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GIFT   OF 
W.   PI.   Smyth 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT 
SCOUTS 


THE   LIFE   STORr  OF 

COL.  WILLIAM   F.  CODY 


"BUFFALO    BILL" 


AS    TOLD    BY    HIS    SISTER 

HELEN  CODY 


THE  DULUTH  PRESS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  AND  DULUTH 

U.  S.  A. 

<     c 


PRESERVATION 
COPY  ADDED 


IN  THE  UNITOB  STATED,  OHB^T*|JK|TA4N,  AND  FRANCE 
I  *•••"     .  Y  -sir  J"  J  *..K 

.  HELEN  .CODY  WETMORE^ 


Ufa  ILafefaftrr 

R.   R.   DONNELLEY   &   SONS   COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


TO   THE    MEMORY   OF  A    MOTHER 

WHOSE   CHRISTIAN 

CHARACTER   STILL   LIVES   A   HALLOWED 
INFLUENCE 


M97445 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGZ 

I.  THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD  IN  IOWA              -           -  -         i 

II.  WILL'S  FIRST  INDIAN                          ...  9 

III.  THE  SHADOW  OF  PARTISAN  STRIFE       -           -  16 

IV.  PERSECUTION  CONTINUES       -                                    •  22 
V.  THE  "Boy  EXTRA"                        -  -       30 

VI.  FAMILY  DEFENDER  AND  HOUSEHOLD  TEASE  39 

VII.  INDIAN  ENCOUNTER  AND  SCHOOL-DAY  INCIDENTS  -       48 

VIII.  DEATH  AND  BURIAL  OF  TURK                        •  62 

IX.  WILL  AS  PONY  EXPRESS  RIDER                          -  -       73 

X.  ECHOES  FROM  SUMTER                                      •            •  80 

XI.  A  SHORT  BUT  DASHING  INDIAN  CAMPAIGN      -  -89 

XII.  THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  ILLNESS                        -           -  98 

XIII.  IN  THE  SECRET-SERVICE                            -            -  in 

XIV.  A  RESCUE  AND  A  BETROTHAL            ...  122 
XV.  WILL  AS  A  BENEDICT        -  -      133 

XVI.  How  THE  SOBRIQUET  OF  "BUFFALO  BILL"  WAS  WON      149 

XVII.  SATANTA,  CHIEF  OF  THE  KIOWAS  -      158 

XVIII.  WILL  MADE  CHIEF  OF  SCOUTS  167 

XIX.  ARMY  LIFE  AT  FORT  MCPHERSON         ...      17^ 

XX.  PA-HAS-KA,  THE  LONG-HAIRED  CHIEF         •  185 

XXI.  THE  HUNT  OF  THE  GRAND  DUKE  ALEXIS       -  -      195 

XXII.  THEATRICAL  EXPERIENCES     -                         -  203 

XXIII.  THE  GOVERNMENT'S  INDIAN  POLICY      -  -      213 

XXIV.  LITERARY  WORK                       -                         -  222 
XXV.  FIRST  VISIT  TO  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  BIG  HORN  -      233 

XXVI.  TOUR  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN       -  241 

XXVII.  RETURN  OF  THE  "WILD  WEST"  TO  AMERICA  -      254 

XXVIII.  A  TRIBUTE  TO  GENERAL  MILES       -  263 

XXIX.  THE  "WILD  WEST"  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR    -  -      268 

XXX.  CODY  DAY  AT  THE  OMAHA  EXPOSITION      -            •  279 

XXXI.  THE  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS         ...     290 


vii 


GENEALOGY  OF  BUFFALO  BILL. 

The  following  genealogical  sketch  was  compiled  in  1897. 
The  crest  is  copied  from  John  Rooney's  "Genealogical 
History  of  Irish  Families." 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  genuine  royal  blood 
courses  in  Colonel  Cody's  veins.  He  is  a  lineal  descendant 
of  Milesius,  king  of  Spain,  that  famous  monarch  whose 
three  sons,  Heber,  Heremon,  and  Ir,  founded  the  first 
dynasty  in  Ireland,  about  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
era.  The  Cody  family  comes  through  the  line  of  Heremon. 
The  original  name  was  Tireach,  which  signifies  "The 
Rocks."  Muiredach  Tireach,  one  of  the  first  of  this  line, 
and  son  of  Fiacha  Straivetine,  was  crowned  king  of  Ireland, 
Anno  Domini  320.  Another  of  the  line  became  king  of 
Connaught,  Anno  Domini  701.  The  possessions  of  the 
Sept  were  located  in  the  present  counties  of  Clare,  Galway, 
and  Mayo.  The  names  Connaught-Gallway,  after  cen- 
turies, gradually  contracted  to  Connallway,  Connellway, 
Connelly,  Conly,  Cory,  Coddy,  Coidy,  and  Cody,  and  is 
clearly  shown  by  ancient  indentures  still  traceable  among 
existing  records.  On  the  maternal  side,  Colonel  Cody  can, 
without  difficulty,  follow  his  lineage  to  the  best  blood  of 
England.  Several  of  the  Cody  family  emigrated  to  America 
in  1747,  settling  in  Maryland,  Pennsylvania,  and  Virginia. 
The  name  is  frequently  mentioned  in  Revolutionary  his- 
tory. Colonel  Cody  is  a  member  of  the  Cody  family  of 
Revolutionary  fame.  Like  the  other  Spanish-Irish  families, 
the  Codys  have  their  proof  of  ancestry  in  the  form  of  a 

xi 


xii  GENEALOGY  OF   BUFFALO  BILL. 

crest,  the  one  which  Colonel  Cody  is  entitled  to  use  being 
printed  herewith.  The  lion  signifies  Spanish  origin.  It  is 
the  same  figure  that  forms  a  part  of  the  royal  coat-of-arms 
of  Spain  to  this  day — Castile  and  Leon.  The  arm  and 
cross  denote  that  the  descent  is  through  the  line  of  Here- 
mon,  whose  posterity  were  among  the  first  to  follow  the 
cross,  as  a  symbol  of  their  adherence  to  the  Christian  faith. 


PREFACE. 

In  presenting  this  volume  to  the  public  the  writer  has  a 
twofold  purpose.  For  a  number  of  years  there  has  been 
an  increasing  demand  for  an  authentic  biography  of  "Buf- 
falo Bill,"  and  in  response,  many  books  of  varying  value 
have  been  submitted;  yet  no  one  of  them  has  borne  the 
hall-mark  of  veracious  history.  Naturally,  there  were 
incidents  in  Colonel  Cody's  life — more  especially  in  the 
earlier  years  —  that  could  be  given  only  by  those  with 
whom  he  had  grown  up  from  childhood.  For  many  inci- 
dents of  his  later  life  I  am  indebted,  to  his  own  and  others' 
accounts.  I  desire  to  acknowledge  obligation  to  General 
P.  H.  Sheridan,  Colonel  Inman,  Colonel  Ingraham,  and  my 
brother  for  valuable  assistance  furnished  by  Sheridan's 
Memoirs,  "The  Santa  Fe"  Trail,"  "The  Great  Salt  Lake 
Trail,"  "Buffalo  Bill's  Autobiography,"  and  "Stories  from 
the  Life  of  Buffalo  Bill." 

A  second  reason  that  prompted  the  writing  of  my 
brother's  life-story  is  purely  personal.  The  sobriquet  of 
"Buffalo  Bill"  has  conveyed  to  many  people  an  impression 
of  his  personality  that  is  far  removed  from  the  facts.  They 
have  pictured  in  fancy  a  rough  frontier  character,  without 
tenderness  and  true  nobility.  But  in  very  truth  has  the 
poet  sung: 

"The  gravest  are  the  tenderest — 
The  loving  are  the  daring." 

The  public  knows  my  brother  as  boy  Indian-slayer,  a 
champion  buffalo-hunter,  a  brave  soldier,  a  daring  scout, 

xiii 


xiv  PREFACE. 

an  intrepid  frontiersman,  and  a  famous  exhibitor.  It  is 
only  fair  to  him  that  a  glimpse  be  given  of  the  parts  he 
played  behind  the  scenes — devotion  to  a  widowed  mother, 
that  pushed  the  boy  so  early  upon  a  stage  of  ceaseless 
action,  continued  care  and  tenderness  displayed  in  later 
years,  and  the  generous  thoughtfulness  of  manhood's  prime. 
Thus  a  part  of  my  pleasant  task  has  been  to  enable  the 
public  to  see  my  brother  through  his  sister's  eyes — eyes 
that  have  seen  truly  if  kindly.  If  I  have  been  tempted 
into  praise  where  simple  narrative  might  to  the  reader 
seem  all  that  was  required,  if  I  have  seemed  to  exaggerate 
in  any  of  my  history's  details,  I  may  say  that  I  am  not 
conscious  of  having  set  down  more  than  "a  plain,  unvar- 
nished tale."  Embarrassed  with  riches  of  fact,  I  have  had 
no  thought  of  fiction. 

H.  C.  W. 

CODYVIEW,  DULUTH,  MINNESOTA, 

February  26,  1899. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS; 


CHAPTER  I.     >,-      , 

THE   OLD   HOMESTEAD   IN   IOWA. 


A  PLEASANT,  roomy  farm-house,  set  in  the  sunlight  against 
a  background  of  cool,  green  wood  and  mottled  meadow — 
this  is  the  picture  that  my  earliest  memories  frame  for  me. 
To  this  home  my  parents,  Isaac  and  Mary  Cody,  had 
moved  soon  after  their  marriage. 

The  place  was  known  as  the  Scott  farm,  and  was  situ- 
ated in  Scott  County,  Iowa,  near  the  historic  little  town 
of  Le  Clair,  where,  but  a  few  years  before,  a  village  of  the 
Fox  Indians  had  been  located ;  where  Black  Hawk  and  his 
thousand  warriors  had  assembled  for  their  last  war-dance; 
where  the  marquee  of  General  Scott  was  erected,  and  the 
treaty  with  the  Sacs  and  Foxes  drawn  up;  and  where,  in 
obedience  to  the  Sac  chief's  terms,  Antoine  Le  Clair,  the 
famous  half-breed  Indian  scholar  and  interpreter,  had  built 
his  cabin,  and  given  to  the  place  his  name.  Here,  in  this 
atmosphere  of  pioneer  struggle  and  Indian  warfare — in  the 
farm-house  in  the  dancing  sunshine,  with  the  background 
of  wood  and  meadow  —  my  brother,  William  Frederick 
Cody,  was  born,  on  the  26th  day  of  February,  1846. 

Of  the  good,  old-fashioned  sort  was  our  family,  num- 
bering five  daughters  and  two  sons — Martha,  Samuel, 
Julia,  William,  Eliza,  Helen,  and  May.  Samuel,  a  lad  of 

i 


2  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

unusual  beauty  of  face  and  nature,  was  killed  through  an 
unhappy  accident  before  he  was  yet  fourteen. 

He  was  riding  " Betsy  Baker,"  a  mare  well  known 
among  old  settlers  in  Iowa  as  one  of  speed  and  pedigree, 
yet  displaying  at  times  a  most  malevolent  temper,  accom- 
panied .by!  Will,  who,  though  only  seven  years  of  age,  yet 
sat  his-  pony  w-iih  the  ease  and  grace  that  distinguished  the 
v£te,r^n  rider;  of  ,th^  future.  Presently  Betsy  Baker  became 
fractious,  and*  sought  to  throw  her  rider.  In  vain  did  she 
rear  and  plunge;  he  kept  his  saddle.  Then,  seemingly, 
she  gave  up  the  fight,  and  Samuel  cried,  in  boyish  exulta- 
tion : 

"Ah,  Betsy  Baker,  you  didn't  quite  come  it  that  time!" 

His  last  words!  As  if  she  knew  her  rider  was  a  careless 
victor  off  his  guard,  the  mare  reared  suddenly  and  flung 
herself  upon  her  back,  crushing  the  daring  boy  beneath  her. 

Though  to  us  younger  children  our  brother  Samuel  was 
but  a  shadowy  memory,  in  him  had  centered  our  parents' 
fondest  hopes  and  aims.  These,  naturally,  were  trans- 
ferred to  the  younger,  now  the  only  son,  and  the  hope  that 
mother,  especially,  held  for  him  was  strangely  stimulated 
by  the  remembrance  of  the  mystic  divination  of  a  sooth- 
sayer in  the  years  agone.  My  mother  was  a  woman  of  too 
much  intelligence  and  force  of  character  to  nourish  an 
average  superstition;  but  prophecies  fulfilled  will  temper, 
though  they  may  not  shake,  the  smiling  unbelief  of  the 
most  hard-headed  skeptic.  Mother's  moderate  skepticism 
was  not  proof  against  the  strange  fulfillment  of  one  proph- 
ecy, which  fell  out  in  this  wise: 

To  a  Southern  city,  which  my  mother  visited  when  a 
girl,  there  came  a  celebrated  fortune-teller,  and  led  by  curi- 
osity, my  mother  and  my  aunt  one  day  made  two  of  the 
crowd  that  thronged  the  sibyl's  drawing-rooms. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  3 

Both  received  with  laughing  incredulity  the  prophecy 
that  my  aunt  and  the  two  children  with  her  would  be  dead 
in  a  fortnight;  but  the  dread  augury  was  fulfilled  to  the 
letter.  All  three  were  stricken  with  yellow  fever,  and  died 
within  less  than  the  time  set.  This  startling  confirmation 
of  the  soothsayer's  divining  powers  not  unnaturally  affected 
my  mother's  belief  in  that  part  of  the  prophecy  relating  to 
herself:  that  "she  would  meet  her  future  husband  on  the 
steamboat  by  which  she  expected  to  return  home;  that  she 
would  be  married  to  him  in  a  year,  and  bear  three  sons,  of 
whom  only  the  second  would  live,  but  that  the  name  of 
this  son  would  be  known  all  over  the  world,  and  would  one 
day  be  that  of  the  President  of  the  United  States."  The 
first  part  of  this  prophecy  was  verified,  and  Samuel's  death 
was  another  link  in  the  curious  chain  of  circumstances. 
Was  it,  then,  strange  that  mother  looked  with  unusual 
hope  upon  her  second  son? 

That  'tis  good  fortune  for  a  boy  to  be  only  brother  to 
five  sisters  is  open  to  question.  The  older  girls  petted 
Will;  the  younger  regarded  him  as  a  superior  being;  while 
to  all  it  seemed  so  fit  and  proper  that  the  promise  of  the 
stars  concerning  his  future  should  be  fulfilled  that  never  for 
a  moment  did  we  weaken  in  our  belief  that  great  things 
were  in  store  for  our  only  brother.  We  looked  for  the 
prophecy's  complete  fulfillment,  and  with  childish  venera- 
tion regarded  Will  as  one  destined  to  sit  in  the  executive's 
chair. 

My  mother,  always  somewhat  delicate,  was  so  affected 
in  health  by  the  shock  of  Samuel's  death  that  a  change  of 
scene  was  advised.  The  California  gold  craze  was  then  at 
its  height,  and  father  caught  the  fever,  though  in  a  mild 
form ;  for  he  had  prospered  as  a  farmer,  and  we  not  only 
had  a  comfortable  home,  but  were  in  easy  circumstances. 


4  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Influenced  in  part  by  a  desire  to  improve  mother's  health, 
and  in  part,  no  doubt,  by  the  golden  day-dreams  that  lured 
so  many  Argonauts  Pacificward,  he  disposed  of  his  farm, 
and  bade  us  prepare  for  a  Western  journey.  Before  his 
plans  were  completed  he  fell  in  with  certain  disappointed 
gold-seekers  returning  from  the  Coast,  and  impressed  by 
their  representations,  decided  in  favor  of  Kansas  instead  of 
California. 

Father  had  very  extravagant  ideas  regarding  vehicles 
and  horses,  and  such  a  passion  for  equestrian  display,  that 
we  often  found  ourselves  with  a  stable  full  of  thoroughbreds 
and  an  empty  cupboard.  For  our  Western  migration  we 
had,  in  addition  to  three  prairie-schooners,  a  large  family 
carriage,  drawn  by  a  span  of  fine  horses  in  silver-mounted 
harness.  This  carriage  had  been  made  to  order  in  the 
East,  upholstered  in  the  finest  leather,  polished  and  var- 
nished as  though  for  a  royal  progress.  Mother  and  we 
girls  found  it  more  comfortable  riding  than  the  springless 
prairie-schooners. 

Brother  Will  constituted  himself  an  armed  escort,  and 
rode  proudly  alongside  on  his  pony,  his  gun  slung  across 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  the  dog  Turk  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

To  him  this  Western  trip  thrilled  with  possible  Indian 
skirmishes  and  other  stirring  adventures,  though  of  the  real 
dangers  that  lay  in  our  path  he  did  not  dream.  For  him, 
therefore,  the  first  week  of  our  travels  held  no  great  inter- 
est, for  we  were  constantly  chancing  upon  settlers  and 
farm-houses,  in  which  the  night  might  be  passed ;  but  with 
every  mile  the  settlers  grew  fewer  and  farther  between, 
until  one  day  Will  whispered  to  us,  in  great  glee:  "I  heard 
father  tell  mother  that  he  expected  we  should  have  to  camp 
to-night.  Now  we'll  have  some  fun!" 


Hftl 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  5 

Will's  hope  was  well  founded.  Shortly  before  nightfall 
we  reached  a  stream  that  demanded  a  ferry-boat  for  its 
crossing,  and  as  the  nearest  dwelling  was  a  dozen  miles 
away,  it  was  decided  that  we  should  camp  by  the  stream- 
side.  The  family  was  first  sent  across  the  ferry,  and  upon 
the  eight-year-old  lad  of  the  house  father  placed  the 
responsibility  of  selecting  the  ground  on  which  to  pitch  the 
tents. 

My  brother* s  career  forcibly  illustrates  the  fact  that 
environment  plays  as  large  a  part  as  heredity  in  shaping 
character.  Perhaps  his  love  for  the  free  life  of  the  plains 
is  a  heritage  derived  from  some  long-gone  ancestor;  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  to  the  earlier  experiences  of 
which  I  am  writing  he  owed  his  ability  as  a  scout.  The 
faculty  for  obtaining  water,  striking  trails,  and  finding 
desirable  camping-grounds  in  him  seemed  almost  instinct. 

The  tents  being  pitched  upon  a  satisfactory  site,  Will 
called  to  Turk,  the  dog,  and  rifle  in  hand,  set  forth  in 
search  of  game  for  supper.  He  was  successful  beyond  his 
fondest  hopes.  He  had  looked  only  for  small  game,  but 
scarcely  had  he  put  the  camp  behind  him  when  Turk  gave 
a  signaling  yelp,  and  out  of  the  bushes  bounded  a  magnifi- 
cent deer.  Nearly  every  hunter  will  confess  to  "buck 
fever"  at  sight  of  his  first  deer,  so  it  is  not  strange  that  a 
boy  of  Will's  age  should  have  stood  immovable,  staring 
dazedly  at  the  graceful  animal  until  it  vanished  from  sight. 
Turk  gave  chase,  but  soon  trotted  back,  and  barked 
reproachfully  at  his  young  master.  But  Will  presently  had 
an  opportunity  to  recover  Turk's  good  opinion,  for  the 
dog,  after  darting  away,  with  another  signaling  yelp  fetched 
another  fine  stag  within  gun  range.  This  time  the  young 
hunter,  mastering  his  nerves,  took  aim  with  steady  hand, 
and  brought  down  his  first  deer. 


6          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

On  the  following  Sabbath  we  were  encamped  by  another 
deep,  swift-running  stream.  After  being  wearied  and 
overheated  by  a  rabbit  chase,  Turk  attempted  to  swim 
across  this  little  river,  but  was  chilled,  and  would  have  per- 
ished had  not  Will  rushed  to  the  rescue.  The  ferryman 
saw  the  boy  struggling  with  the  dog  in  the  water,  and 
started  after  him  with  his  boat.  But  Will  reached  the 
bank  without  assistance. 

"I've  hearn  of  dogs  saving  children,  but  this  is  the  first 
time  I  ever  hearn  of  a  child  saving  a  dog  from  drowning," 
ejaculated  the  ferryman.  "How  old  be  you?" 

"Eight,  going  on  nine,"  answered  Will. 

"You're  a  big  boy  for  your  age,"  said  the  man.  "But 
it's  a  wonder  you  didn't  sink  with  that  load ;  he's  a  big  old 
fellow,"  referring  to  Turk,  who,  standing  on  three  feet, 
was  vigorously  shaking  the  water  from  his  coat.  Will  at 
once  knelt  down  beside  him,  and  taking  the  uplifted  foot 
in  his  hands,  remarked:  "He  must  have  sprained  one  of 
his  legs  when  he  fell  over  that  log;  he  doesn't  whine  like 
your  common  curs  when  they  get  hurt." 

"He's  blooded  stock,  then,"  said  the  man.  "What 
kind  of  dog  do  you  call  him?" 

"He's  an  Ulm  dog,"  said  Will. 

"I  never  heard  tell  of  that  kind  of  dog  before." 

"Did  you 'ever  hear  of  a  tiger-mastiff,  German  mastiff, 
boar-hound,  great  Dane?  Turk's  all  of  them  together." 

"Well,"  said  the  ferryman,  "you're  a  pretty  smart  little 
fellow,  and  got  lots  of  grit.  You  ought  to  make  your  mark 
in  the  world.  But  right  now  you  had  better  get  into  some 
dry  clothes."  And  on  the  invitation  of  the  ferryman, 
Will  and  the  limping  dog  got  into  the  boat,  and  were 
taken  back  to  camp. 

Turk  played  so  conspicuous  and  important  a  part  in 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  7 

our  early  lives  that  he  deserves  a  brief  description.  He 
was  a  large  and  powerful  animal  of  the  breed  of  dogs 
anciently  used  in  Germany  in  hunting  the  wild  boars. 
Later  the  dogs  were  imported  into  England,  where  they 
were  particularly  valued  by  people  desiring  a  strong,  brave 
watch-dog.  When  specially  trained,  they  are  more  fierce 
and  active  than  the  English  mastiff.  Naturally  they  are 
not  as  fond  of  the  water  as  the  spaniel,  the  stag-hound,  or 
the  Newfoundland,  though  they  are  the  king  of  dogs  on 
land.  Not  alone  Will,  but  the  rest  of  the  family,  regarded 
Turk  as  the  best  of  his  kind,  and  he  well  deserved  the 
veneration  he  inspired.  His  fidelity  and  almost  human 
intelligence  were  time  and  again  the  means  of  saving  life 
and  property;  ever  faithful,  loyal,  and  ready  to  lay  down 
his  life,  if  need  be,  in  our  service. 

Outlaws  and  desperadoes  were  always  to  be  met  with  on 
Western  trails  in  those  rugged  days,  and  more  than  once 
Turk's  constant  vigilance  warned  father  in  time  to  prevent 
attacks  from  suspicious  night  prowlers.  The  attachment 
which  had  grown  up  between  Turk  and  his  young  master 
was  but  the  natural  love  of  boys  for  their  dogs  intensified. 
Will  at  that  time  estimated  dogs  as  in  later  years  he  did 
men,  the  qualities  which  he  found  to  admire  in  Turk  being 
vigilance,  strength,  courage,  and  constancy.  With  men, 
as  with  dogs,  he  is  not  lavishly  demonstrative ;  rarely  pats 
them  on  the  back.  But  deeds  of  merit  do  not  escape  his 
notice  or  want  his  appreciation.  The  patience,  unselfish- 
ness, and  true  nobility  observed  in  this  faithful  canine 
friend  of  his  boyhood  days  have  many  times  proved  to  be 
lacking  in  creatures  endowed  with  a  soul ;  yet  he  has  never 
lost  faith  in  mankind,  or  in  the  ultimate  destiny  of  his  race. 
This  I  conceive  to  be  a  characteristic  of  all  great  men. 

This  trip  was  memorable  for  all  of  us,  perhaps  especially 


8  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

so  for  brother  Will,  for  it  comprehended  not  only  his  first 
deer,  but  his  first  negro. 

As  we  drew  near  the  Missouri  line  we  came  upon  a 
comfortable  farm-house,  at  which  father  made  inquiry  con- 
cerning a  lodging  for  the  night.  A  widow  lived  there,  and 
the  information  that  father  was  brother  to  Elijah  Cody,  of 
Platte  County,  Missouri,  won  us  a  cordial  welcome  and  the 
hospitality  of  her  home. 

We  were  yet  in  the  road,  waiting  father's  report,  when 
our  startled  vision  and  childish  imagination  took  in  a  seem- 
ing apparition,  which  glided  from  the  bushes  by  the  way- 
side. 

It  proved  a  full-blooded  African,  with  thick  lips,  woolly 
hair,  enormous  feet,  and  scant  attire.  To  all  except 
mother  this  was  a  new  revelation  of  humanity,  and  we 
stared  in  wild-eyed  wonder;  even  Turk  was  surprised  into 
silence.  At  this  point  father  rejoined  us,  to  share  in 
mother's  amusement,  and  to  break  the  spell  for  us  by 
pleasantly  addressing  the  negro,  who  returned  a  respectful 
answer,  accompanied  by  an  ample  grin.  He  was  a  slave 
on  the  widow's  plantation. 

Reassured  by  the  grin,  Will  offered  his  hand,  and  tasted 
the  joy  of  being  addressed  as  "Massa"  in  the  talk  that  fol- 
lowed. It  was  with  difficulty  that  we  prevailed  upon 
"Massa"  to  come  to  supper. 

After  a  refreshing  night's  sleep  we  went  on  our  way, 
and  in  a  few  days  reached  my  uncle's  home.  A  rest  was 
welcome,  as  the  journey  had  been  long  and  toilsome, 
despite  the  fact  that  it  had  been  enlivened  by  many  inter- 
esting incidents,  and  was  thoroughly  enjoyed  by  all  of  the 
family. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WILL'S    FIRST   INDIAN. 

MY  uncle's  home  was  in  Weston,  Platte  County,  Missouri, 
at  that  time  the  large  city  of  the  West.  As  father  desired 
to  get  settled  again  as  soon  as  possible,  he  left  us  at 
Weston,  and  crossed  the  Missouri  River  on  a  prospecting 
tour,  accompanied  by  Will  and  a  guide.  More  than  one 
day  went  by  in  the  quest  for  a  desirable  location,  and  one 
morning  Will,  wearied  in  the  reconnoissance,  was  left 
asleep  at  the  night's  camping-place,  while  father  and  the 
guide  rode  away  for  the  day's  exploring. 

When  Will  opened  his  eyes  they  fell  upon  the  most 
interesting  object  that  the  world  just  then  could  offer 
him — an  Indian! 

The  "noble  red  man,"  as  he  has  been  poetically  termed 
by  people  who  have  but  known  him  from  afar,  was  in  the 
act  of  mounting  Will's  horse,  while  near  by  stood  his  own, 
a  miserable,  scrawny  beast. 

Will's  boyish  dreams  were  now  a  reality;  he  looked 
upon  his  first  Indian.  Here,  too,  was  a  "buck" — not  a 
graceful,  vanishing  deer,  but  a  dirty  redskin,  who  seemingly 
was  in  some  hurry  to  be  gone.  Without  a  trace  of  "buck 
fever,"  Will  jumped  up,  rifle  in  hand,  and  demanded: 

"Here,  what  are  you  doing  with  my  horse?" 

The  Indian  regarded  the  lad  with  contemptuous  com- 
posure. 

"Me  swap  horses  with  paleface  boy,"  said  he. 

9 


io  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

The  red  man  was  fully  armed,  and  Will  did  not  know 
whether  his  father  and  the  guide  were  within  call  or  not; 
but  to  suffer  the  Indian  to  ride  away  with  Uncle  Elijah's 
fine  horse  was  to  forfeit  his  father's  confidence  and  shake 
his  mother's  and  sisters'  belief  in  the  family  hero;  so  he 
put  a  bold  face  upon  the  matter,  and  remarked  carelessly, 
as  if  discussing  a  genuine  transaction : 

"No;  I  won't  swap." 

"Paleface  boy  fool!"  returned  the  Indian,  serenely. 

Now  this  was  scarcely  the  main  point  at  issue,  so  Will 
contented  himself  with  replying,  quietly  but  firmly: 

"You  cannot  take  my  horse." 

The  Indian  condescended  to  temporize.  "Paleface 
horse  no  good,"  said  he. 

"Good  enough  for  me,"  replied  Will,  smiling  despite 
the  gravity  of  the  situation.  The  Indian  shone  rather  as 
a  liar  than  a  judge  of  horseflesh.  "Good  enough  for  me; 
so  you  can  take  your  old  rack  of  bones  and  go." 

Much  to  Will's  surprise,  the  red  man  dropped  the  rein, 
flung  himself  upon  his  own  pony,  and  made  off.  And 
down  fell  "Lo  the  poor  Indian"  from  the  exalted  niche 
that  he  had  filled  in  Will's  esteem,  for  while  it  was  bad  in 
a  copper  hero  to  steal  horses,  it  was  worse  to  flee  from  a 
boy  not  yet  in  his  teens.  But  a  few  moments  later  Lo 
went  back  to  his  lofty  pedestal,  for  Will  heard  the  guide's 
voice,  and  realized  that  it  was  the  sight  of  a  man,  and  not 
the  threats  of  a  boy,  that  had  sent  the  Indian  about  his 
business — if  he  had  any. 

The  guide  had  returned  to  escort  Will  to  the  spot 
which  father,  after  a  search  of  nearly  a  week,  had  discov- 
ered, and  where  he  had  decided  to  locate  our  home.  It 
was  in  Salt  Creek  Valley,  a  fertile  blue-grass  region,  shel- 
tered by  an  amphitheater  range  of  hills.  The  old  Salt  Lake 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          1 1 

trail  traversed  this  valley.  There  were  at  this  time  two 
great  highways  of  Western  travel,  the  Santa  F£  and  the 
Salt  Lake  trails;  later  the  Oregon  trail  came  into  promi- 
nence. Of  these  the  oldest  and  most  historic  was  the 
Santa  F£  trail,  the  route  followed  by  explorers  three  hun- 
dred years  ago.  It  had  been  used  by  Indian  tribes  from 
time,  to  white  men,  immemorial.  At  the  beginning  of 
this  century  it  was  first  used  as  an  artery  of  commerce. 
Over  it  Zebulon  Pike  made  his  well-known  Western  trip, 
and  from  it  radiated  his  explorations.  The  trail  lay  some 
distance  south  of  Leavenworth.  It  ran  westward,  dipping 
slightly  to  the  south  until  the  Arkansas  River  was  reached ; 
then,  following  the  course  of  this  stream  to  Bent's  Fort,  it 
crossed  the  river  and  turned  sharply  to  the  south.  It  went 
through  Raton  Pass,  and  below  Las  Vegas  it  turned  west 
to  Santa  F6. 

