CHAPTER XXXIX.

RESCUE OF THE SUPPLY TRAIN.

When Buffalo Bill and his pards reached the fort that night the commander was becoming alarmed because of the prolonged absence of Captain Smith and Wild Bill.

“Which way did they go?” asked the scout.

“Down the route toward Fort Reno.”

“Oh! they’ll show up, all right,” said the scout reassuringly. “Hickok is a whole regiment and an ambulance train combined.”

“I know; but I am getting worried about the supply train, which ought to have arrived five days ago. Captain Smith and Wild Bill rode that way, and should have returned two or three hours ago. What do you think of it?”

“I think, in that case, that Hickok discovered your wagon train in difficulties and has gone to their assistance. If you will give me fifty well-mounted men I should enjoy going to the relief of your supplies and men.”

“You can have them, Cody; and the sooner you start the better it will suit me.”

Tn spite of his hard day’s ride, the scout was impatient to be off. Old Nomad got wind of it and came tearing up to the officer’s quarters.

“See hyar! what’s this aire manoeuvrin’ whar’s likely ter be moosic an’ ole Nick hain’t included, hey?”

“You had better go to bed, Nomad; you’ve had a hard day,” said the general soothingly.

“Who, me? Me had er hard day? An’ ther prospects o’ scrimmagin’ woul’n’t rest me! Guess you don’t know ole Nick purty good, do ye? Say, gin’ral, ’f I cyant go ’th that thar outfit I’ll lay erwake an’ holler all night, so’s yeow an’ nobody else cyant sleep, nohow.”

The general laughed. “Well, go with Cody, if you expect to take it so much to heart.”

“Thar, thet’s more like yore usual ginerosity, gin’ral. I knowed ye’d do et, ef I put it up to yer right. When Pard Buffler goes anywhar I jest likes ter jog erlong, ’cause somethin’s bound ter hap’n.”

Nomad hurried away to saddle Hide-rack, but one of the officers insisted that the trapper take a fresh horse. Buffalo Bill, too, was given a splendid mount, and Cayuse, who could not be left behind, was provided with a good animal.

There were fifty-three men in the rescue expedition, with Buffalo Bill, ole Nomad, and Little Cayuse well in the lead to insure against ambush.

Two hours’ hard riding had shown no signs of a supply train, or of Hickok and the captain.

“We will ride for another hour, boys,” said the scout, “and then, if we discover nothing, turn back.”

But they had not ridden fifteen minutes farther when the quick ears of Little Cayuse detected the sound of firing.

The scout halted the line and listened. Distinctly now there came to their ears the sound of desultory firing, far to the southeast and beyond what must be quite heavy ridges.

“Look to your trappings and outfits, boys,” said the scout, “and be ready when we charge to carry all before us. Give ’em a good lesson this time, and chase them into the next county.”

The party took the last long rise easily, husbanding the strength of their horses, and when near the top paused for the animals to puff and to reconnoitre the situation.

But by the flashes of the guns and occasional attempts of the Indians to set the wagons afire by throwing blazing torches, the conditions were easily understood.

“Do you notice, to the north of the wagons, the Indians are doing everything to attract attention in that direction?” asked Buffalo Bill of a lieutenant at his side. “Well,” he continued, “I’ll bet a hundred to one they are massing to charge on the south side.”

“What shall we do?”

“Move down upon them quietly and get as near as possible, and then charge to the south of the wagons--make things hum.”

“I wish we had a bugler and some rocks,” said the lieutenant.

As if in answer to his request, Tootsie appeared at the withers of the officer’s horse.

“Let me do the tooting, sir?” he asked.

“What! you here?” exclaimed Buffalo Bill.

“Yes; I knew you wouldn’t let me come if you knew, and so I sneaked. You’ll forgive me, won’t you, Mr. Cody?”

“Yes, boy; get out your bugle and ride beside me. When I say the word sound the ‘charge,’ and then keep out of the way of the cavalry.”

So intent were the Indians in carrying out their own schemes that they knew nothing of the approach of reënforcements for the whites.

Suddenly from out of the darkness, two hundred yards south of the wagon train, started the thunder of beating hoofs and the fierce yells of at least three hundred red warriors.

But almost at the same instant, above the shrill, savage yells, arose the penetrating notes of the bugle in triumphant “charge.”

