Wild Bill's Last Trail.
By NED BUNTLINE,
Author of "Harry Bluff, The Reefer," "Navigator Ned," etc.
CHAPTER I.
THE AVENGER.
"Bill! Wild Bill! Is this you, or your ghost? What, in greatCreation's name, are you doing here?"
"Gettin' toward sunset, old pard–gettin' toward sunset, before I passin my checks!"
The first speaker was an old scout and plainsman, Sam Chichester byname, and he spoke to a passenger who had just left the west-ward-boundexpress train at Laramie, on the U.P.R.R.
That passenger was none other than J. B. Hickok, or "Wild Bill," one ofthe most noted shots, and certainly the most desperate man of his ageand day west of the Mississippi River.
"What do you mean, Bill, when you talk of passing in your checks? You'rein the very prime of life, man, and—"
"Hush! Talk low! There are listening ears everywhere, Sam! I don't knowwhy, but there is a chill at my heart, and I know my time has about runout. I've been on East with Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack, trying to showpeople what our plains life is. But I wasn't at home there. There werecrowds on crowds that came to see us, and I couldn't stir on the streetsof their big cities without having an army at my heels, and I got sickof it. But that wasn't all. There was a woman that fell in love with me,and made up her mind to marry me. I told her that I was no sort of a manto tie to–that I was likely to be wiped out any day 'twixt sunrise andsunset, for I had more enemies than a candidate for President; but shewouldn't listen to sense, and so–we buckled! Thank Heaven, I'vecoaxed her to stay East with friends while I've come out here; for, Sam,she'll be a widow inside of six weeks!"
"Bill, you've been hitting benzine heavy of late haven't you?
"No; I never drank lighter in my life than I have for a year past. Butthere's a shadow cold as ice on my soul! I've never felt right since Ipulled on that red-haired Texan at Abilene, in Kansas. You remember, foryou was there. It was kill or get killed, you know, and when I let himhave his ticket for a six-foot lot of ground he gave one shriek–itrings in my ears yet. He spoke but one word–'Sister!' Yet that word hasnever left my ears, sleeping or waking, from that time to this. I had asister once myself, Sam, and I loved her a thousand times more than Idid life. In fact I never loved life after I lost her. And I can't tellyou all about her–I'd choke if I tried. It is enough that she died, andthe cause of her death died soon after, and I wasn't far away when–whenhe went under. But that isn't here nor there, Sam–let's go and warm up.Where do you hang out?"
"I'm in camp close by. I'm heading a party that is bound in for theBlack Hills. Captain Jack Crawford is along. You know him. AndCalifornia Joe, too."
"Good! It is the first streak of luck I've had in a year. I'll join yourcrowd, Sam, if you'll let me. Captain Jack and Joe are as good friendsas I ever had–always barring one."
"And that is?"
"My old six-shooter here. Truth-Teller I call it. It never speakswithout saying something. But come, old boy–I see a sign ahead. I musttake in a little benzine to wash the car-dust out of my throat."
Bill pointed to a saloon near at hand, and the two old scouts andcompanions moved toward it.
As they did so, a young man, roughly dressed, with a face fair andsmooth, though shadowed as if by exposure to sun and and wind, steppedfrom behind a shade tree, where he had sto