In an instant Bill's friends, who had looked in wonder at this strange scene, sprang to his aid, and, lifting his unconscious form, carried it into the saloon where Bill had met Californian Joe, Captain Jack, and the rest of their crowd.
Left alone, the young Texan said a few words to Addie Neidic, then dismounted and told the stable-keeper to keep that horse saddled and bridled, and to get his own Texan mustang ready for use.
"I must be out of town before sunrise, or Wild Bill and his friends may have questions to ask that I don't want to answer just now," he said.
And then, he walked a little way with Miss Neidic, talking earnestly. But soon he left her, and while she kept on in the direction of her own house, he turned and went to the German restaurant.
Entering the room of Willie Pond, he said, abruptly:
"If you want to go to the Black Hills with me on your own horse we'll have to leave this section mighty sudden. Wild Bill has set his mind on having the horse I bought and broke for you, and he has a rough crowd to back him up."
"If I had known Bill wanted the horse so badly I could have got along with another," said Pond, rather quietly.
"What! let him have the horse? Why it hasn't its equal on the plains or in the mountains. It is a thoroughbred–a regular racer, which a sporting man was taking through to the Pacific coast on speculation. He played faro, lost, got broke, and put the horse up for a tenth of its value. I got him for almost nothing compared to his worth. On that horse you can keep out of the way of any red who scours the plains. If you don't want him I do, for Wild Bill shall never put a leg over his back!"
"I'll keep him. Don't get mad. I'll keep him and go whenever you are ready," said Pond, completely mastered by the excitement which this young Texan exhibited.
"Well, we'll get the horses out of town and in a safe place to-night. And for yourself, I'll take you to the house of a lady friend of mine to stay to-night and to-morrow, and by to-morrow night I'll know all I want to about the movements of the other party, and we can move so as to be just before or behind them, as you and I will decide best."
"All right, Jack. I leave it to you. Are you sure the horse will be safe for me to ride?"
"Yes. A horse like that once broken is broken for life. They never forget their first lesson. A mongrel breed, stupid, resentful, and tricky, is different. Be ready to mount when I lead him around, I will send for your traveling-bag, and you will find it at the house where we stop."
"I will be ready," said Pond.
The Texan now left, and Pond watched him as he hurried off to the stable.
"The man hates Wild Bill with a deadly hatred!" he murmured. "I must learn the cause. Perhaps it is a providence that I have fallen in with him, and I have concluded to keep his company to the Black Hills. But I must call the landlord and close up my account before the other comes back with the horses."
The German was so put out by the sudden giving up of a room, which he hoped to make profitable, that he asked an extra day's rent, and to his surprise, got it.
* * *
CHAPTER VI.
OFF TO THE HILLS.
It was some time before Wild Bill became fully conscious after he was carried into the saloon, and when he did come to he raved wildly about the red-haired man he shot in Abilene, and insisted it was his ghost, and not a real man, he had seen.
Bill's friends tried to cheer and reassure him, and got several stiff draughts of liquor down his throat, which finally "set him up." as they said, till he began to look natural. But he still talked wildly and strangely.
"I told you, Joe," he said to his old friend; "I told you my time was nigh up. This hasn't been my first warning. That Abilene ghost has been before me a thousand times, and he has hissed that same word, 'sister,' in my ear."
"Bah! old boy. What's the use of your talking foolish. You've seen no ghost. That red-haired chap was as live as you are."
"He did have red hair and blue eyes, then?"
"Yes; but there are lots of such all over the world. Red hair and blue eyes generally travel in company. But he was nothing to scare you. You could have wiped him out with one back-handed blow of your fist, let alone usin' shootin' irons, of which there wasn't 'casion, seein' he didn't draw."
"Where is he now?"
"I'll go and see. I suppose he is over at the stable."
Joe went out, but soon returned to say that the Texan had just ridden off, after paying his bill; the stable-keeper did not know where.
