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

gun,” Jennie added. “And he—”
    â€œScotland Yard doesn’t need your assistance,” Desmond told them. His tone was hard and authoritative. “We have matters under control, and hardly need street Arabs to do our work for us.”
    Wiggins gazed off in the direction Silent Eagle had escaped. “Didn’t look that way a while ago,” he said.
    â€œThat’s because some other citizens did not mind their own affairs,” the inspector replied harshly.
    â€œWe had nothing to do with that mob,” Jennie insisted. “Or Silent Eagle’s escape.”
    Wiggins pressed his lips together. If she only knew, he told himself.
    â€œWe’re just trying to help,” Jennie concluded.
    â€œYour participation in this matter ends here,” the inspector told them. He glanced toward the still-cheering Wild West performers, then back at the two children. “We’re hunting a brutal man, and anyone who aids him will find themselves in a cell right next to him.”
    Desmond stalked off to join the other policemen.
    Jennie stood fuming. “You’d think we were criminals, the way he treated us,” she said.
    â€œWell, maybe one of us is . . . kind of,” Wiggins said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Jennie asked.
    â€œI’ll explain while we look for Owens and Dooley,” Wiggins replied. “Come on.”
    Owens and Dooley stood staring at the collection of tents stretching ahead of them. They’d passed this way before but hadn’t noticed much. Their eyes had been on Buffalo Bill. Now they saw that the larger tents nearby seemed to be some sort of offices for the show. A friendly cowboy had pointed out the Indian tepees.
    â€œI never seen nothing like this in my whole life,” Dooley said. He was a quivering collection of awe and fear as he cautiously entered the Indians’ territory.
    â€œMy dad used to sleep under tents—him being in the army and all.” Owens tried to sound as if there was nothing unusual about wandering through a tent community. “My mum told me stories about how she and some of her family used to sleep outside sometimes.”
    â€œIn the streets?”
    â€œNo.” Owens shook his head. “When she lived in the West Indies. Before she met my dad and came here.”
    â€œWell, I bet it wasn’t nothing like this,” Dooley replied. “Look at all these savages.”
    Owens bristled. “I wish you’d stop calling them that.”
    â€œWhy?” Dooley asked in surprise.
    â€œI begin to think they’re sick of hearing it,” Owens said, “like folks calling me ‘golliwog.’ How do you feel when someone calls a lie ‘Irish testimony’?”
    Dooley stared at Owens openmouthed, then turned to look out at the scene before them. “You think Wiggins and Jennie are all right?” he asked, changing the subject. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left them when the mob showed up.”
    â€œThey can take care of themselves,” Owens replied. “And it was our best chance to get round here. Now . . .” He looked around until he found the largest tepee on the grounds. “The cowboy we spoke to said that Chief Red Shirt was with Buffalo Bill?”
    â€œYeah,” Dooley replied. “He said they’d gone off to meet with some important people.”
    â€œProbably trying to convince them that the Indians aren’t evil.” Owens smiled.
    â€œBut”—Dooley pulled his cap down lower over his hair —“he did say we could talk to Chief Tall-Like -Oak, and that he’d be in—”
    â€œThe tent with the target and stars,” Owens interrupted, pointing. “Well, there she is, although I think that’s supposed to be the moon, not a target.”
    Owens led Dooley over to the cone-shaped structure. The animal skin that served as a door was off to one side, and the boys could see a lone