CHAPTER XXXIII.THE HACIENDA.
After an uneventful journey, Buffalo Bill rode up to the little inn where he had before halted, and was greeted by the same Mexican landlord, whom he had not particularly fancied.
Speaking English well, the landlord recognized the handsome scout, and said in a way that was meant to be hospitable, but which was full of curiosity:
“Ah, señor, you again come this way—is your stay to be short, as before?”
“On the contrary, Señor Riel, I am here to stay.”
“Ah, señor! you like the Silver Lake Valley, then?”
“Very much.”
“You are a gambler, perhaps, señor, or you have no business?”
“Oh, no, I am a ranchero, and have come to settle down the valley, near the lake.”
“You amaze me, señor, for there is no ranch to sell there.”
“There is one unoccupied, and may be for sale. I shall take possession of it, herd my cattle in the surrounding country, and, when the owner appears, will pay him what is just. Now, tell me, Señor Riel, if the padre is at home—— Oh, I see him there now,” and Buffalo Bill walked rapidly away to wherea small, dark-faced man was standing, dressed as a Mexican priest.
“The Padre Juan, I believe?” he asked politely.
“Yes, my son, but I know you not.”
“No; I am an American, and once passing through this valley, decided to find a home here. I called upon you, but you were away from home, and I have just arrived to settle here.”
“How can I serve you, señor?”
“I have some miles away my cattle and horses, and my destination is the old deserted hacienda down the valley on the lake. I would ask you if you can place me in communication with the owner?”
“I cannot, my son, for the one who fell heir to that truly accursed place is a stranger, and was never here. It is a blot upon the valley, and will be a home of ill omen should you dwell there, which Heaven forbid.”
“I thank you, padre, but my men and cattle are near, and to-morrow night I will take possession of the ill-omened place, as you call it, with the pledge to you to pay what is right for its use. As we are all men, we need but little household furniture, and that I can buy at your stores here in Silver Lake City.”
“But, my son, let me tell you that this whole valley is under a curse, and if you remain here, especially within that dreary hacienda with its record of death, you but become another upon whom suffering must fall.”
“I will take all chances, padre, and as the deserted hacienda is to be my home, let me say that I will be happy to entertain you there whenever you pass that way.”
“Thank you, señor, thank you, but only in case duty called me would I cross the threshold of that house, for it is haunted by the crudest of memories, if not worse. I wish you well, señor, but I have warned you—it was my duty.”
Returning to the landlord of the little adobe tavern, Buffalo Bill told him that he wished to make some purchases, and to get a wagon to take them to the deserted hacienda.
“You will go there, then, señor?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You do not heed the warnings, then?”
“I am not superstitious, and so warnings of imaginary evils have no dread for me; but, if warned of a real danger, I heed, as I flatter myself that I am no fool.”
The landlord shook his head; and then said he would furnish the means of transportation for what the señor cared to purchase, and he would take him to the best places at which to buy them.
The purchases were soon made, loaded in a wagon, and started upon the way for the hacienda, the scout, after having dinner at the tavern, starting on afterthe men, for they were already well on their way to the new home of Buffalo Bill in the mysterious valley.
The wagon was soon overtaken, and afterward the herd, and Buffalo Bill said:
“We now camp, pards, and to-morrow early we go into our home.”
The night halt was made, an early start followed the next morning, and before noon the cattle were halted upon the rich meadowland on either side the lake, several scouts left to guard them, while the rest rode on after their chief, who had gone on ahead to the hacienda.
“If that is not an owl’s roost I’m mistaken,” said one.
“It may be an outlaws’ retreat.”
“The place may be haunted.”
Some laughed, some did not, others looked grave, and said nothing. The superstitions of a few had been aroused.
But into the walled-in plaza rode the scouts, followed by the wagon, and there stood Buffalo Bill, but his left sleeve was stained with blood, his face had a bruise upon it, and he had the appearance of one who had been in a terrible struggle.
“Boys,” he said calmly, “make yourselves at home, for I am master here.”
Telling Texas Jack where to halt the cattle and horses, to have a guard of several men over them,and then come on with the others and the wagon and animals.
The chief of scouts had cantered on alone to the hacienda.
As he approached it, he saw that all appeared there as he had left it a month before.
To him it looked as though no one had visited the place, and he saw not even a skulking coyote. This put him on his guard, for he knew that when he had visited the place first many coyotes had run out. Now, having found none about, he at once concluded that some one had been there within the last few minutes. So he was on his guard. Leaving his horse in the grounds, he entered the hacienda.
It was a large structure, one story in height, built of adobe, and in the center was a square towerlike structure, with a top that looked very much as though the whole space within the walls, several acres in area, could be swept by even revolvers in the hands of persons stationed there on the tower roof. In the rear was a lofty cliff. It commanded, too, a wide range with rifles, and that it was intended for a stronghold there was no doubt in the scout’s mind.
There were about thirty rooms in the building, some furnished with chairs and bedsteads, but of all else the place had been swept clean.
Selecting the rooms that were to be their quarters, and being glad to see that the place within the wallswould readily hold all their horses and cattle in an emergency when the entrance was repaired, Buffalo Bill was passing out through a long and dimly lighted corridor, when he beheld before him what appeared to be two diamonds glittering in the half darkness.
But he was not deceived, he had seen just such balls of fire often before in his eventful life, and he was as quick as a flash in dropping his hand upon a weapon in his belt.
It was his knife, and he had just time to draw it and raise the point, when, with a savage growl there sprang upon him a huge mountain lion.
The weight of the animal hurled Buffalo Bill backward, and he fell against the rough wall with considerable force, bruising his face badly, while he also felt the teeth of the mad animal buried in his arm.
But he had got his knife on guard, and the long, sharp blade had cut into the heart of the lion, the force of the spring driving it to the hilt.
Half dazed by the fall against the wall and the blow of the huge body against him, Buffalo Bill yet recognized that he must cut, and once more he drove his knife deep into the shaggy hide.
But to his joy he recognized that there was no need of his doing more, for the animal upon him was a dead weight, the first knife thrust had entered his heart, and the teeth that had been driven into the scout’s arm had not been closed upon it, for the mountainlion had sprung to a quick and sudden death, the keen blade catching, by an accident, just in the right spot to kill.
Throwing off the weight, Buffalo Bill arose to his feet.
Was it from the concussion that he had received that made strange figures appear before his eyes, or did he really behold a ghostly form, clad in white, at the end of the long, dark corridor, one arm pointing straight outward, the other down at the ground.
“I’ll tackle you, too, for ghosts are more to my liking than mountain lions,” said Buffalo Bill grimly, and he rubbed his eyes to see that they were not deceiving him, and, drawing his revolver now he rushed forward to grapple with this new foe.
But then, as he felt that it was no vision of the brain, but in reality a ghostly looking form, not fifty feet from him, he halted and called out in a voice that echoed through the corridor:
“Hands up, there, or I’ll fire and kill you!”
But the order was not obeyed, the form still standing mute and motionless, and pointing as before.
Instantly came a red flash from the scout’s revolver, and a sharp report rang through the hacienda.