The Life and Adventures
                              of Buffalo Bill


CHAPTER I.
INCIDENTS OF MY CHILDHOOD.
I have written about other scouts and pioneers; such renowned men as Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett
and Kit Carson, but they were dead before I wrote of them. Otherwise, perhaps, I would not have
had the hardihood to do it, because I had great respeet for them in a general way and their capacity
for "getting even."

I wrote of these men because the atmosphere and environment in which they had lived were
peculiarly pleasant to me. There was a kinship, so to speak, in their love of the lives they led, with
my own early ambitions and the experiences that followed.

But when it comes to writing of myself I am staggered, yet to stagger is not easy with me. Strange as
it may seem, all things considered, I am a modest man, and I can prove it. Reminiscent writing
demands one kind of egotism, but that does not signify self-conceit. One cannot indulge in personal
reminiscence without frequent use of the personal pronoun, hence to tell the story here demanded of
me the "ego" must occur often, otherwise the story could not be told autobiographically.

One strong and almost mandatory reason to me, and self-excuse, for doing this piece of work, that
is anything but enticing, otherwise, is to tell the real truth concerning my experiences rather than to
have go into history, as veracious, much of the romantic and dramatic stuff that has been attributed
to me by persons who have written of "Buffalo Bill" and who depended upon hearsay, and more or
less vivid imagination, for their extravagant consumption of good ink and paper used in the manner
mentioned.

With all this in view, commanding as it does the leniency that it seeks, the story is herewith given so
far as I am able to give it from memory.

I made my debut upon the stage of life February 26th, 1845. The scene of this extremely important
event, to me, was a little log cabin situated in the backwoods of Scott County, Iowa, where
opportunities were few and society was in a state of embryo, as the settling up of that State was just
then beginning. My father, Isaac, and mother, Mary Ann, were honest folks, but their possessions
comprehended scarcely anything more than good characters and eight ehildren, of which latter I was
fourth in rank. I was christened William Frederick, which name I have never discarded, though more
than once in my life I would have found it convenient, and decidedly to my comfort, to be known,
for the time being at least, as some other fellow.

If in early youth I was different from other boys it was because I was without example and not from
any inherent distinguishing characteristics. Playmates I had none, save among my brothers, and of
these there were only two, one of whom was too young to appreciate my ambitions and the other
too old to indulge my fancies. Accordingly, we were forced to the rather unsatisfactory compromise
of each brother playing by himself, a condition very harmful in the raising of a large family.

My father did not make a successful farmer, and when I was five years of age he abandoned the log
cabin of my nativity and moved the family to a little village fifteen miles north of Davenport, on the
Mississippi, named LeClair. A year before this removal he became so seriously affected by the
California fever that he resolved to emigrate to that exciting climate of gold, flowers, oranges, sweet
odors and fighting whisky. A party was organized, an outfit provided and a start made, but after
proceeding some fifty miles on the way they all thought it best to change their former determination
before increasing the distance from home, and carried this idea so far and successfully that every
one in the party returned to their respective habitations.

At LeClair I was sent to a school where, by diligence and fairly good conduct I managed to
familiarize myself with the alphabet, but further progress was arrested by a suddenly developed love
for skiff-riding on the Mississippi, which occupied so much of my time thereafter that really I found
no convenient opportunity for further attendance at school, though neither my father nor mother had
the slightest idea of my new found, self-imposed, employment, much to my satisfaction, let me add.
When I was thrown in the society of other boys I was not slow to follow their example, and I take to
myself no special credit for my conduct as a town-boy, for, like the majority, I foraged among
neighboring orchards and melon patches, rode horses when I was able to catch them grazing on the
commons, trapped innocent birds, and sometimes tied the exposed clothes of my comrades while
they were in swimming and least suspicious of my designs or acts. I would not like to admit any
greater crimes, though anything may be implied in the confession that I was quite as bad, though no
worse, than the ordinary every-day boy who goes barefoot, wears a brimless hat, one suspender and
a mischievous smile.

REMOVAL TO KANSAS
Shortly after my father's removal to LeClair he became a stage driver on the line between Davenport
and Chicago, but he had not followed this occupation long when he was chosen a justice of the
peace, and soon after was elected to the Legislature, positions which reflected honor rather than
material profit. He was a very popular man and I may with justice also add that he possessed
considerable ability for the meager opportunities he had received. But he was a natural pioneer and
his longing for new fields of adventure led him away from the place where his popularity was rapidly
extending, and to the wilds of what was then the far West. Following the bent of his inclination, in
the spring of 1852 he disposed of a small farm he owned at Walnut Grove, and packing his
possessions in one carriage and three wagons he started with his family for the territory of Kansas.
Father had a brother, Elijah, living at that time at Weston, Platte County, Missouri, near the Kansas
line, and as he was a well-todo merchant of the place, father concluded to stop with him awhile until
he could decide upon a desirable location in the territory. The overland trip was an uneventful one,
save as it gave me an opportunity for seeing a large stretch of uninhabited wilderness, and the
meeting of several rough characters on the route of which we stood in no small dread, and afforded
me my first sight of a negro. When within twenty miles of Weston we asked permission to stop at a
farm-house owned by a widow lady, but owing to the feeling of insecurity excited by frequent acts
of pillage and outrage committed by a bad class of emigrants, our request was refused until, by
chance, my father mentioned his brother&146;s name, when a conversation was begun that resulted
in a hospitable welcome from the widow, whose name was Burnes, and who was well acquainted
with my uncle Elijah. We stopped at the farm-house a day and were regaled with many good things,
among which was wheat-bread, something that I had not before eaten nor ever heard of, as
corn-dodger had always been the chief staff of our frugal lives.

On the following day father and mother drove over to Weston in the carriage and in the evening
returned with Elijah, who was very glad to see us and who took us to his home in Weston where we
remained for some time. Father did not tarry long, but crossed over into Kansas, on a prospecting
tour, hoping to find a place in which to settle his family. He visited the Kickapoo agency in
Leavenworth County and soon after established a trading post at Salt Creek Valley, within four miles
of the agency. Having thus entered into business, he settled his family on a farm belonging to Elijah,
three miles from Weston, intending that we should remain here until the territory was opened up for
settlement.

BOYHOOD DAYS IN KANSAS.
At this time Kansas was occupied by numerous tribes of Indians who were settled on reservations,
and through the territory ran the great highway to California and Salt Lake City. In addition to the
thousands of gold-seekers who were passing through Kansas by way of Ft. Leavenworth, there were
as many more Mormons on their hegira from Illinois to found a new temple in which to propagate
their doctrines. This extensive travel made the business of trade on the route a most profitable one.
But with the caravans were those fractious elements of adventurous pioneering, and here I first saw
the typical Westerner, with white sombrero, buckskin clothes, long hair, moccasined feet and a belt
full of murderous bowies and long pistols. But instead of these outre peculiarities impressing me
with feelings of trepidation, they inspired me with an ambition to become a daring plainsman. The
rare and skillful feats of horsemanship which I daily witnessed bred in me a desire to excel the most
expert; and when, at seven years of age my father gave me a pony, the full measure of my happiness
had ripened, like Jonah's gourd, in a night. Thenceforth my occupation was horseback riding, in
which pleasurable employment I made myself useful in performing necessary journeys in father's
interest.

In anticipation of the early passage of what was known as the "Enabling Act of Kansas Territory,"
which was then pending before Congress, my father, in the fall of 1853, took his family from the
farm of his brother and settled them at the post in Kansas, where he at once set about erecting
suitable log buildings. In the succeeding winter the act was passed which opened up the territory for
settlement, and father immediately pre-empted the claim on which he was living.

During the summer of this year we lived in our little log house, and father continued to trade with the
Indians, who became very friendly; hardly a day passed without a social visit from them. I spent a
great deal of time with the Indian boys, who taught me how to shoot with the bow and arrow, at
which I became quite expert. I also took part in all their sports, and learned to talk the Kickapoo
language to some extent.

Father desired to express his friendship for these Indians, and accordingly arranged a grand
barbecue for them. He invited them all to be present on a certain day, which they were; he then
presented them with two fat beeves, to be killed and cooked in the various Indian styles. Mother
made several large boilers full of coffee, which she gave to them, together with sugar and bread.
There were about two hundred Indians in attendance at the feast, and they all enjoyed and
appreciated it. In the evening they had one of their grand fantastic war dances, which greatly amused
me, it being the first sight of the kind I had ever witnessed.

My Uncle Elijah and quite a large number of gentlemen and ladies came over from Weston to attend
the entertainment. The Indians returned to their homes well satisfied.

My uncle at that time owned a trading post at Silver Lake, in the Pottawattamie country, on the
Kansas river, and he arranged an excursion to that place. Among the party were several ladies from
Weston, and father, mother and myself. Mr. McMeekan, my uncle's superintendent, who had come
to Weston for supplies, conducted the party to the post.

The trip across the prairies was a delightful one and we remained at the post several days. Father
and one or two of the men went on to Fort Riley to view the country, and upon their return my uncle
entertained the Pottawattamie Indians with a barbecue similar to the one given by father to the
Kickapoos.

During the latter part of the summer father filled a hay contract at Fort Leavenworth. I passed much
of my time among the campers, and spent days and days in riding over the country with Mr. William
Russell, who was engaged in the freighting business and who seemed to take a considerable interest
in me. In this way I became acquainted with many wagon-masters, hunters and teamsters, and
learned a great deal about the business of handling cattle and mules.

It was an excellent School for me, and I acquired a great deal of practical knowledge, which
afterwards I found to be of invaluable service, for it was not long before I became employed by
Majors & Russell, remaining with them in different capacities for several years.

The winter of 1853-54 was spent by father at our little prairie home in cutting house logs and fence
rails, which he intended to use on his farm, as soon as the bill for the opening of the territory should
pass. This bill, which was called the "Enablingact of Kansas territory," was passed in April, 1854,
and as before stated father immediately pre-empted the claim on which we were living.

The summer of that year was an exciting period in the history of the new territory. Thousands and
thousands of people, seeking new homes, flocked thither, a large number of the emigrants coming
over from adjoining States. The Missourians, some of them, would come laden with bottles of
whisky, and after drinking the liquor would drive the bottles into the ground to mark their land
claims, not waiting to put up any buildings.

WARFARE ON THE BORDER.
Every reader of American history is familiar with the disorders which followed close upon the heels
of the "Enabling Act." Pending its passage the western boundary of Missouri was ablaze with the
camp fires of intending settlers. Thousands of families were sheltered under the canvas of their ox
wagons, impatiently awaiting the signal from the Nation announcing the opening of the territorial
doors to the brawny immigrants, and when the news was heralded the waiting host poured over the
boundary line and fairly deluged the new public domain.

In this rapid settlement of the territory a most perplexing question arose, which was contested with
such virulence that a warfare was inaugurated which became a stain upon the nation's escutcheons
and was not abated until the Missouri and Kansas borders became drunk with blood. Nearly all
those who came from Missouri were intent upon extending slavery into the territory, whilst those
who emigrated from Illinois, Iowa and Indiana and sought homes in the new domain were equally
determined that the cursed hydra-head of slavery should never be reared in their midst. Over this
question the border warfare began, and its fierceness can only find comparison in the inquisitorial
persecutions of the fifteenth century. Men were shot down in their homes, around their firesides, in
the furrows behind the plow,- everywhere. Widows and orphans multiplied, the arm of industry was
palsied, while the incendiary torch lit up the prairie heavens, feeding on blighted homes and trailing
along in the path of granaries and store-houses. Mobs of murder-loving men, drunk with fury, and
with hearts set on desolation, day and night descended upon unguarded households, and tearing
away husbands and brothers from the loving arms of wives and sisters, left their bodies dangling
from the shade trees of their unhappy homes, or shot them down where their blood might sear the
eyes of helpless, agonized relatives. Anguish sat on every threshold, pity had no abiding-place, and
for four years the besom of destruction, with all its pestilential influences, blighted the prairies and
rendered every heart on the border sad and despondent.

THE STABBING OF MY FATHER
In this war of vengeance the Cody family did not escape a full measure of affliction. Near the Salt
Creek trading post was another store, kept by a Missourian named Rively, around which a
considerable settlement had been made, which became the rendezvous of many different elements,
and particularly of pro-slavery men, who enjoyed Rively's sympathies. In the summer of 1854, and
within a few months after the "Enabling Act" was passed, a very large meeting was held at the
popular rendezvous, and father being present was pressed to address the crowd on the slavery
question, he being regarded as favorably disposed to making Kansas a slave territory, owing to the
fact that his brother, Elijah, was a Missourian.

After much urging he at length spoke substantially as follows: 

"GENTLEMEN: You have called upon me for a speech, and I have accepted your invitation rather
against my will, as my views may not accord with the sentiments of a majority of this assembly. My
remarks will therefore be brief and to the point. The question before us to-day is, shall the territory
of Kansas admit slavery, and hereafter, upon her admission, shall she be a slave State? The question
of slavery is itself a broad one, which will not permit of discussion at length in this place. I
apprehend that your motive in calling upon me is to have me express my sentiments in regard to the
introduction of slavery into Kansas. I shall gratify your wishes in that respect. I was one of the
pioneers of the State of Iowa, and aided in its settlement when it was a territory, and helped to
organize it as a State.

"Gentlemen, I voted that it should be a white State-that negroes whether free or slave, should never
be allowed to locate within its limits; and, gentlemen, I say to you now. and I say it boldly, that I
propose to exert all my power in making Kansas the same kind of a State as Iowa. I believe in letting
slavery remain as it now exists, and I shall always oppose its further extension. These are my
sentiments, gentlemen, and let me tell you--"

He never finished this sentence, or his speech. His expressions were anything but acceptable to the
rough-looking crowd, whose ire had been gradually rising to fever heat, and at this point they hooted
and hissed him, and shouted, " You black Abolitionist, shut up!" "Get down from that box!" "Kill
himl" "Shoot him!" and so on. Father, however, maintained his position on the dry goods box,
notwithstanding the excitement and numerous invitations to step down, until a hot-headedpro-slavery
man, who was in the employ of my Uncle Elijah, crowded up and said: "Get off that box, you black
Abolitionist, or I'll pull you off."

Father paid but little attention to him, and attempted to resume his speech, intending doubtless to
explain his position and endeavor to somewhat pacify the angry crowd. But the fellow jumped up on
the box, and pulling out a huge bowie knife, stabbed father twice, who reeled and fell to the ground.
The man sprang after him, and would have ended his life then and there, had not some of the better
men in the crowd interfered in time to prevent him from carrying out his murderous intention.

The excitement was intense, and another assault would probably have been made on my father, had
not Rively hurriedly carried him to his home. There was no doctor within any reasonable distance,
and father at once requested that he be conveyed in the carriage to his brother Elijah's house in
Weston. My mother and a driver accordingly went there with him, where his wounds were dressed.
He remained in Preston several weeks before he was able to stir about again, but he never fully
recovered from the wounds, which eventually proved the cause of his death.

My uncle of course at once discharged the ruffian from his employ. The man afterwards became a
noted desperado, and was quite conspicuous in the Kansas war.

FATHER'S ESCAPE FROM AN ARMED MOB.
My father's indiscreet speech at Rively's brought upon our family all of the misfortunes and
difficulties which from that time on befell us. As soon as he was able to attend to his business again,
the Missourians began to harass him in every possible way, and kept it up with hardly a moments
cessation. Kickapoo City, as it was called, a small town that had sprung into existence seven miles
up the river from Fort Leavenworth, became the hot-bed of the pro-slavery doctrine and the
headquarters of its advocates. Here was really the beginning of the Kansas troubles. My father, who
had shed the first blood in the cause of the freedom of Kansas, was notified, upon his return to his
trading post, to leave the territory, and he was threatened with death by hanging or shooting, if he
dared to remain.

One night a body of armed men, mounted on horses, rode up to our house and surrounded it.
Knowing what they had come for, and seeing that there would be but little chance for him in an
encounter with them, father determined to make his escape by a little stratagem. Hastily disguising
himself in mother's bonnet and shawl, he boldly walked out of the house and proceeded towards the
corn-field. The darkness proved a great protection, as the horsemen, between whom he passed,
were unable to detect him in his disguise; supposing him to be a woman, they neither halted him nor
followed him, and he passed safely on into the corn-field, where he concealed himself.

The horsemen soon dismounted and inquired for father; mother very truthfully told them that he was
away. They were not satisfied with her statement, however, and they at once made a thorough search
of the house. They raved and swore when they could not find him, and threatened him with death
whenever they should catch him. I am sure if they had captured him that night they would have killed
him. They carried off nearly everything of value in the house and about the premises; then going to
the pasture, they drove off all the horses; my pony, Prince, afterward succeeded in breaking away
from them and came back home. Father lay secreted in the corn-field for three days, as there were
men in the vicinity who were watching for him all the time; he finally made his escape, and reached
Fort Leavenworth in safety, whither the pro-slavery men did not dare to follow him.

While he was staying at Fort Leavenworth he heard that Jim Lane, Captain Cleveland and Captain
Chandler were on their way from Indiana to Kansas with a body of Free State men, between two and
three hundred strong. They were to cross the Missouri River near Doniphan, between Leavenworth
and Nebraska City, their destination being Lawrence. Father determined to join them, and took
passage on a steamboat which was going up the river. Having reached the place of crossing, he
made himself known to the leaders of the party, by whom he was most cordially received.

The pro-slavery men, hearing of the approach of the Free State party, resolved to drive them out of
the territory. The two parties met at Hickory Point, were a severe battle was fought, several being
killed; the victory resulted in favor of the Free State men, who passed on to Lawrence without much
further opposition. My father finally left them, and seeing that he could no longer live at home, went
to Grasshopper Falls, thirty-five miles west of Leavenworth; there he began the erection of a
saw-mill.

While he was thus engaged we learned from one of our hired workmen at home, that the pro-slavery
men had laid another plan to kill him, and were on their way to Grasshopper Falls to carry out their
intention. Mother at once started me off on Prince (my pony) to warn father of the coming danger.
When I had gone about seven miles I suddenly came upon a party of men who were camped at the
crossing of Stranger Creek. As I passed along I heard one of them, who recognised me, saying,
"That's the son of the old Abolitionist we are after; " and the next moment I was commanded to halt.

Instead of stopping I instantly started my pony on a run, and on looking back I saw that I was being
pursued by three or four of the party, who had mounted their horses, no doubt supposing that they
could easily capture me. It was very fortunate that I had heard the remark about my being "the son
of the Abolitionist." for then I knew in an instant that they were en route to Grasshopper Falls to
murder my father. I at once saw the importance of my escaping and warning father in time. It was a
matter of life or death to him. So I urged Prince to his utmost speed, feeling that upon him and
myself depended a human life-a life that was dearer to me than that of any other man in the world. I
led my pursuers a lively chase for four or five miles; finally, when they saw they could not catch me,
they returned to their camp. I kept straight on to Grasshopper Falls, arriving there in ample time to
inform father of the approach of his old enemies. That same night he and I rode to Lawrence, which
had become the headquarters of the Free State men. There he met Jim Lane and several other leading
characters, who were then organising what was known as the Lecompton Legislature. Father was
elected a member of that body, and took an active part in organising the first Legislature of Kansas,
under Governor Reeder, who, by the way, was a Free State man and a great friend of father's.

About this time agents were being sent to the East to induce emigrants to locate in Kansas, and
father was sent as one of these agents to Ohio. After the Legislature had been organised at
Lawrence, he departed for Ohio and was absent several months A few days after he had gone, I
started for home by the way of Fort Leavenworth, accompanied by two men, who were going to the
fort on business. As we were crossing a stream called Little Stranger, we were fired upon by some
unknown party; one of my companions, whose name has escaped my memory, was killed. The
other man and myself put spurs to our horses and made a dash for our lives. We succeeded in
making our escape, though a farewell shot or two was sent after us. At Fort Leavenworth I parted
company with my companion, and reached home without any further adventure.

My mother and sisters, who had not heard of my father or myself since I had been sent to warn him
of his danger, had become very anxious and uneasy about us, and were uncertain as to whether we
were dead or alive. I received a warm welcome home, and as I entered the house, mother seemed to
read from the expression of my countenance that father was safe; of course the very first question
she asked was as to his whereabouts, and in reply I handed her a long letter from him which
explained everything. Mother blessed me again and again for having saved his life.

While father was absent in Ohio, we were almost daily visited by some of the pro-slavery men, who
helped themselves to anything they saw fit, and frequently compelled my mother and sisters to cook
for them, and to otherwise submit to a great deal of bad treatment. Hardly a day passed without
some of them inquiring "where the old man was," saying they would kill him on sight. Thus we
passed the summer of 1855, remaining at our home notwithstanding the unpleasant surroundings, as
mother had made up her mind not to be driven out of the country. My uncle and other friends
advised her to leave Kansas and move to Missouri, because they did not consider our lives safe, as
we lived so near the headquarters of the pro-slavery men, who had sworn vengeance upon father.

Nothing, however, could persuade mother to change her determination. She said that the pro-slavery
men had taken everything except the little home, and she proposed to remain there as long as she
lived, happen what might. Our only friends in Salt Creek Valley were two families; one named
Lawrence, the other Hathaway, and the peaceable Indians, who occasionally visited us. My uncle,
living in Missouri and being somewhat in fear of the pro-slavery men, could not assist us much,
beyond expressing his sympathy and sending us provisions.

In the winter of 1854-55 father returned from Ohio, but as soon as his old enemies learned that he
was with us, they again compelled him to leave. He proceeded to Lawrence, and there spent the
winter in attending the Lecompton Legislature. The remainder of the year he passed mostly at
Grasshopper Falls, where he completed his saw-mill. He occasionally visited home under cover of
the night, and in the most secret manner; virtually carrying his life in his hand.

In the spring of this year (1855) a pro-slavery party came to our house to search for father; not
finding him, they departed, taking with them my pony, Prince. I shall never forget the man who stole
that pony. He afterwards rose from the low level of a horse thief to the high dignity of a justice of the
peace, and I think still lives at Kickapoo. The loss of my faithful pony nearly broke my heart and
bankrupted me in business, as I had nothing to ride.

ENGAGEMENT WITH THE GREAT OVERLAND FREIGHTERS.
One day, soon afterwards, I met my old friend, Mr. Russell, to whom I related all my troubles, and
his generous heart was touched by my story. "Billy, my boy," said he, "cheer up, and come to
Leavenworth, and I'll employ you. I'll give you twentyfive dollars a month to herd cattle."

I accepted the offer, and heartily thanking him, hurried home to obtain mother's consent. She
refused to let me go, and all my pleading was in vain. Young as I was-being then only in my tenth
year, my ideas and knowledge of the world, however, being far in advance of my age-I determined
to run away from home. Mr. Russell's offer of twenty-five dollars a month was a temptation which I
could not resist. The remuneration for my services seemed very large to me, and I accordingly stole
away and walked to Leavenworth.

Mr. Badger, one of Mr. Russell's superintendents, immediately sent me out, mounted on a little gray
mule, to herd cattle. I worked at this for two months, and then came into Leavenworth. I had not
been home during all this time, but mother had learned from Mr. Russell where I was, and she no
longer felt uneasy, as he had advised her to let me remain in his employ. He assured her that I was all
right, and said that when the herd came in he would allow me to make a visit home.

Upon my arrival in Leavenworth with the herd of cattle, Mr. Russell instructed his book-keeper, Mr.
Byers, to pay me my wages, amounting to fifty dollars Byers gave me the sum all in half-dollar
pieces. I put the bright sliver coins into a sack, which I tied to my mule, and started home, thinking
myself a millionaire. This money I gave to mother, who had already forgiven me for running away.

Thus began my service for the firm of Russell & Majors, after wards Russell, Majors & Waddell,
with whom I spent seven years of my life in different capacities-such as cavallard-driver,
wagon-master, pony express rider and driver. I continued to work for Mr. Russell during the rest of
the summer of 1855, and in the winter of 1855-56 I attended school.

Father, who still continued to secretly visit home, was anxious to have his children receive as much
education as possible, under the adverse circumstances surrounding us, and he employed a teacher,
Miss Jennie Lyons, to come to our house and teach. My mother was well educated-more so than my
father-and it used to worry her a great deal because her children could not receive better educational
advantages. However, the little school at home got along exceedingly well, and we all made rapid
advances in our studies, as Miss Lyons was an excellent teacher. She afterwards married a
gentleman named Hook, who became the first mayor of Cheyenne, where she now lives.

A MOB OUTWITTED
The Kansas troubles reached their highest pitch in the spring of 1856, and our family continued to be
harassed as much as ever by our old enemies. I cannot now recollect one-half of the serious
difficulties that we had to encounter; but I very distinctly remember one incident well worth relating.
I came home one aight on a visit from Leavenworth, being accompanied by a fellow-herder-a young
man. During the night we heard a noise outside of the house, and soon the dogs began barking
loudly. We looked out to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and saw that the house was
surrounded by a party of men. Mother had become accustomed to such occurrences, and on this
occasion she seemed to be master of the situation from the start. Opening a window, she coolly
sang out, in a firm tone of voice "Who are you ? What do you want here?"

"We are after that old Abolition husband of yours," was the answer from one of the crowd.

"He is not in the house and has not been here for a long time," said my mother.

"That's a lie! We know he is in the house and we are bound to have him," said the spokesman of the
party.

I afterwards learned they had mistaken the herder, who had ridden home with me, for my father, for
whom they had been watching.

"My husband is not at home," emphatically repeated my heroic mother-for if there ever was a
heroine she certainly was one-"but the house is full of armed men," continued she, "and I'll give you
just two minutes to get out of the yard; if you are not out by the end of that time I shall order them to
fire on you."

She withdrew from the window for a few moments and hurriedly instructed the herder to call aloud
certain names-any that he might think of-just as if the house were full of men to whom he was giving
orders. He followed her directions to the very letter. He could not have done it any better had he
rehearsed the act a dozen times.

The party outside heard him, as it was intended they should, and they supposed that my mother
really had quite a force at her command. While this little by-play was being enacted, she stepped to
the open window again and said:-

"John Green, you and your friends had better go away or the men will surely fire on you."

At this point the herder, myself and my sisters commenced stamping on the fioor in imitation of a
squad of soldiers, and the herder issued his orders in a loud voice to his imaginary troops, who were
apparently approaching the window preparatory to firing a volley at the enemy. This little stratagem
proved eminently successful. The cowardly villains began retreating, and then my mother fired an
old gun into the air which greatly accelerated their speed, causing them to break and run. They soon
disappeared from view in the darkness. 

The next morning we accidentally discovered that they had intended to blow up the house. Upon
going into the cellar which had been left open on one side, we found two kegs of powder together
with a fuse secreted there. It only required a lighted match to have sent us into eternity. My mother's
presence of mind, which had never yet deserted her in any trying situation, had saved our lives.

ANOTHER ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE MY FATHER.
Shortly after this affair I came home again on a visit and found father there sick with fever and
confined to his bed. One day my old enemy rode up to the house on my pony Prince, which he had
stolen from me.

" What is your business here to-day? " asked mother.

"I am looking for the old man," he replied. "I am going to search the house, and if I find him I am
going to kill him. Here, you girls," said he, addressing my sisters, " get me some dinner, and get it
quick, too, for I am as hungry as a wolf."

"Very well; pray be seated, and we'll get you somethingto eat, " said one of my sisters, without
exhibiting the least sign of fear. 

He sat down, and while they were preparing a dinner for him, he took out a big knife and sharpened
it on a whetstone, repeating his threat of searching the house and killing my father.

I had witnessed the whole proceeding and heard the threats, and I determined that the man should
never go upstairs where father was lying in bed unable to rise. Taking a double-barreled pistol, which
I had recently bought, I went to the head of the stairs, cocked the weapon, and waited for the ruffian
to come up, determined, that the moment he set foot on the steps I would kill him. I was relieved,
however, from the stern necessity, as he did not make his appearance. 

The brute was considerably intoxicated when he came to the house, and the longer he sat still the
more his brain became muddled with liquor, and he actually forgot what he had come there for.
After he had eaten his dinner, he mounted his horse and rode off, and it was a fortunate thing for him
that he did.

Father soon recovered and returned to Grasshopper Falls while I resumed my cattle herding.

CHAPTER II.
MY FIRST LOVE AFFAIR.
Common school advantages were denied us in the early settlement of Kansas, and to provide a
means for educating the few boys and girls in the neighborhood of my home, a subscription school
was started in a small log-cabin that was built on the bank of a creek that ran near our house. My
mother took great interest in this school and at her persuasion I returned home and became enrolled
as a pupil, where I made satisfactory progress until the evil circumstance of a love affair suddenly
blasted my prospects for acquiring an education.

Like all school-boys, I had a sweetheart with whom I was 'dead in love"-in a juvenile way. Her name
was Mary Hyatt. Of course I had a rival, Stephen Gobel, a boy about three years my senior-the "
bully " of the school. He was terribly jealous, and sought in every way to revenge himself upon me
for having won the childish affections of sweet little Mary.

The boys of the school used to build play-houses or arbors among the trees and bushes for their
sweethearts. I had built a play-house for Mary, when Steve, as we called him, leveled it to the
ground. We immediately had a very lively fight, in which I got badly beaten. The teacher heard of our
quarrel and whipped us both. This made matters worse than ever, as I had received two thrashings
to Steve's one; I smothered my angry feelings as much as possible under the humiliating
circumstances, and during the afternoon recess built another play-house, thinking that Gobel would
not dare to destroy a second one; but I was mistaken, for he pushed the whole structure over at the
first opportunity. I came up to him just as he finished the job, and said:-

"Steve Gobel, the next time you do that, I'll hurt you." And I meant it too; but he laughed and called
me names.

At recess, next morning, I began the construction of still another play-house, and when I had it about
two-thirds finished, Steve slyly sneaked up to the spot and tipped the whole thing over. I jumped for
him with the quickness of a cat and clutching him by the throat for a moment I had the advantage of
him. But he was too strong for me, and soon had me on the ground and was beating me severely.
While away from home I had some way come into possession of a very small pocket dagger, which
I had carried about with me in its sheath, using it in place of a knife. During the struggle this fell from
my pocket, and my hand by accident rested upon it as it lay upon the ground. Exasperated beyond
measure at Steve' s persistence in destroying my play-houses, and smarting under his blows, I forgot
myself for the moment, grasped the dagger and unthinkingly thrust it into Steve's thigh. Had it been
larger it would probably have injured him severely; as it was, it made a small wound, sufficient to
cause the blood to flow freely and Steve to cry out in affright: "I am killed! O! I am killed!"

The school children all rushed to the spot and were terrified at the scene. "What's the matter?" asked
one. "Bill Cody has killed Steve Gobel," replied another.

The uproar reached the teacher's ear, and I now saw him approaching, with vengeance in his eye and
a big club in his hand. I knew that he was coming to interview me. I was dreadfully frightened at what
I had done, and undecided whether to run away or to remain and take the consequences; but the
sight of that flag-staff in the school teacher's hand was too much for me. I no longer hesitated, but
started off like a deer. The teacher followed in hot pursuit, but soon became convinced that he could
not catch me, and gave up the chase. I kept on running, until I reached one of Russell, Major &
Waddell's freight trains which I had noticed going over the hill for the West. Fortunately for me I
knew the wagon-master, John Willis, and as soon as I recovered my breath I told him what had
happened.

"Served him right, Billy!" said he, "and what's more, we'll go over and clean out the teacher."

"Oh no; don't do that," said I, for I was afraid that I might fall into the hands of the wounded boy's
friends, who I knew would soon be looking for me.

"Well, Billy, come along with me; I am bound for Fort Kearney; the trip will take me forty days. I
want you for a cavallard driver." 

"All right," I replied, "but I must go home and tell mother about it, and get some clothes."

" Well, then, to-night after we make our camp, I'll go back with you."

 

PURSUED BY THE WOUNDED BOY'S FATHER.
The affray broke up the school for the rest of the day as the excitement was too much for the
children. Late in the afternoon, after the train had moved on some considerable distance, I saw
Steve's father, his brother Frank, and one of the neighbors rapidly approaching.

"Mr. Willis, there comes old Gobel, with Frank and somebody else, and they are after me-what am I
going to do?" I asked.

"Let 'em come," said he, "they can't take you if I've got anything to say about it, and I rather think I
have. Get into one of the wagons-keep quiet and lay low. I'll manage this little job. Don't you fret a
bit about it."

I obeyed his orders and felt much easier.

Old Gobel, Frank and the neighbor soon came up and inquired for me.

"He's around here somewhere," said Mr. Willis.

"We want him," said Gobel; " he stabbed my son a little while ago, and I want to arrest him."

"Well, you can't get him; that settles it; so you needn't waste any of your time around here," said
Willis.

Gobel continued to talk for a few minutes, but getting no greater satisfaction, the trio returned home.

When night came, Willis accompanied me on horseback to my home. Mother, who had anxiously
searched for me everywhere- being afraid that something had befallen me at the hands of the
Gobels-was delighted to see me, notwithstanding the difficulty in which I had become involved. I at
once told her that at present I was afraid to remain at home, and had accordingly made up my mind
to absent myself for a few weeks or months-at least until the excitement should die out. Mr. Willis
said to her that he would take me to Fort Kearney with him and see that I was properly cared for,
and would bring me back safely in forty days.

Mother at first seriously objected to my going on this trip, fearing I would fall into the hands of
Indians. Her fears, however, were soon overcome, and she concluded to let me go. She fixed me up
a big bundle of clothing and gave me a quilt. Kissing her and my sisters a fond farewell, I started off
on my first trip across the plains, with a light heart, too, notwithstanding my trouble of a few hours
before.

The trip proved a most enjoyable one to me, although no incidents worthy of note occurred on the
way. On my return from Fort Kearney I was paid off the same as the rest of the employees. The
remainder of the summer and fall I spent in herding cattle and working for Russell, Majors &
Waddell.

I finally ventured home-not without some fear, however, of the Gobel family-and was delighted to
learn that during my absence mother had had an interview with Mr. Gobel, and having settled the
difficulty with him, the two families had become friends again, and I may state, incidentally, that they
ever remained so. I have since often met Stephen Gobel, and we have had many a laugh together
over our love affair and the affray at the school-house. Mary Hyatt, the innocent cause of the whole
difficulty, is now married and living in Chicago. Thus ended my first love scrape.

In the winter of 1856-57 my father, in company with a man named J. C. Boles, went to Cleveland,
Ohio, and organized a colony of about thirty families, whom they brought to Kansas and located on
the Grasshopper. Several of these families still reside there.

It was during this winter that father, after his return from Cleveland, caught a severe cold. This, in
connection with the wound he had received at Rively's-from which he had never entirely
recovered-affected him seriously, and in April, 1857, he died at home from kidney disease.

This sad event left my mother and the family in poor circumstances, and I determined to follow the
plains for a livelihood for them and myself. I had no difficulty in obtaining work under my old
employers, and in May, 1857, I started for Salt Lake City with a herd of beef cattle, in charge of
Frank and Bill McCarthy, for General Albert Sidney Johnston's army, which was then being sent
across the plains to fight the Mormons.

 

MY FIRST FIGHT WITH INDIANS.
Nothing occurred to interrupt our journey until we reached Plum Creek, on the South Platte River,
thirty-five miles west of Old Fort Kearney. We had made a morning drive and had camped for
dinner. The wagon-masters and a majority of the men had gone to sleep under the mess wagons; the
cattle were being guarded by three men, and the cook was preparing dinner. No one had any idea
that Indians were anywhere near us. The first warning we had that they were infesting that part of the
country was the firing of shots and the whoops and yells from a party of them, who, catching us
napping, gave us a most unwelcome surprise. All the men jumped to their feet and seized their guns.
They saw with astonishment the cattle running in every direction, they having been stampeded by the
Indians, who had shot and killed the three men who were on day-herd duty, and the red devils were
now charging down upon the rest of us.

I then thought of mother's fears of my falling into the hands of the Indians, and I had about made up
my mind that such was to be my fate; but when I saw how coolly and determinedly the McCarthy
brothers were conducting themselves and giving orders to the little band, I became convinced that
we would "stand the Indians off," as the saying is. Our men were all well armed with Colt's revolvers
and Mississippi yagers, which last carried a bullet, and two buckshots. 

The McCarthy boys, at the proper moment, gave orders to fire upon the advancing enemy. The
volley checked them, although they returned the compliment, and shot one of our party through the
leg. Frank McCarthy then sang out, " Boys, make a break for the slough yonder, and we can then
have the bank for a breastwork."

We made a run for the slough which was only a short distance off, and succeeded in safely reaching
it, bringing with us the wounded man. The bank proved to be a very effective breastwork, affording
us good protection. We had been there but a short time when Frank McCarthy, seeing that the longer
we were corralled the worse it would be for us, said:-

" Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to Fort Kearney by wading in the river and keeping the
bank for a breast-work."

We all agreed that this was the best plan, and we accordingly proceeded down the river several miles
in this way, managing to keep the Indians at a safe distance with our guns, until the slough made a
junction with the main Platte River. From there down we found the river at times quite deep, and in
order to carry the wounded man along with us, we constructed a raft of poles for his
accommodation, and in this way he was transported.

Occasionally the water would be too deep for us to wade, and we were obliged to put our weapons
on the raft and swim. The Indians followed us pretty close, and were continually watching for an
opportunity to get a good range and give us a raking fire. Covering ourselves by keeping well under
the bank, we pushed ahead as rapidly as possible, and made pretty good progress, the night finding
us still on the way and our enemies yet on our track.

 

HOW I KILLED MY FIRST INDIAN.
I, being the youngest and smallest of the party, became somewhat tired, and without noticing it I had
fallen behind the others for some little distance. It was about ten o'clock and we were keeping very
quiet and hugging close to the bank, when I happened to look up to the moon-lit sky and saw the
plumed head of an Indian peeping over the bank. Instead of hurrying ahead and alarming the men in a
quiet way, I instantly aimed my gun at his head and fired. The report rang out sharp and loud on the
night air, and was immediately followed by an Indian whoop, and the next moment about six feet of
dead Indian came tumbling into the river. I was not only overcome with astonishment, but was badly
scared, as I could hardly realize what I had done. I expected to see the whole force of Indians come
down upon us. While I was standing thus bewildered, the men, who had heard the shot and the
war-whoop and had seen the Indian take a tumble, came rushing back.

"Who fired that shot?" cried Frank McCarthy.

"I did," replied I, rather proudly, as my confidence returned and I saw the men coming up.

"Yes, and little Billy has killed an Indian stone-dead-too dead to skin," said one of the men, who had
approached nearer than the rest, and had almost stumbled upon the corpse. From that time forward I
became a hero and an Indian killer. This was, of course, the first Indian I had ever shot, and as I was
not then more than eleven years of age, my exploit created quite a sensation.

The other Indians, upon learning what had happened to their advance fired several shots without
effect but which hastened our retreat down the river. We reached Fort Kearney just as the reveille
was being sounded, bringing the wounded man with us 

After the peril through which are had passed it was a relief to feel that once more I was safe after
such a dangerous initiation. 

Frank McCarthy immediately reported to the commanding officer and informed him of all that had
happened. The commandant at once ordered a company of cavalry and one of infantry to proceed
to Plum Creek on a forced march-taking a howitzer with them-to endeavor to recapture the cattle
from the Indians.<

The firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell had a division agent at Kearney, and this agent mounted us
on mules so that we could accompany the troops. On reaching the place where the Indians had
surprised us, we found the bodies of the three men whom they had killed and scalped, and literally
cut into pieces. We of course buried the remains. We caught but few of the cattle; the most of them
having been driven off and stampeded with the buffaloes, there being numerous immense herds of
the latter in that section of the country at the time. The Indians' trail was discovered running south
towards the Republican river, and the troops followed it to the head of Plum creek, and there
abandoned it, returning to Fort Kearney without having seen a single redskin.

The company's agent, seeing that there was no further use for us in that vicinity-as we had lost our
cattle and mules-sent us back to Fort Leavenworth. The company, it is proper to state, did not have
to stand the loss of the expedition, as the government held itself responsible for such depredations
by the Indians.

On the day that I got into Leavenworth, sometime in July, I was interviewed for the first time in my
life by a newspaper reporter, and the next morning I found my name in print as "the youngest Indian
slayer on the plains." I am candid enough to admit that I felt very much elated over this notoriety.
Again and again I read with eager interest the long and sensational account of our adventure. My
exploit was related in a very graphic manner, and for a long time afterwards I was considerable of a
hero. The reporter who had thus set me up; as I then thought, on the highest pinnacle of fame, was
John Hutchinson, and I felt very grateful to him. He now lives in Wichita, Kansas.

 

ON THE ROAD TO SALT LAKE
In the following summer Russell, Majors and Waddell entered upon a contract with the government
for transporting supplies for General Albert Sidney Johnston's army that was sent against the
Mormons. A large number of teams and teamsters were required for this purpose, and as the route
was considered a dangerous one, men were not easily engaged for the service, though the pay was
forty dollars per month in gold. An old wagon master named Lew Simpson, one of the best that ever
commanded a bull-train, was upon the point of starting with about ten wagons for the company,
direct for Salt Lake, and as he had known me for some time as an ambitious youth, requested me to
accompany him as an extra hand. My duties would be light, and in fact I would have nothing to do,
unless some one of the drivers should become sick, in which case I would be required to take his
place. But even more seductive than this inducement was the promise that I should be provided with
a mule of my own to ride, and be subject to the orders of no one save Simpson himself.

The offer was made in such a manner that I became at once wild to go, but my mother interposed an
emphatic objection and urged me to abandon so reckless a desire. She reminded me that in addition
to the fact that the trip would possibly occupy a year, the journey was one of extreme peril, beset as
it was by Mormon assassins and treacherous Indians, and begged me to accept the lesson of my last
experience and narrow escape as a providential warning. But to her pleadings and remonstrances I
returned the answer that I had determined to follow the plains as an occupation, and while I
appreciated her advice and desired greatly to honor her commands, yet I could not forego my
determination to accompany the train.

Seeing that it was impossible to keep me at home, she reluctantly gave her consent, but not until she
had called upon Mr. Russell and Mr. Simpson in regard to the matter, and had obtained from the
latter gentleman his promise that I should be well taken care of, if we had to winter in the mountains.
She did not like the appearance of Simpson, and upon inquiry she learned, to her dismay, that he
was a desperate character, and that on nearly every trip he had made across the plains he had killed
some one. Such a man, she thought, was not a fit master or companion for her son, and she was
very anxious to have me go with some other wagon-master; but I still insisted upon remaining with
Simpson.

"Madam, l can assure you that Lew Simpson is one of the most reliable wagon-masters on the
plains," said Mr. Russell, "and he has taken a great fancy to Billy. If your boy is bound to go, he can
go with no better man. No one will dare to impose on him while he is with Lew Simpson, whom I
will instruct to take good care of the boy. Upon reaching Fort Laramie, Billy can, if he wishes,
exchange places with some fresh man coming back on a returning train, and thus come home without
making the whole trip."

This seemed to satisfy mother, and then she had a long talk with Simpson himself, imploring him not
to forget his promise to take good care of her precious boy. He promised everything that she asked.
Thus, after much trouble, I became one of the members of Simpson's train. Before taking our
departure, I arranged with Russell, Majors & Waddel that when my pay fell due it should be paid
over to mother.

 

DESCRIPTION OF THE BULL-TRAIN OUTFIT.
As a matter of interest to the general reader, it may be well in this connection to give a brief
description of a freight trail. The wagons used in those days by Russell, Majors & Waddel were
known as the "J. Murphy wagons," made at St. Louis specially for the plains business. They were
very large and were strongly built, being capable of carrying seven thousand pounds of freight each.
The wagon-boxes were very commodious-being about as large as the rooms of an ordinary
house-and were covered with two heavy canvas sheets to protect the merchandise from the rain.
These wagons were generally sent out from Leavenworth, each loaded with six thousand pounds of
freight, and each drawn by several yokes of oxen in charge of one driver. A train consisted of
twenty-five wagons, all in charge of one man, who was known as the wagon-master. The second
man in command was the assistant wagon-master; then came the is extra hand," next the night
herder; and lastly, the cavallard driver, whose duty it was to drive the lame and loose cattle. There
were thirty-one men all told in a train. The men did their own cooking, being divided into messes of
seven. One man cooked, another brought wood and water, another stood guard, and so on, each
having some duty to perform while getting meals. All were heavily armed with Colt's pistols and
Mississippi yagers, and every one always had his weapons handy so as to be prepared for any
emergency.

The wagon-master, in the language of the plains, was called the "bull-wagon boss; " the teamsters
were known as " bull-whackers; " and the whole train was denominated a "bull-outfit." Everything at
that time was called an "outfit. " The men of the plains were always full of droll humor and exciting
stories of their own experiences, and many an hour I spent in listening to the recitals of thrilling
adventures and hair-breadth escapes.

 

THE TRAIL.
The trail to Salt Lake ran through Kansas northwestwardly, crossing the Big Blue River, then over
the Big and Little Sandy, coming into Nebraska near the Big Sandy. The next stream of any
importance was the Little Blue, along which the trail ran for sixty miles; then crossed a range of
sand-hills, and struck the Platte River ten miles below old Fort Kearney; thence the course lay up the
South Platte to the old Ash Hollow Crossing, thence eighteen miles across to the North Platte, near
the mouth of the Blue Water, where General Harney had his great battle in 1855 with the Sioux and
Cheyenne Indians. From this point the North Platte was followed, passing Court House Rock,
Chimney Rock and Scott's Bluffs, and then on to Fort Laramie, where the Laramie River was
crossed. Still following the North Platte for some considerable distance, the trail crossed the river at
old Richard's Bridge, and followed it up to the celebrated Red Buttes, crossing the Willow Creeks to
the Sweet Water, passing the great Independence Rock and the Devil's Gate, up to the Three
Crossings of the Sweet Water, thence past the Cold Springs, where, three feet under the sod, on the
hottest day of summer, ice can be found; thence to the Hot Springs and the Rocky Ridge, and
through the Rocky Mountains and Echo Canyon, and thence on to the great Salt Lake Valley.

In order to take care of the business which then offered, the freight for transportation being almost
exclusively government provisions, Russell, Majors & Waddell operated 6,250 wagons, for the
hauling of which they used 75,000 oxen, and gave employment to 8,000 men; the capital invested by
these three freighters was nearly $2,000,000. In their operations, involving such an immense sum of
money, and employing a class of laborers incomparably reckless, some very stringent rules were
adopted by the firm, to which all their employees were made to subscribe.

In this code of discipline was the following obligation: "I, do hereby solemnly swear, before the
Great and Living God, that during my engagement, and while I am in the employ of Russell, Majors
& Waddell, that I will under no circumstances use profane language; that I will drink no intoxicating
liquors of any kind; that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employee of the firm and that in
every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as will
win the confidence and esteem of my employers, so help me God . "

This oath was the creation of Mr. Majors, who was a very pious and rigid disciplinarian; he tried
hard to enforce it, but how great was his failure it is needless to say. It would have been equally
profitable had the old gentleman read the riot act to a herd of stampeded buffaloes. And he believes
it himself now.

 

A BUFFALO STAMPEDE.
Nothing transpired on the trip to delay or give us any trouble whatever, until the train struck the
South Platte River. One day we camped on the same ground where the Indians had surprised the
cattle herd in charge of the McCarthy brothers. It was with difficulty that we discovered any traces
of anybody ever having camped there before, the only landmark being the single grave, now covered
with grass, in which we had buried the three men who had been killed. The country was alive with
buffaloes. Vast herds of these monarchs of the plains were roaming all around us, and we laid over
one day for a grand hunt. Besides killing quite a number of buffaloes and having a day of rare sport,
we captured ten or twelve head of cattle, they being a portion of the herd which had been stampeded
by the Indians two months before. The next day we pulled out of camp, and the train was strung out
to a considerable length along the road which ran near the foot of the sand-hills, two miles from the
river. Between the road and the river we saw a large herd of buffaloes grazing quietly, they having
been down to the stream for a drink.

Just at this time we observed a party of returning Californians coming from the west. They, too,
noticed the buffalo herd, and in another moment they were dashing down upon them, urging their
steeds to the greatest speed. The buffalo herd stampeded at once and broke down the hills; so hotly
were they pursued by the hunters that about five hundred of them rushed through our train pell-mell,
frightening both men, and oxen. Some of the wagons were turned clear round, and many of the
terrified oxen attempted to run to the a w hills, with the heavy wagons attached to them. Others
turned around so short that they broke the wagons tongues off. Nearly all the teams got entangled in
their gearing, and became wild and unruly, so that the perplexed drivers were, all unable to manage
them.

The buffaloes, the cattle and the drivers were soon running in every direction, and the excitement
upset nearly everybody and everything. Many of the cattle broke their yokes and stampeded. One
big buffalo bull became entangled in one of the heavy wagon-chains, and it is a fact that in his
desperate efforts to free himself he not only actually snapped the strong chain in two, but broke the
ox-yoke to which it was attached, and the last seen of him he was running towards the hills with it
hanging from his horns. A dozen other equally remarkable incidents happened during the short time
that the frantic buffaloes were playing havoc with our train, and when they got through and left us
our outfit was badly crippled and scattered. This caused us to go into camp and spend a day in
replacing the broken tongues and repairing other damages, and gathering up our scattered ox-teams.

 

CAPTURED BY DANITES.
The next day we rolled out of camp and proceeded on our way towards the setting sun. Everything
ran along smoothly with us from that point until we came within about eighteen miles of Green River,
in the Rocky Mountains-where we camped at noon. At this place we had to drive our cattle about a
mile and a half to a creek to water them. Simpson, his assistant George Woods and myself,
accompanied by the usual number of guards, drove the cattle over to the creek, and while on our
way back to camp we suddenly observed a party of twenty horsemen rapidly approaching us. We
were not yet in view of our wagons, as a rise of ground intervened, and therefore we could not signal
the train-men in case of any unexpected danger befalling us. We had no suspicion, however, that we
were about to be trapped, as the strangers were white men. When they had come up to us, one of
the party, who evidently was the leader, rode out in front and said:- 

"How are you, Mr. Simpson?"

"You've got the best of me, sir," said Simpson, who did not know him.

"Well, I rather think I have," coolly replied the stranger, whose words conveyed a double meaning,
as we soon learned. We had all come to a halt by this time and the strange horsemen had surrounded
us. They were all armed with double-barreled shot guns, rifles and revolvers. We also were armed
with revolvers, but we had had no idea of danger, and these men, much to our surprise, had a got the
drop on us and had covered us with their weapons, so that we were completely at their mercy. The
whole movement of corralling us was done so quietly and quickly that it was accomplished before
we knew it.

"I'll trouble you for your six shooters, gentlemen," now said the leader.

"I'll give 'em to you in a way you don't want," replied Simpson. 

The next moment three guns were leveled at Simpson. "If you make a move you're a dead man,"
said the leader.

Simpson saw that he was taken at a great disadvantage, and thinking it advisable not to risk the lives
of the party by any rash act on his part, he said: "I see now that you have the best of me, but who
are you, anyhow?"

"I am Joe Smith," was the reply.

"What l the leader of the Danites?" asked Simpson.

"You are correct," said Smith, for he it was.

"Yes," said Simpson, " I know you now; you are a spying scoundrel."

Simpson had good reason for calling him this and applying to him a much more opprobrious epithet,
for only a short time before this, Joe Smith had visited our train in the disguise of a teamster, and had
remained with us two days. He suddenly disappeared, no one knowing where he had gone or why he
had come among us. But it was all explained to us now that he had returned with his Mormon
Danites. After they had disarmed us, Simpson asked, "Well, Smith, what are you going to do with
us?"

"Ride back with us and I'll soon show you," said Smith.

 

DESTRUCTION OF THE TRAIN BY MORMONS.
We had no idea of the surprise which awaited us. As we came upon the top of the ridge, from which
we could view our camp, we were astonished to see the remainder of the train-men disarmed and
stationed in a group and surrounded by another squad of Danites, while other Mormons were
searching our wagons for such articles as they wanted.

"How is this ?" inquired Simpson. "How did you surprise my camp without a struggle? I can't
understand it."

"Easily enough," said Smith; "your men were all asleep under the wagons, except the cooks, who
saw us coming and took us for returning Californians or emigrants, and paid no attention to us until
we rode up and surrounded your train. With our arms covering the men, we woke them up, and told
them all they had to do was to walk out and drop their pistols-which they saw was the best thing they
could do under circumstances over which they had no control-and you can just bet they did it."

"And what do you propose to do with us now?" asked Simpson.

"I intend to burn your train," said he; "you are loaded with supplies and ammunition for Sidney
Johnston, and as I have no way to convey the stuff to my own people, I'll see that it does not reach
the United States troops."

"Are you going to turn us adrift here?" asked Simpson, who was anxious to learn what was to
become of himself and his men.

" No; I am hardly so bad as that. I'll give you enough provisions to last you until you can reach Fort
Bridger," replied Smith; "and as soon as your cooks can get the stuff out of the wagons, you can
start."

"On foot?" was the laconic inquiry of Simpson.

"Yes, sir," was the equally short reply.

"Smith, that's too rough on us men. Put yourself in our place and see how you would like it," said
Simpson; "you can well afford to give us at least one wagon and six yokes of oxen to convey us and
our clothing and provisions to Fort Bridger. You're a brute if you don't do this."

"Well," said Smith, after consulting a minute or two with some of his company, ; "I'll do that much
for you."

The cattle and the wagon were brought up according to his orders, and the clothing and provisions
were loaded on.

"Now you can go," said Smith, after everything had been arranged. 

"Joe Smith, I think you are a mean coward to set us afloat in a hostile country without giving us our
arms," said Simpson, who had once before asked for the weapons, and had had his request denied. 

Smith, after further consultation with his comrades, said: "Simpson, you are too brave a man to be
turned adrift here without any means of defence. You shall have your revolvers and guns." Our
weapons were accordingly handed over to Simpson, and we at once started for Fort Bridger,
knowing that it would be useless to attempt the recapture of our train.

When we had traveled about two miles we saw the smoke arising from our old camp. The Mormons
after taking what goods they wanted and could carry off, had set fire to the wagons, many of which
were loaded with bacon, lard, hardtack, and other provisions, which made a very hot, fierce fire, and
the smoke to roll up in dense clouds. Some of the wagons were loaded with ammunition, and it was
not long before loud explosions followed in rapid succession. We waited and witnessed the burning
of the train, and then pushed on to Fort Bridger. Arriving at this post, we learned that two other
trains had been captured and destroyed in the same way, by the Mormons. This made seventy-five
wagon loads, or 450,000 pounds of supplies, mostly provisions, which never reached General
Johnston's command to which they had been consigned.

