CHAPTER XII.

THE MYSTERY OF THE MOUNTAINTOP.

When Price’s henchmen brought back word that Buffalo Bill had slipped out of their trap, and made good his escape, and they could not tell in what direction, that worthy was in a savage state of mind.

“Why didn’t you drop ’im from the saddle without any warning when he went by?”

“We tried it, but his horse jumped just as we pulled, and then ran.”

“Well, where was your trip rope that we planned?”

“That worked to perfection and threw the horse. Long Hair plunged into the water, but was out again before we got there.”

The men did not tell Price of the counting incident, and the sensational way in which Buffalo Bill had drawn their fire, and then scared them into the wood with a few shots of his own.

Price was in a rage and asked for Bloody Ike.

“He is the only one of you to be depended on, and he can’t seem to do the thing right,” he stormed.

Then the leader went on:

“The devil is to pay. The Washington end has sent a man on here to shut us off, and wants us to keep dark for a time until the excitement blows over. But we can’t shut down until we get rid of Cody and his band. They know altogether too much, and we’ve got to get rid of them before we can keep dark.

“We captured an Indian boy last night that was spying on us at the hide-out. He is here to trail the Indians for Buffalo Bill, he told us, and I scared him into telling us a lot of Cody’s plans. So now if we don’t settle Mr. Buffalo Bill’s hash we’re a poor lot of tools.

“This Indian boy says Buffalo Bill has a hiding place near the upper ford on the Gallatin River, and I made him describe the country around there to see if he was lying. He told us of seeing Fighting Dan capture Red Dick and how many men each side had. He says Buffalo Bill has ten men with him, and they are going to meet here next week, if they don’t change plans because he is missing. Now, my opinion is that Cody will be in Bozeman within a day or two hunting for the Indian kid, and then is the time we must fix him.”

“How do you propose to do it?” one of the men asked.

“I want you fellows to cut loose and find Ike for me. He can do the job if we can locate the place where Cody stops when he comes to town.”

“That ought to be easy.”

“Yes; that other job was easy, but why didn’t you fellows make good? Now, get busy, and keep your eyes peeled for Buffalo Bill or any of his men, and report to headquarters at once.”

“What did you do with the Indian?”

“He’s in the cellar out at the hide-out. We are going to turn him over to Ten Rattles and his red cutthroats. They’ll take him up the Yellowstone and ‘lose’ him.”

Little Cayuse was indeed in the cellar of the hut where he had played eavesdropper and had dropped through the roof. The shrewd Piute had pretended to be badly scared, and had told a rambling story of what Pa-e-has-ka had planned to do and where he was now and would be in the future, every word of it misleading.

Little Cayuse had taken this part upon himself, hoping Price might think he would be useful to them later and would leave an opportunity for the Piute to learn something more of their plans.

The Indian youth was willing to undergo any hardship if he believed he was serving Pa-e-has-ka. He had faith that he could escape when the proper time should arrive, and contented himself with putting Price on the wrong trail.

Buffalo Bill and Hickok reached the Willow Inn next day, and half an hour later Price was in possession of the news. For reasons of his own Buffalo Bill had divided his forces. Old Nomad and Skibo had moved to another part of the range, a less exposed position which commanded a view of the entire mountaintop, and yet unapproachable except from one direction. Here one man could remain on guard while the other slept and safely await the orders of the scout. At the same time they might learn more of Bloody Ike and his retreat.

When Price heard that Cody had arrived in town his first question was:

“Is there a man at the hotel we can trust?”

“Sure; Fatty Joe is meat cook, an’ Miles Doughty is clerk.”

“Send Doughty over here as soon as he can come, without arousing suspicion.”

Dave lounged into the hotel, bought a drink, loafed around for a time, spoke for a moment with the clerk, bought another drink, and went away. Shortly after the clerk went out and walked directly to Price’s office.

As history records what transpired, we are permitted to follow the plot. Price said:

“Hello, Doughty; I sent for you on important business, but first I must ask if you can be relied on for a little deal that will net you a hundred or so.”

“You bet.”

“Do you know that Buffalo Bill and one of his partners are at your house?”

“I mistrusted as much, for I had heard they were in this part of the country.”

“Well, they are the chaps, all right enough, and they are here for a purpose. They intend to spoil the business of this whole section, pretending they are friends of the Indians. You know in the East they are working up a lot of sympathy for the redskins, and this Cody is playing a high hand for politics. He thinks he is going to be President sometime. Now, we want to get him out of the way in the quietest manner possible. Understand?”

“That’s my name.”

“Are you locked up tight?”

“As mum as a clam in freezing weather.”

“Well, then, here it is: If you can manage to get those fellows drugged, we’ll take them away and keep them out of sight--and pay you well for your part.”

“How could I get them drugged?”

