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‘Rar West Life

Tssued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York,

Copyright, 1918, by STREET & SMITH CORPORATION,

 

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No. 279. NEW YORK, January 12, 1918 ‘Price Six Cents.

Buffalo Bill and Old Wanderoo;

OR,

PAWNEE BILL AND THE PAWNEES.

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.’

C-IAPTER I.
STARTLING ‘NEWS.

The news that old Wanderoo had broken his pledge
and gone on the war trail reached Buffalo Bill at. Moc-
‘casin Bend, where he was enjoying a talkfest with Denver
‘Donovan, known on the border as the Red-hot Poker,
‘because whenever ‘any one picked him up he wanted to
lay him down again quick.

‘The courier who brought the unpleasantly suggestive
information came in from Pagoda Springs, ninety miles
‘away, covered with dust and sweat. He was a trooper
of the famous Seventh, a cavalry regiment with a worthy,
but réd, record in the Indian wars.

Dismounting before onoyan’s ranch house, he deliveréd —
the letter and stood at attention at the head of his panting

horse.

“T've got to go over to Cimarron Crossing,” he said,
when the scout began to question him, ‘‘and w arn the peo-
ple there.”

Miss Bessie Donovan came out of the house and gave
him a friendly look.

“Not until you've had something to eat, and your horse.

is rested,’ she urged. “I’ve got a fire going in the cook-
stove, and the coffee on, right now.”

It was an invitation no one could have resisted, much
less a tired young trooper. So a cowboy led his horse
to the stable, and he came in and rested his heels on the
piazza railing, with chair tipped against the wall, while
he told Denver Donovan and Buffalo Bill all he knew,
which. was not much, and listened to the jingle of table-
ware and the steps of the light-footed girl in the kitchen.

The coffee and food on a snowy cloth in the cool dining
room were tempting enough,

“T’ve‘ got a double appetite after that ride,” he said
apologetically, when he had tucked the food under his belt.

“It’s too bad you have to go on—one of the cowboys
would do it; but father will furnish you with a fresh
horse.”

“Orders !” he said. “Yes, I agree with you that it’s

_ longer ride than we can now afford. But from what the

 

too bad—since I’ve struck this place. But you oughtn’t
stay here. Those Pawnees may raid out this: way, and
they're devils.”

The warning troubled her after the trooper’s departure.
So when the Red-hot Poker declared that he intended to-
ride into Pagoda Springs with Buffalo Bill, Miss Bessie
declared that she would go, too.

“It's a long, hard ride,” said Donovan.

“Td have a longer one if the Pawnees came out this
way and captured me, so I’m going.”

It was then ten o'clock in the morning.

Buffalo Bills horse was being saddled and made ready
for him. His war bag had hey equipped with food and
supplies, his water bottle filled at the spring, and he had
seen that his fluted cartridge belt was crammed with car-
tridges.

Donovan had made similar preparation.

“Well, all right, if you feel that way about it,’ said
Donovan, and he shouted to the cowboys to get Miss
Bessie’s horse ready for the trail.

When ‘the horse had been brought up to the ranch-
house door, and the girl came out, she looked as warlike
as the scout or her father. A webbed belt round her slim
waist sagged with the weight of cartridges and a .45, and
in her hand she carried a cavalry carbine. Her hat was
aw ue Stetson, poked in at the crown and on the sides,
and she wore a divided skirt of buckskin color, with high-
laced boots showing below it. Her jacket was of the same
dust- proof buckskin color. The only color showing, except

the pink in her cheeks, was a loose blue tie floating at her

throat.

The scout admired the picture she made as she sat her
dancing mustang at her father’s side.

“We'll cover the big end of the ride to-day,’ he aad,
‘Gf Miss Donovan can stand it; and I know a good place
for the night camp, only it’s rather close to Pawnee. ter-
ritory.

“You'll avoid Paynes ground, [ suppose?” she said.
“We'll have to cut across a corner of it, or take a

 

    
 

2. NEW BUFFALO

trooper said, I think the Pawnees have gone to the west-
ward, so ‘we're not likely to see any of them.”

“T think Bess would have ‘been in less danger if she'd
stayed at home,” Donovan grumbled. “Still, a girl, you
know-—she will have her way!”

A more peaceful prospect than the pane presented when
they rode. forth could not have existed; no-Indians were
in sight, and even to talk of Indian troubles seemed a fool-
ish thing. ‘

But it might have been observed ‘that the careful scout
swept the plains often with his power ful. field glasses,
_ drawing rein for the purpose;.and that not .a moving thing
escaped his careful attention.

About four in the afternoon, while he was doing. this,
a smoke cloud came within the field of his vision.

He studied it carefully before commenting, then passed
the glasses to Donovan.

vin the southwest,” he said, ‘“‘close to the hen”

“A house on fire there, or I’m a goat!” cried. Donovan,
when he had taken a look, “Temme-see; yes, that’s about
where old Bob Jessup lives. But after that other scare-up
with old Wanderoo I heard he had moved his family into
Pagoda Springs.’

“It may be a prairie fire,”
had taken her turn with the Bipere:
than that.”

“Off at the right, and this wae of Tessun's.” _ said. Dono-
van, “is where Mose Slatterly used to hold out. You knew”
him, ‘Cody—the old’ wolf catcher. But I don’t see any
smoke over that way, and I don’t think he has been there
for six. months or more. Funny guy, old. Slatterly. was.
You remember how he broke the wolf-scalp record? .Paw-
nee County was paying a dollar bounty for wolf scalps;
and:one. month Slatterly. brought in-five hundred, when
I'll bet there wasn’t that many wolves in forty miles. It.
leaked out afterward how he done it, though it couldn't
‘never be proved against him. When the county officers
bought.:the scalps which he brung in, they allus put ’em in
aback ‘room. at the courthouse; and ee every week
crawled in there through a winder, corraled the scalps. he
had sold “em the week before, and sold ’em again. He
sold twenty wolf scalps enough times to them fool com-
missioners to make him five hundred dollars. . How’s that
- fer high finance, Cody?: Old Wall Street couldn’t beat iH,
I reckon.” !

In spite of Donovan's belief that Slatterly’s dugout was
unoccupied, when they were within two or three miles of
it a horseman came riding furiously out of a swale and
made toward the dugout, pursued by-a ki-yi-ing bunch of
Pawnee warriors.

The girl gasped and turned pale.

“They're Indians,” she said, “and——’

Buffalo Bill drew rein once more and brought his glasses
down on the fleeing figures. i

“Twenty Pawnees, or more,” he announced, ‘and they're
crowding him hard. We're too far off to help him.”

-He set Bear Paw in motion, nevertheless, as Donovan
took a turn with the glasses.

“?T ain't. Slatterly, nohow,”: said Donovan: “Gs a little
man, dressed different—Slatterly always wore a wolfskin
cap, with a-wolf tail stiffened ‘with. wire setting straight
up on the top of it;-and that feller is wearing a flat hat.
He’s. got something on the horse in front of him, big as
a bushel basket, ‘I judge; hard to say what it is. from
here.”

‘He galloped to the side of the scout and passed over
the glasses, while shouting some of. this.

The scout’s horse and Donovan’s and Bessie’s cates
animal made record time for the next few minutes; but
they could not draw closer to. pursuers or. pursued.

However, they saw the man leap from his horse before
Slatterly’s dugout, abandon it, and seek the dugout for
shelter. !

“Fool trick, that is,’ snarled Donovan. “They'll lift his
hair now, before we can get there;. and we can’t fight
that many Pawnees nohow. Why ‘didn’t he drive that
horse till ‘the critter dropped, and then make a finish fight
of it? They’ ll—-

His voice rose in a shout as he spurred his horse:

“Ah! That's what I’ was going to say—I was afraid
of it! They’ve set the old ert on fires? o will’ be an
oven inside of ten minutes.” aie

the girl suggested, after she
‘I hope it's no more

in that swale.

BILL. WE EEKLY.

W hen they were still a mile away they cotld see the
Pawnees ringing in the little house, now burning brightly.

Then Buffalo Bill drew rein, with a groan of regrct; for

the Pawnees had sighted them, and ten or a dozen war-
riors were coming that way.

“We'll get into that swale,” he said, “and make a stand
there; it’s what that fellow ought to have done.”

“And be burned to death in it when the Pawnees. set
the grass on fire,” the girl gasped.

“T happen to ‘know that only green grass is growing
That’s why I said “the man ought to have
made his stand there, and why I chose it for us.
raged through this séction when Wanderoo made -his
threatening war talk. not long ago and raided the cattle
herds of the X Y. Ranch. Tye a lively remembrance: of it,
for that fire came near getting me and my pards.”

Turning their animals toward the swale out of which

the rider and the Pawnees had suddenly appeared,. they
drove for it headlong, and got into it, with their horses
down. and under cover of its banks, before the Pawnees
could approach them.

Lying at the top of the bank, Buffalo Bill and the Red-

hot Poker began to make such merry, long-range music
with their-rifles that the Pawnees jerked in their mustangs
and drew off, not liking the rain of lead which came hur-
tling their way.

“There are so many of them,” said the scout, “that they
can give us trouble to-night; but they'll not crowd us hard
now, since they know we are well armed.”

“You're right. in that,”
ing that his daughter was listening.
held lance that likes to get too close to bullets when white
men. are slinging them; I know that from experience.’

The Pawnees sent in some distant shots, which did no

damage; and from time to time, whenever any of them
circled in near enough, the scout and the cattleman replied
spiritedly.

One Pawnee brave was wounded in this gun duel, and

two mustangs were killed.”
All this while Slatterly’s
“That fire ain’t going to last long,”

“for,.ye see, there isn’t fuel to feed it.

upper works are of boards;

house was burning furiously.

Only the top and

man who. was foolish enough to go inside of it and let the
Pawnees bake him.”
“It’s a terrible thing,”
eyes bright and staring. ;
“Tt is,’ Donovan agreed; “but it’s the kinda thing that
happens whenever tedskins.go on the warpath.”
“T wish. all Indians were dead!”
rolled down her white cheeks, .
“Well, they will be, give Cody and some others time
enough; . they’re making ‘sood. Indians’ continual.. I’m
sorry for that man, Bess—sorry as you can be. But what
can we do?”
“Nothing,”

said the girl, her face white, her

she admitted, and choked down a sob,

- CHAPTER II.
“THE MAN IN THE FIRE, Wey
The lure of loot and scalps in another direction drew off
the Pawnees after the fire had destroyed Slatterly’s dugout:
Having had a taste of the shooting abilities of Buffalo Bill
and the Red-hot Poker, they did not desire further samples.

As soon as they left, Buffalo Bill and his companions

got out of the swale and rode swiftly to the side of the
dugout ; yet without expecting to find any one alive there.
Denovan rode round it, choked with rage, shouting
anathemas at the fiendish Pawnecs. el
_To the surprise of all, an answer. came out of the fire.
“Hello !” said Donovan. “Was I dreamin’, or did I hear

Buffalo Bill swing a leg over his. saddle and dropped.

to the ground. bees Bear Paw standing, he rushed
up to the fire, A smol Idering bed of coals and ashes lay
before him, the light material of the upper part of the
dugout having burned quickly.
“Hello!” he called loudly. “Did we “hear a VOIee Mi
It came again-—a weak. shout, sh
| Flelp here, Pony ance called the scout,

A fire.

Donovan agr eed hopefully, know-
“Aint) no ki-yi ever

remarked Donovan:

1 the rest is sod and earth.
But I reckon, jest the same, there ain't no hope for the

she cried, as a tear

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

NEW BUFFALO:

Pulling a charred roof pole out of the fire, he beat out
the fire on it with his boots; then he atid Donovan, having
wrapped the heated end in a blanket to protect their harids,
began to poke with it through the ashes and embers that
choked the site. :

“Don’t seem that any one could be alive in here,” said
Donovan; ‘which makes me think we’re crazy and imag-
ined, that.)

But when the shouts came again and yet again, they
knew they had not been misled, and renewed their furious
efforts. ;

The dugout had been small—not more than ten feet
by twelve in size; and the light upper work, having burned,
had dropped charred remnants into it, so that there was
a hole half filled with ashes and cinders.

When this had been drawn out with the pole to a certain
extent, an iron door was seen in the earthen floor of the
dugout.

Bessie Donovan, looking on anxiously, gasped when she
beheld it.

“The man is under that!” she cried.

“Sure enough he is,” said Donovan.

“We'll need to go slow here,’ said Buffalo Bill; “for
if we don’t, when we lift that door the hot ashes and
cinders will roll in on him.”

Putting on his thick leather gauntlets, he leaped into
the cleared space, and with hands and feet pushed the
embers and ashes aside. The result was a smell of burn-
ing leather, and the fact revealed that the door was about
three and a half feet square, with an iron ring in it.

When the scout had made certain that none of the hot
ashes could roll down into the hole, the end of the pole
was worked through the ring, and the trapdoor was care-
fully lifted.

A breath of hot and steamy air came out of the hole,
which seemed to be the entrance to a cellar. And with it
a voice, choked and weak.

Buffalo Bill swung down through the hole
peared.

“Help here, Donovan!” he called instantly.

Donovan had crept down to the edge of the trapdoor,
and he took hold of the shoulders of the man whom Buf-
falo Bill hoisted into view, and lifted him out.

“Lay him on the ground out there and send Miss Bessie
for some cold water,” the scout ordered. “There are some
water holes in that swale.”

Bessie Donovan, hearing this, caught the scout’s canteen
and water bottle from his saddle, and, swinging to her
horse, galloped away.

and. disap-

Donovan, while carrying the man out of the heated

space, heard Buffalo Bill call to him again:

“Something else down here, Donovan.”

When Donovan had hopped back, a big, red-colored box
was pushed up to him; and then a monkey, which was
chained to the box,

Donovan gasped when he saw the monkey.

“By all the goats of Denver!” he gurgled.
beats my time!”

Buffalo Bill came out of the hole next, assisted by Don-
ovan. The scout was wet with sweat and his face red
with heat.

He took a look at the man he had rescued, while Bessie
Donovan came galloping back with the cold water from
the water hole. But even before that the scout knew who
it was he had pulled out of the inferno under the burned
dugout.

“Archibald Stepson Jones,” he said.

Archibald Stepson Jones was a smallish man, who now
Sait a very red.and blotched face and was gasping for

reath.

The scout began to shower him with water from the
bottle as soon as Bessie Donovan came up with it.

“He’s all right,” he said, thrusting a hand under the
man’s coat and feeling the heartbeats. “That is, he will
be in a little while.”

He doused the man again. -

“Take a look round, Donovan,” he urged, “so that those
Pawnees can’t sneak back and get a whack at us while
we're not ready for them.” :

“Pawnees are gone,” announced Donovan.

_As soon as the man’s lungs were in good, working con-
dition, Buffalo Bill gave his attention to the monkey,

“Well, this

BLE WEEKLY: 3

which Bessie Donovan had already taken under her fos-

tering care,

It was a small creature, dressed fantastically in a red
jacket and breeches, with a red, feathered cap perched
on its head. And it was still tied to the box, which was
now seen to be a large hand organ.

“Tm guessing,” said Donovan, as Buffalo Bill set to
work to restore the monkey, which had suffered from the
terrific heat it had undergone even more than the man,
“that this is the man and the monkey you told us about.
‘But as the monkey was, when last seen by you, in the
Pawnee village, and this man was in Pagoda Springs, how
they connected up sets me to milling like a herd of buf-
faloes.”

The scout did not at once try to give his ideas of this,
but worked over the monkey. :

At the end of fifteen minutes the man was able to sit
up and talk a little; but the limp monkey did not get back
much of its strength for more than half an hour.

The man sucked greedily at the scout’s water bottle, then
tried: to tell his story.

“Ves I’m Jones,” he assented, “and you’re Cody—whitest
man on this planet. ‘These other people I don’t know.”

‘The scout told him who they were.

“T thought I was a gone gosling when I was down under
there and that fire was going; but it’s because I knew of
that cellar and the iron door over it that I made for it.
Some months ago I stopped here with Slatterly, and he
showed it to me. He built it that way so that if ever the
Pawnees went out on the trail and tried to roast him he
could take to the cellar and stand the fire through.

“Tt sounded all right. But when I tried it at

He gasped at the memory and pulled again at the water
bottle.

“Well, it was about too much for me!”

“Vou're the human salamander,” said the scout.

The little man had a queer right eye that had a trick
of rolling round wildly in its socket, sometimes pointing
at the sky as if he could not control it or could control
it only with difficulty. It swung round now toward Don-
ovan, while the good eye rested of Buffalo Bill.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I reckon I’m some of a salamander.
For this is the second time I’ve passed alive through the
fiery furnace. Give me a cave of lions next, and then
you could call me the Prophet Daniel.”

“Jones speaks of the time, out in the high-grass lands
of Trout Creek,” explained the scout, “when the big fire
that I mentioned caught him, and he saved himself from
it by killing and disemboweling his horse and creeping
inside the animal.”

Jones flicked his game optic round again and tried to
smile,

“A man that can’t be killed by two such fires,” he said,
“ain't got no call to ever be afraid of sunstroke gittin’
him—eh, Cody?”

He lookéd at the monkey, which had struggled back
to some degree of animation.

“Monkevs are hot-country animals,’ he remarked; “but
the little monk couldn’t stand up with me when it came
to a good ‘baking. I’m hoping he’s all right now.”

Bessie Donovan was trickling water over the monkey’s
hairy crown, having slipped back the feathered red cap
for the purpose; and the monkey was showing a lack of
appreciation of the well-meant kindness.

“Give it a cracker to nibble on, if you’ve got one,” said
Jones; “‘he’s had little enough to eat for the past two

dees

 

“Where did you find the monkey?” the scout inquired.

Again the wandering eye came round and pointed itself
this time at the scout.

“You'll blame me if I say; you'll declare that I was
served right!” o

“No man who has gone through that fire and lived can
be blamed for anything,” said Miss Donovan encotrag-
ingly. : ate wee

“You're kind,” said the little man. “If I was confessin’
to you I’d have no fears. . But Cody—he’s different.”

“He is kind, too, or he wouldn’t have risked burning
alive to get you out of that cellar.” . a

“T reckon that’s right,’ Jones admitted.

Still he hesitated to answer the scout’s question.

 
   

  

4 NEW

  

But finally, when he had time to think the matter over,
the truth came out:

“That monkey and hand org yan—which it ain’t just a
hand organ—you will recollect was in the Pawnee village.”

“And you,” reminded the scout, “accompanied my party
from the Pawnee village to Pagoda Springs after old

Wanderoo had given me his promise that he would not
go on the warpath.”

“T had information,” said Jones, “of a cache of emeralds
worth a hundred thousand dollars which lay buried close
by the boiling spring in Wanderoo’s village.”

He pawed round and finally brought from an inside
pocket a soiled letter.

“Cody knows all about this,” he said to Donovan, “but
you don’t; so I’m going to ask you to look that over. Cody.
is likely to be prejudiced against me; but I'll ask you if
that letter wouldn't be enough to make you want to get
your hands on them emeralds?” '

Bessie Donovan fed soaked cracker crumbs to the mon-
key and listened attentively while her father ‘read the
letter aloud:

“Dear FRIEND:
sand dollars, are cached near the boiling spring on Trout
Creek in the Pawnee country. I have a feeling that I'll
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. Brernarp Brown.”

“Brown died in a hospital in New York five years ago,”
said Jones, “and left that for me. Other work kept me
from trying for ‘that cache until recently; then I found
that another man was on its trail—Bob Dalton, the des-
perado. He had read the letter and wanted the emeralds
and was trying to get to them ahead of me.

“TI encountered him in Pagoda Springs, where, as Cody
knows, he tried to assassinate me. He then had this hand
organ and monkey, was blacked up as a negro, and had
been playing the organ and exhibiting the monkey 1 in the
Pagoda Springs hotels and saloons.

“He got out to old Wanderoo’s village ahead of me,
and made a try for the emerald cache; but Cody corralled
him there, and now he’s cooling his fool energy ‘behind the
bars of a prison cell.

“He had to leave the monkey and the organ behind in
the Pawnee village. Incidentally T’ll explain that that is
a curious hand organ; it was made for a member of the
Camorra, the Italian murder society, and has in it a repeat-
ing revolver that will throw bullets faster than you can
count, I’d have stopped those Pawnees with it when
they chased me, but I didn’t have ammunition for the
gun. It takes a thirty-eight caliber, and all I had was
forty-five for my revolver.

“Cody is listening to this, and I’m coming now to a
part that will interest him and make him hotter than a
bald hornet.

“You see, I wanted those emeralds. So, after going
with Cody to Pagoda Springs, I back- tracked to the Paw-
nee village after he had gone on to your place, Mr. Don-
ovan.

“When I got there the Pawnees were peaceful; Wan-
deroo had told Cody he would bury the hatchet, and he
seemed trying to do so, though he was havin’ trouble
with some of his young warriors who wanted scalps and
plunder.

“T went in, and they treated me all right. The hand
organ and monk were there, but Wanderoo was keeping
‘em in his medicine lodge, now and then playing the hand
organ and setting the monkey to dancing in front of the
lodge. I got the idea he was playing some kind of hocus-
pocus on the Pawnees; the ignorance and superstition of
those redskins, as Cody can tell you, and perhaps you
know, is sure wonderful.

“One night, when old Wanderoo was out of it, I
into the medicine lodge to hunt for the. emerald cach 4
I had figured that it must be there, for the medicine lodge
covers the boiling spring mentioned in that letter.

“Wanderoo came back while I was in there, and we
had a fight. In the end I knocked him down. Then other
Pawnees came, and I had to scratch gravel. I took the
hand organ because of the gun inside of it, and the monkey

 

BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY.

The emeralds, worth a hundred thou-

me

         

because it was chained to the organ and I didn’t know but
it would be a mascot.

“I got out all right, hit a Pawnee pony, and made tracks
for safer places. But I got turned round in the night and
went the wrong way.

“That lost me two days—getting back and on in this .
direction; for I had to lie low a good deal of the time.
The Pawnees were out, trying to follow my trail.

“Not finding me, the Pawnees went to attacking any
white man that came along, and—well, that started trouble,
of course.’

He flicked his game eye round at Buffalo Bill.

“So that’s how this present Pawnee war started?” said
Donovan.

“T reckoned you'd be like Cody—blame me for it!”
said Jones, with an injured air.

“T don’t want to. blame any one, but don’t it look that
way to you?” asked Donovan.

“No, it don’t; for them Pawnees would have gone on
the war trail, anyhow, soon; the young men were ‘spoiling
fOr a raid. and they'd turned old Wanderoo down, and
gone; that’s: my opinion.

“Of- course,” he added, “me getting slow out of the
Pawnee country was what ‘cattsed me to be seen and chased
a while ago; that was a band of young Pawnee warriors
that headed me into this dugout and then set it on fire.”

He glanced over at the monkey, which Miss Bessie Don-
ovan was now fondling.

“And if you hadn’t appeared when you did,” he added,
“T reckon that me and the monk would have baked down
in that hole soon. [don’t see how we could have stood
it much longer, with all them hot ashes and cinders piled
on top of the iron door.

“So I’ve got to thank you, Cody; and you, Mr. Don-
ovan, and your charming daughter; and I thank you from
the bottom of my heart. The monk would say the same
if he could talk.”

There was a moment or two of silence.

“And you didn’t get no trace at all of them emeralds?”
said Donovan.

. The flickering eye of Archibald Stepson Jones bored

im.

“So you're catching that fever?” 2

“T haven’t got it bad enough to go into the Pawnee
village right now and look for that cache,” said Donovan.

“My prior claim, and that letter, gives ’em to me, if
oleae found,” Jones . urged; “you'll see the justice of
that

“You're going in again?” asked Donovan.

“Right now 1 don’t feel like it—don’t feel like going
any place; but 1 reckon I'll try it again when this cruel
wart is over. Anyway, I’m "most afraid to go to the

- town

“Why ?” Bessie asked.

“As the starter of this renewed unpleasantness—Cody
thinks I’m guilty of that, I can see by, the flashin’ of his
eye—I might get a warm réception in that town; and
you a “agree that I have had my share of warm recep-
tions.”

He glanced with a shudder at the smoking hole, all
that remained of Slatterly’s dugout.

“So if Cody don’t object, Vl just hive out by myself
—with the hand organ and monk—and—well, I’ll just stay
out here and take the risks of the Pawnees.”

“And. perhaps make more trouble,” said the scout.

“ll sure promise to take care of myself, anyhow,
Cody,” he said, “if you can let me have a few boxes of
thirty-eights. for that little wonder machine gun boxed up
in the hand organ.”

Buffalo Bill met fairly the flicking eye of Archibald
Stepson Jones.

“Tell me just who you are, Jones?” he said,

The little man laughed.

“Bob Dalton said I was a detective who had come West
chasing him; you remember that?”

“I do; but what do you say?”

The little man laughed in spite of his sufferings.

“Cody,” he said, “I owe you a lot~and acknowledge the
oe but 10/1 should tell: you that, you’d know as much
as

“You. are inl the secret service?”

  

 

 
 

 

 

: NEW: BUFFALO

“Mebbyso—not.”

“Tn the government secret service—or private?”

“T’m like the old maid who wanted to know if her lover
loved her; he said if he told her the truth it- would make
her jealous.”

With which cryptic remark Archibald Stepson Jones
ended his confession.*

CHAPTER 111. f
JONES DISAPPEARS.

A night camp was made in the deep swale, econ
and hard riding had told on the strength of the girl;
it was not thought advisable to try to go farther that (ns

Not an eye closed before midnight, however. Bessie
Donovan feared the return of the Pawnees, and sat up
talking until close to that hour, refusing to seek the pro-
tection of her blankets sooner.

There was no moon, but the stars were bright, except
in the northwest, where a filmy veil seemed to be spread
sia them; and ‘the wind was cool after the heat of the

ay.

The horses, on picket ropes, luxuriated in the new grass
which had sprung up since the recent prairie fires.

Donovan had the last watch of the night, following
Buffalo Bill, and was on guard, with rifle in hand, when
day broke:

He had heard a noise among the animals during the
darkness, and now crept out to ascertain the meaning of it.

“Hello!” he cried, as he looked about there. “Jones’
mustang is missing. Rustled by some thievin’ Pawnee in
spite of my watchin’! But I wonder why the thief didn’t
take the rest of the bunch?”

Going back to the camp, filled with this startling news,
he looked over to the spot that Jones had occupied. The
little man’s blanket was there, and it bulged as if his
snuggled form were under it.

“Jones has covered his head, ’count of bad dreams of
that burning dugout, I reckon. Well, I don’t wonder!”

He routed out Buffalo Bill, with news that the little
man’s mustang was missing.

