Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 10

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When Buffalo Bill made his desperate charge for the piazza, there was one of Kent King’s followers who felt that he had made a mistake in volunteering upon a service so dangerous as the killing of the noted scout.

He was a good shot, yet both the shots he had fired at long range were fruitless, and he noticed that those of Kent King and his comrades also failed to bring down the human game they had flushed.

At once, when the eye of Kent King was not upon him, he turned and darted into the hall. An open door attracted his attention, and he glided into a large room, rudely furnished, yet comfortable.

It was what was called the parlor of the Cody Hotel, and was devoted wholly to distinguished guests and ladies.

It was no place for the deserting stranger, but it was, he observed, apparently unoccupied, and it afforded a delightful haven of refuge for him just then. He halted in an uncertain manner for an instant, while the rattle of revolvers without proved to him that he had been wise in decamping when he did.

The tremendous racket of Midnight’s iron-shod hoofs upon the piazza coming to his ears, a sudden thought seemed to seize him. He darted to the window, which was open, and looked out upon the piazza.

There was his game, mounted still and boldly forcing his matchless horse upon the piazza. Kent King, sheltering himself behind the furniture and creeping toward the opposite door by which he managed to make his escape, also caught the eye of the desperado.

“Ha! Now is my chance, Buffalo Bill. I never miss at close quarters!” hoarsely hissed the villain; and, with the side of the window for a rest, he ran his eye along the barrel of his revolver.

Buffalo Bill was not six feet from him, and the curtain concealing his foe, he did not see him, and it looked as though death must certainly follow the shot.

But before the finger drew on the trigger a form glided from the shelter of the curtain at the other window, and a revolver muzzle was pressed hard against the head of the desperado, whose startled ears were greeted with the words:

“Drop that weapon, sir, or die!”

The alacrity with which the villain chose the former alternative proved his appreciation of life. The weapon fell upon the piazza, and then came the words:

“Drop down on your face, sir, and lie there!”

Never in his life before had the villain lain down in such haste.

“Put your hands behind you, sir.”

The order was obeyed.

“Who in thunder are yer?” he growled.

“A girl.”

“Blarst yer petticoats, what in thunder is yer playin’ this on me for?”

“Mr. Cody is my friend, and you sought to kill him.”

“Waal, this do beat all!”

“Hold your hands closer together—there, now I can tie your wrists firmly together.”

Then, with her silk scarf, taken from around her waist, Panther Kate bound the desperado’s hands behind his back.

“Now you are safe.”

“I doesn’t think so, gal, for I’ll be chawed up as soon as thet wild man comes in here.”

“Yes, he may kill you,” was the unconsoling response.

“Lordy!”

“It is what you would have done for him had I not prevented you.”

“You is mistook, gal. I were jest lookin’ out at ther circus.”

Panther Kate laughed lightly, but it was a laugh the villain did not like. As the firing had now ceased, the girl went to the door, and her eyes fell upon Old Negotiate.

Negotiate had boldly stood in the doorway, his revolver in his hand, ready to aid Buffalo Bill with a shot, should he need it; but his admiration of his friend and the great feat he was performing caused him to keep back unless he was actually needed.

“Bill will slew ’em all, darned ef he don’t,” he muttered.

“Waal, miss, yer did see ther circus, an’ hed a front seat. Wasn’t it han’some?” he said as, in obedience to the call of Panther Kate, he entered the parlor.

“It was a most thrilling scene, sir; but is Mr. Cody wounded?”

“Guess not, miss. Leastways he didn’t look thet way, tho’ yer kin never tell, as Bill kin carry a skin full o’ lead an’ not show it.”

“I wish you would kindly go and see if Mr. Cody is wounded, and——”

“Lordy! What hev yer thar?”

Old Negotiate’s eyes had discovered the prostrate and bound prisoner.

“A present for Mr. Cody.”

“Waal, he are a healthy one, and one o’ ther Calamity gang, too—yas, he are ther one thet never treated, but allus drinked when t’others treated. I guess he are a sneakin’ cuss, miss.”

“Yes, for I captured him in some deadly work.”

“I’ll fetch Bill, miss, an’ he will be more than pleased. Ef he don’t kill ther varmint, guess he’ll mark him.”

Then Negotiate went in search of Buffalo Bill, while Panther Kate and her prisoner breathlessly waited, the former fearing that the scout had been killed or fatally wounded, the latter fearing that he had not.

It was certainly a surprise to Buffalo Bill, upon entering the parlor of the hotel, to find Panther Kate standing guard over a man lying prostrate upon his face and bound securely with the girl’s scarf.

“Mr. Cody, I am so glad to see that you have not been wounded,” and she stretched forth her hand.

“No, strange to say, I escaped unhurt, and I am surprised at their wretched firing; but whom have you there, Panther Kate?”

“One of your foes, who, fearing to face you, ran in here, and would have shot you from the window had I not prevented him.”

“Pard, pretty as her mouth are, it’s a-dodgin’ truth now,” put in the prisoner.

“Silence, sir! Are you one of Kent King’s gang?” the scout demanded.

“Who are he, pard?”

Buffalo Bill stepped out of the parlor and soon returned with Old Negotiate.

“Is that one of them, Negotiate?”

“He are.”

“That settles it, and I have to thank you, Panther Kate, for saving my life. Now, what shall I do with your prisoner?”

“I hope you won’t kill him,” said Panther Kate.

“No, I never hit a man when he’s down.”

“Better mark him, Bill,” suggested Old Negotiate.

“No, as he has done me no harm, I’ll let him go, and I will send a message to Kent King by him.”

“I’ll carry it, Pard Bill, an’ I’ll rastle in prayer for yer,” cried the villain.

“Prayer from such as you is a mockery,” said Panther Kate, with a look of contempt.

“I suppose you know, sir, that Captain Corduroy, as you call him, escaped?” said the scout.

“No, pard, fer I came in heur, not wishing to shoot yer or git hurted myself.”

“I have no doubt that you wished to escape injury yourself, sir, and it is well for you that you came in here, for three of your comrades lie dead out there; but it would have been the end of me, your coming in here, had not this lady been here to thwart your little game.”

“An’ she are a screamer, pard. She jist took me in out o’ mischief, an’ yer see she hev got me fixed.”

“Yes, and you are fortunate to escape death at my hands, for I was sorely tempted to shoot you,” said Panther Kate indignantly.

“Lordy! I’d ’a’ sot heavy on your conscience, miss; but yer do look as though yer’d hev clipped my spurs fer me, ef yer didn’t let daylight inter my head.”

“Now, sir,” said Buffalo Bill, “I suppose you know where to find Kent King?”

“I might be able to strike his trail.”

“Well, see that you do, and also see that the sunset finds you out of Border City.”

“It will, fer a fact.”

“Tell Kent King that now that I know him to be on the path of revenge against me, that I, too, will strike the same trail against him, and kill him when and wherever I find him. Go!”

He unfastened the scarf as he spoke, and, glad to escape, the villain darted out of the door, his haste causing Old Negotiate to laugh heartily.

“I’m glad that you let him go,” said Panther Kate as she left the room.