CHAPTER XXV

WE PART FROM FRIENDS

The captain's party returned from To hausen's village about sunset. He said that he had had an amicable and satisfactory talk with the old chief and his followers, all of whom reiterated their former professions of friendship for the whites and declared that they would have no intercourse with the hostiles.

"We've got to take that," said Wild Bill, who had been interpreter at the talk, "with a grain of salt, for while I was there I found out, by pumping some of their youngsters and women, that they were pretty well posted about the whole affair up to the time that Lieutenant Wilson put in an appearance and stampeded them this morning, which goes to show that a few of To hausen's bucks were with Satank up to that time; and in the stampede these fellows must have skedaddled back to To hausen's camp and told about the fight as far as they had been in it. But they didn't seem to know about our part of the fight up the creek nor about old Broken Nose and this other Indian getting their medicine here. I told them about that part of it. And, to make it appear like old Nosey had gotten just what was coming to him, I told them that the man who got away with him was the same one that old Nosey had tried to burn up when he set fire to the grass out in the bottom that day."

"Good for you, Bill!" exclaimed Jack. "I don't want to rob Peck of the credit, but it's better to let his people think that I evened up with the old rascal at last."

After supper, as night settled down, the cold wind reminded us of another difficulty that few of us had yet thought of. What were we to do for bedding for the soldiers who had come away from the garrison in a hurry without any thought of being out overnight?

About tattoo the rattling of a wagon was heard out on the trail toward Fort Larned. It seemed impossible that Tom could be coming back from the fort so soon with our mule team, but a wagon was approaching from that direction.

We were all out upon the bank looking and listening and speculating as to who the coming parties could be when we heard the sentry on that side of the grounds challenge: "Halt! Who comes there?" And then, apparently assuming the right to pass upon the credentials of the newcomers without the regulation formality of calling for the sergeant of the guard, the sentry admitted two mounted men, who came cantering up to the camp-fire.

The arrivals were two troopers who reported that a little way behind them two six-mule teams were coming, escorted by a dozen cavalrymen under charge of a sergeant. They had been sent out by the commanding officer, at Tom's suggestion, as quickly as they could be hitched up after our team with the wounded men had arrived at the fort.

In a few minutes the teams and escort came up, admitted by the sentry. We soon learned the results of Tom's trip. The badly wounded soldier, Dolan, had died shortly after Tom's arrival at the post. On reaching the fort Tom drove immediately to the adjutant's office and reported to the commanding officer the result of the fight and the condition of the wounded, and then hurried on to the hospital, followed by the major and several other officers and soldiers, all eager to learn all the particulars.

By this time Tom's wounded leg had made him so lame that he realized the impossibility of his returning to our camp with the supplies; and our mule team, also, was not in condition to return immediately, so he suggested to the major that a couple of six-mule teams be quickly hitched up and started under escort for the camp with rations and feed for Saunders' men and horses; and he very thoughtfully, also, advised sending the blankets of Saunders' troopers, all of which was promptly ordered.

One team would have been ample to have taken the supplies to Saunders, but Tom calculated that by sending two the second team, in the absence of our own, could be used, in returning next day, to move our plunder into the post.

Captain Saunders could not say enough in praise of the old man's forethought and unselfishness. "He is certainly a valuable man among soldiers," he said, "for he always seems to know what to do and how to do it."

"Cap," interjected Wild Bill, "you will please bear in mind that I suggested that Tom was the man to send on that trip."

"So you did," admitted Saunders, "and you certainly knew your man."

I had assigned the use of our tent to Captain Saunders' guard detail; and by stuffing a bale of skins into the mouth of the tunnel under the tripod, to stop the draught, and carrying the other bales outside, they made for themselves very comfortable quarters.

The other men made their beds on the open prairie, outside the tent, with their saddles for pillows; and most of them turned in early, to get out of the cold night wind and from weariness, while a few still sat around the camp-fire talking over the events of the day.

The officers and Wild Bill prepared to sleep with us in the cabin, and after we had spread down our beds I spoke to Bill about the events of the morning and the loss of his horse.

