’s feet for guides, ehpeie his fingers into a niche the moment the prince of the bowie withdrew his toes. So, in the heavy gloom, the pards scaled the wall of their prison, profiting by the “medicine” taken from Lone Dog’s beaverskin pouch. Perhaps ten. minutes. after leaving the bottom of the pit, the pards scrambled over the brink and upon a sur- tace ot, level rock: “A. turn to the right now,” whispered the ‘oat “Be as quiet as possible: Pawnee, for there’s no telling where- well find the raiders.” BILL WEEKLY. * ( “Mium’s the word,” hand; compadre.” They moved to the right carefully, and found them- selves on the long level “which led either to a turn in the route or to an incline, They were in a passage—a bore cracked euner in some primeval throe of the earth’s crust. The wall they followed ran straight and was a safe guide. Before they had proceeded far, the glow of a distant light struck on their eyes and a mumble of voices reached their ears. “Shades of Unk-te-hee!” grumbled the prince of the bowie; “there’s the gang, necarnis, planted squarely be- tween us and freedom. Now what? I don’t believe we could get out through the adobe in a thousand years. More than likely we'd break our necks trying it in the dark. 4 “Down on. your knees, Pawnee,” whispered the scout, “and crawl forward. We'll size up the situation at close quarters and figure out our chances. Keep close to the wall.” Pawnee Bill still wore his jingling hat. Removing it, he. crushed it into small compass and stowed it in the front of his jacket. His spurs were also noisy, and he unbuckled them and pushed them into his pockets. After that his forward progress was as silent as the scout could wish for. As the light grew, and the sound of the voices in- creased, the creeping pards gathered that the passage ahead widened into a chamber of some proportions, and that the raiders. were in this chamber. The talking was in Spanish and Apache, but guarded as to tone, so that the pards could not distinguish what was being said. Reaching the place where the walls of the chamber. broke away from the passage, they peered cautiously around the rock angles. What they saw was surprising. Resting on a blanket on a stone bench, in the center of the chamber, was the form of Ponca Dave. The form was stark and rigid, and in the ghastly glow of half a dozen candles it was not diffeult for the pards to see that the leader of the raiders was dead. Undoubtedly, the scout thought, a piece of flying débris, during the explosion in the jail, had caused a.’ mortal wound. Ponca Daye had lived to reach his old rendez- vous, but must have succumbed very soon afterward. Near his dead leader, candle in hand, stood Black Sal- vadore. A grim, stony look was on the visage of the half-breed. The scout’s eyes, dropping to Salvadore’s waist, saw there his own belt and weapons. Seven redskins and two Mexicans were squatted on the stone floor, near the bench and its gruesome burden. As the pards watched the strange scene, Black Sal- vadore drew back, waved his candle, and gave a command. One of the Mexicans. and one of the Indians got up and proceeded to. lift the edges of the blanket and to wind them about the still form of the ‘raider. At another ’command from Salvadore, the remaining Mexican and another Indian got up. The four lifted the blanketed form and bore it toward an incline at one side of the chamber. Black Salvadore remained behind with one of the red- skins; the rest followed the bearers of the body. Five. lighted candles were left in the chamber, sput- tering around the bench. Black Salvadore and the In- dian seated themselves on the bench, their backs “toward the pards, and talked gutturally and in low voices. Buffalo Bill slipped close to the sidé of the prince of the bowie. a ‘“Salvadore has° my. guns,” he Indian with him has yours. The rest have gone to bury Ponca” Dave. While they’re away, pard, we have a chance to do something.” ‘ “Aye, murmured Pawnee Bill, “and it’s a chance, as you might say, made to order. There aré only two there on the bench, they have our guns and their backs are towatd us. What more could we ask?” ““No more. If: you're ready, come on!” While the two raiders talked, and perhaps laid their plans for a new leader and: fresh lawlessness, the- pards crept toward them, noiselessly as serpenis. A coiled reata lay across the course taken by Pawnee was the answer. “Give me your whispered, “‘and that ns pee, am NEW BUFFALO Bill. Fortune, it appeared, was literally showering her favors upon the pards, for the reata was one of Pawnee Bill’s. The prince of the bowie marked it with inward satisfaction and crept on. © When close to the stone bench, the scout paused behind Black Salvadore, and the prince of the bowie behind. the Indian. The scout signaled with his hand. The next instant strong arms had closed about the two raiders, and they “were thrown from the bench to the floor. Each of them fought desperately and tried to shout an alarm, but tense fingers gripped the raiders’ throats and prevented outcry. CHAPTER XV. AT CLOSE QUARTERS. In that hand-to-hand struggle the advantage was all on the side of the two pards. While the scout struggled with Black Salvadore, the Indian abruptly brought his. battle with Pawnee Bill to a finish. The redskin was a powerfully built man and half rose under the weight of Pawnee Bill’s body. With a quick heave, however, the prince of the bowie overset the fel- low, and his head crashed against the edge of the stone bench. The Indian dropped like a stone and lay motionless on the rocky floor. “That’s one for what I got, going down your blooming slide,’ growled Pawnee Bill, lifting himself and staring at the Indian to make sure he was not shamming. Having reassured himself, and appropriated the belt and guns which the redskin had evidently claimed for his own, Pawnee Bill hurried to help the scout with Black Salvadore. é “T’ve got my reata, Pard Bill,” panted the prince of the bowie. “Then tie his hands with it, Pawnee,” said the scout. “We'll leave his feet free, for he will have to travel with USt The rope wizard was choice of his reatas and did not care to use them, for tying refractory prisoners. In a case like the present, however, he bowed to necessity. Between them the pards succeeded in getting Salva- dore’s hands bound securely at his back with one end of the reata. This was accomplished while the scout con- tinued the pressure at the captive’s throat with one hand. and assisted Pawnee with the other. “Now a gag,” said the scout. The prince of the bowie chuckled as he drew a square of white: cloth from his pocket and twisted it into a> rope. “We'll gag him with Lone Dog’s diagram,” he laughed. “It has been good medicine for us, and I think it will do the business for Salvadore.” The gag was slipped between the half-breed’s jaws and the two corners knotted at the back of his neck. : “Hold a gun on him, pard,” requested the scout, “while I get my belt and guns.” Pawnee Bill handled a revolver with his right hand and wrapped the loose end of the reata about the other. Buffalo Bill, with a feeling of intense satisfaction, se- cured his belt and buckled it around his waist. __ The prisoner was still on the ground, lying on his back and glaring malevolently up into the faces of the pards. “Salvadore,” said the scout, juggling one of his army Colts in his hand, “for a very little I would shake a load out of this gun. Don’t give me the opportunity, that’s all. Get up and lead the way out of here. What's more, don’t hang back—it won’t be healthy for you.” There was an edge to the scout’s voice, and it must have cut the half-breed’s sulkiness to the quick. He got up and started toward the incline, two revolvers cover- ing him as he walked, and Pawnee Bill clinging to the end of the reata. The slope at the side of the chamber led upward. As the pards climbed it with their prisoner, daylight grew until they came out into a small basin, open to the sky and bordered with big bowlders. : A surprise awaited them there, too, for nine saddle horses were tethered in the basin—one of them being BILL WEEKLY. 19 Chick Chick. Saddles and bridles were on all the horses, | and under Chick Chick’s stirrup leather the prince of the bowie, to his delight, saw old Spitfire looking at him over the edge of the rifle case. : When luck turns,” commented Pawnee Bill, “she just naturally outdoes herself. I'll take Chick Chick, necar- nis, and you can requisition one of the other mounts. We'll let Salvadore pick out his own horse, and we'll tie him fast to the brute.” “Sharp’s the word, pard,” said the scout. “The rest of the raiders are likely to show up here, at any minute. We must be out of the way before that happens.” “We will be!” declared the prince of the bowie, with - conviction. “Luck has taken a turn for the better, and will throw everything our way.” |. They hurried with their preparations, binding the pris- oner to his horse and the horse to Chick @hick, and the scout cutting the most likely looking animal out of the horses that were left. There was a well-defined bridle path leading between the bowlders and out of the basin. Pawnee Bill took the lead, towing the prisoner’s horse, and the scout brought up the rear to make sure the prisoner offered no re- sistance. The basin was cut into the slope of the mountain, directly back of the old adobe, and some twenty feet from the desert level. As Pawnee Bill emerged from the bowl- ders and out upon the slope, a chorus of yells came from a distance. “They’ve sighted us, necarnis!” roared the prince of the bowie. “Start Salvadore’s horse—we'll have to make a run of it.” Buffalo Bill leaned forward and yelled and struck the led horse with the palm of his hand. The animal jumped 99 ! ‘forward, and all three of the horses went tearing down the slope at a run. Revolvers began their merry music, but the firing was a on the part of the raiders, and the range was too ong. Looking over his shoulder, the scout saw the burial party farther along the slope. They had just finished their work, it seemed, when they caught sight of Pawnee Bill. Every member of the party was in full cry, but a foot race promised but poorly with the pursued pards mounted and sliding toward the desert at a gearing gallop. The raiders ceased firing, and, quite sensibly, changed their course, with the basin and the horses for their goal. “Ride your best, Pawnee!” shouted the scout. “We want to save this prisoner at all costs!” “We'll save him, compadre,” flung back the prince of the bowie. “My spurs are in my pockets, but I dont need them with Chick Chick. If that gang of reds and ‘greasers overhauls us between here and Poverty Flat, then you can mark me up as a mighty poor prophet.” They were close to the point of the spur when the pur- suers began flickering over the edge of the basin and down the mountainside. “Whoa!” yelled Pawnee Bill suddenly, throwing him- self back on his reins. Chick Chick sat down in the sand and the led horse came within one of running over him and his rider. “What's to pay now?’ demanded the scout, checking the animal he was riding. “Between two fires, necarnis,’ was the other’s cool re- sponse. “I guess we'll have to take to the bowlders.” The patter of hoofs from behind faded into another sound of galloping from around the spur. The scout was picking out the most convenient bowlders for a last stand when Nomad shot around the point of the spur on Hide Rack. After him came the baron on his Toofer mule, and behind the baron, neck and neck with Mor- timer Degard, rode Dick Oberlee. Stokes followed. The unexpected meeting of the party from town with the pards from the mountainside brought momentary silence, then a whoop of jubilation and delight from all hands. “Buffer, er I’m er Piegan!” howled the old trapper, waving his hat. “Puffalo Pill und Pawnee Pill!’ caroled the baron. “Vat you t’ink, hey? Und dey. got dot Plack Salfatore, oder I don’d know vat I know. Hoop-a-la!’ 4 NEW BUFFALO “Tust what I might have expected,” grinned Degard. “But where is Ponca Dave?” ‘Under a mound on the hillside,’ answered Pawnee Bill. “Did you-—’ “Not us,” was the answer. “He was wounded when he and Salvadore blew down the jail wall, and it was that wound that finished him.” - “Who was doing that shooting?” put in Oberlee. The scout turned in his saddle and pointed rearward. The raiders were not in evidence in that direction. Scent- ing danger, they had shifted their course and were now a moving column of dust well off across the desert. “Tet ’em flicker!” said Degard. “We’ve run our horses enough. Oberlee, go around the spur and have Cayuse come with Lone Dog and Cactus Blossom.” “Lone Dog and Cactus Blossom?” inquired the scout. “Waal, yes,” spoke up the trapper. “When the baron an’ me an’ the sher’ff an’ party overhauled Cayuse, he was holding thet medicine bag in one hand an’ drorin’ er bead on Lone Dog with t’other. Cayuse allowed he wouldn’t give up ther beaverskin pouch ontil you returned an’ reported, not ef he had ter wait er week.” “But where does Cactus Blossom come into the argu- ment, Nick?” ; ‘Why, ther baron an’ yores truly never went ter Se- bastian’s. Ye see, we overhauled ther half-breed gal on ther way thar. She put her hoss ter’a run, an’ thet ox- cited our suspicions; then, when we come up with her, she admitted she was Cactus Blossom, an’ we had her thet skeered thet she was leadin’ us ter the medicine lodge when we met-up with Degard an’ party. We all come on tergether, findin’ Cayuse lookin’ over his sights at Lone Dorg, an’ B’ar Paw, minus a rider, standing clost in an’ lookin’ some distressed. “Cayuse didn’t know what had become of Pa-e-has-ka, an’ he was plumb wild. While we was torkin’ with him, we heerd shootin’ over ther spur, left both pris’ners with Cayuse, an’ rushed this way. Ye know what we found, an’ Waal, hyar comes Cayuse, now, fannin’ his shooter an’ drivin’ his pris’ners ahead’ o’ him. Baron, let’s re- lieve ther Piute o’ some o’ his responsibility.” The baron and the trapper forthwith took charge of Lone Dog and Cactus Blossom, and Cayuse rode for e at with ea delighted “How!” and an outstretched hand. Cayuse had endured several hours of worry on the scout’s account, and Lone Dog had not proved easy to handle. \ CHARTER AMI: CONCLUSION. Everybody, prisoners excepted, dismounted and flung themselves down in the shade of the bowlders. A spirited talk followed, during which Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill went briefly over their experiences. These recitals naturally aroused interest in the house of mystery, and half the party went over to the. adobe. Pawnee Bill’s reata was found, along with his famous Price knife, under the door, which was lying flat on the sand. Very fortunately the knife was not injured, al- though it might have been broken by the weight of the heavy door had it not been made of such sterling metal. The prince of the bowie wrenched the knife free and dropped it into the empty scabbard at his. belt, and picked up the reata and hung it over his shoulder. “That’s the nearest I ever came to parting company - * with Ta-koo-wan-kan,” said he, “and it will be a mighty clever outfit of tinhorns that: ever separates us like that again.” Carefully the interior of the adobe was examined. Paw- nee Bill’s deductions were borne out in every particular, for the cabin merely covered a rent in the earth. Just within the door was a narrow level of ground, then a steep descent leading down into darkness. At the side of the slide was a flight of steps, cut into the rock. The slide measured some twenty feet, and at its lower end was another level space, with the open mouth of the pit beyond. Skirting the pit, the exploring party reached the passage, followed it to the chamber, and there made BILL WEERDY, the discovery that the Indian the pards had left behind had’ recovered. and vanished, i All the horses were gone from the basin. A visit was paid to the freshly heaped mound that hid Ponca Dave and his blasted fortunes, and then the party returned to the horses and the three prisoners. The scout, removing the gag from Black: Salvadore’s jaws, tossed it to Lone Dog. “Took at that,” said he, “and tell me where you got it 4 The Indian opened out the square of cloth and studied it grimly. Black Salvadore, who was near Lone Dog, got a good look at the diagram. The half-breed swore savagely. “That was mine!” he cried. “I missed it, an’ reckoned it had been stole’. Was you the one, ye red whelp?” “Me take um,” answered Lone Dog. “Him look like paper talk and heap good medicine; put um in beaverskin bag.” Vou didn’t know what it was, Lone Dog?” queried - the scout. “No sabe.” ‘ “Which shows, compadres,” spoke up Pawnee Bill, “how chance sometimes takes hold of events and helps out a pair of pards like Buffalo Bill and me.” The scout took the beaverskin bag from Cayuse and gave it into the hands of Lone Dog. “Vou’re not a particularly good Indian,” said the Scout,. “but a promise is a promise, and there’s your medicine. Be an honest red from now on, Lone Dog. If you'll agree to that, I’ll let you go.” “Me heap good Injun,” was the prompt answer; “no make um trouble any more.” “Then clear out!” Lone Dog stood not upon the order of his going, but, digging his moccasined heels into his cayuse, he vanished around the end of the spur. Cactus Blossom. was a comely looking half-breed, and the scout turned in her direction. “Vou tried hard to save your brother and Ponca Dave, Cactus Blossom,” said the scout, “and you came within one of making good. Who put up that scheme for you?” Cactus Blossom looked toward her brother, but he kept his gloomy eyes averted. “Me do um,” said she. “Didn’t Sebastian help?” She shook her head. “Well, Sebastian got the bomb for you, and the files, and the little steel saw, eh?” “Mebbeso.” ‘ “And Lola Sebastian wrote that invitation to the baile on the playing card, and you took it to the Spread Eagle Hotel and pushed it under Pawnee Bill’s door?” “Mebbeso.” “Then, when you had done that, you stole the turkey, ot it to that deserted shack, and dressed it and roasted it?” ’ The girl opened her eyes wide, but did not answer. Evidently she was amazed at the scout’s knowledge. “Later,” proceeded the scout, “you concealed the bomb, the files, and the saw inside the turkey and. tried three times to get inta the jail to see your brother.” ‘All same,” said Cactus Blossom. “As a last resort, you called upon the Ladies’ Aid So- ciety for help, eh?” “Call on Miss Skilo,” returned the girl. fine squaw.” A twinkle shone in the depths of Cactus Blossom’s black eyes, and a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, “Well,” proceeded the scout, “it’s. all past and gone, now. You did what you could for your brother and Ponca Dave, and your brother is once more a prisoner, while Ponca Dave has been brought suddenly to the end of his course. 1] am’going to let you go back to Sebas- Hane with a message. Will you carry it?” i) Black Salvadore, surprised at this generosity of the ee in releasing his sister, turned his moody eyes upon im. “Tell Sebastian,” said the scout, “that if he or his daugh- “No one helped.” “She’s plenty NEW, BUFFALO ter attempt again to cross trails with Cody and pards there'll be a dance of another kind at his rancho. Take off the ropes, Oberlee, and let the girl go.” - “I reckon, Cody,” demurred the sheriff, “that you're’ going too far. It was all right to let the Injun go, but this girl < : “We're not making war on. women, Oberlee,” said the scout. “But Cactus Blossom is dangerous!” “Not when there isn’t any Ladies’ Aid Society to help her,” put in. Mortimer Degard. “Let her go, Oberlee. You’re coming out of. this with plenty of credit. Buffalo Bill has earned the right to do as he pleases.” The sheriff entered no further objections, and Cactus Blossom was allowed to go. She gave her brother’ a final look, thanked the scout, and rode off around the spur at a canter. “What have you got to say before we take you back to Poverty Flat, Salvadore?” queried Oberlee. “Nary a thing,” was the half-breed’s answer. “Were you expecting me at that house of mystery?” asked the scout. ‘ “They say ye’re allers ter be expected whenever any- thin’ goes wrong with any o’ yer pards,’ said the half- breed. “That's why I pinned Pawnee Bill’s knife ter the door an’ hung his reata over it. I allowed, ef ye come, ye’d see it, an’ that ye’d try ter come inter the adobe. ' Then we'd git you, too.” "What were you going to do with Pawnee Bill and THES “Sponge ye out, so’st the raiders would hev a free hand in these parts. But what’s the use?” finished the half-breed disgustedly. ‘Three times, now, ye’ve tackled the raiders with yer pards, an’ three times the raiders hev got the worst o’ it. I’m done. Do yer wust with me, an’ I’ll swaller my medicine.” “You'll get all that’s coming to you, never fear about that,’ said Mortimer Degard. “Friends,” said Pawnee Bill, “if it’s all the same to you, suppose we start for the Flat? I had my last meal yesterday, and yesterday seems a month ago.” “T peen a leedle hungry meinseltf,”’ piped the baron. “Ye’re allers hungry, pard,” grinned Nomad. “Never seen the time when ye wasn’t. As fer me, I’d like ter come back hyar ag’in an’ go over thet ole Spanish hang- out.” “I’ve had enough of it,” said the scout. “Same here,” supplemented Pawnee Bill. “The scout and I have a pair of cracked heads—and they’re enough to keep the memory of that old hang-out pretty green for a while,” “Let's. ride,” said Degard, climbing into his saddle. “It’s after sundown. I want to get a good night’s rest, for T’m going over and pay my respects to the Ladies’ Aid Society in the morning.” Everybody mounted, and the party filed away into the gathering shadows. THE ‘END, The next story is a bully one, full of snappy adven- ture and hairbreadth escapes, and has a smile or two as well. It is founded on an unusually happy idea of Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill to befriend a mysterious tenderfoot. In return he springs a surprise on the’ two pards that gives a sudden and astonishing jolt, leads you off on an exciting trail, and makes you keen to see the finish. There are some riding stunts in this tale that fairly take your breath away. Altogether it is the sort of story that ranks as a winner. ‘The title is “Buffalo Bil’s Blockade; or, Pawnee Bill and the Tenderfoot.” Out next week, in No. 230. HOW TO MAKE A WIND PIANO. Procure some boards of dry pine, a quarter of an inch thick. Of these make the sides and bottom of a box, ten inches wide, two and one-half inches deep, and two inches shorter in length than the width of the window in which you intend to place the piano. For the ends of the box, use rather thick, hard-wood pieces, and make the top of BILE WEEKLY. 21 very fire, dry spruce wood. Afterfastening the box to- gether very carefully, buy some iron piano pins and screw them into one of the hard wood ends of the box, and into the other end drive little studs. Then purchase some piano wires, glue two bridges of hard wood on top of the box, and stretch the wire. After boring four smooth holes in the top, tune the wires. Then place the wind plano in an open window, and the wind, blowing across it, will produce really delightful music. This is a great im- provement.on the ordinary A£olian harp. BLACK MOUNTAIN RANCH; Or, Ted’s Mexican Enemy By EDWARD C. TAYLOR. _ (This interesting story began in New BuFFALO BILL WEEKLY No. 230. If you Have not read the preceding chapters, get the back numbers which you have missed from your: news dealer. if he cannot supply you with them the publishers will do so.) CHAPTER XXX. TED STRONG'S GOLD MINE, For a moment Ted stood there, getting his breath again, recovering his balance, wiping the mud and water from his face and eyes. Then he reached forward and dragged the unconscious form of Cheyenne Dick over to the bank and threw it there. He slipped off his belt and bound it round the arms of the half-breed so that there would be no chance of his making any disturbance in case he suddenly recovered consciousness. Black Bess had scrambled out of the water and was now standing on the opposite bank. The big horse, ridden by Cheyenne Dick, had recovered its footing and galloped away along the bank until it was hidden by the trees, Ted now turned his attention to the woman, who was lying beside the river. He was dripping and chilled, and was bleeding from two wounds. Then, too, he had split open the knuckles of his hand in the last blow, which had deprived Cheyenne Dick of his. teeth. He paid no attention to his own weakness or discomfort, however, but knelt down beside the wounded woman, who lay on the grassy bank. Her dress was stained in front from the blood which had gushed from her wound, and her arms hung, limp and powerless, beside her, although one hand was feebly extended toward the form of her baby when the little one stirred or cried. The dying mother was too weak to reach it, but her eyes sought it with all the tenderness of a mother’s love, and her hand made a last vain effort to touch it. The tears shone in Ted’s eyes as he bent over her. His teeth gritted together and his jaw set hard. It is safe to say that if his hand had been at Cheyenne Dick’s throat at that moment, his chances of life would have not been worth much, Ted bent over the Mexican woman, and, as tenderly as he could, raised her head on his dripping arm. He saw from the blood that the woman had lost that her life could only last a few minutes longer. He drew the handkerchief from his throat and did his best to check the flow of blood. Blanchita laid a white and feeble hand upon his arm. “Tt is no use,” she said, “I am dying. My soul goes to the blessed heaven this day. But, listen, sefior. Stop! I would speak with you--and my strength is small. I have but little time—and I have much to say.” Ted raised the woman a little higher, and bent his head lower, so that he could catch the faltering words that came from her lips. “Sefior,” she said, “you know not who I am. If you did, perhaps you would not have fought so gallantly for me and my dear son. You have failed to save my life— but—you have saved something that I value more than my own life—the life of my child. I came here seeking your life. The stiletto which I plunged—into your shoul- der—is on the ground, beside me, still red with your 22 NEW BUFFALO blood. I am the wife of your enemy, the man you put in prison, Roaring Bill. 1 came—to revenge him on you. Now Iam sorry. Now that death has laid its hand on me, 1 can see with clearer eyes. 1 can see that I was wrong, in my blind fury—and in my love—for the hus- band who was taken from me. I am glad that you still live—that I have failed in my revenge—that I die without your blood upon my soul.” Ted was surprised when he heard who the woman was. Now he began to understand the attack upon him. Blan- chita stopped and gulped feebly. There was an ominous rattle in her throat. Ted could feel her hand that lay on his as cold as ice. Twice she essayed to speak, and .twice she failed. Then her eyes grew brighter. She seemed to gain new strength. She was thinking of her child, and she wanted to, speak of it. ‘“Sefior,” she said, “my son—whose life you saved— lies beside me. I ask you—in the name of the Blessed _ Virgin—to care for