1917 99 0 263 SEPT. 22, FAR WEST LIFE 8980204 | SS ee Devoted To Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York. Copyright, 1917, by STREET & SMITH CORPORATION. Terms to NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. Postage free for United States, Island Possessions, Mexico and Shanghai, China. Foreign Postage, $1.00 a year; Canadian Postage 50 cents a year. Single Copies or Back Numbers, 6c. 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 your remittance is acknowledged by proper GS VOTES. Vesa ss Ohie.c 956, ¢ 6 MONTE: She ces $1.50 | 2 copies one year-$5.00 change of number on your label. If not corrcet you have not been 4 MOnts,. 4 << 003-6 $1.00 | One year. .........3.00 1! 1 copy two years. -5.00 properly credited, and should let us know at once, No. 263. NEW YORK, September 22, 1917 Price Six Cents. BUFFALO BILL'S BATTLE CRY: OR, PAWNEE BILL AND THE INDIAN STAMPEDE By the author of ‘‘BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPEER [. OLD NOMAD OPINES. Old Nick Nomad waved his battered black pipe, swing- _ ing a trail of blue smoke in the air to give emphasis, and _ looked hard at the pinfeather newspaper reporter who was squatted before him. “What,” Harbison gasped, “about the world being round? Everybody knows that to be so.” “Ever’body counts in jest white folks; et plum’ leaves all Injuns out o’ ther calkilation, an’ thar aire some In- _juns what knows a heap. Likewise, I’m a good deal In- jun myself, along o’ havin’ herded with ’em so continyool. | “For one instance, I am recklecting mighty pertickler ther smoke talk which ole Singin’ Crow had with er Injun agent over on ther Red Washita. Ther agent war maintainin’ ther world war ez round ez a bullet, and turned over onct a day; which, ef et’s so, said Singin’ Crow, all the tepees would drap off inter space, an’ all ther worter run outer ther rivers. Seemed mighty good logic ter me, an’ I ain’t heard nothin’ yit ter make me reely think dif- Lint. “T hez trod over a lot o’ ground in my lifetime; been in so many places thet I jest cain’t recomember ther half of ‘em. But wharever if went ther ground war level, when et warn’t hills an’ hollers.” Harbison made some turkey tracks on his pad of paper; hhe had found some one who was sui generis, and he meant to comment on it at length in his newspaper; perhaps he could make a column of good “stuff” out of it. Smoking away, Nomad regarded the queer marks with a good deal of curiosity. “Writin’ is a queer thing ter an Injun. Et makes me think er ther time Gin’ral Harmer started ole Goose Foot, ther Injun scout, out from Fort Warren, packin’ a rifle and fifty ca’tridges, fer Nate Haskell, who war patrollin’ a line along the Niobrara, when Pawnees war threatenin’. Along with the things ther gin’ral give ther Injun scout was a letter ter Nate, tellin’ him how many ca’tridges he « war sendin’. On ther road, Goose Foot abstracted twenty and delivered thirty ter Nate, et bein’ Goose Foot’s pleas- ant idee ter have them twenty extry ca’tridges fer his own use. “‘Whar is them twenty other ca’tridges?’ says Nate, readin’ ther gin’ral’s letter. This hyar paper says that you hed fifty!’ : “Et scared Goose Foot so thet he hiked out an’ got em. “Ther week after, Gin’ral Harmer starts Goose Foot out in another direction, kerryin’ fifty ca’tridges fer an- other scout, who was out on ther Republican. “Now, et war Goose Foot’s idee thet ther paper he again kerried could see;. otherwise how could et know erbout et an’ tell. So when this time Goose Foot takes out twenty ca’tridges,. he tucks ther gin’ral’s letter under him an’ sets on et hard, ter keep et from seein’ him as he done ther stealin’. “When the letter tol’ on him jest ther same, Goose Foot throwed ever’thing he had away and took ter ther hills, an’ ef he ain’t stopped, I reckon he’s runnin’ yit.” Nomad’s characteristic “te-hee” followed. Beginning to think the old borderman was making game of him, Harbison flushed, but he made some more queer marks on the paper, then pulled the subject round to the purpose of his interview. ~ “But this trouble that’s brewing?” he said. Nomad oracularly waved his pipe again. “What I has been sayin’ will mebbeso throw light on et. An Injun is an Injun, with Injun idees an’ beliefs; an’ thar is trouble brewin’ whenever yer tries ter make him over inter a white man. “Hyar is this Sweetwater Reservation, which we’re set- tin’ on ther: aidge of et.. Ther gover ’ment is tryin’ ter turn the Injuns on et inter farmers, an’ has got ’em close- herded; ef they go off ther reservation ter shoot game, _they’re brung back an’ pitched inter the agency jail.. An’ as there ain’t no game on ther reservation no more, the ip a vA a A MRA ae ARR ~ & © fe 8 iS al Sa & at ee = ie BE AB AEBS aE AR Soe ices ————— 2 government agent has ter issue rations an’ feed ’em reg’ lar. ae “I was out through ther reservation on’y yistiday. In places the agent has built ’em a lot:of log houses. But they prefers their tepees. t | an’ takes the houses fer stables fer their ponies. Ther agent gives some of ’em a bright new wagon, tellin’ ’em how ter use et. But all they does is ter hook half a dozen caballos up ter et, fill et with squaws an’ chil’en, an’ go rammin’ ‘round on ther perairies, havin’ a gin’ral good time. “Bersides,’ he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and dropped it, glowing hot, into his side pocket, “A. lot o’ ornery white men layin’ round hyar does nothin’ but think up plans fer cheatin’ ther Injuns an’ tryin’ ter git thar land; an’ now this ghost dance and Red Messiah bizness has come erlong, an’ ther reds aire crow hoppin’ an talkin’ war.” f : Harbison had got round to the subject he wanted No- mad to discourse about. “Will there be a war?” he asked. “Will et rain nex’ week? I can tell thet jest as easy. Ef ther skies gits so full o’ worter they cain’t hold et any longer, then et will. rain. An’ ef ther redskins git so pizened with hostility an’ what they consider bad treat- ment thet they cain’t hold in any longer, thar will shore come an Injun war.’ “And if it comes?” said Harbison. “Ther furder yer gits frum this reservation, ther safer that brickdust topknot you’re wearin’ will be; what I can say is, thar cert’in will be warm times, and mebbeso a lot o’ blood spilt. But——” : oVess said Harbison, “Ef et comes, et will be as much ther fault of white men as of ther Injuns.” “Now, about this ghost dance and Red Messiah busi- ness,” said Harbison. “Tell me about that—what do you think about it?” He was making pothooks again on his pad of paper, and old Nomad watched him with interest. “You puttin’ down thar eyer’thing I say?” “All the points, anyway; all that I think important for my purpose.” “And you’re goin’ ter print et?” “T hope to.” “Then yer kin say this, and give et as ther Injun view 6’ ther thing—which et seems ter me, too, ther Injuns has a right ter look at et in thet way.” : ae put it down just as you tell me,” Harbison prom- ised. “K’rect. In. my opinion et’s this hyar Red Messiah bizness thet is goin’ ter cut more grass. than anything else. Et started with some o’ ther medicine men. Et seems thet one of ’em has been way out ter Salt Lake, er out thet erway, whar he met some other medicine men of tribes out thar; and them medicine, men war preachin’ et. “Et is ther Injun idee thet. ther time has come round when they aire ter have a Messiah. Missionaries has a long time been preachin’ amongst 7em, an’ has taught ’em about the Messiah of ther white man. So these cun- nin’ ole medicine men has took up thet idee; whether they aire believin’ et er not I cain’t say, but they’re makin’ the Injuns believe et. So they say that a Red Messiah has come; that he has been seen out at Salt Lake, and as promised thet ther old order o’ things shall be brought back to the Injuns. “When thet is done, the buffaloes will be as thick as they used ter be, ther antelopes will swarm on ther plains vild horses will be runnin’ in herds fer ther ketchin’, an’ deer an’ b’ar will be like they was when the noble redskin was monarch o’ all he surveyed, which you will allow was a heap o’ country. “Ter bring this erbout, 0’ course the fust thing ter be done is ter. git rid of ther white man. Accordin’ ter these hyar Injun teachings I’m narratin’ about, ther white - man has been ther fly in ther ’intment. ’Nother words, he has ruined everything fer -the Injuns—an’ I reckon thet is ther plumb truth; he has killed off all ther game whipped ther Injuns inter subjection, an’ is now close- herdin’ ’em on reservations—which ther tedskins hate like fire, an’ ye cain’t blame ’em. I’d make an ole rookus my- NEW BUFFALO So they still uses the tepees,. BILL -WEEREY; self ef, after all my years o’ wanderin’, somebody should. purpose ter hive me up anywhar. I reckon you would,” “And so.they have gone to ghost dancing?” “Jest a word erbout thet,” said Nomad judicially. “Ip. jun dancin’ is allers reeligious; they never dances fer fun an’ hilarity, same as white peoples does; et’s serious work wi’ them. And ghost—ther word gives a wrong idee. “Ef we said sperit dances, et would be better. The In- juns dresses up fanciful, w’arin’ white shirts when they can git em; white meanin’ purity ter them, same’s et does with us. And then they does ther dancin’ ter induce ther sperits to hear °em an’ answer thar prayers. “They think ther world is full 0’ sperits, good and bad an’ all other kinds; thar is, ’cordin’ ter their notion, sperits in ther hills, in the woods, in ther worter, in fire, in ther air—everywhar ; an’ all these sperits has powers, and has got ter be appeased an’ made friendly. So they dances ter them sperits, and prays ter ’em, and likewise petitions this hyar new Indian Messiah. “Ef redskins hed more knowledge, things might be dif- ferent; when they git et, though, most of ’em aire goin’ ter be good Injuns.” “By which you mean dead ones?” “Ther same. Mebbeso you can change a redskin ef you ketch him young ernough, but yer cain’t ever change the old ones; thet’s my opinion. So, when the medicine men gits ’em up ter ther proper ‘pitch, they’re goin’ to strike at whatever white man happens ter be near, and continner et, with ther idee thet they can wipe ther white race clean off ther map.” “It’s a suicidal idea.” “Tobyshore; but ther reds don’t know et; they ain't never seen but a few white men, as ye may say, and don’t know much about ther millions of palefaces thet you an’ me knows erbout.” “So, after all, it is your opinion that there will be an Indian war?” I aleeee “Unless what ?” “Unless Buffler Bill kin stop et.” PCat hier? “Ef any white man on the yearth kin, et’s him; thet’s my say-so.” “He is here?” “Ef he is, I ain’t knowin’ ter et; but he’s comin’—he’s on his way. I come pikin’ in hyar yistiday bercause | heard he war ter be hyar; and a thing o’ this kind ole Nomad wouldn’t miss fer a good deal.” “I should like to meet him; I’ve read and heard a great deal about him.” “Likewise other people has, sonny ; he’s thet cellerbrated thet he cain’t go any ole place but what et is: ‘Hat’s of and cheer fer him!’ I’m reckonin’? when he comes he'll have some good men with him; mebbeso thar will be Major Gordon Lillie—you’ve heard o’ him; and also, p'raps, Wild Bill. And thar’ll be others. I’m expectin’ he'll shore have along his Piute.” ‘An Indian?” “Ther cutest on this footstool; jest on’y a boy in y’ars, but smart ez any steel trap; he’s been wi’ Cody some time now—name is Little Cayuse. Then thar is ther baron.” “And will he bring soldiers?” “Et’s not likely; he'll try suthin’ else fust. Accordin’ ter ther way I’ve sized things up hyar—ef he did bring soldiers, he’d feel like usin’ “em on the ornery white mem that has been hangin’ round this reservation, stirrin’ up‘ trouble. “But fust you'll see Buffalo Bill and his pards.” CHAPTER II. fi fF LITTLE CAYUSE FALLS INTO TEMPTATION. While Harbison was interviewing old Nick Nomad for the benefit of his newspaper, Little Cayuse was enjoyis Potlatch with some Indians he had fallen in with on the trail far out beyond the agency buildings. Though Little Cayuse loved Buffalo Bill, ‘and was 38 faithful to him as any dog, he was still an Indian; 50 TR teed AQ 9 2 oa LABRET SB EEL ETAL 4 5 . was negro, instead of white. This was a fact which did “You know um Buffalo Bill?” he queried. : not add to his good looks, for he was much darker than Black Joe shot him a glance; and Walking Elk, whe C an Indian, and on a typical Indian face he had a flat, was opening one of the tins, looked up with interest. y negroid nose. White Feather, gathering fagots for a quick fire, stopped § This specimen was known as Black Joe. The two full- and stared at the Indian boy. i: blooded Indians with him were Walking Elk and White “You know um Pa-e-has- ee >” added Little Cayuse, shift- Feather. The latter wore stuck in his scalp lock a feather ing to Buffalo Bill’s Indian nam>. d that had undoubtedly once been Lae but could no longer “Wuh! !” Black Joe grunted. “Him good man. Me heard bg he called that by any stretch of tHe imagination. of. him.” 7 These three Indians came riding from the east—the “Me go agency meet Pa-e-has- ka,” confided the In- 5 direction of the agency; Little Cayuse came riding from dian boy, swelling proudly. “Me Pa-e-has-ka’s friend, Pa- : the west, going toward the agency. e-has-ka scout; me all time go with Pa-e-has-ka.” i When ‘they saw him, they pulled in their caballos, yank- “Wulh!” was the noncommittal grunt. ing cruelly on the rude rawhide bridles. And they ‘looked “Pa-e-has-ka agency?” Little Cayuse asked. P him over with keen, searching eyes. “No; him not come agency,” said Black Joe. ¢ “How!” said Walking Elk. “When um come?” asked Little Cayuse, anxious on that “How!” the Piute responded. point. He flicked his black eyes critically over their mounts ‘“Mebbeso soon; mebkiso nex’ week; mebbeso to-mor’.” af and their weapons. Their caballos were “paints ;” their Then they did not know when Pa-e-has-ka would reach a weapons the newest fashion in rifles, with bulging cartridge the agency. i belts strung round their middles, and the handles of knives Little Cayuse tried again. 5 io sticking up out of the belts. : : “Pa-e-has-ka friend agency ?”. id _“Good gun—good caballo,” said Little Cayuse; “where Black Joe stared, then comprehended. A te git um?” There were no white men at the agency, he said, but a : “Git um agency,” said Walking Elk. “You go agency?” the agent himself; so of course none of Buffalo Bill’s Little Cayuse nodded. friends could be there. i af “Me go agency,” he said. Black Joe informed the Piute that. he and his com- a ‘a Walking Elk squinted an eye at the sun. panions had left the agency that morning, and that when i ‘il “Huh! he grunted. “Eat time.” they left there was not even talk of any white men com- He flung off the back of his mount, and the ofhee In- ing. a dians, looking at him as if for instructions, followed. his But there was talk of Indian trouble—he admitted that. : example. Some of the Sioux were dancing and making war talk. From the cantle of his agency saddle Walking Elk un- He did not conceal the fact that his sympathies were hooked a bag of food. with the Indians, notwithstanding that he had declared “You like um eat?” he said, looking at Little Cayuse. himself an agency scout; which naturally would be ex-. It was an invitation which an Indian could not resist. pected to array him on the side of the’agent. But he Pg “Huh!” the Piute grunted, with delight. “Yes, me like hated the agent; there was left no question on that eat.” point. He, too, swung to the ground, slipping his arm through Little Cayuse and Black Joe got on famously in their a the bridle reins as he landed on his feet. Then he looked efforts at conversation and mutual understanding, for when i with kindling interest at the food which Walking Elk they could find no English words which fitted, they eked ole was producing from the bag. It was like the feats of the matter out with signs. a magician; his hand dived in and came out, and always The Indian sign language is a wonderful thing. It can \ 4 held something to make the Piute’s eyes water and his express all the ideas which an Indian ever finds it need- i stomach turn flipflops. ful to convey. And all the tribes understand it, from the ( “4 “Where you git um?” the Piute demanded. Missouri River to the Pacific Ocean, and from the Mexi- | nf There were tins of meat, fruit, baked beans; and on top can boundary to the Canadian dominions. Its construc- i | tL of all a big loaf of bread. tion was made necessary by the well-known fact that the ia he “Agency,” said Walking Elk laconically. “Tie um caballo scattered tribes speak many languages and dialects utterly i eo one : : dissimilar. oe The Piute tied his caballo to the nearest bush, along- Little Cayuse even described the appearance of Buffalo side the caballos of the three Indians, tied up there by Bill, so that Black Joe and his friends, never having Black Joe. : : : seen the king of scouts, would have been able to recog- Then he stood looking at Black Joe. He did not like nize him at once; and it was all done in the sign language. re _an Indian who showed negro blood, but he concealed the . With a sweep of his hand to the back of his neck, he let e dislike. 5 Bs : them know that Pa-e-has-ka wore long hair; and with Huh! he grunted. “Me all same Little Cayuse; all pulls at imaginary mustaches and imperial he conveyed a same Piute. ; on ‘ mental picture of those facial ornaments. He let them i “All same Sioux,” said Black Joe; “all same Black know that Buffalo Bill was usually to be found mounted i tin’ Joe.’ : : by straddling two fingers of one hand over a finger of the I, ing “4 Little Cayuse jerked his head toward the other In- other hand. Finally he described the scout’s horse, made i nen ey quick jumps with his fingers to show how speedy it was, i up All same Walking Elk; all same White Feather.” _ and gave its name—Bear Paw. To do that he gave the iu It was easy to differentiate them; the soiled white Indian sign for bear, coupling to it the Indian sign for feather did that. Lo) paw. Some of the signs, many of them, were arbitrary, “How you git um grub—so much heap plenty grub?” ut the three Indians undestood them’ as readily as if said Little Cayuse. friend’ ok Walking Hik? coi they had been words and sentences in the Sioux tongue. eT cae Woe rik” » said Black “The reader may be sure that on top of all Little Ca- Sire dani guns and ca’tridge ?” ‘ yuse heaped up much praise of Pa-e-has-ka, and visibly i “Wuh,” was the affirmative. | peace with pride because He was Pa-e-has-ka’s Indian iv “Plenty good agent,’ commented the Piute. : ring “We Indian scout,” said Black Joe. _ The fire was roaring, and the tinned goods were warm- the The Piute’s eyes sparkled, for this meant that the ing up in some black pans that had been produced, before three Indians were connected with the agency as scouts, Black Joe and Little Cayuse got through their exercise in a and therefore were friendly to the white men. gesticulations. 2 NEW whenever he fell in with Indians of the friendly variety, he hobnobbed with them as much as possible. The Indians he met were three in number; that is, if the half-breed may be counted in. He was not an or- dinary half-breed; the half of him that was not Indian “Huh!” he said, this time approvingly. BUFFALO BIEL WEEKLY. “Vou Indian scout?” Black Joe questioned. Little Cayuse hesitated; but not for long. He was too proud of his position as the favorite Indian scout and companion of Buffalo Bill to deny it when there seemed no need. As soon as the meal was ready, they fell to, eating with REA AS REAL Cas tt AR AE gO LS AES a AR A he IR I RAO Ae RS A RR IN A +e a ec NEW BUFFALO voracious Indian appetites. Half the tins were emptied before their tightening belts called a halt. The tin cans emptied were thrown away, and the black pans scraped clean and restored to the cantles from which they had been taken. : Then Black Joe produced a bottle of fiery liquor. Little Cayuse beheld it with uneasiness. : “How!” said Black Joe, sticking the bottle under his. negro nose and tilting its bottom skyward. : He lowered it only when Walking Elk showed signs of impatience, which he emphasized with grunts of disap- proval. : “Fire water heap good!” said Black Joe, when reluc- tantly the bottle came down. Walking Elk went through the same performance, and declared with equal gusto that the fire water could not be better. Ditto, White Feather. Little Cayuse stared with unblinking eyes, and though he said nothing, like the parrot, he was doing a lot of thinking. In the first place, he knew that whisky may not be sold to a reservation redskin without a clear violation of the law; and, in the second, he was sure the Indian agent would not have given it to them. So it was clear that they had stolen it. There was still a quarter of the liquor in the bottle. White Feather handed it. over to the Piute. “Me no like um,” said Little Cayuse. He did like it, and his eyes glittered, but he had him- self too well under control to give way to that liking. Pa-e-has-ka would be furiously angry, he knew, if he touched the whisky. So he shook his head, while his glittering eyes belied him, and repeated: “Me no like um.” a The three Indians were not sorry, and they made short work of what remained in the bottle. An Indian must never hurry when he is doing the social act; so, though he wanted to be on his way to the agency, Little Cayuse lingered, talking in the sign language and using his mutilated English. Then temptation struck him again when Black Joe drew out of his tattered blanket a pack of greasy playing cards. Your true Indian is a born gambler, and he did not have to acquire the vice after the coming of the white men, as he did smallpox and his love of fire water. Long centuries before the caravels of Columbus cut the glassy waves in the port of Palos, the Indian, we may well be- lieve, was an enthusiastic gambler; no doubt he was so from time immemorial. He did not use cards, that is all. But now the redskin that does not know the exciting game of poker would be a curiosity worthy to be placed in a museum. And he will gamble away everything that he has, even his pony and his squaw. Little Cayuse’s black eyes glittered again when he saw the greasy playing cards. Still, he knew that he ought not play; yet here he could not refuse the invitation. If he drank fire water, that would make him drunk, and Pa- e-has-ka would know about it; but if he played, and did not lose, Pa-e-has-ka could be kept in ignorance, Little Cayuse believed that he could win; he had always been lucky, So he scraped up some earth and threw bits of it to the four winds, muttering incantations; then set into the game. A gaudy blanket spread on the grass by the trail was the green cloth for this layout. Black Joe slid the cards through his grimy fingers ae gave them to Little Cayuse to cut; then began to eal, “You got um blanket?” he asked. Little Cayuse had a very good blanket. Black Joe proposed that blankets should be gambled for first. Little Cayuse won, then won again; and then he began to lose. . His winnings melted away. He lost his blanket: then he lost his revolver. His belt of cartridges and his knife followed; and finally he staked his pony, though he loved it better than anything else in the world. The Indians were “skinning” him, and he did not know ' then he decided he could not do it. BILL WEEKLY. it, and soon he would have lost his pony, if an interrup. tion had not come. A mule brayed on a hillside not far off. It brought the three Indians to their feet and caused them to reach for their weapons. This was strange, too, if they were honest redsking and no Indian trouble was on. Little Cayuse would have noted it instantly, if his heart had not been boiling so in fear of losing his pony, Already he saw in imagination the terrifying frowns of Pa-e-has-ka. And if he lost the pony, what would the great Pa-e-has-ka say? The Piute felt that he would be ruined and disgraced forever. “Stay um here!” Black Joe shot at him in a low grumble. - Snatching up their rifles, the three Indians slid off like snakes through the grass and scattered bushes, in the di- rection of the hilltop. CHAPTER, Lil, STARTLING EVENTS. oa braying of the mule was a stiggestive thing to the jute. The Dutch pard rode a mule, and it had a habit of lift- ing its unmusical voice inopportunely. So Little Cayuse let his searching black eyes stray to the hilltop and along the slopes of the hill. But he saw neither mule nor man. If he had been cettain that the braying mule belonged to the Dutch pard, and particularly if he had suspected that the Dutch pard was in danger, the Piute would have been also on his way to the top of the hill, with the tdea of protecting him. Ps But there was no certainty of that; while, on the other hand, there was a dead certainty that the Piute had lost blanket, revolver, and cartridges, and had been on the point of losing his beloved caballo. He looked mournfully at the articles which Black Joe had hauled over to his side of the blanket, and mourt- fully at the pony tied near by to a bush. Then a temptation beset him. With the three Indians out of the way, there was nothing to keep him from seizing the things he had lost at cards, mounting the pony, and riding hotfoot for the agency. And if he appealed there to the Indian agent, who supposedly was opposed to Indians gambling, he could pos- sibly retain the things he had lost. And the pony would. be safe. Little Cayuse fought this out, and it was a hard fight; If he did, he could never again look the three Indians in the face, and he | would hate himself for being a sneak and a thief. But this mental battle which raged so hotly kept the Piute from fixing his attention on the hill. When at last he looked off at it, the three Indians wert out of sight and he saw nothing moving. Staring moodily now at the top of the hill, Little Cayuse put in an uncomfortable fifteen minutes dreading te wrath of Pa-e-has-ka when he‘learned of this gambling bout and its result. Then a shot sounded up there, and an Indian yell; he saw the blue smoke drifting. Coming to his feet with a jump, he grasped his rifle, no longer his. ‘Huh!” he grunted. “Mebbeso fight—huh ?” ‘ Then the three Indians came: in sight, tumbling in W haste down the hill. ‘ Apparently they had walked into a trap of some kind, and were making all haste to get out of it. Little Cayus watched for the appearance of their enemies behind them. _ But he saw only the three Indians, running for their lives, They were in such wild haste that they took ston and bushes as hunters take ditches and stone walls. Not did they try to screen themselves, and that was pectlat for enemies behind might have shot them as they fled. __ Still the supposed enemy on the hill did not come ot into view; whereat the Piute marveled. “Wuh!” he grunted, staring until his eyes became ® rae as polished shoe buttons. “Mebbeso um spirits ild vns the be low the ift- use ong nor ged ed ave idea thet lost the Joe rfl was lost the who 08 yuld, “ind, yuse hem. ‘eit ones Not iat, 1 out e as its— NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. It was a new thought—that the spirits of the hill had frightened the Indians and set them to flight. If that were s0, thought the Piute, perhaps that had not been the braying of a mule, but a ‘sound made by the spirits to lure the Indians to the spot, so that they might be punished or annihilated. He was glad that he had not gone. The three Indians came up at a tearing gait. They had run so wildly that they were breathless, their nostrils ‘i hot, and their black eyes seemed starting from their eads. - “Mebbeso’ tim spirits?’ suggested the Piute, shouting the question. The three Indians, not answering, began to cut the raw- hide lariats holding their caballos; and they snatched up guns and cartridge belts and other gear in startling haste. They intended to fly at once, that was plain. Little Cayuse began a second question, but before he had worded it. other startling things began to happen. Wild-riding horsemen came into view both before him and behind him, dashing out suddenly—so suddenly he could hardly believe his eyes, for he had not heard them. ‘But the reason for that he guessed, and knew he was tight as soon as the horses came nearer—the hoofs of the horses were deadened by being wrapped in strips cut ftom blankets. Little Cayuse knew now that these horsernen were the enemies from which the Indians had fled But the horsemen were themselves Indiafs. As they wore a sort of uniform, he knew they were Indian police, such as aré attached to every reservation. And that proved quite clearly that the frantic trio, 50 bent now in getting away, were not the honest Indian scouts which they had claimed; they were frauds and liars, and very likely had stolen the food and the arms and the other things they had with them—perhaps had even stolen the ponies they rode. Little Cayuse was in the midst of bad company. Nevertheless, while the three redskins were so frantic in their haste, he stood still, only walking over to his caballo and laying his hand on its muzzle, thinking to quiet it. Quick as they were, Black Joe and his companions were not quick enough. The Indian police rode them down, closing in from two ways, striking with short- handled quitts, sometimes using the butts. The trio could not escape, and Little Cayuse did not try to. But he found himself struck over the head with the butt of a quirt that seemed to have a slug of lead in e for it made a cut through his black hair and drew lood. Under the force of that blow Little Cayuse went to his knees. Before he could get up, two of the Indian police had hold of him and threw him to the ground. Enraged at this treatment, Little Cayuse sputtered at them in his best English, denouncing them and using the conjuring name of Pa- e-has-ka. They paid no more heed to it than if they had never | heard the name of Pa-e-has-ka. Sullenly the three Indians captured submitted, not even replying to the berating given by the leader of the police. Little Cayuse could not understand the Sioux words which the police commander used, but he knew they were words which stung and blistered. In spite of his repeated protests. and efforts to make himself known, he was hog-tied as cruelly as the others. Not until all were secure did the Indian commander turn to him, ‘““Pa-e-has-ka!” yelped the Piute. The captain flung back a good mouthful of Sioux. “Pa-e-has-ka,” said Little Cayuse. The captain took notice and stared at him; then began to shower him with questions in most villainous English; in truth, it was so poor that Little Cayuse could not ‘make out half of it. But a number of the Indian police ringing him round and flinging words at him, he contrived to make himself understood; likewise he began to get their viewpoint. The three Indians, he learned, had stolen ponies from ‘the agency stables, and rifles, revolvers, and other things from the agency store, and had then fled; they were repro- bates, and without standing, and would be taken back LTRS AN NA RRC A i row for sevéte punishment. The police had been trail- ing the rascals, and at last had located and surrounded them. This was bad enough; though it had in it one good sug- gestion: perhaps Little Cayuse would not have to part with the things he had so foolishly gambled away. But his own position, he began to understand, was as bad as that of the captured trio. For he was supposed to be one of the renegade Indians from other tribes, who, preaching sedition and trouble, had come among the Sioux lately and were stitring up all kinds of trouble. Against this notion he protested. He declared that he was the Indian scout of Pa-e-has-ka, and he hoped that would free him. But it didn’t. Pa-e-has-ka was not at the agency, and these Indian scouts knew nothing about his coming. They knew that one or two white men were there, however. Little Cayuse flung at them the Indian name of Pawnee « Bill, but they seemed to think he was not at the agency. n he had tried the name of Wild Bill and Nick Nomad and even Baron von Schnitzenhauser, which he proriounced so that even the Dutch pard would not have récognized it, he was in despair. But with Indian stoicism he tried not to show it. Hav- ing failed, whatever happened he would meet it like a man, His hope. was that he would be taken “speedily to the agency, and that one of the white men who were Said to be there would be a friend of Buffalo Bill. But when the Indian police had tied him to his pony atid set out with their prisoners, Little Cayuse saw that instead of going in the direction of the agency, they were going away from it. ’ CHAPTER IV. THE DUTCH PARD. Though the Dutch pard, Baron von Schnitzenhauser, could be as lively as-a gnat in August, when occasion demanded or danger spurred, he loved his ea se, being in that respect much like all men of his build and superflious girth. Physically, the worthy baron was an oddity, with his apple-round body and his pipe-stem legs; and, as if this were not enough, he emphasized it by his outing clothing and his little fore-and-aft cap.. And—he rode .a mule! The baron had lost his way—he was journeying toward the agency—and had urged Toofer, the mule, to the top of the hill, where he hoped to spy the lost trail or locate himself with regard to it. But in this he failed; and, being now tired, he dis- mounted, tied Toofer, and stretched out on the ground, with his back against a big rock. After that for a time he busied himself with his long - pipe, exhaling the smoke and blowing rings, which he eyed sleepily. “Aber I ton’dt, knowed vate I am,” he mused; I do? Notting.” He did. nothing for nearly an hour, for he went to sleep. - At the end. of that time he was aroused by Toofer’s braying, and sat up with a jerk. “Vot iss?” he snarled at the mule; “you see anyt'ing, or ar-re you yoost pracdicing vor some shackass cornceérdt ? I pedt me idt iss.’ He looked round and he listened; but neither his éyes nor his ears brought him any information. “Tdt iss a mool’s foolishness,” he grumbled. He snuggled up against the rock and began to fill his big pipe. “T haf peen sleebing too long,” he said, “undt so-o I musdt now find me dot drail. Budt vare idt iss I-ton’dt know; unt vare iss dose achency I ton’dt know, neider. Oof Cody vouldt be more explanationing vhen he iss gifing orders, idt vouldt pe petter; he say:. ‘Come der achency py; unt I ain’dt knowing vare to come. . Dhis iss so big a gountry dot idt gidt losdt mit itself, unt lose me. Yaw, dot iss how idt iss.’ He scratched his match, lighted his pipe, and took a big whiff, “Ach, dot make me feel petter as yedt; goot tobacco “vot can ARAM Ry a me OA dk PR A NA 6 NEW BUFFALO ‘unt goot peer iss der stuff oof life. I am dying py inches vhen I ton’dt gidt idt. Und idt helps der vheels oof der -indellecdualidy to go roundt it; all off der schmardt Cher- -man brofessors he schmoke unt trink peer.” But the baron did not smoke very long. Toofer, turn- ing his big ears along the hillside, warned him that some- thing was moving there, and the German took a look. It was well that he did. An Indian crouching behind a rock had drawn a bead on him with a rifle. This was such an indication of hostile intentions that the baron turned over as quick as thought, interposing the rock between him and the threatening rifle; at the same time one of his revolvers leaped out, and the next instant, without exposing himself, he had fired at the Indian. It was too much of a snapshot, sight unseen, to be effective; but as the Indian did not rise and come on with a yell, as expected, the baron began to wonder if he had not hit him. With the revolver cocked and held ready, the baron bur- rowed against the ground behind the rock, and, with an ear against the earth, listened for the noise of approach- ing feet. But when the noise came, it did not advance toward him; besides, he heard a number of rustling feet, which seemed to be trying to beat the record in a race down the hill. “Vat iss < Sputtering this, Schnitzenhauser poked out his head like a wary old turtle, to behold a sight calculated to fill him with astonishment. Three Indianseone of whom had been ready to shoot him, were making desperate efforts to beat each other to the bottom of the hill. The cause of it the baron could not discover. “Do you seen anypodty—huh ?” he demanded of Toofer. The mule was also gazing down the hill, and the baron’s poration pictured a grin of sarcasm on the mule’s ace. “Idt iss to laugh—huh! I am nodt vondering. Dree Inchuns dey try to shoodt me, unt now dhey ar-re rooning like some houses afire; idt iss a buzzelmendt.” He was not puzzled long. Two small squads of mounted Indian police broke’ into sight, and he saw that they were charging with the inten- tion of getting the three Indians between them and cap- turing them. “Yaw, I see! Some arresdts ar-re being made, py der looks. Vale, dhey ought to be hung for trying to shoodt mel: : Then he saw a fourth Indian and some Indian ponies, but he was too far off to identify this Indian as Little Cayuse. He saw the Indian police close in and make their cap- ture, and he watched until they had tied their prisoners to the backs of ponies and ridden off with them. “Idt iss a kveer pitzness; budt I am knowing now Nae dose drail iss dot have losdt me; idt iss right down ale, : He turned to Toofer.. “Oof you vos nodt sooch a puddingheadt, you vouldt nodt haf losdt idt,” he said to the mule. “Idt make me ashamed oof myselluf.” Notwithstanding this condemnation, Toofer was not cast down; he seemed even to object to it, laying back his ears and showing his teeth when the baron got ready to mount. Having reached the trail, after he was sure the Indians had departed, the baron found it plain enough, and set Toofer’s head in the direction of the agency. Some hours afterward he came in sight of the squat buildings. Out in front of the agency store a group of men had gathered, and he saw familiar faces. “Whoob!” he said: “Idt iss friendts yedt already.” The group of men were ringed round two figures— Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill. Old Nomad was there, too, giving advice and laughing. As Toofer, driven by the heels of the German, broke into a canter, the baron saw the famous bowie knife aeons like a beam of light from the hand of Pawnee ill. BILL WEEKLY. Pawnee Bill was giving an exhibition of his really marvelous skill at knife throwing, and Cody was holding in his fingers the small objects at which the knife was hurtled. fe : Everything indicated peace and quiet; not an echo had yet reached the agency of the trouble out on the trail. The Indian police had been sent out, it is true, as every one was aware, to pursue and capture three Indian thieves who had made free with certain agency articles; but that was @ happening of frequent occurrence, and no note was made of it. Not far off was the agency prison; and when the thieves were captured, they would be per- mitted to languish in that until they had learned their lesson and come to a repentant mood. “Whoob!” yelped the baron. - He was bursting with the fact that he had news. CHAPTER Vv. THE MAKING OF A HOSTILE. Though he held it well in check, the indignation of Little Cayuse was of the boiling kind. He did not understand ‘the situation very well, but he saw enough and heard enough to let him know that the three Indians were thieves, and he was counted in with them; and that he was considered even worse, being thought an interloper from another tribe, who had no business to be on this reservation. But the thing that made him furious was the way he had been banged on the head with the loaded handle of the quirt and maltreated afterward. Blood still trickled down out of his thick hair from the scalp wound and dyed his face in red stripes. The buckskin cords cut his wrists, which were tied to- gether behind his back; his feet were held with ropes passing under his pony’s belly and drawn so tightly that they twisted his ankles. In vain he had expostulated, in vain he had tried to explain. His companions in misery were not so severely affected. The whisky they had swallowed was making itself felt, so that they could ignore, or did not feel, the pain. After a while Black Joe began to revile the Indian Police; he called them dogs and the sons of dogs. He told them they were traitors to their race; that, though their skins were red, their hearts were white. He. exhausted his limited vocabulary in venting his spite, and overdid it, for when his words stung through the thick cuticle of the commander, he drew his pony alongside and dealt the reviling prisoner a terrible blow in the face. Perhaps Black Joe deserved all he got; he was a worth- less and drunken vagabond; but that blood, and the blood spurting from Joe’s flat nose, angered Little Cayuse still more. His rage broke bounds, and he had meant to control it. ‘Coward!” he said, snapping it out with his best pro- nunciation. The commander flung him an evil look. You no sabe?” said Little Cayuse. “It is not right es strike the Indian. It is coward, when Indian ied. The commander swung his horse in again, and smashed the Piute a similar blow. “No make the talk,” he snarled. huh ! _ Black Joe broke out again, and the other prisoners joined him, made reckless by the whisky. The Indian police clubbed them over their heads with the loaded butts ef whips and slashed at them with the whip thongs. Within an hour the party came to the Indian village which had been their destination, and were swarmed on by men, women, and children. ~° > oe The village sat on a level plain, and consisted of tepees and log houses chiefly; there were a few huts of stone and mud in addition. The log houses were generally well built; they had been constructed for the reservation red men under the Supervision of the Indian agent. But Little Cayuse saw that they were now chiefly occupied by ponies, and that the Indians clung to their. old-time and familiar tepees, which they liked so much better. . “Me shoot next— NEW BUFFALO The Indian police, seeking other redskins who had been stealing from the agency store, entered the tepees, pushing and shoving the occupants roughly aside. In doing so they met revilings and many angry words. It was clear that the Indians did not like them, con- sidered them traitors to their race, and, if they had friends, they were few in numbers, The women showed a par- ticularly bitter and vicious spirit; an old squaw spit in ne face of one of the police, and was promptly knocked own. Little Cayuse writhed in his bonds when he saw that, but he held his peace now. His sympathies were all with these village Indians. For the moment his wrath even burned against the white Indian agent who had sent out the police on this raid after reservation thieves. It.is to be held in mind that Little Cayuse, while so faithful in every way to Buffalo Bill, was still an Indian, with an Indian’s feelings and natural antipathies. His heart had burned when he lost his rifle and other belong- ings; but it had not. burned against the gamblers, for he considered that loss merely gambler’s luck. When he discovered that the three Indians were thieves, he was ready to turn from them, but now his heart leaped to- ward them. He saw that the Indians here sympathized with the prisoners. Stealing is not in itself considered a crime by an Indian. In truth, it is often inculcated as a virtue, for he who can steal most successfully, if he steals from his enemies and other tribes, is held up as a great man. If, he can bring in a string of ponies, and perhaps a sea- son’s catch of fur, stolen from members of an alien tribe, he is in a position to purchase as his wife even the daughter of a chief, and she feels that she is being hon- ored when she is selected by him. To most of these reservation Indians, who were still in the blanket stage, the three who were held as prisoners had committed no crime; they had stolen from the stores of the white men, who wefe their natural enemies. And it was only because the white men were so strong and could send soldiers and fast-shooting guns to back up their claims that they submitted to what they deemed wrongs. It was very clear to Little Cayuse that the warriors itched to throw themselves on the Indian police and re- lease the prisoners; but they feared to. For experience had shown them that it would bring, the next day, hard- riding and hard-shooting soldiers, and that was a thing to _be avoided. Yet fear of the blue-coated troopers did not deter them from pelting the Indian police with hard epithets. And the amount of contempt and insult which an Indian can pack into a few sentences is something marvelous. When the rough search for violators of reservation rules, and, for thieves, had been finished, without the dis- covery of any one whom the police could arrest, they retired; and, remounting, rode away, still in a course to take them farther from the agency; far off there some- where, as Little Cayuse understood, was another village which was to be searched. Not until the end of the second day did the prisoners and their guardians approach the agency. And in that two days they had been subjected to such indignities at the hands of their ignorant and malicious captors that the memory of it would forever sting in the Piute’s brain. Little Cayuse expected now that he would be released; Buffalo Bill and his white companions could be expected to interfere in his behalf. - - But Buffalo Bill was not there. No white man was there except the Indian agent, and he was a stranger to Little Cayuse. The rough-riding Indian police, drawing up in front of the log jail, dropped from their ponies with a shout that caused the outer jail door to fly open. In the door the jailer appeared, with some of his guards. The jailer was himself an Indian, and the guards were Indians, all of the type of the Indian police. Having slid from the backs of their ponies and sum- moned the jailer, the police began to slash away the bonds of their prisoners. Black Joe was freed. first, Little Cayuse last. When the cords and ropes fell away and-the Piute was free to BILL. WEEKLY. a J dismount, he could not do it, so long had his body and limbs been restrained that day; and when he was aided to the ground, at first he could not walk. Two of the guards thereupon seized him and propelled him to the jail door, not heeding his cries for Buffalo Bill. Perhaps they did not understand them; none of them spoke or understood English very well, and the Piute’s English was of the poorest quality. As for the universal sign language, his fingers and arms were so stiff he could not have used it effectively, even if his arms had not been held by the guards. No Pa-e-has-ka appeared, and Little Cayuse, bundled bodily into the jail, was pulled along until he came to a rough cell, into which he was thrust. Then one of the guards turned a key on him and went away, leaving him to his own bitter reflections. For the first time doubts began to assail the faithful Piute. Perhaps he had made a mistake, and the great scout had not meant for him to come to this place, where an Indian friendly to white men was treated so cruelly. Or perhaps the letter he had received from Buffalo Bill had not been read to him correctly by the white man to whom he took it for reading. Apparently some mistake had been made; and if so, without Buffalo Bill to inter- fere, he did not know what might happen to him. Flung into the cell, he had staggered to the other end, which was not distant, and there sank to the floor. And now he sat in a huddled heap, his aching limbs and tor- tured mind giving him no peace. A furious resentment against the guards and jailer and the Indian police inflamed him; he felt hot inside and out. His eyes, contracting their pupils to pin points, blazed balefully, like the eyes of a snake, as he glared at the keyhole and at the little, barred window over his head, where the only light came in. He heard the other prisoners being as roughly treated; Indian Joe was swearing in his best “English, and shifting to Sioux with even greater vigor. All were making loud protests, which the guards and the police were serenely ‘disregarding. Little Cayuse forgot that the three Indians were thieves; to his heated and enraged mind they became innocent men like himself, abused and maltreated. When the Piute had crouched there half an hour or more, some one came along the corridor and unlocked his door. The Piute came to his feet, minded to spring on this man and fight his way to liberty. But the first thing he saw as the door opened slowly was. the blue nose of a revolver preceding the man. Sight of it cowed him, and he fell back, sulking. The intruder was one of the guards, and he had brought the half-starved Piute something to eat—meat and bread and cold water in a battered tin can. These he set on the floor, then backed to the door, which he had closed, and stood there, eying the prisoner. Almost as black of face as Black Joe, he was not more prepossessing. Still, if the Piute’s mood had been dif- ferent, and the man could have been considered as a friend, the guard might not have looked so malevolent. A good deal always depends on the mental viewpoint, and the Piute’s sight now was considerably awry. Instead of moving to get the food, the Piute glared at the man. “How!” the Indian grunted, perhaps desiring to be ‘civil. “Pa-e-has-ka,” said Little Cayuse ; has- ka, heh?” “Me no sabe Pa-e- has. ka,” said the guard. His revolver still swung in his right hand, and, measur- ing the distance, the wild thought came into the Piute’s brain that he might, by. a quick jump, get it, overpower the guard, and escape. Apparently the Indian read his thought ; a smile flicked like a shadow across his dark visage. “Me no like shoot um,” he warned. “Pa-e-has-ka,” the Piute repeated. “Me no. sabe.” “You know um Buff’lo Bill?” “Me no know um.” But in this the guard lied. “you know um Pa-e- He did not literally know. er RRR CIN te te em 8 . NEW: BUFFALO Buffalo Bill, yet he had seen him at the agency the day before; and he had seen Buffalo Bill, Pawnee Bill, the baron, and others ride away from the agency; they had gone out into the reservation somewhere, he did not know where, to look into this matter of the trouble that seemed threatening. “What um want Buff'lo Bill?’ the guard demanded. | “Me Little Cayuse; me Piute scout Buff’lo Bill; him friend Little Cayuse. Me want see um; no want stay in jail. The guard heard him with a crafty smile. This was nothing new; often some Indian made claim to the friend- ship of the agent. or of some white man of supposed in- fluence when he found himself in trouble; he did not doubt it was so here. “Why make um steal?” he demanded. - “Me no make um steal,” said the Piute hotly. “You with um Black Joe and Walking Elk and White Feather; they bad Indians, make um steal; take gun, ca’tridge, take all heap many thing; make um big steal and git in jail. You no like jail, why you do?” He meant: “Why, then, were. you associating with them?” Evidently his code proclaimed that one who as- sociated with a thief was as bad as a thief. Little Cayuse tried to explain, but he did not make great progress in clearing the matter up in the mind of the guard. “Me want see white agent,” he said finally, in despera- tion, though he did not know that the white agent would be friendly. “No can see,” said the guard. “Want see agent; no like um stay jail.” ‘No can see.” “ Little Cayuse sank back in despair. “You no want um grub?” said the guard, swinging the ae of the revolver round toward the food on the oor. Little Cayuse ignored it and made another appeal to see the agent, which was again curtly refused. “How long time stay jail?” he asked then. “Long time. Bad Indian steal, stay jail long time.” - “One sun, two sun?” Little Cayuse held up his fingers, counting on them. “Mebbeso many moon,” said the imperturbable guard. Many moons! That was an appalling prospect. “Mebbeso hang um bimeby,” said the guard, to make the. prospect even more dismal. “Black Joe mebbeso hang um; make um knife work when um steal; mebbeso all friend to Black Joe hang um.” : Apparently the thought did not disturb him in th east. But Little Cayuse shrank back against the wall as if a blow had been aimed at him. “No eat um grub?” said the guard, recurring to it again. Little Cayuse was too miserable to be hungry; but he knew he ought to eat something, and he made an effort. But the food turned his stomach. He pushed it away after an effort. But the water he drank greedily; he was feverish. Seeing that the Piute intended to eat no more, the guard asked some questions before turning to leave; he wanted to know about the Piutes, a far Western tribe he had never heard of, and of whose existence even he seemed to have doubts; and he queried closely as to why Little Cayuse had been found on the reservation. It gave the Piute a chance to repeat his statements that he was the scout and friend of Buffalo Bill, and had come to meet him; but the guard evidently considered that nothing but a lie, and declared in as clear language as he could muster that if Little Cayuse was not really a friend of the thieves with whom he had been caught, he was one of those outside Indians who had been com. ing in lately, preaching strange doctrines of a Red Messiah and the destruction of the white men, and creating all: sorts of trouble. It appeared to be his opinion that all Indians of that stripe caught on the reservation ought not to be treated even as leniently as notorious thieves ; they ought to be strung up without judge or jury. “You git um hang bimeby mebbeso,” was his parting shot. _ Then he retreated, locked the door carefully, and the { BILL WEEKLY. Piute heard his moccasins sliding with scuffling motion along the dark corridor. o Once more Little Cayuse was alone with his thouglits, and they were blacker and more bitter than before. “Pa-e-has-ka!” he wailed softly to himself in his de- spair, as, cuddling against the wall, with his blanket drawn round him, he watched the daylight fade out of the high, barred window and the darkness of night come down. But Pa-e-has-ka did not come to answer his despairing call, CHAPTER Vio THE JAIL BREAKERS. It was long past midnight when Little Cayuse was aroused from the catlike sleep into which he had fallen. Starting up, scared out of his brief dream that a hang- man was chasing him, he with difficulty repressed the cry that bubbled to his lips. Then he sat shivering in the darkness, listening. The sound came again, as of some one pawing over the cell door. Then he heard a scratching of metal, and a moment later a click like the slipping of a bolt in a lock. Still dominated by the-terror of his dream, the Piute tried to draw himself together to resist an assault, for that was the thing he now anticipated. The lock clicked again; then the door opened softly. As it did so, he beheld dimly outlined in the opening the shape of a man, but whether a white man or an Indian he could not at first tell. Then the man spoke, and the Piute knew him for an Indian; the low gutturals spoke words of hope, too. The door of the cell closed, a match scratched with the sound of a gnawing mouse, and a tiny flame sprang up, It was shielded in the Indian’s cupped hands; and, being raised aloft, it revealed the Indian’s face. The Indian was Black Joe, the worst of the Indian reprobates. Flinging one keen glance at the Piute, as if to make sure he was there and was not bound, .the brown palms squeezed together on the match, and it went out. The illumination had been momentary, yet it had been enough. “You like um go?” Black Joe whispered. Little Cayuse started up again, his numbed brain re- sponding to this nature call. “You like um go now?” Black Joe added. “How go?” said Little Cayuse doubtfully, though the fact that Black Joe stood before him indicated that some sort of miracle had been performed. “You come,” said Black Joe, and turned to the door, which he opened with quiet celerity. Drawing his blanket round him, Little Cayuse rose and followed stealthily. Out in the corridor, Black Joe took the precaution to stop and relock the cell door. He had a bent wire, which he was using for a key. Little Ca- bee had seen it in his hand when the match flamed in the cell. The lock clicked, and Black Joe softly shook the door; then he moved on along the corridor, silently as a creep- ing wolf. Little Cayuse skulked at his heels. The corridor was dark, but that did not trouble Black Joe; he slid along with soundless moccasins until he came to another door. This door was not locked; Black Joe had already seen to that; and when he and the Piute had slipped through it, Little Cayuse became aware that other men were in the corridor. When they gurgled in whispers, he recognized their voices; they were Walking Elk and White Feather. And he knew now that this was a clever attempt at jail break- ne, no doubt led by Black Joe, the master spirit among em. 4 There was still time for Little Cayuse to back out and refuse to go farther; but he had no thought of it. The cell he had occupied was so loathsome to him that he wanted to get as far from it as he could, and at once. To remain in it many moons, as the guard had indicated might be his fate, he was sure would kill him; the little time he had been there had choked him with the horror of it so that he could hardly breathe. he corridor probably was not much better, so far as Po NEW. BUFFALO ‘ good air was concerned, but to the Piute the air seemed like wine. And outside, beyond the log walls, the wind was blowing free; that west wind which he had felt on his face as he was pushed into the jail, and had thought of as coming from the far-off home of the Piute people. It had in its sweet wings the grass scents, the woods’ odors, the breath of the flowers, all the wild things that he loved; and he had sniffed them, or thought so, even though autumn had drawn well on and snowy winter was right at hand. But even in winter the prairie winds were pure and sweet; even the lash of a blizzard had never a taint in it. Little Cayuse was somewhat surprised that no guards were seen; but when he passed along the hall that led from the door, he stumbled against something soft in the dark. Putting out his hand to save himself from a fall, it touched a human form, which was doubled up on the floor; and when the hand came away, there was a taint of blood odor on it. Little Cayuse recoiled as if he had stepped on a snake, which brought a warning grumble from Black Joe. _ Somewhat terrified, he stumbled on after the three In- dians, with the knowledge that Black Joe had added mur- der to his crimes—had killed one of the guards of the prison. That was why he had been able to move round so readily; the guard on duty at that hour had been put out of the way. It went to prove that though Black Joe had been searched, as all had been when they were captured, he ‘had managed to conceal and had kept hidden a knife on his person. And he also must have then had the wire which afterward he had used so cleverly as a key. Having added murder to his other crimes, Black Joe would surely now be hanged if caught. And—this made the Piute’s heart jump—all who were escaping with him might be hanged with him, if they were caught. Then, the manifest thing to do was not to get caught. Little Cayuse crowded close against the heels of Black Joe, as if seeking protection. He wished that Black Joe had not slain the guard; it might have been avoided. But perhaps Black Joe was angered, and perhaps it was nec- essary. Anyhow, it was done, and could not be undone; and the thing now was to get away. If another guard appeared to block their way, the Piute knew that another notch in his stick would be cut by Black Joe, who must have been in a thoroughly des- perate mood. They descended a flight of steps which the Piute re- membered and came to the outer door. Here Black Joe was baffled for a while, while the others stood in breath- less silence; but even this larger and heavier lock yielded at last’ to his deft manipulations, and the door was opened. There remained now only a stockade wall and the heavy gate set in it. Black Joe did not trouble to try this gate: the thing he did, when through the door, was to close and lock it behind him, then stand in silence in the darkness, listen- ing. The night was black with clouds; just the night for his purpose. He was listening to make sure that no guard was upon or near the wall. When sure there was none, he shuffled over to the wall, grunted an order, and bent his back. Walking Elk scrambled up and stood there; then White Feather fol- lowed, mounting to the shoulders of Walking Elk. Drawing himself to the top, White Feather poised a moment and dropped to the ground outside, landing so softly that he made hardly a sound. Black Joe grunted to Little Cayuse. It was the young Piute’s time to follow, and he did it; he slid up, and up again; then, standing on Walking Elk’s shoulders, he hooked his fingers over the top of the pali- saded wall. The next moment he, too, went over, and was beside White Feather. “Osh! White Feather grunted, in approval. Walking Elk, from the shoulders of Black Joe, gained the top of the wall, stopped there, leaned back, and drew Black Joe up by his hands. Both were now on the wall, and they came over, landing easily and silently. “Come!” Black Joe grunted. BILL WEERIY. 