CHAPTER XVIII.INTERESTING ACQUAINTANCES.
Grizzled old Nick Nomad, solitary representative of law and order on an expanse broader than the eye could span, was making his lonely way eastward in what he understood to be the wake of his pards. He was talking to himself, possibly, but his conversation was directly addressed to Hide-rack, the horse that the famous old trapper and trailer loved better than any he ever bestrode.
“Now, look hyar, Hide-rack, yew cantankerous ole heifercat, don’t ye reckon it’s ’bout time ter pitch our tent an’ eat our doughnuts? We’ve plodded on middlin’ plenty sence sunup, an’ sez I, Nick, ole boy, yer tummy is makin’ love ter yer backbone. What yer say, Hide-rack, ye ole rye-an’-Injun mix-up?”
Nomad’s pet names might not have appealed to ears more refined than Hide-rack’s, but the sound of his master’s voice and the kindly pats on his neck that accompanied them lifted the tired ears of the courageous animal, and he briskly increased his pace.
“Waugh! Hide-rack, thet’s jest like ye—better arter a sixty-mile run than ye wor at ther start-off. Yer ther clear——
“By ther great horn spoon an’ granny’s ole tin ladle! Ef thar hain’t er c’ral-a-loomin’ up ez big as life right off here whar ther moon is goin’ ter come up sometime, mebbe. D’ye hyar thet, Hide-rack? The’s fodderin’s an’ comp’ny ahead. Boom ’er up, ole hoss pard; we wants ter make er showin’ when we lite.”
Probably Hide-rack did not catch the full meaning ofhis man pard’s words, but at about that time his animal instinct served notice that creatures of his kind were nigh, and, raising his head, the horse, too, saw the human habitation with all its suggestions of feed and rest.
The tired animal lifted head and tail, and, as Nomad expressed it, “set sail fer ther c’ral lickerty split.”
Old Nomad dashed up to the ranch, or, rather, the home of a stockman who had brought his family to the plains, and shouted:
“Whooee! in thar—ye all dead, er on’y jes’ nachally givin’ ther reds er chanst ter jump in an’ gobble ther hull kerboodle ov ye?”
A tall, dark, broad-shouldered man with piercing eyes and heavy beard stepped to the door.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t know who ye be, but yer welcome as long as ye behave yerself.”
“Waugh! Who ever hearn tell o’ ole Nick Nomad doin’ anything else but behavin’? Stranger, yer better look ergin. Mebbeso ye can see a ombray what is some tired an’ more er less hungry—mostly more.”
“Climb down, old Nick Nomad, or the Old Nick hisself—neither of ye’ll ever be turned away from Jasp Avery’s door hungry. Git down, old man, an’ come right in; I’ll tend to yer hoss, same as if he be my own.”
“Jasp Avery, I likes ther way ye holds yer mouth an’ swings yer under jaw. So off I comes, an’ hyar’s my hand.”
Nomad went with the cowman, and saw that the “faithful” Hide-rack didn’t accept an opportunity to plant a pair of steel-shod heels in the anatomy of the stranger who was offering hospitality.
Inside the home of the herdsman Nomad was introduced to “Father Avery,” who was lying on a rudely constructed lounge and emitting occasional groans.
The story of an attack by Indians the previous night soon came out, and Nomad heard of the climax with satisfaction.
The younger Avery explained that he had foreseen trouble with the Indians and had sent his wife and children to Fort Sarpy a month previous. His cowpunchers, four of them, were all far back where they had gone with the stock to find better grazing. He and his father were alone, but they were well fortified and had plenty of rifles and ammunition.
The house had been constructed with an eye to possible hostilities, and resembled a miniature fort, out of which led an underground passage to a dugout that was concealed underground and ventilated by an opening into an almost impenetrable thicket of willow and sage brush.
The arrangement was well calculated to give a strong band of attacking Indians a warm reception and a mystery to wind it up, if they overpowered the settler and set fire to the ranch house.
In his story of riding down and disposing of the Indians, the younger Avery mentioned the two white men he had passed on the plain. He said he didn’t like the looks of them.
