CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A CAPTURE AND AN ESCAPE.

When Buffalo Bill came in sight of the hill where the outlaws lay waiting for him, and saw the narrow pass through which he must go, he stopped, for he was wary and alert to discover signs of danger.

“They were in a great hurry here,” he said, “and I suppose they went right on; but, just the same, that looks too favorable for a trap, and I think we’ll investigate it.”

He brought out his field glasses and surveyed the sides of the hill and the pass as well as he could, without discovering anything.

Pawnee Bill and Nomad also scanned the suspected points, and saw nothing out of the way.

“If any one is there, they see us, or have seen us,” said the scout.

He turned his horse about and rode behind a hill, and the others did the same.

Buffalo Bill wished heartily that Lena Forest was not with his party. He did not doubt her courage. But she was a young woman, and in the wild work he anticipated there was no place for a woman, however brave she was. Yet he knew that she would not go back. She had already refused to do that; and, of course, he could not leave her without protection. But now he made another suggestion, without believing she would accept it. This suggestion was for her to accompany Pawnee Bill to the town of Glendive, where she could remain, and Pawnee Bill could gather a force there and hurry back with it.

Pawnee Bill stood ready to go, but Lena Forest demurred.

“I am not a child, and I’m not a weakling, if I am a woman,” she declared. “I’ve given way to you, and have left the emeralds behind; but I’m going on, in this trail, when you go on, if I have to walk.”

“I’ll ride for help,” said Pawnee Bill, “though you know, Cody, that if you’re to mix in any fighting, I’d rather be in it with you than to eat when I’m hungry.”

After a time of discussion, Pawnee Bill departed, on a swift ride for assistance.

“I can’t go on,” said Buffalo Bill, “until I’m positive no road agents are on that hillside. So, if you will stay here with Nomad, Lena, I’ll make it my business to find out.”

“Look out fer yerself, Buffler, when ye do!” Nomad warned.

Black John was as wily and wary as Buffalo Bill. He had seen the scout; and, while leaving the most of his men to guard the pass, he was himself, with a few others, moving swiftly, for the purpose of trapping the scout where he was.

Hence it happened that while Buffalo Bill was stealing along under cover of the hills, intending to swing in a semicircle and get behind the outlaws, if they were on that hillside, Black John was riding as silently in a semicircle round in the other direction, intending either to trap the scout and his companions in the scrubby grove, or drive them into the pass, where they would come under the guns of the road agents there.

When Black John came in sight of the spot where he thought to find Buffalo Bill, both the scouts were gone. But Nomad was there, with Lena Forest.

“Cody and his pard have rid on toward the pass,” was Black John’s conclusion, “and the boyees will rake ’em in there. So here we go for to rake in the two we sees before us. Now we put our hands on them emeralds, fer here’s ther girl that’s got ’em.”

He could hardly repress a smile, for he felt the buckskin bag of emeralds pressing in a lump against his flesh, under his coat.

But that mention of the emeralds was a bait for the men, and they moved forward with him, making a clever sneak upon the trapper and the girl.

Nomad was talking in a fatherly way with Lena Forest, telling her that she was foolish in insisting on staying with Buffalo Bill, when all she could do was to hamper him.

“Ye see, I’m older’n he is,” he was saying, “and so I’ve got past ther p’int where I’m skeered ter say my say ter a woman because her face is purty. ‘Purty is as purty does’ ter me now; though onct there war a time when ther sight of a flutterin’ dress would set my heart ter knockin’, and I wouldn’t had any more sense than a two-year-old. Them times is gone by; I’m old, and I’m thet humly that I’m ashamed ter look in a lookin’-glass, and I know it. So I kin afford ter speak plain ter ye. You’re makin’ things hard fer Buffler by insistin’ on stayin’ with him. ’Tain’t no proper place for a woman, and----”

“But how can I leave Bruce and----”

“Thar ye go; thar ye go! When a gal gits in love she loses her sense. And that’s what ails ye. I don’t object ter ye thinkin’ proper good and strong of ther man ye expect ter marry; but at ther same time, hoss sense is hoss sense, and not somethin’ diff’runt. I say thet you ought to go to ther town, and thet yer ought ter have gone when Pawnee Bill went. And I say, furder----”

He was not given an opportunity to say anything further. Old Nebuchadnezzar, his homely, shaggy-headed horse, thrust out his nose, scented into the bushes, and then gave a jump and a squeal.

