"'Now, look a here, Black Bill,' said I, 'I haint never been in the habit of standin' much nonsense, neither--leastways not from such fellers as you, an' if you knowed me, you would know that I don't skeer wuth a charge of gunpowder. That 'ar is the way to the camp, an' if you want to live two minutes longer, you'll travel off to onct.' Seein' that he didn't start, but that he stood eyein' me as if he'd a good mind to walk into me, I stepped back, an' p'intin' my rifle straight at his heart, said: 'I shan't tell you more'n onct more that 'ar is the way to camp. You can go thar, or you can stay here fur the wolves, jest as you please.'
"I guess he seed that I war in 'arnest, fur he shouldered his empty rifle, an' started through the woods, I follerin' close behind, ready to drop him if he should run or show fight. I felt mighty on-easy while travelin' through that timber, 'cause I knowed well enough that the rascal had friends, an' if one of 'em should happen to see me marchin' Black Bill off that 'ar way, he'd drop me, sartin. But I reached the camp in safety, an' thar I found two of our own fellers, an' four that I had allers thought war friends of Black Bill. They all jumped up as we came in, fur they knowed by the way I looked that somethin' war wrong, an' one of 'em said:
"'What's Bosh Peters been a doin', Bob?'
"'That aint no Bosh Peters,' said I; 'that 'ar chap is Black Bill.'
"Now comes the funniest part of the hul bisness. Every trapper on the prairy, as I told you, had heered of Black Bill, an' when I told 'em that my prisoner war the very chap, an' that he had been layin' a plan to rob the cap'n, I never seed sich a mad set of men in my life.
"They all sot up a yell, an' one of 'em, that I would have swore war a friend of Black Bill, drawed his knife, an' made at the varlet as if he war goin' to rub him out to onct. But my chum, Ned Roberts, ketched him, and tuk the we'pon away from him. This sot the feller to bilin', and he rushed round the camp wusser nor a crazy man. He said that Black Bill had shot his chum, an' that he war swore to kill him wherever he found him; and he war goin' to do it, too. An' the fust thing we knowed, he grabbed somebody's rifle, an' jumped back to shoot the pris'ner. But he war ketched ag'in, afore he could fire, and then he howled wusser nor ever. Wal, we tied Black Bill to a tree in the camp, an' this feller kept slippin' round, with his tomahawk in his hand, an' it tuk two men to get the we'pon away from him.
"The chap tuk on so, that we all thought that he told the truth, but, (would you believe it?) I arterwards larnt that he war the very same chap that I had heered talkin' with Black Bill 'bout robbin' the cap'n. He kind o' thought that we might know something ag'in him, an'
he carried on in that way to make us b'lieve that he war really an enemy of Black Bill. In course we didn't know this at the time. If we had, he'd soon been a pris'ner too. But, supposin' him to be tellin'
the gospel truth, we felt sorry fur him, an' promised that Black Bill shouldn't ever be let loose to do meanness ag'in. While the fuss war goin on, the trader come out; an' when we told him what happened--how the pris'ner an' one of his friends, that we didn't know, had been layin' a plan to do robbery an' killin'; an' that the chap he called Bosh Peters war none other than Black Bill the outlaw--I never seed a man so tuk back in my life. It skeered him purty bad. He had allers looked upon Black Bill as one of the honestest men in the expedition; an', when he found that he war a traitor, he didn't know who to trust; an' he tuk mighty good keer not to be alone durin' the rest of the arternoon.
"Wal, when it growed dark, the fellers began to come in from their day's work, some loaded with furs, an' others with a piece of bar or big-horn, which they had knocked over for supper. As fast as they come in, we told 'em what war up, an' they didn't take it very easy, now, I tell you.
"The idee that Black Bill, arter doin' so much badness--robbin' lone trappers an' leadin' wild Injuns ag'in wagon trains--should come into one of our forts, an' stick his name down with those of honest, hard-workin' trappers, when he knowed that every one of 'em had plenty ag'in him, I say it war hard to b'lieve. But thar he war, tied to a tree, an', when the boys come to look at him close, they wondered that they hadn't knowed afore that he war a villain.