‘Call Jones, said the scout) |

Donovan stepped over and called him. Then he pushed
the blanket with the toe of his boot, and touched something
hard instead of a yielding human form.

Snatching the blanket aside, Donovan saw the trick—
a block of wood that Jones had brought up from the bot-
tom of the swale for a pillow was the only thing under
the blanket. Then his cry arose.

Buffalo Bill came over on the jump.

“Jones has cut sticks and is gone,” said Donovan. “He
fooled me by using that block of old driftwood that some
oo throwed down here into the swale. Well, don’t
that
_ He swung round on his heel, lifted his head, and looked
off across the plains.

“Gone long enough to be out of sight, too.
that strike you, Cody?”

‘Bessie Donovan came out of her blanket.

“The hand organ and the monkey are gone with him!”
cried Donovan. “Well, that beats me! And I thought I
was standin’ guard!”

“Has Mr. Jones gone?” called the girl.

“Gone—scooted—hit the pike—flew up the creek!”
squalled' Donovan. “And I thought I was standin’ guard!”
ie bounced to the top of the swale and took another
ook.

Buffalo Bill walked out to the picketed animals and
studied the ground; then he began to follow a trail of mus-
tang tracks.

“No use looking on the plains,’ he said to Donovan;
“Jones went down the swale toward Trout Creek. mn

“And that means toward Pawnee town.”

“Tt looks it. That emerald cache is calling to him again,”

“The Pawnees will sure get his scalp this time.”

_ Bessie strolled over.

“Tm sorry,” she said, “that he took the little monkey.

 

How does

 

*For fattner parhiouiare. of Archibald Stepson Jones, and of
the lively adventures he had with Buffalo Bill’s party in old
Wanderoo’s Pawnee village, see last week’s issuc, ‘Buffalo Bill
and the ‘Pawnee Prophet.’ Re

   

Bile WERK. ee

Why didn’t he leave that; if he had to go into danger.
again?”

Donovan whirled round as a thought struck him, and
began to paw through his saddlepack, which had been
resting on the ground.

“Say,” he called, “who was the fool said I was standin’
guard last night? Jones went through my pack before he |
hit the trail for Trout Creek, and took the only boxes of
38 cartridges I had—two boxes, which I was fool enough
to tell him last night that 1 had with me. Show me the
man that will say I was standin’ guard last night!”

He came up, red-faced and angry.

“He w anted them .38’s for his little machine gun, and
he has got.’em. Last night he wanted to buy ‘em, and
now he’s got ‘em without pay.”

“T’ve got another box,’ said ee

“Better see if you have.”

She found them.

“You wasnt’ fool enough to tell him you had ‘em,’ said
Donovan.

He looked at Buffalo Bill.

“What's to be done now?”

The scout was turning that over in his mind.

“We'll have something to eat, Donovan, and talk it over.
Perhaps we ought to the ank Archibald Stepson Jones for
leaving us our animals.”

“Oh, he could have had all of ’em if he’d wanted ’em,’
Donovan grumbled. “Remember that I was ib e
guard—or i thought I wa as 1”

“This complicates things,’ Buffalo Bill admitted, as they

ate breakfast and drank the coffee Bessie Donovan had

made over the camp fire. “You see, we ought to stop that
fool before he gets into further trouble and stirs up the
Pawnees again—that is, if we can stop him.”

“But to do that will take us down to Trout Creek and
perhaps farther; will involve some hard riding and push
us nearer to the Pawnee village than we ought to go. So
far as Jones is concerned, if it’s only his scalp that is
in danger,” answered Donovan, “I say let him go.”

“But the monkey!” the girl urged.

A monkey is only an animal, same as a rat,” said Don-
ovan; “and we can let that go, too. Besides, from what
we have been told, Bess, the Indians won’t hurt the mon-
key.”

The girl shook her head.

Sim sorry he took the monkey, and I’m willing to go
arter at.

“In face of them raidin’ Pawnees?”

She looked at Buffalo Bill.

“We can follow the trail down the swale,” he remarked,
“and when we. reach Trout Creek, if. we haven't over-
taken him then, which isn’t likely, you and your daughter
can ride straight on for Pagoda Springs while | follow
Jones to see what he is up to and bring him back,’

“Is that emerald cache pullin’ you, too, Cody?” said
Donovan dryly.

“Not a bit of it. But I ought to follow. him, arrest
him, and take him into Pagoda Springs. Bear Paw can
go two miles to that mustang’s one, and in spite of the
start he has I can overtake him before he gets to the
Pawnee village. He hasn’t been gone more than an
hour—the freshness of his trail shows that.”

The trail of the mustang, in the new grass and soft soil
of the swale, was easily followed, and the pursuit was
begtin as soon as they had finished breakfast.

When Trout Creek was reached, and the tracks of the
mustang turned down the creek, showing that without

‘doubt the rider was heading toward the Pawnee village,

Buffalo Bill suggested that the Donovans should go on
toward Pagoda Springs while he followed Jones.

But a combination of reasons made the father and
daughter anxious to go now on the trail of the mustang.

Bessie Donovan’s fighting blood, inherited from the Red- -
hot Poker, had begun to stir with the freshening of the
trail and thoughts of the monkey. She was angered that
Jones should lug the httle beast back into Pawnee terri-
tory, and into danger, as. she considered it..

As for the Red-hor Poker himself, the. fact that Archi-
bald Stepson Jones had got away from the camp in the
night, while Donovan was standing guard, stuck, in his
throat like a bitter morsel.

“We'll go on with you—for a while,” he said, after he

 

 
  

G NEW BUFFALO

  

had talked it over with his daughter. ‘Bess says she’s
bound to have that monkey, and I’m bound to get another
look at the man who would walk off with my cartridges
right under my nose in the night and me not know it.”

So they went on.

Five miles down Trout Creek, when the trail was still
fresher, Buffalo Bill left/them, because the girl’s cayuse
was beginning to show signs of the strain.

“We'll stay here until noon, anyway, Cody,” said Don-
ovan at parting; and the:scout went on alone.

The day had grown hot; in the high grass of the swale
land beside the creek, through which the tracks of the
mustang passed, the heat was close and oppressive. Out
on the plains beyond, and on the rocky ridges, the air was
like a furnace.

The plains and the high grass of the bottom lands had
been burned over; but new grass was springing every-
where, making a carpet that seemed of the texture of green
velvet. Yet that velvety carpet radiated heat like an oven.

Bear Paw was soon in a lather of sweat as the scout
urged him on.

Because of the suffering of his horse, Buffalo Bill, relent-
ing, tempered his pace; but apparently the rider of the
mustang had swung ahead regardless of the heat. — .

It was long past noon when Buffalo Bill turned back,
convinced by that time that the fast-riding man ahead
would surely reach the village of old Wanderoo before
he could be overtaken.

As he pulled Bear Paw out of the swale to the dryer
land, abandoning the trail at last, and looked at the hori-
zon, he found that the sky had become suddenly overcast.

“A storm is coming,’ he said.

Then he set Bear Paw at a killing pace again.

CHAPTER IV.
CAUGHT IN THE CLOUDBURST.

The storm, partaking of the nature of a sudden cyclone,
struck the bottom lands of Trout Creek before Buffalo
Bill got back to the point where he had left the Donovans.

The black cloud, funnel-shaped and whirling, seemed to
choose the treek for its course. Nevertheless, the scout
headed toward the creek.

“T hope they have found shelter somewhere,’ he said,
growing anxious.

He could see that in the center of the storm the rainfall
was something tremendous. The few trees along the
stream went. down, or were snapped off like pipestems.

Caught in the outer fringe of the storm, the scout stuck
it out, boring Bear Paw into it, though the rain and the
wind pounded with almost stunning effect.

Before he reached the vicinity of the creek he discov-
ered that the storm was truly cyclonic, where it had struck
the creek higher up; for in that direction he heard a trem-
bling roar made by rushing waters.

“A cloud-burst!” he said, using the local term.

Reining Bear Paw in, he tricd to see through the whirl-

ing tempest.
;: He was now on a ridge, with the lowlands of Trout
Creek below him, so that if the day had been fair he would
have been given a view for miles. Now he could: not
see two rods when the storm was raging about him at
its worst.

That distant roar portending danger to the Donovans,
he spurred Bear Paw farther along, still buffeting into
the gale. :

Ten minutes later, when the thunder of the oncoming
flood began to shake the very ground, Buffalo Bill caught
sight of its dirty, wool-colored crest.

It was as if Niagara had been poured suddenly into
the creek, lifting the water into a boiling torrent and
filling all the grassland to the top of the inclosing ridges.

On the forefront of the turbid tide rode cottonwood
trees, wisps of half-burned grass, and a mixture of revolv-
ing sticks and tree boughs. 3
- Bear Paw, dancing on the height above this flood; viewed
it with alarm, for he had almost human intelligence.

“I hope our friends reached the high ground before
that struck them,” said the scout, peering through the driy-
ing rain.

The head of the flood roared by; and there was a turbid

 

Cit ey.

sea, filling the lowlands of Trout Creek from ridge to
ridge. In it cottonwoods churned and tumbled and inter-
laced logs and limbs sailed in ragged rafts.

Suddenly the scout gave a shout and struck the spurs
into Bear Paw, causing the horse to leap from the bank
into the rushing water.

Clinging to the weaving branches of one of the cotton=

woods was Bessie Donovan, while close behind her, strug-
gling in the water, trying to gain the tree that upheld her,
was Denver Donovan.

Donovan went under, sucked down like a chip; and the
girl, half rising on her perilous perch, stretched out her
hands and seemed about to follow him. Her scream came
across the water so sharp that it could be heard above
the wild tumult of flood and storm.

In all the brute creation there was no better or stronger
swimmer than Bear Paw.

He went under after his first leap, but came boldly to
the surface, fighting the waves gallantly.

To relieve him of a needless burden, the gallant scout
slipped out of the saddle into the water; and as Bear
Paw struck out through the frothing sea the scout was
towed along by him, swinging to a stirrup, but helping all
he could.

Donovan came up again, like a chip thrown to the sur-
face, But instead of swimming toward the cottonwood,
in his bewilderment he began to swim from it.

The scream of the girl rose again.

Buffalo Bill’s shout reached her.

It also reached Donovan, and he turned toward the
swimming horse.

“Head for the man, Bear Paw—for the man!” shouted
the scout.

Bear Paw’s nose stretched out toward the man.
now swimming like an intelligent dog.

“This way, Donovan!” yelled the scout.. “We'll reach
you in another minute; just hold up.”

But as the nose of Bear Paw came close to the man’s
face, and Buffalo Bill began to pull ahead to get hold of
Donovan, a cottonwood with thrashing branches struck
the noble beast broadside on and the horse went under.

Buffalo Bill released the stirrup.

Seeing Donovan struggling before him, he swam to
Donovan.

When Bear Paw came to the surface he was a dozen
yards down the stream, his nose turned toward the shore;
the tree and the flood had swung him round, so that as
he now struck out, apparently bewildered by the sub-
mergence, he was swimming toward the shore he had
recently left.

Buffalo Bill did not try to stop him. Right at the mo-
ment he was engaged in keeping Denver Donovan from
going under again, and he was not at all sure that Bear

He was

_. Paw was not pursuing the wisest course.

The tree being nearer to him than the shore for which
Bear Paw was now heading, and Bessie. Donovan being.
on it and in need of help, the scout began to tow Donovan
toward:-the cottonwood.

Twice the scout went under, for Donovan pulled him

.down; but he gained the tree.

The plucky girl was ready to help him. Getting her
father by the hair of the head, she clung tightly until
Buffalo Bill scrambled into the cottonwood.

By the time the scout had secured a position in the tree
and had drawn Donovan up beside him, Bear Paw was
far behind, but close to the shore; and they saw him
reach it, clamber up the rocky bank, and shake his wet
hide as if he rejoiced in being safe on land again.

“Good boy!” the scout shouted to him.

Donovan was breathless, and the girl almost too terrified
tor speech.

They were near the middle of the current now, and the’
cottonwood rode steadily. But the rain still fell in sheets
and the wind blew fiercely.

After a look about, which gave him time to gather his
faculties and get back his spent breath, the scout took
the ‘wet rope that swung at his side, and, making it fast
to the boughs, he passed it round the girl and her father.

Hive miles down was Wanderoo’s village, on the farther
bank ef the stream, toward which the flood was bearing
them  fapidly.’

 

 

 

  

 

 

ge

 

 

   

 
=

 

 

 

NEW BUFFALO

“Tf we fall into the hands of the Pawnees,” thought the
‘scout, “it will be out of the frying pan into the fire.”

But he did not speak of this to the girl, who was begin-
ning to get back her courage.
“- Bear Paw had not tried to follow the cottonwood which
bore his master away, and soon he was lost to sight; but
the scout took comfort from the fact that the horse was
not on the side of the stream which held the village of the
Pawnees.

“The rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun; and, though —

the wind still blew heavily, its first violence was abated.
~’ Donovan roused when the sun, bursting from the clouds,
burned down on him ‘and warmed his soaked clothing.
“As he endeavored to sit up on the limb which held him,
the scout loosened the lariat end round his waist.

Donovan tried to. smile his thanks.

“The Red-hot Poker came near gettin’ quenched that
time, Cody.”

“Tt was a close call,” the scout admitted.

“The storm caught us when we were near the creek,’

said the girl, “and we couldn’t get back to the high ground,

though we tried to. I think our horses were drowned;
and we'd have been but for the cottonwood and the help
you gave father.”

“Cody is all right,’ breathed Donovan, clinging weakly
to his floating perch. “But I’m wishin’ that we was all
out of this. It cooled the weather, though, didn’t it?”

He tried to seem more light-hearted than he was.

“That Pawnee outfit, Cody, must be right ahead some-
where,” he remarked after a while. “The banks are so
changed that I can’t tell.”

“Three or four miles dead ahead now,” said the scout.
““And if they've got good swimmin’ ponies they might
get out to us.”
ete we could make it interesting for them if they
tried it.”

The scout had lost his rifle—it was attached to the saddle
and Bear Paw had carried it away—but he had two re-
volvers at his waist and a supply of cartridges.

He took out the revolvers, blew the water out of the
barrels and chambers, then fingered the cartridges.

“These metal cartridge jackets are supposed to be water-
proof,” he said; “but one can’t tell always.”

He pointed one of the revolvers at the water and pulled
the trigger. The sharp explosion and the plunge of the
lead told that the cartridge was good.

“T guess they're all right,” he said, smiling; “so if the
Pawnees try to get at us I think we can drive them back.”

“But ‘they can reach us with rifles, if we pass in front
of the village,” said the girl. °

“Not from the village itself, if we stay as far off on
this side as we are now. And a Pawnee rifleman on a
swimming horse couldn’t do much shooting. If one tried
to get near enough for that, I think I could kill his
horse, and that would put him adrift.”

Taking out his hunting knife, the scout cut a thick pole
from one of the boughs.

“T hope,” said Bessie Donovan, “you don’t think they
will get close enough so that you will want to fight them
with a club?”

“Ehis, 1s a paddie,
look it.”

He dipped the club and tried to edge the floating cotton-
wood toward the nearest shore—which was the shore far-
thest from the village side.

“T think I might help at that,’ said Donovan, “if you
will cut me another stick.”

Bessie Donovan thought that she, too, could assist.

While Buffalo Bill cut two more clubs, choosing limbs
as nearly paddle-shaped as he could find, Denver Donovan
and his daughter drew out their revolvers and cartridges
and tried to get ready for a defense of the singular raft.

Then they took the clubs and sought to aid the scout in
propelling the floating tree toward the shore.

That they succeeded even to a small extent heartened
them; and, having something to take their attention now,
they began to feel better and more hopeful.

They were so engrossed that the last miles slipped by
quickly, and the village of old Wanderoo, on the high bank
of Trout Creek, rose before them.

Though the flood was now falling to an appreciable
extent, the water still filled all the bottom ,land and en-

s

said the scout, “though it doesn’t

 

 
    

BILL. WEEKLY.

croached on the low-lying tepees. But most of the tepees
near the stream had been torn down hastily and removed,
to be set up again higher on the shore. Ue

The scout looked in vain for the medicine lodge of the
old Pawnee prophet. It was a building of stones, sticks, .
and mud plastering, not far from the stream, and had
either been carried away or was now submerged. It cov-
ered the boiling spring, near which Archibald Stepson
Jones believed the cache of emeralds lay. i

“The medicine lodge is gone, I guess,’ said the scout,
“and there is ten feet of water over that emerald cache.”

Bessie Donovan beheld the tepees with alarm, which was
not lessened when she saw Indians. Behind the village
was a bunch of ponies, close-herded now by men or boys,
who rode round and round them.

“Some excitement there, I] judge,’ remarked the scout.

“Do they see us?’ i

“They may not have discovered yet that any one is on
this’ tree.” | ;

“Tt wish we could cover up in some way,’
“when perhaps we might float by.” i Me

“Nothing to cover up with, Bess,” growled Donoyan.
“Tf they come for us on'the ponies, we'll have to fight
it out,” ales Hh

The scout took his field glasses from their soaked leather
case and shook the water off as well as he could. But
the wet lenses were so blurred they helped him little.

“Pye been wondering,” said Donovan, “about that fool
we come chasing. What do you suppose became of him,
Cody ?” - :

“I was wondering about that myself.’

“Likely he was drowned.” yt

“Tt’s likely, yet he may have reached one 2f the banks
and he may have got hold of a tree and been floated
down.”

“He wanted to get to that village,’ said Donovan, “and
this flood maybe helped him. He was a fool, and we were
bigger fools for follering him.”

“T was the one who did most of the following,” Buffalo
Bill reminded, with a smile.

Slinging the leather case again under his arm; the scout
took up his paddle club; and the attempt was made again

she said,

-to urge the cottonwood toward the shore farthest from. the

village.
“A snail could move faster,” cried the girl as she strained
at her clumsy paddle. “Are we moving at all?’
“Even a snail gets to its destination,” reminded the scout,
“if it keeps going; and we certainly are edging over.”
“Keep on edging!” shouted Donovan.

CHAPTER V.

FIGHTING THE PAWNEES.

The Pawnees sighted the people on the cottonwood when
it was still half a mile above the tepees. HB
- This was shown by the sudden movement among them.
“They've waked up to the fact that we're here,” ‘said
Donovan, “and now we've got ‘a fight ahead of us.’
“Keep edging over,’ urged the scout. ; :
They were still more than two hundred yards from the
bank on that side.
“The creek makes a bend there,” said the scout hope-
fully, ‘and 1 think that is going to help us. You can see
that we shall have nearly a half mile of water between
us and the Pawnees, and if the current sets right we may
be able to make a landing if we are a little farther over.”
He pulled lustily with the paddle. -
“Do we want to land there, if we can?” Bessie Donovan
demanded anxiously.
“We'll make a landing at any possible point; | think it
would be wise,” said the scout.
“Anywhere would be better than’ on this tree,” urged
Donovan. “If it should strike another tree, or a snag, it
might go under or turn over: And,’ he added, “that
wouldn't be fun.” i “
Some of the Pawnees had run out toward the pony
herd, but many more were crowding now close to the edge
of the turbid water, staring at the approaching cotton-
wood and its burden of water-soaked white people.
“Half those wartiors,” said the scout, “are in war plum-
age; paint, too, I suppose, though probably it’s smeared

 

  
 

8 NEW BUFFALO:

over them in wet streaks. Old Wanderoo’s villagesseems
to have been hit pretty hard; over there you can see three
or four tepees that.seem to have been. carried out of the
place and ripped into shreds.”

“He ought to have controlled that storm by his. witch-
craft,” said Donovan. “He’s going to lose prestige among
his fool followers now for not doing it, I reckon.”

“He's too smart. for. that,” reminded Buffalo Bill. “Old
Wanderoo can fake. up a reason for any failure. At a
guess, I’d say that he has been: attributing the failure of
his ‘medicine’ to the fact that white men have lately dese-
crated his medicine lodge. He can now say that the spirits
were so angry that they have even destroyed the medicine
lodge, and the flood was sent to.show their great -dis-
pleasure.”

“And that an make the old humbug a bigger. man than
ever in their fool estimation.”

~“Tt may. We're still edging over, Doveun

They stopped talking and pulled with all their might.

-The current here began to assist. Ahead it swung in
a bend away from the village, so that the deepest: part of
the creek was near the shore. Toward the shore the cur-
rent was setting strongly now, and the cottonwood felt
the effect. perceptibly.

But when they were still well above the village several
warriors appeared, mounted; and, plunging their pontes
into. the stream, they tried to swim out so that they ‘could
get close to the white people.

“Keep on with the paddles,” said Buffalo Bill;
if you aren't too tired for it.”

Father and daughter were both wearied to the breaking
point, their strength having been already sapped; but they
ignored this and paddled away as sturdily as they could
with their clumsy clubs, while the scout again looked at
his revolvers.

~The Pawnees having aio set what probably were their
best swimming ponies, came out rapidly, and it began to
seem that they might get close enough to do damage.

On. the high bank, the other Pawnees were yelling en-
couragement.

‘¥t's a long shot,” said the scout; “but that leading Paw-
nee needs to be taught a lesson. We'll see if I am a com-
petent teacher.”

The distance was too long for.a revolver. Though the
scout rested the weapon,
for the motion of the tree and the sweep of the wind,
the bullet did not reach the horse. But the fact that it
came so near catised a yell to go up among the Pawnees
on shore.

The Pawnee had been swimming behind the pony, cling-
ing to its tail; but as that position exposed his head and
shoulders, he pulled up to the off side of the animal, where
he could not be seen.

The head and neck of the pony were now all that was
visible.

While the distance was being decreased, the scout seized
the paddle club resting by him and threw himself furi-
ously into the work of .getting the tree still farther over.

“T’m beat out!” panted Donovan.

“Let up, then; and you, Miss Bess, ale
take care of this matter now.

Again taking careful aim, and sais for the distance
and the drop of the bullet, he fired.

He had estimated correctly; the bullet struck the swim-
ming pony in the head and it went down with a floundering
and convulsive movement:

The Pawnee, pulled under by the sinking of his pony,
came up soon, and was swimming. But he had a rifle, as
well.as a lance, and ‘they hampered him.

The scout sent a shot at the Pawnee swimmer as the
latter, now frightened, turned back toward his friends;
then he sent in: a second shot to hurry him along.

The other Pawnees, swimming their. ponies, came on,
however, urged by the yells of the Pawnees on shore.

But. when Buffalo Bill had killed two more ponies, all
turned about and swam for the safety of the farther bank.

Donovan laughed jubilantly.

“You're all -right, Cody !" he shouted.

“Hardly all right yet,” said the scout.
get off this cottonwood if we can.’

Though the current was: veering it shoreward, ‘it could
be seen now that the tree would not strike the bank there,

“that 1s,

29

said the scout.

“We've got to

 

- the attempt to’ swim their ponies across.

took careful aim, and allowed >

bin WEEKLY,
but would be swung on round the bend, oe probably a
would be taken again into deeper water. |. :

Buffalo Bull Penoc cd his. lariat from: the cottonwood
and. looped it at. his waist.. And having already stowed
his revolvers, he was ready for the next movement.

“Tf those wolves had boats they’ d get'us,” said Donavac.
“It's a good thing they haven't.’ ay

“You can swim,” said the scout. “Do you think you
are strong enough. now to swim ashore from here?” .

Donovan looked at the shore.

“IT can make the try, Cody.”

“I'll take care of Bess.. When you're -ready,’ slip into
the water and make for that point. We'll be right behind
you.’

Donovan began to kick off his wet boots.

“Pass them to me,’ the scout requested.

He took off his own, made the two pairs into a bundle
in his coat, and roped it to his shoulders.

“Out in the burned stubs of grass we can't get along
without something on our feet,’ he said, “so I’ve got
to hang to these.
laced.”

Donovan began to swim toward the shore, moving
feebly.

The scout drew the girl into the water.

“Can you swim?” he said.

“Not:a bit,
for swimming.’

“A flood like this isn’t a good place to practice in,” the
scout admitted.

“And it’s either a flood out here or a drought. .
not afraid, with you to help me.’

“Don’t - struggle,” he said, “and try to keep your mouth
closed.”

But I’m

But she was struggling violently bein he was halfway.

to the shore, and he had to tow her, which he did with

difficulty.

Donovan had gained the shore ahead of him, but a

too exhausted to render aid.

As soon as he had landed, the scout discovered Phas

Pawnee horsemen had gone upstream and were making
i i Some of them
were a third of the way over, i

“You'll have to look after your daughter, Donovan,”
said the scout, “while I try to warm the jackets of those
rascals. She is not unconscious, and will be all right in
a little while.”

He drew his waterproof, leather-covered metal flask
from his: hip pocket and tossed'it down.

(Youu ‘Il find whisky in that, if you need it. I’ll be back
shortly.”

From the nearest point of land he began to fire on the.

Pawnees in the stream, and drove them back, after killing
another pony.

“The water is falling, and they'll get over here after

a while, or at any rate during the night; and if we’re here

. then—well, God help Bess and her father!”

_ When he returned to the Donovans, he found the girl
in much better condition. Sill, he saw neither she nor
Donovan were fit for a long walk.

A further attempt to cross the stream was postponed.

by the Pawnees, who had now turned. their attention to
something else. There was a stir of excitement in. the
rain-soaked tepees and before them.

“What will they try now?” said the girl,

“Until they show their hand, we can’t tell.”

“Cody,” said Donovan, stirred into something of his.
old fire, “if an Indian could be as energetic at work as
in hatching up devilment he’d sure be a wonder.”

“But he wouldn’t be an Indian.’

“That's so, too. Takes all kinds of people to make a
world, and I s’pose that includes redskins. Wonder what
card they're going to play now?”

“T think I could walk—some,” said the girl, - rising.

“Hadn’t we better iry to oe away now, before they can —

get across?”

“Cody’d have: to ‘carry you if you tried it. Dake is
comin’ soon, and we'll. make our hike then—eh, Cody?
I don’t ‘believe they'll try the water again before

“But you can. see that the water is falling.”

"Wes, dts going down fast; but there will still be a lot ‘

 

Keep your shoes on, Bess; they’re aan

You see, a prairie girl never has much call.

 

dark cc

     
  
   

4

 

 
    

  

   
  
  

 

 

 

of it. They'll come across after dark, but we'll not be
here then. . That’s your notion, Cody?”

eYes. the scout agreed.

He was watching the stir among ie Pawnees.

Abt he cried. “That’s the meaning—they’ve got a
prisoner.”

He unslung his field glasses again.

3ut when the prisoner had been brought out on the high
bank no glasses were needed for the watchers across the
water to determine that he was Archibald Stepson Jones.

“That answers our questions as to Jones,’ -said the scout.
“The Pawnees captured him.”

