A WEEKLY PUBLICATION ¢ 1 E- = DEVOTED 10 BORDER HISTORY

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Issued Weekly. By Subscription $250 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at New York Post Office 6y STREET & SMITH, 238 Wiliam St., N. Y-

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VOCcOeed |

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THE AUTH OP

 

 

 

Buffalo Bill fired once more, aiming this time, not at the man himself, but at his horse. The poor
creature staggered, while its rider went flying forward from his saddle and rolled to the ground.

 
 

 

 
 
 

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Readers of this weekly will find that the stories have been increased more than one-third

An nouncement. over theirformer length. This increase is made in response to a general demand that the weekly
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the increase. From this on, these stories will be the longest as well as the best of their kind published.

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A WEEKLY PUBLICATION :
DEVOTED TO BORDER HISTORY

 

 

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Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 278 William St., N. ¥.
. Entered according to Actof Congress tn the year 1905, tn the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

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NEWYORK, January 21, 1905.

Price Five Cents.

 

No. 193.

BUFFALO BILL AN

 

D THE BANDIT IN ARN

 

OR,

_ The Mysterious Horseman of the Mountains.

 

By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER.

FHE BANDIT IN ARMOR.

A single horseman was picking his way along a high
rim of rock in the mountains of Wyoming.

The rim of rock overhung a canyon. This canyon was
a deep, winding cleft in the granite. At the top it was
two hundred feet wide; at the bottom it made a mere path,
where but two or three men could ride or walk abreast.

To most men the narrow, ledgy path overhanging this
canyon would have presented serious difficulties; they
would have thought twice before attempting it, either on
foot or on horseback. |

‘But the lone rider apparently cared so little for the
danger of the ledgy trail that, as he rode along, he sang
now and then snatches of a musical ballad. :

Certainly he had a clear, cool head, or else his nerves
were of steel.

The man was Buffalo Biil, the famous scout and bor-
der hero. :

The horse he rode was black as night, the saddle was
of stamped leather, ornamented with silver, and the bridie
was decorated in like manner, with beaten silver from
the workshops of those wonderful Mexican silversmiths,
whose cunning craftsmanship is so well known.

“His heart was light as the balmy air,
And he sang a song to June;
For his thoughts were with his love so fair,
And the whole world seemed in tune.
Her eyes were like the sky so blue,
Her hair was spun of gold,
And her love for him was ever true

While the——”

 

\

 
 

   

THE BUFFALO

The song the scout was singing was broken in upon by
the sharp crack of a revelver. Amy

Instantly he drew rein. .

Again and again the revolver cracked.

“Down in the canyon!” he said. -

In an instant he was out of the saddle, and, holding
the reins of his horse, he was bending far over, ke
down into the narrow éleft.

‘What he beheld stirred him like a blast from.a war
bugle. .

A man, magnificently mounted, was coming at a thun-
dering pace along the trail at the bottom of the canyon,
and was firing at some men who were pursuing him.

Held on the horse in front of him, clutched tightly, was
a young woman, whose attitude was that of despair.

A scream now rang out from her lips, and she stretched
her harids toward the men thundering in pursuit. '

Yet the man himself, the horseman who thus held
her, attracted the scout’s attention more than anything
else; for he was clad strangely in steel armor, with a
queer metal headpiece that hid his face completely.

_ Though the scout was able to see all this distinctly, and
the sound of the shots, the girl’s scream, and the clatter
of pounding hoofs reached him so clearly, all the actors
were some distance away. ©

But they were coming toward him with great rapidity,
and soon would sweep through the canyon right under
the point where he was now standing.

The scout’s revolver flashed out of its case.

- For an instant he seemed to consider the thought of
shooting at the armored man who was thus bearing away
this girl apparently against her will

Then he reconsidered his determination.

To fire upon the man might endanger the life of the
girl. In addition, it was probable that the armor the
man wore would deflect a bullet, unless it struck in some
weak place.

The resolve of the scout was quickly taken.

He dropped the bridle rein.

“Stay here a few minutes, Midnight,”
ing to the horse.

Then he ran along the edge, seeking a place by which
he could get down into the canyon without loss of time.

he said, speak-

The walls were steep, and offered little foothold, and
a fall into the canyon, caused by a slip, would have been
oe serious thing. It would probably bring broken bones,
if not death. +

Notwithstanding, the scout did not hesitate long

Running back to the saddle he caught away the lariat
looped to the saddle bow, and flinging the noose over a
small stump of a dead tree that grew on the canyon’s rim,
he was soon lowering himself with great rapidity.

As he reached the end of the rope he found a little pro-

BILL STORIES.

jection; and by hanging to this, seeking places for his
hands and feet, and by slipping down, and half falling
at times, he descended the perilous declivity.

So much time was consumed in this dangerous descent,
fast as he worked, that the horseman was almost on him
by the time he had gained the narrow wu at the canyon’s
bottom.

He could not now see the pursuers, but he could hear
the rattle of their horses’ hoofs on the stony way.

As for the man in armor, he came plunging down upon
the scout, who stood now directly in his path.

The girl was struggling in the man’s arms, as if she
would free herself and throw herself headlong to the
ground. :

“Halt, there !’’

The command, in loud and ringing tones, came from
the lips of Buffalo Bill.

The answer was a shot fromthe horseman’s revolver,
that cut through the coat of the scout, scraping the skin
on the shoulder.

The revolver of the scout spoke at the same moment.

“Crack! crack!’ it sounded, sending two bullets against
the man’s steel breastplate

With a wild laugh, the man drove his horse on.

The scout gave a mighty leap, and catching the morse
by the bridle tried to stop it.

It was a powerful brute, and being maddened by the
spurring of the mail-clad rider, it reared and plunged
in a frightful way.

The man, pointing his revolver straight at Buffalo Bill’s
breast, again pulled trigger.

The weapon snapped on an empty cartridge.

The horseman had fired the contents of every chamber
at his pursuers and at the scout.

“Curse you, I’il not be held up by you!” he shouted,
and he hurled the empty revolver at the scout’s head. |

The scout was somewhat hampered in his efforts, for he

~had been trying to stop the horse in a manner that would
not bring injury to the girl.

He tried now to dodge the flying weapon, but a jerk of
the horse prevented; and the revolver striking him on
the head dizzied him for an instant.

The horse, rearing under the spurring of the rider, tore
the reins from the scout’s fingers, and galloped on, dade
ing the scout to one side.

A defiant, ringing laugh came back along the canyon.

Buffalo Bill rose to his feet and again drew his re-
volver. . .

Though he staggered from the effects of the bog he
had received, he covered the fleeing man, and fired again
and again at his broad back. _

It was a waste of lead,

  

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE BULEPALO

The bullets could not penetrate that steel armor, and,
with another wild laugh, the horseman disappeared round
a bend of the crooked trail, bearing his captive.

 

CHAPTER II.
IN THE DEVIL’S BASIN.

Buffalo Bill was so enraged that he was about to begin
a chase of the dastardly horseman, when the men in pur-
suit, riding hard, came galloping up.

“There he goes!’ yelled the scout.

Some of the men rode right on, but others drew rein
beside the scout

“Waal, ef it ain’t Buffler!”’ cried a hearty voice.

The speaker was clad in greasy clothing, wore a red
flannel shirt, carried a long rifle, and was a typical West-
ern miner.

“Ah, it’s you!” said the scout,
face.

_ “Yas, it air me, that you used ter know as Sweet Wil-
liam. Buffler, I’m as pleased ter see ye as ef I’d run a
splinter inter my hand.” ;

“We haven't any time to lose,” said the scout. “That
villain is carrying the young lady away. I tried to stop
him, but failed.”

‘“‘As yer seems ter be afoot, Pard Buffler, hyar’s a mount
fer ye; climb up behind me. This hoss kin carry double”

The other men, having tarried but a moment, were all
riding on.

It was impossible for the scout to get Midnight down
from the high canyon wall, and being anxious to assist in
this chase, and to see the end of it, he lost no time‘in leap-
ing to the back of the horse of the man who called

himself by the strange name of Sweet William.
“Buffer,” said Sweet William,’ as he set his horse in
motion, “ef we gits holt of that dod-rotted rascal we’re

goin’ ter string him up.”

"T yudge-he needs it.”

“He do, Buffler, ther worst ever.
that gal is?”

ENow

“Ner I don’t. I never sot eyes on her afore. Me and
these hyar fellers air from the silver camp down below.
We was. out nosin’ round through the hills, prospectin’
like, when hyar comes that villain, goin’ hell-bent up ther

looking into the man’s

You don’t know who

canyon, with that gal on ther saddle in front of him. She

screeched like a kyote when she seen us; and we started
arter him. An’ ef we gits him, Buffler!”

“Then you don’t know anything about her?”

‘Waal, some o’ ther fellers thinks she’s a gal that lives
on a ranch over hyar aways. She lives alone thar, I
reckon. I s’pose this. feller knowed it, an’ jest took a
notion ter corral her, while nobody was lookin’. It was

s

BILL STORIES: ; 3

only a chance that we happened ter be nigh ther canyon
when he passed along with her.’

“And just a chance that I happened to see her.”

“What you doin’ in these diggings, Buffler ?”

“On a little mission; but we'll talk about that, later.
Prod your horse on a little; he’s falling behind.”

The miner prodded his big horse on so effectively that
it did not remain behind long, even though it was carry-
ing double weight

Suddenly a cry rang out from the horsemen in the lead.

The end of the canyon had been reached.

In front of them, some distance away, the armored

_ bandit was riding on.

He had ridden into a vast amphitheater, a mile or more
in circumference. The bottom of this amphitheater was
covered with fine, white sand, almost as smooth as a
floor. All round it rose high cliffs and mountain walls
that were apparently unscalable.

The pursuers had drawn rein, and were conferring in
excitement, when Buffalo Bill and Sweet William joined
them.

“°Tain’t no use shootin’ at that cuss from hyer,”’ one
of them said. ‘That thing he’s wearin’ ‘will flatten out
a bullet like a steel wall; and, besides, thar’s ther con-
stant danger of hittin’ the girl.”

“Ride after him!’ urged the scout.

“You ain't ever been in this part, Pard Buffer,” said
Sweet William, “er you wouldn't say that. You’re lookin’
now on ther thing called ther Devil’s Basin, which is
a good name for it.”

The scout. stared.

He had heard of the Devil’s Basin, but had never:
seen it.

That sheet of fine, soft sand, shimmering in thegsun,
was but the dry upper crust of a vast bed of quicksand.
It looked hard as a floor; yet, underneath, the sand lay
in wait to drag down the unlucky wayfarer, as it had
dragged down many before.

“But the man is riding across it!”

“Yas, he air, Buffler, fer he knows ther path.”

Buffalo Bill saw the armored bandit carefully turn his
horse this way and that. He was riding slowly now, and
was evidently seeking some familiar course.

“He knows ther hidden trail, Buffler, but we don't;
and not knowin’, we don’t reckons we'd better try it.
Thar’s a way through that bed o’ quicksand; thar’s a

rocky ridge jest under the sand; and if you know which

way that rocky path turns and twists you’re all right. Ef
you don’t know, and try ter go through, you might as
well say yer prayers.” _

Sweet William slipped from the saddle.

Buffalo Bill looked at the horseman.

sh aoe eR oop tan
Se aaa i a si aaa

 
       

   

4 0) THE BUPRALO

Once again the despairing ery of the girl came to him,
floating like a death wail across the shimmering level.

“T can follow that dastard, and I will!”

Buffalo Bill drove the horse toward the stretch of sand.

“You can’t do it, Pard Buffler; not unless you knows
ther way!”

The warning came from Sweet William.

Buffalo Bill, without heeding this, was looking for the

tracks left by the hoofs of the bandit’s horse.

There were some faint imprints near the edge of the
sand, but these disappeared further out. The scout’s
eyes were keen, and he believed he could pick up and fol-
low the trail’ before the shifting sand obliterated it.

“T’ll try it!” he cried, desperately, as he saw the bandit
riding slowly on.

- To stand there and see the girl borne away in that

cowardly manner without raising a hand to help her

was something the gallant scout could not contemplate.

But Sweet William cried out again in warning:

“We knows you're brave, Buffler, but yer goes to yer
death if yer attempts it!”

Nevertheless, Buffalo Bill spurred on, following the
line of tracks that stretched out into the sand-

For a short distance all went well.
disappeared. The shifting sand, moved continually by
the wind, had covered them.

Without warning, the horse began to sink and flounder.

The quicksand had caught the animal ridden by the
‘heroic scout and was drawing it down to death.

A cry of anxiety rose on the shore a few yards away.

Sweet William, disdaining personal peril now that he
saw his old friend of the plains and mountains in dan-
ger, came running out along the route taken by the scout.

By following the new tracks he was able to keep on
the rocky ridge that lay there just beneath the treacherous
sand.

Seeing that the horse was sinking under him, the scout
slipped from the saddle.

But when he set his feet on the sand that seemed so
firm they sank, and the sand gripping him about the
ankles began to suck them: down.

The frightened horse was struggling and plunging,
thus settling itself more quickly.

While Buffalo Bill’s horse was making this struggle
and being engulfed in the horrible sands, something
occurred out on the shimmering surface of the amphi-

theater floor which caused the men to oe out in aston-

ishment.
The mail-clad bandit had turned his horse about and
appeared to be riding back.
It seemed at first glance that he was returning, either
for the purpose of delivering himself up to these men

Then the tracks .

BILL STORIES.

or for the purpose of fighting them, having discovered
that he could go no further.

But the danger in which Buffalo Bill was placed was
so threatening that the pursuers of the mail-clad man
turned their attention to the work of saving the scout.

Buffalo Bill tried to draw his feet out of the sucking
sand, but the effort only made his condition worse.

The horse had already sunk to its sides, and was going
deeper every moment, though it continued to struggle.

“Here, a lariat!” the scout called.

“That's what I’ve got, Pard Buffler !”’

Laying hold of this lariat, the scout was drawn by the
men from the quicksands, but only after a terrific exertion
of strength.

Nothing could be done for the horse, and with pity

‘they saw it sinking deeper and deeper into the horrible

maw of this insatiable lake of death.

From the struggling horse the men turned their atten-
tion to the oncoming horseman.

Buffalo Bill understood the situation at a glance. He
saw the man turn his horse this way and that, riding
slowly as if seeking out a hidden trail.

“The granite ridge under the sand bends back in this
direction, and that has forced him to som this way again.
I hope it will bring him close up to us.’

He lifted his revolver and pointed it at the sinking
horse.

“Your pardon, Sweet William !”

Then he fired a bullet into the horse’s brain.

“I am more sorry for that brute than words can tell;
it was my folly that led it to its death.”

Sweet William saw the head of his horse drop over,
saw it cease struggling and sink slowly into its sandy
grave.

“I wishes I had ther saddle,”
I don’t blame you, Buffler !”

“T have a saddle miore valuable than that, I think, which
shall be yours, Sweet William; and I will see that you
have another horse as good as the one I recklessly lost
for you.” “

The return of the horseman drew attention from the

he said, tegretfully. “But

dead animal sinking now slowly from sight beneath the:

sucking sands.

There was a fingering of revolvers as he thus came
near.

Soon they could see him distinctly, and could even
see the white face of the girl in his arms.

“Buffler, we'll wait till he gits as clost as he’s goin’
ter come, and then we'll shoot his hoss,” said. Sweet
William. “I reckons it air a waste 0’ good lead ter shoot
at that engine b’iler he’s wearin’. but thar ain’t iron or
steel protectin’ ther horse, and we kin down it.”

sang out Sweet |
William, and he sent a lariat whistling through the air.

 

Z BEEBE SS

Ze GPE EE

Ep OS GEE
 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

“A good idea,’ some of “the other men cried; “we'll
down the horse.”

“And leave the girl in the midst of the quicksand ee
said the scout.

It was a thought to bid them pause.

Straight toward them the man came, picking his way
over the hidden granite ridge.

He seemed to be riding on the sand, but their knowl-
edge of the character of this treacherous bit of earth told
them his horse was setting its feet on the secure foun-
dation of the concealed ridge.

At places the path he had pursued outwardly seemed
very near to the one by which he was returning.

 

CHAPTER III.
TRYING AO SAVE) THE: GRE,

Buffalo Bill had seldom been in a situation in which he
was so puzzled as to how he ought to act.

“Fis legs do not seem to be well protected,” was his
thought, as he looked at the masked horseman, Vand ol
think I could put a bullet into one of them; but would
it be advisable? He would probably drop the girl into
the quicksand, and she would be even worse off than
she is now.”

The horseman understood his advantage.

When he had approached to within fifty yards of the
men grouped together on the edge of the quicksand lake
he halted.

He was within pistol shot, yet the men watching him
dared not fire upon him.

“Ho, there!’ he shouted.

“Waal, we're listenin’!’’ said Sweet William.
thank ye not ter call me a hoe, though !”

“This path I am on comes within thirty yards of the
shore,’ the man shouted. “I intend to ride over it, for
it’s the only way I can go, unless I turn back. You fel-
lows can shoot my horse, or you can try to shoot me, if
you want to; but if you do, I shall simply toss this young
woman into the quicksands.”

His words and threat made the. men gasp.

