Buffalo Bill's Spy Trailer: or, The Stranger in Camp. Ingraham Prentiss
that he was only traveling from a love of adventure, and enjoyed the wild life he thus far had met with.
He gave Dave a bunch of good cigars, showed him a silver flask of fine brandy, and was promptly invited to ride upon the box with him, an invitation that was as promptly accepted.
Out of the little settlement rolled the coach, followed by a cheer from the crowd gathered to see it depart, for the going and coming of the coaches in border places are events of great moment to the dwellers there.
The young man in search of adventure was upon the box with Dave, and the miner passenger was inside, where it was safer for him to ride, as he was in a hopeless state of intoxication.
The horses dashed away in fine style, enthused by the cheer of the crowd, and Dave looked happy and proud, while his companion on the box appeared to enjoy the scene immensely.
The young stranger was well dressed, for he had donned what was suitable for frontier roughing it, and wore in his belt a single revolver, as a means of defense rather than for show or bravado.
He had a fine face, fearless and frank, and looked like a man of refinement and education.
Dave Dockery was a good reader of human nature and took to his passenger at once, being really greatly pleased with his companionship.
Three-fourths of the trail had been gone over without adventure, the three stops at the relay-stations, for changes of horses and meals for passengers, having been made on time, and Last Chance was only a dozen miles away, when, as they neared a dreary-looking spot in a gorge, Dave said:
"There is where poor Bud Benton passed in his chips, pard, and I tell you I don't like the spot a bit."
Hardly had he uttered the words when a sharp report rang out and Dave Dockery fell back upon the coach and lay motionless, while out of the shadows spurred a horseman dressed in black and wearing a red mask.
With his revolver leveled at the stranger he said sharply:
"Your turn next, sir, for I am out for blood and gold."
Riding on the box with Dave Dockery, the young stranger had heard much of the wild ways of the border, and had been told that it would be madness to resist a "hold-up" of a coach, unless the chances were well on the side of those attacked.
When, therefore, the sharp report of a revolver had been followed by the toppling over of poor Dave, and a masked horseman rode out of the shadows of the cliff, his revolver covering him, the young man did not just know what to do.
He had with him a few hundred in money, his watch, chain, and a few articles of value, with some papers of importance.
That the masked horseman was alone he could not believe, and yet he had, against all traditions of the border, begun by firing upon Dave Dockery, and not ordering him to halt first.
That he had fired to kill the bullet-wound in the breast, and the motionless form of the driver as he lay back upon the top of the coach, were in evidence.
Now he stood the chance himself of life and death, and he awaited the ordeal with white, but calm face.
The horses had stopped in their tracks, and though no other persons were visible the stranger looked for others to appear. The thought flashed across him that he must lose all he had with him, but his life he could not believe was in danger, yet why the masked road-agent had killed Dockery without mercy he could not understand.
"Do you mean to take my life, man?"
"That depends whether it is worth more to kill you than to let you live," was the businesslike reply.
But hardly had he spoken when from out of the coach window came a flash and report. The miner within, awakening to a sense of his danger, had taken a hand in the affair.
The bullet barely missed the head of the masked horseman, who at once returned the fire, aiming first, however, at the young man on the box.
With a groan the latter fell heavily to the ground, his revolver half-drawn from its holster, and the murderer, leaping from his saddle, took refuge among the horses while he called out:
"I have killed your two comrades, and you share the same fate unless you surrender."
"I cry quits, pard," came in frightened tones from the coach, and the man was evidently now sobered and greatly alarmed.
"Then come out!"
The miner quickly threw open the stage door, put his foot upon the step and then peered cautiously toward his foe.
Instantly there came a shot, and, without a moan, he pitched forward head foremost and fell in a heap between the wheels.
"Any more?" called out the road-agent sternly.
No answer came, and, revolvers in hand, he stepped to one side and opened fire at the coach. He fired with both hands, and did not cease until he had emptied his weapons and riddled the coach.
Then he unslung his rifle from his saddle-horn and cautiously approached, ready to fire at the first sign of danger to himself.
But he had done his work well, and he had nothing to fear, so advancing to the coach, found that it was empty.
Quickly he set about searching the vehicle for all of value that it might carry. He found a roll of bills belonging to the miner, and a few things of value in his valise.
The young man panned out for him nearly a thousand in money, and some jewelry, and Dave Dockery was pretty well supplied with funds.
But the masked marauder searched rapidly on, and evidently looked for a richer haul yet.
The box was found with the money in it, and a bullet fired from his revolver shattered the lock.
"Ah! here is a haul worth all risks to get," he muttered, and the contents of the chest were put in a sack and tied upon his saddle.
His work thus far had taken but a few minutes, and, apparently satisfied with what booty he had secured, he shot one of the wheel-horses, to prevent the team going on with the coach, and, mounting the splendid animal he rode, and which was covered, head and all, with a black calico covering, he dashed away down the pass at a gallop.
CHAPTER VI.
THE DUMB MESSENGER
Hardly had the masked road-agent ridden away, when a deep groan came from the lips of Dave Dockery. His eyes opened, and after a supreme effort, which cost him the greatest agony, as moans would force themselves through his shut teeth, he was able to slip down from the box to the ground.
He knelt by the side of the man who had been his companion a few minutes before, full of life and vigor, and found him motionless. Then he crept on hands and knees to the side of the miner.
"Dead!" came from between his clenched teeth.
After several efforts he arose by aid of a wheel to his feet, and, taking a piece of paper and pencil from his pocket, wrote a few lines upon it with the greatest difficulty.
Making his way, supported by the coach, step by step to the wheel-horse that stood chained to his dead comrade, he unhitched him from the pole, fastened the slip of paper to the bridle, and gave him a blow.
"Go! old horse, for I cannot ride you; I am too weak to hold myself on your back. Go for help to Last Chance, and maybe if you hurry you may save my life."
The horse seemed to understand what was said to him, and started off at a swift trot down the trail.
He was just disappearing from sight when Dockery, unable to longer stand up, tottered and fell by the side of the trail, writhing in his agony.
And while he lay thus the faithful horse increased his speed to a gallop and went along thus for miles, his trace-chains rattling an accompaniment to his hoof-falls as he followed the trail to Last Chance.
Halting at a stream here and there for a drink of cool water, and at a grassy bank for a few mouthfuls of food, the horse held on his way, and a couple of hours after his departure from the coach galloped into the mining-camp.
Those who saw him with the harness on felt sure that some harm had