9 Even in the darkness, Little Cayuse could see the loom of the storehouse of the agency. Black Joe approached it, the others following Indian fashion; it was at first his apparent intention to try to rob it again. His arms and everything had been taken, and it was the same with his companions. But when he had stood a full minute looking the build- ing over in the gloom, he changed his mind, gave a grunt of dissent, and moved off in another direction. His destination was now the corral containing the ponies kept at the agency. By the corral was also a stable, in which horses were kept. ; Little Cayuse’s heart leaped at the thought of again securing his caballo, but if it was in the corral he could not see it, and when he tried to call it, using a low tone, Black Joe made him stop. The ponies were too lively to be captured readily in the corral, and the Indians went on to the stables. Here they found horses, not Indian ponies; the one led out for Little Cayuse by Black Joe was a big, rawboned brute, fifteen hands high. It had no saddle, but Black Joe had slipped a bridle over its head. When four horses were brought out, the command was given by Black Joe, and the four Indians, mounting, rode softly away from the stable. Not until they were far beyond its shadows did Little Cayuse dare to breathe freely. Then, with the west wind striking again on his brown cheek, and fluttering his scalp lock and eagle feather, his courage came again, and with it an increased resolve not to be captured. If he had known where Buffalo Bill was to be found, he would have tried at all hazards to reach him; but so far as his knowledge went Buffalo Bill was not’ even in the country. Apparently some mistake had been made, and he had been led by it into the wrong place. Perhaps —as he was but mortal and subject to many dangers— Pa-e-has-ka was dead. What the Piute really knew was that he was now alone, forced to rely on himself, pushed or dragged unwillingly into an unpleasant situation; but compelled by it to go on or return to that jail. He declared inwardly that he would never return to it now alive. For a long while the cautious Indians kept the horses at a walk. Not until they were more than a mile from the agency buildings did they change this. Then they stopped; and Black Joe, leaping down, began to tear his blanket into strips. i The others knew what that meant, and they, too, slid to the ground. Taking the strips flung to them by Black Joe, they began to tie them deftly about the hoofs of their horses, using strings torn from the blanket. In this sort of work Little Cayuse was as deft as any one, and he was not behind in finishing. Yet, after it was done, Black Joe went round carefully and inspected the work, The horses were moved on faster now; and when an- other mile or so had been put behind they were set at greatly increased speed. Black Joe still led; and, following behind, Little Cayuse discovered that he was making devious evolutions. Black Joe would ride a mile in one direction, then start off on the leg of an angle. Sometimes he would swing round - in‘a big half circle. One less experienced than the young Piute would not have known this in the darkness, but as a master of In- dian trickery and cunning he himself had few equals; so he knew that Black Joe was not only blinding the trail with muffled hoofs, but was making it so devious that even the best of trailers would find the task of following it a hard: one. Hour after hour the crafty Indians kept this up, until the clouds blew away and the wind increased; then they eee a course by the stars and put the horses into a gallop. Shortly before daybreak they went into hiding in a rocky country, where there were bushy hollows, in which they could conceal themselves and their horses. Here they were when the sun rose, and here they re- mained throughout the day. 10 The horses fared well enough, for there were grass and water, but the Indians had no food. They had no weapons with which to kill the few. rabbits they saw hopping about. It was this coming scarcity which he foresaw which had made. Black joe look -so longingly at the agency store, for in it he knew were rifles and cartridges. Throughout all the long. day. one or. another of the Indians lay on the flat top of a high rock and watched the level lands spread round and below them; they watched - particularly in the direction of the agency and in the direction of the nearest Sioux village. Little Cayuse was taking his turn on top of the. rock, in the middle of the afternoon, when a group of horse- men came into the field of his vision toward the agency. His low call brought Black Joe scrambling up beside him. “Huh?” grunted Black Joe, in a tone of questioning. Little Cayuse pointed a lean, brown finger. By this time Walking Elk was climbing the rock, and behind him came White Feather. Crouching and lying on its top, they studied the distant, shadowy mass, whose movement proclaimed it to be animate, and’ probably horses. “No buffalo,” said Little Cayuse; “um all gone. But mebbeso. wild. horse.” “Wild horse all gone, too,” gutturaled Black Joe. “All things all gone—deer, antelope.” “Mebbeso they come back,” grunted Walking Elk. “Meb- beso all thing he come back, and white man die and buried.” Pay “So say Red Messiah,” Black Joe muttered. ‘He flashed a look at Little Cayuse. “You know Red Messiah—huh?” “Me no sabe,” Little Cayuse confessed. © “Piute live all same way out Salt Lake—you say.” “All same close by.” fae “Huh ey 7 iil 6 " 7 “What mean?” demanded the Piute. “Red Messiah come Salt Lake; Piute no see um; meb- beso no. Piutes.” Little Cayusé repressed his resentment; he could not now afford to quarrel with these men, but he reiterated his statement that the Piute tribe lived in a far Western country, and in that country was the Great Salt Lake. Black Joe shook his head. “Mebbeso,” he said, again studying the distant cloud- covered cavalcade. “Red Messiah bring flood. You know um flood ?”’ Yes; Little Cayuse had heard of the flood; ‘a gracious lady had told him the old Bible story in a mission school, where he had tried to complete his knowledge of Eng- lish, and he had never thought to question what she had told him. Also she had spoken to him of the Messiah—the Messiah that had come to the white men; and he had accepted that, too, as literally true. So when he began to hear of a Messiah that was to come to the Indians, it did not seem strange. If a Mes- siah had come to the white. men, why should. not one come to the Indians? The white men’s Messiah had come to help them, and the Indian Messiah had come to help the red men. And there was to be another flood; only this timevit was to be a flood of mud and turf, that should obliterate the white man and all his works; but the In- ae were ” be sade is was because the white men had used th i so badly; had taken their lands, in most part; hee or run off all their game animals, and placed the Indians in subjection. There was no more hunting; and, even if there were, the white men would not let an Indian hunt: and the Indians were herded like cattle on reservations. Once the freest of all human creatures, the Indian had now no freedom of action left. And if he violated any of the innumerable rules which the white man made for him, and which he could never understand, or could not be made to consider binding, then he was thrown into jail; and if, in his anger, he resisted and killed a white i 1 is ve ees, in, ack Joe poured all this into the ears of Lit vas they lay together on the flat rock. Little Cee most of it, if not all, even if Black Joe’s mastery of Eng- lish was villainous. While they talked, and Little Cayuse drank in this new ‘NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. Indian doctrine, and was told that medicine men had seen this new Red Messiah and talked with him en the shores of the Salt Lake, and had returned to their people with his promises on their lips, the group of horsemen came nearer, and at last were recognized as such. Still the four Indians lay on the rocks, watching. It -was apparent that the horsemen were not coming toward the rocky region, but going toward the Indian village. When still nearer, they were seen to be Indian police, with a white man in their midst. Little Cayuse’s heart leaped at the suggestion that it might be Pa-e-has-ka, but before long all became sure that it was the Indian agent. Black Joe assured the Piute that the agent was the only white man in the country at that time, and that none had been at the agency lately, and, so far as he knew, none was expected. The sincerity of his tone made a deep impression on the young Piute. Pa-e-has-ka had not come to this agency; a great mistake had been made somewhere and somehow, and he now had no friends in this country out- side of these renegades. _ The horsemen passed within less than a mile and were clearly visible to the keen eyes of the Indians; then they vanished in the direction of the Indian village. As soon as they were out of sight, Black Joe led the way down from the rock. : After that, under his command, there was quick yet effective work. The horses ‘were led farther back and more securely hidden; every hoofprint was erased and scattered over with leaves strewn so naturally that the keenest eyes could not detect it. And the horses were led off with elosely muffled hoofs. When this had been accomplished, the Indians retired into the deepest part of the roeky hills, taking the same care, as they retreated, to wipe out all traces of their pres- ence, But after a time Black Joe returned alone to the high rock, as he wanted to know if the horsemen returned by that route, and particularly desired to get warning if they Bae toward the rocks for the purpose of searching them. He knew well enough that the horsemen were hunting for him and his companions, and he had a lively sense of what would happen to him if he was caught. When he came back at last to the nest in which the three had snuggled during his absence, his dark face was shining, and he announced that the horsemen had gone! back at a gallop over the way they had come; which meant that they were returning to the agency. The sun was still two hours high when the four In- dians got themselves and their horses out of the tangle of rocks, and headed away for the village, which seemed to offer safety, now that the Indian police and the agent had searched it and had gone. CHAPTER Vit. WITH THE GHOST DANCERS. The sun was setting red in the west as Black Joe and those with him drew near the village. ‘ ; It was not the village which Little Cayuse had been before, but in a general way was like it; the shelters wer tepees, and there were log houses and other houses 0 mud and stone and sticks, But the thing that most caught the attention of the young Piute was an old medicine man, on a mound i front of the village, posturing in the red rays of the dying sun and holding up the weather-whitened skull of a buffalo. - ; Black Joe pulled in his horse and shied round this fig: ure; then drew in some distance off, and sat in silenc watching him. The young Piute did not understand it then, but cam to a fair knowledge afterward of the meaning of wi he saw. es _ The old medicine man was pathetically trying to co” jure back the buffaloes. With a eyes ai he westering sun—for in that direction the Red Messiah had been a ~he was praying to the Red Messiah, asking the fylfill- ment of the promises he had sent by the medicine ™* a who had talked with him; and as he prayed and pos- tured, holding the white skull aloft, tears were running down his furrowed cheeks. In the edge of the village, men, women, and children were watching in deepest silence the incantations of the old wizard. Perhaps some of them doubted, but many believed. And all were willing to pray to the Red Mes- siah or any god, to spirits of good or of evil, for the com- ing of the things they desired. In time they, or their children, would without doubt accept the things apportioned them by the white men, and consider them good; but they had not reached that state—were far from itis ‘in short, they were stili savages, lifted out of the stone age only by the fact that the white man had come and had given them weapons and tools of steel. Their brains still belonged to the period of the stone age, and human brains cannot be made over in a day. The four Indians seeking ie hospitality of this village did not enter it until the medicine man had ended his prayers and incantations. When they entered, they were received with a clamor of questions and exclamations. Black Joe and his renegade companions had friends and sympathizers here without doubt. These friends seized on them and conducted them to: tepees. Little Cayuse . also given welcome because he had come with them. Following the questioning and the talk a supper was served, consisting principally of a mess steaming hot from a big kettle. Inasmuch as Little Cayuse had seen the preparations for this-feast, he knew that it consisted chiefly of dog, but, being an Indian, he did not disdain dog; it was as good as any other animal, and better than many, if cooked right. So he crouched i in the circle within the tepee and dipped his hand into the dish with the others, eating voraciously, for he had for many hours been half starved; and he could eat now, when he had his freedom again. Though hungry as he had been, he had not been able to eat in the jail. And.as he ate he listened to the guttural talk, under- standing none of it, though some of it he knew concerned him; but now and then Black Joe or Walking Elk or White Feather deigned to render him a translation in his best English. Ringed round the tepee were many Indians, as his ears told him, and, crowding the slit of a doorway, dozens strove to look in and to hear. Through the mouth of Black Joe, Little Cayuse asked questions about Pa-e-has-ka. Some of them knew of the great white scout by repu- tation, but they did not believe he was on or even near the reservation. On the other hand, they said that many white men were hanging round. Out to the eastward, on the border of the reservation, there was a whole vil- lage of them.. These were men who wanted to take away the land of the Indians and turn it into farms. One of the fears of the Indians was that this would happen, and they would be turned off the reservation, to wander hopelessly in a country that had been bereft of its game animals. These white men had been heard to say that soon they would have the Indian lands for farms, and usually when a white man said a thing like that it came true; in the past it had happened many times. This tribe had once been forced to move from land that the white men wanted, : and had been brought to this place. They had sent word about it to the Great Paite at Washington, but he was a long way off, and his ears were : deaf; he seldom heard the cries of his ‘red children. Hence, they were turning eagerly to this story of a Red a Messiah. If he could do the things he had promised, /) all would be well with the red men again. Through his interpreter, Black Joe, Little Cayuse tried q to tell them that if word of this could be got to Pa-e- » has-ka, the wrongs that threatened them would not be ‘ permitted. But, alas! he did not know where Pa-e-has-ka was; _ and if he should set out now to search for him, he would | be taken by the Indian police and put in jail again. Among other things, Little Cayuse discovered that the 2S fete BOR Me RR tl Bete tment A tot Ae AA ee th Ne te NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. | 4 11 Indians were making plans to conceai him and his com- panions somewhere within the village, if the Indian spolice came again. By words and signs Black Joe assured him that this could be done very readily. This made the heartsick young Piute feel very kindly ‘ toward the villagers, and elevated Black Joe and his com- panions to the position of close friends. The long talk ended suddenly at the call of the old medicine man, who had come to the door of the tepee and looked in, The Indians who had crowded there had fallen back respectfully. And when the old wizard had flashed his keen eyes over the group, whose faces were lighted clearly by the burning lodge fire, he came inside. Then his gaze settled on Little Cayuse, of whom he had apparently heard. Something in the old man’s manner made Little Cayuse stand up when the medicine man singled him out with searching glances and stepped toward him. Tall, but now slightly stooped with years, his great, gaunt frame gave ample evidence that he had once been physically a power- ful man. And there was power in him yet—power of will and determination. His voice rolled cavernously as he spoke to the Piute. “Me no sabe,” said the Piute, for the medicine man had spoken in Sioux. Thereupon the old man dropped into English, and. he used it with more ease and accuracy than any Sioux Little Cayuse had so far heard. “Piutes by the Salt Lake,” said the medicine man, ap- parently having been told that, ‘and there the Red Mes- Siah. You follow him—huh ?” Little Cayuse did not answer; there was a _ serpent glance in the eyes fixed on him ‘that had rendered him speechless; yet he had no sense of fear and loathing. “You white man friend—huh?” the medicine man de- manded. Little Cayuse tried to say that he was the friend of Pa-e-has-ka, but the words did not come. “White man no friend of Indian,” said the medicine man. The eyes looking into Little Cayuse’s seemed to burn; little flames seemed to leap in them with a ruby sparkle, Those flames shot a strange and comforting warmth to the heart of the Indian boy. The medicine man dropped back into Sioux, and droned a low chant, that struck on the ears of Little Cayuse as soothing ‘and wonderful music. The flames of ruby light in the old Indian’s eyes appeared to leap higher and higher, until the tepee was filled with refulgence. The medicine man appeared to sway and swing before him. Then again the old man returned to English: “We get ready for Red Messiah. He come—he come; he come quickly. He want you; he want all Indian. The buff’lo shall come back; the buff” lo, the wild horse, the deer, and antelope. It ‘shall be Indian earth again, the white man gone. And—now—we—go—the—dance.” The ruby light seemed to follow the old man as he re- treated from the lodge, and it had made the Piute so. warm and comfortable that he wanted to follow. All were hurrying to get out after the medicine man. Little Cayuse pushed outside with the others. A great fire was burning on the little knoll before the village, where at sunset the medicine man had postured and danced, with the whitened buffalo skull held aloft in his hands. To that fire the Indian braves were repairing. Little Cayuse saw that they wore much paint and feathers. Many of them wore white shirts, and that was strange. He hurried with the others to the fire. . As he fell in rank there, he discovered that Black Joe was by his side. The change in the renegade was so great that not until Black Joe spoke did Little Cayuse recognize him, for Black Joe wore one of the white shirts, while his face was painted a vivid red, with blue stripes on this ground- work. On his head was a sort of crown of eagle feathers. “We dance now ghost dance,” said Black Joe; “you dance um all same too—huh? Ver’ good. You be now Sioux; no longer be white man friend. White man no friend to Indian.” ta rl a ti ath hE tt th M8 12 NEW BUFFALO Little Cayuse struggled to say that he was still Pa-e- has-ka’s friend, but the words again failed him. : He did not know how it happened, or why, but in a little while he was with the ghost dancers, crow-hopping and whirling round a tall pole that had been crowned with a buffalo skull and set up near the fire. Frenzied songs shrieked into the night wind, with now. and then fierce Indian yells; hatchets and revolvers came from under dirty blankets, and were waved as the dance went on. Surrounding the ghost dancers wete the women and children, singing in high quavers, drumming with their hands, shuffling their feet, in spirit as wild as the danc- ing men, It was a violent mental intoxication, exhausting to body and mind. One by one the dancers whirled out of the crowd and fell, exhausted. Exhaustion came to Little Cayuse. He, too, spun out of the dancing circle when he could no longer go on and, falling in a grassy hollow, he lay there, staring dumbly and blindly, until unconsciousness came upon him like sleep. CHAPTER VIII. A STRARTLING REPORT. “Er-waugh!” old Nomad gulped, as a horseman bolted up to the agency store and flung out of the saddle. “Seems ter be het up some, and plumb in a hurry.” Black pipe gripped in his teeth, Nomad sauntered to- ward the stranger, who was hurriedly tying his horse to the long hitching pole. At the first glance he did not like the looks of the man, who, dressed like a cowboy, was of considerable girth and coarse build, and had an evil eye. “How!” said Nomad, without taking the black pipe out of his teeth. “Hello!” returned the stranger, glancing him over. “I wonder if the agent is here?’ “He is fer sartain,” said Nomad. “Jest step inside ther store, and y’ can glue yer optics right onter him,” “Is he alone?” “Waal, not edzackly; thar’s sev’ral men in thar with him; but I reckon he'll find time ter talk to ye, jest the same.” The cowboy-looking. man turned to the door of the agency store, ran up the steps, and passed within, followed closely by the old borderman, who from his actions was suspecting shrewdly that something was in the wind. He reached the door in time to see “the man stop in confu- sion and stare at the men before him. In addition to the Indian agent, they were Buffalo Bill Pawnee Bill, Baron von Schnitzenhauser, and Will Har- bison, the young newspaper man. Apparently they were in close conversation at the moment the man entered, The agent hopped down from the counter on which he had been sitting and stepped toward his visitor. “Something 1 can do for you?” he said. “I’m lookin’. for the Indian agent.” “Well, you see him;.if you'll step this way I'll intro- duce you to my friends. What name?” he asked, as the man followed him. “I reckon I ain’t got much time fer introductions and gin’ral talk; but-my name’s Fisher—William Fisher - short- ened by my friends to Bill,” i “You're from the boomer camp over east, I take it?” The agent knew that this was so, for he recognized the. name; the man was, in fact, the leader of the irritating land boomers who had been camped on the edge of the reservation for two months or more, and whose presence there had done more to excite Indian distrust and create trouble than all other things combined. “Well, yes; I come from there, but-—” The agent cut in with the introductions. When the names of Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill were announced the boomer could not hide the uneasiness that had been growing on him, ; “I reckon, Cody,” he said, “seein’ that you’re hyer, which I didn’t expect, that my message concerns you about as much as it does any one. Fact is, the Sioux of the northern village has gone on the warpath, and aire bustin’ BILL WEEKLY. the country wide open, and one o’ the young bucks leadin’ ‘em is your Piute.” That about Little Cayuse was too astounding a state- ment to be believed. “Ther Piute ain't hyar yit!’ snapped Nomad. “We been expectin’ him, but he ain’t got hyar.” “You're sure about the raid?” Buffalo Bill asked quietly. “Yes; that’s the most important point,” Pawnee Bill added. Nomad’s irritated voice snarled in again: “Did you see ’em raidin’?” “I didn’t myself jest see ’em raidin’, but I seen ’em this very mornin’ as they was lopin’ back into the reservation, That’s what I’m. bankin’ my ‘declaration on. I heard that | Cody’s Piute was leadin’ ’em.” “You said he war one o’ ther leaders; now you're makin’ him out ther king-pin,” growled Nomad, his hands twitch- ing. “Tdt iss so,” the baron rumbled from his chair. “He said it, unt I am knowing dot idt can’dt be der troot’. Liddle Cayuse he ain’dt dose kinds oof a hairbin.” “Let the man tell his story,” Buffalo Bill urged. “Well, I dunno but I’ve told it, all except the fringes; the northern-village reds crossed the reservation line some time last night or early this morning, and struck a bunch of the B-bar herd grazin’ over in the Sweetwater basin. These they drove off. They scared a lot of new set- tlers over there half to death and ambushed and captured a boy named Benson, a son of old Jim Benson, whose shanty stands right there in the bend of the river. The reds turned that trick while they were drivin’ out the cattle, comin’ on him some distance from the house, and findin’ the job easy. I reckon they'll torture him, even if they ain’t done it already.” i This was such serious news that it stilled even the in- dignant tongue of Nick Nomad. Buffalo Bill, Pawnee Bill, and the others began to ply the messenger with questions, : “Are you certain,” said the agent, whose name was Glover, “that the raiding reds were from the northern vil- lage on this reservation?” “I couldn’t be surer of anything,” affirmed Fisher; “for, you see, | had the luck this morning, while on my way hyer, as I said, to see em myself. They was headin toward that village.” ° } “Did you see Little Cayuse?” Pawnee Bill asked, to see if Fisher would change his answer. “Tf I did I didn’t know it; ye see, I ain’t never met uP with this particular red that I’m aware of; but men who saw him with the raiders recognized him, and said he was Buffalo Bill’s Indian, Little Cayuse.” “We're not going to believe that, you know, unless we have to,’ Cody remarked. “The settlers over there, an’ others,” said Fisher, “told me to hike to the agent’ and ask him to send for the troopers over at Fort Leatherman, They'll have heard of it before a messenger could reach ’em, and | reckon they could git here to-morrow, by hard riding.” Glover had been in the army, and had retired with the rank of major, wounds and disabilities forcing him out of the service. Having a pension, but feeling the need of something to do, certain political friends at Washing- ton secured him the position of agent at the Sweetwate! Reservation, He had often remarked that the gover ment sent him there because, having neither wife, chick, nor child, it didn’t matter where he went. ee His army experience had given him a high opinion 0 soldiers. So, at that mention of the troopers at Leatherman, he turned inquiringly to the experience “king of scouts. ao your idea, Cody? The thing looks bad, ! ad- mit. : so he was ready to answer. It looks bad; but, major, before you request t190P* and so, perhaps, make a bad. matter worse, my advice is to make a short investigation.” He turned to Fisher, ” I suppose some of the boomers pursued the reds? Fisher hesitated, f t “They did,” he admitted; “a dozen or so got away ® the same time that I set out for the agency. But ve Buffalo Bill’s quick mind had traveled ahead to that : in i q F | i there,” anid Buffalo Bill. Penade a mistalte: as I found out later; they thought the | Indians was from the southern village, and headed for said Pawnee Bill “They'll strike the wrong village, and as a “That’s likely to be serious, necarnis,” to the scout. presult we'll have another band of raiding redskins to deal | with.” “It means that we’ve got to ride/to that point at on¢e,” “Perhaps we can even yet get there ahead of the boomers.” He turned to Fisher, and, though his voice was not 4 j lifted, twin spots of red were glowing i in his cheeks. “IT suppose you think the actions of your boomers are all right?” he asked. , 4 P ae nobody.” a : i ‘to settlement, who started it? Fisher’s right eye had the unpleasant trick of flirting my) upward under the impulse of any exciting emotion, and it did it now. mL don't see why we ain’t been standin’ within our fright,” he retorted. “There’s been talk that the govern- | ment is goin’ to open tis reservation to settlers, and we’re jest camped down there, waitin’ fer it. That don’t harm “Nobody but the Indians,” “Not them, neither.” “And this talk of the reservation being thrown open Didn’t the boomers start it themselves?” “Tt’s been talked about even in Washington.” “By agents of the boomers there, and by congressmen and senators who are wanting boomer votes; Indians have Pno votes. I think it’s right to say to you, Fisher, that 'but for you and your boomers there would never have ™ been any trouble on this reservation.” 