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25. bearing with them a stretcher for the body.
The baron leaped to his feet and swung his hat to direct them; but
did not call.
“Petter loogk oudt!” he cautioned, as they came near.
“Who was that shootin’?” Nomad demanded. “We heard a rifle off
hyar. Been shootin’ at somebody?”
“Somepoty has peen shoodting at us!” the baron informed him.
“Great gallinipers! Who was et?”
“I vish dot you vouldt toldt me. Der pullet idt seems vos vor Cody;
but it ditn’t git him.”
“Couldn’t er been ther feller thet killed Dane?” said Nomad.
“Ve tond’t know who idt vos.”
The scout arose and greeted the officers and citizens.
“We have found other tracks here,” he said, pointing off to the
right, where the tracks were to be seen.
Nomad and some of the men ran over there.
“Tracks of a woman!” cried the trapper.
“So we thought.”
“Whar’d they come frum?”
“Near the point where the body was buried,” the scout told him.
“And goin’ toward town?”
“Yes.”
“Then thet woman must er been with ther man what downed
Dane.”
“It would seem so. Gentlemen, we can show you where the body
lies now,” said the scout, “if you will follow us.”
“Petter loogk oudt vor der man mit der gun!” the baron warned.
26. But apparently the man with the gun had vanished; for when they
set out for the spot where the body had been left, they did not see
or hear him.
But still another surprise awaited them, as stunning almost as the
first. On reaching the spot where it had been left, the body itself had
disappeared.
“Whar’d yer put et?” Nomad asked, puzzled.
The baron and the scout were staring dumfounded at the place
where the body had last been seen.
“Idt iss gone!” the baron howled. “Yumpin’ yack rappits, idt iss
gone!”
“It’s true, gentlemen,” the scout supplemented; “the body that we
left right here has disappeared.”
The thing was astounding.
“More excitement baron!” Nomad yelped.
“Don’t I knowed idt? I am grazy mit excidemendts.”
“Yer air shore gittin’ good measure, Schnitz!” the trapper
whooped.
He began to look for the trail of the man who must have borne
the body away.
Tracks were found almost immediately—those of a man, whose
shoes cut rather deeply into the ground, and made some impression
even where the soil was hard; showing that he had borne a burden.
There could be not a doubt that the burden was the body of Jackson
Dane.
“Vale, I see some daylighdts,” the baron declared; “der mans vot
haf done dhis iss der same vun vot haf shoodted at Cody; I am
petting on idt.”
“I guess ye’re right, Schnitz,” the trapper agreed. “Now, we’ll see
ef we can foller him.”
27. Buffalo Bill put himself at the head of the excited little party, and
the chase began.
28. CHAPTER VIII.
S T R A N G E D I SA P P E A R A N C E S.
As if he knew he would be followed, the man who had borne off
the body had struck rocky ground soon, so completely breaking his
trail that to pursue it promised to be a work of great difficulty.
Buffalo Bill stopped.
“I don’t think I care to go farther just now,” he said. “Though,
later, I want to come here and cipher this thing out. I’m going back
to Blossom Range.”
“Waugh!” the trapper objected. “What fer? This hyar is ther place
fer work ter be done right now.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Buffalo Bill, thoughtfully; “I’ll leave
you and the baron to claw the tangles out of this thing; and I’ll try to
join you before long. As you go along break a bush now and then,
so that when I return I’ll have no trouble in finding you.”
“But what ye goin’ back fer?” Nomad asked, impatiently.
It seemed to him that to pick up the lost trail was the most
important thing at the moment; at any rate, he could think of
nothing more promising.
Because of the listening ears turned toward him, Buffalo Bill did
not care to acquaint the trapper with the thoughts in his mind.
So he made a lame excuse, about having forgotten something;
and turned about, leaving the trapper and the baron to go on alone;
as all of the town men turned back when Cody did.