Exploration  along  the  line  of  the  Salt  Lake  trail  began 
also  with  this  century.  It  became  a  beaten  highway  at  the 
time  of  the  Mormon  exodus  from  Nauvoo  to  their  present 
place  of  abode.  The  trail  crossed  the  Missouri  River  at 
Leavenworth,  and  ran  northerly  to  the  Platte,  touching 
that  stream  at  Fort  Kearny.  With  a  few  variations  it 
paralleled  the  Platte  to  its  junction  with  the  Sweetwater, 
and  left  this  river  valley  to  run  through  South  Pass  to  big 
Sandy  Creek,  turning  south  to  follow  this  little  stream. 
At  Fort  Bridger  it  turned  westward  again,  passed  Echo 
Canon,  and  a  few  miles  farther  on  ran  into  Salt  Lake 
City.  Over  this  trail  journeyed  thousands  of  gold-hunters 
toward  California,  hopeful  and  high-spirited  on  the  westerly 
way,  disappointed  and  depressed,  the  large  majority  of 
them,  on  the  back  track.  Freighting  outfits,  cattle  trains, 
emigrants — nearly  all  the  western  travel — followed  this 
track  across  the  new  land.  A  man  named  Rively,  with  the 


12          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

gift  of  grasping  the  advantage  of  location,  had  obtained 
permission  to  establish  a  trading-post  on  this  trail  three 
miles  beyond  the  Missouri,  and  as  proximity  to  this  depot 
of  supplies  was  a  manifest  convenience,  father's  selection 
of  a  claim  only  two  miles  distant  was  a  wise  one. 

The  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  which  provided  for  the 
organizing  of  those  two  territories  and  opened  them  for 
settlement,  was  passed  in  May,  1854.  This  bill  directly 
opposed  the  Missouri  Compromise,  which  restricted  slavery 
to  all  territory  south  of  36°  30"  north  latitude.  A  clause 
in  the  new  bill  provided  that  the  settlers  should  decide  for 
themselves  whether  the  new  territories  were  to  be  free  or 
slave  states.  Already  hundreds  of  settlers  were  camped 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Missouri,  waiting  the  passage  of  the 
bill  before  entering  and  acquiring  possession  of  the  land. 
Across  the  curtain  of  the  night  ran  a  broad  ribbon  of  dan- 
cing camp-fires,  stretching  for  miles  along  the  bank  of  the 
river. 

None  too  soon  had  father  fixed  upon  his  claim.  The 
act  allowing  settlers  to  enter  was  passed  in  less  than  a  week 
afterward.  Besides  the  pioneers  intending  actual  settle- 
ment, a  great  rush  was  made  into  the  territories  by  mem- 
bers of  both  political  parties.  These  became  the  gladiators, 
with  Kansas  the  arena,  for  a  bitter,  bloody  contest  between 
those  desiring  and  those  opposing  the  extension  of  slave 
territory. 

Having  already  decided  upon  his  location,  father  was 
among  the  first,  after  the  bill  was  passed,  to  file  a  claim 
and  procure  the  necessary  papers,  and  shortly  afterward  he 
had  a  transient  abiding-place  prepared  for  us.  Whatever 
mother  may  have  thought  of  the  one-roomed  cabin,  whose 
chinks  let  in  the  sun  by  day  and  the  moon  and  stars  by 
night,  and  whose  carpet  was  nature* s  greenest  velvet,  life 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          13 

in  it  was  a  perennial  picnic  for. the  children.  Meantime 
father  was  at  work  on  our  permanent  home,  and  before  the 
summer  fled  we  were  domiciled  in  a  large  double-log  house — 
rough  and  primitive,  but  solid  and  comfort-breeding. 

This  same  autumn  held  an  episode  so  deeply  graven  in 
my  memory  that  time  has  not  blurred  a  line  of  it.  Jane, 
our  faithful  maid  of  all  work,  who  went  with  us  to  our 
Western  home,  had  little  time  to  play  the  governess. 
Household  duties  claimed  her  every  waking  hour,  as  mother 
was  delicate,  and  the  family  a  large  one;  so  Turk  officiated 
as  both  guardian  and  playmate  of  the  children 

One  golden  September  day  Eliza  and  I  set  out  after 
wild  flowers,  accompanied  by  Turk  and  mother's  caution 
not  to  stray  too  far,  as  wild  beasts,  'twas  said,  lurked  in 
the  neighboring  forest;  but  the  prettiest  flowers  were 
always  just  beyond,  and  we  wandered  afield  until  we 
reached  a  fringe  of  timber  half  a  mile  from  the  house,  where 
we  tarried  under  the  trees.  Meantime  mother  grew 
alarmed,  and  Will  was  dispatched  after  the  absent  tots. 

Turk,  as  we  recalled,  had  sought  to  put  a  check  upon 
our  wanderings,  and  when  we  entered  the  woods  his  rest- 
lessness increased.  Suddenly  he  began  to  paw  up  the  car- 
pet of  dry  leaves,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  shrill  scream 
of  a  panther  echoed  through  the  forest  aisles. 

Eliza  was  barely  six  years  old,  and  I  was  not  yet  four. 
We  clung  to  each  other  in  voiceless  terror.  Then  from  afar 
came  a  familiar  whistle — Will's  call  to  his  dog.  That 
heartened  us,  babes  as  we  were,  for  was  not  our  brother 
our  reliance  in  every  emergency?  Rescue  was  at  hand; 
but  Turk  continued  tearing  up  the  leaves,  after  signaling 
his  master  with  a  loud  bark.  Then,  pulling  at  our  dresses, 
he  indicated  the  refuge  he  had  dug  for  us.  Here  we  lay 
down,  and  the  dog  covered  us  with  the  leaves,  dragging  to 


H          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

the  heap,  as  a  further  screen,  a  large  dead  branch.  Then, 
with  the  heart  of  a  lion,  he  put  himself  on  guard. 

From  our  leafy  covert  we  could  see  the  panther's 
tawny  form  come  gliding  through  the  brush.  He  saw 
Turk,  and  crouched  for  a  spring.  This  came  as  an  arrow, 
but  Turk  dodged  it;  and  then,  with  a  scream  such  as  I 
never  heard  from  dog  before  or  since,  our  defender  hurled 
himself  upon  the  foe. 

Turk  was  powerful,  and  his  courage  was  flawless,  but 
he  was  no  match  for  the  panther.  In  a  few  moments  the 
faithful  dog  lay  stunned  and  bleeding  from  one  stroke  of 
the  forest-rover's  steel-shod  paw.  The  cruel  beast  had 
scented  other  prey,  and  dismissing  Turk,  he  paced  to  and 
fro,  seeking  to  locate  us.  We  scarcely  dared  to  breathe, 
and  every  throb  of  our  frightened  little  hearts  was  a  prayer 
that  Will  would  come  to  us  in  time. 

At  last  the  panther's  roving  eyes  rested  upon  our  inade- 
quate hiding-place,  and  as  he  crouched  for  the  deadly  leap 
we  hid  our  faces. 

But  Turk  had  arisen.  Wounded  as  he  was,  he  yet 
made  one  last  heroic  effort  to  save  us  by  again  directing 
the  panther's  attention  to  himself. 

The  helpless,  hopeless  ordeal  of  agony  was  broken  by  a 
rifle's  sharp  report.  The  panther  fell,  shot  through  the 
heart,  and  out  from  the  screen  of  leaves  rushed  two  hys- 
terical little  girls,  with  pallid  faces  drowned  in  tears,  who 
clung  about  a  brother's  neck  and  were  shielded  in  his 
arms. 

Will,  himself  but  a  child,  caressed  and  soothed  us  in  a 
most  paternal  fashion;  and  when  the  storm  of  sobs  was 
passed  we  turned  to  Turk.  Happily  his  injuries  were 
not  fatal,  and  he  whined  feebly  when  his  master  reached 
him. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  15 

"Bravo!  Good  dog!"  cried  Will.  "You  saved  them, 
Turk!  You  saved  them!"  And  kneeling  beside  our  faith- 
ful friend,  he  put  his  arms  about  the  shaggy  neck. 

Dear  old  Turk!  If  there  be  a  land  beyond  the  sky  for 
such  as  thou,  may  the  snuggest  corner  and  best  of  bones 
be  thy  reward! 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   SHADOW    OF   PARTISAN    STRIFE. 

OWING  to  the  conditions,  already  spoken  of,  under  which 
Kansas  was  settled,  all  classes  were  represented  in  its  pop- 
ulation. Honest,  thrifty  farmers  and  well-to-do  traders 
leavened  a  lump  of  shiftless  ne'er-do-wells,  lawless  adven- 
turers, and  vagabonds  of  all  sorts  and  conditions.  If  father 
at  times  questioned  the  wisdom  of  coming  to  this  new  and 
untried  land,  he  kept  his  own  counsel,  and  set  a  brave  face 
against  the  future. 

He  had  been  prominent  in  political  circles  in  Iowa,  and 
had  filled  positions  of  public  trust ;  but  he  had  no  wish  to 
become  involved  in  the  partisan  strife  that  raged  in  Kansas. 
He  was  a  Free  Soil  man,  and  there  were  but  two  others  in 
that  section  who  did  not  believe  in  slavery.  For  a  year  he 
kept  his  political  views  to  himself;  but  it  became  rumored 
about  that  he  was  an  able  public  speaker,  and  the  pro- 
slavery  men  naturally  ascribed  to  him  the  same  opinions  as 
those  held  by  his  brother  Elijah,  a  pronounced  pro-slavery 
man ;  so  they  regarded  father  as  a  promising  leader  in  their 
cause.  He  had  avoided  the  issue,  and  had  skillfully  con- 
trived to  escape  declaring  for  one  side  or  the  other,  but  on 
the  scroll  of  his  destiny  it  was  written  that  he  should  be 
one  of  the  first  victims  offered  on  the  sacrificial  altar  of  the 
struggle  for  human  liberty. 

The  post-trader's  was  a  popular  rendezvous  for  all  the 
settlers  round.     It  was  a  day  in  the  summer  of  '55  that 

16 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  i? 

father  visited  the  store,  accompanied,  as  usual,  by  Will  and 
Turk.  Among  the  crowd,  which  was  noisy  and  excited, 
he  noted  a  number  of  desperadoes  in  the  pro-slavery  fac- 
tion, and  noted,  too,  that  Uncle  Elijah  and  our  two  Free 
Soil  neighbors,  Mr.  Hathaway  and  Mr.  Lawrence,  were 
present. 

Father's  appearance  was  greeted  by  a  clamor  for  a 
speech.  To  speak  before  that  audience  was  to  take  his 
life  in  his  hands;  yet  in  spite  of  his  excuses  he  was  forced 
to  the  chair. 

It  was  written !  There  was  no  escape !  Father  walked 
steadily  to  the  dry-goods  box  which  served  as  a  rostrum. 
As  he  passed  Mr.  Hathaway,  the  good  old  man  plucked 
him  by  the  sleeve  and  begged  him  to  serve  out  platitudes 
to  the  crowd,  and  to  screen  his  real  sentiments. 

But  father  was  not  a  man  that  dealt  in  platitudes. 

"Friends,"  said  he,  quietly,  as  he  faced  his  audience 
and  drew  himself  to  his  full  height, — "friends,  you  are  mis- 
taken in  your  man.  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you.  I  have 
no  wish  to  quarrel  with  you.  But  you  have  forced  me  to 
speak,  and  I  can  do  no  less  than  declare  my  real  convic- 
tions. I  am,  and  always  have  been,  opposed  to  slavery. 
It  is  an  institution  that  not  only  degrades  the  slave,  but 
brutalizes  the  slave-holder,  and  I  pledge  you  my  word  that 
I  shall  use  my  best  endeavors — yes,  that  I  shall  lay  down 
my  life,  if  need  be — to  keep  this  curse  from  finding  lodg- 
ment upon  Kansas  soil.  It  is  enough  that  the  fairest  por- 
tions of  our  land  are  already  infected  with  this  blight. 
May  it  spread  no  farther.  All  my  energy  and  my  ability 
shall  swell  the  effort  to  bring  in  Kansas  as  a  Free  Soil 
state." 

Up  to  this  point  the  crowd  had  been  so  dumfounded 
by  his  temerity  that  they  kept  an  astonished  silence.  Now 


1 8          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

the  storm  broke.  The  rumble  of  angry  voices  swelled  into 
a  roar  of  fury.  An  angry  mob  surrounded  the  speaker. 
Several  desperadoes  leaped  forward  with  deadly  intent,  and 
one,  Charles  Dunn  by  name,  drove  his  knife  to  the  hilt  into 
the  body  of  the  brave  man  who  dared  thus  openly  to  avow 
his  principles. 

As  father  fell,  Will  sprang  to  him,  and  turning  to  the 
murderous  assailant,  cried  out  in  boyhood's  fury: 

"You  have  killed  my  father!  When  I'm  a  man  I'll  kill 
you !" 

The  crowd  slunk  away,  believing  father  dead.  The 
deed  appalled  them;  they  were  not  yet  hardened  to 
the  lawlessness  that  was  so  soon  to  put  the  state  to 
blush. 

Mr.  Hathaway  and  Will  then  carried  father  to  a  hiding- 
place  in  the  long  grass  by  the  wayside.  The  crowd 
dispersed  so  slowly  that  dusk  came  on  before  the  coast  was 
clear.  At  length,  supported  by  Will,  father  dragged  his 
way  homeward,  marking  his  tortured  progress  with  a  trail 
of  blood. 

This  path  was  afterward  referred  to  in  the  early  history 
of  Kansas  as  "The  Cody  Bloody  Trail." 

It  was  such  wild  scenes  as  these  that  left  their  impress 
on  the  youth  and  fashioned  the  Cody  -of  later  years — cool 
in  emergency,  fertile  in  resource,  swift  in  decision,  dashing 
and  intrepid  when  the  time  for  action  came. 

Our  troubles  were  but  begun.  Father's  convalescence 
was  long  and  tedious;  he  never  recovered  fully.  His 
enemies  believed  him  dead,  and  for  a  while  we  kept  the 
secret  guarded ;  but  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  be  about 
persecution  began. 

About  a  month  after  the  tragedy  at  Rively's,  Will  ran  in 
one  evening  with  the  warning  that  a  band  of  horsemen 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  19 

were  approaching.  Suspecting  trouble,  mother  put  some 
of  her  own  clothes  about  father,  gave  him  a  pail,  and  bade 
him  hide  in  the  cornfield.  He  walked  boldly  from  the 
house,  and  sheltered  by  the  gathering  dusk,  succeeded  in 
passing  the  horsemen  unchallenged.  The  latter  rode  up 
to  the  house  and  dismounted. 

"Where's  Cody?"  asked  the  leader.  He  was  informed 
that  father  was  not  at  home. 

"Lucky  for  him!"  was  the  frankly  brutal  rejoinder. 
"We'll  make  sure  work  of  the  killing  next  time." 

Disappointed  in  their  main  intention,  the  marauders 
revenged  themselves  in  their  own  peculiar  way  by  looting 
the  house  of  every  article  that  took  their  fancy;  then  they 
sat  down  with  the  announced  purpose  of  waiting  the  return 
of  their  prospective  victim. 

Fearing  the  effect  of  the  night  air  upon  father,  though 
it  was  yet  summer,  mother  made  a  sign  to  Will,  who 
slipped  from  the  room,  and  guided  by  Turk,  carried 
blankets  to  the  cornfield,  returning  before  his  absence  had 
been  remarked.  The  ruffians  soon  tired  of  waiting,  and 
rode  away,  after  warning  mother  of  the  brave  deed  they 
purposed  to  perform.  Father  came  in  for  the  night, 
returning  to  his  covert  with  the  dawn. 

In  expectation  of  some  such  raid,  we  had  secreted  a 
good  stock  of  provisions;  but  as  soon  as  the  day  was  up 
Will  was  dispatched  to  Rively's  store  to  reconnoiter,  under 
pretext  of  buying  groceries.  Keeping  eyes  and  ears  open, 
he  learned  that  father's  enemies  were  on  the  watch  for 
him ;  so  the  cornfield  must  remain  his  screen.  After  sev- 
eral days,  the  exposure  and  anxiety  told  on  his  strength. 
He  decided  to  leave  home  and  go  to  Fort  Leavenworth, 
four  miles  distant.  When  night  fell  he  returned  to  the 
house,  packed  a  few  needed  articles,  and  bade  us  farewell. 


20          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Will  urged  that  he  ride  Prince,  but  he  regarded  his  journey 
as  safer  afoot.  It  was  a  sad  parting.  None  of  us  knew 
whether  we  should  ever  again  see  our  father. 

"I  hope,"  he  said  to  mother,  "that  these  clouds  will 
soon  pass  away,  and  that  we  may  have  a  happy  home  once 
more."  Then,  placing  his  hands  on  Will's  head,  "You 
will  have  to  be  the  man  of  the  house  until  my  return,"  he 
said.  "But  I  know  I  can  trust  my  boy  to  watch  over  his 
mother  and  sisters." 

With  such  responsibilities  placed  upon  his  shoulders, 
such  confidence  reposed  in  him,  small  wonder  that  Will 
should  grow  a  man  in  thought  and  feeling  before  he  grew 
to  be  one  in  years. 

Father  reached  Fort  Leavenworth  in  safety,  but  the 
quarrel  between  the  pro-slavery  party  and  the  Free  Soilers 
waxed  more  bitter,  and  he  decided  that  security  lay  farther 
on ;  so  he  took  passage  on  an  up-river  boat  to  Doniphan, 
twenty  miles  distant.  This  was  then  a  mere  landing-place, 
but  he  found  a  small  band  of  men  in  camp  cooking  supper. 
They  were  part  of  Colonel  Jim  Lane's  command,  some 
three  hundred  strong,  on  their  way  West  from  Indiana. 

Colonel  Lane  was  an  interesting  character.  He  had 
been  a  friend  to  Elijah  Lovejoy,  who  was  killed,  in  1836, 
for  maintaining  an  anti-slavery  newspaper  in  Illinois.  The 
Kansas  contest  speedily  developed  the  fact  that  the  actual 
settlers  sent  from  the  North  by  the  emigrant-aid  societies 
would  enable  the  Free  State  party  to  outnumber  the  ruf- 
fians sent  in  by  the  Southerners ;  and  when  the  pro-slavery 
men  were  driven  to  substituting  bullets  for  ballots,  Colonel 
Lane  recruited  a  band  of  hardy  men  to  protect  the  anti- 
slavery  settlers,  and  incidentally  to  avenge  the  murder  of 
Lovejoy. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          21 

The  meeting  of  father  and  Lane's  men  was  a  meeting 
of  friends,  and  he  chose  to  cast  his  lot  with  theirs.  Shortly 
afterward  he  took  part  in  "The  Battle  of  Hickory  Point," 
in  which  the  pro-slavery  men  were  defeated  with  heavy 
loss;  and  thenceforward  the  name  of  Jim  Lane  was  a  terror 
to  the  lawless  and  a  wall  of  protection  to  our  family. 

The  storm  and  stress  of  battle  had  drawn  heavily  on 
what  little  strength  was  left  to  father,  and  relying  for  safety 
upon  the  proximity  of  Colonel  Lane  and  his  men,  he 
returned  to  us  secretly  by  night,  and  was  at  once  prostrated 
on  a  bed  of  sickness. 

This  proved  a  serious  strain  upon  our  delicate  mother, 
for  during  father's  absence  a  little  brother  had  been  added 
to  our  home,  and  not  only  had  she,  in  addition  to  the  care 
of  Baby  Charlie,  the  nursing  of  a  sick  man,  but  she  was 
constantly  harassed  by  apprehensions  for  his  safety  as  well. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PERSECUTION    CONTINUES. 

MOTHER'S  fears  were  well  grounded.  A  few  days  after 
father  had  returned  home,  a  man  named  Sharpe,  who  dis- 
graced the  small  office  of  justice  of  the  peace,  rode  up  to 
our  house,  very  much  the  worse  for  liquor,  and  informed 
mother  that  his  errand  was  to  "  search  the  house  for  that 
abolition  husband  of  yours."  The  intoxicated  ruffian  then 
demanded  something  to  eat.  While  mother,  with  a  show 
of  hospitality,  was  preparing  supper  for  him,  the  amiable 
Mr.  Sharpe  killed  time  in  sharpening  his  bowie-knife  on  the 
sole  of  his  shoe. 

"That,"  said  he  to  Will,  who  stood  watching  him, 
"that's  to  cut  the  heart  out  of  that  Free  State  father  of 
yours!"  And  he  tested  the  edge  with  brutally  suggestive 
care. 

Will's  comment  was  to  take  down  his  rifle  and  place 
himself  on  the  staircase  leading  up  to  father's  room. 
There  was  trouble  in  that  quarter  for  Mr.  Sharpe,  if  he 
attempted  to  ascend  those  stairs. 

But  the  justice,  as  mother  surmised,  had  no  notion  that 
father  was  at  home,  else  he  would  not  have  come  alone. 
He  ate  heartily  of  the  supper,  which  Will  hoped  would 
choke  him,  and  passing  from  drowsiness  to  drunken  slum- 
ber, soon  tumbled  from  his  chair.  This  so  confused  him 
that  he  forgot  his  pretended  errand,  and  shambled  out  of 
the  house.  He  was  not  so  drunk  that  he  could  not  tell  a 

22 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          23 

good  bit  of  horseflesh,  and  he  straightway  took  a  fancy  to 
Prince,  the  pet  pony  of  the  family.  An  unwritten  plank 
in  the  platform  of  the  pro-slavery  men  was  that  the  Free 
Soil  party  had  no  rights  they  were  bound  to  respect,  and 
Sharpe  remarked  to  Will,  with  a  malicious  grin : 

"That's  a  nice  pony  of  yours,  sonny.  Guess  I'll  take 
him  along  with  me."  And  he  proceeded  to  exchange  the 
saddle  from  the  back  of  his  own  horse  to  that  of  Prince. 

"You  old  coward !"  muttered  Will,  bursting  with  wrath. 
"I'll  get  even  with  you  some  day." 

The  justice  was  a  tall,  burly  fellow,  and  he  cut  so  ridic- 
ulous a  figure  as  he  rode  away  on  Prince's  back,  his  heels 
almost  touching  the  ground,  that  Will  laughed  outright  as 
he  thought  of  a  plan  to  save  his  pony. 

A  shrill  whistle  brought  Turk  to  the  scene,  and  receiv- 
ing his  cue,  the  dog  proceeded  to  give  Sharpe  a  very  bad 
five  minutes.  He  would  nip  at  one  of  the  dangling  legs, 
spring  back  out  of  reach  of  the  whip  with  a  triumphant 
bark,  then  repeat  the  performance  with  the  other  leg. 
This  little  comedy  had  a  delighted  spectator  in  Will,  who 
had  followed  at  a  safe  distance.  Just  as  Sharpe  made  one 
extra  effort  to  reach  Turk,  the  boy  whistled  a  signal  to 
Prince,  who  responded  with  a  bound  that  dumped  his  rider 
in  the  dust.  Here  Turk  stood  over  him  and  showed  his 
teeth. 

"Call  off  your  dog,  bub!"  the  justice  shouted  to  Will, 
"and  you  may  keep  your  little  sheep,  for  he's  no  good, 
anyway." 

"That's  a  bargain!"  cried  Will,  restored  to  good 
humor;  and  helping  the  vanquished  foe  upon  his  own 
steed,  he  assured  him  that  he  need  not  fear  Turk  so  long 
as  he  kept  his  word.  Sharpe  departed,  but  we  were  far 
from  being  rid  of  him. 


24          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

About  a  fortnight  later  we  were  enjoying  an  evening 
with  father,  who  was  now  able  to  come  downstairs.  He 
was  seated  in  a  big  arm-chair  before  the  open  fire,  with  his 
family  gathered  round  him,  by  his  side  our  frail,  beautiful 
mother,  with  Baby  Charlie  on  her  knee,  Martha  and  Julia, 
with  their  sewing,  and  Will,  back  of  mother's  chair,  ten- 
derly smoothing  the  hair  from  her  brow,  while  he  related 
spiritedly  some  new  escapade  of  Turk.  Suddenly  he 
checked  his  narrative,  listened  for  a  space,  and  announced : 

"There  are  some  men  riding  on  the  road  toward  the 
house.  We'd  better  be  ready  for  trouble." 

Mother,  equal  to  every  emergency,  hurriedly  disposed 
her  slender  forces  for  defense.  Martha  and  Julia  were 
directed  to  help  father  to  bed ;  that  done,  to  repair  to  the 
unfurnished  front  room  above  stairs;  Will  was  instructed 
to  call  the  hired  man  and  Jane,  who  was  almost  as  large 
and  quite  as  strong  as  the  average  man;  and  the  three 
were  armed  and  given  their  cue.  They  were  all  handy  with 
their  weapons,  but  mother  sought  to  win  by  strategy,  if 
possible.  She  bade  the  older  girls  don  heavy  boots,  and 
gave  them  further  instructions.  By  this  time  the  horsemen 
had  reached  the  gate.  Their  leader  was  the  redoubtable 
Justice  Sharpe.  He  rode  up  to  the  door,  and  rapped  with 
the  but  of  his  riding-whip.  Mother  threw  up  the  window 
overhead. 

"Who's  there?  and  what  do  you  want?"  she  demanded. 

"We  want  that  old  abolition  husband  of  yours,  and, 
dead  or  alive,  we  mean  to  have  him!" 

"All  right,  Mr.  Sharpe,"  was  the  steady  answer.  "I'll 
ask  Colonel  Lane  and  his  men  to  wait  on  you." 

The  hired  man,  who  had  served  in  the  Mexican  War, 
here  gave  a  sharp  word  of  command,  which  was  responded 
to  by  trampling  of  heavy  boots  upon  the  bare  floor.  Then, 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          25 

calling  a  halt,  the  pretended  Colonel  Lane  advanced  to  the 
window,  and  shouted  to  the  horsemen: 

"Set  foot  inside  that  gate  and  my  men  will  fire  on 
you !" 

Sharpe,  an  arrant  coward,  had  retreated  at  the  first 
sound  of  a  man's  voice,  and  after  a  short  parley  with  his 
nonplused  companions,  he  led  them  away — outwitted  by 
a  woman. 

As  a  sort  of  consolation  prize,  Sharpe  again  made  off 
with  Prince;  but  Will's  sorrow  in  the  morning  was  short- 
lived, for  the  sagacious  little  creature  slipped  his  halter  and 
came  flying  home  before  the  forenoon  was  half  spent. 

After  this  experience,  father  decided  that,  for  our  sakes 
as  well  as  for  his  own,  he  must  again  leave  home,  and  as 
soon  as  he  recovered  a  measure  of  his  strength  he  went  to 
Grasshopper  Falls,  thirty-five  miles  west  of  Leavenworth. 
Here  he  erected  a  sawmill,  and  hoped  that  he  had  put  so 
many  miles  between  him  and  his  enemies  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  pursue  a  peaceful  occupation.  He  made  us 
occasional  visits,  so  timing  his  journey  that  he  reached 
home  after  nightfall,  and  left  again  before  the  sun  was  up. 

One  day  when  we  were  looking  forward  to  one  of  these 
visits,  our  good  friend  Mr.  Hathaway  made  his  appearance 
about  eleven  o'clock. 

"It  is  too  bad  to  be  the  bearer  of  ill  tidings,"  said  he, 
"but  the  news  of  your  husband's  expected  visit  has  been 
noised  about  in  some  way,  and  another  plot  to  kill  him  is 
afoot.  Some  of  his  enemies  are  camped  at  Big  Stranger's 
Creek,  and  intend  to  shoot  him  as  he  passes  there." 

Then  followed  a  long  and  anxious  consultation,  which 
ended  without  any  plan  of  rescue. 

All  of  which  had  been  overheard  by  Will,  who  was  con- 
fined to  his  bed  with  an  attack  of  ague.  In  him,  he 


26          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

decided,  lay  the  only  hope  for  father's  safety;  so,  dressing, 
he  presented  his  fever-flushed  face  to  mother.  As  he  held 
out  a  handkerchief,  "Tie  it  tight  around  my  head,  mother," 
said  he;  "then  it  won't  ache  so  hard." 

A  remonstrance  against  his  getting  out  of  bed  brought 
out  the  fact  that  he  contemplated  riding  to  Grasshopper 
Falls! 

He  was  almost  too  weak  to  stand,  a  storm  threatened, 
and  thirty  miles  lay  between  him  and  father;  yet  he  was 
not  to  be  dissuaded  from  his  undertaking.  So  Julia  and 
Martha  saddled  Prince  and  helped  the  ague-racked  courier 
to  his  saddle. 

The  plunge  into  the  open  air  and  the  excitement  of  the 
start  encouraged  Will  to  believe  that  he  could  hold  out. 
As  he  settled  down  to  his  long,  hard  ride  he  reflected  that 
it  was  not  yet  noon,  and  that  father  would  not  set  out  until 
late  in  the  day.  Prince  seemed  to  discern  that  something 
extraordinary  was  afoot,  and  swung  along  at  a  swift,  steady 
gait. 

Big  Stranger's  Creek  cut  the  road  half-way  to  the  Falls, 
and  Will  approached  it  before  the  afternoon  was  half  gone. 
The  lowering  sky  darkened  the  highway,  and  he  hoped  to 
pass  the  ambush  unrecognized ;  but  as  he  came  up  to  the 
stream  he  made  out  a  camp  and  campers,  one  of  whom 
called  out  carelessly  to  him  as  he  passed : 

"Are  you  all  right  on  the  goose?" — the  cant  phrase  of 
the  pro-slavery  men. 

"Never  rode  a  goose  in  my  life,  gentlemen,"  was  the 
reply. 

"That's  Cody's  boy!"  shouted  another  voice;  and  the 
word  "Halt!"  rang  out  just  as  Will  had  galloped  safely 
past  the  camp. 

Will's    answer   was    to    drive    the     spurs    into     Prince 


TO  SAVE  A  FATHER'S  LIFE. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  27 

and  dart  ahead,  followed  by  a  rain  of  bullets.  He 
was  now  well  out  of  range,  and  the  pony  still  strong  and 
fleet. 

The  chase  was  on,  and  in  the  thrill  of  it  Will  forgot  his 
weakness.  A  new  strength  came  with  the  rush  of  air  and 
the  ring  of  hoofs,  and  "I'll  reach  the  Falls  in  time!"  was 
his  heartening  thought,  as  pursurer  and  pursued  sped 
through  the  forests,  clattered  over  bridges,  and  galloped 
up  hill  and  down. 