 

AT THE POINT OF STARVATION.
After reaching the fort, it being far in November, we decided to spend the winter there with about
four hundred other employees of Russell, Majors & Waddell, rather than attempt a return, which
would have exposed us to many dangers and the severity of the rapidly approaching winter. During
this period of hibernation, however, the larders of the commissary became so depleted that we were
placed on one quarter rations, and at length, as a final resort, the poor, dreadfully emaciated mules
and oxen were killed to afford sustenance for our famishing party.

Fort Bridger being located in a prairie, all fuel there used had to be carried for a distance of nearly
two miles, and after our mules and oxen were butchered we had no other recourse than to carry the
wood on our backs or haul it on sleds, a very tedious and laborious alternative.

Starvation was beginning to lurk about the post when spring approached, and but for the timely
arrival of a westward-bound train loaded with provisions for Johnston's army some of our party
must certainly have fallen victims to deadly hunger.

The winter finally passed away, and early in the spring, as soon as we could travel, the civil
employees of the government, with the teamsters and freighters, started for the Missouri River, the
Johnston expedition having been abandoned.

On the way down we stopped at Fort Laramie, and there met a supply train bound westward. Of
course we all had a square meal once more, consisting of hard tack, bacon, coffee and beans. I can
honestly say that I thought it was the best meal I had ever eaten; at least I relished it more than any
other, and I think the rest of the party did the same.

On leaving Fort Laramie, Simpson was made brigade wagonmaster, and was put in charge of two
large trains, with about four hundred extra men, who were bound for Fort Leavenworth. When we
came to Ash Hollow, instead of taking the usual trail over to the South Platte, Simpson concluded to
follow the North Platte down to its junction with the South Platte. The two trains were traveling about
fifteen miles apart, when one morning while Simpson was with the rear train, he told his assistant
wagonmaster, George Woods and myself to saddle up our mules, as he wanted us to go with him
and overtake the head train.

 

ATTACKED BY INDIANS.
We started off at about eleven o'clock, and had ridden about seven miles, when-while we were on a
big plateau, back of Cedar Bluffs-we suddenly discovered a band of Indians coming out of the head
of a ravine, half a mile distant, and charging down upon us at full speed. I thought that our end had
come this time. Simpson, however, was equal to the occasion, for with wonderful promptness he
jumped from his jaded mule and in a trice shot his own animal and ours also and ordered us to assist
him to jerk their bodies into a triangle. This being quickly done we got inside the barricade of mule
flesh and were prepared to receive the Indians. We were each armed with a Mississippi yager and
two revolvers, and as the Indians came swooping down on our improvised fort we opened fire with
such good effect that three fell dead to the first volley. This caused them to retreat out of range, as
with two exceptions they were armed with bows and arrows and therefore to approach near enough
to do execution would expose at least several of them to certain death.

Seeing that they could not take our little fortification, or drive us from it, they circled around several
times, shooting their arrows at us. One of these struck George Wood in the left shoulders inflicting
only a slight wound, however, and several lodged in the bodies of the dead mules; otherwise they did
us no harm. The Indians finally galloped off to a safe distance, where our bullets could not reach
them, and seemed to be holding a council. This was a lucky move for us, for it gave us an
opportunity to reload our guns and pistols, and prepare for the next charge of the enemy. During the
brief cessation of hostilities, Simpson extracted the arrow from Wood's shoulder, and put an
immense quid of tobacco on the wound. Wood was then ready for business again.

The Indians did not give us a very long rest, for with another desperate charge, as if to ride over us,
they came dashing towards the mule barricade. We gave them a hot reception from our yagers and
revolvers. They could not stand or understand the rapidly repeating fire of the revolver, and we
checked them again. They circled around once more and gave us a few parting shots as they rode
off, leaving behind them another dead Indian and a horse.

For two hours afterwards they did not seem to be doing anything but holding a council. We made
good use of this time by digging up the ground inside the barricade with our knives and throwing the
loose earth around and over the mules, and we soon had a very respectable fortification. We were
not troubled any more that day, but during the night the cunning rascals tried to burn us out by
setting fire to the prairie. The buffalo grass was so short that the fire did not trouble us much, but the
smoke concealed the Indians from our view, and they thought that they could approach close to us
without being seen. We were aware of this and kept a sharp look-out, being prepared all the time to
receive them. They finally abandoned the idea of surprising us.

 

A TIMELY RESCUE.
Next morning, bright and early, they gave us one more grand charge and again we "stood them off."
They then rode away half a mile or so and formed a circle around us. Each man dismounted and sat
down, as if to wait and starve us out. They had evidently seen the advance train pass on the morning
of the previous day, and believed that we belonged to that outfit and were trying to overtake it; they
had no idea that another train was on its way after us.

Our hopes of escape from this unpleasant and perilous situation now depended upon the arrival of
the rear train, and when we saw that the Indians were going to besiege us instead of renewing their
attacks, we felt rather confident of receiving timely assistance. We had expected that the train would
be along late in the afternoon of the previous day, and as the morning wore away we were somewhat
anxious and uneasy at its non-arrival.

At last, about ten o'clock, we began to hear in the distance the loud and sharp reports of the big
bull-whips, which were handled with great dexterity by the teamsters, and cracked like rifle shots.
These were as welcome sounds to us as were the notes of the bagpipes to the besieged garrison at
Lucknow, when the re-enforcements were coming up and the pipers were heard playing, "The
Campbells are Coming." In a few moments we saw the lead or head wagon coming slowly over the
ridge, which had concealed the train from our view, and soon the whole outfit made its appearance.
The Indians observed the approaching train and assembling in a group they held a short consultation.
They then charged upon us once more, for the last time, and as they turned and dashed away over
the prairie we sent our farewell shots rattling after them. The teamsters, seeing the Indians and
hearing the shots, came rushing forward to our assistance, but by the time they reached us the
red-skins had almost disappeared from view. The teamsters eagerly asked us a hundred questions
concerning our fight, admired our fort and praised our pluck. Simpson's remarkable presence of
mind in planning the defense was the general topic of conversation among all the men.

When the teams came up we obtained some water and bandages with which to dress Wood's
wound, which had become quite inflamed and painful, and we then put him into one of the wagons.
Simpson and myself obtained a remount, bade good-bye to our dead mules which had served us so
well, and after collecting the ornaments and other plunder from the dead Indians, we left their bodies
and bones to bleach on the prairie. The train moved on again and we had no other adventures except
several exciting buffalo hunts on the South Platte, near Plum Creek.

We arrived at Fort Leavenworth about the middle of July, 1858, when I immediately visited home. I
found mother in very poor health, as she was suffering from asthma. My oldest sister Martha, had,
during my absence, been married to John Crone, and was living at Leavenworth.

 

ENGAGE IN TRAPPING.
I had been home only about a month, after returning from Fort Bridger, when I again started out with
another train, going this time as assistant wagon-master under Buck Bomer. We went safely through
to Fort Laramie, which was our destination, and from there we were ordered to take a load of
supplies to a new post called Fort Wallace, which was being established at Cheyenne Pass. We
made this trip and got back to Fort Laramie about November 1st. I then quit the employ of Russell,
Majors & Waddell, and joined a party of trappers who were sent out by the post trader, Mr. Ward,
to trap on the streams of the Chugwater and Laramie for beaver, otter, and other fur animals, and
also to poison wolves for their pelts. We were out two months, but as the expedition did not prove
very profitable, and was rather dangerous on account of the Indians, we abandoned the enterprise
and came into Fort Laramie in the latter part of December.

Being anxious to return to the Missouri River, I joined with two others, named Scott and Charley,
who were also desirous of going East on a visit, bought three ponies and a pack-mule, and we
started out together. We made rapid progress on our journey, and nothing worthy of note happened
until, one afternoon, along the banks of the Little Blue River, we spied a band of Indians hunting on
the opposite side of the stream, three miles away. We did not escape their notice, and they gave us a
lively chase for two hours, but they could find no good crossing, and as evening came on we finally
got away from them. 

We traveled until late in the night, when upon discovering a lone, deep ravine which we thought
would make a comfortable and safe camping-place, we stopped for a rest. In searching for a good
place to make our beds, I found a hole, and called to my companions that I had found a fine place
for a nest. One of the party was to stand guard while the others slept. Scott took the first watch,
while Charley and I prepared our beds.

 

A HORRIBLE DISCOVERY.
While clearing out the place we felt something rough, but as it was dark we could not make out what
it was. At any rate we concluded that it was bones or sticks of wood; we thought perhaps it might be
the bones of some animal which had fallen in there and died. These bones, for such they really
proved to be, we pushed one side and then we lay down. But Charley, being an inveterate smoker,
could not resist the temptation of indulging in a smoke before going to sleep. So he sat up and
struck a match to light his old pipe. Our subterranean bed-chamber was thus illuminated for a
moment or two; I sprang to my feet in an instant for a ghastly and horrifying sight was revealed to
us. Eight or ten human skeletons lay scattered upon the ground!

The light of the match died out, but we had seen enough to convince us that we were in a large
grave, into which, perhaps, some unfortunate emigrants, who had been killed by the Indians, had
been thrown; or, probably, seeking refuge there, they had been corralled and then killed on the spot.
If such were the case they had met the fate of thousands of others, whose friends have never heard
of them since they left their Eastern homes to seek their fortunes in the far West. However, we did
not care to investigate this mystery any further, but we hustled out of that chamber of death and
informed Scott of our discovery. Most of the plainsmen are very superstitious, and we were no
exception to the general rule. We surely thought that this incident was an evil omen, and that we
would be killed if we remained there any longer.

"Let us dig out of here quicker than We can say Jack Robinson," said Scott; and we began to "dig
out " at once. We saddled our animals and hurriedly pushed forward through the darkness traveling
several miles before we again went into camp. Next morning it was snowing fiercely, but we
proceeded as best we could, and that night we succeeded in reaching Oak Grove ranch which had
been built during the summer. We here obtained comfortable accommodations and plenty to eat and
drink-especially the latter.

Scott and Charley were great lovers and consumers of " tanglefoot " and they soon got gloriously
drunk, keeping it up for three days, during which time they gambled with the ranchmen, who got
away with all their money; but little they cared for that, as they had their spree. They finally sobered
up, and we resumed our journey, urging our jaded animals as much as they could stand, until we
struck Marysville oil the Big Blue. From this place to Leavenworth we secured first-rate
accommodations along the road, as the country had become pretty well settled.

It was in February, 1859, that I got home As there was now a good school in the neighborhood,
taught by Mr. Devinny, my mother wished me to attend it, and I did so for two months and a half-the
longest period of schooling that I ever received at any one time in my life. As soon as the spring
came and the grass began growing, I became uneasy and discontented, and again longed for the free
and open life of the plains.

 

OFF FOR PIKES PEAK.
The Pike's Peak gold excitement was then at its height, and everybody was rushing to the new gold
diggings. I caught the gold fever myself, and joined a party bound for the new town of Auraria on
Cherry Creek, afterwards called Denver, in honor of the then Governor of Kansas. On arriving at
Auraria we pushed on to the gold streams in the mountains, passing up through Golden Gate and
over Guy Hill, and thence on to Black Hawk. We prospected for two months, but as none of us
knew anything about mining we met with very poor success, and therefore concluded that
prospecting for gold was not our forte. We accordingly abandoned the enterprise and turned our
faces eastward once more.

When we struck the Platte River, the happy thought of constructing a small raft-which would float us
clear to the Missouri and thence down to Leavenworth-entered our heads, and we accordingly
carried out the plan. Upon the completion of the raft, we stocked it with provisions and " set sail "
down the stream. It was a light craft and a jolly crew, and all was smooth sailing for four or five
days.

When we got near old Julesburg we met with a serious mishap. Our raft ran into an eddy, and quick
as lightning went to pieces, throwing us all into the stream, which was so deep that we had to swim
ashore. We lost everything we had, which greatly discouraged us, and we thereupon abandoned the
idea of rafting it any further. We then walked over to Julesburg, which was only a few miles distant.
This ranch, which became a somewhat famous spot, had been established by "Old Jules," a
Frenchman, who was afterwards killed by the notorious Alf Slade.

 

A PONY EXPRESS RIDER.
The great pony express, about which so much has been said and written, was at that time just being
started. The line was being stocked with horses and put into good running condition. At Julesburg I
met Mr. George Chrisman, the leading wagonmaster of Russell, Majors & Waddell, who had always
been a good friend to me. He had bought out "Old Jules," and was then the owner of Julesburg
ranch, and the agent of the pony express line. He hired me at once as a pony express rider, but as I
was so young he thought I was not able to stand the fierce riding which was required of the
messengers. He knew, however, that I had been raised in the saddle-that I felt more at home there
than in any other place-and as he saw that I was confident that I could stand the racket, and could
ride as far and endure it as well as some of the old riders, he gave me a short route of forty-five
miles, with the stations fifteen miles apart, and three changes of horses. I was required to make
fifteen miles an hour, including the changes of horses. I was fortunate in getting well broken animals,
and being so light, I easily made my forty-five miles on time on my first trip out, and ever afterwards.

I wrote to mother and told her how well I liked the exciting life of a pony express rider. She replied,
and begged of me to give it up, as it would surely kill me. She was right about this, as fifteen miles an
hour on horseback would, in a short time, shake any man " all to pieces; " and there were but very
few, if any, riders who could stand it for any great length of time. Nevertheless, I stuck to it for two
months, and then, upon receiving a letter informing me that my mother was very sick, I gave it up
and went back to the old home in Salt Creek Valley.


CHAPTER III
ACCIDENTS AND ESCAPES
My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long, and in November, after
the recovery of my mother, I went up the Republican river and its tributaries on a trapping expedition
in company with Dave Harrington. Our outfit consisted of one wagon and a yoke of oxen for the
transportation of provisions, traps and other necessaries. We began trapping near Junction City,
Kansas, and then proceeded up the Republican River to the mouth of Prairie Dog Creek, where we
found plenty of beavers.

Having seen no signs of Indians thus far, we felt comparatively safe. We were catching a large
number of beavers and were prospering finely, when one of our oxen, having become rather poor,
slipped and fell upon the ice, dislocating his hip, so that we had to shoot him to end his misery. This
left us without a team; but we cared little for that, however, as we had made up our minds to remain
there till spring, but it was decided that one of us should go to the nearest settlement and get a yoke
of oxen with which to haul our wagon into some place of safety where we could leave it.

We would probably have pulled through the winter all right had it not been for a very serious
accident which befell me just at that time. Spying a herd of elk, we started in pursuit of them, and
creeping up towards them as slyly as possible, while going around the bend of a sharp bluff or bank
of the creek I slipped and broke my leg just above the ankle. Notwithstanding the great pain I was
suffering, Harrington could not help laughing when I urged him to shoot me, as he had the ox, and
thus end my misery. He told me to "brace up," and that he would bring me out "all right." "I am not
much of a surgeon," said he, "but I can fix that leg of yours, even if I haven't got a diploma."

He succeeded in getting me back to camp, which was only a few yards from the creek, and then he
set the fracture as well as he knew how and made me as comfortable as was possible under the
circumstances. We then discussed the situation, which, to say the least, looked pretty blue. Knowing
that, owing to our mishaps, we could not do anything more that winter, and as l dreaded the idea of
lying there on my back with a broken leg for weeks, and perhaps months, I prevailed upon
Harrington to go to the nearest settlement &emdash;about one hundred and twenty-five miles distant
&emdash;to obtain a yoke of cattle and then come back for me.

This he consented to do; but before leaving he gathered plenty of wood, and as the ground was
covered with snow, I would have no difficulty in getting water if I had a fire. There was plenty of
fresh meat and other provisions in the "dug-out," so that I had no fears of starvation. The "dug-out,"
which we had built immediately after we had determined to remain there all winter, was a cosy hole in
the ground, covered with poles, grass and sod, with a fire-place in one end.

Harrington thought it would take him twenty days or more to make the round trip; but being well
provided for &emdash;for this length of time &emdash;I urged him to go at once. Bidding me
goodbye, he started on foot. After his departure, each day, as it came and went, seemed to grow
longer to me as I lay there helpless and alone. I made a note of each day, so as to know the time
when I might expect him back.

 

A DESPERATE SITUATION.
On the twelfth day after Harrington had left me I was awakened from a sound sleep by some one
touching me upon the shoulder. I looked up and was astonished to see an Indian warrior standing at
my side. His face was hideously daubed with paint which told me more forcibly than words could
have done that he was on the war-path. He spoke to me in broken English and Sioux mixed, and I
understood him to ask what I was doing there, and how many there were with me.

By this time the little dug-out was nearly filled with other Indians, who had been peeping in at the
door, and I could hear voices of still more outside as well as the stamping of horses. I began to think
that my time had come, as the saying is, when into the cabin stepped an elderly Indian, whom I
readily recognised as old Rain-in-the-Face, a Sioux chief from the vicinity of Fort Laramie. I rose up
as well as I could and showed him my broken leg. I told him where I had seen him, and asked him if
he remembered me. He replied that he knew me well, and that I used to come to his lodge at Fort
Laramie to visit him. I then managed to make him understand that I was there alone and having
broken my leg, I had sent my partner off for a team to take me away. I asked him if his young men
intended to kill me, and he answered that was what they had proposed to do, but he would see what
they had to say.

The Indians then talked among themselves for a few minutes, and upon the conclusion of the
consultation, old Rain-in-the-Face turned to me and gave me to understand that as I was yet a
"papoose," or a very young man, they would not take my life. But one of his men who had no
fire-arms wanted my gun and pistol. I implored old Rain-in-the-Face to be allowed to keep the
weapons, or at least one of them, as I needed something with which to keep the wolves away. He
replied that as his young men were out on the war path, he had induced them to spare my life; but he
could not prevent them from taking whatever else they wanted.

They unsaddled their horses as if to remain there for some time, and sure enough they stayed the
remainder of the day and all night. They built a fire in the dug-out and cooked a lot of my provisions,
helping themselves to everything as if they owned it. However, they were polite enough to give me
some of the food after they had cooked it. It was a sumptuous feast that they had, and they seemed
to relish it as if it were the best layout they had had for many a long day. They took all my sugar and
coffee, and left me only some meat and a small quantity of flour, a little salt and some
baking-powder. They also robbed me of such cooking utensils as they wished; then bidding me
good-bye, early in the morning, they mounted their ponies and rode off to the south, evidently bent
on some murdering and thieving expedition.

I was glad enough to see them leave, as my life had undoubtedly hung by a thread during their
presence. I am confident that had it not been for my youth and the timely recognition and
interference of old Rain-in-the-Face they would have killed me without any hesitation or ceremony.

The second day after the Indians left it began snowing, and for three long and weary days the snow
continued to fall thick and fast. It blocked the door-way and covered the dug-out to the depth of
several feet, so that I became a snow-bound prisoner. My wood was mostly under the snow, and it
was with great difficulty that I could get enough to start a fire with. My prospects were gloomy
indeed. I had just faced death at the hands of the Indians, and now I was in danger of losing my life
from starvation and cold. I knew that the heavy snow would surely delay Harrington on his return;
and I feared that he might have perished in the storm, or that some other accident might have befallen
him. Perhaps some wandering band of Indians had surprised and killed him.

I was continually thinking of all these possibilities, and I must say that my outlook seemed desperate.
At last the twentieth day arrived &emdash;the day on which Harrington was to return &emdash;and I
counted the hours from morning till night but the day passed away with no signs of Harrington. The
wolves made the night hideous with their howls; they gathered around the dug-out; ran over the roof;
and pawed and scratched as if trying to get in.

Several days and nights thus wore away, the monotony all the time becoming greater, until at last it
became almost unendurable. Some days I would go without any fire at all, and eat raw frozen meat
and melt snow in my mouth for water. I became almost convinced that Harrington had been caught
in the storm and had been buried under the snow, or was lost. Many a time during that dreary period
of uncertainty I made up my mind that if I ever got out of that place alive I would abandon the plains
and the life of a trapper forever. I had nearly given up all hopes of leaving the dug-out alive.

 

A JOYOUS MEETING.
It was on the twenty-ninth day, while I was lying thus despondently thinking and wondering, that I
heard the cheerful sound of Harrington's voice as he came slowly up the creek, yelling, "whoa!
haw!"to his cattle. A criminal on the scaffold, with the noose around his neck, the trap about to be
sprung, and receiving a pardon just at the last moment, thus giving him a new lease of life, could not
have been more grateful than I was at that time. It was useless for me to try to force the door open,
as the snow had completely blockaded it, and I therefore anxiously awaited Harrington's arrival.

"Hello! Billy!" he sang out in a loud voice as he came up, he evidently being uncertain as to my being
alive.

"All right, Dave," was my reply.

"Well, old boy, you're alive, are you?" said he.

"Yes; and that's about all. I've had a tough siege of it since you've been away, and I came pretty
nearly passing in my chips. I began to think you never would get here, as I was afraid you had been
snowed under," said I.

He soon cleared away the snow from the entrance and opening the door he came in. I don't think
there ever was a more welcome visitor than he was. I remember that I was so glad to see him that I
put my arms around his neck and hugged him for five minutes; never shall I forget faithful Dave
Harrington.

"Well, Billy, my boy, I hardly expected to see you alive again," said Harrington, as soon as I had
given him an opportunity to draw his breath; "I had a terrible trip of it,and I didn't think I ever would
get through. I was caught in the snowstorm, and was laid up for three days. The cattle wandered
away, and I came within an ace of losing them altogether. When I got started again the snow was so
deep that it prevented me from making much headway. But as I had left you here I was bound to
come through, or die in the attempt."

Again I flung my arms around Dave's neck and gave him a hug that would have done honor to a
grizzly bear. My gratitude was thus much more forcibly expressed than it could have been by words.
Harrington understood this, and seemed to appreciate it. The tears of joy rolled down my cheeks,
and it was impossible for me to restrain them. When my life had been threatened by the Indians I had
not felt half so miserable as when I lay in the dug-out thinking I was destined to die a slow death by
starvation and cold. The Indians would have made short work of it, and would have given me little or
no time to think of my fate.

I questioned Harrington as to his trip, and learned all the details. He had passed through hardships
which but few men could have endured. Noble fellow, that he was. He had risked his own life to
save mine.

After he had finished his story, every word of which I had listened to with eager interest, I related to
him my own experiences, in which he became no less interested. He expressed great astonishment
that the Indians had not killed me, and he considered it one of the luckiest and most remarkable
escapes he had ever heard of. It amused me, however, to see him get very angry when I told him that
they had taken my gun and pistol and had used up our provisions. "But never mind, Billy," said he,
"we can stand it till the snow goes off, which will not be long, and then we will pull our wagon back
to the settlements."

 

THE RETURN AND DEATH OF HARRtNGTON
A few days afterwards Harrington gathered up our traps, and cleaned the snow out of the wagon.
Covering it with the sheet which we had used in the dug-out, he made a comfortable bed inside, and
helped me into it. We had been quite successful in trapping, having caught three hundred beavers
and one hundred otters, the skins of which Harrington loaded on the wagon. We then pulled out for
the settlements, making good headway, as the snow had nearly disappeared, having been blown or
melted away, so that we had no difficulty in finding a road. On the eighth day out we came to a
farmer's house, or ranch, on the Republican river, where we stopped and rested for two days, and
then went on to the ranch where Harrington had obtained the yoke of cattle. We gave the owner of
the team twenty-five beaver skins, equal to $60, for the use of the cattle, and he let us have them until
we reached Junction City, sending his boy with us to bring them back

At Junction City we sold our wagon and furs and went with a government mule train to Leavenworth
&emdash;arriving there in March, 1860. I was just able to get around on crutches when I got into
Leavenworth, and it was several months after that before I entirely recovered the use of my leg.

During the winter I had often talked to Harrington about my mother and sisters, and had invited him
to go home with me in the spring. I now renewed the invitation, which he accepted, and
accompanied me home. When I related to mother my adventures and told her how Harrington had
saved my life, she thanked him again and again. I never saw a more grateful woman than she was.
She asked him to always make his home with us, as she never could reward him sufficiently for what
he had done for her darling boy, as she called me. Harrington concluded to remain with us through
the summer and farm mother's land. But alas! the uncertainty of life. The coming of death when least
expected was strikingly illustrated in his case. During the latter part of April he went to a nursery for
some trees, and while coming home late at night he caught a severe cold and was taken seriously
sick, with lung fever. Mother did everything in her power for him. She could not have done more had
he been her own son, but notwithstanding her motherly care and attention, and the skill of a
physician from Leavenworth, he rapidly grew worse. It seemed hard, indeed, to think that a great
strong man like Harrington, who had braved the storms and endured the other hardships of the plains
all winter long, should, during the warm and beautiful days of spring, when surrounded by friends
and the comforts of a good home, be fatally stricken down. But such was his fate. He died one week
from the day on which he was taken sick. We all mourned his loss as we would that of a loved son
or brother, as he was one of the truest, bravest, and best of friends. Amid sorrow and tears we laid
him away to rest in a picturesque spot on Pilot Knob. His death cast a gloom over our household,
and it was a long time before it was entirely dispelled. I felt very lonely without Harrington, and I
soon wished for a change of scene again.


CHAPTER IV
ADVENTURES ON THE OVERLAND ROAD
As the warm days of summer approached I longed for the cool air of the mountains; and to the
mountains I determined to go. After engaging a man to take care of the farm, I proceeded to
Leavenworth and there met my old wagon-master and friend, Lewis Simpson, who was fitting out a
train at Atchison and loading it with supplies for the Overland Stage Company, of which Mr.
Russell, my old employer, was one of the proprietors. Simpson was going with this train to Fort
Laramie and points further west.

"Come along with me, Billy," said he, "I'll give you a good lay-out. I want you with me."

"I don't know that I would like to go so far west as that again," I replied, "but I do want to ride the
pony express once more; there's some life in that."

"Yes, that's so; but it will soon shake the life out of you," said he. "However, if that's what you've
got your mind set on, you had better come to Atchison with me and see Mr. Russell, who I'm pretty
certain will give you a situation."

I replied that I would do that. I then went home and informed mother of my intention, and as her
health was very poor I had great difficulty in obtaining her consent. I finally convinced her that as I
was of no use on the farm, it would be better and more profitable for me to return to the plains. So
after giving her all the money I had earned by trapping, I bade her goodbye and set out for Atchison.

I met Mr. Russell there and asked him for employment as a pony express -rider; he gave me a letter
to Mr. Slade, who was then the stage agent for the division extending from Julesburg to Rocky
Ridge. Slade had his headquarters at Horseshoe Station, thirty-six miles west of Fort Laramie, and I
made the trip thither in company with Simpson and his train.

Almost the very first person I saw after dismounting from my horse was Slade. I walked up to him
and presented Mr. Russell's letter, which he hastily opened and read. With a sweeping glance of his
eye he took my measure from head to foot, and then said:&emdash;

"My boy, you are too young for a pony express-rider. It takes men for that business "

"I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's division, sir, and filled the bill then; and I think I am
better able to ride now," said I.

"What ! are you the boy that was riding there, and was called the youngest rider on the road ?"

"I am the same boy," I replied, confident that everything was now all right for me.

"I have heard of you before. You are a year or so older now, and I think you can stand it. I'll give
you a trial anyhow and if you weaken you can come back to Horse Shoe Station and tend stock."

That ended our first interview. The next day he assigned me to duty on the road from Red Buttes on
the North Platte, to the Three Crossings of the Sweetwater &emdash;a distance of seventy-six miles
&emdash;a nd I began riding at once. It was a long piece of road, but I was equal to the undertaking;
and soon afterwards had an opportunity to exhibit my power of endurance as a pony express-rider. 

One day when I galloped into Three Crossings, my home station, I found that the rider who was
expected to take the trip out on my arrival, had gotten into a drunken row the night before and been
killed. This left that division without a rider and as it was very difficult to engage men for the service
in that uninhabited region, the superintendent requested me to make the trip until another rider could
be secured. The distance to the next station, Rocky Ridge, was eighty-five miles and through a very
bad and dangerous country, but the emergency was great and I concluded to try it. I therefore
started promptly from Three Crossings without more than a moment's rest and pushed on with usual
rapidity, entering every relay station on time and accomplishing the round trip of three hundred and
twenty-two miles back to Red Buttes without a single mishap and on time. This stands on the
records as being the longest pony express journey ever made.

 

PURSUED BY INDIANS.
A week after making this trip, and while passing over the route again, I was jumped by a band of
Sioux Indians who dashed out from a sand ravine nine miles west of Horse creek. They were armed
with pistols and gave me a close call with several bullets, but it fortunately happened that I was
mounted on the fleetest horse belonging to the Express Company, and one that was possessed of
remarkable endurance. Being cut off from retreat back to Horse Shoe, I put spurs to my horse, and
lying flat on his back, kept straight for Sweetwater, the next station, which I reached without
accident, having distanced my pursuers. Upon reaching that place, however, I found a sorry
condition of affairs, as the Indians had made a raid on the station the morning of my adventure with
them, and after killing the stock-tender had driven off all the horses, so that I was unable to get a
remount. I therefore continued on to Ploutz's Station &emdash;twelve miles further &emdash;thus
making twenty-four miles straight run with one horse. I told the people at Ploutz's what had
happened at Sweetwater Bridge, and with a fresh horse went on and finished the trip without any
further adventure.

 

ATTACK ON A STAGE COACH.
About the middle of September the Indians became very troublesome on the line of the stage road
along the Sweetwater. Between Split Rock and Three Crossings they robbed a stage, killed the driver
and two passengers, and badly wounded Lieut. Flowers, the assistant division agent. The
red-skinned thieves also drove off the stock from the different stations, and were continually lying in
wait for the passing stages and pony express riders, so that we had to take many desperate chances
in running the gauntlet.

The Indians had now become so bad and had stolen so much stock that it was decided to stop the
pony express for at least six weeks, and to run the stages only occasionally during that period; in
fact, it would have been almost impossible to have continued the enterprise much longer without
restocking the line.

While we were thus nearly all lying idle, a party was organized to go out and search for stolen stock.
This party was composed of stage-drivers, express-riders, stock-tenders, and ranchmen
&emdash;forty of them altogether &emdash;and they were well-armed and well-mounted. They were
mostly men who had undergone all kinds of hardships and braved every danger, and they were ready
and anxious to "tackle " any number of Indians. Wild Bill (who had been driving stage on the road
and had recently come down to our division) was elected captain of the company.

It was supposed that the stolen stock had been taken to the head of Powder river and vicinity, and
the party, of which I was a member, started out for that section in high hopes of success.

Twenty miles out from Sweetwater Bridges at the head of Horse creek, we found an Indian trail
running north towards Powder river, and we could see by the tracks that most of the horses had
been recently shod and were undoubtedly our stolen stage-stock. Pushing rapidly forwards we
followed this trail to Powder river; thence down this stream to within about forty miles of the spot
where old Fort Reno now stands. Here the trail took a more westerly course along the foot of the
mountains, leading eventually to Crazy Woman's fork &emdash;a tributary of Powder river. At this
point we discovered that the party whom we were trailing had been joined by another band of
Indians, and judging from the fresh appearance of the trail, the united body could not have left this
spot more than twenty-four hours before.

 

A CHARGE THROUGH THE INDIAN CAMP
Being aware that we were now in the heart of the hostile country and might at any moment find more
Indians than we had "lost," we advanced with more caution than usual and kept a sharp lookout. As
we were approaching Clear creek, another tributary of Powder river, we discovered Indians on the
opposite side of the creek, some three miles distant; at least we saw horses grazing which was a sure
sign that there were Indians there.

The Indians thinking themselves in comparative safety &emdash;never before having been followed
so far into their own country by white men &emdash;had neglected to put out any scouts. They had
no idea that there were any white men in that part of the country. We got the lay of their camp, and
then held a council to consider and mature a plan for capturing it. We knew full well that the Indians
would outnumber us at least three to one, and perhaps more. Upon the advice and suggestion of
Wild Bill, it was finally decided that we should wait until it was nearly dark, and then, after creeping
as close to them as possible, make a dash through their camp, open a general fire on them, and then
stampede the horses.

This plan, at the proper time, was most successfully executed. The dash upon the enemy was a
complete surprise to them. They were so overcome with astonishment that they did not know what
to make of it. We could not have astounded them any more had we dropped down into their camp
from the clouds. They did not recover from the surprise of this sudden charge until after we had
ridden pellmell through their camp and got away with our own horses as well as theirs. We at once
circled the horses around towards the south, and after getting them on the south side of Clear creek,
some twenty of our men &emdash;just as the darkness was coming on &emdash;rode back and
gave the Indians a few parting shots. We then took up our line of march for Sweetwater Bridge,
where we arrived four days afterwards with all our own horses and about one hundred captured
Indian ponies.

 

A GENERAL DRUNK BUT ONLY ONE MURDER.
The expedition had proved a grand success, and the event was celebrated in the usual manner
&emdash;by a grand spree. The only store at Sweetwater Bridge did a rushing business for several
days. The returned stock-hunters drank and gambled and fought. The Indian ponies, which had been
distributed among the captors, passed from hand to hand at almost every deal of the cards. There
seemed to be no limit to the rioting and carousing; revelry reigned supreme. On the third day of the
orgie, Slade, who had heard the news, came up to the bridge and took a hand in the "fun," as it was
called. To add some variation and excitement to the occasion, Slade got into a quarrel with a
stage-driver and shot him, killing him almost instantly.

The "boys " became so elated as well as "elevated " over their success against the Indians that most
of them were in favor of going back and cleaning out the whole Indian race. One old driver
especially, Dan Smith, was eager to open a war on all the hostile nations, and had the drinking been
continued another week he certainly would have undertaken the job, single-handed and alone. The
spree finally came to an end; the men sobered down and abandoned the idea of again invading the
hostile country. The recovered horses were replaced on the road and the stages and pony express
again began running on time.

Slade, having taken a great fancy to me, said: "Billy, I want you to come down to my headquarters,
and I'll make you a sort of supernumerary rider, and send you out only when it is necessary." 

 

A HUNT FOR BEAR.
I accepted the offer and went with him down to Horseshoe, where I had a comparatively easy time
of it. I had always been fond of hunting, and I now had a good opportunity to gratify my ambition in
that direction, as I had plenty of spare time on my hands. In this connection I will relate one of my
bear-hunting adventures. One day, when I had nothing else to do, I saddled up an extra pony
express horse, and arming myself with a good rifle and pair of revolvers, struck out for the foot-hills
of Laramie Peak for a bear-hunt. Riding carelessly along, and breathing the cool and bracing autumn
air which came down from the mountains, I felt as only a man can feel who is roaming over the
prairies of the far West, well armed and mounted on a fleet and gallant steed. The perfect freedom
which he enjoys is in itself a refreshing stimulant to the mind as well as to the body. Such indeed
were my feelings on this beautiful day as I rode up the valley of the Horseshoe. Occasionally I
scared up a flock of sage-hens or a jack-rabbit. Antelopes and deer were alntost always in sight in
any direction, but as they were not the kind of game I was after on that day I passed them by and
kept on towards the higher mountains. The further I rode the rougher and wilder became the country,
and I knew that I was approaching the haunts of the bear. I did not discover any, however, although
I saw plenty of tracks in the snow.

About two o'clock in the afternoon, my horse having become tired, and myself being rather weary, I
shot a sage-hen and, dismounting, I unsaddled my horse and tied him to a small tree, where he could
easily feed on the mountain grass. I then built a little fire, and broiling the chicken and seasoning it
with salt and pepper, which I had obtained from my saddle-bags, I soon sat down to a "genuine
square meal," which I greatly relished.

After resting for a couple of hours, I remounted and resumed my upward trip to the mountain,
having made up my mind to camp out that night rather than go back without a bear, which my
friends knew I had gone out for. As the days were growing short, night soon came on, and I looked
around for a suitable camping place. While thus engaged, I scared up a flock of sage-hens, two of
which I shot, intending to have one for supper and the other for breakfast.

By this time it was becoming quite dark, and I rode down to one of the little mountain streams,
where I found an open place in the timber suitable for a camp. I dismounted, and after unsaddling
my horse and hitching him to a tree, I prepared to start a fire. Just then I was startled by hearing a
horse whinnying further up the stream. It was quite a surprise to me, and I immediately ran to my
animal to keep him from answering, as horses usually do in such cases. I thought that the strange
horse might belong to some roaming band of Indians, as I knew of no white men being in that
portion of the country at that time. I was certain that the owner of the strange horse could not be far
distant, and I was very anxious to find out who my neighbor was, before letting him know that I was
in his vicinity. I therefore resaddled my horse, and leaving him tied so that I could easily reach him I
took my gun and started out on a scouting expedition up the stream. I had gone about four hundred
yards when, in a bend of the stream, I discovered ten or fifteen horses grazing.

 

A ROBBERS' HAUNT DISCOVERED.
On the opposite side of the creek, a light was shining high up the mountain bank. Approaching the
mysterious spot as cautiously as possible, and when within a few yards of the light &emdash;which I
discovered came from a dug-out in the mountain side &emdash;I heard voices, and soon I was able
to distinguish the words, as they proved to be in my own language. Then I knew that the occupants
of the dug-out, whence the voices proceeded, were white men. Thinking that they might be a party of
trappers, I boldly walked up to the door and knocked for admission. The voices instantly ceased,
and for a moment a death-like silence reigned inside. Then there seemed to follow a kind of hurried
whispering &emdash;a sort of consultation &emdash;and then some one called out:&emdash;

"Who's there?"

"A friend and a white man," I replied.

The door opened, and a big, ugly-looking fellow stepped forth and said:&emdash;

"Come in."

I accepted the invitation with some degree of fear and hesitation, which I endeavored to conceal, as I
saw that it was too late to back out, and that it would never do to weaken at that point, whether they
were friends or foes. Upon entering the dug-out my eyes fell upon eight as rough and villainous
looking men as I ever saw in my life. Two of them I instantly recognised as teamsters who had been
driving in Lew Simpson's train, a few months before, and had been discharged. 

They were charged with the murdering and robbing of a ranchman; and having stolen his horses it
was supposed that they had left the country. I gave them no signs of recognition however, deeming it
advisable to let them remain in ignorance as to who I was. It was a hard crowd, and I concluded that
the sooner I could get away from them the better it would be for me. I felt confident that they were a
band of horse-thieves.

"Where are you going, young man; and who's with you?" asked one of the men who appeared to be
the leader of the gang.

"I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe Station this morning for a bear-hunt, and not finding any bears,
I had determined to camp out for the night and wait till morning," said I; "and just as I was going into
camp, a few hundred yards down the creek I heard one of your horses whinnying, and then I came
to your camp."

I was thus explicit in my statement in order, if possible, to satisfy the cut-throats that I was not
spying upon them, but that my intrusion was entirely accidental.

"Where's your horse?" demanded the boss thief.

"I left him down the creek," I answered.

 

IN A TIGHT PLACE.
They proposed going after the horse, but I thought that that would never do, as it would leave me
without any means of escape, and I accordingly said, in hopes to throw them off the track, "Captain,
I'll leave my gun here and go down and get my horse, and come back and stay all night."

I said this in as cheerful and as careless a manner as possible, so as not to arouse their suspicions in
any way or lead them to think that I was aware of their true character. I hated to part with my gun,
but my suggestion of leaving it was a part of the plan of escape which I had arranged. If they have
the gun, thought I, they will surely believe that I intend to come back. But this little game did not
work at all, as one of the desperadoes spoke up and said:&emdash; 

"Jim and I will go down with you after your horse, and you can leave your gun here all the same, as
you'll not need it."

"All right," I replied, for I could certainly have said nothing else. It became evident to me that it
would be better to trust myself with two men than with the whole party. It was apparent from this
time on I would have to be on the alert for some good opportunity to give them the slip.

"Come along," said one of them, and together we went down the creek, and soon came to the spot
where my horse was tied. One of the men unhitched the animal and said: "I'll lead the horse."

"Very well," said I, "I've got a couple of sage-hens here. Lead on."

I picked up the sage-hens, which I had killed a few hours before, and followed the man who was
leading the horse, while his companion brought up the rear. The nearer we approached the dug-out
the more I dreaded the idea of going back among the villainous cut-throats. My first plan of escape
having failed, I now determined upon another. I had both of my revolvers with me, the thieves not
having thought it necessary to search me. It was now quite dark, and I purposely dropped one of the
sage-hens, and asked the man behind me to pick it up. While he was hunting for it on the ground, I
quickly pulled out one of my Colt's revolvers and struck him a tremendous blow on the back of the
head, knocking him senseless to the ground. I then instantly wheeled around, and saw that the man
ahead, who was only a few feet distant, had heard the blow and had turned to see what was the
matter, his hand upon his revolver. We faced each other at about the same instant, but before he
could fire, as he tried to do, I shot him dead in his tracks. Then jumping on my horse, I rode down
the creek as fast as possible, through the darkness and over the rough ground and rocks.

The other outlaws in the dug-out, having heard the shot which I had fired, knew there was trouble,
and they all came rushing down the creek. I suppose by the time they reached the man whom I had
knocked down, that he had recovered and hurriedly told them of what had happened. They did not
stay with the man whom I had shot, but came on in hot pursuit of me. They were not mounted, and
were making better time down the rough mountain than I was on horseback. From time to time I
heard them gradually gaining on me.

At last they had come so near that I saw that I must abandon my horse. So I jumped to the ground,
and gave him a hard flap with the butt of one of my revolvers, which started him on down the valley,
while I scrambled up the mountain side. I had not ascended more than forty feet when I heard my
pursuers coming closer and closer; I quickly hid behind a large pine tree, and in a few moments they
all rushed by me, being led on by the rattling footsteps of my horse, which they heard ahead of them.
Soon they began firing in the direction of the horse, as they no doubt supposed I was still seated on
his back. As soon as they had passed me I climbed further up the steep mountain, and knowing that
I had given them the slip, and feeling certain I could keep out of their way, I at once struck out for
Horseshoe Station, which was twenty-five miles distant. I had hard traveling at first but upon
reaching lower and better ground I made good headway, walking all night and getting into the station
just before daylight, &emdash;foot-sore, weary, and generally played out.

I immediately waked up the men of the station and told them of my adventure. Slade himself
happened to be there, and he at once organized a party to go out in pursuit of the horse thieves
Shortly after daylight twenty well armed stage-drivers, stocktenders and ranchmen were galloping in
the direction of the dug-out. Of course I went along with the party, notwithstanding I was very tired
and had had hardly any rest at all. We had a brisk ride, and arrived in the immediate vicinity of the
thieves'rendezvous at about ten o'clock in the morning. We approached the dug-out cautiously, but
upon getting in close proximity to it we could discover no horses in sight. We could see the door of
the dug-out standing wide open, and we then marched up to the place. No one was inside and the
general appearance of everything indicated that the place had been deserted &emdash;that the birds
bad flown. Such, indeed, proved to be the case.

We found a new-made grave, where they had evidently buried the man whom I had shot. We made a
thorough search of the whole vicinity, and finally found their trail going southeast in the direction of
Denver. As it would have been useless to follow them, we rode back to the station; and thus ended
my eventful bear-hunt. We had no more trouble for some time from horse-thieves after that.

During the winter of 1860 and the spring of 1861 I remained at Horseshoe, occasionally riding pony
express and taking care of stock, but meeting with no adventure worthy to be recorded.

                                       CHAPTER V
AN INGLORIOUS SERVICE.
Following the breaking out of the great Civil War in 1861, a general desertion of stage-drivers and
express riders took place, a majority of whom were natural rovers, and always looking out for
change of employment. I was not an exception, and as it had now been nearly a year since I saw my
mother, while reports of her ill health frequently reached me, I decided to pay her a visit, and at the
same time determine, if government service promised better pay and more excitement than I had
been getting out of my engagement with the express company, to join the army. In pursuance of this
resolve I went to Leavenworth, which was at that time an important outfitting post for the West and
Southwest.

While in the city one day I met several of the old, as well as the young men, who had been members
of the Free State party all through the Kansas troubles, and who had, like our family, lost everything
at the hands of the Missourians. They now thought a good opportunity offered to retaliate and get
even with their persecutors, as they were all considered to be Secessionists. That they were all
Secessionists, however, was not true, as all of them did not sympathise with the South. But the Free
State men, myself among them, took it for granted that as Missouri was a slave State the inhabitants
must all be Secessionists, and therefore our enemies. A man by the name of Chandler proposed that
we organize an independent company for the purpose of invading Missouri and making war on its
people on our own responsibility. He at once went about it in a very quiet way, and succeed in
inducing twenty-five men to join him in the hazardous enterprise. Having a longing and revengeful
desire to retaliate upon the Missourians for the brutal manner in which they had treated and robbed
my family, I became a member of Chandler's company. His plan was that we should leave our
homes in parties of not more than two or three together, and meet at a certain point near Westport,
Missouri, on a fixed day. His instructions were carried out, and we assembled at the rendezvous at
the appointed time. Chandler had been there some days before us and, thoroughly disguised, had
been looking around the country for the whereabouts of all the best horses. He directed us to
secretly visit certain farms and collect all the horses possible, and bring them together the next night.
This we did, and upon reassembling it was found that nearly every man had two horses. We
immediately struck out for the Kansas line, which we crossed at the Indian ferry on the Kansas
River, above Wyandotte, and as soon as we had set foot upon Kansas soil we separated with the
understanding that we were to meet one week from that day at Leavenworth.

Some of the parties boldly took their confiscated horses into Leavenworth, while others rode them
to their homes. This action may look to the reader like horse-stealing, and some people might not
hesitate to call it by that name; but Chandler plausibly maintained that we were only getting back our
own, or the equivalent, from the Missourians, and as the government was waging war against the
South, it was perfectly square and honest, and we had a good right to do it. So we didn't let our
consciences trouble us very much.

We continued to make similar raids upon the Missourians off and on during the summer, and
occasionally we had running fights with them; none of the skirmishes, however, amounting to much.
The government officials hearing of our operations, put detectives upon our track, and several of the
party were arrested. My mother, upon learning that I was engaged in this business, told me it was
neither honorable nor right, and she would not for a moment countenance any such proceedings.
Consequently I abandoned the jay-hawking enterprise, for such it really was.

After abandoning the enterprise of crippling the Confederacy by appropriating the horses of
non-combatants, I went to Leavenworth, where I met my old friend, Wild Bill, who was on the point
of departing for Rolla, Mo., to assume the position of wagon master of a government train. At his
request to join him as an assistant I cheerfully accompanied him to Rolla, where we loaded a number
of wagons with government freight and drove them to Springfield.

 

BUSTED AT A HORSE-RACE
On our return to Rolla we heard a great deal of talk about the approaching fall races at St. Louis, and
Wild Bill having brought a fast running horse from the mountains, determined to take him to that city
and match him against some of the high-flyers there; and down to St. Louis we went with this
running horse, placing our hopes very high on him.

Wild Bill had no difficulty in making up a race for him. All the money that he and I had we put up on
the mountain runner, and as we thought we had a sure thing, we also bet the horse against $250. I
rode the horse myself, but nevertheless, our sure thing, like many another sure thing, proved a total
failure, and we came out of that race minus the horse and every dollar we had in the world.

Before the race it had been "make or break" with us, and we got "broke." We were "busted" in the
largest city we had ever been in, and it is no exaggeration to say that we felt mighty blue.

On the morning after the race we went to the military headquarters, where Bill succeeded in securing
an engagement for himself as a government scout, but I being so young failed in obtaining similar
employment. Wild Bill, however, raised some money, by borrowing it from a friend, and then buying
me a steamboat ticket he sent me back to Leavenworth, while he went to Springfield, which place he
made his headquarters while scouting in Southeastern Missouri.

 

A DUEL IN THE STREET
One night, after he had returned from a scouting expedition, he took a hand in a game of poker, and
in the course of the play he became involved in a quarrel with Dave Tutt, a professional gambler,
about a watch which he had won from Tutt, but who would not give it up.

Bill told him he had won it fairly, and that he proposed to have it; furthermore, he declared his
intention of carrying the watch across the street next morning to military headquarters, at which place
he had to report at nine o'clock. To which boast Tutt replied that he would himself carry the watch
across the street at nine o'clock, and no other man would do it.

"If you make the attempt one of us will have to die at the hour named," was the answer Bill returned,
and then walked carelessly away.

A challenge to a duel had virtually been given and accepted, and everybody knew that the two men
meant business. At nine o'clock the next morning, Tutt started to cross the street. Wild Bill, who was
standing on the opposite side, told him to stop. At that moment Tutt, who was carrying his revolver
in his hand, fired at Bill but missed him. Bill quickly pulled out his revolver and returned the fire,
hitting Tutt squarely in the forehead and killing him instantly.

Quite a number of Tutt's friends were standing in the vicinity, having assembled to witness the duel,
and Bill, as soon as Tutt fell to the ground, turned to them and asked if any one of them wanted to
take it up for Tutt; if so, he would accommodate any of them then and there. But none of them cared
to stand in front of Wild Bill to be shot at by him. Nothing of course was ever done to Bill for the
killing of Tutt.



CHAPTER VI
HOW I BECAME A SOLDIER
Early in the fall of 1861 I made a trip to Fort Larned, Kansas, carrying military dispatches, and in the
winter I accompanied George Long through the country, and assisted him in buying horses for the
government.

The next spring, 1862, an expedition against the Indians was organized, consisting of a volunteer
regiment, the Ninth Kansas under Colonel Clark . This expedition, which I had joined in the capacity
of guide and scout, proceeded to the Kiowa and Comanche country, on the Arkansas river, along
which stream we scouted all summer between Fort Lyon and Fort Larned, on the old Santa Fe trail.
We had several engagements with the Indians, but they were of no great importance. 

In the winter of 1862, I became one of the "Red Legged Scouts," &emdash;a company of scouts
commanded by Captain Tuff. Among its members were some of the most noted Kansas Rangers,
such as Red Clark, the St. Clair brothers, Jack Harvey, an old pony express-rider named Johnny
Fry, and many other well known frontiersmen. Our field of operations was confined mostly to the
Arkansas country and Southwestern Missouri. We had many a lively skirmish with the bushwhackers
and Younger brothers, and when we were not hunting them, we were generally employed in carrying
dispatches between Forts Dodge, Gibson, Leavenworth and other posts. Whenever we were in
Leavenworth we had a very festive time. We usually attended all the balls in full force, and "ran
things" to suit ourselves. Thus I passed the winter of 1862 and the spring of 1863.

Subsequently I engaged to conduct a small train to Denver for some merchants, and on reaching that
place in September, I received a letter stating that my mother was not expected to live. I hastened
home, and found her dangerously ill. She grew gradually worse, and at last, on the 22d of
November, 1863, she died. Thus passed away a loving and affectionate mother and a noble, brave,
good and loyal woman.

Previous to this sad event my sister Julia had been married to a gentleman named J. A. Goodman,
and they now came to reside at our house and take charge of the children, as my mother had desired
that they should not be separated. Mr. Goodman became the guardian of the minor children.

 

WITH THE JAY-HAWKERS
I soon left the home now rendered gloomy by the absence of her whom I had so tenderly loved and
going to Leavenworth I entered upon a dissolute and reckless life &emdash;to my shame be it said
&emdash;and associated with gamblers, drunkards, and bad characters generally. I continued my
dissipation about two months, and was becoming a very "hard case." About this time the Seventh
Kansas regiment, known as "Jennison's Jayhawkers," returned from the war, and re-enlisted and
reorganized as veterans. Among them I met quite a number of my old comrades and neighbors, who
tried to induce me to enlist and go South with them. I had no idea of doing anything of the kind; but
one day, after having been under the influence of bad whisky, I awoke to find myself a soldier in the
Seventh Kansas. I did not remember how or when I had enlisted, but I saw I was in for it, and that it
would not do for me to endeavor to back out.

In the spring of 1864 the regiment was ordered to Tennessee, and we got into Memphis just about
the time that General Sturgis was so badly whipped by General Forrest. General A. J. Smith
re-organized the army to operate against Forrest and after marching to Tupalo, Mississippi, we had
an engagement with him and defeated him. This kind of fighting was all new to me, being entirely
different from any in which I had ever before engaged. I soon became a non-commissioned officer,
and was put on detached service as a scout.

After skirmishing around the country with the rest of the army for some little time, our regiment
returned to Memphis, but was immediately ordered to Cape Giradeau, in Missouri, as a Confederate
force under General Price was then raiding that State. The command of which my regiment was a par
thurried to the front to intercept Price, and our first fight with him occurred at Pilot Knob. From that
time for nearly six weeks we fought or skirmished every day.

 

A SINGULAR MEETING WITH WILD BILL
I was still acting as a scout, when one day I rode ahead of the command, some considerable
distance, to pick up all possible information concerning Price's movements. I was dressed in gray
clothes, or Missouri jeans, and on riding up to a farm house and entering I saw a man, also dressed
in gray costume, sitting at a table eating bread and milk. He looked up as I entered, and startled me
by saying:&emdash;

"You little rascal, what are you doing in those 'secesh' clothes?" Judge of my surprise when I
recognised in the stranger my old friend and partner, Wild Bill, disguised as a Confederate officer.

"I ask you the same question, sir," said I, without the least hesitation.

"Hush! sit down and have some bread and milk, and we'll talk it all over afterwards," said he.

I accepted the invitation and partook of the refreshments. Wild Bill paid the woman of the house,
and we went out to the gate where my horse was standing.

"Billy, my boy," said he "I am mighty glad to see you. tIhaven't seen or heard of you since we got
busted on that St. Louis horse race."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I am a scout under General McNiel. For the last few days I have been with General Marmaduke's
division of Price's army, in disguise as a Southern officer from Texas, as you see me now," said he.

"That's exactly the kind of business that I am out on to-day," said I; "and I want to get some
information concerning Price's movements."

"I'll give you all that I have;" and he then went on and told me all that he knew regarding Price's
intentions and the number and condition of his men. He then asked about my mother, and when he
learned that she was dead he was greatly surprised and grieved; he thought a great deal of her, for
she had treated him almost as one of her own children. He finally took out a package, which he had
concealed about his person, and handing it to me he said:&emdash; 

"Here are some letters which I want you to give to General McNeil."

"All right," said I as I took them, "but where will I meet you again?"

"Never mind that," he replied; "I am getting so much valuable information that I propose to stay a
little while longer in this disguise." Thereupon we shook hands and parted.

