CHAPTER XXIV.OFF FOR TONIO PASS.
“Tired out, Dell?” asked Buffalo Bill, whirling on the girl as soon as Markham and his detachment had ridden away.
“Did you ever know me to be that?” the girl countered.
“I don’t think any one ever knew you to say so. Go to the cook’s hang-out and get something to eat, you and Cayuse. Then come back here and we’ll hold a powwow.”
“We can hold the powwow first, if you’d rather.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not to hurt.”
“Well, the horses are. Cayuse can put them out and then join you at the chuck-shanty.”
Dell and Cayuse left the cabin. When they had gone, Buffalo Bill walked over to the bunk where Patterson was lying. The doctor was sitting at the head of the bunk watching his patient. The sergeant had opened his eyes, and, as the scout came toward the bunk, kept them on him.
“Buffalo Bill?” said Patterson.
“The same.”
“I’ve heard a lot about ye, but this is the first time our trails have ever crossed.”
“Hope it won’t be the last time. It’s a pleasure to meet up with a man like you. Sergeant, eh?” he added, his eyes on the diamond of one of Patterson’s sleeves.
“Sergeant Patterson.”
“I reckon you had a hard time getting through with your despatches.”
“That’s the size of it. Wouldn’t have got through, either, but for that girl pard of yours. Say, she’s a brick.”
“She is,” agreed the scout. “What did she do in your case?”
Patterson went into the matter at length, beginning with the way Dell scampered off from Fort Grant. Then he followed the recital on down to the fight, and the way Dell and Little Cayuse had brought him in.
The doctor interfered, once or twice, to say that Patterson was talking too much. But Patterson wouldn’t stop until he had finished all he had in mind.
“Certainly Dell should have stayed at Grant,” said the scout, “but fate usually knows best when it takes such matters in hand and regulates them. If Dell had stayed at the post, you’d be on the hogback now minus your scalp; and Geronimo would have had Grayson’s despatches. The wily old red would have given a lot to get hold of those papers.”
Buffalo Bill went back to the table and seated himself. Ten minutes later, Dell and Cayuse reappeared.
“Sit down now,” said the scout, “and give me the whole of this thing. You first, Dell, and then Cayuse can open fire.”
Dell, as might be expected, glossed over her part in the night’s doings, gave Patterson a lot of credit, and Cayuse considerably more.
Cayuse began his recital with an account of the disaster to Bascomb’s escort.
He told how the escort, expecting no trouble, rode into the Apache ambush; how a murderous fire openedupon the escort from right and left; how Nomad, unhurt, turned to flee; and how he—Cayuse—thinking Nomad would escape, gave attention to his own safety.
Outmaneuvering the Apaches, Cayuse went on to describe how he skirmished back toward the scene of the ambush, hoping to find Nomad; how he examined the slain and scalped soldiers, without being successful in locating the trapper; how he picked up the trail of the Apaches and followed them to Tonio Pass, saw the wounded Bascomb lifted from his horse, and saw Geronimo personally superintending the work of caring for the white renegade.
After this Cayuse started for Bonita to report to Buffalo Bill, crossed the trail of more Apaches, and followed it to the hogback, where he made such good use of hisrifle in helpingDell and the sergeant.
“All three of you distinguished yourselves,” said the scout; “you acted just as Buffalo Bill likes to see his pards act. But, Cayuse, I should like to know whether you are positive the Indian you saw at Tonio Pass was Geronimo.”
“Heap sure,” declared the boy.
“You know him, do you?”
“Me see um plenty times when me belong with the army.”
“Very good. For some time, now, this deserter, Bascomb, has made us a good deal of trouble. He had a few renegade Apaches with him, you remember, in the hills around the Three-ply Mine. When we caught the scoundrel on that island in Quicksand Lake, I was sure we had him at the end of his rope; and I am about equally sure that Geronimo and his bucks jumped the reservation in order to get Bascomb away from the soldiers. Ifthat is the case, then Bascomb is the man for us to lay hold of. I have started on his trail, and I do not intend to hold back until he is landed.
“Naturally, I am more anxious to rescue Nomad than to recapture Bascomb, but this matter of Nomad’s is a point that puzzles me. If he was really taken prisoner, as Cayuse thinks, what became of him? He wasn’t with Bascomb and Geronimo; and, if Geronimo had him, it seems odd he wouldn’t keep such a prisoner by him. Nomad is a captive the wily old chief would be proud of.”