“Well, he wanted to get back to the Pawnee village!”

The Indians ringed the little man round, and began to
march with him along the bank, yelling like wolves.

“Ah!” the scout exclaimed again. ‘There is old Wan-
deroo !”

The tall, thin old medicine man could be seen plainly,
when pointed out by the scout. He had dressed himself
fantastically, with a cloak of wolfskin round his shoulders,
the head of the wolf resting on his own head, and. he
marched now at the head of the yelling warriors.

The march took the Pawnees to a tepee that stood apart
from the others by more than a bowshot.

Then the scout and his companions discovered that the
tepee was filled only by a big stone that towered nearly
as high as the tall tepee itself, but only became visible
when the tepee was removed.

Buffalo Bill looked at this stone with much interest,
Then he got out his field glasses, cleansed the lenses as
well as he could, and trained them on it.

““Vou've heard of old Wanderoo’s witch stone,”
“and I think we're seeing it now.”

Donovan stood up and looked off at the stone.

“T’ve listened to some queer stories about the Pawnee
witch stone,’ he admitted, “but I never believed them.
Can that be the thing that all this nonsense has been talked
about ?”

“Tl have an idea,’ said the scout, “that we are going
to see if it is. It has been told, you know, that old Wan-
deroo slings his enemies up against the witch stone, and
that they stick there just like flies stuck against fly paper
and stay there until they die.’

“It’s the thing I’ve heard.
Cody.”

The girl got up unsteadily and took a look at the stone,
then used the field glasses.

“Tt seems to be just a big stone.”

‘The Indians were dancing round the stone, and the
beating of old Wanderoo’s medicine drum came clearly
across the water.

All at once the Indians separated into two parties, with-
drawing from the stone, so that again it was seen from
top to base. Before it, though, stood old Wanderoo and
his prisoner and another big Indian.

Archibald Stepson Jones seemed to have ended an im-
passioned appeal for mercy, and was now struggling vainly
to free himself. They saw the big Indian throw him down
and then wind a rope round him.

When the little man had been subdued, old Wanderoo
and the other Pawnee lifted Jones bodily from the ground
and threw him against the stone. When he struck the
stone he stuck there.

The staring watchers on the other side could see him
kicking and waving his arms. ‘The yells of the Pawnees
were redoubled in volume, so that even if the struggling
victim of the witch stone made any outcry it, could not
be heard across the stream through the Jee uproar.

he said,

But of course it’s a lie,

‘CHAPTER Via.

WANDEROO'S WITCHCRAFT.

The terrible and marvelous witch stone against which
Archibald Stepson Jones had been flung, and which held
him.in mid-air as if he were a butterfly pinned to a piece
of paper, drew the attention and comments of Buffalo

Bill and the Donovans, and became the supreme center of ~

interest for the Pawnees, .

Pale-faced and filmy-eyed, the girl watched the struggle
of the unhappy prisoner, not less strongly moved because
she could not understand i it.

sass . ‘

 

NEW BUFFALO

BILL WEEKLY. 9

“That is too horrible to look at!” she declared, turning

" away at last.

Yet she looked. again, drawn by it ‘peeerernly.

-“What’s the meanin’ of it, Cody?” demanded Donovan
in his bewilderment.

“Tt seems to me there must be an iron hook projecting
from the stone, and when Jones was slung up against it
the hook caught in his clothing, or perhaps in his flesh.”

“T guess you're right. It’s sure fascinating the Pawnees.
Seems something kinda miraculous about it, too, for you'll

notice that the Pawnees, excited as they are, are mighty

careful to keep well back from it. Looks as if they feared
it might catch them up and they’d stick there like Jones.”

“Likely ['m off in my guess as to the character of the
stone; but, however it is, you may be sure old Wanderoo
wouldn’t miss a chance to make the Pawnees fear his
powers and his ‘medicine.’ ”

“Thats tight, too.”

“He used to go strong on the wonderful foun he
had in the medicine lodge-—a marvelous mystery he claimed
it to be, but a fake of the worst kind; as Pawnee Bill and
I discovered.”

“Not a fake fountain, either. You told me about it. But
go over it again for Bess’ benefit.” ne

“The medicine lodge was built over the fountain. It
isn’t a large fountain, but strong enough to throw a stream
as big as a man’s w rist four or five feet into the air, Old.
Wanderoo, by inclosing it with his medicine lodge, kept
the Pawnees from getting too close to it, and then he began.
to work mysteries with it.

“He told them that he could turn the fountain of water
to a fountain of fire. And he did. It was a wonder—
from the Pawnee standpoint—and it made old Wanderoo
a powerful medicine man. The fame of it spread even
to other Indian villages; and stories, most of them ex-
aggerated, were heard in the towns of the white men—
stories told from lip to lip and repeated by gullible white
men who had never seen the fountain,

“T knew it was a fake as soon as | heard of it; but of
course I didn’t understand the nature of the trickery.
Well, when we uncovered the mystery it was the simplest
thing in the world. Old Wanderoo had a board which
he placed. over the fountain at an angle, and shot. the
water to the floor and it flowed off into the river through °
a hole in the wall of the lodge.

“That was when he stopped the fountain of water: Then
he had a big gasoline torch, which he lighted and set on
top of the board, so that the torch seemed to flame up
right where the fountain of water had stopped flowing;
and the Pawnees believed he had changed the fountain of |
water into a fountain of fire.”

“And no doubt,” said the girl, venturing to look again
across at the witch stone, “when this other mystery is -
understood it will be something as simple as that was.’

“It’s sure to be,’ agreed the scout.

“There isn’t anything that can be done to help that -
man?”

“Not a thing,” said the scout.

“I’m sorry for him,” said Donovan; “and, es qs
didn’t like the way he done us, I'd do anything to assist
him now.’

“We can’t do anything,” the scout repeated.

Archibald Stepson oS was still sticking to the sur-
face of the witch stone when sunset approached,

Every indication of the storm had been wiped from the
skies; but the stream still roared beyond its banks, though
it was now falling rapidly. A rim of sticky mud, mixed
with leaves, grass, and ashes, showed the high-water mark
of the floo

At Sei the scout had swept the surrounding coun-
try with his glasses, hoping to see Bear Paw. He did not
see the horse; but just before sunset a band of cayuses
came down the riverside, cropping the new grass close to
the line of the high water.

Some of them showed gall marks, indicating that they
belonged to Indians, and the scout "concluded they were
Pawnee ponies that ‘had been on that side of the stream
before the breaking of the storm.

His eyes lighted with interest when he beheld them.

“Tf we could catch some of those ponies,” he said, | wae
would help us out.”

Under his instructions Doan and the girl got under -

       

  
10 NEW BUFFALO

’

ae and the scout did the same, after he had set a
trap for the cayuses.

The trap was a simple affair, The big noose of a lariat
was stretched out in circular form in their course. To
the end of it another lariat was attached, which the scout
held as he lay flattened in his hiding place.

The concealment was of the poorest, for the new grass
“was short; but the darkening shadows, falling after sun-
“Set, as the ca'yuses fed along ‘the stream, aided his plan.

Seeing no man, the cayuses exhibited no sien of fear,
and the herd began to trail over the noose that lay on
the ground.

Suddenly Buffalo Bill perked the end -of the lariat he
held, and the noose was drawn together swiftly. He had
hoped to catch three or four at a pull; but he got only
‘two tangled, and one of these jerked free. The other
went down, with the noose round a foreleg and a hind leg;
and ‘before it could rise the scout was on it, with his
coat ready to throw over its head.

The remaining cayuses snorted and broke into a

Donovan and his daughter came hurriedly to the scout’s
aid, but he did not need them, for before they arrived: he
had made a hackamore of the lariat and had the cayuse
secure:

When he repens it and it tried to spring away, the
*gécond lariat round its neck threw it down.

An Indian cayuse, previously broken, it was not hard to
eee and as a roast of the scout’s skill they had one
nOrse ae
> eR

gallop.

  

 

Bess~ fo ride,” he said.

aD

or
the other one.
“While Bessie : Donovan was becoming

“I'm sorry I didn’t get

acquainted with
the Pawriee cayuse, Buffalo Bill had a talk with her father.

cline Pawnees will be crossing to this side,” he said,
a8 soon | as it is dark enough to’ make it safe for them; ;
aha in the hight they will rush this place, if we stay
“here.”

EAN. hich we'll not do, of course. I’m about all right
‘again, and’ so is Bess, and our clothing is certainly not as
wet as it was. Bess can tide, and we can do the walk-
ig act.

“For two reasons,” said the scout, “I think I ought to
stay behind. J can ‘e elp your re etreat—that isthe first
reason; I can drop’a bullet into the Pawnees after they
eross to this side, and iraw them off in another een
in pursuit of me.”

“When it comes to courage, you've got them all milling

OS)

oY

admitted the ranchman; “still, I don't take to ae cs
putting too much risk on you.”
“Tf F eo on with you, the Pawnees will follow us; and

they may throw a band in ahead of us and trap us in the
darkness. - You've zot to consider that,” the scout urged.
“While if I draw them off after me, it will be some time
before they understand the trick, and then you will have
a good ‘start. ‘

Ay advise you to strike straight for Pagoda Springs.
By daylight you will be beyond danger, I think; that 1s,
if my plan of pulling the ki-yis after me works suiccess-
fully, By to-morrow evening you can be there.”

“And what will vou be doing all that: time—to-morrow,
I mean? You haven’t any horse, and your chance of
getting Bear Paw again isn’t good. The Pawnees will
pick-him-up, and you will be on foot. Then they will
gobble you.”

“I can throw them in the night, Donovan; trust me, I'll
do: that. After I set them chasing me, I’ll play the fox
trick by doubling back; and leave them beating round
through. the dark,”

Donovan laughed in spite of his anxiety.

“Ud like to see ‘em ramming round that way,’ he said;
“and if any man can carry off that game youre the one.
Still, it looks like me and Bess desertin’ you.’

“Which it will not be; you'll simply be carrying out my
orders. Consider that I’ m in command, and you, as a good
follower, have only () Opey ordete se (0770),

“Y can see you're mighty anxious to have it your way.”

“ “Now. as tothe’ second teason—I said I had two: I
Tee to get across and see if I can’t do something for
ones.’

“That will sure put you in trouble,” Donovan objected.

--“T-shan’t feel right tinless-I make: the try for him.”
“Don’t you reckon he’s dead before now?” ~

 

BILE

   
  

’

 

  

Bie

 

 

“No one can say as to that; but if he is alive Ud dike
to help Hin, | iN

“Tf it wasn’t for Bess I'd like to go. with you; Ill admit
I’m curious to see what that mystery is, as well as to help
Jones. But of course I can't.’ Ee: ¢

“You can’t, Donovan.”

“And if the Pawnees get hold of you and ee youup
against that big rock?”

“T’ll try to see that they don’t. Of course it’s going to
be dangerous work to reach that stone, and what I’m‘to
look for when I get there I admit I ‘don’t know. . The
man was a fool for going back, but we can’t stop to chew
over that.”

“Tyo you believe that emerald-cache story? Yet some-
thing sure made him crazy to go. As for that letter—he
could have written that himself, you see; that letter don’t
prove a thing.”

“So. that’s my plan,” said the scout.

The. cayuse had been put on a picket rope and had
quieted down, and the girl had found it of a peaceable
disposition for an Indian cayuse.. She declared she could
ride it, even. though she had nothing to put on it but the
improvised hackamore.

When they acquainted her with the scout’s plan, she was
inclined at first to object strenuously, considering her own
safety only; but when she thought of the unhappy man
slung up against the witch stone, and of the little monkey,
whose fate was unknown, she changed her mind.

“We'll go on,’ she acceded, “It’s the best way, after
all.) We've still got our revolvers.”

“And plenty of water,” said Donovan.
tGceat,

“Tn the morning you may be able to shoot a prairie hen
or a rabbit,” the scout stiggested, ‘Sf you find that no
Indians are near you. I'll give you matches out of. my
Wz pena case, and tin foil to go round them, and you’ il
be able to build a fire; I think the rain belt was not wide,
and you'll find dry fuel beyond it. You ought to get along
all right, and.1 am sure. you'll find your way to Pagoda
Springs before to-morrow evening.”

He spoke hopefully, and he felt hopeful; that is, when
he was not thinking, of Jones. His fear for Jones was
greater than he cared to express.

As soon as darkness came, Donovan and his daughter
set out, the girl riding the Pawnee cayuse,

Buffalo Bill lay in ‘concealment by the stream, listening
to its roar and watching the camp fires flickering now on
the other side.

How his plan worked out will be seen later. |

“But not a thing

 

 

CHAPTER? VIL.

THE COURIERS REPORT.

 

Two days after the terrific cloud-burst and flood on
Trout Creek, young Bill Brady, trooper of the gallant a
Seventh, the mounted messenger mentioned in the open- i
ing chapte *r, galloped furiously down the main street of i»
Pagoda Springs, horse and rider showing every indica- i
tion of a hard journey. 4

“Are Buffalo Bills pards here?” he shouted, flinging ‘
to the ground in front of the hotel. -

Old Nomad bounced out.

“We shore aire, pardner.’’

“Well, T’ve got news for

 

“em. You're Nomad—l’ve
heard of you. Is Pawnee Bill here?’ "

“Right this yere way, ef you want ter see Pawnee.
What’s the: news?” 0,

The trooper climbed the steps at two jumps.

“Buffalo Bill’s captured by the Faves he said,

“Waugh!” Nomad roared. “Ye’re jokin’ !’

“Where is Pawnee?’ i

Pawnee Bill came out, followed by the baron and Little 4
Cayuse. A crowd began to collect, too, drawn by the !
horseman and his shouted words.

“Buffler is still slumberin’ away up at Denver Der !
ovan’s,” said Nomad, “fergittin’ thet Pawnees aire ram-
pagin’ ergin an” need lead; et war ther last word we i
had frum him. But we heerd thet a trooper had gone |
up thar wi’ ther latest news from old Wandéroo.”.

VT was. that trooper, and | went’ to” Donovan’s, “Cody
was there then and, as I had to ridé on to Cactus Cross-

 

  
 

‘war bags.

 

 

 

 

NEW BUFFALO -

ing, he told me that he would hit the trail right off for
this place, and Donovan and his daughter would go with

2. him.

“They haven’t appeared here,’ said Pawnee, suddenly

anxious.

“That's what I’m telling you; they've been captured by
the Pawnees!” |

“You got this word straight?” said Nomad.

“We've got a Ponca scout, Red Feather, who has been
watching the Pawnees for us. On my way back, as |
wanted to come here, I cut across a corner of Pawnee
ground, and I met Red Feather coming out of the Trout
Creek country. He was on his way with a report from
Major Baker. But I stopped him and he handed me the
news.

“According to him, Buffalo Bill and the Donovans got
caught in that cloud-burst, lost their animals, and were
carried by the flood down to the Pawnee village. There
was some fighting, he said; and the next day, or the next
night, the Pawnees rounded up Cody and the Donovans.

“There was another white man. He didn’t know who
he was, but he said that this white man had been stuck
on the big witch stone, and was dyin’ there when he left;
and word was out that the other prisoners were to be
served in the same way.

“Old Wanderoo has dug up the hatchet with a venge-
ance, and the Pawnees are amuck; that’s straight goods,
for Red Feather is as truthful an Indian as ‘you'll meet.

“As soon as I had that news, knowing that I’d need
help, I came right here to find Cody’s pards. I’m going
back as fast as my animal can flicker, and I'll lead the
way.”

“We'll get you another horse,” said Pawnee, “and we'll
be ready in fifteen minutes or less.
you'll have a chance to load up your stomach and your
See that you’ve got plenty of cartridges.”

He swung round.

“Get out the animals, Cayuse.
baron can be ready in that time?”

The baron had been smoking himself stupid for a week,
but the news aroused him.

“Fife minudes. iss enough vor me,” he said.
dot Toofer mooel, ve iss alvays readty.”

Nomad ran upstairs to his room with the sprightliness
Or a boy,

“T’ll be down quicker’n scat,” he declared.

But he stopped at the head-of the stairs. .

“Pard Lillie,” he called, “maybe ’twould be er good idee
ef we took all the men we can git; ef we've got ter charge
thet village we'll need men.”

Gathering together the water bottles, the baron began
to fill them at the pump.

“Oof idt vos peer,’ he muttered. “But Cody he iss say
peer iss no goot py der var drails on. \ Yiminy, Cody he
iss a brisoner; unt meppyso he iss also-o deadt! Budt

Nomad, you and the

“Me unt

oof he iss, he vill haf some Bawnees vor his gompany, I| ,

pedt you!” ’

Nomad came down from his room, strung round with
cartridge belts and revolvers, carrying rifles in each hand.

“Rustle the grubstake, baron,”
plenty grub, as well as ammunition.”

Running down the hotel steps, he saw that the animals
were being hustled out of the stable by Little Cayuse,
who had called some men to his assistance.

Brady’s steaming beast was being led away, and its saddle
had already been shifted to another horse.

The marshal came bounding up the steps, but Nomad
gave him hardly a glance. Once before, when the Paw-
nees threatened, and the marshal led a party out, he and
his men weakened when danger drew near, and back-
tracked into the town.

Yet, on second thought, considering his own advice
and wishes, Nomad turned toward him.

“Could we have twenty men?” he said. “’Twould be
ernough to whip ther whole Pawnee creation—ef they
war ther right sort.
men.”

A body of fighting men could not be got together even
in Pagoda Springs on such short notice.
promised to gather a company, however; but he said it
would take half a day.

“By which time,” said Nomad, “we'll be 0 fur ahead 9’

Maybe in that time .

he yelled; “well. want

But we shore want men—fightin’

The marshal .

A

PILL WEEKLY. 11°

ye thet ye'll never even see ther dust we're leavin’. But
cit ’em tergether, and bring ’em along; we'll do what we
kin, and ef we cant, we'll fall back fer yer reenforce-
ments. I’m sayin’ this,” he added, “but Pawnee he is in
command whenever Buffler is absent. When ther fightin’
et bergins, we’re all in command, I betcher, and right at
ther front.”

The marshal went out to speak to Pawnee, who had
hastened to join Little Cayuse at the stable, after giving
certain important orders.

The hurry hustle put Pawnee’s little party in the saddle
within thirty minutes after.the trooper struck the town;
and, with Brady leading, they galloped out by the way he
had come, and hit the high prairie beyond, leading toward
Trout Creek,

“T ain’t had time yit,” said Nomad, spurring up Hide
Rack until he was at Brady's side, “ter git any o’ ther
p'ticklers; but now my imagination is runnin’ on erbout
et until et is gittin ’a hof box, an’ is needin’ a little infor-
mation grease ter cool et.”

“There are no details,’ said Brady, who had been talk-
ing with Pawnee.

“Ther ki-yi said suthin’ ?”

“THe said that Buffalo Bill and the Donovans had been
captured; that the white man I spoke of was hanging
against the big witch stone, and that old Wanderoo was
mixing war medicine.”

“Yer said thet ther flood ketched ’em!”

“Yes, he reported that. He was hanging round the vil-
lage when the cloud-burst struck and the flood came down
the stream. He said that Buffalo Bill’s party lost their
animals, but that they saved themselves on a raft of logs,
and then the Pawnees gobbled ’em.”

“And that’s all?”

“Not quite. For Red Feather told me he crawled into
the village after dark with a Pawnee blanket round him,
and looked through some of the lodges, And he got close
up to the big witch stone, or as near as he dared to go
to it, and the white man was on it. He was afraid of it
then, and got out of the village as soon as he could, strad-
dled his cayuse, and hit the high places.”

“He didn’t see Buffler ?”

“No; but he heard the Pawnees saying they had him
and had the man and the girl who were with him.”

There was a curious flicker in Brady’s voice which
Nomad noticed.

“So that p'inted you fer Pagoda Springs?”

“Tt did—as fast as my horse could carry me. Red
Feather went on to make his report to the major.”

Nomad dropped back beside Little Cayuse and the baron.

“Waugh!” he coughed. “Waugh-h! Waugh-h-h!”’

“Tt iss trouple you,” said the baron sympathetically.

“T’m goin’ ter eat up er million.o’ Pawnees ‘fore I go
under, ef et is so.”

“He didn’t say dot Cody he iss deadt?”

“No; but ye know old Wanderoo, onct he gits started.
He lied ter Buffler; which, by puttin’ himself in the wrong
tharby, he’ll git hotter’n ever against him. Thet’s what
I’m thinkin’ erbout.”

“Unt Bear Paw,.. said the baron.

‘Thar was a hoss tervvel

“VYoost as goodt an animal as mein Toofer mooel.”

“Wuth er dozen of him. He war nigh about as good as
old Hide Rack. They don’t make ’em any better than old
Hide Rack.”

“You may pedt you dot der Bawnees tond’t kill no fine
animals like him oof dhey got him. So oof he vos nodt
svaller dot floodt vater unt make himselluf deadt he iss
all righdt.”

“ButsCody, |)

“T am peliefing he iss all righdt yet alreadty, too.
Meppyso dot is yoost der hobefulnesses oof Schnitzen-
hauser, budt I am sdicking py idt.”

“Waal, old Wanderoo will do some short repentin’ ef
{eit my finger on him, an et is so, Thet young teller
ridin’ now with Pawnee is shore skeered up er heap about
Donovan’s gal, an’ thet shows me thet he has told ther
trabh, *

“Ach! Jdt iss badt,” said the baron.

“Thet other feller, stickin’ ter ther witch stone! Do yer
swaller thet, baron?” ‘

 
a NEW BUFFALO

“Dot vitch sdone iss some schnides.”

“But he seen ther feller stickin’ to it.’

“He vos tied py dot stone, I pedt you. Anyhow, idt iss
a schnide; yoost- der same as der foundain, vot. iss vun
minude vater unt det nexdt idt iss sbouting fire.” C

So they talked, hard riding though they were into the
Pawnee country.

CHAPTER VIII.
BUFFALO BILL'S HIDE-AND-SEEK.

Denver Donovan and his daughter had not been gone
twenty minutes before Buffalo Bill heard Pawnees swim-
ming their cayuses across the stream.

The water had receded so that the width of the creek
was no more than half that of the afternoon; and there
was no doubt in the scout’s mind that the crossing could
be effected.

By listening closely he was able to estimate approxi-
mately the point where the warriors would make a landing,

Then he stole through the grass until he gained a posi-
tion which commanded it; and as soon as the cayuses
struck ground there he sent a revolver shot.

The Pawnees continued to land their cayuses, and did
not return the fire. There were about a dozen of them,
the scout judged. He heard the cayuses shaking them-
selves after climbing out of the water.

“That shot located me to them, and they ought to turn
this way now.”

For five minutes after he heard nothing; but in the mean-
time he had shifted his position and was farther out on the
ridge, trying to look in the direction of the creek.

Close by the creek he heard Indians stealing along.

Then he swung farther round, and succeeded in putting
himself on the other side of their landing place. When he
had done that he dropped another bullet, aiming it as well
as he could. ;

There was a reply, and the flash of the gun settled the
location of the Indian who fired it. The scout sent a bullet
back, and then shifted his position again.

This hide-and-seek through the darkness went on for
nearly an hour, and must have puzzled the slippery Paw-
nees a good deal,

At the end of that time the scout had wasted eight or
ten cartridges and had been shot at a dozen times.

Now, instead of seeking the higher ground, he sought
the creek. Close down by the receding water he crawled
along, feeling carefully, while he searched for a cotton-
wood limb or something that would help him in crossing
to the other side, for his intention now was to cross the
creek and get into the village.

He was satisfied that Donovan and his daughter, hav-
ing been given a good start, could get away without much
trouble and be far enough off by morning to be: practi-
cally safe.

So his mind turned to the unfortunate man stuck against
the singular stone, and he wanted to help him, even though
the risk promised to be great,

He found something better than a cottonwood bough—
a board torn from some settler’s cabin by the flood and
cast up there—and he seized on it joyfully.

As he launched it and let himself into the water, fol-
eng it with his body, he heard a Pawnee sneaking upon

im.

The scout was afloat on the board by the time the war-
rior reached the water’s edge, so he drifted on without
motion and listened. The night following the storm was
cloudy and dark, with a watery haze over the creek that
obscured him effectively.

The warrior waded softly into the water and stood
there listening. He was so close to the scout at the mo-
ment that the latter could have shot him, and might even
in the darkness have cut him down with a hurled knife.

Satisfied that his ears had misled him, the warrior
stepped ashore again, and the scout breathed easier.

“I didn’t want to kill the thief, and he might have let
out a warning yell,’ the scout muttered.

He began now to swim toward the opposite shore, with
the board under him. It was a long swim, which he could
have accomplished without the board, but it saved his
strength materially.

   

BILL WEEKLY.

Without mishap he reached the other shore and crept
out.

He was as wet now as he had been when the flood boiled.

round him; but he disregarded it and shaped his course
for the village, visibly seen by the light of its camp fires.

He kept close to the edge of the water, but because
the mud sucked against his boots and made a noise he
went farther out when the village was approached.

The warriors in the village, he discovered, were down
by the water, listening for sounds of the success or fail-
ure of those who had gone across on the cayuses. They

had been excited by the repeated shooting, and did not

know what happened.

A few, anxious for details, were swimming the stream,
but they were crossing in front of the village.

Feeling that he could not have shaped his plans better,
Buffalo Bill made his way round to the’ opposite side of
the village, where the great witch stone stood.

On his arrival there he found that the witch stone was
guarded by a warrior, who walked a beat to and fro in
front of i.

The scout crawled in close, and by lying on the ground
he got the bulk of the stone between himself and the sky.
He fancied he could see the man sticking to it, but was
not sure.

“That emerald-cache letter was certainly an unfortunate
gift for Jones,” he thought. c

Yet he was not certain that the letter was not a fake,
and the story of the emerald cache one also.

Creeping as close to the stone as he could without too
great risk of discovery, he waited until the warrior had
walked to the farther end of his beat, then he got in
nearer still.

By the time the brave turned to walk back, Buffalo Bill
A lying behind the stone, its huge bulk towering above
nim,

The warrior came to the end of his beat and went back;
and Buffalo Bill got in position for the work he had cut
out for himself. o

When the warrior again returned, the scout, launching
himself like a leaping mountain lion, hurled the brave to
the ground and as promptly choked him into silence.

Tying the brave with his wet lariat, the scout moved
along the face of the stone, and soon was sure that a man
Was against the stone over his head.

“Jones!” he whispered, standing beside the stone.

The form, stretched on the big rock stirred.

“Who is calling?” came down in.a faint whisper.

“That you, Jones?”

Ves: %

“Well, I’m Cody, and I’m here to help you. Your feet
ate right over my head, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Tm stuck fast,” said Jones. ‘Catch hold of my feet,
can’t you, and pull me down?”

