CHAPTER XVII.

A TRAGEDY OF THE PLAIN.

A lonely shack left by Northern Pacific surveyors, on the rolling prairie perhaps one hundred and fifty miles east of Gallatin, showed evidence of habitation in the early morning of a balmy summer day. Ten rods away, in a sag almost hidden by sage brush, a pair of Indian ponies grazed peacefully.

Two men came out of the hut, climbed the highest ridge at hand, and scanned the horizon carefully, then went back to start a little fire and prepare breakfast.

“I can’t understand how you got away from the fort, Price,” said one.

“Easy enough, Ike,” returned the other. “Remember the crook-fingered ’breed, Pete, who got nabbed for the stage raid down toward Virginia City two years ago?”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps you may remember that I fixed it with the judge, and he got off light?”

“Um-h’m.”

“Well, Pete was at the fort caring for the horses of the officers. He knew me first glimpse, but he didn’t let on, and when he got a chance he slipped me out with a good mount, a sack of grub, and a belt full of guns.”

“Pete sort o’ squared his bill, eh?”

“He did, and if you ever see a chance to slip Pete a favor, Ike, on my account, I hope you’ll do it.”

“Bet yer life, I will, Price, but I never did like that Canadian polecat, though.”

“We’re all in the same box, Ike--any of us would knife the guard for a run and take the chances of decorating a rope. But most anything goes in this wild country--it’s every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost.”

“An’ the man that’s slow with his gun is the rear man every time, I notice. Eh, Price?”

“You hit the bull’s-eye, Ike, but you haven’t said it all. I reckon I’ve got to keep my gun ready, and be quicker than greased lightning till I get out of this territory. Every man-jack, red and white, seems looking for my scalp, except a few like you and Pete.”

“Keep a stiff upper lip, old man. I’m with you, and the liveliest ghost Buffalo Bill and his pards ever run up against. I want just one more whack at that crowd.”

“I hope you get it, Ike, and redeem your reputation. Your giant powder seemed hoodooed over Bozeman way.”

“I’ve got a new lot in my bag, and it’s good for a free ticket for the whole bunch of trail hunters, if I can get a chance to put it under ’em.”

“I hope you get the chance, but I want first and most to get as far from these Yankton Sioux and Crows as possible. I want to hit south and make Laramie City before I stop. Then I propose to prance in a different harness for a while.”

“Do you know which way Buffalo Bill went after the round-up?”

“Yes, I was particular to keep my ears open till I was sure of the course he was steering. He went to Helena to rustle the boys up there.”

“What do the soldiers think of Cody?”

“Oh, they think he’s a wonder, and they swear by him in seven languages.”

“Between you and me, Price, he is the only man this side the hot place that could have done you and your gang up in such short order.”

“And the only man who was too sharp to be caught by your quick-trip tickets,” retorted Price.

“I’ll get him yet,” said Ike.

“I hope you will, as I said before, but when you do will you please send me word, for I want a chance to help pick up the pieces.”

“If either of his ears is left whole I’ll send it to you---- Roaring rattlesnakes! see there!”

The cause of the exclamation of “Bloody Ike,” for it was none other than the ex-miner, was the sight of two red men leaned well forward on flying ponies. The Indians were drumming incessantly the sides of the animals in attempt to get more speed out of them, while three hundred yards in the rear came a tall, gaunt horse, with long, regular bounds that were gradually lessening the distance between him and the ponies. On the back of the horse sat a broad-shouldered, bewhiskered man with eyes fixed on the red men and ready rifle across his knees.

Now both Indians turned in the saddle and blazed away at their pursuer, who neither hesitated, changed his course, nor lifted his rifle.

The Indians began hurriedly to reload, working their heels at the flanks of their ponies the while, with the motions of a wooden monkey on a stick.

The trio were only half a mile away to the northward and rapidly going east. The watchers at the shack amused themselves by comments on the race, but admired the cool determination of the white pursuer, who glanced neither to right nor left, as the Indians again turned and emptied their rifles at him.

Presently the red men tried different tactics--they swerved, one to the right and the other to the left, and each belabored his pony with renewed vigor, each possibly hoping to gain fast enough so that the grim rider behind would take up the pursuit of the other.

This was apparently what the pursuer had been looking for, for his heels now went up, and the length and rapidity of the stride of the powerful horse increased.

Rapidly now the distance was annihilated. But the Indians were pulling apart, and he must soon select between them.

Then the rifle which had laid idly across the white man’s knees jumped to his shoulder. For an instant it was held there, a part of the bobbing pantomime, and then a yellow spurt left the muzzle, and instantly one of the Indians threw up his arms, and with a wild yell pitched from the back of his mustang.

The white man’s rifle dropped across his knees again, and the great horse swept harder and closer on the trail of the other red man.

Pursued and pursuer now tore away into the southeast, the relentless white man sitting unmoved as the Indian frantically loaded and fired at his pursuer.

And at last, with pursued and pursuer like ants on the sky line, Price, the former Indian agent in the Gallatin Valley, and his guilty companion, Bloody Ike, saw the close of the tragedy.

There was a sudden halt of the pursuer, a rigid erectness for an instant, a white puff, and the second Indian plunged from the back of his staggering pony, but no sound of shot or death yell came back over the intervening distance.

They had witnessed one of the many tragedies of those wild days in the great West--the days of an eye for an eve and a tooth for a tooth; the days when revenge was as sweet as ever and recognized in this ungoverned region as the right of man.

Slowly the bewhiskered white rider came back over the trail, and noting the presence of human beings at the old shanty rode down to greet them with:

“Well, what ye doin’ here?”

Price’s first thought was of an insolent retort, but, remembering the other’s decisive way of settling disputes, softened his manner, and said:

“Resting after a hard day-and-night ride.”

“Where be ye goin’?”

“Working south, now, across the Yellowstone. Came up to hunt down a horse thief Sioux, but lost him.”

“How many horses did he get?”

“Two, but we want to settle with him more than to get the ponies.”

“Well, thar’s a couple o’ ponies I reckon you c’n have, an’ welcome; their owners won’t need ’em any more.”

“What’s the cause of the falling out you had with the reds?”

“Devils raided my corral last night and shot my father--they won’t shoot any more fathers.”

“You better take the ponies.”

“I don’t want anything that ever belonged to one of the red skunks.”

The stern ranchman rode away, and Price somehow felt relief as those keen, dark eyes turned toward the settler’s home and stopped boring under the skin of these fugitives from the law.

Bloody Ike rode out and captured the ponies, and then the two men set off southward, leading two animals not their own. They hoped with these extra mounts to make better time in their flight from the territory where they were too well known for their own comfort. Even the Indians who were friendly with the whites had no use for Price or his gang unless it were to provide amusement at some torture party.

That was what Price feared, but he preferred to take his chances of escape through a country swarming with hostile red men to standing trial for his misdeeds with the array of evidence against him provided by Buffalo Bill.

Price was doubly glad that the grim ranchman was a stranger to him. There were some of these plainsmen who did not seem to understand a joke, and if they knew the joke was on Uncle Sam they might insist on his--Price’s--company back to the military camp.

But Price’s relief at getting off so easily was not long-lived, as we soon shall see.