‘He speaks as if he had a pebble in his mouth,” thought
the scout, who had listened closely, hoping thus to dis-
cover the man’s identity. “Evidently he is disguising

Sed

his voice.”
“Do you hear what I say?” the armored bandit shouted.
The girl, rousing as if from a half faint, put out her
hands appealingly.
“Save me!” she screamed, seeing the men on the shore.
“Save me!’ :
The horseman struck her a brutal blow in the face,
causing the men on the shore to utter curses deep and

terrible.

DILL STORIES. _ 5

“We hears you, and we sees you,” said Sweet William ;
“an’ we opines that we’re seein’ an’ hearin’ ther biggest
an’ meanest devil in these hyar diggings!”

“Tf you hear what I say you may act accordingly,” he
cried, as he set his horse in motion and came on. ‘“‘Shoot
at me or shoot my horse, arid over this girl goes; then
you fellows can fish her out!”

“Of all the fiends!” exclaimed Buffalo Bill, unable to
control his feelings.

“T reckons, Buffiler, that ef we ever gits our hands on
him we'll tar him an’ feather him an’ set him on fire;
‘twould sarve sich a cuss right.” oe

“Shoot at me, and the girl takes the consequences !”’
the man threatened again. |

Then he rode straight toward the shore.

Buffalo Bill, looking keenly at the line of his advance,
saw how close it came to the point where Sweet William’s
horse had been swallowed up.

“Are we to stand here and see this thing?” the scout
muttered, grinding his teeth in rage.

“What kin we do, Buffler?”

The girl helped to solve the conundrum.

When the bandit had reached the point nearest the shore
and turned his horse,.showing that the path ended here
and now led away, the girl, with a scream, struck him
violently on the steel breastplate, and drove her heels
into the sides of the horse.

The beast plunged; and in his effort to hold it upon
the hidden path, the outlaw released his clutch of her
waist. é

The next instant she flung herself violently from the
horse’s back.

“Wow! See that, Buffler?’ yelled Sweet William, dan-
cing in excitement.

Buffalo Bill’s revolver went up instantly.

The shot that rang out brought the plunging horse to
its knees.

The horseman went flying over its head.

But he was up instantly, and began to run along the
hidden path, abandoning his horse, which the scout’s bul-
let had brought down.

The girl had struck on the edge of the hidden path;
but now, slipping from it, she began to sink into the hor-
rible quicksand.

The men standing beside Buffalo Bill began to shoot
at the armored man.

One of their shots apparently took effect, for they
thought he limped slightly as he hastened on.

Buffalo Bill leaped to a-horse that at the moment was
riderless. es

“We must save the girl!” he cried. “Get your lariats !”’

Without hesitation he rode into the treacherous sand.
- He had noted the route that had led him safely as far

nea a a TE I a a aes

SL Ngee a ee

 
 

  

6 ( THE BUFFALO

as he had gone the previous time, and he knew just the
point where Sweet William’s animal lay buried.

There was not an instant to lose, for the girl was fast
sinking,

She struggled as the cruel sand dragged her down,
and stretching out her hands to these men implored them
in piteous accents to save her.

“I will save you, or die in the attempt!’ the scout
shouted to her, for the purpose of encouraging her.

He hoped that he could pass beyond the spot where
Sweet William’s horse had been sucked under, and he
veered to the right there, to avoid the hole into which
it had dropped.

But, instantly, he discovered that again he had missed
the granite ledge under the sand, for his horse began
to sink.

He was now about halfway to the girl.

The horse he was on began to struggle and flounce
about in an effort to free itself.

It was doomed, the scout knew; and without a mo--

ment’s hesitation he put a bullet through its brain:

This apparently cruel thing was necessary.

Not a moment was to be lost, and the threshing about
of the horse was causing him to waste time.

Standing up now in the saddle, as the dead weight of
the horse’s body thrust it downward, the scout hurled
the lariat which had been coiled at the saddle bow.

“Catch it!" he shouted ta ner.

It was thrown with aim so true that the noose fell over
the girl’s shoulders.

The scout could look into her staring, blue eyes and
see the pallor of her frightened face.

She was struggling still, but her fright rendered her

hardly conscious of what she was doing.
“Loop that round your shoulders, under your arms,”

2?

~he called. “We wiil save you!
He turned his face toward the shore.
“Lariats, here!’
Sweet William, advancing as far as he could in safety,
flung out his lariat.

Other lariats whistled through the air.

The dead horse had already sunk until the sand was.

touching the saddle girths.

Within two minutes more, so terrible was the suck
of the quicksand, the horse’s body would be hidden.
The girl had sunk to her waist. Being light of weight
she was not carried down so speedily.

“Just put your arms through the noose, and we'll

tighten it,” said the scout, when he perceived how be-
wildered the girl was.

She was hardly able to help herself in any way.

But, understanding his directions, she thrust her arms

 

~ on the lariat he held.

Bilt. STORIES,

up through the noose; it dropped down round her body,
and with a pull the scout drew it tight, and thus secured it.

In the meantime, he had tied the ater lariats round
his own body.

The horse, sinking under him, had gone down now
until only the ridge of its back showed. Its head, which
had dropped forward when death came to it, was already
under the sand.

Still standing in the saddle, the scout now shouted to
the men on shore to haul away.

“You must pull us out of here!” he cried.
only chance to save the young lady.”

“Wow!” squalled Sweet William, as he began to draw
“We're ther boys ter do it!”

All the men began to pull; tightening the lariats pain-
fully about the body of the scout.

As they thus drew in on the lariats and began to drag
him from the saddle, he drew in on the lariat that was
round the body of the girl.

“Thais he

Her downward motion was stopped.
“Haut-away ! he yelled’

a9

“But we're li’ble ter cut ye in two, Buffler,’ objected
Sweet William.

“Hatil away; I can stand it.”

They hauled away.

Yet it was not an easy pull for all of them together.

“Boyees,’ puffed the miner,
we kills Buffler Bill, who is ther whitest man in ten
States, and can’t be spared; but ther young lady has got
ter be saved.”

“Haul away!” roared the men.

Slowly, very slowly, drawn by the scout, the body of
the girl came out of the quicksand.

She seemed to have lost consciousness; and even Buf-
falo Bil, looking at her, began to fear that the excite-
ment, and the pain she was probably now enduring, had
been too much for her strength. A dead woman could
not have looked more limp and white.

However, nothing else could be done, and if they could
not rescue her alive they could rescue her body from
that horrible grave of sand which yawned hungrily for it.

Slowly, slowly, foot by foot, the scout was drawn
shoreward, and with him came the girl.

When her body had been drawn from the sand, the
work was as good as accomplished; the rest was easy,
and in a little while both the scout and the girl were
out of the horrible sand and on the dry, secure ground.

Buffalo Bill was himself almost too weak.to cast cf

the lariats that had drawn him to: the shore.

“weve got ter doit, ef”

 

 

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-

CHAPTER IV.
LUCY LAWRENCE.

“Ther devil has disappeared !”’

This exclamation was drawn from Sweet William by
the discovery that the armored bandit was not to be seen.

The attention of not only Sweet William, but of all
the men, had been drawn so closely to Buffalo Bill and
the girl that the course pursued by the miscreant who had
tried to carry the girl away had not been observed.

But now that the girl was showing signs of returning
consciousness, Sweet William had thought to locate the
position of the» »mysterious horseman.

‘Then~he discovered that he was gone.

“Hopes he’s sunk hisself in the quicksand lake!” said
Sweet William, voicing the wish of every man there.

““Baut I bet he ain’t!’ said another. “The devil allus
takes ‘keer o’ his own.” ;

Whether the man had missed the path and sunk into
the lake, or whether he had reached the further shore in
safety, could not now be determined.

“Ef he got acrost he moved rapid,’ Sweet William de-

clared. “I’m hopin’ ther cussed quicksand got him.”

Buffalo Bill, having recovered almost wholly himself,

was giving his attention to the girl.

One of the men had produced a small flask of brandy,
and some of this the scout administered.

When she opened her eyes and saw these men about her
and recalled her terrible experiences, she seemed again on
the point of swooning.

“Oh, that horrible sand!” she moaned.

‘You are perfectly safe now, my dear young lady!’
said the scout, with solicitude. ‘We are friends, and
you are perfectly safe.”

She lifted herself and looked about, her eyes still filled
with fright. Her face was pale as death, and her lips
were bloodless. Yet the scout saw that, under ordinary
circumstances, she must be a cee beautiful girl.

“Oh, that man!” she groaned.

“He has gone; he cannot harm you now.”

He placed under her head a coat given to him by
Sweet William, and propped her in a half-sitting posi-
tion. ,

“Young leddy, you’re all right,” said Sweet William.
“I’m sw’arin’ it; and ter prove ter you that you're fall
right, I simply says ter you that ther handsome gentle-
man, with the sand-mussed clo’es, who is administerin’ ter
you, and resked his life ter save you, is Buffler Bill!”

A faint flush came to the girl’s pale cheeks.

_ She looked earnestly at the scout.

“I have heard that name!’

“T am at your service, miss!” said the scout, gallantly.
“Tf you will tell us where your home is, we will escort
Pyou to it.”

pie sat

THE BUFFALO

   

DILL STORIES.

She looked at him again earnestly.
“T thank you for that, and for saving my life.

I have
heard of you, and now I know that the stories of your
bravery have not Soe too highly colored. You risked
your life to save me.’

“He suttinly did, miss!” declared Sweet William.

“There was some risk,” the scout admitted. “But not
so great as you may think. I saw what could be done,
what must be done, and I simply did it, as any other man
would have done.”

“But we t’other ones didn’t seem ter have ther brains
to see quick jist what should be done,” commented the
irrepressible miner, whose admiration for the gallant scout
knew no bounds.

The girl appeared to gain in strength constantly. _

She rose to a sitting posture and glared with a shud-
der out over the shining expanse of sand.

“His horse is gone, too!” she said, in surprise.

“Yas, ther sand got it!’ was the answer of the miner.

Not a living thing was to be seen on the sandy ex-
panse.

It was a white and shining lake of death; a lake that
looked to be solid ground, but into which three horses
had disappeared, and, so far as the men on the shore knew,
the bandit also.

‘We have lost two horses,” said the scout, “but there
are more here. I have a horse of my own, which I left
on the high ledge over the canyon when I saw that villain
catrying you away.”

m2

His statement, though it imparted information, - had
somewhat the tone of a question.

“You want to know how I came to be carried away?
she gasped, her face turning white again. “Oh, it was
horrible!”

“Do not tell it, if it distresses you.”

“But you have a right to know. » My home is the Lone
Star Ranch, where my old guardian was murdered a few
days ago. After that I was afraid to stay alone, and |
got a Mexican woman to remain with me for a time.”

She covered her face with her hands as if to shut out
from her memory some horrible picture.

“This morning that masked man came to the ranch,
where I-was alone, for the Mexican woman had gone
back to her home, and seizing me; threw me on that horse
and rode away with me.”

“He shall be hunted down for that,”

He looked at her intently.

“VYouneed the comfort of a fire, and good, dry clothing,
and other attentions. These men will escort you at once
to yotir home, and will send you another servant, and
some of them will stay by you a a time.”

“Oh, I cannot live there again.”

She looked at him earnestly.

said the scout.

       
 
   

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“But I must stay there; I must find out who slew my
old guardian and my father.”

One of the miners brought forward a horse.

Its an easy goer,” he said, “and you'll be as safe
on it as if you was ridin’ in a feather bed.”

“Tf you will pardon me, miss,” said the scout, “I will
get my own horse, while these men are escorting you
home; he is on that high cliff, and some harm may come to
him if he is left there too long.” :

“Oh, I believe, in my excitement, I have neglected to
tell you my name!’ :

She glanced around.

“T said my home is the Lone Star Ranch; my name is
Lucy Lawrence.”

The talkative miner pranced forward, bowing low and
cutting a comical figure.

“And I air Sweet William,” he said, with an air of
importance. “An’ these hyar friends of mine, sich as I
know, air Piute Bill, Pertater Murphy and Lodestone
Ike, and this hyar gentleman with ther citizen’s clothes
we calls Mr. Marston.”

~The other men unnamed did not introduce themselves,
but their eyes were kindly.

“And now if you'll mount the horse,’ said the scout,

“these men are ready to act as your escort.”

He assisted her to rise.

“Have you strength to ride?”

“Oh, I am strong again; it gives me strength to know
that I escaped from that man, and am now to leave this
horrible place.”

He held out his hand and assisted her to the back
of the horse.

As he did so, bending over her head, she contrived to
whisper :

“T want*you to come to my house as soon as you can;
I have a feeling that you, Buffalo Bill, are just the man
to investigate some mysterious things for me. You are
a brave man, and I fancy bravery will be needed.”

‘There was something strange in her voice and manner.
” he said.

The other men mounted, some of them riding double;
and in a little while the girl’s escort rode away with her
in their midst.

“You have my promise,

Nays

Two persons remained behind—Buffalo Bill, and his
miner friend, Sweet William.

“Pard, I ain’t seen ye fer so long that I ain't ready
to separate frum ye in a big hurry,” said Sweet William,
when the girl and her escort were gone. “What does yer
think of this hyar case?’

“T haven’t had time to think.”
“Waal, I kin tell yer what I knows.”
He looked out over the treacherous lake, where some

THE BUREALO BILL. STORIES.

  

currents of air were waltzing the light upper sand about
in tiny spirals.

“I knows, in the fust place, that air is a lake o’ death.
I’ve been in this section a good many times. Thar never
war but three men tried ter cross it within my recklection,
er sence ther character of it become known to ther men 0’
ther silver camp. One of them, Mike Kennedy, went
under, an’ I reckons he’s still under; the second in my
mind war you, an’ we drug you out; the third war that
devil that seems to know jist whar to set his hoofs.”

“You omit the girl.”

“She didn’t try ter go, she was took; and, besides, she
amt aden, Dut a eal

He was still looking at the treacherous quicksands.

“Over thar some’eres, beyond that sand, I reckons this
hyar devil we war chasin’ has got a hole o’ some kind,
to which he runs like ther fox does when he’s chased.
He’s either in that hole now, er he’s in the late’ I’m
hopin’ ther lake got him.”

“T don’t think it did.”

“Ye don't?:

“He knows the way too well, as he showed while we
were watching him.”

“Yhen he’s over thar; but we can’t git him.”

“He can’t stay there always; well get him when he
comes out.”

“Only way ter git him, Buffler, I reckons would be ter
rope him. Ef a feller could git his lariat over him he
could be pulled off his hoss. The hoss he war ridin’ went
inter the sand, same as mine did; but he can git another,

same’s I intend ter.”

“Not as you intend to; he'll steal his.”

“Yes, that’s so, Buffler; an’ now we'll look fer your
hoss, fore that devil gits out o’ his hole an’ has a chance
ter corral him. It would be a pizen shame ef a hoss that
you've straddled should fall inter the hands of a cuss
like that.”

“Yes, we must look after my horse at once.”

‘The scout turned from the lake, not without many. a
backward glance, for it was horribly fascinating, and

accompanied by the miner walked back along the canyon
through which the wild chase had led

CHAPTER | Ve.
FURTHER SURPRISES.

As he thus walked up the canyon trail with the miner,
Buffalo Bill for the first time recalled the sting of the
bullet which had been fired at him by the man in armor.

He stopped and put a hand to his shoulder.

“Hurted, Buffler?” asked Sweet William, anxiously.

“T think not; but when that rascal shot at me in here

 
    
  
  
   

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horse fondly.

THE, BUPEALO

his bullet went through my coat and stung me a trifle;
you can see the hole in the coat here.”

‘An’ you never said a thing about it?’

“I forgot all about it, to tell the truth; I think it’s of
no consequence.”

Nevertheless, he stripped off his upper garments, and —

the wound was inspected.

It was, as he had said, but a trifle, a blistered scratch,
where the bullet had sped its course. But the flesh had
become inflamed about it. It was this irritation, and his
approach to the place where the shot had been fired, that
had recalled to him the fact of the shooting.

“It’s nothing at all,” he declared, stooping by the side
of a clear, cold rivulet and bathing the wound.

Then he readjusted his clothing, and went on with
the miner.

By a difficult way they climbed to the ledge where
Midnight had been left; and they found that the horse had
not stirred a dozen steps.

“Faithful old Midnight!” said the scout, patting the
“I wonder how long you would have re-
mained here for me?”

“Pard Buffler, ef I had a hoss like that I’d keep him
ter home in a livery stable.”

“Just why ?”’

“Waal, I'd think so much of him that I wouldn’t want
ter run the resk of him gittin’ hurted. He’d have a better
chance thar fer a long life than in these hyar mountains,
an’ I’d want him ter live forever.”’

“Midnight deserves a long life, if ever any horse did.”

Again he fondled and petted the faithful and intelligent
animal.

“Now, ye must be getting down from here.”

“You ain't goin’ ahead along ther trail?”

“Not just now. I am going back to the edge of the
quicksand lake; and then I shall follow ue trail of that
girl’s escort. She wants to see me again.”

“I knowed,that well enough—well’s I’ll ever know any-
thing !”

“You didn’t hear her make her request for me to visit
her at her ranch?” said the scout, in some surprise.