The scout leaped, for there was no time to lose, and
caught the imprisoned man by the feet. Unfortunately
the face of the stone was smooth, so that there was nothing
by which he could hold except the feet of the prisoner;
and when he sagged down on them, his weight being heavy,
a groan came from the man and he cried out as if in pain.

Buffalo Bill released his hold and dropped lightly to the
ground,

“Jones!” he said, about to launch a question which would
aid him in effecting the rescue.

But there was no answer.

“Jones!” he called, still louder.

When still no reply came, he knew that under the strain
of the pain the rockbound prisoner had fainted.

“That's bad,’ he muttered. “I don’t know: how he is
fastened there, and I have hurt him; perhaps he was fas-
tened to some sort of iron spike.”

He shuddered at the suggestion and the thought of
what he had done if this were true.

“That cry may bring some one,” he thought, and turned
back to get his lariat.

He had unwound it from the unconscious Pawnee, and
was about to return to the middle of the rock, when a pat-
tering of moccasins sounded and half a dozen Pawnees
came leaping down the slope to the stone.

“Me for the darkness,’ said the scout, and slid off,
trailing the rope.

His attempt had been a failure.

 

 

     

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW BUFFALO

CHAPTER - 1X.
THE DONOVANS CAPTURED.

The discovery by the Pawnees of the unconscious guard
made it advisable for the seout-to get out of the village;
for as soon as the guard had been revived and told how
he ae been attacked, a search of the village was insti-
tuted,

Throughout the remainder of the night the Pawnees
were in a state of wide-awake confusion. Bands of war-
riors came and went, and there was a continual clatter
‘of pony hoofs.

Buffalo Bill could not get near the witch stone again.

When daylight came he was hiding out on the upland
back of the village, closely screened by rocks and sage-
brush. Behind him was a stretch of mesquite.

He had selected it as the best place for concealment,
yet it did not entirely satisfy him, for if located he knew
he would have a slim chance of getting off if his pursuers
took to ponies.

“It would be a fight to the finish,’ he commented grimly,
“and it would be my finish.”

Nevertheless, his determination to help the prisoner was.
unabated, though he really feared that by this time Jones
was beyond mortal aid.

In addition, he was incubating a daring plan which con-
templated nothing less than the personal capture of old
Wanderoo, who, after giving his solemn promise of peace,
had broken it and was inciting his warriors to hostilities.
Wanderoo, captured and taken to Pagoda Springs, would
hasten the end of the Indian troubles.

So Buffalo Bill, in his hide-out, meditated courageous
deeds and watched for the first flashing of morning sun-
light’ on the great witch stone.

But when the sunshine came and lighted the stone,
nothing was to be seen on it. Alive or dead, the prisoner
had been taken down.

“I’m afraid he is dead,’ said the scout, “and perhaps
I hastened his death. Well, I can’t get away now without
discovery, so I’ll remain and lay for old Wanderoo,” ‘

He tightened his belt a notch, for he was feeling the
pangs of hunger. His war bag of food had been with
his rifle on Bear Paw’s saddle. In the early morning rab-
bits hopped close to him, but even if he knocked one over
with a stick he could not cook it, and he had not yet
reached that stage where uncooked rabbit would seem
good to eat,

The Pawnee village was quiet after the excitement of the
night. From but a few of the lodges smoke curled. No
more than a dozen Pawnees could be seen—squaws mov-
ing lazily about, braves smoking in the sunlight before
the lodges.

The swollen current of Trout Creek had dropped notice-
ably, but still.ran a turbid flood in front of the village.
The high-water mark of the previous day could be seen
clearly, outlined by débris and mud.

The roof of the medicine lodge had lifted out of the
water, and half of the lodge itself had been disclosed;
but the lodge was in a state of wreckage that must have
troubled the heart of Wanderoo, for, built in part of mud
and mud bricks, the water had been able to do fatal work.

The warm sunshine on the slope where he lay brought
a degree of physical comfort to the scout. He got the
water out of his boots and dried his clothing, still damp
from the flood.

All the while he watched the village, interested in each
new stirring of life there. But he saw nothing of the
prisoner, nor of a guard before a prison lodge.

Not until afternoon did the Pawnees wake into activity.
Then a band of warriors came from upstream, ' As if
their coming were a signal,"braves came out of the village
and searched the river banks for tracks of the intruder

‘of the night.

Extending this search, they passed so close to the scout
on several occasions that he got his revolvers ready, an-
ticipating a fight.

The search was probably not as thorough as it might
have been if interesting occurrences in the village had not
drawn off the searchers. Old Wanderoo had appeared,
and, somewhat to Buffalo Bill’s surprise, he came out bear-
ing ihe hand organ and leading the monkey,

 

  

BILL WEEKLY. 13

The scout gave a low whistle, indicative of his aston-
ishment.

“Not long ago the old medicine man thought that mon-
key was an Indian devil, and was frightened half to death
by it. I wonder what he thinks now,”

Wanderoo had discovered that music could be produced
by turning the handle of the organ. To the ears of an
Indian it must have been queer music, unaccustomed to
anything but Indian chanting and the thumping of Indian
drums; but it gathered a crowd when Wanderoo planted
the organ before the door of the lodge and began to grind
away.

The strain floated even to Buffalo Bill, far out on the
hill slope.

For an hour the hand organ wheezed, in the midst of
that mob of Pawnees, Wanderoo giving place to other
Indians to turn out the music when he grew tired.

The experienced scout had witnessed many strange
scenes, yet he thought this the strangest—with the music
going and the queerly attired monkey bowing and dancing
and lifting its red cap, on the naked shoulders of old
Wanderoo, in the midst of that crowd of feathered red
warriors.

Certain things were made sure by the fact that the
monkey was there, apparently unharmed, Archibald Step-
son Jones had not been caught in the flood; he had got
out of the lowlands before it came and had then been cap-
tured by the Pawnees.

“T wonder,’ thought the scout, “if old Wanderoo knows
of the little machine gun hid in that hand organ? Jones
had cartridges for it, which he stole from Denver Don-
ovan; and if Wanderoo has those cartridges and knows
of the gun and how to use it, the old scoundrel might
put up a nasty fight when white men come against him.
Here’s hoping he doesn’t know about it.”

Buffalo Bill was disappointed in not seeing Archibald
Stepson Jones at any time during the day.

He intended to attempt his location that night, and
rescue him. The Indian pony herd he had located so
that he could have reached it on the darkest night.

“And I’ve got to get some food,’ was the further
thought, ‘and that means I must go into the village, even
though I should discover that Jones is dead. An Indian
meat ball, with beans and corn scattered through it, would
look mighty good to me now.”

The scout’s thoughts and plans were whirled into a new
course shortly after: sunset, when he discovered, far off
on the prairie, advancing horsemen, and, after training
his field glasses, saw that they were an Indian war party
with prisoners.

The Pawnees in the village, discovering them at about
the same time, a prodigious stir followed there. Ponies
were mounted by some of the warriors, who rode down to
the stream, swam the ponies across, and set forth to meet
the war party.

In the village the squaws stirred their lodge fires anew,
and the smell of cooking came tantalizingly to the scout.

As long as he could see he kept a watch on the approach-
ing band of braves, and knew, just before darkness shit
down, that the prisoners were two in number, a man and
a woman.

“Donovan and his daughter!” was his instant thought.
“Can at ber,

Buffalo Bill did not tarry long in hiding after that.

Before thick darkness came he was down by the stream
at the point where he had crossed in the night, searching
for the board on which he had crossed. Finding the board,
he went upstream and prepared to cross again to the oppo-
site shore.

His plans were inchoate, But he had made up his mind
to rescue the prisoners before they were taken into the
village if he could.

He tried to imagine how Donovan and his daughter had
been captured. The reasonable supposition was that one of
the war parties had struck their trail, followed them, and
trapped them, or overtook them after a chase.

When within half a mile or so of the creek, the return-
ing warriors began to yell. Then other braves from the
village splashed into the stream, some on cayuses, others
swimming.

Buffalo Bill was already over, and close down to the

point where it seemed the returning party would strike

  

   
  

14

the water. He had tried to protect his revolvers and car-
tridges, and rather anticipated that before the end he
would need them. He was still uncertain as to his course
of action. :

When the war party came up with the prisoners, joined
as it had been by other warriors, it presented a formidable
body. How many were in it the scout could not tell; but,
as the prisoners were near the center, with warriors close
round them, all hope of getting at them had to be given
over.

There was much hallooing and talk, with Indian laugh-
ter of the shrill kind; and this, combined with the tram-
pling of the hoofs and the splashing at the margin of the
water, made a lot of noise.

Still the scout did not see how he could reach the pris-
oners, until a thought struck him as the Pawnee cayuses
were entering the stream. Then the scout, who had been
close by, down on the ground beside the water, waded
boldly in, sheltered by the gloom, and caught one of the
cayuses by the tail.

The cayuse was among the last to plunge in.

Towed out by the swimming cayuse, the scout quickly
drew alongside, his body under water; then he caught the
Pawnee ridér by the foot. The next instant the Pawnee
was in the stream, and had gone under in a wild plunge.

When he came up he blew water out of his mouth and ©

uttered a yell.
By that time Buffalo Bill was astride the cayuse, with

the Indian’s blanket round him, having snatched away the

blanket as the warrior went off the animal.

The Pawnees had been driving a number of loose ani-
mals, which was a thing the scout counted into his calcula-
tions when he made the apparently desperate attempt to
get into their midst.

Hence, when the other warriors, drawn by that startled
yell, pulled back on their hackamores, and loose cayuses
as well as ridden ones were churning round, the warrior
in the creek could not tell which was his animal.

The braves began to laugh when he declared ‘that a big
fish had caught him by the foot and pulled him off his
cayuse.. He splashed frantically to scare it away lest it
might return and make another dash at him.

When the confusion had subsided and the. cayuses began
to swim again, the unhorsed warrior had gained another
animal; and Buffalo Bill sat serenely in their midst on the
back of his submerged cayuse, which, head well up, swam
bravely with him.

Unfortunately he was in the rear; and his cayuse, though
he tried to encourage it, could not put him forward, so that
he would be near the prisoners when the landing came.

There was much scrambling and confusion as cayuses >

and braves came up out of the water, greeted by the vell-
ing braves on that side—a confusion which the scout
had anticipated and had hoped he could use to advantage.

But the prisoners, being instantly seized on and whisked
into the center of the village, the scout was again baffled.

Slipping to the ground by the stream, he clung to his
streaming blanket and kept it round him while he remained
far back from the flaming fires that now illuminated the
principal lodges.

“T’ll bide my time,” he thought. “I’m in the village, and
my presence is not suspected; and if, with that advantage,
I can’t do something for the prisoners, it will be strange.”

He was still in doubt as to their identity, until he saw
them brought before old Wanderoo. They were Denver
Donovan and his daughter.

, CHAPTER Xx,
THE RESCUE OF BESSIE DONOVAN.

‘The weeping girl, in a dirty tepee, saw a blanketed figure
ky in at the entrance and squat beside it inside the
odge.

Though she had the fighting blood of the Donovans in
her veins, she was very much frightened and distressed
by her surroundings. =

She had been torn from her father’s side and .thrown
into this disordered lodge, where she had been peered at
as if she were a caged animal; though afterward a squaw,
without sympathy, had come in and seemed to be her guard
or attendant.

   

 

NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY.

The squaw had gone away for a minute when the
blanketed figure appeared. He was a warrior, she was
sure, for he was tall, and she would have preferred the
company of the scolding squaw.

Then a thing most unexpected happened.

When the squaw again darkened the entrance and
started to come in, the blanketed figure rose up suddenly
and as suddenly the squaw went down. She tumbled in
a heap; a rope squirmed and hands clutched; there was a
brief struggle.

In her fright the girl leaped up.

The blanketed figure rose.

“Don't be frightened!”

It was the voice of Buffalo Bill.

Bessie Donovan swayed weakly.

“Be quiet just a moment.”

The scout stepped to the tepee entrance and looked out,
and his blanketed figure excluded the light from the lodge
fire near by. ;

in an instant he had drawn back, and he now turned
about.

“You know me?” he asked.

“You are Colonel Cody!” she gasped.

“T haven't discovered where your father is held—yet.”

“He is here—he is a prisoner with me.” :

“So. I know. But you were brought here, and while I
was making sure of that he was taken to another place.
But I shall locate him later. Just now we must think of
escaping from this lodge.”

He glanced at the woman as he stepped away from the
entrance. @

“It was necessary,’ he explained. “These squaws are
often worse than the warriors, and she would have
screeched an outcry that would have been heard every-
where.”

*You—you didn’t kill her?”

“T haven’t even hurt her—very much. But I hope she
will stay asleep until we are out of the village.”

The girl was shivering with nervous excitement.

“Can we get out?” ;

“T think so.”

The scout stepped past her and drew the blade of his
knife quickly through the buffalo skin at the rear of the
lodge.

“Come!” he whispered. ee

She was trembling violently when he took her by the
hand and helped her through the hole he had slit in the
rear wall of the tepee.

“Straight ahead of us lies the creek,” he whispered.

They were outside. The fires before the lodges cast
the place where they stood in shadow. The sky looked
black as ink. And the darkness was inky before them
when they turned toward the creek, the scout still holding
Bessie Donovan by the hand to reassure her.

The scout halted beside the big witch stone.

“You didn’t see a prisoner in addition to your father?”
he asked.

“No. And that you are here bewilders me.”

“No more than your presence here has puzzled me.
I’m going to try now to find your father. He is in one
of the lodges, I’m sure. This stone casts a heavy shadow,
and I think you will be safe until I can return, if you will
ee here. You haven’t a revolver, of course?”

oO.

“I’ve one here that has been so water soaked that it’s
rusted; but perhaps, if needed, you can use it.”

It was at the end of a cord that passed round his neck.
Cutting the cord, he gave her the little weapon.

“There are six cartridges in it, and I hope you'll not
have to use even one of them. Don’t fire it unless you
feel compelled to. And stay right here. Under this Indian
blanket I feel pretty safe. But if anything should happen
to me so.that I don't get back, you will find the creek right
ahead. There are Indian ponies farther down, but likely
you couldn't, capture one, so perhaps you’d do best by

hurrying downstream, then crossing as soon as you could
do so and hiding out. But I’ll make no more foolish and
bewildering plans for you; I don’t intend to fail.”

Crouching in the dark shadow of the witch stone, Bessie
Donovan saw the heroic scout disappear in the direction

of the lodge from which he had brought her. For a min-
ute her hopes yere feverishly high—the great scout had

 

 
 

 

‘that he is safe.
Then she was disturbed by a small black’ object that

‘riors shouted...

' what she ought to. do.
’ could hear them;

“NEW BUFFALO:

apne so. successful thus far—she had wanted to ask him
..a hundred questions; then the pendulum of her excited

imagination dropped downward, and she. saw all sorts
of dangers and disasters portending. Hi
The next two or three minutes that went by seemed

-yery long. Time always seems long when we watch it.
- She fingered the little revolver nervously and listened,
_ staring .out at the distant fires and the passing figures of

Pawnees.
“So long as I hear nothing,’ she concluded, “I'll know
And father must be in one of the tepees.”

came pattering over the ground and up to the witch stone.
“An Indian dog,” she said; “or is it a wolf pe
She had heard dogs snarling and barking in the village.

Every | Indian village is filled with mongrel and worthless
_ CUPS.

Ths was one of them—a black, wiry, Pawnee dog; that

_ sniffed along the witch stone; and then, locating the girl,

began to leap up and down and bark furiously.

i chilled the blood in her veins; not because she was
afraid of the: dog, but. because she was, afraid of what
this. probably meant.

She searched round on the ground, and pelted it. with

_the pebbles she found, at the same time whispering orders
10: it.to go away.. —

‘hese actions only served to make it more furious. It

‘yelped louder, made frantic dashes at her,.and was away,
- to.return-at once, with still more of.a ‘clamor.

The girl was in a state of terror.

Some one came bounding toward her. She thought it

: might be Buffalo Bill, but was prepared to find that it was

a. Pawnee warrior.
From farther off a voice shouted at the dog.
The advancing figure leaped round the end of the big

. -stone,-then spoke to the dancing, dog, and she knew she -

had a Pawnee brave to deal with.
When: he stepped toward her, apparently seeing her, she
lifted the little revolver and fired upon. him; then she

turned and ran with wild haste in what she thought the ©

direction of. the river, not stopping to. see if her chat had

_-taken. effect.

For a time she thought she heard the thudding steps of

a pursuer; and she kne ew that her shot had thrown the .

village-into a state of confusion. Dogs. barked and war-
Some of the lagee, fires, kicked asunder,
went out.

How. she got down the ine to the stream she did not
know. At times she seemed to be falling; but she found
herself crouching and trembling in the darkness, listening
to the noise she had left behind.

As. soon as she regained her breath she tried to think
Warriors were on the slope—she
and others were running in various
directions,

In the midst of the general clamor she thought she heard
the dog that had frightened her and started her flight.
«We may follow me,” she said,
one side. But I'll stay close to the creek, for I’ve heard

that wading .in water will break a trail for a dog.”

She had clung to her .revolver..

Aided by the darkness, she remained undiscovered. She
heard warriors urging the dog; but its courage alw ays
failed when it got away from the lodges, or perhaps its
nose was not good.

Then came the welcome voice of ae Bill, close at
hand. He had called softly.

She answered, and he rejoined her.

CHAPTER XL
DONOVAN AND JONES:

ener po an, separated from his daughter, had been

loaded with wet ropes ” buffalo hide and thrown into a

dark lodge.

“The Red-hot. Pare is in ihe fire, sure enough |” he

. groaned,

. His own situation was bad Sanek. -but he. feared thaw
an daughter's was. worse, and he- unduly blamed himself
dor what had happened:

“An old-timer like me oughtn’t have ‘Pullen to. a eat

“yet maybe you will.

‘so L must move off to .

for everything

BILL -WEEKLY. 2S

trick like that,” he growled. “It was careless and “pure

~ eriminal in me that] did?”

He might have ‘gone on erutnbling at himself . and
anathematizing the Pawnees if a voice near at hand had
not stopped him. The surprise of hearing the voice was
enough to make him jump.

“Eh?” he said. “What's that—you'’ rea white man: 2

- The’ man groaned.

“l’'m a white-man, and in the same trouble you’ re in
now. You're Donovan, I think. v

“And you are- ety

“Tones.”

“T thought so; but your voice didn’t sound satan? ”.

“Tt used to be that I called myself Jones, but now 1 call
myself a first-class fool.”

“You saw me when I was brought in sith: my daughter? ;

““T heard you. With this tepee closed tight I couldn’t
‘see you. And I didn’t really hear you—what I heard was
the Pawnees; but I knew they had prisoners.. It’s a thou-
sand pities that the devils have got your daughter.” ae

“Don’t I know it!”

‘Donovan pulled at the -wet cotds on his wrists, and the
little man subsided ‘into silence.

“I heard you saying how you got into their bands: that

 

“is, you were mumbling about it—I didn’t get much.”

“By being a fool,” said Donovan.

Hes, that s what you said; but it ain’t particulars.
But even that en t interest me, after what T have: ‘been
through.”

 *Been havin’ a tough time?” ead ‘Donovan. '

“I’m hoping you won’t have to go through the same:
And the same here, too; they threat-
ened to put me up there again.”

“Up where?”

“On the witch stone.’

Donovan stopped patie: at the buffalo-hide haa

“What about it?” he said; and Jones heard him aed
ing heavily.

“Vou know about that ‘witch stone?”

Te heard queer yarns, that’s all; I never ive much
stock in ’em. A fake of some kind, T reckon; one of old
Wanderoo’s ways of getting power over the Pawnees.”

“Yes, it’s that; but it wasn’t any fake so far as the
pain went. I never suffered so much in my life. Tl take
that. back, though ; it was worse when I was roasting in
that dugout.”

“This stone is close by?” said Donovan.

“Right here in the village. I'll tell you Late t it, then
you can judge for yourself, and maybe you'll know as
much about it as I do. I hope you'll never gain knowledge
of it in any other way.”

“Tikely,” said Donovan, with a flicker of impatience,
“you wouldn’t get into trouble ns if you had remained

with Buffalo Bill.”

“We won't quarrel—we’d be fools to do it now. I
didn’t care to’ stay. with Cody, even after he had got me
out of that cellar under the dugout.”

“Why t p

“That part isn’t important:
thinking of the emerald cache.

yet I'll admit that I was
I offered Cody half of

_ the: emeralds—fifty thousand dollars—if he’d help me

Iécate and get those emeralds; they’re said to be worth a

hundred thousand do llars, and that’s a lot of money.’ Fur-

‘ther than that, I figured’ that while this Indian War Was on
nearly all the warriors would be gone from the village
Generally it’s that way; the braves go out to tal
fight, and no one is in the village except old men, women,
and children. It looked as though I might find it a better
chance than ever.

“So I wanted to go, and I went; and I took the monkey

_ and the machine gun in the organ

“And two boxes of .38’s belonging to me!”

“Sure I did. I knew you had ’em, and I wanted ’em;
for without ammunition the machine gun wouldn't have
been worth my carrying. You followed my trail, I sup-
pose—or Cody did?”

“And got oursely es into’ trouble. You’ re to. blame, Jones,
that has, happene d since,”
(aaa BOrny, for that.” . LA pat
_. “I'm tellin’ you. only ie fant fr uth, Tones _ And now
Tm a prisoner, and my daughter ‘1S, and what's goin’ to
happen the Lord only knows.”

 
NEW: BUFFALO

16

“I hope you don’t get acquainted with the witch stone.”
“You set out to tell me about that.”

“And wandered off. Well, the Pawnee laid a trap for
me; they must have seen me coming, when I didn't see
them; and I was right in their midst in the bottom of a
draw before I knew it. They rose up all round, grabbed
my bridle, and one of them belted me on the head with
a lance. That knocked me to the ground, and they had me.

“T wanted to get into the village, and they brought me
—lashed to my pony. Old Wanderoo took the organ and
the monkey that they brought in, too; and they had a
powwow over me and talked of burning me alive, for I
had stolen the monkey and hand organ away from them,

‘you'll remember.
' “They ended by kicking me half to death for pure fiend-
ishness;. and when I was too weak to do anything except
yell at ‘them, they threw me against that stone.’

“They did that—and you stuck there?”

“There were ropes round me; I was lashed like a bale of
“goods.”

“But what made you stick there?”

“That’s what I don’t know.”

“You don’t know ?”

“T told you I didn’t know enough even to think, about
that time; but when | had been slung against the stone
came ‘back to myself, as you may say. I hit the stone

hard, and that knocked some life and sense back into me.
I woke up—that’s how it seemed—and es I: was, kick- ~

ing away against the stone.

“But,” he added, “there seemed to be some kind of a
ness or something on my back—felt like an unyielding
mustard plaster, and I don’t know but that’s what it was,
or maybe a harness of ropes—and A was hung up on a
hook like a piece of. butcher’s meat.”

“Lt urt vou?” ‘

“Well, after I’d sagged down in those ropes an hour or
two I felt as if I was being cut to pieces by them, I can
still feel them burning into my flesh, though they haven't
been on me for hours : now; it became torture of the worst
kind. I think I should have died there if a queer thing
hadn't happened.”

“What was that?”

“Cody came to me in the night; if he didn’t, I’ve
dreamed this part of it! He came to me, and I heard him
speak; then he tried to get me down from the rock, and
pulled on my feet; but that made the rope cut so that I
fainted. The next thing I knew I was in this lodge and
daylight was coming.’

“What became of Cody?”

“IT wish I knew.”

i ee didn’t hear the Pawnees saying anything about
im?

“T can’t understand their gabble;
nothing else I’d not know it.”

Donovan lay silent, thinking this over, also wondering
about the witch stone.

“Cody may be round here right now,” he said finally.
“We left him near here. We got caught in that flood,
following you. It drowned our horses, and would have
got me and Bess but for Cody.

“Lain’t going to repeat all that | might—only the things
that will be interesting and help us to an understanding.
But Cody, he stayed here, after we got out of the flood,
and Bessie and I started off to make our way to Pagoda
Springs.

“We had one cayuse, which Cody had lariated.. I told
you we had lost our horses.

“On. the way the Pawnees played a trick and raked
us in.

He was silent again.

“Tye been in the Indian country and on the. plains a
long time,” he said, “and that oughtn’t have fooled me.
But this was how it was: We saw two white men,. as
we took em to be. They were down on the ground, one
bendin’ over the other, and their horses were standin’ by
‘em. I think it was. the horses fooled. me more than the
men, for they were cavalry horses, with cavalry accouter-
ments I forgot to say that the men were in cavalry uni-
orm

“So we rode up to them—they seemed to ‘he needin’ help,
and we. didn’ t know they were Indians until we were nearly
on top of. ’em. There was a band of Pawnees lying | there

SO if they talked of

RR ret tn eee

Jones.
“why ne has remembered the trick. But it’s all guess-

Rattan thea tas aioe

BILL -WEEKLY.

in-a draw, too, and they had us before you could think
twice.

“Bess was pulled from. the cayuse with a rope ae
her neck; and when I tried to get out my revolvers and
put up a fight I was cracked on the head with a lance,
and that finished me.

“When I came round, Bess was screaming and I was
tied,”

He subsided weakly.

“That all?” came in the voice of the other prisoner.

nit was enough. We were brought here—and here we
are,’

“Tf Cody. is still-around,”’ said Jones, “we can count on
him doing: something. But he may be dead; there’s been
a lot of excitement, “and 1 don’t know what has happened.
They're bound to get him some day—the Indians are—and
it might happen right here, you know.”

A sound at the entrance stopped the talk.

“What was that?” said Donovan.

vA dog, I reckon; I’ve heard ’em Doe all round.
But I'd give all those emeralds—that I haven't got—if it
was Cody.”

The scratching continued;
the tepee.

“A dog,’ said Jones.

But the next moment he added:

. “Thunder! It’s: the monkey!”

Apparently the monkey had been forgotten or neglected, -
and was hungry. It began to search round, as if hunting
something to eat.

“Come here, you little rat!” Jones whispered.

The monkey went on with its search.

“TE you could make it understand,” said Donovan,
could send it in search of Buffalo Bill anid——”

The -low, half- hysterical laugh which broke from the.
other prisoner indicated that his nerves were unstrung.

“Why don’t you go on?” he said. “If we could dictate.
a letter to Cody, and the monkey could write it down, ét
cetera, the possibilities would be great, if. the- ‘monkey
was a man—which it isn’t.” |

“Hello!” whispered Donovan in surprise.

“What's happenin’ now?”

“Why, the monk has hopped oyer and is fingering over
these rawhide thongs!’ ’

Jones tried to lift himself, but got only on his elbow.
He stared across the dark tepee.