“You can dig out that trail, Nomad, if any one on earth can,” he
told the trapper. “So just hang to it, you and the baron—unless he
wants to go back with me! When I return, I shall come with the
29. expectation of finding that you have dug out something worth
while.”
But the baron had no wish to return to Blossom Range at that
time; it was his idea that the blind trail which Nomad was to try to
spell out offered worlds of excitement, of the most surprising kind.
When Buffalo Bill reached Blossom Range, he took the officer and
the coroner aside, after dismissing the other men.
“Perhaps you know all about those men who have been with you,
and that they’re to be trusted,” he explained; “but I don’t know any
of them, and the faces of one or two didn’t strike me favorably.
What I want to do now is to have you go with me to the Casino and
arrest there a woman called Vera Bright; she is with the show
company that has been giving performances in the Casino the past
week. After that, I shall ask you to go with me to Juniper Joe’s and
place Juniper Joe and his wife under arrest.”
The officer and coroner stared at him.
“Not Juniper Joe!” gasped the officer.
“None other. If I am making a mistake, I will stand responsible for
it. The man who was slain out there was the same that Juniper Joe
tried to kill the night of his wedding; and this woman, Vera Bright,
was with the murdered man shortly before daylight this morning, as
I know through the testimony of the German, who was watching the
Casino at that time. He heard them quarreling. In addition, Mrs.
Juniper Joe made that woman a visit yesterday.”
“If you back the thing, I’ll make the arrests,” said the officer, but
reluctantly.
“I will back you!” the scout told him. “Or, if you don’t want to do
it, I will make the arrests myself; yet I should prefer to have you to
do that part of the work.”
He did not think it wise, being still rather hazy about some points
himself, to tell these men all his conclusions; he preferred to let
events speak for themselves.
30. When they got down to the Casino and called for Miss Vera Bright,
they were informed that she was not there; that, in fact, she had left
Blossom Range that morning, on the stage for Calumet Springs.
“Let me see the manager of the show,” Buffalo Bill requested.
The manager came down—a pale, blond, young fellow—and
began to answer Buffalo Bill’s questions.
“I didn’t know she was going,” he declared; “and none of the
company did. The first we knew, she had her things packed, and
asked me for her salary. I wouldn’t pay it, of course, under the
circumstances, as we expect to play here another week, and she
was in the cast. She went away in a huff.”
“How long was she with your company?” was the scout’s next
question.
The manager admitted that he had “picked her up” at Calumet
Springs, when the company was there on its way to Blossom Range.
“She wanted to join us, and I let her do so, as I thought we could
use her,” he explained.
“So you really know nothing about her?”
“Not a thing!”
When Buffalo Bill left the Casino, he sent a telegram to the
marshal of Calumet Wells, requesting him to hold the woman until
certain charges against her could be investigated.
“Now for Juniper Joe’s!” he said to the officer.
When they reached the cabin of Juniper Joe, they had somewhat
the same experience; Juniper Joe was not there, neither was his
wife. The cabin was locked.
The door which the scout had so recently splintered had been
somewhat repaired, and was braced on the inside, as well as locked.
“This is queer!” was the officer’s comment.
“Just a little bit,” the scout agreed.
31. “Shall I break the door in?”
“That is my advice.”
When it was battered in and they entered, they found no one
inside.
A warrant had been secured, authorizing the house and the mine
to be searched. Therefore, the officer forced the door which led to
the mine. The mine looked dark as a cave; so lights were secured,
before they tried to enter it.
They examined the mine back of the cabin, the scout flashing the
light curiously on the walls.
He made no remarks about his discoveries, and his examination
was not a close one; but he commented freely enough on the fact
that the couple must have departed by the front door.
“Yet it seemed to have been barred on the inside!” was the
officer’s objection.
This was overcome, when a closer examination of the door was
made. The bar of wood had been so arranged that it would drop
down on the inside and so hold the door when it was closed from
the outside. Hence the theory that it had been barred from the
inside fell to the ground.
“This may be nothing but a mare’s nest, though,” the officer
suggested; “Juniper Joe and his wife may be both downtown right
now.”
