Читать книгу Buffalo Bill Among the Sioux; Or, The Fight in the Rapids - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 7

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Buffalo Bill and his partner rode along swiftly and silently for about half an hour, and saw no traces of the redskins. Then, as they slackened their pace for a moment to breathe the horses, Wild Bill said:

“Gosh all hemlocks, Buffler——”

Buffalo Bill turned in the saddle and interrupted him.

“That’s Nick Wharton’s expression,” he said, “and I know what you are going to say. You wish that old Nick was with us now, joining in the fun. This certainly would be an adventure after his own heart.”

“I guess he’ll be buttin’ into it before we get through,” Wild Bill remarked. “He was away at Fort Leavenworth a couple of weeks ago, so I heard, and he must have known we were around this yer section. I wouldn’t be surprised to run across him any moment.”

There is an English proverb that says: “Talk of angels, and you will hear the flutter of their wings.” There is also another, which runs: “Talk of the devil, and you will see his tail.” The truth of these two adages was speedily made clear to Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill.

They relapsed into silence, each thinking of their old friend, and rode forward over the prairie. They had not gone more than half a mile before they saw, through the darkness, which was illumined only by the pale light of the stars, a figure on horseback spurring toward them at a terrific pace.

Instinctively they grasped their rifles and made ready for anything that might happen.

In a few moments the figure drew up alongside, and they saw from its ungainliness and general tattered and dilapidated appearance that it was none other than that of their old friend Nick Wharton, of whom they had just been speaking.

He was riding his old mare, who, as he often said, was “not much to look at, but a holy terror to go.”

She was certainly tearing along at a great pace, but as she reached the two scouts she stopped dead short and reared up on her haunches.

Old Nick brought her to the ground again by a single dexterous movement of the reins. He recognized his comrades in a flash, but he did not pause to exchange greetings. He merely gasped out the one word:

“Injuns!”

As he said this, Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill saw, coming toward them through the darkness, half a dozen figures on horseback.

Silhouetted against the horizon of the prairie, they could see that the figures were those of Indians, for their feathers and scalp locks were plainly visible against the light of the stars.

As the Indians came up they were met with a volley from the scouts, and three of them reeled in their saddles and fell to the ground.

Buffalo Bill and his companions were not accustomed to miss their aim.

The remaining Indians drew rein sharply, and gazed in blank astonishment at their fallen comrades.

They had been chasing only one man, and suddenly they were brought face to face with three magnificent marksmen.

As they sat on their horses, hesitating what course to pursue, the rifles spoke again, and their hesitation was solved for them.

Never again would they roam the prairie or lift the scalp of an enemy!

“Darn all catamounts, but them varmints chased me nigh on six miles,” said old Nick, as soon as he had time to make explanations. “I heard, down in Fort Leavenworth, that the Injuns was goin’ on the warpath, so I struck a bee line for Fort Larned, whar I knowed you two boys war.

“I guess you’ve had a hot time. As I was comin’ ’cross the prairie I butted inter a hull army o’ Injuns, who seemed ter hev met with a rough time. Somebody had thrown a scare into them, an’ I thought I reckernized yer trade-mark, Buffler.

“Waal, I ducked under cover, and the most of them passed me by, but I got up too soon, an’ ’bout twenty of ’em, comin’ along last, caught sight o’ me, an’ give me a hot chase.

“My mare laid herself down to it noble, and I managed to shake off all of ’em ’cept them six what’s layin’ over there in thar tracks now.

“But what sort of a game aire you two boys puttin’ up now? I guess thar’s somethin’ doin’, ain’t thar?”

Buffalo Bill gave him a brief account of what had happened, and told him that they had planned to reach Fort Hays and subsequently go down to the country of the Navahos, if necessary, to try to prevent that tribe from taking the warpath.

Old Nick was delighted at the prospect, and immediately insisted on accompanying them.

“Gol-durn all fishhooks!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been buttin’ round Fort Leavenworth for a couple o’ weeks, and thar ain’t been nothin’ doin’.

“I got into a bit of a dispute with a young lootenant, an’ I h’isted him off the colonel’s verandy onto the ground. I thought sure he’d want to hev my blood fer thet, but he merely obsairved thet I was an unedicated person who didn’t know the proper rules of ettyket.

“Then I got into a mix-up with a couple o’ settlers. They was heeled, all right, but ’stead of drawing their guns they walked ten miles to the nearest sheriff to demand justice. When the sheriff come around, I told him to fergit it, and he forgot quick enough.

“But this yer sort o’ business didn’t seem to make me popular around the fort. The colonel was a bully good sort o’ a feller, but at last he hinted that the place was sorter narrer fer my talents. So when I heerd that somethin’ might be doin’ around Fort Larned I saddled up and came to find you boys.”

“You certainly need Hickok and me to look after you, Nick,” said Buffalo Bill, laughing heartily.

“I dunno how it is,” Wharton responded, heaving a sigh. “I’m jest about the most peaceful critter on airth, an’ yet I always seem to be runnin’ inter trouble.”

The three scouts rode on for some time, chatting about their former adventures and the chances of the present campaign, until they had covered about half the distance between the two forts.

Then, as they crested a hill and looked down into a wide-stretching valley beyond, they saw half a dozen camp fires gleaming through the darkness about two miles away.

They reined up their horses sharply, and held a council of war.

“Those must be the Indians we fought,” said Buffalo Bill. “They have stopped their flight and gone into camp until morning.”

“What shall we do?” asked Wild Bill. “Shall we make a detour and pass by them, about a mile away, so as to be out of touch of their scouts and sentries; or shall we creep in on them, and see if we can learn anything of their plans? The chances are they are discussing them around the fire.”

Cody hesitated.

He knew that the carrying of the message safely to Fort Hays was of the utmost importance, but on the other hand, he felt that a chance of learning what the Indians proposed to do ought not to be missed.

“I tell you what we will do, boys,” he said, after a few moments’ thought. “Nick and I will creep into the camp and see what we can find out. You know the Cheyenne and Sioux lingo, don’t you, Nick?”

Nick nodded.

“So do I. Hickok, you must take the dispatch and wait on horseback, holding our two beasts at a safe distance. If they catch sight of us, you mustn’t attempt a rescue. You must ride at top speed for Fort Hays. We will shift for ourselves as best we can, but that message must be carried, at all costs.”

“May I be scalped ef I leave you and Nick in the lurch!” exclaimed Wild Bill.

“You must do it, if needs be, old pard,” urged the border king. “The lives of many men, the peace of the border, the whole plan of campaign depend upon that message reaching Fort Hays. I don’t suppose the Indians will see us, but if they do you must ride the best you know, as soon as you hear the first war whoop.”

The manner of the king of the scouts was so impressive that Wild Bill at last agreed to do as he commanded.

They rode cautiously toward the camp fires, and as they approached they saw that the encampment of the Indians was a very large one.

It had been established on the banks of a stream, and by a rough computation Buffalo Bill estimated that nearly two thousand braves were gathered there around the six fires.

Evidently the Indians had rallied after the first shock of the retreat had passed; and they again constituted a very formidable fighting force.

About a quarter of a mile from the camp the three scouts drew rein and dismounted, Buffalo Bill and Nick Wharton leaving their horses in charge of Hickok.

“Don’t try to cut up the hull gang o’ them Injuns,” Wild Bill said, as his two friends strode off into the darkness toward the camp fires that twinkled ahead of them.