him—to send him to a convent, where he may grow up a good man—knowing—nothing of his mother. Send him to the convent in Cimarron, New Mexico. My sister is there. In my dress there is money —plenty of gold to pay. Promise me—that you will do this, stranger. Promise even this to the wife of your enemy—the woman who sought your life.” Ted’s eyes were dimmed with tears. His voice was choking. He could not speak for a moment. “I promise,” he. said. ‘I will care for your son.” Blanchita looked into his eyes for a moment. Then her face changed. The look of strain and of anxiety passed away, and a great peace took its place. “Blessed Virgin, 1 thank thee,” she faltered. “I know, sefior, that you speak the truth. For those who are near the verge of death can see more clearly, and I know that, though you are a stranger from a far land, you will keep your word. If I could live—I would pray— for you. But—I am going—fast. I have—one thing— more—to say—before I go.” A terrible fit of coughing came over the woman. She shook like a leaf in Ted’s arms, blood gushed from her mouth, and for a moment she strangled. Ted held her close to him, stroked her forehead, and, when the cough- ing passed away, she lay as still in his arms as though she were already dead. But presently her eyes opened again, and she looked at Ted. : “I have one thing more to ask,” she faltered. “It is —that you—that you—bury me here—where I die, on this —ground. If you do so you will—never regret it—for you will—find here—that for which—you seek. Promise to bury me here.” “I promise,” faltered Ted. The woman closed her eyes for a moment. opened them again they were strangely bright. Her body grew rigid in Ted’s arms. “I can see the angels,” she said; “the blessed company of saints—the golden gates that open for me—the splendor of heaven. Ave Maria—ora pro nobis a Once more the fit of coughing came upon her, and so she passed away. On the day following her death Blanchita Pasquez Reyn- olds, wife of the former sheriff of Crook County, was buried in a rude grave by the muddy waters of the Yel- low River. The little son of Roaring Bill was taken to the Dunton Ranch, and was to be sent in care of a sister of Mrs. Dunton’s, who was traveling south, to the convent of Cimarron, in New Mexico. _ It was Bud Morgan who dug the grave for the Mexi- can woman, and it was Ted who erected a wooden cross over the spot where -she lay. “I wonder why she should ask to be buried here with her dying breath?” said Ted. “T dunno,” said Bud. “She knew the country here- abouts well. She useter live at the ranch house.” Ted was still weak from the effects of his struggle. The wound in his back had not been serious, but he had lost a good deal of blood from it. The stiletto that inflicted it now hung at his belt. Cheyenne Dick had When she been taken to the lockup at Crook City, and was to go to Bismarck to be tried for murder the following day. Ted sank down on the ground. “Tt’s strange,” He said, find that which I seek.” “She said that here I would BILL WEEKLY. Bud stared at him for a moment. ‘Jumpin’ sand hills!” he cried... “Thet woman was grateful fer yer savin’ her child. find thet which yer seek.” Bud bent over and scanned the- ground with eagle eyes. Beside him was a heap of earth that had been thrown up from the bottom of the grave. He bent over it and raised a few handfuls of it. : Then, with a wild exclamation, he seized a pan that lay on the ground near by and filled it with the earth. Ted knew what was in his mind now, and he stood beside Bud while he poured water from the Yellow River into the pan. _ Then he began the process of panning out, which is known to alt old miners. By degrees he allowed the water to wash the earth out of the pan until it was nearly empty. And then both Bud and Ted cried aloud in astonish- ment and delight. In the bottom of the pan there was something not to be mistaken. Something that has always sent a thrill through the heart of the man who beheld it for the first time. There were bright, glittering particles there—grains of gold. At last Ted Strong had found his gold mine! But it soon fell to the lot.of the young ranchman to learn that Fortune is capricious, and that the gleam of the yellow metal is not always to be regarded as sunshine in the lives of men. CHAPTER XX Xa. KENNEDY WINS A RACE, “Go it thar, sorrel!” “My money’s on the gray. Go it, gray!” “They're turnin’ now! The gray’s ahead! “The race ain’t over yet. stretch !” Two horses were scudding back across the prairie at a dead run toward the tavern that marked the end of Crook City. They were a gray and a sorrel. nedy was mounted on the sorrel, and a cowboy, who had recently been paid off from the Bar X Range, was on the other horse. The bunch of loungers about the Eagle Hotel were wildly excited as the two horses drew nearer. Kennedy was sitting back in his saddle with a quiet smile on his face. The cowboy who rode the gray was leaning far over the neck of his animal, doing all possible with quirt and spur to urge it along. “T tell you the gray’s all in. Ther two mile out ter thet post an’ back were too much fer her.” “She’s. ahead yet!” “But ther sorrel’s a-gainin’.” “Look at her go now. Thunder! her out a peg.” With a tremendous clatter of hoofs and a wild out- burst of yells from the spectators, the two steeds swept past the tavern with the sorrel on which Joe Kennedy was mounted a good head in the lead. They clattered off down the street for nearly an eighth of a mile before they slowed up and swung back again to the tavern. When they drew up there, both horses were pretty badly winded, and the cowboy wore a very glum face. He flung himself from the back of his horse-and threw the reins over the head of the animal, while Kennedy ee in the saddle and patted the flanks of his sorrel norse. “Consarn ther luck!” the cowboy said, pushing back his big sombrero and mopping his brow with the hand- kerchief which hung at his throat. “Dog-gone it all, any- way! I think I blowed in my money quicker thet time then ever I did in my life before.” “It’s the fortune of war, I suppose,” said Kennedy. “Tt will be my turn to lose the next time.” “Here’s the money ye won on thet sorrel of yourn,” said the cowboy, handing out a roll of bills. “I dunno what yer luck is, but it seems to be allers mine ter lose.” I win!” Here they come on the home Thet feller’s lettin’ Kennedy took the money and stuffed it into his pocket.” He half turned in his saddle and glanced at the numer- oe horses. which were hitched up before the tavern oor. She said yer would Joe Ken- ' Fogg ne eT ee Sei a ho bo, oth Yo ing any ‘I con he Posi just gray he big, awa. NL Sayil thet feel: vA So, 7 NEW BUFFALO “Anybody else want to back their luck against mine?” he inquired. “Seems like thet’s a purty good animile of yours,” spoke up another cowboy. “I don’t want to run my hoss agin’ it, but 1’ll give ye a offer fer it. Ill give ye two hundred dollars fer that beast.” Kennedy leaned back in his saddle and laughed. “No you won't, either,” he said. “I’ve woh a little on this horse to-day. This is the third horse 1 have beaten about here.” “Yes, I guess it is,’ said Speed, the landlord of the hotel. ““‘Thet sorrel o’ yourn is sure a slick article. He didn’t look ter be up ter much, either.” . Kennedy got off the back of his horse and swaggered in to the bar. “Come on, boys,’ thing on me.’ There was a general scramble to accept this invitation, and Kennedy, after paying for a round of drinks, was lord of all he surveyed so far as the barroom of the Eagle Hotel was concerned. He had come down to Crook City that morning mounted on a big sorrel horse which nobody in the town had ever seen him ride before. The horse did not look to have very much speed, and Ken- nedy had no trouble in persuading a group of cowboys, who had just been paid off from the Bar X Range, and who wete in town, trying to get rid of their money as soon as possible, to arrange a series of races between their horses and his sorrel. ; The cowmen had some pretty handy ponies among them, and had backed them heavily to win. Kennedy had a good roll of bills, and he had covered all the bets that were offered. in every race that was run. the sorrel had won by a narrow margin, and Kennedy had finished up by completely cleaning out the glum-looking cow- boy who had ridden the gray and who had backed it up with all his savings for the past three months. Ken- nedy was in high spirits and stood several rounds of drinks, boasting all the while about his horse. “I tell you what, boys,” he said, “I know a horse. [ve seen races on all the big tracks in the East. I know a horse that has speed in it. You can’t fool me on a horse.” “You fooled us all right,’ said the glum-faced cow- boy. “You won each race on a very close call, and the ethers of us thought yer hoss wasn’t as good as it Is. You was pretty foxy. But I suppose it’s ‘all right.” “Why wouldn’t it be all right?’ said Kennedy, lean- ing forward with a fierce look on his face. “Have you any objections to the way I rode?” The cowboy looked at Kennedy for a moment. The cowboy felt pretty sore. He had lost all his money, and he knew that in the previous races Kennedy had pur- posely kept his horse from showing off its best paces just for the object of inveigling him into backing his own gray. His hand moved toward his revolver, but when he saw Kennedy’s weapons, his determined face, and big, strong shoulders, he changed his mind. He turned away with a muttered oath. “T’'m not makin’ no kick,” he said. “I lost, an’ I ain't sayin’ nothin’. 1 took a-drink with you, didn’t 1? Don’t thet show thet I’m satisfied an’ thet I ain’t got no hard feelin’s >” “All right,”. said Kennedy, “I’m glad to hear you say so. Now have another drink.” “T don’t want no more whisky.” ‘Better have another drink.” The cowboy looked at Kennedy‘s face and saw. that there was likely to be a fight if he didn’t comply. Ken- nedy was drinking rather .hard himself. “All right, pardner,” said the cowboy. “I'll hev one more, jest ter show as how I’m a dead-game sport.” “That's the wisest course,” said Kennedy. “Bartender, set’em up again, Let’s have another round of the Same.” _ A suppressed murmur went through the assemblage. It meant applause for Kennedy, for everybody knew that the scene that had just transpired had given Ken- nedy the upper hand over the cowboy. It meant that the cowboy was afraid of Kennedy. Kennedy was elated y this triumphed 7 : “Anybody else here who objects to my way of run- 9 ? he said. “Everybody have some- BILL WEEKLY. 23 nin’ a tace? facey: A good many men there had lost money to Kennedy If so, let him step forth and say it to my that morning and felt pretty sore about it. But they were all afraid of Kennedy, more or fess. Nobody spoke. ; “All right, then,” said Kennedy, “let’s have another drink. Everybody step up and take another drink.” The bartender set out the botties again, and there was a tilting of glasses and crooking of elbows all along the line. Kennedy glanced about him, flushed and overbear- ing. His eye caught a figure seated off at one corner of the room. “Here!” he shouted, “what are you doing over there? Come over here and drink?’ The figure straightened up slowly and resolved itself into the lanky form of Thaddeus Perkins, better known as Bean Pole.’ Thaddeus had come down to Crook City and had dropped into the Eagle Hotel to rest for a little time out of the heat of the sun. “I don’t drink,” said he. “It’s bad for the digestion.” Kennedy stared for a ntoment before he recognized the long, slim fellow. Then he broke into a tond guffaw. “By Jove!’ he said, “it’s one of those goody-goody fellows. It’s one of the Black Mountain boys. | Step up and drink. You know me, don’t you? It’s an insult to me if you refuse to drink with me.” Bean Pole had peculiar ideas about his digestive organs, and always imagined that he was on the point of death, when, in reality, there was nothing whatever the matter with him. “Tm not drinking anything,” he much obliged to you all the same.” “Step up here and. drink,” thundered the half-drunken Kennedy, pulling out a revolver as he spoke. A gang of five or six rough fellows, among whom was Crowfoot Bill, an ancient enemy of Ted Strong and his friends, had gathered about the ex-army officer. They grinned, one and all, when they saw Bean Pole’s slim figure. “Let's have some sport with him,” said Crowfoot. “Let’s make him dance.” This was the signal for a drawing of revolvers from all, the tough customers who were hanging about Ken- nedy. He had made himself pretty solid with the rougher element in the town, and they were ready to back him up in almost any mad project he might undertake. The cowboys from the Bar X Range, and the other loungers about the place, scattered hurriedly. Many of them were. disposed to be friendly toward Thaddeus Perkins, but not one of them had the courage to interfere at the present moment, although there were plenty of brave, manly fellows in the Bar X crowd. But Kennedy and the gang .he had collected were well-known desperadoes and were ready to fight in case of any provocation. It meant a bullet for the first man who interfered. In ten seconds the saloon was empty, save for the long, slim figure of Thaddeus in one corner of it and the group of frontiersmen, with Kennedy at their head, gath- ered around the bar. “Now,” said Kennedy, “are you going to come forward and drink, or will we have to drag you?” Bean Pole reached for his gun, but six revolvers were leveled upon him at once, and the sharp command rang said, firmly. “I'm | out from Kennedy: “Keep your hands down where they belong or you'll get a little lead pill thrown into your system.” “Tt isn’t a lead pill I want,’ said Bean Pole. “What T need is quinine.” There was a roar of laughter at this. One of the roughs let off his revolver. The bullet went splinter- ing into the floor with a loud crack within three inches of Bean Pole’s feet. Bean Pole leaped about a yard into the air. with a wild yell. The bullies hanging about the bar were half drunk and reckless. There was a spluttering fire from their weapons, and the people who were listening outside for the sounds of the fracas within gave up all hope for Thaddeus. “Thaddeus had abotit given up hope himself. He felt the bullets hissing around him, and he knew that he was Ba | NEW BUFFALO in about as dangerous a situation as he had ever found himself in his life. “Wait a minute, boys,’ said Kennedy. “Don’t be in too big a hurry. This chap’s a friend of mine’—Ken- nedy smiled sarcastically. ‘‘We don’t want to act rudely toward him. He’s a friend of Ted Strong, and any friend of Ted Strong’s is, of course, welcome to our little gather- ing here.’ We don’t want to be inhospitable, and, before we let him go, we must see him swallow down a big bumper of whisky and then do a little step dancing for us.” “If Ted Strong were here you might talk differently,” said Bean Pole, -pale with fright. A “Tf Ted Strong were here I would make him do just as I am going to make you do,” said Kennedy. The last remark of Bean Pole’s struck home, and made him angry. In the past-he had encountered Ted Strong more than once, and generally he had come off second best in the encounter. - “hook mere, he -eried, im, a loud, Hard woice, "lm going to put you through a little course of sprouts. I’m going to make you drink a pint of raw whisky. If you don’t gulp it down when I give it to you, I’ll put a few bullets close enough to.you to make you howl. Then we are going to make you dance while we shoot. at your feet, and we'll finish up by tossing you in a blanket.’ Thaddeus straightened up. -He was pale and trembling, but there was a good deal of pluck in him. “You fellows are six to one,’ he said; “you can bang me around, but Till see you all dead. before I'll allow you to force any whisky down my throat. And you can be sure that Ted Strong will punish you.” “I wish Ted Strong were here now,” gritted Kennedy; “T’d just like to see him now.” “He is here!” came a clear, ringing voice. Into the door stepped the young ranchman, smiling, but with a six-shooter in either hand. CHAPTER XXXII. TED’S CHALLENGE. Thaddeus heaved a deep sigh of relief when he saw Ted enter. Although Ted stepped alone into the room he: felt comparatively safe now. As for. Kennedy and his crowd, it would have been hard to find a gang of men more badly taken aback than they were at that moment. They drew together in a frightened bunch and no one spoke for a moment. Ted had both his six-shooters leveled. He kept them mov- ing about so that each man felt that one was always pointing in his direction. Kennedy’s face had suddenly ae to an ugly, mottled white. He stammered and finally spoke. “What do you mean by covering us that way?” he asked, in a husky. voice, while he raised his own weapon again. “We were only joking with Thaddeus. We didn’t intend to hurt him.” “IT thought I heard you call for me,” said Ted, still smiling, but keeping his revolvers on the level. “Did you want to talk to me=. You surely mentioned my name a moment ago.” “I did mention it. It was only a joke I had with Thad- i aeus here, Ted’s smile vanished suddenly. “Put up those weapons!” he said sternly. ‘Put them up, every mother’s son of you! Move quickly or Til let go from both these revolvers and make this place look like a shambles.” Not a man there had ever heard Ted speak in that tone of indignation or authority before. He was thor- oughly aroused now, and they saw that he meant what he said. -Kennedy hesitated but a moment. : His hand was lifted. Then he saw Ted’s eyes looking straight into his, and one of the blue barrels pointing directly at his breast. Immediately he thrust his weapon back into his belt, “Now,” said Ted, smiling once more, “things look a little better. I heard you call for me, and I came in. So it was a joke you were playing, was. it? And you wanted me to see it, did you? Thaddeus, did you see the point of this joke?” \ BILL, WEEKLY. “Mo,” said Thaddeus, “they were going to have fun with me and make me drink whisky. That’s all I know. It might have been a joke for them, but it was no joke to me.” “T° gtiess : not,” ‘said’ Ted. Kennedy and .his followers. “Let me speak a few words of warning to you fel- lows,” he said. “I’m not looking for trouble. But when you get hold of one of my friends and try to bully him about and make him drink, I draw the line. I hope you understand.” “[ understand,” said Kennedy; “I was only playing a little joke. I meant to stop it as soon as Thaddeus showed any signs of fear. I didn’t mean it for any- thing more than a joke. I’m sorry that there has been any misunderstanding about it. I was only kidding.” “Tt was only a joke, was it?” said Ted.\. “Well, sup- pose that you beg pardon of Mr. Perkins for acting that way to him. I must confess that I’m not overfond of practical jokes myself, and I don’t think that Thad relishes them very much, either.” “You bet I don’t,’ said Thaddeus emphatically. ‘I was suffering from a congestive chill when I came in here, and I feel hot streaks running up and down my back now. Just feel my pulse.” : ‘“T don’t have to,” smiled Ted. “I know it’s all right.” “T’m sure I beg Mr. Perkins’ pardon,” said Kennedy, in a humble voice, although inwardly he was boiling with rage. “Are you satisfied?” asked Ted. “Oh, I’m satisfied,’ said Thaddeus. “The only thing that worries me is that I’m afraid I’m catching pneu- monia.” Ted thrust the revolvers back into their positions in his belt. There was a simultaneous sigh of relief from Kennedy and all his followers, while two or three of the cowboys from the Bar X. Range, seeing that the trouble was over for the present at any rate, sauntered in again. They crowded about Ted and asked him to drink with them, but Ted refused politely but firmly, and when they saw that he meant it, no one made any attempt to press him. They all looked at the young ranchman with ad- miring eyes, for he had just cowed a gang of ruffians which they had been unwilling to tackle. “Young feller,’ said one of them, “I guess as how I’m fifteen or twenty years older than you are, but you’ve got more nerve than | have. I'll say that fer ye. I wish I had yer nerve.” He turned once more to “IT guess you have plenty of nerve,” said ‘Ted, “only . you see the gentleman who was being put to inconvenience was a particular friend of mine. That makes a lot of difference.” “There wasn’t any question of having need of nerve,” said Kennedy. ‘The whole affair was a joke. Mr. Ted Strong is a friend of mine, as is Mr. Perkins.” ~ Two or three of the cowboys laughed at this evident crawl on the part of Kennedy, and received very black looks from the ex-army officer. 5 “It didn’t look very much like jokin’,’ said the cow- boy who had spoken first, “still, maybe it was. I sup- pose if that sorrel hoss of yourn had happened to. lose one of them there races this morning, when you had money on it, you would have said it was a joke and re- fused to pay up.” oy There was a general laugh at this, and it went to show better than anything else could how much.Kennedy had lost caste since Ted had appeared upon the scene. Half an hour before not a man there would have dared to speak to him in that fashion, but the fact that Ted had cowed him so readily had aroused a feeling very nearly akin to contempt for him. Kennedy knew this, and ground his teeth in impotent rage, although so far as outside appearances went, he was in the best of humor toward Ted and Bean Pole. Horse races is all right, an’ we saw some good ones here this morning,” said another cowboy. “By the way, stranger, that’s a pretty slick little hoss ye come over on. I'd like to back that horse.” : ._“T agree with you that it’s a pretty good horse,” said Ted.- “I’m willing to back it myself.” mer the exce ex-g Docl Ted almc Spee NEW BUFFALO Kennedy pricked up his ears at this announcement. He knew that the sorrel horse that he had been riding was about the fastest thing in this part of the country. He saw a chance to recover some prestige by defeating Ted in a horse race, and, besides, if he was able to win some money from him, he might feel as if he had a revenge. “Do you say that you feet like backing your horse?” he asked. « ~ “I didn’t say that I felt like backing it now,” said Ted. “I said that I would back it, of course; but I don’t know that it’s in just the best condition for a race.at present. It’s been worked pretty hard the past few days, as I’ve been kept busy with the cows on the range. Then I gave it a good canter this morning.” “lye raced my horse several times to-day,” said Ken- nedy. ‘All these fellows will tell you so.” “That’s right—he has,” chorused several voices. “You don’t need to tell. me that,” said’ Ted dryly: “I saw the horse as I came in, and a couple of the boys borrowed money from me before I got here. They told me that they had lost all their coin backing their horses against a big sorrel ridden by Joe Kennedy. It looks as if you did pretty well this morning. You seem to have cleaned out the crowd.” Kennedy looked about him in a shamefaced fashion. “I don’t know about that,” he said sulkily. ‘If you are talking this way just for the purpose of getting me into a race with you, I might as well tell the gentlemen here that it isn’t necessary. I’m quite ready to back my horse with all the money [ve got against your horse.” “T didn’t say I wanted to race my horse this morn- ing,” said Ted. Ted’s apparent unwillingness to race gave Kennedy the. idea that he was afraid. \ The ex-army officer saw the chance of winning more money, and humiliating his rival, slipping out of his reach: He determined to anger Ted a little, and force him into a race that way. “T suppose that when it comes to putting up some money and backing your horse that you don’t feel so confident about it,” he said, with a half-perceptible sneer. “You ought to have plenty of money now, since you dis- covered that gold mine of yours and took to adopting Mexican babies. How’s young Roaring Bill, junior, get- ting along?” “He’s down at a convent in Cimarron, where his mother wanted him sent,’ said Ted, “but I don’t see what that i! to do with a horse race. I don’t feel like betting to-day.” “If you are afraid to bet me five hundred or some decent sum,” said Kennedy, “just for the sake of a race, I’ll bet you, say, fifty dollars. I don’t want to rob pu I'll give you odds. I'll bet my fifty against your orty.” Kennedy laid a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. Ted looked at it in silence. “Afraid to cover even that?” said Kennedy. “Is that what’s the matter? Is the fifty dollars too much for you to cover?” “No, that’s not ,what’s the matter,’ said Ted; “the matter is that fifty dollars isn’t enough to cover my money.” He drew his hand from his pocket and laid a big roll of bills on the table. “There’s five hundred dollars. I don’t want any odds. Just cover that and I'l] ride you any race you want. And, what’s more, I'll beat you, too.” CHAPTER XXXIII. THE RACE. When Ted made this bold and surprising announce- ment, there was a cheer from all assembled that made the cobwebs shake on the rafters above. Kennedy’s bluff had been called, and everybody there, except his few immediate followers, was delighted. The eX-army man said nothing, but reached quietly into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. To cover what Ted had put on the bar it was necessary for him to put almost every cent he had into the possession of Jim Speed, who was acting as stakeholder. - He’ was seen to BILL WEEKLY. 25 He had won about four hundred and eighty dollars that morning, and his scarcity of money now showed that he had started in to make money on the horse with very little capital. As soon as the money was deposited in the Eagle Hotel safe, all hands adjourned to the porch, at the end of which the horses were tethered. One cowboy rode out to’ the stake post, which had been erected on the prairie, a mile away, and two others strung out a lariat for a starting line. The rest arranged themselves in convenient positions to see the two-mile race that was to follow, while Ted .and Bean Pole led Black Bess off. to one side and rubbed her. down a bit. Then,the heavy saddle and _ stirrups were taken off and a light English saddle, more suitable for racing purposes, was borrowed from Speed, the land- . lord, and placed on the back of the black pony. Kennedy, with his friends, were in a group about the sorrel horse, looking it over and preparing it for the race. Those who saw the two horses could .find little in favor of either, so far as appearances went. The. sorrel was the taller, and there was-no question but that it had speed and endurance. But Ted was a much lighter man than Kennedy, and, for a man of his build, Black Bess looked about as likely an animal as could be found outside of a racing stable. The sorrel had already shown what it could do, however, and the general opinion was in its favor. “All ready. there, boys?” asked a cowboy, who was seated on his horse near the starting point and had drawn his revolver. Kennedy was already mounted, holding his horse in, as as a cavalryman rides, pretty far back in the saddle. Ted, on hearing the call, vaulted into his seat and thrust his. feet into the stirrups. He had saddled well forward, as Eastern jockeys saddle their horses, and his stirrups were short, so that his knees were bent when he put his feet in them. This is not the manner of riding that is practiced in the West, by any means. In fact, for ordinary ranch riding it would be about as perilous a seat as a man could take. It is a good method, however, in a race, as it will enable a jockey to get away over the horse’s neck and get every ounce of speed there is in the horse. Ted had stripped off his heavy chaps, and was riding now in long khaki trousers and light leggings. He did not want his horse to carry an extra ounce in the two-mile race. For a moment Kennedy and he sat side by side, look- ing forward across the prairie, which was level as a bil- liard table, and the turf was good and hard, owing to the recent dry weather. “All ready?” asked the cowboy again. “T’m ready!’ shouted Kennedy. . Crack! went the revolver of the starter; down to the ground went the line, and, in as clean a start as you have ever seen, the two horses, the black and the sorrel, set out across the prairie. “They’re off!” The cry came from fifty throats as the two horses sped on. At first it could be seen that there was little choice between them. They were running neck and neck. 19? “Sorrel’s gainin’! sorrel’s gainin’!” shouted one man, jumping up and down again in a frenzy of excitement. “Took at the black, though! Look at the way she eats it up! : : “Ted ain’t usin’ no quirt, either.” “He’s a-holdin’ his hoss in.” : “Hooray! there they go! They’re near the three-quarter mile now.” ‘All at once there arose a perfect frenzy of shouts. Everybody began jumping and yelling at once. The horses and their riders were a considerable distance away, but it could be plainly seen that they were very close together. Then something seemed to happen to Ted. lurch forward in his saddle, to hold on by the mane, to be on the point of falling. “Jyumpin’ sand hills! he’s offen his hoss! I knew what would happen to him ridin’ in thet way.” as “No, he ain’t offen him, either. He’s gettin’ back in ther saddle.” 26 | NEW BUFFALO “He didn't fall thet way fer nothin’.” “Kennedy give him the foot when he got clost ter him.” “Tt’s-a durn mean trick. He's a crook, thet feller.” “He’s winnin’, though!” “He ain’t a-winnin’, either. It’s a skin game!” These were only a few of the medley of yells that went up from the group of mimers and cowboys who were peering off across the prairie. They were as wildly excited as they had ever been, and well-they might be. The horses had run abreast for almost three-quarters of a mile. Kennedy, who was a little in the lead, had crowded in on Ted as though he were trying to force him out of the course. Ted had stuck to his ground, however, and for a moment the two flying figures were jumbled to- gether in the haze and the cloud of dust cast up by the sharp hoofs of their steeds. Kennedy had shot ahead and Ted had reeled in his saddle. For a moment it seemed to every one that he had ~~fallen. For a moment more he was clinging for dear life to the mane of his horse and trying to get his feet back in the stirrups again. Then he was once more back in the saddle, but by that time Kennedy was well ahead of him and down near the turning post. “He ain't beaten yet!” “He's a plucky boy. He ain’t a-giving up. Look at him use his quirt now!” | Ted ‘was using both quirt and spur in a mad effort to regain the ground he had lost.. Kennedy was a yard and a half ahead of him. The turning post loomed up through the haze. Both horses swung around in a big circle. Black Bess, being. smaller, was able to make a shorter turn, and for a moment Ted thought, as he urged her forward, that he would get the inside again. He missed it by a hair’s breadth. The horse ridden by Kennedy had made a supreme effort and dashed in ahead of Ted. Ted had to pull back out of its. way, and, in doing so, he lost.a few yards. It was too bad, but it could not be helped. They started back on the mile-long home stretch with Black Bess a good three yards in the Tear. _ There was a silence as the two horses swung about the post, and then the watchers once more broke into howls and cheers. They could see. now that Kennedy was ahead, although for a moment, while the turn was being made, it looked doubtful. ‘“Kennedy’s got it! The race is over!” yelled one. “But the black’s a-gainin’! Ther black’s a-gatnin The voice of the man who howled this went up into a shrill falsetto with his excitement. : Ted was gaining. Now could be seen the value of his light saddle, his short stirrups, his peculiar seat. He was crouched forward over the neck of his horse as jockeys ride. He was plying his quirt and using his spurs like a madman. If you could have seen his face through the. whirling ‘dust that Kennedy’s horse left in its wake you would have seen determination shining out from every line Of at; The wind whistled around Ted’s head, the patter of the gleaming hoofs that flashed before him sounded in his ears, and the ground seemed to slip past,-as though it were a great green-and-gray carpet dragged away at dizzying speed by some giant hand. He was still gaining. He pulled out a little to the right. Now the nose of his horse was even with the tail of the sorrel. Now it was even with its haunches. Ted bent nearly double, supporting all his weight in his stirrups, letting the reins fall loosely on the neck of the plucky little black mare. “Run, Black Bess,” he whispered; “do your best now! .You’re running for the Black Mountain Ranch. Think of the fine green pastures there, and the oats that you'll eat to-night. Now, for Black Mountain!” It would almost seem as if Black Bess heard «the voice of her loved master above the sound of her hoof- 242? beats, and understood. She dashed ahead, but the sorrel’ was flying, and she could gain only inch by inch. The Eagle tavern, the crowd of spectators yelling and howling, the post that marked the end of the race seemed to shoot up out of the ground. It was only a quarter BILL WEERLY, vot a mile away now. Black Bess was blowing hard, and so was the sorrel, but the black mare was gaining. She had her nose on a line with the sorrel’s shoulder, but it seemed as if she must stick there. It was such a little distance to the end now. The black mare put forth one last effort, and there was a deafening clamor from the crowd at the tavern. Black Bess ‘had shot ahead like an arrow from a bow. Kennedy, urging his sorrel madly on, had seen the bright flash of her glittering horseshoes as she showed him a clean pair of heels. She dashed across the line vic- torious, and those who had seen the race, whether they were friends or foes of the Black Mountain boys, let out a cheer such as seldom had been heard in Crook City! The race was over, and Ted had won five hundred _ dollars. Kennedy crossed the line a few seconds later, and the two of them pulled their horses up together. Ted leaped from .the back of his mare, ran his hand through her well-combed mane, and placed his head close to hers. Black Bess understood. She knew that her master was thanking her for what she had done, and she was glad. In the meantime, Bean Pole had stripped the saddle from her back, thrown a blanket over her, and she was led into: the shade of one of the sheds. Kennedy’s horse was already blanketed, and Kennedy, with a very sour face, was standing on the porch, putting on his coat. As Ted stepped upon the porch, a dozen hands were stretched out in congratulation. He shook them all. Then he pulled on his bearskin chaps and donned his khaki jacket. a “T’ve won five hundred dollars,’ he said, “but 1 intend it to be given back to the men who lost it this morning. I don’t believe in gambling.” TO BE CONTINUED, TIMEO. DANAOS AC LAC EMULGENTES. An ingenious method of milk adulteration is practiced in Athens. The residents have a penchant for goat’s milk, and herds of these animals are led ‘along the street by milk sellers wearing long blouses with capacious sleeves. Their cry of “Gala! gala!” brings the housewife to the door, and she prudently demands that the goats shall be milked in her presence. This is done, but the milkman has in one hand the end of a thin tube, which runs up his sleeve and connects with an india-rubber receptacle full of water, which is carried under his ample blouse. At each pressure of the fingers on the udder there is a. corresponding compression of the water sack, and milk and water flow side by side into the milk pail. MATTERS OF EYESIGHT. Oddly enough, the best eyesight is found at the equator and in the vicinity of the north pole. Good eyesight is dependent upon the country, and bar- ren wastes, broken by few objects, develop a keenness of eyesight amazing to the city-bred man. An Eskimo - will detect a white fox stealing along the snow-covered waste at an incredible distance, and will discern objects where the traveler sees only a field of blinding white. The Arab of the desert is gifted with similar keen- ness of vision, and can pick out objects at a distance of from one to five miles. Of the civilized races, the Nor-_ wegian is best provided with the surroundings of good eyesight, and the city-bred man, untrained to the use of his eyes for distances of more than a few blocks, ltas the shortest range of vision of all. A country boy will see an animal at a distance of a mile, where his city cousin will detect only the heavy masses of light and shade, and he can recognize a par- ticular horse at a distance of half a mile. The plainsman of the West has the best eyesight of all the Americans, the wide sweep of country developing his vision through the absence of obstacles tending to shorten the range, PR ek OS Penk Oo moo as ha 27 THE NEWS OF THE WORLD. The Wedding a Labor and Capital. Capital and labor have found something on which both agree and against which both will spend all their energies for the next two months—a compulsory health- insurance bill for workers—which is to be presented in twenty out of the forty State legislatures, The compulsory movement is being supported by philanthropists under the corporate name of the Ameri- can Association for Labor Legislation. John Mitchell and Samuel Gompers have been conspicu- ous mames on the executive board of the association, but it is now announced that Gompers got off the board as soon as he discovered the intent of the bill was not “in keeping with the principles of unionism.” Mr. Mitchell is still on the board, and Ernest Bohm, of the Central Federated Union, says: “That’s a feature labor men cannot understand.” The railroad brotherhoods, the American Federation of Labor in every State in the Union, the National Civic Federation, and the National Manufacturers’ Association will fight the bill. The Association for Labor Legislation has hired a press agent for the boom it is about to launch. It has headquarters at No. 131 East Twenty-third Street. John B. Andrews is the chief spokesman for the association. The operation of this bill, labor leaders claim, would saddle another department on New York and other States and cost close to one million dollars a year. They see nothing in it but “fat jobs” for “the idlers in philan- thropy,” as Edward Hannah, of the Pavers’ and Rammers’ Union, calls them. The bill was presented at the last session of the New York legislature as a sort of a “try-out,” and was “canned” without attracting much attention. Basically. it follows the lines of the German social insurance. It is com- pulsory in that the worker would have to be insured. The insurance would be paid by the employer, the worker, and the State, each bearing a third of the expense. United States Wealth Equals British Plus German. The United States is the richest country in the world, being worth more than Great Britain and Germany com- bined, according to George E. Roberts, director of the United States mint, who spoke before the Iowa Society of New York recently. He warned, however, that American capital would have to be advanced to develop foreign countries, if the United States maintains its leadership. Mr. Roberts explained that the effect of gold flooding this country will be to raise wages and all costs of doing business until the larger amount of money is employed in doing the same volume of business. : Woman Gets State Position. Following closely the appointment of Clara Ruth Mozzer as assistant attorney general of Colorado, a second woman has been honored with a State legal position. Attorney General-elect Brundage, of Illinois, a few days ago announced the appointment of Miss Jeanette Bates, a lawyer who practices in Chicago, as one of his assist- ants. “It is useless to say I would have to consider it,” said Miss Bates, when told 6f the appointment, “because, of course, I knew at once that I wanted it. But it did rather take my breath away. The whole thing had been kept secret from me.’ Miss Bates, besides being a capable attorney, has hob- bies—children, gardens, and preserves. She has two adopted children, Katherine and Edward Bates, whom she undertook to care for six years ago, when they were left orphaned. Her home is in Ardmore, Illinois, where she is village attorney. Attifictal Arms Like Human. German science, which developed warfare to its highest state of destructiveness, is now devoting itself with equal energy to alleviating its sufferings. How this is being done was explained by Doctor Ralph Henry Kuhns, who arrived in Chicago after six months’ service in a base hospital maintained by German Americans at Deutsch Fylau, West Prussia. “The manufacture of artificial limbs has reached the ultimate stage of perfection,” Doctor Kuhns said. “I saw artificial arms capable of doing the finest, most deli- cate work. Wires are run from the fingers and attached to the muscles of the stump in such a way that they can be moved with almost the same facility as the natural fingers. Others are made which serve the skilled mechanic and the laborer.” Price of Monkeys Goes Up. Like food, white paper, and shoe prices, the cost of mon- keys has gone up, and it is also disclosed that pathological experiments being conducted by the Public Health Service are in danger of being seriously hampered by scarcity of available simians. Recently the service needed a dozen monkeys to be inoculated with disease germs in_ its hygienic laboratories, but could get only six, and had to pay eighteen dollars each, although a little more’ than a year ago they were more plentiful: at eight’ dollars a head. Clown’s Place in World of Trouble. It used to be that years ago a man would very seldom go to theater or music hall—they didn’t have time then at all. And yet when they would be amused it seems they almost always used to have the jester and the clown who’d bring the smile and chase the frown, a comic tale he would relate or sing a song of ancient date, and though a bit uncouth, they’d say, “The fellow’s droll, in sooth !” The human face, to stand the gaff of life’s hard bumps, must have its laugh; we like at times to grin and snort and see the merry fools cavort. It’s true to-day no jesters swing their bladders, bells, and everything, and yet they’re much the same who fill the theater and vaudeville. I like to go to such a place and watch an actor’s funny - face. I like to sit down in the rows where I can see upon his nose and at his’eyes the paint he smears; they 28 : NEW BUFFALO often hide advancing years. And though he tells.an ancient wheeze, I’m sure he always tries to please. And when his useful years are o’er, when he can get the laughs no more, although he wasn’t very much, let’s have a pleasant word for such; although he won few leaves of bay, let’s make him think so anyway, and say to him, “By Jiminy, how comical you used to be!” Fotty Years by Self; to See Men Again. After more than forty years in solitary confinement, Jesse Pomeroy, the noted “lifer” of the Charlestown’ prison, is to be permitted once again to look upon the faces of his fellow men. As a result of many years of public agitation, a special committee was appointed re- cently to investigate Pomeroy’s case. This committee has now prepared a report to the governor, recommending that certain privileges be granted with a view to ameliorat- ing the condition of the celebrated prisoner’s incarcera- tion. Jesse Pomeroy is considered the most extraordinary life prisoner in the United States. So far as is known he is the only man in the entire history of the country who has spent forty years, or even any considerable portion of that period, in solitary confinement. The conditions of his imprisonment were prescribed by the court which sentenced him. His cell is undoubtedly the strongest in America. Despite this fact, on a dozen occasions since his entrance he has, with superhuman cunning, devised plans of escape, and, in spite of con- stant watching, has succeeded in carrying them to an advanced stage of execution. The history of crime laid at the door of Pomeroy is one of savage atrocities, committed by a boy only in his teens. Born in Charlestown in 1859, according to his own story of his life, Pomeroy was convicted of two brutal murders in 1874, and on September 9, 1876, he began his life sentence. It was in 1872 that he moved with his mother to South Boston, the scene of most of the crimes laid at his door. At that time he already had established a reputation as a “bad boy,” and had served some time in a reformatory. Shortly after Pomeroy’s return from the reform school, alittle girl named Katie Curran disappeared. She had been sent by her mother to purchase a loaf of bread. Hundreds .of people turned “detective,” but no trace of the missing girl could be found. A few months later the body of a little boy was found on the Dorchester marshes. It was badly mutilated. Sus- picion rested upon Pomeroy, who was questioned and who at last became frightened enough to admit that he might have done the killing. The police had taken a plaster-of-paris impression of the footprints leading to the body, and found that they tallied with the measurements of Pomeroy’s shoes. While Pomeroy was in jail, his mother moved from the house in South Boston. The house was torn down, and,. while workmen were removing the débris, they unearthed the corpse of Katie Curran, who had been’lured into the house and killed. Story after story was heard after that of atrocities, many of them probably true and others perhaps fiction, for Pomeroy has been a fruitful subject for fanciful minds since the time of his arrest. The sentence of the court that the youthful mur- derer should be kept in solitary confinement during the BILL WEERLY, term of his natural life has been strictly observed by the prison authorities during the last forty years. The noted prisoner has never been allowed to mingle with the other prisoners. For forty years he has been kept in a cell without windows. He has never been permitted to take part in the recreations of the other prison inmates, and the door of his cell has been kept covered so he could not see the other prisoners as they passed by. The special committee appointed to investigate the case is unanimous that no pardon or parole be granted or even considered, but it is of the opinion that some of the privileges now granted to other lifers be extended to Pomeroy if measures are taken to prevent his escape. It is suggested that the prisoner be allowed a different cell, with a window, through which he can see outside light; that he be allowed the same yard privileges for exercise and recreation as are accorded other life pris- oners, under constant supervision of an officer of the prison; that he be allowed to attend church services and entertainments, and join with others if he desires, unless objection is made by the other prisoners; that he be al- lowed such books, periodicals, and magazines as other prisoners are allowed to read; but that these privileges be allowed only during good behavior, and subject to all the rules and regulations of the prison. Sees New World in Coma. Physicians and amateur psychologists are watching with interest the cataleptic condition of Miss Isabelle Myers, sixteen, of Fostoria, Ohio, who hasbeen asleep: for more than a month. From time to time the girl talks about the wonders of a world which she evidently believes herself to be visiting. Her descriptions are so vivid that persons who have heard her declare their belief that she is receiving visions of another world. United States Deals Wets Staggering Blow. In the most sweeping of all decisions upholding prohibi- tion laws, the supreme court of the United States has upheld as constitutional and valid the Webb-Kenyon law, prohibiting shipments of liquor from wet to dry States. It also has sustained West Virginia’s recent amendment to her laws prohibiting importation in interstate commerce of liquor for personal use. After having been vetoed by President Taft, who held it unconstitutional, and having been repassed by Congress over his veto, the Webb-Kenyon law was sustained by the supreme court by a vote of seven to two. Leaders of the prohibition movement declare it is to their fight second only in importance to the proposed constitutional amend- ment. Lawyers for liquor interests who heard the decision admitted it upheld and applied the law “in its fullest sense,”’. Chief Justice White announced the majority opinion, to which Justices Holmes and Vandevanter dissented. Jus- tice McReynolds, while agreeing with the majority deci- sion, did not concur in the opinion. “The all-reaching power of government over liquor is settled,” said the chief justice, in announcing the deci- sion. “‘There was no intention of Congress to forbid individual use of liquor. The purpose of this act was to NEW BUFFALO cut out by the roots the practice of permitting violation of State liquor laws. We can have no doubt that Con- gress has complete authority to prevent paralyzing of State authority. Congress exerted a power to codrdinate the national with the State authority.” European Suspected of “Gold Coast’? Robberies. “European crooks are flocking to this country in droves. The war has forced them to seek new fields to make a living. If you have any jewel collections, guard them closely this winter, or these European crooks will get them.” This is a warning that was sounded recently by a de- tective of national fame. That his warning was not without foundation is seen in a series of twelve burglaries in the homes of Chicago’s wealthy folk on Lake Shore Drive. Thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry and valuable ornaments have been stolen from the homes of the mil- lionaires on the Chicago “gold coast” in the last few weeks. In the homes of two families the burglar was dis- covered at his work. George M. Reynolds, head of: the Continental and Commercial National Bank, frightened away a burglar who entered his home in the early hours one morning last week, as did Mrs. John Borden, wife of the wealthy explorer. But in each case the burglar escaped with several thousand dollars in loot. The police suspect and are hunting for a European, and believe that when they convict the guilty man he will prove to be a notorious robber from the Old World. Limberger Changes His Name. Andrew Bartley Limberger, traveling auditor of the Standard Oil Company, appeared in the circuit court at Evansville, Indiana, recently, and asked that his name be changed to plain Andy Berger, saying that because of his name his friends called him “Cheese” and made fun of him. The court promptly granted his request. Three Killed by Earthquake. Three hundred persons have been killed and many in- jured in a recent disastrous earthquake in central For- mosa, according to reports from Taihoku, the capital of Formosa. It is estimated that one thousand houses have been destroyed. The city of Nanto has been damaged ex- tensively by fire. The island of Formosa lies between the : Philippine Islands and Japan, and is owned by Japan. The city of Nanto is situated in the central part of the island. United States Secrets Guarded by Woman. It’s an old story that a woman cannot keep a secret. But there is one who must keep many, and these secrets concern the honor of the United States. This woman who must go through what is described as an ordeal for her sex is Miss Jessie L. Simpson, of St. Louis, Missouri, A Washington report says she has just been appointed clerk of the very important Senate committee on foreign relations. Incidentally, at an annual salary of three thou- sand dollars, she will be the second-highest-paid woman in all the government service. _ The recent report of the intention of President Wilson to appoint Mrs. Frances C. Axtell, of Bellingham, Wash- BILL WEEKLY. 29 ington, a Progressive, to the workmen’s compensation com- mission to administer the Federal employees’ liability law, was confirmed the other day when Mr. Wilson formally nominated her for the post. _ . Up at Beloit, Wisconsin, they have just made a woman deputy sheriff for Rock County. She is Miss Mary Whelan, clerk of the Beloit municipal court. Miss Whelan is believed to be the first woman to hold the office of deputy sheriff in Wisconsin. Miss Whelan is a suffra- gist and is head of the Beloit branch of the Red Cross. Scared Hotse Returns to Aid Master. The remarkable intelligence of the horse, said to rank second to the elephant, the most intelligent of all mem- bers of the animal world, is again exemplified in this incident : The farm wagon in which Judson H. van Creaf was riding along the Passaic River Road, near Fairfield, New Jersey, recently, late at night, was hit by an automobile and wrecked. Mr. van Creaf was thrown fifteen feet down an embankment to the edge of the frozen river, and the horse ran away. The automobile disappeared without stopping, leaving Van Creaf unconscious. Apparently after the horse had run a quarter of a mile and had freed himself of the wrecked wagon, he reconsidered and returned to where the accident had happened. There he was found, two hours later, by Henry Vreeland. Mr. Vreeland tried to lead the animal to his home, but he would not move. That caused Vreeland to look about. In a short time he found Van Creaf. : When his master had been revived, the horse was willing to go on to Pine Brook, the home of Van Creaf, and also to Vreeland. The former’s injuries were serious, but not fatal. Gtocet Is Shot for Robber. Francis Labounty, a grocer of Watseka, Illinois, was shot to death by Assistant City Marshal A. J. Bailey, who mistook him and was mistaken by him for a robber who had held up the grocer a short time before. Labounty was held up by two men and robbed of four hundred dollars while going home from his grocery with his wife. He took his wife home, and reported the theft to the city hall. Parted Fifty Yeats’; Paiz Meet by Chance. John A. Campbell, a wealthy manufacturer of Van- couver, British Columbia, recently stopping with his fam- ily at the St. Mark Hotel, at San Francisco, California, noticed the name of Charles Campbell, of New York, on the hotel register, and inquired about him. “He is that elderly man seated over there,” said the clerk. John A. Campbell looked him over and approached him. “Where were you born, stranger?” the Vancouver man asked. “In Ontario.” “What became of your father and mother?” “They were lost at sea when [ was a small lad.” “Well, then, you’re