4 ew oy a ee q D eveted To Issued Weekly. Copyright, 1917, by STREET & SMITH. Far West Life Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by STREET & SMITH, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York. . G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors. Terms to NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY Mail Subscribers. Postage free for United States, Island Possessions, Mexico and Shanghai, China. Foreign Postage, $1.00 a year; Canadian Postage 50 cents a year. Single Copies or Back Numbers, 6c. Each. How to Send Money—By post-office or express money order, regis- tered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. Receipts—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper 3 MONtHS, 60... 2c. 3 75c, |.6 months.......... $1.50 | 2 copies one year.$5.00 change of number on your label. If not corrcet you have not been 4 months....-..... $1.00 |'‘One year. .......-.3.001 1 copy two years. .5.00 properly credited, and should let us know at once. No. 259. August 25, 1917 Price Six Cents, NEW YORK, BUFFALO BILL'S CROW SCOUTS: OR, PAWNEE BILL AND THE ABSAROKES. By the author of ‘‘BUFFALO BILL.” CHAPTER IT. THE TRAIL RIDERS. “Vell, py Shimminy Grismus! Dere iss somepody else ' going along der drail mit horses. I tought I vas. der only feller aroundt. Ach, himmelblitzen! ~~ Can 1 belief my eyes, yas, no? Vone iss a laty! Yah, so helup me, vone oof dose people iss a laty!] Almost you could knock ‘me down mit some feders, dot I see a laty in der Inchun ‘gountry. Vell, vell!” A Dutchman, bestriding a longeared, ornery-appearing -mule, was moving northward along a trail. He was rid- ing out of the southeast. Out of the south, perhaps a quarter of a mile away from him, two other riders could be seen, also headed north. Thesé two were proceeding in single file. Al- though the distance rendered accurate observation impos- sible, yet it was no great trick for the Dutchman to make out that one of the distant riders was a woman. From the south and from the southeast ran a couple of trails. They were bearing toward each other, and would presently unite into the one trail that led on to Fort Ben- ton, on the Upper Missouri. In traversing their sep- -arate trails, the Dutchman and the other two travelers angled rapidly toward each other. The woman’s conipanion, the Dutchman was presently able to discover, was a tall man in buckskins. His face was heavily bearded, and from under his coonskin cap fell a profusion of long, black, stringy hair. From a belt that encircled his thighs sagged a holster with a heavy revolver, and across the withers of his horse lay a long- _ barreled rifle. The man’s horse was a shaggy, mongrel-bred animal, but big and strong, as befitted the steed of such a heavy warrior. It carried no saddle, but a skin of the moun- tain lion for a riding blanket; and thé bridle was of braided rawhide, with a spade bit, big silver conchas under the horse’s ears, and buckskin reins that were knotted ie their length in order to give the hands a firm old. a sort 3 a ae fale oF 4 saa Ss BRB hor: tins So fen Atanas Pn tn oe MP 3 Ml Mn She Me dB ARMM Pat This product of the frontier was evidently a guide. Behind him came the woman, a young woman and pretty. She bore indelibly the stamp of the East, for her clothing was of a fine blue cloth and her skirts constructed for riding astride, man fashion. Back of her saddle cantle were two saddlebags. ‘ She rode a gray horse, and she rode well. These two gave as much curious attention to the Dutch- man as the Dutchman gave to them. When they finally reached the place where the two trails came together, the Dutchman removed his cap, gave it a flourish, and bowed in the lady’s direction. “How you vas?” he bubbled, with a grin that could have been tied behind his ears. “Meppeso you go by Fort Penton, huh?” “Thet’s ther way we're er-goin’, his look rife with frank distrust. “Dot’s me, all der same,” went on the Dutchman. peso ve drafel togedder ?” “Who aire ye?” demanded the man in buckskins. “Dot’s righdt. Indroductions fairst, den ve know more as ve can guess, vich iss pedder for eferypody. I peen der Paron von Schnitzenhauser, mit Villum for der front name, und I haf der bleasure to be der bard oof Puf- falo Bill und Vild Pill und Pawnee Pill und olt Nomat und Leedle Cayuse, oof whom you haf heardt, und mep- peso oof me. Ad your serfice, gentleman und laty!” With that, the baron once more doubled himself over the saddle horn. A. flicker, as of remembrance, ran through the lady’s face; and the man’s countenance cleared of suspicion as though by magic. “The baron! exclaimed the girl, in a flutelike voice that gave the baron a thrill. “Why, 1 have heard about you and about your brave companions.” “Dot iss a habbiness !” smirked the baron. “Hyar, too,’ said the man. “lm Jerson, Newt Jetr- son, from Custer; guide, trapper, an’ scout fer ther mil- ingtary forces in these parts. Ther lady is Miss Mary Holcomb. She's got a brother at pas Cap’n Hol- 92 answered the man, “Mep- NERS) FERRE ee IN nad he Wate NG, Gee i Alihe DAG GSA Os a aa Ls o> enh pee - goot dot ve drafel togedder. 2 2 NEW BUFFALO comb. I’m showin’ her. ther way ter ther Missoury. Nick Nomad is er perticler. friend o ’mine. Him an’ me’s trapped all up an’ down ther Platte.” Put ’er thar, friend!” Newt Jerson reached out.a hamlike fist, and he and the baron greeted each other heartily. “Dere iss Inchuns loose,” said the baron, “und it iss I am filled mit vonders dot a laty has der nerf to drafel bedween Custer und Pen- ton mit der hostile-ret fellers loose in der gountry.” : “Why,” returned the girl, as the journey was resumed, “we heard at Custer that the hostile Sioux had all been put to flight, and that there was tow nothing to be feared. Yout. friends, baron, Buffalo Bill and his comrades, have quelled the rebellion.” “Iss dot so!” rumbled the baron, delighted, “I hatn’t heard. someding aboudt dot.. Aber I bed you someting for nodding dot if repellions iss to be quelled, den my bards iss der fellers to quell it. You see, | come from der Yellowstone, und pefore I reach der Yellowstone I come from avay south in Arizona. I know leedle aboudt vat has peen going on in dis part oof der gountry.” “You haven’t been with yer pards fer some sort of er while, then?” asked Newt Jerson. ! --“It iss a long sort oof a vile, Cherson,” - "Waal, they’ve shore been doin’ things.. Fust off, they capter a white renegade named Blix, an’ next off they lays by ther heels a feller as was called Masta Shella, an- other low-down white as was stirrin’ up. ther reds. ter smake. trouble. Now, we heerd down ter Custer thet thar ain't nothin’ more ter be feared, so me an’ Miss Hol- comb. we started. out. She’s in a hurry ter git ter Ben- TOR re ra “Tl haf took shances meinseluf ven I vas in a hurry to ged some. blaces,” observed the baron. “Your brudder is vanting you, meppe?”.and directed a. look at Miss Hol- combi.) a The young lady blushed rosily. o Yess’ she -replied,.""l am. very anxious. to, see my brother.” es ne eta Newt Jerson looked at the baron and winked with his off eye. The wink was significant, but the baron could not understand the: significance. EEN “Dot iss fine,’ said the baron pleasantly, “ven a feller has- his sisder. come from avay off to see him vere he iss in der Inchun gountry. I don’t got some sisters mein- seluf,” he added glumly, ‘“‘so nopody comes from avay off to see mel = ii “I thort ye allers-trailed along with ther Bills?” said Jerson. It was now the baron’s turn to flush and look uncom- fortable. ‘ret as der sumach in der summertime. “Vonce in a vile,’ he answered, “I take some. foolish streaks und go off py meinseluf.” “Didn’t git mad. at yer pards fer. anythin’, did ye?” in- quired Jerson. ° “Nefer!” cried the baron. “I don’d ged mad at dose fellers:” a By eat HU I a a ces “Then-I opine it was bizness thet kept ye in Arizony?” “¥ah, so, foolish. pitzness.” : The baron jerked a red cotton. handkerchief from his pocket: and mopped: his perspiring face. © ; “A laty vas at der pottom oof it,” went.on the baron. -Jerson chuckled in his hairy throat. . Miss Holcomb turned to cast an amused glance at the embarrassed baron. “She vas peautiful,’ breathed the baron, rolling up his eyes; “ach, so. peautiful.as I can’t tell, mit teet’ like der. jeedle pearls, und eyes like der leedle shtars, und lips so I tink meppe ven I see dot leedle gal dot I vould like to ged marrit and seddie down. Aber I fool avay my time.” “That is too bad!” murmured Miss Holcomb, “It iss vorse as dot, laty,” gloomed the baron.. “Der leedle peach vat I talked aboudt vas a biscuit shooder, aber a laty iss a laty, ad a lunch gounter as vell as in a palace. Nicht wahr?” ase “Always,” returnede Miss Holcomb. . “T’ank you for dose peautiful vords,” dribbled the baron. “I haf peen hurt in my feelings aboudt dot Arizona laty. Meppe I vill. ged ofer it, und meppe nod. Ve shall see vat ve shall see ven der time comes.” : stood English himself, BIEL, WHET TY: “Did—did she die?” asked Miss Holcomb. “Vorse as dot! She marrit der odder feller.” Newt Jerson haw-hawed until he nearly fell off his horse. The baron’s eyes flashed and he reached for a revolver. “No, no!” cried Miss Holcomb, stretching out a re- straining hand; “Mr. Jerson didn’t mean to make fun of you, baron.” ‘Shore not,” said Jerson. “I wouldn't go an’ put up a holler on ercount of er moharrie as, throwed me down. Ye’re drorin’ er purty long face fer sich a piece o’ fol- derol, baron.” “Vell, it’s my folderol, you bed my life,” snapped the baron; “und I don’d led some fellers make foolishness oof it. Dere vill be firevorks more as I can tell oof some- pody tries to make fun.” “Let it go,” grunted Jerson. For a time they rode on in silence. The trail passed through a rocky gully, flanked on each side by rough banks covered with huge bowlders. ' The three riders were close to the middle of the gully when the baron aroused himself from his painful reflec- tions and broke the silence. “It iss alvays my luck,” said he, “to be somevere else ven my bards haf some oxcidement on. Now, I. bed my life, I vill shtick close py dose Pill. fellers all der time, und ged vat iss coming to me. I vill i There came a startling interruption. It was in the nature of a chorus of ear-splitting, demoniacal yells. The baron caught a glimpse of wiry, ‘painted forms flinging themselves into the trail, whooping and shaking many blankets. ay All three of the horses were frightened. Toofer, the baron’s mule, got up on his hind feet, lost his balance, and fell over backward. The baron missed being crushed only by a hair’s breadth. As it was, he was stunned by his fall, and the last thing he heard. was a shriek from the girl and a bellow of rage from Newt Jerson. ‘ ' Then, for a space, night-rolled over the baron. CHAP DER IN THE HANDS OF HOSTILES. The baron was unconscious for only a few minutes. Al- though he was fat and awkward in build, he was; never- theless, as tough as shoe leather. He drifted back to his surroundings and found himself neatly bouad with thongs. A. painted savage was standing over him, arms folded and an exultant glare in his eyes. At the Indian’s side stood a man who was evidently a half-breed. The breed was clad in buckskins, but the cos- tume was topped by a slouch hat. Rau nniintin For a time the baron saw only these two, although he could hear sounds which indicated that there were many more of the red men in the immediate vicinity. “Who you?” asked the half-breed, noticing that the baron had opened his eyes. “I sp’ak de English.” ° “I-peen a bard oof: der king oof sgouts,” flared the baron, realizing that he had been surprised and: taken prisoner. “Puftalo Pill iss my friendt, und oof you know vat. iss. goot for you, den you vill led me go.” The Indian at the half-breed’s side must have under- tood | sh | A_ gleam shot into his eyes, and he said something in the Sioux tongue to the half-breed. The latter answered. The Indian, who was evidently a chief, struck his hands together delightedly. The baron was lying flat on his back, his pinioned wrists under him. He was worried about Toofer, and he rolled over on his side so that he might throw a glance around the gully, He saw the mule. The animal, a little way down the gully, was in the hands of a half-naked Savage. Across the defile was Miss Holcomb. She was sitting on a bowlder, her hands bound at her back and her feet secured at the ankles. Her head was bowed, but she seemed to be too strong-hearted for tears. On either side of her stood a grim warrior, armed with rifle, lance, bow and arrows. Close t6 where the girl sat on the bowlder lay Newt Jerson, flat on the flinty earth as was the baron, and Oe oe a ee likewise securely bound. The guide’s horse and the girl’s were held by more savages, close to the mule. “Py shinks!” muttered the baron. “Eferypody has peen gaptured. Vat a foolish pitzness! Hello, dere, Jerson!” he called. The guide turned his head and looked across at the baron. The girl also lifted her face and stared in his direction. “What’s troublin’ ye?” asked the guide gloomily. “T tought you say dere iss no hosdile Inchuns loose in der gountry,” said the baron. vlts shore a big surprise on me,’ scowled Jerson. “‘I never dreamed o’ anythin’ like this happenin’, An’ so clost ter Benton, too! Ther red whelps hev got their nerve right with em.” “Why dit der Inchuns The baron did not finish the question. At that moment a moccasined foot struck him on the side of his face, turn- ing his head sharply to one side and smothering his words. It was the chief who had kicked him. “Make um quiet,” growled the chief. “Oof I vas loose mit meinseluf,” howled the baron, in a rage, “I bed more as a million tollars you vould see stars und comics und oddepi tings! Vat. as ret flan, J don’d know! I Biff! ‘ Again the moccasined foot smashed against the baron’s ace, pos friend make um keep still!” stormed the chief. Thereupon the baron bottled up his wrath and awaited developments. There seemed to be about a dozen in the chief’s party, all told. Some of these were leading ponies over the crest of the gully’s bank and down into the defile. The baron, obedient to an order. from the chief, was picked up and hustled over to where Jerson was lying. There he was dropped roughly at the guide’s side. The chief and the half-breed were engaged in an ani- mated discussion across the defile from the prisoners. “This hyar’s a knock-out, an’ no mistake,” growled Jerson. “They worked it on us in. er way thet was too easy fet any use, I ain't a-carin’ fet myself, but fer ther gal. What’s goin’ ter happen ter her worries me a heap.” “You made some mistakes ven you tought dere vas no pad Inchuns aroundt,” observed the baron. “Then it’s er mistake " everybody in ther Injun kentry is makin’. They’re positive, at Custer, thet ther hosstyles hev all been run off ter ther Black Hills. Why, ef they hadn’t been shore o’ thet, they’d never hev let ther gal start out.” “Ditn’t some sojers come along, Cherson?” “VJe had an escort fer a ways; but at the end o’ our last march, with Benton only five ‘hours | erway, the escort turned back.” “Too pad, py shinks, for der leedle girl. She must haf vanted to see her brudder a lot to take sooch a rite mit a horse.” “She wants ter see her brother, o’ course,” answered Jerson, “but thar’s some un else she wants ter see, too. It’s a feller by ther name o’ Hollis, an’ he’s a cap’n, same as Miss Holcomb’s brother.” “For vy iss dot?” “She’s engaged ter-marry Cap’n Hollis, an’——” “Ach, du lieber!’’ “An’ this Hollis has been hevin’ a hard time fer some sort of er while. Fust, thar was a killin’ at Custer, an’ et was thort thet Hollis had a hand in it. Jest, the ‘sus- - Picionin’ threw Hollis off’n his mental balance. Yore pards, Buffler Bill an’ the rest of ’em, helped Hollis ter prove his innercence, an’ a spell ago Hollis got back his lost reason. I dunno jest how ther thing happened, but onst more Buffler Bill an’ pards had a hand in et. Miss Holcomb come right on from the East, as soon’s she heard, and when she got ter Custer she was told thet her brother an’ Hollis was at Benton. Nothin’ must do but she had ter pull right out, an’ the kunnel allowed that I was ther ombray ter see her through. Hyar’s ther way I done it,” and Jerson said hard things to himself. oe a Me Og ay, y ined ra an pn Sia SA a NEW BUFFALO a ag Peale A Bee Bg Pn ie MB Pe Mot RI. By Paste MoM Draenei se Bie Bi WEERLY - 3 “Some t’ings I don’d vas aple to onderstandt,” said the baron. “What's thet?’ “For vy do der Inchuns make us bris’ners?” “It’s onusual, an’ thet’s er fact,” said Jerson, a puz- zled look crossing his face. ‘‘As a ginral thing, these hyar Sioux don’t go ter so much trouble. Ther quickest way, with them, is the one they ginrally use—a bullet, an’ then a scalpin’ knife. I ain’t a notion why they've took us pris’ners. They might hev took ther gal a pris’ner, but it ain’t like ’em ter fool thet a way with you an’ me.” “Dey haf somet’ing on deir mindt,’ declared the baron, watching the discussion between the chief and the half- breed. “Shore thar is,’ continued Jerson; “thar’s a heap 0’ deviltry on their minds. I got er idee thet half-breed is back o’ it. I hates breeds wuss’n ther smallpox. This hyar breed is Talk-a-heap, an’ he’s the wust case 0’ schemer ye ever heerd tell erbout. He useter hang eround Custer, tryin’ ter hire out fer a scout, but they wouldn’t hev nothin’ ter do with him. Why, he was at Custer not more’n two days ergo. I'll bet a bundle o’ pelts he heerd, while he was thar, thet I was startin’ fer Benton with ther gal, an’ thet he hiked inter the hills, | met these hosstyles, an’ put it up with ’em ter lay fer us.’ ON yi vas dot ee “Ask me somethin’ easy.” ‘Do you know der ret feller vat der preed is making: some palavers mit?” “He’s er Sioux war chief, but his trail an’ mine ain’t never crossed afore. Hesh up fer a spell. Talk-a-heap is moseyin’ thiserway.” The half-breed came over to the prisoners, his villainous face full of triumph and exultation. Halting between the two prisoners on the ground, he lowered his little, pig- like eyes and passed his glance from one to the other, and lastly to the forlorn figure of the girl on the bowlder. “You savvy me,. Jerson, huh?” growled Talk-a-heap. “Yas, blast yore measly hide,’ answered the guide, “I Savvy you, all right.” “You Savvy | I was brav’ mans, huh ¢ Ae “IT savvy yere a sneakin’ coyote.” i “Gal, she go to Benton, all same find Cap Hollis, “he “Thet’s what. Now, ye schemin’ half- toed! Cap Hol- lis’ll come huntin’ you. When he finds ye, ye "ll be up more kinds of er stump than I kin mention.” ao was brav’ mans,” and Talk-a-heap thumped his chest, “an’ I no let Cap Hollis find me, or find de gal. Bumby, mebbeso, we give up de gal, give up you an’ odder man, if white chief at Benton do de right t’ing.” “What’s the right thing?” “Let Masta Shella go. You savvy Masta Shella?” “Shore I savvy him.” The half-breed turned on his heel and walked over to the girl. He talked to her for a few minutes. Neither the baron nor the guide could hear what passed between the two, but they presently saw Talk-a-heap draw a pencil and a scrap of soiled paper from his pocket. _ The girl’s hands were freed, and pencil and paper were placed in her fingers. Laying the paper on the top of the bowlder, she began to write, Talk-a-heap evidently dictat- ing. When the writing was done, Talk-a-heap took the paper and spelled over the written words. Evidently he was satisfied, for, after ordering one of the warriors to re- place the bonds on the girl’s wrists, he hurried back to the chief. The chief also seemed pleased with what was read to him from the paper. He waved his hand toward a horse. Talk-a-heap, snatching a bow and arrow from one of the Indians, hurried -to the horse, flung himself onto the animal’s back, and vanished at speed up the gully. “Dot iss a peguliar pitzness,” mused the baron. He had no chance to talk about it with Jerson, how- ever, for the Indians came, just then, and lifted him and the guide to the backs of their mounts. They were tied to their animals, and the girl was treated in the same way; then, each captive’s horse in tow of a warrior, the party of hostiles rode up the gully bank, over it, and down the slope on the farther side. ® og | _ ‘NEW BUFFALO CHAPTER III. THE, MYSTERIOUS ARROW “If Wild Bill, Nomad, and Cayuse get back this after- noon or to-night, captain, we'll take that morning boat down the river.” Buffalo Bill, leaning back in an easy-chair on a shady porch of Officers’ Row, Fort Benton, paused to knock the ashes from his cigar as he made the foregoing remark to Captain Holcomb. “You can’t tell much about these down-river boats, Cody,” returned Holcomb. “It may. leave in the morning, and it may not leave for several mornings. I hope there's a delay, for I have an object in view in wanting you to remain at the post for a few days longer.” “It’s generally admitted that the Sioux have cleared out, and that there’s nothing but peace for this part of the country. What business have I got that keeps me here? My orders are to report to Fort Meade as soon as I can conveniently do so.” “I’m not wanting you to stay because I think the In- dians are going to make any more trouble” “You don’t need .my evidence to convict Shella,’”’* “Not at all,” answered Holcomb; “that yellow-haired scoundrel was caught red-handed, and his conviction is certain without any one appearing against him. -He 1s safely confined in the guardhouse, and when he leaves it, it will be to go to his doom. No, it won’t be necessary for you to remain around here to testify against this Masta Shella.” j “I’m getting curious,’ laughed the scout. “What’s in the air, Holcomb?” “A wedding,” answered the captain, leaning toward the scout and dropping his voice. “It’s a secret, so don’t breathe a word. There’s going to be a wedding, here at Benton, and the affair won't go off right if you and your pards are not on hand.” “Whose. wedding, Masta “Great Scott!’ muttered the scout. Holcomb? Not yours, surely?’ Holcomb grinned and shook his head. “Not mine; of course not. Captain Hollis’.” “Captain Hollis is going to be married?” “He is, and he doesn’t know it. We're keeping the whole affair a secret from him. The poor old chap has been through so much that we're trying to give him a joyful surprise. Mary was eager to come on from Omaha, and when I wrote and told her that Hollis had recovered his reason, a message came over the military wire that she was starting. That’s the way Mary does things. I don’t know whether she’s coming to Fort Custer or to Fort Benton. The boat that got in from below, however, didn’t bring her, so I presume she went to Custer. For all I know, she’s there now. They won’t lose much time in sending her on here, however.” Holcomb and his friend Hollis were stationed at Fort Custer. Just now they were on detached duty at Fort Benton. It was but natural, therefore, that Miss Hol- comb should have planned to go first to Custer, thinking that her brother and Hollis had returned to that post. “This is news!” muttered the scout. “As I said,” returned the captain, “Hollis doesn’t know the first thing about it. He’s now at the cantonment at the mouth of the Musselshell, but he’ll be called in as soon as Mary arrives. You know something about the affair between Mary and Hollis?” “Tye heard they were engaged—that they were engaged long before that disastrous affair at Custer, when circum- stances seemed to indicate that Hollis had shot Lieutenant Eldridge.” “That is correct. Mary and Hollis have known each other ever since they were children, and it seemed very fitting that they should fall in love with each other. They were sweethearts when Hollis and I were at West Point together, and they became engaged right after Hollis graduated, at the head of his class. Circumstances, how- ever, made it necessary for the marriage to be put off year after year. Then, when a certain June had been settled upon, that Eldridge affair happened. In the fast *See Naw BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY, No. 258, “Buffalo Bill on the Upper Missouri; or, Pawnee Bill's Pick-up.” mm BILL WEEKLY. letter Mary received from Hollis—a letter written from the Fort Custer guardhouse—he told her that. she must wait until he cleared his name, and that he could never ask her. to marry him while such a crite was hanging “over his head.” “Hollis, of course,’ commented the scout, “did exactly the right thing.” “It was the only thing he could do,” declared Hol- comb. “Mary, however, believed in him. She declared he was innocent, and that she was ready to marry him and then help him prove his innocence. Of course, Cody, I couldn’t allow that.” “Of course not.” “You know the condition Hollis was in when he came to the post after masquerading as a tramp all through the Northwest. He was an officer and a gentleman, and he had high ideals. The suspicion that he was accountable for the taking off of Eldridge had undermined his rea- son. His innocence was proved, but Hollis was not him- self. His brain had given way under the terrible blow that had been struck at him by that scoundrel Blix.” The scout nodded. “He was mildly insane, Holcomb,” said he. “T could not allow the marriage to go on while Hol- lis was in that condition, could 1?” HINT Oe? “But after you found Hollis floating down river on that tree trunk—after that remarkable event which re- sulted in restoring Hollis’ reason to him—there remained no bar. I was anxious, then, that the marriage should occur as soon as possible, so I wrote Mary, and she’s on the way.” “Hollis,” observed Buffalo Bill, “is a fine fellow—one of the finest fellows I’ve ever met in the army. I should like to be here at the wedding, but ‘that may not come off for a month yet.. My orders to report at Meade leave me little choice.” a “Where are your pards?” “Pawnee Bill is here, at the post. Wild Bill, Nomad, and Cayuse are at the cantonment at the mouth of the Musselshell. They ought to be back to-night, at latest.” “And if they come, and the boat leaves before Mary gets here, you'll have to pull out for Meade?” “I’m atraid so, captain.” : “It will be a big disappointment to all of us—and to Mary herself as much as to any one else. I wrote ae about what you and your pards had done for Hol- zSt “This isn’t the first time that duty has robbed me of a pleasure, Holcomb,” returned the scout. ‘I understand your position, Cody,” said Holcomb re- gretfully, “and, of course, I can’t urge you.” “If we have to leave before the wedding, I want you a explain the circumstances to your sister and to Hol- is. “Vi do. that.” The captain sat back in his chair and smoked thought- fully. The afternoon sun trailed over the low barracks across the parade ground, and touched with golden glory ee that drooped listlessly from the top of the flag- staff. It was a drowsy afternoon, and the post was unusually quiet. Some of the officers’ families were on the other porches, and the muffled shouts of children at play came peacefully to the ears of the scout and the captain. pt begins to look like useless work,’ remarked Hol- comb, stirring at last, “this building of cantonments along the Missouri. The uprising has been stamped out. We are in for an era of peace.” The scout frowned. _ “I have a hunch, Holcomb,” said he, “that something is yet due to happen before the hostiles are finally cowed and sent back where they belong.” ‘What can happen? You and your pards have cap- tured the men who were keeping the roving Sioux stirre up. With those two white renegades out of the way, can't for the life of me see where further trouble is com- ing from.” “Masta Shella, at the time he was captured, had a hun- dred Sioux warriors at his back.” _ there weren’t quite so many when we got through with the bucks at that wagon train!” OM ‘om ust ver ee ing red im dy, d, 1€ ” V7 14 u a tos WM 3 vs NEW, BUFFALO “No, not quite so many, but stil! enough to cause trouble if the reds happened to be so inclined.” “Don’t forget the circumstances, Cody, that caused the Sioux to raise the siege of the wagon train! The war- riors found that Masta’ Shella had deceived them—Masta Shella, the yellow-haired white renegade, and Broken Arrow, their own medicine man. Why, they killed Broken Arrow with their own hands, and they'd have killed pee Shella, too, if we hadn't made a prisoner of im “No doubt.” “Then how can you think that the rest of that Sioux war party would be inclined to keep up their useless hostilities ?” “Yellow Horse is the war chief of the Sioux.” “There is another buck named Yellow Horse, who is war chief of the Crows.” - exactly. I don’t know whether the Sioux chief has borrowed the Crow chief’s name, or whether the name is simply a happenchance. Anyhow, this Sioux chief is a fighter. I have an idea that he may be figuring on raids and pillage before he takes his way back to the Pah- sap-pah country.” “T don’t think so, and neither does any one else in au- thority here.” “You and all the others may be right; still, I must say ~ that I never have a hunch like this that doesn’t mean