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DUFFALO BILL

PAWNEE BILES

By the author of

CHAPTER I.
OLD WANDEROO’S WHITE ALLY.

The fiery-eyed man lying in the sagebrush above old
Wanderoo’s Pawnee village was as crafty and daring a

-desperado as the Southwest has ever produced. Yet, with

the exception of the fiery eyes, his face did not show it.

_ And, though his record of crime was long and red, he

was not old.:

~ “Been something doing down there,” he muttered, “since

I kangarooed round these slopes; and the place looks it.”
The lower part of the village had been swept by a flood;

a cloud-burst had sent Trout Creek out of its bounds at

a jump, and indications of its destructive force still re-

- mained in the shape of tangled lodge poles half buried in

a and mud, and the wreckage of Wanderoo’s medicine
lodge.

The upper part of the village, crowning the heights

~ above the stream, had been hit hard by a charge of troop-

ers and Buffalo Bill’s men; yet, as they had destroyed

little, the damage there did not show so much as farther

down.
Still, an Indian village is an ephemeral thing that can

_ be torn down to-day and set up to-morrow, like the tents

of a circus; and some semblance of order, if order can be

_ gonceived of as belonging to an Indian village, had been
reéstablished.

Tepees again shone in the sun, the blue smoke of lodge

fires ascended, a pony herd was grazing by the stream,

and Pawnee warriors and squaws were visible.

+" 1 got here too late,” the concealed man grumbled, as
“Three days ago the Pawnees
were gone from here, and if I’d been here then I’d had a
clear field.”

Digging into his pockets, he brought out a stp of pen-
ciled paper, which he read with eager interest:

- Dear Frienp: ‘The emeralds, worth a hundred thou-

sand dollars, are cached near the boiling spring, on -Trout

Creek, in the Pawnee country. I have a feeling that I’ll

S MERRY WAR:

OR,

PAWNEE PARD.

NBUPPALO) BIEL.”

oa

never be able to go back and get them; it is a dangerous
country, and I am a sick man. So I pass this information
over to you, as my best friend, and I hope it will prove
valuable. BERNARD Brown.

“Some men would say that I’m a fool to write. that
down,” he muttered, “when I’ve got. every word of it in
my head ; but I like to look at it, and it makes the thing
seem more real.”

Putting the paper away, he again stared at the village.

“Them emeralds ain’t in the old medicine lodge, that’s
certain ; I dug up every foot of it when I was there that
night, just before Pawnee Bill sneaked in and captured me, _
So if I could ‘get in, there’d be no sense in digging in it.

“But they might be farther out, beyond the walls of the
medicine lodge, “and I’d like to dig there. But I can’t now,
and | couldn’ t do it even at night, for the Pawnees would:
see ‘ime.’

He was turning over various plans when the sagebrush -
rustled behind him.

He turned, quick as a cat—in time to see a tall Indian
let drive at him with a tomahawk.

The weapon turned in its rush, like a wheel of diamonds,
but it did not get him; he had flounced aside, and it drove
into the sand.

The next instant he was looking over the tube of a re-
volver which bore full on the breast of the redskin, and
brought him up with a jerk of dismay.

“Easy,” drawled the white man, “or I'll drill you!

The Indian recoiled a step, and the hammer of the
revolver began to rise under pressure of the man’s finger.

“Tf- you're courtin’ sudden death, take another step sca
youll get it.”

The Indian, glancing about and seeing that he was
catight, stood still.

“That's better. I’ve got a bad disposition when it’s
riled, and you sure riled it when you flung that hatchet at
me

1”?

The Indian was old, with a thin, wrinkled face, and eyes
as bright and burning as those of the white man. As for

 
 

2 NEW BUFFALO

clothing, it.could have been packed in a hat; for all he
wore was moccasins and breeches of fine buckskin. From
his waist up his body was bare; not even a head feather
showed in his hair, which was thickly st treaked with gray.

“T think I know you,” said the Mealy: “Vow are
old. Wanderoo, liveliest redskin on the Pawnee ranges in
spite of your sixty-odd years. Sit down theré.”

‘The Indian bent his knees with a jerk and sat down.

“That shows you understand English,’ the white’ man
commented. “So I hope we'll get along. Why did you
‘sling the hatchet at me?”

‘He reached round, though he still kept old Wanderoo
covered, and pulled the tomahawk out of the sand.

“Tm going to return this to you,’ he said, “in casé we
come to an ‘understanding and can be friends. Speak up!
You're the medicine man down there?”

The Pawnee bobbed his head in assent.

“You saw me here while I was mooning, and thought
you could get me—but you didn’t! Any warriors back
of yer”

The Indian's head shook a negative this time.

“You're old Wanderoo, big medicine of the Pawnees—
great fire wizard and er and gazabo ; the biggest faker and
liar of the border, yet the noblest Roman of them all.”

Old Wanderoo stared uncomprehendingly. ‘The English
he understood was of the border variety.

“You don’t know me?” said the white man.
_“Wanderoo. no know his white brother.”

OHS: it's that—white brother!’ Yet a minute ago you
tried to hatchet me.’

He bent forward, his burning eyes crafty in their ex-
pression. Yet he did not turn aside the deadly tube of
the revolver with which he had awed the medicine man
into submission.

“Let me tell you something,” he said; “I am the white
man that Buffalo Bill captured here not long ago and car-
ried back to Pagoda Springs. You didn’t see that, because
it was done in the dark, but maybe you have heard: of it.
Iwas thrown into jail and was to be sent off to the big
prison, where I was to be held until I died.

“Do you get that?” he added. ee

‘White man hate Pa-e-has-ka?” said Wanderoo.

“Pa-e-has-ka—that’s Buffalo Bill’s Indian name! The
world ain’t a big enough place for both of us to live in
at the same time, so if we come together Buffalo” Bill will
kill me or I shall kill him.”

“Wh!” Wanderoo grunted.

. “You don’t know about that?”

* “Pg-e-has-ka heap big white warrior.’
. “And I’m another—me, Bob Dalton! ‘Se here! They
call me the worst desperado’ on the border, and T reckon
I am, from their standpoint.”

The medicine man stared again, not comprehending,

“T see that I’ll have to hash: my language a little—you're
no high-browed redskin. Well, this is what I mean: I am
like an Indian toward the white men; I hold up stages
and rob the people, and I steal ponies when I can.”

“AIL same go on warpath.” —

“You catch it.”

“No like Pa-e-has-ka?”

“Tam going to kill him.”

“It 1s good.”

- “See here, Wanderoo; | wonder if any OE: your young
‘men have been in Pagoda Springs lately? If so, maybe
they heard about me there—about the white man that
Pa-e-has-ka captared ‘here near your village and took there.
to jaiie,

* Panther Boot is

“Panther Foot has lately heed | in Baooda Springs 2”

“Play um Ponca scout for pony. soldiers.”

“He pretended to the white people there that he was ‘a
Ponca scout, working under the troopets.” He laughed.
“Tt’S a good thing for him’ that none of the Seventh Cav-
alty didn’t see him when he was pulling that off. IT sup-
pose he came back with a report to you?”

“Tell all what see.”

“This was recently?”

“Las’ week—two days.”

‘ Peince Pa-e- has-ka a the pony soldiers attacked you
ere?” © ;

SMa a

BILL WEEKLY.

“Well, then, you just have a talk with this scout, and
maybe he can tell something about me; I hope so. Ask
him if he heard talk there of the bad white man that had
broken jail and struck out for the Pawnee country or some
other latitude.”

“Do all same.”

“That is Pood.”

“Where Pa-e-has-ka now?”

“T don’t know; probably in Pagoda Springs.”

“Pawnees git ready to fight Pa-e-has-ka and pony sol-
dier. You be friend Pawnees—huh P”

“[m with you,’ said Dalton cagerly, “if it’s bucking
against Buffalo Bill; I said as much as that. I’m going to
kill him for what he done to mé; don’t let that get away
from you!”

“Mebbyso Pa-e-has-ka come here?”

The burning light flickered strangely in the eyes of the
desperado.

“T hope not,” he said; “that is, 1 hope he won’t hurry
about it. Yet I don’t see why he should come at all, as
te and the pony soldiers raided you the other day.”

“Panther Foot say him comin’.

“Then you had better let me join you, Wanderoo.’:

“Heap trouble,” said Wanderoo.

“You're in trouble?” ae

“Heap big trouble. No got plenty amminish.”

“You're short. of ammunition; is that it?”

“Got the kill gun—big medicine kill gun,
plenty times—but no got the ca’tridge.”

“Wow !”

“Huh! You sabe big kill gun?”

“Well, I should reckon! Say, is this kill gun in a box
like this?”

He measured a big square with his hands.

Wanderoo’s face showed animation. Apparently he’ for-
got the revolver, whose muzzle still threatened him. He
nodded his head vigorously.

“You sabe kill gun—yes! You see him?”

“Why, you old—I mean, Wanderoo, IT used to own that
gun myself. Let's see—has it got music inside that box?”

“Heap plenty music.’

The old savage turned an imaginary hand organ to
illustrate.

“The same old gun!’ Well, she’s a wonder—I never saw
anything like it. I used to own that gun, Wanderoo, and
I have been wondering if it was in the Pawnee village,
for c

He hésitated and stopped. a

“T'll tell you how it was. I had that gun in the box,
and a monkey. This monkey was like a little man, and
was dressed in red clothing and had on va little cap with
a red /téather.,’

Wanderoo again bobbed his’ head vigorously.

Have you seen that monk?

“Me got um.’

‘Wow !’ ; :

“All same funny little Pawnee devil.”

“Wow, two times!”

Heap scare Pawnees; heap scare Wanderoo.”

“And you have it in the- village : PY i
“Keep in medicine lodge.”

“T: thought the flood had. ruined that—from all 1. could
see from here.”

“Bix um,” said W anderoo. '

“And you've got the monk a Ye

“Kill gun, too,”

“For which you want ammunition, and can’t eee it?
Well, say, old faker, I reckon you ‘and me ought to make
a deal, eh? You just make it safe ‘for me to go into your
village, and Pll help you with the kill gun, if “Pa-e -has-ka
and ‘the pony soldiers come troubling you. If you ain’t
willing to do that—ain’t willing to trust me—send this
scout of yours, Panther Foot, into Pagoda Springs again
and have him nose around for news of me; he can find out
without trouble that a man named Bob Dalton has broken
out of jail there and skipped. Well, that’s me.”

_ His burning eyes searched the medicine man’s face.

“What do you say?”
“How you git amminish ~’ ueed Wasdevae:

-in return -for it you want me to get ammunition for

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NEW BUFFALO

the kill gun, and you want to know how i'm going to.
do that?”

VN %?

“Vil tell you one way we Can do-it,”

“Wanderoo-listens.”’

“You know where the pony soldiers are—at Fort Stan-
ton? While this little war was on they must have shot
off a lot of cartridges, and they'll need more. If so, them
cartridges wiil be sent by wagon train from the nearest
town on the railway, which is Eagle Point. Lay for that
wagon train and take the cartridges.”

“Wuh! Pony soldier make heap big fight.”

irae \ em:

Wanderoo looked with displeasure at the revolver which
the white man held, then motioned for him to remove it.

“T’ve got to flatter the old humbug,” thought Dalton,

“if I’m to get his good will and get into the village. And
the kill-gun-and-wagon-train idea are good points to con-
sider. If Cody chases me—and I’m bettin’ dollars to, dough-
nuts he’s already doing it—I’ll need friends, too. So it’s
up to me to stand in with these redskins, if I can. I could
drill ’em to a few trick KS that would make Cody’s eyes open,
if we had ammunition.”

He spoke again to Wanderoo.

“T'll take it away,” he said, lowering the revolver; “we
are to be brothers, I hope. Take me into the village and
do what you please with me, and send your scout to
Pagoda Springs to find out if I'm what Lisay de ames sou
can afford to take that risk if I can.’

Wanderoo’s face brightened as the. revolver was syivee
aside.

“Fiery Eye is my brother,” he said.

Dalton passed over the tomahawk.

“Here is proof of it.” :

“Heap good hatchet,” said Wanderoo, feeling the edge
and tucking it in his belt with satisfaction.

He rose to his feet.

“Fiery Eye come,” he said,

A flicker of distrust went over Dalton’s face.

“This is the Rubicon.”

Then he arose, too.

“The die is cast,”
happens.”

He spoke to Wanderoo:

“Let my red brother lead on, at I will follow.”

Wanderoo stepped out.

Drawn to his full height, he was a magnificent old man,
lean yet still well muscled, and his naked, red-brown shoul-
ders fairly glistened in the sunshine.

Dalton, walking behind him, was much smaller, and in
his soiled clothing looked inferior.

So they passed down the bush-strewn slope into the
village of the Pawnees.

he muttered; “Ill do it, whatever

CHAPTER: I
DALTON DIGS BAIT.

“Make hay while the sun shines.”

That was the motto adopted, by Bob Dalton while he
awaited in the Pawnee village the return of Panther Foot,
pon hastily to Pagoda Springs to gather information about
him. ~

As a persistent fisherman Dalton could have given points
to old Izaak Walton. Yet his zeal as a fisherman did not
half equal his size as an angleworm digger.

Declaring his belief that Trout Creek, after the flood,
ought to hold all manner of fish, if only: they could be
caught, he industriously dug bait, choosing for his opera-
tions the ground in the immediate vicinity eS the old medi-
cine lodge.

His fishing success not equaling his sedes he Scared
angleworms soon and sought for other varieties of bait
—so he said. Certainly in his frantic digging he turned
up some curious-looking worms. -

But the things he sought for in reality—the emeralds

vethe did not find.

Old Wanderoo eyed these digging operations at first
with distrust. He remembered that the ground inside the
medicine lodge had been dug up in a precisely similar man-
ner; he had never been able to understand why.

So he questioned Dalton, squatting by the medicine lodge

Bill WEEKLY: 0 3

while Dalton grubbed away with the pick furnished by
the medicine man, an implement he had bought long before
and used in building the medicine lodge.

“T have told my brother about the monkey that I found
with the kill gun by the medicine-lodge door—the little
animal that I thought at first was an Indian devil. After-
ward, when I went into the lodge,’ the ground was torn
up like it is here where my brother is playing gopher for
his fishing.”

Old Wanderoo did not say this in the exact language
quoted. What he said was in a bad mixture of Indian,
English, and hand motions; but it was understood sub-
stantially as set down by the white man.

“T thought,” said Wanderoo, “that the Indian devil had
done it. But’—he flickered his burning eyes on Dalton’s:
face—“perhaps my brother came here in the night and
did that, too.”

As a matter of fact, that was just what the desperado
had done; but he thought it might not be safe to admit it.

“It was a queer thing,” was his noncommittal comment.

“It..was very bad medicine,” said Wanderoo. “After
it the flood came, and then Pa-e-has-ka and the pony sol-
diers; and I was captured by Pa-e-has-ka, who Iet me go
when I promised I would bury, the war hatchet.”

“A promise you didn’t keep,” said Dalton.

“There was another white man—a little man with a wan-
dering eye—who came into the village here in the night
and stole away the kill gun andgthe ‘monkey ; because of
that the Pawnees went on the w ‘arpath again.

“And got whipped in. good shape,” thought
“Served ‘em right, for being fools.”

“Perhaps the monkey. dug up the ground in the lodge,”
said Dalton. He laughed. “And perhaps he was looking
for fish bait.”

Wanderoo frowned.

“My brother makes merry over a. fierce. ” he snarl led;
“and it is not well to do that.. After the floor of the lodge
had been torn up, the pony soldiers and Pa-e-has-ka came.’

has didn't bring ‘em,’ said Dalton; “they'd have come
just the same.’

He stopped work and gave Wanderoo a sharp look.

“T forgot to ask my red brother if Pa-e-has- ka and the
pony soldiers stirred up the ground in the medicine lodge
when they had possession of the Pawnee village.”

“The medicine lodge. was under water then.”

“Ah, so it was; I’d forgot that.

He began to dig again.

-Wanderoo got up ‘and sauntered away, frowned at the
creek, then came back.

“It may make the spirits angry, ’ he said,
in the ground. here by the lodge.”

Dalton’s reckless laugh sounded again.

“You old fraud,” he “thought, “how can you say that?”

“In the lodge, there,” said Wanderoo, “is the wonderful
fountain of .water that changes sometimes to a fountain
of fire; it may trouble the fountain.”

AT you’ re thinking I may dig down and disturb that
fountain !” thought Dalton. ‘So that’s what is biting you!”

“My digging here does not go deep enough to trouble
the fountain,” he assured Wanderoo,

Wanderoo looked at the ground dubiously.

Though he was an old faker, he was superstitious, and
in spite of his many frauds he more than half believed
that he was the possessor of wonderful mystical powers.
The fountain of water which he changed at will to a foun-
tain of fire was a rank swindle. All he did was to divert
the water.of the fountain by a. board placed over it, and
then substitute in its place a blazing torch of gasoline, ‘clev-
erly concealing the torch itself, so that only the fire, appar-
ently issuing from the fountain, was all that the Pawnees
had ever seen.

But on the other hand, he had tested certain magnetic
and hypnotic powers which he really possessed, and had
been as much puzzled by the results as the most ignorant
of his followers.

“There is nothing else that my brother is digging for
here?” he demanded.

“Only for fish bait.”

“But he digs more than he fishes ; and when he fishes

he catches nothing that is fit to eat.”
“Perhaps that is because you watch me so closely, Fish

Dalton.

“Gf you dig

 
 

4 NEW BUFFALO

are scary, and don't like to be stared at; and it is the
same of the worms—they hide in the ground so that I do
not get many of them.”

“My brother wants Wanderoo to go away?” 4

“Not if he does not wish to,” said Dalton craftily. “But
I could get more bait, and when I fish I could get more
fish.”

-Wanderoo rose, folded his blanket round him, and saun-
tered away.

“That old guy,” thought Dalton, as he grubbed on, “is
getting too suspicious, and the Pawnees watch me all the
time. If I should strike that emerald cache here they'd see
me when I did; I wish they would keep away. But it is
sure a funny thing that they let me dig here at all.”

_There were other things with which Dalton apparently
amused himseli—the hand organ and the monkey.

Wanderoo brought them out of the medicine lodge now
and then and exhibited them, to the delight of the Pawnees.

Dalton noticed that he got but one tune out of the
orgatr.

“Let me show you,” he said at last.

Then he instructed Wanderoo how to change the stop
so that other tunes could be produced; and instead of the
one tune that had been ground out almost daily by the
medicine man there was a variety.

“Tis sure a queer sight!” thought Dalton, as he listened
to the hand-organ music and saw the monkey dancing on
the box. ;

When he had opportunity he inspected the machine gun
which was concealed in the organ—a really marvelous
shooting mechanism, but for the frontier defective from
the fact that the caliber of cartridges it used was .38, and
.38’s were not as common there as in the East. Dalton
had bought the composite machine gun and hand organ
from an Italian, who told him it had been made for a
member of the Camorra, the murderous Italian secret so-
ciety; and Dalton had paid the Italian a round sum for it.

He found that the machine-gun part of the organ was
still in good condition, lacking only cartridges for its use.

In three days Panther Foot came back from Pagoda
Springs with his report.

A white man, he said, whose name was Bob Dalton,
had been in jail there and had escaped, and it was sup-
posed he had fled toward the Pawnee country, though no
one had seemed to know.

“Was Pa-e-has-ka there?” asked Wanderoo.

Panther Foot reported that he had heard so, but had
not seen him.

“The pony soldiers?” said Wanderoo.

Panther Foot had not seen the pony soldiers, who were
at Fort Stanton.

He was asked if he knew of an ammunition train that
was to be sent to the pony soldiers.

But of that he had heard nothing.

The report of Panther Foot about the escaped prisoner
confirming Dalton’s story, Wanderoo gave him even more
latitude, and said he would soon make blood brotherhood
with him, when he would be a member of the Pawnee
tribe.

But now Dalton wanted to get out of the village, being
sure that the emeralds were not cached at the spring.

“The fishing-is good only where there is a spring near
the creek,” he said to Wanderoo. “Does my red brother
know of another spring that is close to the creek?”

“Three miles down the creek there is another,’ said
Wanderoo, ‘“‘but it has never turned to fire.”

“My brother is willing that I should go and try the fish
there?” said Dalton, unable to conceal the start of pleasure
which this information gave him; he had not known there
“owas a second spring.

“But if the pony soldiers come!” protested the medicine
man.

“T will watch for the pony soldiers.”

‘My brother will need a guard of armed Pawnees,’” said
Wanderoo, watching him craftily. .

“Which would scare the fish away.”

“So my brother would go alone? It is strange.” -

“T must fish by a spring—-dig the bait there, if I am to
catch anything.”

“It is very strange.”

BILL WEEKLY.

%

“Faye I Wanderoo’s consent?” said Dalton, anxious
now. d

“Is Fiery Eye not my brother?
likes,” was the crafty answer.

Bob Dalton started off in unseemly haste, carrying the
pick and the fishing line of sinew to which a bone hook
was attached; and in less than an hour he was sinking
the pick in the soil by the second spring.

“What a blithering idiot your uncle has been!” he said,
as he toiled away. “I could have come to this place with-
out ever going into the Pawnee village and running the
risks there; and I’m betting here is where that cache is,
if it’s anywhere. Why didn’t I think of looking for an-
other spring? Perhaps that man Brown didn’t know of
the spring where the medicine lodge now stands.”

Less than an hour later, Dalton’s pick struck something
hard and metallic.

“The cache!” he shouted, and began to dig more care-
Sully

Within ten minutes he had unearthed an iron pot, much
rusted by long exposure to the wet soil.

When he lifted it out and pried off the rusty lid he saw
a box inside it—a wooden box, moldy and rotting.

He lifted this out, found the rusted spring, and pried
off the box lid.

“Fureka!” he yelled in his excitement.

The emeralds were in his hands.

He took them out—three strings of them, on chains of
gold, and a larger one in the form of a pendant. |

“Hooray! Hoop-la!”’

He danced with joy.

“Worth a hundred thousand, that letter says, and Ill
bet it. Finest I ever saw—ever want to see.”

He held them up to his throat, and they were strangely
out of place resting against his soiled blue woolen shirt.

“A hundred thousand dollars—and they’re mine! Me
for New York now, fast as I can go; for I know a man
there who will handle these for me and get all there is out
of them. And for a hide-out little old New York has got
the Western ranges beat a mile.”

He was so exultant and noisy over his find that he did
not hear the slide of moccasins behind him.

“Huh!”

An Indian voice in his ears brought him to with a jerk.

Whirling round, he looked into the face of old Wan-
deroo and into the muzzle of a revolver which the old
man pointed steadily at him.
“With ae
“What in the name of

He can go where he

%”

 

‘My brother has been speaking with a double tongue,’

said Wanderoo coldly. “He has not been digging for
little worms, but for the shining stones.”

Dalton tried to pull himself together, but he was shak-
ing, and sweat began to stream over his face.

“That’s all they are,” he protested—“shining stones.”

“And to get them the Fiery Eye lied.”

“No; you're mistaken, I found them by accident, while
I was digging for the worms. My pick struck that kettle,
and when I looked they were inside; but they are only
stones.”

“My brother will let me look at them?”
_ The medicine man brought up the muzzle of the revolver
so that it bore full on Dalton’s breast.

“My brother will let me see them!” he repeated.

Dalton’s face turned white, and for an instant it seemed
that he would launch himself at the medicine man and
have it out with him right then and there.
volver kept him from doing it. Craft might yet prevail.

His own revolver he had taken -off,.cartridge belt and
all, and laid it on the ground when he began digging; and
it was two yards away. Wanderoo could shoot him down
before he could get to it. He blamed himself for a mis-
erable fool in putting his revolver beyond his grasp.

‘They are but stones,’ he urged.

“My brother will let me see them.”

Dalton passed them over reluctantly.

His white face,was set, his teeth grinding with rage.
i meant to fight to the, death fer them, if forced to
ao: $0,

Wanderoo held them up and stepped backward, swing-

ing round at the same time. It was cleverly done, for the

But that re- -

 

 
 

 

NEW BUFFALO

motion put Bob Dalton’s revolver behind him and made
it impossible for the desperado to get it.

The action, however, was not lost on Dalton.

Still holding the revolver ready, the old medicine man
looked, with a quick glance, at the emeralds.

“Green stones,” he said.

“TY think I should like to wear them, since I found them,”
urged Dalton, trying to control his rage.

“To show my white brother that I trust him,” said Wan-
deroo, “I will let him wear so many.”

He detached the two shorter strings—about half the
emeralds—and passed them to Dalton.

“The others I will have my squaw sew to my leggings,”
said the medicine man.

“T’ll take all of them,” said Dalton, trembling.

He had clutched those extended.

“We are brothers,” said Wanderoo smoothly, “so we
will divide, as brothers should. They are pretty.”

Dalton did not need to understand the Indian words—
the manner of the medicine man was enough. He saw that
the other emeralds were not to be restored to him.

Unable to restrain his fury, he jumped at Wanderoo.

Instead of shooting him, Wanderoo used the revolver
: hammer and tapped the furious white man on the
ead.

Dalton staggered as his knees weakened under him, and

fell to the ground..

Wanderoo picked up Dalton’s revolver and thrust it
into his belt. a

“Will my white brother not accept the half of the shin-
ing stones that I offer him?” he said, and extended the
two strings which had dropped from Dalton’s hands.

Dalton glared and choked; his eyes felt red and bloody,
his head ached and spun round.

“You mighty nigh caved my head in, you Indian hound!”
ie snateked in round English. “And I'll settle with you
or it!”

Wanderoo’s eyes blazed a little, showing that he under-
stood every word.

“We have not made blood brotherhood—yet,” he re-
minded, “But,” he added slowly, “when we do my brother
can wear the two strings of stones, and I will wear the
other. What says my~brother?’”

Another furious speech was on Dalton’s tongue.

“Tm a fool!” he panted to himself,

Then he coaxed a smile to his white face.

“Tt is as Wanderoo says; give me the two strings.”

Wanderoo tossed them to him.

Dalton thrust them into the bosom of his shirt:

“Now my revolver.”

Wanderoo’s shining eyes twinkled slyly.

“My brother might harm himself with it,” he declared,
“so Iwill keep it for my brother.”

Dalton tried to consider the situation, The blow had
weakenéd him—his whole body was trembling; and he
knew that, weaponless and in that condition, he was no

‘match for the cunning medicine man.

“Let it go,” he said, as if reconciled.

“My brother will hunt again for the little worms that
the fish: eat?’ said Wanderoo.

“I can’t now—since you gave me that on the head.”

“We will return, then, to the village.”