It was a warning; old Nebby was a veritable watchdog. But the warning came too late.

Before Nomad could seize his rifle, three men burst through the bushes, and each covered him with a revolver. They were Black John and two of his men, and two more came in sight a minute later.

“Surrender!”

Nomad was almost too chagrined for words. He knew that he was to blame for permitting these men to sneak on him undiscovered in that way, and hold him up at the point of the revolver.

Nebuchadnezzar bared his greenish teeth, and in another moment would have been at the throat of the nearest man.

“Whoa, Nebby!” Nomad yelled. He had seen the man pitch up a revolver, and knew that Nebby would get the bullet. He knew, too, that a bullet would be his own portion if he made an attempt to run.

“Ketched nappin’!” he said, lowering his rifle. “Yer aire too many fur me. But if I hadn’t been a fool, ’twouldn’t happened.”

Lena was too startled and too frightened for words. She stared at the masked outlaws, her eyes big and bright, her face turning white.

“Drop your gun!” Black John commanded.

Nomad looked at him hard, and let the rifle slide to the ground.

“I’m a fool, but I don’t skeer easy,” he said; “and I know who ye aire, old hoss, which I’ll say it if I never speak another word. Why don’t you take that devil’s han’k’cher off’n yer face?”

Black John came forward, holding his revolver in readiness.

“Keep him covered!” he called out. “Where’s the rest of your crowd?”

“Yer aire lookin’ at ther whole of them,” said Nomad. “Me and my daughter, hyar.”

“Oh, your daughter! Where’s Cody and Lillie?”

“I hesertates ter say, not knowin’.”

“They were with you a few moments ago. I reckon they’ve gone on toward the pass. Well, we’ll bag ’em there.”

“They ain’t sech fools as me,” said Nomad bitterly. “When I git through with this trail, I’m goin’ ter quit, and retire ter some quiet home fer men thet has lost their senses. If I’d had mine, you wouldn’t ketched me like this. But it’s all right; I’m old, and ain’t got too many years in this world, and you can’t skeer me. But I does ax yer to be easy wi’ ther gal.”

“Search her,” said Black John, to one of his men.

The masked bandit came forward.

“You’ve got some em’rulds,” said this rascal. “Fork ’em over, and save yerself trouble.”

“But I haven’t them!” she protested.

“Fork ’em over!” he shouted.

“I haven’t them. We left them behind; but where, I refuse to tell you.”

“Search her!” said Black John, grinning in a knowing way.

The man sprang upon the frightened girl, and the next moment it seemed that he would tear her clothing from her body.

It was too much for Nomad. Regardless of the revolvers leveled on him, he leaped to Lena’s aid. With a blow of his fist he laid the miscreant on the ground. At the same time his shrill whistle to Nebuchadnezzar sounded, and the old horse came jumping to his side.

“Git on him!” Nomad yelled to the girl, as he fought with another outlaw who assailed him.

Lena tried to obey, but her skirts were caught by the fallen rascal, and she was thrown down.

Black John came to the assistance of the man who was battling with Nomad, and in a few moments the old man was conquered; and then his hands were bound, while he was held down.

“Shoot him!” snarled the rascal who had been bowled over by Nomad’s gnarled fist.

“Not yit!” Black John commanded. He put up a hand for silence. “Mebbe that’ll draw Cody and Pawnee Bill,” he said; “and if they come we’ll have a fight, er mebbe we can capture ’em here. Listen!”

