Buffalo Bill's death message or, In the face of doom
hastened to get the horses. Then he removed Gomez’s jacket and hung it
in the tree so that it could be seen.
“That will bring ’em to help this critter that’s wounded,” he explained,
and as he helped the scout to the saddle he began to tell his story,
without having been asked to do so.
“As I said, my name is Enos Spalding. I’m frum Varmount, which, as ye
know, is a good ways frum this place; and it’s a better country than
this land of sand and cactus, ef I do say it.
“Waal, I come down here on a sing’lar mission. I’ve got a niece, Irene
Nelson, that is a master hand at singin’. She kin sing jes as easy as a
bird kin warble, and a good deal sweeter than any bird I ever heerd open
its mouth. She’s been ejicated in singin’ abroad, over in France and
Italy. That was all foolishness, I tole her, and jes a waste o’ money,
fer ef a body is a natural singer there ain’t no sense, as I can see, in
goin’ across the ocean to practice yer voice. We’ve got singin’ teachers
right here in Ameriky. There was Tod Bunnell, used tew come raound to
Spalding’s Corners every winter and give singin’-skewl lessons, and he
could ’a’ teached her jes as well as them teachers over in Paris, what
charged sech all-fired prices fer it. That’s what I tole her, but she
couldn’t see it the same way as I did.
“Waal, when she couldn’t, and was baound and determined to be a singer,
I give her the money, though it did cramp me a putty consid’able tew do
it. I paid her way while she was over there with them high-notion
singin’ teachers.
“I dunno whether she sung any better after that than before, but p’r’aps
she did, fer they tuck her up in them foreign cities, and she begun tew
sing in operys. She sent me clippings aout of the newspapers over there
that told abaout her, but most of it was in sech all-fired queer
langwidges that me ner nobody at Spalding’s Corners could make head ner
tail aout of it. If’t hadn’t been fer her letters explainin’, we
wouldn’t knowed what it was all abaout.
“But there was some English papers, that she sent from London and
Manchester, and other taowns in England, and they did praise her right
up tew the mark, I tell yew. So, I reckoned mebbe I hadn’t been sech a
fool, arter all, when I furnished the money fer her musical ejication.
Though at the time every critter in Spalding’s Corners said that I was
the dummedest fool that ever went on two legs.”
Having lifted the scout to the saddle, the Yankee steadied him until he
could put his feet in the big Mexican stirrups. When mounted, the scout
could ride even when he had not strength to walk.
Spalding tied one of the horses by a lariat to the scout’s saddle and
one to his own, the other he mounted.
“We’ll make fer a notch I seen over there yistidday,” he said. “I don’t
know ef any enemies aire layin’ round er not; but it’s healthier to
think they be, and tew keep aout of the way of ’em. It looks like a sin
tew leave that wounded critter here, but there ain’t no help fer it. I
reckon he’ll pull through somehaow; I’ll hope so. His friends will be
putty cert’in tew see that jacket flappin’ in the wind.”
He started the horses.
“I was tellin’ ye about my niece, but I didn’t git through. Waal, arter
she’d sung in England and in Europe, she went to Australy and sung
there. She sent me some o’ the Melbourne and Sydney papers. Then she sot
aout fer home, comin’ across the Pacific, and stoppin’ at the Sandwich
Islands. She sung in Californy a few times, and then, havin’ promised to
visit with a young woman daown in this section, what was a ranchman’s
daughter, she started aout fer the ranch.
“Ye see, she and this young woman had been in skewl together, when they
was gals. My niece’s friend’s mother married a cattleman, named Fernald,
and moved daown here. And that’s haow ’twas.
“You’ll think I’m a long time gittin’ tew it, but naow comes the
queerest part, and the reason fer my bein’ here. She’s disappeared. I’ve
been to that ranch haouse, and I’ve been everywhere, and I can’t find
hoof ner hair of her, tew show what’s happened.
“Three days ago I struck across in this direction, hossback, intendin’
to hit the trail frum San Paz, some’eres below these maountains. I got
lost. Then my hoss got away. All day yistidday I walked and walked.
Seemed like I’d never git raound these maountain walls. This mornin’ I
come over in this direction, fer I thought I seen a hoss, and it might
be mine, but I didn’t find it.
“Then I seen Mexicans ridin’, and I’d heerd so much abaout road agents,
and Mexicans, and cattle like that, I jes hid in that tree.
“Waal, tew make a long story short, I was in there when them three
fellers brought ye there intendin’ tew hang ye. When I seen that they
meant bisness, I jes had to chip in.
“That’s all, except that I ain’t found ary trace of my niece or Miss
Fernald, and it begins ter look as ef I ain’t goin’ tew. But mebbe I was
sent here tew give yeou that lift. I dunno. Things works queer at times.
Ef this was a lawabidin’ country I allaow I’d be arrested for killin’
that Mexican; but sheriffs to arrest a man aire about as skurse here, I
cal’late, as hen’s teeth. Waal, that’s my story, anyhaow.”
Spalding looked at the scout with inquiring interest.
“I’ll hear yours, when yeou’re better able tew tell it. It’ll keep, I
guess. Ef you can stand faster ridin’ we’ll move the legs of these
hosses a little. The furder I git frum that dead and wownded Mexican the
better I’ll be feelin’.”
They rode on, seeking lower ground, leaving the tree which had witnessed
the tragedy quickly behind.