“No, I didn’t hear that, Buffler; but I seen ther looks
she give you. Ef you war a younger man and single, I’d
say she war reachin’ out ter hook you inter the blisterful
realm o’ matrimony.”

Sweet William cackled over this as if he had conceived
a great idea or made a great discovery.

“You’re mistaken entirely in her intentions, William;
she wants to see if I can clear up certain mysteries she
spoke of. Her guardian and her father have been mur-
dered, you'll remember she said; and then there is the

_ mystery of this armored chap who swooped down and car-

ried her off.”

 

    

BILE STORIES.

‘Do you think it war ther same feller each time?”

“T don’t know. Now, we'll get down from this ledge.”

Going on for some distance in the way he had been
going originally, the scout found a point down which
he could conduct the horse.

None but a mountain-trained animal could have gone
down that way, but Midnight seemed nearly as good at
work of this kind as if he were a man; he showed almost
human intelligence, bracing himself, sliding, jumping, and
picking his way over rocks and fissures.

At this point the face of the cliff was pitted with large
holes, some of which seemed the entrances to caves.

The route taken was so precipitous, and the work of
descending with the horse into the canyon was necessarily
so slow, that a long time elapsed before they neared the.
canyon trail; though Buffalo Bill himself, sliding and
falling, and assisted by the rope, had before made the
descent in a very few minutes.

At times the scout had to pass his lariat about Mid-
night’s body and both men were forced to hold to it
with. all their strength to keep the horse from falling on
the steep inclines.

They were engaged in work of this kind, and were

near the lower trail, when a rifle cracked, and a bullet

plowed through the scout’s hat.

The report came so suddenly, and in the ‘confined
space the gun roared so loudly, that the horse gave a
startled leap.

The next moment he was foe and rolling down
into the canyon trail.

Releasing the rope, Buffalo Bill turned like a flash.

His revolver sounded.

He had caught a glimpse of the disappearing form of
the armored horseman. The shot which had gone through
the scout’s hat had come from the weapon of this man.

The armored man dodged like a rabbit, and the shot
from the scout’s pistol merely chipped the rock where
the strangely covered head disappeared.

At almost the same instant Sweet William bellowed:

“Looky thar!’

An Indian head was seen for just an instant; then a
tomahawk came whizzing through the air. It was hurled
at the scout, and but for that sharp warning from Sweet
William it would have struck its mark.

Buffalo Bill dodged back just in time to escape it,
and fired at the Indian.

But the savage was gone like a flash. :

“Jeerusalem!” Sweet William gurgled. “Buffler, I
reckons we'd better hike out o’ hyar. What with bandit
bullets and Injun Hou as this hyar climate i is gittin’
too torrid fer me.’

He had his revolver out; and the two men stood, wait-
ing thus, with weapons ready. ©

 

  
     
  
   
   
    
  
    
   
   
  
    
    
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
     
    
   
  
   
     
         
          

10 THE BUFFALO

Midnight, having rolled and slipped to the bottom of
the canyon, had gained his feet} and was standing, staring
about as if he wondered how he’ happened to be there.

Fot a full minute the scout and the miner stood like
a pair of statues, and not a thing occurred. Then a bird

began to sing on a tree branch near the top of the canyon.

“They're gone,’ said the scout, when he heard that
bird note.
‘“Mebbe it’s them signalin’ to each other ?”

“No, that’s a eae bird note; they slipped out of

sight somewhere.”

=

an. outlaw who is called Wyoming Tom.

“Wow! But things war interestin’ fer a minute! p

“Your steel-clad bandit didn’t go into the depths of
the quicksand lake,” remarked the scout, dryly.

He stooped over and picked up the Indian tomahawk,
which, rebounding from a rock, had dropped at his feet.

“No, he didn’t fer a fact; he back-tracked on us some-
way.”

“And tried to kill me!”

The scout attentively examined the tomahawk.

“You saw that Indian, Sweet William?”

“TI seen him so’s I could identerfy him ag’in ef I ever
run acrost him. ue war blind of one eye. Mebbe that’s
why he missed ye.”

“Ele wasted his tomahawk by pitching it at me.’

Buffalo Bill looked longingly at the cliffs where the
“bandit and the Indian had vanished. It seemed useless
to go in pursuit of them now; it might even be suicidal;
for, from some ledge or cliff they would have another
chance to fire at the scout or hurl a tomahawk at him.

“We'll do as we were doing; go down into the canyon,
and then on toward the quicksand lake.”’

The scout tucked the tomahawk into his belt and be-

gan to descend again; and the miner imitated his ex-_

ample, climbing down at his side.

“Buffler, [m all mixed BD I’m tree ter aay that I’m as
twisted as a fiddle string.”

“Sweet William, I know I can trust you!’

“Yer can, Buffler, till ther world ends.”

“I was sure of it. Now, Ill say to you that 1 know
who that Indian is. And it makes me think I know who
this steel-clad rascal is, too.” |

‘Wow! ye don’t mean it P’
I came out here to hunt down
I have never
seen him; but an Indian with one eye is his constant com-
panion; and that Indian I’ve run up against once before,
when I was pursuing this bandit in another part of the
State. Wyoming Tom is said to be a young man, pale-
faced, and rather handsome; that’s as good a description
as I have,of him. [t is said that he and this” Indian,
Blackfoot Joe, are“inseparable; and both are known to
be in this section ‘of the country. Wyoming Tom is a

“Just that—I mean ‘it.

BILE: STORIES.

noted outlaw; and I am commissioned by the authorities
of the
murders and robberies he has committed.’

“#e ‘Then yer thinks that this devil that run away with

ther gal is your man—Wyoming Tom?”

“It begins to seem so, don’t you think?”

“And he knows you're after him?”

“He is supposed to know it. That would be reason
enough for him to want to kill me, as, he just now tried
to do.” e

They were now down to the canyon trail, and the scout
stepped up to the horse. As he did so another shot
sounded; but it came from far up the cliff,and the bullet
rattled on the rocks high above his head.

“Ther devil has got it in fer ye sart’in!”

“I don’t intend to get myself killed by following him
up there,” said the scout. “Now mount up behind me,
Sweet William. This horse carries double, and even
quadruple when necessary. We'll cut out of here before
that rascal gets a good line on us.”

It was never the nature of Buffalo Bill to beat a retreat

from any danger; but caution ever’became him; and he
knew that the risk would be great, and time would be
wasted, if he sought for the outlaw and his Indian com-
panion among those high rocks.

Returning once more to the edge of the quicksand lake,
the scout and the miner saw it stretched out again be-
fore them as a sheet of gleaming, white sand. It was as
peaceful and quiet as if no dark deed of blood and treach-
ery had ever been committed upon it or near it.

“That thar quicksand is jist like some human critters
I’ve knowed,” declared Sweet William. “They looked as
quiet and innercent as a smilin’ infant; yit they had knives
up thar sleeves and pistols in their pockets ready ter do
murder with. It gives me ther creeps ter look at it; fer I
knows that my good old hoss that carried me over many
miles . sleepin’ under that sand an’ will never wake up
ag’in.’ :

AD beyond the sand eeewher i is the secret retreat
of this mysterious, mail-clad horseman!”

They were about to turn away from the lake when the
scout was startled by seeing an Indian head feather duck
down behind the rocks some distance away.

Nevertheless, he wheeled his horse but slowly, as if
he had seen nothing at all.

“Did you observe anything, Sweet William?” he asked,
softly, leaning forward to stroke the neck of Midnight
in the most careless manner.

“That cussed lake; I’m seein’ that all right!”

“Nothing else?”

“Nary ao) thing, ‘cept that hawk sailin’ up thar in
ther sky.’

“Well, keep quiet; that Indian is over there behind

tate to hunt him to the death for a number of

 

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those rocks. Don’t let him discover that we know it,
and we may be able to capture him.”

Sweet William could hardly conceal his surprise.

“Ther devil has follered us!”

Ses 2

“And ther man that wears the iron clo’es is likely
with him.”

“T think so.”

“We're riskin’ a shot by ridin’ toward them skunks,
Buffler.”

“Perhaps so; but we have to take risks every day.”

He rode ahead as if no thought of suspicion lay in
his mind.

When opposite the rocks where he had seen the Indian
head feather he drew rein suddenly, and, leaping to the
ground, ran toward them.

Sweet William sat on the horse -the men had been rid-
ing double, it will be remembered—and held his revolver
ready.

A moment later he heard Buffalo Bill’s voice.

“Come up here!”

Leaving the horse standing in the trail, Sweet William

obeyed.

“He is gone; but there is a moccasin print.
if we can follow it.”

“They may git yer hoss while we’re up hyar!’

“We'll have to risk that. too.’

' The moccasin tracks disappeared entirely on the sur-
face of the flinty granite.

But, observing the direction in which they had trended,
the scout walked ahead, looking this way and that for
more tracks, or some place into which the Indian might
have scurried.

We'll see

As he thus moved on quickly, with Sweet° William
trailing at his heels, he saw before him an opening like
the dark mouth of a cave.

“It’s a trap,” said Sweet William, drawing back.

“We've got to find out whether it is or not.”

‘“‘Buffler, I’m with yer till ther cows come home, as I
said I'd be; whar you go I kin foller.”

Entering the cave, half expecting a shot or shots,
they found only darkness.

As they advanced a light showed further on.

“The cave is a tunnel, and it comes to an end there,
Hello!’

The scout stenned short.

Before him a man had risen, as if from the ground,
and was now trying to slip into a dark hole in the side
of the tunnel. He limped slightly. With a bound the
scout was on him and hurled him to the ground. He
fell almost within the further mouth of the rocky tunnel,
so that the daylight entering there struck full in his
face.

if

Sears X ba \ i
pn tt oc ee Oy ea ee

THE BUFFALO

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I a a hr a aR oad YD a De re ep Tn Seg ee eater

    

BIET STORIES, tT

It was +the pale face of a young man, with handsome,
clear, blue eyes, a straight nose, and comely appearance.

He had limped, as the scout saw; and now, looking at

him closely and drawing up the trousers leg, the scout
discovered that he was slightly wounded.

“Who are you?’ was the scout’s question.

His voice was harsh and stern.

“Tam Jason Strong.”

“Buffler,’ said Sweet William, while his voice thrilled
strangely, “ef you ain’t got the man that wears the sheet-
iron clo’es I’m guessin’ that you’ve got the man ther
Vigilantes wants down in ther minin’ camp.”

The young man, hearing that, struggled fiercely in
the scout’s hands; but Buffalo Bill was entirely too strong
for him, and he dropped back again, gasping and weak.

The scout stood up before him, covering him with his
revolver.

“What have you to say to that?” he demanded.

“He is mistaken, that’s all.”

Sweet William looked the youth straight in the face.

“Buffer, I thinks I knows a few more things than I
did.’ You recklect that young lady said her guardian an’
her dad had been murdered? It war fer ther killin’ of an-
old man that lived on a ranch up hyar that ther Vigilantes
war after this cub. He jumped inter these hills, and
they couldn’t git him.”

The face of the youth became deathly pale.

“What have you to say to this?” the scout asked,
sternly.

“Nothing, except that it isn’t true.
one.’

“Did you ever wear steel-clad armor?’

“Never !”

The tones were ringing and resolute.

“You swear that ?”

“T would swear it on a stack of Bibles, if necessary.”

“Do you’know an Indian with one eye who goes by the
name of Blackfoot Joe?’

“T never even heard of him,’

LWowle

Sweet William squalled the exclamation; and as he
did so he fell forward on his face.

Wheeling, Buffalo Bill ducked down his head to escape
a flying stone, and saw the Indian dancing out at the other
end of the rocky tunnel.

The scout’s revolver was already in his hand, and at
the Indian he let drive.

The report sounded in that confined space like a can-
non and the smoke drifted as if it were a blue fog.

I never killed any-

’ the youth asserted.

Springing to his feet Sweet William darted in pursuit
of the savage who had bowled him over with the stone.

The scout was about to follow, then decided to remain
with the youth and see that he did not escape.

     

      
  

Te turned and looked down through the blue powder
smoke at the spot where the youth had lain.

THe was gone.

Though the scout and Sweet William made a noon”
search of the rocky tunnel, and of all the rocky slopes near
by, they could discover neither the Indian nor the youth
who had fled.

When they reached the trail they found the horse still
there, waiting with patience until they should return.

The day was fast passing.

“The shore of this quicksand lake is where I must
do some watching,” said Buffalo Bill, speaking to Sweet
William; “but I promised that young woman to call on
her, and I shall keep that promise. To-morrow I shall
come here; and here I shall remain until I get some oi
on this mystery.” ‘

“That young feller war the devil we’ re lookin’ fer,
Buffler !” ;

“We haven’t positive proof of it.”

“He was wounded in one leg; and you recklect that
the bandit limped, after he was shot at out on the
quicksand.”

“Li recall that dact periectly,” — .

“And ther outlaw you come to these parts ter git allus
went round with an Injun with one eye!”

es :

“Then, Buffler, it’s clar ter me that the chap that wears
ther pot-metal clo’es, and this young feller we found in
that hole, and the man you’ve come down hyar huntin’
fer, air one an’ the same person. Don't it look like it?”

“It looks like it; but stil! we may be mistaken.”

“Buffler, thar’s one thing I ain’t mistook in.
one thing I’m dead sartin shore about.”

“Whatis that?’

“The young feller with the wounded leg which we
found in thar is ther young feller ther Vigilantes is
wantin’ ter put their paws on. He killed an old man
up hyar in this section; and I’m bettin’ that handsome
saddle you’re goin’ ter give me that ther old man he killed ©
is ther same one which the young lady spoke of and
called her guardian.”

Thar’s

 

CHAPTER V1.
THE GIRLS SHE RE tT.

When Buffalo Bill and Sweet William, following the
trail left by the girl’s escort, approached the ranch house
which was her home, night was at hand, for the distance
was considerable and they had already spent much time.

On riding up to the log house, a strong structure fitted
to resist attack, they found but one of the party there.
The other members of the escort body had returned to the
silver camp some distance away.

\

LS nara eRe ae aN aa eA eae

Spa Selec UAT Sia AR ARS aA

 

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. .-.. oe

But they had sent up a rheumatic old man and an
equally rheumatic old woman to remain with the girl
and act as her servants. '

Lucy Lawrence, recovered apparently from the results
of her unpleasant experience, sat at the one window which
commanded a view on that side of the ranch house; and

-when she beheld the scout and the miner, she rose hur-

riedly and came out into the yard to greet them.

She was dressed simply, but becomingly now, and
seemed an entirely different creature. She was a hand-
some girl, as they could see; yet there was about her
a certain appearance of sadness which would have im-
pressed almost any beholder.

““T am so glad to see you!” she declared, speaking to”

the scout. “‘I have been thinking of you all day—or,
rather, ever since that terrible time down at the quicksand
lake.” |

Sweet William winked slyly to himself.

“It's a curious thing,’ he muttered, “but ther females
allus likes Buffler.
I'd take a shine ter him myself, he’s so durned hand-
some !”

Lodestone Ike was the miner who had remained, and
he greeted Sweet William joyously.

“Gittin’ kinder tiresome hyar,” he said; “‘so it makes me
sorto’ glad that you two have come. Ill be ridin’ fer the
camp now, if you don’t mind.’

He galloped off before Buffalo Bill could protest.

The rheumatic old man hobbled out ‘to take charge of
Midnight.

The faithful horse breathed deeply and gratefully, when
relieved of the double burden he had carried so many
hours.

Buffalo Bill, oe by the girl, entered the house,
followed by Sweet William, who glanced keenly around,
noting everything, in his inquisitive way. _

Sweet William saw that this was a roomy, rambling,
and stout ranch house, built with extra heavy walls of
logs, and loopholed all round for rifles. The room into
which he and the scout had been conducted was the one
in which the young woman had been sitting—the one

with the single window looking out on the rocky heights.

“You have ridden far, and have been through fearful

. exertions to-day, and you must not think of doing or say-

ing anything until you have had something to eat,”
she insisted. ; :

She went to a door opening into another room and
called to the old servant.

Then with her own hands she spread a white cloth on
the table in the center of the room.

“T knew you would keep your promise and come as soon ©

as you could,” she declared, as she went about this work;

Yit it ain’t curious; ef | war a woman.

“and, of course, 1 more than half expected you would

 

   
 

   
    
   
     
 

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THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. 12

be accompanied by your friend. You are both truly wel-
come; and when I have told you my story, which I shall
do soon, I am persuaded you will think it was not strange
when I begged you to come.”

The old woman bustled into the room, bearing a tray;
and then bustled out again.

Buffalo Bill conversed pleasantly with the girl who
had given her name as Lucy Lawrence, and whom he had
come so far.to see in response to her urgent whispered

‘request; yet he said nothing of the subjects that were

uppermost in his mind as well as in hers.

But when the meal had been finished and was cleared
away, he ventured to put a direct question, and so im-
part some information :

“You wanted me to come as soon as possible, I believe ?
We should have been here earHer, but for certain un-
avoidable delays.”

When he told her how these delays had come about
she became suddenly and strangely agitated.

“No, no!” she cried, “you are mistaken about that
young man; it is not possible that he was the mailed
man! I happen to know better.”

