Buffalo Bill, Peacemaker OR, ON A TROUBLESOME TRAIL BY Colonel Prentiss Ingraham Author of the celebrated âBuffalo Billâ stories published in the BORDER STORIES. For other titles see catalogue. [Illustration: (Colophon)] STREET & SMITH CORPORATION PUBLISHERS 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York +----------------------------------+ | | | Copyright, 1910 | | By STREET & SMITH | | ----- | | Buffalo Bill, Peacemaker | | | +----------------------------------+ (Printed in the United States of America) All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian. CONTENTS PAGE IN APPRECIATION OF WILLIAM F. CODY 1 I. THE PRISONER IN THE DUGOUT. 5 II. THE GAME OF âFREEZE OUT.â 12 III. FLUSH DAYS IN TEXAS. 31 IV. THE SKY PILOT TAKES A HAND. 44 V. âCOME-ALONGS.â 51 VI. PARDS IN COUNCIL. 58 VII. AT THE H-P RANCH. 64 VIII. A DASH FOR FREEDOM. 71 IX. DUTCH COURAGE. 84 X. IN TROUBLED WATERS. 97 XI. THE MAN WITH A WARNING. 109 XII. AT LIGE BENNERâS RANCH. 121 XIII. A FIENDISH PLOT. 134 XIV. THE HUNCHBACKâS QUICK WIT. 141 XV. A âFLASH IN THE PAN.â 148 XVI. HELD BY THE ENEMY. 155 XVII. THE PLOT AT HACKAMORE. 168 XVIII. BUFFALO BILLâS SUMMONS. 175 XIX. AT ODDS WITH THE SHERIFF. 182 XX. IN A GOOD CAUSE. 196 XXI. LONG ODDS. 202 XXII. PEACE ON THE BRAZOS. 209 XXIII. RED THUNDERBOLT. 214 XXIV. THE QUARREL. 225 XXV. SIM PIERCE BRINGS NEWS. 244 XXVI. THE MOB FROM PHELPSâ RANCH. 257 XXVII. BENNERâS CHANGE OF HEART. 270 XXVIII. IN THE ENEMYâS CAMP. 282 XXIX. RED STEVE. 295 XXX. CONCLUSION. 307 IN APPRECIATION OF WILLIAM F. CODY (BUFFALO BILL). It is now some generations since Josh Billings, Ned Buntline, and Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, intimate friends of Colonel William F. Cody, used to forgather in the office of Francis S. Smith, then proprietor of the _New York Weekly_. It was a dingy little office on Rose Street, New York, but the breath of the great outdoors stirred there when these old-timers got together. As a result of these conversations, Colonel Ingraham and Ned Buntline began to write of the adventures of Buffalo Bill for Street & Smith. Colonel Cody was born in Scott County, Iowa, February 26, 1846. Before he had reached his teens, his father, Isaac Cody, with his mother and two sisters, migrated to Kansas, which at that time was little more than a wilderness. When the elder Cody was killed shortly afterward in the Kansas âBorder War,â young Bill assumed the difficult rÃ´le of family breadwinner. During 1860, and until the outbreak of the Civil War, Cody lived the arduous life of a pony-express rider. Cody volunteered his services as government scout and guide and served throughout the Civil War with Generals McNeil and A. J. Smith. He was a distinguished member of the Seventh Kansas Cavalry. During the Civil War, while riding through the streets of St. Louis, Cody rescued a frightened schoolgirl from a band of annoyers. In true romantic style, Cody and Louisa Federci, the girl, were married March 6, 1866. In 1867 Cody was employed to furnish a specified amount of buffalo meat to the construction men at work on the Kansas Pacific Railroad. It was in this period that he received the sobriquet âBuffalo Bill.â In 1868 and for four years thereafter Colonel Cody served as scout and guide in campaigns against the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. It was General Sheridan who conferred on Cody the honor of chief of scouts of the command. After completing a period of service in the Nebraska legislature, Cody joined the Fifth Cavalry in 1876, and was again appointed chief of scouts. Colonel Codyâs fame had reached the East long before, and a great many New Yorkers went out to see him and join in his buffalo hunts, including such men as August Belmont, James Gordon Bennett, Anson Stager, and J. G. Heckscher. In entertaining these visitors at Fort McPherson, Cody was accustomed to arrange wild-West exhibitions. In return his friends invited him to visit New York. It was upon seeing his first play in the metropolis that Cody conceived the idea of going into the show business. Assisted by Ned Buntline, novelist, and Colonel Ingraham, he started his âWild Westâ show, which later developed and expanded into âA Congress of the Rough Riders of the World,â first presented at Omaha, Nebraska. In time it became a familiar yearly entertainment in the great cities of this country and Europe. Many famous personages attended the performances, and became his warm friends, including Mr. Gladstone, the Marquis of Lorne, King Edward, Queen Victoria, and the Prince of Wales, now King of England. At the outbreak of the Sioux, in 1890 and 1891, Colonel Cody served at the head of the Nebraska National Guard. In 1895 Cody took up the development of Wyoming Valley by introducing irrigation. Not long afterward he became judge advocate general of the Wyoming National Guard. Colonel Cody (Buffalo Bill) died in Denver, Colorado, on January 10, 1917. His legacy to a grateful world was a large share in the development of the West, and a multitude of achievements in horsemanship, marksmanship, and endurance that will live for ages. His life will continue to be a leading example of the manliness, courage, and devotion to duty that belonged to a picturesque phase of American life now passed, like the great patriot whose career it typified, into the Great Beyond. BUFFALO BILL, PEACEMAKER. CHAPTER I. THE PRISONER IN THE DUGOUT. Fate was in a very capricious mood when Buffalo Bill and his pards carried their activities into the Lone Star State. They galloped over the plains and plunged full tilt into one of the most