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diff --git a/old/64231-0.txt b/old/64231-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 99f5720..0000000 --- a/old/64231-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10017 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Buffalo Bill and the Overland Trail, by -Edwin L. Sabin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Buffalo Bill and the Overland Trail - Being the Story of how Boy and Man Worked Hard and Played Hard - to Blaze the White Trail, by Wagon Train, Stage Coach, and Pony E - -Author: Edwin L. Sabin - -Illustrator: Charles H. Stephens - -Release Date: January 07, 2021 [eBook #64231] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Donald Cummings, from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND -TRAIL *** - - - - - BUFFALO BILL AND THE - OVERLAND TRAIL - - - - -_The American Trail Blazers_ - -“THE STORY GRIPS AND THE HISTORY STICKS” - -These books present in the form of vivid and fascinating fiction, the -early and adventurous phases of American history. Each volume deals -with the life and adventures of one of the great men who made that -history, or with some one great event in which, perhaps, several heroic -characters were involved. The stories, though based upon accurate -historical fact, are rich in color, full of dramatic action, and appeal -to the imagination of the red-blooded man or boy. - -Each volume illustrated in color and black and white. - - INTO MEXICO WITH GENERAL SCOTT - - LOST WITH LIEUTENANT PIKE - - GENERAL CROOK AND THE FIGHTING APACHES - - OPENING THE WEST WITH LEWIS AND CLARK - - WITH CARSON AND FRÉMONT - - DANIEL BOONE: BACKWOODSMAN - - BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL - - CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH - - DAVID CROCKETT: SCOUT - - ON THE PLAINS WITH CUSTER - - GOLD SEEKERS OF ’49 - - WITH SAM HOUSTON IN TEXAS - - WITH GEORGE WASHINGTON INTO THE WILDERNESS - - IN THE RANKS OF OLD HICKORY - - - - -[Illustration: AS LAME BUFFALO HAD SAID, THE “LITTLE ONE” SHOT THE -STRAIGHTEST OF ANY] - - - - - BUFFALO BILL - AND THE - OVERLAND TRAIL - - BEING THE STORY OF HOW BOY AND MAN WORKED HARD - AND PLAYED HARD TO BLAZE THE WHITE TRAIL, BY - WAGON TRAIN, STAGE COACH AND PONY EXPRESS, ACROSS - THE GREAT PLAINS AND THE MOUNTAINS BEYOND, THAT - THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC MIGHT EXPAND AND FLOURISH - - - BY - EDWIN L. SABIN - - AUTHOR OF “WITH CARSON AND FRÉMONT,” - “ON THE PLAINS WITH CUSTER,” ETC. - - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_ - CHARLES H. STEPHENS - _AND A PORTRAIT_ - - - I hear the tread of pioneers - Of nations yet to be―― - The first low wash of waves where soon - Shall roll a human sea. - ――WHITTIER. - - - [Illustration] - - - PHILADELPHIA & LONDON - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - SEVENTEENTH IMPRESSION - - - PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - - TO THE - - OLD-TIME PLAINS FREIGHTERS - - WHO UNDER THE ROUGH TITLE, “BULL WHACKERS,” PLODDING AT THREE - MILES AN HOUR, BRIDGED WITH THEIR CANVAS-COVERED SUPPLY WAGONS - THE THOUSAND HOSTILE MILES WHICH SEPARATED DESTITUTION FROM - PLENTY - - - - -FOREWORD - - -History is the record made by men and women; so the story of the -western plains is the story of Buffalo Bill and of those other hard -workers who with their deeds and even with their lives bought the great -country for the use of us to-day. - -The half of what Buffalo Bill did, in the days of the Overland Trail, -has never been told, and of course cannot be told in one short book. -He began very young, before the days of the Overland Stage; and he was -needed long after the railroad had followed the stage. The days when -the Great Plains were being opened to civilized people required brave -men and boys――yes, and brave women and girls, too. There was glory -enough for all. Everything related in this book happened to Buffalo -Bill, or to those persons who shared in his dangers and his deeds. And -while he may not remember the other boy, Dave Scott, whom he inspired -to be brave also, he will be glad to know that he helped Davy to be a -man. - -That is one great reward in life: to inspire and encourage others. - - EDWIN L. SABIN - SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, June 1, 1914 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. TALL BULL SIGNALS: “ENEMIES!” 17 - II. THE HERO OF THE MULE FORT 30 - III. WITH THE WAGON TRAIN 42 - IV. VISITING BILLY CODY 58 - V. DAVY GOES ON HERD 71 - VI. DAVY HAS AN ADVENTURE 83 - VII. DAVY CHANGES JOBS 100 - VIII. THE GOLD FEVER 114 - IX. THE HEE-HAW EXPRESS 127 - X. “PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST” 140 - XI. SOME HALTS BY THE WAY 157 - XII. PERILS FOR THE HEE-HAWS 171 - XIII. THE CHERRY CREEK DIGGIN’S 188 - XIV. DAVY SIGNS AS “EXTRA” 204 - XV. FREIGHTING ACROSS THE PLAINS 218 - XVI. YANK RAISES TROUBLE 231 - XVII. DAVY “THE BULL WHACKER” 244 - XVIII. BILLY CODY TURNS UP AGAIN 257 - XIX. DAVY MAKES ANOTHER CHANGE 267 - XX. FAST TIME TO CALIFORNIA 280 - XXI. “PONY EXPRESS BILL” 293 - XXII. CARRYING THE GREAT NEWS 305 - XXIII. A BRUSH ON THE OVERLAND STAGE 318 - XXIV. BUFFALO BILL IS CHAMPION 336 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - As Lame Buffalo Had Said, the “Little One” Shot the - Straightest of Any _Frontispiece_ - - William Frederick Cody (“Buffalo Bill”) 13 - - “Two; Give Two,” he Urged, Meaningly. “Take Rest” 98 - - “Give It to Them! Split ’em! Split ’em!” 155 - - “Why――Hello, Billy! Is That You?” 261 - - “That’s Right. Fight ’em off, Davy” 334 - - - - -[Illustration: WILLIAM FEDERICK CODY - -“BUFFALO BILL” - -From a photograph taken in 1871, in the possession of Clarence S. -Paine, Esq.] - - - - -CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE - - -WILLIAM FREDERICK CODY - -“BUFFALO BILL” - - Celebrated American plains-day express rider, hunter, guide and - army scout, who before he was fourteen years of age had won - credit for man’s pluck and shrewdness. In his youth a dutiful - and helpful son; in his later years an exhibitor of Wild West - scenes, with which he has toured the world. Early known as - “Will,” “Little Billy,” “Pony Express Bill,” “Scout Bill Cody”; - by the Indians termed “Pa-he-haska” (“Long Hair”); but, the - globe around, famed as “Buffalo Bill.” - -Born on the family farm near LeClaire, Scott County, Eastern Iowa, -February 26, 1845. - -Father: Isaac Cody. Mother: Mary Ann Cody. - -Childhood spent in Scott County, Iowa: at LeClaire and at Walnut Grove. - -When eight years old, in 1853, is removed with the family overland to -Kansas. - -In the Salt Creek Valley, near the Kickapoo Indian reservation and Fort -Leavenworth, Eastern Kansas, Mr. Cody takes up a claim and is Indian -trader. - -Young William is reared among the Free State troubles of 1853–1861, -when the slave men and the anti-slave men strove against one another -to obtain possession of Kansas. Mr. Cody, the father, was of the Free -State party. - -Aged 10, summer of 1855, Billy engages at $25 a month to herd cattle, -just outside of Leavenworth, for the freighting firm of Russell & -Majors. Gives the money, $50, to his mother. - -Is instructed at home by Miss Jennie Lyons, the family teacher; attends -district school. - -Aged 11, summer of 1856, makes his first trip into the plains, as -herder for a Russell, Majors & Waddell bull train. - -Continues his cattle herding; and aged 12, in May, 1857, makes another -trip across the plains, as herder for the cattle with a Russell, Majors -& Waddell outfit bound for Salt Lake, Utah. Has his first Indian fight. - -The same summer of 1857, is “extra man” with another Russell, Majors & -Waddell wagon train for Utah. Returning, has his second Indian fight. - -Arrives home again, summer of 1858. Becomes assistant wagon master with -a fourth train, for Fort Laramie. - -Fall of 1858, aged 13, joins a company of trappers out of Fort Laramie. - -Winter and spring of 1859, attends school again, to please his mother. - -To the Pike’s Peak country for gold, 1859. - -Returns home to see his mother; and then spends winter of 1859–1860 -trapping beaver in central Kansas. - -Rides Pony Express, 1860–1861. The youngest rider on the line. - -Ranger, dispatch bearer, and scout in the Union service, in Kansas, -Missouri and the Southwest, 1861–1863. - -Enlisted in Seventh Kansas Volunteer Infantry, 1864, and serves with it -until close of the war. - -Stage driver between Kearney, Nebraska, and Plum Creek, 35 miles west, -1865–1866. - -Marries, March 6, 1866, Miss Louisa Frederici of St. Louis. - -Proprietor of Golden Rule House hotel at his old home in Salt Creek -Valley, Kansas, 1866. - -Government scout at Fort Ellsworth, Fort Fletcher, and Fort Hays, -Kansas, 1866–1867. - -With William Rose, a construction contractor, promotes the town-site of -Rome, near Fort Hays, 1867. Rome is eclipsed by Hayes City, its rival. - -Earns title “Buffalo Bill” by supplying the work gang of the Kansas -Pacific Railroad with buffalo, 1867–1868. In 18 months kills 4,280 -buffalo. - -Becomes Government scout with headquarters at Fort Larned, 1868. -Performs some remarkable endurance rides between the posts on the -Arkansas and those on the Kansas Pacific line. Once covers 355 miles, -in 58 hours of riding by day and by night. - -Appointed by General Sheridan guide and chief scout for the Fifth -Cavalry, 1868. - -Serves with the Fifth Cavalry on various expeditions, 1868–1872. Also -acts as guide for numerous sportsmen parties. - -Temporary justice of the peace at Fort McPherson, Nebraska, 1871. - -Guide for the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia, on a celebrated hunting tour -in the West, 1872. - -Guide for the Third Cavalry, at Fort McPherson, 1872. Acts as guide for -the Earl of Dunraven, and other distinguished sportsmen. - -Elected on the Democratic ticket to the Nebraska Legislature, 1872. - -Resigns from the Legislature and in the winter of 1872–1873 stars, with -Texas Jack, as an actor in “The Scouts of the Plains,” a melodrama by -Ned Buntline. - -Organizes the “Buffalo Bill Combination,” with Texas Jack and Wild -Bill, and plays melodrama in the Eastern cities, 1873–1874. - -During 1874–1876 continues to be scout, guide and actor, according to -the season. - -Takes the field again in earnest as scout for the Fifth Cavalry, -against the Sioux, spring of 1876. Fights his noted duel with Chief -Yellow Hand. - -In partnership with Major Frank North, of the Pawnee Government Scouts, -establishes a cattle ranch near North Platte, Nebraska, 1877. - -Seasons of 1876–1877–1878 resumes his theatrical tours in Western -melodrama, portraying the late Sioux War and the incidents of the -Mountain Meadow Massacre (1857). - -Takes up residence at North Platte, Nebraska, spring of 1878. Continues -to hunt, ranch, and act; writes his autobiography and his own plays. - -In 1883 organizes his justly celebrated “Wild West” combination, with -which for three years he tours the United States. In 1886 he takes it -to England, and in 1889 to the Continent. - -In 1888 appointed brigadier general of the National Guard of Nebraska. - -In 1890 he again serves as chief scout, under General Nelson A. Miles, -against the Sioux. - -Since then, the “Wild West Show,” known also as the “Congress of Rough -Riders of the World,” has continued its career as a spectacle and an -education. Colonel Cody (still known as “Buffalo Bill”) is ranked as -one of America’s leading characters in public life. He has shown what -a boy can do to win honor and success, even if he starts in as only a -cattle-herder, with little schooling and no money. - - - - -BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND TRAIL - - - - -I - -TALL BULL SIGNALS: “ENEMIES!” - - -Since early dawn forty Indians and one little red-headed white boy had -been riding amidst the yellow gullies and green table-lands of western -Nebraska, about where the North Platte and the South Platte Rivers come -together. The most of these Indians were Cheyennes; the others were a -few Arapahoes and two or three Sioux. The name of the little red-headed -boy was David Scott. - -He was guarded by the two squaws who had been brought along to work -for the thirty-eight men. They worked for the men, little Dave worked -for _them_; and frequently they struck him, and told him that when the -Cheyenne village was reached again he would be burnt. - -In the bright sunshine, amidst the great expanse of open, uninhabited -country, the Indian column, riding with its scouts out, made a gallant -sight. The ponies, bay, dun, black, white, spotted, were adorned with -paint, gay streamers and jingly pendants. The men were bareheaded -and bare bodied; on this warm day of June they had thrown off their -robes and blankets. But what they lacked in clothing, they supplied in -decoration. - -Down the parting of the smoothly-combed black hair was run vermilion; -vermilion and ochre and blue and white and black streaked coppery -forehead, high cheek-bones and firm chin, and lay lavishly over -brawny chest and sinewy arms. At the parting of the braids were stuck -feathers――common feathers for the braves, tipped eagle feathers for -the chiefs. The long braids themselves were wrapped in otter-skin and -red flannel. From ears hung copper and brass and silver pendants. Upon -wrists and upper arms were broad bracelets and armlets of copper. Upon -feet were beaded moccasins worked in tribal designs. The fashion of -the paint and the style of the moccasins it was which said that these -riders were Cheyennes. - -The column had no household baggage and no children (except little -Dave) and no dogs; and it had no women other than just the two. The men -were painted and although they rode bareheaded, from the saddle-horn -of many tossed crested, feathered bonnets with long tails. These were -war-bonnets. All the bows were short, thick bows. These were war-bows. -All the arrows in the full quivers were barbed arrows. Hunting arrows -were smooth. The lances were tufted and showy. The shields, slung to -left arm, were the thick, boastfully painted war shields. The ponies -were picked ponies; war ponies. Yes, anybody with half an eye could -have read that this was a war party, not a hunting party or a village -on the move. - -Davy could have proven it. Wasn’t he here, riding between two mean -squaws? And look at the plunder, from white people――some of it from -his own uncle and aunt, all of it from the “whoa-haw” trains, as the -Indians had named the ox-wagon columns of the emigrants and freighters. - -Ever since, two weeks back, these Cheyennes had so suddenly out-charged -upon his uncle’s wagon and another, strayed from the main column, -they had been looking for more “whoa-haws.” This year, 1858, and the -preceding half dozen years had been fine ones for Indians in search of -plunder. Thousands of white people were crossing the plains, between -the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains; their big canvas-covered -wagons contained curious and valuable things, as well as women and -children. They were drawn by cattle and horses or mules, and behind -followed large bands of other cattle and horses and mules. Sometimes -these “whoa-haw” people fought stoutly, sometimes they had no chance to -fight――as had been the case with little Dave’s uncle. - -Tall Bull was the young chief in charge of the squad that had attacked -the two wagons. Now Tall Bull was one of the scouts riding on the -flanks and ahead of the war party, so as to spy out the country. In -his two weeks with the Cheyennes Dave had learned them well. They -were no fools. They rode cunningly. They were disciplined. While they -kept to the low country their scouts skirted the edges of the higher -country, in order to see far. By wave of blanket or movement of horse -these keen-eyed scouts could signal back for more than a mile, and -every Indian in the column could read the signs. Then the head chief, -Cut Nose, would grunt an order, and his young men would obey. - -The march was threading the bottom of a bushy ravine. Cut Nose, head -chief, led; Bear-Who-Walks and Lame Buffalo, sub-chiefs, rode with -him. Behind filed the long column. In the rear of all trailed the two -squaws, guarding the miserable Davy. - -Suddenly adown the column travelled, in one great writhe, a commotion. -A scout, to the right, ahead, was signalling. He was Tall Bull. His -figure, of painted self and mottled pony, was plainly outlined just -at the juncture of brushy rim and sky. Now he had dismounted, and had -crept forward, half stooped, as if the better to see, the less to -be seen. But back he scurried, more under cover of the ravine edge; -standing he snatched his buffalo robe from about his waist and swung it -with the gesture that meant “Somebody in sight!” - -He sprang to his spotted pony, and down he came, riding in a slow -zigzag and making little circles, too. The slow zigzag meant “No -hurry” and the little circles meant “Not many strangers.” And he signed -with his hand. - -However, large party or small party, the news was very welcome. All the -other scouts sped to see what Tall Bull had seen. From side ravines out -rushed at gallop the little exploring detachments. ’Twas astonishing -how fast the news spread. The two squaws jabbered eagerly; and the -aides of Cut Nose went galloping to reconnoitre. - -As for Cut Nose himself, he halted, and thereby halted the column, -while he composedly sat to receive reports. The rear gradually pressed -forward to hear, and the squaws strained their ears. Davy could not -understand, but this is what was said, by sign and word, when Tall Bull -had arrived: - -“What is it?” - -“White men, on horses.” - -“How many?” - -“Three.” - -“How far?” - -“A short pony ride.” - -“What are they doing?” - -“Travelling.” - -“Any baggage?” - -“No.” - -“Are they armed?” - -“Yes. Guns.” - -Cut Nose grunted. Now Lame Buffalo, sub-chief, came scouring back. He -had seen the three men. It was as Tall Bull had said. Two of the men -were large, one was small. They were riding mules, and were dressed in -“whoa-haw” clothes, so they were not trappers or hunters, but probably -belonged to that “whoa-haw” train of many men that the column had -sighted travelling east. They were riding as if they wished to catch -it. But they could be reached easily, said Lame Buffalo, his black eyes -blazing. Blazed the black eyes of all; and fiercest were the snappy -black eyes of the two squaws. The three “whoa-haws” could be reached -easily by following up a side ravine that would lead out almost within -bow-shot. Then the white men would be cut off in the midst of a flat -open place where they could not hide. - -“Good,” grunted Cut Nose; and he issued short, rapid orders. Little -Dave had not understood the words but he could understand the gestures -and signs that made up more than half the talk; and he could understand -the bustle that followed. The Cheyennes, the few Arapahoes and Sioux, -were preparing themselves for battle. - -Blankets and robes were thrown looser. Leggings were kicked off, to -leave the limbs still freer. The rawhide loops by which the riders -might hang to the far side of their ponies were hastily tested. Quivers -were jerked into more convenient position. Arrows were loosened in -them. The unstrung bows were strung. The two warriors who had old -guns freshened the priming and readjusted the caps upon the nipples. -Several of the younger warriors hurriedly slashed face and chest anew -with paint. War bonnets were set upon heads; their feathered tails fell -nearly to the ground. - -With a single eagle glance adown his force Cut Nose, raising his hand -as signal, dashed away up the ravine. After him dashed all his array, -even to the two squaws and little Dave. - -Braids tossed, hoofs thudded, war bonnets streamed, and every painted -rider leaned forward, avid for the exit and the attack. Dave’s heart -beat high. He was afraid for the white men. The Cheyennes were so many, -so eager, and so fierce. - -The scouts before kept signing that all was well. The white men -evidently were riding unconscious of a foe close at hand. At the side -ravine Cut Nose darted in. Its farther end was closed by brush and low -plum trees, which rose to fringe the plateau above. A scout was here, -peering, watching the field. He was Yellow Hand, son of Cut Nose. He -signalled “Come! Quick! Enemy here!” - -Thus urged, up the slope galloped Cut Nose, Lame Buffalo, Bear-Who-Walks; -galloped all. At the top, emerging, Cut Nose flung high his hand, shaking -his war bow. Over the top after him poured the racing mass, savage in -paint and cloth and feather and decorated weapon. Swept onward with them -rode little Dave, jostled between the two squaws, who whipped his pony -as often as they whipped their own. - -The halloo of Cut Nose rose vibrant. - -“Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi; yip yip yip!” he whooped, exultant and threatening. - -“Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi; yip yip yip!” yelped every rider, the squaws chiming -in more piercingly than any others. - -Out from the plum tree grove and into the plateau they had burst, and -went charging furiously. - -The sun was shining bright, for the day was glorious June. The plateau -lay bare, save for the grass dried by weather and the few clumps of -sage and greasewood. And there they were, the three whites, stopped -short, staring and for the moment uncertain what to do. - -They were alone, between bending blue sky and wide plain; a little trio -in the midst of a vast expanse. As the scouts had claimed, no shelter -was near. At the other edge of the plateau flowed the North Platte -River, but too distant to be reached now. - -Louder pealed the whoops of the warriors, louder shrieked the shrill -voices of the squaws, as onward charged, headlong, the wild company, to -ride over the white dogs and snatch scalp and weapon. - -Almost within gunshot swept forward the attack. Already had spoken, -recklessly, with “Bang! Bang!” the guns in the hands of the two excited -warriors. Were the white men going to run, or stand? They were going to -stand, for they had vaulted to ground. One of them was small enough -to be a boy. Three puffs of blue smoke jetted from them. The leading -Indians ducked low――but the shots had not been for them! Look! Down had -dropped the three mules, to lie kicking and struggling. - -The white men (yes, one was a boy!) bent over them, stoutly dragging -and shoving; and next, in behind the bodies they had crouched. Only -the tops of their broad hats and their shoulders could be described, -and their gun muzzles projecting before. This, then, was their fort: -the three dead mules arranged in triangle! Evidently the two men, and -perhaps the boy, had fought Indians before. Davy felt like cheering; -but from the forty throats rang a great shout of rage and menace. The -squaws had halted, with Dave, to watch; unchecked and unafraid the -warriors forged on, straight for the little barricade. - -“Kill! Kill!” shrieked the squaws, glaring. - -The warriors were shooting in earnest; arrows flew, the two guns again -belched. The charge seemed almost upon the fort, when from it puffed -the jets of smoke. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” drifted dully the reports; and -with scarce an interval followed other jets, rapid and sharp: “Bang! -Bang-bang! Bang! Bang!” - -From the painted, parted lips of the two squaws issued a wilder, -different note, and little Dave again felt like cheering; for from -their saddles had lurched three of the Cheyennes, and a pony also had -pitched in a heap. - -Cut Nose swerved; he and every warrior flung themselves to the pony -side opposite the fort, and parting, the column split as if the fort -were a wedge. In two wings they went scouring right and left of it. -Around and around the mule-body triangle they rode, at top speed, in a -great double circle, plying their bows. - -Their arrows streamed in a continuous shower, pelting the fort. They -struck, quivering, in the mule bodies and in the ground. Now from every -savage throat rang another shout――high, derisive. On their ponies the -squaws capered, and shook their blanket ends. An arrow was quivering -in a new spot――the shoulder of one of the whites. Now Davy felt like -sobbing. But it was not in the shoulder of the boy; it was in the -shoulder of the man beyond him, and facing the other way. However, that -was bad enough. - -Still, the man was not disabled; not he. His gun remain levelled, -and neither the boy nor the other man paid any attention to him. The -three occasionally shot, but lying low against their ponies’ sides the -Indians, galloping fast, were hard to hit. - -Cut Nose raised his hand again, and from the circle he veered outward. -The circle instantly scattered, and after their chief galloped every -warrior. - -Forward hammered the two squaws, with vengeful look at little Dave -which bade him not to lag. The warriors had gathered in a group, out -of gunshot from the fort. Cut Nose was furious. Indians hate to lose -warriors; and there were three, and a pony, stretched upon the plain. - -“Are you all old women?” scolded Chief Cut Nose, while Dave tried to -guess at what was being shouted, and his two guardians pressed to the -edge of the circle. “You let three whites, one of whom is very little, -beat us? The dogs will bark at us when we go back and the squaws will -whip us through the village. Everybody at home will laugh. They will -say: ‘These are not Cheyennes. They are sick Osages! They are afraid to -take a scalp, and when an enemy points a stick at them, they run!’ Bah! -Am I a chief, and are you warriors, or are we all ghosts?” - -Panting, the warriors listened. They murmured and shrugged, as the -words stung. - -“Those whites shoot very straight. The little one shoots the -straightest of any. They must have many guns. They shoot once and -without loading they shoot again,” argued Lame Buffalo. - -“You talk foolish,” thundered Cut Nose. “These whites cannot keep -shooting. All we need to do is to charge swift and not stop, and when -we reach them their guns will be empty. Shall Cheyennes draw back and -leave three brothers and a good pony lying on the prairie? These whites -will go on and join their whoa-haw train, and tell how they three, from -behind dead mules, fought off the whole Cheyenne nation! Or shall we -send our squaws against them, to kill them! The little white boy will -laugh,” and he pointed at Dave. “He will not want to be a Cheyenne; he -will stay white. Cheyennes are cowards.” - -Through the jostling company ran a hot murmur; but Lame Buffalo, -especially scolded, almost burst. - -“No!” he yelled. “Cheyennes are not cowards! I am a Cheyenne. I can -kill those three whites myself. I will go alone. I ask no help.” - -He whirled his pony; he burst from the dense ring, and tossing high his -plumed lance, with a tremendous shout he launched himself straight for -the mule fort. He did not ride alone; no, indeed! Answering his shout, -and imitating his gesture, every warrior followed, vying to outstrip -him. Now woe for the whites. Dave’s heart beat so as well-nigh to choke -him. His eyes leaped to the fort. - -The two men and the boy in the little triangle had been busy. They had -rearranged the carcasses to give more protection; the arrow had been -pulled from the shoulder of the wounded man; he was as alert as if -he had not been hurt at all; and over the mule bodies jutted the gun -muzzles, trained upon the Indian charge. - -Could that tiny low triangle formed by three dead mules outlast such a -yelling, tearing mob, sweeping down upon it? Could it beat back Lame -Buffalo alone――that splendid feather-crowned horseman, riding like a -demon, shouting like a wolf? He still led, and with every few jumps of -his pony he shook his lance and whooped. - -Well might those three whites in the mule triangle be afraid, at last; -and who could blame the boy, there, if he, particularly, was afraid? It -was a bad place for a boy. Dave watched him anxiously, and wondered. - -The boy was facing toward the charge; the two men also were facing -outward, to right and left of him, that they might cover the charge as -it spread. - -Up rose the boy’s gun; the two men seemed to be waiting upon him. He -was aiming, but he would not shoot yet, would he, with the Indians so -far off? - -Yet, he shot! His gun muzzle puffed smoke. The squaws started, cried -out, waved frantic hands――for three hundred yards from the muzzle had -toppled, toppled from his pony, Lame Buffalo, smitten in mid-course! It -seemed to Dave that he could hear the two white men cheering; but to -the cries of the squaws were added the terrific yells of the warriors, -drowning out every other sound. - -Nevertheless, that was a long, long shot, for boy or man; and a _good_ -shot. The charge split again; and not daring even to pick up Lame -Buffalo, who was crawling painfully and pressing a hand to his side, it -circled around and around the mule fort, as before. - -As Lame Buffalo had said, the “little one” shot the straightest of any. - - - - -II - -THE HERO OF THE MULE FORT - - -Cut Nose signalled his band to council again. Four warriors had fallen, -and two ponies. Now at a safe distance from that venomous, spit-fire -little fort, they all dismounted, except for a few scouts, and squatted -for a long confab. - -“Kill! Kill!” implored the two squaws. - -“Shut up!” rebuked Cut Nose; and they only wailed about the dead. - -On the outskirts of the council, and annoyed by the wailing of the -squaws, Dave could not hear all the discussion. Cut Nose asked the -sub-chiefs for their opinion what to do; and one after another spoke. - -“There is no use in charging white men behind a fort,” said -Bear-Who-Walks. “We lose too many warriors, any one of whom is worth -more than all the white men on the plains. It is not a good way to -fight. I like to fight, man to man, in the open. If we wait long -enough, we can kill those three whites when their hearts are weak with -thirst and hunger.” - -“They have medicine guns,” declared Yellow Hand. “They have guns that -are never empty. No matter how much they shoot, they can always shoot -more. The great spirit of the white people is helping them. It is some -kind of magic.” - -At this, Dave wanted to laugh. The two white men and the white boy were -shooting with revolvers that held six loads each, and the Cheyennes -could not understand. The only guns that the Indians had were two old -muskets which had to be reloaded after every shot. - -“We will wait,” said Cut Nose. “We have plenty of time. The whoa-haws -in front will travel on, leaving these three whites. We will wait, -and watch, and when they have eaten their fort and their tongues are -hanging out for water, we will ride to them and scalp them before they -die. That is the easiest way.” - -Some of the warriors did not favor waiting; the two squaws wept and -moaned and claimed that the spirits of the slain braves were unhappy -because those three whites still lived. But nobody made a decisive -move; they all preferred to squat and talk and rest their ponies and -themselves. - -Meanwhile, in the mule body triangle the two men and the boy had been -busy. They did not waste any time, talking and boasting. It was to be -seen that they were digging hard with their knives, and heaping the -dirt on top of the mule bodies, and between them. An old warrior noted -this. - -“See,” he bade. “The fort is stronger than ever. But by night the wind -will change and we can make the whites eat fire. That is a good plan.” - -“Yes,” they agreed. “Let us wait till dark. White men behind a fort in -daytime are very hard to kill. There is no hurry.” - -The afternoon passed. The Indians chewed dried buffalo meat, and squads -of them rode to the river and watered the horses. While lounging about -they amused themselves by yelling insults at the mule fort; and now and -again little charges were made, by small parties, who swooped as close -as they dared, and shot a few arrows. - -The two men and the boy rarely replied. They, also, waited. Their -barricade was so high, that in the trench behind it they were -completely sheltered. - -But over them and over the field of battle constantly circled two great -black buzzards. Lame Buffalo had ceased to crawl, and lay still. The -squaws begged the young warriors to go out and bring him in――him and -the other stricken braves. The young men only laughed and shook their -heads. One did dash forward; but a bullet from the gun of the boy -grazed his scalp-lock, and ducking he scurried back faster than he had -gone! - -That boy certainly was cool and brave and sharp-sighted. Dave was proud -of him; for Dave, also, was white, and a boy. - -So the afternoon wore away. Evening neared. The sun, a large red ball, -sank into the flat plains. A beautiful golden twilight spread abroad, -tinging the sod and the sky. The world seemed all peaceful; but here -in the midst of the twilight were waiting and watching the painted -Cheyennes, as eager as ever to get at those three persons in the mule -fort. This twilight, Dave imagined, must be a very serious moment for -the fort. The twilight warned that night was at hand. - -Dusk settled, and deepened into darkness. The Sioux made no camp-fires. -Davy wrapped himself in an old buffalo-robe, and guarded by the two -squaws, one on either side of him, tried not to sleep. As he listened, -while he gazed up at the million stars, and the plains breeze fanned -across his face, he wondered what the boy in the mule fort was doing. -No doubt he was listening, too, and wishing that the stars would come -down and help, or else send a message to those freight wagons which -were travelling on. - -Davy must have dropped off to sleep, in spite of himself; because -suddenly he was aroused by the squaws sitting up and jabbering. Had -morning come? The plains yonder were light. No; that was fire! The -Cheyennes, just as they had planned, had set the grass afire, to -windward of the mule fort. While Davy, too, sat up, his heart beating -wildly, the fire seemed to be sweeping right toward the fort. Behind -the line of flames and smoke he could see the dark figures of the -Indians fanning with blankets and robes, to make the line move faster -and fiercer. - -“Humph! A poor fire,” grunted one of the squaws. “Grass too short.” - -“Yes. But it makes a smoke, so the men can charge up close,” answered -the other. - -That, then, was the scheme, if the fire itself did not amount to much. -Some of the dark figures behind the line of fire fanned; others were -stealing forward, into the smoke itself. The moment was exciting. The -smoke was drifting across the fort; would the two men and the boy -suspect that the Indians were following it in? - -The line of fire seemed almost at the low mound which contained the -three whites; the smoke drifted thick and fast; the figures of the -Indians stole forward. Abruptly, from the dim mound spurted a jet of -flame, and sounded a hollow “Bang!” Another jet spurted, with another -“Bang!” And――“Bang! Bang! Bangity-bang-bang!” Hurrah! That fort was not -being fooled; no, indeed. It was ready for anything. It knew what was -behind the smoke, and had only been waiting. - -“Kill! Kill!” shrieked the two squaws, enraged again. But the warriors -gave up, as soon as they found that their smoke scheme had not worked. -They shot their bullets and a few arrows, and lay low. Soon the fire -and the smoke had passed beyond the mule fort. Some of the braves -returned to the camp; the others continued to sneak about, on guard -over the fort. Silence reigned. - -“We might as well go to sleep,” said one squaw to the other. “Nothing -will happen until morning.” - -“Lie down, white red-head,” bade the second squaw, roughly, to Dave. -“To-morrow we will have three more whites, and that will mean lots of -fun.” - -Davy obeyed. It was warmer lying down than sitting up. Thankful that -the three whites were still unbeaten, and too smart for the Cheyennes, -he fell asleep. When again he wakened, it really was morning. The sky -was pink, and stars pale, the brush showed plainly. But he had no time -to meditate, or invite another “forty winks.” The squaws had sprung to -their feet; the air was full of clangor and shouting and shooting; the -Indians were making a charge, the little fort was holding them off. - -It was the angriest charge yet, all in the chill, pink dawn flooding -high sky and broad plain. However, it didn’t work. The two men and the -boy were just as ready as ever, and the charge split. Cut Nose waved -his hand and motioned. The circle of galloping horsemen spread wider, -and dismounting, the riders, holding to their ponies’ neck-ropes, sat -down to wait like a circle of crows watching a corn-field. - -The two squaws were disgusted. They grumbled, as they prepared -breakfast; and under their scowls Davy felt afraid. He wondered what -the Indians would do next. - -Plainly enough, they did not intend to make any more charges. The sun -rose high and higher. His beams were hot, so that the plain simmered. -Without shade in that little open enclosure formed by the mule -carcasses, the three whites would soon be very uncomfortable. One was a -boy and one was wounded. Circling and waiting, the two black buzzards -had been joined by a third. Forming a wide ring of squatting warriors -and dozing ponies, the Indians also waited. The air was still; scarcely -a sound was to be heard, save as now and then the squaws with Davy -murmured one to the other, or a warrior made a short remark. - -What was to be the end? The grim siege was worse than the charges. The -sun had climbed well toward the noon mark, and Davy felt heart-sick for -those three prisoners in the mule fort, when, on a sudden, a new thing -happened. First, a warrior, on his right, up-leaped, to stand gazing -westward, listening. Another warrior stood――and another, and another. -Cut Nose himself was on his feet; ponies were pricking their ears; the -two squaws, bounding to their feet, likewise looked and listened. - -Davy strained his ears. Hark! Distant shooting? Flat, faint reports of -firearms seemed to drift through the stillness. No! Hurrah, hurrah! -Those reports were the cracking of teamsters’ bull-whips. A wagon -train was coming! Another wagon train, from the west! See――above that -ridge there, only half a mile away, a wagon already had appeared: -first the team of several span of oxen, then the white top of the big -vehicle itself, and the driver trudging, and several outriding horsemen -flanking on either side. - -Team after team, wagon after wagon, mounted the ridge, and flowed over -and down. It was a large train, and a grand sight; only, it was not a -grand sight for the Indians. But in the mule fort the two white men and -the boy had jumped up and were waving their hats and cheering. Davy -wanted to join, and wave and cheer. - -To their ponies’ backs were vaulting all the Indians. The two squaws, -panic-stricken, rushed to the safety of their saddles. They seemed to -forget little Dave. Cut Nose had dashed to the front, his men were -rallying around him. Evidently they were debating whether to fight -or run. Louder sounded the smart cracks of the bull-whips; the wagon -train was coming right ahead, lined out for the very spot. The Indians -had short shift for planning. The two squaws, having hastily gathered -their belongings, galloped for the council. Davy started to follow, -but lagged, and paused. His own pony was making off, dragging his neck -rope, to catch up with the other ponies. Davy wisely let him go. - -Now Cut Nose raised his hand; and turning, quickened his pony to a -furious gallop. Shrill pealed his war-whoop; whooping and lashing, -after him pelted every warrior, with the two squaws racing behind. -Straight for the little fort they charged. The three whites had dropped -low, to receive them. And――look, listen――from the wagon train welled -answering yell, and on, across the plain, for the fort, spurred a dozen -and more riders shaking their guns and shouting. - -Davy dived to cover of a greasewood bush, and lay low. But the -Cheyennes did not stop to get him. They kept on; at the little fort -they split, as before, and shooting and yelping they passed on either -side of it. The three whites received them with a volley and sent a -volley or two after them as they thudded away. And that was the end of -the siege. - -Davy did not dare to stand and show himself. To be sure, the Cheyennes, -both men and squaws, were racing away, as hard as they could ride; but -even yet they might send back after him. So he lay and peeped. However, -in the mule fort the two men and the boy had risen upright, again to -wave and cheer. Waving and cheering, the mounted men from the wagon -train came galloping on, and presently the three in the fort stepped -outside. Arrived, the foremost riders from the train hastily flung -themselves from their saddles, and there was apparently a great shaking -of hands and exchange of greetings. With volleys renewed, from their -whip lashes, the teams also were hastening for the scene. The Cheyennes -already were almost out of sight. So Davy stood, and trudged forward. - -He had half a mile to walk, through the low brush. The first of the -wagons beat him to the fort. When he drew near, the lead wagon had -halted, and the others were trundling in one after the other. The men -were crowding about their three comrades who had been rescued, and for -a few moments nobody seemed to notice ragged little red-headed Dave, -toiling on as fast as he could. - -It was a large train. There were twenty-five wagons, with their -teamsters, and about two hundred extra men, some mounted on mules and -horses. However, most of the men were afoot. The wagons were tremendous -big things, with flaring canvas tops on, or else with the canvas -stripped, leaving only the naked hoops of the frame-work. Each wagon -was drawn by twelve panting bullocks, yoked in pairs, or spans. - -The majority of the men were dressed alike, in flat, broad-brimmed -plains hats, blue or red flannel shirts, and rough trousers belted at -the waist and tucked into high, heavy boots. The teamsters were armed -in hand with their whips, of short stock and long lash and snapper -which cracked like a pistol shot. Those cracks could be heard half a -mile. The extra men carried mainly large bore muskets, called (as Davy -knew) Mississippi yagers; and all had knives and pistols, thrust into -waist-band and belt. Whiskered and unshaven and tanned and dusty, it -was a regular rough-and-ready crowd. - -However, of course the three defenders of the mule fort took the chief -attention. They were the two men (the shoulder of one was rudely -bandaged with a blue bandanna handkerchief) and the boy. Even the boy -wore freighter plains costume, of broad hat and flannel shirt and -trousers tucked into boots; and he held a yager in his hand, and had -a butcher knife and two big Colt’s revolvers stuck in his belt. He -and the two men looked pretty well tired out, but they stood fast and -answered all kinds of questions. - -The mule fort showed how hot had been the battle, for the mule bodies -fairly bristled with arrows. Arrows were everywhere on the ground about. - -The freighters had crowded close, and everybody was talking and -laughing at once. Davy stood unnoted on the outskirts, gazing and -listening――until on a sudden he was espied by a tall, lank teamster -with long dusty whiskers. - -“Hello, thar!” the man called, loudly. “Whar’d you come from, Red? -Lookee, boys! Reckon we’ve picked up a trav’ler. Whoopee! Come hyar, -son. Give us an account of yoreself.” - -One after another, they all looked. Davy flushed and fidgeted and felt -much embarrassed. The tall whiskered freighter strode forward and -grasped him by the ragged shirt-sleeve. - -“What’s yore name?” - -“David Scott.” - -“Whar’d you come from?” - -“The Indians had me. They killed my uncle and aunt and made me go -along.” - -“Whar was that?” - -“Back on the Overland Trail. We were with a wagon train and got -separated.” - -“How long ago?” - -“Two weeks, I think.” - -“What Injuns?” - -“Those――――” and Davy pointed in the direction taken by the Cut Nose -band. - -“I want to know!” The teamster gaped wide in astonishment, and from the -crowd came a chorus of exclamations. “How’d you get away?” - -“When you scared them off I hid behind a bush. Two squaws had me, and -they didn’t wait.” - -“You mean to say you war with those same pesky Injuns who war attackin’ -this fort hyar?” - -“Yes, sir. But I didn’t do any of the fighting.” - -“No, o’ course you didn’t. Wall, I’m jiggered!” And the whiskered -freighter seemed overwhelmed with amazement. But he rallied, as a -thought struck him. “Come along hyar. I’ll interduce ye to another -boy.” And by the sleeve he led Davy forward, through the staring crowd. -“Hyar, now; I want to interduce ye to a reg’lar rip-snorter, not much -older’n you are. Red, shake hands with little Billy Cody, the hero of -the mule fort.” - - - - -III - -WITH THE WAGON TRAIN - - -“Little Billy Cody” was the boy who had been with the two men in the -mule fort. Surrounded by the staring crowd Davy felt rather timid and -did not know exactly what to do. But Billy Cody promptly put out his -hand, Davy extended his, and Billy gripped it warmly. - -“Hello,” he said, gruffly. “Where do you hail from?” - -“I was out there, with the Indians, while you were fighting,” explained -Davy. - -“Didn’t we give it to ’em!” asserted Billy Cody. “They thought they had -us; but they didn’t.” - -“I saw you shoot Lame Buffalo,” said Davy, eagerly. “I guess you killed -him.” - -“He shore did,” declared the wounded man. “When little Billy draws bead -on anything, it’s a goner.” - -“Well, I had to do it,” said Billy Cody. “Lew told me to.” - -“So I did,” uttered the second of the two men. “It was time those -Injuns knew what they were up against, when they tackled us and Billy. -That one shot licked ’em.” - -“Hurrah for little Billy!” cheered the crowd, good-natured; and Billy -fidgeted, embarrassed, although anybody could see that he was rather -proud. - -He was a good-looking boy, although now his face was burned and grimy, -and his clothing rough. He stood a little taller than Davy, but he was -slender and wiry. He had brown hair and dark brown eyes and regular -features; and under his grime and tan his skin was smooth. He was -dressed just like the men, and carried himself like a man; but the -muzzle of the long heavy yager extended above his hat-brim. Evidently -his two companions thought highly of him, and so did the men of the -wagon train. - -“Some of you tend to Woods’ shoulder; then if you’ll hustle a little -grub we’ll be ready for it,” quoth the man called Lew. “Those mule -carcasses served a good purpose but they weren’t very appetizing.” - -“First of all, I want a drink,” announced the man called Woods. - -Prompt hands passed forward canteens, and Billy and the two men took -long, hearty swigs of water. - -“Arrow wasn’t pizened, was it?” queried several voices, of Mr. Woods. - -“No. Lew looked at it, and said not. So he put a hunk o’ tobacco on it, -and we haven’t paid much more attention to it,” answered Mr. Woods. -“But it’s powerful sore.” - -“Here; I’ll fix it up,” proffered a quiet man, who had not been saying -much. Now noticing him, Davy thought that he was the finest figure in -the whole party. This man was young (he could not have been more than -twenty, but this pioneer life turned youths into men early) and was -splendidly built. He stood a straight six feet, with slim waist and -broad shoulders and flat back; his hair was long and light yellow, and -his wavy moustache also was light yellow. His eyes were wide and steel -gray, his nose hawk-like, his chin square and firm. His clothes fitted -him well, and were worn with an easy grace. About his strong neck was -loosely knotted a red silk handkerchief. - -“All right, Bill,” responded Mr. Woods, sitting down. “’Twon’t need -much, except a little washing.” - -Bill calmly proceeded to inspect the arrow wound in the shoulder. Other -men were hastily producing food from the wagons. - -“Here, Red,” they bade, to Davy; and sitting in the half circle with -Mr. Lew and Billy Cody, Davy gladly ate. It seemed good to be with -white people again. - -“How long did the Injuns have you?” asked Billy. - -“About two weeks.” - -“They were Cheyennes, weren’t they. Who was their chief?” - -“Cut Nose. He was head chief. But Lame Buffalo and Bear-Who-Walks were -chiefs, too.” - -“That Cut Nose is a mean Injun,” pronounced Billy, wagging his big -hat. “But he didn’t catch _us_――not with Lew Simpson bossing our job. -I thought we were wiped out, sure, till Lew told us to kill our mules -quick and get behind ’em. That was a great scheme.” - -“It shore was,” agreed all the men around, wagging their heads, too, -while they listened. “Injuns hate to charge folks they can’t see well.” - -“Weren’t you afraid?” asked Davy. He liked this Billy Cody, who acted -so like a man and yet was only a boy. - -“He afraid? Billy Cody afraid?” laughed the listeners. “You don’t know -Billy yet.” - -“Whether or not we were afraid, we were mighty glad to have those mules -in front of us, weren’t we, Billy?” spoke up Lew Simpson. “They made a -heap of difference.” - -“That’s right,” answered Billy, frankly. And everybody laughed again. - -The meal was quickly finished. It consisted of only cold beans and -chunks of dried beef, but it tasted tremendously good to Davy; and he -didn’t see that Billy or Mr. Simpson slighted their share, either. Mr. -Woods had been eating while his wound was being dressed. - -“George, you’d better ride in a wagon for a day or so,” called Mr. -Simpson, rising, to Mr. Woods. “Well, Red,” and he addressed Davy, “I -reckon you’ll travel along with us. We’re bound back to the States. Got -any folks there?” - -“No, sir,” said Davy, with a lump in his throat. “But I’d like to go on -with you.” - -“All right-o. Now, some of you fellows hustle us a mule apiece, while -Billy and I plunder those Injuns out there. Then we’ll travel.” - -Mr. Simpson spoke like one in authority. Billy Cody promptly sprang -up, and he and Mr. Simpson strode out into the plain, where the dead -Indians and the ponies were lying. Lame Buffalo was the farthest of -all; but he was still, like the rest. Evidently he would ride and fight -no more. - -The wagon train men bustled about, reforming for the march. Three mules -were saddled, as mounts for Davy and the two others. Having passed -rapidly over the field, Mr. Simpson and Billy returned, laden with the -weapons and ornaments of the warriors and the trappings of the ponies. -They made two trips. Davy recognized the shield and head-dress of Lame -Buffalo, who would need them not again. Billy proudly carried them and -stowed them in a wagon. - -“Those are yours, aren’t they?” asked Davy, following him, to watch. - -“They’re mine if I want them,” said Billy. “Reckon I’ll take ’em home -and give ’em to my sisters.” - -“Where do you live?” - -“In Salt Creek Valley, Eastern Kansas, near Leavenworth. Where do you?” - -“Nowhere, I guess,” replied Davy, trying to smile. - -“Pshaw!” sympathized Billy. “That’s sure hard luck. Ride along with me -and I’ll tell you about things.” - -“Here, boy――crawl into this,” called a teamster nearby; and he tossed -at Davy a red flannel shirt. “It’ll match yore ha’r.” And he laughed -good-naturedly. - -“It’s my color all right,” responded Davy, without being teased, as -he picked up the shirt. “Much obliged.” He slipped it over his head. -It fitted more like a blouse than a shirt, but he needed something of -the kind. After he had turned back the sleeves and tucked in the long -tails, he was very comfortable. - -“Climb on your mule, Red,” bade Billy Cody. “We’re going to start, and -Lew Simpson won’t wait for anybody.” - -Mr. Simpson was already on his mule. The other mounted men were in -their saddles. Mr. Simpson cast a keen glance adown the line. - -“All ready?” he shouted. “Go ahead.” - -The long lash of the leading teamster shot out with a resounding crack. - -“Gee-up!” he cried. “You Buck! Spot!” And again his whip cracked -smartly. His six yoke of oxen leaned to their work; the wagon creaked -as it moved. All down the line other whips were cracking, and other -teamsters were shouting, and the wagons creaked and groaned. One after -another they started, until the whole train was in motion. - -Mr. Simpson and two or three companions led, keeping to the advance. -The other riders were scattered in bunches back on either side of the -train; the teamsters walked beside their wagons; and in the rear of -the train ambled a large bunch of loose cattle and mules, driven by a -herder. - -Billy Cody and Dave rode together, well up toward the front. - -“Did you ever freight any?” queried Billy. “What was that train you -were with? Just emigrants?” - -“Yes,” answered Davy. “We were going to Salt Lake.” - -“Mormons?” demanded Billy, quickly. - -“No. After we’d got to Salt Lake maybe we’d have gone on to California.” - -“Expect I’ll go across to California sometime,” asserted Billy. “How -old are you, Red?” - -“Eleven.” - -“I’m thirteen, but I’ve been drawing pay with a bull train three trips -out and back. The first time I was herder from Fort Leavenworth out to -Fort Kearney and back. Next time I was herder from Leavenworth for Salt -Lake, but the Injuns turned us at Plum Creek just beyond Fort Kearney -and we had to quit. I killed an Injun too dead to skin, but I was so -scared I didn’t know what I was doing. Last summer I went out as extra -hand with a big outfit for the soldiers at Salt Lake, but the Mormons -held us up and took all our stuff, so we couldn’t help the army, -and we had to spend the winter at Fort Bridger, and all of us nearly -starved.” - -“What’s an extra hand?” asked Davy. - -“He takes the place of any other man, who may be sick or hurt,” -explained Billy, importantly. “I’m drawing man’s pay; forty a month. -I’m saving it to give to my mother, as soon as I get back. Weren’t you -ever with a bull train before?” - -Davy shook his head. - -“No.” - -“This is a Russell, Majors & Waddell outfit,” proceeded Billy. “They’re -the big freighters out of Leavenworth across the plains and down to -Santa Fe. Gee, they haul a lot of stuff! We’re travelling empty, back -from Fort Laramie to Leavenworth. This is only half the train; there’s -another section on ahead of us. Lew and George and I were riding on to -catch up with it, when those Injuns corralled us. If Lew hadn’t been -so smart, they’d have had our hair, too. We wouldn’t have stood any -show at all. But those mules did the business. And I had a dream that -helped. Last night I dreamed my old dog Turk came and woke me; and when -I did wake I saw the Injuns sneaking up on us. Then we all woke, and -drove ’em back. I’m going to thank Turk for that. I don’t know how he -found me. This isn’t the regular trail; but Lew thought he’d make a -short cut.” - -“Is he the captain?” asked Davy. - -“He’s wagon boss; he’s boss of the whole train, and he’s a dandy. I -reckon he’s the best wagon boss on the plains. George Woods――the man -who was wounded――he’s assistant boss. He’s plucky, I tell you. That -arrow didn’t phase him at all. Lew bound a big chunk of tobacco on it, -and George went on fighting. Do you know what they call this outfit. -It’s a bull outfit, and those drivers are bull-whackers. Jiminy, but -they can throw those whips some!” - -“When will we get to Leavenworth, do you think?” - -“In about twenty-five days. We’re travelling light, and I guess we -can make twenty miles a day. We’ve got a lot of government men with -us, from Fort Laramie, and the Injuns will think twice before they -interfere, you bet. We’re too many for ’em. I reckon those Cheyennes -didn’t expect to see another bull train following that first one.” - -“No. They thought you were left behind and were trying to catch up. So -they waited to starve you out. That’s what fooled ’em.” - -“It sure did,” nodded Billy, gravely. “Say, there’s another fine -man with this outfit. He’s the one who dressed Woods’ shoulder. His -name’s Jim Hickok, but everybody calls him ‘Wild Bill.’ Isn’t he a -good-looker?” - -“That’s right,” agreed Davy. - -“Well, he isn’t just looks, either,” asserted Billy. “He’s all there. -He’s been a mighty good friend of mine. Because I was a boy some of -the men thought they could impose on me. A big fellow slapped me off a -bull-yoke, when I was sitting and didn’t jump the instant he bade me. I -was so mad I threw a pot of hot coffee in his face; and I reckon he’d -have killed me if Wild Bill hadn’t knocked him cold. When he came to -he wanted to fight; but Wild Bill told him if he or anybody else -ever bullied ‘little Billy’ (that’s what they call me) they’d get such -a pounding that they wouldn’t be well for a month of Sundays. Nobody -wants trouble with Wild Bill. He can handle any man in the outfit; but -he doesn’t fight unless he has to. He’s quiet, and means to mind his -own business.” - -With the wagons creaking and groaning, and the oxen puffing and -wheezing, and the teamsters cracking their long whips, the bull -train slowly toiled on, across the rolling prairie. The trail taken -occasionally approached the banks of the North Platte River, and soon -there would be reached the place where the North Platte and the South -Platte joined, to make the main Platte, flowing southeastward for the -Missouri, 400 miles distant. Beyond the Missouri were the States, -lined up against this “Indian country” where all the freighting and -emigrating was going on. - -The train made a halt at noon, and again at evening. Nothing especial -had occurred since the rescue of the three in the mule fort. Davy was -very glad, at night, to lie down with Billy Cody under a blanket, among -friends, instead of shivering in an Indian camp. - -Start was made again at sunrise. To-day the main travelled Platte Trail -would be reached, and the going would be easier. Just as the trails -joined in mid-morning, a sudden cry sped down the long line of wagons. - -“Buffalo! Buffalo!” - -All was excitement. Davy peered. - -“See ’em?” said Billy, pointing. “That’s a big herd. Thousands of ’em. -Hurray for fresh meat.” - -Ahead, between the river at one side and some sand bluffs at the -other, a black mass, of groups as thick as gooseberry bushes, had -appeared. The mass was in slow motion, as the groups grazed hither -and thither. On the edges, black dots told of buffaloes feeding out -from the main body. There must have been thousands of the buffalo. -Davy had seen other herds but none so large as this one. His blood -tingled――especially when Lew Simpson, the wagon boss came galloping -back. - -“Ride on, some of you men,” he shouted. “There’s meat. You whackers -follow along by the trail and be on hand when we’re butchering.” - -“I can’t go, can I?” appealed Davy, eagerly, to Billy. - -“No; you haven’t any gun,” answered Billy. “I’m going, though. I can -kill as many buffalo as anybody. You watch us.” - -Forward galloped Lew Simpson and Billy and twenty others. From a wagon -George Woods, his shoulder bandaged and painful, stuck out his head, -and lamented the fact that he was too sore to ride. The buffalo hunt -promised to be great sport; and, besides, the fresh meat would be a -welcome change. - -So away the hunters galloped, Lew Simpson and little Billy leading. The -train, guarded by the other men, followed, closely watching. Even the -very rear of it was excited. - -Now arose another cry, passing from mouth to mouth. - -“Lookee there! More hunters!” - -That was so. Beyond the buffalo, up along the river were speeding -another squad of horsemen, evidently intent upon the same prey. They -were coursing rapidly, but already the buffalo had seen them, and with -uplifted heads the farthest animals were gazing, alarmed. - -“Our fellows will have to hurry,” remarked the teamster nearest to -Davy. “Shucks! That’s no way to hunt buff’ler. Those fellers must be -crazy. They’ll stampede the whole herd!” - -“They’ll stampede the whole herd, sure,” agreed everybody. - -It was a moment of great interest. Davy thumped his mule with his -heels, and hastened ahead, the better to witness. The party led by -Lew Simpson and Wild Bill and little Billy had been making a circuit, -keeping to the cover of the low ground, until they were close enough to -charge; but those other hunters were riding boldly, as if to run the -buffalo down. And as anybody should know, this really was not the right -way to hunt buffalo. - -“They’ll drive ’em into our fellows,” claimed several voices. “They’ll -do the runnin’ an’ we’ll do the killin’!” - -“Or else they’ll drive ’em into _us_!” cried others. “Watch out, boys! -Watch yore teams! Steady with yore teams, or there’ll be the dickens to -pay.” - -That seemed likely. The stranger hunters were right upon the herd; the -outside buffalo had wheeled; and tossing their heads and whirling, now -with heads low and tails high the whole great herd was being set in -motion, fleeing to escape. The thudding of their hoofs drifted like -rolling thunder. After the herd pelted the stranger hunters. - -Part of the herd plashed through the river; part made for the -sand-hills――but smelling or sighting the Simpson party, they veered and -came on, between the river and the sand-hills, straight for the trail -and the wagon-train. In vain out dashed, to turn them, the Simpson -party; from the train itself the horsemen spurred forward, as a bulwark -of defense; the teamsters shouted and “Gee-hawed” and swung their -bull-whips, and the oxen, surging and swerving, their nostrils wide and -their eyes bulging, dragged the wagons in confusion. In his excitement -Davy rode on, into the advance, to help it. - -To shout and wave at those crazy hunters and order them to quit their -pursuit was useless. They didn’t see and they couldn’t hear; at least, -they did not seem to understand. Panic-stricken, the buffaloes came -straight on. Off to the side Lew Simpson and Wild Bill and little -Billy and companions were shooting rapidly; the stranger hunters were -shooting, behind; and now the reinforcements from the train were -shooting and yelling, hoping to split the herd. Some of the buffaloes -staggered and fell; others never hesitated or turned, but forged along -as if blind and deaf. One enormous old bull seemed to bear a charmed -life; he galloped right through the skirmish line; and the next thing -that Davy, as excited as anybody, knew, the bull sighted him, and -charged him. - -Davy found himself apparently all alone with the big bull. He did not -need to turn his mule; his mule turned of its own accord, and away they -raced. Davy was vaguely conscious of shouts and shots and the frenzied -leaps of his frightened mule, which was heading back to the wagon -train. Davy did not know that he was doing right, to lead the angry -bull into the train; he tugged in vain at his mule’s bit, and could -not make the slightest impression. Then, down pitched the mule, as if -he had thrust his foot into a hole; and the ground flew up and struck -Davy on the ear. In a long slide he went scraping on ear and shoulder, -before he could stagger to his feet. - -The mule was galloping away; but Davy looked for the buffalo. The big -bull had stopped short and was staring and rumbling, as if astonished. -The change in the shape of the thing that he had been chasing seemed -to make him angrier. He stood, puzzled and staring and rumbling, only -about twenty yards from Davy. Suddenly the red shirt must have got into -his eyes, for his fore-hoofs began to throw the dirt higher, and Davy -somehow knew that he was going to charge. - -Not much time had passed; no, not a quarter of a minute, since the mule -had fallen and had left Davy to the buffalo. The wagon train men were -yelling and running, from the one direction; the hunters were yelling -and riding, from the other; and whether they were yelling and hurrying -on his account, Davy could not look, to see. Down had dropped the -bull’s huge shaggy head, up had flirted his little knobbed tail; and on -he came. - -Davy never knew how he managed――he dimly heard another outburst of -confused shouts, amidst which Billy Cody’s voice rang the clearest, -with “Dodge him, Red! This way, this way!” He did not dare to glance -aside, and he felt that it was not much use to run; but in a twinkling -he peeled off the crimson shirt (which was so large for him) and -throwing it, sprang aside. - -Into the shirt plunged the big bull, and tossed it and rammed it and -trampled it, while Davy watched amazed, ready to run off. - -“Bully for you, Red!” sang out a familiar voice; riding hard to Davy’s -side dashed Billy Cody, on lathered mule; he levelled his yager, it -spoke, the big bull started and stiffened, as if stung. Slowly he -swayed and yielded, with a series of grunts sinking down, and down; -from his knees he rolled to his side; and there he lay, not breathing. - - - - -IV - -VISITING BILLY CODY - - -“All right, Red,” panted Billy Cody. “He’s spoiled your shirt, though. -Lucky you weren’t inside it. Say, that was a smart trick you did. Get -up behind me. The wagon train’s in a heap of trouble. Let’s go over -there.” - -Davy’s knees were shaking and he could not speak; he was ashamed to -seem so frightened, but he clambered aboard the mule, behind the -saddle. Away Billy spurred for the wagon train. Other hunters were -spurring in the same direction. - -The wagon train certainly was having a time of it. Those stranger -hunters, from down the river, had driven the buffaloes straight into -the teams. The cavvy of loose cattle and mules had scattered; ox-teams -had broken their yokes or had stampeded with the wagons. Several wagons -were over-turned; and a big buffalo was galloping away with an ox-yoke -entangled in his horns. Wild Bill overhauled him in short order and -returned with the yoke; but hither and thither across the field were -racing and chasing other men, ahorse and afoot, trying to gather the -train together again. - -By the time that the buffalo charge had passed on through and the -animals were making off into the distance, most of the train’s hunters -had arrived. The other hunters, from below, also arrived. They proved -to be a party of emigrants, for California, who did not understand how -to hunt buffalo. In fact, they had not killed a single one. However, -Lew Simpson gave them a pretty dressing down for their carelessness. - -“You’ve held us up for a day, at least,” he stormed; “and you’ve done -us several hundred dollars’ worth of damage besides.” - -“Well-nigh killed that boy, too,” spoke somebody. “Did you see him peel -that shirt? Haw-haw! Slipped out of it quicker’n a snake goin’ through -a holler log!” - -“Little Billy came a-runnin’, though,” reminded somebody else. - -“Yep; but didn’t save the shirt!” - -That was true――everybody agreed that Davy would not have been saved had -he not acted promptly. He was given another shirt (a blue one) to take -the place of the one sacrificed to the big buffalo. - -The California party rode away, taking a little meat that Lew Simpson -offered them after they had properly apologized for their clumsiness. -The rest of the day was spent in cutting up the buffaloes, and in -repairing the wagons and harness. Not until the next noon was the train -able to resume its creaking way, down the Platte River trail, for the -Missouri River at Fort Leavenworth. - -About twenty miles a day were covered now, regularly, and during the -days Davy learned considerable about a “bull train” on the plains. He -learned that he was lucky to ride instead of walk; nearly everybody -with a bull train walked. However, this train was travelling almost -empty, back from Fort Laramie, on the North Platte River in western -Nebraska (for Nebraska Territory extended to the middle of present -Wyoming), to Fort Leavenworth in eastern Kansas Territory. It was -accompanied by a lot of government employes, who did not work for -the train, and these rode if they could furnish their own mules. Lew -Simpson, the wagon boss, and George Woods, the assistant wagon boss, -Billy the extra hand, and the herder, rode, because that was the -custom; all the other employes walked. - -The oxen or “bulls” (as they were called) were guided by voice and -whip. The whip, though, rarely touched them hard; just a flick of the -lash at one side or the other of the leading span was enough. A sharp -“Gee up!” or a “Whoa, haw, Buck!” and a motion of the lash, did the -business. Some of the oxen seemed to be very wise. - -“Do you know what those whips are, Red?” asked Billy. - -“Raw hide.” - -“Better than that. I’ll get one and show you when we camp.” - -So he did that noon. - -“Hickory stock, and lash of buffalo hide, tanned, with a buck-skin -cracker,” informed Billy. “Eighteen inch stock, eighteen foot lash, and -cost eighteen dollars. You ought to see some of these whackers sling -a whip! They can stand at the fore wheel and pick a fly off the lead -team! Yes, and they can take a chunk of hide out, too――but they don’t -often do that.” - -Davy curiously examined the bull whip. The stock was short and smooth, -the lash was long and braided thickest in the middle, like the shape of -a snake. The cracker was about six inches in length, and already had -frayed at the tip; and no wonder, for it had often been made to snap -like a pistol shot! - -“I can swing the thing a little, but it’s sort of long for me,” -announced Billy, proceeding to practise with it, until he had almost -taken off his own ear, and made the whole mess uneasy. “I’m not going -to quit, though,” he added, “until I can throw a bull whip as good as -anybody;” and he took the whip back to its owner. - -Billy was quite a privileged character, at camp and on the march. -Everybody liked him, and considered him about as good as a man. To be -an “extra hand” was no small job. It meant that whenever any of the -teamsters was sick or hurt or otherwise laid off, “little Billy” took -his place. The “extra hand” rode with the wagon boss (who was Lew -Simpson), carried orders for him down the line, and was held ready to -fill a vacancy. So this duty required a boy of no ordinary pluck and -sense. - -Besides, it was generally known that Billy was drawing wages to give -to his mother, who was a widow trying to raise a family. Billy was the -“man” of the family, and they depended on him. The wagon train liked -him all the more for this. Everybody spoke well of “little Billy,” for -his good sense and his courage. Davy heard many stories of what he had -done. The fight in the mule fort had showed his quality in danger; and -he had proved himself in several other “scrimmages” with the Indians. - -He and Davy and Lew Simpson and George Woods and Wild Bill and a squad -of government men formed a mess, which ate together. The pleasantest -part of the day was the noon halt, around the camp-fire; and the -evening camp, at sunset. Billy put in part of his rests at practising -writing with charcoal on any surface that he could find. Even when -Davy had joined the train, the wagon boxes and tongues and wheels -bore scrawls such as “Little Billy Cody,” “Billy Cody the Boy Scout,” -“William Frederick Cody,” etc. However, as a writer Dave could beat -Billy “a mile,” as the teamsters said. Billy was not much of a figurer, -either. But he was bound to learn. - -“Ma wants me to go to school some more,” he admitted. “So I suppose -I’ll have to this winter. I went some last winter, and we had a teacher -in the house, too. A little schooling won’t hurt a fellow.” - -“No, I suppose it won’t,” answered Davy, gravely. “I’ve had to go to -school. But I’d rather do this.” - -“So would I,” confessed Billy. “I like it and I need the money――and I -need the schooling, too. Reckon I can do both.” - -As for Davy himself, the wagon train seemed to consider him, also, -somewhat of a personage, because he had shown his “smartness” when the -buffalo bull had attacked him. Of course, he had only slid out of his -big flannel shirt, and fooled the buffalo with it; but that had been -the right thing done in the right place at the right time, and this -counted. - -Nothing especial happened as the long train toiled on. The trail was -fine, worn smooth by many years of travel over it. This was the old -Oregon Trail, and California, from the Missouri River, over the plains -and the mountains, clear to the Pacific coast of the West. Beaver -trappers and Indian traders had opened it, thirty years ago, and it -had been used ever since, by trappers and traders, and by soldiers and -emigrants, and its name was known the world around. - -The wagon train frequently met other outfits, freight and emigrants, -bound west; and before the train turned off the main trail for the -government road branching southeast for Leavenworth, the Hockaday & -Liggett stage-coach from St. Joseph on the Missouri for Salt Lake -City passed them. It wasn’t much of a stage, being only a small wagon -covered with canvas and drawn by four mules, and running twice a -month; but it carried passengers clear through from the Missouri River -to Utah. The wagon train gave it a cheer as it trundled by. - -“What are you going to do when you reach Leavenworth, Red?” asked Billy -one day, when they were riding along. Leavenworth was now only a few -days ahead. - -“I don’t know,” answered Davy. “I guess I can find a job somewhere. -I’ll work for my board.” - -“Oh, pshaw! I’ll get you a job with a bull train,” spoke Billy -confidently. “I’ll ask Mr. Russell or Mr. Majors. They’ll take care of -any friend of mine, and you’ve proved you’re the right stuff. But first -you come home with me. I’ll give you a good time. Wild Bill’s coming, -too, after a while.” - -“Maybe your folks won’t want me.” - -This made Billy almost mad. - -“They will, too. What do you talk that way for? You ought to see my -mother. I’ve got the best mother that ever lived. She’ll be glad to see -anybody that I bring home, and so will my sisters, and Turk. You come -along. The trail goes right past the place, and we’ll quit there, and -not wait to reach Leavenworth. I’ll get paid off first.” - -There was no resisting Billy, and Davy promised. - -Yes, evidently Leavenworth and the end of that long Overland Trail -were near. The talk in the train was largely of Fort Leavenworth and -Leavenworth City, where the train would be broken and reorganized for -another trip, and the men would have a short rest and see the sights, -if they chose. New farms were being passed, and the beginnings of new -settlements; and the number of emigrant outfits was much increased. -The greetings all referred to the farther West――Kansas, Utah, and -California were on every tongue. Over the trail hung a constant dust -of travel, and the air was vibrant with the spirit of pioneers pushing -their way into a new country. These men, women and children, travelling -with team and wagon, were brave people. Nothing, not even the Indians, -was keeping them back. They intended to settle somewhere and establish -homes again. The sight sometimes made Davy sick at heart, because he, -too, had been travelling with one of these household wagons; but the -Indians had “wiped it out.” - -Well, he was in good hands now. Billy Cody would see him through. - -“We’ll strike the Salt Creek Valley to-morrow morning,” announced -Billy. “Hurrah! I’ll get my pay order to-night, so we can cut away -to-morrow without any waiting.” - -The morning was yet young when Billy pointed ahead. - -“When we get over this hill we’ll see where I live, Red. It’s yonder, -on the other side.” - -The trail was ascending a long hill. From the top Billy waved his hat. - -“There’s the Salt Creek Valley. I can see the house, too. That’s it, -down below. Goodby, everybody. Come on, Red.” And with a whoop away -raced Billy down the hill. - -As he rode he whistled shrill. - -“Watch for Turk,” he cried to Red, galloping behind. And presently he -cried again: “There he comes! I knew he would!” - -Sure enough, from the house, before and below, near the trail, out -had darted a dog, to stand a moment, listening and peering――then, -head up and ears pricked, to line himself at full speed for Billy. On -he scoured (what a big fellow he was when he drew near), while Billy -whistled and shouted and laughed and praised. - -When they met, Billy flung himself from his saddle for a moment, and he -and the big dog wrestled in sheer delight. - -“Isn’t he a dandy?” called Billy to Red. “Smartest old fellow in -Kansas. He saved my sisters’ lives once from a panther. I’d rather have -him than a man any time.” - -They rode on, with Turk gambolling beside them. He was a brindled boar -hound, looking like a Great Dane. - -Now Turk raced ahead, as if to carry the news; and several people had -emerged from the house and were gathered before the door gazing. Billy -waved his big hat, and they waved back. They were a woman and four -girls. - -“That’s ma and my sisters,” said Billy. Down he rushed, at full gallop -of his mule; Davy thudded in his wake. - -“Hello, mother! Hello, sisses!” - -“Oh, it’s Will! Will!” - -Dismounting, Billy was passed from one to another and hugged and -kissed. He was held the longest and closest in his mother’s arms. Turk -barked and barked. - -“Here, Red; come on,” ordered Billy, of Dave. “Mother, this is my -friend Dave Scott. He’s going to visit us, and then I’ll get him a -job on the trail. These girls are my sisters, Dave. Don’t be afraid -of them. Take care of him, Turk. He’s all right, old fellow. He’s a -partner.” And Turk, sniffing of Davy and wagging his great tail, seemed -to understand. - -“Any friend of Will’s is more than welcome,” said Billy’s mother, and -she actually kissed Dave. The girls shyly shook hands, and he knew that -they welcomed him, too. - -Then they all went into the house, where Billy must sit down and tell -about his experiences. That took some time, for he had been gone a -year. But before he started to talk and answer questions, he said: -“Here, ma; here’s my pay check. How do you want it cashed――gold or -silver?” - -“For goodness sake, Will!” gasped Mother Cody, while his sisters -peeped. “Is this all yours?” - -“No,” said Billy, solemnly shaking his head. “I can’t say it is, -mother.” - -“Then whose is it?” she asked anxiously. - -“Yours,” laughed Billy. - -The Cody house was a heavy log cabin of two rooms and a rough roof, in -the Salt River Valley across which ran the Salt Lake overland trail. -Fort Leavenworth and the Missouri River were only four miles eastward, -and two miles below Fort Leavenworth was Leavenworth City. The Cody -farm had been located by Billy’s father as soon as Kansas had been -opened for settlement, in 1853, but Billy’s father had died two years -ago. As Davy soon saw, Billy was the man of the family, and whatever he -earned was badly needed. - -It was good fun visiting at the Codys. There was Mrs. Cody and the four -girls, Julia, Eliza, Helen and May, who seemed to think that Billy -knew everything. Julia was older than he, but the others were younger. -There was Turk the big dog; and not far from the Cody place lived other -settlers who had children. But among all the boys Billy Cody was the -only one who had been out across the plains drawing man’s pay with a -wagon train. - -The Codys lived right at the edge of the Kickapoo Indian reservation. -Billy knew the Indians and they liked him; he could shoot with bow and -arrow, and could talk Kickapoo, and had learned a lot of clever ways to -camp and travel. - -Best of all, past the Cody place, across Salt Creek Valley wended the -Overland Trail――climbing the hill here, and disappearing into the west. -Over it always hung that veil of dust from the teams and wagons that -had set out. All kinds of “outfits,” as Billy called them, travelled -it: the straining, creaking “bull trains,” carrying freight for the -big freighting firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell; the settlers, bound -westward, with their canvas-topped wagons bursting with household -goods, the women and children often walking alongside; soldiers, for -the forts of the Indian country; gold-seekers with pack mules; “tame” -Indians, from the reservations or from outside villages; parties -returning for the “States,” from California and Utah and the mountains, -some of them with droves of horses, some without anything at all. - -It was a very important highway, this Salt Lake, California and Oregon -“Overland” Trail, which had one beginning at Leavenworth on the -Missouri, only six miles from the Cody place; and the Codys saw all the -travel that started on it. So no wonder Billy had made up his mind to -be a plainsman and work on the trail; and no wonder that Davy wanted to -do likewise. It seemed a useful work, and much needed; but it called -for stout mind and brave heart, as well as sturdy body. As for sturdy -body the work itself made people strong. The proper mind and heart were -the more necessary qualifications. - -Billy soon took the two mules into Leavenworth, and returned them to -the company. When he came home, he gave his mother a double handful of -gold pieces. - -“Will, it doesn’t seem possible that you’ve earned all this!” - -“Well, I guess if you’d been along, ma, you’d have known that I earned -them; wouldn’t she, Dave!” laughed Billy. “I earned enough just while I -was in the mule fort to keep us the rest of our lives――only, I haven’t -got it yet.” - -“You’ll never go out again, will you, Will?” appealed his mother -anxiously. “Promise me.” - -Billy put his arms about her and hugged her tight. She was a frail -little mother, not nearly as strong as Billy, and she never felt well, -Billy had explained to Dave. Now he said, holding her: - -“I can’t promise, ma. We need the money, and that’s the quickest way -to earn it. But I always come back safe, don’t I? Don’t you ever worry -about _me_. I can take care of myself. I’m as good as a man, you know.” - -Mother Cody only sighed, and kissed him. She said nothing more. - - - - -V - -DAVY GOES ON HERD - - -“Red,” said Billy, after three weeks had passed, “what do you want to -do? I’m going out again.” - -“Where, Billy?” asked Dave. - -“Out across the plains. Got another job with a bull train. I can’t -stand this loafing. You can stay here, I reckon. My mother’ll be glad -to have you. Or I’ll get you a job with the company.” - -Of course, Davy had no notion of staying on at the Cody home, where -means were scant and where Mrs. Cody, helped by Billy, had all she -could do to take care of her own children. No; he wanted to earn his -way in the world. - -“I think I’d rather go to work,” he answered. “When will you start, -Billy?” - -“Next week. Come on into town. We’ll see Mr. Russell. He’ll fix you -out.” - -“Maybe I’m too small.” - -“No, you aren’t. Size isn’t what counts, out here. It’s what a fellow -does, not how he looks. See?” - -This sounded encouraging, for Billy seemed to know. Hadn’t he gone -to work himself herding cattle for the Russell, Majors & Waddell -Freighting Company, when he was aged only ten? And now at thirteen he -was almost the same as a man! Davy determined to show his own pluck, -and do his best, and make himself a place as a worker in those busy -days when the great West was being settled. - -That noon Billy borrowed a couple of ponies from a neighbor, and he and -Dave rode in to Leavenworth City. - -“That Mr. Russell is the finest man you ever met,” declared Billy. -“Mr. Majors is a good one, too, but Mr. Russell is the one who’s taken -special care of me. He was a mighty close friend of my father’s; when -dad was selling hay to Fort Leavenworth Mr. Russell let me ride about -the country with him and I learned a lot about the freighting business. -Times looked kind of hard and somebody stole my pony, and he told me -to keep a stiff upper lip and come to Leavenworth and he’d give me a -job herding at twenty-five a month. That was four years ago. I’ve been -working for the company ever since, except when I had to go to school. -When I started in, it was just Russell & Majors――William H. Russell -and Alexander Majors; last spring Mr. William Waddell joined them, -and now the company is Russell, Majors & Waddell. Mr. Majors has been -freighting ever since eighteen forty-eight, on the Santa Fe Trail down -into New Mexico. Now the company hauls all the government stuff from -Fort Leavenworth across the plains to Fort Laramie and over to Salt -Lake. That train I went out with last summer carried nearly two hundred -thousand pounds of freight. They’re running about three thousand wagons -now, and use four thousand men. They’re a big company, but they treat -their men right; and whatever Mr. Russell or Mr. Majors offers you, you -take. If we don’t find either of them at the fort they’ll be in town, I -reckon.” - -Fort Leavenworth was located on the high land, overlooking the Missouri -River, two miles above Leavenworth City. It was an important, solid -fort, with stone buildings grouped about a large parade ground, and the -flag floating in the breeze. Soldiers of the infantry, cavalry, and -dragoons were moving hither-thither, drilling or attending to other -duties, and on the outskirts of the post were parked a great number of -freight wagons, attended by their teamsters. - -As he and Davy rode through the wagons, on either side of the trail, -Billy called out to one of the men. - -“Hello, Buck.” - -“Hello, Billy.” - -“Is Mr. Russell around here?” - -“Yes. He’s over at the quartermaster’s office.” - -“When do you pull out, Buck?” - -“Thursday the tenth, Billy.” - -“All right. I’ll be on hand.” - -“That’s Buck Bomer,” explained Billy, as he and Davy rode on. “He’s the -wagon boss I’m going out with. Now we’ll find Mr. Russell.” - -They had no difficulty in passing the guard stationed beside the road -where it entered the edge of the post. Billy seemed to be a familiar -figure here. He led the way to a large building that looked like -a warehouse, where several freight wagons were standing and where -soldiers and civilians were trudging about, as if loading freight. - -At the end of the platform Billy slipped off his horse, and tied him; -Dave did likewise. - -“Come on,” bade Billy. “There’s Mr. Russell now. That sandy little man -talking with the officer. We’ll hail him when we get the chance.” - -They lingered a few minutes, while Billy edged closer, waiting to be -recognized. Davy followed him about anxiously. Presently Mr. Russell -caught sight of Billy, and smiled and nodded. The officer turned away, -and Billy sprang forward to seize the opportunity. - -“How are you, Billy,” greeted Mr. Russell. “What can I do for you?” - -“I’ve brought my friend Dave Scott over, Mr. Russell,” informed Billy. -“He’s the boy I spoke about. He’d like a job, if you can give it to -him.” - -Mr. Russell eyed Dave up and down. A small man was Mr. Russell. He had -a freckled complexion, a rather dried-up appearance, and an abrupt -manner; and he was as keen as tacks. He did not seem to be a man who -could handle rough teamsters; but evidently he could. Davy tried to -stand his gaze, and not to be embarrassed. - -“What can you do?” - -“He’ll tackle anything.” - -“He’s the boy who left his shirt to the buffalo, is he?” - -“Yes, sir. We all liked him with the wagons.” - -“Well, I can’t send him out this time. We don’t need him with a train.” -Mr. Russell spoke directly to Davy. “Did you ever herd?” - -“Not much, sir. But I think I could.” - -“Well, you go on down to Leavenworth and see Mr. Majors. He’s hiring -the herding end of the business. If he wants to take you on, all -right.” And Mr. Russell turned away. He was a man of short speech. - -“Much obliged, Mr. Russell,” answered the two boys. - -“Come on, Dave,” bade Billy, making for the two ponies. - -They mounted, to go on to Leavenworth City. This was in plain sight -from the high land where the fort was located. It was nestled -prettily in a wooded basin beside the river two miles southeast. Fort -Leavenworth was on the trail between it and Salt Creek Valley, and the -trail continued to the Missouri at the town itself. - -A lively place Leavenworth proved to be. It contained about five -thousand people, living there, and a lot more who were simply pausing -until they had outfitted for the trail westward. The streets were -crowded with teams and wagons and people; and the river was dotted with -rowboats, barges and several steamboats. - -Billy Cody hustled right along, without giving Dave much time to look -about. Evidently he was bound for the company office. In fact, suddenly -he said so. - -“There’s the Planters’ Hotel, Red,” he spoke, pointing. “It’s the -biggest. The company’s office is right across the street, kittycorner. -See it?” - -Kittycorner from the Planters’ Hotel (which was a large three-story -building, with a wide porch and a verandah, too, running around its -face) Dave saw a sign reading, in big letters, “Russell, Majors & -Waddell,” on a brick building. The streets hereabouts were more crowded -than at any other point, and the two boys had difficulty in threading -their way, dodging people and horses and oxen and wagons. - -“Better tie up here,” spoke Billy abruptly, his quick eye sighting -a vacant hitching spot at the sidewalk. “This place is getting too -populous for me; can’t hardly breathe.” - -They wedged in, tied their horses, and Billy led the way to the -Russell, Majors & Waddell office――headquarters of the great overland -freighting firm. - -“That’s Mr. Majors at the desk,” he informed, undertone, to Dave, on -the threshold. And――“How do you do, Mr. Waddell?” he said respectfully, -as another man was brushing past them. - -“How-do-do, Billy,” responded the man. “Back again, are you?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Well, take care of yourself, my boy,” and Mr. Waddell hastened away, -as if on matters important. - -“He’s the third partner,” whispered Billy. “But you don’t see him very -often. Mr. Majors and Mr. Russell seem to run the plains part of the -business.” - -Mr. Waddell had been a stoutly-built man, with florid complexion and -full, heavy face inclining to jaw. Mr. Majors was almost his opposite, -being a rather tall man, although strongly built, with a kindly, sober -face and a long brown beard. As Billy and Dave approached his desk he -glanced up. - -“How do you do, Mr. Majors?” said Billy, hat in hand. - -“How are you, Billy?” - -“This is my friend Dave Scott, Mr. Majors. He’s looking for a job. He’s -been staying at my house since we came in last month with Lew Simpson’s -train from Laramie. I’m going out again in a day or so, and he wants to -get to work. We saw Mr. Russell up at the fort, and he said for us to -come down here to see you.” - -“When did you see him?” queried Mr. Majors crisply. - -“We just come from him. He thought there might be a job of herding -open.” - -“That boy’s pretty young.” - -“He’s not any younger than I was when I started in, Mr. Majors.” Billy -spoke like a man, and Mr. Majors appeared to regard him as a man. - -“Where are your parents?” asked Mr. Majors of Davy. - -Dave gulped. - -“I haven’t any. I was with my uncle.” - -“Where’s he?” - -Davy shook his head and gulped again. Billy helped him out. - -“The Injuns struck their wagon on the trail and wiped them out, Mr. -Majors. The Cut Nose band had Dave, and he came into our train after -that mule fort fight. He made good with us; Lew Simpson and Wild Bill -and George Woods and everybody will say that; and he’ll make good -anywhere you put him, I believe.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Majors, “if he has no folks that’s a different matter. -I don’t want to encourage any boy to leave his home when he ought to be -going to school, and getting the right bringing up generally. It’s a -rough life for a boy or man either out on the plains. Do you swear?” he -demanded, suddenly. - -Dave stammered. - -“I don’t mean to. I don’t think I do.” - -“That’s right,” asserted Mr. Majors. “I won’t have anybody around or -working for our company who blasphemes or lies. I won’t have it at all. -There’s no sense in swearing. All right then. I can put you at herding, -if you really want to work. We’ll pay you twenty-five dollars a month, -the same as we pay all herders. Got a horse?” - -“No, sir,” said Davy. - -“That doesn’t matter. We’ll furnish you a mount, of course. You can -have the one that other herder’s using. I hope you’ll make a better -herder than most of the others. Herding is a business just like any -other business, my boy. Whatever you do, do well. If you make a good -herder, we’ll give you a chance at something more. Nearly everybody -has to start in at herding. Billy here did. Now he’s drawing full pay -with the wagon trains. He’ll tell you what to do. You can sign the pay -roll and start in this afternoon. Mr. Meyers,” and Mr. Majors addressed -his book-keeper, “have this boy sign the pay roll and the pledge. He’s -going on herd, with the cattle out west of town.” - -“Yes, Mr. Majors,” answered the book-keeper, opening a large book. -“Come over here, boy.” - -Davy thought this rather sudden, but made no comment. He walked boldly -over to the book-keeper. - -“Sign here,” bade Mr. Meyers, indicating with his finger. And Davy -wrote, in his best manner: “David Scott.” - -“Here’s something else,” bade the book-keeper. “Better read it. We all -have to sign it, if we work for the company.” - -Davy read the slip. It said: - -“While I am in the employ of Russell, Majors & Waddell, I agree not to -use profane language, not to get drunk, not to gamble, not to treat -animals cruelly, and not to do anything else that is incompatible with -the conduct of a gentleman. And I agree, if I violate any of the above -conditions, to accept my discharge without any pay for my services.” - -Mr. Majors had strolled over, to inspect, as Davy signed. He nodded. - -“I’m glad to see you can write, my boy,” he said. “That’s more than -some of the men can do. Billy here had to make his mark the first time -he signed with us.” - -“He can write now, though,” informed Davy, loyally, remembering the -scribbling on the wagon. “I’ve seen him.” - -“Yes, Billy’s found out that he’s no worse off for having put in some -time at school. He’ll be glad enough of all the school that he can get -before he’s gone much farther. Have you got bedding, my boy?” - -“N-no, I haven’t,” faltered Davy. “Maybe I can find some though.” - -“We can rake up a quilt or two for you,” offered Mr. Majors. But Billy -spoke quickly. - -“No; we’ll fix him out with bedding. We’ve some extra quilts at the -house, Mr. Majors. I’ll get them on our way out.” - -“Can you go out with him, Billy, and tell him what to do? Number two -herd is out six miles. You can find it. Stop at the fort and tell Mr. -Russell to furnish him a mule.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“All right. You take him and post him.” Mr. Majors extended his hand -to Davy, who shook with him. “Do your duty, and a little more whenever -you have the chance; don’t curse, don’t learn to drink, keep Sunday as -much as you can, read the Bible, and look people in the face. Don’t do -anything your mother wouldn’t want you to do. I hope to hear a good -report of you. We need the right kind of men in the west, and the boy -like you will make the man of to-morrow.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Davy. “I’ll try.” - -He followed Billy out; and they remounted their ponies. - -“Good,” remarked Billy, as they rode away up the thronged street. -“Mr. Majors is a queer sort, but he’s the right stuff. He’s a crank -on swearing and drinking. We all have to sign that pledge, and if he -hears a man swearing he goes straight to him and makes him quit. But -everybody likes Mr. Majors, and they all try to keep the pledge. Mr. -Russell isn’t so strict, though he backs up Mr. Majors. That’s a new -wrinkle to the plains――that pledge business.” - -Davy nodded. - -“There’s no sense in swearing, anyhow,” mused Billy. “Jiminy, but my -mother hated to have me start out bull whacking. It’s a tough life, -and some of the teamsters, too, are about as tough as you make ’em. -Ma saw Mr. Russell and Mr. Majors and they talked with her and said -they’d look out for me: and she read the pledge, and so she let me go. -Lew Simpson is a hard looker, you know. She didn’t like him until she -found out from Mr. Russell that he wasn’t half as bad as he seemed. I’m -mighty glad I’m here to post you on that herding business. It’s no easy -job herding a thousand cattle. But you’ll make good. All you have to do -is to tend to your job. Mother’ll fix you up with bedding, and if you -need any clothes that we haven’t got, you can get them on the company -account and they’ll take it out of your pay. See?” - -So, Billy chatting and Davy listening, they trotted along on the road -up to the fort. - -Mr. Russell was still at the quartermaster’s building busy loading a -bull train and checking it up. Billy reported to him, and he nodded. - -“All right,” he said. “On your way out you tell Buck Bomer to give you -a mule from his outfit.” - -They found Buck in the wagon camp outside the fort. He turned over to -them a little mouse-colored mule, with a rawhide bridle and an old -stock saddle. The bridle had rope lines and the saddle was worn and -ragged, and the saddle-blanket was a piece of sacking. Altogether the -equipment looked rather sorry, but Davy said not a word. He made up his -mind that he would be better than his outfit. - -“You don’t care,” consoled Billy. “It’s good enough as a starter. If -you need better you’ll get it after a while. We’ll stop at the house, -and get the other stuff. Then we’ll go on. I know where the herd is.” - - - - -VI - -DAVY HAS AN ADVENTURE - - -At least a thousand cattle were spread out, grazing in the grassy -bottom. Much of the grass was still green, some patches had been cured -by the sun; and the broad expanse, under the blue sky, with the shadows -of the cattle now clearly cast by the setting sun, made a pleasant -picture. On the edges of the grazing herd were the herders, sitting -their horses or mules. The canvas top of the mess wagon shone white -beyond the herd. Down the hill into the valley, and up the opposite -hill, out of the valley, were toiling slowly two emigrant trains of -wagons and people, following the Overland Trail into the farther west. - -“We’ll go over to the mess wagon and I’ll introduce you; then I’ll skip -back,” said Billy. “Stand in with the cook, do what the boss tells you, -mind your own business, and you’ll get along fine. Don’t be fresh, -that’s all.” - -Davy resolved that he would remember. He wanted to be a success. - -On their mounts they galloped across the turfy bottom, and rounding -the herd arrived at the mess wagon. Smoke was already rising from the -cook’s fire; and the cook himself was moving about, from wagon to -fire, and fussing with his row of black kettles, set beside the fire or -atop the coals. The fire had been made in a long shallow trench. The -pots had covers on them. Their steam smelled good. - -The cook merely glanced up as the two boys approached. Halting and -dismounting nimbly, Billy hailed him. - -“Hello, Sam.” - -The cook now paused and gazed. He was a short, pudgy man, with a big -bristly moustache and a broken nose. He wore a wide brimmed hat and a -floursack apron, and boots. Odd enough he looked, cooking at the fire. - -“Hello, Billy. What’s the matter?” - -“Nothing much. Sam, this is Dave Scott, a friend of mine. He’s going on -herd. Dave, shake hands with Sam Bean, the best cook on the plains.” - -Davy advanced and shook hands with Sam. - -“Shucks,” mused Sam, surveying Dave. “Another kid, is it? Who sent him -out; the old man?” - -“Yes; Mr. Majors. Mr. Russell, too.” - -“Well,” said Sam, proceeding with his cooking, “I hope he’s a better -kid than that other one we’ve had. That lad was no good. All he thought -of was eatin’ an’ sleepin’.” - -“Davy’ll make good, all right,” assured Billy, loyally. “I’ll back him -up on that. He came in with us in Lew Simpson’s train.” - -“He’s the kid who left his shirt to the buffalo?” queried Sam. - -“You bet,” answered Billy. - -“Huh!” grunted Sam, now surveying Davy with new interest and a little -respect. - -“Where’s the boss?” asked Billy. - -“Comin’,” said Sam, with jerk of his head. - -A horseman was galloping in from the herd; but part way he whirled, and -went back again. - -“That’s Hank Bassett, isn’t it?” asked Billy, keen eyed. “He’s a good -one, Dave. He’ll treat you right if you don’t get fresh. Well, I reckon -I’ll light out. I’ll leave you with Sam. See you later.” - -He shook hands with Dave and climbed on his pony. - -“Where you bound, Billy?” queried Sam. - -“Going out again Thursday with Buck Bomer to Laramie.” - -“Good luck.” - -“Same to you,” replied Billy, and rode away. Looking back once, he -waved his hand; Sam and Dave waved answer. - -“Might as well unpack your mule an’ lay out your beddin’,” advised Sam, -gruffly, to Dave. “Wouldn’t unsaddle yet, though. Wait till the boss -comes in. Tie your mule to a wagon wheel.” - -Davy promptly set about it; he unpacked his bedding, and tied his mule. - -“If you’re not too busy,” quoth Sam, sarcastically, “you might fetch -me in some more buffalo chips, if you can find ’em. There ought to be -some, out a ways, if those blamed emigrants ain’t cleaned ’em up. It’s -a wonder to me how far they’ll go lookin’ for fuel. Here, take a sack.” -And he tossed an old gunny sack at Davy. “Jest pile ’em on it; don’t -stop to stuff ’em inside.” - -Davy alertly seized the sacking, and started out. He knew what buffalo -chips were: the dried droppings of the buffalo that used to roam by -thousands through the valley. They had been driven out of it, largely -by the traffic, but they had left their wallows and their “chips.” - -The chips had been well gleaned for other cooks, and he must wander -some distance from the wagon before he found enough to pay for the -picking up. However, in due time he returned with all that the sack -could hold. The buffalo chips made a fine fire, with little smoke -and much heat. And they were easy and cheap. Everybody used them in -travelling across the plains. - -Sam grunted, whether pleased or not, as Davy dumped the load by the -fire. - -“Now fetch me some fresh water from the creek, will you?” bade Sam. -“There’s a bucket.” - -The creek was a side branch of the Salt Creek, and both streams were -running low; but Davy managed to dip the bucket almost full of water. -He brought it back. Sam grunted what might have been thanks or not. - -“There comes the boss,” he said. - -The man on the white horse was galloping in again; presently he -dismounted at the fire. He was a tall man, with scraggy beard, gray -eyes and a very tanned skin. He wore slouch hat, blue flannel shirt, -jeans trousers and boots. He glanced keenly at Dave. - -“Here’s another kid for you to break in, Hank,” informed the cook -shortly. - -“How’d you get here?” demanded Hank of Dave. - -“Billy Cody fetched him out,” said the cook, over his shoulder, from -the wagon. - -“Who sent him?” - -“Mr. Russell and Mr. Majors told me to come out and help herd,” -answered Davy, speaking for himself. - -“Did you ever herd before?” - -“No, sir; except with an emigrant train. I herded horses and cattle -there some.” - -“Have you crossed the plains?” - -“Just part way.” - -“He’s the kid the Injuns had when they corralled Simpson and Woods and -little Billy, out near Cedar Bluffs last summer,” reported Sam the -cook. “Billy says he’s all right.” - -“Well, he’s a different color, anyhow,” remarked Hank, referring to -Davy’s red head. “How old are you?” - -“Ten going on ’leven,” replied Davy. - -“What’s your name?” - -“David Scott. Billy and the others call me ‘Red.’” - -“Got any folks?