“Easy enough. Couldn’t Fatty Joe fix their food? You know Horsey Al can fix up dope to lay out anything.”

“I’d have to see Fatty. I think he’d go into it if there isn’t to be any real killing. You know he is hiding from a record in the East, and he doesn’t want to do anything shady for a while.”

“Tell him he needn’t worry any about the killing--we’ll take them away to a safe place and keep them a while, and then if the weather gets too thick we’ll cut them loose and skedaddle.”

“I see. Well, I’ll have to talk it over with Fatty, so I’ll be going, but I’ll let you know to-night.”

Price had adopted another scheme because Bloody Ike seemed to have vanished since the night the hotel was blown up. He would have their food drugged, and if the dose proved fatal so much the better. “Horsey Al,” a local horse doctor of shady reputation, had suggested the plot and guaranteed to “lay out” the man who swallowed his “medicine,” and he said he could prepare it so no one could distinguish any peculiarity in the taste of food with which it was mixed.

It seemed the best plot thus far, and Price became quite enthusiastic. The Willow Inn was a large, low, rambling structure that was almost surrounded by trees and shrubbery. In no place was the building more than two stories high, and from any of the windows a drugged man could be removed in the night without discovery or causing suspicion.

If the victims were “doped” at their evening meal, they could be taken away in the early part of the night, and securely hidden before daylight, and every man taking part in it back in town as usual next day.

To detail the carrying out of the plot would occupy space and time, so we will jump to the period where Fatty Joe had followed instructions in the use of a package from Horsey Al, and had served the orders of Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill that night, the food heavily laden with a powerful drug.

Both men were hungry, and ate heartily, then went to their room for a smoke, planning later in the night to slip out of their window and look about town a bit for the missing Cayuse.

But an overpowering drowsiness caught them and held them to their chairs, where Price and his knaves found them an hour later, when they were admitted by the clerk.

Both men were bound and rebound and heavy towels tied over their mouths to guard against any slip if the victims regained their senses.

In this condition Buffalo Bill and his famous pard were taken from a rear window in the darkness, lashed to horses, and carried away into the night.

Price and his gang were jubilant. They had the great scout in their power, and declared among themselves that his career was ended. Now their work could go on, they said, for his pards would soon forsake the trail without his leadership.

At the hut in the outskirts that day Price and his men celebrated the event of Buffalo Bill’s capture. They drank much liquor and renewed their fealty in multiple oaths and rejoicings. Then they brought out Little Cayuse, and taunted him with his master’s helplessness.

Cayuse was in a panic at first when he heard that Pa-e-has-ka had been captured and carried away to some hiding place in the hills. But he kept his ears wide, and after the liquor had flowed freely for a time valuable information also leaked. Cayuse learned that Pa-e-has-ka and Hickok were under guard in the old mine. He also learned that a large consignment of blankets for the Indians had found its way to the mine and was stored there, to be peddled out as opportunity offered to miners and ranchmen.

And among other things which Cayuse picked up that day was the knowledge that large bands of Sioux were marching southward, where they were massing in the Bad Lands. A messenger had come from the region of the Big Horn cañon and reported thousands of Sioux in that locality. All were in their war paint, and they were under the orders of Sitting Bull. Chiefs Gall and Rain-in-the-face were there.

Price and his followers decided to move their principal effects to the mountain stronghold, where they could defy white men or Indians if they were driven to the wall. They would commence at once to store food, liquor, and ammunition, and keep a strong guard posted. Horses, too, were necessary, with hay and grain for them. If the government had a war with the Indians, when it was over business of all kinds would be booming in that part of the country, and the thousands of blankets now on hand would be worth good money.

Late in the day several of the men were laid away to sleep off their celebration. Price went back to town, and those left in charge were none too sure of themselves.

Cayuse thought it was the proper occasion to part company with the crowd, and went about it methodically. He had discovered before this that he could readily release his hands, which were bound with a horsehide lariat. In one corner of the cellar was a place where water filtered through from a sink drain. In this Cayuse held his hands and wrists until the horsehide was thoroughly soaked. He then, by standing on the thongs, stretched the hide until he could pull out one of his hands.

It was a simple matter to remove the rest of his lashings, but not so easy to escape from the cellar and building. Above, in the only room, were eight men, five of them drunk, to be sure, but three with sufficient sense left to realize what the occasion called for if the prisoner attempted to walk away. There were no windows opening out of the cellar.

The stairway was narrow, and a ladder served as a means of entering and leaving the underground apartment. This ladderway was behind the cook stove and wood box.

As soon as dark Cayuse crept up and peeped under the stove into the room, which was dimly lighted by a lantern. Six men were snoring in various positions on floor and stools, and two were smoking and talking, their conversation dealing principally with their compadres, who, they said, “couldn’t stand any liquor.”