4 , , bizness,” “We ain’t preachin’ no Red Messiah an’ ghost-dance Fisher flouted, “so you can’t come at us that Way.’ “T’'m not so sure of that, for you see I have a sneak- fing notion that you boomers, and other boomers like -you, set the whole thing in motion.” Fisher’s round, smooth face, which had been uncom- W fortably red, paled with anger. gh ) | | the thing. iy A a, a a ib q 1 A “How?” he snapped. “How in thunder could they?” “Easy enough: by hiring some Indian out there to start It needn’t have cost much, for treacherous In- | dians are ready to sell themselves cheap. It might have | been started easier than that even—by putting the notion’ _ into the ignorant mind of some.medicine man. To an Indian mind it would look reasonable. As to seeing the Red Messiah and talking with him, an Indian medicine man, after he goes through his incantations, can see any- | thing; you know that, if you know Indians.” “T don’t know anything about it,” said Fisher. “But you do know,” put in Major Glover, “that more | than once your boomers have wandered over on the reser- » vation, and I have had to send my Indian police to warn | them off.” “It was because they didn’t know the ground—they | didn’t know they was on the reservation,” “Would that make any difference to the Indians? If Bere boomers weren’t camped right at the edge of the “reservation, you know that it could not have happened. D And there are other things—a good many: gambling with | the Indians; selling them whisky, cheating them.in every q | possible way.’ “It wasn’t boomers,” said Fisher, trembling; “and, any- q Bey, why do you cut at me?” a “Because you are the chief of the boomers camped out | there,” said the major frostily. Fisher swung round and started for the door. When ' near it, he stopped. i “Well, I’ve brought y’ the news; take it or leave it., | But you can bet your bioen dollar that the people and | the government won't stand no Indian raidin’, and that _this reservation will be opened to white men inside of ‘six months. Good land like this was never intended to : | be wasted on lazy redskins, nohow.” He flung out at the door and stamped noisily down the 1 steps. | said Pawnee Bill, starting up to follow. “T reckon, necarnis, that we have got to move at once, NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. CHAPTER IX. THE INDIAN STAMPEDE. The Indian agent stood on the steps as Fisher clattered away. “T ought to have arrested that fellow,’ he said. “But what would be the use, when I’ve got a punk jail and will need all my Indian police?” Buffalo Bill and his friends were hurrying toward the stables where their horses were stalled. Harbison, whose horse was tied in front of the store, ran to it and began to climb to its back. ‘ “Where away?” said the major. “You’re going out with us to the southern village, I suppose?” “Td ike to,” said Harbison. “But this other is more important.” “What is it?” “I’ve got to strike the nearest telegraph office and load this stuff on the wires as soon as I can.” -He reached down his hand as Major Glover came up to him: “Good- by,” he said. “You ve been so kind to me that you’re sure to see me again. “Are you my friend?” said Glover, clinging to his hand and looking him in the eyes. “Sure thing; I hope I haven’t given you any reason to doubt it.” “IT shall doubt it now if you do that.” “What? Get this news on the wire?” “You know what it will do!” “I know that it will be a beat, for there isn’t another newspaper man in this vicinity right now, though there’ will be plenty of them as soon as this gets out.” “Tt will bring the newspaper reporters, for one Le and it will bring boomers, and bad men besides, who will hope to make something out of this Indian trouble; they will stir it up and make it worse. And that is what your newspaper report. will do; it will go not only to your paper, but will be flashed all over the country, and the nation will wake up in the morning and read of an In- ie war. That is what the papers will make it out to e Harbison twisted in his saddle uneasily. “T’d like to oblige you, major; but this is news, and I’m here to get the news. I wouldn’t be worth a hoot iy Halifax 1th held back from my paper a thing like this,’ “Promise me, then,” said the agent earnestly, “that you won't make it worse than it is; tone it down if you can. In my opinion, Fisher’s story was more than half lies; Cody knows that he lied about the Piute, and I think he lied about the boy he said was captured. The reds may have run off a few cattle, but that is a matter that can be settled. “Besides,” said the major, when Harbison looked re- bellious and belligerent, “I could keep you from leay- ing the agency if I wanted to—as a war measure, you know. I’ve been in the army in Indian campaigns, and I know that Indian troubles justify even harsher measures. And,” he added, “you will want to come back, and I can have my Indian police bar you off the reservation.” Harbison laughed nervously. “We won’t quarrel,” he said; “as a soldier you know what duty means, and it is as much my duty to get this news to my paper as it is for a soldier to obey the orders of his superior officers. And, of course,” he laughed, i“ do. want to come back and write up whatever happens ater.” “Then you will not draw the long bow ?” “No, I will not; I promise you.’ Harbison rode away, and the major went on to the stables. The scouts were saddling hastily. Buffalo Bill came out of the stables first, leading Bear Paw with all his trappings on. Right behind him issued Pawnee Bill, with Chick Chick. Then Nomad came out, in.a bad temper; him the fat German, leading his mule. “Vot iss der usefulness oof idt?” the baron was pro- testing. “You ar-re knowing yoost der same as me dot he vos lying like a willain vhen he said dot. Liddle Cayuse vos a hosdyle.” “Anyhow, et makes me thet het up inside thet I wants and behind 14 NEW BUFFALO ter bite things,” Nomad growled. “Yit I am gittin’ plumb oneasy; et ain’t like Little Cayuse to hang back when he’s wanted, er to git lost.” : : No one thought of connecting the young Piute with the Indian prisoners who-had broken jail. Certain Indian police, who had been looking for the prisoners, having come in, they were left at the post, while Major Glover rode off with Buffalo Bill’s party. It required a brisk ride of more than two hours to reach the first, or southern, village, of the Sioux of the Sweetwater Reservation. The king of scouts had feared that the boomers, spoken of by Bill Fisher as being in pursuit of the raiders, would reach the village ahead of him; but he and his men got there first. That the Sioux were in a highly excitable state was shown by the wave of nervous fright which ran through the village on the arrival of Buffalo Bill’s small force. Twice recently the village had been searched by the Indian police, and the anxious villagers now expected a third search. But Major Glover gave them to understand at once that nothing of the kind was to be attempted. He got off his horse and made them a little speech, in which he emphasized his good will. Yet the braves only stared at him impassively. They recalled that he had con- trol of the Indian police, whose work had been conducted so harshly. But when the major introduced Buffalo Bill, saying he was the great, long-haired scout Pa-e-has-ka, the known friend of the Indians, who had always helped them when he could and only fought them when he must, there was a noticeable change in their manner, The chief warriors crowded close round the noted scout, dividing their glances between him and Pawnee Bill, whom apparently they thought his brother. “Baron, we ain’t in et fer gittin’ looks throwed our way,’ said Nomad. “I opines these hyar red bucks thinks were jest part o’ ther scenery.” “Yaw,” the baron admitted. “I am nodicing, Budt oof my beautifulness ain’dt attracdive, how can I hellup ?” It may be doubted, from the experience Little Cayuse had undergone, that the Indians here had hitherto heard much of Pa-e-has-ka. But seeing him now, his nobility ° of bearing, sympathetic expression, and honest eyes bore their own message. . It was a pleasure, too, to hear him speak, for he used the Sioux tongue with such mastery that it was as if one of their own race addressed them. He told of his ex- periences with the Sioux—with the Ogalalla Sioux, the Yankton Sioux, the Teton Sioux, and other branches of that wide-flung Indian nation; he made them feel that he understood them, and so could sympathize with them. Coming down to questions of the moment, as they af- fected these Sweetwater Indians, he made the claim that the Great Father at Washington had not forgotten them, but would protect them in all their rights. Certain Indians, he said, had raided the government “storehouse and taken things which did not belong to them ; that could not be defended, and such Indians, when caught would be punished. Search had been made for them unsuccessfully, and it was the duty of all the Sweetwater “Indians to help in searches of that kind, instead of trying to shield and hide the thieves. In addition, a report had now come that a band of young Indian braves had gone off the reservation and had raided in the Sweetwater valley and driven off cattle, and had also, it was ‘said, carried away a white boy. All Indians knew that such things could not be tolerated and that the raiders would have to be run down and pun- ished. Unless it was done, there could be no peace be- tween the white men and the red men, and peace between them was the thing most of all needed. As for the preaching of the Red Messiah, so long as it was merely a religious movement, the Great Father at Washington, who had heard all about it, could not object: but he would object decidedly if such preaching brought about anger against the white men, with murderous raids and attacks. ne you will remain peacefully in your village here take part in no raids, obey the rules of the reservation, and hide no Indian thieves, the agent will see that you are protected, and he will see that you do not suffer for BILL: WEEKLY, anything. The Great Father, through his agent here, fur. ‘nishes you now everything you need—blankets, clothing, food, and houses, ponies; he does this because the game has gone, and he is not willing that any good Indian should suffer. Is it not easy for you to stay here and enjoy these things? Is it not better than war with the white man?” Major Glover, and then Pawnee Bill, added words and promises. The mood of the Indians was changing. . Then, as suddenly as the advance of a whirlwind, the thing came which had been feared. A cowboylike company of land boomers, the band spoken of by Bill Fisher, dashed upon the scene. The Indians began to scatter in wild confusion. Some dived into tepees and out again, and began to run; others, seeking shelter in the lodges, did not emerge, but bur- rowed for concealment under blankets. The village was thrown into a panicky turmoil. Buffalo Bill threw himself before a tepee in which he heard an Indian woman screaming. “Is et a fight, Buffler?” yelped Nomad, who had re- treated and drawn his revolver. ae shooting!” said Pawnee Bill, joining his friend ody. Cowboy yells were. lifting and hoofs drumming; the Indian mother within the tepee screamed again in fright as the horsemen dashed up. It was clear that under cover of a pretense of searching for the raiders who, they claimed, had captured a boy, their real purpose was to frighten the Indians, Buffalo Bill stared in defiant anger at the boomers who were bent on scaring:the Indians, while the Indian mother, with her baby in her arms, fled from them wildly for safety. But when they saw these armed white men, and recog- nized the Indian agent, Major Glover, the roughriders reined in. The major had whipped out an army revolver, and seemed about to take a shot at the leader. ; i: you scoundrels!” he roared. “What are you doing ere?” “Well, you ain’t heard, heh?” the leader spit at him, “The place’ for your Indians is on this reservation, ain't it? And if they leave it and go on a raid, and steal cattle and capture a white boy, white men have got the natcheral right to foller ’em!” “You have no right to invade this reservation, and I now order you to leave it at once.” The boomer bent his eyes on Buffalo Bill. ; “You, Cody, what I want to say is, that your Piute Indian was seen with them raiders, helpin’ to lead ‘em. “Er-waugh!” , Nomad pranced forward, bristling like a HOTSEP IS. “Which I’m hyar ter say thet is a p’inted ie. “Tm talking to Cody,” said the leader of the boomers. “Waal, I’m talkin’ ter you, and you hez got ter heat me. Ther man what throws insults over Little Cayuse kin walk up ter ther counter and settle wi’ me.” _ “Oh, vot iss der usefulness >” begged the baron, speak- ing to Nomad. “Oof I am a liar, unt der odder veller he iss dwo liars, vot does idt make oudt? Nodding. Vhy shouldt you care for der brag oof heem.” ___ And I wasn’t talkin’ with you!” the boomer flung at the German. “No; I ton’dt vaste mein breaths mixin’ sbeeches mit der likes oof you.” +e thy “See here,” said Buffalo Bill to the boomer, “if this raid has taken place——” | i a taken place? Do you think we're lyin’ ane at “Tf it has taken place, your proper course, instead of coming here, would have been to notify the agent, aM let him use his Indian police. If they could do nothing, he had a right then to appeal for the nearest troopers over at Fort Leatherman.” “And have the cattle scattered, the boy killed, and the Indians get clean away.” id sal “I have ordered you to leave this reservation,” a a Glover angrily. “Do you mean to obey t order: “When we git them cattle,* was the stubborn reply. i Whether you ever see them or not, you will leave t a ee Ay es CR RE eet =-@= OL. WD) cont mekes CN Qt om Ww ng lan the ght der ney to vho 1ef, for og ers yer, ing ‘im, in't ttle oral d I ers. lear Se _they know me NEW reservation. You have thrown a panic into this village, as | think, intentionally. So I order you to leave !” “What about them cattle?” “Tf you don’t leave, I shall fire on you!” the major roared, “If the raided cattle are on this reservation, they will be restored, and the same is promised concerning the boy,” said Buffalo Bill. “It is all that you can ask. You had better follow the order of Major Glover, and keep off the reservation hereafter.” The boomer leader considered the matter, then yielded. He knew that he had violated the government regulations. But for that, he and his followers had meant to plead the belief that white men had a natutal and legal right to pursue Indians who had raided them, just as any one may follow and capture a thief. But here was a distinct and angry order from the man set by the government in complete control here. The rules and regulations gave to an Indian agent almost despotic power. To defy the agent was to defy the govern- ment itself. The boomers knew they could not afford to put them- , selves in the wrong in the eyes of the public. It was their play to create a widespread feeling that the Indians were in the wrong—savagely and ‘foolishly in the wrong; and because of it they deserved to lose their lands and every- thing else. The boomers could not antagonize the Indian department openly. “Well, that sounds all right,” the leader finally admitted, speaking to Buffalo Bill and then to the agent. “The ‘people over in Sweetwater valley aire natcherly ha up a heap—you'd be, under similar circumstances, But all they want is jestice and fair dealin’; they want to git their cattle back and rescue that boy and have some kind. 9’ guarantee that they won’t be hit by another raid.” - He turned directly to the agent. “T hope you understand it that way, Major Glover, Of course, we don’t want to do wrong, or be put in the wrong -and if, when I was excited a little while ago, I said any- thing that ruffled ye, or that I hadn’t ort to, I’m askin’ your pardon.” “Your apology is accepted,” fae Glover; “but the in- jury I fear you came to do is done; there go the Indians, many of them leaving the village in a panic.” “We're sorry for that,’ the boomer lied. “We didn’t intend anything like that.” “Um figgerin’ thet et war jest ther thing what you in- tended,” sputtered old Nomad. Oh, vot iss der usefulness?” begged the akon again. “I was sent here, and so was my friend and pard’ Paw- nee Bill sent here, to assist Major Glover,” said Buffalo Bill. “That was after word had reached the Indian de- partment that the land boomers were. bent on making trouble and that the Sweetwater Indians were ghost danc- ing and preaching the Red Messiah. “We came here expecting to find our greatest trouble with the Indians.” He looked straight at the boomer. “You have heard, perhaps, that I have fought Indians in every part of the country; but while I have done -that, be- cause it had to be done, even the Indians themselves, where 99 “And that is about everywhere,” put in Pawnee Bill. “The Indians themselves know that I am their friend, and that, while I will fight them when they go wrong, I will fight for them when white men wrong them or try to wrong them. It looks as if we may have a case of that a here. My battle cry is, ‘Fair treatment of the In- ians !” It became well known as the great scout’s battle cry in the exciting days that followed: The stampede begun had spread too fast and progressed -too far to be stopped after the boomers rode away. ‘A stampede is a strange thing, whether it attacks In- dians or white men or horses or cattle. It is madness. Whatever psychologists may call it, that is its best defini- tion. In the battle of Stone River, in the Civil War, a stampede taking place in the Union ranks, hundreds of soldiers rushed bodi ily into the river, and were drowned like so many panicky sheep; nothing was able to stop them; officers who leaped before them Covith waving swords were flattened as if struck by an avalanche, Every plains- man knows that cattle, when aes aan will rush off BUPFALO BILL WEEKLY, precipices; stampeded sheep will simply boil off the top of such high places, packed so closely together that they resemble a falling cascade of dirty white. The examples of the stampede madness are innumerable. Buffalo Bill was sure that the boomers had intended to create this very effect. And as it was his duty to stay the stampede if he could, he started off with Pawnee Bill and Major Glover, followed by the German and the old border- man, But their efforts were as useless as those of the offi- cers who tried to stop the stampede of scared soldiers at Stone River. Following those who, with blind impulse, had gone first, the entire village was- moving. toward the northwest im wild confusion. There lay the sheltering Bad Lands, a jumble of notched hills and hollows, with innumerable bin and caverns, a veritable refuge for every hunted thing Seeing they could do nothing, Buffalo Bill and his com- panions rode hastily toward the northern village. An- other stampede would take place there, they knew, as soon as news of this. one reached it. But the stampede in ‘the northern village had already happened. The raiding redskins, on reaching it, had spread the information that a band. of white men were chasing them, and that had been enough. The village was a scene of wreckage and desolation. Nearly everything here but the tepees and the houses had been carried away. The broad trail leading toward. the Bad Lands told its own story. CHAP TERRI. PAWNEE BILL’S MISHAP. Buffalo Bill had become exceedingly anxious about Little Cayuse. The reports circulated by the boomers were dis- - turbing, too. Hence, one of his purposes when the scout pushed on toward the Bad Lands was to make such inquiries as he could. He reasoned that it was entirely probable the Piute had fallen into the hands of the Sioux, and had been forced to accompany the band of raiders. The agent had called to his assistance his Indian police. In times when there was no trouble but a little stealing, this service was coveted by many of. the warriors; it enabled them to satisfy their roving instincts and it placed them on the government’s pay roll. Naturally, however, in doing the bidding of the Indian agent the Indian police in time antagonized many of the reservation Indians, and came to be hated accordingly; and, being still say- ages, unchanged by the fact that they were servants of the Indian department and wore a uniform, they came to hate those who hated them, and developed certain traits of cruelty, which they practiced unknown to the agent. A. cold wave, developing almost blizzardy character- istics, drove down from the north onthe night following the flight of the Indians. While it must have made them miserable, it held also. an element of friendliness, for it blotted out completely the broad trails they had made, and the white men who followed had nothing but guesswork to serve as a guide. For this reason, when the Bad Lands were approached, Buffalo Bill divided his little party. With Pawnee Bill was sent the baron, and Pawnee Bill and the baron made the first really surprising dis- covery of the campaign. As they struggled down into the Bad Lands, having left their mounts behind, an Indian form popped up be- fore them, out of the snow. It was like a rabbit bobbing up out of its hole. en kyeek!” whispered the baron, and sank out of sight “Pawnee Bill was down as soon. “He iss looking vor us, meppe, budt he ton’dt seen us vitl” Then an explosion of surprise broke from the baron’s lips, no more to be repressed than when fire is touched to gunpowder. For the Indian, turning his face’ toward them, revealed it fully. And he was Little Cayuse NEW BUFFALO 16 But great was the change. The only familiar thing was the eagle feather in his hair. His face was striped with red and blue. As soon as the German could control himself, he poked up his head. “Hi, dare,” he called across; “oof dot iss Liddle Cayuse, as mein eyes iss vhisbering by my ear, ve ar-re friendts. - Dhis iss Schnitzen——” The head had bobbed back out of sight. The baron gasped for breath. “Himmelblitzen!” he gurgled. “Was that our friend? It certainly looked it.” “Vill you blease binch me some py der legs, so dot I know I ain’dt dreaming.” “You saw him, all right,’ said Pawnee Bill. “I wish Cody had been here.” “Budt——” ‘Well, it begins to seem like those boomers weren't lying.” “But Liddle Cayuse he ain’dt——” “That’s what we thought; but he is here, and he is in war paint. Pard Cody has thought that if here Little Cayuse would be held as a prisoner, or something of that kind. But you can see that he was no prisoner.” “He was looking oudt vor us.” “T think the entrance to some cavern is right there, and he was watching at the entrance. Which is to say, he is on guard there. He heard you, yet he chose not to heed.” “Budt dit he standunder me? Dot iss der kvestion. Meppe he t’ought I vos somepody vot I ain’dt.” ‘ ‘Perhaps so.” “Now, vot iss to pe dit?” “T think we may have to venture up to that hole, at the risk of getting shot, and see if we can make him under- stand, and open conversation with him.” - Schnitzenhauser began to scramble up. “I think we had better go back, then circle round; a direct advance. may bring bullets.” “Vrom Liddle Cayuse? Nit, he vouldn’t shoodt me.” “But hé may not be alone, you see.” “Oof he iss not gone crazy,” said the baron, “I am in der insanidy family meinself. I am, too, vishing dot Cody the is. here,” But the baron obediently followed Pawnee Bill when he crept backward and in a semicircle. On approaching the spot where the head and face had oon seen, Pawnee Bill lay behind a snowy rock and called softly: “Little Cayuse! Little Cayuse!” When there was no answer, he hitched still nearer the hole, with the baron sliding his round body along close behind. “Dhis iss der mysdery oof der mysderious,” the baron panted. At the end of several cautious hitches, they reached the hole. It was in appearance like a contracted well open- ing. Round the mouth was the imprint of human fin- gers. But no one was to be seen or heard. “Py Yimminy! I am knowing dot Liddle Cayuse vill nodt shoodt me, ennyhow,” said the baron. Thereupon he drew himself up to the hole, and whis- pered down: “Hi, you! Vot iss? Dhis iss Schnitzenhauser. Lillie iss here also-o.” -He ceased to listen. “Py Yimminy, dhis iss a kveerness!” he commented. ae turned to Pawnee Bill, who had crawled up -beside im. ; “Dhere iss notting in dhis hole budt embtiness: I can hear my woice floating roundt down in idt, mitoudt hit- ting anyt’ing.” ; : Pawnee Bill drew up over the hole and listened. Calling the name of Little Cayuse, there came back only a tumbling echo. -“You are right, baron,” he said. nothing down there, with the Piute.” As there was nothing else to do but descend into the black depths, if they -wished to investigate the mystery, Pawnee Bill swung boldly over into the well-like open- ing. f * Machor “There seems to be and we are sure not getting in touch BILL WEEKLY. “Yaw,” approved the baron, “dot iss pitzness, You ar-re. a boldtness, like meinselluf. You vill findt I am caming righdt afder you.” He, too, swung over, following Pawnee Bill. “TIdt look pooty mooch like some trap,’ he whispered down. The rocky face of the opening furnished foothold and handhold; and, after a descent of ten or twelve feet, they reached the bottom. : Enough light came down through the opening to en- able them to look about. A rocky tunnel bored away into the darkness. That was all they could see; except that the sides of the tunnel were a conglomerate of lava and trap rock, and presumably the roof was the same. Pawnee Bill studied the queer natural architecture. He had been many times in different portions of the Bad Lands, but had never beheld anything exactly like this. He could only theorize as to its cause; but it seemed to him that there had been a core of earth or soft rock, and a stream of water running through had in some remote past chiseled away this core. The result was this tunnel. It reminded him of a river bed, empty of water and capped over with a thick sheet of rough, black ice. Whither did it lead? Standing at the bottom of the well, Pawnee Bill ven- tured to call again the name of Little Cayuse. Little Cayuse had fled, and no answer came back. “The Piute didn’t recognize us, baron; that’s plain enough,” he said. “Idt iss some vonders dot ve recognized heem,” the baron replied. “Vot you tink?” ‘ “It seems that the reports we heard, and would not believe, cut pretty close to the truth, eh?” “Tdt iss a kveer pitzness.” “Yes; to have Little Cayuse abandon him, and go on the warpath against the whites, will be a great grief to Colonel Cody.” : “Yaw, me, too; I am veeping now already yedt, t'ink- ing apoudt idt.” He sniffled. “It calls for investigation. “Dry me,” Pawnee Bill started off, the baron at his heels. Darkness soon surrounded them, and they had to ad- vance with extreme caution, not. knowing what pitfalls might lie in the way. Twice, in spite of their care, they tumbled into crevices, which fortunately were not deep. Then the thing they feared happened. Indians rose up before them in the darkness and charged on them with yells that sounded thunderously. “Back!” roared Pawnee Bill. . 