"Yes," said he, "there ain't but one horse in the country that's as good as my Charlie, and maybe a little better in some ways, and that's your Black Prince; and I'm going to try to coax you boys to sell me that horse because I've fell in love with him and I need him bad in my business."

"Why, Bill," said Jack, laughing heartily at the scout's guilelessness, "you ain't no sort of a horse trader. When you want to buy a man's horse you should run him down and make him out no account instead of bragging on him."

"If I was dealing with horse-jockeys I might do that way," returned Bill, "but when I'm a-dealing with honest men who I know won't take any advantage of me I like to deal on the square with them; and I tell you, honest Injun, that Black Prince is about the best horse I ever threw a leg over. I've heard that you boys have refused an offer of two hundred and fifty dollars from some of the officers at the fort. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll give you three hundred for him; and if that ain't enough I'll give you more. I ain't got the money with me, but when we get over to the fort I can get it from Weisselbaum. Now, what do you say to that?"

It was amusing to listen to the unsophisticated proposition of this free-hearted, unselfish fellow. He did not take into consideration that he had just rendered each of us a service of far greater value than several such horses. He did not consider that we were in any way indebted to him on account of his horse being killed in our service. No; that was merely one of the misfortunes of war.

But Tom, Jack, and I, although we had not said a word to each other about it, had each mentally decided that we ought to present the black horse to Wild Bill to make good his loss and to show our appreciation of his manly response and priceless service in our hour of need.

In reply to his question, "What do you say?" and an expressive look from Jack, I said:

"Not having consulted my partners about the matter, Bill, of course I can't speak for them, but I think it's a safe guess that you'll get the horse; and there is plenty of time in the future to settle on the price."

"Well, now, that's the way I like to hear you talk," said he with a gratified smile. "When we get over to the fort, you and Jack can talk it over with Tom and let me know the price you agree on, and I'll dig up the money."

The night passed quietly. As Bill had said, the hostiles had been too badly whipped to think of returning to attack us. After breakfast next morning the horses were saddled and the wagons packed; and marching out on the Fort Larned trail, the company moved first in "column of fours," followed by the two six-mule teams, and then came the "cavvy-yard," driven by the men of the guard acting as "rear-guard." Bill, Jack, and I rode at the head of the column with the company officers.

As we reached the crest of the grade coming onto the upland, about two miles from our recent camp, with the officers we turned out on the side of the trail as the command marched by, to take a parting look at Camp Coyotelope; and we noticed what appeared to be a number of Indians--some mounted and some afoot--moving about in the vicinity of the dugouts.

"Some of To hausen's people," suggested Bill, "looking after the bodies of old Nosey and his pard and gathering up the leavings about the old camp. They'll take them two dead bucks back to their camp and bury them."

I had dismounted and taken out our field-glass to get a better view of the Indians and verified the scout's surmise, for I could plainly see a group gathered about the body of each of the two dead Indians, apparently lifting them onto their ponies.

"There, Peck," said Bill, noticing the field-glass I held, "is another thing I'd like to buy or trade you out of, for I got mine broke yesterday morning when my horse fell with me; and I need glasses, and you're going back to Leavenworth where you can easy get another pair." As he took the glass to examine it, he asked: "How much is it worth?"

"It cost us twenty dollars in Leavenworth," I replied. "They are handy things to have on the plains, but we won't need it much going back to the settlements. I'll speak to Tom about it and I guess we'll let you have it when we get ready to start on the home-stretch from Fort Larned."

"Well, it ought to be worth more out here than it cost you in Leavenworth and I'll pay you whatever you think it's worth. Of course, I ain't got the money now, for it's going to take all I can borrow, I reckon, to pay you for this horse; but if you'll trust me till I come in to Leavenworth, I'll pay you then--that is I'm supposing that you fellows will hang up in Leavenworth for a while--anyway, till you blow in your money."

"Well, as to Tom and me," remarked Jack, "I believe each of us has planned to take a trip East when we get in, but I think it'll be a safe wager that you'll find Peck about Leavenworth, for there's a curly-headed girl there that he talks about in his sleep."

"Well, that do settle it," said Bill with a chuckle and a wink at Jack.

