Buffalo Bill's Ruse; Or, Won by Sheer Nerve

Deland and Denton, with their “stool-pigeon” prisoner, were not far away when this battle opened up.

Hatfield was piloting them to that “trap,” where he expected the sharpshooters would slay them. But when he heard the crack of those rifles, he recognized by the reports that they were the guns of some of the men he had thought were in the “trap.” That they were out there, firing, told him that something had gone wrong.

“Hear that?” he said.

“Yes,” said Denton; “what do you make of it?”

“Some kind of a fight, I reckon,” said Hatfield.

“You stay here, while I look into that, will ye?” said Deland. “From the sound of it, I’m jedgin’ that a battle is goin’ on that maybe we’re int’rested in, er might git int’rested in.”

Denton did not like to remain behind. He had no thought, though, that his sweetheart was over there where that shooting was going on, for he did not know where she was, except that he believed she was held by Panther Pete; and Hatfield had been professing to lead them to Panther Pete’s lair.

Hatfield looked uneasily in the direction of the firing. Deland was disappearing in that direction. Denton took out his revolver.

“Remember, no breaks!” he warned, when he saw the eager light in Hatfield’s eyes. “I’m licensed to shoot you, if you try any.”

Deland rode straight toward the firing, until he came within a comparatively short distance; and then he concealed his horse in a thicket and crept forward on foot, taking with him his precious “grip,” containing the rain-making materials so dear to his heart. He never let that out of his hands for long.

The outlaws had drawn together, finding one point from which they could fire best down into the hollow where Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill had taken concealment.

They could see nothing now but the rocks there, but they were shooting, nevertheless, hoping to hit something.

Deland was able to take advantage of this, the attention of the outlaws being drawn to that barricade of stones; and he crawled close up to them, being higher than they were, on the ridge behind them.

As he looked down he saw ten of the rascals, lying there behind the rocks, with their rifles pointed down at another group of rocks some distance below and on the opposite side of the narrow trail.

As he thus looked over, exposing himself, a rifle flamed in the barricade, and a bullet cut through his hat. He dropped flat, with remarkable celerity.

“Great floods!” he gurgled. “That rifleman came nigh gittin’ me. I’ll have to look out, or I’ll have my precious skull perf’rated. Wonder who’s doin’ that shootin’?”

It took him some time to make out; and he did not thoroughly understand the situation until he saw one of the outlaws walk out toward the barricade, waving a white flag, and saw Buffalo Bill come forth to meet him.

The outlaws had discovered that the scouts held Panther Pete a prisoner, and they wanted to confer, and negotiate for his release.

The bearer of the white flag had a proposition.

“Release Panther Pete, and we’ll stop our shootin’,” he said, “and we’ll git out of the country. You can keep the girl. Just give us up the prisoners you’ve got.”

“How did you know who we’ve got?” the scout demanded, somewhat surprised.

“One of us has got a field glass, and he saw Panther Pete and t’others down here. Surrender ’em to us, and we’ll cut out of this fight and leave the country.”

Buffalo Bill’s answer was a defiance.

“No,” he said; “come and get us!”

“We’ll wipe the whole of ye out, if you don’t surrender ’em,” the outlaw threatened.

“Proceed with the process,” said the scout. “We’ve got Panther Pete, and a fellow whose name is Garland, and we mean to hold them. If you want them badly, come and get them.”

The outlaw retired, and was no sooner behind the rocks than the sharpshooters opened again. But having discovered that their leader was held there, they were more careful, and their shooting did no damage.

More men were coming, for the outlaws had sent runners back to the camp, and these were hurrying up reënforcements.

Deland, from his post of observation, saw the arrival of these reënforcements.

“Great fish hooks!” he gasped. “This is ticklish bizness, and I reckon it’s down in the bills for some one to git hurt. Hope it ain’t goin’ to be me!”

Then he had an inspiration. He glanced at the sky, gray and cloudy, as if threatening rain.

“Guess it’s time!” he said; “I reckon that this here dry country is bad needin’ rain. I might try some more rain-makin’ experiments, only I hate to waste the material here that I intended to experiment with down in the town. But——”

He opened the “grip” he had brought, and, as he did so, heard a step behind him.

He turned, with one of the “bombs” in his hand, intending to hurl it at any foe he saw there, and was astonished to behold Denton.

“I couldn’t stay back there,” Denton whispered. “So I tied that villain, and came in, following you. Something’s doing down there.” He glanced up the trail. “Yes, and more men coming.”

“Buffalo Bill’s down there,” said Deland, “and they’ve been trainin’ their batteries on him. I think I seen the flutter of a woman’s dress down there, too, and——”

“Ellen!” gasped Denton, immensely excited.

“I dunno. Seems as though it may be. And there comes more reënforcements; so they’s goin’ to be a lively time round here mighty quick, and in the end the folks down there will be killed, I reckon.”

“We must go to their aid!” Denton panted, his eyes shining.

“Jes’ what I was thinkin’ o’ doin’! But don’t holler ’bout it and give ’em warning. See this here?” He held up the “rain bomb.” “And ye see them men down there?”

Denton nodded.

“Well, now you’ll see some fun, fer this ain’t ezactly ther same kind as I fired into the crowd in the town. This will wake ’em up.”

He lifted himself and hurled the bomb, with such true aim and force that it struck right in the midst of the hidden riflemen. There was a flash and a deafening roar, and a blinding cloud of white smoke covered everything.

Out of that white smoke men leaped, some of them tumbling and falling, all thoroughly frightened.

When the smoke lifted, three of them were seen dead on the ground, for the bomb this time had been a genuine one.

“Ho, ho!” chuckled Deland. “When I chip into a fight of this kind something’s happenin’ right off.”

The outlaws did not tarry there for their remaining reënforcements; they fled, vanishing into the hills.

Buffalo Bill and his companions were relieved thus quickly of their enemies, and the big battle they had anticipated was not fought.

Down in the town of Scarlet Gulch, less than a week later, Deland had an opportunity to try his rain-making bombs. He claimed the benefit of the “shower” that followed.

Before that time Buffalo Bill had landed his prisoners, and had added to them Bug-eye Slocum and saloon-keeper Rainey.

The fake Buffalo Bill had suddenly reached the end of his tether, and his “Border Ruffians,” who had fled ignominiously, were scattered throughout the hills.

THE END.