He was carrying the military mail and dispatches from one fort to another, and his mission was an exceedingly dangerous one, for it was known that the Indians in Kansas and the neighboring territory were on the point of rising to attack the whites, if they had not already risen.
Many reports had been received from scouts2 familiar with the Indians which showed that an alliance was being arranged between several of the tribes with the object of going on the warpath in numbers strong enough, as they imagined, to enable them to bid defiance3 to Uncle Sam’s troopers, even though the latter were armed with the quick-firing “devil guns” so much feared by the redskins.
The scout who was riding across country was, with one exception, the most remarkable4 man of his class at that time in the West.
He was none other than our old friend Wild Bill, and it need hardly be added that the exception alluded5 to was his great friend and comrade, Colonel William F. Cody, better known as “Buffalo Bill,” the king of the scouts.
As he rode along, mounted upon a magnificent mustang, Wild Bill was a splendid, fearless figure that it would have done the heart of any brave man good merely to look upon.
In person he was about six feet one inch in height, and, as has been described by his friend, General George A. Custer, “straight as the straightest of the Indian warriors6 whose implacable foe7 he was.” He had broad shoulders, well-formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly handsome. His sharp, clear blue eyes were used to looking any man straight in the face, whether that man were friend or foe. His nose was a fine aquiline8, and his mouth well shaped, with lips partly concealed9 by a handsome mustache.
His hair and complexion10 were those of a perfect blond—fair as a Saxon viking. He wore the former in long, flowing ringlets, which fell carelessly over his powerfully formed shoulders. Riding his horse as if he were part of the animal, he looked a perfect type of physical manhood.
He had galloped13 for about twenty miles, when he stopped on a small hill overlooking a valley through which a river ran.
He cast a quick glance around the landscape to see if any foes14 were in sight, and his eyes immediately fell upon a band of about fifty Indians not more than a third of a mile away.
They saw him almost at the same moment, and immediately jumped on their horses, from which they had dismounted with the idea of watering them in the river, and gave chase.
Wild Bill waited until they came near enough to enable him to see what tribes they belonged to, and[7] whether they were dressed in their war paint. When he had satisfied his doubts on those scores, and found out that they were really on the warpath, he hastily turned his mustang to make a ride for life. But before he galloped off, he lifted his rifle and shot the foremost of the Indians through the head.
As the brave tumbled from his horse, his comrades gave a yell of rage. Wild Bill responded by turning in the saddle and waving his sombrero toward them defiantly15.
They fired a scattering16 volley, but the bullets whizzed harmlessly around him. Riding over uneven17 ground, the Indians could not take accurate aim.
The scout was riding a splendid mustang, and the gallant18 animal fully11 understood what was expected of him. He knew that it was a ride for life, and that he must put forth19 his greatest speed to save his master from death and himself from an Indian owner—a fate terrible to any decent horse.
He crossed a wide ravine and tore along the valley toward Fort Larned.
Reaching a ridge20 beyond, Wild Bill looked back for a moment and saw that the Indians were tearing after him. They rode at great speed, and many of them were evidently well mounted.
“Their own ponies21 can’t travel like that,” said the scout to himself. “They must have done some raiding before this, and got hold of some of the settlers’ animals. The rising we’ve been looking for has broken out, sure. Them folks at the fort must be put on their guard, whatever happens. I guess the whole country will be ablaze22 in a couple of days.”
If he had been mounted on a fresh horse, Wild Bill would have had no doubt of the outcome of the race; but his mustang, splendid animal though he was, had already ridden far, and showed signs of flagging.
The Indians began to gain on their quarry23 for a time, and then the mustang made a spurt24 and shot ahead again. But the effort was too great for him, and he could not keep up his speed for long.
When he had run about three miles farther, half a dozen of the Indians had crept up to within two or three hundred yards, while several of the other braves were not far behind.
Now and then they fired at him, but their rifles were of inferior quality and their aim was bad, so that neither the scout nor his horse was touched.
The Indians seemed to be shortening the distance from their prey25 at every stride, but Wild Bill bent26 over in his saddle and whispered to his mustang: “Get up, old man!”
It was the first effort he had made to urge the animal to greater speed, and immediately he exerted himself to the very utmost, drawing slowly away from the Indians for the next three or four miles.
But there was a limit to the mustang’s power of endurance, if not to his will.
The Indians were nearly as well mounted as Wild Bill, and their steeds were comparatively fresh. One of them in particular—a spotted27 animal—kept gaining all the time. The others were strung out behind in a long line for a distance of more than a mile, but they were all riding as hard as they knew how, for they wanted to be “in at the death.”
The brave riding the spotted horse was armed with a rifle, and as he drew within a hundred yards he occasionally sent a bullet whizzing unpleasantly close to Wild Bill.
The scout saw that this Indian must be stopped, or a stray shot from his gun might do fatal harm to his mustang or himself.
Suddenly reining28 up his horse and wheeling him around, Wild Bill raised his rifle to his shoulder and took a quick aim at the brave.
The Indian was not more than sixty yards off, and as Wild Bill’s rifle cracked he reeled and fell from his saddle.
Without waiting to see whether his enemy was dead or only wounded, the scout wheeled his horse around and fairly flew in the direction of Fort Larned.
He would have liked to stop and take a few shots at the other Indians as they came dashing toward him, but he realized that his first duty was to carry a warning to the fort. He had no right to play with his life when such a duty as that was placed upon him.
It was true that fifty Indians could do nothing against the strong body of troops stationed at the fort, but, if they succeeded in killing29 him, they would certainly not ride on for that place.
They would wait until reënforced by a much stronger party, and then perhaps carry the fort by surprise if the garrison30 had not received a timely warning.
Wild Bill realized these facts, and resolved that he must curb31 his natural propensity32 to fight, and run away instead—a thing he always hated to do, however great might be the number of the enemies opposed to him.
While he was engaged in shooting their leader, the other Indians had gained upon him, and they sent several shots whizzing after him as he resumed his flight. Now and then he turned in the saddle and returned their fire, shooting two of the foremost horses as they drew near him.
“Buffler Bill would shoot the blamed varmints through the head if he was here,” muttered the scout, “but I’m not sure as how I could do that with a snap aim at a gallop12. Anyhow, I can’t run the risk, so I’ll shoot the durned cayuses instead.”
The redskins kept up the pursuit until they were within about three miles of the fort. One of the outposts saw them chasing the scout over the prairie and promptly33 gave the alarm, for a vigilant34 watch was being maintained at that critical time.
As Wild Bill rode up, several of the soldiers mounted in hot haste and rode to his rescue. The Indians saw this, and promptly turned on their trail to ride back as quickly as they had come.
A lieutenant35, with thirty or forty men behind him, galloped in pursuit, while Wild Bill rode into the fort to make his report to the commandant.
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1
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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7
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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14
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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16
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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17
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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28
reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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29
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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31
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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32
propensity
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| n.倾向；习性 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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34
vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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35
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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