"Wal, we waited a long time for all of our fellers to come in; but thar war three of us missin', an' that war the only thing that saved Black Bill. We didn't want to pass sentence on him without lettin' all the boys have a chance to say somethin'; an' as they might come in some time durin' the night, we thought we would keep the varlet till morning. So we tied him, hand an' foot, and laid him away in one of the cabins. The cap'n's darkey made him a bed of hemlock boughs, an'
laid him on it, abusin' him all the while like all natur', an' goin'
in for shootin' him to onct. It would have been well for one of us, if we had put that darkey in there as a pris'ner too. But we didn't know it, an' afore we got through he cost us the life of one of the best men in our comp'ny. The fellers then all went to bed except me. I guarded the varlet till the moon went down, and then, arter calling my chum, who war to watch him till daylight, I went into my quarters an'
slept soundly all the rest of the night. When it come mornin', I awoke, an', in a few minits, all our boys war up. The fellers had all come in durin' the night, an' ole Jim Roberts--my chum's ole man--who war our leader, called a council. Black Bill didn't seem to have a friend among us, for the last man of us said as how the law must be lived up to.
"'Who guarded him last night?' asked the ole man.
"'I did,' I answered, 'till the moon went down, and then Ned tuk my place.'
"'Wal, Ned, bring out the pris'ner,' said the ole man. 'But whar is Ned?' he asked, runnin' his eye over the camp. 'Ned! Ned Roberts!'
"I had all along s'posed that Ned war still guardin' the pris'ner; but when he didn't answer, I knowed in a minit that somethin' had been goin' wrong ag'in, an' the others knowed it too, fur men who have lived in danger all their lives aint long in seein' through a thing of that kind. So we all rushed to the cabin where we had left the outlaw, an' there lay my chum--stark an' dead--stabbed to the heart! The pris'ner war gone. Thar war the strips of hickory bark we had tied him with, an' thar war the knife he had used--but Black Bill had tuk himself safe off. We stood thar, not knowin' what to say or do. Ole Jim war the fust that could speak.
"'Another gone,' said he; 'an' it's my only son; an' now whar's the traitor?'
"He looked from one to the other of us as he said this, but no one answered.
"'He's here right among you,' said the ole man, the tears rollin' down his cheeks. 'He's right among you. That knife couldn't got in here without hands; an' thar's somebody in this yere camp, that's helped Black Bill in makin' his escape. Speak, men, who's the outlaw's friend?'
"But still no one answered. We all knowed he war thar, but how could we tell who it war, when we had no proff ag'in any one?
"'Bring him out, boys,' said the old man, at last. 'He war a kind son, an' a good trapper. But he's done his work now, an' we've lost one of the best men in our comp'ny.'
"Wal, we carried poor Ned out, an' arter layin' him in my cabin, we started off on the trail of the outlaw. But he had a good long start, an' that night we had to come back without him. I've never seen him from that day to this.
"The next mornin' none of us went out to trap, fur we couldn't help thinkin' of poor Ned. He war the fust chum I had ever had, an' me an'
him had been together a'most ever since we had strength to shoulder a rifle--more'n ten year--an', in course, I war in natur' bound to avenge him. I staid in my quarters, wonderin' who it war that had helped the outlaw; when, all of a sudden, I happened to think of somethin' that brought me to my feet in a hurry, an' sent me into ole Jim's quarters. I talked the matter over with him, told him what I thought, an', in a few minits more, we called our boys together, an'
war marchin' t'wards the trader's camp. The darkey war cookin' his master's breakfast, in front of the cabin, singin' an' whistlin' as jolly as could be; but when he seed us a comin' he shet up in a mighty hurry, an' actooally turned white! I knowed he wouldn't act that ar' way if he warn't guilty, so I sung out, 'Here's the traitor, boys!'
"The darkey, seein' that the thing war out, started to run. He hadn't gone far, howsomever, afore we had him, an' then he 'fessed the hul bisness. He said he had told the outlaw that the cap'n war goin' to take his money-bags with him, an' that, bein' the last to leave Black Bill arter we had tied him, he had hid the knife in his bed. The pris'ner's arms had been fastened above his elbows, an', in course, havin' a sharp we'pon, it war the easiest thing in the world to cut himself loose, an' to pitch into poor Ned afore he knowed it. Arter he had 'fessed this, we held a council, an' prairy law tuk its course.
This skeered the trader wusser nor ever. If his own servant war treacherous, he couldn't trust nobody. So he ordered us to break up our camp an' strike fur the fort. When we got thar, an' offered to give up our hosses an' we'pons, he wouldn't listen to it at all. He said that we had saved him an' his money-bags, an' that we could keep our kit, an' welcome.