some- thing, J——’ The scout paused abruptly. The pronoun, even as it was on his lips, glided into a thud as something struck a porch post close to his head. He whirled around in his chair. The next moment he discovered that the object was an Indian arrow, ee and winged with feathers. -Tied to the feathered haft was a serap of white. : “Blazes!” cried the amazed Holcomb, leaping to his Cet The scout also had gained his feet. With a jump he had cleared the porch steps and was on the run across the parade ground. The slant of the arrow, as it had reached the post, was guiding him. ae was off to look for the one who had loosed the shaft. CHAPTER IV.. THE MESSAGE. The scout’s first thought was to the effect that the arrow had been launched at him. Naturally, therefore, he ‘wanted to find the skulking Indian who had let the bolt fly. The arrow—judging by the angle at which it had em- bedded its head into the post—had come from the end of the barracks, between the soldiers’ quarters and the stables. As the scout flung out of the incldsure between the barracks and the stables, Pawnee Bill tan through one of the stable doors. “What's doing, necarnis?” he called. The mere fact that the scout was at a run assured the bowie man that something unusual was happening. “Come on, Pawnee!” Buffalo Bill called over his shoul- der. Pawnee Bill raced off and came alongside of his bard just after the sentry had been passed. The scout had stopped beside a thicket. There a little damp earth had held the print of a moccasin. “Injuns!” muttered the prince of the bowie. “Looks like a Sioux moccasin,” said the scout. “Shades of Unk-te-hee, but you’re right! What can a stray Sioux have been doing around here?” The scout did not pause for reply, but leaped into the thicket. He emerged again, a motment later, and traced off through more chaparral, down a slope, and into scarred timber that fringed the river’s edge. Then he paused once ‘more. “Pony tracks!” exclaimed the bowie man. “The red has got away, Pawnee,” answered the scout. “He left his pony here, sneaked up the hill and into that clump of brush, then turned loose an arrow. He had a strong hand for the bowstring! Why, that arrow flew across the parade ground and struck a post of Officers’ Row, not more than a foot from where I was sitting.” BILL WEEKLY. DI A BIN 5 ify Be “Tt was intended for you?” “That’s what I thought when I made a run in this direc- tion. Come to think of it, though, it seems queer that the archer didn’t make a better shot—if the arrow had. really been intended for me. The fellow who released that arrow certainly knew how to use a bow.” “It looks to me, necarnis,” observed Pawnee Bill, after a few moments’ thought, “as though the skulking red was really trying to pick you off. It was an attempt to play even for what you did to Masta Shella. We can climb nen eMadas horses and run out this trail. What do you “Not worth while, Pawnee. I don’t want to tangle up with any more of these redskin games on the Upper Missouri. We have orders to report at Fort Meade, and all we’re waiting for is the arrival of our pards from the cantonment and the departure of the General Cook for down river. Let’s go back to Holcomb. I saw some- thing white tied to that arrow, and I’ve a curiosity to learn what it is.” “Something white?” echoed Pawnee Bill, striding along at his pard’s side. “Tt may have been my imagination,” answered the scout, “for I didn’t waste much time looking at the thing. All I was thinking of was getting hands on the fellow that let the arrow fly.” When they had crossed the parade ground, they found Holcomb standing on the porch, the arrow at his feet and a crumpled paper. unfolded in his hand. ‘There was a look of fear and amazement on the captain’s face as he lifted his eyes to the pards. “What's the matter, Holcomb?” demanded the scout. The captain tried to talk, but words failed him. Sink- ing limply into his chair, he drew a trembling hand across his forehead. “Buck up, Holcomb!” cried the scout. “Something has happened. Tell us what it is.” ““Mary—she’s—she’s in the hands of the hostile Sioux!” the captain finally managed to blurt out. “How can that be?” “This note “Where did it come from?” “Tt was tied to the arrow!” “Don’t fret,’ admonished the bowie man. “The note may be a lie. Read it, necarnis,” he added to the scout. Buffalo Bill had taken the note from the captain’s nerveless fingers. Ee as written in lead pencil,’ said the scout, “and is none too plain.” Then he read aloud: “*To THE COMMANDANT AT Fort Hanean: I was com- ing from Fort Custer to Fort Benton, with a guide named Newt Jerson. Where the trail from the Yellowstone comes into the Custer, Trail, we met the baron, one of Buffalo Bill’s friends. In a gully, an hour later, we were set upon and captured by a dozen Sioux, led by Yellow Horse. I am writing this at the dictation of Talk-a- heap, a half-breed who is with Yellow Horse and his braves. Talk-a-heap says that we are all three to be killed unless Masta Shella is released and, sent to the foot of Cheyenne Hill by noon, to-morrow. My love to my brother and Captain Hollis. Mary Hotcoms.’’ The captain groaned as the scout finished reading the note. “What was Miss Holcomb doing, crossing the Indian country at such a time?” queried the bowie man. “It can’t be possible that she was on the way to Benton with only one guide and no escort.” “It is not only possible, but probable,’ said Holcomb. “T know she has been captured by those murderous red scoundrels.” “As I said before, that note may be a lie.” “Tt can’t be a lie. The note was written by my sister. ere sae her handwriting, and there can’t be any mis- take “But she was coming with only the one guide—— “The country between here and Custer is supposed to be clear of hostile Indians. It is a mistake we all have made—all of us except Cody. “He seemed to understand the situation better than any of us. This is a blow! I wonder if those red devils really mean what they say?” 39 vrei taitn tire Predict Barre tne Mant di ie aah oe lt A a ap Ar pee 6 NEW BUFFALO The scout was thoughtful for a space. : “Vellow Horse is having some one else to do his plot- ting for him,” said he finally. “This half-breed, Talk-a- heap, is the one. I never saw a breed yet who couldn't give a full blood cards and spades when it comes to hatching up deviltry. It’s Talk-a-heap who’s behind all this.” “That doesn’t make it much better for Mary,’ tered Holcomb. : ‘ “I tell you what makes it look better for your sis- ter, Holcomb,” went on the scout encouragingly, “and that is that Talk-a-heap and Yellow Horse are trying to secure the freedom of Masta Shella. They’re holding the three prisoners as hostages. Between now and noon to-mor- row your sister and the other two captives will be safe enough.” “But Masta Shella won’t be released on any such demand as that!” exclaimed Captain Holcomb. “I couldn't ask Colonel Weatherby to do such a thing. The release - of Masta Shella would set the whole Indian country by the ears again.” “Of course, captain, Weatherby wouldn’t release Masta Shella.” “Then what can be done for my sister?” cried Hol- comb, in a burst of despair and grief. “We could ride to Cheyenne Hill with a force of troopers,” said Pawnee Bill. “The Sioux wouldn’t show themselves. They'll be watching from some place near at hand. When they see the troopers, they’ll know that we do not intend to listen to their demands, and that Masta Shella is not to be set free. What would happen to the prisoners then?” The pards, no less than the captain, knew exactly what would happen. It was too ugly an alternative to con- template. “It gets me, necarnis,” went on Pawnee Bill, “why these Sioux bucks are so anxious to have Masta Shella turned over to them. Even to the Sioux he’s a dis- credited leader. His game was given-away when Hol- comb’s wagon train was besieged, and Broken Arrow, who helped play the game, was killed. Why do the reds want Masta Shella? Why do they want him so much that they’re willing to trade three prisoners for him?” “Give it up,” answered the scout; “but we have to take this note just as it comes to us. Holcomb says he’s sure it was written by his sister. That proves beyond all doubt that Miss Holcomb is in the hands of the Yellow Horse outfit.” . “Be gure of that,’ declared Holcomb, lifting his hag- gard face. “Mary wrote that note, and some buck stole in close to the post and shot the note at us on an arrow. Mary is a captive. This is a different surprise for Hol- lis than the one I had intended for him!” “Hollis is at the cantonment, Holcomb, and he doesn’t need to know anything about this until we rescue your sister.” Holcomb again started to his feet. “You mean, Cody,” he said eagerly, “that you will stay here and help? -You will take charge and do what you can? You won’t leave for Meade as soon as you had in- tended to——” “Vou don’t think for a moment that I would leave matters at Benton in such shape, do you?” returned Buf- falo Bill. “But you said——” “I said that my orders summoned me to Meade as soon as | had finished my work here. Now that this has happened, I do not consider my work finished, not by a long shot. If your sister, alone, was in the hands of the Sioux, I should stay just as quick as though my pard, the baron, was not also in their hands.” “An-pe-tu-we!” put in the bowie man. “Where in Sam Hill did the baron manage to get mixed in this? I thougut he was still in Arizona.” “So did J,” returned the scout, “but you never can tell much about the baron. He has a very nimble fancy, and he follows it wherever it chances to lead him. He’s with Miss Holcomb and Jerson. I’m ready to believe that the > mut- note written by Miss Holcomb states the truth, even though it was dictated by Talk-a-heap.” “What are you going to do, Buffalo Bill?” queried the BILL WEEKLY. captain. “Don’t depend on me for any planning. I’m dazed, and ean hardly think.” “Tlf attend to the planning, Holcomb?” Buffalo Bil! turned to the bowie man. “Pawnee,’ he added, “five Crow scouts came in yesterday. Are they still at the post?” “They were here an hour ago,” the bowie man an- swered. “Tell them Pa-e-has-ka wants to see them.” Pawnee Bill hurried down the steps and off across the parade ground. CHAPTER V. BUFFALO BILL’S PLAN. The five Crow scouts were warriors belonging to Um- bas-a-hoos’ band. They had come up from the Little Big Horn in order to help the white men make war on their traditional enemies, the Cutthroats (Sioux). The sudden quelling of the uprising had left nothing for the red scouts to do, and they had been ordered back to Custer. But they loved to sit in the sun at Benton, smoke army tobacco, and play the Indian game of “hand.” They had left, when ordered to do so, but they had come back. Again they had been ordered to go, but could not tear themselves away. Pawnee Bill presently returned with them, five strap- ping bucks, stepping high and toeing in as they came along the walk and up the steps to the porch. The scout looked them over sharply. Stolidly . they underwent the scrutiny. They were pleased that Pa-e- has-ka should have sent for them, but there was no pleasure reflected in their gaunt, sphinxlike faces. They had grunted out the usual “How!” and were now calmly waiting. Buffalo Bill presently opened up with the hand talk. “You want to go out after the Sioux?” he asked. Instantly every brave pulled himself a little straighter, and something like interest ran pulsing through his leathery face. Each one nodded. “You want to go with Pa-e-has-ka?” went on the scout. “Ai!” came the prompt response. “Tf Pa-e-has-ka tells you to go with Kulux Kittybux, Mee do as he tells you to do?” i > Kulux Kittybux was Pawnee Bill. _ “Then have your ponies ready before next sleep is fin- Ished( Thar's! ath’ The Crows did not leave. They still remained. Mebbeso we git feefty dollar?” remarked Nahkee. _, The scout pulled a buckskin bag from his pocket. The jingle of the bag brought the first sign of real feeling in the copper-colored faces. _From the bag the scout took five twenty-dollar geld pieces and gave one of the yellow boys to each of the Indians. “Him only twenty dollar,” demurred Nahkee. ‘Him all same fifty dollar when you do the work. Twenty dollar now, thirty dollar more, by and by.” “Ugh!” grunted Nahkee. The grunt was taken up and repeated by Spotted Wolf, Snake That Strikes, Thunder Cloud, and Crooked Foot. In single file they descended the porch steps and made ae way back to the place where Pawnee Bill had found lem. “Nahkee will have it all in less than two hours,” observed the bowie man; “he’s a shark at this hand game. “That will make the lot of them all the more anxious for the rest of their money, Pawnee,” returned the scout. We can depend on them, all right.” What’s the game? You said they were to be under my charge, necarnis.” Their game is to scout around the vicinity of ‘Chey- enne Hill. I want you to start for the place before day- light, Pawnee. See that they are well armed. I think the colonel will let us have five army rifles and plenty of ammunition for all five of them.” | Vl see to that,” spoke up Holcomb. they don’t locate the Sioux? And, even if they do locate Yellow Horse and his outfit, what can the five of them “But suppose Ste we UAT fy Tm Bill ‘five the an- the tn ttle “he the my ad ok alr [Ds ne uN eo Re perhaps fifty—in that outfit.” finger. diagram on the porch floor, ‘the scout. . Talk-a-heap. NEW do against the Sioux war party? “The Crows,” explained the scout, “are to locate the Sioux and the prisoners. They are not to fight them. We want to get the prisoners away from the war party without i injuring Miss Holcomb. If there was. shoot- ing The scout paused. “we'll get down to the Every night I’ve stayed at Benton, “Pawnee and I have had a room that looks like a junk shop. There are all sorts of costumes hanging up in that room, and all sorts of false whiskers and wigs.’ “They have private theatricals here during the winter,” explained Holcomb, “and masquerade balls and all enat. You and Pawnee are bunked in the storeroom.” “T made'a guess that explained the matter,’ said the scout. “Among the wigs, I saw one of long, yellow hair, just the shade “of Masta ‘Shella’s hair.” “Aht?’> murmured the ‘captain. “I’m beginning to un- -derstand.. You, Cody, are planning to rig yourself out as Masta Shella.” “Keno.” “You're going to ride to certain death, to-morrow, in the attempt to save my sister. I won’t have it.” - The scout laughed softly. “Wrong!” said he. “I’m not going to commit suicide, Holcomb, but fool the Sioux war party.” “What will happen to you when Yellow Horse and. his gang of red‘ cutthroats come close enough to you to dis- cover that you are not Masta Shella?” “In the first place,” expounded the scout, “‘not all the gang will come-to me at. the foot of the hill. Yellow Horse will-come, I feel sure, and probably this half-breed, There may. be a few more, but not enough to do me any particular damage.” ae “You'll be at the mercy of all the bucks who do come wn——” “No. If they-try to do anything, I'll be doing some- BUFFALO: BILL ae There are a dozen—. ~ cn aN Mai tite Nh Mn Mn Shao Moai Artin Bo “WEERLY. ” thing, too. Besides, Pawnee Bill and the Absarokes will be watching, under cover. If any of my pards get in from the cantonment before Pawnee starts. out with his Crows, they'll ride with the scouting party.” “Why not let me go along with a detachment: of troopers?” asked Holcomb. “A trooper is a good fighter, but he’s a poor scotit. We've got to keep the movements of the scouts a secret from the Sioux. The hostile reds must not suspect that we are framing up a deal against them.” . “T understand that, but five Crows with Pawnee will be too-small a force.” “Our principal strength will lie in our: mobility—our ability to move swiftly from point to point and. strike before the teds know what we're up to. The troopers are not fleet enough. A small force that can be rapidly controlled is far and away more effective, in this case, than a Jarger force of white men; that must get around slowly.” “There’s something in that.” “There’s everything in it.” “But I want to do something,” fretted. Holcomb. “I don’t want to stay at the post, cooling my heels, while you and Pawnee Bill and these Crows are doing all: the work.” “Of course you don’t, and ve planned for you to- take a hand in the game. To-morrow noon, Holcomb, take a picked force of twelve men and shack along toward Cheyenne Hill. What happens at noon will. pretty near tell the tale, so far as my. plans are concerned. . If we succeed, you'll probably see us hiking for Benton with the three prisoners. There’s a chance that we may be more than glad to have you’ cover the retreat.” “Til be ready to do that, never fear. “Depend on me.’ The scout again turned. to the prince of the. bowie. Para: said he, “don’t show yourself, or let any-of the Crows show themselves, to-morrow noon, until you see my right: hand lifted.” “Correct,” said Pawnee: Bill. “T don’t know myself: just what will happen at Chey- enne Hill, so. 1 can’t state exactly what I’m going to do. If you, or any of the Crows, see me on-the way to the hill; dont try:to ‘cross: my trail. -Let *me.-go on... It . wouldn’t do to have any Sioux scouts. see me tall king with you or with any of the ‘Crow scouts: “IT savvy the burro, necarnis,’ said Pawnee Bill. “Then. you might go with ‘Holcomb and explain the situation to Colonel Weatherby.” The captain, greatly heartened by the scout’s calm -con- | fidence, left the porch with Pawnee Bill. - Together they / made. their way across the:parade ground to the colonel’s office. Buffalo Bill resumed his chair and lighted another cigar. - CHAPTER VI. CHEYENNE HILL, Cheyenne Hill, the place. set. by Talk-a-heap for the meeting of the Sioux with the released Masta Shella, was’ ‘some twelve miles up: the river from Benton. Pawnee Bill and his Absaroke scouts got away. in the early hours of. the morning. They -took with them the scout’s war horse Bear Paw. The big black, if the scout had ridden the animal while posing as Masta Shella, would have aroused the sus- picions of the Sioux plotters, for the war horse was al- most as well known to them as was the scout himself. None of the scout’s other pards arrived from the can- tonment on the Musselshell, so they. could not ride with the prince of the bowie and the Absarokes. © The scout was sorry for this, as he would have been more than pleased to have had the masterful Wild Bill, the redoubt- able old Nomad, and the clever Little Cayuse in the scout- ing party. However, Pawnee Bill was capable of manag- ing everything—he had forgotten more about such work than. most frontiersmen ever knew—and the scout relied upon him implicitly. ay detail of the plan was carefully followed out. And the details reached farther than. the scout had out- lined in his talk with Holcomb and Pawnee on the porch in Officers’ Row. msn ache chen ont Mel Med Hn Ste ih rate stat Siete Sgn Pall ia te rf NEW BUFFALO Sioux scouts might be watching everything that took place at the post, and it was necessary for Buffalo Bill to proceed with exceeding care. a At eight o’clock in the morning, an Indian cayuse, with a braided bridie and only a saddle blanket girded to his back, was led to the door of the guardhouse by a trooper. Holcomb, with a small detail of men, ap- proached the guardhouse, a few minutes later, and went inside. Buffalo Bill, in the room with Masta Shella, was pre- paring himself for his risky venture. ; ._He was not particular to copy Masta Shella’s cloth- ing—he could have purloined the prisoner’s clothes if he had wanted to do that—but he was exceedingly particular about the wig with the long, yellow hair. This he had adjusted carefully, allowing the yellow hair to fall down over his own flowing locks. He wore his own hat, pulled over his own coat a sol- dier’s blouse, and incased. his nether limbs in copper- riveted overalls, the bottoms of which he tucked into his boot tops. His belt, with one of his revolvers hanging in his holster, he had sent away with Bear Paw. The other revolver was thrust into the front of the overalls. He wanted it to appear to the Sioux as though he had been cast adrift from the post unarmed, and on a scrub cayuse, as would have been the case had Masta Shella been freed. “What the blazes you tryin’ ter do?” demanded Masta Shella, the prisoner, rattling his chains as he turned to size up the scout. ‘“Making myself an understudy for you,’ replied the scout. “What fer?” : “If you don’t know, you can’t tell anybody.” Masta Shella grunted and settled himself back on his bench. “How do I stack up, Holcomb?” demanded the scout. ' “From the back, with all that yellow hair,” the captain answered, “you’re a dead ringer for Masta Shella. But from the front—well, at half a dozen yards, any one who - knows Cody -could tell him without a second look.” “Tf. Yellow Horse-or Falk-a-heap comes that close to me,” laughed the scout, “Ill not give him a chance to take a second look. Is the horse outside?” Vest ee “The horse I picked out last night?” ae same; and I must say he’s a mangy-looking little rute.”’ _“There’s botton in him, in spite of his looks. A Roman- nosed cayuse is always a hundred per cent better than you'd size him up from his general appearance.” The door of the guardhouse was flung open, just then, and Colonel Weatherby strode in. He was a small man, but he was a mighty warrior, and his name was one to conjure with in that part of the country. “Pve been thinking. this over, Cody,” said he, “and I must say I don’t like it.” “What is there about it, colonel, that you don’t like?” asked the scout. “Why, the danger you’re running into.” “Danger? What’s that?” and the scout laughed. “It’s like this,” persisted the colonel: “Suppose you slip a cog over there at Cheyenne Hill? Suppose——” “But 1 won't.” “You say yourself that you don’t know exactly what -yowll do until you see what happens at the hill.” “That’s correct. I’m not a mind reader, colonel, and I’m not gifted with second sight. Circumstances alter cases.” “Suppose you’re floored with a bullet——” “Don’t suppose anything so improbable.” “Well, if you won't listen to that, suppose you your- self drop into the hands of the reds? If Talk-a-heap, the wily. scoundrel, should get hold of you, there’d be nothing left for me to do but to turn loose this Masta Shella.” “What good would that do, colonel? You don’t think for a minute that Talk-a-heap and Yellow Horse would let me’ go simply because you had released Masta Shella? _And, in spite of that note that was flung into camp on the arrow, you know as well as I do that Yellow Horse and Talk-a-heap never intended to release my Dutch pard, BILL WEEREY: Miss Holcomb, and Newt Jerson, even if Masta Shella (owas cast adit. “No red will let go his hold on a white prisoner if he can help it.” oo " “Then we've got to fight this thing through as I have planned it; there’s no other way.” a The colonel chewed on an unlighted cigar. “If anything happens to you,” he growled, “T’ll have a nice report to send in!” “Something will happen to me, but it won’t be at all serious. All ready, captain?” “All ready, Buffalo Bill,’ answered Holcomb. “Then yank me out of this military yamen and throw me onto the cayuse.” Masta Shella watched the play with popping eyes. He couldn’t understand it, down to the fine points, but he had overheard enough to give him an inkling of the scout’s real purpose. Buffalo Bill was hustled out of the guardhouse by the men with Holcomb. Just outside the door he was covered with soldier guns and ordered to mount the horse. After he had obeyed, the horse was led through the stockade gate and pointed up river. “Scat!” cried the men with the leveled guns. “Get out of here!” roared the captain.’ “If we see any- thing of you inside of two minutes, we'll shoot!” Feigning terror, the scout dug in with his heels, and the Roman-nosed cayuse bounded for the dim trail that led up the river in the direction of Cheyenne Hitl. He was out of sight in one minute, and he looked fear- fully backward as a screen of brush hid him from the hill and the post. Nothing had been seen or heard of Wild Bill, Nomad, and Little Cayuse up to the time the scout had left. If they came in later, they. were to accompany the captain and his picked squad, and by no means to try to go on to Cheyenne Hill on their own hook. “Those missing pards of mine,” thought Buffalo Bill, as he rode, “will be badly cut up when they learn what they have missed. I should have liked to have them along, but when you can’t have what. you want, you must do the best with what you have.’. par It was a lonesome trail the scout rode. The cayuse was a pounder, and every time his hoofs came down there was no spring of the muscles or of the knees. It was like a gallop on a saw horse. Stirrups would have enabled the scout to ease the jolt somewhat, but there were no stir- rups. The dim trail led through scanty timber, and occasion- ally cleared the timber and debouched through the open country. He figured that it was eleven o’clock when he first glimpsed the bare crest of Cheyenne Hill, looming up ahead of him and to the left, He drew to slower pace, for he had plenty of time at his disposal. What had Pawnee Bill and the Absarokes accomplished? he was asking himself. In the end the succéss of that day’s work might depend upon the work the prince of the bowie and his red aids had performed. Turning suddenly from the blind trail, the scout pointed the cayuse for the north slope of the hill. He saw no one, neither Sioux, Crow, nor white man. He knew he should see none of the Crows, nor Pawnee Bill, for his instructions had carefully covered that point, but he had had a fear that some Sioux warrior might meet him on the trail and try to ride with him. Such a move would have spelled discovery and disaster. However, as before stated, he encountered no one, white or red. | ; On leaving the brush and the timber, he set an angling course. To the right of the hill’s north slope he ob- served, with satisfaction, a screen of alders and other undergrowth. Somewhere, in that line of brush, he felt _ sure that Pawnee Bill and his Absarokes were waiting —waiting for the moment when he should raise his arm and summon them to his aid. Ten minutes after leaving the timber, he was halted at the north foot of the hill. oe Now, reds,” he muttered, peering around, “play your hand. It’s noon, and you're to suppose that Masta Shella is on deck and—— Ah!” he broke. off suddenly, as a horse and rider appeared around a small spur that jutte out on the hill’s western side, “here’s some one. What! Only one? This is luck. It’s the breed, Talk-a-heap, if ’'m any judge of\mongrels.” Pretending not to see the approaching half-breed, the scout turned his horse and looked in an opposite direc- tion. This placed his back toward the half-breed; and his back, as Holcomb had informed him, looked identically like the back of the real Masta Shella. ~The thump of hoofs came close at a gallop. Still the scout did not turn. ' “Masta Shella!” called a voice. The half-breed was almost at the scout’s side. He whirled to an about face, then, and things began to hap- pen. CHAPTER Vik. TAKING A PRISONER. A quick glance at the spur did not reveal to the scout the presence of any Sioux who might have been waiting for Talk-a-heap to transact his business and return with the supposed Masta Shella. This was a pleasing discovery, and the scout’s purpose, suddenly formed, needed not to be changed. He would lay Talk-a-heap by the heels and meke off with him. The half-breed, about to use his tongue and make good his right to his name, suddenly acted as though frozen to the back of his cayuse. He stared at the scout, his mouth agape and astonish- ment in his face. He may not have recognized Buffalo Bill, but he certainly failed to recognize Masta Shella in the scout’s make-up. Before the half-breed could move; the scout was along- side him. “I want you, Talk-a-heap!” said the scout. As he reached out his hands, the half-breed suddenly awoke to the fact that this white man who looked some- thing like Masta Shella was on the point of grappling — with him. A rifle lay across his horse, in front of him. Dodging the hands, Talk-a-heap lifted the rifle and lunged at the scout with-its muzzle. The scout evaded the muzzle, then caught it in his hands, wrenched the gun away, and struck at the half- breed with the clubbed stock, © Talk-a-heap ducked so wildly to avoid the blow that he hurled himself from the back of his horse. The butt ‘of the rifle described a vicious half circle in the air, met no resistance, and flew out of the scout’s hands. _The scout dropped from his horse. Talk-a-heap, giving vent to a wild yell, whirled and started to run back along the base of the hill. In half a second Buffalo Bill was on the ground, and in a second more he had overhauled the half- breed and grabbed him by the shoulders. Talk-a-heap whirled and began to fight in good ear- nest. _From somewhere about his clothes he had de- veloped a knife. He made a murderous, whole-arm swing, calculating, no doubt, to