“Mebbyso Geronimo kill um Wolf-killer.”
This remark of Cayuse’s was a logical deduction, but the scout would not accept it.
“No, Cayuse,” said he, “if Geronimo was going to put Nomad out of the way, he’d have done it there on the scene of the ambush. Geronimo, however, is sharp enough to understand that Nomad is worth more to him alive than he would be dead. So we come back to the thing I can’t understand: If Nomad is a prisoner, where is he? And why wasn’t he taken to Tonio Pass?”
A silence of several minutes followed.
“As I figure the matter,” the scout resumed presently, “it amounts to this: Geronimo, with all the troopers at Grant, Apache, Bowie, and Huachuca against him, has none too many warriors. Evidently the chief thinks a lot of Bascomb, and will take care of him, but the chief can’t leave very many warriors for that purpose. Probably he will leave two or three. So, if we ride to Tonio Pass and exercise a fair amount of caution, we have a good chance of getting hold of Bascomb; then, with Bascomb once in our hands, perhaps we can force him to tell us where Nomad was taken. That is our cue. Assoon as your horses are able to take the road we’ll be off for Tonio Pass.”
“Silver Heels is ready now,” said Dell. “He’s all leather and whalebone, and never gets tired.”
“Navi all right, too,” averred Cayuse.
“It’s not a piece of work, Dell,” said the scout, “in which you ought to join.”
Dell threw back her head, and her face reddened.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Don’t make a mistake, little one,” laughed the scout, “for I’m not cutting you out of this little surprise-party. I’m going to take you along because I think it’s safer to take you than to leave you. This camp is badly depleted of troops, and if Geronimo should take it into his rascally head to come down on Bonita, there’d be a hot fight. For that reason, in view of possible contingencies, I’d rather take you with me than leave you here.
“And then, again,” he said slyly, “if I left you behind, Dell, you might take the bit in your teeth just as you did at Grant. You wouldn’t mind the colonel, and perhaps you wouldn’t mind me.”
“The sergeant must have been saying things,” murmured Dell.
“He couldn’t find words enough to tell me how much he admires you for your daring and courage. However, we’ll let that pass. Wait here, Dell, and Cayuse and I will go for the horses.”
As the scout and the Indian boy left the cabin, Dell moved over to where the sergeant was lying. She wanted a last word with him before she, and the scout, and Cayuse galloped out of Bonita.
“You know this country, Cayuse?” asked the scout,as he and the Piute moved through the camp toward the place where the horses were picketed.
“Wuh,” said Little Cayuse.
“You can take us to Tonio Pass without any trouble?”
“Sure.”
“In that case, then, I won’t take any of the Pimas as guides. The smaller our force the more mobile it will be. Our foray is more of a scouting-expedition than anything else, although we shall be prepared to take care of double our numbers if we come to a show-down with the renegades.”
The horses were saddled, bridled, and watered; canteens were filled, and a day’s rations were secured at the chuck-shanty.
Silver Heels and Navi certainly looked fit enough for any kind of a trail.
Lieutenant Doyle, second in command now that Markham was away, halted the scout as he and Cayuse were riding for the headquarters cabin with Silver Heels in tow.
“You’d better take a few of the boys with you, Cody,” he advised.
“You may need all the boys yourself, Doyle,” smiled the scout.
“Of course Geronimo is the sort of lightning that strikes where and when least expected,” returned Doyle, “but I don’t think he’ll fool with the military so close to headquarters. Anyhow, we can spare some Pimas.”
“None for me. One Indian is all I’m going to take on this trip,” and the scout laid a hand on Cayuse’s arm. “My Piute pard is worth a dozen Pimas.”
“You’re too old a hand for me to tell you to look out for yourself. You always do that, I reckon.”
“If I hadn’t, my scalp would have been hung up in a Sioux lodge years ago.”
The scout and the boy rode on, halted at the door of the cabin, and Dell came out and vaulted lightly into her saddle.
“Now,” said she, with a sparkle in her eyes, “we’re off for Tonio Pass.”
Could the scout have foreseen what was to happen on that venturesome journey, rather than take Dauntless Dell with him, he would have had Doyle send her to Bowie under escort.
But, to quote Catamount Tom, the old hunter, “we can’t be so wise all the time as we are just some of the time;” so the little party galloped down the cañon on its way through the hostile country to Tonio Pass.