surprising misplays ever made by that arrant gamester--Chance. There was a triangle of blunders, and it so happened that there was a pard in each corner, ready to take advantage of what came his way and turn misfortune into fortune for Cattleman Perry, his daughter Hattie, and a worthy cowboy of the name of Dunbar. The powerful clique of cattle barons were beaten at their own game of freeze out--and for this they had the scout and his pards to thank. Buffalo Bill dropped into his corner of the complication on the wide grazing grounds, en route to the town of Hackamore, where he was to join Wild Bill, old Nomad, the trapper, who had shared many dangers with the scout, Baron von Schuitzenhauser, his Dutch pard, and Little Cayuse, his Indian trailer. And when it is said that he âdroppedâ into the complication, the statement is to be taken literally. It was a night, a night made brilliant by moon and stars. The scout was two days from Portales, New Mexico, having diverged from the trail taken by his pards in order to halt for half a day in the town of Texico. Buffalo Bill was off the trail, a plainsman having shown him a short cut that was to save many miles of saddle work. As Bear Paw forged ahead at a slow, steady gallop, the scout rocked gently in his saddle, half dozing. He did not see the stovepipe that rose out of the ground in front of him, nor did he see the little ridgelike lifting of the earth adjacent to the stovepipe. Bear Paw saw the pipe, however, and to evade it attempted to cross the small elevation. Intelligent horse though he was, how was he to know that elevation was not solid earth? The black charger was in for a surprise. It was sprung with demoralizing suddenness. Two strides carried Bear Paw over the high point of the ridge; a third stride brought a crash under his rear hoofs, and the after part of his body slumped downward. A startled yell, seemingly coming out of the very earth, smote on the scoutâs ears. Caught at a disadvantage by the accident, Buffalo Bill was thrown backward out of his saddle and clear of the struggling horse. Bear Pawâs front hoofs were on solid ground and, with a prodigious effort, he saved himself from sinking and clambered to safety beyond the deceptive ridge. But the scout dropped through the breach, grabbed at a log rafter, missed it, and fell in a huddle for a distance of ten feet. He brought up on all fours, jarred through and through and blinking in a cloud of dust and a flood of lamplight. A clutter of dirt and broken poles lay around him. The transformation from an easy gallop over the cool, open plain to this underground hole with its light and dust, had been so abrupt that the scout was taken at a loss. But he was not the only one taken at a loss. In front of him, as the flurry of dust was wafted aside, he saw a strapping figure in hickory shirt, homespun trousers and cowhide boots--a figure topped with a mop of red hair, under which was a lean, leathery face. The face of the figure was blank. Two washed-out blue eyes stared at the scout; and the scout, on hands and knees, stared back. âWho in blazes are ye?â demanded the red-headed man, all at once finding his voice. âA stranger and a traveler,â answered the scout, the ludicrous nature of the situation gradually appealing to him. âA man who--er--a-tchoo!â âWhat dâye mean by knockinâ a hole in the roof anâ slamminâ in on me like this?â went on the other, coming out of his surprise with a manner distinctly hostile. The scout picked himself up slowly, felt of his bruises, and gave vent to a grewsome laugh. âIf you think, amigo, that I meant to knock a hole in your roof,â said he, âyouâve another guess coming. If I had planned to pay you a visit I wouldnât have gone about it like this, would I?â âHow do I know who ye are, or what yeâd do?â fumed the other, far and away more savage than the scout thought the mishap warranted. âI donât want no truck with ye, anyways. If ye didnât allow ter pay me a visit, anâ if ye ainât here from châice, then yore next move is ter git out as quick as ye come in. Themâs the stairsâ--he waved a hand toward a ladder that led upward to a flat door in the roof--âanâ at the same time we says hello, we also says good-by. Start yerself.â âIâm not inclined to stay here any longer than you want to have me,â answered the scout, âbut I landed with something of a jolt. If itâs all the same to you, Iâll just catch my breath before I try the stairs.â âIt ainât all the same ter me,â barked the man. âI want ye ter go, anâ I want ye ter go ter oncet! With this ter back up the invite, I reckon ye wonât stand none on the order ter hike.â The red-haired man made a swipe at his belt and lifted a hairy hand with a six-shooter. Buffalo Bill looked him in the eye and then coolly sat down on a two-legged stool that happened to be handy. âIâve heard a good deal about Texas hospitality,â said he, âbut youâre giving it a hardware twist that I donât like. And when I donât like a thing,â he added significantly, âIâm apt to make it pretty plain.â âYe kainât run in any rannikaboo on me,â snorted the red-haired person, jabbing the air with the point of his gun. âYe say yer drappinâ in was a accident. Iâm lettinâ it go at that, anâ givinâ ye a chance ter depart without any fireworks. Anâ I ainât sayinâ nothinâ about the damage ye done ter the dugout, nuther. Pick up yore hat anâ scatter. Iâll count three. When I say âone,â yeâll reach fer the hat; when I say âtwo,â yeâll be on the stairs; anâ when I say âthree,â yeâll either be through that door in the roof or Iâll drop ye in yer tracks.