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Injuns wiped ’em out,” informed Sam the cook. “Remember?” - -Hank nodded. - -“Yes. All right,” he continued, in tone more kindly, to Dave; “you can -help the cook to-night. In the morning you can go on herd, and see -if you can hold the job. That red thatch ought to give you plenty of -spunk, anyhow!” - -“Yes, sir,” said Davy, encouraged. - -Two herders came in for supper, leaving one on guard over the herd. -They were rough-appearing men, and Davy and his red head had to take -considerable banter and joking. He stood that well. He tried not to -be “fresh” or impertinent; and when he didn’t know what he ought to -say he said nothing and only grinned. After a while the men seemed to -accept him as a pretty good kind of a boy. The fact that Billy Cody had -vouched for him was a great help. - -That night Davy slept on the ground again (as he had slept when with -the wagon trains), rolled in his quilts, his saddle for a pillow. -Breakfast was called before sunrise; and after breakfast he went out on -herd. - -“You’ll be eight hours on and four off,” instructed Hank, “except when -you ride in for meals. Tend to business and don’t bother the cattle -except when they’re straying. They’re here to rest and get their flesh -on. When they stray too far turn ’em back, but don’t run ’em. I suppose -Billy told you about what to do, didn’t he?” - -“Yes, sir; he told me to look out for Indians and emigrants passing -through.” - -There were two herders for the herd to which Davy was appointed. Davy -thought that he was lucky in his partner, whose name was the Reverend -Benjamin Baxter. When the other men had called him “Reverend,” Davy -thought they were joking; but he found out that Mr. Baxter actually -was a minister of the gospel. He was a pleasant-faced, thin young man, -with dark eyes and hollow cheeks, and an occasional cough. Evidently he -was out on the plains for his health. His home was Massachusetts; but -in his plains garb and his tan he looked as much of a Westerner as any -Missourian. Yes, Davy was lucky to be paired off with Mr. Baxter, who -had been well educated and whom everybody seemed to like because, while -he was a “preacher” he was also much of a man. - -“You ride around your half of the herd and I’ll ride around my half, -Davy,” said Mr. Baxter. “When we’re about to meet we’ll turn back. Take -things easy. You don’t have to ride every minute, you know; just enough -to keep the cattle from straying out where they’re liable to get out of -sight or be picked up by somebody passing. I’ll let you know when it’s -time to go in for dinner.” - -The herding did not strike Davy as hard work, except that it was rather -monotonous and steady. It was more interesting at first than later. The -cattle, spread out loosely over a wide area, required considerable of -a ride along their edges. They were all work cattle――steers or oxen, -young and old, used for hauling the wagons of the Russell, Majors & -Waddell “bull trains.” Some were decrepit, worn out in the hard service -across the plains; others were yet strong, and needed only rest and -feed. In the beginning Davy bestirred himself more than was required; -he was so afraid lest any of them might stray too far. Soon he was -sharp enough to note that as long as they were only grazing, and he -could keep his eyes on them, the stragglers might be permitted to -have a little freedom to pick the best grass. In fact, the whole herd -constantly shifted ground, gradually moving on from clump to clump and -patch to patch. - -About the middle of the morning Mr. Baxter’s first shift of eight hours -was up, and another herder relieved him. - -“Now I’ll take a sleep,” he called back, gaily, to Dave as he galloped -for the wagon. “Have to sleep when we can, you know.” - -Davy continued his herding with the new partner――who was gruff and -silent, very different from Mr. Baxter. However, that made little -difference, for herding did not give much chance to gossip. - -At noon Davy was sent in for his turn at dinner; and when his four -hours recess arrived he was glad to dismount at the wagon and lie in -the shade. After he had served half the night on night guard and had -not made any mistakes, when he crawled in, in the chill and dark, under -his quilts, and settled for his short sleep, he felt like a veteran. - -So the days and nights passed, of long hours in the saddle and short -hours afoot. The bull herd moved from pasturage to pasturage, with Sam -and his mess wagon keeping handy. The days were sunny fall, the nights -were crisp, the air pure except for the dust stirred up by the hoofs of -the herd or sometimes drifting from the great trail, the cattle gave -little trouble, the mess food was plenty although about the same every -meal, and herding on the plains proved not such a disagreeable business -as might have been expected. - -The chief annoyance was the rattlesnakes――although Sam and Hank and -several others claimed that the emigrants and the cattle had cleaned -about all the snakes out. However, on his first day Davy rode over two, -and scarcely a day passed that he did not see three or four. He was -told that he must not let one bite his mule, for mules often died from -snake bite. Horses and cattle seemed stronger; anyway, the cattle of -the bull herd seemed to be what Mr. Baxter called “snake educated”; -Davy could tell from their movements that a rattlesnake was near them. - -The most interesting part of herding was the sight of the travel on -the great Overland Trail. The Trail entered the Salt Creek Valley by -a hill on the east and left it by a hill on the west; and at any hour -of the day the white-topped wagons of emigrant train and freight train -could be seen descending and crossing and ascending, some bound to -Leavenworth, but the majority bound westward for the plains trip. - -Where they all were going Davy used to wonder. It seemed as though -everybody from the East was moving into the far West. Of course, some -of the emigrants were bound for western Kansas, where in Arapahoe -County, at the base of the Rocky Mountains, people were seeking -for gold. Some were hoping to take up farms in Kansas. Others were -aiming for the Salt Lake region, where the Mormons under Brigham -Young had settled. And others were bound clear across the continent -to California for gold and for land. And many did not know exactly -where they were going, except that they were moving west, ever west, -to found new homes. The freight trains of the great Russell, Majors & -Waddell Company were carrying government stores to Fort Kearney, in -Nebraska, and Fort Laramie, also of Nebraska, on the North Platte, -and Fort Bridger, in Utah, and Salt Lake, where troops had been sent -last winter. The dusty trail, bordered by camps old and new, and by -abandoned pots and pans and boxes and clothing and deserted skeletons -of cattle and horses, was never vacant, night or day. Whenever the -herding business led Davy near to it he viewed it with wonder. - -Herding took all of Davy’s time. Occasionally Hank Bassett went -into Leavenworth, and occasionally the other men rode in――all but -Mr. Baxter. He and Davy stayed out. The weather continued clear and -pleasant, with the days soft and sunny, and the nights crisp and still. -Nobody paid much attention to Davy now, for he was proving a good -herder, and was accepted as a member of the herding mess. He was as -hard as nails, everything he ate tasted good, long hours on mule back -did not stiffen him, and he thought that he knew every steer in the big -herd. - -One big steer he especially watched. It was a large red and white -steer, with a sore hoof which did not heal. Every now and again a -portion of the herd was separated and driven in to Fort Leavenworth -for another trip across the plains; and new bunches took their places, -to rest up again. But the old red and white steer stayed. He was foot -sore, but he also was a wanderer, for he loved to stray. Several times -during each day he would edge out farther and farther, leading some of -his cronies; and in due time Davy must ride in front of him and turn -him back. He was a pesky animal, and caused much trouble; the third -herder wanted him killed, but Davy and Mr. Baxter only laughed and kept -persuading Hank to save him. After all, he was only a steer, with a -mind of his own. Maybe he would get well. Davy rather hoped that he -wouldn’t; he seemed to have such a good time, and the worked cattle -were so gaunt and scarred when they returned from their long, hard -trips. - -Now it was November of 1858. The days were shorter, the nights were -colder, the grass was failing, and Indian summer was about to end. -Soon the herds would be taken off the plains, for the snow was due and -there would not be enough feed. One day Mr. Baxter was ill in camp; the -other herder was off, and Davy found himself left on herd alone for a -brief time. This he did not mind. He felt capable of handling the herd -himself. So he slowly rode around and around, occasionally halting for -a survey of the landscape. - -This week the herd had drifted farther than usual from the trail and -from the settlements, to the very edge of the Salt Creek Valley, where -in numerous pockets amidst low hill the grass was still abundant. Davy -never understood exactly how it happened, but all of a sudden he missed -the red and white lame ox. His eyes ran rapidly over the herd, seeking -the old fellow. The red and white ox was a “marker”; when he was -present then the chances were that the herd was holding together, but -when he was absent then something must be done at once. - -Well, he was absent; he was not even in sight. This meant that probably -he had led off a dozen or so followers. From his mule Davy cast keen -gaze over the herd and over the surrounding rolling country. - -“Gwan!” he ordered to his mouse-colored mule, and striking into a -gallop he set off on a wide circle. - -From the top of the nearest rise he saw nothing moving. But the top of -the second gave him a wide view――and he saw something of much interest. -There, about half a mile from him, and out in the open, was a line of -moving dots. He made out the red and white steer――he recognized the -color and the limp. At least a dozen other cattle were with him. They -were strung out in a little group; and behind, several horsemen were -driving them. Yes, actually driving them! Indians! Indians were driving -off a bunch of strays! - -Davy’s heart skipped a beat and suddenly thumped violently. But he -didn’t sit looking long. Not he. He knew what Billy Cody would do, -and he knew what any herder with spunk would do. He clapped his heels -against his mule and away he went straight for the Indians. - -They might be Kickapoos. Kickapoos from the reservation frequently -visited the cattle camps to beg for food and clothes; and many of -them would carry off more than was given to them. A sick steer was -their especial delight. They picked up strays, too, when they could. -So likely enough these Indians were Kickapoos. Davy was not afraid of -Kickapoos, although, of course, any Indian might be surly when he had -the advantage. - -On galloped Davy, urging his mule. The Indians had seen him, for they -tried to quicken their pace; but the lame steer held them back. Good -for the lame steer, who could not travel fast! So Davy rapidly drew -nearer. - -As he approached he made up his mind that these were not Kickapoos. -They wore blankets like any Indians, but their hair was not worn like -that of Kickapoos, whose hair was combed back smoothly. And they were -not Osages――another reservation tribe of Kansas. The hair of the Osages -was roached like a rooster’s comb. No; by their braids and by the way -they rode these were Cheyennes or Sioux! Whew! That was bad. - -They did not even glance around as Davy rode upon them. Still at a -gallop he rode around them, and whirling short, bravely throwing up his -hand, halted squarely in the path. The baker’s dozen of steers (there -were thirteen of them) bunched and stopped, panting. The Indians stared -fixedly at Davy; two of them rode forward. - -Yes, they were Cheyennes, except one Sioux; and the leader was Tall -Bull! - -“What are you doing with those cattle?” demanded Davy. - -“Go. Our cattle,” grunted Tall Bull. - -“They aren’t, either,” retorted Davy. “They’re my cattle from that herd -yonder.” - -“No,” denied Tall Bull, angrily; his companion’s eyes were blazing. -Davy felt them, and the hot eyes of the four other Indians, in the -rear. “You go. Our cattle.” - -“Where’d you get them, then?” demanded Davy. - -“Buy ’em. Take ’em an’ eat ’em. Puckachee! (Get out!)” - -“Puckachee yourself,” answered Davy, now angry. “You can’t have ’em. -I take ’em back. Savvy? They belong to Russell, Majors & Waddell. See -that brand?” - -The two Indians grunted one to another. The Indians behind called in -their own language. - -“Get out of the way,” ordered Davy, boldly. “Gee, Buck! Whitey! -Gee-haw!” - -The cattle began to turn; but Tall Bull interposed by reining his pony -and forcing them around again. - -“No whoa-haws; ours. Buy ’em. How much?” - -“Can’t sell ’em. Whoa-haw cattle. Gee, Buck! Get out of the way, you -two.” - -“Give one. Give one, take rest.” - -“No!” stormed Davy, stoutly. “None.” - -The Indians all were armed with bows and arrows. Suddenly the old -Indian with Tall Bull strung his bow like lightning, fitted arrow to -string, and Davy found the steel head quivering on taut string within -six inches of his chest. The black eyes of the Indian glared into his, -the swarthy face was fierce with a scowl of hatred. - -Davy did not dare to move; even if he had had a gun or pistol he could -not have used it. The arrow would have been through him before he -could pull trigger. There he must sit, waiting for the string to be -released. His flesh in front of the arrow point shrank and stung, as -if already the keen point had driven into it. If the Indian’s finger -should slip――! - -Half a minute passed; it seemed to Davy like an hour. Tall Bull spoke -again. - -“Two; give two,” he urged meaningly. “Take rest.” - -[Illustration: “TWO; GIVE TWO,” HE URGED, MEANINGLY. “TAKE REST”] - -Davy shook his head. He felt white and queer, but his mind was made up. - -“No,” he answered, trying to speak naturally, but suspecting that his -voice was rather shaky. “None.” - -The arrow head was still at his breast; the Indian’s bow was still -stretched taut until it quivered with the strain; the Indian’s eyes -glared, his face scowled. Davy did not glance aside. He was afraid to. - -“One,” now urged Tall Bull. “Boy give one, or mebbe boy die an’ lose -all.” - -Davy shook his head. - -“No.” - -Now another Indian rode forward. With the corner of his eye Davy saw -that he was the Sioux. The Sioux spoke to the two Cheyennes; they -grunted answer, and the bow of the old warrior slowly relaxed, as if it -hated to. - -The Sioux extended his hand to Davy. He was a young buck, and good -looking, with a sober cast of features. - -“How, cola? (How do you do, friend?)” he said; and Davy shook hands -with him. “All right. Brave boy. You go. Take cattle. Goodby.” - -“Goodby,” said Davy. He promptly turned the lame steer aside and the -others followed. He did not delay a moment. Would the Indians try to -stop him again? No; they let him work. Driving the steers he started -on the back trail, past the three Indians in the rear. Every moment he -expected to feel an arrow plump into him between his shoulders; but he -did not even look around. He attended to business. When at last he did -look around, the six Indians were riding along at a jog. Davy quickened -his pace, and when he arrived with his little bunch at the herd he was -glad indeed. - -He had proved his mettle. He felt that nobody would have done better. - - - - -VII - -DAVY CHANGES JOBS - - -The Reverend Mr. Baxter came on herd soon; and Davy told him about the -Indians. - -“You might have let them go, Davy,” said Mr. Baxter, “and nobody would -have blamed you.” - -“Yes, sir; but I couldn’t,” answered Davy. - -“Well,” mused Mr. Baxter, gazing at him with a rueful smile, “I don’t -believe I could either. But lots of fellows would. Six armed Indians -are rather many for one unarmed boy to tackle. But right makes might, -Davy.” - -“Yes,” agreed Davy. “I guess it does.” - -Anyway, Hank Bassett and Sam the cook and the other men in the camp -congratulated Davy on his spunk, until he wished that Billy Cody was -there to know. But Billy was out with the bull train, and nobody might -say when he would turn up again at this end of the trail. - -“I guess I’ll send you in with a part of the herd to-morrow, Red,” -quoth Hank, as if that were a reward for Davy’s pluck. “How’d you like -to see Leavenworth again?” - -“First-rate, Mr. Bassett,” answered Davy. - -“You and the Reverend can drive a bunch in as soon as we cut ’em out -in the morning. Then you’d better report at the office. I don’t think -we’ll need you out here till spring.” - -That was good word――at least, the Leavenworth trip was. Davy felt as -though he would be glad to see people and buildings again and mingle -with the world. Besides, he would be paid off at last, and would have a -pocket full of money well earned. - -“All right, Davy,” spoke Mr. Baxter, with a grin. “We’ll take in the -sights and buy a suit of clothes to boot, won’t we!” - -Davy nodded happily. - -The herd had drifted near to the great trail again, so he and Mr. -Baxter drove their bunch along that route for the fort where they were -to be delivered to the company. Riding behind in the dust on one flank -while Mr. Baxter rode on the other, Davy felt like a veteran. - -The fort was eight miles distant, about three hours drive if they did -not hurry. The best of the steers had been cut out from the main herd, -so that without difficulty or pushing the trip might easily be made in -less than three hours. The trail was still lively, with bull trains -and overlanders making their best speed westward, to cross to their -destination before the fall storms set in. - -One outfit, drawing aside to give the cattle room, hailed Davy with -a question. It was an emigrant outfit, of a farm wagon covered with -dingy cotton-cloth hood, hauled by a yoke of oxen. A woman holding a -baby peered from the seat; a boy and girl about Davy’s age trudged -alongside, a sallow, whiskered man, walking, drove with an ox-goad, and -a younger man rode a mule. - -“How much further to the Cherry Creek gold diggin’s, young feller?” -queried the whiskered man. - -“About seven hundred miles,” answered Davy. - -“When can we see the mountings?” quavered the woman, anxiously. - -“Oh, goodness!” laughed Davy. “Not for a long time. You’ve got to cross -the plains yet.” - -“I didn’t think it was so fur,” she sighed. “Do you hear they’re -findin’ lots of gold there?” - -“You didn’t come from out thar, did you?” asked the younger man. - -“No,” said Davy. “We’ve been herding in the valley here.” - -“Keep going and you’ll arrive sometime,” called Mr. Baxter. And he and -Davy passed on. - -“That’s pretty tough, Dave,” he spoke across as they proceeded in the -one direction while the wagon proceeded in the other. “Those people -haven’t any more idea where the Cherry Creek country is than these -cattle have; but there they go, woman and baby and all. They’ll find -what seven hundred miles of ox travel means before they get through. -And then they’re liable to be disappointed.” - -“Don’t you think there’s any gold out there?” asked Davy. - -“Oh, folks have been panning out a little gold for half a dozen years, -but it hasn’t amounted to shucks. I’d rather take my chances herding -cattle. Expect we’ll know more about it soon now. A gang are out there -from Georgia, who know how to mine; and the governor sent out another -gang from Lawrence last summer, you know, to locate a town and report -back.” - -That was so. Davy was familiar with the name “Cherry Creek,” which -seemed to be a new gold region lying out at the foot of the Rocky -Mountains, near Pike’s Peak. But, like Mr. Baxter, the majority of -the herders and teamsters seemed to put little stock in it. They were -waiting to “see color,” as some of them who had been to Salt Lake and -to California put it. - -Behind, a little party of travellers eastward bound along the trail -were overtaking the herd. There were three of them mule-back, driving a -couple of pack mules. As they passed on Mr. Baxter’s side they cheered -and waved good-naturedly. - -“Hurrah for Cherry Creek!” they hallooed. “You’re heading the wrong -way, pardner.” - -“Why?” - -“Turn around and make your fortune. That’s why.” - -“Already made it,” retorted Mr. Baxter. - -“How, stranger?” - -“Herding cattle at twenty-five a month and grub. Have you made yours?” - -“Mighty near. We’ve seen gold. The Georgia crowd’s been finding it. -We’re just back from the Cherry Creek diggin’s. Thar’s plenty color -thar, we tell you.” - -“Show me some.” - -“Hain’t got it, stranger. But it’s thar. We’re goin’ back in the -spring. Better join us. Go out an’ buy lots in St. Charles City.” - -“No, sir. Buy ’em in Auraria, across the creek,” shouted another. -“Auraria’s booming; St. Charles won’t last.” - -“Thanks,” laughed Mr. Baxter. “I’ll think about it. Just now -twenty-five dollars in the pocket seems better than nothing in a hole -in the ground.” - -“Wall, you’ll miss out,” warned one of the men as the little party -pressed on in a great hurry. - -Mr. Baxter laughed and bantered all the way in to Leavenworth. - -“We want to see some of that gold before we pack up and go on a wild -goose chase, don’t we, Davy?” he called. “And I’d rather have a yoke of -steers on the hoof than a city lot on paper.” - -This sounded like wisdom; but Davy imagined what an effect the report -of those returned Cherry Creekers would have on that emigrant wagon! -The men and the woman would be looking for the mountains more eagerly -than ever. - -He and Mr. Baxter turned the bunch of cattle over to the Russell, -Majors & Waddell’s foreman at the fort, where another bull train was -being made up, loaded high with government supplies for the west. Buck -Bomer, Billy Cody’s wagon-master, had not come in yet from the Laramie -trip, and there was no news from Billy himself. He was still out. -Report said that he had gone on from Laramie to another fort, so nobody -could tell when he would be back. - -From the post Davy and Mr. Baxter rode on down to Leavenworth City. -Leavenworth never had seemed so busy. New buildings had gone up, the -streets were crowded with people and teams, and the levee was lined -with steamboats bound north and south. But the people all were bound -west. They had gathered from every quarter of the States. The twang -of the Yankee, the drawl of the backwoodsman, and soft slur of the -Southerner mingled in a regular hubbub. - -Mr. Majors was in his office; Mr. Russell was out somewhere on the -trail; Mr. Waddell was down home at Lexington, Missouri, visiting his -family. And who should be sitting in a chair in the office but Wild -Bill Hickok――as handsome and as gentlemanly as ever. - -“Hello, there,” hailed Wild Bill. “How goes it?” - -Mr. Baxter nodded cheerily at him. - -“Fine,” answered Davy, feeling rather awkward in his worn-out old -clothes and his long hair, but not ashamed of what he had been doing. - -“I hear you’re making good, boy,” asserted Wild Bill. “I reckon you can -hold your own as well as Billy.” - -“He certainly can,” claimed Mr. Baxter. “He’s the hero of the camp.” - -“Bassett sent you in, did he?” queried Mr. Majors. “How are things at -the camp?” - -“Same as usual, Mr. Majors,” answered Mr. Baxter. “Davy’s a hero now, I -suppose you’ve heard.” - -Mr. Majors nodded with his long beard. - -“So they say,” he replied simply. “Well, we’re reducing our force out -in the cattle camps now, so you two needn’t go back this fall. The -cashier’ll pay you off. And――Dick,” he continued to the cashier, “give -Davy an order for a suit of clothes with the company’s compliments. -Make it clothes, shoes and hat complete.” - -Davy blushed hotly, and didn’t know quite what to do. That the word of -his adventure with the Indians had reached the office so quickly was -very embarrassing. But he was glad to get some clothes, and Mr. Majors -had spoken in earnest, so it would have been bad taste in him to make -much ado about what he had or hadn’t done. Mr. Majors wasn’t a man to -say what he didn’t mean, or to offer more than anybody deserved. So -Davy stammered “Thank you, Mr. Majors,” and, clapped heartily on the -back by Mr. Baxter, went forward to the cashier. - -“Here you are,” said the cashier, shoving out the money and the order. -“What’s the news out yonder? Anybody booming Cherry Creek?” - -“Yes. A bunch of men who claimed they were from there passed us coming -in,” answered Mr. Baxter. “They had a big story about plenty of gold, -but we noticed they didn’t show any!” - -“Color talks,” remarked Wild Bill. “When I see color I’m going out thar -but not before.” - -“Yes, we’ll all wait a bit,” commented Mr. Majors. - -“Those new towns out there will make more freight business, Mr. -Majors,” said Mr. Baxter. - -“Shouldn’t wonder. We’re hauling down from Laramie for them now, and up -from Bent’s Fort on the Santa Fe trail. There’ll have to be a new trail -straight across, eventually. But we’ve got about all the business we -can handle. The government work alone takes thirty-five hundred wagons, -four thousand men and over forty thousand oxen. We’ve hauled over -sixteen million pounds of government freight, most of it clear through -to Utah.” - -Nearly four thousand wagons, four thousand men, forty thousand bulls! -Davy gasped. It certainly was a big company, and he was proud to be -working for Russell, Majors & Waddell, even if he was only one in the -four thousand. - -“Well,” said Mr. Majors, “I want to thank you two _men_ for your -faithful service and if there’s anything more I can do for you let me -know. Baxter, I suppose you can take care of yourself for a while. -What are you going to do, my boy?” - -“I don’t know,” said Davy, in doubt. “Get another job, I guess.” - -“Save your money. Don’t spend it foolishly. If you want to put it on -deposit with us we’ll give you a receipt for it; then you’ll be sure of -having it as you need it.” - -Davy fingered the gold pieces, making his pocket warm and heavy. There -were seven ten-dollar pieces and one five-dollar piece. He would have -liked to carry them all around for a time until he could show them to -Billy Cody or Billy’s mother. But Mr. Majors’ offer sounded sensible, -so he fished out the ten-dollar pieces and passed them over to the -cashier. - -“I’ll keep five dollars,” he said. - -“What are you and the Reverend going to do?” queried Wild Bill. “That -is, if it’s any of my business.” - -“Oh, Davy can range around with me for a while till he’s settled,” -answered Mr. Baxter. “First thing, we’ll get a hair cut. I’m going down -to St. Louis later, where I’ve got some folks.” - -“Lookee here, Davy,” pursued Wild Bill; “if you haven’t any pressing -engagement come on out to the Cody ranch with me. I’m going to ride -over thar and the Reverend can do as he pleases. The Codys will sure -be glad to see you. Mebbe you can get a job for your schooling this -winter. Thar’s a fine school opened again near the Codys, I hear.” - -“That’s right. Go to school while you can. You’ll never regret it,” -put in Mr. Majors. “Then when all this country’s settled up and you’re -among people who can read and write and figure, you won’t be ashamed. -Besides, you’ll command more wages. The school house and the church -are of more value to this country than the ox teams. The people with -schools and churches are here to stay and grow.” - -Davy wanted to see the Cody family again, but it seemed rather tame to -be going to school when he might be riding the plains. He hesitated a -moment until Mr. Baxter said: - -“Billy Cody goes to school when he’s home. He’s found out that a little -education helps a fellow along. I shouldn’t wonder if his mother turned -him into school again this winter when he gets back.” - -Since Billy Cody the “Boy Scout” went to school there must be something -in it worth while. Davy began to feel that maybe he, too, who was -a kind of hero, could afford to take a little time off from making -himself famous and attend to making himself more of an all-round man. - -“All right,” he said to Wild Bill. “I’ll go and see, anyway.” He shook -hands with Mr. Baxter, who promised to keep track of him, and left with -Wild Bill. - -Mrs. Cody and the girls and Turk the dog were glad indeed to see them. -Davy must answer all their questions as to what he had done since -he had been there last. He did not mean to say anything about his -adventure with the Indians, but Wild Bill told it and praised him, and -then there was more ado. - -“Billy’ll be pleased to hear that,” declared Mrs. Cody. And she sighed. -“I wish he were home.” - -“Have you heard from him, Mother Cody?” inquired Wild Bill. - -“He sent us word from Fort Laramie that he was going on with a train -for another post.” - -“He sent us some money, too,” cried Helen, proudly. - -“Billy’s a good boy, all right,” nodded Wild Bill. - -“I wish he were home, though,” insisted Mrs. Cody, quietly. “He ought -to have more schooling. These girls will be far ahead of him. Lack -of education will be a great handicap to him after he gets out among -cultured people.” - -“That’s what we’ve been telling Davy here,” quoth Wild Bill. “The -winter’s no time for him to be on the plains, anyway. He’d better be -going to school till things open up in the spring. Do you reckon he -could get a place hereabouts where he could work for his keep while he -went to school? ’Tisn’t a right place for a boy in Leavenworth.” - -“Why,” mused Mrs. Cody, flushing, “we’ve always got room for Davy or -any friend of Billy’s or yours, Mr. Hickok. Of course, there isn’t much -work for an extra hand. You see, when Billy left he hired a man to -tend to the farm. But if Davy’ll stay he’s welcome.” - -“Oh, Davy’ll stay!” cried the girls, dancing gaily; and Turk barked. -“You will stay, won’t you, Davy? We’ll have lots of fun.” - -But Davy promptly shook his head. - -“I think you’ve got enough,” he said. Mrs. Cody did not look at all -strong, and the girls were little. “I guess I’d rather find a place -where I can work enough to pay for my keep.” - -“Well,” resumed Mrs. Cody, “maybe you would feel more independent, -Davy, although you’re welcome to stay right here as long as you like. -But there’s a new family on a claim about a mile and a half over -yonder. The man’s sick and his wife’s doing too much work. I expect -they’d be glad of somebody to tend to the chores. You might go over and -see.” - -“Come ahead, Davy,” bade Bill. - -“You’ll be back and have supper with us and stay all night, won’t you?” -invited Mrs. Cody, quickly. - -“We’ll get Dave settled first, thank you, Mother Cody,” called back -Bill. “Then we’ll be mighty glad to stop off if we come this way.” - -“Goodby, Dave,” called the girls. “There’s a splendid school started. -We’re all going.” - -With Bill, Dave rode to the settler’s house spoken of by Mrs. Cody. -That was tremendously kind of Wild Bill, to go to so much trouble for -just a boy; but Davy found out that this Mr. Hickok was the kind of a -man who would do anything for anybody deserving it. - -The new family’s name was Shields. They were from Massachusetts. Mr. -Shields had taken up a homestead of 160 acres, and now he was miserable -with fever and ague, so that he was unable to work steadily. He and -Mrs. Shields and the baby had come by railroad to St. Louis and by -steamboat from St. Louis to Leavenworth. There they had loaded their -goods into a wagon drawn by a yoke of oxen and had settled on this -claim where they had found a cabin already standing. - -It wasn’t much of a cabin, being only twelve by eighteen feet square, -and built of logs. The floor was of rough boards with wide cracks -between them; torn muslin was stretched as a ceiling to keep the dirt -of the sod roof from sifting down. Over the walls Mrs. Shields had -pasted newspapers, right side up, so she could read them sometimes as -she worked. A muslin curtain, hung on a wire, divided the room; behind -the curtain was a bed, of poles laid on notched posts and a mattress -stuffed with hay. Clothes were hung on wooden pegs. On the other side -of the curtain was a cook stove, and a table of rough-sawed slabs, and -a couple of stools. - -No, it wasn’t much of a place for people like Mr. and Mrs. Shields, who -were used to a comfortable house in Massachusetts; but it was home. - -All this Davy found out in due time, while he worked for his board and -lodging. At night he slept on the floor by the stove; and he must rise -at daylight to milk the cow and feed the cow and the oxen and the few -chickens, and split the wood and bring the water from the well, and -make an early start for school, which was four miles away. After school -and on Saturdays he had other chores waiting, and drove the oxen while -Mr. Shields held the plough to break the sod for the spring sowing. - - - - -VIII - -THE GOLD FEVER - - -Even while Davy had been herding a change had occurred in this Salt -Creek Valley. The number of settlers seemed almost to have doubled, -and cabins and houses and ploughed fields were everywhere. Amidst them -ran the Leavenworth end of the great Overland Trail. Until after the -first snows the emigrants and settlers toiled along it, down the hill -into the valley and up the hill out of the valley; and all winter the -bull trains plodded back and forth. Weather rarely stopped the Russell, -Majors & Waddell outfits. - -Mr. DeVinne was the teacher in the school. It was the best school -yet, according to the Cody girls, because there were more pupils, and -Mr. DeVinne seemed to know how to teach. Of course the school was not -graded; it consisted of only one room, where the boys and girls sat on -long benches, with other benches for desks. The scholars ranged from -little Eliza Cody, who was six, up to big boys of twenty. The pupils -had come from all over――from Missouri, Illinois, Vermont, Carolina, -Mississippi, and the other States east and south. Davy, who had been -herding for Russell, Majors & Waddell, and had proved his pluck, felt -as big as any of them. - -Steve Gobel, who tried to be a kind of boss (when Billy Cody wasn’t -there), started in to tease Davy, who was little and red-headed. Davy -stood the teasing as long as he could; but when Steve grabbed his hair -and pulled, saying: “Here, Red! Lemme warm my fingers,” Davy flared -up. He would have fought Steve then and there, but another boy sprang -between them. - -“You’d better let him alone, Steve Gobel, or Billy Cody’ll give you -another licking.” - -“Yes, he will!” cried Helen Cody and all the girls. “He’s coming back -pretty soon now.” - -“Aw, he never licked me. He ain’t big enough,” snarled Steve. - -“Well, he’s man enough, whether he’s big enough or not,” retorted the -boys. And―――― - -“He did, too, lick you. And he’ll do it again as soon as he gets home,” -called the Cody girls, loyally. - -Steve growled, but he strolled off and after that he let Davy pretty -much alone. Davy learned that Steve had bullied Billy Cody, too――until -in a fight Billy had been made mad enough to hurt him. Billy was the -school’s hero, for he was out on the plains doing a man’s work and -helping to support his mother and sisters. Everybody liked Billy if -they knew him, or they wanted to see him if they didn’t know him. - -The cold, snowy winter of Kansas and a new West set in. The days and -nights were below zero, blizzards of wind and snow swept through -plains and valleys; and in the frontier cabins the settlers schemed -hard to keep warm. His chores at the Shields cabin and his trips to -school and back kept Davy busy; but he must make the best of his school -term, for when winter quit school would quit too. Once in a while he -stopped in at the Cody home; Mrs. Cody was putting up a large house as -a hotel and eating place for the overland travellers, particularly the -teamsters of the wagon trains. The girls named it “The Valley Grove -House.” - -Then, in February, who should appear at school but Billy himself. - -“Hurrah! There’s Billy Cody!” - -“Hello, Red!” - -“Hello, Billy.” - -“When did you get back, Billy?” asked everybody. - -“Yesterday.” - -“Where’ve you been this time?” - -“Out to Laramie and Fort Walbach at Cheyenne Pass. Been trapping on the -Chugwater, south of Laramie, too.” - -“How’d you come back? With a bull train?” - -“Nope. A couple of fellows and I started with our own pack outfit, but -the Injuns jumped us on the Little Blue, and we ran into snow, and we -mighty nigh never got through.” - -“What you going to do now, Billy?” - -“Going to school a while, I reckon.” - -And so he did. He also told Davy his adventures. He had been assistant -wagon master with Buck Bomer from Leavenworth northwest to Fort -Laramie, and from Laramie south sixty miles to new Fort Walbach. After -that he had gone trapping, but hadn’t caught much. In December he had -started home mule-back with two other “men.” The Indians had chased -them in central Kansas, and they had tried to sleep in a cave until -they found that it was strewn with skeletons; and a snowstorm had -buffeted them, but at last they had reached Leavenworth. - -This seemed considerable for a boy of fourteen to have done. Billy -brought home his wages, as usual, for his mother, and now he settled -down to school again. Davy was very glad to have him back. - -Once in a while he and Billy rode into Leavenworth on errands. As the -winter wore away rumors of the Pike’s Peak region and the Cherry Creek -gold diggings in it grew more and more numerous. A few travellers from -that western border of Kansas (for Kansas Territory extended clear to -the Rocky Mountains) arrived in Leavenworth and declared that things -out in the Pike’s Peak region were booming. Two towns, Auraria and -Denver, had been founded on Cherry Creek; and from the sands gold was -being washed out. It was claimed that the mines would equal those of -California――and they were much nearer to the States. - -Soon after Billy had come home he and Davy met Mr. Baxter on the -street in Leavenworth. Mr. Baxter looked fine, and shook hands heartily -with them. - -“What are you doing for yourselves?” he asked. - -“Going to school. What are you doing?” - -“Oh, visiting ’round, waiting for the trail to open.” - -“The green grass will sure look good,” quoth Billy, wisely. “What are -you going to do, Reverend? Bull whack?” - -“No. I think I’ll strike out for the new Cherry Creek diggings.” - -“Thought you didn’t count much on those stories,” reminded Davy. - -“I didn’t, but I do now. Just got back from Omaha. Boys, I saw six -quills full of gold there from the Pike’s Peak country. Everybody up -at Omaha is wild about it. They’re all going. The newspapers from my -home town in Massachusetts are full of gold stories. The whole East -is excited. By spring you’ll see the biggest crowd starting on the -Overland Trail since the days of Forty-nine and the California boom. -Leavenworth won’t be big enough to hold the people outfitting here.” - -“Hurrah for Cherry Creek, then!” cried Billy. “Reckon we’ll have to go, -Davy!” - -“I’ll go,” agreed Davy eagerly. - -“We’ll all go,” said Mr. Baxter. “Everybody’ll go.” - -A lean, sallow, unshaven man in jeans and flannel shirt and boots and a -huge muffler around his neck and a round fur cap on his head had been -standing near. He nodded. - -“Right you are, pards,” he put in. “That’s the place.” - -“How do you know?” queried Billy, quickly. - -“I’ve been thar, an’ now I’ve come back to tell my friends. Why, boys, -out thar all you’ve got to do is to pull up the grass by the roots an’ -shake out the gold. Pike’s Peak is solid gold, ’most. A feller can make -a flat-bottom boat an’ set knives in the hull an’ slide down, scraping -up the gold in slivers.” - -“Did you ever see that done?” demanded Mr. Baxter. - -“Not exac’ly, stranger. But I’m goin’ to do it.” - -That sounded like a tall story――although of course it _might_ be true. -Billy and Mr. Baxter put small stock in the tale; but it filled Davy’s -mind with delightful visions. He dreamed of taking a plough up Pike’s -Peak and ploughing golden furrows clear to the bottom. - -Suddenly Salt Creek Valley and all the frontier along the Missouri -River from St. Louis up to Omaha was excited. The Leavenworth papers -printed wonderful stories of the new gold fields, where miners were -washing out the precious metal. The Georgia party of miners, some of -whom were Cherokee Indians, which had outfitted at Leavenworth last -fall and had gone out by the southwest Santa Fe Trail to the mountains -and thence north to Cherry Creek, had “struck it rich,” and had sent -back the quills of gold to prove it. Already emigrants from the East -were arriving in Leavenworth, wild to push on as soon as the spring -opened. Between themselves Billy and Dave determined to join the crowd. -It was all they could do to wait. - -One day early in March Davy was making a brief call at the Cody house, -when Billy excitedly pointed from the front porch. - -“There’s the first one!” he cried. “There’s the first prairie schooner -bound for the diggings! Let’s go down and meet it!” - -Away he rushed; Davy followed, and so did the girls. Mrs. Cody stood -shading her eyes, watching. Across the valley crept a white-topped -wagon drawn by two yoke of oxen. Beside the wagon was trudging a man, -and behind followed another man pushing a two-wheeled cart. When Billy -and Dave met the outfit they saw that two women were in the big wagon; -one held a baby; on the other side of the wagon were sturdily trudging -a boy and girl. A big shaggy dog barked at Turk, and Turk growled back. - -The wagon was a farm wagon covered with the cotton hood and stuffed -with household goods. On the sides the hood bore, in scrawly black -paint: “PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST.” - -“Hello!” hailed Billy. “Where you bound?” - -“To the new diggin’s, stranger,” responded the driver of the oxen. “See -our sign?” - -“Do you live hyar’bouts?” asked the man who was pushing the -hand-cart――which also was loaded with household stuff and camp stuff. -The ox-team paused; the man pushing the hand-cart wiped his forehead -with a red handkerchief. - -“Yes; we live up yonder near the top of the hill.” - -“How long do you reckon it’ll take us to get to Cherry Creek?” pursued -the ox-team driver. - -“Two months if you keep going,” said Billy. - -“’Twon’t take as long as that, stranger,” replied the man. “We can -travel right smart.” - -“They do say you can dig out the gold with a shovel,” quavered the -woman. “We hear tell you can dig out a pound a day. Were you ever -there?” - -“No,” answered Billy. “But we’re going. Aren’t you a little early?” - -“Wall, we reckoned we’d start ’arly, an’ make our pile ’fore the other -folks got thar,” explained the driver. “Thar’s a tarnel lot o’ people -gathered behind us, an’ those that come later won’t find ’nough grass -for their critters. Gee-up, Buck! Spot! Get along with you.” - -Creaking, the wagon resumed its way. The man with the hand-cart pushed -in the wake. The mud was ankle deep, and Dave felt sorry for the whole -outfit. - -“Better stop on the hill and rest,” bade Billy. “Guess we can give you -some coffee.” - -“Nope, thank ye, stranger,” said the driver. “We’re goin’ on through.” -And he swung his whip, urging his oxen. - -Billy and Dave and the girls raced ahead; and when the wagon and the -hand-cart, with the oxen and men alike panting, toiled up hill near -the Cody house Mrs. Cody rushed out with a pail of hot coffee. But the -emigrants scarcely halted to drink it. Even the women were anxious to -proceed, as if already they saw the gold. - -“Poor things,” sighed Mrs. Cody, while the girls waved goodby to the -two children. “They’ll have a hard time.” - -But Billy and Dave watched until the “Pike’s Peak or Bust” sign was -only a blur, and the wagon a crawling dot. - -“Shucks!” said Billy. “If it wasn’t for mother and school I’d join ’em. -But I wouldn’t go by the regular Overland Trail. When we go we’ll take -the Smoky Hill trail, Dave; up the Kansas River, to Fort Riley, and on -out by the Smoky Hill branch or the Republican. That’s shorter.” - -This “Pike’s Peak or Bust” outfit was only the first of a long series -of gold-field “pilgrims” (as they were called), all enthusiastic. -And soon Leavenworth City was a sight! As Mr. Baxter had predicted, -the city was scarcely large enough to hold the new-comers. Two and -three steamboats a day arrived, loaded to the gunwales, at the levee, -bringing up from St. Louis and Kansas City Eastern and Southern -people, their teams and goods. - -The streets were thronged with the strangers, young and old, in all -kinds of costumes and of all professions――farmers, lawyers, ministers, -doctors, merchants, teachers――buying supplies and exchanging opinions. -The lodging houses and hotels and spare rooms were overflowing, and -around the city and in the vacant lots were hundreds of tents, where -were camped overland parties of men and whole families. - -A constant procession of “pilgrims” wended slow way through the -Salt Creek Valley, past the Cody home and the Shields home, and -northwestward to the main Salt Lake Overland Trail which led up the -Platte River; at the South Platte they might branch for the “diggin’s” -by a cut-off. Many of the wagon hoods bore that queer legend “Pike’s -Peak or Bust!” Some men trundled wheel-barrows, loaded, and a few were -trying to carry packs through on their backs. - -But the greatest procession went out over the new route from -Leavenworth southwest to the Kansas River; thence on to Fort Riley at -the forks, and either northwest up the Republican branch or west up -the Smoky Hill River branch. Still other people travelled by the Santa -Fe Trail――the southernmost trail of all――up the Arkansas River to the -mountains, and then north along the base of the mountains past Pike’s -Peak itself to Cherry Creek and Denver. - -Mr. Russell, of Russell, Majors & Waddell, and Mr. John S. Jones -put in a stage line to Denver by the Smoky Hill route. It was called -the “Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Company,” Jones & Russell, -Proprietors. Two stages, travelling together for protection against -the Indians, each drawn by four fine Kentucky mules and carrying six -passengers, left Leavenworth every morning for Denver, and covered -the 700 rolling miles in ten days. Soon the return stages would be -arriving, and everybody was expecting great news. It was calculated -that already 25,000 people had started for the diggings. The trails -were said to be white with the wagons and the camps. - -The streets and the levee of Leavenworth were so full of fascinating -sights that Davy took every moment he could spare from chores and -school to go in with Billy and look and listen. The best place was -in front of the Planters’ House Hotel, across the street from the -office of Russell, Majors & Waddell. Here the stages started, and here -people gathered to bid one another goodby. The conversation was most -interesting, as people on the ground called up to passengers in the -stages. - -“Send us back a sack of gold, John.” - -“Hold tight to your scalps, boys.” - -“Let us know how things are. Be sure and write.” - -“Kill a buffalo for me, Frank. I want a good big hide, remember.” - -“Leave a message for me on the top of Pike’s Peak.” - -“Look out for the ‘Rapahoes.’” - -“Goodby, goodby, old fellow.” - -“Don’t forget to give Robinson that package from his wife.” - -“Most of these people don’t know where they’re going or why,” remarked -a man near Davy, to another man. “There’ll be much suffering from this -mad rush.” - -He was a tall, slender, erect man of about thirty-five, with long -bronzed, florid face, sandy complexion and crisp, sandy beard. - -“That’s Lieutenant William T. Sherman, formerly of the Army. He’s -practising law here now with Judge Ewing,” said another man, aside, -to a companion. In a few more years he would be the famous “General -Sherman.” - -Billy Cody, too, was of the opinion that the green-horns on the trail -would meet with trouble; and in Davy’s opinion Billy ought to know. -Already reports were to the effect that the route up the Smoky Hill and -the Republican were short of grass and exposed to the Indians, and that -the emigrants were being compelled to throw away much of their baggage. - -However, this did not stop anybody from starting. Davy and Billy had -the gold fever bad. Even Mr. Shields had decided to take his wife and -baby and leave the ranch for the diggings, where he counted on making -more money in a week than he could make here in a year. So Davy only -waited on Billy, to start, himself. - -“Shucks!” exclaimed Billy, in May. “I’ve got to quit, Dave, and go on -the trail again. Mother said last night ‘All right.’ She’ll let me go. -She needs the money and I’ll send her back a lot. Come on. We’ll raise -a gang and start.” - -“When, Billy?” - -“Right away, as soon as we get the men and the outfit. This green grass -makes me restless. Got any money left, Dave? We have to buy a wagon and -team.” - -Yes, Davy had almost all his herding wages on deposit with Mr. Majors. -He was proud to say so, and to be able to pay his own way. - - - - -IX - -THE HEE-HAW EXPRESS - - -Now Billy wasted no time with the preparations. That was his style. The -Reverend Mr. Baxter, who had been ill in Leavenworth, and so had not -started before, promptly agreed to join the party. He and Billy and -Dave clubbed together with an outfit that Billy knew. These were Jim -Barber and Hi Wilson and another man called “Left-over Joe.” Jim and -Hi had been teamsters with Russell, Majors & Waddell bull trains; but -“Left-over Joe” seemed to be nobody in particular――and that is why they -nicknamed him “Left-over Joe.” - -A big emigrant outfitting camp had been established in the Salt Creek -Valley near the Cody home, and while Jim and Hi were here getting ready -to move on, this lean, lank, very long-necked hobbledehoy of squeaky -voice and nineteen or twenty years had wandered into their camp and -adopted them. So they let him stay. - -Jim and Hi had a team of mules: Billy and Dave and Mr. Baxter added an -old light wagon. The party thought themselves lucky, for oxen had risen -in price to $175 and $200 a yoke, and mules and horses were scarcer -yet. Wagons were scarce, too. - -By the time that the supplies of salty pork and beans and flour and -coffee had been laid in for “grub,” and picks and spades and gold-pans -for digging out the gold and separating it, and ammunition for killing -game and fighting Indians, Davy’s money was about gone. However, that -did not matter. They all would find gold enough to last them the rest -of their lives! - -Billy owned the Mississippi “yager” smoothbore musket and the two -Colt’s navy revolvers that he had used when in the mule fort. He gave -Davy one of the revolvers. With it belted at his waist, Davy felt like -a regular scout indeed. Hi and Jim also owned guns. Hi’s was a yager -similar to Billy’s. Jim’s was a heavy Sharp’s “Old Reliable” rifle, of -fifty calibre holding six cartridges underneath, and one in the breech. -It was a tremendously hard-shooting gun. Whoever had a Sharp’s “Old -Reliable” had the best gun on the plains. - -The Reverend Mr. Baxter had no gun at all and did not want one, he -claimed. “Left-over Joe” had no gun at all, but wanted one badly. Hi -promised to let him shoot the yager sometime. - -The Salt Creek camp was a lively place. Here were assembled a thousand -emigrants, all “Pike’s Peakers,” making ready to travel on westward and -find their fortunes. About every kind of an outfit was to be seen, and -all sorts of people. Many of the men never had driven oxen or mules -before; they had bought what they could get; some of the animals proved -not to be broken to drive, and when the green-horns tried to hitch up -the green “critters” then there was fun for the onlookers. - -However, nobody was delaying to watch the “fun.” By the hundred, -parties were setting out every day from the camp as well as from -Leavenworth. Thousands of gold-seekers already had left Omaha and -Kansas City and St. Joseph. It was reported that along any of the -trails a person could walk from the Missouri River to the Rocky -Mountains on the tops of the prairie schooners――so thick was the -travel. It beat the celebrated stampede to California in 1849. - -There were four trails to the “diggin’s.” The two best known were the -Santa Fe Trail, on the south, which followed up the Arkansas River -in southern Kansas, to the mountains, and then turned north for the -gold fields; and the big Salt Lake Overland Trail, on the north, which -from the Missouri River followed up the Platte River, until in western -Nebraska the gold hunters turned south for Pike’s Peak. Omaha and -St. Joseph were the outfitting points for this northern trail, and -Leavenworth traffic struck it by the government road which ran through -Salt Creek Valley on into the northwest. The Russell, Majors & Waddell -“bull trains” hauled their freight over this route. - -The other two trails were new central trails, made especially for -the Pike’s Peak rush. One trail followed up the Republican River -through southern Nebraska; the other followed up along the Smoky Hill -Fork River, through central Kansas. Emigrants coming in by St. Joseph -were taking either the Salt Lake and California Overland route or the -Republican route; the emigrants outfitting at Leavenworth and the Salt -Creek Valley were taking the Smoky Hill route or else the Overland -Trail route. - -By the Overland Trail (the Salt Lake and California Trail) it was -accounted 580 miles from Omaha to the diggin’s; and the Pike’s Peak -Guide-book recommended that trail. But from Leavenworth it was 100 -miles further, and the Smoky Hill Trail was said to be the straightest -and the shortest. The Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Company stages -had chosen that route. - -“I reckon that’s the route for us,” said Hi. “I hear we can follow the -Smoky clear to the mountains, and have water all the way.” - -“When the first stage comes back we’ll know more about it, but we can’t -wait,” mused the Reverend Mr. Baxter. - -“Oh, we’ll get through,” spoke Billy, quickly. “And the sooner we start -the better, before all the grass and fuel are used up. Look at the -people, will you, pulling out every day!” - -“Do you think one wagon will be enough to bring back our gold?” -squeaked Left-over, anxiously. “I don’t want to quit till I get a -million dollars’ worth for myself alone.” - -“Then what’ll you do, Left-over?” asked Jim, with a wink at the rest. - -Left-over Joe scratched his long freckled neck and looked like a -chicken. - -“I’d buy a gun and have all the pie I wanted, too,” he declared -foolishly. - -Now everything had been made ready. The night before the start Billy -and Dave spent in camp with the rest of the party. Mr. Shields and -family had gone; their log cabin was empty, their claim abandoned -again. If they had stayed they could have made lots of money selling -produce to the emigrants; but they, like the thousands of others, -wished to get rich quick. - -This last evening in the Salt Creek emigrant camp the party elected -their officers. Hi was chosen captain or wagon-master, Billy was -chosen lieutenant or assistant, Mr. Baxter volunteered to cook, and -“Left-over” was appointed “cavarango” or herder of the two mules. This -left Jim and Davy for the general work of march and camp. - -With the provisions and bedding and mining tools and other stuff the -wagon was well loaded for two mules to haul across the plains; so it -was decided that all the party except the driver must walk. They would -take turns driving and riding; and after the mules were well broken in -and the trail was rougher then probably nobody would ride. - -“I reckon we ought to make twenty miles a day, with mules,” quoth -Billy, wisely. “But those oxen the other folks are using won’t make -more than twelve or fifteen miles a day. Some of ’em are liable to be -sixty days on the road.” - -“Well, we’ll be lucky if we get through in thirty,” said Mr. Baxter. -“It will be nearer forty.” - -“Do we have to walk forty days?” squealed “Left-over.” - -“That’s nothing to a bull whacker,” said Hi, gruffly. “I’ve walked -clean from Leavenworth to Salt Lake and back again.” - -“So have I,” nodded Jim. “That’s twelve hundred miles each way――and -most of it up-hill, too!” - -The Smoky Hill Fork trail was to be struck at Fort Riley, 132 miles -southwest from Leavenworth. Here the Smoky Hill Fork and the Republican -Rivers joined to form the Kaw or Kansas River. Settlements extended to -Fort Riley and a short distance beyond; but after that the country was -the “Indian Country.” - -“Lookee here,” suddenly exclaimed Billy Cody, that last night before -the start, when everybody was under blankets and almost asleep. “We’ve -got to have a name painted on our wagon.” - -“Can’t we travel anonymous?” queried the Reverend Mr. Baxter, sleepily. - -“I dunno what that means but it sounds pretty good,” spoke Hi. “Can you -spell it?” - -“Oh,” chuckled Mr. Baxter, “that doesn’t mean anything.” - -“Huh!” grumbled Hi. “I thought it was an animile like a hippopotamus, -mebbe.” - -When the camp turned out at sunrise Billy had already been up, and on -the wagon hood he had painted, with the stick and tar-pot used for -greasing the wagon, the title: “HEE-HAW EXPRESS.” So, amidst laughter, -the Hee-Haw Express it was which, soon after sun-up, joined the -procession that, anew each day, filed out for the long trail to Pike’s -Peak. - -The Hee-Haw Express, being mule-power, travelled faster than many of -the other outfits. The road certainly presented a series of strange -sights, as if everybody had thrown together whatever he could and -was hastening from a fire or a plague. The Hee-Haw Express, at amble -and fast walk, with Hi driving and his partners trudging as fast as -they were able beside, gradually passed men with packs, men pushing -handcarts and wheel-barrows, crippled ox teams, next an ox and a cow -harnessed together, next a mule and an ox harnessed together; and so -forth and so forth, all in the dust and the shouting and the rumbling -and creaking and whip cracking. - -Almost all the other “Pike’s Peak pilgrims” passed by the Hee-Haw -Express waved and shouted their greetings. - -“Trade you my wheel-barrow for a mule.” - -“You must be in a rush, strangers.” - -“What’s the fare?” - -To this Billy answered gaily: - -“Regular stage rates. Twenty-five cents a mile or hundred dollars to -the mountains.” - -For that was what the Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Company charged. - -Many of the other wagons also bore signs. “Pike’s Peak or Bust!” -“Noah’s Ark!” “Root Hog or Die!” “Pike’s Peak Special!” “Bound For -the Diggin’s!”