It is not necessary to say much concerning Price's raid in general, as that event is a matter of
recorded history. I am only relating the incidents in which I was personally interested either as one of
the actors or as an observer.

 

A PLEASANT LITTLE EPISODE
Another interesting, and I may say exciting, episode happened to me a day or two after my
unexpected meeting with Wild Bill. I was riding with the advance guard of our army, and wishing a
drink of water, I stopped at a farm house. There were no men about the premises, and no one
excepting a very fine and intellectual looking lady and her two daughters. They seemed to be almost
frightened to death at seeing me &emdash;a "yank" &emdash;appear before them. I quieted their
fears somewhat and the mother then asked me how far back the army was. When I told her it would
be along shortly, she expressed her fears that they would take everything on the premises. They set
me out a lunch and treated me very kindly, so that I really began to sympathize with them; for I knew
that the soldiers would ransack their house and confiscate everything they could lay their hands on.
At last I resolved to do what I could to protect them.

After the generals and the staff officers had passed by, I took it upon myself to be a sentry over the
house. When the command came along some of the men rushed up with the intention of entering the
place and carrying off all the desirable plunder possible, and then tearing and breaking everything to
pieces, as they usually did along the line of march.

"Halt!" I shouted; "I have been placed here by the commanding officer as a guard over this house,
and no man must enter it." This stopped the first squad; and seeing that my plan was a success, I
remained at my post during the passage of the entire command and kept out all intruders.

It seemed as if the ladies could not thank me sufficiently for the protection I had afforded them.
They were perfectly aware of the fact that I had acted without orders and entirely on my own
responsibility, and therefore they felt the more grateful. They urgently invited me to remain a little
while longer and partake of an excellent dinner which they said they were preparing for me. I was
pretty hungry about that time, as our rations had been rather slim of late, and a good dinner was a
temptation I could not withstand, especially as it was served up by such elegant ladies. While I was
eating the meal I was most agreeably entertained by the young ladies, and before I finished it the last
of the rear-guard was at least two miles beyond the house.

Suddenly three men entered the room, and I looked up and saw three double-barreled shot-guns
leveled straight at me. Before I could speak, however, the mother and her daughters sprang between
the men and me.

"Father! Boys! Lower your guns! You must not shoot this man," and similar exclamations were
uttered by all three. The guns were lowered and then the men, who were the father and brothers of
the young ladies, were informed of what I had done for them. It appeared that they had been
concealed in the woods near by while the army was passing, and on coming into the house and
finding a Yankee there, they determined to shoot him. Upon learning the facts, the old man extended
his hand to me, saying:&emdash;

"I would not harm a hair of your head for the world; but it is best that you stay here no longer, as
your command is some distance in advance now, and you might be cut off by bushwhackers before
reaching it."

Bidding them all good-bye, and with many thanks from the mother and daughters, I mounted my
horse and soon overtook the column, happy in the thought that I had done a good deed, and with no
regrets that I had saved from pillage and destruction the home and property of a Confederate and his
family.

Our command kept crowding against Price and his army until they were pushed into the vicinity of
Kansas City, where their further advance was checked by United States troops from Kansas; and
then was begun their memorable and extraordinary retreat back into Kansas. 

 

A WONDERFUL ESCAPE
While both armies were drawn up in skirmish line near Fort Scott Kansas, two men on horseback
were seen rapidly leaving the Confederate lines, and suddenly they made a dash towards us. Instantly
quick volleys were discharged from the Confederates, who also began a pursuit, and some five
hundred shots were fired at the flying men. It was evident that they were trying to reach our lines, but
when within about a quarter of a mile of us, one of them fell from his horse to rise no more. He had
been fatally shot. His companion galloped on unhurt, and seven companies of our regiment charged
out and met him, and checked his pursuers. The fugitive was dressed in Confederate uniform, and as
he rode into our lines I recognized him as Wild Bill, the Union scout. He immediately sought
Generals Pleasanton and McNiel, with whom he held a consultation. He told them that although Price
made a bold showing on the front, by bringing all his men into view, yet he was really a great deal
weaker than the appearance of his lines would indicate; and that he was then trying to cross a
difficult stream four miles from Fort Scott.

It was late in the afternoon, but General Pleasanton immediately ordered an advance, and we charged
in full force upon the rear of Price's army, and drove it before us for two hours.

If Wild Bill could have made his successful dash into our lines earlier in the day, the attack would
have been made sooner, and greater results might have been expected. The Confederates had
suspected him of being a spy for two or three days, and had watched him too closely to allow an
opportunity to get away from them sooner. His unfortunate companion who had been shot, was a
scout from Springfield, Missouri, whose name I cannot now remember.

From this time on, Wild Bill and myself continued to scout together until Price's army was driven
south of the Arkansas river and the pursuit abandoned.


CHAPTER VII.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE
Camp-life and fighting guerrillas is not a very desirable occupation, and even scouting in the service
is not so agreeable as making love to pretty girls; appreciating this fact, after nearly four years of
hardships along the advance, I was very much pleased with the change when in the winter of 1864-65
I was permitted to spend a time at military headquarters in St. Louis on detached service. It was
while I was in this pleasing situation that I became acquainted with a young lady named Louisa
Frederici, whom I greatly admired and in whose charming society I spent many a pleasant hour.

The war closing in 1865, I was discharged, and after a brief visit at Leavenworth I returned to St.
Louis, having made up my mind to capture the heart of Miss Frederici, whom I now adored above
any other young lady that I had ever seen. Her lovely face, her gentle disposition and her graceful
manners, won my admiration and love; and I was not slow in declaring my sentiments to her. The
result was that I obtained her consent to marry me in the near future, and when I bade her good-bye I
considered myself one of the happiest of men. 

Meantime I drove a string of horses from Leavenworth to Fort Kearney, where I met my old friend
Bill Trotter, who was then division stage agent. He employed me at once to drive stage between
Kearney and Plum Creek, the road running near the spot where I had my first Indian fight with the
McCarthy brothers, and where I killed my first Indian, nearly nine years before. I drove stage over
this route until February, 1866, and while bounding over the cold, dreary road day after day, my
thoughts turned continually towards my promised bride, until I at last determined to abandon staging
forever, and marry and settle down. Immediately after coming to this conclusion, I went to St. Louis,
where I was most cordially received by my sweetheart; it was arranged between us that our wedding
should take place on the 6th day of March following.

At last the day arrived and the wedding ceremony was performed at the residence of the bride's
parents, in the presence of a large number of invited friends, whose hearty congratulations we
received. I was certainly to be congratulated, for I had become possessed of a lovely and noble
woman, and as I gazed upon her as she stood beside me arrayed in her wedding costume, I indeed
felt proud of her; and from that time to this I have alway thought that I made a most fortunate choice
for a life partner.

 

BRIDAL TRIP ON A MISSOURI STEAMER
An hour after the ceremony we &emdash;my bride and myself &emdash;were on board of a
Missouri river steamboat, bound for our new home in Kansas. My wife's parents had accompanied
us to the boat, and had bidden us a fond farewell and a God-speed on our journey. 

During the trip up the river several very amusing, yet awkward, incidents occurred, some of which I
cannot resist relating. There happened to be on board the boat an excursion party from Lexington,
Missouri, and those comprising it seemed to shun me, for some reason which at the time I could not
account for. They would point at me, and quietly talk among themselves, and eye me very closely.
Their actions seemed very strange to me. After the boat had proceeded some little distance, I made
the acquaintance of several families from Indiana, who were en route to Kansas. A gentleman, who
seemed to be the leader of these colonists said to me, "The people of this excursion party don't
seem to have any great love for you."

"What does it mean?" I asked; "what are they saying? It's all a mystery to me."

"They say that you are one of the Kansas jay-hawkers, and one of Jennison's house burners," replied
the gentleman.

"I am from Kansas &emdash;that's true; and was a soldier and a scout in the Union army," said I;
"and I was in Kansas during the border ruffian war of 1856. Perhaps these people know who I am,
and that explains their hard looks." I had a lengthy conversation with this gentleman &emdash;for
such he seemed to be &emdash;and entertained him with several chapters of the history of the early
Kansas troubles, and told him the experiences of my own family.

In the evening the Lexington folks got up a dance, but neither the Indiana people, my wife or myself
were invited to join them. My new-found friend thereupon came to me and said: "Mr. Cody, let us
have a dance of our own."

"Very well," was my reply.

"We have some musicians along with us, so we can have plenty of music," remarked the gentleman.

"Good enough!" said I, "and I will hire the negro barber to play the violin for us. He is a good
fiddler, as I heard him playing only a little while ago." The result was that we soon organized a good
string band and had a splendid dance keeping it up as long as the Lexington party did theirs.

 

A CLOSE CALL.
The second day out from St. Louis the boat stopped to wood up at a wild looking landing.
Suddenly twenty horsemen were seen galloping up through the timber, and as they came nearer the
boat they fired on the negro deck-hands, against whom they seemed to have a special grudge, and
who were engaged in throwing wood on board. The negroes all quickly jumped on the boat and
pulled in the gang-plank, and the captain had only just time to get the steamer out into the stream
before the bushwhackers &emdash;for such they proved to be &emdash;appeared on the bank.

"Where is the black Abolition jay-hawker?" shouted the leader. "Show him to us, and we'll shoot
him," yelled another. But as the boat had got well out in the river by this time they could not board
us, and the captain ordering a full head of steam, pulled out and left them.

I afterwards ascertained that some of the Missourians, who were with the excursion party, were
bushwhackers themselves, and had telegraphed to their friends from some previous landing that I
was on board, telling them to come to the landing which we had just left and take me off. Had the
villains captured me they would have undoubtedly put an end to my career, and the public would
never have had the pleasure of being bored by this autobiography.

I noticed that my wife felt grieved over the manner in which these people had treated me. Just
married, she was going into a new country, and seeing how her husband was regarded, how he had
been shunned, and how his life had been threatened, I was afraid she might come to the conclusion
too soon that she had wedded a "hard customer." So when the boat landed at Kansas City I
telegraphed to some of my friends in Leavenworth that I would arrive there in the evening. My object
was to have my acquaintances give me a reception, so that my wife could see that I really did have
some friends and was not so bad a man as the bushwhackers tried to make out.

Just as I expected, when the boat reached Leavenworth I found a general round-up of friends at the
landing to receive us. There were about sixty gentlemen and ladies. They had a band of music with
them and we were given a fine serenade. Taking carriages we all drove to South Leavenworth to the
home of my sister Eliza, who had married George Myers, and there we were given a very handsome
reception. All this cheered up my wife, who concluded that I was not a desperado after all.

 

KEEPING A HOTEL
Having promised my wife that I would abandon the plains, I rented a hotel in Salt Creek Valley
&emdash;the same house, by the way, which my mother had formerly kept, but which was then
owned by Dr. J. J. Crook, late surgeon of the 7th Kansas. This hotel I called the Golden Rule
House, and I kept it until the next September. People generally said I made a good landlord and
knew how to run a hotel &emdash;a business qualification which, it is said, is possessed by
comparatively few men. But it proved too tame employment for me, and again I sighed for the
freedom of the plains. Believing that I could make more money out West on the frontier than I could
at Salt Creek Valley, I sold out the Golden Rule House and started alone for Saline, Kansas, which
was then the end of the track of the Kansas Pacific railway, which was at that time being built across
the plains. On my way I stopped at Junction City, where I again met my old friend Wild Bill, who
was scouting for the government, his headquarters being at Fort Ellsworth, afterwards called Fort
Harker. He told me that they needed more scouts at this post, and I accordingly accompanied him to
that fort, where I had no difficulty in obtaining employment.

During the winter of 1866-67, I scouted between Fort Ellsworth and Fort Fletcher. In the spring of
1867 I was at Fort Fletcher, when General Custer came out to go on an Indian expedition with
General Hancock. I remained at this post until it was drowned out by the heavy floods of Big creek,
on which it was located; the water rose about the fortifications and rendered the place unfit for
occupancy; so the government abandoned the fort and moved the troops and supplies to a new post
&emdash;which had been named Fort Hays &emdash;located further west, on the south fork of Big
creek. It was while scouting in the vicinity of Fort Hays that I had my first ride with the dashing and
gallant Custer, who had come up to the post from Fort Ellsworth with an escort of only ten men. He
wanted a guide to pilot him to Fort Larned, a distance of sixty-five miles across the country.

 

ACTING AS GUIDE TO CUSTER
I was ordered by the commanding officer to guide General Custer to his desired destination, and I
soon received word from the General that he would start out in the morning with the intention of
making the trip in one day. Early in the morning, after a good night's rest, I was on hand, mounted on
my large mouse-colored mule &emdash;an animal of great endurance &emdash;and ready for the
journey; when the General saw me he said:&emdash;

"Cody, I want to travel fast and go through as quickly as possible, and I don't think that mule of
yours is fast enough to suit me."

"General, never mind the mule," said I, "he'll get there as soon as your horses. That mule is a good
one," as I knew that the animal was better than most horses.

"Very well; go ahead, then," said he, though he looked as if he thought I would delay the party on
the road.

For the first fifteen miles, until we came to the Smoky Hill river, which we were to cross, I could
hardly keep the mule in advance of the General, who rode a frisky, impatient and ambitious
thoroughbred steed; in fact, the whole party was finely mounted. The General repeatedly told me that
the mule was "no good" and that I ought to have had a good horse. But after crossing the river, and
striking the sand-hills, I began letting my mule out a littler and putting the "persuaders" to him. He
was soon out-traveling the horses, and by the time we had made about half the distance to Fort
Larned, I occasionally had to wait for the General or some of his party, as their horses were
beginning to show signs of fatigue.

"General, how about this mule, anyhow?" I asked at last.

"Cody, you have a better vehicle than I thought you had," was his reply.

From that time on to Fort Larned I had no trouble in keeping ahead of the party. We rode into the
fort at four o'clock in the afternoon with about half the escort only, the rest having lagged far behind.

 

A FIGHT WITH THE INDIANS
General Custer thanked me for having brought him straight across the country without any trail, and
said that if I were not engaged as post-scout at Fort Hays he would like to have me accompany him
as one of his scouts during the summer; and he added that whenever I was out of employment, if I
would come to him he would find something for me to do. This was the beginning of my
acquaintance with General Custer, whom I always admired as a man and as an officer.

A few days after my return to Fort Hays, the Indians made a raid on the Kansas Pacific railroad,
killing five or six men and running off about one hundred horses and mules. The news was brought
to the commanding officer, who immediately ordered Major Arms, of the Tenth Cavalry
&emdash;which, by the way, was a negro regiment &emdash;with his company and one mountain
howitzer, to go in pursuit of the red-skins, and I was sent along with the expedition as scout and
guide. On the second day out we suddenly discovered, on the opposite side of the Saline river,
about a mile distant, a large body of Indians, who were charging down upon us. Major Arms,
placing the cannon on a little knoll, limbered it up and left twenty then to guard it; and then, with the
rest of the command, he crossed the river to meet the Indians.

Just as he had got the men over the stream we heard a terrific yelling and shouting in our rear, and
looking back to the knoll where the cannon had been stationed, we saw the negroes, who had been
left there to guard the gun, flying toward us, being pursued by about one hundred Indians, while
another large party of the latter were dancing around the captured cannon, as if they had secured a
trophy that was dangerous for them to handle. Major Arms soon turned his attention towards the
Indians and with a sharp charge drove them from the gun and recaptured it, but not until the carriage
was broken and the gun rendered useless. The fight became hotter when the Indians were reenforced
by another large war party, that now came back at us in fine style. In this charge five of our men
were killed and many more wounded, among the latter being Major Arms himself. The colored
troops became fear-stricken and it was almost impossible to prevent a panic. In this sorry condition,
and the danger of our position becoming a perilous one if the unequal contest was continued, Major
Arms ordered a retreat, which was obeyed with singular spirit and alacrity. The Indians pursued us
for a while, but darkness soon came on and under its protecting mantle we managed to escape, and
to reach Fort Hays at daylight the following morning in an exhausted condition.

During our absence on this expedition the cholera broke out at the post, from which terrible disease
five or six soldiers died daily, but the colored troops had so much less dread of cholera than they
had of Indians that there was no dearth of nurses for the sick, as every negro at the post became a
volunteer minister to the cholera patients.


CHAPTER VIII
MILLIONAIRE IN PROSPECTIVE
Soon after returning to Fort Hays I was sent with dispatches to Fort Harker. After delivering the
messages I visited the town of Ellsworth, about three miles west of Fort Harker, and there I met a
man named William Rose, a contractor on the Kansas Pacifie railroad, who had a contract for
grading near Fort Hays. His stock had been stolen by the Indians, and his visit toEllsworth was to
buy more. 

During the course of our conversation, Mr. Rose incidentally remarked that he had some idea of
laying out a town on the west side of Big creek, about one mile from the fort, where the railroad was
to cross. He asked my opinion of the contemplated enterprise, and I told him that I thought it was "a
big thing." He then proposed taking me as a partner in the scheme, and suggested that after we got
the town laid out and thrown open to the public we should establish a store and saloon there.

Thinking it would be a grand thing to be half-owner of a town, I at once accepted his proposition.
We bought a stock of such articles as are usually found in a frontier store, and transported them to
the place on Big creek where we were to found our town. We hired a railroad engineer to survey the
site and stake it off into lots; and we gave the new town the ancient and historical name of Rome. As
a "starter," we donated lots to any one who would build on them, but reserved the corner lots and
others which were best located for ourselves. These reserved lots we valued at fifty dollars each.

 

A HOWL FROM ROME
Our modern Rome, like all mushroom towns along the line of a new railroad, sprang up as if by
magic, and in less than one month we had two hundred frame and log houses, three or four stores,
several saloons, and one good hotel. Rome was looming up, and Rose and I already considered
ourselves millionaires and thought we "had the world by the tail." But one day a fine looking
gentleman, calling himself Dr. W. E. Webb, appeared in town and dropping into our store
introduced himself in a very pleasant way:&emdash;

"Gentlemen you've got a very flourishing little town here. Wouldn't you like to have a partner in your
enterprise?"

"No, thank you," said I, "we have too good a thing here to whack up with anybody."

My partner agreed with me, but the conversation was continued, and at last the stranger
said:&emdash;

"Gentlemen, I am the agent or prospector of the Kansas Pacific railroad, and my business is to
locate towns for the eompany along the line."

"We think we have the only sutable town-site in this immediate locality," said Mr. Rose, "and as a
town is already started, we have saved the company considerable expense."

"You know as well as I do," said Dr. Webb, "that the company expects to make money by selling
lands and town lots; and as you are not disposed to give the company a show, or share with me, I
shall probably have to start another town near you. Competition is the life of trade, you know."

"Start your town, if you want to. We've got the 'bulge' on you, and can hold it," said I, somewhat
provoked at his threat.

But we acted too independently and too indiscreetly for our own good. Dr. Webb, the very next day
after his interview with us, began hauling material to a spot about one mile east of us, where he
staked out a new town, which he called Hays City. He took great pains to circulate in our town the
story that the railroad company would locate their round-houses and machine shops at Hays City,
and that it was to be the town and a splendid business center. A ruinous stampede from our place
was the result. People who had built in Rome came to the conclusion that they had settled in the
wrong place; they began pulling down their buildings and moving them over to Hays City, and in less
than three days our once flourishing city had dwindled down to the little store which Rose and I had
built.

It was on a bright summer morning that we sat on a pine box in front of our crib, moodily viewing
the demolition of the last building. Three days before we had considered ourselves millionaires; on
that morning we looked around and saw that we were reduced to the ragged edge of poverty. Our
sanguine expectations of realizing immense fortunes were dashed to the ground and we felt pretty
blue. The new town of Hays had swallowed Rome entirely. Mr. Rose facetiously remarked that he
felt like "the last rose of summer," with all his lovely companions faded and gone, and he left
blooming alone. I told him I was still there, staunch and true, but he replied that that didn't help the
matter much. Thus ends the brief history of the "Rise, Decline and Fall" of Modern Rome.

It having become evident to me that there was very little hope of Rome ever regaining its former
splendor and prosperity, I sent my wife and daughter Arta &emdash;who had been born at
Leavenworth in the latter part of December, 1866 &emdash;to St. Louis on a visit. They had been
living with me for some little time in the rear part of our "store."

At this time Mr. Rose and myself had a contract under Schumacher, Miller & Co., constructors of
the Kansas Pacific, for grading five miles of track westward from Big creek, and running through the
site of Rome. Notwithstanding we had been deserted, we had some small hope that they would not
be able to get water at the new town, and that the people would all soon move back to Rome, as we
really had the best location. We determined, therefore to go on with our grading contract, and wait
for something better to turn up. It was indeed hard for us, who had been millionaires, to come down
to the level of common railroad contractors &emdash;but we had to do it all the same. 

We visited the new town of Hays almost daily, to see how it was progressing, and in a short time we
became much better acquainted with Dr. Webb, who had reduced us from our late independent to
our present dependent position. We found him a perfect gentlemen &emdash;a whole-souled,
genial-hearted fellow, whom everybody liked and respected. Nearly every day "Doc" and I would
take a ride over the prairie together and hunt buffalo.

 

A LITTLE SPORT WITH THE HOSTILES
On one occasion, having ventured about ten miles from the town, we spied a band of Indians not
over two miles distant, who were endeavoring to get between us and the town, and thus cut us off. I
was mounted on my celebrated horse Brigham, the fleetest steed I ever owned. On several
subsequent occasions he saved my life, and he was the horse that I rode when I killed sixty-nine
buffaloes in one day. Dr. Webb was riding a beautiful thoroughbred bay, which he had brought with
him from the East. Having such splendid horses, we laughed at the idea of a band of Indians
overtaking us on a square run, no matter how well they might be mounted, but not caring to be cut
off by them, we ran our steeds about three miles towards home, thus getting between the braves and
the town. The Indians were then about three-quarters of a mile distant, and we stopped and waved
our hats at them, and fired some shots at long range. There were thirteen in the party, and as they
were getting pretty close to us, we struck out for Hays. They came on in pursuit and sent several
scattering shots after us, but we easily left them behind. They finally turned and rode off towards the
Saline river.

The Doctor thought this glorious sport, and panted to organize a party to go in pursuit of them, but I
induced him to give up this idea, although he did so rather reluctantly. The Doctor soon became
quite an expert hunter, and before he had remained on the prairie a year there were but few men in the
country who could kill more buffaloes on a hunt than he.

Being aware that Rose and myself felt rather down-hearted over our deserted village, the Doctor one
day said that, as he had made the proprietors of Rome "howl," he would give us two lots each in
Hays, and did so. We finally came to the conclusion that our old town was dead beyond redemption
or revival, and we thereupon devoted our undivided attention to our railroad contract. One day we
were pushed for horses to work on our scrapers &emdash;so I hitched up Brigham, to see how he
would work. He was not much used to that kind of labor, and I was about giving up the idea of
making a workhorse of him, when one of the men called to me that there were some buffaloes
coming over the hill. As there had been no buffaloes seen anywhere in the vicinity of the camp for
several days, we had become rather short of meat. I immediately told one of our men to hitch his
horses to a wagon and follow me, as I was going out after the herd, and we would bring back some
fresh meat for supper. I had no saddle, as mine had been left at the camp a mile distant, so taking the
harness from Brigham, I mounted him bareback and started out after the game, being armed with my
celebrated buffalo-killer, "Lucretia Borgia," &emdash;a newly-improved breech-loading needle gun,
which I had obtained from the government.

 

BRIGHAM TO THE FRONT
While I was riding toward the buffaloes I observed five horsemen coming out from the fort, who had
evidently seen the buffaloes from the post, and were going out for a chase. They proved to be some
newly-arrived officers in that part of the country, and when they came up closer, I could see by the
shoulder straps that the senior officer was a captain, while the others were lieutenants.

"Hello! my friend," sang out the Captain, "I see you are after the same game we are."

"Yes, sir; I saw those buffaloes coming over the hill, and as we were about out of fresh meat I
thought I would go and get some," said I.

They scanned my cheap-looking outfit pretty closely, and as my horse was not very prepossessing
in appearance, having on only a blind bridle, and otherwise looking like a work-horse, they evidently
considered me a green hand at hunting.

"Do you expect to catch those buffaloes on that Gothic steed?" laughingly asked the captain.

"I hope so, by pushing on the reins hard enough," was my reply. 

"You'll never catch them in the world, my fine fellow," said the captain. "It requires a fast horse to
overtake the animals on these prairies."

"Does it?" asked I, as if I didn't know it.

"Yes; but come along with us as we are going to kill them more for pleasure than anything else. All
we want are the tongues and a piece of tender-loin, and you may have all that is left," said the
generous man.

"I am much obliged to you, Captain, and will follow you," I replied.

There were eleven buffaloes in the herd and they were not more than a mile from us. The officers
dashed ahead as if they had a sure thing on killing them all before I could come up with them; but I
had noticed that the herd was making towards the creek for water, and as I knew buffalo nature, I
was perfectly aware that it would be difficult to turn them from their direct course. Thereupon, I
started towards the creek to head them off, while the officers came up in the rear and gave chase.

 

A PRETTY BUFFALO DRIVE
The buffaloes came rushing past me not a hundred yards distant, with the officers about three
hundred yards in the rear. Now, thought I, is the time to "get my work in," as they say; and I pulled
the blind-bridle from my horse, who knew as well as I did that we were out for buffaloes
&emdash;as he was a trained hunter. The moment the bridle was off, he started at the top of his
speed, running in ahead of the officers, and with a few jumps he brought me alongside of the rear
buffalo. Raising old "Lucretia Borgia" to my shoulder, I fired, and killed the animal at the first shot.
My horse then carried me alongside the next one, not ten feet away, and I dropped him at the next
fire.

As soon as one buffalo would fall, Brigham would take me so close to the next that I could almost
touch it with my gun. In this manner I killed the eleven buffaloes with twelve shots: and, as the last
animal dropped, my horse stopped. I jumped to the ground, knowing that he would not leave me
&emdash;it must be remembered that I had been riding him without bridle, reins or saddle
&emdash;and turning around as the party of astonished officers rode up, I said to them:&emdash;

"Now, gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues and tender-loins you wish from these
buffaloes."

Captain Graham, for such I soon learned was his name, replied: "Well, I never saw the like before.
Who under the sun are you, anyhow?"

"My name is Cody," said I.

One of the lieutenants, Thompson by name, who had met me at Fort Harker, then recognized me,
and said: "Why, that is Bill Cody, our old scout." He then introduced me to the other officers, who
were Captain Graham of the Tenth cavalry, and Lieutenants Reed, Emmick and Ezekiel.

Captam Graham, who was considerable of a horseman, greatly admired Brigham, and said: "That
horse of yours has running points."

"Yes, sir; he has not only got the points, he is a runner and knows how to use the points," said I.

"So I noticed," said the captain.

They all finally dismounted, and we countinued chatting for some little time upon the different
subjects of horses, buffaloes, Indians and hunting. They felt a little sore at not getting a single shot at
the buffaloes, but the way I had killed them had, they said, amply repaid them for their
disappointment. They had read of such feats in books, but this was the first time they had ever seen
anything of the kind with their own eyes. It was the first time, also, that they had ever witnessed or
heard of a white man running buffaloes on horseback without a saddle or a bridle.

I told them that Brigham knew nearly as much about the business as I did and if I had twenty bridles
they would have been of no use to me, as he understood everything, and all that he expected of me
was to do the shooting. It is a fact, that Brigham would stop if a buffalo did not fall at the first fire,
so as to give me a second chance, but if I did not kill the buffalo then, he would go on, as if to say,
"You are no good, and I will not fool away my time by giving you more than two shots." Brigham
was the best horse I ever owned or saw for buffalo chasing.

Our conversation was interrupted in a little while by the arrival of the wagon which I had ordered out;
I loaded the hindquarters of the youngest buffaloes on it, and then cut out the tongues and
tender-loins, and presented them to the officers, after which I rode towards the fort with them, while
the wagon returned to camp.

Captain Graham told me that he expected to be stationed at Fort Hays during the summer, and
would probably be sent out on a scouting expedition, and in case he was he would like to have me
accompany him as scout and guide. I replied that notwithstanding I was very busy with my railroad
contract I would go with him if he was ordered out. I then left the officers and returned to our camp.

 

IN PURSUIT OF INDIANS
That very night the Indians unexpectedly made a raid on the horses, and ran off five or six of our
very best work-teams, leaving us in a very crippled condition. At daylight I jumped on old Brigham
and rode to Fort Hays, where I reported the affair to the commanding officer; Captain Graham and
Lieutenant Emmick were at once ordered out with their company of one hundred colored troops, to
pursue the Indians and recover our stock if possible. In an hour we were under way. The darkies had
never been in an Indian fight and were anxious to catch the band we were after and "Sweep de red
debels from off de face of de yearth." Captain Graham was a brave, dashing officer, eager to make a
record for himself, and it was with difficulty that I could trail fast enough to keep out of the way of
the impatient soldiers. Every few moments Captain Graham would ride up to see if the trail was
freshening and how soon we should be likely to overtake the thieves.

At last we reached the Saline river, where we found the Indians had only stopped to feed and water
the animals, and had then pushed on towards the Solomon. After crossing the Saline they made no
effort to conceal their trail, thinking they would not be pursued beyond that point
&emdash;consequenntly we were able to make excellent time. We reached the Solomon before
sunset, and came to a halt; we surmised that if the Indians were camped on this river, that they had
no suspicion of our being in the neighborhood. I advised Captain Graham to remain with the
company where it was, while I went ahead on a scout to find the Indians, if they were in the vicinity.

After riding some distance down the ravine that led to the river, I left my horse at the foot of a hill;
then, creeping to the top, I looked cautiously over the summit upon the Solomon below. I at once
discovered in plain view, not a mile away, a herd of horses grazing, our lost ones among them; very
shortly I made out the Indian camp, noted its lay, and how we could best approach it. Reporting to
Captain Graham, whose eyes fairly danced with delight at the prospect of surprising and whipping
the red-skins, we concluded to wait until the moon rose, then get into the timber so as to approach
the Indians as closely as possible without being discovered, and finally to make a sudden dash into
their camp and clean them out. We had everything "cut and dried," as we thought, but alas! just as
we were nearing the point where we were to take the open ground and make our charge, one of the
colored gentlemen became so excited that he fired off his gun. We immediately commenced the
charge, but the firing of the gun and the noise of our rush through the crackling timber alarmed the
Indians, who at once sprang to their horses and were away from us before we reached their late
camp. Captain Graham called out "Follow me, boys!" which we did for a while, but in the darkness
the Indians made good their escape. The bugle then gave the recall, but some of the darkies did not
get back until morning, having, in their fright, allowedtheir horses to run away with them withersoever
it suited the animals' pleasure to go.

We followed the trail the next day for awhile, but as it became evident that it would be a long chase
to overtake the enemy, and as we had rations only for the day, we commenced the return. Captain
Graham was bitterly disappointed in not being able to get the fight when it seemed so near at one
time. He roundly cursed the "nigger" who fired the gun, and as a punishment for his carelessness, he
was compelled to walk all the way back to Fort Hays.

 

HOW I RECEIVED THE TITLE OF BUFFALO BILL
The construction of the Kansas Pacific railroad was pushed forward with great rapidity, and when
track-laying began it was only a very short time before the road was ready for construction trains as
far west as the heart of the buffalo country. Twelve hundred men were employed in the work, and as
the Indians were very troublesome it became difficult to obtain sufficient fresh meat to feed such an
army of workmen. This embarrassment was at length overcome by the construction company
engaging hunters to kill buffaloes, the flesh of which is equal to the best corn-fed beef.

Having heard of my experience and success as a buffalo hunter, Messrs. Goddard Brothers, who
had the contract for boarding the employees of the road, met me in Hays city one day and made me
a good offer to become their hunter, and I at once entered into a contract with them. They said that
they would require about twelve buffaloes per day; that would be twenty-four hams, as we took only
the hind-quarters and hump of each buffalo. As this was to be dangerous work, on account of the
Indians, who were riding all over that section of the country, and as I would be obliged to go from
five to ten miles from the road each day to hunt the buffaloes, accompanied by only one man with a
light wagon for the transportation of the meat, I of course demanded a large salary. They could
afford to remunerate me well, because the meat would not cost them anything. They agreed to give
me five hundred dollars per month, provided I furnished them all the fresh meat required.

Leaving my partner, Rose, to complete our grading contract, I immediately began my career as a
buffalo hunter for the Kansas Pacific railroad, and it was not long before I acquired considerable
notoriety. It was at this time that the very appropriate name of "Buffalo Bill" was conferred upon me
by the road hands. It has stuck to me ever since, and I have never been ashamed of it.

During my engagement as hunter for the company &emdash;a period of less than eighteen months
&emdash;I killed 4,280 buffaloes; and I had many exciting adventures with the Indians, as well as
hair breadth escapes, some of which are well worth relating.

 

A RACE FOR MY SCALP
One day in the spring of 1868 I mounted Brigham and started for Smoky Hill river. After galloping
about twenty miles I reached the top of a small hill overlooking the valley of that beautiful stream. As
I was gazing on the landscape, I suddenly saw a band of about thirty Indians nearly half a mile
distant; I knew by the way they jumped on their horses that they had seen me as soon as I came into
sight.

The only chance I had for my life was to make a run for it, and I immediately wheeled and started
back towards the railroad. Brigham seemed to understand what was up, and he struck out as if he
comprehended that it was to be a run for life. He crossed a ravine in a few jumps, and on reaching a
ridge beyond I drew rein, looked back and saw the Indians coming for me at full speed and evidently
well mounted. I would have had little or no fear of being overtaken if Brigham had been fresh; but as
he was not, I felt uncertain as to how he would stand a long chase.

My pursuers seemed to be gaining on me a little, and I let Brigham shoot ahead again; when we had
run about three miles further, some eight or nine of the Indians were not over two hundred yards
behind, and five or six of these seemed to be shortening the gap at every jump. Brigham now exerted
himself more than ever, and for the next three or four miles he got "right down to business," and did
some of the prettiest running I ever saw. But the Indians were about as well mounted as I was, and
one of their horses in particular &emdash;a spotted animal &emdash;was gaining on me all the time.
Nearly all the other horses were strung out behind for a distance of two miles, but still chasing after
me.

 

A GREAT SHOT
The Indian who was riding the spotted horse was armed with a rifle and would occasionally send a
bullet whistling along sometimes striking the ground ahead of me. I saw that this fellow must be
checked, or a stray bullet from his gun might hit me or my horse; so, suddenly stopping Brigham
and quickly wheeling him around, I raised old "Lucretia" to my shoulder, took deliberate aim at the
Indian and his horse, hoping to hit one or the other, and fired. He was not over eighty yards away
from me at this time, and at the crack of my rifle down went his horse. Not waiting to see if he
recovered, I turned Brigham and in a moment we were again fairly flying towards our destination; we
had urgent business about that time, and were in a hurry to get there.

Ne other Indians had gained on us while I was engaged shooting at their leader, and they sent several
shots whizzing past me, but fortunately none of them hit the intended mark. To return their
compliment I occasionally wheeled myself in the saddle and fired back at them, and one of my shots
broke the leg of one of their horses, which left its rider hors(e) de combat, as the French would say.

Only seven or eight Indians now remained in dangerous proximity to me, and as their horses were
beginning to lag somewhat, I checked my faithful old steed a little, to allow him an opportunity to
draw an extra breath or two. I had determined, if it should come to the worst, to drop into a buffalo
wallow, where I could stand the Indians off for a while; but I was not compelled to do this, as
Brigham carried me through most nobly.

 

SAUCE FOR THE GANDER.
The chase was kept up until we came within three miles of the end of the railroad track, where two
companies of soldiers were stationed for the purpose of protecting the workmen from the Indians.
One of the outposts saw the Indians chasing me across the prairie and gave the alarm. In a few
minutes I saw, greatly to my delight, men coming on foot, and cavalrymen too came galloping to my
rescue as soon as they could mount their horses When the Indians observed this, they turned and
ran in the direction from which they had come. In a very few minutes I was met by some of the
infantrymen and trackmen, and jumping to the ground and pulling the blanket and saddle off of
Brigham, I told them what he had done for me; they at once took him in charge, led him around, and
rubbed him down so vigorously that I thought they would rub him to death.

Captain Nolan, of the Tenth Cavalry, now came up with forty of his men, and upon learning what
had happened he determined to pursue the Indians. He kindly offered me one of the cavalry horses,
and after putting my own saddle and bridle on the animal, we started out after the flying Indians, who
only a few minutes before had been making it so uncomfortably lively for me. Our horses were all
fresh and of excellent stock, and we soon began shortening the distance between ourselves and the
redskins. Before they had gone five miles we overtook and killed eight of their number. The others
succeeded in making their escape. On coming up to the place where I had killed the first horse
&emdash;the spotted one &emdash;on my "home run," I found that my bullet had struck him in the
forehead and killed him instantly He was a noble animal, and ought to have been engaged in better
business.

When we got back to camp I found old Brigham grazing quietly and contentedly on the grass. He
looked up at me as if to ask if we had got away with any of those fellows who had chased us. I
believe he read the answer in my eyes.

 

RUN TO COVER BY INDIANS
Another very exciting hunting adventure of mine which deserves a place in these reminiscences
occurred near Saline river. My companion at the time was a man called Scotty, a butcher, who
generally accompanied me on these hunting expeditions to cut up the buffaloes and load the meat
into a light wagon which he brought to carry it in. He was a brave little fellow and a most excellent
shot. I had killed some fifteen buffaloess and we had started for home with a wagon-load of meat.
When within about eight miles of our destination we suddenly ran into a party of at least thirty
Indians who came riding out of the head of a ravine.

On this occasion I was mounted on a most excellent horse beIonging to the railroad company and
could easily have made my escape; but of course I could not leave Scotty, who was driving a pair of
mules hitched to the wagon. To think was to act in those days; and as Scott and I had often talked
over a plan of defense in case we were ever surprised by Indians, we instantly proceeded to carry it
out. We jumped to the ground unhitched the mules quicker than it had ever been done before, and
tied them and my horse to the wagon. We threw the buffalo hams upon the ground and piled them
around the wheels in such a shape as to form a breast-work. All this was done in a shorter time than
it takes to tell it; and then, with our extra box of ammunition and three or four extra revolvers, which
we always carried along with us, we crept under the wagon and were fully prepared to give our
visitors the warmest kind of a reception.

The Indians came on pell-mell, but when they were within one hundred yards of us we opened such
a sudden and galling fire upon them that they held up and began to circle around the wagon instead
of riding up to take tea with us. They however charged back and forth upon us several times and
their shots killed the two mules and my horse; but we gave it to them right and left and had the
satisfaction of seeing three of them fall to the ground not more than fifty yards away. On perceiving
how well we were fortified and protected by our breast-work of hams, they probably came to the
conclusion that it would be a difficult undertaking to dislodge us, for they drew off and gave us a
rest, but only a short one.

 

SENDING UP A SIGNAL FOR HELP.
This was the kind of fighting we had been expecting for a long time, as we knew that sooner or later
we would be "jumped" by Indians while we were out buffalo hunting. I had an understanding with
the officers who commanded the troops at the end of the track, that in case their pickets should at
any time notice a smoke in the direction of our hunting ground they were to give the alarm, so that
assistance might be sent to us, for the smoke was to indicate that we were in danger. 

I now resolved to signal to the troops in the manner agreed on and at the first opportunity set fire to
the grass on the windward side of the wagon. The fire spread over the prairie at a rapid rate, causing
a dense smoke which I knew would be seen at the camp. The Indians did not seem to understand
this strategic movement. They got off from their horses and from behind a bank or knoll again
peppered away at us; but we were well fortified, and whenever they showed their heads we let them
know that we could shoot as well as they. 

After we had been cooped up in our little fort for about an hour, we discovered cavalry coming
toward us at full gallop over the prairie. Our signal of distress had proved a success. The Indians
saw the soldiers at about the same time that we did, and thinking that it would not be healthy for
them to remain much longer in that vicinity, they mounted their horses and disappeared down the
caons of the creek. When the soldiers came up we had the satisfaction of showing them five
"good" Indians &emdash;that is dead ones. Two hours later we pulled into camp with our load of
meat, which was found to be all right, except that it had a few bullets and arrows sticking in it.



CHAPTER IX
CHAMPION BUFFALO KILLER
Pretty soon after the adventures mentioned in the preceding chapter, I had my celebrated buffalo
hunt with Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide and interpreter, who was then chief of scouts at Fort
Wallace, Kansas. Comstock had the reputation, for a long time, of being a most successful buffalo
hunter, and the officers in particular, who had seen him kill buffaloes, were very desirous of backing
him in a match against me. It was accordingly arranged that I should shoot him a buffalo-killing
match, and the preliminaries were easily and satisfactorily agreed upon. We were to hunt one day of
eight hours, beginning at eight o'clock in the morning, and closing at four o'clock in the afternoon.
The wager was five hundred dollars a side, and the man who should kill the greater number of
buffaloes from on horseback was to be declared the winner.

The hunt took place about twenty miles east of Sheridan, and as it had been pretty well advertised
and noised abroad, a large crowd witnessed the interesting and exciting scene. An excursion party,
mostly from St. Louis, consisting of about a hundred gentlemen and ladies, came out on a special
train to view the sport, and among the number was my wife, with little baby Arta, who had come to
remain with me for a while.

The buffaloes were quite plenty, and it was agreed that we should go into the same herd at the same
time and "make a run," as we called it, each one killing as many as possible. A referee was to follow
each of us on horseback when we entered the herd, and count the buffaloes killed by each man. The
St. Louis excursionists, as well as the other spectators, rode out to the vicinity of the hunting
grounds in wagons and on horseback, keeping well out of sight of the buffaloes, so as not to
frighten them, until the time came for us to dash into the herd &emdash;when they were to come up
as near as they pleased and witness the chase.

We were fortunate in the first run in getting good ground. Comstock was mounted on one of his
favorite horses, while I rode old Brigham. I felt confident that I had the advantage of Comstock in
two things: first, I had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track; and second, I was using what
was known at that time as the needle-gun, a breech-loading Springfield rifle &emdash;calibre 50,
&emdash;it was my favorite old "Lucretia," which has already been introduced to the notice of the
reader; while Comstock was armed with a Henry rifle, and although he could fire a few shots quicker
than I could, yet I was pretty certain that it did not carry powder and lead enough to do execution
equal to my calibre 50.

 

A DASH lNTO THE HERD
At last the time came to begin the match. Comstock and I dashed into a herd, followed by the
referees. The buffaloes separated; Comstock took the left bunch and I the right. My great forte in
killing buffaloes from horseback was to get them circling by riding my horse at the head of the herd,
shooting the leaders, thus crowding their followers to the left, till they would finaily circle round and
round.

On this morning the buffaloes were very accommodating, and I soon had them running in a beautiful
circle, when I dropped them thick and fast, until I had killed thirty-eight; which finished my run.
Comstock began shooting at the rear of the herd which he was chasing, and they kept straight on. He
succeeded, however, in killing twenty-three, but they were scattered over a distance of three miles,
while mine lay close together. I had " nursed" my buffaloes, as a billiard-player does the balls when
he makes a big run.

After the result of the first run had been duly announced, our St. Louis excursion friends
&emdash;who had approached to the place where we had stopped &emdash;set out a lot of
champagne, which they had brought with them, and which proved a good drink on a Kansas prairie,
and a buffalo hunter was a good man to get away with it.

While taking a short rest, we suddenly spied another herd of buffaloes coming toward us. It was
only a small drove, and we at once prepared to give the animals a lively reception. They proved to be
a herd of cows and calves &emdash;which, by the way, are quicker in their movements than the
bulls. We charged in among them, and I concluded my run with a score of eighteen, while Comstock
killed fourteen. The score now stood fifty-six to thirty-seven, in my favor. 

 

AN EXHIBITION FOR THE LADIES.
Again the excursion party approached, and once more the champagne was tapped. After we had
eaten a lunch which was spread for us, we resumed the hunt. Striking out for a distance of three
miles, we came up close to another herd. As I was so far ahead of my competitor in the number
killed, I thought I could afford to give an extra exhibition of my skill. I had told the ladies that I
would, on the next run, ride my horse without saddle or bridle. This had raised the excitement to
fever heat among the excursionists and I remember one fair lady who endeavored to prevail upon me
not to attempt it.

"That's nothing at all," said I; "I have done it many a time, and old Brigham knows as well as I what I
am doing, and sometimes a great deal better."

So, leaving my saddle and bridle with the wagons, we rode to the windward of the buffaloes, as
usual, and when within a few hundred yards of them we dashed into the herd. I soon had thirteen laid
out on the ground, the last one of which I had driven down close to the wagons, where the ladies
were. It frightened some of the tender creatures to see the buffalo coming at full speed directly
toward them; but when he had got within fifty yards of one of the wagons, I shot him dead in his
tracks. This made my sixty-ninth buffalo, and finished my third and last run, Comstock having killed
forty-six. 

As it was now late in the afternoon, Comstock and his backers gave up the idea that he could beat
me, and thereupon the referees declared me the winner of the match, as well as the champion
buffalo-hunter of the plains.*

[* Poor Billy Comstock was afterwards treacherously murdered by the Indians. He and Sharpe
Grover visited a village of Indians, supposed to be peaceably inclined, near Big Spring station, in
Western Kansas; and after spending several hours with the red-skins in friendly conversation, they
prepared to depart, having declined an invitation to pass the night there. It appears that Comstock's
beautiful white-handled revolver had attracted the attention of the Indians, who overtook him and his
companion when they had gone about half a mile. After surrounding the two men they suddenly
attacked them. They killed, scalped and robbed Comstock; but Grover, although severely wounded,
made his escape, owing to the fleetness of the excellent horse which he was riding. This sad event
occurred August 27.]

On our way back to camp, we took with us some of the choice meat and finest heads. In this
connection it will not be out of place to state that during the time I was hunting for the Kansas
Pacific, I always brought into camp the best buffalo heads, and turned them over to the company,
who found a very good use for them. They had them mounted in the best possible manner, and sent
them to all the principal cities and railroad centers in the country, having them placed in prominent
positions at the leading hotels, depots, and other public buildings, as a sort of trade-mark, or
advertisement, of the Kansas Pacific railroad; and to-day they attract the attention of the traveler
almost everywhere. Whenever I am traveling over the country and see one of these trade-marks, I
feel pretty certain that I was the cause of the death of the old fellow whose body it once ornamented,
and many a wild and exciting hunt is thus called to mind. 

The end of the track finally reached Sheridan, in the month of May, 1868, and as the road was not to
be built any farther just then, my services as a hunter were not any longer required. At this time there
was a general Indian war raging all along the Western borders. General Sheridan had taken up his
headquarters at Fort Hays, in order to be in the field to superintend the campaign in person. As
scouts and guides were in great demand, I concluded once more to take up my old avocation of
scouting and guiding for the army.

 

BRIGHAM AND I PART COMPANY
Having no suitable place in which to leave my old and faithful buffalo-hunter Brigham, and not wish
ng to kill him by scouting, I determined to dispose of him. I was very reluctant to part with him, but I
consoled myself with the thought that he would not be likely to receive harder usage in other hands
than he had in mine. I had several good offers to sell him; but at the suggestion of some gentlemen in
Sheridan, all of whom were anxious to obtain possession of the horse, I put him up at a raffle, in
order to give them all an equal chance of becoming the owner of the famous steed. There were ten
chances at thirty dollars each, and they were all quickly taken. 

Old Brigham was won by a gentleman &emdash;Mr. Ike Bonham &emdash;who took him to
Wyandotte, Kansas, where he soon added new laurels to his already brilliant record. Although I am
getting ahead of my story, I must now follow Brigham for a while. A grand tournament came off four
miles from Wyandotte, and Brigham took part an it. As has already been stated, his appearance was
not very prepossessing, and nobody suspected him of being anything but the most ordinary kind of
a plug. The friends of the rider laughed at him for being mounted on such a dizzy-looking steed.
When the exercises &emdash;which were of a very tame character, being more for style than speed
&emdash;were over, and just as the crowd was about to return to the city, a purse of $250 was
made up, to be given to the horse that could first reach Wyandotte, four miles distant. The
arrangement was carried out, and Brigham was entered as one of the contestants for the purse.
Everybody laughed at Mr. Bonham when it became known that he was to ride that poky-looking plug
against the five thoroughbreds which were to take part in the race.

When all the preliminaries had been arranged, the signal was given, and off went the horses for
Wyandotte. For the first half-mile several of the horses led Brigham, but on the second mile he began
passing them one after another, and on the third mile he was in advance of them all, and was showing
them the road at a lively rate. On the fourth mile his rider let him out, and arrived at the hotel
&emdash;the home-station &emdash;in Wyandotte a long way ahead of his fastest competitor.

Everybody was surprised as well as disgusted, that such a homely "critter" should be the winner.
Brigham,of course, had already acquired a wide reputation, and his name and exploits had often
appeared in the newspapers, and when it was learned that this "critter " was none other than the
identical buffalo-hunting Brigham, nearly the whole crowd admitted that they had heard of him
before, and had they known him in the first place they certainly would have ruled him out.

But to return to the thread of my narrative, from which I have wandered. Having received the
appointment of guide and scout, and having been ordered to report at Fort Larned, then commanded
by Captain Dangerfield Parker, I saw it was necessary to take my family &emdash;who had
remained with me at Sheridan after the buffalo-hunting match &emdash;to Leavenworth and there
leave them. This I did at once, and after providing them with a comfortable little home I returned and
reported for duty at Fort Larned.



CHAPTER X
ACTING AS SPECIAL SCOUT
Nearly all the scouts operating in Western Kansas, at the time of which I write, made their principal
headquarters at Fort Larned, and were commanded by Dick Curtis, an old guide, frontiersman and
Indian interpreter. When I first visited the place in the line of duty there were some three hundred
lodges of Kiowas and Comanche Indians camped near the fort. These Indians had not as yet gone
upon the war-path, but were restless and discontented, and their leading chiefs, Satanta, Lone Wolf,
Kicking Bird, Satank, Sittamore, and other noted warriors, were rather saucy. The post at the time
was garrisoned by only two companies of infantry and one of cavalry.

General Hazen, who was at the post, was endeavoring to pacify the Indians and keep them from
going on the war-path. I was appointed as his special scout, and one morning he notified me that he
was going to Fort Harker and wished me to accompany him as far Fort Zarah, thirty miles distant.
The General usually traveled in an ambulance, but this trip he was to make in a six-mule wagon,
under the escort of a squad of twenty infantry-men.

So, early one morning in August, we started, arriving safely at Fort Zarah at twelve o'clock. General
Hazen thought it unnecessary that we should go father, and he proceeded on his way to Fort Harker
without an escort, leaving instructions that we should return to Fort Larned the next day.

After the General had gone I went to the sergeant in command of the squad and told him that I was
going back that very afternoon instead of waiting until the next morning and I accordingly saddled up
my mule and set out for Fort Larned. I proceeded uninterruptedly until I got about half-way between
the two posts, when at Pawnee Rock I was suddenly "jumped" by about forty Indians, who came
dashing up to me, extending their hands and saying, "How! How!" They were some of the Indians
who had been hanging around Fort Larned in the morning. I saw they had on their war paint, and
were evidently now out on the war-path.

 

CAPTURED BY INDIANS
My first impulse was to shake hands with them, as they seemed so desirous of it. I accordingly
reached out my hand to one of them, who grasped it with a tight grip, and jerked me violently
forward; another pulled my mule by the bridle, and in a moment I was completely surrounded.
Before I could do anything at all, they had seized my revolvers from the holsters, and I received a
blow on the head from a tomahawk which nearly rendered me senseless. My gun, which was lying
across the saddle, was snatched from its place, and finally the Indian who had hold of the bridle
started off towards the Arkansas river, leading the mule, which was being lashed by the other Indians
who were following. The savages were all singing, yelling and whooping, as only Indians can do,
when they are having their little game all their own way. While looking towards the river I saw, on the
opposite side, an immense village moving down along the bank, and then I became convinced that
the Indians had left the post and were now starting out on the war-path. My captors crossed the
stream with me, and as we waded through the shallow water they continued to lash the mule and
myself. Finally they brought me before an important looking body of Indians, who proved to be
chiefs and principal warriors. I soon recognized old Satanta among them, as well as others whom I
knew and I supposed it was all over with me.

The Indians were jabbering away so rapidly among themselves that I could not understand what they
were saying. Satanta at last asked me where I had been; and as good luck would have it, a happy
thought struck me: I told him I had been after a herd of cattle or "whoa-haws," as they called them. It
so happened that the Indians had been out of meat for several weeks, as the large herd of cattle
which had been promised them had not yet arrived, although expected by them.

 

A CLEVER RUSE SECURES MY ESCAPE
The moment I mentioned that I had been searching for the "whoa-haws," old Santa began
questioning me in a very eager manner. He asked me where the cattle were, and I replied that they
were back only a few miles, and that I had been sent by General Hazen to inform him that the cattle
were coming, and that they were intended for his people. This seemed to please the old rascal, who
also wanted to know if there were any soldiers with the herd, and my reply was that there were.
Thereupon the chiefs held a consultation, and presently Satanta asked me if General Hazen had really
said that they should have the cattle. I replied an the affirmative, and added that I had been directed
to bring the cattle to them. I followed this up with a very dignified inquiry, asking why his young men
had treated me so. The old wretch intimated that it was only "a freak of the boys;" that the young
men wanted to see if I was brave; in fact, they had only meant to test my bravery, and that the whole
thing was a joke.

The veteran liar was now beating me at my own game of lying; but I was very glad of it, as it was in
my favor. I did not let him suspect that I doubted his veracity, but I remarked that it was a rough
way to treat friends. He immediately ordered his young men to give me back my arms and scolded
them for what they had done. Of course, the sly old dog was now playing it very fine, as he was
anxious to get possession of the cattle, with which he believed "there was a heap of soldiers
coming." He had concluded it was not best to fight the soldiers if he could get the cattle peaceably.

Another council was held by the chiefs and in a few minutes old Satanta came and asked me if I
would go over and bring the cattle down to the opposite side of the river, so that they could get
them. I replied: "Of course; that's my instruction from General Hazen." 

Satanta said I must not feel angry at his young men, for they had only been acting in fun. He then
inquired if I wished any of his men to accompany me to the cattle herd. I replied that it would be
better for me to go alone, and then the soldiers could keep right on to Fort Larned, while I could
drive the herd down on the bottom. So, wheeling my mule around, I was soon recrossing the river,
leaving old Satanta in the firm belief that I had told him a straight story and was going for the cattle
which only existed in my imagination.