“His wife was supposed to have been too badly hurt to leave the
cabin,” the scout reminded.
“But she may have gone to some doctor’s office!”
Though this was true enough, the scout did not believe it.
After they had made sure that the mine and cabin were
unoccupied, Buffalo Bill asked the men to return to the town and
32. make a search for Juniper Joe and his wife, and to arrest them if
they were found.
As for himself, as soon as the men set out, he turned about and
started off, with the intention of rejoining Nomad and the baron.
“A water haul!” he said to himself, as he walked on swiftly. “But I
think that at last we are making some progress.”
It was the scout’s opinion that the couple and Vera Bright had
hastily left the town.
“Why?” was the question.
It seemed to him there could be but one answer.
33. CHAPTER IX.
T H E C H A S E .
Old Nomad was exclaiming softly in his characteristic way,
standing on the edge of a precipitous cliff wall. The baron, by his
side, had hold of a bush, and was peering over into the depths
below.
“I’m er Piegan,” said Nomad, “ef suthin’ ain’t been throwed down
thar!”
“Aber I gand’t seen noddings, I am pelieving idt iss der pody,” the
baron averred.
Sounds of footsteps attracted their attention.
Then they saw Buffalo Bill hurrying toward them.
He had come rapidly from the town, having followed them without
trouble, because of the broken bushes they had left in their wake to
guide him.
“Waugh!” Nomad called to him, and swung his hand. “Come over
hyar!”
“I’m coming.”
“Ve haf followed der drail to dot boint ofer dhere,” the baron
explained, as the scout came up. “Idt vendt straight on; but Nomat
he seen vot he took to pe dracks goming dhis vay; unt idt loogks as
uff somed’ings had peen pitched town here.”
“We’re believin’ thet ther critter we follered sidetracked carefully to
this point,” added Nomad, “an’ hyar he got rid o’ ther body he war
kerryin’. Et looks et.”
The scout seized a bush, and began to go down the cliff side.
34. “We can soon discover if it is so,” he said.
“Vot dit you findt in der town?” the baron shot at him.
“Vera Bright, Juniper Joe, and his wife are all missing.”
“Waugh!” Nomad whooped. “We’ve been figgerin’ thet we’ve been
follerin’ ther trail o’ Juniper Joe and p’raps his wife. Anyhow, thar’s
big tracks and leetle ones. But we couldn’t make et come out right
thet Juniper Joe an’ his wife had been hyar, when we reckoned they
war back in ther own cabin.”
The scout soon reached the bottom of the cavity, which was bush-
grown along its sides. He called up his discovery.
“Your guess was right,” he said. “Here is the body.”
It had been pitched far enough out, so that in its fall it did not
break bushes; and it lay in a crumpled heap.
The scout only tarried long enough to be sure that it was the body
of the man known to him as Jackson Dane; then he came climbing
up out of the black depths.
“Yes,” he added, “whoever had the body threw it over here, to get
rid of it; and took it from that other place so that it might not be
found by the searchers.”
“Why sh’d he wanted ter do thet?” Nomad queried.
“I can only guess, of course; though he ought to have known that
it had already been seen. In law, you know, the body must be
produced, or identified, in order to convict any one of murder;
otherwise, there could be no showing absolutely that the man
supposed to be murdered was dead. He might be living, somewhere
in secret. But it was a foolish move, in this case, to try to hide it
here, it seems to me; as the body had already been seen.”
“Aber the man vot dook it mighdtn’t haf knowed dot,” suggested
the German.
“Very true.”
35. “But about thet woman and Juniper Joe cuttin’ out?” said Nomad.
“You air shore of thet?”
“I went with the officer to the Casino, to arrest the woman, but
she had left by the morning stage for Calumet Springs. I sent a
telegram to the marshal there; and if he does his duty, it will stop
her at that point. When we went to Juniper’s cabin, we found it
empty and dark. On forcing the door, we found no one, even though
we searched the cabin and the mine. Of course, if you have been
following their trail, it shows plainly enough where they are now.”
“What’s yer idee?” the trapper questioned.
“Simply that they came out and killed Dane. Perhaps they started
back to the town; then saw us, and that changed their plans. Some
one shot at me, you know; and probably that was Juniper Joe.”
“Then you’ve reached ther conclusion thet he is plum crooked?”
“I have.”
“And his wife, too?”
“Doesn’t it look it?”
“Waugh! Et does.”
“We’ll pick up their trail over there, and see if we can’t crowd ’em.
Did it seem fresh?”
“Not so very old, anyway,” Nomad told him.
“You didn’t see any indication that buckskin bags had been
cached, or pitched into some hole?”
“No; but they could er been pitched inter some hole easy ’nuff,
without our knowin’ it. Thar’s a lot o’ crevices along the trail; an’
without leavin’ his tracks a feller could easy ernough heave buckskin
bags inter any of ’em.”
“We haven’t time to look that up, now. Show me the trail, and
we’ll see what we can do.”
36. When the trail was regained, the scout took the lead, and pushed
the work hard.
Though the country was rocky and covered with much scrub, they
went along rapidly. There were few trailers who could equal Buffalo
Bill. It was hard work, so that often he preferred to let his Indians do
it; but he was always equal to the task, as in this instance.
There were tracks of two people—one the track of a man surely;
the other smaller, which might have been made by a woman;
though, if so, she had worn a coarse and heavy shoe, just fitted for
that kind of work.
At length the trails split; the larger tracks going off to the right,
the others to the left.
“I’ll follow the man,” said the scout; “you take the other. I fancy
the man is Juniper Joe; the other may be his wife.”
It had become evident that the couple were getting tired; they
had traveled rapidly, as if at first frightened, and so had begun to
use up their strength. It was perhaps for that reason they separated;
as they might have thought the pursuers, if they knew of them,
would follow the larger tracks.
By this time Buffalo Bill and his pards were a good five miles north
of the mining town of Blossom Range, and in the vicinity of a village
of the Ute tribe of Indians.
The Utes were supposed to be peaceably inclined. At any rate,
they had shown no hostile intentions since Iron Bow had led them
on the warpath, five years before, and had been badly worsted. But
they were still blanket Indians, much given to powwowing and
strange dances, to feathered headdresses and variegated paints.
For some time Buffalo Bill had been half convinced that the tracks
he and his pards had followed would lead, by and by, to this Ute
village.
Yet, when the tracks separated, this did not seem so likely.
37. Buffalo Bill, pressing ahead on the trail he had chosen, soon lost
sight of Nomad and the baron.
He had gone nearly a mile, through a very rough country, when he
became aware of the fact that the Indians were near him; he saw a
few, and heard others. They had apparently been deer hunting.
Their tracks, here and there, covered over those he was pursuing; so
that twice he had to stop and spend valuable time in puzzling out
the trail.
“If this fellow is a friend of the Utes, it’s likely he will join the deer
hunters,” thought the scout.
A little later a shot rang out.
Thereupon, a man sprang out of bushes a hundred yards away,
leaping up as if he thought the bullet had been sent at him, and ran
with big jumps across the rocks, through the rough ground.
At a glance, Buffalo Bill saw that the man was Juniper Joe.
“Our guess is right, so far,” he muttered.
The man disappeared quickly; but Buffalo Bill was in hot chase,
determined not to lose sight of him.
He was wondering, at the same time, if the Indians had shot at
this man. Apparently, the fellow had thought so; for it seemed that
he had leaped up and ran from the Indians, rather than from the
scout, whom, apparently, he had not yet seen.
Off at one side Indian yells broke out; but they were not war-trail
yells; they were hunting yells, announcing victory.
“The Utes fired at game, and brought it down,” was the scout’s
conclusion. “I am sure now they did not shoot at Juniper Joe.”
Then he came again in sight of the man, who had gained a
slippery slope, which he was trying to climb, though, at some points,
to do it he would have needed the ability of a fly.
38. Buffalo Bill could see that Juniper Joe was a badly frightened
individual. It seemed to the scout he was frightened by the Indian
yelling, following the shot; that, in short, Juniper Joe was sure the
Indians had fired at him and were now pursuing him.
Climbing over slippery rocks, Juniper Joe gained the treacherous
edge of a cañon, along which he ran at reckless speed.
The scout called to him.
The effect was bad. Juniper Joe tried to stop and look about; as
he did so, stumbling, so that he was thrown heavily. The next instant
he was bounding off the edge of the precipice, and went shooting
down.
The scout stopped with a gasp of surprise.
He saw Juniper Joe crash into the top of a pine, out of which he
tumbled, to land in a cleft of rock in the face of the cañon.
Apparently, in his wild haste and fright, Juniper Joe had been
seriously, perhaps fatally, wounded; he lay prostrate where he had
fallen, without motion at first. But a moment later Buffalo Bill saw
him put up his hand.
“Not dead yet, at any rate!” said the scout, looking about, with the
desire of hurrying to the man’s assistance.
Fortunately, in leaving Blossom Range the scout had not only fully
armed himself, but had brought along his lariat, which he had often
found more useful than any weapon.
Juniper Joe’s red shirt showed plainly in the niche, looking like a
gout of blood, thus making it very suggestive. Buffalo Bill had been
somewhat surprised to see Juniper Joe in full miner’s outfit, very
different from the clothing he usually wore in the town.
For some time nothing had been heard from the Indians; but now
the scout saw some of them on the top of the cañon wall, looking
down at the injured man. Others appeared in sight at various points.
39. Buffalo Bill paid no attention to the Utes, though they did not
seem friendly. They showed no disposition to help the injured man.
In truth, even to consider such a thing seriously was an evidence of
much courage; for Juniper Joe lay in a spot not to be approached at
all without much danger.
The scout was not thinking of the possible danger, as he hastened
along, looking for a point at which he could launch his lariat; his
intention being, if he could find such a place, to hurl the rope at it,
then swing out and over the cañon.
The cañon was of such depth that even to look down into it made
one’s head swim.
In spite of this, when he had found a favorable finger of rock
outthrust the scout swung the noose of his rope, and with a
wonderful cast fastened it round the tip of the rocky projection on
the other side.
“Here goes!” he said.
Clutching the rope, he ran forward, then flung himself boldly out
over the black gulf. The momentum carried him across, so that his
feet struck the opposite wall. As soon as he could steady the
oscillation of the rope, he began to climb it, hand over hand.
Though they had shown some evidences of an unfriendly attitude,
Buffalo Bill’s daring in going to the aid of Juniper Joe stilled the
Indians into peace.
Slowly the scout climbed up the rope, over the dizzy chasm,
mounting steadily until he gained the spot where Juniper Joe lay.
Then he saw that Juniper Joe was not only not dead, but
treacherously inclined; the fellow’s eyes were blazing, and as Buffalo
Bill swung into the notch at his side, Juniper Joe lifted himself and
drove at the scout with a knife.
Though the surprise was stupendous, the scout was equal to the
occasion; he dropped down on the treacherous scoundrel, and
gripped him.
40. A struggle followed; but Juniper Joe had not recovered from the
jarring effects of his fall, and the scout was quickly the victor.
Juniper Joe dropped back, panting and glaring.
“Curse you!” he fumed.
The scout had caught the fellow’s knife away, and now snatched
away his revolvers.
“A pretty greeting for a man who risked his life to come up here!”
he said bitterly.
“That’s all right!” growled Juniper Joe. “But what did ye come up
for? Me, I reckon! You didn’t come jest to help me, I know.”
Then he realized that he had said too much.
“I’m kind o’ flighty,” he apologized; “so don’t think o’ what I’ve
done. I didn’t really know it was you, Cody; ’pon honor, I didn’t. That
jolt I got sort o’ put me out o’ my head. Hope you’ll overlook it.”
He rolled his eyes round, as if looking for the Indians.
“Those Utes won’t trouble you!”
“Mebby they won’t,” Juniper Joe grumbled; “but I ain’t wantin’ to
chance it. Ye see, I onct had trouble with old Iron Bow.”
“You thought they shot at you and chased you?”
“I did.”
“Rest easy, then. They shot at a deer, or some game animal.”
“How do you know it?”
“I could tell by the way they yelled.”
“You’re thunderin’ smart, you think!”
Unnoting this insult, the scout tried to make an examination, to
discover if Juniper Joe was much hurt.
“It’s jest my leg and right hip,” said the rascal; “feels like my leg is
broke.”
41. “You couldn’t move it, if that was so.”
The fellow had been bruised by his heavy fall, and the breath had
been jarred out of him, yet he was not hurt, otherwise.
“Oh, I think you’re all right!” the scout told him.
“What you goin’ to do?”
“Try to get you down from here.”
“I’m surprised to see you hyar,” said Juniper Joe, more mildly. “I
don’t reckon you come out to see if Iron Bow is thinkin’ of war
trailin’?”
“We’ll talk about that when we get you down from here,” the scout
evaded.
Just then a whoop sounded; and, looking up, Buffalo Bill saw that
the baron and Nomad had come in sight.
He stood up and waved his hand to them, that they might locate
him; but at the same time he was careful not to give Juniper Joe a
chance to push him out of the notch into the cañon. He was
convinced that Juniper Joe might want to do that very thing.
“Who’s them?” asked Juniper Joe.
“My friends—the baron and old Nomad.”
Juniper Joe growled something in his throat.
“What was that?” the scout asked.
“Oh, nothin’! Lower me down, if you kin.”
“It’s going to be a hard job; you’re a heavy man.”
“Waal, then let me stay hyar!” the fellow growled.
The scout put the noose of the rope round Juniper Joe’s body,
under the arms.
“I’ll try it,” he said, “if you’ve got the grit!”
Juniper Joe looked over the edge, and shivered.
42. “If anything should happen, I reckon I’d fetch up dead on them
rocks down there.”
“I can get a pretty good grip, by locking a leg round this point of
rock, and I think I can hold you; but the rope is strong enough to
hold you, even if I should slip.”
“It’d cut me in two, if you should let go.”
“I suppose you’re willing for me to try it?”
The fellow looked over again.
“Go ahead!” he said, setting his jaws together. “I’ve got to git
down out of this in some way.”
Helping himself, Juniper Joe slid over the edge of the notch, aided
by the scout, the latter supporting him as he released his grip on the
rock and dangled in midair.
It was a fine exhibition of muscular strength, when Buffalo Bill
lowered the heavy body of Juniper Joe slowly down from the notch,
letting it slide against the cañon wall.
There was a shelf below; and when Juniper Joe had gained that
the scout directed him to cast off the noose.
“I’m coming down,” he announced. “But,” he warned, “no tricks!
My pards are over there, you see; and they wouldn’t stand for
treachery on your part.”
“Oh, I ain’t intendin’ any,” Juniper Joe growled back.
The scout swung out and lowered himself to the shelf.
The rope was left hanging, of course, with the noose hooked over
the finger of rock. But the scout was a rope wizard. By some clever
jerks, which made wavy ripples run up the rope, he flipped it off the
rocky point, and it dropped down.
He found another projection, to which he fastened the noose; and
the performance was gone through again, this time bringing the
scout and his prisoner to the bottom of the cañon.
43. When they got down there they found the baron and Nomad.
44. CHAPTER X.
S TA RT L I N G R E V E LAT I O N S.
If the Utes remained in the vicinity, they kept out of sight and
were not seen again.
Old Nomad and the baron had heard the shot of the Indians; but,
thinking it had come from the rifle of Buffalo Bill, they had
abandoned the trail they were following, and came over to see if the
scout was in trouble.
“We allowed you was,” explained old Nomad, “er you wouldn’t
opened up in thet way. Glad ter know it was a false alarm.”
Juniper Joe, standing up, with the noose of the lariat removed,
was walking about, apparently testing his strength; suddenly he
started off at a clipping gait, showing how little he had been hurt by
his fall.
The baron and Nomad yelled when they saw him start.
Buffalo Bill, instead of yelling, plucked out a revolver, swung it
round his head, and hurled it at the fleeing man.
It struck him in the back of the neck and knocked him sprawling.
Though he fell heavily, and was somewhat stunned, Juniper Joe
still had full use of his tongue, as his raving showed when they ran
up to him. He demanded the reason for such treatment.
“Well, we’re going to hold you, you know!” Buffalo Bill told him.
Juniper Joe tried to pretend surprise.
“What fer?” he howled.
“For the murder of Jackson Dane—if that was his name.”
45. Juniper Joe declared that he did not know what they were talking
about.
“You tried to kill him once, at the time of your wedding, when you
claimed he was Tim Benson, the road agent.”
“Waal, that feller was Tim Benson; but I ain’t seen him since.”
“As we think you know all about it, and for other reasons, we’re
now going to take you back to Blossom Range,” Buffalo Bill told him.
Juniper Joe protested against this loudly.
“Perhaps you will tell us who, then, was with you?”
Juniper Joe denied that any one had been with him.
“Waugh! We won’t fool wi’ no sech liar,” Nomad whooped. “You’ve
showed thet ye kin walk—you done some runnin’ a while ago; so
we’re goin’ to tie ye and march ye ahead of us, wi’ the understandin’
ef yer don’t go peaceable you’ll go some other way.”
When he saw that neither lying nor anything else would do him
any good, Juniper Joe submitted, but with bad grace; after which he
became sullen, refusing to answer questions.
On the return to the town, as they were able to pick an easier trail
than they had followed in getting there, the scout’s party made
better progress. They did not stop to follow the trail of the supposed
woman; but Nomad was detached to see what he could do with it,
under instructions not to waste too much time, but to report in the
town by nightfall. The baron’s head still troubling him, he went along
with Buffalo Bill.
When Buffalo Bill entered Blossom Range with his prisoner, the
afternoon stage was coming in from Calumet Springs. So he took his
prisoner right down to the stage stables, though Juniper Joe
protested against this outrage.
One of the passengers by the stage was the marshal of Calumet
Springs, who had with him a woman, Miss Vera Bright, whom he had
brought back to Blossom Range.
46. She stared at Buffalo Bill’s prisoner.
“I think it will be well if we take them into a room here together,
and see if they won’t do some talking,” was the scout’s statement to
the Calumet Springs marshal.
“If you can get anything out of her, you’re ahead of me,” the
marshal admitted; “she fit like a wildcat, when I told her she would
have to come back here, and only stopped it when I threatened I’d
put irons on her. She weakened at that, and come along; but she’s a
plum furious beauty, I tell you, git her started.”
The blonde woman and Juniper Joe were taken into a back room
of the stage office, where they were brought face to face. In the
room at the time was the marshal of Calumet Springs, with Nomad
and the baron, and, of course, the scout, together with the local
manager of the stage line.
Buffalo Bill, a shrewd reader of human nature, opened the ball by
telling the woman that Juniper Joe was under arrest for the murder
of the man called Jackson Dane, but whom Joe had said was Tim
Benson.
Her face paled at that, and her eyes flashed, and she turned on
the prisoner like a tigress.
“Is that so?” she cried.
“It’s a lie!” Juniper Joe declared to her.
She turned to Buffalo Bill.
“Is it true,” she said, “that he has killed him?”
“Dane has been killed, and we believe this man did it; we have
evidence which it seems to us proves it.”
“I’m sure he did—if he is dead.”
She bent her burning eyes on Juniper Joe; and he seemed to
wither under them.
“Where is Tim?” she demanded.
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