――thus ran some of the lines to be noted as the Hee-Haw -Express sturdily pressed forward. - -That night the road was one continuous camp, with fires glowing and -canvas glimmering as far as the eye could see in either direction. -Parties visited back and forth, men and women exchanged news and views, -children played in the firelight shadows, babies cried, dogs barked, -and not until after nine o’clock was the trail quiet enough so that -nervous persons might sleep. However, Davy was not nervous; and from -the snores he might judge that Billy and the rest were not nervous -either. - -The next day the Hee-Haw Express started early, and was on the road -even before sun-up. Billy and Hi and all were anxious to pass Fort -Riley and strike the Smoky Hill Fork as soon as possible, and in -advance of as many of these “pilgrims” as possible. The only excitement -of this day was a sudden cheer adown the line and a craning of necks -and waving of hands. Before, from the west, were approaching two -vehicles――by the looks of them, and by the four mules, stages, both! - -And two stages they proved to be, as, skirting the procession of -“pilgrims,” they dashed along, bound for Leavenworth. The first bore -a lot of bright bunting and streamers, and on its sides a banner that -said: “Greetings from the Gold Mountains of Kansas.” By its dusty -appearance and the appearance of its driver and passengers, this coach -evidently had come clear from Pike’s Peak. The second coach, close -following, was its escort from Fort Riley in to Leavenworth. - -Speedily the word travelled through the column of Pike’s Peakers -that the first coach actually was the first return coach from the -gold mines, and that it carried to Leavenworth $3500 in gold dust. -Leavenworth, as was afterwards reported, had a big celebration. - -Of course, the sight of the travel-stained coach, and the rumors as to -what it contained and what news it bore, excited the emigrants. Some -of them began to throw away stuff in order to lighten their loads; so -that from here on to Fort Riley the trail was strewn with what Billy -called “useless plunder.” But the Hee-Haw party were experienced enough -to start out only with what they needed, and they had nothing to throw -away yet. - -The last of the settlements was Junction City, just beyond Fort Riley. -While the rest of the party were making camp along with the other -“pilgrims,” outside the little town, Billy and Dave rode the mules in -to see if there were any provisions worth buying. Mr. Baxter, the cook, -said that if they could find any dried apples he would make a pie! - -But there were no dried apples or any other such delicacies in rude -little Junction City, here at the edge of the Indian country. Every -store seemed to be a saloon; and the streets were thronged with rough -emigrants and soldiers from the fort. Only whom did the boys meet but -Wild Bill Hickok! - -He was standing on the edge of the plank sidewalk of the one business -street, with several other men, apparently expecting something. - -“Why, hello, Bill!” - -“Hello, Billy. How are you, Dave? Where’d you come from, if I may ask?” - -“Salt Creek,” answered Billy Cody. - -“Going to Pike’s Peak,” announced Davy. - -“Good enough,” approved Wild Bill. “People are taking a little gold out -o’ thar, that’s sure. But I don’t believe all I hear.” - -“What are you doing here, Bill?” - -“I? Well, I may go to the diggin’s myself, and I may drive stage. -To-day’s stage westbound is due now. That’s what we’re looking for.” - -“She’s a comin’,” remarked one of the other men, with a nod. - -Sure enough, up the trail from the east, along the north bank of -the Smoky Hill Fork, in the dusk and the dust came at a gallop the -Leavenworth stage for the Pike’s Peak country, drawn by its four fine -mules. It halted before the Junction House Hotel, and the passengers -clambered stiffly out from under the canvas top that arched over the -wagon box. - -They were only two, and one from the driver’s box. The two plainly -enough were Easterners. The first was a rather young man, with a thin -sandy beard and a soft slouch hat; the second was a stoutish, elderly -man, with a round rosy face and a fringe of white whiskers under his -chin. He wore a rather dingy whitish coat; the younger man wore a -regulation duster. They both gazed about them alertly before entering -the hotel. - -“Hello, Bill,” nodded the stage driver, descending, after tossing his -lines to the hostler from the stage stable――for Junction City was -Station Number Seven on the stage route. - -“Who’s yore load, Tom?” queried somebody. - -“That old fellow in the white coat, he’s Horace Greeley. Other fellow’s -named Richardson――Albert D. Richardson.” - -“Where they from?” - -“N’ York, I reckon.” - -“Where they going?” - -“Out to the diggin’s.” - -“What line they in?” - -“Newspaper fellows of some sort, I hear tell. Anyhow, they ask a heap -of questions. That old chap in the white coat he’s been speech-makin’ -all through Kansas. As I understand it, he an’ that young fellow are -goin’ out to the mines to write up the country, so the people of the -East’ll know what’s true an’ what ain’t.” And Tom the driver walked on -into the hotel to wash and eat. - -“Seems to me I’ve heard of Horace Greeley,” mused Wild Bill. “He’s -quite a man.” - -“Sure. He’s editor of the New York _Tribune_,” asserted a man who -had not spoken before. “He’s the biggest man on the biggest paper in -the States, and what he says will influence the people more than a -stage-load of gold. Richardson’s a newspaper man, too; and another -reporter, named Henry Villard, of Cincinnati, is out at the diggin’s -now. But Greeley’s the biggest of the lot. They say only one printer in -his office can read his writing; but the old man has come out here to -get the truth, and if he tells the people to ‘go West’ they’ll go.” - -“That,” quoth Wild Bill emphatically, “is the best thing that’s ever -happened to this country. But it seems to me it’s a lot of trouble for -a man to take. Do you reckon he’s going to start a paper out thar at -Cherry Creek?” - -“No, sir! They say Horace Greeley is wedded to two things: his New York -_Tribune_ and his old white coat.” - -“Well, if he makes any speech here to-night I’m going to hear him,” -said Wild Bill. - -Horace Greeley did make a speech to citizens and emigrants, in a -partly-finished stone church. He talked on “Republicanism.” But Dave -and Billy and Hi and Jim and “Left-over” were too tired to go and hear -him; and so were the majority of the “pilgrims.” The Reverend Mr. -Baxter went in and reported that it was very good for those who agreed -with it. - -Bearing Horace Greeley and Journalist Richardson, the stage continued -westward in the morning. So did the Hee-Haw Express. - - - - -X - -“PIKE’S PEAK OR BUST!” - - -Already the procession had considerably thinned out. Some of the -outfits had broken down and some had quit discouraged. The Pike’s Peak -region was still 500 miles distant, and the worst of the journey lay -before. However, the Hee-Haw Express had no thought of quitting. - -“We’ll have to travel under discipline from now on, boys,” spoke -Captain Hi at noon camp. “You bear in mind I’m boss, and Billy is -second boss. We’ll try to be as easy on you as we can, but what we say -goes. The only person who doesn’t need to pay much attention is the -cook. He’s his own boss. The rest of us will mount guard every night -and follow a regular schedule. I appoint Jim the official hunter, -because he’s got the best gun. Jim, you watch out for meat. Ought to -see buffalo, plenty.” And Jim nodded. “Davy, you’re assistant to the -cook. You get him fuel and water.” And Davy nodded. “Left-over and -Billy and I’ll tend to the mules.” - -“What I want to know is, why don’t we ever have pie. If I’d thought -we’d eat just bacon and beans and coffee all the way across to the -mountains I wouldn’t have come,” squeaked Left-over, earnestly. - -“Sowbelly and beans will make a man of you,” growled Hi. “After you’ve -stood a steady diet of that for a couple o’ months nothing can kill -yuh.” And he rose. “All right; catch up, boys. Let’s be moving.” - -“Catch up” (or “Ketch up,” as Hi pronounced it) was the regulation -signal in the freighters’ trains on the plains for harnessing the mules -and oxen to the wagons. So now the span of mules were put back into -their places on either side of the tongue, and Left-over climbed into -the seat; it was his turn to drive. - -Just before sunset Left-over, peering ahead from his driver’s seat, -uttered a shrill whoop and tried to whip up his mules. - -“Hyar! What’re you aiming to do?” demanded Captain Hi, severely. - -“Aw, can’t you let a feller be?” whined Left-over. “I was going on -ahead, is all, and see what I could buy.” - -On a little hillock, before, beside the trail was what appeared to be -another stage station of canvas, but the top of the tent (for wall -tent it turned out to be) displayed in large black letters the sign: -“Grocery.” This explained Left-over’s hurry. However, as the nearest -“pilgrims” were behind he would have the grocery to himself, so -Captain Hi calmed him down with―― - -“Don’t be so brash about it, then. If you go and kill off one of those -mules we’ll put you in harness with the other one.” - -“And that will be a pair,” added Billy, quick as a wink. - -“Never mind, Left-over,” comforted the Reverend. “Maybe we can get our -dried apples there and have that pie I promised you.” - -But as they toiled on nearer, the tent grocery seemed deserted. It had -no customers and no proprietor. - -“Whoa!” yelled Left-over loudly, pulling down his mules opposite the -tent. “Whoa, there!” And――“Hello,” he hailed shrilly. - -At this slowly emerged from between two large barrels the figure of a -gaunt, frowsy-headed man――like a dog crawling out of a kennel. The man -must have been asleep. He yawned and stretched and stared. - -“Howdy?” - -“Howdy, strangers.” - -“What do you keep?” - -“Everything.” - -“Got any dried apples?” demanded Left-over, eagerly. - -“Nary apple.” - -“Got any crackers?” - -“Nary cracker.” - -“Any ham?” queried Hi. - -“Nary ham.” - -“Any molasses?” asked Billy. - -“Nary molasses.” - -“Any salt?” asked Jim. - -“Nary salt.” - -“What have you got, then?” - -“Pickles and smokin’ tobacco, strangers. Which’ll you have?” - -“That’s a great grocery stock!” scoffed Billy, as the Hee-Haw party -proceeded. “Pickles and smoking tobacco!” - -“I should say!” agreed Davy. “Not much chance for a pie there!” - -“I didn’t s’pose the country was going to be as bad as this,” whined -Left-over, from the wagon seat. - -“Wait till you strike the wust of it,” answered Jim. - -“Somebody’s broken down ahead, hasn’t he?” queried the Reverend Mr. -Baxter. - -“Looks so. We’ll go on and make camp there, anyway, and see,” directed -Captain Hi. - -The trail had veered apart from the Smoky Hill Fork and was cutting -through a wide, flat bottom-land, grown to short buffalo grass and -a few cottonwood trees. In the midst of the stretch was a “prairie -schooner,” halted, its white hood just visible in the gathering dusk. -Lonely enough it looked, too――solitary there with not another token of -human life near it. It did not have even a camp-fire. - -In the twilight the Hee-Haw Express drew upon it and halted also. The -owner of the wagon was sitting on the tongue, smoking an old clay pipe. - -“Howdy, strangers?” he greeted, coolly. - -“Howdy,” they responded; and suddenly Billy nudged Davy and pointed to -the wagon hood. - -“Pike’s Peak or Bust!” said the one sign; and under that had been -added: “Busted, by Thunder!” - -“What’s the matter, pardner? Stuck?” asked Captain Hi. - -The man jerked his thumb toward the wagon hood. - -“Read for yoreself, stranger,” he bade. “Busted!” - -“Where’s your party?” - -“I’m the party. I sent the old woman and the kids back by stage, and I -air hyar and hyar I stay, I reckon.” - -“Where are your animals?” - -“My critters war a hoss and a caow, hitched together. Injuns stole my -hoss; the old caow’s had a calf daown in the willows; and I’m busted. -How far to Pike’s Peak yet?” - -“’Bout five hundred miles.” - -“Wall,” drawled the man, yawning, “in case my old woman doesn’t find -another outfit back at the Missouri I reckon I can wait till the calf -grows up.” - -“Nothing we can do for you?” invited Mr. Baxter. - -The man slowly shook his head. - -“Nope, stranger. I air comfortable. ’Bout two miles on you’ll find a -better campin’ place. Water and fuel right around hyar I’m goin’ to -need, myself.” - -So, thus politely dismissed, the Hee-Haw Express moved along until, -where the trail crossed a creek, they found the wood and water. - -The trail stretched ever on and on. For one only six or eight weeks old -it was remarkable. Hundreds of wagons and animals had worn it wide and -plain; and, moreover, on either side of it were scattered cook-stoves, -trunks, bedsteads, bureaus, and other bulky household stuff, cast -overboard to relieve the tiring teams. Davy found a rag doll and Billy -picked up a thick hank of false hair. As Jim remarked: “A fellow could -follow this trail in the dark by stubbing his toes!” - -“Busted” outfits were constantly passed. The strain of the wild march -to “Pike’s Peak” was taking its toll of the weak and the illy prepared. - -The stage stations were placed from ten to twenty miles apart. They had -been located in a hurry; wagons sent out from Leavenworth by Jones & -Russell had dropped off the station agents and their outfits as fast -as possible all the way through to Denver. Some of the stations were -merely pieces of canvas laid over pole frames; and some were caves in -clay banks of streams; but under the canvas and in the caves were -living not only men but their wives. - -However, the fact that the stations had been established at all in such -a rush across 600 miles of uninhabited country struck Davy as no small -feat. And every day, on this Smoky Hill route trail, a stage coming -from the west was met, and another coming from the east passed them. -The stages went galloping along hauled by four dusty mules. The report -was that the company had spent three hundred thousand dollars before -the first coach had been started, and that the expenses were eight -hundred dollars a day! The fare from Leavenworth to Denver was $100. - -The sight of the two stages each day was quite an event to the toiling -Pike’s Peak Pilgrims, and they levelled all kinds of questions at -driver and passengers whenever they had a chance. - -The trail did not cling to the Smoky Hill Fork, but frequently was far -north of it. Numerous side creeks were crossed, supplying water and -wood; and again there would be no fuel but the gleaning of buffalo -chips. The country was flattening out into short-grass plains――buffalo -country. - -Captain Hi and Lieutenant Billy saw to it that the span of mules were -well attended to at noon and at evening, and that the daily marches of -the Hee-Haw Express were steady and systematic. So the party forged -straight along. The mules were fast walkers. - -“Strangers, you must be in a powerful hurry to dig out that pound of -gold a day,” hailed a “Lightning Express” that the “Hee-Haw” passed. - -This Lightning Express was taking a whole sawmill out――as well as a -large family. The household wagon bore the sign “Lightning Express”; -it was drawn by a mule and an ox, pulling together. Then followed a -freighting wagon loaded with the sawmill, and drawn by a yoke of oxen -and a horse, the horse being in front of the yoke of oxen. A woman and -several children were trudging beside the covered wagon. A man afoot -drove with his whip. - -“Right you are,” replied Captain Hi to the hail. - -“Have you heard any news?” quavered the woman. “Is it true that people -are putting knives in the bottom of their wagon-boxes and sliding down -Pike’s Peak and scraping up the gold in big slivers?” - -“I’ve heard about it but I’ve never seen it, ma’am,” said Hi, -truthfully. - -“When do we see the mountains?” - -“Oh, not for a few hundred miles more,” informed the Reverend, kindly. - -“Well, when you get there and see Jacob Smith from Posey County, -Injianny, tell him we’re coming as fast as we can,” she called after -them. - -“We will.” - -“Shouldn’t wonder if that was Jacob Smith or some other pilgrim on his -way back already,” proclaimed Jim, pointing. “Reckon he’s made his pile -and is heading home to spend it.” - -“Wish we were doing the same!” squeaked Left-over. “I’d buy pie; all I -could eat.” - -“I don’t,” announced Billy Cody. “Do you, Dave! I want the fun of -finding before I have the fun of spending.” - -“Yes,” agreed Mr. Baxter; “it’s a heap more fun to earn what you get.” - -A man on horseback was wending way down the trail from the west. It was -an exception to meet anybody travelling east; he was the first since -they had left the stage line. If he came from the Pike’s Peak country -he ought to bring much news. - -So, as he met them, Captain Hi halted the Hee-Haw Express and hailed -him. - -“Howdy, stranger? Bound far?” - -“To the States if I can get there.” - -“Come from far?” - -“Far enough, mister. I come from the Cherry Creek diggin’s.” - -Hurrah! Davy had been eyeing him keenly. He was an unshaven, thin -but powerful man, with cadaverous face and fierce black eyes; and he -bestrode a mule as cadaverous as himself. He carried a musket; and that -seemed to be about all. Anyway, his saddle-bags were disappointingly -flat. But he may have had his gold stowed out of sight or deposited to -his account somewhere. - -“Clear from the diggin’s, eh?” pursued Hi. “How are things out thar? -Booming?” - -The man stroked his black beard and surveyed the party. - -“Do I look booming, mister?” he demanded. “I wouldn’t give an acre in -old Missouri for the whole of the Pike’s Peak country. You going out -yonder after gold?” - -“Yes.” - -“Wall, you’re on the hardest trail you ever tackled, mister; no wood, -no water, no forage, and game mighty scarce. And when you get to the -end you won’t find much. That story about gold is the biggest hoax ever -invented. From now on you’ll meet about as many people turned back as -there are going on.” - -“What’s the matter? Isn’t there any gold at all?” asked Billy, dismayed. - -“Mighty little and hard to get.” - -“I’m going on just the same and see,” said Billy, doggedly. - -“We’re with you, Billy,” encouraged the Reverend. And――“What’s -happening out there, anyway?” he queried of the returning pilgrim. “We -hear that twenty thousand people are on the road.” - -“They’ve made two towns on Cherry Creek; one’s Auraria, t’other’s -called Denver now. They’ve had a meeting, too, and organized to send -a delegate to Congress from the Territory of Jefferson; and the first -Monday in June they held a convention to form the State of Jefferson. -That was after I left, so I dunno what you will find when you get -there. But you won’t find gold; at least not to amount to anything. -And my advice is turn around now ’fore you starve to death.” - -With that, he clapped his heels against his mule, and continued. So did -the Hee-Haw Express――but in the opposite direction. - -“I reckon,” said Captain Hi, “we’ll keep going. Little Billy said it.” - -That was a great disappointment――to have such a report. The man seemed -to have spoken the truth, for from now on the returning goldseekers -rapidly increased in numbers, and they all insisted that the Pike’s -Peak country was a hoax, and the trail to it very bad. Indeed, many -“pilgrims” were turning back without having reached the “diggin’s” at -all. - -The Hee-Haw party were now well out in the midst of the Great Plains -which stretched from the Missouri to the Rocky Mountains. Afar extended -on either hand and before and behind, the rolling, sandy surface, -covered with the short, woolly buffalo grass, and broken here and there -by little hills and occasional willows and cottonwoods growing by the -creeks. Jack-rabbits, as large as fox-terriers, and prairie-dogs and -coyotes and gray wolves and antelope scampered from the trail, and the -paths made by the buffalo frequently crossed and recrossed. - -These paths were worn deep, like bridle paths. Jim kept the camp -in fresh meat from the antelope that he shot. He stalked them very -cleverly, as Dave thought, by lying out in the brush, and waving his -handkerchief from the end of his wiping stick. The flag seemed to -fascinate the curious-minded antelope, who edged nearer and nearer to -him, circling around and around and peering and stamping, until he shot -what he wished, at his leisure. - -The meat was tender and sweet, but according to Billy and the others, -it was nothing compared with buffalo meat. Buffalo meat gave more -strength, and Billy claimed that anybody could eat it for weeks at a -time and not tire of it. So they all wanted buffalo――and especially -Left-over. He was clamorous to shoot a buffalo, and began to whine -about it continually. - -“Lookee here, Left-over,” finally spoke Jim. “If we let you shoot a -buffalo will you quit this etarnel gab about that and pie?” - -“I will. Truly I will, Jim,” promised Left-over. - -“All right, then. As soon as we sight buffalo, where we can get at ’em, -you can shoot one, and after that shut up till we get to Denver.” - -“With your gun, Jim?” - -“Yes, with my gun.” - -Only a few buffalo had been seen thus far. The “pilgrim” travel on the -trail had split their herds and had made them wary. But on the very -next day it was that Billy, driving the laboring mules, from the wagon -seat whooped exultantly: - -“Buffalo! Plenty o’ ’em. There’s yore chance, Left-over.” - -Left-over came running from the rear. - -“Where, Billy?” - -“Over there, of course. Don’t you see them?” and Billy reined in his -mules. - -“I see ’em! I see ’em!” yelled Left-over, much excited. “Where’s my -gun? Is it loaded? How’ll I get ’em?” - -He would have grabbed the gun from Jim and have set right out afoot, -but Captain Hi and Jim both stopped him. - -“Easy, easy, now!” exclaimed Hi, gazing calculatingly. “Thar’s buffalo -enough for all, I reckon. Must be two thousand. But if you try to run -’em down on foot we’ll lose every one. Let’s unharness the mules, fust.” - -Left-over promptly jumped to help. The buffalo were plain in sight. To -the right of the trail, slightly ahead and just out of gun-shot, they -were grazing in a great herd which speckled the landscape like a mass -of gooseberry bushes. - -“Looks as if we had ’em all to ourselves,” quoth Jim, as the mules were -speedily unharnessed from the wagon. “No ‘pilgrims’ around to interfere -with this herd. Reckon if we don’t get a mess it will be our own fault.” - -“Where do I come in?” whined Left-over, anxiously. “You promised me, -didn’t you?” - -“Yes, I did, and I never break a promise. Hyar’s your gun, now. You -stay right whar you are. We’ll drive the buffalo in to you. Otherwise -you’ll jest shoot up the landscape and mebbe yourself or us in the -bargain. Lend me one of your shooting-irons, Billy. The pistol’s -enough. Thanks.” - -So saying, he vaulted on one of the mules, Hi did the same. They rode -bareback with the traces tied short, and used the coiled lines as -bridle-reins. Hi carried his long-barrelled Mississippi yager, Jim held -the Colt’s navy revolver in his right hand. On a wide circuit they set -out, as if to get behind the buffalo and turn them toward the wagon. - -“What are we goin’ to do? Where do we come in?” wildly appealed -Left-over. - -“We stay here, I reckon,” said Billy coolly. - -“You and Davy and Left-over can whang away,” bade Mr. Baxter, with a -laugh. “I’ll sit in the reserved seat and see the fun.” - -So saying, he calmly clambered aboard and into the seat, where he -stowed himself at languid ease. - -“If those mules aren’t broken to buffalo there won’t be any fun――except -for the buffalo,” observed Billy. - -“Yes, Hi and Jim are liable to be stampeded clear back into -Leavenworth,” chuckled Mr. Baxter. - -With the four at the wagon keenly watching, Hi and Jim pursued their -circuit. They rode at rapid gallop, and presently disappeared in a -shallow draw. The next sign of them was the action of the buffalo -herd. Animals on the farther outskirts began to lift their heads and -stare and show uneasiness. Gradually the whole herd were staring in the -one direction; and on a sudden, like a vast blanket tossed by the wind, -forth they lunged into motion. And with reason, for out into the open, -on the far side of them, came racing hard on their long-eared mules, Hi -and Jim. - -“Hurrah!” cried Billy Cody, exultant. “Those mules are O. K. Lie low -and stay by the wagon, fellows. Meat’s coming.” - -“What’ll I do?” yelled Left-over. “Where’ll I go? - -“You do as I say,” ordered Billy, thoroughly alive. “Stay right here. -We may have to split that herd.” - -On blundered the buffalo. The roll of their hoofs sounded like -heavy thunder, and the dust floated over their dark backs. Pressing -valiantly, Hi and Jim held their mules in the rear, and, still -circuiting, forced the herd over toward the wagon. - -“Great Cæsar’s ghost, boys!” gasped Mr. Baxter, straightening in his -seat. “Don’t forget that I’m up aloft here, and I’ll land hard if that -herd strikes us!” - -The herd arrived almost before he had finished speaking. The -foremost――a big cow in the lead――went streaming past just in front of -the wagon; and the whole van of the shaggy, crazy army loomed in one -grand charge on either hand. - -“I’ll tend to this side; you and Left-over tend to the other,” -shouted Billy to Dave. “Give it to them! Split ’em! Split ’em! Wave -yore hat, Reverend.” - -[Illustration: “GIVE IT TO THEM! SPLIT ’EM! SPLIT ’EM!”] - -“Now’s your chance, Left-over,” exclaimed Dave, levelling his revolver. - -The Reverend waved his broad hat and shouted lustily. - -“Bang!” spoke Billy’s yager. Davy pointed his revolver at the nearest -buffalo and pulled trigger. He dimly saw the huge creature plunge -forward to its knees, but he did not wait to see more; he only pulled -trigger as fast as he could right into the faces of the pelting herd. -He had a vague vision of bulging eyes and lolling red tongues, and -short horns and tangled foreheads and lunging shoulders, and ever the -dark, panting mass flowed past. - -Suddenly a tremendous report in his ear well-nigh deafened him, and -Left-over yelped loudly, crying, “I got him! I got him!” - -“Hooray!” screamed the Reverend, choking with glee, and laughing so -that he doubled and swayed. - -Left-over was on his back, heels high, gun waving. He sat up, pulled -trigger, and over he went again, kicked flat by the heavy Sharp’s. At -every shot he yelped, sprawled backward, sat up, shot, and yelped again. - -Davy’s revolver was emptied, and he had space to watch. Now Left-over’s -gun was empty, too; and dusty and perspiring and wild-eyed, he picked -himself up. - -“How many did I kill?” he squealed hoarsely. “Are all those mine?” - -For the herd had passed, the wagon was untouched, and the chief token -of the battle was the half dozen bulky forms lying prone almost in the -very trail itself. Davy drew a long breath. That had been an exciting -moment. Hi and Jim came galloping in, their mules lathered and puffing. - - - - -XI - -SOME HALTS BY THE WAY - - -“Good work,” praised Hi, with casual glance. “Thar are three or four -more out yonder. Reckon we’ve got meat enough now for a while.” - -“Which are mine?” squealed Left-over. “Did you other fellows kill any? -I’d have killed fifty if I’d had any more cartridges.” - -“You killed one, all right, Left-over,” asserted the Reverend. “I saw -you. You killed him six times and once more for luck.” - -“No, I didn’t, either!” disputed Left-over. “I killed seven, mebbe -more. I shot seven times.” - -“Which is it, Reverend?” asked Hi. - -The Reverend Mr. Baxter pointed, with a grin; and grinning, Hi and Jim -rode forward to inspect. Davy went, too; he was certain that a couple -of buffalo had fallen to his revolver, and as there were only three on -this end of the wagon, he did not see where Left-over’s seven could be. - -Hi and Jim were gazing down upon a huge buffalo bull, who lay with his -nose touching the fore wheel of the wagon. He made a great pool of -blood, which flowed from wounds in his head and his shoulders and back -and legs and everywhere, apparently. - -“You certainly peppered him, Left-over,” assured Hi. “I reckon he’s -dead.” - -“Did I do all that?” queried Left-over. And he began to strut. “Well, -I think that’s pretty good. If I hadn’t been here he’d have run right -over the wagon. I picked him out on purpose. But I must have killed -a lot more.” And chattering and strutting he roamed about, every few -seconds returning to examine the holes that he had made or to thrust -the carcass with his toes or to proclaim how large it was. - -“You surely made your mark. Now you can rest a while,” chuckled Jim. -“What’s your count, Billy?” - -“Two at my end,” reported Billy, who had shot and killed, and had -reloaded like lightning and shot and killed again. - -“And two for Davy, and another who’s dropped yonder; and those that -Jim and I got. That makes a mess,” said Hi. “Wall, reckon we’d better -butcher ’fore the wolves spoil the meat. You fellows go ahead here, and -Jim and I’ll fetch in the rest.” - -“Davy didn’t do so bad, himself; did he?” remarked Mr. Baxter, climbing -out of the wagon. “Did you aim, Davy?” - -“No,” confessed Davy; “not after the first shot. My eyes were full of -buffalo.” - -“Mine’s the biggest, anyhow,” boasted Left-over. “If I hadn’t shot him -so much he’d have got away.” - -With Davy and Left-over helping the best that they could, Billy and the -Reverend dressed the buffaloes that were near the wagon; and before -they were done Hi and Jim came in, packing the best portions of those -lying out in the wake of the herd. Even though only the best parts――the -humps and rib roasts――were taken, the outfit had what looked to be more -meat than they could use. But Hi and Jim were up to snuff. - -“We’ll jerk this as we go,” said Hi. “Cut it into strips, fellows.” - -So they cut much of the meat into strips about two inches wide and as -thick as one’s finger and a foot long, and hung it on cord all around -the wagon, row after row. So dry was the air and so pure out here in -the great open plains that before the wagon had travelled an hour the -strips already were curing hard and dark. They resembled strips of -leather. That considerable dust settled on them apparently did no harm. - -“Now they’ll keep forever,” declared Hi, striding along after a brief -inspection. “You can chaw ’em as they are, or fry ’em; and you’ll find -’em the sweetest meat you ever stuck between your jaws. Thar’s nothing -better than buffalo jerky.” - -That afternoon they passed another stalled Pike’s Peak outfit――a whole -family, this time, with their wagon mired down to the hubs in a boggy -place that sometimes was a creek. The canvas top proclaimed: “Root Hog -or Die! We’re from Ohio. Bound for the Gold Fields.” - -“Started rooting a leetle early, haven’t you?” queried Hi, as the -Hee-Haw Express halted to survey. - -A thin, sallow woman was sitting on the ground holding a baby. Three -children were playing about. A cookstove stood out, with dishes -scattered around. A yoke of scrawny lame oxen grazed near. - -At Hi’s good-natured hail the woman gave a weak, tired answer. - -“Howdy, strangers. Yes, ’pears like we’re stuck. We’ve been here since -yesterday. Can’t seem to get out.” - -“Are you alone?” asked Mr. Baxter. - -“No, sir. But my man he’s thar in the wagon, sick. Reckon he’s got the -janders, and he isn’t any good.” - -But a boy younger than Davy walked forward from the other children. He -was a ragged, sharp-faced youngster, and now full of business. - -“I’m boss of this outfit,” he asserted. “Say, can’t you hitch on your -mules an’ give us a lift. Those oxen of ours can’t pull grass up by the -roots, they’re so plumb wore out. It’s a hard trail, strangers.” - -“Sure we can,” replied Hi, promptly. “Unhitch, boys. Let’s snake ’em -out o’ thar.” - -“Want our oxen, too?” keenly queried the boy. - -“Nope, sonny. We can haul the wagon, but we can’t haul the bulls at the -same time.” - -At shout and crack of lash the Hee-Haw mules sturdily put their -shoulders to their collars and with heave and groan the wagon rolled -out to the firm ground. - -“Much obliged,” said the boy. “What do we owe you?” - -“Nothing,” answered Hi. - -“Strangers,” spoke a quavering voice, and the man himself poked his -face out from under the hood, “how’ll you trade some of that meat for a -sack of flour. I’ve a powerful hankering for fresh meat.” - -He was as yellow as a sunflower, and looked pretty miserable. - -“Take ten feet of it and welcome,” proffered Mr. Baxter at once. “We -don’t want your flour.” - -“No; we’ve got plenty flour,” added Hi. - -“Thank you,” said the woman, “but we don’t travel on charity. My man’s -got a turrible hankering for meat, and if you’ll trade we’ll be right -glad to dicker with you. I reckon you can use the flour, can’t you?” - -“Just as you say, then, ma’am,” responded Hi. “But you’re welcome to -the meat.” - -Billy was already slashing at a string of the jerky; down it came. -Seeing this, the Ohio boy dived into the wagon and lustily dragged -forth a sack of flour. - -He shouldered it and staggered with it toward the Hee-Haw wagon. Billy -sprang to take it, but the boy shook his head stubbornly. - -“I’m man enough to tote this,” he panted. - -“I reckon you are, sonny,” grinned Hi. “But you’ll lemme help you toss -it into the wagon, won’t you? You’re so strong and sassy you’re liable -to bust a hole through the box!” - -“How far to Pike’s Peak, strangers?” asked the woman, anxiously. - -“A few hundred miles, ma’am.” - -“It seems a powerful long road,” she sighed. “We’ve come clear from -Ohio; drove the whole way. We started last fall, an’ wintered in -Missouri. That’s where this baby was born.” - -“We’ll get there, ma,” encouraged the boy. “Pap’ll feel better now, an’ -we’ll go a-whoopin’.” - -“I hope so,” she faltered. “But they do say there isn’t any gold, -anyhow.” - -Davy felt sorry for her. Evidently so did the Reverend Mr. Baxter. - -“What is your name, if you please?” he asked. - -“Jones. Mrs. Jasper Jones. My man’s a blacksmith.” - -“Well, Mrs. Jones, we understand there’s quite a town going up out at -the mountains; and if we get there before you do we’ll trade this flour -in for a corner lot and your husband can start in blacksmithing.” - -“Will you?” she exclaimed, brightening. “Now that’s mighty kind of you.” - -“I’ll take care of you, ma,” comforted the boy, quickly. “I’ll take -care of you an’ pap, too, as soon as we get where there’s some work.” - -“I believe you will, sonny,” spoke Jim admiringly. “You’ll make the -fur fly. We’ll tell ’em you’re coming, so they’ll leave space for you.” - -And Billy added as good measure: - -“When you get to the diggin’s, if you don’t see me you ask for Billy -Cody. I’ll fix you out.” - -“Aw, crickity!” gasped the boy, staring. “Say――are you Billy Cody, the -Boy Scout?” - -“I’m Billy Cody, all right,” responded Billy, now somewhat confused, -while Hi and Jim and Mr. Baxter laughed loudly. - -“We know you. We read all about you in the paper,” proclaimed the boy, -excited. “That time you fought the Injuns. Say――will you shake hands -with me?” - -“Aw,” stammered Billy, trying to hide behind the wagon, “forget about -that, will you? I’m nobody.” - -“Terrible modest all of a sudden, isn’t he!” chuckled Jim, as he and Hi -and the Reverend finished harnessing the mules again. - -“I killed a big buffalo! Biggest one you ever saw!” squealed Left-over. -“Shot him all to pieces jest as he was running into us. Didn’t I, -Billy?” - -“Hooray for Left-over!” cheered Hi. “Well, catch up, boys. We’d better -be moving or we’ll never get thar.” And he addressed the other outfit. -“Can we do anything more for you?” - -“No, thank you, strangers,” said both the woman and the man. “We can -make it, now our wagon’s out. And that meat’ll taste powerful good.” - -“Goodby, then,” called the Hee-Haws. - -“Goodby.” And the woman added. “Don’t forget that corner lot.” - -“We won’t.” - -The timber lining the course of the various streams had shrunken, and -the streams themselves were dwindling ever smaller. It was a barren -country, this, wide and sandy and dotted with occasional thumb-like -hills called buttes. Across it wound the trail, marked by dust and -canvas-topped wagons. - -“We must be getting near the mountains, boys,” called Hi. “That last -station agent said we were only two hundred miles from Denver.” - -“We ought to see them, then, pretty soon, I should think,” remarked Mr. -Baxter. - -“The chances are we’ll be looking for water instead,” declared Jim. -“The country’s going dry on us.” - -The trail had swerved in to the Smoky Hill Fork again; and the Smoky -Hill Fork itself seemed about to quit. It contained only a mere trickle -of water. - -“You can follow the stage route on west to the Big Sandy,” informed -a squad of returning Pike’s Peakers, “or you can cut over to the -northward and find water there. It’s more than twenty-five miles to -where the stage route strikes the Big Sandy, and there isn’t any water -even then. But we hear tell there’s water on the short cut to the -north, where you strike the Big Sandy higher up.” - -Hi nodded thoughtfully. - -“All right,” he said. “How’s the country north?” - -“There’s nothing to brag on anywhere you go in this whole region, -stranger. We’re bound back to the States. We’ve had enough. But if -you try the short cut north watch out for the Injuns, ’Rapahoes and -Cheyennes both.” - -Hi nodded again. - -“We will.” - -Davy noted Left-over’s mouth open and his eyes begin to pop. Presently -Left-over could hold in no longer. - -“Lookee here,” he squealed. “Let’s quit. Let’s turn around with those -other fellows and go home. I’m tired, and I don’t feel very well, and -there isn’t anything at the other end anyhow.” - -“If you want to quit you can join the next party bound east. We can -do without you,” spoke Jim. “But I’m going on if I have to carry the -mules.” - -“So am I,” declared Billy; and the others, including Davy, felt the -same way. - -“I reckon Left-over’s afraid of the Injuns,” commented Hi. - -This seemed to arouse Left-over’s wrath. - -“I’m not, either,” he squealed frantically. “The Injuns had better not -bother _me_. Did you see the way I downed the big buffalo? That’s what -any Injuns’ll get who tackle _me_. You fellows don’t know me when I’m -mad. I’m bad. I’m a regular tarrer. I’m half horse and half alligator. -Those Injuns had better keep out of my way!” - -“We’re mighty glad of your company, Left-over,” claimed Mr. Baxter -soberly. “If I were you I’d ride the trail and hire out to emigrant -parties to see them through safely.” - -Left-over continued to bluster as they marched; and Billy only remarked -to Davy: - -“If his ‘do’ is half as big as his ‘tell’ he could lick Wild Bill, -couldn’t he?” - -Late that afternoon Hi pointed to the north. - -“Here’s a chance for Left-over,” he called. “We’re going to have -visitors!” - -“Injuns!” said Billy quickly, shading his eyes and peering. They all -peered――Davy, who was driving, from the wagon seat. - -A band of horsemen were rapidly approaching across the level sandy -plain. By their figures and the way they rode Indians they certainly -were; some twenty of them. Left-over bellowed wildly. - -“I see ’em!” he cried. “I see ’em! Gimme a gun! Get behind the wagon! -Aren’t you going to stop? Going to let us all be scalped?” - -“Quit your yawp!” bade Hi, roughly. “Drive along, Davy. Handle your -guns, boys, so they’ll know we’re ready. Don’t let them think we’re -afraid. I’ll tend to them at the proper time.” - -Minding these instructions of Captain Hi, the Hee-Haw outfit proceeded -as if intent on their own business. Left-over whimpered and showed a -strong disposition to climb into the rear of the wagon, but Billy said -sternly: - -“None of that! You stay outside. Thought you were an Injun-fighter.” - -“I am,” piped Left-over. “I was going to protect the wagon.” - -“Huh!” grunted Billy. - -Up on the seat, in plain sight, driving the mules, Davy felt rather -alone and exposed; but he drove steadily. The mules were pricking their -long ears and showing uneasiness. - -“Watch your animals, Dave,” cautioned Jim. “A mules hates Injuns wuss -’n a rattlesnake.” - -And Davy hung tight. - -The Indians bore down at full gallop, as if to cut the wagon off. But -at sight of the guns in the hands of Hi and Jim and Billy, when within -a hundred yards they reined in sharply and the leader threw up his -hand, palm outward. Hi answered with similar sign. He rode forward -halfway, so did the Indian; they met. - -“’Rapahoes,” exclaimed both Billy and Jim. - -“Regular beggars,” commented the Reverend, easily. “Hi’ll fix them.” - -Hi and the Arapaho leader came riding toward the wagon, and the others -in the band slowly edged closer. They were armed mainly with bows and -spears, and did not look very formidable. - -“Just a lot of rascals out on a thieving expedition, picking up what -they can from the emigrants,” announced Hi. “But of course they claim -to be ‘good.’ The chief here’ll show you his recommendations.” - -The chief (who was a villainous appearing old fellow, cross-eyed and -marked by small-pox and wearing a dirty ragged blanket) passed from one -to another of the Hee-Haw company, saying “How, how?” and shaking hands -and extending a bit of dingy paper. - -When the paper reached Davy he read: - - “This Indian is Old Smoke. He’ll steal the tail off a mule. - Watch him and pass him along. - - “PIKE’S PEAKER.” - -The chief grinned and grunted, evidently well pleased with himself and -the impression that he thought he was making. - -“Soog!” he said eagerly. “Soog!” - -“No sugar,” answered Hi. “Drive on, Dave. Needn’t stop.” - -But the old Indian kept pace. - -“Tobac’. Give tobac’?” - -“Nope,” answered Hi, shaking his head. “Puckachee! Be off! Vamose!” - -“Look out for those other Injuns!” suddenly warned Billy, the alert. -“They’re coming right in!” - -“Don’t let ’em!” begged Left-over, excited. “Give him some sugar, so -he’ll go away. I’ll give him some.” - -“No, you won’t,” retorted Hi, quickly. “Then he’ll want something else. -Here, you――” and he spoke in earnest to the chief. “Puckachee!” And -Hi waved his hand and patted his yager meaningly. “Get! All of you! No -soog, no tobac’, nothing. Keep close to the wagon, boys,” he warned to -his party, “and show ’em we mean business. Drive the mules right along, -Dave.” He shouted to the advanced Indians: “No! No!” And facing about -shifted his gun as for action. - -The chief had paused, uncertain; and now his followers paused. The -Hee-Haw wagon, flanked by its body-guard, with the mules snorting and -straining but controlled by Davy, pressed on. In a moment the chief -rode back to his band, and all went cantering away. - -“Lucky for them they didn’t try to make us trouble,” boasted Left-over, -changing his tune but still suspiciously pale. “We’d have shown ’em!” - -“Lucky for us, you mean,” growled Hi. “If once those fellows had got in -amongst us and started to crowding us thar’s no knowing what mightn’t -have happened. That’s the mistake lots of these emigrants make. They -try to parley and give presents, thinking they’re buying the Injuns -off; and fust thing they know they’re overrun and helpless and lose -their whole outfit.” - -“Were you scared up there, Dave?” called Billy. - -“No. Were you down there?” retorted Dave. - -“Not so anybody noticed it, I hope,” answered Billy. - -“Well, one thing’s certain,” said Jim. “We’ve got wuss ahead of us -than Injuns, I reckon. Water’s petered out.” - -Before their eyes the shallow head-waters of the Smoky Hill Fork -disappeared abruptly, as if soaking down through the sand of its bed. -Davy checked his mules while Hi and the others surveyed before. Not a -token of water showed beyond or as far as they could see. - -Billy Cody had promptly trudged on in the advance; and now he shouted -and waved. - -“Trail forks,” he reported. “One fork keeps on, other turns off to the -right.” - -“We’ll follow that right fork as far as we can before dark,” quoth Hi. -“How’s the water bar’l? Fill her up.” - -The Reverend Mr. Baxter sprang to the river bed and with the camp spade -dug vigorously. The others took pails and pans and kettles and carried -water, as fast as the hole supplied it, to the big cask that, slung -fast at the rear of the wagon, formed part of the trail kit. - -It was slow work filling this cask through the bung-hole, but Hi kept -them at it until the cask was well-nigh running over. By this time dusk -was settling, and with a shrewd glance about at the landscape Captain -Hi said: - -“Unspan, boys. We might as well camp right hyar. But it’s mighty poor -grazing for the mules, I tell you!” - - - - -XII - -PERILS FOR THE HEE-HAWS - - -Many emigrants had camped here, evidently. The grass had been eaten off -for several acres around, and Davy roamed in a circle of a quarter of a -mile before he had gleaned enough buffalo chips for the supper fire. - -“Better get enough for breakfast, too, Dave,” warned Mr. Baxter, the -cook, with a weather-wise eye cocked at the horizon. “Hear the thunder? -We’re liable to be soaked and so will the chips.” - -Buffalo chips when dry were fine, quick, hot fuel; but when wet they -were hopeless, like soggy paste-board. Mr. Baxter’s warning had been -well founded, for the air was heavy and warmish, and from some distant -point echoed the rumble of a storm. - -Up to this time the journey from Leavenworth had been very comfortable -as to weather, with sunny days and occasional little rains. But, -according to Billy and all, some of these plains storms were regular -“tail twisters” and “stem winders,” drowning even the prairie-dogs out -of their holes! - -“Left-over’s first on guard to-night,” directed Captain Hi. “We must -keep eye and ear open for those Injuns. They may sneak up and run off -our mules.” - -“They’d better not try it when I’m on guard,” blustered Left-over, in -his funny squeak. “You’ll lemme have your gun, won’t you, Jim?” - -“Not much!” rapped Jim. “I may want that gun myself. Take one of -Billy’s. Let him have your yager, Billy. What have you got in it?” - -“A bullet and three buckshot. I loaded her for Injuns.” - -“That’s right. Left-over can do a toler’ble lot of shooting with that -load.” - -Pleased, Left-over took the gun and posted himself just outside the -firelight, where he could oversee camp and mules (now tethered near) -and any prowling figures approaching. The night settled black and -thick, with the stars faintly twinkling through a haze; but wrapped in -his blanket beside Billy, Dave soon fell asleep. - -He was awakened by a loud bang, and a louder howl from Left-over, who -seemed to be stepping on everybody at once. - -“Injuns! I’m killed! Help! Murder! Wake up! Why don’t you wake? Help! -Murder! Injuns! Injuns!” - -Before Davy had collected his own wits and was out from the blanket -Billy had sprung up like a deer; with the one motion he was on his -feet, free of the blanket, revolver in hand, ready to obey Captain Hi’s -sharp voice. - -“Shut up! (to Left-over, who was cavorting around like whale in a -flurry). Lie low, boys! Over here, together, away from the fire. Where -are they, Left-over? What’s the matter? What’d you see?” - -“I’m killed,” wailed Left-over. “The whole country’s full of -Injuns――’Rapahoes. I shot into ’em when they were sneaking up, and then -they shot me through the head. It all happened at once. But I saved -the mules. I gave my life for ’em, and you-all.” And Left-over groaned -vigorously. - -Half deafened by the wails of Left-over, Davy had been listening hard -for Indian whoop or rustle, and peering for shadowy forms. But he -heard only the breathing of his companions and the grunty sighs of the -aroused mules. Not a figure, except those of the shadowy mules, just -visible against the sky-line, could be descried. - -“Aw, shucks!” grumbled Billy, suddenly, breaking the suspense. And -standing boldly, he strode to the smouldering camp-fire and thrust a -bit of paper into the live ashes. He made a plain target, but he did -not seem to care, and waited for the paper to flare. - -In the flare they all stared around; the mules were the first things -noted――but Mr. Baxter exclaimed: - -“Look at Left-over! By jiminy, he is wounded! Start that fire more or -make a torch so we can see. Wait a minute, Left-over.” - -Left-over certainly presented an alarming sight. His face was welling -blood, which streamed down upon his chest. His eyes rolled and he -groaned dismally. - -As Billy made another flare, Jim, nearest to Left-over, hastily -examined, with eyes and deft fingers, Left-over groaning now terribly. - -“Don’t find anything――there ain’t any new hole; mostly mouth,” Jim -reported. “Can’t you hold your yawp, Left-over, long enough to tell us -what happened to you?” - -“I saw the Injuns sneaking up and we all shot at the same time, and -I killed them and they killed me,” sobbed Left-over. “If you don’t -believe me go out and look.” - -“I know,” quoth Billy Cody. “That gun kicked him in the face and plumb -broke his nose! She was loaded to do business.” - -“Huh!” grunted Left-over, venturing to sit up and feel of his face. - -“If you fellows’ll watch I’ll scout around a bit and see what’s what -outside,” proffered Billy. “I keep seeing something lying out yonder. -Shouldn’t wonder if Left-over did kill an Injun.” - -The lightning was fitful but incessant; its pallid flashes played over -the landscape――momentarily revealing the drooping mules, the spots of -sage, the wagon, the faces on Davy’s right and left, and (as seemed to -Davy) exposing, for a brief instance, a dark mass lying farther out on -the prairie. - -“Well――――” began Captain Hi; but he was interrupted. As if borne on the -wings of a sudden cool gust from the west there came fresh blare of -thunder and glare of lightning. Peal succeeded peal, flash succeeded -flash, with scarce an interval. Hi’s voice rang sternly. - -“Billy, you and Dave see to those mules, quick, or they’ll stampede. -The rest of you pitch what stuff you can into the wagon and stretch -guy-ropes to hold her down. This is an old rip-snorter of a storm, and -it’s coming with its head down and tail up!” - -Nobody paused to question or debate. The storm seemed right upon them. -Following Billy, Dave leaped for the mules. - -“Tie ’em to the wagon wheels,” yelled Billy, in the pale glare tugging -at a picket pin. - -He and Davy hauled the mules along to the wagon, where Hi and Jim, Mr. -Baxter and even the gory Left-over were hustling frantically to put -things under cover and make the wagon fast with guy-ropes stretched -taut over the top. - -But the storm scarcely waited. The bellow of the thunder and the fierce -play of the lightning increased. There was a pause, a patter, a swift -gust; and rushing out of the inky night charged the rain. - -Rain? Sheets of it! Blinding, drenching sheets of it, driven by gust -after gust, and riven by peal after peal, glare after glare. - -“Hang to the wagon, everybody!” shouted Captain Hi; and Davy, hanging -hard, could see, amidst the cataract of water, his partners also -hanging hard to guy-ropes and wagon-sheet corners. The mules stood -drooped and huddled, their ears flat and their tails turned to the -storm. - -Never had there been such lightning, never such thunder, never such -rain! All in a moment, as it seemed to Davy, he was soaked through and -through, and the ground under him was running with water an inch deep. -The wagon top bellied and slapped and jerked, and every instant was -threatening to tear loose and sail away, or else lift the wagon and all -with it. - -“Hurrah!” yelled Billy gaily, braced and panting, as he tried to anchor -his corner. Nothing daunted Billy Cody. “Now we’ve got water a-plenty!” - -As suddenly as it had arrived the bulk of the storm departed, leaving -only a drizzle, and a very wet world. The Hee-Haw party might release -their grip on the wagon, and take stock. The rain had driven through -the canvas top into the bedding and other stuff, and the rest of the -night bid fair to be rather uncomfortable. - -“What are we going to do now?” whined Left-over. - -“Do the best we can,” answered Captain Hi. “Stand up or lie down, -whichever you please, till morning.” - -“Aren’t you going out to look at my Injun?” - -“He’ll keep. We’ve got enough to tend to right hyar.” - -Mr. Baxter lighted the lantern, and they overhauled the bedding. - -“Come on, Davy,” quoth Billy. “I’m going to sleep. Crawl in and we’ll -shiver ourselves warm.” - -Billy’s buffalo robe was spread down on a spot where the rain already -had soaked into the sandy soil, and snuggled beside him, under a -blanket, dressed just as he was, Dave soon found himself growing warm. - -“’Twon’t hurt us any,” murmured Billy. “I’ve been wet this way many a -time before. If we don’t change our clothes we won’t catch cold.” - -That was fortunate, for they had no clothes to change to! - -When Dave awakened, the sun was almost up; he was nearly dry, and had -not been uncomfortable, after all. The Reverend Mr. Baxter was trying -to start a fire with bits of wood from some of the boxes in the wagon, -and to dry out a few buffalo chips. Left-over was snoring lustily, but -the rest of the camp was turning out. Billy, who was sitting up, gazing -about, whooped joyously. - -“Look at Left-over’s Injun!” he cried, pointing. Out he sprang and -hustled across the plain. The camp began to laugh――all but Davy, who -stared, blinking, and Left-over, who stirred, half aroused. - -At the dark spot, which was Left-over’s Indian, Billy stopped; he waved -his hand and cheered, and came back, dragging the thing. As he drew -near, Davy saw what the others had seen. The Indian was a big calf! - -“Shot it plumb through the head!” yelped Billy. “’Rah for Left-over!” - -“What is it? What’s the matter?” stammered Left-over, struggling to sit -up, while he blinked, red-eyed. - -“Better take his tail for your scalp, Left-over,” bade Jim. “It’s a -pity we don’t need meat, but you can butcher him if you want to.” - -Not for some weeks did the Hee-Haw outfit get done teasing Left-over -about his “Injuns.” - -“Anyway,” soothed Mr. Baxter, “you made a good shot. Nobody can deny -you that.” - -“Huh!” agreed Left-over, swelling importantly. “I knew it was -something, and I drew bead and whaled away.” - -“Purty good to draw bead in the dark,” remarked Captain Hi. “Left-over -must have eyes like a cat!” - -They ate a rather scant breakfast, mostly cold; and leaving the -luckless calf (which must have wandered from some emigrant party) minus -a few steaks, they turned northwest on the cut-off to the next water. -The stage route went straight on, over a bare plateau; but a number of -emigrants evidently had been turning off here on a trail of their own. - -So sandy was the soil and so hot the sun that very soon the ground was -as dry as before, and Billy’s boast of “plenty water” failed to make -good. - -About the middle of the morning they passed an emigrant train of a -large party still recovering from the storm. Wagons had been capsized, -tents torn up bodily, and equipage scattered far and wide. One wagon -had been carried away completely. - -“How far to the mountains, strangers?” queried one of the emigrants. It -was the same old question. All the Pike’s Peak travellers appeared to -have the one thing in mind――the mountains. - -“Follow us and you’ll get thar,” replied Captain Hi. “What do you know -about this cut-off?” - -“Nothing at all, stranger. There looked as if somebody had gone up this -way, so we came too.” - -“It’s a terrible dry road, though,” sighed a woman. “Maybe if we’d have -kept on west we’d have done better.” - -“Well, by jiminy!” said Hi, as the Hee-Haws toiled on. “I sort of think -so, myself. This trail doesn’t look good to me; not a little bit.” - -“Shall we turn back?” proposed Mr. Baxter. - -“I hate to turn back,” spoke Billy promptly. “I like to keep a-going.” - -“Oh, we might as well go on,” added Jim. “I hate to back track, too. -But there aren’t many emigrants on this trail, that’s certain.” - -“The trouble is they’ll follow like sheep,” asserted the Reverend. “If -this cut-off is no good somebody ought to put a sign on it.” - -Hotter and hotter grew the day. The trail, which was not so large after -the emigrant party had been passed, wound among blistering sand-hills, -and soon the mules were plodding doggedly, with tongues out, hides -lathering. They guided themselves, for the Reverend, whose turn it was -to drive, had mercy on them and walked. That night at camp he uttered a -sudden exclamation. - -“Water’s more than half gone, boys,” he announced. “Either this keg -leaks or the air drinks faster than we do.” - -“We’ll have to be easy on water, then,” ordered Captain Hi. And they -all went to bed thirsty. - -Davy had a miserable night, and probably the rest did, too, although -nobody except Left-over said anything. The mules started out stiffly. -But Mr. Baxter suddenly shouted, in a queer wheeze, pointing: - -“Cheer up, fellows! There’s either a cloud or a mountain――see?” - -They peered. Away in the west, just touched by the first rays of the -sun, peeped