CHAPTER XIII.

THE FLIGHT OF THE FUGITIVES.

On the top of a low hill a skeleton form outlined in fire shone gruesomely through the darkness. At intervals from this specter of fire came shrill and peculiar whistles, and high, quavering cries. Now and then low chuckles sounded.

“Nebby, I hope we didn’t skeer our friends inter fits, same’s we did them reds! Waugh! but them Injuns was runnin’! Ef a cyclone had struck thet camp plum’ center, it couldn’t ’a’ scattered things wuss.”

He whistled again, and emitted another quavering cry.

“Ef Pizen Kate ain’t fell down in a fit an’ died, Nebby, ’twill be a wonder! Fer a lady, Pizen Kate is ther wu’st ever.”

He ceased, and sat listening.

“I reckon, Nebby, thet when they started runnin’ they went so fast they ain’t had a chance yit ter stop. But these calls ort ter fetch ’em. Trouble is, mebbe they’ll also fetch Injuns. But ther skeleton looks o’ me ort ter keep ther Injuns away, I reckon. Injuns is got more superstition than sense. Otherwise, I reckon that yer rider, Nebby, would be layin’ dead about now by thet camp fire. ’Twar a desprit try, but we made it, ol’ hoss! And now if----”

He ceased again, for this time he had heard something.

“Waugh! Somebody, er somethin’, is comin’.”

He studied his horse’s ears, bending forward in the saddle to do so.

“No, ’tain’t Injuns! Ef ’twar Injuns, Nebby’d know it, and he’d be showin’ it. He says it’s white men. Mebbe, likewise, a white woman.”

He chuckled.

“I hopes thet ef Pizen Kate comes in answer to these hyar signals she’ll git so skeered of me that henceforth and ferever she’ll treat me same’s ef I war a gentleman, which she ain’t been doin’ lately. Waugh! Thar they come, whoever they aire!”

He lifted himself in his saddle.

“Whoever ye aire, spit it out, er mebbe I’ll begin ter sling bullets reckless!”

“It’s all right, Nick!” called Buffalo Bill.

Then Nomad yelled again with a recklessness born of high spirits.

“Buffler ferever!” he cried. “You heerd me, did ye?”

“I couldn’t well have helped it, Nomad; you yelled to wake the dead. If the redskins aren’t coming, too, it will be because they are too scared.”

“They’re good and scared, Buffler. Who ye got with ye?”

“We are all here.”

“Kin that be Nicholas?” came the voice of Pizen Kate.

“Don’t come too nigh me, Kate, er you’ll ketch afire.”

“Is that reely you, Nicholas?”

“Waal, it ain’t nothin’ but me, with a little fire paint added. Better be cautious about how you come too nigh me, though; you might ketch yer dress afire.”

She came forward, just the same. “Nicholas,” she declared, as she climbed with apparent painfulness to the top of the hill, “this here is the fu’st and only time that I’ve ever been proud o’ ye sense the day we was married. But you aire a sight! What ye got on yer?”

“Waal, mebbe I’d better hide my fiery anatermy,” he admitted. Forthwith he put on his coat; and with his handkerchief he wiped the greasy phosphorescent paint from his face.

“Where was Moses when the light went out?” he asked, and cackled again.

John Latimer seemed no less surprised than Pizen Kate. He was puffing heavily, for the sharp run had been almost too much for him.

“Mr. Nomad,” he said respectfully, “you are certainly a wonder. When I employed you to take care of my live stock and also do other work on the place, I didn’t dream that I had met such a genius.”

“I’m that smart,” said Nomad, with another cackle, “that it plum’ hurts me at times.”

Pizen Kate was asking questions in a stream.

“Katie,” he said, “supposin’ you postpone it till we’re outer hyar! Them redskins is goin’ ter be huntin’ fer our ha’r in just about no time. Soon’s they wake up ter the fact they have been bamboozled, thar will be things doin’. Then I reckon it’ll be healthier fer all of us ter be distant some from this place.”

“I don’t think their white leader will be fooled for long,” remarked the scout. “I dropped him, with a bullet; but it was from this little pistol, and it isn’t likely that his wound is very serious. If it isn’t, he will stir up trouble for us all too soon.”

“Which means thet we’d better be moseyin’,” said Nomad. “Waugh! I’m agreeable ter thet, and so’s Nebby. Neither of us likes ther vercinity of redskins.” He slid from the back of Nebuchadnezzar. “Katie,” he said, “bein’ as you’re the only female member of this hyar party, I reckon it falls ter you ter ride the one and only hoss we’ve got. Pardon me fer not thinkin’ of it sooner. I plum’ fergot, an’ left my comp’ny manners ter home on ther pianer.”

But Pizen Kate was made of stern stuff.

“No,” she insisted, “I don’t do no sich thing. I’m as good a walker as any of ye, and mebbe I’m better. You climb right back onter ther back o’ that hoss. I’ve got ter look after yer health, Nicholas.”

“I reckon,” said Nomad, speaking to Buffalo Bill, “that we might as well hike toward Mr. Latimer’s. Er shall we strike out fer ther town?”

“We’ll go to Latimer’s,” said the scout, without hesitation. There were a number of things at Latimer’s that still needed investigation.

“Mebbe you want to lay around out hyar and try ter capter ther white chief of them redskins,” said Nomad.

“We’ll go to Latimer’s first. We need rest and provisions, and also we need horses, which we’ll have to get from Golconda. And I’m not sure but it will be wise to summon assistance from there, also.”

An Indian yell was heard some distance away.

“Some Injun is lost, er has found somethin’ int’restin’, and is callin’ ter ther rest of ’em,” said Nomad. “Buffler, I reely think we’d better be movin’.”

Buffalo Bill was of the same opinion; so they hastened down from the hill, and then shaped their way as well as they could in the direction of Latimer’s, which was now a long distance off.