Chapter XII: Red Reynard’s Plans

Red Reynard, the Fox, did not lose his craftiness because of his rage. He had been wounded, but not seriously; he had received a slight scalp wound, which for the moment had dropped him like an ox in the shambles; and his right hand and arm still tingled painfully. But he considered himself as good as whole.

He had made a desperate effort to capture the daring scout, and in that had failed. But the girl who had tried to escape had not succeeded, and that was balm to his sore spirit. Now he gathered his desperadoes around him in the big cabin, to counsel with them as to what could now be done.

“Where’s Benton?” he said, when he had looked them over.

A search outside revealed Jim Benton lying unconscious; so that the possibility of securing further information from him was eliminated.

Klamath John had disappeared, and the talk of the outlaws showed they supposed him to be with Buffalo Bill.

Red Reynard sat in the lamplight, boldly enough, for he believed the scout was not near, and before him gathered his men, all desperate and daring, as he was himself. Red Reynard was not a bad-looking man except for a few things. He had a low brow and a heavy shock of hair. Beyond that, his countenance seemed so open and frank it would have deceived most men. Yet when his gray eyes were studied closely, they revealed the cunning which had given him the name of the Fox.

“What’s to be done?” he said. “We’ve got to git that feller. One o’ you go and fetch up the horses and have ’em ready.”

One of the men departed hastily.

“He called himself Buff’lo Bill, and I reckon he was, jedgin’ by the way he could sling lead,” one of the men began. “And takin’ Buff’lo Bill won’t be easy. How he got in hyer is what rattles me.”

“He’s in here,” said Red Reynard, “and that’s the important thing; we’re going to see now that he don’t git out. Benton said he came down the river. He must have got some notion that the river was safe, and so tackled it. And he’s here! But if he came in by the river, he’ll never git out.”

He pointed to two men.

“You, Bill and Jim, take yer guns and cut out for the lower openin’. If he tries it there, pot him. But it’s my opinion he won’t try to git out. He’s got some men with him, and he’s here for biz.”

“What can he do?” was asked.

“Well, he’s about killed Benton already. And Sutton’s got his arm broke all into splinters. He can creep up on us and serve us the same, can’t he, one at a time? He’s here for business. It’s his way. We’ve got to git him, and them that’s with him.”

The two men selected to go to the lower opening rose from their seats, slid through the door, and vanished. Obedience was one of the things required by Red Reynard. He ruled with an iron hand, though he usually gloved it with persuasive words.

“It’s my opinion he’ll be back ag’in,” he said. “He’s one o’ them devils that never knows when to stop. And he’ll be back to-night, since he’s seen the girl. That will be our chance.

“The moon will be up in less’n an hour. Some of us will ride along the river and out ’round. He’ll see us, no doubt, and he’ll git the idee we’re out huntin’ for him. Well, we will be, but some of us will be back here, laying for him.

“When he sees the gang that’s out, then he’ll come on in ag’in, and then will be the chance for the men that’s left here. If they post themselves in the right places, they can’t fail to see him, and if they don’t down him in the moonlight, I’ll want to know why.”

They talked for a number of minutes, after which a door was opened, into what proved to be a closet, and out of the closet Red Reynard brought some queer-looking garments.

In the meantime the horses had been brought up and were outside, saddled and bridled.

Red Reynard and some of his men donned the queer garments the chief produced. The effect was rather startling and sinister. They were clothed and masked in white. There were holes in the head parts of the garments for eyes, and on the bosom of each was the outline of a skull and crossbones in red.

Thus clothed and masked, Red Reynard and his men mounted the horses that had been brought up to the cabin, and departed from the village, riding close by the river, and following in the general direction taken by Buffalo Bill.

The scout had already set out for the village from the hiding place he had chosen at the foot of the high cliff wall. He had left behind him a negro who was perfectly willing to stay in hiding, and an Irishman who had voiced some strenuous objections. Flynn was not pleased to be left out of this “advinture.” He declared that in accompanying the scout it was adventure he sought, and he demanded his full share. But there was no horse for the Irishman, and the scout did not at that time desire his genial company.

