Buffalo Bill Entrapped; or, A Close CallIngraham, Prentiss
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Buffalo Bill Entrapped; or, A Close Call
Ingraham, Prentiss
Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917 -- Fiction; Dime novels
Buffalo Bill’s face was grave. “Do you know,” he said, “that Jared
Holmes was the brother of Matt Holmes, whose dead body lies out there in
the brush? The motive that prompted the killing of Jared was the same
that prompted the taking off of Matt. But I won’t go into details now.
Help me to get to your cabin, and after a while I’ll talk more.”
But there was no revelation that night. The king of scouts was in a
fainting condition when Angell’s cabin was reached. A second dressing to
his wound was given, and he was put to bed. Next morning he awoke with
mind clear and only a slight physical weakness.
After breakfast, he said: “I realize that you are anxious to know
exactly what happened at the cabin of Holmes, and I believe you will
work better after I have relieved your curiosity. By this you will
understand that there is work for you to do. The bodies down on the flat
must be buried. We are many hundreds of miles from a town and a coroner,
and so we must act as if we represented the government of the
Territory.”
Angell went outside, and presently appeared with a pick and shovel.
Resting the implements against the wall, he said as he came forward to
sit on a stool by Buffalo Bill’s bunk: “Go ahead. You aire ther judge
an’ I’m ther sheriff.”
“I was in Hayes City a few weeks ago,” the king of scouts began, “and
was figuring on going up to Laramie for a spell to look after my
interests near the place, when an old army friend, Major Kent, met me
and asked a service. A young woman, daughter of a West Point classmate,
was in town, and it was her desire to proceed at once to the cabin of
Matt Holmes, in these hills. The matter was important, and she needed a
guide and protector. Would I act in that double capacity? I did not give
an answer until I had taken a look at the young woman. Then I
capitulated. I have seen many pretty women, Bart, but none prettier than
Myra Wilton. And, best of all, she is as good as she is pretty. I would
have been a brute if I had not consented to take charge of her and see
her safely to her destination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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