CHAPTER XLVII.THE CONQUEROR.
Buffalo Bill turned his eyes from the bleeding corpse of his enemy, staggered to a near-by boulder, and dropped upon it to rest. His own strength was far spent. Besides, the wound he had received in his shoulder, aggravated by his long, cold swim and the violent exertions of the past few minutes, had broken out bleeding afresh. Boyd Bennett would never know how near he came to being victor himself in this awful battle!
As for the consequence, he dropped upon the rock, exhausted and ill. The hardiest and most seasoned veteran comes to the end of his tether at last, and for thirty-six hours Cody had been riding hard, and fighting hard, and swimming hard—and all without bite or sup! There had been no time for the preparation of food when he left his cave in the mountain to follow Boyd Bennett and the White Antelope, and since that time he had neither dared shoot game nor had he seen the time to cook and eat.
And that which fairly quenched his spirit now was the thought that he seemed to have taken all this hard labor upon his shoulders for naught. True, his old-time enemy was finally dead. Boyd Bennett, the outlaw of the Overland Trail, the Death Killer of the Utah Sioux, would never again trouble mortal man—unless his spirit came back to haunt the scenes of his bloody deeds.
But Buffalo Bill had not put forth all this effort merely to best this old-time foe. First of all, he desiredto save the White Antelope, but he seemed to have failed in this. Boyd Bennett had plainly carried his threat into execution. He had actually drowned the unfortunate girl. It had been that thought, more than any other, that had nerved Buffalo Bill to drive the steel home into Bennett’s heart!
“All gone now—the last of the three!” muttered the scout, passing his hand across his shaking lips. “And such horrible deaths for all! Death by the bullet and the fall from the cliff. Death by the war-club and tomahawk. And now death by the river—and the hands of a cursed villain. Horrible! horrible!”
These enigmatical remarks, uttered aloud, drowned a rustling in the bushes behind him. Suddenly a light hand fell upon his shoulder. The scout did not start—his nerves were too steady. But he glanced at the small, brown hand, and then looked up along the arm, turning his head until he looked full into the face of the White Antelope. There his gaze hung, while his lips remained speechless for the moment.
“Pa-e-has-ka has killed his enemy and mine. This makes the White Antelope and Long Hair friends.”
She held out her hand to him, and the scout took it, still in a daze.
“By holy!” he muttered. “I sure thought she was dead.”
“What is it my white brother mutters?”
“I reckoned you were drowned, White Antelope,” repeated Cody.
“Nay. I held my breath under the water. But that wicked man came near to drowning me.”
“I should say he did!”
“Then he would have revived me; but I remained as though unconscious, for I feared him.”
“You’ll have need to fear him no more.”
“Ah! it was a good fight! I watched. The Long Hair is indeed a great chief.”
Cody shuddered and glanced away. He did not like to think of the daughter of Oak Heart’s white wife viewing with satisfaction such a terrible battle as that which had just cursed this spot.
“The Long Hair is cold. Let him come to the fire yonder and dry his body and rest.”
“I don’t care if I do. I feel like I was frozen clear to my marrow. You’ve got a fire, have you?”
“Death Killer made it to dry us by. Now you shall have it,” she said.
The scout basked for some minutes in the heat of the fire, which White Antelope heaped with fresh fuel. But he could not remain inactive for long. His perturbed mind, relieved by the discovery of the girl’s safety, instantly fixed upon other worriments.
Her absence from the encampment of the Sioux would have long since been noted. Oak Heart would be troubled by her absence. And they were a long way from the valley in which the Indian village lay.
Besides, they were marooned on this island in the middle of the river. The canoe was wrecked, and Cody shrank from making that long swim to the mainland again. Besides, he doubted the girl’s ability to accomplish such a task.
There was nothing to eat on this island, however, and food they must have before long. At least, the scout felt the need of it.
So he rose up very quickly from his recliningposture and went to the side of the island which faced the river-bank from which he had swum. It was already twilight, but he glanced sharply up and down the bank for some wandering party that might help them. The Indians might be searching for their canoes; he could not expect any of the freighters to come down so far as this, for the main trail turned off some miles above.
But not a soul appeared. The only living object on the river-bank which he saw was Chief, quietly grazing.
“Then our hope lies in you, faithful old horse!” cried Cody, and he uttered a shrill whistle.