over the rolling desert, at the horizon edge, a vague -outline that did look like the tip of a cloud. - -“There’s another!” cried Billy, pointing further to the north. “If -those are mountains I reckon this one is Long’s Peak; maybe that other -is Pike’s Peak.” - -Davy gazed constantly at the two vague, cloudlike breaks in the line of -horizon and sky. As the sun rose higher they seemed to grow whiter; but -they did not move. They must be mountains, then; and oh, so far away! -Occasionally, as the wagon labored over a swell in the desert, Davy -thought that he could descry other mountains in an irregular ridge -connecting the tip in the north with the tip at the south. However, as -the sun shone fiercer the whole sandy plain quivered with the heat rays -and the horizon blurred. Nobody seemed to care about the mountains now; -the main thought was getting through to water. - -The trail was almost drifted over by sand; the Hee-Haw party appeared -to be the only party travelling it. That was discouraging. The mules -scarcely moved. At noon they were given a little drink out of Hi’s hat, -for the wooden bucket had warped and leaked like a sieve. Davy never -had been so thirsty in all his life, and Left-over had to be forced -back by main strength from the nearly empty cask. That night, camped in -a dry watercourse, where they dug and dug without finding any moisture, -they used the last of their water for coffee. - -“It’s make or break, to-morrow, boys,” said Captain Hi. “We’ll start -as early as we can see, and push right through. Ought to strike water -soon. The nearer we get to the mountains the better the chance for -water from them.” - -Sunrise of the third day caught them plodding ahead, the poor mules -groaning and wheezing, the wagon rolling sluggishly, and Davy, like -the rest, with mouth open and tongue bone dry, in the wake. The cloud -things in the horizon had remained stationary; some of them were -whitish, some purplish; and mountains they certainly were! - -About ten o’clock Billy cried out thickly. - -“Water, fellows! Look at those mules’ ears! They smell it!” - -“’Pears like a creek yonder, sure,” mumbled Captain Hi. “Don’t be -disappointed, though, if it’s another mirage.” For they had been fooled -several times by the heat waves picturing water. - -“Those mules smell water, just the same, I bet you,” insisted Billy. - -Far in the distance shimmered now a thin fringe of green. The mules -actually increased their pace; they broke into a labored trot; and -shambling heavily behind the outfit pressed on. Left-over groaned and -dropped, to lie and moan dismally. - -“I’m dying,” he wheezed. “I can’t move a step. Are you fellows going on -and leave me?” - -There was no holding the mules. As they forged along Billy exclaimed -quickly: - -“Wait here, Left-over. Go ahead, fellows. I’ll fetch him back a drink.” - -And seizing the coffee-pot he sturdily ran and stumbled to the fore. -All hastened after him, rivalling the frantic mules, but he beat. - -Water it was! When they approached it did not vanish as a mirage would; -and they met Billy returning with coffee-pot actually dripping as its -precious contents slopped over. - -Davy felt a strong impulse to halt Billy, wrest the pot from him, and -drink long and deep. But of course this was only a thought. Puffing, -Billy passed. - -“There’s plenty water waiting you,” he announced. “I’ll bring Left-over -on after he’s had his drink.” - -Yes, water it was――a real stream flowing crooked and shallow in a deep -bed bordered by brush and willows. The trail led to a ford. Wagon and -all, the mules fairly plunged in, and burying their noses to their eyes -gulped and gulped. First Jim, then in quick succession Davy and Captain -Hi and Mr. Baxter (who was the last of all) imitated the mules. Whew, -but that drink was a good long one! It seemed to Davy, as he sucked -again and again, that he simply could not swallow fast enough. - -“Some head stream or other, I reckon,” finally spoke Captain Hi. -“Shouldn’t wonder if we had water now all the way in. We’re getting -where the drainage from the mountains begins to cut some figger.” - -Billy arrived with Left-over. They spent the rest of the day beside the -welcome stream; and by morning they left about as strong as ever. - -The trail that they were following now crossed at least one stream a -day, so that the water cask was kept filled. The buffalo jerky had -been eaten or was not eatable; but antelope and black-tail deer were -abundant. So the trail proved pleasant. Captain Hi called attention -to the fact that the water was growing colder to the taste; and he -said that the snow mountains must therefore be nearer. Indeed, the -mountains were nearer; they lined the whole western horizon, and made a -humpy, dark ridge extending from straight ahead far up into the north. -A haze like to a fog veiled them much of the time, and the Hee-Haw -party were always expecting a better view. - -Anyway, there were the Rocky Mountains in sight; and little by little -the trail was approaching them. Yet it was a long, long trail, and who -would have imagined that the plains were so broad from Leavenworth to -the digging! - -However, one morning a surprise occurred. The trail had been threading -a little divide which evidently separated one stream from another. A -few pines were growing on it. They smelled good. When the mules had -tugged the wagon over the last rise and were descending a splendid -spectacle unfolded to the eyes of the Hee-Haws. Involuntarily they -cheered――hooray! and again hooray! For right before them was the main -trail once more, with the wagons of emigrants whitening it and with a -stage dashing along. - -Down hastened the Hee-Haws, even the mules being glad of company. - -“Hooray for Cherry Creek and the diggin’s, strangers!” was the -greeting, as the Hee-Haw party entered at a break in the toiling -procession. - -“How much further, lads?” asked Captain Hi. - -“Whar?” - -“To the mountains?” - -“Seventy miles to the diggin’s, we hear tell. This is the head o’ -Cherry Creek, hyar; and as soon as the fog lifts you’ll see what you’re -looking for, I reckon.” - -The fog, which had cloaked the horizon since sunrise, already was -thinning; and staring, the Hee-Haws waited the result. - -“I see them!” cried Jim, waving his battered hat. - -“Where, Jim?” - -“Yonder, straight in front.” - -“So do I!” yelped Billy. “There’s Long’s Peak――that big peak up at the -north end. I’ve seen him from the Overland Trail. Look at the snow, -will you!” - -“Isn’t it wonderful!” breathed the Reverend Mr. Baxter, in awed tone. - -And it was. Almost halting, spell-bound, they gazed. As the fog broke -and melted away it exposed a mighty barrier, extending in a vast sweep -from the right to the left――two hundred miles of mountains, the front -range soft and purplish, the back range dazzling white with snow. The -rugged plains, brushy and somewhat timbered, and lighter green where -meandered Cherry Creek, reached to their very base. - -“Where’s Pike’s Peak?” demanded Left-over. - -“That lone peak at our end, stranger,” informed an emigrant. - -Round and bulky and snow covered, standing out by himself, like an -exclamation-point completing the range, Pike’s Peak seemed the biggest -peak of all. - -“That’s not far. ’Tisn’t more than ten miles!” declared Left-over. -“Come on! Let’s go and climb it. Get out your picks, fellows! Don’t you -see a kind of yellow patch? That’s gold, I bet you.” - -“Keep cool, young man,” warned the emigrant. “You try to walk it before -night and you’ll find out how far that peak is. More than fifty miles, -I reckon.” - -“It looks powerful cold up yon,” quavered a woman. “They do say the -snow never melts off.” - -The trail was now much more interesting. Some of the emigrants had come -out, like the Hee-Haws, over the Smoky Hill Fork Trail, and the others -were from the Santa Fe Trail up the Arkansas River, to the south. A -trail along the base of the mountains connected this with Smoky Hill -Trail. Soon the trail by way of Republican River joined in. The triple -travel on Cherry Creek Trail was now so thick that Davy again wondered -where all the people were coming from. - -The marvellous panorama of the Rockies remained ever in sight before. -Nobody tired of gazing at it, wondering which of the peaks, besides -Pike’s Peak, were inlaid with gold and if a fellow could live on top of -Pike’s Peak or back yonder among those other peaks while getting out -his fortune. Some of the emigrants (Left-over included) asserted loudly -that they could see the gold shining! - -However, the first sight of the Pike’s Peak settlements――Denver and -Auraria――began to be watched for the most eagerly. The mountains -gradually drew nearer, Pike’s Peak gradually fell behind until on the -afternoon of the third day, down the winding, white-topped procession -swept a glad cry. Whips were flourished, sun-bonnets were waved, hats -were swung; men and women cheered, children shouted, dogs barked. - -“The Cherry Creek diggin’s! There they are! There are the gold fields -and the pound a day!” - -People seemed to forget the bad reports spread by the disgruntled -emigrants bound back to the States. Hopes were again high for success -and fortune at the end of the long, long trail. - -Sure enough, several miles before, in a basin set out from the -mountains a short distance, were a collection of wagons and tents and -other canvases, and a number of cabins, also, jumbled together on both -sides of the creek, apparently, and bounded before by a wooded river. -At the edges was a fringe of little camps like those of emigrants -stopping by the way. - -Evening was nigh; the sun was low over the snowy range; smoke was -curling from camp-fire and chimney. - -“We won’t make it to-day, fellows,” spoke Captain Hi. “But we’ll pull -in the first thing in the morning.” - -“Goodness! Look at the people pouring in by the northern trail, too!” -exclaimed Mr. Baxter. - -For glinting in the last rays of the sun a long wagon train of -emigrants, resembling crawling white beads, was heading in from the -opposite direction. - -“That’s the cut-off down from the Salt Lake Overland Trail up the -Platte,” quoth Billy, promptly. “The bull trains travel that trail.” - - - - -XIII - -THE CHERRY CREEK DIGGIN’S - - -With so many people making for Cherry Creek over several trails it -seemed a pity to waste a night by camping. But when darkness settled -the trail was ablaze with the camp-fires of the emigrants who, like the -Hee-Haw outfit, had halted until dawn. Afar blinked the lights of the -“Pike’s Peak settlements”; and miles distant, north across the plain, -were the bright dots betokening the camps of those emigrants entering -by the Salt Lake Overland Trail. - -The whole procession was early astir with the dawn; even Left-over was -up as soon as anybody, eager to be digging out his pound of gold a day. - -The trail down Cherry Creek was six inches deep with dust, ground to -powder by the constant wheels and hoofs. In a great cloud it rose as -the wagons and animals and persons ploughed through it; to the north -lifted other dust lines, where the rival travel likewise pressed -forward to the goal. It was an inspiring scene, almost as good as a -race; but Left-over grumbled: - -“I don’t call this Pike’s Peak,” he said. “And where’s Denver City? I -don’t see any city.” - -“City or not,” remarked the Reverend Mr. Baxter, “it’s a wonderful -thing, Davy――all these people, from all over the United States, setting -out overland, breaking new trails, and founding a town away out here, -six hundred miles across the desert, at the foot of those snowy -mountains! It’s taken a lot of pluck and a lot of trust in Providence.” - -“Where do you calculate on stopping, boys?” queried a black-eyed, -sharp-nosed man who was riding down along the column. - -“I don’t know,” drawled Captain Hi. “What’s the difference?” - -“All the difference in the world. Throw in with Auraria. She’s on the -mountain side of the Creek, and she’s bound to be the biggest city west -of Omaha. We’ve got the buildings, the people, and the ferry across the -Platte River. Remember that. Don’t let these Denver boomers fool you. -Stop at Auraria and we’ll treat you right.” - -And he rode on down the line talking about “Auraria.” - -But he was close followed by another man――a fatty, red-faced man. - -“Keep right on down the east side of the creek to Denver City,” he -proclaimed. “The travelled side, the side next to the States. Buy a -town lot in Denver; it’ll be a nest-egg for you while you’re at the -diggin’s. Denver, Denver, Denver! Remember the east side of the creek.” - -And he, also, proceeded on, chanting the praises of “Denver City.” The -Reverend Mr. Baxter laughed. - -Before they reached the settlement district the trail forked. A large -sign, pointing to the left-hand fork, said: “AURARIA. Direct Route to -the Gold Fields.” Another sign, pointing before, said: “Straight Ahead -for DENVER CITY. Nearest and Best.” - -“Which will it be, boys?” queried Captain Hi. - -“Let’s try Denver. It’s on this side of the creek and it’s named for -the governor of Kansas,” spoke Mr. Baxter. - -So they continued on down to Denver City. Denver and Auraria were -separated by only the almost dry channels of Cherry Creek, and both -extended along it nearly to the Platte River below, into which Cherry -Creek emptied. As soon as the Hee-Haw party had pitched their camp on -the outskirts of Denver, they hastened about their business. Davy and -Mr. Baxter paired off to wander about. Billy and Hi and Jim undertook -some errands. Left-over was wild to grab shovel and pick and pan and -start right in digging and washing. - -Many persons, in plain sight all up and down the creek bed, were -working hard panning for gold. Some of the emigrants had begun almost -before they had unharnessed their teams. And yonder, northwest, -glimpses of the Platte River, flowing past both Denver and Auraria, -gave glimpses also of other miners delving away. - -Billy walked straight to the nearest group in the creek bed. - -“How are you making it, pardner?” he asked. - -“Have you fellows come for your pound a day, too?” asked the man. Even -his wife was wielding a dish-pan while he shovelled. - -“You bet,” assured Billy. - -The woman paused, and the man laughed wearily and wiped his forehead. - -“You’ll be lucky if you make fifty cents,” he said. - -“Yes,” quavered the woman. “It’s awful poor picking along this creek. I -expect we’re all going to starve, provisions are getting so high.” - -“Where are the diggin’s, then?” - -“Yonder, up in the mountains, stranger. We hear tell they’ve made a big -strike there. We’re going on as soon as we can travel. But our oxen are -about petered out.” - -“How far’s Pike’s Peak?” demanded Left-over. “Where’s the Pike’s Peak -country? Why don’t you go to Pike’s Peak?” - -“That’s Pike’s Peak down south, seventy-five miles,” answered the man. -“They call this the Pike’s Peak country, but it’s only a name. I reckon -you’ve heard of them sliding down Pike’s Peak and scraping up the gold -as they slide. Don’t you believe it, mister. The peak’s above snow line -and the ground is frozen solid. See that line of wagons? They’re all -heading to the new Gregory diggin’s, west in the mountains about forty -miles. That’s the big strike.” - -“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Billy. - -Davy felt his heart sink; this, then, was not the end of the -gold-seekers’ trail, and the snowy mountains, topping the barrier of -the tumbled foot-hills, looked like a hard country. - -“Come, Davy,” said the Reverend Mr. Baxter. “We’ll see the sights -first, anyway.” - -So they left Left-over, hauling out his pick and spade and gold-pan to -join the squads working along the creek; and Hi and Jim and Billy, who -set forth on errands; and trudged away “to see the sights.” - -“This gold craze is all right as a means of attracting the people -here,” remarked the Reverend Mr. Baxter, thoughtfully. “But the most -wonderful part to me is the settlement itself. There must be fifteen -hundred population already in scarce a year, and emigrants are pouring -in at the rate of a thousand a day, I hear. There are fifty thousand -on the way, Dave. I don’t give a snap for the mines; but look, what -has happened! This gold excitement is going to settle the plains. The -United States has jumped at a leap from the Missouri River six or seven -hundred miles to the mountains. With a city here, and cities at the -other end, there’ll soon be cities in between. A whole lot of waste -country is due to be made useful.” - -“I don’t call this much of a city yet,” commented Davy, considerably -disappointed over the end of his trip. - -“Well,” said Mr. Baxter, “it’s the starter for one if the people don’t -starve to death. The weak hearts will go back; the strong ones will -stick; it’s only a question of holding out for a while until the land -is cultivated.” - -Truly, Denver was a strange collection of tents and shacks, with a -few good buildings. The houses were of hewn logs, sod roofs and dirt -floors, and the furniture was made mostly from slabs and planks. There -were few windows; and these were filled with sacking stretched across -or else had wooden shutters. As far as Davy could see, the whole town -did not have a pane of glass. - -However, the streets (and particularly the two main streets named -Blake and Larimer) were thronged with people as thick as the crowds at -the other end of the route, Leavenworth. Indians, Mexicans and whites -fairly jostled elbows, and conversation in every variety of speech was -heard. The whites wore costumes ranging from the broadcloth frock coat -and flowing trousers of the St. Louis and New York merchant to the -flannel shirt, jeans trousers and heavy boots of the regular plainsman -and miner. The Mexicans wore their broad, high-peaked hats and their -serapes or gay Mexican blankets, draped from their shoulders. The -Indians stalked about bare-headed, and enveloped in their blankets -also. There were few women. - -Several stores handling general merchandise had been opened, but -according to the signs goods were expensive. One sign said: “Antelope -Meat, 4 cents a lb.” Picks and spades were the cheapest; they could -be bought for fifteen cents apiece, and nobody seemed to be buying -at that! This was a bad sign; it showed how disgusted many of the -overlanders had become when they found that they could not dig gold out -by the pound where they stopped! - -Right in the centre of Denver was a large village of Indians, camped in -their tipis. By the hundreds they were lounging about, men, women and -children, the men unclothed except for a girdle about the waist, and -the children wearing nothing at all. - -“Arapahoes,” pronounced Mr. Baxter. “Come on, Davy. There’s the stage. -Let’s go over to the hotel.” - -A large cloth sign before a long one-story log building said: “Denver -House.” It was next to the Arapahoe village. People were hurrying -across to this hotel, for a stage-coach, with crack of whip and cheer -from passengers and driver, had halted short in front of it. - -The coach, drawn by its four mules, dusty and lathered, bore the -lettering: “Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Co.” So this, then, was -the daily Leavenworth stage. Already the street before the hotel was -crowded with onlookers who had gathered to receive the coach. When Davy -and Mr. Baxter arrived the travel-worn passengers were clambering out. -The first was Mr. Majors himself! Davy recognized the long beard and he -and Mr. Baxter pressed forward to welcome their friend. - -“Why, hello, boys,” quoth Mr. Majors. “Where’d you drop from?” - -“Just got in,” answered Mr. Baxter, shaking hands, as did Davy. “We -came by mule and wagon with Billy Cody and two or three others.” - -“How?” - -“Up the Smoky.” - -“Joined the gold rush, did you?” - -“Yes, sir. But I’ve about decided I’d rather plant potatoes.” - -“How about you, Dave?” queried Mr. Majors. - -“I’d like to eat one,” asserted Davy ruefully. - -“You’ve got the right idea, I guess,” approved Mr. Majors. “But I -understand Horace Greeley has told the people here they ought to plant -potatoes, and they laughed at him. Potatoes are a better crop than -gold, in my opinion; but this country certainly doesn’t look very -promising for them. How people are going to live I don’t know. It will -be good for the freighting business, though. We’ll be hauling stuff in -here with every team we can muster. Did you know we’ve taken over the -stage line, too?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Well, we have. It’s run by Russell, Majors & Waddell now. Call in on -me before I leave, and I’ll give you a pass to Leavenworth in case you -want to go back.” - -“All right. Thank you, Mr. Majors.” - -“If I were you, my lad, I wouldn’t stay around here long,” continued -Mr. Majors to Davy. “This place is going to be a good place, and I -haven’t any doubt that lots of gold will come out of these mountains -as soon as the people are experienced in finding it. But looking for -gold haphazard is a poor job for a boy. I think you’ll do much better -on the plains. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, you know; -and there’s a big work to be done in helping these people live. If the -freight outfits aren’t kept moving the diggings will starve. If you’ll -come in to Leavenworth we’ll put you to work with the bull trains.” - -“You’d better do it, Davy,” advised Mr. Baxter. And Davy soberly nodded. - -“I guess I will, then.” - -“I’m up at our Nebraska City office most of the time now,” said Mr. -Majors. “But you’ll find Mr. Russell at Leavenworth and I’ll tell him -to fix you out.” And Mr. Majors shouldered his way into the hotel. - -“Whar’s the post-office, stranger?” asked a voice; and turning they -faced an emigrant evidently newly arrived. - -“I don’t know. We’re lost around here, ourselves,” explained Mr. Baxter. - -“Pardon. I tella the way,” spoke somebody else. He was a tall, -swarthy-visaged man, with heavy black moustache and black bushy -eyebrows, a large meerschaum pipe in his mouth. However, he was neatly -dressed, even to natty shoes. He looked like a foreigner, and his -accent sounded foreign. He continued rapidly: “That beeg house w’ere -you see-a the line of men.” - -“Thank ’ee,” acknowledged the emigrant, after a hearty stare. And he -strode off. - -“And you, signors? Canna I direct you zomeplace?” inquired the foreign -man, with a bow. - -“We’re just looking around, is all,” informed Mr. Baxter. - -“Then later. Perhappa for the hair or the whiskers; perhappa for the -wash. Permitta me.” And with another bow he handed to Mr. Baxter and to -Davy his card. - -It read: “H. Murat. Tonsorial Artist. Shaves, Trims and Cuts. Laundry -Done.” - -“Do you know who he is?” piped another voice at Davy’s side, as the -dark foreigner disappeared in the crowd. “He’s a count, a real Italian -count.” - -The speaker was a slender, fair-haired little fellow, not much older -than Dave himself. - -“He’s Count Murat. His father was a big man in Italy. But out here the -count’s a barber and his wife takes in washing.” - -“I declare!” ejaculated Mr. Baxter. “And where did you come from, son?” - -“From the States. I’ve been up in the diggin’s, but I froze my feet and -I’m going home.” - -“Are your folks here?” - -“No, sir. I ran away. But I’ve got enough and when I reach home I’m -going to stay there.” - -“Well, you’d better,” approved Mr. Baxter. “You’re too young to be out -here alone.” - -“I guess I am,” admitted the little fellow. “Life out here is fierce -unless you’re used to it.” - -“How are the diggin’s?” queried Davy, eagerly. - -“Forty miles into the mountains――and then always a little farther,” -asserted the young fellow. “If you can stick it out and don’t freeze to -death or starve to death you may make a few hundred dollars――and you -may not. Did you ever mine?” - -“No,” said Davy, and Mr. Baxter shook his head, smiling. - -“Then you’re tenderfeet like I am. That’s the trouble in there. Half -the people don’t know how to find gold and the other half don’t know -it when they do find it. It’s fierce, I tell you. _I’m_ bound home, -busted. I had to walk in, fifty miles; but I’ve earned just enough to -take me through to the Missouri.” - -“How?” asked Davy. - -“Sweeping out for one of the gambling houses,” and with a gesture of -disgust the slender youngster turned away. - -Mr. Baxter watched him a moment. - -“Davy,” he uttered, “that’s no boy. That’s a girl. Great Scott! What a -place for a girl!” - -And later they found out that Mr. Baxter had spoken the truth. They -were glad to learn that the pretended boy took the next stage back to -Leavenworth and reached there safely. - -“Let’s try our luck at the post-office,” proposed Mr. Baxter. “I’d like -to get a letter, myself.” - -They threaded their way in the direction of the office. The mail had -recently come in, for from the post-office window a line of men, single -file, extended over a block. However, before they two took their places -Billy Cody stopped them. - -“I asked for your mail,” he announced. “There wasn’t any. I got a -letter from ma. All she said was: ‘Dear Will. Let us know how you are. -We are well. Mother.’ And I had to pay fifty cents for it down from -Laramie. The new stage line carries letters for twenty-five cents. Wish -ma had written more for the money. She might just as well.” - -“What’s the news, Billy? What are you and the rest of the outfit going -to do?” - -“Hi and Jim and I are going on up to the diggin’s right away. See that -line of travel?” And Billy pointed to the constant procession of wagons -and of people afoot, extending from the settlement as far as the eye -could reach, westward into the hills fifteen miles distant. They’re all -going. Left-over’s quit and joined another outfit. He couldn’t wait. -Jim and Hi are buying supplies. Did you notice the prices? Eggs are -two dollars and a half a dozen. Milk fifty cents a quart. Flour ten -dollars for a fifty-pound sack. Reckon beans and sowbelly will do for -us. They say even game is scarce around the diggin’s. - -“If you fellows don’t mind I believe I’ll stay around here for a while -till people cool down a little,” said the Reverend Mr. Baxter. - -“Cool down!” exclaimed Billy. “Huh! The stage driver says he passed ten -thousand emigrants all heading this way!” - -“Then I guess I won’t be missed,” laughed Mr. Baxter. - -“How about you, Dave?” asked Billy. - -Davy hesitated. What the “boy” (who was a girl) had told them rather -weighed on his mind. And the same old story of “beans and sowbelly” did -not sound inviting any longer. - -“We saw Mr. Majors. He offered Dave a job freighting and a pass to -Leavenworth,” put in Mr. Baxter. - -“Take it if you want to, Dave,” said Billy, quickly. “Life in the -diggin’s will be mighty tough, but I’ve got started and I’m going in. -You do as you please.” - -“Well,” faltered Dave, “I reckon maybe I’ll stay out a while.” - -“All right,” quoth Billy. “We’ll see you before we leave. We want to -pull right out, though.” - -Nothing could stop Hi and Jim and Billy; and sure enough that -afternoon they did pull out for the diggings forty and more miles west, -among the mountains. They settled with Mr. Baxter and Dave for the two -shares in the Hee-Haw outfit, and left with a cheer. - -Davy felt a momentary twinge of regret that he was not going, too; but -when he remembered what Mr. Majors had said about “haphazard looking” -and a “bird in the hand” he decided that, after all, he had done what -was best. The work of bridging the plains was a great work and very -necessary if these settlements at the mountains were to live. - -“Let’s go over to Auraria and see that, Dave,” invited Mr. Baxter. -“Then we can find a place to stop in over night. I’m tired of bedding -out on the ground.” - -Cherry Creek was almost dry. Camps and cabins had been located right -in the middle of it, so they easily walked across. Auraria was larger -than Denver, but the buildings were not so good. They were of rough -cottonwood logs, whereas the Denver logs were smoothed and many were -of pine brought down from the timber in the hills. Auraria had the -newspaper, the _Rocky Mountain News_, whose press and type and so forth -had been hauled overland by the editor, Mr. W. N. Byers. Like Denver -City, Auraria was bustling with all kinds of people. - -“How are you, strangers? Don’t you want to buy a city lot and make your -fortune?” invited an alert man of the two Hee-Haws. - -“What’s the price?” asked Mr. Baxter. - -“What’ll you give? Cash or trade? The best lots in the city. Can’t be -beat.” - -“Will you take a sack of flour?” demanded Mr. Baxter. - -“Done!” snapped the man. “Flour’s better than money, friend. Where’s -your flour?” - -“Where are your lots?” - -“Right yonder. I’ll show you.” - -The man promptly led them on. The lots proved to be somewhere in the -midst of bare, sandy ground half a mile out from the business street. -They looked forlorn and lonely, and Davy did not think much of them. -Neither, evidently, did Mr. Baxter. One rude cabin stood there. - -“Cabin too?” queried Mr. Baxter. - -“Sure.” - -“How many lots?” - -“Five, my friend. Five of the finest lots in this bustling metropolis -for your sack of flour. And remember this is Auraria; ’tain’t measley -Denver. I reckon you could buy half of Denver for your flour and then -you’d be cheated.” - -“All right. We’ll take you, won’t we, Davy?” responded Mr. Baxter, -off-hand. “And we’ll move right in.” - -“Show me your flour and we’ll go to the land office and close the -deal.” - -So they delivered to him the flour. At the land office the clerk asked -their names. - -“This is the Jones’ flour, Dave,” reminded Mr. Baxter, eyeing Davy. -“We’ll have that deed made out to Jasper Jones; he’s on the way. -Meanwhile we’ll occupy the cabin.” - -That was certainly a good scheme――besides, as occurred to Dave, being -very honest. Only it seemed rather a high price to pay for just five -lots away from everywhere. The next time that Davy saw those lots they -were quoted at a thousand dollars apiece! - - - - -XIV - -DAVY SIGNS AS “EXTRA” - - -One more day in Denver and Auraria satisfied Dave. He had seen about -all there was to see, and had loafed long enough. He wanted to go to -work. However, many other people wanted to go to work, too. But work -was scarce and money scarcer, and provisions were tremendously high. -Travellers were constantly coming back from the mountains with tales -of woe and with empty pockets and sore feet. The great editor, Horace -Greeley, had advised people to plant crops; then he had continued on -west, for California. But the people were bent on getting rich all at -once by mining instead of waiting for crops. This made the situation -bad, especially for a boy. - -“You’d better take the stage back to-morrow, Dave,” counselled Mr. -Baxter. “I’ll see you later.” - -“Guess I will, then,” said Dave. “What will you do, though?” For he did -not like to desert his partner. - -“Oh,” laughed Mr. Baxter, “there’s a good living in hauling timber in -from the foothills. Another fellow has offered to furnish the team and -do the hauling if I’ll do the chopping. But that’s no life for a boy, -Dave. You’ll learn more, freighting out of Leavenworth; and then you -can go to school in the winter. See?” - -That sounded sensible. Thus the Hee-Haw outfit had divided: Billy Cody -and Hi and Jim and Left-over mining; Mr. Baxter cutting timber, and -Davy freighting across the plains. Such was life in the busy West. - -Davy engaged passage in the next morning’s Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak -stage, east bound to the States. It had taken the Hee-Haw outfit forty -days to come out; now Davy was going back in six. This was luxury. -The coach held six passengers, with one on the seat. There was a -school-teacher from Vermont, a merchant from Ohio, a banker from -Chicago, an army officer from Fort Leavenworth, a man and wife from -Boston, and Davy. All, except Davy, had been to the “diggin’s”――and the -Ohio merchant let slip the fact that he had located a good claim there -where he and his partner were washing out two hundred dollars a day! So -he was returning for his family. - -Yes, it was an interesting company; but as best of all, the driver was -Hank Bassett! - -“Why, hello!” greeted Hank of Dave. “Bully for you. Get up here on the -seat. I’ll take you through in style.” - -“I engaged that seat,” objected the school-teacher. - -“Not much,” retorted Hank. “It’ll make you seasick. I can have what I -want in this seat; and the boy rides there. I can depend on him if I -need a hand, and that’s very important, mister.” - -“You know him, do you?” - -“You’re right I know him. We’ve worked together before, haven’t we, -Dave?” - -Davy blushed, somewhat embarrassed by Hank’s hearty manner; but Hank -had ordered, and Hank was boss, and Dave climbed to the seat beside him. - -With crack of whip and cheer from the crowd gathered to watch, at a -gallop out surged the four mules for the nigh seven hundred miles to -the Missouri River and the States. Davy thoroughly enjoyed that trip. -Hank sent his mules forward at a rattling pace; for, as he explained, -he changed teams at every station, eighteen or twenty miles apart. -Night and day the stage travelled, making its one hundred miles each -twenty-four hours, halting only to change teams and for meals. - -And night and day the Pike’s Peak pilgrims were in sight. The westward -travel was even more pronounced than earlier in the year, when the -Hee-Haws had joined in it. There were new signs, too, on the wagons. -“Bound for the Land of Gold.” “Family Express; Milk for Sale!” “Mind -Your Own Business.” “We Are Off for the Peak. Are You?” “Hooray for -the Diggin’s!” These and other announcements Davy read on the prairie -schooners as the hurrying stage passed. - -“Horace Greeley, the New York editor, wrote back east that the Pike’s -Peak country is O. K.,” said Hank to Davy. “That’s what’s set the -tide flowin’ in earnest. People were waitin’ to get his opinion. He -inspected the diggin’s, and he says the gold is thar――although most -people would do better to take up land in Kansas and go to farmin’. If -you call this trail a busy one you ought to see the Salt Lake Overland -Trail up the Platte. I hear three hundred wagons a day pass Fort -Kearney. This booms the freightin’ business. The old man (Hank meant -Mr. Majors) and his pards are puttin’ on every team they can lay hands -to for haulin’ goods an’ provisions. Why, this hyar stage line is usin’ -a thousand mules and fifty coaches. You’re thinkin’ of bull whackin’, -are you?” - -“Mr. Majors offered me a job,” answered Davy. - -Hank spat over the lines. - -“It’s a good firm to work for,” he said. “And a man’s job. After you’ve -bull whacked a while you’ll be drivin’ stage like I am.” - -That sounded attractive. To handle four mules at a gallop, dragging a -coach across the plains in spite of Indians and weather, appeared quite -a feat. Driving stage meant taking care of people as well as of animals. - -However, holding up one’s end with a freight outfit was not to be -despised, these days. On arriving at Leavenworth Davy lost no time in -reporting at the Russell, Majors & Waddell office. Mr. Majors was not -here. He had removed his family up to Nebraska City, on the Missouri -above Leavenworth, where a branch office had been established in -order to relieve the crowded state of the Leavenworth shipping yards. -However, if Mr. Majors was gone, here was Mr. Russell, as snappy and -alert as ever, taking care of whatever came his way. - -“All right, my boy,” he greeted promptly. “If you want a job you’re -just in time. When did you get in?” - -“This noon, Mr. Russell.” - -“I suppose you’re ready to start back again for the mountains?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Good. We’ve got a train made up to leave in about an hour. Charley -Martin’s wagon master. You’ll find him a fine fellow. He comes from -a wealthy family in my home town, Lexington, Missouri. You’ll be an -‘extra’ at forty dollars a month, and have a mule to ride. I expect you -to do as well as Billy Cody’s done. You know what your duties are, do -you? You’ll act as the wagon master’s orderly, or messenger, to carry -word along the line; and if necessary you’ll fill the place of any hand -who’s sick. Let’s see――you signed the pledge once, didn’t you?” - -“Yes, Mr. Russell.” - -“Well, we changed that pledge a little to make it stronger. Mr. Majors -has drawn up a new one. Read it before you sign,” and Mr. Russell -reached out his tanned, freckled hand for a pad of printed forms. - -Davy read: “I, ――――, do hereby swear, before the Great and Living God, -that during my engagement and while I am in the employ of Russell, -Majors & Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane language; -that I will drink no intoxicating liquors; that I will not quarrel or -fight with any other employe of the firm, and that in every respect I -will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct -all my acts as to win the confidence and esteem of my employers. So -help me God.” - -This was an impressive promise, but it sounded just like the strict and -Christian Mr. Majors. Dave had no hesitation in signing it. - -“All right,” crisply approved Mr. Russell. “If you keep that pledge -you’ll never be far wrong. Here’s your Bible. To every man employed in -our trains we give a Bible. There’s no time or place when the Bible -isn’t a help and a comfort. The more of them we get on the plains the -better. Now I’m going out to the camp. You come along and I’ll start -you off.” - -Davy tucked the compact little leather-bound Bible into his pocket, and -followed Mr. Russell’s wiry active figure out of the door. Russell, -Majors & Waddell certainly organized their business on somewhat unusual -lines; Davy had heard the pledge and the Bible both laughed at by -outsiders as being foolishness for running bull trains. But nobody was -enabled to point out the harm done, and few denied that considerable -good might result. At any rate, no better bull outfits crossed the -plains than those of Russell, Majors & Waddell. They did what no other -outfits could do; nothing stopped them. - -The streets of Leavenworth were busier than ever, with emigrants, -teamsters, rivermen, soldiers, and Indians――Kickapoos, Osages and -Pottawattamies; with wagons, oxen, mules and horses. The company’s -freight trains were started from a large camp on the outskirts of town. -Hither Mr. Russell, with Davy in tow, hastened. - -Charley Martin was speedily found working hard――together with the -assistant wagon master, who was nicknamed “Yank.” - -“Here’s your ‘extra,’ Charley,” announced Mr. Russell. - -Charley paused and wiped his forehead. He gazed, rather puzzled. - -“What name does he go by, Mr. Russell?” - -“Davy Scott.” - -“Sometimes they call me ‘Red,’ too,” volunteered Davy. - -Charley Martin smiled; and when he smiled, Davy instantly liked him. - -“Oho! This must be Billy Cody’s pard on the trail and at the Cody home, -I reckon. I’ve heard about him, but I never had the pleasure of meeting -him. You must have been growing some, haven’t you, Red? I thought you -were a runt.” And Davy fidgeted, embarrassed. During his sturdy life in -the open air he had indeed been growing; he had shot up and broadened -out, and had acquired a steady eye and a manner of self-reliance. -“Where’ve you been keeping yourself lately?” continued Charley. - -“I’ve just got back from Pike’s Peak.” - -“Good for you. Well, if you’ve travelled with Billy Cody, and Mr. -Russell recommends you, too, you’ll do.” And Charley called to his -assistant: “Here’s our ‘extra,’ Yank.” - -Charley was small and compact, tanned and gray-eyed, and so quick and -cheery that anybody felt like calling him by his first name at once. -“Yank,” the assistant wagon boss, was high-shouldered, long-legged, -slouchy, and very different from Charley. His sullen face was bristly -with carroty stubble, his eyes were small and close together, and his -lips were thin and hard-set, leaking tobacco-juice. Him, Davy did not -fancy at all; and by his glance and contemptuous grunt he evidently did -not fancy Davy. - -Further exchange of conversation was interrupted by the incisive voice -of Mr. Russell reproving a teamster who had a perverse ox in hand. - -“My man, don’t you understand there’s to be no cursing while you’re -working for this company?” - -“I’m not cursing,” retorted the man, with a dreadful oath. - -“But you’re cursing right this minute!” asserted Mr. Russell, sharply. - -“I’m not, either,” answered the man, with another oath. - -“Why, you curse every time you open your mouth,” asserted Mr. Russell, -red with anger. - -“I don’t,” insisted the man, as before. - -That was too much for Mr. Russell. As if not knowing quite what to do -with such an ignoramus as this he walked off, scratching his head, and -left the puzzled teamster scratching his. - -“Well, Red, get busy if you’re to travel with this outfit,” bade -Charley to Davy; and proceeded to give orders right and left. - -The train was made up and almost ready to start. The last covers were -being drawn taut, and the last wagon, which had been delayed to load in -town, was approaching. - -“All set?” shouted Charley to the teamster who, standing beside the -rear pair of his team, seemed to have been appointed as the leader. - -The teamster nodded. - -“All set.” - -“String out,” ordered Charley, and the word was carried along: “String -out, boys! Fall in!” - -The lead teamster flung his lash; it flipped forward and cracked like a -pistol-shot over the backs of his twelve oxen. - -“Spot! Dandy! Yip! Yip with you!” - -The twelve oxen lunged all together as a well-trained team; and -creaking, the huge wagon rolled ahead. - -“Haw! Whoa――haw! Hep! Hep!” - -To the shouts, and the volley of whip-snappers, the grunts of the oxen, -creakings of the wagons and yokes, and rattle of the ox-chains, the -train uncoiled from the mass that it had formed and lengthened out into -a long line. Led by that first teamster whose “bulls,” sleek-coated, -evidently were his pride, the white-topped bull train stretched out for -the farther West. - -Charley, the wagon master, rode well up with the leading team, and -Davy, his assistant, as his aide or orderly, rode at his elbow ready -for orders. Yank, assistant wagon master, was down the line. At the -rear, behind the few loose cattle taken along for use in case of -accidents, rode on a mule the “cavvy” herder――a young Eastern chap who -was Mr. Waddell’s nephew and wanted to learn plains life. “Cavvy” of -course was the short for “cavvy-yard,” and “cavvy-yard” was the slang -for “caballada,” Spanish of “horse-herd.” - -There were twenty-six wagons in the train: twenty-five loaded with -freight and one mess-wagon carrying the supplies. They were enormous -wagons, some of them seventeen feet long, the broad boxes five or six -feet deep, the great wheels wide tired; and over all a flaring hood of -canvas labelled “Osnaburg” (the trademark of the famous mills which -furnished most of the duck and sheeting used on the plains), stretched -upon bows, nailed fast at the edges to the wagon-box, but at either end -puckered tight by draw ropes, leaving an oblong hole. As Davy knew, -the wheels, axles and other running gear were the very best of wood. -Even the ends of the axles, on which fitted the wheels, were wood. -The wheels were held on by an iron linch-pin thrust through the axle -outside the hub. These wooden axles on the sandy, dusty plains required -much greasing, and from the rear axle of each wagon hung a pot of tar -for greasing. On the reach-pole, which was the pole projecting from -underneath the box, out behind the wagon, was slung a ten-gallon keg of -water. - -Each wagon was drawn by twelve oxen, yoked together in six pairs. This -was the regular fashion; twenty-five freight wagons to a train, and six -yoke of bulls to a wagon. There were thirty-one men in the outfit: a -teamster for each of the twenty-six wagons, the wagon master and the -assistant wagon master, Davy the “extra” another “extra” (who was a -regular teamster), and the cavvy herder. The teamsters trudged beside -their teams; the only persons who rode were Charley and Yank and Davy -and the cavvy herder, on their mules. - -The freight train was called a “bull train”; the wagons were “bull -wagons”; the oxen were “bull teams”; the teamsters were “bull -whackers”; the wagon master was the “bull wagon boss”; and the whole -array was a “bull outfit.” - -Stretched out in a line a quarter of a mile long, the train made a -handsome sight to Davy, proudly looking back from his post at the flank -of Charley’s mule. The oxen, fresh for the start, with heads low and -necks fitted into great wooden yoke and bow, pulled stanchly, at a -dignified, steady plod, keeping the heavy ox-chains tight. The majority -of the “bulls” were spotted white and red or black; there were a number -of roans and reds and a few black. The head team were black, except -the pair next to the wagon, which were red. Several had been dehorned -because they were fighters. - -The teamsters strode sturdily, cracking their whips, shouting to their -teams and to one another, and occasionally singing. One and all wore -neither coat nor vest, but heavy flannel shirt of red or blue, and a -silk or cotton handkerchief about the neck. Their shirts were tucked -into coarse trousers, and the trousers into high, stout cowhide boots. -On their heads were the regular broad-brimmed, flat-crowned felt hats -that plains travellers liked best. About the waists of the most of the -men were strapped one or two big Colt’s revolvers, and through the belt -was thrust a butcher-knife. They all had a gun somewhere, either belted -on or else as a yager or a rifle stowed handily in the wagon. And every -teamster carried, trailing or coiled, his long-lashed whip. - -The train was, as Charley remarked roundly to Dave, “a crack outfit.” - -“We’ve got some of the top-notcher teams and whackers of the whole -Russell, Majors & Waddell concern,” he said. “There’s not a better -bull-whip slinger or a better six yoke of bulls on the trail than -right here with this lead wagon. Of course, I suppose we’ve some -crooked sticks, like every train has; but they’ve got to behave -themselves while I’m boss.” - -The train was bound for Denver by the regular Overland Trail up the -Platte River, through central Nebraska. The Government road from -Leavenworth, to strike the main trail, was that travelled road which -crossed the Salt Creek Valley; Davy seized the chance to dart aside for -a moment and say “how-de-do” to Mother Cody and the girls. He gave them -what word he could of Billy, but they gave him none, for they had not -had time to hear from Billy since he had reached the diggings. - -The bull train toiled on over the hill and out of the valley. Now it -was fairly launched upon its day-by-day journey of 700 miles. It did -not travel alone. The trail before and behind was alive with other -outfits, chiefly emigrants, likewise bound for the “Peak,” and Charley -asserted that when the main trail was entered, at Fort Kearney, where -the travel from Omaha and St. Joe and Nebraska City joined with the -travel from Leavenworth, there’d scarcely be room to camp! - -“How long will we be on the road, do you think?” asked Dave. - -“Leavenworth to Denver? About fifty days if we have reasonable luck. -The trail’s so crowded and dusty and fodder’s so scarce I don’t reckon -we’ll average more than twelve miles a day. We’re hauling seventy -hundred pounds in some of those wagons. But I have averaged fifteen -miles a day; and travelling empty a smart bull train headed for home -can make twenty.” - -It now was past midsummer; it would be fall when the train reached the -mountains, and winter before it got home again. - - - - -XV - -FREIGHTING ACROSS THE PLAINS - - -“Do you know,” drawled Charley Martin, lazily, after supper this -evening, “there’s a heap of money wrapped up in one of these bull -outfits?” - -They had made camp at sunset――and the sight had been an inspiring one. -On order from Charley, the lead wagon had turned from the trail and -halted; the second wagon had pulled up opposite and also halted; the -third wagon had halted behind the first, a little outside of it, with -tongue pointing out and the fore wheels about on a line with the other -wagon’s rear wheels. The fourth wagon had halted in similar position -behind the second wagon. And so forth. Each wagon widened the circle -until it was time for them to begin to edge the other way and narrow -the circle. At the last the circle was complete, save for an opening at -either end. When the ox-chains had been linked from wagon-wheel to next -wagon-wheel then the bull corral, as it was called, was finished. Or, -no; after the bulls had been unyoked and driven to water and pasture -each wagon tongue was hung off the ground, slung in the draw ropes of -the front end of the hood. This weight kept the canvas hood pulled taut -in case of storm. - -It took considerable skill in driving to swing the long bull teams and -land the wagons just right to form the corral. Yes, and the animals -needed to be well trained, too. By the way that all went to work this -wagon outfit knew their business. - -The corral was useful for yoking the bulls and for standing off -Indians. No Indians dared to charge a wagon corral when the men inside -it had guns and ammunition. - -The bulls were put out to pasture in charge of two teamsters selected -as herders. The men had been divided into four messes. Each mess chose -a cook and their water carrier and fuel gatherers and guards――when -guard was needed. Davy was in Captain Charley’s mess, which consisted -of Charley and Yank, Davy, the cavvy herder, the lead teamster, whose -name was Joel Badger, and the extra teamster, Henry Renick, who did the -cooking. This was the smallest mess. - -Each mess had its fire, about which the men lounged after eating, to -smoke their pipes and joke and tell stories. - -“Yes, siree; there’s a lot of money wrapped up in a bull outfit,” quoth -Wagon Boss Charley. “Take this train here. The most of those wagons are -‘Murphies’ (by which he meant wagons manufactured by J. Murphy, of St. -Louis), or else the Conestoga pattern built down at Westport (and by -Westport was meant Kansas City). Only the best of stuff goes into those -wagons. Hickory, generally――though osage orange is said to be better, -for it won’t warp. But second growth hickory and sound white oak answer -the purpose if they’re so well seasoned that they won’t shrink or warp. -This dry air out on these plains plays the dickens with wheels; it saps -them dry and makes them so they want to fall to pieces. Well, I reckon -you all know this better than I do. But as I was going to say, one of -these wagons figures easily three hundred dollars, including bows and -canvas. Then, bulls have been seventy-five dollars a yoke, but they’re -rising to double that. Taking the six yoke at five hundred dollars, -and adding the yokes and bows and chains and other gear, you’ll have -nigh to a thousand dollars in each wagon outfit. With twenty-five and -twenty-six wagons making a train there’s twenty-five thousand dollars -in outfit alone. And Russell, Majors & Waddell have bull trains like -this every five or six miles clear across from the Missouri River to -Salt Lake!” - -“Not to speak of the wages of the men and the cost of the supplies,” -added Joel Badger. - -“Yes, sir; not to mention the thirty or more men with every train at a -dollar a day up; and the beans and flour and sowbelly and coffee they -use.” - -“Just the same,” observed Joel, “I hear that in Fifty-six, before -Waddell joined, Majors & Russell cleaned up about seventy thousand -dollars with three hundred wagons at work.” - -Charley nodded. - -“You can sum up for yourself. We’re hauling flour at nine cents a -pound, meat at fifteen cents, furniture at thirty cents, hardware at -ten cents; and my waybill shows we’re loaded with one hundred and -sixty-three thousand pounds of freight, averaging, I reckon, at least -fifteen cents.” - -“Which totals up between twenty-five and twenty-six thousand dollars, -as I make it,” proffered Joel. - -“Of course, the outfits don’t earn that both ways,” reminded Henry -Renick, scouring a skillet. “They travel back empty.” - -“Well, twenty-five thousand dollars for the round trip to the mountains -isn’t so bad,” said Charley. - -“No,” grunted Yank, the assistant wagon boss. “Russell, Majors & -Waddell are makin’ their profits, all right. They can sit at home an’ -take things easy. But the trail’s a hard life for the rest of us.” - -“Don’t you believe they take it easy,” retorted Charley. “Did you ever -hear of Alex Majors taking it easy? And look at Billy Russell, with -all the Leavenworth freighting on his shoulders. Besides, they know -that one big blizzard or one Indian war would wipe them out in spite of -their hustle. No; they’ve got the worry; we’ve got the picnic.” - -“’Twould serve ’em right if they did get wiped out once in a while,” -growled Yank, who evidently was as narrow-minded as his eyes indicated. -“That psalm-singin’ old whiskers has too many notions. No swearin’, no -drinkin’ no bull skinnin’, no fightin’, every man read the Bible an’ -lay up on Sunday! An outfit can’t do freightin’ on these plains an’ -follow any such rules as those.” - -“See here,” bade Charley, sternly. He was a gritty little chap. -“You’re new amongst us, my man, and I’ll warn you that when you speak -to us of Mr. Majors or Mr. Russell or Mr. Waddell either, you want to -do it civilly. They may have their peculiar notions of how to run a -bull outfit, but I notice they’ve made good already with about twenty -million pounds of Government freight, and that’s a pretty big contract. -They’re a firm whose word is equal to a United States banknote; and -there’s not a man who ever worked for them that won’t stick up for -Russell, Majors & Waddell. A kinder man than Mr. Majors never lived; -and if he tries to spread a little Christianity along the trail all the -more credit to him, and all the better for the rest of us. We need some -of that out here. The fact is a Russell, Majors & Waddell bull train is -the best on the trail, besides being decent.” - -“Well,” rapped Yank, “as long as I do the work I’m hired to do I’ll -allow no man to tell me how to act. When I signed that pledge for the -whiskers outfit I didn’t mean to keep it an’ I sha’n’t if I don’t -choose.” - -He stalked off; they gazed after――Charley with a keen glint in his gray -eyes. - -“There’s a man” spoke Henry the mess cook, “who’ll take it out on -animals when he gets mad. He’s just mean enough.” - -“He’ll not take it out on my team,” remarked Joel, quietly. “I don’t -whip my bulls.” - -“No, nor on mine,” asserted Henry. - -“Anybody who thinks he has to beat bulls to drive them doesn’t know how -to drive,” added Charley. - -That night they all slept on the ground under