â The barbarous methods of this red-haired man were utterly uncalled for. He was showing a spirit that needed taming. Buffalo Bill dropped his eyes to the litter on the floor. His hat lay there, and from under the brim of the hat showed two inches of revolver-muzzle. One of the scoutâs six-shooters had been jarred from his belt and had fallen under the sombrero. âOne!â The word was a yelp, and the blued barrel of the Texanâs gun looked the scout full in the face. âAll right,â said Buffalo Bill cheerily. He reached for his hat with both hands. But only one hand picked up the hat; the other caught the handle of the six-shooter. Then something happened which the Texan had not been looking for. As the scout arose from the stool, the report of a firearm split the air. A bullet passed through the crown of the sombrero, singed the Texanâs ear and clipped a lock of his red hair. For an instant, barely an instant, the Texanâs revolver shook uncertainly. That instant spelled opportunity for the scout. With the speed of thought he grabbed the hostile gun, jerked it away, and looked over the sights at its owner. âWhy donât you count âtwo?ââ inquired the scout pleasantly. But the Texan had lost the count. Instead of trying to find it, and go on with it, he began to swear. âSit down,â ordered Buffalo Bill. âIâve caught my breath, all right, but I want to read you a lesson in common civility, and show you how to treat a traveler who accidentally drops in on you through the roof of your dugout.â Some one laughed. It was not the red-haired man, of course, for he was in anything but a merry mood. The laughter came from behind the scout, and was the first intimation that there was any one else in the place. The scout could not very well turn from the red-haired man and investigate. âWhoâs doing that?â he demanded. âYou git right out oâ here!â flamed the red-haired man. âThis ainât none oâ yore put-in, or----â âI wasnât talking to you,â cut in the scout sharply. âWho are you, behind there?â âNate Dunbar,â came the answer. âIf youâre a friend of this red-headed rawhide, Dunbar,â proceeded the scout, âwhy donât you step up behind me and help him put me out?â âFor two reasons,â answered the voice behind. âFirst off, neighbor, Iâm no friend of Red Steveâs. Then, again, Iâm lashed and laid away on the shelf. If I was able to move, Iâd take Red Steve down and choke the breath out of him.â âDunbarâs a hoss thief that Iâve captured,â cried Red Steve, âanâ I want ye ter go on erbout yore bizness anâ leave us alone.â âIâm no horse thief,â said Dunbar, âand Red Steve talks crooked. Heâs working for Benner, and Phelps, and the rest of those cattle barons on the Brazos. Itâs tin-horn work, too, and Red has to use the double tongue.â âI thought there was something more than just common incivility back of his treatment of me,â observed the scout, a glitter rising in the eyes that looked across the revolver sights. âDonât you try to talk!â he said sternly to the man in front of him. âWalk around and take the ropes off Dunbar. When I count âone,â youâll begin to move; when I say âtwo,â youâll begin on the ropes; and when I finish with âthree,â if Dunbar isnât clear of his bonds, Iâll do something more than singe your ear and take a lock of your red hair. Chance, it seems, has bobbled, and dropped me into the right place at just about the right time. Now, then, one!â There was that in the scoutâs eyes and manner which caused Red Steve to start promptly toward the other side of the dugout. As he moved, the scout turned on the stool and let the revolver follow him. CHAPTER II. THE GAME OF âFREEZE OUT.â On the plains of northwest Texas, in an early day, the dugout was a popular institution. No wind could shake such a house, and no earthquake could topple it over. In most structures, a man begins at the bottom and builds to the top, but in a dwelling like that under consideration a man begins at the top and works downward. The usual underground house measured about fifteen by twenty feet, and was from seven to ten feet in height. Some three feet from the floor the walls were abruptly widened out, thus giving a shelf in the earthen wall. This shelf extended around the whole room, and was three feet in width--or more or less according to the fancy of the owner. The shelf took the place of chairs, of dining table and of bunks. A few three-legged stools might be added, if the one who occupied the underground house had the wood and the time necessary to make them. A fireplace was usually cut in the solid dirt wall and, with an ordinary posthole augur, a chimney was bored down to it. A joint of stovepipe, extending upward from the top of the hole, gave the fireplace a chance to breathe. The construction of the roof was as simple as that of the rest of the house. A log was laid lengthwise across the top of the dugout, in the direction of its greatest length. This was the ridgepole. Smaller logs were then placed with one end on this and the other on the ground. Poles covered the rafters, hay covered the poles, and a layer of earth covered the hay. A door was contrived in the slant of roof from the ridgepole. Stairs communicating with the door were sometimes cut in the solid earth, and sometimes--as in the case of Red Steveâs dugout--the only stairway was a stepladder. In a cattle country, where cowboys go galloping recklessly over the range, or where longhorns occasionally stampede, it stands the dugout dweller in hand to make his roof exceptionally strong. Either Red Steve had failed to make his roof of the proper strength, or else age had weakened it. This was not the scoutâs first visit to such a house, but it was the first time he had ever dropped bodily into a dugout and into the curious tangle he had found in this one. A tin lamp stood on the earthen shelf. Red Steve, covered by the scoutâs revolver, moved sullenly to the shelf at the end of the dugout. There, somewhat in the shadow, lay the form of a cowboy. The scout could not see much of him, but he knew very well that he would see more of him later. âTwo!