impale the scout on the tees point. But his calculations missed the desired re- sult. Swift as lightning, Buffalo Bill dropped to ‘his knees. The blade described a glimmering arc over his head. Gripping Talk-a-heap about the legs, the scout gave a heave that overthrew him. The half-breed landed on the flat of his back with an impact that was terrific. His head must have struck something hard, for he threw out his arms spasmodically and relapsed into silence and inaction with a suddenness that surprised Buffalo Bill. Possibly he was shamming. This thought occurred to the scout, and he would have made an examination of the half-breed had there been -time. But time; it now developed, was exceedingly limited. Well down the side of Cheyenne Hill could be seen a smother of ‘mounted Sioux. Their ponies’ legs were working like piston rods, hurrying their riders to the © scene of the trouble between the half-breed and Masta Shella. The scout looked around. Talk-a-heap’s horse had bounded away in a fright, and the Roman-nosed cayuse was on the point of shying off. One leap enabled the NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. scout to grab the reins of the cayuse, and he hurried the brute to the half-breed’s side. The Sioux were advancing at speed. Still the scout did not lift his hand in signal to .Pawnee Bill and the Crows. “Too many Sioux and not enough Crows,” ran the bur- den of the scout’s swift thoughts. “We can’t tip our hands yet, with nothing discovered, so far as I know, as to the whereabouts of Miss Holcomb and the other two prisoners. I'll work this out on the line of least re- sistance.” It was plain to Buffalo Bill, by then, that Talk-a-heap ge not shamming. He was really stunned and power- ess. Lifting his helpless captive to the back of the cayuse, the scout mounted behind him and turned around the eastern side of the hill, Pawnee Bill must have wondered at his pard’s move, : but he was true to his instructions in spite of his pard’s peril, The sign had not been given, and neither the bowie man nor his Absarokes showed themselves. Flickering along in pursuit of the scout and his over- loaded cayuse were seven Sioux warriors. During that flight and pursuit, the scout’s judgment of the _cayuse ’S. bottom proved correct. Gamely the cayuse stood up under the work required of him. He lost ground in the race, to be sure, but he lost it slowly. Puffing and snorting, he leaped along the base of the hill, the scout scanning the topography of the country for some good place to make a stand. Another spur ran out from that side of the hill, well toward the south end of the irregular oval that was de- scribed by the hill’s base. This ridge was not more than ten feet high, but it was literally plastered with bowlders, and there was a veritable nest of them on its top. The scout turned the panting cayuse up the rough slope. It was rough work, and slow, but there was only ten feet of a climb, and the cayuse made it. Here the formation of the bowlders was far more favorable for a stand than the scout had dared to hope. The nest was really a nest, consisting of a small cleared area, with: jagged granite bulwarks guarding it on every side. The cayuse stumbled into the cleared space and dropped to his knees. The scout and his unconscious prisoner were saved the trouble of dismounting, for the cayuse’s fall threw them from his back. Leaving cayuse and prisoner to shift for themselves for a space, the scout whirled, jerked free his revolver, and sank to his knees. The weapon barked between two of the rocks, and the singing lead caused the seven Sioux to halt suddenly—so suddenly that their ponies sat down and slid on the hard earth. : Instantly all seven of them inde the peace sign. Two or three of them, getting their mounts in hand, “rode the sign, thus endeavoring, by all means in their power, to show the scout that their intentions were not hostile, but. friendly. “They think I’m Masta Shella,” “Talk-a-heap is the only one that isn’t fooled. can’t see Yellow Horse. Where’s the war chief?” A movement behind the scout caused him to turn. Talk- a-heap was reviving. He was still bewildered, and until But I _he could get the drift of events he would not be danger- ous, but the scout had to deal with him at once. With a final look at the seven redskins, ‘still frantically making their peace signs at a safe distance, Buffalo Bill turned away from the bowlders and laid quick hands on Talk-a-heap. Throwing him down, he pressed the muzzle of the revolver to his forehead. : “Savvy the gun, Talk-a-heap?” he hissed. “All same,” muttered the man. “Savvy him go off you make a noise?” “Ugh!” grunted Talk-a-heap, cringing. Covering his prisoner -with the revolver, the scout rose. erect and backed to the cayuse. Working with one hand, and keeping his menacing eyes and the revolver point on the half-breed, he removed the band that secured the blanket to the cayuse’s back. The band was of strong leather, and the scout knelt A Koved ae Medan Ment te ts tat fina Bint am Sten 9 muttered =the scout. — 10 NEW BUFFALO on his prisoner while he ripped the band in half with his knife. - “On your face, now!” ‘he ‘ordered. - “Pronto!” .. Talk-a-heap turned over obediently, and Buffalo Bill quickly secured his wrists, and then his feet. “Not a word, Talk-a-heap,” he threatened, “in a voice that’s loud enough to reach your red friends, Try it, and Ill train the gun on you, Your miserable life is valuable to you, I reckon, and if you want to keep it you'll follow orders. Savvy?” Hh ‘Talk-a-heap’s answer was a gurgle, but it was an affirma- tive gurgle. He realized that Buffalo Bill, although at » bay among the rocks, had the whip hand over him, at all events, ‘ a The scout stole another look between the bowlders. The seven Sioux were clustered together, evidently taik- ing over the peculiar situation. Certainly the swift run of events must have struck them as most- remarkable. Here was Masta Shella, released by the cunning of Yellow Horse and Talk-a-heap, sud- denly turning upon one of his resctters and running away from the rest of them. * “Where’s Yellow Horse, Talk-a-heap?” - The scout threw. the question at the half-breed while continuing to keep his eyes on the seven beyond the low ridge. Fane he ae As “Bout two-t’ree minit, by gee-krips, you bettar look out,” growled Talk-a-heap, ‘dose Sioux dey was get your Hain? pale fa hae “lm asking you a question, Talk-a-heap,” returned the scout. “Where’s Yellow Horse?” -- “He stay with-de pris’ners. You bettar look out. “Dose Kul-tus-til-akum, dey grab your. hair,” -“Flow far away are the prisoners?” * “Yaas, I don’ tell dat. You look for save your -hair, by gee-krips, and not bodder *bout’ dé pris’ners.” One of the Sioux at that moment, with both hands lifted high, palms outward, began riding toward the foot of the low ridge. In order to make the scout more cer- tain of his peaceable intentions, he leit his weapons with his friends, > | oe ee Hoi “lm going to palaver with one of the reds, Talk-a- heap,’ muttered the scout, “and, while I’m doing it, you can save your bacon. by keeping a still tongue in your Heat: CemiuR 0 Ce Ges Talk-a-heap gave another affirmative gurgle, and the scout crouched low and watched warily. ' “Stop!” he shouted, when the Indian had come’ within easy earshot. “Now, redskin, what do you want: with Masta Shella?’ CHAPTER VIII. GETTING CLEAR. The redskin who had advanced upon the ridge appeared to have a fair command of English, For that very pur- pose, probably, he had: been selected by the rest to act as spokesman and get some explanation from Masta Shella of his queer actions. “You all same Masta Shella, huh?” shouted the Indian. “All same,” ‘ “Why Masta Shella make um fight?” “No savvy why you try make um jump Masta Shella.” “No hurt um Masta Shella. All same friends.” “Why you chase um Masta Shella?” “Masta Shella run, all same ketch um Talk-a-heap. In- jun run to ketch um Masta Shella, tell um Injun all same friend,” “No like um,’ said the scout. “Why you no like um? Yellow Horse him save um Masta Shella. Talk-a-heap him save um Masta Shella. Why you no like um?” ( “Why Yellow Horse save um?” “Vellow Horse all same friend.” “Sioux warriors kill um Broken Arrow, Masta Shella’s friend. How Masta Shella’ know Sioux ‘warriors no kill um Masta Shella?” The scout, in this talk, was harking back to the san- ' guinary..event that had occurred at the time Holcomb’s wagon train was besieged by an overpowering force of Sioux. Yellow Horse and his warriors had been fooled BILL WEEKLY. into attacking the train by the duplicity of Masta Shella and Broken Arrow. In their anger, when the double- dealing was discovered, the Sioux had killed Broken Arrow. Hit ; “Vellow Horse heap sorry him kill um Broken Ar- row. All same. save um Masta Shella from white: pony sogers.” “No like um double tongue!” shouted the scout. “Sioux talk um double tongue.” > “Talk. um straight tongue,”’. insisted the redskin. “No b’leeve um,” : “Masta Shella come, go with Injun to Yellow Horse. Yellow Horse tell um.” “Where’s Yellow. Horse?” “Him stay with pris’ners, two hat weavers, one white squaw. You come, Masta Shella; come go with Injun to - Yellow Horse.” “Nah!. Injun bring Yellow Horse to Masta. Shella,” “Yellow Horse no like um. Yellow Horse him say Injun bring um Masta Shella.” © : “Masta Shella no like um. Injun make a good many bad play this grass.” ee ae “You no come?” Saal ah “Masta Shella stay here. -You take um other Injun, go for Yellow Horse. Yellow Horse say -him friend of Masta Shella, then Masta Shella b’leeve.” ‘ We bring um,” said the Indian, and turned his pony and cantered back toward his waiting comrades. Then followed another council, -After a palaver. of two or three minutes, the spokesman for the seven Sioux again approached the ridge, hands in the air. “What do you want now?” yelled the scout. “Masta Shella let am Talk-a-heap go ‘long with In- jun?” asked the Sioux.?/) 272 : “No let um,” replied the scout firmly, — - _ “One Injun go for Yellow Horse,” suggested the Sioux, “other Injun him stay, huh?” | “All Injun go. All Injun no go, Masta Shella shoot um Talk-a-heap.” “No shoot um!” cried the redskin; “Injun all go.” Again he turned and rejoined his companions; again there was a council, and then, to the scout’s surprise, the whole seven whirled their ponies. and galloped toward the north end of Cheyenne Hill, “What do you think of that!” chuckled the scout. “I’ve fooled that outfit to the top of their bent. They're all going for Yellow Horse.” ae i. “Injune blame’ fool!” snarled Talk-a-heap. “T agree with you, Talk-a-heap,” returned the scout, getting up and pushing the revolver into the band of his trousers. a ee “Dey all same t’ink you Masta -Shella,” went on the half-breed. : ‘They don’t know the difference, Talk-a-heap. I kept down behind the rocks, and they evidently didn’t recog- any difference between my voice and the white rene- gade’s. “Bymeby dose Injun dey come back, den by gee-krips you lose your hair.” “When they come back, Talk-a-heap, I won’t be here.” ‘Den me; I tell dose Injun you not Masta Shella.” No, you won’t. You won’t be here, either.” Bending down, the scout grabbed the half-breed by the shoulders and lifted him upright on his bound feet. “Were you gone take me, huh?” demanded the half- breed. “I’m going to take you to a place where you'll be safer than you are here.” By gee-krips, I no like dat. Who you mans, huh?” ‘Pa-e-has-ka. Savvy Pa-e-has-ka ?” A. shiver ran through the form of the half-breed. Ugh!” he muttered; “dis be good chance for get keel. Pa-e-has-ka! Whoosh!” “Up on the horse with you, Talk-a-heap! You can't help yourself much, but be careful you don’t do anything to hinder my work. Now!” The scout lifted the breed in his brawny arms and laid him across the pony like a bag of meal. | Jak bettar go on de foot,” grumbled Talk-a-heap. No like to ride da cayuse lak dees way.” Vm picking and choosing for you now, Talk-a-heap,” ella ne ken Ar- ony UX returned the scout sharply. “Don’t try to throw yourself off, or youll be sorry.’ Pulling the reins over the cayuse’s head, the scout led the animal out through the bowlders and down the rough slope to level ground. There he halted to mount behind his prisoner. “How long will it take those reds to get to the place where Yellow Horse is keeping the prisoners?” he asked. ‘““Mabeso one hour,” was the gloomy response of the half-breed. “Dey go an’ dey come in one hour.” “Good!” exclaimed the scout, and pointed the cayuse for the timber that edged the river. Scarcely had he passed into the screen of brush and trees when a voice greeted him. “On-she-ma-da, necarnis! What sort of a move do you call that?” Pawnee Bill, leading Bear Paw, rode up alongside the scout. “It was about the only move I could make, Pawnee,” Buffalo Bill answered. eee didn’t give us the signal to come.on, did you?” “cc oO.” “I was waiting with the Crows, all ready to take a hand. I didn’t see the signal, but so much happened, and so quickly, that I didn’t know but you had. given it and I had failed to see it.” “T didn’t give it.” “What was your game, Pard Bill?” “Why, to keep the rest of those reds thinking I was Masta Shella. As long as they are sure of that, their prisoners will be safe—at least temporarily.” “The half-breed must have discovered that you are not Masta Sheila.” “Naturally. That’s why I had to run off with him. If (’d left him behind, you see, he’d have tipped off your trump card to the Sioux. Then the fat would have been in the fire.” “Where did the reds go?” “They went after Yellow Horse. _ You sent them?” “I played up that misunderstanding the Sioux had with Masta Shella and Broken Arrow the time Holcomb’s wagon train was attacked on the way to the Musselshell. I led them to believe that I was Masta Shella, and that I was afraid they'd treat me as they had treated Broken Arrow. They insisted that they were friends. I pre- tended not to believe them, and told them they’d have to get Yellow Horse before I came out of the rocks and had any confidence in their pretensions. So,” and here the scout laughed, “they rushed away to get their chief.” “They'll be back——” “Not for an hour yet, so Talk-a-heap says.” “Well, when they do come, and find you’re not on the top of that rock pile, they'll begin to think they were fooled.” Fi “1 expect ‘that.’ “But what’s the use of it all, necarnis? You'll have to diagram this out for me. If you wanted to fool them before, why don’t you want to keep on fooling them ?” “For the reason that we are going to ty, and effect a rescue of Miss Holcomb, the baron, and Newt Jerson.” *“When-——” “When the reds come back with Yellow Horse, to avow their friendly intentions and get me out from among the rocks. If the seven come back with the chief, that will leave only part of their number to look after the pris- oners. You and I and the Crows, I believe, will be able to get the prisoners away from the small number of Sioux left with them without much trouble—possibly without any trouble.” “By my medicine,’ murmured Pawnee Bill, “but that’s a clever dodge. There’s only one place In your scheme that looks doubtful to me, necarnis.’ ‘What place is that?” “Why, you don’t know where the prisoners are. “That’s what we’re now going to find out,’ “How ?” The scout laid hold of Talk-a-heap and tipped him off the cayuse. “This half-breed’s: going to tell us, Pawnee, swered sternly. I sent them.” 99 he an- NEW BUFFALO BELL WEEATY, CHAPTER IX, TALK-A-HEAP TALKS. Talk-a-heap flopped over on his back as he fell from the horse and lay staring up at the scout and the bowie man. “By the sacred O-zu-ha!” muttered Pawnee Bill, “this fellow’s face is enough to hang him. He’s the worst- looking ki-yi I’ve seen in these parts.” ‘“He’s just as tough as he looks,” said the scout. “Look here, Talk-a-heap,” he added. Then, while the half-breed watched him closely, Buf- falo Bill removed the yellow-haired wig, stripped away the army blouse and the overalls, and stood out in his tegulation gear. “Roll those things up and stuff them in your saddle- bags, Pawnee,’ went on the scout. The prince of the bowie began arranging the make-up in a compact bundle and stowing them in his war bag. The scout, while this was going on, had stepped to the side of the half-breed. “If there were any doubts ’in your mind about my being Pa-e-has-ka,” said he, “I reckon they’re about. gone by this time. I’m Buffalo Bill, the man who does what he says he’s going to. Now, listen: My pard and I are out here with some Crow scouts to rescue Miss Holcomb, my Dutch pard, and Newt Jerson. We're going to get them; savvy? What’s more, you’re going to help us get them. {f the three prisoners, or any one of them, suffer harm at the hands of Yellow Horse, we’re going to send you over the one-way trail.” “You no keel me for w’at Yellow Horse do to dose prisner?” returned Talk-a-heap, in a panic. “You heard me say so, didn’t your And aaa I tell you, a moment ago, that Buffalo Bill’s word was as good as his bond?” “By gee-krips! Horse do?” “Tl tell. you. The only way you can save your hair is by telling us what we can do to save the prisoners. Will you answer my questions?” : ee I spik w’at you want, but me, I no wan’ to be ee ”? “How did Yellow Horse know Miss Holcomb was com- ing from Custer?” “Wael,” answered Talk-a-heap- shiftily, “he find him out.” “Howe?” “T was at de fort, an’ I hear de talk ’bout de gal when she come, an’ when she gone start for Benton.” “Then you got away from Custer ahead of her, and told Yellow Horse and his gang about it?” eYaes.. “Yellow Horse was quick to take up your scheme ?” “T brav’ mans, Pa-e-has-ka; [—— era. |e muttered Paw nee Bill disgustedly. “T save de pris’ners’ lives.” dy did you save the prisoners’ lives?” “I spik to dose mans Yellow Horse. He was gone keel all de pris’ners. I say, ‘No keel, mak’ pris’ner; den we trade pris’ ner for Masta Shella.” So dat ees w’at we do, an’ de pris’ners’ lives ees save’.” ‘It was your scheme to trade the prisoners for Masta Shella ?” u Yaes, yaes.” “Where did you capture the prisoners?” “In de gully, ’bout twelve-fifteen mile on de Custer Dray “Were any of the prisoners hurt at the time of the capture 2 “Nah. De Sioux Injun scare de horses in de gully. Fat yellow eyes hees horse ees mule, an’ de mule turn de back han’ spung. Boe de fat mans he ees wake up, he ees tied. De gal she fall from de horse w’at she ride, an’ we catch her easy. Dat Newt Jerson, he come hard, but we hit him with a club gun. Den he come not so hard. No one ees bad hurt.” “You made the girl write that letter?” How I was gone help w’at Yellow I blame sharp mans; sharp as de steel trap, “Yaes,” and a look of pride ran through the villainous face of the half-breed, “dat ees my work. Me, I think of him.” NEW BUFFALO A tot el bot fle} el hol aod we fooled the gq f) mt Yt" er eh eae 2 oo ye W low Horse, if er os fade [3 me BILL WEEKLY. “That’s Holcomb’s yarn,’ put in Pawnee Bill. ‘Hol- comb vows that this Masta Shella is one of the two grain thieves who were imprisoned in the guardhouse at Fort Lincoln at the same time Rain in the Face was there. The grain thieves sawed a hole in the guardhouse and got away, and Rain in the Face helped himself to the hole.” “T believe all that has been sufficiently proved, Pawnee. Masta Shella won the friendship of the whole Sioux nation by helping Rain in the Face.” Once more the scout turned to Talk-a-heap. “Yellow Horse and his warriors were not on very good terms with Masta Shella,’ said he, “at the time Masta Shella was captured.” “Nah,” said Talk-a-heap. “Masta Shella him liked by all de Sioux. When de Pah-sap-pah (Black Hills) Sioux dey hear dat Masta Shella has been made pris’ner, den dey send word to Yellow Horse, ‘You no come back without dat Masta Shella; you get keel you come back without dat Masta Shella.’ So Yellow Horse he try get Masta Shella.” “Tm .beginning to understand this layout,’ said the scout. “Yellow Horse and his war party may be at outs with Masta Shella, but their people, back in the Pah-sap- pah, won't have any harm happen to him if they can help it. So they have put it up to Yellow Horse to bring Masta Shella back, or suffer the consequences. This ac- counts for the present hostility of the Sioux when we had them beaten. Now A distant thump of pony hoofs reached the ears of the pards. Pawnee Bill jumped to the undergrowth, pushed it aside, and looked out toward Cheyenne Hill. “On-she-ma-da, necarnis!” he é¢xclaimed, turning away. The Sioux are back, and they’re bringing Yellow Horse. They’re slashing for that ridge where you stood: off the seven.” “No time to lose, then,” said the scout. “Bring up the Crows in a rush, Pawnee.” CHAPTER X. THE CAVE IN THE CANON. Buffalo Bill, Pawnee Bill, and the Crows worked swiftly and silently. It was the scout’s purpose, if possible, to rescue all the prisoners before Yellow Horse could re- turn to them from Cheyenne Hill. In order to do that, the scout’s force must strike, and strike quickly. In this the excellence of the scout’s reasoning when telling his plans to Holcomb was clearly apparent. A force of troopers, good fighters though the veterans were, was vastly inferier to the scout’s Crows, as led by Pawnee Bill. _ The Crows, with the pards at their head, could swoop irom point to point, strike their blows, and be away again before the Sioux had knowledge of their actions. But there was one point that troubled the scout. From Pawnee Bill’s discoveries. that morning, it ap- peared that the prisoners had been separated. To go to the place where Talk-a-heap was to guide them, and rescue the girl and the baron, then to go to the pocket and rescue Newt Jerson, made double work. Double work took more time; and more time might give the Sioux 2 chance to get back to either place before the scout and his torce had accomplished their work. _ These reflections, although disquieting, did not prevent the scout from hurrying to carry out his plans. Talk-a-heap’s horse had been lost at the time of the prisoner’s capture, but the scout still had the Roman- nosed cayuse which he had ridden from the fort. The half-breed’s feet were unbound, he was made to mount the cayuse, and then his feet were bound again under the animal’s body. : The scout, on Bear Paw, and Pawnee Bill, on his war horse Chick Chick, rode on either side of Talk-a-heap, their reatas encircling the cayuse’s neck. _ For the half-breed’s convenience in riding and guid- ing, his hands were freed; but he was as much a prisoner as ever, being constantly under the watchful eyes of the two pards. The five Crows rode behind. active and alert as bloodhounds. : The scout took a look for himself at the side of Chey- enne Hill just before starting away. ol- 1in ort he sot Nd NEW BUFFALO The Sioux were riding their peace signs within easy pistol shot of the spur where he had been holed away with his half-breed prisoner. They could not see Masta Shella and the half-breed, but they must have been under the impression that they were still there. Smothering a laugh, the scout turned away. “What's up?” queried the bowie man. Motare yourself, Talk-a-heap,” said the scout, jumping into his saddle. “‘What’s more, if you put any value on that scalp of yours, get over ‘the ground for a record. We've got to rescue the girl before. the Sioux chief and his outfit get to where we’re going.” “I go queek,’ answered Talk-a-heap, and struck the cayuse with his heels. The horse jumped away, and Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill kept a pace that held them alongside the prisoner. “Why, Pawnee,” observed the scout, as they rode, “Yel- low Horse and his bucks are under the impression that I am still in that nest of bowlders on top of the ridge. They’re cutting up their peace didoes and trying hard to make me show myself.” The bowie man laughed. “You've buffaloed them to the queen’s taste, necarnis,” said he, “It was a clever play—the only play that could have saved the prisoners.’ Talk-a-heap was conning a course that followed the river bank, and kept the whole party well within the screen of. the timber. They were working upstream, and they kept their ponies at a gallop. The timber was scanty and’ there was not ‘enough peatetou to interfere with their rapid passage. “The point that bothers me,’ -said the scout, “is the one you developed.” “Which was that?” “Why, the separating of the prisoners. You discov- ered Jerson holed away in a pocket. That means that Yellow Horse, for some. purpose of his own, has divided his. captives. Jerson is in one place, and Miss Holcomb and the baron are’in another. We've got to make both places before the reds get away from Cheyenne Hill—and the pocket may be at a considerable distance from the place to which Talk-a-heap is taking us.” “Don’t lose sight of the fact, necarnis, that the reds, when they leave Cheyenne Hill, will go only to one place.” “They might divide their force and send a part to each place.” “What will Yellow Horse think when he fails to find the supposed Masta Shella at Cheyenne Hill?” “He may think he has been fooled.” ie start at once to put the prisoners out of the way?” “That is more than possible.” “Then wouldn’t he be apt to go to the place where Miss Holcomb and the baron were left? The girl’s’ his ' most important prisoner.” “Check. You've got that dead to rights, Pawnee.” “T can’t. figure,’ went on Pawnee Bill, “why Yellow Horse should scatter his prisoners around like that. It compels him to divide his own force in order to fur- nish guards, and we know, and he must know, that it is a tactical blunder to diminish a small force in the face of a stronger force of the enemy.” “He don’t know how large a force we've got,” and the scout turnedsa grim backward look at the five Crow: scouts. “He knows that he has stirred up the whole post with that letter which was shot into Officers’ Row on the arrow. Naturally, he’ll figure on having all the soldiers at Ben- ton on his track.” - “T reckon he will, Pawnee; and his plan, it seems to me, is to bother the soldiers by making them look in two dif- ferent places for the prisoners. He knows the soldiers will be after him, even if. Colonel Weatherby could be clubbed into setting Masta Shella at liberty.” “He must know the soldiers would be after him harder than ever, with Masta Shella free to kick up more ruc- tions in the Indian country.” “That’s why he’s dividing his prisoners. He don’t in- tend to release them because Masta Shella is released. That was a cinch, right from the start. Now cerca beige i. Nas Ma BILL WEEKLY. | 13 The scout broke off suddenly. While his conversation with Pawnee Bill was proceeding, Talk-a-heap had: guided them out’ of the timber and across a bare stretch of ground that sloped steadily upward. At the top of this rise was a chaparral of trees and bushes, cutting the sky line sharply. “What now, Talk-a-heap?” demanded the scout. “We come close to de place, Pa-e-has-ka,” answered the half-breed. “You see dose brush?” he queried, point- ing upward. PES! “Dere we stop. You do de rest on foot. dis, Pa-e-has-ka.” “What ?” “If you save de white squaw an’ de odder two pris’ner, den I. go free?” “You go free, yes.” “Good! Me, I do w’at I can, you bet.” “That’s a sensible way of looking at it. The better you do, Talk-a-heap, the safer you'll be. You're a coyote, if there ever was one, but you're entitled to consideration if you help us rescue ‘the prisoners.’ Reaching the chaparral, they pushed into it and then halted suddenly. Breaking sheer away from under their horses’ front feet was a dizzy gulf. The lip of the chasm was level with the ground, and, on a dark night, it would have been possible for a man to tumble over the brink to his doom in the depths below. Perhaps the gulf measured a hundred feet from rim rock to rim rock, and a hundred feet from rim rock to bottom. It extended north and south, curving into a sort of bow shape at the ends and vanishing from the pards’ eyes. “Down dere is ‘de place, Pa-e-has-ka,”’ said the half- breed, pointing: “IT can’t see any sign of reds in the bottom of the cafion.” “You see dose white rock?” The scout, straining his eyes, was able to see the rock. “Yes,” he answered. “Dat ees by de cave in de cafion. Him ole Cheyenne Cave. Dere ees w’ere de pris’ner was lef’.’ “How do we get down?” “De Injun dey ride up cafion, but me, I was sharp mans. I no breeng you up de cafion for fear we meet dose Injun mans. You get down by de rope, first to dat leetle shelf, den to de next place at de bottom. Always you use de rope.” “We'll commence at once,” declared the scout, slip- . ping from his saddle. ‘“There’s no time to throw at the ids.” Talk-a-heap was left on the Roman-nosed cayuse, but his hands were firmly lashed at his back and he was put in charge of Spotted Wolf. Nahkee, by virtue of being the best hand player, was leader of the Crows. To him the scout, in curt, sharp words, emphasized the fact that the half-breed was to be treated considerately while on his good behavior. The pards’ reatas were spliced together. The Crows happened to have ropes, and four of these were spliced onto the pards’ reatas. When this work was done, one end of the spliced cable was fastened securely to a bowlder at the rim of the cafion, and the other end was dropped downward. It struck the shelf, midway of the cliff, and the free end lay there. The scout and the bowie man pulled off their boots and threw aside their coats and hats. Their’ belts and guns they took with them. The scout was first to descend. Hanging to the rope, and planting his feet against the rocky wall, he made the descent easily to the shelf. There he cast downward the rest of the rope, and presently gained the bottom of the cafion. Pawnee Bill followed close behind him. They were less than a dozen feet from the white rock indicated by Talk-a-heap. At the side of the rock was a black opening leading into the bosom of. the cliff. “There are probably some reds on guard inside that hole,’ whispered the bowie man. “We'll creep in on them,” answered the scout. “We'll have a big advantage if we can take them by surprise.” Passing to the side of the cavern entrance, Buffalo Bill You tell me a. eter ig, atime anh i ke wih Nn op fib aN ak aa A BR pe ek ARGS at a RGN de in a aR SS vay He LR ARS SIR ONS SANS ASH aM ES 26: ASE eae om tou Tee ois ans sti $e np Si aa tie fies ty Me Ribena hee sith SRA settee dh oa retire x feel a orang er a rere ten ate ei a OS a at pore oe a PP es 14 | NEW BUFFALO dropped to his knees and began worming his stealthy way into the blank darkness. Pawnee Bill crawled along at his heels. CHAPTER XI A TIGHT SQUEAK. The scout knew nothing about Cheyenne Cave. He had never even heard the place mentioned until Talk-a- heap had described it as the place where the prisoners had been left by Yellow Horse. All was Stygian gloom before the scout as he crawled onward. Now and again he could feel Pawnee’s out- reaching hands touching his heels. Whatever happened, the bowie man was right behind to take part in it. Suddenly the scout heard a voice—a familiar voice splitting through the opaque darkness: “Look a leedle oudt, whoefer you vas! got deir guns——’” There came the sound of a blow and sudden silence on the part of the speaker. The baron, for unquestionably it was Villum von Schnitzenhauser, had been roughly silenced. “Flat down, Pawnee!” whispered the scout sharply; “flat down!” Both pards sprawled close to the tocky floor of the cave. Hardly had they done so, when lurid flashes broke out of the gloom beyond, and a deafening roar and a smell of burned powder filled the underground chamber. “At them!” cried the scout, regaining his feet. How many enemies there were in front of them the pards had no means of knowing; the scout guessed, fig- uring from the fact that there were twelve in the orig- inal party, that there could be no more than three. Count- ing the half-breed, there had been eight at Cheyenne Hill; the half-breed was a prisoner and out of the count, and Yellow Horse was now at the hill. That would ieave three in the cave. But the warriors guarding Jerson in the pocket—where had they come from? So, everything considered, there was much doubt as to. the force facing the pards. But there was nothing else for it than to make front on them. Nor did they dare to aes shooting. Miss Holcomb and the baron might suffer. Side by side the scout and the bowie man rushed to- - ward the place where they had seen the flashes. By lying flat on the cavern floor they had escaped the bullets. If their foes had muzzle-loading rifles, the pards would be upon them before they could reload—perhaps before they would have time to use their revolvers, in case they were supplied with such small arms. Buffalo Bill ran into a flinty fist. The blow caught him in the shoulder and whirled him half around, He was facing the other way again, however, swift as lightning, and had hurled himself upon his unseen antagonist. The Indian gave a grunt as he was flung to the hard floor. But he had not been dazed or crippled, and he wriggled clear and pulled from the scout’s grasp into the gloom. Pawnee Bill had scarcely any better luck. Some hidden hand struck at him with a knife. The knife bit into his coat, just grazing the skin on his shoulder. He struck out with his fist, and felt, rather than saw, the form be- fore him reel backward. After that there was silence—but only for a minute. It was startlingly broken by a clatter of unshod hoofs pounding the cavern floor. “They’re off!” yelled Pawnee Bill. The scout whirled around just in time to see the last Sioux, mounted, silhouetted in the cave opening. The next instant the Sioux had vanished. “Dot makes no nefer minds,” came the voice of the baron. “Dey vas gone und I vas resgued. Himmelblitzen, vat a habbiness!” “Is that you, baron?” asked the scout. ‘ “Shimminy grickeds! Oof it ain’d der sgout!” and with that the baron went off into a spasm of talk suggesting his joy at this unexpected meeting. Guiding himself by the sound of the baron’s voice, the scout made his way to his side and bent down. “We've got to get out of here in a hurry, baron,” said he, “and we haven’t any time for useless talk. Where’s Miss Holcomb?” Der rets haf ~ nee Bill, BILL WEEKLY. “She don’d vas in der gave, Puffalo Pill,” came the sur- prising response. “Not in the cave?” echoed the scout, taken aback. “Nein. She vas took avay mit dot Cherson feller.” “When ?” “Dis morgen, alretty.” “You all spent the night in the cave?” “Yah, ‘soi’ “And Jerson and Miss Holcomb were taken away early this forenoon?” “Dot's der vay oof it.” “A beastly run of luck!” you hear that, Pawnee?” “T should say! All the prisoners were separated and taken to different places. I’ve found the baron’s mule, but there don’t seem to be any other animals here.” “The reds took their ponies when they left. How many of the reds were in here, baron?” “Two, dot’s all. Dey saw you ven you come greeping droo der hole, und dey vas gedding retty to shoot ven | called oudt aboudt——” ‘T’ll turn you loose, and then we'll get out of here. Those two reds will meet Yellow Horse and his outfit, returning from Cheyenne Hill, and tell them what’s been going on in the cave. The chances are about even whether Yellow Horse comes on here or goes to the place where Miss Holcomb was taken. In any event, we shall have to work, and work quick.” : Swiftly the scout freed the baron of the ropes that bound him; then, lighting matches, he went around the cave in order to make sure that the girl was not there. There was a possibility, a bare possibility, that the baron had been mistaken. Miss Holcomb, however, was not to be found. While the scout was prosecuting his fruitless search, the baron had picked up his riding gear and had saddled and bridled Toofer. r “You can’t take the mule, baron,” said Pawnee Bill, suddenly discovering what the baron was up to. “For vy nod?” demanded the baron. “Why, we’re going up on a rope, the same as we came down. You'll have to go with us.” ees “Und leaf dot Toofer mu-el pehindt, for der Inchuns?” howled the baron, in wild protest. “Nix, I bed you. I vould radder ged skeluped.” Before Pawnee Bill or Buffalo Bill could stop him, he had vaulted into the saddle and rushed Toofer through the entrance to the cave. “The baron’s liable to spoil everything,” growled Paw- “If he takes the mule, he’ll have to get out by the bottom of the cafion, and——” “Hist!” interrupted the scout. “The baron has run into something already.” “Inchuns! Inchuns!” the baron was yelping wildly from the cafion. ‘ The pards dashed out of the gloom. Down the cafion they could ‘see the Sioux hostiles chasing at speed in the direction of the cave. Yellow Horse was in the lead and was plying his quirt like mad. ; “Good !” said the scout. ‘ ‘How’s that?” demanded Pawnee Bill, following as the scout rushed toward the rope. ‘Why, Yellow Horse is coming ‘this way instead of making for the place where Miss Holcomb was. taken. That gives us a little time in which to look for the girl.” “Keno!” “Leave that mule, baron,” ordered the scout, “and take to the rope with Pawnee and me.” Nefer!” bawled the baron. “Toofer can show his heels to any Inchun ponies vat iss on der eart’, and der mu-el iss der apple oof my eye! I vill shday mit Toofer!” Thereupon the baron dug in and set Toofer at his best pace the other way along the cafion. He lifted his voice. “Do There was no time to argue matters with the baron. Even if there had been, to overtake him was impossible. Let him go,” said the scout, laying hold of the rope and beginning to climb. “We'll have a tighter squeak o it getting clear of the cafion than the baron will have. Ah! he added, as a sputter of shots came from the rim rock ; the Crows are taking hold,” Bully for the Absarokes !” applauded Pawnee Bill. Simultaneously with the firing from above, the spliced mM %O OS ° —t tn aggre <_ AS FAS owe Ot Os ery sure low ing n [ SECs tfit, een her e&e ive hat Ee rope began to Bad dead over the lip of the: cafion, snatching ‘both pards along with it. “Hane (on for ‘your life, Pawnee!” roared the scout, spinning’ and whirling with the motion imparted to the ‘rope by the drawing force overhead. ‘“They’ve hitched a horse to the rope and are snaking us out of the gulch.” There was no opportunity for talk after that. Both pards were put to it to keep themselves from being thrown off the rope by the jutting rocks, but they managed to hold on until the rim rock was reached. Then, quickly, the pulling horse was halted and Nahkee reached down and gave the scout a hand over the ledge. Pawnee Bill came next, and the two pards, dizzy from their swinging and gyrating, staggered onto level ground and toward their horses. “Who did that?” demanded the scout, looking at Spotted Wolf, who was busy untying the end of the spliced ropes from Bear Paw’s -saddle. _ “Me,” answered Nahkee. “Heap fine Injun, huh?” “Heap fine,’ said the scout. “You gib um Nahkee plug tobac’?” ae we get through with our work, yes; two plugs tobac’.’ Once inside his boots, coat, and hat, and in the saddle his whirling brain somewhat steadied, the scout rode close to the rim and looked down. The Sioux were just dis- appearing around a bend in the cafion, in hot pursuit of the baron. “We've got to do something for the baron,” said’ the scout. “Bring the half-breed’ Nahkee. This way, Paw- nee, on the run.’ Following the cafion’s rim, the scout pushed Bear Paw at best speed through the chaparral. CHAPTER XII. UNEXPECTED LUCK. Keeping up with the baron in his race along the bottom of the cafion was an impossibility for the pards and: the Crow scouts. The baron hada good start, for, while the pards were being snaked upward; to the top Be the cafion wall, ‘Toofer had been pounding into the distance with his master. A few minutes after deanna the pursuit, Buffalo Bill was-halted by a gully that ran into the cafion at right angles. The gully was wide and deep, and it was neces- sary to make a detour to get around it. “The baron -can’t expect any further help from -us,” said the scout. ‘He'll have to wriggle clear of:his diffi- culties, now, as best he can. If Toofer is in an agreeable frame of mind, and willing to do his best, he can run away from those Sioux cayuses.” Buffalo Bill had started Bear Paw along the brink of the gully, hoping to discover a place where the break could be crossed. The outlook was not promising; and he reined in and waited for Pawnee Bill, the Crows, and the prisoner to come close. - “We've. got to move ina ane if we save he girl,” said the scout. “And the worst of it is, necarnis, added the bowie man, “we don’t know which way to move,’ “Talk-a-heap,” said the scout, facing the half-breed, “have you any idea where Yellow Horse would take Miss Holcomb ?” “Nah,” was the gloomy response. lak de fox. Me, I dunno.” “Think hard. Remember, you do not secure your lib- erty unless we rescue all the prisoners.” “I tink so hard as. I. can, but I dunno. I was gone duck, I bet.” There was not the least doubt that Talk-a-heap had reached the end of his rope. He was anxious to impart further information, for his liberty depended on it, but he had none to impart. “it's up to us, necarnis,” said Pawnee Bill gloomily, “and to go at it by guess a by gosh, in these hills, is like looking for a needle in a haystack.” 39 “Yellow Horse him By gee-krips, NEW BUFFALO ws AR in ae aR a A Hi A the in Ne Sia HS sea rete Ba Ay Pea nea Sent BILL WEEKLY. ae “There’s sal one bet eft Pawnee, and that is to go to that pocket where Yellow ‘Horse sent Jerson.” “The girl isn’t there.” “T understand that, but it is possible that somewhere between this cafion and the pocket the girl may be found. How. far away is the pocket? Can you give an esti- mate P’ Bain Hee a Pawnee Bill lifted himself in his: stirrups. © East. by north, dim in the distance, could be seen the top of Chey- enne Hill. From that uplift he was able to get his bear- ings. Drawing an imaginary line with his eyes directly to the west of Cheyenne Hill, he encountered the crest of a sugar-loaf uplift; thence his glance came slowly toward the gully, halting at a bunch of timber in the middle dis- tance. “See those trees, necarnis?” he inquired. pointing. “Yes,” answered Buffalo Bill. "To the right of the trees is a roek pile. in the side of the low slope.” “Jupiter!” exclaimed the scout. minute trip from here, at slow pace.’ ydiast abouts. |) “If Jerson is there, then it’s a pen he didn’t: travel far an distributing his prisoners, We’ Il set out for the pocket.” They headed. their boise away fn the gtlly.. As they rode, Crooked Foot and Nahkee took charge of Talk- a-heap, riding on either side of him with their ropes about the neck of the Roman-nosed cayuse. ~ Pawnee Bill had coiled in his reata, unspliced from the . cable tused for getting into the cafion, and the scout had done the same with his own rope. “We didn’t have time for much of a- palaver with the baron,” remarked Pawnee Bill, _who was stirrup ‘to BHtEep with the scout. veel Sioux wouldn’t sa for it,’ laughed the sente, “We have another chance ito find Miss Holcomb, and the baron is giving it to us.’ - ' “You mean that he'll keep Yellow Horse and his réda occupied while we're hunting ?” “Yes.” “Then, necarnis, here’s: hoping Palas the baron ows the reds his- heels, ‘but that- he doesn’t do-it so quickly as to put them off his track before -we’re done with our part of the work,” Another gully, or, rather, a sort of pass thecuek a low ridge, intercepted the pards : and their red allies at this point. i : As was usual, in that part of the country, bowlders littered the pass, but they were not so formidable as to prevent a safe and speedy crossing to the other side. The scout was on the point of spurring Bear Paw over the brink of the slope, when a latter: oft hoofs from the west drew his attention. Spotted Wolf had been scouting a little on the flanks, and he was now ‘sliding back toward the main party, silent, but flourishing his hands to indicate that there was something of importance on his mind. - “Wait a minute, necarnis,” called Pawnee Bill. Wolf has got onto something,” Buffalo Bill drew Bear Paw back from the edge of ie descent and waited until Spotted Wolf came close. The Indian, at close inspection, could be seen to be’ tremen- dously excited. There was a wild glimmer in his’ little, black eyes, and the heave of his bare, brown breast was quick and sharp. “Cutthroats!” he announced. “Sioux !”’ exclaimed the scout. “Where?” Spotted Wolf stretched out his arm to the westward; The pocket We ,, That's only a ‘yee “Spotted then, lowering his hand, he pointed to the pass and ler his finger travel toward the east. “All same come along coulee, Pa-e-has-ka,”’ he an- nounced. “How many?” Spotted Wolf held up four fingers. “One Injun all same Yellow Horse,”’. he announced. “On-she-ma-da!’? muttered Pawnee Bill. “Here’s luck—just when we needed it most,” said the scout. “You're sure you saw the chief, Spotted Wolf?’ . melita ky Sle Sl nae g eh eta ah th hs PARA obey eg aied tere ome Bs ee bh ODM NA at's a - 16 NEW BUFFALO “Heap sure. Him ride ahead. Other Injun ’way be- hind him. Heap quick Cutthroats pass um Pa-e-has-ka.” “Lis’en!” spoke up Nahkee. ._ Far to the westward, faint but unmistakable, came the ' flippity-flip of a pony’s hoofs. ‘ The scout leaped from the saddle and snatched his coiled reata. “Come on, .Pawnee,” he called. “On the jump, now. Bring your rope. Nahkee, keep the Crows back and out of sight. Don’t let Talk-a-heap make a _ sound. EpavVye 6. “Wuh!” Buffalo Bill slid over the edge of the slope and down among the bowlders. The bottom of the pass was fairly clear of the stones, and that would be the course traveled by the Sioux chief. With keen, alert eyes he swiftly selected a point of vantage for himself and Pawnee Bill. “Down here, Pawnee,” hind a bowlder. This bowlder was flanked by another stone, which would hide the pards from the view of any one coming up the pass from the west. “What’s the program?” inquired Pawnee Bill, cool as ever when a Crisis was at hand. “We've captured Talk-a-heap, and now there’s a chance to lay Yellow Horse by the heels. By doing that, we’ll :.perhaps save Miss Holcomb.. In any event, it seems the - proper thing for us to do now that the prospect is so inviting.” “Correct. ‘Why the ropes?” “I want you to throw the chief’s pony. Do that, Paw- née, and I’ll take care of the chief.” \ “How about the three behind?” © “We'll have to leave them for the Crows to pick. Ah, he’s coming!” ..Around the flanking bowlder, Buffalo Bill, at that mo- ment, caught a glimpse of Yellow Horse. He was riding briskly, his face, streaked with yellow war paint, looking particularly hideous. He carried a lance, a bunch of feathers fluttering from just below the head of it. Yellow Horse was a weird figure as he came slashing along--the pass. His savage expression was the - result, no doubt, of his thoughts. .Pa-e-has-ka had raided his cave and released one-of the prisoners. Very likely he was hurrying off to make sure that the other two pris- -oners were not. released. “Ready?” whispered the scout. . “Ready’s whole family, necarnis,’” chuckled the bowie man, likewise known to those best acquainted with him as the rope wizard. “Consider that Sioux cayuse thrown.” .. The coiled: rope was in Pawnee Bill’s left hand and the noose in his right. He was spreading the noose a little wider and shuffling the loose, free coils back and forth in his fingers. Meanwhile, his hawklike glance never for an instant left the approaching chief. “T can’t do my work until you do yours,” whispered the scout. “Before you can count twenty, necarnis, my work will be done.” At the proper moment, timing himself by the plunkety- plunk of the unshod hoofs, the magician of the reata lifted himself suddenly. A whirl of the noose, and it shot out- ward, wriggling like a hempen serpent along the. ground. Yellow Horse saw his peril, but too late. The noose snared the cayuse by the right forward hoof. Jumping to the top of the bowlder, Pawnee Bill planted himself firmly. An instant more and the slack was taken up. Paw- nee Bill, although badly-jolted, held to his place, and the Sioux cayuse fell, scrambling. Yellow Horse had*had time to gather himself for the shock. As the pony fell, he shot clear of the animal’s back and alighted on his feet on the ground. ' The scout was around the bowlder and upon him. With a fierce whoop, Yellow Horse, who still retained hold of his lance, aimed a vicious blow with it at the scout. _Pawnee Bill gave a yell as he lay back on the rope. At the same moment Buffalo Bill caught the lance and wrested-it out of the chief’s hand. said the scout, dropping be- \ BILE WEERLY. CHAPTER XIII. THE MISSING PRISONER. With the lance in his own hands, Buffalo Bill made use of it as a club. Yellow Horse was reaching for another weapon, when the haft of the lance descended with ter- rific force on his head. The blow staggered him, but his skull was thick, and he kept his feet with the agility of a cat. He was dazed a little, however, and the scout grap- pled with him and bore him down. While they writhed and struggled in the bottom of the pass, the other three redskins had paused, undecided whether to go to their chief’s aid or to remain where they were. Pawnee Bill, having finished his roping, made his way along the reata to the chief’s horse, cast off the noose, and jumped on the animal’s back. Using his spurs, he charged the three warriors, a re- volver in each hand.’ The dashing charge was too much for the braves to withstand. They fired a round with their rifles—a round that was futile—and turned tail and made at speed in the other direction. ee they had delayed retreat too long for their own good. Nahkee, using his head in a way rather surprising in a redskin, had marshaled himself, Crooked Foot, and Spotted. Wolf in the pass below the three Sioux. There was a crack of guns, and one of the Sioux dropped from his pony’s back. The other two, caught between two fires, continued their desperate retreat. One of them got past the Crows. The other was knocked from his horse, and Pawnee Bill came up just in the nick of time to save the man’s life. One reeking scalp had already been snatched from the head of a fallen | warrior, and Crooked Foot and Spotted Wolf ‘were envi- ous and eager to star themselves as Nahkee had done. Under Pawnee Bill’s supervision the captured warrior was bound. His weapons were taken from him by the disappointed Crows, and the prisoner was then. put back on his horse and secured there. The prince of the bowie led the horse and the captive back along the pass to where the king of scouts had just finished roping Yellow Horse. “He gave me a tussle,” remarked the scout, “but I got him. Do you want to save your life, Yellow Horse?” the scout asked. The chief’s reply was a defiant stare. _ “You can keep your scalp,” went on the scout, “if you will tell me where you have put the white squaw.” ao sneering smile crossed the painted visage of the chief. “Kill um Yellow Horse,” said he; “him no tell.”: _There was no doubt that the chief was an altogether different man to deal with than Talk-a-heap. Yellow Horse Placed a light value on his own life, when he came to buying it at what he probably considered the expense of his honor. a Pawnee Bill watched the other brave keenly. He seemed to be vastly interested in the fate of the chief. If Yellow Horse won't speak,” called the prince of the bowie, giving the scout a significant look, “shoot him.” The scout, unable to understand just what the bowie man was trying to get at, nevertheless leveled a revolver at the breast of the prostrate chief. Yellow Horse spat contemptuously at the threatening muzzle. _ “Me no squaw!” he snarled. “Shoot.” The scout, to all appearances, was ready to snuff out the chief's life. At the critical moment, when his finger en flexing on the trigger, the other prisoner gave a shout. “No shoot um!” he cried, squaw. A grim smile crossed Pawnee Bill’s face. That’s about what I thought, necarnis,” said he. “This other buck is more worried about the chief than the chief is about himself. Ha! Listen to that.” Yellow Horse turned loose a torrent of scorching Sioux talk on the warrior. The scout and the bowie man un- derstood a little of the talk, gathering, among other things, that the Sioux brave was named White Panther. - White Panther stolidly withstood the rage of his chief. His determination was in no wise shaken, “Me give um back white : / 1 a ij uw ot Bee eee Sa —— ee ec AN le a Sele he phe f ws PEL NEW BUFFALO “You no kill um Yellow Horse,” said he. to the scout; “me give um back white squaw.” Yellow Horse relapsed into silence. Nahkee came up the pass, just then, flinging the Sioux scalp high, and catching it first in one hand and then in the other. As he juggled with the gruesome relic, he sang the songs of his people for such cases made and provided. Crooked Foot and Spotted Wolf followed behind, one leading the pony of the slain Sioux, and both possessed of the prop- erty stripped® from the dead savage and from the living captive. “Stop that confounded foolishness, Nahkee,” cried the scout, “and bring the other two Crows and the half- breed down here. We're going after the other two pris- oners. ° ; Nahkee tucked-the scalp carefully under his belt; then started up the slope. The other two, leaving the pony be- hind, followed him. Presently they reappeared on their mounts, with the other two Crows, and descended into the pass. While they were gone, the two Bills had been lifting Yellow Horse to his pony’s back and tying him there. When the party again started, they were top-heavy with prisoners. There were three, leaving two men to guard each one and the scout to ride on ahead. White Panther, in the lead, was showing the way. They left the pass, turned north, and finally came te a creek which flowed toward the Missouri. This creek was bordered with trees, and a tumble-down cabin, which had evidently belonged on a time to some venturesome trap- per, proved to be their destination. As White Panther led the way to the ruinous old hut, something like surprise tugged at his swarthy face. Evi- dently something had happened which he could not un- derstand. Both the pards noticed his preoccupied manner. “What’s the trouble, Panther?” asked Pawnee Bill. | “No savvy um,” was the reply; “heap no cumtux. White squaw here while ago; no here now.. Ugh!” “She was here, was she?” : SoA. The scout rode to the door opening of the old cabin and dismounted. Before the door were footprints—moc- casin prints and the marks of small shoes. The marks of a man’s shoes could also be seen. It was all extremely puzzling. Disaappearing inside the cabin, the scout made a hasty search for clews. He found none. “Find out anything, necarnis?” asked Pawnee Bill, as the scout reappeared. : “Not a thing, inside the hut,” was the answer, “but here, at the door, are tracks a-plenty. Miss Holcomb has been here, and there were Sioux guards to look after her. Some white man has been here, too, for the prints of his boots overlay the other marks. Here, too, are the hoofmarks—a trifle faint, because the ground is harder where the horses stood. I can’t make anything out of it, Pawnee, except this: The girl has been taken away.” “If the footprints of the white man overlay those of the reds, then he must have been here later—probably after the reds got away with the girl.” This from Pawnee Bill, after a brief reflection. “Who that white man was I haven’t the least notion,” frowned the scout. While he was still standing beside his horse and pon- dering, a thump of hoofs from near at hand, suggestive of horses suddenly spurred to action, burst suddenly on the ears of himself, Pawnee Bill, and the Crows. The clash of hoofs was followed by shrill whoops. | “The Sioux!” roared Pawnee Bill; “they’re jumping us!” : 5s Miewit 1!” screeched the Crows; “‘coo-ley!” (Get up! run! The scout vaulted into his saddle. A flashing look around him disclosed painted forms hurling themselves out of timber on all sides. To get clear, cross the creek, and reach more open ground was the one thing to do. “Cast loose the prisoners!” he shouted. for your lives!” There could be no escape, handicapped by an attempt to take away the prisoners. The scout realized this on the instant, and hence his order to set the captives adrift. “After me— het iat ge cto tment We tte gs Alean at Se ee ee ee BILL WEEKLY. 