CHAPTER XX.

THE RESCUE OF STEVE.

The border king ran to the edge of the cliff and peered over. He saw that there was a sheer descent of more than five hundred feet, with no trees or shrubs to break a fall--nothing but a smooth face of bare rock.

Far below, lying upon a heap of fallen bowlders, he could see, through his field glasses, the body of the Shawnee chief.

There could be no doubt that he was dead. Every bone in his body must have been broken by that fearful fall.

Cody promptly returned to his horse and rode back to the scene of the fight, where his companions were awaiting him. He briefly told them of the fate of Evil Heart and ordered them to mount and ride back on the trail. He wished to follow the other trail of the larger Indian party without delay and do what he could to recover the girls.

“Wait a moment, Cody,” said Mainwaring, who had distinguished himself in the fight. “I’ve got a prisoner here, and I want to know what you are going to do with him.”

“A prisoner!” exclaimed Buffalo Bill, in amazement. “How did you get a chance to take one in such a fight as this, where quarter is neither asked nor given?”

“Here he is,” said Mainwaring, pointing to a young Shawnee, who was sitting upon the ground, closely guarded by two Pawnees with tomahawks in their hands. “I guess he was a young brave just out on his first trail. Anyway, he got scared when I had the drop on him. He threw down his tomahawk and begged for mercy, and I hadn’t the heart to shoot him then.”

“A strange thing for an Indian to do,” remarked Buffalo Bill. “Well, it’s a nuisance. I don’t see what we are going to do with him.”

“The Pawnees were keen to kill and scalp him,” said Mainwaring. “I had a good deal of trouble in preventing them.”

“I dare say you had,” commented the border king grimly. “They don’t approve of such mercy.”

It was plain from the looks of the two Pawnees who were guarding the brave that they did not. Their fingers clutched their tomahawks with a nervous grip, as though they yearned to send the deadly weapons crashing into the skull of the captive.

The Shawnee looked up beseechingly into the face of the border king. He was evidently afraid to die, and he knew that his fate rested in the hands of the renowned Long Hair.

“White Feather will tell the great chief about the paleface maidens if he will spare his life,” he said. “He will tell how they were taken from Evil Heart and who took them.”

He spoke in his own tongue, which Buffalo Bill understood.

“That’s another matter,” replied the king of the scouts. “Let White Feather speak straight words and tell me all I want to know, and he shall not only have his life, but he shall go free. He is not a warrior we need fear.”

The Shawnee was too nervous for himself to resent or even notice the last cutting remark. He plunged into his story eagerly.

It appeared that the Shawnees had fled from the wrecked wagon train because one of their scouts had signaled the approach of a strong war party of Utes, far outnumbering their own. As the Utes, like the Apaches, had their hands against almost all the other tribes, Evil Heart had feared to meet them.

The Utes had not seen them, apparently, but they had done all they could to hide their trail, without knowing that the white men were after them.

But, nevertheless, quite by accident, the war party of Utes had sighted them later on the prairie and ridden up to them, compelling them to halt. This explained the mystery of the two converging trails.

The Utes were under the command of a famous chief named Bear Killer, and they were out on the warpath against the Snake Indians, having traveled far from their own lodges for that purpose.

Bear Killer and Evil Heart had held a palaver, the result of which was that the Ute chief had demanded that the two white maidens should be handed over to him as the price of his letting the Shawnees go on their way without a fight.

Evil Heart had been loath to grant this, but his braves had prevailed on him to do so, for the Utes so far outnumbered them that a battle would have meant their almost certain extermination.

The Ute chief had ridden away with his followers, saying that he would hunt for the Snakes, and after he had vanquished them he would return to his home far across the great mountains, and make the eldest white maiden his squaw, while his brother, who was with his war party, would take the other to his lodge.

This was valuable information, and Buffalo Bill did not grudge the captive his liberty as the price of it.

Grateful at having saved his life, even at the price of showing cowardice, White Feather departed on foot to seek the lodges of his people.

Buffalo Bill gave the word to ride as swiftly as possible back to the point where the Utes had met the Shawnees.

When they got there the scouts scattered around and examined the tracks carefully in order to estimate the strength of the Utes as nearly as they could.

The result was to show that it was a party of such strength as it seemed almost foolish to try to tackle.

While they were busy in this work Wild Bill heard a low moan coming from a small clump of bushes near by. He called Buffalo Bill to him, and together they hastened to the spot.

There they found a man lying on the prairie. He had been staked out on the ground, so that he would perish of hunger and thirst.

Buffalo Bill cut him loose, helped him to his feet, revived him with a drink, and asked:

“How long have you been here?”

“About five hours, I reckon, pard.”

“Who did it?”

“Utes.”

“A large party?”

“No.”

“Any white girls in it?”

“No.”

“How many braves?”

“Ten.”

“That can’t be Bear Killer’s gang,” said Buffalo Bill, turning to Wild Bill.

“There are Utes all over the country,” said the rescued man. “Several bands. They are spread all over, looking for the Snakes.”

“I know you now,” remarked Buffalo Bill, looking keenly at the man. “You are Steve Hathaway. You used to be a government scout, but you turned outlaw.”

“That’s right, Buffalo Bill,” said Hathaway, who was an old man, hanging his head in shame. “But I’ve got tired of the life and want to be an honest and decent man again. I joined the Death Riders, but I couldn’t stand for their ways, so I left ’em at the risk of my life, an’ I was trying to reach the settlements when the Utes caught me.”

“If you want to turn over a new leaf, I’ll do all I can to help you, Steve,” said the chivalrous knight of the plains. “You used to be a good man in the old days. Now, listen:

“We are chasing the Utes to recover two white girls. If they are as numerous as you say we shall want help. I am going to send a man to Fort McPherson to ask for a troop of cavalry. Will you go and guide them to me? I will send two scouts back later on to meet you and help to direct you.”

“Sure, pard,” replied Steve. “There’s nothing I’d like to do better. If you will trust me I won’t betray your trust. You have saved my life, and it is yours. I will go to Fort McPherson and bring the troopers along, or die in the attempt.”

Hathaway stopped only to eat and drink a little, and then, being supplied with a horse, he rode off to the fort.

When, after some hard riding, he reached there, he gave the commandant a letter with which Buffalo Bill had intrusted him, explaining the nature of the situation.

“Order Captain Meinhold and Company B to go at once,” said the commandant to his adjutant. “They are the boys for this kind of work. Tell Captain Meinhold to spare no effort to bring the girls back. That is the first consideration. Even the punishment of the Indians is a secondary matter.”