CHAPTER XXIV.THE LOST VALLEY.
Still another day and another went by, and each night brought the scouts farther and farther into a most beautiful country, yet one that thus far had been most fatal to all palefaces venturing there, lured to risk life and untold hardships and suffering in search of the yellow dross that buys men so readily, body and soul.
Buffalo Bill once owed his life to Don Miller when he was a scout, and liked the man; but he had given up scouting, and had gone to lawless gold hunting in the Big Horn, and the report had come that his whole party had been massacred; but Cody was only glad that his friend had escaped.
Noon the next day brought them to a perfect garden spot in the Big Horn Mountains. The springs were as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, the trees grand, and the little valleys most inviting for a camp.
Black Bill boldly asserted that the Indians would never come there, that they believed these mountains the abode of the evil spirits.
Buffalo Bill knew, in spite of Miller’s protestations and nerve, that Don was not yet well, but good food, rest, and bathing in these springs would help him; so he decided to go regularly into camp there.
They need have no dread of Indians there, and they had left no trail to be followed easily.
They would halt there, for the men needed the rest, and he and Black Bill would take short searches to try and find the Lost Valley and its mysterious people.
Several times in the last day the giant negro had halted and regarded his surroundings in a fixed way. He seemed to be trying to recall some feature in the landscape as though he had seen it before.
It had been two months and more since he was there before, if he had passed that way in his wanderings, and then the trees were bright green, in midsummer.
Now they were changing to autumn tints, and, as is well known, this changed the whole aspect of the country.
The springs the negro had not seen, though there were people from the Lost Valley who had been there.
“Black Bill has been near here before, I feel certain, Sergeant Buck, and our plan is to scout about the mountains until we strike some locality familiar to him.”
“Yes, chief, that is just it, sir.”
“We can all have a rest, and Miller is really not well yet.”
“No, sir, and it is not any wonder, when you think them red devils had his hands tied behind him during all their retreat, and his legs so tightly bound that the flesh was cut into.”
“Yes; but he will rally quickly here and soon will be well.
“He is a brave and noble-hearted man, if he did break the law by invading this country as a gold boomer.”
“He is all you say of him, chief, and the boys are very much attached to him, sir.
“Then, too, sir, he’s another strong arm and brave heart, if we get into trouble, which I now believe we will not, as Black Bill seems to be a terror the redskins won’t face,” said Sergeant Buck.
“But will you pick the camp?”
“Yes.”
The spot selected was all that could be wished.
Wikiups were built as a shelter, for the cold nights were coming on, and the men made themselves most comfortable right near a large spring.
Leaves furnished good mattresses to spread blankets upon, the provisions were plentiful, and very little use had been made of the ammunition, save to kill game.
As there was no game near the spring, it was decided to send several scouts on a hunt the next day to get deer, and in the streams the fish were plentiful.
The scouts had realized the virtue of being blacked up in that country, and Don Miller had transferred himself also, in appearance at least, to a negro.
Without a guard, the scouts lay down to sleep, and nothing disturbed their slumbers.
The next morning Corporal Milk took a party hunting up the valley with him, and Buffalo Bill and Black Bill began their real search for the Lost Valley.
The hunters were gone all day, and when they returned to the camp at sunset they carried very heavy loads of game of various kinds.
But the scouts who remained in the camp could give no reply as to what had become of Buffalo Bill and the negro.
They had not put in an appearance, and it was certainly thought that they should have done so.
“Was it any one else than the chief, I would be anxious,” said Sergeant Buck hopefully; but all could see that he was anxious, even though it was the chief.
Buffalo Bill had said that they would be back before night. He had not returned. It had been his intention, they knew, to go out each day with the negro, and in a different direction, to try and come upon some scene Black Bill would recognize.
If he did not do so from that camp, they would move to another, and in that time Don Miller would be as well as any of them, and they would see what discovery could be made.
But here, the very first day of the search, the chief of the scouts and the giant negro did not return. What could it mean?
Buffalo Bill was not the man to get lost anywhere. He could find his way in the darkness right throughan unknown country. It was a talent with him—an instinct—and his men never feared for him, save from an ambush from an enemy, or treachery.
There were several of the scouts who still doubted the black guide. They could not feel the faith in him which their chief did. In spite of the seeming honesty of the negro, they doubted him. He was an object of mystery to them—a man to dread.
They could not believe that he had started alone to find aid, to look up Buffalo Bill, and yet could not find his way back to the point whence he had started. It looked strange to them. Now he had gone off alone with the chief of scouts, and they had not returned. This to some looked like treachery.
The scouts awaited supper for some time, and then ate it, as the chief and the negro did not return.
The meal was, however, not enjoyed by any one.
Bedtime came, and yet what could be done? No one could go out at night to look for the missing chief and the negro.
If nothing had happened, then Buffalo Bill would find the way to the camp in a mountain storm.
All knew that the scout did not go without his blanket, a haversack of food, and was prepared to spend the night anywhere he might be overtaken.
A search of the traps of the negro showed that he had gone also prepared for a stay, if necessary.
At last the scouts decided to retire and put the bestface on the nonreturn of the chief by saying that they had doubtless gone so far, made some discovery, and to carry out their intention had decided to camp where they were for the night, to be on the spot early in the morning, rather than return to camp.
“We will start on the hunt, pards, if they are not here to breakfast,” said Sergeant Buck.
Dawn came, but the chief and the negro had not returned.
One of those who appeared to be most anxious about the chief was Don Miller. He wanted to go on the search.
“We will all go, and divide in twos, and if we cannot find their trail we will go the way we think they must have gone.
“You take care of the camp, Mr. Miller, and each one of us, as he gives up the search, will come in; only I do not wish any man to give up until he is certain that he cannot find the chief, and must get back here by night.
“Yes, I want every man back here in camp by night.
“You will see where we are located, and no man need get lost.
“Come right back to camp if any discovery is made; and, I tell you, boys, we must find the chief.
“If he has been treacherously dealt with, as I see some of you believe, then we know who did it, and we must find him.
“Now, pards, let us be off!” said Sergeant Buck.
Such was the sergeant’s speech to his comrades, and they all started on their search.
And in the lone camp, Don Miller remained by himself, watching them as they disappeared on different trails, and musing to himself in a very determined way:
“Buffalo Bill must be found, dead or alive; and, if dead, he shall be avenged!”