Cayuse studied the situation, fixing in his mind the exact positions of the men about the room. He was about to undertake a desperate chance. He went back to the cellar and secured several round, smooth stones. Then he crept back up the ladder again, and listened to the senseless mumbling of the two men who thought they were not drunk.

Poising himself carefully where he could see past the wood box, Cayuse hurled one of the stones with unerring aim at the lantern. With a crash the glass flew in a thousand pieces, and the cabin was instantly in utter darkness.

“Whash ’at?” demanded one of the half-sober men.

“Lan’n ’xploded,” explained the other, with remarkable sang-froid.

“’Xtror’nary!” said the first. “Musht been too full, shame’s shum theshe other fellers.”

“No; draught, cosh chimney too hot.”

“Yesh; ’twash sho many dra’f’s made theshe fellersh hot, too.”

Cayuse crept across the floor, while the guards discussed the cause and effect of the explosion and fumbled for matches.

The door was not fastened, and he let himself outside noiselessly. Then he changed his mind and returned.

The guards were still talking to each other and hunting for matches. Cayuse believed they, too, would soon be in drunken slumber. He had determined to arm himself. They had taken his rifle, also the belt with his revolver and knife, but his precious medicine bag was safe inside his shirt.

Cayuse had noted in the dim light that several rifles and belts were hanging on the wall, but he had not been able to distinguish his own. Now, climbing over the unconscious forms of the outlaws and expecting every moment to see the glare of a match that would reveal him to the enemy, he felt deftly and rapidly along the wall.

“I have ’m now,” chortled one, as he banged against the stove.

“Mashes al’sh over here by shtove.”

“Lookoush not drop ’m in wood box, shet housh ’fire,” cautioned the other, blundering along until he, too, collided with the stove.

“Heresh be!”

The exultant exclamation was immediately followed by a crash, bumpety-bump-bump, then groans and swearing from the lower regions.

One of the men had fallen down into the cellar.

If Cayuse had been of any other race he would most probably have laughed at the comical side of the situation. But Cayuse was busy carrying out rifles, belts, revolvers, knives, and ammunition.

He had found his own outfit, and now he proposed to disarm those who would be most likely to follow him. He carried the arms into a thicket near by, and buried them in brush and leaves, keeping out several of the best revolvers. He thought these might be needed by Buffalo Bill and his pards. Cayuse also carried away all the cartridges.

“Ugh! Heap fool palefaces; drink rum and steal!” The Piute thus summed up his opinion of the gang that had accidentally captured him.

Little Cayuse had determined that his first work should be the release of Pa-e-has-ka and Wild Bill. He had understood that they were under guard in an abandoned mine, and he had no doubt that it was the mine where Bloody Ike had taken refuge. He knew, too, that Skibo and old Nomad were in the mountains, and he hoped to find them before morning.

Cayuse thought of his loved Navi, but the little pinto had been left at the hotel stables, and the Piute did not believe any one would dare remove him. The penalty for horse stealing in that part of the country was greater than for killing a man, red or white.

The Piute pard of Pa-e-has-ka decided to make the trip on foot, and set off at the easy lope of the Indian, and with the instinct of a homing pigeon.

“Hol’ on dar, ye red-an’-yeller debil, er Ah’ll be ’bliged ter send some sinkers ober ’mong yer ribs,” explained a voice, after he had been one hour on the way.

“Ugh! Heap fool, Skibo; don’t know Cayuse.”

“Bress mah soul, if it ain’ de little red pard hisse’f!” and Skibo grasped Cayuse’s hand in a grip that threatened to crush it. The darky insisted on waking up old Nomad to tell him the news, and the veteran trapper was as warm in his greeting as Skibo had been.

“Waal, by ther ’leven-foot horns ov ther old Obadiah! Look et thet thar walkin’ arsenal! Whar ye been, Cayuse, ter pick up thet conglomeration o’ pepper boxes?”

Cayuse briefly related his story and what he had learned of Pa-e-has-ka and Hickok.

Old Nomad was in a frenzy of rage and determination to buckle on his guns and dash into the mine shooting right and left.

Skibo was helpless in his lack of grasp of such a situation. He had no idea of the best method of procedure.

Little Cayuse argued long and earnestly with Nomad.

The Indian boy wished to undertake the investigation of the mine alone. He felt sure that he could discover more in his own way, by stealthily entering and exploring the mine, than the three could do with the unavoidable noise which they would make.

At last old Nomad consented to remain behind, with the understanding that if Cayuse got into trouble or needed help he should give the signal known only among the pards and never described aloud. Then Nomad and Skibo would dash to the rescue and bombard the place.

At last the details were settled, and shortly after midnight the Indian youth crept into the upper mouth of the abandoned mine with the tread of a cougar, and the investigation of the retreat of Price and his gang had begun.