As we passed over the recent battle-field, we rode around and looked at the bodies of all the dead Kiowas, hoping though hardly expecting to find Satank, but were disappointed--the murderous old fiend had escaped again. These bodies were all considerably torn by the wolves, but their features were still in good enough condition to have enabled us to identify him had he been among the fallen. An inscrutable Providence permitted this bloodthirsty demon to roam the plains for several years longer.

As we neared the post, several officers and soldiers came out to meet us, anxious to hear all about the fight. The cavvy-yard of captured ponies, with their Indian saddles and bridles, together with other trophies of the fight carried by Saunders' men, attracted much attention. Saunders' men seemed much elated over the fact that this, their first engagement with the Indians, had been so successfully planned and executed.

As the captain with his company turned off to their stable, Bill, Jack, and I, accompanied by the six-mule team carrying our plunder, moved on through the garrison and established our camp about a half mile below, in a snug bend of Pawnee Fork.

After unloading our stuff from the wagon, we sent the team back to the garrison and then set about pitching our tent and making ourselves comfortable, for we expected to have to remain here several days, partly on Tom's account and partly to wait for Kitchen's train, which was coming in from New Mexico, by which we expected to ship our wolfskins to Leavenworth, provided we did not sell them here.

After getting everything in shape, leaving Jack to mind camp and cook dinner, Bill and I returned to the post to call on Tom at the hospital, to release Found, who was still locked in Bill's room, and to bring our mule team back to camp.

We found the old man still badly crippled from the wound in his thigh, but the doctor thought he would be able to travel in a few days.

The faithful dog was glad to see us and to be released. He was quite hungry, for he had had nothing to eat since the feed I gave him in the dugout before starting him with the message to Bill.

As I was hitching up our mule team at Saunders' company stable, the captain came by and insisted on my going with him to the commissary and loading in some rations and feed which he had procured a requisition for, to replace the supplies that his men and horses had consumed at Camp Coyotelope.

The work of settling up our business affairs and getting everything ready for the return trip now devolved upon me, though I had the benefit of consultation with Tom on all matters of importance.

As already stated, our winter's catch of wolfskins numbered something over three thousand. These were all dried and baled in one of Weisselbaum's warerooms. About one fourth of these pelts were of the large gray wolves, or "lobos," as the Mexicans call them, which, at that time, were rated on the plains at one dollar and twenty-five cents each. The other three fourths were coyotes, worth seventy-five cents each. Besides these, there were several bales of the skins of the little yellow fox, worth twenty-five cents each. At these figures, the entire lot should bring us something over twenty-six hundred dollars. On Tom's advice I offered the whole to Weisselbaum for twenty-five hundred, but he seemed to think he could get them for less and held off.

One day when negotiations had reached this stage, Kitchen's mule train rolled in and camped near us. This brought business to a focus with Weisselbaum and he immediately hurried down to our camp, accepted my offer, and wrote me out a check on Clark & Gruber[E] (M. E. Clark & E. H. Gruber), bankers of Leavenworth city, for twenty-five hundred dollars. In addition to this, I drew from his safe the three hundred and fifty dollars that we had deposited with him.

It is a well-known fact that in the dry, pure atmosphere of the plains, flesh wounds heal with astonishing rapidity. It may have been, in Tom's case, that the satisfactory closing up of our business affairs had something to do with it, but about this time Jack and I were astonished as well as pleased to see Tom come limping into camp and report for duty.

Bill had sent word by Tom that he, Captain Saunders, and Lieutenant Wilson were coming down to take supper with us, and just after retreat all three rode into camp accompanied by Found.

"Now, boys," said Bill as he dismounted and tied Black Prince to the wagon, "you haven't told me yet how much you're going to tax me for this horse, and if you'll let me know I'll go right up to Weisselbaum's and get the greenbacks for you, for he said he'd let me have them."

"We've talked the matter over, Bill," said Tom, speaking for our party, "an' have concluded that, seeing as how you lost your best horse in our service, and in consideration of the good service you've done us all the way along, an' old-time friendship and so forth, that it'll be no more'n right for us to make you a present of Black Prince, subject only to the condition that if the rightful owner of the horse ever turns up and claims him you'll then have to make terms with him; but that's a very remote possibility."

