DEVOTED TO FAR WEST LIFE O BILL AT = = B IREE GAP : | ' | i. at ae 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, 1918, 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 S-months.. <3 -.:i-.756..) 6, months. .2. 55.4.5 $1.50 | 2 copies one year.$5.00 change of number on your label. If not corrcet you have not been . 4 months..-... + --$1.001 One year. .-....... 3.00 | 1 copy two years. -5.00 properly credited, and should let us know at once. ° ' No. 282. NEW YORK, February 2, 1918 Price Six Cents. we BUFFALO BILL AT LONE TREE GAP: OR, PAWNEE BILL IN THE BEAR PIT. By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.” CHARTER. I. DOUBLY AN ORPHAN. . ‘Just as the sun came up over the far-away eastern range, bathing the intermediate valleys and lower hills with a ~. ruddy glow, a cavalcade of three persons rode out of the mouth of Sandeman Pass and so down the mountain to- ward the junction of the Sandeman and Lone Tree Gap trails. ~ In this wilderness—for such that part of Utah could be called at that day—the cavalcade was strange, for it consisted of a young woman, a handsome, keen-eyed, alert- looking. man in Stetson, riding jacket, tight-fitting trou- sers, and high, polished boots; and as the third member of the party a rotund, round-eyed, yellow-haired, and rosy- cheeked German, dressed in an outing suit and little fore- and-aft cap, and his thin legs straddling a huge, mouse- colored mule. Their eyes had scarcely become used to the sudden daz- zling of\the sun when the man on the mule exploded thus: ’ _ “Ach, himmelblitzen! Look er dere, Bawnee! Iss idt dot mein eyes decéif me yedt, or is idt. more Inchuns? Undt gomin’ from de east—vos iss?” The girl uttered a quick exclamation of fear; but then, seeing the other man smiling broadly, she took heart and her own pretty lips were wreathed in a smile. “Oh, Major Lillie, it can’t be more Indians—can it?” she urged. “Not from that direction,” chuckled Major Gordon W.: Lillie, or Pawnee Bill, as he was known throughout the broad West. “This is the balance of the mounted troopers from Fort Prevost.” Within the next hour this statement of the handsome Westerner was proved true. The little cavalcade of three met the dust-begrimed troops just at the foot of the moun- tain slope, and while the men filed past at a walk, the lieu- ee in command halted to pass the time of day with Lillie. “You're too late for the fair, lieutenant,” said the famous bowie man, laughing. “I suppose so. Major Pringle hogged it all, I fancy. We haven’t seen a sign of a red since your young side partner, Little Cayuse, came with Buffalo Bill’s message.” “Well, Major Pringle didn’t make much by his forced gallop, either,” responded Lillie. “Although he arrived in — time to help throw the fear of death into the red scamps.” Then he saw that the young and good-looking lieutenant was eying the lady with favor, and added good-naturedly: “Miss Gregory, let me present my friend Lieutenant Habberton, of Major Pringle’s command. Miss Anna Gregory, lieutenant, has had a terrible experience during these. past four days. She was traveling with her relatives toward Lone Tree Gap. While the wagon train was parked for the night, some miles back—— You doubtless saw. the place?” “I did,” said the officer, bowing gravely and with a com- miserating look for the young girl. “Well, you see what happened. This band of Ute braves, under Flying Feather, came down on them, killed every man and woman saving Miss Gregory, and bore her away captive.” “A terrible experience, indeed, Miss Gregory,” mur- mured the lieutenant. Then he added to Lillie: “And fortunate for her, major, that Buffalo Bill and you were due to travel this same trail a few hours later.” “Yes. We fortunately came upon the spot in time to follow, and, with the help of old Grizzly Dan, the half- mad hermit who lives hereabout, our party overtook the reds and rescued Miss Gregory. “The Utes might have given us & hot time had not Major Pringle and his advance happened along as they did. Flying Feather and many of his braves escaped; but Buffalo Bill and the rest of his scouts will soon track them down, and your boys in blue will awe them aplenty,” chuckled the bowie man. “All right, Major Lillie. I hope we'll see a little active service. We're all getting rusty.” “Qn-she-ma-da!” ejaculated Lillie. “God ’fend us from trouble! We want no Indian war—especially in this coun-: try where new settlers are piling in every week. As old Grizzly Dan says, i together.” the neighbors are getting too close 2 a NEW BUFFALO The feaieaaek laughed, took off his ‘a to Miss Gregory, and galloped away after his troop. “Dot is de vay all of dem sochers look on idt, ” said the baron philosophically, ‘Idt vos de vay I looged adt idt meinselluf yedt, yen vonce I vos a officer in Chairmany. Ve vos for fideing; efferyt’ing else vas nix.’ “And now you know better, baron?” suggested Pawnee Bill. “Undt now I , know dot de most ‘pootiful ting in de vorldt iss peace,” “On-she-ma-da ! : Se “Dot iss de trut’,.. Mit me, goot beer undt. blenty to ‘smoke undt enough to eadt yet, tindt mooch sleebs—ach, himmelblitzen, vot else iss dere in life like dot?” Even the young woman was induced to smile at this . statement of a man who was almost always on the go and who was ready for a fight whenever the chance presented itself, The trio fell into a behind, Pawnee Bill and the girl riding side by side. the Western man, with interest: “You have failed to tell me yet, Miss Gregory, just how you came to be:traveling here—you and your unfortunate friends—and whom you expect to meet at Lone Tree Gap camp.. I believe you explained it all to my partner, Buffalo Bill; but Cody-and-I had no chance to swap yarns this morning before we came away from the summit.of Sande- man Pass, where we were so fortunate as to rescue you - from Flying Feather,” “And that rescue was of your planning and. execution, _ Major Lillie, ” said the girl gratefully. ‘Colonel Cody told time sO es “Cody is a great fellow for shirking responsibility when he believes ‘that anybody is going to hand him a. bunch of gratitude,” chuckled Pawnee Bill, “But you take it from me, Miss Gregory, my old necarnis is at as guilty as I am in this matter—every whit !” She laughed again, although her counteoaae. at once al unt saddened as she continued her speech: _ “You plainsmen are wonderful. And not the least won- derful thing about you is your: chivalry. But I will tell you my story, Major Lillie—though you must forgive a poor, weak girl, doubly orphaned, if she displays an emo- at that you stern and courageous men would succeed in 1ding. “Oh, I am so afraid of these horrid Indians! P” she cried suddenly. i They have brought me all the trouble I ever had in my. life.” “Then you've: been mighty fortunate, Miss Gregory,” said Pawnee, with some little drawl in his voice and.a “sidewise look at her. “Most folks get to have a good deal of trouble before they're even your age.’ “But you don’t understand,” she said;.more quietly. Se . did not begin just—just recently. This awful thing that ~ happened ‘on the trail—I can’t speak of- it!” .. “Then: never mind it, miss,’ said Pawnee Bill: soothingly, POh FT can talk of the other—the beginning,” she -has- ‘tened to reply. “And yet it:was the greater trouble. My father and mother were -killed by Indians, probably not two hundred miles from: this same spot, when I was a little child of five of six.’ “On-she-ma-da!”’’ cfoculaied the bowie man under. his breath. Then-he added: rand you escaped twice,’ then, from the redskins?” a I had never seen an Indian anil we cresned the atte,” “By the sacred Soa ha!” paelaiied Lillie. tify me, Miss Gregory.” aT. will explain: My father and mother left me in care of relatives when I was five years old or so, while: they came into this great Western country to seek: a home. They were bound for this new territory. “A year and a half later the news came back that the emigrant train that my parents traveled with had been entirely wiped out—every man, woman, and child was ‘killed by the Indians, and my parents’ mutilated bodies s filled unmarked graves somewhere around here.” “A strange coincidence, Miss Cresory,” one Paw- nee Bill. ‘No, it is ‘not strange, ‘sir. Cithiniseances caitie about quite naturally that ‘my foster parents—the a eor yee 47? canter again, the mule and the baron Said o ou mys- BILL WEEKLY, ae come out this way, too. My father left a deed of trust of his old farm with a man in whom he probably had confidence—Mr. Jubal Wakeman. Mr.’ Wakeman came West some five years ago. He was, “as Jon, night say, my guardian. “Lately the old farm proved valuable. Bigestoric ‘was found on jit, and a company offered to buy, and did buy, of Mr. ‘Wakeman, the price being forty thousand: dollars. “Mr. Wakeman still had the handling of my property, and as he was then investing in mines, he invested my forty thousand. dollars with his own. I understand he pee the Three Finger Mine at Lone ree Gap—and some others.” ’ ) ~ "The Three Finger!” repeated Pawnee Biil, creased interest. “Yes, The Giasoare decided to come West, and they’ brought me with them, that my guardian might give an with in- _accounting of his stewardship and that I might have full _use of my property.” “I see,” said Pawnee Bill quietly. “Of course this Mr. ee Wakeman knew that you were coming to Lone Tree ap? “Indeed, yes! He wrote ts and told us how to get here, We received two letters from him by pony express on the. way. He will be looking for us now, for he could figure to almost a day when we would arrive at Lone Tree Gap.” “L see, I see,* muttered Pawnee Bill. ‘Later he allowed the girl to ride on a bit by herself, The baron was swelling with curiosity, for he had overheard most of the conversation between Lillie and the girl. “For Heafen’s sake, Bawnee, vot iss idt yedt?” he de- ‘manded. “I kin see mit von eye dot you iss droubled deebly py vot dot young laty toldt you alretty.. Vos iss?” “Why, Vil tell you,” whispered Pawnee Bill slowly. “I was at Lone Tree Gap myself a month ago when Cody sent to me to join in this raid against the renegade Utes. And. while I was at the camp I learned a good deal about this Jubal Wakeman and his Three Finger properties.” “Mein shiminy grasciousness !” spluttered the baron. “Dond’t dell me dot de feller iss meppeso a ‘scounderel, undt iss cheating de young laty oudt’ of her money ‘yedt !” “I don't know about that,” said Pawtee, in the same worried tone. “But I do know that the Three Finger Mine is chock-full of water, and it is said by experts that the water couldn’t .be pumped out in a dog’s age.’ “Ach, himmelblitzen !” gasped the baron. “De poor, poor young laty!. Den her moneys iss fery likely under dot water yedt, aind’t it?” “That’s the way it looks from here,” grunted ‘the bowie man, riding on after Miss Gregory again. ~ CHAPTER IL --JuBAL WAKEMAN, Having good mounts under them, the trio- pala camp but one night between Sandeman Pass and Lone Tree Gap. The mining town that had sprung up in the wide gulch through the range was:a sprawling settlement with a few good plank houses, but more log cabins and tents. It was not a beautiful place, although the landscape sur- rounding it was grand indéed—rugged peaks, thick,’ black- green forests, a noisy waterfall; and the ‘more distant view of ‘blue valleys and the broad, silvery river.’ There: was the usual hotel, saloon, and donee hall com- bined—several of that type, in fact, for Lone Tree Camp was a thriving place, and every inch of. ditt worth- “pros- pecting was taken up around the settlement.. Some of the mines were paying well, too, and stamping mills and other expensive machinery had been carted ovér the trail and set up. It was easy enough to ship out the gold. Pawnee Bill would ‘not take’ Miss Gregory to any of these hotels. He went to the postmaster, found out where a decent married pair resided, and got the woman—who was a good soul—to take the doubly orphaned girl under her care. “This will be a good deal wiser than going at once to your guardian's shack, Jubal Wakeman, I understand, is unmarried, and these bachelor miners mever have amy spare room for visitors,” and the bowie man laughed. °° - “But I want to séé him at once,’ Seed mage Gregory earnestly, 2 NEW BUPPALO “T’ll have him here in an hour—if he’s in camp,” pro- tested Pawnee Bill, and he went off in a hurry before she could make any other objections. It was not hard to find Mr. Jubal Wakeman. The Three Finger Mine was not a stone’s cast from the edge of the town, and a weather-stained board on two pine poles an- nounced the name and size of the property to all who could read. _ The manager and supposedly chief owner of the mine lived in a shack on the property—and he was at home. When Pawnee Bill announced his presence by thumping on the oe a most serious voice called to him to “Lift the lateh?’ And it was a most serious-looking man inside. Indeed he was a lachrymose-looking man—a pasty-faced fellow in the forties, with lank black hair, a drooping string of a black mustache like the tail of a decrepit crow, and a watery blue eye with the expression of a dying fish in it! “Mr. Wakeman?’ demanded Major Lillie. “The same. You see an anxious man before you, sir. fou have come with bad news for me?” “On-she-ma-da!” ejaculated Pawnee Bill. looking for bad news?” : “Tt has been about all the news I have had of late,” sighed the sorrowful-looking Mr. Wakeman. “Then you are going to have a happy surprise,” grunted Pawnee Bill. “I’ve got good news for you.” “What’s that?” exclaimed Wakeman, evidently startled. “Vou don’t mean—— Pshaw! Of course you don’t!” he added, sliding back into his chair again. “I’m afraid you are joking with me, Major Lillie.” “Uh-huh!” muttered the bowie man. me, do you?” he asked aloud. “T have seen you in the town before.” Ah ss , “IT know, too, that you went to join this party of soldiers that was to. punish the Utes for their raiding.” “Humph !” “But, you see, the attempt was too late,” shaking his head. ore that?” snapped Pawnee Bill, his eyes growing wider. ; “The filthy redskins had committed one more atrocity ere your troopers got after them—an atrocity that touches me nearly.” With great difficulty the bowie man stifled his excite- ment and surprise. When he spoke again it was in quite a natural tone: “Vou refer to the attack upon the wagon train the other day on the Lone Tree Gap Trail?” “Ves, Major Lillie, I do. I lost, by that terrible crime, old friends whom I valued highly—highly, sir! You do not have to tell me of it.” “But I have good news for you, just the same,” said Pawnee Bill, rather doggedly, and deeply puzzled. “Indeed!” _ “The young woman, Miss Anna Gregory, who [ under- stand has been under your guardianship for years, was saved from the reds, and J have brought her to town.” “So I understand,’ said Jubal Wakeman coolly. ‘And, although I am glad indeed that Anna was saved, it does not alter the fact that I have lost the Gregorys them- selves, who were true and tried friends of mine.” “Well, the girl’s all right,” said Pawnee Bill briskly. “She is in the care of Mrs. Turnbull, and she wants to see you mucho pronto,” “Well, I will go to her,” said Wakeman, rising slowly. oe can bring her nothing but bad news, either. It is sad, “Shades of Unk-tee-hee!” cried the exasperated bowie man. “What’s the matter now? Here's your ward come clear across the continent to see you-—’ “Not my ward. I merely had charge of her financial affairs,” sighed Wakeman. “Well?” “And I may as well tell you, Major Lillie, that every- thing has gone wrong.” “With you?” asked the other sharply. “With everything.” “Yeu mean?” “Are you “Then you know said Wakeman, BILL WEEKLY. : 8 “The Three Finger mining properties—the finest out- look for gold in this camp—aré not worth ten cents.” “What do you mean?” “Water,” said Jubal Wakeman, shaking his head. “Noth- ing but water. We have tapped an inexhaustible under- ground reservoir. I don’t know where it is tapped. If! sent down a diver in a submarine suit he couldn’t find it. It leeches through from some vein, or lake of water, and the supply is inexhaustible. The tunnels are filled. We have pumped four months steadily, and finally I have shut down in despair. The expensive machinery is like so much scrap iron. Our money is sunk—irrecoverably sunk—in an ocean of fresh water!” The man fairly groaned out these words, and, true of not, his appearance seemed to stamp the mark of truth upon them. “But Miss Gregory's money!” cried Pawnee Bill. “That’s it,’ groaned Wakeman, nodding. “Vou had invested it with vour own in the mine?” “Every penny of it. I put in sixty thousand myself; her forty thousand bought the last of the machinery. We were running in full blast, and had just made our first assay—a very rich one—when the water burst in on us.” “On-she-ma-da!” muttered Pawnee Bill, turning away. “So, you see, Major Lillie, you did bring me bad news,” almost sobbed Jubal Wakeman, / “Humph !” “I have now to go before Anna and add to her sorrows by informing her that she is a pauper.” “An-pe-tu-we !” “Tt is a task I do not face with joy. Perhaps it would have been better for her, poor girl, if the redskins had killed her with the Gregorys. An awful thought, Major Lillie, but it occurs to me,” sniffled Wakeman. “I see your mind rather runs to gruesome ideas,” mut- tered. the bowie man. “And there is reason for it,’ sighed Jubal Wakeman. “I see the results of twenty years of endeavor swept away. Likewise I have lost the money intrusted to me by friends and others; and the forty thousand belonging to Anna—it is dreadful, dreadful!” ° ‘It sure seems tough,” admitted Pawnee Bill, looking at the man askance, as they went out of the shack. “Let me show you,’ Wakeman said, leading the way to the nearest shaft in the mountainside. There was a house over it—an open shed, at least, which protected from the weather the machinery which the min- ing man declared was now useless. There was an engine and a huge hydraulic pump. A sluice had been built, lead-— ing the water pumped from the flooded mine into the noisy river which had cut its channel down from the heights above and fell away swiftly to the lower valley to the east. Wakeman dropped a stone down the shaft. and Pawnee Bill heard the splash of it as it struck the water. The mining man lit a lantern and lowered it down; the visitor could see the glint of the black flood not thirty feet below the surface. “Tt keeps at just about that level. I have proved it is sufficiently high to flood every cutting and tunnel below. And no amount of pumping lowers the water a foot.” “Tough luck,” murmured Pawnee Bill again. Jubal Wakeman sighed once more, blew out the lantern, and then started for the town.: : “Now I will gorand find the poor girl,” he said mourn- fully. “Let me thank you, Major Lillie, for all you have done for her. Mrs. Turnbull is an estimable woman.” Pawnee dropped behind when he came to the principal hotel. There the baron had put up Toofer, the mule, and the major’s horse, and was now sitting on the porch calmly smoking his big porcelain pipe. “Well, old leaky sieve!’ was Pawnee’s welcome to the German. “Vot iss?” demanded-the baron, his eyes opening wider than usual, if that were possible. “Do. you make me ein insuld, Bawnee?” ee “Well, you can’t keep anything to yourself, can you?” exclaimed. Pawhee. “Vah! Deré iss von ting dot I haf nefer yedt toldt any vone,” declared the baron, his’ face very red. “And what is that?” fo _ NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. _ “Mein brivate undt berticular opinion off you, Bawnee Pill!’ shouted the baron, forgetting to smoke in his fury. “Now! Vill you gome here mit insuldts——’ “Hold on!” exclaimed Pawnee, grinning, as. the joke had gone against him. “Didn’t I warn you to keep still about the massacre and Indian uprising?” “Su-ah !” “I didn’t even tell those Turnbulls how Miss Gregory came to be traveling with us alone.’ “Valee” “And nobody whom I spoke to in this town—not even — the postmaster—had heard of the attack on the wagon train.” “Vale?” again repeated the angry baron. “Yet I find that Jubal Wakeman knew all about it, While I was getting a place for the girl to stop, the news reached him. Now, who is a leaky sieve?” demanded the bowie man, in some excitement, “Nodt me,” replied the baron, calming himself, “What !” ‘“Himmelblitzen! Must I dell you again alretty? No! no! no!” shouted the baron. “You spoke to nobody about it?” “Nein!” “And nobody spoke to you about it?” “Nein !” Pawnee Bill smote one gauntleted hand upon his thich and stared straight at the honest face of his German friend. “Then will you tell me how the dickens that Wakeman knew all about the Indian masacre?” he demanded, but in a tone that showed he was asking the question of himself, CHAPTER IIT. “BARTICULAR TEUFELMENT.” But the Baron Villum von Schnitzenhauser heard the question, and he could not be expected, under the circum- stances, to keep silent. ce “De only man vot knowed the Inchuns hadt killedt dot poor young laty’s friendts undt stolen her avay vos dis Vakeman vot you call him?” he spluttered. “That's the fact,’ growled Pawnee Bill, but deep in thought. “Undt I nefer spoke of idt—undt you nefer spoke of idt—undt de laty herselluf, she nefer spoke of idt?” “You've got it,” again said the perplexed major. “Yedt de Vakeman feller he iss knowin’ dot all dot hadt happened—yah ?”’ For a third time Pawnee Bill acknowledged the correct- ness of the baron’s statement. “Den, Bawnee,” cried the baron, with great excitement, “you dake idt from me dot idt means dere vos some bar- ticular teufelment afoodt yedt! “Particular devilment, ch?” murmured the bowie man. “Dot iss idt, yes!” “And I fancy you've hit it right,’ said the other, with sudden decision. “I don’t like to judge a man by his looks; we all can’t be handsome like—er—well, you, for instance, baron,” And Pawnee Bill grinned. “Vale, dere is vorses-lookin’ fellers dan me, py shim- iniddy grasciousness!” declared the baron. u “I know; but lots of them have been shot out here in this country. Never mind. We're talking about this Jubal Wakeman.” “Yaw! Undt vot of him?” inquired the baron. “He looks like a sanctimonious coyote, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw an elephant.” “Ach, himmelblitzen! How far do you ogspect you ‘gould fling an efelant, Bawnee?” asked the baron seri- ously. “About the length of a flea’s big toe,” replied the bowie “man seriously. “Ach! Now idt iss funny pitzness again——~” i “Never mind. You have said one good thing,” said - Pawnee Bill quickly. “There is surely particular devilment afoot. And that Jubal Wakeman is up to his ears in it.” » “Undt de poofiful young laty vot ve haf safed de Inchuns from iss likevise in idt?” . “Unfortunately, yes.” ( : “Vot vould pe de matter mit shooding up dot Vakeman a isk ?” suggested the baron, whose ideas were most prac- tical. ' “It wouldn’t do much good, I am afraid,” returned Paw- nee Bill, grinning. “Undt meppeso idt vouldt,” grunted the German. “Idt vouldt pe like crunchin’ a doodle pug under your foots yedt—you get rid of de pug, yes?” “Your philosophy is all right,” chuckled Pawnee Bill, “but I am afraid that with this Jubal Wakeman sent to the happy hunting grounds we'd never get at the knotted end of the rope.” “Meaning dat dere iss a mysderiousness, undt dot de Vakeman feller can oxblanation idt?” : “That’s it. He’s got—or he had—forty thousand dollars belonging to Miss Gregory. He says it was spent, along with his own money and that of other stockholders, in opening and working the Three Finger Mines, and in buy- ing machinery.” “Undt you tink he iss a liar yedt?” “I don’t know. As I say, his face is much against him. And some other things are queer.” “I ped you!” exclaimed the baron. ‘How didt he know erboudt der Inchun raid, heh?” “Exactly.” “Undt now his mine iss full mit vasser, yes?” “That's it. It has been filled for four months. of it when I was here at the Gap before.” “Vale? it de fordy t’ousan’ tollars iss down de vasser I heard “ander-—— “Hang it! That's part of the mystery,’ grunted Pawnee Bill. “I know one thing, baron.” {Valeri “I wish Cody was here. There is a thing I am-anxious to know about—one that he may be able to explain.” “Undt dot iss a mysderiousness, too?” “You might say so.” “Den dere iss von t'ing to do,” said the baron, with deci- sion, rising phlegmatically to his feet and putting away the big pipe. : “Hello! What's that?” asked Pawnee Bill, with surprise. “Tf ve needt Puffalo Pill to hellip us discover dose mys- teriousnesses, den de t'ing for to be did idt iss to go after him undt pring him here.” “On-she-ma-da! You've got a head on your shoulders,” chuckled Pawnee. Bill. “So dot iss idt?” returned the baron calmly. “TI vould haf peen villings to svear dot I hadt a headt pefore, Bawnee.” “And it’s a great old head, baron!” cried the bowie man, coming to a sudden decision himself. “If you'll tackle the job of trying to find Cody over yon behind the moun-' tains ‘: “Dot is choost vot me undt Toofer vill do,” declared the baron calmly. “Undt meanvile you vill stay here undt vatch out for de pootiful young laty—aind’t