Then  broke  the  long-impending  storm,  and  the  hard 
road  became  the  bed  of  a  muddy  stream.  The  pursuit  was 
abandoned,  and  this  stimulus  removed,  Will  felt  the  chills 
and  weakness  coming  on  again.  He  was  drenched  to  the 
skin,  and  it  was  an  effort  to  keep  his  saddle,  but  he  set 
his  teeth  firmly  in  his  resolve  to  accomplish  his  heroic 
purpose. 

At  last !  A  welcome  light  gleamed  between  the  crystal 
bars  of  the  rain.  His  mission  was  accomplished. 

His  ride  had  been  longer  by  ten  miles  than  that  famous 
gallop  of  the  friend  of  his  after  years — Phil  Sheridan.  Like 
Sheridan,  he  reached  the  goal  in  time,  for  father  was  just 
mounting  his  horse. 

But  the  ride  proved  too  much  for  his  strength,  and 
Will  collapsed.  Father  started  with  him,  a  few  days  later, 
for  Topeka,  which  was  headquarters  for  the  Free  State 
party. 

Father  acquainted  mother  of  their  safety,  and  explained 
that  he  had  gone  to  Topeka  because  he  feared  his  life  was 
no  longer  safe  at  Grasshopper  Falls. 

Party  strife  in  Kansas  was  now  at  its  height.  Thou- 
sands came  into  the  territory  from  adjacent  slave  states 
simply  to  vote,  and  the  pro-slavery  party  elected  a  legis- 
lature, whose  first  meeting  was  held  at  Le  Compton.  This 


28  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

election  the  Free  Soilers  declared  illegal,  because  of  frau- 
dulent voting,  and  assembling  at  Topeka  in  the  winter  of 
1855-56,  they  framed  a  constitution  excluding  slavery,  and 
organized  a  rival  government.  Of  this  first  Free-Soil 
Legislature  father  was  a  member. 

Thenceforth  war  was  the  order  of  the  day,  and  in  the 
fall  of  1856  a  military  governor  was  appointed,  with  full 
authority  to  maintain  law  and  order  in  Kansas. 

Recognizing  the  good  work  effected  by  the  emigrant- 
aid  societies,  and  realizing  that  in  a  still  larger  Northern 
emigration  to  Kansas  lay  the  only  hope  of  its  admission  as 
a  free  state,  father  went  to  Ohio  in  the  following  spring,  to 
labor  for  the  salvation  of  the  territory  he  had  chosen  for 
his  home.  Here  his  natural  gift  of  oratory  had  free  play, 
and  as  the  result  of  his  work  on  the  stump  he  brought  back 
to  Kansas  sixty  families,  the  most  of  whom  settled  in  the 
vicinity  of  Grasshopper  Falls,  now  Valley  Falls. 

This  meant  busy  times  for  us,  for  with  that  magnificent 
disregard  for  practical  matters  that  characterizes  many  men 
of  otherwise  great  gifts,  father  had  invited  each  separate 
family  to  make  headquarters  at  his  home  until  other 
arrangements  could  be  perfected.  As  a  result,  our  house 
overflowed,  while  the  land  about  us  was  dotted  with  tents; 
but  these  melted  away,  as  one  by  one  the  families  selected 
claims  and  put  up  cabins. 

Among  the  other  settlers  was  Judge  Delahay,  who, 
with  his  family,  located  at  Leavenworth,  and  began  the 
publishing  of  the  first  abolition  newspaper  in  Kansas.  The 
appointing  of  the  military  governor  was  the  means  of 
restoring  comparative  tranquillity;  but  hundreds  of  out- 
rages were  committed,  and  the  judge  and  his  newspaper 
came  in  for  a  share  of  suffering.  The  printing-office  was 
broken  into,  and  the  type  and  press  thrown  into  the  Mis- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  29 

souri  River.  Undaunted,  the  judge  procured  a  new 
press,  and  the  paper  continued. 

A  semi-quiet  now  reigned  in  the  territory;  father 
resumed  work  at  the  sawmill,  and  we  looked  forward  to  a 
peaceful  home  and  the  joy  of  being  once  more  perma- 
nently united.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  The  knife  wound 
had  injured  father's  lung.  With  care  and  nursing  it  might 
have  healed,  but  constant  suffering  attended  on  the  life 
that  persecution  had  led  him,  and  in  the  spring  of  '57 
he  again  came  home,  and  took  to  his  bed  for  the  last 
time. 

All  that  could  be  was  done,  but  nothing  availed.  After 
a  very  short  illness  he  passed  away — one  of  the  first  mar- 
tyrs in  the  cause  of  freedom  in  Kansas. 

The  land  of  his  adoption  became  his  last,  long  resting- 
place.  His  remains  now  lie  on  Pilot  Knob,  which  over- 
looks the  beautiful  city  of  Leavenworth.  His  death  was 
regretted  even  by  his  enemies,  who  could  not  help  but 
grant  a  tribute  of  respect  to  a  man  who  had  been  upright, 
just,  and  generous  to  friend  and  foe. 


CHAPTER  V. 


AT  this  sorrowful  period  mother  was  herself  almost  at 
death's  door  with  consumption,  but  far  from  sinking  under 
the  blow,  she  faced  the  new  conditions  with  a  steadfast 
calm,  realizing  that  should  she,  too,  be  taken,  her  children 
would  be  left  without  a  protector,  and  at  the  mercy  of  the 
enemies  whose  malignity  had  brought  their  father  to  an 
untimely  end.  Her  indomitable  will  opposed  her  bodily 
weakness.  "I  will  not  die,"  she  told  herself,  "until  the 
welfare  of  my  children  is  assured."  She  was  needed,  for 
our  persecution  continued. 

Hardly  was  the  funeral  over  when  a  trumped-up  claim 
for  a  thousand  dollars,  for  lumber  and  supplies,  was  entered 
against  our  estate.  Mother  knew  the  claim  was  fictitious, 
as  all  the  bills  had  been  settled,  but  the  business  had  been 
transacted  through  the  agency  of  Uncle  Elijah,  and  father 
had  neglected  to  secure  the  receipts.  In  those  bitter, 
troublous  days  it  too  often  happened  that  brother  turned 
against  brother,  and  Elijah  retained  his  fealty  to  his  party 
at  the  expense  of  his  dead  brother's  family. 

This  fresh  affliction  but  added  fuel  to  the  flame  of 
mother's  energy.  Our  home  was  paid  for,  but  father's 
business  had  been  made  so  broken  and  irregular  that  our 
financial  resources  were  of  the  slenderest,  and  should  this 
unjust  claim  for  a  thousand  dollars  be  allowed,  we  would 
be  homeless, 

30 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  31 

The  result  of  mother's  study  of  the  situation  was,  "If 
I  had  the  ready  money,  I  should  fight  the  claim." 

"You  fight  the  claim,  and  I'll  get  the  money,"  Will 
replied. 

Mother  smiled,  but  Will  continued : 

"Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  will  give  me  work.  Jim 
Willis  says  I  am  capable  of  filling  the  position  of  'extra.' 
If  you'll  go  with  me  and  ask  Mr.  Majors  for  a  job,  I'm 
sure  he'll  give  me  one." 

Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  were  overland  freighters  and 
contractors,  with  headquarters  at  Leavenworth.  To  Will's 
suggestion  mother  entered  a  demurrer,  but  finally  yielded 
before  his  insistence.  Mr.  Majors  had  known  father,  and 
was  more  than  willing  to  aid  us,  but  Will's  youth  was  an 
objection  not  lightly  overridden. 

"What  can  a  boy  of  your  age  do?"  he  asked,  kindly. 

"I  can  ride,  shoot,  and  herd  cattle,"  said  Will;  "but 
I'd  rather  be  an  'extra'  on  one  of  your  trains.* 

"But  that  is  a  man's  work,  and  is  dangerous  besides." 
Mr.  Majors  hesitated.  "But  I'll  let  you  try  it  one  trip, 
and  if  you  do  a  man's  work,  I'll  give  you  a  man's  pay." 

So  Will's  name  was  put  on  the  company  roll,  and  he 
signed  a  pledge  that  illustrates  better  than  a  description  the 
character  and  disposition  of  Mr.  Majors. 

"I,  William  F.  Cody,"  it  read,  "do  hereby  solemnly 
swear,  before  the  great  and  living  God,  that  during  my 
engagement  with,  and  while  I  am  in  the  employ  of,  Rus- 
sell, Majors  &  Waddell,  I  will,  under  no  circumstances, 
use  profane  language,  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  to  win  the  confidence  of  my 
employers.  So  help  me  God!" 


32  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Mr.  Majors  employed  many  wild  and  reckless  men,  but 
the  language  of  the  pledge  penetrated  to  the  better  nature 
of  them  all.  They  endeavored,  with  varying  success,  to 
live  up  to  its  conditions,  although  most  of  them  held  that 
driving  a  bull-team  constituted  extenuating  circumstances 
for  an  occasional  expletive. 

The  pledge  lightened  mother's  heart;  she  knew  that 
Will  would  keep  his  word;  she  felt,  too,  that  a  man  that 
required  such  a  pledge  of  his  employees  was  worthy  of  their 
confidence  and  esteem. 

The  train  was  to  start  in  a  day,  and  all  of  us  were  busy 
with  the  preparations  for  Will's  two  months'  trip.  The 
moment  of  parting  came,  and  it  was  a  trying  ordeal  for 
mother,  so  recently  bereaved  of  husband.  Will  sought  to 
soothe  her,  but  the  younger  sisters  had  better  success,  for 
with  tears  in  our  eyes  we  crowded  about  him,  imploring 
him  to  "run  if  he  saw  any  Indians." 

'Tis  but  a  step  from  tears  to  smiles;  the  situation  was 
relieved,  and  Will  launched  his  life  bark  amid  adieus  of 
hope  and  confidence  and  love.  His  fortitude  lasted  only 
till  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  house;  but  youth  is  elastic, 
the  plains  lay  before  him,  and  mother  and  sisters  were  to 
be  helped ;  so  he  presented  a  cheerful  face  to  his  employers. 

That  night  the  bed  of  the  "boy  extra"  was  a  blanket 
under  a  wagon ;  but  he  slept  soundly,  and  was  ready  when 
the  train  started  with  the  dawn. 

The  "bull-train"  took  its  name  from  the  fact  that  each 
of  the  thirty-five  wagons  making  up  a  full  train  was  hauled 
by  several  yoke  of  oxen,  driven  by  one  man,  known  as  a 
bullwhacker.  This  functionary's  whip  cracked  like  a  rifle, 
and  could  be  heard  about  as  far.  The  wagons  resembled 
the  ordinary  prairie-schooner,  but  were  larger  and  more 
strongly  built;  they  were  protected  from  the  weather  by  a 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  33 

double  covering  of  heavy  canvas,  and  had  a  freight  capacity 
of  seven  thousand  pounds. 

Besides  the  bullwhackers  there  were  cavallard  drivers 
(who  cared  for  the  loose  cattle),  night  herders,  and  sundry 
extra  hands,  all  under  the  charge  of  a  chief  wagon-master, 
termed  the  wagon-boss,  his  lieutenants  being  the  boss  of 
the  cattle  train  and  the  assistant  wagon-master.  The  men 
were  disposed  in  messes,  each  providing  its  own  wood  and 
water,  doing  its  own  cooking,  and  washing  up  its  own  tin 
dinner  service,  while  one  man  in  each  division  stood  guard. 
Special  duties  were  assigned  to  the  "extras,"  and  Will's 
was  to  ride  up  and  down  the  train  delivering  orders.  This 
suited  his  fancy  to  a  dot,  for  the  oxen  were  snail-gaited, 
and  to  plod  at  their  heels  was  dull  work.  Kipling  tells  us 
it  is  quite  impossible  to  ' '  hustle  the  East* ' ;  it  were  as  easy, 
as  Will  discovered,  to  hustle  a  bull-train. 

From  the  outset  the  "boy  extra"  was  a  favorite  with 
the  men.  They  liked  his  pluck  in  undertaking  such  work, 
and  when  it  was  seen  that  he  took  pride  in  executing  orders 
promptly,  he  became  a  favorite  with  the  bosses  as  well. 
In  part  his  work  was  play  to  him ;  he  welcomed  an  order  as 
a  break  in  the  monotony  of  the  daily  march,  and  hailed  the 
opportunity  of  a  gallop  on  a  good  horse. 

The  world  of  Will's  fancy  was  bounded  by  the  hazy 
rim  where  plain  and  sky  converge,  and  when  the  first  day's 
journey  was  done,  and  he  had  staked  out  and  cared  for  his 
horse,  he  watched  with  fascinated  eyes  the  strange  and 
striking  picture  limned  against  the  black  hills  and  the 
sweeping  stretch  of  darkening  prairie.  Everything  was 
animation;  the  bullwhackers  unhitching  and  disposing  of 
their  teams,  the  herders  staking  out -the  cattle,  and — not 
the  least  interesting — the  mess  cooks  preparing  the  evening 
meal  at  the  crackling  camp-fires,  with  the  huge,  canvas- 


34          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

covered  wagons  encircling  them  like  ghostly  sentinels ;  the 
ponies  and  oxen  blinking  stupidly  as  the  flames  stampeded 
the  shadows  in  which  they  were  enveloped ;  and  more 
weird  than  all,  the  buckskin-clad  bullwhackers,  squatted 
around  the  fire,  their  beards  glowing  red  in  its  light,  their 
faces  drawn  in  strange  black  and  yellow  lines,  while  the 
spiked  grasses  shot  tall  and  sword-like  over  them. 

It  was  wonderful — that  first  night  of  the  "boy  extra." 

But  Will  discovered  that  life  on  the  plains  is  not  all  a 
supper  under  the  stars  when  the  sparks  fly  upward;  it 
has  its  hardships  and  privations.  There  were  days,  as  the 
wagons  dragged  their  slow  lengths  along,  when  the  clouds 
obscured  the  sky  and  the  wind  whistled  dismally;  days 
when  torrents  fell  and  swelled  the  streams  that  must  be 
crossed,  and  when  the  mud  lay  ankle-deep ;  days  when  the 
cattle  stampeded,  and  the  round-up  meant  long,  extra  hours 
of  heavy  work;  and,  hardest  but  most  needed  work  of  all, 
the  eternal  vigil  'gainst  an  Indian  attack. 

Will  did  not  share  the  anxiety  of  his  companions.  To 
him  a  brush  with  Indians  would  prove  that  boyhood's 
dreams  sometimes  come  true,  and  in  imagination  he  antici- 
pated the  glory  of  a  first  encounter  with  the  "noble  red 
man,"  after  the  fashion  of  the  heroes  in  the  hair-lifting 
Western  tales  he  had  read.  He  was  soon  to  learn,  as  many 
another  has  learned,  that  the  Indian  of  real  life  is  vastly 
different  from  the  Indian  of  fiction.  He  refuses  to  "bite 
the  dust"  at  sight  of  a  paleface,  and  a  dozen  of  them  have 
been  known  to  hold  their  own  against  as  many  white  men. 

Some  twenty  miles  west  of  Fort  Kearny  a  halt  was 
made  for  dinner  at  the  bank  of  a  creek  that  emptied  into 
the  Platte  River.  No  signs  of  Indians  had  been  observed, 
and  there  was  no  thought  of  special  danger.  Neverthe- 
less, three  men  were  constantly  on  guard.  Many  of  the 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  35 

trainmen  were  asleep  under  the  wagons  while  waiting  din- 
ner, and  Will  was  watching  the  maneuvers  of  the  cook  in 
his  mess.  Suddenly  a  score  of  shots  rang  out  from  the 
direction  of  a  neighboring  thicket,  succeeded  by  a  chorus 
of  savage  yells. 

Will  saw  the  three  men  on  the  lookout  drop  in  their 
tracks,  and  saw  the  Indians  divide,  one  wing  stampeding 
the  cattle,  the  other  charging  down  upon  the  camp. 

The  trainmen  were  old  frontiersmen,  and  although  taken 
wholly  by  surprise,  they  lined  up  swiftly  in  battle  array 
behind  the  wagons,  with  the  bosses,  Bill  and  Frank  Mc- 
Carthy, at  their  head,  and  the  "boy  extra"  under  the 
direction  of  the  wagon-master. 

A  well-placed  volley  of  rifle-balls  checked  the  Indians, 
and  they  wheeled  and  rode  away,  after  sending  in  a  scatter- 
ing cloud  of  arrows,  which  wounded  several  of  the  train- 
men. The  decision  of  a  hasty  council  of  war  was,  that  a 
defensive  stand  would  be  useless,  as  the  Indians  outnum- 
bered the  whites  ten  to  one,  and  red  reinforcements  were 
constantly  coming  up,  until  it  seemed  to  Will  as  if  the 
prairie  were  alive  with  them.  The  only  hope  of  safety  lay 
in  the  shelter  of  the  creek's  high  bank,  so  a  run  was  made 
for  it.  The  Indians  charged  again,  with  the  usual  accom- 
paniment of  whoops,  yells,  and  flying  arrows;  but  the 
trainmen  had  reached  the  creek,  and  from  behind  its  natural 
breastwork  maintained  a  rifle  fire  that  drove  the  foe  back 
out  of  range. 

To  follow  the  creek  and  river  to  Fort  Kearny  was  not 
accounted  much  of  a  chance  for  escape,  but  it  was  the  only 
avenue  that  lay  open ;  so,  with  a  parting  volley  to  deceive 
the  besiegers  into  thinking  that  the  fort  was  still  held,  the 
perilous  and  difficult  journey  was  begun. 

The  Indians  quickly  penetrated  the  ruse,  and  another 


36  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

charge  had  to  be  repulsed.  Besides  the  tiresome  work  of 
wading,  there  were  wounded  men  to  help  along,  and  a 
ceaseless  watch  to  keep  against  another  rush  of  the  reds. 
It  was  a  trying  ordeal  for  a  man,  doubly  so  for  a  boy  like 
Will ;  but  he  was  encouraged  to  coolness  and  endurance  by 
a  few  words  from  Frank  McCarthy,  who  remarked,  admir- 
ingly, "Well,  Billy,  you  didn't  scare  worth  a  cent." 

After  a  few  miles  of  wading  the  little  party  issued  out 
upon  the  Platte  River.  By  this  time  the  wounded  men 
were  so  exhausted  that  a  halt  was  called  to  improvise  a 
raft.  On  this  the  sufferers  were  placed,  and  three  or  four 
men  detailed  to  shove  it  before  them.  In  consideration  of 
his  youth,  Will  was  urged  to  get  upon  the  raft,  but  he 
declined,  saying  that  he  was  not  wounded,  and  that  if  the 
stream  got  too  deep  for  him  to  wade,  he  could  swim. 
This  was  more  than  some  of  the  men  could  do,  and  they, 
too,  had  to  be  assisted  over  the  deep  places. 

Thus  wore  the  long  and  weary  hours  away,  and  though 
the  men,  who  knew  how  hard  a  trip  it  was,  often  asked, 
"How  goes  it,  Billy?"  he  uttered  no  word  of  complaint. 

But  half  a  day's  wading,  without  rest  or  food,  gradually 
weighted  his  heels,  and  little  by  little  he  lagged  behind  his 
companions.  The  moon  came  out  and  silvered  tree  and 
river,  but  the  silent,  plodding  band  had  no  eyes  for  the 
glory  of  the  landscape. 

Will  had  fallen  behind  some  twenty  rods,  but  in  a 
moment  fatigue  was  forgotten,  the  blood  jumped  in  his 
veins,  for  just  ahead  of  him  the  moonlight  fell  upon  the 
feathered  head-dress  of  an  Indian  chief,  who  was  peering 
over  the  bank.  Motionless,  he  watched  the  head,  shoul- 
ders, and  body  of  the  brave  come  into  view.  The  Indian 
supposed  the  entire  party  ahead,  and  Will  made  no  move 
until  the  savage  bent  his  bow. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  37 

Then  he  realized,  with  a  thumping  heart,  that  death 
must  come  to  one  of  his  comrades  or  the  Indian. 

Even  in  direst  necessity  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to  deliber- 
ately take  a  human  life,  but  Will  had  no  time  for  hesita- 
tion. There  was  a  shot,  and  the  Indian  rolled  down  the 
bank  into  the  river. 

His  expiring  yell  was  answered  by  others.  The  reds 
were  not  far  away.  Frank  McCarthy,  missing  Will,  sta- 
tioned guards,  and  ran  back  to  look  for  him.  He  found 
the  lad  hauling  the  dead  warrior  ashore,  and  seizing  his 
hand,  cried  out:  "Well  done,  my  boy;  you've  killed  your 
first  Indian,  and  done  it  like  a  man!" 

Will  wanted  to  stop  and  bury  the  body,  but  being 
assured  that  it  was  not  only  an  uncustomary  courtesy,  but 
in  this  case  quite  impossible,  he  hastened  on.  As  they 
came  up  with  the  waiting  group  McCarthy  called  out:. 

"Pards,  little  Billy  has  killed  his  first  redskin!" 

The  announcement  was  greeted  with  cheers,  which 
grated  on  Will's  ears,  for  his  heart  was  sick,  and  the  cheers 
seemed  strangely  out  of  place. 

Little  time,  however,  was  afforded  for  sentiment  of  any 
sort.  Enraged  at  the  death  of  their  scout,  the  Indians 
made  a  final  charge,  which  was  repulsed,  like  the  others, 
and  after  this  Bill  McCarthy  took  the  lead,  with  Frank  at 
the  rear,  to  prevent  further  straggling  of  the  forces. 

It  was  a  haggard-faced  band  that  came  up  to  Fort 
Kearny  with  the  dawn.  The  wounded  men  were  left  at 
the  post,  while  the  others  returned  to  the  wrecked  bull-train 
under  escort  of  a  body  of  troops.  They  hoped  to  make 
some  salvage,  but  the  cattle  had  either  been  driven  away 
or  had  joined  one  of  the  numerous  herds  of  buffalo;  the 
wagons  and  their  freight  had  been  burned,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  bury  the  three  pickets,  whose  scalped 


38  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

and    mutilated    bodies    were    stretched    where    they    had 
fallen. 

Then  the  troops  and  trainmen  parted  company,  the 
former  to  undertake  a  bootless  quest  for  the  red  marauders, 
the  latter  to  return  to  Leavenworth,  their  occupation  gone. 
The  government  held  itself  responsible  for  the  depredations 
of  its  wards,  and  the  loss  of  the  wagons  and  cattle  was 
assumed  at  Washington. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FAMILY    DEFENDER   AND    HOUSEHOLD    TEASE. 

THE  fame  to  which  Byron  woke  one  historic  morning  was 
no  more  unexpected  to  him  than  that  which  now  greeted 
Will.  The  trainmen  had  not  been  over-modest  in  their 
accounts  of  his  pluck;  and  when  a  newspaper  reporter  lent 
the  magic  of  his  imagination  to  the  plain  narrative,  it 
became  quite  a  story,  headed  in  display  type,  "The  Boy 
Indian  Slayer." 

But  Will  was  speedily  concerned  with  other  than  his  own 
affairs,  for  as  soon  as  his  position  with  the  freighters  was 
assured,  mother  engaged  a  lawyer  to  fight  the  claim  against 
our  estate.  This  legal  light  was  John  C.  Douglass,  then 
unknown,  unhonored,  and  unsung,  but  talented  and  enter- 
prising notwithstanding.  He  had  just  settled  in  Leaven- 
worth,  and  he  could  scarcely  have  found  a  better  case  with 
which  to  storm  the  heights  of  fame — the  dead  father,  the 
sick  mother,  the  helpless  children,  and  relentless  persecu- 
tion, in  one  scale;  in  the  other,  an  eleven-year-old  boy 
doing  a  man's  work  to  earn  the  money  needed  to  combat 
the  family's  enemies.  Douglass  put  his  whole  strength 
into  the  case. 

He  knew  as  well  as  we  that  our  cause  was  weak;  it 
hung  by  a  single  thread — a  missing  witness,  Mr.  Barnhart. 
This  man  had  acted  as  bookkeeper  when  the  bills  were 
paid,  but  he  had  been  sent  away,  and  the  prosecution — or 
persecution — had  thus  far  succeeded  in  keeping  his  where- 

39 


40          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

abouts  a  secret.  To  every  place  where  he  was  likely  to  be 
Lawyer  Douglass  had  written ;  but  we  were  as  much  in  the 
dark  as  ever  when  the  morning  for  the  trial  of  the  suit 
arrived. 

The  case  had  excited  much  interest,  and  the  court-room 
was  crowded,  many  persons  having  been  drawn  thither  by 
a  curiosity  to  look  upon  "The  Boy  Indian  Slayer."  There 
was  a  cheerful  unanimity  of  opinion  upon  the  utter  hope- 
lessness of  the  Cody  side  of  the  case.  Not  only  were 
prominent  and  wealthy  men  arrayed  against  us,  but  our 
young  and  inexperienced  lawyer  faced  the  heaviest  legal 
guns  of  the  Leavenworth  bar.  Our  only  witnesses  were  a 
frail  woman  and  a  girl  of  eighteen,  though  by  their  side, 
with  his  head  held  high,  was  the  family  protector,  our 
brave  young  brother.  Against  us  were  might  and  malignity ; 
upon  our  side,  right  and  the  high  courage  with  which 
Christianity  steels  the  soul  of  a  believer.  Mother  had 
faith  that  the  invisible  forces  of  the  universe  were  fighting 
for  our  cause. 

She  and  Martha  swore  to  the  fact  that  all  the  bills  had 
been  settled;  and  after  the  opposition  had  rested  its  case, 
Lawyer  Douglass  arose  for  the  defense.  His  was  a  mag- 
nificent plea  for  the  rights  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan,  and 
was  conceded  to  be  one  of  the  finest  speeches  ever  heard 
in  a  Kansas  court-room;  but  though  all  were  moved  by 
our  counsel's  eloquence — some  unto  tears  by  the  pathos  of 
it — though  the  justice  of  our  cause  was  freely  admitted 
throughout  the  court-room,  our  best  friends  feared  the 
verdict. 

But  the  climax  was  as  stunning  to  our  enemies  as  it 
was  unexpected.  As  Lawyer  Douglass  finished  his  last 
ringing  period,  the  missing  witness,  Mr.  Barnhart,  hurried 
into  the  court-room.  He  had  started  for  Leavenworth 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  41 

upon  the  first  intimation  that  his  presence  there  was  needed, 
and  had  reached  it  just  in  time.  He  took  the  stand,  swore 
to  his  certain  knowledge  that  the  bills  in  question  had  been 
paid,  and  the  jury,  without  leaving  their  seats,  returned  a 
verdict  for  the  defense. 

Then  rose  cheer  upon  cheer,  as  our  friends  crowded 
about  us  and  offered  their  congratulations.  Our  home  was 
saved,  and  Lawyer  Douglass  had  won  a  reputation  for 
eloquence  and  sterling  worth  that  stood  undimmed  through 
all  his  long  and  prosperous  career. 

The  next  ripple  on  the  current  of  our  lives  was  sister 
Martha's  wedding  day.  Possessed  of  remarkable  beauty, 
she  had  become  a  belle,  and  as  young  ladies  were  scarce  in 
Kansas  at  that  time,  she  was  the  toast  of  all  our  country 
round.  But  her  choice  had  fallen  on  a  man  unworthy  of 
her.  Of  his  antecedents  we  knew  nothing;  of  his  present 
life  little  more,  save  that  he  was  fair  in  appearance  and 
seemingly  prosperous.  In  the  sanction  of  the  union  Will 
stood  aloof.  Joined  to  a  native  intuition  were  the 
sharpened  faculties  of  a  lad  that  lived  beyond  his  years. 
Almost  unerring  in  his  insight,  he  disliked  the  object  of  our 
sister's  choice  so  thoroughly  that  he  refused  to  be  a  witness 
of  the  nuptials.  This  dislike  we  attributed  to  jealousy,  as 
brother  and  sister  worshiped  each  other,  but  the  sequel 
proved  a  sad  corroboration  of  his  views. 

Nature  seemed  to  join  her  protest  to  Will's  silent 
antagonism.  A  terrific  thunder-storm  came  up  with  the 
noon  hour  of  the  wedding.  So  deep  and  sullen  were  the 
clouds  that  we  were  obliged  to  light  the  candles.  When 
the  wedding  pair  took  their  places  before  Hymen's  altar, 
a  crash  of  thunder  rocked  the  house  and  set  the  casements 
rattling. 

The  couple  had  their  home  awaiting  them  in  Leaven- 


42          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

worth,  and  departed  almost  immediately  after  the  cere- 
mony. 

The  cares  and  responsibilities  laid  upon  our  brother's 
shoulders  did  not  quench  his  boyish  spirits  and  love  of  fun. 
Not  Buffalo  Bill's!  He  gave  us  a  jack-o'-lantern  scare 
once  upon  a  time,  which  I  don't  believe  any  of  us  will  ever 
forget.  We  had  never  seen  that  weird  species  of  pump- 
kin, and  Will  embroidered  a  blood-and-thunder  narra- 
tive. 

''The  pumpkins  all  rise  up  out  of  the  ground,"  said 
he,  "on  fire,  with  the  devil's  eyes,  and  their  mouths  open, 
like  blood-red  lions,  and  grab  you,  and  go  under  the  earth. 
You  better  look  out!" 

"That  ain't  so!"  all  of  us  little  girls  cried;  "you  know 
it's  a  fib.  Ain't  it,  mother?"  and  we  ran  as  usual  to 
mother. 

"Will,  you  mustn't  tell  the  children  such  tales.  Of 
course  they're  just  fibs,"  said  mother. 

"So  there!"  we  cried,  in  triumph.  But  Will  had  a 
"so  there"  answer  for  us  a  few  nights  later.  We  were 
coming  home  late  one  evening,  and  found  the  gate  guarded 
by  mad-looking  yellow  things,  all  afire,  and  grinning  hide- 
ously like  real  live  men  in  the  moon  dropped  down  from 
the  sky. 

"Jack-o'-lanterns!"  screamed  Eliza,  grabbing  May  by 
the  hand,  and  starting  to  run.  I  began  to  say  my  prayers, 
of  course,  and  cry  for  mother.  All  at  once  the  heads 
moved!  Even  Turk's  tail  shot  between  his  legs,  and  he 
howled  in  fright.  We  saw  the  devil's  eyes,  the  blood-red 
lion's  mouths,  and  all  the  rest,  and  set  up  such  a  chorus 
of  wild  yells  that  the  whole  household  rushed  to  our  rescue. 
While  we  were  panting  out  our  story,  we  heard  Will  snick- 
ering behind  the  door. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  43 

"So  there,  smarties!  You'll  believe  what  I  tell  you 
next  time.  You  bet — ter — had!" 