Dalton again considered,

“Yes,” he said, “we will return to the Pawnee village.”

But that night Dalton escaped, taking the two strings
of emeralds.

“A half loaf is better than no bread,” he said, as he
footed it along Trout Creek, for he had been unable to:
secure a Pawnee cayuse.

CHAPTER’ IIL.
DALTON’S QUICK TRANSFORMATION.

Bill Wilson, the new driver of the stage running between
Pagoda Springs and Cimarron Crossing, looked askance
at the man who had hailed him beside the trail.

“I s'pose ye kin pre a lift, podner—if I pay fer it?”

Wilson hesitated. The man was shabby in appearance;
a week’s growth of stubby beard was on his face, his
clothing was baggy, soiled, and mud-spattered, and he
looked generally disreputable. But all that could be seen

DILL WEEKLY. ee 5

any day in and out of Pagoda Springs, and not receive
a second glance; the miners, many of them, were notori-
ously untidy. So that was not why Wilson stared and
hesitated.

“I’m a miner,” said the man; “er, ruther, I been tryin’
to be; ain’t struck nothin’ but yaller dirt. The man that
grubstaked me will, I reckon, be some sore.”

“Whar ye goin’ to?” said Wilson.

“Cimarron Crossin’, if I can git there. And I've got
the money to pay my fare.”

Wilson thought of the other “fare” inside; of Bob
Dalton, the road agent, who had escaped jail and was
at large; of the man’s unprepossessing appearance; but,
more than all, of the man’s fiery eyes. He did not like
the looks of those eyes.

“Fare’s twenty dollars,” said Wilson.

“The way you figger up change in your head is shoré
a wonder,’ said the man.

He put back his hand as if to draw a:revolver, but
drew a soiled wallet instead, and took out of it a shining
double eagle.

“Here ye aire.”

He flung it up to the driver and set foot on the step. |

“You're goin’ to ride up hyar with me, I take it?”

“Nope; inside for me.”

“Then I'll haf to make it five dollars more,” said Wilson,
hoping the man would not pay it but would mount beside
him on the driver’s seat.

“The Charge of the Light
you,” said the man.

But he tossed up a five-dollar gold. piece. ;

Wilson thought again of the fare inside, but his mouth
had been closed. He had no proof that the man who
sought passage was not an honest miner, and the young

Brigade wasn't nothin’. to

lady passenger inside had no right to object; this was a.

public stage.

The stage driver cracked his whip and sent his horses
on as soon as the new passenger was inside.

The latter, dropping to his seat, saw the young woman.
He did not know her, but she was young and comely.
Beside her was her suit case. A glance of the fiery eyes
took this in; then a further observance showed that she
wore a hat of blue straw with a white feather, and that
her dress was blue. — -

“A handsome bluebird,” he thought, “and I don’t know
but I’m in big luck; we'll see.”

“Seems to me I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said, when
the stagecoach had bounced on for a mile or so; “but
likely I’m mistaken.”

“You are probably mistaken.”

She looked out of the window on her side.

“I know about all the people round here—unless you're
a newcomer.”

This was his second shot, after another half mile.

He settled back grimly when she did not reply to this.

The young’ woman who had rebuffed his apparent ad-
vances was Bessie Donovan, daughter of Denver Donovan,
the cattleman, locally known as the Red-hot Poker; and
she was on her way home to her father’s ranch, beyond
Cimarron Crossing.

Together with her father she had left it more than two
weeks before, since which time, until the last four or five
days, she had been through sime lively adventures, which
at the same time were so p€rilous that the memory of them
disturbed her dreams as well as her waking thoughts.

She and her father had been caught in the great Trout

Creek cloud-burst and flood, when they had lost their

horses and nearly lost their lives. They had been cap-
tured by old Wanderoo’s braves, and they had suffered
much. But for Buffalo Bill they would never have seen
Pagoda Springs again. i

Now, with the white dove of peace hovering over the
plains, she was going back home, whither her father had
preceded her. Wanderoo had been whipped, and the Paw-
nee troubles were over.
a few notable exceptions. One of the notable exceptions
was old Nick Nomad,-Buffalo Bill’s trapper pard,--and
Nomad knew Indians.

“This old wagon jolts mighty lively,” chirped the new
passenger, again addressing the young woman, when a
jolting lurch threw him half out of his seat.

So everybody said; that is, with

 
  

NEW BUFFALO

6

But this met with the same cold silence.

The new passenger began to count the buttons on his
coat.

“She loves me, she loves me not,” he said under his
breath; “she loves me, she loves me not; she loves me :

The stage gave another bouncing jolt.

It did not seem to the girl as violent as the one before,
but it shot the new passenger -.across the stage and de-
posited him on the seat by her side. j
She pushed back away frm him. 7
“T think you have been drinking,” she said.

He bounced back and resumed his own seat,

“T beg your pardon for that,” he said, “and I assure you

have not been drinking.” :

He glanced now out of the window on his side.

“It’s going to pay me not to get fresh,” he thought;
“for it’s in her mind to appeal to the driver to have me
put off, and that wouldn’t do. Out here 1 wouldn’t mind
him, of course; but at some stopping place a

He flattened his nose against the window and stared at
the uninteresting landscape. Pe
“The stage stopped at Cactus Point, and two passengers
got on; but they were outside passengers, and the driver
~velcomed them.

“While the horses were being changed some of the loung-

ers talked, and the new inside passenger listened.

“Better look out, Wilson,” chaffed one, “that you don’t
meet up with the road agent.”

“He didn’t come out this way,” said Wilson; “he went
furder east, and then into the Pawnee country; he hit
straight for Trout Creek, they told me—them that tried
to foller him.”

“Well, don’t you believe it.”

“But if you do see him, Wilson,” said another, “just rake
him in; there’s ten thousand dollars reward out for him,
remember.” ;

The man ‘at the head of the horses joined in:

_ “Them pony soldiers that went along here visterday
agreed with Simpson that he might be out this way. They
went on along this trail.”

The girl lifted her head at that mention of the pony
soldiers.

“Don’t fool yerself none about what them pony soldiers
was up to; Bill Brady was leadin’ ’°em. He's got shoulder
straps now because of work he done when old Wanderoo’s
redskins was playing war. He’s got a girl out at Don-

- ovan’s, and he’s playing hunt Bob Dalton_ out here jest
for an excuse to get over to Donovan’s. ‘Take that from
me as the truth, and you're wise.” ae

The girl’s cheeks showed a hot flush.

Bill Wilson flicked his lash toward the speaker to get
his attention.

“Steer off frum that,” he whispered, and looked down
at the stage and winked.

“Oh, thunder, is that so?” came into the stage in a low
grumble.

When the stage went on the two outside passengers
and the driver still talked of the recent Pawnee troubles
and of Bob Dalton, the escaped road agent and murderer
for whom a ten-thousand-dollar reward was out.

They were of the opinion that he had crossed. Pawnee
ground and was heading toward Texas.

“The Pawnees wouldn’t shelter him,” was urged; “and,
as officers were chasing him, he’d have to keep going.”

The girl had been for some moments looking attentively
at the new inside passenger.

The latter counted his coat buttons again, this time in a
voice that she could hear:

“She loves me, she loves me not; she loves me, she loves
me not; she loves me .

The light jolt, as a wheel dropped into a hole in the
rutty trail, did not seem enough to shoot the new passenger
out of his seat; but it did, and deposited him again beside
the girl.

She was about to draw back when to her dismay she
- saw that the man’ by her side held a revolver and was point-
ing it at her face.

“Rasy,” he said, “and you'll find that I'm a turtledove
for kindness; but——”

She seemed about to scream, but the touch of the cold

 

totes:

 

 

BILL) WEEKLY.
muzzle of the weapon against her cheek made her drop
back in trembling silence.
“What—do you want?” she gasped.
“T want you to keep still, that’s all, and it. ought to be
easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” :
He pulled back the revolver, but kept it pointed at her

face: i
“This is a Pawnee revolver, which is rusty and mighty ¢
uncertain in its behavior; it might go off suddenly if you
was to try to make a row.” j

“Who are you?” she gasped. ;

“Vou heard me tell the driver I was an
hard luck.” :

He reached over and drew her suit case toward him.

“Tt beg your pardon, but I’ve had a curiosity about this
suit case for some time, so I’m going to look at it. What's
i 4625 '

“Tust my clothing. There is no money ra ibe cae

“There are things worth more than money—at times.”

He lifted the suit case to the seat, and, still keeping her
covered with the menacing revolver, he opened it.

“Tust you keep still, little lady, while I go through this
thing; I’ll not be long.”

She half started to her feet, but dropped back; she was
now not only trembling, but sobbing.

“Weep all you want to,” he said brutally, “just so you
don’t do it out loud. If you're thinking of calling to them {
men up there-don’t. They’re friends and pals of mine, |
and they wouldn’t like to have me disturbed; besides, they |
could take care of the driver.”

“T think that’s a lie,” she said. |

“Tust as you like, lady; but it ain't no lie that I'll shoot |
you dead if you call cut or make any fuss in here.’

He began to take the things out of the suit case, tossing
them out with oue hand; and he looked at her as much
as he looked at the clothing he was tumbling to the floor.

“A dress,” he said. “That’s good, for it’s a long ote. | |

He looked her over. 8

“Tt’s gray, and I wish it was blue; perhaps I'll ask you |
to change it for the one you're wearing.”

“But if I did,” he thought, “that might make her yell
out in spite of this pistol.” is

“Ah! he said, as he brought up a tiny looking-glass.
“No young lady conscious of her good looks could travel
without one of these, of course.”

- He tossed out and pawed over other wearing apparel.

“Here’s a pair of shoes—too little!”

He let them slide to the floor.

Turning his attention now to the girl, he stood up.

“Gentle creature,” he said, “I beg you to believe that I
do not intend to harm you; I am a man of honor, and——”

“You—you are Bob Dalton!” she gasped.

His manner changed.

“Youll understand, then,’ he said, shrugging his shoul-
ders as he balanced himself easily in the swaying vehicle,
“that if you do cry out you will certainly get a bullet.
Bear it in mind.” ;

She fumbled at the bosom of her dress.

“Got a shooting iron.there, eh? Don’t try to get it out;
that would be more dangerous for you than for me.”

Her hand dropped away.

Cott 1 cry Ole

“You get my bullet. Yes, I’m Bob Dalton, dangerous
man and desperado. Im a man that has killed people,
and I'll kill you if you don’t keep still now.” ¥

His words terrified her into silence. ,

Staring-eyed and trembling, she saw him put on the
gray dress. over his clothing, then look at himself in the
little mirror. 4

“Too tight ‘in several places,” he said, “but it will have |
to do. Now I'll take your hat.” f

She drew out the pins and passed it to him. a

When he set it on his head it would not stay there |
readily.

He looked at her again.

“How in Oh, yes, I see; you’ve got to have hair
to stick the pins through. I think you’ve got a roll there
that once belonged to another woman. Just unwind it

and give it to me.”

She obeyed.

Dalton set the false hair on his head, the hat on top

   

honest miner in

 

   
    
 

    
 

everything wanted to slide off.

“Sure!” he said, stopping. “What a fool I am!
the stuff.”

There had been a veil in the suit case, and it was this
he brought up now.

“Tie this over my head and adee my dimpled chin,
andthe hat and the hair stays on and I’m able to conceal
the fact that I might with advantage be handsomer. Now
I know why women wear veils. I thought it was to pro-
tect their complexion, but it’s to hide the fatal defect of a
lack of beauty. I’m amazed, my dear young lady, that
you ever thought you might need one. But thanks for it.”

He pulled the veil into place and tried to survey himself
in the mirror.

“Ym a sight—I’m a fright,” he said, studying himself
as well as he could. ‘Nothing fits, not even the veil; the
Ala is too short, and—oh, well, what’s the dif? It’s got
to do.

He dropped to a seat opposite, and again the revolver
swung up and was pointed at her.

“Youre Miss Donovan,- and out here-somewhere, as
you heard, pony soldiers are looking for me, led by a young
blood that is stuck on you. If he captures me in this rig

Here’s

-he’ll think he’s having a meeting with his sweetheart.”

CHAPTER IV.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BESSIE DONOVAN.

Lieutenant Brady drew his troopers aside from the trail
when he heard the stage from Pagoda Springs.

As it drew alongside, he signaled it to halt. But he
need not have done so, for Wilson was already drawing

_ in on the lines,

The halting place was in rough ground, filled. with rocks
and mesquite. The mesquite bushes resembled in their
general appearance a crowded and irregularly set, half-

ead, old- peach orchard. They covered the ground all

about, and stretched away to the base of low hills.

“Halt it is,’ said Wilson, as his dancing and half-scared
horses came to the semblance of a stop; “but you'll see
that I can’t hold the caballos still nohow.” !

“All we wanted to ask about,’ said Lieutenant Brady,
“fs as to the condition of the trail, and if you have heard

anything about Bob Dalton.”

His eyes covered not only the driver, but the two pas-
sengers on top of the stage.

“Dalton’s layin’ low, if he’s in this neck o’ the woods,”
said Wilson; “but you might look inside.”

Brady stared, glanced at the stage, and dropped his
hand quickly to his revolver. The troopers began to
close in.

Bill Wilson did not believe that the desperado was inside

the stage, but he knew that Bessie Donovan was, and what’

he had said was in the spirit of fun; he wanted to see the
stare of astonishment and the flush of pleasure which he

anticipated would come to Brady’s face when he beheld

the ‘girl.

“Do. you mean it?” said Brady, interpreting the driver’s
remark in the natural way.

He spurred up to a door of the stage, leaned over in his
saddle, and; with a yank of the handle, drew the door
open. With the other hand he at the same time drew his
revolver.

“Will the inside passengers please step out into the sun-
shine?” he invited, his voice suddenly metallic. .

There was a movement, and a heavily veiled woman

came through the door, swinging a suit case, and dropped

to the ground.

Bill Wilson stared when he saw her, for he had no rec-
ollection that such a woman had taken passage with him.

“Well, may I be——”’

“Will the other passengers pléase step out,”
commanding.

The heavily veiled woman coughed behind her veil and
swung through the line of troopers.
."Tve got to Bit out where I can breathe,” she said in a
piping voice. “The dust in that stage is something awful;
I got to git up on these rocks or I can’t breathe.”

Bill Wilson was staring at her, goggle- eyed.

One he said, turning to Brady, * as

Brady was

4

NEW BUFFALO

 

   

of it, then thrust the pins through. But still the hat and

trail somewhere.”

       
   

y *

Bild Wein y.

But Brady had swung out of the saddle and thrust his
head into the stage door. It was dark inside, and he did
not see well; but he thought he beheld the form of a
woman in one corner of the stage.

“What's the joke?” he called suddenly to Wilson.
“There is only a woman in here; no man at all!”

Before Wilson could answer, a revolver cracked, and
the horses jumped forward, the sudden lurch of the stage
throwing the driver backward on top of the stage.

The supposed woman had fired the shot, sending a pellet
of lead into the ear of one of the horses. The next instant
she had jumped down behind a rock, and was sprinting
through the mesquite.

Before Brady and the astonished troopers could get
their wits together the stage horses were ane away,
and Bill Wilson had tumbled to the ground; while the
female figure sprinted on through the mesquite, heading
for the base. of the hills.

“Pursue that woman, some of you!” shouted Brady. “I
don’t know what this means, but-——” :

Bill Wilson came up with a jump, scratching his bewil-
dered head. as

“Better try to ketch them horses,” he advised, “fer that
woman in the stage is one that I hear you're interested in;
I’m meanin’ Miss Donovan.

“Bess Donovan?” said Sergeant Brady, jerking his horse
round, as some of the troopers tried to ride their animals
into the thick of the mesquite.

“That's what I said. There’s a man in the stage, too 5
but

He scratched his head some more.

“But that other woman—I don’t know where she came
from; she never paid no fare to me!”

Brady had swtng his animal into the trail, and now
struck the spurs deep. His horse shot away after the rat-
tline stage, and the driver’s words did not reach him.

But Wilson had gained the attention of a trooper.

“What's that?” said the latter.

“That woman in gray, with a veil on; I hever seen her
before, and I’m dog-goned if I know how she got in the -
stage! And that shot—she done that, didn’t she?”

“The boys will get her soon and bring her back here,
so we can find out what she meant by that. But you heard
Sergeant Brady say there was no man in the stage, and
you told him there was; you made him think thateBob
Dalton might be in there. W hy was that?”

Wilson staggered up, bewildered.

“Bess Donovan was in the stage, and a man was in
there, too; he got on back here some miles, and he didn’t
git out, so of course he was in there. But that woman
that shot at the horses and then run Sgt i

“Thunder and Mars!” yelled the trooper. ‘We're a set
of idiots! Why—that woman must have been Dalton!”

He .drove into the mesquite, quirting his horse, and
shouted to the troopers ahead not to let the woman get
away.

Inside of a minute Bill Wilson was alone.

He stared round, said a few things that were. vigorous
and appropriate to the occasion, and ‘started along the trail
at a dead heat, following his runaway horses.

The troopers were chasing through the mesquite after
the veiled figure that fled on before and began to climb
the mesquite hills.

Far down the trail now were the plunging Horses: and
the rocking old stagecoach; and in hot pursuit, but some
distance behind, was Sergeant Brady, spurring wildly.

Two miles farther on, Brady came.in sight of the coach
and the horses. The latter were down in their harness,
and the stage was wedged between two mesquite trees and
damaged hopelessly. The door of the stage was open and
sagged on its broken hinges.

Brady rode up hastily, flung out of the saddle before his
horse could stop, and rushed to the stage door,

‘The stagecoach was empty!
With hand on the door, he stood, reeling and dy,”
“Not here!” he gasped.

He had seen the woman, and the driver had said- she was
Bessie Donovan. But no one was here. -

“She was thrown out!” he said. “TL u find her r by ‘the

 

e

 

  
  

  

NEW BUFFALO

He climbed into “the saddle, pulled his smoking horse
round, and rode hurriedly along the backward way.

He saw no unconscious form beside the trail, such as
he had expected to find.

Meeting two of the troopers, who had followed him, he
asked them if they had seen a woman lying unconscious
by the trail.

They had not.

“The coach is smashed, and the horses are hurt, down
there,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “You ride on
down there and see what you can do for the horses. And
look for the woman. There was a woman in the stage;
the driver said so, and I saw her.”

Galloping. back to the point where the runaway had
started, he found some of his troopers returning; also he
met, before he got there, the driver, Bill Wilson.

“Do you know that woman was Miss Donovan?” he had
demanded of Wilson.

“Sure thing,” said Wilson; “I’ve seen her before; and
when I said I was acquainted with. her father, she told
me who she was.”

“And that man! You said there was a man in the
stage, but I didn’t see one; and before that you gave me
the idea that Bob Dalton was inside. How about that?”

“It’s a sticker—for me,” said Wilson. “But some of
your pony soldiers thinks that the woman who shot off
that pistol and started everything to millin’ wasn’t a
woman, but was Dalton himself. I heard one of ’em yelp
out that idee jest as I started off down this way.”

“When I found the stage no woman was in it; so I
started back, looking for her, thinking she had been thrown
out; but I didn’t See her.”

“Well, if that’s so,” said Wilson, “I’m stuck again. But
she is bound to be in the stage or outside of it; Aint she re

“Not if she wasn’t Miss Donovan, but was a man.’

“Wow !?

“Tf that’ other woman was a man—was Bob Dalton—

perhaps the woman who was with him was not a woman

but one of his pals.”
“Say, I’m gittin’ bughouse!”

-“That might be so, eh?”

“No, it couldn’t,’” said Wilson; “for don’t I tell you that
I saw Miss Donovan and recognized her, and she told me
she was Donovan’s girl?”

Brady stared at the driver.

“Why @id you make me think Bob Dalton was inside?”
he asked.

“That. was for a joke—honest it was. You see, I didn’t
-believe that, though I didn’t know who the man was and
didn’t like his looks ; but I wanted you to look into the
stage. I thought it would surprise ye—be a happy and
gladsome kind of a surprise, when you saw Miss Donovan
and didn’t know she was there.”

Brady pulled round suddenly and quirted on to the point
where the stage had been when the supposed woman drove
into the mesquite.

Several troopers were there, and more were coming in;
the woman had not been overtaken, and she had got into
the broken land of the hills, where horseback pursuit could
be readily baffled.

The troopers were discussing the theory propounded by
one of their number—that Bob Dalton and the veiled
woman in gray were one and the same person.

“Maybe that’s. so,’ admitted Brady, “and. we've let him
-slip right through our fingers, when we might as well have
had him; but will you tell me what has become of the
young woman I saw in the coach and that the driver insists
was Miss Donovan? She isn’t in the stage now—wasn’t
in it when I overtook the stage; and she isn’t to be found
by the trail.”

Brady was much shaken, but he tried to conceal it and
control himself.

“She might have been bad scared and jumped out and
then run out into the mesquite. That runaway was scary—
and you git a woman scared and she is likely to do ’most
anything.”

“That’s so, too,” said Brady, comforted. “We'll make a
search along the trail and we'll call to her.”

They made the search ; a called ;
their revolvers.

‘But they did not find Bessie Donovan.

cried Wilson.

 

Bll oy

they even fired off

 

   

fa ‘
EEKLY.

CHAPTER: V.

KICKING BIRD'S MESSAGE.

The young Pawnee who came riding into Pagoda ce.
astride his spotted mustang was a handsome specimen: He
wore his eagle feather and headband of scarlet Harnel,
but there was no paint on his face. His hunting jacket,
leggings, and moccasins were of soit buckskin, ornamented
with beads and painted quills; his hackamore was buckskin,
and so was his rope. At his back he carried a short car-
bine; at his waist a knife and revolver, an Indian hatchet,
and a belt of cartridges.

This Indian was Kicking Bird, one of the leading Paw-
nee braves until recently, when he had gained the displeas-
ure of old Wanderoo.

He looked from side to side as he rode down the main
street of Pagoda Springs. Stopping now and:then to stare
at a house, his hesitation lasted but a moment, and he
kicked his mustang on, beating its flanks softly with his
heelless moccasins,

Finally he reined in before the hitching post that ex-
tended the length of the principal hostelry. A number of
men were sitting on the piazza, and horses were hitched
to the pole, so the place looked inviting.

Since the recent Pawnee outbreak, a Pawnee was cer-
tain to attract attention in Pagoda Springs, and Kicking
Bird got his full share as he roped the “paint” to the hitch-
ing pole.

Stepping up to the piazza, he stared hard at the white
men.

“Pa-e-has-ka !”

“What does the buck mean?” asked one of the men.

“Pa-e-has-ka,” the Indian repeated.

“Say, aint that what the reds call Cody?” “one of the
men inquired.

“Do you mean Buffalo Bill?” he shouted at eons
Bird.

“Pa-e-has-ka.”

“Cody is in, ain’t he?” he asked, when he saw that tie
Pawnee did not comprehend him.

“T think he is, but I dunno; saw some of his men round
here a while ago.’

The man who seemed most interested rose
chair and went inside.

“There’s a red outside,
he informed the clerk.

ton his

but we don’t know what he’s
“1 think mebby he’s askin’

Savin:
for Cody. You better go out ond see about it; he’s a
Pawnee.’

““Pa-e-has-ka,” repeated Kicking Bird whed the clerk

appeared on the Piazza.

“Seems to me,’ ’ said the clerk’s informant,
the reds call Cody.”

i The clerk turned back, and in the hall he met Page

ill.

“There’s a Pawnee outside, saying something; vou can
understand him probably. We thought maybe he was
wantin’ to see Cody.”

Pawnee went outside.

“Maj Lillie!” the Indian cried as soon as he saw him.

“Kicking Bird!” said Pawnee.

He stepped to the railing, bent over, and clasped the
Pawnee by the hand. A smile of pleasure and comfort
Swept across the Pawnee’s brown face.

“Kicking Bird has come the long trail to see Pa-e-has-ka
and Maj Lillie,” he explained. “‘Is Pa-e-has-ka here?”

“Kicking Bird is welcome,” said Pawnee in the Indian’s
own language, “and Pa-e- -has-ka will be glad to see him.
My brother brings news?”

Kicking Bird glanced at the now interested white men 4
on the piazza without answering, walked cot to the hotel
steps, and ascended...

“He is in here,” said Pawnee Bill, piloine the way.

hats what

Conducted to the second floor, the Indian was shown | |

by him into'a room. Weapons were on the walls—crossed |
Indian lances, guns, and revolvers, also some Indian moc-
casins and a war bonnet. It looked like a tepee, Kicking
Bird thought; but he did not see Pa-e-has-ka. -

But Pawnee’s voice was ringing through the hall, and
Pa-e-has-ka came, with old Nomad, the baron, and Little
Cayuse Healing ats ‘him.

 

   
 

 

vay,”

 

 

   

NEW BUFFALO

Squatting down in the room, Little Cayuse looked hard
at the Pawnee; he knew this visit meant something. The
others knew it, too, and. so the door was closed and the
scout turned to his visitor. :

“I have come the long ride,” said Kicking Bird, “with
news for my white brothers. The Pawnees have painted
again for the war trail, and Wanderoo and Two F eathers
are in command.”

His black eyes snapped; he hated Two Feathers, who
had succeeded to the subchieftaincy, from which he had
been deposed by old Wanderoo; and he hated Wanderco
oo the latter had turned against him and sought his
ife

“Let my brother speak on,” Buffalo Bill invited. “He
is with friends, and when we leave this room we shall
stop our mouths. He brings news that the Pawnees are
ready again for the war trail. We thought that was over.”

“Fiery Eye, the white man, has been among them,” said
Kicking Bird.

Nomad came up with a jerk of renewed interest at that.

“Waugh!” he breathed. “I reckon he means Bob

Dalton.’

“Fiery Eye came to the Pawnees,” said Kicking Bird,
“and he was received by Wanderoo. He said Pa-e-has-ka
had thrown. him into prison and he had escaped and now
sought Wanderoo’s friendship. So Wanderoo sent Pan-
ther Foot to this place to learn the truth; and when Pan-
ther Foot came back he said it was true.

“Wanderoo is in a rage against the white men since
they attacked the village; and he has the kill gun, but he
could do nothing with it because it had no bullets.

“Fiery Eye said to Wanderoo that the wagons which
go to the pony soldiers carry bullets for them, and they
could be attacked, the pony soldiers killed, and the bullets
be got for the little kill gun; and it pleased Wanderoo.

“While he was there, Fiery Eye fished and dug the
ground for worms; and one day he found many green
stones.”

“Waugh!” Nomad gulped again, rolling his eyes round
at Buffalo Bill.

“Wanderoo took half the green stones, and gave the
other half to Fiery Eye; but it made Fiery Eye mad,. be-
cause he wanted all the green stones; and in the night
he left the village.

