CHAPTER XV

WILD BILL VISITS US

In preparing for a probable blizzard we had hauled up several loads of good, dry wood and chopped much of it into stove wood, carrying it into our quarters and stowing it away in the tunnel, still leaving a passageway, however. We found that the tunnel acted as a flue and caused such a draught through our little room that we were forced to temporarily close up the opening in the tent by placing a bale of wolfskins over the hole. We now put our stock into their dugout stable at night, giving them a little hay to gnaw at, and during the day, when not in use, we kept them out on the dry buffalo-grass. As yet we were feeding them no grain, saving that for a time of need.

"From now on," Tom said, "I want you men to be particular to put harness, tools, an' everything under shelter of nights, so that we can find these things when we want 'em, for we're liable to get up 'most any morning now and find a couple of feet of snow on the ground an' this ravine between us an' the stable drifted level full. In that case we'll want the spade an' shovel to clear away a passage to the stable door, so's we can 'tend to the stock; for a blizzard is liable to keep up the howl for several days an' nights; an' during such a spell we won't dare to poke our noses out of the shanty further than to feed the stock. We'll fix Found a comfortable bed in the tent, between the stacks of wolfskins, where he can be of some service as a sentry without being too much exposed, but in case of a very keen spell we'll bring him into the dugout."

Previous to this time Jack and I had explored the country for a distance of ten or twelve miles in every direction--not looking for game particularly, for that was always plenty close around camp, but for signs of the presence of Indians. We had discovered, however, no fresh signs--nothing to indicate that Indians had visited this part of the country more recently than a couple of months past. This fact encouraged us, and we hoped that we would be fortunate enough to finish our winter's work undisturbed. Still, Indians were likely to be moving about occasionally, even at this time of the year, and might yet discover our camp, in which case they might make it unpleasant for us.

This part of the plains was sometimes ranged over by the Cheyennes, Arapahoes, and other tribes, but had been for some time past the special range of the Kiowas, who, under the leadership of Satank, Satanta, and Big Tree, were ever ready to wipe out a small party when the opportunity presented.

While we relied somewhat on our proximity to Fort Larned as a protection from Indian depredations, we felt that our only real security was in not being discovered by the Kiowas until our hunting season was over and we were ready to break camp and return to the settlements.

On Tom's last trip over to the fort he had learned that our old Company K, First Cavalry, together with the other three companies from Fort Wise, under command of Captain Elmer Otis, had passed by Fort Larned a few days before, _en route_ to Fort Leavenworth and the war.

We were all sorry that we had not learned of the passing of our old command in time for one of our party, at least, to meet them at Fort Larned and exchange gossip with them; and Jack was regretting that he had not re-enlisted, instead of going wolf hunting, so that he could now be going to the front with them. He feared that the fighting would be all over and the war brought to a close before he got a chance at it.

"Don't you fret about this war coming to a close before you can get a whack at them rebels," said Tom. "It's just a-getting under good headway now, an' there'll be lots of good fighting yet for you and me; and more'n likely, if we live through it, we'll be longing for peace long before peace comes again."

Our tent was fast becoming filled with bales of wolfskins, and one day I asked:

"Tom, what are we going to do for some place to store our wolfskins? Our tent is nearly full, and we are still taking them, and the season isn't half through."

"I've been thinking about that, too," replied the old man, "and I guess I'll make another trip over to the fort to-morrow to get them buffalo calfskins for my overcoat, an' while I'm over there I'll try to get the use of an empty room there among the old dobes where we can store 'em; an' we can take a wagon-load over from time to time as the tent gets too full."

Next day he went to the fort, returning on the following evening, with a lot of Indian-dressed buffalo calfskins for his overcoat, and reported that he had engaged an unused room of Weisselbaum wherein to store our baled skins.

Tom soon had a very serviceable overcoat made from the calfskins--far better than the coyote coats Jack and I had made us--lining it with a red blanket and covering the collar and cuffs with muskrat skins, which have a beautiful fur, somewhat similar to the beaver in color but not so heavy.

As yet we had had but one light fall of snow--nothing like a storm--and it had soon passed off, the weather continuing fair but quite cold of nights and mornings.

One day, as we were about to sit down to dinner, my attention was arrested by a whoop or two that had a familiar sound, and, on looking out on the trail toward the fort, I saw a mounted man coming at a gallop. Found, too, seemed to think he had heard that whoop before, for he ran up onto the dirt roof of our dugout, looked and listened a moment at the approaching horseman, and when the shout was repeated he hesitated no longer but with a wild yelp of recognition dashed away to meet the newcomer.