7 You are game, of course? His revolver bit into the darkness with a fiery flash that . revealed momentarily a dozen painted Indians bearing down on them. But he shot at the roof of the tunnel intentionally. His knife came out, and he was about to use it, when the baron, fleeing ahead of him toward the TENCE fell, and Pawnee Biil tumbled headlong over him, 3). The baron had dropped into one of the crevices which before had tripped him. His round body filled it, so that as the Indians went plunging over him, in pursuit of Paw- nee Bill, who, having sprung up, was trying still to ré- treat to the opening, it seemed to the baron that eac redskin stepped on him. But not a cry came from the lips of the baron. : “Tam some stepping stones—heh?” he grumbled to him- self. “Vale, idt mighdt pe vorser already yedt.” He heard a struggle in the darkness and saw the flash of a light. The Indians had closed in on Pawnee Bill, who, backing against the wall, was putting up a Sas fight. One of the redskins had flared a match. The baron ventured to stick out his head. Pawnee Bill was defending himself with his fists, and had downe three of the Indians; but others had caught him by the legs and arms, and, unable to withstand their combined assault, he was being dragged down. It would have bee? different, undoubtedly, if he had used his revolvers, but, knowing that it was against the wishes of Buffalo Bill to begin bloodshed, and very unwise, he had not even use his famous knife finally, “Keep low, baron,” he yelped, when he saw that he had beeri overpowered. i He trusted that the Indians would not understand ls ri ir-te ning ered and they en- way cept lava Bad his, and ote nel. and en- at", Nor Tk pead'-r er Mera Ot, Re SD treat now, while he could. NEW. BUFFALO warning. And if the baron escaped, he would be able to carry word of this to Buffalo Bill, : The baron was about to roll back into the hole. The light of the match had gone out. But, he thought better of it, and crept carefully to the nearest wall, where he lay flat—that is, as flat) as he could. The Indians were yelling over their captive, and did not hear him. “Dhis is a padt pitzness,” he muttered. “Unt idt make me feel a cowardtliness, dot I tidn’t yoomp in at der righdt dime. Budt how can I, vhen I am der hole in? Unt now der machor he iss some brisoners; unt my own dime iss coming kvick, I oxbect me. Budt-idt iss Liddle Cayuse who iss resbonsible. Dot Biute——’ The Indians were coming toward him, and he tried to flatten out more completely. They went streaming. by, pushing Pawnee Bill. The German’s round body lay like a log by the wall. But at once he discovered that they were searching for him. They had seen two white men and had captured but one. “Und dhey made a garpet oudt oof me,” thought the baron; “now dhey vill be looking vor dose garpet.” A match snapped in the darkness, leaped to flame, and he saw some of the Indians looking about. Beyond them others held Pawnee Bill, who began to struggle again. One of the Indians snatched up a blanket that had dropped in a roll on the floor. The baron had been about to spring out and seek safety in wild flight, but when he beheld that he delayed. “Yaw, dhey t'ink idt vos der planket vot dhey vos steb- bing on, unt nodt meinselluf. Oof so-o, idt is a lucki- ness vor me.” The baron had struck the truth right on. the nail; they remembered stepping on something soft in the darkness, and when they found the dropped blanket that seemed to account for it. But they still knew there was another white man in the passage; however, they thought they had overrun him when they made the capture, and that he had fled in the other direction. So they set off, surrounding Pawnee Bill and dragging him along by sheer force of numbers. The match having gone out, the tunnel was plunged again in gloom. The baron lay like a fat rat in the dark- ness, listening. : : _ “Der luckiness oof Schnitzenhauser,” he gurgled; “idt iss to der dop oof der heaps again.” 1 It had become proverbial—the luck of the German; it was his chief source of.strength, his distinguishing qual- ity. When other men failed, he succeeded by sheer luck. Even when death itself threatened, tuck came in and snatched him out by a tug at his corn-colored hair. There was only one Baron von Schnitzenhauser. Yet the baron was not lacking in genuine pluck and many heroic qual- ities. Thanking his lucky star, he was debating now what he should do. He heard the Indians retreating, making a search for the second white man whom they had seen in the tunnel. Dictates of prudence advised the baron to beat a re- But it was never the baron’s way to desert a friend in time of trouble. So he cast prudence and all her whisperings of safety to the wind. “Himmelblitzen—nit |” he grunted.. “Am I nodt a vearer oof der Iron Cross decoradion from der Cherman em- beror vor pravery on der ficldt oof pattle? 1 pedt you. Vhen fear he seen me, I ton’dt know heem. So, oof I deserdt a friendt in der time oof danger, may der roof oof my moudth cleave to my tongues. Oof idt leadt me indo der fires py der dorture sdakes, I vill now seen vot iss doing.” The baron was not boasting; he was merely talking to himself for the purpose of bracing his courage. ~ He rolled-to his hands and knees, listened to the row going on in the darkness ahead of him, then began to crawl toward it. : “Bawnee Bill, he vouldt nodt deserdt me; he iss Puf- falo Bill der second. Like Cody, he iss der satisages—no, I mean der stuffings vot heroes iss made oudt oof. Oof he turns his pack to der foes, idt is only vor der purpose oof kicking dose foes packward indo der mittle oof nexdt BILL WEEKLY, 17 veek. Vouldt I roon avay vrom drying to hellup heem? Nodt oof I am knowing meinselluf.” Muttering to himself, he began to crawl after the noisy Indians; and as they were not going on very fast, he was able to keep them in hearing distance. Finally, as it seemed certain no Indians were behind him, he rose to his feet; crawling tried his lungs, and on general principles he did not like it. How long he followed the Indians he did not know— perhaps it was not more than ten minutes. But at the end he saw a gleam of light and knew that the redskins had reached another opening. Stopping to discover what they would now do, he saw that they were climbing out of the tunnel; he did not really see them, but shadows and flashes of light follow- ing each other. informed him that that was what was occur-- ring. The shadows ceased and a steady glow of light re- mained. They had gone out by the hole, and it was open. The baron lowered his head. He thought it likely that the Indians were lying for him outside; so, when he came to it, and saw that it went up to the outer world, like the one by which he had de- scended, he was in no hurry to follow. . He stood, lis- tening. But he now heard nothing. “IT am betting idt iss some traps,” he soliloquized. Curiosity forced him, nevertheless, to climb to the open- ing, which. he saw he could do readily by setting his hands in inequalities of the walls. No one was at the top, but he thought he heard a buzzing of talk some distance off. Disregarding possible danger, he thereupon drew him- self higher, and finally poked his head out of the hole, like a rabbit peering from its burrow. All round the hole the snow was trampled; but the thing which drew his attention was a huddle of Indians not far away, in a depression that lay back of a wind- worn hill, The Indians who had been in the tunnel had reached this place, and Indians were flocking round them. There were many Indians, hastily erected tepees, and horses and ponies in the small valley. At a glance the baron knew these Indians were from one of the vacated villages, and he judged they had reached the valley by another route than the tunnel, as ponies could not have been taken through it. Pawnee Bill had been tied and was ringed round by the Indians. There were much talking and gesticulation; and hands were pointed in the baron’s direction, while eyes were turned there. The baron lowered his head. “T am nit accoundted vor,” he surmised. ‘‘Dere iss a vhite man missing, unt dhey ton’dt know how idt iss. Budt I am nodt seeing dot rascal Liddle Cayuse. He iss make all dhis trouple, unt he iss——” His blue German eyes rounded, and a breath of sur- prise, or satisfaction, puffed from his lips as his gaze fell on a certain Indian. “Ach! looks like heem, but also-o idt look like der tuyfel. dot iss beadting der drum.” What followed next threw a sense of alarm into him. Some of the debating Indians turned about and rushed toward the hole where the baron was gazing and cogitat- ing. Apparently the Indians from the tunnel had been asking if a white man had fled out of it; and, having been told none had, they guessed that he was still in the tun- nel; so they were coming to make another hunt. There is a time for all things, and it was clear that the time for the baron to move himself had come. With a little squawk he slipped down into the hole and dropped into the subterranean passage. “Der man vot fighdts unt roons avay, mebbeso he vill pe aple to fight again some odder times; but oof he fighdts all oof der time, he iss going to be kilt, vhich iss nodt oof any usefulness. So I tink me I vill do now some roon- ing.” The baron hit up a wonderfully lively gait. Seeing his apple-round body and thin legs, no one would have Now I seen him; dot iss oof idt is heem. Idt Vale, 4 ogc Mee Aen Ma Min = AR i hh eo RE A ea cai er te ta 18 NEW BUFFALO believed he could run so; but necessity is the spur of action, as well as the mother of invention, He heard the Indians tumble down into the passage, heard them come along it, and he ran still faster. The distance to the hole by which he and Pawnee Bill had entered he covered in short time; then he scrambled out at the top like a scared gopher. His mule, and Pawnee Bill’s horse, were hidden in the: midst of some trees, a hundred yards off, and he was sprinting for the trees as soon as he was out of the hole. Before the Indians, emerging from the tunnel, could reach the grove, the baron was on the back of Toofer, galloping out on the open ground, leading the horse a Pawnee Bill, and safely beyond the range of their rifles. ‘“Whoob!” he hurled defiantly back at them. “I am now going to gidt Puffalo Bill, der ling oof der Vest; unt afdher dot you willains vill pe seeing oudt oof der odder sites oof your faces.” And he galloped away. CHAPTER XI. BUFFALO BILL TO THE RESCUE. When Will Harbison, the young newspaper reporter, got back to the Sweetwater Indian agency, he was given a bit of mental confusion, He had ridden hard and far, and he brought in two saddle horses, having shifted from one to the other on the road to maintain better speed. Eyen as it was, they were winded and covered with foam. He found thé agency deserted; even the horses and ponies were gone from the stables and the corrals. - Not even at the jail could a guard be found. Hence his men- tal confusion. No word had yet reached the outside. world of the In- dian stampede, but he knew that this singular desertion of the agency indicated no common occurrence. . He stopped only long enough to permit his horses to rest, while he strolled round investigating, eating some food taken from his saddle pack, “Something has broke sure,” was his conclusion. ‘Likely half this Sioux tribe has gone to raiding, and Glover and Cody have cut out with all hands to try to stop it. It will be like trying to stop a prairie fire.” ' He walked out along the trail, looking at the pony tracks; but he could make nothing out of them. Then he returned to his horses. The foam was drying on them and they were contentedly munching the shelled oats he had put before them. He looked them over critically. “You need an hour’s rest,” he said; “but I’m afraid you can’t have it now; we've got to see what this phenomenon means, _ If the Indians were raiding in such force as seemed in- dicated, it meant that the whole tribe had suddenly turned hostile. That meant that if he ventured out oh the reserva- tion and fell afoul of any of them, he could expect rough treatment. ' But, nurtured under the best newspaper traditions, that ‘was what he intended now to do. Harbison was callow, but he was not a coward. Yet he did not set out until he had given the horses a little water, drawn from the agency well. Then he headed -toward the nearest Indian village. When two miles or so out from the agency buildings he beheld another horseman, and, recognizing him as a white man, he turned toward him. The horseman reined in and curiously awaited his approach. Harbison recognized him as one of the boomers. “Hello,” said the man gruffly. “What you doin’ here?” “I might ask that of you,” the young newspaper man shot back at him. He saw a roll of Indian blankets at the tail of the man’s saddle and strung bundles which looked suspiciously In- dian. In addition, there were a number of new rifles ~ and revolvers. These he eyed curiously. “What's happened?” he asked. “You don’t know?” “Not a thing, A man named Fisher reported that a few - Indians had raided to the eastward, and had carried away BILL WEEKLY. a boy, and I hustled off to put that on the wires. I’ve just returned. Nobody’s at the agency.” “You'd better shack right back to where you come from, then,” was the uncivil advice. ‘I reckon the whole tribe’s gone to raidin’, The villages aire all deserted.” “You picked those things up in one of the villages?” “No, PF didn’t; I already had ‘em.’ “T suppose you know that in being here on the reserya- tion you are violating the regulations?” “Well, you’re doin’ the same, ain’t ye?” “T have Major Glover’s permission; I’m a newspaper reporter, and ii “And I’m a free-born American citizen; that’s better than a newspaper reporter any day in the week!” “IT don’t care to quarrel with you,’ said Harbison, “I thought likely you could give me some information, and that rs ; “Then don’t insinuate what ain’t so.” “You couldn’t tell me where to look for Glover and his Indian police, or for Buffalo Bill and Major Lillie?” ' “I reckon they’re chasin’ the reds; find the reds and you'll find them.” “Thank you; it’s good advice, though hard to carry out. But I won’t. trouble you.” He turned to ride away. “See here,” the man called, “if you do meet up with *em, don’t mention that you seen me.” “What is your name?” said Harbison, stopping. “Bill Jones,” Harbison knew it was not the fellow’s name. “All right,” he said. “I shall not tell them that I met a man named Bill Jones.” ae As he rode away, the man eyed him, puzzled by that answer, “If he does make trouble for me,’ he muttered, “T’ll shore put a bullet in him.” ; Then he rode off in the other direction, bent on more looting in the northern village. When Harbison reached the southern village, he of course found it as abandoned as the agency. There were many signs of a hurried flight, As he looked the ground over, he knew where “Bill Jones” had secured his blankets, rifles, and revolvers. There were many blankets and many weapons on the ground, with other articles in pro- fusion. Bill Jones. had apparently picked over the spoil and taken only what was most valuable. After doing the same at the other village, his horse doubtless would be loaded down. It is not intended to suggest here that Bill Jones was at all representative of any class of land boomers of the present or of the past. He was but a cheap type of thief, who would have been a thief under any or all con- ditions. If he “herded” with boomers, it was only be- cause the boomers promised land spoil; he was merely a jackal. Yet it was unfortunate for the boomers that so many such men clung leechlike to them. The snow that had sifted down over the deserted yil- lage but added to its dismal appearance. It had blinded all the trails, and so placed Harbison in a quandary. Under his right arm was slung a field glass. With it he searched the surrounding country. Finally, locating some moving spots in the northwest, he rode off in that direc- tion. After a while the moving spots disappeared, so all he could do was to continue in that course, which he did. At the end of an hour’s hard riding, when he had struck a lumpy ‘country, he found pony tracks, “Perhaps ponies of the Indian police,” he said. He began to follow them, They led him farther and still farther into the broken country. The land heaved into hummocks, the hummocks gave way to a tangle of rocks. Farther on was a very wilderness of rock forms, fantastically twisted and wind- worn. So he began to suspect that he was entering the famous Bad Lands. If it had not been for the pony tracks still luring him on, he would have turned back now, but he was under the impression that the tracks were of ponies of the Indian police, for he believed that if the Indians were raiding they would not be raiding in the uninhabited Bad Lands, but in the rich valley of the Sweetwater, which Ga Ls oe rae a aaa aan NEW BUFFALO lay on the eastern side of the reservation. The reasoning was all right, but it was based on false premises. Suddenly before him appeared two mounted and painted Indians; and from the right and left came two more. They were armed, and their attitude was so belligerent that young Harbison jerked his “horses round for flight. These men were certainly not Indian police. But as he thus turned, the Indians began to shoot at his horses, and the one under him gave a jump and\ went down, hurling Harbison heavily to the earth. The other horse, uninjured, jerked free and dashed away. : Harbison was dazed by his fall. But he struggled to his feet, and from the back of his floundering horse he caught his rifle. With it he turned to defend himself. He would have fired upon the Indians if at the same moment he had not beheld another figure, that had popped into view since he looked in that direction. Sight of this new horseman caused a cry of hope to rise to his lips. The figure was knightly and mounted on a knightly horse, “Buffalo Bill!” Harbison cried. Even his whirling and aching head could not make him doubt what he saw. It was as if Aladdin had returned and had given his old brass lamp a rub, and in response the king of scouts had popped out of the ground, all mounted and armed, to rush to the aid of the imperiled reporter. “Buffalo Bill!” Harbison gasped again. A revolver in the scout’s hand began to spurt flame and lead, and the pony of the Indian in advance dropped. The other Indians dived over the backs of their ponies, where they clung like leeches. But the scout still blazing away, and another pony going down, the Indians turned tail and rode wildly for safety. Two dead ponies were on the ground, and two In- dians. But the Indians were lively enough; they had not been touched—had not been shot at. And discovering that they had received no damage, they leaped up and ran with great bounds after their mounted companions. Breaking into view behind the king of scouts came now old Nomad, swinging his rifle and roaring. And be- © hind Nomad appeared Major Glover and a detail of his Indian scouts. “I hope I’m not seeing things,” said Harbison. “One minute I’m a dead one—apparently ; and then I’m all right again.” Buffalo Bill came up at a swift gallop on Bear Paw, followed by the others. “Close work!” cried the scout, slipping lightly to the ground when he gained the reporter’s side. He held out his hand. Harbison clasped it warmly. “Too close for me,” he said. “If you hadn’t come just when you did, it would have been all up with me.” “Tt looked so, and that is why we chipped in. We knew these Indians were here, but we didn’t know that you were here; these rocks so hide everything.” oe “Er-waugh!” whooped Nomad, reining in with a jerk. “Test in time. Sonny, you're thet reckless, rammin’ in whar ye don’t know, thet I’m skeered yer brick-dust, ha’r will be bakin’ in an Injun tepee@one er these hyar times. How’d yer git hyar?” “Here’s the horse I rode,” said Harbison. “I had two —the other got away when this one fell.” " “Perhaps my police can round up the one that escaped, remarked Major Glover sympathetically. “Now tell .us what you know.” : Harbison knew nothing; but he told of seeing the de- serted village and of meeting Bill Jones. jones Indian agent became wrathy when he heard of ones. “Some of those rascals will have to be sent to the penitentiary. If they had as much honor as a rattle- snake, they wouldn’t break in here now and increase our trouble.” : Buffalo Bill and those with him had seen the Indians, and had been shadowing them for the purpose of locating ue stampeded Indians, believing they intended to join them. They could still follow them, but with more danger BELL WEERILY «= (92 19 se a 2 eS SGPC RANE! BERR a casper Sy now, as the Indians would carry news of their presence and the hostiles might try an ambuscade. But a,change in this plan came. The baron, who had struck the trail of Buffalo Bill’s party some distance off, came bouncing into view, riding his mule and leading Pawnee Bill’s horse. ‘“Whoob!” he yelped, waving his little cap. “You see Iam caming. Dot vos goodt oof you, to pe shoodting so dot I couldt easy locade you.” The worthy baron thought the shooting had been for his benefit. “Where is Majer Lillie?” Buffalo Bill asked as soon as the baron drew near. “Yaw, idt iss vot I am delling; he iss a brisoners; he haf peen captured py Liddle Cayuse. Himmelblitzen, vot you tink oof dot?” “IT think ye’re lyin’,’ said Nomad. The baron crossed his heart solemnly. “TIdt iss der troot’,” he insisted. “1 seen him—Liddle Cayuse, mit his owen eyes. Unt he haf a gallons of red baint spread ofer his faces, mit plue baint in stripes; ach, he vos a sighdt!” Though astounded and hurt, Buffalo Bill did not twitch an. eyelash. : “Tell us all about it,” he ordered. “Ve seen him py der hole in—me unt Bawnee Bill, yoost looking like Iam delling you. So-o, vhen he vouldt nodt answer py us vhen his name ve haf called, and schlipt, avay by der hole under, ve voller him. Idt vos a hole, mit under idt a tunnel. “Unt idt vos full of Inchuns. Vhen dhey yoomped oudt, I fell me down in a crack in der rocks, unt all dhem Inchuns he-sdep on me undil I t’ink I am der brincibal in a footpall game—dot iss, I am der footpall himselluf. Budt dhey t’ink I am some blankets; so-o I haf der lucki- ness vot I am nodt gatched. But Bawnee Bill he iss gatched. He iss made some brisoners, unt taken py der willage, vhich iss py der odder endt oof der hole. I seen idt vhen I go dare. But der Inchuns seen me again, so I cut me oudt, unt mit der luckiness oof anchels standt- ing me roundt, I am now here. Unt Bawnee Bill he iss dare” “And whar is Little Cayuse?’ Nomad demanded, “He iss dare, too, also-o unt likevise.” “Ve’re sure o’? thet?’ Nomad snapped at him. “You ain’t been drinkin’ er nuthin’ ?” ’.“Do you vandt me to schwear to idt?” said the irri- tated German. “Der vordt oof Schnitzenhauser iss goot enough.” It was good enough for Buffalo Bill. “Take us to that place at once,” he ordered. “‘We will not follow these reds farther. Harbison can ride Paw- nee Bill’s horse, so we'll not waste time in trying to recover his animal.” Within a minute afterward the king of scouts was lead- ing the way with the baron, intent on rescuing Pawnee Bill and getting at the true reason for the singular actions of the young Piute. CHAPTER XI, PAWNEE BILL AND LITTLE CAYUSE. Held under a kind of hypnotic spell by the influence of the medicine man and the strange psychological stimula- tion of the ghost dance, Little Cayuse had joined a band of similarly excited young Indians who had raided into the Sweetwater valley. How far in this Little Cayuse was blamable may be a matter for conjecture, but it is a subject on which a white man can do little more than conjecture, for a white man can know nothing of the powerful pull of heredity influencing an Indian whose father and mother were sav- ages, and who is himself not far removed, and is, more- over, still influenced by all an Indian’s superstitions. Little Cayuse moved as in a dream, obeying the leader of the party and hardly knowing what he did. Cattle were “rustled” and driven into the reservation, but it was not. true that a boy had been attacked and captured. As a matter of fact, which may be stated here in paren- thesis, the boy had simply wandered off and been lost; a Be aoe pee AED ELLE ELIE LE ELE LTE DIE a ERSTE AS 4 i a NEW BUFFALO he was found the next day by his anxious and excited parents, and he had not even seen or been seen by the Indians. : Fear of being pursued and attacked by the white men of the valley drove the young Indians hard, and they pushed the cattle on so mercilessly that all but a dozen or so dropped by the wayside from exhaustion before the reservation was reached. These, later recovering, were rounded up by the settlers. And those driven within the reservation’ were abandoned by the Indians when_ the stampede madness attacked the Sioux, so that even these were finally recovered by their owners. Little Cayuse was still moving as in the haze of a dream; and out of this dreamlike state he did not come until after the Bad Lands had been reached and a halt had been called, which gave him time for rest and © sleep. When he knew what he had done, he was sorry, though it was too late. \ But still the fear of the Indian police hung over him like a cloud, and it seemed to him that there was no safety except by remaining close hidden with these new friends, the Sioux. ; The Sioux, expecting to be followed, made such prepara- tions as they could for a fight. They set guards and watches where they feared the white men might appear. One of these places was the farther entrance of the tun- nel, and here, during a certain hour, Little Cayuse was ordered to take his turn as a guard. It was a thing he dared not refuse to do; and, moreover; he had no wish to refuse, as he was as anxious as any Sioux could be to keep the Indian police from discovering this hiding place. Tf they found it, and got in, he felt sure he would be taken and dragged back to the agency jail. And that was a thought which not only made him sick at heart, but sick | all over. ‘When he saw Pawnee Bill and the baron, he had but a glimpse of them, and did not recognize them; but leaped to the conclusion that they were white men from the val- ley who had followed the cattle raiders. So he dropped back into the tunnel and sped as fast as he could to the Sioux with this supposed informa- tion. Thereupon a band of Sioux were sent into the tun- nel, and the capture of Pawnee Bill followed. Then Little Cayuse discovered his mistake. His first impulse was to rush up to Pawnee Bill and make himself known; yet he saw that to do so would not help Pawnee Bill, but would condemn him in the eyes of the Sioux. So he held back, and began, in his crafty Indian way, to meditate a course of action. Hour after hour he kept away from Pawnee Bill, so that the great scout and friend of Buffalo Bill did not once get to see him. But as darkness drifted down out of the hills, and some new guards came to watch over him, Pawnee Bill, looking at them, met the eyes of Little Cayuse. Little Cayuse put up his hand in a familiar way,_recog- nized by Pawnee Bill as a signal for him to keep silent. Pawnee Bill smiled and nodded. Squatting before the fire that had been kindled to drive off the night chill, the Piute looked across at Pa-e- has-ka’s friend. He was grotesquely painted. “Keep still,” he said in Piute. He shrugged his blanket closer roynd his shoulders and glanced at the other Indians. Then he threw a small stick on the fire and seemed to anathematize the stick: “Ul-we-ah, luk-kak-a-wah (To-night I will save you).” Pawnee Bill was properly deaf to this. The other guards had to be deceived. Later Little Cayuse brought him food and water. The food was not a plentiful supply, but the water was abun- dant and good. : While placing it before him, Little Cayuse managed to so throw out the folds of his blanket that a screen was ’ formed. Behind this his brown hand slipped down, hold- ing a sharp knife. Hack, hack; the cords holding the Hack, hack, hands of Pawnee Bill were cut through. again, and his feet were free. . It was so craftily done that the cords remained in , Place. BILL WEEKLY. “Me Little Cayuse,” the Piute whispered. “Where Pa- e-has-ka ?” : “Outside somewhere,” Pawnee Bill breathed back. “Good. . We go find Pa-e-has-ka. But not now.” He dropped the blanket down;. then, making a_pre- tense that the cords were hard to untie on Pawnee Bill’s hands, he handed food up to him; and then water in a battered tin can. It gave him opportunity to get close up to the scout, and that was what he wanted. : “Little Cayuse tell all things by an’ by,” he whispered, as Pawnee Bill gulped noisily at the food to cover up all other sounds. ; Little Cayuse dropped the knife against Pawnee Bill's hands, and at the familiar touch the latter recognized it as his precious knife, which had been taken from him. There followed another flirt of the concealing blanket, as more food was offered the scout, and down beside the knife fell Pawnee Bill’s revolvers. “No let um be see,” warned the Piute. The blanket was still making its flowing movements, and under their cover Pawnee Bill slipped the weapons aside and sat on them. “QO. K.,” he said. “Good.” “When?” “One moon walk in sky.” That meant in an hour. “Before moonrise,” Little Cayuse added. “Tl be ready.” “Bie fight mebbe; but we go. We go find Pa-e-has-ka.” AG): ee “Good,” The other Indians were talking by the fire. One of them arose lazily and sauntered over to the prisoner, Little Cayuse was busy pushing food and drink to Paw- nee Bill’s lips. “Indian police come—heh?” the Indian asked of the scout. “Me no sabe,” said Pawnee Bill, shaking his head. “Pony soldier come?” “Me no sabe.” Ei? He seemed to study what else he could ask. The Sioux were in great fear of the coming of the troopers and the Indian police. “IT am friend of the Sioux,” said Pawnee Bill, using that language, “so why am I held here?” “White,men are enemies of the Sioux,” said the In- dian stolidly. “I am friend of the Sioux,” Pawnee Bill repeated. But the Indian did not believe it, and turned back to the fire. He was still unsuspicious. : _ “Me go now,” said Little Cayuse, who had been fright- ened by the coming of the Indian. “You keep um still.” “Aye,” promised the scout. Little Cayuse took away the tin can, and, joining the Indians by the fire, he squatted there and began to talk with them in his clipped English. An hour later, when the darkness preceding the rising of the moon was deepest, the Piute sauntered over to the prisoner, as if he meantto see that he was all right. He stooped above Pawnee Bill. ; “All same time,” he whispered, “me kick fire, you run.’ Apparently satisfied that the prisoner’s condition was satisfactory from the Indian’s standpoint, he stepped back to the fire, but on the side opposite that occupied by the other guards. He picked up a stick of wood, as if to throw it on the blaze. It was a crooked stick, and, ap- parently, it tripped him; the effect was that the stick swung round, struck an end in the center of the fire, and, lift- ing the glowing brands, hurled a shower of them over the guards. Little Cayuse uttered a yell, indicative of surprise and regret. At the same instant Pawnee Bill leaped to his feet and began to run toward the opening in the tunnel on that side, Little Cayuse yelled again, and started as if to pursue and stop him. Before the surprised guards could brush away the brands that were singeing their blankets and biting into their flesh, Pe was flyi Little he was | escaping daring | and cou has-ka’s But t Pawn to climl Right trying over al Once "Rh How They and he gained Whe sped ¢ when Bu up to yellin Th swun its bi Th Th ing | with A Cay U Buf men Pa. re- It’s la NEW BUFFALO flesh, Pawnee Bill had a good start, and the Piute boy was flying along at his heels. Little Cayuse had never done anything more cleverly ; he was giving the Sioux the idea that he was chasing the escaping prisoner, so that if through any mischance the daring plan failed, he would still not be tied up for it, and could later have another opportunity to release Pa-e- has-ka’s friend. But the trick worked to complete success. Pawnee Bill reached the hole, swung over, and began to climb down. i Right at his heels came Little Cayuse, yelling as if trying to overtake and stop him. And he, too, swung over and began to scramble down into the tunnel: Once down, he caught Pawnee Bill by the hand. “Run!” he said. How they ran! They heard the guards and other Indians gain the hole, and heard them leaping down into the tunnel, But they gained the other entrance. When they climbed out, the Piute led the way, and they sped off, heading first for the strip of timber into which, when escaping, the baron had fled. CHAPTER XIII. CONCLUSION. : Buffalo Bill’s party, guided by the baron, had move up to a point not far from the timber. They heard the yelling, and, through caution, awaited developments. The moon, which had been on the point of rising, swung out from the tips of the hills, and at once threw its beams of white light across the snow. That light brought out distinctly the scout’s party. Then they saw forms moving toward them, and, hav- ing been recognized, they heard the call of Pawnee Bill, with the wolflike yelp of Little Cayuse. A few minutes later the parties had joined, and Little Cayuse was telling his singular story. : Understanding Indians as few white men ever did, Buffalo Bill was. able to comprehend it and put himself mentally in the Piute’s place. But a long delay did not follow. Within less than half an hour he and Little Cayuse boldly enteréd the tunnel together. Issuing as boldly from the other end, they found the Sioux in a state of great excitement. The escape of the white prisoner would, they expected, bring down on them the Indian police without delay, as he would now be able to guide the police. ‘ Concerning Little Cayuse they had not made up their minds; they knew he feared the Indian police, so many of them believed that in pursuing the escaping prisoner beyond the tunnel he had got lost out there. It seemed even possible that he had been capturd. The white light of the moon now poured down so oe the little valley chosen by the Indians was flooded Vi tt, ‘ i _ Out through this white moonlight Buffalo Bill and Little Cayuse passed, directing their steps to the cluster of lodges and huddled redskins. As they drew near, Little Cayuse called, using the names of the few Indians there whom he knew. Then they stopped, standing out in the moonlight. The heroic scout began to speak in the Sioux tongue, of which he was such a master. He announced himself as Pa-e-has-ka, the long-haired scout, known as the friend of the Indians. : Then he and Little Cayuse walked on again, and stood beside the Indian fire. , Some of the Indians fled away; others remained; a few clutched their weapons fearfully. : Again the great scout began to speak to them in the familiar words of their language. : What he said would take too much space if set down in detail. But it can be\ mentioned that he pointed to Little Cayuse as proof that the Sioux had nothing to fear from him or from the Indian agent or the Indian police’ if they chose to return in peace to their reservation. Little Cayuse had violated the rules of the reservation, and had even gone on that raid into the valley of the Sweet- 7 PE a dec Roe aS = rae PRPS ois Bot HE Saccee ete eRe SE OES ee eae INU me BILL WEEKLY. 21 water. That was wrong; but even that would be for- given, for the reason that he knew, and the agent knew, that the Indians had been given much cause for complaint at the hands of the land boomers. _ He promised that the boomers should be held in re- straint. _The Indians took time to consider, and drew off to a - distance. The great scout and the Piute remained by the fire, where they could have been shot down easily. It was a risk which made even the Piute tremble. At the end of a long conference, delegated speakers came back to announce to the long-haired scout that they would call a great council, and deliberate on it; and gave definite promises that hostilities on their side would cease. and would not be resumed if the white men did not begin them. They had heard, they said, of the great Long Hair, and they were willing to accept his words. Buffalo Bill thanked them; then he turned quietly and walked away, without a backward glance. ste he was in the tunnel, with Little Cayuse beside im. “Pa-e-has-ka,” breathed the Piute, clinging to his hand as they hurried along, “if I had found Pa-e-has-ka it would not been.” “IT understand,” said the king of scouts. Then they-emerged from the tunnel, and went on in the moonlight together. THE END. “Buffalo Bill’s Fight for the Right; or, Pawnee Bill and the King of the Land Boomers,” is the story for the next issue. In the thrilling struggle to get justice for the poor Indians, in their troubles with the rascally whites, the Bills and their pards get into more kinds of trouble than usual. Pawnee Bill undertakes a great and daring enterprise, and it comes near to being his last one. Don’t miss it. No. 264—out next week. This number will also contain another installment of the serial story “Fighting the Rustlers,” which grows more and more absorbing. There will also be several pages devoted to stories of strange events taking place at the present time. FIGHTING THE RUSTLERS; Or, Ted Strong’s Race with Death. By EDWARD C. TAYLOR. (This interesting story began in NEw BurraLo BILL WEEKLY No. 260. 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 go.) CHAPTER IX. NEW GUESTS ARRIVE. Ted left the hotel a few minutes after bidding the girl good-by. He did not see a great chance of 'doing very much with Dolan. He could not drive the gambler out of town by denouncing him, as he might have done in some parts of the East, for Ceriso, like a good many other Western towns, allowed and encouraged gamblers to visit it for the money that they brought into the lace, For all that, Ted determined to see Dolan and to do what he could. He surmised that the young fellow whom he had seen speaking to him, and with whom he had gone away that morning, was Jack Malone, and he re- membered that the young man had a decidedly worried look on his face. He imagined that there would not be - much of the thousand dollars left by the time he’ saw him again, and he hurried away, determined to make the round of the places in town where Dolan and _ his victim would be likely. to visit, ° There were a good many saloons and gambling dens in Ceriso, and Ted’s task promised to be a lengthy one. He had told Ben Tremont, Bud Morgan, and Kit Summers of his mission, and all three had decided to go with 22 ao NEW BUFFALO him, as they had nothing else to do to pass the time away while they were staying in the town. All four left the hotel together. Ten minutes after they left, the land- lord, Mr. Brooke, was astonished to see three other young men, all dressed in khaki suits and wearing som- breros, approaching the hotel. There were a good many strangers in Ceriso, but none of them looked like these fellows. One of them, who was walking a little in ad- vance of the other two, was a short, slight chap with cheeks as red as apples underneath his tan. He must have been a great deal stronger than he looked, for he was carrying along.a big portmanteau, which would have made a respectable load for a drayman. : The other two, who came behind him, walked arm in arm, as though they were the dearest of friends. They presented a queer contrast. One of them was tall and dark, and so slender that it seemed as if the wind might blow him away. His face wore a very mournful, dis- satisfied expression, and his cheeks were hollow, like those of a consumptive or a dyspeptic. His legs, which were clothed in tight-fitting khaki leggins, were very thin, but they looked as if they were as hard as iron. The actions of this lanky fellow did not seem to accord very well with his looks. He carried in one hand a large apple pie, and was taking great bites of it and gulping them down as he marched up the street. His companion was his direct antithesis in appearance. He was extremely blond, extremely short, and extremely fat. His eyes, a pale china-blue in color, were half buried in- his fat, rosy cheeks. His lips were wreathed into a benignant smile, and he ambled along by the side of his tall companion as though he were at peace with himself and all the world. The thumbs of his fat, chubby hands were tucked into his leather belt, which was big enough to have gone twice around his friend, and his sombrero was pushed to the back of his head. When the trio reached the hotel porch, the little fel- low in advance laid his valise down on the porch with a resounding thump. “Gentlemen,” he said, in a high, squeaky voice, “I am charmed to see you all. Ceriso is indeed a lovely city. It is a place where, as the great poet Shakespeare re- marks: “Every prospect pleases and only man is vile’ I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for seeming to say that you are vile. I only seemed to say it, you know; in reality, I was quoting the poet. There was nothing personal about it at all.” “Every brospect bleases,” muttered the short, fat fellow sleepily, “but I am bleased mit der town alretty yet mine- selluf. But der brospect oof a nice, soft bed to sleep mineselluf in is der best brosbect after der sduffy rail- road mit der sleebing cars mit der little shelfs for beds. Der next time a railroad sleeps mit me, I dink I will suf- focate mineselluf mit der hot air.” “What do I care about beds!” said the tall one, in a deep voice, somewhat marred by the fact that his mouth was still full of pie. “Sleep is not for an invalid like me. What I want to know is whether the air here is healthful or not.” Mr. Brooke stared from one to the other of the three young men with a smile on his face. “This is generally considered a pretty healthy town,” he said; “it all depends, I suppose, upon what disease a man has. Many invalids have been accommodated here and have been benefited by it a great deal.” “Indeed,” said the tall chap, sinking into a chair while he languidly devoured the last fragments of his apple pie; “perhaps people suffering from the same complaints as I have may have been here.” “What are you suffering from?” asked the landlord. “Is anything the matter with the lungs?” “Yes, that and other things. I have been examining myself while we came along on the train, and compar- ing my symptoms with those discussed in ‘Doctor Killem’s Medical Encyclopedia.’ I find that I have pleurisy, dropsy, the gout, and housemaid’s knee. I have student’s elbow and hod carrier’s shoulder. I have smoker’s heart—al- though I never smoke—and diver’s cramps. I have sci- atica, symptoms of sclerosis of the liver, scarification of the sarcophagus, and scarlatina. I am threatened with appendicitis, neuritis, gastritis, enteritis, and cephalitis, “I have hobo’s foot and writer’s cramp, indigestion, BILL WEEKLY. insomnia, inanition, ingrown nails, and several other com- plications of a like nature. I have had spinal cerebro meningitis, touches of Asiatic cholera,.inflammation, sup- puration, and vexation. I am thoroughly worn out and want something to eat—say a bowl of rich soup, a boiled fish, a few pounds of steak, vegetables, potatoes, corn fritters, and hominy, apple pie, and coffee. I can’t eat much, owing to the weak state of my stomach.” “Good heavens!” said Mr. Brooke. ‘I should think that 22 you would be unable to travel! : “He never told us the whole of the dreadful truth before,” said the little->rosy-cheeked fellow who had been carrying the portmanteau. “As Shakespeare says, ‘Con- cealment, like a worm 1’ the bud, preyed on his damask cheek. He pined in thought and with green and yellow melancholy; he, sat like a living hospital full of all dis- eases.’ ” ' “We haf had enough oof der Shagsbeare for der bres- ent,” said the fat boy; “what we want to know mine- selluf iss, does der hotel here live mit Misder Teddie Strong?” “Ted Strong is staying here, if that’s what you want to know,” said the landlord. “Dot iss der sifficientness,” said the fat individual; “a wise to der word iss ass goot as a kick mit der plind mule. Oof Teddie iss here, der hotel will live mit us inside oof it. Lead der rooms to us, so dot we can wash der water mit our faces. Der name oof id iss Carl Schwartz. I came from Chermany, although I can sbeak to der English lankwich as easier dan der men who iss born in der United States. Der two oders iss Pop Martin unt Thaddeus Perkins. I am der spokesmaker for der barty pecause der English lankwich sbeaks mit me mitout so much fluency as der foreigners. We will register mit der hotel pook unt live here.” Carl made this long speech with a great deal of wild gesticulation. The landlord understood his gestures rather better than his words, and a boy was sent upstairs with the valise which Bob Martin had been carrying. The three went upstairs, divested themselves of some of the dust they had picked up on their journey from Texas, and came downstairs again to find that a meal was in course of preparation for them. The fact that they were friends of the young roughriders caused the landlord to treat them with a good deal of considera- tion, even though the town was overcrowded with people. “Dis iss der surbrise barty,” explained Carl. “We heard dot Teddie wass here, unt. we made up our mindts dot we would come here unt make Teddie’ surbrise us. It wass a good idea, for dere is a landt poom in der town unt we will see it all.” The landlord saw the three seated comfortably before a hearty meal, and told them that as friends of the young range riders they might call for the best of the house. He noticed with considerable surprise that the long and lanky fellow, who had claimed to be such an_ invalid, had an appetite and capacity as great as the other two combined, and that he tucked away eatables with a voracity that would have driven a boarding-house keeper to suicide. ' “Pretty good grub,” said Bob Martin, as he noticed Bean Pole. sailing into it. “Look out, Bean Pole, old boy, and don’t eat too little. There’s nothing so treacher- ous as starvation. It steals upon you when you are least expecting it, and one should always guard against it by eating three hearty meals a day.” > _ But what can you do when you haven’t the appe- tite?” asked Bean Pole gloomily. “Stimulate it in every way you can. Practice eating, trying to eat more each day. ‘As Shakespeare says, ‘Prac- tice makes perfect, and those who start with a meal a day ofttimes, by perseverance, develop into human boa constrictors,’ ” “Dot iss der kind oof snake,” said Carl; “I don’d want to pe a snake.” “Nobody said you did,” said Bob Martin; “you have no ambition, anyway.” “What iss dot?” ‘said Carl. “I haf no ambition! I haf more ambition than you haf, anyways.” is “You fellows make me so nervous that I can’t eat, said Bean Pole; “‘let’s hurry up and finish dinner, and ‘then hunt Ted up. It’s bad for us to hurry much at our eatin have thing me I 1M ness, you reall mine me 1 Bob tal mea gett’ pres not vell but eating, but still it doesn’t matter a great deal to me. I have a complicated bunch of diseases, as it is, that’s some- thing terrible to think about. It doesn’t matter much to me now what I do. I’m bound to suffer.” | “You makes me tired mit mineselluf mit your diseased- ness,” said Carl “Vot iss der matter mit you iss dot you are not so sick as you think you iss. -Oof you vas really sick, I would take der brober medicines unt cure mineselluf, but oof you are not sick, vot iss der use oof me takin’ medicines ?” “You are talking through your hat, my friend,” said Bob Martin. “As Billy Shakespeare says, in his immor- tal plays, ‘Words—idle words—I know not what they mean !’” “Vot I mean iss der meaning oof vot I say,” said Carl, getting rather red in the face from his efforts to ex- press himself and eat at the same time. “Oof you can- not understand yourselluf in der plain English lankwich, vell, den id iss mine fault.” “All right,” said Bob; “let it go at that. It’s your fault, but I forgive you. I accept your apologies.” “T don’d haf no apologies,” said Carl angrily; “you iss der one to haf der apologies.” “That's right,” said Bob; “I have just accepted them.” “You iss a fool!” shouted Carl. “You talk as if der insultedness was from me to you. I say dot oof 1 don’t understand mineselluf it is your fault.” “Tf you fellows don’t. shut up,” said Bean Pole, “you will kill me outright. The strain of listening to you two fellows is something terrible. I can’t stand it much longer, My nerves are a complete wreck as it is, and if you don’t keep quiet I am perfectly sure that I shall col- lapse in my chair. Then perhaps you will be sorry.” “Yaw,” muttered Carl, as he went on eating, “sorry for, der- chair.” -"T’'m through,” said Bob Martin, pushing back his chair. “As my guide, philosopher, and friend William Shake- speare remarks, ‘Enough is as good’.as a feast, but too much eating brings on the jimjams.’” “IT guess I am through also,” said Bean Pole, “Come on, fellows, let us take a walk around the town and hunt up Ted Strong. I am anxious to see what this place is like, It will be a big surprise for Ted and Kit and Ben and Bud when they see us here. They think we are away back ‘in Texas. ! “They little know what devoted friends we are, how we would endure the perils and discomforts of a long journey on the railway just to see them again, just to look into their faces and to clasp them by the hand. Come on and we'll hunt them up. They are not in the hotel now.” The three left the table and walked out to the porch. They picked up their hats from the chairs where they had laid them, and were all ready to start, when Carl suddenly raised his right hand and looked solemnly at his two friends. “Vait!” he said gravely. take!” “What is it?” gasped Bean Pole. “Do I look pale? Do you think that a sinking spell is coming over me? “Nein,” said Carl; “but all der same we iss making der mistake. We iss doing vot is a craziness oof we all dree go ouid. One should stay pehind to vatch der Bae here. Ted may come pack, unt den ve vould miss im.” “Carl, you have a great head on your shoulders,” said Bob Martin; “you certainly have hit upon a bright idea. My own wonderful brain is so taken up with weightier problems that I have little time to think of the ‘things of this mundane sphere. I need a simple, practical, level- headed chap like you with me to keep me from soaring too high in empyrean ‘flights of poetic meditation. You have hit upon an idea that actually escaped my colossal brain. You have done well.” “Dot iss right,’ said Carl; “I am a goot thinker, all ies alretty yet. Unt I shall pe der one to stay pe- 1ind,” “Yes.” said Bean Pele, “you had better stay. I feel “We iss making der mls- NEW: BUFFALO BILL "WEEKLY. ae 23 weak, but if I didn’t take a little walking exercise after dinner, I don’t know what would happen to me.” is “You might fall asleep,’ said Bob Martin. co “Asleep!” said Bean Pole; “I might sleep the sleep that knows no waking.” an “Well, then, you and I had better go and search the streets of the city for our wandering but dearly loved friend,* Ted Strong. Oh, Ted, were you but here to know the devotion of your humble but intellectual friends, how your heart would overflow with feelings of pride and exultation! How you would throb with pride as you thought of us!) As Shakespeare says-——” ia “Never mind Shakespeare,” said Bean Pole. “Let us start off and take a walk around the town. Carl will wait behind, in the hotel, and meet any of the boys who happen to come back; won’t you, Carl?” “Yaw,” said Carl; “‘pe careful mit yoursellufs, unt don’d get lost in der shuffles.” “Don’t talk too much, Carl,” said Bob; “you might get your tongue tangled up, and choke yourself.” en “Nefer mindt my tongue,” said Carl; “oof you choke yourselluf mit my tongue, id iss none oof your pusiness. Goot-by.” ae ; -Bean Pole and Bob Martin, the long and the. short, walked briskly off together. Carl sank wearily into a chair and watched them as they disappeared up the street. He felt rather full and sleepy after his heavy «neal, and ‘he worked himself. down and down farther in the chair to try. and get into..a position in which. he could rest comfortably. But somehow he did not have very much success at.this, and he finally rose:to his feet and stretched: himself. He. was.quite drowsy now... When he had been down at the Las Animas’ Ranch, in Mexico, it had been his custom. to.take a siesta every afternoon after din-. ner, and he always slept like a top. He had eaten a heavy meal this afternoon, and the heat of the day and the meal. combined made him feel very sleepy. He wandered about the porch and the. sitting room of the hotel, trying the: various chairs. one after the other, but none of them seemed. -to ‘suit -him.. Some were too soft and» some were too hard. In some the. backs: stood up and down too much, and in others they were tilted too much off the perpendicular. At last he gave up trying to get a comfortable chair in. which to doze. “Himmelblite!” he exclaimed, stretching himself again; “T must haf der sleep or I will haf indigestions, vich Pean Pole has alretty yet. I will slip kervietly up der stairs to mine own leedle-room unt lay mineselluf down T will haf a leedle sleep, unt wake up. all on der ped. When Teddie comes nice urt refreshed mit mineselluf: home, I will be here to meét him, vide avake unt lifely. Dot iss der pest blan.” Slowly and. heavily Carl made his way up the stairs and out on the corridor, which ran all the way across the second floor 6f the Saybrook, and upon which all the bedrooms opened. Carl did not remember the number of ; his own bedroom, but he thought that he would have no difficulty in finding it, and he was too lazy and sleepy. to go down to the desk again to find out which it was. He made his way along the corridor until he came to a door that was partly open. He pushed. it open. still farther, and looked in. So far as he could see it was empty. He glanced about it and saw on the floor a’ big valise. or portmanteau, such as the boys carried their spare clothing and belongings in on their trip. The room had three beds in it, and he remembered that all three of his party had their beds in the ‘same room. right room at once. Over in an alcove there was a bed partly sheltered by a curtain, which appeared to be larger and more com- fortable than the two others. The curtains were drawn so that it was shielded from the light, which poured into the room through the two windows. The bed looked very inviting, and Carl immediately made for it. He’threw himself down upon it, and then half raised himself with a start. His hand had encountered a human face, and, looking. closer, he could see that there was aman lying in the bed, motionless and apparently dead! He. concluded that he had struck. the’ ee Ns a alt TS ERE 24 NEW BUFFALO | CHAPTER X. A SURPRISE FOR DOLAN. Carl gave vent to a muttered exclamation and looked closer. The man who was lying across the bed looked to be a young fellow of about twenty-two or twenty- three. He was heavily built and a little above the medium height. He was fully dressed, and his clothes, as well as the deep tan on his face, indicated that he had worked as a cattleman. At first Carl thought that he was dead, but a moment later he ascertained that he was breath- ing. There was a deathly pallor underneath his tan, and it was plain to any one that the sleep he was now in was not a natural one, even had there not been a crum- pled handkerchief lying across his mouth and _ nostrils, as though it had been pressed there by some one and left there. ‘ Carl could detect a heavy, rather disagreeable odor in the alcove, and he knew that some narcotic had been used on the man who was lying unconscious before him. Carl was not particularly quick-witted, but it did not require very quick wits to see that here was foul play of some kind. He was just drawing back from the bed, intend- ing to rush out of the room, when he heard footsteps on the corridor outside. A sudden panic seized the Ger- man youth. This might be some one to fear. He might be. the man who had just chloroformed the fellow who was lying across the bed. Carl felt that he would -be caught if he attempted to leave the room now. He suddenly leaped across the bed and dropped down on the other side of it, nearest the wall. It was a rather tight squeeze for a boy of Carl’s avoirdupois, but he was wide awake by this time, and he finally managed to squeeze under the bed. He had scarcely concealed himself there, when the door was pushed open and two persons entered the room. The first walked with very heavy footsteps, and his first move when he entered the room was to walk over to the bed and glance at the unconscious form stretched across it. He bent over the bed, under which Carl lay, quaking with fright, and pressed the handkerchief a little tighter to the nestrils of the man who had been drugged. Then he hurriedly drew the curtain across the front of the alcove and stepped back into the middle of the room. He was a man above the middle height, red- faced, and with a black mustache; the same man, in fact, who had introduced himself to Ted as. Jim Dolan that morning. The other person who had entered the room with him was Ted Strong himself! ae Ted had entered several moments after Dolan, and he had not followed him over to. the alcove within which was the bed with the unconscious man stretched across it. -Dolan had been careful to keep himself -between the bed and the door until the curtain was drawn across the alcove, shutting it off from view. entirely. Ted had scarcely looked in the direction of the bed, for his mind was on other things, and, of course, he had no idea-what- was in the alcove. > Dolan: stepped back from it after drawing the curtain and turned to the young cattleman with a broad smile upon his face. en a na “Mr. Strong,” he said, “I’m glad to see you up here. It’s lucky I’ met you on thé street as I did. Sit down. You said yoai wanted:to have a little talk with me.” The gambler drew up a couple of chairs before a marble-topped table and set out glasses and a bottle of - whisky. “Shall I ring for water,” he said, “or do you take it straight ?” “Don’t ring on my account,” said Ted; “I don’t want any water just at present.” Bes “Oh, you drink it neat, then! That’s the proper way to drink it. Say when.” The gambler had lifted the bottle to pour some of the whisky out into a glass for Ted, but the young rough- rider stretched forth his hand and stopped him. _“None for me at all,” he said; “I don’t drink.” “Nonsense! Between friends it’s all right. Just a wee nip to cement the friendship!” _“A’ friendship that’ needs cemerting that way,” said Ted, “isn’t worth much, I don’t drink at all.” BILL WEEKLY. “There useter be a time when a refusal ter drink with a man meant an insult.” “That rule doesn’t apply to me. I never drink with any one.” : Dolan filled himself a good-sized bumper and lit a fat, black cigar. Then he picked up a pack of cards that lay on the table and began to shuffle and cut them with a skill that must have been the result of long experience, “T. was telling you this morning that I could show you all the sport you wanted,” he said. “I know that a young fellow like you needs a little excitement. I some- times drop a few hundred in a night over a pack of cards. I have always bad luck with them, and yet, strange to say, 1 could never keep away. from them. I could never understand why people took such an objection to gam- bling. To me it seems a most gentlemanly way of pass- ing away the time, and, to tell you the truth, old man, I never had any use for a fellow who didn’t take a spin at the wheel sometimes, or bet a few dollars on the ace, or drop a dollar or so at a game of poker. “Mark my words, Mr. Strong, a man that won't take a chance now and then is a man you can’t trust. He’s not a good fellow. He’s a coward and a ninny, and you know that you can never depend on a man of that kind. What I like is a free-spoken young chap, ‘with some daring and courage, who isn’t afraid to back his luck. That’s the way