"Let him go," murmured Bill. "If he is a man, and not a ghost, I wouldn't raise a hand to hurt him, not for all the gold in the Black Hills. He was so like–so like the chap I dropped in Abilene!"
Bill took another drink, but it seemed as if nothing could lift the gloom which weighed down his heart. Only once did his face brighten. That was when Sam Chichester said there was no use hanging on at Laramie any longer for a bigger crowd; they were strong enough now, and would start for the Hills inside of four-and-twenty hours.
"That's the talk for me!" cried Bill. "I want to get out of here as soon as I can, Joe, and pick me out some sort of a horse. I don't care what, so it'll carry me to the Hills, I can't breathe free any longer where there's such a lot of folks."
"I'll get you a first-chop horse, Bill," said Joe. "There's some half-breeds in a corral just out of town, as tough as grizzlies, and heavy enough for your weight or mine."
"I don't weigh down, as I did," said Bill, with a sigh. "I've been losin' weight for six months back. No matter. It'll be less trouble to tote me when I go under. Remember, boys, when I do, bury me with my boots on, just as I die."
"Stop your clatter about dyin', Bill. I'm sick o' that kind of talk. It's time enough to talk of death when its clutch is on you."
"I can't help it, Joe, old pard. It keeps a stickin' in my throat, and if it didn't come out, I'd choke."
"Let's go to camp," said Chichester. "Can you walk now, Bill?'
"Yes."
And the party rose, took a parting drink with the landlord, and started for camp.
Outside, Bill gave a startled, wild glance toward the spot where he had seen the Texan; but no one was there now, and he moved on with his companions toward their camp, listening to, but not joining in their conversation.
On arriving at camp, Chichester, as captain, gave orders that each man should report on paper, or verbally, so it could be taken down, just how much ammunition he had, the number and kind of his arms, private stores, etc., so that if there was not enough to make the trip safely, more could be provided. The number and condition of horses, pack-mules, etc., was also to be given.
No man would be fitted to lead such a party did he not consider and post himself fully in all these particulars.
Quite a crowd of townspeople followed the party out, for the news soon spread that they intended to leave in a short time; so around their blazing camp-fire there were many visitors. Toward these Wild Bill cast many a stealthy glance, but he did not see the red-haired Texan there.
* * *
CHAPTER VII.
THE OUTLAW'S LOVE.
Willie Pond was much surprised when he found that his ride only extended to a small but pretty cottage just on the outskirts of the town, where the young Texan, introducing him to Miss Neidic as his temporary hostess, left him while he took the horses to a safe place of concealment not far away.
Miss Neidic look her new visitor into the rear sitting-room, and while giving him a cordial welcome, and passing the usual salutations, scanned him with a keen and critical eye. The impression left must have been rather favorable, for the lady seemed to feel none of the embarrassment usual when strangers held a first interview, but talked on as easily and naturally as if she had known him half a lifetime.
"How long have you been in town, Mr. Pond?" was one of her many questions.
"Only a day. I arrived on the express, westward bound, which passed this morning," was the answer.
"Why, that was the same train the desperado, Wild Bill came
on."
"Yes, he was pointed out to me by the conductor. But why do you call him a desperado?"
"Because that is his character."
"I thought none but outlaws were celled desperadoes."
"There is where the mistake comes in. Most outlaws are desperadoes, but a man can be a desperado, and yet not an outlaw. If to be always ready to shoot for a look or a word–whether his opponent is ready or not–is not being a desperado. I do not know what is. But excuse me. He may be a friend of yours."
"Oh, no," said Pond, with some confusion in his manner. "But a very dear friend of mine married him not long since, and for her sake I feel a sort of interest in the man. I fancied that he was rather wild when under the influence of liquor, but for all, a brave and generous man, when truly himself."
"Brave, as brutes are, when he feels he has the power to kill in his hands; but generous? Never!" said Miss Neidic.
"You are his enemy."