I had just time to call to my comrades in the dugout: "See here, men, I believe it's Wild Bill," when, as they came rushing out, I noticed the mounted man halt suddenly and roll off his horse as the dog met him, and in a moment more Found and his master were rolling over the ground hugging each other in mad delight, while Bill's horse stood looking on in apparent astonishment at their wild antics.

As Bill came walking up to camp, leading his horse, with Found prancing and yelping about him, I thought I had never seen a dog so nearly crazy with delight. No doubt, Found had often thought of his absent master and had wondered what had become of him and whether he would ever see him again; and now they were reunited, and both seemed overjoyed at the meeting.

After hearty greetings and handshakes all around the scout tied his horse to a wheel of the wagon while we all retired to the dugout, where our dinners were in danger of getting cold, and were soon seated around the mess box, eating and talking, for we all had a great deal to say to Bill, and he to us. Found had huddled down beside his master and was not neglected.

"I hope you've come to stay several days with us, Bill," said Tom.

"No, boys," replied the scout; "I'll stay with you to-night, but I've got to get back to the fort to-morrow. You see, the regulars are going away before long, and the troops that's coming to take their places are volunteers and, of course, green as grass about frontier service and managing Injuns; an' so me an' French Dave an' a few other ol' hands have got to get out an' scout around and find out where the Injuns are at an' try to find out how they're feelin' toward the whites, an' so forth. That's what I was sent out here ahead of the volunteers for. But when I get back to the fort I'll be close enough to come over an' take a square meal with you every now and then."

Leaving Bill and Tom to talk while the old man cleared up the dishes, Jack and I went out to attend to the stock; and the Irishman suggested that while I took our two broncos out of the stable and staked them on the lee side of the haystack he would unsaddle the scout's horse and put him in the stable. When Bill came out and found what he had done he remonstrated.

"Now, boys, I don't want you to go to any trouble on my account, for I'm used to taking things as they come, an' my horse is, too. I'm afraid it'll be hard on your broncos to turn 'em out in the cold."

"Not a bit of it," replied Jack. "The weather's not bad now, an' they're tough, anyway. You see, we don't have the honor of entertainin' the Honorable William Hickock, Esq., every day, an' we want to treat him so well that he'll come again."

"Well, I'll sure do it," replied the scout; then taking a look at our camp and surrounding grounds, he added: "Boys, you've certainly picked out an' built a good camp an' planned everything handy for your winter's work. I think I can see ol' Tom's handiwork all through this layout."

"You're right," said Jack; "if it wasn't for ol' Tom's brains I don't know what we'd do."

Going into the stable again, Jack brought out Black Prince to show him to Bill.

"This is the horse that we captured from them jayhawkers back t'other side of Council Grove," he said as he led the black out for the scout's inspection.

"He's a fine-lookin' fellow, Jack. Is he any good?"

"You bet. One of the best horses for all-'round service I ever saw," replied the enthusiastic Irishman.

We had a great time that afternoon relating to Bill all the happenings since we parted with him in Leavenworth, and after supper we still had plenty to talk about by candle-light.

"Boys, you seem to have taken good care of Found," said Bill, stroking the dog's head again for the thousandth time, "judging by his looks and the contented way he's stuck to you. Has he been any account to you?"

"That he has," replied Jack. "He's one of the best and smartest dogs I ever saw. I don't know how we'd get along without him."

"Well, I guess he may as well make his home with you as long as you stay here, for I'll be away from the post pretty often, an' I wouldn't like to leave him there to run with everybody; but if you've no objections I'll take him over to Larned with me to-morrow, just to give him a little exercise an' let him renew old acquaintance with the soldiers an' officers, for they all know him; an' I'll be coming by this way in a day or so again--for I expect I'll have to take a trip over to the Smoky Hill to locate the Kiowas--an' then I'll leave him with you again."

"All right, Bill, he's your dog," replied Jack, "but he's mighty welcome here an' he's a lot of help to us minding camp."

"No doubt of it, for he's got more sense than some people have. I can talk to him an' tell him to do things, an' he seems to understand 'most everything I say to him an' will do just what I tell him to."

"Bill," I asked, "do the officers at the garrison seem to think there's any danger of the Indians going on the war-path?"

