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Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Buffalo Bill,
the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
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laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy

Author: Prentiss Ingraham

Release date: July 14, 2020 [eBook #62638]

Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Craig Kirkwood, and the

Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUFFALO BILL,

THE BORDER KING; OR, REDSKIN AND COWBOY ***
 Transcriber’s Notes:
The Table of Contents was created by the transcriber and placed in the public domain.
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
 CONTENTS
In Appreciation of William F. Cody (Buffalo Bill).
Chapter I. Running the Death-gantlet.
Chapter II. The Border King.
Chapter III. The King of the Sioux.
Chapter IV. Buffalo Bill’s Plot.
Chapter V. The Desperate Venture.
Chapter VI. The Dash of the Scouts.
Chapter VII. The Ace of Clubs.
Chapter VIII. Facing Death.
Chapter IX. Breaking Through the Red Circle.
Chapter X. The Ride to the Rescue.
Chapter XI. A Busy Half-hour.
Chapter XII. A Flying Fight.
Chapter XIII. The Chase of the White Antelope.
Chapter XIV. A Startling Discovery.
Chapter XV. The Treasure Chest.
Chapter XVI. The Bandits of the Overland Trail.
Chapter XVII. A Friend in Need.
Chapter XVIII. The Race With Death.
Chapter XIX. Danforth’s Hand Is Stayed Again.
Chapter XX. A Double Capture.
Chapter XXI. The Cave in the Mountain.
Chapter XXII. The Night Prowlers.
Chapter XXIII. More Than They Bargained For.
Chapter XXIV. Chased by the Flames.
Chapter XXV. The Telltale Crow.
Chapter XXVI. The Massacre.
Chapter XXVII. “The Death Killer.”
Chapter XXVIII. The White Antelope Interferes.
Chapter XXIX. A Girl’s Word.
Chapter XXX. The Mad Hunter.
Chapter XXXI. Buffalo Bill’s Great Shot.
Chapter XXXII. The Border King’s Pledge.
Chapter XXXIII. Tracking the Mad Hunter.
Chapter XXXIV. Red Knife Loses His “Medicine.”
Chapter XXXV. The Search For New Medicine.
Chapter XXXVI. The Magic Cup.
Chapter XXXVII. The Traitor.
Chapter XXXVIII. White Antelope’s Peril.
Chapter XXXIX. A Cry For Help.
Chapter XL. The Freight-train.
Chapter XLI. “On Guard!”
Chapter XLII. The Avenger.
Chapter XLIII. Man to Man at Last.
Chapter XLIV. The Fight to Gain the Island.
Chapter XLV. War to the Knife.
Chapter XLVI. And the Knife to the Hilt.
Chapter XLVII. The Conqueror.
Chapter XLVIII. The Pledge Kept.
Chapter XLIX. Conclusion.
Buffalo Bill, the Border King
OR,

REDSKIN AND COWBOY

BY
Col. Prentiss Ingraham
Author of “Buffalo Bill”

STREET & SMITH CORPORATION

PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
 Copyright, 1907
By STREET & SMITH
Buffalo Bill, the Border King

(Printed in the United States of America)

All rights reserved including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
 IN APPRECIATION OF WILLIAM F.
CODY
(BUFFALO BILL).

