~

a

Issued Weekly. By subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., N.Y.
Copyright, 1910, by STREET & SMIT

NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 5, 1910. Price, Five Cents

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

  

yeceeed

 

yelled and Two-for-a-quarter kicked out valiantly. Buffalo Bill gave swift attention
to Old Moonlight, cutting his bonds and freeing him.

 
 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

issued Weekly. By subscrebhion $2.50 ger year. Entered as Second-class Matter at the N. V.. Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., N. VY, es

 

Copyright, 1910, 6y STREET & SMITH.

 

is” Beware of Wild West imitations of the Buffalo Bill Stories. They are about fictitious characters. The Buffalo.
Bill weekly is the only weekly containing the adventures of Buffalo Bill, Oe W. F. Cody), who is known ail

over the world as the king of scouts.

 

No. 456.

NEW YORK, February 5, 1910.

Price Five Cents.

 

BUFFALO BILL AND OLD

 

MOONLIGHT;

OR,

A Red Man’s Friend

 

_ By the author of “BUFFALO BILL.”

 

CHAPTER I.
A STRANGE APPOINTMENT.

Buffalo Brfl’s visit to Virginia City, Montana, was the
beginning of a most remarkable series of events—events
that surprised and bewildered the scout and his pards.
The queer proceedings began with a letter asking the
scout to come to the big camp in Alder Gulch and help a
friend in a matter that was of vital concern to the writer.

What this vital matter. was the letter did not state.
Furthermore, the communication was signed “John
Wyman”—a name the scout had never heard before.

The scout and his pards went to Virginia City, not
‘particularly because Buffalo Bill wanted to favor his
unknown correspondent, but because other business called
him in that particular direction.

The letter specified Tuesday, the twelith day of the
month, as the day John Wyman-would meet the scout: in
Virginia City. The scout and his pards arrived in the
camp early Monday forenoon.- the eleventh.

Little Cayuse, although recovering nicely from a frac-
tured leg, was far from having his usual'strength.’ The
scout’s first care, therefore, was to make the Indian boy
comfortable and see that he did not suffer a backset from
the long overland journey which was just finished.

~The outfit secured accommodations. in the Happy

 

Days Hotel, and Little Cayuse was hustled off to break-
fast and then to the easiest chair about the place. Old
Nick Nomad and Wild Bill Hickok got over in one cor-
ner of the hotel office and cut into a game of seven-up.
Villum von Schnitzenhauser, otherwise the baron, put

a chip on his shoulder and strolled away looking for

trouble. As for Buffalo Bill, he laid a bee line for the
town marshal.

-The name.of this official was Andy Brezee. He was
long and lank, and was topped at one end with a mop
of carroty hair and built out at the other with a-pair of |
the largest feet ever brought into Alder Gulch. Brezee -
was proud of his feet, and boasted that his size in boots
wasn't carried in stock anywhere north of Denver. Be-
tween the carroty hair and the large underpinning, how-
ever, were six feet of steel-like muscle and pure grit.
Buffalo Bill*knew this, for he and Brezee were old-time
friends,

The marshal, as the scout stepped into his office, had
his gigantic pedal extremities lifted to the top of a pine
table which served as his desk. His chair was tilted back
on its hind legs and his hands were clasped at the back
of his head. Two young howitzers, pendent from a belt,
swung ominously on either side of the tilted chair, their
muzzles almost touching the floor. Brezee’s eyes were on
the ceiling and he was softly whistling.

Turning his head with lazy interést as the door closed

 
 

2 THE BUFFALO

the tune suddenly died away on his lips. He stared, then
gureled with amazement; the next moment he had
dropped his feet from the table with a thump that made
the windows rattle.

“Cody!” he whooped, putting out his hand.
I’m stumped for fair! How?” ie |

“Tolerablé, Brezee,” said the scout, gripping the mar-
shal’s hand cordially.

“What brings you to Alder Gulch?”

“Two things,” was the reply as the scout dropped
into a chair. “The first and more important can wait
for a week or so. The other is this”—he tossed John
Wyman’s letter to Brezee—“and I don’t know whether
that can wait or not.” .

The marshal read the letter.

“Wyman, Wyman,’ he mused, when the reading was
done. “That’s a new one on me, Buffalo Bill,”

“Queer you. never heard of him. You know pretty
near every one in this camp, don’t you?”

“There ain't a man, woman, or child I don’t know,
Buffalo Bill, and this John Wyman person isn’t)in Alder
Gulch. That’s flat. Some party has been stringin’ you
along,”

“It wasn’t the letter that brought me here

“But the fellow claims to be a friend!’

“T never knew a man by the name of John Wyman.”

“H’m! Some queer, don’t you think? Here’s a man
askin’ you to come to Aldér Gulch on a matter of vital
importance and workin’ on your sympathy by claimin’
to, be a friends “But he aint a dried, says you; and,
what’s more, he don’t tell at what particular place in
town this appointment is to be kept. M’m!”

Brezee began to whistle again.

“Quite likely,” said the scout, “John Wyman hasn’t
reached Virginia City yet.”

“That ain’t only quite likely, Buffalo Bill,” returned
the marshal, “but it’s a cinch. Question is, is he in-
tendin’ to come?”

“T’m not bothered about that. If we meet up, it’s
John Wyman’s lookout. He seems to be the one to win
or loose by our crossing, or not crossing, trails. How
are tricks, Andy ?”

Buffalo Bill returned the letter to His
. conversation drifted into other channels.

“I've got this community pretty well in hand, pard,”
replied the marshal, “but there are some doings, up and
down the gulch, that’s a little off color: -That don’t
worry me a heap,.of course, but if it should happen that
the whelps who're back of the play hang’ out in this
_¢amp, then that lets me in on it a whole lot. So far,
though, I’m not lettin’ myself get gloomed up so you
can notice.”

“What's wrong?”

“Stage from Alder halted and the passengers stripped.
A big gun from Helena lost his watch, a diamond ring,
and a wallet full of greenbacks.: Greenbacks! Say, I
haven’t seen one for so long I’ve almost forgot how a
greenback looks. They don’t float around much in a
gold country like this,”

“A stage robbery is nothing new, Brezee.’’

“No more it ain’t, Buffalo Bill, What’s new about this
robbery was the way it was done. It was a sort of now-
you-see-it-and-now-you-don’t trick-—you know the kind.
A fellow waves his hand and says ‘presto!’ and then, lo
and behold you, three other robbers are in the road. The

“Well,

3?

 

pocket and the

of Te ey aoe re i es Pry SC ta see

LR a ich Lor pe eT eM TR ERT HN PNY ae m

MILL STORIES.

stage driver swears they pushed up through the dirt of
the frail, guns in their hands and all ready for b, i, z, biz.
When the work was finished, there was another wave
of the hand and the whole outfit melted into the trail
again.”

Buffalo Bill laughed.

“The stage driver must have
forty-rod,’ he commented.

“The passengers must have sampled it, too. How-
ever, as | remarked, I’m not losing any sleep. If it hap-
pens that thé hold-up boys are hatching their plots in this
camp, then the case will be different. But I've got to
find that out before I get excited. Tell me, though, why
you're not in the Injun country, scouting for Uncle
Sam?’

For an hour the scout visited with Brezee; then, leay-
ing the marshal’s office, he proceeded to make inquiries
up and down the street for John Wyman,

It was not a matter to claim much of the scout’s at-
tention, and yet he was conscious of rather more than a
passing interest in his mysterious correspondent. In-
quiries were fruitless, however, and the scout returned
to the Happy Days hang-out for dinner.

- “What's new, Buffler?” inquired old Nomad after he
had carried Little Cayuse into the dining room and
propped him up in a chair.

“Nothing, Nick,” answered the scout.

“Didn’t you find this John Wyman?’ queried Wild
Bill. :

“No one in the camp knows anything about him.”

“Waugh!” snorted the trapper, “Ud like ter come
company front with the feller thet’s got narve enough
ter give this hyar outfit a wrong steer! But what’s the
other bizness thet fetched us ter Alder Gulch?”

“That will keep for a week or so, Nick,” returned the
scout,

“Mebbyso,” grumbled the discontented old trapper;
“T reckon ther bizness'll keep a heap better’n what:I will.
Think ’o’ et, Pard Hickolke—a week er so without nothin’
doin’ !’”’

The Laramie man grinned.

“T reckon we'll have to stick it out; Nick,’ said he.

“Where's the baron?’ asked the scout.

“Thar’s a bakeshop up the street run by a feller called
Kustar. Pies is quoted, up at Kustar’s, at a dollar each,
an’ the baron is riotin’ away a double-eagle on a mess 0’
dried apples between two crusts. Waugh! What a
ornery Duteh appetite the baron’s got!”

_ The afternoon passed uneventfully. Most of the time
the pards sat out in front, watching the vacant lot across
from the Happy Days. About five o’clock the baron
staggered in, both hands,on the pit of his stomach and
his eyes rolling. The pies had got him into trouble.
He went to his room and turned in.

After supper there came two hours of smoking and
talk, then Cayuse was tucked away in his bed and
Nomad and Buffalo Bill went to their own room.

The room occupied by the scout and the trapper was’

been sampling the Alder

in the front of the second story of the hotel, and its one

window commanded a view of the vacant lot, Little the
pards recked, as they dozed off to sleep, what a surprise
that vacant lot was to spring on them—and on the entire
camp, for that matter—the following morning,

Buffalo Bill slept like a log. It seemed to him as
though his head had hardly touched the pillow when he

 
 

THE BUFFALO

was lifted bodily out of his blankets by a hair-raising

"yell from old Nomad.

The trapper was standing in front of the window. It

- was broad day, and Nomad was staring through the win-

>

dow and muttering.

“What’s the matter with you, Nick?’ demanded the
scout. .

“No cumtux,”’ breathed the trapper. ‘“Mebby I’m
locoed an’ mebby I ain't. Come hyar, Buffler, an’ tell me
ef ye see ther same thing I do.”

The scout, profoundly impressed with his old pard’s
excitement, hurried to his side and followed with his
eyes the direction of Nomad’s pointing finger.

“Is thet a house?” asked Nomad huskily. “Ef et is,
then I’m er Piegan ef et didn’t.come up in ther night like
er pizen toadstool!’

The scout himself was astounded. On the lot, which
had been vacant the @vening before, was now a very
substantial cottage—a neater and more substantial cot-
tage than had, up to that moment, been erected in the
camp. 8

It was trimly painted—a most unheard-of thing in
that camp of rough lumber and logs—and there. were
curtains at the windows and a big, easy rocking chair on
the porch. To top the thing off, a cheerful haze was
rising lazily upward from the kitchen chimney.

The scout rubbed, his eyes and stared. He was still
staring. when a commotion in the street attracted his at-

tention.

ere RE

CHAPTER IL.

THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.

The excitement in the street was caused by some of
the residents of the camp. Half a dozen of them were
coming from both directions, each party laying a course
that would bring it to close quarters with the other in
front of the Happy Days Hotel.

All eyes were on the cottage—and the eyes were bulg-
ing. Fingers were pointed in bewilderment. What talk
there was confined itself to hushed and awed voices.

“What’s going on?” asked the scout, leaning out: of
the window and calling to those who had halted in front
of the hotel.

Those below. looked up.

“Blamed if we know, Buffalo Bill,” said one of the
men. ‘There was a vacant lot over there last night, an’
this mornin’ there’s a house on it—a shack no feller could
build in less’n a week.”

“Reg’lar palace of er house!” muttered another, catch-
ing his breath.

“Mebby it ain’t no house at all,’ chimed in a third, »

“only jest a mirage. I’ve seen.them mirages, you bet—
hull cities built o’ brick, same’s in Denver an’ ’Frisco.
I’ll go ye a pound o’ dust it ain’t nothin’ but a mirage.”

“Stuff!” scoffed another. ‘That house is real. There
ain’t no mirage about that.”

“Tt ain’t possible!”

“Waal, then, it is.~ Lf the house wasn’t there we
couldn’t see it.”

Old Nomad had drawn back into one corner of the

room and was splashing his head with water from a tin
wash dish.
“Cold water is good fer the loco,” said he, as the scout

BILL STORIES. , | 3

turned toward him. ‘When a ole rawhide like me gits
ter seein’ houses whar thar ain’t nothin’ but vacant lots
et’s high time somethin’ was did ter him.” :

“Nonsense, Nick!” laughed Buffalo Bill. “You’re not
the only one that sees the house. I saw it, and a crowd
in the street is looking at it now. Let’s get into: our
clothes and go down.”

They dressed hurriedly and made theiryway down the
stairs.and out of the hotel.. The crowd had been gather-
ing rapidly, and there were now more than twenty people
gaping at the trim little cottage with its porch, its rock-
ing chair, and the plume of smoke arising from the
kitchen chimney.

The baron was there, and so was Wild Bill, and Andy
Brezee. Everybody was staring, and rubbing his eyes,
and asking useless questions.

“Wouldn’t that rattle your spurs, Cody?” inquired
Brezee, elbowing his way to the side of the scout.
“Strangest thing I ever heard of. More of that ‘presto’
business, I’m thinkin’.”’

“Vat a keveer ting for a house to grow oop like dot
muttered the baron. ‘“Dere iss some monkey-doodle
pitzness aboudt dot, I bed you.” -

“And never a nail was pounded,” put in Wild Bill.
“I’d have heard it, if there had been. By gorry, pards,
in up a tree.”

“Who owns the lot?” asked the scout. f

“Some feller back East,’ answered Brezee. “I'd give
a bunch of dinero to know where that house came from.”

“Why don’t ye waltz over and find out, Andy?’ sug-
gested one of the bystanders. _ “There must be somebody
ter home. From the looks 0’ that smoke I reckon there’s
some ‘un in the kitchen gittin” breakfast.”

Brezee half started, then checked himself with a sharp
exclamation. The kitchen door had opened and a man
had walked leisurely out.

The man was an Indian. Calmly he made his way to a
woodpile, gathered up an armful of sticks and as calmly
vanished inside the kitchen again. The crowd in the
street fell to exchanging mystified glances.

“An Injun, by gorry!” exclaimed Wild Bill.

“Und dere iss a voodpile along mit der house!” whis-
pered the baron.

“An’ the pizen red is workin’! grunted the old. trap-
per. “A-buck Injun rustlin’ wood jess like er squaw!”

“Never seen anythin’ to beat it!” mumbled Andy
Brezee. ‘Fine little house, too. I reckon there ain’t a
finer in the camp. What’s,more, Buffalo Bill, there ain't
stuff in this camp that could be used ‘to build such a
wickiup. Which, you'll admit, makes the fact o’ the
house being here all the stranger. Say, I wonder if this
whole town is locoed? I almost hate to go over there
for fear I won't fiyAl nothing but air!”

“Tf ye do go Over there, Andy,” quizzed one of the
crowd, “don’t git them feet o’ your’n on the porch—
ye’d likely hev the hull ranch down about yer ears.” :

“Wow!” commented another. “Say, Andy couldn't
git them feet on the porch—it ain’t wide enough.”

“Vou fellows can talk a heap without sayin’ any-
thing,” retorted Brezee. “I’m going over there and
see who this Injun is that’s come into town so sudden.
Like to go with me and make the call, Buffalo Bill?”

“Sure,” replied the scout.

“Wait er minit, Buffler,” cautioned Nomad.

*

2?
|
:

“EE

 
 

 

SEES IGRI i ER RY UI SL Ui AH IN ee ar Rg 2 NO NP TREE Sr rac HO ye enw THe NTE Ie

4. f THE BUFFALO

whiskizoos hev got anythin’ ter do with thet thar shack,
you better fight shy o’ et!”

“Whiskizoos?” echoed Brezee.

The scout laughed.

“Whenever anything happens that Pard Nomad can’t
understand, Andy,’ said he, “he lays it to the whiski-
ZOOS..”’

“What are they?” !

“T don’t know, and | don’t think Nick does. As near
as I can figure out, a whiskizoo is a spook—one of the
sort that’s muy malo.”

“Thet’s right, pards,” asserted the old trapper be-
tween his teeth. “A whiskizoo is shore bad medicine. I
wouldn't tamper none with thet house, ef I was you.
Stay hyar an’ watch et fer a minit, an’ I'll gamble et
goes up in er puff o’ smoke.”

The baron was about the only man in the crowd who
seemed to take any stock in Nomad’s superstitious be-
liefs.

“Meppy it vas viskizoos/I don’d know,” he breathed.
“Ven you don’d know nodding aboudt someding, den it
iss pest dot you leaf him alone und—whoosh!”

The baron broke off with a startled cry. What he had
seen had been clearly discerned by every one else in the
crowd. A curtain at the front window had fluttered and
a face had looked out for a second.

“There!” cried Wild Bill. “That was a white man’s
face. The Injun’s not the only one in the=place.’’
“Mebbyso’ ther Injun’s a whiskizoo,” suggested the
trapper, in all seriousness. “Mebbyso he was er Injun
when he went ter the woodpile an’ changed hisself inter
a white man when he looked from ther winder.”

This was too much, even for the baron. A laugh went
up at the old trapper’s expense. But there was nervous-
ness in that crowd, for all that.. They were face to face
with something that defied the logic of possibility, and not
a man of them would rest easy until there had been a
little more light thrown on the mystery.

“Let's go aver, Andy,” said the scout, pushing through
the crowd.

“I’m with you, pard,’”’ answered the marshal.

They had no more than reached the middle of the
street when a man.came through the front door of the
house. He was a white man and in his shirt sleeves. He
wore a white shirt, too, and this—in a town where blue
flannel was worn exclusively—was another remarkable
point.

Carelessly the man dropped down in the rocking chair
and swung his slippered feet to the rail of the porch. He
had a newspaper in his hand and began to read.

“All same ‘Frisco and Denver,” murmured Andy

'Brezee, “Krom the looks of that ombray, Buffalo Bill,
youd think he had a notion he was back East some’rs.
Say, all this is sure getting on my nerves. Why don't
ye say something ?”’

The scout had no answer ready. Like the marshal

he was becoming more and more puzzled.

“Let’s go on,” said Buffalo Bill, “and sift this matter
down to the bed rock.”

They walked on until they reached the porch rail, The
man on the porch seemed to be deeply interested in his
newspaper and did not look up.

“Hello, pilgrim!” called Brezee

The man’s eyes slowly lifted.

oo ged Ona Pe " a
ap IRS TEN Fag RETENTION Co er

Bill, STORIES.
’ he returned, smiling.

“Good morning, gentlemen,’
He lifted his

“Come up on the porch and sit down.”
voice. “Moonlight!” he called.

The Indian appeared in the door, _

“Two more chairs,’ said the mysterious master of the
place, indicating the scout and the marshal,

The chairs were brought and the two sat down.

“Moonlight!” muttered Brezee. “Seems more like
moonshine ter me.”’

“Your being here like this,” observed the scout, “is
rather remarkable. This house wasn’t here last night,
and it’s hard for us to figure out how it got here this
morning.”

The owner of the house waved his hand deprecatinely.

“That’s the way I like to do everything,” he laughed.
“T’m full of surprises.”

“T reckon you are,” returned the marshal, “Who
might you be, pilgrim ?”’
. £
“John Wyman is the name,” was the answer. “I’ve

an appointment with Buffalo Bill, and it tickled my fancy
to bring my house and Moonlight along when I kept the

appointment. Don’t you recognize an old friend, Buf-
falo Bill? I’ve been waiting for you to say something.

Look at me, man! Think! I was with Custer, on the
Little Big Horn, and was killed by Rain-in-the-face,
Now do you recognize me?”

Andy Brezee gasped and slid down in his chair. The
king of scouts straightened erect and leaned forward,
peering into the face before him with wide eyes.

CHAPTER TY.
JOHN WYMAN.

“Well, yes,” murmured the scout, “I do recognize you
now. How are you, Wyman?’

“A-one,’ answered the man who had been killed on
the Little Big Horn. “I knew you’d come to Virginia
City, Buffalo Bill, if I sent for you,”

“Where have you been, Wyman, since—since you
were killed ?”

“Hunting for: Harkness—trying to get even with
Harkness. I have followed that treacherous hound all
over the West, from the Rio Grande to Puget Sound, and
from the Golden Gate to the Missouri. I haven’t got
even with him, so far, but with your help I’m going to
do it now.” John Wyman leaned forward. ‘‘He’s here,
in this camp, Buffalo Bill!’

“What is his full name?”

“Abner Harkness.”

Brezee shook his head.

“No such’man in Alder Gulch,” he declared.

The marshal was only human, and this talk of Wy-
man’s ahout having been killed by Rain-in-the-face had
got on his nerves. Wyman turned to him with a laugh.

“That’s his real name,” said he, “but it isn’t what he
calls himself now.’

“What's his present name ?”

“I will tell that to Buffalo Bill—and to no one else.”

“Correct! I’m marshal of this town, Mr. Wyman,
and I’d like to have you tell me how you got here, how
long you're going to stay. and what your business is.
The way you dropped in on us is some peculiar and
ought to be explained.”

 
 

THE BUFFALO

“T never explain my actions,”
dignity, “unless it suits me to do so. Just now it doesn’t
suit me. You say you’re the marshal. Well, what right
have you got to question me? I’m not a lawbreaker.”

“You're occupying a lot that belongs to a man in the
East,” returned Brezee. “What right have you got to
do that?”

“Moonlight!” called John Wyman.

The stoical redskin appeared in the door.

“Bring me my coat,’ said Wyman.

The coat was brought and Wyman drew a folded
paper from one of its pockets.

“Just read that, Mr. Marshal,’
the paper to Brezee.

The marshal read the paper with growing surprise
and perplexity. Then he panded the document to the
scout.

Buffalo Bill found it to: i Written permission for
John Wyman to occupy the lot as long as he wished.
The paper was signed by a strange name—presumably
the man who owned the lot.

“Is that satisfactory?’ inquired Wyman,

J “Tereckon it is,” muttered Brezee. “But what are You
doing here?”

_ “Buffalo Bill is going to help me break even with
Harkness. When my work is done I'll leave.”

fai won't stand for any gun play,” averred the mar-
shal. “If that’s your game you ‘ll have to pass it up.’

“Tt’s not my game.

“How’d you get this house here?’

“T don’t have to tell anybody that.”

Brezee got up and began softly whistling his favorite
air. He was dissatisfied with the results of his interview.

“I’m goin’ to leave you to talk with Buffalo Bill,” said
he, “but before I go I want to tell you flat that I don’t
like this hocus-pocus way of doin’ things, If you get
Buffalo Bill on your side it’s a big card, but you walk
pretty straight, John Wyman, or you'll have me camped
on your trail.”

Brezee turned and tramped heavily away.
stared after him with a grim smile.

said John Wyman, with

he went on, handing

Wyman
“When a man goes gunning for justice, Buffalo Bill,”
he remarked, “it’s apt to give him a bad name. That
crowd out there in the street doesn’t seem overly
friendly.”

“The crowd is surprised, Wyman,” returned the scout.
“You can hardly blame the people for that.” .
‘ ©“—Pve had this house all built and furnished, tucked
away ina draw back of town, for two weeks,’ went on
Wyman. “Two teams of horses and four stout wheels
were all I needed to get it here during the night. Moon-
light had already surveyed the course and made sure
there were no obstructions to hinder the work. The men
and teams were from Alder, and sworn to secrecy, and
the moving was done in the small hours of the morning
when there was no one abroad in the camp to see what
was going on. It was an easy job, Buffalo Bill, and if
those fools out there would think a little they could
reason it out for themselves.”

The scout was amazed.

“Why did you go to all that trouble?’ he asked,

“That's my way. I like to surprise people.” His brow
lowered. “Most of all, I want to surprise Harkness,” he
added.

“What have you got against @his man Harkness?”