I hardly knew what to do, but thought that if I could get the river between the Indians and myself I
would have a good three-quarters of a mile the start of them, and could then make a run for Fort
Larned, as my mule was a good one.

 

STRETCHING MY MULE
Thus far my cattle story had panned out all right; but just as I reached the opposite bank of the river
I looked behind and saw that ten or fifteen Indians who had begun to suspect something crooked
were following me. The moment that my mule secured a good foothold on the bank I urged him into
a gentle lope towards the place where, according to my statement, the cattle were to be brought.
Upon reaching a little ridge and riding down the other side out of view, I turned my mule and headed
him westward for Fort Larned. I let him out for all that he was worth, and when I came out on a little
rise of ground I looked back and saw the Indian village in plain sight. My pursuers were now on the
ridge which I had passed over and were looking for me in every direction.

Presently they spied me, and seeing that I was running away they struck out in swift pursuit, and in a
few minutes it became painfully evident that they were gaining on me. They kept up the chase as far
as Ash creek, six miles from Fort Larned. I still led them half a mile, as their horses had not gained
much during the last half of the race. My mule seemed to have gotten his second wind, and as I was
on the old road I played the whip and spurs on him without much cessation. The Indians likewise
urged their steeds to the utmost. 

Finally, upon reaching the dividing ridge between Ash creek and Pawnee fork, I saw Fort Larned
only four miles away. It was now sundown and I heard the evening gun at the fort. The troops of the
little garrison little dreamed that there was a man flying for his life from the Indians and trying to
reach the post. The Indians were once more gaining on me, and when I crossed the Pawnee folk,
two miles from the post, two or three of them were only a quarter of a mile behind me. Just as I had
gained the opposite bank of the stream I was overjoyed to see some soldiers in a government wagon
only a short distance off. I yelled at the top of my voice and, riding up to them, told them that the
Indians were after me.

 

AMBUSHING THE PURSUERS
Denver Jim, a well known scout, asked how many there were, and upon my informing him that there
were about a dozen, he said "Let's drive the wagon into the trees, and we'll lay for 'em." The team
was hurriedly driven in among the trees and low box elder bushes, and there secreted.

We did not have to wait long for the Indians, who came dashing up, lashing their horses, which were
panting and blowing. We let two of them pass by,but we opened a lively fire on the next three or
four, killing two at the first crack. The others following, discovered that they had run into an ambush,
and whirling off into the brush they turned and ran back in the direction whence they had come. The
two who had passed heard the firing and made their escape. We scalped the two that we had killed,
and appropriated their arms and equipments; and then catching their horses, we made our way into
the post. The soldiers had heard us firing, and as we were approaching the fort the drums were being
beaten, and the buglers were sounding the call to fall in. The officers thought that Satanta and his
Indians were coming in to capture the fort.

It seems that on the morning of that day, two hours after General Hazen had taken his departure, old
Satanta drove into the post in an ambulance, which he had received some months before as a present
from the government. He appeared to be angry and bent on mischief. In an interview with Captain
Parker, the commanding officer, he asked why General Hazen had left the post without supplying the
beef cattle which he had promised him. The Captain told him that the cattle were surely on the road,
but he could not explain why they were detained. 

The interview proved to be a stormy one, and Satanta made numerous threats, saying that if he
wished, he could capture the whole post with his warriors. Captain Parker, who was a brave man,
gave Satanta to understand that he was reckoning beyond his powers, and would find it a more
difficult undertaking than he had any idea of, as they were prepared for him at any moment. The
interview finally terminated, and Satanta angrily left the officer's presence. Going over to the sutler's
store, he sold his ambulance to Mr. Tappan the post-trader, and with a portion of the proceeds he
secretly managed to secure some whisky from some bad men around the fort. There are always to
be found about every frontier post some men who will sell whisky to the Indians at any time and
under any circumstances, notwithstanding it is a flagrant violation of both civil and military
regulations.

Satanta mounted his horse, and taking the whisky with him he rode rapidly away and proceeded
straight to his village. He had not been gone over an hour, when he returned to the vicinity of the
post accompanied by his warriors who came in from every direction, to the number of seven or eight
hundred. It was evident that the irate old rascal was "on his ear," so to speak, and it looked as if he
intended to carry out his threat of capturing the fort. The garrison at once turned out and prepared to
recelve the red-skins, who, when within half a mile, circled around the fort and fired numerous shots
into it, instead of trying to take it by assault.

 

GOING ON THE WARPATH.
While this circular movement was going on, it was observed that the Indian village in the distance
was packing up, preparatory to leaving, and it was soon under way. The mounted warriors remained
behind some little time, to give their families an opportunity to get away, as they feared that the
troops might possibly in some manner intercept them. Finally, they encircled the post several times,
fired some farewell rounds, and then galloped away over the prairie to overtake their fast departing
village. On their way thither, they surprised and killed a party of wood choppers down on the
Pawnee fork, as well as some herders who were guarding beef cattle; some seven or eight men in all
were killed, and it was evident that the Indians meant business.

The soldiers with the wagon &emdash;whom I had met at the crossing of the Pawnee fork
&emdash;had been out for the bodies of the men. Under the circumstances it was no wonder that
the garrison, upon hearing the reports of our guns when we fired upon the party whom we
ambushed, should have thought the Indians were coming back to give them another "turn."

We found that all was excitement at the post; double guards had been put on duty, and Captain
Parker had all the scouts at his headquarters. He was endeavoring to get some one to take some
important dispatches to General Sheridan at Fort Hays. I reported to him at once, and stated where I
met the Indians and how I had escaped from them.

"You were very fortunate, Cody, in thinking of that cattle story; but for that little game your hair
would now be an ornament to a Kiowa's lodge," said he.

Just then Dick Curtis spoke up and said: "Cody, the Captain is anxious to send some dispatches to
General Sheridan, at Fort Hays, and none of the scouts here seem to be very willing to undertake the
trip. They say they are not well enough acquainted with the country to find the way at night."

 

A TERRIBLE DUTY.
As a storm was coming up it was quite dark, and the scouts, feared that they would lose the way;
besides, it was a dangerous ride, as a large party of Indians were known to be camped on Walnut
creek, on the direct road to Fort Hays. It was evident that Curtis was trying to induce me to
volunteer, so I made some evasive answer to him for I did not care to volunteer after my long day's
ride. But Curtis did not let the matter drop. Said he:&emdash;

"I wish, Bill, that you were not so tired by your chase of today, for you know the country better than
the rest of the boys, and I am certain that you could go through."

"As far as the ride to Fort Hays is concerned, that alone would matter but little to me," I said, "but it
is a risky piece of work just now, as the country is full of hostile Indians; still, if no other scout is
willing to volunteer, I will chance it. I'll go, provided I am furnished with a good horse. l am tired of
being chased on a government mule by Indians." At this Captain Nolan, who had been listening to
our conversation, said:&emdash;

"Bill, you may have the best horse in my company. You can take your choice if you will carry these
dispatches. Although it is against regulations to dismount an enlisted man, I have no hesitancy in
such a case of urgent necessity as this is, in telling you that you may have any horse you may wish."

"Captain, your first sergeant has a splendid horse, and that's the one I want. If he'll let me ride that
horse, I'll be ready to start in one hour, storm or no storm," said I.

"Good enough, Bill; you shall have the horse; but are you sure you can find your way on such a dark
night as this?"

"I have hunted on nearly every acre of ground between here and Fort Hays, and I can almost keep
my route by the bones of the dead buffaloes," I confidently replied.

"Never fear, Captain, about Cody not finding the way; he is as good in the dark as he is in the
daylight," said Curtis.

 

OFF IN THE DARK
An orderly was sent for the horse, and the animal was soon brought up, although the sergeant
"kicked" a little against letting him go. After eating a lunch and filling a canteen with brandy, I went to
headquarters and put my own saddle and bridle on the horse I was to ride. I then got the dispatches,
and by ten o'clock was on the road to Fort Hays, which was sixty-five miles distant across the
country. 

It was dark as pitch, but this I rather liked, as there was little probability of any of the red-skins
seeing me unless I stumbled upon them accidentally. My greatest danger was that my horse might
run into a hole and fall down, and in this way get away from me. To avoid any such accident, I tied
one end of my raw-hide lariat to the bridle and the other end to my belt. I didn't propose to be left on
foot alone out on the prairie.

It was, indeed, a wise precaution that I had taken, for within the next three miles the horse, sure
enough, stepped into a prairie dog's hole, and down he went, throwing me clear over his head.
Springing to his feet, before I could catch hold of the bridle, he galloped away into the darkness; but
when he reached the full length of the lariat, he found that he was not so loose as he believed. I
brought him up standing, and after finding my gun, which had dropped to the ground, I went up to
him and in a moment was in the saddle again, and went on my way rejoicing, keeping straight on my
course until I came to the ravines leading into Walnut creek, twenty-five miles from Fort Larned,
where the country became rougher, requiring me to travel slower and more carefully, as I feared the
horse might fall over the bank, it being difficult to see anything five feet ahead. As a good horse is
not very apt to jump over a bank, if left to guide himself, I let mine pick his own way. I was now
proceeding as quietly as possible, for I was in the vicinity of a band of Indians who had recently
camped in that locality. I thought that I had passed somewhat above the spot, having made a little
circuit to the west with that intention, but as bad luck would have it this time, when I came up near
the creek I suddenly rode in among a herd of horses. The animals became frightened and ran off in
every direction.

 

STUMBLlNG ONTO A HORNETS' NEST
I knew at once that I was among Indian horses, and had walked into the wrong pew; so without
waiting to apologize, I backed out as quickly as possible. At this moment a dog, not fifty yards
away, set up a howl, and then I heard some Indians engaged in conversation; &emdash;they were
guarding the horses, and had been sleeping. Hearing my horse's retreating footsteps towards the
hills, and thus becoming aware that there had been an enemy in their camp, they mounted their steeds
and started for me.

I urged my horse to his full speed, taking the chances of his falling into holes, and guided him up the
creek bottom. The Indians followed me as fast as they could by the noise I made, but I soon
distanced them, and then crossed the creek.

When I had traveled several miles in a straight course, as I supposed, I took out my compass and by
the light of a match saw that I was bearing two points to the east of north. At once changing my
course to the direct route, I pushed rapidly on through the darkness towards Smoky Hill river. At
about three o'clock in the morning I began traveling more cautiously, as I was afraid of running into
another band of Indians. Occasionally I scared up a herd of buffaloes, or antelopes, or coyotes, or
deer, which would frighten my horse for a moment, but with the exception of these slight alarms I
got along all right.

After crossing Smoky Hill river, I felt comparatively safe as this was the last stream I had to pass.
Riding on to the northward I struck the old Santa Fe trail, ten miles from Fort Hays, just at break of
day.

My horse did not seem much fatigued, and being anxious to make good time and get as near the
post as possible before it was fairly daylight, as there might be bands of Indians camped along Big
creek, I urged him forward as fast as he could go. As I had not "lost" any Indians, I was not now
anxious to make their acquaintance, and shortly after reveille rode into the post. I proceeded directly
to General Sheridan's headquarters, and was met at the door by Colonel Moore, aid-de-camp on
General Sheridan's staff, who asked me on what business I had come.

"I have dispatches for General Sheridan, and my instructions from Captain Parker, commanding
Fort Larned, are that they shall be delivered to the General as soon as possible," said I.

Colonel Moore invited me into one of the offices, and said he would hand the dispatches to the
General as soon as he got up.

"I prefer to give these dispatches to General Sheridan myself, and at once," was my reply.

The General, who was sleeping in the same building, hearing our voices, called out, "Send the man in
with the dispatches." I was ushered into the General's presence, and as we had met before he
recognised me and said: "Hello, Cody, is that you?"

"Yes, sir; I have some dispatches here for you, from Captain Parker," said I, as I handed the
package over to him.

He hurriedly read them, and said they were important; and then he asked me all about General Hazen
and where he had gone, and about the breaking out of the Kiowas and Comanches. I gave him all the
information that I possessed, and related the events and adventures of the previous day and night.

 

AN INTERVIEW WITH SHERIDAN
"Bill," said he, "you must have had a pretty lively ride. You certainly had a close call when you ran
into the Indians on Walnut creek. That was a good joke that you played on old Satanta. I suppose
you're pretty tired after your long journey ?"

"I am rather weary, General, that's a fact, as I have been in the saddle since yesterday morning;" was
my reply, "but my horse is more tired than I am, and needs attention fully as much if not more," I
added. Thereupon the General called an orderly and gave nstructions to have my animal well taken
care of, and then he said, "Cody, come in and have some breakfast with me."

"No, thank you, General," said I, "Hays City is only a mile from here, and I prefer riding over there,
as I know about every one in the town, and want to see some of my friends."

"Very well; do as you please, and come to the post afterwards as I want to see you," said he.

Bidding him good-morning, and telling him that I would return in a few hours. I rode over to Hays
City, and at the Perry House I met many of my old friends who were of course all glad to see me. I
took some refreshments and a two hours' nap, and afterward returned to Fort Hays, as I was
requested.

As I rodeup to the headquarters I noticed several scouts in a little group, evidently engaged in
conversation on some important matter. Upon inquiry I learned that General Sheridan had informed
them that he was desirous of sending a dispatch to Fort Dodge, a distance of ninety-five miles.

The Indians had recently killed two or three men while they were carrying dispatches between Fort
Hays and Fort Dodge, and on this account none of the scouts seemed at all anxious to volunteer,
although a reward of several hundred dollars was offered to any one who would carry the
dispatches. They had learned of my experiences of the previous day, and asked me if I did not think
it would be a dangerous trip. I gave it as my opinion that a man might possibly go through without
seeing an Indian, but that the chances were ten to one that he would have an exceedingly lively run
and a hard time before he reached his destination, if he ever got there at all.

 

A LONG RIDE.
Leaving the scouts to decide among themselves as to who was to go, I reported to General
Sheridan, who also informed me that he wished some one to carry dispatches to Fort Dodge. While
we were talking, his chief of scouts, Dick Parr, entered and stated that none of the scouts had yet
volunteered. Upon hearing this I got my "brave" up a little, and said: "General, if there is no one
ready to volunteer, I'll carry your dispatches myself."

"I had not thought of asking you to do this duty, Cody, as you are already pretty hard worked. But it
is really important that these dispatches should go through," said the General.

"Well, if you don't get a courier by four o'clock this afternoon, I'll be ready for business at that time.
All I want is a fresh horse," said I; "meantime I'll take a little more rest."

It was not much of a rest, however, that I got, for I went over to Hays City again and had "a time
with the boys." I came back to the post at the appointed hour, and finding that no one had
volunteered, I reported to General Sheridan. He had selected an excellent horse for me, and on
handing me the dispatches, he said: "You can start as soon as you wish&emdash;the sooner the
better; and good luck go with you, my boy."

In about an hour afterwards I was on the road, and just before dark I crossed Smoky Hill river. I had
not yet urged my horse much, as I was saving his strength for the latter end of the route, and for any
run that I might have to make in case the "wild-boys" should "jump" me. So far I had not seen a sign
of Indians, and as evening came on I felt comparatively safe.

I had no adventures worth relating during the night, and just before daylight I found myself
approaching Saw-log crossing, on the Pawnee fork, having then ridden about seventy miles. A
company of colored cavalry, commanded by Major Cox, was stationed at this point, and I
approached their camp cautiously, for fear that the pickets might fire upon me &emdash;as the
darkey soldiers were liable to shoot first and cry "halt" afterwards. When within hearing distance I
yelled out at the top of my voice, and was answered by one of the pickets. I told him not to shoot,
as I was a scout from Fort Hays; and then, calling the sergeant of the guard, I went up to the vidette
of the post, who readily recognized me. I entered the camp and proceeded to the tent of Major Cox,
to whom I handed a letter from General Sheridan requesting him to give me a fresh horse. He at once
complied with the request. After I had slept an hour and had eaten a lunch, I again jumped into the
saddle, and before sunrise I was once more on the road. It was twenty-five miles to Fort Dodge, and
I arrived there between nine and ten o'clock, without having seen a single Indian.

After delivering the dispatches to the commanding officer, I met Johnny Austin, chief of scouts at
this post, who was an old friend of mine. Upon his invitation I took a nap at his house, and when I
awoke, fresh for business once more, he informed me that the Indians had been all around the post
for the past two or three days, running off cattle and horses, and occasionally killing a stray man. It
was a wonder to him that I had met with none of the red-skins on the way there. The Indians, he
said, were also very thick on the Arkansas river, between Fort Dodge and Fort Larned, and making
considerable trouble. Fort Dodge was located sixty-five miles west of Fort Larned, the latter post
being on the Pawnee fork, about five miles from its junction with the Arkansas river.

 

A DANGEROUS UNDERTAKING.
The commanding officer at Fort Dodge was anxious to send some dispatches to Fort Larned, but
the scouts, like those at Fort Hays, were rather backward about volunteering, as it was considered a
very dangerous undertaking to make the trip. As Fort Larned was my post, and as I wanted to go
there anyhow, I said to Austin that I would carry the dispatches, and if any of the boys wished to go
along, I would like to have them for company's sake. Austin reported my offer to the commanding
officer, who sent for me and said he would be happy to have me take his dispatches, if I could stand
the trip on top of all that I had already done. "All I want is a good fresh horse, sir," said I.

"I am sorry to say that we haven't a decent horse here, but we have a reliable and honest government
mule, if that will do you," said the officer. "Trot out your mule," said I, "that's good enough for me.
I am ready at any time, sir."

The mule was forthcoming, and at dark I pulled out for Fort Larned, and proceeded uninterruptedly
to Coon creek, thirty miles out from Dodge. I had left the main wagon road some distance to the
south, and had traveled parallel with it, thinking this to be a safer course, as the Indians might be
lying in wait on the main road for dispatch bearers and scouts.

At Coon creek I dismounted and led the mule by the bridle down to the water, where I took a drink,
using my hat for a dipper. While I was engaged in getting the water, the mule jerked loose and struck
out down the creek. I followed him in hopes that he would catch his foot in the bridle-rein and stop,
but this he seemed to have no idea of doing. He was making straight for the wagon road, and I did
not know what minute he might run into a band of Indians. He finally got on the road, but instead of
going back toward Fort Dodge, as I naturally expected he would do, he turned eastward toward Fort
Larned, and kept up a little jog trot just ahead of me, but would not let me come up to him, although
I tried it again and again. I had my gun in my hand, and several times I was strongly tempted to shoot
him, and would probably have done so had it not been for fear of bringing Indians down upon me,
and besides he was carrying the saddle for me. So I trudged on after the obstinate "critter," and if
there ever was a government mule that deserved and received a good round cursing it was that one. I
had neglected the precaution of tying one end of my lariat to his bit and the other to my belt, as I had
done a few nights before, and I blamed myself for this gross piece of negligence.

 

A PROVOKING MULE.
Mile after mile I kept on after that mule, and every once in a while I indulged in strong language
respecting the whole mule fraternity. From Coon creek to Fort Larned it was thirty-five miles, and I
finally concluded that my prospects were good for "hoofing" the whole distance. We &emdash;that
is to say, the confounded mule and myself &emdash;were making pretty good time. There was
nothing to hold the mule, and I was all the time trying to catch him &emdash;which urged him on. I
made every step count, for I wanted to reach Fort Larned before daylight, in order to avoid if
possible the Indians, to whom it would have been "pie" to have caught me there on foot.

The mule stuck to the road and kept on for Larned, and I did the same thing. Just as day was
beginning to break, we &emdash;that is the mule and myself &emdash;found ourselves on a hill
looking down into the valley of the Pawnee fork, in which Fort Larned was located, only four miles
away; and when the morning gun belched forth we were within half a mile of the post.

"Now," said I, "Mr. Mule, it is my turn," and raising my gun to my shoulder, in "dead earnest" this
time, I blazed away, hitting the animal in the hip. Throwing a second cartridge into the gun, I let him
have another shot, and I continued to pour the lead into him until I had him completely laid out. Like
the great majority of government mules, he was a tough one to kill, and he clung to life with all the
tenaciousness of his obstinate nature. He was, without doubt, the toughest and meanest mule I ever
saw, and he died hard. 

The troops, hearing the reports of the gun, came rushing out to see what was the matter. They found
that the mule had passed in his chips, and when they learned the cause they all agreed that I had
served him just right. Taking the saddle and bridle from the dead body, I proceeded into the post
and delivered the dispatches to Captain Parker. I then went over to Dick Curtis' house, which was
headquarters for the scouts and there put in several hours of solid sleep.

During the day General Hazen returned from Fort Harker, and he also had some important
dispatches to send to General Sheridan. I was feeling quite elated over my big ride; and seeing that I
was getting the best of the other scouts in regard to making a record, I volunteered to carry General
Hazen's dispatches to Fort Hays. The General accepted my services, although he thought it was
unnecessary for me to kill myself. I told him that I had business at

Fort Hays, and wished to go there anyway, and it would make no difference to the other scouts for
none of them appeared willing to undertake the trip.

Accordingly that night I left Fort Larned on an excellent horse, and next morning at daylight found
myself once more in General Sheridan's headquarters at Fort Hays. The General was surprised to
see me, and

still more so when I told him of the time I had made in riding to Fort Dodge, and that I had taken
dispatches from Fort Dodge to Fort Larned; and when, in addition to this, I mentioned my journey
of the night previous, General Sheridan thought my ride from post to post, taken as a whole, was a
remarkable one, and he said that he did not know of its equal. I can safely say that I have never heard
of its being beaten in a country infested with hostile Indians.

To recapitulate: I had ridden from Fort Larned to Fort Zarah (a distance of sixty-five miles) and back
in twelve hours, including the time when I was taken across the Arkansas by the Indians. In the
succeeding twelve hours I had gone from Fort Larned to Fort Hays, a distance of sixty-five miles. In
the next twenty-four hours I had gone from Fort Hays to Fort Dodge, a distance of ninety-five miles.
The following night I had traveled from Fort Dodge thirty miles on muleback and thirty-five miles on
foot to Fort Larned; and the next night sixty-five miles more to Fort Hays. Altogether I had ridden
(and walked) 355 miles in fifty-eight riding hours, or an average of over six miles an hour. Of course,
this may not be regarded as very fast riding, but taking into consideration the fact that it was mostly
done in the night and over a wild country, with no roads to follow, and that I had to be continually
on the look-out for Indians it was thought at the time to be a big ride, as well as a most dangerous
one.



CHAPTER XI
MY APPOINTMENT AS CHIEF OF SCOUTS
General Sheridan highly complimented me for what I had done and informed me that I need not
report back to General Hazen, as he had more important work for me to do. He told me that the
Fifth Cavalry &emdash;one of the finest regiments in the army &emdash;was on its way to the
Depart ment of the Missouri, and that he was going to send it on an expedition against the Dog
Soldier Indians, who were infesting the Republican river region.

"Cody," continued he, "I have decided to appoint you as guide and chief of Scouts with the
command. How does that suit you?"

"First-rate, General, and I thank you for the honor," I replied, as gracefully as I knew how.

The Dog Soldier Indians were a band of Cheyennes and unruly, turbulent members of other tribes,
who would not enter into any treaty, or keep a treaty if they made one, and who had always refused
to go upon a reservation. They were a warlike body of well built, daring and restless braves, and
were determined to hold possession of the country in the vicinity of the Republican and Solomon
rivers. They were called "Dog Soldiers" because they were principally Cheyennes &emdash;a name
derived from the French chien, a dog.

 

SCOUTING
On the third day of October the Fifth cavalry arrived at Fort

Hays, and I at onoe began making the acquaintance of the different offers of the regiment. I was
introduced by General Sheridan to Colonel William Royal, who was in command of the regiment. He
was a gallant officer and an agreeable and pleasant gentleman. He was afterwards stationed at Omaha
as InspectorGeneral in the Department of the Platte. I also became acquainted with Major W. H.
Brown, Major Walker, Captain Sweetman, Quartermaster E. M. Hays, and in fact all the officers of
the regiment.

General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the Indians who had lately fought General Forsyth, did
not give the regiment much of a rest, and accordingly on the 5th of October it began its march for
the Beaver creek country. The first night we camped on the south fork of Big creek, four miles west
of Hays City. By this time I had become pretty well acquainted with Major Brown and Captain
Sweetman, who invited me to mess with them on this expedition, and a jolly mess we had. There
were other scouts in the command besides myself and I particularly remember Tom Renahan, Hank
Fields and a character called "Nosey" on account of his long nose.

On the morning of the 6th we pulled out to the north, and during the day I was very favorably struck
with the appearance of the regiments It was a beautiful command and when strung out on the prairie
with a train of seventy-five six-mule wagons, ambulances and pack-mules, I felt very proud of my
position as guide and chief of scouts of such a warlike expedition.

Just as we were about to go into camp on the Saline river that night, we ran on to a band of about
fifteen Indians, who, seeing us, dashed across the creek, followed by some bullets which we sent
after them; but as the small band proved to be a scouting party, we pursued them only a mile or two,
when our attention was directed to a herd of buffaloes, which we immediately pursued and killed ten
or fifteen for the command.

The next day we marched thirty miles, and late in the after noon we went into camp on the South
fork of the Solomon. At this encampment Colonel Royal asked me to go out and kill some buffaloes
for the boys.

"All right, Colonel, send along a wagon or two to bring in the meat," I said.

"I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons until I know that there is something to be hauled in;
kill your buffaloes first and then I'll send out the wagons," was the Colonel's reply. I said no more,
but went out on a hunt, and after a short absence returned and asked the Colonel to send his wagons
over the hill for the half dozen buffaloes I had killed.

 

BRINGING LIVE BUFFALOES INTO CAMP
The following afternoon he again requested me to go out and get some fresh buffalo meat. I didn't
ask him for any wagons this time, but rode out some distance, and coming up with a small herd, I
managed to get seven of them headed straight for the encampment, and instead of shooting them just
then, I ran them at full speed right into the camp, and then killed them all, one after the other in rapid
succession. Colonel Royal witnessed the whole proceeding, which puzzled him somewhat, as he
could see no reason why I had not killed them on the prairie. He came up rather angrily, and
demanded an explanation. "I can't allow any such business as this, Cody," said he, "what do you
mean by it?"

"I didn't care about asking for any wagons this time, Colonel; so I thought I would make the
buffaloes furnish their own transportation" was my reply. The Colonel saw the point in a moment,
and had no more to say on the subject.

No Indians had been seen in the vicinity during the day and Colonel Royal having carefully posted
his pickets, supposed everything was serene for the night. But before morning we were aroused from
our slumbers by hearing shots fired, and immediately afterwards one of the mounted pickets came
galloping into camp, saying that there were Indians close at hand. The companies all fell into line, and
were soon prepared and anxious to give the redskins battle; but as the men were yet new in the
Indian country a great many of them were considerably excited. No Indians, however, made their
appearance, and upon going to the picket-post where the picket said he seen them none could be
found, nor could any traces of them be discovered The sentinel, &emdash;who was an Irishman,
&emdash;insisted that there certainly had been red-skins there.

 

A SCARED IRISHMAN
"But you must be mistaken," said Colonel Royal.

"Upon me sowl, Colonel, I'm not; as shure ez me name's Pat Maloney, one of thim rid divils hit me
on the head wid a club, so he did," said Pat; and so, when morning came, the mystery was further
investigated and was easily solved. Elk tracks were found in the vicinity and it was undoubtedly a
herd of elks that had frightened Pat; as he had turned to run, he had gone under a limb of a tree,
against which he hit his head, and supposed he had been struck by a club in the hands of an Indian.
It was hard to convince Pat however, of the truth.

A three days' uninteresting march brought us to Beaver creek where we camped and from which
point scouting parties were sent out in different directions. Neither of these, however, discovering
Indians they all returned to camp about the same time, finding it in a state of great excitement, it
having been attacked a few hours previous by a party of Indians, who had succeeded in killing two
men and in making off with sixty horses belonging to Co. H.

That evening the command started on the trail of these Indian horse-thieves; Major Brown with two
companies and three days rations pushing ahead in advance of the main command. Being
unsuccessful, however, in overtaking the Indians, and getting nearly out of provisions &emdash;it
being our eighteenth day out &emdash;the entire command marched towards the nearest railroad
point, and camped on the Saline river, distant three miles from Buffalo Tank. While waiting for
supplies we received a new commanding Officer, Brevet Major-General E. A. Carr, who was the
senior major of the regiment, and who ranked Colonel Royal. He brought with him the now
celebrated Forsyth scouts, who were commanded by Lieutenant Pepoon, a regular-army officer.

It was also while waiting in this camp that Major Brown received a new lieutenant to fill a vacancy in
his company. On the day that this officer was to arrive, Major Brown had his private ambulance
brought out, and invited me to accompany him to the railroad station to meet his lieutenant, whose
name was A. B. Bache. He proved to be a fine gentleman, and a brave, dashing officer. On the way
to the depot Major Brown had said, "Now, Cody, when we come back we'll give Bache a lively ride
and shake him up a little."

 

A LIVELY SHAKING UP
Major Brown was a jolly good fellow, but sometimes he would get "a little off," and as this was one
of his "off days" he was bound to amuse himself in some original and mischievous way. Reaching
the depot just as the train came in, we easily found the Lieutenant, and giving him the back seat in the
ambulance we were soon headed for camp.

Pretty soon Major Brown took the reins from his driver, and at once began whipping the mules.
After getting them into a lively gallop he pulled out his revolver and fired several shots. The road was
terribly rough and the night was so dark that we could hardly see where we were going. It was a
wonderful piece of luck that we were not tipped over and our necks broken. Finally Bache said,
good-humoredly:

"Is this the way you break in all your Lieutenants, Major?"

"Oh, no; I don't do this as a regular thing, but it's the way we frequently ride in this country," said
the Major; "just keep your seat, Mr. Bache, and we'll take you through on time." The Major
appropriated the reply of the old California stage driver, Hank Monk, to Horace Greely.

We were now rattling down a steep hill at full speed, and just as we reached the bottom, the front
wheels struck a deep ditch over which the mules had jumped. We were all brought up standing by
the sudden stoppage of the ambulance. Major Brown and myself were nearly pitched out on the
wheels, while the Lieutenant came flying headlong from the back seat to the front of the vehicle.

"Take a back seat, Lieutenant," coolly said Major Brown.

"Major, I have just left that seat," said Bache.

We soon lifted the wagon out of the ditch, and then resumed our drive, running into camp under full
headway, and creating considerable amusement. Everyone recognized the ambulance and knew at
once that Major Brown and I were out on a "lark," and therefore there was not much said about our
exploit. Halting with a grand flourish in front of his tent, Major Brown jumped out in his most gallant
style and politely asked his lieutenant in. A very pleasant evening was spent there, quite a number of
the officers calling to make the acquaintance of the new officer, who entertained the visitors with an
amusing account of the ride from the depot.

Next morning at an early hour, the command started out on a hunt for Indians. General Carr having a
pretty good idea where he would be most likely to find them, directed me to guide him by the nearest
route to Elephant Rock on Beaver creek.

 

IN SEARCH OF INDIANS
Upon arriving at the south fork of the Beaver on the second day's march, we discovered a large,
fresh Indian trail which we hurriedly followed for a distance of eight miles, when suddenly we saw on
the bluffs ahead of us, quite a large number of Indians.

General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon's scouts and Company M to the front. This company was
commanded by Lieutenant Schinosky, a Frenchman by birth and a reckless daredevil by nature, who
was anxious to have a hair-lifting match. Having advanced his company nearly a mile ahead of the
main command, about four hundred Indians suddenly charged down upon him and gave him a lively
little fight, until he was supported by our full force.

The Indians kept increasing in numbers all the while until it was estimated that we were fighting from
eight hundred to one thousand of them. The engagement became quite general, and several were
killed and wounded on each side. The Indians were evidently fighting to give their families and village
a chance to get away. We had undoubtedly surprised them with a larger force than they had
expected to see in that part of the country. We fought them until dark, all the time driving them
before us. At night they annoyed us considerably by firing down into our camp from the higher hills,
and several times the command was ordered out to dislodge them from their position and drive them
back.

After having returned from one of these little sallies, Major Brown, Captain Sweetman, Lieutenant
Bache and myself were taking supper together, when "whang!" came a bullet into Lieutenant Bache's
plate, breaking a hole through it. The bullet came from the gun of one of the Indians, who had
returned to the high bluff overlooking our camp. Major Brown declared it was a crack shot, because
it broke the plate. We finished our supper without having any more such close calls.

At daylight next morning we struck out on the trail, and soon came to the spot where the Indians had
camped the day before. We could see that their village was a very large one, consisting of about five
hundred lodges; and we pushed forward rapidly from this point on the trail which ran back toward
Prairie Dog creek.

About two o'clock we came in sight of the retreating village, and soon the warriors turned back to
give us battle. They set fire to the prairie grass in front of us, and on all sides, in order to delay us as
much as possible. We kept up a running fight for the remainder of the afternoon, and the Indians
repeatedly attempted to lead us off the track of their flying village, but their trail was easily followed,
as they were continually dropping tepee poles, camp kettles, robes, furs and all heavy articles
belonging to them. They were evidently scattering, and it finally became difficult for us to keep on
the main trail. When darkness set in, we went into camp, it being useless to try to follow the Indians
after nightfall.

Next morning we were again on the trail, which led north and back towards Beaver creek, which
stream it crossed within a few miles of the spot where we had first discovered the Indians, they
having made nearly a complete circle, in hopes of misleading us. Late in the afternoon, we again saw
them going over a hill far ahead of us, and towards evening the main body of warriors came back
and fought us once more; but we continued to drive them until darkness set in, when we camped for
the night.

The Indians soon scattered in every direction, but we followed the main trail to the Republican river,
where we made a cut-off, and then went north towards the Platte river. We found, however, that the
Indians by traveling night and day had got a long start, and the General concluded that it was useless
to follow them any further, as we had pushed them so hard, and given them such a scare that they
would leave the Repubiiean country and go north across the Union Pacific railroad. Most of the
Indians, as he had predicted, did cross the Platte river, near Ogalalla, on the Union Pacific, and
thence continued northward.

That night we returned to the Republican river and camped in a grove of cottonwoods, which I
named Carr's Grove, in honor of the commanding officer.

 

OUT IN A DRY COUNTRY
The General told me that the next day's march would be towards the head-waters of the Beaver, and
he asked me the distance. I replied that it was about twenty-five miles, and he said he would make it
the next day. Getting an early start in the morning, we struck out across the prairie, my position as
guide being ahead of the advance guard. About two o'clock General Carr overtook me, and asked
how far I supposed it was to water. I thought it was about eight miles, although we could see no sign
or indication of any stream in our front.

"Pepoon's scouts say you are going in the wrong direction," said the General, "and in the way you
are bearing it will be fifteen miles before you can strike any of the branches of the Beaver; and that
when you do, you will find no water, for the Beavers are dry at this time of the year at that point."

"General, I think the scouts are mistaken," said I, "for the Beaver has more water near its head than it
has below; and at the place where we will strike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, large
enough and strong enough to cross the whole command, if you wish."

"Well, Cody, go ahead," said he, "I'll leave it to you, but remember that I don' t want a dry camp."

"No danger of that," said I, and then I rode on, leaving him to return to the command. As I had
predicted, we found water seven or eight miles further on, where we came upon a beautiful little
stream &emdash;a tributary of the Beaver &emdash;hidden in the hills. We had no difficulty in
selecting a good halting place, and obtaining fresh spring water and excellent grass. The General,
upon learning from me that the stream &emdash;which was only eight or nine miles long
&emdash;had no name, took out his map and located t and named it Cody's creek, which name it
still bears.

 

SURPRISED BY INDIANS
We pulled out early next morning for the Beaver, and when we were approaching the stream I rode
on ahead of the advance guard, in order to find a crossing. Just as I turned a bend of the creek
"bang!" went a shot, and down went my horse &emdash;myself with him. I disentangled myself, and
jumped behind the dead body. Looking in the direction whence the shot had come I saw two
Indians, and at once turned my gun loose on them, but in the excitement of the moment I missed my
aim. They fired two or three more shots, and I returned the compliment, wounding one of their
horses.

On the opposite side of the creek, going over the hill, I observed a few lodges moving rapidly away,
and also some mounted warriors, who could see me, and who kept blazing away with their guns.
The two Indians who had fired at me and had killed my horse were retreating across the creek on a
beaver-dam. I sent a few shots after them to accelerate their speed, and also fired at the ones on the
other side of the stream. I was undecided as to whether it was best to run back to the command on
foot or hold my position. I knew that within a few minutes the troops would come up, and I
therefore decided to hold my position. The Indians, seeing that I was alone, turned and charged
down the hill, and were about to re-cross the creek to corral me, when the advance guard of the
command put in an appearance on the ridge, and dashed forward to my rescue. The red-skins
whirled and made off.

When General Carr came up, he ordered Company I to go in pursuit of the band. I accompanied
Lieutenant Brady, who commanded, and we had a running fight with the Indians, lasting several
hours. We captured several head of their horses and most of their lodges. At night we returned to the
command, which by this time had crossed the creek on the beaver-dam.

We scouted for several days along the river, and had two or three lively skirmishes. Finally our
supplies began to run low, and General Carr gave orders to return to Fort Wallace, which we
reached three days afterwards, and where we remained several days . While the regiment was waiting
here for orders, I spent most of the time in hunting buffaloes, and one day, while I was out with a
small party, we were "jumped" by about fifty Indians. We had a severe fight for at least an hour,
when we succeeded in driving the enemy. They lost four of their warriors, and probably concluded
that we were a hard crowd. I had some excellent marksmen with me, and they did some fine work,
sending the bullets thick and fast where they would do the most good. Two or three of our horses
had been hit, and one man had been wounded; we were ready and willing to stay with the red-skins
as long as they wished &emdash;but they finally gave it up, however, as a bad job, and rode off. We
finished our hunt, and went back to the post loaded down with buffalo meat, and received the
compliment of the General for our little fight.


CHAPTER XII
A HARD WINTER'S CAMPAIGN
Very soon after our fight on Beaver creek Gen. Carr received orders from Gen. Sheridan for a
winter's campaign in the Canadian river country, instructing him to proceed at once to Fort Lyon,
Colorado, and there to fit out for the expedition: Leaving Fort Wallace in November, 1868, we
arrived at Fort Lyon in the latter part of the month without special incident, and at once began our
preparations for invading the enemy's country.

General Penrose had left this post three weeks previously with a command of some three hundred
men. He had taken no wagons with him and his supply train was composed only of pack mules.
General Carr was ordered to follow with supplies on his trail and overtake him as soon as possible. I
was particularly anxious to catch up with Penrose's command, as my old friend, Wild Bill, was
among his scouts. We followed the trail very easily for the first three days, and then we were caught
in Freeze-Out canyon by a fearful snow storm, which compelled us to go into camp for a day. The
ground now being covered with snow, we found that it would be impossible to follow Penrose's trail
any further, especially as he had left no sign to indicate the direction he was going. General Carr sent
for me and said that as it was very important that we should not lose the trail, he wished that I would
take some scouts with me, and while the command remained in camp, push on as far as possible and
see if I could not discover come traces of Penrose or where he had camped at any time.

Accompanied by four men I started out in the blinding snow storm, taking a southerly direction. We
rode twenty-four miles, and upon reaching a tributary of the Cimarron, we scouted up and down the
stream for a few miles and finally found one of Penrose's old camps. It was now late in the
afternoon, and as the command would come up the next day, it was not necessary for all of us to
return with the information to General Carr. So riding down into a sheltered place in a bend of the
creek, we built a fire and broiled some venison from a deer which we had shot during the day, and
after eating a substantial meal I left the four men there, while I returned to bring up the troops.

It was eleven o'clock at night when I got back to the camp. A light was still burning in the General's
tent, he having remained awake, anxiously awaiting my return. He was glad to see me, and was
overjoyed at the information I brought, for he he had great fears concerning the safety of General
Penrose. He roused up his cook and ordered him to get me a good hot supper, all of which I greatly
appreciated. I passed the night in the General's tent, and next morning rose refreshed and prepared
for a big day's work.

 

A ROUGH MARCH
The command took up its march next day for the Cimarron, and had a hard tramp of it on account
of the snow having drifted to a great depth in many of the ravines, and in some places the teamsters
had to shovel their way through. We arrived at the Cimarron at sundown, and went into a nice warm
camp. Upon looking around next morning, we found that Penrose, having been unencumbered by
wagons, had kept on the west side of the Cimarron, and the country was so rough that it was
impossible for us to stay on his trail with our wagons; but knowing that he would certainly follow
down the river, General Carr concluded to take the best wagon route along the stream, which I
discovered to be on the east side. Before we could make any headway with our wagon train we had
to leave the river and get out on the divide. We were very fortunate that day in finding a splendid
road for some distance, until we were all at once brought up standing on a high table-land,
overlooking a beautiful winding creek that lay far below us in the valley. The question that troubled
us was how we were to get the wagons down. We were now in the foot-hills of the Rattoon
mountains, and the bluff we were on was very steep.

"Cody, we're in a nice fix now," said General Carr.

"Oh, that's nothing," was my reply.

"But you can never take the train down," said he.

"Never you mind the train, General. You say you are looking for a good camp. How does that
beautiful spot down in the valley suit you?" I asked him.

"That will do. I can easily descend with the cavalry, but how to get the wagons down there is a
puzzler to me," said he.

"By the time you've located your camp, your wagons shall be there," said I.

"All right, Cody, I'll leave it to you, as you seem to want to be boss," he replied pleasantly. He at
once ordered the command to dismount and lead the horses down the mountain-side. The wagon
train was a mile in the rear, and when it came up, one of the drivers asked: "How are we going down
there?"

"Run down, slide down or fall down &emdash;any way to get down," said I.

"We never can do it; it's too steep; the wagons will run over the mules," said another wagon-master.

"I guess not; the mules have got to keep out of the way," was my reply.

"I told Wilson, the chief wagon-master, to bring on his mess-wagon, which was at the head of the
train, and I would try the experiment at least. Wilson drove the team and wagon to the brink of the
hill, and following my directions he brought out some extra chains with which we locked both wheels
on each side, and then rough-locked them. We now started the wagon down the hill. The
wheel-horses &emdash;or rather the wheel-mules &emdash;were good on the hold-back, and we got
along finely until we nearly reached the bottom, when the wagon crowded the mules so hard that they
started on a run and galloped down into the valley and to the place where General Carr had located
his camp. Three other wagons immediately followed in the same way, and in half an hour every
wagon was in camp, without the least accident having occurred It was indeed an exciting sight to see
the six-mule teams come straight down the mountain and finally break into a full run. At times it
looked as if the wagons would turn a somersault and land on the mules.

This proved to be a lucky march for us, as far as gaining on Penrose was concerned, for the route
he had taken on the west side of the stream turned out to be a bad one, and we went with our
immense wagon-train as far in one day as Penrose had in seven. His command had

marched on to a plateau or high table-land so steep that not even a pack-mule could descend it, and
he was obliged to retrace his steps a long ways, thus losing three days' time, as we afterwards
learned. 

 

A TURKEY HUNT WITH CLUBS
While in this camp we had a lively turkey hunt. The trees along the banks of the stream were literally
alive with wild turkeys, and after unsaddling the horses between two and three hundred soldiers
surrounded a grove of timber and had a grand turkey round-up, killing four or five hundred of the
birds, with guns, clubs and stones. Of course, we had turkey in every style after this hunt
&emdash;roast turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, "turkey on toast," and so on; and we
appropriately called this place Camp Turkey.

From this point on, for several days, we had no trouble in following Penrose's trail, which led us in a
southeasterly direction towards the Canadian river. No Indians were seen nor any signs of them
found. One day, while riding in advance of the command, down San Francisco creek, I heard some
one calling my name from a little bunch of willow brush on the opposite bank, and, upon looking
closely at the spot, I saw a negro.

"Sakes alive! Massa Bill, am dat you?" askedthe man, whom I recognised as one of the colored
soldiers of the Tenth cavalry. I next heard him say to some one in the brush: "Come out o' heah.
Dar's Massa Buffalo Bill." Then he sang out: "Massa Bill, is you got any hawd tack?"

"Nary a hard tack; but the wagons will be along presently and then you can get all you want," said I.

"Dat's de best news I'se heerd foah sixteen long days, Massa Bill," said he.

"Where's your command? Where's General Penrose?" I asked.

"I dunno," said the darkey; "we got lost and we's been a starvin' eber since."

By this time two other negroes had emerged from their plaee of concealment. They had deserted
Penrose's command &emdash;which was out of rations and nearly in a starving condition
&emdash;and were trying to make their way back to Fort Lyon. General Carr concluded, from what
they could tell him, that General Penrose was somewhere on Palladora creek; but we could not learn
anything definite from the starved "mokes," for they knew not where they were themselves.

 

RESCUE OF A STARVING COMMAND
Having learned that General Penrose's troops were in such bad shape, General Carr ordered Major
Brown to start out the next morning with two companies of cavalry and fifty pack-mules loaded with
provisions, and to make all possible speed to reach and relieve the suffering soldiers. I accompanied
this detachment, and on the third day out we found the half-famished soldiers camped on the
Palladora. The camp presented a pitiful sight, indeed. For over two weeks the men had had only
quarter rations and were now nearly starved to death. Over two hundred horses and mules were lying
dead, having died from fatigue and starvation. General Penrose, fearing that General Carr would not
find him, had sent back a company of the Seventh Cavalry to Fort Lyon for supplies; but no word
as yet had been heard from them. The rations which Major Brown brought to the command came
none too soon and were the means of saving many lives.

About the first man I saw after reaching the camp was my old, true and tried friend, Wild Bill. That
night we had a jolly reunion around the camp-fires.

General Carr, upon arriving with his force, took command of all the troops, he being the senior
officer and ranking General Penrose. After selecting a good camp, he unloaded the wagons and sent
them back to Fort Lyon for fresh supplies. He then picked out five hundred of the best men and
horses, and, taking his pack-train with him, he started south for the Canadian river, distant about
forty miles, leaving the rest of the troops at the supply camp.

 

SUCCESSFUL RAID ON A BEER TRAIN
I was ordered to accompany this expedition. We struck the south fork of the Canadian river, or Rio
Colorado, at a point a few miles above the old adobe walls, which at one time had composed a fort,
and was the place where Kit Carson once had a big Indian fight. We were now within twelve miles of
a new supply depot, called Camp Evans, which had been established for the Third Cavalry and
Evans' Expedition from New Mexico. The scouts who had brought in this information also reported
that they expected the arrival at Camp Evans of a bull-train from New Mexico with a large quantity of
beer for the soldiers This news was grateful to Wild Bill and myself, and we determined to lie low for
that beer outfit. That very evening it came along, and the beer that was destined for the soldiers at
Camp Evans never reached its destination. It went straight down the thirsty throats of General Carr's
command. It appears that the Mexicans living near Fort Union had manufactured the beer, and were
taking it through to Camp Evans to sell to the troops, but it struck a lively market without going so
far. It was sold to our boys in pint cups, and as the weather was very cold we warmed the beer by
putting the ends of our picket-pins heated red hot into the cups. The result was one of the biggest
beer jollifications I ever had the misfortune to attend.

One evening General Carr summoned me to his tent, and said he wished to send some scouts with
dispatches to Camp Supply, which were to be forwarded from there to Sheridan. He ordered me to
call the scouts together at once at his headquarters, and select the men who were to go. I asked him
if I should not go myself, but he replied that he wished me to remain with the command, as he could
not spare me. The distance to Camp Supply was about two hundred miles, and owing to the very
cold weather it was anything but a pleasant trip. Consequently none of the scouts were anxious to
undertake it. It was finally settled, however, that Wild Bill, a half-breed called Little Geary, and three
other scouts should carry the dispatches, and they accordingly took their departure next day, with
instructions to return to the command as soon as possible.

For several days we scouted along the Canadian river, but found no signs of Indians. General Carr
then went back to his camp, and soon afterwards our wagon train came in from Fort Lyon with a
fresh load of provisions. Our animals being in poor condition, we remained in different camps along
San Francisco Creek and the north fork of the Canadian until Wild Bill and his scouts returned from
Camp Supply. 

 

A FREE FlGHT AMONG THE SCOUTS
Among the scouts of Penrose's command were fifteen Mexicans, and between them and the
American scouts there had existed a feud; when General Carr took command of the expeditions
&emdash;uniting it with his own &emdash;and I was made chief of all the scouts, this feud grew
more intense, and the Mexicans often threatened to clean us out; but they postponed the undertaking
from time to time, until one day, while we were all at the cutlery store, the long-expected fight took
place, and resulted in the Mexicans getting severely beaten.

General Carr upon hearing of the row, sent for Wild Bill and myself, he having concluded, from the
various statements which had been made to him, that we were the instigators of the affair. But after
listening to what we had to say, he thought that the Mexicans were as much to blame as we were.

It is not to be denied that Wild Bill and myself had been partaking too freely of "tangle-foot" that
evening; and General Carr said to me: "Cody, there are plenty of antelopes in the country, and you
can do some hunting for the camp while we stay here."

"All right, General, I'll do it."

After that I put in my time hunting, and with splendid success, killing from fifteen to twenty antelopes
a day, which kept the men well supplied with fresh meat.

At length, our horses and mules having become sufficiently recruited to travel, we returned to Fort
Lyon, arriving there in March, 1869, where the command was to rest and recruit for thirty days,
before proceeding to the Department of the Platte, whither it had been ordered.


CHAPTER XIII
I AM ACCUSED OF SELLING GOVERNMENT PROPERTY
Upon my return to Fort Lyon General Carr granted me a leave of absence of one month which I
improved by paying a visit to my family which was at this time in St. Louis. The nearest railroad
station to Fort Lyon was Sheridan, fully one hundred and forty miles distant, and as I had no
conveyance of my own, General Carr instructed Captain Hays, our quartermaster, to give me the use
of a horse to make the necessary journey. When I received the horse it was with instructions to leave
the animal in the quartermaster's corral at Fort Wallace until my return, but instead of so doing I
placed the horse in the care of an old friend named Perry, who was a hotel-keeper in Sheridan.

After a twenty days' absence in St. Louis, pleasantly spent with my family, I returned to Sheridan,
and there learned that my horse had been seized by the government. It seems that the quartermaster's
agent at Sheridan had reported to General Bankhead, commanding Fort Wallace, and to Captain
Laufer, the quartermaster, that I had left the country and had sold a government horse and mule to
Mr. Perry, and of course Captain Laufer took possession of the animals and threatened to have
Perry arrested for buying government property. Perry explained to him the facts in the case and said
that I would return in a few days; but the Captain would pay no attention to his statements.

I immediately went over to the office of the quartermaster's agent, and had Perry point him out to
me. I at once laid hold of him, and in a short time had treated him to just such a thrashing as his
contemptible lie deserved. He then mounted a horse, rode to Fort Wallace, and reported me to
General Bankhead and Captain Laufer, and obtained a guard to return with and protect him.

The next morning I secured a horse from Perry, and proceecling to Fort Wallace demanded my
horse and mule from General Bankhead, on the ground that they were Quartermaster Hays' property
and belonged to General Carr's command and that I had obtained permission to ride them to
Sheridan and back. General Bankhead in a gruff manner ordered me out of his office and off the
reservation, saying that if I didn't take hurried departure he would have me forcibly put out. I told
him to do it and be hanged; I might have used a stronger expression, and upon second thought, I
believe I did. I next interviewed Captain Laufer and demanded of him also the horse and mule, as I
was responsible for them to Quartermaster Hays. Captain Laufer intimated that I was a liar and that I
had disposed of the animals. Hot words ensued between us, and he too ordered me to leave the
post. I replied that General Bankhead had commanded me to do the same thing, but that I had not
yet gone; and that I did not propose to obey any orders of an inferior officer.

Seeing that it was of no use to make any further effort to get possession of the animals I rode back
to Sheridan, and just as I reached there I met the quartermaster's agent coming out from supper, with
his head tied up. It occurred to me that he had not received more than one-half of the punishment
justly due him, and that now would be a good time to give him the balance &emdash;so I carried the
idea into immediate execution. After finishing the job in good style, I informed him that he could not
stay in that town while I remained there, and convinced him that Sheridan was not large enough to
hold us both at the same time; he accordingly left the place and again went to Fort Wallace, this time
reporting to General Bankhead that I had driven him away, and had threatened to kill him.

 

ARRESTED AND THROWN INTO THE GUARD-HOUSE
That night while sleeping at the Perry House, I was awakened by a tap on the shoulder and upon
looking up I was considerably surprised to see the room filled with armed negroes who had their
guns all pointed at me. The first words I heard came from the sergeant, who said:&emdash;

"Now look a-heah, Massa Bill, ef you make a move we'll blow you off de farm, shuah!" Just then
Captain Ezekiel entered and ordered the soldiers to stand back.

"Captain, what does this mean?" I asked.

"I am sorry, Bill, but I have been ordered by General Bankhead to arrest you and bring you to Fort
Vlrallace," said he.

"That's all right," said I, "but you could have made the arrest alone, without having brought the
whole Thirty-eighth Infantry with you."

"I know that, Bill," replied the Captain, "but as you've not been in very good humor for the last day
or two, I didn't know how you would act."

I hastily dressed, and accompanied Captain Ezekiel to Fort Wallace, arriving there at two o'clock in
the morning.

"Bill, I am really sorry," said Captain Ezekiel, as we alighted, "but I have orders to place you in the
guard-house, and I must perform my duty."

"Very well, Captain; I don't blame you a bit," said I; and into the guard-house I went as a prisoner
for the first and only time in my life. The sergeant of the guard &emdash;who was an old friend of
mine, belongng to Captain Graham's company, which was stationed there at the time &emdash;did
not put me into a cell, but kindly allowed me to stay in his room and occupy his bed, and in a few
minutes I was snoring away as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Shortly after reveille Captain Graham called to see me. He thought it was a shame for me to be in the
guard-house, and said that he would interview General Bankhead in my behalf as soon as he got up.
The Captain had a nice breakfast prepared for me, and then departed. At guard-mount I was not sent
for, con trary to my expectations, and thereupon I had word conveyed to Captain Graham, who was
officer of the day, that I wanted to see General Bankhead. The Captain informed me that the General
absolutely refused to hold any conversation whatever with me.