Sweet William could not repress a whistle of astonish-
ment.

“Of course, Miss Lawrence,’ said Buffalo Bill,
quite likely that you have some information about him that
we do not possess.”

“Let me tell you my strange story, and then you may
judge,” she urged.

“T shall be only too happy to hear it.”

“It is what I desired you to come for; and that you
might help me, after you have heard it.”

The scout nodded assent.

“Go on,’’ he said. '

“Put out of your minds for a little time the see:
sion you have unjustly come to: at Jason Strong is the
mailed man!’

“Then his name is Jason Strong!” the scout exclaimed,
while Sweet William again blew out a low whistle of as-
tonishment.

‘it 15

“Yes, that is the name of the young man you found
in that rocky tunnel.”

Her eyes filled suddenly with tears.

“I wish you had treated him kindly, and I wish I
could help ae He is perfectly innocent, and an honest
young man.’

Sweet William was twisting uneasily 3 in his chair.

“Yer parding, miss!” he said.

She turned toward him.

“I don’t want ter say anything ter hurt yer feelin’s,
but that feller we found thar is ther young feller ther
Vigilantes was hot after t’other day. I know that.”

“Yes, the Vigilantes from the silver camp below pur-

sued him the other day. But let me explain. They got

“the foolish notion in their heads that he was the one who

killed my guardian. When he ventured down to the
camp they set on him, and if he had not slipped out of
their hands they would have hung him.”

“T was thar, miss,’ Sweet William acknowledged. “I
knowed he war ther same feller, an’ I said so ter Buffler
Bill.” :

“But I still say he is innocent. I haven’t seen him since
that time, for he is afraid to come near the ranch house
now. I suppose he thinks some of the Vigilantes will be
watching for him here. So, as near as I can learn, he
has been hiding: among the hills. One man who saw
him day before yesterday told me that he took a shot at
him, and thought he crippled him.”

Lucy Lawrence had become so much ee that her
eyes brimmed over with tears, while her voice so choked
that she could not at once go on.

Buffalo Bill, being a keen observer and a good reader
of human nature, saw that this young woman was in love
with Jason Strong.

Yet, to his mind, that did ne show that Strong had
not slain her guardian and did not deserve to be lynched
by the Vigilantes; it only showed that she believed him
to be innocent.

He waited quietly for her to go on.

“T must begin at the beginning, or you won't be able
to understand my story, I’m afraid,’ she urged, as she
continued :

“Several years ago my father came here and built this
ranch house. It was, and is, a wild country; and he built
the house strong because of the danger. Some of the
walls are double; and all are loopholed, as you see, for
rifles. He was afraid of Indians, who at that time were
somewhat troublesome.

“Later, my father’s brother, Snyder Lawrence-——my
father’s name was Mason Lawrence—came to live with
us here.

“My father had great mechanical and inventive genius.
He liked to roam about the mountains, and he loved the
strange, wild life he found here. He was very much fas-
cinated by the mysterious quicksand lake, which some
men call the Devil’s Basin, and he spent much time on its
shores, and in wandering through the hills behind it.

“All this time he was working on various inventions,
which he said would make him wealthy. I think the soli-
tude and the strange silence of the hills, and, above. all,
the queer fascination of that lake, gradually unhinged his
mind. I don’t know about that, but he came: to act
queerly. ae

“One evening he brought home a shining piece of metal.

“He said he had found a quantity of it on a little island
at the further corner of the quicksand lake. It was like

  

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14 THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

aluminum, very bright, very strong, and very light; it’s
weight seemed no greater than paper.

“He got more of it; and he built some sort of a smel-
ter, or furnace, over there, and manufactured it.”

Sweet William was twisting again.

“Beg yer parding!”

She looked at him.

oNes i)

“How did yer old man git over to that island acrost
ther quicksand ?” :

“Oh, yes; | omittedto mention: that! Ele found 4
granite ridge that lay just underneath the quicksand.
It took him a long time to follow out that path, which he
did by prodding with a pole.”

She observed now: that Buffalo Bill. was looking
strangely at her.

“T understand your thought,’
don’t think it: for a moment;
father !”

“T didn’t say that he was,” said the scout.

“No, but I could see it in your face.”

The scout smiled—for once his face had betrayed him.

“Now, I will go on. Let me see, where was I?”

she said to him, “but
that bandit is not my

“You were speaking of the furnace and the manufac-

ture of that new metal.”

“Yes, to be sure! Father had always been afraid of
thieves and Indians; and he made for himself a protect-
ing armor out of that metal.’

Again Sweet Willtam began to twist in his chair; but
this time he contrived to keep his mouth closed.

“One day my father disappeared. He had been out
with his brother. They were walking along the shore of
the quicksand lake, when a man rose up from behind a
rock and struck my father to the earth with some heavy
weapon. My uncle, who was a timid man, turned to flee;
and being shot at by the man did not stop to look back.
We never saw my father after that. But shortly after-
ward this bandit horseman, oe in armor—my father’s
armor—tmade his appearance.”

Even Buffalo Bill drew a deep breath, as he heard this
astonishing statement.

“T am not through with my remarkable story,” the girl
went on. “After the death of my father my uncle for
some time was so afraid to go out that he only left the
house when darkness had fallen. Gradually he began to
treat me with horrible cruelty. He abused me and swore
ate.

“Ther old devil!’ exclaimed Sipbee William.-

“T don’t know what I should have done had it not
been for Jason Strong. He came here one day seeking
work, and was given a place, for we needed help. He was
a fine young man, handsome, accomplished; I came to
like him very much; and when my guardian—that is,

my father’s brother—became overabusive, Jason pro-
tected him from me.

“Of course, this could not last. My father’s brother
was really supporting me, for my father left me penniless,
having ‘squandered all his money on his various inven-
tions. I don’t know where my uncle got his money, but
he always appeared to have plenty. And he told me he

would care for me while he lived.

“But he became so abusive that he and Jason had a
series of quarrels. Then he was killed one day. - As this
man knows, Jason was accused of the murder; and the
Vigilantes tried to get him, which is the reason he is
now in hiding.”

There were a number of questions stirring in the mind
of the scout.

Putting them aside, he aed only one:

“Tell me, please, just what you think?”

“T shall do that gladly,” she answered. “I think that
the man who is wearing that armor killed my father
and took the armor from him. He had probably just
come into the country, for the robberies I have mentioned
began about that time.

“T also think this man killed my uncle, perhaps under
the impression that he had money.

“T also think this same bandit tried to carry me off
to-day.”

“He knows the rocky way across the quicksand,” said
the scout.

“Yes; he probably learned that by watching my father
come and go across there.”

Buffalo Bill now asked another question:

“What do you desire me to do in the matter?”

“Bring that bandit to justice, and ” she stopped in
hesitation. “It is said by some that this bandit is my
own father! It is a cruel slander.. They claim that he
was never killed, but became the bandit in armor; and
they claim, further, that my uncle was in ‘with him in his

 

robberies, and that is where he got his money. But it ,

isalla base lies) |

She looked at the scout imploringly.

“T want you to clear this stain from my father’s mem-
ory, by discovering just who that bandit is and bringing
him to justice. Do you think for an instant that my own
father would try to carry me away, as that man did
to-day? The idea is absurd. Will you help me in this
matter ?”’ -

>

“Miss Lawrence,’ said the scout, and his voice was
very sober, “I will go to the bottom of this mystery for
you; and my good friend here, who rejoices in the name
of Sweet William, will help me.”

“Right ye air, Buffler!” said the miner, earnestly. “I
air got a leetle free time on my hands now, and I'd as
soon spend it in this way as not.”

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

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THE: BUFFALO

“Oh, I thank you—I thank you!” cried the girl. y“T
want this mystery probed to the bottom, and this slander
against my father swept away.”

“We will do all we can, Miss Lawrence,
promised.

be

the scout

 

CHAPTER VIU>~
SHOTS FROM THE DARK.

While Lucy Lawrence was thus talking with Buffalo
Bill and his companion a strangely helmeted head was

pressed close ip against the window, in a listening atti- ?

tude.
The armored*man had but a moment before slipped up
to the ranch house through the darkness.

He heard the scout promise to go to the bottom of the
strange mystery.

Then a revolver showed in his mail-clad hand; and the
next instant a bullet came crashing through the window,
shattering the pane.

It grazed the head of the scout and buried itself in
the log wall behind him, not a foot from where the young
woman was sitting.

“Teerusalem!’’ cried the miner, springing to his feet
as if a hot needle had been prodded into him. “Wow!”
thar he goes!”

The revolver outside flashed again, and by its light
the miner saw the helmeted head.

But again the mailed man had missed, for Buffalo Bill
was in motion now, leaping toward the door.

“Hold thar, Buffler!” yelled Sweet William. “Ther
cuss will down ye when yer jumps to ther outside.”

The scout did not heed the warning.

He threw the door open and sprang out into the night,

Sweet William came tumbling at his heels.

A dark form was seen running across the level ground
in the direction of the timbered and rocky ridges that
rose round the house.

Buffalo Bill and the miner fired at it; but it sped on,
as light of. foot as if it bore no metal armor.

In another moment it was gone.

“Wow!” squalled the excitable miner.
foller him?” :

“No,” said the scout.

He saw that in the darkness pursuit would be useless.

He turned back to the doorway, walking quickly and
moving in a sort of zigzag, for he half expected that
another bullet would be sent after him.

Lucy Lawrence had come to the door, and stood there,
pale and agitated.

“Who was it? What was it?’ she demanded,

“You will be safer, my dear young lady, if you will
stand back out of the light,” said the scout.

Shall) we

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BILL STORIES. 15

She retreated, and he followed her into the house, clos.
ing the door and barring it as soon as*Sweet William had
entered.

The girl was white with fear.

“Some one shot at you!”

“Yes, and came near getting me.”

-The scout passed his hand over his head, where he
had felt the wind of the bullet.
“An inch lower would have done for me.”

He moved his chair away from its original position:
and then, after glancing at the lamp, also moved that,
putting it in another corner of the room.

“He may want to come back and try that over,” he said,
in explanation. “We'll make the light as bad for him
as possible, if he should attempt it.”

“Wow!” said Sweet William. “It war the feller that
wears the sheet-iron clo’es.”’

“Yes, I know it; I got a good look at him; and I’m~
sure that my bullets hit him; but that armor seems to be
a good protection, for he ran right on.”

The girl put up her hands, half covering her face, as
if she would shut out some terrible sight.

“Oh, that man!” she exclaimed.

Sweet William looked at her earnestly.

“I has some private opinions, which I air holdin’ to
good an’ hard!”

“He followed you here,’
excited..

“That is quite evident,” said the scout.
us here with the intention of killing me.
doubt, I think, about that.
good luck that saved me.
so exposed in that light.”

“Buffler, thar bullet ain’t been run that kin kill you!”
Sweet William declared, with admiration.

“I shan’t take any risks to find out, Sweet William.”

The scout was watching the window. He hardly ex-
pected the armored man to appear there again, yet he was
now on his guard.

3

said the girl, still shaken and

“He followed
There isn’t any
And it was only my usual
It was reckless in me, to sit

He was thinking, too. Here was a situation that puz-
zled him. Who was the armored bandit? The fact that
the man had been seen with the one-eyed Indian seemed
to prove that he was Wyoming Tom, the man Buffalo
Bill had come to hunt down. Was ene Tom also
the youth, Jason Strong?

- To quiet the girl the scout began to talk to her again.

‘The man is gone, and he will not come back,”
serted.

ke as-
“So we needn't trouble about that any further,”

“You do not intend to leave me here alone to-night?”
she inquired, terrified by thoughts of the armored man.

“No, indeed. Sweet William and I will stay until

morning.”
“But he carried me off in broad daylight, you know !”

  
  

   

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16 THE BUPEALO

“What is to be done in the morning will be de-
termined when the morning comes; but we will see that
you have ample protection. Now, we won't think of that

any more. Perhaps you would like to'tell me something
further about your father and your uncle?’

“There is nothing further that I can think of; I am
sure they are both dead.”

“But I ain’t!” thought Sweet William.

He was looking steadily at the window, and between
his knees he held his revolver.

“T don’t think I understand just what caused the change
in your uncle’s manner toward you,” the scout suggested.
“He wasn’t always cruel to you? He was not cruel to you
before your father’s death?” .

“T think I can explain it by saying that he was always
miserly. He loved money. He got a good deal of my
father’s money by playing cards with him. And
she hesitated—‘‘I have thought that he took what money
father left in the house, if he left any. There ee to
have been some money, but I couldn’t find a cent.”

“Then you think his miserliness caused him to be harsh
to you?”

“I think so.
for one night I chanced to catch him counting it.
had a large sum—in gold and greenbacks.”’

Sweet William could hardly repress a whistle of as-
tonishment.

| “Tothink it was ‘because he had that money that the
armored bandit killed him,” she urged.

“That is possible,’ the scout admitted.

After some further talk he went outside, where he
walked quietly about in the darkness.

The armored man had disappeared, and a great silence
lay on everything. From far off camle the sharp bark
of a wolf. High in the sky shone the diamond points of
the stars. Down from the hills came cooling breezes. All
was so peaceful it seemed that crime and mystery could
have no place there. :

As the scout thus walked about the miner joined him.

“Buffler, this hyar’s ther worst mixup I ever struck.
What’s. yer opinion o’ things?”

“T have no definite opinion yet.”

“Waal I has.”

“What is it?

“Ther kid we found in that rock tunnel is ther feller
that w’ars ther pot-metal clo’es. She says that his name
is Jason Strong, and that he is all right. Jist because she

thinks he’s straight don’t make him so.”

“That last is true enough.”

““She’s tuck a fancy ter him, Buffler, an’ o’ course she'll
stand up fer him. That’s woman nater.
he killed her old uncle, an’ tuck his money; and likely he
killed her dad, an’ tuck his money. He got-the pot-

 

Yet he had plenty of money, I know;
And he

%

BILL STORIES.

aA don't: doubt

 

 

metal suit that her dad made and wore, an’ he’s w’arin’
it, and doin’ ther road agent act in it. The men o’ ther
silver camp say he killed a man up hyar, an’ they'd have
strung him ef they could ’a’ put their hands on him.
Now, another thing, Buffler.”

“You're quite a reasoner; go on!”

“The pot-metal feller was shot at, you remember, out
in the quicksand lake, and we thought he war wounded;
this young feller we found in ther rock tunnel war
wounded slightly. Wyoming Tom, that you're huntin’
fer, had a one-eyed Injun with him; and when we was
holdin? this feller the one-eyed Injun appeared and
knocked the wind out o’ me with a rock and throwed
another rock at you. And in ther excitement. of “ther
moment the young feller got away. Am I speakin’ gospel
truth so fur, Buffler ?”

“dthink. you ate.’

“I’ve figgered:in all ther facts that’s known, an’ it’s
plain that Jason Strong, and the outlaw, Wyoming Tom,
air one and the same. To my mind thar ain't ee
Clearer:

“Yet the girl is sure he is perfectly innocent.”

“Fiddlesticks, Buffler! When a gal’s in love with a
feller she’ll whitewash him into a saint even ef he’s as
black as ther devil. That young chap is Wyoming Tom,
shore as shootin’. You said he was young, an’ pale, an’
slender ; so is this young chap.”

* Tt did indeed seem that Sweet William must be ahs

CHAPTER Vit”
FURTHER STRANGE HAPPENINGS.

-« Before Buffalo Bill and Sweet William turned back into

the house they had another queer experience.

They saw a dark form emerge from a doorway of whose
existence they had no previous knowledge and glide with
stooping, stealthy motion in the direction taken by the
armored bandit.

“Looky thar!’ whispered Sweet William, clutching
the scout nervously by the arm.

“Yes, I see; we'll follow him.”

Follow the figure they did; and so swiftly that less
than a hundred yards from the house they overtook it.

With a bound the scout was on the man’s back.

‘Ug-ug-e-9-¢!” the man gurgled, as the scout’s iron-
like fingers closed on his windpipe.

When, having choked him half into insensibility, the

scout turned the man over, he was surprised to discover
that he had attacked the rheumatic servant who had been

sent up to the ranch house with his wife from the silver

camp that day.
“Ther old devil!’ gasped Sweet William, when the

      

 
  

   

 
  
 
    
  
  

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

  

  
 
   

 

   
  
 
 
  
   
 

 
   
 
  
 
  
 

 

 

ST ea hi se SS INN I ENS
LIES EOI ASE GAR NESE IEE eee Re =

BS

THE BUFFALO

scout, striking a match, held it before the man’s face, re-
vealing it. “Who'd ’a’ thought it of him?”

The man returned to consciousness almost instantly,
for the choking, effective as it had been, had not been
so serious as to render him senseless for any length of
time.
| He stared up in fright into the faces of the men bending
over him.

When he recognized the scout he tried to sit up.

“What were you doing out here?’ was Buffalo Bill’s
stern demand.

He saw that the man was armed—that he had held
‘in his hands a revolver.

“II” the man hesitated, and stared about.

“Answer my question promptly or I'll choke you again,”
threatened the scout. “We saw you sneak out of that
back door of the house and come crawling this way, and
we followed you. Now, what were you doing? What is
there out this way that you would want to look into?”