“Say,” his shrill whisper sounded, “that monkey be-
longed to. Bob Dalton, you remember; and I’m wondering
now if that tinhorn, thief, and all-round scoundrel didn't
take the trouble to teach the brute something of that
kind; he might have thought it would come in handy some
time; that the monkey might remember the trick and
untie him some time when he needed badly to be untied.”

Donovan did not answer, but he was breathing heavily.

“What do you think of that?’ demanded Jones.

“That maybe you're right. Anyway, the critter is
fingering at these strings as if he had intentions. Go

then something came into: -

6s.

and

- on, monk!”

“And if he unties you, or either of us, He one freed
can untie the other.”

He had forgotten his weakness, the torture of the witch
stone, the pains from which he ‘still suffered. His voice
sounded strong again, and resolute.

““Coax him along,’ he whispered to Donovan.

“Tf I only knew how,” said Donovan. “But he i
stopped now, and seems to be huntin’ for something to
eat again,”

“Come here, monk!” Jones whispered.

Instead of obeying, the monkey went back to Donovan
when ready; it showed no haste in doing it.

“Fingerin’ the strings again,” said Donovan, his tones
showing excitement. “We'll pass up to Bob Dalton a
vote Bh thanks for this, if he’s responsible and ain’t* hung
before we get back to the land of white men—if we ever
do. I’m meanin’ if this monkey carries this off and re-
leases us. Seems like that is the thing he has got in his
head now.” -

“Maybe you make him think of Dalton,” suggested
“You're about his size, you see, and that’ s maybe -

ke

”
work, - woof

AAS PAA RS ag ERT TREO Cr age

 

 
 

 

      

 

NEW

“Go. ahead, monk!” Donovan urged.
strings, and be quick about it!”

But the monkey stopped work again just when Don-
— hopes were rising, and began another search for
foo

Suddenly it squeaked and hopped toward the entrance. —

An Indian had come up, and the monkey had caught
the soft sound of his sliding moccasins.

Throwing the lodge skin open, the Pawnee came inside.
As he did so he discovered that the monkey was there
and caught it in his arms. Then he spoke, and they knew
that he was old Wanderoo, the medicine man.

Seeming to sense that-something was wrong, the medi-
cine man asked a question, forming it first in Pawnee then
in English.

Donovan replied surlily.

“To-morrow you get the witch stone,”
ened, and went out.

“He took away the monkey,”
again. : fee

vWes,° “he took it away, and. that
chance i is gone. But; like enough, it was.no chance; only
™ we hoped it might be.”
4 He subsided for a minute.

-Wanderoo threat-
-said Jones, his voice weak

growled Donovan,

“Vd like to know what has happened to Bess,” he said
anxiously.
“And I,” said Jones,

4 “would like to iow what has hap-
Me pened to Bill Cody.” ~ ; Me ae

CHAPTER: Xi.
WITH THE PONY SOLDIERS.

m “Is om Uncle Sam troopers, er jest common om-
@ brays?”’

| Pawnee Bill did not need to unsling his glasses; for the
)) distant horsemen, first sighted by old Nomad, came quickly
a into better view on the top of a wide- swept ‘ridge.

% “They’re pony soldiers, all right,’ said the young trooper,
m Bill Brady; “its a detachment pushed out by the major,
@ I’m guessing, in answer to that hurry message I sent. to
i him.”

| Pawnee Bill’s party made itself uhic: and the troopers
» pivoted round on the ridge and came toward them.

» They were, as Brady guessed, a small company of the
» Seventh Cavalry, in command of Lieutenant Sefton, on
| their way to the scene of the Indian troubles.

“Back yonder, on the other side of that. ridge,” Sefton
reported, “we came on the mutilated and stripped ‘bodies
© of two troopers, who had been sent out to scout in Pawnee
\cround. We buried them where we found them, and
took up the Indian trail and were following it when we
) sighted: you.’

“Old Wanderoo is hitting fast and hard,” said. Pawnee,
beginning to tell what he knew of the situation.
Brady added his quota,of information.
‘We had been follerin’ ther aidge o’ ther flood water,”
said Nomad, “an’ hittin only ther high places, in our con-
Msumin’ anxiety ter connect up with ther reds in Wan-
® deroo’s village. Sence they’ve corralled Buffler an’ ther
» Donovans, ther sooner we gits thar ther better we're goin’
Wter like et. Still, as thet trail out yonder is toein’ gin’ral
Win the same direction, mebbyso we'd better figger et out,
too, as we passes érlong. ‘Tain’t never wise ter leave
wa thing like thet unciphered ; ye cain’t tell but et may
mindercate. a trap fer ye later on: ;-
When the trail beyond the ridge was
Withe experienced trapper and Pawnee Bill,
) revelation.
i A few miles below, in the direction of Trout Creek, the
Mtrap had been laid by this Pawnee war party which had
(resulted in the easy capture of Donovan and his daughter.
We Pawnee and Nomad went over the ground very care-
Mfully there.

““inciphered” by
it brought a

Soon Pawnee held up a com button to which was “ats

itached a strip of cloth. Donovan had been roughly han-
dled and it had been torn from his coat.

Brady turned pale when he saw it.

“Can you find anything. elsé?” he said.

He swung down and tried fo help.s
“This hyar report,” said Nomad, bending over some
Ftracks, “

BUFFALO

“Rite into: them.

‘Donovan's: gal?

ain't o° ther kind thet I takes pleasurg in makin’; -

BILL WEEKLY. ee

but I’ reckon es ther truth tes got ter come out—ther
sooner ther better.” oy oe
"He beckoned to Brady.
“You wouldn’t recernize ther tracks oes by ther shoes
0 ther young lady I has heard yer mentionin’ frequent—

Anyhow, thar they aire. She was on a
caballo, and was jerked off, and her heels hit right thar
and jabbed them holes in the sile; you Cat see ‘em yer-"
self. How I’m kriowin’ et war her i is, Pawnee found thet |
button and cloth, which you has identified as b’longin’ to
her pas and right hyar’—he stooped and picked it up—
“is a bit 6’ ribbon. . thet she dropped es acksident, or
mebbyso on purpose.’

Brady stared at the bit of ribbon.

“Ves,” he said, “I saw her wearing that very ribbon.”

“I’m thinkin’,” said Nomad, “as et war crushed hyar
inter a little ball, thet she pinched et inter thet shape and_
drapped et while her dad was interestin’ ther Pawnees ,
and she thought et wouldn’t be seen. And ef I’m right
1 reckon thet likely she thought you might come gallopin’
erlong this way and find et. Anyhow, you take et and

‘hand et back to her when ye meets erg’in.’

Brady, clutching it in his hands, looked at the trapper.

“Do you think the Pawnees have killed her?” he said.

“T ain’t believin’ et; son. Not because they’re too good,
but jest bercause I don’t want to. Unless compelled, 1 _
never does nothin’ i don’t want to. I su’gests ther same
ter you; dont’ believe et unless ye have to.

» “Thar is one thing to be recomembered,” he said, noting
the pain in the face of the young trooper, “ Buffalo Bill”
is out yar,”

“And a prisoner—perhaps dead’

“Thet is. another ‘unpleasant thing I wouldn’t believe
unless I had to; so I don’t. He ain’t dead, and chances aire
he ain’t even a pris’ner. I has knowed Buffler ; many y’ars..
Ther inginooity of him-ain’t no equal; and ef thar is
any fightin’ through hard luck, ye can depend thet he has

done: et, or will.’

The trooper exhibited the ribbon to the company, then
folded it in his pocketbook and put it away.

“T don’t suppose we've got enough men here to Ae:
that Pawnee village?” he said anxiously. “But I’m in favor.
of it, anyhow; for, you see, if we wait

“We've been talking of that,” said Pawnee, who had
been speaking with the lieutenant in command. “Delays
are dangerous. Apparently the Pawnees sure have Pard
Cody and‘the Donovans. We figure it that the Donovans
were on their way alone to Pagoda Springs, and were.
trapped here by the Pawnees, who killed the soldier
scouts. There is no indication that Cody was with them,
though you know that he set out with them from Don-
ovan’s ranch. The Indian scout you met reported that the
Donovans and Cody were prisoners in Wanderoo’s vil-
lage, and I guess that report was right. So we're going
to move for that village as fast as our animals can take us.”

“We can’t get there before night, though.”

“Tt will be midnight or after,” said Pawnee.
now is to attack the village early i in the morning, and to
do that successfully we will have to approach it in the
night to avoid discovery.”

The young trooper swung grimly to his saddle.

The lieutenant gave the command to advance, and the
party swept forward, following the trail of the party that
had taken the Donovans to the village.

Halfway to the village, they came on a sight that
mightily stirred the friends of Buffalo Bill.

Bear Paw, the scout’s horse, with bridle and saddle on
and rifle slung to the saddle, was grazing not far from ~
Trout Creek.

“That looks bad,” said Pawnee, his face troubled.
oe -a word, Nomad began to ride toward Bear
aw.

But he was seen to stop suddenly. Whirling Hide Rack
round, he beckoned, Net

“See them pony tracks?” he said, pointing them out
when he was joined by the party. “Them Pawnees we
aire follerin’ seen old Bear Paw furder down and chased
him here—thet is ther way I make et out, But ther sen-

 

sible critter wouldn't be caught by em. Either thet, er
some band o’ Pawnees chased him.”

“Though Bear Paw had evaded the Pawnees, he came
up siowly when old Nomad cailed to him, yet snorting and

  

  

~

 

 

“Our idea
    

18

suspicious, with neck arched and nimble feet daintily spur-
ring the grass, ready to rush away.

Nomad still calling to him, he came on, and soon was
rubbing noses with Hide Rack,

“When nature give Injuns tongues ter tork aa an’
denied thet power to a fine hoss Ailed Bear Paw, she cut
a scurvy trick?’ declared Nomad. “Ef ole Bear Paw
could sling jest a dozen er so words now fer our ben-
efit, ‘twould be mighty enlightenin’ ; but he can’t.”’

“Taking for granted,” said Pawnee, “that what we have
heard and what the indications declare is so—that Cody
-is at Wanderoo’s village—I think we had better not lose
time in following Bear Paw’s trail. He has probably wan-
dered over miles ‘of territory.”

“Jest ther same,” said Nomad, as he prepared to take
Bear Paw in tow, “ef things don't turn out right an’ Buf-
fler ain’t located prompt, I’m comin’ back hyar to do thet
very thing. You'll want ter, too, Pawnee, and so will ther
baron and Cayuse.”

Night dropped its black blanket. over them before the
village of Wanderoo had been sighted, even though they
rode hard: and the time was long past midnight when they
caine to the ridges near Wanderoo’s village and tried
to-look down into the mud-soaked bottom lands. of Trout
Creek.

They could see fires in the village, but they were still
- too far off to hear anything, though ‘the fact that fires were
- flaming at that time of night indicated either that exciting
things were eccernes or. that the. Pawnees anticipated an
ek

Familiarity with the location ened) Pawnee and. his
pards to guide the troopers to the stream, and to a good
ae place some distance below the village, where they

got over, though still there was so much w ater in the creek

that the "horses had to swim.

With the animals left in charge of a small detail, Lieu-
tenant Sefton led the others toward the village, guided by
Pawnee and Nomad.

“Just at daylight we'll attack,” said the licutenant; rand
the bigger the surprise we can throw into them the better
will be. our. chances of success and of saving the pris-
oners.”’

Nomad came up as Pawnee and the lieutenant discussed
plans. N

“Tm goin’ ter make a modest tekwest,”’ he said.

“Yes?” said Sefton.

“Pm knowin’ ther ways of Injuns er heap.”

“No man on the border knows them better, Nomad.”

“This rekwest is thet | may be allowed ter cr ‘awl inter
ther village and poke round a bit. Ef ther pris’ners aire
thar, mebbyso I could loose ’em; an’ ef thet cain’t be done
fer any reason, then | ¢’d mebbyso lay clost by ‘em and
_shoot down any Pawnee dog thet tried to injure ’em. when
; you starts yer attack.”

-“You think they may be killed when we attack?”

“Et-is er thing ter be feared, lieutenant, an’ yer knows
et,!

Seeing that Sefton hesitated, he added:

UN @ Can trust me, lieutenant; I ain’t no bushwhanger,
to go trompin’ erlong makin’ as much noise as a hoss;
‘so yer needn't be feared thet ll put ther Pawnees wise
Ler ther fac’ thet you aire hyar.”

“You're all right in any old way,’ commented Pawnee 3
“Lieutenant Sefton isn’t doubting old Diamond.”

“Only doubting his ability to bring his scalp back with
him, that’s all,” said Sefton. “But it’s a wise idea, and
if Nomad wants to risk his hair that way I’m not going
_to say he shall not. It would be too bad to have the
prisoners hatcheted after we make our rush.”

“Then I’m off,” said the borderman.

He swung round, with rifle at trail, and vanished into
the darkness akmost instantly.

CHAPTER XII.

BRINGING THEM IN.

A quarter of an hour after old Nomad’s departure he
reappeared, rising into view at the feet of the waiting
troopers when they.did not know-he was-near. ~

“Waugh!” he breathed,
Pawnee?”

“Whar’s the . lieutenant and

   

NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY.

    

     

“Here,” said. Pawnee. “You tre back, and you | tried to
throw a fright into us?” ea

“H’st! They're comin’, an’ clost now. 4 ‘hustled. on
ahead so’t some pony soldier wouldn’t be tempted. ter do
gun work, not understandin’.”

The grass rustled, and Buffalo Bill rose into. view. _ Be-
hind him, her feet haying made the: noise they heard, “was
Bessie Donovan.

“Whoash !” gulped old Nomad. eae ye boar o 2 Buf-
fler an’ Donovan’s gal! Glee-ory!. Halleluyer!?: . -

Brady, the young trooper; sprang. forward. iy

“Bess!” he gasped. “I mean, Miss Donovan. -You're

safe; thank God, you’re safe!”

“You: here !” she Said.

“And friends in plenty; troopers of ie Seventh, _and
Buffalo Bill’s men; and——’

But he recollected himself and drew back.

“Father is still a prisoner,” said the girl, trying to see
the men about her. “I don’t know where he is, and Colonel
Cod

on kin count on Buffler ter git next,’ ” broke in Nomad,

“now thet he has men ter. back him.”

He swung round, explaining:

“Met up with ’em right out thar; ‘they war comin’ this
way, but slow, as Buffler didn’t know who war makin’
ther sounds out .hyar. I reckon so: you: fellers thought you
war quict as mice, but he had heard ye. i rammed right
inter him, and ef he’d. been an Injun

The del lighted old. trapper would have Captian -on, he
was so pleased. But Cody had -begun a conference with

 

 

--Pawnee Bill and the lieutenant, and Nomad silenced: his

tengue to hear what was. being. said.

la the first place, Buffalo Bill gave a running, eat
recital of his’most recent adventures in and. out.of the
village, and ottlined conditions as he knew them.

The Pawnees had scouts out,-and it might be they had
detected the advance of the troopers; he rather thought
that was so, as a certain quivering excitement among the
Pawnees indicated something of the kind, and that they
were perhaps preparing for lively 1 hostilities.

“We're ready for.a wild-cat tackle with them - right
now,” said Pawnee; “and if we jump in and deliver the
first blow we'll have them going. You are-here now, and
the girl. is safe.”

“But her father is not, nor Jones.”

Nomad butted in again,.this time suggesting that he
would like nothing better than to crawl into the village,
locate the prisoners, and do his best to protect them from
murderous assaults when the fighting began.

“Mebbyso old Wanderoo will rally out all his warriors;
but ye've got ter take ‘count o’ ther sqtiaws; they're wuss
than ther bucks, ye know, and if they think et is likely
the prisoners is goin’ ter be freed théy’d hack “em inter
giblets. So 1 think ye'd better lemme go’ in.”

“And get hacked to pieces yourself,” said the’ lieutenant.

“Don't ye believe et; anyhow, I’ll take ther resk.”

He was about to wriggle off into the darkness again,
even without consent having been given, and had dropped
to the ground, with ear against it to “ascertain the lay
o the land,” when his keen old ears. caught again the
sounds of footsteps.

“Waugh!” he said, coming up like a jerking automaton.
“Wonder whatever et is that’s comin’ erlong now?”

“Indians?” said the lieutenant.

“Sounds like boot. heels stompin’. holes in the groun’,’
he objected. “No Injun plants his moccasins down like
thet.”

Grasping his knife, he began.to creep forward, Indian
in all his movements, and much lighter than many men

“who were not half his years.

In the darkness all listened, but lost ha so far as hear-
ing and sight were concerned ; but soon they heard a éau-
tion advance: of feet.
_ “Nomad |, is right,”
Indian.”

Standing. beside he girl, he knew that . she began. to
tremble.

“Perhaps it is Aather?” ighe eee aaa, her hope
was not higi.

said the scout; “that is not an

 

 
 

    

“T’m hoping so,’ ” said the scout.

“It may be Jones,” remarked Pawnee Bill.

Out beyond, Nomad’s sibilant whisper broke on the si-
lence like the hiss of a snake.

The dull “clumping” of feet stopped.

“Who is et?” they heard Nomad ask.
man, speak; ef you're red, I’m at ye!’

A moment of tense silence followed.

“Is that a white man?” came the question,

The girl beside the scout took a step forward.

“Ef yere a white

“Father!” she gasped.

“Thet you, Donovan?” demanded the trapper.

“Yes, I’m Donovan, Who speaks?”

“Waugh ! Come on! This hyar is Nick Nomad.”

“Be quiet,” warned the scout, “or the Indians may
hear us.”

The warning, was for Bessie Donovan, who seemed on
the point of running impulsively to her father.

Nomad was talking with Donovan i in whispers, but some
of the words floated “back.

“All het up, er—about yer gal?” said Nomad. “Waal,
ther Red-hot Poker kin cool off on the subjeck, fer she
is right hyar, chipper as a medder lark, an’ han’some as
the Howers o’ spring.”

Denovan lumbered forward, weak and gasping wiih
amazement, Nomad clutching him by the arm.

The next moment Bessie Donovan was in her father’s
arms.

“Sufferin’ cats!’ Nomad grumbled. “This hyar weepin’-
willer bizness, which et is plum’ all right in ets place,
cain’t make any place fer etself right hyar an’ now; Paw-
nees aire out front, and mebbyso all round us; ‘an’. er
Pawnee scout is shore, trained ter hear a cricket chirpin’

a mile off. So ef you've got ter sop up yer handkerchiefs,
Shernone et—postpone ‘et.’

He turned aside with a choked sob; his words were
mere wind, intended solely to hide his own uncontrollable
‘emotions.

To further that end he glided up to the scout, who was
conversing in whispers again with Pawnee and Lieutenant
Sefton.

“Buffler, ef this hyar keeps on I ‘ain’t goin’ ter have
the egstatic pleasure o’ losin’ ie! scalp tryin’ ter pertect
pris ‘ners in thet Pawnee village, ‘cause thar won’t be none
thar. I’m lookin’ now fer Jones mae come hookin’ erlong
out er ther darkness, and follerin’ him ther monkey.”

“We were speaking of Jones.”

“Thet critter shore ain't desarvin’ of nothin’; but he’s
human and white and he’s got ter be looked out fer when
et’s Pawnees ag’inst him.” :

The scout turned about.

“Donovan!” he whispered.

Donovan came uP, accompanied by his daughter... li
the light had been better it would have been “observed,
too, that Bill Brady was not far off.

“Vou’re all right, Donovan!”

“The Red-hot Poker,’ said Donovan, “is some bent, but
he ain’t broken, if that’s what you mean,”
“We has had a terrible time,” whispered the girl.
has My

“Sleepin’ on the ground in wet clothes, and ropes wound
round ye can't be counted feather-bed slumbers,” said
Donovan; “but I’m alive.”

“And Jones is alive? I think you said that to Nomad.”

“Ves: and I want to tell you about that just as quick
as I can. It was a queer thing. You see, Jones was with
me in the same tepee; both of us hog-tied for keeps. I
don’t know how long we was there together, but it was
long enough; and we had tried to help each other and
to get those ropes oft. They were buffalo thongs, soaked;
and, though we slipped ’em, by stretching, so that they
didn’t cut so, the pulling we gave ’em set the knots
tighter.

uy reckon the Pawnees counted on it working that way,
and wasn’t afraid we'd get away; anyhow, they didn't keep
a good guard. Once, when we thought the guard was
gone, we tried to roll out of the tepee, wonderin’ if w
couldn’t get off in that way; but the guard happened right
then to be close at hand and on his job.

“But before that, as I meant to tell. you, that monkey

“Ete

 

  

NEW BUFFALO.

 

  

 

BILL, WEEKLY, 1).

had dipped into the game. He came in, huntin’ for pe
thing to eat, and pulled at the cords on me and took
hitch at them on Jones; but he didn’t stick to his ae
on account of being hungry, I reckon; and right when our
hopes was growin’ along like Jonah’s gourd, old Wan-
deroo showed up and lugged off the monkey.

“It was then that we tried the trick of rolling out of
the tepee and made that failure.

“Well, we didn't know what to do. We talked it over
and over, and that’s where we landed every time. I was
worried to death about Bess; and Jones was scared into
fits, fearing he might have to go back to the witch stone,

W ‘hich they had made him try, We stewed for hours like e
a kettle of fish, and I wonder that I ain’t crazy. ;
Vint by, and by the monkey came back, alone, and it

tackled the cords on Jones. We had figured that Bop
Dalton, who used to own it, had taught it to untie him,
thinkin’ it was'a trick that might be ‘useful to pane some
time; and so it went to work on Jones.

“When it couldn’t untie that-soaked and drawn bufialo
hide, the little beast ate a hole through it, and Jones got
his hands free.

“Then Jonesie sure surprised mé. He took off one of
his shoes, and somewhere in it, between the inner and
outer sole, he found a thin knife blade; and, though it
had no handle, and was about as thick as a sheet of paper,
it made short work of the rest of that buffalo skin.

“He cut himself free, then me the same; and we hit
the tepee entrance. W hen we got out we didn’t see the
guard, though we knew he was there. But pretty soon
we saw him, for the chattering of the monkey had waked
him up, and he came toward us.

“Tones started to run, and that made the Pawnee see
him, so he let drive with a hatchet and chased aftervhim.
Coming by me, that gave me a chance fora side-winder,
and I gave it to him, I’m wondering you didn’t hear that
wallop on the jaw down here.

“When the Pawnee went down and out, I follered
Jones; that is, I thought I follered him, though I reckon
I didn’t. Anyway, I didn’t see him again. And I lost sight
of the monkey, too. It was pretty dark up there, and
Pawnees all round, so I couldn’t call, but kept straight on,
as | thought.

“When I got down near here, and was poking on, feel-
ing my way, | bumped into Nomad; and it was an eye-
opener, for | was no more expectin’ him there than I was
the man in the moon. And then I found the whole crowd
here, and Bess.’

vSo Jones is missin’ erg’in,” said Nomad. “Fer oncer-
tainty thet critter plum’ ekals a Texas flea; put yer finger
on him, an’ he aim‘ thar.”

“Perhaps the Pawnees got him again,” the girl suggested.

“Mebbyso,” said Nomad; “only et wouldn’t be natcheral
fer er Pawnee ter do et and keep still; a Pawnee is like
er dawg—he’s got certain yelps in him, and they has

got ter come out when anything excitin’ like thet wan-
ders his way.

“Still,” said. Seiten, “the ues are excited; we can
hear them ne about, and there has been some yoline’

“Not yellin’ o’ thet kind,’ corrected the trapper. “Yit
I think myself them Pawnees aire shore believin’ thet a
party. o’ white men is round.”

The baron, silent a long time—a very long time for
him—expressed a wish, often repeated by him, that the
fighting should begin.

“Dis oxcidemendt she iss bleasant,” he said; ‘‘budt oof
idt iss nodt going to leadt to somedings, vot iss der use-
fulness?”

“The baron,” said Pawnee, “thinks that life is a failure
if a fifteen minutes’ calm strays his way.”

“Budt Chones,” protested the baron; “ve haf godt to
rescue him, haf ve nodt? Idt iss der pitzness vot hat
prought us here, unt ve are being sheated oudt oof idt;
tor fairst Cody is come, unt ve cand’t rescue him; unt den
Donofan he iss come, unt his daughter she iss come; unt
—so ve Carnot rescue nopoty, unt “Inchun fighdting he iss
Ob der Slate’:

Sut the deubty baron was mistaken.

The fighting was not off the slate.

        
LEO

re ont
Oe ay

NEV

CHAPTER Ry.
BREAKING THE PAWNEES.

Lieutenant Sefton’s pony soldiers had gone round to the
other side of the Pawnee village, the plan being for an
attack to be made from two sides at. once.

Buffalo Bill had his men bunched, ready for business.

Day had broken gray in the east and the lower land,
fiery crowned on the upper slopes; and the new sunshine
was beginning to shine redly on the tepees of buffalo skins
and on the black front of the great witch stone.

Then the charge came.

But Buffalo Bill did not give the order, nor lift his
signal for the troopers’ attack. It came as a surprise;
and doubtless was a surprise to old Wanderoo and the war-
riors who made it, as it certainly was to Buffalo Bill and
the men who stood with him,

The old medicine man had poked down the slope to
the level land below it, looking for the foes he believed
had been hovering round the village through the night;
and his coming had been like the breath of the rosy-
fingered morning for silence; Buffalo Bill, keen-eared, had
not heard it. ‘

There was a bunch of braves backing the old wizard,
and he was armed with the hand-organ machine gun, whose
deadly uses he had discovered and meant to utilize if he
found. his foes.

If he had not been as surprised as the white men, when
he beheld them and they rose up before him, the result
might have been different. Also it might have been dif-
“ferent if the monkey had not taken a hand in the affair.
To be entirely truthful, the monkey took four hands in
the affair, and added to them his teeth.

Discovering his foes in such astonishing proximity, the
Pawnee prophet tried to get into action, and Buffalo Bill’s
force did the same.

But as old Wanderoo turned the queer machine gun on
his foes, thinking to shoot them right out of existence,
the monkey, that had been trailing behind him, considered
by him as a sort of mascot, leaped to his naked shoulders
and began to claw his-hair.

Wanderoo was put down and out instantly; for he
dropped the hand-organ gun after a single shot, and turned
to cast off the monkey that, digging with tooth and nail,
was a creature to be reckoned with.

The discomfiture of the medicine man, with the un-
expected turn given to everything by this interference,
caused the Pawnees to break before the rush of the white
men.

Nomad’s yell rose like a wolf howl, and he tried to get
at the old wizard; but he jammed, instead, into a Pawnee
warrior who threw himself forward to protect the medi-
cine man. i

Then from beyond the village rifles began to crack as
the troopers there went into action, taking, as they did,
ey howl for the signal to begin the attack on their
side.

