Read Ebook: Wild Bill's Last Trail by Buntline Ned

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Ebook has 735 lines and 27123 words, and 15 pages

"Who says I don't?"

"Do they? Well, maybe I don't like him as well as I do a glass of brandy--maybe I have lost some one I loved by his hand. It isn't at all unlikely."

The traveler sighed, and with an anxious look, said:

"You don't bear him any grudge, do you? You wouldn't harm him?"

A strange look passes like a flash over the face of the other: he seemed to read the thoughts or wishes of the traveler in a glance.

"Oh, no," he said, with assumed carelessness. "Accidents will happen in the best families. It's not in me to bear a grudge, because Bill may have wiped out fifteen or twenty Texans, while they were foolin' around in his way. As to harm--he's too ready with his six-shooter, old Truth-Teller, he calls it, to stand in much danger. I'm quick, but he is quicker. You take a good deal of interest in him? Do you know him?"

"Yes; that is, I know him by sight. He is thought a great deal of by an intimate friend of mine, and that is why I feel an interest in him."

"And that friend is a woman?"

"Why do you think so?"

"It is a fancy of mine."

"Well, I will not contradict you. For her sake I would hate to see any evil befall him."

There was a cynical smile on the face of the young man with auburn hair.

"If a woman loved him, she ought, not to leave him, for his life is mighty uncertain," said the latter. "I heard him say to Captain Chichester, not half an hour ago, that he didn't believe he would live long, and such a man as he is sure to die with his boots on!"

"Did he say that?" asked the traveler.

"Yes; and he seemed to feel it, too. He had to do as I do, fire up with something strong to get life into his veins."

"Poor fellow! He had better have staid East when he was there, away from this wild and lawless section."

"Very likely; but you spoke of going to those Black Hills."

"Yes, I'm going."

"Will you let me go with you?"

"You don't look much like roughing it, and the trip is not only hard, but it may be dangerous. The redskins are beginning to act wolfish on the plains."

"I think I can stand as much hardship as you. You are light and slender."

"But tough as an old buffalo bull, for all that. I've been brought up in the saddle, with rifle and lasso in hand. I'm used to wind and weather, sunshine and storm--they're all alike to me."

"And Indians?"

"Yes--to Comanche, Kiowa, and Apache. But these Cheyennes and Sioux are a tougher breed, they tell me. I'll soon learn them too, I reckon. There's one thing sure, I don't go in no crowd of twenty or thirty, with wagons or pack mules along to tempt the cusses with, while they make the travel slow. You want either a big crowd or a very small one, if you travel in an Indian country.

"You have not answered my question yet. Will you let me go through to the Black Hills with you?"

"Why don't you go with the other party? They'll take you, I'll bet."

"I do not want to go where Wild Bill will see me. He may think his wife has sent me as a spy on his movements and actions."

"It is. He was married only a short time ago to a woman who almost worships him. She did all she could to keep him from going out into his old life again, but she could not."

"What is your name?"

"Willie Pond."

"No; I just came on the train from the East. But there is money--buy me a good horse, saddle, and bridle. I'll see to getting arms."

And Mr. Willie Pond handed the other a five-hundred dollar treasury note.

"You don't ask my name, and you trust me with money as if you knew I was honest."

"You'll tell me your name when you feel like it!" was the rejoinder. "As to your honesty, if I think you are safe to travel with, you're safe to trust my money with!"

"You're right. Your money is safe. As to my name, call me Jack. It is short, if it isn't sweet. Some time I'll tell you the rest of it."

"All right, Jack. Take your own time. And now get all ready to start either ahead or just behind the other party."

"We'll not go ahead. Where will you stay to-night?"

"Wherever you think best."

"All right. This old Dutchman keeps rooms for lodgers. You'd better stay here, and if you don't want Bill to see you, keep pretty close in doors. He'll be out in the Black Hillers' camp, or in the saloons where they sell benzine and run faro banks. Bill is death on cards."

"So I've heard," said Mr. Pond, with a sigh.

Jack now went out, and Pond called the Dutch landlord to him and engaged a room.

As soon as the auburn-haired man who called himself Jack had left the German restaurant, he went to a livery-stable near by, called for his own horse, which was kept there, and the instant it was saddled he mounted, and at a gallop rode westward from the town.

He did not draw rein for full an hour, and then he had covered somewhere between eight and ten miles of ground, following no course or trail, but riding in a course as straight as the flight of an arrow.

He halted then in a small ravine, nearly hidden by a growth of thick brush, and gave a peculiar whistle. Thrice had this sounded, when a man came cautiously out of the ravine, or rather out of its mouth. He was tall, slender, yet seemed to possess the bone and muscle of a giant. His eyes were jet black, fierce and flashing, and his face had a stern, almost classic beauty of feature, which would have made him a model in the ancient age of sculpture. He carried a repeating rifle, two revolvers, and a knife in his belt. His dress was buckskin, from head to foot.

"You are Persimmon Bill?" said Jack, in a tone of inquiry. "Yes. Who are you, and how came you by the signal that called me out?"

"A woman in town gave it to me, knowing she could trust me."

"Was her first name Addie?"

"Her last name was Neidic."

"All right. I see she has trusted you. What do you want?"

"Help in a matter of revenge."

"Good! You can have it. How much help is wanted?"

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