17 Knives slashed the ropes. There was little firing on the part of the charging redskins, presumably from the fact that they were afraid of injuring their chief, Yellow Horse. The scout, discovering this backwardness in using firearms, instantly divined the cause. Catching the chief’s horse by the riding thong, the scout bore away. Pawnee Bill and the Crows surged after him. “Cross the creek, Pawnee!” the scout shouted. “Take the Crows across the creek. I'll be with you in less than half an hour.” y The scout, after this command, galloped away from the creek, and back over the ground recently traversed when White Panther was doing the guiding. . All the Sioux took after him, just as he had supposed they would, hoping to get back their captured chief. And still they refrained from using their guns. For a few minutes the scout kept his lead; then, when the chief’s cayuse began to fall back, he let go the horse and spurred at a headlong gallop into a small opening between two hills. The Indians were still after him, but with Bear Paw between his knees the scout felt perfectly safe. He rounded the farther side of one of the hills, re- gained the creek, slashed across, and found Pawnee Bill and the Crows waiting for him. : Fee oa out our prisoners,’ said the bowie man rue- ully. “But we've saved our scalps, for now,’ answered the scout. “Point your caballos the other way.” . “Where to?” he pocket. We'll see if that’s as empty as the cabin.” CHAPTER XIV. NEWT JERSON. All the while the pards and their Crow aids had been following the pass, and then the lead of White Pan- ther to the cabin, they had been steadily advancing in the direction of the rocky slope where Pawnee Bill and the Crows had discovered the pocket. ue Now, once across the creek, only a short. gallop lay between them and the place where, earlier in the day, Jer- son and his. Sioux guards had been discovered. - “Was that a trap that Sioux buck led ts into?” asked the. bowie man. “It was a trap, all right, but I don’t believe the buck knew it at the time,” answered the scout. . “Perhaps the reds had the girl with them?” The scout shook his head. “Tt don’t seem reasonable to me, pard,”’ said he. “If the reds had had the girl, and they had wanted to: make the trap complete, they’d have left her in the cabin.” — “That’s so,” returned the bowie man. ‘But where in Sam Hill is Miss Holcomb?” “That’s too much of a conundrum for me. Those boot- prints, overlaying the moccasin tracks, may be the key to the mystery. I’m hoping the girl has been rescued by some stray white man. Jerson is the one that now con-. cerns us.” “Well, Jerson ought to be right ahead. There’s the slope, and halfway up the slope is the pocket. You can’t see it from here, as it’s a sort of sink.” “If there are any reds there watching him,’ observed ‘the scout, “we'll probably hear from them on our way up the slope.” “They'll make themselves heard, all right.” The eminence in whose side the pocket was located was not of any considerable height. Pawnee Bill led the way up. Although the pards expected some concealed marks- man to open fire at any moment, they were happily dis- appointed. Not a bullet was launched at them. “An-pe-tu-we!” muttered Pawnee Bill. “If we get there and find an empty pocket a “Tt can’t be that that sort of luck is going to keep with us,” protested the scout. “This, run of affairs is due to change.” They came upon the rim of the pocket almost as sud- denly as they had been brought up short by the rim of the cafion. And it was certainly a pocket—no other word could describe it. It was a depression, circular in form and measuring SRT Nek esting: epthcn mien AR acs a niece te team react ed A ay pe SP Sra cada tay 5 eimai sR ek ooh apes Ue ab oh chante 18 INEW BUFFALO é ‘perhaps fifteen feet across. Its slopes, from rim to bot- ‘tom, were gradual, and its depth, in the center, must have ‘been about a dozen feet. » What was more to the purpose, in the very center of the pocket lay Newt Jerson, Close to him was his hob- bled: horse. “Hello, thar!” shouted Jerson. “1 thort ye was reds when I heerd ye comin’, an’ thet’s why I didn’t tune up. Say, hurry an’ git these hyer ropes offfn me. I’m plumb paralyzed with ’em.” Leaving the Crows just inside the pocket, heads above the rim, the Bills hurried down to the. guide. “We're mighty glad to find you uninjured, Jerson,” ‘said the scout. ‘Where are the reds who were taking care of you?” “They left hyer not more’n an hour ago. painted varmint come erlong an’ hollered to ’em. jumped their cayuses an’ made off at a rush.” “It. must have been the red who got away from wus in the pass, necarnis,” remarked Pawnee Bill. “He’s respon- sible for that: trap at the cabin.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” answered the scout, busily cut- ting the cords that secured Jerson’s hands. -As soon as his hands were free, Jerson’ sat up and began working his arms up and down. -. “Ain't got no more feelin’ in ’em than as though they was plumb wool,” he grumbled. :‘‘Say,’ he added, as the scout began freeing his feet,. “ye ain’t see nothin’ o’ ther gal, Bev yer. see : SNo.” ie , : : : ' “Blast ther measly luck!” scowled Jerson. “I dunno how ‘I’m ever goin’ ter show up at Benton an’ report what's: happened. -I’d ruther the reds would er hipped me; yes, | would. . Thet Miss Holcomb was er fine gal, Tm ‘tellin’ ye, an’ she was goin’ ter Benton ter marry Cap'n. Hollis.. I know Hollis, an’ I don’t reckon he’ll-ever fergive me fer lettin’ this happen.” a -: “You couldn’t help- what happened,” said the scout. “I> was too-blame’ easy, takin’ some un else’s word fer it thet thar wa’n’t no. hosstyle reds between Custer an’ Benton. It was my bizness ter look out fer thet. Oh, I ain’t never goin’ ter fergive myself. Seen anythin’ 0’ ther: Dutchman??? «<: uh “We found him and. let him loose.” ane “Good enough! Whar is he?” Pawnee Bill proceeded to explain how the baron had been rescued and had taken fight up the cafion rather than abandon his mule. sa Jerson listened attentively while the bowie man brought his recital on down to the cabin, to the skirmish with the Sioux, and to the run to the pocket. Hes : “Somiebody hes shore saved thet gal!” declared Jerson. “That’s what we're hoping,” returned the scout. “Et looks ter me like er cinch. I’m a heap relieved, I kin tell ye. In a case like this hyer, oncertainty is er heap better’n not knowing anythin’ at all.”* : “You were kept in the cave all night?” “Thet’s ther how o’ it, Buffler Bill. Me an’ the gal an’ the Dutchman was herded in thet cave till sunup, then the gal an’ me was took away on our hosses. I dunno whar ther. gal was took, kase the party o’ bucks thet had her separated from the gang thet had me. From what ye jest said, she must ’a’ been took ter thet ole cabin 0’ mine.” \ “Your cabin, eh?’ “Shore, only I ain’t lived in et fer a dozen y’ars, Thar used ter be plenty o’ mink an’ otter up an’ down thet crick, but I skinned ’em out and then I moved. I been hyer in this sink in the hill all day, an’ it’s some hot, I’m tellin’ ye, when the sun’s right overhead.” .“T should think so.” “Injuns never pestered me none. _ goin’ ter, howsumever.” Jerson got, up and stamped his feet. _“Ye ain’t got no idee how fine it feels ter hev the use Some other They T reckoned they was 0’ yerself arter hein’ trussed up fer a spell,” he remarked. “I’m feelin’ er heap like myself ag’in. If I had my guns, Id be all right; an’ if I could know thet gal was safe, out o’ them Injuns’ clutches, I reckon 1 could bu’st loose in song,” |. _Jerson, in order to restore circulation to his numbed feet, began running circles around the bottom of the BILL WEEKLY. pocket. At last he halted beside his horse, knelt down, and began removing the hobbles. ee ‘We're plumb ter the good, this animile an’ me,” he observed. “I’m obleeged ter the reds fer leavin’ the hoss. They went erway in sich a tarnal hurry I don’t reckon they had time ter think o’ takin’ ther hoss with ’em. If 1 was ter make a wish, I’d——” Nahkee turned away from the rim of the pocket, just then, and threw an excited look at the king of scouts. ‘*Pa-e-has-ka!’ he called. “What's the trouble, Nahkee?” answered the scout. “Flat weaver, all same hat-weaver squaw, run all same jack rabbit. Whoosh!” ; “Hat weaver’ was another name for paleface. The announcement of Nahkee was énough to carry the pards and Jerson up:the slope at a run. © Looking over the rim, they saw something that caused their pulses to leap. The baron, on his mule, was sliding .across the land- scape from the direction of the creek. As if this were not enough to surprise the pards and Jerson, at the baron’s side rode a white woman! “Gosh all Friday!” boomed Jerson; “thar’s Miss Hol- comb right now! Say, wouldn’t this hyar put crimps in yore ha’r? She's sailin’ erlong side an’ side with ther ~ Dutchman !” “It was the baron who rescued her from the cabin!” exclaimed Pawnee Bill. “Not a doubt of it,’ exulted the scout; “and, with all our figuring, we never suspected the baron!” ye “That’s another ‘time he’s turned one of his fancy tricks,” went on the bowie man, with a laugh. “Not only did he get away from the Sioux in the. cafion, but he happened to find that cabin and save Miss Holcomb.” ~~ “Like enough the reds as was guardin’ Miss Holcomb was called off same as was the reds thet was guardin’ me,” suggested Jerson. “Anyways, I’d like ter grip ther ans hand. Why’re they tearin’ erlong at ‘sich ér gait?” We ae a | “Cutthroats!” whooped Crooked Foot excitedly. “On-she-ma-da!” muttered Pawnee Bill, staring. , ““The Crow’s right, necarnis. Look! The Sioux are just break- ing out of the timber in the creek bottom. They're after the baron and the oir ae “And Yellow Horse is leading them!” cried the scout. “We got ter do suthin’,” growled Newt Jerson. “My con stands between them two an’ capter, I kin tell ye thet’ “We'll get the two of them over here,” said the scout, hoisting himself out of the pocket. “Come up, pards, — and help me yell.” ra All three of the white men raised themselves out of the pocket and began to wave their hats and to shout. Evi- dently the baron and .the girl heard them, for they turned their mounts in the direction of the slope and came hustling on. “This hyer ain’t no place ter stand off er lot er reds,” grumbled Jerson. “Thar ain’t no water, ner nothin’. The varmints kin git up above us, on top o’ ther rise, an’ pepper us with bullets. They kain’t reach us from below, but they shore kin from above.” “This is the only holding ground anywhere around here, Jerson,” returned the scout, sweeping his eyes over the surrounding country; “so it’s this or nothing.” The baron and the girl reached the foot of the slope, and began climbing. The Sioux, with fierce yells, let fly a volley at them, but the distance was too great and the bullets fell short. A few minutes later the fugitives. galloped over the rim of the pocket and the girl fell, exhausted, into the arms of Pawnee Bill. CHAPTER XV . HOLCOMB’S DETACH MENT. “Hoop-a-la!” jubilated the baron. “Meppeso I don’d vas a shlick feller, eh? Look vat I ditt I found Miss Flolcomb, py shinks, und I pring her to Puffalo Pill und der resdt oof der bards; Vell, vell!’” went on the baron, as his eyes fell on the guide, “und dere iss Cherson, oder I vas some greasers! Say, Cherson, ve vas all togedder NEW BUFFALO again, nicht wahr? Only ve don’d vas in der hants oof der Sioux.” “We'll be in ther hands o’ ther Sioux ef some fightin’ ain't done purty quick,” growled Jerson. “An’ hyer’s me, without no gun ner nothin’. Them thar reds took all my Beco irons. All I kin do is ter fight with my bare Sts “Here,” said the scout, handing him a revolver. “I'll get along with one. If we come to close quarters, Jer- oe you ought to be able to make a fair showing with that.” “Shore I kin.” At the rim of the pocket the Crows were watching the maneuvers of the Sioux with gleaming eyes. The lust for combat and scalps had been whetted in those Absa- roke guides, that day.. Four of them were without trophies, and each of the four had his eyes on a Sioux scalp lock. Miss Holcomb was only exhausted from her hard ride. She had not fainted. Pawnee Bill lowered her gently to the ground. “J—I thought we were gone,’ she murmured. “Oh, what an ordeal I have gone through.” “Tt must have been hard on you, Miss Holcomb,” said the bowie man; “but you're safe now.” “You are from the fort?” she asked, looking up. “From Benton, yes. I am Pawnee Bill, and this is my pard Buffalo Bill, Those Indians up there are friendly Crows who are with us. We came to find you.” “Buffalo Bill!” The girl struggled to her feet and held out her hand to the dashing scout. He took the little hand chivalrously. “At your service, Miss Holcomb,” said he. “You have already done much for me, Buffalo Bill; you and your pards. I mean,” and she flushed rosily, “in helping Captain Hollis as you have done you must know that you have put me in your debt.” “I suppose so,” smiled the scout, “for I have talked with your brother, and you and Hollis were the subjects of our conversation. You are well after your -trying ordeal ?” “Yes, well, but awfully tired.” “My Dutch pard took you from the cabin on the creek 27 “Yes. I was taken there, early this morning, from that cave in the cafion. Two of the redskins were left to guard me and see that I did not escape. Another red- skin came, about two Hours ago, and called the two guards away. They left at once, after coming in and making sure that my bonds were secure. A little while after that the baron arrived. He released me, caught up my horse, put on saddle and bridle, and we started for Fort Benton. Just as we were crossing the creek, we discovered that the Indians were after us. I was almost ready to give up when we saw you on this hillside, beckoning us to join you. But how is my brother? And how is Captain Hol- lis ean } “Both well and hearty,’ returned the scout; “and all that remains to make the captain stfpremely happy is to learn that you are safe.” “Which captain?” she asked slyly. : “Holcomb. Hollis doesn’t know anything about your coming to Benton. Your brother is keeping him in the dark, so as to surprise him.” . “T bed you I dit a fine t’ing,” spoke up the baron, “ven I vent to dot cabin on der grick. I vanted to shtop a vile, und it looked like a goot blace. Den, ven I vent insite, py shinks, dere vas Miss Holcomb, all tied oop mit ropes.” “How did you get out of that cafion, pard?” asked the scout. “T don’d know nodding aboudt dot. I schust rote und rote, und pympy I vas oudt oof der ganyon und dere vas no Inchuns. ‘ foundt Miss Holcomb, und dot’s all aboudt it.” “Better come up hyer, pards,” called Jerson, from the' rim of the pocket. “Ther Sioux aire gwine ter make er surround, ome of ’em aire climbin’ fer ther top 0’ ther rise,” : Leaving the girl and the horses in the bottom ofthe pocket, the pards made haste to climb to the side of the guide. Den I saw der grick und der gabin, und ~ ise DEAT sa LE a ea Raper TA DILT WEiRiyY. 19 The Sioux—and there were twenty-five or thirty of them—were spreading out so that they could command all sides of the pocket. Half a dozen were climbing the slope, well beyond the pocket, in order to reach the top a the uplift and be able to throw a drop fire into the asin. “Things aire goin’ ter be too hot hyer fer any use, in erbout er minit,” remarked Newt Jerson grimly. “I don’t keer a whoop fer myself, but I don’t want thet gal ter git hurt.” The scout, swerving his eyes swiftly from point to point, figured on the chances of escape. “When those reds get to the top of the rise,” said he, “we'll mount our horses and make a dash down the ae If the reds below get in our way, we'll ride over them.” “That’s the only thing to do,” agreed Pawnee Bill. “We've got to look after the girl.” “Stand to your horses, Absarokes!” the scout called to the red scouts. “We’re going to get out of here in a few minutes, and we’re going a-humming.” The scout whirled to start down into the basin to ex- plain matters to the girl. Before he could leave the rim, Pawnee Bill caught his arm. “No use, pard,” said the bowie man quietly. “Look toward the. north.” The scout turned back and leveled a glance in the direc- ae of the Missouri. What he saw caused his blood to eap. Holcomb was coming! Holcomb and his picked de- tachment! And with Holcomb were Wild Bill, Nomad, and Cayuse! The Sioux discovered the reénforcements almost as soon as the pards had seen them. At once all offensive preparations were given over. The redskins began streak- ing down the slope, and those at the bottom of the slope . goaded their ponies at top speed in the direction of the creek. “Whoop-ya!” howled Jerson, climbing out of the pocket and doing a war dance on the slope; “see ’em skedaddle! Oh, kain’t they run? An’, ain't thet jest like er lot o’ cowardly skunks, thet won’t fight onless they outnumber ye three ter one? Whoop-ya!” Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill likewise showed. them- selves. As for the’Crows, they swung to their ponies, and, with fierce yells, started’ down the slope, bent on securing more scalps. ‘ Holcomb, seeing the pards and Jerson on the slope, left Wild Bill and Nomad to head the pursuit while he rode up to the pocket. His face was still haggard with worry as he reined in his horse. “Cody,” he asked huskily, “here’s Jerson, but where’s my sister?” “Charlie! Charlie!” came a glad cry from the depths of the pocket. That voice was enough. Holcomb flung himself from the saddle and ran down into the basin. There he gath- ered his sister in his arms. “Heap fine!” exclaimed Pawnee Bill. “Eh, necarnis?” “We've won out, by good luck and with the baron’s help,” answered Buffalo Bill. “Great Scott, see how those Sioux are running!” The redskins certainly ran well, but not all of them got away. While the scout stood on the rim and watched, he saw Wild Bill overhaul the fleeing Yellow Horse. For a minute there was a spirited struggle on horseback; and then Wild Bill, with a dexterous move, yanked the wily savage clean from his pony and onto his own horse. Just then Little Cayuse rode up, and, with his help, the Laramie man bound the struggling chief. The scout had time for no more, for just at that juncture Holcomb came up out of the pocket with his sister. “Cody, your hand!” cried Holcomb. is about the happiest day of my life.” The scout took the captain’s palm and pressed it cor- dially. “Youll have to thank our Dutch pard for your sis- ter’s rescue,” said he. “T reckon this “T’ye already done that, Cody,” returned the captain, - “but your Dutch pard says he couldn’t have rescued Mary NEW BUFFALO "90 if he hadn’t first been rescuec himself. You and Paw- nee Bill, he says, did that.” “The baron’s side-stepping a little,” laughed the scout. “I’m watching the reds. Most of them will get away, but my pard Wild Bill has captured Yellow Horse.” ; -“That’s the second time to-day,” chipped in the bowie man. “Have you had him in your hands before?” : “Yes, both Yellow Horse and Talk-a-heap. Pard Bill nabbed Talk-a-heap at Cheyenne Hill. That was a fine play, and the way the scout carried it off saved the day for all of us,” “T must hear about that later.” The captain mounted his horse and rode down to take a part in what was going on. An hour served to wind up the scrimmage, and the re- sult was three prisoners captured—as luck would have it, Yellow Horse, Talk-a-heap, and White Panther—and a few wounded Indians who were got away by the rest of the. Sioux. Wild Bill and Nomad came whooping up the slope to the pocket, after seeing that the prisoners had been turned over to the troopers. “Buffler,’” shouted the old trapper, “what ye got ter say fer yerself, pullin’ out without ever sayin’ a word ter the rest o’ us? Sufferin’ catermounts! We jest got in in time ter ride this way with Holcomb an’ his troopers. Ef ye’d waited er spell, we’d all hev. been with you an’ Pawnee an’ them Crow scouts.” “We couldn’t wait, old pard,”’ answered the scout; “there wasn’t time.” “I reckon not.” The trapper turned to the guide and grabbed his hand. ‘Newt, ye ole cimiroon,” he shouted, “T ain't seen ye fer a coon’s age.” “No more ye ain't,’ answered Jerson, “but I’m the same ole sixpence, Nick.” “Ye look et, ole rawhide. over ole times.” ane And the two trappers were still talking when they were summoned to get their horses and ride for Benton with the rest of the returning party. Le’s go off some’r’s an’ talk CHAPTER XVL CONCLUSION. The return journey to Benton was made at a leisurely pace and through the gathering dusk. Holcomb rode with the scout at the head of the troopers. Behind them came Pawnee Bill, Miss Holcomb, and the baron. Along through the ranks of the regulars were scattered Wild Bili, No- mad, and Cayuse. In the rear were the Crows, still with only the one scalp, but with plenty of other glory. The three prisoners rode in the midst of the troopers. “Hollis came up from the cantonment with your pards about noon,’ said Holcomb to the scout. Lae he find out what had happened?” asked Buffalo Ti. “No, we kept it from him. I feared the effect the news might have. When he saw the detachment ride away, he was anxious to know what was up, but I got away with- out explaining.” “I reckon he’d be pretty near crazy if he learned that your sister had been captured by the Sioux.” “It would be a terrible blow to him. Of course, he may hear of it. If he does——” The captain’s voice died away into silence.. What was on his own mind was also on the scout’s. The post doctor had said that Hollis must be dealt with carefully for some time, and that any sudden shock to his freshly awakened reason might cause a relapse. The news that Mary Holcomb had been captured by the hostile Sioux might have proved to be such a shock, and there was still the chance, as Holcomb had said, that Hollis would learn tie dréad news and the reason for the expedition that had left the fort. _ Lhe happiness of two young people depended upon the issue. Halfway to the fort, and while the long file of troopers and other riders were forging onward through the gloom of the timber, a shadowy horseman galloped up in BILL) WEEKLY. front of the scout and Holcomb. He drew in his heavily breathing mount with a hard pull. “Holcomb!” he shouted. “Is that you?” PY es Hols.’ It was the captain racing from the post. The news had reached him, then. How had he taken it? The scout remained eagerly attentive to what followed. “What success have you had?” demanded Hollis. “The very best, Gene,” answered Holcomb. ‘‘There’s’ no cause for worry.” : “Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Hollis. “It was my right to ride with you.” “We didn’t want to worry you.” “T have a right to share your worry, haven’t I? But where is Mary?” : A dusky figure rode clear of the column and drew to a halt at Hollis’ side. “Gene!” called a soft voice. With a cry. of joy Hollis leaned from his saddle and clasped his sweetheart in his arms. What troubles had been borne and overcome since those two had last met and parted! Hollis, unjustly accused of a terrible crime, had been able to prove his innocence; then, when the disgrace had worn upon his mind and unhinged his reason, by a miracle, almost, his reason had been restored. Now, at the last, the hostile Sioux, who had been mixed in all Hollis’ troubles, had finally made a captive of Mary Hol- comb—and it was the greatest and the bitterest sorrow Hollis had had to bear. Mary Holcomb, however, had been rescued, and now, at last, the lovers were together. And in all this play of justice and injustice, of treachery and red hostility, Buffalo Bill and his pards had borne their full part. To them, more than to any one else, Mary Holcomb and Gene Hollis owed their present hap- piness. “He has borne the shock, Cody,” whispered Holcomb, through the gloom, “and borne it like a man. There need be no fear for Hollis in the future.” “I think not,” said the scout. ‘This is certainly a happy ending to what might very easily have been a ter- rible calamity.” “You're right; and it is to you and your pards that Mary and Gene owe everything.” The scout deprecated the captain’s words, but Miss eee and Captain Hollis evidently thought with Hol- comb. They came to the scout, as he sat his horse beside Hol- comb, and tendered him and his pards their thanks. “There’s going to be .a wedding to-morrow, Gene,” laughed Captain Holcomb, “and I have been trying to in- duce the scout and his pards to stay for it.” “They must stay!” declared Mary Holcomb. “You will, won’t you, Buffalo Bill?” : The scout laughed. “IT wonder if that boat went down river this morning?” “No, Buffalo Bill,’ returned Hollis; “and it is not going until to-morrow noon. We'll have the wedding in the morning, just so you and your pards will be with us.” “I vouldn’t go vay mitoudt seeing dot vedding for no money vat anypody has got,” piped the baron. “I t’ought I vould haf a vedding meinseluf, down here in Arizona, aber der laty in der gase marrit der odder feller——” _ A roar of laughter came from every one within hear- ing. : “Shtop dot!” yelled the baron. “I don’d got some re- folfers, aber I vill rememper who laughs ad me, und dere vill be droubles vone oof dose tays. It vas a serious pitz- ness for der paron, gedding durned down py der laty in Arizona. Dot’s all aboudt it.” ie There was joy at Benton that night when the detach- ment rode in with the rescued prisoners. Colonel Weath- erby took Mary Holcomb into his own house, and his wife and daughters ministered to her comfort. . On the colonel’s front porch, while the post drowsed in slumber, the colonel, Holcomb, Hollis, the scout, and : his pards sat late, talking over the whirl of events that | had characterized that most exciting day. } “Cody,” said the colonel, when they finally bade each other good night, “you and your pards have done a good many big things in your gallant labors through the West, .but you can depend upon it you never did a bigger’ thing 4 NEW BUFFALO than this piece of work just finished. I think that it is to you and your brave companions entirely that the Sioux troubles, which-threatened dire things to this part of the country, have been settled so swiftly and so thoroughly. As for Hollis, he owes you much, and | think he knows i" p n “He does,” spoke up Hollis, with feeling, “and he will never forget it.” * * * * 2 * * There was a wedding at the post next morning, and the scout and his pards were there. They’ were among the first to felicitate the bride and groom after the ceremony was finished. Later, standing on the deck of the General Crook, their horses and all their paraphernalia loaded, they waved good-by to a throng that had assembled on the wharf to see them off to new duties at Fort Meade. A turn hid the wharf from: view, at last, and Buffalo A ee away to hunt a chair on the shady side of the deck, “Are you satisfied with that whirlwind rush that fin- ished our work at Benton, necarnis?” inquired Pawnee Bill, following the scout. “Entirely so, Pawnee,’ Buffalo Bill answered. “The happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Hollis was alone worth all it cost us,” “My opinion to a T,” said Pawnee Bill. THE END. In “Buffalo Bill’s Opium Case; or, Pawnee Bill and the Sheriff’s Frame-up,” you will find the king of scouts and his pards in a new field. Great operations in the opium-smuggling trade are carried on along the Mexican border, and the pards start out to break up one of the many outfits of desperate men engaged in that illicit work. The baron takes a hand in the game, and makes a ten- strike in his real old-fashioned way. The installment of the serial now running in this pub- lication will be one of the most absorbing so far. The many interesting special articles are of the kind you cannot afford to miss. They’re all in No. 260, out next week, on September Ist. LOST IN THE DESERT: Or, Merciful Toward His Enemy. By EDWARD C. TAYLOR. (This interesting story began in New BuFrraLo BILL WEEELY No. 251. If you have not read the preceding chapters, get the back numbers which you have missed from your news dealer. If he cannot supply you with them the publishers will do so.) CHAPTER XIX. TED STRONG'S DARING, Ted grasped the situation in an instant. He heard a great splashing and a wild neighing from the horse which Kit rode. Then he heard Kit’s despairing yell for help. The next instant there was a snort of terror from the horse, and Kit went splash over its head. A moment later he appeared above the water. His face was as pale as death, and he struggled frantically with his hands to keep above water. : vig “Keep your horses away from here, boys!” he yelled. “There’s a quicksand here. I’m caught in it, and my horse is caught in it. I can feel it sucking me down and down.” : ' : “Jumpin’ sand hills!” cried Bud; “I ain’t got no lariat ter this saddle. .Ted, have you got one?” The young range rider did not answer. Already he had taken the coil of his lariat from his saddle pommel and was stringing it out in his hand. : _ “Quick!” Kit called to him, in a faint voice; “I’m sink- ing in this mud!” : ‘ “Sling a lariat round the horse, Ben,” said Ted, in a steady, even voice. “There isn’t much time to lose. It will be below the surface in a moment.” BILL: WEEKLY. 