-_Wanderoo fled, with the monkey still furiously clawing
him; and the Pawnees fled with him, streaming wildly
across the slope.

The queer machine gun, concealed in the big hand organ,
fell into the hands of Buffalo Bill’s party, and was turned
on the fleeing Indians, with scattering shots rained_in the
direction of the tepees.

_ Some of the scared warriors fell, and bedlam broke loose
in the midst of the tepees. :

But a machine gun whose sole supply of ammunition
amounts to only two. boxes of .38’s cannot stay in business
very long; and the gun ceased to hammer almost as soon
as it begany while some of Buffalo Bill’s followers, de-
lighted with its performance, searched in their pockets for
more cartridges of a size to fit its Gatling-gun mechanism.

By the time Buffalo Bill’s men and the pony soldiers
met at the top of the rise that was crowned with the
Pawnee tepees, the Pawnees were out of the tepees and
out of the village. Some were down by Trout Creek,
flinging themselves in and starting to swim it; some had
fled for the pony herd, and were mounting there in wild
haste; others were running eastward and westward and
to ail the other points of the compass.

Before one of the lodges stood an old man, his arms
folded, his face impassive,

BILL WEEKLY.

He drew himself up bravely and proudly as Buffalo Bill’s
“boys” dashed in. }

Some of the trogpers were with Cody’s men, and one of
the pony soldiers threw up a rifle. _

Buffalo Bill knocked it angrily aside. _ :

“Shoot!” said the old man disdainfully, his arms still
folded. “Walking Deer is so old that he can walk no more
—-and he never ran from an enemy, Shoot!”

Behind him, in the big tepee, were other old men, and
a number of old women, huddled and scared, and with
them a number of frightened children.

Buffalo Bill stopped before the defiant old warrior.

“You are a brave man,” said the scout; “and a brave
man, who is not fighting us, and is helpless, is our friend.
We do not: war on a helpless man, nor on women and
children. They may come out in peace, and no harm shall
reach them,” 5

“Vou are Pa-e-has-ka?” said the old man, staring.

He had expected to be shot down, for so he would have
served a foe in his younger days.

“T am Pa-e-has-ka.”’

“Friend of the Indians?”

“Friend of the Indians when they are friendly; their
determined foe when they take to the war trail.”

‘“T have heard of you; you are the sunshine that warms,
as well as the lightning that strikes. I am your prisoner,
and these behind me are your prisoners; do with me and
them as you will.”

Buffalo Bill pointed to the scattered and fleeing Pawnecs.

“Your friends are there, and they will return, when you
can join them; but some of them, if they fight us, may not
return. We seek Wanderoo. He has fled; and now we
shall follow him; it was Wanderoo who broke his word
and brought on this trouble, Tell that to the Pawnee
braves when you see them: again,’

He turned away, and beckoned to the men with him to
do the same.

“Thar goes ther ole thief!” broke from Nomad’s lips.

Old Wanderoo had got out into the sagebrush and was.
footing it toward the mesquite.

Nomad yelped again when some of the pony soldiers
set out in pursuit of the medicine man.

“Off thar, Buffler,” he said, pointing;
thet is.”

The scout saw a figure limping over the slope, off on
the right—a familiar figure.

“That is Archibald Stepson Jones.”

“Comin’ in ter jine us, I take et; with ther fightin’ over,
I reckon he ain’t no longer skeered o’ ther witch stone.”

But Archibald Stepson Jones dropped out of sight again;
apparently, judging by his actions then and later, he wanted
to get away from the Pawnees, but he did not want to
join the white men.

The pursuit of old Wanderoo ended in failure, for the
reason that he was so familiar with the surrounding
country and its hiding places that, though he was crowded
hard by the pony soldiers who ran after him, he could not
be found.

Before they came back from that pursuit, Buffalo Bill
and those who were with him were investigating the mys-
terious witch stone.

‘tell me what

CHAPTER XY.
THE WITCH STONE.

Darkly metallic in appearance stood the witch stone, at
one end of the village.
_ Over it old Wanderoo had erected a big tepee to exclude
it from the vulgar gaze except at such times as he wished
to make an exhibition of its power, which he claimed to
control, and thereby gain influence with his Pawnee fol-
lowers.

A hundred theories concerning it had been propounded.

The subject coming up again, as soon as the fight was
over, Buffalo Bill and his friends, the Donovans, and the
pony soldiers set forth to view it.

“Jones couldn’t explain it,’ said Donovan. “But then
Jones was half dead when they pitched him up there,
and he was unconscious when they took him down after
Cody had yanked at his feet trying to release him. But
the thing he said te me was that he felt as if something

 

 
  

 
     
  
  

 

@ was stickin’ on his back and held him up there; he couldn't
M think of anything else but a big mustard plaster.” iz

“Which does away with the idea that he was hung up
on a hook,’ observed Pawnee.

“Der whole oof idt he vas a schnide,” declared the
baron.
“We are wise to that, baron,” commented Pawnee; “what

 

 

_ we are interested in is the discovery of what kind of

 

 

=e

tC
;

| old Indian friends.”

ff baron;

hide;

i@ snide it is.”

“Yoost a common schnide,” said the baron. ‘You re-

by) memper dot vaterfall vot iss ‘made by him indo a gasoline
h torch.

Idt iss like idt.”
“Which may be illuminating—the gasoline torch was,

) anyhow—but not particularly enlightening.”

When they came in front of the big stone they were

it astounded to discover that it held a human being—a
m Pawnee.
@ tossed up there and left to die.

Having offended old Wanderoo, he had teen

“It is Kicking Bird,” said Pawnee. “He is one of my
“Oof he iss a birdt he tond’t look idt,’ observed the
“budt he iss sure a kicking Inchun yedt alreadty.”

Seeing them, the Pawnee on the rock was thrashing

H about with his ‘feet to attract attention, and now his feeble
@ cries for help arose.

They could see that he was bound with ropes of buffalo
but what it was that held him’ to the rock they
could not discover.

“It is at my back,” he explained in Pawnee.

“Help here, Cody!” said Pawnee Bill.

Hoisted to the broad shoulders of the tall scout, Pawnee

H stood up and drew a knife.

But he felt it twist in his hand, and when he put it

Fup to hack at the buffalo hide it was jerked away and

® work, thet is!”

Mup those knives.
iproblem before him, for he could not get a knife close
Henough to cut the cords and keep it in his hands’
mthe revolvers at his belt jumped when he swung too close
Mito the big rock.

Bknife of

lhe said, passing it up to Pawnee Bill,
‘ think it will be worth more.’

  

(ior talking,
WW anderoo, when he wanted to get the stecl magnet down,

} stuck against the rock.

“Waugh!” gurgled Nomad, astounded. ‘“Whiskizoo

Pawnee pulled at the knife, but it stuck fast and resisted
his efforts.

“Magnetic iron ore,” he shouted. “This stone is mag-

iW netic iron, or iron ore !”

”

“Which solves the great bavareny. commented the scout.
Pawnee Bill drew his second knife; but when he went

B to apply it this was jerked out of his hand by the mag-

netic pull of the magnetized ore as soon as the knife came

i close enough.

“Waugh!” Nomad roared again, hitching back. “I don’t

Wlike the looks of et.”

Pawnee was beginning to wonder how he was to loosen
Also it began to seem that he had a

Even

But Buffalo Bill solved this, and quickly.

He sent Little Cayuse into one of the tepees to get a
flint.

“This is not so sharp as one of your celebrated knives,”
“but right now I

The flint knife had a sawlike edge, and with it Pawnee

cut through the thongs of buffalo: hide.

So Kicking Bird was released.
To get Pawnee’s knives off the rock a lariat had to be
ed to each of them—one at a time—and the combined

pull of several men was required to loosen the hold of the
big magnet; for that was what the great witch stone was.

Kicking Bird, when he had the strength and the mood
informed his old friend Pawnee Bill that

hich now clung to the stone, hitched a rope to it, with

ec pony at the other end, and pulled it off the stone.

Further, old Wanderoo kept this sheet of steel close

py him, and he had used it and the witch stoné to térrify

Mithe friend of Pawnee Bill.

 

mois enemies.

WWanderoo to debate the matter, me

some time before, that he was
And when the war trail was
woted for this last time, he had opposed it, he said, and
had refused to go our with a war party.

He had spoken against it, too, in the

Kicking Bird had shown,

council called by

    

NEW BUFFALO

  

BILL WEEKLY, oA

This and other matters had finally brought him and the
medicine man into. collision.
The final result was that he had been given to the witch

stone; and he would have died there—for the violent
old medicine man was merciless to his foes—if Pawnee Bill
and the other. white men had not invaded the village. For,
though Kicking Bird had friends, none of them had dared
to interfere in his behalf, so greatly did they fear the
power of the medicine man.

Buffalo Bill and the pony soldiers camped in the village,
ready for a fight if the Pawnee warriors returned.

Incidentally, while waiting to see what the Pawnees

would do, they instituted searches along two lines.

They hunted for Archibald Stepson Jones, out in the
hills, and failed to find him.

And they tried to locate the emerald cache, of which
the letter he carried had told, and they failed to do that.

Wanderoo did not come back, and his warriors held
aloof. They could be seen- now and then, but they re-
treated, trying to draw the pony soldiers into ambush.

Time was being wasted.

Lieutenant Sefton decided to return to headquarters,
believing that the-Pawnee war was over.

“T suppose,” said Buffalo Bill, speaking to Denver Don-
ovan, “that you won’t.care to return to your ranch yet,
even if Sefton does think all trouble with the Pawnees is

ended.”

“Me?” said the Red-hot Poker. “Not any; I know’
Indians too well. Me for Pagoda Springs until this cruel
war is over. Bess and I are going to Stay there,’

“Waal,” muttered old Nomad, in an aside, as he glanced
at Bessie Donovan walking across the hill at the moment
with Btady of the gallant Seventh, “give me three guesses
out er thet many, an’ I’ll say every time thet she ain’t goin’
ter stay thar with ye long. 1! ain + no Pawnee prophet, but
leetle Bessie Donovan is a-goin’ ter marry a soger man.’

THE END,

In the next issue “Buffalo Bill’s Merry War: or, Paw-
nee Bill’s Pawnee Pard,”’ will give you just as many hours
of keen excitement as it will take you to read the story.
The Bills and. their pards are greatly helped in the trou-
bles with the Pawnees by the unusual factor of dissen-
sion in the tribe. As politics often make serious trouble
among white men, so the jealousy over the leadership of
the Indian tribe causes friction among the warriors, and
the matter of racial warfare is made a very complex
affair for the red man. No. 280. Out January toth.

A WARRANT WOULDN’T SUFFICE.

A disheveled citizen rushed into the police station and
shouted for vengeance,

“The automobile that hit me was No. 13033,” he sput-
tered. “I can prove that he was exceeding the speed limit,
and I want—I—want c

“You want a warrant for. his arrest?”

“Warrant nothing? What good would a warrant do
me at the rate of speed he was going? I want extradi-
tion papers!”

 

BELIEVES IN PREPAREDNESS.

Mrs. Jenkins had missed Mrs. Brady froin her accus-
tomed haunts, and, hearing several startling rumors con-
cerning her, went in search of her old friend.

“They tell me you're workin’ hard night an’ day, Sarah
Ann, she began.

“Yes,” returned Mrz. Brady, “I’m under bonds to keep
the peace for pullin’ the whiskers out of that old scoundrel
Oba husband oO mine, an’ the magistrate said ii 1 come
afore him ag’ in, or laid me hands on ie “old man, he’d
fine me $10.’

“An’ so ye’re workin’ hard to keep out of mischief?’

“T’m what? Not much! I’m workin’ hard to save up
the ten.”

     
  
 

NEW. BUFFALO

oTHe LAS! OF THE HERD:
Or, A Big Contract Well Filled.

By EDWARD C. TAYLOR.

CHAPTER! I,
BLACK MOUNTAIN RANCH.

“Tle’s got an ugly temper an’ in size he’s rather small—

At hifalutin’ elegance he doesn’t score at all;

But when it comes ter runnin’ he’s the high card in ther
pack,

For I race the winds of mornin’ when I’m on my pony’s
back!”

Bud Morgan finished the verse of the old cowboy song
with a jangling chord on his banjo, and several other lads
lifted their voices and joined lustily in the chorus, which
runs as follows:

“Ride away so ready, oh!

Ride away so steady, oh!
Spirited and heady, oh!

We leave dull care behind.
Leaping and a-dancing, oh!
Through the sun a-prancing, oh!
Out upon the prairie, oh!
Racing with the wind!”

The boys all sang the chorus with a hearty good will and
meant and felt what they sang, for they had all felt the
keen joy of a canter on the back of a spirited cow pony.

The party consisted of our old friend Ted Strong, the
young ranchman, and his band of cowboys. They were
back again at their headquarters, the old Black Mountain
Ranch house.

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, the air crisp, but
the sunlight clear and brilliant as ever. Before them, as
they lounged about on the porch, was spread as beautiful
a landscape as could be found in the whole country. Be-
neath the high tableland, on which the ranch house was
built, stretched a long green expanse of prairie. Farther
away were the black pine forests that clothed the lower
ranges of the mountains, and still farther away were the
airy summits of the mountains themselves, pale blue in
the shadows and golden yellow on the higher-peaks, which
were bathed in the glory of the afternoon sun. As the last
echoes of the stirring chorus died away on the air, the
boys remained silent. Each one felt at that moment strong
within him the bond of unity and trust that held them to-
gether, and none of them cared to speak.

Kit Summers was the first to break the silence.

“Do. you know,” he, said, “that Earl Rossiter has chal-
lenged us all to a series of cowboy sports to-morrow morn-
ime over at Sunset Ranch? :

Bud Morgan let his banjo rattle down on the porch
steps, where he had been sitting, as he leaped to his feet.

“Jumpin’ sandhills!” he cried. “Good fer him! i
he going to contest himself? I know he kin ride a hoss
a leetle, but he won’t cut much of a figger at steer ropin’
an’ some of ther other events.”

“He is going to use his cowboys and vaqueros to repre-
sent the Sunset Ranch,” said Ted, “and he gives us the
privilege of using any hired talent we see fit.”

oa aire we goin’ ter hey hired cowboys ter represent
us?

“Not if I know it,” said Ted Strong.

“We will get beaten then,” said Beanpole, a young cow-
Loy with many ills and a marvelous appetite. “No chance
for us against professionals. They are big, healthy fel-
lows, and you all know how I have been feeling lately.”

“There is always a chance,” chirped Bob Martin.
“While there is life there is always a chance of making
a lucky strike some way or another.”

_ “Why can’t we hire men to engage in these exercises
for.us,” grunted Ben Tremont. “I am tired out. I need
rest. Only ten hours’ sleep last night. I’m exhausted.”

An’ 18)

 

BILL WEEBLY:

“The question is: Are we going to accept this challenge
to a series of cowboy sports?”

“And get beaten’ again the way we did the last time,”
said Beanpole.

‘We were beaten by trickery and foul play, and even at
that, although we were matched against regular cowboys,
we came pretty near holding our own. That was last
spring, when we had not so much experience with ranch
life, and when we were all tenderfeet, more or less. The
Texas trip that we took has done us all good, and I think
we can make a much better showing this time,’ said Kit
Summers.

“Oof id vos an eading condesd, I bade you I vould vin
it,’ said Carl Schwartz sleepily.

“Tn that case it would be a tie between you and Bean-
pole,” said Ted; “but it isn’t an eating contest by any
means. It’s a contest at cowboy sports, and we are going
to stack up against some pretty good men, you can bet
vour life on that. We are not going to have a paid man
to represent us, either. If we go into this contest, we go
in as the young ranch riders, without any outside help.
Are you all in favor of going in for it?”

“T am,” said Bob Martin. “As Shakespeare says: ‘Lay
on, MacDuff, and he who’s beaten is a great big stuff,’”

“Jumpin’ sandhills!” said Bud Morgan. “Count me in,
too, Ye'll need me when it comes ter ther steer ropin’,
pards.” ;

“T am in idd vih both mine feet,” said Carl.

“That’s what you get into everything with,” said Bob.
“As Shakespeare says: ‘You never open your mouth but
you put your foot in it.”

“Look ouid mit yourselluf,” said Carl. ‘‘Don’d get gay
mit yourselluf. I might ged mad mit mineselluf unt der
yould pe a fight.”

“lm awfully afraid of you,” said Bob.
says: ‘I am shaking in my shoes.’ ”

“Yaw,” said Carl,.“you dink you can make a fool mit
me. All righd. Maype you don’d make me as big a fool
as L am alretty yet."

“l couldn't,” said Bob. “I couldn't if F tried:, As Shake-
speare asks: ‘Is it better to be a bigger fool than you
look, or to look a bigger fool than you are?’”

“Stop that kind of talk,” said Beanpole; “you make me
nervous. As for.the contest, | suppose that 1 am in favor
of it... We might as well die at one time as at another.”

“No use asking Ben, I guess,” said Ted. “But we will
consider that he has agreed to our proposition.”

“That's right,’ said Ben; “don’t mind me in the least.
I dont count.”

“Then it’s decided on,” said Ted, “and you must all re-
member that you have your work cut out for you to-
morrow. We have an easy time of it just now, while
changes are being made down at the mine, and we have
been getting lazy. I propose that we all mount and go for
a ride this afternoon, just to put us in condition for a
good dinner and a good sound sleep to-night. Then we
will all be brisk and ready to-morrow morning for the
work that is cut out for us.”

Beanpole and Ben Tremont arose to protest at this
plan, but there was such a rush for the closed-in paddock
near the ranch house where the cow ponies were put to
graze, and such a cheer at the prospect of a rousing good
canter through the mountain roads near by, ihat they de-
cided that there was no usé*talking, and joined in the
rush themselves.

“Here, there!” cried Ted. “I detail Beanpole and Carl
and Bob to get saddies and bridles from the stables. The
others are to corral the horses.”

‘Phet's ther way,’ said: Bud Morgan, ‘Let’s do it all
shipshape, accordin’ ter ther command of the capting, so’s
we kin show them other fellers what’s what ter-morrer.”

voacdic Vol” ‘said Ted:

The saddlery had been brought out by this time, and
each boy stood, saddle in hand, by the side of his pony. At
the word of command the saddles were slapped on the
backs of the horses, the blankets having been folded un-
derneath, and the cinch straps were drawn tight and firm.
In ancther moment the bridles had been adjusted.

ae Ted had saddled his pony by

“As Shakespeare

Prepare to’ mount!”
this time, and at the command every boy stood by the side
of his horse, holding the mane in one hand and the pommel
of the saddie,and*the bridle in the other.

 

 

 
 

NEW, BUFFALO

Mount!”
There was a sound like the crack‘of a whip as seven
legs swung over the saddles and seven feet slapped down

 

said Ted, as they cantered away.
“road tao often for any novelty.

into the stirrups on the other side.. A moment later the
young cowboys, in column of two, were cantering away
‘across the prairie.

~ “We'll not take the road that leads down to Crook City,”

“We've been over that
1 But there are passes. up
through the hills here, and I think we ought to strike up
into them and see what it’s like up there.”

“Great country,’ said Bud, “but we'll have to pull down
to a trot when we get there. Some of the roads is pretty
narrer.

“Then we. can let out and, have a good brush for it
when we are down here on the plain,” said Kit, ‘‘Let’s
have a race. Are you all ready?”

“Ted Strong pulled up his horse a little and. allowed
the boys behind to come up. Those in the rear spurred

“forward, quartering off to the right at the same time, and

within a minute the whole body of the young riders was
strung out across the prairie in single line. A crack
cavalry squad could not have performed the evolution
in a smarter manner,

“Hooray!” cried Bud Morgan ..
lingtary evolutions!
’em all holler.”

“Ready for the start?” queried Kit Summers, reining
in his horse and looking forward eagerly.

“I’m ready,” said Ted.

“They are all ready,’ said Bud. “Ted, you give the
word.” ;

Ted pulled out his weapon.

“Start when I fire,” he said. “It’s go as you please
across country. The man that reaches the timber belt
over there first wins. You can jump anything in the
way or ride around it, just as you please. Start from the
standstill. Pull your horses up, every one. of you, and
when I fire, start!”

Every boy leaned forward eagerly and checked in his
horse. For a moment the line held back, swaying slightly
forward in the. middle, where the horse of Kit Summers

“Talk about yer mil-
Ther young roughriders kin knock

-was edging a little forward. Then Ted’s revolver cracked

and they were off with a great shout, amid a scramble of
sharp-shod hoofs and a cloud of dust.

It was a cross-country race of the roughest description,
and when the young riders first struck Crook City very
few of them would have attempted anything of the kind
without some misgivings as to the probable result of the
race. Eight months in the saddle had made all of: them
accomplished horsemen. Bob Martin, who had joined later
than any of the others, had made such good progress
with the riding that he was really a very fine horseman
now, and, on account of his light weight and unlimited
nerve, would have made a capital jockey. Beanpole, who
formerly had many runaways, was now well able to hold
in his horse and make it do whatever he wanted; and
Carl Schwartz, although he looked as if he would tumble
off his horse at any moment, held on with surprising skill
for one so fat and sleepy looking.

Away they went in a bunch across the hard turf of the
prairie, They came to.a dry ditch which ran diagonally
across the prairie for a considerable distance. Where the
bunch struck it, it was deep and broad, and its sides were
steep. By that time the riders had begun to string out
a little. Ben Tremont, who was the heaviest in the party,
was dropping behind. Handicapped with his weight of
bone and muscle, his horse could not keep up with the
others. Bob Martin, on the other hand, had taken the lead,
and next to him came Beanpole. Behind Beanpole came
Kit Summers, who was urging his animal forward for all
he was.worth; and behind Beanpole came. Carl Schwartz
and Bud Morgan. Bud Morgan was. riding easily, far
back in the saddle, and swaying gently, as cowboys ride,
making no éffort either to check or hasten the progress of
his horse. Ted himself was next to the last, but he was
hearing in hard on his reins, and his animal had not
been permitted to let itself out in the least.

It was in this fashion that they struck the dry ditch.
Bob. Martin went. over it like a bird, without a stop in
his pace. Beanpole’s horse shied, but.the thin boy had
presence of mind to turn it over to the right, where it

  

  

93

se)

BILL WEERLY.

could go down one side and up the other—a thing impos-
sole directly ahead, on account of the steepness of the
anks.

Kit put his horse to the leap and sailed over. Carl tried
to jump his horse, but it took off badly and fell short. Boy
and horse rolled over in the dust; but Ted, riding behind,
could see Carl scrambling to his hands and knees and
crawling out of the way, and knew that he was not
injured.

“Never mind about him,’ yelled Ben Tremont from
behind. “I’m not in it with the rest of you in this crazy
race and I'll look after Carl.’

Bud Morgan’s horse took the leap, and after him went
Ted. Then it was a straight race, with not an obstacle
in the path from there to the belt of timber that marked
the beginning of the hill country. Ted was not mounted
on his best horse—Black Bess. He was saving, that for
the sports the following day; but the bay horse he rode
now was speedy and had plenty of bottom. Beanpole had
been left so far behind by his detour to avoid the jump
that he was practically out of the race. Bob Martin -was
far ahead, riding away like a madman; and Kit, Ted, and
Bud. were pretty well bunched. sas

Presently Ted let out his horse a little and closed .up
with Bud. Bud slapped the side of. his animal with his
quirt, yelled wildly, and drew ahead a little. Kit hunched
himself forward in the saddle and caught up to Bud. All
three went neck and neck for a furlong. Then Bud began
to drop behind, and presently was out of it, riding sey-
eral yards in the rear, but still urging his pony along for
all there was in it.

Ted looked up and could see that he was gaining on
Bob Martin. Closer and closer he came, and Kit came
close beside him. The belt of timber was only a little dis-
tance off now, and, Ted could see a narrow opening in it,
the bridle path or narrow trail that led through the timber
and up into the hills.

Bob Martin looked back and saw the other two boys
coming thundering after him. That glance back cost him
the advantage he had gained, for his horse stumbied and
nearly threw him out of the saddle.

Bob only saved himself and his steed from an ugly
tumble by magnificent horsemanship. He managed to
retain his own seat and to pull the horse back on its
haunches, and so keep it from tumbling forward; but in
doing so he lost considerable time, and Ted and Kit gal-
loped up on either side of him.

It was seldom that little Bob showed much excitement
of any kind, but his blood was up now.

“Come on!” he yelled. ‘The race isn’t over yet. Let’s
go right ahead and see which pulls out first as we strike
the rise in the trail,”

This was yelled above the roar and clatter of hoofs
and the panting of the steeds! There was no time for
either of the others to answer or check their horses.
Before they could have spoken another word they were
in among the timber, racing along the narrow road, up-
hill a little now and still all abreast. They rounded a
big turn and swept up a steep slope. All three horses
were beginning to show distress now, and Ted was about
to call a halt after the next turn to avoid injuring the
animals.

Above the roar of their own steeds he could distin-
euish a jingling sound coming down the trail ahead of
them. His horse had the bit between his teeth and pulled
a little ahead of the other two. Kit and Bob had pushed
their horses too hard at the beginning of the race, and
the animals showed the effects of it now.

Another turn in the path showed ahead of them. Ted’s
pony whirled around it on one hoof. Then it was dragged
suddenly back on its haunches, with all the weight of
the young rider’s body, just as his two companions came
spinning around and nearly fell over him.

Just in front of him, filling up the whole roadway, was
a big tallyho coach, with a team of four horses, and a
group of young people on the roof. The young man who
was up on the high box seat driving the team was evidently
frightened at this sudden apparition of three khaki-clad
figures charging furiously around the bend. His horses

were frightened, too, for the leaders reared up on their
hind legs and pawed the air wildly, while a chorus of
 

24 NEW BUFFALO

screams and yells of fear came from the roof of the
coach.

‘The young man who was driving kept his nerve pretty
well. He was a square-jawed young fellow, with a hard
but capable face, and with dark, searching eyes. His jaw

was squarer than usual at present, and his lips were tightly
-compressed while he pulled in on the reins, bracing hard

against the dashboard with his feet.

For a moment it looked as if the horses might get the
best of him and run away, for they had been given a
thorough scare by the sudden appearance of the three
roughriders.

It was only for a moment, however. As soon as his
own horse had recovered his equilibrium, Ted Strong
sputred forward a little, stood up in his stirrups, and
grasped the bridle of one of the leaders which was rearing
up directly over his head.

_ There were more screams from the top of the coach,
for it looked for a moment as if the rearing horse would
fall upon Ted and crush him. Then it came down on all
fours again and stood still and trembling. Ted spoke to
the other leader, and it quieted down as if by magic.
There was something .in the quiet manner of the young
rider, something in the deep tones of his voice, that the
frightened animals seemed to recognize and trust.