"Do you mean it, Tom? Is that so, boys?" asked the scout in confused astonishment at such good luck as he looked around from one to another of us. "Am I to have that fine horse without paying you a dollar?"

"That's what! That's the job we've put up on you," we replied.

"Well, now, boys--" stammered Bill in a diffident sort of way as he seemed to be trying to study up a nice little speech of thanks.

"Aw, give us a rest!" interrupted old Tom in his rough and good-humored effort to help Bill out of his embarrassment. "The horse is yours, and I don't want to hear anything more out of you about it."

Knowing that Bill was an expert shot with rifle or pistol, it had occurred to me, since he had expressed a desire to buy our field-glass, to exact of him a sample of his marksmanship as his signature to a promissory note for the price of the glass; and accordingly I had selected the ace of diamonds from our old, much-soiled deck of cards and had written across the face of it:

"But, Bill," I put in after Tom had cut him off short about the horse, "I ain't going to let you off so cheap on that field-glass deal. You'll have to give me your note for the twenty dollars."

"Well, I guess I can borrow that much from Cap Saunders or Mr. Wilson, here, and pay you the cash," he replied.

"No, I don't want the money--I want your note written on this card, signed by a bullet shot by you through the centre of the ace at ten paces."

Saying which, I produced the card I had prepared and read the inscription to him.

"Now, I'll tack the card up on this tree here," I continued, "and you are to stand with your back against the card, pistol in hand, step off ten paces, 'bout face, and fire a bullet through the ace. And if you don't knock the centre out it's no go--I'll have to write another note on another ace and you'll have to try it again."

"Huh! that's easy," said Bill with a grin of confidence. "You won't have to waste any more of your cards."

I knew he could do it, even at twenty paces, for I had seen him perform such feats before. With the utmost indifference, he backed up to the card on the tree, stepped off ten paces--good, long-legged measure--made a graceful "officer's about face," instantly firing, without apparently taking aim, as he came around facing the card; and we could all see the hole in the centre of the bright-red ace.

"By George, that's good shooting!" exclaimed Saunders in unfeigned astonishment. "Can you do it again, Bill, or was that just an accident?"

"I'll put another ball in the same hole for you," replied the scout carelessly as he threw up his pistol and fired.

Saunders' and Wilson's incredulity prompted them to step up to the tree and examine the card closely.

"Guess you must have missed the whole tree that time, Bill," said the captain after scrutinizing the card and tree carefully. "The hole isn't made any larger that I can see and I can't find any other hole in the tree."

"Of course not. I didn't want to spoil the card; but the second bullet is in there, right on top of the first one, and I'll bet a horse on it. Now, stand out of the way till I show you another trick. I'm going to take off the right-hand point of the diamond this time."

And at the crack of his pistol the right point disappeared--the last hole just cutting into the edge of the first one.

"Now, look out for the left-hand point."

And the left point was gone--all the red being obliterated but a little streak above and below the first hole.

"There, Peck," he remarked regretfully as he began reloading his pistol, "I had to pretty nigh spoil the card to show these fellows I wasn't a-faking."

"Don't that beat the devil?" remarked Wilson, looking from the target to Bill and from Bill to the target in undisguised astonishment.

"Well, I've heard of such phenomenal shooting," said Saunders, "but never saw the like before and wouldn't have believed it possible if I hadn't seen it. Ain't there some trick about it, Bill?"

"Not as I know of--nothing but what you've seen. Now, if you think that second shot missed the tree, Cap," remarked the scout as he took down the card and passed it around for inspection, "take that axe, there, and chop 'em all out, and if you don't find four navy balls in there I'll eat the chips."

Lieutenant Wilson seized the axe and soon cut out the four battered but distinct bullets.

"I'd give a good deal if I could shoot like that. How do you do it, Bill?" asked the captain.

"Dunno how I do it," replied the scout. "I always could put my bullets about where I wanted to and can't tell how I do it, either. I don't try very hard, but just throw her up and turn loose without taking any particular aim, and somehow the ball goes right where I look. Of course, I keep in good practice, and that helps some, I suppose."

