CHAPTER XII.IN THE OUTLAW STRONGHOLD.
Snaky Pete’s men, when they returned, reported that no horse they had could keep in sight of the thoroughbred ridden by Buffalo Bill.
The outlaw chief received the report, lying on a roll of blankets, gasping and sputtering. The bullet fired by the scout had struck him on the lower lip, laying it open, knocking out some teeth, and bringing a spurt of blood from the wound. Snaky Pete had thought he was killed when he fell and knew that blood was pouring from his mouth. As a matter of fact, he was not seriously wounded, though the pain was sharp for a time, and the character of the wound made it difficult for him to speak.
His fright did not soon pass, however. Even after his men returned with their report that Buffalo Bill had escaped he still lay on the blankets, moaning and cursing.
The fact that Buffalo Bill had ridden toward distant Fort Thompson filled him with uneasiness. Because of it he ordered the horses to be got ready, and the entire band to move at once into the Sepulcher Mountains.
He was filled with a sullen and savage rage against Pizen Jane and Pool Clayton, and against Nick Nomad. He began to believe that Pizen Jane had guided Nomad and Buffalo Bill; and he now even suspectedthat Pool Clayton, in joining the band, was moved by a desire to betray it into the hands of officers.
He refused to furnish Pizen Jane with a horse, declaring that if she accompanied him she would have to walk.
She came up to him, as he swayed weakly on the horse to which he had been helped.
“Git out o’ my way,” he mumbled. “If you hang ’round me I’ll kill ye!”
“But I want to know if you ain’t goin’ to send Pool away? I ain’t goin’ away myself, but I want Pool turned loose on a horse, with orders fer him to go back to Cinnabar. I’ve been talkin’ with him, and he’ll do it. Aire ye goin’ to let him?”
“I’ll furnish you with a horse to clear out on,” he said, speaking with pain and difficulty.
“Me? La, I ain’t goin’! But I want him to start now, instanter. Here he’s like a good apple in the middle of a lot of rotten ones. So I——”
“Go yourself!” Snaky Pete snarled at her.
“No, I stay with you!”
“Why?”
“Well, jest to please myself.”
“To help that old trapper?”
“No; jes’ to please myself. I’m yer wife, ain’t I? Er I was, before I divorced ye. I think I’ll stay with you.”
“I’ll kill you if you do!” he fumed. “He can’t go! Go yerself, and I’ll be glad to have you git out.”
She dropped back, to where Pool Clayton was riding.
He slipped from his horse.
“Take it, and I’ll walk,” he said, with a guilty flush.
“I want you to leave these men instanter,” she urged.
“No; I ain’t goin’ to. Why don’tyougo?”
“Me?” She leaned toward him. “Because I’ve swore by everything that’s good and bad that I’m goin’ to kill Pete Sanborn soon’s I git the chance. He ruined my life, and now he’s ruinin’ yourn.”
Her voice was low, but her face flushed as if she had swallowed fiery liquor.
Snaky Pete saw her talking with the youth, and then saw her mount the horse which Pool surrendered to her.
“They’re ag’inst me!” he grumbled, under his breath. “They’ve planned to break up the band and git me captured. It’s revenge she’s after. Well, I’ll settle her; and I’ll settle him, and that old trapper, too! I see now why Pool wouldn’t shoot the old cuss; it was ’cause he’s in with him. He and she aire in with Buffalo Bill and the officers. Likely they’re to git a reward, if they land me. Well, I’ll settle ’em!”
He brooded over this, his anger mounting and his desire to “settle ’em” growing.
“Mebbe I can git out of her what the plans of Buffalo Bill aire; er mebbe I can git it out of Pool. I reckon that Cody will try to bring soldiers from Fort Thompson. There’s a nasty fight comin’, I can see. Well, I’m livin’ yit; and long’s I can straddle a horse and give orders, I’m worth a dozen men in a fight. And if Cody thinks we won’t fight he’ll know better when he tackles us.”
His thoughts took another turn:
“P’r’aps I might buy Cody to draw off the soldiers by sending him word that if he didn’t I’d kill Nomad. It might work, and might be advisable if we git in a tight hole.”
He was in a fretting and fuming mood when the Sepulcher Mountains were entered. His wound made him feverish, and that did not add to his good temper. He snapped and snarled at his men whenever they came to him for orders, and conducted himself altogether in a disagreeable way.
“He’s jes’ like a bear with a sore head,” said Pizen Jane, when she observed these things.
She had kept with the outlaw command, and Pool Clayton had done the same; both of them avoiding, as much as possible, personal contact with the irascible leader.
As soon as their permanent camp was gained, in the Sepulcher Mountains, the outlaws began to put it in order for a fight or a siege.
The place was a cuplike hollow, with a pass running through it. If an enemy could gain and hold both ends of that pass the outlaws could only escape by scaling the mountains. But, on the other hand, if the outlaws barricaded those entrances into the valley and stationed a force of riflemen behind the barricades, the troopers who climbed over them would have the fight of their lives to accomplish it.
Tn spite of the pain of his wound and his feverishness, Snaky Pete personally superintended the strengthening of the barricades. He saw that ammunitionwas properly distributed, and that all arms were put in the best possible condition.
Night was approaching before all the defenses were in condition to suit him. He looked them over carefully, as he walked from point to point, his face swathed in bandages.
“If they climb over them,” he thought grimly, “there’ll be more dead troopers than live ones. When Snaky Pete gits his back to the wall, he fights, and they’ll find it out.”