But  he  liked  best  to  invade  our  play-room  and  "work 
magic"  on  our  dolls.  Mother  had  set  aside  one  apartment 
in  our  large  log  house  for  a  play-room,  and  here  each  one 
of  our  doll  families  dwelt  in  peace  and  harmony,  when 
Will  wasn't  around.  But  there  was  tragedy  whenever  he 
came  near.  He  would  scalp  the  mother  dolls,  and  tie  their 
babies  to  the  bedposts,  and  would  storm  into  their  paste- 
board-box houses  at  night,  after  we  had  fixed  them  all  in 
order,  and  put  the  families  to  standing  on  their  heads.  He 
was  a  dreadful  tease.  It  was  in  this  play-room  that  the 
germ  of  his  Wild  West  took  life.  He  formed  us  into  a 
regular  little  company — Turk  and  the  baby,  too — and  would 
start  us  in  marching  order  for  the  woods.  He  made  us 
stick  horses  and  wooden  tomahawks,  spears,  and  horsehair 
strings,  so  that  we  could  be  cowboys,  Indians,  bullwhack- 
ers,  and  cavalrymen.  All  the  scenes  of  his  first  freighting 
trip  were  acted  out  in  the  woods  of  Salt  Creek  Valley. 
We  had  stages,  robbers,  "hold-ups,"  and  most  ferocious 
Indian  battles. 

Will  was  always  the  "principal  scalper,"  however,  and 
we  had  few  of  our  feathers  left  after  he  was  on  the  war- 
path. We  were  so  little  we  couldn't  reach  his  feathers. 
He  always  wore  two  long  shiny  ones,  which  had  been  the 
special  pride  of  our  black  rooster,  and  when  he  threw  a 
piece  of  an  old  blanket  gotten  from  the  Leavenworth  bar- 
racks around  his  shoulders,  we  considered  him  a  very  fine 
general  indeed. 

All  of  us  were  pbedient  to  the  letter  on  "show  days," 
and  scarcely  ever  said  "Now,  stop,"  or  "I'll  tell  mother 
on  you!"  But  during  one  of  these  exciting  performances 
Will  came  to  a  short  stop. 


44  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"I  believe  I'll  run  a  show  when  I  get  to  be  a  man," 
said  he. 

"That  fortune  lady  said  you'd  got  to  be  President  of 
the  United  States,"  said  Eliza. 

"How  could  ze  presiman  won  a  show?"  asked  May. 

"How  could  that  old  fortune-teller  know  what  I'm 
going  to  be?"  Will  would  answer,  disdainfully.  "I  rather 
guess  I  can  have  a  show,  in  spite  of  all  the  fortune-tellers 
in  the  country.  I'll  tell  you  right  now,  girls,  I  don't 
propose  to  be  President,  but  I  do  mean  to  have  a 
show!" 

Such  temerity  in  disputing  one's  destiny  was  appalling; 
and  though  our  ideas  of  destiny  were  rather  vague,  we 
could  grasp  one  dreadful  fact:  Will  had  refused  to  be 
President  of  the  United  States!  So  we  ran  crying  to 
mother,  and  burying  our  faces  in  her  lap,  sobbed  out : 
"Oh,  mother!  Will  says  he  ain't  going  to  be  President. 
Don't  he  have  to  be?" 

Still,  in  spite  of  Will's  fine  scorn  of  fortune-tellers,  the 
prophecy  concerning  his  future  must  have  been  sometimes 
in  his  mind.  This  was  shown  in  an  episode  that  the  writer 
is  in  duty  bound,  as  a  veracious  chronicler,  to  set  down. 

Our  neighbor,  Mr.  Hathaway,  had  a  son,  Eugene,  of 
about  Will's  age,  and  the  two  were  fast  friends.  One  day, 
when  Will  was  visiting  at  Eugene's  house,  the  boys  intro- 
duced themselves  to  a  barrel  of  hard  cider.  Temperance 
sentiment  had  not  progressed  far  enough  to  bring  hard 
cider  under  the  ban,  and  Mr.  Hathaway  had  lately  pressed 
out  a  quantity  of  the  old-fashioned  beverage.  The  boys, 
supposing  it  a  harmless  drink,  took  all  they  desired — much 
more  than  they  could  carry.  They  were  in  a  deplorable 
condition  when  Mr.  Hathaway  found  them;  and  much 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  45 

distressed,  the  good  old  man  put  Eugene  to  bed  and 
brought  Will  home. 

The  family  hero  returned  to  us  with  a  flourish  of  trum- 
pets. He  stood  up  in  the  wagon  and  sang  and  shouted; 
and  when  Mr.  Hathaway  reproved  him,  "Don't  talk  to 
me,"  was  his  lofty  rejoinder.  "You  forget  that  I  am  to 
be  President  of  the  United  States." 

There  is  compensation  for  everything.  Will  never 
touched  cider  again ;  and  never  again  could  he  lord  it  over 
his  still  admiring  but  no  longer  docile  sisters.  If  he  under- 
took to  boss  or  tease  us  more  than  to  our  fancy,  we  would 
subdue  him  with  an  imitation  of  his  grandiloquent,  "You 
forget  that  I  am  to  be  President  of  the  United  States." 
Indeed,  so  severe  was  this  retaliation  that  we  seldom  saw 
him  the  rest  of  the  day. 

But  he  got  even  with  us  when  "preacher  day*'  came 
around. 

Like  "Little  Breeches'  "  father,  Will  never  did  go  in 
much  on  religion,  and  when  the  ministers  assembled  for 
"quarterly  meeting"  at  our  house,  we  never  knew  what  to 
expect  from  him.  Mother  was  a  Methodist,  and  as  our 
log  house  was  larger  than  the  others  in  the  valley,  it  fell  to 
our  lot  to  entertain  the  preachers  often.  We  kept  our 
preparations  on  the  quiet  when  Will  was  home,  but  he 
always  managed  to  find  out  what  was  up,  and  then  trouble 
began.  His  first  move  was  to  "sick"  Turk  on  the  yellow- 
legged  chickens.  They  were  our  best  ones,  and  the  only 
thing  we  had  for  the  ministers  to  eat.  Then  Will  would 
come  stalking  in : 

"Say,  mother,  just  saw  all  the  yellow-legged  chickens 
a-scooting  up  the  road.  Methodist  preachers  must  be  in 
the  wind,  for  the  old  hens  are  flying  like  sixty!" 


46          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Now,  Will,  you  call  Turk  off,  and  round  up  those 
chickens  right  away." 

"Catch  meself !"  And  Will  would  dance  around  and 
tease  so  he  nearly  drove  us  all  distracted.  It  was  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  mother  could  finally  prevail  upon 
him  to  round  up  the  chickens.  That  done,  he  would  tie  up 
the  pump-handle,  milk  the  cows  dry,  strew  the  path  to  the 
gate  with  burrs  and  thistles,  and  stick  up  a  sign,  "Thorney 
is  the  path  and  stickery  the  way  that  leedith  unto  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  Amen!" 

Then  when  mother  had  put  a  nice  clean  valance,  freshly 
starched  and  ruffled,  around  the  big  four-poster  bed  in  the 
sitting-room,  Will  would  daub  it  up  with  smearcase,  and 
just  before  the  preachers  arrived,  sneak  in  under  it,  and 
wait  for  prayers. 

Mother  always  desired  us  to  file  in  quietly,  but  we 
couldn't  pass  the  bed  without  our  legs  being  pinched;  so 
we  "hollered,"  but  were  afraid  to  tell  mother  the  reason 
before  the  ministers.  We  had  to  bear  it,  but  we  snickered 
ourselves  when  the  man  Will  called  "Elder  Green  Persim- 
mon," because  when  he  prayed  his  mouth  went  inside  out, 
came  mincing  into  the  room,  and  as  he  passed  the  valance 
and  got  a  pinch,  jerked  out  a  sour-grape  sneeze: 

"Mercy  on  us!  I  thought  I  was  bitten  by  that  fierce 
dog  of  yours,  Mrs.  Cody;  but  it  must  have  been  a  burr." 

Then  the  "experiences"  would  begin.  Will  always 
listened  quietly,  until  the  folks  began  telling  how  wicked 
they  had  been  before  they  got  religion;  then  he  would 
burst  in  with  a  vigorous  "Amen!" 

The  elders  did  not  know  Will's  voice;  so  they  would 
get  warmed  up  by  degree  as  the  amens  came  thicker  and 
faster.  When  he  had  worked  them  all  up  to  a  red-hot 
pitch,  Will  would  start  that  awful  snort  of  his  that  always 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  47 

made  us  double  up  with  giggles,  and  with  a  loud  cockle- 
doodle-doo !  would  bolt  from  the  bed  like  a  lightning  flash 
and  make  for  the  window. 

So  " preacher  day,"  as  Will  always  called  it,  became  the 
torment  of  our  lives. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Will  always  was  teasing  us,  but  if  he 
crooked  his  finger  at  us  we  would  bawl.  We  bawled  and 
squalled  from  morning  till  night.  Yet  we  fairly  worshiped 
him,  and  cried  harder  when  he  went  away  than  when  he 
was  home. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

INDIAN   ENCOUNTER   AND    SCHOOL-DAY    INCIDENTS. 

WILL  was  not  long  at  home.  The  Mormons,  who  were 
settled  in  Utah,  rebelled  when  the  government,  objecting 
to  the  quality  of  justice  meted  out  by  Brigham  Young,  sent 
a  federal  judge  to  the  territory.  Troops,  under  the  com- 
mand of  General  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  were  dispatched 
to  quell  the  insurrection,  and  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
contracted  to  transport  stores  and  beef  cattle  to  the  army 
massing  against  the  Mormons  in  the  fall  of  1857.  The  train 
was  a  large  one,  better  prepared  against  such  an  attack  as 
routed  the  McCarthy  brothers  earlier  in  the  summer;  yet 
its  fate  was  the  same. 

Will  was  assigned  to  duty  as  "  extra"  under  Lew  Simp- 
son, an  experienced  wagon-master,  and  was  subject  to  his 
orders  only.  There  was  the  double  danger  of  Mormons 
and  Indians,  so  the  pay  was  good.  Forty  dollars  a  month 
in  gold  looked  like  a  large  sum  to  an  eleven-year-old. 

Will's  second  departure  was  quite  as  tragic  as  the  first. 
We  girls,  as  before,  were  loud  in  our  wailings,  and  offered 
to  forgive  him  the  depredations  in  the  doll-house  and  all 
his  teasings,  if  only  he  would  not  go  away  and  be  scalped 
by  the  Indians.  Mother  said  little,  but  her  anxious  look, 
as  she  recalled  the  perils  of  the  former  trip,  spoke  volumes. 
He  carried  with  him  the  memory  of  the  open-mouthed 
admiration  of  little  Charlie,  to  whom  "Brother  Will"  was 
the  greatest  hero  in  the  world.  Turk's  grief  at  the  parting 

48 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  49 

was  not  a  whit  less  than  ours,  and  the  faithful  old  fellow 
seemed  to  realize  that  in  Will's  absence  the  duty  of  the 
family  protector  devolved  on  him ;  so  he  made  no  attempt 
to  follow  Will  beyond  the  gate. 

The  train  made  good  progress,  and  more  than  half  the 
journey  to  Fort  Bridger  was  accomplished  without  a  set- 
back. When  the  Rockies  were  reached,  a  noon  halt  was 
made  near  Green  River,  and  here  the  men  were  surrounded 
and  overcome  by  a  large  force  of  Danites,  the  "Avenging 
Angels"  of  the  Mormon  Church,  who  had  "stolen  the 
livery  of  the  court  of  heaven  to  serve  the  devil  in."  These 
were  responsible  for  the  atrocious  Mountain  Meadow  Mas- 
sacre, in  June  of  this  same  year,  though  the  wily  "Saints" 
had  planned  to  place  the  odium  of  an  unprovoked  murder 
of  innocent  women  and  children  upon  the  Indians,  who 
had  enough  to  answer  for,  and  in  this  instance  were  but 
the  tools  of  the  Mormon  Church.  Brigham  Young  repudi- 
ated his  accomplice,  and  allowed  John  D.  Lee  to  become 
the  scapegoat.  The  dying  statement  of  this  man  is  as 
pathetic  as  Cardinal  Wolsey's  arraignment  of  Henry  VIII. 

"A  victim  must  be  had,"  said  he,  "and  I  am  that  vic- 
tim. For  thirty  years  I  studied  to  make  Brigham  Young's 
will  my  law.  See  now  what  I  have  come  to  this  day. 
1  have  been  sacrificed  in  a  cowardly,  dastardly  manner. 
I  do  not  fear  death.  I  cannot  go  to  a  worse  place  than  I 
am  now  in." 

John  D.  Lee  deserved  his  fate,  but  Brigham  Young  was 
none  the  less  a  coward. 

The  Danites  spared  the  lives  of  the  trainmen,  but  they 
made  sad  havoc  of  the  supplies.  These  they  knew  to  be 
intended  for  the  use  of  the  army  opposed  to  Brigham 
Young.  They  carried  off  all  the  stores  they  could  handle, 
drove  with  them  or  stampeded  the  cattle,  and  burned  the 


50          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

wagons.  The  trainmen  were  permitted  to  retain  one 
wagon  and  team,  with  just  enough  supplies  to  last  them  to 
army  headquarters. 

It  was  a  disheartened,  discomfited  band  that  reached 
Fort  Bridger.  The  information  that  two  other  trains  had 
been  destroyed  added  to  their  discouragement,  for  that 
meant  that  they,  in  common  with  the  other  trainmen  and 
the  soldiers  at  the  fort,  must  subsist  on  short  rations  for 
the  winter.  There  were  nearly  four  hundred  of  these  train- 
men, and  it  was  so  late  in  the  season  that  they  had  no 
choice  but  to  remain  where  they  were  until  spring  opened. 

It  was  an  irksome  winter.  The  men  at  the  fort  hauled 
their  firewood  two  miles;  as  the  provisions  dwindled,  one 
by  one  the  oxen  were  slaughtered,  and  when  this  food  sup- 
ply was  exhausted,  starvation  reared  its  gaunt  form.  Hap- 
pily the  freighters  got  word  of  the  situation,  and  a  relief 
team  reached  the  fort  before  the  spring  was  fairly  opened. 

As  soon  as  practicable  the  return  journey  was  under- 
taken. At  Fort  Laramie  two  large  trains  were  put  in 
charge  of  Lew  Simpson,  as  brigade  wagon-master,  and  Will 
was  installed  as  courier  between  the  two  caravans,  which 
traveled  twenty  miles  apart — plenty  of  elbow  room  for 
camping  and  foraging. 

One  morning,  Simpson,  George  Woods,  and  Will,  who 
were  in  the  rear  train,  set  out  for  the  forward  one,  mounted 
upon  mules,  and  armed,  as  the  trainmen  always  were,  with 
rifle,  knife,  and  a  brace  of  revolvers.  About  half  of  the 
twenty  miles  had  been  told  off  when  the  trio  saw  a  band  of 
Indians  emerge  from  a  clump  of  trees  half  a  mile  away  and 
sweep  toward  them.  Flight  with  the  mules  was  useless; 
resistance  promised  hardly  more  success,  as  the  Indians 
numbered  a  full  half-hundred:  but  surrender  was  death  and 
mutilation. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          51 

" Shoot  the  mules,  boys!"  ordered  Simpson,  and  five 
minutes  later  two  men  and  a  boy  looked  grimly  over  a  still 
palpitating  barricade. 

The  defense  was  simple ;  rifles  at  range,  revolvers  for 
close  quarters,  knives  at  the  last.  The  chief,  easily  distin- 
guished by  his  feathered  head-dress,  was  assigned  to  Will. 
Already  his  close  shooting  was  the  pride  of  the  frontiers- 
men. Simpson's  coolness  steadied  the  lad,  who  realized 
that  the  situation  was  desperate. 

The  Indians  came  on  with  the  rush  and  scream  of  the 
March  wind.  "Fire!"  said  Simpson,  and  three  ponies 
galloped  riderless  as  the  smoke  curled  from  three  rifle 
barrels. 

Dismayed  by  the  fall  of  their  chief,  the  redskins  wheeled 
and  rode  out  of  range.  Will  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Load  up  again,  Billy!"  smiled  Simpson.  "They'll 
soon  be  back." 

"They've  only  three  or  four  rifles,"  said  Woods. 
There  had  been  little  lead  in  the  cloud  of  arrows. 

"Here  they  come!"  warned  Simpson,  and  the  trio  ran 
their  rifles  out  over  the  dead  mules. 

Three  more  riderless  ponies;  but  the  Indians  kept  on, 
supposing  they  had  drawn  the  total  fire  of  the  whites.  A 
revolver  fusillade  undeceived  them,  and  the  charging 
column  wavered  and  broke  for  cover. 

Simpson  patted  Will  on  the  shoulder  as  they  reloaded. 
"You're  a  game  one,  Billy!"  said  he. 

"You  bet  he  is,"  echoed  Woods,  coolly  drawing  an 
arrow  from  his  shoulder.  "How  is  that,  Lew — poisoned?" 

Will  waited  breathless  for  the  decision,  and  his  relief 
was  as  great  as  Woods's  when   Simpson,  after  a  critical 
scrutiny,  answered  "No." 
.     The  wound  was  hastily  dressed,  and  the  little  company 


52  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

gave  an  undivided  attention  to  the  foe,  who  were  circling 
around  their  quarry,  hanging  to  the  off  sides  of  their  ponies 
and  firing  under  them.  With  a  touch  of  the  grim  humor 
that  plain  life  breeds,  Will  declared  that  the  mules 
were  veritable  pincushions,  so  full  of  arrows  were  they  stuck. 

The  besieged  maintained  a  return  fire,  dropping  pony 
after  pony,  and  occasionally  a  rider.  This  proved  expen- 
sive sport  to  the  Indians,  and  the  whole  party  finally  with- 
drew from  range. 

There  was  a  long  breathing  spell,  which  the  trio 
improved  by  strengthening  their  defense,  digging  up  the 
dirt  with  their  knives  and  piling  it  upon  the  mules.  It  was 
tedious  work,  but  preferable  to  inactivity  and  cramped 
quarters. 

Two  hours  went  by,  and  the  plan  of  the  enemy  was 
disclosed.  A  light  breeze  arose,  and  the  Indians  fired  the 
prairie.  Luckily  the  grass  near  the  trail  was  short,  and 
though  the  heat  was  intense  and  the  smoke  stifling,  the 
barricade  held  off  the  flame.  Simpson  had  kept  a  close 
watch,  and  presently  gave  the  order  to  fire.  A  volley  went 
through  the  smoke  and  blaze,  and  the  yell  that  followed 
proved  that  it  was  not  wasted.  This  last  ruse  failing,  the 
Indians  settled  down  to  their  favorite  game — waiting. 

A  thin  line  of  them  circled  out  of  range;  ponies  were 
picketed  and  tents  pitched;  night  fell,  and  the  stars  shot 
out. 

As  Woods  was  wounded,  he  was  excused  from  guard 
duty,  Will  and  Simpson  keeping  watch  in  turn.  Will  took 
the  first  vigil,  and,  tired  though  he  was,  experienced  no 
difficulty  in  keeping  awake,  but  he  went  soundly  to  sleep 
the  moment  he  was  relieved.  He  was  wakened  by  a  dream 
that  Turk  was  barking  to  him,  and  vaguely  alarmed,  he  sat 
up  to  find  Simpson  sleeping  across  his  rifle. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          53 

The  midnight  hush  was  unbroken,  and  the  darkness  lay 
thick  upon  the  plain,  but  shapes  blacker  than  night  hovered 
near,  and  Will  laid  his  hand  on  Simpson's  shoulder. 

The  latter  was  instantly  alive,  and  Woods  was  wakened. 
A  faint  click  went  away  on  the  night  breeze,  and  a  moment 
later  three  jets  of  flame  carried  warning  to  the  up-creeping 
foe  that  the  whites  were  both  alive  and  on  the  alert. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  within  the  barricade.  The 
dawn  grew  into  day,  and  anxious  eyes  scanned  the  trail  for 
reinforcements — coming  surely,  but  on  what  heavy  and 
slow-turning  wheels! 

Noon  came  and  passed.  The  anxious  eyes  questioned 
one  another.  Had  the  rear  train  been  overcome  by  a 
larger  band  of  savages?  But  suddenly  half  a  dozen  of  the 
Indians  were  seen  to  spring  up  with  gestures  of  excite- 
ment, and  spread  the  alarm  around  the  circle. 

"They  hear  the  cracking  of  the  bull- whips,"  said 
Simpson. 

The  Indians  who  had  seen  the  first  team  pass,  and  had 
assumed  that  Simpson  and  his  companions  were  straggling 
members  of  it,  did  not  expect  another  train  so  soon. 
There  was  "mounting  in  hot  haste,"  and  the  Indians  rode 
away  in  one  bunch  for  the  distant  foothills,  just  as  the 
first  ox-team  broke  into  view. 

And  never  was  there  fairer  picture  to  more  appreciative 
eyes  than  those  same  lumbering,  clumsy  animals,  and 
never  sweeter  music  than  the  harsh  staccato  of  the  bull- 
whips. 

When  hunger  was  appeased,  and  Woods's  wound  prop- 
erly dressed,  Will,  for  the  second  time,  found  himself  a 
hero  among  the  plainsmen.  His  nerve  and  coolness  were 
dwelt  upon  by  Simpson,  and  to  the  dream  that  waked  him 
in  season  was  ascribed  the  continued  life  on  earth  of  the 


54          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

little  company.  Will,  however,  was  disposed  to  allow 
Turk  the  full  credit  for  the  service. 

The  remainder  of  the  trip  was  devoid  of  special  inci- 
dent, and  as  Will  neared  home  he  hurried  on  in  advance  of 
the  train.  His  heart  beat  high  as  he  thought  of  the  dear 
faces  awaiting  him,  unconscious  that  he  was  so  near. 

But  the  home  toward  which  he  was  hastening  with  beat- 
ing heart  and  winged  heels  was  shadowed  by  a  great  grief. 
Sister  Martha's  married  life,  though  brief,  had  amply  justi- 
fied her  brother's  estimate  of  the  man  into  whose  hands  she 
had  given  her  life.  She  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  it  was 
not  until  several  months  later  that  Will  learned  that  the 
cause  of  her  sickness  was  the  knowledge  that  had  come  to 
her  of  the  faithless  nature  of  her  husband.  The  revelation 

was  made  through  the  visit  of  one  of  Mr.  C 's  creditors, 

who,  angered  at  a  refusal  to  liquidate  a  debt,  accused  Mr. 

C of  being  a  bigamist,  and  threatened  to  set  the  law 

upon  him.  The  blow  was  fatal  to  one  of  Martha's  pure 
and  affectionate  nature,  already  crushed  by  neglect  and 
cruelty.  All  that  night  she  was  delirious,  and  her  one 
thought  was  "Willie,"  and  the  danger  he  was  in — not 
alone  the  physical  danger,  but  the  moral  and  spiritual 
peril  that  she  feared  lay  in  association  with  rough  and 
reckless  men.  She  moaned  and  tossed,  and  uttered  inco- 
herent cries;  but  as  the  morning  broke  the  storm  went 
down,  and  the  anxious  watchers  fancied  that  she  slept. 
Suddenly  she  sat  up,  the  light  of  reason  again  shining 
in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  joyous  cry,  "Tell  mother  Willie's 
saved!  Willie's  saved!"  she  fell  back  on  her  pillow,  and 
her  spirit  passed  away.  On  her  face  was  the  peace  that 
the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away.  The  veil  of  the 
Unknown  had  been  drawn  aside  for  a  space.  She  had 
"sent  her  soul  through  the  Invisible,"  and  it  had  found 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  -    55 

the  light  that  lit  the  last  weary  steps  through  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow. 

Mr.  C had  moved  from  Leavenworth  to  Johnson 

County,  twenty-five  miles  away,  and  as  there  were  neither 
telegraph  nor  mail  facilities,  he  had  the  body  sent  home, 
himself  accompanying  it.  Thus  our  first  knowledge  of 
Martha's  sickness  came  when  her  lifeless  clay  was  borne 
across  our  threshold,  the  threshold  that,  less  than  a  year 
before,  she  had  crossed  a  bright  and  bonny  bride.  Dazed 
by  the  shock,  we  longed  for  Will's  return  before  we  must 
lay  his  idolized  sister  forever  in  her  narrow  cell. 

All  of  the  family,  Mr.  C included,  were  gathered 

in  the  sitting-room,  sad  and  silent,  when  Turk  suddenly 
raised  his  head,  listened  a  second,  and  bounded  out  of 
doors. 

"Will  is  coming!"  cried  mother,  and  we  all  ran  to  the 
door.  Turk  was  racing  up  the  long  hill,  at  the  top  of 
which  was  a  moving  speck  that  the  dog  knew  to  be  his 
master.  His  keen  ears  had  caught  the  familiar  whistle  half 
a  mile  away. 

When  Turk  had  manifested  his  joy  at  the  meeting,  he 
prepared  Will  for  the  bereavement  that  awaited  him;  he 
put  his  head  down  and  emitted  a  long  and  repeated  wail. 
Will's  first  thought  was  for  mother,  and  he  fairly  ran  down 
the  hill.  The  girls  met  him  some  distance  from  the  house, 
and  sobbed  out  the  sad  news. 

And  when  he  had  listened,  the  lad  that  had  passed 
unflinching  through  two  Indian  fights,  broke  down,  and 
sobbed  with  the  rest  of  us. 

"Did  that  rasqal,  C ,  have  anything  to  do  with  her 

death?"  he  asked,  when  the  first  passion  of  grief  was  over. 

Julia,  who  knew  no  better  at  the  time,  replied  that  Mr. 
C was  the  kindest  of  husbands,  and  was  crushed  with 


56          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

sorrow  at  his  loss;  but  spite  of  the  assurance,  Will,  when 
he  reached  the  house,  had  neither  look  nor  word  for  him. 
He  just  put  his  arms  about  mother's  neck,  and  mingled 
his  grief  with  her  words  of  sympathy  and  love. 

Martha  was  shortly  after  laid  by  father's  side,  and  as 
we  stood  weeping  in  that  awful  moment  when  the  last 
spadeful  of  earth  completes  the  sepulture,  Will,  no  longer 
master  of  himself,  stepped  up  before  Mr.  C : 

" Murderer,"  he  said,  "one  day  you  shall  answer  to  me 
for  the  death  of  her  who  lies  there!" 

When  Will  next  presented  himself  at  Mr.  Majors's 
office,  he  was  told  that  his  services  had  been  wholly  satis- 
factory, and  that  he  could  have  work  at  any  time  he  desired. 
This  was  gratifying,  but  a  sweeter  pleasure  was  to  lay  his 
winter's  wages  in  mother's  lap.  Through  his  help,  and  her 
business  ability,  our  pecuniary  affairs  were  in  good  condi- 
tion. We  were  comfortably  situated,  and  as  Salt  Creek 
Valley  now  boasted  of  a  schoolhouse,  mother  wished  Will 
to  enter  school.  He  was  so  young  when  he  came  West 
that  his  school-days  had  been  few;  nor  was  the  prospect  of 
adding  to  their  number  alluring.  After  the  excitement  of 
life  on  the  plains,  going  to  school  was  dull  work;  but  Will 
realized  that  there  was  a  world  beyond  the  prairie's 
horizon,  and  he  entered  school,  determined  to  do  honest 
work. 

Our  first  teacher  was  of  the  good,  old-fashioned  sort. 
He  taught  because  he  had  to  live.  He  had  no  love  for  his 
work,  and  knew  nothing  of  children.  The  one  motto  he 
lived  up  to  was,  "Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child."  As 
Will  was  a  regular  Tartar  in  the  schoolroom,  he,  more  than 
all  the  other  scholars,  made  him  put  his  smarting  theory 
into  practice.  Almost  every  afternoon  was  attended  with 
the  dramatic  attempt  to  switch  Will.  The  schoolroom 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  57 

was  separated  into  two  grand  divisions,  "the  boys  on  teach- 
er's side,"  and  those  "on  the  Cody  side."  The  teacher 
would  send  his  pets  out  to  get  switches,  and  part  of  our 
division — we  girls,  of  course — would  begin  to  weep;  while 
those  who  had  spunk  would  spit  on  their  hands,  clench 
their  fists,  and  "dare  'em  to  bring  them  switches  in!" 
Those  were  hot  times  in  old  Salt  Creek  Valley! 

One  morning  Turk,  too,  was  seized  with  educational 
ambition,  and  accompanied  Will  to  school.  We  tried  to 
drive  him  home,  but  he  followed  at  a  distance,  and  as  we 
entered  the  schoolhouse,  he  emerged  from  the  shrubbery 
by  the  roadside  and  crept  under  the  building. 

Alas  for  the  scholars,  and  alas  for  the  school !  Another 
ambitious  dog  reposed  beneath  the  temple  of  learning. 

Will,  about  that  time,  was  having  a  bad  quarter  of  an 
hour.  An  examination  into  his  knowledge,  or  lack  of  it, 
was  under  way,  and  he  was  hard  pressed.  Had  he  been 
asked  how  to  strike  a  trail,  locate  water,  or  pitch  a  tent, 
his  replies  would  have  been  full  and  accurate,  but  the 
teacher's  queries  seemed  as  foolish  as  the  "Reeling  and 
Writhing,  Ambition,  Distraction,  Uglification,  and  Deri- 
sion" of  the  Mock  Turtle  in  "Alice  in  Wonderland." 

Turk  effected  an  unexpected  rescue.  Snarls  were  heard 
beneath  the  schoolhouse;  then  savage  growls  and  yelps, 
while  the  floor  resounded  with  the  whacks  of  the  canine 
combatants.  With  a  whoop  that  would  not  have  disgraced 
an  Indian,  Will  was  out  of  doors,  shouting,  "Eat  him  up, 
Turk!  Eat  him  up!" 

The  owner  of  the  opposing  dog  was  one  Steve  Gobel. 
'Twixt  him  and  Will  a  good-sized  feud  existed.  Steve  was 
also  on  the  scene,  with  a  defiant,  "Sic  'em,  Nigger!"  and 
the  rest  of  the  school  followed  in  his  wake. 

