CHAPTER X
Stirred by the increasing boldness of the Indians, Stanley returnedwith his party to Medicine Bend to take further measures for thedefence of the railroad men.
Bucks, when he reported to Baxter, the train despatcher, found neworders waiting for him. He was directed to take charge of the stationat Goose Creek. The train did not leave till night, and Bucks tookadvantage of the interval to go uptown to make some necessarypurchases of linen and clothing. On his way back to the station,with his package under his arm, he saw, on the edge of the broadsidewalk, Harvey Levake. Levake was standing near a wooden-Indiancigar-store sign, looking directly at Bucks as the latter walkedtoward him. The operator, nodding as he came up, asked Levake,without parley, whether he would give him the money for theexpress charges on the cartridges.
If Bucks had exploded a keg of powder on the sidewalk there could nothave been a greater change in the outlaw's manner. He stared at Buckswith contempt enough to pierce the feelings of the wooden Indianbeside which he stood.
"What's that?" he demanded, throwing his head menacingly forward.
Bucks repeated his request, but so mildly that Levake took additionalumbrage at his diffidence.
"See here," he muttered in a voice beginning like a distant roll ofthunder and gathering force and volume as he continued, "don't insultme."
Bucks ventured to urge that he intended no insult.
"Don't insult me!" bellowed Levake in violent tones.
Again Bucks attempted to protest. It was useless. Levake insisted withincreasing wrath upon hugging the insult to himself, while Bucksstruggled manfully to get it away from him. And as Levake's loud wordsdid not attract as much attention up and down the street as he sought,he stamped about on the sidewalk. Bucks's efforts to pacify him madematters momentarily worse.
Meantime a crowd such as Levake desired had gathered and Bucks foundhimself a target for the outlaw's continued abuse, with nobody to takehis part. Moreover, the expressions on the faces about him now madehim realize his peril quite as much as anything in Levake's words. Itwas becoming painfully evident that the onlookers were merely waitingto see Levake shoot him down.
"No man in Medicine Bend can insult me and live," cried Levake,winding up a tirade of abuse. "I'm known from one end of this streetto the other. Nobody can spread lies in it about me."
He drew and flourished a revolver as he spoke. None in the crowdinterfered with so much as a word. But even before the outlaw hadfinished what he was saying, a man of medium size and easy mannerelbowed his way quietly through the circle of spectators, and, takingBucks by the arm, drew him back and faced Levake himself. It was BobScott.
"What's all this about, Levake?" demanded Scott gently.
Levake had no alternative but to turn his wrath upon the Indian scout.Yet those who knew him perceived that it was done without much stomachfor the job. Instead of growing momentarily greater the violence ofhis abuse now grew steadily less, and the thunder in his tones rolledfurther and further from the subject.
Half-turning to Bucks, Scott laid his hand on his arm again. "Excuseme," said he, deliberately and quietly, "but you are wanted quick atthe station. They are waiting for you. Go right along, will you?"
Only too glad to get away and comprehending Scott's ruse, Bucksexclaimed, "Why, of course, certainly," and stepping quickly into thecrowd walked away.
Turning again to Levake, Scott made no effort to check the torrent ofhis words. In consequence, the gambler found himself embarrassed bythe prospect of talking himself out. This would not have been so badexcept that his circle of admirers would, when he stopped talking,expect him to do something and he was now at a loss to decide justwhat to do. To shoot down Bucks was rather a different matter from apistol duel with Scott.
None of the street loafers about the two men knew Scott, nor did anyof them know that Levake had a prudent respect for Scott's trigger. Asfor Scott himself, a smile of contempt gradually covered his face ashe listened to Levake's outbreak. He only waited patiently for themoment, which he knew must come, when Levake should cease talking.
"Your tongue, Levake," returned Scott at last, "is longer than acoyote's. Why do you stand here and bellow about being insulted? Whatis all this noise about, anyway? These fellows," a contemptuous nodindicated the men standing around, "all know, if you don't. You'vebeen talking loud so you could get a crowd together and advertiseyourself by shooting an unarmed boy, haven't you?"