At this time there was no telegraph line between Fort Wallace and Fort Lyon, and therefore it was
impossible for me to telegraph to General Carr, and I determined to send a dispatch direct to
General Sheridan. I accordingly wrote out a long telegram informing him of my difficulty, and had it
taken to the telegraph office for transmission; but the operator, instead of sending it at once as he
should have done, showed it to General Bankhead, who tore it up, and instructed the operator not to
pay any attention to what I might say, as he was running that post. Thinking it very strange that I
received no answer during the day I went to the telegraph office, accompanied by a guard, and
learned from the operator what he had done.

 

A DISPUTE OVER A TELEGRAM.
"See here, my young friend," said I, "this is a public telegraph line, and I want my telegram sent, or
there'll be trouble."

I rewrote my dispatch and handed it to him, accompanied with the money to pay for the
transmission, saying, as I did so: "Young man, I wish that telegram sent direct to Chicago. You
know it is your duty to send it, and it must go."

He knew very well that he was compelled to transmit the message, but before doing so he called on
General Bankhead and informed him of what I had said, and told him that he would certainly have to
send it, for if he didn't he might lose his position. The General, seeing that the telegram would have
to go, summoned me to his headquarters, and the first thing he said, after I got into his presence
was:&emdash;

"If I let you go, sir, will you leave the post at once and not bother my agent at Sheridan again?"

"No, sir;" I replied, "I'll do nothing of the kind. I'll remain in the guard-house until I receive an
answer from General Sheridan." 

"If I give you the horse and mule will you proceed at once to Fort Lyon?"

"No, sir; I have some bills to settle at Sheridan and some other business to transact," replied I.

"Well, sir; will you at least agree not to interfere any further with the quartermaster's agent at
Sheridan?"

"I shall not bother him any more, sir, as I have had all I want from him," was my answer.

General Bankhead thereupon sent for Captain Laufer and ordered him to turn the horse and mule
over to me. In a few minutes more I was on my way to Sheridan, and after settling my business
there, I proceeded to Fort Lyon, arriving two days afterwards. I related my adventures to general
Carr, Major Brown, and other officers, who were greatly amused thereby.

 

IN PURSUIT OF HORSE THIEVES
"I'm glad you've come, Bill," said General Carr, "as I have been wanting you for the last two weeks.
While we have been at this post several valuable animals, as well as a large number of government
horses and mules have been stolen, and we think the thieves are still in the vicinity of the fort, but as
yet we have been unable to discover their rendezvous. I have had a party out for the last few days in
the neighborhood of old Fort Lyon, and they have found fresh tracks down there and seem to think
that the stock is concealed somewhere in the timber, along the Arkansas river. Bill Green, one of the
scouts who is just up from there, can perhaps tell you something more about the matter."

Green, who had been summoned, said that he had discovered fresh trails before striking the heavy
timber opposite old Fort Lyon, but that in the tall grass he could not follow them. He had marked the
place where he had last seen fresh mule tracks, so that he could find it again.

"Now, Cody, you're just the person we want," said the General. 

"Very well, I'll get a fresh mount, and tomorrow I'll go down and see what I can discover," said I.

"You had better take two men besides Green, and a pack mule with eight or ten days' rations,"
suggested the General, "so that if you find the trail you can follow it up, as I am very anxious to get
back this stolen property. The scoundrels have taken one of my private horses and also Lieutenant
Forbush's favorite little black race mule."

Next morning I started out after the horse-thieves, being accompanied by Green, Jack Farley and
another scout. The mule track, marked by Green, was easily found, and with very little difficulty I
followed it for about two miles into the timber and came upon a place where, as I could plainly see
from numerous signs, quite a number of head of stock had been tied among the trees and kept for
several days. This was evidently the spot where the thieves had been hiding their stolen stock until
they had accumulated quite a herd. From this point it was difficult to trail them, as they had taken the
stolen animals out of the timber one by one and in different directions, thus showing that they were
experts at the business and experienced frontiersmen, for no Indian could have exhibited more
cunning in covering up a trail than did they.

I abandoned the idea of following their trail in this immediate locality, so calling my men together, I
told them that we would ride out for about five miles and make a complete circuit about the place,
and in this way we would certainly find the trail on which they had moved out. While making the
circuit we discovered the tracks of twelve animals &emdash;four mules and eight horses
&emdash;in the edge of some sand-hills, and from this point we had no trouble in trailing them down
the Arkansas river, which they had crossed at Sand creek, and then had gone up the latter stream, in
the direction of Denver, to which place they were undoubtedly bound. When nearing Denver their
trail became so obscure that we at last lost it; but by inquiring of the settlers along the road which
they had taken, we occasionally heard of them.

 

THE THIEVES RUN DOWN
When within four miles of Denver &emdash;this was on a Thursday &emdash;we learned that the
horse-thieves had passed there two days before. I came to the conclusion they would attempt to
dispose of the animals at Denver, and being aware that Saturday was the great auction day there, I
thought it best to remain where we were, at a hotel, and not go into the city until that day. It certainly
would not have been advisable for me to have gone into Denver meantime, because I was well
known there, and if the thieves had learned of my presence in the city they would at once have
suspected my business. 

Early Saturday morning we rode into town and stabled our horses at the Elephant corral. I secured a
room from Ed. Chase, overlooking the corral, and then took up my post of observation. I did not
have long to wait, for a man whom I readily recognized as one of our old packers, rode into the
corral mounted upon Lieutenant Forbush's racing mule, and leading another government mule, which
I also identified. It had been recently branded, and over the "U. S." was a plain "D. B." I waited for
the man's companion to put in an appearance, but he did not come, and my conclusion was that he
was secreted outside of the city with the rest of the animals.

Presently the black mule belonging to Forbush was put up at auction. Now, thought I, is the time to
do my work. So, walking through the crowd, who were bidding for the mule, I approached the man
who had offered him for sale. He recognised me and endeavored to escape, but I seized him by the
shoulder, saying: "I guess, my friend, that you'll have to go with me. If you make any resistance, I'll
shoot you on the spot." He was armed with a pair of pistols, which I took away from him. Then
informing the auctioneer that I was a United States detective, and showing him &emdash;as well as
an inquisitive officer &emdash;my commission as such, I told him to stop the sale, as the mule was
stolen property, and that I had arrested the thief, whose name was Williams.

Farley and Green, who were near at hand, now came forward, and together we took the prisoner and
the mules three miles down the Platte river; there, in a thick bunch of timber, we all dismounted and
made preparations to hang Williams from a limb, if he did not tell us where his partner was. At first
he denied knowing anything about any partner, or any other stock; but when he saw that we were in
earnest, and would hang him at the end of the given time &emdash;five minutes &emdash;unless he
"squealed," he told us that his "pal" was at an unoccupied house three miles further down the river.

We immediately proceeded to the spot indicated, and as we came within sight of the house we saw
our stock grazing near by. Just as we rode up to the door, another one of our old packers, whom l
recognised as Bill Bevins, stepped to the front and I covered him instantly with my rifle before he
could draw his revolver. I ordered him to throw up his hands, and he obeyed the command. Green
then disarmed him and brought him out. We looked through the house and found their saddles,
pack-saddles, blankets, overcoats, lariats and two Henry rifles, which we took possession of. The
horses and mules we tied in a bunch, and with the whole outfit we returned to Denver, where we
lodged Williams and Bevins in jail, in charge of my friend, Sheriff Edward Cook. The next day we
took them out, and tying each one on a mule we struck out on our return trip to Fort Lyon.

 

ESCAPE OF BEVINS
At the hotel outside the city, where we had stopped on Thursday and Friday, we were joined by our
man with the pack-mule. That night we camped on Cherry creek, seventeen miles from Denver. The
weather &emdash;it being in April &emdash;was cold and stormy, but we found a warm and cosy
camping place in a bend of the creek. We made our beds in a row, with our feet towards the fire.
The prisoners so far had appeared very docile, and had made no attempt to escape, and therefore I
did not think it necessary to hobble them. We made them sleep on the inside, and it was so arranged
that some one of us should be on guard all the time.

At about one o'clock in the night it began snowing, while I was watching. Shortly before three
o'clock, Jack Farley, who was then on guard, and sitting on the foot of the bed, with his back to the
prisoners, was kicked clear into the fire by Williams, and the next moment Bevins, who had got hold
of his shoes &emdash;which I had thought were out of his reach &emdash;sprang up and jumped
over the fire, and started on a run. I sent a shot after him as soon as I awoke sufficiently to
comprehend what was taking place. Williams attempted to follow him, and as he did so I whirled
around an knocked him down with my revolver. Farley by this time had gathered himself out of the
fire, and Green had started after Bevins, firing at him on the run; but the prisoner made his escape
into the brush. In his flight, unfortunately for him, and luckily for us, he dropped one of his shoes.

Leaving Williams in the charge of Farley and "Long Doc," as we called the man with the pack-mule,
Green and myself struck out after Bevins as fast as possible. We heard him breaking through the
brush, but knowing that it would be useless to follow him on foot, we went back to the camp and
saddled up two of the fastest horses, and at daylight we struck out on his trail, which was plainly
visible in the anow. He had got an hour and a half the start of us. His tracks led us in the direction of
the mountains and the South Platte river, and, as the country through which he was passing was
covered with prickly pears, we knew that he could not escape stepping on them with his one bare
foot, and hence we were likely to overtake him in a short time. We could see, however, from the long
jumps that he was taking that he was making excellent time, but we frequently noticed, after we had
gone some distance, that the prickly pears and stones along his route were cutting his bare foot, as
nearly every track of it was spotted with blood.

 

AN EXTRAORDINARY RUN FOR LIBERTY
We had run our horses some twelve miles when we saw Bevins crossing a ridge about two miles
ahead. Urging our horses up to their utmost speed, we reached the ridge just as he was descending
the divide towards the South Platte, which stream was very deep and swift at this point. It became
evident that if he should cross it ahead of us, he would have a good chance of making his escape.
So pushing our steeds as fast as possible, we rapidly gained on him and when within a hundred
yards of him I cried to him to halt or I would shoot. Knowing I was a good shot, he stopped, and
coolly sitting down waited till we came up.

"Bevins, you've given us a good run," said I.

"Yes." said he. "and if I had had fifteen minutes more of a start, and got across the Platte, I would
have laughed at the idea of your ever catching me."

Bevins' run was the most remarkable feat of the kind ever known, either of a white man, or an Indian.
A man who could run bare-footed in the snow eighteen miles through a prickly pear patch, was
certainly a "tough one," and that's the kind of a person Bill Bevins was. Upon looking at his bleeding
foot I really felt sorry for him. He asked me for my knife, and I gave him my sharp-pointed bowie,
with which he dug the prickly pear briars out of his foot. I considered him as "game" a man as I had
ever met.

"Bevins, I have got to take you back," said I, "but as you can't walk with that foot, you can ride my
horse and I'll foot it."

We accordingly started back for our camp, with Bevins on my horse, which was led either by Green
or myself, as we alternately rode the other horse. We kept a close watch on Bevins, for we had
ample proof that he needed watching. His wounded foot must have pained him terribly but not a
word of complaint escaped him. On arriving at the camp we found Williams bound as we had left
him and he seemed sorry that we had captured Bevins.

 

A SUCCESSFUL BREAK IN THE DARK
After breakfasting we resumed our journey, and nothing worthy of note again occurred until we
reached the Arkansas river, where we found a vacant cabin and at once took possession of it for the
night. There was no likelihood of Bevins again trying to escape, for his foot had swollen to an
enormous size and was useless. Believing that Williams could not escape from the cabin, we
unbound him. We then went to sleep, leaving Long Doc on guard, the cabin being comfortably
warmed and well lighted by the fire. It was a dark, stormy night &emdash;so dark that you could
hardly see your hand before you. At about ten o'clock Williams asked Long Doc to allow him to
step to the door for a moment.

Long Doc, who had his revolver in his hand, did not think it necessary to wake us up, and believing
that he could take care of the prisoners he granted his request. Williams thereupon walked to the
outer edge of the door, while Long Doc, revolver in hand, was watching him from the inside.
Suddenly Williams made a spring to the right, and before Doc could even raise his revolver, he had
dodged around the house. Doc jumped after him, and fired just as he turned a corner, the report
bringing us all to our feet, and in an instant we knew what had happened. I at once covered Bevins
with my revolver, but as I saw that he could hardly stir, and was making no demonstrations I
lowered the weapon. Just then Doc came in swearing "a blue streak," and announced that Williams
had escaped. There was nothing for us to do except to gather our horses close to the cabin and
stand guard over them for the rest of the night, to prevent the possibility of Williams sneaking up and
stealing one of them. That was the last I ever saw or heard of Williams.

 

BREAKING UP OF THE GANG
We finally got back to Fort Lyon with Bevins, and General Carr, to whom I immediately reported,
complimented us highly on the success of our trip, notwithstanding we had lost one prisoner. The
next day we took Bevins to Boggs' ranch on Picket Wire creek, and there turned him over to the civil
authorities, who put him in a log jail to await his trial. He was never tried, however, for he soon made
his escape, as I expected he would. I heard no more of him until 1872, when I learned that he was
skirmishing around on Laramie plains at his old tricks. He sent word by the gentleman from whom I
gained this information, that if he ever met me again he would kill me on sight. He was finally arrested
and convicted for robbery, and was confined in the prison at Laramie City. Again he made his
escape, and soon afterwards he organised a desperate gang of outlaws who infested the country
north of the Union Pacific railroad, and when the stages began to run between Cheyenne and
Deadwood, in the Black Hills, they robbed the coaches and passengers, frequently making large
hauls of plunder. They kept this up for some time, till finally most of the gang were caught, tried,
convicted and sent to the penitentiary for a number of years. Bill Bevins and nearly all of his gang are
now confined in the Nebraska State prison, to which they were transferred from Wyoming.


CHAPTER XIV
A MILITARY EXPEDITION
A day or two after my return to Fort Lyon, the Fifth Cavalry were ordered to the Department of the
Platte, and took up their line of march for Fort McPherson, Nebraska. We laid over one day at Fort
Wallace, to get supplies, and while here I had occasion to pass General Bankhead's headquarters.
His orderly called to me and said the General wished to see me. As I entered the General's office he
extended his hand and said: "I hope you have no hard feelings toward me, Cody, for having you
arrested when you were here. I have just had a talk with General Carr and Quartermaster Hays and
they informed me that you had their permission to ride the horse and mule, and if you had stated this
fact to me there would have been no trouble about the matter whatever."

"That is all right, General," said I; "I will think no more of it. But I don't believe that your
quartermaster's agent will ever again circulate false stories about me."

" No," said the General; "he has not yet recovered from the beating that you gave him."

From Fort Wallace we moved down to Sheridan, where the command halted for us to lay in a
supply of forage which was stored there. I was still messing with Major Brown, with whom I went
into the village to purchase a supply of provisions for our mess; but unfortunately we were in too
jolly a mood to fool away money on "grub." We bought several articles, however, and put them into
the ambulance and sent them back to the camp with our cook. The Major and myself did not return
until reveille next morning. Soon afterwards the General sounded "boots and saddles," and presently
the regiment was on its way to McPherson.

It was very late before we went into camp that night and we were tired and hungry. Just as Major
Brown was having his tent put up his cook came to us and asked where the provisions were that we
had bought the day before.

"Why, did we not give them to you &emdash;did you not bring them to camp in the ambulance?"
asked Major Brown.

"No, sir; it was only a five-gallon demijohn of whisky, a five-gallon demijohn of brandy, and two
cases of Old Tom-Cat gin," said the cook.

"The mischief!" I exclaimed; "didn't we spend any money on grub at all ? "

"No, sir," replied the cook.

"Well, that will do for the present," said Major Brown.

It seems that our minds had evidently been running on a different subject than provisions while we
were loitering in Sheridan, and we found ourselves, with a two hundred and fifty mile march ahead of
us, without anything more inviting than ordinary army rations.

At this juncture captain Denny came up and the Major apologized for not being able to invite him to
take supper with us; but we did the next best thing, and asked him to take a drink. He remarked that
that was what he was looking for, and when he learned of our being out of commissary supplies and
that we had bought nothing except whisky, brandy and gin, he said, joyously:&emdash;

"Boys, as we have an abundance, you can eat with us and we will drink with you."

It was a satisfactory arrangement, and from that time forward we traded our liquids for their solids.
When the rest of the officers heard of what Brown and I had done they all sent us invitations to dine
with them at any time. We returned the compliment by inviting them to drink with us whenever they
were dry. Although I would not advise anybodv to follow our example, yet it is a fact that we got
more provisions for our whisky than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have
bought, so after all it proved a very profitable investment.

 

A BlG INDIAN TRAIL
On reaching north fork of the Beaver and riding down the valley towards the stream, I suddenly
discovered a large fresh Indian trail. On examination I found it to be scattered all over the valley on
both sides of the creek, as if a very large village had recently passed down that way. Judging from
the size of the trail, I thought there could not be less than four hundred lodges, or between
twenty-five hundred and three thousand warriors, women and children in the band. I galloped back
to the command, distant about three miles, and reported the news to General Carr, who halted the
regiment, and, after consulting a few minutes, ordered me to select a ravine, or as low ground as
possible, so that he could keep the troops out of sight until we could strike the creek.

We went into camp on the Beaver, and the General ordered Lieutenant Ward to take twelve men and
myself and follow up the trail for several miles, and find out how fast the Indians were traveling. I
was soon convinced, by the many camps they had made, that they were traveling slowly, and hunting
as they journeyed. We went down the Beaver on this scout about twelve miles, keeping our horses
well concealed under the banks of the creek, so as not to be discovered. 

At this point, Lieutenant Ward and myself, leaving our horses behind us, crawled to the top of a high
knoll, where we could have a good view for some miles distant down the stream. We peeped over
the summit of the hill, and not over three miles away we could see a whole Indian village in plain
sight, and thousands of ponies grazing around on the prairie. Looking over to our left on the
opposite side of the creek, we observed two or three parties of Indians coming in, loaded down with
buffalo meat.

"This is no place for us, Lieutenant," said I; "I think we have important business at the camp to
attend to as soon as possible." 

"I agree with you," said he, "and the quicker we get there the better it will be for us."

We quickly descended the hill and joined the men below. Lieutenant Ward hurriedly wrote a note to
General Carr, and handing it to a corporal, ordered him to make all possible haste back to the
command and deliver the message. The man started off on a gallop, and Lieutenant Ward said: "We
will march slowly back until we meet the troops, as I think the General will soon be here, for he will
start immediately upon receiving my note."

 

ATTACK ON THE COURIER
In a few minutes we heard two or three shots in the direction in which our dispatch courier had gone,
and soon after we saw him come running around the bend of the creek, pursued by four or five
Indians. The Lieutenant, with his squad of soldiers and myself, at once charged upon them, when
they turned and ran across the stream. 

"This will not do," said Lieutenant Ward, "the whole Indian village will now know that soldiers are
near by.

"Lieutenant, give me that note, and I will take it to the General," said I.

He gladly handed me the dispatch, and spurring my horse I dashed up the creek. After having ridden
a short distance, I observed another party of Indians also going to the village with meat; but instead
of waiting for them to fire upon me, I gave them a shot at long range. Seeing one man firing at them
so boldly, it surprised them, and they did not know what to make of it. While they as were thus
considering, I got between them and our camp. By this time they had recovered from their surprise,
and, cutting their buffalo meat loose from their horses, they came after me at the top of their speed;
but as their steeds were tired out, it did not take me long to leave them far in the rear.

I reached the command in less than an hour, delivered the dispatch to General Carr, and informed
him of what I had seen. He instantly had the bugler sound "boots and saddles," and all the troops
&emdash;with the exception of two companies which we left to guard the train&emdash;were soon
galloping in the direction of the Indian camp.

 

A LIEUTENANT IN SHARP QUARTERS
We had ridden about three miles when we met Lieutenant Ward, who was coming slowly towards
us. He reported that he had run into a party of Indian buffalo hunters, and had killed one of the
number, and had had one of his horses wounded. We immediately pushed forward and after
marching about five miles came within sight of hundreds of mounted Indians advancing up the creek
to meet us. They formed a complete line in front of us. General Carr, being desirous of striking their
village, ordered the troops to charge, break through their line, and keep straight on. This movement
would, no doubt, have been successfully accomplished had it not been for the rattlebrained and
dare-devil French Lieutenant Schinosky, commanding Company B. who, misunderstanding General
Carr's orders, charged upon some Indians at the left, while the rest of the command dashed through
the enemy's line, and was keeping straight on, when it was observed that Schinosky and his
company were surrounded by four or five hundred red-skins. The General, to save the company,
was obliged to sound a halt and charge back to the rescue. The company, during this short fight, had
several men and quite a number of horses killed.

All this took up valuable time, and night was coming on. The Indians were fighting desperately to
keep us from reaching their village, which being informed by couriers of what was taking place, was
packing up and getting away. During that afternoon it was all we could do to hold our own in fighting
the mounted warriors, who were in our front and contesting every inch of the ground. The General
had left word for our wagon train to follow up with its escort of two companies, but as it had not
made its appearance he entertained some fears that it had been surrounded, and to prevent the
possible loss of the supply train we had to go back and look for it. About 9 o'clock that evening

we found it, and went into camp for the night.

Early the next day we broke camp and passed down the creek but there was not an Indian to be
seen. They had all disappeared and gone on with their village. Two miles fuuther we came to where a
village had been located, and here we found nearly every thing belonging or pertaining to an Indian
camp, which had been left in the great hurry to get away. These articles were all gathered up and
burned. We then pushed out on the trail as fast as possible. It led us to the northeast towards the
Republican; but as the Indians had a night the start of us we entertained but little hope of overtaking
them that day. Upon reaching the Republican in the afternoon the General called a halt, and as the
trail was running more to the east, he concluded to send his wagon train on to Fort McPherson by
the most direct route, while he would follow on the trail of the red-skins.

Next morning at daylight we again pulled out and were evidently gaining rapidly on the Indians for we
could occasionally see them in the distance. About 11 o'clock that day while Major Babcock was
ahead of the main command with his company, and while we were crossing a deep ravine, we were
surprised by about three hundred warriors who commenced a lively fire upon us. Galloping out of
the ravine on to the rough prairie the men dismounted and returned the fire. We soon succeeded in
driving the enemy before us, and were so close upon them at one time that they abandoned and
threw away nearly all their lodges and camp equipages, and everything that had any considerable
weight. They left behind them their played-out horses, and for miles we could see Indian furniture
strewn along in every direction. The trail became divided, and the Indians scattered in small bodies,
all over the prairie. As night was approaching and our horses were about giving out, a halt was
called. A company was detailed to collect all the Indian horses running loose over the country, and
to burn the other Indian property.

The command being nearly out of rations I was sent to the nearest point, Old Fort Kearney, about
sixty miles distant for supplies.

 

RE-ENFORCED BY THE PAWNEE SCOUTS
Shortly after we reached Fort McPherson, which continued to be the headquarters of the Fifth
Cavalry for some time, we fitted out for a new expedition to the Republican river country, and were
re-enforced by three companies of the celebrated Pawnee Indian scouts, commanded by Major
Frank North: his officers being Captain Lute North, brother of the Major, Captain Cushing, his
brother-in-law, Captain Morse, and Lieutenants Beecher, Matthews and Kislandberry. General Carr
recommended at this time to General Augur, who was in command of the Department, that I be
made chief of scouts in the Department of the Platte, and informed me that in this position I would
receive higher wages than I had been getting in the Department of the Missouri. This appointment I
had not asked for.

I made the acquaintance of Major Frank North and I found him and his officers perfect gentlemen,
and we were all good friends from the very start. The Pawnee scouts had made quite a reputation for
themselves as they had performed brave and valuable services in fighting against the Sioux, whose
bitter enemies they were; being thoroughly acquainted with the Republican and Beaver country, I was
glad that they were to be with the expedition, and my expectation of the aid they would render was
not disappointed.

During our stay at Fort McPherson I made the acquaintance of Lieutenant George P. Belden, known
as the "White Chief," whose life was written by Colonel Brisbin, U. S. army. I found him to be an
intelligent, dashing fellow, a splendid rider and an excellent shot. An hour after our introduction he
challenged me for a rifle match, the preliminaries of which were soon arranged. We were to shoot ten
shots each for fifty dollars, at two hundred yards, off hand. Belden was to use a Henry rifle, while I
was to shoot my old "Lucretia." This match I won and then Belden proposed to shoot a one
hundred yard match, as I was shooting over his distance. In this match Belden was victorious. We
were now even, and we stopped right there.

 

A COMICAL SIGHT
While we were at this post General Augur and several of his officers, and also Thomas Duncan,
Brevet Brigadier and Lieutenant-Colonel of the Fifth Cavalry, paid us a visit for the purpose of
reviewing the command. The regiment turned out in fine style and showed themselves to be well
drilled soldiers, thoroughly understanding military tactics. The Pawnee scouts were also reviewed
and it was very amusing to see them in their full regulation uniform. They had been furnished a
regular cavalry uniform and on this parade some of them had their heavy overcoats on, others their
large black hats, with all the brass accoutrements attached; some of them were minus pantaloons and
only wore a breech-clout. Others wore regulation pantaloons but no shirts and were bare headed;
others again had the seat of the pantaloons cut out, leaving only leggins; some of them wore brass
spurs, though without boots or moccasins; but for all this they seemed to understand the drill
remarkably well for Indians. The commands, of course, were given to them in their own language by
Major North, who could talk it as well as any full-blooded Pawnee. The Indians were well mounted
and felt proud and elated because they had been made United States soldiers. Major North had for
years complete power over these Indians and could do more with them than any man living. That
evening after the parade was over the officers and quite a number of ladies visited a grand Indian
dance given by the Pawnees, and of all the Indians I have seen their dances excel those of any other
tribe. 

 

BATTLE BETWEEN THE SIOUX AND PAWNEES
Next day the command started; when encamped, several days after, on the Republican river near the
mouth of the Beaver, we heard the whoops of Indians, followed by shots in the vicinity of the mule
herd, which had been taken down to water. One of the herders came dashing into camp with an
arrow sticking into him. My horse was close at hand, and, mounting him bare-back, I at once dashed
off after the mule herd, which had been stampeded. I supposed certainly that I would be the first
man on the ground, but I was mistaken, however, for the Pawnee Indians, unlike regular soldiers, had
not waited to receive orders from their officers, but had jumped on their ponies without bridles or
saddles, and placing ropes in their mouths, had dashed off in the direction whence the shots had
come, and had got there ahead of me. It proved to be a party of about fifty Sioux, who had
endeavored to stampede our mules, and it took them by surprise to see their inveterate enemies
&emdash;the Pawnees &emdash;coming at full gallop towards them. They were not aware that the
Pawnees were with the command, and as they knew that it would take regular soldiers some time to
turn out, they thought they would have ample opportunity to secure the herd before the troops could
give chase. 

We had a running fight of fifteen miles and several of the enemy were killed. During this chase I was
mounted on an excellent horse, which Colonel Royal had picked out for me, and for the first mile or
two I was in advance of the Pawnees. Presently a Pawnee shot by me like an arrow and I could not
help admiring the horse that he was riding. Seeing that he possessed rare running qualities, I
determined if possible to get possession of the animal in some way. It was a large buckskin or
yellow horse, and I took a careful view of him so that I would know him when I returned to camp.

After the chase was over I rode up to Major North and inquired about the buckskin horse.

"Oh, yes," said the Major, "that is one of our favorite steeds." 

"What chance is there to trade for him?" I asked.

"It is a government horse," said he, "and the Indian who is riding him is very much attached to the
animal."

"I have fallen in love with the horse myself," said I, "and I would like to know if you have any
objections to my trading for him if I can arrange it satisfactorily with the Indian?"

He replied: "None whatever, and I will help you to do it; you can give the Indian another horse in his
place."

A few days after this, I persuaded the Indian, by making him several presents, to trade horses with
me, and in this way I became the owner of the buckskin steed, not as my own property, however,
but as a government horse that I could ride. I gave him the name of "Buckskin Joe" and he proved to
be a second Brigham. That horse I rode on and off during the summers of 1869, 1870, 1871 and
1872, and he was the horse that the Grand Duke Alexis rode on his buffalo hunt. In the winter of
1872, after I had left Fort McPherson, Buckskin Joe was condemned and sold at public sale, and
was bought by Dave Perry, at North Platte, who in 1877 presented him to me, and I owned him until
his death in 1879.

The command scouted several days up the Beaver and Prairie Dog rivers, occasionally having
running fights with war parties of Indians, but did not succeed in getting them into a general battle. At
the eyed of twenty days we found ourselves back on the Republican. 

 

THE INDIANS THINK BETTER OF ME
Hitherto the Pawnees had not taken much interest in me, but while at this camp I gained their respect
and admiration by showing them how I killed buffaloes. Although the Pawnees were excellent buffalo
killers, for Indians, I have never seen one of them who could kill more than four or five in one run. A
number of them generally surround the herd and then dash in upon them and in this way each one
kills from one to four buffaloes. I had gone out in company with Major North and some of the
officerss and saw them make a "surround." Twenty of the Pawneee circled a herd and succeeded an
killing only thirty-two.

While they were cutting up the animals another herd appeared in sight. The Indians were preparing to
surround it, when I asked Major North to keep them back and let me show them what I could do. He
accordingly informed the Indians of my wish and they readily consented to let me have the
opportunity. I had learned that Buckskin Joe was an excellent buffalo horse, and felt confident that I
would astonish the natives; galloping among the buffaloes, I certainly did so by killing thirty-six in
less than a half-mile run. At nearly every shot I killed a buffalo, stringing the dead animals out on the
prairie, not over fifty feet apart. This manner of killing was greatly admired by the Indians who called
me a big chief, and from that time on I stood high in their estimation.


CHAPTER XV
A DESPERATE FIGHT
On leaving camp, the command took a westward course up the Republican, and Major North with
two companies of his Pawnees and two or three companies of cavalry, under the command of
Colonel Royal, made a scout to the north of the river. Shortly after we had gone into camp, on the
Black Tail Deer fork, we observed a band of Indians coming over the prairie at full gallop, singing
and yelling and waving their lances and long poles. At first we supposed them to be Sioux, and all
was excitement for a few moments. We noticed, however, that our Pawnee Indians made no hostile
demonstrations or preparations toward going out to fight them, but began swinging and yelling
themselves. Captain Lute North stepped up to General Carr and said: "General, those are our men
who are coming, and they have had a fight. That is the way they act when they come back from a
battle and have taken any scalps."

The Pawnees came into camp on the run. Captain North calling to one of them &emdash;a sergeant
&emdash;soon found out that they had run across a party of Sioux who were following a large
Indian trail. These Indians had evidently been in a fight, for two or three of them had been wounded
and they were conveying the injured persons on travoix. The Pawnees had "jumped" them and had
killed three or four after a sharp fight, in which much ammunition was expended. Next morning the
command, at an early hour, started out to take up this Indian trail which they followed for two days
as rapidly as possible; it becoming evident from the many campfires which we passed that we were
gaining on the Indians. Wherever they had encamped we found the print of a womanly shoe, and we
concluded that they had with them some white captive. This made us all the more anxious to
overtake them, and General Carr accordingly selected all his best horses, which could stand a hard
run, and gave orders for the wagon train to follow as fast as possible, while he pushed ahead on a
forced march. At the same time I was ordered to pick out five or six of the best Pawnees, and go on
in advance of the command keeping ten or twelve miles ahead on the trail, so that when we overtook
the Indians we could find out the location of their camp and send word to the troops before they
came in sight, thus affording ample time to arrange a plan for the capture of the village.

After having gone about ten miles in advance of the regiment, we began to move very cautiously, as
we were now evidently nearing the Indians. We looked carefully over the summits of the hills before
exposing ourselves to plain view, and at last we discovered the village, encamped in the sand-hills
south of the South Platte river at Summit Springs. Here I left the Pawnee scouts to keep watch, while
I went back and informed General Carr that the Indians were in sight. 

The general at once ordered his men to tighten their saddles and otherwise prepare for action. Soon
all was excitement among the officers and soldiers, every one being anxious to charge the village. I
now changed my horse for old Buckskin Joe, who had been led for me thus far, and was
comparatively fresh. Acting on my suggestion, the General made a circuit to the north, believing that
if the Indians had their scouts outs they would naturally be watching in the direction whence they had
come. When we had passed the Indians and were between them and the Platte river, we turned
toward the left and started toward the village.

By this maneuver we had avoided discovery by the Sioux scouts and we were confident of giving
them a complete surprise. Keeping the command wholly out of sight, until we were within a mile of
the Indians, the General halted the advance guard until all closed up, and then issued an order that,
when he sounded the charge, the whole command was to rush into the village.

 

A CHARGE THROUGH THE INDIAN VILLAGE
As we halted on the top of the hill overlooking the camp of the unsuspecting Indians, General Carr
called out to his bugler: "Sound the charge!" The bugler for a moment became intensely excited, and
actually forgot the notes. The General again sang out: "Sound the charge !" and yet the bugler was
unable to obey the command, Quartermaster Hays &emdash;who had obtained permission to
accompany the expedition &emdash;was riding near the General, and comprehending the dilemma of
the man, rushed up to him, jerked the bugle from his hands and sounded the charge himself in clear
and distinct notes. As the troops rushed forward, he threw the bugle away, then drawing his pistols,
was among the first men that entered the village.

The Indians had just driven up their horses and were preparing to make a move of the camp, when
they saw the soldiers coming down upon them. A great many of them succeeded in jumping upon
their ponies, and leaving everything behind them, advanced out of the village and prepared to meet
the charge; but upon second thought they quickly concluded that it was useless to try to check us,
and those who were mounted rapidly rode away, while the others on foot fled for safety to the
neighboring hills. We went through their village, shooting right and left at everything we saw. The
Pawnees, the regular soldiers and officers were all mixed up together, and the Sioux were flying in
every direction.

The pursuit continued until darkness made it impossible to longer follow the Indians, who had
scattered and were leading off in every direction like a brood of young quails. The expedition went
into camp along the South Platte, much exhausted by so long a chase, and though very tired, every
trooper seemed anxious for the morrow.

It was nearly sunrise when "boots and saddles" was sounded, breakfast having been disposed of at
break of day. The command started in a most seasonable time, but finding that the trail was all
broken up, it was deemed advisable to separate into companies, each to follow a different trail.

The company which I headed struck out toward the Northwest over a route indicating the march of
about one hundred Indians, and followed this for nearly two days. At a short bend of the Platte a
new trail was discovered leading into the one the company was following, and at this point it was
evident that a junction had been made. Further along evidences of a reunion of the entire village
increased, and now it began to appear that further pursuit would be somewhat hazardous, owing to
the largely increased force of Indians. But there were plenty of brave men in the company and nearly
all were anxious to meet the Indians, however great their numbers might be. This anxiety was
appeased on the third day, when a party of about six hundred Sioux was discovered riding in close
ranks near the Platte. The discovery was mutual and there was immediate preparation for battle on
both sides. Owing to the overwhelming force of the Indians, extreme caution became necessary, and
instead of advancing boldly the soldiers sought advantageous ground. Seeing this, the Indians
became convinced that there had been a division in Gen. Carr's command and that the company
before them was a fragmentary part of the expedition; they therefore assumed the aggressive,
charging us until we were compelled to retire to a ravine and act on the defensive. The attack was
made with such caution that the soldiers fell back without undue haste, and had ample opportunity to
secure their horses in the natural pit, which was a ravine that during wet seasons formed a branch of
the Platte.

 

CORRALLED BY HOSTILES
After circling about the soldiers with the view of measuring their full strength, the Indians,
comprehending how small was the number, made a desperate charge from two sides, getting so near
us that several of the soldiers were badly wounded by arrows. But the Indians were received with
such withering fire that they fell back in confusion, leaving twenty of their warriors on the ground.
Another charge resulted like the first, with heavy loss to the red-skins, which so discouraged them
that they drew off and held a long council. After discussing the situation among themselves for more
than an hour they separated, one body making off as though they intended to leave, but I understood
their motions too well to allow the soldiers to be deceived.

The Indians that remained again began to ride in a circle around us, but maintained a safe distance,
out of rifle range. Seeing an especially well mounted Indian riding at the head of a squad, passing
around in the same circle more than a dozen times, I decided to take my chances for dismounting the
chief (as he proved to be) and to accomplish this purpose I crawled on my hands and knees three
hundred yards up the ravine, stopping at a point which I considered would be in range of the Indian
when he should again make the circuit. My judgment proved correct, for soon the Indian was seen
loping his pony through the grass, and as he slackened speed to cross the ravine, I rose up and fired,
the aim being so well taken that the chief tumbled to the ground while his horse, after running a few
hundred yards, approached the soldiers, one of whom ran out and caught hold of the long lariat
attached to the bridle, and thus secured the animal. When I returned to the company, all of whom
had witnessed my feat of killing an Indian at a range of fully four hundred yards, by general consent
the horse of my victim was given to me.

This Indian whom I killed proved to be Tall Bull, one of the most cunning and able chiefs the Sioux
ever had, and his death so affected the Indians that they at once retreated without further attempt to
dislodge us.

Some days after this occurrence Gen. Carr's command was brought together again, and had an
engagement with the Sioux, in which more than three hundred warriors and a large number of ponies
were captured, together with several hundred squaws, among the latter being Tall Bull's widow, who
told with pathetic interest how the Prairie Chief* [For many years I was known among all Northern
Indians as the Prairie Chief.] had killed her husband. But instead of being moved with hatred against
me, as most civilised women would have been under like circumstances, she regarded me with
special favor, and esteemed it quite an honor that her husband, a great warrior himself, should have
met his death at my hands.

 

MY MEETING WITH NED BUNTLINE
The expedition having succeeded in thoroughly dispersing and punishing the Sioux, Gen. Carr went
into barracks at Fort Sedgwick, but we had not remained long in quarters before reports of fresh
outbreaks reached us and we had therefore to remain in constant expectation of orders for moving.

One day, while we were lying at Fort Sedgwick, General Carr received a telegram from Fort
McPherson stating that the Indians had made a dash on the Union Pacific railroad, derailing a freight
train, from which they captured several bolts of calico and other dry goods, and had killed several
section-men, besides running off some stock near O'Fallon's station; also that an expedition was
going out from Fort McPherson to catch and punish the red-skins if possible. The General ordered
me to accompany the expedition, and accordingly that night I proceeded by rail to McPherson
station, and from thence rode on horseback to the fort. Two companies, under command of Major
Brown, had been ordered out, and next morning, just as we were about to start, Major Brown said to
me:

"By the way, Cody, we are going to have quite an important character with us as a guest on this
scout. It's old Ned Buntline, the novelist."

Just then I noticed a gentleman, who was rather stoutly built, and who wore a blue military coat, on
the left breast of which were pinned about twenty gold medals and badges of secret societies. He
walked a little lame as he approached us, and I at once concluded that he was Ned Buntline.

"He has a good mark to shoot at on the left breast," said I to Major Brown, "but he looks like a
soldier." As he came up, Major Brown said:

"Cody, allow me to introduce you to Colonel E. B. C. Judson, otherwise known as Ned Buntline."

"Colonel Judson, I am glad to meet you," said I; "the Major tells me that you are to accompany us
on the scout."

"Yes my boy, so I am," said he: "I was to deliver a temperance lecture to-night, but no lectures for
me when there is a prospect for a fight. The Major has kindly offered me a horse but I don't know
how I'll stand the ride, for I haven't done any riding lately; but when I was a young man I spent
several years among the fur companies of the Northwest, and was a good rider and an excellent
shot."

"The Major has given you a fine horse, and you'll soon find yourself at home in the saddle," said I.

The command soon pulled out for the South Platte river, which was very wide and high, owing to
recent mountain rains, and in crossing it we had to swim our horses in some places. Buntline was the
first man across. We reached O'Fallon's at eleven o'clock, and in a short time I succeeded in finding
the Indian trail; the party seemed to be a small one, which had come up from the south. We followed
their track to the North Platte, but as they had a start of two days, Major Brown abandoned the
pursuit, and returned to Fort McPherson, while I went back to Fort Sedgwick, accompanied by
Buntline.

During this short scout, Buntline had asked me a great many questions, and he was determined to go
out on the next expedition with me, providing he could obtain permission from the commanding
officer. I introduced him to the officers &emdash;excepting those he already knew &emdash;and
invited him to become my guest while he remained at the post, and gave him my pony Powder Face
to ride.

 

HORSE RACING IN THE HOSTILE COUNTRY
By this time I had learned that my horse Tall Bull was a remarkably fast runner, and therefore when
Lieutenant Mason, who was quite a sport and owned a racer, challenged me to a race, I immediately
accepted it. We were to run our horses a single dash of half a mile for one hundred dollars a side.
Several of the officers, and also Reub. Wood, the post-trader, bantered me for side bets, and I took
them all until I had put up my last cent on Tall Bull.

The ground was measured off, the judges were selected, and all other preliminaries were arranged.
We rode our horses ourselves, and coming up to the score nicely we let them go. I saw from the
start that it would be mere play to beat the Lieutenant's horse, and therefore I held Tall Bull in check,
so that none could see how fast he really could run. I easily won the race, and pocketed a snug little
sum of money. Of course everybody was now talking horse. Major North remarked that if Tall Bull
could beat the Pawnees' fast horse, I could break his whole command.

The next day the troops were paid off, the Pawnees with the rest, and for two or three days they did
nothing but run horseraces, as all the recently captured horses had to be tested to find out the
swiftest among them. Finally the Pawnees wanted to run their favorite horse against Tall Bull, and I
accordingly arranged a race with them. They raised three hundred dollars and bet it on their horse,
while of course I backed Tall Bull with an equal amount, and in addition took numerous side bets.
The race was a single dash of a mile, and Tall Bull won it without any difficulty. I was ahead on this
race about seven hundred dollars, and the horse was fast getting a reputation. Heretofore nobody
would bet on him, but now he had plenty of backers. 

 

THE TRICK OF POWDER-FACE.
I also made a run for my pony Powder Face against a fast pony belonging to Captain Lute North. I
selected a small boy living at the post to ride Powder Face, while an Indian boy was to ride the other
pony. The Pawnees as usual wanted to bet on their pony, but as I had not fully ascertained the
running quali ties of Powder Face, I did not care about risking very much money on him. Had I
known him as well then as I did afterwards I would have backed him for every dollar I had, for he
proved to be one of the swiftest ponies I ever saw, and had evidently been kept as a racer.

The race was to be four hundred yards, and when I led the pony over the track he seemed to
understand what he was there for. North and I finally put the riders on, and it was all I could do to
hold the fiery little animal after the boy became seated on his back. He jumped around and made
such quick movements, that the boy was not at all confident of being able to stay on him. The order
to start was at last given by the judges, and as I brought Powder Face up to the score and the word
"go" was given, he jumped away so quickly that he left his rider sitting on the ground;
notwithstanding, he ran through and won the race without him. It was an easy victory, and after that I
could get up no more races. Thus passed the time while we were at Fort Sedgwick.

General Carr having obtained a leave of absence, Colonel Royal was given the command of an
expedition that was ordered to go out after the Indians, and in a few days &emdash;after having
rested a couple of weeks &emdash;we set out for the Republican, having learned that there were
plenty of Indians in that section of the country. At Frenchman's fork we discovered an Indian village,
but did not surprise it, for its people had noticed us approaching, and were retreating when we
reached their camping place. We chased them down the stream, and they finally turned to the left,
went north and crossed the South Platte river five miles above Ogalalla. We pushed rapidly after
them, following them across the North Platte and on through the sand hills towards the Niobrara, but
as they were making much better time than we, the pursuit was abandoned.

 

AN INTERESTING INDIAN TRADITION
While we were in the sand hills, scouting the Niobrara country, the Pawnee Indians brought into
camp, one night, some very large bones, one of which a surgeon of the expedition pronounced to be
the thigh bone of a human being. The Indians claimed that the bones they had found were those of a
person belonging to a race of people who a long time ago lived in this country: That there was once
a race of men on the earth whose size was about three times that of an ordinary man, and they were
so swift and powerful that they could run alongside of a buffalo, and taking the animal in one arm
could tear off a leg and eat the meat as they walked. These giants denied the existence of a Great
Spirit, and when they heard the thunder or saw the lightning they laughed at it and said they were
greater than either. This so displeased the Great Spirit that he caused a great rain storm to come, and
the water kept rising higher and higher so that it drove those proud and conceited giants from the low
grounds to the hills, and thence to the mountains, but at last even the mountain tops were
submerged, and then those mamnoth men were all drowned. After the flood had subsided, the Great
Spirit came to the conclusion that he had made man too large and powerful, and that he would
therefore correct the mistake by creating a race of men of smaller size and less strength. This is the
reason, say the Indians, that modern men are small and not like the giants of old, and they claim that
this story is a matter of Indian history, which has been handed down among them from time
immemorial.

As we had no wagons with us at the time this large and heavy bone was found, we were obliged to
leave it.


CHAPTER XVI
SOME PLEASING NOVELTIES
Remaining at Fort Sedgwick during the winter, early in the following spring I returned to Fort
McPherson under orders to report to Major-General Emory, of the Fifth Cavalry, who had been
appointed commandant of the district of the Republican, with headquarters at that post.

As the command had been continually in the field, it was generally thought that we were to have a
long rest; and it looked as if this post was to be my home and headquarters for some time to come. I
accordingly sent to St. Louis for my wife and daughter to join me there. General Emory promised to
build a house for me, but before the building was completed my family arrived.

During the fall of 1869 there were two or three scouting expeditions sent out; but nothing of very
great importance was accomplished by them. I found Fort McPherson to be a lively and pleasant
post to be stationed at, especially as there was plenty of game in the vicinity, and within a day's ride
there were large herds of deer, antelope and elk.

During the winter of 1869-70 I spent a great deal of time in pursuit of game, and during the season
we had two hunting parties of Englishmen there; one party being that of Mr. Flynn, and the other that
of George Boyd Houghton, of London &emdash;the well-known caricaturist. Among the
amusements which I arranged for the party's entertainment were several horse races, in which,
however, Tall Bull and Powder Face were invariably the winners, much to my profit. Tall Bull by this
time had such a reputation as a running horse, that it was difficult to make a race for him. I therefore
had recourse to a novel proposition in order to run him against a horse in Captain Spaulding's
company of the Second Cavalry.

This race was an interesting affair. I made a bet that Tall Bull would beat the Second Cavalry horse
around a one mile track, and that during the time he was running, I would jump off and on the horse
eight times. I rode the horse bareback, seized his mane with my left hand, rested my right on his
withers, and while he was going at full speed, I jumped to the ground, and sprang again upon his
back, eight times in succession. Such feats I had seen performed in the circus and I had practiced
considerably at it with Tall Bull, so that I was certain of winning the race in the manner agreed upon.

 

IN PURSUIT OF INDIAN HORSE THIEVES
Early one morning, in the spring of 1870, the Indians, who had approached during the night, stole
some twenty-one head of horses from Mr. John Burke &emdash;a government contractor
&emdash;Ben Gallagher and Jack Waite. They also ran off some horses from the post, among the
number being my pony Powder Face. The commandant at once ordered out Lieutenant Thomas with
Company I of the Fifth Cavalry, and directed me to accompany them as trailer. We discovered the
trail after some little difficulty, as the Indians were continually trying to hide it, and followed it sixty
miles, when darkness set in.

We were now within about four miles of Red Willow creek and I felt confident the Indians would
camp that night in that vicinity. Advising Lieutenant Thomas to halt his company and "lay low" I
proceeded on to the creek, where moving around cautiously, I suddenly discovered horses feeding
in a bend of the stream on the opposite side. I hurried back to the troops with the information, and
Lieutenant Thomas moved his company to the bank of the creek, with the intention of remaining
there until daylight, and then, if possible, surprise the Indians.

Just at break of day we mounted our horses, and after riding a short distance we ascended a slight
elevation, when, not over one hundred yards distant, we looked down into the Indian camp. The
Indians, preparing to make an early start, had driven up their horses and were in the act of mounting,
when they saw us charging down upon them. In a moment they sprang upon their ponies and dashed
away. Had it not been for the creek, which lay between us and them, we would have got them before
they could have mounted their horses; but as it was rather miry, we were unexpectedly delayed. The
Indians fired some shots sat us while we were crossing, but as soon as we got over we went for
them in hot pursuit. A few of the red-skins had not had time to mount and had started on foot down
the creek towards the brush. One of these was killed.

 

TWO INDIANS BAGGED AT A SlNGLE SHOT
A number of our soldiers, who had been detailed before the charge to gather up any of the Indian
horses that might be stampeded, succeeded in capturing thirty-two. I hurriedly looked over them to
see if Powder Face was among them; but he was not there. Starting in pursuit of the fugitives I finally
espied an Indian mounted on my favorite, dashing away and leading all the others. We continued the
chase for two or three miles, overtaking a couple who were mounted on one horse. Coming up
behind them I fired my rifle, when about thirty feet distant; the ball passed through the backs of both,
and they fell headlong to the ground; but I made no stop however just then, for I had my eye on the
gentleman who was riding Powder Face. It seemed to be fun for him to run away from us, and run
away he did, for the last I saw of him was when he went over a divide, about three miles away. I
bade him adieu. On my way back to the Indian camp I stopped and secured the war bonnets and
accoutrements of the pair I had killed, and at the same time gently "raised their hair."

We were feeling rather tired and hungry, as we had started out on the trail thirty-six hours before
without a breakfast or taking any food with us; but not a murmur or complaint was heard among the
men. In the abandoned Indian camp, however, we found enough dried buffalo meat to give us all a
meal, and after remaining there for two hours, to rest our animals, we started on our return to Fort
McPherson, where we arrived at night, having traveled 130 miles in two days. 

This being the first fight Lieutenant Thomas had ever commanded in, he felt highly elated over his
success, and hoped that his name would be mentioned in the special orders for gallantry; sure
enough, when we returned both he, myself and the whole command received complimentary mention
in a special order. This he certainly deserved for he was a brave, energetic, dashing little officer. The
war bonnets which I had captured I turned over to General Carr, with the request that he present
them to General Augur, whose daughters were visiting at the post at the time.

 

A TOUGH OFFICER
Shortly after this, another expedition was organized at Fort McPherson for the Republican river
country. It was commanded by General Duncan, who was a jolly, blustering old fellow, and the
officers who knew him well said that we would have a good time, as he was very fond of hunting. He
was a good fighter, and one of the officers said that an Indian bullet never could hurt him, as he had
been shot in the head with a cannon ball which had not injured him in the least; another said the ball
glanced off and killed one of the toughest mules in the army.

The Pawnee scouts, who had been mustered out of service during the winter of 1869 and '70 we
reorganised to accompany this expedition. I was glad of this, as I had become quite attached to one
of the officers, Major North, and to many of the Indians. The only white scout we had at the post,
besides myself at that time, was John Y. Nelson, whose Indian name was Sha-Cha-Cha-Opoyeo,*
which interpreted means Red-Willow-Fill-the-Pipe. [*Who is still shooting Indians from the top of
the old Deadwood stage coach in the Wild West show.] This man is a character in his way; he has a
Sioux squaw for a wife, and consequently a half-breed family.

We started out from the post with the regimental band playing the lively air of "The Girl I Left
Behind Me." We made but a short march that day, and camped at night at the head of Fox creek.
Next morning General Duncan sent me word by his orderly that I was to bring up my gun and shoot
at a mark with him; but I can assure the reader that I did not feel much like shooting anything except
myself, for on the night before I had returned to Fort McPherson and spent several hours in
interviewing the sutler's store in company with Major Brown. I looked around for my gun and found
that I had left it behind. The last I could remember about it was that I had it at the sutler's store. I
informed Major Brown of my loss, who said that I was a nice scout to start out without a gun. I
replied that that was not the worst of it, as General Duncan had sent for me to shoot a match with
him, and I did not know what to do; for if the old gentleman discovered my predicament, he would
very likely severely reprimand me.

"Well, Cody," said he, "the best you can do is to make some excuse, and then go and borrow a gun
from some of the men, and tell the General that you lent yours to some man to go hunting with
to-day. While we are waiting here, I will send back to the post and get your rifle for you." I
succeeded in obtaining a gun from John Nelson, and then marching up to the General's headquarters
I shot the desired match with him, which resulted in his favor.

This was the first scout the Pawnees had been out on under command of General Duncan, and in
stationing his guards around the camp he posted them in a manner entirely different from that of
General Carr and Colonel Royal, as he insisted that the different posts should call out the hour of the
night thus:

 

THE PAWNEE INDIAN ON GUARD DUTY
"Post No. 1, nine o'clock, all is well! Post No. 2, nine o'clock, all is well!" etc.

The Pawnees, who had their regular turns at standing upon guard, were ordered to call the hour the
same as the white soldiers. This was very difficult for them to do, as there were but few of them who
could express themselves in English. Major North explained to them that when the man on post next
to them should call out the hour, they must call it also as nearly like him as possible. It was very
amusing to hear them do this. They would try to remember what the other man had said on the post
next to them. For instance, a white soldier would call out: "Post No. 1, half-past nine o'clock, all is
well!" The Indian standing next to him knew that he was bound to say something in English, and he
would sing out something like the following:

"Poss number half pass five cents &emdash;go to &emdash;! I don't care!"

This system was really so ridiculous and amusing that the General had to give it up, and the order
was accordingly countermanded.

Nothing of any great interest occurred on this march, until one day, while proceeding up Prairie Dog
creek,* [*Near the lonely camp where I had so long been laid up with a broken leg, when trapping
years before with Dave Harrington.] Major North and myself went out in advance of the command
several miles and killed a number of buffaloes. Night was approaching, and I began to look around
for a suitable camping ground for the command. Major North dismounted from his horse and was
resting, while I rode down to the stream to see if there was plenty of grass in the vicinity. I found an
excellent camping spot, and returning to Major North told him that I would ride over the hill a little
way, so that the advance guard could see me. This I did, and when the advance came in sight I
dismounted and laid down upon the grass to rest.

 

A RED HOT SITUATION
Suddenly I heard three or four shots, and in a few moments Major North came dashing up towards
me, pursued by eight or ten Indians. I instantly sprang into my saddle, and fired a few shots at the
Indians, who by this time had all come in sight, to the number of fifty. We turned our horses and ran,
the bullets flying after us thick and fast &emdash;my whip being shot from my hand and daylight
being put through the crown of my hat. We were in close quarters, when suddenly Lieutenant
Valkmar came galloping up to our relief with several soldiers, and the Indians seeing them whirled
and retreated. As soon as Major North got in sight of his Pawnees, he began riding in a circle. This
was a sign to them that there were hostile Indians in front, and in a moment the Pawnees broke ranks
pell-mell and, with Major North at their head, started for the flying warriors. The rest of the
command pushed rapidly forward also, and chased the enemy for three or four miles, killing three of
them.