A minute later the team of horses was restored to quiet
and was standing as still and peaceable as could be imag-
ined. The square-jawed young fellow upon the box seat
threw the reins down with a sigh of relief and started to
climb down.

Reaching the ground, he stepped-forward with his hand
extended toward Ted Strong.

“Tf I am not mistaken,” he said, “you are Mr. Ted
Strong, the leader of the young range riders. [ am glad
to know you, and want to thank you for helping me with
those leaders. They looked for a minute or two as if
they: were going to get quite nasty.”

“T think that I owe you an apology for coming around
here ‘at such a rate and scaring your. horses as I did.”
said Ted. ‘You see, these roads are very little used, and
yours is the first vehicle I ever saw on them. I thought
that they were quite deserted, or I would néver have been
so reckless. We were having a race.”

The square-jawed young man laughed pleasantly, show-
ing a fine set of teeth. i

“Tye heard a lot about you fellows,’ he said, “and I
would like to introduce myself and party to you. We are
going to be neighbors of yours for a little while, anyway.
We have hired the Sunset Ranch for the fall season.”

“What about Earl Rossiter?’ asked Ted in amazement.

“He is leaving this part of the country for the East in
a week or so,” said the new tenant of the Sunset Ranch.
“T believe we are to meet. the young range riders over
there to-morrow. My name is Black—Tom Black. Let
me introduce you to some of the girls here, who are just
crazy to meet you.”

CHAPTER IL.
ROSALIE WINTERS.

Ted. glanced up ioward the roof of the coach. Two
other young men were seated on the top of the drag, also
a middle-aged lady who resembled Tom Black a great deal,
and two girls. One of these girls riveted Ted’s eyes for an
instant. She had coal-black hair, and eyes of such a dark
brown that they resembled black. Her cheeks were round
and fuil and flushed duskily, her lips were a deep scarlet,
and her chin pointed. She was looking down at Ted with
a half smile in her eyes and with her lips slightly opened.
Ted looked in her eyes a moment and then turned away.
There was something in the gaze of those dark, smiling
eyes that attracted and at the same time repelled him. He
glanced at the other girl and saw that, although she was
good looking, she lacked the dash and presence of her
dark-haired companion.

“This is my mother,” said Tom Black, indicating the
middle-aged woman, who bowed; “and this is Miss Rosalie
Winters, a friend of my sister’s, and this is my sister.
These two fellows are Sam Reading and Will Payne,.col-
lege chums of mine. I have just finished up at Harvard,
and have come out here to see something of the West.

_ We have hired the Sunset Ranch from Rossiter, and we

ible after dark. ~ oy eee

 

BILL WEEKLY.

are having a sort of house party out there this fall. We
hope we'll see a lot.of the young range riders.”

Ted bowed to each in turn as they were introduced.
He again felt a queer feeling shoot through him as he
encountered the eyes of the dark-haired girl, Rosalie Win-
ters. She spoke to him in a low, sweet voice that he had
to strain his ears to catch. :

Ted next introduced Bob and Kit. :

Kit, dashing and handsome, made an impression on
everybody there, but these newcomers seemed a littic
doubtful as to how to take Bob Martin.

“Glad to see you all,” said Bob, with a duck and a grin.
“We have just been having a little race. I should have
won, only my horse wasn’t quite quick enough. As Shake-
speare says: ‘The race isn’t always to the swift, nor the
battle to the strong; but it’s the speediest horse that gen-
erally gets my money.’ ” ; : :

The party in the drag were still wondering which one
of Shakespeare’s plays this quotation had been taken from
when the rest of the cowboys came around the turn in
a body.

_ They were introduced one after another, and then Tom
Black climbed back to the seat of-the drag and began to
gather up the reins.

“Tam glad IT met you fellows,” he said. “I am -not
quite sure of my way back to the Sunset Ranch house,
and I suppose that these roads are not the safest in the
world after dark,”

“T'll guide you right there,” said Ted. t’s about time
we. turned back that way. We were just out taking a
little afternoon ride to keep in condition for the cowboy
sports to-morrow, and we thought we would have a little
brush by the way.”

“You came around that bend pretty fast,” said Black.

“That’s a nice rig you have,” said Ted.

Had) at-sent ‘on from) (Chicaso “said. dom.) tam
awfully fond of driving. I thought it would be the ideal
thing for us all to take drives in out: here, to see the
country, don’t you know.”

“It’s a fine rig, all right,” said Ted, “and a good whip
can drive it along these roads all right. But you'll strike
some stretches of country where there are no roads at
all, and where even the Western buckboards that they
use out here are liable to pull apart with the bumping
and jostling they receive.”

“Do I keep right on?” asked Black. “It’s getting dark
and the girls ought to be back at Sunset Ranch. We
told Rossiter, who is staying with us for a few weeks
before he goes East, that we would be back before din-
ner. We planned to have a little dance to-night. I hope
that you and your friends can come over.”

“Yes, please come,” said Miss Winters, fixing her eyes
on Ted.

“I don’t believe we can come,” said Ted. “We have a
certain amount of ranch business to attend to, although
a great deal of our cattle has been sold and delivered;
and, besides that, we want to turn in early to be in good
trim to-morrow. Steer throwing and shooting require
steady nerves.” ;

“My nerves are all in a frazzle,” remarked Beanpole.
“T need some quinine.”

“You don’t mean to say that you boys are going into
those contests yourselves!” said Mrs. B ack. “I thought
that they were to be between the cowboys and vaqueros.”’

“T believe that cowboys and vaqueros: are going to rep-
resent Sunset Ranch,” said Ted; “but we are going to rep-
resent ourselves.”

“I think you'll be beaten,” said Rosalie Winters, smiling
at Ted:

“We may be,” said Ted, “but we will do our best. It’s
the young range riders against the Sunset Ranch outfit,
and may the best men win.”

“That's the stuff!” said Black. “And from what |
have seen of you I think you have a good chance. I tell
you when I was in college I saw amateurs pitted against
professionals a good many times, and there were some
men that could have won out over all the professionals,
only they didn’t want to go in for that sort of thing as a

oT
i

\ business.”

at piadn't we better start now?” said Mrs. Black anxiously.
It's getting dark, and these roads must be something ter-
   

  

NEW BUFFALO

“We will escort. you down to within half a mile of
Sunset. Ranch,”. said .Ted. :

_ “Sure, mum,” said Bud, brushing back his long yellow
hair, “we'll look arter yer all right. Jumpin’ sandhills!
We will simply eat up anything thet comes in ther way.”

Bud Morgan and Carl Schwartz rode ahead of the coach
as a sort of an advance guard, and the other boys fell in
on either side or behind. Tom Black cracked his whip,
and the drag started off down the rocky trail.

Rosalie Winters edged closer to Mrs. Black, beside
whom she sat, and drew her silken skirts close about her,
making room on the seat for another person. She looked
down at Ted Strong, who was riding close to the wheel.

“Some of you boys must be tired after your long ride,”
said she. “There is-room up here, and 1 think it would
be a nice change for you. You could let your horses
run behind.”

“Your horse is a little lame, Strong,” said Black, glanc-
ing down at it. “It must have picked up a stone or some-
thing coming up. Your weight is bad for it, going down
this grade.
One of the other fellows can lead it by the bridle.”

Ted’s horse was lame. He noticed it limping heavily
as it went down the steep path, and he knew that he was
injuring it by riding it.

He looked up and saw Rosalie Winters’ eyes beaming
an invitation to him.

“Come,” she said; “you'll be-better off up here beside
me.”

“I guess I will,” said he. “This poor horse doesn’t like
walking a bit now, and the less work it gets the better.
I'll be much obliged for a lift till we get down to level
ground again, anyway.”

Tom Black pulled his horses to a standstill, and Ted,
slipping out of the saddle, put one. foot on the wheel and
swung up on the drag. Kit Summers took the rein of his
horse.

“Here’s a seat,’ said Rosalie Winters, and before Ted
knew it he was sitting beside her and the big drag was
whirling on again. It was getting dark rapidly, but a
mellow glow shone about the top of the coach and-gilded
the. summits of the distant hills to a bright golden hue.
The autumn air was crisp and intoxicating, like wine, and
whatever chilliness there was in it was pleasant rather than
otherwise. ‘

Miss Winters swished her skirts about-her and gave a
little shiver.

“Isn't it nice to be up here?” she said, looking Ted full
in the face and leaning over toward him a little. He
noticed some strange perfume that seemed to radiate
from her hair, stealing into his nostrils, and when he
looked into her eyes he felt a sort of pleasant dizziness
as though he were looking down from some great height.

“lve heard about you so much,” the girl continued.
“T’ve been hoping to meet you for a long time. J have
heard so much about you that I feel as if I knew you
quite well. You know I can tell right away, when I meet
a person, if I am going to dislike him or like hjm. I be-
lieve in first impressions, don’t you?” :

“Sometimes,” said Ted gravely, looking down at the
landscape that was spread out before them as they rolled
along. “You can’t always go by first impressions, though.”

“Perhaps it’s different with you. You are strong and
cool-headed and firm-willed. But it’s different with girls.
They are accustomed to go by their feelings.”

“People should not be guided too much by their feel-
ings,” said Ted, “especially in the matter of first impres-
sions, which experience often shows to be wrong impres-
sions. You might be attracted by a person through some
outward thing on the surface and find out later that you
had made a mistake. People shouldn’t always yield to feel-
ings of that sort.”

“Suppose the feelings are so strong that they cannot
help it”

The drag turned a bend at this point and tilted up a
little on one side. Rosalie Winters was thrown a little
to one side over toward Ted, and as she uttered her last
words her face was very close to his, her head almost
resting on his shoulder. As Ted looked, down tor a sec-
ond into the depths of her eyes, he saw sdéimething that

I think you had better come up on the coach.

- outside,

 

aon
aed

BILL WEEKLY.
made him shudder—that attracted him, invited and re-
pelled him, all at once. In a moment the drag had righted
itself and Miss Winters was sitting upright again; but
Ted felt that the look the girl had given him had told
more. than was suggested in her words. Miss, Winters
was adjusting her hat with one slim hand, her eyes fixed
on the ground and her face half shielded by the heavy
coils of her dusky hair. Ted could just see the curve of
her cheek, her pointed chin, the tip of her nose.

Her cheeks had flushed to a dark red now, and she
kept her eyes sedulously away from those of the young
man.

When she spoke again, it was in a quiet, reserved tone
and on general topics. Ted talked to her for the rest of
the ride and found her unusually intelligent and witty.
When he left the drag and bid the merry party good
night, to ride off with his comrades, he found the girl’s
eyes looking again into his, and was conscious of the same
thrill that he had felt when he met them before. That
night he dreamed of a dark girl with eyes that seemed to.
pierce him through and through and hold him prisoner.

CHAPTER III.
AT SUNSET RANCH.

Earl Rossiter was seated in one of the smaller rooms
on the ground floor of the Sunset Ranch house, which
he had lately let out to Tom Black and his party of friends.
It was a room which he called his sitting room, furnished
with easy, comfortable chairs, a long oak table, and a lamp
with a red shade which sent a mellow, rosy light over the
room.

Through the open door floated the sound of merry
voices and laughter, the measured rhythm of slippered
feet, the soft tinkle of banjo and guitar. Tom Black and
his friends were having a dance in the big room at the
front of the house; but Earl Rossiter, although he was
fond of dancing and of the society of the opposite sex,
was taking no part in it. He looked unusually well to-
night. His dark, handsome face was flushed and his eyes
were flashing. He was dressed in white flannel and held
a cigarette between his first and sécond fingers of his right
hand, leaning idly back in his chair and watching the
spirals of smoke ascend from the lit end of it. Since he
had gotten rid of Hendricks, a criminal with whom he had
planned to burn Ted Strong’s stamp mill, a great worry
had been lifted from his mind. The appearance of the
young people from the East had given him excitement and
something to think about. He had stopped drinking al-
together for a while, and his naturally good constitution _
had asserted itself and wrought a decided change for
the better in his appearance. His face was no more lined
and haggard, but fresh and youthful, and in the soft, red
light that now shone upon it he looked very handsome.

This was just as Earl Rossiter had intended. He was
waiting for some one, and he had every confidence that
the some one would appear within a very few minutes.
Presently there came.a soft rustle of skirts in the hallway
Earl lifted his eyes from the contemplation of
his cigarette and saw Rosalie Winters standing in the
doorway. ;

“Hello!” he said. “Decided to come around here and -
have a talk with me?”

The girl nodded and looked with bright and admiring
eyes at the figure of the boy who stood before her. She
felt that never in her life had she seen any one so dash-
ing’ or so handsome, and she stepped noiselessly into the
room and sank down into the chair that Earl offered to
her.

“Well,” said Earl, “you saw him to-day, didn’t you?”

The girl nodded, With Ted Strong she had been ver
talkative; with Rossiter she, was strangely silent.

“What do you think of him?”

“T don’t know,’ said Rosalie. “I think he is rather -
nice looking, but he’s sort of stupid. He’s sort of slow,
I think.” j

“Do. you think you can manage him?’ asked. Earl.
“That's what I want to know. Do you think that you
can get around him and, get him to tell you whereabouts
 

i=

26 NEW. BUFFALO

in that ranch hotse he keeps the title deeds to that mine
of his. That is what we want. If we get that, we get
the mine; and if we get the mine you get money enough
to pay all those debts for dresses and theater parties and
flowers and so forth. You are shy about two thousand
dollars. Pretty extravagant expenditures for a young girl
of your age.”

“T simply can't let those bills go in to my mother,” said
Rosalie, her jaw squaring a little and her small teeth
showing between her red lips. .““When I was in New
York with old Madam Brown, my governess, I deter-
mined to have a good time. I guess mamma wanted me
to live on bread and butter and go about dressed like a
freak, but I could run up bills, and I did it. The money
was spent so fast it surprised me. If those bills should
ever get to my mother she would send me to a convent
tight away. She was brought up in a convent herself, and
thinks that girls should have less freedom nowadays.
I'd never go to a convent. I’d run away first.”

“You wouldn't run far,’ said Earl, “But there is no
necessity for that. You find out from Ted Strong where
he keeps that box with all his papers in it. You can
pretend to be interested in the law and things like that to
get him to let you look at them. You can work him, all
right, if you pretend you are awfully smitten with him.
Just let him think that you are mashed on him, and you
can do anything you please.’

A’ demure smile showed itseli on the
Winters.

“T think I can manage it,’ she said quietly.

Rossiter looked at her for a moment with an expression
of admiration in his face.

- “You are awfully pretty,’ he said: “You have won-
derful eyes. 1 think sometimes, though, that I can see
the devil at the bottom of them. When you make up your
mind to do a thing vou will do it.. That’s the kind of a
woman I like. “You look pretty, but underneath you are
as cold-as ice and as cruel as sin.”

--He stepped toward her. She had also risen, and he tried
to slip his arm around her waist. She eluded him, how-
ever, looked into his face, and laughed.

“Keep away,” she said. “You mustn't act that way.’

Rossiter looked into her laughing eyes and felt all the
blood rush to his head. He stepped toward her again,
and again she eluded him, running around the corner of
the ‘table.

- “Mr. Rossiter,” she said, “just keep to your own side of
the table and let me keep to mine. There is a sort of
agreement between us, isnt’ there?’

“Ves: so why can’t you be friendly?”

“Just a minute. We are pretty good friends, are we
not?”

“Ves, and you run away from me. I believe, by Jove,
you just do it to tantalize me.”
at { AT GL has et ih See if

Suppose I do. We are friends just as two men are
friends—-we each have somethine to gain by the friend-
ship. You have the mine to gain; I have the money to
gain to. pay my bills. We are working together, but each
one for his or her own interests. So let’s act that way
and be: sensible.”

“T believe you are the most cold-blooded girl I ever saw.”

“IT may be. That doesn’t make any difference to you.”

Earl looked at her for a moment longer, hesitating
whether to pursue her further or not. For a moment they
battled with their eyes, and the eyes of the girl con-
quered. Whatever may have been her faults, weakness
of mind or will was not among them. Earl sat down in
his chair again and took a long pull at his cigarette.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose you are the boss just at
present. But how did you make out with darling little
Teddie to-day?
suppose he gave you a lecture.”

“He did give me a lecture,” said Rosalie, with a soft
laugh—‘“about yielding to my feelings. He thinks I am
smitten with him. I asked him tp come up and sit beside
me, and he did. He pretended that hi@ horse was lame
and that he could not ride it. any fatther. So when |
looked at him he climbed right up as though I had mes-

merized him.”
‘By Jove! said. Earl,

face of Miss

“T believe that you can. mes-

He’s such a nice Sunday-school boy. I .

 

BILL WEEKLY. |

merize people. There is something about your eyes that
scares a fellow.”

“ve been told that I have mesmeric powers,” said the
girl; “but I notice that there are lots of people that I
cannot use it with, although there are others that I can
twist around my finger. Old Madam Brown, my goy-
erness, for instance. All I had to do with her was to look
at her real hard and she seemed to be a creature of my
will. It was different with mamma. She has a stronger
will than I have, or one just as strong, anyway. If I had
been able to make her do what I wanted I wouldn’t be
worrying about this money now.” ates

“And you think that you can bend Ted Strong to suit
your will?’

“No, I don’t think that. I wanted him to come up beside
me to-day and he came. But it was because he wanted
to himself. He has a very strong will. I think I can get
him to show me those papers, but I couldn’t do it if he
didn’t want to. Once he makes up his mind, there is no
shaking him.” .

“Pooh! said Earl. “He’s a sissy sort of a fellow. But-
ter wouldn't melt in his mouth.”

“T don’t know about that. He’s strong enough, if that’s
what you mean, and for all he’s so modest and quiet he'd
be a pretty tough customer if you got him roused.”

“Well,” said Earl, “you get hold of those papers, and
it’s all right. I have started a suit against Ted Strong
for those mines. If I had those papers in my possession
1 could raise enough money on the strength of them to
put us both on Easy Street. You get me those papers, and
ri He

“Hush!” interrupted Rosalie. ‘Here comes some one.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Tom Black ap-
peared at the doorway. By this time Rosalie had risen
to her feet. wie

“Hello, Tom!” she said coolly. “Have you seen my
handkerchief anywhere around? 1 thought that I left
it in here, but I can’t see it anywhere.” !

“T was wondering where you had gone,” said Black.

“Well,” said Rosalie, “I must get back to the others. I
suppose you boys are going to stay here and smoke.’ She
left the room.

“Pretty girl,” said Black. “My sister has known her for
a long time, But somehow there is something about her
1 don’t like. She’s a dreadful flirt, and has a spice of
the devil in her.’

“That is the kind I like,” said Rossiter.
rette.”

Black picked a cigarette out of the proffered case, lit
it, and sat down opposite Earl.

“T met Ted Strong and his. young range riders to-day,”
said he. “They seem to be a pretty likely looking lot.
They say that they are not going to have any paid men
in those wild-West sports to-morrow, but that they are
going to represent themselves.”

“They are, eh?” said Rossiter. “That is because they
are going to get beaten, anyway. I know that I have the
best rope throwers and shots and riders in the country
on my ranch. I’ve got it all cinched. I’m willing to back
them with every cent I have.”

“T think you are going to get beaten,” said Black. “I’ve
seen fellows like Strong when I was at college. I know
the type. They don’t say much in the way of boasting,
but they are there with the goods.”

Rossiter looked shyly at Black. He felt perfectly sure
of winning the contest the next day, and the thought struck
him that he might induce Black to bet with him on the
result. Black had plenty of money and spent it freely.
Although a pretty good fellow, in the main, he had the
reputation of being somewhat of a sport, ready to gamble.
at all times.

Rossiter threw back his head and laughed in his most
superior manner. This was done purposely, with the inten-
tion of irritating Black and inducing him in that fashion
to bet heavily. ot

“Why, my dear boy!” he said. “You amuse me. You
can’t judge things out here by the standards that you
applied at college. It’s a different thing here. You don't
know what you are talking about.”

 

“Have a ciga-

ae 7S TO BE CONTINUED. |
LS)
=}

THE NEWS OF THE WORLD.

 

Tanks Over the Top.

“Could the boche but have seen a snaky line nearly
a mile long, composed of tanks following each other
up to the jumping-off point,” said a tank commander
recently, telling of his experiences at the front, “he
would have brought all his artillery on us in no time.
Thank Heaven, it was a pitch-black night.

“With my watch in my hand and my heart racing
away like mad, I sat waiting. The extreme battery, a
9.2 battery, on the right of the sector, crashed out with
an awful roar, and then the extreme left+9.2 followed
suit. Our barrage had begun.

“There was about five seconds’ pause, then an ear-
splitting row. The boche trenches looked like a fur-
nace. The whole place was as light as day. Thou-
sands of machine guns were rattling from our
trenches, flame throwers and boiling oil were racing
for the boches. The din was awful.

“From the boche lines frantic S O S signals went
up, but no German guns replied.

“As I sat, I saw our infantry advance with their.
“ifles at the trail at a steady march across No Man’s
Land. Then I crawled into my tank, got on my seat,
and waited for our moving-off time.

(Come barrage, that, yelled: the “driver. to (me.
‘Never seen such a glorious sight in all my natural.’

“The tank, grunting and skidding, crawled out of the
shell holes at a snail’s pace, and then went forward
easily over the rough ground. We crossed the British
front line a few minutes afterward and plunged over
No Man’s Land through shell hole after shell hole.

“A dozen or more prisoners slunk past us in the
charge of a wounded Tommy, who waved his hand
to us.

“Through my periscope I could see ‘tanks on either
flank and behind me. There was nothing for us to fire
at. The boche seemed to have disappeared altogether.
What were once trenches were now just ugly-looking
ditches with ‘pill boxes’ (concrete gun emplacements)
here and there. Most of these “pill boxes’ were shat-
tered or lying on their side.

“The barrage was slowly halting, but was just as
fierce as ever. The first objective had been reached,
and the barrage was a protective one.

“T heard a tremendous explosion to my right front,
and saw a column of earth shoot up. More columns
arose everywhere—the Germans had started a counter
barrage. On we went. Groups of prisoners, among
whom were many Red Cross men, were coming back,
carrying and helping. both British and German
wounded. :

“We arrived at our second objective as our infantry
were consolidating, and the barrage kept up just in
front. As it lifted, a company went forward and were
almost immediately held up by heavy machine-gun fire
from a ruin which had once been an estaminet.

“This was where we came into play; and, charging,
forward with an exultant mob of Tmnwes on either

we

side and behind us, we took that emplacement fair
and square. I must say that those boche gunners died
like heroes. They kept on firing at the front of the
bus until the tank rose over the stone wall and
plumped down on them.”

Government Allows Old Claim.

Mrs. Z. M. Horton, John Hicks, Gertrude and Annie
Simpson, heirs of Thomas I. Hicks, all of Mountain
Home, Arkansas, received a treasury wafrant a short
time ago for three hundred and sixty-one dollars and
fifty-eight cents for money due Thomas I. Hicks at
the beginning of the Civil War. He had the mail
contract between Middleburg and Bolivar, Tenn.

Immediately after the war Hicks joined the Home
Guards at Middleburg. After the war he came to
the Arkansas Ozarks. For years after the war he
endeavored to collect the amount due him from the
government, but died before it was paid.

Mrs. Z. M. Horton, one of his children, remembered
the account, and a few years ago the documents were
turned over to Congressman Tillman of this district,

who got a special bill through Congress which made

the allowance. In the same bill were claims of a
similar nature amounting to two hundred and ten
thousand dollars.

Disloyal Village Given Lesson.

Indignant at open expression of pro-German senti-
ment at Aspinwall, a village in Iowa, more than sev-
enty-five citizens of Manilla, lowa, invaded the village,
closed all its stores, procured the arrest of John Brus,
who refused to permit the use of his hall for a patri-
otic meeting, and turned over to the Federal authori-
ties the names of other persons whose loyalty was
questioned. .

It had been told in: Manilla recently that residents
of Aspinwall were given to laughing scornfully when
approached by Liberty Bond salesmen; and, though
Manilla itself is populated largely by expatriated Ger-
mans, Mayor Roscoe Saunders organized a flying
squadron of bankers and business men, put them in
fifteen automobiles, and set out to see that Aspinwall’s
brand of patriotism was changed.

When the cars entered Aspinwall they stopped in
the street, and Mr. Saunders, standing in his car,
ordered all stores closed and all persons to come to’
Brus’ hall, where a patriotic loan meeting would be
held. .

A deputy United States marshal was in the squadron
and when John Brus, the owner of the hall, reiterated
his refusal to open it for the meeting, he placed Brus
under arrest. Mrs. Brus turned over the keys to the
halt.

The meeting was called, and every able-bodied resi-
dent was forced to attend. Not a business house re-
mained open, and subscriptions suddenly began to
rollin,

 
  

28 NEV: BUPPALO

Eastern Mills Get Canadian Wheat.

Under an arrangement made recently between the
United States food administration and the Canadian
food controller, large supplies of Canadian wheat are
to begin moving at once by way of the Great Lakes
to the Eastern American flour mills so they may re-
‘sume full capacity operations.

The wheat will be purchased through the Canadian
government at the game price as fixed for the Amer-
ican 1917 crop. Its coming will relieve pressure upon
the American Northwestern supply.

“The previous arrangements,” the food administra-
tion announced, “by which milling in Minneapolis and
Northwest section was reduced from 100 to 60 per cent
capacity to allow the lake movement from the North-
west to the Eastern mills has been removed, and the
Minneapolis and Northwest mills generally are now
running at full capacity.”

Unless peace should intervene and the food admin-
istration come to an end, there will be no change in
the government purchase price of the 1917 harvest
of wheat.

Sammy Welcomes the Blue Envelope; Letters Get

Past Censor He Knows.

In civil life the blue envelope, the token of discharge,
does not theet a welcome at the hands of its recipient;
but Sammy in France welcomes it with joy, a recent
news report states. The blue envelope is the one fea-
ture of the censorship regulations for which he has a
liking.
the soldier at the front to get letters of a personal
nature as far as the base censor without examination.

“It’s a great stunt,’ said one doughboy. “You ‘see,
if me and the missus want to have a little tiff'on paper
I don’t want the captain to be knowing all about it.
What do I care if some fellow miles away, whom I'll
never see in my life, reads it? I guess it will seem
like a little bit of home sweet home to him,”

Or, as another puts it:

“You know, any time a fellow writes his girl, of
course he has to gush a little. Maybe spring a little
poetry, and sometimes, by gosh, you mean it. Believe
me, you get mighty lonesome over here, hearing a lot
of chattering you don’t know nothin’ about. And when
her picture is lookin’ down at you from the wall and
the moon is helpin’ out the candle to light the room
and you get thinkin’ of the night you said good-by,
it’s powerful helpin’ to sit down and write her all
about it.