The desperado broke out in fresh denials and curses, but he fearedthe ridicule of the Indian would bring the laughter of his admirersdown on him. Nor was he keen to try a pistol duel. He remembered toowell the attack he had once headed on an emigrant train that Scott wasguarding, and from which the outlaws with Levake had carried away someunexpected and unwelcome bullets.
Scott, now taunting Levake openly, stepped directly in front of him.But the latter waved him away. "I'll settle my differences with youwhen I'm ready," he muttered. "If that fellow," he added, indicatingBucks, who was making record time across the square, "behaves himself,I'll let this go. If he doesn't, I'll fill him full of lead."
"When you do," retorted Scott, "remember just one thing--that I'mgoing to fill you full, Levake. Don't forget that."
Scott stepped backward. The crowd parted to let him through and Levakewalked sullenly toward the cigar store.
Bucks wiped the perspiration from his forehead when he reached thestation and drew a long breath. He waited until Scott crossed thesquare and joined him. The Indian only laughed when Bucks tried tothank him. "It is nothing," he said, "you are getting experience. Onlydon't tackle that man again till you give me notice beforehand."
The next morning Bucks installed himself at Goose Creek.
Goose Creek was a mere operating point and besides the rough woodenstation, with an attic sleeping-room for the operator, boasted only ahouse for the section crew--six men taken care of by a China boy cook.East of the station stood an old road ranch belonging to LeonSublette. For this, freight was at times unloaded and an Indian trailto the south led through the sand-hills as far as the Arickareecountry. North of the river greater sand-hills stretched as far as theeye could reach. The long, marshy stretches of the Nebraska River lostthemselves on the eastern and the western horizon and at times cloudsof wild fowl obscured the sun in their flight across the sky.
Dancing came down to the new station to complete the instalment of theinstruments and this broke for a day or two the loneliness of the newsurroundings. Indeed, there was hardly time to be lonely. The constantround of interest attending the arrival of trains with their longhalts, visits from trappers living at the ranch who were always readyto talk, and occasional calls from friendly Pawnees from the south,together with abundance of time for hunting the geese and ducks, madethe days go.
But one early summer morning Bucks woke to an adventure not upon hisdaily programme. He walked downstairs after dressing, and as hestepped out on the platform the sand-hills touched by the rising sunshone in the northwest like mountains of gold. Looking at them he sawto his surprise they were covered with black objects that appeared tobe moving.
Indians were first in his mind, and in his alarm he ran all the way tothe section-house where the foreman, after a hasty study of the hills,explained that the suspicious-looking objects were buffaloes.
This information only added to Bucks's excitement. The China boy cook,Lee Ong, at the section-house appeared equally stirred at thesituation and, after running in and out of the kitchen with muchfluttering of cue and clattering of wooden shoes, promised Bucks abuffalo steak for dinner if he would bring in a hindquarter.
By the time Bucks had finished breakfast the whole country to thenorth was black with buffaloes. For hours they poured over the divideto the delight of the astonished boy, and after a time he wired Baxterat Medicine Bend that a herd of at least one million buffaloes wascrossing the railroad at Goose Creek. As the grave despatcher seemednot greatly excited by this intelligence, Bucks followed up the storyat interva
ls with vivid details. A wag on the wire in Medicine Bendplayed upon his enthusiasm by demanding frequent bulletins, even goingso far as to ask the names of the leading buffaloes in the herd. Whenhe had got all the laughs possible for the office out of the youthfuloperator, he wired Bucks that if the herd should linger too long onthe right-of-way he must notify them that they would be held astrespassers.
This message had hardly reached Goose Creek when the China boy camerunning into the telegraph office. His eyes were staring, and his facewas greenish-white with fright. "Indians!" he exclaimed, running toBucks's side and dashing back again to the west window.
Bucks sprang to his feet. "Where?"
Lee Ong pointed to the northern sand-hills. Riding the broad slopesthat led toward the river, Bucks saw a long string of braves,evidently a hunting party. The cook, beside himself with fear, ran outof the station before Bucks could stop him.
