CHAPTER XV.

THE BATTLE OF THE BLADES.

"Well, boys," greeted Jesse suddenly appearing among them.

"That was a clean up for sartin," answered Texas, grinning. "One of 'em come down here and Tony here picked him up. He was going to kiss the fellow, but we wouldn't let him. Ha, ha."

Tony went outside for a breath of fresh air.

"Tell us about it, Jess," urged Frank.

"There isn't much to tell," informed Jesse.

"The fools didn't even have pickets out. I managed to shove a stick of the stuff under the chief's wigwam--"

"Who, Great Bear?" interrupted Wild Bill.

"Yes. The rest of the stuff I distributed around where it would do the most good and crawling under a rock back of the village I let 'er rip."

"I should say you did," interjected Frank. "How many of them do you think you blew up?"

"I'll gamble my pistols that there isn't enough of that community left, if patched together, to make six whole men--maybe even less than that. It rained Indians and pieces of Indians for ten minutes steady. And you know a lot of redskins could rain down in ten minutes. What's left of them will never trouble Jesse James again. Eh, boys?"

The gang nodded their approval of the sentiment.

"What are your plans now?" asked Frank.

"That's what I was coming to," answered Jesse. "First of all I want to corral a side of beef or a leg of mutton. It has been so long since I had anything to eat that my pipes have nearly growed shut. How is your appetite, Harry?"

"Me?" replied the homely one. "I could eat a sheep, from hoof to wool. I've drawed my belt so tight already that the end of it trips me up every time I try to walk. I'--I'm ready to be one of them fellers--what do they call them fellers that eat men?"

"Cannibals?" suggested Jesse.

"That's the breed. That's what I'd be if I had half a chance."

Jesse laughed good-naturedly.

"I move we get out of this place as soon as possible. We shall probably not be able to get a meal before morning, but as soon as we decide on what direction we shall take, we can be on our way and out of the canyon before morning. The first thing for us to do, it seems to me, is to get some horses. Ours have gone. Either the soldiers or the Indians got them. Most of the Indian ponies went up in my little explosion, and those that did not, ran away.

"I know where there was some ponies yesterday," spoke up Comanche. "I saw a whole bunch of them grazing on the mountain on the other side of the canyon over there."

"We'll see about that later," replied Jesse. "The question is, what direction shall we take? It won't do to go north, for we are liable to run into more of the troops. The fort is off in that direction, and they would be glad to see us.

"How about it, Bill? You know this country. Is there any place near here where we can lay up for a while and not get sold out--a good safe hang-out where the grub is plenty and not too many babblers around?"

Wild Bill considered the question carefully for a moment.

"I opine I could find such a shack," he answered with a grin. "I know a fellow who would take us in and be danged glad of the chance--"

"Is he all right?" demanded the desperado.

"Well, they'll all bear watchin', I reckon. He makes his living out of a stage coach now and then. When business is poor he catches a prospector or something of the sort. Guess he'll do though."

After long and laborious effort the outlaws succeeded in picking their way down the steep mountain side. Instead, however, of following on down the canyon toward its foot, they turned abruptly south, and the dawn was appearing in the eastern sky, when, foot-sore and weary, as well as ill-tempered, they finally ascended to the broad plateau to the west of the canyon, but as they looked across, nothing was to be seen of the Indian village where the stirring incidents of the previous day had occurred.

"Any almost-food places hereabouts, that you know of?" demanded Jesse of Wild Bill.

"No, but there's a ranch about two miles west of here. And the fellow used to have a fine bunch of Kentucky thoroughbreds. Probably stole them at that, but they were dandies--"

"Good. Me for the ranch," exclaimed the great desperado as the men settled down in a long lope with anticipations of a steaming breakfast at the end of their journey.

It was just sun-up when the bandits finally approached the ranch, and Jesse announced his intention of going to the rancher's cabin alone, while the others remained in the background. But upon second thought, he told Wild Bill to accompany him.

No sign of life was observable about the place, and the outlaws were of the opinion that the household had not yet awakened.

The great desperado struck the door of the cabin, several thunderous blows with the butt of his revolver. But there was no response to his noisy summons. Stepping back a few paces he gave vent to a roar that should have awakened the soundest sleeper.

"Hullo the house!" he shouted several times, but without result.

Having failed to bring any response at all, the outlaw adopted a more drastic method of arousing the inmates of the place. He heaved a rock through an upper window, then set to with a will kicking the door with his heavy boots.

Then a most surprising thing happened.

The door suddenly flew open. A brawny hand grasped the outlaw by the collar and jerked him violently inside. Then the door was slammed to behind him.