“Wanderoo the next day took braves and followed him.
He found him near the trail over which the many-horses
wagon goes to Cimarron Crossing. The many horses had
run away and the wagon was broken. Fiery Eye had been
in it, and the pony soldiers had tried to get him. When
they pursued him many hours he killed one of them and
took the pony soldier’s weapons; but before he killed the
pony soldier he made the pony soldier tell him about the
wagons that go with bullets,

“Then he met Wanderoo and Two Feathers, and he told
them what the pony soldiers had told him.

“Panther Foot was sent back to the village to get more
warriors. I was not in the village, nor with Wanderoo;
I have been cast out. _But Panther Foot is my friend, and
I met him by the way. And he told me of the news and
why he came in haste to the village.

“Then Kicking Bird took his mustang and rode here to
tell Pa-e-has-ka.”

a am seeing some more oof oxcidemendt caming my
said the baron, when he got the meaning of this
through a translation made by old Nomad.

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee had begun to question Kicking

Bird. For an hour they kept it up, and learned many |

things. e

“Dalton has joined forces with Wanderoo,” said Pawnee,
“and if that wagon which started out yesterday for. Fort
Stanton is held up by them they'll get all the ammunition
they need. A lack .of ammunition has kept. Wanderoo
from doing anything until now.”

“But no news has come in about that stage,” the scout
added. “Brady went out that way with pony soldiers, but
he hadn’t reported when I inquired last.”

“And ther posse thet is chasin’ Bob Dalton dorhwatd
might’s well quit et and come back,” remarked Nomad.

“The Pawnees are going to ambush the ammunition
wagon at Black Rock,” said Pawnee Bul,- “and it will be

a hurry TS if we get there in time, Pard Bill”

4

   

 

BILE WEERLY. 9

“You are right about that.’ The scout looked at his
watch. “But maybe we can do it by hard riding. I won-
der that Brady’s men didn’t bump into the reds over by
that trail where Kicking Bird says they met Dalton.*

“Chainces aire,” suggested Nomad, “thet young Brady
didn’t tarry thar er tharabouts, but went on ter Donovan’s
fanch; fer, ye see, bein’ thet he is int’rested in Donovan’ 5
gal, hed

He stopped abruptly.

“Waugh !” he bellowed. “Don't ye recklect thet Don-
ovan’s gal went out er hyar on ther stage thet Kickin’
Bird says has been convarted inter splinters?”

“Ve are going to have blenty oof oxcidemendts,” purred
the baron, rubbing his fat hands together, “budt idt iss me
vor der Bawnee drail yedt. Nomad unt Little Cayuse can
go out py dot odder vun.’

He got up and began to harness himself into his revolver
belt and gun strap.

“Ain’t no use o’ any one goin’ out on ther Cimarron
Crossin’ Trail,’ Nomad objected; “fer, o’ course, ther
driver war thar, and Brady he’s perambulatin’ through thet
neighborhood.”

But he began to question Kicking Bird along a new line.

When old Nomad talked Indian he spoke well; when
he tried to speak English he became a word butcher.

“The Pawnees who met Fiery Eye did not see the white
maiden that went from here in the many-horses wagon?”
he asked.

al think she was killed by Fiery Eye,” said Kicking Bird
gravely; “for when Panther Foot saw him he had in a
box he carried some -woman’s clothing—a white woman's
clothing.”

“And the pony soldiers who were out there—they did
not know anything about her?”

“About that Ki€king Bird does not know—Panther Foot
did not say. But the pony soldiers were hunting for Fiery
Eye, and he killed one of them.. I have said that is how
Fiery Eve got news of the bullet wagon.’

“Waal’—-Nomad rose to his feet—“I war goin’ ter kick
like a steer ag’inst bein’ sent out on thet Cimarron Crossin’
Frail, but now I stops kickin’. Ef you’d lemme take Cayuse,
Bufiler, Vi rack out er this in five minutes by. ther watch.”

“Take him.”

By the time Nomad and Little Cayuse were flickering out
of sight on the western trail, Buffalo Bill and the others
were prepared to take the trail leading toward Black Rock.

They had with them Kicking Bird.

Black Rock was not approached until nearly dark. But
2t sunset they heard a sudden rattle of firearms in that
dir ection, and distant Indian yells.

“Idt iss a fighdt!” said the baron, ard began to larrup
Toofer.

Though they rode hard after that, they were too late.
On their arrival in the deep gorge by Black Rock they.
found the ammunition wagon on fire and three slain pony
soldiers on the ground.

The trail of unshod ponies was fresh, and it led off
southward in the direction of Trout Creek and old Wan-
deroo’s village.

“Half a hundred in that war party,” said Pawnee as he
studied the pony trail; “too many for us to tackle if we
could connect with them. I[t’s a thousand pities, Cody, that
we didn’t overtake the troopers in time to warn them.”

They swung their search out until it covered a good
deal of territory.

Kicking Bird’s whoop drew the wee men.

When they reached him he was pointing to boot tracks
close by the rock.

“Fiery Eye,” he said.

“Proof that Dalton was here—or some white man,” said
Pawnee. *“Of course it was Dalton, and he is with Wan-
deroo, and safe enough.”

“Unt dhey haf now amminidion vor dot funny little
hant-organ machine gun,’ added the baron. “i pedt you
dhere iss going to be sqgme merry var pitzness righdt. avay.
Vale, idt suidts me; vhen I am nodt fighdting I am schmok-
ne too mooch, unt idt iss making me too fat.’

Who was it, Cody, spread the news th tat the Pawnee
war was over?” remarked Pawnee Bill,

  

   
10 NEW BUFFALO
: CHAPTER VE oe a
PAWNEE BILL’S PAWNEE PARD.

“As there was a guard of six troopers, and the wagon
driver,” said Buffalo Bill, “it is clear that the Pawnees
have taken four prisoners with them.”

“Dot iss der vorsdt oof a padt pitzness,” affirmed the
baron; “for an Inchun tond’t can haf some brisoners
mitout vandting to dorture dhem. I am remempering der
dime so same as yisterday vhen I haf peen cabtured py der
Blackfeedt, unt a fire iss buildt roundt me, -Himmel! Idt
gifes me der sveadt to t’ink apoudt dot.”

“But you got away, baron,” reminded Pawnee.

“Yaw, I dit—py der hellup oof oldt Nomadt; but yoost
der sameness idt makes me varm to rememper idt.’

He mopped his brow with a handkerchief that was redder
than his face; then dug out his pipe and began to put the
lengthy stem together for business. —

“T haf to make me some schmoke to forgedt dot,” he

averred. “Aber I aind’t objecting oof ve move on. Dose
droopers may be in der frying righdt now.” »
“You can bank on that, Schnitz,”"-~said Pawnee. ‘“‘Still,

there are certain things to be taken into consideration
before we make this forward move. The Pawnees have
captured all the ammunition intended for the pony sol-
diers at Fort Stanton, which means that they are heeled
for red-hot fighting, And as there were a lot of thirty-
eight cartridges, they got fodder for that machine gun,
and that little gun can do some wicked shooting.”

“Oof. I get your meanness, idt iss dot ve shouldt now
go a leedle slow, or make some retreadts?”

“No retreating for me; but we've got to go slow and
feel out our way. I’m glad we've got so good an Indian
scout as Kicking Bird with us, since we hayen’t Little
Cayuse.”

Kicking Bird was still searching the ground and Buffalo
Bill joined him. —

“Cayuse has got his work cut out for him looking for
Donovan’s girl.”

“Dot vos a mysdériousness.”

“My idea is, Schnitz,” said Pawnee, “that she jumped
out of the stage while the horses were running away, and
fled into the mesquite, where she dropped in a faint, and
those troopers under Brady couldn’t find her.”

“Cayuse can kvick findt oudt oof dot iss so; also-o he
can find out oof idt iss not so. Budt idt means dot him
unt Nomadt aind’t going to be fighting by our sites vhen
ve make dhis adwancemendt.”

Kicking Bird uttered another low whoop.

“He is snagged himselluf by somet’ings else against
now,” said the baron. i

But it interested him so little that he went on filling and
lighting his big pipe.

When Kicking Bird came up with the scout, they saw
that he had found a box of green paint.

“Tdt iss nodt mooch,” said the baron, “unless you shouldt
vandt to make green stribes by your face on, like an
Inchun.”

It was the thing Kicking Bird proceeded to do: and when
“he had performed the operation to his satisfaction and
took a look at himself in a little mirror that he drew out
of his blanket, he was pleased with the operation, if no
one else was. ;

“Maj Lil,” he said, and turned to Pawnee.

“Sceoot-a-wah-boo!” shouted Pawnee, when he saw that
Kicking Bird desired to stripe his face, too.

Kicking Bird indicated that he had other head feathers,
and produced them; and he pointed to Pawnee’s blanket
roll. Then he unfolded his brilliant idea. He and Pawnee
Bill were brothers now, and he wanted Pawnee to turn
hiriself as nearly as possible into an Indian for protection.

“Maybe I’ll wish that I had done so later,” said Pawnee
in English; “but right now I’ll pass it up. I hate to spoil
my beauty, Kicking Bird.”

The Pawnee stared; he did not understand all the words,
but he understood the meaning, and it was a surprise to
him that any one would not want to put paint on his face
and feathers in his hair when he struck the war trail.

“Heap big fightin’,” he said in his best English. “Wan-
deroo and Fiery Eye got kill gun now, and. make heap
_ big fight.”

 

BILL WEEKLY.

As Pawnee would not submit to the application of the
paint and feathers, Kicking Bird produced a bag of weasel
skin in which were some Mexican beans and an object-of
horsehair shaped like a black: spider. en te

In Pawnee this time he informed his new pard that when
he had been the close friend of Wanderoo the medicine
man had given him this charmed weasel-skin medicine bag,
and that its use tended to ward off ali danger.

He rubbed it over his body, shook it loudly to scare off
bad spirits, rubbed it over his horse, then turned again to
Pawnee. ; ;

“Ail right; go ahead,” said Pawnee.

Gravely Kicking Bird passed the weasel skin over the
arms and shoulders of Pawnee Bill.

“Make um heap safe,” he said; “kill gun mebbyso no
can git um.”

He looked at the scout and the baron.

“Necarnis, this redskin is going to feel a heap dis-
appointed if you don’t let him make his fetish powwow
over you. It will hearten him if you will let him, and the
same to the baron.”

Kicking Bird thereupon was permitted to make every
member of the party, as well as their animals, impervious
to bullets, lances,. Indian knives and hatchets, and even
proof against the spirits and fiends of the air. | ie

“Let a red have his way,” said Pawnee, “if you expect
him to be any good when the fighting pinch comes. That
Indian will walle up to that machine‘gun without flinching
- batting an eye, sure that none of its bullets can touch

im.”

There was a disagreeable duty to perform before: they
could go on, and they had held back from it.

The three dead troopers had to be buried.

Letters and papers on them gave their names.

When the burial was over and the graves marked with
stones for future identification, Buffalo Bill’s party stood
ready to take the trail of Wanderoo’s warriors...

“Four men in pursuit of more than’fifty,” said the scout
as they set out. “If the Pawnees had no prisoners we'd

’ back-track and get help.”

He had a feeling that no time was to be lost, and he
drove a courageous pursuit in spite of the overwhelming
numbers of the Pawnees.

The trail freshening after a time, he sent Kicking Bird
on before to survey the land.

The Pawnee brave flickered joyfully out of sight on his
spotted mustang, his lance at rest.

For two miles he pushed on and struck the low ground
forming the bottom lands of Trout Creek.

Not long before a fire had rushed over the land and

destroyed all the grass; but it had sprouted again, so that

everywhere there was a coat of green. Even the willows
by the stream had shot up new shoots from their roots
and waved green leaves in the breeze.

Apparently there was not a spot in which a man could
hide himself, much less hide his pony; though a man might
have crouched in concealment behind one of the new wil-
low clumps.

Kicking Bird kept well off from the willows, and went
on, reading the trail he followed. \

Suddenly he found himself trapped in a place where it
had seemed no trap could be.

CHAPTER VII.
THE MEDICINE MAN AND THE DESPERADO.

Old: Wanderoo, it has been seen, was an Indian of
exceptional shrewdness. Using it unscrupulously, he had
gained power over the Pawnees. His native wit had in-
formed him that the green stones unearthed by Fiery Eye
were valuable, and he was not deceived by the white man’s
pretension that he had been digging merely for earthworms.

Nor was he greatly surprised when it was discovered
that Fiery Eye had sneaked out of the village in the night
and fled.

‘Nevertheless, Wanderoo was angered. Then his dis-
trust of the white man, harbored from the first, came to
a head; he began to think that Fiery Eye had come to the
Pawnee village solely for the purpose of. spying on it,
and that now he was hurrying off to the white men with:
his gathered information. ‘

 

 

 

 
 

 

  

 

  

NEW? BURPALO

So old Wanderoo girded his loins and set out in pursuit,
with a band of warriors to help him if it came to a fight
with the white man.

But as Bob Dalton, called Fiery Eye by the Pawnees,
had a good start, and had the double incentive of fear and
greed to spur him on, the Pawnees who hit his trail did
not come up. with him as soon as they expected.

In fact, Dalton gained the stage trail and had his rather
remarkable experiences in the stagecoach and afterward,
before Wanderoo’s warriors brought him to bay.

At the time, the desperado had changed his clothing for
that of a pony soldier who had chased him and whom he
had shot. The dress, hat, and veil taken from Bess Don-
ler suit case had been thrown away, with the suit case
1pSCLE,

‘The soldier’s belt of cartridges, his revolver, and. his
cavalry carbine were in Dalton’s possession; also a pouch
of tobacco and a pipe, a pocketknife, a small sum of money,
and a deck of playing cards.

Essentially a gambler, as well as a thief and murderer,
Dalton had the gambler’s belief in “luck,” and he believed
that fortunes could be told with cards.

So, with the soldier’s gray blanket on the ground, he
was squatting in peace after his slick get-away, and while
resting was trying with the cards to forecast the future.

“The jack of hearts is the card that stands for me,” he
reflected, as he shed them from his nimble fingers; “and
when the jack o’ hearts is followed that way by the ten
of diamonds it means money for me. Foller the jack with
spades, or even clubs, and it means the contrary—old luck
is putting his feet under him and making a hurry hustle
to leave me.”

He spread the cards on the blanket in the order they
had fallen, and considered them in their relationship to
each other.

“King of spades ought to stand for old Wanderoo,” he
muttered, “and jack of clubs is right after him, with the
ten o’ clubs next; that’s a funny deal. Who in thunder
is the jack o’ clubs?” a

He shuffled the cards and dealt them again.

_“T reckon that ten o’ diamonds, standin’ for money and
wealth, will stand for the emeralds, too; and here it’s
still hanging close to me—jack o’ hearts. Old luck is -

As once before, he. heard a step behind him.

“Huh!” a deep voice grunted.

Clutching at his revolver—the trooper’s weapon—he
whirled his body round, without rising, and saw old Wan-
deroo, this time pointing a revolver at him.

“Huh!” the medicine man grunted again.

Dalton’s fiery eyes glared and his mouth dropped open.

“What in—thunder!”

“Fiery Eye make um run away,’ said Wanderoo.

Dalton’s scattered wits got into gear at a jump.

“Sit.down,” he said, motioning, “and tuck away that
shooting iron before you damage yourself. I didn’t run
away.

‘Wanderoo hesitated, but obeyed the order, and a confab
began which can only be accurately translated by putting
it into a semblance of decent English.

“My warriors are back there,’ Wanderoo confided, “so
my brother will be wise if he does not try to get away
again.”

“Again? Then you do not know why I came out here?”

“Wanderoo does not know, except that my brother was
in a hurry to leave the village with the green stones.”

“In one sense you are right. I wanted to get away with
the green pieces, of stone, for I meant to sell them, and
with the money buy cartridges for the kill gun that my
brother has.” ;

Wanderoo’s face was skeptical.

“T got into the stage that goes from Pagoda Springs to
‘Cimarron Crossing. But pony. soldiers.came to get me,
and I jumped out of the stage and ran away.”

Wanderoo had been eying the trooper’s clothing on
Dalton, and the gray blanket and the cards.

“One of the pony soldiers who followed me I shot and
killed and took the things he had. You can find his body
by following my trail back about five miles.”

“We have already found the body of the pony soldier,
and one of my braves is now carrying the pony soldier’s
scalp.” a :

 

  

' weapon.

 

 

WHERE Y. cla

pil

“That helps out my story—will help you to believe it,
for you can see that if I was a friend of the pony soldiers
I would not kill one of them and they would not chase
me.

“T have no friend but Wanderoo,” he added, “and the
Pawnees are my brothers; soon I shall be chased even into
Wanderoo’s village by the white men who would slay me.
If, when that happens, the kill gun has bullets, the white
men can be driven away; but if it has none, the white,men
will take me and hang me and will slay the Pawnees.
Does my red brother now understand why I wanted to go
and seli the green stones for cartridges, and wanted all
the stones for that purpose?”

“But Fiery Eye sneaked away in the night!”

“Because | knew you would not. let me go—you would
not have believed then what I am telling you now; you
would have thought I was like other white men and was
anxious to reach them.”

Wanderoo looked at him steadily.

“If my brother is using the tongue of a serpent it will
sting him to death later,’ he threatened.

“Tet Wanderoo listen; let him open his ears wide. Did
not he and his warriors see that where the pony soldiers
was killed there were signs of a great fight?”

“My brother says well—there had been a fight.”

“He rode me down, for I was on foot and he was
mounted. When I tried to shoot him, my revolver missed
fire,” oe

He drew it out. It was the Pawnee weapon he had
taken from the village.

‘Tt is rusty, and it would not fire,’ he explained. ‘The
pony soldier tried to shoot me, but his horse stumbled and
fell, for I got it by the bridle. Then the pony soldier
was pitched to the ground. That made him lose his re-
volver, and when I jumped on him neither of us had a
n, And”’—he breathed heavily—‘I killed the pony
soldier.

“But,” he added, “not at once. I spared him a while
to talk with him. And I made him tell me things I wanted
to know. I threatened him, and made promises, so that
‘he fold me; and then I shot him with jhis own revolver
and took what I wanted—all but the horse; that got away.”

“My warriors have the horse,” said Wanderoo compla-
cently. a

He liked the description given by Dalton of his conduct
—it was so Indianlike!

“Now, listen; let Wanderoo open his ears. One of the
things the pony soldier told me is that the wagon with
bullets for the guns of the pony soldiers at Fort Stanton
will be on the Black Rock Trail to-morrow afternoon.

“So,” he added, smiling, “it will not be necessary for
Fiery Eye to sell the green stones and buy bullets for the
little kill gun; they can be had by capturing the bullet
wagon at Black Rock. My red brother knows where that
is, and he has told me that his warriors are now close by.
It will be easy, and I will go with him; and so I will prove
to him that I am his friend and the enemy of all white
men.”

Wanderoo sat thinking, his hand on the revolver tucked
out of sight beneath his blanket.

“Is my brother sure there will not be an ambuscade of
pony soldiers at Black Rock, waiting for Wanderoo and
his braves?”

“T have spoken the truth.”

“Tt would mean that Fiery Eye would die there at Black
Rock!”

“I accept that; kill me if you find that I am lying to
rou.” 7 a
: “Wanderoo might be slain there, but not all of his braves
would be slain, and they would sting Fiery Eye to death
with their knives.”

“Let it be.so; kill me there if I have lied in this thing.”

“Wanderoo will believe his brother—while his eyes are
on him.”

He glanced at the cards.

“What does my white brother with the cards, when there
is no one to play against?” he demanded. -

“You don’t know ?? :

“There must be something to win—a pony, a squaw, or
a gun or blanket—and some one to win it from.”

    
NEW BUFFALO

12

“The cards,’ explained Dalton, “tell: what is going td
come to pass.”

Wanderoo squirmed forward and stared at the cards.

. “What do they tell?” he asked.

Dalton began an explanation, shuffled and cut the cards,
dealt them in piles, picked up a pile and slipped the cards
through his fingers. When he had looked at them he

spread the handful on the blanket.

“Ah!” he said, his fiery eyes increasing their glitter,
“We are together here. .This card, . the jack of hearts,
stands for me; this one, the king of spades, stands for
you; and right after us come diamonds—the ten—the
seven-spot—and the five and the ace; they mean, crowd-
ing us so, that we are to be successful.”

Wanderoo became so interested that for an hour he
and the white man he had set out to slay as soon as he
found him bent over the cards and the gray blanket, while
Dalton slipped the cards through his fingers and “told
fortunes.”

While it was going on Dalton spoke of the girl who
had been in the stage when he got out and the horses ran
away.

“They could not find her,” said Wanderoo, surprising
him, “and we could not find “her,”

“What is that?” said Dalton.

Wanderoo said it again, with many motions.

Dalton whistled.

“That’s funny. What do you make of it?”

Wanderoo did not know what to make of it.

st should like to hunt for her when the pony soldiers
are gone.’

“They will not go away, for the young chief of the pony
soldiers is crazy and continues to hunt.”

“You must have been close to them?”

“Not Wanderoo and his braves—only Panther Foot, the
scout.
young chief’s eyes while he tore down the mesquite and
made his search.”

Dalten whistled again.

“My white brother is thinking he would like to have her -

for his squaw?”

Dalton flushed and laughed.

“If my brother becomes a true Pawnee, he can take one
_ of the squaws of the Pawnees.”

“Td just like to see what has happened to her.
out there, I ‘think, hiding from the pony soldiers,
knowing that they are her friends searching for her.”

He ran the cards again to see the fate of the queen of
hearts. But somehow he could not coax the queen of
hearts to come close to the card he had chosen for him-
self; but always the queen of hearts got close to the ten
of diamonds.

“Cards are queer things,” he muttered; “but of course
if they tell fortunes, why, they’re bound to run just the
way that they have to go, and you can’t make ’em do
otherwise.”

But he was not pleased hau he pulled the pack together
and put it away.

' Wanderoo was ready to call up his warriors and tell
them of the wagon of bullets that was to go to Fort
Stanton by the Black Rock Trail.

She is
not

CHAPTER: VILE
THE KNIFE TARGET.

Having trapped and destroyed the ammunition wagon
and its guard of troopers—three of the troopers and the
driver being prisoners, and three troopers slain—old Wan-
deroo determined to repeat the operation on whoever came
in pursuit.

That was how it came about that Kicking Bird, follow-
ing the lowlands of Trout Creek, fell into Wanderoo’s
hands; for he was the first to push on along Wanderoo’s
trail.

_The crafty braves had painted themselves as green as
the new grass; and, lying flat on it, their only concealment
being the grass tufts behind which they hid their heads,
they had been mistaken for the lumpy elevation that
abounded in the “bottoms,”

He was so close he could see the crazy shine of the ©

BILL -WEEKLY.

Keen-eyed and watchful as Kicking Bird thought him-
self, he was in their midst and they were rising round
him before he discovered his mistake.

He let drive with his lance at the one “wha epaoed to
the head of the mustang; but the weapon was avoided,
and then it was snatched out of his hand.

Ringed in by lifted lances, and unable to drive the mus-
tang on, his hand dropped away from the revolver he was
trying to draw.

Then, while the mustang struggled and the braves yelled
at him, he folded his arms on his broad breast and stared
round at them,

“My old friends the Pawnees are children,”

“or now that they have me they would kill me.’

He saw that Two Feathers was the subchief in command,
and he knew that Wanderoo must be near; and they were
now his deadly enemies, so the thing he feared was tor-
ture, and he preferred a sudden death.

Instead of striking him with the lance, they pulled him
from the back of the mustang.

“The serpents that were once my brothers make them-
selves into green snakes,” he derided; “but the green snake
is always a coward and will not strike.”

Still, while making this sneering statement, he was in-
wardly admiring the craft that had set that green coating
on them which had concealed them so well.

“Kicking Bird is a fool,” retorted Two Feathers, “or he
would have seen us; the grass here is no thicker than
the hair on a man’s hand, yet he trode blindly among us.’

“Two. Feathers is wiser than Manitou!” mocked Kicking
Bird. “When he dies there will not be even enough
knowledge left in the world for the grass to grow.”

A black look swept across the subchief’s face at the
moment. But for fear of Wanderoo he would have struck
the defiant warrior with a lance.

“When he howls in the torture splints which Two Feath-
ers will set on him, Kicking Bird will remember this!” he
threatened.

’ Kicking Bird spat at him.

“Tf Two Feathers were not a coward he would ‘strike
now! He calls himself a chief, yet he has to wait for
the word of the old man, Wanderoo.”

He was still as defiant when he was conducted before
Wanderoo, where the main body of the warriors was
gathered, and the white desperado in their midst.

At first Kicking Bird did not see Bob Dalton to know
him, even though “he looked for him; for Dalton had been
painted and feathered by the Pawnees to resemble thern,
and had round him a Pawnee blanket, with Pawnee moc-
casins on his feet.

“The white serpent mixing with the green snakes of the
Pawnees,” sneered Kicking Bird. “It is a foul nest of
squirmers, but they have no fangs!”

Wanderoo began to question him,

“Take me into the village,” said Kicking Bird, “ahd put
me to the torture there, if you dare, for there: | have yet
a few friends.”

“Kicking Bird does not answer my questions,”
medicine man.

“He has no answer for Wanderoo.”

“Does he not fear the big medicine?” Wanderoo shot
at him.

Kicking Bird cowered_ inwardly, but maintained his
defiant air outwardly. He had never seen the true in-
wardness of the fountain of water which changed to fire.
And as for the other wonder which Wanderoo used to

frighten his followers, Kicking Bird had felt it; it was
a great stone of magnetic iron, possibly meteoric, to which
Wanderoo attached his enemies and those who defied him,
by a sheet of steel harnessed at the victim’s back so that
the big magnet, holding the steel against its surface, held
the victim. The Pawnees did not “understand its power,
and they were terribly afraid of it. Kicking Bird could
never forget the awful hours of fear and pain he had spent
on the side of that great stone, from which he had been
rescued by the white men.

“Does he not fear the big medicine?” Wanderoo thun-
dered again.

But a brave must be brave, even in the face of death

he sneered,

said the

 
 

Be

ain eas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

| NEW

and torture, otherwise in his own estimation, as in the
estimation of his tribe, he is no better than a squaw or
a child,

So the untamed warrior, lifting his head proudly even

while: his nerves quivered, sent back his lie, with a ring”

of truth:

“No; Kicking Bird does not fear the big medicine.
Even though it kill him, he fears it not.”

Wanderoo’s eyes twinkled. He liked the showing of a
courageous spirit, even though he could hate the one who
manifested it.