It is now some generations since Josh Billings, Ned Buntline, and

Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, intimate friends of Colonel William F.
Cody, used to forgather in the office of Francis S. Smith, then
proprietor of the New York Weekly. It was a dingy little office on
Rose Street, New York, but the breath of the great outdoors stirred
there when these old-timers got together. As a result of these
conversations, Colonel Ingraham and Ned Buntline began to write of
the adventures of Buffalo Bill for Street & Smith.
Colonel Cody was born in Scott County, Iowa, February 26, 1846.
Before he had reached his teens, his father, Isaac Cody, with his
mother and two sisters, migrated to Kansas, which at that time was
little more than a wilderness.
When the elder Cody was killed shortly afterward in the Kansas
“Border War,” young Bill assumed the difficult role of family
breadwinner. During 1860, and until the outbreak of the Civil War,
Cody lived the arduous life of a pony-express rider. Cody volunteered
his services as government scout and guide and served throughout
the Civil War with Generals McNeil and A. J. Smith. He was a
distinguished member of the Seventh Kansas Cavalry.
During the Civil War, while riding through the streets of St. Louis,
Cody rescued a frightened schoolgirl from a band of annoyers. In
true romantic style, Cody and Louisa Federci, the girl, were married
March 6, 1866.
In 1867 Cody was employed to furnish a specified amount of buffalo
meat to the construction men at work on the Kansas Pacific Railroad.
It was in this period that he received the sobriquet “Buffalo Bill.”
In 1868 and for four years thereafter Colonel Cody served as scout
and guide in campaigns against the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. It
was General Sheridan who conferred on Cody the honor of chief of
scouts of the command.
After completing a period of service in the Nebraska legislature,
Cody joined the Fifth Cavalry in 1876, and was again appointed chief
of scouts.
Colonel Cody’s fame had reached the East long before, and a great
many New Yorkers went out to see him and join in his buffalo hunts,
including such men as August Belmont, James Gordon Bennett,
Anson Stager, and J. G. Heckscher. In entertaining these visitors at
Fort McPherson, Cody was accustomed to arrange wild-West
exhibitions. In return his friends invited him to visit New York. It was
upon seeing his first play in the metropolis that Cody conceived the
idea of going into the show business.
Assisted by Ned Buntline, novelist, and Colonel Ingraham, he started
his “Wild West” show, which later developed and expanded into “A
Congress of the Roughriders of the World,” first presented at
Omaha, Nebraska. In time it became a familiar yearly entertainment
in the great cities of this country and Europe. Many famous
personages attended the performances, and became his warm
friends, including Mr. Gladstone, the Marquis of Lorne, King Edward,
Queen Victoria, and the Prince of Wales, now King of England.
At the outbreak of the Sioux, in 1890 and 1891, Colonel Cody served
at the head of the Nebraska National Guard. In 1895 Cody took up
the development of Wyoming Valley by introducing irrigation. Not
long afterward he became judge advocate general of the Wyoming
National Guard.
Colonel Cody (Buffalo Bill) died in Denver, Colorado, on January 10,
1917. His legacy to a grateful world was a large share in the
development of the West, and a multitude of achievements in
horsemanship, marksmanship, and endurance that will live for ages.
His life will continue to be a leading example of the manliness,
courage, and devotion to duty that belonged to a picturesque phase
of American life now passed, like the great patriot whose career it
typified, into the Great Beyond.
BUFFALO BILL, THE BORDER KING.
 CHAPTER I.
RUNNING THE DEATH-GANTLET.
Fort Advance, a structure built of heavy, squared timbers and some
masonry, with towers at the four corners, commanding the deep
ditches which had been dug around the walls, stood in the heart of
the then untracked Territory of Utah. It was the central figure of a
beautiful valley—when in repose—and commanded one of the
important passes and wagon trails of the Rockies.
A mountain torrent flowed through the valley, and a supply of pure
water from this stream had been diverted into the armed square
which, commanded by Major Frank Baldwin, was a veritable City of
Refuge to all the whites who chanced to be in the country at this
time.
For the valley of Fort Advance offered no peaceful scene. The savage
denizens of the mountain and plain had risen, and, in a raging,
vengeful flood, had poured into the valley and besieged the
unfortunate occupants of the fort. These were a branch of the great
Sioux tribe, and, under their leading chief, Oak Heart, fought with
the desperation and blind fanaticism of Berserkers.
A belt of red warriors surrounded Fort Advance, cutting off all
escape, or the approach of any assistance to the inmates of the
stockade, outnumbering the able-bodied men under Major Baldwin’s
command five to one! Among them rode the famous Oak Heart,
inspiring his children to greater deeds of daring. By his side rode a
graceful, beautiful girl of some seventeen years, whose face bore the
unmistakable stamp of having other than Indian blood flowing in her
veins. Long, luxurious hair, every strand of golden hue, contrasted
strangely with her bronze complexion, while her eyes were sloe-
black, and brilliant with every changing expression.
This was White Antelope, a daughter of Oak Heart, and she held
almost as much influence in the tribe as the grim old chief himself.
Because of her beauty, indeed, she was almost worshiped as a
goddess. At least, there was not a young buck in all the Utah Sioux
who would not have attempted any deed of daring for the sake of
calling the White Antelope his squaw.
But while the red warriors were so inspired without the walls of the
fortress, within was a much different scene. Major Baldwin’s
resources were at an end. Many of his men were wounded, or ill;
food was low; the wily redskins had cut off their water-supply; and
there were but a few rounds of ammunition remaining. Fort Advance
and its people were at a desperate pass, indeed!
After a conference with his subordinate officers, Major Baldwin stood
up in the midst of his haggard, powder-begrimed men. They were