â called Buffalo Bill. âThatâs your cue to begin the untying, Red Steve.â âThis ainât goinâ ter be the end of this,â snarled the red-haired Texan. âYe ainât got no bizness buttinâ in on me anâ makinâ me let this feller go. Some big men over on the Brazosâll call ye ter time fer it.â âIâll foot any bill the big men over on the Brazos present,â returned the scout. âMeanwhile, you heard what I said a minute ago, Red Steve. Carry out your orders and thereâll be no trouble.â âBut ye donât understand! This here galoot is a villain from the spurs up, so----â âI canât see much of him, but if heâs more of a villain than youâve shown yourself to be, Iâll be more surprised than I was when I dropped through your roof. I said âtwoâ all of a minute ago,â the scout finished significantly. Swearing under his breath, Red Steve went roughly to work at the ropes on the prisonerâs hands. âHeâs trying to tear my arms off, I reckon,â growled Nate Dunbar. Bang! Steveâs weapon spoke hoarsely from the scoutâs hand. A bullet âplunkedâ into the earth wall over the shelf, fanning close to Steveâs face. âI havenât counted âthree,â yet,â said the scout, âso thatâs only a warning. Be a little more careful, Steve.â The red-haired man, by that time, was firmly convinced that his unwelcome visitor had not been talking for effect. In a few moments he had removed the ropes. Dunbar got off the shelf and stamped his feet and thrashed his arms to get his blood back into normal circulation. As he came out farther into the lamplight, Buffalo Bill saw that he was an athletic young fellow, of about twenty-one or two. He wore the high-heeled boots of a cowboy, âchapsâ were buckled about his waist, and a blue flannel shirt covered his broad shoulders. His face was frank and pleasing, not to say handsome. âYou donât know much about me, pardner,â he remarked to Buffalo Bill, âbut I can show a clean record.â âIâll gamble on that, amigo,â said the scout. âJust from the looks of you, Dunbar, Iâm positive I havenât made any mistake. How did you happen to fall into Red Steveâs clutches?â âIt was a put-up job,â was the answer. âSteveâs working for the cattlemen over on the Brazos, and they were paying him to keep me here until they figured out what to do with me.â âAre you a rancher?â âIâm a cattleman, and Iâve an interest in Dick Perryâs bunch of steers.â âWhoâs Dick Perry?â âHeâs the man the other cattlemen are trying to freeze out.â A scowl came over Dunbarâs face and his eye flashed ominously. âWhy are the cattle barons trying to freeze him out?â asked the scout, conscious of a deep interest in the young cowboy and his fortunes. âItâs all on account of Hattie.â âHattie?â âYes, Hattie Perry, Dickâs girl.â âAh! Weâre running into romance, I reckon.â The scowl faded from Dunbarâs face and a flush ran through his bronzed cheeks. âYouâve been a friend of mine, stranger,â said he, âand I donât mind throwing the proposition wide open for you. Lige Benner has wanted to marry Hattie for some time, and he asked her and got turned down. But that didnât phase him, and he went to Dick with his proposition and got turned down again. Benner has acted like more kind of a wolf in this business than I know how to tell. When Perry turned on him, and told him where he was to get off, he swore that heâd make Perry so much trouble that Perry would give up Hattie just to be able to live in peace. âRight then and there, Benner started in to make trouble. Perryâs steers were run off in bunches, some of the ranch buildings were burned, and cowboys from up and down the Brazos came pestering around, doing all sorts of sneaking and underhand things. Every now and then, Benner has some skulking puncher nail a note to the ranch-house door telling Perry that he knows what to do when heâs got enough.â The scout muttered an angry exclamation. âThatâs a fine state of affairs,â said he. âI shouldnât think the other cattlemen would stand for such rascally work.â âNor I, either; but they do. The rest of the barons are friends of Bennerâs, and theyâre backing him to a man. Perryâs a late comer on the range, and the cattlemen would like to run him out. I reckon thatâs the reason theyâre standing by Benner like they are.â âBut what has Benner got against you, Dunbar, that he should have you roped and given into the custody of Red Steve?â âWell, stranger,â answered Nate Dunbar, with some embarrassment, âHattie has promised to marry me, and thatâs reason enough for Benner taking the sort of stand against me that he does.â âOh!â exclaimed the scout, âso thatâs how the wind blows, is it? This free country of ours has dropped into a fine state of lawlessness if a young lady canât choose her own husband without turning loose the dogs of war. What does Dick Perry think about you, Nate?â âHeâs on my side. Didnât I tell you I had an interest in his ranch? Weâre friends, Dick and I are. Bennerâs rich, but that doesnât make any difference with Hattie. Sheâs true blue, and all for me no matter what happens. But I sure hate to have all this trouble come upon her and her father.â The scout, still keeping the business end of the revolver unswervingly upon Red Steve, debated the situation in his mind. âHow did Benner manage to get hold of you, Nate?