“He don’t need ter answer, Buffler,” said Sweet Wil-
liam, bitterly; “he was sneakin’ out hyar ter hand some
word to that pot-metal rascal.”

“IT am almost ready to believe it!”

“No, no, gentlemen,” the old man protested.

“What was it then? Out with it!”

“The coyote.

ihe coyote?’

“Yes, I heard one now Ting. and I thought maybe I
could get a shot at it.”

ee kyote sung his little song more’n fifteen minutes
ago,” said Sweet William, grimly, determined not to be-
lieve the old man.

“Ah! you do not want to believe me.”

Buffalo Bill stood aside and let him rise.

He got up limping and feeling tenderly of his throat.

“Gentlemen, whether you think it or not, I spoke the
truth.
see if I could get a shot at it.”

“Yet you knew that I was fired upon not so long ago
by some miscreant who ran in this direction!’

“That,was some time ago; that was some time ago.”

He stood trembling before aa as if overcome by
his fears.

“Look you here, old man,” said the scout, speaking
sternly. “For all I know to the contrary you are an
honest man; but I want to warn you that I will stand no
treachery. You may return now to the house.”
“You will give me back my weapon ?”

The scout returned it. .

For a moment the old man swayed in hesitation ; then
he turned toward the house.
he said, in a whining tone, a see that

“Gentlemen,”

I heard a coyote howl out here, and came out to .

 

Bill STORIES: : : 17

you do not believe me; yet I am innocent, and | have
spoken the truth.”

The scout and the miner watched him until he disap-
peared through the door from which he had emerged.

“Buffler, this is the curiousest trail I ever struck!’ de-
clared the suspicious miner. “It begins ter look ter me
as ef we were sent fer ter come to this cabin that we
might be killed more easy. That old critter war cert’inly
hikin’ out to say somethin’ ter the pot-metal man.’

When they re-entered the house Buffalo Bill spoke to
Lucy Lawrence, telling her what they had seen.

Her surprise was apparent.

“I know nothing about that old man,
“but now I shall be afraid of him.”

Twice more before he retired for the night the scout
went outside and watched in the darkness.

However, nothing of a suspicious character was dis-
covered.

The part of the cabin assigned to Buffalo Bill and Sweet —
William was a wing of logs, extending out from the
main building.

It had but one window, and one door in addition to
the door which connected with the main building.

Buffalo Bill and Sweet William inspected it carefully.

There were two small beds in it, and two or three
chairs, together with a small table, and a tiny closet in
the wall.

“Buffler, I don’t think that yer humble sarvint is goin’
ter do much sleepin’ this night.”

39

she declared;

“Why not? This room seems safe,”

“Yas, it do seem so; thar’s bars ter that winder, and
a key ter the doors; but jist ther same I don’t feel sleepy.
I’m goin’ ter keep one eye on ther winder and t’other on
ther doors, an’ [ll be cross-eyed ter beat the band by
mornin’, I’m ‘guessin’.”’

~. Notwithstanding this positive declaration, Sweet Wil-

liam had not been in bed an hour before he was sleeping
like the dead.

It had been a day to try his strength, and he could not
remain awake, much as he desired to.

For a long time the scout lay watching the window and
listening to the few sounds of the night. The lights were
out and the cabin was plunged in darkness.

Then, all at once, he became aware that some one other
than Sweet William was in the room with him.

He could not remember that he heard the door open,
yet the outer door was ajar; and against the black outer
background of the night he beheld the figure of a man.

“I must have been dozing even when I thought I was
wide awake. That can’t be the old man!’

He had his knife and revolver by his side winder the
bedclothing,

 
oe
po Tes asa aie et InN

<n cenmrint ansn aitimmet c: A ei e EAE te  T Ee e

18 THE BUFFALO.

He clutched the knife firmly and awaited the course
of events,

The intruder was advancing by stealthy steps toward
the bed the scout occupied; and that carried with it a
proof that he had seen the scout retire and knew which
cot he occupied.

With his nerves tingling, Buffalo Bill watched this
slow advance of the stooping figure.

He saw the dull gleam of a knife held in the man’s
hands. !
“It isn’t the pot-metal bandit, or else he has laid
aside his armor,” was his thought. \

When the man was within a yard of the bed the scout
flung the coverings aside with one sweep of: his strong
arm, and the next instant had thrown himself on his foe.

Sweet William awoke with a startled yell and flounced
out on the floor as the scout and the intruder closed in
a lively grapple.

“Wow! Sufferin’ Moses, I’m killed!” yelled the half-
awake miner. :

Then he became aware that Buffalo Bill was engaged
in combat with some one. _

The scout’s task was not great. In strength he over-
topped the man with the knife; and in a few moments
he had thrown him to the floor and held him down.

“A light, Sweet William; the lamp is right over there
on the table, And a cord, if you can 1 get one, to tie
this rascal’s hands.”

He held the man by the shoulders and throat against :

the floor until Sweet William could fumble out a match
and strike it and get the lamp aflame.

The light brought a surprise. .

The man captured thus by Buffalo Bill was none other
than the youth whose name was said to be Jason Strong.

There were.as yet no sounds from the other portions
of the cabin, though Sweet William had a in a man-
ner to-wake the dead.

“Ha, we've got you again!” said the scout, ee
down into the pale face of his captive.

“You have,’ was the sullen answer;
mean to do about it?”

“T think I should like ther job o’ slittin’ yer windpipe,”
Sweet William declared, unfeelingly.

“Then, slit it!”

The youth’s manner was defiant.

“Those cords, Sweet William,” the scout reminded.

“Yas, I’d fergot them; better tie ther skunk; and while
yer-doin’ it look out fer the ese Injun; he’s some’eres
round. I’m bettin’.” ;

The youth sat up, as Bafalo Bill relaxed his grip on
him. a
“You needn’t tie me,
“No? Why note”

“what do you

” he said.

BILL STORIES.

“Because itis not likely that I can get away.”

“Vou got away before, when we had ye, young feller!”

“You slipped in here with the intention of killing
me!” said the scout, severely.

“T hoped not to kill you, but I wanted to injure. you,”
was the singular statement. ae

Buffalo Bill walked to the door, Cini it, and then

“locked it from the inside.

“How did you get in?” he asked.

“T have a key. I used to live here.
the key still in my pocket.”

Sweet William was searching for cords with which to
tie the youth.

With the window barred and the door locked it did
not seem that the prisoner could escape.

Buffalo Bill drew up a chair and sat down, keeping well
back from the window to avoid a shot from it.

“Will you explain that,” he asked.

(What) said?”

“Yes; your statement that you didn’t intend to kill
me.”’

eqomeant it.

“You wanted to wound me, but not to kill me2”

vest:

“Why, may I ask?’

“So you could not follow the man who wears the
lielmet and armor.” ne

The youth spoke with apparent feeling. |

“Ah! you do not want me to follow him!
inquire why?”

The youth looked at him defiantly.

“TI know who you are, Buffalo Bill, for I heard those
men yesterday speak your name as you rode by where
I was in hiding. I will be honest with you.”

He glanced about, and lowered his tone as he asked:

“You came here at the. wish of \Miss Lawrence, I
suppose ?”’

“We did.”

“She has told you her story?”

ea. :

“Then you know about her father?”

“We know some things about him.”

“And you promised to run the armored man down?”

“How do you know that?”

_“Buffler,” said Sweet William, Seana. now with
some cords he had found, “ther reason this hyar eritter
knows that is because he war ther pot-metal man ae was
lookin’ in ther winder and tuck that shot at you.”

When I left I had

May I

_ Is that sor” was the scout’s blunt i inquiry.”

“T don’t know what he’s talking about. All I iow is
that I am sure if Miss Lawrence asked you to run down
the man in armor- you would promise to try it; 1 know
that, from what I know of your character and reputation.”

 
THE BUFFALO

“You know it in no other way?”

“In no other way.”

“He's lyin’, Buffler !”’
| “T will tell you everything,” the youth went on. “As I
said, I’m not afraid of you, nor of both of you. The only
thing you can do is to kill me; and I’d as soon be dead
as to be hiding out as I have done for some days past.
I crept in here to wound you, so that you could: not
take up that search. And I did it for the sake of that
irl.” Ny

“For the sake of Miss Lawrence?”

“Ves, for herssake alone.”

Explain.”

“IT don’t want to say any more.”

“But you'll have to say more!”

“Buffalo Bill, if I tell you the whole ‘truth will you
let me go?”

- The scout looked at him thoughtfully.

“You think you know who this man is that wears that
armor?

“T do,” the youth answered.

“Who ?”

“T will tell you, if you will let me go.”

For a half minute or more the scout was silent, think-
ing over the situation. ;

“You have my promise,” he said at length. ‘Tell me,
and you may go.”

Sweet William stood petrified with astonishment.

“The man is her own father. That is why I tried to
stop you from making the search. It will kill her if she
learns the truth.” |

“You can’t be. mistaken?’ Buffalo Bill asked.

No.” :

“You have seen his face?’

Mes. 7

“Tell me all about it.”

“One day, before Snyder Lawrence, the uncle of this
| girl, was killed, I was out. by the quicksand lake. 1 saw
| the armored horseman riding across the quicksands, and
I hid. He did not dream that anyone was near, and
when he came close to my hiding place he dismounted.
The armor didn’t fit him well or something, and he ad-
justed it. I saw him take off his helmet and put it back
again. I saw his face, and it was the face of Mason
| Lawrence, the girl’s own father.” :

“Do you swear that this is the truth, and that it is
the reason why you attacked me?”

‘Willingly, I swear it.”

“Ve can’t believe him, Buffler !” Sweet William warned.
“A feller like that will lie like the Old Boy ter git out
of a difficulty. He’s throwin’ dust in yer eyes.”

Buffalo Bill did not seem to hear this.

“You may go,’ he said, to the youth.

BILL STORIES.

The latter rose from the floor.

“Thank you,” he said, and turned to the door.

Buffalo Bill unlocked it for him.

For a moment he looked into the scout’s face.

“T must be in the mountains before daylight, for those

fools from the silver camp would hang me if they found

me. But I want to say to you that I have told you
nothing but the truth. And I earnestly beg that you will
not try to discover who that armored man is. I ask it for
the sake of the girl—not on my own account.”

He slipped through the doorway and was gone.

“Of all the
Sweet William checked the words on his lips.

Baia

“What were you about to remark, Sweet William?” the
scout asked blandly, as he locked the door after the es-
caping youth. : .

“TI war goin’ ter insinuate, Buffler, that you war a
fool; but I’ll change it, and say—of all ther liars that
feller is the biggest!”

“You think he was lying?”

“T knows it.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“You think he spoke ther truth?”

“I think he did. He is crazy in love with that girl,
and he feared the effect on her if she found out that the
bandit is her own father. So he made this desperate
attempt on me.”

“And you're goin’ ter give up ther whole thing—stop
right hyar an’ quit?”

The miner was plainly disgusted.

“Nothing of the kind, Sweet William i

“What in time, then, air ye goin’ ter do?’

“I’m going to run down that armored bandit.”

“But you told him you wouldn’t?”

“T don’t remember that I did. He asked me not to,
that is all”

“But ef ther masked man is ther gal’s dad?’

“He is not: This young fellow is simply mistaken.”

“But he says he seen him—seen his face!” :

“T know he said that, and he thinks so; but I am not
ready to believe the girl’s father is the armored bandit.
Anyway, Sweet William, it will be our work to find out
who the armored bandit really is.”

CHAPTER DX,
THE APPARITION.

Even while Buffalo Bill was speaking, a fumbling rap
sounded on the door through which the young man had
gone.

At almost the same instant the voice of the girl was
heard at the other door. )

 
x

20). HE BUPPAL®

Buffalo Bill sprang to one door and Sweet William to
the other. :

From the outside appeared the old man, bearing a
lighted lantern. His face was white and he was shaking
with fear. |

“May God save me,” he chattered.
ghost !” 7

He stumbled and seemed about to drop the lantern.

“What—what has happened?’ questioned the girl. “I
heard words, conversation, in here. I thought I heard
the yore of Jason Strong, and as soon as | could dress
1 came.)

“You did hear the voice of Jason Strong,” the scout
admitted. “But he is gone now. He came to give me
a certain warning; and then he hurried away because he
feared the Vigilantes from the silver camp.”

“T have seen a

Without further explanation he turned to the shaking

old man.

“What did you see?”

“A ghost—it must have been a ghost!”

“Nonsense; some one has been playing a trick on
you!”

“Tt passed through a room and brood by my bed. It
held a knife, and

“Ghosts are not supposed to carry knives.”

“And the face looked like the face of a dead man. [
had not undressed, for when I went to bed I dreaded to
go to sleep; then I woke up, and saw that.”

“Which way did it 2 me

“I—I will show you.’

“Sufferin’ Moses, ef this hyar ain’t a night o’ won-
ders!’ Sweet William was gasping.

But he followed Buffalo Bill, when the old man passed
with him through the door; and behind them all came the
girl, white-faced and frightened. What they were to

 

witness she could not guess, but her fears concerned Jason

Strong.

Leading the way, ie old man piloted the party into
the wing of the cabin which he had occupied with his
wife; and then to a stairway that led to what seemed
to have been originally a stable.

The rheumatic old woman was cowering in terror in

her bed.
“Tt—was—there!” the old man Weed
—that—way !”

“Tt—went

He pointed up the dimly lighted stairway, where even
now something seemed to be moving.

All looked in the direction of the old man’s pointing
finger. . ;

Then, at the top of the ay stairway, a face appeared

—a thin, white face, showing bloodless lips and shining

eyes. It peered down at them for an instant.
The piercing scream of the girl rocked the building.

 

BILL STORIES.

"Oh, my God, it is the spirit of my father!” |
She fell headlong to the floor in a faint; and the old
man, startled out of his wits by that cry and by what
he saw, let the lantern fall with a crash to the floor, oe

ting it out.
Buffalo Bill did not stop to concern himself with the

_ condition of the girl; he sprang for the stairway, where

that bloodless face had been seen for a moment and had
then disappeared.

Sweet William came leaping at his heels.

“Wow!” squalled the miner, as, arriving at the top of
the stairs, he saw a form moving before him in the
darkness. -“Thar he goes; an’ ghost er no ghost he gits
a bullet.”

Before Buffalo Bill could prevent he had fired.

~The ghostly form melted away as the powder omer:
filled the air; and when the scout and the miner hurried
on they could discover nothing but a blank wall of logs .
and a window.

“This window has been opened,”
“Through we go!”

“Sufferin’ Moses, I reckon I missed him; but ye can’t
expect ter hit a ghost. Better go back, hadn’t we, Pard
Buffler ?”

“It’s no ghost,”

“What then ?”

_ “Tt’s Mason Lawrence, the girl’s father, himself,”

‘said the scout.

said the scout, almost impatiently.

“Wow! Whoop! Drive on yer ox team; I’m with
yer. I ain’t hankerin’ ter tackle ghosts, but I ain’t
askeered of live men!” >

The window seemed fo have stuck fast, but with his
strong hands Buffalo Bill fairly tore it from its fasten-
ings.

’ To his astonishment it ended in a blank wall—another
wall of logs.

This was a mysterious, poky place, but he swung into it.

He set his feet on a disused and rickety stairway, built
between the two log walls.

In another second the scout was climbing down the
stairway, and Sweet William, puffing like a porpoise, was
scrambling down behind him.

At the ground they found only the two walls of logs.

“We're in a trap, Buffler !’’

The scout was feeling about.

His hands touched a wooden bolt.

He drew it out of place; then pushed against the logs;
and a section of the outer wall Dos in the form of a
door.

He stepped through it, and found himself outside of the
house, with the stars shining over him.

Sweet William, panting and exclaiming, tumbled

through at his heels, falling to the ground,
Hoopla! Butler, whar is ie

 
Cue Sn - =
Sli ORAS pec Aaa Ec ALANS RRR AL sr aIRSS RES RTS GH Aes SRE SS NENA oar GeGD AT RA

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“ome,

‘I don’t see anything.”

The miner scrambled to -his feet.

He looked about with staring eyes. Not a thing could
he see that suggested anything unusual. Out beyond
were the rocky hills, clad with trees, and behind him was
the big, rambling, log house.

“Buffler, it’s gone!”

“You mean he is gone.”

yas, ef it war a man.”

“Would you mind climbing back the way we came
and bringing that lantern here?’

Sweet William hesitated a moment. This thing of
hunting the mysterious was not to his liking. ;

“T want to watch here while-you are gone,”
explained. :

“Ef ther thing is hid in ther wall and etabe me, Buffler,
Tl yell, and you must come a-runnin’.”

Though the miner tried to say this in a joking way,
he was more than half in earnest.

It was not his nature to show the white feather; and
when the scout repeated the request he re-entered the
cramped space between the walls and began to climb the
rickety stairway.

When he appeared again the girl came with him.

They had the lantern, which had been relighted.. The
a was shaking with excitement.