---------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXVI.
HEMMED IN.
Under the direction of Buffalo Bill, a hiding place was found at length
in a notch of the hills, and in it the scout and the Yankee sought
refuge. Buffalo Bill would not have stopped in the notch but for the
fact of his extreme physical weakness. He needed time in which to
recuperate.
In addition to the wide opening in front, which was screened by scrubby
bushes and tall cactus, there was a narrow pass leading to the rear, and
the sides of the ravine were jagged and notched, so that, if closed in
on from both ends of the ravine, there would still be a good chance to
escape.
Before this two of the horses had been abandoned, on Buffalo Bill’s
advice, as he thought they were likely to be an encumbrance.
The releasing of these horses, really good animals, and their loss with
their accouterments, was a sore grief to the close-fisted Yankee.
“It sorter seems like throwing away money,” he said, as the horses were
left behind, and, with a backward look, he saw them browsing by the
trail. “I was allus taught never to throw anything away, never to let go
of anything that might be used, and never to be wasteful. The one what
does them things, I was allus told, will never git rich. It seems a sin
and shame to let ’em go. They’d fetch good money, if we had ’em at any
market.”
Buffalo Bill smiled at the covetous Yankee’s observation.
“We’ll be better off without them. Yet, if you choose to take them
yourself, and are not going far with me, it’s not my place to object to
your doing what you please with them. But I know that my movements would
be only hampered by them. They’re good horses; but I’m willing that the
Mexicans, to whom they belong, shall have them.”
“Waal, I’ve got a fine critter under me, in place of the one I lost,”
was Spalding’s consoling answer.
When they had stowed themselves securely in their retreat, the Yankee
brought forth the writing in Spanish he had taken from the pocket of one
of the Mexicans, explaining at the same time where he had obtained it.
Buffalo Bill glanced at the paper and his eyes brightened when they took
in the writing, which was as follows:
“The American scout must be killed. It will never do for him
to find Prince Mogador. Do not hesitate to slay him as if he
were but a wolf. Everything depends on it. When you have
succeeded, ride at once to San Paz Hacienda.
“LEON RUIZ.”
The signature of Leon Ruiz was what caught the eye of the scout quite as
much as the nature of the contents. It was the signature attached, also,
to the mysterious note which had been in the handle of the dagger. It
seemed to him that the handwriting was the same, too; but as he had not
possession of the other note he could not be sure of this. He had
replaced that note in the handle of the dagger, and there it had been
when he was shot down and the dagger was taken from him.
Whether the men who now had the dagger knew of that receptacle in the
handle he could not tell, of course. He hoped they did not, and that
knowledge of it would be kept from them.
This new note made him anxious to start on for San Paz Hacienda.
It was the only place which answered to the description given in the
dagger note as that of the prison of the writer, and this second note
hinted that Prince Mogador was held there.
The first note had been written with the end of a bullet or cartridge,
which tended to prove that the writer was a prisoner, not in possession
of pencil or pen, and the material on which it had been written showed
the same thing. The note produced by the Yankee was written on ordinary
paper, with a lead pencil.
“What’s it say?” asked the Yankee. He had doubled his long frame up like
a jackknife, and, with his arms on his sharp knees, he had rested his
chin on them, and was thus looking curiously at the scout. “It looks
like hen tracks tew me.”
Buffalo Bill translated it for him.
“I want tew know!” he exclaimed. “Where is this San Paz Hacienda?”
Buffalo Bill told him.
“I ain’t heerd your story yit, yeou know. You recollect I said I’d wait
till yeou was better able tew tell it. I cal’late it may be
int’restin’.”
“I’m sure I can trust you.”
“Yeou’ll hev to, I guess, ef yeou tell it, though trustin’ is mighty
pore bizness. Trustin’ come nigh to bustin’ me onct, up in Varmount;
trustin’ goods aout of my store, I mean. Ef I had all the money owin’
tew me by the farmers raound Spalding’s Corners I’d be a sight richer’n
I am to-day.”
“I think I can trust you, I’m sure of it. You risked your life to save
mine, and that’s all the credentials I want, to show me that you’re a
man whose heart is in the right place. I’ll tell you my story.”
This Cody did, giving Enos Spalding a clear idea of why he was in that
section, and what he had discovered since coming into it.
“I want tew know!” said Spalding, who throughout the telling had sat
with his mouth dropped open, like the mouth of a fish out of water. “I
reckon that yeou and me aire both on a huntin’ trip daown this way—yeou
huntin’ fur this furrin prince and me huntin’ fur my niece! An’ so yeou
know Miss Fernald, tew! It’s a curious coincidence, I may say, and it
would be funnier than time ef we should find that aour steps p’inted in
the same direction.
“It begins tew look tew me as if there’s a good deal of abductin’ goin’
on daown here. That is, jedgin’ by what you think. You don’t believe
this furrin’ prince is dead, and I ain’t willin’ tew believe that my
niece is dead. Suppose we splice teams and hunt together? I’m not much
good at it myself, but I mightn’t be sech bad shakes, ef I had yeou to
lead. I’d try to do my part.”
His long, lank face looked at the scout solemnly, but in his blue eyes
there was a fire which showed that he had a good deal of courage and
spirit.
“If I could, I should be glad to help you in this matter of your niece,”
said the scout, wondering how Emily Fernald could have met with dangers
and difficulties again, so soon after being taken home by Lieutenant