â he inquired. âI was out looking for strayed or stolen cattle,â said Dunbar, âwhen half a dozen of Bennerâs men jumped me. It was in a dry wash, and the whelps rolled down on me so quick I couldnât do a thing. It was yesterday this happened, and I was lugged to this dugout and left in the hands of Red Steve.â âAs scoundrelly a game as was ever played,â declared the scout, âand it doesnât speak very well for the cattlemen in these parts.â âThese are flush days on this part of the range,â went on Dunbar; âanything with horns, hoofs and hide comes pretty near being worth its weight in gold. All the barons on the Brazos are rich, and Perry would be worth quite a pile if the rest of the ranchers would only let him and his stock alone. It ought to be stopped. By thunder, itâs a disgrace the way Perry is being treated.â âYouâre right,â said the scout, âthis hectoring ought to be stopped. Iâve a notion to bear a hand and help you and Perry put an end to the lawless situation.â A scornful laugh broke from Red Steveâs lips. âYou fellers âuâd play hob puttinâ a kink in this game oâ the cattle barons,â he taunted. âTheâs half a dozen of âem anâ two or three hunnerd cowboys. Oh, yes, yeâll play hob stoppinâ âem!â A look of fierce helplessness crossed Nate Dunbarâs face. âIf we canât stop the lawless work,â he cried desperately, âthere are still bushes at the trailside where a man can lurk and pick off some of the demons whoâre causing this trouble.â âThatâs not the talk for a brave young chap like you to put up, Dunbar,â said the scout sternly. âWeâll see what we can do to end this rough situation by more honorable methods.â âWho are you?â demanded Dunbar, facing the scout squarely. âBuffalo Bill is what Iâm usually called,â was the reply. The words caused a sensation. Dunbar jumped, and stared; Red Steve also jumped, but in the direction of the ladder. âCatch that man!â called the scout. âIâve got a horse outside, and I donât want him to get away with it.â Dunbar caught Red Steve and jerked him roughly from the ladder. The spirit seemed to have been all taken out of Steve. His greatest desire now, it seemed, was to keep as great a distance between him and the scout as he could. Pushing against the earthen shelf on the farther side of the room, he watched the scout with weasel-like eyes. âWhere were you going in such a hurry, Red Steve?â demanded the scout. âI donât want no truck with you, thatâs all,â answered the red-haired Texan. âI donât want nothinâ ter do with ye, anâ thatâs flat.â âThen you were merely trying to cut loose from my society?â âI wanted ter git out, anâ I want ter git out now. Why the blazes didnât ye say ye was Buffler Bill afore? If ye had, Iâd âaâ got out a heap quicker. Dâyou hold any spite fer me drorinâ the gun on ye?â âNot a particle, Red Steve,â laughed the scout. âYou were trying to run away from here and strike a bee line for the Brazos. You were planning to tell the cattle barons that Buffalo Bill had shown up in this section and was going to help Nate Dunbar and Dick Perry regain their rancherâs rights.â âHow--howâd you know that?â âIâm a good hand at guessing. Iâve no objection to your carrying that message, Red Steve, but Iâve a horse somewhere outside, and I didnât want you to run off with him. As soon as Dunbar and I leave the dugout, youâll be free to hike for the Brazos. Tell Benner and the rest of the cattle barons that Buffalo Bill, as usual, is taking the part of the under dog, that heâs going to extend a helping hand to Nate Dunbar and the Perrys, and that he and his pards will stay in this section long enough to make peace on the Brazos and to shake a foot at the wedding of Nate Dunbar and Miss Perry. All this youâre to tell Benner, Steve, and make it plain to him that it comes from me straight. I didnât come loping in here to stir up trouble, but now that Iâve found it stirred up, Iâm going to put a shoulder to the wheel and settle it.â The scout turned to Dunbar. âHave you any property in this hangout, Nate?â he asked. âThat gun you took away from Red Steve belongs to me, Buffalo Bill,â was the reply. âThatâs about all I brought with me except my clothes.â âWhat became of your horse?â âThat was left with Red Steveâs in a swale to the south of the hangout.â âThen, amigo, hereâs your gun, and weâll be going.â The scout motioned Dunbar toward the ladder. The cowboy started up. âDonât forget what I told you to tell Benner, Steve,â cautioned the scout as he followed Dunbar. âIf this outfit of cattle barons gets in my way, weâre liable to juggle the hatchet somewhat before we bury it.â As the scout stepped through the slanting door in the roof, a husky laugh floated upward from Red Steve. âWhat do you suppose that means?â asked Buffalo Bill of Dunbar. âWhy,â was the answer, âyou had Steve going, down there, anâ I reckon he feels good to see the last of you.â âYouâre wide of the mark, Nate. That scoundrel knows something that he thinks will give our work the double cross. But,â the scout added grimly, âthatâs a bridge weâll cross when we get to it.â Pointing to a jagged break in the roof of the dugout, he went on: âThatâs where Bear Paw broke through with his hind hoofs, rolled me out of the saddle and dropped me below. I hope the horse wasnât hurt.â He whistled sharply. The shrill signal was answered by a loud neigh and a thump of approaching hoofs. Another moment and the gallant black was rubbing his nose against the scoutâs shoulder. âI suppose, old sport,â laughed the scout, slapping Bear Pawâs neck, âthat you hadnât a notion what had become of me. Thatâs the queerest adventure weâve had in some sort of a while, eh? How did you come through it, boy?