3

BILL STORIES. | 5

“He robbed my brother, in St. Louis, years ago. My
brother was collector for a'firm of cotton brokers in New
Orleans, and this double-dyed scoundrel, Harkness, sand-
bagged him one night, and stole some of the money my
brother had about him which belonged to his employers.
My brother was never heard of after that.”

“If your brother was never heard of after he was sand-
bagged,” said the scout, “how do you know what hap-
pened to him? How do you know this man Harkness
got the money?”’

Wyman crouched forward in his chair.

“Every week since my brother vanished,”
pered, “‘I have had a dream.

he whis-
In that dream I see a street

in St. Louis, I see my brother, and see Harkness. The
tragedy is enacted under my eyes, Buffalo Bill! I have

come back from the grave to play even with Harkness,
and before the veil closes over me again I shall have my
revenge!’

Buffalo Bill was deeply stirred. Wyman, he judged,
was a lunatic—a man obsessed with a single idea. There
was cunning in his movements, but it was the cunning of
a deranged mind.

 

“You say. you don’t want to kill this man Hark-
ness———”’ :
No. I know what it is to be killed, Buffalo Bill, and

it is a poor way to suffer for such a crime as Harkness
committed. This scoundrel stole once, and he will steal
again. My idea is to entrap him in some of his rob-
beries, and then let him go to prison. That is the way
to get even!”

“You are right there,” said the scout.
is @ poor way to ‘settle a score.
Wyman,’

The other put out his hand with a grateful smile.

“Lifelt sure you would not turn your back on a friend,”
said he, as the scout shook his hand.

d

“Killing a man -
I will help you,

“What. is the real name of this man who robbed your
brother ?’

“While in this camp he calls himself Bigelow, Jeremiah
Bigelow.”

“What do you want me to do

“Watch Bigelow,’ scowled Wyman.
single move of his.escape you. He’ll do something that
will enable us to bring him to time.”

The Indian appeared in the door.

“Mebbyso you come, make um eat,”
studying the scout w ith grave eyes.

“Take breakfast with me, Buffalo Bill?’ asked Wy-
man.

“TH join my pards at breakfast,’ answered the scout.
“We're stopping at the hotel across the street. Will you
stay here and keep quiet, Wyman, until 1 can give you
some news of Bigelow ? ‘

“Yes, answered Wyman readily. “Ill do whatever -
you say. You can work to better advantage than I can.
Bigelow knows I’m after him, and he'll be wary of me.
But he won't suspect you.”’

“Adios, then, for the present.”

Meditatively the scout left the house and crossed the
street. The crowd had begun to disintegrate by twos
and threes, but the marshal and the scout’s pards were
waiting for Buffalo Bill's report.

“What do you make out of it, Buffalo Bill?” inquired.
Brezée,

The scout touched his forehead significantly.

“Don't let a

said the Indian,

   

 
 

 

 

 

PR” EADS MINES AIS GB A Sab Nat MGI ERY SEN EGE AR A LI LOR REMC CLR Oe NOON | MERE A I NON

6 3 | THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

“Phet. feller’s -off ther jump, hey?” returned old
Nomad.

“He says he was killed by Rain-in-the-face at the
Custer massacre,” said the scout. ‘That alone proves
he’s unbalanced.” :

“Dot's der vorst foolishness vat I efer heard!’ ex-
claimed the baron.

“Why does he want to play even with this Harknegs ?”’
asked Brezee.

Buffalo Bill told of the brotheg who had been sand-’

bagged and robbed in New Orleans, of the brother’s
disappearance, and of the dreams Wyman had had-about
Harkness’ guilt.

' “He’s locoed for fair,” muttered the marshal. “I don’t
know but he ought to be jugged just to keep him out of
‘mischief.’ -

“Don’t do that,” said the scout. “He’s harmless, for
the present. Wyman has promised to stay in his house
while I try and find Harkness.”

“How did he get his house there, on that vacant lot, in
the night?” asked Wild Bill.

The scout explained it to him.

“Great guns!” muttered Brezee. “I'll look up the
draws around this camp and see if [ can find any trace of
the house having been moved from one of them. But
who is this man “Harkness, Cody? Did Wyman tell you
his real name?”

“Keep it quiet,” answered Buffalo Bill. “Wyman says
Harkness is in this camp under the name of Jeremiah
Bigelow.”

Brezee started and stared. Then he muttered angrily.
. “Do you know him?” the scout went on.

“Why shouldn’t I know him?” grunted Brezee. “Jere-
_-miah Bigelow is one of the solid men of the town.
What’s more, he’s my father-in-law!”

Lhe marshal, thoroughly disgusted, spun around on
his heel and strode off down the street. While the scout
and his pards were looking after him, a Chinaman came
out in front of the Happy Days and pounded the
breakfast gong.

39.

nn

CHAPTER JV.
A SEARCH—AND THE RESULT.

If the scout and his pards needed any further proof
that John Wyman was utterly irresponsible, the naming
of Brezee’s father-in-law as a thief oe more than
enough.

Buffalo Bill took Wyman’s affairs de -advisement.
He wanted to do something for the man, but naturally
he did not want to become entangled in the tragic va-
garies of a lunatic.

- If Cayuse had been able to render active service the

scout would have set him to trailing Jeremiah Bigelow—-

not because he suspected Bigelow, but merely to make
assurance doubly sure.

Following breakfast, Wild Bill himself suggested such.
a course.,

“T don’t reckon there’s any use shadowing the mar-
shal’s father-in-law, Pard Cody,” said the Laramie man,
“put I'd like to be doing something, and, if you say the
word, [’ll‘camp on his trail.”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea, Hickok.”
the scout.

answered
“It seems foolish to think that a relative of

the marshal’s could be mixed in any lawless work, but
there’s a mystery back of John Wyman, and I feel as
though we ought to run down every possible clue in try-
ing to solve it. The man interests me.’

‘Wild Bill went off to find Bigelow.

“Thet gives’ Pard Hickok somethin’ ter do,” growled
old Nomad, “but ain't thar anythin’ on ther docket fer

me, Buffler : ”

“Not at oe Nick,” said the scout.

“Then I’m goin’ ter git saddle leather on Hide-rack an’
hunt fer the draw whar thet thar house was cached.”

“Brezee is going to do that.”

“Thar ain’t no law ag’in two o’ us doin’ et, is thar? J]
got ter be doin’ somethin’,’

“Dot’s me, too,” chimed in the baron. “Oot I don’d
ged busy I vill go as crazy as der feller across der
shdreet. Nomat, you und me vill rite indo der goundry
und haf some looks for der blace vere dot house vas put
togedder.”

Action was what his pards needed, and although a ride
into the hills for the purpose they had in mind seemed
ragher useless, yet the scout did not interpose any a
tions.

Buffalo Bill had an object of his own in mind, and that
was, if possible, to meet the Indian, Moonlight, and have
a quiet talk with him. There was no doubt but that the
redskin, if he would talk, could let in a little light on
the character and history of John Wyman. Before the
scout proceeded very far, it would be well to learn all
he could about the strange man who had made such a
melodramatic entrance into the camp. one

Seating himself in front of the hotel, the scout kept
watch of the trim little house opposite.

Wyman and his Indian must long since have finished
their morning meal, but there was no sign'of Wyman on
the porch, and no sign of the Indian around the back
part of the house.

A half an“hour passed. During the half hour at least
fifty people of the camp had sauntered past the cottage
and stared at it awesomely. The curious ones, however,
did nothing more than stare. After satisfying their
curiosity in that way as well as they could, they went
about their business, shaking their heads in bewilder-
ment and speculating wildly.

Then, as the scout continued to watch, Wyman and
Moonlight came out of the house, locked the door behind
them, and made their way to.the street. Wyman waved
a hand in greeting to Buffalo Bill and set off down the
street toward the open country. The Indian followed
him, trailing close at his heels.

The Indian was old, but his body was erect and his
step springy as that of a young warrior.

People watched the two as they passed along the
street, but John Wyman spoke to nobody.

Where was he and the Indian going? the scout-asked
himself. Thinking it might be advisable to follow the
pair, the scout got up. from the bench on whickhe had
been sitting. Before he could move away, however, he
saw Brezee hurrying toward him.

“Wait a minute, pard!’’ called the marshal.

Seeing that Brezee had something of importance on
his mind, the scout gave over his intention of following
Wyman and the Indian,

“Did you find the plage where Wyman put his house

 
 

Rei ae

ST a Mas". ccnneemecty ah Cae tao 1c eee

Tei Se VSO TY BAGG URE GR it dale RRNA Scena lee est ee pS

THE. BUFFALO

together, Brezee?’’ asked the scout, dropping back on
the bench.

“Haven't looked for it yet,” replied the marshal, seat-
ing himself at Buffalo Bill’s side. “I was all ready to
start when I saw Wyman and the red pulling out. Then
I changed my mind about taking a pasear in the country.
What that lunatic said about my father-in-law kind 0’
rings me into this game. I don’t want Jerry Bigelow
to have any trouble on account of this crazy man if I can
help it. About the only way to help it, so far as I can
see, is to lock Wyman up. He told you he’d stay in his
house—but here he is hiking off into the country. You
can't depend on anythin’ a crazy man says, Buffalo Bill.”

“I reckon that’s a fact, Andy,”’ said the scout. “When
you stopped me I was just on the point of following
Wyman and the Indian and seeing where they went.”

“I know a trick that beats two of that.” °

“What is it?”

_“Why, we'll go over an’ get into that house and have
a look around. Mebby we'll find somethin’ that will give
us a clue.. There’s a whale of a mystery here, and I’d
like mighty well to get to the bottom of it. While those
two fellows are away there won't be any one to interfere
with us, and if we're careful to leave things just as we
find em Wyman and the red won’t never know we were
in the house.”

“That may be a good plan,” said Buffalo Bill. “If we
steal into the house, though, we ought to do it without
letting any of the people in this camp see us.”

“Correct! We'll work at the ‘dobe from behind.’

Guided by the marshal, Buffalo Bill went down the

‘street for a block or more, and then a détour was made

that carried the investigators to the rear. of some build-
ings on the side of the thoroughfare across from’ the
hotel. Here there were many open spaces, but the brush
was thick enough to screen the movements of the scout
and the’ marshal. Slowly they worked their way back
until they found themselves directly in the rear of Wy-
man’s cottage.

Here they saw the tracks of broad-tired wheels, set

wide apart.

“We're a lot of sapheads!” grunted the marshal.

_"That’s the way the house was brought in, all right

enough. Blamed queer nobody thought of that. till
Wyman let it out.”

“Houses can’t grow like mushrooms,” said the scout.
“The only way the house could have got here during
the night was by having it wheeled in.”

“Wyman took a hull lot o’ trouble just to spring a
little surprise,’ commented Brezee. “Now let’s sneak up
on the woodpile and try the.back door.”

“No use trying the front door,” returned the scout,
“or the back door, either. I saw them lock the door in
front, and of course they wouldn’t do that and leave the
door in the rear unfastened.”’

While the scout knelt behind the woodpile, Brezee

stepped across the narrow open space between the wood- .

pile and the house and tried the kitchen door. To the
scout’s surprise, it opened readily. There was a grin on
Brezee’s face’as he turned and beckoned to Buffalo Bill.

“Never can tell what a crazy man’ll do,” said he, when
the scout joined him inside the kitchen.

“Nor what some others will do,” answered the scout.
“The bolt that secured this door has been broken—and
by some one on the outside!’

This was a surprising fact.

eerie? - 7 1 ete ys near Spt exer patel ag
a Oe ete A tthe tia etesity
g

th et ae ua adh ah Sig Sas A Ate in WDA iin albnsifoyea
iiaacasliainitig ee SE ee Ee ne

YE TORR LLLe eee aOR ee eT

i stig py amr

BILL STORIES.

“Who could have done that?” murmured the surprised@
marshal. ;

“Give it up, Brezee. We're intruders, so let’s finish
our business as soon as we can and get out,”

This was good advice, and the search began immedi-
ately.

The kitchen was small and contained a diminutive
stove, a wood box, a table, a cupboard, and a.cot. There
was only one other room—the living room in the front
of the house.

, This room had a carpet on the floor, several easy-
chairs, a table, an oil lamp, and a cot covered with a
Navajo blanket. Only the most necessary articles of
furniture were in the room.

“Wyman must bunk in here,’ observed the marshal,
“while the Injun sleeps in the kitchen. Mighty peculiar
that this locoed white man should be hooked up with a
redskin !”

“There’s a lot of peculiar things about Wyman,” an-
swered the scout briefly. “He couldn’t load this house
down with too much furniture if he was going to bring
it here on wheels. It’s a boiler-plate house,’ he added,
looking around. “I reckon Wyman had it shipped in in
sections, and that all he had to do was to put the sec-:
tions together in the draw.”

Buffalo Bill took his place close to a\front window in

order to watch for the return of Wyman and the Indian.

“If I.see them coming,” said he, “we can get. out be-
fore they get in, Go on with your search, Andy, and [’ll
keep guard duty.”

There were not many places that the marshal could
look. He pulled, chairs out from the wall and looked
behind them, and peered behind a calico curtain that
swung across one corner of the room'and made a closet.
His search was fruitless.

At last he pulled up one edge of the blanket that cov-
ered the cot and drew out a carpetbag.

“Tf there ain't anything in this,” said he, ‘we might as
well get out.”

He opened the carpetbag and removed a wallet. The
wallet bore the initials “J. G.” in tarnished gilt lettering.
Brezee stared at the leather receptacle for a moment.

“*J. G. are not the initials of Wyman’s name,’ he ob-
served, dropping the wallet on the cot and again diving
into the carpetbag.

This time he brought up a gold watch and heavy chain.
Straightening erect with the watch in his hand, he stared
at the monogram on the lid. Wie

“What have you found?” asked the scout.

“A monogram on the watch, Cody,’ answered Brezee,
in a husky, excited whisper. “ ‘J. G.,’ the same that’s on
the wallet.”

“Wyman must have fooled us on his last name,” ven-
tured the scout. “If those initials count for anything,
then they prove that his last name begins with ‘G’ and not
with ‘W’.”

“It proves somethin’ else, Buffalo Bill,” said Brezee,
still excited.

“What else?”

“Why, that this Wyman ain’t so crazy as he wants
folks to believe! Remember I told you about that stage
that was held up between here and Alder? And that a
big gun was robbed of a wallet and watch?”

“What has that got to do with Wyman’s property?”

“his stuff doesn’t belong to Wyman. The name of

s *s
fdoivanr Senescence shiner inden sis Sioa ameosiae al ast gl eo

‘ 3 Saat othe som eh
Bie is Bi sti he a TN

Sasso

 

 
 

3 ‘ THE -BUPFALO

“that big gun was Jasper Glenning, and these in-

itials :

“Here they come!” broke in the scout suddenly, catch-
ing a glimpse of Wyman and the Indian approaching
along the street. :

“Tye found out what I wanted,’ growled the marshal.
“T’m going to stay right here and arrest Wyman and the
real”

“Not now!” counseled tlre scout. “There’s a lot more
to this than a mere stage hold-up. Let’s get out and get
to the bottom of this affair before we show our hands.”

- Brezee did not favor such a move, but he allowed him-
self to be guided by the scout. He put the watch and
the wallet into his pocket, however, before kicking the
carpetbag back under the cot and dropping the Navajo
blanket; then he followed Buffalo Bill through the rear
door.

 

CHAPTER V:
WILD BILL S REPORT.

By the same détour they had made in going to the
house, the scout and the marshal-returned to the street
and to the hotel. They*were’a couple of mightily sur-
prised men“as they dropped down on the bench where
they had been sitting a little while before. —

“This Wyman,” breathed Brezee, “is a robber. He’s
playing some sort of an underhand game with his magic
house, and his yarn about being killed during the Custer
massacre, atid all that. He’s a deeb one, pard, and that’s
my notion of him.”

The scout was thoughtful.

“Don't do anything,, Brezee,’. the scout cautioned, -

‘“intil we have a chance to go deeper into the matter.
Either we’ve learned too much or we haven't learned
enough.”

“Well, Cody, I can’t hold off and let Jerry Bigelow
get into trouble with Wyman: My wife would raise Cain
with me if anything happened to her father and she
found out that-I could have prevented it.”

“Nothing will happen to Bigelow.”

“T wish 1 was sure of that. This here’s the queerest
bag of tricks I ever opened up.” .

Just at this point old Nomad came around+the corner
of the hotel.

- “The baron’s lookin’ arter my hoss an’ thet mule o’
his,’ he. remarked, flopping down on the bench, “but ft
reckoned, Buffler, I’d better climb fer hyar an’ report.”
“Vou weren't away very long, Nick,” said the scout.
“Waal, no. Ye-see, pard, et wasn’t necessary fer us
ter stay away very long. We found the draw we wanted
ther very fust one we rid inter. We seen whar thet house
was put tergether an’ whar et was dragged from. Like-
wise, we found two sets o’ wheels, heavy enough fer a
gun kerridge, stowed away in the chaparral. Thet draw
is right in sight o’ this hyar camp, an’ et’s shore a won-
der some ’un didn’t see the shack when et was dragged
ter thet vacant lot.” ee
“Whiskizoos don’t make much noise when they work,
do they?” grinned the marshal, getting up. oe
“Waugh!” snorted the old trapper. ‘“What’s ther use
o’ rubbin’ et in? I allows.I made er mistake. Thar’s
sich a thing as whiskizoos, as mebbyso ye'll find out one

15st tte te te yn in oA hm sign pron ribet wet a Te MAR ta hn

epee Fe me aati SD MOIR NaI ar pe ae Se SENS SATS

te bik sp yrs Gos Seem Wc MMeieniS i cu ea gel ena ao nin wire Meet haapamuriewnh cok

 
   

Bill: STORIES.

© these days, but they didn’t hev nothin’ ter do with
Wyman an’ his house gittin’ inter Virginia City.’

“I'll pike for home, I reckon,” said the marshal, get-
ting up. “I want to have a palaver with Bigelow and
find out from him whether he ever knew a chap called
John Wyman. There’s a chance that he can give us
some information that'll count.”

“Don’t get fooled into doing anything against Wyman

“before we're ready to act,” the scout-again cautioned.

Brezee did not-answer but went off down the street
shaking his head forebodingly. He was hardly out of
sight before Wild Bill slipped out of the hotel and sat
down on the bench between the scout and the trapper.

“T’ve got a report, too,” he said, “but I didn't want to
give it while Brezee was around.” oN

“You found Bigelow?” queried the scout. —

“T did. He was playing poker in the Half-moon, one
of the toughest joints in the camp. He looks like a
pretty decent sort of a chap, but he was nervous. _ |
hadn’t much more than spotted him, and made out who
he was, when he cashed in his chips, leit the Half-moon,
and crossed the street.. I kept after him and wasn’t far
behind when he ducked in between two buildings and
took to the brush back of ’em. Then he worked his way
to the reat of that painted adobe, broke in the kitchen
door, and vanished inside.”

“Rroke in the kitchen door?” echoed the scout, think-
ing of the smashed bolt.

“Keno! I was behind the woodpile and saw the entire
performance. A few ‘moments before he broke in the
door, Wyman and the Indian left the front of the house
and moved along the street. Because of that, Pard Cody,
there wasn’t any one in the house to interfere.’ Bigelow
must have seen Wyman and the red leaving the place.”

“How long was Bigelow in the house?”

“About two minutes, I reckon. When he came out,
luckily for me, he gave the woodpile a wide berth and
struck out for the brush. I wanted to go into the house
and see what he had done on the inside, but reckoned
I’d better follow him. He went back to the Half-moon,
bought some more chips, and proceeded with his game.
What’s more, pard, he wasn’t half as nervous as he was
before. He’d relieved his mind somehow by that visit
to Wyman’s.” »

Here was a suspicious move on Bigelow’s part, and the
scout wondered why he had made it.

“Go back and keep after him, Pard Hickok,” said the
scout. ‘We're getting next to something of importance,
if I’m any prophet. Brezee and I were in the house, just
after you and Bigelow went away.--We wonderéd how
the bolt on the kitchen door had been broken.”

“What was you an’ Brezee doin’ in the house, Buf-
fler?” inquired old Nomad. ‘

“We wanted to get a line on Wyman, if we could,”
and forthwith the scout sketched the results of the search
he and Brezee had made.

The astonishment of Nomad and Wild Bill was great.

“Waugh! rumbled the trapper. “We're up ag’inst
the dizziest kind of a game.”

“It’s a brain-twister and no mistake,’ muttered Wild
Bill. “Vl keep after Bigelow, Pard Cody. He’s got a
pretty. big thumb in this pie, seems-to me.”

The Laramie man started back to the Half-moon. The
scout studied the trim little house opposite for several
minutes. .

Neither Wyman nor the Indian was to be seen. The

“

 

 

St Ed
home

_“Youwre just the man I wanted to see.

 

aa Syeda aR ON ENING TA aN AISA GUTOR ANAT AMAS EW ATTA. CARATS ERS MDM TO Heke

 

THE BUFFALO- BILL STORIES. \

~ front door was open, but the chair on the porch was

unoccupied.

“Tm going across to make another call on Wyman,
Nick,” said the scout, getting up. ‘Perhaps I can find
out something, i in an indirect way, about that wallet and

i watch.”

‘Nothin’ fer me ter do, Buffler ?”

“Nothing now, old pard, We may all have our hands
full later. I don’t like the way this affair is shaping
around,”

As the scout Stepped up on the ae and stood at the
open front door, he heard voices coming from the
kitchen.

“Wyman!” he called.

The owner of the house jappeared promptly in the
living room. He ‘seemed excited, and Buffalo Bill
thought for a moment that it was because he had dis-
covered the loss of the wallet and the watch.

“Buffalo Bill!” exclaimed Wyman, in a tone of ue
Come in and s
down. I’d rather talk this over with you inside the roe
that out on the porch.”

He took a tin box off a shelf and handed the scout a
cigar. tiehane one himself, he began walking uneasily
back and forth in the room.

“You and the Indian went off somewhere this morn-
ing,’ observed the scout, watching Wyman keenly.

“We went out to where we had the house,’ explained
Wyman. .“I wanted to make sure the men from Alder
had left the wheels safely hidden in the brush. I may
need those wheels again, for perhaps it may be necessary

_ for me to disappear as suddenly as I appeared. You

never can tell about these things—when you're after a
crafty scoundrel like Bigelow. I didn’t want Moonlight
to go with me, but there was no keeping him back. He
follows me like a shadow, and seems to be afraid that

Bigelow will try to wipe me out.”

“Did anything happen here while you and Moonlight

were away?”

“IT should say so!” exclaimed Wyman angrily. “Some
one broke in at the kitchen door. Of course it was Bige-
low. Who else would have done such a thing, in broad
daylight? He’s afraigd of me, he’s afraid of me,’ and
Wyman crooned out the words, over and over again.

Evidently he took a fierce satisfaction in the thought

‘that Bigelow was afraid of him.

“Was anything stolen while you were away?” . went
on the scout, trying to lead up to the contents of the

_carpetbag.

“Not a thing,’ laughed Wyman, “for the very good
reason that I was too wise to leave anything around that
could be stolen. That Navajo blanket”—and he pointed
to the cot—“‘has been disturbed. More than likely Bige-
low. looked into my carpetbag, hoping to find something
worth his while, but there was nothing in it—l left it
empty.”

To prove his word, Wyman deen the bag from under
the cot and opened it for the scout’s inspection. It was,

-as he had ’said, absolutely empty.

The scout was becoming more and more bewildered.
Wyman’s actions were not those of a guilty man. He
was irrational in some things, but he seemed to under-
stand exactly what he was doing, and to make no false
moves. If he was really one of those who had held up

the stage, it would have been the height of folly for him
/ Le

 

to leave the watch and the wallet in the carpetbag under
the cot,

While Buffalo Bill was turning these matters over in
his mind, the doorway was darkened by the form of the
marshal. There were two men'at his heels—one of them
rather stout and fairly well-dressed, and another in blue
shirt and corduroy trousers wie revolvers dangling at
his hips.