idt?” “You're on!” cried Pawnee Bill. “Toofer iss feedidt; I am feedidt meinselluf——” “Already?” : “I hobe you vill oxcoose me, Bawnee,” said the baron, in some confusion. “I know dot idt- vos an imboliteness on mein bart; budt I didt not know ven you vouldt pe tetty vor eatings, undt idt iss. petter to dake time py der forelock yedt—esbecially ven idt gomes’to be’ bleasures of de dable also-o! Undt de bresent cirgumstandces broves de trut’ of idt yedt.. I vill bedake me at vonce to de sattle.” “On-she-ma-da! I hadn’t thought to eat,” chuckled Paw- nee Bill. “But trust you to remember the important mat- ters, baron.” “Ovite right,” agreed the German, starting for the corral. “I will pe retty for the roadt in den minutes yedt.” Pawnee Bill had decided quickly that the baron’s sug- gestion was good. There was a mystery indeed about the affairs of Jubal Wakeman and his pretty ward; But that was not all the trouble. There was another and a deeper reason for the bowie man’s agreeing to send for Buffalo Bill. : He knew, and the baron knew, the general direction which the soldiers and Buffalo Bill’s scouts would take in the yalleys beyond the range. By this time the Utes ‘NEW BUFFALO had probably been chased into their villages and warned in proper manner against future raids. The soldiers would stick around a few days, that soe Indians might feel the iron hand of the government, and when Buffalo Bill reported to Major Pringle that the Utes were fairly well pacified, the matter would be officially over. The soldiers would return to Fort Prevost with their captives, and Buffalo Bill and his companions—old Nomad, Wild Bill, and Little Cayuse, the Piute scout—would be free for the present from army orders. Therefore, by the time the baron found Buffalo Bill, the great scout would undoubtedly be able to return at - once with the German pard to Lone Tree Gap. And at Lone Tree Gap Buffalo Bill was needed; fact, to Major Lillie’s mind, was self-evident, this ie ye CHAPTER IV. PAWNEE BILL ON GUARD. The baron rode out before long into the single street of Lone Tree Gap and headed Toofer, the mule, toward the west. The fact that he was starting off alone into a country more or less strange to him, and possibly infested with Utes on the warpath, did not seem to trouble the baron in the least. “Keep your eyes peeled, baron,” advised Pawnee Bill. “You know there may be snakes in the grass.’ “T am avare of dot,’ agreed the baron. “Dot red schnakes dond’t scare me. Dere is a pigger schnake in de gr-rass right here in de Gap yedt!” “Meaning this Jubal Wakeman? On-she-ma-da! you're just right,” rejoined the bowie man. The baron loped away on the mule and the handsome plainsman entered the hotel. He found the keeper of the ranch—a long, loose, lantern-jawed fellow—not at all averse to gossip at this time of day. The place was never lively save at night, or on holidays and Sundays. “Jube Wakeman? Gosh, ain’t he the onluckiest feller thet ever come inter this .eck o’ woods?” cried the hotel man. “‘And one spell we thought him the luckiest.’ “How was that?” asked Pawnee Bill. “Why, say! Accordin’ ter all accounts, them Three Finger claims was as rich as th’ dirt twixt th’ planks in ~ th’ floor of the assay office—that’s right! He showed us a clean-up thet’ d make yer mouth water. An’ then— good mornin’! Th’ flood cleaned him up in fancy style.” “Were the other claims hurt?” “Not a mite.” “The Three Finger was the only property injured?” “Clean aut o’ business! It come overnight, as ye might Say.” “As quick as that?” “Jest so, stranger.” “He had no warning? The water came in and engulfed his workings suddenly?” Gosh, yes! Thet was jest it, stranger.’ “And he really has tried to pump it out?” asked Paw- nee Bill. p “Tried to? Shucks! Ef Jube Wakeman had tried ha’f as hard ter make a new heaven an’ airth as he has ter pump thet thar claim dry, he’d run th’ Creator a mighty close second—now you take it from me!” declared the hotel keeper with earnestness. “And nobody seems to know where the water comes from ?” “Aw, shucks! “You do?” “Sartain sure.” “Where?” “From th’ bowels of th ’airth, ter be sure!” guffawed the hotel man. “Springs, then ?” “Biggest springs I ever hearn. teil of,” grunted the man, “It’s a river—that’s wot she’s tapped |” Pawnee Bill started suddenly and gazed searchingly at the other. _ “Do you mean is tapped the river yonder?” he asked. “Who's tapped it? “Jubal Wakeman,” In course we know whar it comes from.” ‘BILL WEEKLY. 5 “My. Lord, man! D'ye think he’d be fool enough ter ruin his own mine—fair flood it out? An’ jest after they, made an assay thet looked so rich we was all standin’ eround waterin’ at our mouths ter think how we. hadn’t sells inter the Three Finger when Jube had stock to se “But you say the dood | is from the river “Shucks! Not no river ye kin see. A ee river, ye see——’” “Subterranean, you mean,’ a slight smile. “Mebbe. Leastways, it’s one under the airth.” “But that would not be possible way up here in the mountains,” “Why not?” “At least, I never heard of such a case before, Pawnee Bill. “Waal, ye hear of this one, stranger—an’ I’m a-tellin’ ye of it.” “Oh, I don’t doubt your word.” “Nor don’t ye doubt me hoss sense,” shaking his head. ~ “You couldn’t be fooled on such a proposition ?” “Not me. I know that the supply of that water is ever- lastin’. It’s riz ter its level in the mine, the mine’s com-~ plete flooded out, and Jube says himself ‘the Three Finger ain't worth a tinker’s dam’ !” “Has he tried to sell out?” “My Lord! Who'd he sell out to around here? Don’t we know all about it?” “But back East they say that suckers are born every once in a while—suckers that will invest in almost any hole in the ground that is called a mine.’ And Pawnee Bill chuckled. “T believe Jube is too blamed honest,” confided the hotel man to the visitor, shaking his head sadly. “He seems all cut up because he got other folks inter the deal.” “Because he sold them the stock in the mine?” “Yep. And the hull contraption don’t look like 1 “was wuth ten cents,’ added the man. “But there’s the machinery: “It cost like kill-dee ter bring it in by freight waggins,” declared the hotel man quickly, “and every other mine in the neighborhood has got all the scrap iron it wants— an’ thar ain’t likely another square foot of gold-bearing rock within a hundred—yes, mebbe three hundred mile!’ “Then he really is up against it—the claim has petered out——” “The water's flooded it out,” interrupted the hotel man. “But thet’s just as bad, if not wuss. If ye could git out gold-bearin’ quartz in submarine armor, ye might do some- thin’ with the Three Finger property. ‘Otherwise—not !” “And what does he calculate to do with the mine?” ’ corrected Pawnee Bill, with ” objected said the hotel man, = ‘asked Pawnee Bill curiously. “lm shot if I know! Let it lie, I reckon. He spent mighty near every last cent he had keepin’ the pumps going to try arid git out th’ water. Might as well try ter stop a widder woman from tellin’ her troubles! Gosh!’ “And he just mopes around here?’ . “Say, he’s gittin’ : little cracked on it, I bilieve. Or mebbe is fool enough ter think thar’s other gold-bearin’ rock in this range. But you take it from me—thar ain't!” “There is no more gold save what is here at the Gap?” . “Now you've got it. I prospected myself through this tange for ten years. Gosh, I oughter know, stranger!” "You certainly should be a. good judge of the richness of the country,” admitted Pawnee. “And its poverty, ye might say. I tell Jube so, but he keeps goin’ off by hisselfi—days at er time——” “Ah! Then he doesn’t stay up there at the mine all the time?” “What's the use of his stayin’ theré? He’s likely ter — weep more water inter thet thar shaft than he kin pump out.” “And he. goes off on jaunts by himself?” “Gittin’ cracked, I tell ye,’ "said the hotel man, shaking his head. “Wonder them ravenin’ Utes don’t git him——~’ “On-she-ma-da !” ejaculated Pawnee. Bill suddenly. “You're jest right!” “And they say the reds is permiscussin’ eround on the . warpath, at that,” NEW “They have cut up rusty a heap.” “So I heard. ’Twarn’t no longer ago than last week - I warned Jube.” “Warned him?” “Yep. I see him settin’ out for the west kentry.” “Over toward the Ute villages?” “Shucks! He wouldn’t go so fur. But some o’. them bands of young bucks might be cavortin’ over this yere way.” “T see,” said Pawnee Bill eagerly. that way?” “Veo. [says to him: ‘Jube; th’ red skunks will att ye. But would he listen? Not he!” “This was only. last week?” asked the bowie man thoughtfully. “That’s when it war, stranger, and he didn’t git back till come yisterday.” Pawnee Bill soon went out of the place, that he might be alone and think. The mystery of Jubal Wakeman and the Three Finger Mine was growing. The man whose mine was full of water made frequent trips into the hills. And he had been away from the Gap at the time the Utes under Flying Feather made their -atrocious attack on the wagon train with which Anna Gregory had traveled, and likewise when Buffalo Bill and his partners had chased the said redskins and wrested the a prisoner from their bloody clutches! 9) “And he was going CHAPTER V. PAWNEE BILL TAKES PRECAUTIONS. Pawnee Bill. went down that evening to the Turnbull house to see Miss Gregory. He found her as calm as she had been that morning when he left her in the care of good Mrs. Turnbull, and at first the bowie man thought that Jubal Wakeman had not told his ward of the loss of her fortune. But Anna broached the subject herself: | “Major Lillie, I believe you feared that something had happened to the Three Finger Mine arid my fortune when we were talking of my affairs on the trail.” “Well, _niss, I was afraid your matters were tangled up for you,’ > admitted the handsome plainsman. > “Vangled up! Why, there's nothing left to get tangled. The money is swept away.’ “Why—er—is it as bad as that?” “Vou talked with Mr. Wakeman yourself, didn’t your” “Yes,”. admitted Pawnee. “And he certainly told you the worst. ie always has been a bird of ill omen.’ “On-she-ma-da!. He is just that.” “He would look on the dark side of a silver dollar, that man would!” oe Mother Turnbull, who was present . at this interview. “And does he give you no hope at all?” Bill. ’ “No hope about recovering the money, do you mean? None at all,” said Anna. “That's mighty hard, miss.’ v's not so bad as (ane my dear foster father and mother,” said the girl, wiping her eyes. Pawnee had nothing to say to that. She continued: “Nor is it'as bad as losing my own life. If the Indians had killed me, the money would never have done me any good. I hadn’t been rich long enough for the loss of forty thousand dollars to make me very miserable.” “On-she-ma-da!” murmured the bowie man. “And I have found friends right here,” said the girl, smiling and taking Mother Turnbull’ s hard hand in both her own. “Mrs. Turnbull is opening the Old Homestead Restaurant next week, and I am going to help her.” “She'll sure make one mighty fine biscuit shooter, Mr. Pawnee Bill,” said the woman, laughing, “and I’m mighty tod to have her. Neither me nor my man could keep Babies straight, and she'll do that after helping wait on dhe: Boys.” “But doesn’t Wakeman hold out any hope of getting the mine going again?” repeated the bowie man. “Not an iota. The mine is flooded almost to the top of the shaft. Wakenian asked Pawnee It’s reached its level, but he can’t lower it. BUPPALO: BILL WEERLY,. He says he has tried for four months. And now the money has given out.” “I see he seems to be living without hurting himself with work,’ grumbled Pawnee Bill; but neither of the ladies heard this, and soon after Pawnee Bill excused himself and got away. To tell the truth, the plainsman was mad—mad clear through that such a nice, refined girl as Anna Gregory, and one who had already passed through so great a trouble, should be thrown upon her own resources in a strange place and made to earn her bread in so humble a position. One day to be worth forty thousand dollars—the next to be a pauper! “By my sacred O-zu-ha!” muttered Pawnee Bill. “This is no fair deal. I am suspicious of Jubal Wakeman, as well as of his mines. He isn’t begging his bread! Why should this girl be in such straits?” 