But this was a wrong move on our part, as their village was on Prairie Dog creek, while they led us in
a different direction; one Indian only kept straight on up the creek &emdash;a messenger to the
village. Some of the command who had followed him, stirred up the village and accelerated its
departure. We finally got back to the main force, and then learned that we had made a great mistake.
Now commenced another stern chase.

The second day that we had been following these Indians we came upon an old squaw, whom they
had left on the prairie to die. Her people had built for her a little shade or lodge, and had given her
some provisions, sufficient to last her on her trip to the Happy Hunting grounds. This the Indians
often do when pursued b y a n enemy, and one of their number becomes too old and feeble to travel
any longer. This squaw was recognized by John Nelson who said she was a relative of his wife.
From her we learned that the Indians were known as Pawnee-Killer's band, and that they had lately
killed Buck's surveying party, consisting of eight or nine men; the massacre having occurred a few
days before on Beaver creek. We knew that they had had a fight with the surveyors, as we found
quite a number of surveying instruments, which had been left in the abandoned camp. We drove
these Indians across the Platte river and then returned to Fort McPherson, bringing the old squaw
with us; from there she was sent to the Spotted Tail agency.

During my absence, my wife had given birth to a son, and he was several weeks old when I returned.
No name had yet been given to him and I selected that of Elmo Judson, in honor of Ned Buntline;
but this the officers and scouts objected to. Major Brown proposed that we should call him Kit
Carson, and it was finally settled that that should be his name.

During the summer we made one or two more scouts and had a few skirmishes with the Indians: but
nothing of any great importance transpired. In the fall of 1870, while I was a witness in a
court-martial at Fort D. A. Russell I woke up one morning and found that I was dead broke,
&emdash;this is not an unusual occurrence to a frontiersman, or an author I may add, especially
when he is endeavoring to kill time &emdash;and to raise necessary funds I sold my race-horse Tall
Bull to Lieutenant Mason, who had long wanted him. 

In the winter of 1870 and 1871 I first met George Watts Garland, an English gentleman, and a great
hunter, whom I had the pleasure of guiding on several hunts and with whom I spent some weeks.
During the winter I also took several parties out on the Loupe river country hunting and trapping.
Although I was still chief of scouts I did not have much to do, as the Indians were comparatively
quiet, thus giving me plenty of time for sporting.

In the spring of 1871 several short scouting expeditions were sent out from Fort McPherson, but all
with minor results.

 

APPOINTED JUSTICE OF THE PEACE
About this time General Emory was considerably annoyed by petty offences committed in the
vicinity of the post, and as there was no justice of the peace in the neighborhood, he was anxious to
have such an officer there to attend to the civilians; one day he remarked to me that I would make an
excellent justice.

"General, you compliment me rather too highly, for I don't know any more about law than a
government mule does about book-keeping," said I.

"That doesn't make any difference," said he, "for I know that you will make a good 'Squire." He
accordingly had the county commissioners appoint me to the office of justice of the peace, and I
soon received my commission.

One morning a man came rushing up to my house and stated that he wanted to get out a writ of
replevin, to recover possession of a horse which a stranger was taking out of the country. I had no
blank forms, and had not yet received the statutes of Nebraska to copy from, so I asked the man:

"Where is the fellow who has got your horse?"

"He is going up the road, and is about two miles way," replied he. 

"Very well," said I, "I will get the writ ready in a minute or two." I saddled up my horse, and then
taking my old reliable gun, "Lucretia," I said to the man: "That's the best writ of replevin that I can
think of; come along, and we'll get that horse, or know the reason why." We soon overtook the
stranger, who was driving a herd of horses, and as we came up to him, I said: "Hello, sir; I am an
officer, and have an attachment for that horse," and at the same time I pointed out the animal.

"Well, sir, what are you going to do about it?" he inquired.

"I propose to take you and the horse back to the post," said I. 

"You can take the horse," said he, "but I haven't the time to return with you."

"

"You'll have to take the time, or pay the cost here and now," said I.

"How much are the costs?"

"Twenty dollars."

"Here's your money," said he, as he handed me the greenbacks.

I then gave him a little friendly advice and told him that he was released from custody. He went on
his way a wiser and a poorer man, while the owner of the horse and myself returned to the fort. I
pocketed the twenty dollars, of course. Some people might think it was not a square way of doing
business, but I didn't know any better just then. I had several little cases of this kind, and I became
better posted on the law in the course of time, being assisted by Lieutenant Burr Reilly, of the Fifth
Cavalry, who had been educated for a lawyer.

 

PERFORMING A MARRIAGE CEREMONY
One evening I was called upon to perform a marriage ceremony. The bridegroom was one of the
sergeants of the post. I had "braced up" for the occasion by imbibing rather freely of stimulants, and
when I arrived at the home with a copy of the Statutes of Nebraska, which I had recently received, I
felt somewhat confused. Whether my bewilderment was owing to the importance of the occasion
and the large assembly, or to the effect of Louis Woodin's "tanglefoot," I cannot now distinctly
remember &emdash;but my suspicions have always been that it was due to the latter cause. I looked
carefully through the statutes to find the marriage ceremony, but my efforts were unsuccessful.
Finally the time came for the knot to be tied. I told the couple to stand up and then I said to the
bridegroom: "Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to support and love her
through life?"

"I do," was the reply.

Then addressing myself to the bride, I said: "Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded
husband through life, to love, honor and obey him?"

"I do," was her response.

"Then join hands," said I to both of them; "I now pronounce you to be man and wife, and
whomsoever God and Buffalo Bill have joined tegether let no man put asunder. May you live long
and prosper. Amen."

This concluded the interesting ceremony, which was followed by the usual festivities on such
occasions. I was highly complimented for the elegant and eloquent manner in which I had tied the
matrimonial knot.

During the summer of l871, Professor Marsh, of Yale College, came out to McPherson with a large
party of students to have a hunt and to look for fossils. Professor Marsh had heard of the big bone
which had been found by the Pawnees in the Niobrara country, and he intended to look for that as
well as other bones. He accordingly secured the services of Major F. North and the Pawnees as an
escort. I was also to accompany the bonehunters, and would have done so had it not been for the
fact that just at that time I was ordered out with a small scouting party to go after some Indians.

 

A RUN FOR OUR LIVES.
The day before the Professor arrived at the fort I had been out hunting on the north side of the North
Platte river, near Pawnee Springs, with several companions, when we were suddenly attacked by
Indians, who wounded one of our number, John Weister. We stood the Indians off for a little while,
and Weister got even with them by killing one of their party. The Indians, however, outnumbered us,
and at last we were forced to make a run for our lives. In this we succeeded and reached the fort in
safety. The General wanted to have the Indians pursued and said he could not spare me to
accompany Professor Marsh.

Howevers I had the opportunity to make the acquaintance of the eminent Professor, whom I found
to be not only a well-posted person, but a very entertaining gentleman. He gave me a geological
history of the country, told me in what section fossils were to be found, and otherwise entertained
me with several scientific yarns, some of which seemed too complicated and too mysterious to be
believed by an ordinary man like myself; but it was all clear to him. I rode out with him several miles,
as he was starting on his bone-hunting expedition, and I greatly enjoyed the trip. His party had been
provided with government transportation and his students were all mounted on government horses.
As we rode along he delivered a scientific lecture and he convinced me that he knew what he was
talking about. I finally bade him good-bye and returned to the post. While the fossil-hunters were out
on their expedition we had several lively little skirmishes with the Indlans. After having been absent
some little time Professor Marsh and his party came back with their wagons loaded down with all
kinds of bones and the Professor was in his glory. He had evidently struck a bone-yard, and "gad!"
* [*A favorite expression of the Professor's.] wasn't he happy! But they had failed to find the big
bone which the Pawnees had unearthed the year before.


CHAPTER XVII
HELPING TO ENTERTAIN A DISTINGUISHED PARTY
Post McPherson was in the center of a fine game country, in which buffalo were particularly
plentiful, and though fairly surrounded by hostile Indians, it offered so many attractions for
sportsmen that several hunting parties braved the dangers for the pleasure of buffalo-chasing. In
September, 1871, General Sheridan brought a number of friends out to the post for a grand hunt,
coming by way of North Platte in a special car, and thence by government wagons to the fort, which
was only eighteen miles from that station.

The party consisted of General Sheridan, Lawrence R. Jerome, James Gordon Bennett, of the New
York Herald; Leonard W. Jerome, Carroll Livingston, Major J. G. Hecksher, General Fitzhugh,
General H. E. Davies, Captain M. Edward Rogers, Colonel J. Schuyler Crosby, Samuel Johnson,
General Anson Stager, of the Western Union Telegraph Company; Charles Wilson, editor of the
Chicago Evening Journal; General Rucker, Quartermaster-General, and Dr. Asch &emdash;the two
last named being of General Sheridan's staff. They were met at the station by General Emory and
Major Brown, with a cavalry company as escort and a sufficient number of vehicles to carry the
distinguished visitors and their baggage.

A brisk drive of less than two hours over a hard and smooth road brought them to the fort, where
they found the garrison, consisting of five companies of the Fifth Cavalry, under the command of
General Carr, out on parade awaiting their arrival. The band played some martial music, and the
cavalry passed very handsomely in review before General Sheridan. The guests were then most
hospitably received, and assigned to comfortable quarters.

Lieutenant Hayes, the quartermaster of the expedition, arranged everything for the comfort of the
party. One hundred cavalry under command of Major Brown were detailed as an escort. A train of
sixteen wagons was provided to carry the baggage, supplies, and forage for the trip; and, besides
these, there were three four-horse ambulances in which the guns were carried, and in which members
of the party who became weary of the saddle might ride and rest. At General Sheridan's request I
was to accompany the expedition; he introduced me to all his friends, and gave me a good send-off.

During the afternoon and evening the gentlemen were all entertained at the post in a variety of ways,
including dinner and supper parties, and music and dancing; at a late hour they retired to rest in their
tents at the camp which they occupied outside the post &emdash;named Camp Rucker, in honor of
General Rucker.

 

PUTTING ON A LITTLE STYLE FOR THE OCCASION
At five o'clock next morning a cavalry bugle sounded the reveille, and soon all were astir in the
camp, preparatory to pulling out for the first day's march. I rose fresh and eager for the trip, and as it
was a nobby and high-toned outfit which I was to accompany, I determined to put on a little style
myself. So I dressed in a new suit of light buckskin, trimmed along the seams with fringes of the
same material; and I put on a crimson shirt handsomely ornamented on the bosom, while on my head
I wore a broad sombrero. Then mounting a snowy white horse &emdash;a gallant stepper
&emdash;I rode down from the fort to the camp, rifle in hand. I felt first-rate that morning, and
looked well.

The expedition was soon under way. Our road for ten miles wound through a wooded ravine called
Cottonwood caon, intersecting the high ground, or divide, as it is called, between the Platte and
Republican rivers. Upon emerging from the caon we found ourselves upon the plains. First in the
line rode General Sheridan, followed by his guests, and then the orderlies Then came the
ambulances, in one of which were carried five greyhounds, brought along to course the antelope and
rabbit. With the ambulances marched a pair of Indian ponies belonging to Lieutenant Hayes
&emdash;captured during some Indian fight &emdash;and harnessed to a light wagon, which
General Sheridan occasionally used. These little horses, but thirteen hands high, showed more vigor
and endurance than any other of the animals we had with us. Following the ambulances came the
main body of the escort and the supply wagons.

We marched seventeen miles the first day, and went into camp on Fox creek, a tributary of the
Republican. No hunting had as yet been done; but I informed the gentlemen of the party that we
would strike the buffalo country the next day. A hundred or more questions were then asked me by
this one and that one, and the whole evening was spent principally in buffalo talk, sandwiched with
stories of the plains &emdash;both of war and of the chase. Several of the party, who were good
vocalists, gave us some excellent music. We closed the evening by christening the camp, naming it
Camp Brown, in honor of the gallant officer in command of the escort.

At three o'clock next morning the bugle called us to an early start. We had breakfast at half-past
four, and at six were in the saddle. All were eager to see and shoot the buffaloes, which I assured
them we would certainly meet during the day. After marching five miles, the advance guard, of which
I had the command, discovered six buffaloes grazing at a distance of about two miles from us. We
returned to the hunters with this information, and they at once consulted with me as to the best way
to attack the "enemy."

 

AN ATTACK ON THE BUFFALOES
Acting upon my suggestions, Fitzhugh, Crosby, Lawrence Jerome, Livingston, Hecksher and
Rogers, accompanied by myself as guide, rode through a convenient caon to a point beyond the
buffaloes, so that we were to the windward of the animals. The rest of the party made a detour of
nearly five miles, keeping behind the crest of a hill. We charged down upon the buffaloes at full
gallop, and just then the other party emerged from their concealment and witnessed the exciting
chase. The buffaloes started off in a line, single file. Fitzhugh, after a lively gallop, led us all and soon
came alongside the rear buffalo, at which he fired. The animal faltered, and then with another shot
Fitzhugh brought him to the ground. Crosby dashed by him and leveled another of the herd, while
Livingston dropped a third. Those who were not directly engaged in the hunt now came up and
congratulated the men upon their success, and Fitzhugh was at once hailed as the winner of the
buffalo-cup, while all sympathised with Hecksher, whose chance had been the best at the start, but
who lost by reason of his horse falling and rolling over him.

 

A PRAIRIE-DOG VILLAGE
The hunt being over, the column moved forward on its march, passing through a prairie-dog town,
several miles in extent. These animals are found throughout the plains, living together in a sort of
society; their numberless burrows in their "towns" adjoin each other, so that great care is necessary
in riding through these places, as the ground is so undermined as often to fall in under the weight of a
horse. Around the entrance to their holes the ground is piled up almost a foot high; on these little
elevations the prairie-dogs sit upon their hind legs, chattering to each other and observing whatever
passes on the plains. They will permit a person to approach quite near, but when they have viewed
him closely, they dive into their dens with wonderful quickness. They are difficult to kill, and if hit
generally succeed in crawling underground before they can be captured. Rattlesnakes and small owls
are generally found in great numbers in the prairie-dog towns, and live in the same holes with the
dogs on friendly terms. A few of the prairie dogs were killed, and were found to be very palatable
eating.

A short distance beyond the dog town we discovered a settlement of five white men, who proved to
be the Clifford brothers, Arthur Ruff, Dick Seymour and John Nelson &emdash;the latter already
referred to in these pages. Each of them had a squaw wife and numerous half-breed children, living
in tents of buffalo skins. They owned a herd of horses and mules and a few cattle, and had cultivated
a small piece of land. Their principal occupation was hunting, and they had a large number of buffalo
hides, which they had tanned in the Indian manner. 

Upon reaching Pleasant Valley, on Medicine creek, our party divided into two detachments
&emdash;one hunting along the bank of the stream for elk or deer, and the other remaining with the
main body of the escort. The elk hunters met with no success whatever, but the others ran across
plenty of buffaloes, and nearly everybody killed one or more before the day was over. Lawrence
Jerome made an excellent shot; while riding in an ambulance he killed a buffalo which attempted to
cross the line of march. About four o'clock P. M., we arrived at Mitchell's fork of the Medicine,
having traveled thirty-five miles during that day, and there we went into camp &emdash;calling it
Camp Jack Hayes, in honor of Lieutenant Hayes. 

On the next morning, the 25th, we moved out of camp at eight o'clock. The party was very
successful through the day in securing game, Hecksher, Fitzhugh, Livingston and Lieutenant Hayes,
and in fact all, doing good shooting.

Lawrence Jerome persuaded me to let him ride Buckskin Joe, the best buffalo horse in the whole
outfit, and on his back he did wonders among the buffaloes. Leonard Jerome, Bennett and Rogers
also were very successful in buffalo hunting. Our camp of this night was named Camp Asch to
commemorate our surgeon, Dr. Asch. The eveningwas pleasantly spent around the camp fires in
relating the adventures of the day.

 

LEONARD JEROME'S PREDICAMENT
Upon crossing the Republican river on the morning of the 26th, we came upon an immense number
of buffaloes scattered over the country in every direction, as far as the eye could reach, and all had
an opportunity to do as much hunting as they wished. The wagons and troops moved slowly along
in the direction of the next camp, while the hunters went off separately, or by twos and threes, in
different directions, and all were rewarded with abundant success. Lawrence Jerome, however, had
his career suddenly checked. He had dismounted to make a steady and careful shot, and
thoughtlessly let go of the bridle. The buffalo failing to take a tumble, as he ought to have done,
started off at a lively gait, followed by Buckskin Joe, the horse being determined to do some hunting
on his own account; the last seen of him, he was a little ahead of the buffalo, and gaining slightly,
leaving his late rider to his own reflections and the prospect of a tramp; his desolate condition was
soon discovered and another horse, warranted not to run under any provocation, was sent to him. It
may be stated here that three days afterwards, as I subsequently learned, Buckskin Joe, all saddled
and bridled, turned up at Fort McPherson.

We pitched our tents for the night in a charming spot on the bank of Beaver creek. The game was so
abundant that we remained there one day. This stopping place was called Camp Cody, in honor of
the reader's humble servant. The next day was spent in hunting jack-rabbits, coyotes, elks, antelopes
and wild turkeys, and in the afternoon we sat down to the finest dinner ever spread on the plains. 

 

CHARGED WITH A HEINOUS OFFENSE
In the evening a court-martial was held, at which I presided as chief justice. We tried one of the
gentlemen for aiding and abetting in the loss of a government horse, and for having something to do
with the mysterious disappearance of a Colt's pistol. He was charged also with snoring in a manner
that was regarded as fiendish, and with committing a variety of other less offenses too numerous to
mention. 

The accused made a feeble defense as to the pistol, and claimed that instead of losing a government
horse, the fact was that the horse had lost him. His statements were all regarded as "too thin," and
finally failing to prove good character, he confessed all, and threw himself upon the mercy of the
court. The culprit was Lawrence Jerome.

As chief justice I delivered the opinion of the court, which my modesty does not prevent me from
saying was done in an able and dignified manner; as an act of clemency I suspended judgment for
the time being, remarking that while the campfire held out to burn, the vilest sinner might return; and
in hope of the accused's amendment, I would defer pronouncing sentence. The trial afforded us
considerable amusement, and gave me a splendid opportunity to display the legal knowledge which I
had acquired while acting as justice of the peace at Fort McPherson.

On the morning of the 28th the command crossed the South Beaver, distant nine miles from Camp
Cody, and then striking a fair road we made a rapid march until we reached our camp on Short Nose
or Prairie Dog creek, about 2 P. M., after having made twenty-four miles. The remainder of the
afternoon was spent in hunting buffaloes and turkeys. Camp Stager was the name given to this place,
in honor of General Stager, of the Western Union Telegraph Company.

 

STILL PURSUING THE ENEMY
The next day we made a march of twenty-four miles, and then halted at about 1 P. M. on the North
Solomon river. This day we killed three buffaloes, two antelopes, two raccoons, and three teal
ducks. Near our camp, which we named Camp Leonard Jerome, was a beaver dam some six feet
high and twenty yards wide; it was near the junction of two streams, and formed a pond of at least
four acres. 

On the 30th we traveled twenty-five miles, and during the march nine turkeys, two rabbits, and three
or four buffaloes were killed. We went into camp on the bank of the South fork of the Solomon
river, and called the place Camp Sam Johnson. We were now but forty-five miles from Fort Hays,
the point at which General Sheridan and his guests expected to strike the Kansas Pacific Railway and
thence return home. That evening I volunteered to ride to Fort Hays and meet the party next day
bringing with me all the letters that might be at the post. Taking the best horse in the command I
started out, expecting to make the trip in about four hours.

The next morning the command got an early start and traveled thirty miles to Saline river, where they
made their last camp on the plains. As some of the party were attacking a herd of buffaloes, I rode in
from Fort Hays and got into the middle of the herd, and killed a buffalo or two before the hunters
observed me. I brought a large number of letters, which proved welcome reading matter.

 

CAMP-FIRE CHATS
In the evening we gathered around the camp-fire for the last time. The duty of naming the camp,
which was called Camp Davies, having been duly performed, we all united in making that night the
pleasantest of all that we had spent together. We had eloquent speeches, songs, and interesting
anecdotes. I was called upon, and entertained the gentlemen with some lively Indian stories.

The excursionists reached Fort Hays, distant fifteen miles, on the morning of October 2d, where we
pitched our tents for the last time, and named the camp in honor of Mr. Hecksher. That same
afternoon General Sheridan and his guests took the train for the East, after bidding Major Brown,
Lieutenant Hayes and myself a hearty good-bye, and expressing themselves as greatly pleased with
their hunt, and the manner in which they had been escorted and guided.

It will be proper and fair to state here that Generat Davies afterwards wrote an interesting account of
this hunt and published it in a neat volume of sixty-eight pages, under the title of "Ten Days on the
Plains." I would have inserted the volume bodily in this book, were it not for the fact that the General
has spoken in a rather too complimentary manner of me. However I have taken the liberty in this
chapter to condense from the little volume, and in some places I have used the identical language of
General Davies without quoting the same; in fact, to do the General justice, I ought to close this
chapter with several lines of quotation marks to be pretty generally distributed by the reader
throughout my account of our ten days' hunt.

Soon after the departure of General Sheridan's party, we returned to Fort McPherson and found
General Carr about to start out on a twenty days' scout, not so much for the purpose of finding
Indians, but more for the object of taking some friends on a hunt. His guests were a couple of
Englishmen, &emdash;whose names I cannot now remember &emdash;and Mr. McCarthy, of
Syracuse, New York, who was a relative of General Emory. The command consisted of three
companies of the Fifth Cavalry, one company of Pawnee Indians, and twenty-five wagons. Of
course I was called on to accompany the expedition.

 

A LITTLE JOKE ON M'CARTHY
One day, after we had been out from the post for some little time, I was hunting on Deer creek, in
company with Mr. McCarthy, about eight miles from the command. I had been wishing for several
days to play a joke on him, and had arranged a plan with Captain Lute North to carry it into
execution. I had informed North at about what time we would be on Deer creek, and it was agreed
that he should appear in the vicinity with some of his Pawnees, who were to throw their blankets
around them, and come dashing down upon us, firing and whooping in true Indian style, while he
was to either conceal or disguise himself. This programme was faithfully and completely carried out.
I had been talking about Indians to McCarthy, and he had become considerably excited, when just
as we turned a bend of the creek, we saw not half a mile from us about twenty Indians, who instantly
started for us on a gallop, firing their guns and yelling at the top of their voices.

"McCarthy, shall we dismount and fight, or run?" said I.

He didn't wait to reply, but wheeling his horse, started at full speed down the creek, losing his hat
and dropping his gun; away he went, never once looking back to see if he was being pursued. I tried
to stop him by yelling at him and saying that it was all right, as the Indians were Pawnees.
Unfortunately he did not hear me, but kept straight on, not stopping his horse until he reached the
camp.

I knew that he would tell General Carr that the Indians had jumped him, and that the General would
soon start out with the troops. So as quick as the Pawnees rode up to me I told them to remain there
while I went after my friend. I rode after him as fast as possible, but he had arrived at the command
some time before me and when I got there the General had, as I had suspected he would do, ordered
out two companies of cavalry to go in pursuit of the Indians. I told the General that the Indians were
only some Pawnees, who had been out hunting and that they had merely played a joke upon us. I
forgot to inform him that I had put up the trick, but as he was always fond of a good joke himself, he
did not get very angry. I had picked up McCarthy's hat and gun which I returned to him, and it was
some time afterwards before he discovered who was at the bottom of the affair. 

 

REMAINS OF THE MURDERED BUCK PARTY
When we returned to Fort McPherson we found there Mr. Royal Buck, whose father had been killed
with his entire party by Pawnee Killer's band of Indlans on the Beaver creek. He had a letter from the
commanding officer of the department requesting that he be furnished with an escort to go in search
of the remains of his father and the party. Two companies of cavalry were sent with him and I
accompanied them as a gulde. As the old squaw, which we had captured, and of which mention is
made in a previous chapter, could not exactly tell us the place on Beaver creek where the party had
been killed, we searched the country over for two days and discovered no signs of the murdered
men. At last, however, our efforts were rewarded with success. We found pieces of their wagons
and among other things an old letter or two which Mr. Buck recognised as his father's handwriting.
We then discovered some of the remains, which we buried; but nothing further. It was now getting
late in the fall and we accordingly returned to Fort McPherson.

A short time after this the Fifth Cavalry was ordered to Arizona, a not very desirable country to
soldier in. I had become greatly attached to the officers of the regiment, having been continually with
them for over three years, and had about made up my mind to accompany them, when a letter was
received from General Sheridan instructing the commanding officer "not to take Cody" with him,
and saying that I was to remain in my old position. In a few days the command left for its
destination, taking the cars at McPherson Station, where I bade my old friends adieu. During the next
few weeks I had but little to do, as the post was garrisoned by infantry, awaiting the arrival of the
Third Cavalry.

 

HUNTING WITH A GRAND DUKE
About the first of January, 1872, General Forsyth and Dr. Asch, of Sheridan's staff came out to Fort
McPherson to make preparations for a big buffalo hunt for the Grand Duke Alexis, of Russia; and as
this was to be no ordinary affair, these officers had been sent by General Sheridan to have all the
necessary arrangements perfected by the time the Grand Duke should arrive. They learned from me
that there were plenty of buffaloes in the vicinity, and especially on the Red Willow, sixty miles
distant. They said they would like to go over on the Red Willow and pick out a suitable place for the
camp; they also inquired the location of the camp of Spotted Tail, chief of the Sioux Indians.
Spotted Tail had permission from the Government to hunt the buffalo with his people during the
winter, in the Republican river country. It was my opinion that they were located somewhere on the
Frenchman's fork, about one hundred and fifty miles from Fort McPherson.

General Sheridan's commissioner informed me that he wished me to visit Spotted Tail's camp, and
induce about one hundred of the leading warriors and chiefs to come to the point where it should be
decided to locate the Alexis hunting camp, and to be there by the time the Grand Duke should arrive,
so that he could see a body of American Indians and observe the manner in which they killed
buffaloes. The Indians would also be called upon to give a grand war dance in honor of the
distinguished visitor.

Next morning General Forsyth and Dr. Asch, accompanied by Captain Hays, who had been left at
Fort McPherson in charge of the Fifth Cavalry horses, taking an ambulance and a light wagon, to
carry their tents and provisions sufficient to last them two or three days, started, under my guidance,
with a small escort, for Red Willow creek, arriving there at night. The next day we selected a pleasant
camping place on a little knoll in the valley of the Red Willow. General Forsyth and his party
returned to the post the next day while I left for Spotted Tail's camp.

The weather was very cold and I found my journey by no means a pleasant one as I was obliged to
camp out with only my saddle-blankets; and besides, there was more or less danger from the Indians
themselves; for, although Spotted Tail himself was friendly, I was afraid I might have difficulty in
getting into his camp. I was liable at any moment to run into a party of his young men who might be
out hunting, and as I had many enemies among the Sioux, I would be running considerable risk in
meeting them.

 

A VISIT TO SPOTTED TAIL.
At the end of the first day I camped on Stinking Water, a tributary of the Frenchman's fork. where I
built a little fire in the timber; but it was so very cold I was not able to sleep much. Getting an early
start in the morning I followed up the Frenchman's fork and late in the afternoon I could see, from
the fresh horse tracks and from the dead buffaloes lying here and there, recently killed, that I was
nearing Spotted Tail's camp. I rode on for a few miles further, and then hiding my horse in a low
ravines I crawled up a high hill, where I obtained a good view of the country. I could see for four or
five miles up the creek, and got sight of a village and of two or three hundred ponies in its vicinity. I
waited until night came and then I succeeded in riding into the Indian camp unobserved.

I had seen Spotted Tail's camp when he came from the North and I knew the kind of lodge he was
living in. As I entered the village I wrapped a blanket around my head so that the Indians could not
tell whether I was a white or a red man. In this way I rode around until I found Spotted Tail's lodge.
Dismounting from my horse I opened his tent door and looking in, saw the old chief lying on some
robes. I spoke to him and he recognised me at once and invited me to enter. Inside the lodge I found
a white man, an old frontiersman, Todd Randall, who was Spotted Tail's agent and who had lived a
great many years with the Indians. He understood their language perfectly and did all the interpreting
for Spotted Tail. Through him I readily communicated with the chief and informed him of my errand.
I told him that the warriors and chiefs would greatly please General Sheridan if they would meet him
about ten sleeps at the old Government crossing of the Red Willow. I further informed him that there
was a great chief from across the water who was coming there to visit him.

Spotted Tail replied that he would be very glad to go; that the next morning he would call his people
together and select those who would accompany him. I told Spotted Tail how I had entered his
camp. He replied that I had acted wisely; that although his people were friendly, yet some of his
young men had a grudge against me, and I might have had difficulty with them had I met them away
from the village. He directed his squaw to get me something to eat, and ordered that my horse be
taken care of and upon his invitation I spent the remainder of the night in his lodge.

 

THEY WANTED TO LIFT MY HAIR
Next morning the chiefs and warriors assembled according to orders, and to them was stated the
object of my visit. They were asked: "Do you know who this man is?"

"Yes, we know him well," replied one, "that is Pa-he-has-ka," (that being my name among the Sioux,
which translated means "Long-Hair") "that is our old enemy;" a great many of the Indians, who were
with Spotted Tail at this time, had been driven out of the Republican country.

"That is he," said Spotted Tail. "I want all my people to be kind to him and treat him as my friend."

I noticed that several of them were looking daggers at me. They appeared as if they wished to raise
my hair then and there. Spotted Tail motioned and I followed him into his lodge, and thereupon the
Indians dispersed Having the assurance of Spotted Tail that none of the young men would follow me
I started back for the Red Willow, arriving the second night.

There I found Captain Egan with a company of the second Cavalry and a wagon train loaded with
tents, grain, provisions, etc. The men were leveling off the ground and were making preparations to
put up large wall tents for the Grand Duke Alexis and his suite, and for General Sheridan, his staff
and other officers, and invited guests of the party. Proceeding to Fort McPherson I reported what
had been done. Thereupon Quartermaster Hays selected from the five or six hundred horses in his
charge seventy-five of the very best, which were sent to the Red Willow, to be used by Alexis and
his party at the coming hunt. In a day or two a large supply of provisions, liquors, etc., arrived from
Chicago, together with bedding and furniture for the tents; all of which were sent over to Camp
Alexis. 

 

ARRIVAL OF THE GRAND DUKE
At last, on the morning of the 12th of January, 1872, the Grand Duke and party arrived at North
Platte by special train, in charge of a Mr. Francis Thompson. Captain Hays and myself, with five or
six ambulances, fifteen or twenty extra saddle horses and a company of cavalry under Captain Egan,
were at the depot in time to receive them. Presently General Sheridan and a large, fine looking young
man, whom we at once concluded to be the Grand Duke, came out of the cars and approached us.
General Sheridan at once introduced me to the Grand Duke as Buffalo Bill, for he it was, and said
that I was to take charge of him and show him how to kill buffalo.

In less than half an hour the whole party were dashing away towards the south, across the South
Platte and towards the Medicine, upon reaching which point we halted for a change of horses and a
lunch. Resuming our ride we reached Camp Alexis in the afternoon. General Sheridan was well
pleased with the arrangements that had been made and was delighted to find that Spotted Tail and his
Indians had arrived on time. They were objects of great curiosity to the Grand Duke, who spent
considerable time in looking at them, and watching their exhibitions of horsemanship, sham fights,
etc. That evening the Indians gave the grand war dance, which I had arranged for.

 

GlVlNG DUKE ALEXIS THE CUE
General Custer, who was one of the hunting party, carried on a mild fiirtation with one of Spotted
Tail's daughters, who had accompanied her father thither, and it was noticed also that the Duke
Alexis paid considerable attention to another handsome red-skin maiden. The night passed
pleasantly, and all retired with great expectations of having a most enjoyable and successful buffalo
hunt. The Duke Alexis asked me a great many questions as to how we shot buffaloes, and what kind
of a gun or pistol we used, and if he was going to have a good horse. I told him that he was going to
have my celebrated buffalo horse Buckskin Joe, and when we went into a buffalo herd all he would
have to do was to sit on the horse's back and fire away.

At nine o'clock next morning we were all in our saddles and in a few minutes were galloping over the
prairies in search of a buffalo herd. We had not gone far before we observed a herd some distance
ahead of us crossing our way; after that we proceeded cautiously, so as to keep out of sight until we
were ready to make a charge.

In a moment the Duke became very much excited and anxious to charge directly toward the
buffaloes, but I restrained him for a time, until getting around to windward and keeping behind the
sand hills the herd was gradually approached.

"Now," said I, "is your time; you must ride as fast as your horse will go, and don't shoot until you
get a good opportunity."

Away we went, tearing down the hill and throwing up a sandstorm in the rear, leaving the Duke's
retinue far behind. When within a hundred yards of the fleeing buffaloes the Duke fired, but
unfortunately missed, being unused to shooting from a running horse. 

I now rode up close beside him and advised him not to fire until he could ride directly upon the flank
of a buffalo, as the sport was most in the chase. We dashed off together and ran our horses on
either flank of a large bull, a g a i n s t the side of which the Duke thrust his gun and fired a fatal shot.
He was very much elated at his success, taking off his cap and waving it vehemently, at the same
time shouting to those who were fully a mile in the rear. When his retinue came up there were
congratulations and every one drank to his good health with over-flowing glasses of champagne. The
hide of the dead buffalo was carefully removed and dressed, and the royal traveler in his journeying
over the world has no doubt often rested himself upon this trophy of his skill ( ?) on the plains of
America. 

An encampment was now made, as the party was quite fatigued, and the evening passed with song
and story. On the following day, by request of Spotted Tail, the Grand Duke hunted for a while
beside "Two Lance," a celebrated chief, who claimed he could send an arrow entirely through the
body of the largest buffalo. This feat seemed so incredulous that there was a general denial of his
ability to perform it; nevertheless, the Grand Duke and also several others who accompanied the
chief, witnessed, with profound astonishment, an accomplishment of the feat, and the arrow that
passed through the buffalo was given to the Duke as a memento of Two Lance's skill and power. On
the same day of this performance the Grand Duke killed a buffalo at a distance of one hundred paces
with a heavy navy revolver. The shot was a marvelous &emdash;scratch.

When the Grand Duke was satisfied with the sport, orders were given for the return to the railroad.
The conveyance provided for the Grand Duke and General Sheridan was a heavy double-seated
open carriage, or rather an Irish dog-cart, and it was drawn by six spirited cavalry horses which were
not much used to the harness. The driver was Bill Reed, an old overland stage driver and
wagon-master; on our way in, the Grand Duke frequently expressed his admiration of the skillful
manner in which Reed handled the reins. General Sheridan informed the Duke that I also had been a
stage driver in the Rocky Mountains, and thereupon His Royal Highness expressed a desire to see
me drive. I was in advance at the time, and General Sheridan sang out to me:

"Cody, get in here and show the Duke how you can drive. Mr. Reed will exchange places with you
and ride your horse."

"All right, General," said I, and in a few moments I had the reins and we were rattling away over the
prairie. When we were approaching Medicine creek, General Sheridan said: "Shake 'em up a little
Bill, and give us some old-time stage driving."

 

GIVING THE DUKE A SHAKING UP
I gave the horses a crack or two of the whip, and they started off at a very rapid gait. They had a
light load to pull, and kept increasing their speed at every jump, and I found it difficult to hold them.
They fairly flew over the ground, and at last we reached a steep hill, or divide, which led down into
the valley of the Medicine. There was no brake on the wagon, and the horses were not much on the
hold back. I saw that it would be impossible to stop them. All I could do was to keep them straight
in the track and let them go it down the hill, for three miles, which distance, I believe, was made in
about six minutes. Every once in a while the hind wheels would strike a rut and take a bound, and not
touch the ground again for fifteen or twenty feet. The Duke and the General were kept rather busy in
holding their positions on the seats, and when they saw that I was keeping the horses straight in the
road, they seemed to enjoy the dash which we were making. I was unable to stop the team until they
ran into the camp where we were to obtain a fresh relay, and there I succeeded in checking them.
The Grand Duke said he didn't want any more of that kind of driving, as he preferred to go a little
slower.

On arriving at the railroad, the Duke invited me into his car, and made me some valuable presents, at
the same time giving me a cordial invitation to visit him, if ever I should come to his country. At the
same time General Sheridan took occasion to remind me of an invitation to visit New York which I
had received from some of the gentlemen who accompanied the General on the hunt from Fort
McPherson to Hays City, in September of the previous year. Said he: "You will never have a better
opportunity to accept that invitation than now. I have had a talk with General Ord concerning you,
and he will give you leave of absence whenever you are ready to start. Write a letter to general
Stager, of Chicago, that you are now prepared to accept the invitation, and he will send you a pass."
Thanking the GeneraI for his kindness, I then bade him and the Grand Duke good-bye, and soon
their train was out of sight.


CHAPTER XVIII
SCOUTING IN A SWALLOW-TAIL OUTFIT
General Ord, commanding the Department of the Platte at the time, and who had been out on the
Alexis hunt, had some business to attend to at Fort McPherson, and I accepted his invitation to ride
over to the post with him in an ambulance. On the way thither he asked me how I would like to have
an officer's commission in the regular army. He said that General Sheridan and himself had had some
conversation about the matter, and if I wanted a commission, one could easily be procured for me. I
thanked General Ord for his kindness, and said that although an officer's commission in the regular
army was a tempting prize, yet I preferred to remain in the position I was then holding. He concluded
by stating that if at any time I should wish a commission, all that I would have to do to secure it
would be to inform him of my desire.

Having determined to visit New York, I acted upon General Sheridan's suggestion and wrote to
General Stager, from whom in a few days I received my railroad passes. Obtaining thirty days' leave
of absence from the department, I struck out for the East. On arriving in Chicago, in February, 1872,
I was met at the depot by Colonel M. V. Sheridan, who said that his brother, the General, had not
yet returned, but had sent word that I was to be his and the Colonel's guest, at their house, while I
renained in Chicago.

I spent two or three days very pleasantly in the great city of the West, meeting several gentlemen who
had been out on the Sheridan hunt in September: General Stager, Colonel Wilson, editor of the
Journal; Mr. Sam Johnson, General Rucker and others, by all of whom I was most cordially received
and well entertained. I was introduced to quite a number of the best people of the city, and was
invited to several "swell" dinners. I also accompanied General Sheridan &emdash;who meantime had
returned to the city &emdash;to a ball at Riverside, an aristocratic suburb. On this occasion I
became so embarrassed that it was more difficult for me to face the throng of beautiful ladies, than it
would have been to confront a hundred hostile Indians. This was my first trip to the East, and I had
not yet become accustomed to being stared at. And besides this, the hundreds of questions which I
was called upon to answer further embarrassed and perplexed me.

According to the route laid out for me by General Stager, I was to stop at Niagara Falls, Buffalo and
Rochester on my way to New York, and he provided me with all the necessary railroad passes. Just
as I was about to leave Chicago I met Professor Henry A. Ward, of Rochester, for whom during the
previous year or two I had collected a large number of specimens of wild animals. He was on his
way to Rochester, and kindly volunteered to act as my guide until we reached that point. We spent
one day in viewing the wonders of Niagara, and I stopped one day at Rochester and was shown the
beauties of that handsome city by Professor Ward, and I had the honor of receiving an invitation to
dine with the Mayor.

 

A GUEST OF THE UNION CLUB
On arriving at New York I was met at the depot by Mr. J. G. Hecksher, who had been appointed as
"a committee of one" to escort me to the Union Club, where James Gordon Bennett, Leonard W.
Jerome and others were to give me an informal reception, and where I was to make my headquarters
during my visit to the great metropolis. I had an elegant dinner at the club rooms, with the gentlemen
who had been out on the September hunt, and other members of the club.

After dinner, in company with Mr. Hecksher &emdash;who acted as my guide &emdash;I started
out on the trail of my friend, Ned Buntline, whom we found at the Brevoort Place Hotel. He was
delighted to see me, and insisted on my becoming his guest. He would listen to no excuses, and on
introducing me to Messrs. Overton & Blair, proprietors of the Brevoort, they also gave me a
pressing invitation to make my home at their house. I finally compromised the matter by agreeing to
divide my time between the Union Club, the Brevoort House, and Ned Buntline's headquarters.

The next few days I spent in viewing the sights of New York, everything being new and startling,
convincing me that as yet I had seen but a small portion of the world. I received numerous dinner
invitations, as well as invitations to visit different places of amusement and interest; but as they came
In so thick and fast, I soon became badly demoralized and confused. I found I had accepted
invitations to dine at half adozen or more houses on the same day and at the same hour. James
Gordon Bennett had prepared a dinner for me, at which quite a large number of his friends were to
be present, but owing to my confusion, arising from the many other invitations I had received, I
forgot all about it and dined elsewhere. This was "a bad break," but did not learn of my mistake until
next day, when at the Union Club House several gentlemen, among them Lawrence Jerome, inquired
"where in the world I had been," and why I had not put in an appearance at Bennett's dinner. They
said that Bennett had taken great pains to give me a splendid reception, that the party had waited till
nine o'clock for me and that my non-arrival caused considerable disappointment. I apologized as
well as I could by saying that I had been out on a scout and had got lost and had forgotten all about
the dinner, and expressed my regret for the disappointment I had created by my forgetfulness.
August Belmont, the banker, being near, said: "Never mind, gentlemen, I'll give Cody a dinner at my
house."

"Thank you, sir," said I; "I see you are determined that I shall not run short of rations while I am in
the city. I'll be there, sure." Both Mr. Jerome and Mr. Hecksher told me that I must not disappoint
Mr. Belmont, for his dinners were splendid affairs. I made a note of the date, and at the appointed
time I was promptly at Mr. Belmont's mansion, where I spent a very enjoyable evening.

Mr. Bennett, who was among the guests, having forgiven my carelessness, invited me to accompany
him to the Liederkranz masked ball, which was to take place in a few evenings and would be a grand
spectacle. Together we attended the ball and during the evening I was well entertained. The dancers
kept on their masks until midnight, and the merry and motley throng presented a brilliant scene,
moving gracefully beneath the bright gas-light to inspiriting music. To me it was a novel and
entertaining sight, and in many respects reminded me greatly of an Indian war-dance.

Acting upon the suggestion of Mr. Bennett, I had dressed myself in my buckskin suit, and I naturally
attracted considerable attention; especially when I took part in the dancing and exhibited some of my
backwoods steps, which, although not as graceful as some, were a great deal more emphatic. But
when undertook to do artistic dancing, I found I was decidedly out of place in that crowd, and I
accordingly withdrew from the floor.

I occasionally passed an evening at Niblo's Garden, viewing the many beauties of "The Black
Crook," which was then having its long run, under the management of Jarrett & Palmer, whose
acquaintance I had made, and who extended to me the freedom of the theater.

 

MY ALTER EGO ON THE STAGE
Ned Buntline and Fred Maeder had dramatised one of the stories which the former had written about
me for the New York Weekly. The drama was called "Buffalo Bill, the King of Border Men." While I
was in New York it was produced at the Bowery Theater; J. B. Studley, an excellent actor, appearing
in the character of "Buffalo Bill," and Mrs. W. G. Jones, a fine actress, taking the part of my sister, a
leading role. I was curious to see how I would look when represented by some one else, and of
course I was present on the opening night, a private box having been reserved for me. The theater
was packed, every seat being occupied as well as all standing-room. The drama was played
smoothly and created a great deal of enthusiasm.

The audience, upon learning that the real "Buffalo Bill" was present, gave several cheers between the
acts, and I was called on to come out on the stage and make a speech. Mr. Freleigh, the manager,
insisted that I should comply with the request, and that I should be introduced to Mr. Studley. I
finally consented, and the next moment I found myself standing behind the footlights and in front of
an audience for the first time in my life. I looked up, then down, then on each side, and everywhere I
saw a sea of human faces, and thousands of eyes all staring at me. I confess that I felt very much
embarrassed &emdash;never more so in my life &emdash;and I knew not what to say. I made a
desperate effort, and a few words escaped me, but what they were I could not for the life of me tell,
nor could any one else in the house. My utterances were inaudible even to the leader of the orchestra,
Mr. Dean, who was sitting only a few feet in front of me. Bowing to the audience, I beat a hasty
retreat into one of the caons of the stage. I never felt more relieved in my life than when I got out of
the view of that immense crowd.

 

MY FIRST APPEARANCE ON THE STAGE
That evening Mr. Freleigh offered to give me five hundred dollars a week to play the part of "Buffalo
Bill" myself. I thought that he was certainly joking, especially as he had witnessed my awkward
performance; but when he assured me that he was in earnest, I told him that it would be useless for
me to attempt anything of the kind, for I never could talk to a crowd of people like that, even if it
was to save my neck, and that he might as well try to make an actor out of a government mule I
thanked him for the generous offer, which I had to decline owing to a lack of confidence in myself;
or as some people might express it, I didn't have the requisite cheek to undertake a thing of that sort.
The play of "Buffalo Bill" had a very successful run of six or eight weeks, and was afterwards
produced in all the principal cities of the country, everywhere being received with genuine
enthusiasm.

I had been in New York about twenty days when General Sheridan arrived in the city. I met him soon
after he got into town. In answer to a question how I was enjoying myself, I replied that I had struck
the best camp I had ever seen, and if he didn't have any objections I would like to have my leave of
absence extended about ten days. This he willingly did, and then informed me that my services
would soon be required at Fort McPherson, as there was to be an expedition sent out from that
point.

At Westchester, Pennsylvania, I had some relatives living whom I had never seen, and now being so
near, I determined to make them a visit. Upon mentioning the matter to Buntline, he suggested that
we should together take a trip to Philadelphia, and thence run out to Westchester. Accordingly the
next day found us in the "City of Brotherly Love," and in a few hours we arrived at the home of my
uncle, General Henry R. Guss, the proprietor of the Green Tree Hotel, who gave us a cordial
reception.

Inviting us into the parlor, my uncle brought in the members of his family, among them an elderly
lady, who was my grandmother, as he informed me. He told me that my Aunt Eliza, his first wife,
was dead, and that he had married a second time; Lizzie Gust, my cousin, I thought was the most
beautiful girl I had ever seen. They were all very anxious to have us remain several days, but as I had
some business to attend to in New York, I was obliged to return that day. Assuring them, however,
that I would visit them again soon, I bade them adieu, and with Buntline took the train for New York.

The time soon arrived for my departure for the West; so packing up my traps I started for home,
and on the way thither I spent a day with my Westchester relatives, who did everything in their power
to entertain me during my brief stay with them.


CHAPTER XIX
AGAIN ON THE INDIAN TRAIL
Upon reaching Fort McPherson, I found that the Third Cavalry, commanded by General Reynolds,
had arrived from Arizona, in which Territory they had been on duty for some time, and where they
had acquired quite a reputation on account of their Indian fighting qualities. Shortly after my return, a
small party of Indians made a dash on McPherson station, about five miles from the fort, killing two
or three men and running off quite a large number of horses. Captain Meinhold and Lieutenant
Lawson with their company were ordered out to pursue and punish the Indians if possible. I was the
guide of the expedition and had an assistant, T. B. Omohundro, better known as "Texas Jack," and
who was a scout at the post.

Finding the trail, I followed it for two days, although it was difficult trailing because the red-skins had
taken every possible precaution to conceal their tracks. On the second day Captain Meinhold went
into camp on the South fork of the Loupe, at a point where the trail was badly scattered. Six men
were detailed to accompany me on a scout in search of the camp of the fugitives. We had gone but a
short distance when we discovered Indians camped, not more than a mile away, with horses grazing
near by. They were only a small party, and I determined to charge upon them with my six men, rather
than return to the command, because I feared they would see us as we went back and then they
would get away from us entirely. I asked the men if they were willing to attempt it, and they replied
that they would follow me wherever I would lead them. That was the kind of spirit that pleased me,
and we immediately moved forward on the enemy, getting as close to them as possible without being
seen. 

I finally gave the signal to charge, and we dashed into the little camp with a yell. Five Indians sprang
out of a willow tepee, and greeted us with a volley, and we returned the fire. I was riding Buckskin
Joe, who with a few jumps brought me up to the tepee, followed by my men. We nearly ran over the
Indians who were endeavoring to reach their horses on the opposite side of the creek. Just as one
was jumping the narrow stream a bullet from my old "Lucretia " overtook him. He never reached the
other bank, but dropped dead in the water. Those of the Indians who were guarding the horses,
seeing what was going on at the camp, came rushing to the rescue of their friends. I now counted
thirteen braves, but as we had already disposed of two, we had only eleven to take care of. The
odds were nearly two to one against us.

 

A SHARP FIGHT&emdash;WOUNDED
While the Indian re-enforcements were approaching the camp I jumped the creek with Buckskin Joe
to meet them, expecting our party would follow me; but as they could not induce their horses to
make the leap, I was the only one who got over. Ordered the sergeant to dismount his men, leaving
one to hold the horses, and come over with the rest and help me drive the Indians off. Before they
could do this, two mounted warriors closed in on me and were shooting at short range. I returned
their fire and had the satisfaction of seeing one of them fall from his horse. At this moment I felt
blood trickling down my forehead, and hastily running my hand through my hair I discovered that I
had received a scalp wound. The Indian, who had shot me, was not more than ten yards away, and
when he saw his partner tumble from his saddle he turned to run.

By this time the soldiers had crossed the creek to assist me, and were blazing away at the other
Indians. Urging Buckskin Joe forward, I was soon alongside of the chap who had wounded me,
when raising myself in the stirrups I shot him through the head.

The reports of our guns had been heard by Captain Meinhold, who at once started with his company
up the creek to our aid, and when the remaining Indians, whom we were still fighting, saw these
reinforcements coming, they whirled their horses and fled; as their steeds were quite fresh they made
their escape. However, we killed six out of the thirteen Indians, and captured most of their stolen
stock. Our loss was one man killed, and another &emdash;myself &emdash;slightly wounded. One
of our horses was killed, and Buckskin Joe was wounded, but I didn't discover the fact until some
time afterwards, as he had been shot in the breast and showed no signs of having received a scratch
of any kind. Securing the scalps of the dead Indians and other trophies we returned to the fort.

I made several other scouts during the summer with different officers of the Third Cavalry, one being
with Maj. Alick Moore, a good officer, with whom I was out for thirty days. Another long one was
with Major Curtis, with whom I followed some Indians from the South Platte river to Fort Randall on
the Missouri river, in Dakota, on which trip the command ran out of rations and for fifteen days
subsisted entirely upon the game we killed.

 

HUNTING WITH AN EARL
In the fall of 1872 the Earl of Dunraven and Dr. Kingsley, with several friends, came to Fort
McPherson with a letter from General Sheridan, asking me to accompany them on an elk hunt. I did
so, and afterwards spent several weeks in hunting with the Earl of Dunraven, who was a thorough
sportsman and an excel lent hunter. It was while I was out with the Earl that a Chicago party
&emdash;friends of General Sheridan &emdash;arrived at Fort McPherson for the purpose of going
out on a hunt also. They, too, had a letter from the General requesting me to go with them. The Earl
had not yet finished his hunt, but as I had been out with him for several weeks, and he had by this
time learned where to find plenty of elks and other game, I concluded to leave him and accompany
the Chicago party. I informed him of my intention and gave him my reasons for going, at the same
time telling him I would send him one of my scouts, Texas Jack, who was a good hunter, and would
be glad to accompany him. The Earl seemed to be somewhat offended at this, and I don't think he
has ever forgiven me for "going back on him." Let that be as it may, he found Texas Jack a splendid
hunter and guide, and Jack was his guide on several hunts afterwards.

Among the gentlemen who composed the Chicago party were E. P. Green, &emdash;son-in-law of
Remington, the rifle manufacturer, &emdash;Alexander Sample, Mr. Milligan, of the firm of Heath &
Milligan, of Chicago, and several others, whose names I do not now remember. Mr. Milligan was a
man full of life, and was continually "boiling over with fun." He was a regular velocipede, so to
speak, and was here, there, and everywhere. He was exceedingly desirous of having an Indian fight
on the trip, not that he was naturally a blood-thirsty man, but just for variety he wanted a little "Indian
pie." He was in every respect the life of the party, during the entire time that we were out. One day
while he was hunting w ith Sample and myself we came in sight of a band of thirty mounted Indians.

"Milligan, here's what you've been wanting for some time," said I, "for yonder is a war party of
Indians and no mistake; and they'll come for us, you bet."

"I don't believe this is one of my fighting days," replied Milligan, "and it occurs to me that I have
urgent business at the camp."

 

A PARTY WHICH MILLIGAN REFUSED TO ATTEND
Our camp was five or six miles distant on the Dismal river, and our escort consisted of a company
of cavalry commanded by Captain Russell. The soldiers were in camp, and Milligan thought that
Captain Russell ought to be at once notified of the appearance of these Indians.

Knowing that we could reach the camp in safety, for we were well mounted, I continued to have
considerable amusement at Milligan's expense, who finally said:

"Cody, what's making my hat raise up so. I can hardly keep it on my head."

Sample, who was as cool as a cucumber, said to Milligan: "There must be something wrong with
your hair. It must be trying to get on end."

"It's all very fine for you fellows to stand here and talk," replied Milligan, " but I am not doing justice
to my family by remaining. Sample, I think we are a couple of old fools to have come out here, and I
never would have done so if it had not been for you." 

By this time the Indians had discovered us and were holding a consultation, and Milligan turned his
horse in the direction of the camp. I never believed that he was half as scared as he seemed to be,
but that he was merely pretending so that we could enjoy our joke. However, we did not wait any
longer, but rode into camp and notified Captain Russell, who immediately started with his company
to pursue the band. While we were riding along with the company Milligan said to Sample: " Now,
Alick, let them come on. We may yet go back to Chicago covered with glory."

We struck the trail going north. but as we had not come out on a scout for Indians, we concluded
not to follow them; although Milligan was now very anxious to proceed and clean then out. The hunt
came to an end in a day or two, and we escorted the visiting sportsmen to North Platte, where they
took the train for Chicago. Before their departure they extended to me a very cordial invitation to
come to their city on a visit, promising that I should be well taken care of. 

 

ROPING A BUFFALO
Soon after this I had the pleasure of guiding a party of gentlemen from Omaha on a buffalo hunt.
Among the number were Judge Dundy, Colonel Watson B. Smith, and U. S. District Attorney
Neville. We left Fort McPherson in good trim. I was greatly amused at the "style" of Mr. Neville,
who wore a stove-pipe hat and a swallow tail coat, which made up a very comical rig for a buffalo
hunter. As we galloped over the prairie, he jammed his hat down over his ears to keep it from being
shaken off his head, and in order to stick to his horse, he clung to the pommel of his saddle. He was
not much of a rider, and he went bouncing up and down, with his swallow-tails flopping in the air.
The sight I shall never forget, for it was enough to make a "horse laugh," and I actually believe old
Buckskin Joe did laugh. 

However, we had a splendid hunt, and on the second day I lariated or roped, a big buffalo bull and
tied him to a tree, _ a feat which I had often performed, and which the gentlemen requested me to do
on this occasion for their benefit, as they had heard of my skill with the lariat. I captured several
other buffaloes in the same way. The gentlemen returned to Omaha well pleased with their hunt.

In the fall of the year 1872, a convention was held at Grand Island, when some of my friends made
me their candidate to represent the Twenty-sixth District in the Legislature of Nebraska; but as I had
always been a Democrat and the State was largely Republican, I had no idea of being elected. In fact
I cared very little about it, and therefore made no effort whatever to secure an election. However, I
was elected and that is the way in which I acquired my title of Honorable.


CHAPTER XX
AN ACTOR
During the summer and fall of 1872, I received numerous letters from Ned Buntline, urging me to
come East and go upon the stage to represent my own character. "There's money in it," he wrote, "
and you will prove a big card, as your character is a novelty on the stage."

At times I almost determined to make the venture; but the recollection of that night when I stood on
the stage of the Bowery Theater and was unable to utter a word above a whisper, would cause me to
stop and think and become irresolute. I feared that I would be a total failure, and wrote Buntline to
that effect. But he insisted that I would soon get over all that embarrassment, and become
accustomed to the stage, so that I would think no more of appearing before five thousand people
than I would before half a dozen. He proposed to organize a good company, and wished me to meet
him in Chicago, where the opening performance would be given.

I remained undecided as to what I ought to do. The officers at the fort, as well as my family and
friends to whom I had mentioned the matter, laughed at the idea of my ever becoming an actor. That
I, an old scout who had never seen more than twenty or thirty theatrical performances in my life,
should think of going upon the stage, was ridiculous in the extreme &emdash;so they all said.

A few days after my election to the Legislature a happy event occurred in my family circle, in the
birth of a daughter whom we named Ora; about the same time I received another letter from Buntline,
in which he requested me to appear on the stage for a few months as an experiment; and he said that
if I made a failure or did not like the business, I could easily return to my old life.

My two sisters who had been living with us had married &emdash;Nellie, to A. C. Jester, a cattle
man, and May, to Ed. Bradford, a railroad engineer &emdash;and consequently left us; and my wife
had been wishing for a long time to visit her parents in St. Louis. Taking these and other things into
consideration I finally resolved to resign my seat in the Legislature and try my luck behind the
foot-lights. I informed General Reynolds of my determination, telling him at the same time that at the
end of the month, November, I would resign my position under him. The General regretted to hear
this, and advised me not to take the step, for I was leaving a comfortable little home, where I was
sure of making a good living for my family; while, on the other hand, I was embarking upon a sea of
uncertainty. Having once made up my mind, however, nothing could change it.

 

ARRANGING THE PRELIMINARIES
While I was selling my horses and other effects, preparatory to leaving the fort, one of my brother
scouts, Texas Jack, said he would like to accompany me. Now as Jack had also appeared as the
hero in one of Ned Buntline's stories, I thought that he would make as good a "star" as myself, and it
was accordingly arranged that Jack should go with me. On our way east we stopped in Omaha a day
or two to visit General Augur and other officers, and also the gentlemen who were out on the Judge
Dundy Hunt. Judge Dundy and his friends gave a dinner party in my honor at the leading restaurant
and entertained me very handsomely during my stay in the city.

At Omaha I parted with my family, who went to St. Louis, while Jack and myself proceeded to
Chicago. Ned Buntline and Mr. Milligan, having been apprised of our coming by a telegram, met us
at the depot. Mr. Milligan accompanied us to the Sherman house, where he had made arrangements
for us to be his guests while we remained in the city. I didn't see much of Buntline that evening, as he
hurried off to deliver a temperance lecture in one of the public halls. The next day we met him by
appointment, and the first thing he said, was:&emdash;

"Boys, are you ready for business?"

"I can't answer that," replied I, "for we don't know what we are going to do."

"It's all arranged," said he, "and you'll have no trouble whatever. Come with me. We'll go and see
Nixon, manager of the Amphitheater. That's the place where we are to play. We'll open there next
Monday night." Jack and myself accordingly accompanied him to Manager Nixon's office without
saying a word, as we didn't know what to say.

"Here we are, Mr. Nixon," said Buntline; "here are the stars for you. Here are the boys; and they are
a fine pair to draw to. Now, Nixon, I am prepared for business."

Nixon and Buntline had evidently had a talk about the terms of our engagement. Buntline, it seems,
was to furnish the company, the drama, and the pictorial printing, and was to receive sixty per cent
of the gross receipts for his share; while Nixon was to furnish the theater, the attaches, the orchestra,
and the local printing, and receive forty per cent of the gross receipts.

 

NOW, HERE'S A HOW D'DO
"I am ready for you, Buntline. Have you got your company yet?" asked Nixon.

"No, sir; but there are plenty of idle theatrical people in town, and I can raise a company in two
hours," was his reply.

"You haven't much time to spare, if you open on Monday night," said Nixon. "If you will allow me
to look at your dramas to see what kind of people you want, I'll assist you in organising your
company." 

"I have not yet written the drama," said Buntline.

"What the deuce do you mean? This is Wednesday, and you propose to open on next Monday
night. The idea is ridiculous. Here you are at this late hour without a company and without a drama.
This will never do, Buntline. I shall have to break my contract with you, for you can't possibly write
a drama, cast it, and rehearse it properly for Monday night. Furthermore, you have no pictorial
printing as yet. These two gentlemen, whom you have with you, have never been on the stage, and
they certainly must have time to study their parts. It is preposterous to think of opening on Monday
night, and I'll cancel the engagement."

This little speech was delivered in rather an excited manner by Mr. Nixon. Buntline said that he
would write the drama that day and also select his company and have them at the theater for
rehearsal next morning. Nixon laughed at him, and said there was no use of trying to undertake
anything of the kind in so short a time &emdash;it was utterly impossible to do it. Buntline, whose
ire was rising, said to Nixon: "What rent will you ask for your theater for next week?"

"Six hundred dollars," was the reply.

"Well, sir, I'll take your theater for next week at that price, and here is half the amount in advance,"
said Buntline, as he threw down three hundred dollars on the stand. Nixon took the money, gave a
receipt for it, and had nothing more to say.

"Now, come with me boys," said Buntline, and away we went to the hotel. Buntline immediately
obtained a supply of pens, ink and paper, and then engaged all the hotel clerks as penmen. In less
than an hour after he had rented the theater, he was dashing off page after page of his proposed
drama &emdash;the work being done in his room at the hotel. He then set his clerks at copying for
him, and at the end of four hours he jumped up from the table, and enthusiastically shouted; "Hurrah
for 'The Scouts of the Plains!' That's the name of the play. The work is done. Hurrah!"

The parts were then copied off separately by the clerks, and handing us our respective portions
Buntline said: "Now, boys, go to work, and do your level best to have this dead-letter perfect for the
rehearsal, which takes place tomorrow morning at ten o' clock, prompt. I want to show Nixon that
we'll be ready on time."

I looked at my part and then at Jack; and Jack looked at his part and then at me. Then we looked at
each other, and then at Buntline. We did not know what to make of the man.

"How long will it take to commit your part to memory, Bill?" asked Jack.

"About six months, as near as I can calculate. How long will it take you? " answered I.

"It will take me about that length of time to learn the first line," said Jack. Nevertheless we went to
our room and commenced studying. I thought it was the hardest work I had ever done.

"This is dry business," finally remarked Jack.

"That's just what it is," I answered; "jerk the bell, Jack." The bell-boy soon appeared. We ordered
refreshments; after partaking thereof we resumed our task. We studied hard for an hour or two, but
finally gave it up as a bad job, although we had succeeded in committing a small portion to memory.
Buntline now came into the room and said: "Boys, how are you getting along?"

"I guess we'll have to go back on this studying business as it isn't our forte," said I.

"Don't weaken nows Bill; you'll come out on the top of the heap yet. Let me hear you recite your
part," said Buntline. I began "spouting" what I had learned, but was interrupted by Buntline: "Tut!
tut! you're not saying it right. You must stop at the cue."

"Cue! What the mischief do you mean by the cue ? I never saw any cue except in a billiard room,"
said I. Buntline thereupon explained it to me, as well as to Jack, who was ignorant as myself
concerning the "cue" business.

"Jack, I think we had better back out and go to hunting again," said I.

 

THE TIDE TAKEN AT THE FLOOD.
"See here, boys; it won't do to go back on me at this stage of the game. Stick to it, and it may be the
turning point in your lives and lead you on to fortune and to fame."

"A fortune is what we are after, and we'll at least give the wheel a turn or two to see what luck we
have," said I. This satisfied Buntline, but we didn't study any more after he left us. The next morning
we appeared at rehearsal and was introduced to the company. The first rehearsal was hardly a
success; and the succeeding ones were not much better. The stage manager did his best to teach
Jack and myself what to do, but when Monday night come we didn't know much more about it than
when we began.

The clock struck seven, and then we put on our buckskin suits, which were the costumes we were to
appear in. The theater was being rapidly filled, and it was evident that we were going to make our
debut before a packed house. As the minutes passed by, Jack and I became more and more
nervous. We occasionally looked through the holes in the curtain, and saw that the people were
continuing to crowd into the theatre; our nervousness increased to an uncomfortable degree.

When at length the curtain arose, our courage had returned, so that we thought we could face the
immense crowd; yet when the time came for us to go on, we were rather slow in making our
appearance. As we stepped forth we were received with a storm of applause, which we
acknowledged with a bow.

Buntline, who was taking the part of "Cale Durg," appeared, and gave me the "cue" to speak "my
little piece," but for the life of me I could not remember a single word. Buntline saw I was "stuck,"
and a happy thought occurred to him. He said, as if it were in the play: 

 

A LITTLE FUNNY BUSINESS
"Where have you been, Bill? What has kept you so long?"

Just then my eye happened to fall on Mr. Milligan, who was surrounded by his friends, the
newspaper reporters, and several military officers, all of whom had heard of his hunt and "Indian
fight" &emdash;he being a very popular man, and widely known in Chicago. So I said:&emdash;

"I have been out on a hunt with Milligan."

This proved to be a big hit. The audience cheered and applauded, which gave me greater confidence
in my ability to get through the performance all right. Buntline, who was a very versatile man, saw
that it would be a good plan to follow this up and said: "Well, Bill, tell us all about the hunt." I
thereupon proceeded to relate in detail the particulars of the affair. I succeeded in making it rather
funny, and I was frequently interrupted by rounds of applause. Whenever I began to "weaken,"
Buntline would give me a fresh start, by asking some question. In this way I took up fifteen minutes,
without once speaking a word of my part; nor did I speak a word of it during the whole evening. The
prompter, who was standing between the wings, attempted to prompt me, but it did no good; for
while I was on the stage I "chipped in" anything I thought of.

The "Scouts of the Plains" was an Indian drama, of course; and there were between forty and fifty
"supers" dressed as Indians. In the fight with them, Jack and I were at home. We blazed away at
each other with blank cartridges; and when the scene ended in a hand-to-hand encounter &emdash;a
general knockdown and drag-out &emdash;the way Jack and I killed Indians was "a caution." We
would kill them all off in one act, but they would come up again ready for business in the next.
Finally the curtain dropped, the play was ended, and I congratulated Jack and myself on having
made such a brilliant and successful debut. There was no backing out after that. 

 

CRITICISMS OF THE PRESS
The next morning there appeared in the Chicago papers some funny criticisms on our first
performance. The papersgave us a better send-off than I expected, for they did not criticise us as
actors. The Chicago Times said that if Buntline had actually spent four hours in writing that play, it
was difficult for any one to see what he had been doing all the time. Buntline, as "Cale Durg," was
killed in the second act, after a long temperance speech; and the Inter-Ocean said that it was to be
regretted that he bad not been killed in the first act. The company, however, was very good, and
M'dlle. Morlacchi, as "Pale Dove," particularly fine; while Miss Cafarno "spouted" a poem of some
seven hundred and three verses, more or less, of which the reader will be glad to know that I only
recall the words "I was born in March."

Our engagement proved a decided success financially, if not artistically. Nixon was greatly surprised
at the result, and at the end of the week he induced Buntline to take him in as a partner in the
company.

The next week we played at DeBar's Opera House, in St. Louis, doing an immense business. The
following week we were at Cincinnati, where the theater was so crowded every night that hundreds
were unable to obtain admission. We met with equal success all over the country. Theatrical
managers, upon hearing of this new and novel combination, which was drawing such tremendous
houses, were all anxious to secure us; and we received offers of engagements at all the leading
theaters. We played one week at the Boston Theater, and the gross receipts amounted to $16,200.
We also appeared at Niblo's Garden, New York, the theater being crowded to its utmost capacity
every night of the engagement. At the Arch Street Theater, Philadelphia, it was the same way. There
was not a single city where we did not have crowded houses.

We closed our tour on the 16th of June, 1873, at Port Jervis, New York, and when I counted up my
share of the profits I found that I was only about $6,000 ahead. I was somewhat disappointed, for,
judging from our large business, I certainly had expected a greater sum.

Texas Jack and myself longed for a hunt on the Western prairies once more; and on meeting in New
York a party of gentlemen who were desirous of going with us, we all started westward, and after a
pleasant trip arrived at Fort McPherson.

 

LIVELY EXPERIENCES OF WILD BILL
Texas Jack and I spent several weeks hunting in the western part of Nebraska, and after this pleasant
recreation we went to New York and organised a theatrical company for the season of 1873-74.
Among the people we engaged for our next tour was Wild Bill, whose name, we knew, would be a
drawing card. Bill did not think well of our enterprise on account of our unfamiliarity with the stage,
but a large salary forced him to forego his diffidence before the public, and he accordingly made his
debut as an actor. He remained with us during a greater part of the season, much to our advantage,
and would have continued but for a demoralising habit that compelled us to part with him. The habit
to which I refer was that of firing blank cartridges at the legs of the supers, often burning them
severely and at times almost bringing our performance to a ridiculous close. I remonstrated with him
time and again, but all to no purpose, and at last, worn out with expostulations, I reluctantly told him
he must either quit shooting the supers or leave the company. Without making any reply he retired to
the dressing room and there changing his clothes he elbowed his way out through the audience,
leaving word with the stage-carpenter that I could go to thunder with my show. I met him later in the
evening and tried to persuade him to remain with me, but to no avail, and finding him determined
Jack and I paid him his wages and gave him an extra purse of $1,000, with which he bade us
good-bye.

The next I heard of Wild Bill was as a star at the head of a would-be rival organization that soon
went to pieces. Bill left the troupe under the belief that it had disbanded, but he directly after learned
that the company had reorganized and were presenting the same play with an actor personating him.
When Bill ascertained this fact he sent a letter to the manager demanding that the name of Wild Bill
be stricken from the advertisements, but no attention was paid to his objections. Determined to stop
the bogus exhibition Bill went to a town where the company was announced to appear and,
purchasing a ticket, took a seat near the orchestra, ready for business. When the bogus character at
length appeared Bill jumped over the foot lights and seizing his personator, threw him through one of
the scenes, and then knocked down the manager, who was dressed in the disguise of an Indian, and
kicked him over the lights and onto the fellow who was blowing a big horn in the orchestra. The
excitement broke up the performance and Bill was arrested, but was let off with a fine of three
dollars, which he cheerfully paid for so happy a privilege, after which he went West and participated
in several adventures of a thrilling character, a description of which, however, does not properly
belong here.

 

A HUNT WITH MR. MEDLEY
Jack and I played a very successful season, closing at Boston on the 13th of May, 1874. Business
called me to New York, and while attending to several matters preparatory to returning to the West, I
met an English gentleman, Thomas P. Medley, of London, who had come to America for a hunt on
the plains. He had often heard of me and was anxious to engage me as his guide and companion, and
he offered to pay the liberal salary of one thousand dollars a month while I was with him. He was a
very wealthy man, as I learned upon inquiry, and was a relative of Mr. Lord, of the firm of Lord &
Taylor, of New York. Of course I accepted his offer.

When we reached the hunting ground in Nebraska, he informed me, somewhat to my surprise, that
he did not want to go out as Alexis did, with carriages, servants, and other luxuries, but that he
wished to rough it just as I would do &emdash;to sleep on the ground in the open air, and kill and
cook his own meat. We started out from North Platte, and spent several weeks in hunting all over the
country.

Mr. Medley proved to be a very agreeable gentleman and an excellent hunter. While in camp he
busied himself carrying wood and water, attending to the fire, and preparing and cooking the meals,
never asking me to do a thing. He did not perform these menial services to save expenses, but
because he wanted to do as the other hunters in the party were doing. After spending as much time
as he wished, we returned to the railroad, and he took the train for the East. Every. thing that was
required on this hunt was paid for in a most liberal manner by Mr. Medley, who also gave the
members of the party several handsome presents.

About this time an expedition consisting of seven companies of cavalry and two companies of
infantry, to be commanded by Colonel Mills of the Third Cavalry, was being organized to scout the
Powder river and Big Horn country, and I was employed as guide for the command. Proceeding to
Rawlins, Wyoming, we "outfitted," and other guides were engaged &emdash;among them Tom Sun
and Bony Ernest, two noted Rocky mountain scouts. We there left the railroad, and passing through
the Seminole range of the Rocky mountains we established our supply camp at the foot of
Independence Rock on the Sweet Water. I was now on my old familiar stamping ground, and it
seemed like home to me. Fifteen years before, I had ridden the pony express and driven the overland
stages through this region, and the command was going into the same section of country where Wild
Bill's expedition of stage-drivers and express-riders had recaptured from the Indians a large number
of stolen stage-horses, as previously related.

Leaving the infantry to guard the supply camp, Colonel Mills struck out for the north with the seven
companies of cavalry, and in a few days surprised Little Wolf's band of Arapahoes and drove them
into the agencies. We then scouted the Powder river, Crazy Woman's fork, and Clear fork, and then
pushed westward through the mountains to the Wind river. After having been out for a month or two
we were ordered to return.

I immediately went East and organized another dramatic company for the season of 1874-75, Texas
Jack being absent in the Yellowstone country hunting with the Earl of Dunravan. I played my
company in all the principal cities of the country, doing a good business wherever I went. The
summer of 1875 I spent at Rochester with my family.

 

DEATH OF MY ONLY LITTLE BOY
For the season of 1875-76, Texas Jack and I reorganized our old combination, and made a very
successful tour. While we were playing at Springfield, Massachusetts, April 20th and 21st, 1876, a
telegram was handed me just as I was going on the stage. I opened it and found it to be from
Colonel C. W. Torrence, of Rochester, an intimate friend of the family, who stated that my little boy
Kit was dangerously ill with the scarlet fever. This was indeed sad news, for little Kit had always
been my greatest pride. I sent for John Burke, our business manager, and showing him the telegram,
told him that I would play the first act, and making a proper excuse to the audience, I would then
take the nine o'clock train that same evening for Rochester, leaving him to play out my part. This I
did, and at ten o'clock the next morning I arrived in Rochester, and was met at the depot by my
intimate friend Moses Kerngood who at once drove me to my home. I found my little boy unable to
speak but he seemed to recognize me and putting his little arms around my neck he tried to kiss me.
We did everything in our power to save him, but it was of no avail. The Lord claimed his own, and
that evening at six o'clock my beloved little Kit died in my arms. We laid him away to rest in the
beautiful cemetery of Mount Hope amid sorrow and tears.


CHAPTER XXI
SCOUTING WITH THE FIFTH CAVALRY
We closed our theatrical season earlier than usual in the spring of 1876, because I was anxious to
take part in the Sioux war which was then breaking out. Colonel Mills had written me several letters
saying that General Crook was anxious to have me accompany his command, and I promised to do
so, intending to overtake him in the Powder river country. But when I arrived at Chicago, on my way
west, I learned that my old regiment, the gallant Fifth Cavalry was on its way back from Arizona to
join General Crook, and that my old commander, General Carr, was in command. He had written to
military headquarters at Chicago to learn mv whereabouts, as he wished to secure me as his guide
and chief of scouts. I then gave up the idea of overtaking General Crook and hastening on to
Cheyenne, where the Fifth Cavalry had already arrived, I was met at the depot by Lieutenant Iving,
adjutant of the regiment, he having been sent down from Fort D. A. Russell for that purpose by
General Carr, who had learned by a telegram from military headquarters at Chicago that I was on the
way. I accompanied the lieutenant on horseback to the camp, and as we rode, one of the boys
shouted, "Here's Buffalo Bill!" Soon after there came three hearty cheers from the regiment. Officers
and men were all glad to see me, and I was equally delighted to meet them once more. The General
at once appointed me his guide and chief of scouts.

The next morning the command pulled out for Fort Laramie, and on reaching the post we found
General Sheridan there, accompanied by General Frye and General Forsyth, en route to Red Cloud
agency. As the command was to remain here a few days, I accompanied General Sheridan to Red
Cloud and back, taking a company of cavalry as escort.

The Indians having recently committed a great many depredations on the Union Pacific railroad,
destroying telegraph lines, and also on the Black Hills road running off stock, the Fifth Cavalry was
sent out to scout the country between the Indian agencies and the hills. The command operated on
the South fork of the Cheyenne and at the foot of the Black Hills for about two weeks, having
several small engagements with roving bands of Indians during the time. General Wesley Merritt
&emdash;who had lately received his promotion to the Colonelcy of the Fifth Cavalry
&emdash;now came out and took control of the regiment. I was sorry that the command was taken
from General Carr, because under him it had made its fighting reputation. However, upon becoming
acquainted with General Merritt, I found him to be an excellent officer.

 

REPORT OF THE CUSTER MASSACRE 
AND CAUSES LEADING THERETO
The regiment, by continued scouting, soon drove the Indians out of that section of the country, as
we supposed, and we had started on our way back to Fort Laramie, when a scout arrived at the
camp and reported the massacre of General Custer and his band of heroes on the Little Big Horn, on
the 25th of June, 1876: and he also brought orders to General Merritt to proceed at once to Fort
Fetterman and join General Crook in the Big Horn county.

The extraordinary and sorrowful interest attaching to the destruction of Custer and his brave
followers, felt by the whole civilized world, prompts me to give herewith a brief description of the
causes leading thereto, and some of the details of that horrible sacrifice which so melts the heart to
pity.

When the Black Hills gold fever first broke out in 1874, a rush of miners into that country resulted in
much trouble, as the Indians always regarded that region with jealous interest, and resisted all
encroachments of white men. Instead of the Govsrnment adhering to the treaty of 1868 and
restraining white men from going into the Hills, Gen. Custer was sent out, in 1874, to intimidate the
Sioux. The unrighteous spirit of this order the General wisely disregarded, but proceeded to
Prospect Valley, and from there he pushed on to the valley of the Little Missouri. Custer expected to
find good grazing ground in this valley, suitable for a camp which he intended to pitch there for
several days, and reconnoiter, but the country was comparatively barren and the march was therefore
continued to the Belle Fourche valley, where excellent grazing, water, and plenty of wood was found.

Crossing the Fourche the expedition was now among the outIying ranges of the Hills, where a camp
was made and some reconnoitering done; but finding no Indians, Gen. Custer continued his march,
skirting the Black Hills and passing through a country which he described as beautiful beyond
description, abounding with a most luxurious vegetation, cool, crystal streams a profusion of gaudy,
sweet smelling flowers, and plenty of game.

Proceeding down this lovely valley, which he appropriately named Floral Park, an Indian camp-fire,
recently abandoned, was discovered, and fearing a collision unless pains were taken to prevent it,
Custer halted and sent out his chief scout, Bloody Knife, with twenty friendly Indian allies to trail the
departed Sioux. They had gone but a short distance when, as Custer himself relates: "Two of
Bloody Knife's young men came galloping back and informed me that they had discovered five
Indian lodges a few miles down the valley, and that Bloody Knife, as directed, had concealed his
party in a wooded ravine, where they awaited further orders. Taking E company with me, which was
afterward reinforced by the remainder of the scouts and Col. Hart's company, I proceeded to the
ravine where Bloody Knife and his party lay concealed, and from the crest beyond obtained a full
view of the five Indian lodges, about which a considerable number of ponies were grazing. I was
enabled to place my command still nearer to the lodges undiscovered. I then dispatched Agard, the
interpreter, with a flag of truce, accompanied by ten of our Sioux scouts, to acquaint the occupants
of the lodges that we were friendly disposed and desired to communicate with them. To prevent
either treachery or flight on their part, I galloped the remaining portion of my advance and
surrounded the lodges. This was accomplished almost before they were aware of our presence. I
then entered the little village and shook hands with its occupants, assuring them through the
interpreter, that they had no cause to fear, as we were not there to molest them, etc."

Finding there was no disposition on the part of Gen. Custer to harm them, the Indians dispatched a
courier to their principal village, requesting the warriors to be present at a council with the whites.
This council was held on the following day, but though Custer dispensed coffee, sugar, bacon and
other presents to the Indians, his advice to them regarding the occupation of their country by miners
was treated with indifference, for which, he observes in his official report, "I cannot blame the poor
savages."

 

MINERS IN THE BLACK HILLS
During the summer of 1875 Gen. Crook made several trips into the Black Hills to drive out the
miners and maintain the government's faith, but while he made many arrests there was no punishment
and the whole proceeding became farcical. In August of the same year Custer City was laid out and
two weeks later it contained a population of six hundred souls. These Gen. Crook drove out, but as
he marched from the place others swarmed in and the population was immediately renewed.

It was this inability, or real indisposition, of the government to enforce the terms of the treaty of 1868
that led to the bitter war with Sitting Bull and which terminated so disastrously on the 25th of June,
1876.

It is a notorious fact that the Sioux Indians, for four years immediately preceding the Custer
massacre, were regularly supplied with the most improved fire-arms and ammunition by the agencies
at Brule, Grand River, Standing Rock, Fort Berthold, Cheyenne and Fort Peck. Even during the
campaign of 1876, in the months of May, June and July, just before and after Custer and his band of
heroes rode down into the valley of death, these fighting Indians received eleven hundred and twenty
Winchester and Remington rifles and 413,000 rounds of patent ammunition, besides large quantities
of loose powder, lead and primers, while during the summer of 1875 they received several thousand
stand of arms and more than a million rounds of ammunition. With this generous provision there is
no cause for wonder that the Sioux were able to resist the government and attract to their aid all the
dissatisfied Cheyennes and other Indians in the Northwest.

Besides a perfect fighting equipment, all the Indians recognized in Sitting Bull the elements of a great
warrior, one whose superior, perhaps, has never been known among any tribe; he combined all the
strategic cunning of Tecumseh with the cruel, uncompromising hatred of Black Kettle, while his
leadership was far superior to both. Having decided to precipitate a terrible war, he chose his
position with consummate judgment, selecting a central vantage point surrounded by what is known
as the "bad lands," and then kept his supply source open by an assumed friendship with the
Canadian French. This he was the better able to accomplish, since some years before he had
professed conversion to Christianity under the preaching of Father DeSmet and maintained a show
of great friendship for the Canadians.

 

WAR DECLARED AGAINST THE SIOUX
War against the Sioux having been declared, brought about by the combined causes of Black Hill
outrages and Sitting Bull's threatening attitude, it was decided to send out three separate expeditions,
one of which should move from the north, under Gen. Terry, from Fort Lincoln; another from the
east, under Gen. Gibbon, from Fort Ellis, and another from the south, under Gen. Crook, from Fort
Fetterman; these movements were to be simultaneous, and a junction was expected to be formed
near the headwaters of the Yellowstone river.

For some cause, which I will refrain from discussing, the commands did not start at the same time.
Gen. Crook did not leave Fetterman until March 1st, with seven hundred men and forty days'
supply. The command was intrusted to Col. Reynolds, of the Third Cavalry, accompanied by Gen.
Crook, the department commander. Nothing was heard of this expedition until the 22d following,
when Gen. Crook forwarded from Ft. Reno a brief account of his battle on Powder river. The result
of this fight, which lasted five hours, was the destruction of Crazy Horse's village of one bundred
and five lodges; or that is the way the dispatch read, though many assert that the battle resulted in
little else than a series of remarkable blunders which suffered the Indians to make good their escape,
losing only a small quantity of their property.

One serious trouble arose out of the Powder river fight, which was found in an assertion made by
Gen. Crook, or at least attributed to him, that his expedition had proved that instead of there being
15,000 or 20,000 hostile Indians in the Black Hills and Big Horn county, that the total number would
not exceed 2,000. It was upon this estimation that the expeditions were prepared.

The Terry column, which was commanded by Gen. Custer, consisted of twelve companies of the
Seventh Cavalry, and three companies of the Sixth and Seventeenth Infantry, with four Gatling guns,
and a detachment of Indian scouts. This force comprised twenty-eight officers and seven hundred
and forty-seven men, of the Seventh Cavalry, eight officers and one hundred and thirty-five men of
the Sixth and Seventeenth Infantry, two officers and thirty-two men in charge of the Gatling battery,
and forty-five enlisted Indian scouts, a grand total of thirty-eight officers and nine hundred and
fifty-nine men, including scouts.

The combined forces of Crook, Gibbon, Terry and Custer, did not exceed tweety-seven hundred
men, while opposed to them were fully 17,000 Indians, all of whom were provided with the latest and
most improved patterns of repeating rifles.

On the 16th of June Gen. Crook started for the Rosebud, on which stream it was reported that
Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were stationed; about the same time a party of Crow Indians, who were
operating with Gen. Crook, returned from a scout and reported that Gen. Gibbon, who was on
Tongue river, had been attacked by Sitting Bull, who had captured several horses Crook pushed on
rapidly toward the Rosebud, leaving his train behind and mounting his infantry on mules. What were
deemed accurate reports, stated that Sitting Bull was still on the Rosebud, only sixty miles from the
point where Gen. Crook camped on the night of the 15th of June. The command traveled forty miles
on the sixteenth, and when within twenty miles of the Sioux' principal position, instead of pushing
on, Gen. Crook went into camp.

 

ATTACKED BY SITTING BULL
The next morning he was much surprised at finding himself attacked by Sitting Bull, who swooped
down on him with the first streaks of coming dawn, and a heavy battle followed. Gen. Crook, who
had camped in a basin surrounded on all sides by high hills, soon found his position so dangerous
that it must be changed at all hazards. The advance was therefore sounded with Noyes' battalion
occupying a position on the right, Mills on the right center, Chambers in the center, and the Indian
allies on the left. Mills and Noyes charged the enemy in magnificent style, breaking the line and
striking the rear. The fight continued hot and furious until 2 P. M., when a gallant charge of Col.
Royal, who was in reserve, supported by the Indian allies, caused the Sioux to draw off to their
village, six miles distant, while Gen. Crook went into camp, where he remained inactive for two days.

In the meantime, as the official report recites: "Generals Terry and Gibbon communicated with each
other June 1st, near the junction of the Tongue and Yellowstone rivers, and learned that a heavy
force of Indians had concentrated on the opposite bank of the Yellowstone, but eighteen miles
distant. For fourteen days the Indian pickets had confronted Gibbon's videttes."

Gen. Gibbon reported to Gen. Terry that the cavalry had thoroughly scouted the Yellowstone as far
as the mouth of the Big Horn, and no Indians had crossed it. It was now certain that they were not
prepared for them, and on the Powder, Tongue, Rosebud, Little Horn and Big Horn rivers, Gen.
Terry at once commenced feeling for them. Major Reno, of the Seventh Cavalry, with six companies
of that regiment, was sent up Powder river one hundred and fifty miles, to the mouth of Little
Powder to look for the Indians, and, if possible to communicate with General Crook. He reached the
mouth of the Little Powder in five days, but saw no Indians, and could hear nothing of Crook. As he
returned, he found on the Rosebud a very large Indian trail, about nine days old, and followed it a
short distance, when he turned about up Tongue river, and reported to Gen. Terry what he had seen.
It was now known that no Indians were on either Tongue or Little Powder rivers, and the net had
narrowed down to Rosebud, Little Horn and Big Horn rivers.

Gen. Terry, who had been waiting with Custer and the steamer Far West, at the mouth of Tongue
river, for Reno's report, as soon as he heard it, ordered Custer to march up the south bank to a point
opposite Gen. Gibbon, who was encamped on the north bank of the Yellowstone. Accordingly
Terry, on board the steamer Far West, pushed up the Yellowstone, keeping abreast of Gen. Custer's
column.

Gen. Gibbon was found in camp quietly awaiting developments. A consultation was had with Gens.
Gibbon and Custer, and then Gen. Terry definitely fixed upon the plan of action. It was believed the
Indians were at the head of the Rosebud, or over on the Little Horn, a dividing ridge only fifteen
miles wide separating the two streams. It was announced by Gen. Terry that Gen. Custer's column
"would strike the blow."

At the time that a junction was formed between Gibbon and Terry, Gen. Crook was about one
hundred miles from them, while Sitting Bull's forces were between the commands. Crook, after his
battle, fell back to the head of Tongue river. The Powder, Tongue, Rosebud and Big Horn rivers all
flow northwest, and empty into the Yellowstone; as Sitting Bull was between the headwaters of the
Rosebud and Big Horn, the main tributary of the latter being known as the Little Big Horn, a
sufficient knowledge of the topography of the country is thus afforded by which to definitely locate
Sitting Bull and his forces.

Having now ascertained the position of the enemy, or reasoned out the probable position, Gen.
Terry sent a dispatch to Gen. Sheridan, as follows: "No Indians have been met with as yet, but
traces of a large and recent camp have been discovered twenty or thirty miles up the Rosebud.
Gibbon's column will move this morning on the north side of the Yellowstone, for the mouth of the
Big Horn, where it will be ferried across by the supply steamer, and whence it will proceed to the of
the Little Horn, and so on. Custer will go up the Rosebud tomorrow with his whole regiment, and
thence to the headwaters of the Little Horn, thence down that stream."

Following this report came an order, signed by E. W. Smith, Captain of the Eighteenth Infantry,
Acting Assistant Adjutant-General, directing General Custer to follow the Indian trail discovered,
pushing the Indians from one side while Gen. Gibbon pursued them from an opposite direction. As
no instructions were given as to the rate each division should travel, Custer, noted for his quick,
energetic movements, made ninety miles the first three days, and, discovering the Indians in large
numbers, divided his command into three divisions, one of which he placed under Major Reno,
another under Major Benteen, and led the other himself.

 

CUSTER STRIKES THE INDIANS
As Custer made a detour to enter the village, Reno struck a large body of Indians, who, after
retreating nearly three miles turned on the troops and ran them pell mell across Grassy creek into the
woods. Reno over-estimated the strength of his enemies and thought he was being surrounded.
Benteen came up to the support of Reno, but he too took fright and got out of his posltion without
striking the enemy. 

While Reno and Benteen were trying to keep open a way for their retreat, Custer charged on the
village, first sending a courier, Trumpeter Martin, to Reno and Benteen with the following dispatch: "
Big village; be quick; send on the packs." This order was too plain to be misconstrued. It clearly
meant that he had discovered the village, which he intended attacking at once; to hurry forward to his
support and bring up the packs; ambulances, etc. But instead of obeying orders, Reno and Benteen
stood aloof, fearful lest they should endanger their position, while the brave Custer and his squad of
noble heroes rushed down like a terrible avalanche upon the Indian village. In a moment, fateful
incident, the Indians came swarming about that heroic band until the very earth seemed to open and
let loose the elements of volcanic fury, or like a riot of the fiends of Erebus, blazing with the hot
sulphur of their impious dominion. Down from the hillside, up through the valleys, that dreadful
torrent of Indian cruelty and massacre poured around the little squad to swallow it up with one grand
swoop of fire. But Custer was there at the head, like Spartacus fighting the legions about him, tall,
graceful, brave as a lion at bay, and with thunderbolts in his hands. His brave followers formed a
hollow square, and met the rush, and roar, and fury of the demons. Bravely they breasted that battle
shock, bravely stood up and faced the leaden hail, nor quailed when looking into the blazing muzzles
of five thousand deadly rifles.

 

HOPING AGAINST HOPE
Brushing away the powder grimes that had settled in his face, Custer looked over the boiling sea of
fury around him, peering through the smoke for some signs of Reno and Benteen, but seeing none
yet thinking of the aid which must soon come, with cheering words to his comrades, he renewed the
battle, fighting still like a Hercules and piling heaps of victims around his very feet.

Hour after hour passed and yet no friendly sign of Reno's coming; nothing to be seen saving the
battle smoke, streaks of fire splitting through the misty clouds, blood flowing in rivulets under
tramping feet, dying comrades, and Indians swarming about him, rending the air with their
demoniacal "hi-yi-yip-yah,&emdash;yah-hi-yah."

 

T1IE MASSACRE.
The fight continued with unabated fury until late in the afternoon; men had sunk down beside their
gallant leader until there was but a handful left, only a dozen, bleeding from many wounds and hot
carbines in their stiffening hands. The day is almost done, when look! heaven now defend him! the
charm of his life is broken, for Custer has fallen; a bullet cleaves a pathway through his side, and as
he falters another strikes his noble breast. Like a strong oak stricken by the lightning's bolt, shivering
the mighty trunk and bending its withering branches down close to the earth, so fell Custer; but like
the reacting branches, he rises partly up again, and striking out like a fatally wounded giant lays three
more Indians dead and breaks his mighty sword on the musket of a fourth; then, with useless blade
and empty pistol falls back the victim of a dozen wounds. He is the last to succumb to death, and
dies, too, with the glory of accomplished duty on his conscience and the benediction of a grateful
country on his head. The place where fell these noblest of God's heroes is sacred ground, and
though it be the Golgotha of a nation's mistakes it is bathed with precious blood, rich with the germs
of heroic inheritance.

I have avoided attaching blame to any one, using only the facts that have been furnished me of how
Custer came to attack the Sioux village and how and why he died.

When the news of the terrible massacre was learned, soldiers everywhere made a pilgrimage to the
sacred place, and friendly hands reared a monument on that distant spot commemorative of the
heroism of Custer and his men; collected together all the bones and relics of the battle and piled
them up in pyramidal form, where they stand in sunshine and storm, overlooking the Little Big Horn.

Soon after the news of Custer's massacre reached us preparations were immediately made to avenge
his death. The whole Cheyenne and Sioux tribes were in revolt and a lively, if not very dangerous,
campaign was in prospective.

 

AFTER THE MURDERERS OF CUSTER
Two days before receipt of the news of the massacre, Colonel Stanton, who was with the Fifth
Cavalry, had been sent to Red Cloud agency and on the evening of the receipt of news of the Custer
fight a scout arrived in our camp with a message from the Colonel informing General Merritt that
eight hundred Cheyenne warriors had that day left Red Cloud agency to join Sitting Bull's hostile
forces in the Big Horn country.

Notwithstanding the instructions to proceed immediately to join General Crook by the way of Fort
Fetterman, Colonel Merritt took the responsibility of endeavoring to intercept the Cheyennes, and as
the sequel shows he performed a very important service.

He selected five hundred men and horses, and in two hours we were making a forced march back to
Hat, or War Bonnet creek &emdash;the intention being to reach the main Indian trail running to the
north across that creek before the Cheyennes could get there. We arrived there the next night, and at
daylight the following morning, July 17th, 1876, I went out on a scout, and found that the Indians
had not yet crossed the creek. On my way back to the command I discovered a large party of
Indians, which proved to be the Cheyennes, coming up from the south, and I hurried to the camp
with this important information.

The cavalrymen quietly mounted their horses, and were ordered to remain out of sight, while general
Merritt, accompanied by two or three aides and myself, went out on a little tour of observation to a
neighboring hill, from the summit of which we saw that the Indians were approaching almost directly
towards us. Presently fifteen or twenty of them dashed off to the west in the direction from which we
had come the night before; and upon closer observation with our field glasses, we discovered two
mounted soldiers, evidently carrying dispatches for us, pushing forward on our trail.

 

MY DUEL WITH YELLOW HAND
The Indians were evidently endeavoring to intercept these two men, and General Merritt feared that
they would accomplish their object. He did not think it advisable to send out any soldiers to the
assistance of the couriers, for fear they would show to the Indians that there were troops in the
vicinity who were waiting for them. I finally suggested that the best plan was to wait until the couriers
came closer to the command, and then just as the Indians were about to charge, to let me take the
scouts and cut them off from the main body of the Cheyennes, who were coming over the divide.

"All right, Cody," said the General, "if you can do that go ahead."

I rushed back to the command, jumped on my horse, picked out fifteen men, and returned with them
to the point of observation. I told General Merritt to give us the word to start out at the proper time,
and presently he sang out:

"Go in now, Cody, and be quick about it. They are going to charge on the couriers."

The two messengers were not over four hundred yards from us, and the Indians were only about
two hundred yards behind them. We instantly dashed over the bluffs, and advanced on a gallop
towards the Indians. A running fight lasted several minutes, during which we drove the enemy some
little distance and killed three of their number. The rest of them rode off towards the main body,
which had come into plain sight, and halted, upon seeing the skirmish that was going on. We were
about half a mile from General Merritt, and the Indians whom we were chasing suddenly turned upon
us, and another lively skirmish took place. One of the Indians, who was handsomely decorated with
all the ornaments usually worn by a war chief when engaged in a fight, sang out to me, in his own
tongue: "I know you, Pa-he-haska; if you want to fight, come ahead and fight me."

The chief was riding his horse back and forth in front of his men, as if to banter me, and I concluded
to accept the challenge. I galloped towards him for fifty yards and he advanced towards me about
the same distance, both of us riding at full speed, and then, when we were only about thirty yards
apart, I raised my rifle and fired; his horse fell to the ground, having been killed by my bullet. Almost
at the same instant my own horse went down, he having stepped into a gopher hole. The fall did not
hurt me much, and I instantly sprang to my feet. The Indian had also recovered himself, and we were
now both on foot, and not more than twenty paces apart. We fired at each other simultaneously. My
usual luck did not desert me on this occasion, for his bullet missed me, while mine struck him in the
breast. He reeled and fell, but before he had fairly touched the ground I was upon him, knife in hand,
and had driven the keen-edged weapon to its hilt in his heart. Jerking his war-bonnet off, I
scientifically scalped him in about five seconds.

 

A MOMENT OF GREAT DANGER.
The whole affair from beginning to end occupied but little time, and the Indians, seeing that I was
some little distance from my company, now came charging down upon me from a hill, in hopes of
cutting me off. General Merritt had witnessed the duel, and realizing the danger I

was in, ordered Colonel Mason with Company K to hurry to my rescue. The order came none too
soon, for had it been given one minute later I would have had not less than two hundred Indians
upon me. As the soldiers came up I swung the Indian chieftain's top-knot and bonnet in the air, and
shouted:&emdash;

"The first scalp for Custer."

General Merritt, seeing that he could not now ambush the Indians, ordered the whole regiment to
charge upon them. They made a stubborn resistance for a little while, but it was of no use for any
eight hundred, or even sixteen hundred Indians to try and check a charge of the gallant old Fifth
Cavalry, and they soon came to that conclusion and began a running retreat towards Red Cloud
agency. For thirty-five miles we drove them pushing them so hard that they were obliged to abandon
their loose horses, their camp equipage and everything else. We drove them into the agency, and
followed in ourselves, notwithstanding the possibility of our having to encounter the thousands of
Indians at that point. We were uncertain whether or not the other agency Indians had determined to
follow the example of the Cheyennes and strike out upon the war-path; but that made no difference
with the Fifth Cavalry, for they would have fought them all if necessary. It was dark when we rode
into the agency, where we found thousands of Indians collected together; but they manifested no
disposition to fight.

While at the agency I learned the name of the Indian chief whom I had killed in the morning; it was
Yellow Hand, a son of old Cut-Nose &emdash;a leading chief of the Cheyennes. Cut-nose having
learned that I had killed his son sent a white interpreter to me with a message to the effect that he
would give me four mules if I would turn over to him Yellow Hand's war-bonnet, guns, pistols,
ornaments, and other paraphernalia which I had captured. I sent back word to the old gentleman that
it would give me pleasure to accommodate him, but I could not do it this time.

 

AGAIN IN PURSUIT OF THE SIOUX.
The next morning we started to join General Crook, who was camped near the foot of Cloud Peak in
the Big Horn mountains, awaiting the arrival of the Fifth Cavalty, before proceeding against the
Sioux, who were somewhere near the head of the Little Big Horn, &emdash;as his scouts informed
him. We made rapid marches and reached General Crook's camp on Goose creek about the 3d of
August.

At this camp I met many old friends, among whom was Colonel Royall, who had received his
promotion to the Lieutenant-Colonelcy of the Third Cavalry. He introduced me to General Crook,
whom I had never met before, but of whom I had often heard. He also introduced me to the
General's chief guide, Frank Grouard, a half breed, who had lived six years with Sitting Bull, and
knew the country thoroughly. 

We remained in this camp only one day, and then the whole troop pulled out for the Tongue river,
leaving our wagons behind, but taking with us a large pack train. We marched down the Tongue river
for two days, thence in a westerly direction over to the Rosebud, where we struck the main Indian
trail, leading down this stream. From the size of the trail, which appeared to be about four days old,
we estimated that there must have been in the neighborhood of seven thousand Indians in the war
party.

For two or three days we pushed on, but we did not seem to gain much on the Indians, as they were
evidently making about the same marches that we were. On the fourth or fifth morning of our pursuit,
I rode ahead of the command about ten miles, and mounting a hill I scanned the country far and wide
with my field glass, and discovered an immense column of dust rising about ten miles further down
the creek, and soon I noticed a body of men marching towards me, that at first I believed to be the
Indians of whom we were in pursuit; but subsequently they proved to be General Terry's command.
I sent back word to that effect to General Crook, by a scout who had accompanied me, but after he
had departed I observed a band of Indians on the opposite side of the creek, and also another party
directly in front of me. This led me to believe that I had made a mistake. But shortly afterwards my
attention was attracted by the appearance of a body of soldiers, who were forming into a skirmish
line, and then I became convinced that it was General Terrify command after all, and that the
red-skins whom I had seen were some of his friendly Indian scouts, who had mistaken me for a
Sioux, and fled back to their command terribly excited, shouting, "The Sioux are coming!"

 

A LITTLE DUST CAUSES MUCH EXCITEMENT.
General Terry at once came to the post, and ordered the Seventh Cavalry to form line of battle
across the Rosebud; he also ordered up his artillery and had them prepare for action, doubtless
dreading another "Custer massacre." I afterwards learned the Indian had seen the dust raised by
General Crook's forces and had reported that the Sioux were coming.

These manoeuvres I witnessed from my position with considerable amusement, thinking the
command must be badly demoralized, when one man could cause a whole army to form line of
battle and prepare for action. Having enjoyed the situation to my heart's content, I galloped down
towards the skirmish line, waving my hat and when within about one hundred yards of the troops,
Colonel Weir, of the Seventh Cavalry, galloped out and met me. He recognised me at once, and
accompanied me inside the line; then he sang out, "Boys, here's Buffalo Bill. Some of you old
soldiers know him; give him a cheer!" Thereupon the regiment gave three rousing cheers, and it was
followed up all along the line.

Colonel Weir presented me to General Terry, and in answer to his question I informed him that the
alarm of Indians which had been given was a false one, as the dust seen by his scouts was caused by
General Crook's troops. General Terry thereupon rode forward to meet General Crook, and I
accompanied him at his request. That night both commands went into camp on the Rosebud.
General Terry had his wagon train with him, and everything to make life comfortable on an Indian
campaign. He had large wall tents and portable beds to sleep in, and commodious hospital tents for
dining-rooms. His camp looked very comfortable and attractive, and presented a great contrast to
that of General Crook, who had for his headquarters only one small fly tent; and whose cooking
utensils consisted of a quart cup &emdash;in which he made his coffee himself &emdash;and a stick
upon which he broiled his bacon. When I compared the two camps, I came to the conclusion that
General Crook was an Indian fighter; for it was evident that he had learned that, to follow and fight
Indians, a body of men must travel lightly and not be detained by a wagon train or heavy luggage of
any kind.

That evening General Terry ordered General Mills to take his regiment, the Fifth Infantry, and return
by a forced march to the Yellowstone, and proceed down the river by steamboat to the mouth of
Powder river, to intercept the Indians, in case they attempted to cross the Yellowstone. General
Miles made a forced march that night of thirty-five miles, which was splendid traveling for an infantry
regiment through a mountainous country.

Generals Crook and Terry spent that evening and the next day in council, and on the following
morning both commands moved out on the Indian trail. Although General Terry was the senior
officer, he did not assume command of both expeditions, but left General Crook in command of his
own troops, although they operated together. We crossed the Tongue river to Powder river, and
proceeded down the latter stream to a point twenty miles from its junction with the Yellowstone,
where the Indian trail turned to the southeast in the direction of the Black Hills. The two commands
now being nearly out of supplies, the trail was abandoned, and the troops kept on down Powder
river to its confluence with the Yellowstone, and remained there several days. Here we met General
Mills, who reported that no Indians had as yet crossed the Yellowstone. Several steamboats soon
arrived with a large quantity of supplies, and once more the "Boys in Blue" were made happy.


CHAPTER XXII
DANGEROUS WORK
One evening while we were in camp on the Yellowstone at the mouth of Powder river, I was
informed that the commanding officer had selected Louis Richard, a half breed and myself to
accompany General Mills on a souting expedition on the steamer Far West, down the Yellowstone
as far as Glendive creek. We were to ride on the pilot house and keep a sharp lookout on both sides
of the river for Indian trails that might have crossed the stream. The idea of scouting on a steamboat
was indeed a novel one to me, and I anticipated a pleasant trip.

At daylight next morning we reported on board the steamer to General Mills, who had with him four
or five companies of his regiment. We were somewhat surprised when he asked us where our horses
were, as we had not supposed that horses would be needed if the scouting was to be done on the
steamer. He said we might need them before we got back, and thereupon we had the animals brought
on board. In a few minutes we were booming down the river at the rate of about twenty miles an
hour.

The steamer Far West was commanded by Captain Grant Marsh, whom I found to be an interesting
character. I had often heard of him, for he was and is yet one of the best known river captains in the
country. He it was who, with his steamer the Far West, transported the wounded men from the battle
of the Little Big Horn to Fort Abraham Lincoln on the Missouri river, and on that trip he made the
fastest steamboat time on record. He was a skillful and experienced pilot, handling his boat with
remarkable dexterity.

While Richard and myself were at our stations on the pilot house, the steamer with a full head of
steam went flying past islands, around bends over sand-bars, at a rate that was exhilarating. Presently
I thought I could see horses grazing in a distant bend of the river and I reported the fact to General
Mills, who asked Captain Marsh if he could land the boat near a large tree which he pointed out to
him. "Yes, sir; I can land her there, and make her climb the tree if necessary," said he.

On reaching the spot designated, General Mills ordered two companies ashore, while Richard and
myself were instructed to take our horses off the boat and push out as rapidly as possible to see if
there were Indians in the vicinity. While we were getting ashore, Captain Marsh remarked that if there
was only a good heavy dew on the grass he would shoot the steamer ashore and take us on the
scout without the trouble of leaving the boat.

It was a false alarm however, as the objects we had seen proved to be Indian graves. Quite a large
number of braves who had probably been killed in some battle, were laid on scaffolds, according to
the Indian custom, and some of their clothing had been torn loose from the bodies by the wolves
and was waving in the air.

On arrivingat Glendive creek we found that Colonel Rice and his company of the Fifth Infantry who
had been sent there by General Mills, had built quite a good little fort with their trowel bayonets
&emdash;a weapon which Colonel Rice was the inventor of, and which is, by the way, a very useful
implement of war, as it can be used for a shovel in throwing up intrenchments and can be profitably
utilized in several other ways. On the day previous to our arrival, Colonel Rice had a fight with a
party of Indians, and had killed two or three of them at long range with his Rodman cannon.

 

A RIDE THROUGH THE BAD LANDS.
The Far West was to remain at Glendive over night, and General Mills wished to send dispatches
back to General Terry at once. At his request I took the dispatches and rode seventy-five miles that
night through the bad lands of the Yellowstone, and reached General Terry's camp next morning,
after having nearly broken my neck a dozen times or more.

There being but little prospect of any more fighting, I determined to go East as soon as possible to
organlze a new "Dramatic Combination," and have a new drama written for me based upon the Sioux
war. This I knew would be a paying investment as the Sioux campaign had excited considerable
interest. So I started down the river on the steamer Yellowstone en route to Fort Beauford. On the
same morning Generals Terry and Crook pulled out for Powder river, to take up the old Indian trail
which we had recently left.

The steamer had proceeded down the stream about twenty miles when it was met by another boat on
its way up the river, having on board General Whistler and some fresh troops for General Terry's
command Both boats landed, and almost the first person I met was my old friend and partner, Texas
Jack, who had been sent out as a dispatch carrier for the New York Herald.

General Whistler, upon learning that General Terry had left the Yellowstone, asked me to carry to
him some important dispatches from General Sheridan, and although I objected, he insisted upon my
performing this duty, saying that it would only detain me a few hours longer; as an extra inducement
he offered me the use of his own thoroughbred horse, which was on the boat. I finally consented to
go, and was soon speeding over the rough and hilly country towards Powder river, and I delivered
the dispatches to General Terry the same evening. General Whistler's horse, although a good animal
was not used to such hard riding, and was far more exhausted by the journey than I was.

After I had taken a lunch, General Terry asked me if I would carry some dispatches back to General
Whistler, and I replied that I would. Captain Smith, General Terry's aid-de-camp, offered me his
horse for the trip and it proved to be an excellent animal; for I rode him that same night forty miles
over the bad lands in four hours, and reached General Whistler's steamboat at one o'clock. During
my absence the Indians had made their appearance on the different hills in the vicinity, and the troops
from the boat had had several skirmishes with them. When General Whistler had finished reading the
dispatches, he said: "Cody, I want to send information to General Terry concerning the Indians who
have been skirmishing around here all day. I have been trying all the evening long to induce some one
to carry my dispatches to him, but no one seems willing to undertake the trip, and I have got to fall
back on you. It is asking a great deal, I know, as you have just ridden eighty railes; but it is a case of
necessity, and if you'll go Cody, I'll see that you are well paid for it."

