Beadle's Dime Library No. 362 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 Buffalo Bill’s Grip. and started to his feet with the feeling that a human presence was near him. But no one was visible in the darkness, and as it was nearly dawn, he determined to start upon his. way, trusting to luck to find the .trail of the Mad Hercules further down the valley, which he knew would bring him out near the river. To his surprise, as he stepped up to his horse, he found him both saddled and bridled, yet still staked out with the lariat. ‘‘By Jove! but the spook was going to take a ride,” he exclaimed, in the greatest surprise. He knew that he had unsaddled the ani- mal as soon ashe halted the night before, and staked him out upon the best spot he could find for him to feed. The saddle and bridle he had hung upon a tree near by, and now he found them upon his horse. “Come, Red-skin, who did this?’’ he asked of the horse. ‘Have the witches been riding you? ‘‘No, your mane is not tangled,* but my thoughts are, and I'll get out of this before I have a witch riding behind me.”’ The scout spoke half in earnest, half in jest, for, in spite of his sound sense, he was sadly mystified by all that had occurred of late, from the massacre on the Big Horn, and the meeting of the Mad Hercules, to being trailed by an unseen foe whose movements he could not account for. Mounting his horse he rode out of the thicket, to suddenly draw rein quickly, and half-throw his rifle to his shoulder. Then he checked this purpose, and driving the spurs into the flanks of Red-skin shot away like the wind in pursuit of an object that had suddenly caught his quick eve. What he went in pursuit of seemed to fly rather than run, It appeared in the darkness to be a human being, and yet, though now running for a few paces, would seem to bound up into the air and fly along for a short space. Fortunately for the scout, and unfortu- ~ nately for the pursued, the valley there nar- “ rowed into a canyon with steep sides, wholly inaccessible to the foot of man or beast, so that, forced to fly down it, there was no turn- ing-off point which could be taken to elude the swift steed in chase. Had it been otherwise, Buffalo Bill could haye been easily thrown off the pursuit, by the one he was endeavoring to catch dodging behind rocks and trees. ‘“Come, Red-skin, don’t let even a spook outrun you,” cried Bill, urging the animal forward, while he held the reins firmly in one hand and his revolver in the other. His eyes he kept fixed upon the running, leaping, flying creature he was in chase of, and which he momentarily feared would vanish in some mysterious manner from his sight. CHAPTER XVIII. RUN DOWN. As the flight and pursuit continued, Buf- falo Bill was pleased to see that the one he was pressing so hotly did not disappear, but continued his running, flying flight, as it were, down the canyon. Red-skin was making good time, over the ‘rough footing, but could have doubled his pace had the nature of the ground per- mitted. But this might also have retarded the fugi- tive, who certainly seemed to be getting along with deer-like fleetness. - As the end of the canyon drew near Buf- falo Bill pressed on faster and gained more rapidly, and he was glad to see in the un- certain light that an open plain lay beyond. Once there, he felt he could force his horse to a pace that would not keep him long be- hind the one he pursued, - At length the fugitive bounded out of the canyon, swayed to the right, then to the left, as though searching for some spot where he could find cover, and, as though discovering no vantage-ground for him, he went straight ahead once more, aiming for the line of tim- ber a quarter of a mile beyond, which fringed the river’s bank. And the renewed speed with which he * There is an old superstition that when the mane ofa horse is found tangled he has been ridden by witches during the night.—THE AUTHOR. SS Oe ee ee ee eee ae started off fairly amazed the scout who had hardly believed it possible for a human be- ing to get over the ground that fast, **Come, old horse, now show your met- tle, and catch yonder What-is-It, be it spook, Injun or devil!” cried Buffalo Bill, pressing hard after the flying creature in advance. At the words of his rider the noble animal shot forward like an arrow from a bow. It did not take the scout but an instant to see that he was gaining upon the pursued, and that at the pace he was riding he would over- take the fugitive before he could reach the river, That this discovery was also made by the other was evident, for, with no tree, bush or rock near to afford the slightest shelter, the flying form suddenly turned to the right- about, dropped upon one knee, and sent an arrow straight at the scout as he came on. It was well aimed, but struck the butt of a revolver in Buffalo Bill’s belt and glanced off, and while another arrow was being fit- ted to the bow, there came the flash and crack of the scout’s pistol. Over on his face fell the fugitive, and the next instant Buffalo Bill drew up his pant- ing horse and sprung to the ground. A deep groan told him that his shot had not proven instantly fatal, and staking out Red-skin he returned and bent over the form that now lay in a heap before him. The dawn was just breaking over the hill- tops, and there was light enough to see that the one at his feet was an Indian. Turning him over upon his back Bill saw that he yet lived, and gazed unflinchingly in his face, though the blood was oozing from a bullet-wound above his heart. That he had seen the Indian before he knew, and it at once dawned upon him where: But he asked in the Sioux tongue: ‘‘ Who are you ity “* Ne-ta-ka,” * was the low reply. He was a young warrior, and one whose fame as a runner and leaper had spread along the border. Buffalo Bill had often heard of his won- derful