"Wal, our huntin' expedition bein' broke up, we put out on our own hook. We still thought that them four fellers b'longed to Black Bill's party, an' we soon found that it war so; fur we had hardly got out of sight, afore they started fur the mountains. They knowed 'bout whar to go to find the outlaw, an' they've been with him ever since, robbin'
an' stealin'. One of his party has been rubbed out, but thar ar' four of them left yet, an' they do a heap of mischief. I have looked an'
watched fur 'em fur years, an' if I never find 'em, I shall leave 'em to Dick; so I know justice will be done 'em. If you had knowed all these things, youngster, I don't reckon you would have slept very sound in Black Bill's camp."
CHAPTER XVI.
The King of the Drove.
The travelers had been intensely interested in the old trapper's story, and not even the thought that the danger was passed, and that Frank was safe in camp again, could altogether quiet their feelings.
Frank was more astonished than ever, and he secretly determined that he would never again lose sight of the wagon, if he could avoid it.
But, if he should again be compelled to take an involuntary ride, and should happen to fall in with strangers on the prairie, he would give them a wide berth.
Mr. Winters said nothing. He did not think that the occasion demanded that he should caution his nephew, for it was by no means probable that the latter would soon forget his night in the outlaw's camp.
His adventures, which were the subject of a lengthy conversation, did not, however, entirely quench his love of excitement, and when, after a hearty dinner on buffalo hump, Archie proposed a short ride on the prairie, he agreed to accompany him, and, as soon as he had caught and saddled his uncle's horse, was ready for the start. As they rode along out of the woods, Archie informed his cousin that another herd of buffaloes had been seen that morning by old Bob, feeding near the base of the mountains, and announced his determination of endeavoring to shoot one, if they should happen to come across them. As there was now no danger of being stampeded--both of their horses being old buffalo hunters--Frank agreed to the proposal, and followed his cousin, who led the way toward the place where the buffaloes had last been seen.
Swell after swell they mounted, straining their eyes in every direction, without discovering the wished-for game.
But they saw something else that excited them quite as much as the sight of a herd of buffaloes would have done; for, as Archie, who had ridden some distance in advance of his cousin, reached the top of one of the hills, Frank saw him suddenly draw rein, and back his horse down the swell, out of sight of something which he had discovered on the other side. He then rode back to meet Frank, and, as soon as he came within speaking distance, whispered, excitedly:
"There's a big drove of wild horses out there."
Frank waited to hear no more, but, throwing his bridle to his cousin, dismounted from his horse, and, going cautiously to the top of the swell, looked over. Sure enough, there they were, about half a mile distant, probably five hundred of them, scattered about over the prairie, some feeding, and others prancing about, as if wholly unconscious of danger. Among them was one horse--an iron-gray--rendered conspicuous by his great size and extraordinary beauty, which galloped about as if he were "monarch of all he surveyed." Frank remembered what Dick had told him about every drove of wild horses having a "master," and, as he watched his movements, and noticed how the other horses shied at his approach, he came to the conclusion that the gray horse was the king. He gazed at them for some time, admiring their rapid, graceful movements, and thinking how fully the gray would supply the place of the horse he had lost, when he noticed that the animals were feeding directly toward him. Fearful of being discovered, he crawled back down the swell, and rejoined his cousin.
"What shall we do?" asked the latter, excitedly.
"Don't you suppose Dick could catch one of those fellows?" inquired Frank.
"Of course he could," answered Archie, quickly. "Didn't he catch that black mustang he told us about--a horse that every body had tried to catch, and couldn't? Let's go back, and ask him to try."
The boys hastily remounted, and started for the camp as fast as their horses could carry them. Archie, of course, led the way, and, as he dashed up to the wagon, he threw himself from the saddle, exclaiming:
"Dick, there's a drove of wild horses out there on the prairie. Jump on Sam, and go and catch one for Frank."
"That's the same drove I seed day afore yesterday," said old Bob, "an'
that's what I meant when I told Frank we'd put him on hossback ag'in afore he war two days older. Ketch my hoss, Dick."
Dick did as he was desired, and, by this time, Frank had come up, Archie, in his eagerness, having left him far behind.
"Did you skeer 'em, youngsters?" asked old Bob, as he went to the wagon and drew out two rawhide lassos, one of which he handed to Dick.
"No," replied Frank. "They didn't see us. Dick, catch the king--he's a large iron-gray--the prettiest horse in the drove. If I could have him, I would be glad I lost Pete."
"Wal, now, that ar' will be a hard thing to do, youngsters," replied the trapper, coiling up his lasso, and hanging it on the horn of his saddle; "a mighty hard thing to do. Them ar' kings ar' allers the swiftest hosses in the drove; an' it aint every ole buffaler hunter that can keep up with 'em."