faithful fellows—many of them bore the scars of old Indian fights.
But human endurance has its limit, and there is an end to man’s
courage.
“Will no man in this fort dare run the death-gantlet and bring aid to
us?” cried the major.
It was an appeal from the lips of a fearless man, one who had won a
record as a soldier in the Civil War, and had made it good later upon
the field as an Indian fighter. The demand was for one who would
risk almost certain death to save a couple of hundred of his fellow
beings, among them a score of women and children.
The nearest military post where help might be obtained was forty
miles away. Several brave men had already attempted to run the
deadly gantlet, and had died before the horrified eyes of the fort’s
inmates. It seemed like flinging one’s life away to venture into the
open where, just beyond rifle-shot, the red warriors ringed the fort
about.
Such was the situation, and another attack was about due. The
riding of the big chief and his daughter through the mass of Indians,
was for the purpose of giving instructions regarding the coming
charge. Ammunition in the fort might run out this time. Then over
the barrier would swarm the redskins, and the thought of the
massacre that would follow made even Major Baldwin’s cheek
blanch.
So the gallant commander’s appeal had been made—and had it been
made in vain? So it would seem, for not a man spoke for several
moments. They shifted their guns, or changed weight from one foot
to the other, or adjusted a bandage which already marked the
redskin’s devilish work.
They were brave men; but death seemed too sure a result of the
attempt called for; it meant—to their minds—but another life flung
away!
“Was it not better that all should die here together, fighting
desperately till the last man fell?” That was the question these old
scarred veterans asked in their own minds. The venture would be
utterly and completely hopeless.
“Look there!”
The trumpet-call was uttered by an officer on one of the towers of
the stockade. His arm pointed westward, toward a ridge of rock
which—barren and forbidding—sloped down into the valley facing
the main gateway of Fort Advance.
At the officer’s cry a score of men leaped to positions from which
could be seen the object that occasioned it. Even Major Baldwin,
knowing that the cry had been uttered because of some momentous
happening, hurriedly mounted to the platform above the gate. He
feared that already his demand for another volunteer was too late.
He believed the redskins were massing for another charge.
All eyes were strained in the direction the officer on the watch-tower
pointed. A gasp of amazement was chorused by those who saw and
understood the meaning of the cry.
A horseman was seen riding like the wind toward the fort—and he
was a white man!
The Indians who had already beheld this rash adventurer were
dumb with amazement. They were as much surprised by his
appearance as were the inmates of the fort.
The unknown rider was leading a packhorse. The horse he bestrode
was a magnificent animal, and the packhorse flying along by its side
was a racer as well, for both came on, down the long tongue of
barren rock, at a spanking pace.
From whence had the man come? Who was he? How had he gotten
almost through the Indian lines undiscovered?
He certainly had all but run the gantlet of the red warriors, for no
shot, or no arrow, had been fired at him until he was discovered by
the officer on the watch-tower of the fort.
Then it was that he spurred forward like the wind, and floating to
the ears of the whites who watched him so fearfully came the long,
tremolo yell of the Sioux warriors as they started in pursuit of the
daredevil rider. He was heading directly for the large gates of the
fort.
That he had chosen well his place to break through the Indian
death-circle was evident, for there were few braves near him as he
fled along the sloping ridge into the valley. His rifle he turned to
right, or to left, firing with the same ease from either shoulder, while
his mount, and the packhorse tied to its bridle, guided their own feet
over the rocky way.
When he pulled trigger the bullet did not miss its mark. The rifle
rang out a death-knell, or sent a wounded brave out of action.
The ponies of the Indians were feeding in the valley, with only a
guard here and there, and there were no mounted warriors near to
close in on the reckless rider, or to head him off. Hark! Their
vengeful yells, as they observed the possibility of the daring man’s
escape, were awful to hear. They were in a frenzy of rage at the
desperate act of the horseman.
Rifles and bows sent bullets and shafts at him, but at long range. If
he was hit he did not show it. The horses still thundered on, down
into the valley, as recklessly as frenzied buffalo.
Oak Heart, the great war chief, heard the commotion and saw the
speeding white man. The chief was mounted, and he lashed his
horse into a dead run for the point where the reckless paleface was
descending into the valley. With him rode the White Antelope, and
their coming spurred the braves to more strenuous attempts to
reach, or capture, or kill, the daredevil rider.
The occupants of the fort—those who beheld this wonderful race—
were on the qui vive. Their exclamations displayed the anxiety and
uncertainty they felt.
“He can never make it!”
“The Indian guard are driving in the ponies to bar his way!”
“Who is he?”
“How he rides!”
“God guard the brave fellow!” cried a woman’s voice.
One of the gentler sex had climbed to the platform over the gate,
and this was her prayer.
Other women had dropped to their knees, and were fervently
praying God to spare the splendid fellow who was daring the gantlet
of death. A cheer rose from the soldiery. This unknown was showing
them the way that they had not dared to go.
“That packhorse is wounded. Why doesn’t he leave it?” cried one of
the officers. “It is delaying him—can’t the fellow see it?”
At that moment the commander shouted:
“Captain Keyes, take your troop to the rescue of that brave fellow!”
“With pleasure, sir! I was about to ask your permission to do just
that,” declared the junior officer.
The bugle sounded, but its notes were drowned in a sudden wild
shout of joy that rose from the two hundred inmates of the fort.
Another officer, with a field-glass at his eye, had suddenly turned
and shouted:
“It is Buffalo Bill, the Border King!”
 CHAPTER II.
THE BORDER KING.