â As well as he could the scout examined the horse. An exclamation of relief escaped his lips. âHis shins are skinned a little,â he announced to Dunbar, âbut he came through that affair a heap better than I had dared to hope. Get your horse, Nate,â he added, vaulting into the saddle, âand weâll be touching the high places.â Dunbar started south and vanished into a shallow swale. The scout rode after him. âThe horses are here, all right,â called Nate, âbut I canât locate the riding gear.â âWasnât it taken to the dugout?â returned the scout. âI didnât see it in there, but--Ah,â he broke off abruptly, âhere it is. I just stumbled over it.â He saddled and bridled in record time, swung a leg over his bronk and rode to the scoutâs side. âWhere now, Buffalo Bill?â he asked. âTake me to Perryâs ranch, Nate,â said Buffalo Bill. Impulsively Nate Dunbar reached out his hand and gave the scoutâs a grateful grip. âLet me rise to remark,â observed Nate, with a touch of sincere feeling, âthat youâre a whole man. Iâm playing in big luck to-night. There was about one chance in a thousand that youâd break a hole in that roof--but itâs the one chance that came my way. Dick Perry and Hattie are about discouraged with all their troubles, but theyâll take a fresh lease of hope when they learn that youâre on our side.â With that, Dunbar pointed the way and set the pace. âI donât mind saying, Dunbar,â said the scout, âthat Iâve taken a fancy to you. Itâs been quite a while since I got tangled up in a romance, and Iâd find a good deal of fault with myself if I didnât see this one through to a happy finish.â âYouâre white,â muttered the cowboy, âplumb white. I thought you had a lot of pards in your outfit?â âTheyâre at Hackamore, waiting for me.â âHow many?â âFour of them--but theyâre four of the sort that canât be picked up any day in the week. Thereâs Wild Bill Hickok, of Laramie, a man who doesnât know what fear means, and who can lick his weight in wild cats. Then thereâs my old trapper pard, Nick Nomad, whoâs a diamond in the rough, and has gone through more tight corners with me than I can count. Next thereâs the baron, who talks and fights with a Teutonic accent, but steps as high, wide and handsome as any of the rest. âLast, but not least, Iâll mention Little Cayuse, the Piute boy, whoâs a host in himself. These, Dunbar, comprise the force I can bring against the cattle barons. The barons will outnumber us, but our work will be to win by tact rather than by force; to compass our ends by diplomacy, and by the strong support of the law, which is at our back.â âWhat do you consider the first move in this--er--campaign of tact and diplomacy?â queried Dunbar. He was none too sanguine, and showed it. âInasmuch as Hattie Perry is the indirect cause of Perryâs troubles, we must eliminate her from the proposition.â Dunbar turned in his saddle. âEliminate her?â he gasped. The scout laughed. âExactly,â he declared. âWithin a few days--or hours, if we can arrange it so--there will be no Hattie Perry.â âIâm over my head,â muttered Dunbar. âHow are you going about it?â âA sky pilot will be the key to the situation. Just as soon as possible, my lad, he will make you and Miss Perry one. The girl will cease to be Miss Perry, and will become Mrs. Dunbar. Lige Benner will be foiled. Simple, donât you think?â âWell, blazes!â murmured Dunbar, but with a flutter of happiness in his voice. âThatâs sure the correct way to go at it, and yet Iâm blamed if I ever thought of such a move.â âI should think it would have occurred to you the first thing. Whereâs the nearest sky pilot?â âHis headquarters are in Henrietta, but he rides circuit over a good part of this Brazos range. He was due in Hackamore yesterday.â âHow long does he stay there?â âWhy, long enough to round up the boys and tell âem what to do to travel the straight and narrow trail. Heâs a man, that sky pilot is, and a good friend of Perryâs and mine. His nameâs Jordan.â âWell, as soon as we get to the ranch weâll lay the proposition before Perry and Hattie; then weâll all ride over to Hackamore, and you and the girl will take the momentous step. Iâve a notion that that will settle everything and bring peace and happiness on the Brazos.â For an hour the scout and the cowboy rode briskly through the moonlight. At the end of that time they reached the bank of the Brazos, and drew up at the door of a comfortable log cabin. Silence reigned around the ranch house. No glimmer of light showed through its small windows, and there was no sign of life in the vicinity. âI donât savvy this layout,â muttered Dunbar forebodingly. âWhy,â returned the scout, âitâs late. Perry and the rest have gone to bed.â Dunbar tumbled out of the saddle and threw open the door. The scout, still sitting on his horse, heard the cowboy moving around in the cabin and stumbling over chairs and other pieces of furniture. Presently a glow of light came through the open door. Looking into the big room, the scout saw chairs overturned and the whole interior in disorder. The cowboy ran to the door. âSomethingâs happened here, Buffalo Bill!â he cried excitedly. âThereâs been a fight of some kind in the house, and Perry and Hattie have disappeared. Fiend take the scoundrels! Benner and the barons are back of this!â Buffalo Bill dismounted hurriedly and ran into the cabin. He saw at a glance that the place had been the scene of recent violence and that some rascally work had been carried out. âPut up the horses, my lad,â said he calmly to Dunbar, âand then come in and weâll do some figuring. Keep your nerve, Nate. If you go to pieces, you wonât be able to give me the help I need.