"Practice won't explain it, captain," said old Tom. "It's a gift--a natural talent that some men find themselves possessed of. The same as some men have the natural gift of writing a beautiful hand, and do it with all ease, while others, with ever so much practice, can only acquire moderate skill. Now, Peck, Jack, or me, by constant practice, can do fairly well with a pistol or rifle; but we can't hold a candle to Bill. The best we could probably do, on an average, at fifteen to twenty paces, would be to put three to four bullets out of six in a playing-card, which would be good shooting at a man, but Bill can put every ball just where he wants 'em to go. I've seen him shoot at a five-spot and put a ball in each spot just as somebody would call them off to him, like this, 'Centre! upper right! upper left! lower right! lower left!' putting the balls through the centre of each spot as accurately as you could punch them with a nail and hammer. And he can do nearly as well, too, mounted and on the run. But, come, men, supper's getting cold."

After supper, although his recently wounded arm was still somewhat sore, Jack got out his fiddle and played several tunes, and we all joined in singing songs.

In course of conversation I had asked Captain Saunders what had become of my former patron, Lieutenant Lang, not having seen him about the garrison recently.

"Oh, Lang's out and gone--resigned by special request. Went in on the last Santa Fé mail-coach," replied the captain. "Although you straightened up his company papers and saved him--or his rich daddy, rather--from having to pay Uncle Sam a lot of money to square up his accounts, still it was evident in many ways that he was totally incompetent to manage a company, and he was given a hint from headquarters that his resignation would be acceptable."

Tom, Jack, and I had previously discussed the propriety of our making a present of some kind to the two officers, in testimony of our appreciation of their extremely prompt and timely response in the hour of our extremity, and, as we had nothing else available or appropriate, we had decided to abandon the plan of each having made a fine fur overcoat out of some of our beaver and otter skins and to give to each officer enough of the furs for that purpose.

At late bedtime, when the officers and Bill were getting ready to start back to the garrison, Tom brought out and gave to Saunders and Wilson each a package of beaver skins, telling them of the overcoats we had intended to make of them and suggesting that they use them for the same purpose. We also gave each officer a couple of choice buffalo robes.

"Now, men," said Saunders deprecatingly, "don't rob yourselves of these furs to reward us for doing our simple duty. We don't expect anything of the kind, are not entitled to any reward, and I don't think we ought to accept them, and----"

"But, Saunders," interrupted Lieutenant Wilson, "when you come to think of the princely overcoats these beaver furs will make, it seems to me there would be no harm in accepting them--not as pay for doing our duty but just as tokens of friendship and good-will from these men."

"Now you're getting it through you," said Tom approvingly. "That's the idea--just a friendly gift." And before Saunders could enter another remonstrance he added, as he gathered up an armful of the robes and skins: "Come, Jack, bring the rest and we'll tie them on their horses for them."

As the three men mounted we bade them a cordial good-by and expressed a hope to soon meet them again in Leavenworth. We each gave Found an affectionate farewell hug, for we sincerely regretted parting with him.

"You'd best keep Found tied up for a few days, Bill," suggested Jack as they started off, "lest he should scent our trail and follow us. And always take good care of him, for he's got more genuine nobility in him than lots of the so-called men I've met with."

"You bet Found'll never want for good treatment while I'm around," answered Bill; and then, "Ta, ta, fellows, I'll see you in Leavenworth before long," he called back as they rode away into the darkness.

During this day Mr. Kitchen, the proprietor of the neighboring train, had visited our camp and, after inspecting our wagon, team, and camp outfit closely, had asked if it would be for sale when we got through to Leavenworth.

I answered: "Yes."

"What will you take for it delivered to me there in as good condition as it is now?" he asked, adding: "I shall be close on your heels going in."

After conferring with my partners we agreed to deliver the outfit in good shape at Jim Brown's livery stable, Fourth and Shawnee Streets, Leavenworth, for five hundred dollars. Kitchen readily agreed to take it and paid us a hundred dollars down to clinch the bargain.