Of  the  twisting,  yelping  bundle  of  dog-flesh  that  rolled 


58          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

from  under  the  schoolhouse  it  was  difficult  to  say  which 
was  Turk  and  which  Nigger.  Eliza  and  I  called  to  Turk, 
and  wept  because  he  would  not  hear.  The  teacher  ordered 
the  children  back  to  their  studies,  but  they  were  as  deaf 
as  Turk;  whereat  the  enraged  pedagogue  hopped  wildly 
about,  flourishing  a  stick  and  whacking  every  boy  that 
strayed  within  reach  of  it. 

Nigger  soon  had  enough  of  the  fight,  and  striking  his 
tail-colors,  fled  yelping  from  the  battle-ground.  His  mas- 
ter, Steve  Gobel,  a  large  youth  of  nineteen  or  twenty 
years,  pulled  off  his  coat  to  avenge  upon  Will  the  dog's 
defeat,  but  the  teacher  effected  a  Solomon-like  compromise 
by  whipping  both  boys  for  bringing  their  dogs  to  school, 
after  which  the  interrupted  session  was  resumed. 

But  Gobel  nursed  his  wrath,  and  displayed  his  enmity 
in  a  thousand  small  ways.  Will  paid  no  attention  to  him, 
but  buckled  down  to  his  school  work.  Will  was  a  born 
" lady's  man,"  and  when  Miss  Mary  Hyatt  complicated  the 
feud  'twixt  him  and  Steve,  it  hurried  to  its  climax.  Mary 
was  older  than  Will,  but  she  plainly  showed  her  preference 
for  him  over  Master  Gobel.  Steve  had  never  distinguished 
himself  in  an  Indian  fight;  he  was  not  a  hero,  but  just  a 
plain  boy. 

Now,  indeed,  was  Will's  life  unendurable;  " patience 
had  had  its  perfect  work."  He  knew  that  a  boy  of  twelve, 
however  strong  and  sinewy,  was  not  a  match  for  an  almost 
full-grown  man ;  so,  to  balance  matters,  he  secreted  on  his 
person  an  old  bowie-knife.  When  next  he  met  Steve,  the 
latter  climaxed  his  bullying  tactics  by  striking  the  object  of 
his  resentment ;  but  he  was  unprepared  for  the  sudden  leap 
that  bore  him  backward  to  the  earth.  Size  and  strength 
told  swiftly  in  the  struggle  that  succeeded,  but  Will,  with 
a  dextrous  thrust,  put  the  point  of  the  bowie  into  the 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          59 

fleshy  part  of  Steve's  lower  leg,  a  spot  where  he  knew  the 
cut  would  not  be  serious. 

The  stricken  bully  shrieked  that  he  was  killed ;  the  chil- 
dren gathered  round,  and  screamed  loudly  at  the  sight  of 
blood.  "Will  Cody  has  killed  Steve  Gobel!"  was  the 
wailing  cry,  and  Will,  though  he  knew  Steve  was  but 
pinked,  began  to  realize  that  frontier  styles  of  combat 
were  not  esteemed  in  communities  given  up  to  the  soberer 
pursuits  of  spelling,  arithmetic,  and  history.  Steve,  he 
knew,  was  more  frightened  than  hurt;  but  the  picture  of 
the  prostrate,  ensanguined  youth,  and  the  group  of  awe- 
stricken  children,  bore  in  upon  his  mind  the  truth  that  his 
act  was  an  infraction  of  the  civil  code ;  that  even  in  self- 
defense,  he  had  no  right  to  use  a  knife  unless  his  life  was 
threatened. 

The  irate  pedagogue  was  hastening  to  the  scene,  and 
after  one  glance  at  him,  Will  incontinently  fled.  At  the 
road  he  came  upon  a  wagon  train,  and  with  a  shout  of  joy 
recognized  in  the  "boss"  John  Willis,  a  wagon-master 
employed  by  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell,  and  a  great  friend 
of  the  "boy  extra."  Will  climbed  up  behind  Willis  on 
his  horse,  and  related  his  escapade  to  a  close  and  sympa- 
thetic listener. 

"If  you  say  so,  Billy,"  was  his  comment,  "I'll  go  over 
and  lick  the  whole  outfit,  and  stampede  the  school." 

"No,  let  the  school  alone,"  replied  Will;  "but  I  guess 
I'll  graduate,  if  you'll  let  me  go  along  with  you  this  trip." 

Willis  readily  agreed,  but  insisted  upon  returning  to  the 
schoolhouse.  "I'm  not  going,"  said  he,  "to  let  you  be 
beaten  by  a  bully  pf  a  boy,  and  a  Yankee  school-teacher, 
with  a  little  learning,  but  not  a  bit  of  sand."  His  idea  of 
equalizing  forces  was  that  he  and  "Little  Billy"  should 
fight  against  the  pedagogue  and  Steve. 


60          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Will  consented,  and  they  rode  back  to  the  schoolhouse, 
on  the  door  of  which  Willis  pounded  with  his  revolver 
butt,  and  when  the  door  was  opened  he  invited  Gobel  and 
the  ''grammar  man"  to  come  forth  and  do  battle.  But 
Steve  had  gone  home,  and  the  teacher,  on  seeing  the  two 
gladiators,  fled,  while  the  scholars,  dismissing  themselves, 
ran  home  in  a  fright. 

That  night  mother  received  a  note  from  the  teacher. 

He  was  not  hired,  he  wrote,  to  teach  desperadoes; 
therefore  Will  was  dismissed.  But  Will  had  already  dis- 
missed himself,  and  had  rejoined  the  larger  school  whose 
walls  are  the  blue  bowl  called  the  sky.  And  long  after  was 
his  name  used  by  the  pedagogue  to  conjure  up  obedience 
in  his  pupils;  unless  they  kissed  the  rod,  they,  too,  might 
go  to  the  bad,  and  follow  in  Will  Cody's  erring  footsteps. 

Willis  and  Will  had  gone  but  a  piece  on  the  road  when 
horsemen  were  seen  approaching. 

"Mr.  Gobel  and  the  officers  are  after  me,"  said  Will. 

"Being  after  you  and  gittin'  you  are  two  different 
things,"  said  the  wagon-master.  "Lie  low,  and  I'll  settle 
the  men." 

Mr.  Gobel  and  his  party  rode  up  with  the  information 
that  they  had  come  to  arrest  Will ;  but  they  got  no  satis- 
faction from  Willis.  He  would  not  allow  them  to  search 
the  wagons,  and  they  finally  rode  away.  That  night,  when 
the  camp  was  pitched,  the  wagon-master  gave  Will  a  mule, 
and  accompanied  him  home.  We  were  rejoiced  to  see  him, 
especially  mother,  who  was  much  concerned  over  his  esca- 
pade. 

"Oh,  Will,  how  could  you  do  such  a  thing?"  she  said, 
sorrowfully.  "It  is  a  dreadful  act  to  use  a  knife  on 
any  one." 

Will    disavowed    any    homicidal    intentions;     but    his 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          61 

explanations  made  little  headway  against  mother's  disap- 
proval and  her  disappointment  over  the  interruption  of  his 
school  career.  As  it  seemed  the  best  thing  to  do,  she 
consented  to  his  going  with  the  wagon  train  under  the  care 
of  John  Willis,  and  the  remainder  of  the  night  was  passed 
in  preparations  for  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DEATH  AND  BURIAL  OF  TURK. 

THIS  trip  of  Will's  covered  only  two  months,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  another  expedition,  to  the  new  post  at  Fort 
Wallace,  at  Cheyenne  Pass. 

Meanwhile  mother  had  decided  to  improve  the  oppor- 
tunity afforded  by  her  geographical  position,  and  under 
her  supervision  "The  Valley  Grove  House"  was  go- 
ing up. 

The  hotel  commanded  a  magnificent  prospect.  Below 
lay  the  beautiful  Salt  Creek  Valley.  It  derived  its  name 
from  the  saline  properties  of  the  little  stream  that  rushed 
along  its  pebbly  bed  to  empty  its  clear  waters  into  the 
muddy  Missouri.  From  the  vantage-ground  of  our  loca- 
tion Salt  Creek  looked  like  a  silver  thread,  winding  its  way 
through  the  rich  verdure  of  the  valley.  The  region  was 
dotted  with  fertile  farms;  from  east  to  west  ran  the  gov- 
ernment road,  known  as  the  Old  Salt  Lake  Trail,  and  back 
of  us  was  Cody  Hill,  named  for  my  father.  Our  house 
stood  on  the  side  hill,  just  above  the  military  road,  and 
between  us  and  the  hilltop  lay  the  grove  that  gave  the 
hotel  its  name.  Government  hill,  which  broke  the  eastern 
sky-line,  hid  Leavenworth  and  the  Missouri  River,  cul- 
minating to  the  south  in  Pilot  Knob,  the  eminence  on 
which  my  father  was  buried,  also  beyond  our  view. 

Mother's  business  sagacity  was  justified  in  the  hotel 
venture.  The  trail  began  its  half-mile  ascent  of  Cody  Hill 

62 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          63 

just  below  our  house,  and  at  this  point  the  expedient 
known  as  "  doubling"  was  employed.  Two  teams  hauled 
a  wagon  up  the  steep  incline,  the  double  team  returning 
for  the  wagon  left  behind.  Thus  the  progress  of  a  wagon 
train,  always  slow,  became  a  very  snail's  pace,  and  the 
hotel  was  insured  a  full  quota  of  hungry  trainmen. 

Will  found  that  his  wages  were  of  considerable  aid  to 
mother  in  the  large  expense  incurred  by  the  building  of 
the  hotel ;  and  the  winter  drawing  on,  forbidding  further 
freighting  trips,  he  planned  an  expedition  with  a  party  of 
trappers.  More  money  was  to  be  made  at  this  business 
during  the  winter  than  at  any  other  time. 

The  trip  was  successful,  and  contained  only  one  adven- 
ture spiced  with  danger,  which,  as  was  so  often  the  case, 
Will  twisted  to  his  own  advantage  by  coolness  and  presence 
of  mind. 

One  morning,  as  he  was  making  the  round  of  his  traps, 
three  Indians  appeared  on  the  trail,  each  leading  a  pony 
laden  with  pelts.  One  had  a  gun ;  the  others  carried  bows 
and  arrows.  The  odds  were  three  to  one,  and  the  brave 
with  the  gun  was  the  most  to  be  feared. 

This  Indian  dropped  his  bridle-rein  and  threw  up  his 
rifle;  but  before  it  was  at  his  shoulder  Will  had  fired,  and  he 
fell  forward  on  his  face.  His  companions  bent  their  bows, 
one  arrow  passing  through  Will's  hat  and  another  piercing 
his  arm — the  first  wound  he  ever  received.  Will  swung 
his  cap  about  his  head. 

"This  way!  Here  they  are!"  he  shouted  to  an  imagi- 
nary party  of  friends  at  his  back.  Then  with  his  revolver 
he  wounded  another  of  the  Indians,  who,  believing  rein- 
forcements were  at  hand,  left  their  ponies  and  fled. 

Will  took  the  ponies  on  the  double-quick  back  to  camp, 
and  the  trappers  decided  to  pull  up  stakes  at  once.  It  had 


64          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

been  a  profitable  season,  and  the  few  more  pelts  to  be  had 
were  not  worth  the  risk  of  an  attack  by  avenging  Indians; 
so  they  packed  their  outfit,  and  proceeded  to  Fort  Laramie. 
Will  realized  a  handsome  sum  from  the  sale  of  his  cap- 
tured furs,  besides  those  of  the  animals  he  had  himself 
trapped. 

At  the  fort  were  two  men  bound  east,  and  impatient 
to  set  out,  and  Will,  in  his  haste  to  reach  home,  joined 
forces  with  them.  Rather  than  wait  for  an  uncertain 
wagon  train,  they  decided  to  chance  the  dangers  of  the 
road.  They  bought  three  ponies  and  a  pack-mule  for  the 
camp  outfit,  and  sallied  forth  in  high  spirits. 

Although  the  youngest  of  the  party,  Will  was  the  most 
experienced  plainsman,  and  was  constantly  on  the  alert. 
They  reached  the  Little  Blue  River  without  sign  of  Indians, 
but  across  the  stream  Will  espied  a  band  of  them.  The 
redskins  were  as  keen  of  eye,  and  straightway  exchanged 
the  pleasures  of  the  chase  for  the  more  exciting  pursuit  of 
human  game.  But  they  had  the  river  to  cross,  and  this 
gave  the  white  men  a  good  start.  The  pursuit  was  hot, 
and  grew  hotter,  but  the  kindly  darkness  fell,  and  under 
cover  of  it  the  trio  got  safely  away.  That  night  they 
camped  in  a  little  ravine  that  afforded  shelter  from  both 
Indians  and  weather. 

A  look  over  the  ravine  disclosed  a  cave  that  promised  a 
snug  harbor,  and  therein  Will  and  one  of  his  companions 
spread  their  blankets  and  fell  asleep.  The  third  man, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  prepare  the  supper,  kindled  a  fire  just 
inside  the  cave,  and  returned  outside  for  a  supply  of  fuel. 
When  he  again  entered  the  cave  the  whole  interior  was 
revealed  by  the  bright  firelight,  and  after  one  look  he  gave 
a  yell  of  terror,  dropped  his  firewood,  and  fled. 

Will  and  the  other  chap  were  on  their  knees  instantly, 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          65 

groping  for  their  rifles,  in  the  belief  that  the  Indians  were 
upon  them ;  but  the  sight  that  met  their  eyes  was  more 
terror-breeding  than  a  thousand  Indians.  A  dozen  bleached 
and  ghastly  skeletons  were  gathered  with  them  around  the 
camp-fire,  and  seemed  to  nod  and  sway,  and  thrust  their 
long-chilled  bones  toward  the  cheery  blaze. 

Ghastly  as  it  was  within  the  cave,  Will  found  it  more 
unpleasant  in  the  open.  The  night  was  cold,  and  a  storm 
threatened. 

"Well,"  said  he  to  his  companions,  "we  know  the 
worst  that's  in  there  now.  Those  old  dead  bones  won't 
hurt  us.  Let's  go  back." 

"Not  if  I  know  myself,  sonny,"  returned  one  of  the 
men  decidedly,  and  the  other  heartily  agreed  with  him, 
swearing  that  as  it  was,  he  should  not  be  able  to  close  his 
eyes  for  a  week.  So,  after  a  hurried  lunch  upon  the  cold 
provisions,  the  party  mounted  their  ponies  and  pushed  on. 
The  promised  snowstorm  materialized,  and  shortly  became 
a  young  blizzard,  and  obliged  to  dismount  and  camp  in  the 
open  prairie,  they  made  a  miserable  night  of  it. 

But  it:  had  an  end,  as  all  things  have,  and  with  the 
morning  they  resumed  the  trail,  reaching  Marysville,  on 
the  Big  Blue,  after  many  trials  and  privations. 

From  here  the  trail  was  easier,  as  the  country  was 
pretty  well  settled,  and  Will  reached  home  without  further 
adventure  or  misadventure.  Here  there  was  compensation 
for  hardship  in  the  joy  of  handing  over  to  mother  all  his 
money,  realizing  that  it  would  lighten  her  burdens — burdens 
borne  that  she  might  leave  her  children  provided  for  when 
she  could  no  longer  repel  the  dread  messenger,  that  in 
all  those  years  seemed  to  hover  so  near  that  even  our 
childish  hearts  felt  its  presence  ere  it  actually  crossed  the 
threshold. 


66          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

It  was  early  in  March  when  Will  returned  from  his 
trapping  expedition.  Mother's  business  was  flourishing, 
though  she  herself  grew  frailer  with  the  passing  of  each 
day.  The  summer  that  came  on  was  a  sad  one  for  us  all, 
for  it  marked  Turk's  last  days  on  earth.  One  evening  he- 
was  lying  in  the  yard,  when  a  strange  dog  came  up  the 
road,  bounded  in,  gave  Turk  a  vicious  bite,  and  went  on. 
We  dressed  the  wound,  and  thought  little  of  it,  until 
some  horsemen  rode  up,  with  the  inquiry,  "Have  you  seen 
a  dog  pass  here?" 

We  answered  indignantly  that  a  strange  dog  had  passed, 
and  had  bitten  our  dog. 

"Better  look  out  for  him,  then,"  warned  the  men  as 
they  rode  away.  "The  dog  is  mad." 

Consternation  seized  us.  It  was  dreadful  to  think  of 
Turk  going  mad — he  who  had  been  our  playmate  from 
infancy,  and  who,  through  childhood's  years,  had  grown 
more  dear  to  us  than  many  human  beings  could;  but 
mother  knew  the  matter  was  serious,  and  issued  her  com- 
mands. Turk  must  be  shut  up,  and  we  must  not  even 
visit  him  for  a  certain  space.  And  so  we  shut  him  up, 
hoping  for  the  best;  but  it  speedily  became  plain  that  the 
poison  was  working  in  his  veins,  and  that  the  greatest  kind- 
ness we  could  do  him  was  to  kill  him. 

That  was  a  frightful  alternative.  Will  utterly  refused 
to  shoot  him,  and  the  execution  was  delegated  to  the  hired 
.  man,  Will  stipulating  that  none  of  his  weapons  should  be 
used,  and  that  he  be  allowed  to  get  out  of  ear-shot. 

Late  that  afternoon,  just  before  sunset,  we  assembled 
i'n  melancholy  silence  for  the  funeral.  A  grave  had  been 
dug  on  the  highest  point  of  the  eastern  extremity  of  Cody 
Hill,  and  decorated  in  black  ribbons,  we  slowly  filed  up 
the  steep  path,  carrying  Turk's  body  on  a  pine  board  soft- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  67 

ened  with  moss.  Will  led  the  procession  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand,  and  every  now  and  then  his  fist  went  savagely  at 
his  eyes.  When  we  reached  the  grave,  we  formed  around 
it  in  a  tearful  circle,  and  Will,  who  always  called  me  "the 
little  preacher,"  told  me  to  say  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The 
sun  was  setting,  and  the  brilliant  western  clouds  were  shin- 
ing round  about  us.  There  was  a  sighing  in  the  treetops 
far  below  us,  and  the  sounds  in  the  valley  were  muffled  and 
indistinct. 

"Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,"  I  whispered  softly, 
as  all  the  children  bent  their  heads,  "Hallowed  be  Thy 
name.  Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth  as 
it  is  in  heaven."  I  paused,  and  the  other  children  said  the 
rest  in  chorus.  The  next  day  Will  procured  a  large  block 
of  red  bloodstone,  which  abounds  in  that  country,  squared 
it  off,  carved  the  name  of  Turk  upon  it  in  large  letters, 
and  we  placed  it  at  the  head  of  the  grave. 

To  us  there  had  been  no  incongruity  in  the  funeral 
ceremonials  and  burial.  Turk  had  given  us  all  that  dog 
could  give ;  we,  for  our  part,  gave  him  Christian  sepulture. 
Our  sorrow  was  sincere.  We  had  lost  an  honest,  loyal 
friend.  For  many  succeeding  days  his  grave  was  garlanded 
with  fresh  flowers,  placed  there  by  loving  hands.  Vale 
Turk!  Would  that  our  friends  of  the  higher  evolution 
were  all  as  stanch  as  thou ! 

THE   BURIAL   OF  TURK. 

Only  a  dog  !  but  the  tears  fall  fast 
As  we  lay  him  to  rest  underneath  the  green  sod, 

Where  bountiful  nature,  the  sweet  summer  through, 
Will  deck  hirn  with  daisies  and  bright  goldenrod. 

The  loving  thought  of  a  boyish  heart 

Marks  the  old  dog's  grave  with  a  bloodstone  red  ; 

The  name,  carved  in  letters  rough  and  rude, 

Keeps  his  memory  green,  though  his  life  be  sped. 


68  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

For  the  daring  young  hero  of  wood  and  plain, 
Like  all  who  are  generous,  strong,  and  brave, 

Has  a  heart  that  is  loyal  and  kind  and  true, 
And  shames  not  to  weep  o'er  his  old  friend's  grave. 

Only  a  dog,  do  you  say  ?  but  I  deem 

A  dog  who  with  faithfulness  fills  his  trust, 
More  worthy  than  many  a  man  to  be  given 

A  tribute  of  love,  when  but  ashes  and  dust. 

An  unusually  good  teacher  now  presided  at  the  school- 
house  in  our  neighborhood,  and  Will  was  again  persuaded 
into  educational  paths.  He  put  in  a  hard  winter's  work; 
but  with  the  coming  of  spring  and  its  unrest,  the  swelling 
of  buds  and  the  springing  of  grass,  the  return  of  the  birds 
and  the  twittering  from  myriad  nests,  the  Spirits  of  the 
Plains  beckoned  to  him,  and  he  joined  a  party  of  gold- 
hunters  on  the  long  trail  to  Pike's  Peak. 

The  gold  excitement  was  at  its  apogee  in  1860.  By 
our  house  had  passed  the  historic  wagon  bearing  on  its  side 
the  classic  motto,  "Pike's  Peak  or  Bust!"  Afterward, 
stranded  by  the  wayside,  a  whole  history  of  failure  and 
disappointment,  borne  with  grim  humor,  was  told  by  the 
addition  of  the  eloquent  word,  "Busted!" 

For  all  his  adventures,  Will  was  only  fourteen,  and 
although  tall  for  his  age,  he  had  not  the  physical  strength 
that  might  have  been  expected  from  his  hardy  life.  It  was 
not  strange  that  he  should  take  the  gold  fever;  less  so  that 
mother  should  dread  to  see  him  again  leave  home  to  face 
unknown  perils;  and  it  is  not  at  all  remarkable  that  upon 
reaching  Auraria,  now  Denver,  he  should  find  that  fortunes 
were  not  lying  around  much  more  promiscuously  in  a  gold 
country  than  in  any  other. 

Recent  events  have  confirmed  a  belief  that  under  the 
excitement  of  a  gold  craze  men  exercise  less  judgment  than 
at  any  other  time.  Except  in  placer  mining,  which  almost 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          69 

any  one  can  learn,  gold  mining  is  a  science.  Now  and 
again  a  nugget  worth  a  fortune  is  picked  up,  but  the  aver- 
age mortal  can  get  a  better  livelihood,  with  half  the  work, 
in  almost  any  other  field  of  effort.  To  become  rich 
a  knowledge  of  ores  and  mining  methods  is  indispen- 
sable. 

But  Will  never  reached  the  gold-fields.  Almost  the 
first  person  he  met  on  the  streets  of  Julesberg  was  George 
Chrisman,  who  had  been  chief  wagon-master  for  Russell, 
Majors  &  Waddell.  Will  had  become  well  acquainted  with 
Chrisman  on  the  various  expeditions  he  had  made  for  the 
firm. 

This  man  was  located  at  Julesberg  as  agent  for  the 
Pony  Express  line,  which  was  in  process  of  formation. 
This  line  was  an  enterprise  of  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell. 
Mr.  Russell  met  in  Washington  the  Senator  from  California. 
This  gentleman  knew  that  the  Western  firm  of  contractors 
was  running  a  daily  stagecoach  from  the  Missouri  River 
to  Sacramento,  and  he  urged  upon  Mr.  Russell  the  desir- 
ability of  operating  a  pony  express  line  along  the  same 
route.  There  was  already  a  line  known  as  the  "  Butter- 
field  Route,"  but  this  was  circuitous;  the  fastest  time  ever 
made  on  it  was  twenty-one  days. 

Mr.  Russell  laid  the  matter  before  his  partners.  They 
were  opposed  to  it,  as  they  were  sure  it  would  be  a  losing 
venture;  but  the  senior  member  urged  the  matter  so 
strongly  that  they  consented  to  try  it,  for  the  good  of  the 
country,  with  no  expectation  of  profit.  They  utilized  the 
stagecoach  stations  already  established,  and  only  about 
two  months  were  required  to  put  the  Pony  Express  line  in 
running  order. 

Riders  received  from  a  hundred  and  twenty  to  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  but  they  earned  it. 


70          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

In  order  to  stand  the  life  great  physical  strength  and 
endurance  were  necessary;  in  addition,  riders  must  be  cool, 
brave,  and  resourceful.  Their  lives  were  in  constant  peril, 
and  they  were  obliged  to  do  double  duty  in  case  the  com- 
rade that  was  to  relieve  them  had  been  disabled  by  outlaws 
or  Indians. 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  was  the  daily  distance  that 
must  be  made;  this  constituted  an  average  of  a  little  over 
ten  miles  an  hour.  In  the  exceedingly  rough  country  this 
average  could  not  be  kept  up ;  to  balance  it,  there  were  a 
few  places  in  the  route  where  the  rider  was  expected  to 
cover  twenty-five  miles  an  hour. 

In  making  such  a  run,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that 
no  extra  weight  was  carried.  Letters  were  written  on  the 
finest  tissue  paper;  the  charge  was  at  the  rate  of  five  dol- 
lars for  half  an  ounce.  A  hundred  of  these  letters  would 
make  a  bulk  not  much  larger  than  an  ordinary  writing- 
tablet. 

The  mail-pouches  were  never  to  carry  more  than  twenty 
pounds.  They  were  leather  bags,  impervious  to  moisture; 
the  letters,  as  a  further  protection,  were  wrapped  in  oiled 
silk.  The  pouches  were  locked,  sealed,  and  strapped  to 
the  rider's  side.  They  were  not  unlocked  during  the  jour- 
ney from  St.  Joseph  to  Sacramento. 

The  first  trip  was  made  in  ten  days ;  this  was  a  saving 
of  eleven  days  over  the  best  time  ever  made  by  the  "But- 
terfield  Route."  Sometimes  the  time  was  shortened  to 
eight  days;  but  an  average  trip  was  made  in  nine.  The 
distance  covered  in  this  time  was  nineteen  hundred  and 
sixty-six  miles. 

President  Buchanan's  last  presidential  message  was 
carried  in  December,  1860,  in  a  few  hours  over  eight  days. 
President  Lincoln's  inaugural,  the  following  March,  was 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          71 

transmitted  in  seven  days  and  seventeen  hours.  This  was 
the  quickest  trip  ever  made. 

The  Pony  Express  line  made  its  worth  at  once  felt.  It 
would  have  become  a  financial  success  but  that  a  telegraph 
line  was  put  into  operation  over  the  same  stretch  of  terri- 
tory, under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Edward  Creighton.  The 
first  message  was  sent  over  the  wires  the  24th  of  October, 
1 86 1.  The  Pony  Express  line  had  outlived  its  usefulness, 
and  was  at  once  discontinued.  But  it  had  accomplished 
its  main  purpose,  which  was  to  determine  whether  the 
route  by  which  it  went  could  be  made  a  permanent  track 
for  travel  the  year  through.  The  cars  of  the  Union  Pacific 
road  now  travel  nearly  the  same  old  trails  as  those  followed 
by  the  daring  riders  of  frontier  days. 

Mr.  Chrisman  gave  Will  a  cordial  greeting.  He  explained 
the  business  of  the  express  line  to  his  young  friend,  and 
stated  that  the  company  had  nearly  perfected  its  arrange- 
ments. It  was  now  buying  ponies  and  putting  them  into 
good  condition,  preparatory  to  beginning  operations.  He 
added,  jokingly: 

"It's  a  pity  you're  not  a  few  years  older,  Billy.  I 
would  give  you  a  job  as  Pony  Express  rider.  There's 
good  pay  in  it." 

Will  was  at  once  greatly  taken  with  the  idea,  and  begged 
so  hard  to  be  given  a  trial  that  Mr.  Chrisman  consented  to 
give  him  work  for  a  month.  If  the  life  proved  too  hard 
for  him,  he  was  to  be  laid  off  at  the  end  of  that  time.  He 
had  a  short  run  of  forty-five  miles;  there  were  three  relay 
stations,  and  he  was  expected  to  make  fifteen  miles  an 
hour. 

The  3d  of  April,  1860,  Mr.  Russell  stood  ready  to 
receive  the  mail  from  a  fast  New  York  train  at  St.  Joseph. 
He  adjusted  the  letter-pouch  on  the  pony  in  the  presence 


72  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

of  an  excited  crowd.  Besides  the  letters,  several  large  New 
York  papers  printed  special  editions  on  tissue  paper  for  this 
inaugural  trip.  The  crowd  plucked  hairs  from  the  tail  of 
the  first  animal  to  start  on  the  novel  journey,  and  preserved 
these  hairs  as  talismans.  The  rider  mounted,  the  moment 
for  starting  came,  the  signal  was  given,  and  off  he 
dashed. 

At  the  same  moment  Sacramento  witnessed  a  similar 
scene;  the  rider  of  that  region  started  on  the  two  thousand 
mile  ride  eastward  as  the  other  started  westward.  All  the 
way  along  the  road  the  several  other  riders  were  ready  for 
their  initial  gallop. 

Will  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the  day  when  the  express 
line  should  be  set  in  motion,  and  when  the  hour  came  it 
found  him  ready,  standing  beside  his  horse,  and  waiting  for 
the  rider  whom  he  was  to  relieve.  There  was  a  clatter  of 
hoofs,  and  a  horseman  dashed  up  and  flung  him  the  saddle- 
bags. Will  threw  them  upon  the  waiting  pony,  vaulted 
into  the  saddle,  and  was  off  like  the  wind. 

The  first  relay  station  was  reached  on  time,  and  Will 
changed  with  hardly  a  second's  loss  of  time,  while  the 
panting,  reeking  animal  he  had  ridden  was  left  to  the  care 
of  the  stock-tender.  This  was  repeated  at  the  end  of  the 
second  fifteen  miles,  and  the  last  station  was  reached  a  few 
minutes  ahead  of  time.  The  return  trip  was  made  in  good 
order,  and  then  Will  wrote  to  us  of  his  new  position,  and 
told  us  that  he  was  in  love  with  the  life. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WILL  AS    PONY    EXPRESS   RIDER. 

AFTER  being  pounded  against  a  saddle  three  dashes  daily 
for  three  months,  to  the  tune  of  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  Will 
began  to  feel  a  little  loose  in  his  joints,  and  weary  withal, 
but  he  was  determined  to  "stick  it  out."  Besides  the 
daily  pounding,  the  track  of  the  Pony  Express  rider  was 
strewn  with  perils.  A  wayfarer  through  that  w:id  land 
was  more  likely  to  run  across  outlaws  and  Indians  than  to 
pass  unmolested,  and  as  it  was  known  that  packages  of 
value  were  frequently  dispatched  by  the  Pony  Express  line, 
the  route  was  punctuated  by  ambuscades. 

Will  had  an  eye  out  every  trip  for  a  hold-up,  but  three 
months  went  by  before  he  added  that  novelty  to  his  other 
experiences.  One  day,  as  he  flew  around  a  bend  in  a  nar- 
row pass,  he  confronted  a  huge  revolver  in  the  grasp  of  a 
man  who  manifestly  meant  business,  and  whose  salutation 
was: 

"Halt!  Throw  up  your  hands!" 