"No; for he has never done me, personally, an injury; but he has injured friends of mine–sent more than one down to untimely graves."
"There, I said it–you are his enemy, because of what he has done to your friends.
"I am not his friend, nor do I wish to be the friend of such a man. But the enmity of a woman is nothing to him. He looks for friends among such men as he now consorts with–California Joe, Sam Chichester, and that crowd. I know but one real gentleman in the party, and that one is Jack Crawford."
"I know none of them."
"You lose nothing, then, for it is little honor one gains by such acquaintances. They suit Wild Bill, for they drink, gamble, and shoot on little cause; they are ready for any adventure, never stopping to count risks or look back when evil is commenced or ruin wrought, no matter what may be its nature."
The entrance of the young Texans now caused a change in the topic of conversation.
"I have learned when that party start." he said. "They are making their final preparations to-night, and will break camp in this morning early enough to make Twenty-mills Creek for their first night's halt–probably about ten o'clock."
"Do you propose to go ahead of them?" asked Pond.
"No; it will be more easy and safe to fellow their trail. They will not have over fifty animals all told, and there will be lots of feed left for us even if we keep close by. And we can get as much game as we need any time, for we can use but little. One pack horse will carry all our stuff, and still be able to travel at speed, if need be."
"You understand it better than I," said Pond. "Arrange things to suit yourself, and I will conform to your plans."
"All right. You had better turn in early, so as to get a good rest. For after we are out, long rides and night-watches will tell on you, for you are not used to them."
"I will show you to a chamber, your valise is already in it," said Miss Neidic.
Mr. Pond followed her, and the Texan was left alone to his thoughts, which he carelessly expressed aloud.
"So far all works well," he said. "Mr. Willie Pond is as soft as mush; but I've read him through and through. He wouldn't go with me if he didn't think he'd have a chance to serve Wild Bill, for, though he shuns Bill, he thinks more of Bill than he would have me think, I'll bet Addie has found that out."
"Found out what?" said the lady herself, who had returned so noiselessly that Jack had not heard her.
"That Mr. Pond, as he calls himself, is a friend of Wild Bill's."
"All of that, and maybe something more, as you may find out before you are through your trip."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing but this–keep your eyes open, and study your Mr. Pond closely."
"There is nothing dangerous about him?"
Miss Neidic laughed heartily.
"Nothing very dangerous to you, at any rate," she said; "but if they all go in the morning, we must see Persimmon Bill to-night."
"That is so. Shall I bring the horses round?"
"No. We might be overheard. I will go to the stables. Get the horses ready. I have some things to put up for Bill, and I will come as soon as I pack them in a pair of saddle-bags."
Jack now left for the stable, and Miss Neidic, with a woman's forethought, began to gather up many little things which might be useful to her outlaw lover, who had little chance to procure articles of comfort, not to speak of luxury, except when on some raid in the settlements.
In ten minutes she was ready and on her way to the stables.
Jack had her own favorite horse saddled, while for himself he chose the Black Hawk beauty.
In a few seconds both were mounted, and in the darkness they sped away over the same route which Jack had taken when he went to visit Persimmon Bill.
Little was said as they rode on, for the horses were kept at a swift gallop, and before the hour was up they had approached the ravine as near as they deemed safe before giving the signal.
Scarcely was it given before it was answered, and a second later Persimmon Bill himself was by the side of Addie Neidic's horse, and she was pressed to the outlaw's bosom with a fervor that showed he had a heart more than half-human left in his breast.
"It's kind of you, Addie, to come out here in the chill of the night to see a wild cuss like me, outlawed by man, and forsaken by Heaven!"
"It's safer to come by night than by day, for you and for me, Bill," she said. "And I couldn't bear you should go away again till I had seen you. And I've brought you a lot of things I know you'll need."