But if the sounds had reached Buffalo Bill, there was nothing to indicate it.

Nomad looked regretfully at the girl, who, frightened and trembling, was standing close by, one of the outlaws grasping her by the arm.

“Too bad, leetle gal,” he said; “but I’ve allus noticed thet storms never last, and thet bright weather allus comes after they’re over. It’s hard lines fer ye now, but better times is comin’.”

“Shut up!” commanded Black John, who was still hearkening for some sound of the approach of Buffalo Bill, and of Pawnee Bill, whom he thought with him.

Old Nebuchadnezzar, his bridle held by one of the masked men, was dancing in uneasiness and anger.

“Whoa, Nebuchadnezzar!” said Nomad. The uneasy horse gave him an idea. Nebby was within a yard of him, and on Nebby’s back was his old, high-horned saddle. Nomad’s feet were not yet bound, though that would come soon, he knew.

The shrill whistle, in a different key, rose from his lips. He jumped to the horse and threw his bound hands up, so that the cords which held his wrists together hooked over the saddle horn.

Nebuchadnezzar gave so shrill a squeal that it was almost a scream, and at the same time gave a jump and lunge which hurled to the ground the man who was holding the bridle.

The man tried to cling to the rein and stop the furious old horse, but Nebuchadnezzar trod him under foot; and the next moment he was “running away,” with old Nomad swinging along, supported by the saddle horn.

The old man had not taken time to get into the saddle--had feared to try that--but was hoping the horse would bear him beyond the outlaws, and that he could in some manner escape.

Black John and some of the other outlaws pitched up their revolvers; but instantly Black John lowered his.

“Don’t shoot!” he said, for he did not want to send such an alarm to Buffalo Bill. He had the girl, whom he had desired, and as for old Nomad, he did not care much about him, one way or another. Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill he desired to capture, or to kill. Hence his caution.

“Don’t shoot!” he said again.

“But he’s gittin’ away!”

“Let him go! He’s no good to us, anyhow. But Cody and Pawnee Bill will be comin’ back here purty soon, in answer to that racket. They’ll want to see what it means, an’ we’ll rake ’em in right here, if the boyees down at the pass don’t do it. Down with you fellers, and git the horses back; and don’t one of ye so much as breathe. Here, young lady, come with me, and keep yer handsome mouth shet, er I’ll put a knife into it, by way of a gag.”

The escape of Nick Nomad had come with such stunning suddenness that Lena Forest could hardly credit it, and knew not what to do, or think.

When Black John seized her by the wrist and drew her back into the bushes, she did not at first make any resistance, but she began to struggle when she comprehended what this meant--the capture of Buffalo Bill.

“I shall cry out and warn him,” was her thought. “They can’t scare me enough to keep me from doing that.”

She was thinking, too, in a wild way, of Bruce, wondering where he was, for she had been sure he was with the road agents. Though she could not see their faces, she was certain these were the road agents who had held up the stage, and, therefore, that they were the same scoundrels who held Bruce a prisoner.

She forgot the torn and shocking condition of her dress, in her desire to warn Buffalo Bill. And lest the outlaws should gag her, or remove her to some other place, she tried to give them now as little trouble as possible. So she crouched down, as Black John ordered her to, and listened with the listening outlaws for some sound that would show Buffalo Bill was returning.

However, that sound did not come, nor was anything heard from the direction of the pass to indicate that the scout had fallen into the ambush laid for him there.

“Cuss him!” said Black John, breathing hard. “What’s happened, I wonder? He and Pawnee Bill ought to have heard that row, and be comin’ back.”

“We’ve got the gal, anyway,” said one of the rascals, with a grin; “and I’m believin’ she must have them em’rulds. If she ain’t, he has; and we’ll git ’em, er know why.”

The “he” referred to Bruce Clayton.

Still no sound reached them indicating the return of the two scouts.