The armed man halted on the porch; the other one
came into the room with Brezee.

At sight of the marshal’s companion, Wyman gave a
shrill cry of rage and hurled himself forward. At that
moment Wyman was a terrifying spectacle, more like
an enraged panther. than a human being.

The scout jumped from his chair to intercept him, and
old Moonlight glided into the room, ready to aid his
master if needed,

 

CHAPTER VI
EX CLTENG Pore as

It was Buffalo Bill who caught Wyman and pushed
him away from the stout man who had entered the room
with the marshal., Wyman was not.a large man, but he
was wrought up to such a pitch of insane fury that the
scout had a very uncomfortable handful for about a
minute. .

Brezee had planted himself, on his big underpinning,
in front of the Indian. . The latter seermed on the point
of being about to hurl himself on the stout man, and the

~marshal’s hands clung to the grips of his arsenal as he

and the redskin glared at each other.

“Sit still, Wyman!” cried the scout sternly, holding
the crazy man down ina chair.

. “It’s, Harkness!” raved Wyman.
Take your hands off me!”

“Is your name Bigelow?” asked the scout, turning his
face toward the stout man.

“My name, yes, sir,’ replied the marshal’s companion.
“Muzzle that mad dog—you can’t do it too quick. He’s
not at all particular who he bites.’

“Stand by me, Buffalo Bill!” cried Wyman. shrilly.
“Bigelow will kill me, if you don’t watch him. I’ve been
killed once, and I don’t want to go back to eternity until
I’ve settled my score.”

There was something pitiful in this wild, unreasoning
talk—something that touched the heart of the king of
scouts. John.Wyman must have borne much to have
suffered such a complete overthrow of reason as he was
manifesting at that moment.

“Why have you come here,
scout. “You said——”

“T’ve heard something from Bigelow that makes it
necessary to take that lunatic up,” cut in the marshal, still
keeping his eagle eye or Moonlight.

“T’ll stand by you, Wyman,” said the scout soothingly
>to the man in the chair. “Moonlight,” he added sharply,
“go back to the kitchen.”

The Indian turned without a word and strode from the
room. /

“Now,” said the scout, removing his hands from Wy-
man and facing squarely around, “‘let’s get down to cases.
Why have you come here with Bigelow, Andy?”

“T went to the hotel to see you first, Cody,” replied the

Let meat biait

Andy?’ demanded the

   

 
 

a

marshal, “but Nomad said you was over here. So there
wasn’t anythin’ else for it but to come here.”

“You had a talk with Bigelow and he told you to come
here and arrest Wyman?”

“That’s the how of it. What Bigelow told me didn’t
leave me any choice.” The marshal turned to his father-
in-law. “Tell Buffalo Bill just what you told mie,” he
added.

“That man, Cody,” said Bigelow, pointing a tremulous
forefinger at Wyman, “is, as you can plainly see, a luna-
tic, and a mighty dangerous one. His mind is only off
of one or-two points, and he is as cunning in his plots as
a savage. I told’ Andy he is a particularly bold highway-
man, and I declare the same ting: to you now. You
needn’t take my word for it, though. . Wyman’s last
exploits were in the neighborhood of Cheyenne. Get
word from there about John Wyman, if you want proof.”

Wymdn, cowering in his chair, had been watching —

Bigelow with baleful eyes.

“You will get a bad record from Cheyenne about John
Wyman,” the crazy man snarled, “but why will you get
it? Because Bigelow is the thief and the highwayman,
and because he used: my name while he was stealing in
the vicmity of Cheyenne.”

“There!” grunted Bigelow, with a shrug of his shoul-
ders. “What better evidence could any one want that
Wyman is thoroughly irresponsible?”

“You can't put any stock in what a crazy man says or
does, Buffalo Bill,” said the marshal. ‘The only thing to
do is to ptit Wyman under lock and key.”

“T won't be put tinder lock and key!” screeched Wy-
man. “This is my house, and I order all of you, except
Buffalo Bill, to get out of it!”

“Take it easy, Wyman,’ murmured the scout, bending
over the man in the chair. “I said I was going to stand
by you, and I intend to do it.”

“You and I know blamed well, Cody,” spoke up the
marshal, “that Wyman stuck up that stage from Alder.”

“You had plenty of proof, I should think,” dropped in
Bigelow sarcastically. “Wyman’s crazy, I tell you, but
he can be cunning. His wits are plenty shatp enough
when you don’t tackle him on the subject of that mas-
sacre on the Little Big Horn.”

“l-was killed there,’ yelped Wyman, “but I came back
to revenge my brother! The dreams—the dreams!
Harkness, you robbed my brother of money that didn’t
belong to him, there in St. Louis! You sandbagged him
and robbed him—and what did you do with him aiter-
ward? For that crime youll settle with me, me!”

“That's his old illusion,” scowled Bigelow, “and I’m
getting tired df having him dog me all around the West.
No matter where I happen to settle down for a little
while, along comes Wyman about as suddenly and mys-
teriously as he came here, and proceeds to rob and plun-
der and try to lay it to me. That seems to be his idea
of revenge—-getting me trapped by the law as a thief. I
tell you, Andy, I’m tired of it, and it’s got to be stopped
here and now. You've got proof against him, and if you
can't send him to the penitentiary you can certainly land
him in some asylum. That’s got to be done.” —

‘It’s going to be done, Jerry,” averred Brezee, “you
can gamble a blue stack on that.”

A wild, imploring look gathered in Wyman’s face and
he grabbed the scout’s arm convulsively.

“Don’t let him beat me out, Buffalo Bill!’ begeed Wy-
man; “don’t let him get the best of me! What I’m telling

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO BILT. STORIES.

you is ‘the truth! I was killed by Rain-in-the-face, and ]
have come back from the grave to get revenge for my
brother. Bigelow says I’m crazy, but don’t you believe
him.. He’s talking for himself, when he says that, so you
won’t believe me, or help me. He’s afraid of me, I tell
you, and he’s afraid of what you'll do to help me. If |
was crazy do you think I could have put this house to-
gether in thesdraw and worked out the plan for getting
it brought here without the town knowing anything
about it? Don’t that prove ’m sane? I do things like
that so people will know I’m as reasonable as anybody.
Don’t turn against me, Buffalo Bill, because of what that
scoundrel says!”

“That’s enough o’ this raving,” cried Brezée, stepping
forward. ‘‘He’s got to go to the skookum: house, Bui-
falo Bill. I reckon you can see that as plain as I can.”

“Just. a minute, Andy,” said the scout. “I'd like a
few minutes’ talk with you and Bigelow in the kitchen
before you carry out your plans.’ |

“And while we're in the kitchen,” demurred Bigelow,
“Wyman will give us the slip. Don’t you take any
chancés with him, Andy!’

“T’ll not take any chances, Bigelow,’ answered the
marshal, “but this was Buffalo Bill’s case, first off, and
he’s got a right to have his say-so.” Brezee lifted his
voice, “Seymour!” !

“Hyer, Andy,” came the voice of the man at the door
as he stepped inside.

“Shut the door and lock it,’ ordered Brezee.

Seymour shut the door and turned a key in the lock.

“Now,” went on the marshal, “you stay right here and
watch the prisoner like a hawk. I’m going out in the
kitchen with Buffalo Bill and Bigelow for a little pow-
wow.”

“He won't play hob with me none,’ grinned Seymour
with a grim look at the man in the chair.

The three passed out into the kitchen and closed the
living-room door behind them. Moonlight, his arms
folded, was leaning moodily against the wall.

“Go outside for a while, Moonlight,” said the scout.

“Wait!” protested the marshal, stepping in front. of
the tedskin. “I want him as much as 1 do Wyman.
Accordin’ to the way I figger it, Buffalo Bill, he helped
Wyman rob the Alder stage.”

“You can get Moonlight when you want him,” re-
turned the scout. ‘“He’s loyal to Wyman and won't
leave the house while your prisoner is in the front room.”

“All right, then,” and Brezee stepped from in front of
the Indian and let him stalk through the kitchen door.
“Now, Buffalo Bill, what’s on your mind ?”

“This: I thought, and still think, that it’s better to
leave Wyman at liberty and watch him. In that--—”

“Never!” objected Bigelow. “He'll kill me, or some
one else, if you don’t nab him here and now. I tell you,
Wyman is as crafty as a fox.”

“It’s just because he is crafty that I think he ought to
be watched and allowed his liberty. You say, Bigelow,
that you think he’s a thief ——”

“T don’t think, I know!” ”

“They may know it in Cheyenne, but the evidence
weve dug up here don’t prove it.” ae

“That watch and wallet’, Andy was telling me
about———”’

“They wouldn't send Wyman to prison. Andy and |
found the back door broken open, when we came, and it’s

 

iy ale pean gto sft hia ea tes es el S
Sa a ar = acu seenmat) Seen On rm SSN > eae a

 

BE gi a

 

 
Vs

BS ah aia ta aan RRNA! Sas Rast gs Cage

 

Jae BUFFALO

possible some one may have smuggled those things into
the house and put them where they were found.”

“That's pretty far-fetched, Cody,” said Brezee.

A trace of pallor had shot through the face of Bigelow.
It did not escape the watchful eye of the scout.

~You talk like a fool, Cody,’ stormed Bigelow;
““the——”’ -
“That will do,” flashed the scout,*his temper on the
rise. ’“No man——”

This clash had no chance to go further. Just at that
moment there was a noise in the front room—a quick
fall of feet and the dropping of something heavy that
shook the cottage from floor to roof.

Buffalo Bill jerked open the door and headed the rush
into the living room. He, and those with him, saw

Seymour at full length on the floor; but they dig not >

see Wyman.
The chair in which Wyman had sat was still toda
A hasty glance around showed the door still locked and

. the two windows closéd. Brezee, with an ‘oath, leaped

to the corner and tore down the curtain. Wyman was
not behind it.

Astounded, the three men could only standsand stare
at each other. The scout was first to recover his wits.
Running, to the door he turned the key, then jerked the
door open and leaped to the porch.

Virginia City was pursuing the even tenor of its way,
but the missing man was nowhere in- evidence; and
neither was old Moonlight.

“They've skipped, both the red and Wyman!” fumed
Bigelow. “You're responsible, Buffalo Bill! If it hadn’t
been for you we'd have had both of ’em now!”

COAP TER Et.

=

THE SCOUT’S PLEDGE.

The marshal ran around the room, knocking over the
furniture and hunting furiously in the most improbable
places.. From the front room he rushed into the kitchen,

and from. the kitchen he tore out of the house and be-

gan beating up the scrub in the rear. He and Buffalo

Bill, who, had been searching around in front of the
e

house» met finally on the porch.

“Here's a pretty pass, pard!” growled the marshal.
“How in blazes did that lunatic ever get out of the
house? The key was turned in the lock of the front
door, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” returned the perplexed scout, “the door was
locked.’ He whirled on Nomad and Wild Bill, who\
from their place in front of the hotel had seen some-
thing was wrong and had crossed the street excitedly.
“Hickok,” inquired the scout, “did you see any one come
out of this house?”

“No one came out of it, Pard Cody,” replied Wild
Bill, “till you opened the door and showed yourself.”

“T’ll be even with you for this, Cody,” breathed Bige-
low, with savage emphasis. “You helped that lunatic
get away! You

“Hesh yer yaup!” cried old Nomad. He didn’t know

 

: what the trouble was about, but he did know that this

stout man was finding fault with his pard./ “Another
word out 0’ you an’ I’ll ram et back down yer throat!”
HELO Olly Nick, remonstrated Buttalo Bill “can

“ey

Ba MI oat Bt ts tenet
PAARL ae 25 PEO a LE, Sicnieh eects a

ICG IEA A ae REE AT TE ERTPIRTIOR Wler ie OR a Lo Wias "bo OAAT MLE Se MOP ae ne ee

» Seymour,

 

LEME GSES IS WSL ekg) GRIT NON PI ETE

Bill. Sl lLORIES. I]
take care of myself against Bigelow.” He stepped up
to the stout man and faced him squarely. ‘You've called
me a fool, Bigelow,’/said he keenly, “and now you’re
making threats. VIl not make any threats myself, but

_ you look out for me. That will be all.”

“Here, here!’ palpitated Brezee, tripping over his
feet to get close to the two men. “Bigelow, you want
to hold in on yourself. Buffalo Bill is my pard, you
understand; and, Cody, don’t forget for a minute. that
this here is my father-in-law.” —

“You ought to have married into a family that wouldn't
make such breaks, Brezee,’ said Wild Bill dryly.

“This isn’t doing anything to catch Wyman,” observed
the scout, his ,eye on the main object of the wrangle.
‘Vake to your horse, Brezee; ‘and you’ too, Nick,
Hickok,” he added, with a significant glance at the Lara-
mie man, “it would be just as well if you rode with
them. See what you-can-do, all of you, to overhaul
Wyman and bring him back. I'll give my attention to
a?

The scout’s look had told Wild Bill plainly that he
was to keep on trailing Bigelow.

“That’s. the talk!” cried Brezee, hurrying into the
street with Bigelow. ‘We’ ll get our horses and meet
you in front of Kustar’s.’

N6émad and Wild Bill, of course, did not know just ~
what had happened, but they would have further chance
to talk with the marshal when they met up with him
a little later.

The scout, without paying any further attention to
the pursuit, wheeled’and hurried back into the cottage.
He found Seymour sitting up on the floor, rubbing the
back of his head and looking around dazedly.

“Jee-mi-nee, what a wallop!’ he murmured grew-
somely.

“What happened to you, Seymour?” asked the scout.

“Seemed like the hull blamed buildin’ fell. on top o’
me. It was sartiniy a powerful thump.”

“How did you happen to get such a crack?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ ter figger out,” reflected Sey-
mour. \“I was standin’ there in front o’ Wyman an’ he
dropped a leetle sawed-off popgun on the floor. He was
about ter reach down for it, but I ordered him backfan’
bent over ter pick it up myself. Then’s when I got it.
on the back o’ the head. Whoosh! Say, I went down
an’ out like a wooden Injun.. Where’s Wyman?”

“That’s a mystery, Seymour,” answered the scout. “We
heard you fall, and rushed in here from the kitchen. We
weren’t more than half a minute in coming, but Wyman
had vanished. His chair was still rocking, just as he
left it, but he wasn’t in the room. The door was locked,

122s

and the windows all down. It’s a conundrum, Wyman!

“Fust time on ree-cord I ever had it put over me
like that,” mourned Seymour. “Say, that bughouse fel-
ler must: have hammered me with the butt end of a
gun.”

The scout walked back and forth thoughtfully, while
Seymour climbed to his feet and sank into_the rocking
chair,

“T wasn't sveacia’ nothin’ like that,” went on Sey-
mour. “’Course I was watchin’ him careful, like what
Andy told me ter do, an’ when I reached fer that gun |
thought [was doin’ the proper thing. Ww yman might

‘-have picked up the popper p’int fust an’ let me have.

-a load, so I reaches fer the shootin’ iron myself... Con-

   

 
 

 

   

7. THE BUFFALO

sarn these here locoed ombrays!
they're goin’ ter do next.”

“Wyman thought he was going to be carried off to
the lockup,” said the scout. “It was poor business, Andy
and Bigelow coming in on him like they did. You've got
to handle fellows like Wyman with gloves.”

Buffalo Bill examined Seymour’s injury and found
that it was not at all serious.

“How d’ye reckon that feller got out o’ the house so
sudden-like, Buffalo Bill?” asked Seymour.

“I wish I knew,” was the reply.

“This here is a reg’lar brain-twister of a shack. It
wasn't built on the lot, respectable-like, same.as the rest
o’ the coops in town, an’ | reckon it’s got things about
it more’n any of us suspects.”

“You're a deputy town marshal ?”’

“That's it; but I-reckon Andy’ll have enough 0’ me
arter this flash in the pan. Where is he now?’

“He went off with a party to look for Wyman and
Moonlight.”

“The Injun got away too?’

“Yes. He was outside when Wyman made his escape.”

“That there Wyman’s a thief, I hear, besides bein’
locoed.”

“Don't believe all you hear, Seymour.. Maybe he’s a
thief, and maybe he’s a victim of injustice. Time. will
tell,’
Buffalo Bill had not taken much of a fancy to Brezee’s
father-in-law. Why was Bigelow so desperately anxious
to have Wyman, locked upr’ Was it because he was
airaid of Wyman? That hardly seemed to explain Bige-
low’s insistence, and his show of temper when Wyman
got away.

After a careful and critical round of the interior of
the cottage, the scout went out on the porch and sat
down in the rocking chair. Another crowd was gather-
ing in the street, attracted by the recent excitement and
the slashing departure of Brezee and the rest of the
pursuers.

“Word had gone forth that Wyman and Moonlight were
wanted, and a house-to-house search was being carried
on in the camp in the hope of locating them. The
mounted pursuers had taken to the hills. The crowd
in the street was morbidly curious, just as the crowd
had been éarlier in the day when the trim little house
had dawned upon them like a thing of magic.

While the scout sat in the rocking chair, looking at
the perplexing tangle from every conceivable side and
trying to get some clue to the true inwardness of it,
the deputy marshal came out with a handkerchief tied
around his head under his hat.

“T reckon Ill poke around through the camp an’ see if
1 kin find any trace o’ them two fellers, Buffalo Bill,”
he remarked. “It kain’t be they got very far away.”

“Good idea, Seymour,’ approved the scout.

Seymour departed, trailed by the questioning crowd.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour later Brezee came pound-
ing up to the porch on his horse.

“Have you seen anything of them, Andy?” asked the
scout.

“Nary, we didn’t, pard,’ was the troubled response,
“but we heard of them. Both Wyman and the Injun
were seen hustling “uh of town by the south trail.”

On foot? ? he

“Yes. A prospector was comin’ into camp and he’s
the one that gave me the news. Bigelow, Wild Bill,

Ye never know what

     

BILL STORLES.

ime.

and Nomad are still after ’em. 1 rode. back to find
out about Seymour. Was he hurt much?”

The scout relieved the marshal’s mind in the matter of
his deputy, and told him how Seymour had been knocked
over.

“But how the blazes did Wyman make his escape so
quick 2” muttered the marshal, voicing his bewilderment
in almost the same’ way his deputy had done.

“That isn't an important matter, Andy,” said the scout.
“What concerns us is the fact that Wyman and the red
really gave us the slip.” ,

“You don’t want to be taking too much to heart what
Bigelow says, Cody,” pursued Brezee earnestly. “He's
all worked up over this thing.”

“I’m not taking it to heart,” answered Buffalo Bill,
“but Ill promise you one thing, Brezee, and you can
take it as a pledge.”

“What's that?”

“I had only a passive interest in Wyman when |
came to Virginia City, but from now on I’m going to
make this affair a personal matter ‘and sift it to the
bottom.”

“TH help.’

“Of course. Maybe there'll be a surprise in this for
you, before we run out the trail—and not a pleasant sur-
prise, either.’

“Meanin’ which?”

“The meaning will develop later.” ~

The Chinaman at the Happy Days Hotel came out
in front of the hostelry and drummed his dinner gong.

“I’m going over and eat,’ the scout went on, getting
up. “After that, Andy, I'll lay hold of this matter in
earnest. You'd better have some one you can trust come
here and take care of this house until the Wyman busi-
ness is wound up.’’

“T’ll do that, sure,” and Brezee, sitting his horse medi-
tatively, watched the scout cross the street and follow
the Chinaman into the hotel. “What did Buffalo Bill
mean by a surprise, an unpleasant surprise?’ he mut-
tered, ‘“‘He’s another deep one!”

CHAPTER MITE
WILD BILL'S DISCOVERY.

Brezee was with Nomad and Wild Bill up to the time
they encountered the prospector on the south trail and
received his clue—time enough so that the Laramie man
and the trappér could receive a detailed account of what
had happened in the mysterious house.

After the prospector had delivered his news, Brezee
rode back into the town, and Bigelow, Wild Bill, and
Nomad continued the pursuit.

The trail roughened and struck into timbered uplifts.
Before the three pursuers had gone far, Bigelow pulled
rein.

“It’s mighty foolish, men,’ said Bigelow, “for us all
to hang together and keep to the trail. Wyman is foxy;
he could dodge out of the trail and hide in the brush
and let us pass. What Wyman don’t know about evad-
ing pursuers, that Indian does. I move we separate.”

“Second the motion,” spoke up, Wild Bill promptly.

“Kerried,’ chimed in the trapper © sententiously.

“How 'll we split up, an’ which way shall we travel ?”’

 

 
 

Na

 

Jags SGD RE RES ARE:

NGOS a byes re ETAL CLP? POR Ge Etter GRRE aE ARO Tp

PDR MCE AEM GOP ea aa ecstasy caus ae cE

ys

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES. _ 13

“You go on along the trail,” suggested Bigelow, “and
(il ride to the left and Wild Bill to the right.’

“Buenos! But where'll we meet up ag’in?”

“It isn’t necessary for us to meet up. Whether we
find our.men or whether we don’t we'll all get back to
the camp as soon as we have made up our minds we've
done enough.”

  
  
 

“Buenos agin! I’m off!”
‘Nomad touched Hide-rack with the spurs and bounded

~ along the trail. Wild Bill lost himself in the scrub, on
_ the right side of the road. Bigelow watched the place

where he had disappeared for a moment, and then
swerved his horse to the left and pushed into the tim-
ber as though he had some settled purpose in mind.

Barely was Bigelow out of sight when the Laramie
man reappeared cautiously and listened.

“By gorry, Bigelow,” said Wild Bill to himself, “I’m
a Dutchman if I don’t think you’re up to something.
Here’s where I find out.”

Hickok was a master hand at following a suspect and
hiding the work that engaged him. Keen of eye and
ear, he put his horse on Bigelow’s trail, running it out
by the sight of a hoof print in the soil or by a muf-
fled sound that was wafted back to him from in front.
Never once, in four or five miles of travel through
seams and gashes, did Bigelow lose the Laramie man.
That the suspect had a settled purpose in mind became
more and more evident. /

If Bigelow was looking for Wyman and. Moonlight,
it was only incidentally. His course carried him at right
angles with the trail, and it was plain that when he
had suggested separating the pursuers, he had done so
because his mind had evolved a scheme of his own.

In something more than half an hour Wild Bill looked
down from a wooded hill crest upon a bare slope that
extended to the bank of a creek. Here he had Bigelow
in plain view. Bigelow turned to the left and followed
the creek, presently losing himself in more brush and
timber,

Hickok looked along the creek and, at a distance of
perhaps a quarter of a mile, he saw a thin line of smoke
over the tree tops.

“Wow!” chuckled. Wild Bill. “‘He’s gone to meet
somebody. Start yourself, Beéswax,’ he added, totuch-
ing his mount with the rowels; “the trail is getting hot—
and exciting for the first time.”

At a quick gallop Wild Bill reached the creek; then,
after he had turned, he followed more cautiously. When,
as he judged, he had come near the place where he had
seen the smoke, he dropped out of the saddle, secured
Beeswax in a clump of bushes, and made his way onward
on foot.

Presently he reached a small clearing on the creek
bank, hard by a gravel “flat” gophered with holes by
placer miners. The placerings, from the looks, had not
panned out profitably and the flat had been abandoned.
That the ground had once been prospected accounted for
the presence of the cabin; but it did not account for
the fact that the cabin was still occupied.

-“There’s some one in that shanty that Bigelow knows,”
thought Wild Bill, “‘and when he cut loose from Nomad
and me Bigelow had it in mind to come directly here.”

Bigelow’s horse was tied to a sapling near the cabin
door, and a mumble of voices from inside the cabin
proved that the suspect had met the man or men he
had come to see.

On hands and knees the Laramie man crawled stealth-
ily to the rear of the log structure and quietly laid
himself against the wall. The chinking had fallen away
from between the logs in several places, and the lis-
tener was able to overhear all that was said inside the
hut.