He dropped the subject and began to ask about the white
men, accusing Kicking Bird of having joined them and
seeking to betray the Pawnees into their hands.

Again Kicking Bird lied; he declared he knew nothing
of the white men.

“Has he not been with them?”

“No,” said Kicking Bird.
you drove me out of it, even though I have some friends
there wie: and I was wandering round when I ran into
this trap.’

“Was not Kicking Bird following our trail?”

“He saw it was a Pawnee trail, and thought perhaps
some of the Pawnees were his old friends.”

ws has not seen Pa-e-has-ka and the pony soldiers?”

ce oO. a9

Wanderoo pointed to the four prisoners.

“We have three of the pony soldiers and the driver of
the bullet wagon, and the others we slew when they tried
to fight us. e shall take them to the village. Kicking
Bird does not fear to go with them, and with them feel
the grip of the witch stone?”

“Kicking Bird does not fear.”

“He was not with the white men?”

FONE ut?

“And he does not fear?”

“No hide

Wanderoo beckoned, and Two Feathers slid forward,

green as the grass—even his hair and his moccasins were

green, and his two feathers were missing.

“Kicking Bird does not fear,” said Wanderoo..
him.”

Set against a mesquite, to which he was also bound,
Kicking Bird faced the knives in the hands of some of the

ot ry

best knife throwers of the tribe—all his enemies, and led.

by: Two Feathers.

“Kicking Bird does not fear!” sneered, Two Feathers,
and shot a knife at the Pawnee’s head.

It missed apparently by a hair’s breadth, and stuck in
the mesquite, quivering against his scalp.

“Kicking Bird does not fear!” said another, and the
a knife hissed through the air, landing beside the
rst

“The Pawnee snakes have not learned how to throw
knives,” Kicking Bird yelled at them. “They could not
strike the side of a tepee; now see if they can strike the
head of Kicking Bird.”

“The head of Kicking Bird is too small,” said Two
Feathers, shooting out his second knife, “or we could

hit it. There are no brains in it, to give it bigness.”

But the knife seemed to go in closer than those before,
if possible, thought it still did not draw blood.

They placed a shield behind the tree and drove knives
at the Pawnee’s body, ringing it in with glittering blades ;
but still he taunted them, crying out that they had not
learned how to throw knives—that snakes could not be
expected to learn an art like that, and that if by chance
they should cause his flesh to bleed, the sight of the blood
— cause them to faint, they were so cowardly and
wea

For half an hour or more they tortured him, ‘but he
did not flinch, even when one of the knives cut through

the skin at the side of his neck close to the jugular. To
the end he continued to taunt them.
- Two Feathers would have slain him then, but Wan-

deroo’s will was otherwise, and_ they removed the cords
that held him to the mesquite. The shield behind him had
been slit to pieces.

The strain of the terrible ordeal had been so great that

   

BUFPALO

  

“I left the village because

   

BITT, WEERLY. 13

  

Kicking Bird’s knees weakened under him when the sup-
porting thongs fell away; but he managed to sit down
without too great a display of his weakness.

“Now that the green snakes have shown they have no
fangs,” he said, “the warrior whom they have so vainly
tried to bite will smoke a pipe in peace if the great Wan-
deroo will permit it.”

In admiration of his superb courage, the old medicine
man gave him the pipe. And Kicking Bird, after striking
sparks into the filled bowl with a hand that did not shake,
smoked away as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Bravo!” one of the white men called ‘unguardedly.

The answer was a blow in the.face, tumbling him back-
ward—the blow delivered by the angry subchief.

“Let the white dog be dumb!” screamed Two Feathers.

In their green paint, the Pawnee warriors who had cap-
tured Kicking Bird lay for hours in hiding, hoping that
Buffalo Bill and his friends would walk into the same trap.

Their approach had been discovered; but the scout’s
party did not come on, or had taken another course.

The ambush was maintained until nightfall; then, with
the main body concealed in some mesquite on the hills -
above the stream, scouts were sent out to locate the white
men.

Kicking Bird had been given no food, and he was weak
and weary. But he did not close his eyes in sleep; not
because he looked for rescue, but because he feared the
grip of the witch stone that had once held him. The
shadow of the terrible thing murdered sleep.

He heard the warriors talking, and now and then heard
a word from one of the white men bound near him.

Buffalo thongs were on his arms and legs, and a turn
of buffalo-hide rope went round his body and round a
mesquite.

Scouts came and went, reporting to Wanderoo; and he
tried to ‘hear what they said, for that took his mind from
his situation.

One of the scouts who came in was Panther Foot

Panther Foot was one of the craftiest of the Pawnee
scouts, and much relied on by Wanderoo. Time and again
Wanderoo had sent him:even into the towns of the white
men, and to Fort Stanton itself, and he had poked round
successfully, disguised sometimes as a Ponca or a Kiowa
or as a member of whatever tribe happened at the time
to be in the vicinity and on terms of friendliness with the

white men.

There had been a time when Panther Foot and Kicking.
Bird were good friends, But on this day Panther Foot
had shown not the least sign of friendly interest when the
knives were biting at Kicking Bird’s head and body. In
fact, once Kicking Bird had been jeered at by him.

So Kicking Bird had set Panther Foot down as one of.
his enemies—a‘ natural thing when it is remembered that
Panther Foot was one of Wanderoo’s reliable and faith-
ful braves—and did not expect any help from him.

But it was Panther Foot who came to Kicking Bird’s
aid,
For half an hour or more after Panther Foot had made
his report and Kicking Bird supposed he was asleep in his
blanket, nothing was heard of him.

Then Kicking Bird heard something rustle by his side
and heard his name breathed.

Low as the voice was, he recognized it as Panther
Foot’s.

“Panther Foot is still the friend of Kicking Bird,”
whispered.

Kicking Bird felt a knife cutting the cords on his wrists;
then he felt it sever the buffalo-hide rope and the thongs
on his legs.

The ‘kwife was thrust into his hand: Following it was
a revolver, then a belt of cartridges.

“The water is below, and the mustangs are ene let
Kicking Bird carry away the cut thongs so that there ‘will
be left no witness.”

The voice failed, the ioiy of Panther Foot moved, aiid
he was gone.

Kicking Bird lay on his back, unable for a moment
to believe the good fortune that had come to him when
he had not cherished a hope.

But he did not remain idly staring at the sky long,

was

    
1 NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY.

Lifting his head, he listened. Two of the white men were”

talking in a low grumble, and farther off could be heard
the tones of Pawnee warriors. There was no fire, and,
though there were.a few stars, the night was dark.
Rolling over softly, Kicking Bird put the webbed belt
of cartridges round his waist, tucked in the revolver and
knife, and was ready.

CHAPTER IX,
PULLING THE TEETH OF THE BITING DOG.

Kicking Bird’s first thought was to get out of the Paw-
nee night camp as quickly and quietly as he could.

So he began to crawl off in the direction of the river.

The darkness of the night, promising to aid him, also
hindered him; he did not know just how the sleeping war-
riors were disposed.

Seeing a dark shape before him, he stopped and clutched
the knife that Panther Foot had slipped into his hand;
for his first thought was that the dark outline represented
a crouching guard.

Soon he was convinced that it was a stump; but on get-
ting up to it he discovered that it was the hand-organ
machine gun, propped against a mesquite. He had come
near knocking it down, and he stood rooted in silence to
discover if the slight noise made had reached the ears
of any one.

Off on his right he heard the moccasined feet of a camp
guard; with that exception, the camp was still. :

The impulse to capture the gun and bear it off with him
came to him strongly, but he did not want to be hampered
with it if pursued; he would then have to throw it away.

What seemed a better thought struck him then. He
knew that cartridges for it had been obtained from the
ammunition wagon. And in the village he had seen the box
opened and the gun manipulated; he thought he under-
stood something of the mechanism—enough for his pur-
pose.

There was a spring catch by which the organ box could
bé opened, and this he found. Inside was a coffee-mill
arrangement in which the cartridges were held and fed
to the gun. It was crammed with cartridges. ‘ Very_care-
fully he took them out, one by one.

Beside the queer weapon was a pile of cartridge boxes,
which he judged were filled with cartridges. They were
heavy, anyway, and he found that they rested on a strip
of buckskin, one end of which had been drawn over them
for protection from the night dampness.

With as much care as he had used in taking the car-
tridges out of the gun, he folded the cartridge boxes in
the buckskin.

When he had them ready for carrying, he scraped to-
gether a handful of sand and thrust it into the machinery
of the gun; then he closed the box, took the buckskin
and its load of cartridge boxes in his arms, and continued
his cautious flight.

When he got down to the river he waded out for the
purpose of breaking his trail and also that he might be
able to drop the cartridges into deep water, as he found
the load too heavy to carry.

He sank them without a splash, and most.of those he
chad taken from the gun, retaining a few to show to
Pa-e-has-ka as some sort of evidence of what he had
accomplished.

For some time after disposing of the cartridges he stood
in the water to his waist, listening for sounds in the
Pawnee camp. ; :

Though the water was chill, his body felt feverish; he
was still suffering from the nerve strain of the afternoon,
‘and was now in a state of high-keyed excitemem@™

Yet no one could have guessed it, for apparently as he
stood listening he was as unemotional and nerveless as
a statue.

An undying hatred of Two Feathers and the braves who
had hurled their knives at him that afternoon burned in
his heart; and he hated Wanderoo, who had permitted it,
aud who had given him to the torture of the witch stone.
Back in the Pawnee village he knew he had friends, and
the action of Panther Foot had shown him that he also
had friends in this band of Pawnee warriors. So he
thought of the time when Wanderoo and his other foes

would be dead—slain, he hoped, by the white men—and
he could rally his friends round him and come again into
his own. He was determined to do what he could to hasten
its speedy coming.

Not ‘léng did the crafty warrior tarry, for time was
precious. He had definitely decided against attempting to
get a mustang out of the herd. The Pawnee mustangs

‘were notoriously skittish and man shy. So sinking his

body until only his head was above the surface, he began
to swim the stream.

- Instead of landing when he came near the other shore,
he turned downstream and kept on until he was tired;
then he climbed out.

Finally he found the trail made by the Pawnee mustangs,
and, setting his feet into it, he hastened on as fast as he
could go,

Hearing a sound when two miles out, he dropped to
the ground. A Pawnee scout passed him like a gliding
shadow and went on toward the Pawnee camp.

This seemed proof that the white men were still ahead
of him, and he went on for another two miles.

Still without knowledge of the location of the white
men, he tried to find them by uttering a wolf howl that
was a degree off; but there was no response, and again

he went on.

Daybreak came, and the position of the white men was

- still unknown to him. He climbed a knoll and looked

about.
' “Pa-e-has-ka has gone away,” he thought, voicing his
fear. :

So again he took to the mustang trail and pushed on,
with backward glances to assure himself that pursuers
were not in sight.

The trail mounted from the bottom land to the flanking
ridges, where there was a good deal of mesquite, wnen
there were any trees at all, and short grass when there
were no trees.

Thén in the distance behind him he saw moving objects,
and knew that Pawnees were following him.

Still he had not much fear of being taken by them;
the mesquite offered good hiding ground. But he flung
backward glances, and as a result he did not see the round-
bodied white man whose gray clothing blended so har-
moniously with the gray of the rock he was hiding behind,
until the man called to him. That brought Kicking Bird
up with a sharp jerk of alarm.

“Vot iss?” a heavy voice exploded. =

The rotund form of the baron came into view.

The Pawnee dropped a hand to his revolver before he
saw that the man was one of Buffalo Bill’s party.

“Yoost you valk oop mitout me being afraidt oof. you,”
said the baron, juggling his revolver to his left hand and
rising.. “You are der Inchun vot vos mit us by yester-
day, aind’t idt?”

He extended a fat hand.

“Ve are tinking dot der odder Inchuns haf ketched you
yet alreadty.”

““Pa-e-has-ka,” said Kicking Bird.

“Dot. iss Cody. Vale, he aind’t here. Aber me, I am
here; unt so iss Bawnee; budt he aind’t yoost righdt here,
neidher. You haf seen der odder Inchuns, huh?”

“See plenty Pawhee,” returned Kicking Bird.

“Yoost you come by me, oof you vandt to connect mit
Bawnee,” the baron invited. “Cody he is oudt scoudting
to see,oof anypoty can seen him or he can seen, anypoty;
but Bawnee he iss pack here yedt.”

He led the way over the slope and through the mesquite
to another rocky ridge, where they found Pawnee Bill, at
the moment enjoying the fragrance of a good cigar.

Immediately Kicking Bird began to tell him of his un-
pleasant and adventurous experience. And he produced
the few cartridges he had brought.

“You're the real goods,” said Pawnee, breaking into
English as he handled the cartridges. “Necarnis is going
to like this.”

“Pawnee warriors have followed me,” said Kicking Bird.

“T sighted them from here a while ago.”

He picked up his field glasses and handed them to the
Pawnee.

“Try it with these,’ he invited, and explained how they

were to be used,

 
 

 

BERS

 

NEW BUFFALO

i ‘ ‘ ci m
It was comical to see the look that sprang to the face
of the Pawnee when the band of warriors were drawn
so close to him. He lowered the glasses with a cry of
amazement, and was. more astonished than ever to see
that the warriors had dropped again to their proper dis-

tamice.

His first thought had been that they were near, and it
had frightened him; but now, realizing that it had been
the effect of the glasses, he was afraid of them.

“Heap bad medicine,”. he said, and cast them from him,

Pawnee Bill picked ‘them up ‘with a. laugh.

“Pa-e-has-ka,” he explained, “has sighted a band: noe
pony soldiers and has gone out to connect with them and
swing them in here. We think that news of this fresh
outbreak and the destruction of the ammunition wagon
has reached Fort Stanton, and the pony soldiers have been
sent out. We'll see about that in a little while.  Pa-e-

~has-ka has met them; they’re all out of sight now behind

that ridge, but are coming this way. So if those warriors

‘come near in pursuit of you, we'll give them a surprise.”

He sat down and began to ask questions and gleaned
all the information that Kicking Bird had.

“We'll have to remember Panther Foot,” he said, “and
save him from the general Pawnee killing that seems to
be. coming. Old Wanderoo has broken his word time and
again, and is determined to lave war; I think he will now
be accommodated.”

Unfortunately for the success of the plan he began at
once to formulate for the capture of the pursuing band,
the keen-eyed warriors sighted the pony soldiers and
wheeled their mustangs about when still a good: two miles
away, and disappeared in the direction of the Pawnée camp.

A little later the pony soldiers appeared, conducted by

“Buffalo Bill.

There were only ten of them, in command of Lieutenant
Sefton ; but they were well mourited and well armed and
anxious for a brush with the Pawnees.

They had not heard of the destruction of the ammu-
nition wagon, but had been sent out merely as a scouting

foree to discover the exact state of affairs in the Pawnee

country. .

Buffalo. Bill listened sympathetically to the story re-
counted by Kicking Bird, and praised him warmly for his
clevernéss in rendering the machine gun ineffective.

“OE course they may have other boxes of .38’s,” he ‘said,
“and may be able to get the gun in order; but this is a
big thing you have done, Kicking Bird.” :

He drew aside and consulted with the lieutenant.

“We're going to attack them where they are, without
waiting for reenforcements,” he announced at the end of
the conference. “With that machine gun out of business,
or nearly so, we ought to whip them easily, even if they
do greatly outnumber us.”

“Hoob-a-la !” cried the German.
vot iss suidting me.’

Within five minutes the troopers and Buffalo Bill's
friends were moving down into the Pawnee ‘trail.

Their faces were, not set in the direction of Santa Fe,
but they were traveling south and a hot time was ex-
pected.

“Old Wanderoo has broken his word so many times that
he can’t be believed any more. If he could be captured
and sent away, I think the Pawnees would quiet down,”
said Pawnee Bill.

“He'll never be a good Indian until he’s a dead one,”
commented Sefton.

“Speaking of that white man, Archibald Stepson Jones,
who stole away the machine gun and the monkey and
kicked up Sam Hill the other time, what’s become of him,
anvhow ?” Pawnee asked.

“Pe disapptared, you know, after we. had routed the
Pawnees in their village; and T think he hasn’t been seen
since, We may discover ‘later that some Pawnee followed
him and killed nn, ” answered Cody.

“You told me,” said Sefton, “that he was. after that
emerald cache, the same as Bob Dalton ; but you didn’t
take much stock in that emerald story.”

“That was a queer thing—Jones and that desperado
both chasing after the emeralds. All we really know about
it is that Jones’ had a letter telling about the cache, which
he said a man named Brown had given him, and Dalton

“Idt iss der pitzness

Sefton;

ae ANE ECE as

‘dug up ‘the whole interior of old: Wanderoo’s medicine
‘lodge hunting for the cache, without finding it.

“Dalton: broke jail, and hit only the high places! chasing
away from civilization for safety. Theti he was located in
that ‘stage going to Cimarron Crossing, and made another

get-away, wearing clothing taken from Miss Donovan’s
suit case; that’s the way we heard it. So he must be out
here somewhere, We've got to look out for him, and
also for Jones, while we're about it.”

Pawnee dropped back into reflective silence.

“The strangest of anything, though,” remarked Sefton,
“where so many. things are PHAnBEs: is the disappearance
of Donovan's daughter.”

“Two of the best trailers on the border, old Nomad: and
Little Cayuse, have been sent to investigate that,” - Said
the scout:

“And Brady is out there, too, you told me; S0- you “may
be sure that. nothing: will be left undone. . Still, it puzzles

ie

Though they talked, and Pawnee Bill smoked aiid now
and then hummed snatches of song, the horses were kept
at. a brisk canter and the miles slipped under them... _

Having. learned, of Kicking Bird: how he had been
trapped, they kept a keen lookout for any queer. shapes
of green when they dropped into the Trout Creek. bottom
lands.

By nine o’clock they were aes to the mesquite ainpes
where the Pawnees had camped through the night, as they
were informed by Kicking Bird.
They’ ve seen us, of course, if they're there” oid
“but they. may have gone on, so I suggest that we
get out of sight here and do a little: prospecting.” ;

Only Pawnee Bill and Buffalo Bill went isewacd with

‘Kicking Bird. The -baron remained. with Sefton. and. the

pony soldiers, and the horses were held by them in a deep
ravine, where they could not be seen- from the Pawnee
trail or the surrounding hills,

On the crest of a ridge, after the departure of the scouts
and the. Indian, the baron took his stand—or, rather, his
seatwith a trooper by his side, and his rifle and long
pipe for additional company; then watched the approaches
and the surrounding country.

Kicking Bird led ‘the way without hesitation,

There was a place he knew where Trout Creek, now
again at a low stage, could be crossed by wading, and ‘they
headed. first. for that.

~ When they were across, they turned in the’ direction of
the mesquite which had harbored the Pawnee band through
the night.

But some of the Pawnees had been thrown out also
to scout and “feel” for the position of the foe; these were
under old Wanderoo himself, Turning a bend, the white
men and Kicking Bird confronted them, without either
party being previously aware of the other’s proximity.

The Pawnees had been down in the high grass, crawling
toward the creek; but they sprang up, and in the resultant
mutual surprise old Wanderoo delivered.a temporary

knock-out blow to. Pawnee Bill.

Instead of firing his revolver, he threw it at Pawnee’s
face, and when Pawnee ducked to avoid it the revolver
pounded him on the head.

As Pawnee Bill tumbled backward, Buffalo. Bill: and
Kicking Bird rushed to help him, when the Indians under
Wanderoo broke and fled.

They were quickly out of sight down in the grass again,
twenty or more yards away, the switching of the grass
revealing their frantic scramble for places of safety...

Buffalo Bill, after sending a shot at them to hurry. them
along, turned to»Pawnee, who had dropped as if dead.
And Kicking Bird, imitating the other Pawnees, fell to

‘cover inthe grass,

Pawnee came round as Buffalo Bill began to shower him
with water from his canteen.

“Let up, necarnis,’ he sputtered.
drown me?”

Buffalo Bill pulled out his pocket flask.

“Have a nip of this?” . = ;

Pawnee sat up dazedly and waved. it ete a Api

“Save it for serious emergencies—stiake: bite. and - the
like. Pm all right, Pard Bill.”

“You hardly look it. That was a heavy blow.”

“Are you trying to

 
 

   

16 NEW BUFFALO

“Tyst a playful tap, necarnis,” Pawnee panted. “T

dropped backward to keep him from hitting me again—

see?”

He tried to laugh, and sat up straighter.

“But you're still dizzy?” ~

Pawnee stared at the flying land$’cape—it was spinning
round him—winked to clear his eyes, and looked again.

“Tt’s the ground that’s dizzy,” he said, “and you, too,
Pard Bill; if you'd stand still I think I could see you bet-
ter.” He put his hand to his head. “Deserted Jericho,
but that was a fearful rap!”

Kicking Bird poked up his head and squirmed nearer. '

“Me foller um?” he said, his eyes shining. “Me see
where um go.”

“Right-o! But look out that they don’t get you again,”
Cody told him. ne

“They’ye cut and run. I thought I heard you shoot, or
perhaps I imagined it—with a head like this, a fellow is
capable of imagining anything.”

“T sent a bullet to warn them that they were tarrying
unduly.”

“Then I did hear it. If the whole band had been down
here they might have gobbled us. This little remembrance
came from Wanderoo, I think.”

Buffalo Bill picked up the revolver that had dealt the
blow. -It was a cheap, pot-metal thing of the style that
traders palm off on the Indians.

“He thought,’ remarked the ‘scout, “that it would be
safer to use it as a club; it might have gone to pieces in
his hands if he had tried to fire if Of i

Snapping it open, he took out the cartridges, dropped
ae into his pocket, then thrust the revolver in after
them. cs
“When we teach that creek again,” he said, “I'll throw

the revolver into it; it’s not worth carrying.”

Kicking Bird had disappeared. nae

“That Pawnee pard of mine is all right in his. way,” said
Pawnee, “but he doesn’t come up to Little Cayuse.”

“Not many do.” Oe

He pulled his flask again and’ offered it, ‘but Pawnee
waved. it aside. © - Le 3

“In five minutes I’ll be all right again, so I don’t need
it.’ He put up his hand. “There’s a lump on my head big
as a hen’s egg now, and it’s still growing.”

For half an hour they waited for Kicking Bird, in which
time Pawnee Bill recovered so nearly that he-was. fit

again for riding or fighting.

Then the grass rustled and Kicking Bird came sliding
through it into view.’

“See anything?” Pawnee Bill asked. \

Kicking Bird reported that the Pawnee warriors were
on the ridge in the mesquite, with the little machine gun
trained to rake the lowlands below. Wanderoo was per-
sonally in command, aided by Two Feathers, and appar-
ently they meant to make a stand there.

“They're trusting to that gun,” said Buffalo Bill, ‘‘so
I judge they have cleaned it out and have more car-
‘tridges for it.”

“You didn’t see anything of that white man—Bob Dal-
ton?” said Pawnee.

“Him Pawnee brave now,” said Kicking Bird in English.

“In war paint and feathers, eh?”

“All same Pawnee brave.”

“Fle’s wise in that, all right, all right; for he knows that
some of the pony soldiers would pull on him first of all if
they could single him out.”

“Pa-e-has-ka and pony soldiers make um fight now?”
asked Kicking Bird, his eyes shining.

“You want to get a whack at the cowards who shaved

you so close yesterday?” laughed Pawnee.

He steadied himself and rose to his feet.
Indians near now, except Kicking Bird.

“What's the word, necarnis?”

“You're able to walk?”

“Lead off,.and you'll see me moving my legs like a
centipede.” a My
__ Nevertheless, Buffalo Bill took him by the arm, dropped
Kicking Bird back as rear guard, and helped Pawnee down
to the creek; for, though his mind was now ciear, and he

There were no

-the Pawnees, including Two Feathers.

 

BILL WEEKLY.

declared himself to be as good as new, his legs were weak

and wabbly.

At the creek they stopped to rest, then forded it and
reached the pony soldiers who were in waiting.

Half an hour later the stream was again crossed, with
Pawnee Bill once more in the saddle, and the advance on
the waiting warriors was begun. :

At the foot of the slope the horses were left in charge
of two men. Then the small party of white men were
divided into two bands. Buffalo Bill led one, with Pawnee, 5
accompanied by the baron, and Lieutenant Sefton led the
other.

There were just eleven pony soldiers, if Sefton is
counted, and in addition the two scouts, the baron, and
Kicking Bird, making fifteen in all, and they, had planned
a daring charge on more than. fifty armed warriors, the
best of the Pawnee braves, under the leadership of the
crafty old medicine man.

Buffalo Bill’s party attacked from the north, opening the
ball with a rattling of shots; then, like an echo, came.
the shouts of the pony soldier and shot from the other side.

Wanderoo had found more cartridges for his little
machine gun, and the coffee-mill cartridge feed was sup- —
posed to be in working order; but when he turned the gun
on Buffalo Bill and those who came leaping with him
through the mesquite, some of the sand which Kicking
Bird had dropped into the works got busy with the deli-
cate machinery and the machine gun refused to do its duty.

Old Wanderoo ground furiously at it, then gave it a
kick that knocked it over, and drew a revolver.

But the failure of the gun on which they had relied,
and. whose expected performance had given them courage
to make a stand, had thrown the Pawnee warriors into a
panic. Some of the bravest were firing rifles and revolv-
ers and hurling lances, but others had turned about and
were leaping away. ee

When Wanderoo saw this, his bravery being already
sapped by the failure of the gun, and he beheld the scout
rushing toward him, he fired a third shot, which cut
through the scout’s coat; then turned and fled with his
warriors.

As a runner old Wanderoo could have given a handicap
to a professional short-distance sprinter and beaten him
easily to the tape, so that his going was like the rush ol
a_ cyclone.

One of the troopers peppered at him as he disappeared
into the mesquite, but without effect.

Here and there a hand-to-hand combat between a Paw-
nee and a trooper was being settled, and a few Pawnees
under Two Feathers were trying to make a final stand at
the side of a-big rock.

But Two Feathers fell there, with a bullet through his
body, and his ‘backers scuttled away in the wake of Wan-
deroo.

It was a lively fight while it lasted, but the baron main-
tained afterward that it was entirely too short. He still
had a lot of cartridges in his belt which he had not been
able ‘to; use. :

Two of the pony soldiers had been killed, and six of
The Indian pony
herd, down by the creek, fell into the hands of the troop-
ers. Also the machine gun and a lot of revolvers, hatchets,
knives, and lances, with belts of cartridges.

When, the fight being ended, Pawnee had time to give
attention to the machine gun, he found that the little mon-
key, which had been lately used by old Wanderoo as a
mascot, was chained to it.