to succeed. All our wealthy men have , been gamblers. as poker.” Ted said nothing, nor did his face change as he lis- tened to this eulogy of gambling. He. was thinking that it. was by speeches of this kind that Dolan persuaded his dupes to gamble with him, and that most of the young fellows he played with had started to play just to show that they were good fellows and not afraid to risk their money. It is this ambition to be what is called a “good fel- low”. that starts many a young man on the downward path that ends either in suicide or in prison. It is the Wall Street is just as much of a gamble wish to show people that he is no milksop or sissy that’ starts many a boy to drinking and smoking, and leads _ him to form habits which finally prove his undoing. Did they but know it, they win the respect of no one in this manner. Those who persuade them to drink and gamble secretly despise them for yielding, and reserve their re- ae for the boy who has the strength and courage to refuse. Dolan kept on dealing, and shuffling the cards, watch- ing Ted Strong out of the corner of his eye. He did not want him to suspect that he was being entrapped into playing cards, for Dolan’s mode of life was a good deal like angling, and he knew that he might display the bait and the hook too openly, and thus scare away the human fish on whose honor and self-respect he preyed. “Perhaps you feel like a little game now,” he suggested at length. “No,” said Ted, who had been hesitating as to how to broach the subject that was uppermost in his mind. “I want to speak to you about a young fellow named Jack Malone.” “Jack Malone!” Dolan started as he repeated the word, and involun- ‘tarily cast a fleeting glance toward the curtained alcove. _ Ted-did not notice the glance, and would not have un- ‘derstood it if he had. He -hadno idea that Jack Malone was lying, drugged, in that very room in which he was now sitting. For a moment Dolan’s red face went to an ugly, mottled white, but he was a man accustomed to take desperate chances, used to surprises, and possessed of considerable nerve. He recovered himself almost in- stantly. f “Jack Malone,” he repeated thoughtfully. “It seems to me that I did know a young fellow of that name some- a about here. I don’t seem to be just able to place im. “You know him, all right,’ said Ted sternly, “and you can place him if you feel like it. You’ve been win- ning money of him for the past few days, and I guess you can remember something about him.” “Did you come up here to my room to insult me?” “No. I came up here to talk to you about this Malone. yi i a h u t! tl NEW BUFFALO I want you to return to him that money that you: won from him" © Dolan was silent for a few moments. At first he looked surprised, and then an expression of contempt came into his. red, Tace. “Young feller,” he said, “yer a little off. Ye hev been. gittin’ too gay lately, an’ yer think yer know everything. If an older man came up here an’ made a propersition like that ter me, I’d hev him sent ter ther funny house. But boys like you seem to feel a little dippy now an’ then. You'd better take a good rest fer a while. You've got good, stiff nerve ter come ter me with a propersition like thet, but ye amuse me. You don’t suppose I’ll hand out a thousand, pretty near, ter please a kid who comes here in a roughridin’ suit an’ a fancy hat?” “That is my proposition, all the same, and I believe you will see that it is not quite so unreasonable before we get through talking.” “What do you mean? If you think that you can work me so easy you are making a mistake.” “I suppose that it would be no use appealing to your feelings ?” “Not a bit.” “Nor telling you that you were ruining the life of this man?” Dolan smiled and lit a fresh cigar. “Nor that you were ruining the life of the poor girl who is engaged to marry him, and whose money you won from him?” “That talk don’t cut much ice with me.” “The money he gambled with was not his own, but the girl’s.” “Look here, I didn’t ask him whose money it was —it’s mine now.” “Well, you’ve robbed that poor girl of it.” ; spupposing I have. What are you going to do about ee ‘ Dolan felt that he had the better of the argument. He knew that no one could overhear this conversation, and he enjoyed what he considered his victory over the young cattleman. He leaned his elbows: on the table and grinned over at Ted in a most patronizing manner through half-shut eyelids. : “T guess you are a pretty brash sort of a chap,” he said, “and I suppose that you might be able to work some “people. I dare say that you are a pretty smooth talker. But it won’t work with me, young - man, let me tell you that. You seem to be wise to the fact that I make my living with the cardboards. I don’t deny it. I play a fair game. Nobody ever caught me cheating. It’s a matter of pusiness with me. Why don’t you go and ask the hotel keeper to refund the money that he took in from his guests last week? That’s about as fair a proposition as the one you make to me.” “That isn’t the same at all,” said Ted. “Mr. Brooke gives his guests something in return for their money. You don’t. He serves some good in the world. You are only a source of evil and trouble.” - “Cut it out, son; cut it out. I don’t hanker after young preachers. How do you propose to make me hand over this money, anyway? Say, you amuse me.” “I may amuse you some more before I get through. If you don’t turn over that money, I’ll call on the mayor here and on Marshal Lumpkin, who is a friend of mine. I may have more influence in this town than you imagine. Pll have you run out of town, anyway, and I'll have your life record looked up. Where is Malone, anyway? _ This last question was a chance shot of Ted’s, but it struck home. “Malone?” Dolan’s face paled suddenly. He gripped at the back of his chair and rose to his feet. He was surprised, and for a moment his shrewdness left him. “What do you know about that?” he asked. “What do you mean?” : ' Ted was sitting back in his chair, looking into Dolan’s face with his steady, brown eyes. He was reading that face as he would read a book, for in the moment of IS surprise the gambler had forgotten to keep up his usual inscrutable expression, and his feelings shone out through his ‘eyes and countenance as light shines out through glass. Ted’saw the advantage he had gained. BILL WEEKLY. Zo By a chance remark he had robbed the gambler of his self-control and coolness, and he meant to follow up that remark. Se “T- know that Malone was last seen with you,” he said; “I know that I’m going to have a search put on foot; that I’m going to charge you, with having some- thing to do with this disappearance; that you will be held until he is found. It looks as though you might have robbed him. He was last seen with you, and he had a thousand dollars in his possession then. You have no visible means of support. You will be searched, your rooms may be searched, you will find yourself in more trouble than you bargained for.” : These words, spoken in a low voice by the young range rider, seemed to burn in Dolan’s brain. He was standing beside his chair and his face was ashen. Sud- denly a new, desperate look shone out of his eyes. His hand come ‘out from under the table, and in it there was a gleaming revolver. “Young. man,” he said, in a low, husky voice, “you’ve gone. too far and know too much. “You will never leave this room alive!” Ted Strong never moved a muscle. His eyes surveyed. the quivering end of the revolver as Dolan held it pointed at him in a hand shaking with excitement, and it actu- ally seemed to the gambler as if there was something of contemptuous amusement in the glance. “Do you think that I am going to let you shoot me down that way?’ said Ted. “I may be a good deal younger than you, but I have lived in the West for some little time. Just permit me to inform you that I have . my hand in the pocket of my jacket; that there is a pistol in that pocket, and that it is pointed at your head. I don’t like to burn my clothes by discharging a. revolver, but I may be forced to do it. Sit down and calm yourself. You can’t frighten me with that weapon. Your hand shakes so that you would miss me, more than likely.” aay ae “Not much,” said Dolan; “there will be no missing fire. Ill blow your cursed brains out, if I hang for‘ it. - You have me up against the wall now, and you won’t go out of this room to make any charges against me, _. curse your eyes!” “Don’t lose sight of the fact in your excitement that my revolver is still pointed directly at your head.” oo “What -do I care? You must take me for an awful fool. There’s not a charge in that pistol of yours, not a cartridge.” “How do you know?” “How do I know? Because I took care that there shouldn’t be. Because I expected, that you might come up here to play cards with me to-day. Because I have. - played cards with young fellows before now. I have been making my living with the pasteboards for twenty years. Don’t you suppose that I have met fellows who got fresh and cut up desperate after they had lost all their money? I guess so! I’ve known ’em to pull a gun on me before now ard try to hold me up at the point of it. “T don’t take no chances. I'll let you into one of the little secrets of the trade: Before, 1 have a meeting with a feller ter play cards with him, I see if he carries any weepins, an’ I make sure that the cartridges is all drawn out of his guns before he starts. You weren't no ex- ‘ception, for this mornin’, when you were at breakfast, I went arcund an’ found your belt of arms hangin’ up in your room. There’s not a cartridge in your gun now. Pull trigger if you want to. I don’t mind the click.” Dolan, during this speech, had managed to pull him- self together and recover his nerve. He sank into his chair again, but his hand, now almost steady, still held the revolver pointed at Ted’s head. His finger, the mid- dle finger of his right hand, was trembling on the trigger, and Ted could see that it was a hair trigger. The cowboy rider felt that he was very near eternity at that moment, very near the great divide which every pilgrim must cross in his day, very close to the black en- trance to that country from whose bourn no traveler re- turns. He knew that he was facing a desperate man. He knew now that by a mere chance remark he had discovered a secret of Dolan’s, and he knew, from the desperate expression in the small, evil eyes of the gam- IE REISE A IE LT BOIS TED EIR 2 REE SETA NET ITI ILE EERIE <= 98 | NEW, BUFFALO bler, that he was prepared to kill him rather than let him disclose that secret. Yet there was no flinching in the gaze of the young roughrider. He faced the gambler as steadily as ever while he tried the revolver that he held concealed in his pocket, and upon which he had relied as a true friend in the time of danger, only to prove it false when he needed it most. Click! click! click! The sound was muffled by Ted Strong’s clothing. But Dolan heard it and smiled. It was an evil smile, that made Ted shudder in/ spite of himself. Dolan had spoken the truth about the weapon. “Ye know too much ter live,” said Dolan; “this weepin hes a small caliber. It don’t make much racket. There’s nobody upstairs in the ‘hotel now in the middle of the day. Nobody seen you come up with me. Till bunk ye away with the other one, an’ I’ll leave town ter-mor- fer). : eon Ted sat motionless. Every moment he expected to see that thick, stubby finger coil closer around the trig- ger,-to hear the report, and see the blinding flash. He knew’ that any movement on his part might make Dolan shoot the quicker. ut a For a moment Dolan hesitated. One hand was sprawled out on the table, and Ted saw it clench and unclench irresolutely.. It is a terrible thing to shoot a man down in cold =blood,-and even the most hardened villain will hesitate. before committing the act that will send a human soul into the great eternity, that will blot out a human life foréver. Ted noticed the hand move, and in its movement he read Dolan’s irresolution: He saw those thick, gross-looking fingers with the broken, dirty’ nails at the end picking. nervously at the tablecloth. _. Then he saw them clench hard and fast, and Dolan’s grim mouth set into a vicious, evil line’ An overpower- ing impulse came to Ted to close his eyes, but he re- sisted it. He knew that his best plan was to watch that finger that crooked around the trigger, and. when he saw it draw closer, ever so little, to duck and leap forward at the same time. He was nerving himself for this. His feet were on tiptoe on the floor, his hands pressed against the seat of his chair to help him. in the leap, Every ae was tense and hard, every nerve alive and on GUE. na to It seemed that the moment had come when a change came over Dolan’s face. Ted understood it. His left hand, which lay on the table, had encountered the whisky aac there, and it had brought new ideas into his mind. “Tl nerve myself for this,” he’ muttered, and he raised the. bottle. to his lips. s For the twentieth part of a second, as he lifted the bottle, his eyes were drawn away from Ted to glance at it: For the twentieth part of a second his glance wavered, and in that moment Ted leaped forward. There was a tremendous crash. Table and Dolan and Ted went over. The pistol was discharged, but the shot struck the ceiling. Dolan was flung backward, with Ted above him, and at the same instant another figure darted forward and struck. him over the head with a chair, knocking him senseless. It was Carl Schwartz, who for once in his life, and at the proper time, had been wide awake and in the right place. He had picked up a chair as he crossed the room, and had flung it at Dolan as Ted threw him backward. It was as likely to hit Ted as his. opponent, but Carl was too excited to think of this. He just threw it blindly, and, as good luck would have it, it missed Ted and struck Dolan. A moment later Carl had tutnbled over and fallen against Dolan, and, although this was unintentional, it did- the gambler a great deal more harm than anything he could have planned. Carl may not have been very speedy as a fighter, but he was all there when it came to the weighing in, and, when he fell over the body of the gambler, Dolan was stunned by the im- pact. Ted did not look up till he had pulled out his belt, a with it bound Dolan’s hands together. Then he saw arl. “Hello, Teddie,” said Carl; “dot wass a surbrise party dot I don’d just haf given you. Did you chust watch me when I come out mit mineselluf? Did you see me biff him in der butt mit mineselluf? I shouldn’t wonder oof he has killed me when he fell on me dot way so BILL WEEKLY. heavy once. Oh, Teddie, it vos great, vasn’t it? Yoy unt me, we vas fighting together mit each other, only we vass on der same side unt we vass like der Chaps, We always won out. Hey, Ted?” Carl was wildly excited over the experience he had | gone through, and his tongue had run away from him a little. “We won out that time, all right,” said Ted, “but you came mighty near getting shot through the head, ‘in the first place, apd killing me with that chkgir you threw, in the second place. You want to be careful when you try gtirprise parties like that.” “I vos a bretty prave man, anyways, Teddie,” said Carl; throwing out his chest and strutting about the room. “T dell you vot, Teddie, dot vos aboud der fiercest fight we nefer vos in alretty yet.” “But how on earth did you come here?” said Ted, “Shake hands, anyway. How are you, and how are all the boys?” “I been britty good vor der varm weather,” said Carl: “der oder poys is britty good, too, only Pean Pole, he haf a new disease, unt it makes him suffer awful. We all come oop here alretty fo see der landt poom unt to give you der surbrise party. I give it all py mine- selluf—hey, Teddy? But der iss a dead man in der alcove vere I vas? I sneaked oop here to take a sleep. I thought it was der room dot slept mit me in it, but der iss a dead man in der ped alretty, so it ain’t mine room, anyhow. I don’d know how he come dere.” “A dead man!’ said Ted, turning a little paler. “That must be Malone! And that is why Dolan was so fright- ened.” Ted dashed to the alcove, and dragged Jack Malone out into the light. But he was not dead yet, as Ted soon discovered, and a moment later he and Carl were working over him to restore consciousness, if possible. They were just rewarded by seeing their patient was breathing more easily, and had just lifted him to a bed near an open window, when the rest of the young range riders, followed by the proprietor of the hotel, rushed into the room. Some one had heard the pistol shot down- stairs and notified the proprietor, and while Mr. Brooke sent for a physician to attend to Malone, and for the city marshal; Lumpkin, to look after Dolan, who still lay bound on the floor, the young range riders shook hands and there was a general reunion. 9 “Just my luck to be out of it!” said Kit Summers. “I done id all py mineselluf,” chortled Carl. “The smell of. the chloroform is sickening,’ said Bean Pole; “I feel faint.” “You would have felt a heap sight fainter if you had gone through what Ted had gone through,” growled Ben Tremont, to whom Ted had been relating the inci- dents of the morning. “I should never have lived through it,” said Bean Pole. “Life is a flitting and chimerical thing, anyway. On every hand we are beset with diseases. Microbes lurk in the soup and bacilli in the milk, germs in the coffee and animalcule in the air we breathe.” “You fellows are a set of barbarians,” said Bob; “you can’t appreciate the beauty of the muse. You have 4 treasure among you and you don’t appreciate it; you have a remarkable man for a companion, a fellow who should be famous, and you don’t realize it,” “Who is this remarkable man?” asked Bean Pole. _ “Me,” said Carl promptly; “I am der pravest fighter in der punch. You should haf seen me ven I vos fight- ing mit der. chair.” “I bet the chair got the best of it,” said Ben. “Here,” said Ted, “the prisoner is in good hands now, and so is Malone. We had better clear out of here and go downstairs and get some lunch.” TO BE CONTINUED. SHE: LIKED: Professor (to young 4ady student)—“Your position 's very low, and you have only just passed.” _ Young. Lady—“Oh, I am so glad.” “Why 2” ie “I do so love a tight squeeze.” / of kr ot ta an an co fo po / &a th ter sr tee in ne tal on an ‘al ne- der ep. but ine oll led ci- er it= W, nd mn 27 THe NEWS OF THE WORLD, Man Tires of Shovel; Tries Check Forging, Robert LeGrand, of Wells, Nevada, tired of laboring with a shovel, tried his hand with a pen, and executed a clever forgery of Frank Smiley’s signature, copied from a check with which Smiley had paid LeGrand’s wages. He had cashed both checks, when Miss Maude Carruth, | assistant cashier at the bank, discovered the forgery. He pleaded guilty to forgery at Elko, and was taken to Carson City Saturday night, to serve a sentence of from one to fourteen years. Lad Kills Companion. In a spirit of wild West frolic, Raymond Schaffer, eleven years old, “drew a bead” on Willie Hollow, of the same age, at their camp in the mountains near Santa Bar- bara, California. The command was not heeded, so Ray- mond pulled the trigger and his playmate fell dead. Un- known to others, the lads had taken the revolver from the house where they had their meals, and Willie had a belt of cartridges strapped about his waist when he fell. Both have widowed mothers. Gamblers Ail Out. Mayor Smith, of Philadelphia, went over the heads of the entire police department to give a personal assign- ment to Detective Alfred Souder. He installed Souder in room 211, city hall, just opposite the mayor’s office. Nobody knew what Souder was doing until it became known that the detective had been put in charge of twelve other gumshoes to clean out the gamblers. And simul- taneously with this revelation it was learned that Souder and his detail went out dutifully to do this little thing, and found Philadelphia spotless, so far as gambling is concerned. Rooms that had been ablaze with electric light twenty- four hours a day for two months or more were suddenly dark. The windows were shuttered, and no amount of pounding on the doors brought any result, because the / gambling houses were empty. They visited fifteen of the more notorious joints in the eighth, ninth, tenth, twelfth, thirteenth, and four- teenth wards, and then got savage, and turned on the small fish. Policeman’s Bullet Kills Innocent Boy. While on his way from church, Francis Varley, seven- teen years old, stopped a block from his home, at 776 Franklin Avenue, Brooklyn, to watch a crowd. of boys in a dice game, and was shot and killed by a policeman in plain clothes. Witnesses told Coroner Ernest C. Wag- ner that, although the boy ran to escape arrest, he had taken no part in the game, and had been standing there only a few minutes. The policeman said the shooting was an accident. A few minutes before Francis joined a group of boys who were watching the players, Policeman Orin L. Mana- han, who had been assigned to prevent gambling among boys by the captain of the Grand Street station, saw them, and made plans to trap them. He stopped a passing auto- in Ait diasletactt ne eter mobile, driven by Charles French, and instructed him to drive up the street slowly and to stop directly opposite the group of boys. When the boys saw the policeman jump from the automobile, all ran, leaving Francis the only boy of the group. He was seized by Manahan, and, according to witnesses, apparently became frightened by. the manner of the policeman, for, when Manahan stooped to pick up the dice and money, Francis ran across a near-by lot. The policeman drew his pistol as he started in pursuit and fired one shot. Francis fell with a bullet through his lungs, and died before ambulance surgeons arrived. Mana- han contended that the shooting was accidental. He said that when he drew his pistol from his pocket, with the intention of firing into the air, he stumbled, and the bullet struck the boy with no aim or pointing of the gun. The driver of the automobile denied that the police- man had stumbled, and his testimony before Coroner Wagner was corroborated by George Moore, George Far- rell, Mrs. Charlotte Gore, several soldiers from the Four- teenth New York Infantry, and residents who had heard the commotion when the policeman interrupted the dice game. Francis fell within sight of his home, and his mother collapsed when the news was carried to her. She had heard the shot. The ambulance surgeon who had been called for Francis went to the house to attend her. She told Coroner Wagner that Francis had only ten cents when he left‘home to attend mass at St. Teresa’s Church, and that the night before he had given her the one dollar extra he had earned by working overtime at his job at the Columbia Supply Store. Huge African Lioness Loose, A large African lioness, that kept the farming district around Monticello, Illinois, in a state of terror for a week, doubled on her three hundred armed pursuers and appeared once more on the Robert Allerton estate, five and one-half miles southwest of Monticello, less than two hours after the posse had thrashed the dense thicket in which she was said to have taken cover. The lioness appeared within one hundred yards of the spot at which two days before she attacked Thomas Gol- lop, butler of the Allerton family, who was picking wild flowers, and was plainly seen in a field adjoining the residence by the housekeeper and two maids who were on the roof. Residents of the district made a determined effort to get rid of the animal, and nearly one thousand armed men assembled at the Allerton estate. Only three hun- dred were picked, and these were men armed with high- power rifles. Captain Herbert Walsh and Lieutenant J. M. Dona- hue, veterans of the Spanish War, and commanding local National Guard companies, were placed in command, and a strict discipline maintained. Orders were given to keep dressed to center of line and keep muzzles of guns de- pressed. A skirmish line of hunters, with a breadth of over half a mile, advanced on the thicket. A line of com- munication by armed motor patrols and telephones was i intact pts sence ith tie le ith Mee RAND Me A MN a om "y tt ts Neate taste FSSA ATES 5 RAS CED OTRO, THE 28 7 NEW BUFFALO attempted, but once the skirmishers were swallowed in the thicket, all attempts at communication failed. Once engulfed in this mass of underbrush, the men were unable to see more than ten feet ahead, and only by continual shouting was the line kept intact. For nearly eight hours the posse stumbled over twisted vines and half-hidden logs. Despite this and the fact that numbers of barbed-wire fences were crossed, no accidents occurred tor was one gun accidentally discharged. Onee hopes were high, as a wallow recently tenanted by the lioness was discovered. When the posse first as- sembled at the picturesque residence of Mr. Allerton, there were Civil War veterans, with their old rifles; mere boys, with smooth-bore shotguns bigger than themselves ; others with rifles with bayonets fixed, and some carried old squirrel guns of bygone days. The state of terror and excitement was shown by one autoist who mistook the lamps of af approaching ma- chine for the glaring eyes of the lioness. Without reducing the speed of his own car, the scared autoist discharged both barrels of a shotgun into the radiator of the supposed lion. All persons who have seen the animal declare it is a full-grown African lioness, which is supposed to have escaped from a carnival company in Champaign, Illinois. The locality in which the hunt was. made is along the Sangamon River and rattlesnakes were encountered fre- quently. Robert Allerton, son of the late Samuel Allerton, Chi- cago banker and farmer, offered a reward of two hun- dred and fifty dollars for the lioness’ capture. A Snake’s Predicament. R. A. Daniell, a printer, who makes his summer home in a houseboat moored in the river north of Beaumont, Texas, captured a water moccasin, four feet nine and one- half inches long, which had its diving machinery out of commission. Daniell knocked the reptile into the stream with his cane, and the moment it dived to escape him, it popped up again to the surface. Its repeated failure to remain under the water prompted Daniell to effect its capture with a crab net, and, when examined, it was discovered that the snake had swallowed a large china nest egg, through mistake, while robbing a hen house. Be The china ege formed an air chamber, which forced the snake to the surface the moment the force of its effort to dive was éxpended. Bandit Leaders Artested. Another chapter in the bandit raids of 1915 on the lower Mexican border, in which twenty-four soldiers and civilians were killed, was written with the arrest of Aniceto Pizana and De la Rosa in different parts of the State of Tamaulipas. Pizana and De la Rosa were the alleged leaders in the raids, conducting their opera- tions, it is charged, from the Mexican side of the river. The former was taken at Victoria, Tamaulipas, together with his brother, Ramon Pizana; the latter having been acquitted in the United States courts, after which he went to Mexico. De la Rosa was arrested in Matamoros, opposite here, According to information received at Brownsville, Texas, the arrests wete made upon the orders of Presi- BILL WEEKLY, dent Carranza, who instructed that the men be taken under adequate guard to the City of Mexico. The cause for their arrest in Mexico is unknown. It is believed, how- ever, to be the result of negotiations between the United States and Mexico. Auto Driver Solves Puzzling Tite Mystery. Driving his automobile ove. sticky pavements on an in- tensely hot day recently, Paul S. Troutman, of Pasadena, California, heard the unwelcome sound of a tire blow- out. He climbed out into the hot sun, inspected the two front wheels, then the two rear wheels, and found all four in perfect shape. Then he looked under the car. Nothing was the matter. Finally he walked around the machine, and discovered that the extra tire strapped to the back of the car had exploded. _Nineteen-yeat-old Hen Does Her Bit, Fifteen years ago, Adam Stouffer, of Findlay, Ohio, purchased a Plymouth Rock hen from Frank T. Patter- son. To-day the same hen, at the age of nineteeti years, Stouffer claims, is laying eggs with the rest of his flock, and there ate no indications that she is going to quit. Poultry fanciers claim this record beats them all. New Cute fot Snake Bite. Rare presence of mind was displayed by J. A. Baker, roadmaster for the Southern Pacific Railroad at Uvalde, Texas, when he was bitten on the middle finger of his tight hand by a rattlesnake. Seizing the finger with his left hand, and compressing it so as to stop the flow of blood, he called to his daughter to bring an ax, and, plac- ing the wounded finger on a block, he ordered her to chop it off just below the fang marks. Two blows were necessary. Zeppelin Scare in Iowa. Surrounded by an excited army, who thought they were German air raiders, a crew of United States army balloonists numbering twenty-two were compelled to call on a number of National Guardsmen to vouch for them when their aircraft landed in a cornfield at Rowley, 4 small village near Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The. balloon made the distance of two hundred and eighty miles from Fort Omaha in four hours, averaging seventy miles an hour, which is nearly a record flight. The big gas bag was shipped back to Omaha from here. Not Prohibition Bees. After all