His first discovery was that there were at least four
men with Bigelow, and he pulled his revolvers around
on his belt so that they would be handy in case his fur-
ther discoveries were cut short by being himself dis-
covered.

This was work that Wild Bill delighted in—rubbing
elbows with peril of the desperate sort and, in case of
a “‘show-down,” having the odds heavily against. him.
Bigelow was talking when Wild Bill was in position and
ready to listen.

“It’s a gone case with the lot of us, my lads, if Wyman
isn't taken or put out of the way; and the Indian—
rub -him out on sight. I can manage Brezee a good deal
better than I can Buffalo Bill and his outfit of pards.
They're another source of danger, but we’ll eliminate
that by eliminating Wyman and Moonlight. It’s got to
be done. Anything to suggest, Wyoming Pete?”

Some one cleared his throat raspingly—presumably
Wyoming Pete,

“It’s this here way, Harkness,’ began a husky voice,
Mie

“Cut out that Harkness part of it. I’m Bigelow while
I’m in Virginia City with Brezee.”

“Well, Bigelow, then. It’s this here way: Mebby we
finds Wyman an’ Moonlight, an’ mebby we. don’t.
They’ve took to the hills, says you, ter keep from gittin’
bottled up by that town marshal. This rough kentry is
purty extensive, an’ we mout hunt fer Wyman an’ the
red fer a month an’ not be able ter locate em.”

There was irritation in Bigelow’s voice as he an-
swered :

“Don’t be a fool, Pete, just because you've got the
chance. Didn’t I tell you that Wyman and the Indian
were on foot? Also that they had left town by the
south trail? Of course they didn’t stick to the trail, but
you can bank on it that they’re somewhere south of the
camp; and, since they haven’t any horses under them,
you and the rest of the boys can comb the hills and
find them. But there’s not much time to be lost. The
longer we talk the farther away the crazy fool and
his red helper are getting.”

“We'll save time now, more’n likely, by goin’ over the
ground purty keerful. When ye leave here, Harkness—
I mean Bigelow—whar ye goin’ ?”

“Back to Virginia City.”

“Then this here’s our last chance fer a confab afore
we make a raid on them-diggin’s this side o’ Alder.”

“Don't think about any more raids,” came angrily
from Bigelow, “until we get out of this tangle. We're
liable to have our hands too full to think of any raids
if we can’t get Wyman and Moonlight and sidetrack
Buffalo Bill and his pards. That confounded scout, with
his meddling ways, is the first real danger we’ve run up
against.’

The Laramie man could scarcely restrain a chuckle, at
that. As usual, the mere name of Buffalo Bill had got
this outfit of trouble makers to worrying.

Another raucous voice spoke up:

“Why ther nation kain’t that there scout stick ter the

 

GOS tae abo ca cag BDU Ae MRP eg a og Voi LE ASG RSC eae.

 
 

14 THE. BUPRALO
army an’ not come crow-hoppin’ around in this hyar biz-
ness 0’ our’n?”

“That’s a habit he has, Mayberry,” came the voice of
Wyoming Pete, “of jumpin’.in on games whar he ain’t
expected an’ ain’t wanted. If I ketch yore meanin’ right,
Harkness—er, Bigelow—we’re ter do our best ter run
down Wyman an’ the red; an’ if we ketch ’em we're ter
string ‘em up?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well, it’s all right ter string up er Injun er a chink,
kase they don’t amount ter nothin’ nohow an’ no ques-
tions ain’t gin’rally asked, but about Wyman the case is
diffrent. If he’s found hangin’ from er limb, Buffalo
Bill-is li’ble ter get cur’ous. T don’t want the scout.arter
me no more’n you want him arter you.’

“You'll have the scout on your trail like a wolf if
you let him get a+chance to talk with Wyman after
what’s happened,” growled Bigelow.
ready takes a lot more stock in that crazy fool than
I like to see. Why, he took us out in the back room
of Wyman’s house to try and talk Andy into keeping
hands off of Wyman!”

“Suppose the scout gits a clue about us an’ follers it
out?” quavered another speaker.

“He'll get no clue,’ answered Bigelow, ‘
follow orders.”

Wild Bill felt that he had tarried at the cabin wall
long enough. He had made a discovery, but the dis-
covery would only be valuable to the scout if he could
be apprised of it; by lingering too long at the cabin the

Laramie man would be courting disaster.

- Noiselessly as a serpent he crawled away to the edge
of the clearing, hurried to his horse, mounted and laid
a course back to Virginia City.

“It’s Brezee’s father-in-law that ought to be jugged,”
muttered Wild Bill, as he rode. “The marshal’s down
for a few eye-openers, this turn of the wheel!”

‘if you Bie

nate serene

CHAPLERAIX.
THE CAPTURE-OF MOONLIGHT.

Old Nomad, during that search for Wyman and the
redskin, had an even more exciting time of it than
Wild Bill, The trapper, it will be remembered, kept
to the trail. Foran hour he followed the rough course
-and only halted and thought about turning back when

reason told him that he had gone far beyond any
, place which Wyman and Moonlight could have reached
on foot.

“Ther outlook, so fur’s I’m consarned,” he muttered,
as he turned Hide-rack, “is mighty disappointin’. Them
two runaways didn’t keep ter the trail, not noways, an’
et’s dollars ter doughnuts thet Wild Bill er thet Bigelow
feller has corraled all ther excitement. What a run o’
_pizen luck! Thar’d be a heap more doin’, I reckon, ef
I was out in ther Injun kentry fightin’ hosstyles. No
like um these hyar paleface camps.’

A spring at the trail side invited the old trapper to
stop and quench his thirst. Slipping down from his
saddle, he knelt at the little rock basin and drank his
fill. Hide-rack was eager to get at the water, but he
was lathered with sweat, and Nomad was too careful
of the animal to pour cold water down him when he

was in such a condition.

a

Tiga tanincaee a cecal POR Se SERRE:

~ along the trail from the direction of town.

“Buffalo Bill al- :

Sera

BILL STORIES.

itching the restive horse to a small tree, the trap-
per sat down on a bowlder to smoke and wait for his
mount to cool off. For ten minutes Nomad puffed at
his pipe, thinking over the queer situation that had so
suddenly developed in Virginia City.

At the end of that time a Chinaman came swinging
This par-_
ticular Celestial was a “digger” and must have been in_
the camp after supplies, for there was a pole ‘across.
his shoulders with a loaded basket swinging at either
end.

Nomad watched the Chinaman approach, scuffling
along in his straw sandals and with his hands. out-

stretched to steady the ropes that held the swinging |

baskets.

The trapper had not much love to waste on Chinamen.
“Chinee cheap labor” had played hob with labor condi-
tions on the Pacific slope, and every slant-eyed man with
a queue was more or less under the ban. ©
, »teadily the, Chinaman shuffled his way to the spring,
took.the yoke from his neck, and deposited the baskets
on the ground, and then drew one of his flowing sleeves
over his damp forehead.

“Plenty hot day,” he remarked.

Nomad grunted. The Chinaman, used to that sort
of conversation on the part of the whites, smiled blandly
and knelt for a drink. He got up with a look of much
relief and fished around in his blouse fot a cigarette.
Quietly he sat down near Nomad and began to smoke.

The trapper, not relishing the free-and-easy manner
of the strange Chinaman, thought Hide-rack was cool
enough to drink without hurting himself and stepped
over to the tree to unhitch the horse. Then he had a

‘thought which led to further conversation with the

cigarette smoker.

“Say, chink, did you meet any one on ther trail?”

“Sure,’ was the prompt response.

“Did ye see er Injun an’ er white man travelin’ erlong
on foot?”

“My makee see so many ’Melican.men allee same so
many Injun.”

The Chinaman held up six fingers, then lowered his
hands and held up one finger.

“six whites an’<a.red, hey: °” muttered the trapper.

“Injun him plisner,’ went on the Chinaman, “ ’Meli-
can men allee same miner, allee same sendee Injun top
side. Gottee lope,” and the yellow man drew a finger
across his throat, indicated a limb of a tree, hauled
downward with both hands, and then made a gurgle
with his lips.

The pantomime was clear enough. The six white
miners had caught a redskin and were about to lynch
him, Old Nomad began to take more interest in the
talk. ,

“Mebbyso thet red was Moonlight,” said he.

“No savvy Moonlight.” .

““Whar’d ye see all this?”

“Back two, tlee mile on click.”

“Two or three mile back on ther trail on er creek,
hey: 7?

Nomad was already watering Hide-rack.

“Mebbyso Injun makee go top side by now,” said the
Chinaman, puffing passively at his cigarette.

“Waugh! !” grunted Nomad, “ef I kin get thar afore
ther red’s swung up thar won’t be no hangin’. a

He choked Hide-rack off, vaulted into the saddle, and

»

   

4

7

 

=
 

 

  

.sign of the Indian or his captors.

vbis ‘hat, brit,

_ frightened him so. that he lus rched sidewise.

NMR Ds Ne Gea DRIVE Wr ulbilie MRC Mia eae! FAS” Lig ale Ogi Sante MIN TE Ma tacene eae

THE BUFFALO

took the back track at speed. When he reached the
place where the trail crossed the creek there. was no
ia Nomad drew to a
halt and listened intently. .

From up the creek he seemed to hear a sound of
voices. Turning in that direction, he hurried Hide-rack
through the scant growth of timber, and in a few mo-
ments reached a place from which he could see half a

dozen rough-looking whités, who seemed to be miners, ~

grouped about an Indian. ‘The Indian’s hands were
bound at his back, and there was no doubt about his
being Moonlight, and no doubt but that the whites were
intending’ to give him short shrift to the next world.

Ofd Nomad’s fighting instinct was at once aroused.
His. instructions had been to find Wyman and Moon-
light, if possible, and to bring them into camp. Here
was the Indian, and the miners were taking steps which
would make it impossible for the trapper to follow
orders.

Perhaps the move Nomad took, in the circumstances,
was unwise. Instead of drawing his revolvers and spur-
ting in warlike manner toward the men and their pris-
oner, it would have been better to try persuasion. But
that was not the old trapper’s way. Whenever he saw
what he wanted, he went after it, hammer and tongs.

With a yell he charged toward the group of men,
waving his weapons. Had he known as much about
those men as Wild Bill, he might have understood the
ardor with which they creeted ‘him.

While two of them held the prisoner, the other four
drew revolvers and began firing. Nomad at once checked
his headlong plunge. A piece of lead whipped through
another passed through his sleeve, and
another “plunked” again his saddle horn and went:sing-
ing off into space.

Whirling Hide-rack, the old trapper retired precipi-
tately into the timber. To say that he was disappointed
in the hostile way he was received would not be stating
the matter correctly. His desire for a fight arose para-
mount to his wish for an easy rescue ‘of Moonlight.

As he retired he let go with both revolvers. @his
was without effect, howev er, as the two men who were
holding ‘the Indian had taken to shelter with theit pris-
oner and the other four were rushing after their horses.

Nomad, drawn up behind a tree, awaited develop-
ments. It was not more than a minute before the four
men showed themselves, spreading out in order to make
a “surround’ and picking their way carefully. So cau-
tious was the attack that the trapper had no target to

shoot at.
“Waugh!” he rumbled, ‘what a set o’ white-livered
whelps!' They aire afeared ter show theirselyes, am

thar’s on’y one o’ me ati’ four of them! ‘I reckon. Pll
hev ter git back ter ther trail an’ keep ’em from hem-
min’ me in.’

Regretfully Nomad continued to retrace his course,
and after he had splashed across the creek one of those
distressine accidents happened which, now and again,
will overtake even the best of horsemen.

The four pursuers were racing along in swift pursuit.
Hide-rack suddenly caught the excitement of the mo-
ment and stretched himself out on the road to camp. The
trail made a sharp turn in the timber, and at the mo-
ment Hide-rack plunged around the turn Nomad was
looking back... Something caught Hide-rack’s eye and
Nomad,

SR pa AM ie a | alae de

eee i

 

 

BILL STORIES. 15
with his attention in another quarter, was not looking
for such a move and it caught him at a disadv rantape.
Falling sideways, he left his saddle and struck heavily
in the trail. Hide-rack, riderless, and with flying stir-
rups, galloped on.

The old trapper was severely jarred, but not other-
wise seriously injured. He started to his knees, saying
things to himself. His first intention was to hurry on
after the horse, but the patter of hoofs around the turn
caused hini to change his mind and duck into the under-
growth at the trail side.

He gathered tip his revolvers hastily, but before he
could use them, even had he been so minded, his four
pugsuers went hurtling past.

“Flyar’s er go an’ no mistake I" growled the old man

savagely. “Me on foot an’ them four tinhorns hustlin’
arter Hide-rack, not knowin’ but thet I’m ‘still in ther
saddie! Waugh, what er pictur’ I must make! An’

thar ain’t a thing 1 kin do. By the time I ketch Hide-
rack an’ git back ter camp, them six lynchers will hev
kerried out their plans fer ole Moonlight.”

Sputtering wrathfully, Nomad started through the
timber that bordered the trail, watching sharply for the
four men who had taken after him, and hoping against
hope that he might overhaul Hide-rack.

Hide-rack was known to everybody but the trapper as
a particularly obstinate and cross-grained brute. Nomad
was blind to the animal’s shortcomings, however, and
considered him about the best example of horseflesh that
was ever foaled.

‘“Thet thar Hide-rack hoss’ll find out I ain't in ther
saddle,’ the trapper assured himself, “an’ then he'll
come back lookin’ fer me. He'll dodge them lynchers,
too, kase he’s got as much sense as a lot o human
bein’s, an’ a heap more’n some. The thing fer me ter
do is ter keep from bein’ ketched myself, an’—-—” ,

He broke off his reflections suddenlv.. “There
patter of hoofs in the trail, swiftly approaching. Think-
ing his enemies were returning, old Nomad sank to his
knees behind a clump of brush and waited Specie!
He was debating the question of using his revolve
The fight would ‘be four to one, but he had faced creater
odds a1 ind won out.

While he was still undecided, the approaching riders
hove into sight. An exclamation of surprise and pleas-
ure broke from the trapper’s lips.

They were not the four men who had chased him
across the creek. One of them was Buffalo Bill, mounted
on his war horse Bear Paw, and the other was the baron,
hanging to the back of his mule. Both were coming’ at
a good, lively pace, and Nomad, with a yell of delight,
started up and threw himself into the’ trail,

WadsS d

=

CPL ART TS 20,

AN INTERRUPTED LYNCHING,

The surprisé of that meeting in the trail might be said
to be mutual. Buffalo Bill had absolutely no know ledge
of what had taken place south of Virginia City. He
and the baron had left camp before Wild Bill had
reached it and aited-the knowledge he had picked up
at the cabin where Bigelow cotins eled with his conted:
erates,

tine Waele an fey Ws paar lee er ACRE RS A a
wee ii

Dee Lie Ae he paid ae aad
sf ta its aan ie 9 Ri ncn

eid) c vig tl heii Aa MN a ids ES mr et Se

 
re eras bene tees ohscm acerca

 

 

16 THE BUFFALO

Nick!” cried Buffalo Bill as he and
‘What are you doing here, and on

“Great Scott,
the baron drew rein.
foot, at that?”

“Waugh!” growled Nomad, “I’ve had er tough run 0’
luck, Buffer. Thet’s what I hev! Say, did ye see any-
thin’ 0’ Hide-rack on ther trail?” i
NG.

‘An’ didn’t ye see anythin’ o’ four mounted tinhorns,
ther same outfit thet was chasin’ me?”

“No.” The scout was deeply interested. “Who were
they, old pard? Why were they chasing your”

“T run onter “em, back an’ up the eae a ways.

had captered Moonlight——”

“Captured Moonlight! Did they also have Wal ?”

“Nary, they. didnt hey Wyman, Buffler: Him an’ the
Injun- must hev separated. Six o’ them whelps had
Moonlight, an’ they was goin’ ter string him up when
I breezed up ter “em. ‘Fwo hung ter the red an’ t’other.
four made a dead set at me. I had ter make a change
0’ base an’ git some’rs whar ther ground was more
favor ble. Hide-rack an’ me crossed ther creek, an’
we was jest roundin’ a bend when Hide-rack sashayed
ter the right suddent-like an’ I went by the board. The
four fellers behind rushed past. Seems quare ye didn’t
meet up with ’em er else find Hide-rack.”

“We didn’t see anything of them, Nick. What s be-
come of Bigelow and Wild Bill?”

“Bigelow suggested thet we split up, purty soon arter
leavin’ camp, an’ keep up the hunt each man fer himself.
I was told ter foller ther trail. I was jest moseyin’ back
to oo Virginia City when I as inter this hyar
mess.’

‘They

ae the fellows who chased you took to the —

99

woods,” suggested the scout, “thinking they would have
more chance of overhauling you there than they would
» on the trail.”
“Mebbyso, Buffler,’

’ assented Nomad. “‘The thing ter

do, ef thets ther case,.is ter you an’ ther baron ter.

git ter Moonlight an’ turn him loose afore them four
fellers git back ter the creek an’ go on with the
ein ce

“Right you are, Nae

You say the rascals had the
Indian up the creek?”

“Not more’n a hundred oe up the creek, arter ye
git ter the ford an’ cross.’

@ What will you do while we’re looking after Moon-
light?”

“YVIl go s’archin’ fer Hide-rack. The fact thet ye didn’t
see ther hoss in. ther trail proves thet he’s also took
ter ther- timber, lookin’ fer me. I'll find him, Buffler,
an’ ef I kin find him quick enough I’ll ride on ter ther
creek an’ do what I kin ter help ye. But I reckon Mo
an’ the baron won’t need much help. with on’y ie O°
ther gang ter buck ag’inst.”

“Buenos! exclaimed the scout. “Come on, baron.”

mayest wieatege erence hnte gti 6. 1am egg Ages cnt cern itn mem ohh tr pinactse sie

~ somet’ing.

: fect ip oh ah setter th Ain Bi

Tw coh AMBP RS Saco

BILL STORIES.

“Dot's me,” cried the baron, and Bear Paw and Toofer,
the mule, raced on along the trail.

‘Here’s a stroke of luck, pard,”’ said the pont: as’
they‘ rode.

“It’s more as dot,” exulted the teroat “it’s some
shtrokes #oof oxcidement as vell, Puffalo Pill. I peen

--vanting somet’ing like dot efer since ve ae disspart oof

der gountry. Hoop-a-la!”

“T wonder where Wild Bill is keeping Ginisela It
seems strange that we haven't heard from him.”

“He iss on der drack oof dot Pigelow feller, I bed
you, und he vill-shtick to der drail ondil he finds “oudt

This was the scout’s idea of the Laramie man’s fail-
ure to present himself with a report. Whenever Hickok
took up a piece of work he could be counted upon to
€arry it out, no matter what the cost of peril or incon-
venience to-himself.

In drawing near the creek, Buffalo Bill slackened the
pace and the crossing was made as quietly as possible.
He and the baron had hardly turned into the wood on
the opposite bank, however, when they heard a splash-
ing of water. The scout reconnoitred. and found four
horsemen crossing the stream at a little distance from the
ford. They were all rough-looking men, dressed as
miners, and each was well mounted and well armed. Ap-
parently they had not heard or seen the scout and the
baron and had not the least notion that they were any-
where in the vicinity.

Buffalo Bill returned to the place where he had left
his companion and told him what he had discovered.

- “T bed you somet’ing,’ muftered the Dutchman, “dot
dose vas der fellers vat shased olt Nomat.”

“@f course,” returned the scout.

“Und dey vas gedding pack by Moonlight pefore ve
vanted dem to arrife.”

“That's right, too,
stead of two, baron.
event.”

“I bed you ve vas going to haf a fighdt!” chuckled
the baron. “I nefer felt more like a mixoop’as vat I
do now. Me und Doo-for-a-kevarter, Puffalo Pill, can
be dependet on at any stage oof der game.”

‘,
We have now six againsteus in-

Moonlight must be saved, in any

The baron had humorously christened his mule “Two-
for-a-quarter.’’* As this name was rather cumbersome
for general purposes, it was usually shortened into “Too-
fer

“Follow me, baron,” said the scout,

“Yah, you bed you.”

The scout led the way through the timber, listening
carefully for sounds ahead. The pace was necessarily
slow, and in due course the pards arrived at the edge
of a cleared space in the timber, with the creek flowing
in the background.

The four white men had arrived and dismounted.

“and come quietly.”

 

pokes ten eee Beate atone Ris shi ts ee ioral Be

 

 

 

eens oe tat ed DT ipo

 

 

 
 

- other way.

_ der use oof vaiting some more:

“men have to say.’

 

Ba ree a er Tea ARM See PBC FONG KRUSH ANAL eee SEER

THE BUFFALO

Their horses had been left at a distance, and they were
clustered about the form of their prisoner.

- Moonlight, his hands tied at his back, was ranged
alongside an oak tree with a stout branch jutting out
from the trunk at a convenient height overhead.

The Indian was calm and stood erect and fearless.

“Whar’s Wyman, you ornery red cur?” demanded one
of the white men, facing the Indian savagely.

“You no ketch um,’ answered Moonlight;
um.” : :

“We know that, consarn ye; we know ye lured us
along on the wrong track while Wyman went off some
But I reckon ye know whar thet crazy ga-
Fellus an. we won't hang ye. If ye
don’t tell us, then by thunder yore goose is cooked.”

Old Moonlight glared at his captors defiantly, but
would not open his Lo

“What's ther use o’ foolin’ with him any longer, Pete ?”
broke in one of the others. “Ther red won’t tell us er
thing, Anyways, ye ain’t got no right ter promise ter
set him loose.~ Ye know blame’ well that Harkness said
ter string him up if he was ketched.
hev Buffler. Bill find ther Injun-an’ tork with him.”

“I know my bizness, Mayberry,’ flared Wyoming
Pete, “‘an’ I’m goin’ ter kerry out sorders.. lf we could
git this red ter tell us about Wyman, though, it ’u’d save
us a lot o’ skirmishin’ around through ther timber.”
Again the man turned to the captive.  “D’ye want ter
be hung ?’”. he demanded furiously.

Old Moonlight was Indian clear through. He took a
delight in showing his nerve at that critical time. The
better to prove his contempt and: defiance, he laughed
in Wyoming Pete’s face.

Pete swore savagely and struck the helpless prisoner
with his clinched fist.

“Ach,” gurgled. the baron,
Dot’s a prave feller, dot Moonlight, Puffalo Pill.

2?

““me save

loot has gone.

“vat a sgoundrel it iss!
Vat’s
“Hist! warned the scout. “Let’s hear Ghat else the
It’s all mighty interesting.”
_ So it was interesting. Out of their own mouths the
ruffans were condemning Jeremiah Bigelow, otherwise
Harkness.

Moonlight had staggered a little under the cowardly
blow he had received, but he straightened erect almost
instantly and again gave his contemptuous laugh.

“White men heap squaws,’ he grunted; “no ketch um
Wyman. Moonlight save um. Wyman find Pa-e-has-ka,
tell um “bout Bigelow. Pa-e-has-ka take um war trail

2?

after Bigelow. Ugh!
“Whar did you an’ Wyman go arter ye left Virginny

City?” went on Wyoming Pete, smothering his rage with

- an effort. ¢ a

“Walk um aL? ts \

‘When we seen ye, an’ started ter foller, ye hid Wy-

‘—s,

 

see rl i anes

slacken up on-the riata.

It won’t do ter >

 

4 { j »

BILL: STORIES. _ 17

man some’rs in the bresh an’ made noise enough fer two
when ye took ter yer heels.”

“Ai!” laughed Moonlight.

“He’s makin’ fun o’ us, Pete,” cried one of the others
in the crowd. ‘I don’t like ter hev er Injun make: fun
o’ me, consarn his red hide! Let's give him er dance in
tHe ars ‘

“Fetch yer rope, Mayberry,’ ordered Wyoming Pete,
“an’ git the noose around his neck an’ over ther limb.
We'll let ther whelp know we mean bizness.”