The little creature was on the ground beside the hand-
organ gun and was much frightened. But it became quict
and even reconciled to the change in its ownership when
Pawnee Bill soothed it.

A subsequent scouting purstiit by the pony soldiers re-
vealed that Wanderoo’s braves had fallen back toward the
Pawnee village, which was still lower down Trout Creek.

“He'll make another stand there,’ said Buffalo Bull.
“But | hope we can rout him out without having any men
killed.” :

The death of the two pony soldiers troubled him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
  
  
     
      
  
  
  

{

) one of them stage horses,

Wand Little Cayuse and the troopers
+ whose adventurous experiences
lected.

   
     
 
   
 
 
 

fas me an’ Cayuse has tackled recently.”
ing to Donovan.

i
ne

Sengers outside :
war yer daughter, an’ tother’n war this yaller-streake

‘scoundrel Bob Dalton, by all accounts.

ae

i eot inter gear and pawed ther country over.

NEW BUFFALO

CHAPTER X-
WITH OLD NOMAD AND LITTLE CAYUSE, -.

When Denver Donovan, alias the. Red-hot Poker, heard .
the news of his daughter’s singular disappearance,
"cycloned down the Pagoda Springs

he
Trail, with half a dozen
back, and so connected with old Nomad
under Lieutenant Brady
have been too long neg-

owboys at his

Donovan was in a much distracted frame of mind; yet

o more so than Brady. ;
“This yere has been as hard a problem,” said Nomad,

He was report-
“When we come hyar we finds Brady
her wildest cimarron thet ever pawed ther perairies, him

shackin’ hyar ah’ thar with-his pony soldiers, jest coverin’

”

round an’ l’arnin’ nothin’.
Brady was notthere when the old trapper reported to
onovan. | :

“Fust off,’ he went on, “me an’ Cayuse l’arned thet yer
al had been in ther stagecoach. Thar war two pas-
and two inside. One o’ ther two inside

me an’ Cayuse
Ther few
things we has found out Tll elucerdate. Dalton, et seems,
took clothes frum yer gal’s suit case and put ’em on; and
when the stage was helt up by the pony soldiers, who was

“When we had listened to everythigg,

) lookin’ fer him, he fooled ’em long ernough to let him git
) erway.

y
“Whilst doin’ of et he shot a hole through the year oO’
and ther hull four of ’em bolted,

yankin’ the stage along. Ther gal war in et then; Brady

© he had caught a glimp of her layin’ back ag’inst ther cush-
# ions as ef she had fainted.

} and the hosses down—ther gal

   

“Rit when ther stage war overtook—it bein’ smashed
warn’t in et, and no sign
of her. : ;

“Right thar is whar Brady and the pony
up er tree, an’ they ain't clim’ out of et yit.
hyar d’reckly, an’ can tell ye.” a

Nomad. motioned, and Little Cayuse pulled out of the
bushes Bessie Donovan’s suit case.

“We found this,” Nomad explained,
things ’bout which I'll norate ter ye.”

He opened the suit case and displayed its contents—
Bob Dalton’s cast-off clothing. ;

“Yer reckoned the gal’s clo’es, what she war kerrvit’
home with her, would be in this,” he said; “but this. is
what we found. Her clo’es, some of 'em, was found in
ther stage—her shoes, what she had been. kerryin’, we
thought, and other things. And some more of the clo’es
of her’n we found nigh the spot whar we lit onto the suit
case, as | told ve. Dalton made his git-away, w’arin’ ’em,
and when he didn’t want ‘em no more he jest throwed ‘em
away.

‘Te had killed one of the pony soldiers what follered.
him; and had tuck the clo’es of the pony soldier, likewise
his weapons and amminition, and his caballo.”

“But you don’t know what became of Bess?” said
Donovan.

“We-hev idees; ef correct er not, we don’t know.. I’m
comin’ ter thet now. _We found a good-many Pawnee
moccasin tracks; not right up by the trail and the stage-
coach, but clost ernough ter su’gest thet they may have
suthin’ ter do with et.”

“Pawnees!” gasped Donovan.

“Ym sorry ter say et, Donovan,
truth.”

“Nothing else,” said Donovan.

“One thing I can say: We don’t believe that yer gal
is dead. She may have been kerried off. by Pawnees.
Vit thar’s a cur’us thing still ter be mentioned. An hour
er so ago me and Cayuse found ther thing we has all
along been lookin’ fer, and thet is some tracks left by
yer gal.” Loe

“Go on,” said Donovan impatiently.

“Tt war a queer thing thet she could git away frum ther
stage without leaving some indercation of et, yet thet is
what she seemed ter have done.

soldiers went
But he'll be

“ond some otner

but you’re wantin’ ther

  

i

BILL WEERLY.

“We figgered that while ther hosses war runnin’ erway
she got skeered an’ jumped out; then in her bewilderment
run off inter ther bresh; an’ mebbyso keeled over in er
faint. But we couldn’t find nothin’ ter hold up ther idee-

“We war stupid in not figgerin’ thet she probably left
afier it had rammed inter them mesquites and —

the stage
aes stopped; but now et looks. as ef thet is what she.
one,” a

He motioned to -Cayuse to bring up the animals, on

picket ropes near by. --
“Ef you're willin’, Donovan,” he said, “we'll cache this
suit case right hyar.an’ leave et—thet is what we war goin’
ter do when you an’ yer cowboys come wind-jammin’ up
o us. “Er you can send et somewhar by one er the cow-
oys.
They were gathered round, sitting their horses, listen-
a but saying nothing, though their eyes and ears were
usy.
“Give it to Sam, there,” said Donovan, “and let him
cache it.’ Well, go on with your story.”
“Nothin’ else ter tell, much,” said Nomad, “ontil we:
‘has seen what we-come ercross a while back while Brady

and his pony soldiers war pirootin’ round in another place.”

But we'll go thar now, ef ye’re ready.”
“lm ready,’ said Donovan impatiently.
Nomad swung to the back of Hide Rack, and Little

Cayuse straddled his pinto. Donovan mounted, and he

and the cowboys followed while Nomad piloted along the

stage trail.

“Richt hyar,’ Nomad explained unnecessarily, for the
smashed stage was there, “is whar ther stage war wrecked,
and yer daughter couldn't be found. As I said, we had
figgered that she jumped out before ther stage got hyar.

But to-day, looking clost, out in them bushes we found

suthin’ that I will now show ye.”
Donovan paled a little when the trapper, dismounting,

led the way through the mesquite. a
“Thar!” said Nomad, stopping and pointing. .
“Tracks of her shoes,” said Donovan, his voice. suddenly

atremble. : mo
“So we made et out.

others.”
“The tracks of a man’s
‘‘Wey-rect ereim |. . es
Donovan followed the tracks a yard or two...
“Ther funny thing erbout this,” said Nomad,

Now, ef you look clost you'll see

shoes close beside them!”

‘as thet

 

“Tracks of that scoundrel Bob Dalton!” cried Donovan.

“We thought mebbyso thet war so at fust; but we has
found Dalton’s tracks. You'll reeklect.1 told ye so, and
his tracks aire a heap bigger than these.”

“Whose are these, then?”

“Thet’s ter be found out. As I war goin’ to remark,
ther funny thing erbout this is thet ye cain’t find them
tracks nigh the stagecoach—thet is, ye cain’t find her’n,
but we can find the t’other tracks back thar; we did when
we looked clost.” :

Donovan jumped back and looked at the ground close
by the stage. ;

“Another quar thing,” said Nomad, “is thet the tracks
© ther ‘man and the gal fade out when yer git a little
furder along. He tuck ter hard ground and throwed ther
scent.”

“What do you make of it?” said Donovan, his manner
anxious.

“} cain’t make nothin’ out er et but this: Ther girl war
unconscious when ther stagecoach went to poot, and, as
she seemed ter be layin’ back on ther cushions, et’s a ten
shot thet Dalton Had choked her so’t she knowed nothin’,
and when ther wreck come she was in thet same state.

“Then this man pulled her out o’ ther stage, kerried her
out this fur, and she comin’ to by thet time, he set her on
her feet, and them tracks o’ her’n appeared. Anyhow, et
seems evident thet she didn’t walk aawy from ther stage;
she couldn’t done.et and left no sign at all, whar ther
eround is reasonably soft, unless she had rolled down a
blanket before her and walked on thet, an’ et is plum’
reedic’lous ter hold thet opinion.”

“You couldn't find the tracks gf my daughter after they
were lost out there, nor the tracks of the man who seems
to have been with her, according to your theory?”
18 NEW BUFFALO

“Accordin’ ter ther. facts disclosed—not.my theory,”
-Nomad corrected. “No, we ain’t found ‘em—yit. We
ain't looked. We war waitin’ fer Brady ter come. back.
But you reached us fust, and so I'm tellin’ you. Brady
knows all erbout this, except erbout them tracks, which
me-and Cayuse has jest found recently.” ee

“You've. put me under a thousand obligations,” said
Donovan, “and you are going to gain my undying grati-
tude by what you still will do. We have got to find my
daughter, and no man in the world could do more along
that line than you can; your reputation - :

“'"Twar Cayuse connected up with them tracks fust,”
said Nomad, resolved to take no credit not his due. “Thet
Piute is plum’ a wonder when et comes ter gittin’ ther
snarls out of a trail tangle.”

When Lieutenant Brady came in, a few minutes later,

the imprints of small shoe tracks, held by Nomad to be
those of Bessie Donovan, were shown to him; also he
was given Nomad’s opinions,
Brady. was a handsome young trooper, who looked very
tired now, for he had been through sleepless and wearing
experience. He had fallen in love with Donovan's daugh-
ter, and had even shared with her a brief imprisonment
with the Pawnees. The mystery of her disappearance,
and. his efforts to solve it, with the concurrent emotional
‘strain, had told on him heavily.

With him, when he came in, were a few pony soldiers,
his present command.

Eagerly he went over the new evidence of Bessie Don-
‘Ovan's ‘presence at that point, with-her father and with
Nomad andthe -Piute. Mela a

“What I’m afraid of,” he said, “is that these man tracks
were not made by a white man, but by an Indian wearing
a white man’s shoes. A number of white men have been
killed by the Pawnees, first and last, since these disturb-
ances began, and the Indians have taken their shoes and
clothing.”

“Even if he is a white man,’ said Donovan, “he may
be the biggest scoundrel unhune.” an

‘It was the first opinion of Nomad and the Piute ‘that
the wearer of the shoe making the larger tracks was a
white man; they said he had not walked like an Indian.

But the trail of shoes played out on the hard slopes, as
has been said. It took more than an hour of close work
on the other side of the ridge to find the tracks again;
but a discovery was made, which Nomad pointed out.

“Somewhar up on thet ridge they hid,” he said, “fer ye
~-can see thet these tracks aire a whole lot fresher than
them on the other side. I’m cal’latin’ they stayed up thar
a long time.”

The Cayuse, skirmishing round, found Pawnee tracks,
but they seemed older than the shoe tracks.

“When this man went on with yer gal,” said Nomad
to Donovan, “she war walkin’ peart; ye can see thet by
ther len'th of her step; she war keepin’ right alongside
of him. Now et’s plum’ certain they stayed up thar sev-
eral hours, an’ mebbyso through er night; then went on
hyar. P’r’aps they stayed bercause she war weal an’
needed ter git her stren’th back, or bercause they war
‘feared o’ redskins prowlin’ round; but, hows’ever thet is,
when they went on hyar she war all right, and war goin’
along as ef she war willin’.”

“Then she had met a white man she thought she could
trust,’ said Donovan.

“I reckon thet is so, though he may have lied ter her.
Ther thing I don’t like is, they warn’t goin’ in ther right
direction.” 2

He pointed in the direction the tracks showed.

“Down thet way lays Trout Creek, and down Treut
Creek is whar Pawnees aire thicker than fleas on a dawg.
Et’s what I don’t like erbout et.”

Throughout the day they held unweariedly to the work.

‘The ridges above Trout Creek were reached, when night

forced a rest. But at daybreak they were at it again.

_. When they. descended the bottom lands of the creel:
and drew on toward old Wanderoo’s village, still hanging

doggedly to the trail left by the man and the girl, their

approach coincided in time with that ef Buffalo. Bill’s

party and the pony soldiers under Lieutenant Sefton,

‘PILE “WEERLY.

e

CHAPTER XI.
A FIGHT TO THE DEATH.

“Waugh I © Pee

Old Nomad merely breathed the familiar exclamation.

The Piute, behind him, tiptoed, eraned his neck, ‘and
looked. ><’ a oi ated
‘Mebbvso you see um something—huh?”

Nomad drew the Piute alongside and pointed,

“Ther gall’ he whispered.

They had pushed on ahead of the main body that pur-
sued the trail, when the ridges westward of the Pawnee
village were reached; had crossed the stream, when the
trail was lost, and found it again on the other side; then,
after a half-blind hunt through the mesquite and among
rocks, they had reached the mouth of a small cavern. —

Up to this they had crept. And on looking into the
cavern Nomad sighted the girl.

“Sleepin’ like er birdie ‘in ets nest,” he whispered.

Her head pillowed on her: arm, and with a ‘torn coat |
over her, she lay where a spot of stinshine camé in at
the entrance. And she was the only person in the little
cave. ca

Nomad drew the Piute back.

“Ther man we trailed ter this p’int, he ain’t hyar. But
I s’pose he must be piroutin’ round somewhar. clost. by.
As I has a hankerin’ fer er-clost-range look at him, I’m
goin’ ter camp down hyar while you trails round a’ ‘bit.

‘

Mebbyso. you will locate him.” —
“Huh!” was the noncommittal grunt of the Piute.
“Pawnees. aire a heap plenty hyarways; we has. been

secin’ a lot of sign; so ye’re to keep yer black eyes wide

open. Tl expect ye back in half-an hour-er so. Ef ye
cit inter trouble, let yer pistol go and I'll hear et.”

He glanced at the mouth of the cave. m

“As fer'me, I ain’t. goin’ ter spile thet beauty sleep an’
git myself hated by rushin’ in whar angels fear ter tread;
I got too much sense fer thet. So Ill camp down an’
wait fer her to wake up when she gits ready. But et’s
a phim’ wonder ter find her thar.”

“Plenty strange.”

“You ain’t seein’ ther tracks o’ ther man p’intin’-erway
frum ther cave?”

Cayuse looked about and made a brief search.

“No see um,” he reported.

“Spraddle out, then, and cover ther ground.’’

“Pronto,” said Cayuse.

He slipped away, leaving Nomad on guard before the
cave in which Bessie Donovan was sleeping.

“Et’s er shame thet we didn’t bring Donovan and Brady
erlong,” said Nomad, looking again at the mouth of the
cave. “Thet would be er sight fer em now. But I allow
they'd go ter throwin’ fits, an’ thet would be wuss than
a shame—et would be a sin ter wake her up.”

Little Cayuse did not find the trail of the man, but his
efforts took him to the other side of the sesquite-covered

_ ridge, where he came on tracks that interested him. They

were moccasin tracks, fresher than any he had noticed
recently, and seemed to have been made by a white man.

He followed them to the top of the farther ridge, and
came on a sight that brought him up with a jerk.

Two men had come together there—the man he had
followed and old Wanderoo. The white man was dressed.
painted, and feathered like an Indian, and at first Littic
Cayuse thought he was an Indian ; he was undeceived only
when he heard him speak.

The old medicine man was in a towering rage. It was
evident that the disguised white man had slipped away,
and the medicine man had followed and met him face to
face by cutting across the base of the hill.

In the angry talk that followed, Cayuse was given his
first news that a battle had heen fought between the Paw-
nees and pony soldiers led by Buffalo Bill, and the Paw-
nees had been defeated.

“You feared Pa-e-has-ka, and you ran away,” said Wan-
deroo, “and you did not tell me. Fiery Eye is a snake.”

OL Ty ask of you,” said the white man, “is to let me
go my. way.

The Piute, in hiding. close. at hand, looked the white
man over, That voice—it was the voice.of Bob Dalton!
_“Biery Eye loved the Pawnees_ so long as he thought,
they could protect him; now he thinks they cannot, and he

 
NEW BUFFALO

ra ts to go away; Pa-e-has-ka and the pony soldiers have
ruck, and he is afraid. He has the heart of a squaw.”
“The desperado drew his knife.

Wanderoo was a brave and had looked at death before
iery Eye was born,” sneered the old man. “Does he now
ink that he can scare me?”

You go back to your Pawnees, ”

) snarled Dalton in Eng-
- “I’m tired of you.”

Fiery Eye wants to take the green stones and sell them >

much money.”
You kept half of them after I found them; by right
y are all mine, and if you push me I'll kill you and take

he medicine man dropped a hand to his own knife.

I will take the cowardly snake back to the Pawnees

d give him to the witch stone!” he shouted, and jumped

Dalton.

Little Cayuse, himself terribly afraid of the power of
he medicine man, expected to see the white man retreat,
nd more than half expected to: see him fall dead under
‘the withering fire that seemed to shoot from the eyes of the
‘old Indian.

But Dalton met the rush of Wanderoo and struck with
is knife.

It bit into Wanderoo’s shoulder, and Cayuse saw the red
slood spurt. But the rush and the heavier weight of the

edicine man drove him backward, and he went down,
“ith Wanderoo on top.

Little Cayuse lifted his plumed head out of the bushes
6 witness the furious struggle that now took place on
he ground.

Dalton turned Wanderoo, threw him off, and. struck
again; Wanderoo struck back, and Dalton went down once
nore, with the infuriated medicine man on his hack this
time,
| “Wuh!” grunted the Piute.
ill.”

His plumed head was lifted higher.

A pair of mountain lions clawing at each other could
ot have: grappled and fought more furiously. Leaves
flew, the bushes swayed and shook.

Suddenly Wanderoo founced backward, gurgling, stiff-
ened, and dropped over. With a weak yell, Dalton threw
him off, rose to his knees, and struck again.

“T told you what I’d do to you!” he screamed in a
choked voice. “I told you 2

He was about to drive the knife again, but stopped and
pawed at his own breast. Rocking to a sitting position, -
he stared round.

Hey ? (

He tried to get on his feet, but fell. :

A minute later he lay stretched out by the side of Wan-

“Heap big fight! Mebbyso

deroo.
“IZi11 ’em both pronto!” whispered the Piute. “Wuh!”
Little Cayuse was about to step forth when his. keen
-ears caught the noise of footsteps.

“Wruhl” he grunted again, and ducked his plumed head
out of sight. .

A white man came into view from the other side of the
ridge—a little white man, wearing bush-torn clothing.
Cayuse had seen him before, and recognized him at once
as Archibald Stepson Jones.

The white man looked round cautiously as he came upd
the slope. One of his eyes had the queer trick of jerking
suddenly upward, as if it wished to part company with its
neighbor.

Approaching the fallen men, Archibald Stepson Jones
stood above them, a fair mark for a bullet if Cayuse had
wished to send one at him.

“That was the hottest fight I ever saw,” floated to the
ears of the watching Indian, “and they're both dead, Well,
there won’t be any sudden poverty in the world on account
Pot it.”

Then he dropped down and in the most approved road-
agent fashion began to go through their clothing.

From the neck of the dead Indian he removed a string
of big emeralds that had a larger one as a pendant.

“Whoop!” he said, as he looked at them. “Old Wan-
derco touched the emerald cache as sure as the sun. But
there ought to be more of ’em, seems to me...

PILL WEEKLY. 19

He searched the medicine man thoroughly, removing his
weapons, but found on him no more emeralds.

Turning his attention to the body of the desperado, he
brought up a bag of buckskin out of which he turned two
strings of emeralds smaller than the one secured from the
medicine man.

“Hoop-a-la! This looks good to me. Ah”’—he looked
about—“that explains what they were fighting about; each
warited the emeralds that the other had. Now, I wonder
who it was found ’em? I'll bet something to nothing it
was Dalton.”

He dug through Dalton’s pockets, and took his weapons ;
but there were no more emeralds.

The buckskin bag was big enough to hold all of them,
so he put them into it and dropped it into his pocket.

Then he examined the weapons. One by one he threw
them away, with the exception of Dalton’s revolver and
all the cartridges. These he dropped into his pockets..

“Ts been a long trail,” he said, “and I never expected
to connect with the emeralds in this. way. It ought to
prove that Archibald Stepson Jones is still playing in luck.
Since I started on that trail I have been through fire and
water, Indian captivity, and everything else but death,
and that was clawing at me. And still I’m alive—and I've
got the emeralds!”

He rose again, lodked about, flicked his wandering eye
over the bushes in which Little Cayuse lay hidden; then he
began to pick his way down the slope.

He was going in the direction of the cave.

A great light dawned suddenly for Little Cayuse; he
knew this was the man who had been with the girl and
had been followed from the far-off stage trail.

Slipping out of the bushes, Little Cayuse bézan now to
dog the steps of the white man.

CHAPTER XII.
FONES EXPLAINS.

cave, with Nomad

The girl was still asleep in the
Archibald Stepson

crouched before it in silence, when
Jones arrived there-

Nomad had heard his approach.

So the first notification that Jones had of his presence,
Nomad was on his back, woofing like a bear. Jones went
down and rolled over, and when he sat up and flicked his
game eye round he looked into the mouth of the border-
man’s revolver.

“Rasy, thar!” said Nomad. “Rasy, otherwise you're goin’
ter be drilled prompt and plenty.”

Jones’ game eye flicked upward and back again, and saw
once more the revolver pointed at his face, with the bor-
derman: squatted behind it.

There was 2 movement in the cave, and the girl appeared
in the entrance. She uttered a cry when she beheld the
tableau.

“Ts all right, Miss Donovan,” said the little-man, flick-
ing his wandering optic in her direction ; “this specimen
‘5 old Nomad, friend of Buffalo Bill, and my friend, though
he doesn’t know it.”

“Waugh!” Nomad

eulped.
“But if you'll coax him to put down that revolver before

he does me everlasting damage,” continued Jones, “it will
be a favor. He seems to want to shoot me, and I don’t
want to be shot. Not right now, anyhow, for I’ve found
the emeralds.”

“Waugh! Waugh-h!”

“Make that funny noise again,”

“Whatever-—"

“You're just actin’
alk

‘“Waugh-h-h!”

“That's good. Perhaps you will feel better and. take
that thing down; I can see that you're gettin’ nervous,
and it might go off in my face.” -

The girl came forward, her eyes bright, her cheeks
fushed. Nomad almost feared to glance at her lest he
should give Jones some advantage ; but the one look he
flung her showed that her clothing was tattered. She had
slipped back the coat that had been round her, and he now
observed also that the man was coatless. He had not
thought of connecting these things before.

said Jones coolly.

foolish, and don’t know it; that’s

 
20 NEW BUFFALO

“This is Nomad,” said the girl, “and you know me, of
course; I am Bessie Donovan, and this is Mr. Jones.’

Little Cayuse rustled the bushes and came upon the
scene, ‘

‘Heap big fight,” he said to Nomad. “Me see um medi-
cine man kill Fiery Eye, and him kill medicine man pronto.
Mucho great fight. Very fine.”

“T saw that, too,” said Jones, “and I might have told
you about it if you had given me time to think.”

“Take um green stones away from Wanderoo and Fiery
Eye—heap many.”

“Again right-o,”’ admitted Jones. “I’ve got them green
stones, and I’m judging they’re the emeralds from that
cache you once heard me making such a howl about.”

“Se if you will put down that revolver, Mr. Nomad,”
urged the girl. “That's right—I knew you would!” _

The borderman laid the revolver on the ground beside
him.

“The things I know bein’ all tangled up wi’ ther things
1 don’t know. has got me buckin’ et blind an’ guessin’.
But mebbyso ef somebody will loosen up some straight
information I’ll know whar I am at.”

The girl and Archibald Jones began to explain, both
talking at once. Nomad listened in amazed silence, and
-learned that Jones had helped the girl to the limit of his
abilities.

“Let Bess Donovan tell et,” requested the trapper.

“Gladly,” she said, and began;

“You know about the wreck of the stage?”

“Ryer'thing, except what has happened sence. Me and
yore paw an’ Brady, with pony soldiers, has been follerin’
yer trail, aed et led me an’ Cayuse ter this spot. So we

_ knows ever’thing, exceptin’ ther things we don’t onder-

stand.”

“Mr. Jones was hiding near the stage trail, for Pawnees
were round there. When the stage stopped, and he ran
up to it, he saw me there, unconscious. I had been choked
by Bob Dalton, who took my suit case and some of my
clothing and disguised himself so he could fool the
troopers.

“Mr. Jones carried me back into the mesquite, restored -

me to consciousness, and we hid—for we saw Indians, and
they were trying to locate us. As they were between us
and the trail, we went still farther back, and we had to
stay hid all night.

“Ini the morning we tried to find the trail, but we got
turned round and went in the wrong direction. We didn’t
kflow that, though, until we were nearly to Trout Creek.
Then we had to hide again because of Pawnees.

“To make it short—fear of the Pawnees forced us to
cross the creek and forced us to this point. We had a
perfectly terrible time; my clothing was nearly torn from
my back, and we had hardly any food. .When we got
here I was so worn out that I fell asleep; though Mr.
Jones asked me to stay awake and watch while he went
out to look about.

“And I believe that’s all. But if father and Mr. Brady
are near here—well, naturally I should like to see them
just as soon as | can.”

“Also, I imagine,” said Jones,

“she would like some-
thing to eat. | know that I would. Livin’ on berries and
roots and creek water ain’t high feedin’.”

Nomad opened up his food bag and water bottle.
“?Tain’t much,’ he said, “but you’re as welcome to et

-as ef et war better. Cayuse will loosen up, too, so mebby
* et will do. And while you're gittin’ filled up Cayuse will
hustle ter bring up ther pony soldiers, and mebbyso you'll
tell me suthin’ more erbout them em'ralds; I’m plum’
intrested in ’em.”

Cayuse departed, while the girl] and Archibald Stepson
Jones were vainly endeavoring to stay their famished
appetites with the food produced.

“Those emeralds,’ Jones explained between mouthfuls,
“belonged, you know, to a man named Bernard Brown,
who died in New York and left me a letter telling me
where they were cached and hoping they would do me
some good.

“And in a way it was that emerald cache on Trout Creek
which pointed mie into this country. I’m working for the
government, you know.”

BILL WEEE Y:

“T didn’t know ét,” said the trapper dryly. “TL thought
ve war workin’ fer yerself, or the devil.”

“ “Tm working for the war and Indian departments—
secret service. I’m willing to tell you that now, and I was
sent out Here to shadow Buffalo Bill.”