At the instant of the occurrence, Bill's attention was directed in another direction. He had observed a bunch of likely looking horses grazing in a large corral on beyond the cabin. He was watching them with envious eyes. And his surprise was therefore great, when, upon turning he found that Jesse had suddenly disappeared. Not twenty seconds had elapsed since he first turned his attention to the horses, and he had heard no sound of voices nor the opening and closing of doors.

Bill did not like the look of things, and dodged behind a tree to wait further developments, though just what he expected might occur, he was unable to define to himself. There had been no commotion within the cabin so far as he had been able to observe. He could not relieve his mind of the feeling, however, that his chief was inside and that he was in difficulty of some sort. But what to do under the circumstance, he did not know. Perhaps the bandit-chieftain was working out some suddenly laid plan of his own, and to interfere with which would be fully as serious for Bill as would be the leaving of his chief in danger.

Wild Bill finally made up his mind to hurry back for consultation with his companions. Acting upon this impulse he turned and ran swiftly back, dodging in among the trees to screen his movements as much as possible, from any prying eyes that might be about. Seeking out the men he quickly made known to them the strange situation.

Frank's keen perception reached a solution of the problem instantly.

"Of course Jess is inside. They opened the door and pulled him in. That's what there is to it. You heard no shots?"

"Nary a shot."

"Then there is a bunch of them in there," he emphasized conclusively. "Can we get near the place without being seen from the cabin?"

"Yes, the trees run down pretty close to it on one side. At the back they are further away. The corral is in back and there is a bunch of fine nags there too."

"Ah," exclaimed Frank, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Come on boys, we have got some more work on hand."

"And danged little grub," added Homely Harry ruefully.

"I calkerlate we'll corral some of that too," grinned Comanche Tony.

"Yes, but we will be lucky if we don't get a belly full of lead," warned Frank with his customary pessimism.

By this time they had come within sight of the cabin, but still, no sign of life was discoverable to their keen eyes. The place might have been deserted for aught they could observe.

The leader decided to wait, and, placing a man on either side of the clearing so that no one could leave the place without being seen by one of them, the bandits settled down as patiently as their empty stomachs would permit. They were well supplied with rifles and ammunition, provided for them by Dew Drop, and so far as fire arms were concerned were in position to do effective work.

"Why not give 'em a volley?" suggested Comanche Tony.

"Yes, and probably kill Jess," growled Frank. "That would be a fool thing to do for sure."

"I've got a plan," suggested Wild Bill. "If there's any duffers inside, it'll smoke 'em out sure enough, I reckon."

"Quick, out with it," commanded their leader. "We must do something."

"It's this. Supposing one of us goes over to the corral there and cuts out a hoss. Let him bring the critter along and tether him out here somewhere in the bushes. I reckon they'll show their hand about that time if there's anybody there," grinned Bill.

Frank appreciated the force of the argument.

"I should imagine they would," he agreed. "Better leave your rifle here, but see to it that your side arms are in working order. We will support you from the bushes with our rifles if necessary."

Wild Bill, skirting the clearing, kept well within the line of trees until he had arrived opposite the corral. The latter now being between him and the cabin, effectually screened his approach to the horses.

There still was no movement about the place, and the bandit, crouching low, roped a fine, rangy thorough-bred and led it out through the rear of the corral where saddles and bridles were hanging in a row on the fence.

"This is like gittin' money from home," muttered Bill as he saddled and bridled the supple-limbed animal.

All being in readiness, the hardy desperado swung himself into the saddle. But instead of adopting the safer course and cutting into the forest at his right, Bill dug the rowels of his spurs into the sleek sides of his mount, and with a wild whoop dashed straight across the clearing to where his companions were waiting with guns trained on the cabin.

To their surprise and mystification, however, not a word nor protest was raised from the mysterious cabin.

"Well, I'll be--" began Bill, pulling up and surveying the clearing in perplexity.

"Try it again," suggested Frank.

"We have got a good horse, anyhow. Go back the way you went before, don't hurry. If they see the performance is not to be repeated they will turn their attention this way."

The desperado's plans had been laid with savage cunning, but the fruition of them seemed as far away as when they began.

Again had the clever outlaw reached the corral without being detected. And as before, he made a choice of the best animal in it, which he quickly roped, led out and mounted. But before setting out on his journey to the other side of the clearing, he drew one of his trusty "Colts," grasped the reins firmly and dug in the spurs.

This time, however, the outlaw rough rider adopted a different plan acting on his own initiative. He drove the animal first straight over the course previously followed, but when almost opposite the cabin, suddenly whirled toward it, passing within a rod of it at express train speed.

