_ CHAPTER XXXIV. A METAMORPHOSIS
When Harding met with old Huckleberry, the stage-driver, who had so mysteriously disappeared, and whose fate was a mystery to the miners of Last Chance, that old worthy saw the coach drive on its way while he regarded its departure with the complacency of one not afraid to be left alone, and fully capable of taking care of himself.
He stood for some time in silent meditation, after the coach had disappeared, and then, shouldering his rifle, struck off over the mountains, with an evident purpose in view.
A walk of some ten miles brought him to a secluded nook in the mountains, a perfect basin a dozen acres in size, heavily wooded, with plenty of grass and water.
A narrow pass, not twenty feet in width, was the only entrance to the basin, and this was securely fastened up with long poles.
Over this old Huckleberry clambered, and as he walked into the basin, a couple of horses feeding there greeted him with a welcoming neigh. In the farther end, among the pines, was a brush cabin, and in it were blankets and a camping-outfit, with saddle, pack-saddle, and bridles.
Old Huckleberry proceeded to build a fire and cook dinner, after which he caught one of his horses, saddled him, and strapped on some blankets and a bag of provisions.
Leading the horse out of the basin, he replaced the barrier securely, so that the other animal could not get out, and, mounting, started off for the fort. As he rode alone, he muttered to himself:
"I can do nothing alone, I feel certain, and by this time the one man whose aid I can best depend upon is at the fort, and he will gladly return with me."
Pressing on at a steady gait, he did not halt until some time after nightfall, and then built no fire, but ate a cold supper, staked his horse out, rolled up in his blankets, and was soon fast asleep.
He rose early, and the coming of day found him several miles on his way from his night camp.
About eight o'clock he halted, built a fire, broiled the steak of an antelope he had killed, some crackers and bacon, his horse faring well on the grass near-by.
A rest of an hour and a half, and he was again in the saddle, keeping up the same steady gait until noon, when another halt was made for a couple of hours. On through the afternoon he urged his horse once more, halting only after nightfall.
Two hours before daybreak he was in the saddle, and now his horse was pushed more rapidly forward, as though a long rest lay not very far ahead.
It was two hours before noon when the worn-out horse pricked up his ears as he saw a flag fluttering in the skies a mile ahead.
In through the stockade gate of Fort Faraway rode old Huckleberry, and he asked to be at once taken to the quarters of the commanding officer. Major Randall surveyed the old fellow keenly, and said pleasantly:
"Well, old man, what can I do for you?"
"I'll tell yer, pard, soon as I sees ef thet gent in sojer clothes ain't goin' ter speak ter a old friend," and old Huck looked over to an officer who was talking to Major Randall when he entered. The man wore a fatigue uniform, and his shoulder-straps bore the rank of a captain, with the insignia of a surgeon of cavalry.
He was tall, erect, had broad shoulders, and was of powerful build, while, strange to say for an officer, he wore his black hair long and falling in heavy masses down his back.
His face was full of decision, courage, and intelligence, and handsome, as well, and in his dark, piercing eyes there was a strange mixture of gentleness and a fiery nature combined. In a voice strangely musical for a man's, he said, as he arose:
"My dear old pard, am I so remiss as to forget the face of a friend, for, though I see that it is familiar, I cannot just place you."
"Now, Pard Doc, I thinks that ain't jist squar' ter fergit a old friend," said old Huckleberry, while Major Randall said:
"He certainly knows you well, Major Powell."
"And I knows Major Randall well, too; but as you don't seem ter git onter jist who I is gents, I'll tell yer by taking off my wig and specs--see!"
The wig, or shock, rather, of long gray hair was removed, the spectacles taken off, and the face of Buffalo Bill was revealed to the astonished gaze of Major Randall and Surgeon Powell, who both uttered an exclamation of amazement, and then burst out into hearty laughter, at the metamorphosis of old Huckleberry into the noted chief of scouts.
"Well, Cody, what does this masquerading mean?" cried Major Randall, after he and Surgeon Powell had shaken hands with the scout.
"It is a part of a plot, major, for I have been driving stage," answered the scout.
"Driving stage?"
"Yes, sir, I took the semimonthly coach running from W---- to Last Chance, after the road-agents had killed Benton and Dockery, and no one cared to drive the run, unless it was Doctor Dick, the gold-gambler of Last Chance."
"Did he take the coach through, Cody?"
"Oh, yes, sir, he is not a man to scare, and he drove several runs; but then his professional duties as gambler and doctor kept him busy, and I rigged up as old Huckleberry, and drove the runs, to see what I could find out."
"And what did you find out?"
"I believe I discovered sufficient, sir, to stretch several ropes with human weights."
"That means you are on the right trail to bag those road-agents?"
"Yes, sir."
"They appear to be well handled?"
"They are, sir, for their chief is a man of remarkable pluck, cunning, and skill, and he handles them in a masterly manner."
"Who is he?"
"I do not believe his own men could tell you, sir, for he goes masked and robed in black, even covering up his horse from ears to tail."
"That is strange."
"It is the safest plan, sir."
"And who is driving now?"
"Harding, sir, the ex-soldier, and whom, I may confidentially say, major, I have taken into my service, not as a scout, but as a spy, at Last Chance."
"A fine fellow, but I fear he will be killed as driver on that trail."
"I hope not, sir, and he has escaped splendidly through great dangers thus far."
"Well, what will be your plans now?"
"I have been hanging on the trail, sir, since my mysterious disappearance as old Huckleberry, and have been hovering about the Death Line, taking notes and seeing what I could discover. I have a camp in a basin in the mountain range, and there I left my packhorse and outfit while I came here."
"You have something to report to me, then?"
"No, sir, not particularly, though I came for a purpose."
"And that purpose, Cody?"
"I was aware, sir, that Surgeon Frank Powell was coming to the fort, to relieve Doctor Dey, and that his duties as surgeon would not begin for some weeks yet. As we have been on so many scouting-expeditions together, and Doctor Powell is a regiment in himself, I wanted him to go back with me and unearth these road-agents, following their trail to the very end."
"You could have no one better. What do you say, Powell?"
"How could I refuse, major, after Bill's most flattering remarks about what I can do, and which prove he has Irish blood in his veins."
"Ah! I knew that you would go, Frank," responded Cody.
"Of course, I will, and am ready when you say the word, only I must ask Major Randall for a leave, should we not accomplish our purpose before I am ordered for duty here."
"That will be all right, Powell. When will you start, Cody, for Doctor Powell will have to first relieve Doctor Dey, as that would be the best plan, and then go, leaving his assistant surgeon in charge."
"It is for you to decide, major."
"Very well, say in just ten days from now."
"All right, sir; but, after a couple of days' rest, I had better return to my basin camp, and be on the watch, and I can tell Surgeon Powell just where I will meet him upon a certain date."
"You know best, Cody; but do not venture much until Powell joins you, for well I know what a team you two make together."
"I feel certain, sir, that together we can run down these masked marauders," was the confident reply of Buffalo Bill, and when he went to his quarters, soon after, Surgeon Powell accompanied him, for the two were the closest of friends. _