Like an avalanche thundered the half-hundred heavy cavalry horses, and before the Indians could be fully aware of their presence the soldiers were upon them.

Tootsie clung to his horse, and when he saw the dark forms of the savages scudding before him, he fired as fast as he could pull the trigger of his revolver, and occasionally added a blast from his bugle.

The boy bugler felt his horse overtake the Indian ponies and plunge among and over them, and then he found himself alone on the prairie beyond them, and heard the continuous crash of revolvers and the clank and clash of sabres on lances and shields.

He would have emptied his rifle into the black mass, but he could not tell friend from foe. He had entered the volcano by the side of Buffalo Bill, but the scout was back there in the midst of it now, and the boy wondered how he had been belched out beyond the rim.

Then out by him tore a maddened horde, the first part of it in full flight and the last part of it spitting flame and lead at the fugitives and hoarsely cheering as they rode after, relentlessly cutting down man and beast of the red marauders.

It was Tootsie’s first real taste of battle, and though it was tempered by the kindly gloom, it turned the boy’s soul sick--this useless waste of life, because of what?

Well, older heads than his have tried to reach the right of this question and failed. But it is always safe to assume that somebody was wrong, and with greed at the bottom of it and vengeance to drive it on, the soil of the great Western plains is soaked in human blood.

For another sickening hour the running battle raged, with the badly whipped Indians in full flight and their numbers constantly growing less until the scattered remnants were lost in the night and darkness had saved many lives.

Several white men were dead and wounded, and the train moved on sadly and slowly toward the fort. Buffalo Bill and his rescue party, led by himself and Nomad, with Little Cayuse and Tootsie closely following, were in advance. The scout had been slightly wounded and old Nomad had received an arrow in the flesh of his left leg. He also had a cut from a spear on the head, but he “never felt better” in his life, he assured those who asked regarding his wounds.

It was some time after daylight when the wagon train, intact, with its escort, reached the fort and relieved the anxiety of the commander. Buffalo Bill and Hickok were closeted for a long time with the general that night, and the latter profusely thanked the scouts for the part they had taken in saving the wagon train. He stated frankly that he believed the coming of the scouts to the fort had saved the supplies and the escort of fifty men, as well as the two women, wives of officers there, and the teamsters.

Buffalo Bill told the general of his discoveries concerning Lieutenant Avery and the mysterious “Queen of the Stars.”

The general was amazed. He looked almost incredulously at the scout for several moments, and then said:

“Twenty years ago, when I was living in Ohio, a man whom I had known from boyhood, Jake Payne, came home from a varied career in the West. He had always been wild and irresponsible, and at an early age ran away from the farm where he had been ‘bound out’ by his guardian--his parents were dead--and was not seen in his native town again until he came home to die from a pistol-shot wound which he said had been given him by his partner. He told a long story of their hardships and adventures in the Black Hills and elsewhere, and how at last they struck it rich. They opened a pocket and took out many thousands of dollars’ worth of pure nuggets of gold.

“The Indians became so troublesome that they at last attempted to steal away with their gold. They feared to go east through a country they knew then to be swarming with Indians, and determined to try their luck to the westward, hoping to fall in with other gold seekers or a cavalry detachment, or wagon train. They traveled nights, hiding their trail as much as possible, walking their mules in the beds of streams for miles and choosing the hard and dry mesa wherever possible.

“He told how they were chased by a party of Crows one night, and finally surrounded near the base of a particular butte. Their mules were killed and they dragged their treasure bags into a fissure and, there entrenched, held the Indians at bay.

“They finally discovered a hole in the rocks, and crawled in with their precious burden and plugged the hole up after them. At daylight the Indians charged, and were greatly mystified at their disappearance.

“To make a long story short, they found the mountain to be hollow. It was an absolutely safe retreat, and they remained some time. Later they buried the principal part of their treasure, filling their pockets only, and attempted to make the settlements to the southeast on foot. This they had nearly accomplished when a dispute arose between them regarding the final disposal of their gold, and a shooting affair resulted. Both were fatally injured, Payne finally reaching the nearest settlement, his partner dying on the plain.

“Payne described the mountain and hiding place of the gold to me, and I believe your sacred mountain is the place.”