Mayberry picked up the ropes, dropped the noose over

92.

‘the red man’s head, and flung the loose end over the

limb.

The bearing of old Moonlight,
was admirable.

“Draw ther rope so’st ther noose dohieu: about his
measly neck,’ ordered Wyoming Pete.

The rope was pulled until Moonlight had to struggle
for his breath. Pete signaled for his companions to
As. the Indian stood panting
heavily, Pete again addressed him.

“IT reckon ye kin see we mean bizness, Injun. If ye
want ter save yore life ye’ll tell us whar we kin find
Wyman.”

“Squaws!” taunted fhe Indian.

“Stop yer foolin’ away any more time!” yelped May-
berry. “I’m gittin’ tired o’ it. The Injun won't say a

in the circumstances,

word about Wyman.”

The scout saw that it was high time he and the baron
interfered.

“Now, baron!” he muttered, and they rode out of their
covert and straight toward the six men and the hop
prisoner.

CHARIER XT,
THE RESCUE OF OLD MOONLIGHT.

The sudden advent of the scout and the baron took
the would-be lynchers aback. They faced the newcomers
without a motion to draw their weapons. Surprise, for
the moment, held them inactive.

Moonlight, turning his head in the direction of the
scout and the baron, muttered something under his breath.
A smoldering light grew in his eyes with the realization
that rescue was at hand.

Close to the oak tree Buffalo Bill pulled Bear Paw
to a halt. He made no move to.draw his revolvers; if
the men were to fight, the weapons would get into his

‘hands quickly enough.

The baron, with a fine eye on eventualities, spurred
Toofer close in toward the edge of the crowd of ruf-
fians. In case of a one-sided combat, the Dutchman
had already made up his mind as to the way he would -
proceed. é

a®

ite HE Wiike iset'o arcs Sim ase, CE

 
THE BUFFALO

“Take your hands off your guns!” cried Buffalo Bill
sternly, noticing a slow movement of two or three hands
toward revolver grips. “If thete’s to be fireworks, we're
here to accommodate you. But I don’t expect any
trouble.”

“Ve don’d dodge any drouple anyvays,” put in the
baron, ‘even oof ve don’d oxbect it.”

Wyoming Pete and his companions knew they were
face to face with the redoubtable king of scouts.  Al-
though desperate men, the situation was one that gave
them pause.

“If ye got bizness anywhar else, Buffalo Bill,” said
Wyoming Pete significantly, “don’t let us detain*ye a
minit.”

“My business, for the present, is right here.
are you planning to do with this Indian?”

“Tf ye got eyes, [ reckon ye kin see that without bein’
told.” |

“What has he done that you wish to hang him?’

e

What

“He's a thief, an’ gin’rally no account. Thet’s warrant
enough fer lynchin’ any red.”

“It’s no warrant at all,” snapped the scout, “and that’s
not the real reason why you're going to extremes with
old Moonlight.” |

“What our bizness is ain't none o’ yore bizness,”’
scowled Wyoming Pete.

The scout stared at the man for an instant, and then
a slow smile came to his face.

“You'll find out differently, before we're done with
you, my man,” he returned. “You and your outfit are
mixed up with Harkness, otherwise Bigelow ;.and you're
trying to put Moonlight out of the way on orders from
Bigelow, and to keep the Indian from talking with me.
Who held up that stage from Alder?”

There fell a sudden silence, during which the sup-
posed miners exchanged significant glances.

“This hasn't a thing ter do with any stage robbery,”
went on Wyoming Pete. “Ye’re Buffalo Bill, an’ ye’re
cracked up as somethin’ of a gun fanner, but thet ain't
botherin’ us none. Thar’s half a dozen o’ us hyar, an’
“we got the bulge on ye. Hike out; if ye don’t thar'll be
plenty o’ trouble—more trouble than ye kin shake a
Stick at.”

Slowly the scout took a knife from his belt and began
forcing Bear Paw toward Moonlight.

“Keep. back, I tell ye!” whooped Wyoming Pete. “Two
o ye take keer 0’ the Dutchman,” he added to his com-
panions, “an’ the resto’ ye come hyar an’ give me yer
help in downin’ Buffalo Bill.”

Then, in almost less time than it takes to tell of it, the
clash was begun. ; |

Two men leaped toward the baron. Had they known

Toofer better those two men would have been a little

more circumspect in their movements.

we

 

Ripe me peer nR Aedes heal
sis ptt on tant it See

His Ki 4 Sa RIE gabon A EPR CHAN Ok ete rola Acaaae SANs audinnar MUA Gtn isle aAeap a
praia eon Rieaitens Beet eter gh tenn tt Ait i a pret tee Pilea epee

 

 

 

BILL STORIES.

The baron leaned back arid touched the mule in/a
certain place. Instantly the animal hoisted up behind
and his rear hoofs shot out like the piston rods 6f a
locomotive, There followed a thump, thump, and the
two men turned back somersaults and lay hors du combat
on the ground.

“Von't some more blease come on und take care oof
me?’ cried the baron. “Come on, eferypody, schust so
many as you like! Hoop-a-la!”

The havoc caused by the mule“had claimed the atten-
tion of the other men. A third man started to try his
hand on the baton and the mule. :

Again Toofer’s head went down, in obedience to a
dig from the baron’s heels, and once more the animal's
hind feet shot outward and upward.

Meanwhile, Buffalo Bill had urged Bear Paw along-
side the Indian. The scout leaned forward with the
knife in his hand.

While the baron yelled, and Toofer kicked out val-
iantly, Buffalo Bill gave swift attention to old Moon-
light. ’

- The mule was spreading consternation among the white

renegades, and the disorder was distinctly favorable to
the execution of the scout’s plan. Revolvers had not
yet begun to crack, and the scout had slashed the rope
above the red man’s head. There was no time to cut
the rope from the prisoner’s hands, but his feet were
free and he was/not entirely helpless.

“Up behind me, Moonlight!” called the scout.

The Indian bounded lightly to Bear Paw’s back.

“Back to the trail, baron!” Buffalo Bill shouted, at the
same time whirling Bear Paw to the right about.

“Preak avay, olt pard!’’ roared the baron. “I vill be
righdt pehindt you!”

Bear Paw and Toofer began their race for the timber
that lay between the clearing and the trail; and, in that
moment, the weapons of the renegades who were still
able to fight awoke startled echoes. Lead whistled and
sang all around the pards and the rescued Indian, but
the marksmen must have been excited, for-not oné of
the bullets did any damage.

The pards gained the wood and pushed deep into the
friendly trees.

“Vill dose dinhorns follow us, Puffalo Pill?” asked
the baron anxiously.

His anxiety arose from the fear that the men would
not follow. The baron had not yet had enough. ‘The
chip which he had been carrying on his shoulder up and
down the main street of the mining camp had just been
knocked off for the first time.

cheated out of his rights. ue
The Dutchman, however, was doomed to disappoint-

men. The renegades, baffled in their attempted: lynch-

ing, knew better than to continue their hostile tactics.

4

 

lf there was no more
trouble, the baron would feel as though he had been

 

 

  

     

 
   
   
   
      
   

   

   

  

CAA SS

ae ie vee, WEY ches So EN SLE LeRPU RSE NESE eas

The scout and the baron reached the trail, forded
the creek, and rode for a mile along the back trail before
they were positive that no pursuit was to be made;

then, as soon as they were sure of that, they drew to

a halt.

“Vat a-hardt luck it iss!” mourned the baron. “Der
fairst time I ged some oxcidement, den I don’d ged
so mooch as vat I vant. Toofer dit all der vork, Puffalo
‘Pill! Yah, so! Der leedle mu-el has shtarred himséluf
like alvays. I peen so broud oof Toofer as I can’t tell.”

“Tooter certainly helped us out,’ laughed the scout.
“Ii he hadn’t raised that disturbance, we’d have had a
hard fight on our hands. Good business, baron! We
got out of that a whole lot better than I expected.”

He slipped from the saddle.

“Get down, Moonlight,’ he added,
ropes off your hands.”

Silently the Indian dismounted and backed up to the
scout. One pass of the knife was sufficient, and the
redskin pulled his hands apart.

“Pa-e-has-ka save um Moonlight,” said the Indian.

He felt grateful, of course, but it was ‘not the Indian
way to show it. ,

“and Vil take-the

“Piute?’’ queried the scout, hastily surveying the red
man from head to foot.

ou ine; Pinte:

“How did they happen to capture you?”

“Me save um Wyman. Hat wearers (white men)
chase Wyman and Moonlight; Wyman hide, Moonlight
keep on. Hat wearers follow. Moonlight. Ugh!”

“Fine work!” approved the scout. “Whereis Wy-
man now?”

“No sabe.”

“I’m a friend of Wyman’s,”
ought to know that, Moonlight.”

Said: the seout, .° You

“Ai,” returned the red man gravely. “Me sabe Pa-e-
has-ka friend.. Him friend-of Wyman, friend of Injun.
Injun remember.”

“Why did Wyman leave the house in the camp?”

“ilun ‘heap’ ‘trait of. Brezee,””

“How did he get away?”

A crafty-look crossed Moonlight’s face.

“Heap easy, Pa-e-has-ka,’’ he answered. “Him get
out by little door in tepee. You no see um little door.
Wyman get out, run through chaparral. Moonlight run,
too. We get ftom camp by sout rail. 2

“Then you ran into those hat wearers?”

oN

“Do you know who they are?’

“All same tinhorn! 'Pa-e-has-ka; all ‘same friends of
Harkness. Me no like um; Wyman no liké um. Ugh!”

“TL see,” ruminated the scout.

Much of the information he was now securing from
Moonlight he had already gathered from the talk he

@

9

had overheard on the bank of the ereek.

.

is cee i irre tS tthe a ae a ple ie a eb al as

reals enkie A Saas one Ara HOG sate Me eaten tae RCO cote irom eerie

THE BULEALO

 

 

 

BILL, GPORIES. We 19

“You say you don’t know where Wyman is, Moon-
light?”

“No saber”

“Whete did you leave him?”

“Alone creek, 7

“If we went to the place don’t you think we could
find him?”

Moonlight shook his head.

“Him find us,’ Pa-e-has-ka,”’
Him find. us.
brightened. ;

The scout pulled the bridle reins over Bear Paw’s head,

leaving them dangling from the bits.
_ “Watch the back track, baron,” said the scout, “and
see that those white scoundrels don’t surprise us. I
want to have a talk with Moonlight, and now’s the time
for it. We can’t go back to the mining camp before we
find Wyman.”

“T vill keep some veather eyes oudt, you bed you,” re-
turned the baron, moving off down the trail. “Go on
mit your talk, Puffalo Pill, und leaf der vatching mit
wigs:

The scout seated himself at the trail side and motioned
for Moonlight to drop down near him.

said he. “Leave um ‘lone.
Him all same fox,” ‘and the Indian’s eyes

ee

CHAPTER XIE nee
A REVELATION.

Buffalo Bill, wishing full and complete information
about Wyman;.cHose to use a smattering of Piute aided
by the “hand talk.” That gave Moonlight a_ better
chance tosexpress himself, inasmuch as he was not ham-
pered by his imperfect knowledge of the white man’s
tongue.

iy is Wyman, Moonlight ?” asked the scout.

“Wyman is Moonlight’s friend,” was the answer. “He
has been Moonlight’s friend for years. For many moons
Wyman lived in Moonlight’s lodge, far away on the bor-
ders of the Jornada del Muerto. Moonlight, Pa-e-has-ka,
has tried to help Wyman find his enemies. The war
trail has been long, but we have not turned away,
from: it.’

“Do you know much of Wyman’s past life?”

“Wuh?’

‘Was he in the battle of the Little Big Horn?”

“Nah! The Great Spirit has broken his thoughts, and
many things Wyman cannot understand. He was not in
the great fight on the Little Big Horn.”

“Did he have a brother hurt in the white man’s town
of St Lows r*.

“Nah. It was Wyman who was hurt. His thoughts
are strange, and he thinks it was his brother. When
the old thoughts die, Pa-e-has-ka, strange thoughts come
in place of them.”

    

  

SR a a a a a SB cal eh it

    

 
 
   

  
 

         
Ra gr NT RR aE LO SE RE

ee Anis aeons

 

SSP CMT LE TT ee eR RC TL YY Mesa
ses ne
aye o it aad

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

The scout followed the red man’s talk with difficulty.
He expressed himself like a man who had beén much in
the white man’s world, and had done much thinking for
himself,

“How have you learned all this, Moonlight?” inquired
the scout. “You were not in St. Louis with, Wyman?”

“Nah. A man brought him to the village, a friend
who knew him. Wyman was sick, we thought he would
die, but the white man stayed with him and gave him
white man’s medicine. The medicine was good, and

Wyman lived. It was the white friend that died.” One

day he went out into the Jornada and never came back :

to the Piute village.”

“This white friend of Wyman’s told you Wyman’s
story?”

“Wuh !”

“Then it was Wyman himself, and not his brother,
who was sandbagged and robbed in the big town of the
white men?”

Moonlight nodded.

““And Wyman has been trailing the man who robbed
him all through the Indian country ?”

Another nod from Moonlight.

“It has been a long trail, Pa-e-has-ka,” said he. “I
left my red brothers and went with Wyman. I have
looked after him, and helped him. ‘The Great Spirit
had Broken his thoughts and placed him in the lodges
and under the care of the Piutes. Moonlight could not
leave him when he took the trail to find his enemy.”

“Where did the trail take you?”

Moonlight spread out his hands.

_ “Yo the country of the Apaches,’ he answered, “then
back through the land of the Utes, among the Com-
manches and Pawnees, up among the cold lands off the
Niobrara, and then to the Pah-sap-pah and the Sioux;
after that, to the country of the Crows, and now here.”

“And you were following Bigelow all the time?”

“Wuh! All the time we followed the man with the
black heart. Sometimes we went to a great town and
Wyman sent a paper talk away and we waited; then he
got gold, and we went on again.”

Something of the task that had confronted the crazy
man and his loyal Indian companion dawned on the mind
of the scout. Wyman, being crazed, was under the es-
pecial protection of the Piutes. For one who is daft all
Indians have an awe and veneration. This part of the
story it was easy for the scout to comprehend; but he
could not comprehend so clearly how Wyman had been
able to keep on the trail of Bigelow, or how he had been
able to secure gold to prosecute his search by means of
a paper talk.

“What was Bigelow doing all the time, Moonlight?”

“He is a thief. His trail was a trail of robbery. No
coyote ever stole like Bigelow.”

“What did he do in Cheyenne?”

Ay Sahih Big ns epideeyacunud
i is sl Ne NA eared

Modnlight’s eyes glittered.

“He took the name of Wyrhan, and he robbed. He
could take the name, Pa-e-has-ka, but he could not ‘take
the looks. In Cheyenne the hat wearers know which is
Wyman and which is Bigelow. Ai!”

“From what place was it that Wyman sent me that
paper talk?”

“From the hat-wearers’ camp called’—Moonlight
puckered his brows thoughtfully — “called Last
Chance. Wyman wanted Pa-e-has-ka to help. From
Cheyenne he went searching the country for Pa-e-has-ka.
Moonlight counseled it. Moonlight knew of the little
Piute, Cayuse. Pa-e-has-ka has always been a blood
brother of the Piutes.”

So the scout gathered that, after trying to settle his
account with Bigelow in Cheyenne, Wyman had gone
to Last Chance, in which camp the scout had lingered
for a time, to find a white man who would befriend him.

What Moonlight had said gave the scout much food
for reflection.

John Wyman had been a collector for a firm of cotton
brokers in St. Louis; he had been sandbagged and
robbed of his employers’ money by Bigelow; from that
blow Wyman had never recovered; but his clouded wits
had urged him on and on ina blind desire to settle ac-
counts with the man who had so wronged him,

It was the blow on the head that had caused the
turning of Wyman’s brain... From that moment the past
had dropped out of his recollection, like a garment which
had been put off and cast aside... In his hazy mind dwelt
a remembrance of the battle of the Little Big Horn, and
his distorted fancy had conceived himself as a victim of
Rain-in-the-face.

There can be no accounting for the vagaries of a
mind diseased, and yet through all Wyman’s vagaries
had run a train of clear and lucid thought regarding the

-man who had ruined his life and brought misery and

disgrace upon him. Every action of Wyman’s career,
subsequent to his regaining physical health among the
Piutes at the edge of the Desert of Death, had been
nicely calculated to forward his plan of revenge.

All this the scout inferred from the talk of Moonlight.
Several points were dark, and might always remain so.
For instance, where had Wyman secured the gold that
had furnished him and Moonlight with the means to
prosecute their search? And who was the white man
who had taken Wyman to the village of the Piutes at the

_ borders of the Jornada del Muerto?

“Moonlight,” went on the scout, “where did the gold
come from that Wyman got in the big white villages
by means of a paper talk?”

“From the hat wearer who had brought Wyman to
the Piutes,’’ was the answer.

“But you said the hat wearer was dead?”

“Wuh! He went into the desert and never came back.

 

 

a 2
   
 

THE BUPRALO

Twenty sleeps afterward, he was found by a party of
young Piutes.”

“Then, if he was dead, how could he have furnished
the money for Wyman?” :

Moonlight pondered, evidently seeking words to ex-
press himself rather than because his thoughts were hazy
on the matter.

“The hat wearer left the gold in some of the white
man’s big towns. He told the Piutes Wyman’s name,
and he told Wyman he could get» gold when he wanted
it by writing a paper talk. So much I know, Pa-e-has-ka,
but any more I do not know. It is strange to the In-
dian’s mind.”

The white man, the scout reflected, must have left a
sum of money on deposit, subject to withdrawal by
Wyman.

“Did the Piutes never learn who this white stranger
was?” pursued the scout,

“He had a good heart, Pa-e-has-ka, but he said noth-
ing of himself. The Piutes did not know.”

“And didn’t Wyman know his name until his white
companion had told him what it was?”

‘NG. :

It was a strange case, taken all in all. Some new
mystery seemed to confront the scout no matter which
way he turned. [Fresh light was shed on the matter, only
to develop some new mystery that defied solution,

“Mebbyso, Pa-e-has-ka,” said Moonlight, returning
to his broken English, “me see um Little Cayuse, Pa-e-
has-ka’s Piute pard. Huh?”

“Yes. You'll see him when we get back to the mining
camp.”

“Buenos!” muttered Moonlight, with deep satisfaction.

“Before we go back to the camp, however,” continued
the scout, “we must find Wyman. It will not do to
leave him alone in the hills, confronted by the possibility
of falling into the hands of Bigelow’s men.”

“Him come to us, Pa-e-has-ka,” averred the red man,
with conviction.

“What makes you think that?” :

“Wyman all same fox,’ and Moonlight’s eyes once
more glistened. “You see um, bumby. Ai, you see
um. Mebbyso we ketch um Bigelow, huh?’

“We are working up a pretty good case against Bige-
low, Moonlight,’ returned the scout. ‘I am in hopes
we can make it so strong that it will be convincing to
his son-in-law, the marshal of Virginia City. It will be
a hard blow to poor Andy, but it’s something that can’t
be helped.” r

“You no let um send Wyman to hat wearers’ jail?”
asked Moonlight anxiously.

“He'll not go there, now, or

A patter of hoofs from up the trail caused the scout
to cut short his words and regain his feet with a bound.
He was thinking of the renegades, and the thought

99

 

BILL “STORIES: : 21

caused him to half draw his guns. The next moment
his hands fell away from the revolvers.

Two horsemen were riding swiftly southward along the
trail. One of them was Wild Bill, and the other was
Andy Brezee!

“Andy will be in at the finish with the rest of us,’
muttered the scout grimly.

CHAPTER X41f,
THE ROCKS OF BA-CHER-HISH-A,

“Pard Cody!” cried Wild Bill. ‘Well, this is a sur-
prise party, and no mistake. We were hoping to find
you, but we hadn’t a notion we’d have such an easy time
Of t./ a

“Bully!” exclaimed Brezee, as he pulled his horse to
a stop. “You've nabbed one of ’em, eh, pard? Wyman
can't be very far oft, | take 2. ‘Reckon: 1d better put
the cuffs on old Moonshine.”

The marshal slid to the ground and stepped toward
the Indian, groping in a pocket after the steel gyves.

“Hands off, Andy!” said the. scout. “I just. took
some ropes off Moonlight’s hands, and I'm not going
to stand here and see you replace ‘em with come-alongs.”

The marshal drew back and gazed at the scout with
puzzled eyes.

“Snakes!” he muttered. “Why, pard, the Injun had
as much to do with that stage hold-up as Wyman did.”

“No doubt about that, Andy. By the same token, he
had no more to do with it than Wyman did—and that
was nothing at all. Moonlight is a mighty good In-
dian: I’m his friend and he’s under my protection.”

“Hang it all, pard,” grumbled Brezee, “you don’t want
me to turn that father-in-law of mine down, do you?
His word makes good with me, and I’ve. got to pay some
attention to what he says.” |

“TIl be responsible for Moonlight until you’re willing
to let him keep his freedom, Andy,” said the scout. “By
the way, where is you father-in-law now?”

“He’s still out looking for Wyman and the red.’

Wild Bill laughed. Both Brezee and the scout turned
to him in surprise.

“What's funny about that?” queried Brezee crisply.

“Nothing,’’ replied Hickok, straightening his face,
“only I was just thinking what a fine family you married
into, Andy.”

The red ran through the marshal’s face and a glint
came into his eyes.

“You're a pard of mine, Hickok,” said he, “but no
man, pard or otherwise, can say a word against Mollie
or her old man. That shot goes as it lays.”

“Mollie’s your wife, Brezee,” returned Wild Bill, “and
I take off my hat to her; but the old man is a pill, and
your confidence in him~is misplaced. I've had that

   

   

   
 

eo auaiaaiol

 

22 THE BUFFALO
thing on my mind ever since I met you in camp and we
started out here looking for Pard Cody. ‘Now that we’ve
found Cody I can tell you something I discovered when
I shacked into the hills the first time.”

“What did you discover?”

Wild Bill told Brezee how the scout had told him
to camp on Bigelow’s trail, and how he had followed
Bigelow to the cabin by the old diggings and what he
had heard there.

“I hit the high places on my way back to Virginia
City,” Hickok finished, “in order to put Pard Cody wise
to the situation, but he and the baron had left before I
got there.” :

“If any one says that Jeremiah Bigelow is anythin’
but'a straight piece of rawhide,’ growled Brezee, “‘he’s
talkin’ with a double tongue. That’s flat enough, ain’t
ite”

Lightning darted from Wild Bill’s eyes and he swept
-a hand back and forth from his hip. Simultaneously,
Brezee conjured a six-shooter into his own hands.

Flint had.met flint and sparks were likely to fly. The
scout stepped between the two men.
“Put up your guns,’ he ordered curtly. “If you fel-

lows try to staat each other the bullets will have to go
through me.’

The Laramie man laughed.

“I’m not partial, Pard Cody,” said he, “te having any

one say that my tongue twists around the truth. Brezee _
* old Moonlight had been rescued. Also, he told of the

should be careful.”

The guns were back in their holsters, but ~ bad blood
was still in evidence.

“When a man hits at my relations,” declared the mar-
shal, “he’s handing me one between the eyes.”

“Then, Andy,” remarked the scout, dropping a hand on
the marshal’s shoulder, “here’s another one between the
eyes: I know, from my own experiences this afternoon,
that Pard Hickok has told you the truth.”

Brezee flung off the scout’s hand angrily.

“And you~you claim to be a friend of mine,
ground out.