“Waugh!” Nomad gulped angrily. ;

“There is a certain official, nameless right now, who
has some bad feeling against Cody, and he wanted some
man sent out to investigate him secretly. I thought |
would be the right man, because I wanted to come here
to hunt for the emeralds and didn’t know a thing about
Cody.” i Shere

“You have collected some int’restin’ information by
now ?” ‘ ;

“Tl have. I know that Cody is straight as a string, as
honorable as they make ’em; and anybody who says he
isn’t is a liar; and that’s going to be my report.”

“Good ernough!”

“Near Pagoda Springs I fell in with Bob Dalton. |
didn’t know who he was till later; but I did discover that
he went through my valise and got a sight of that letter
about the emerald cache. I shan’t go into details; but
later, at Pagoda Springs, where he came disguised as a
negro, with that hand organ and monkey, he tried to
assassinate me.

“Then he tried to get to Trout Creek ahead of me and
find the emeralds first. He tried it again and got them,
and now he is dead. And I have got the emeralds. Your
Piute can tell you about that—about the fight between
Wanderoo and Bob Dalton, and how I found the emer-
alds on them, part on Wanderoo and part in Dalton’s
pocket in this buckskin -bag.”

He produced it and poured out the strings of emeralds.

“So you're claimin’ ’em now—though ye didn’t find ’em!”

“Wrong again, as usual, I’m claiming them now, half
of them, for Miss Bessie Donovan, daughter of the Red-
hot Poker, and better able to shine by her own light than
any other girl in seventeen States. . The reason is—l’ve
found out now that her mother was a sister of Bernard
Brown.”

“Waugh !”

“A further reason,” said Jones serenely, “is, my mother
was also a sister of Bernard Brown; which is why, if you
must know, Brown gave me the letter, when he thought
he wasn’t going to pull through.”

“Waugh-h!”

“So Miss Donovan and I are cousins—though we didn't
know it before. But don’t make that funny noise again
in your throat, old-man, or you will spoil my really excel-
lent appetite.”

Nomad “woofed” again, but this time it was because
revolver shots reached him and brought him to his feet
with a jump. :

CHAPTER? XiiE
CONCLUSION.

The revolver shots announced the junction of the forces
under Buffalo Bill and Lieutenant Sefton with those com-
manded by Lieutenant Brady, and were intended to be
heard by Nomad and Little Cayuse.

Half an hour later the combined forces came to the cave,
piloted by the Piute.

The mutual explanations that followed, with all that was
said, if spread out in these pages, would cover a good deal
of space, and they were mighty interesting—to those who
did the talking.

90 much time did they consume that an hour passed
before Buffalo Bill could visit the high ridge where Wan-
deroo and the desperado had met death. a
_ Among others who went then with the scout was Kick-
ing Bird, who. could not believe that the old medicine man
had fallen until he looked at the body.

“Leave them here,” he said, “until the Pawnees can s¢¢
them; for now I go to the Pawnees to tell them of this
thing.”

Buffalo Bill and his friends were far from the ridge
when the doubting Pawnees were led to it by Kicking Bird.

But a few hours later they had ocular proof that some
of the Pawnees had followed them.

 
NEW BUFFALO

richly plumed brave rode out on ‘a snow-white mus-
bearing a flag of white buckskin.
is Kicking Bird,” said Pawnee Bill.
pe and Buffalo Bill mounted and met the young
oT he Pawnees are on the hill there, watching,” said
king Bird, “and over there are the pony soldiers.
ely they were at each other like wolves. But now Wan-
00 is dead. No more shall the fountain of water turn

the Pawnees. Is it the wish of my white brothers?”

We want peace with the Pawnees, that 3s all,” ‘said
lawnee Bill, acting as spokesman.

Wanderoo is dead. Also Two Feathers, my enemy, is
ead, with others who were my enemies. IT am now chief
f the Pawnees, and my will is law. If my white brothers

1 take away the pony soldiers and keep them away, the
*awnees will.return to their village; the hatchet shall be
tied, and no more shall there be war between us.”
It is well!” said Pawnee.
“Tt is well!’ repeated Buffalo Bill.

ae nor of Pa-e-has-ka was never broken,

ir

BT ely he shook hands with the scouts.
“Wanderoo is dead, and the war is over,” he said.
‘Then he wheeled his white mustang and rode away, head
ect and plumes floating proudly.
The pony soldiers returned to Fort Stanton; Buffalo
ill and his friends to Pagoda Springs.
Archibald Stepson Jones, still flicking his game eye,
turned to the East, with a good report of the conduct
f Buffalo Bill, and with half the emeralds.
Miss Bessie Donovan remained, with half the emeralds;
nd—married Lieutenant Brady, the young pony soldier.
Iso, she kept the little monkey as a mascot.

” said Kick-

THE END,

How about a bear story? “Buffalo Bill and Grizzly Dan;
tr, Pawnee Bill’s Giant Swing,” is a story of desperate
ehting with the Ute Indians in Utah, but it is also one
Of the best grizzly-bear stories ever published. Grizzly Dan
fas held in superstitious fear by the Utes on account of
his remarkable power to tame and train the fierce bears
of the mountains. This same power made him a valuable
ally to the scouts and soldiers, and this story will tell you
ow he aided them and what deeds they did in one of
the memorable Indian campaigns of Western history.
No. 281. Out January 26th.

OBEYING ORDERS LITERALLY.

glancing out of a rear win-
dow, saw his new waiter chasing a chicken aboutthe yard.

“What have you in that bowl?’ demanded the hotel man,
referring to a utensil he was hugging.

A country hotel proprietor, g

“Mushrooms,” responded the new waiter. “There's a
gentleman that wants chicken smothered with mushrooms,
and I’m trying to smother him, sir!”

ORDERING FROM A FRENCH MENU.

Mayor Bates, of Ithaca, said at a Cornell University tea:
“There's nothing more valuable than a knowledge of
| foreign languages.
e SE Imow. an Ithaca man who, on a visit to New York,
took a young lady to one of those Fifth Avenue restaurants
where the bill of fare is all in French.
“The poor Ithaca man looked blankly up and down that
long list of unintelligible terms, and then in desperation

fm he put his finger on an item and said:

mower tl begin with some of that.’

But, SE: ’ said the waiter, smiling, “that is ma by once?
“<T know it is, don’t E°’ growled the Ithaca man.
Shen,’ said the waiter, perplexed, ‘what will you have
Pit On, ‘sir?’
_  & Why, on a plate, you dub!’ roared the Ithaca man.
‘Is it the usual thing here to feed your guests out of
troughs! fo

Bill WEERLY.

THE LAST OF THE HERD:
Or, A Big Contract Well Filled.

By EDWARD C. TAYLOR.

(This interesting story began in New BurraLo BILL WEEKLY
No. 279. If you have not read the opening chapters get the back
number which you have missed from your news dealer. If he
cannot supply you with it the publishers will do so.)

CHAPTER IIl.—(Continued).

Black was considerably older than Rossiter and did not
relish being called “dear boy” by this beardless youth.
Besides this, there was an insufferable inference of superi-
ority in Earl’s. manner at this moment that would have
irritated. a saint.

“Look here!’ said Black angrily. “I don’t know as
much as you do, perhaps, but I have a pretty good idea
that these people are going to give you a good rub for
your money to-morrow. I’ve been talking to people about
them, and it seems to me, from what I hear, that you are
just as likely to get beaten as not. I have some ideas on
these things myself.”

“Have you?” said Earl, with a smile. “How amusing 1”
“And I am willing to back my oe with my money.
“Better not. I don’t want to rob y
“You won't rob me; don’t worry ou that.”

“Vm not worrying. It only amuses me to hear you
express your opinion.”

“Tm ready to back my opinion with my money. It’s

‘very easy to talk, but money is the best argument.”

“J don’t want to win your money,” Cas

Black was in quite a temper by this time. He leaned
forward in his chair and poked his face, with its square
jaw and thin hips, up close to Rossiter’s.

“Took here!’ he said. “You show a conceit that gives
me a violent pain. I am willing to bet two hundred dol-
lars that those youngsters wipe the earth with you to-
morrow. A fellow that has the airs you have is, just
fixing himself for a tumble. Now, money talks. Either
put up or shut up. There’s mine.”

Black smashed his hand down on the table and threw
it open, exhibiting a fat roll of bills which he had drawn
from his pocket.

Earl allowed the mouthful of smoke he had just inhaled
to escape slowly into the air before he made reply.

“T suppose you will take my check, * he said, “and one
of your friends can be stakeholder.”

“Sure.”

Rossiter drew forth a leather-covered check book and
wrote out a check for two hundred dollars.

He had done what he had planned to do. *

CHAPTER IV.
THE NEXT MORNING.

A merry group of boys and girls were assembled on the
porch of the Sunset Ranch house. Rossiter had sent. out
invitations in all directions for the sports that were to
be held there that day, and a good many people had
accepted them, for there was a great deal of interest
aroused in the contest between Black Mountain and Sun-
set Ranch for the supremacy in cowboy sports.

Daisy Miller, the daughter of the owner of a near-by
ranch, and Louise Rossiter, Earl’s sister, were there. They
had already made friends with the party at the Sunset
Ranch, and, although both of the girls liked Tom Black’s
quiet little sister very much, they had an intuitive dislike .
to Rosalie Winters. They noticed that Rosalie and Ted
were seated off by themselves on one corner of the porch,
and that Ted seemed to be paying the dark-haired girl a.
good deal of attention.

He was laughing and joking, and Rosalie was laughing,
too, showing her white teeth and the dimples in -her cheeks,
and leaning | a little forward toward Ted with her luminous
eyes fixed on his. Louise showed no sign of any emotion

 
NEW BUFFALO

22

at the sight; but little Daisy, after watching the couple
for a moment, bit her lip and looked as if she were about
to burst into tears. She started to walk off by herself
when little Bob Martin hopped up alongside of her. Bob
was in great form this morning. His cheeks were as
round and rosy as winter apples, and his khaki suit fitted
his trim little figure to perfection. There was something
so comical and good-humored about his' face that Daisy, in
spite of the-fact that she felt rather angry and hurt be-
cause Ted had not paid the slightest attention to her that
morning, burst into smiles when he greeted her. .
“Hello, Daisy!” he chirped in his high, shrill voice.
“You look fine this morning. As Shakespeare says: ‘You
look like Mercury standing tiptoe on a distant mountain-
top and matching pennies with himself to see what he’ll
have for breakfast.’ Sit down here and let us have a nice
confidential chat. I was reading Shakespeare almost all
night, and I am just in form to fascinate you with my
charm of manner and my numerous quotations from the
oets.” .
, Daisy laughed outright and sat down. Several others
drew near, for everybody that knew Bob found him amus-
ing and they all wanted to hear what he had to say.
“That’s right,” said Bob. “Come crowding in and join
._ the merry circle. This young lady would prefer to be
alone with me. She has just been telling me that she
wants to elope with me because I am so fascinating, but
there is safety in numbers.”
“T haven't been telling him anything of the sort,” said
Daisy, with a laugh. “The idea!”

“That shows the perfidy of womankind,” said Bob. ‘As.

Shakespeare says: ‘Oh, woman in thine hours of ease,
uncertain, coy, and hard to please, the man who says you’re
all the cheese is such a fool he makes me sneeze.”

“Dot vos boedry,” muttered Carl Schwartz, ‘but I don’d
pelief dot Shagesbeare nefer wrote it.”

“There are whole lots of things you don’t believe,” said
Bob, “It’s because you don’t try hard enough.”

“Yaw,” said Carl, “you're hat is talking mit you now.”

“T wish I had your cheerful, merry disposition,” said
‘Beanpole. ‘Since my appetite left me I can’t joke or be
happy.”

“Your abbedite is britty good alretty,” said Carl. “You
ate six eggs mit yourselluf vor der preakfast,in der morn-
ing,

“That was medicine,” said Beanpole. “I have to eat eggs
for my nervousness.”

“Speaking of eggs,” said Bob; “did I ever tell you about
the time when I was in the egg business?”

“No; tell us about it,’ chorused the crowd.

“I was in the Easter-egg business in the western part
of this country, in the northern part of South Dakota,”
began Bob. “It was when I was a very young man. I
started this egg business, and my business grew by leaps
and bounds.” '

“Vot did you do mit der eggs?” asked Carl, who was
ate it all in with open mouth and believing every word
O bab: * :

“Painted quotations from Shakespeare on them to orna-
ment them for the Eastern Easter-ege market,” said Bob.

“I nefer saw no eggs mit kervotes bainted on dem,”
said Carl.

“Very likely,” said Bob. “I did this work with invisible
paint. That accounts for your not noticing it.”

Carl gasped and looked about him in bewilderment.

“But ” he began; but his remarks were interrupted
with a roar of laughter from the others.

“Don’t interrupt,” said Bob severely. “Listen! As
Shakespeare says: ‘Listen to my tale of woe.’ I was just
going to tell you about this egg business. I got to be an
eggsbert at it, and in course of time I had the biggest egg
plant in the country. People came from far and wide
in the eggsbectation of seeing my eggscellent egg plant. |
had to eggspell a number of people, my place of btisiness
became so crowded. It was about this time that I read
an article on eggs in the Trade and Eggsport Review, a
paper for which I used to subscribe. It told about a man
who -had discovered one of the most remarkable eggs on
earth. It was really a marvelous egg. It was no bigger
than any other egg, but it had such a hard shell that it
was absolutely indestructible. You could jump on it with-

BILL WEEREY:

out breaking it. You could put it on an anvil and hit it
with a hammer and still it would not break. You could
run it through a crushing machine, but the shell was of
such marvelous hardness and durability that nothing could
crack it,

“When I read this account I became interested in it
immediately. I thought that if I could get this egg it
would draw eggsport trade in my direction, and thus make
my egg plant still more flourishing. I cabled to the man
who owned the egg, and who lived somewhere in the in-
terior of Australia, to pack up his egg and bring it at
once to my egg plant. I thought that maybe I could paint
some | poetical eggspressions from Shakespeare upon it
and thus make it still more valuable. The man who owned
the egg started at once. It took him four months to get
to my egg plant. He came into my office, took the egg
from his pocket, and laid it carefully on the table.”

Bob looked around solemnly at the laughing group and
came to a full pause.

“Well,” said several, “what next?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Bob slowly, “I realized at
once, when he brought. that egg into my office, that it
was the strongest egg in the world. I was ready to believe
all that the paper had said as to its strength.”

Bob waited for the roars of laughter to subside, and
went on.

“We held our noses for a while,” he said, ‘and then
the man who owned the egg turned to me and spoke to
me. ‘I want that egg dyed,’ he said. ‘My friend,’ 1 made
reply, ‘that egg has died itself.’”

Bob paused again while the others laughed.

“How did you come to go out of the egg business?”
said Tom Black.

“Oh, I had troubles of my own,” said Bob. “I went
to New York, and there was an old rooster there who
took a dislike for me. He laid for me, and brooded over
it until I could bear the yolk no longer. I wanted to act
white, so I got out of the egg business altogether.”

The hearers were still laughing when Earl Rossiter
came up and joined the group.

“The show is about ready to begin,” he said. “The
first thing in order is some fancy riding. Which one of
the range riders is down for that?”

“T am,” said Beanpole; “but my nerves are in such a
frazzled condition that 1 won’t be able to do very much.”

“Cheer up,’ said: Bob: ;

“Get out there,’ said Kit. “You have the most care-
fully trained horse in the West for that sort of work, and
if you don’t win it is your own fault.”

Beanpole had a very expensive Kentucky thoroughbred
which had been trained perfectly and which the slim fellow
could control wonderfully. It was for this reason that
Beanpole had been selected to represent the young rough-
riders in the fancy work.

He stepped down toward the paddock, where his horse
was carefully covered with a blanket, and everybody
crowded down to the edge of the porch to watch the
contest that was now to commence. :

According to the rules, which Ted and Earl had agreed
upon for the contest, two men were allowed to enter for
each event from each ranch. The men who represented
Sunset Ranch in the fancy riding were two Mexican va-
queros—Pancho and Gregorio by name. Pancho was a
confidential servant of Earl’s, not being required to do
any work about the ranch; and Gregorio was a newcomer,
recently arrived from Texas.

Ted Strong came up from the side of Rosalie, Winters
as soon_as word went out that the contest was going to ©
start. Bud Morgan was to help Beanpole ride for the
Black Mountain outfit. He was down in the paddock
when Ted reached his side.

“Well, boys, how do you feel?”

“Rotten,” said Beanpole. “What T needvis a change
of air, I've got diabetes. That’s what’s the matter with
me.
that's pretty, good fer you,” said Bud, with a grin.

Ginirally ye hev three or four complaints. When ye
hes only one ye must be in fine trim.”

“Do your best now, boys,” said Ted. “You have good
men against you. That fellow. Pancho is a pretty. slick
article, and you must look out for all sorts of tricks.”

 
NEW

BUFFALO

“Tumpin’ sandhills!” said Bud. “Trust me fer. thet.

| But Gregorio, the leedle bow-legged chap, is ther best of

ther two. Ive seen-him before now. « He useter go round

| from ranch to ranch, down in Texas, winnin’ contests

| whenever he gota chance. He's about as. slick as they
Puake~’em,”

Beanpole had thrown the saddle over his horse by this

| time,-and Ted went to-assist him in tightening up the
| double cinches which he used.

| my. condition.”

go on first.

“See how my hands shake,”

“Nonsense!” said Ted. “You look fit as a fiddle. You

I see that they are going to commence riding

| around the pole and short dashes for the opening, and

| that fellow Pancho has ridden out.

| later was mounted on his beautiful Kentucky sorrel.

Up you go!”

Beanpole threw his long leg into the air, and a moment
On
foot Beanpole looked long and slim and awkward; but
now that he was mounted on his horse, whose glossy coat

| shone like satin, clad in well-cut khaki riding breeches
| and a flannel shirt, he looked the picture of a good horse-
| man.

As the moment for him to ride out came on, he forgot

all about his imaginary complaints and his lean face took

on a keen, eager expression that showed that he was deter-

» mined to do or die. ”

Prancing gayly, his horse stepped daintily. out on the

' turf inclosure that stretched off before the ranch house.

 

There was a burst of applause and at the same time
Pancho entered the ring.
The contest had started.

CHAPTER. V.
NIP AND TUCK:

The riding course, on which the majority of the events
in the wild-West sports contest were to take place, was
a level piece of mown turf about thirty yards wide and
a hundred yards long. The broad veranda of the Sunset
Ranch house abutted on one side of it: The other side

| was closed in by the cattle pen, from which the steers

for the steer-roping contest were to be let out. The
people seated on the veranda were as if seated on a grand
stand, in comfortable chairs, shielded from the sun and
with a splendid view of the arena. At one end of the
inclosure two Mexicans were engaged in putting up a
tall pole, planed smooth and round and about a foot in
diameter. It was driven firmly in the ground and was to
be used for the first of the exhibitions of fancy riding.

In the meantime, Pancho and Beanpole were seated on
their horses at the other end of the arena. Before he had
seen Thaddeus on the back of’his steed, Pancho had been
disposed to laugh at his opponent; but now, when he saw

his easy seat.in the saddle, and how the magnificent sorrel

obeyed every inclination of his rider’s figure and every
touch of his hand or knee, he began to have his doubts
as to whether it would be so easy as he expected it to be.

Thaddeus understdod the value of kindness in handling
an animal, and, being himself of a kind and considerate
disposition, he had won the love and respect of the thor-
oughbred that he rode. The sorrel had as tender a mouth
as he had before he was ever saddled, for the simple rea-
son that his rider had never forced him to submit to in-
human tugging and pulling on the reins. He was as sen-
sitive to the touch of a whip or spur as a newly weaned
colt, because he had neved been whipped or spurred hard.
What some riders might have tried to accomplish through
fear Beanpole had accomplished through love; and now,
as he sat back in the saddle, horse and man had become
a single being, so far as such a thing is possible.

With Pancho it was different. While Beanpole wore
no spurs at all on the heels of his neat brown shoes,
Pancho’s high heels were decorated with jingling imple-
ments of torture of the most cruel Méxican variety. His
bit was a heavy curb, strong enough to break the lower
jaw of.the animal if the rider felt so disposed; and Pancho
held the double reins in a lean, cruel hand which had
never known. what it was to spare the mouth of a steed.
His horse was perfectly under his command, but it was

Utes JPA yas NANT treo eRe aan Nes) Seeman

said Thaddeus. ‘That shows’

BILL WEEKLY. 23.

afraid of him: A sullen fire shone in its eye, and it only

submitted because it had learned that pain and suffering
must inevitably follow: any disobedience of the cruel
tyrant. who.'sat on its back, fe ie

Ben Tremont, who, with Tom Black, had been. chosen
as judge and master of ceremonies, now stepped forward
and in his stentorian voice announced that the first con-
test would be a trial of skill in stopping a horse within a
short distance, the man who, going at full speed, should
bring his animal to a standstill in the shortest distance
from. a line which had been marked across the stretch of
turf winning the contest and thereby scoring three points
for his ranch.

“The men start at the report of a pistol from the far
end,” said Ben, “and must ride at full speed until they
reach the line which is drawn across the middle of the
course—then they may start to rein in. The man who pulls
rein before reaching this point is disqualified from the

contest and his side loses this particular event. Do you
two contestants understand ?” ay
‘All right,” said Thaddeus.
“Si, sefior,’ said Pancho in resonant tones. a
“Took at old Beanpole,” said Kit to Ted. “He’s for-
gotten all about everything but winning now. Beanpole

is all right.”

“Oh, dear!’ ‘murmured Rosalie Winters, leaning close
to Ted on the other side. “I am awfully excited. I hope
that your man wins.”

Ted met her eyes and felt the strange, dizzy sensation
that he had experienced before, stealing over him. He
felt that he would like to forget all about the con-
test, all about everything but those marvelous eyes. And
still there was a feeling of repulsion that prompted him
to fight against this influence. He was struggling with it,
feeling how hard it was to draw his eyes’away from the
girl who was bending toward him, feeling that she had
cast some sort of magic spell over him, when crack! The
revolver announced the opening of the contest. A deep-
toned cheer from his young companions filled his ears.
The spell: was broken. He turned away and saw the two
horsemen tearing forward across the level space of: turf
—-Pancho hitched forward in his saddle, but Beanpole sat
with his tall figure as erect and immovable as that of a
major on parade.

Like bullets the two forms sped by. Then, when their
horses struck the line with their forefeet, both men swayed
back. Pancho pulled so savagely on his bit that his. horse
went clear to his haunches and went sliding across the
ground in that fashion for a good ten feet. Beanpole
did not pull so hard, but he spoke sharply to his horse.
At his word all its four feet became rigid as bars of iron.
It stopped within two yards, Beanpole had won easily,
and the cheers from the young range riders split the air.

. Ted.arose and shouted words of encouragement to Bean-
pole. In the meantime, Earl Rossiter had slipped up along-
side of Rosalie Winters and was whispering in her ear:

“Ted Strong/is going to do some of the shooting. Tt
counts ten, I must win this contest. I have two hundred
on it: Try and help me.”

Rosalie nodded her head. Ted Strong had sat down
beside her, and she began to talk to him again.

“Let me look at your revolver,” she said. “And show
me how you load it.”

Ted was drawing his weapon out of the case in which
it hung when he saw Daisy’s eyes gazing at him from the
other corner of the porch. She was seated away by her-
self, and looked forlorn and lonely. Ted Strong’s heart
was filled with a great tenderness at that moment. He
forgot all about the beautiful, dark-haired girl at his side,
He rose from his seat.

“You are not going to leave me, are you?” said Rosalie.
Her eyes were fixed on Ted, but somehow they seemed
to have lost their power. She felt that whatever hold she
had gained on the lad was gone now.

“IT must ask you to excuse me for a minute,” he said, and
slipped away to Daisy’s side. Had he seen the expression
that for a second appeared on Rosalie Winters’. face as
he turned away? It wae still beautiful, but for that fleet-
ing moment it took on a look of hatred and cruelty that

 
epY
dood

NEW BUFFALO
wouid have shocked any one wno saw it. “A moment fater,
and Rosalie had resumed her rosy, smiling beauty and was
watching the contest as though her interest had never been
diverted from it for an instant.

By this time Beanpole and Pancho were lined up for the
second event. This was one of the severest tests of per-
fect horsemanship that can be found, and it was in this
event that the pole that had been erected at one end of
the course was to be used. Beanpole and his opponent
were to ride straight for the pole and go around it at top
speed in the smallest possible circle.

Lots were drawn. Pancho won and elected to ride first.
His horse had been well trained for this contest, and
looked at the pole as though it were a familiar object.
At the report of Ben Tremont’s revolver he launched for-
ward, and, as he neared the post, slowed up a trifle. The

mouth of the horse was bleeding from the cruel tug that
Pancho had given the bit in the former contest, and its
sides were bleeding from the digs he had inflicted upon
it with his spurs. He struck the post going at a consider-
able rate of speed, placed his hand upon it, and tried to
swing around, using it as a pivot. He did his best, but
halfway around was carried off by his momentum. He
still clung desperately to the post, but, as the horse swung
away from it, he came out of the saddle and went tum-
bling to the earth.

Now came Beanpole’s turn. At the crack of the revolver
he went forward at an even swifter pace than the Mex-
ican. He had ‘shortened his stirrups by a full inch, and,
as he rode, leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on the
post as on a target. He held his reins in tight, but at
the same time he pressed the sides of his horse with his
heels, urging it forward by words as well. His gently bred
steed needed'no cruel spurs to make it do its best. Many
a morning Beanpole had practiced this very trick over and

over again on the prairie beside the Black Mountain Ranch >

house, and he knew the way it was done.

Beéanpole reached the post, traveling at almost top speed.
Then he slapped his lean hand on it with a resounding
smack, leaning so far from the saddle that it seemed as
if he must go over. As if standing upon a pivot and
governed by springs, his horse whirled around the circle
completely. In the meantime, Beanpole’s hand never left
the wood. He straightened up in the saddle and bowed,
lifting his sombrero from his head. Again a lusty cheer
came from the throats of the young roughriders, and as
Beanpole rode over toward the veranda they leaped down
the steps, crowding about him and clasping him by the
hand.

Beanpole, flushed with triumph, was escorted to a com-
fortable seat beside Miss Black, and sat there talking to
her during the rest of the contest, enjoying himself im-
mensely.. He had played his part, and played it well, and
had scored a clean six for the Black Mountain Ranch.
For-once in his life poor Beanpole began to think that his
health was improving and that he might not beso sick,
after all:

It was now Bud Morgan’s turn to meet Gregorio in the
fancy-riding contest, which embraced riding in odd posi-
tions, picking up handkerchiefs from the ground, and the
like. In spite of Bud’s strenuous efforts, he was outclassed
by the Mexican, who had been practicing at that sort of
thing all his life and had never devoted any time to honest
cowboy work as Bud had. Had it been a contest to round
up a herd of cattle in a given time, Bud would have won
it hands down. This time he lost, and, although he won
many a round of applause for his gallant attempts and
graceful and daring riding, six points, the declared valuc
of this event, were scored in favor of the Sunset Ranch
outit, *-

Bud walked back to the veranda, as dejected a man as
you could find in a long time.