my brother Charley, all right.” And the two men embraced, not having seen each other for more than fifty years. Before they were twenty they drifted away from the old homestead, in Ontario, 30 : NEW BUFFALO lost trace of each other, and, while John A. was making a fortune and raising a family in Vancouver, Charles was doing likewise in New York. Both were on pleasure tours with their families when they met, and now the families are enjoying a happy reunion. Woman, Eighty-three, Ends Eighty-five-thousand-mile Trip. Just as Alexander wept because there were no more worlds to conquer, so Mrs. Sofia Howarth, eighty-three, is sorrowing because there is no other place in the world to go. When Mrs. Howarth reaches her home in Los eon some time this month, she will have completed a journey around the earth—with a few side trips, such as a sleigh ride on an Alaskan glacier and a boat trip on a Chinese river—a total of more than eighty-five thousand miles. Mrs. Howarth arrived here from Colén after a trip through the Panama Canal. She is tall and erect, with piercing blue eyes, a firm chin, and an unusually sweet smile. Mrs. Howarth does not wear glasses, and has per- fect teeth. — Mrs. Howarth began traveling when she lacked a year of eighty. Her near relatives are all dead, and she is wealthy. : Bee Women for Resetve Flyers. A plan for the probationary enrollment of women avia- tors in the army aviation reserve corps for such service, back of operations, as spotting the approach of enemy aircraft, submarines, and mines, and in guarding cities and harbors, is under consideration by the aviation board of engineers in the war department. General Wood has broadly indorsed women’s participation in this service. Negroes Going Back South. Cold weather in the North is causing many negroes who left the South, on promises of good pay and steady work, to return to their homes. Some of the negroes are arriv- ing on trains and some on foot. Those who have re- turned say that others will come back South just as soon | as they can get transportation. . Many letters appealing for railroad tickets have been received from the oe who went North in the fall. Lauds Chorus Girls of Stam. The chorus girl of old Siam has got her American sis- ter beaten more than a few city blocks when it comes to beauty and grace, -according to Prince Mahidol, of Siam, half brother of the King of Siam, who is a special student at Harvard. “Your American chorus girl is very beautiful, but the show girl of Siam is far more beautiful. Our chorus girls are prettier of face and far more shapely in form, and are just as graceful as your queens of musical com- edy,” he said. Highbrow Lecturer Explains a Mystery. The scientist had given a very scientific lecture, and at the end he said, beaming down on his audience Pontes scendingly : “Now, if there is any scientific question that any of my friends ‘would like to ask, I beg them not to hesitate. I shall be only too happy to answer any inquiry in my power,” BILL WEEKLY. An elderly woman in spectacles that gave her a severe, stern look, rose and’ said: ‘Why do wet tea leaves kill cockroaches?” The scientist did not know wet tea leaves did anahine of the kind, much less the cause of the phenomenon; but, never at a loss, he replied: “Because, madam, when a cockroach comes across a wet tea leaf, he says, ‘Hello, here’s a_ blanket, himself up in it, catches cold, and dies.” Boy Ends Life to Save Pup. Rather than kill his pup, Charles L. J. Ward, a four- teen-year-old schoolboy of Lawrence, Massachusetts, re- cently took the poison intended for his pet, and was found dead, with this note beside his body: “Don’t kill my big puppy. I will die in his place.” His foster father, J. T. Ward, had ordered the boy to kill two dogs that were suspected of carrying typhoid germs. Mrs. Ward is now critically ill at the General Hospital from the disease, and she suspected the dogs were typhoid carriers. She asked her husband to have them killed. Girls Carry. Whistles. Cleveland, Ohio, women are substituting the tin whistle for the man escort. No, not as a matter of choice, but when the escort is lacking, the whistle accompanies the girl out after dark. Miss Florence Kukura is the mother of the movement. She works nights, and has got tired of being accosted on the way home by flirts. “Girls can carry a whistle in their vanity cases,” said Miss Kukura. “If there isn’t a policeman in the neigh- borhood when the call is sounded, there'll surely be some gallant man who'll respond.” Question the Sanity of “Skyscraper King.” The sanity of Francis P. Owings, of Chicago, was ques- tioned the other day, but not for the first time. Back in the early eighties, Owings, an engineer of somewhat daring inclinations, achieved the climax of his revolu- tiary architectural ideas by proposing to build a twelve- story building. Engineers laughed, and his friends tapped their foreheads significantly, but he persevered, and in time attained financial backing. The Bedford Building, a marvel for that period, was the result. By 1893, the year of the World’s Fair, the Masonic Temple, with its unheard-of nineteen stories, pierced the sky to the wonder of visitors, and oe was pointed out as the “skyscraper king.” But the years that wrought these changes dealt harshly with the skyscraper king, and recently, broken in health and purse, he was taken to the psycopathic hospital. Rare Intelligence Displayed by Cats. The following animal stories have been sent to this pub- lication by a subscriber, who vouches for their accuracy: “I was in a café a few weeks.ago when I noticed a cat, evidently belonging to the place. She was caring for a family of small kittens.~After I had been there a while I noticed a half-starved, forlorn-looking tomeat come in the front door—the female cat went up to him, then, turning, went into the kitchen, brought back a string of five frankfurters, and laid them at the geet of the poor waif. The chef, missing his frankfurters, attempted to and wraps i iy ——and doing this to each dog in turn. NEW BUFFALO take them from the intruder, but, as the tested, he permitted the cat to eat them. act of charity. “Another interesting thing I noticed in a friend’s home, where she had a beautiful Manx cat, was the devotion he had for all dogs. The lady had several fine dogs— and the cat would go and sit down by the dogs and lap their faces all over—holding the face in his front paws It would have made customers pro- This was truly an a pretty picture.” Man Twice Discovers Woman Dead in Bed. Finding two women dead in his bed on successive days was not sufficient to unnerve Christopher Regan, of Tenth Avenue, New York, and he told the police that he intended to put a padlock on the door to keep away women about to die. Regan found his wife dead in bed recently, and the police believed there might have been foul play, as there were bruises on the body. But an autopsy showed that death resulted from natural causes, and that the bruises followed a fall downstairs a few days before. When Regan returned to his room the next night he found a strange woman dead in his bed. He informed the police, and the second body was sent to. the morgue for an autopsy, although a pevattian said death was due to natural causes. Regan believes she was a friend of his wife, who, being ill, entered the room, and, not finding Mrs. Regan, lay down on the bed. Taussig Takes Tariff Job. Professor Frank W. Taussig, of Harvard, has accepted a place on the tariff commission, and probably will be made chairman. The other four members will be an- nounced later. Professor Taussig is a teacher of political economy, and has written extensively on the tariff. It is understood the -administration had difficulty in persuading him to accept. With Secretaries McAdoo and Houston, he conferred with President Wilson, and was told that the work to be done by the commission was considered of great importance because of tariff readjust- ments that may be necessary after the war. Man’s Plans Foiled by Death. Only three of the sixty things James McLeod intended to do when he came to Los Angeles, California, recently, for recreation had been done when he died from natural causes. His body was found by the landlady. In his pocket were six hundred and sixty-five dollars in currency and a list of the things he intended to do while sojourning here. Here are items from the schedule of experiences he had planned for himself: Eat ten-cent breakfast at cheapest restaurant. Noon, same day, eat twenty-five cent lunch at cafeteria. Same night, eat eight-dollar dinner at best café in city. i Visit ostrich farm and see if they will swallow knife, my old one. See moving pictures taken. not over twenty-five dollars. ‘Inspect new pumps and then go to Exposition Park to see paintings. Pay for having myself taken, BILL WEEKLY. — 183 Ride in jitney bus Meet bunko men, if possible, and see how they act. If I see newsboy who looked like me when a me: him five-dollar gold piece. give Girl Wins “First Fly” Prize. Through the capture of the first winter fly of the year, Miss Catharine Brennan, of New York, not only has pre- vented the potential existence of about a billion flies next summer, but has won a prize offered by Edward Hatch, junior, chairman of the Merchants’ Association committee on pollution, In submitting the fly, Miss Brennan made affidavits that she has found it under the kitchen table in her home after a search of several hours, which even extended to Broad- Way restaurants. ~ Mr. Hatch’s prize was offered for the first person send- ing to the association a fly captured after the beginning of the year. One of the rules of the contest was that the insect must be a “‘wild” fly, that is, a fly that had not been nurtured and reserved for capture. Explorer, One Hundred and Five, Dies in Alaska, John Finlayson, a famous explorer, for whom the Fin- layson River and Finlayson Lake, in Yukon Territory, were named, is dead, at Wrangell, Alaska, at the age of one hundred and five years. Finlayson was a native of Scotland. He prospected and mined gold in California and Oregon until he was sixty- six years old, and then went to British Columbia and Yukon Territory and explored large areas, into which white men had never penetrated. He was always a pros- pector for gold, and was one of the first to enter the Stikine and Cassiar countries. Many years ago he retired to Wrangell with what he supposed was a stm ample to meet his needs, but he had not expedted to attain so great an age, and two years ago he was obliged to apply to the Pioneers’ Home, at Sitka, for a pension, to which he was entitled by law. Military Training. Unanimous indorsement of universal military training and service was given in a resolution adopted by more than one hundred faculty heads of medical schools and colleges throughout the country, assembled at the call of the Council of National Defense, to discuss preparedness measures as affecting the medical profession. The doctors, in their resolutions, agreed that universal training would be in the interests of the health, develop- ment, and efficiency of the youths of the country, and urged that when universal-service legislation is enacted by Congress, adequate provision be made for the training of medical officers and others connected with relief work for the army and navy. Amuse the Chickens. Chickens should be amused. The feathered kind, that is. Authority for the above statement tarday is Mrs. T. P. Marshall, field worker for the extension service of the Texas Agricultural and Mechanical College. Chickens hatched in an incubator find life dull and uninteresting because of the mechanical way in which they are ushered into the world, according to Mrs. Mar- shall. o2 NEW BUFFALO “One way of amusing them,” she says, “is to pile straw on the floor of the brooder and let them tear it down. They Seem to enjoy it, and it teaches them to scratch.” Girl, Sixteen, Raises Prize Pigs. Because she stayed home from parties and cared for / her pigs, Miss Ruth Cunningham, sixteen, is champion pig raiser of Minnesota to-day. The award was made by the University of Minnesota Agricultural School, at St. Paul, Minnesota. Ruth raised highbrow pigs. Each day she scrubbed her pigs by hand, and followed that by giving them a shower bath. Then she massaged each pig with oil daily. Comfortable couches were ar- ranged for the pigs in the shade of trees on her father’s farm. Her pig menu consisted of milk, ae clover, salt, lime, coal, green vegetables—and all were served in indi- -vidual troughs. Five Hundted Miles an Hour. The possibility of traveling from New York to Petrograd in fourteen hours, and from New York to Chicago in two hours by making a speed of five hundred miles an hour was broached to’ the American Association for the Ad- vancement of Science by Professor Boris Weinberg, of the Imperial University at Petrograd, when that society met in New York recently. : The professor displayed a model of his invention, con- sisting of an iron tube and a-car for one person. His plan, as explained, calls for shooting the car through a vacuum, while suspended free from contact by the action of magnets, thus eliminating all retarding friction. . Labor’s Clerks Ask Raise. A committee from a Washington, D. C., union of office clerks sought a conference with Secretary Morrison, of the American Federation of Labor, in an effort to have the federation pay its clerks employed at national head- quarters here the same rates advocated by the federation for government clerks—three dollars a day minimum and two hundred dollars increase for those now earning three dollars daily. An officer