““T’m as good a friend as you ever had, Andy. I’ve
had an inkling of the truth ever since we went in through
the back door of Wyman’s cottage this morning. The
bolt on the kitchen door was broken, you remember.
Well, it was Bigelow who broke it and

“Why, in the fiend’s name,” cut in the marshal hotly,
“should he want to break into Wyman’s house?”

3? he

 

“To leave that watch and wallet in the carpetbag under
the cot!”

The words came with clear deliberation, and the scout
met Brezee’s angry look with calm, friendly eyes.

“You're wrong, Cody!” said the marshal huskily.
“Bigelow never turned such a trick! It ain’t in him to
do a thing of that kind. Man, man, you don’t know him
as well as I do.”

Bpiaromnainraeislaci a lepaane GE UNS AGES REGED RTI

a Seay SANG Os NUE eee a ee

Pe, Regt Siete”

BILL STORIES:

279

“Hew long have you (nowen Bigelow, Andy :

“Well—er—about a month v

Wild Bill gave another laugh.

“Close your trap, Hickok,” cried Brezee, “till we get
to the bottom of this. You fellows are wide of your
trail and not me, and you'll learn that before you’re many
hours older. Mollie came to Virginia City to run 4
school, but I married her before,she ever got to work.
She’s a lady, honest and sqfiare, and for more than a
year, now, she’s made me a good wife. I tell you her
father couldn’t be anythin’ else than the clear quill.”

“Where has her father been spending his time?”
Buffalo. Bill.

‘“He’s always been a rover, but he came to Virginia
City to settle down.” :

“We'll tall this over,” said the scout, “but we’ll do
it in the saddle. Pard Hickok, I want you to lead us
to that cabin by the played-out placerings, and we'll start
at once.”

 

asked

The scout swung to his saddle and motioned Moonlight
to get up behind; then, lifting his voice, the scout called
to the baron. ‘The Dutchman came cantering along the
trail on his mule and expressed much delight on seeing
Wild Bill and Brezee. Hickok, after getting his bear-
ings for a moment, laid a course for the cabin and took
the lead.

As they rode, the scout described the manner in which

talk he and the baron had overheard while waiting at
the edge of the cleared space before going to the Indian’s
aid. be
“You've got this all wrong,” averred Brezee, with
lowering brow. “Your intentions are all right, Cody,
but you’re shy a few this hand. Bigelow can explain
everything, and he will—I promise you that.”

“Since that is the stand you take, Andy,” proceeded
the scout, “I’ll have to give you the story Moonlight
told me for just what you consider it worth. The In-
dian told me a lot about Wyman, and a lot about Bige-
low. I believe him—and perhaps you'll eae him, too,
before we’re done with this affair.” :

Wild Bill was not so far in the lead but that he could
hear what“was going on between those who followed.
As may be imagined, he was as deeply curious regard-
ing Moonlight’s story as were any of the others.

The scout took the events of Wyman’s career in log-
ical sequence, beginning with the St. Louis- robbery
and following on down to the time of Wyman’s arrival
in Virginia City with Moonlight.

Meanwhile, the course the travelers were taking led
them toward the rocky bluffs of Ba-cher-hish-a Creek.
The rocks stood out against the setting sun in weird
contour, their crests touched with a golden glory by the
slanting beams,

LIM ae SR rm

 

ee

See SS poe ene eae ee Seen ee caiman OE EE : Rese ets AEST
ESS aS eee Se : : = Se a i ee a aes eee GEASS ET Le a ag

 
 

 

 

    

THE BUFFALO

 

“I don’t believe a word of all that,” declared Brezee.
“This here is a conspiracy to make out Bigelow to be
a thief and a would-be murderer. It won't go down,
Pard Cody,”

Le re going to the cabin where Bigelow’ met his

gang,’ ‘put in Wild Bill, turning in his saddle. ‘Maybe
something will happen there, Brezee
change your tune.’

“Let it happen then,” answered Brezee doggedly. “The
tune will remain the same.”

Steadily they were drawing near the rocks of Ba-
cher-hish-a.. Wild Bill came to the bare hillside from
the top of which he had watched Bigelow descend to the
creek and turn into the wood. At this point, the high
bastions lay across the creek and to the left of the
horsemen.

Suddenly old Moonlight gave a startled grunt and
caught the scout’s shoulders with his hands,

“What's the matter?” asked Buffalo Bill.

Moonlight did not answer.
upward at the crest of the rocks.

“Halt!” ordered the scout, startled by what he had
geben.

On the brow of the rocky bluff a man was running. It
was Wyman. As he hurried he looked from time to time
at some one behind and below him. It was plain that
his fears were aroused and that he was racing away from
some ne peril, either real or fancied.

“By gorry,’ breathed Wild Bill, “if he don’t look out
he'll take a tumble. He’s ina place, now, where he ought
to look ahead more than he does beliind.”

The rocks, fissured and gashed by some prehistoric
upheaval of the earth’s surface, spread many a pitfall for
the flying feet of the crazy man.

“Look out, Wyman!” roared the scout, using his hands
for a trumpet.

Wyman could be seen to start and turn his eyes side-
ways and downward. At that same moment his foot
slipped and he fell between two bowlders that jutted
out from the steep wall of the bluff. He flung out his
hands and tried to save himself, but the only result was
somewhat to diminish the swiftness of his fall,

Between the bowlders he slid and then dropped from
rock to rock until he splashed into the waters of the
creek. Unobserved by the horsemen, old Moonlight had
slipped to the ground and hurried to the water’s edge.
Hardly had Wyman fallen into the creek before the In-
dian was wading out toward him.

“Look up there, on top of the rocks!” cried Brezee.
“Blamed if it wasn’t Nomad that was chasing him!”

The eyes of the horsemen passed from the swimming
form of Moonlight to the crest of the bluff. There,
mounted on Hide-rack, was the old trapper, starkly out-
lined against the yellow glare of the sun.

, that will make you

All he did was to point:

. Skeptically,

 

BILL: STORIES,
CHAPTER XIV.

WYMAN IS INJURED.

‘““Whoop-ya, Buffler!” yelled Nomad from the top of
the bluff.

“What do you want, Nick?” the scout answered.

“Is Wyman badly hurt?”

“We can’t tell anything about that till Moonlight PS
him out on the bank.”

“Wait thar. Pll come acrost, but I'll hev ter go ter
the end o’ the bluffs afore I kin git down ter the creek.”

“We'll wait.”

The old trapper vanished from the crest of the rocky
uplift, and once more those on the creek bank gave their
attention to Moonlight and Wyman.

The Indian had caught Wyman and had been swim-
ming with him toward the bank. When Moonlight’s feet
touched bottom, he lifted Wy man in his arms and came
splashing up to dry ground.

Every one except the baron dismounted. The baron
held the horses while the scout, the marshal, and the
Laramie man hurried to where the Indian was kneeling
beside Wyman.

Wyman, white and unconscious, was lying sprawled
out on the creek bank. His dripping hair, falling back
from his temples, revealed a trickling stream of red.

“Is he dead,
tone.

“Nah,” returned the Indian, the flat of his hand against a
eWyman’s breast. “Him bad hurt.” He touched the.
injured man’s head and then, parting the wet hair, bent
low to examine the wound. “Mebbyso him keep alive,”
he finished.

The scout, with a large cotton handkerchief in his

Moonlight?” asked the scout in a low

‘hand, -knelt down to bandage the wound.

“Poor old chap!” the scout murmured, his pity ris-
ing at sight of the unconscious face before him. ‘‘Fate
dealt him a terrible hand during the later years of his
life. He hasn’t the face of a criminal, Brezee.”’

“That’s a fact,” agreed the marshal; “still,” he added
“you never can tell what a crazy man’ll do,
Buffalo Bill. See if this won’t help him to corral’ his
Wits.”

Brezee drew a a from his hip pocket. The scout
took it and, while Moonlight held Wyman’s head off the
ground, a swallow of the liquor was forced down the
injured man’s throat.

It had no effect.

“He'll have to be taken to Virginia City and placed in
a doctor’s care,” said the scout, “and the quicker it’s
done, the better.” re

“Tl take him,” volunteered the marshal.

Old Moonlight made a gesture of fierce dissent.

“I wonder,” grunted the marshal, “if the red thinks
Pd jail him in that condition?”

   

   
 

 

 

 

 

 

THE BUFFALO

“T want you to go with Wild Bill and me, Andy,” said
the scout.

“Then who’ I tote Wyman back to camp?’ queried
rezee.

‘Nomad _ will do that.”

At this juncture the old trapper came cantering to
the scene along the creek bank. |

“Is he done fur?” he asked, looking at Wyman. \
“No, Nick,’ answered the scout, ‘but he seems to be
pretty badly injured. Where did you meet up with
him} ie :

“T ketched sight o’ him jest arter I located Hide- oak :
explained the trapper. “The hoss sartinly give me a
run fer my auburn chip. Gin’rally 1 kin walk up ter
Hide-rack anywhar, but this time he’d let me come erbout
so clost, an’ then he'd kick up his heels an’ chase off. I
was workin’ ter git holt o’ him fur purty nigh an hour,
an’ I was jest plannin’ ter ketch him with a bullet when.
he let me come nigh enough ter git hands on the bridle.
Right arter thet I seen Wyman. I yelled fer him ter
stop, but the sound o my voice seemed ter skeer him
inter a fits: He. commenced ter run an’ 1 put/out arter
him, calculatin’ ter explain thet I was a friend when I
come near enough. Fust thing I knowed he was.on
top o’ them rocks, an’ the next thing he had tumbled
inter the creek. I hope ter blazes he don’t cash in. I'd
feel cut up a heap ef he didn’t git over et.”

“We've planned for you to carry him to Virginia City,

_Nick,” said the scout, “and get him into a doctor’s care.
The rest of us have work on hand, and we'll have to
attend to it.”

“T’ll take keer o’ Wyman, shore,”
trapper. “Hand him up ter me, Moonlight.”

Wild Bill helped the Indian lift Wyman to the front
of Nomad’s saddle, and the trapper supported the limp
form as comfortably a$ he could in his arms,

“He looks ter be ready fer the One-way Trail,” went
on Nomad regretfully. “I reckon I kain’t ride very fast,
but Ell do the best. I kin,’

(He started Hide-rack in the direction of town, and
Moonlight moved away at one of the. stirrups.

“You goin’ erlong, Injun?” asked Nomad.

“Ai,” was the laconic response.

‘“That’s all right, Nick,” said the scout ; “let Moonlight
go with you if he wants to. We'll all i. back in camp
before long. See that everything possible is done for
Wyman.”

“Ye kin bank on thet, Buffler.”’

The scout, the Laramie man, the marshal, and the
baron watched the trapper and the Indian until they had
vanished up the bare slope on their way toward the trail.
_. “Hard luck!” exclaimed Buffalo Bill as he turned and
climbed into his saddle. “Wyman was on the point of
settling his

_ observed the scout.

returned the old

score with the man who ruined his life just .

PS a FR Ei Sem EEE is SAN aA ea ap EN TG Mc

BIEL STORIES.
as that accident happened.
is finished !”

Brezee threw a queer look at the scout, but made no
comments.

At the place where Wild Bill had left his horse, on the
occasion of his first visit to the cabin, all the animals
were now left.

“It’s safer,” the Laramie man explained, “to go from
that is, if there’s any one in the cabin.”

“That. « of course!’ said the scout,
won't know until we investigate. Baron, I want you to
stay here and watch the tive stock.” ~ a

“Dot's aboudt all I vas goot for,’ grumbled the baron,
“is to vatch. 1 vatch vile some odders haf der oxcide-
ment. Nefer mindt me!
my time vill come vone oof dose tays.”

Not much attention was paid to the Dutchman. He
might grumble, but he would always prove true as steel

           

~ to any work he was. told by the scout to do.

By that time dusk was falling. The creek ran murmur-

ing through the gathering shadows and no other sound.

broke the stillness.

Silent as spectres, the scout and his friends made their
way in single file through the wood to the cleared space
surrounding the cabin. There they stopped and listened.

“I hear voices,’ whispered Wild Bill.

“So do I,” said the marshal, with some excitement.

“Some of the gang are in the house, at all events,”
“We'll steal up on the cabin and
reconnoitre at close quarters. On your hands and knees,
pards!” ;

Like coyotes they made their way across the cleared
stretch of ground and past the old placerings. Wild
Bill, still in the lead, conducted them to the rear of the
cabin, where he had watched’ and listened several hours
before.

Each man picked out his own point of vantage, and it
so happened that the scout and the marshal were side by
side, peering through a wide chink between two of the
logs.

There were four men in the cabin.
just. lighting a candle as the scout and his friends took
up their positions outside.

All four of them were recognized by the scout as being
members of the gang that had captured old Moonlight.
Two of them, judging from appearances, were not_feel-
ing any too well. One of the two had a bandage around
his forehead, and the other was rubbing his shoulder.

Bigelow was not there!

The scout was conscious of a’ deep disappointment,
while the marshal was correspondingly exultant.

“T wisht I was within gunshot o’ that Dutchman an’
the mule,’ whimpered the than with the bandaged head.
“Ye\kin bet yer moccasins thar’d be lead flyin’.”

“I'd do a leetle shootin’ myself,” put in the man with

Well, Vl See that the work :

“is something we

Py shiminy grickets, meppy —

One: of them was _

 

 

 

 

Let
 

 

 

 

the lame shoulder. “I'll be gad-hooked ef I ever seen
sich a critter fer usin’ its hind feet.’’” |

Wyoming Pete gave a'savage scowl.

“It was thet infernal mule thet played ther deuce with
us sai fie, But ter him:
founded: Injun in spite o’ Cody an’ the Dutchman.”

“The jig’s up, Pete,’ said the fourth man of the group.
BY now, Buffalo Bill hes pumped ole Moonlight dry
an’ knows alkabout everythin’.”

“Thet don’t mean thet ther jig is up, Mayberry,”
swered Wyoming Pete, with an oath. “Wait till we hear
from the ole man. I'll match his wits agin’ Buffalo
Bill’s any day ye kin find in the almanac. Jasper an’
Hicks’ll find him an’ tell him what’s happened. Arter
thet, ye kin bet Harkness’ll come hyer a-runnin’.”

“All I want is my share o’ that Alder swag,” growled
Mayberry. “When I git that, I’m goin’ ter cut out o’
this part o’ the kentry, an’ ye won’t see me fer smoke.’

“That's how I stack up,” said the man with the ban-
daged head. “Now that Buffalo Bill has took holt o’
Wyman’s business good an’ hard, I’m goin’ ter duck.
Nothin’ else ter be done if us fellers wants ter save our
scalps.”

Wyoming Pete was about to ey something,
door was flung open suddenly and a newcomer stepped
hurriedly into the cabin. As he came forward into the
faint ring of candle light, those by the outside wall could
see that the man was Bigelow.

A tense breath escaped Brezee’s lips. His unpleasant
surprise had come. The scout-was sorry for the mar-
shal, but it was right that he should know what manner
of man his father-in-law was. \

Bigelow, advancing into the middle of the cabin, stood

but the

passing his angry eyes around at the faces of his men.

HAPTER XV.

” A By ME A Si BOA ES

Then followed a conversation between Bigelow and
the four members of his gang which could leave not the
slightest doubt of Bigelow’s character in the mind of
the marshal.

Bigelow was furiously angry.

“What sort of men do you call yourselves, anyhow ?”
he demanded. “There were six of you, counting Jasper
and Hicks, and you let Buffalo Bill and that Dutch pard
of his get away with Moonlight! Oh, you’re a fine out-
fit! , You’ve razzled us for fair, and after I’d fix things
with Brezee so that the stage robbegy would be-laid up
against Wyman and Moonlight. The fat’s in the fire,
and all because you six men acted like a lot of addle-
pated fools!”

Wyoming Pete, under a surge of temper, started up
and faced Bigelow.

oo

   

THE BUFFALO.

“we'd hev fixed thet con-~

 

 

 

BILL SLORLES, 25

“Don’t ye go ter callin’ us names, Harkness,” he
threatened. “Thet’s somethin’ we won’t take from you.
We done our best, an’ ef we failed it wasn’t our fault.
I reckon ye don’t know, yet, what it means ter buck
agin’ Buffalo Bill. He’s helpin? Wyman, an’ thet’s what
gives Wyman the bulge on us. All we want o’ you,
Harkness, is jest one thing.”

“Oh,” sneered Bigelow,
do you? What is it?”

“Our share o’ the swag taken from thet stage. Ye
ain't never give us our part o’ it. Whar was it put?
Ye’ve got ter whack up, so’st us fellers kin make tracks
fer parts unknown.”

“T had to use the watch a ie ole. to implicate
Wyman in the robbery, and

“Ye wasn’t fool enough ter leave anythin’ in the wal-
let, was ye?” -

“Hardly,” replied Bigelow. . “What was in the wallet
Tl keep;-and all the rest of the stuff Pll keep. You're
not entitled to a soo, any of you.
thing up so we're all liable to get grabbed. Andy Brezee
will help me because I’m his father-in-law, but he won’t
turn over his hand to help you. The country is. wide,
though, and I reckon you can shift for yourselves.”

“you want something of me,

 

All the men were on their feet by that time, scowling
and muttering.,

“So thet’s yer stripe, is it?’ cried Wyoming Pete, his
right hand moving behind him.

39

“That’s my stripe,” returned Bigelow, drawing a re-
volver, “and you'll bring that hand back in front of you,
Pete, or you'll never move it again.”

The hand dropped harmlessly away from the weapon it
was groping for.

“Tere’s one thing ye kin back on, Mr. Harkness,
otherwise oe cried Wyoming Pete. “If we're
ketched, well blow on the hull game. IT reckon Andy
Brezee won't be ve ter, help. ve much if we do. that,
Give us our share 0’ the loot an’ we'll pull out an’ leave
ye ter slip through the best ye kin. Keep it, an’-——-”

9

Wyoming Pete did not finish, but he gave Bigelow a
look that told him plainly what he might expect in case
he did not comply with demands.

“Whar’s Jasper an’ Hicks?’ demanded Mayberry.

“They've made a bee line for the south,” answered
Bigelow.

“Did ye give them anythin’ ?”

‘Do I look as easy as all that?”

““An’ ye won't give us nothin’ ?”
> "Not All 1 sive you men is:a ‘chance to clear out
without.any gun play. You’ve——”

The man with the bandaged head had crept up behind
Bigelow. At that moment he leaped on his\ back, and
the whole room was in an uproar.

The other three men rushed at Bigelow, and Bi

4

Sih RRP rte tial de eat RO arte ER NI sn tie
__— a a sits ree

. hd
You've boggled the

 

 
 

 

 

eae

&

 

gis PAD Ses sae ot Si seo ets So a Med Ale BM NaI Fy
RT AP ea aN ESS his oi aye a BY ae

en es te EOE A TSS AA SEER ESET I te SNS tan Ay Ba SIE PAE SET TTT
26 THE BUBFALO BILL STORIES.

fought and wrestled all around the cabin, finally over-
turning a table and extinguishing the light.

“Now’s the time, pards,” said the scout. “Andy, you
needn’t mix up in this—just stand at the door and leave
the rough work to Hickok and me. Don’t let any of the
gang get past you, that’s all.”

The scout and his two companions ran around the
cabin to the door. The door was standing open, and Buf-
falo Bill and Hickok rushed through, leaving Brezee
outside. ae

“You're under arrest, all of you!’ roared the scout.
“Break away, there! Try any gun play and you'll find
that we’re ready for you.”

Silence fell suddenly over the struggling men, fell only
to be renewed with redoubled noise.

“It’s Buffalo Bil!” cried the voice of Bigelow.

The scout leaped in the dircetion of the voice, and the
vicious bark of a six-shooter rang through the cabin. It
was Bigelow who had done the firing. Before he could
use his revolver again the scout was upon him, bearing
him to the floor.

The cabin resounded with a tramp of feet. In the
midst of the hubbub there came a crash. Then abruptly
the furious commotion céased.. The scout, clinging to
Bigelow, heard a thump of hoofs diminishing rapidly in
the night.

“Hickok! called the scout.

“Here, pard!” answered the voice of Wild Bill.

“Give us a little light.”

“Tl attend to that,” came the voice of Brezee.

A match glimmered in the gloom and the marshal
could be seen hunting on the floor for the candle. He
found it at last, and when it was lighted the scout and
the Laramie man discovered that they were both clinging
to Bigelow.

“Great Lucifer!” gasped Hickok. “Is this all we get
in the draw, Pard Cody? One man—and the two of us
at him! Where are the rest?”

“Skipped,” answered Brezee wearily; “they broke
through a boarded-up window. Hold up Bigelow’s hands
till I put the bracelets on him.’

“I'll save you that, Andy,” said Wild Bill. “Give ‘em
to me.”

Brezee flung the steel gyves to the Laramie man, and
he put them in place. After that Bigelow was searched
for guns, but none were found. The one he had been
using was on the floor at his side.

“Get up, Bigelow,’ ordered the marshal, when the
scout and Hickok had withdrawn from the prostrate
form of the prisoner.

Bigelow, to an accompaniment of the rattling man-
acles, got slowly erect and stood before Brezee. The
latter looked him over, up and down.

“This is fine news for Mollie,’ growled the marshal.
“How do you reckon I’m to tell her about this?”

“It’s a plot!” cried Bigelow, trying to brazen the mat-
ter through and assert his innocence.

“You're right it’s a plot,’ retorted Brezee, “a plot to
get the better of a poor halfi-crazy ombray that you put
down and nearly out ’way back there in St. Louis.”

“That Indian has been talking to Buffalo Bill, Andy,’
said Bigelow, “and Buffalo Bill has been talking to you.”

‘“That’s right, too, but I didn’t take any stock in what
the Indian said, nor in what Buffalo Bill told me. It
was only when I heard you with my own ears, and saw
you with my own eyes, that I sat up and took notice.”

“What did you see and hear?”

“The hull of it, Bigelow. We was outside the cabin
wall, lookin’ in between the openings in the logs. Oh,
you can’t coddle me a little bit. [’m next to you, Big-
elow.”

Bigelow, seeing that denial was. useless,
slumped down on a bench.

“Leave me alone with him, pards,” said the marshal,
turning to the scout and the Laramie man. “We're goin’
to have a heart-to-heart talk, and | want it private—for
Mollie’s sake.’

The scout was sorry for Brezee. His face was gray
and his lips twitching. His every thought then, the scout
knew, was for the woman who had made his past year a
happy one. |

“We'll wait for you,’ said Buffalo Bill, “at the place
where we left the horses.”

“You needn’t wait, pard. Mount and ride. I’m liable
to be here some time. If we don’t overtake you on the
trail, I'll see you in Virginia City.”

“All right, Andy.”

The scout and the Laramie man left the cabin and
took their way gloomily back to the horses.

“By gorry, but that’s what you call hard, Cody,’
Wild Bill.

TLE ES, Hickok,” answered the scout, “but there wasn’t
any other way we could manage it and do justice to John
Wyman.”

“T reckon not. [’'m a heap sorry for Mrs. Brezee.”

(So am. 1.7

further

’

said

CHAPTER: XV,
ATO Ee OP RA eS) BN

It was just sunrise when John Wyman awoke—and
he awoke to a new and brighter day. Buffalo Bill, Wild
Bill, old Nomad, and Moonlight were with him when he
opened his eyes. «Nomad and Moonlight had béen at the
bedside all night. The doctor had said that Wyman
would live, but that it might be a few hours before he
recovered consciousness. But there were some things
about John Wyman’s case which he did not discover until
later, \

 

 

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

FHE BUFPALO

“He’s openin’ his eyes, pards!” whispered the trapper,
looking around at the scout and the Laramie man.

Old Moonlight, on the other side of the bed, rose up
softly and bent over the man whose consciousness had
just returned.

There was a vacant stare in Wyman’s eyes. He did
not seem to recognize any one, not even Moonlight.

“Where am I?” Wyman asked tremulously.

“In the Happy Days Hotel, Wyman,” replied the scout,
pushing closer to the bedside.