Most  people  do,  and  Will's  hands  were  raised  reluc- 
tantly. The  highwayman  advanced,  saying,  not  unkindly: 

"I  don't  want  to  hurt  you;  boy,  but  I  do  want  them 
bags." 

Money  packages  were  in  the  saddlebags,  and  Will  was 
minded  to  save  them  if  he  could,  so,  as  the  outlaw  reached 
for  the  booty,  Will  touched  the  pony  with  his  foot,  and  the 
upshot  was  satisfactory  to  an  unexpected  degree.  The 

73 


74  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

plunge  upset  the  robber,  and  as  the  pony  swept  over  him 
he  got  a  vicious  blow  from  one  hoof.  Will  wheeled  for  a 
revolver  duel,  but  the  foe  was  prostrate,  stunned,  and 
bleeding  at  the  head.  Will  disarmed  the  fellow,  and  pin- 
ioned his  arms  behind  him,  and  then  tied  up  his  broken 
head.  Will  surmised  that  the  prisoner  must  have  a  horse 
hidden  hard  by,  and  a  bit  of  a  search  disclosed  it.  When 
he  returned  with  the  animal,  its  owner  had  opened  his  eyes 
and  was  beginning  to  remember  a  few  things.  Will  helped 
him  to  mount,  and  out  of  pure  kindness  tied  him  on;  then 
he  straddled  his  own  pony,  and  towed  the  dismal  outfit 
along  with  him. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  been  behind  on  his 
run,  but  by  way  of  excuse  he  offered  to  Mr.  Chrisman  a 
broken-headed  and  dejected  gentleman  tied  to  a  horse's 
back;  and  Chrisman,  with  a  grin,  locked  the  excuse  up  for 
future  reference. 

A  few  days  after  this  episode  Will  received  a  letter 
from  Julia,  telling  him  that  mother  was  ill,  and  asking  him 
to  come  home.  He  at  once  sought  out  Mr.  Chrisman,  and 
giving  his  reason,  asked  to  be  relieved. 

''I'm  sorry  your  mother  is  sick,"  was  the  answer,  "bat 
I'm  glad  something  has  occurred  to  make  you  quit  this  life. 
It's  wearing  you  out,  Billy,  and  you're  too  gritty  to  give  it 
up  without  a  good  reason." 

Will  reached  home  to  find  mother  slightly  improved. 
For  three  weeks  was  he  content  to  remain  idly  at  home; 
then  (it  was  November  of  1860)  his  unquiet  spirit  bore  him 
away  on  another  trapping  expedition,  this  time  with  a  young 
friend  named  David  Phillips. 

They  bought  an  ox-team  and  wagon  to  transport  the 
traps,  camp  outfit,  and  provisions,  and  took  along  a  large 
supply  of  ammunition,  besides  extra  rifles.  Their  destina- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          75 

tion  was  the  Republican  River.  It  coursed  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  from  Leavenworth,  but  the  country  about 
it  was  reputed  rich  in  beaver.  Will  acted  as  scout  on  the 
journey,  going  ahead  to  pick  out  trails,  locate  camping 
grounds,  and  look  out  for  breakers.  The  information  con- 
cerning the  beaver  proved  correct ;  the  game  was  indeed  so 
plentiful  that  they  concluded  to  pitch  a  permanent  camp 
and  see  the  winter  out. 

They  chose  a  hollow  in  a  sidehill,  and  enlarged  it  to 
the  dimensions  of  a  decent-sized  room.  A  floor  of  logs 
was  put  in,  and  a  chimney  fashioned  of  stones,  the  open 
lower  part  doing  double  duty  as  cook-stove  and  heater; 
the  bed  was  spread  in  the  rear,  and  the  wagon  sheltered 
the  entrance.  A  corral  of  poles  was  built  for  the  oxen,  and 
one  corner  of  it  protected  by  boughs.  Altogether,  they 
accounted  their  winter  quarters  thoroughly  satisfactory 
and  agreeable. 

The  boys  had  seen  no  Indians  on  their  trip  out,  and 
were  not  concerned  in  that  quarter,  though  they  were  too 
good  plainsmen  to  relax  their  vigilance.  There  were  other 
foes,  as  they  discovered  the  first  night  in  their  new  quarters. 
They  were  aroused  by  a  commotion  in  the  corral  where  the 
oxen  were  confined,  and  hurrying  out  with  their  rifles, 
they  found  a  huge  bear  intent  upon  a  feast  of  beef.  The 
oxen  were  bellowing  in  terror,  one  of  them  dashing  crazily 
about  the  inclosure,  and  the  other  so  badly  hurt  that  it 
could  not  get  up. 

Phillips,  who  was  in  the  lead,  fired  first,  but  succeeded 
only  in  wounding  the  bear.  Pain  was  now  added  to  the 
savagery  of  hunger,  and  the  infuriated  monster  rushed  upon 
Phillips.  Dave  leaped  back,  but  his  foot  slipped  on  a  bit 
of  ice,  and  he  went  down  with  a  thud,  his  rifle  flying  from 
his  hand  as  he  struck. 


76          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

But  there  was  a  cool  young  head  and  a  steady  hand 
behind  him.  A  ball  from  Will's  rifle  entered  the  dis- 
tended mouth  of  the  onrushing  bear  and  pierced  the  brain, 
and  the  huge  mass  fell  lifeless  almost  across  Dave's  body. 

Phillips's  nerves  loosened  with  a  snap,  and  he  laughed 
for  very  relief  as  he  seized  Will's  hands. 

" That's  the  time  you  saved  my  life,  old  fellow!"  said 
he.  " Perhaps  I  can  do  as  much  for  you  sometime." 

"That's  the  first  bear  I  ever  killed,"  said  Will,  more 
interested  in  that  topic  than  in  the  one  Dave  held 
forth  on. 

One  of  the  oxen  was  found  to  be  mortally  hurt,  and  a 
bullet  ended  its  misery.  Will  then  took  his  first  lesson  in 
the  gentle  art  of  skinning  a  bear. 

Dave's  chance  to  square  his  account  with  Will  came  a 
fortnight  later.  They  were  chasing  a  brunch  of  elk,  when 
Will  fell,  and  discovered  that  he  could  not  rise. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  broken  my  leg,"  said  he,  as  Dave  ran 
to  him. 

Phillips  had  once  been  a  medical  student,  and  he 
examined  the  leg  with  a  professional  eye.  "You're  right, 
Billy;  the  leg's  broken,"  he  reported. 

Then  he  went  to  work  to  improvise  splints  and  bind  up 
the  leg;  and  this  done,  he  took  Will  on  his  back  and  bore 
him  to  the  dugout.  Here  the  leg  was  stripped,  and  set 
in  carefully  prepared  splints,  and  the  whole  bound  up 
securely. 

The  outlook  was  unpleasant,  cheerfully  as  one  might 
regard  it.  Living  in  the  scoop  of  a  sidehill  when  one  is 
strong  and  able  to  get  about  and  keep  the  blood  coursing 
is  one  thing;  living  there  pent  up  through  a  tedious  winter 
is  quite  another.  Dave  meditated  as  he  worked  away  at 
the  pair  of  crutches. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          77 

"Tell  you  what  I  think  I'd  better  do,"  said  he.  "The 
nearest  settlement  is  some  hundred  miles  away,  and  I  can 
get  there  and  back  in  twenty  days.  Suppose  I  make 
the  trip,  get  a  team  for  our  wagon,  and  come  back 
for  you?" 

The  idea  of  being  left  alone  and  well-nigh  helpless 
struck  dismay  to  Will's  heart,  but  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  and  he  assented.  Dave  put  matters  into  shipshape, 
piled  wood  in  the  dugout,  cooked  a  quantity  of  food  and 
put  it  where  Will  could  reach  it  without  rising,  and  fetched 
several  days'  supply  of  water.  Mother,  ever  mindful  of 
Will's  education,  had  put  some  school-books  in  the  wagon, 
and  Dave  placed  these  beside  the  food  and  water.  When 
Phillips  finally  set  out,  driving  the  surviving  ox  before  him, 
he  left  behind  a  very  lonely  and  homesick  boy. 

During  the  first  day  of  his  confinement  Will  felt  too 
desolate  to  eat,  much  less  to  read ;  but  as  he  grew  accus- 
tomed to  solitude  he  derived  real  pleasure  from  the  com- 
panionship of  books.  Perhaps  in  all  his  life  he  never 
extracted  so  much  benefit  from  study  as  during  that  brief 
period  of  enforced  idleness,  when  it  was  his  sole  means  of 
making  the  dragging  hours  endurable.  Dave,  he  knew, 
could  not  return  in  less  than  twenty  days,  and  one  daily 
task,  never  neglected,  was  to  cut  a  notch  in  the  stick  that 
marked  the  humdrum  passage  of  the  days.  Within  the 
week  he  could  hobble  about  on  his  crutches  for  a  short 
distance ;  after  that  he  felt  more  secure. 

A  fortnight  passed.  And  one  day,  weary  with  his 
studies,  he  fell  asleep  over  his  books.  Some  one  touched 
his  shoulder,  and  looking  up,  he  saw  an  Indian  in  war 
paint  and  feathers. 

"How?"  said  Will,  with  a  show  of  friendliness,  though 
he  knew  the  brave  was  on  the  war-path. 


78          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Half  a  score  of  bucks  followed  at  the  heels  of  the  first, 
squeezing  into  the  little  dugout  until  there  was  barely 
room  for  them  to  sit  down. 

With  a  sinking  heart  Will  watched  them  enter,  but  he 
plucked  up  spirit  again  when  the  last,  a  chief,  pushed  in, 
for  in  this  warrior  he  recognized  an  Indian  that  he  had 
once  done  a  good  turn. 

Whatever  Lo's  faults,  he  never  forgets  a  kindness  any 
more  than  he  forgets  an  injury.  The  chief,  who  went  by 
the  name  of  Rain-in-the-Face,  at  once  recognized  Will, 
and  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  in  that  place.  Will  dis- 
played his  bandages,  and  related  the  mishap  that  had 
made  them  necessary,  and  refreshed  the  chief's  memory  of 
a  certain  occasion  when  a  blanket  and  provisions  had  drifted 
his  way.  Rain-in-the-Face  replied,  with  proper  gravity, 
that  he  and  his  chums  were  put  after  scalps,  and  confessed 
to  designs  upon  Will's,  but  in  consideration  of  Auld  Lang 
Syne  he  would  spare  the  paleface  boy. 

Auld  Lang  Syne,  however,  did  not  save  the  blankets 
and  provisions,  and  the  bedizened  crew  stripped  the  dug- 
out almost  bare  of  supplies;  but  Will  was  thankful  enough 
to  see  the  back  of  the  last  of  them. 

Two  days  later  a  blizzard  set  in.  Will  took  an  inven- 
tory, and  found  that,  economy  considered,  he  had  food  for 
a  week ;  but  as  the  storm  would  surely  delay  Dave,  he  put 
himself  on  half  rations. 

Three  weeks  were  now  gone,  and  he  looked  for  Dave 
momentarily;  but  as  night  followed  day,  and  day  grew 
into  night  again,  he  was  given  over  to  keen  anxiety.  Had 
Phillips  lost  his  way?  Had  he  failed  to  locate  the  snow- 
covered  dugout?  Had  he  perished  in  the  storm?  Had  he 
fallen  victim  to  Indians?  These  and  like  questions  haunted 
the  poor  lad  continually.  Study  became  impossible,  and 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  79 

he  lost  his  appetite  for  what  food  there  was  left ;  but  the 
tally  on  the  stick  was  kept. 

The  twenty-ninth  day  dawned.  Starvation  stalked 
into  the  dugout.  The  wood,  too,  was  nigh  gone.  But 
great  as  was  Will's  physical  suffering,  his  mental  distress 
was  greater.  He  sat  before  a  handful  of  fire,  shivering  and 
hungry,  wretched  and  despondent. 

Hark!  Was  that  his  name?  Choking  with  emotion, 
unable  to  articulate,  he  listened  intently.  Yes;  it  was  his 
name,  and  Dave's  familiar  voice,  and  with  all  his  remain- 
ing energy  he  made  an  answering  call. 

His  voice  enabled  Phillips  to  locate  the  dugout,  and  a 
passage  was  cleared  through  the  snow.  And  when  Will 
saw  the  door  open,  the  tension  on  his  nerves  let  go,  and  he 
wept— '"like  a  girl,"  as  he  afterward  told  us. 

"God  bless  you,  Dave!"  he  cried,  as  he  clasped  his 
friend  around  the  neck. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ECHOES    FROM    SUMTER. 

THE  guns  that  opened  on  Fort  Sumter  set  the  country  all 
ablaze.  In  Kansas,  where  blood  had  already  been  shed, 
the  excitement  reached  an  extraordinary  pitch.  Will 
desired  to  enlist,  but  mother  would  not  listen  to  the 
idea. 

My  brother  had  never  forgotten  the  vow  made  in  the 
post-trader's,  and  now  with  the  coming  of  war  his  oppor- 
tunity seemed  ripe  and  lawful ;  he  could  at  least  take  up 
arms  against  father's  old-time  enemies,  and  at  the  same 
time  serve  his  country.  This  aspect  of  the  case  was  pre- 
sented to  mother  in  glowing  colors,  backed  by  most  elo- 
quent pleading;  but  she  remained  obdurate. 

"You  are  too  young  to  enlist,  Willie,"  she  said. 
"They  would  not  accept  you,  and  if  they  did,  I  could  not 
endure  it.  I  have  only  a  little  time  to  live;  for  my 
sake,  then,  wait  till  I  am  no  more  before  you  enter  the 
army." 

This  request  was  not  to  be  disregarded,  and  Will  prom- 
ised that  he  would  not  enlist  while  mother  lived. 

Kansas  had  long  been  the  scene  of  bitter  strife  between 
the  two  parties,  and  though  there  was  a  preponderance  of 
the  Free-Soil  element  when  it  was  admitted  to  the  Union 
in  1 86 1,  we  were  fated  to  see  some  of  the  horrors  of  slav- 
ery. Suffering  makes  one  wondrous  kind ;  mother  had 
suffered  so  much  herself  that  the  misery  of  others  ever 

80 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          &i 

vibrated  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  her  breast,  and  our  house 
became  a  station  on  "the  underground  railway."  Many 
a  fugitive  slave  did  we  shelter,  many  here  received  food 
and  clothing,  and,  aided  by  mother,  a  great  number  reached 
safe  harbors. 

One  old  man,  named  Uncle  Tom,  became  so  much 
attached  to  us  that  he  refused  to  go  on.  We  kept  him  as 
help  about  the  hotel.  He  was  with  us  several  months,  and 
we  children  grew  very  fond  of  him.  Every  evening  when 
supper  was  over,  he  sat  before  the  kitchen  fire  and  told  a 
breathless  audience  strange  stories  of  the  days  of  slavery. 
And  one  evening,  never  to  be  forgotten,  Uncle  Tom  was 
sitting  in  his  accustomed  place,  surrounded  by  his  juvenile 
listeners,  when  he  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  cry  of 
terror.  Some  men  had  entered  the  hotel  sitting-room,  and 
the  sound  of  their  voices  drove  Uncle  Tom  to  his  own  little 
room,  and  under  the  bed. 

"Mrs.  Cody,"  said  the  unwelcome  visitors,  "we  under- 
stand that  you  are  harboring  our  runaway  slaves.  We 
propose  to  search  the  premises ;  and  if  we  find  our  prop- 
erty, you  cannot  object  to  our  removing  it." 

Mother  was  sorely  distressed  for  the  unhappy  Uncle 
Tom,  but  she  knew  objection  would  be  futile.  She  could 
only  hope  that  the  old  colored  man  had  made  good  his 
escape. 

But  no!  Uncle  Tom  lay  quaking  under  his  bed,  and 
there  his  brutal  master  found  him.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  there  were  slaveholders  kind  and  humane,  but  the 
bitter  curse  of  slavery  was  the  open  door  it  left  for  brutal- 
ity and  inhumanity ;  and  never  shall  I  forget  the  barbarity 
displayed  by  the  owner  of  Uncle  Tom  before  our  horrified 
eyes.  The  poor  slave  was  so  old  that  his  hair  was  wholly 
white;  yet  a  rope  was  tied  to  it,  and,  despite  our  pleadings, 


82          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

he  was  dragged  from  the  house,  every  cry  he  uttered  evok- 
ing only  a  savage  kick  from  a  heavy  riding-boot.  When 
he  was  out  of  sight,  and  his  screams  out  of  hearing,  we 
wept  bitterly  on  mother's  loving  breast. 

Uncle  Tom  again  escaped,  and  made  his  way  to  our 
house,  but  he  reached  it  only  to  die.  We  sorrowed  for 
the  poor  old  slave,  but  thanked  God  that  he  had  passed 
beyond  the  inhumanity  of  man. 

Debarred  from  serving  his  country  as  a  soldier,  Will 
decided  to  do  so  in  some  other  capacity,  and  accordingly 
took  service  with  a  United  States  freight  caravan,  trans- 
porting supplies  to  Fort  Laramie.  On  this  trip  his  frontier 
training  and  skill  as  a  marksman  were  the  means  of  saving 
a  life. 

In  Western  travel  the  perils  from  outlaws  and  Indians 
were  so  real  that  emigrants  usually  sought  the  protection 
of  a  large  wagon-train.  Several  families  of  emigrants  jour- 
neyed under  the  wing  of  the  caravan  to  which  Will  was 
attached. 

When  in  camp  one  day  upon  the  bank  of  the  Platte 
River,  and  the  members  of  the  company  were  busied 
with  preparations  for  the  night's  rest  and  the  next  day's 
journey,  Mamie  Perkins,  a  little  girl  from  one  of  the  emi- 
grant families,  was  sent  to  the  river  for  a  pail  of  water.  A 
moment  later  a  monster  buffalo  was  seen  rushing  upon  the 
camp.  A  chorus  of  yells  and  a  fusillade  from  rifles  and 
revolvers  neither  checked  nor  swerved  him.  Straight 
through  the  camp  he  swept,  like  a  cyclone,  leaping  ropes 
and  boxes,  overturning  wagons,  and  smashing  things 
generally. 

Mamie,  the  little  water-bearer,  had  filled  her  pail  and 
was  returning  in  the  track  selected  by  the  buffalo.  Too 
terrified  to  move,  she  watched,  with  white  face  and  parted 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          83 

lips,  the  maddened  animal  sweep  toward  her,  head  down 
and  tail  up,  its  hoofs  beating  a  thunderous  tattoo  on  the 
plain. 

Will  had  been  asleep,  but  the  commotion  brought  him 
to  his  feet,  and  snatching  up  his  rifle,  he  ran  toward  the 
little  girl,  aimed  and  fired  at  the  buffalo.  The  huge  animal 
lurched,  staggered  a  few  yards  farther,  then  dropped  within 
a  dozen  feet  of  the  terrified  child. 

A  shout  of  relief  went  up,  and  while  a  crowd  of  prais- 
ing men  gathered  about  the  embryo  buffalo-hunter,  Mamie 
was  taken  to  her  mother.  Will  never  relished  hearing  his 
praises  sung,  and  as  the  camp  was  determined  to  pedestal 
him  as  a  hero,  he  ran  away  and  hid  in  his  tent. 

Upon  reaching  Fort  Laramie,  Will's  first  business  was 
to  look  up  Alf  Slade,  agent  of  the  Pony  Express  line, 
whose  headquarters  were  at  Horseshoe  Station,  twenty 
miles  from  the  fort.  He  carried  a  letter  of  recommenda- 
tion from  Mr.  Russell,  but  Slade  demurred. 

''You're  too  young  for  a  Pony  Express  rider,"  said  he. 

"I  rode  three  months  a  year  ago,  sir,  and  I'm  much 
stronger  now,"  said  Will. 

"Oh,  are  you  the  boy  rider  that  was  on  Chrisman's 
division?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"All  right;  I'll  try  you.  If  you  can't  stand  it,  I  '11 
give  you  something  easier." 

Will's  run  was  from  Red  Buttes,  on  the  North  Platte, 
to  Three  Crossings,  on  the  Sweetwater — seventy-six  miles. 

The  wilderness  was  of  the  kind  that  is  supposed  to 
howl,  and  no  person  fond  of  excitement  had  reason  to 
complain  of  lack  of  it.  One  day  Will  arrived  at  his  last 
station  to  find  that  the  rider  on  the  next  run  had  been 
mortally  hurt  by  Indians.  There  being  no  one  else  to  do 


84  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

it,  he  volunteered  to  ride  the  eighty-five  miles  for  the 
wounded  man.  He  accomplished  it,  and  made  his  own 
return  trip  on  time — a  continuous  ride  of  three  hundred 
and  twenty-two  miles.  There  was  no  rest  for  the  rider, 
but  twenty-one  horses  were  used  on  the  run — the  longest 
ever  made  by  a  Pony  Express  rider. 

Shortly  afterward  Will  fell  in  with  California  Joe,  a 
remarkable  frontier  character.  He  was  standing  beside  a 
group  of  bowlders  that  edged  the  trail  when  Will  first 
clapped  eyes  on  him,  and  the  Pony  Express  man  instantly 
reached  for  his  revolver.  The  stranger  as  quickly  dropped 
his  rifle,  and  held  up  his  hands  in  token  of  friendliness. 
Will  drew  rein,  and  ran  an  interested  eye  over  the  man, 
who  was  clad  in  buckskin. 

California  Joe,  who  was  made  famous  in  General 
Custer's  book,  entitled  "Life  on  the  Plains,"  was  a  man 
of  wonderful  physique,  straight  and  stout  as  a  pine. 
His  red-brown  hair  hung  in  curls  below  his  shoulders;  he 
wore  a  full  beard,  and  his  keen,  sparkling  eyes  were  of  the 
brightest  hue.  He  came  from  an  Eastern  family,  and 
possessed  a  good  education,  somewhat  rusty  from  disuse. 

"Hain't  you  the  boy  rider  I  has  heard  of — the  youngest 
rider  on  the  trail?"  he  queried,  in  the  border  dialect.  Will 
made  an  affirmative  answer,  and  gave  his  name. 

"Waal,*'  said  Joe,  "I  guess  you've  got  some  money  on 
this  trip.  I  was  strikin'  fer  the  Big  Horn,  and  I  found 
them  two  stiffs  up  yonder  layin'  fer  ye.  We  had  a  little 
misunderstandin',  and  now  I  has  'em  to  plant." 

Will  thanked  him  warmly,  and  begged  him  not  to  risk 
the  perils  of  the  Big  Horn ;  but  California  Joe  only  laughed, 
and  told  him  to  push  ahead. 

When  Will  reached  his  station  he  related  his  adventure, 
and  the  stock-tender  said  it  was  "good  by,  California  Jce." 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          85 

But  Will  had  conceived  a  better  opinion  of  his  new  friend, 
and  he  predicted  his  safe  return. 

This  confidence  was  justified  by  the  appearance  of  Cali- 
fornia Joe,  three  months  later,  in  the  camp  of  the  Pony 
Riders  on  the  Overland  trail.  He  received  a  cordial  greet- 
ing, and  was  assured  by  the  men  that  they  had  not  expected 
to  see  him  alive  again.  In  return  he  told  them  his  story, 
and  a  very  interesting  story  it  was. 

"Some  time  ago,"  said  he  (I  shall  not  attempt  to 
reproduce  his  dialect),  "a  big  gang  of  gold-hunters  went 
into  the  Big  Horn  country.  They  never  returned,  and  the 
general  sent  me  to  see  if  I  could  get  any  trace  of  them. 
The  country  is  full  of  Indians,  and  I  kept  my  eye  skinned 
for  them,  but  I  wasn't  looking  for  trouble  from  white  men. 
I  happened  to  leave  my  revolver  where  I  ate  dinner  one 
day,  and  soon  after  discovering  the  loss  I  went  back  after 
the  gun.  Just  as  I  picked  it  up  I  saw  a  white  man  on  my 
trail.  I  smelled  trouble,  but  turned  and  jogged  along  as 
if  I  hadn't  seen  anything.  That  night  I  doubled  back  over 
my  trail  until  I  came  to  the  camp  where  the  stranger 
belonged.  As  I  expected,  he  was  one  of  a  party  of  three, 
but  they  had  five  horses.  I'll  bet  odds,  Pard  Billy" — this 
to  Will — "that  the  two  oilgrims  laying  for  you  belonged 
to  this  outfit. 

"They  thought  I'd  found  gold,  and  were  going  to  fol- 
low me  until  I  struck  the  mine,  then  do  me  up  and  take 
possession. 

"The  gold  is  there,  too,  lots  of  it.  There's  silver,  iron, 
copper,  and  coal,  too,  but  no  one  will  look  at  them  so  long 
as  gold  is  to  be  had ;  but  those  that  go  for  gold  will,  many 
of  them,  leave  their  scalps  behind. 

"We  kept  the  trail  day  after  day;  the  men  stuck  right 
to  me,  the  chap  ahead  keeping  me  in  sight  and  marking 


86          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

out  the  trail  for  his  pard.  When  we  got  into  the  heart  of 
the  Indian  country  I  had  to  use  every  caution ;  I  steered 
clear  of  every  smoke  that  showed  a  village  or  camp,  and 
didn't  use  my  rifle  on  game,  depending  on  the  rations  I 
had  with  me. 

1  'At  last  I  came  to  a  spot  that  showed  signs  of  a  battle. 
Skulls  and  bones  were  strewn  around,  and  after  a  look 
about  I  was  satisfied  beyond  doubt  that  white  men  had 
been  of  the  company.  The  purpose  of  my  trip  was 
accomplished;  I  could  safely  report  that  the  party  of 
whites  had  been  exterminated  by  Indians. 

"The  question  now  was,  could  I  return  without  running 
into  Indians?  The  first  thing  was  to  give  my  white  pur- 
suers the  slip. 

"That  night  I  crept  down  the  bed  of  a  small  stream, 
passed  their  camp,  and  struck  the  trail  a  half  mile  or  so 
below. 

"It  was  the  luckiest  move  I  ever  made.  I  had  ridden 
but  a  short  distance  when  I  heard  the  familiar  war-whoop, 
and  knew  that  the  Indians  had  surprised  my  unpleasant 
acquaintances  and  taken  their  scalps.  I  should  have  shared 
the  same  fate  if  I  hadn't  moved. 

"But,  boys,  it  is  a  grand  and  beautiful  country,  full  of 
towering  mountains,  lovely  valleys,  and  mighty  trees." 

About  the  middle  of  September  the  Indians  became 
very  troublesome  along  the  Sweetwater.  Will  was 
ambushed  one  day,  but  fortunately  he  was  mounted  on 
one  of  the  fleetest  of  the  company's  horses,  and  lying  flat 
on  the  animal's  back,  he  distanced  the  redskins.  At  the 
relay  station  he  found  the  stock-tender  dead,  and  as  the 
horses  had  been  driven  off,  he  was  unable  to  get  a  fresh 
mount ;  so  he  rode  the  same  horse  to  Plontz  Station,  twelve 
miles  farther. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          87 

A  few  days  later  the  station  boss  of  the  line  hailed  Will 
with  the  information: 

"There's  Injun  signs  about;  so  keep  your  eyes  open." 

"I'm  on  the  watch,  boss,"  was  Will's  answer,  as  he 
exchanged  ponies  and  dashed  away. 

The  trail  ran  through  a  grim  wild.  It  was  darkened  by 
mountains,  overhung  with  cliffs,  and  fringed  with  monster 
pines.  The  young  rider's  every  sense  had  been  sharpened 
by  frontier  dangers.  Each  dusky  rock  and  tree  was  scanned 
for  signs  of  lurking  foes  as  he  clattered  down  the  twilight 
track. 

One  large  bowlder  lay  in  plain  view  far  down  the  valley, 
and  for  a  second  he  saw  a  dark  object  appear  above  it. 

He  kept  his  course  until  within  rifle-shot,  and  then 
suddenly  swerved  away  in  an  oblique  line.  The  ambush 
had  failed,  and  a  puff  of  smoke  issued  from  behind  the 
bowlder.  Two  braves,  in  gorgeous  war  paint,  sprang  up, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  score  of  whooping  Indians  rode  out 
of  timber  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley. 

Before  Will  the  mountains  sloped  to  a  narrow  pass; 
could  he  reach  that  he  would  be  comparatively  safe.  The 
Indians  at  the  bowlder  were  unmounted,  and  though  they 
were  fleet  of  foot,  he  easily  left  them  behind.  The  mounted 
reds  were  those  to  be  feared,  and  the  chief  rode  a  very 
fleet  pony.  As  they  neared  the  pass  Will  saw  that  it  was 
life  against  life.  He  drew  his  revolver,  and  the  chief,  *for 
his  part,  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow. 

Will  was  a  shade  the  quicker.  His  revolver  cracked, 
and  the  warrior  pitched  dead  from  his  saddle.  His  fall  was 
the  signal  for  a  shower  of  arrows,  one  of  which  wounded 
the  pony  slightly;  but  the  station  was  reached  on  time. 

The  Indians  were  now  in  evidence  all  the  time. 
Between  Split  Rock  and  Three  Crossings  they  robbed  a 


88          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

stage,  killed  the  driver  and  two  passengers,  and  wounded 
Lieutenant  Flowers,  the  assistant  division  agent.  They 
drove  the  stock  from  the  stations,  and  continually  harassed 
the  Pony  Express  riders  and  stage-drivers.  So  bold  did 
the  reds  become  that  the  Pony  riders  were  laid  off  for  six 
weeks,  though  stages  were  to  make  occasional  runs  if  the 
business  were  urgent.  A  force  was  organized  to  search  for 
missing  stock.  There  were  forty  men  in  the  party — stage- 
drivers,  express-riders,  stock-tenders,  and  ranchmen;  and 
they  were  captained  by  a  plainsman  named  Wild  Bill,  who 
was  a  good  friend  of  Will  for  many  years. 

He  had  not  earned  the  sobriquet  through  lawlessness. 
It  merely  denoted  his  dashing  and  daring.  Physically  he 
was  well-nigh  faultless — tall,  straight,  and  symmetrical, 
with  broad  shoulders  and  splendid  chest.  He  was  hand- 
some of  face,  with  a  clear  blue  eye,  firm  and  well-shaped 
mouth,  aquiline  nose,  and  brown,  curling  hair,  worn  long 
upon  his  shoulders.  Born  of  a  refined  and  cultured  family, 
he,  like  Will,  seemingly  inherited  from  some  remote 
ancestor  his  passion  for  the  wild,  free  life  of  the  plains. 