The wild cheers that greeted the recognition of the daring gantlet
runner came in frenzied roars, the piping voices of children, the
treble notes of women, and the deep bass of the men mingling in a
swelling chorus that rose higher and higher.
The Border King, as he had been called, heard the sound. He
understood that it was in his welcome, and he fairly stood up in his
stirrups and waved his sombrero, while the horses dashed on at the
same mad pace.
Buffalo Bill, or William F. Cody, as was his real name, was the chief
of scouts at this very fort, and he was a hero—almost a god—in the
eyes of the soldiers and his brother scouts.
A week before he had started for Denver with important despatches,
but had returned in a few hours to report signs of a large band of
Indians on the move. He had warned Major Baldwin that Oak Heart
and his braves might be intending a concerted attack upon Fort
Advance; but duty called Buffalo Bill to the trail again, and he had
hurried away on his Denver mission.
That the danger he had dreaded was real, the surrounding of the
fort several days later by the Sioux proved. Scouts had been sent for
aid, but too late. None had gotten through the belt of redskins, and
that belt was tightening each hour. The ammunition was low, and
the awful end was not far off if help from some quarter did not
appear.
Even the appearance of Buffalo Bill inspired the beleaguered whites
with hope. It seemed an almost hopeless attempt to reach the fort,
for the red warriors were closing in upon him. Yet he rode on
unshakenly.