blankets and quilts -and buffalo robes; many of the men slept beneath their wagons. The -neck-yokes of the oxen, with an overcoat folded into the hollow of the -curve in them, made comfortable pillows. At least so Davy found his -when, to be a veteran bull whacker, he borrowed a yoke and tried. Two -men at a time night-herded the cattle. Davy, being an “extra,” did not -go on herd yet. - -The mess cooks were up at dawn preparing breakfast; and speedily the -collection of little camps was astir. The men called back and forth, -washed at the nearby creek, brought water in buckets, and what fuel -they found, and were ready for breakfast when breakfast was ready for -them. The company, Davy learned, furnished everything, even to the -gunny sacking in which buffalo chips and bull chips were gathered; -everything except the men’s revolvers. These the men owned. - -By the time that the breakfasts were over the cattle had been driven, -with shouts and crack of whip, into the wagon corral, where under a -dust cloud they stood grunting and jostling. Yank posted himself at one -gap of the corral Charley at the other. - -“Catch up! Catch up, boys!” called Charley, the wagon boss; the cry -was repeated, and the men sprang to their yokes. Every man with his -yoke on his shoulder, a yoke pin in his hand, another in his mouth, and -an ox-bow slung on his arm, the gang poured into the corral. It was -an interesting sight, and a number of emigrants who had camped near -gathered to witness. - -There was a rivalry among the men as to which should yoke up first. -Davy wondered how they found their bulls so readily; but in rapid -succession every man, working hard, had yoke and bows on a pair of his -team, and led them forth to his wagon. First the yoke was laid over -the neck of a bull, the bow was slipped under and the pins thrust in -to fasten bow to yoke; then the other bull was yoked; and this done, -dragging the chains they were led out in a hurry. This pair, Davy saw, -were the wheel team――the team next to the wagon. They supported the -wagon pole, which hung in a ring riveted to the centre of the yoke. As -soon as the wheel teams were hitched to the wagon the men hastened to -yoke and lead out the lead teams, which were the teams at the other end -of the six. Then the space was filled in by the four other teams, all -the chains were hooked, the men straightened out their six yoke, and -the train was ready to move. - -It all had been done, as Davy thought, very quickly; but Joel Badger, -whom Davy liked exceedingly, thought differently. - -“We make rather a botch of it at first,” said Joel, as beside his fine -team he stood, whip in hand, waiting for the word to start. “Some of -the bulls are sure to be green or ornery, and not used to their drivers -or each other. After they have pulled together for a time all the bulls -in each team will sorter flock in a bunch, in the corral, and a fellow -won’t have to hunt through the herd. You’ll see some fast work before -you get to the end of the trail.” - -“Aren’t the mules as good as bulls?” queried Davy. - -“No. They used to have mules and mule skinners instead of bull whackers -down on the Santa Fe Trail, and I reckon they’ve used ’em on the -Overland Trail, too. Bulls are better all ’round. They can walk as -fast as a mule if they’re pushed; they can live on grazing that a mule -can’t; and they’re not so liable to be stampeded. If Injuns run off any -cattle we can overtake ’em by mule or horse and fetch ’em back. No, for -freight hauling the bulls are the best. Those used down on the southern -trails are Texas cattle largely; small-bodied kind, with flaring big -horns. These we use in the north, on the Overland Trail, are some -Durhams, some Herefords, and so on. I reckon I’ve got about the best -team in the outfit; they’re black Galloways, with a yoke of red Devons.” - -“Line out, men! Hep!” called Wagon Boss Charley. - -Joel launched his whip with a tremendous crack above the backs of his -team. - -“Haw, Buck! Muley! Spot! Yip! Yip!” - -“Haw! Whoa――gee! Yip! Yip! Hep!” The air was full of dust and shouts -and cracking of whips; and one after another out for the trail rolled -the huge wagons, until the circle of the corral had straightened into -the day’s line. - -The teamsters walked at the left side of their teams until, when the -wind began to blow the dust into their faces, they changed about to the -clear side. They sang, they joked, occasionally they cracked their long -whips, and now and then one perched sideways on the wagon-pole behind -the wheel yoke, and swinging his legs rode a short distance. But nobody -entered a wagon; the men either walked or sat on the pole for a brief -rest. - -Charley, the wagon boss, kept position near the head of the column; -Yank, the assistant wagon boss, usually was found at the rear. Davy -sometimes was sent back with word from Charley; and once he was -dispatched five miles ahead to take a message to another wagon train. -He enjoyed these gallops over the prairie on official business, and he -enjoyed riding with Charley. - -“I suppose you know the make-up of a team,” proffered Charley, who -seemed disposed to teach Dave as much as he could. “The first yoke next -to the wagon are the wheel yoke; sometimes we call them the pole yoke. -The other yokes are the swing yokes, until you come to the leaders, and -these are the lead yoke. In a mule team the middle or swing spans are -the pointers. Fact is, a four-span mule team is divided into wheelers, -swing team, pointers and lead team. You didn’t time us this morning, -did you?” - -“No, sir,” confessed Davy. - -“I hear Mr. Majors timed his outfit once, when it was in good trim; -and it was sixteen minutes from the moment the men grabbed their yokes -until the teams were hitched and the train was ready to start. That’s -pretty fair for six yoke of bulls. I don’t believe we can beat it, but -we’re going to try after a bit.” - -“This noon I’ll show you how to pop a whip,” called Joel to Dave. - -The men used their whips chiefly for the noise they made. They drove -with the whips; the long lash flew out over the backs of the six yoke -and seemed to crack wherever the wielder wished it to crack. Sometimes -it barely flicked the back of some ox who required a little urging, but -it never landed hard. Those bull whips were like living things, and -in the hands of Joel and his rivals were as accurate as a rifle. The -most of the men carried their whips with the lash trailing over their -shoulder ready to be jerked forward like a cowboy’s rope. Dave felt a -burning ambition to “pop” a whip. It must be quite an art. - -The trail continued to be lined with emigrants, all pushing west, the -vast majority for the “Pike’s Peak diggin’s,” but a few for California -by way of the Overland Trail to Fort Laramie, and on over the South -Pass to Salt Lake and the farthest West. The road was littered with -cast-off stuff――so much of it that nobody seemed to think it worth -picking up again. - -“Great times for the Indians,” quoth Charley. “But they don’t savvy -stoves and furniture yet. What they like most is the hoop iron off of -the baled hay that the Government sends out to the posts. That hoop -iron is fine for arrow points; many a poor fellow crossing the plains -is killed with Government hoop-iron.” - -“Will we meet many Indians, do you think?” asked Davy. - -Charley shook his head. - -“We may meet a few gangs of beggars; but the trail is too thick just -now for much trouble. The Indians haven’t got roused yet and started -in on the war-path. But they will, later. I reckon if you get off the -trail a ways you’ll meet with plenty trouble, though. On the trail -there are so many outfits that they can help each other, you see. The -Indians are learning to shy off from bull outfits. We’re ready for them -any time, and it costs them too many scalps. But when these plains -begin to be settled with ranches then look out for the Indians.” - -That noon the train halted on the far side of a creek. According to -Joel, trains always tried to cross a creek before camping, in case a -sudden storm might come and hold the train back by swelling the ford. -They corralled, this noon, by a new evolution. One-half the train, in -regular order, formed a half of the circle; the other half then formed -the second half of the circle. This was called corralling with the -right and left wings. - -While dinner was being cooked and the bulls were herded off to water -and graze, the men lounged in the shade of their wagons. Dinner was the -same as supper and breakfast: fat salt pork or “sowbelly,” which came -to the plate in slabs six or eight inches thick; hot bread baked in -the kettle-like Dutch ovens; beans from the supply baked in the ashes -the night before; and black coffee with sugar. That was the regulation -until the buffalo and antelope country was reached. The last of the -sugar was used, too; after this camp, all the way to Denver the coffee -would be sugarless. But that was only ordinary. Nobody objected to the -menu; appetites were splendid. - -“Here,” spoke Joel, after dinner, rising, to Dave. “I said I’d show you -how to pop a whip, didn’t I?” - -“Joel can do it, all right,” approved Charley; and several other men -nodded, agreeing with him. - -And Bull Whacker Joel could. A heavy thing was that whip; the lash, of -braided buffalo hide, was eighteen feet long and thick like a snake in -the middle. It had a cracker of buck-skin, six inches long, split at -the end; and a hickory stock eighteen inches long. Joel said it cost -eighteen dollars in Leavenworth. Flicking it forward, from where it -trailed on the ground, he landed the tip wherever he wished. With the -cracker he picked up small objects at the full extent of the lash; he -snipped the tips from the sage and cut blossoms; and how he “popped”! - -“He’s a boss bull-whip slinger,” laughed Charley, approvingly. “You’ll -never see a better one to pick flies off the lead team.” - -“I’ve seen others,” uttered Yank, who somehow appeared to have a grudge -against the train. “These fancy tricks will do for show, but give me -the man who can spot a bull twenty feet off an’ take a piece of hide -out with the cracker. I don’t want no fancy fly-killer in my train. -Bull whips are made for business.” - -“You don’t want bull whackers; you want butchers,” retorted Joel, -contemptuously. “Here, Dave, try your luck. Give him room, boys.” - -Dave tried, but the long lash on the short handle proved a queer thing -to handle. It persisted in flying crooked or falling short, and several -times he almost hanged himself or narrowly escaped losing an ear. -However, before he surrendered the whip to Joel he had got the knack of -popping it; that was something. - -“Hurray!” encouraged Joel. “We’ll make a bull whacker of you before the -end of this trip. You’ll be able to pop a whip with the best of us.” - -Davy scarcely expected this skill; but he was resolved to do so well -that he could show Billy Cody. - - - - -XVI - -YANK RAISES TROUBLE - - -The bull train plodded on and on, day by day, across the rolling -prairies, whose soil, black, made blackish dust. One day was much like -another. The principal excitement was the passing of the stages. The -Leavenworth & Pike’s Peak Express Company had changed from the Smoky -Hill route to Denver, and were running on the famous Platte trail now: -by the Government road from Leavenworth to the Platte at Fort Kearney, -thence up the Platte and the South Platte――the same road that the bull -train was taking. - -Regularly once a day the stage from the east and the stage from the -west passed the train, which, like everything else, drew aside at the -sign of the well-known dust ahead or behind, and with wave of whip -and shout of voice greeted the flight of the four mules and the heavy -coach. At gallop or brisk trot the stage swept by――the driver scarcely -deigning a glance at bull whackers――and disappeared in its own cloud. - -For the bull train there were two halts each day: at noon and at -evening, when the wagons were corralled, usually by the right and left -wing, the oxen unyoked, and camp made for rest and meals. Then, about -one o’clock and about six in the morning, the march was resumed. The -men walked beside their wheel cattle and by stepping out a little and -“throwing” the whip to the full extent of lash, stock and arm, they -could flick the backs of their lead cattle. - -However, they rarely needed to use the whip as a punishment. The -whole train maintained the pace set by Joel’s lead team and followed -that. Each team kept close behind the wagon in front of them, so that -the lead yoke’s noses almost touched the rear end. It was a close -formation, preserved by the bulls themselves without urging. The -teamsters really had little to do while on the level trail. But when -the trail was very soft, or creeks or gullies had to be crossed, then -there was work for all. Sometimes the teams were doubled, until ten -or twelve yoke of bulls were stretched as one team, hauling the heavy -wagons across in turn. - -It was a great sight――the long line of panting, puffing oxen, with -nostrils wide and eyes bulging and muscles of neck and back knotted, -tugging all together, while the whips cracked and the men shouted, and -slowly the huge white-topped wagon, swaying and creaking, and weighing, -with its load, five tons or more, rolled onward out of difficulty. - -At such times Davy felt like giving the sweaty bulls a cheer. - -In the morning early, before the sun blazed and the dust and wind -gathered, the plains were wonderfully peaceful, and in the clear air -the flowers seemed many and the antelope and rabbits and prairie dogs -more lively. In the evening the men joked and told stories and sang -songs around their camp-fire ashes. The favorite songs appeared to be -one called “Days of Forty-nine,” another called “Betsy From Pike,” and -another called “Joe Bowers.” This was a very long song, especially when -the men made up verses to fit it. Charley said that anybody could begin -it at Leavenworth and end it at the mountains. But the song that Davy -liked the best was sung by “Sailor Bill,” one of the bull whackers. -It was “The Bay of Biscay, O!” and in a deep bass voice Bill sang it -finely, because he had been a sailor: - - Loud roared the dreadful thunder, - The rain a deluge show’rs; - The clouds were rent asunder - By lightning’s vivid pow’rs. - The night both drear and dark - Our poor devoted bark, - Till next day - There she lay, - In the Bay of Biscay O! - -It was a strange song to sing out here in the midst of the dry plains; -but with Bill booming and his comrades joining in the chorus it sounded -particularly good. - -The trail was divided off by various names, as city blocks are divided -off by streets. Most of the men could call the route by heart. There -was Salt Creek and Grasshopper Creek and Walnut Creek and Elm Creek -and the Big Blue, and the Big and Little Sandy, and Ash Point and the -Little Blue and Thirty-two Mile Creek and Sand Hill Pond and the Platte -River and then Fort Kearney, where, 294 miles from Leavenworth, the -main Overland Trail to Denver and Salt Lake was struck. - -On the Little Blue, before reaching Fort Kearney, the train had its -first accident――and a peculiar accident that was. Davy first learned of -it when, as he came riding back from an errand for Charley to another -train behind, he saw a wagon at the middle of his train pull short and -heard a shout and saw teamsters, their teams also halted, go running to -the place. - -“What’s the matter? Rattlers?” This was the first thought――that the -teamster had been bitten by a rattlesnake. - -“No. Somebody run over!” - -The rear half of the train had stopped, of course; the fore half, after -pulling on a little way, also had stopped. Charley came galloping back, -Yank galloped forward, and so did Davy. The men ahead had gathered in -a group and were carrying something out from under the wagons. It was -Sailor Bill, poor fellow. He had been riding sitting on the pole of his -wagon behind his wheel yoke, and he must have dozed, for he had fallen -off and the wheels of his wagon had passed over him. - -“My old lead bulls snorted and jumped like as if they’d stepped on a -rattler,” was explaining the teamster who had shouted and halted his -team. “I thought it _was_ a rattler, of course; but when I looked I -saw _him_! Right under my second swing team’s hoofs! But he was done -breathing before ever we got to him. I’m sartin of that. His own wagon -did for him; and mighty quick.” - -“Yes,” they all nodded soberly, “poor Bill like as not never knew what -was happening to him.” - -“Anybody know who his folks are or where?” demanded Charley. - -Heads were shaken. - -“Never heard him say. He ran away to sea when he was a kid and never -went home again, I reckon.” - -“Well,” uttered Charley, “we’ll do the best we can.” - -It was a solemn company which with bared heads stood about the spot -where they laid Sailor Bill. A deep hole was dug beside the trail, and -what was left of Sailor Bill, wrapped in a blanket, was lowered into -it. Charley read a chapter from the Bible, the hole was filled, and the -wagons made a little detour to drive across the spot and pack the soil -so that the coyotes would not be tempted to dig there. - -“We’ll certainly miss Bill and his ‘Bay of Biscay, O!’” said the men; -and they did. - -Henry Renick was appointed by Charley to Sailor Bill’s wagon and team, -and the train rolled on. - -Fort Kearney was four days, or fifty miles, ahead. On the fourth day -a great dust, crossing the Leavenworth trail, made a cloud against the -horizon; and Charley, pointing, remarked to Davy: “There’s the Platte -trail. We’ll be in Kearney to-night.” - -Fort Kearney was located on the south bank of the Platte River, -at the head of a large island thirty miles long, which was called -Grand Island. The military reservation extended on both sides of the -river. The fort was not nearly so pleasant or so well built as Fort -Leavenworth. The bluffs and the country around were bare and gray, and -the buildings were old frame buildings, rather tumble-down. The only -timber was on Grand Island, which made a green spot in the landscape. - -Fort Kearney was a division point on the Overland Trail for Russell, -Majors & Waddell. Charley reported to the company agent here, and the -train laid up for a day to rest and restock with what provisions were -needed. The meat was running short, for buffalo had been scarce all the -way from Leavenworth. - -At Fort Kearney the Leavenworth trail joined the main trail that came -in from Omaha and Nebraska City. That trail crossed the Platte just -above Fort Kearney, and there met the Leavenworth trail; and as one -they proceeded west up the south bank of the Platte. - -People at Fort Kearney claimed that on some days 500 wagons passed, -headed either west or east. Joel Badger started in to count the number -of teams in sight throughout an hour, but quit tired. And truly, -the scene at old Fort Kearney was a stirring one: the long lines of -white-topped wagons slowly toiling in from the east and the southeast, -and, uniting above the fort, toiling on out, under their dust cloud, up -the river course into the west. - -Charley did not delay here longer than was absolutely necessary, and -Davy, as well as others in the train, was glad to be away on the trail -again. Yank, the assistant wagon boss, and Charley, his chief, almost -had a fight, despite the pledge that they had taken, for Yank had begun -drinking in the groggeries of vicious Dobytown on the edge of the post -and was uglier than usual. - -“You hear what I say,” spoke up Charley loud enough for everybody else -to hear, too. “Any more of this and you’re discharged without pay. -Those are company orders and you knew it when you signed the roll.” - -“The company that discharges me without pay I’ve earned will wish it -hadn’t,” snarled Yank. - -“I’ll take the responsibility,” retorted Charley, angrily. “If you -don’t obey company rules you’re discharged; see? And if I can’t enforce -those rules I’ll discharge myself.” - -Yank said “Bah!” and swaggered off; but he stayed away from Dobytown. - -Fort Kearney seemed to mark a dividing point of the country as well as -of the great trail. The country from Leavenworth up through Kansas -had been prairie-like, with many wooded streams and considerable green -meadows. But here at the Platte the greenness dwindled, and the trail -wound along amidst sand and clay which grew chiefly sage brush and -buffalo grass. - -The Platte was a shallow, shifty stream, full of quicksands, so that -drivers must be very careful in crossing. Charley told of a time when -he saw a whole freight wagon, load and all, sink and disappear in -what looked to be hard sand under only two inches of water! The trees -in sight were for the most part on the islands in the river, for all -timber within easy reach along the trail had long ago been cut and -burned by the emigrants. Even buffalo chips were very scarce, so that -Charley took pains to camp on the sites of previous camps, where cattle -had left fuel similar to buffalo chips, although not so good. - -The buffalo chips burned slowly and held the fire a long time, making -splendid coals. The men seemed to think that this was because they had -been lying out for years, maybe, and were well baked; whereas the cow -chips and the bull chips were newer. - -The Platte was frequently bordered by high clay bluffs; and where the -road climbed or descended the scene at night was very pretty, with all -the camp-fires of the emigrants and other bull trains sparkling high -and low. The bluffs also were good coverts for Indians; and Charley -ordered that each mess have a man on guard all night. Fort Kearney was -considered the jumping-off place for the Indian country and the buffalo -country. Beyond, the country was, as Charley said, “wide open.” - -“To-morrow we’ll cross Plum Creek,” quoth Joel to Davy on the second -day out from Kearney. “We ought to see buffalo at Plum Creek; ’most -always do.” - -Plum Creek was 330 miles from Leavenworth and thirty-six out of Fort -Kearney. As they approached it, Charley and others uttered a glad cry, -for buffalo were in sight by the hundreds. They were grazing on the -hills and flats north of the river. Some emigrants already were among -them, chasing them hither and thither; so Captain Charley ordered Andy -Johnson and another teamster called “Kentuck” (because he was from -Kentucky) to take Davy’s and Yank’s mules and go with him after meat. - -That was as quickly done as said. Away the three spurred through the -shallow water and on. - -“We’ll have short ribs and roast hump to-night, boys,” shouted back -Charley. He and Andy and Kentuck were good hunters. - -This left Yank in charge of the train. He had not been pleasant since -that scene at Kearney, when he and Charley had the row; just now he -was more irritable and mean, because he had to walk. He grumbled and -snarled, and said a number of unkind things about Charley which Dave -knew were not true. - -“Wants to take the huntin’ himself, that feller does,” grumbled Yank, -“an’ leaves us other fellers to hoof it. Who ever heard of an assistant -wagon boss havin’ to walk? I didn’t hire out to walk, you bet.” And he -yelped out to Joel: “Hurry on your bulls there, you lead team man. Give -’em the gad or you’ll get stuck.” - -For the head of the train had reached a sandy hollow, and Joel’s team -were tugging through it. The sand rolled in a stream from the tires and -from half way up the spokes; but the twelve bulls――the ten blacks, and -the two burly reds forming the pole yoke――were pulling together nobly. - -“They don’t need it,” returned Joel, shortly. “They’re doing well. Let -’em alone.” - -“You’ve held the lead so long and done as you please that you’ve got -sassy,” sneered Yank. “You need a new boss, an’ now you’ve got him, -see? I tell you to hustle those fat pets o’ yourn along an’ give -somebody else a chance in here. Do you call that pullin’? Which way you -movin’? Touch ’em up, my man; touch ’em up.” - -“I’m driving this team,” answered Joel, roundly, “and I don’t need -advice from any assistant wagon master as to _how_ to drive. They pull -better without the lash.” And he sung out vigorously: “Buck! Muley! -Hep, now! Hep with you!” - -The wagon moved steadily, ploughing through the sand and encouraging -the teams behind. But Joel’s reply seemed to enrage Yank――who had been -waiting for just such a chance. - -“Oh, gimme that whip!” he snarled, and snatched it from Joel’s hand. -“Get out o’ there with you!” he yelled. The lash flew hissing; the -snapper landed with a distinct “thut!” on the haunch of the right lead -ox; it jerked smartly back and out-sprang at the spot where it had -struck a rim of blood on the sweaty, dusty black hide. The whip end had -cut through to the quick! - -As fast as lash could travel (and that was fast indeed) the other lead -ox felt like smart and humiliation. With frenzied, panting snort and -groan the yoke quivered and strained, setting shoulders forward and -fairly jerking the swing yokes after them. It was an unnecessary strain -and Davy knew it. - -“Whoa-oa-oa, boys!” soothed Joel. “Easy now!” And turning like a tiger -on Yank, who again was swinging the whip, he knocked him flat on his -back. - -The team went toiling on but Joel stood, panting, over Yank, and -watched him scramble up. Yank’s hand flew to his revolver butt――and -there it stopped; for when he got that far he was looking into the big -muzzle of Joel’s own Colt’s navy. - -“None o’ that either!” growled Joel, boiling mad. “Gimme that whip,” -and he snatched it back again. “I’ve a notion to lay it on _your_ back. -You call yourself a man and abuse dumb beasts that are doing the best -they can and doing it well?” He shook his big fist in Yank’s evil face, -which was turning from the red of anger to the white of fierce hate. -“You touch my team again and I’ll _kill_ you!” roared Joel. “I told you -they were to be let alone and I mean it. Stick that in your pipe and -smoke it.” - -Yank said nothing. His eye, where Joel’s fist had thudded, was swollen -shut, but out of the other he glared steadily; and while he did not -move a muscle (he knew better than to move with that revolver muzzle -trained upon him), if a look could have killed, then Joel would have -dropped in his tracks. - -Joel slowly backed away, keeping his Colt’s ready. - -“Remember,” he warned. “Don’t try that again.” And finally, having -backed far enough, beyond the fringe of men who had gathered, he -hastened after his wagon. Davy’s heart could beat again. - -“Joel was right in this,” proclaimed a teamster. “You may be assistant -wagon boss but even the boss himself has no business whipping another -man’s bulls.” And as the men resought their wagons heads wagged and -voices murmured in agreement therewith. - -As for Yank, he was growing red again; he cautiously wiped his injured -eye, his hand twitched upon the butt of his revolver, and picking up -his hat he stumbled forward as if in a dream. The way he acted was more -dangerous, it seemed to Davy, than if he had stormed and threatened. -And Davy was afraid for Joel. - -The train passed through the sandy hollow without further mishap; and -when they climbed out and pulled on over the next rise they met the -buffalo hunters returning. The mules’ saddles were red with meat, and -the three riders were well pleased with their hunt. - -The sun was low over the trail before, making golden the dust of travel. - -“We’ll camp here, boys,” called Charley, cheerfully, “and do what -butchering we need on those buffalo carcasses. Swing out, Joel. Whew, -man! You must have had to lay on the lash a bit heavy, didn’t you?” For -the haunches of the lead team were bloody welted. More than that, the -cracker seemed to have taken a piece of hide out the size of a quarter! - -“No,” said Joel, briefly. “I didn’t.” - -“Well,” continued Charley, “let’s corral where we are. Yank, -you――what’s the matter with your eye, man?” - -“I fell down,” answered Yank, steadily. And at the laugh which went up -he reddened deeply again, and again his hand twitched. - - - - -XVII - -DAVY “THE BULL WHACKER” - - -Charley scanned him quizzically for a moment. - -“You must have fallen mighty hard,” he remarked. “Who hit you, Yank?” - -“That lead teamster o’ yours,” growled Yank, with a string of oaths. -“I’ll get him for that. No man can strike me and stay long on this -earth. The dirty hound!” And he abused Joel horridly. - -Joel heard the loud words, and suddenly leaving his team where it -stood, came walking fast. - -“None of that!” he called. “You keep a quiet tongue in your head. You -can see what he did to my bulls, Charley. He laid my whip on them. I -allow no man to cut my bulls. I never cut them myself. They were doing -as well as they could.” - -Charley quickly stepped between the two――for the hand of each was -poised for the dart to revolver butt. - -“That’s enough,” he bade. “There’s to be no fighting in this train and -no swearing. You both know that. Give me your guns. Pass ’em over.” - -“All right, Charley,” answered Joel. “Here are mine if you say so. I -don’t need a gun to deal with that fellow.” And unbuckling his belt he -tossed it aside. - -“Now it’s up to you, Yank,” addressed Charley. - -Yank flushed. - -“My guns are my own, an’ I’m goin’ to wear ’em as long as I please,” he -blurted. - -“No, you aren’t, Yank,” retorted Charley, coolly. Looking him in the -eye, he walked straight to him. “You needn’t give them to me; I’ll take -them. See?” - -He was a little man, was Charley, but he had a great heart and the -nerve to back it up. Reaching, while Yank stood uncertain and cowed, he -jerked both revolvers from the holsters; then he stepped back to put -his foot on Joel’s belt. - -“That’s enough,” he said. “I want this matter to end right here. If you -laid whip on another man’s bulls when there wasn’t any need of it I -reckon you got about what you deserved. We’re not bull skinners in this -train. But I’ll have no fighting in the outfit. You fellows can settle -your differences after you leave. Go on and finish your corralling, -Joel. Yank, you saddle a fresh mule from the cavvy and ride out and -help Kentuck and Andy butcher those buffalo. Your mule’s plumb worn -out. Hear me?” - -Yank glared at him for a moment, but Charley returned eye for eye. -Presently Yank whirled on his heel, and snatching the bridle of his -mule strode off, muttering, to the cavvy. Joel went back to his team. -Charley shook the cylinders out of the four revolvers, dropped them -into his pockets, and stowed the useless weapons in one of the wagons. -The train proceeded about the business of the hour, and Davy, whose -heart had been beating high, helped. - -“The ride out yonder will help to cool his blood a bit,” commented one -of the teamsters, referring to Yank――who, leading Andy and Kentuck, was -galloping furiously away. As for Joel, he was acting as if the recent -trouble was ancient history――except that when he examined the wounds on -his two beloved oxen he shook his head. - -The teams had been unhitched from the wagons and were being led aside -to water and pasture, when a sudden shout arose. - -“Look at Yank! Look at him, will you! Where’s he going?” - -Everybody stared. Leaving Andy and Kentuck behind, Yank, without -slackening pace, was galloping on and on through the area where the -buffalo herd had been and where the carcasses were lying. Andy and -Kentuck yelled at him, but he paid no heed. And from the wagon train -welled another chorus of cries. - -“He’s taking French leave! He’s deserting!” - -“Let him go, boys,” quoth Charley, coloring, but making no move. “I’ll -send him his guns sometime; but he’s forfeited his pay. If he wants to -have things that way, good enough. We’re better off without him.” - -The men grunted, satisfied; nobody liked the unruly, foul-mouthed Yank. -Soon he disappeared over a rise and he was not seen again by Davy for a -year. - -The camp that evening seemed much pleasanter without the presence of -Yank. With him absent and with plenty of buffalo meat on hand, the men -laughed and joked to even an unusual extent. It was a carefree camp. - -“Here are your guns, Joel,” said Charley, returning them. “Guess I can -trust you with them now. Well, we’re a short train, with two men shy. -I’d rather lose Yank than Sailor Bill; but they’re both gone. Kentuck, -you’re promoted to assistant wagon boss; and I’ll have to turn your -team over to Dave, here. They’re well broken and I reckon he can drive -them. How about it, Dave?” - -Davy was somewhat flustered. He to be a bull whacker? Hurrah! - -“I’ll try,” he stammered. - -“Sure you will; and you’ll make good. Fact is, those bulls drive -themselves. But you can learn a heap, anyway. All right. You take -Kentuck’s outfit in the morning and go ahead. The boys will help you -if you get in trouble. I can’t spare Joel; he’s too good a man in the -lead, and we need him there.” - -That night Davy could scarcely go to sleep. He was excited. He wondered -if he really could “make good” as a bull whacker. He had practised with -the whip and could “throw” it pretty well, although it was a long lash -for a boy. But he had found out that to wield a bull whip and “pop” it -required a certain knack rather than mere strength; and, besides, the -bull teams behind kept up with the wagons before as a matter of habit. -Of course, corralling and yoking were the chief difficulties. But he -had watched closely what the men did every day, and he thought that -he _knew_ how, at least. At any rate, he was bound to try. To handle -twelve oxen seemed to him a bigger job than being a messenger. - -It was a proud Dave who, early in the morning, after breakfast, at the -cry “Catch up, men! Catch up!” shouldered his yoke and the two bows, -and sturdily trotted for the corral. He knew how to begin. The proper -method was to lay the heavy yoke across one shoulder with the bows -hanging from your arm. One pin was carried in your mouth, the other in -your hand. The ends of the bows passed up through the yoke, so that -only one end needed a pin thrust through above the yoke to hold it; the -other end stayed of itself. - -Davy felt that the men were watching him out of the corners of their -eyes. He heard somebody say, aside, bantering: “Look out, boys, or -that kid will beat us!” Of course he could not do _that_! Not yet. But -Charley called to him from the forward gap, where somebody must stand -to keep the cattle in: “The wheel team first, Dave. You know them, do -you? A pair of big roans.” - -Davy nodded. He remembered them; he had marked them well by a good -scrutiny when the herd was being driven in from pasture. - -“All right,” said Charley. “You’ll find them together. The whole bunch -ought to be together.” - -The corral was crowded with oxen and men, and appeared a mass of -confusion; but there was little confusion, for by this time the oxen -and the men all knew their business. Davy pushed his way straight to -the two big roans (the largest and stoutest bulls always were chosen -for the wheel team, because they must hold up the heavy pole and also -must stand up to the weight of the wagon down hill), and in approved -fashion laid the yoke across the neck of one. - -“Be sure you yoke ’em like they’re used to travellin’, lad,” warned a -kind teamster. “The near and the off bull, or you’ll have trouble.” - -Davy nodded again. He had noted this also. The “near” bull meant -the bull that was yoked to stand on the left; the “off” bull was -the right-hand one. The near bull of this team had a short horn, he -remembered. He slipped the bow under the near bull’s neck, and standing -on the outside, or left, inserted the ends of the bow up through the -yoke and slipped the pin in to hold it. Then he hustled around to the -opposite side of the “off” bull, who was standing close to his mate, -shoved him about (“Get ’round there, you!” ordered Davy, gruffly), and -reaching for the yoke lifted it across, adjusted the bow (from the -outside), slipped in the pin from his mouth――and there he had his wheel -pair yoked together! - -Now proud indeed, he led his yoke out through the other bulls to his -wagon. They took position on either side of the pole, although they -seemed a little puzzled by the change in manager. Now it only remained -to lift the pole and put the end through the ring riveted to extend -below the middle of the yoke. - -“Lead team next,” said Davy, wisely, to himself, leaving his wheel team -and hurrying to shoulder another yoke and its bows and re-enter the -wagon corral. - -Every man was supposed to know his twelve bulls as a father knows -his children. Davy’s lead team were spotted fellows, with long black -horns. He went straight to them where they stood, waiting; yoked -them masterfully and led them, too, out to the wagon. He put them in -position, and with the four other yokes built his whole team――starting -from the rear. The train was ready and watching, but not impatient. The -men gave him time. - -From the middle of each yoke the massive log chain by which they pulled -ran between them back to the yoke of the pair behind――save that the -wheel team pulled by the tongue and had no chain. Davy worked hard to -hook the chains. A man stepped forward to help him; but Charley called -promptly: - -“Let him alone, boys. He’s doing well. He’ll get the hang of it. Every -man to his own team, you know.” - -And Davy was glad. - -“All set,” he announced shrilly, for his team were hooked at last. - -“All set,” repeated Charley. “Line out, boys.” - -To brisk shout from Joel and crack of his whip the lead team -straightened their chains and the wagon moved ahead. One after another -the other wagons followed; and Davy’s team fell into place almost -before he had “popped” his whip and had joined in the cries: - -“Haw, Buck! Hep! Hep with you!” - -The train retook the trail, Davy trudging like any other bull whacker -on the left side of his wheel yoke, his whip over his shoulder, his hat -shoved back from his perspiring forehead. He doubted if even Billy Cody -could have done better; and he wished that Billy might see him. - -Ever the trail unfolded on and on, sometimes skirting the shallow -Platte, sometimes diverging a little to seek easier route. It traversed -a country very unattractive, broken by the clayey buttes and by deep -washes, and running off into wide, sandy plateaus and bottoms, rife -with jack-rabbits, coyotes, prairie-dogs, antelope, and occasional -buffalo. The rattlesnakes were a great nuisance; the men killed them -with the whip lashes by neatly cutting off their heads as they coiled -or sometimes shot them. And almost every morning somebody complained of -a snake creeping into his warm blanket. - -The processions of emigrants continued as thick as ever, bound for -“Pike’s Peak,” for Salt Lake, California and Oregon. Each day the stage -for Denver and the stage for Leavenworth passed, dusty and hurrying; -and now was given a glimpse, once in two weeks, of the Hockaday & -Liggett stages, which travelled twice a month between St. Joseph, -above Leavenworth, and Salt Lake City. Occasionally Indians――Cheyennes, -Arapahoes, Pawnees and Sioux――came into the camps begging for “soog” -and “cof” and “tobac.” - -Davy enjoyed every mile and he did splendidly. He enjoyed even the -never-varying diet of “sowbelly” (salt pork), baked beans, hot bread, -and sugarless, milkless coffee, eked out by buffalo meat and antelope -meat when they could get it. Some of the men tried prairie-dogs――which -weren’t so bad as they sound, tasting and looking like chicken or -rabbit. The main difficulty was to get them after they had been shot, -for they almost always managed to tumble into their holes. Then, when -anybody put a hand in to drag them out, it was met by the angry whirr -of a rattle-snake. A rattle-snake and a little owl seemed to live in -each hole along with the prairie-dog family! - -There were storms, coming up with startling suddenness. One storm, at -Cottonwood Springs a hundred miles west of Kearney, Davy never forgot. -It was a hail storm. First a mighty cloud of deep purple shot through -with violet lightning, swelled over the trail in the west. Emigrants -scuttled to secure their wagons, and at Charley’s sharp commands so did -the bull train. - -“It looks like a twister, boys,” shouted Charley, riding back along the -train. “Better corral. I’m afraid for these bulls.” - -So the train corralled in a jiffy; and, unyoked, the bulls were driven -inside. The tongues were hung in the draw ropes of the wagon covers and -the wheels were chained, wagon to wagon. Slickers were jerked out from -the wagons and donned; and the men prepared to crawl under the wagon -boxes if necessary. - -With angry mutter and swollen shape the purple cloud came on at a -tremendous pace. The spin-drift of it caught the plain far ahead, and -one after another the trains of the emigrants were swallowed in the -blackness. When the first gust struck the bull train the touch was icy -cold. - -“Hail, boys! Hail!” shouted Charley. “Watch the bulls!” - -Now sounded a clatter like rain on a sheet-iron roof; and across the -landscape of sand and clay, and a cottonwood grove at the mouth of the -creek, swept a line of white. The men dived for cover like prairie-dogs -whisking into their holes. - -Yes, it was hail! Such hail! Driven by a gale the stones, some as large -as hickorynuts, and all as large as filberts, lashed the huddled train; -whanged against canvas and wagon-box and with dull thuds bounded from -the bulls’ backs. Some of the animals shifted uneasily, for the stones -stung. The others stood groaning and grunting with discomfort, shaking -their heads when a particularly vicious missile landed on an ear. Under -the wagons the men were secure; but Dave felt sorry for the poor bulls -who turned and sought in vain. - -As quickly as it had come the storm passed, leaving the ground white -with the hail. Almost before the men had crawled out from underneath -their wagons the sun was shining. - -The hail had not damaged the bull train to any extent. There were dents -in the tough wood where the heavy stones had struck, and several of -the wagon sheets, forming the hoods, had been punctured in weak spots; -but thanks to Charley’s promptness in corralling, the animals had -not stampeded. However, some of the emigrants had not fared so well, -because they had not known what to do. After the bull train was yoked -up again and was travelling on, it passed two emigrant outfits stalled -by the trail, trying to recover their teams which had run away. Many of -the flimsy cotton hoods used by the emigrants were riddled into strips. - -The Overland Trail followed up the south side of the Platte, the same -way by which Dave had come down with the Lew Simpson train a year -before, after the fight in the mule fort. Where the North Platte -and the South Platte joined current it continued on up the South -Platte――and now to the north a short distance was the place where the -mule fort had been located so hastily by Billy Cody and Lew and George -Woods. - -Soon the main trail for Salt Lake and California forded the South -Platte to cross the narrow point of land for Ash Hollow at the North -Platte and for Laramie and Salt Lake City. But the Denver branch -proceeded on into the west by the newer trail to the mountains and -Denver. - -This branch of the Overland Trail down to Denver was only six months -old, but already it was a well-worn trail, scored deep by the stages -and by the thousands of emigrants and the constant freight outfits. The -travel eastward, toward the States, was almost as great now as that -westbound, for fall had come and everybody who was intending to return -to the States had started so as to get there before winter. A winter -journey by wagon across these plains was no fun. - -After the parting of the trail, the next station on the route was -Jules’ Ranch. Jules was an old French-Indian trapper and trader, whose -full name (as he claimed) was Jules Beni. His mother was a Cheyenne -Indian, and Jules had built a trading post here, a mile beyond -Lodgepole Creek, for trade with the Cheyennes. Now Jules had turned his -attention to the new business that had opened, and he was selling flour -to the Pike’s Peak “pilgrims” at a dollar a pound. He had been smart -enough to break a new trail that would bring the travel between the -North and the South Platte past his place――for the regular crossing was -east of him. He was smart, was Old Jules, and now he had just been made -stage agent. - -“I want all you fellows to keep clear of Old Jules,” cautioned -Charley, as the train approached what some of the men jokingly called -“Julesburg.” “I’ve never seen him when he wasn’t drunk and he’s a -corker for losing his temper and picking fights. Then he wants to kill -somebody. When he’s in liquor he’s plumb crazy. He’s shot two men and -carries their ears in his pocket. I’m not afraid of him, and neither -are you; but to-morrow’s Sunday and we’ll tie up near his place, and I -don’t want trouble.” - -“Why don’t you pull right through, Charley?” asked Andy Johnson, as a -spokesman. “We’re agreeable. ‘Dirty Jules’ is no great attraction.” - -“Well,” said Charley, “we usually do ease off on Sunday, and it’s -company orders and I don’t propose to change the programme at this -stage of the game.” - - - - -XVIII - -BILLY CODY TURNS UP AGAIN - - -The Russell, Majors & Waddell bull trains were under instructions to -lie by over Sunday whenever possible. By some people this was accounted -a waste of time. However, Mr. Majors especially insisted that Sunday -should be Sunday wherever it fell, in town or on the danger trail. One -day in seven might well be spent in rest even with a bull train. It -brought the men and cattle through in better shape, and was a gain that -way instead of any loss. - -So that evening the wagon train corralled near the Platte River -crossing, where the Salt Lake Trail turned north, about half a mile -east from Jules’ Ranch. The river was a great convenience, for on -Sunday the men usually tried to slick up by bathing and washing their -clothing and tidying generally. Therefore, after breakfast the brush -near the river bank was soon displaying shirts and handkerchiefs of red -and blue, and sundry pairs of socks, spread out to dry, while their -owners sat around and fought mosquitoes and watched the wagon outfits. -Some of these forded the river for Salt Lake, Oregon or California, but -most of them kept on up the Denver branch. - -This was interrupted by a distant hullabaloo――a yelling and cheering -mingled. The air was thin and still and very clear, so that sound and -eyesight carried far through it. The hullabaloo evidently came from -Jules’ Ranch, where at the group of buildings a crowd of people had -gathered. Davy’s shirt was dry, and he reached for it. - -“Must be having a celebration over yonder,” drawled Kentuck. “Reckon -I’ll go see.” - -He donned his red shirt and started. Several others made ready to go; -and Davy, as curious as anybody, decided that he would go, too. So, -wriggling into his clothes, whether they were dry or not, he followed -along up the trail to Jules’ place. - -The ranch was a small collection of adobe or sun-baked clay buildings, -and a log shack which was the store. The main excitement was centred -in front of the store. The crowd had formed a circle at a respectful -distance. They were emigrants and a few of the Charley Martin bull -train. - -“What’s the row?” queried Kentuck of a man at his elbow. - -“’Pears like this fellow Jules is having a leetle time with himself,” -answered the man. “I ’low he’s crazy. He’s got whiskey and flour out -thar on the ground and says he’s mixing mortar. It’s a good place for -the whiskey, but it’s an awful waste of flour.” - -Edging through the circle, Davy peered to see. A dirty, darkly sallow -visaged, hairy man, in soiled shirt, and trousers sagging from their -belt, was capering and screeching, and hoeing at a white mass which -might have been real mortar. But the smell of whiskey was strong in the -air, and there stood a barrel of it with the head knocked in. The white -stuff was flour, for, as Davy looked, the capering hairy man grabbed a -sack, tore it open and emptied it on the pile. - -“I show you how I mek one gr-r-rand mortarr,” he proclaimed. “Flour -at one dollar ze pound, whiskey at ten dollars ze quart; zat ze way -ol’ Jules mek gr-r-rand mortarr. Wow! Hooray! If anybody teenk he mek -one better mortarr, I cut off hees ears. Dees my country; I do as I -please.” And he hoed vigorously at his “mortar bed,” and screeched and -capered and threatened and boasted and made a fool of himself. - -Some of the crowd laughed and applauded; but the majority were -disgusted. To Davy it seemed a great pity that any human being should -so lose all control of himself and be less human than an ape. He -speedily tired of this silly exhibition by Jules, the store-keeper, and -turned away for fresh air. He and Charley, the wagon boss, emerged from -the crowd together. - -“Old Jules is spoiling his own business, I reckon,” observed Charley. -“How any man can watch that in there and ever taste whiskey again is -more than I know. To see him make a fool of himself is better than -signing a pledge.” - -The crowd rapidly wearied of this drunken Jules and his antics and -dwindled away. As for Davy, he had decided to take a walk to the mouth -of Lodgepole Creek, up the river a short distance. Lodgepole Creek -emptied in on the opposite side of the Platte, and was named because -the Cheyennes used to gather their lodge poles along it. - -The Platte flowed shallow and wide, with many sand bars and ripples, -and many deepish holes where the water eddied rapidly. The banks were -fringed with willows not very high. From a rise in the trail Dave, -trudging stanchly in his heavy dusty boots, beheld an object, far up -the channel, beyond the willow tops, floating down. - -It was a large object flat to the water, and as he peered he saw a -flash as from an oar-blade. A boat! No――too large and low for a boat. -It must be a raft with somebody aboard. Davy waited, inquisitive; for -craft floating on the Platte were a curiosity. The upper river was too -shallow, especially at this time of the year. - -The raft came on gallantly and swiftly. It carried three persons and -their outfit. The crew were standing up: one of them steering, behind, -and one at either edge, with oars, was helping to fend off from the -bars. It looked like an easy mode of travel, and Davy prepared to stand -out and give the voyagers a cheer. - -But just before the raft arrived opposite, going finely, it appeared to -hang on a snag or else strike a sudden eddy; or perhaps it did both -at once; nobody could tell. Under Davy’s astonished eyes it stopped for -a moment in mid-stream; the crew wildly dug with their oars and fell to -their hands and knees; whirling around and around the platform fairly -melted away underneath them, leaving only three black dots on the -surface of the water. These were heads! - -Waking to the situation, Davy waved and shouted; the swimmers may -have seen him, he thought, because they were making for his side. -The current bore them along, as sometimes they swam and sometimes -they waded; and he kept pace to encourage. As the foremost neared the -bank, Davy rushed down and waded in to meet him and help him ashore. -He wasn’t a very large person――that drenched figure floundering and -splashing for safety; he wasn’t large at all; and extending a hand, to -give him a boost, Davy gasped, only half believing: - -“Why――hello, Billy! Gee whiz! Is that you?” - -[Illustration: “WHY――HELLO, BILLY! IS THAT YOU?”] - -“Hello, Dave,” answered Billy Cody, muddy and dripping, but calmly -shaking Dave’s hand. “I guess it must be. Where are Hi and Jim?” And he -turned quickly to scan the river. “Good. They’re coming. I knew they -could swim. They can swim better than I, so I reckoned I’d get ashore -as soon as I could. What are you doing here and where are you bound -for?” - -“I’m bull whacking for Russell, Majors & Waddell from Leavenworth to -Denver,” informed Davy, proudly. “Where are you bound for?” - -“Back to the river.” And by “the river” Davy knew that Billy meant the -Missouri. “We didn’t have any luck in the diggin’s, so we thought we’d -float home down the Platte to the Missouri and down the Missouri to -Leavenworth. Well, we got this far, anyhow.” - -“Jiminy crickets!” shouted Hi, now plashing in. “If here isn’t Dave -waiting for us! Did you come all the way from Leavenworth to meet us, -Dave?” - -And there was a great shaking of hands. - -“I dunno what the dickens happened to us out there,” volunteered Jim, -gazing at the river suspiciously. “One moment we were just sailing -along and next moment we were swimming. No more sailoring for me; I’d -rather walk with a bull team. Here we’ve lost our whole outfit and -we’re going home from the diggin’s ‘busted’ flat.” - -“We didn’t have much to lose; that’s one comfort,” said Billy. “Think -how bad we’d be feeling if we’d struck it rich up in the mountains and -every ounce was now at the bottom of the Platte! Huh! We’ve had our -fun, anyhow. Who’s your wagon boss, Dave?” - -“Charley Martin.” - -“Where are you camped?” - -“At the Platte crossing, just below Jules’.” - -“All right,” quoth Billy, cheerily. “Come on, boys. I’m going down to -the camp and see what I can get, and Charley’ll grub-stake us home.” - -They had clambered up the bank into the dryness, and now they continued -down the trail――Billy and Hi and Jim clumping and squashing, Davy -tramping sturdily in his teamster costume of flannel shirt and trousers -tucked into big boots. - -“So you’re a sure-’nough bull whacker, are you?” asked Hi of Davy, with -a grin. - -“I was hired just as an ‘extra’ for carrying messages, you know,” said -Davy, to be both honest and modest. “But we ran short of men so Charley -put me at whacking. I can sling a whip some; that is, pretty good. The -bulls are trained, anyway.” - -“When did you begin?” asked Billy. - -“Back at Plum Creek.” - -“If you’ve held your job this far, then, I guess you can hold it as -long as you like. Bully for you, Red.” And at Billy’s generous praise -Davy blushed. - -The excitement at Jules’ trading store had quieted and only the mess of -whiskey-sodden flour remained. Billy and Jim paid scant attention to -this, except that they, too, were disgusted when they heard what old -Jules had been up to. They were more intent upon getting to the wagon -train camp. And here Charley Martin and the whole outfit, in fact, -received them with a great ado. Everybody in the train seemed to know -Billy, and almost everybody knew Hi and Jim. - -There was a stranger to Davy in camp. He had arrived in a light buggy -drawn by a strong, spirited team of black horses, and was chatting with -Charley. His name proved to be B. F. Ficklin――“Ben” Ficklin. He shook -hands with Billy, and Billy