As the desperado swept by a rifle crashed from an upper window, but Wild Bill's sudden and unexpected change of course had destroyed the marksman's aim and his bullet flew harmlessly over the rider's head.

Like a flash, Bill threw down his gun on his assailant who stood in plain view up there in the window, with rifle poised for another shot.

Rising in his stirrups the outlaw took a quick pot shot back at his adversary, uttering a savage yell of triumph and challenge as the man lunged head first from the window with a bullet through his heart.

Still, the outlaws off under the trees, divining his purpose, held their fire, and Wild Bill made safe cover with his second capture.

A shout of triumph from the assembled outlaws was quickly suppressed by Frank's stern command.

It was his purpose to leave those in the cabin, if persons there were there, in ignorance of their presence until the moment for action should have arrived.

It came too, unexpectedly. Two men, who somehow had managed to leave the place unobserved, were driving toward them on fleet horses that they had quickly taken from the corral.

"Well, of all the tarnation fools," exclaimed Wild Bill as he observed them coming.

"This simplifies matters," breathed Frank.

"Halt!" he commanded stepping to the edge of the clearing.

A fusilade of revolver shots greeted his order.

"Then take your medicine," he snarled.

The desperado's Winchester crashed twice. The two foolhardy horsemen toppled from their mounts dead. And to complete the coup, Wild Bill dashed from cover and skillfully roped the two animals, leading them in triumph to the outlaws' hiding place.

"If we wait long enough things will come right to us," he laughed tethering the horses in the bushes.

"Know that bunch?" demanded the leader.

"Never sot eyes on 'em before. They don't belong in these parts. I shouldn't be surprised if they was in here on a raid of some sort. And I'll gamble too that the fellow what own's the place ain't there. If he is he ain't takin' any part in this ruction."

"Well, what do we do next? Want some more nags?"

"Yes, better go back. We'll draw the rest of them out, if there are any more in the place. I would charge it, but it would be sure death to Jess and suicide for the rest of us. We must draw them out without showing our hand if possible. Failing in that we shall have to wait until night. Jesse is a captive and--"

"But what's the game?" asked Texas. "I never see such a queer one in my time."

"We will find that out later. Mebby the answer won't please us and mebby it will," was Frank's enigmatic reply.

Suddenly Wild Bill held up his hand for silence, his head extended forward in front of his body in an intense listening attitude.

"By heavens they're shooting!" he cried.

"To horse, all that have them!" roared the leader. "The rest jump on behind. Unsling your rifles as you go.

"Half go to the rear and the other half to the front. Smash the door in and shoot quick and fast."

By this time they were half way down the clearing. But those within were too busily engaged with their own affairs now to notice the bandits sweeping down upon them.

"You fellows in the rear duck and look out for our bullets if we get in first. If you break in before we do, we'll lay low!" was Frank's parting injunction to his men as they separated.

Leaping from their saddles the outlaws rushed on the door which went crashing in under their combined weight.

The room was so full of powder smoke that at first they were unable to distinguish a single object.

"Here I am over in this corner," roared Jesse. "Shoot the other way!"

And they did.

A volley of rifle shots rang out from both sides, but the bandits had dropped to their knees and fired up at their adversaries, whose bullets had whistled over the newcomers' heads and buried themselves in the logs of the cabin.

"Once more!" thundered Jesse.

Again the outlaws poured their deadly fire into the ranks of their enemy. And just then the door of the cabin at the rear crashed in and Wild Bill and the rest of the bandits rushed in.

With them came the sunshine and the gentle morning breeze that swept away the smoke.

Seven men lay dead and groaning on the floor.

"Jess, where are you?" cried Frank, peering over the ghastly array of faces.

"Here," answered Jesse. "Come and release me." And sure enough the notorious outlaw lay over in one corner. His hands were free, but his feet were securely bound, and in this condition he had been holding his desperate adversaries at bay, after surreptitiously freeing his hands.

Wild Bill's revolver cracked spitefully, and one of the fellows who had scrambled to his feet and sought to sneak away, went down with a bullet in his leg.

"Get him Bill!" roared the desperado chief. "He's the leader of this gang. But don't kill him."

And while Frank was releasing his brother, the others turned their attention to the men on the floor, all of whom were dead save two, besides the fellow Bill had winged in his attempt to escape.

Jesse's face was stern and those of his followers who chanced to observe the expression knew that the blood lust was once more strong upon their leader.

"Bring that fellow here! He seems to be the leader of this gang."

Tony jerked the cowering wretch to his feet and turned his face so the full morning light shone upon it.

"Hello, Sam," greeted Wild Bill with a grin.