“In St. Lots?” asked Wyman.

“No, in Virginia City, Montana.”

“Montana, Montana! Why, I was in St. Louis last
night. What am I doing in Montana?”

“He's still hazy,’ muttered Wild Bill.

“It has been a long time since you were in St. Louis,

Wyman.”

“What are you calling me Wyman for? My name isn’t
Wyman, but Norcross, John’ Norcross. And I was in
St. Louis last night. I had just finished my collections
and was going to the hotel when I was struck: on the
head and—and Where’s the money?
come of the money 2”

The pards exchanged astonished glances.

“He’s crazier’n ever,” murmured the old trapper. “I
reckon thet fall on the rocks has made him a heap
wuss’n what he was.”

 

“Don’t be in a hurry with your snap judgments, Nick,”
cautioned the scout, a light slowly dawning on him. “Go
and get the doctor.”

Nomad slipped from the room and the scout dropped’

into his chair. Wyman was feeling of the bandage about
his head, and the bewildered look was growing in his
eyes.

“Who’s this Indian?” asked Wyman.

“That’s Moonlight, Norcross,” said the scout.
you remember Moonlight ?”

“Never saw him before.”

“Don’t you know me, either?”

“Now” .

“Tm Buffalo Bill.”

“Ah! Pve heard of you, but this is the first time I
ever saw you.”

“Don’t you remember falling from the rocks into the
creek 7?

“Don’t

‘T didn’t fall from the rocks. Some one hit me in the
street, and that’s the last thing I can remember.”
“You remember the Custer massacre on the Little Big-

horn, don’t your”

“T heard about that, yes. Why, everybody in the coun-
try heard about that.”

“Weren't you in the fight?”

“Me? No, I wasn’t within a thousand miles of the
fight.”

   

What’s be- -

—"

a l=
ate Sen rane ein St ae

   

 

BILL STORIES, | 27

“Do you remember anything about a man named Hark-
ness, or Bigelow ?” :

"INO?

The doctor came just then.

“We'll leave you with him, doctor,” said the scout,
moving toward the door. ‘You'll find a big. change in
him.”

There was a puzzled look in the doctor’s eyes as he
moved toward the bed. He was only a frontier prac-
titioner, and“his medical knowledge was not overly deep.
The scout, the Laramie man, and old Nomad leit the
room. Only Moonlight was left with the doctor. %

“Wouldn’t that knock you slab-sided?” breathed Wild
Bill, when the three of them were seated in front of the
hotel. + é “

“lve heard of ‘one similar case,” answered the scout,
his eyes roaming across the street to the trim little cot-
tage.

Seymour was sitting in the rocking chair on the porch,

‘smoking a pipe and nursing the back of his head from

time to time.

“Thet thar shack,” said Old Nomad, “is a monniment
ter what Wyman was, but he’s forgot all erbout thet.”

In the course of half an hour the doctor came down
from Wyman’s room. He was: smiling and seemed
greatly pleased.

“Queer case, Buffalo Bill,” he remarked, “about the
queerest case I ever ran up against. Wyman lost his
memory in St. Louis, owing to a blow on the head; here,
two or three years afterward, he falls from the rocks,
strikes his head again, and regains ‘his reason. All that
has happened in between that St. Louis affair and the
one here in Montana is a blank—he can remember
nothing about it.”

“Ts, he rational?’ ;

“Perfectly. He’s as sane, now, as either you or I.”

“Then that fall from the bluff was a good thing for

him ?” ;
“The best thing that could have happened to him. He
grazed death by a hair’s breadth and, in doing so, re-
covered his reason. All he remembers is that he must get
back to St. Louis with some money he collected. He’ll
be ready to start in a week or two.”

“Did you tell him the money had been stolen?”

“No. I didn’t want to dash his hopes at this stage of
the game. What I want is to let him get well without
worrying about anything.”

The scout could see the logi¢ of this. Later on, when
Wyman was stronger, he could be told exactly what had

_ happened to him.

“Come over hyer,” shouted Seymour from the steps of |
the cottage. “I got somethin’ I want to show ye.”

The pards crossed the street and the deputy marshal
led them into the front room.
 

   

28 THE BUFFALO

“Hyer’s how Wyman made his getaway,’ said Sey-
mour, and pushed open a small concealed door in the
boiler-plate wall.

The door worked noiselessly, springing back into place
as.soon as the deputy took away his hand.

“Thet accounts fer thet mystery, all right,’ grinned
Seymour, “and :

At that moment Andy Brezee/stepped into the room.
His face wore a sombre, dissatisfied look.

“T was jest showin’ Buffalo Bill an’ his pards how
Wyman got out 0’ the room that time he fooled all o’ ye,
Ano began Seymour.

Brezee waved his hand.

“T’ve got somethin’ else on my mind, just now,’ he
interrupted. “Bigelow. escaped——’’

“Escaped!’? came from the scout and his pards, in a
breath. ;

“Yes, escaped !’? returned the marshal defiantly. “Clear
out, all of you, except Buffalo Bill. I want to talk with
him,”

 

The rest, wondering and guessing, made their way out
of the little house and across the street. Brezee dropped
into a chair.

“That was a lie, Buffalo Bill,” said Brezee. “Bigelow
didn’t escape—I let him go.”

“I knew it,” returned the scout quietly. “What's
more, Andy, I knew you were going to let him go when
Wild Bill and I went away from you, last night.”

“And you meant to let me?”

“Tf I hadn’t, Andy, I shouldn’t have gone. That was
the best thing you could have done, under the circum-
stances.”

The marshal’s face brightened, and he leaned forward
to grasp one of the scout’s hands in both his own.

“You relieve my mind a heap, pard,’ he declared.
“T’ve been hatin’ myself ever since I did it. But whenever
[ thought of Mollie, and of what it would mean to her
to see her father sent over the road, [ just hadn’t the
nerve to bring Bigelow in. But he didn’t get away until
he gave up the plunder taken from the stage passengers.
I’ve got it at home, ready to turn it over to the people it
belongs to.”

“Good! That was well thought of, Andy. Still, I had
an idea you'd think of that.”

“I thought of something else, too,’ the marshal went
on. “Two thousand dollars was taken from Wyman,
there in St. Louis. There’s the money—more greenbacks.
They didn’t come out of the Alder stage, neither.”

 

“Bravo!” approved-the scout. “I want to go on record
as saying that you did exactly the right thing, Andy.”

“I did the wrong thing by lettin’ Bigelow go, pard,
but I couldn’t help myself. I stripped him, though, and
that two thousand will help to undo some of the trouble
he caused.”

4
\
4

Be Pes e: f BARS Rid 7 I 5
BA ge ai lk ASE ROC EN Lal 3 AN ar laa al Wo a es an oh ANE oo as 5

“Did he tell you anything about that St. Louis affair 2

BILL STORIES.

“A little, but not much. He told me there was a man
in it with him, and that the fellow got cold feet after the
job was done and they learned that Wyman was crazy
because of the sandbagging. That fellow’s name was
Wyman, and the man we call Wyman has another name
—-Norcross. Well, Wyman went away with Noreross—
went’ far West, somewhere—hoping he could do some-
thing to help Norcross recover his reason. He took that
night’s work a good deal to heart, that fellow did, and
he devoted his life to Norcross.”

“That clears up a point that’s been bothering me,
Andy,’ said the scout, with great satisfaction. “This
Wyman was lost in the Jornada del Muerto, some time
after he had taken Norcross among the Piutes, but he
had evidently fixed matters so that Noreross should
never come to want. It’s the strangest case, taken all in
all, that I ever heard of.”

“It’s been a mighty hard case for me, but I’m going to
keep everything from Mollie—if I can. What | want
you to do is to prevent this Norcross from making any
more crazy talk in the camp.”

“That’s over with for all time, Andy.”

“What?” cried the marshal, with a start. “The fellow
hasn’t cashed in, has he?”

“No. . He has recovered his reason, and he can’t re
member anything that has happened to him, or anything
he has done, since he was knocked down and robbed in
ot. Louis. He has ‘picked ‘up the thread ‘of. events at
that point.” |

The marshal sank dazedly back in his chair.

“Well, that’s sure a brain-twister,’ he mumbled.

“Tt is,” said the scout, picking up the two thousand
dollars. ‘‘Let’s go over and make Norcross happy by
returning the money.”

“T’m with you,” answered the marshal, and the two
friends left the cottage and made their way across the
street and into the Happy Days Hotel.

THE END.

You've heard of a thing being worth its weight in
gold. Did you ever know of a boy who was so regarded
by persons bargaining for. possession of him? The next
number (457) will contain a story that has a lad upon
whom just that valuation is placed—and he weighs one
hundred and ten pounds. Probably you know him, for he
is one of Colonel Cody’s faithful pards, and has been
with the great scout in many a stirring adventure. A
brace of rascals get hold of the little chap, and demand
his weight in gold as the price of his liberty. Who is
he? Does his friend, Buffalo Bill, meet the demand?
What happens? In the answer is one of the most in-
teresting and remarkable stories ever told by the author
of this series of tales. It is called “Buffalo Bill Repaid;
or, Old Moonlight’s Mystery.” Don’t miss it.. Remem-
ber the number—457.

 

 
  

Diy w

Co

ce ee ee OO

QS

a ie ane a eee ag is. eee ~~ > — T/ ~~ re ea Ss

go rn a eS
 
   
 
 
 
    

 

   

LAT at ene OP aA RNIN NES LTS EMT Fel mtr CES PTET OB pe REA PE eS ead PRIN IP OR yA TLE CCLRC NST, Or MIN Sep EIT BTR NPN DTI Sea

 

(UTED T0 BORDER LIFE
NEW YORK, February 5, 1910,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TERMS TO BUFFALO BILL STORIES MAIL SUBSCRIBERS,
5 al (Postage Free.)
Single Copies or Back Numbers, Sc. Each.

SV ONGHS jis sesessnemeees cme es COG. ONS Wear eet coe ell $2.50
L HOMERS Leese uu eee eee apue sce 8Hc. | 2 copies one year...-..-.-...-- 4.00
6 TOOHENS ceeae dead aes henner mee $1.25 1 copy tWO years.....-....-..- 4,00

How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order,
registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent
by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter.

Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by. proper
change of number on your label, If not correct you have not been properly
credited, and should let us know at once. :

STREET & SMITH, Publishers,

Ormonn G. SmitTH,
79289 Seventh Avenue, New York City.

Guosca C. Serres | Proprietors.

 

 

SPEARING FISH IN BORNEO.
‘Tos or four years ago a brother officer and myself

had the opportunity of attending a big river festival .

held in July by a tribe of Bajaus in British North
Borneo. It was to be held on the Milau River, four
hours’ journey by boat from my headquarters in Kudat, and
Haji Drahim, the head chief of Marudu Bay, who is in the
pay of the British North Borneo government, had invited
us to be present.
Accordingly, having had all necessary kit carried down
and deposited in the large government “prahu,” we started
on our excursion soon after sunrise. The “prahu,” an

-eighteen-foot, flat-bottomed boat, was manned by six

Malay boatmen, and was fitted with a palm-leaved shelter in
the centre, under which we reclined on cushions, secure from
the rays of a tropical sun.

The fresh breeze of early morning caught the large square
sail rigged. to our solitary bamboo mast, and we were: soon
bounding over the clear blue waters of the bay, leaving
the little white settlement of Kudat behind, nestling amid
the hills and surrounded on all sides by jungle and sea.

As we rounded the first little headland the breeze failed us,
so our crew were obliged to resort to their paddles. We
passed the cape close in shore, where the water was shal-
low and clear as crystal, revealing to us innumerable coral
reefs of beautiful color and fantastic shapes.

The deep-blue color of the water threw out, in dazzling
relief, the whiteness of the coral below. Here and there
were patches of varied color, where sea anemones clung
to the rock, waving their petal-like feelers toward the sun-
flecked surface. Festoons of bright-colored seaweed
abounded in every crevice. Fish of many kinds darted to
and fro beneath. us.

On the farther side of the little promontory we passed
close to a Bajau village, built, as is the custom, on stakes
over the water, many of the houses having no connecting
link with the shore at all. A few small native fishing boats

‘were rocking on the tide, from which their occupants were

lazily waiting with uplifted spears for any unwary fish which
might rise near the surface.

Three hours of alternate sailing and paddling brought us
to the mouth of the Milau River. Here we found a small
fleet of “prahus” lying bows on to the beach, conspicuous
among which was the old chief's state barge, with its im-
mense flag floating from the stern post.

As we stepped ashore we were received with great cere-
mony by our friend Haji Drahim and his son, while at a

THE BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

e

respectful distance in the background were grouped their
numerous followers. The old chief and his son led us up
to the little village, which lay some two hundred yards
back from the water’s edge.

The village, like most others in Borneo, consisted of two
long rows of huts facing each other and raised from the
ground on piles about ten feet high. A common platform
ran the whole length of each row, the various families
being separated from each other by means of partitions
made of palm leaves dried and sewn together.
space inclosed between the two rows. roamed wild-looking
dogs, which seemed busy eating the offal and refuse thrown
from the huts,

The inhabitants of the village were congregated on the
platforms of their huts awaiting our arrival. Most of them
were either smoking cigarettes of native-grown tobacco
rolled in the long leaves of the “nipa” palm, or chewing their
favorite betel nut. Clothes did not seem to be very plentiful
among them, but the women and girls wore a great variety
of metal ornaments, conspicuous among which was a brass
hoop necklace, standing out quite a foot from thein necks.

We were the objects of much curiosity as we entered
the village, dusky faces on all sides peering down at us from
their treelike perches.

Our friend the Haji insisted upon our partaking of his
hospitality, and led the way up the dangerous-looking ladder
which conducted to his hut in the centre of the village.
Here for half an hour we reclined on mats, smoking cig-
arettes, and indulging very modestly in a nasty heady liquor
called “tapeian,’ by means of bamboo tubes dipped in a
common family jar placed in the middle of the hut.

There was soon a great stir and preparation \going for-
ward-in the village for the approaching fishing excursion
and feast. All the inhabitants, with the exception of the
very old women and the very young children, made for
the boats, and the long procession started to paddle up the
river. The chief's barge and our “prahu,”’ as flagships,
brought up an imposing rear. The entire fleet must have
comprised at least forty “prahus” and as many small canoes.

For nearly two hours this weird-looking procession of
boats paddled silently upstream, through long, calm, sunny
reaches, each bend in the winding river displaying yet
another picture of beauty and forest splendor. On either
hand low hills ran steeply upward from the water’s edge,
smothered in vast clumps of bamboo, bunch after bunch
of feathery plumes, the highest making a broken, undulating
line of dainty fretwork against the colorless morning sky.

Near the river brink huge mangrove trees stretched their
gnarled roots far out into the water; from root to branch

top they were festooned with innumerable parasites, great

tree ferns, smooth or shaggy, with their feet in rich mosses;
orchids of many kinds, with here and there a little point
of color marking where some rare blossom nestled cozily;
creepers and twining vines, some eating into the heart of
the boughs to which they clung, some lightly hanging to
the branches like fine drapery, some twined about and about

Yin an extricable network of tangled knots, others dropping

sheer into the stream below and swaying constantly as the
current played about their feet.

Now and again a troop of monkeys would fly screeching
and chattering into the deeper jungle, lightly throwing them-
selves from branch to branch and from ‘tree to tree as
our flotilla approached. Gorgeously colored birds would
here and there sweep over our heads across this beautiful
waterway, while the weird cry of the hornbill would inter-
mingle with the liquid note of the wau-wau, a long-haired
monkey, from the jungle fastnesses on either side. Butter-
flies of varied and lovely hues flitted about in the sun.
Every now and again the ungainly form of a crocodile
would come into view as it lay basking in the hot mud,
followed by a dull splash as the monster plunged oyt of
sight into the water at our near approach.

It was a gerfect fairyland of forest through which the

In the’

  
     

 
  
 
     
  

 

 

 

 

 

%,

20 THE BUFFALO

river bore us. The long file of “prahus” lent a touch of
life to the unchanging prospect of water and jungle. “

At last, shortly after midday, we reached a widening in
the river where the fishing was to commence. The boats
drew up, four and six deep, alongside the bank, and the
final preparations for the great event of the day took
place. For some days previously large quantities of a
certain root had been collected near the spot. This par-
ticular root, when bruised and mixed with water, has a
poisonous effect on fish, causing them to come gasping to
the surface. The pounding and bruising of these roots
with clubs occupied the entire younger portion of the men
for fully an hour. When sufficiently pounded up it was
placed in six small ““dug-outs”’ and mixed freely with water.
This concoction, after, it had been allowed sufficient time to
soak, bore the appearance of thick pig swill.

When all was in readiness the six dug-outs, each manned
by a young native, put off into midstream with their loads
of a poisonous liquid, Forming into a line across the river

-the occupant of.each began gently to rock his canoe with his

feet planted one on each side, to the tune of a melancholy
chant.

The rocking motion increased as the chant grew louder,
till at a given signal each canoe was suddenly capsized,
emptying the contents into the river. It was wonderful to
watch the agility of the natives in the water. In less
time than it takes to tell, they had righted their “dug-outs,”
and were .once more inside them, paddling hard for the
bank. The scene now became one of intense excitement.
Forty “prahus” shot like arrows into the stream. At the
bow of each stood a native with his three-pronged barbed
fish spear poised in his hand.

In a very few moments scores of fish, large and small,
came gasping to the surface, and then the sport waxed
fast and furious. In all directions fish were leaping, spears
were flying, and frequent collisions, taken in good part,
seemed only to add extra excitement to the sport. Women
and children joined equally in the fun, and the dexterity
shown by the throwers was marvelous to behold. Many
was the exciting wrace to secure an extra large fish, and
many was the large fish that carried away spear and all in
its mad career. ; ;

The old chief had lent me a spear, so I joined in the
thick of the chase. After missing many fine fish and having
several times nearly thrown myself out of the boat, I
became quite au fait at the sport, and landed some. very
fair specimens, much to the delight of our friend the Haji.

The chase lasted for two hours, as we drifted down
stream almost as fast as the poisonous current itself. It
may be well to add here that the fish which are lucky enough
to escape the spears invariably recover, and derive no ill
effects from their unpleasant and nauseating experience.

One native we saw was evidently the “‘Dan Leno” of the
tribe. He was intensely funny, and possessed a face which
would have commanded a handsome salary at a variety
show. His hat was spiral in shape and made of ‘straw
of many colors, the spiral part being surmounted by three
sharp prongs. It.was held in place by means of a red
cloth attached each side to the outer brim and passed under
the owner’s chin.

By the time we had reached the village again, at the
mouth of the river, each boat was more or less loaded with
spoil. The fish was piled in glittering heaps on the shore,

and preparations for the ensuing feast commenced. We only“

stopped long enough to have a small meal and “to allow
our crew to do the same, not having broken our fast since
the morning. Having bade good-by to our friend Haji
Drahim and his followers, and wished them a_ successful
feast, we once more embarked, leaving the villagers to carry
out their programme, which certainly would not cease
till the light of another day broke in upon their not over
decorous festivities.

_ We were soon skimming over the bay on our homeward

{

BILL STORIES.

voyage by the light of the young moon, and to the musical
chant of our Malay boatmen as they whistled and called,
after their fashion, for wind to fill the sail, carving as
we went a path of phosphorescent light through the dark
waters.

ea

A GAME WITH A BRIGAND.

WAS on the engineering staff of a large firm of con-
tractors, whose specialty was dock and harbor work.
They had entered into a contract with the authorities

-‘at a small Mediterranean port to carry out certain ex-
tensions of the harbor, and I was deputed to go there and
take charge of a section of the work.

It was a dreary little place, situated, as it were, on the
verge of a marshy plain,. which intervened between. the
coast and a range of mountains some four or five miles
inland.

Now, the principal and everlasting subject of discussion
among the inhabitants was the exploits of a notorious band
of brigands, whose headquarters was situated somewhere in
this mountain range. From what I could learn their chief
was a man of good family, but, as is often the,case, riotous
living and its consequences caused him to “take to the moun-
tains,’ and become what he was.

He had, however, this trait, that, although he robbed the
rich, he never in the slightest,degree molested the poor, but
woe betide any captives who could pay ransom and would
not—to these he was reputed to be absolutely merciless.

Almost needless to say, there was very little chess out
there, but I used to, carry about with me a small folding
pocket chessboard, With which I. pleasantly whiled away
many an odd spare hour, either Yollowing the published
gamés of the great masters or in solving some good two
or three-move problems. I mention this because, as will be
seen, that little chessboard played an important part in what
I am about to relate.

In those days I used to dabble a little in geology, and
during my walks I was usually on the lookout for specimens,

but, owing to the nature of the ground, my “finds” in the’

immediate vicinity of the town were few and far between.
One holiday, however—a native fete day, or something of the
kind—I determined to try my luck farth¢ér afield and spend
the day among the mountains; so in the early morning I
started off with my satchel and hammer, in great hopes of
bagging some good specimens. _I* had got but a few yards
on my journey when one of my fellow engineers jokingly
called out after me, “Beware brigands!” I gave a little start,
for, candidly, I had not given them a thought, but I was not
going to turn back now, so I replied I would take my chance,
and on I went.

It did not take me very long to get over the few interven-
ing miles, and when I reached the mountains I was soon
busy enough, and time passed quickly. My “finds” really
exceeded my anticipations, and I was in the act of examin-
ing a more than usually interesting specimen when, without
any warning, | was suddenly seized from behind, and, in
almost less time. than it takes to tell it, 1 was roughly gagged
and my arms were pinioned.

When I had somewhat “recovered from my surprise and
none too gentle usage, I found that my captors were a couple
of rough-looking armed men. I at once guessed into whose
hands I had fallen, and wished that, although only spoken
in jest, I had taken heed of my friend’s warning, “Beware
brigands!” *

One of the men took off his sash and bound it round my
eyes, and then, grasping my arms, they quickly marched me
off without more ado. For some little time we seemed to be
still farther ascending the mountains, then all at once I
heard the sound of many voices, and we came to a stop, the
bandage was taken from my eyes, and the gag removed. I
saw at a glance I was in the brigands’ camp, an almost ideal
natural stronghold, a kind of small mountain valley sur-

   

     

    
    
 
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
    
  
 
   
   
   
   
  
    
    
    
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
 

Sa

   

  
ens Sal 8 baat ¢ otek fee Pe ep. eee

 

 

THE BUFFALO

rounded by precipitous cliffs on all sides except one—the en-
trance, which could easily be held by a: few well-armed men
against almost half a regiment.

Scattered about were a number of tents and sundry bag-
gage, while lounging round were perhaps a good half. score
Op “unkempt but picturesque-looking ruffians. Seated at a
small table in front of one of the ‘largest tents, smoking a
cigarette, was a well-dressed, powerful- looking man, whose
features still bore traces of culture and refinement, while
his superior bearing caused me at once to presume, and pre-
sume correctly, that I was face to face with the famous
brigand chief about whom I had heard so much.

Standing alongside him, however, was a man of a very
different type, better dressed and better armed than the
others, but one of the most villainous-looking men I ever
met. I very soon found that he was, so to speak, the chief’s
lieutenant, or “second in command.”

One of my captors, taking off his hat and addressing the
chief, said:

“We came across this man close to camp. He appeared
to be searching about, and from time to time broke off pieces
of rock with his hammer. We thought it best to bring him
with us.”

Fortunately I knew enough of the language both to under-
stand what was being said and also to “make myself under-
stood.

The chief turned toward me and eyed me up and down,
and, when he had finished his scrutiny, said sharply, “Who
are you?” I told him that I was an engineer who had come
over from England in connection with the harbor extension
at the port.

“What brought you up here?” he demanded.

“T was hunting for fossils, as you will see from the speci-
mens in my satchel,” I replied.

“But how are we to know that you are not a spy, and that
this fossil-hunting, as you call it, is not merely a blind?” he
said.

