Read Online Buffalo Bill Wanted! by Alex Simmons - Free Book Online

really seem to have something against the coppers. A thought suddenly flashed across his mind. In their blue uniforms and flat hats, the British coppers resembled pictures he’d seen of the blue-coated U.S. cavalry who’d fought the Indians in the past. Many of the warriors looked ready to have a go at this thin blue line here and now.
    Desmond and his prisoner had nearly reached Wiggins on the other side of the bridge when another mob appeared from around the American Exposition building. Apparently, this crowd had just arrived from a nearby train station. The men had the shabby clothes and the gray, unwashed faces of classic East End loafers. Judging from the angry looks and waving fists, Wiggins figured they had decided to get busy today—and the reason, he realized with a sinking heart, was obvious.
    â€œThere that savage is!” someone at the head of the mob shouted. “He’s the one wot done for Mr. Pryke!”
    The low growl from the mob sounded as vicious as anything that Wiggins had ever heard. He glanced down the street, where Benny Flagg still stood, then back to the line of police, trying to figure out which way to go. In a moment, Wiggins ran out of choices. The mob surged forward, shouting, aiming to seal off the bridge.
    Wiggins retreated until he stood beside Desmond. The police inspector raised both arms, waving the crowd back. “This man is in police custody,” he shouted in the very voice of authority. “He will be taken to Scotland Yard and, in due course, will face a British jury.”
    For a moment, Wiggins thought that Desmond’s calm approach might just defuse the situation. Crowd members began backing away, opening a path.
    Then someone in the mob shouted, “To blazes with that! We come all this way, we’ll take care of ’im!”
    Wiggins had no doubt that “taking care” of Silent Eagle meant something very bad indeed. Maybe even something deadly.
    A knot of mob members, angrier —or drunker — than the rest, suddenly rushed forward. Among them was a big bruiser who confronted one of the constables accompanying Desmond. The copper tried to pull out his baton, but a single blow from a massive fist ended things quickly. The police officer dropped senseless at Silent Eagle’s feet.
    Instantly, the Wild West performers burst into shouts, pushing against the line of constables.
    Wiggins figured the Indian stood no chance if the mob members got their hands on him. Silent Eagle must have reached the same conclusion. His foot came up, lashing out in a kick to the big man’s belly. The oversized attacker went from loudly cheering his success to fighting for breath, clutching his middle as he folded in half.
    Silent Eagle brought up his manacled hands, clasped together into one fist, clouting the gasping man on the side of the head. The big man spun and fell down, bringing three mob members down with him.
    Taking advantage of the suddenly created open space, Silent Eagle dashed forward, using the man he’d just felled as a sort of springboard—launching off his back in a leap toward the thinnest part of the astonished crowd.
    â€œConstables! After him!” Inspector Desmond roared to the police who’d been blocking off the other end of the bridge. As his men ran after Silent Eagle, the Wild West performers broke through the police line and stormed onto the bridge. The whole scene became a wild melee as the three groups clashed together.
    Wiggins dodged and ducked punches and truncheons, trying to keep an eye on Silent Eagle’s escape.
    â€œCor!” Wiggins exclaimed. Silent Eagle showed all the Indian bravery, strength, and ruthlessness that Wiggins expected. The man used knees, elbows, and even his bound wrists as a club to fight his way to freedom.
    Silent Eagle tore his way clear of the lynch mob and ran straight to where Benny Flagg stood trying to calm down his cab horse, spooked by the noise and