"Know him, do you?" questioned Jesse.

"Know him? I should say yes. He's Sagebrush Sam, one of the orneriest coyotes that ever pulled a trigger."

"He is the fellow that laid me out with an iron bar when they jerked me into this place," announced Jesse grimly. "Now Mr. Sam, I reckon you'll answer a few questions."

"I ain't answerin' questions for the likes of you," snarled the captive.

"There is a ring up there in the joist boys, trice him up by his thumbs."

They did so, so that only the fellow's toes touched the floor. In a few moments he was writhing in agony.

"Did you know me when you saw me coming up to the cabin?" demanded Jesse.

No answer.

"Trice him up higher!" commanded the great desperado. "He'll come around in a minute or two."

Great beads of perspiration were rolling from the victim's face and signs of weakening were already noticeable in his agonized features. Jesse grinned appreciatively.

"Let me down! Kill me! I can't stand this!" groaned the unhappy wretch, his head dropping forward listlessly.

"Let him down. He's fainted," announced Jesse.

They forced a draught of whiskey down the man's throat after having laid him on the floor.

"Now get up!" commanded Jesse administering a vicious kick as Sam came back to consciousness. "Where is the man who owns this joint?" was his first question.

Sam pointed to the floor. "Down cellar."

"Dead?"

"No. We tied him up and left him there yesterday."

"What for?"

"We allowed we'd take his money and his horses. He sorter didn't take to the notion, so we put him away--"

"Wait a minute. Texas, go down cellar. Now go on. What next?"

"That's all."

"You lie!" roared Jesse striding forward and pressing his bowie against the fellow's throat. "You wanted those horses--what did you want them for? Quick!"

Jesse's keen mind had instinctively divined that the fellow had possessed some motive that he did not want to make known to them, and therefore, the desperado reasoned that this self-same information might prove useful to Jesse James.

"For to go to Silver City."

"Silver City? What for?"

"We 'lowed we'd stake out a claim thereabouts."

"String him up again boys," commanded the bandit chieftain. "He can't tell the truth any other way."

"I'll tell, I'll tell," cried Sam. "Kill me, for God's sake don't do that again."

"I am waiting. Go on."

"It was this way," began the captive hesitatingly. "They's been some big strikes in the mountains there and the bank we'd heard was keeping a lot of the dust and like, for a big shipment east in about a week."

"So, you were going to soar high--you were planning to rob a bank, eh?" sneered Jesse.

Sam nodded wearily.

"Where is this bank?"

"It's in the half of the building where they has the postoffice. It's an easy job if a fellow's got the nerve to go in in the daytime when the safe is open--"

"So you got a gang of cutthroats together and were going to steal the horses to go down there and try it, hey?"

"I could do it as well as Jesse James--"

"That will do," warned the notorious outlaw. "How many banks are there in Silver City?"

"Two. But I reckon the other one don't amount to much. It's in the back of a store about two streets down."

"What is the name of the first one?"

"The Silver City National. It's run by a man named Kemp from the east. But they do say he's stole more money by giving the miners underweight, than the whole pack of 'em has got out of it. I reckon it wouldn't do no harm to trim up that kind of a skunk."

"No, one skunk is as bad as another," returned Jesse significantly. "How much money or how much gold did you figure old man Kemp would have in his money bags?"

"We figured there'd be close onto fifty thousand," was the startling reply.

The bandits pricked up their ears and evinced a sudden interest in the conversation, but Jesse continued with his examination as carelessly as if the matter were of no moment to him at all.

"How do you happen to know all about this, Sagebrush Sam?"

"I wuz over there last week--"

"And of course you blabbed your plans to your cronies. Oh, you make me sick."

"No, no, honest to God, I didn't. I never told a living soul except--except a fellow that helps around the post office. He was to meet us when we got there and tell us how the wind blew--"

"And he was to get--how much?"

"We 'lowed we'd give him ten per cent of the rake off."

"H'm," mused Jesse. "What is the fellow's name?"

"Jake Fowler."

"Well, what next?"

"There ain't no next. I've told you all there is."

"I'll tend to you in a minute. Where's that rancher?"

"Here," answered Texas, leading in a very much bedraggled and sullen individual.

The notorious desperado related to him what Sam had just told them in so far as it concerned the rancher himself and asked the man if it were true. The latter said that it was.

"Then you haven't got any particular love for Sam here, eh?" chortled the desperado.

His men knew that their leader had some scheme in mind, but what it was they could not imagine.

The rancher's face suddenly filled with murderous hate.

"I'd like the chance to show you--and him," replied the other, turning a malignant look on their prisoner.