of the union explained in a statement that about sixty office employees of the Federation of Labor are members of the clerks’ organiza- tion, which in turn is affiliated with the federation, and cannot order a strike without the federation’s approval. Pays Five Million Dollars for Park. John D. Rockefeller; junior, has bought the C. K. G. Billings, Hays, and Sheafer estates, about fifty-seven acres, valued at five million dollars, on upper irene Drive, New York. Although Mr. Rockefeller has not completed his plans for the use of the property, it was learned that he means eventually to give it to the city for a park. v8 Tryon Hall, as the Billings home is known, occupies the highest point on Manhattan Island, and, with its Louis XIV. residence, its beautiful grounds and roadways, has been one of the citHs meccas for sight-seers. Woman State Official Seeks Law for Her Sex. Miss Clara Ruth Mozzer, the first woman assistant attorney general in the United States, appointed to the position in response to the demands of the women of this State, has started her campaign to force the Democratic ~ session. BIEL WHERLY. party to live up to its pledges and put through a minimum wage law for -women at the eG session of the State legislature of Colorado. The bill passed by the last legislature, and vetoed by the governor, will be amended and reintroduced at this The most important changes in the bill, which is patterned after the Oregon law, will be the inclusion of piece workers as well as wage workers in pie minimum, according to Miss Mozzer. If the bill passes, all cases coming under the new law while she holds office will be returned over to Miss Mozzer. A New Way to Catch Rats. A few months ago Ubam Podger, superintendent of the Milk & Cream Company’s plant at West Monroe, New York, nailed a rusty horseshoe over the door of the storeroom. When Mr. Podger opened the door, a few days ago, he observed a mouse hanging from the horse- shoe, its tongue stuck to the steel. Mr. Podger expresses. the opinion that the mouse ran over the top of the door, mistook the horseshoe for a bone, and placed its tongue against the frost-laden shoe, which heid it. Mr. Podger says rats and mice are numerous in the creamery, and that he will smear horseshoes with cheese, place them in different parts of the building, and try to exterminate them by the frost method. Court Sessions on Train. On a Southern Pacific Limited train which left San Francisco, California, recently for the East, special ses- sions of the United States District Court were held. No _ witnesses were examined, but attorneys argued before United States District Judge Ben F. Bledsoe, of Los Angeles, the admissibility of certain evidence in the so- called fraud suits in which the government is seeking to cancel the patents on California oil lands acquired by the Southern Pacific Company. For the convenience of witnesses for the defense, Judge Bledsoe consented to hold court in New York: This is the second transcontinental trip taken by the court and its attachés in this case. Dining Cars Banish Booze. All the railroads operating in and through the inter- mountain region are now on the water wagon, as far as the sale of liquor in dining cars is concerned. The last road to get aboard is the Union Pacific. An _order was issued a few days ago to discontinue the serv- ing of drinks on dining cars in Wyoming, although there is no restriction in that State against the sale of liquor. The action of the Union Pacific makes the entire region from Chicago and the Mississippi River to the Utah and New Mexico State lines dry from the railroad stand- point. Cabinet for Philippines. Governor General Harrison, of the. Philippines, has made announcement of the impending formation of a council of state, to act in an advisory capacity. The coun- cil wifl include the president and speaker of the Senate, who declined to accept secretaryships. It is expected that the result of this move will be to make the council of state equivalent to a cabinet, and that the secretaries will be merely department heads. New Buffalo Bill ISSUED BV ERY TUESDAY Weekly 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. voted to be masterpieces of Western adventure fiction. Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to know all there is to know about him. great man, as by reading the New Buffalo Bill Weekly. We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print. These stories have been read exclusively in this weekly for any. years, and are In no manner can you become so orate acquainted with the actual habits: and life of this 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. 20—Buffalo Bill's Eagle Eye. 21—Buffalo Bill's Arizona Alliance. 22—Buffalo Bill’s Mexican Adventure. 23—Buffalo Bill After the Bandits. 24—Buffalo Bill’s Red Trailer. 25—Buffalo Bill in the Hole in the Wall. 26—Buffalo Bill and the Bandit in Armor. 28—Buffalo Bill in the Valley of Death. 29—Buffalo Bill’s Great Knife Duel. 80—Buffalo Bill in the Nick of Time. 31—Buffalo Bill’s Sacrifice. 32—Buffalo Bill's Frisco Feud. 33—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Hunt. 34—Buffalo Bill’s Avenging Hand. 35—Buffalo Bill at War with the Danites. 36—Buffalo Bill’s Deadshot Pard. 37—Buffalo an and the Death Brother- ood. 388—Buffalo Bill’s Fiery Trail. 40-—Buffalo Bill’s Cold Trail. 41—-Buffalo Bill's Iron Fist. 42— Buffalo Bill’s Race With Fire. 43—Buffalo Bill’s Florida Foes. 44—_Buffalo Bill’s Grim Climb. 45— Buffalo Bill’s Red Enemy. 46—Buffalo Bill on a Fraitor’s Track. 47—Buffalo Bill’s Terrible Odds. 48—Buffalo Bill’s Air Voyage. 49—Buffalo Bill’s Death Thrust. 50—Buffalo Bill’s Kiowa Foe. 51—Buffalo Bill’s Terrible Throw. 52—Buffalo Bill’s Wyoming Trail. 52—Buffalo Bill’s Dakota Peril. 54—Buffalo Bill’s Tomahawk Duel. 55—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Round-up. 56—Buffalo Bill’s El Paso Pard. 57—Buffalo Bill’s Rio Grande Feud. 58—Buffalo Bill in Tight Quarters. 59—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Rescue. 60—Buffalo Bill at the Torture Stake. 61—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Train. 62—Buffalo Bill Among the Blackfeet. 63—Buffalo Bill’s Border Beagles. 64—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black. 65 i 7 i 66—Buffalo Bill in the Cafion of Death. 67—Buffalo Bill and Billy, the Kid. 68—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Ranch. 69—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Wonders. 70—Buffalo Bill and the Traitor Soldier. 71—Buffalo Bill’s Dusky Trailers. 72—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Mine. —Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent 74—_Buffalo Bill’s Scarlet Hand. 75—Buffalo Bill Running the Gantlet. 76—Buffalo Bill’s Leap in the Dark. 77—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Plunge. 78—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Mescce: i! aid. 80—Buffalo Bill’s Traitor Guide. 81—Buffalo Bill’s Camp Fires. 82—Buffalo Bill Up a Stump. 83—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Foe. 84—Buffalo Bill’s Master Stroke. 85—Buffalo Bill and the Skeleton Horse- man. . 86—Buffalo Bill and the Brazos Terror. 87—Buffalo Bill’s Dance of Death 88—Buffalo Bill and the Creeping. Terror. S9—Buffalo Bill and the Brand of Cain. 90—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Millionaire. 91—Buffalo Bill’s Medicine Lodge. 92—Buffalo Bill in Peril. 938—Buffalo Bill’ s Strange Pard. . 94—Buffalo Bill in the Death Desert. 95—Buffalo Bill in No-Man’s Land. 96— Buffalo Bill’s Border Ruffians. 97—Buffalo Bill’s Black Eagles. 98—Buffalo Bill’s Rival. 99—Buffalo Bill and the Boy Bugler. 100—Buffalo Bill and the White Specter. 161—Buffalo Bill’s Death Defiance. 102—Buffalo Bill and the Barge Bandits. .1083—Buffalo Bill, the Desert Hotspur. 104—-Buffalo Bill’s Wild Range Riders. 105—Buffalo Bill’s Red Retribution. 106—Buffalo Bill’s Death Jump. 107—Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Runners. 108—Buffalo Bill's Fiery Eye. 109—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band. 110—Buffalo Bill’s Maverick. 111—Buffalo Bill, the White Whirlwind. 112—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico. 1:3—Buffalo Bill’s Flying Wonder 114—Buffalo Bill’s Ice Chase. 115—Buffalo Bill’s Gold Hunters. 116—Buffalo Bill and the Wolf Master. 117—Buffalo Bill’s Message from the Dead. 118—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Dozen. 119—Buffalo Bill’s Whirlwind Chase. 120—Buffalo Bill Haunted. 121—Buffalo Bill’s Fight for Life. 122—Buffalo Bill and the Pit of Horror. 123—Buffalo Bill in the Jaws of Death. 124—_Buffalo Bill’s Dance With Death. 125—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold. 126—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail. 127—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen. 128—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder. iz Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance. 1380—Buffalo Bill’s Peace Pipe. 131—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis. 132—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa. 133—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death. 134—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak. 155—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty. 136—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery. 1837—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party. 128——Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride. 139—Buffalo Bill’s Water Trail. 140—Buffalo Bill’s Ordeal of Fire. 141—Buffalo Bill Among the Man-eaters. 142—Buffalo Bill’s Casket of Pearls 148—Buffalo Bill’s Sky Pilot. 144—Buffalo Bill’s Totem. 145—Buffalo Bill’s Flatboat Drift. 146—Buffalo Bill on Deck. 147—Buffalo Bill and the Bronchobuster. 148—Buffalo Bill’s Great Round-up. 149—Buffalo Bill’s Pledge. 150—Buffalo Bill’s Cowboy Pard. 151—Buffalo Bill and the Emigrants. 152—Buffalo Bill Among the Pueblos. 1538—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards. 154—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé. 155—Buffalo Bill Ensnared. 156—Buffalo Bill’s Pick-up. 157—Buffalo Bill’s Quest. 158— Buffalo Bill’s Waif of the Plains. 159—Buffalo Bill Baffled. 160—Buffalo Bill Among the Mormons. -161—Buffalo Bill’s Assistance. 162-—Ruffalo Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail. 163—Buffalo Bill and the Slave Dealer. 164—Buffalo Bill’s Strong Arm. 165—Buffalo Bill’s Girl Pard. 166—Buffalo Bill's Iron Bracelets. 167—Buffalo Bill’s ‘‘Paper Talk.’’ 168—Buffalo Bill’s Bridge of Fire. 169—Buffalo Bill’s Bowie. 170—Buffalo Bill and the Forty Thieves. 171—-Buffalo Bill’s Mine. 172—Buffalo Bill’s Clean-up. 173—Buffalo Bill’s Ruse. 174—Buffalo Bill Overboard. 175—Buftalo Bill’s Ring. 176—Buffalo Bill’s Big Contract. 177—Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane. 178—Buffalo Bill’s Kid Pard. 179—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Plight. 180—Buffalo Bill’s Fearless Stand. 181—Buffalo Bill and the Yelping Crew. 182—Buffalo Bill’s Guiding Hand. 1838—Buffalo Bill’s (ueer Quest. 184—Buffalo Bill's Prize “Get-away.” 185—Buffalo Bill’s Hurricane Hustle. 186—Buffalo Bill's Star Play. 187—Buffalo Bill’s Bluff. 188—Buffalo Bill's Trackers. 189—Buffalo Bill’s Dutch Pard. 190—Buffalo Bill. and the Bravo. 191—Buffalo Bill and. the Quaker. 192—Buffalo Bill’s Package of Death. 193—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Cache. 194—-Buffalo Bill’s Private War. 195—Buffalo Bill and the Trouble-hunter. 196—Buffalo Bill and the Rope Wizard. 197—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta. 198—Buffalo Bill Among the Cheyennes, 199—Buffalo Bill Besieged. 200—Buffalo Bill and the Red Hand. 201—Buffalo Bill’s Tree-Trunk Drift. 202—Buffalo Bill and the Specter. 203—Buffalo Bill's Secret Message. 204—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Her- mosa. 205— Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail. 206— Buffalo Bill’s Quarry. 207—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood. 208—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid. 209—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight. 210—Buffalo Bill Repaid. 211—Buffalo Bill’s Throwback. 212—Buffalo Bill's ‘‘Sight-Unseen.”’ 213—Buffalo Bill's New Pard. 214—Buffalo Bill’s Winged Victory. 215—Buffalo Bill’s ‘‘Pieces-of-Eight.” 216—Buffalo Bill and the Eight Vaqueros. 217—Buffalo Bill’s Unlucky Siesta. 218—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Clue. 219—Buffalo Bill and the Apache Totem. 220—Buffalo Bill’s Golden Wonder. 221—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta Night. 222—Buffalo Bill and the Hatchet Boys. 223—Buffalo Bill and the Mining Shark. 224—Buffalo Bill and the Cattle Barons. 225—Buffalo Bill’s Long Odds. 226—Buffalo Bill, the Peace Maker. 227—Buffalo Bill’s Promise to Pay. 228—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Hitch. 229—Buffalo Bill and the Wheel of Fate. 230—Buffalo Bill and the Pool of Mystery. 231—Buffalo Bill and the Deserter. 232—Buffalo Bill’s Island in the Air. 2383—Buffalo Bill, Town Marshal. 234—Buffalo Bill’s Ultimatum. 235—Buffalo Bill's Test. 286—Buffalo Bill and the Ponca Raiders. Dated March 24th, 1917. 237—Buffalo Bill's Boldest Stroke. Dated March 31st, 1917. 238—Buffalo Bill’s Enigma. Dated April Mili: 239-—Buffalo Bill’s Blockade. Dated April 14th, 1917 240—Buffalo Bill and the Gilded CHaue. EO PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY. dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your news Postage stamps taken the same as money. STREET & SMITH. Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City