“Next morning, maybe, when the sun is. shinin’
bright, the boys whistling, and the French girls smil-
ing, you may feel—well, I don’t want that West Point
cub to know just how low’! was last night. And maybe
if he read it you wouldn’t send-it at all. But when it’s
some officer makes off whom you wouldn’t know. if
you saw him—Lord, who cares?”

The blue envelope is a development of this war.
It is new in our service. The French and English,

 

though, have been using it for quite a while; and, as
we have adopted in many respetts the censorship reg-
ulations of the English army, the lady in blue, as the
envelope has come to be called, came with them. To-
day she is the one popular member of her family.

 

For the blue envelope was designed to permit °

 

BILL VWEEREY:

Only authorized envelopés supplied to organizations
at the rate of ome per man pér week may be used.
More than one letter, however, may be forwarded in
the envelope, but all the letters must be from the same
soldier, who signs a certificate on the outside of the
envelope to the effect that the letters inclosed relate
to personal or family matters only and do not refer
td military subjects.

Cops Raid Orchard.

A moonlight night, an orchard with luscious apples,
peevish farmers armed with shotguns—these and other
things entered into the loss of their jobs by three
policemen of St. Louis, Missouri, the other day, who
pleaded guilty to making a raid on the orchard like
in their boyhood days.

The scene was laid in the vicinity of Chesterfield,
St. Louis County. On account of the frequent thefts
of potatoes and fruits, the farmers had been taking
turns patrolling the roads near their homes on the
lookout for the thieves.

Thus it was that when they saw a motor car con-
taining several men draw up beside the road the farm-
ers just then on duty hid themselves behind a hedge
and awaited developments. They saw the passengers
alight and enter the orchard. Then the men seized
sticks and commenced knocking apples from the trees
and sacking them up.

That was enough, and the farmers acted.

“Hands up!” they cried, after slipping up on the
orchard raiders,

The policemen complied. Then they tried to bluff.
They produced their-badges and proclaimed the fact
that they were officers of the law.

“Let’s see the badges,” said one craity farmer, and
by the light of a lantern he took down the numbers.
Then the policemen offered to pay for the fruit, and
upon their promise to, mail $5 were released. The
money did not come, and they were reported to the
chief.

The policemen, in their report of the incident, ad-
mitted having been caught taking the apples, and jus-
tified their action by stating that the premises on
which the trees were located seemed to be deserted
and the place entirely abandoned. They also admitted
having agreed to pay for the apples, and stated that
they mailed $5 the next day to cover the amount
demanded.

The names of the policemen are given as M. V.
Sands, C. N. Nelson, and T. B. Weingert.

they used to raid

Lost Aéroplane is Recovered.

The thrilling experience of Colonel Bishop and Cap-
tain W. A. Robertson, who were lost in: Mexico last
January in a flight from San Diego and finally rescued
when near exhaustion, is recalled by a report received
recently in San Antonio, Texas, that the aéroplane
in which the officers made the flight, and which had
been abandoned and given up for lost, has been recov-
ered and is now at Ajo, Arizona.

The plane was. found by W..D. Tremain and R. C..
Wilson, of Ajo, who penetrated the desert 140 miles
south of the border before they found it. The con-
dition of the machine was not mentioned in the report.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
   

   

NEW BUFFALO

Marriage by Proxy Urged.

Marriage by proxy between women’in Australia and
Australian soldiers at the front is a possibility of the
near future, recent hews states.

The proposal opens up interesting questions. It is
learned that if the Australian government favors such
a step, the authorities in England in all probability
will make arrangements for the performance of such
marriages, both in England and at the front.

“T should recommend, however,” said: one of these
authorities, “that no proxy should be employed—that
is, that there should be no personation of the bride
by another woman. That procedure might lead to
complications. For instance, the proxy might call her-
self a married woman, or claim to believe that the
ceremony was. valid and that she was the rightful

bride.

‘Tt also is possible that complications of a senti-
mental nature might arise. I understand that in
France, where marriages by proxy are not infrequent,
this difficulty has sometimes arisen, and the bride-
groom has preferred the bride’s substitute to the dis-
tant bride.”

It was said at the faculty office of the Archbishop
of Canterbury that these premises are often so
crowded with matrimonial candidates that the clerks
can hardly move about. Soldiers’ leave is generally
too short to allow of the ordinary procedure of pub-
lishing the banns for three weeks; therefore they
apply for a license which, if they show cause why it
should be reduced, may be obtained for as little as
$2.50 instead of the usual $10.

This rush to get married was put forward before the
House of Commons appeal tribunal by A. W. D. Moore
recently.

“At the request of the government we are gtanting
three marriage licenses at the price of one, and we are
getting a good deal of work,” said Mr. Moore.

Man Tried by Telephone.
An unusual hearing took place at Millville, New Jer-

sey, recently, when John Davenport, Bridgeton, was
given a trial by telephone by Mayor Whitaker. Dav-

enport ‘was locked up, charged with being intoxicated,
and his emptoyer desired that he be released that he
might return to work.

Officer Richard Haines, who made the arrest, tele-
phoned to the mayor, who was in Bridgeton. The
mayor told the officer to put the prisoner on the wire.

“Are you guilty or not guilty?” asked his honor over
the wire. “Guilty,” replied Davenport. “Your fine is
$4.20,” said the mayor. “All right, I'll pay it,” replied
the prisoner, as he turned the money over to the
policeman and bade the mayor good-by.

Girl’s
Miss Havana Hay, of Bessie, Virginia, isn’t a farmer,
as you might suspect from her name; but she is a lum-
berjack, and proud of it. She chops trees, saws tim-
ber, drives a four-horse hitch and performs other
equally heavy work with ease and abandon. Recently
she helped remodel a house, one of the lightest jobs
she has had of late. In winter she goes to school on
the money she makes during the sufmer ‘

Unique Calling.

 

BILL WEEKLY. 29

Women Excel Men in Physical Tests.

Cleveland women are physically superior to the men,
if results of the physical examinations of men and
wotnen applicants for positions on the sanitary police
force, made public by the Civil Service Commission
lately, are a criterion.

Thirty-seven out of forty-two women who took the
physical examination were found in perfect physical
condition. The army tests for sight, hearing, and flat
feet were used. Out of a total of seventy-two men
examined, but twenty-two passed the physical exam-
ination.

These were reasons suggested for mn condition, in
the report made to the Civil Service Commission:
Women do not dissipate; they do not smoke or drink;
they are not exposed to accidents that affect the Oe
ical condition

Big: Spud from War Garden.

A potato of unusually large proportion was dug on
the William Russell place at Ridgefield, Washington,
a few days ago. The tuber measured 9% inches in
length and 7 inches in circumference, and weighed
24 ounces,

The spud is of a common variety and is the source
of much attraction at a confectionery in Ridgefield,
where it is on display.

It was the largest potato ever harvested in Wash-
‘ington, and came from a city lot which was planted
for the first time this season, incidentally a “war
garden.”

College Girls Good Farmers.

Vassar College girls demonstrated to skeptical New
England farmers recently that women can plow, har-
row, afid milk cows in the most approved fashion.

This was at the opening of Eastern States Expo-
sition and Dairy Show. The big holiday crowd ap-
plauded the accomplishments of young women farmers
generously.

A good-sized contingent of agriculturists had gath-
ered to make derisive comments, but instead removed
their hats in admiration.

Drunks to Take Cure.

An elaborate plan for the reclamation of drunkards
has been formulated in Ripon, Wisconsin, recently,
not with the workhouse idea predominating, but with
the purpose of an actual cure as the incentive.

It is planned that all men brought up before the
court and charged with drunk and disorderly conduct,
instead of receiving a prison or workhouse sentence,

will be given their choice of accepting a sentence to
some penal institution or going to some appropriate
established place devoted to the treatment for the
elimination of the alcohol poison from the human
system.

After the poison has been removed and the craving
squelched, they will be discharged from the reclama-
tion institution, and, as they become able in spirit,
vigor, courage, and ambition to recompense their
benefactors, they are requested to do so to the extent
of the sum expended for their redemption.
 

le _ NEW BUFFALO

Big Turkey Captured by Fishhook.

One day recently Oswald Buff, who lives a mile east
of Buffalo, New York, hitched his horse to his demo-
crat wagon, loaded his fishing tackle into it, and drove
to Star Lake, 10 miles distant, where he fished for
perch. In the afternoon, having caught a generous
supply, Buff decided he would go home. He placed
his fishpoie in the back end of the wagon and started.

When he reached Buffalo he stopped at a grocery
to do some trading. Several men standing in front
of the store observed a large turkey in the center of
the road behind Buff’s wagon, seemingly entangled in
a fishline. As Buff emerged from the store the men
asked him where he got the turkey. He then ob-
served the turkey for the first time.

Investigation revealed that the turkey, a large one,
had swallowed the hook of the fishline. Buff says
that when he left the lake he did not remove the
worms from the hook, and that the hook hung out
of the back end of the wagon. The heavy sinker on
the line may have caused the line to unreel, leaving
the hook to drag on the ground. He had stopped for
a drink of water at a farmhouse where there was a
flock of turkeys.

Buff took the turkey home and will make inquiries
to ascertain the owner.

Smart Fish Hound III.

Abe Morledge, police emergency driver, of Akron,
Ohio, is worried. For Nellie, his prize fish hound, is
sick, and Morledge has been unable to find a way to
bring her back to health.

Nellie, Morledge asserts, is the only worth-while
fish hound in the country, and he naturally sets great
store by her. When Abe goes out to fish he invariably
takes Nellie with him. The dog has an uncanny fac-
ulty in being able to locate the finny tribe; and, no
matter if no one else-on the lake gets a nibble, Mor-
ledge always comes home with a nice mess. Nellie
does it. :

The dog always sits in the front end of the boat.

Armenian Woman Tells of Cruelties.

A fugitive from Turkey, whose husband, a wealthy
Armenian merchant, and three children were mur-
dered in her presence by Turks, and who lost two
other children through starvation during the expulsion
of Christians from Turkey, recently arrived in St.
Louis. Her name is Mrs. H. Yarvian.

Mrs. Yarvian went to the St. Louis headquarters of
the Committee for Armenian and Syrian Relief, 905
Locust Street, the other day and offered her services
in the campaign to raise $50,000 in St. Louis for Ar-
menian-Syrian relief. She will be at the headquarters
daily and will crochet articles which will be sold for
the benefit of the exiled Armenians and Syrians.

Mrs. Yarvian speaks no English. She arrived in St.
Louis from Russia, where she received funds from a
son in America, after her flight from Turkey. The
story of her suffering is detailed by the niece, who has
obtained it bit by bit from the heartbroken woman.

BILL. WEEKLY.

Jolt Restores His Memory.
d

Warren McLean, eighty, returned to his former
home in Anoka, Minnesota, recently to resume the
thread of his life, which he lost thirteen years ago
when he was kicked by a horse.

The other day he was struck by a falling tree on
his homestead near Rose Lake, Idaho, where he had
lived for many years, and lost memory of his life in
the West. Finally he was struck by a train and re-
gained his recollection of early days.

When he spent a night in a hotel in Spokane, Wash-
ington, recently, en route to Minnesota, he imagined
he was in Crookston, Minnesota, according to his
daughter, who came to take him East. He commented
on the great change that had come over the town,
and in reading a newspaper, was unable to understand
why he had got so sadly out of touch with world
events.

Kansas Jack Rabbits Food for Soldiers.

Out in the “short-grass” country of Kansas, and in
other sections of the State, a new source of power
has been found recently to be used in the war for
democracy—the Kansas jack rabbit. Uncle Sam has
recognized the usefulness of the animal, and already
has planned to enlist his services in the fight against
German autocracy.

In the western and central parts of the State the
jack rabbit is to ve found by the thousands. Always
Kansas has relished a rabbit dinner. Why not make
use of the rabbits by feeding them to the nation’s
soldiers? The idea sounded so good the government
‘has just closed an investigation and made a contract
with Coon Beck, of Hutchinson, for ten cars of the
animals.

Judge Loses. His Bacon.

After signing the Hoover pledge recently, Circuit
Judge Wurdemann, of Clayton, lowa, purchased a ham
and slab of bacon for $4.65. He said the best way to
conserve food was to buy in large quantities and use
as you need it. He placed the two packages on the
window sill of his chambers.

When court adjourned the packages were gone..
He questioned everybody he met. Finally he called
up ‘his home. He was “pretty excited,” as he: ex-
pressed it himself. He started to tell them of the
theft, but was told the packages were home. George
C. Dziatsko, a neighbor, had taken them home in his
auto so the judge wouldn’t have to carry them.

Montana Has Leprosy Case.

State Senator O. G. Willett, of Helena, Montana,
has been pronounced a hopeless leper by his phy-
sician.

Senator Willett. has voluntarily placed himself at
the disposition of the State authorities. He is thought
to have contracted the disease in Hawaii twelve years
ago, while serving in the United States army.

Willett is married, but has no children. He has been
prominent in politics several years, and was one of
the framersfof Montana’s compensation act.
Ww BUFF ALO

Cacklng Hens Kill Ratdesnake,

Inquisitive chickens, who cackled in his wake and
snapped at him for a distance of half a block, while
he tried to crawl away from them, brought death to
poor old.“Brownie,” a harmless pet rattlesnake.

TG. Lowe, 2 erecer, in Seattle, Washington, says
that he saw the maneuvers of the chickens in a vacant
lot near his store, and, after investigating, killed the
snake with a spade, The rattler measured fifty-four
inches and had eight rattles.

Inquiry in the neighborhood drew the information
that the snake belonged to W. E. Rogérs, a carnival
man’ and a professional snake charmer. Up till two
weeks ‘ago he had kept twenty-five snakes in a box
in the cellar of his home here, but had removed some
and others died. “Brownie” escaped. He was once
a highly valuable snake, capable of performing a con-
siderable number of tricks, but had become old, and
Rogers had kept him as a pet on account of his long
service.

Whole Damm Family Has Name Changed.

Because William Joergen Damm, of New Rochelle,
found his name an annoyance to him and displeasing
to his children, County Judge Frank L: Young signed
an order recently in New York which allows -him to
change it to William Joergen Dale.

The petitioner sets forth that when his children are
in the schoolroom their minds are distracted by con-
stant conversation among the children directed toward
their name by. the use of the words: “There are the
Damm children,’ and other such expressions.

Four Beare for Generals.

“Tf the action lately taken by General Tasker H. Bliss,
chief of staff of the army, is followed by General John
J. Pershing, commanding the United States military
forces in France, and their successors in the new grade

f “General, United States Army,” they will-wear four
silver stars. in a single row on the shoulder: straps of
their field uniforms to indicate their military. rank.
Officers holding the grade of general usually are given
personal discretion in the matter of insignia of rank,
Naturally there has been a lack of uniformity in prac-
tice, and there also is little information on the. sub-
ject in the’early records of the war department.

Hogs Bring.$731 Check.

That there is money in raising hogs is evidenced by —

the check -for $731.06 which Everett E. Edmonds, a
rancher near Ridgeville, Washington, recently received
for a single automobile truckload of hogs which he
sold at the North Portland stockyards, about 28 miles
southeast of that. place. There were 16 hogs in the
load; weighing 4,039 pounds, the price: being $18.10 a
hundredweight.

QOne-porker brought the owner $66. The hogs. were
less than a year old, and of:the Chester White breed.

Mr. Edmonds is an ex-school-teacher, having taught
a few miles east of Ridgeville in the days when that
country was young. Raising hogs is his hobby. Most
of his: time is: devoted to. raising porkers.

: a

BILL WEEK. ol

Squirrel Chase on Train.

A man in a gray fedora with a newspaper bundle
hugged coyly to his breast and a reddened handker-
chief around his finger left the train that arrived at
the Grand Central from New Rochelle and hustled to
the lost-and-found department recently. He routed’
out the officials of that bureau and held out his news-
paper cornucopia with the remark:

“Here’s your squirrel!”

“H’m! What's that?” asked the clerk, and he mut-
tered something like “Crazy.”

“I say I’ve returned your squirrel and hope you take
better care of it in future.”

The clerk’s incredulity was relieved a bit when the
feet of the squirrel rattled inside the parcel and a
bushy tail whisked out an open corner. The fact is
it was a squirrel that missed its footing on the tran-
som grating of the Park Avenue tunnel and got free
transportation from about .Eightieth Street to the
Grand Central.

And all the way from Eightieth Street to the station
the passengers in one or more cars of a crowded com-
muters’ train had to try fof immunity from squirrel
bite by climbing up and standing’ in their seats.

The veritable facts are these:

‘Leland . Deats, an insurance ‘man, from New Ro-
chelle, how ae was sitting ina seat near ‘the door
of the train after it entered the tunnel. He héard a
little “plot” on the platform outside, and thought he
was seeing visions when the squirrel sat up on his
hind legs,-perked his head, winked a shiny. eye, waved
a bushy: tail,-and saluted with his forepaw:

Billy-from-the-Park proved real enough when Mr.
Deats tried to catch him. He darted back through
three cars—Deats had been sitting in the car just back
of the smoker—until he came to a closed door; then
he headed for the front again.

The three cars were in turmoil as Billy leaped from
seat to seat and up on the brass hat rails and from
derby to’derby. There were a few offers to join in
the chase, but Deats asked ‘only that they should
guard the doors. So when Billy reached the front of
the car next to the smoker the door was.closed in his
face, and he started his frisking north again. That
door, too, was closed now, and there was only one
carload of commuters for Billy to choose from to bite.

The women, were on the seats, and the brokers and
candlestick makers were looking out for their ankles,
too. Deats borrowed a newspaper, got Billy in a
corner, and tried to smother him. Billy eluded him
and sank his incisors through the forefinger of Deats’
right hand.

A little more warily, just as the train was reaching
the station platform, Deats got Billy into another cor-
ner and this time covered him with the paper, folded
it into.a sack with the nut hunter inside, and, after
wrapping a handkerchief around his bleeding finger,
took his prize to the lost-and-found department of the
New Haven, after which he had his finger cauterized
at-a drug store.

“Whew-w!” said Deats, recovering his wind while
the finger was being bandaged. “What did I want to
chase that. squirrel for, anyway!”

 
 

es

Find Pioneers’ Skeletons.

The skeletons of two pioneers, found near Billings,
Montana, recently, are thought to date from the Lewis
and Clark expedition time. They were unearthed in
an excavation near that city. The bodies, both of
grown men, sat upright, and there were no marks of
violence.

Bits of metal and remains of blankets led to the
belief that the graves were as ancient as the Lewis and
Clatk exploration.

Historians are searching the records to see whether
any member of the expedition died near here, and if
so the bones will be reburied with a monument.

Her Birth Revealed to Girl.

Ethel Dean, a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, returned
recently to her home in Charlotte, Michigan, after a
mysterious absence of a month, and with her she has
brought a strange tale.» Moreover, so firm is her own
belief in its truth that she refuses to live at the home
of her parents again, and as a result is held as a ward
of the juvenile court.

With her pictures and description spread broadcast
over the country by her grief-stricken parents, the
girl was found quietly living as a domestic in a pri-
vate family at Lansing, the State capital, only eighteen
miles from her home. She apparently was contented,
unconcerned over the sorrow her absence had caused,
and not at all anxious to return home. ~

The Deans live on a farm near Charlotte. Mrs. Dean
is frail and an invalid, and her husband crippled as
‘the result of an atitomobile accident. Some time ago
the girl started for high school as usual and was not
seen again.

Then came her finding and her strange tale to ac-
count for her disappearance. She says that shortly
after last Christmas she was approached on the street
in Charlotte by an elderly man.

“You must go with me to Jackson,” he said. “It is
highly important, and there you will learn a secret
concerning yourself,”

Fhe girl declares she refused to go then, but prom-
ised to meet the man again the next day. She was

“Secret”

sworn to secrecy, and the next morning did not go to

school but to Jackson. There she was conducted to a
lowly dwelling where a woman lay dying.

“Iam your mother, child,’ said the dying woman,
according to Miss Dean: “Years ago I had a little
girl—you. But somehow my heart did not go out to
ion and one day as I drove past the Dean home I
‘saw another little child who looked very much like
you. Where was no one around, so I changed your
clothes for hers and left you there and took her away
with me. She died, and now I am going, too; but I
‘want you to know the real story of your birth: Your
real nameis Violet Raymond, but we used to call you
(Tess, ”

It was under the name of Violet Raymond that the
girl was found at Lansing. She says she stayed with
the dying woman, then decided she could not return
to the Dean home.

In spite of its improbability, questioning has failed
to shake the girl’s story. She has given many details,

NEW BUFFALO.

BILL WEEKLY.
but has not contradicted herself once. Her life before
her disappeara&ce was exceedingly quiet. She did not
go with boys, and never had been mixed up in ey
escapades. : <
Since her return her entire personality seems to
have undergone a change in that she will have nothing
to do with her former associates, has developed a
poise and dignity foreign to her, and says she does not
care to return to the Deans, as they are not her par-
ents. The Deans, heartbroken, declare they cannot
believe the story of the exchanged children, and are
as puzzled as the public to account for Miss Dean’s
conduct.

Edison at Work on Ship-Saving Devices.

Thomas A. Edison recently visited Washington,
D. C., to work on devices of his own invention for pro-
tection against submarines.

While his ship-protection devices are official secrets,
they are admittedly most promising. They were tried
out before his own eyes.

Edison spent several weeks on a yacht which had
been converted into. a submarine chaser. It was
equipped on the electrical wizard’s own orders with
every necessity for working out his U-boat problems.

As is customary with Edison when his brain is
working hardest, he slept but little on the trip.

Many Heirs Share Hetty Green’s Cash.

For fifty years the numerous heirs of a trust fund
of $1,500,000 held by the late Hetty Green during her
lifetime have been waiting to get their shares, Long
before the death of the “world’s richest woman,” the
38 heirs had printed voluminous genealogical tables

containing their names, addresses, and the fractional

portions expected to accrue to each,

Two Chicagoans are among the heirs to the estate
left in trust by Sylvia Ann Howland, of New Bedford,
Massachusetts, to her niece, Mrs. Green, at whose
death the property was to be divided among the lineal
descendants of Gideon Howland, of Dartmouth, Mas-
sachusetts. Now that the trust fund is to be divided,
the heirs are surprised to find their number augmented
by scores of claimants from Europe, Canada, and this
country, of whom they never before had heard.

Their interests are being protected by the trustees,
of whom Colonel Edward H. R. Green, son of the late
Mrs, Green, and himself one of the heirs, is one. The
estate is now in court at Meredith, New Hampshire,
for settlement.

Shocking!

At least one American did not know there was a
war in progress in which the United States is par-
ticipating until he appeared at the recruiting office in
El Paso, Texas, to enlist He came from Pinedale,
Arizona, and gave his name as Hyrum Smith Hancock.
He had been in Pinedale, a small mountain town, for
five years, and said no one there knew there was a
war in progress when he left. He was accepted for
the navy. x *

 

 

 

 

 

 

e
 
ew Buffalo Bill

ISSUED
mv ERY
TUESDAY

Weekly |

BEAUTIFUL
COLORED
COVERS

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures of Buffalo Bill,

as scout and plainsnian, really are.

voted to be masterpieces of Western adventure fiction.
Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to know all there is

to know about him.

great man, as by reading the New Buffalo Bill Weekly.

We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print.

These stories have been read exclusively in this weekly for many years, and are

In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with the actual habits and life of this

You can have your news dealer order them or

they- will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price_in money or postage stamps.

 

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—Buftalo Billin the Cafion of Death.
67—Buffalo Bill and Billy, the Kid.
68—Buftalo Bill and the Robber Ranch.
69—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Wonders.
70—Buffalo Bill and the Traitor Soldier.
71—Buffalo Bill’s Dusky Trailers.
72—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Mine.
73—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent.
74—-Buffalo Bill’s Scarlet Hand.
75-—Buffalo Bill Running the Gantlet.
-{6—Buffalo Bill’s Leap in the Dark.
77—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Plunge.
78—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Mission.
79—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Raid.
80—Buffalo Bill’s Traitor Guide.
81—Buffalo Bill’s Camp Fires.
82—Buffalo Bill Up a Stump.
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. y
94—_Buffalo Bill in the Death Desert.
95—Buffalo Bill in No-Man’s Land.
96—Buffalo Bill’s Border Ruffians.
97—Buffalo Bill’s Black Eagles. °
98—Buffalo Bill’s Rival.
99—Buffalo Bill and the Boy Bugler.
100—Buffalo Bill and the White Specter.
101—Buffalo Bill’s Death Defiance.
102—Buffalo Bill and the Barge Bandits.
103—Buffalo Bill, the Desert Hotspur.
104—Buffalo Bill’s Wild Range Riders.
105—Buffalo Bill’s Red Retribution.
106—Buffalo Bill’s Death Jump.
107—Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Runners.
108—Buffalo Bill’s Fiery Eye.
109—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band.
110—Buffalo Bill’s Maverick.
111—Buffalo Bill, the White Whirlwind.
112—Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico.
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.
123—Buffalo Bill in the Jaws of Death.
124—Buffalo Bill’s Dance With Death.
125—-Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold.
126—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail.
127—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen.
128—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder.
+ 29—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance.
130—Buffalo Bill’s Peace Pipe.
131—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis.
132—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa.
133—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death.
134—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak.
135—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty.

136—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.
4147—Ruffalo 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.
2038—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Message.
204—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Her-

mosa.
205—Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail.
206—Buffalo Bill’s Quarry.
207—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood.
208—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid.
209—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight.
210—Buffalo Bill Repaid.

211—Buffalo Bill’s Throwback.
212—-Buffalo Bill's ‘‘Sight-Unseen.”’
213—Buffalo Bill’s New Pard.
214—Buffalo Bill’s Winged Victory.
215—Buffalo Bill's ‘“‘Pieces-of-Eight.”’
216—Buffalo Bill and the 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 Bil?, the Peace Maker.
227—Buffalo Bill’s Promise to Pay.
228—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Hitch.
229—Buffalo Bill and the Wheel of Fate.
30—Buffalo Bill and the Pool of Mystery.
#1—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.
2538—Buffalo Bill at Rainbow’s End.
254—Buffalo Bill and the Russian Plot.
255—Buffalo Bill’s Red Triangle.
256—Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush.
257—Buffalo Bill’s Tramp Pard.
258—Buffalo Bill on the Upper Missouri.
259—Buffalo Bill’s Crow Scout.
260—Buffalo Bill’s Opium Case.
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.

Datéd 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.

x
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City