Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 9

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When Old Negotiate returned to the Cody Hotel he first sought the parlor, for the Chinese waiter told him he would there find Panther Kate.

“I found Bill, miss,” said Old Negotiate. “I found him at the store, and he will be up heur soon, and ef yer wishes ter see a immortal row, just you lie low in this heur parler an’ wait fer ther music ter begin.”

“Will you allow a number of men to attack your friend?”

“Oh, I’ll be thar, miss, an’ thar shan’t be no underhan’ game played agin’ Bill. But I must leave you. Jist you wait heur a leetle.”

With this remark Old Negotiate left the parlor. Panther Kate, riveted by a fascination she could not resist, remained standing at the window, half hidden by the heavy, coarse curtains, and waiting breathlessly for the coming of what the scout had called a “circus.”

In the meantime Old Negotiate reëntered the bar and found the crowd still drinking heavily and getting more intoxicated each moment.

But he saw that Captain Corduroy and his comrades, though they had seemingly drunk freely, were apparently more sober than when he left them, which further convinced him that they were playing a part and were not allowing themselves to lose control of their faculties.

The reëntrance of Old Negotiate was greeted with a shout of welcome, and of course he had to drink, and Captain Corduroy treated; but Negotiate did not swallow the liquor, and watching closely he saw that the strangers also failed to drink the contents of their glasses, a circumstance none of the drunken crowd observed.

Going out upon the piazza, Old Negotiate called out:

“Pard strangers, thar comes a man, ef yer wants ter see one, who hesn’t got his ekal in these heur parts.”

Captain Corduroy looked out and cried:

“Buffalo Bill! Be ready!”

Old Negotiate heard the words and asked quickly:

“Say, pards, does yer mean harm ter Bill?”

“He means harm to me, and I will but protect myself,” said Captain Corduroy.

“All right; that are squar’; but as he don’t see yer, I’ll jist shout an’ tell him.”

Then he raised his voice and shouted:

“Ho, Bill! Thar are danger camped on yer trail heur.”

The warning caused a dead silence to follow, and Captain Corduroy and his pards dropped their hands upon revolvers, as though to first turn them on Old Negotiate. But he had his weapon out already, and the strangers seemed to realize that he was not the man to pick a quarrel with then and there, for a dozen friends were around him.

With Buffalo Bill it was different. Negotiate’s hail had given out a declaration of war. A man ever cool, Captain Corduroy was only an instant nonplused; then he cried:

“Yes, pards, I have come on Buffalo Bill’s trail. He killed my two brothers, and right here I intend to avenge them.”

This caused a general scattering of the crowd from the piazza. They were not too drunk to forget that self-preservation is nature’s first law, and they dashed into the barroom with an alacrity that was amusing.

Old Negotiate went, too, though not from fear. He thought that from a window he could the better aid Buffalo Bill, and he took up his stand just inside, and stood ready for what might follow. The strangers had held their ground.

They had proven themselves generous fellows in facing the bar, and they would not flinch now when it was a case where there were five against one man, no matter what the reputation of that man might be.

“Give out ther hymn, cap’n, an’ we’ll shout ther doxology,” cried one of them.

“I will meet him first,” sternly said the captain.

“Thet bein’ ther case, we’ll fall back a leetle,” and the first speaker gave a backward step or two, which was followed by his immediate comrades.

“You lose your geld if you desert me,” savagely cried Captain Corduroy.

“Ain’t desertin’, only takin’ up a more safer posish, cap’n.”

In the meantime Buffalo Bill was coming toward the hotel, his horse in a slow walk. He had answered the hail of Old Negotiate with a wave of the hand, and shown no other sign that he understood it.

He saw the sudden decamping of the crowd and smiled. Then his eyes fell upon the form of Captain Corduroy, and he gave a slight start. Buffalo Bill was mounted upon his matchless black, Midnight, sat easily in his saddle, and was evidently equipped for a journey. As he drew near the steps leading to the hotel piazza, he drew rein and said:

“So it is you, Kent King, known as the Gambler Guide! I know you in spite of your disguise.”

Captain Corduroy, revealed now as Kent King, drew his revolver.

“Then it is war?” said Buffalo Bill, at the same time drawing his weapon.

“Yes, war to the death,” shouted Captain Corduroy, and with the last word he threw forward his revolver to fire.

Before it could flash, the report of Buffalo Bill’s weapon was heard, and the bullet shattered the pistol of his foe, knocking it from his hand.

“Come, boys; at him!” yelled Kent King, shaking his hand, which was stunned by the shock, though he was not wounded.

With his war cry ringing on his lips, a revolver in each hand and his spurs held to the flanks of Midnight, Buffalo Bill rushed to the charge. It was a thrilling, desperate scene. Shot after shot was poured at the daring man. One of Kent King’s followers fired upon the scout from the barroom window.

Instantly the miscreant dropped, cut down by the deadly aim of Buffalo Bill. Another fired at him, and went reeling with a bullet through him.

Up the steps Midnight bounded with his daring rider, while the scout’s revolvers flashed fire. It was more than Kent King and his murderers could stand.

In another second Midnight was upon the piazza, and charged right into the barroom, from which men were scattering by the dozen. Within a minute the barroom was empty, though one of Kent King’s miscreants lay dead on the floor.

Old Negotiate, racing at Midnight’s heels, entered the barroom at this juncture, and bawled:

“Bill, he hev lit out!”

“Who?” Buffalo Bill demanded.

“The boss of ’em all.”

“The leader?”

“Yes, Captain Corduroy.”

“I shot to kill him.”

“Waal, you missed him.”

“I did not, for I saw him fall.”

“Then the bullet glanced on his hard skull, and he played possum to get away.”

“That may be; but let him go.”

Going out upon the piazza, Buffalo Bill saw that Kent King was indeed gone, though two of his allies lay dead where they had fallen, and a third he had just left lifeless, lying on the floor of the barroom.