The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 226: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

928 gravel and had been unable to regain the shore. For that was a_ swift stream. A wagon crossing that ford would slue around like a ferry-boat in an out- running tide. So they searched the stream below, finding nothing of her, of course. It was not until next morning that Mrs. Tree recalled the incident of taking Buffalo’s picture and the visit of One Horse in that connection. This information threw light on the mys- tery. “She hadn’t-orto ‘a’ done it,” said the sheriff, shaking his solemn, thin- edged head. ‘“‘ Them old fellers, they don’t like it.” After expressing himself so, the sheriff rode away to examine the other side of the river. ‘There he found the trail of Big Buffalo and his two as- sistants. A great whoop and hurrah was raised over the plain evidence that In- dians had carried off the young lady from her peaceful purSuits—something that had not happened in Wyoming in twenty-five years. The Indian police were called out, the deputies were called out, the posse comitatus was called out. Everybody was called out, for the town was shaken with indignation. Word was sent to the military post, asking that a detachment of cavalry be sent to take up the pursuit. Big Buffalo had expected all that, for he believed the black box to be big medicine of some kind and a treasure which the white men would go far to recover. But pursuit didn’t bother him any. Getting away had been his main business for the seventy-odd years that he had ranged those mountains and plains. He was not the man to be caught by a bunch of educated Indians and uneducated whites—at least, not on the first frisky dash from the tents of civilization. They rode and they rode on Big Buffalo’s trail, and when they could - THE ARGOSY. ride no farther they went afoot over the ragged hills and through the shad- owy canons. Buffalo and the .black medicine - box which contained the shadow of his soul were always some- where in the lead. The posse comitatus, its indignation somewhat frayed by two nights and a day ahétd, trickled back to town. The sheriff came along presently, leaving the job to the Indian police, to whom, he said, seeing that the chase had led out of his jurisdiction, it rightly be- longed. And about that time came the young man, One Horse, with the dust of hard riding on his uncovered head. One Horse was also an Arapahoe, and the bond of liegeman bound him to the service of Chief Big Buffalo. No matter what he was in public among the tents of civilization, in private One Horse was an Indian, from his feather to his heels. One Horse came to the tent of the Jennie party after dark. He asked for supper with an air of importance and shielded himself behind the tent-flap with a bearing of secrecy. After he had eaten everything in sight he wiped his mouth on a paper napkin, to show that he was as much of a gentleman as the best of them, and remarked : ‘“ Nice weather we're having. Jennie’s mother could restrain her- self no longer, no matter what the re- quirements of Indian etiquette might be. “Where's that nasty old chief? ”’ she began. 2 One Horse rose with great dignity and started to leave. Jennie’s mother appealed to him tearfully, and the sergeant squared off in front of him to bar the way. . “This is the word Chief Big Buffalo told me to say to you,” said One Horse, all the flippancy of his educated ways gone out of him, “and I’m here to tell you. But don’t you let them fellers git onto me—see? Chief Big Buffalo says if you'll send him five of them 33 EOPNICLOOO KS (E@)