Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer Part 12

"It was a very close call for you, Doc."

"A close call indeed, and, but for the shadows on the cliff, revealing the hostility of my two pa.s.sengers, my death would have followed. But my discovery of their intention, and quickness in facing them, disconcerted them both, destroying their aim, close as they were to me."

"They did not fire again?"

"Oh, yes; several shots, two of which killed my wheelers; but I got in my work by firing two shots, also."

"Killing them?"

"Yes, for you will find my bullet-brands in their foreheads. The horses had started forward at the shots, and as the wheelers fell, the coach gave a lurch which sent the two men from the top to the ground just as I fired on them.

"I quieted my team, and first bound my arm up as tightly as I could to stop the flow of blood, and then, dismounting, picked up the two dead men, threw them into the coach, and drove on.

"Of course my wounded arm gave me more and more trouble, and I could drive only very slowly with one hand, and hence my delay in arrival. But I got in without being robbed, which I am very glad of, for there is a large registered mail on this run.

"Now I will have Loo Foo fetch me some supper and retire, for I am about played out, and you can search the two men and let me know the result in the morning. But one minute--how is my patient?"

"Bodily all right, but his mind, as you said would be the case, is gone."

"Poor fellow! Good night, Larry, and hurry Loo Foo over with my supper, please."

Landlord Larry bade Doctor d.i.c.k good night and departed, more than ever impressed with the idea that the gold king gambler was a very remarkable man.

Going to his hotel Landlord Larry found nearly every denizen of Last Chance awaiting him, and a suppressed excitement was apparent in all.

The two bodies had been taken into the hotel office, to await the coming of the landlord, and there they lay covered with a blanket. The moment Landlord Larry was seen, coming from the cabin of Doctor d.i.c.k, cries arose of:

"Speech! speech!

"Tell the news, landlord!" and so on.

Larry mounted to the piazza of the hotel and in a few words told the story of Doctor d.i.c.k's running the gantlet and the nerve he had shown in the ordeal he had pa.s.sed through.

"Oh, he's got ther narve of Old Nick, as we all knows," cried a miner, and this intended compliment was acquiesced in by one and all.

Having learned the news the miners adjourned to the saloons and the toasts for the next few hours were to:

"Doctor d.i.c.k, a man o' narve from Wayback."

Until a late hour the miners drank and gambled, and then, toward dawn, quiet reigned in the camps, broken only now and then by a yell from some man who was too full of liquor to go to sleep.

The next morning, greatly to the delight of all, Doctor d.i.c.k appeared at breakfast and received an ovation. Loo Foo had dressed his wounded arm, and though sore, it was all right, Doctor d.i.c.k said, yet he was pale from loss of blood.

After breakfast he mounted his horse and took the rounds to see his patients, and everywhere he was greeted with a welcome that could not but flatter him.

But the two weeks before date for the return of the coach--for the runs were semimonthly--pa.s.sed away and no driver appeared from W---- to take the stage out. It began to look very much as though Doctor d.i.c.k would have to again take the reins.

The search of the dead bodies of the two road-agents had revealed nothing as to their ident.i.ty, for, excepting their weapons, a little money, some odds and ends in their pockets, they had nothing of value about them, and they were buried at the expense of Doctor d.i.c.k, who would have it so, as he very laconically remarked:

"As I killed them, I should pay their expenses when they are unable to do so."

At last the day for the starting of the coach came round, and Doctor d.i.c.k, as no one else volunteered, expressed his willingness to take the reins, though he remarked:

"This will be the last run I shall make, so you must get a man here, Landlord Larry, to go, if I do not bring one back with me from W----."

And once more Doctor d.i.c.k rolled away with a cheer from his admirers.

CHAPTER XIII.

A VOLUNTEER.

Doctor d.i.c.k had an uneventful run to W----, and arrived without accident or delay on time at the end of his journey. He was well received, but the stage-agent told him that not a volunteer had put in an appearance for the place of driver. Double the price had been offered, but there were no takers, and the agent added:

"You must find some daredevil at Last Chance who is willing to risk his life upon the box, while rest a.s.sured, Doctor d.i.c.k, I have reported your n.o.ble service for the company in its need and it will be appreciated."

"I do not care for pay, or thanks, only I wish to be relieved of a duty I do not like, especially as it interferes with my own work," was the answer.

Just before the time came for the starting of the coach a horseman rode up and dismounted at the stage office. He was an odd-looking individual, tall, but with a hump on his back, awkward in gait, and dressed in buckskin leggings and hunting-s.h.i.+rt.

His hair was long, very long, bushy, and would have been white but for its soiled appearance, and he had it cropped, or banged in front like an Indian, or fas.h.i.+onable young miss, to keep it out of his eyes.

His face was clean-shaven, but the hue of leather, and he wore a pair of iron-rimmed spectacles.

His slouch-hat was worn in reality, for the rim fell down upon his shoulders, save in front where the flap was turned up and fastened with an army-b.u.t.ton.

He was armed with a pair of old, but serviceable revolvers, an ugly-looking bowie-knife with a deer-horn handle, and a combined rifle and shotgun, double-barreled.

His horse was as queer as his master in appearance, being a large, raw-boned animal, with patches of hair upon him, a long tangled mane and tail, and he was unshod, though his hoofs looked as tough as iron.

The saddle was also a back number, and the stake-rope served for a bridle as well. A lariat hung at the saddle-horn, also a hatchet, and in a large rubber blanket was rolled his bedding, while a bag contained a coffee-pot, frying-pan, tin cup, plate, and some provisions.

He looked the crowd over as he drew rein, and asked quietly:

"Who's boss o' this layout?"

"I am," and the stage-agent stepped forward.

"I hears thet yer wants a man ter drive yer old hea.r.s.e on ther trail ter Last Chance and back."

"I do."

"I'm yer huckleberry."

"You?"