At  this  time  Wild  Bill  was  a  well-known  scout,  and  in 
this  capacity  served  the  United  States  to  good  purpose 
during  the  war. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   SHORT   BUT   DASHING   INDIAN    CAMPAIGN. 

As  Will  was  one  of  the  laid-off  riders,  he  was  allowed  to 
join  the  expedition  against  the  Indian  depredators,  though 
he  was  the  youngest  member  of  the  company. 

The  campaign  was  short  and  sharp.  The  Indian  trail 
was  followed  to  Powder  River,  and  thence  along  the  banks 
of  the  stream  the  party  traveled  to  within  forty  miles  of 
the  spot  where  old  Fort  Reno  now  stands;  from  here  the 
trail  ran  westerly,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  was 
crossed  by  Crazy  Woman's  Fork,  a  tributary  of  the 
Powder. 

Originally  this  branch  stream  went  by  the  name  of  the 
Big  Beard,  because  of  a  peculiar  grass  that  fringed  it.  On 
its  bank  had  stood  a  village  of  the  Crow  Indians,  and  here 
a  half-breed  trader  had  settled.  He  bought  the  red  man's 
furs,  and  gave  him  in  return  bright-colored  beads  and 
pieces  of  calico,  paints,  and  blankets.  In  a  short  time  he 
had  all  the  furs  in  the  village;  he  packed  them  on  ponies, 
and  said  good  by  to  his  Indian  friends.  They  were  sorry 
to  see  him  go,  but  he  told  them  he  would  soon  return  from 
the  land  of  the  paleface,  bringing  many  gifts.  Months 
passed ;  one  day  the  Indian  sentinels  reported  the  approach 
of  a  strange  object.  The  village  was  alarmed,  for  the 
Crows  had  never  seen  ox,  horse,  or  wagon ;  but  the  excite- 
ment was  allayed  when  it  was  found  that  the  strange  outfit 
was  the  property  of  the  half-breed  trader. 

89 


90  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.- 

He  had  brought  with  him  his  wife,  a  white  woman; 
she,  too,  was  an  object  of  much  curiosity  to  the  Indians. 

The  trader  built  a  lodge  of  wood  and  stones,  and 
exposed  all  his  goods  for  sale.  He  had  brought  beads, 
ribbons,  and  brass  rings  as  gifts  for  all  the  tribe. 

One  day  the  big  chief  visited  the  store ;  the  trader  led 
him  into  a  back  room,  swore  him  to  secrecy,  and  gave  him 
a  drink  of  black  water.  The  chief  felt  strangely  happy. 
Usually  he  was  very  dignified  and  stately;  but  under  the 
influence  of  the  strange  liquid  he  sang  and  danced  on  the 
streets,  and  finally  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he 
could  not  be  wakened.  This  performance  was  repeated 
day  after  day,  until  the  Indians  called  a  council  of  war. 
They  said  the  trader  had  bewitched  their  chief,  and  it  must 
be  stopped,  or  they  would  kill  the  intruder.  A  warrior 
was  sent  to  convey  this  intelligence  to  the  trader;  he 
laughed,  took  the  warrior  into  the  back  room,  swore  him 
to  secrecy,  and  gave  him  a  drink  of  the  black  water.  The 
young  Indian,  in  his  turn,  went  upon  the  street,  and 
laughed  and  sang  and  danced,  just  as  the  chief  had  done. 
Surprised,  his  companions  gathered  around  him  and  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter.  "Oh,  go  to  the  trader  and  get 
some  of  the  black  water!"  said  he. 

They  asked  for  the  strange  beverage.  The  trader 
denied  having  any,  and  gave  them  a  drink  of  ordinary 
water,  which  had  no  effect.  When  the  young  warrior 
awoke,  they  again  questioned  him.  He  said  he  must  have 
been  sick,  and  have  spoken  loosely. 

After  this  the  chief  and  warrior  were  both  drunk  every 
day,  and  all  the  tribe  were  sorely  perplexed.  Another 
council  of  war  was  held,  and  a  young  chief  arose,  saying 
that  he  had  made  a  hole  in  the  wall  of  the  trader's  house, 
and  had  watched ;  and  it  was  true  the  trader  gave  their 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  91 

friends  black  water.  The  half-breed  and  the  two  unhappy 
Indians  were  brought  before  the  council,  and  the  young 
chief  repeated  his  accusation,  saying  that  if  it  were  not 
true,  they  might  fight  .him.  The  second  victim  of  the 
black  water  yet  denied  the  story,  and  said  the  young  chief 
lied ;  but  the  trader  had  maneuvered  into  the  position  he 
desired,  and  he  confessed.  They  bade  him  bring  the 
water,  that  they  might  taste  it ;  but  before  he  departed  the 
young  chief  challenged  to  combat  the  warrior  that  had  said 
he  lied.  This  warrior  was  the  best  spearsman  of  the  tribe, 
and  all  expected  the  death  of  the  young  chief;  but  the 
black  water  had  palsied  the  warrior's  arm,  his  trembling 
hand  could  not  fling  true,  he  was  pierced  to  the  heart  at 
the  first  thrust.  The  tribe  then  repaired  to  the  trader's 
lodge,  and  he  gave  them  all  a  drink  of  the  black  water. 
They  danced  and  sang,  and  then  lay  upon  the  ground  and 
slept. 

After  two  or  three  days  the  half-breed  declined  to  pro- 
vide black  water  free;  if  the  warriors  wanted  it,  they  must 
pay  for  it.  At  first  he  gave  them  a  "sleep,"  as  they 
called  it,  for  one  robe  or  skin,  but  as  the  stock  of  black 
water  diminished,  two,  then  three,  then  many  robes  were 
demanded.  At  last  he  said  he  had  none  left  except  what 
he  himself  desired.  The  Indians  offered  their  ponies,  until 
the  trader  had  all  the  robes  and  all  the  ponies  of  the  tribe. 

Now,  he  said,  he  would  go  back  to  the  land  of  the  pale- 
face and  procure  more  of  the  black  water.  Some  of  the 
warriors  were  willing  he  should  do  this;  others  asserted 
that  he  had  plenty  of  black  water  left,  and  was  going  to 
trade  with  their  enemy,  the  Sioux.  The  devil  had  awak- 
ened in  the  tribe.  The  trader's  stores  and  packs  were 
searched,  but  no  black  water  was  found.  'Twas  hidden, 
then,  said  the  Indians.  The  trader  must  produce  it,  or 


92          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

they  would  kill  him.  Of  course  he  could  not  do  this.  He 
had  sowed  the  wind;  he  reaped  the  whirlwind.  He  was 
scalped  before  the  eyes  of  his  horrified  wife,  and  his  body 
mutilated  and  mangled.  The  poor  woman  attempted  to 
escape ;  a  warrior  struck  her  with  his  tomahawk,  and  she 
fell  as  if  dead.  The  Indians  fired  the  lodge.  As  they  did 
so,  a  Crow  squaw  saw  that  the  white  woman  was  not  dead. 
She  took  the  wounded  creature  to  her  own  lodge,  bound 
up  her  wounds,  and  nursed  her  back  to  strength.  But  the 
unfortunate  woman's  brain  was  crazed,  and  could  not  bear 
the  sight  of  a  warrior. 

As  soon  as  she  could  get  around  she  ran  away.  The 
squaws  went  out  to  look  for  her,  and  found  her  crooning 
on  the  banks  of  the  Big  Beard.  She  would  talk  with  the 
squaws,  but  if  a  warrior  appeared,  she  hid  herself  till  he 
was  gone.  The  squaws  took  her  food,  and  she  lived  in  a 
covert  on  the  bank  of  the  stream  for  many  months.  One 
day  a  warrior,  out  hunting,  chanced  upon  her.  Thinking 
she  was  lost,  he  sought  to  catch  her,  to  take  her  back  to 
the  village,  as  all  Indian  tribes  have  a  veneration  for  the 
insane;  but  she  fled  into  the  hills,  and  was  never  seen 
afterward.  The  stream  became  known  as  the  "  Place  of  the 
Crazy  Woman,"  or  Crazy  Woman's  Fork,  and  has 
retained  the  name  to  this  day. 

At  this  point,  to  return  to  my  narrative,  the  signs  indi- 
cated that  reinforcements  had  reached  the  orignal  body  of 
Indians.  The  plainsmen  were  now  in  the  heart  of  the 
Indian  country,  the  utmost  caution  was  required,  and  a 
sharp  lookout  was  maintained.  When  Clear  Creek,  another 
tributary  of  the  Powder,  was  come  up  with,  an  Indian 
camp,  some  three  miles  distant,  was  discovered  on  the 
farther  bank. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          93 

A  council  of  war  was  held.  Never  before  had  the  white 
man  followed  the  red  so  far  into  his  domain,  and  'twas 
plain  the  Indian  was  off  his  guard ;  not  a  scout  was  posted. 

At  Wild  Bill's  suggestion,  the  attack  waited  upon 
nightfall.  Veiled  by  darkness,  the  company  was  to  sur- 
prise the  Indian  camp  and  stampede  the  horses. 

The  plan  was  carried  out  without  a  hitch.  The  Indians 
outnumbered  the  white  men  three  to  one,  but  when  the 
latter  rushed  cyclonically  through  the  camp,  no  effort  was 
made  to  repel  them,  and  by  the  time  the  Indians  had 
recovered  from  their  surprise  the  plainsmen  had  driven  off 
all  the  horses — those  belonging  to  the  reds  as  well  as  those 
that  had  been  stolen.  A  few  shots  were  fired,  but  the 
whites  rode  scathless  away,  and  unpursued. 

The  line  of  march  was  now  taken  up  for  Sweetwater 
Bridge,  and  here,  four  days  later,  the  plainsmen  brought 
up,  with  their  own  horses  and  about  a  hundred  Indian 
ponies. 

This  successful  sally  repressed  the  hostilities  for  a  space. 
The  recovered  horses  were  put  back  on  the  road,  and  the 
stage-drivers  and  express-riders  resumed  their  interrupted 
activity. 

*  'Billy,"  said  Mr.  Slade,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy 
to  Will — "  Billy,  this  is  a  hard  life,  and  you're  too  young 
to  stand  it.  You've  done  good  service,  and  in  considera- 
tion of  it  I'll  make  you  a  supernumerary.  You'll  have  to 
ride  only  when  it's  absolutely  necessary." 

There  followed  for  Will  a  period  of  dolce  far  niente; 
days  when  he  might  lie  on  his  back  and  watch  the  clouds 
drift  across  the  sky;  when  he  might  have  an  eye  to  the 
beauty  of  the  woodland  and  the  sweep  of  the  plain,  with- 
out the  nervous  strain  of  studying  every  tree  and  knoll 
that  might  conceal  a  lurking  redskin.  Winter  closed  in, 


94          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

and  with  it  came  the  memories  of  the  trapping  season  of 
1 860-6 1,  when  he  had  laid  low  his  first  and  last  bear.  But 
there  were  other  bears  to  be  killed — the  mountains  were  full 
of  them;  and  one  bracing  morning  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  toward  the  hills  that  lay  down  the  Horseshoe  Valley. 
Antelope  and  deer  fed  in  the  valley,  the  sage-hen  and  the 
jack-rabbit  started  up  under  his  horse's  hoofs,  but  such 
small  game  went  by  unnoticed. 

Two  o'clock  passed  without  a  sign  of  bear,  save  some 
tracks  in  the  snow.  The  wintry  air  had  put  a  keen  edge 
on  Will's  appetite,  and  hitching  his  tired  horse,  he  shot 
one  of  the  lately  scorned  sage-hens,  and  broiled  it  over  a 
fire  that  invited  a  longer  stay  than  an  industrious  bear- 
hunter  could  afford.  But  nightfall  found  him  and  his 
quarry  still  many  miles  asunder,  and  as  he  did  not  relish 
the  prospect  of  a  chaffing  from  the  men  at  the  station,  he 
cast  about  for  a  camping-place,  finding  one  in  an  open  spot 
on  the  bank  of  a  little  stream.  Two  more  sage-hens  were 
added  to  the  larder,  and  he  was  preparing  to  kindle  a  fire 
when  the  whinnying  of  a  horse  caught  his  ear.  He  ran  to 
his  own  horse  to  check  the  certain  response,  resaddled  him, 
and  disposed  everything  for  flight,  should  it  be  necessary. 
Then,  taking  his  rifle,  he  put  forth  on  a  reconnoissance. 

He  shortly  came  upon  a  bunch  of  horses,  a  dozen  or 
more,  around  a  crook  of  the  stream.  Above  them,  on  the 
farther  bank,  shone  a  light.  Drawing  nearer,  he  saw  that 
it  came  from  a  dugout,  and  he  heard  his  own  language 
spoken.  Reassured,  he  walked  boldly  up  to  the  door  and 
rapped. 

Silence — followed  by  a  hurried  whispering,  and  the 
demand : 

"Who's  there?" 

"Friend  and  white  man,"  answered  Will. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          95 

The  door  opened  reluctantly,  and  an  ugly-looking  cus- 
tomer bade  him  enter.  The  invitation  was  not  responded 
to  with  alacrity,  for  eight  such  villainous-looking  faces  as 
the  dugout  held  it  would  have  been  hard  to  match.  Too 
late  to  retreat,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  a  determined 
front,  and  let  wit  point  the  way  of  escape.  Two  of  the 
men  Will  recognized  as  discharged  teamsters  from  Lew 
Simpson's  train,  and  from  his  knowledge  of  their  long- 
standing weakness  he  assumed,  correctly,  that  he  had 
thrust  his  head  into  a  den  of  horsethieves. 

"Who's  with  you?"  was  the  first  query;  and  this 
answered,  with  sundry  other  information  esteemed  essen- 
tial, "Where's  your  horse?"  demanded  the  most  striking 
portrait  in  the  rogues'  gallery. 

"Down  by  the  creek,"  said  Will. 

"All  right,  sonny;  we'll  go  down  and  get  him,"  was 
the  obliging  rejoinder. 

"Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Will.  "I'll  fetch 
him  and  put  up  here  over  night,  with  your  permission. 
I'll  leave  my  gun  here  till  I  get  back." 

"That's  right;  leave  your  gun,  you  won't  need  it," 
said  the  leader  of  the  gang,  with  a  grin  that  was  as  near 
amiability  as  his  rough,  stern  calling  permitted  him.  "Jim 
and  I  will  go  down  with  you  after  the  horse." 

This  offer  compelled  an  acquiescence,  Will  consoling 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  it  is  easier  to  escape  from 
two  men  than  from  eight. 

When  the  horse  was  reached,  one  of  the  outlaws  oblig- 
ingly volunteered  to  lead  it. 

"All  right,"  said  Will,  carelessly.  "I  shot  a  couple  of 
sage-hens  here;  I'll  take  them  along.  Lead  away!" 

He  followed  with  the  birds,  the  second  horsethief 
bringing  up  the  rear.  As  the  dugout  was  neared  he  let 


96          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

fall  one  of  the  hens,  and  asked  the  chap  following  to  pick 
it  up,  and  as  the  obliging  rear  guard  stopped,  Will  knocked 
him  senseless  with  the  butt  of  his  revolver.  The  man 
ahead  heard  the  blow,  and  turned,  with  his  hand  on  his 
gun,  but  Will  dropped  him  with  a  shot,  leaped  on  his 
horse,  and  dashed  off. 

The  sextet  in  the  dugout  sprang  to  arms,  and  came 
running  down  the  bank,  and  likely  getting  the  particulars 
of  the  escape  from  the  ruffian  by  the  sage-hen,  who  was 
probably  only  stunned  for  the  moment,  they  buckled 
warmly  to  the  chase.  The  mountain-side  was  steep  and 
rough,  and  men  on  foot  were  better  than  on  horseback; 
accordingly  Will  dismounted,  and  clapping  his  pony 
soundly  on  the  flank,  sent  him  clattering  on  down  the 
declivity,  and  himself  stepped  aside  behind  a  large  pine. 
The  pursuing  party  rushed  past  him,  and  when  they  were 
safely  gone,  he  climbed  back  over  the  mountain,  and  made 
his  way  as  best  he  could  to  the  Horseshoe.  It  was  a 
twenty-five  mile  plod,  and  he  reached  the  station  early  in 
the  morning,  weary  and  footsore. 

He  woke  the  plainsmen,  and  related  his  adventure, 
and  Mr.  Slade  at  once  organized  a  party  to  hunt  out  the 
bandits  of  the  dugout.  Twenty  well-armed  stock-tenders, 
stage-drivers,  and  ranchmen  rode  away  at  sunrise,  and, 
notwithstanding  his  fatigue,  Will  accompanied  them  as 
guide. 

But  the  ill-favored  birds  had  flown ;  the  dugout  was 
deserted. 

Will  soon  tired  of  this  nondescript  service,  and  gladly 
accepted  a  position  as  assistant  wagon-master  under  Wild 
Bill,  who  had  taken  a  contract  to  fetch  a  load  of  govern- 
ment freight  from  Rolla,  Missouri. 

He  returned  with  a  wagon-train  to  Springfield,  in  that 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          97 

state,  and  thence  came  home  on  a  visit.  It  was  a  brief 
one,  however,  for  the  air  was  too  full  of  war  for  him  to 
endure  inaction.  Contented  only  when  at  work,  he  con- 
tinued to  help  on  government  freight  contracts,  until  he 
received  word  that  mother  was  dangerously  ill.  Then  he 
resigned  his  position  and  hastened  home. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  MOTHER'S  LAST  ILLNESS. 

IT  was  now  the  autumn  of  1863,  and  Will  was  a  well- 
grown  young  man,  tall,  strong,  and  athletic,  though  not 
yet  quite  eighteen  years  old.  Our  oldest  sister,  Julia,  had 
been  married,  the  spring  preceding,  to  Mr.  J.  A.  Goodman. 

Mother  had  been  growing  weaker  from  day  to  day; 
being  with  her  constantly,  we  had  not  remarked  the  change 
for  the  worse;  but  Will  was  much  shocked  by  the  trans- 
formation which  a  few  months  had  wrought.  Only  an 
indomitable  will  power  had  enabled  her  to  overcome  the 
infirmities  of  the  body,  and  now  it  seemed  to  us  as  if  her 
flesh  had  been  refined  away,  leaving  only  the  sweet  and 
beautiful  spirit. 

Will  reached  home  none  too  soon,  for  only  three  weeks 
after  his  return  the  doctor  told  mother  that  only  a  few 
hours  were  left  to  her,  and  if  she  had  any  last  messages,  it 
were  best  that  she  communicate  them  at  once.  That  even- 
ing the  children  were  called  in,  one  by  one,  to  receive  her 
blessing  and  farewell.  Mother  was  an  earnest  Christian 
character,  but  at  that  time  I  alone  of  all  the  children 
appeared  religiously  disposed.  Young  as  I  .was,  the 
solemnity  of  the  hour  when  she  charged  me  with  the  spirit- 
ual welfare  of  the  family  has  remained  with  me  through  all 
the  years  that  have  gone.  Calling  me  to  her  side,  she 
sought  to  impress  upon  my  childish  mind,  not  the  sorrow 
of  death,  but  the  glory  of  the  resurrection.  Then,  as  if 

98 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          99 

she  were  setting  forth  upon  a  pleasant  journey,  she  bade 
me  good  by,  and  I  kissed  her  for  the  last  time  in  life. 
When  next  I  saw  her  face  it  was  cold  and  quiet.  The 
beautiful  soul  had  forsaken  its  dwelling-place  of  clay,  and 
passed  on  through  the  Invisible,  to  wait,  a  glorified  spirit, 
on  the  farther  shore  for  the  coming  of  the  loved  ones 
whose  life-story  was  as  yet  unfinished. 

Julia  and  Will  remained  with  her  throughout  the  night. 
Just  before  death  there  came  to  her  a  brief  season  of  long- 
lost  animation,  the  last  flicker  of  the  torch  before  darkness. 
She  talked  to  them  almost  continuously  until  the  dawn. 
Into  their  hands  was  given  the  task  of  educating  the  others 
of  the  family,  and  on  their  hearts  and  consciences  the 
charge  was  graven.  Charlie,  who  was  born  during  the 
early  Kansas  troubles,  had  ever  been  a  delicate  child,  and 
he  lay  an  especial  burden  on  her  mind. 

"If,"  she  said,  "it  be  possible  for  the  dead  to  call  the 
living,  I  shall  call  Charlie  to  me." 

Within  the  space  of  a  year,  Charlie,  too,  was  gone;  and 
who  shall  say  that  the  yearning  of  a  mother's  heart  for  her 
child  was  not  stronger  than  the  influences  of  the  material 
world? 

Upon  Will  mother  sought  to  impress  the  responsibili- 
ties of  his  destiny.  She  reminded  him  of  the  prediction 
of  the  fortune-teller,  that  ''his  name  would  be  known  the 
world  over." 

"But,"  said  she,  "only  the  names  of  them  that  are 
upright,  brave,  temperate,  and  true  can  be  honorably 
known.  Remember  always  that  'he  that  overcometh  his 
own  soul  is  greater  than  he  who  taketh  a  city.'  Already 
you  have  shown  great  abilities,  but  remember  that  they 
carry  with  them  grave  responsibilities.  You  have  been  a 
good  son  to  me.  In  the  hour  of  need  you  have  always 


ioo          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

aided  me.  so  that  I  can  die  now  feeling  that  my  children 
are  not  unprovided  for.  I  have  not  wished  you  to  enlist 
in  the  war,  partly  because  I  knew  you  were  too  young, 
partly  because  my  life  was  drawing  near  its  close.  But 
now  you  are  nearly  eighteen,  and  if  when  I  am  gone  your 
country  needs  you  in  the  strife  of  which  we  in  Kansas  know 
the  bitterness,  I  bid  you  go  as  soldier  in  behalf  of  the  cause 
for  which  your  father  gave  his  life." 

She  talked  until  sleep  followed  exhaustion.  When  she 
awoke  she  tried  to  raise  herself  in  bed.  Will  sprang  to  aid 
her,  and  with  the  upward  look  of  one  that  sees  ineffable 
things,  she  passed  away,  resting  in  his  arms. 

Oh,  the  glory  and  the  gladness 

Of  a  life  without  a  fear  ; 
Of  a  death  like  nature  fading 

In  the  autumn  of  the  year  ; 
Of  a  sweet  and  dreamless  slumber, 

In  a  faith  triumphant  borne, 
Till  the  bells  of  Easter  wake  her 

On  the  resurrection  morn  ! 

Ah,  for  such  a  blessed  falling 

Into  quiet  sleep  at  last, 
When  the  ripening  grain  is  garnered, 

And  the  toil  and  trial  past ; 
When  the  red  and  gold  of  sunset 

Slowly  changes  into  gray  ; 
Ah,  for  such  a  quiet  passing, 

Through  the  night  into  the  day! 

The  morning  of  the  22d  day  of  November,  1863,  began 
the  saddest  day  of  our  lives.  We  rode  in  a  rough  lumber 
wagon  to  Pilot  Knob  Cemetery,  a  long,  cold,  hard  ride; 
but  we  wished  our  parents  to  be  united  in  death  as  they 
had  been  in  life,  so  buried  mother  in  a  grave  next  to 
father's. 

The  road  leading  from  the  cemetery  forked  a  short  dis- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS,/  i  "-  :  V 


tance  outside  of  Leavenworth,  one  braaciyrarini^g'tq 
city,  the  other  winding  homeward  along  Government  Hill. 
When  we  were  returning,  and  reached  this  fork,  Will 
jumped  out  of  the  wagon. 

"I  can't  go  home  when  I  know  mother  is  no  longer 
there,"  said  he.  "I  am  going  to  Leavenworth  to  see 
Eugene  Hathaway.  I  shall  stay  with  him  to-night." 

We  pitied  Will — he  and  mother  had  been  so  much  to 
each  other — and  raised  no  objection,  as  we  should  have 
done  had  we  known  the  real  purpose  of  his  visit. 

The  next  morning,  therefore,  we  were  much  surprised 
to  see  him  and  Eugene  ride  into  the  yard,  both  clothed  in 
the  blue  uniforms  of  United  States  soldiers.  Overwhelmed 
with  grief  over  mother's  death,  it  seemed  more  than  we 
could  bear  to  see  our  big  brother  ride  off  to  war.  We 
threatened  to  inform  the  recruiting  officers  that  he  was  not 
yet  eighteen ;  but  he  was  too  thoroughly  in  earnest  to  be 
moved  by  our  objections.  The  regiment  in  which  he  had 
enlisted  was  already  ordered  to  the  front,  and  he  had  come 
home  to  say  good  by.  He  then  rode  away  to  the  hard- 
ships, dangers,  and  privations  of  a  soldier's  life.  The  joy 
of  action  balanced  the  account  for  him,  while  we  were 
obliged  to  accept  the  usual  lot  of  girlhood  and  woman- 
hood— the  weary,  anxious  waiting,  when  the  heart  is  torn 
with  uncertainty  and  suspense  over  the  fate  of  the  loved 
ones  who  bear  the  brunt  and  burden  of  the  day. 

The  order  sending  Will's  regiment  to  the  front  was 
countermanded,  and  he  remained  for  a  time  in  Fort  Leav- 
enworth. His  Western  experiences  were  well  known 
there,  and  probably  for  this  reason  he  was  selected  as  a 
bearer  of  military  dispatches  to  Fort  Larned.  Some  of  our 
old  pro-slavery  enemies,  who  were  upon  the  point  of  join- 
ing the  Confederate  army,  learned  of  Will's  mission,  which 


J02         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

they  .'thought  afforded  them  an  excellent  chance  to  gratify 
their  ancient  grudge  against  the  father  by  murdering  the 
son.  The  killing  could  be  justified  on  the  plea  of  service 
rendered  to  their  cause.  Accordingly  a  plan  was  made  to 
waylay  Will  and  capture  his  dispatches  at  a  creek  he  was 
obliged  to  ford. 

He  received  warning  of  this  plot.  On  such  a  mission 
the  utmost  vigilance  was  demanded  at  all  times,  and  with 
an  ambuscade  ahead  of  him,  he  was  alertness  itself.  His 
knowledge  of  Indian  warfare  stood  him  in  good  stead  now. 
Not  a  tree,  rock,  or  hillock  escaped  his  keen  glance.  When 
he  neared  the  creek  at  which  the  attack  was  expected,  he 
left  the  road,  and  attempted  to  ford  the  stream  four  or  five 
hundred  yards  above  the  common  crossing,  but  found  it  so 
swollen  by  recent  rains  that  he  was  unable  to  cross;  so  he 
cautiously  picked  his  way  back  to  the  trail. 

The  assassins'  camp  was  two  or  three  hundred  feet  away 
from  the  creek.  Darkness  was  coming  on,  and  he  took 
advantage  of  the  shelter  afforded  by  the  bank,  screening 
himself  behind  every  clump  of  bushes.  His  enemies  would 
look  for  his  approach  from  the  other  direction,  and  he  hoped 
to  give  them  the  slip  and  pass  by  unseen. 

When  he  reached  the  point  where  he  could  see  the  little 
cabin  where  the  men  were  probably  hiding,  he  ran  upon  a 
thicket  in  which  five  saddle-horses  were  concealed. 

"Five  to  one!  I  don't  stand  much  show  if  they  see 
me,"  he  decided  as  he  rode  quietly  and  slowly  along,  his 
carbine  in  his  hand  ready  for  use. 

"There  he  goes,  boys!  he's  at  the  ford!"  came  a  sudden 
shout  from  the  camp,  followed  by  the  crack  of  a  rifle. 
Two  or  three  more  shots  rang  out,  and  from  the  bound  his 
horse  gave  Will  knew  one  bullet  had  reached  a  mark.  He 
rode  into  the  water,  then  turned  in  his  saddle  and  aimed 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         103 

• 

like  a  flash  at  a  man  within  range.  The  fellow  staggered 
and  fell,  and  Will  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  turning  again  only 
when  the  stream  was  crossed.  The  men  were  running 
toward  the  ford,  firing  as  they  came,  and  getting  a  warm 
return  fire.  As  Will  was  already  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  in  advance,  pursuers  on  foot  were  not  to  be  feared, 
and  he  knew  that  before  they  could  reach  and  mount  their 
horses  he  would  be  beyond  danger.  Much  depended  on 
his  horse.  Would  the  gallant  beast,  wounded  as  he  was, 
be  able  to  long  maintain  the  fierce  pace  he  had  set?  Mile 
upon  mile  was  put  behind  before  the  stricken  creature  fell. 
Will  shouldered  the  saddle  and  bridle  and  continued  on 
foot.  He  soon  reached  a  ranch  where  a  fresh  mount  might 
be  procured,  and  was  shortly  at  Fort  Larned. 

After  a  few  hours'  breathing-spell,  he  left  for  Fort 
Leavenworth  with  return  dispatches.  As  he  drew  near  the 
ford,  he  resumed  his  sharp  lookout,  though  scarcely  expect- 
ing trouble.  The  planners  of  the  ambuscade  had  been  so 
certain  that  five  men  could  easily  make  away  with  one  boy 
that  there  had  been  no  effort  at  disguise,  and  Will  had 
recognized  several  of  them.  He,  for  his  part,  felt  certain 
that  they  would  get  out  of  that  part  of  the  country  with 
all  dispatch;  but  he  employed  none  the  less  caution  in 
crossing  the  creek,  and  his  carbine  was  ready  for  business 
as  he  approached  the  camp. 

The  fall  of  his  horse's  hoofs  evoked  a  faint  call  from 
one  of  the  buildings.  It  was  not  repeated ;  instead  there 
issued  hollow  moans. 

It  might  be  a  trap;  again,  a  fellow-creature  might  be  at 
death's  door.  Will  rode  a  bit  nearer  the  cabin  entrance. 

"Who's  there?"  he  called. 

"Come  in,  for  the  love  of  God!  I  am  dying  here 
alone!"  was  the  reply. 


104         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Who  are  you?" 

1  'Ed  Norcross." 

Will  jumped  from  his  horse.  This  was  the  man  at 
whom  he  had  fired.  He  entered  the  cabin. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"I  was  wounded  by  a  bullet,"  moaned  Norcross,  "and 
my  comrades  deserted  me." 

Will  was  now  within  range  of  the  poor  fellow  lying  on 
the  floor. 

"Will  Cody!"  he  cried. 

Will  dropped  on  his  knee  beside  the  dying  man,  chok- 
ing with  the  emotion  that  the  memory  of  long  years  of 
friendship  had  raised. 

'  *  My  poor  Ed ! "  he  murmured.  ' '  And  it  was  my  bullet 
that  struck  you." 