“T know it was my father’s spirit,’ she declared, with
stubborn earnestness.

the scout

“Tt may have been your father alive, Miss Lawrence,’
y, the scout suggested.

| With the lantern he began to search for footprints
‘ by the wall“Fhe ground was flinty and none were to be
seen. Yet that did not prove the man had not gone that
'way, though Sweet William was half inclined to think
-it did. The girl was ready to accept it as proof that the

) thing seen was a spirit and not a man.

’ Buffalo Bill turned to her.

“You did not tell me of this queer entrance into the
house!”

“T did not think of it at the time. We never use it, and
I had almost forgotten about it. When father built the
house he made the walls double; and he constructed this
place and this stairway, so we could retreat if it ever
became necessary. There used to bea hole down between
the walls, like a well, which led into the cellar; but that
was filled in long ago.”

Buffalo Bill was not so sure of this; and, returning to
the cramped space between the log walls, he examined the

. spot which the girl pointed out.

A depression was to be seen, which she said was ‘once
he site of the old well, or hole, leading to the cellar,

“Whoever that man was he had>plenty of time’ to

escape, as we could not follow very fast,” said the scout,

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

speaking to her. “He knew the way and we didn’t, and
he escaped without trouble.”

“Then you think it was a map?”

“IT am as sure, of it, Miss Lawrence, as_that 1 am
one; |

She wrung her hands tearfully.

"Oh, J wish 1 could think.so! lf I could think se i
would mean that my father is still alive.”
“T think he is alive, Miss Lawrence.
before, however, you must remember.”

“But that—that face looked so white, so ghastly! It
was father’s face, yet not like it; it was like the face
of a dead man.” |

The scout looked longingly at the dark hills. He had
put out the lantern, knowing its light might draw a
bullet.

“Miss Lawrence, as soon as it is day I shall begin on
the work I promised—I shall begin the search you re-
quested me to make. a in that search I hope to find
your father.” /

She put her hand to ek bee and staggered as if again
about to fall.

“You—you don’t think that Ho he can be the
armored bandit?”

“TI don’t think so,” he declared positively.

“Thank God for that!”

Having received this assurance, Lucy Lawrence de-
sired the particulars of the visit made by Jason Strong
to the cabin.

Buffalo Bill enlightened her as far as he thought it ad-
visable.

“He is innocent,’ she asserted, with confidence. “I
beg of you to make it clear to the world that he is inno-
cent.

“Miss Lawrence,” said the scout, in the tone he had
used before in making the same promise, “I shall go to
the bottom of this mystery, and shall find out the truth.
There are several things I desire to investigate, and I
shall begin the work as soon as it is day.”

I never saw him

CHAPTER X.,
MIDNIGHT (S. PERL. :

When morning dawned the scout began his prepara-
tions.

He had not slept after that startling attempt on his
life, but had watched impatiently for the coming of the
red dawn in the east.

Sweet William likewise had not cared for sleep; and
they had sat together in the darkness of the room as-
signed to them and discussed at length the situation.

In her own part of the house Lucy Lawrence had been
as wakeful; and it seemed quite certain that the rheumatic

 
22 THE BUFFALO

old man and his wife had been too terrified and startled
to think again of slumber.

Yet the cabin had shown no light. Viewed from near
or afar it was wrapped in darkness, and gave the decep-
tive assurance that its occupants were sleeping soundly.

- Buffalo Bill, having thought out to the end of his tether,
had decided to leave Sweet William at the cabin.

“Tt will be hard on you, old pard, I know,’ he said,
when he made this decision known. “But some one ought
to stay with the young lady. Whether she will be trou-
bled again by the armored horseman I don’t know, but
we oughtn’t to run any risk.”

Sweet William was not pleased with this order.

“Ef it could be arranged, Buffler, ’'d ruther go with
you,” was, however, all he said.

‘We are not certain we can depend on that old servant,

though I rather think he is all right,” was the eon

argument. ‘‘Besides, what could he do if that armored
bandit should appear here again? He would be helpless.
Altogether, Sweet William, though I enjoy your com-
pany, and really wish I could take you, I think you ought
to stay. I promise not to be gone longer than is neces-
sary.”

“Waal, ef ther masked feller comes pokin’ his nose
round hyar while a te ee Buffler, some lead will be
flyin’ !”

-The miner made the threat grimly.

“T know I can trust you. My theory is that the armored

man is more likely to be seen near that quicksand lake
than any place else. It was there, also, that we saw that
Indian, who I know is the ally of Wyoming Tom. So,
that is the spot for me to begin my work.”

At the breakfast table he spoke soothingly to Lucy
Lawrence, and promised to push the investigation with all
the speed -he could.

‘He talked hopefully, and at times almost jovially,
thinking to give her renewed strength and courage.

She was white and pale, monet beautiful in spite of

this

Taking Midnight from the log stable where, in spite
of the alarms and excitement of his human friends, he
had spent a quiet and restful night, the scout mounted
and set forth for the quicksand lake.

Sweet William wrung his hand at parting.

“When friends sep’rates in this way in a country like
this thar ain’t any tellin’ that they'll ever meet ag’in,” he
remarked, feelingly. “But, Pard Buffler, 1 know that
you've got luck with ye, and air allus able to take keer o’
yerself. Ef any spooks or pot-metal bandits comes round
Tl sling lead at ’em_lively, now you hear me.”

Then Buffalo Bill rode away, leaving the miner, the
girl, and the servants standing in the yard, watc ne him
until he was out of ‘sight.

BILL (STORIES:

He rode rapidly, and though the distance was con-
siderable, was soon near thé spot where he had come
upon Jason Strong the preceding day.

“Tf that bullet-proof scoundrel isn’t Wyoming Tom [
am still sure that Wyoming Tom is in this section, for |
tracked him here,’ was the scout’s conclusion. “I
shouldn’t have thought of connecting that rascal with the
armored man but for the fact that Blackfoot Joe was seen
with the latter. Well, it's a. mixup, as Sweet William
said! Blackfoot Joe and Wyoming Tom hunt together,
just like a pair of snakes; and Blackfoot Joe was wi the:
bandit) ~

Instead of proceedin& on to the shore of the quicksand
lake, Buffalo Bill now turned aside, and taking a short
cut reached the canyon down which the hot pursuit had —
led the day before.

“Tf I try to hide close by the shore of the lake he
will spy me out, and I will have no chance to effect his
capture. It seems. useless to shoot bullets at him, so
I°must resort to strategy. If I can once get my lariat
round his neck, or drop on him from a ledge, it will be
strange if I do not hold him.”

Thinking thus, Buffalo Bill, after gaining the canyon,
rode up the narrow trail which led through it.

He was looking for some hole or pocket in the rock
in which he might conceal himself and his horse.

As the bandit had once passed down that canyon trail,
it was altogether probable he would do so again sooner
or later, and it was now the scout’s intention to remain

‘in concealment until that time came.

Suddenly Midnight pricked forward his ears and dis
tended his nostrils.

The extreme intelligence of the beautiful black horse
was noted.

‘He seemed to have at times more than human percep-
tions. |

“Ah! you scent something, Midnight!’ the scout ex-
claimed. ae

He drew rein, and, sitting still in the saddle, listened.

To his ears was now borne the beat of hoofs coming
down the canyon trail.

“As we don’t know who those people are that are com-
ing, Midnight, we'd better make ourselves scarce for a
little while.” :

A branch of the canyon opened here, extending as a
deep gash far into the mountain.

Buffalo Bill turned Midnight into it, and rode on look-
ing for a place of greater security, and also one from
which he could see the coming horsemen.

The branch of the canyon widened into a canyon fect
and soon he heard the distant roar of water.

“These are interesting hills, deep here in the heart of
the Wyoming mountains,’ was his thought. “I shall have

 
THE BUPPALO

get a look at

to see that waterfall.
those hérsemen.”’
Leaving Midnight in a nook in the rocky canyon wall,
the scout climbed now to a high spur, or ridge, which
gave him a view into the canyon he had just quitted.
So much time was consumed in this climb that when
he gained the top of the dividing ridge and could look
down into the main canyon the horsemen were yery near,
and the hoof beats of their animals and the jingle of spurs
and bridle bits came distinctly.
“Vigilantes, from the silver camp, I should say!” he ex-
claimed, as they swept into sight round a bend. }
_ There were a score of them or more, all well mounted
-and well armed. Though a rough-looking body of men,
they seemed to be miners and townspeople rather than
wild denizens of the mountains who might be expected
to prey on passing’ travelers.
“Yes, Vigilantes from the town, without any doubt ; and
it’s about equally certain that they’re looking for Jason
Strong.”
The face of the scout clouded.
“The young chap spoke truly when he said it was
necessary for him to hide out in the hills to escape the
_men from the town who were hunting for him. I, for one,
hope they will not find him, until after I run down this
«mystery, at least.”
He could have hallooed down to the men as they swept
by.
Their voices rose to him clearly; and what they were
' saying proved that his conjecture that they were Vigi-
lantes hunting for Jason Strong was right.
| “It would be a sad thing for Lucy Lawrence if they
# should find Jason Strong and hang him. If the chance
' comes my way I will favor him because of that girl, and
_also because it4has not yet been shown to me that he is
| guilty and deserves to be hung. Ah! they are going to
the quicksand lake!’ :
The horsemen had ridden out at the lower end of the
canyon, and were galloping over the level ground which
_led to that strange, natural phenomenon.
: From his airy height the scout could still see them
clearly. :
He took out his fieldglass and studied them, aa with
’ it swept that singular sandy surface.

But, first, 1 want to

The so-called lake was as quiet and peaceful in appear-
ance as if it did not hold beneath its calm surface the
deadliest death-trap known in the Western mountains.

The men halted on the shore of the lake, and he could
see them gesticulating and pointing. -

“I guess they’re not fools enough to try to cross it;
but, from their gestures, they seem to think that Jason
Strong has crossed it, and is in hiding somewhere beyond.
a Well, in that I believe they are mistaken.”

BILL STORIES. re

As the. scout thus watched and commented, he heard a
whinny of alarm from his horse.

The faithful black never uttered that sound unless dan-
ger had come to him or to his master.

Instantly the scout looked into the nook where he
had left his horse. ~

What he beheld almost paralyzed him.

Blackfoot Joe was approaching Midnight with knife in

- hand, evidently with the intention of hamstringing him.

Buffalo: Bill lifted his revolver—his rifle he had left
on the saddle.

“My God, the distance is too great for this revolver to
carry V7

His heart was wrung with anxiety.

He began to scramble down the rock, and was on the
point of firing his revolver and shouting for the purpose
of attracting the Indian’s attention.

Then he saw Midnight whirl about and present a pair
of heels to Blackfoot Joe.

“Good boy—sensible old beast!”

Again the Indian approached the horse,
gripped the knife.

Midnight slowly turned, keeping his heels to his red
foe.

Blackfoot Joe made a dash, trying to get past the
horse; and Buffalo Bill, startled by the peril in which he
saw his beloved Midnight, fired his revolver at the red
miscreant, at the same time shouting at the top of his

and he still]

lungs.

Blackfoot Joe tumbled backward to escape the heels of
the black.

The bullet fell short, but as Indian heard it smash
against the rocks, and heard likewise the report and the
loud outcry made by Buffalo Bill.

Turning about, he glanced up at the scout on ‘the high,
far slope.

As he did so, Midnight rushed upon bie bowled him
over, and leaping across his prostrate body, fled for safety
down the canyon.

The Indian scrambled to his Pec He must have been
bruised by that knockdown blow, _ he was not seriously
injured, ae

For a moment he glared about; then, seeing that the
horse had escaped, he shook his fist at the man on the
high cliff, and slunk from sight. _ 2

Buffalo Bill was scrambling in wild haste down from
the height, yet not without caution.

-This caution increased as he tae the bottom of the
canyon.

For greater safety he now veered from the direct fine
of decent; made a wide detour among the rocks, and
gained the floor of the canyon ‘Some distance below.

caer

 
24

THE BUFFALO

When he advanced with quiet steps up the narrow way,
revolvers ready and every nerve tense, he found that the
Indian had departed.

CHAPTER XI.
IN DEADLY PERIL.

It was plain to the experienced eyes of the scout that.
Blackfoot Joe had gone up the canyon, ane that he
had not tried to pursue the horse.

The scout followed the Indian’s trail.

As he did so the roar of water already mentioned rose

louder and louder, proving that he was approaching a_

rapid stream or cataract.
The scout’s peril was greatly increased by that roar. It

drowned lesser sounds. A foe would find it easier to
approach him, with that roar dinning in his ears.

Aware of this, the scout added to his caution.

In a little while he reached the stream itself, and
found a swift river flowing between high rock walls.

‘Across this river stretched a narrow bridge. It hung
suspended over the seething water as airily as if hung
there by the hand of man; yet it was a natural bridge of
rock.

Looking at this narrow, slippery footpath, the scout de-
tected on its nearest end the faint imprint of a moccasin.

“Blackfoot Joe has crossed,” was his conclusion.

He looked at the further shore, half shrouded from his
eyes by the river mist.

The bridge seemed to sway under the tremendous jar of
the rushing water; but it was only seeming, caused by
the movement of the mist flung up by the water; the
bridge was as solid as the rock of which it was formed.

Seeing nothing of Blackfoot Joe on the further side,
the scout at length ventured to set his feet on the natural
bridge.

As he did so, and stepped out over the boiling flood, a .

man-darted from a niche in the wall, and leaping upon
the bridge, tried to strike him a blow that would knock
him into the stream.

The man was the bandit in armor.

- He had trusted to the roar of the river to drown his
advance, had expected to come upon the scout from be-
hind, and then hurl or knock him into the stream.

But in spite of the thunder of the water the scout heard
his feet thud on the bridge; and he wheeled about el as
the masked outlaw leaped at him.

The scout had held his revolver in his hand, but the
armored man was so near that he could not use it; and
the next moment the two men were locked in a life-and-
death struggle, apparently, on that frail foothold. —

Buffalo Bill was the more powerful. He lifted the

BILL STORIES.

bandit from his feet and seemed on the point of pitching
him from the bridge. The bandit dropped downward,
however ; and, catching the scout about the legs, caused
him to fall, for the bridge was slippery and narrow.

As they thus toppled it appeared that both were going
into the river.

The scout saved himself from this by rave out one
hand; and he and his assailant came down on the bridge
together, the outlaw beneath, with half his body hanging
over the stream.

“Ti I go over you go with me, you hellhound!” said
the otttlaw, clinging with firm hold to the scout’s legs.

Buffalo Bill tried to disengage the man’s clinging fin-
gers, but, before he could do so, other footsteps sounded
on the bridge and Blackfoot Joe came leaping to the aid of
the bandit.

The Indian’s eyes were gleaming: with hate of Buffalo
Bill, and with his knife in hand he rushed straight at the
scout. |

Buffalo Bill was taken at a disadvantage. He could not
turn to meet this new foe fairly without at the same
time risking a tumble into the river with the outlaw, and -
he had no desire for that.

“Hold! he shouted to the Indian. “If you strike me, |
your master will go into the river with me!”

He spoke in the Blackfoot tongue, that he might be
sure the Indian would understand.

Blackfoot Joe comprehended, and saw that the words
of the scout were true. !

If he struck the scout down with the knife there was
nothing to keep the armored man from dropping into
the river with him, for it was Buffalo Bill’s strong hoid on
the bridge which now held him out of the water.

The Indian dropped his knife-hand and stood in hesi- '
tation.

The armored man well understood the deadly peal in
which he had placed himself.

“Will you let me up, if the Indian promises Wel to
strike you?”

Buffalo Bill had no desire to see this man drowned;
that would have lost to him what he most desired to
know—the man’s identity.

Even now, speaking as the outlaw did with a choking
wheeze, and with his words made almost indistinguishable
by the roar of the stream, the scout could not tell how
his real voice would sound. Therefore he was willing to
give this promise. :

N

“Yes, I will let you up.”

“Stand back, Joe!” said the outlaw.
Poul.

~The Indian retreated a step; and by a great exertion

“He's got me

‘of strength Buffalo Bill lifted the man until his body

lay securely across the bridge.

 
THE BUFFALO

But as he did so, the treacherous Blackfoot rushed in
_ again and dealt him a heavy blow on the head. The next

moment, stunned into half consciousness, the body of

Buffalo Bill whirled downward into the boiling river.

~*~

CHAPTER: Xi:
THE GHOST AS A FRIEND.

The drop into the icy water restored the scout instantly
to full consciousness.

Trying to swim, he was whirled round and round and
' swept away on the bosom of the swift current.

He saw the rocks whip by; and, turning a bend in the
channel, he found that the bridge had been swept from
sight.

Louder roared the stream, showing that a cataract was
below him.

“T must reach the shore,” he gasped; and again he put
forth his full strength.

The blow on the head had weakened him, he dis-
covered, and he was not able to combat successfully with
the torrent. :

Then, dimly, he beheld the form of a man on the shore.
The form was shrouded in the misty vapor, but the scout
saw that the man held a lariat, and he thought he heard
' the man shout to him.

The next instant a rawhide rope came whizzing through.

the air.

It was not cast as a cowboy would hurl it, but was
simply flung out into the,stream to its utmost length.

It fell within a yard of the scout; and by a tremendous
exertion of strength he managed to lay hold on it.

Then the man began to draw him to the shore; and
soon, aided by his own exertions, thé scout reached the
shelving rock where the man stood, and was able to
clamber up to safety.

