CHAPTER XV.

THE FRUITS OF VICTORY.

Buffalo Bill saw the redskins rush out of the bushes into the open, and at once dropped to his knees and fired. A volley from the Apaches drowned the report of his rifle.

Black-face Ned, struck in the head by a bullet meant for Wild Bill, staggered and fell upon the kneeling king of scouts, sending him flat upon his face. Shots and bloodcurdling yells rent the air as he was trying to arise.

When he got to his feet he saw a strange sight. The Apaches were running up the mountainside, pursued by enemies from two sides.

Wild Bill and all but four of the Yelping Crew were chasing the Apaches, while from the brush out of which the foe had emerged Alkali Pete and Colonel Hayden were using their weapons with telling effect.

The king of scouts joined in the rush of the Yelpers.

But the Apaches, demoralized by the attack in the rear, won out in the running race. They were out of range when the pursuers reached the top of the ridge.

Seven had been killed, and there were not more than ten, the two outlaws with them, who were able to get to the castle.

On the ridge, the king of scouts said to Wild Bill: “Go on and invest the castle, and I’ll join you after a while. I must have a talk with Colonel Hayden.”

“All right, but be quick, Cody, for it will be dark before long.”

Alkali Pete was coming up the hill as Buffalo Bill began the downward walk. Below, on the flat, stood Colonel Hayden and Sybil.

As the two scouts met, Sybil Hayden was hastening to the side of a wounded and dying Apache.

In her hand was a canteen of water that her father had given her.

The Indian, who was sitting up with his hands at his throat, took the canteen and drank until he almost choked.

Buffalo Bill and Alkali Pete joined the girl, and the colonel came up while the Apache was speaking.

“Black Wing was a traitor,” he said, in answer to a question put by the king of scouts. “He would have sent the braves of Thunder Cloud to be massacred if the white friend of Thunder Cloud, he who is called Flag-pole Jack, had not taunted him with treachery and forced him to tell the truth.”

“Black Wing was a fool to admit he was leading the Apaches into a trap,” said Buffalo Bill.

“He was angry and reckless,” replied the Apache. “The white man has a cutting tongue, and he lashed Black Wing to fury. Then when the Apaches learned how they had been deceived, Black Wing was made to pay for his treachery.”

The last words were spoken just above a whisper. In a few minutes the Apache was dead.

“I must go on and rejoin Wild Bill,” said the king of scouts to Colonel Hayden, as the quartet walked away from the scene of death. “As for you and Miss Hayden, my advice is, go to the camping ground by the creek—the place is safe enough now—and stay there to-night. Alkali Pete here will go with you, and in the morning you can set out for civilization.”

The lanky plainsman said nothing to this speech. But his homely face wore a look of keen disappointment. As he caught Sybil Hayden’s smiling glance he reddened, and attempted an explanation for his apparent exhibition of discourtesy. “I think, I shore do, that Buffler orter come with us. He’s got no call ter be buttin’ inter a squabble atween ther ’Paches an’ ther Comanches. Don’t ye see, Miss Hayden?”

“Yes, I see,”—and the smile broadened. Then she added wickedly: “You wouldn’t go back and help Wild Bill and the Comanches, would you? An ox team couldn’t make you go. Am I right?”

Alkali Pete gave a shamefaced look at the smiling girl, and then turned an appealing glance on Buffalo Bill.

The colonel spoke at this juncture. “Your plan shows a good heart, Cody, but you forget that you are under my orders.”

The king of scouts bit his lip. “That’s so,” he reluctantly admitted. “And what is your order?”

“That you go with us and let Mr. Allen proceed to the castle.”

The lanky plainsman’s eyes danced with pleasure. But the new arrangement was not carried out. Sybil Hayden vetoed it.

“I have not had my say yet,” she declared, with an expression of determination on her pretty face. “You may all do as you please, but I am going back to the castle. I am interested in the squabble, as my friend, Mr. Allen, calls it. I want to be a looker-on in Venice. And, besides, I hope to induce you three husky men to come with me. Perhaps the end may come the sooner for your presence and assistance.”

“But, Sybil, the danger,” expostulated her father. “You have had enough of harsh experience, I should imagine.”

“No use talking, dad, I’m going to have my way. There is no great danger. There will be about twenty men against a dozen.”

“You are talking strangely for a woman,” returned the colonel severely. “I am surprised at your conduct.”

“There, there, daddy”—speaking caressingly—“you have miscalled your feeling. You really want to go to the castle. Now, be honest and tell the truth.”

“Well, I would like to go,” replied the colonel slowly, “but not under your conditions.”

The argument went on, and finally the colonel capitulated.

The quartet reached the grove in front of the castle just before dark. There was found the greater part of Wild Bill’s force. Two Comanches had been detailed to watch the mouth of the tunnel, and three others had their station at the rear of the building.

“You are sure, Hickok, that the Apaches are inside, are you?” asked Buffalo Bill.

“Yes. Several shots have been fired from the windows.”

“What is your program?”

“To stay here and starve them out. Can you suggest a better one?”

“I will tell you in a minute. Did those shots from the windows do any damage?”

“No. They were fool shots, fired to annoy us, I suppose, to give the impression that the inmates of the castle defied any attempt to rout them out.”

“You’ll have to stay here a month, Hickok; that is, if you are allowed to stay, before the garrison will be out of provisions.”

“Nonsense. I know, by what Black Wing told me, that there is not enough grub in the shebang to last a dozen men a week.”

“True, but suppose there are but two persons in the castle?”