Old Nomad was instantly interested, and demanded a description. Within five minutes he was convinced that Avery had held conversation with the escaped Price and the supposed-to-be-dead Bloody Ike.
“I’d bet Hide-rack ergin er grasshopper them’s ther fellers!” he declared. “An’ by ther harnsome whiskers o’ my Aunt Hannah’s billy goat I wish Buffler was here.”
“Who’s ‘Buffler’?” demanded Avery.
“Why, Buffler Bill, ther king o’ ther plainsmen’ an’ ther whitest man thet ever threw er leg over a saddle. He’smy pard, Buffler is, an’ he’s actin’ fer ther gov’ment out here ermong ther redskins. I’m on ’is trail sence day ’fore yistidy f’m Bozeman. ’Twas thar they tol’ me Price hed ’scaped. I c’n see er hole in er ladder, an’ thet same is as how Bloody Ike warn’t blowed up, nohow, an’ he worked some scheme ter git Price out o’ ther hole.”
“Who is ‘Bloody Ike’?” asked Avery.
“He’s ther onerariest polecat south o’ Canady, an’ he travels with er bag o’ blarstin’ powder, an’ is allers ready ter touch et off when ennybuddy runs up ergin ’im permiscous.”
“What’s his last name?”
“I hain’t never hearn tell—et’s jes’ ‘Bloody Ike’ over in ther Gallatin country, an’ et fits.”
“I’d like to know if it’s Ike Peltier, who used to do ther blastin’ in the Ten-nugget Mine. If ’tis I’d give ten o’ my best hosses to be alone with ’im about a minute.”
“Waugh! I’d like jes’ erbout ther same time with thet pardner o’ his. But, say, Neighbor Avery, yore eyes aire some better’n gimlet holes, I take et—what du ye call thet thar percession ’bout five p’ints ter ther north o’ yer upper haystack?”
“It’s a party on hossback—one, two—eight, little an’ big, makin’ this way.”
“What d’ye reckon, neighbor?”
“I ain’t no guesser huntin’ for a record, but I’m willin’ to predict it’s some rancher over east that’s been raided by Injuns an’ makin’ for some other ranch or the nearest settlement with what’s left.”
Half an hour later old Nomad was dancing merrily and waving his old slouch hat as Buffalo Bill, Hickok,Little Cayuse, a sickly-looking man, a woman, a boy, and two girls rode up.
It was the Corey family, whom Buffalo Bill had offered to accompany to some spot more secure against the attacks of roving bands of Indians, or, rather, bands making for the Bad Lands to join Sitting Bull’s war party. They were warmly greeted by young Avery and his father, and invited to take up their home there for the present.
Avery assured his visitors that two or three men could defend the place against ten times their number of hostile red men, and that he would call in his cowboys and herds to closer quarters.
Corey’s herd with two cowboys were working that way and would reach the section sometime the next day. Avery promptly suggested that the herds be consolidated and at least one of the cowboys left always at the ranch for the protection of the non-combatants.
This arrangement gave vast relief to the Coreys, who had been thoroughly scared by the attack upon their home, and it also relieved the minds of Buffalo Bill and his pards, who disliked to leave the woman and children exposed to the venom of the first outfit of red marauders who happened to cross that way.
The scout accepted the hospitality of the rancher for the night, and with his pards set off early next morning on the trail of Price and Bloody Ike.
“Little Buffalo Bill” pleaded hard to be allowed to accompany the scout, but was denied by his parents and advised by the scout himself to remain to guard his mother and sisters.
Suddenly awakened to a new responsibility in life, the boy became the superior of his father in manly qualities. Of perfect physical condition and good mental balance,William F. Corey had been awakened by a crisis from the slumber of youth to the cares of young manhood. He realized the inefficiency of his father, who was weakened by long illness and worry for the future of his loved ones.
And the father, too, suddenly became aware that he had a stout staff to lean upon.
Before the scout and his pards shook hands all around and set off toward the Yellowstone, they were urged by all to return, and the younger Avery declared that as soon as he could arrange his affairs, so that he could feel everything at home was snug and tight, he would gladly give his services to the scout until the uprising should be ended.
This offer Buffalo Bill said he might be glad to accept later, and thanked his hosts for their kindness and hospitality.