"Hi there, Lee," cried the operator, running after him. "Where are thesection men?"
"Gone," cried Lee Ong, not ceasing to run, "all gone!" He pointed,with the words, to the east.
"Tell them to bring the hand-car down here!"
"Too much gone," shouted Ong. "Omaha!"
"Lee! Stop! Where are you going?"
Lee stopped only long enough to throw his right arm and forefingerwith an excited gesture toward the west.
"San Francisco, San Francisco!" he cried.
"Why, Lee," exclaimed Bucks running after him, "hold on! You arecrazy! San Francisco is fifteen hundred miles from here." Thisinformation did not visibly move Ong. "Indian no good," he cried,pausing, but only long enough to wave both hands wildly toward thesand-hills. "San Francisco good. No some more cook here. Indian cometoo quick"--Ong with his active finger girdled the crown of his headin a lightning-like imitation of a scalping knife--"psst! No good forOng!"
It would have seemed funny to Bucks if he had not been alreadyfrightened himself. But if the section men had fled with the hand-carit meant he would have to face the Indians. Lee Ong, running like mad,was already out of hearing, and in any event Bucks had no wish toimperil the poor China boy's scalp with his own.
He turned an anxious eye toward the sand-hills. Then realizing that onthe platform he was exposing himself needlessly, he hastened inside tohis key and called up Medicine Bend. It was only a moment, but itseemed to the frightened operator a lifetime before the despatcheranswered. Bucks reported the Indians and asked if there were anyfreight trains coming that he could make his escape on.
The despatcher answered that No. 11, the local freight, was then dueat Goose Creek and would pick him up and carry him to Julesburg if hefelt in danger. Bucks turned with relief to the east window and sawdown the valley the smoke of the freight already in sight. Never had afreight train looked so good to his eyes as it did at that moment. Hehailed its appearance with a shout and looked apprehensively backtoward the sand-hills.
The activity in that direction was not reassuring. The Indians, too,apparently had noticed the smoke of No. 11 trailing on the horizon. Aconference followed, illustrated by frequent pointing and violentgesticulating to indicate the coming train. Then with a suddenresolve the whole party rode rapidly out of the hills and down towardthe railroad.
Bucks's heart misgave him as he watched. But the cotton-woods growingalong the river hid the Indians from his eyes and he could not surmisewhat they were doing. The information all went to the despatcher,however, who, more experienced, scented serious mischief when Bucks'sbulletins now came in.
"Watch close," he wired. "It looks as if they were going to attack thetrain."
The operator's anxiety rose with the intimation. He ran out of doorsand down the track, but he could neither hear nor see a thing exceptthe slow-moving train with the smoke puffing from the awkward,diamond-stack locomotive moving peacefully toward the cotton-woodsthat fringed the eastern shore of Goose Creek. The very silence seemedominous. Bucks knew the Indians were hidden somewhere in thecotton-woods and felt that they could mean nothing but mischief. Heran back to his key and reported.
"They will surely attack No. 11," he wired. "I will run across thebridge and warn them."
"Where are the Indians?" demanded the despatcher.
"In the timber across the creek. I am starting."
"Don't be an idiot," returned the despatcher, with an expression ofWestern force and brevity. "They will lift your hair before you gethalf-way to the train. Stick to your key as long as you can. If theystart to cross the creek, leg it for the ranch. Do you get me?"
Bucks, considerably flurried, answered that he did, and the despatcherwith renewed emphasis reiterated his sharp inquiry. "Do youunderstand, young fellow? If they start to cross the creek, leg it forthe ranch or you'll lose your hair."
Bucks strained his eyes looking for a sign of movement across thebridge. The cotton-woods swayed gently in the light breeze, butrevealed nothing of what they hid.
The freight train continued to crawl lazily along, its crews quiteunconscious of any impending fate. Bucks, smothering with excitementand apprehension, saw the engine round the curve that led to thetrestle approach of the bridge. Then the trees hid the train from hissight.