Wild Bill caught his breath. “Do you mean——”

“Yes,” the king of scouts quickly interrupted. “I mean that the Apaches are not in the castle. They are playing trick against trick. Flag-pole Jack and Shorty Sands are inside, no others are there, and the shots were fired to make you believe the whole force of the enemy is in there. Do you catch on? At this minute, if I am not clear out of my reckoning, the Apaches are preparing to sneak up and massacre your whole outfit.”

“They will come from the rear, then.”

“Naturally.”

Wild Bill, who had been sitting on the ground, arose to his feet and issued some quick orders to the Comanches.

Four of them at once stole away in the darkness, going along the edge of the valley, two on each side.

As soon as they had departed, Buffalo Bill went to Sybil Hayden’s side and whispered: “There is likely to be trouble soon, and you must not be where you would run the chance of catching a stray bullet. Go around the wall until you get to a large, low-growing pine. Climb the tree, you will find it easy work, and wait until it is safe for you to return here.”

The girl at first refused to go, but upon her father’s supplication she left for the pine.

She had been gone five minutes, and the scouts sent out by Wild Bill had just returned with a startling report, when a scream, fraught with deadly terror, awoke the stillness and pierced Colonel Hayden’s heart like a knife. He was running along the wall in the direction of the sound when Buffalo Bill dashed by him, going at race-horse speed. A pistol shot was fired when the king of scouts was within a few yards of the pine tree.

Quickly following the report, a heavy body fell from the tree, striking the ground with a thud.

“That was not the girl,” said Buffalo Bill to himself, with positiveness. Then he called out in a thrilling whisper: “Miss Hayden—where are you?”

“In the tree,” was the answer given in a shaking voice. “I—I can’t get down.”

“Are you hurt?”—anxiously.

“No, but—I am stuck.”

The king of scouts struck a match, and, stepping forward, looked at the body that had fallen from the tree. It was that of Shorty Sands, and the outlaw was stone-dead.

Climbing into the tree, Buffalo Bill found that Sybil Hayden’s form had become wedged between two limbs. By using all his strength he was able to bend back one of the limbs so that the girl could move out. When both were on the ground she told her story. She had climbed into the tree, and was between the limbs when she heard a movement above her. Looking up, she saw the dim outlines of a man’s form, and immediately gave utterance to the scream that was heard at the front of the castle. Next she tried to leave the tree, but found to her terror that she could not move.

A hissing whisper caused her to stifle a second scream. “If you yell again, I’ll cut your heart out.”

Up to this time she had not thought of the pistol she carried. It was in her bosom, and she took it out just as the outlaw was about to swing himself to a limb opposite to her. As his feet touched the limb she fired.

“Did I kill him?” she whispered faintly.

“I couldn’t have made a better shot if I had been in your place,” the scout answered. “He’s dead, all right, and a good riddance to bad rubbish.”

They were on their way back to Wild Bill and the Comanches when they heard a groan. It emanated from some person not many feet from them. “Who is it?” whispered Buffalo Bill, while Sybil Hayden clutched his arm tightly.

“Hayden,” was the hoarse reply. “I ran against a root, and fell and hurt my head. Is Sybil safe?”

“Yes, father,” the girl answered, as she ran forward and knelt beside the colonel. “I am without a scratch.”

At this moment a wild commotion arose in the valley, not one hundred yards away. The air was pierced with shots and yells, and it was evident that a fierce fight was in progress.

It was over when the king of scouts reached the open space beyond the grove of trees. The Apaches who had planned to bushwhack the Comanches had themselves met with a surprise.

Of the band that had stolen silently up the valley, but three escaped, and these were never again seen in the Hualapi Mountains.

But one Comanche was killed.

Buffalo Bill was not surprised to hear that Alkali Pete had done his share in the work of extermination. The lanky plainsman had exposed himself more than once, but he seemed to bear a charmed life, and had come out of the fight without a wound.

“Only one enemy to attend to,” said Wild Bill, after he had heard the story of Sybil Hayden’s adventure. “Flag-pole Jack is in the castle, but we will get to him by the way of the tunnel.”

“Let him go,” urged Sybil. “You have done enough.”

Wild Bill would have made reply had not one of the Indians detailed to watch the tunnel come up as the girl ceased speaking. He had a report to make, and Wild Bill looked pleased when it was made.

It was short but important. Flag-pole Jack had attempted to escape through the tunnel, and had been shot and killed as he was crawling out of the long hole.

“All’s well that ends well,” said the colonel joyously.

The white contingent of the force that had routed the Apaches slept that night in the castle, and next morning left for the desert and the civilized places beyond.

Wild Bill resigned his position as acting leader of the Yelping Crew.

Colonel Hayden and his daughter went on to the military post in Wyoming. They parted with Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and Alkali Pete at Laramie.

What was said and done at the parting left the two scouts blushing like schoolboys.

“Kissed me, kissed me,” murmured the lanky plainsman, as he walked away with the king of scouts. “Didn’t she know’t I’m a married man?”

“Your status as a husband cut no ice with her, Pete. It was purely a matter of generous sentiment. Tell your wife, she won’t be jealous.”

“Ye don’t know her, Buffler. This aire is one o’ ther things I’ll shore keep ter myself.”

There was a pleasant twinkle in his eyes as he rubbed his cheek.

Upon their arrival in Laramie, Buffalo Bill received orders to proceed at once to Fort Grant. Alkali Pete elected to remain at Laramie, but Buffalo Bill and Hickok pushed on to Fort Grant, where they met with old Nick Nomad and Buffalo Bill’s Indian pard, Little Cayuse. From Fort Grant the outfit hit the trail for Skyline, where their services were needed.