Buffalo Bill kept close by the rocky cliffs for a while. He believed the horse had escaped from one of Red Reynard’s men, and had grazed along that cliff. When its tracks were seen in the morning, he did not want them to point too plainly to the hiding place.

By and by the scout turned the head of the horse toward the river. He did not think danger awaited him near the cliff. So he rode rapidly, through the white moonlight, for the moon had risen some time before; and soon found himself at the edge of the river. Here he drew the horse down into a walk, and kept a wary watch for Red Reynard’s men.

Though he was careful, the trees prevented him from seeing far ahead; and suddenly in the trail appeared those terrible figures—members of the Clan of the Skull and Crossbones, as the followers of Red Reynard called themselves.

“Halt!” they cried, covering Buffalo Bill with their rifles.

To obey was certain death.

The scout’s right hand swung up, and his revolver flamed, dropping a man out of his saddle.

As the revolver sounded, the scout hurled himself backward off his horse. Striking behind a rock, he went rolling over and over.

There was a quick, sputtering fire of revolvers, but the outlaws used their weapons in such haste that the scout remained untouched. He sprang to his feet, when screened by some bushes, and began to run toward the river in zigzag fashion.

As he gained the water’s edge, with those revolvers cracking behind him and bullets cutting through the bushes, he seized and hurled a heavy stone as far out into the water as he could, where it struck with a splash.

Just below this bank he had left the canoe, and he now sprang down and into it, cutting the painter and pushing the canoe along close by the shore. As he did so, he heard the outlaws reach the bank above him.

“He jumped into the river,” he heard Red Reynard say. “I heard the splash. But he’s got to come up. Shoot him as soon as his head shows.”

He kept the canoe moving slowly along under the bank, and heard the outlaws talking above as they watched for him to show his head on the surface of the moonlit river, where it would have been an easy target.

“There he is!” was yelled suddenly, and revolvers cracked again.

Looking out in curiosity, the scout saw that the head of a saurian had been shoved up out of the water; but it went down when the bullets struck it.

The outlaws discovered their mistake, and while some cursed, others laughed.

The canoe was moving on with the current, and already Buffalo Bill was several yards from the point where he had set it in motion.

The outlaws ran along the bluff, staring into the water, but under the bluff the scout’s canoe kept steadily on its way, unseen by them.

“I believe he’s drowned!” “Mebbe that critter swallered him!” “No, he’s bound to come up; keep a sharp watch!”

These were some of the things Buffalo Bill heard.

“Perhaps he’s hidin’ under the bank!”

The scout dipped his paddle and sent the canoe along faster when he heard that.

Two of the men came tumbling down the bank to look for him there. These men saw him, even though under the bank the light was dim, and they called out their discovery. One of them fired at him.

The scout’s return shot knocked the fellow into the water.

Wild cries were heard on the bank above, and more men came tumbling down.

The canoe was right against the shore. The scout slid out of it, sending it on with a push, and then crouched low by the roots of a tree. His situation was critical, but he had two good revolvers and knew how to use them. The current drew the boat away from the shore.

The desperadoes who had leaped down the bank saw it and began to shoot at it, under the impression that the scout was in it; and those who had remained above began, also, to fire on the canoe. In addition, there were excited cries and shouted commands.

Under cover of the noise and confusion, Buffalo Bill crept back along the shore, screened by the high bank and by bushes, and gained a point beyond that where he had entered the canoe. He began to feel safe again, as the shooting at the canoe continued, and all the desperadoes, chasing it, were moving downstream.

Before they discovered that the canoe was empty, and returned, the daring scout had climbed up the bank, and had concealed himself in a scanty growth of bushes, where he lay closely hidden, when they came running back to search along the shore for him.

The disgust and indignation of the desperadoes passed all bounds, and they were accusing each other angrily.

“He must ’a’ got into the river, after all,” said Red Reynard; “and by this time he may be on the other side. Some o’ you fellows take the canoe and go over there.”

The search was continued, and one of the men looked into the very hiding place where the scout lay, without seeing him. From the other shore to which they had crossed in the canoe, men shouted that nothing could be found there.

Knowing that the desperadoes were so aroused that the peril of venturing into the village would be too great, Buffalo Bill retreated, as soon as he could do so safely, and returned to the spot where he had left Flynn and Cudjo.

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