Yet it had been a narrow escape.

What was the surprise of the scout, therefore, when
he saw that the man who had rescued him was the “ghost”
of the preceding night. |

“Mason Lawrence!” he exclaimed, as he scrambled out
of the water, wet as the proverbial drowned rat. ‘I owe
you my life!” :

Mason Lawrence,.who it will be remembered was the
father of Lucy Lawrence and the inventor of the queer
armor worn by the mysterious horseman, stared hard at
Buffalo Bill. :

His face was white and ghastly, pinched as if from suf-

fering or hunger, and his eyes, sunken deep in his head,

were unnaturally bright.

“You know me?” he gasped.

The.scout extended his hand to grasp that of his pre-
server, but Mason Lawrence drew back.

BILE STORIES. 25

“Tell me where you ever saw me before,” he demanded ;
“you are a stranger to me!”

The scout let his hand fall to his side.

“T can’t say that I ever met you before this moment,
but I saw your face for an instant last night, when you
came to your cabin.”

Mason Lawrence again drew back.

“You are not my friend!’ he declared in a hollow
voice. “I saved you from the river, and now you would
turn against me! Every one turns against me!”

The scout saw now that the man’s mind was affected,
and pity filled him.

“I want to be your friend, Mason Lawrence,” he said,
in quiet tones. “I, at least, will be your friend, if you
will let me.”

Lawrence came nearer and studied the scout’s face,
seeming to peer with his bright eyes through it into’the
mind that lay behind.

“Yes, I can trust you!’ he said, speaking so softly that
in the river’s roar the words were almost lost to the
scout.. “IT can trust you!”

It was strange, and yet not strange, for all men, except
those naturally depraved, had an instinctive feeling that
they could trust Buffalo Bill. Even this man, with his
unhinged mind, felt the strong spell of the great scout’s
presence and of his truthful eyes.

“Yes, I can trust you, and I will; and I need a friend
—one friend, at least.”

“T will be your friend, Mason Lawrence.”

Lawrence looked with solicitude at the scout’s wet
clothing.

(7?

“You need a fire—you must dry yourself

“T will attend to that later ; just now I need information
more than anything else. I have just had a narrow es-
cape, as you know; and the cause of my being in the
river was the man known as the armored horseman. Tell
me, Mason Lawrence, if you can, who that man is?”

The scout knew now that whoever the man in armor
was he was not Mason Lawrence, the father of Lucy
Lawrence.

Mason Lawrence advanced a step toward his ques-
tioner. - :

“Yes, I know who he is,” he said, in that same hollow
tone, which made the words difficult to understand there’
in the roar of the river. “Ay, I know him well! He is
Jason. Strong !’’

“What! Do you mean‘the youth who used to live with
you at the ranch house?”

“Ay, that is who J mean! He is the man who wears
the armor ; he is the outlaw that has been murdering men
and robbing them.”

The scout forgot his chilled and wet condition.

 
26 : ' THE BUPEALO
“Tell me what you ees about this,” he urged.
“T will tell you, for I see that I can trust you,’

the old man, speaking in an agitated manner. “I made

that armor myself, and I wore it fora time. Then I was
struck down by that man and left for dead. He will kill
me as soon as he can find me. That is why I am hiding.”

He advanced a step nearer the scout. “Do you see? That

is why I 4m in hiding! I have a cave right close by. I

was in my cave when you came down the river. I saw

you and saved you.’ y
The fire in his burning eyes died out sddeaty.

effect was as if they were suddenly glazed over.

trembled and put his hang to his head. —

“Ah! it goes from me.’

“You were saying that Jason Strong is the armored
horseman.”

The eyes flashed again:

“Yes, yes, that was it; that is what I was saying. I
know where he hides, beyond the quicksand lake. 1 had
a place over there myself. He watched me and learned
my secret. Then he struck,me down, took my armor, and
now he makes it his hiding place. May the curse of God
rest on him!” a

He shook with the violence of his emotions. _

The scout saw more clearly than ever. that this man’s
mind was unhinged. Nevertheless, he hoped to make him
useful.

“Could you pilot me to that place—to the hiding place
of the armored horseman ?”’

17?

“Ay, I can, and I will!

He turned about as if to walk along the slippery cliff
in the direction of the natural bridge.

“You are sure that Jason Strong is the man ? Pee

The old man stopped. His eyes again flamed in the
depths of their cavernous sockets.

“Do I know it? Didn’t he strike me down and leave
me for dead, and take my armor? And since learning
that I am not dead, hasn't he been hunting for me, to
take my life? Ay, he has been hunting for me as if I were
a wolf! But I will have his life some day. Ha! ha! ha!
I will strike him down as he did me, and then ie

He struck at an imaginary foe and danced on the “rocks
in a delirium of excitement. | /

“Calm yourself,” the scout urged. “You must calm
yourself; for now you are to help me, you know. We
will slip on this man; or, better, we will go to that home
of his beyond the quicksand lake and there lie in wait for
him.”

The old man dropped to a crouching posture and looked
so wolfish that the scout almost shuddered.

_ “Yes—yes—that is it; we will steal on him—steal on
him as the coyote steals on its prey! Ha! come; I will
show you where he hides!) And then———
to a high whine, “and then I will crunch his bones as the
coyote crunches the bones of the rabbit. Ha! ha! ha!’

His wild laugh echoed among the rocks above the roar
of the river.

When Buffalo Bill and his strange guide reached the
rock bridge nothing was | to be seen “of the armored © man
and the Indian. Br

The

’ said

He’

” his voice rose.

BILL STORIES.

9?

“They're not waiting for my return,” was his sensible
conclusion, “for they “think 1 was ‘drowned. I should
have drowned but for the help of this imsane old man.
Now, how much of what he says can I believe? Is it pos-
sible that Jason Strong, whom! had in my power last
night and released, is the man Iam hunting for? Can

it be that he is the armored horseman and Wyoming —

Tom? Certainly the armored - man must be Wyoming
Tom, or that Blackfoot would not always be seen near
him or with him. The Blackfoot came to his aid while I
was struggling with him on this stone bridge.”

As Buffalo Bill was somewhat anxious concerning his
horse, Midnight, he now set out across the stone bridge
and along the side canyon toward the main one, accom-
panied by. the old man, who hobbled unsteadily, yet
seemed to be able to keep up without trouble.

“Would you mind telling me why you came to your
home last night, and then ran away. when we saw you?”
the scout inquired, as they thus passed along.

A crafty gleam came into the eyes of Mason Lawrence,

“T have a right to go to my own home!”

“Certainly; but you didn’t stay there, though your
daughter is anxious to see you, and is worried about you.
Why didn’t you stay?’

. “The armored man shot at me and I ran, fearing he
would kill me.”

“That was not Jason Strong who shot at yee i”

“No? Then who was it?’

“Tt was a miner from the silver camp, who calls him-
self Sweet William.”

The title struck queerly on the old man’s ears.

“Why does he call himself that?” he asked.

“He calls himself Sweet William, I suppose, because
he is anything but sweet.”

“Hal ha! that’s it, is it? It makes me think of the
time when I was a boy. I was rather tall, and the boys
all called me Shorty.” x

He looked at the”scout.

‘Why did this man, Sweet William, shoot at me?”

“He thought you were some one who might i Ee the
young lady—your daughter!”

“T don’t believe you! I saw the man, and he was Jason
Strong.”

He stopped and stared into Buffalo Bill’s face.

“Do you ae ao Jason Strong hates me?”

Od cant. oness.’. ;

“Because I didn’t want him to marry my daughter,
Ha! ha! love makes oe of men, and it made ; a fool. of
him.”

“But I have reason to think fe Jason Strong desires
only your. good. I had a talk with him, and he spoke
kindly of you.’

Phen you are a friend of ao
another ‘step with you.’

“T hardly know him, so I can’t claim to be a friend
of his. But we won't talk of him. Tell me something
more about this armored horseman,”

“1 tell: you, and t have told you, that Jason pbaas
is that man!” - AN

Li you are, 4 don’t 0

 
THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

Mason Lawrence made the declaration with positive
and even angry emphasis, and from it he could not be
shaken.

»CHAPTER XIII.

AGAIN THE BANDIT IN ARMOR.

Buffalo Bill found his magnificent horse, Midnight,
grazing peacefully in.a small side cove of the main
canyon.

“You deserve a medal for the manner in which you
drove that Blackfoot away,’ said the scout, as he came
up to the horse and stroked its silky mane. “I was afraid
he would try the trick on you again. But you seem all
right.”

He made an examination of the horse’s legs and feet
-and discovered nothing out of the way.

Mason Lawrence stood by in silent attention. *

“Tf you will mount with me, Mr. Lawrence, we will
now ride down the canyon trail together ; my horse carries
double, without objection.”

“No, I will never ride a horse again; the man who
struck me down and took my armor rides a horse!”

He shook his head, and refused to climb up behind
the scout.

_- When the scout set the horse in motion the oldman
) walked beside him along the way.

| They had not proceeded far in this manner until they-
' came upon the trail made by the party of Vigilantes from
| the silver camp, showing where that party had turned
aside from the canyon, at an opening that led into a
gully well back from the shore of the quicksand_lake.

Here Buffalo Bill stopped in hesitation.

Mason Lawrence looked at the hoof marks critically.

“Who made this trail?’ he asked.

“Men from the silver camp who are hunting Jason
| Strong.”

3 “Ha a

The old man’s eyes began to glitter in their deep

- sockets.
_ He looked along the pass through which the trail led.
Pe eli that 1s. so those are the men IT want to see. I can
tell them: where Jason Strong has his hiding place—
' over beyond the Devil’s Basin.”
He started along the trail at a quick walk, and the
scout followed on horseback, watching him attentively.
| “As crazy as a loon! Now, how much of thet stuff
_he has been telling me shall I believe? Is Jason Strong
| Wyoming Tom? He is, if he is the armored horseman.”
Hardly had they gone a dozen rods when the clatter of
hoofs in the main canyon trail they had just left fell on
_ their ears.

Buffalo Bill drew rein, and the old man eee’ to

listen,

As they looked from the Soin where co were out
into the canyon trail, they beheld, to the intense astonish-

| ment of both, the armored horseman sweep by at a brisk -

gallop, mounted on a horse he had obtained somewhere.
“After him!” bellowed the old man.

As he said it, a wild cry and hubbub rose behind them,
and they heard the Vigilantes from the silver camp come
p ealloping madly down the narrow fe

27

“They, too, had seen the armored horseman sweep
along the main canyon trail, and they were now in full
chase.

“After him!” shrieked the old man again; and he leaped
in pursuit, bounding on foot over the rocks as if he were
a boy.

Buffalo Bill set Midnight in motion.

Just behind him, round a bend, came the Vigilantes,
riding like the wind.

The scout swung in ahead of them, and the whole party
quickly passed the old man on foot.

Then they burst out into the main trail, and saw not far
ahead of them the armored horseman, galloping in the
direction of the quicksand lake.

“Ride!” Buffalo Bill shouted tc the men behind him.
“We must not let him reach that lake.”

Whips and spurs were plied, and the whole party flew
along in a wild race after the fleeing horseman.

He heard them and turned in his saddle to look back.

His hand went up, and a shot came singing among the
rocks from his revolver.

Again and again he fired, slackening the speed of his
horse to increase the accuracy of his aim.

A horse fell just behind Midnight, going down with a

bullet in its brain.

Midnight might get the next bullet, or the scout might
get it himself!

Buffalo Bill’s revolver came out, and he began to shoot
at the armored man, who had turned and was again rid-
ing on.

The bandit in armor had lost time in half stopping to
shoot back at his pursuers.

Now he drove his horse on at top speed.

But the distance separating him from his pursuers had
been much decreased.

Again and agam Buffalo Bill fired at the man in,armor,
without effect.

Swiftly the pursuers followed the bandit.

Buffalo Bill fired once more, aiming this time, not at
the man himself, but at his horse. The poor creature
staggered, while its rider went flying forward from his
saddle, and rolled to the ground. ©

But he was up like a bounding hare, and with a wild
jump landed among some rocks.

Into these he dodged, while bullets scratched the bowl-

‘ders all about him; and then he ran like a deer.

The weight of his armor seemed not to impede his
flight in the slightest; and before Buffalo Bill could reach
the point where he had vanished he was out of sight.

Buffalo Bill leaped from his saddle and sent a bullet
into the brain of the horse he had felt compelled to
bring down.

“Too bad!’ he said, as the horse fell dead without a
struggle. “And it was useless to shoot you, too, as it
proved! If the bullet that wounded you could have
ee the body of your master I should feel better sat-
ished.”

The Vigilantes were scrambling over the rocks, having
thrown themselves from their saddles, and were scattering
out, hoping to come in sight of the fugitive.

Their efforts were fruitless.

The man in armor knew those hills and every turn of

 
oF HIE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

them, and thus having an advantage, contrived to give
them the slip.

rey

 

CHAPTER XIV.
CROSSING THE QUICKSAND.

co hollow and cranny of the hills near the quicksand
lake was searched by the anxious Vigilantes.

As for Buffalo Bill, he rode on to the shore of the lake,
with the old man accompanying him on foot.

“You said you would show me a way across that sandy
surface,’ he remarked; in quiet tones, when he reached
the lakeside.

“Yes, I know it well.
times.”

Buffalo Bill sat in his saddle, glancing at the smooth,
yet treacherous surface.

“Shall I trust this old man, whose mind evidently isn’t
right?’ was the question he was trying to answer.

He saw how easy it would be for Mason Lawrence to
forget the route in his present mental condition; and if he
did so while they were out on the granite ridge in the
midst of the quicksand the chances were against their
ever being able to again reach the shore.

“I think he is over there behind the lake now,” averred
the old man, shading his eyes with his hands and peer-
ing. ie

“No, he isn’t over there; he ran among the rocks; he
did not come down here to the edge of the lake. But he
may come here and cross when he thinks those Vigilantes
are out of the way.”

“Hist!”

The old man turned to him with a crafty look.

“We will cross the lake, and we will watch for his
coming there.”

It was a plan Buffalo Bill had suggested himself, yet
the old man had forgotten it.

HY Out idea is. “2 Hes excellent one,”
“The question is, can we cross in safety?”

“Cross in safety! My dear man, (tell vou 1 have
crossed there a thousand times.”

Buffalo Bill had reason to believe this was so.

Lucy Lawrence had acquainted him with the fact that
her father..had discovered the granite ledge which led
across this vast bed of quicksand, and beyond it, near its
further shore, had found the strange metal, like aluminum,
out of which he had fashioned his armor. This showed
that Mason Lawrence must have crossed the quicksand
many, many times.

Nevertheless, the scout sat long on his horse thinking
over the chances.

At length he dismounted. Z

“T will not risk your life in there, Midnight,” he de-
clared, remembering the fate of the horses whose bodies
lay beneath the shimmering suriace. “It wouldn’t be
right for me to do that; and it isn't necessary. I will
risk my own life, but not yours.”

He took Midnight's bridle bit. oo

“Stay here for a few moments,” he said to Mason
Lawrence, “while I put my horse in a secure place ; and
then we will cross that hidden ridge together.”

“Ay, and we'll find him there sooner or later!” cried
the old man, his eyes shinine again with excitement and
» exultation. “Ay, Jason Strong, though your name may

I have gone over it a thousand

said the scout.

&

}

be Strong you will not be strong enough for me when T

once get my fingers on your throat!” —_

He clutched his own throat with long, skinny fingers
and writhed so diabolitally and exultingly that the scout
was almost sickened.

“Come, Midnight!” he said, and led the horse away.

When he returned, having placed Midnight in what
seemed to be a safe and hidden -place, the old man was
waiting for him.

He stood by the brink of the quicksand lake.

“ Elere the path begins,’ he oe “Now, we will make
the journey.’

It was not without trepidation, it must be confessed,
that the scout followed the old man out into the sand,
where at the first step they sank almost to their ankles,

“There is one thing, though,” was his thought; “he is
in advance, and if he does not know the way, or loses it,

he will sink first; and perhaps 1 can find my way back

to the shore.”

To provide for this Buffalo Bill watched closely every
turn of the hidden path, along which they were now
traveling.

The old man went on rapidly and confidently.

They passed the place where the horses lay sunken in

. the sand, hidden forever from sight.

On, on they went, further and further out into the
sand; and every time the scout put his foot down, fol-
lowing in the exact steps of Mason Lawrence, he found
solid rock just under the surface.

“They reached the bend where the granite path crooked
back and led toward the shore they had quitted.

Buffalo Bill’s confidence in his guide had grown
greatly.

Mason Lawrence might be mentally utihalanced, but he |

knew that granite trail in every bend and turn of its
tortuous way.

“Tt must have been a dangerous and daring undertak-

ing to pick out this path in the first place?” the scout re-
marked, as they thus toiled on.

He was so interested in the work undertaken by him,
and in the searching out of this path, that he had for-
gotten entirely that he had recently escaped from the
dangerous river and that his clothing was still wet.

Yet his garments were rapidly drying on him. Out
there, where the sun fell full without rock or tree to ob-
struct it, the heat was almost painful. It seemed to rise
in waves from the smooth surface and strike him in the
face. Under its influence the scout’s clothing was being
dried as thoroughly as if held over the hot air issuing
from.a furnace.