introduced Dave. - -“Mr. Ficklin, this is my friend Dave Scott, youngest bull whacker on -the plains.” - -“You want to watch out or he’ll catch up with you, Billy,” bantered Mr. -Ficklin. - -“I shouldn’t wonder,” answered Billy, carelessly. “But I’ve got a head -start over him. I’m a prairie sailor sure now, and navigation on the -Platte is closed!” - -Not only in sailing on the Platte, but in many other feats Dave never -did catch up with Billy Cody. - -Mr. Ficklin was the general superintendent of the Russell, Majors & -Waddell freighting and staging business. He bore the news that the -company had taken over the stage outfit of Hockaday & Liggett, which -ran twice a month from St. Joseph on the Missouri to Salt Lake on the -Platte River Overland Route, and were going to combine the Leavenworth -& Pike’s Peak Express with it. He himself was on his way from Denver, -back down the trail to inspect the condition of the stations from the -Platte crossing to the Missouri. - -“We’re going to make this stage line a hummer, boys,” he informed. -“Hockaday & Liggett have been running two times a month on a schedule -of twenty-one days to Salt Lake; no stations, and same team without -change for several hundreds of miles at a stretch. The company are -putting in stations every ten and fifteen miles all along the Overland -route from the river to Salt Lake, and stocking them with provisions -and fodder. We’re buying the best Kentucky mules that we can find and -ordering more Concord coaches; and we’re going to put a coach through -every day in the year, from the Missouri to Salt Lake, on a ten-day -schedule, by the Salt Lake Overland Trail to the crossing here, then -north to Laramie and over the South Pass. A stage will be sent down to -Denver, too.” - -Mr. Ficklin evidently was an enthusiast. Davy had heard of him――a hard -worker and a booster for the company that he loved. - -“What’s ever become of the scheme of yours and that California senator, -Gwin, to put a fast mail service through, horseback, from St. Louis to -San Francisco, by the Overland route, at $500 for each round trip,” -asked Joel of Mr. Ficklin. - -“Nothing yet. Senator Gwin was right for it after our talk on the stage -from California five years ago, and he introduced a bill in Congress; -but the bill died. The California people are howling, though, for -something better than news three weeks to six weeks old from the East. -And mark my words,” continued Mr. Ficklin, earnestly, “that’s what will -happen next――a pony express from the Missouri to the coast that will -beat the stage.” - -“Do you think they’ll stretch a line of relays clear across for two -thousand miles and keep it going day and night passing the mail along?” -demanded Billy, his eyes sparkling at the fancy. - -“Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Ficklin, shortly. - -“Well, when they do I want to ride one of the runs――one that will keep -me hopping, too,” declared Billy. - - - - -XIX - -DAVY MAKES ANOTHER CHANGE - - -“Did you see my mother when you were back East, Dave?” asked Billy. - -“Yes.” - -“How’s she looking?” - -“Not extra good, Billy. She’s not very well, and she said if I came -across you to tell you she’d like to see you as soon as she could.” - -“How are the girls?” - -“They’re all right.” - -“I’m sorry about ma,” mused Billy, soberly. “If she’s poorly I’m going -home as straight as I can travel, you can bet on that.” - -“We can give you a job with the bull train, Billy,” proffered Charley -Martin. “We’re short of men.” - -But Billy shook his head. - -“No, sir. I’m due at the Cody place in Salt Creek Valley.” - -“Well, Billy, in that case I’ll pass you through on the next stage, if -there’s room,” volunteered Mr. Ficklin. - -“I can hang on somewhere,” asserted Billy. “The pass is the main thing. -Never mind the room.” - -While they all were talking a new arrival halted near. It was an army -ambulance――a wagon with black leather top, seats running around the -inside, and four big black army mules as the team. It was bound west. -A soldier in dusty blue uniform was the driver, and a corporal of -infantry sat beside him, between his knees a Sharp’s carbine. From -the rear of the ambulance another soldier briskly piled out. By his -shoulder straps and the white stripes down his trouser-seams he was an -officer; by the double bars on his shoulder straps a captain. He wore a -revolver in holster. - -He walked over to the group and nodded. - -“Hello, Ben.” - -“How are you, captain.” And Mr. Ficklin arose to shake hands. - -“Gentlemen,” continued Mr. Ficklin, “I want to introduce Captain Brown.” - -“I believe I know the captain,” spoke Charley, also shaking hands. - -“Hello, Billy,” addressed the captain, catching sight of him. “What’s -the matter? Been swimming?” - -“Yes,” laughed Billy. “The water’s a little cold up in the mountains, -so I took my annual down here.” - -“Billy’s been at the diggin’s, captain,” vouchsafed Mr. Ficklin. “He -brought down so much gold in his hide that he couldn’t travel till he’d -washed it out.” - -Billy took their joking good-naturedly. That he was going home “broke” -had not discouraged him at all. - -“I know one thing, gentlemen,” he declared. “I’m not a miner, but I -had to learn. The plains for me after this. You’ll find me bobbing up -again.” - -“Yes, you can’t keep Billy Cody down, that’s a fact,” agreed Mr. -Ficklin. “Where are you bound, captain? Denver?” - -“No, sir. Laramie. I’ve just come through from Omaha. I hear you -fellows are putting on a daily stage to Salt Lake to connect there with -the line for San Francisco.” - -“Yes, sir. It’ll be running this month, and it’ll be a hummer. I’m on -my way to inspect the stations now.” - -“This is my friend Dave Scott, captain,” introduced Billy, in his -generous way. “He’s the youngest bull whacker on the trail.” - -“He must be a pretty close second to you, then, Billy,” remarked -Captain Brown, extending his hand to Davy, who, as usual, felt -embarrassed. “You started in rather young yourself!” The captain (who -was a tanned, stoutly-built man, with short russet beard and keen -hazel eyes) scanned Davy sharply. He scratched his head. “I don’t see -why I can’t get hold of a boy like you or Billy,” he said. “I prefer -red-headed boys. I was red-headed myself once, before the Indians -scared my hair off.” - -“You’re a bit red-headed now, captain,” slyly asserted Charley; for -the captain’s bald pate certainly was well burned by the sun. - -“Well, I _feel_ red-headed, too,” retorted the captain. “So would you -if every time you got a clerk he deserted to the gold fields. Lend me -this boy, will you, Martin? He’s in your train, isn’t he? I’ll take him -on up to Laramie with me and give him a good job in the quartermaster’s -department. There’s a place there for somebody just about his size, -boots and all.” And the captain, who evidently had taken a fancy to the -sturdy Dave, smiled at him. - -All of a sudden Davy wanted to go. He had heard of Fort Laramie, that -important headquarters post on the North Platte in western Nebraska -(which is to-day Wyoming) near the mountains, and he wanted to see -it. Billy had been there several times with the bull trains out of -Leavenworth, and had told him about it. - -“I’d like to oblige you, captain,” answered Charley. “But we’re short -handed this trip, and Davy’s a valuable man. He’s making quite a bull -whacker. Besides, I reckon he’s counting on going to school this winter -in Leavenworth; aren’t you, Davy?” - -Davy nodded. - -“I thought I’d better,” he said. “That’s one reason I left Denver.” - -“He can go to school at Laramie,” asserted the captain quickly. “We -have a school for the post children there, and it’s a good one.” - -Davy listened eagerly, and it was plain to be seen how _he_ was -inclined. Denver meant only a short stay, for Charley was anxious to -start back again before winter closed in on the plains, and there might -not be any chance to see Mr. Baxter, after all. Laramie sounded good. - -“Oh, shucks!” blurted Jim. “If you want to let Dave out, Charley, I’d -as lief go on to Denver and finish with you.” - -“So would I,” added Hi. - -“How about it, Dave?” queried Charley. “Is it Denver or Leavenworth, or -Laramie, for you?” - -“I’d like to try Laramie first-rate but I don’t want to quit the train -unless you say so,” answered Dave, honestly. “I hired out for the trip, -and Mr. Russell and Mr. Majors expect me to go through.” - -“Mr. Majors knows me and so does Billy Russell,” put in the captain. -“I’ll write Majors a letter and give him a receipt for one red-headed -boy, with guarantee of good treatment. I tell you, Martin, the -United States has need for one red-headed boy, name of Dave, in the -quartermaster service at Fort Laramie; and I believe I’ll have to send -a detail out on the trail and seize him by force of arms.” The captain, -of course, was joking, but he also seemed in earnest. “If he’s employed -by Russell, Majors & Waddell that’s recommendation enough, and I want -him all the more.” - -Charley laughed. - -“Oh, in that case, and if he wants to go, I suppose I’ll have to let -him, and take Jim and Hi on in his place. They two ought to be able to -fill his job. If you say so, Dave, I’ll give you your discharge right -away, and a voucher for your pay to date, and you can see how you like -the army for a change.” - -“Go ahead, Red,” bade Billy. “You’ll learn a heap, and I’ll be out that -way myself soon. First thing you know you’ll see me coming through -driving stage or riding that pony express. Whoop-la!” - -And of this Davy did not have the slightest doubt. - -Captain Brown declined an invitation to stay for dinner with the mess. -He was in a hurry. So the exchange of Davy from bull whacking to -Government service was quickly made. Before he was an hour older he had -shaken hands with everybody within reach and was trundling northward -in the black covered ambulance beside Captain Brown. He knew that in -another hour or two Billy himself would be travelling east, back to -Salt Creek Valley and Leavenworth; and that early in the morning the -bull train, with Charley and Joel and Kentuck and Hi and Jim and all, -would be travelling west for the end of the trail at Denver. - -This was just like the busy West in those days; friends were constantly -mingling and parting, each on active business――to meet again a little -later and report what they had been doing in the progress of the big -country. - -“You’re too young to follow bull whacking, my boy,” declared the -captain. “It’s a rough life and a hard one. To earn your own way -and know how to hold up your end and take care of yourself is all -very well; but you’d better mix in with it the education of books and -cultured people as much as you can while you go along. Then you’ll grow -up an all-round man instead of a one-sided man. Laramie’s a long way -from the States; but we’ve got a small post school and a few books, and -it’s the home of a lot of cultured men and women. You’ll learn things -there that you’ll never learn roughing it on the trail.” - -And Davy looked forward to life at old Fort Laramie, the famous army -post and freight and emigrant station on the Overland Trail to Salt -Lake, Oregon and California. - -The fording of the Platte was made in quick time to foil the -quicksands. The North Platte was now scarce eighteen miles across the -narrow tongue of land separating the two rivers above their juncture. -It was struck at Ash Hollow. Ash Hollow had a grocery store for -emigrant trade. The sign read “BUTTE, REGGS, FLOWER and MELE.” - -Captain Brown halted here long enough to buy a few crackers and some -sardines. - -“Thought we’d stock up while we can,” he explained to Dave. “These and -what buffalo meat we have will carry us quite a way. Laramie’s one -hundred and sixty miles, and I’m going to push right through.” - -The four stout mules ambled briskly at a good eight miles an hour, -following the trail into the west, up the south bank of the river. The -trail was broad and plain, but it was not so crowded with emigrants -as it had been before the Pike’s Peak portion of it had branched off. -However, there still were emigrants; and there were many bull trains -bound out for Laramie and Fort Bridger and Salt Lake, for this was the -main Overland Trail, dating back fifty years. - -The ambulance rolled on without slackening, except for sand or short -rises, until after sunset. Then the captain gave the word to stop. By -this time he knew Dave’s history, and Davy was liking him immensely. -They clambered stiffly out. The driver and corporal unhitched the -mules: and while the corporal made a fire for coffee, the driver (who -was a private) put the mules out to graze. - -“We’ll take four hours, Mike,” said the captain to the corporal. “Then -we’ll make another spurt until daylight.” - -“Yes, sir,” answered the corporal, saluting. - -“You’d do well to crawl in the wagon and sleep, after supper, Dave,” -advised the captain to Davy. “We’ll be travelling the rest of the -night. Can you stand it?” - -Davy laughed. A great question, that, to ask of a boy who’d just been a -bull whacker walking across the plains! - -Nevertheless, Davy took a nap in the bottom of the ambulance; and more -than a nap. When he awakened, he had been aroused by the jolting of -his bed. A buffalo robe had been thrown over him, the captain was -sitting in a corner snugly wrapped, and by the light of a half moon the -ambulance was again upon its way. - -In the morning, when they once more halted to rest and feed the mules, -the country was considerably rougher, with hills and fantastic rocks -breaking the sagy, gravelly landscape. The white-topped wagons of -emigrants and the smoke of their camp-fires were in sight, before and -behind; and not far ahead a bull outfit were driving their bulls into -the wagon corral to yoke up for the day’s trail. - -Breakfast was coffee and buffalo meat; but Corporal Mike mounted one -of the mules and rode off the trail. When he returned he had some sage -chickens and an antelope. The sides of the ambulance had been rolled -up; and about noon, pointing ahead the captain remarked to Davy: - -“That’s Laramie Peak, beyond the post. We’ve got only about eighty -miles to go and we’ll be in bright and early.” - -The landmark of Laramie Peak, of the Black Hills Range of the Rocky -Mountains, remained in sight all day, slowly standing higher. The sun -set behind it. Davy snoozed in the bottom of the ambulance. The captain -had spoken truth, for shortly after sunrise they sighted the flag -streaming over Fort Laramie. - -Old Fort Laramie was not so large a post as Fort Leavenworth; it was -not so large as Fort Kearney, even. Davy was a little disappointed, for -“Laramie” was a name in the mouth of almost every bull whacker in the -Russell, Majors & Waddell trains out of Leavenworth, and the men were -constantly going “out to Laramie” and back. The post stood on a bare -plateau beside Laramie Creek about a mile up from the Platte; some of -the buildings were white-washed adobe, some were logs, and some were of -rough-sawed lumber. Back of the fort were hills, and beyond the hills, -to the southwest, were mountains――Laramie Peak being the sentinel. - -It was the important division point on the Overland Trail to Salt Lake; -maintained here in the Sioux Indian country to protect the trail and -to be a distributing point for Government supplies. It was garrisoned -by both cavalry and infantry; on the outskirts were cabins of Indian -traders and trappers and other hangers-on, and there were a couple -of stores that sold things to emigrants. Sioux Indians usually were -camping nearby, in time of peace. - -Davy changed his rough teamster costume for clothes a little more -suited to a clerk and messenger in the quartermaster’s department, -and was put to work by Captain Brown, the acting quartermaster. The -post proved a busy place, with the quartermaster’s offices the busiest -of all; but the captain and Mrs. Brown saw that Dave was courteously -treated and given a fair show. He went to evening school, and had -books to read; and once in a while was allowed time for a hunt. In -fact, Fort Laramie, away out here, alone, guarding the middle of the -Overland Trail through to Salt Lake, was by no means a stupid or quiet -place. - -Of course, the trail was what kept it lively, for every day news from -the States and from the farther west arrived with the emigrants and the -bull trains; and scarcely had Dave been settled into his new niche, -when arrived the first of the new daily stages from the Missouri. It -was preceded by a slender, gentlemanly man named Bob Scott, dropped off -by one of the company wagons which was establishing the stations. Bob -Scott was to drive stage from Fort Laramie on to Horseshoe, thirty-six -miles, and he was here in readiness. He seemed to be well known on the -trail, for many persons at the post called him “Bob.” - -“When do you expect to start on the run, Bob?” asked the captain. - -“I think about next Tuesday, captain,” answered Bob, in his quiet, easy -tone. “The first coach leaves to-day, I understand, from St. Joe.” - -“They’ll make it through in six days, will they?” - -“Yes, sir. Ten days to Salt Lake is the schedule――an average of one -hundred and twenty miles a day. At Salt Lake the express and passengers -are transferred to the George Chorpening line to Placerville, -California, and from Placerville they’re sent on to Sacramento and -San Francisco. I understand the time from the Missouri River to San -Francisco will be about eighteen days.” - -“You haven’t heard what’s to be the name of the new company, have you, -Bob?” - -“Yes, sir. ‘Central Overland, California & Pike’s Peak Express’ is to -be the name; the ‘C. O. C. & P. P.’” - -Stables and express station and a relay of horses had been established -adjacent to the post. The old stage company, Hockaday & Liggett, had -worked on a loose, go-as-you-please system which was very different -from the way that Russell, Majors & Waddell went at it. Now, with -things in readiness along the line, clear to Salt Lake City, Tuesday -dawned on a post eagerly hoping that Bob Scott’s calculation would -prove true. - -About eleven o’clock a murmur and hustle in the post announced that the -stage was in sight. It came with a rush and a cheer――its four mules at -a gallop, up the trail, the big coach swaying behind them, the driver -firm on his box. Stain of dust and mud and rain and snow coated the -fresh coach body, for all the way from the Missouri River, 600 miles, -had it come, through all kinds of weather, and had been travelling -night and day for six days. At top and bottom of the frame around the -stiffened canvas ran the legend: “Central Overland California & Pike’s -Peak Express Co.” - -“Wild Bill” Hickok himself it was who, coolly tossing his lines to -the hostler, waiting to take them and lead the horses to the stable, -drawing off his gloves bade, for the benefit of his passengers: - -“Gentlemen, you have forty minutes here for dinner.” - -At the same moment the station keeper’s wife began to beat a sheet-iron -gong as dinner signal. - - - - -XX - -FAST TIME TO CALIFORNIA - - -Dave was heartily glad to see Wild Bill again――and Wild Bill seemed -glad to see Davy. - -“I heard you were out in this region,” said Wild Bill, after they had -shaken hands. “Billy Cody told me.” - -“When did you see him, Bill?” - -“Last time was when I was out to his house about a month ago. He was -planning on a trapping and hunting trip with a man named Harrington up -in the Republican country north of Junction City. But he’ll be on the -trail again in the spring; you mark my word.” - -“So you’re driving stage, are you, Bill?” - -“Yes; I’m running between Horse Creek and Laramie, forty-two miles. -It’s a great outfit, the C. O. C. & P. P.――the finest coaches and mules -I’ve ever seen, and plenty of stations and feed. Now it’s up to the -drivers to make the schedule.” And Wild Bill sauntered off, nodding to -acquaintances, to wash and eat. - -Davy joined the group admiring the coach. It evidently had been -prepared especially for the occasion of the first trip through. It was -a new “Concord,” built by the famous stage-coach manufacturers, the -Abbot-Downing Company, of Concord, New Hampshire. The large round, -deep body was enclosed at the sides by canvas curtains that could be -rolled up; and behind, it was extended to form a large roomy triangular -pocket, or “boot,” for mail and baggage. The driver’s seat, in front, -was almost on the level with the roof; and beneath it was another -pocket, or boot, for express and other valuables. A pair of big oil -lamps sat upon brackets, at either end of the driver’s seat. The coach -body was slung upon heavy straps forming the “throughbrace,” instead of -resting upon springs; and here it securely cradled. It had been painted -red and decorated with gilt. - -This coach had space for six passengers, three in a seat facing three -others in an opposite seat. The coach was filled, when it had arrived, -with the six passengers and a lot of mail; Wild Bill on the box, and -beside him a wiry little man, who was Captain Cricket, the express -messenger. - -Bob Scott and Wild Bill ate dinner together at the station. The fresh -team of mules had been harnessed into the traces, and were being held -by the heads. Bob looked at his watch, drew on his gloves, circuited -the mules with an eye to their straps and buckles, laid his overcoat (a -fine buffalo coat with high beaver collar) on his seat, and grasping -lines and whip climbed up. Captain Cricket nimbly followed. - -“All ready, gentlemen,” announced Bob, his foot on the brake, poised -to release it. The passengers came hurrying out and into the coach. -Bob gave one glance over his shoulder. Then――“Let ’er go,” he bade the -hostlers. - -“Whang!” his brake released; the hostlers leaped aside; out flew his -lash, forward sprang the mules, and away went coach and all, in a -flurry of dust, for the next run, to Horseshoe Creek, thirty-six miles. -Run by run, up the Sweetwater River, over South Pass, down to the Sandy -and the Green Rivers, through Fort Bridger and Echo Canyon, one hundred -and more miles every day, would it speed, by relays of teams and of -drivers, until the last team and last driver would bring it into Salt -Lake. - -Wild Bill took a horse and returned to his east station, to drive in -the next westbound stage. Every day a stage came through, and presently -the stages from the west began coming back. The driver who brought in -a stage from one direction took back the stage going in the opposite -direction. - -The stages through to Salt Lake and to the Missouri brought considerable -new life to Fort Laramie. Papers and letters from New York and San -Francisco arrived so quickly after being mailed that it was easy to see -what a great treat this service was to Salt Lake and Denver and every -little settlement along the whole route. - -Mr. Ficklin was general superintendent of the line, and was constantly -riding up and down. No person who passed by was better liked than -Superintendent Ficklin. Mr. Russell was in Washington, but Mr. Majors -appeared, once, stepping from the stage; and he had not forgotten Davy. - -“Your pardner, Billy Cody, almost met his end this winter, my lad,” he -informed. “Did you hear about it?” - -“No, sir,” gasped Dave. - -“Well, he did. He was up in central Kansas on a trapping trip, and -lost his oxen and broke his leg and had to be left alone in a dug-out -while his companion went one hundred and twenty-five miles, afoot, to -the nearest settlement for a team and supplies. Billy got snowed in, -couldn’t move anyway, a gang of Indians plundered him and might have -murdered him, and when, on the twenty-ninth day――nine days late――his -friend finally arrived and yelled to him, Billy could scarcely answer. -Even then the snow had to be dug away from the door. But he reached -home safely and he’s getting along finely now. He’s plucky, is -Billy――and so was his friend, Harrington.” - -“Maybe he won’t want to go out on the plains any more,” faltered Dave. - -“Who? Billy Cody?” And Mr. Majors laughed. “You wait till the grass -begins to get green and the willow buds swell, and you’ll see Billy -Cody right on deck, ready for business.” - -Back and forth, between Salt Lake and the Missouri River shuttled the -stages of the Central Overland, California & Pike’s Peak Express. They -seemed to be making money for the company, but rumors said that the -company needed more money; in fact, the company were in a bad way. The -expenses had been tremendous. The big coaches cost $1000 apiece――and -there were fifty of them. The harness for each four-mule team was made -in Concord, and it cost about $150. Then there were 10,000 tons of hay -a year, at twenty to thirty dollars a ton; and 3,000,000 pounds of corn -and another 3,000,000 pounds of grain, at several cents a pound; and -2000 mules at seventy-five dollars each; and the wages of the men――$100 -a month and board for the division agents, $50 and $75 a month for the -drivers, $50 a month for the station agents, and $40 a month for the -hostlers who took care of the mules. - -But even under this expense it seemed as though the passenger fare of -$125 to Denver and $200 to Salt Lake (meals extra at a dollar and a -dollar and a half), and the heavy rates on express ought to bring the -company a profit. Davy, trying to figure out the matter, hoped so. Of -course, it was not his business, but a fellow likes to have his friends -successful; and Dave looked upon Mr. Majors, and Mr. Russell, and Mr. -Waddell as very good friends of his. - -He took a trip, once in a while, on the stage east with Wild Bill, or -west with “Gentleman Bob,” on quartermaster’s affairs, to some of the -stations. There always was room on the driver’s box, and generally Wild -Bill or “Gentleman Bob” was glad to have him up there along with the -messenger. - -“Gentleman Bob” proved to be as remarkable a character as Wild Bill -Hickok. When approaching stations Wild Bill signalled with a tremendous -piercing: “Ah-whoop-pee!” and arrived on the run. Gentleman Bob -whistled shrilly. The teams for either of them had to be changed in -less than four minutes, or there was trouble. The Overland stage waited -for naught. - -Wild Bill passed the news on to Gentleman Bob, and Gentleman Bob it was -who passed it to Davy, as one fresh, windy morning in this the spring -of 1860, Dave gladly clambered up to the driver’s box to ride through -to the end of the run at Horseshoe. - -“Let ’er go!” yelped Bob, kicking the brake free; and to mighty lunge -and smart crack of lash the coach jumped forward, whirling away from -the station for another westward spurt. - - “This, oh this is the life for me, - Driving the C. O. C. & P. P.” - -warbled Gentleman Bob, flicking the off lead mule with the whip -cracker. No bull whacker in any Russell, Majors & Waddell outfit could -sling a whip more deftly than “Gentleman Bob,” a “king of the road.” -“Do you know what that means, nowadays, Red――‘C. O. C. & P. P.’?” - -“What, Bob?” - -“Clean Out of Cash & Poor Pay!” - -“Aw!” scoffed Davy. “Is it as bad as that?” - -“Pretty near,” asserted Bob. But that wasn’t his news. His news -followed. “Do you know something else; what’s going to happen next on -this blooming road?” - -“Pony express!” hazarded Dave. - -Bob turned his head and coolly stared. - -“How’d you find out?” - -“I guessed. Mr. Ficklin spoke about it a long time ago.” - -“Well, she’s due, and Ben Ficklin and Billy Russell and Alex Majors and -that crowd are back of it. You saw Billy Russell go through Laramie -last month. He’s been buying hosses――the best in the country, two -hundred of ’em, at from one hundred to two hundred dollars apiece. -Read this advertisement in the paper; that’ll tell you the scheme.” -And reaching in behind the leather apron which covered the front of -the pocket or “boot” under his seat, Bob extracted a newspaper. He -indicated with his thumb. “Read that,” he bade. - -It was a “Missouri Republican,” date of March 26. The article said: - - TO SAN FRANCISCO IN EIGHT DAYS - BY - THE CENTRAL OVERLAND CALIFORNIA - AND - PIKE’S PEAK EXPRESS CO. - - The first courier of the Pony Express will leave the Missouri - River on Tuesday, April 3, at 5 o’clock p. m., and will run - regularly weekly thereafter, carrying a letter mail only. The - point of departure on the Missouri River will be in telegraphic - connection with the East and will be announced later. - - * * * * * - - The letter mail will be delivered in San Francisco in ten days - from the departure of the Express. The Express passes through - Forts Kearney, Laramie, Bridger, Great Salt Lake City, Camp - Floyd, Carson City, The Washoe Silver Mines, Placerville, and - Sacramento. - - * * * * * - - W. H. RUSSELL, President. - LEAVENWORTH CITY, KANSAS, - March, 1860. - -There was more than this to the advertisement, but these were the -paragraphs that appealed to Davy. - -“Pretty slick they’ve all been about it, too,” resumed Bob, tucking the -paper away again. - -“You’re right,” spoke the express messenger――who was Captain Cricket, -again on his way through to Salt Lake. “They’ve bought the ponies and -hired the riders, sixty of them. The route’s being divided into runs of -seventy-five or a hundred miles, and stocked with horses, every ten or -fifteen miles, for change of mounts.” - -“Do you think it’ll pay?” asked Gentleman Bob. - -“Pay? No! It can’t pay. But it’ll be a big advertisement for this -company. They count on showing the Government that the Salt Lake Trail -can be travelled quicker and easier than the old Butterfield overland -trail through Texas, and on taking the mail and express business away -from it.” - -“I’d like to ride one of those runs,” asserted Dave, boldly. - -Gentleman Bob laughed and cracked his silk lashed whip, of which he was -very proud. - -“I expect you would, Red,” he agreed. “But this riding a hundred miles -or more at a gallop without rest is no kid’s job, you’d find.” - -“Billy Cody’ll ride, though, I bet a dollar,” returned Davy. - -Gentleman Bob scratched his cheek with his whip stock, and deliberated. - -“Well,” he said, “I shouldn’t wonder if he would.” - -Events moved rapidly now after the Pony Express had been announced. -Three new horses were stabled at the stage station; two were wiry -ponies, the other was a mettlesome horse of such extra good points -that Gentleman Bob pronounced him a Kentucky thoroughbred. The station -force of men were increased by Pony Express employees, and a rider -himself arrived who had been engaged to take the run from Laramie west -to the next “home” station, Red Buttes, ninety-eight miles. His name -was “Irish Tom,” and he did not weigh more than one hundred pounds; but -every pound of him seemed to be good hard muscle. - -Irish Tom had come in from the west. He said that he had been one -of sixty riders hired at Carson City, Nevada, by Bolivar Roberts, -who was the superintendent of the Western Division of the Pony -Express. According to Irish Tom every man had to prove up that he -was experienced on the plains and in the mountains, and could ride. -Altogether, there were eighty riders waiting, stationed all the way -across the continent from St. Joseph on the Missouri to Sacramento in -California; there were over 400 picked horses, which would gallop at -top speed up hill and down, through sand and mud, snow and water and -sun, for at least ten miles at a stretch. - -The start from both ends of the route, from St. Joseph and from -Sacramento, was to be made (as advertised) on April 3. Of course there -was no way of knowing at Laramie, for instance, whether the start had -been made; the Pony Express would bring its own news, for the railroad -and the telegraph were the only things that could beat it, and these -seemed a long way in the future. As for the Overland Stage, the Pony -Express was scheduled to travel two miles to the stage’s one! - -April 3rd passed; so did April 4th and 5th. It was figured at the post -and stage station that on a schedule of ten miles an hour, including -stops, the 600 miles to Laramie would bring the first rider through -early on April 6th. The west-bound rider would reach Laramie before the -east-bound rider, because the distance from the Missouri River was the -shorter distance. - -Davy was among those who turned out at daybreak to watch for the first -rider. He hustled down to the stage station. The air was frosty, ice -had formed over night, and the sunrise was only a pink glow in the -east, beyond the expanse of rolling, sage-brush plain. A group of stage -and pony express employees and of people from the post had gathered, -wrapped in their buffalo-robe coats and army coats, shivering in the -chill air, but waiting. By evidence of this group the rider had not -come; but the fresh horse was standing saddled and bridled (he was the -Kentucky thoroughbred), and Irish Tom was also standing, ready, beside -it. Irish Tom wore a close-fitting leather jacket and tight buckskin -trousers, and boots and spurs and a slouch hat tied down over his ears -with a scarf. At his belt were two revolvers and a knife; and slung to -his back was a Spencer carbine, which could fire eight shots. - -All eyes were directed down the trail. - -“He’s due,” spoke the station agent. And―― - -“There he comes!” shouted somebody. “There he comes!” - -“There he comes! Hurray! There he comes!” - -Upon the dun sandy trail had appeared a black speck. How rapidly it -neared! Every eye was glued to it; Irish Tom put foot into stirrup, -hand upon mane; his horse, as if knowing, pawed eagerly. - -Now the speck had enlarged into a horseman, rising, falling, rising, -falling, upon galloping steed. The horse itself was plain――and through -the still thin air floated the heralding beat of rapid hoofs. - -The rider was leaning forward, lifting his mount to its every stride; -the horse’s head was stretched forward, he was running low and hard, -and now the steam from his nostrils could be seen in great puffs. On -they swept, they two, man and horse, every second nearer――and suddenly -here they were, the horse’s chest foam-specked, his nostrils wide and -red, his legs working forward and back, forward and back, his rider a -little fellow not much larger than Dave, crimson faced from the swift -pace through the cold night. He swung his hat, and whooped, exultant. -Up rose a cheer to greet him; and the crowd scattered, for into its -very midst he galloped at full speed. - -He jerked from underneath him a set of saddle-bags, and ere he had -stopped he flung them ahead; the station agent sprang to grab them, -and before the rider had landed upon the ground had slung them across -Irish Tom’s saddle and shouted: “Clear the way!” - -Into his saddle leaped Irish Tom, tightened lines, thrust spurs against -hide, and at a single great bound was away, bending low and racing like -mad at full gallop on up the trail for Red Buttes, almost 100 miles -westward again. In an astonishingly brief space of time he was around -the turn and out of sight; but the rapid thud of his hoofs still echoed -back. - - - - -XXI - -“PONY EXPRESS BILL” - - -The name of the rider who had just arrived was Charley Cliff. As he -stiffly swung from the saddle, a dozen hands were thrust at him to clap -him on the shoulder and to shake his hand in congratulation. - -“What did you make it in?” - -“What time is it?” he panted. - -“You arrived at five ten.” - -“Is that so? Then I made the last twenty miles in sixty-two minutes.” - -The horse looked like it. It staggered, weak-kneed, as the hostler -carefully led it to the stable. Charley also slightly staggered from -stiffness as he walked away with the agent through a lane of admirers, -for breakfast and sleep. - -Before the east-bound mail arrived on its swift journey from California -to the Missouri River, Davy and everybody else at Laramie knew just how -the system was being worked. Charley had been well questioned. - -Only the best horses were used――horses that could beat Indian horses or -anything else on the road. The Pony Express riders were supposed not -to fight but to run away. Their Spencer carbine and two revolvers and -knife were carried for use only in case that they couldn’t run away. -They all had to sign the regular Russell, Majors & Waddell pledge, and -each one was given a calf-bound Bible, just as with the bull trains. -Small horses were preferred, and a very light skeleton saddle was used. -A set of saddle-bags called a mochila (mo-cheela) was hung across the -saddle; each corner was a pocket for the mail. The pocket flaps were -locked by little brass keys, and could be unlocked only by the station -agents. The mochila was passed from rider to rider, and the mail was -taken out or put in along the route. Of course, the most of the mail -was through mail, from the East to the Coast, and from the Coast to the -East. The rate was five dollars a half ounce, and most of the letters -were written on tissue paper; the New York and St. Louis papers also -were to be printed on tissue paper for mailing by the Pony Express. -The limit was twenty pounds. Charley thought that he had brought -about three pounds. The letters were wrapped in oiled silk, so that -they would not soak with water, and were in Government Pony Express -envelopes, which cost ten cents apiece. Later Dave saw some of these -letters, directed to Laramie. Several addressed to the post sutler, -for instance, from merchant houses, had as much as twenty dollars in -postage stamps and Pony Express stamps on the envelopes! - -Gradually the names of the Pony Express riders passed back and forth -along the line. There were eighty of the riders, forty carrying the -news in one direction, forty carrying it in the other. Out on the -west end――the Pacific Division――were riding Harry Roff and “Boston,” -and Sam Hamilton (through thirty feet of snow on the Sierra Nevada -mountain range!) and Bob Haslam, and Jay Kelley, Josh Perkins, Major -Egan. In and out of Laramie rode Irish Tom, and Charley Cliff, who was -only seventeen years old. In and out of Julesburg rode Bill Hogan, and -“Little Yank,” who weighed a hundred pounds and rode 100 miles without -a rest. Further east, down the Platte, were Theo Rand and “Doc” Brink, -and Jim Beatley, and handsome Jim Moore, and little Johnny Frye――who -took the first trip out of St. Joe. - -Their names and the names of other riders travelled from mouth to -mouth――and soon tales were being told of storms and Indians and -outlaws and accidents that tried to stop the express but couldn’t. No -matter what conspired to stop him, the Pony Express rider always got -through. The first relays had carried the mail from the Missouri River -to Sacramento, California, 1966 miles, in nine days and twenty-three -hours――one hour under schedule! And after that the mail went through, -both ways, on schedule time or less. - -So, regularly as clockwork, into Laramie galloped the rider from Mud -Springs, with the west-bound mail, and the rider from Red Buttes with -the east-bound mail; in fifteen seconds the saddle bags were changed -from horse to horse and out galloped the fresh riders. Davy burned to -vault aboard the saddle, like Irish Tom or Charley, and scurry away, on -business bent, to carry the precious saddle bags to the next rider. - -But meanwhile, where was Billy Cody? - -The question was soon answered by Billy himself when, one afternoon, -into Fort Laramie pulled a Russell, Majors & Waddell bull outfit with -Government freight from Leavenworth; also with Billy Cody riding beside -Wagon Boss Lew Simpson! Never was sight more welcome to Dave, who from -the quartermaster’s office espied the familiar figure and immediately -rushed out to give greeting. - -Billy looked a little thin after the strenuous time that he had had on -the trapping expedition when he was disabled and snowed in helpless; -but he could shake hands and exchange a “Hello,” before he swung from -his mule and made for Jack Slade. - -Mr. Slade was division superintendent of the stage and Pony Express, -with headquarters at Horseshoe Station, thirty-six miles west from -Laramie. Just now he was coming across the grounds and Billy stopped -him. - -“How are you, Mr. Slade?” - -“How are you?” - -“My name’s Billy Cody, Mr. Slade. I want to ride pony express. Mr. -Russell’s sent me out to your division with a letter.” And Billy -extended the letter. - -Mr. Slade was a straight, muscular, rather slender man, with -smooth-shaven face, high cheek-bones, cool, steady gray eyes and thin -straight lips. He had the reputation of being a dangerous man in a -fight, and already he had driven Old Jules, down at Julesburg, into -hiding. He was rapidly cleaning his division of outlaws and thieves. - -Without opening the letter he scanned Billy from head to foot. Billy -stood stanch. - -“You do, do you?” presently said Mr. Slade. “You’re too young for a -pony express rider, my boy. It takes men for that business.” - -Evidently he did not know Billy Cody. - -“I rode a while on Bill Trotter’s division, sir,” responded Billy, -eagerly. “I filled the bill there, and I think I can do as well or -better now.” - -Mr. Slade seemed interested. - -“Oh! Are you that boy who was riding down there a short time back, as -the youngest rider on the road?” - -“Yes, sir. I’m the boy.” - -Mr. Slade proceeded to read the Russell letter. It must have -recommended Billy highly, for Mr. Slade appeared to be satisfied. - -“All right,” he said. “I’ve heard of you. I shouldn’t wonder if it -would shake the life out of you, but maybe you can stand it. I’ll give -you a trial, anyhow; and if you can’t stand up to it you can tend stock -at Horseshoe. I’ll let you know your run in the morning.” - -He walked away, and Billy turned to Dave with face aglow. - -“I’ve got it!” he asserted. “Hurrah! It’s on the toughest division -west of the mountains, too! I tell you that’s no joke, riding pony -express――making eighty or a hundred miles at a dead gallop night -and day, and changing horses every ten miles or so in less than two -minutes.” - -What luck! Or, no, not luck; Billy had earned it. That evening Dave -and he had a great old-time visit exchanging news. Dave did not have -much, it seemed to him, worth while to report, but Billy was full of -adventures, as usual. Davy heard again all about the trapping trip of -last winter, and how another Dave――Dave Harrington――had fought a heroic -fight with the snow to find Billy in the dug-out, and rescue him. Billy -was all right now; and after having had a short, rather easy, pony -express run down the line, was here anxious to tackle something harder. - -Mr. Slade went on to Horseshoe early the next morning, but he saw Billy -before he left, and Billy got the assignment. He hailed Dave in high -feather. - -“I’m off,” he announced. “But I’m on, too. I’ve got the run between Red -Buttes and Three Crossings! Seventy-six miles――about the hardest run on -the toughest division of the trail! Reckon maybe he thinks he has my -scalp, but he hasn’t. I’ll go through like greased lightning. That’s an -Injun and outlaw country both; and I have to ford the Sweetwater three -times in sixty yards! Slade’s a hard man to work for, too, they say. -He won’t stand for any foolishness. But I’ll get along with him all -right as soon as he finds out I do my duty. So long, Red. I’ll see you -later. You’ll hear from me, anyway. I told you I was going to ride pony -express, remember? I used to think I’d be president; but I’d rather -have this run than be boss at Washington all the rest of my life!” - -He hastily shook hands. Dave envied him heartily, but he also wished -him success. Nobody deserved success more than Billy. Of course, to be -the youngest rider on the whole route from St. Joe to Sacramento was -a big thing, and nobody can blame Davy for a trace of honest envy. He -went back to his day’s routine. The bull train pulled out at once, and -Billy started with it for his new job. - -Soon word from him travelled back to Laramie and Dave by Irish Tom, who -received the saddle bags from him at Red Buttes, and by Gentleman Bob, -who heard from him through the other stage drivers. “Pony Express Bill” -he began to be called; the “kid” rider between Red Buttes and Three -Crossings, on the Platte and Sweetwater Rivers of the Salt Lake Trail -in what is to-day south central Wyoming but which was then western -Nebraska Territory. - -Great things were reported of Billy. One time when the rider west of -him was killed, Billy rode his own run and the other run, too, and all -the way back again――322 miles at a stretch! When Mr. Slade learned of -this he said: “That boy’s a brick!” and he gave Billy extra pay. - -Another time bandits stopped Billy and demanded his express package, -which they knew contained a large sum of money. But Billy was smart. -He had hidden the real package under his saddle, and now he threw them -a dummy package containing only paper. When they stooped to pick it -up and examine it he spurred his horse right over them and was away, -flying up the trail――and although they fired at him they never touched -him! - -Another time the Sioux Indians ambushed him, and when he dashed past -they chased him. But he lay flat on his pony’s back while the arrows -whistled over him, and he rode twenty-four miles without stopping. - -Another time one bandit halted him in a lonely canyon. - -“You’re a mighty leetle fellow to be takin’ sech chances,” said the -bandit, while he held his gun pointed at Billy’s head. - -“I’m as big as any other fellow, I reckon,” answered Billy, coolly. - -“How do you figure that?” asked the bandit. - -Billy tapped his Colt’s revolver. - -“I may be little, but I can shoot as hard as if I were General -Jackson,” he warned. - -“I expect you can, an’ I reckon you would,” chuckled the bandit, -tickled with Billy’s nerve; and he let him ride on. - -So it was not long before “Pony Express Bill” was drawing $150 a month -pay, which was the top wages paid on the road. - -Meanwhile Dave felt that his work at Fort Laramie was rather tame. -It was just the same thing day after day, with only ordinary pay, -and three meals a day, and a good bed at night, and a lot of -friends――and――and――that seemed about all, except that he was learning -all the time from books and from the people about him; and he knew -that he was growing inside as well as outside. To tell the truth, he -was doing first-rate and getting ahead, and was being given more and -more responsibility and showing that he could carry it; but of course -he wanted to prove his pluck by riding pony express. That _seemed_ -bigger――whether it really was or not. - -His chance came, as it generally does to everybody who waits for it -and holds himself ready. All the summer there had been talk among the -army officers at the post and between them and the stage passengers who -passed through of affairs in the East, where a presidential campaign -was being hotly carried on. It appeared, by the talk and by the papers, -that a man named Abraham Lincoln was a candidate of the North, and -that Stephen A. Douglas was a candidate of the South, and that if -Mr. Lincoln was elected South Carolina and other Southern States -threatened to withdraw from the Union. They claimed that each State had -the right of governing itself, and that States and Territories should -decide for themselves whether or not they would own slaves within their -borders. - -The question as to whether Kansas should be “slave” or “free” had -caused fighting when that territory was being settled; and Billy -Cody’s father, who was a “Free State” man, had been so badly stabbed -that he never recovered. The settlement of Nebraska Territory also -had brought on much bitter feeling between North and South――for the -North was against the extension of slavery. So was Abraham Lincoln. -The army officers at Fort Laramie, some of whom were Northerners and -some Southerners, declared that the election of Lincoln would mean war; -according to the Northern officers, if the Southern States tried to -withdraw; according to the Southern officers, if the Southern States -were not permitted to withdraw. - -The election was to be held on November 6, and it would be November 10 -before the news of who won could reach Laramie by the Pony Express. -That was a long time at the best when such important events were -occurring; but even at that Davy (who was as impatient as anybody) -found that he might be disappointed, for he was ordered by Captain -Brown to take the stage west in the morning and go up the line to -Horseshoe Station on Government business. - -When the stage left, early, Irish Tom was still standing ready beside -his horse to take the saddle bag from Charley Cliff. Charley had not -come――and it was learned afterward that the mail was late in starting -from St. Joseph because it had waited for the election news. - -So Dave mounted the driver’s box on the C. O. C. & P. P. stage beside -Gentleman Bob, and they drove away and left the unknown news behind -them. - -However, not for long. They had gone scarcely fifteen miles when -Gentleman Bob, who had been constantly glancing over his shoulder, -exclaimed: “There he comes! Look at him, will you!” - -By “he” could be meant only one person――the Pony Express rider. Yes, -the Pony Express it was――a dark spot, rising, falling, rising, falling, -pelting up the dusty trail. - -“He’s certainly going some,” commented the stage messenger, who this -time was not Captain Cricket, but was Jack Mayfield. - -Bob flung his lash over the backs of his four mules and broke them into -a gallop. But although the stage was empty this trip and the mules -fresh, and the road smooth, the pony express closed in as fast as if -the coach were standing still. - -“Going to pass us,” laughed Bob, and slowed his team. - -And the pony express _did_ pass them. There was sudden staccato of -hoofs, like a long roll of a drum――a rush, a whoop――“Who’s elected?” -yelled Bob, turning in his seat to meet the onswoop. - -“Lincoln. New York gives fifty thousand majority,” shouted back Irish -Tom; and in a cloud of dust he was away, leaving a flake of froth on -the coach box at Davy’s feet. - -“Lincoln, huh?” remarked Gentleman Bob. “Well, I wonder what’ll happen -now. But that boy’s sure riding,” and he gazed reflectively after Irish -Tom. - - - - -XXII - -CARRYING THE GREAT NEWS - - -“Lincoln’s elected!” The words continued to ring in Davy’s ears, and -the flying shape of the Pony Express, bearing the great news, was -constantly in his eyes as at trot and gallop the stage rolled along the -Salt Lake Overland trail from Fort Laramie on. Irish Tom and his hard -pushed pony were out of sight, but they were not forgotten. - -The trail was almost deserted this morning; only one emigrant train was -passed, and, drawing aside to let the stage by, it cheered to the three -persons on the box: “Hooray for Lincoln!” - -Davy cheered back; but Gentleman Bob and Messenger Mayfield looked -straight ahead and said nothing. That was the fashion. Emigrant trains -and bull trains were considered beneath the notice of the stage coach -box. - -However, in another mile something did attract the notice of Gentleman -Bob, whose eyes were ever on the lookout, although he usually spoke -little. - -“Looks like trouble, yonder,” he remarked, pointing with his whip. -“How’s your gun, Jack? O. K.?” - -“Yes.” - -“Better have it ready. Red, you get down in the boot under the seat and -stay there, when I say so. You’re liable to be shot full of holes.” - -Bob gathered his lines tighter and peered keenly. His jaw set, as, -holding up his mules, prepared for sudden dash, he sent them forward at -brisk trot. Messenger Mayfield shifted his short double-barrelled gun -loaded with buckshot from between his knees to his lap and pulled down -his hat. - -Half a mile before, in the hollow of the sweeping curve which the coach -was rounding, was a riderless horse moving restlessly hither-thither in -the brush beside the trail; he was equipped with saddle and bridle――at -least so Bob muttered, and so the messenger agreed, and so Davy -believed that he, also, could see――but of the rider there was no sign -_yet_. - -Indians! Then why hadn’t they taken the horse? Or road agents, as the -bandits were called! The rider must have been shot from the saddle. And -would the coach, passing, find him? Or were the Indians, surprised in -the act, ambushed and waiting? Or what _had_ happened, anyway? - -“That’s the Pony Express horse, gentleman,” said Bob, quietly. “I know -the animal. There’s been bad work.” - -Mr. Mayfield, who was as nervy as Bob himself, nodded; Davy breathed -faster, his heart beating loudly; Bob flung his lash, straightened out -his team, and with brake slightly grinding descended the hill at a -gallop. - -“I see him!” exclaimed Messenger Mayfield. “At the edge of the road. -He’s hurt, but he can move.” - -Davy, too, could see a dismounted man――Irish Tom or somebody else――half -raising himself from the ground, and crawling into the trail, where he -sat waving his handkerchief. - -With rattle and shuffle and grinding of brake the coach bore down, -prepared to stop――and prepared for anything else that might befall. - -Yes, it was Irish Tom, the Pony Express rider, and that was his horse, -the saddle bags still on it, fidgeting in the brush. Tom was half -lying, half sitting, supporting himself with one arm and waving with -the other. His hat was gone, his uplifted hand bleeding, one leg seemed -useless, and altogether he appeared in a sad state. - -In a cloud of dust from the braced hoofs and locked wheels Gentleman -Bob halted with the leaders’ fore hoofs almost touching Tom. - -“What’s the matter here?” - -Tom’s face, grimy and streaked and pinched with pain, gazed up -agonizedly, but he did not mince words. The Pony Express rider was -superior even to a stage driver. - -“Catch that horse for me. I’ve broken my leg.” - -Down from the box nimbly swung Mr. Mayfield; jamming his brakes -tighter and tying the lines short, down swung Gentleman Bob. Down -clambered Dave. - -“How’d it happen?” - -“Fell and threw me. Catch him and help me on; and hurry up.” - -“Catch him, Jack; you and Dave,” bade Bob, crisply. “Where’s it broken, -Tom?” - -“High up, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll ride if it kills me. I’m late -now.” - -Luckily the horse was easily caught; his dragging lines, entangled in a -sage clump, held him until Mr. Mayfield laid hand upon them. When Dave, -with Mr. Mayfield leading the horse, returned into the road and hustled -back to Bob and Tom, Bob was arguing tensely. - -“But you can’t, Tom! You can’t do it, man! You can’t fork a saddle with -your hip broken.” - -Tom struggled to sit up――and the great beads of sweat stood out on his -red brow. - -“You help me on, and tie me there; that’s all I ask. I’ll make it. I’ve -_got_ to.” - -“We’ll take you on to the next station, and the saddle bags, too,” -retorted Bob. “That’s the quickest way. Strip that horse, Red. Give me -a lift with Tom, here, Jack. Open