"I shall not need much of anything, Addie, on the trail I'm soon to take. Your friend here I know is safe, or I wouldn't say so much. But the truth is, the reds are going to rise in a body all over the north and northwest, and we'll sweep the Black Hills, and clean out every 'blue-coat' that is sent to check the rising. The Sioux have made me a big chief, and I'll have my hands full. If you hear of the 'White Elk,' as second only to Sitting Bull himself, you'll know who it is."
"You, of course!"
"Yes, Addie; that is the name they have given me. And if the Sioux fight as I think they will, and all the northern tribes join, we'll force a treaty that will give us all the Black Hills and the Yellowstone, Powder River, and Big Horn Country for ourselves forever. Then, my girl, and not till then, can I make a safe home for you, and not till then will I ask you to be my wife. For then the outlaw will be safe, and can live in peace, and look for days of home and happiness."
"Bill, when you ask it, be it in peace or war, I am yours. You are brave as the bravest, and had you never been treated wrongfully, would not now be a hunted outlaw. I love you, and you know it."
"Yes, Addie, and I love you too well to ask you to share my lot till I can see some sunshine. But this stranger has news for me."
Persimmon Bill turned to the Texan, who had drawn his horse away a little, so as not to intrude on the conversation between the lovers.
"I have the news you asked for," said Jack. "The party, all told, who will start at nine or ten in the morning, and camp twenty miles out to-morrow, number twenty-nine men, all well armed, the most of them with repeating rifles and six-shooters. Half of them are old scouts, the rest are miners, gamblers, and a couple of them are traders. They have fifty animals, saddle and pack, and carry no wagons. The mules are loaded pretty heavy, at least them that belong to the traders, and are well worth capture."
"All right, And there is one of the party you don't want hurt until he is in your hands?"
"Yes, that man is Wild Bill. I want him in my power so that I may see him die slowly, surely, awfully!"
"There is another man in that party, Bill, who mustn't be hurt. He did me a kindness once, down at Cheyenne–saved me from insult and wrong. His name is Crawford–Captain Jack, they call him!"
"Yes, I know him. No harm shall befall him, if I can help it."
"Thank you, Bill; you needn't be jealous of him, for it is only what he did that makes me ask a favor for him!"
"I know it, Addie."
"No woman on earth can make me jealous of you.
I've too much confidence in your truth and love. But you'll not attack the party anywhere near here?"
"No, not till they are far beyond all the military posts. I want no pursuit when I do my work. Our animals are in good order for the war-path now, and I want to keep them so. I'm drilling my braves at every chance, so as to fit them to meet such men as Crook, Custer, and Carr. All they want is drill and discipline to make them the best soldiers in the world, and they're coming into it finely."
"Well, you were a soldier yourself long enough to know all that should be done."
"A soldier too long, girl–too long a slave to men who held authority only to abuse it," said Bill, in a bitter tone. "The cruelty exercised on me then turned my best blood to gall, and made me what I am. I hate the name, and my blood boils beyond all restraint when my eye falls upon a uniform. Rightly have the Sioux called me the "Soldier Killer," for never do I let one who wears the button escape if he comes within my reach. But you must not stay too long. Good-night–I will not say good-by, for we will meet again."
"Good-night, Bill."
"One word to your friend here," added the outlaw. "Follow the trail of Chichester, about three hours back, whenever he moves. I will probably, for three or four days, be about as far behind you. On the night of the third or fourth day out, or, if it is bad weather for travel, a day or two later, I will surround you, and take you and your friend prisoners, to all appearances. But of course no harm will come to you, and you will be free when the other work is done. Then I will close up and wipe out Chichester's gang, saving the two who are to be spared. Then I will be ready for the war-path, for I need the arms and ammunition these people have to finish arming the drilled marines who are specially under me."
"All right, sir; we understand each other," said the Texan, wheeling his horse to take the back trail.
Addie Neidic, as if from some uncontrollable reason, turned once more toward her lover, and bending from her saddle, threw her arms about his tall and splendid form, and kissed him again and again with passionate tenderness.
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