Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and CowboyIngraham, Prentiss
General
Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy
Ingraham, Prentiss
Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917 -- Fiction; Dime novels; Indians of North America -- Fiction; Scouts (Reconnaissance) -- Fiction
“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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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