Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Still Hunt; Or, The Robber of the Range онлайн

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His outlaw companion followed a moment after, with the luggage of the dead passenger, leaving his dead comrade and the horses lying in the trail.

Half an hour after the coach had rolled away, a horseman came dashing upon the scene and drew rein.

The horseman was Buffalo Bill, the king of scouts, and he cried sternly:

“This is Silk Lasso Sam’s work!”

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Of all strange camps and communities ever seen upon the frontier that of Pocket City, in Yellow Dust Valley, was the strangest. It was named from the fact that it fitted into the valley among the mountains like a pocket in a dress, and also on account, perhaps, of there having been found just there a number of rich pockets of gold.

Yellow Dust Valley was a home of miners, a couple or more thousands being scattered along the sides of the mountains, and Pocket City, situated near the upper end, was the headquarters of all.

There the stage-line had its ending, and there was a semi-monthly coach from Pocket City to the main stem of the Overland Trail. There was a post-office, a hotel known as the Frying Pan, a saloon and gambling-resort called the Devil’s Den, several stores, a combination blacksmith and wagon-shop, with smaller drinking and betting-places, and several boarding-houses.