"Mebby we'll give you the chance. But first I want to make a little bargain with you. We want some horses. We're prospecting through here, and the Indians attacked us on the other side of the gulch, stampeding our ponies, and we barely got away with our lives."

The rancher nodded.

"I hearn them tell there was doings across the gulch."

"We will give you a thousand dollars for six, our own pick."

The owner started to protest.

"And here's your money," continued Jesse, without giving the fellow an opportunity to object. "Not a cent more. You've had one experience today and you'd better take the offer."

The rancher looked from one to the other of the stern faces about him.

"And besides we have saved your life, eh?"

"I'll take it," was the terse reply, as he reached for the roll of bills that the desperado extended in his open palm. "What about the pup over there?"

"Got a gun?" asked Jesse.

"They took 'em away from me."

"Here's mine. Use it if you want to," replied the outlaw carelessly.

"You, you mean--"

"Oh hurry up, or give me back the gun," retorted Jesse.

"You ain't goin' ter kill me be yer?" begged the miserable captive.

The rancher was fingering the gun at his side with convulsive fingers, his face growing more malignant with deadly hate from moment to moment.

"Bang!"

Sagebrush Sam wavered and plunged forward on his face, dead.

"Good job," commented the desperado.

The rancher had fired the fatal shot without so much as raising the revolver from his hip.

"You ain't no slouch on the trigger," commended the bandit chieftain. "There are two more fellows over there who haven't had enough medicine yet. I observe they are trying to crawl away now. Wait, don't shoot. Bill, straighten them up. Can they stand?"

"I reckon they can," grinned Wild Bill.

Jesse strode over to them and handed each a keen-edged bowie.

"Fight," he commanded tersely.

The horror of it sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room.

The men were friends, and the hands bearing the knives settled slowly to their sides as they looked into each other's eyes.

Two guns in the notorious outlaw's hands barked viciously at the same instant and each of the unwilling combatants lost a portion of one ear.

"By Judas that was a shot," exulted the rancher. "Mine ain't in it with that. Fight, you measly spalpeens!" he roared and Jesse smiled as he noted that the blood lust had taken supreme possession of the man.

"Yes, fight," added Jesse, notching the ends of the arses of both men with another of his wonderful shots as if to emphasize his command.

In blind despair the unhappy wretches raised their knives and with tightly closed eyes struck blindly out into the air.

"Close in," commanded Jesse sternly, sending a bullet ploughing through the upper lip of either man.

And now in blind consuming rage the victims began to strike. Their eyes were wide and in the desperateness of the moment, friendship turned to un-dying hate.

Each proved an expert with the knife. Their blades flashed in the sunlight whose rays slanted down through window and door.

It was thrust and parry as they leaped from side to side, forgetful of the wounds that the bandits had inflicted on them in the earlier battle.

Now and then a bowie would come away stained half way to its hilt.

Not a word was spoken.

The labored breathing of the combatants and the chilling clash of blades, were the only sounds that broke in upon the sweet-scented stillness of the mountain morning.

The scene held the spectators breathless. Even the great outlaw found himself interested in the desperate battle.

Blood was over everything, but the desperadoes heeded it not. The rancher's eyes were strained and the eyelids, drawn far up against the forehead, never once closed in a wink.

The blade of one antagonist went through the other's scalp, and a crimson stream spurted half way across the room. The faces of each were scarred with crimson rivulets that were constantly fed from the blood springs above.

The blade of the other sheathed itself in the shoulder of his antagonist, and in the next second each was tugging at the hilt of a knife in his opponent's shoulder.

The shirts of the desperate combatants were hanging in ribbons where the keen blades had been drawn in hopes of finding a human path and through the rents livid streaks showed in strong relief against the white flesh.

Weak from exertion and loss of blood, the fighters staggered together and with arms thrown about each other's necks, hung resting each upon the other.

"Break away!" thundered Jesse.

His voice seemed to rouse them suddenly--to renew the hate that for the moment had been allowed to slip like a mantle from the hearts of the two friends.

Their movements were slower now and less certain.

Finally each with a hand upon the other's shoulder began swinging the free arm to give it momentum and even then their blades did not reach.

"Thrust!" roared the blood-thirsty bandit chieftain.

Exerting a supreme effort a hand swung away from each body and returning empty hung listlessly at its owner's side.

Each had buried his blade in the abdomen of the other.

For a full moment the antagonists stood with hand on each other's shoulders.

At last their bodies began to sway.

They toppled and fell.

The body of one lay sprawling upon that of his friend.

And neither man moved again.

"I guess that will be about all," said the notorious outlaw in a harsh rasping tone that chilled them through and through.