“Never mind,” said Ted, laying his hand on his shoul-
ders ; “it was the fault of your horse; and you put up such
a good fight for it that there is nothing put. bouquets
coming to you, anyway.”

“Jumpin’ sandhills!” said Bud.
noticin’ me? I’m a no-account maverick, an’ no good any-
v.ays. When a greaser can slide in an’ beat me it’s time
icr me ter get back ter ther hayfield.”

“What’s ther use of

BILL WEEKLY.

“You will have another chance in the shooting,” said
Ted. “I'll put you in for that event with myself and Kit,
and if we can’t do something to those fellows we'll all
quit.” :

“Steer roping next,” said Ben Tremont. “Present score,
six—six.”

CHAPTER Wi
TED IS OBSERVANT.

To the surprise of all the outsiders, Bob Martin was
entered to represent the young range riders in this con-
test. Little Bob looked like a baby beside the brawny
Mexican who was his opponent, and Earl Rossiter gazed
at him in astonishment as he mounted his horse and rode
off to his position near the cattle pen.

“By Jove!” he said. “Has Ted Strong gone crazy, that
he sends that fellow into an event like this?”

“IT dont’ know,” said Rosalie Winters. “Fes a queer
boy. I thought that I had him on a string when he sud-
denly jumped up and went over and began to talk to that
little brown-haired girl over there—what’s her name:—
Daisy Miller.” :

“Humph!” said Earl. “She’s smashed on Ted, like a
lot of others. They make me tired. You are the only one
with any sense.”

Rosalie said nothing.

“I rather wished that he had gone into this contest. |
knew that he would not use his good black horse, but his
sorrel for this, and I had fixed the cinches so that he might

_ have had a nasty tumble, while you held him up on the
“porch talking to you. That was why I told you to stick
close to him and keep him as interested as possible all

morning.” i

“Why did you not tell what you had in mind?” whis-
pered the girl. “I saw him looking over toward the pad-
dock when you were standing in there among the horses,
and I saw his face grow suspicious.” !

Earl Rossiter muttered an oath under his breath. Ii
Rosalie Winters heard it she did not notice it. She still
had her eyes fixed on Ted Strong, who sat a considerable
distance off, talking, in a group with Daisy, Kit, and
Louise. , She looked at his handsome, frank face, and then
glanced covertly at the face of the boy beside her. The
cruel lines about Earl’s mouth, which the lamplight had
soitened,, were painfully distinct in the rays of the sun.
His face was a great deal paler than Ted’s, and the skin
was a good deal drawn about the eyes. Earl was a hand-
some boy, at first sight, on account of his clear-cut fea-
tures and dark eyes. One might have thought him even
handsomer than Ted, but now as the girl looked at them
both she saw a gay, merry light in Ted’s brown eyes that
she never saw in Earl’s, His face was ruddier and stronger,
radiant with health and full of kindness—the face of one
who could never be guilty of a mean or cruel thing.

“I suppose that little fellow will get beaten, anyway,
though,” said Rosalie dreamily.

“I guess so,” said Earl. “If my man doesn’t beat him,
I'll fire him to-night.”

A steer was let loose at this :aoment, and Bob raced
after it and made his cast. His noose fell around the
horns of the animal, and it went to the ground. ~Bob
tumbled, rather than jumped, out of the saddle, and a -
moment later the animal was tied securely. Ben Tremont
called out the time—one minute ten seconds.

“Ah!” said Rossiter. “That settles that end of the con-
test, and it counts ten. Ted Strong should have gone in
for that himself. He’s sitting. fooling around with that
girl there and losing the match. My man has done it in
forty-nine seconds often. Watch him!”

The second steer was let loose, and the Mexican vaquero
went after it. He cast well, but a great groan went up
from all his companions as they saw the steer shake it
off one horn and finally fight free from the noose. The
Mexican threw. again, and roped the steer this time, but
his first throw had settled him. His time, when finished,
was a minute and.a half. Bob Martin had won by luck,
and now he came prancing over toward the veranda, smil-
ing with pride.

“We did it that time,” he said. “As Shakespeare re-
marks: ‘We rubbed it into them good and plenty.’”

 
- his belt,’ said Earl eagerly.

| “Doesn’t it glitter?
| with a beautiful, pearl-handled, glittering thing like that?”

ing’ shooting match.

“That is not the proper way to close it.

 

 

 

NEW BUPP ATO

There was a bigger cheer for Bob Martin than for any
of the others. The little fellow was popular with almost
every. one, Earl Rossiter glared at him. _. gh

“Tid: like to choke you,’ he muttered under his breath.

| “But wait till I get at the box with the papers. in it and

title deeds. I'll turn the whole lot of you out of your
gold mine in jig time.”

“What's that you say?” asked Rosalie.

“Go ahead and try to get Ted Strong’s revolver out/ of
“Here are some cartridges.
Put those in his weapon instead of the ones already in it.

| Just borrow it for a little while.”

Rosalie hid the doctored cartridges in her handkerchief

and slipped over to where Ted stood.

“l’m getting angry with you,” she pouted. “I think it’s
mean of you to treat me the way you haye been treating
me. You were going to explain everything to me, and take
care of me, and all that, and then you suddenly run off
and leave me without a word.”

“T am sure I beg your pardon,” smiled Ted. “What was
I talking about when I left you? What was it that you
wanted explained?”

“You were just going to show me your revolver and tell

| me how it worked. Somehow weapons have a sort of fas-
| cination for me.”

“One of the other boys might have shown you the same

thing.”

“But I wanted you to show me.”
Ted sat down on the bench beside her and drew forth

his weapon.

“Oh; how lovely !” said Rosalie, reaching for it.
And to. think you could kill people

“Be careful,” said Ted. “Don’t touch the trigger. Keep

it pointed toward the ground.”

“Ted, come here for a moment. I want to talk to you

right away,” said Earl Rossiter. Ted reached for his
_ weapon.

“Let me hold it till you come back,” pleaded Rosalie.

' “JT promise to be careful.”

“Hurry up, will you?” said Rossiter.

Ted stepped away for a moment to talk about the com-
In the moment while his back was
turned Rosalie, holding the weapon low and out of sight,

threw the chamber open and changed the cartridges for
| the doctored ones she had in her handkerchief.

‘Ted returned to her side a moment later. He took the

: weapon in his hand, looked at it, and then his brown eyes

met hers in a searching gaze. There was a look of pity
in those eyes stich as Rosalie had never seen before in

the eyes of any man—a look that she could not under- _

stand and could not endure. She dropped her own, and
felt the hot blood running to her face.

“You forgot to close that chamber,” said Ted softly.
It should be
snapped quite tight, like this. So!”

She heard the click of the weapon, and looked up at
Ted Strong in affright and shame.

Again she met his eyes. She saw pity in those eyes
still. She had expected anger, but saw only a sort of con-
tempt, not unmixed with kindness, that was harder to
bear and more humiliating. She knew the wonderful
power of her own eyes, the magnetism and fascination that
she could exert through them, and they had never failed
her before. But now she felt them powerless.

- Ted Strong threw open the chamber of the revolver and
drew forth the six cartridges that it contained.

“Would you do me the favor of handing me those car-

tridgesthat you have in your handkerchief?” he said: His |

tone was kind and courteous, and there was a slight smile,
as well as.a look of sadness, on his face.

Rosalie’s right hand opened automatically, as though she
had nothing to do with it at all. Within it lay her hand-
kerchief, crumpled in a ball and damp with perspiration.
It fell open and disclosed the six cartridges within it.
Ted picked them out and replaced them in his weapon.

“I chose these cartridges with a great deal of care,”
he said, “and if it is all the same to you I think that t
will retain them. It is my turn to shoot now, and I beg
you to.excuse me-for the present.”

 

Br Way. 25

Ted rose to his feet and walked away, leaving Rosalie
Winters gazing at the ground, her face crimson, her whole
frame trembling with fear and confusion. '

CHAPTER VII.
A DOUBLE VICTORY.

The spectators were all silent. So far the games had
been well contested, and the cheers as first Black Mountain
and then Sunset Ranch scored, one after another, keeping
neck and neck all the time, had been uproarious. But as
the contest drew on toward a close and both sides were
still so evenly matched that it was impossible to tell which
had the better chance, the: excitement grew so tense that
even the shouting stopped. A great many people there
were surprised by the showing made by the youngsters.
They had expected the professionals hired by Rossiter. to
make them look like monkeys when it came to roping and
riding, but they found that this was not the case. Ted
himself had won the target-shooting contest with rifle and
revolver, While Kit Summers had been defeated by a nar-
row margin while shooting with the rifle.

Ben Tremont had lost’ in the lasso-throwing contest,
but Bud Morgan had scored a second. The regular
schedule of sports that had been planned out had now
drawn to a close, and yet neither Sunset Ranch nor Black
Mountain was the victor. On points, according to the
prearranged methods of scoring, they tied» It was neces
sary to hold one more event to decide the day.

Tom Black and his college friends were uproarious.
They had plunged heavily on Ted Strong and his friends,
knowing little about the preparations that Rossiter had
made for their defeat. Rossiter himself was pale and
silent. He had placed all his available money. on_ this
contest, being absolutely sure of winning, and ‘already he
was tasting the bitterness of defeat’ It seemed to him that
the young roughriders were invincible, that they could
be beaten at nothing. He saw ruin staring him: in the
face, for he must pay if he lost, and it would take his
last cent. The extra event which was to decide the
superiority of either the Sunset Ranch men or the boys
from. Black Mountain as cowboys and Westerners. was
to be a shooting contest, firing, cowboy fashion, with a
revolver, at glass balls tossed in the air, while riding a
horse about in a circle at full gallop.

There was a loud cheer, breaking the silence suddenly
and ending as suddenly when Ted Strong stepped into
the inclosure to represent the Black Mountain Ranch.
Kit Summers led out his horse, Black Bess, and Ted vaulted
on its back, thrust his feet into the big box stirrups, and
glanced at his two revolvers and the string of cartridges
which ran around his waist.

“Ready?” asked the cowboy who was riding alongside
to toss the balls into the air for Ted to shoot at. iS

Ted nodded his head, shook the reins loose on the neck
of his pony, and drew both his revolvers. The long bar-
rels gleamed in the sun like silver as the young rider held
them poised before him, guiding his horse by knee pres-
sure alone.

The cowboy who was to toss the balls into the air
slipped into the saddle of a cow pony, over the neck of
which a basket containing the balls had been slung. Clap-
ping spurs to the sides of his steed, he went off around
the ring at a full gallop. After him went Black Bess, going
behind him like a black shadow, never getting too near him
and never falling too far behind. The cowboy began to
toss the balls into the air. One went shimmering up,
gleaming in the sunlight.

Crack! Ted’s revolver spoke, and it was shattered into
a thousand pieces. Another went up. The flash came .
from the other weapon of the young roughrider this time.
So they went around twice, and when the second circle had
been completed, ten glass balls had been thrown up and
nine of them had been shattered. aS

Manley, the crack shot whom Rossiter had hired for
the occasion, now mounted his horse and duplicated Ted’s
performance. He was not the same graceful, swaying
figure in the saddle as the young roughrider, and he fired
with less ease and more effort in aiming, but he dupli-
cated Ted’s count and shattered nine balis out of ten
fired at. — :

 
26

NEW BUFFALO

A deep-drawn sigh of suspense floated up from the
spectators. This only made the contest more exciting than
ever. Rossiter leaped to his feet, ran over to Manley,
and whispered in his ear.

“To all you know,” he said. “Do your. very best. If
you win this contest you get twenty-five dollars extra.”

Manley nodded’ and trotted into the inclosure again.
This time he gave a remarkable exhibition of accurate and
rapid firing with the revolver. The man who had charge
of the glass balls threw them up into the air, not at reg-
ular intervals as before, but as fast as his. hand could
grasp them and cast them forth. They went up so rap-

idly that often two, or even three, were in the air at the
same time. Manley rode after them, firing at them as rap-
idly as he could work his guns. At the end of a minute
thirty balls had been tossed into the air, and Manley had
«shattered seventeen of them. The greater number of his
misses were caused by the fact that after his twelfth shot
he had to slip fresh cartridges into the chambers of his
two six-shooters. He did this with a speed which an East-
ernér might deem impossible, but for all that it took time,
and during that time the cowboy was still tossing glass
balls into the air.

A cheer broke the silence when Manley dropped from
the back of his horse. No one there supposed for a mo-
ment that such shooting could be beaten, and Earl Rossiter
was jubilant.

He glanced over toward Tom Black. Black was frown-
ing, and had his hands thrust deep into his pockets.

-. “Well?” said Rossiter, “looks as if my men had it,
doesn’t it?”

“Tt isn’t over yet,” said Black.

_ “Ted Strong is going to shoot again,” said Rosalie Win-
ters. “There he goes.”

The girl had grown very pale now. She knew that Ted
knew of her effort to change the cartridges, and she could
not understand his attitude. She turned to Earl Rossiter
and told him all about it in a low whisper. At first Earl
frowned; but when Rosalie told him that Ted had spoken
quite pleasantly to her after his discovery, and that he had
not called the attention of any one else to it, he smiled.

“He’s the queerest boy I ever saw,” said Rosalie.

_“Plain as day,” said Earl. “It’s easy to understand him.
He’s simply mashed on you, that’s all, He’s so fond of
. you that you can do anything you please with him.”

Rosalie flushed again and her eyes brightened. This
view of the matter had occurred to her before, and now
that Earl Rossiter had suggested it, too, she decided that
it was the correct explanation of Ted Strong’s behavior.

“He's the softest fellow in the world, where girls are
concerned,’ continued Eatl, in a very superior tone.
“Every new face he sees, especially if it’s a pretty one,
- sets him off his base.. That's his weak point, and let me
tell you that you have him on a string. You will have
no trouble getting him to show you those law papers and
finding out where he keeps them. Good luck is with me
this time, sure enough. We have his men beaten on this
contest, and we have him on the land as soon as we get
hold of those papers and destroy them. He never can
equal Manley’s shooting.”

“Hush!” said Rosalie quietly. “People will hear you.
There he goes. He’s getting on the back of his horse now.
I wonder what he'll shoot at this time?”

-Ted had taken Bud Morgan aside and spoken to him in
a low voice for a moment or two. Bud Morgan nodded
stepped out of the inclosure, and came out again with a
stick of pine wood a foot and a half long and several
inches through in his hand. In the meantime Ted had
brought his horse about at the other end of the inclosure
and started forward at full speed ata shout from Bud
Morgan.

As Bud Morgan shouted he swung: back his hand, and
with a dexterous fling, sent his stick of pine wood hurtling
; up into the air for perhaps forty feet. It turned over and
. over in the air, and as Ted charged toward it he opened
fire at it ve both revolvers simtiltaneously. The cracks
Came in rapid succession, and the surprised specta
chips of the flying stick knocked hey it hiatied hve
the air. The two revolvers were speaking so rapidly that

BILL. WEEKLY.

the bullets seemed to come from them in a continuous
stream. Ted was riding across the arena at full speed, At
first he was firing forward at the stick as it went hurtling
up from Bud’s hand. Then he was firing up at it as it turned
in the air preparatory to falling again, almost directly over
his head. Then he was around in the saddle, firing back
at it as it dropped and he raced away from it. It was
only a matter of a few seconds from the time Ted started
till the moment when his horse halted. In that time both
of his six-shooters had been emptied at a flying mark, and,
so. far as could be seen, every shot had found that mark.
When Bud Morgan picked up the stick, it was riddled and
shattered, splintered’ and smashed, pierced with bullet
holes in every direction and with bullets still sticking in the
soft wood. Bud held it up so that all could look at it.
There was silence for a moment, then a wild cheer as
Tom Black and his friends dashed into the inclosure, fol-
lowed by the young roughriders, to lift Ted from the back
of his horse and carry him in triumph on their shoulders,
Black Mountain had lived up to its traditions and won
the match, for Manley, the Sunset Ranch crack shot, could
never hope to equal the exhibition that Ted had given.
Rossiter sank into his chair, pale and despairing. He had
lost again—all the money he had.

“Never mind,” he muttered. ‘Rosalie will find out where
those papers are. I must get them now. Then I can
raise money on the strength of my claim to the Yellow
River Mine. JI must get those papers, or I am ruined.
I must get them! I guess I need.a drink. I guess I'll go
into the house and get a drink.”

He slipped away from the others, and a little later was
locked in an upper room, a bottle and glass before him,
a bottle half empty, and his eyes gleaming with a wild
fire. .

It was a beautiful moonlight night, and Rosalie Winters
was seated on a bench under a spreading tree not far
from the Sunset Ranch house. Every window of. the
ranch house gleamed like a plate of gold, for the house
was all lit up and a dance was going on inside. Rosalie
Winters had stolen away from the others and was seated
on the bench, and by her side sat Ted Strong.

They had been talking for a long time in low tones, and
Rosalie had been using all het wiles to captivate the young
ranchman. Her white gown shone like the driven’ snow in
the moonlight, and her eyes like stars. They were looking
into Ted’s now, and on the face of the girl was an expres-
sion of triumph. She felt that she could make Ted Strong
do what she pleased now; that he was in her power, a
creature of her will. It seemed to her that his admiration
of her shone out from his eyes, and she had lost all her
fear for him. Ted had made absolutely no reference to
his discovery that day, when he had caught her changing
the cartridges in his revolver. She was sure now that Ear!
had been right when he said that Ted’s silence was ‘ex-
plained by the fact that he was smitten by her. Ted had |
deserted Daisy, Louise, and all the others to come out in
the moonlight and to talk to her,

Up to this moment Rosalie had been prompted in what
she did by self-interest and her liking for Earl Rossiter.
Now she began to realize, however, that there was a
charm about Ted Strong, that his face was good and
handsome, his voice sweet and winning, that there was
something in his eyes that made her wish. to look into
them and yet fear to do it. As for Ted, he felt as though
he were in a dream. Whenever he looked at Rosalie he
felt the strange magnetism that she possessed. He had
been puzzled by her at first, and knew that he could not
trust her, and yet he did not want to leave her and go
inside, The music, muffled and sweet, that came from
within the house, the soft shuffle of dancing feet, the pale
moonlight that seemed to glorify everything, all had their
effect on him, and now as he sat beside Rosalie and lis- .
tened to her low, soft voice as she talked, it seemed that
he was dreaming or enchanted; that he had left the world
altogether and never wished to return to it again. He
had forgotten all about Daisy Miller now, and all about
Louise Rossiter. They were both inside, and both knew
that he was sitting alone in the moonlight with the dark-
eyed girl.

<Q BE CONTINUED.

 
 

 

  

THE NEWS OF THE WORLD.

 

 

¢

American Steamer in Hot Sea Fight.

Another thrilling story of an American vessei’s fight
with a German submarine has been brought to light.
Escaping from the German submarine after a bitter
fight lasting nearly four hours, and with nine of her
crew wounded, two of them seriously, the steamer
arrived in France recently from an American port.
The timely intervention of an American destroyer
alone saved the ship from being sent to the bottom.

A few hours after the vessel had entered the danger
zone a lookout sighted a submarine on the port bow,
but before he had time to report its presence the sub-
marine fired a shot, which missed the stern of the
ship by but a few yards.

The gun crews of the submarine and the steamer
then began to exchange shots. The chief gunner of
the steamer opened fire at a range of 9,000 yards, but
all of the shots fell short. The submarine kept maneu-
vering to keep out of the range of the steamer’s guns,
at the same time maintaining a running fire in an
effort to disable them. The merchant ship, after alter-
ing her course, started at full speed in an attempt to
escape.

The fierceness of the battle is indicated by the fact
that the submarine fired 234 shots at the steamer,
which responded with more than 260 shots.

After the fight had continued for about two hours
and several shots had struck the ship, wounding four
men, one shell hit the vessel and exploded in the en-
gine room, putting the engines out of commission and
rendering the ship helpless.

A high sea was running at the time, and there
seemed little hope of saving the ship, when a low
streak of black smoke was sighted on the horizon.
It later proved to be an American torpedo-boat de-
stroyer, coming at full speed, running right into the
sea and at times nearly disappearing from view.

The destroyer had heard the calls for aid sent out
by the steamer and traveled at a speed of as high as
30 knots to come to her assistance. She immediately
made for the submarine, which dived and disappeared
beneath the surface. The American warship circled
about the spot, dropping a few depth charges, but no
more signs of the U-boat were seen.

The wounded were transferred to a hospital. Two
of them belong to the gun crew and seven to the ship’s
crew. The steamer was not hit below the water line,
but her cargo caught fire during the engagement.

Call for Pennies Swamps Mint.

So extraordinary is the demand for pennies now
that the United States mint in Philadelphia, despite
the fact that it is working twenty-four hours a day,
is unable to keep up with the demand. The institu-
tion is 10,000,000 pennies behind orders. An average
of 1,500,000 pennies are coined daily.

The Fattest Fish.

In these days of the high cost of living, when the
little fish known to science as the eulachon is in good
health and condition it is the fattest fish in the world.
Although oily, it is digestible and of excellent flavor,
resembling the common smelt. In fact, it is popularly
known as the Columbia River smelt. The eulachon is
a native of the Pacific, and runs up the Columbia River
in enormous numbers during the annual spawning sea-
son. Each run of fish spawns only once, after which
all the fish die. The United States Bureau of Fish-
eries has recently announced that the eulachon should
be much more widely used for food than it is at
present,

Fire Fighting at Sea.

Sea fires have always been classed among the most
dangerous of marine accidents, and with a war now
in progress one would be the most awful calamity.
The confined space in the hold of a vessel and the
tightness with which it is inclosed render it peculiarly
fitted to gather great clouds of mephitic gases, which
imperil the lives of the crew when they attempt to
locate and drown the fire. Recently an invention de-
signed to make the quenching of these hold fires safer
and more effective has been designed. The fire hose
is lowered into the hold from the deck, and it termi-
nates in a multiple nozzle with mouths aimed in all
directions. A pressure pump forces water through the
nozzle at the rate of 15,000 gallons a minute, and any-
thing within 100 feet in any direction is sure of a
thorough soaking.

Fall from Horse Kills Baby.

While visiting his grandparents at Fairview, Wil-
lard Brooks, from Afton, Wyoming, aged six, was
killed by a fall from a horse recently. The little lad
was accompanyimg his grandfather, George Brooks,
while he was working about the barn. Mr. Brooks
was unharnessing a team, and while taking the har-
ness off of one of the horses placed the boy on the
other animal. The child fell from the horse, and in
some way must have been stepped on or kicked.

The small boy was brought to his home in Afton,
at which place he died.

Leave Baby in Car at Change of Train.

Transferring at Oelwein, Iowa, into another car .
when the St. Paul-Kansas City train on which they
were traveling was split up there, Mr. and Mrs. Beal,
of Bismarck, North Dakota, forgot their baby.

When the train arrived in Waterloo, Iowa, they
were asked, as a result of considerable telegraphing,
whether they had forgotten anything. A tearful scene,
not unmixed with domestic recriminations, followed.

The Beals went to Dubuque after the baby, which
had got that far on its journey toward Chicago.

  

    
28

NEW BUFFALO

New Gas Kills Regiments.

A gas infinitely more deadly than the German mus-
tard gas has been recently perfected by the French,
and is killing entire regiments of the kaiser’s forces
at a time, according to a report brought by two Amer-
ican ambulance drivers who arrived aboard an Amer-
ican steamship. They also tell of a wonderfully clever
“Trojan-horse” trick played upon the Germans by the
French.

The ambulance drivers, Harold L. Humphreys, of
Van Wert, Ohio, and Conrad Hedin, of Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, at Cambridge, Massachusetts,
have been with Section 66, American Field Service,
and were attached to the French chasseurs.

“We were in the Chemin des Dames region on the
Aisne front part of the time,” said Mr. Humphreys.
“That is a front which is not relished by anybody.
There is no resting there. The guns go night and
day and have been going for many months.

“When the Germans started using their most re-
cently discovered gas, which makes breathing even
through masks very hard, the French bethought’ them-
selves of some retaliatory measures, and they hit upon
a gas compared to which the German mustard gas is as
harmless as a delicate perfume. The French gas defies
masks altogether, is entirely odorless, and has the
disconcerting characteristic of causing an instanta-
neous hemorrhage of the lungs. In one instance it
was used to such good advantage that 1,500 Prussians
dropped dead in their tracks.”

Rejected Man Ends Life in Sea.

Rejected by the girl he loved, the second steward
of a steamship which reached an Atlantic port recently
from Porto Rico jumped into the sea and was lost.

The ¢aptain of the vessel, who reported the suicide,
said the steward, L. Christoffesen, a Dane, whose home
was in Brooklyn, had been a good-natured fellow, al-
ways full of fun and laughter until he met the girl
who fascinated him. This was several weeks ago.
He lost all his mirth, continually was sighing, and be-
came moody and brooding. ;

“When we were about twelve ghours from Porto
Rico,” said the captain, “one of. the passengers sent
for the steward. He could not be found. The vessel
was searched in vain. At last a note written by Chris-
toffesen was discovered in his cabin. It read:

“The girl I love does not want me. I don’t care
to live. By the time you read this I will be gone.
I leave my money in the bank to Doctor George C.
Charttes and the chief steward, to be divided between
them equally.”

_ Ina drawer a bank book was found, showing de-
posits of more than $1,000.

i Helen Cudahy Missing.

Her nerves racked by the hidden dangers of a voy-
age through the submarine zone, according to her
friends and companions on the ship, Miss Helen
Cudahy, daughter of Patrick Cudahy, millionaire meat
packer of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and niece of BoA.
Cudahy, of Chicago, plunged to death from an Atlantic

BILL. WEEKLY.

passenger steamer lately, as stated by cable dispatches
received from France.

Miss Cudahy left New York for Paris to join a relief
unit under the direction of Miss Edith May, which
supplies equipment to outlying hospitals near the cap-
ital, and which offered an opportunity for use of her
skill as a fast, accurate automobile driver.