â While the cowboy was taking care of the horses, Buffalo Bill surveyed the interior of the cabin. The fine softening touch of a womanâs hand was everywhere visible. Over a table hung a book rack with a little treasury of well-worn volumes. A lamp stood on the table, and on the side of the table nearest the lamp a rocking-chair was overturned. An open book lay on the floor. The scout picked up the book, and found that it was a copy of âPaul and Virginia.â He laid the book on the floor where he had found it. There were yarn mottoes on the walls, framed in pine cones: âGod Bless Our Home,â âHaste Makes Waste,â and âThe Lord Loveth a Cheerful Giver.â Something in those trite and homely sentiments touched the scoutâs heart. The books and mottoes bespoke character--character that seemed out of place in that rough country--character that should not have been entangled in such a web of treachery and violence as had been thrown about the Perrys. The scout opened one of two doors that were in the rear of the room, and carried the lamp into the kitchen. Here everything was in apple-pie order. Dishes were neatly arranged in a crude box cupboard, and the floor was as clean as a hickory-splint broom could make it. He tried the kitchen door, and found it locked. Returning to the living room, he found Nate Dunbar standing in the middle of it and looking around dejectedly. âTheyâve been run off,â he declared hopelessly; âthatâs whatâs happened! If any harm comes to Hattie,â and here his voice fell husky and murderous, âIâll camp on Lige Bennerâs trail--_and Iâll get him_.â âDonât try to take the law into your own hands, Nate,â said the scout. âWeâll dig up all the information we can here, and then weâll lay our plans. Who does most of the reading in this cabin?â âHattie. Those books are all hers.â Dunbar waved a trembling hand toward the shelf over the table. The scout picked up an overturned chair, and seated himself. âMiss Perry was here, sitting in the rocking-chair by the lamp and reading,â said he. âSome one came here and took her and her father away by force. It hardly seems to me as though these cattle barons, lawless though they are, would have dared to go to such extremes. They may be back of what has happened, but some of their hirelings did the work.â Dunbar reeled against the wall, and caught his head in his hands. âTact and diplomacy!â he bitterly exclaimed. âHow can you use weapons like those against such a pack of scoundrels? Cold steel is what they need! By Heaven, itâs only a two hoursâ gallop to Bennerâs! Iâll go there and make him answer for this!â The cowboy jumped from the wall, and started for the door. âDunbar!â There was a compelling note in the scoutâs voice. The cowboy halted, and turned his haggard face. âSit down!â ordered the scout. âIf I and my pards are to help you, I want you to keep a cool head, and not go off on any fool tangent. You can be of assistance to me--but only by showing a different spirit.â âBuffalo Bill,â cried Dunbar, âif you had seen the Perrys tramped on and mistreated as I have, youâd be murder mad just as I am over this last outrage.â âTwo wrongs never made a right, Nate.â âRight! Who talks of right on the Brazos? These barons are jumping on right and justice rough shod, and what they need is a taste of their own medicine.â âTheyâll get it, Nate, but theyâll get it in my way. Thereâll be no parlor tactics, and when we hit it will be straight from the shoulder. But this talk of cold steel begs the whole question. Sit down and be sensible.â Dunbar, with an effort, got the whip hand of himself. âIsnât there any one living in the cabin but Perry and his daughter?â went on the scout. âNo. Iâve been putting up here along with Dick and Hattie.â âWhere are the cowboys?â âAll gone--but me. They were scared off by the barons--scared off or bought off, I donât know which. When I failed to get back yesterday, maybe Dick and Hattie thought Iâd been bought off, too.â âNo, they didnât. Iâve only known you for a few hours, Dunbar, but even that short acquaintance has convinced me that youâve no yellow streak in your make-up. Perry and his daughter have known you a good deal longer than I have, and theyâd never think you had turned traitor to their interests. How many cattle have you and Perry?â âPerry came in here with a thousand head, but thereâs no telling how many of our brand we could round up now. The herd has been rustled right and left.â The scout was thoughtful for a few moments. âWhat sort of a man is Perry?â he asked finally. âThe clear quill and as straight as a die.â âFighter?â âAs game a fighter as you can find. If he hadnât been heâd have left the Brazos a month ago. But heâs too honest, too finely strung to handle a gang like the cattle barons, even if he had a large enough force behind him. Perry is an educated man, Buffalo Bill.â âSo I imagined. He hasnât made the other cattlemen think that heâs better than they are, has he?â âNot on your life! That ainât Perryâs style. Heâd be neighborly, if theyâd let him.â âI donât believe,â said the scout, âthat Perry was here when his daughter was taken away. Thereâd have been shooting, wouldnât there?â âRight off the reel,â answered Dunbar promptly. âPerry would have gone any length to defend himself.â âThere are no signs to indicate that revolvers were used. I suppose Perry kept his guns handy?â âAlways--since the barons turned loose on him.