The white horse raised his head, whinnied, and trotted down to the water’s edge. Buffalo Bill gave the call which he used when he desired Chief to come to him. The dumb brute understood, but he pawed the gravel at the river’s edge and seemed to hesitate. The distance across was wide, and the sullen current was strong. He had already been in it and had been almost swept away.
Buffalo Bill repeated his call. The horse threw up his head, neighed intelligently, and trotted down the riverside to the lower end of the island. There the current was not so swift. Without hesitation, this time, the noble horse plunged into the flood and swam with head high, and occasionally neighing at his master, toward the island. Being untrammeled by saddle or bridle, the creature handled himself remarkably well in the current, and forged ahead without being swept much out of his course by the stream.
When he came near the shore, however, Buffalo Bill was forced to rush in, cling to Chief’s mane, andguide the horse to land. There the brute climbed out and shook himself like a great dog.
“Ah! the white chief has control over even the ponies,” said the Indian maid, in admiration.
“And lucky he does,” muttered Buffalo Bill to himself. “Without old Chief we’d be roosting here till kingdom come!”
But he had to give the horse time to breathe before setting him at the current again. It was no easy pull across. Finally he led the white horse down into the water and gave the girl a boost upon his back, where she straddled him, clinging to his thick mane.
“Let him have his head,” Buffalo Bill commanded. “He won’t need any guidance, but will bring us both safe ashore.”
He urged Chief into the deep water, and swam by his side himself, resting a hand now and then on the beast’s shoulder, and encouraging him with his voice. Tired as they both were, man and beast found the pull tremendous. They were carried some distance down the river, but that did not so much matter. Only the water chilled Cody to the bone, and he had visions of rheumatism, that fell disease that lays hold upon the woodsman early in life because of exposure and privation.
It was somewhat of a battle to reach the shore, but they accomplished a landing at last, and White Antelope leaped down from Chief’s back and patted him.
“A brave horse, and worthy of carrying a brave man like Long Hair,” she declared.
“Give him a night’s rest,” said Cody, “and he’ll carry us both back to your father’s village.”
“The Long Hair was going there to redeem hispledge to me when I chanced to spy him?” queried White Antelope.
“I certainly was snooping about, looking for a chance to get through Bennett’s line of guards.”
“But you had been killing and scalping Oak Heart’s braves?”
“Not a one. I was there waiting for a chance to keep my promise to you,” said Buffalo Bill emphatically. “This renegade white was the fellow who was quietly knocking your young men in the head and scalping them. He was as bloodthirsty a wretch as ever went unhung. He’s dead now, thanks be!”
“Then Oak Heart will receive you with more friendliness,” said the girl.
“I dunno how friendly he’ll feel,” muttered Cody. “But I’ll take you back safe in the morning.”
They hastened to build a rousing camp-fire, and as soon as his undergarments were dry the scout put on his outer clothing and accouterments. Then with his rifle he stole away to a place where he had noted the marks of many creatures that had come down to drink, and there, just as the moon rose, found a doe with her fawn and shot the youngster. So they had a much needed late supper of roast kid. After which Cody insisted that the girl sleep.
As for himself, he sat up the livelong night, or paced the river-bank to keep awake. Just before daybreak he awoke the girl, and while she cooked breakfast he obtained an hour’s repose.
As they started from the river’s brink to ride ’cross country toward the range in which Oak Heart’s camp was situated, White Antelope said:
“My father’s braves will be out searching for me,mayhap. If they see White Antelope in the charge of a white man, they may try to shoot him. They may believe you were he who stole me away.”
“I’d been thinking of that,” said Cody reflectively. “I don’t want to get popped over for the wrong man, that’s sure. I reckon I’ll have to change my appearance a little.”
“How will the white chief do that?” she demanded, over his shoulder. She was riding behind him on the saddle.
“We’ll see when we come to that cave I’ve been staying in. I reckon I’ve got something there that may help me out. And I believe we shall be able to reach it without being molested.”
Chief bore them tirelessly all that day and far into the night. When they halted and built their fire they were within a few hours’ ride of the cave in the mountain from which Cody had overlooked Oak Heart’s camp. Seventy-two hours before he had left it to chase Boyd Bennett and rescue the Indian maiden. Much had happened since then both to the scout and in the Indian encampment.