7 He walked up the settlement street, refusing all the enticements of the now brilliantly lighted places of enter- tainment. It was darker than a stack of black cats beyond the line of the town, but he knew the direction of Wake- man’s shack and the Three Fi inger properties pretty accu- rately. He stumbled over a plank as he approached the door. The shutter at the window was tight closed; but light . peered out of a small knot hole and he heard a scrambie of feet inside as though he had startled somebody by his approach. Pawnee, striking while the iron was hot, rapped on the door and lifted the latch before he was asked in. When the door swung back, however, Wakeman seemed to be alone in the room, though Pawnee kept a hand on one of the gold- mounted bowie knives he carried until he was sure that the way was clear for him to enter, “Hullo! What’s this at such a time of night?” began Jubal Wakeman. “What! Is it Major Lillie? And again? “That’s who it is,” said Pawnee gruffly, closing the door behind him and eying the miner with all the favor of a bulldog watching a cat out’ of his short-legged reach. “Not with more ‘bad news, I hope,” complained Wake- man. “T don’t know how you'll take it,” grunted Pawnee. “But I’m going to hop into your business a whole lot, and mebbe that will appear bad news to you.” “What do you mean, Major Lillie?” demanded Wake- man, with a sudden stiffening of his whole frame. “And not only your business,” pursued Pawnee, “but that girl’s affairs.” “You refer to Miss Gregory?” "That's the party.” “And what is she to you?” and there was a snarl in Wakeman’s voice that brought Pawnee’s fingers in totch with the handle of his bowie again. Perhaps Wakeman saw the expressive gesture, for he ‘hastened to add: “Just a feeling of friendliness, I suppose?” “You suppose exactly right,” admitted Pawnee “What do you want? I have shown you the mine and its condition. Everybody i in the Gap knows about it——” “So I understand,’ Pawnee interrupted. “That isn’t the point. A mere verbal statement of the thing is not going _ to satisfy me.’ “So you constitute yourself a committee of one to look - into my affairs?” cried Wakeman, and his pasty face looked ugly enough. “I’m looking into Miss Gregory’s affairs,” said the hand- some plainsman doggedly. “Does she request it?” “That doesn’t concern you,’ snapped Pawnee. “You have made statements that may be so or may not be; so “Great heavens, man! Don’t you know water when you see it?” gasped Wakeman. “Oh, I admit that your mine is full of water.” “Then what?” “The thing that Miss Gregory must know is how you came to spend all her money in the fittings of the mine. Come! The law has 2 hold on you, you know, Wakeman.” “Blast you!” ejaculated the miner. “You don’t represent the law in this case, I suppose?” NEW BUFFALO “I may represent angle opinion; and public opinion, ina place like Lone Tree Gap, stands for all the law there is—and is often more just than the statutes on the books, You catch my drift?” “VYotr are threatening me!” complained Wakerian, tak- ing another way with his visitor very quickly. “TI just want to know a few things, Wakeman.” “And what are they, Major Lillie ?” “You had all this money—this forty thousand dollars?” “And much more. Sixty thousand of my own, As much again belonging to stockholders hack East.” “And what,explanation are you making to them?” “The other’ stockholders? I tell you the truth, major! I haven’t dared write them.’ And Jubal Wakeman looked just as though he were to burst into tears. “And all this money went in buying, opening up, and working the mine, and paying for the machinery?” “That's the way it went, major.” “Then, of course, you can show your books, vouchers, bills, and ail that, proving such expenditures?” Wakeman scowled at him. “You don’t suppose Pm a perfect fool, do you, Major Lillie? Of course I have everything straight.” “Don’t get huffy, old man. le going into this. I don’t want to see this little girl left a pauper in such a way. You don’t seem to be suffering any.” “What do you mean?” snarled Wakeman. “You seem to have plenty of money to live on. You're not suffering. You are practically idle here. I under- ~ stand that you spend your time riding about the country. On-she-ma- -da! Man alive, don’t you see that you are arousing the suspicions of the girl’s friends-——” ‘ _..“Who are those friends, major?’ sneered Wakeman, standing up, his hands clenched, and his face a map of ‘scowls, “I’m one of them.” “T see you are. And it looks funny to me-—” ' He halted in his speech with a gasp. Pawnee Bill’s eyes blazed into his own and the plainsman’s hand was again on the big bowie knife at his belt. “Don’t let it seem so funny to you that you have to laugh!” advised Pawnee Bill pointedly. Wakeman gulped and came up in his usual morose style. _ “T can't help it, Major Lillie,’ he whined. “If you sus- pect te" ““T know that you do not have to work to live, and that ‘ poor girl is going to be a waitress in Turnbull’s hash house. You have got away with forty thousand dollars belonging to her. You admit it. And yet she works and you loaf. That story will make the men of Lone Tree Gap sit up and take notice, and you can bet a blue stack on that! “Tt don’t take no soothsayers to dope out what would happen to you in this man’s town if anybody cared to lay the cards right on the table before the boys. D’ye see? “You've got to make explanation, You've got to show me the whys and wherefores of the whole game, or there'll be some dust raised. Now, mark me, Wakeman, I’m talk- _ing good medicine for you.” ““What can I do?’ cried the miner furiously, but evi- _ dently in fear of Pawnee Bill. “I tell you the money is ‘spent. .It doesn’t cost me much of anything to live-——” “How much money you got?” snapped the plainsman. “TY couldn't put my hands on a hundred dollars,” de- ~ clared Wakeman, “Then, by the shade of Unk-tee- hee !” ejaciilated Paw- nee Bill, “lve an offer to make you.’ “What's that?” demanded Walreman, eying him uncer- tainly. “Tl buy you out.” “Youll what?” ~ “Buy you out.” “How's that?” And this time the question came feebly, while the miner backed into his chair again. « “What do you want for your outht here—lock, stock, and barrel?” demanded Pawnee Bill coolly. “What do you want to buy?” asked Wakeman in a whisper. 