speed on foot, and he now saw lying beside him a long, slender pole, the end of which was covered with buckskin, like the head of a drumstick, to prevent its impress upon the ground. With this pole the Flyer had made his wonderful leaps as he ran. And more, the scout discovered that he carried upon his back something like a pair of snow-shoes, with moccasins fitted upon them, and besides, a lariat of great length, several quivers of arrows, like those that had been shot at him, and a long bow, which he now grasped tightly in his hand, though possessing no power to use it. He possessed a lithe, tall form, wore leg- gings and moccasins, but no hunting-shirt, and a blanket was swung at his back. The Flyer is a warrior of the Death Kill- er’s medicine-lodge!” said Buffalo Bill, re- membering to have seen the Indian upon the Big Horn battle-field, and as one of the band of the renegade Bill Bevins. ‘The Long Hair speaks straight,” was the low reply, though uttering the words made the young brave wince with the anguish he suffered. ‘‘The Death Killer sent the Flyer on the trail of the Long Hair to kill him?” The Indian nodded assent. ““The Death Killer did not believe that the Long Hair would go to the village of Sitting Bull?” The red-skin shook his head to express the negative, ‘«The Long Hair is going there now.” The Indian looked his admiration at so bold a deed, but made no reply, and Buffalo Bill continued: “The Long Hair will tell the people of the Flyer how he died, that he buried him where his kindred can find his grave.” “Let the Long Hair not speak of Ne-ta-ka to his people when he wears his scalp at his belt,” said the warrior in a tone that showed how bitter a blow it was for him to lose it. ‘The Flyer is a great brave, he came upon the trail of Pa-e-has-ka to killhim, but he has fallen and will die, yet I will not take his scalp.” EE Se a en ee ee ee a The eyes of the red-skin, though almost | * The Flyer, or Leaper.—THEe AUTHOR. glazed by death, flashed with delight at this promise, and he said quickly: ** Ne-ta-ka will call Pa-e-has-ka his white brother when he goes to the Happy Hunting- Grounds.” Whether Buffalo Bill felt complimented by this promise or not, he certainly acted most kindly toward the dying red-skin, and feeling a little curious to settle the mysteri- ous movements of The Flyer, after his shots at him, asked: “Why is it that Ne-ta-ka left no trail when he came near my camp?” The Indian pointed to the articles that looked like snow-shoes, but uttered no ward. ** Well, you are a genius,” muttered Bill, while he added, speaking to himself: ‘“ Those willow shoes certainly would leave no trail, the pole explains his seeming to fly through the air as he ran, but now to find out where he went after firing at me.” Turning to the Indian he asked: ‘* Where did Ne-ta-ka go after he fired at Pa-e has-ka from behind the tree?” The red-skin raised his hand with an effort and placed it upon his coiled lasso. Then he pointed upward and said in a whisper, for his strength was rapidly failing: ** Ne-ta-ka fastened lariat to tree, shot ar- row, and climbed up lariat and hide in tree.” ‘‘Aha! that is a dodge I had not thought of before. ‘‘ Why, this red-skin is a perfect book to me, and I’ll appropriate his stock in trade and practice his little games, for they ma come in useful— Ha! that’s music, and know the tune!” The last remark was caused by suddenly hearing several shots and yells break upon the morning air, and coming from the direc- tion of the timber. The red-skin heard the sounds too, and half-raised himself upon his arm, to watch Buffalo Bill spring upon his horse and dash away like the wind, in the direction from whence had come the shots and cries. CHAPTER XIX. THE MAD HERCULES AT CLOSE QUARTERS. Ir was but a few moments’ ride to the belt of woods that girded the banks of the river, and into the timber Buffalo Bill dashed at full speed. Before him, and some hundred yards dis- tant, he heard the wild yells of combatants. There were no shots fired now, only heavy thuds heard, mingled with yells of rage and cries of seeming anguish. Straight upon the scene Buffalo Bill rode, his reins held firmly in his teeth, and a re- volver in each hand. There was an open space upon the bank, a fallen tree, against which a fire was burning, and the appearance of a camp. Against the roots of this tree, for it had been prostrated by the wind, stood none other than the Mad Hercules. But he was not alone, for he was confront- ed by half a dozen painted warriors, armed with knives, who were dodging about in an effort to run in upon him and strike at his heart. At his feet lay two dead braves, who had fallen in making the attempt, and upon one of these his right foot rested, while he stood at bay, his long knife grasped in hand ready for the attack. His face was bleeding, also one hand was stained red, either from his blood or that of his foes, but he stood his ground with seem- ing. debau in the mad combat, is revolvers were in his belt, and had evidently been emptied, as off some distance lay three more savages, dead, and several of those who faced him bore wounds. It was a thrilling picture, and so wrapped up were the contestants that they neither saw nor heard Buffalo Bill. As he drew nearer, he discovered that the Indians were Sioux, evidently a scouting party from Sitting Bull’s tribe, and he was determined to take a hand in the fracas. Before he charged, however, upon the scene, he saw another venturesome warrior spring in upon the madman and fall dead from a fearful thrust that met him, With his ringing war-cry, known to all the tribes on the northwest border, Buffalo Bill charged upon the scene. Straight at the warriors the well-trained horse went, and the revolvers rattled forth death-knells upon either side. 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