"What are they doing?" demanded the despatcher, growing apprehensivehimself. An appalling crash from the woods electrified Bucks, and thekey rattled fast.
"They have wrecked the train," he wired without an instant'shesitation. "I can hear the crash of cars falling from the trestle."
Before he could finish his message he heard also the screech of anengine whistle. The next instant the locomotive dashed out of thewoods upon the bridge at full speed and with cries of disappointmentand rage the savages rode out to the very bank of the creek and intothe water after it. Bucks saw the sudden engine and thought at firstthat the train had escaped. The next moment he knew it had not. Theengine was light: evidently it had passed in safety the trap laid forits destruction, but the cars following had left the rails.
If confirmation of this conclusion had been needed, it came when heran out upon the platform as the engine approached. Bucks wavedvigorous signals at it, but the ponderous machine came faster insteadof slower as it neared the station, and, with Bucks vainly trying toattract the attention of the engineman or fireman, the locomotivethundered past at forty miles an hour.
He caught one glimpse through the tender gangway as the engine dashedby and saw both men in the cab crouching in front of the furnace doorto escape the fancied bullets of the savages. Bucks shouted, but knewhe had been neither seen nor heard, and, as the engine raced into thewest, his best chance of escape from an unpleasant situation haddisappeared almost before he realized it.
Each detail was faithfully reported to the despatcher, who answered atonce.
"Relief train," he wired, "now making up with a hundred men. Hold onas long as you can, but take no chances. What are they doing? Can yousee or hear them?"
"They are yelling so you could hear them a mile."
"Scout around a little," directed the despatcher, "but don't getcaught."
Bucks scouted around the room a little, but did not venture this timefarther than the windows. He was growing very nervous. And theIndians, unrestrained in their triumph, displayed themselveseverywhere without concealment. Helpless to aid, Bucks was compelledto stand and see a fleeing white man, the brakeman of the doomedtrain, running for his life, cut down by the pursuers and scalpedbefore his eyes.
The horror and savagery of it sank deeply into the boy's heart andonly the realization of his utter inability to help kept him quiet.Tears of fury coursed down his cheeks as he saw in the distance themurdered man lying motionless on the sand beside the track, and withshaking fingers he reported the death to Medicine Bend.
"The relief train has started," answered the despatcher, "withStanley, Scott, Sublette, Dancing, and a hundred men."
As the message came, Bucks heard shooting farther up the creek andthis continued at intervals for some moments. It was sickening tohear, for it meant, Bucks surmised, tha
t another trainman was beingmurdered.
Meantime the Indians that he could see were smashing into the wreckedmerchandise cars and dragging the loot out upon the open prairie.Hats, clothing, tobacco, provisions, camp supplies of every sort, andmusical instruments, millinery, boots, and blankets were among theplunder. The wearing apparel was tumbled out of the broken cases and,arrayed in whatever they could seize, the Indians paraded on theirhorses up and down the east bank of the creek in fantastic show.
Some wore women's hats, some crinoline hoop-skirts over theirshoulders; others brandished boots and shirts, and one glisteningbrave swung a banjo at arm's-length over his flying horse's head.Another party of the despoilers discovered a shipment of silks andsatins. These they dragged in bolts from the packing-cases and, tyingone end of a bolt of silk to their ponies' tails, they raced,yelling, in circles around the prairie with the parti-colored silksstreaming behind, the bolts bobbing and jerking along the ground likerioting garlands of a crazy May-pole dance. And, having exhaustedtheir ingenuity and robed themselves in this wise in all manner ofplunder, they set fire to the wrecked train, singing and dancing inhigh glee as the flames rose crackling above the trees.
Bucks, with clenched hands, watched and prayed for the arrival of thespeeding relief train. The moments passed with leaden feet and thetrain had many miles to come. The despatcher continued his encouragingmessages, but did not cease his words of caution, and, as the wreckageburned, Bucks perceived the Indians were riding in great numbers upthe creek. Too late he realized what it meant. They were looking forthe ford and were about to cross to his side.