4 “AL you've ‘got to sell... Your equity in the mine, the whole thing—the entire shooting match. If you are not ‘too steep I'll put a bunch of oa, in your hands that you .a figure that interested him. ees 7 can turn over to the girl in part settlement of her claim against you. I'll assume the debts. against the property. In ‘fact, I'll gamble on the thing.” Jubal’ Wakeman suddenly leaped up again. His pasty Pepe never gained a bit of color, but his eyes blazed bale- u “What are you after? “Why, you haven’t got money enough to buy—— He stopped and suddenly calmed down. demeanor returned. He shook his head sadly. “I'm too honest, Major Lillie.” ‘I coukane: let you into such a thing with my eyes open.” “On-she-ma-da! Aren’t my eyes open?” cried Pawnee Bill, grinning. “No, I won't sell,” declared Wakeman doggedly “And yet you have no money and the mine is sult of Water ?P” ‘ “T’ve got my reasons,” snarled Wakeman. © “Vou bet you have, Wakeman!” exclaimed the plains- man meaningly. “And before I get through with you: Vil know what those reasons are—you can gamble on that.” And with a laugh the plainsman swung on his heel and went out at the door, He started back toward the town. He had not gone twenty rods from the shack when there was a flash and report in the murk beside the road, and the whistle: of a bullet made him dodge, “The thundering murderer!” yelped Pawnee Bill; and, without paying the least attention to the spot from which the bullet had come, he. wheeled around and darted back to the shack. He halted before opening the door, however, and peered through the knot hole in the shutter. Jubal Wakeman still sat at the table, and it was certain. that-he-could not have got outside, shot at Pawnee, and returned sO quickly. “Ugh! a erunted the plainsman, turning away. “I. thought the had a side partner. An unknown is bad medicine. Come! Mebbeso I’m in for a skinning this time. I wish Cody was here.” As it was, he made his way back to the oe ie avery roundabout way and escaped meeting any other adventure. But, once under cover, he called for ink, pen, and paper and retired to his room, where he wrote out a full and particular account of all these happenings and of his own suspicions, addressed the bulky packet-to Buffalo Bill, and BILL WEEKL Y, Think I’m a fool?” he roared. 2? His previous ‘in the morning went out and deposited the letter with the postmaster of Lone Tree Gap, to be given into Cody’s hands when the great scout should arrive—if by any chance he, Pawnee Bill, should not be on the spot, and in the flesh! CHAPTER VI. THE BLANKET INDIAN, As the plainsman came back from the post office through the sun-baked street of Lone Tree Gap, he suddenly saw It was that of a blanketed Indian; and, although the stripes on the blanket pro- claimed the redskin tobe a Navaho, not Ute, Pawnee Bill hastened his step until he came’ to the side of the savage. The stolid red never gave him a glance—or ‘seemed not to. Yet before Pawnee Bill spoke it was probable that the redskin had observed minutely his appearance and lenew exactly who he was. “Who you lookin’ for,. John?” queried Pawnee care- — essly, getting a cigar out of his Stetson and preparing. to light up. Such as he could see of the redskin'’s countenance looked sullen, and the savage replied: : “Me no John. You no see me b’fore. Wuh!” “Well, what are you doing here, my red friend re- turned Pawnee coolly. “Indian no tell; white man no find out. Wuh!” “Bet you a dollar I do!” returned the plainsman. “Here! oe a smoke?’ and he offered the redskin one of his cig : Wah 1” and the fellow waved away the cigar. “Indian smoke Well ee no smoke stick.” have it your own way,’ * said Pawnee cheerfully. apa you taking a chance coming in here just now?” “Me no ‘fraid. No enemy here. Me Navaho.” “Like thunder you’ are! Ee ejaculated the plainsman, and ee “NEW. BUFFALO with quick hands he patted the blanket-draped figure of the redskin before the latter could really make objection. “You're carrying a sawed-off gun under that blanket, you red scamp,” declared Pawnee Bill, as the Indian drew ‘away from him with an inarticulate snarl. “And you've got other hardware in your belt. You're a Ute, and you are snooping around here for no good. Scoot!” “Wuh! Kulux-Kittybux heap smart white grunted the redskin. “But him not Know it all.’ “On-she-ma-da! I should say not!” chuckled Pawnee Bill, watching the fellow closely. “But I don’t need any dirty Ute to tell me the time o’ day. The Pawnee Indians were some folks; the Utes were their slaves in the old days before the white men came.” ~“Wuh!” grunted the redskin, and now his black, serpent eyes flashed. “The Little Bear of the Pawnees speaks with a forked tongue. It is not so. The Utes were never slaves——” : “What's that to you, Navaho?” chuckled Pawnee Bill. The Indian, caught so easily and simply, expressed his disgust by a quick gesture. : “Joe Skeetik’”—likewise an Indian cognomen for Major Lillie—‘him much serpent: But him look quick—have care!” “And you take my tip and get out of town, Ute. This place would be too hot for you in a minute if I gave the word. »Vamoset”. _~ The Indian grunted and shuffled away, and Pawnee Bill stood for a moment and watched him. He knew that the tedskin was here for evil; he could easily have appre- hended him, armed .as the savage was, and held him for examination by the Indian agent and the commander of Fort Prevost. - ene ; But there was something afoot that the plainsman did not understand. He could not sweat the truth out of the Indian, so he watched. =~ That the Ute might not see that he was being spied upon so closely, Pawnee Bill went into the barroom of the hotel, found a hali-grown boy of the town there, and promised him a dollar if he would follow the Indian and\see where he went, -or if he talked to anybody before leaving town by the western pass. In half an hour the boy returned and told Pawnee that the Indian had begged of several passers-by, and had last spoken. with Jubal Wakeman at his shack near Three Finger Mine. man,” “Did the red go to the shack and rouse Jubal out?” asked . Pawnee. “He certainly did, Major Lillie,” replied the. messenger. “And he didn’t knock at’ any other shack—just spoke to men on the street?” i hat’s right.” “Here's your dollar, son,” replied Pawnee, with satis- faction; “you earned it.” He hurried out on the street again. The Indian had passed out of town. The handsome plainsman strolled up the incline toward the Three Finger properties. Suddenly he saw Jubal Wakeman riding out into the road. The miner glanced down the hill, saw Pawnee Bill, and favored him with a scowl. “Hello! Off’ on his