21 At the same time Ted swung his own lariat around his head and threw it. It went out in a great sweep, opening wide in a noose as it sailed through the air. Splash! It struck the water, sending up spouts of moisture in a complete circle around the head of Kit Summers, which was all of him that appeared above the surface by this time. It seemed to Kit that the lariat had floated away from him, for, with wildly groping fingers, he had reached far it in all directions, and had not been able to grasp it. He could see the bank no longer nor the figure of Ted Strong. aay water was bubbling in his ears, it was over his head, then—— d He felt something tighten under his arms about his body. His head was below water now, and he was holding his breath, although it seemed as if his head and chest must burst. But a great throb of joy ran through his heart, for he knew that Ted had caught him in the noose of his lariat under the arms. Tighter and tighter it drew. Then for a moment Kit felt as if he were about to be pulled apart. The lariat was pulling him through the water, upward and to the bank, and the quicksand, which was up about his legs by this time, was dragging him back, back, and down like some octopus which had caught him in its tentacles. For a moment it seemed as if the cord would break, and Kit felt as though his legs would be pulled off. Then he came up through the switling water. He was on the surface now, and being dragged along like a fish at the end of a line. Then he was tumbling and splashing headfirst through shallow water, and then he was lying on the bank, high and dry, breathless and ex- hausted, but saved. As soon as the lariat had been thrown, Ted had wheeled and turned his horse up the bank. The wide noose had caught a human fish in its grasp, and the cord held, and Kit was dragged up out of the quicksand by the tough little pony which Ted was riding. Kit had little time to lie on’ the bank, for a second later he heard Ted’s voice ringing in his ears. “Set free that lariat’! We need it for this horse!” In a half daze Kit loosened the rope and passed it up over his head. It was jerked away in an instant. Kit had been for a moment half stupefied by his experience. He now dragged himself to his feet and looked at what was going on. Bud and Ben and Ted were engaged in an effort to - free his horse from the quicksand in which it was bogged. . The horse had sunk so low that only its head was visible above the surface. Ben Tremont had made a cast with a lariat and fastened it around the animal’s head. Then he spurred up the bank. But he could not budge the horse. It had been caught too firmly in the quicksand. Ted immediately hauled in his own lariat, and passed the end of it to Bud. “lm going out there,” he said; “you pay it out to me. The only way is to swim out there and fasten that to the legs of the horse, one by one. You can free them one after the other that way, and then we can throw the horse on its side. It won’t sink quickly, and we can drag it out before the quicksand has a good grip on it again.” “Tumpin’ sand hills, Ted!” exclaimed Bud. “Ther dan- ger! You'll get caught in thar sure as. yer put a foot ter ther ground.” “But ’m not going to put a foot to the ground,” said Ted coolly; “the water’s a pretty good depth where that horse is. I’m going to swim. You wind the end of the lariat around your saddle horn.” “T’ve done it,’ said Bud. ‘“What’s next?” “You and Ben keep your eye on me, and, when I signal, both pull away, driving your horses up the bank.” The leader of the range riders was as cool and col- lected as if this quicksand experience by moonlight were an everyday affair. Already he was off his horse and had thrown his jacket and leggins onto the ground. He kicked off his shoes and darted dowr toward the water in his blue shirt and tight-fitting khaki riding breeches. Splash! He went into it headfirst, and swam out to- ward the struggling horse in the water. He held the end of his own lariat in his teeth, and he swept through the water at racing speed. When he reached the side of the 22 horse he whirled about and seemed to leap into the air. Then he dived down, headfirst. The moonlight sent a sort of amber light through the greenish flood, and Ted kept his eyes open as he dived. He could see the hoofs of the horse driven down into the waxy black mud at the bottom as the current carried him downstream. He went around the horse under water, and, when he”came up, the rope was fastened around one of the animal’s forelegs. Then he came up again, but it was only to get breath, for he did not signal to Bud and Ben, who were watching from the bank. : While he remained swimming on the surface, he rap- idly unloosed the coil of Ben’s lariat from the animal’s neck. There was no time to lose. Taking a deep breath, he dived again. When he came up the second time it was after a long stay under water, and he came up consider- ably farther down the stream than the place where the horse was. He had been fastening the other lariat around the other foreleg of the horse, and had to delve into the waxy mud of the quicksand to do_so. In the meantime, Bud and Ben and Kit had been watch- ing for his appearance with bated breath. The seconds during which he remained underneath the surface seemed hours to them, and they had almost given him up for lost when his head shot into view. He did not wait to swim back to the side of the horse, but waved one arm wildly to the boys on the bank. “Pull!” he yelled. Like automatons Ben, on his horse, and Bud, on his burro, wheeled around and started back from the stream. “Stop!” yelled Ted, and they came to a standstill. Ted was doing daring work in the stream, but he could not have had two steadier, cooler, or abler assistants than Bud Morgan and Ben Tremont. Although they fully ap- preciated the risk that Ted was taking, they did not let their anxiety interfere with their coolness or collected- ness for an instant. The two forelegs of the animal were now dragged out of the mud and held up by the lariats. ; “Ease off!” called out Ted, swimming over toward the orse. A moment later one of the lariats\ was off, and Ted dived again. He came up soon this time, having fastened it about the off hind leg of the-horse. “Pull!” he cried. “Ease off!” Another leg was freed from the quicksand, and at the same time Ted hurled himself with all his force against the shoulder of the horse. This threw it over on its side and prevented it from striking out and having its hoofs caught in the quicksand once more. Like lightning Ted worked, loosening up the two lariats. Then he dived, and came up weak and breathless. He could not call out, but he waved his arm. Bud and Ben drove up on the bank, and all four legs of the anirnal were free. It was now on its side, sinking into the quicksand once more, but sinking slowly. Ted was out of breath. His heart was beating like a trip hammer, his chest felt as though it would burst. He was longing to get ashore and throw himself on the bank, but he knew that if the horse were to be saved he must not give up yet. Once more he dived, and when he came up he was exhausted, but both lariats were passed about the animal’s haunches and neck. “Haul away!” yelled Ted, with his last breath, and a moment later the horse was dragged out, saved. “a Ted was so tired out that he could scarcely swim ashore, but he had the satisfaction of seeing the horse he had rescued get up and shake itself, none the worse for its experience in the quicksand. Half an hour later the young roughrider was drying his clothes before a blazing camp fire, on which a pot of coffee was sizzling. The boys made a good supper that night, after having staked out the horses and mules near by. It was so cool that they all had ravenous appetites, and, as for thirst, they had no reason for suffering from that now, for they went to sleep with the liquid music of Ceriso Creek sound- ing in their ears. When Ted awoke the next morning the first object that met his eyes was a tall redskin, wrapped in a blanket, who was standing a little distance off, looking silently at the camp of the four cowboys with bright, shifting eyes. Ted knew that he was in the country of the Shoshones, NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. and knew that he was likely to see some of the tribe at any time, but he had not expected to see one of them so early in the morning. With an exclamation of astonish- ment that awakened his comrades, he threw back his blanket and leaped to his feet. The Indian, who was tall and slightly bent, smiled when he saw the surprise of the young range rider. He dropped a corner of his blanket, exposing a bare, muscu- lar shoulder and arm. Then he reached out his hand to’ Ted. “How are you?” he said in perfectly good English. . “T am glad to see you.” Ted gasped with surprise, and looked at this Indian again, for he certainly had not expected such a greeting from him. The Indian was well over six feet high, spare, muscular, and slightly bent. His hair, which hung down his back in two braids, was as black as night, but he was evidently old, for his face was covered with wrinkles, carved deeply into the skin by the wind and weather of many seasons spent in the open air. His face was big and broad and flat, as the faces of most Indians are, but there was a kindly, steady look in his beady black eyes. which Ted rather liked. Ted glanced around to see if this redskin had any companions, but he saw none. He held out his hand. “I am well,” he said. “We have just crossed the desert, following the water sign carved: on the rock. My name is Ted Strong, and my companions and I were lost in the Death Valley and came here to find water.” “This Shoshone land,” said the Indian, looking around him; “no white men come here often. I medicine man of tribe—Winnenap is my name. The camp is there.” Winnenap waved a skinny hand over toward a clump of trees on Ted’s right, from which Ted could now see emerging a column of blue smoke, which marked the place of an Indian camp fire. “IT walked out here in the morning to pick herbs,” said the medicine man, “and I find camp of paleface.” Ted saw that this medicine man was a rather intelligent fellow, and decided that it would be a good move to get on the right side of him if he wished to avoid trouble with the Shoshones, through whose country he must travel. _ He invited him to stay for breakfast, which invitation the Indian received by grunting in a satisfied manner and squatting down on the ground. _Bud Morgan lost no time in starting a fire and get- ting breakfast ready, and in the meantime Kit and Ben and Ted squatted on the ground and conversed with Winnenap. They found that the medicine man had lived farther north at one of the Piute Indian agencies, and there learned to speak English fairly well, and had ac- quired some of the rudiments of a white man’s educa- tion. Then he had come farther south again, to his own country, and had been accepted by his tribe, owing to his learning, as a medicine man. Winnenap, having told these things, shook his head and gazed steadily at the ground. “Medicine man heap bad job,” he said; “heap kill if Indians sick.” | What ’” said Kit. “They kill you if Indians get sick?” “If much sickness, it must be fault of medicine man,” said Winnenap; “they say he heap bad witch doctor. can’t chase spirits away. They kill medicine man.” “Jeewhittaker!” said Ben Tremont; “the job isn’t such a cinch after all.” Ted looked keénly at Winnenap. _ ‘You're in trouble now,” he said; “there’s some sickness in your tribe?” Winnenap nodded his head. “How many are in your village?” asked the young cattleman. ~ : Winnenap calculated for a moment on his fingers. “Big village,” he said; “two, three hundred maybe.” ° “And what’s the matter with them?” asked Ted. What's the sickness that they are suffering from?” Winnenap passed his hand over his face and then with one finger made round indentations in the sand. oe 2 f ¢ Sickness makes go red,” he said; “makes spots on ace. “Smallpox?” asked Ted. V BUFFALO Winnenap shook his head. “Measles ?” “Yes,” the Indian nodded vigorously; “heap plenty sick of it. Two, three—twenty die—heap bad for medicine man. Winnenap paused, and, with a significant gesture, drew his. finger across his throat: The boys looked at him with wide-open eyes. “What do you mean?” asked Kit Summers. Winnenap’s stoic face did not change in the: least. “They say medicine man make bad medicine. Hold council to-day—way off—down there.” The Indian pointed toward the north. “That why none of them here. To-night three come to my camp fire—sit down—no speak - —Winnenap knows.” The Indian paused and again drew his finger across his throat. Ted looked inquiringly toward Bud Morgan. “You. know something about the Shoshones,” he said, “Can ‘this’ be truer: Bud nodded. “lve heard of it often,” he said; “they blame the doc- tor when there’s sickness, and, if there’s much of it, they kill him: Some years ago-theré was a lot of pneumonia, and they did the same. The white people farther north put up an awful kick when they heard: about it, but it wasn’t no use. The government was- to interfere, but it didn’t’ do so in time. Too durn much red tape about ihr “Why don’t you skip?” asked Kit Summers. The Indian shrugged his shoulders. “Where to?” he said. “What good to run out there?” He pointed. southward to the Land of Little Rain. “Die of thirst. _Run any other way, Shoshones see me and kill me, > No tise,” . Ted’s head was bowed in thought: Suddenly he raised it and looked full in the eyes of the medicine man. : ."How many miles to the nearest. white. settlement?” he asked. a, eer Mice ae “Nearest settlement. is north—one hundred miles—Bitter Creek.” “Well,” said Ted: slowly, “we are going to Bitter Creek. Two days’ march. None of the Shoshones will dare to interfere with a party of white men. And you, Winnenap, are.going with us. We'll take you out of here. We don’t know much about you, but from what I know of the Sho- shones I surmise that your story is true.” Y : Winnenap’s stolid face showed its first change since the boys had met him, It lit up for a moment, the beady eyes shone more brightly, and the stern lips almost broke into a smile.. It was evident that life was dear to the old man yet. Then in a moment his face recovered its customary expression of Indian stolidity. ea “No. use,” he said; “paleface heap brave—no use—too many Shoshones.” : “How many in your tribe—your village, | mean?” asked Ted. “About eighty,” said the Indian. “Well, they’re not going to interfere with me if there are eight hundred,” said Ted, rising to his feet. “Get saddled up, boys. There’s an extra burro for Winnenap here, and we’ve got to reach Bitter Creek to-morrow afternoon. There was a scene of bustle in a minute. Ten tinutes later the cattlemen were ready to start, and, with Winne- nap mounted on the burro that had carried the water barrels, they crossed the Ceriso, under Winnenap’s guid- ance, carefully avoiding the quicksand in which Kit Sum- mers had been caught the night before. Through woods and underbrush they rode on for two miles, the Indian, to whom the cowboys had taken quite a liking, acting as their guide. He was evidently worried about something, for he glanced continually on all sides and urged his white friends to make the best speed possible. Winnenap rode a little ahead of the others, and, as they came into the open again, he checked his horse. Then he wheeled slowly and rode back. Ted could see him as he came, and could see that the Indian.was hopeless. | “No use,” he said; “Shoshones in front—tracked us— they will make you give me up—better go on alone—you are strangers—leave me to die.” / BILL WEEKLY. 23 CHAPTER XX. TED AND THE SHOSHONES, Ted Strong glanced around at his three followers. “Boys,” he said, “Winnenap says that there is a band of Shoshones ahead who are going to take him off to kill him. They probably have been watching him and us for hours, and saw us start off together. We haven't known this redskin long, and we don’t know much. about him, But the question is, are we going to stand by and see murder committed without interference?” “No,” answered all three resolutely. : “All right,” said Ted, “that’s enough. Now we'll ride ahead:” ; SN aie When they rode out into the open they saw that Winne- nap’s prediction had been correct. Before them;: some mounted, some on foot, were twenty-five Indians in war paint and feathers. A loud outcry arose at the appear- ance of the boys, and.several of the redskins immediately started toward Winnenap. But Ted Strong was expecting this. Immediately he spurred his horse between the medi- cine. man and the approaching Indians. The others did the same, and all: four: wheeled around to face the Sho- shones. The braves. who had run forward to seize Winne- nap came to a sudden standstill. Peano tare The four young range riders presented avery deter- mined front. Not one of them had as yet drawn a weapon, although the hand of each was on the carbine that hung beside each saddle... They knew: that: Ted.-would try to come to:a~ peaceable agreement -and avoid hostilities as much as possible, and: they also knew that a display -of weapons might provoke a sudden attack on the -part of the Shoshones. Fora moment there was a deadly silence: Then an Indian, mounted ona piebald pony and carrying a long lance, rode forward. Facing Ted, he: began:a long speech in Indian, which Winnenap translated. for Ted ‘as it was -delivered... Ted listened: attentively, but ‘at the same time. his eyes: were busy.. He saw-that:the.Shoshenes were armed for the most part with hatchets and knives, that there was only one rifle among them, and.-that it looked -as. if. it might be~more dangerous to the ‘man that used it than to the mam he fired at. © So es The speech made by the Shoshone village chief related that the Indians had seen the white-men entér their coun- try from the Land of Little Rain; that they had no: quar- rel with the white men, and that they might proceed peace- ably through Shoshone Land to Bitter Creek settlement. The chief went on. to: say that his scouts’ had informed him that Winnenap, the medicine man, had taken refuge with the paleface boys. - Winnenap, he said, was a witch. doctor, who had worshiped the Evil One and: worked witchcraft against the village so that many of their young. men and maidens had died of a strange disease. The vil- lage was in terror of this plague, he said; and it was known by the Shoshones, from time immemorial, that there was only one way to stop the spread of such a disease. That was to kill.the witch doctor. He concluded his. speech by demanding that the boys give up the: witch doctor and wishing them. a safe journey north- ward, oe “Wouldn’t that jar you?” said Bud Morgan. “Jumpin’ sand hills! These here pitiful bunch o’ reds hes as . much nerve as if they was the whole Sioux nation.. Let me turn loose on them, Ted; I'll pump holes in ther bunch.” “Let’s fire:at them,” said Kit; “that may scare them into’ some respect for us.- What do you say, Ben?” a “My carbine stays right where it is till they open the ball,’ drawled Ben; “I-never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me.” | “Stiddy, then,” said Bud; “we’ll do what Capting Ted says. But I’d jest like ter turn loose on them there fellers !” “Keep your weapons where they are,” said Ted sternly. “Now, Winnenap, I want you to translate everything T say into Shoshone, and tell it to your friends over there?’ Ted’s speech was brief and to the point. It was, in effect, that as white men they could not stand by and see murder done; that no man was responsible for the measles,-and the best preventive against it was cleanliness and an observance of the sanitary laws, and, furthermore, that if Winnenap was injured, or they were interfered . 24 with in the slightest degree, the matter would be re- ported at the nearest fort, and the whole tribe would be gathered into a reservation and punished. The redskins could see from the expression of Ted’s face that he meant what he said. There was a long and noisy debate among them, and finally three of them rode forward toward the cattlemen. One of them was rather lighter in color than the others, and seemed to know a little English. “We take Winnenap,” he said. or get killed.” “Not much!” -said Ted. danger of getting killed.” Ted’s revolver flashed forth as he. spoke, and at the same instant the other boys drew their carbines. “Boys,” said Ted, “keep those first. three fellows cov- ered, and if they move shoot their horses. I’m going to do the same with the chief .there—the chap with the feathers and the lance. He knows more English than he pretends to, for I watched him while I was talking to Winnenap, and he could understand the most of what I “was: saying.” Se Aeneas “We'll keep ’em covered, all right,” said Bud ‘Jumpin’ sand hills! “It would be a charity ter pump some lead inter them there spavined old hosses an’ put ’em out of their misery. They’re starvin’ ter death as it is.” “Look here,” said Ted, calling to the chief, “I’ve got you covered. Don’t move or I'll fire! Tell your men not to move either.” Ted’s revolver covered the chief. For a moment the redskin looked into the muzzle. In the meantime Ted was speaking to Winnenap in an undertone. . “Make a break,” he said; “sneak out to the left there and give your burro a good kick. Just get away as fast as you can. We'll hold your friends here for a while. “Now, my friend,” said Ted, turning to the chief, “if you move a hand I’ll show some fancy shooting.” Just at that moment Winnenap darted off on his burro. At the same time Ted’s revolver cracked, and a. feather dropped from the redskin’s headdress. “Sit still and tell your followers not to move or I'll shoot—this time at your head,” said the young range rider. “My friends have repeating rifles, and we’re ripe and ready to-clean out the whole bunch of you. Under- stand ?” Ge Evidently the chief did understand. For a moment he hesitated. But the revolver muzzle, above which there curled a’ wreath of white smoke, now wavered a trifle, and there was a steady gleam in the eyes. of this pale- face boy that filled the heart of the chief with fear. -He spoke to his followers in the Shoshone tongue, and, like himself, they seemed to be turned to bronze statues. Meantime, Winnenap, mounted on a fleet-footed little burro, had° disappeared over a distant hilltop, but. still Ted’s revolver was pointed straight at the head of the Shoshone chief, and still the carbines in the hands of the other cattlemen covered his three principal followers. With his left hand- Ted Strong drew forth a gun- metal Waterbury watch from his pocket and laid it on the pommel of his saddle. BN a “For five minutes,” he said; “you fellows must stay where you are. So you might as well rest easily and not look so nervous. Then we are going to start northward. And if we see any of you fellows hiking after us we are liable ‘to shoot back at you just for luck. And you needn’t think to catch us, for our horses are quicker than yours.” : ; While the five minutes passed the cowboys and the twenty-odd Indians remained seated on their horses like so many statues. Then Ted put his watch in his pocket, and, with weapons still displayed, he and his comrades “Paleface let him go “Stand still er you'll be in cantered away, past the wondering redskins, up over the hilltops to the northward. Near Bitter Creek they met Winnenap the next after- noon. He was not going to the town, he said, but west- ward, into the country of the Piutes. As a token of gratitude, he handed Ted two bags, from which an ominous buzz came. They were each filled with rattlesnakes. “Keep these for a day or two,” begged the| Indian; “good: medicine.” Ted was surprised, but, after a good deal of persuasion, took the snakes to piease the redskin. “ yi hi ORRIN ARUN ie CbDi dN ie ga NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. Then Winnenap bade them farewell, returned the burro, and departed on foot. : It was late at night, and Ted was about ready to go to bed. “He and Bud Morgan were staying at-the Wal- dorf Hotel,-in Bitter Creek Settlement. The other two roughriders were quartered in a lodging house at the other end of the town, the Waldorf—which, despite its pretentious name, was a very small, very dirty frame structure—not being able to accommodate them. Ted had sauntered about the two or three streets of the settlement with Bud, and decided, before he turned in, that Bitter Creek was as squalid and disagreeable a frontier town as he had ever set eyes on. There were two or three worthless, worked-out mines near the place, and the population seemed to spend most of its time either in the saloons and dancing halls or in the gambling houses, of which the settlement, in spite of its small size and evident appearance of poverty, boasted several. “I’m sick ‘of this place,” said Ted, as he neared the hotel once more; “I wish that a train left it to-night.” “There won’t be a train till to-morrow afternoon,” said Bud; “the one. that goes through here in the morning is an express, and it doesn’t stop here. It stops down at Ceriso City, thirty miles away.” - “Well, we'll take it there, then,” said Ted. ‘I’m not going to stay in this town a minute longer than I can help... I’ve got the rolls of bills that belonged to Jim Speed, and I noticed a tough pair in the hotel eying me when I asked the clerk if there was a safe here where we could keep valuables.” “T know the fellers ye mean,” said Bud; “jumpin’ sand hills! they was a tough pair, all right. One was a slim, lean feller with a bad eye, and the other was a mulatto with a red sombrero.” “Those are the fellows,” said Ted: “I was foolish to ask for a safe. I might have known that there was none here, and that if there were it would not be a very safe place. It simply attracted my friends’ notice to the fact that I was carrying some valuables with me, and V’ll have to be on my guard to-night. I don’t expect to sleep very sound, for, besides that, it’s mighty hot in my room, and I have that bagful of snakes which Winne- nap gave me. I suppose the medicine man thought. that there was some charm about a rattlesnake. I didn’t like to displease him by refusing them. He was grateful to us for saving his life, and I suppose it was the only thing he had to give. They’ll do no harm in that bag, but I - don’t know what to do with them. If I turn them loose here there’s going to be an awfully lively time in this town, They are the most venomous -type of rattlers, the little fellows that live in the desert and move side- wise. o “IT know ’em,” said Bud; “side-winders we call ’em. You keep ’em safe in that canvas bag they are in till we are crossing some creek. Then drop it overboard, and we'll be well rid of them.” “T hope the bag holds out till we get to some creek,” said Ted; “it looked mighty worn and flimsy to me. And those rattlers are lively little fellows, trying to poke a hole in it every time they wake up.” ~ eee Bud yawned, for he was getting very sleepy. a I guess I'll bid you good night, Ted,” he said. “I'll see ye fu’st thing in ther mornin’; we wants ter make an early start.” / _ Good night,” said Ted, and he walked off to the hot little room which had been assigned to him, and, remov- ing his outer clothing, threw himself on the bed. - Ted had taken off his belt of :arms, but he threw it along the top of his pillow so that the revolver butt was near his hand as he lay with one arm supporting his head. He was soon dozing, but every now and then a smothered whir from the bag of rattlers, which was hanging from a nail near the door, would arouse him. There was a faint light in the room, and Ted could see the bag move as the rattlers stirred about inside. Then, while watching the bag, he fell sound asleep. . It must have been an hour later when Ted suddenly awoke. A terrible, rapid buzzing filled his ears. The moon had arisen and shone in the little window of the toom. In the middle of the floor stood the mulatto NEW BUFFALO whom he had noticed in the office of the hotel ‘that day. The light glinted on the blade of a long knife which he’ held in his hand, and he had evidently been on the point of plunging it into Ted’s breast, when he had been ar- rested by something surprising. Now his face was blanched in the moonlight, his eyes were rolling and had a look of indescribable horror in them. All over the floor werg the forms of the rattlesnakes, the little side-winders, who had broken from their. bag, which now lay on the floor. The mulatto had evidently dislodged it from the nail on which it hung near the door when he entered the room, and now the snakes were whirring all about the fellow, their tails rattling incessantly, and their pointed. heads swaying to and fro as they moved about the floor. The mulatto had entered the room with the intention of kill- ing Ted and robbing him, and now it looked as if he were to meet death himself, and a much more horrible death than the one he had planned for the sleeper. Ted’s quick eye took in the situation at a glance. Be- fore the thief had time to move or stir, the young range rider was up on one elbow, revolver in hand. He spoke to the fellow quietly, but loud enough to be heard above the buzz of the side-winders. “If I were you,” he said, “I don’t think that I would move around very much.” The mulatto gasped and moved his lips, but he was so terrified that he was actually speechless. “Just stay right where you are,” commanded Ted; “there’s a snake ready to strike right behind you. Stand still now, for I’m going to fire between your knees.” Ted’s revolver went off, and the negro felt his trousers twitch as the ball cut a hole through the cloth close to his leg. The rattler which had been coiled up directly behind him fell back, its head severed from its body. |. The mulatto had turned a sickly white color, and it seemed as though through sheer fright he would stumble over on the floor. Ted’s wonderful steadiness. with the weapon terrified him almost as much as the snakes had terrified him. He expected the young roughrider to turn the: weapon upon him next, and give him the fate he de- served.. The room was flooded with moonlight now, so that everything was as plain as day—the coiling bodies of . the snakes on the: floor, the half-recumbent figure of the young roughrider on the bed, and the glint of his deadly weapon. ce “Steady now,” -said Ted, without. changing his position; “there’s another snake at your left foot. Wait for the smoke to clear a little.’ ‘Crack went the revolver of the young roughrider, and another snake whipped over with a broken back. ‘Don’t move,” said Ted sternly, “or you'll either be’ shot or bitten. Stand up where you are.” Twice more the weapon of the young roughrider cracked, and two more snakes were dead. Mi “Now,” said Ted, “there’s another snake behind you. I’m going to shoot between your legs again. Stand steady.” Another snake toppled over at the report of the re- volver. The room was filled with choking powder smoke, and the noise of the shooting in the small compartment was deafening. But there was no rattle now sounding in the ears of the negro. Ted had killed all five snakes that the bag had contained, and, incidentally, had given a more wonderful exhibition of shooting than the man who had come to murder him had ever seen before. Ted’s revalver was now raised in a steady hand, and covered the breast of the mulatto. The cattleman was still leaning on his elbow, not having changed his posi- tion once during the whole affair. There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were fixed in a disdainful and pitying expression on the face of the man who had planned to kill him. Of course the tremendous fusillade of shots had aroused the rest of the house, and at this moment the landlord and several roughly dressed men rushed into the room. One of them was a man whom Ted had seen before, and whom -he knew as a United States marshal. Ted rose to his feet, still keeping his prisoner covered with his weapon. “How do you do, gentlemen?” he said. “I am sorry that I have been forced to disturb the house with this BILL WEEKLY. 25 uproar. These snakes broke loose, and I was forced to kill them for fear they might hurt somebody.” : The.crowd looked at the floor and at the headless bodies of the snakes, and gasped in astonishment. “This fellow here,” continued Ted, nodding toward his prisoner, “came in here with the intention of rob- bing and murdering me. I'll turn him over to Marshal Williams over there. Have you a pair of handcuffs with you, marshal?” A moment later the handcuffs clicked around the wrists of the frightened mulatto. “Now, gentlemen,” said Ted, “I’m rather tired, and would like to sleep. This room is a little littered up at present. I would like another.” ae “Ye'll hev ther best in ther house,” said the landlord, stepping forward. And Ted had it, too. When he. first arrived there the hotel man had treated him with scant courtesy, but now he could not do too. much for him, and when the four cowboys rode out of Bitter Creek the following day they were sent off by a cheer, in which the whole population joined. i : “Well,” said Ted, “we saved that medicine man’s life, but he did us a good turn, too. Those rattlers saved my life, all right, by waking me with their buzzing.” “Winnenap didn’t know that would happen when he gave you them, though,” said Kit. “T dunno,” cine men hev shore a lot of knowledge.” CHAPTER XXI. BACK AT LAS ANIMAS. | Just as quickly as they could get there, Ted Strong. and all the members of his young range-rider band were. back again, safe and.sound, at Las Animas Ranch... The | very first afternoon. of their return found them perched. in comfortable attitudes about the porch of the house, watching the efforts of Carl Schwartz to manage a bad-.. tempered pinto pony. - “Stiddy thar, Carl; look out, or yer hoss’ll git away. from ye.” “Lean over and whisper gently in its ear. Don’t use. force with it.” “Speak gently to it, Carl; speak gently.” “Appeal to the better side of its nature.” . From time to time a burst of laughter came from the merry group, and the voices of girls mingled pleasantly . with the rougher voices of the men, for Louise Rossiter and Daisy Miller. were seated in wickerwork armchairs - on the porch, behind the cattlemen. Carl was haus the time of his life nuns on the. O pinto pony. To look at him you would not think him able to ride anything faster than an undertaker’s horse which had become too lazy for its job. Carl was very short and very stout. His arms were short and fat, and’ his legs were short and fatter still; his face wore a sleepy, contented expression, and he sat his charger with the airy grace of an elephant. But, in spite of appearances, Carl, by dint of long and persistent trying, had acquired a faculty of sticking on the horse’s back, although he did not stay close to the saddle, by any means. in reality a much better rider than a good many people who look graceful on their horses, and, although he would - never have the sure, firm seat or confidence of Kit. Sum- mers, Bud Morgan, or Ted Strong, he was fit to ride the ordinary ranch horse, and that is saying a good deal, as most people who have lived on a Western cattle ranch’ will admit. At present, however, Carl had about all that — he could handle. “Py Chimineddy!” he exclaimed, as the pony reared up on its hind legs, “vas iss der matter mit you? Do you want to walk on your tail, like a man? Get down, or I'll preak your face!” “Oh, Carl!” came in a chorus of voices from the boys on the porch. “You wouldn’t do anything like that, would you? You wouldn’t strike the horse? Such brutality!” “T'll sdrike him all right, all right, oof he don’d pehave mit mineselluf,” puffed Carl. “Lead him up to the fence, and nail him to it,”- said . Ben Tremont; “then get a stepladder and climb .gently.. . observed the superstitious Bud; “them medi- He was 26 7 NEW BUFFALO on his back. Tie yourself there with a reata, and you can't fall of," “That horse needs rubber shoes,” said Bean Pole; “that’s what’s the matter with it’) It will catch cold walking about on that damp grass, and it knows it. The animals have wonderful instinct that way. That’s why it’s lifting its forefeet so high. It’s trying to keep them dry.” .. “It’s? wonderful the instinct that animals have,’ said Bob Martin; “it’s simply amazing. As Shakespeare says, ‘Dumb brutes have brains to reason with, and oft we © find they know more than the Dutchmen who try to ride them.’ ” “Whoopee!” yelled Bud Morgan. “Look out thar, Carl, it’s a-tryin’ ter get its legs coiled around yer neck. It’s ‘tryin’ ter get a strangle holt on ye. Ef ye don’t look out. it'll pull ye over its head an’ hold ye in its forefeet while it bites ye. Look out!” “Put some salt on its tail,” said Kit; “then it will do whatever you wartit it to.” ' .. “How. can “I put salt on its tail?” said Carl, as the ‘words. were jolted out of him by the bucking of the pony. “I can’t see der tail, unt I am getting pusy all der time keeping in der saddle, alretty.” -. Suddenly the horse stopped the hard gallop in which -at had been going around:-in a big ring; and stood. stock- . still... Carl fell forward in. the saddle and embraced the animal fervently around the neck with both arms. .The horse reared up with its hind quarters and kicked violently into space. Carl, still holding to its head, turned a com- plete somersault and landed on his--feet, facing it. A wild cheer broke from the boys on the porch.’ © Sf GOOG DOV CARE yun e eG ea a ea . “That’s ther neatest stunt I ever seed.” ct OW Cid POO IA ek ae _. “You ought to be in a circus.” ~~ “Do it again, Carl; I love to see you do that.” -. These were the cries that fell upon the ears of the » German youth. He stepped: away from the horse, still . holding it by the bridle rein. a Ba oe _. “T haf had enough oof der rough riting,” he said. “I ' don’d want:no more oof der horse. Gif me one dot iss -fatterer, unt more easier going. Dot iss what I want.” >: Bud Morgan swung himself to the back of the horse, and for.a moment there was an exhibition of bucking -and _ jumping that made the girls sit up and scream. It was ‘-a new horse, recently purchased for the remuda, and only “half broken. Bud had fastened his spurs in the girths, - however, and the horse could not, shake him off: - After ..a.little run out on the prairie and -back,.the pinto became _ quiet and submissive. | en es - Then “Bud came back at a full gallop, and brought the horse *to a standstill in front of the girls. “They both . clapped their hands in applause. “Good boy!” said Daisy. “You have it broken now.” “Dot vos because I haf ritten him der first,” said Carl, -- who had sunk into a-chair beside the girls... “I haf: proken .-his spirit before Pud rote -him.”. Tt 7 That's right, Catl,”. said Ben Tremont; “if it- wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be able to ride any of thé horses about here. You are the champion roughrider and’ most -graceful horseman in this outfit?’ - i .. “Let’s try some cowboy stunts,” said Kit. Summers, “just to show the girls what we can do by this time.” “That’s a good idea,’ said Bean Pole. ‘I feel a chill - coming over mé, and I need ‘a little exercise.” ° ~ “Tm game,” said Bud. “I'll show. ye how ter handle a rawhide quirt. Reach me yer quirt, Kit, an’ [’ll show lye a stunt.” Cee tue ~ Kit handed over a plaited rawhide about ten feet long. - It was stiff and heavy at the handle, but pliable at the --end, where it tapered down to a wire-tipped point. Bud slipped the thing about his wrist and. then turned to the crowd on the porch. “Anybody here got a silver dollar?” he asked. Mr. Rossiter, the uncle of Louise, produced the coin. “Don’t you give it to him,” said Ben Tremont; “you'll . never see it again if you do.” i In spite of this warning, old Rossiter tossed ‘over the coin, which Bud caught deftly in his left hand. He threw _ ~-it on the ground, about fifteen feet away from the porch. _ “PIL show you a fancy way of pickin’ up money when- BILL WEEKLY. ever you happen ter find it scattered about the perairie,” said Bud. “It may come in handy some time.” He urged his horse to a gallop and sent it sweeping around in a big circle. As he dashed past the coin, about six feet away from it, he suddenly leaned forward and shot out his right hand. With a snap that sounded like the crack of a rifle, the rawhide quirt went hissing through the*air. Like a flying fish leaping from the waves, the silver dollar went twinkling up into the air. “Tails!” yelled Bud, as he grabbed for it. He caught it, although he nearly slipped clean over the side of the horse in doing so. Then he sat back in the saddle, pulled his horse up, and opened his hand. The coin lay in his palm, with the reverse side up. “Tails; I win,” said Bud, calmly putting it into his pocket. There was a roar of laughter from the boys, and Mr. Rossiter smiled. “That's all right,’ he said; “it was worth a dollar to see that trick.” Ted rose to his feet with a smile. _“T-don’t know,” he said; “I’ve séen more than that for a dollar. Throw the coin down again, Bud, and let me ry my hand abies ie “Watch Ted,” said Daisy Miller, laying her hand on Louise’s arm. “T’ll bet he can do it just as well as Bud.” Ted threw the coin down in the spot where Bud had dropped it, and mounted the horse which Bud had just left. He took the quirt in his right hand, and started off his horse. - “Now,” he said, “this: coin goes to whoever catches it. I won’t try for it myself.” . vn Da et “Come on, boys; here’s a chance for everybody!” yelled Bud. “This is as good as three-card monte.” °~- °° TO BE CONCLUDED, CARD GAME LASTS SIX MONTHS. A cribbage game, played in the depths of the earth, and running up to one hundred thousand points, has: just been finished. It was played by Gus Raymond, miner, and William Gabriel, pump man of the Wilcox Mine, at Wood- row, Minnesota. . The sitting lasted six months.. . Ray- mond won by two hundred and seven points. The game was played in the pump house, two hundred and fifty feet underground. Gabriel once held a. “twenty-nine” hand, which cribbage mathematicians declare happens about once in ten years of continuous playing. paaie io WOULDN'T STAND FOR. FILING. _A certain blacksmith, although an expert at his trade, was quite ignorant of surgical methods. When hé sprained his. wrist one afternoon; he hurried to a doctor’s office. .. The doctor. examined the wrist, and then took a small _ bottle from a shelf, but found it empty. oa “James,” said he, turning to an assistant, “go upstairs and bring me down a couple of those phials.”- >. » “What's that?” exclaimed the patient, suddenly show- ing signs of emotion. Hea Maan Maiiea “IT merely asked my assistant to bring me down a couple of phials from upstairs,” answered the blacksmith. “Files!” cried the blacksmith. “No, you don’t! If that hand has got to come off, use an ax or a saw!” IMAGINES HE OBEYED ORDERS. . The men engaged in cutting off the ends of protrud- ing ties on the elevated railways were explicitly instructed, for the sake of innocent passers-by on the street below, never to allow a piece of tie to fall to the street without a rope attached to it. One day, as the end of a tie was sawed off, the man on the job threw the rope, tie and all into the street. “Hi, there, what’re you doin’?” yelled the indignant . foreman. “Ye told me not to let anything down to the street without a rope attached,” rejoined the. man, in a surly tone. “Well, ain’t I obeyin’ orders?” ‘ SP 0 Sok SS gem ee aa Oy > pee beet a Mm ena eee Ve een er fo h, st 1d. d- 4 ye ne ty ce le, ed all irs id- ed, Ww, suit 1an ATG. ‘eet rly THE: NEWS OF THE WORLD. Finds Pigs Roosting in Tree, Just before dark, one day recently, Allard Ashwell, of Elmville, New York, went to his hog pen in the rear of the brick yard to feed his eight pigs. He filled the trough and called the pigs, but they did not come. Mr. Ashwell - searched the yard, but could not find them. He believed they had been stolen. Mr. Ashwell returned to his place of business and notified Constables Jones and Journeau. The officers ob- tained lanterns, and with Mr. Ashwell went to the yard. They made a thorough search without success, and were about to leave the yard when Constable Jones said he heard a noise in a tree a few rods away. The men went to the tree and found the eight pigs roosting upon a limb. Mr. Ashwell states that the limbs of the tree reach to the ground, that the tree is umbrella shaped, and is cov- ered with heavy foliage. He says that, as the pigs are-a jet black, they could not be seen in the tree. The tree was shaken, the pigs jumped to the ground, and ran to the pen. Food Crops Make Splendid Progress. Food crops are making good progress generally. Re- ports in the national weather and crop bulletin said winter wheat showed excellent growth throughout the principal wheat-growing area, spring wheat continued to make favorable growth, and corn, in spite of rather unfavor- able conditions in the chief producing States, is, as a whole, in good shape to make fine growth under more favorable conditions. Early potatoes are in good condition in the South, and planting of potatoes continues in the Northern States. Greatly increased acreage in beans is reported. Rice is doing well in Louisiana, Texas, and Arkansas, and a large acreage has been planted in California. Improve- ment in the condition of cotton over most of the belt is reported. Weekly reports to the department of agriculture show prices of new potatoes continue firm despite increased shipments, heavy supplies of home-grown strawberries, oversupply of onions with prices lower, twice as heavy supplies of early cabbage as last year, the peach and watermelon crops opening a week earlier than last year, and heavy shipments of lettuce. Hangman’s Tree Still Stands. In Denver, Colorado, is an old cottonwood, known as Hangman’s Tree. It is a relic of the days when the his- tory of the West was in the making, and suspended from its boughs twelve men breathed their last while hanging at the end of a. rope from the branches of the tree. Whenever a man was accused of stealing horses or another man’s food, a meeting was held under the cottonwood tree, and if the man was judged guilty he was at once hanged. A man could kill another man in the early days and escape hanging, as every man went armed, and it was considered that a man could take care of himself; but it was a different matter when a man stole another man’s horse or food. The last man was hanged there in the early seventies. He was a horse thief by the name of Musgrove, and was charged with stealing horses from the government. Baby Lone Ready to Enlist. “T want to fight for the flag. My grandfather fought, and I want to fight, too,” said Baby Lone, a Kickapoo brave, medicine man, and circus performer, to Colonel John Fraser, in theeFirst Regiment armory at Newark, New Jersey, when he sought to enlist. Baby Lone was born twenty-six years ago on a reservation in Oklahoma. He knows little of his parents, who died when he was young. He learned the lore of herbs, and when old enough he set out selling medicine. Since then he has appeared in the rings of the Buffalo Bill and Ranch 101 shows. Los Angeles Home of American Brides, If Danny Cupid wore a cap he would put another feather in it, and it would be marked “Los Angeles,” and there’s a reason. In the past ten years more American-born girls have been wedded in Los Angeles than in any other part of the State. This information became known in figures rceently issued by the California State board of health in Sacramento. The figures show that 30.9 per cent of the brides of San Francisco for the ten-year period from 1906 to 1916 were foreign born. Contrasting this are the figures for Los Angeles, which show that only 17.3 of the brides here were foreign born. In Alameda, Contra Costa, Marin, and San Mateo Counties, as a group, the percentage was 20.8. Similarly among Caucasian mothers the average per cent who were born abroad was 41.9 for San Francisco, against 26.3 for Los Angeles County. Among the descendants: of the white race the average per cent of foreign birth was 43.9 for San Francisco, as compared with only 24.3 for Los Angeles County. Quarter of a Million for Shock. Miss Margaret M. Sanders has begin action to recover two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in damages from the Beau-Site Company, operators of the Biltmore Hotel, New York, on the ground that three men employed by the company entered her bedroom in the hotel at three o'clock in the corning. Her complaint alleges that the men made a thorough search of the room and the adjoin- ing closet, despite her protests. She was in night attire, she says, and became hysterical because of the invasion. Miss Sanders describes herself as a “little, weak, timid woman of tender and refined sensibilities,’ and says her nervous system has suffered a severe shock. The hotel managers said a denial would be entered to the complaint on the ground that the men entering the room.in no way caused inconvenience to their guest. Much Like Rip Van Winkle. His name is Lemuel Bent, his age eighty-two, and he lives in. Crane’s Corner, Vermont. He came to New York recently for the first time since 1876, when he passed through on his way to visit the Centennial in Philadelphia. Until he arrived he actually didn’t know that there was a ae a akeeee campeaieeeee pete 28 NEW. BUFFALO war in Europe. Crane’s Corner is in an extremely rural section of the Green Mountain State. There are no tele- graph offices or telephones, and presumably no mails. Mr. Bent could not believe his ears when told that this coun- try was at war with Germany. After a long time he grasped the true situation. Unique Will Found on Injured Man. When Anthony Rouse, sixty-five, of Watertown, New York, was picked up unconscious at the Mill Street bridge, after having been run into by a motor cyclist, and his pockets were searched to ascertain his identity, a paper in the nature of a will with unique provisions was found. The document was addressed to “M. M. Brown, Esquire, Brockville, Ontario,’ and provided that a cross six inches wide and seven feet high be erected to his memory, that two feet must be in the ground covered with cement, and the cross be five feet above ground. It must have a brass plate on top and at each end of the crossarm, and bear the following inscription: “Here sleeps the unhappy memory of Antonio Ragaina, Glory be in Heaven and on earth. Farewell forever.” Written on the sheet in pencil was the following: “Whoever Gets This—You must know my corpse must be sent to Canada, Brockville, Ontario.” The injured man is a native of Italy, and was known more commonly as Anthony Rouse. He is expected to recover. He formerly lived at Brockville. Evangelist Is Jailed for Arson. A sentence of twenty-one years in State’s prison was imposed by Judge Wadhams, in New York, upon Barnet Klass, ex-soldier, subway guard, and preacher, who was convicted of arson in the first degree. Records showed that in the last five years Klass had collected insurance after five fires occurred in apartments where he lived. Two of these fires were in Philadelphia. In 1916 Klass came to New York and became a subway guard. He col- lected nearly one thousand dollars on two fires, and finally, in September last, set fire to an apartment at 390 Madison Street, which he had stocked with stolen furniture. Klass joined the army in 1899, but deserted while in the Philippines. Sentenced to five years’ imprisonment, he was pardoned by President Roosevelt. While in Sing ‘Sing for stealing military supplies at Fort Slocum he changed his faith from Jewish to Christian, and upon his - release became an evangelist. Baby Swallows Safety Pin, The nine-months-old child of Reverend and Mrs. Gersia, living ten miles northeast of Falls City, Nebraska, having © swallowed an open safety pin, was brought to the city. Doctor Husted made an X-ray examination. This located the pin in the infant’s stomach. The next day another X-ray examination was made, and the pin had shifted to the small intestines. The child seems well, and no serious result is expected. Alligator Scates Bell Boys. A weird wail on the second floor of a Broadway, New York, hotel at daybreak startled the floor clerk and two sleepy bell boys almost out of their wits. They traced the noise to the room of J. E. Wharton, of Lebanon, Tennessee; opened the door and watched Wharton search- BILL’ WEEKLY. ine the bedclothes. After a moment he found an alli- gator and hastily put it into a box of water. Then he ex- plained. Recently he was in Palm Beach, Florida, where he bought the alligator. He brought it North and kept it in his room. That night he fed the alligator, but did not place the lid on the box securely. The alligator dur- ing the night got out of the box and went on a tour of discovery. He crawled to the bed and used a blanket partly on the floor as a scaling ladder. Wharton sent his pet to a Sixth Avenue animal store, to be kept until he starts for Lebanon. Catherine Peck Seeks Doctot Waite’s Money. An echo of the case of Doctor Arthur Warren Waite, the young dentist who was recently put to death in the electric chair for the murder of his father-in-law, John E. Peck, of Grand Rapids, Michigan, came up when Miss Catharine Peck, sister of the murdered man, made a de- mand at police headquarters for the return of seventy- eight hundred dollars, which was part of a sum of money Waite had paid to Eugene Kane, an embalmer, to swear that he—Kane—had used arsenic in the fluid with which he embalmed the body of Mr. Peck. As the basis of her claim Miss Peck called attention to the testimony of Doctor Waite at his trial, in which she said he admitted that the money was part of forty thousand dollars he had got from her some time previous to the murder of her brother. She told the officials of the property division of the department that the money belonged to her. As it is necessary under the law to obtain a court order before returning any prop- erty, Miss Peck was instructed to take up the matter in the New York supreme court. Promotions Make New Majot Generals. Brigadier Generals William L. Sibert, John F. Morrison, and Charles Morton’ have been nominated to be major generals in the regular army. This means that these three men eventually will command divisions in France under Lieutenant General Pershing. General Sibert, then a colonel of engineers, was one of the “five immortals” who built the Panama Canal. His personal work was the construction of the Gatun Dam, the great locks, which are generally regarded as the great- est engineering feat of modern times, and the great spill- way. Generals Morrison and Morton are infantry officers of high distinction, both having been special students of the problems of that branch of the service, and both being graduates of the War College. Eighteen colonels were promoted to be brigadiers, Three Brothers and “Pa” Wed Tihtee Sisters and “Ma.” C. V. Vasseau, junior, of New Richmond, Wisconsin, in 1891 married Miss Clina Douville, of Neche, North Dakota. On October 15, 1902, at Grand Forks, North Dakota, Eugene Vasseau, brother of C. V. Vasseau, junior, married Miss Harriet Douville, sister of the wife of his - brother. In the meantime another romance was moving rapidly toward the altar, for on October 11, 1003, Mrs. John Douville, mother of the wives of C. V., junior, and Eugene _" _— Dw) “< Vasseau, was wedded in St. Paul to C. V. Vasseau, senior, father of her daughters’ husbands. Now comes the word that Arthur Vasseau, brother of C. V., junior, and Eugene Vasseau, took as his life part- ner Miss Flora Douville, sister of the wives of his two brothers. They were married at Stillwater. Indian’s Statue Is Unveiled. A statue of Sequoyah, inventor of the Cherokee alphabet, has been unveiled at Statuary Hall, in Washington, as Oklahoma’s first contribution to this national institution. The entire Oklahoma congressional delegation partici- pated in the ceremonies. Governor R. L. Williams made the presentation address and Speaker Clark made the speech of acceptance. Missing Girl’s Skull Found? If scientists can identify a little, bruised skull just found in an old ditch in Newcastle, Indiana, as that of Catherine Winters, one of the country’s greatest mys- teries will be solved. Catherine Winters disappeared from the home of her father, Doctor W. A. Winters, more than four years ago. Gypsies were suspected of. kidnaping. Newspapers joined in one of the greatest child hunts ever organized. After some months nearly all the search- ers gave it up. Doctor Winters spent large sums on the search. Now laborers have come upon a child’s skull while digging in a long-untouched ditch. Can the identity be proved? How will it be done? Again there is mystery. Doctor Winters is not hopeful. ° Uses Well as Incubator, An artesian well of hot water that serves the double purpose of irrigating his land and hatching hen’s eggs is owned by E. L. Edmunds, living near Oasis, in the Coachelia Valley, California. The water has a tem- perature of one hundred and one degrees at the well. It irrigated six acres of asparagus, from which Mr. Ed- munds made almost daily shipments during December, January, and February. Heat to operate an incubator is secured by placing five- gallon cans with perforated sides in an irrigation ditch, The cans are partially filled with sand in order to sink | them. The eges are then put in the sand and turned daily until hatched. As the water is at an even tem- perature at all times a satisfactory hatch record has re- sulted. Eight Live on Shark’s Blood. The loss of the American schooner M. E, Eldridge, of Dennis, Massachusetts, and the death of her captain, George Delbat, and one of her crew, who perished from exposure and starvation, became known when eight sur- vivors were brought to Havana, Cuba, by a British schooner, The rescued men drifted for eighteen days in a small boat without water. They declared they caught a shark with ropes and drank its blood. Woman Kills Mountain Lion. Men have trailed a huge mountain lion for months in the San Gabriel Cafion, in California, but it remained for a woman, Mrs. Joseph Everhardy, to kill the animal. One ‘night the Everhardys heard a goat bleating in the corral, and on investigating discovered a mountain lion. Thinking NEW BUFFALO BILL WEEKLY. to frighten the lion away, Everhardy threw a rock, and the animal sprang toward him. Only the appearance of the wife with a lantern saved him. The next night her pet dog was killed and dragged away, and the woman swore vengeance. Grinding up a couple of glass bottles, she planted it in the dog with a small dose af strychnine. Now Everhardy is exhibiting the head and paw taken from the lion. The brute was eleven feet from nose to tip of tail, and is said to be the largest ever seen in the cafion. Dives ftom Hydroplane. One of two hydroplanes maneuvering six miles at sea, off Toulon, France, caught fire and plunged into the water with Ensign de Bishop and Quartermaster Bau- doin. The second hydroplane flew to the rescue. From this machine Seaman Torreano dived as the hydroplane swept by, sixty feet above the wreck, at a speed of prac- tically a mile a minute, and rescued the ensign, one of whose legs was broken. The quartermaster was lost. Justice for Beilis, New Russia’s Order. New Russia proposes to right the wrong done the Jew Beilis by the autocratic régime in the famous “ritual murder case.’ By a strange turn of fate the solicitor, Bolderieff, who had the courage to defend Beilis in the famous trial, has become chief magistrate at Kieff under the new democratic government. The ministry of justice has instructed the new prose- - cuting officer at Kieff to reopen the whole Beilis case. All of those who were involved in the prosecution, in- cluding Beilis himself, were ordered to appear before a spcial commission. It was officially stated that papers had been discovered revealing completely the fact that the whole case against Beilis was manufactured. Lightning Strips Hen’s Feathers. When lightning struck the barn of F. H. Dischinger, near Elmore, Ohio, recently, a hen sitting in the haymow was plucked entirely clean of feathers on one side, but without other harm to her or the eggs on which she sat. Two little chicks were hatched out the morning after the stroke. A two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar horse was killed and another stunned. Will Search World for Red Rose Girl. When Private Stanley Snelling was leaving London, Ontario, for France with the Eighteenth Western On- tario battalion, a little over two years’ ago, an unknown young woman tossed him a cluster of artificial red roses she had torn from her hat. “Bring it back to me,’ she called. “T will do that,’ he promised, with a smile, as his bat- talion moved to the waiting trains before he had time to speak or further ascertain her name. Private Snelling has been twice wounded, the last time so severely with machine-gun fire that he was invalided home to Canada. He arrived in London a short time ago. Now he wishes to meet the girl for whom, like the gallant knights of .old, he carried the little token. Announcements published in the local newspapers have failed to find a claimant for the flowers. Perhaps the fair one no longer resides in London. Perhaps two years ago she was only a visitor or tourist there. But if she is anywhere in America between Florida and the Yukon 30 NEW BUFFALO territory, Private Snelling states he is going to find her, and return to: her the flowers as he promised, as soon as he is able to leave the local hospital, where he*is con- valescing. Auto Matooned by Flood. Mr. and Mrs. Robert Teale, of Leon, and Harold Beggs and mother, of Denver, Colorado, were marooned all night in their car while it stood on a bridge. The members of the party were en route to Leon from Des Moines, and when near Jamison had forded through water which nearly carried them downstream. They were afraid, after reaching the bridge, to either attempt to go forward or attempt to go back, and they also saw to their consterna- tion that the water was rising. Making themselves as | comfortable as possible in the car, they stayed there until morning, when help came. a Boy Rides Under Locomotive. After beating his way from Seattle to Chicago and back to St. Paul by hiding in tool chests under tenders of locomotives, Jimmie Hughey, a thirteen-year-old Seattle boy, was dragged from his berth under a Burlington road freight locomotive in the railroad yards at St. Paul by a ‘ patrolman. The boy told the police he ran away from home be- cause his father “beat him up.” He said he intended to go to his grandfather’s home in Lansing, Michigan, but after successfully making his way from the coast to Chicago in three weeks, he caught the wrong train out of Chicago, and landed in St. Paul five days after he passed through that city en route East. It Tells Who Lives Longest. The first publication of the United States census bureau devoted exclusively to life tables has recently appeared. It contains twenty-five tables prepared under the super- vision of Professor James W. Glover, of the University of Michigan. These tables give the mortality rate and ex- pectation of life at each age, not only. for the aggregate population, but separately for sexes and races, foreign and native population, and rural and urban population. Among the facts brought out by the new tables are a great excess of city over rural mortality, and a much greater average expectation of life at all ages among women than among men. Rural women of certain ages, however, present an exception; from ages twenty-five to thirty-one their mortality rate is greater than that of men. Wireless Phones for Navy. Experiments in wireless telephony have proved its practical value to such an extent that it will be used by the navy as an adjunct to wireless telegraphy, accord- ing to a statement issued by the public information bureau. ~Women Ask Real Bull Fight. Real bull fights now are prohibited in Mexico by decree of President Carranza. Recently contests in which the bull is not killed, known as ‘“‘novilladas,” have been sanc- tioned. These have not been particularly popular with the bull-fight enthusiasts. A delegation of Mexican society women interested in Red Cross wark called on General Carranza recently and ee BILL WEEKLY. requested that he sanction a contest for the benefit of the Red Cross in which the bull would be killed. They ex- plained that it was feared that if only denatured per- formances were advertised the receipts would not greatly swell the treasury of the Red Cross. General Carranza de- clined to comply with the request. Irrigation Dam Goes Out at Great Loss, The dam of the Price River Irrigation Company, twelve miles from Fairview, Utah, has been carried away by flood. All fears that there would be a loss of life in the towns of Schofield, Helper, Castlegate, and Colton, in the path of the eleven-thousand-acre flood of water that was released in the break, were dispelled with an announce- ment by the Rio Grande Railroad that its force of men, assisted by workers of the irrigation company, had taken hundreds of men, women, and children to safety. While officials of the irrigation company were unable to give an exact estimate of the loss to the dam, crops, and property, they declared that the damage would prob- ably exceed three million dollars. The first break in the concrete dam carried away a sec- tion from forty to fifty feet wide and five feet high. Forestry officials stationed’ at Fairview hastened to the dam and tendered their services to the irrigation com- pany. Big trees were blasted and drdgged to the-reser- voir in the hope that they would flow to the break and aid in staying the flood. They only tended to aid in breaking away more of the concrete. “Don’t Shave; Save Soap!” To cease shaving, because soap is becoming scarce, is what economists are urging in France. They estimate that a large amount of soap would be saved if barber shops were closed and all shaving soap were requisi- tioned for washing purposes only. “The soldiers don’t shave. Why, then, must civilians shave?” they ask, and they strengthen their statement by recalling that the word “poilu,’ the accepted term for a soldier, means “hairy one.” The average soldier lets his mustache ,and whiskers grow rampant all over his face. “Tommies” Use Odd Slang Terms. _ Americans think they are some bears when it comes to slinging slang, ‘but the British Tommy isn’t backward when he sets his bean to working along slangological lines, reports a correspondent with the British armies in the field. What is patter than “Emma-Gee” for a ma- chine gun, for instance? Or “O-Pip” for an observation post? One must admit that there’s some class to these terms, and while you’ve got your goggles on this column just take it from me that there’s more pep of the same mustardy standard where this came from. A “whiz-bang” is a shell of so high velocity that its whiz and its bang are almost simultaneous. A “dud” is a shell which fails to explode. — A bum handout is a “dud” meal, and a gink with a bonehead is a “dud” bo. The tip you got on the filly that was backed off the boards by the other nags on the back stretch was a “dud,” and the piece of rope the can- didate for reélection handed you was a “dud” smoke. A trench mortar is a “Joe-Emma,” and the big black ball i re eee ae a NEW of high explosive the Germans reply with is a “plum pudding.” An antiaircraft gun is an “Archibald” or an “Archie,” while the German shell which bursts with a fuzzy yellow puff of smoke is a ‘woolly bear.” To the English Tommy a German is 4 ‘Fritz,’ and “Fritz” he is to the Canadians. The Scotch call him an “Allyman,” probably after the French “Allemand,” but he is nobody to the Irish but.a “eye | ritish stat’ oficer isa) “brass. hat,’ :per- haps because of the gold braid on his cap, and Tommy’s own headgear, the steel helmet he must wear inside the shell area, is a “tin hat,” Another name given the staff officers is the “lilies,” sup- posedly on the theory that they toil not. “Blighty” is England, and “going to Blighty,” you can just bet your last specimen of spondulix, is a “little bit of all right.” A “blighty” is a small wound which invalids you home. _ A serious wound is not a “blighty,” for the very simple reason that it puts a crimp in your traveling capacity, and gives you billets in a front sick bay. If the wound is very bad, so bad that stimulants are necessary before you are operated.on, you will go to “Resurrection Ward.” “Ack-emma” is morning. “Pip-emma,’ is afternoon. And night is not infrequently caller “sawer,’ which is one way to pronotince the French word “soir.” A battle, a raid, or any operation against the enemy of a similar nature is -a “show.” A “dud show” means that: the stunt did not “come off’—in plain English, the attackers pulled a lemon. When Tommy says “Fritz got his wind-up,’ he means he suffered an attack of frappéd pedal extremities. The guns of largest caliber are “Grandpas.” The next largest are “Grandmas.” Of course, “Daddy” is next, and “Moth- er” next, and “Uncle,” “Aunty,” and the ‘kids” follow down’ the scale plum to “Emma-Gee.” The kids have all sorts of names—Willie, Harry, Sally, Polly, Mamie, Little Liz, and such, just as the gunners fancy happened to strike, Defines Intoxicating Liquor. Any drink containing alcohol was defined by the post- office department as being intoxicating diquor within the meaning of the law forbidding mailing of liquor adver- tisements into dry territory after July 1st.. Methyl, wood and denatured alcohol are excepted. The department ruled also that the prohibition against advertisements applies to liquor for scientific, sacramental, medicinal, and mechani- cal Purposes. Hoe Plouds Awe Nebraskans. The ranchers and farmers of Holt County, Nebr, are manifesting hostile attitudes toward _ the clouds of crows now to be seen in every nook and cranny of that locality. Heretofore the damage done by ravens has been .con- fined to infrequent attacks on young corn. Lately the inroads made on the farmers’ belongings have caused agri- culturists to become aware of the fact that harsh meas- ures must be resorted to in order to combat a peril of no mean proportions. One of the local men is relating stories of crows and their depredations. “Close to my house is an orchard,” he said. “In this my hens lay their eggs. As soon as a hen cackles in ecstasy over the fact that she has helped reduce the high cost of existence, down comes a flock of crows and up goes BUEP ALC) BILL WEEKLY. another egg. A crow will spot an egg, ram its bill into it, open same a little in order to hold the egg, then So? ‘fly off. They do this without alighting. They are. cun- ning, crows are. I have lain in wait for them. To date I have killed but one. Something has got to be done. Poison’ seems to have no aes on them. The situation is becoming mighty serious.” Comrades Reunite After Many Years. Fifty-four years ago, Colonel J. S. Sprangle, of Austin, Texas, and J. E. Burson, of Bristol, Tennessee, separated at Shelbyville, after the battle of Chickamauga, and never knew what had become of one another until they met in Bristol a few weeks ago. While Colonel Sprangle was returning home from the Confederate reunion at Wash- ington he learned that his old comrade resided in Bristol, so he changed his route so as to stop off there. When he arrived in the city Colonel Spranglé found that Burson was at his country home, so he engaged an automobile and started to the farm. In the meantime Burson was returning to the city. The two old. comrades met. on the roadway. It was a happy meeting. After talking over old times at-a luncheon in Bristol, the two comrades bade each other “good-by,” feeling that this was one of the ‘happiest events of their lives; . There are only six left of their company of one hundred and. twenty men. ~~ Opossum Is Star in Rumpus. There is an opossum in Joplin, Missouri, that a pto- hibitionist would value at about one hundred and twenty dollars. Also, this little animal evidently believes in a “dry” town, for he did his “bit? in bringing about that much-desired state of affairs. People who know anything about this furry little beast will be surprised at his high valuation, but—well, here’s the story: A-man by the name of Russell. runs a saloon om South Main Street, and he always had a hankering for ’possum. One day a farmer brought in a nice specimen with white fur and bright eyes. Russell bought. the. animal, and proceeded to “educate” him. Evidently he did a i job, though not in a financial way. One day recently he-decided to place his ony on. an arch over the bar, on which there were a number. of bottles of the costliest liquors and wines. No one happened :to- be looking at the time, but: saloonkeeper, patrons, and bar- tenders were “brought: to earth” suddenly by a loud La ing “in the front of the saloon. “Beat it!” “Run for your life ue and atlier cries - aued from those within. The racket increased. Biecett now discovered the catse of the “roughhouse.” There was the white ‘possum un- ceremoniously knocking costly bottles of old wines and liquors tight and left onto the tiled floor. And- each “swipe” meant a loss of from two and a:half to hye dol- lars to the saloonist. “Ts that what I brought you here for, you infernal, rat- tailed, weasel-eyed monkey? Take that, and that!” The ‘possum nimbly dodged an empty bottle, an ice pick, and a corkscrew. However, the missiles were not entirely lost, for they smashed three or four more bottles of booze.. The police, attracted by the commotion, arrived in time to save the life of the animal. An inventory disclosed the fact that the ‘possum had destroyed about one hundred and twenty dollars’ worth Hom SUNT ie eR Ome I An A AN Ae A I ie Te de ote: IE ee Nace 82 NEW BUFFALO of liquors and wines, in addition to several bottles that the saloon keeper himself “smashed” while bombarding the frisky animal. Triumph for Fish-Lute Expert. Britt Joy has the reputation of being the champion fisherman on the north shore: of Oneida Lake. Joy is not a fish pirate, but catches his fish with hook and line. He has invented more artificial bait than any other fisher- man in the county. He has now perfected a fish lure that makes his other inventions crude. Joy’s new invention consists of a transparent capsule. He places three large angleworms and a piece of dry sponge an inch square in the capsule, adjusts the cap, making it airtight, and then attaches a light sinker. When ready to fish Joy enters his rowboat, goes to the shoals, . ties a capture to his fish line, throws it into the water, and awaits results. Joy avers that the white capsule floats around in the water with the worms squirming, the com- bination attracting the fish, which immediately devour it. Joy uses a common thread to hold the capsule, and when the fish swallows the capsule he puts on another. In a few minutes a fish is seen floating upon the water. Joy rows to it and scoops it into the boat with a landing net. He explains that as soon as the fish swallows the capsule the capsule begins to melt, the sponge swells, choking the fish, and the fish comes to the surface. Joy believes that this lure is the best in use, and that if he wanted to be a fish pirate all he would have to do is to drop dozens of capsules into the water and gather in enough fish to stock a village market. Auto With False Bottom Conceals Booze. Appearances are more deceitful now than ever before. This is the unanimous opinion of police officers who are assigned to watching roads into Sioux City to prevent liquor from entering the city. A motor car with a false bottom was found by Special Officers J. J. Keefe and Charles Seloover on the Broken Kettle Road. The motor car was driven by Frank Boyles. According to the arrest- ing officers, it is to all appearances an honest automobile, but Keefe and Seloover made a thorough search of the car. Ninety-six half-pint bottles of whisky were found ‘concealed in the hollow bottom. Boyles was charged with illegal transportation of liquor and selling intoxicating liquor. ce Iffegal for Aunt to Wed Nephew. Supreme Court Justice Platzek decided that Mrs. James Milaw is her husband’s aunt, and therefore cannot be his wife undér the law of New York State. For this reason he denied her plea for a separation decree, holding there never was a valid marriage. Ten years ago, when Bessie Milaw was sixteen, she lived with her parents in a town near Libau, Russia. James Milaw, whom she considered her nephew, used to call at her home. One day James, so Mrs. Milaw contends, proposed mar- riage. She repulsed him, saying she could not marry her nephew, although she loved him. James said he was not a blood relative, and took her before his father to prove it. Mrs. Milaw asserts her brother told her he was not the father of James. James Milaw denied this in court. Not long afterward Bessie married James Milaw. They came to New York, and lived together for several years. ' her marriage with the plaintiff’s brother. BILL WEEKLY. Then came a quarrel and separation. Mrs. Milaw sued for a separation, and her husband defended on the ground their marriage was not valid because of their kinship. “T have found,” said Supreme Court Justice Platzek, in his opinion, “with some hesitation, that the defendant, James Milaw, is the legitimate child of his mother by Plaintiff and defendant are, therefore, aunt and nephew. Their mar- riage under the laws of Russia, as well as our laws, was unlawful. As there was no marriage, there can be no decree of separation.” Bull and Bullhead Luck. Alton Single went to Mud Creek to fish for bullheads. Once there, he sat down, baited his hook, dropped it into the water, and fished a full hour without receiving a bite. Becoming discouraged, he started for home. A three-year-old bull, feeding in the pasture, saw him and started for him, he says. Single climbed a tree, whose limbs are close to the ground and hang over the creek. The bull came to the tree, bellowed, and tore up the ground. When the bull showed no signs of departing, Single climbed on a limb and fished. Every time the bull bel- lowed he caught a bullhead, he declares, and when the animal was not bellowing he poked it in.the ribs with his pole to make him bellow. He caught one hundred bull- heads, he says, before the owner came with his dog and drove the bull to the barn. Footptints Save Baby for Mother. The new footprints system of identifying babies at the Maryland Getieral Hospital has cleared up a case of mis- taken identity. This system was adopted to make sure the babies in the maternity department did not “get mixed.” The footprints of every baby born at the insti- tution are kept on file, with the name of the mother. “ Laura Jones, of North Carolina, became a mother a few months ago. The footprints of the child were taken. The mother returned to North Carolina, leaving her baby in charge of another woman. About the same time a baby was found in the vestibule. The police thought Laura Jones had abandoned her infant. A relative iden- tified the foundling as the Jones baby. Recently Laura Jones came back. She knew her own baby. The police authorities were doubtful. At the hos- pital, when the footprints of the two babies were com- pared with the record, the mother proved her claim. Hubby Bites Marital Bonds. Sibyl M. Borach, who, as Tillie Zick, won honors as a dancer with the Chicago Grand Opera Company, testi- fied to her charges of cruelty against Lewis M. Borach in a hearing of her divorce suit before Judge Thomson recently. His favorite form of cruelty was holding her by the hands and biting her face, she alleged, in a Chicago court, and he .also knocked her against the wall a time or two. Judge Thomson indicated that he would grant her a decree. Mrs. Borach first married her present husband in San Antonio, Texas, but the marriage was later annulled. They met again in Jersey City in July, rors, and were again married. ig eae ee > ae New Buffalo Bill ves Weekly 3 There is no need of our telling American readers how interesting the stories of the adventures of Buffalo Bill, as scout and plainsman, really are. These stories have been read exclusively in this weekly for many years, and are voted to be masterpieces of Western adventure fiction. i Buffalo Bill is more popular to-day than he ever was, and, consequently, everybody ought to know all there is to know about him. In no manner can you become so thoroughly acquainted with the actual habits and life of this great man, as by reading the New Buffalo Bill Weekly. We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print. You can have your news dealer order them or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in money or postage stamps. 40—Buffalo Bill’s Cold Trail. 41—-Buffalo Bill’s Iron Fist. 42—Buffalo Bill's Race with Fire. 43—Buffalo Bill's Florida Foes. 44—_Buffalo Bill’s Grim Climb. 45—Buffalo Bill's Red Enemy. 46—Buffalo Bill on a Traitor’s Track. 47—Buffalo Bill’s Terrible Odds. 48—Buffalo Bill's Air Voyage. 49—Buffalo Bill's Death Thrust. 50—Buffalo Bill’s Kiowa Foe. 51—Buffalo Bill's Terrible Throw. 52—-Buffalo Bill’s Wyoming Trail. 53—Buffalo Bill's Dakota Peril. 54—Buffalo Bill’s Tomahawk Duel. 55—Buffalo Bill’s Apache Round-up. 56—Buffalo Bill’s El Paso Pard. 57—Buffalo Bill's Rio Grande Feud. 58—Buffalo Bill in Tight Quarters. 59—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Rescue. 60—Buffalo Bill at the Torture Stake. 61—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Train. 62—Buffalo Bill Among the Blackfeet. 63—Buffalo Bill’s Border Beagles. 64—Buffalo Bill and the Bandits in Black. 65—Buffalo Bill on the Deadwood Trail. 66— Buffalo Bill in the Cafion of Death. 67—Buffalo Bill and Billy, the Kid. 68—Buffalo Bill and the Robber Ranch. 69—Buffalo Bill in the Land of Wonders. 70—Buffalo Bill and the Traitor Soldier. 71—Buffalo Bill’s Dusky Trailers. 72—Buffalo Bill's Diamond Mine. 73—Buffalo Bill and the Pawnee Serpent. 74—Buffalo Bill’s Scarlet Hand. 75—Buffalo Bill Running the Gantlet. 76—Buffalo Bill's Leap in the Dark. 77—Buffalo Bill’s Daring Plunge. 78—Buffalo Bill's Desperate Mission. 79—Buffalo Bill's Ghost Raid. 80—Buffalo Bill’s Traitor Guide. 81—Buffalo Bill’s Camp Fires. 82—Buffalo Bill Up a Stump. 83—Buffalo Bill's Secret Foe. 84—Buffalo Bill’s Master Stroke. 85—Buffalo Bill and the Skeleton Horse- man. 86—Buffalo Bill and the Brazos Terror. 87—Buffalo Bill’s Dance of Death. 88—Buffalo Bill and the Creeping Terror. 89—Buffalo Bill and the Brand of Cain. 90—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Millionaire. 91—Buffalo Bill’s Medicine Lodge. 92—Buffalo Bill in Peril. 93—Buffalo Bill's Strange Pard. 94—Buffalo Bill in the Death Desert. 95—Buffalo Bill in No-Man’s Land. 96—Buffalo Bill’s Border Ruffians. 97—Buffalo Bill’s Black Eagles. 98—Buffalo Bill's Rival. 99—Buffalo Bill and the Boy Bugler. 100—Buffalo Bill and the White Specter. 101—Buffalo Bill's Death Defiance. 102—Buffalo Bill and the Barge Bandits. 103—Buffalo Bill, the Desert Hotspur. 104—-Buffalo Bill’s Wild Range Riders. 105—Buffalo Bill's Red Retribution. 106—Buffalo Bill’s Death Jump. 107—Buffalo Bill’s Aztec Runners. 108—Buffalo Bill's Fiery Eve. 109—Buffalo Bill’s Gypsy Band. 110—Buffalo Bill’s Maverick. 111—Buffalo Bill, the White Whirlwind. 112—-Buffalo Bill in Old Mexico. 113—Buffalo Bill’s Flying Wonder. 114—-Buffalo Bill’s Ice Chase. 115—Buffalo Bill's Gold Hunters. 116—Butfalo Bill and the Wolf Master. 117—Buffalo Bill’s Message from the Dead. 118—Buffalo Bill’s Desperate Dozen. 119—Buffalo Bill’s Whirlwind Chase. 120—Buffalo Bill Haunted. 121—Buffalo Bill’s Fight for Life. 122—Buffalo Bill and the Pit of Horror. 128—Buffalo Bill in the Jaws of Death. 124—Buffalo Bill’s Dance With Death. 125—Buffalo Bill’s Hidden Gold. 126—Buffalo Bill’s Outlaw Trail. 127—Buffalo Bill and the Indian Queen. 128—Buffalo Bill and the Mad Marauder. 129—Buffalo Bill’s Ghost Dance. 130—Buffalo Bill's Peace Pipe. 131—Buffalo Bill’s Red Nemesis. 132—Buffalo Bill’s Enchanted Mesa. 133—Buffalo Bill in the Desert of Death. 134—Buffalo Bill’s Pay Streak. 135—Buffalo Bill on Detached Duty. 136—Buffalo Bill’s Army Mystery. 137—Buffalo Bill's Surprise Party. 138—Buffalo Bill’s Great Ride. 1839—Buffalo Bill’s Water Trail. 140—Buffalo Bill's Ordeal of Fire. 141—Buffalo Bill Among the Man-eaters. 142—Buffalo Bill’s Casket of Pearls. 1432—Buffalo Bill's Sky Pilot. 144—Buffalo Bill’s Totem. 145—Buffalo Bill's Flatboat Drift. 146— Buffalo Bill on Deck. 147—Buffalo Bill and the Bronchobuster. 148—Buffalo Bill’s Great Round-up. 149—Buffalo Bill’s Pledge. 150—Buffalo Bill’s Cowboy Pard. 151—Buffalo Bill and the Emigrants. 152—Buffalo Bill Among the Pueblos. 1538—Buffalo Bill’s Four-footed Pards. 154—Buffalo Bill’s Protégé. 155—Buffalo Bill Ensnared. 156—Buffalo Bill's Pick-up. 157—Buffalo Bill’s Quest. 158—Buffalo Bill’s Waif of the Plains. 159—Buffalo Bill Baffled. 160—Buffalo Bill Among the Mormons. 161—Buffalo Bill’s Assistance. 162—Buffalo Bill’s Rattlesnake Trail. 163—Buffalo Bill-and the Slave Dealer. 164—Buffalo Bill’s Strong Arm. 165—Buffalo Bill's Girl Pard. 166—Buffalo Bill’s Iron Bracelets. 167—Buffalo Bill's ““Paper Talk.”’ 168—Buffalo Bill's Bridge of Fire. 169—Buffalo Bill’s Bowie. 170—Buffalo Bill and the Forty Thieves. 171—Buffalo Bill’s Mine. 172—Buffalo Bill's Clean-up. 173—Buffalo Bill’s Ruse. 174—Buffalo Bill Overboard. 175—Buffalo Bill's Ring. 176—Buffalo Bill’s Big Contract. 177—Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane. 178—Buffalo Bill's Kid Pard. 179—Buffalo Bill's Desperate Plight. 180—Buffalo Bill’s Fearless Stand. 181—Buffalo Bill and the Yelping Crew. 182—Buffalo Bill’s Guiding Hand. 183—Buffalo Bill’s Queer Quest. 184—-Buffalo Bill’s Prize “‘“Get-away.”’ 185—Buffalo Bill’s Hurricane Hustle. 186—Buffalo Bill’s Star Play. 187—Buffalo Bill’s Bluff. 188—Buffalo Bill’s Trackers. 189—Buffalo Bill’s Dutch Pard. 190—Buffalo Bill and the Bravo. 191—Buffalo Bill and the Quaker. 192—Buffalo Bill's Package of Death. 193—Buffalo Bill’s Treasure Cache. 194—Buffalo Bill’s Private War. 195—Buffalo Bill and the Trouble-hunter. 196—Buffalo Bill and the Rope Wizard. 197—Buffalo Bill's Fiesta. 198—Buffalo Bill Among the Cheyennes. 199—Buffalo Bill Besieged. 200—Buffalo Bill and the Red Hand. 201—Buffalo Bill’s Tree-Trunk Drift. 202—Buffalo Bill and the Specter. 205—Buffalo Bill's Secret Message. 204—Buffalo Bill and the Horde of Her- mosa. 205—Buffalo Bill’s Lonesome Trail. 206—Buffalo Bill's Quarry. 207—Buffalo Bill in Deadwood. 208—Buffalo Bill’s First Aid. £09—Buffalo Bill and Old Moonlight. 210—Buffalo Bill Repaid. 211—Buffalo Bill’s Throwback. i 212—Buffalo Bill's ‘““Sight-Unseen.”’ 213—Buffalo Bill's New Pard. 214—Buffalo Bill's Winged Victory. 215—Buffalo Bill's “‘Pieces-of-Eight.” 216—Buffalo Bill and the Eight Vaqueros. 217—Buffalo Bill's Unlucky Siesta. 218—Buffalo Bill's Apache Clue. 219—Buffalo Bill and the Apache Totem. 220—Buffalo Bill’s Golden Wonder. 221—Buffalo Bill’s Fiesta Night. 222—Buffalo Bill and the Hatchet Boys. 223— Buffalo Bill and the Mining Shark. 224—Buffalo Bill and the Cattle Barons. 225—Buffalo Bill’s Long Odds. 226—Buffalo Bill, the Peace Maker. 227—Buffalo Bill’s Promise to Pay. 228—Buffalo Bill’s Diamond Hitch. 229—Buffalo Bill and the Wheel of Fate. 230—Buffalo Bill and the Pool of Mystery. 221—Buffalo Bill and the Deserter. 232—Buffalo Bill’s Island in the Air. 233—Buffalo Bill, Town Marshal. 234—Buffalo Bill’s Ultimatum. 235—Buffalo Bill’s Test. 236—Buffalo Bill and the Ponca Raiders. 237—Buffalo Bill’s Boldest Stroke. 238—Buffalo Bill’s Enigma. 239—Buffalo Bill’s Blockade. 240—Buffalo Bill and the Gilded Clique. 241—Buffalo Bill and Perdita Reyes. 242-—Buffalo Bill and the Boomers. 243—-Buffalo Bill Calls a Halt. 244—-Buffalo Bill and the Ke-Week Totem. 245—Buffalo Bill’s O. K. 246—Buffalo Bill at Cafion Diablo. 247—Buffalo Bill’s Transfer. 248—Buffalo Bill and the Red Horse Hunt- ers. 249—Buffalo Bill’s Dangerous Duty. 250—Buffalo Bill and the Chief’s Daughter. 251—Buffalo Bill at Tinaja Wells. 252—Buffalo Bill and the Men of Mendon. 253—Buffalo Bill at Rainbow’s End. 254—Buffalo Bill and the Russian Plot. 255—Buffalo Bill’s Red Triangle. 256—Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush... Dated August 11th. 1917. 257—Buffalo Bill's Tramp Pard. Dated August 18th, 1917. 258—Buffalo Bill on the Upper Missouri. Dated August 25th, 1917. 259—Buffalo Bill’s Crow Scout. Dated September 1st, 1917. 260—Buffalo Bill's Opium Case. PRICE, SIX CENTS PER COPY. If you want any back numbers of our weeklies and cannot procure them from your newé dealer, they can be obtained direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money. STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., New York City