â âThen hereâs the way I figure it: You failed to come back to the cabin yesterday. Perry and Hattie believed that you had been trapped by Bennerâs men. Perry went off to look for you. While he was gone, the trouble happened here. Perry may get back any minute, Dunbar, and then he can help us do our planning. Are there any horses in the corral?â âNo.â The cowboy was moody. He could see the logic of the scoutâs suggestions, but he was not in a temper to be sanguine over results. âHow far is Bennerâs ranch from here?â asked the scout. âTwenty miles.â Dunbar showed some interest. âAre you thinking of going over there?â âNot yet. Weâll give Perry a chance to get back here first. How long have you been hooked up with Perry, Nate?â âNearly a year. I came here from the Panhandle country, and Perry had just bought out the Star-A steers. He wanted a foreman, and I took hold. Later on, when I saw how the other cattlemen were layinâ for him, I dropped a thousand-dollar stake into the pot. It was all I had. I reckoned, though, that Iâd show Benner he had two to buck against. He had tried to hire me away from Perry, and the thousand I put up here was an answer to that.â Buffalo Bill was liking the young fellow more and more. Nevertheless, he was not overlooking the powerful influence Hattie Perry must have had with Nate Dunbar. âYouâre all right, Nate,â said the scout. âThe situation on the Brazos has reached a climax, and everything depends on the way you stack up from this on.â âBut we canât do what you thought of while we were riding from Red Steveâs.â âYou mean that about the sky pilot, and eliminating Miss Perry as a factor in the trouble? That is still the work we must do, Nate, so it follows that our next step must be to find Miss Perry.â âWhy should those infernal scoundrels carry her off?â cried the cowboy. âThat was done, I believe, simply to frighten you and Perry, and force Perry to agree to Bennerâs proposals.â âPerry neverâd agree!â âAt any rate, Iâm sure the young lady has suffered no harm, and that she will be considerately treated. We must rescue her. With my pards to help, Iâm sure we can accomplish that part of it.â âBut suppose Perry delays getting back? We ought to be doing something for Hattie right now.â The scout pointed to the âHaste and Wasteâ motto on the wall. âKeep that prominently before your eyes, Dunbar,â admonished the scout. âIf we get in too much of a hurry we may spoil everything. If Perry doesnât come within an hour or two, Iâll send you to Hackamore after my pards. They ought to be here by sunup.â âThen whatâs to be done?â âWhy, then weâll ride to Bennerâs ranch.â âHattie wonât be there. He wouldnât take Hattie there.â âOf course he wouldnât, but if he has had anything to do with spiriting the girl away from this cabin, weâll find out about it and get him to tell us where she is.â Dunbar shook his head doubtfully. âIf you and your pards go to Bennerâs ranch, Buffalo Bill,â said he, âyouâll be right in the midst of the whole gang. Thereâs enough of the outfit to smother you and your pards ten deep.â The scout smiled. âI reckon you donât know much about my pards,â said he. At that moment the beat of horseâs hoofs were heard, swiftly approaching. Both the scout and the cowboy jumped to their feet. âPerry!â exclaimed the scout, starting for the door. As he stood in front of the cabin, the lamplight pouring through the open door at his back, a horseman drew to a halt. âWell, by gorry!â the rider exclaimed, in a flutter of astonishment. âHave I got the blind staggers? Pard Cody, is that you?â The surprise was mutual. âThereâs no mistake, Wild Bill,â answered the scout, as pleased as he was surprised. âGet down and tell me what brings you here.â CHAPTER III. FLUSH DAYS IN TEXAS. The Texas steer, with the long horns and the brand bigger than a gridiron, has passed away. With this half-wild âbeef critterâ has likewise passed the old-time grizzle-faced herder with his cowhide boots and appalling profanity. Grade shorthorns, Herefords, and other swells in the kingdom of range cattle have taken the longhornâs place, and the present-day cattleman is a keen, shrewd business man who has reduced cattle raising and feeding to a science. Perhaps the elimination of the longhorn and the picturesque soldier of circumstance who looked after him is not a subject for regret; yet in the early days--the days of this chronicle--the rangy steer of the wide horns was bringing a flood of wealth into Texas. Those were really flush days for the cattle barons. In those boom times, ranchers whose principal asset was cattle, had more money than they had ever possessed before--and more, it is said, than they have ever had since. Just what caused the boom was a mystery; nevertheless, the boom was a very real event, and some of the barons took in more money than they knew how to spend. When such a thing happens to a free and easy-going people, foolish extravagance is the result. This sort of extravagance, therefore, took the cattle country by the throat, and shook a golden stream out of its pockets. Now and then a cigar was lighted with a ten-dollar bill--whenever a baron wished to be particularly spectacular. It may not have proved that the ranchers had money to burn, yet it proved that they did burn it nevertheless. Many of the ranchers burned their money in âsparks,â otherwise diamonds, paying three or four times what the stones were worth per karat. There was much rivalry in the possession of these gems. If a baronâs neighbor flashed a gem as big as a Mexican bean on his little finger,
{'title': 'Buffalo Bill, Peacemaker; Or, On a Troublesome Trail by Prentiss Ingraham', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}