"Well, no, I don't think they really expect any outbreak," replied the scout, "but Injuns, you know, are the most uncertain varmints on earth; an' on account of taking away the regulars an' putting green volunteers to garrisoning the posts on the plains, it's more'n likely that the Injuns'll soon discover the difference an' take advantage of the chance to raise a ruction. I've got to look up the Kiowas first, 'cause they're the most likely ones to make trouble; an' when I find their winter camp I'll stay with 'em a few days, to kinder feel of 'em an' see what sort of a humor they're in, an' then I'll hunt up the Cheyennes an' Arapahoes next an' feel of their pulses, too. An' while I'm a-doing that job French Dave an' the other fellows'll be looking up the Comanches an' Prairie Apaches--they generally range between the Cimarron an' Red River, an' ain't likely to come up this way before grass comes, anyway, but the Kiowas an' Cheyennes'll need watchin'."

"Well, when you get back you must call around here and let us know what you think of the prospect for peace or war--that is, if you find out anything," I said.

"How many of you will go on this trip?" asked Tom.

"Only two--me an' John Adkins. You see, Frenchy is to take a man with him an' round up the country south of the Arkansas, along the Cimarron an' the Canadians, an' I'll take Adkins with me an' scout the country north till we find the camps."

Next morning, after breakfast, Wild Bill, followed by Found, took the trail back to Fort Larned. Jack and I made our usual round of the baits in the forenoon, skinned the dead wolves that we found lying about them, brought in the skins and pegged them down to dry.

In the afternoon we started out afoot to kill some fresh meat for our mess, the Irishman going up the creek in search of antelope or deer while I walked down to the slough to see if there were any water-fowl there to be picked up. I killed a sand-hill crane and returned to camp. Jack had done better than I, having killed a large deer and come back and taken Prince out to carry the meat in. Tom had outdone us both, having killed four antelope without leaving camp.

"How in the world did you do it, Tom?" I asked as I come to where he was busy skinning and dressing four dead antelope that he had strung up.

"Well, sir, I'll tell you how it was," replied he with a gratified smile, still plying his butcher-knife. "Soon after you men left camp a bunch of antelope come playing 'round on the prairie out yonder, up the ravine a piece, but, as they wouldn't come quite close enough to suit me, I got out a red blanket, tied it to a little pole, an' crept along up the ravine till I got about opposite to 'em, an' then raised the red blanket above the bank an' planted the pole.

"Soon as they sighted the strange red thing they raised their heads an' stared at it a bit, an' then come up toward it, all in a bunch, an' stopped an' took another look. Then they seemed to get frightened an' turned an' run away, but I knew they'd come back. They circled 'round an' come up again an' halted for another look, an' then run away again an' circled 'round an' come back, an' each time they came a little closer.

"I noticed that when they'd halt to gaze at the blanket they'd line up four or five abreast; so the idea struck me that if I could get back into another little ravine that was close by, an' crawl up that a little ways, so as to take 'em in flank when they'd line up thataway, I'd get two or three of 'em. I did that, an' the next time they halted an' lined up there were four of 'em in range, with their sides to me, an' I turned loose an' killed three of 'em an' wounded the fourth so that I got him next shot."

"You did a good job, and did it well, too," I replied. Just then Jack came up with his load of deer meat. "Why, Jack," I began, "how in the world did you happen to kill a buck? I didn't think you were hunter enough to stalk a deer."

"You don't appear to know me, young fellow," he returned with a swaggering air. "It's a mighty hunter I'm getting to be, as well as a famous trapper."

"But tell us all about how you got that buck; I know there's something to explain about it," I replied.

"Well, now," laying aside his assumed braggadocio and becoming the candid Irishman again, "to tell you the honest God's truth, I just blundered onto him. It was this way: I was a-sneaking along through the timber when all of a suddent I sees this laddybuck a-standing broadside to me, only about twenty steps away, an' he hadn't seen nor heard me, for I was behind a big tree. I was that nervous I didn't think I could have hit the side of a barn, so I rested my carbine against the side of the tree, took as good aim as I could about where I thought his heart ought to be--right behind the fore shoulder--an' let him have it; an' I'm blest if I didn't fetch him, first pop. He gave one big bound into the air an' fell dead; an' just then two does, that had been laying down behind some bushes, jumped an' run an' were out of sight in a jiffy, before I could shove another cartridge into me carbine. But I didn't want any more deer meat just then, so I came back to camp to get the horse to fetch the meat in."

"But, Tom," I asked, "what are we going to do with so much venison?"

"Oh, it'll keep, all right; but then I'll be going over to the fort again in a day or so, an' I guess I'd as well take two or three of the carcasses over there an' sell 'em to the officers' mess."