“Yes, it was dangerous work,”
in answer to the scout’s statement. “But I worked slowly.
I prodded every inch of the way with a sharp pole; and
for a long time-afterward I kept poles sticking i in ‘the. sand.
You see the top of one of them before you.”

The scout observed the small end of what had once
been a stout sapling, protruding from the sand.

“That pole is ten feet long, yet that is all you can see

of it now. All the others have been sucked under by the
sand. Some of them went down in a few minutes after
I planted them; others remained for months; and that
one seems likely to stay as it is now. I suppose the lower
point has struck against a rock.”

ae old man admitted,

 

 

 
 

 

THE BUFFALO

Mason Lawrence talked rationally now and seemed to
be working with a clear head and acute understanding.

By slow progress the bends’of the granite ridge werd
| followed, and after a long and tedious walk they reached
a small island that lay near the further shore of the Giles
sand lake.

Here there was timber and some rocks; and, in the mid-
‘dle of\the little island a structure of stone, in which were
| coals irom a dead fire,

“This is my furnace,” the old man explained. “Here 1
carried on my investigations. These rocks, some of them,
and that sand in small quantities, contains the metal
out of which I fashioned that armor. It is almost as
light as a feather, yet it will turn a bullet as if it were
steel
“IT know it will turn a-bullet,”

confess.
: “And some day it will make me rich!” He threw
his arms above his head and danced gleefully. “Ha! ha!
ha! some day it will make me rich beyond the dreams of
avarice !”

Again Mason Lawrence was the madman, with eyes
shining and glaring like some lunatic of the wildest
| bedlam.

the scout was ready to

 

CHAPTER XV.
CONCLUSION.

Buffalo Bill and the old man crouched in hiding on the
| little island. -

| Four or five hours had passed, and the sun was high
'in the heavens.

The heat had dried the scout’s clothes and he was com-
_ fortable.

» As they thus crouched and talked together, a, clamor
| arose on the further shore of the lake of quicksand.

“Ha! he comes!”

The old man was. about to leap up and dance wildly
| about, but Buffalo Bill caught him and pulled him down.
i “Ves, it is the armored man, and I see him; the Vigi-
) lantes have sighted him and are chasing him. But we
# must not let him know that we are here. We can cap-
f ture him, if you will but keep quiet now.”
| The old man sank down trembling.

| “T will be quiet; I will be as the dead. Ha! ha! ha!
i) he comes! he comes!

(7?

)) The armored bandit had run down to the shore of the
) lake, having issued forth from the rocky heights; and,

ou being there seen by the Vigilantes, who were watching

o for him, they had ridden in chase, and were shouting
}) loudly and firing at him.

» He was on foot, and though his armor looked heavy

'it did not impede his movements.

He leaped from the shore to the granite ne and such
a burst of speed did he then exhibit that he rounded the
harp bend, made the backward turn, and was coming
cross the middle of the eS before the horsemen end
he shore.

“Ha, he is coming at last!” whispered the old man.
“Jason Strong is coming at last!”
» He was much excited; but, remembering Buffalo Bill’s
' warning, he did not again cry out.

  
   
  

BILL STORIES. Se 8

The armored man came on, leaping with springy steps
along the hidden path.

Reaching the little island, and believing himself safe,
he suddenly found the scout facing him wth.a leveled re-
volver. : :

“Surrender!” the scout commanded.

‘Never, you devil!” the man cried; and threw himself
on his opponent.

The struggle that ensued was sharp, but short.

The bandit had been taken by surprise.

Not wishing. to slay him, Buffalo Bill rapped him

sharply on the head with a revolver, and he went down |.

like a beefed ox.

When the armored bandit came 4 himself he found
the scout removing the headpiece of the armor to get a
view of his face.

In his desperation he tore it off and tried to struggle to
his feet,

But his hands and feet were tied.

On Buffalo Bill’s face was a satisfied smile as he looked
into the face of his captive.

The armored bandit was not Jason Strong, but was
Wyoming Tom, whom Buffalo Bill had been sent there to

_ tun down.

Mason Lawrence had been mistaken, in thinking the
bandit was the youth who had once lived with him.
Wyoming Tom was the man who had taken from

_ Mason Lawrence his armor, had slain Snyder Lawrence,

and had tried to carry away Lucy Lawrence.

Finding himself in the toils, Wyoming Tom made a
confession of these things, knowing it was useless to deny
them, now that he had fallen into the hands of Buffalo
Bill.

Thus it came about that the Vigilantes went back to
the silver camp, convinced that Jason Strong was inno- »
cent; and that honest and honorable young man, who had
been merely the victim of cruel circumstances, returned to
the ranch house; and later married Lucy Lawrence, the
girl he loved.

Mason Lawrence recovered His mind eventually, and
might have made a great fortune from his discovery,
if the metal had not ceased to be found there in paying
quantities.

Yet he is satisfied, in the love oe his daughter and his
son-in-law, and is content to pass his life in the midst .
the mountains. :

Blackfoot Joe ee out, and was not seen again ae
that section. ‘

And Buffalo Bill fone his prisoner back with him to the
border of civilization, where the scoundrel was destined
to suffer for his many crimes.

THE END.

A rattling story of Montana will appear next week,
as No. 194, “Buffalo Bill and the Masked Mystery; or,
The Wild Riders of the Wilderness.” It is a story of
Buffalo Bill’s fight, almost single-handed, against a ganz
of desperadoes called the Wild Riders. of the Wilderness
Through it runs the story of a brave girl’s devotion to
her father, and the singular puzzle of the Masked Mystery.
Who was the Masked Mystery—the man who forever
hid his face behind that black silk mask? It will puzzle

the reader, even as it puzzled the great scout.

 
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171—Buffalo Bill’s Bold Brigade; or, Injun Joe’s
Burrow. — :

172—Buffalo Bill on a Hunt for Gold; or, The

Lost Mine of the Cimarrons.

173—Buffalo Bill’s Ride for Life; or, Fighting
the Border Cattle Thieves.

174—Buffalo Bill’s Double; or, The Mephisto of
the Prairie.

175—Buffalo Bill and the Claim Jumpers; or,
The Mystery of Hellgate Mine.

176—Buffalo Biil’s Strategy; or, The Queen of

the Crater Cave.

177—-Buffalo Bill in Morenci; or, The Cat of the

Copper Crag.

152—Buffalo Bill’s Danger Line; or, Snake Eye’s
Silent Signal. :

153—-Buffalo Bill’s Blind Lead; or, The Pirates
of the Prairie.

154—-Buffalo Bill's River Rovers; or, Redskins
and Rangers.

155—Buffalo Bill and the Kid-Glove Kid; or,
The Flim-flam at Flamingo.

156—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pard; or, Th
Red Witch. ;

157—Buffalo Bill at’ Bay; or, The Last Call at

_ Lost Canyon.

158—Buffalo Bill’s Cold Chase; or, Running

Down Redskins on Ice.

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159—Buffalo Bill and the Timber Thieves; or,
The G@amp, of the Secret Clan,
160—Buffalo Bills Long Drop; or, Drawing
Lots with Death.
161—Buftalo Bill’s: Blockhouse;
Wharton’s Strategy.
162—Buffalo Bill’s Canyon Cache;
Beauty from Butte. -
163—Buffalo Bill and the Great Sunstone; or,
The Trick that Trapped the Duke of
the Dagger.
164—-Buffalo Bill’s Wildest Ride; or, The Mon-
_. ster Serpent of the Bad Lands’ Lake.
165—Buffalo Bill and the Greengoods’ Cabal; or,
The Woman with the Manacled Arm.

or, Old Nick
or, The

178—Buffalo Bill’s Dead Drop; or, The Ghost-
Seout of Colorado.

179—Buffalo Bill’s Texan Hazard; or, The War
Trail of the Apaches.

180—Buffalo Bill’s Blindfold Duel; or, The
Death Feud in Arizona.

181—Buffalo Bill’s Mexican Feud; or, The -Ban-
dits of Sonora.

182—Buffalo Bill’s Still Hunt; or, ‘The Masked

Men of Santa Fé.

183—Buffalo Bill’s Fiercest Fight; or, The Cap-

tive of the Apaches.

184—Buffalo Bill’s Navajo Ally; or, The War

with the Cave Dwellers.

185—Buffalo Bill’s Best Shot; or, Saving Uncle

'.. Sam’s Troopers.

186—Buffalo Bill’s Girl Pard; or, The Mystery |
of the Blindfold Club. —

187—Buffalo Bill’s Eagle Eye; or, The Battle of

| dhe Staked Plame.

188—Buffalo Bill’s Arizona Alliance; or, Nav-
ajos Against Apaches.

189—Buffalo Bill’s Mexican Adventure; or, ‘The
White Indians of Yucatan.

166—Buffalo Bill’s Lightning Shot; or, The Red
Gulch Rescue, <

167—Buffalo Bill’s Bandit Friend; or, The Mys-
tery of the Black Riders.

168—Buffalo Bill at Bay; or, The Claim Jumper

: of Silver Gulch.

169—Buffalo Bill’s Dark Drive; or, Manton, the
Mountain Mystery.

170—Buffalo Bill’s Fair, Square Deal; or, The
Duke of the Dagger’s Dead Lock.

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All of the above numbers always on hand. If you cannot get them from your
newsdealer, five cents per copy will bring them to you by mail, postpaid.

Street & Smith, Publishers, 238 William St., New York

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CONTAINS THE BIGGEST AND BEST STORIES OF ALL
DESCRIPTIONS. A DIFFERENT COMPLETE STORY EACH
WEEK. FOLLOWING IS A LIST OF THE LATEST ISSUES: . *

58—The Erie Train Boy. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

59—Paul, the Peddler; or, The Fortunes of a Young
Street Merchant. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

60—The Five-Hundred-Doilar Check; or, Jacob Mar-
low’s Secret. By Horatio Alger, Jr

61—Backed by an Unknown; or, Dick Darrell’s Huse
for a Living. By Cornelius Shea:

62—All Aboard; or, Life on the Lake. By Oliver Optic.

63—Phil, the Fiddler ; or, The Story of a Young Street
Musician. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

64—Dick Halladay’s Pranks; or, Fun at Strykerville
Academy. By W. L. James, Jr.

65—Slow and Sure; or, From the Street to the Shop.
By Horatio ‘Alger, Jr.

66—Little by Little; or, The Cruise of the Flyaway.
By Oliver Optic.

67—Beyond the Frozen Seas < or, The band of the Pig-

mies. By Cornelius Shea.

68—The Young Acrobat; or, The Great North Ameri-
can Circus. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

69—Saved from the Gallows; or, The Rescue of Charlie
Armitage. By Matt Royal.

zo—Checkmated by a Cadet; or, Conquered-by Chance.

f By Harrie Irving Hancock.

71—Nuggets and Nerve; or, The Two Boy Miners.

By Frank Sheridan.

- 73--Mile-a-Minute Tom; or, The Young Enginees of
Pine Valley. By Cornelius Shea.

73—Seared With Iron; or, The Band of Skeleton Bar.

By Cornelius Shea.

74—-The Deuce and the King of Diamonds; or, Two
Southern Boys in South Africa. By the author
of “Among the Malays.”

75—Now or Never; or, The Adventures of ae
Bright. By Oliver Optic. — :

76—Blue-Blooded Ben; or, Two Princeton Pals. By
the author of “Hal Larkin.”

77—-Checkered Trails; or, Under the Palmettoes. By
Marline Manley.

78—Figures and Faith; or, Messenger Clinton’s Chance.

wae By the author of “The Hero of Ticonderoga.”

- 99—The Trevalyn Bank Puzzle; or, The Face in the

Locket. By Matt Royal.

80—The Athlete of Rossville; or, The Isle of Serpents. —

By Cornelius Shea.
81—Try Again; or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry
West. By Oliver Optic.
- @2—The Mysteries of Asia; or, Meese the Komdafs.
By Cornelius Shea. ‘

“s

Py

 

83-—-The Frozen Head; or, Puzzling the Polica By
Paul Rand. Ce

84—Dick Danforth’s Death Charm; or, Lost in the
South Seas. By the author of “The Wreck of
the Glaucus.” :

_8s—Burt Allen’s Trial; or, Why the Safe was Robbed.
By W. A. Parcelle.

86—Prisoners of War; or, Jack Dashaway’s Rise from — x

the Ranks. By “Old Tecumseh.”

87—A Charmed Life; or, The Boy with the Snake Skin
Belt. By-the ‘author of “Among the Malays.”

88—Only an Irish Boy; or, Andy Burke’s Fortunes,
By Horatio Alger, Jr. .

89—The Key to the Cipher; or, The Boy Actor’s Strug-
gle. By Frank J. Earll.

90—Through Thick and Thin; or, Foes to the Last.
By Walter J. Newton.

o91—In Russia’s Power; or, How Two Boys Outwitted

the Czar. By Matt Royal.

92—Jonah Mudd, the Mascot of Hoodooville; or,
Which Was Which? By Fred Thorpe.

93—Fighting the Semmoles; or, Harry Emerson’s Red

Friend. By Maj. Herbert H. Clyde.

94—The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the Streets, By
Horatio Alger, Jr

95—-The Pass of Ghosts; or, A Yankee Boy in the Far

: West. By Cornelius Shea.

096—The Fortunes of a Foundling; or, Dick, the Out-

cast. By Ralph Ranger.

97—The Hunt for the Talisman; or, The Fortunes of
the Gold Grab Mine. By J. M. Merrill.

o8—Mystic Island. The Tale of a Hided: Treasure.
By the author of “The Wreck of the Glaucus.”

99—Capt. Startle; or, The Terror of the Black Range.
By Cornelius Shea.

100—Julius, the Street Boy; or, A Waif’s: Rise from
Poverty. By Horatio Alger, Jr

1oi—Shanghaied; or, A*Wanderer Against His Will.
B

y H. C. Emmet.
to2z—Luke Jepson’s Treachery; or, The Dwarfs of the
Pacific. By the author of “The Wreck of the
Glaucus.” anak
103—-Tangled Trails; or, The Mystery of the Manville
Fortune. By Clifford Park.
104—James, Langley & Co.;‘or, The Boy Miners of Salt
River. By the author of “Capt. Startle.”
ros—Ben Barclay’s Courage; or, The Fortunes of a
Store ney Py Horatio ee Jr.

 

 

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Shirley’s Lovers’ Guide. By Grace Shirley

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Guide to Etiquette. By L. W. Sheldon
Physical Health Culture. _ By Prof. Fourmen

Frank Merriwell’s Book of Physical
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National Dream Book. By Mme. Claire Rougemont
Zingara Fortune Teller. By a Gipsy Queen

The Art of Boxing and Self-Defense.
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The Key to Hypnotism. By R. G. Ellsworth, M.D. 3

U. S. Army Physical Exercises.
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Heart Talks With the Lovelorn.

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i AD Bae ee ee ee
H. RIDER HAGGARD’S
Famous Companion Story to “SHE”?

If not, the following comprehensive synopsis will enable you to
continue the stgfy in the February number (now ready) of

THE POPULAR MAGAZINE

Leo Vincey and Horace, Holly make their way back to England after their terrible

adventures in Kor (as described in ‘‘She’’), but the spirit of unrest is in them, and Leo

yearns to see his lost love once more—for, be it remembered, when Ayesha perished in
ES the flames of the Pillar of Life she called to her lover that she would come again and
would once more be beautiful. Finally, tortured by uncertainty, Leo is on the verge ot

Are You 66 A h 99
a Reading yes a |

taking his life when a vision comes to him in which he sees Ayesha and is guided by her to

where she may be found. The place seems to be in Asia, and the distinguishing feature |
is a towering, loop-shaped mountain peak supported by a lava stem hundreds of feet
high. Through it shines a fire which rises from the crater of a volcano just beyond. d

The two men go in search of this mountain peak, and finally reach a lamasery in Thibet,
where they hear of a woman who answers the description of ‘‘She’” and who seems to
possess some of her power. They learn that this mysterious woman may be found on
the further side of a well-nigh impassable mountain range. Leo and Holly, after frightful
hardships, reach the land of Kaloon, where they are hospitably received by the Khania,
or queen. They learn that on the fire-crowned mountain which they are in search of,
and which is not far away, is a mysterious priestess who is always veiled. The inhabi-
tants of Kaloon and the people of the mountain have long Been on unfriendly terms,
but there is now a sort of armed truce. Bysome means the veiled priestess has learned:
of the coming of the two strangers across the mountain, and has sent word to that
effect to the Khania, together with the demand that they be sent to her. Atene, the
Khania, falls in love with Leo and resolves to wed him, even though this will necessitate
doing away with her present husband. Atene sends the veiled priestess word that the
strangers have arrived, but that. they are both very old and so physically worn that they
will be unable to obey her behest to come at once to her domains. Holly soon discovers
the true condition of affairs, but he barely has time to warn Leo when.they are con-
fronted with the most frightful peril of their journey—the peril of ‘‘the Hounds of Death!”

 

THE POPULAR MAGAZINE for February, now on sale, contains the sécond
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