According to reports received, Miss Cudahy was in
the best of spirits during the early days of the voy-
age. As the submarine zone was entered and the fre-
quent lifeboat drills and enforced absence of lights at
night reflected itself on the nerves of the more timid
passengers, who heard in every jar of the ship’s pro-
pellers'a danger warning, Miss Cudahy kept below
decks and in her stateroom most of the time. A con-
voying warship failed to reassure her,

A friend, entering her stateroom one night for a
chat, found the porthole covering swinging idly to and
fro on its hinges, an empty room, and the following
hastily written note:

“Tt is all for the best. Keep as much as possible
from father and mother. Notify my brother Michael.”

Search of the boat failed to reveal any further eévi-
dence of her disappearance or any person who wit-
nessed the tragedy.

Miss Cudahy was twenty-six years old, tall, very
athletic, and fond of horseback riding and motoring.

Morgan’s Son in Navy.

J. P. Morgan’s son is now serving as an ensign
aboard a ship doing duty in European waters, and
Vincent Astor has been on duty over there for some
time past.

Milk for Russian Babies.

The American Red Cross at Washington announced
recently that owing to the great scarcity of wholesome
milk in Russia, the Red Cross had purchased a mil-
lion pounds of condensed milk for the babies in that
country. Shipment will be made immediately.

The money for this milk was appropriated on the
receipt of urgent messages from William B. Thomp-
son, chairman of the Red Cross Commission to Russia,
and Doctor Frank Billings, of Chicago. Reports from
the American Red Cross Commission to Russia have
stated that nothing could be more heartening to many
of the Russian people at present than providing nour-
ishment for their babies.

Another million pounds is to be shipped later. It
is probable that further supplies will be sent to the
limit of transportation facilities. In subsequent ship-
ments each can of condensed milk will bear a label in
Russian, reading: “From Free America to Free Rus-
sia.”

The original purchase was made through the Belgian
Relief Commission. Special attention was given to
obtaining milk which would retain its nutritive value
under the frigid temperature of Russia.

The Russian government has arranged to release
cars from war service to carry this milk to distribut-
ing centers as soon as the shipment arrives.

 
 

NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY, “9

Miners Get Raise; Coal Price Higher.

An increase of 45 cents in the price of bituminous
coal has been granted through proclamation of Presi-
dent Wilson. It will take care of wage raises recently
agreed upon by the operators and miners; and the
miners, thousands of whom recently struck in Illinois,
Indiana, and Ohio, received the new scale in their
envelopes.

Two exceptions to the order are stated in President
Wilson’s proclamation, as follows:

1. This increase in prices shall not apply to any coal
sold at the mine under an existing contract containing
a provision for an increase in the price of coal there-
under in case of an increase in wages paid to miners.

2. This increasé shall not apply to any district in
which the operators and miners fail to agree upon a
_ penalty provision satisfactory to the fuel adminis-
trator for the automatic collection of fines in the spirit
of the agreement entered into between the operators
and miners at Washington, October 6, 1917.

The second exception is designed especially to bring
the miners of Missouri, Arkansas, Kansas, and Okla-
homa into line. The miners of these Southwestern
States voted two weeks ago to strike because of their
objection to the penalty provision in the Washington
agreement. :

It is the belief of Mr. Garfield that as a result of
increased wages strikes henceforth during the war
will be at an end. The wage agreement between op-
erators and miners contained a stipulation that the
contract should run for the period of the war, or not
more than two years from April 1, 1918.

Charlie White in Army.

Charlie White, Chicago’s lightweight champion, has
a new manager in Uncle Sam, and from now on the
left-hook expert will not be troubled over a scarcity
of opponents. White has signed to box 25,000 pro-
spective champions of the world, for he has been ap-
pointed boxing instructor at Camp Grant, Rockford.

It’s the same job Benny Leonard, the title holder,
accepted at an Eastern training camp, and while
Charles is teaching the Sammies how to wallop the
kaiser with their mitts he will also condition himself
for a. battle with Leonard, something he has been
after for several months.

According to Nate Lewis, Charlie’s manager, he was
forced to call off six profitable matches because of
White’s desire to take the Rockford job, and White
will not engage in any scraps until the “selects” are
first-class ring battlers. He will get a salary of $1,800
a year, will live in a barracks, and wear a uniform
just like a regular soldier.

Auto Backfire Mistaken for Gun.

“Captured by a muffler!”
| Such was the sad distinction that fell to the lot of
_E. E. Campbell, in Los Angeles, recently, the man
who succeeded in escaping central police station and
a dozen patrolmen, detectives, and men and women,
only to fall prey to several sharp explosions in the
exhaust pipe of the big gray ambulance.

Campbell was brought in by officers of the metro-

ypolitan squad and lined up against Desk Sergeant
Jackson’s window, charged with gambling.
Campbell made his way through an open window,

then, like a streak, was off, with the officers and others

close behind.

"Twas here that the ambulance muffler came into
play. When the commotion started, Ambulance Driver
Knapp jumped into the seat of his big automobile and
shot away, thinking of heading the fleeing man off.

“Bang! Bang!” came two sharp reports from the
muffler of the ambulance.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I give up!” yelled
Campbell, and as Knapp ground the brakes to bring

_the car to a stop the fugitive walked toward him, both.

hands up in the air.
Campbell was taken back and booked on the charge
of conducting gambling.

Widowed Mother Gives Son to Army.

Members of a draft board in Cincinnati, Ohio, re-
cently were thrilled upon receipt of a letter from a
mother “who is a real patriot,” as Chairman Sullivan
described her.

Several weeks ago Joseph W. Aylar, of Walnut
Hills, was called for examination. He claimed exemp-
tion as the support of his widowed mother. The ex-
emption was readily granted.

The mother wrote to the draft examiners, saying

that when her son asked for exemption it was because
he thought he owed her a duty first.

“Now,” writes the mother, “conditions have changed
and my son need not consider me. I am writing to
ask that his exemption be withdrawn and that he be
permitted to go with the next increment of selectives
to Camp Sherman.” The son appended his request
to be sent to camp, and his request was granted.

“There is the spirit of America! Hats off to Mrs.
Aylar!” exclaimed Chairman Sullivan.

The widowed mother, who is nearly sixty years old,
obtained work so she would be self-supporting, Sul-
livan explained.

Disease Bombs Hurled by Teutons.

The most recent ebullition of Teuton kultur, as prac-
ticed on European battlefields, was described by Edith
M. Lowe recently—a Los Angeles woman who for the
past three years has seen service in England as the
sister in charge at Norwich Hospital, Norwich, Eng-
land, but who at present is visiting friends in this city.

The latest creation, says Miss Lowe, is the German
disease bomb. These bombs, resembling very mucli
hand, grenades, are filled with thousands of germs of
virulent disease, and are dropped from aéroplanes and
thrown into the trenches much in the same manner as
explosive grenades are handled.

Most of the bombs produce a very malignant form
of measles, this being apparently the first disease suc-
cessfully experimented with.

Miss Lowe also declares that barbarities practiced
on English prisoners by the Germans are proving a
boomerahg.

“The report that Germans are making glycerin from
the bodies of their own and Allied soldiers is very
true,” she said. “The bodies are looped together and

 
30 NEW BUFFALO

shipped to German chemical factories, where. the

ghoulish performance of manufacturing a very im-

portant munition product, glycerin, is gone through

with by unsentimental disciples of Teuton kultur.
“These barbarities succeed in stimulating the activi-

ties of our soldiers, nevertheless, and in the end the |

Germans feel the wrath of the Allies.

“Recently members of the Canadian Princess Pat’s
Regiment, in advancing on German trenches, found
two English officers hung with their heads down. In
the same engagement the incensed Princess Pats cap-
tured 300 Teutons.”

Miss Lowe says that only about 25 per cent of the
very serious wounds are fatal. The others generally
return to the firing line. The percentages of deaths
from all wounds, serious and minor, is very small, she
declares, owing to the efficiency of modern surgery.

Tom Longboat Not Dead.

Tom Longboat, the famous Indian Marathon run-
ner, who has been twice unofficially reported killed
in action in France, is still alive, a recent news report
states. Captain Tom Flanagan, former manager of
the Indian, who went overseas with the same bat-
talion, and has returned to Canada, had a letter from
him in which he threatens to take action against an
Indian in the United States who has been representing
himself as Longboat.

Takes First Drink at Seventy-four.

Peter Sullivan, placed in the city jail in Butte, Mon-
tana, recently, on a drunkenness charge, said he took
his first drink of whisky at the age of seventy-four,
and promised it would be his last.

“Some friends started me on Rhine wine, then they
induced me to drink a ginger-ale high ball, and here
cam.) ‘

“They ought to be arrested for leading a young fel-
low like you astray,” the jailer told Sullivan.

“They'll never do it again,” the prisoner said. “I
don’t want to stunt my growth by drinking whisky.”

American Soldiers Learn New Superstitions.

Recent reports show that American soldiers “some-
where in France” are learning that superstition plays
its part in the war. The French soldiers have ac-
quainted them with this fact, for they are great
believers in omens, and some of them decline to zo
into battle unless supplied with talismans or charms
of some sort calculated to bring them good luck. In
fact, many soldiers depend on charms to bring them
safely through the conflict, whether they are British,
Canadians, French, Irish, or Australians. So when it
is considered how eecnsive is the feeling among the
allied soldiers that faith must be placed in charms
and attention paid to omens, there is reason to believe
that American soldiers will in time become imbued
with the same ideas.

The Americans already have learned that thie Peek
soldiers consider it an omen of ill luck if three soldiers
undertake to light their cigarettes or pipes with ui
same match. It is said that the origin of this supe
stition has been traced to the English army. A ae
is told of a young French lieutenant who, wishing to

BILL WEEKLY,

prove to his friends that there was nothing in the
superstition, consented to light his cigarette after
two of his companicns had used the same’match. He
was the third man to use it; and the following day,
while engaged in battle, a German shell killed him.

French soldiers have taught their American compan-
ions that great reljance can be placed in gold coins
by those who enter battle. Whenever it is possible
to procure such coins the French make it a point to
do so, and some of them sew coins in their coats in
such a way that they form a shield over the heart.
The idea is that if a bullet strikes this shield of. coin
it will be deflected without injuring the wearer,

Lost His Show.

Irwin M. Alderman, a showman, called at the police.
station in Brooklyn recently and asked the police and
dog catchers to lend their assistance in a hunt for
his show dog which had got loose from its master.
Mr. Alderman said that the dog’s name was “Teddy,”
that it was thirteen years old, and that it was a trick
dog of the vaudeville caliber.

Find Use for River Boats.

A scheme for using Hudson River steamers and
other excursion craft for housing workmen engaged
in shipbuilding for the government was taken up re-
cently by Chairman Hurley, of the Shipping Board,
and the secretary of war. The idea’ originated with
Charles W. Morse, head of the Hudson River Naviga-
tion Company, who has offered his entire fleet of boats
to the government.

The government has found itself seriously handi-
capped in providing living accommodations for hun-
dreds of workmen in various shipyards. With the
yards being worked at full capacity and with forces
in many of them trebled, it has been impossible for
some communities to find suitable room.

Mr. Hurley estimated that at least 25 vessels now
laid up for the winter months would be immediately
available if the government favored the scheme. The
secretary of war expressed himself as impressed with
the idea. He will confer with other government of-
ficials and let Mr. Hurley know the decision, he said,
within a few days.

Besides the Morse steamers, the government might
use the Atlantic Highlands boats, the Coney Island
steamers, the Grand Republic of the Rockaway line,
and probably several of the Great Lakes steamers.

Two Hundred in Elevaters Flee from Fire.

Two hundred employees, most of them girls, were
rushed to safety through billows of smoke recently by
two elevator operators working at top speed in the
burning seven-story Electrical Exchange Building at
No. 186 Liberty Street and No. 141 Cedar Street, New
York. The fire did $100,000 damage.

Two firemen were cut by glass, and two others were
overcome by smoke in a daring effort to force a line
of hose through an upper window while they clung
to a fire escape in a shower of burning brands.

The blaze, of unknown origin, started at five-fifteen
o'clock on the third floor and swiftly gained headway-

 
  

      

| It shot through the elevator shafts just after the last
| batch of employees had been taken to the street.
| Mushrooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh
or the flames finally ate through the roof.

   

Deserter Gets Ten Years.

: The decision of the court-martial of the Eighty-
MW second Army Division at Camp Gordon in the case
4 Hof Otto K. Brennan, of Ashport, Tennessee, who de-
Iserted September 7th and was subsequently captured,
has just been made public. The deserter gets 10 years
at hard labor in the Federal penitentiary, Atlanta, and
is to be discharged from the army dishonorably.
Brennan is twenty-three years old and a farmer.
His only plea to the charge of desertion was that he
could not kill another and retain his religious convic-
is. He quoted the commandment: “Thou shalt not

 
  
   
 
   
 
  

Escaped Draft, Not Conscience.

Until recently he had a good job and his name was
ja long way down in the draft list. Folks said he was
Mucky and congratulated him—that is, some folks did.
# Others looked at him a little oddly, thoughtfully, a sort
lof measuring up in their glance.

At first it seemed to him there was only one sensible

thing to do—go right along with his job, enjoying an
occasional show and dance and the hours of leisure
that his work permitted. He would go on with his
plans, too, of saving some of his salary every month
toward buying the home that was to be his some day
fwhen he should marry and settle down.

It wasn’t his fault, he told himself, that his name
fwas so far down in the draft. He had taken his
chances in the big game just ‘like the others had
and had merely been luckier. He would stay behind
funtil they reached him in the draft.

But somehow it wasn’t so easy as he had thought
nt would be. One after another of his friends went
into the service. They had all gone rather joyously,
laughingly making sport of the horrors “over there.”
Psome of them already.were “somewhere in France.”
pEverywhere he. went. there were soldiers, men. who
fhad given up the things he purposed to keep and
penjoy.
| After a while he began to look away when he met
Fone of these soldiers. He tried not to meet many of
them, too... And he began to feel aware of people ob-
serving him, taking note of his broad shoulders and
fhealthy, husky appearance. There was something ap-
praising, accusing, he felt, in those looks that were
tbestowed upon him. Perhaps he really wasn’t being
Moticed in.this way at all, but he imagined he was,
Pwhich’ amounted to the same in its effect upon him.

And then a few days ago he realized that he could
mot stay behind—he did not have the courage to. It
‘required less fortitude, less nerve to go face the bul-
ets than it did to stay behind and face those things
which are worse than bullets—contempt, scorn, pity.
‘He comprehended, too, what it would mean to Him-
self if he did not go; in all the years that he would
live he would know that he had failed in one big
hour. He might endure what others said and thought

NEW BUFFALO

 

BILL WEEKLY. 31

 

of him, but he felt that he never could endure that
unsparing condemnation of his own soul.

Mentally he footed up what it would cost him—
comfort, ease, and: leisure, savings, chances of ad-
vancement and perhaps even life itself and all that life
meant, its dreams and hopes and longings. But to stay
behind would cost him his self-respect, the thing that
nce true man can afford ever to lose. Better to die
out in the wind-bitten wastes of the North Sea or
in the shell-battered ditches in France than to live
self-appraised and adjudged a craven: so he has just
enlisted..

Wants to Buy the “America.”

Four times challenger for the America’s Cup, Sir
Thomas Lipton lately, expressed a desire to purchase
the schooner yacht America, which brought the cup
to this country in 1851. In a cablegram to Hollis Bur-
gess, of Boston, Massachusetts, he said that he had
just heard that the famous racer was for sale, and
asked to be informed immediately as to the price and
other particulars. Mr. Burgess turned the message
over to C. H. W. Foster and Henry A. Taggard, Boston
yachtsmen, who recently bought the America to save
her’ from being broken up for junk.

Members of the New York Yacht Club, custodian
of the America’s Cup, also are said to be anxious to
purchase the yacht, but the present owners, have: not
announced whether they will sell. ;

If the America remains on this side of the Atlantic,
it is said she will be used either as a yacht or as a
marine museum. It is understood the plan of the
New York men is to employ the vessel as a perma-
nent committee boat for yacht races. Sir Thomas Lip-
ton gave no indication as to what use he would make
of the boat if he secured it; but yachting men thought
he might want the old racer for a pleasure yacht here
when racing is resumed after the war.

- Survivor of Massacre Dead.. .

Said by his family to have been in the Custer mas-
sacre forty years ago, Henry Petring, aged sixty-three,
is dead of pneumonia at his home in New York He
was born in New York and early in life he joined the
army. He was with General Custer in the Seventh
Cavalry, Troop G, when it was sent forth at the Sioux
Indian uprising under Sitting Bull.

According to the family of Petring, as he told them

the story of his adventure, he escaped death by se-

creting himself in the hollow of a tree, where he re-
mained for several days after the massacre.

Fewer Letters Likely with Three-cent Postage.

It is the estimate of the government that the in-—
crease in postage rates will add $70,000,000 a year to
the Federal revenue. The estimate may prove high.
One New Yorker who writes on an.average from 50
to 75 letters a day has made public announcement that
hereafter he will tequire his correspondents to furnish
stamped envelopes for replies in all cases unrelated to
his direct business.

There is likely to be a pronounced decrease, too, in

 

   
32 so NEW BUPFAL
third-class mail matter. Printers who made a spe-
cialty of getting out catalogues are in a bad way.
They say the increase in the cost of paper, ink, and
labor has made all business houses that put out cata-
logues reduce the size of their publications and hes
led to some dropping the issuances altogether.

Necessarily, if there is pronounced curtailinent. in
catalogue making, the engraving, stereotyping, and
allied businesses will be affected. Commercial artists
will have less calls upon their time, and incidentaily
paper and ink salesmen may come down to earth.
They have been in the clouds for a long time, and
their price lists with them.

Francis W. Doughty Dead.

Francis Worcester Doughty, author of more than
1,200 detective stories and creator of “Old King Brady”
and the “Nick Carter” variety, died in his sixty-seventh
year recently at ‘his home in CresskiJ, New Jersey.
Mr. Doughty’s detective stories were printed in many
languages and were read eagerly by the boys of a
generation ago, He was born in Brooklyn, and his
grandfather was the last clerk of the old village of

Brooklyn, after whom Doughty Street was named..

He had lived in Cresskill since 1910.

Boy Wins Men to Gary Plan.

A demonstration of the work done by twelve-year-
oid Lewis Himmelman led a group of labor leaders,
who visited Gary School No. 45, in New York, recentiy
to adopt a resolution strongly commending the Gary
system.

Shortage of copper has made it necessary for the
_ boys to use galvanized iron in their electrical work.
While the. iron served the purpose, it never .looked
’ quite right because the paint cracked off. Shortly be-
fore the labor men arrived young Himmelman had
announced to Louis Margon, his teacher:

“Tve found a way to’ make. paint stick to nretal
without breaking off.” oe

He produced a strip of iron shining with paint,
which was examined by the visitors. The boy ex-
plained that his process was to. heat the iron and
paint it when it was hot. Then he would rub off all the
loose paint and repeat the process, with the result
that the final coat would neither crack nor rub off.

“This boy,” said Andrew Henry, a painter of thirty
years’ experience, who was in the party, “has worked
out something brand-new in the painting trade. We
have been looking for years for some way to make
paint stick to metal of this kind without cracking or
splitting off. I know of ne process that can equal
the discovery of this lad. I have experimented with
the problem and have even gone to England repre-
senting a so-called antirust metal, but it is not in it
with this. The scientific principle is perfect.”

Family Poisoned when Eating Fish.

In Los Angeles recently a man hamed Joe Cangia-
nilla learned that Mayor Woodman had set aside
Tuesday as meatless day, and he took home a. big

package of fish. Later six members of the family,
desperately ill from ptomaine poisoning, were taken

rT
Pet

WEEKLY:

to the receiving hospital for emergency treatment.
They were sent on to the county hospital. Cangianilia
may not recover.

The Cangianilla family ate the fish for supper. When
Mrs. Cangianilla fried it she remarked that she didn't
jie the smell of it, and at the supper table she refused
to partake of the dish; but the other members of
the family ate heartily.

In the morning Cangianilla, who works at night,
returned home very sick. The children started to
school, but soon returned home. With a sick husband
and five sick children on her hands, Mrs. Cangianilla
appealed to the Board ef Health, and a ‘nurse was sent
to her assistatice. The nurse sent the whole family
to the hospital. )

_ Want Greater Speed in Shipbuilding.

The imminent necessity of speeding up ship con-
struction was emphasized at a recent conference in
Washington between Atlantic-coast shipbuilders and
officials of the emergency-fleet corporation, the navy
department, the department of labor, and the Amer-
ican Federation of Labor.

The labor question was discussed in detail, special
consideration being given to feasible methods for at-
tracting skilled workers to shipyards.

Unless the present labor shortage is relieved without
delay, officials assert, it will be necessary to consider
drastic methods of conscription of workmen.

Blindfold, Marines Use Machine Guns.

The United States Marines, in training at Quant.co,
Virginia, forty miles below Washington, have become
so expert in the handling of the Lewis machine gun
that they handle them blindfold.

Secretary of the Navy Daniels and Major General
Barnett, commandant of the Marine Corps, recently
inspected the men at Quantico.

“They certainly are a fine-looking, well-trained ag-
gregation of fighting men,” said Mr. Daniels. “They
are prepared to give an excellent account of them-
selves wherever they may be placed.

“At the time of the Villa raid some of our machine
guns got jammed, temporarily destroying their efli-
ciency. The action occurred at night and the troops

~ could not fix the guns in the dark.

“With a view to guarding against such a contingency ©
where our men may have to use machine guns at
night, we are training them to meet such an emer-
gency. I saw one blindfold man take a jammed gua
and fix it it two minutes. They can fire them or, fix
them at night as well as by daylight. The same rule,
I understand, is being followed in the army.”

Hunt Boy in Gary.

F. J. Bechely, of Chicago, telephoned the Gary police
the other day to the effect that his son Joseph, with
another boy, had left home that morning, and he
thought that they had come to Gary. The police weré
asked to make an effort to find the youths, and in cas¢
they did to notify the father. The boys have not bee! »
located as yet.

i

 
 
New Buffalo Bill
were Weekly = ses

 

 

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. These stories have been read exclusively in this weekly for many years, and are
voted to be masterpieces of Western adventure fiction.

Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to know all there is
to know about him. In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with the actual habits and life of this
great man, as by reading the New Buffalo Bill Weekly.

We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print.

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.

 

61—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Train.
62—Buffalo Bill Among the Blackfeet.
63—Buffalo Bill’s Border Beagles.
64—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black.
65—Buffalo Bill on the Deadwood Trail.
66—Buffalo Bill in the Cafion of Death.
67—Buffalo Bill and Billy, the Kid.
68—-Buffalo Bill and the Robber Ranch.
69—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Wonders.
(0—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.
74—Buffalo Bill’s Searlet Hand.
75—Buffalo Bill Running the Gantlet.
76—Buffalo Bill’s Leap in the Dark,
((—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.
83—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Foe,
84—Buffalo Bill’s Master Stroke.
85—Buffalo Bill and the Skeleton Horse-

man.
86—Buffalo Bill and the Brazos Terror.
87—Buffalo Bill’s Dance of Death.
88—Buffalo Bill and the Creeping Terror.
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 Hye.
109—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band.
110—Buffalo Bill’s Maverick.
111—Buffalo Bill, the White Whirlwind.
112—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico.
113—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.
128—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.
138—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death.
134—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak.
135—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty.

1386—-Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery.
137—Buffalo Bill’s Surprise Party.
138—Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride.
189—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.
153—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards.
154—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé.
155—Buffalo Bill Ensnared.
156—Buffalo Bill’s Pick-up.
157—Buffalo Bill’s Quest.
158—Buffalo Bill’s Waif of the Plains.
159-—Buffalo Bill Baffled.

160—Buffalo Bill Among the Mormons.
161—Buffalo Bill’s Assistance.
162—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—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta.
198—Buffalo Bill Among the Cheyennes.
199—Buffalo Bill Besieged.
200—Buffalo Bill and the Red Hand.
201—Buffalo. Bill’s Tree-Trunk Drift.
202—Buffalo Bill and the Specter.
208—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Message.

204—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Her-

: mosa.

205—Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail.
206—Buffalo Bill’s Quarry.
207—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood.
208—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid.
209—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight.
210—Buffalo Bill Repaid.

211—Buffalo Bill’s Throwback.
212—-Buffalo Bill's ‘‘Sight-Unseen.’’
213—Buffalo Bill’s New Pard.
214—Buffalo Bill’s Winged Victory.
215—Buffalo Bill’s “‘Pieces-of-Hight.”’
216—Buffalo Bill and the Hight Vaqueros.
217—Buffalo Bill’s Unlucky Siesta.
218—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Clue.
219—Buffalo Bill and the Apache Totem.
220—Buffalo Bill’s Golden Wonder.
221—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta Night.
222—Buffalo Bill and the Hatchet Boys.
223—Buffalo Bill and the Mining Shark.
224—Buffalo Bill and the Cattle Barons.
225—Buffalo Bill’s Long Odds.
226—Buffalo Bill, the Peace Maker.
227—Buffalo Bill’s Promise to Pay.
228—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Hitch.
229—Buffalo Bill and the Wheel of Fate.
230—Buffalo Bill and the Pool of Mystery.
231—Buffalo Bill and the Deserter.
232—Buffalo Bill’s Island in the Air.
233—Buffalo Bill, Town Marshal.
234—Buffalo Bill’s Ultimatum.
235—Buffalo Bill’s Test.
236—Buffalo Bill and the Ponca 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-Week Totem.
245—Buffalo Bill’s O. K.
246—Buffalo Bill at Cafion Diablo.
247—Buffalo Bill’s Transfer.
248—Buffalo 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—Buffalo Bill and the Men of Mendon.
253—Buffalo Billat 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.
261—Buffalo Bill’s Witchcraft.
262—Buffalo Bill’s Mountain Foes.
263—Buffalo Bill’s Battle Cry.
264—Buffalo Bill’s Fight for the Right.
265—Buffalo Bill’s Barbecue.
266—Buffalo Bill and the Red Renegade.
267—Buffalo Bill and the Apache Kid.
268—Buffalo Bill at the Copper Barriers-
269—Buffalo Bill’s Power.
270—Buffalo Bill and the Chief Hawkchee.
271—Buffalo.Bill and the Indian Girl.
272—Buffalo Bill Across the Rio Grande.
273—Buffalo Bill and the Headless Horse-

man.
274—Buffalo Bill’s Clean Sweep.
275—Buffalo Bill’s Handful of Pearls.
276—Buffalo Bill’s Pueblo Foes.
Dated December 29th, 1917.
277—Buffalo Bill’s Taos Totem.
Dated January 5th, 1918.
278—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Prophet.
Dated January 12th, 1918.
279—Buffalo Bill and Old Wanderoo.
Dated January 19th, 1918.
280—Buffalo Bill’s Merry War.

 

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