the coach door.” - -“But there’s nobody except the agent at the next station, Bob!” -appealed Tom, wildly. “Who’ll take the express?” - -“Then we’ll go through to the next station. They can send somebody from -there, I reckon.” - -Suddenly a great thought struck Davy――and he wondered why the same -hadn’t occurred to the others. - -“I’ll ride it, Tom! I’ll ride it, Bob! Let _me_.” And he sprang for the -express pony. - -Bob slapped his dusty thigh: The idea struck him. - -“Go it,” he exclaimed. “Take those lines. Unbuckle your guns, Tom, old -man, while I hold you.” - -“Somebody put my spurs on him,” panted Tom, tugging at his belt buckle. - -Words had been rapid, fingers worked fast; and almost in less time than -it takes to tell it, after the halting of the coach, Davy was in the -Pony Express saddle, with the final orders filling his ears. - -“Now ride, boy; ride!” - -Scarcely yet settled into the stirrups, he bounded forward (the jerk of -the mettlesome pony almost snapped his head loose), and was away. - -“Ride, boy; ride!” - -Davy jammed tighter his hat; his feet clinging to the stirrups, he half -turned in the saddle and waved his hand to the little group behind. -They would see that he was all right. They were grouped just as he had -left them: Mr. Mayfield standing, where he had strapped the spurs to -Davy’s heels after Dave had mounted; Gentleman Bob half erect, over -Tom, from whom he had passed the revolver belt. - -But even as Davy looked, they all moved, preparing to lift Tom into -the coach. Davy faced ahead and settled to his work. - -“Ride, boy; ride!” - -Well, he _could_ ride! he knew how; and if he didn’t know how he was -bound to stick, anyway. There were the plump saddle bags under him, -crossed by his legs; he was carrying the fast mail――and Lincoln was -elected! - -The pony ran without a break and needed no urging. He was trained to -his work――a stanch, swift, apparently tireless animal. The wind smote -Davy in the face, bringing water to his eyes; the sandy, beaten trail -flowed backward beneath them like a dun torrent, the sage and rocks -reeled dizzily past on either hand, and amidst the rhythmic beat of -hoofs the pony’s breaths rose to snorty grunts. - -Now another emigrant train for Salt Lake City and the Mormon colony -dotted the trail before. Past them thudded Dave, and as he raced down -the line he yelled shrilly: - -“Lincoln’s elected! Lincoln’s elected!” - -“By how much?” - -“New York gives him fifty thousand!” - -Dave was not certain what this conveyed, exactly, but it had sounded -important from Irish Tom. - -Some of the train cheered, some growled, but he speedily left both -cheers and growls behind him. - -The first of the stations appeared ahead――a blot of darker drab beside -the trail. This was one of the way stations――the stations where horses -were changed in less than two minutes. Two minutes was the limit, but -frequently the change was made in fifteen seconds. - -Dave’s pony seemed to know where he was and what was at hand. He -snorted, and at pick of spur let himself out a little longer in his -stride and doubled and stretched a little faster. - -The station swiftly enlarged. A poor place it was, Dave remembered: a -low log cabin, sod roofed, with rude log stable close behind it, and -a pole corral. The station man would be about as rude in appearance: -unshaven, well weathered, dressed in slouch hat, rough flannel shirt, -red or blue, belted trousers and heavy boots. There he lived, by -the roadside, 700 miles into the Indian country, alone amidst the -unpeopled, rolling sagy hills through which flowed the North Platte -River and extended, unending, the ribbon-like road. Dave could see him -standing in front of the buildings, holding the relay horse and peering -down the trail for its rider. The stations were required by the company -to have the fresh horse saddled and bridled and ready half an hour -before the express was due. - -Dave knew his duty, too. Not slackening pace, he loosened from the -fastenings the saddle bags under him. Up at full gallop he dashed, and -even before he had pulled his pony to its haunches, he tore the saddle -bags from beneath him and tossed them ahead. Then he was off in a -twinkling, staggering as he landed. - -“Quick!” he gasped, out of parched throat. - -The station man had stared, but he grabbed the saddle bags. - -“Who are you? Where’s Tom?” - -“Hurt. Coming on stage.” - -The saddle bags were clapped on the other saddle. Dave grasped the -bridle lines. - -“Bad?” - -“Leg broken.” And Davy, thrusting foot into stirrup, vaulted aboard -almost over the station man’s head. - -One last twitch to the saddle bags. - -“What’s the news?” - -“Lincoln’s elected. New York gives him fifty thousand majority.” And -away sprang Dave, headlong on the next leg of his route. - -Thudding through the sand, clattering over the rocks, echoing through -short defiles, ever urging his pony, rode Davy. He was resolved to go -clear through, to the home station at Red Buttes, over sixty miles. The -stations ahead had no means of knowing that an accident had befallen -the regular rider; and to mount another substitute, at short notice, -would consume valuable time. At Red Buttes Billy Cody would take the -saddle bags――and to give them to Billy he must. - -At the next station, fourteen miles, the station man had helpers in the -shape of two hostlers or stable hands. They also gazed, astonished at -sight of Dave instead of Irish Tom; but no one wasted precious moments -in explanations. The conversation was much the same as before――and on -his fresh horse Dave spurred again up the long, long trail. He passed a -toiling bull train. “Lincoln’s elected,” he shrieked as before; but he -was going so fast that he did not catch their response. He only noted -them wave their whips in salute. - -Horseshoe Station hove into view. This was headquarter’s station for -the division. Here stayed, when not on the trail, Mr. Slade, the -division superintendent; and he was in front of the station cabin with -the other men, peering down the road. - -Davy galloped in. He was assailed by a volley of queries――until Mr. -Slade cut them short. - -“No matter,” he bade curtly. “Fasten that mochila. Now ride, my lad; -you’re half an hour late!” - -“Lincoln’s elected,” gasped Davy, spurring away. - -He was getting tired. His feet were growing numb, and his ankles were -being chafed raw. Before he arrived at the next station, the Platte -River had to be forded. As he passed through, a man sprang into sight, -in the trail at the farther bank. Dave’s heart leaped into his throat. -The man was partially screened by willows. He was armed. With ears -pricked, the horse forged ahead, and the man waited. To leave the -stream bed required a little climb up the rather steep bank, and as -Dave reached it out whipped the man’s revolver and the muzzle was -trained true at Dave. It seemed to him that the round hole covered -every inch of his body. His horse shied and balked. - -“Throw off that mail bag.” - -The man was “Yank,” assistant wagon boss under Charley Martin! Dave -recognized him at once, although the slouch hat was pulled low. But -beneath the brim the eyes were those of “Yank.” - -“No,” panted Dave, trying to hold his voice steady and think of what -Billy Cody or Irish Tom would do. “It’s only election news.” - -“Throw off that mail and be quick, too,” ordered “Yank,” with a string -of curses. - -Hardly knowing what he did, but resolved to do something, Dave plunged -his spurs into his pony’s heaving flanks. With a great snort and a long -leap the pony lunged forward straight up the bank. “Yank” uttered a -sudden vicious exclamation and dived aside; but the horse’s shoulder -struck him, hurled him aside, and at the instant veering sharply into -the fringe of willows Dave sent his mount crashing through. The willows -slapped him in the face and on the body. He bent low――in a moment more -they were out of the willows, again into the trail, and tearing onward. -He heard a shot――just one; but the bullet went wide, and thudity, -thudity, he was galloping safe. A little shaky, Dave laughed; he felt -like giving a whoop――although he could not spare breath for even that. -He imagined, though, how mad “Yank” must be, and this was what had made -him laugh. - -Even with the excitement of the hold-up that failed, the road began to -seem wearisome, the ride one monotonous pound. The chafing stirrups -tortured his ankles almost beyond endurance――but not quite; no, not -quite. The saddle chafed his thighs. His mouth was parched, he could -scarcely breathe; he could scarcely see, when, ever and anon, his head -swam giddily. He forded the river again. From throbbing pain, his -ankles changed to the relief of numbness, and his feet, blistered, and -his blistered thighs gradually ceased to be his; they felt as if they -belonged to somebody else. - -He had vague recollection of arriving at the way stations, of -staggering from horse to horse, of being helped into the saddle, of -voices hailing him, and hands and voices forwarding him on again. Once -he passed the east-bound stage――and again he passed it, or another: and -he piped to the staring faces: “Lincoln’s elected. New York gives fifty -thousand majority.” The words issued mechanically, and he did not know -what effect they had. - -He had vague recollection that a bevy of Indians yelled at him and -flourished their bows, and that he heard the hiss of arrows travelling -even faster than he; but he could not stop to argue. The one fact that -stuck in his mind was that he was nearly on time. “Three minutes late,” -he thought that somebody said at the last station where he changed -horses. And――“Go it, lad! You’re a plucky one.” - -“Three minutes late” was all. The thought buoyed him up and glued him -to his saddle. Gallop, gallop, over rock and sand, through brush and -through the bare open and through occasional scrubby growth of trees; -through shaded canyons, and through the burning, windy sunshine. - -Was that Red Buttes? Was that really Red Buttes at last――the end of his -trip, where waited Billy Cody? Supposing Billy wasn’t there; would they -want _him_ to continue riding, riding, forever? He uttered a little sob -of despair, but he set his teeth hard, and resolved that he’d do it; -he’d do it, if he _had_ to. - -The road was hilly and his horse flagged. He spurred ruthlessly and -struck with his hat. If he did not arrive on time he would be ashamed, -for nobody could know how hard he had tried. Up the hill he forced -his pony and would not let him relax into a trot. Down the grade he -galloped――every forward jump a torment. Red Buttes――that _must_ be -Red Buttes――wavered strangely amidst the level expanse before. But he -reached it. At least he thought that he reached it, and he fumbled at -his saddle bags to loosen them. - -Somebody rushed forward as if to meet him and help him; and he saw, -lined plainly amidst the confused other countenances and figures, the -astonished face of Billy. - -“It’s Red! Look out! He’ll fall off!” Billy’s voice rang like a trumpet. - -“Where’s the regular man?” they demanded. - -“Tom’s hurt――away back. I took his place. Quick, Billy! Go on. -Election news. Lincoln’s elected.” - -Billy vented an exclamation. He was into the saddle atop the saddle -bags; he sprang away. - -“Take good care of that kid,” he called back. “He’s a good one.” - -“You bet we will.” - -“Am I on time?” wheezed Davy, vaguely, unable to see straight. - -“Two minutes ahead of time, lad.” - -Then they picked up Davy and carried him in, for he had fallen. He felt -that he was entitled to fall. Besides, he could not have walked to save -his life, now that he was done with the saddle bags. - - - - -XXIII - -A BRUSH ON THE OVERLAND STAGE - - -Davy was so stiff and sore that for several days he moved around very -little; but he learned that the news which he had brought in was being -rushed westward at a tremendous rate. Billy Cody had ridden the last -ten miles of his own run in thirty minutes; and by special rider from -Julesburg the tidings “Lincoln’s elected!” had been taken into Denver -only two days and twenty-one hours out of St. Joseph――665 miles. - -When Davy was on his way back to Laramie he heard, at Horseshoe -Station, that the news had been carried through to California in eight -days――two days less than schedule! That was riding! And although he -never again was on Pony Express, he felt that to the end of his life he -would be proud of having ridden it once and of having performed well. - -The people at Fort Laramie appreciated what Davy had done, and if he -had not been a sensible boy the praise that he got would have turned -his head. Captain Brown it was who summoned him over to the Brown -quarters one evening and asked flatly: - -“Dave, how would you like to go to West Point and be educated for a -soldier?” - -Dave gulped, in surprise, and blushed red. Such an education had been -beyond his dreams. - -“You have the right stuff in you, boy,” continued the captain, eyeing -him. “You’ve made a good start, but you can’t continue knocking around -this way. The frontier won’t last forever. When the telegraph comes -through, connecting the West with the East, the Pony Express will have -to quit; and there’ll soon be a railroad, and then the stage coach -business will have to quit. If we have war (and things look like it), -I’ll be ordered out; so will the other officers and men here, and what -will happen to you is a problem. See? If you want to go to West Point -you ought to begin preparing, so as to be ready when you’re old enough -to enter. It’s no easy matter to take the course at the Academy; but -it’s the finest education in the world, even if you don’t stay in the -army. I don’t want you to go there with the idea of being a fighting -man. Army officers are the last persons of all to wish for fighting. -The army has a great work to do outside of war. We’re supposed to -civilize the country and keep it peaceful. At West Point your body is -built up, and what you learn, you learn thoroughly. You come out fit to -meet every kind of emergency. What do you say? If you say ‘yes,’ then -I’ll make application for you to the President direct and ask him to -appoint you ‘at large,’ as he has a right to do, just as if you were my -own son.” - -“Yes, sir,” stammered Davy, red. “I’d like to go.” - -“Good!” exclaimed the captain, shaking with him. “I’ll make arrangements -so that if I’m ordered out you’ll be in the right hands.” - -Events seemed to occur fast. By Pony Express dispatches and the tissue -newspapers it was learned that South Carolina had withdrawn from the -Union and that the other Southern States were following suit. Abraham -Lincoln in his inauguration address besought peace but stood firmly -for a United States. His address was carried from Saint Joseph to -Sacramento, 1966 miles, in seven days and seventeen hours――a new -record. But when arrived the word that on April 12 the South Carolina -troops had bombarded Fort Sumter, then everybody knew that the war had -begun. - -Another important thing, also, occurred. Before spring a stranger who -created considerable talk came through by stage bound west. He was Mr. -Edward Creighton――a pleasant gentleman with an Irish face; and was on -his way to Salt Lake looking over the country with a view to putting -in a telegraph line through to Salt Lake City. A California company -was to build from California east to Salt Lake and it was rumored that -the Government offered a payment of $40,000 a year to the company that -reached Salt Lake the first. This meant, of course, a line clear -across from the Missouri to the Pacific coast. - -In the hurly-burly of troops preparing to leave for the front in the -East, Davy had the idea that he, too, should go as a drummer boy, -maybe. The sight of Billy Cody hurrying through was hard to bear. - -Billy appeared unexpectedly on the stage from Horseshoe Station, where -he had been an “extra” rider under direct orders of Superintendent Jack -Slade himself. - -“Hello, Billy!” - -“Hello, Dave.” - -“Where are you going now, Billy?” - -“Back home. I haven’t been home for a year, and my mother wants to see -me. She’s poorly again. I guess I’d better be where things are boiling, -too. This war won’t last more than six months, they say; but Kansas -is liable to be a hot place with so many Southerners just across the -border in Missouri. I ought to be on hand in case of trouble around -home.” - -That was just like Billy――to be on hand! Dave had more than half a -mind to accompany him to Leavenworth, and Captain Brown, about to -leave himself, had about decided that Leavenworth would be the best -place, when the matter was solved by the appearance of the Reverend Mr. -Baxter, who arrived on the next stage from the west. - -“Gee whillikins!” exclaimed Dave, overjoyed, rushing to meet him. “What -are _you_ doing here?” - -“Oh, merely coming through on my way from Salt Lake back to Denver,” -laughed Mr. Baxter. “I’m messenger on the stage between Julesburg and -Denver, but I’ve been off on a little vacation with a survey party for -a new stage road. I heard you were here. You’re celebrated since you -made that splendid ride, Davy.” - -Davy blushed again. He hated to blush, but he had to. - -“What are you doing these days?” demanded Mr. Baxter. - -As soon as he heard of Davy’s plans and present fix, he insisted that -Davy travel down to Denver with him and stay there. - -“Room with me, Dave?” he proffered generously. “I need a bunky. You can -get work easy enough――I know the very place where they can use a boy -who can write and figure――and I’ll tutor you. It will do me good to -brush up a little in mathematics and all that.” - -Captain Brown agreed, and the matter was promptly settled. Away went -Dave, and the next day Captain Brown himself left for Fort Leavenworth, -and then――where? His going would have made Laramie rather empty for -Dave. - -Denver had grown amazingly. There was now no “Auraria”; all was Denver -City――and what had been known as “Western Kansas” and the “Territory -of Jefferson,” was the Territory of Colorado. On both sides of Cherry -Creek many new buildings, two and three stories, some of the buildings -being brick, had gone up; potatoes and other produce were being raised, -and the streets, busier than ever, were thronged with merchants and -other real citizens, as well as with miners and bull whackers. - -Mr. Baxter took Davy over to see the lots that they had bought for the -sack of flour two years before. Then, the lots had been out on the very -edge of town; now they were right in the business district. The Jones -family had not cared for them; had sold them for a mere song and had -pushed on to “get rich quick” mining. The Joneses had gone back to the -States, poor; but the lost lots were being held by the present owners -at $1000 apiece. - -Mr. Baxter made good his promise, and Dave found a niche (which -appeared to have been made especially for a red-headed boy, with spunk, -who could read and write as well as take care of himself on the trail) -in the Elephant Corral. This was a large store building and yard for -the convenience of merchants and overland traffic. It dealt in flour -and feed and other staples consigned to it, and was headquarters for -bull outfits arriving and leaving. - -The war excitement continued. Colorado, like Kansas and Nebraska, sent -out its volunteers in response to the calls of President Lincoln. Mr. -Baxter tried hard to be accepted as a chaplain, but the examining -surgeons refused him, he confided to Davy, because he had a “bum lung.” - -“So, Davy boy,” he said, “you and I will have to fight the battle of -peace, and win our honors there, at present.” - -They heard that Captain Brown had been made a general, and Billy Cody -and Wild Bill, too, were serving on the Union side as scouts and -despatch bearers in Kansas and Missouri. As for Davy, he pegged along, -rooming and boarding with Mr. Baxter, doing his work at the Elephant -Corral and studying evenings. - -Meanwhile, the staging and freighting across the plains and to Salt -Lake continued, when not interrupted by the Indians. The Butterfield -“Southern Overland,” through Texas and New Mexico and Arizona to -California, which had been carrying the Government mail for two years, -had to be discontinued on account of the war and the Apache Indians; -and the contract was given to the “Central” route, operated by Russell, -Majors & Waddell. This meant $400,000 a year from the Government, and -it looked as though the Central Overland, California & Pike’s Peak need -no longer be called the “Clean Out of Cash & Poor Pay”; but soon the -word came that the whole line had been bought in by a big creditor, Ben -Holladay. - -Great things were expected of Ben Holladay. Dave had seen him once or -twice――a large, heavy man, with square, resolute face; clean-shaven -cheeks, and gray beard. He was a veteran freighter and trader on the -plains, and had been in business in Salt Lake, California, St. Louis -and New York, and was a hustler. He hastened to increase the service -of his stage line. No expense or trouble was too much for him. The -line was known now as “Ben Holladay’s Line,” and “The Overland Stage.” -The old route north from Julesburg and around by Fort Laramie was -changed to a shorter route (the route which Mr. Baxter had helped -survey for Russell, Majors & Waddell at the time when he picked up Dave -at Laramie), which from Latham, sixty miles north of Denver, veering -northwest crossed the mountains at Bridger’s Pass for Salt Lake. At -Salt Lake the celebrated Pioneer Stage Line continued with passengers -and mail and express for Placerville, California. - -The very fall after Dave arrived in Denver Mr. Creighton finished his -telegraph line into Salt Lake City, and won the $40,000 a year prize -offered by the Government. The California company met him there; the -first message was flashed through from coast to coast (“The Pacific -to the Atlantic sends greeting,” it said; “and may both oceans be dry -before a foot of all the land that lies between shall belong to any -other than a united country”); and, as Captain Brown had predicted, the -Pony Express must stop. The Holladay stages carried the mails. - -Every morning at eight o’clock sharp they left Atchison below St. -Joseph on the Missouri River; at Latham the Salt Lake coaches -proceeded on to Salt Lake and the Denver coaches turned south to -Denver――and usually got in with such regularity that Denver people -set their watches by them! There never had been such a stage coach -magnate as Ben Holladay. His six- and nine-passenger Concord coaches -were the best that could be built――and on the main line alone he used -100. His horses were the best that could be bought――and of these and of -mules he had, on the main line, 3000. His drivers were paid the best -salaries――$125 and $150 a month. And for carrying the mails he received -from the Government $650,000 a year. When, several times a year, he -went over his whole lines he travelled like a whirlwind and caused a -tremendous commotion. - -But speedily the regular operation of the Holladay Overland Express was -badly interrupted, for the Indians began to ravage up and down. All the -way from central Kansas to the mountains they destroyed stations and -attacked stages. The stages ran two at a time, for company, and were -protected by squads of soldiers; but even then they did not always get -through, and Denver was cut off from the outside world for weeks at -a time. Whenever Mr. Baxter started out as messenger Dave was afraid -that he would not come back alive; but somehow he managed to make the -trip, although he was apt to return in a coach riddled with arrows and -bullets. - -The summer of 1864, when Davy was almost seventeen and old enough to -enter the Military Academy, was the worst season of all for Indian -raids. Stations and ranches for hundreds of miles at a stretch were -pillaged, and the stages ceased altogether between the mountains and -the Missouri. Then, in the fall, there came a lull――of which Dave was -heartily glad, for he had been ordered to report at Fort Leavenworth -for examination. His appointment had come, signed by Abraham Lincoln. - -“I’ll see you through to Atchison, Dave,” said Mr. Baxter; “and to -Leavenworth, too. The return trip will be my last run.” - -“Why so, Ben?” asked Davy, astonished. - -“Because I’m going to change to a more permanent business while I can. -The railways are coming. The Central Pacific’s building a little every -year east out of California, and as soon as the war’s over the Union -Pacific will start from its end, at the Missouri. When the two roads -meet, with trains running across the continent, this staging business -will be knocked flat, and we messengers will be stranded. I’ve got my -health now; I’m as good a man as anybody, and when I get back from -Atchison I’ll go into something different. I’ve several offers pending. -See?” - -That sounded like sense; but Dave was pleased that Mr. Baxter had not -quit before this trip, for he had counted on going out in Ben’s coach. - -The fare from Denver to the Missouri River was up to $175, but Davy had -saved this, and more. The stages left from the Planters’ Hotel. The -first stage out, after the long interruption, created much excitement. -At least fifty passengers clamored for places, but there was room for -only nine in the body――and even they were crowded by mail sacks. Dave -sat on the driver’s box with Ben and the driver, who was Bob Hodge. - -Everybody on the line knew Bob Hodge; he was one of the “king whips,” -and very popular. The Holladay stage drivers out of the principal -stations dressed the best that they could, for they were persons of -consequence. Polished boots, broadcloth trousers tucked in, soft silk -shirts with diamond stud, rakish hat and kid gloves were none too good -for them. Bob wore a suit of buckskin――with its decorations of beads -and fringes, the finest suit in Denver. As he stepped from the hotel -he elegantly drew on a pair of new yellow kid gloves. He nodded to Ben -and Dave, and tucked a brass horn, which was his pride, in the seat. -On this horn he was accustomed to perform when he wanted amusement and -when he approached stations. His other pride was his whip――of ebony -handle inlaid with silver. All the Holladay stage drivers owned their -whips and would not lend them. - -Bob climbed aboard, Ben and Dave followed. Two hostlers held the -six-horse team by the bits; another handed up the lines to Bob――who -condescended to receive them. - -“Think she’ll get through, Bob?” queried several voices, referring to -the coach. - -“Oh, I reckon. She’s been through several times before,” drawled Bob. - -And by the looks of “her,” she evidently had been through something. It -had been a beautiful coach, in the beginning, painted a glossy bright -green, trimmed with gilt; but now it was scarred by storm and Indians. -The very boot curtain behind Dave’s feet was punctured in two places by -arrows, and there were other holes through the coach sides. - -Bob glanced at his gold watch. He grasped lines and whip, nodded at -the hostlers (they sprang from the leaders’ bits), released the heavy -brake with a bang; to the crack of his whip forward leaped the six gray -horses, whose harness was adorned with ivory rings. The watching crowd -gave a cheer, and, driving with one hand, Bob played what he called -“Into the Wilderness.” - -Bob’s run was only to Latham, sixty miles down the Platte. Here he -descended, in lordly fashion, from his seat――and out of the coach must -issue the passengers, much to their disgust. The mails from the west -had been piling up for six weeks, and were of more importance than -people. Forty-one sacks were stored aboard by the station agent, until -the coach was heaped to the roof, and the big boot was overflowing. The -coach now carried a ton of mail――and Ben, Davy and the driver. - -Express messengers rode an entire division, such as between Atchison -and Denver, between Denver and Salt Lake, and between Salt Lake and -Placerville of California. So Ben continued on, with Dave as his guest. -The new driver was “Long Slim”――another odd character. “Long Slim” was -six feet three inches tall, and so thin that he claimed when he stood -sideways he wouldn’t cast a shadow. He was much different from dandy -Bob Hodge; for he wore cowhide boots, a blue army overcoat, and a -buffalo fur cap. - -Long Slim drove to Bijou Station, and here another driver took charge. -Stage drivers drove forty or fifty miles, or from “home” station to -“home” station. In between, about every ten miles, were the “swing” -stations, where the teams were changed. Meals were served at the home -stations. - -The change of drivers was interesting, and really made little -difference to Dave, for none of them talked much; and as the coach -rolled further eastward into the Indian country the talk was less and -less. At the swing stations the teams were always standing, harnessed -and waiting. The driver grandly tossed down the lines and yawned; the -old team was whisked out in a jiffy, the new team trotted into place -without being told, the station men handed up the lines to the box, and -away went the stage again. - -At the home stations the driver――“Long Slim,” or “Deacon,” or “Dad,” or -“Mizzou,” or whatever he was called, followed his lines to the ground, -said (if he chose): “All quiet so far, Hank,” and strolled into the -station. If he mentioned a drink of water, half the station force -rushed to get it for him. He was a king, was the driver on the Overland -Stage! - -At Bijou Station, six soldiers of the Colorado cavalry picked up the -stage and escorted it, riding three on a side, for about 100 miles. -At least they were there when Davy peeked out of the boot under the -driver’s seat, where he slept, curled in a ball, very comfortably, -while the coach rocked and swayed through the night. - -The Seventh Iowa Cavalry next took the stage, galloping and trotting -beside it down the trail along the Platte River. - -The stage stations and the ranches looked as if they had been having a -tough time. Most of the ranch buildings were in ruins and abandoned; -many of the stage stations had been burned, and the station men were -living in dug-outs, some of which were merely holes in the ground, -roofed over with a pile of dirt loop-holed for rifles. Meals at the -home stations were $1.50, cooked by the station agents’ brave wives or -by the men themselves. Some of the meals were very poor, too――and some -astonishingly good. - -All went well with the stage until between Cottonwood and Fort Kearney -the driver, who was known as “Waupsie,” pointed to the south with his -whip. - -“There they are,” he said quietly; and instantly flung out his lash. - -The silken snapper cracked like a pistol shot, and out launched the -team. Down from a low row of sandy buttes half a mile to the south and -ahead were speeding a bevy of dark dots. Davy’s heart skipped a beat. -The dots were making for the trail, as if to cut off the coach. They -were Indians, sure. - -“What’ll we do, Waupsie?” asked Ben, coolly. “Beat ’em in?” - -“We’ll do the best we can. Six miles to go is all,” answered Waupsie, -in grim manner. And he yelled to the cavalrymen: “You’ll have to ride -faster than that, boys.” - -The corporal in charge of the squad had spoken gruffly. Three before, -three behind, the soldiers were rising and falling in their stirrups -and urging on their horses. The grade was slightly down hill, and -it was evident that the cavalry horses were no match for the stage -team――six splendid blacks, grain fed and long-legged. Soon the coach -gradually drew even with the leading soldiers and began to pass them in -spite of their efforts. - -“Can’t wait,” yelled Waupsie, “Goodby. Fact is,” he remarked, half to -himself, “I can’t hold ’em. Drat their skins!” - -The whoops of the Indians were plainly heard; the breeze was from the -south, and as if smelling the red enemy the stage horses were wild with -fear. Braced, Waupsie sawed on the lines; his foot pressed the brake -hard, but he might as well have saved his strength. - -Waupsie had no time or opportunity to use a gun; his business was to -drive. Ben cocked his shot-gun lying across his knees. - -“Get in the boot, Dave,” he bade. - -Davy started to slide under, but stopped ashamed. In a rush the -Indians, whooping and frantically brandishing bows and lances, charged -the trail, cutting in behind, and racing on both sides before. The -cavalry squad were now far in the rear. - -With a thud an arrow landed full in the coach side; another quivered in -the flank of the off wheel horse――and he leaped prodigiously. - -“Steady! Steady, boys!” besought Waupsie. - -The arrows were hissing and thudding. The painted Indians looked like -demons. Ben flung up his gun, took hasty aim, and at the report the -nearest Indian on the left (a particularly determined fellow) swerved -away, reeling in his saddle pad. Red spots could be seen on his side -where the buck-shot had struck. At the rear the cavalrymen were -shooting vainly, and suddenly Waupsie gave an exclamation. - -“Take these lines, quick!” he said. “Confound it!” - -An arrow had pinned his right arm to his side. He jerked at it and -could not budge it, and Ben grabbed the lines. - -“You take my gun, Dave,” he ordered. “Don’t shoot unless you have to; -and then shoot the ponies. Fight ’em off.” - -Dave promptly seized the gun from Ben’s lap, and at once he saw the -reason in the last order. The Indians were racing on either side; -whenever he raised the gun to aim every Indian on that side ducked -to the opposite flank of his horse, and left only a moccasin sole in -sight. That was a small mark at which to aim from a jolting coach. Dave -aimed and aimed again; whenever he paused, up bobbed the Indians; when -he pointed the gun at them, down they ducked; and all the time they -were shooting from underneath their ponies’ necks or from the saddle. - -“That’s right. Fight ’em off, Davy. It’s as good as emptying your gun,” -panted Ben, hanging hard to the lines. Waupsie was plying the whip――now -and then to drop it and level his revolver. - -[Illustration: “THAT’S RIGHT. FIGHT ’EM OFF, DAVY”] - -“Fight ’em off, Davy!” - -A sharp shock almost paralyzed Dave’s right arm, and through shoulder -and arm surged a red-hot pain. He nearly dropped the gun. He glanced at -his shoulder and saw a flush of crimson dyeing his shirt. But no arrow -was sticking there as he had feared. It was only a gash. All right. - -“Hurt, Dave?” queried Ben. - -“No, not much,” said Davy, firmly. - -“We’ll make it,” uttered Waupsie. “Got to. Fight ’em off, boys!” - -The sandy plain flowed past; another horse had been wounded and the -coach was fairly bristling with shafts. But the gallant team never -slackened their furious pace, and suddenly with a final chorus -of whoops and a last volley, the Indians turned and raced away; for -yonder, around the turn, appeared the home station. - -“Humph!” muttered Waupsie. “Those Injuns are just on a lark. Now I’ll -get quit of this arrow.” - -The cavalry squad did not arrive until after the coach had left; -another squad escorted it to Fort Kearney, and by the time Atchison was -reached, two days afterward, Dave’s shoulder was beginning to heal. - -“It doesn’t hurt much, really, Ben,” he insisted; but he was proud of -his wound. The scar he carries to-day and other scars besides. - -From Atchison he and Ben went down to Leavenworth. On the street at -Leavenworth a hand clapped him on his shoulder (fortunately his well -shoulder), and looking up he looked into the face of Billy Cody. - - - - -XXIV - -BUFFALO BILL IS CHAMPION - - -It was not “Little Billy Cody” now――the slender boy whose boots had -seemed too large for him even when he was riding Pony Express. It was -“Scout Cody”――a man with wide, piercing brown eyes, long wavy yellow -hair, a silky light-brown moustache, a pair of broad shoulders above a -wiry waist, and an alert, springy step. But he was “Billy Cody” after -all. - -He and Wild Bill Hickok had been serving together with the Union army -in Missouri and Arkansas; and now he was at Leavenworth on a furlough -from detached duty at St. Louis. - -He could give Davy only a half hour; Davy heard some of his adventures -and learned also that “Mother Cody” had gone (what a brave, sweet woman -she had been!), and that the Cody home in Salt Creek Valley had been -broken up. Truly, the West was undergoing great changes. - -Greater changes still occurred in the next three years. Dave entered -West Point in June of the next summer, 1865, and for the succeeding two -years he studied hard. When he was given his furlough he spent part of -it with General Brown, who, luckily, was stationed at Fort Leavenworth. - -The two years at the Military Academy had formed a different boy of -Dave. The strict discipline had taught him how to make the most of his -time, and the constant drill exercises had straightened him up and -trained all his muscles as well as his mind. He felt quite like a man -as he shook hands with the general and met his approving eye. - -One of his first questions to the general, after the greetings and -polite inquiries, was about Billy Cody. - -“‘Billy’ Cody, you say?” laughed the general. “Haven’t you been reading -the papers?” - -“I’m afraid I haven’t, general,” confessed Dave. “We don’t have much -time to read the papers at the Academy, you know.” - -“That’s so,” chuckled the general. “You don’t. But your friend and -mine, Billy Cody, has a new name. He’s now ‘Buffalo Bill.’ He’s been -supplying buffalo meat to the grading contractors on the Kansas -Pacific. They need about twelve buffalo a day, and he took the job for -$500 a month. It’s been a dangerous business, and he hunts alone out -on the plains, with one man following in a wagon to do the butchering -and load the meat, and the Indians are always trying to get Bill’s -scalp. So far he’s outwitted them, and he’s been bringing in the meat -so regularly that at night when he rides in the boys in the camps yell: -‘Here comes old Bill with more buffalo!’ and ‘Buffalo Bill’ he is. He’s -been married, too, you know.” - -“Oh, has he?” And Dave spoke impulsively. “I’d like to see him mighty -well.” - -“You can. The railroad’s running trains about 500 miles west from the -river, nearly to Sheridan, and you’ve got here just in time to go along -with us and see a big contest between Buffalo Bill and Billy Comstock, -the chief of scouts at Fort Wallace there. They’re to hunt buffalo -together for eight hours, and the one who kills the most wins a nice -little purse of $500, gold. Billy Comstock is a fine young fellow, a -great hunter and a crack shot――but I’ll back Buffalo Bill.” - -So, thought Dave, loyally, would he, too. - -The contest had excited great interest. An excursion for friends of -the rivals and for sight-seers was to be run clear through from St. -Louis. Every army officer and soldier who could leave was going from -Fort Leavenworth. Leader of all was General George A. Custer, the -famous “Boy General with the Golden Locks” (as during the war the -newspapers had called him), who with his fighting Seventh Cavalry had -arrived at Fort Leavenworth after a summer’s campaign on the plains. -Of course, everybody in army circles knew about General Custer, the -dashing cavalryman, with his curling yellow hair and his crimson tie. -Introduced to him by General Brown, Dave blushed and stammered and felt -that he must cut a very poor figure. - -It seemed strange that a railroad actually was on its way across the -plains. In fact, there were two railroads jutting out from the Missouri -River for the farther West. Northward from Omaha the celebrated Union -Pacific had built clear to Julesburg, and was hustling along to Utah -at the rate of five and six miles a day. It followed the old Overland -Trail up the Platte, and ate the stages as it progressed. - -Here at the southward the Kansas Pacific, or “Eastern Division” of the -Union Pacific, was reaching westward out of Leavenworth for Denver. It -followed the Smoky Hill Fork Trail taken by the Hee-Haw Express――the -memorable outfit of Dave’s and Billy’s and Mr. Baxter’s, and all, to -the “Pike’s Peak Country” and the “Cherry Creek diggin’s.” Yes, it -did seem strange to Dave to be riding that trail in a train of cars -drawn by a snorting steam-engine and crowded with laughing, shouting -people――travelling in an hour a distance that would have required from -the Hee-Haw Express a day, perhaps! But the Hee-Haw Express had not -been such a bad experience after all, and it had been fun as well as -work. - -Gracious, how Kansas had settled! The Salt Creek Valley, people said, -was all taken up by farms. The railroad route from Leavenworth down -to the Kansas River at Lawrence certainly passed through nothing but -farms and settlements, and on up the Kansas to the Smoky Hill Fork at -Junction City all the country was farms, farms, farms, punctuated by -towns and cities. - -Along the Smoky Hill Fork trail a number of new forts had been -established, protecting the way for the railroad. First beyond Fort -Riley, which Davy remembered from the time when the Hee-Haws passed it, -was Fort Harker, next would come Fort Hays, and then Fort Wallace near -Sheridan. - -The train left Leavenworth early in the morning; the run to the end of -the track would take about twenty-five hours, with stops for meals. -It would appear, from the looks of the country between Lawrence and -Junction City across the river from Fort Riley, that there were no -more wild Indians and buffalo; but westward from Junction City things -suddenly changed; and when Dave awakened from a brief doze here were -the same old brown plains again, ready for the bull whacker, the stage -coach, the buffalo and the Indians. - -The train was jammed with all kinds of people from St. Louis, Kansas -City, Leavenworth, Lawrence, Topeka――everybody having a good time. -In the last car were Mrs. Cody and little daughter Arta. Davy had a -glimpse of her――a handsome woman with glowing dark eyes. Buffalo Bill -had met her during the war, in St. Louis, and they had been married -two years now. She and little Arta and General Custer were the main -attraction on the whole train. - -The train was a travelling arsenal. At the front end of Davy’s car -was a stand containing twenty-five breech-loading rifles and a large -chest of cartridges, with the lid opened. The conductor (who, people -said, was an old Indian fighter) wore two revolvers at his waist, and -carried his rifle from car to car. Almost every man was armed with some -sort of a gun, and all the passengers and train crew were constantly -on the lookout for “Injuns” and buffalo. As the train roared onward -further into the plains, its snorty, busy little engine sounded five -short whistles. Out from the windows down the line of coaches were -thrust heads. Men who had no gun made a rush for the stand of arms, and -grabbed rifles and cartridges. - -“Buffalo! Buffalo!” - -“Where? Quick!” - -“There they go!” - -“Where? Oh, I see them!” - -“Mercy, what monsters!” - -There were people aboard who actually never had seen a buffalo. - -“What beards!” - -“Are those really buffalo?” - -“Shoot!” - -“Conductor! Stop the train!” - -Bang! Bangity-bang! Bang! Bang! Everybody who could get a glimpse -poked his gun out of a window and fired. Two big buffalo bulls were -racing the train; heads down, tails up, trying to cross in front of it. -The rain of bullets had not touched them. One crossed; but the other -suddenly whirled on the track and charged the engine. The cow-catcher -lifted him high――Davy had sight of his great shaggy shape turning a -somersault in the air, and funny enough he looked, too, with mane and -tail flying. He landed with a thump; people laughed so that they forgot -to shoot again until too late; and gazing back Davy was glad to witness -him scramble to his feet, shake himself, and glare after the train and -bellow defiance. - -It struck Dave as rather of a shame to pepper the buffalo from the -windows of a moving train――which, he heard, sometimes did not even stop -to make use of the meat, but left the carcasses lying for the wolves. -Dusk soon settled, so that there was little more shooting. With a stop -for water and supper, on through the darkness rumbled the train. The -passengers slept in their seats――an uncomfortable way, but they did -not mind. Judging from the looks of Forts Harker and Hays, which were -merely log cabins with sod roofs, the cars were the best place. - -The talk among the passengers was mainly of buffalo and of the Indians -(who had been fighting the advance of the railroad through their -hunting-grounds), and of the match between Buffalo Bill Cody and Scout -Will Comstock. - -As for Will Comstock, the people said that he was a young fellow with -the figure of a mere boy and the face of a girl――but that no braver -scout ever rode the plains. However, Billy Cody seemed to have the -majority. He had been making a great record since the war. He had -driven stage for a little while on the Overland Trail; then he had -married; and soon he was scouting again for the army on the Smoky Hill -Trail. He had guided General Custer on a dangerous trip out of Fort -Harker, and had been guide and dispatch bearer out of Fort Hays, and -nobody except Wild Bill (who was a scout on this line, too) was thought -to be quite his equal. - -Almost as famous as Buffalo Bill were his buffalo horse, Brigham, and -his rifle, Lucretia; against these three Billy Comstock, good as he -was, did not stand much show. - -It was a jolly excursion crowd this: soldiers and civilians, city -people and country people, residents and tourists, men, women and -some children, all packed tight and bent on seeing the “big match” -advertised to take place between Buffalo Bill Cody and Will Comstock, -the other famous scout. - -Early in the morning the tracks ended about twenty miles this side of -Sheridan. And here, on the open prairie, were gathered an astonishing -amount of vehicles, animals and horsemen. The spot looked like a land -opening――or a picnic. Davy recognized Billy Cody at once. - -With a group of army officers, scouts in buckskin, and other horsemen, -Billy was sitting on his horse at the edge of the mass of carriages. -The train-load of excursionists fairly burst from the cars, even -climbing out through the windows, and made a rush for the vehicles. -Davy forged ahead for Billy Cody. Billy had left his horse and when -Davy saw him next he was gallantly escorting his wife and little -daughter to an army ambulance; as he came back Dave caught him. - -“Hello, Billy.” - -“By thunder! That name sounds familiar, Dave! Well, I’m certainly glad -to see you.” - -They gripped hands. As Buffalo Bill, Billy looked older than he had -as Scout Cody, even, during the war. His face had been bronzed deeper -by hard plains riding, day and night, and on his firm chin he wore -a little goatee. His suit of Indian tanned buckskin was beaded and -fringed, and fitted him to perfection. A fine figure of a man he was, -too; every inch of him. - -There was little time to exchange greetings or words. Everything was -confusion――and the day would soon pass. - -“Go in and win, Billy.” - -“You bet I will, Dave.” - -And with that Billy strode hastily back to his horse――brushing by the -many hands held out to stay him a moment. - -The match was to last from eight in the morning to four in the -afternoon if buffalo could be found. Slim and active, and as -picturesque as Buffalo Bill himself, General Custer, from horseback, -announced in a loud voice that the spectators were to follow the -hunters until the herd was sighted and then must stay behind so as not -to alarm the buffalo, until the shooting had begun. After that they -might go as near as they pleased. - -Buffalo Bill and Scout Comstock led away; behind them rode the -horsemen, chiefly scouts and army officers. A large bunch of cavalry -mounts had been sent out from Fort Wallace, near Sheridan, for the -visitor officers, and Davy (who was almost an officer) was accorded the -courtesy of one. So he was well fixed. Trailing the horsemen came the -excursionists in army ambulances and old coaches and spring wagons and -even buggies――raked and scraped from far and near. - -Thus they all proceeded across the rolling prairie. The scene resembled -a picnic more than ever. - -Buffalo Bill, the talk said, was riding Brigham, his favorite buffalo -runner――and a scrubby looking horse Brigham was, too, for a hunter -and a racer. Billy’s gun was a heavy, long-barrelled single-shot――a -breech-loading Springfield army gun of fifty calibre. - -Will Comstock was apparently much better mounted and better armed. His -horse was a strong, active, spirited black, and his gun was a Henry -repeating carbine. He himself seemed a young fellow to be chief of -scouts at Fort Wallace; his face was smooth and fair, his eyes roundly -blue, and his waist was as small as a girl’s. - -Suddenly Buffalo Bill raised his hand; and at the instant a hum of -excitement welled from the crowd. There were some buffalo――there, about -a mile ahead on the right, a good-sized herd, peacefully grazing. -Away sped Buffalo Bill and Scout Comstock and two other horsemen, to -get to the windward. The two other horsemen were the referees, one to -accompany each hunter and keep tab on him. - -The rest of the crowd followed slowly, so as to give the hunters plenty -of time to begin. - -On and on spurred the group of four. They swerved for the buffalo herd; -and separating, as if by agreement, into pairs, dashed into the herd -that way――Buffalo Bill and his referee on the right, Scout Comstock and -his referee on the left. As soon as the first shot echoed back across -the prairie, the cry went up: “They’re in! They’re in!” and wildly -excited, straight for the field broke the eager spectators. - -The wagons jounced and bounded, the horses and mules snorted, -women screamed, men shouted――and better equipped than those other -excursionists, on horseback amidst his army friends Davy forged to the -front. - -When they arrived the contest was well under way. Scout Comstock had -ridden almost out of sight, pelting along and shooting into the rear -of his bunch. He had left a trail of dead buffalo, as if he had made -every shot count. Buffalo Bill, however, was right here, working by a -different system. Evidently he had hastened to the head of his bunch -first, and turned them――until now he had them all actually running in -a small circle. He was riding around the outside at an easy lope on -Brigham, and steadily firing, oftentimes without raising his gun from -across the saddle horn. - -Brigham’s bridle lines were hanging loose. He needed no guiding. He -knew just what was to be done. He loped to the side of a buffalo and -stayed there a moment until the gun went “Bang!” Then, even before the -buffalo had fallen, he loped on to another, put his master in good -position, and at the report of the rifle continued to the next! - -“A wonderful horse! A wonderful horse!” ejaculated General Brown. “Why, -teach that horse to shoot and he wouldn’t need a rider. Bill could sit -and look on!” - -“He nurses the buffalo together and all Bill has to do is to load and -fire. He scarcely needs to aim,” said another officer. - -Presently Buffalo Bill had shot down every buffalo in the bunch; there -were thirty-eight, dead as doornails. When Bill Comstock returned, his -horse blown, from chasing his bunch as far as he could, his referee -reported twenty-three as that count. - -The horses were rested until another herd appeared. Out of this -Buffalo Bill killed eighteen with the help of old Brigham, and Billy -Comstock killed fourteen. So at noon the score stood: Buffalo Bill (and -Brigham), fifty-six; Billy Comstock only thirty-seven. - -Luncheon was spread out on the prairie by the excursionists and -everybody ate. The opinion was that Buffalo Bill had won; Billy -Comstock never could catch up――not even if they traded horses! - -After luncheon Buffalo Bill suddenly stood, and, going to Brigham, -quickly stripped him of saddle and bridle. - -“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Billy, “in order to give my friend -Comstock a chance I’m going to finish my hunt without saddle and -bridle――and even then I’ll wager I’ll down more buffalo than he will.” - -“Oh, Mr. Cody! Please don’t!” begged one of the women excursionists, -who had been nervous all along. “You’ll certainly be hurt.” - -Buffalo Bill smiled and shook his head. - -“There’s not the slightest cause for alarm,” he said. “I’ve ridden this -way many a time. Old Brigham knows as well as I what’s to be done――and -sometimes a great deal better.” - -Riding thus without saddle and bridle, out of the next herd Buffalo -Bill, so cleverly guided by Brigham, easily killed thirteen more -buffaloes. The last he drove with a rush straight toward the -spectators, and laughed as he downed it almost at their feet. Slipping -from his bareback seat, he doffed his hat and bowed. - -“You see?” he bade. - -Scout Comstock came in with a count of only nine. - -“I’m done,” he said frankly. “How many in all, Bill?” - -“Sixty-nine.” - -“Forty-six here.” And he shrugged his slender shoulders. “Well, Bill, -you’re a wonder. There’s not another man on the plains could have done -it. Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, “three cheers for Buffalo Bill -Cody, the boy ‘extra,’ the kid express rider, the champion buffalo -hunter, and the best man that ever rode the plains.” - - * * * * * - -The excursion train returned that night, and Davy returned with it. But -Buffalo Bill stayed out on the plains, scouting for the army against -the Indians. Davy kept track of him, for the name of “Buffalo Bill,” -dispatch bearer and guide, was constantly in the papers. When in June, -1869, Davy graduated from the Military Academy, and soon was assigned -to the Fifth Cavalry in Nebraska, Buffalo Bill had been appointed by -General Phil Sheridan as chief of scouts to serve with it. - -This spring the Union Pacific Railway had met the Central Pacific -Railway in Utah and the tracks joined. The Overland Trail had been -spanned at last by iron rails; but there was still much work to be done -to make the plains safe for the settler, his home, his church and his -school-house; and helping to do it, Dave and Buffalo Bill often rode -together, man and man. - - - * * * * * - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Except for the frontispiece and portrait, illustrations have been - moved to follow the text that they illustrate. - - ――Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected. - - ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO BILL AND THE OVERLAND -TRAIL *** - -***** This file should be named 64231-0.txt or 64231-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/3/64231/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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