‘“T have letters and papers in my pockets which will prove
to you beyond a doubt that what I have told you is correct,”

I answered.

The chief, turning toward the man who had: acted as
spokesman, said abruptly, “Search him.”

The man unbound me, and quickly went through my pock-
ets and emptied out their contents onto the table—letters,
papers, money, and other sundries, including my pocket
chessboard. The former consisted of letters from home, let-
ters of instructions from my firm in England, plans relating
to the works, etc. The letters were, of course, written in
Enelish, but I noted that the chief read them through ap-
parently without difficulty, thus confirming what I had heard
as regards him being a man#®f superior education.

Then, after carefully examining the plans, he inquired
generally, “Has any one ever seen this man before?’ One
of the men, stepping forward, replied, “Yes; when I was at
the port the other day I saw him on the quay, superintend-
ing the operations there.”

Turning toward his. sinister- looking lieutenant the chief
sean op: ‘his man has evidently told us the truth. It is not
of much use holding him for ransom. I think we had better
liberate him.”

“Truth or no truth, ransom or no ransom,” the man re-
plied, “we cannot do that.. He has eyes to see, and has seen
what no one else has ever seen but ourselves,”

“That may be,” the chief responded, “but he was brought
blindfolded here, and blindfolded he will be taken away. The
men were quite right in bringing him in.’

“That is just where they were wrong,”
man somewhat defiantly. “They would have done right in
detaining until we could have questioned him, but they did
wrong in bringing him here, but, as he is here, i protest, for
your safety and ours, against him being let go.’

A murmur of appr oval went u Pp from the men, who seemed
to be now getting somewhat Beech pat better, ” he added,

interrupted the

BIT STORES. ; 3t

“to tie him up to a tent pole and let the men have some rifle
practice; Dead men tell no tales!” and ‘he grinned sar-

. donically.

It was evident he was in a
quancary. He apparently did not wish to set himself against
the whole band, but, on the other hand, whatever the men
might think, he seemed to know well enough that their safety
would not be endangered by my liberation, and was there-
fore reluctant to countenance what would have been noth-
ing more or less than a-heartless murder.

‘He turned toward the table on which lay my helonbhes:
and suddenly, as if a thought had just struck him, he picked
up my little chessboard, and, holding it out toward me, said:
“T take it, from having this in your possession, that you
play chess.”

Nes? I replied, wondering what was coming next.

“Well,” he added, “I will give you a chance. You will
play a gaine with me now. If you win, you are free to go;
if you lose——” He did not finish the sentence, but tapped
the pistol in his belt significantly.

I understood what he meant. He then made a gesture to
one of the men, who quickly brought out of the tent a full-
sized board and a set of the most beautifully carved ivory
chessmen ] have ever seen. The man placed the board on
the table, arranged the chessmen, and then brought another
chair.

The chief motioned for me to be seated. Were I to live
till doomsday I should never forget that game—the sur-
roundings, the conditions. To win meant life and freedom;
to lose meant an ignominous death. It was indeed a mo-
mentous game.

After the first few opening moves I quickly found that -I
was contending against a player of no mean skill; indeed, the
way in which he developed his pieces was so masterly that
ina very short time I was in a dangerously critical posi-
tion. He had castled on his king’s side, and his king was
on his knight's square, protected in front by the knight's
pawn. My queen and bishop were on the same diagonal,
covering this pawn, but intervening between the two was my
remaining knight.

I. saw. that a crisis was at hand, and in sheer desperation
I jammed my knight in front 6f one of his rooks and thus
attacked his queen. The crisis now became acute with a
vengeance. If he took my knight with his rook he would
be mated on the move, but if he moved his queen correctly
he would not only frustrate the threatened mate, but I could
be mated in three moves. Now, which would he do?

I watched him keenly and my heart sank, as by the little
smile which flickered round the corners of his mouth I
knew that he had seen through my thin ruse. He moved his
hand slowly toward his queen, and seemed about \to grasp
the piece, when suddenly he hesitated, and for some seconds

—ahout the longest seconds I remember—he held his hand
motionless. I saw him ane at me, and then, almost with
a rush, he took my knight with his rook.

I could scarcely believe my own eyes, and, involuntarily,
I gave an exclamation of joy, as with my queen I took his
king’s knight’s pawn—mate! I raised my head and ‘looked
him. fully in the face, and our eyes met—only for an instant,
but in that instant I read in them what told me,all—told me
why he had lost the game; told me he had lost it purposely
to save my life.

I stood up and impulsively held out my hand to him across .
the board. “Chief,” I said, “God bless you!”

He looked up at me, with a look somewhat akin to sur-
prise—stirprise perhaps at the unexpectedness of what I had
said. Slowly rising, he gripped my hand.

Then, turning to my two. captors, he gave them some
whispered Fisirucnons. The men handed me back the con-
tents of my pockets intact, and, after again securely ban-
daging my eyes, they took hold of each of my arms and
led me away down what seemed to be a ‘steep and rugged
mountain path, and at the end of it set me free.

The chief made no reply.

 
 

  

 

 

 

The heroes of the stories published in this weekly are dear to the hearts of 60,000 boys.
Thirty-two big pages.

'689—Diamond Dick’s Sagacity; or, A Clever Scheme ‘Disclosed.

splendid Western character. High art colored covers.

684—Diamond Dick on the Farm; “or,
Strangers.

685—Diamond Dick and the Dummy Deacon;
Trail.

686—Diamond Dick’s Chase; or, On the Track of Charlie.

687—Diamond Dick’s Young Partner: or, Jimmy Lang’s Western
Tour.

688—Diamond Dick and the Young Deserter; or, Solving a Mys-

The Mission of the

or, On, a Silent

WEEKLY

Diamond Dick is 4
Price, 5 cents.

690—Diamond Dick’s Winning Stroke; or, A Blackmailing Riddle
Solved.

691—Diamond Dick’s Dart; or,/Won by a Silver Clue.

692—Diamond Dick’s Mark; or, Baffling the Outlaw Band,

693—Diamond Dick’s Strong Hand; or, Nabbing the Gold Grab-
bers. :

694—Diamond Dick’s Great Dive; or, The Theft of the Golden
Medals.

 

 

= BUFFAL

The most original stories of Western adventure.
Buffalo Bill. High art colored covers.

444—Buffalo Bill’s Comrades;
Robbed the Indians.

445—Buffalo Bill in the Bad Lands; or, A Brave Attempt to Pre-
vent a War.

446—Buffalo "Bill and the Boy Bugler; or, The Mysterious Girl
of Sacred Mountain.

447—Buftalo Bill and the Heathen dee or, The Missing Wit-
ness.

448—Buffalo Bill and the Chink War; or, Playing with Fire.

449—Buffalo Bill’s Chinese Chase; or, The Battle of the Tongs.

 

_ot, Breaking the “Ring” that

oe
Be
Es!

The only weekly containing the adventures of the famous
Thirty-two big pages.

 

 

Price, 5 cents.

450—Buffalo Bill’s Secret Message ; or, Professor Six and the
Cipher.

451—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Hermosa; or, The Red
Rivals of the Rio Bravo.

452—Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail; or, Foiling the Red Invaders,

453—Buffalo Bill’s Quarry; or, Captain Rance, of the Gold
Seekers.

454—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood; or, The Trail of the Copper-
head.

455—Buftalo Bill’s First Aid; or, Saving the Shotgun Messenger.

 

 

All kinds of stories that boys like.

covers. Thirty-two big pages. Price, 5 cents.
360—Yankee Grit; or, With Stanley in “Darkest Africa.’ By
Harrie Irving ‘Hancock.

361—The Tiger’s Claws; or, Out with the Mad Mullah. By
Weldon J. Cobb.

362—A Taxicab Tangle; or, The Mission of the Motor Boys.
By Stanley R. Matthews.

363—A Hoodoo Machine; or, The Motor Boys’ Runabout No.
1313. By the author of “A Taxicab Tangle.”

364—Pluck Beats Luck; or, Tom Talbot’s Trials and Triumphs.
By John L. Douglas.

365—Two Young Adventurers;

or, ihe Czar of Yoddland, , By
Harrie Irving Hancock.

 

KLY

The biggest and best nickel’s worth ever offered. High art colored

366—The Roustabout Boys; or, A Trip to Maine.
of “Never Give Up.”

367—-Aboard the Lively Bee; or, An American Boy’s Adventures
in War. “By John De Morgan.

308—Sparkling Plunder; or, Gordon Keith Bagging -Jailbirds.
By Lawrence White, Jr.

369—-Under Full Steam; or, The Tugboat Route to Success. By
John L. Deuglas.

370—The Boys of Liberty; or, The Adventures of Paul Revere.
By John De Morgan.

371—The House of Mystery; of Working a Great Scheme. By
Matt Royal.

By the Author

For sale by all nedisdeclene, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price,
cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York

 

 

IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS

of our Weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be
obtained from this office direct.
us with the pelts of the Weeklies you want and we will send them to you by return mail.

Fill out the following Order Blank and send it +9
POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONEY.

 

STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.

Dear Sirs:

TIP TOP WEEKLY,
NICK CARTER WEEKLY, “
DIAMOND DICK WEEKLY, “‘

Enclosed please find..

eecceseoescoc eo ese een eres eeee eoeose

eeoceesce ss eee coe a e2e8 e@eececeeesoeoe

sees ecules eee ts eecee ses «CENTS for which send mes

NOS CG se

%

Mena se elec Mise Des S cle es Ule bie BOR Coe hee cee eee ecesoioO

@

BUFFALO BILL STORIES, NOoS...........cccccccececccecceccee
BRAVE AND BOLD WEEKLY,“ ..............s.cccacecececcecee”

Su

NAME... .ceseiccccccccrvcsccscceceneeces FECL se secusecccscceniseseseccccces Clty sosvecccccccsscecesccecccece + Stes ercvoscvece

Cte lay net eh, ae yeh WEN ll bk me AAA th

 

   

See ein

 

   
     
)

ed.
dle

len

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

BUFFALO BILL STORIES

 

 

ISSUED EVERY TUESDAY

BEAUTIFUL COLORED

COVERS

 

 

There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures

of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are.

weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces dealing with Western adventure.
Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to

know all there is to know about him.

the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the BUFFALO BILL STORIES.

We give herewith a list of all of the back numbers in print.
order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in
money or postage-stamps.

177—Buffalo
223—Buffalo
224—Buffalo
228—Buffalo
229—Buffalo
237—Buftalo
238—Buffalo
241—Buffalo
242—Butftfalo
243—Buffalo
244—Buffalo
245—Buffalo
246—Buffalo
247—Buftfalo
248—Buffalo
249—Buffalo
250—Buffalo
251—Buffalo
252—Buftfalo
253—Buttalo
254—Buffalo
256—Buffalo
257—Buftfalo
258—-Buffalo
259—Buffalo
261—Buffalo
262—Buffalo
263—Buftalo
264—Buffalo
265—Buffalo
266—Buffalo
267—Buffalo
269—Buffalo

King

271—Buffalo
272—Buffalo
273—Buffalo
274—Buffalo
275—Buffalo
276—Buffalo
277—Buftfalo
278—Buffalo
280—Buffalo
282—Buftfalo
283—Buffalo
284—Buffalo
285—Buffalo
286—Buffalo
287—Buffalo
288—Buffalo
289—Buffalo
290—Buffalo
291—-Buffalo
292—Buffalo
293—Buffalo
295—Buffalo
297—Buffalo
298—Buffalo
299—Buffalo
800—Buffalo
301—Buffalo
303—Buffalo
804—Buffalo
305—Buffalo
306—Buffalo
3807—Buffalo
308—Buftfalo
309—Buffalo
310—Buffalo
311—Buffalo
312—Buftalo
313—Buffalo
314—Buffalo

Bill in Morenci
BilizsrHlOnida; OCS sioner rsis ei ece's
Bills -GrimieClmMp oo. ec: . i. oe
Bills Ate VOVaAzes . ieee ois iets
Bill’s Death Thrust.

Bill on the Staked Plains.
Bill’s Border Raid.....
Bill’s Dakota Dare- devils.
Bills Arapahoe Alliance. i
Bill on Special Service......
Bill on a Treasure Hunt....
Bill's) Bost sQuarry en. si vos6 5 c8.
Bill Among the Comanches...
Bill’s Stockade. Siege........
Bill’s Creek Quarrel........
Bill Among the Pawnees.....
Bill on a Long Hunt.
Bil’s Wyoming Trail. é
Bill and the Redskin Wizard.
Bill’s Bold Challenge........
Bill’s Shawnee Stampede.....
Bill onva Desert Prail ic oc .,
Bill’s Rio Grande Feud......
Bill in Tight ee Bhan ects ote
Bill’s Daring Rescue. 3
Bill’s Treasure Train .
Bill Among the Blackfeet.
Bill’s Border Beagles. 3 :
Bill and the Bandits in “Black..
Bill and the Indian Tiger.
Bill on the Deadwood Trail. . é
Bill in the Cafion of Death..
Bill and the Robber mane

Bill and ‘the “Traitor Soldier.
Bill’s Dusky Trailers. :
Bill’s Diamond Mine. He
Bill and the Pawnee Serpent..
Bill’s Scarlet Hand
Bill Running the Gantlet....
Bill’’s Leap in the Dark......
Bilks7 Daring (Plunges...
Bills) Ghost “Raid. oe ccc.
Bills Campatrese eo. ws
Bil Up aniStumpiey oc eck
Bis Secret sHOC. cere chide
Bill’s Master-stroke........
Bill and the Masked eee
Bill and the Brazos Terror.
Bill’s Dance of Death. ;
Bill and the Creeping Terror..
Bill and the Brand of Cain.
Bill and the Mad Millionaire.
Bill’s Medicine#lodge........
BEM eerily iceke a aie
Bill in the Death Desert.....
Bill’s Border Ruffians.......
Billis: Black Wasieccccte, 0.
Bill’s Desperate Dozen......
Bill’s Rival
Biller Poe (Chase seca sees care
Bill and the White Specter..
Bill’s Death Defiance.......
Bill and the Barge Bandits..
Bill, the Desert Hotspur....
Bill’s Wild Range Riders....
Bill’s Whirlwind Chase......
Bill’’s Red Retribution ..
Bill Haunted

Bi Sieh Ore W1te fiepsn eos o sie
BS TISe WD Gaeh y UTD sae, lelstie faite ote
Bill and the Pit of Horror...
Bill in the Jaws of Death....

OLOTLOU OT OL OT ON OF OF OT OT OT OF OT OF OF OV OT OL OF OF OV OT OL OT OLOT OT OULOTOUOTOULOUOTOUOLOUOLOU = OLOTOTOT OVOT ON ON OVOT OUOT ON OT ON OV OT OV OT OU ON OVO OV OU OVOT OUOVOUOVON

 

315—Buffalo
316—Buffalo
318—Buffalo
319—Buffalo
320—Buffalo
321—Buffalo
322—Buftalo
324—Buffalo
325—Buffalo
326—Buffalo
327—Buffalo
328—Buffalo
329—Butffalo
330—Buffalo
831—Buffalo
332—Buffalo
333—Buffalo
334—Buffalo
335—Buffalo

337—Buffalo
838—Butftalo
339—Buffalo
340—Buffalo
341—Buffalo
342—Buffalo
343—Buffalo
344—Buftfalo
345—Buffalo
346—Buftfalo
347—Buffalo
348—Buffalo
349—Buffalo
350—Buffalo
351—Buffalo
352—Buffalo
353—Buffalo
354—-Buffalo
355—Buftalo
356—Buffalo
357—Buffalo
358—Buffalo
359—Buffalo
360—Buffalo
862—Buffalo
363—Buffalo
364—Buffalo
366—Buffalo
367—Buffalo
368—Buffalo
3869—Buffalo
370—Buffalo
371—Buffalo
372—Buffalo
3873—Buffalo
374—Buffalo
375—Buffalo
3876—Buffalo
377—Buffalo
378—Buffalo
379—Buffalo
3880—Buffalo
381—Buffalo
382—Buffalo
383—Buffalo
384—Buffalo
385—Buffalo
886—Buffalo
387—Buffalo
388—Buftfalo
389—Buffalo
390—Buffalo
891—Buffalo

Bill’s Aztec Runners.........
Bill’s Dance with ee ya
Bill’s Fiery Eye.. nee
Bill’s Mazeppa Ride. Dee es iewan aac
Bill in the Land of pee
Bill’s Gypsy Band. Bus
Bitlis: “Maverick ca jecas fit yoaters
Bill's /Gold® Huntersi.7) ue.
Bill in Old Mexico.

Bill’s Message from the Dead
Bill and the Wolf-master.
Bill’s Flying Wonder.......
Bills’ Hidden’ Gold. ice.
Bills Outlaw) Trails ess
Bill and the Indian Queen...
Bill and the Mad Marauder...
Bills. lee. Barricades a3). e%.
Bill and the Robber Elk.
Bill’s Ghost Dance. ‘
Bill's" P€aGe-PIDe i.e siiele ie ees
Billie’ Red: INEMesiss cuisioice sets
Bill’s Enchanted Mesa......
Bill in the Desert of Death..
Bilis Paya Sineakec. tien
Bill on Detached Duty......
Bill’s Army Mystery........
Bis! SULDLISe. Parties svete: 6
Bilis Grea Rides oe, ms
Bills Water erates ee vac.
Bill’s Ordeal of: Fire. ...:5...
Bill Among the Man-eaters...
Bill’s Casket of Pearls......

IBIS Skee Pilots wy ven) viele F

Bill’s “Totem” .

Bill’s Flat-boat Drift. it
BIT ONVEDCCK eee ese tec
Bill and the Bronco Buster...
Bill’s Great Round-up.......
IBIS Bled sen ieee ial,
Bill's) Cowboy. Pard. ss e055 5.
Bill and the Hmigrants......
Bill Among the Pueblos.....
Bill’s Four-footed -Pards......
BINS PRrOte ee cies) sisieraks biatine as.
Bills “Bick-Wp ve SiGe aie
BS OUCSES  taeesciete ater s: Clete nets
Bill’s Waif of the Plains....
Bill Among the Mormons...
BAS ASSIStamces tate cites cc quslete
Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail....
Bill and the Slave-Dealers..
Bulls SEron SyyA Ta wii. eke iss cies
BUNS |GATU RAT Gia iscsi
Bill’s Iron Bracelets.........
Bills RancheRiders 0s.) sia
Bills; Jade Amulet: . 5... 52.
Bilis: | Magic: aniat oii. sess
Bill’s ‘‘Paper-Talk’’.. Beets
BillsBridge of: Mire esau os
Bill’s Bowie

Bills= Pay-streak... |. oc ss)ece
ISAS MELON uO sarah aries sails
Biles | ClEAMEUP aie ais alee ies
Bill’s Ruse

Bill Overboard

Bill’s Ring. Pe ree ln ta ane
Bill’s Big Contract .. Daa liste tits tein
Bill and Calamity Jane......
Bill’s Kid Pard

Bill’s Desperate Plight.......
Bill’s Fearless Stand. Si
Bill and the Yelping Crew. :
Bills ‘Guiding Hands occu.

5
5
5

5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5

5
5
5

5
5
5
5
5
5
5
>
>
5
5
a
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5)
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
i
5
5

R
5
5
5
5
5
5
5

 

These stories have been read exclusively in this

In no manner can you hecanie so thoroughly acquainted with

You can have your news-dealer

392—Buffalo
393—Buffalo
394—Buffalo
395—Buftalo
3896—Buttalo
397—Buffalo
398—Buffalo
399—Buffalo
400—Buffalo
401—Buffalo
402—Buffalo
403—Buffalo
404—Buffalo
405—Butffalo
406—Buffalo
407—Buffalo
£08—Buffalo
409—Buffalo
410—Buffalo
411—-Buffalo

412—Buffalo
413—Buffalo
414—_Buffalo
415—Buffalo
416—Buffalo
417—Buffalo
418—Buffalo
419—Buffalo
420—Buffalo

421—-Buffalo
422—Buffalo
423—Buffalo
424—Buffalo
425—Buffalo
426—Buffalo
427—Buffalo
428—Butffalo
‘429—Buffalo
430—Buffalo
431—Buftalo
432—Buffalo
433—Buffalo
434—-Buffalo

435—Buffalo

436—Buffalo

437—Buftfalo

438—Buffalo

439—Buffalo

440—Buffalo

441—-Buffalo

442—Buffalo

443—Buffalo

444—Buffalo

445—Buffalo
446—Buffalo
447—Buffalo
448—Buffalo
449—Buffalo
450—Buffalo
451—Buffalo

mosa.

452—Buffalo
453—Buffalo
454—Buffalo
455—Buffalo
456—Buffalo
457—Buffalo
458—Buffalo
459—Buffalo
460—Buffalo
461—Buffalo

Bill’s Queer Quest..
Bill’s Prize “Getaway”
Bill’s Hurricane Hustle......
SUURS SUA Beeb eV cs cea ctenstarne siete us
BUS Bite ies ee epee eae
BALES TPA CK ERS ss cenci's estes «els
Billss Dutch Pard’,. iho as
Bill and the Bravo... ..:.5:....%
Bill and the Quaker..
Bill’s Package of Death .
Bill’s Treasure Cache.......
Bill’s Private War...

Bill and the Trouble Hunter. .
Bill and the Rope Wizard.
BAS PANG Shae era aie cea te tee ot
Bill Among the Cheyennes...
BI BeSiCS CG iret cia s\ cite rectal ese te
Bill and the Red Hand.......
Bill’’s Tree-trunk Drift.

Bill and the Specter....

Bill and the Red Feathers.
Bill’s King Stroke.

Bill, the Desert Cyclone..
Bill’s Cumbres Scouts.

Bill and the Man- wolf.

Bill and His Winged Pard.
Bill cat. Bapy lon. Ban. iene ie
Biles Wome. Ammer eek. ts
Bill and Old Weasel Top....
Bill’s Steel Arm Pard......
Bills AZteC . Gulde wep serials
Bill* and Hittle, Wirefly.) 2...
Bill:-in the. Aztec. City... 03%

CLOVOTOUOT eg, OT OT OT OV OTOL OT OU OTOUONOTOTOUOTOUOTOVOUOUOTOUON

Bill’s Balloon HEscape...... 5

Bill and the QGuerrillas......
Bill’s Border War peieiepedats
Bill’s Mexican Mix-up

Bill and the Gamecock 3
Bill and the Cheyenne Raiders
Bill’’s Whirlwind Finish.
Bill’’s Santa Fe Secret......
Bill and the Taos Terror..
Bills Bracelet of Gold....
Bill and the Border Baron..
Bill at Salt River Ranch...
Bil’s Panhandle Man-hunt.
Bill at Blossom Range.....
Billvand Juniper. JOC. . esc.
BITS BUNA ES COOD cr siecs stata ace
Billi vat Clearwater sacs oi.
Bis Winnin's Hands) 3
Bill’s. Cinch Claim.

Bills Comrades...: Sane
Bill in the Bad Hands...
Bill and the Boy Bugler....
Bill and the Heathen Chinee.
Bill and the Chink War......
Bills Chinese: Chase... .. 2...
Bill’s Secret Message.......

OVvOvol

OU OLOTOTOT OT gE OT OT OVOT OU OT OL OT OUOT OU OT OT

Bill and the Horde of Her- :

Bill’s Lonesome ‘Trail......
Bil BOWL) istaee s oie scscecs Sisk
Bill in Deadwood.

Bill’s First Aid. Aca
Bill and Old Moonlight. By aaevcan ts
Bill Repaid

Billso DATO w Dae ken i sy. ieee s
Bill’s ‘‘Sight Unseen’’.......
Bill’s New Pard.

Bill’s ‘‘Winged Victory”

If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newsdealer, they can be obtained direct

from this office.

Postage-stamps taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY