Wild Bill's Last Trail Part 15

The Indians would have been upon them before night set in, had they not first discovered the nature of the dust cloud to the south-west, or rather who it was raised by. The field-gla.s.s of the Texan, even miles and miles away, had detected the flutter of cavalry guidons amid the dust, and showed that mounted troops were near enough to come to the aid of the Black Hill men before they could be crushed and their scalps taken.

So, much against his will, Persimmon Bill was obliged to slacken his pace, and soon to turn his course, so, as by a night march, to put his warriors beyond the reach of those who might turn on them.

When night fell, Chichester, joined by two companies of cavalry, bound for the Hills, under orders to join forces already on the way by another route, moved slowly to a camping-ground in the timber, for which he had been heading hours back.

The horses of the troops were weak from scant forage, and the commanding officer did not feel it his duty to wear them out chasing Indians, though he held himself ready to protect the mining party as long as they remained with him.

And they were just too willing to go on with such an escort, even with the loss of all the pack animals left on their trail; and had Persimmon Bill only halted, instead of falling back, he would have found that there was no danger of pursuit.

Chichester and Crawford, when they compared notes, and found not a man of their party lost, though half its property was gone, felt satisfied that it was no worse, for at one time it seemed to both that nothing was left to them but to sell their lives as dearly as they could.

In a well-guarded camp all were settled before the moon rose, and never was rest more needed by animals and men.

CHAPTER XVIII.

ON THE DEATH-TRAIL.

Bivouacked on the treeless plain, so far from the old trail and from the timber ahead that they could see no sign of the Black Hillers or the troops, the next morning's sun rose on the band of Sioux led by Persimmon Bill. Used to all kinds of exigencies, the red men did not mind either a lack of food or of water for so short a time. They were only angered with the thought that those whom they had deemed an easy prey had escaped them.

As soon as it was light, Persimmon Bill had the captured pack-horses examined, and it was found that several of them were laden with provisions. Others had ammunition and stores, and on some of them were found kegs of liquor.

These the wary leader at once destroyed, telling his followers that there was no foe so deadly to the red man as this fire-water and not one drop should pa.s.s his lips or theirs. The provisions were at once distributed among them, as also the stores, but the liquor was given to the thirsty sands, where at least it could do no harm.

Then a council was held by the leader with the chiefs and head warriors of the band, and it was decided that it would be foolish to pursue the Black Hill people farther, now that troops were with them, unless a large band of Sioux could be found. For it is not Indian policy to risk battle against odds, or where there is danger of great loss and little gain. To reach water and good hunting-grounds was their first necessity; after that they could consider where next to go. Sitting Bull was rallying all the tribes for war, and the "White Elk" had promised to join him.

Gloomily the young Texan heard all this talk, and at its close, when a decision had been arrived at, he said:

"Here we must part. I follow the trail of Wild Bill, if I follow it alone. I had hoped to see him die a slow and cruel death, where I could have heard him plead, and plead in vain for mercy. But that hope is gone, if he reaches the Hills in safety. But he cannot live--he shall not! I have sworn to kill him, and I will! The spirit of him who fell at Abilene cries up from a b.l.o.o.d.y grave for vengeance, and the cry shall be answered. You have been kind to me Addie Neidic, and so has he to whom your heart is given. I shall never forget it. But our courses now lie apart--I follow yonder trail, while you go I know not where. We may not meet again--if we do, I shall tell you Wild Bill is dead!"

"Stay with us. I will yet help you to your vengeance," said Persimmon Bill.

"No; it will be too long delayed. I am hot on the death-trail now, and I will not leave it. Fear not for me. I shall hover near them till they reach the Hills, and then I will not wait long to fulfill my work. When the deed is done, if I still think life is precious, and his friends press me too hard, I may look for safety, as you have done, with the Sioux."

"Come and you shall find in me a sister, and in him a brother," cried Addie Neidic.

"_A brother?_ I had one once," came in a low, sobbing cry from the young Texan's lips; then, with his head bowed, and scalding tears rolling down his cheeks, he drove the spurs into his horse, and sped away swiftly in the direction of the old trail.

The Black Hawk horse, saddled and bridled, but riderless, galloped on by the side of the Texan's fleet mustang, with no wish to part from his company.

"He had death in his eye! He will kill Wild Bill, and we shall never see him again," said Persimmon Bill. "The miners are rough, and condemn before they try, and hang as soon as condemnation is spoken. I pity the boy--for he is but a boy."

Addie Neidic smiled.

"We shall see your boy again," she said, "Something seems to whisper to me that his fate is in some way linked with ours. I, too, feel sure that he will kill Wild Bill, and then escape to join us. And you, my hero, will rise till all these Indian nations call you king. How these who follow you look up to you now, obeying every word or sign. And think, on these vast plains, and in the endless range of hills, valleys, and mountains, there must be countless thousands, who want but a daring, skillful leader to make them the best light troops in the world."

"You are ambitions for me, dearest," said Bill, with a strange, sad smile. "I hope to prove worthy of your aspirations. But we must move. I head now for the Big Horn Valley, to meet Sitting Bull."

CHAPTER XIX.

"SAVE, OH, SAVE MY HUSBAND!"

"Safe and in port at last, as old Cale Durg used to say, when a scout was over and he was back in garrison."

This was the joyous exclamation of Captain Jack Crawford, as he turned to Sam Chichester when their party rode into the settlement at the Deadwood Mines in the Black Hills. Escorted nearly all the way by the cavalry they had so providentially met, they had been troubled no more by the Indians, and excepting the loss of some horses, and part of their "fit-out" and stores, had suffered nothing. Not a man had been hurt, and best of all, they came in sober, for the benzine had all gone with the lost packs, for it was heaviest on the mules, as it would have been on the men, had it not been host.

"I'm glad the trip is over. My temper never has been more tried," said Chichester. "The most of the men have had their own way, though when we started they promised on honor to obey me as captain. But honor is a scarce article with the majority of them. Now they're here, they'll go it with a looseness."

"You bet," was Crawford's sententious remark. "Wild Bill will be in his element. Look at the signs. Rum, faro, monte, all have a swing here, you can swear."

"Men, into line one minute, and then we part!" shouted Captain Chichester to his party.

For a wonder, with temptation on every side, the weary riders obeyed, and drew up in a straggling line to hear their leader's parting speech.

"Men, I promised to bring you here safely if I could, but to get all of you here that I could, any way. I've kept my promise we're here."

"Ay! Three cheers for Sam Chichester!" shouted Wild Bill.

The cheers were given, and Chichester said:

"Thank you, boys. Now do me one favor. You are here in a busy place, and I see by the sign that benzine is about as plenty as water. Touch it light, and do behave, yourselves, that my name will not be disgraced by any of Sam Chichester's crowd. Every man is his own master now, and must look out for himself. I wish you all good luck, and shall work hard for it myself."

The speech was over, and in a second the line melted away and every man was seeking quarters or pitching into the benzine shops.

Wild Bill would have been the first to go there, had not his companion, Willie Pond, said, in a low tone:

"Bill, please get quarters for you and me before you do anything else.

You know what you have promised. Remember, if it had not been for me, neither you nor one of this party would ever have got here."

"You're right. But I'm so cussed dry!" muttered Bill. "You're right, I'll find housing for us two before a drop pa.s.ses my lips."

And Bill rode on to the upper part of the town, as it might be called, where some men were putting up a new shanty, in fact, just putting the finishing touch on it by hanging a door.

"Will you sell that shebang?" asked Bill, of the man who seemed to be the head workman.

"Yes, if we get enough. We can build another. What will you give?"

"These two horses, and a century," said Bill, pointing to the animals ridden by himself and companion, and holding up a hundred-dollar bill which Pond had furnished him.

"O. K. The house is yours!" said the man. "Boys, put for timber, and we'll have another up by sunset."

Bill and his companion dismounted, removed their blankets, arms, and saddle-bags into the house, gave up the horses and were at home. It did not take long to settle there.

Night had fallen on the town of Deadwood, but not the calm which generally comes with night where the laborer is but too glad to greet the hour of rest. Lights flashing through c.h.i.n.ks in rude cabins, lights shimmering through canvas walls, songs, shouts, laughter, curses, and drunken yells made the place seem like a pandemonium on earth.

Almost every other structure, either tent, cabin, or more pretentious framed house, was either a saloon or gambling-h.e.l.l, or both combined.

And all these seemed full. The gulches, sinks, and claims that had been the scene of busy labor all the day were now deserted, and the gold just wrenched from the bowels of the earth was scattered on the gambling table, or poured into the drawer of the busy rumseller.