"Never mind about the pay," said I, "but get your dispatches ready and I'll start at once."

 

A TERRIBLE JOURNEY
In a few minutes he handed me the package and, mounting the same horse which I had ridden from
General Terry's camp, I struck out for my destination. It was two o'clock in the morning when I left
the boat, and at eight o'clock I rode into General Terry's camp, just as he was about to march
&emdash;having made one hundred and twenty miles in twenty-two hours.

General Terry, after reading the dispatches, halted his command and then rode on and overtook
General Crook, with whom he held a council; the result was that Crook's command moved on in the
direction which they had been pursuing, while Terry's forces marched back to the Yellowstone and
crossed the river on steamboats. At the urgent request of General Terry I accompanied the
command on a scout in the direction of the Dry fork of the Missouri, where it was expected we
would strike some Indians.

The first march out from the Yellowstone was made in the night, as we wished to get into the hills
without being discovered by the Sioux scouts. After marching three days, a little to the east of north,
we reached the buffalo range and discovered fresh signs of Indians, who had evidently been killing
buffaloes General Terry now called on me to carry dispatches to Colonel Rice, who was still
camped at the mouth of Glendive creek, on the Yellowstone &emdash;distant about eighty miles
from us.

Night had set in with a storm and a drizzling rain was falling when, at ten o'clock, I started on this
ride through a section of country with which I was entirely unacquainted. I traveled through the
darkness a distance of about thirty-five miles, and at daylight I rode into a secluded spot at the head
of a ravine where stood a bunch of ash trees and there I concluded to remain till night, for I
considered it a dangerous undertaking to cross the wide prairies in broad daylight
&emdash;especially as my horse was a poor one. I accordingly unsaddled my animal and ate a
hearty breakfast of bacon and hard tack which I had stored in the saddlepockets; then, after taking a
smoke, I lay down to sleep, with my saddle for a pillow. In a few minutes I was in the land of
dreams.

 

LYING LOW
After sleeping some time &emdash;I can't tell how long &emdash;I was suddenly awakened by a
roaring, rumbling sound. I instantly seized my gun, sprang to my horse and hurriedly secreted him in
the brush. Then I climbed up the steep side of the bank and cautiously looked over the summit; in
the distance I saw a large herd of buffaloes which were being chased and fired at by twenty or thirty
Indians. Occasionally a buffalo would drop out of the herd, but the Indians kept on until they had
killed ten or fifteen. They then turned back and began to cut up their game.

I saddled my horse and tied him to a small tree where I could reach him conveniently in case the
Indians should discover me by finding my trail and following it. I then crawled carefully back to the
summit of the bluff, and in a concealed position watched the Indians for two hours, during which
time they were occupied in cutting up the buffaloes and packing the meat on their pollies. When they
had finished this work they rode off in the direction whence they had come and on the line which I
had proposed to travel. It appeared evident to me that their camp was located somewhere between
me and Glendive creek, but I had no idea of abandoning the trip on that account.

I waited till nightfall before resuming my journey, and then I bore off to the east for several miles,
and by making a semi-circle to avoid the Indians, I got back on my original courses and then pushed
on rapidly to Colonel Rice's camp, which l reached just at daylight.

Colonel Rice had been fighting Indians almost every day since he had been encamped at this point,
and he was very anxious to notify General Terry of the fact. Of course I was requested to carry his
dispatches. After remaining at Glendive a single day I started back to find General Terry, and on the
third day I overhauled him at the head of Deer creek while on his way to Colonel Rice's camp. He
was not, however, going in the right direction, but bearing too far to the east, and I so informed him.
He then asked me to guide the command and I did so.

On arriving at Glendive I bade good-bye to the General and his officers and took passage on the
steamer Far West, which was on her way down the Missouri. At Bismark I left the steamer, and
proceeded by rail to Rochester, New York, where I met my family. Mr. J. Clinton Hall, manager of
the Rochester Opera House was very anxious to have me play an engagement at his theater, so I
agreed to open the season with him as soon as I had got my drama written; and I did so, meeting
with an enthusiastic reception.

My new drama was arranged for the stage by J. V. Arlington, the actor. It was a five-act play,
without head or tail, and it made no difference at which act we commenced the performance. Before
we had finished the season several newspaper critics, I have been told, went crazy in trying to follow
the plot. It afforded us, however, ample opportunity to give a noisy, rattling, gunpowder
entertainment, and to present a succession of scenes in the late Indian war, all of which seemed to
give general satisfaction.

 

RETURN TO THE MIMIC STAGE
From Rochester I went to New York and played a very successful engagement at the Grand Opera
House under the management of Messrs. Poole and Donnelly. Thence my route took me to all the
principal cities in the Eastern, Western and Middle States, and I everywhere met with crowded
houses. I then went to the Pacific Coast, against the advice of friends who gave it as their opinion
that my style of plays would not take very well in California. I opened for an engagement of two
weeks at the Bush Street Theater, in San Francisco, in a season when the theatrical business was dull
and Ben DeBar and the Lingards were playing there to empty seats. I expected to play to a slim
audience on the opening night, but instead of that I had a fourteen hundred dollar house. Such was
my success that I continued my engagement for five weeks, and the theater was crowded at every
performance. Upon leaving San Francisco I made a circuit of the interior towns and closed the
season at Virginia City, Nevada.

Some time previously I had made arrangements to go into the cattle business in company with my
old friend, Major Frank North, and while I was in California he had built our ranches on the South
fork of the Dismal river, sixty-five miles north of North Platte, in Nebraska. Proceeding to Ogallala,
the headquarters of the Texas cattle drovers, I found Major North there awaiting me, and together we
bought, branded and drove to our ranches our first installment of cattle. This occupied us during the
remainder of the summer.

Leaving the cattle in charge of Major North, I visited Red Cloud Agency early in the fall, and secured
some Sioux Indians to accompany me on my theatrical tour of 1877-78. Taking my family and the
Indians with me, I went directly to Rochester. There I left my oldest daughter, Arta, at a young
ladies' seminary, while my wife and youngest child traveled with me during the season.

I opened at the Bowery Theater, New York, September 3d, 1877, with a new border drama entitled,
"May Cody, or Lost and Won," from the pen of Major A. S. Burt, of the United States army. It was
founded on the incidents of the " Mountain Meadow Massacre," and life among the Mormons. It
was the best drama I had yet produced, and proved a grand success both financially and artistically.
The season of 1877-78 was the most profitable one I had ever had.

In February, 1878, my wife became tired of traveling, and proceeded to North Platte, Nebraska,
where, on our farm adjoining the town, she personally superintended the erection of a comfortable
family residence, and had it all completed when I reached there, early in May. In this house we are
now living, and we hope to make it our home for many years to come.

 

ON A ROUND UP
After my arrival at North Platte, I found that the ranchmen, or cattlemen, had organized a regular
annual "round-up," to take place in the spring of the year.

The word "round-up" is derived from the fact that during the winter months the cattle become
scattered over a vast tract of land, and the ranchmen assemble together in the spring to sort out and
each secure his own stock. They form a large circle, often of a circumference of two hundred miles,
and drive the cattle toward a common center, where, all stock being branded, each owner can readily
separate his own from the general herd, and then he drives them to his own ranch.

In this cattle driving business is exhibited some most magnificent horsemanship, for the "cow-boys,"
as they are called, are invariably skillful and fearless horsemen &emdash;in fact only a most expert
rider could be a cow-boy, as it requires the greatest dexterity and daring in the saddle to cut a wild
steer out of the herd. Major North was awaiting me, upon my arrival at North Platte, having with him
our own horses and men. Other cattle owners, such as Keith and Barton, Coe and Carter, Jack Pratt,
the Walker brothers, Guy and Sim Lang, Arnold and Ritchie and a great many others with their
outfits, were assembled and were ready to start on the round-up.

As there is nothing but hard work on these round-ups, having to be in the saddle all day, and
standing guard over the cattle at night, rain or shine, I could not possibly find out where the fun came
in that North had promised me. But it was an exciting life, and the days sped rapidly by; in six weeks
we found ourselves at our own ranch on Dismal river, the round-up having proved a great success,
as we had found all our cattle and driven them home. This work being over, I proposed to spend a
few weeks with my family at North Platte, for the purpose of making their better acquaintance, for
my long and continued absence from home made me a comparative stranger under my own roof.
One great source of pleasure to me was that my wife was de lighted with the home I had given her
amid the prairies of the far West. Soon after my arrival, my sisters, Nellie and May, came to make us
a visit, and a delightful time we had during their stay. When they left us I accompanied them to their
home in Denver, Colorado, where I passed several days visiting old friends and scenes. Proceeding
thence to Ogallala I purchased from Bill Phant, an extensive cattle drover from Texas, a herd of
cattle, which I drove to my ranch on the Dismal river, after which I bade my partner and the boys
good-bye, and started for the Indian Territory to procure Indians for my Dramatic Combination for
the season of 1878-79.

 

PUTTING REAL INDIANS ON THE STAGE
Having secured my Indian actors, and along with them Mr. C. A. Burgess, a government interpreter,
and Ed. A. Burgess, known as the "Boy Chief of the Pawnees," I started for Baltimore, where I
organised my combination, and which was the largest troupe I had had yet on the road, opening in
that city at the Opera House, under the management of Hon. John T. Ford, and then started on a
southern tour, playing in Washington, Richmond and as far south as Savannah, Georgia, where we
were brought to a sudden halt, owing to the yellow fever which was then cruelly raging in the
beautiful cities of the "Land of the cotton and the cane."



CHAPTER XXIII
THE WILD WEST IN ENGLAND.
When the season of 1882-1883 closed I found myself richer by several thousand dollars than I had
ever been before, having done a splendid business at every place where my performance was given
in that year. Immense success and comparative wealth, attained in the profession of showman,
stimulated me to greater exertion and largely increased my ambition for public favor. Accordingly, I
conceived the idea of organising a large company of Indians, cow-boys, Mexican vaqueros, famous
riders and expert lasso throwers, with accessories of stage coach, emigrant wagons, bucking horses
and a herd of buffaloes, with which to give a realistic entertainment of wild life on the plains. To
accomplish this purpose, which in many respects was a really herculean undertaking, I sent agents to
various points in the far West to engage Indians from several different tribes, and then set about the
more difficult enterprise of capturing a herd of buffaloes. After several months of patient work I
secured the services of nearly fifty cow-boys and Mexicans skilled in lasso-throwing and famous as
daring riders, but when these were engaged, and several buffaloes, elk and mountain sheep were
obtained, I found all the difficulties had not yet been overcome, for such exhibitions as I had
prepared to give could only be shown in large open-air enclosures, and these were not always to be
rented, while those that I found suitable were often inaccessible by such popular conveyances as
street cars. The expenses of such a show as I had determined to give were so great that a very large
crowd must be drawn to every exhibition or a financial failure would be certain; hence I soon found
that my ambitious conception, instead of bringing me fortune, was more likely to end in disaster. But
having gone so far in the matter I determined to see the end whatever it might be.

In the spring of 1883 (May 17th) I opened the Wild West Show at the fair grounds in Omaha, and
played to very large crowds, the weather fortunately proving propitious. We played our next
engagement at Springfield, Ill., and thence in all the large cities, to the seaboard. The enterprise was
not a complete financial success during the first season, though everywhere our performances were
attended by immense audiences.

 

NATE SALSBURY JOINS ME AS A PARTNER
Though I had made no money at the end of the first year, the profit came to me in the way of
valuable experience and I was in no wise discouraged. Flattering offers were made me by circus
organisations to go on the road as an adjunct to their exhibitions, but I refused them all, determined
to win success with my prairie Wild West Show or go down in complete failure. The very large
patronage I received during my first season convinced me that if I could form a partnership with
some one capable of attending to the management and business details that the enterprise would
prove a magnificent success, a belief which I am glad to say was speedily realized.

My career on the stage threw me in contact with a great many leading stars, and I came to have an
acquaintanceship with nearly all my contemporary American actors. Among those with whom I
became most intimate was Nate Salsbury, a comedian whose equal I do not believe graces the stage
of either America or England today. Aside from his popularity and wealth, acquired in legitimate
comedy, I knew him to be a reliable friend, and withal endowed with a rare business sagacity that
gave him the reputation of being one of the very best, as well as successful, managers in the show
business. Knowing his character as such, I approached him with a proposition to join me as an equal
partner, in putting the Wild West entertainment again on the road. The result of my overtures was the
formation of a partnership that still continues, and under the new management and partnersmp of
Cody & Salsbury, the Wild West has won all its glory.

The reader will pardon a digression from the general scope of this autobiography for the probably
more interesting, though all too brief, allusion to the career of my esteemed partner, who has won
success in life by struggles quite as difficult and trying as any through which I have passed.

Nate (Nathan) Salsbury was born in Freeport, Ill., in 1846, when his parents were in such humble
circumstances that his early training was all in the direction of "digging sand and sawing wood." As
there was little to bind his affections to the home of his nativity, when the war broke out Nate joined
the Fifteenth Illinois, with which he remained, as a private in the ranks, sixteen months. In 1863 he
again enlisted and participated in a dozen battles and was wounded three times. His career as an
active participant was terminated by his capture and incarceration in Andersonville prison, where he
remained subjected to all the horrors of that dreadful pen for a period of seven months. Being at
length exchanged he returned home and entered the law office of Judge Beck, now Chief Justice of
Colorado, with the idea of becoming a lawyer. A few months of office study and attendance at
commercial school only served to impress him with the idea that the profession would still have a
fairly large membership even though his name were not added to the list. Abandoning his former
expectations he went to school for a time and in the class exhibitions and amateur theatricals of his
town developed a desire to go on the stage.

The first experience Nate had in search of a crown for his greatest ambition was far from a pleasant
one. Having saved up less than a score of dollars he went to Grand Rapids, Mich., and there made
application of the Opera House managers, Johnson, Oates & Hayden, for a situation. Mr. Oates
asked him his line of business to which Nate modestly replied "Oh, anything." "Well," said Oates,
"what salary do you expect?" "Oh, anything," was the equally prompt response. Seeing that the
applicant had evidentlv not yet passed the threshhold of the profession, Oates said to him, in an
indifferent manner. "I will give you twelve dollars a week and you'll be d&emdash;d lucky if you get
a cent." He didn't; but he entered the profession, which was the next best thing.

From Grand Rapids Nate went to Detroit, where he remained three months without advancing
himself either financially or professionally. Somewhat discouraged he returned to his Illinois home,
but only to stay a few months, when his restless ambition prompted him to try his fortune in the
East. Accordingly he went to Baltimore, and thence to Boston, where he secured a situation at the
Boston Museum with a salary of twelve dollars per week. Here his talent was soon discovered by the
management, who raised his salary to a twenty-eight dollars per week. Others also saw the budding
genius of Nate and after playing a season at the Museum he accepted the position of leading heavy
man at Hooley's theater in Chicago. 

His progress thenceforward was rapid, as his popularity grew apace and his salary rose with every
new engagement. But there was too much originality in the man to permit of him remaining a member
of a stock company, so at the conclusion of his second season at Hooley's he conceived and
constructed a comedy entertainment, with eight people in the cast, to which he gave the title of "The
Troubadours." For twelve years this organization, as originally formed, with very slight changes,
continued on the road and played repeatedly in all the largest cities with splendid success.

Following "The Troubadours," Nate wrote another comedy, called "Patchwork," which had a run of
eighteen months, and then he brought out his most successful comedy, "The Brook" which he wrote
entire in eight hours, and at a single sitting. This piece he played continuously for five years, making
a large amount of money and pleasing millions of people, until he joined me and took the active
management of the Wild West Show, which compelled him to withdraw from the stage.

 

A BIGGER SHOW PUT ON THE ROAD
Immediately upon forming a partnership with Salsbury we set about increasing the company and
preparing to greatly enlarge the exhibition. Nearly one hundred Indians, from several tribes, were
engaged, among the number being the world famous Chief Sitting Bull, and several other Sioux tat
had distinguished themselves in the Custer massacre. Besides these we secured the services of many
noted plainsmen, such as Buck Taylor, the great rider, lasso thrower and Kind of the Cowboys;
Utah Frank, John Nelson, and a score of other well-known characters. We also captured a herd of
elk, a dozen buffaloes and some bears with which to illustrate the chase.

 

THE SHOW IS DUMPED INTO THE MISSISSIPPI
Our vastly enlarged and reorganized company gave daily exhibitions in all the large cities to
enormous crowds during the summer of 1884, and in the fall we started for New Orleans to spend
the winter exhibiting at the Exposition Grounds. We accordingly chartered a steamer to transport our
property and troupe to the Crescent City. Nothing of moment transpired on the trip until we were
near Rodney Landing, Miss., then our boat collided with another and was so badly damaged that she
sank in less than an hour. In this accident we lost all our personal effects, including wagons, camp
equipage, arms, ammunition, donkeys, buffaloes and one elk. We managed, however, to save our
horses, Deadwood coach, band wagon, and &emdash;ourselves. The loss thus entailed was about
$20,000.

As soon as I could reach a telegraph station I hastily sent a telegram to Salsbury, who was with the
Troubadours at Denver, as follows: "Outfit at bottom of the river, what do you advise?" As I learned
afterwards, Salsbury was just on the point of going upon the stage to sing a song when my rueful
telegram was handed him. The news hit him hard, but in no wise disconcerted him; stepping to the
speaking tube connecting with the orchestra he shouted to the leader, "Play that symphony again and
a little louder, I want to think a minute." As the music struck up he wrote out the following message:
"Go to New Orleans, reorganize and open on your date," which I received and promptly complied
with his instructions.

In eight days I had added to the nucleus that had been saved a herd of buffalo and elk, and all the
necessary wagons and other properties, completing the equipment so thoroughly that the show in
many respects was better prepared than at the time of the accident &emdash;and we opened on our
date.

 

A SEASON IN NEW YORK
The New Orleans exposition did not prove the success that many of its promoters anticipated and
the expectations of Mr. Salsbury and myself were alike disappointed, for at the end of the winter we
counted our losses at about $60,000.

The following summer we played at Staten Island, on the magnificent grounds of Mr. Erastus
Wiman, and met with such splendid success that our losses at New Orleans were speedily retrieved.
So well satisfied were we with New York that we leased MadisonSquare Garden for the winter of
1886-87 and gave our exhibition there for the first time in a covered space. We gave two
performances every day during the entire winter and nearly always played to crowded houses,
though the seating capacity of the place was about 15,000.

 

AN AMBITIOUS BUT HAZARDOUS UNDERTAKING
The immortal bard has well said, "ambition grows with what it feeds on.' So with Salsbury and I, our
unexampled success throughout America with the Wild West show excited our ambition to conquer
other nations than our own. Though the idea of transplanting our exhibition, for a time, to England
had frequently occurred to us, the importance of such an undertaking was enlarged and brought us
to a more favorable consideration of the project by repeated suggestions from prominent persons of
America, and particularly by urgent invitations extended by distinguished Englishmen. While inclined
to the enterprise we gave much thought to the enormous expense involved in such a step and might
not have decided so soon to try the rather hazardous experiment but for an opportunity that
promised to largely increase our chances of success.

Several leading gentlemen of the United States conceived the idea of holding an American Exhibition
in the heart of London and to this end a company was organised that pushed the project to a
successful issue, aided as they were by several prominent residents of the English capital. When the
enterprise had progressed so far as to give flattering promise of an opening at the time fixed upon, a
proposition was made to Mr . Salsbury and myself, by the president and directors of the company,
to take our show to London and play the season of six months as an adjunct of the American
Exhibition, the proposition being a percentage of the gate receipts.

After a mature consideration of the offer we accepted it and immediately set about enlarging our
organization and preparing for a departure for England.

A great deal of preliminary work was necessary, but we set manfully about the task of securing the
services of a hundred Indians, representative types of the Sioux, Cheyenne, Kiowa, Pawnee and
Ogalallas tribes, and succeeded in getting the required number, none of whom had ever been off their
reservations prior to joining my show. Among the prominent chiefs thus engaged was Red Shirt, a
redoubtable warrior and second only in influence to Sitting Bull himself. A short while before his
engagement with us he had quelled an uprising among his people, instigated by a pretender to the
chieftainship of the tribe, by invading the pretender's camp with only two of his followers and
shooting the leader dead before the eyes of his affrighted wife. This fearless act had served to elevate
him very much in the eyes of his people, who thereafter accepted him as a leader. When, therefore,
he decided to join the Wild West show, under the flattering offers I made him, his influence aided us
very much in procuring our complement of Indians, not only from his own tribe, but from others as
well.

 

SEEKING NEW WORLDS TO CONQUER
Our arrangements having at length been completed, by collecting together a company of more than
two hundred men and animals, consisting of Indians, cowboys, ( including the celebrated Cowboy
band,) Mexican wild riders, celebrated rifle shots, buffaloes, Texas steers, burros, bronchos, racing
horses, elk, bears, and an immense amount of camp paraphernalia, such as tents, wagons, stage
coach, etc., we chartered the steamship State of Nebraska, of the State line, Capt. Braes, and were
ready to set sail to a country that I had long wished to visit, &emdash;the Motherland. Accordingly,
on Thursday, March 31st, 1887, we set sail from New York, the piers crowded with thousands of
our good friends who came down to wave their adieux and to wish us a pleasant voyage. Our
departure was an occasion I shall never forget, for as the ship drew away from the pier such cheers
went up as I never before heard, while our Cowboy band played "The Girl I Left Behind Me" in a
manner that suggested more reality than empty sentiment in the familiar air. Salsbury and I, and my
daughter Arta, waved our hats in sad farewells and stood upon the deck watching the still cheering
crowd until they faded in the distance, and we were out upon the deep, for the first time in my life.

 

THE INDIANS' FEARS ARE EXCITED
Before starting on the trip several of the Indians expressed grave fears that if they trusted themselves
to the great waters a horrible death would soon overtake them, and at the last mornent it required all
our arts of persuasion to induce them to go on board.

Red Shirt explained that these fears were caused by a belief prevalent among many tribes of Indians,
that if a red man attempted to cross the ocean, soon after beginning his journey he would be seized
of a malady that would first prostrate the victim and then slowly consume his flesh, day after day,
until at length the very skin itself would drop from his bones, leaving nothing but the skeleton and
this even could never find burial. This gruesome belief was repeated by chiefs of the several tribes to
the Indians who had joined me, so that there is little reason for wonder, that with all our assurances,
the poor unlearned children of a nature run riot by neglect, should hesitate to submit themselves to
such an experiment. 

On the day following our departure from New York the Indians began to grow weary and their
stomachs, like my own, became both treacherous and rebellious. Their fears were now so greatly
intensified that even Red Shirt, the bravest of his people, looked anxiously towards the hereafter, and
began to feel his flesh to see if it were really diminishing. The seal of hopelessness stamped upon the
faces of the Indians aroused my pity, and though sick as a cow with hollow-horn myself, I used my
utmost endeavors to cheer them up and relieve their forebodings. But for two days nearly the whole
company was too sick for any other active service than feeding the fishes, in which I am not proud
to say that I performed more than an ordinary share. On the third day, however, we all began to
mend so far that I called the Indians together in the main saloon and gave them a Sunday address, as
did also Red Shirt, who was now recovered from his anxiety about the future.

After the third day at sea we had an entertainment every afternoon, in which Mr. Salsbury, as singer
and comedian, took the leading part, to the intense delight of all on board. On the seventh day a
storm came up that raged so fiercely that for a time the ship had to lay to, and during which our
stock suffered greatly, but we gave them such good care, and had such excellent luck as well, that
none of our animals, save one horse, died on the trip.

 

"OFF GRAVESEND"
At last as we cast anchor off Gravesend a tug boat approaching attracted the entire company on
deck, for we were expecting to meet our advance manager, Jno. M. Burke, with general instructions
as to our landing, etc. It turned out, however, to be a government boat loaded with custom-house
and quarantine officials, under whom we were to pass the usual inspection. Another official
accompanied them, with whom arrangements had been made for the passage of our arms, as a
restriction was placed upon the landing of our ammunition, of which we had brought a large quantity,
the English government regulations requiring that it be unloaded and turned over to the arsenal
authorities, in whose charge it was kept during our stay in London, we drawing on them daily for our
supply as needed. I feel in duty bound to acknowledge here that the English government, through its
different officials, extended to us every kind of courtesy, privileges and general facilities that
materially assisted in rendering pleasant the last few hours of a remarkable voyage. The bovines and
buffalo that were a part of our outfit were inspected, and a special permit granted us to take them to
the Albert dock, the place of our debarkation, and after holding them in quarantine there for a few
days they were allowed to join us in camp.

Recent disastrous outbreaks of rinderpest, foot and mouth disease, and other ills that bovine flesh is
heir to, necessitate the law being very strict as regards importation of cattle, all foreign beasts being
required to be killed within twenty-four hours after their arrival.

 

SOME ANXIOUS REFLECTIONS
During this delay time was given me for reflection and gradually as my eyes wandered over the
crowded waterway with its myriads of crafts of every description, from the quaint channel
fishing-boat to the mammoth East India trader and ocean steamers, topped by the flags of all nations
and hailing from every accessible part of the known world, carrying the productions of every clime
and laden with every commodity, I thought of the magnitude of the enterprise I was engaged in and
wondered what its results would be.

The freight I had brought with me across the broad Atlantic was such a strange and curious one that
I naturally wondered whether, after all trouble, time and expense it had cost me, this pioneer cargo of
Nebraska goods would be marketable. In fact, it would take a much more facile pen than mine to
portray the thick crowding thoughts that scurried through my brain. Standing on the deck of a ship,
called the "State of Nebraska," whose arrival had evidently been watched for with great curiosity, as
the number of yachts, tug boats and other crafts which surrounded us attested, my memory
wandered back to the days of my youth, when in search of the necessaries of existence and braving
the dangers of the then vast wild plains, a section of which comprised the then unsettled territory of
Nebraska. I contrasted that epoch of my life, its lonely duties and its hardships, and all its complex
history, as the home and battle-ground of a savage foe, with its present great prosperity and its
standing as the empire State of the central West. A certain feeling of pride came over me when I
thought of the good ship on whose deck I stood, and that her cargo consisted of early pioneers and
rude, rough riders from that section, and of the wild horses of the same district, buffalo, deer, elk
and antelope &emdash;the king game of the prairie, &emdash;together with over one hundred
representatives of that savage foe that had been compelled to submit to a conquering civilisation and
were now accompanying me in friendship, loyalty and peace, five thousand miles from their homes,
braving the dangers of the to them great unknown sea, now no longer a tradition, but a reality
&emdash;all of us combined in an exhibition intended to prove to the center of old world civilisation
that the vast region of the United States was finally and effectively settled by the English-speaking
race.

 

OUR RECEPTION IN ENGLAND
This train of thought was interrupted by the sight of a tug, with the starry banner flying from her peak
bearing down upon us, and a tumultuous waving of handkerchiefs on board, evoking shouts and
cheers from all our company.

As the tug came nearer, strains of "The Star Spangled Banner," rendered by a band on her deck, fell
upon our ears, and immediately our own Cowboy band responded with "Yankee Doodle," creating a
general tumult on our ship as the word was passed from bow to stern that friends were near. Once
alongside, the company on board the tug proved to be the directors of the American Exhibition, with
Lord Ronald Gower heading a distinguished committee accompanied by Maj. Burke and
representatives of the leading journals, who made us feel at last that our sea voyage was ended.

 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON
After the usual introductions, greetings and reception of instructions, I accompanied the committee
on shore at Gravesend, where quite an ovation was given us amid cries of "Welcome to old
England" and "three cheers for Bill," which gave pleasing evidence of the public interest that had
been awakened in our coming.

A special train of saloon carriages was waiting to convey us to London and we soon left the quaint
old Kentish town behind us, and in an hour we arrived at Victoria station. The high road-bed of the
railroad, which runs level with the chimney tops, was a novel sight, as we scurried along, through
what seemed to be an endless sea of habitation, and I have scarcely yet found out where Gravesend
finishes and London commences, so dense is the population of the suburbs off the "boss village" of
the British Isles, and so numerous the small towns through which we passed. The impression created
by the grand Victoria station, by the underground railroad, the strange sights and busy scenes of the
"West End," the hustle and the bustle of a first evening view of mighty London, would alone make a
chapter. 

My first opinion of the streets was that they were sufficiently lively and noisy to have alarmed all the
dogs in every Indian village in the Platte country, from the Missouri river to the headwaters of the
Platte, in its most primitive days.

A short trip on the somewhat dark and sulphurous underground railroad brought us to West
Kensington, a quiet section of the West End, the station of which had been already connected by
special bridges, then nearly completed, with the grounds as yet unknown to London, but destined to
become the scene of several months' continuous triumphs. Entering the headquarters of the
exhibition we found a bounteous repast set and a generous welcome accorded us. The heartiness of
my reception, combined with the natural sense of relief after such a journey and the general
indications of success, proved a happy relaxation of the nervous strain to which I had been
subjected for several weeks. Speeches, toasts and well wishes, etc., accompanied the spirited and
spirituous celebration of the occasion. My genial hosts' capacity for the liquid refreshments would
have made me envy them in the 60s, and led me to suspect that there might be accomplishments in
England in which even western pioneers are excelled.

 

PREPARING THE EXHIBITION GROUNDS.
After brief social converse, and a tranquilizing smoke, we made a casual visit to the grounds, where
the preparations for the stabling, the arena and the grand stand, with busy hundreds of workmen
hastening their completions by night by the aid of lucigen lights and bon-fires, presented an animated
scene, and a display of energy rarely witnessed in connection with an amusement enterprise. These
operations were dealing with the expenditure of $125,000, including the fencing in of an arena more
than a third of a mile in circumference, flanked by a grand stand filled with seats and boxes,
estimated to accommodate 20,000 persons. Sheltered stands for 10,000 more were also being
erected; it being understood that room for 40,000 spectators in all should be provided at each
performance. For the Indian encampment a large hill had been thrown up by spare labor, and this
was already decorated by a grove of newly planted trees. The stables for horses, mules and
mustangs, and the corrals for buffaloes, antelope, elk, etc., were all in simultaneous course of
construction. Everything so far impressed me very favorably and I began to feel that if we did not
command success we would, with our advantages of location, surroundings and novelty and realism,
at least deserve it.

The interest evinced by the British workmen in my presence detracting somewhat from their attention
to business, caused us to retire after a brief inspection. This same curiosity however was as a straw
indicating which way the wind blew. I was now, for the first time, introduced in its own habitat to
that world-famed vehicle, the London hansom cab. In one of them I was whirled through the West
End, past the famous Hyde Park, through Piccadilly, around Leicester and Trafalgar squares, to that
central resort and theatrical hub of this vast community, the Strand. This narrow street, in its relation
to the great city, reminded me of one of the contracted passes in the "Rockies," to which traffic had
been naturally attracted, and usage had made a necessity. The density of its foot traffic, the thronging
herd of omnibuses, the twisting, wriggling, shouting, whip-cracking cabbies, seemed like Broadway
squeezed narrower, and I realized at once the utility and necessity of the two-wheeled curio in which
I was whirled through the bewildering mingle of Strand traffic. With but one or two hub-bumps we
were soon landed at the magnificent hotel Metropole, in Northumberland avenue, where I met many
American gentlemen from different cities, who recognized me on sight and gave me hearty greeting. I
retired early, determined to retrace my steps to Gravesend at daylight and ascend the Thames on
board the Nebraska, as my great anxiety was the successful debarkation.

 

ARRIVAL AT LONDON
On an early tide that at its flood I now felt would lead on to fortune, with flags flying we entered,
amid a perfect ovation, the great port of London. The ship's officers pointed out to us as we
steamed by them the places of historical interest.

With each horseman looking after his own mount, we were unloaded with a rapidity that astonished
the old officials and hands on the docks. Our entire outfit was as quickly loaded upon three railway
trains, for we were yet twelve miles from our future camp, and speedily we were delivered, people
and property, at the Midland railway depot, alongside the grounds. By 6 p. m our canvas city had
sprung up in the heart of the West End of London, and from our flagstaff "Old Glory" floated in the
British breeze. The Cowboy band rendered "The Star-Spangled Banner," and the vast crowds that
had gathered at all available lookouts gave a storm of cheers. This was gratifying, and as an evidence
of appreciation and gratitude the band gave them "God Save the Queen. "

Thus the Wild West and Bill Cody of Nebraska, U. S. A., were at home in camp in London.

The dining tents not being up yet, our first meal was taken in full view of our kindly and curious
visitors The meal was finished by 7 o'clock, and by 9 the tired occupants of the camp, Indians,
Mexicans, cowboys, scouts, men, women and children were peacefully and snugly reposing after a
long and arduous voyage.

 

HELPFUL INFLUENCE OF DISTINGUISHED PERSONS
Henry Irving, the great actor; his genial friend, John Toole; Miss Ellen Terry, Justin McCarthy, M P.;
Minister Phelps, Consul General Walter and Deputy Consul Moffet assisted us greatly in the
ceremonies of landing. Our own Mary Anderson, Mrs. Brown Potter, Henry Labouchere, Chas
Wyndham, and, in short, all the prominent members of the local literati and theatrical profession,
took immense and friendly interest in our enterprise.

Lord Ronald Gower and hundreds of other lords, knights and ladies of high degree, besides a host
of distinguished American residents of London, visited our camp and stables before the regu lar day
of opening to give expressions of friendship, good-will and encouragement.

Our motley and strange people, living in their primitive style, and feats of our horsemen in their daily
exercises were deeply interesting to our visitors and the innate English love of horsemanship
presaged the success that came to us.

The press was generous to us to an extent probably never known before. Its columns teemed daily
with such eulogistic matter concerning us and our enterprise that I almost feared we might not come
up to the expectations thus raised.

Beside the daily newspapers and literary magazines, Punch and the other humorous periodicals did
their best for us, after their manner, and the poets were melodious about us. Shortly I began to
discover that my lines had fallen into the pleasant places that London society ascribes to what it is
pleased to term "the distinguished foreigner." I also discovered that, at least in such cases as mine,
one should have as many lives as a stack of black cats, all working at once, or else have the attribute
of ubiquity, to keep the pace that was set for "Buffalo Bill," "Col. Cody," "Bill Cody," "Mr. Cody,"
et al. id omne genus &emdash;whatever that is.

 

TOO MUCH LEO
I was invited in one or the other of these characters, continuously and numerously, to breakfasts,
luncheons, dinners, suppers, garden parties, athletic layouts, midnight doings, soirees, matinees,
dedications and, in short, was overwhelmed with social attentions. 

Of course, all this was pleasant to me as one who loves to live, but I had business to attend to also,
and very strenuous business, for the Wild West, and I did my best to meet the demand. Then I was
made an honorary member of nearly all the clubs, social, festive, artistic, fashionable, and many of
them were distinctly distinguishing. Notably the Reform Club, where I met the Prince of Wales, the
Duke of Cambridge and other royalty. Then there was luncheon at the Mansion House with the Lord
Mayor and Lady Mayoress; dinner at the Beaufort Club, where that fine sportsman, the Duke of
Beaufort, was host; a memorable evening at the Savage Club with Mr. Wilson Barrett &emdash;just
home from an American tour &emdash;presiding, with such choice spirits present as Henry Irving,
John L. Toole and a host of others of the art, literary and histrionic element of London and the
world. The Duke of Teck entertained me at United Arts Club, Lord Bruce and other lords at the St.
George's Club. The list of all these as shown by my diary would be exhaustive of the peerage book
and the blue books and would also exhaust the reader, as it came near exhausting "Buffalo Bill,"
"Col. Cody," etc. And yet the rounds were delightful and I appreciated the honors done me and my
beloved country. Through these I met frequently such charming and distinguished persons as Chas.
Wyndham of the Criterion, Mr. Lawson of the Daily Telegraph, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Wilde, Madame
Minnie Hank, Mrs. Navarro, who was our own Mary Anderson; Miss Emma Nevada, Mrs.
Brown-Potter, and hundreds of the kindred kind. One of the most delightful affairs was a visit to Mr.
Henry Labouchere on the occasion of a glorious garden production by the Laboucheres of "A
Midsummer Night's Dream."

These are decimatingly few of the many social courtesies extended me, and I must say that
considering the exacting demands upon me by the preliminary arrangements for so large an
exhibition as we were preparing to give with the Wild West, and polite attention to the social
demands, it has since been a wonder to me how we succeeded in giving such a great and acceptable
a performance on the opening day, and thereafter, for the show went on for months and the social
amenities kept gait and pace. To make the situating more exacting, as to my personal work, the
hundred or more Indians with us from the Pine Ridge Agency were all new to the show and were of
the wild variety; besides, we had a hundred new ponies from the plains of Texas that had never been
bridled or saddled, much less shot over, and all these had to be brought into at least Wild West
discipline, and largely under my personal supervision.

 

THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES
A communication from Marlborough House of April 26, 1887, resulted in an arrangement for a
special performance for their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, although
everything about the Wild West buildings was incomplete, the track unfinished and held back by
rainy weather and the hauling of huge timbers, all combining to make the condition of the grounds
unspeakably bad. But for all this, I determined to pull through, as the Wild West always suited me
the better the more raw and wild that it was.

I retired the night previous to the visit, aching to the core with care and fatigue, but with the hunter's
pleasant anticipations after striking a country where water is plenty and grazing good, two
circumstances that always bring the frontiersman renewed confidence and mental as well as bodily
repose.

The entertainment to the future King of Great Britain and Emperor of India, with his royal party, was,
of course, to be an exclusive one and I got the royal box rigged as handsomely as circumstances
would permit and the taste of chosen artists could devise. The English and American flags were very
prevalent in the decorations, and it was my further object, beside entertaining the Princelings, to
make the occasion a grand, additional dress rehearsal.

The party that was conducted into our precincts was a strong one numerically as well as in point of
exalted rank. The Prince and Princess of Wales with their three daughters, the Princesses Louise,
Victoria, and Maude, led the way. They were followed by the Marquis of Lorne and Princess
Louise, his wife, the Duke of Cambridge, H. S. H. Teck and son, the Comptesse de Paris, the
Crown Prince of Denmark, with numerous lords and ladies in waiting. The Prince of Wales
introduced me to his wife, afterward Alexandra, Queen-Consort, and introductions to the other royal
personages followed, in which Nate Salsbury and Major John Burke were included.

His Royal Highness Edward, Prince of Wales, was then a man under medium height, somewhat
inclined to corpulency, mixed with the indescribable manner that hedges royalty from constant
association with state ceremonials and the teachings of the "divine right" of kings; there was in the
being of this man the simple, plain-spoken kindliness of a well-bred gentleman. He accepted the
evident homage that surrounded him as a matter of course, but did not act as though he would exact
it.

Many times subsequently I had the pleasure of meeting, and I found less of the airs of office about
him than I have many times seen displayed by third-rate civic officials, even in our own dearly
beloved and highly-spoken-of democratic republic. But the republic is not to blame for that, and true
Americans rarely show it. The Princess of Wales was a quiet, self-possessed and gentle lady much
given to innocent merriment and still speaking English with a slightly-clipped foreign accent.

All my apprehensions of a mishap because of the unfinished condition of things about the
establishment were dispelled from the moment the signal was given by "command" of the Prince,
and the Indians, yelling like fiends, galloped out from their ambuscades and swept around the
enclosure like a whirlwind.

The effect was instantaneous and otherwise electric. The Prince rose from his seat and leaned
eagerly over the front of the box and the entire party seemed thrilled effectually by the spectacle.
"Cody," I said to myself, "You 've fetched 'em." From that moment we were in all right
&emdash;right from the word "Go!"

Every day in our aggregation was in capital form and the whole thing went off grandly.

Our lady shot experts, on being presented at the finish, committed the little solacism of offering to
shake hands with the Princess, for, be it known, feminine royalty offers the hand back uppermost
which the person presented is expected to lift with finger tips and salute with the lips. However, the
Princess was quick to perceive and she solved the situation by taking the proffered hands, somewhat
shaded with gunpowder, and shaking them heartily.

The royal party inspected the Indian encampment after the performance and the Prince had an
extended conversation with Red Shirt &emdash;extended for an Indian. The Princess, through the
interpreter, gave the chief welcome to England to which the chief, with great dignity, responded:
"Tell the Great White Chief 's wife that it gladdens my heart to hear her words."

The ladies of the suite patted John Nelson's half-breed pappoose and when all visited my
headquarters the Prince showed much interest in the trappings and decorations there, and especially
in the gold-mounted sword presented to me by generals of the United States Army with whom I had
served in the boisterous years gone and never to return.

The prince, who was an earnest sportsman and a bold rider to hounds with the "men folks," visited
our stables, where were quartered more than 200 bronchos and other equine help. He was pleased,
and I never felt prouder of the military methods that pervaded this department of our aggregation. He
quite won my heart by demanding the full and particular history of my old war horse Charlie, who,
now in his twenty-first year, had carried me through many dangers many times and once bore me in a
flight of 100 miles in nine hours, forty minutes, when chased by a band of hostile Indians. Old
Charlie seemed to like the attentions of royalty but he was very democratic just the same.

At 7 that evening the royal visit ended. It had been an eminent success, and the gratification of Major
Burke &emdash;our major domo, so to speak &emdash;Nate Salsbury, my business partner, and
myself over the outcome of the day presaging a season of unqualified success.

That the Wild West made a big impression in London could not have been more emphatically
proven than it was by the fact that even Queen Victoria became interested and to us came the
"command" for a special performance for Her Majesty and suite.

Of course, Royalty does not request, desire or invite persons in its realm to do this or that, but
"commands" it to be done. Thus, "By command of Her Majesty the Queen," a special performance
was given by the Wild West in order that this Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India should
have a private view of the exhibition.

Since the death of Prince Albert, her husband, which event had occurred thirty years previous to this
"command," the queen had been more than ordinarily seclusive. She seldom appeared before great
assemblages of her subjects and her visits to even her parliament were rare. To theatrical
performances she never went during that long period of her mourning. Her latest knowledge of the
greatest actors and actresses of the time was gained by private performances given, by command, in
her court, and these were infrequent.

The Wild West was altogether too big a thing to take to Windsor Castle, and as in the case of
Mahomet and the mountain, as the Wild West could not go to the Queen it became absolutely
necessary for the Queen to go to the Wild West, if she desired to see it, and it was evident that she
did.

Of course, the entire outfit, Mr. Salsbury, Major Burke and myself included, felt highly
complimented by this unusual and remarkable departure. The great London public was astonished,
almost to the extent of unbelief, the first impression being that the entire announcement was simply a
Yankee hoax.

Her Majesty was to arrive at five o'clock in the afternoon and I was informed that she expected to
give one hour to seeing all that the Wild West could supply in the matter of its performances, within
that space of time, and she expected the whole thing. This was a poser, but we determined to do the
best we could.

A dais was erected and a special box constructed that was draped in crimson velvet and otherwise
extravagantly decorated to give exclusion therein to her Majesty and the exalted notables of her train.
These preparations for the August visit being completed, our vast company awaited with feelings
akin to awe for the royal arrival. 

With the punctuality that is conventional with royalty, this great sovereign and suite came upon the
tick of time and their carriages entered the arena and were driven around to the entrance of the box
that had been prepared.

With her Majesty came their Royal Highnesses, the Prince and Princess Henry of Battenberg, the
Marquis of Lorne, the Dowager Duchess of Athole, the Hon. Ethel Cadogan, Sir Henry and Lady
Ponsonby, General Lynedoch Gardiner, Colonel Sir Henry Evart, Lord Ronald Gowen, and a
collection of brilliantly uniformed military attendants and exquisitely gowned ladies, forming a
veritable portiere of living flowers about the temporary throne.

Then another very remarkable incident occurred. Our entire company of performers having been
introduced in the usual manner and the American flag sent around the arena at the hands of a graceful
and well-mounted horseman, the statement preceded it that this was an "emblem of peace and
friendship to all the world." As the standard bearer passed the royal box with "Old Glory" her
Majesty arose, bowed deeply and impressively to the banner, and the entire court party came up
standing, the noblemen uncovered, the ladies bowed and the soldiers, generals and all, saluted.

The incident thrilled, unspeakably, every American present, and with the impulse of the West our
company gave a shout such as had never before been heard in Britain. Under ordinary
circumstances, that yell would have seemed uncouth; but this was a great event, all saw it as such,
hence the shout blended harmoniously with the situation.

For the first time in history a British sovereign had saluted the Star Spangled Banner, and that banner
was carried by a delegated and exalted attache of Buffalo Bill's Wild West.

The presence of the Queen gave mighty stimulus to our people and the performance was admirably
given. Every member of the company seemed determined to excel. The young women did unusually
successful shooting at their targets; my own shooting was the best of its kind that I ever did; the fight
of the cowboys and Indians had greater vim, even the bucking bronchos seemed to be under the
influence of the contagious enthusiasm and there never had been a more excellent performance in the
Wild West Exhibition from beginning to end and in every specialty. Moreover, her Majesty instead
of staying only an hour, decided to "sit out" the performance and then she sent the "command" that
Buffalo Bill should be presented to her. The compliments, deliberate and unmeasured, that she gave
me, that modesty mentioned in the opening of this story forbids me to repeat. 

She was a kindly little lady, not five feet high, but a gracious queen for every inch. I presented Miss
Lillian Smith, who was herself a queen &emdash;with a Winchester rifle &emdash;and the young
lady, with the naivete of the western American girl that she was, talked with royalty on the solid
footing of American sovereignty, showed the mechanism of the gun with enthusiasm, and Queen
Victoria, deeply interested, evinced that interest.

Then I presented Red Shirt, the Indian Chieftain, who was gorgeous in war paint and feather
trappings. His proud bearing was fetching among the royal party, and when he spoke through an
interpreter, saying he had come a long way to see her Majesty and "felt glad," the Queen smiled
appreciatively, and as the red man, unconventionally, but proudly, strolled away with the dignity of a
Supreme Court Judge, she seemed to say, "I know a real prince when I see him."

Then came two Indian women with their brown pappooses strapped to the shoulders of their
mothers. The red babies were passed up and royalty and retinue petted and patted them and the kids
acted as though they were used to that sort of thing.

Then the Queen and her suite ended their visit and the remarkable episode in the life of a plain
plainsman, who in boyhood had never dreamed of meeting royalty on such a footing, and who
would have felt that would have been a big thing to meet, in a friendly way, the mayor of
Leavenworth.

But, besides royalty, there came to the Wild West, and my own tent on the encampment, great men
in statesmanship, art, poetry, war and wealth, and they became my friends for life.

Shortly after this incident of the Queen's visit, came another affair that was to be the third to royalty
of the Wild West exhibitions. A royal equerry came to Earl's Court bringing a further "command"
from her Majesty. It expressed the demand that on the 20th of June a special exhibition by the Wild
West should be given in the morning to the kingly and princely guests of Queen Victoria, on the
occasion of her Jubilee.

Never before, since the world commenced, has such a gathering honored a public entertainment.
Caesar and his captive monarchs, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, nothing in history can compare
with that assemblage of the mighty ones of earth that honored the Wild West upon this occasion.

The gathering of personages comprised the King of Denmark, the King and Queen of Belgium, the
King of Saxony, the King of Greece, the Crown Prince of Austria, the Prince and Prineess of
Saxe-Meiningen, the Crown Prince and Princess of Germany, the Crown Prince of Sweden and
Norway, the Princess Victoria of Prussia, the Duke of Sparta, the Grand Duke Michael of Russia,
Prince George of Greece, Prince Louis of Baden, and the Prince and Princess of Wales with their
children and a host of lords and ladies unnumbered.

Our good old Deadwood Coach, "baptised in fire and blood" so repeatedly on the plains, had the
inanimate honor of carrying on its time-honored springs, four kings and the Prince of Wales, that
day, during the played attack of the Indians. The Prince said to me: "Colonel, you never held four
kings like these, did you?"

"I've held four Kings," I replied, "but four Kings and the Prince of Wales make a royal flush, and
that is unprecedented."

The Prince took it, for I had taught him the great American game of draw-poker, and he let off that
hair-trigger laugh of his that has been so well known to his intimates.

Of course, the joke was somewhat obscure to the other four-fifths of the "hand," and I almost pitied
Wales when he tried to explain, in three languages, the intricacies of the joke. Still I could not blame
them, for experience has taught me that the game really needs a lot of learning before one can
understand it properly.

The crowned heads seemed to be quite satisfied when that ride was over with, for the Indians did
their shooting with aboriginal energy. 

After our London engagement closed, which was one of the pleasantest periods of my life, we made
a tour of the "provinces." There were Birmingham, Manchester and other English cities and for the
period of preparation for these I took advantage of the spare time left to me by the hiatus to visit
Italy on a two weeks' vacation with my daughter Arta. It was a well-earned vacation because from
the day of our opening in London to its close, I had not missed one of the three hundred
performances given during that engagement, notwithstanding the multiplicity of social affairs that by
courtesy I was forced to observe and which professionally and socially kept me occupied eighteen
hours out of every twenty-four.

 

A MAGNIFICENT OVATION
On Monday evening, May 1st, we gave the last indoor representation, in the presence of a vast and
one of the most enthusiastic audiences I ever appeared before; bouquets were presented to various
members of the company and when I appeared I met with one of the warmest receptions of my life:
bouquets were thrown, handed and carried into the arena to me while the vast audience cheered,
waved hats, umbrellas and handkerchiefs, jumped upon their feet, and in fact the scene was very
suggestive of a pandemonium. It was fully five minutes before the noise subsided sufficiently to
enable us to proceed with the performance.

Every act went with a rush and a cheer, and was received by cries of "bravo," "well done," etc. At
the close of the exhibition calls were made for Red Shirt and myself, in response to which I thanked
my patrons and assured them that the recollection of that evening's display of kindness would ever
be fresh in my memory. Cries of "bravo, Bill," and the singing of "For he's a jolly good fellow" by
the entire audience brought the demonstration to a close.

On Tuesday afternoon I was given a benefit by the race-course people, on which occasion I
concluded to give our outdoor performance on the racecourse and despite the unfavorable weather
the turn-stiles showed that nearly 50,000 people had paid admission to the grounds. This audience,
like the one in the building the previous evening, was also very enthusiastic and the people seemed to
vie with each other in showering applause upon the various acts and features.

 

A RACE FOR $2,500
Our Wild West performances in Manchester were now at a close, but having two or three days to
spare I concluded to accept a challenge made some days previously by Mr. B. Goodall, a noted
horse breeder of Altrincham, for an international ten-mile race between his English thoroughbreds
and my American bronchos, for 500 a side. The riders were J. Latham for Goodall and Tony
Esquivel for me, and the conditions were that each rider should change horses without assistance at
the completion of each half mile. The afternoon was fine with the exception of one fierce though
fleeting rain storm. 

At five minutes to three o'clock thirteen of our bronchos, saddled with heavy cow-boy saddles, were
brought into the enclosure and about ten minutes later nine English thoroughbreds made their
appearance. The men mounted their first horses at 3 :20 and got away well, Latham at once taking
the lead. The Englishman effected his first change with an advantage, but on the next occasion he
lost this and Tony went to the front. Latham, however, gained a little for some succeeding minutes.
There was no question of the speed of his horses, but Tony was more adroit in changing, and before
many laps were over he led the Englishman by a good two furlongs. Then for a time Tony lost
ground, but Latham never succeeded in overhauling him and he passed the post 300 yards ahead,
having made the remarkable time of twenty-one minutes. Wild enthusiasm was manifested throughout
the race by the 20,000 spectators and at the termination of their arduous task both victorious Tony
and defeated Latham were loudly cheered. 

 

AN ENTHUSIASTIC FAREWELL
On Friday morning, May 4th, at 11 a. m., amid the cheers, well wishes and hand shaking of the vast
crowd who had gathered to see us depart, we pulled slowly out of the Windsor Bridge station of the
Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway en route by special passenger train for Hull, where after giving our
farewell English performance we were to embark for home. The time of the arrival of our train at the
various stations had become generally known, and all along the entire route we were met by vast
crowds who cheered and wished us God speed. Upon our arrival at Hull the crowd was so large that
it was necessary to send for a squad of police to enable us to make our way through them from the
station to the conveyances. On Saturday afternoon, May 5th, we gave our farewell performance in
England, at Hull, before an enormous crowd and that evening at 9 o'clock our entire effects were
aboard the good ship Persian Monarch which, under the command of the brave, gallant and
courteous Captain Bristow, was to leave her moorings at 3 a. m. the next morning for New York.
We had chartered the ship for this trip and had everything to ourselves, and all evening the vast
crowds who lined the docks cheered, sang songs and wished us bon voyage. A great many even
remained until our departure and went wild with excitement when they saw us as a company leave
their shores perhaps forever.

 

A PATHETIC INCIDENT AT SEA
The homeward voyage was marked with one very distressing and pathetic incident to me in the loss
of my favorite horse Charlie, that I had ridden for fifteen years in sunshine and in storm, in days of
adversity as well as of prosperity and to whose fleetness of foot I owed my life on more than one
occasion when pursued by Indians. He stood the voyage very well, apparently, until May 14th, and
even on the morning of that day when I visited him he seemed to be as well as usual.

A few minutes after leaving him, however, a groom ran to me and told me he had a chill. We did
everything we could for him, but it was useless. He had lung fever, and after three days' illness he
died. We could almost understand each other, and I felt very deeply. The sailors stitched him up in
canvas and he lay all day Thursday, the 17th, on deck, covered with the American flag. At 8 o'clock
in the evening we dropped the body, properly weighted, into the ocean. I did think of bringing him
on here and burying him in his native soil, but finally concluded not to do so.

I cannot describe my joy upon stepping again on the shore of beloved America. Though I had
received such honors while abroad as few persons have been favored with, and scored a triumph,
both socially and professionally, that may well excite my pride, yet "there is no place like home, "
nor is there a flag like the old fiag.

With the happiness of returning to my own country again came a double portion of joy in meeting
with so many old friends whose arms opened to welcome me. But of the particular pleasures of
these glad meetings it does not become me to speak now, since the space at my disposal is already
exhausted; suffice it therefore to say, that I am again before the American public with the Wild West
Show which is now performing for the season, at Erastina, Staten Island, where we scored such a
splendid success in the summer of 1886.

                                THE END