other methods to induce a swarm of bees to come into a hive had failed, Thomas Gaunt, of Dear- born, Missouri, threw a cup of cold water among them. The result was that the entire swarm settled upon Gaunt and stung him into insensibility in a few minutes. It was thought for a time that the stings would prove fatal, but the man is recovering. Man’s Stomach Is a Regular Museum. More than four hundred and fifty pieces of metal, weighing three and one-half pounds, and including nails, screws, tacks, and safety pins, were found in Joseph Quin- lin’g» stomach when he was operated upon for gall stones at the Philadelphia Hospital. In addition, two hundred and fifty gall stones were removed. Among the other articles found were a small padlock aken e for 10W- lited | in- ena, low- the und car, the the hio, Ler ars, ck, iit, er, de, his his of to ire e with a three-inch chain, a cigar cutter, tenpenny nails, thirty-four spoon handles, one dozen safety pins, forty pieces of type, and the same number of lead slugs, two three-inch hooks for screen doors, and several American medals, coins, and badges. Doctor E. L. Eliason, of the hospital staff, who operated on Quinlin, said he would probably survive. f Cat Stops Car Service, Interurban and street-car service in Oklahoma County, Oklahoma, was tied up’ for ten minutes because a cat chased a rat up one of the iron frames suspending the power cables of a substation. The cat became entangled on two heavily charged wires, producing a short circuit, which also short-circuited kitty’s nine lives. Linemen re- moved the lifeless cat, and the cars started. Hole in Sidewalk Engulfs Three Boys. The spring sunlight lay warm and alluring on East Fourteenth Street, New York. It brought three five-year- olds to the foot of the wall surrounding the Consolidated Gas Company’s yard, near Avenue C, where passing feet do not so often obliterate the chalk marks one needs in a marble game. For perhaps fifteen minutes Joseph Delehanty, Tommy Pulitski, and Frank Dowichkowsky played together, hop- ping about and squabbling like so many sparrows. And then suddenly they were not. One minute they had been crouched on the flagging, all talking at once. The next, the three active little figures had vanished, the sidewalk was empty, and a hole yawned black where they had stood. The earth had opened like a great mouth beneath them, and had swallowed them and seven feet of pavement without a sound. From the cavity came sounds of splashing and screams of terror, for the throat of the hole was filled with muddy water, in which the three floundered, striving vainly for a handhold upon the gravel about them. In a few seconds only two voices were crying for aid, and when Marcus Sussman, a street cleaner, arrived at the lip of the hole, the frightened faces of Joseph and Tommy alone peered up at him. Sussman plunged in and held up the pair until Michael Dunne, a special policeman, and John Fitzgerald came to his aid. The children were dragged out, pointing at the thick brown water below and wailing for “Frank.” The hole was deep, and the three men dived for some time in an effort to find the third lad. The bottom was thick with sticky mud, which clung to them. At last they were obliged to give way to firemen from Engines 5 and 20 and the Rescue Squad. They grappled for the body without result. The en- gines attempted to pump out the hole, but could make no headway against the water. Frank Clark, of the Res- cue Squad, put on a regulation oxygen helmet and tried to descend, diverlike, into the cavity. The headpiece quickly filled with water, and he had to be dragged out again, At: last, when everything else had failed, a diver was summoned. He was one Moran, employed by a subway construction company. He went down twice before he found the body, far underground, almost beneath a gas tank at the other side of the wall. The hole was twenty feet deep, and the fact that the work of the fire engines failed to reduce the amount of AS artnet en a Stent tt sate A NEW BUFFALO | BILL WEEKLY, : 29 water it contained led to the belief. that it was connected with the East River by an underground passage. The gas tank near by was old and. was being dismantled: at the time of the accident, Young Naval Recruit Drowns, News of the death of Leslie Johnson, who is said to have leaped from the cruiser Huntington off the coast of Florida, while delirious during an attack of pneumonia, has been received at Willows, California, by his brother Fred Johnson. Fred and his aunt, Mrs. Mike Kahn, left by auto for Hamilton City, where Mr. and Mrs. George Johnson, the dead youth’s parents, live. Young Johnson was one of the first recruits to join the navy from Willows after the declaration of war. He was eighteen years old. Mrs. Claude F. Purkitt, of Wil- lows, is a sister of the drowned lad. It is said that the body was not recovered. An elder brother, Silas Johnson, was accidentally shot while hunting, two years ago. “Plot” Joker Learns Police Can Joke. “Bombs!” A hoarse whisper in Special Patrolman Con- ners’ ear made him jump, despite the ‘dignity of his khaki uniform and the fact that he was guarding the western end of Brooklyn Bridge. He faced the whisperer, a man of ruddy countenance and potent breath, and demanded details. He got them. Three minutes later Conners knew all about the German plot to blow up a New York newspaper, for David Gor- man had described the impending outrage in detail. “I work in a restaurant, at 50 Broadway,” he said. “The two guys that are going to do it are there now. Hurry.” Conners hurried. So did Captain Tunney, of the Bomb Squad; so did Detectives Cornell and Kiley, who were rushed to the restaurant. A half hour later the detectives returned to police head- quarters with Gorman and two flustered waiters, who were nearing hysterics. They almost wept when they pro- tested their innocence to Captain Tunney. In the midst of the questioning Gorman burst into laughter. “Haw! haw!” he exclaimed. “It’s a joke. I was only kiddin’ these guys.” Questioned further, the joker admitted that he had been drinking. “The joke is on you,’ Tunney announced. you for disorderly conduct.” Gorman did not laugh when he was held in three hun- dred dollars bail at the Tombs court for trial, 29 “TI. arrest Gas Tank Explodes; One Dead. Michael Kendall, confectioner, is dead and three others are suffering from injuries as the result of an explosion of a tank of carbonic-acid gas, used in charging soda water in his store in Philadelphia. Police Chief Sent to Prison. Samuel V. Perrett, chief of police of Indianapolis, who was convicted in Federal court of election frauds several weeks ago, has been sentenced to four years in the Fed- eral prison and fined one thousand dollars. Police Captain Roy Pope, Detective Stringe, and Ser- geants Sanders and Hulze were given six months in nee. is Nin Mea tin A. i Athy, hn tne usta ay Aa ri wt Aeenitry 9 er ine Hea dae tly ain or Poca A le Pat 30 | ' ao NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. jail and fined fifty dollars each, and Herman Adam, To reach Camp 20 it was necessary to make a detour former city sealer, was sentenced to two years and six of ten miles, amore the camp is but a mile from West- months in prison and fined five hundred dollars. ‘wood. The burned-over area will be fine grazing land next Gave Life for His Hat. spring. The damage is reported nominal. A gust of wind carrying his hat on the track of the / ae Traction ee in North Millville, New Jer- Police Raid Gambling Pools, sey, Martin Lowa made an attempt to recover it, and was Detectives of the gambling squad in St. Louis, Mis- struck by a trolley car and horribly marigled. souri, led by Sergeant Stinger, recently made two raids Bystanders turned their heads, believing that the man in an effort to break up the selling of baseball pools and would be ground to death under the wheels. When picked similar games of chance. up, Lowa was breathing, but died a few minutes after At the Tip Social Club they arrested six men, including he was admitted to the Millville Hospital. He was thirty- (William Koenig, who told the police he operated the seven years of age and married. Standard Score Card Lottery, on which he cleared from The motorman was exonerated from blame. forty dollars to sixty dollars a week. Koenig’s story re- ’ sulted in the confiscation of many new and cancelled tickets Wife and Mother Beat. Policeman: and a sealing machine, which inclosed the slips in en- Policeman Isaac Reuben was directing southbound traf- ° Velopes. Proofs and typ . forms also Ve vaeen from : i : ; the printing shop of Phil Kustina. Koenig said he had fic in Broadway at Sixty-fifth Street, New York City, with . ‘ : : as eleven agents who sold tickets. The holder of the win- a solid stream of automobiles bound for theaters, when Se uuu ff i ee, his wife and her mother suddenly put an end to the traffic Pe a ee reece: aim regulations upon which the police department has been ber of runs - the week received fifty dollars. in : The detectives later arrested Charles Bader, thirty years diligently working for so many years. ‘ : Wie mother dalaw mak cuiioced (or scive Geld cea: old, and oe number of tickets used in operating ice with a highly polished baton, belonging to Reuben’s phe” Bankers ac Report seh has . oe a Hee ita. ment to the police, Bader said he and his father-in-law, (nuk Win deen) on the head, ee quoted aS ohn McAndrew, had been operating the pool since last ee ‘November, printing the tickets at the University Street “You wretch! You are leading a double life!” address. He furnished the names of seven agents, who “Yes, policeman by day and son-in-law. by night,” Reu- sold ten-cent chances at various auto and shoe factories, iow ceplied, the winner receiving a ten-dollar prize if he held a num- No youl are callie an) susiher weanale ee eee ber corresponding to the last three figures of the daily St. “Nonsense,” Reuben said; “I have enough trouble trying Louis bank-clearing report. to lead a single life without trying the double stuff.” Traffic was stopped, and Reuben was suffering a severe © Humphries Family Slain. punching and beating and mauling when Policeman Win- George C. Tompkins, in jail at Johnstown, Pennsylvania, negar, regulating northbound traffic, said the women would has confessed to the murder of Edmund I. Humphries, have to desist. They said he didn’t know. what he was Mrs. Humphries, and their fifteen-year-old son, Edmund talking about, and the scuffle went on. J., near Carrolltown on a recent Sunday. In the presence More than a thousand persons had gathered, and traffic Of his attorney and Warden Knee, the prisoner made a was congested for many blocks when Inspector Faurot’s Clean breast of the entire affair. automobile arrived. He had several policemen with him The accused man told how he secured the revolver, and and sent them through the crowd to check the Reuben ave his reasons for the triple murder, but these have family troubles. not been divulged by the officials. Tompkins withheld The result was that mother and daughter were sent Hoe oe stated. ) : : to the West Sixty-eighth Street station, Policeman Reu- Tompkins and Humphries were partners in business ben being the arresting officer. At the station they were deals, and it has been stated that they had quarreled. The informed, when Reuben refused to make a charge against murder took place while the four were on an automobile them, that they would have to make their complaint at deve ia me oe ' ee. the domestic relations court. Tompkins brought the bodies of his victims into town. His first story was that the party had been held up by three masked robbers, and that he escaped by falling and “playing dead” when the Humphries were shot. Another important chapter was written into the triple murdér when George Mahlor, of Emigh Run, positively Brush Fire, identified Tompkins as the man he saw coming from the Upward of ten thousand acres of slashings have been cornfield in which the body of Mr. Humphries was found burned over to the north and west of Westwood, Cali- a short time later. fornia. Although never near the townsite, the logging Mahlor said that he, his wife, and two children were camps have been threatened, and for two nights at Camp en route from their home in Ebensburg in an automobile 19 the entire force of one hundred and twenty men was Sunday, when he saw an automobile standing beside the needed to save the buildings from destruction. road, near the Carrolltown fair grounds. Mahlor said On two occasions the barn at that camp, containing sev- that a stray dog, with its head covered with blood, first eral thousand dollars’ worth of hay and grain, caught fire attracted his attention. The dog was near the automo- from flying sparks. bile. They were warned not to interfere again git a police- man in the discharge of his duty, and were dismissed. Traffic was blocked twenty minutes. ur xt “I stopped my machine about one hundred yards from the standing automobile,” Mahlor said, “and decided to investigate. I walked to the automobile, and was startled to find two bodies in the tonneau of the machine. One was that of a woman and the other a boy. I hurried back to my car and was going to drive on, as I didn’t want my family to see the bodies. The children asked me to get the dog for them, and I returned.” Mahlor said when he picked the dog up he heard a noise in the cornfield and turned. “I saw that man— Tompkins—running zigzag out of the cornfield,” he said. Mahlor said that the man, apparently dazed, walked over to the standing automobile, without noticing him. Mahlor ran with the dog, he said, and got. into his auto- mobile, driving to Ebensburg, where he gave the first alarm of the sensational triple murder. An automatic pistol was found hidden in-a clump of bushes at the roadside near the place where the tragedy is believed to have occurred. Detectives immediately began to work on the theory that the pistol is the property of Tompkins. Tompkins and Humphries were associated in a coal com- pany formed about two months ago, and had previously been partners in the automobile business in Philadelphia. Tompkins is said to have borrowed a sum of money from Mrs. Humphries with which to purchase an interest in a newly organized coal company in which Humphries was a large stockholder. According to this story, the party was en route to Philadelphia, where it was intended Tompkins was to mortgage a property in order to meet. this debt. According to the first story told by Tompkins, the masked highwaymen surprised the party while a punc- tured tire was being repaired, and that the shots which caused the deaths of the Humphries family were fired at a distance of seventy feet in front of the automobile. Tompkins said he saved his life by dropping and feign- ing death. After examining the bodies, Coroner Fitzgerald an- nounced that all the bullets were fired at close range; powder burns being found on two of the bodies, and that the shots were fired from behind. Shepherd Dog Is Life-saver. Eugene Mullen, ten, son of Mr. and Mrs. Michael Mul- len, was saved from drowning in a lake near Kenton, Ohio, by his pet shepherd dog. The boy, who did not know how to swim, waded into deep water, and was going under for the third time when the dog took hold of his bathing togs. Boys attracted to the scene by the dog’s barking saw the animal take hold of the boy and swim for the shore. Valuable Dogs Killed by Poison. Unknown parties in Waycross, Georgia, are poisoning some of the most valuable dogs in the city, and, as a result of recent losses, a thorough effort is being made to get evidence in cases that will warrant arrests and prosecutions. Dogs are regarded as property, and the owners of the animals killed are up in arms over the matter. There has been no mad-dog scare or anything like that to cause any one to wage a war on dogs, and apparently the cru- sade against the animals is without the least semblance of justification. Mladen san I Ore Aa ee! NEW BUFFALO sects se tend Sa OR in, ln Bs Ane hn NY One citizen who lost a fine dog said any person who would put out poison to kill dogs which in many cases are great pets would hardly stop at anything. He classed the dog poisoner as an undesirable citizen, and said if he could get evidence in his case he would not ask the courts to handle the poisoner for him. # Some Cop. Patrolman Lee, of Ellicott City, Maryland, single- handed, arrested fourteen men caught in a crap game on the Patapsco River. The prisoners were each fined ten dollars and costs by Magistrate Albert Musgrave. Hotse Committed Suicide. Jim, a fine bay horse belonging to John Henry, a rancher living near Mason, Nevada, committed suicide, according to its owner, by jumping into the Walker River. The horse walked out onto the wagon bridge span- ning the river a short distance above the town, and jumped over the rail into the water. The animal never came to the surface again. ; Dies After Drinking Ice Water. Nelson Morgan, carpenter, sixty years of age, died sud- denly at Reno, Nevada, while at work. The autopsy re- vealed nothing wrong with his heart or other organs. Much was found in the stomach, and Morgan’s fellow workers explained he had drunk deeply from a bucket with ice in it. The doctors at once declared that overdilation and chill- ing of the stomach caused death. ‘Three Robbers Drug Bartender. Pat Bond, Sherman Owensby, and Al Snyder walked into the Rio Vista Hotel bar at Sparks, Nevada, and, after ordering drinks, invited the bartender, Bill Cooper, to have-one, too.. On some pretext Cooper’s attention was distracted, while one of the men poured chloral into his whisky. When Cooper passed into oblivion, the three men rifled the safe and the cash register of twenty-eight dollars. They had got barely half a block away, when the pro- prietor entered the bar. He followed the three men, sig- naled Chief of Police Crowley, and had them locked up. Woman Catches Two Burglats. France. may revere her Joan of Arc, Frederick -City can acclaim the valiance of her mythical Barbara Frietchie, but Bolton Street, Baltimore, is boasting a heroine who is in a class by herself. She won fame by frustrating an attempt at burglary, and turned over the culprits to the police. She is Mrs. Charles Chapin Heath, 1813 Bolton Street, and one of the charter members of the Baltimore Coun- try Club and the first president of the Woman’s Club of Roland Park. The incident occurred shortly after the luncheon hour, when all Beiton Street lay steeped in siesta calm. Mrs. Heath was the sole occupant of her house. She sat, sewing, and had the unpleasant impres- sion of not being alone in the house. Once this feeling was so strong she went to the head of the stairs and lis- tened, but all was silence until she heard knocking at the screened door of the kitchen, which she had hooked before going upstairs, BILL WEEKLY. ol LEER ORES sr ar er ' t 5 F f i i 32 ‘NEW BUFFALO On descending to the kitchen, she found a man with a scythe outside the unhooked screen door, and he asked whether she desired the grass cut in the yard. In de- scending the stairs Mrs. Heath noticed the drawing room and dining room in a state of confusion. Her husband’s desk was opened, and part of its contents, together with some silver from the carving table, were piled on the kitchen table. Swiftly her mind grasped the fact that, with a scythe projected through a rent in the screen near the bottom of the door, the hook could easily be lifted from the outside. Also that the person who had ransacked the lower floor might readily think the house deserted, but rapped on the door before venturing upstairs in order to make assurance doubly sure. Mrs. Heath rehooked the door, looked the caller straight in the eyes, pointed sternly to the ransacked rooms, and asked : “What is the meaning of all this?” The man with the scythe disclaimed any knowledge of the robbery, and said that if he was allowed to enter he might be able to assist her, and suggested that a painter at work upon the next house might know some- thing about it. Mrs. Heath called the painter, who told her a second man with a scythe was crouching in the yard. “Don’t you dare to move!” she commanded the first man with a scythe, and “Come here at once!” she com- manded the second. The crouching person advanced and stood beside his eOmpaniOn: She implored the painter to stand guard over “these twain,” and, while he did so, she summoned police assistanee over the telephone. When she returned, the painter withdrew, leaving her to cope single-handed with her captives, who no sooner saw her thus forsaken than they ran. Mrs. Heath pur- sued them. She called to them to stop and clapped her hands violently together. The fugitives probably mistook ‘the sound for the report of a pistol, for they halted. “IT arrest you. Go back to that yard!” she ordered. And they went, but not for long, for they again ran from the yard. An automobile patrol filled with policemen dashed up. They found an almost collapsed woman, but — they also found two men with scythes, who were ar- rested. Broken Side Door Causes Accident. The board of inquiry of the Southern Pacific Company, after an investigation of the queer sidewiping accident that. occurred to a passenger train near Ben Ali, Cali- fornia, a week ago, has decided that a projection from an open door of a freight car was responsible. The projection scraped along the sides of the passen- ger cars and injured several people. E. R. Parker, who was leaning on his arm in an open window of the pas- senger smoker, sustained a fractured elbow. Mrs. J. B. Ross was slightly cut about the head and face from flying glass. Miss J. Lynch was cut on the hands and lower limbs by glass and Sam Wilcox was ey _ scratched. The decision of the inquiry board was as follows: “It is the opinion that the south door of stock car ~SP 73387 had become loosened from car at the front side through some unknown agency, and’that the suction of the passing trains pulled it away from the car suffi- ciently to engage the side of mail car in train No. 6; then door began to break up, and was kept swinging by the motion of the train, causing further damage. A small BILE WEEKLY, portion of the rear of the door was found on car, secured in the regular manner, when train was inspected, the for- ward portion being broken to pieces, with no evidence to show how the front side had pecont: detached from its fastenings.” Will Provides for Outings. Ander the will of Rudolph Anton Sinnhold, of Rochelle Park, New Jersey, who died recently, the children under twelve years who live in the apartment house at 1004 Avenue A, New York City, will receive yearly outings. By the terms of the will, probated to-day, one thousand dol- lars will be made a trust fund for an outing each year for the children of the house mentioned, and also for their parents and guardians, in the discretion of the trus- tees of the fund. The outings will continue only as long as the house exists. After that the fund is to go to the New York Society for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled, at 321 East Forty-second Street, New York City. Boy “Hooking” Auto Ride, Suffers Broken Leg. Lloyd Dolin was run down by an automobile on the free bridge and suffered a fractured left leg and internal in- juries, but saved himself from being crushed by hanging to the headlight until the car was stopped. The automobile was driven by John Foley. Dolin was “hooking” a ride on an auto truck with several companions. He was taken to the City Hospital. Hunters Kill ‘Two Companions. Roy McCrary, nine-year-old son of James McCrary, of Albany, Oregon, was accidentally shot and killed by Curtis Odenbolg, eighteen-year-old son of Chris Odenbolg, of the same place. The accident occurred in the woods north of Albany, where Odenbolg and a companion were hunting squirrels with a .22-caliber rifle. The McCrary boy and two other lads had been picking wild strawberries, and sat down on the ground, the former with his back against a log. The top of his head just showing above the log and his gray cap made Odenbolg think it was a gray squirrel. When the boy moved his head, Odenbolg thought surely it was a squirrel, and fired, the bullet entering the boy’s brain. A few days before, Dave Cotterell was shot and almost instantly killed by Lane Wyland at Meadows, Oregon. The shooting is believed to have been accidental. The men were together with cattle on the range in the hills near Beagle. Cotterell probably was mistaken for a beast of prey. . The men had been chums and neighbors for years. Wyland is grief-stricken and begs to be shot. Pastor’s Dog Too Big for Town. Reverend W. W. Bustard, of Cleveland, Ohio, had a dog, and his name was Don. Don is a large dog, with boister- ous manners. He crawled under a house one day aA nearly upset the house trying to get out. He tried to leap into a milk wagon for a ride, and nearly upset the wagon. _ Reverend W. W. Bustard decided he was too large and strong for a city, but would be a fine dog on a farm. He is good at watch-dogging. While waiting for the situation on a farm, Don is stopping at the home of the Animals’ Protective League. : y ; i a @ | i i ES San sense SNCS eg cnsiencice pe ry tees ae gee eR per een et cee New Buffalo Bill PSS UE D my © Ro 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 hin. 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 many years, and are In no manner can you become so thoroughly 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. 44—Buffalo Bill’s Grim Climb. 45— Buttalo Bill's Red Knemy. 46—Buffalo Bill on a Traitor’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, 53—Buffalo Bill’s Dakota Peril. 54—Buffalo Bill’s Tomahawk Duel. 55—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Round-up. 56—Buffalo Bill's I] 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. 638—Buffalo Bill’s Border Beagles. 64—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black. 65—Buffalo Bill on the Deadwood Trail. 66—Buffalo Bill in the Canon 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. 73—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent. (4—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 Mission. 79—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Raid. 80—Buffalo Bill’s Traitor Guide. 81—Buffalo Bill’s Camp Fires. 82—Buffalo Bill Up a Stump. 838—Buffalo Bill’s Seeret 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. 89— 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. 93—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. 101—Buffalo Bill’s Death Defiance. 102—Buffalo Bill and the Barge Bandits. 103—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, 1138—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. 129—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance. 130—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. 135—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty. 36—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery. 37—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party. 38—Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride. 89—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. 143—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. 158—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards. 154—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé. 155— Buffalo Bill Ensnared. feed peek fed fom -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—Buffalo 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—Buffalo 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. 183— Buffalo Bill’s Queer 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—Luffalo Bill's Fiesta. 198— Buffalo Bill Among the Cheyennes. 199—Buffalo Lill Besieged. 200—Buffalo Bill and the Red Hand. 201—Buffalo Bill's Tree-Trunk Drift. 202—Butffalo Bill and.the Specter. 203—Butffalo 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. 281—Buffalo Bill and the Deserter. 232—Buffalo Bill’s Island in the Air. 233—Buffalo Bill, Town Marshal. 234—Buffalo Bill’s Ultimatum. 235—Buffalo Bill’s Test. 236— Buffalo Bill and the Ponea Raiders 237—Buffalo Bill’s Boldest Stroke. 238—Buffalo Bill’s Enigma. 239—Buffalo Bill’s Blockade. 240—Buffalo Bill and the Gilded Clique. 241—Buffalo Bill and Perdita Reyes. 242—Buffalo Bill and the Boomers. 243—Buffalo Bill Calls a Halt. 244—Buffalo Bill and the Ke-Weck Totem. 245—Buffalo Bill’s O. K. 246—Buffalo Bill at Cafion Diablo. 247— Buffalo Bill's Transfer. 248—Duffalo Bill and the Red Horse Hunt- ers. 249—Buffalo Bill’s Dangerous Duty. 250— Buffalo Bill and the Chief’s Daughter. 251—Buffalo Bill at Tinaja Wells. 252—RBuffalo Bill and the Men of Mendon. 253—Buffalo Bill at Rainbow’s End. 254—Buffalo Bill and the Russian Plot. 255—Buffalo Bill’s Red Triangle. 256—Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. 257—Buffalo Bill’s Tramp Pard. 258—Buffalo Bill on the Upper Missouri. 259—Buffalo Bill’s Crow Scout. 260— Buffalo Bill’s Opium Case. Dated September 8th, 1917. 261—Buffalo Bill's Witcheraft. Dated September 15th, 1917. 262—Buffalo Bill’s Mountain Foos. Dated September 22d, 1917. 263—Burffalo Bill’s Battle Cry. Dated September 29th, 1917. 264—Buffalo Bill's Fight for the Right. PRICE, SIX CENTS PER’ COPY. If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your news dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money. STREET & SMITH CORPORATION, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City Ll ak gett hy at pi iy: ite elim ly ee la ie ae ae ee ene a ee age ea ae