"It  was  in  defense  of  your  own  life,  Will,"  said  Nor- 
cross. "God  knows,  I  don't  blame  you.  Don't  think  too 
hard  of  me.  I  did  everything  I  could  to  save  you.  It 
was  I  who  sent  you  warning.  I  hoped  you  might  find 
some  other  trail." 

"I  didn't  shoot  with  the  others,"  continued  Norcross, 
after  a  short  silence.  "They  deserted  me.  They  said 
they  would  send  help  back,  but  they  haven't." 

Will  filled  the  empty  canteen  lying  on  the  floor,  and 
rearranged  the  blanket  that  served  as  a  pillow;  then  he 
offered  to  dress  the  neglected  wound.  But  the  gray  of 
death  was  already  upon  the  face  of  Norcross. 

"Never  mind,  Will,"  he  whispered;  "it's  not  worth 
while.  Just  stay  with  me  till  I  die." 

It  was  not  a  long  vigil.  Will  sat  beside  his  old  friend, 
moistening  his  pallid  lips  with  water.  In  a  very  short  time 
the  end  came.  Will  disposed  the  stiffening  limbs,  crossing 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         105 

the  hands  over  the  heart,  and  with  a  last  backward  look 
went  out  of  the  cabin. 

It  was  his  first  experience  in  the  bitterness  and  savagery 
of  war,  and  he  set  a  grave  and  downcast  face  against  the 
remainder  of  his  journey. 

As  he  neared  Leavenworth  he  met  the  friend  who  had 
conveyed  the  dead  man's  warning  message,  and  to  him  he 
committed  the  task  of  bringing  home  the  body.  His 
heaviness  of  spirit  was  scarcely  mitigated  by  the  congratu- 
lations of  the  commander  of  Fort  Leavenworth  upon  his 
pluck  and  resources,  which  had  saved  both  his  life  and  the 
dispatches. 

There  followed  another  period  of  inaction,  always  irri- 
tating to  a  lad  of  Will's  restless  temperament.  Meantime, 
we  at  home  were  having  our  own  experiences. 

We  were  rejoiced  in  great  measure  when  sister  Julia 
decided  that  we  had  learned  as  much  as  might  be  hoped 
for  in  the  country  school,  and  must  thereafter  attend  the 
winter  and  spring  terms  of  the  school  at  Leavenworth. 
The  dresses  she  cut  for  us,  however,  still  followed  the 
country  fashion,  which  has  regard  rather  to  wear  than  to 
appearance,  and  we  had  not  been  a  day  in  the  city  school 
before  we  discovered  that  our  apparel  had  stamped  "pro- 
vincial" upon  us  in  plain,  large  characters.  In  addition  to 
this,  our  brother-in-law,  in  his  endeavor  to  administer  the 
estate  economically,  bought  each  of  us  a  pair  of  coarse 
calfskin  shoes.  To  these  we  were  quite  unused,  mother 
having  accustomed  us  to  serviceable  but  pretty  ones.  The 
author  of  our  "extreme"  mortification,  totally  ignorant  of 
the  shy  and  sensitive  nature  of  girls,  only  laughed  at  our 
protests,  and  in  justice  to  him  it  may  be  said  that  he  really 
had  no  conception  of  the  torture  he  inflicted  upon  us. 


io6         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

We  turned  to  Will.  In  every  emergency  he  was  our 
first  thought,  and  here  was  an  emergency  that  taxed  his 
powers  to  an  extent  we  did  not  dream  of.  He  made  answer 
to  our  letter  that  he  was  no  longer  an  opulent  trainman, 
but  drew  only  the  slender  income  of  a  soldier,  and  even 
that  pittance  was  in  arrears.  Disappointment  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  remorse.  Had  we  reflected  how  keenly  he 
must  feel  his  inability  to  help  us,  we  would  not  have  sent 
him  the  letter,  which,  at  worst,  contained  only  a  sly  sug- 
gestion of  a  fine  opportunity  to  relieve  sisterly  distress. 
All  his  life  he  had  responded  to  our  every  demand ;  now 
allegiance  was  due  his  country  first.  But,  as  was  always 
the  way  with  him,  he  made  the  best  of  a  bad  matter,  and 
we  were  much  comforted  by  the  receipt  of  the  following 
letter: 

"Mv  DEAR  SISTERS: 

"1  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  help  you  and  furnish  you  with  such  clothes 
as  you  wish.  At  this  writing  I  am  so  short  of  funds  myself  that  if  an 
entire  Mississippi  steamer  could  be  bought  for  ten  cents  I  couldn't  pur- 
chase the  smokestack.  I  will  soon  draw  my  pay,  and  I  will  send  it,  every 
cent,  to  you.  So  brave  it  out,  girls,  a  little  longer.  In  the  mean  time  I 
will  write  to  Al.  Lovingly, 

WILL/' 

We  were  comforted,  yes;  but  my  last  hope  was  gone, 
and  I  grew  desperate.  I  had  never  worn  the  obnoxious 
shoes  purchased  by  my  guardian,  and  I  proceeded  to  dis- 
pose of  them  forever.  I  struck  what  I  regarded  as  a  fa- 
mous bargain  with  an  accommodating  Hebrew,  and  came 
into  possession  of  a  pair  of  shiny  morocco  shoes,  worth 
perhaps  a  third  of  what  mine  had  cost.  One  would  say 
they  were  designed  for  shoes,  and  they  certainly  looked 
like  shoes,  but  as  certainly  they  were  not  wearable.  Still 
they  were  of  service,  for  the  transaction  convinced  my 
guardian  that  the  truest  economy  did  not  lie  in  the  pur- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         107 

chasing  of  calfskin  shoes  for  at  least  one  of  his  charges. 
A  little  later  he  received  a  letter  from  Will,  presenting  our 
grievances  and  advocating  our  cause.  Will  also  sent  us 
the  whole  of  his  next  month's  pay  as  soon  as  he  drew  it. 

In  February,  1864,  Sherman  began  his  march  through 
Mississippi.  The  Seventh  Kansas  regiment,  known  as 
"  Jennison's  Jayhawkers,"  was  reorganized  at  Fort  Leaven- 
worth  as  veterans,  and  sent  to  Memphis,  Tenn.,  to  join 
General  A.  J.  Smith's  command,  which  was  to  operate 
against  General  Forrest  and  cover  the  retreat  of  General 
Sturgis,  who  had  been  so  badly  whipped  by  Forrest  at 
Cross- Roads.  Will  was  exceedingly  desirous  of  engaging 
in  a  great  battle,  and  through  some  officers  with  whom  he 
was  acquainted  preferred  a  petition  to  be  transferred  to  this 
regiment.  The  request  was  granted,  and  his  delight  knew 
no  bounds.  He  wrote  to  us  that  his  great  desire  was  about 
to  be  gratified,  that  he  should  soon  know  what  a  real  battle 
was  like. 

He  was  well  versed  in  Indian  warfare  *  now  he  was 
ambitious  to  learn,  from  experience,  the  superiority  of 
civilized  strife — rather,  I  should  say,  of  strife  between  civ- 
ilized people. 

General  Smith  had  acquainted  himself  with  the  record 
made  by  the  young  scout  of  the  plains,  and  shortly  after 
reaching  Memphis  he  ordered  Will  to  report  to  headquar- 
ters for  special  service. 

"I  am  anxious,"  said  the  general,  "to  gain  reliable 
information  concerning  the  enemy's  movements  and  posi- 
tion. This  can  only  be  done  by  entering  the  Confederate 
camp.  You  possess  the  needed  qualities — nerve,  coolness, 
resource — and  I  believe  you  could  do  it." 

"You  mean,"  answered  Will,  quietly,  "that  you  wish 
me  to  go  as  a  spy  into  the  rebel  camp." 


io8         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Exactly.  But  you  must  understand  the  risk  you  run. 
If  you  are  captured,  you  will  be  hanged." 

"I  am  ready  to  take  the  chances,  sir,"  said  Will; 
"ready  to  go  at  once,  if  you  wish." 

General  Smith's  stern  face  softened  into  a  smile  at  the 
prompt  response. 

"I  am  sure,  Cody,"  said  he,  kindly,  "that  if  any  one 
can  go  through  safely,  you  will.  Dodging  Indians  on  the 
plains  was  good  training  for  the  work  in  hand,  which 
demands  quick  intelligence  and  ceaseless  vigilance.  I  never 
require  such  service  of  any  one,  but  since  you  volunteer  to 
go,  take  these  maps  of  the  country  to  your  quarters  and 
study  them  carefully.  Return  this  evening  for  full  instruc- 
tions." 

During  the  few  days  his  regiment  had  been  in  camp, 
Will  had  been  on  one  or  two  scouting  expeditions,  and  was 
somewhat  familiar  with  the  immediate  environments  of  the 
Union  forces.  The  maps  were  unusually  accurate,  showing 
every  lake,  river,  creek,  and  highway,  and  even  the 
by-paths  from  plantation  to  plantation. 

Only  the  day  before,  while  on  a  reconnoissance,  Will 
had  captured  a  Confederate  soldier,  who  proved  to  be  an 
old  acquaintance  named  Nat  Golden.  Will  had  served 
with  Nat  on  one  of  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell's  freight 
trains,  and  at  one  time  had  saved  the  young  man's  life,  and 
thereby  earned  his  enduring  friendship.  Nat  was  born  in 
the  East,  became  infected  with  Western  fever,  and  ran 
away  from  home  in  order  to  become  a  plainsman. 

"Well,  this  is  too  bad,"  said  Will,  when  he  recognized 
his  old  friend.  "I  would  rather  have  captured  a  whole 
regiment  than  you.  I  don't  like  to  take  you  in  as  a  pris- 
oner. What  did  you  enlist  on  the  wrong  side  for,  any- 
way ?' ' 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          109 

"The  fortunes  of  war,  Billy,  my  boy,"  laughed  Nat. 
"  Friend  shall  be  turned  against  friend,  and  brother  against 
brother,  you  know.  You  wouldn't  have  had  me  for  a  pris- 
oner, either,  if  my  rifle  hadn't  snapped;  but  I'm  glad 
it  did,  for  I  shouldn't  want  to  be  the  one  that  shot 
you." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  see  you  strung  up,"  said  Will; 
"so  hand  me  over  those  papers  you  have,  and  I  will  turn 
you  in  as  an  ordinary  prisoner." 

Nat's  face  paled  as  he  asked,  "Do  you  think  I'm  a 
spy,  Billy?" 

"I  know  it." 

"Well,"  was  the  reply,  "I've  risked  my  life  to  obtain 
these  papers,  but  I  suppose  they  will  be  taken  from  me 
anyway;  so  I  might  as  well  give  them  up  now,  and  save 
my  neck." 

Examination  showed  them  to  be  accurate  maps  of  the 
location  and  position  of  the  Union  army;  and  besides  the 
maps,  there  were  papers  containing  much  valuable  informa- 
tion concerning  the  number  of  soldiers  and  officers  and  their 
intended  movements.  Will  had  not  destroyed  these 
papers,  and  he  now  saw  a  way  to  use  them  to  his  own 
advantage.  When  he  reported  for  final  instructions,  there- 
fore, at  General  Smith's  tent,  in  the  evening,  Will  said  to 
him: 

"I  gathered  from  a  statement  dropped  by  the  prisoner 
captured  yesterday,  that  a  Confederate  spy  has  succeeded 
in  making  out  and  carrying  to  the  enemy  a  complete  map 
of  the  position  of  our  regiment,  together  with  some  idea  of 
the  projected  plan  of  campaign." 

"Ah,"  said  the  general;  "I  am  glad  that  you  have  put 
me  on  my  guard.  I  will  at  once  change  my  position,  so 
that  the  information  will  be  of  no  value  to  them." 


no         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Then  followed  full  instructions  as  to  the  duty  required 
of  the  volunteer. 

"When  will  you  set  out?"  asked  the  general. 

"To-night,  sir.  I  have  procured  my  uniform,  and  have 
everything  prepared  for  an  early  start." 

"Going  to  change  your  colors,  eh?" 

"Yes,  for  the  time  being,  but  not  my  principles." 

The  general  looked  at  Will  approvingly.  "You  will 
need  all  the  wit,  pluck,  nerve,  and  caution  of  which  you 
are  possessed  to  come  through  this  ordeal  safely,"  said  he. 
"I  believe  you  can  accomplish  it,  and  I  rely  upon  you 
fully.  Good  by,  and  success  go  with  you!" 

After  a  warm  hand-clasp,  Will  returned  to  his  tent,  and 
lay  down  for  a  few  hours'  rest.  By  four  o'clock  he  was  in 
the  saddle,  riding  toward  the  Confederate  lines. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IN   THE   SECRET-SERVICE. 

IN  common  walks  of  life  to  play  the  spy  is  an  ignoble  role ; 
yet  the  work  has  to  be  done,  and  there  must  be  men  to  do 
it.  There  always  are  such  men — nervy  fellows  who  swing 
themselves  into  the  saddle  when  their  commander  lifts  his 
hand,  and  ride  a  mad  race,  with  Death  at  the  horse's  flank 
every  mile  of  the  way.  They  are  the  unknown  heroes  of 
every  war. 

It  was  with  a  full  realization  of  the  dangers  confronting 
him  that  Will  cantered  away  from  the  Union  lines,  his 
borrowed  uniform  under  his  arm.  As  soon  as  he  had  put 
the  outposts  behind  him,  he  dismounted  and  exchanged 
the  blue  clothes  for  the  gray.  Life  on  the  plains  had 
bronzed  his  face.  For  aught  his  complexion  could  tell,  the 
ardent  Southern  sun  might  have  kissed  it  to  its  present 
hue.  Then,  if  ever,  his  face  was  his  fortune  in  good  part; 
but  there  was,  too,  a  stout  heart  under  his  jacket,  and  the 
light  of  confidence  in  his  eyes. 

The  dawn  had  come  up  when  he  sighted  the  Confeder- 
ate outposts.  What  lay  beyond  only  time  could  reveal; 
but  with  a  last  reassuring  touch  of  the  papers  in  his  pocket, 
he  spurred  his  horse  up  to  the  first  of  the  outlying  sentinels. 
Promptly  the  customary  challenge  greeted  him : 

"Halt!  Who  goes  there?" 

"Friend." 

"Dismount,  friend!  Advance  and  give  the  counter- 
sign ! ' ' 

in 


UVST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

fc  Haven't  the  countersign/*  said  Will,  dropping  from 
his  horse,  "but  I  have  important  information  for  General 
Fofiest.  Take  me  to  him  at  once." 

"Are  you  a  Confederate  soldier?'* 

"Not  exactly.  But  I  have  some  valuable  news  about 
the  Yanks,  I  reckon.  Better  let  me  see  the  general." 

"Thus  far/"  he  added  to  himself,  "I  have  played  the 
part.  The  combination  of  'Yank*  and  'I  reckon*  ought  to 
establish  me  as  a  promising  candidate  for  Confederate 
honors," 

His  story  was  not  only  plausible,  but  plainly  and  fairly 
told ;  but  caution  is  a  child  of  war,  and  the  sentinel  knew 
his  business.  The  pseudo-Confederate  was  disarmed  as  a 
necessary  preliminary,  and  marched  between  two  guards 
to  headquarters,  many  curious  eyes  (the  camp  being  now 
astir)  following  the  trio. 

When  Forrest  heard  the  report,  he  ordered  the  prisoner 
brought  before  him.  One  glance  at  the  general's  hand- 
some but  harsh  face,  and  the  young  man  steeled  his  nerves 
for  the  encounter.  There  was  no  mercy  in  those  cold, 
piercing  eyes.  This  first  duel  of  wits  was  the  one  to  be 
most  dreaded.  Unless  confidence  were  established,  his 
after  work  must  be  done  at  a  disadvantage. 

The  general's  penetrating  gaze  searched  the  young  face 
before  him  for  several  seconds. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  he,  "what  do  you  want  with  me 

Yankee-like,  the  reply  was  another  question : 

"You  sent  a  man  named  Nat  Golden  into  the  Union 
lines,  did  you  not,  sir?" 

"And  if  I  did,  what  then?" 

"He  is  an  old  friend  of  mine.  He  tried  for  the  Union 
camp  to  verify  information  that  he  had  received,  but  before 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         «3 

he  started  he  left  certain  papers  with  me  in  case  he  should 
be  captured." 

"  Ah !"  said  Forrest,  coldly.     "And  he  was  captured?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but,  as  I  happen  to  know,  he  wasn't  hanged, 
for  these  weren't  on  him." 

As  he  spoke,  Will  took  from  his  pocket  the  papers  he 
had  obtained  from  Golden,  and  passed  them  over  with  the 
remark,  "Golden  asked  me  to  take  them  to  you." 

General  Forrest  was  familiar  with  the  hapless  Golden's 
handwriting,  and  the  documents  were  manifestly  genuine. 
His  suspicion  was  not  aroused. 

"These  are  important  papers,"  said  he,  when  he  had 
run  his  eye  over  them.  "They  contain  valuable  informa- 
tion, but  we  may  not  be  able  to  use  it,  as  we  are  about  to 
change  our  location.  Do  you  know  what  these  papers  con- 
tain?" 

"Every  word,"  was  the  truthful  reply.  "I  studied 
them,  so  that  in  case  they  were  destroyed  you  would  still 
have  the  information  from  me." 

"A  wise  thing  to  do,"  said  Forrest,  approvingly. 
"Are  you  a  soldier?" 

"I  have  not  as  yet  joined  the  army,  but  I  am  pretty 
well  acquainted  with  this  section,  and  perhaps  could  serve 
you  as  a  scout." 

"Um!"  said  the  general,  looking  the  now  easy-minded 
young  man  over.  "You  wear  our  uniform." 

"It's  Golden's, ' '  was  the  second  truthful  answer.  ' ' He 
left  it  with  me  when  he  put  on  the  blue." 

"And  what  is  your  name?" 

"Frederick  Williams." 

Pretty  near  the  truth.  Only  a  final  "s"  and  a  rear- 
rangement of  his  given  names. 


114         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  general,  ending  the  audience; 
4 'you  may  remain  in  camp.  If  I  need  you,  I'll  send  for  you." 

He  summoned  an  orderly,  and  bade  him  make  the 
volunteer  scout  comfortable  at  the  couriers'  camp.  Will 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  followed  at  the  orderly's 
heels.  The  ordeal  was  successfully  passed.  The  rest  was 
action. 

Two  days  went  by.  In  them  Will  picked  up  valuable 
information  here  and  there,  drew  maps,  and  was  prepared 
to  depart  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity.  It  was  about 
time,  he  figured,  that  General  Forrest  found  some  scouting 
work  for  him.  That  was  a  passport  beyond  the  lines,  and 
he  promised  himself  the  outposts  should  see  the  cleanest 
pair  of  heels  that  ever  left  unwelcome  society  in  the  rear. 
But  evidently  scouting  was  a  drug  in  the  general's  market, 
for  the  close  of  another  day  found  Will  impatiently  await- 
ing orders  in  the  couriers'  quarters.  This  sort  of  inactivity 
was  harder  on  the  nerves  than  more  tangible  perils,  and  he 
about  made  up  his  mind  that  when  he  left  camp  it  would 
be  without  orders,  but  with  a  hatful  of  bullets  singing  after 
him.  And  he  was  quite  sure  that  his  exit  lay  that  way 
when,  strolling  past  headquarters,  he  clapped  eyes  on  the 
very  last  person  that  he  expected  or  wished  to  see — Nat 
Golden. 

And  Nat  was  talking  to  an  adjutant-general! 

There  were  just  two  things  to  do,  knock  Golden  on  the 
head,  or  cut  and  run.  Nat  would  not  betray  him  know- 
ingly, but  unwittingly  was  certain  to  do  so  the  moment 
General  Forrest  questioned  him.  There  could  be  no  choice 
between  the  two  courses  open ;  it  was  cut  and  run,  and  as 
a  preliminary  Will  cut  for  his  tent.  First  concealing  his 
papers,  he  saddled  his  horse  and  rode  toward  the  outposts 
with  a  serene  countenance. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         115 

The  same  sergeant  that  greeted  him  when  he  entered 
the  lines  chanced  to  be  on  duty,  and  of  him  Will  asked  an 
unimportant  question  concerning  the  outer-flung  lines. 
Yet  as  he  rode  along  he  could  not  forbear  throwing  an 
apprehensive  glance  behind. 

No  pursuit  was  making,  and  the  farthest  picket-line  was 
passed  by  a  good  fifty  yards.  Ahead  was  a  stretch  of 
timber. 

Suddenly  a  dull  tattoo  of  horses'  hoofs  caught  his  ear, 
and  he  turned  to  see  a  small  cavalcade  bearing  down  upon 
him  at  a  gallop.  He  sank  the  spurs  into  his  horse's  side 
and  plunged  into  the  timber. 

It  was  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire.  He  ran 
plump  into  a  half-dozen  Confederate  cavalrymen,  guarding 
two  Union  prisoners. 

"Men,  a  Union  spy  is  escaping!"  shouted  Will. 
"Scatter  at  once,  and  head  him  off.  I'll  look  after  your 
prisoners. 

There  was  a  ring  of  authority  in  the  command ;  it  came 
at  least  from  a  petty  officer;  and  without  thought  of  chal- 
lenging it,  the  cavalrymen  hurried  right  and  left  in  search 
of  the  fugitive. 

' 'Come, "said  Will,  in  a  hurried  but  smiling  whisper  to 
the  dejected  pair  of  Union  men.  "I'm  the  spy!  There!" 
cutting  the  ropes  that  bound  their  wrists.  "Now  ride  for 
your  lives!" 

Off  dashed  the  trio,  and  not  a  minute  too  soon.  Will's 
halt  had  been  brief,  but  it  had  been  of  advantage  to  his 
pursuers,  who,  with  Nat  Golden  at  their  head,  came  on  in 
full  cry,  not  a  hundred  yards  behind. 

Here  was  a  race  with  Death  at  the  horse's  flanks.  The 
timber  stopped  a  share  of  the  singing  bullets,  but  there 
were  plenty  that  got  by  the  trees,  one  of  them  finding  lodg- 


n6  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

ment  in  the  arm  of  one  of  the  fleeing  Union  soldiers. 
Capture  meant  certain  death  for  Will;  for  his  companions 
it  meant  Andersonville  or  Libby,  at  the  worst,  which  was 
perhaps  as  bad  as  death;  but  Will  would  not  leave  them, 
though  his  horse  was  fresh,  and  he  could  easily  have  dis- 
tanced them.  Of  course,  if  it  became  necessary,  he  was 
prepared  to  cut  their  acquaintance,  but  for  the  present  he 
made  one  of  the  triplicate  targets  on  which  the  galloping 
marksmen  were  endeavoring  to  score  a  bull's-eye. 

The  edge  of  the  wood  was  shortly  reached,  and 
beyond — inspiring  sight! — lay  the  outposts  of  the  Union 
army.  The  pickets,  at  sight  of  the  fugitives,  sounded  the 
alarm,  and  a  body  of  blue-coats  responded. 

Will  would  have  gladly  tarried  for  the  skirmish  that 
ensued,  but  he  esteemed  it  his  first  duty  to  deliver  the 
papers  he  had  risked  his  life  to  obtain ;  so,  leaving  friend 
and  foe  to  settle  the  dispute  as  best  they  might,  he  put  for 
the  clump  of  trees  where  he  had  hidden  his  uniform,  and 
exchanged  it  for  the  gray,  that  had  served  its  purpose  and 
was  no  longer  endurable.  Under  his  true  colors  he  rode 
into  camp. 

General  Forrest  almost  immediately  withdrew  from  that 
neighborhood,  and  after  the  atrocious  massacre  at  Fort 
Pillow,  on  the  I2th  of  April,  left  the  state.  General  Smith 
was  recalled,  and  Will  was  transferred,  with  the  commission 
of  guide  and  scout  for  the  Ninth  Kansas  Regiment. 

The  Indians  were  giving  so  much  trouble  along  the  line 
of  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail  that  troops  were  needed  to  protect 
the  stagecoaches,  emigrants,  and  caravans  traveling  that 
great  highway.  Like  nearly  all  our  Indian  wars,  this 
trouble  was  precipitated  by  the  injustice  of  the  white  man's 
government  of  certain  of  the  native  tribes.  In  1860 
Colonel  "A.  G.  Boone,  a  worthy  grandson  of  the  immortal 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         "7 

Daniel,  made  a  treaty  with  the  Comanches,  Kiowas,  Chey? 
ennes,  and  Arapahoes,  and  at  their  request  he  was  made 
agent.  During  his  wise,  just,  and  humane  administration 
all  of  these  savage  nations  were  quiet,  and  held  the  kind- 
liest feelings  toward  the  whites.  Any  one  could  cross  the 
plains  without  fear  of  molestation.  In  1861  a  charge  of 
disloyalty  was  made  against  Colonel  Boone  by  Judge 
Wright,  of  Indiana,  and  he  succeeded  in  having  the  right 
man  removed  from  the  right  place.  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell,  recognizing  his  influence  over  the  Indians,  gave 
him  fourteen  hundred  acres  of  land  near  Pueblo,  Colorado. 
Colonel  Boone  moved  there,  and  the  place  was  named 
Booneville.  Fifty  chieftains  from  the  tribes  referred  to 
visited  Colonel  Boone  in  the  fall  of  1862,  and  implored  him 
to  return  to  them.  He  told  them  that  the  President  had 
sent  him  away.  They  offered  to  raise  money,  by  selling 
their  horses,  to  send  him  to  Washington,  to  tell  the  Great 
Father  what  their  agent  was  doing — that  he  stole  their 
goods  and  sold  them  back  again ;  and  they  bade  the  colonel 
say  that  there  would  be  trouble  unless  some  one  were  put 
in  the  dishonest  man's  place.  With  the  innate  logic  for 
which  the  Indian  is  noted,  they  declared  that  they  had  as 
much  right  to  steal  from  passing  caravans  as  the  agent  had 
to  steal  from  them. 

No  notice  was  taken  of  so  trifling  a  matter  as  an  injus- 
tice to  the  Indian.  The  administration  had  its  hands  more 
than  full  in  the  attempt  to  right  the  wrongs  of  the  negro. 

In  the  fall  of M 863  a  caravan  passed  along  the  trail.  It 
was  a  small  one,  but  the  Indians  had  been  quiet  for  so  long 
a  time  that  travelers  were  beginning  to  lose  fear  of  them. 
A  band  of  warriors  rode  up  to  the  wagon-train  and  asked 
for  something  to  eat.  The  teamsters  thought  they  would 
be  doing  humanity  a  service  if  they  killed  a  redskin,  on  the 


n8         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

ancient  principle  that  "the  only  good  Indian  is  a  dead 
one. ' '  Accordingly,  a  friendly,  inoffensive  Indian  was  shot. 

The  bullet  that  reached  his  heart  touched  that  of  every 
warrior  in  these  nations.  Every  man  but  one  in  the  wagon- 
train  was  slain,  the  animals  driven  off,  and  the  wagons 
burned. 

The  fires  of  discontent  that  had  been  smoldering  for 
two  years  in  the  red  man's  breast  now  burst  forth  with  vol- 
canic fury.  Hundreds  of  atrocious  murders  followed,  with 
wholesale  destruction  of  property. 

The  Ninth  Kansas  Regiment,  under  the  command  of 
Colonel  Clark,  was  detailed  to  protect  the  old  trail  between 
Fort  Lyon  and  Fort  Larned,  and  as  guide  and  scout  Will 
felt  wholly  at  home.  He  knew  the  Indian  and  his  ways, 
and  had  no  fear  of  him.  His  fine  horse  and  glittering  trap- 
pings were  an  innocent  delight  to  him ;  and  who  will  not 
pardon  in  him  the  touch  of  pride — say  vanity — that  thrilled 
him  as  he  led  his  regiment  down  the  Arkansas  River? 

During  the  summer  there  were  sundry  skirmishes  with  the 
Indians.  The  same  old  vigilance,  learned  in  earlier  days 
on  the  frontier,  was  in  constant  demand,  and  there  was 
many  a  rough  and  rapid  ride  to  drive  the  hostiles  from  the 
trail.  Whatever  Colonel  Clark's  men  may  have  had  to 
complain  of,  there  was  no  lack  of  excitement,  no  dull  days, 
in  that  summer. 

In  the  autumn  the  Seventh  Kansas  was  again  ordered  to 
the  front,  and  at  the  request  of  its  officers  Will  was  detailed 
for  duty  with  his  old  regiment.  General  Smith's  orders 
were  that  he  should  go  to  Nashville.  Rosecrans  was  then 
in  command  of  the  Union  forces  in  Missouri.  His  army 
was  very  small,  numbering  only  about  6,500  men,  while 
the  Confederate  General  Price  was  on  the  point  of  entering 
the  state  with  20,000.  This  superiority  of  numbers  was  so 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         "9 

great  that  General  Smith  received  an  order  countermand- 
ing the  other,  and  remained  in  Missouri,  joining  forces  with 
Rosecrans  to  oppose  Price.  Rosecrans's  entire  force  still 
numbered  only  11,000,  and  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  con- 
centrate his  army  around  St.  Louis.  General  Ewing's 
forces  and  a  portion  of  General  Smith's  command  occupied 
Pilot  Knob.  On  Monday,  the  24th  of  September,  1864, 
Price  advanced  against  this  position,  but  was  repulsed  with 
heavy  losses.  An  adjacent  fort  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Ironton  was  assaulted,  but  the  Confederate  forces  again 
sustained  a  severe  loss.  This  fort  held  a  commanding 
lookout  on  Shepard  Mountain,  which  the  Confederates 
occupied,  and  their  well-directed  fire  obliged  General  Ewing 
to  fall  back  to  Harrison  Station,  where  he  made  a  stand, 
and  some  sharp  fighting  followed.  General  Ewing  again 
fell  back,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  General  McNeill,  at 
Rolla,  with  the  main  body  of  his  troops. 

This  was  Will's  first  serious  battle,  and  it  so  chanced 
that  he  found  himself  opposed  at  one  point  by  a  body  of 
Missouri  troops  numbering  many  of  the  men  who  had  been 
his  father's  enemies  and  persecutors  nine  years  before.  In 
the  heat  of  the  conflict  he  recognized  more  than  one  of 
them,  and  with  the  recognition  came  the  memory  of  his 
boyhood's  vow  to  avenge  his  father's  death.  Three  of 
those  men  fell  in  that  battle;  and  whether  or  not  it  was  he 
who  laid  them  low,  from  that  day  on  he  accounted  himself 
freed  of  his  melancholy  obligation. 

After  several  hard-fought  battles,  Price  withdrew  from 
Missouri  with  the  remnant  of  his  command — seven  thou- 
sand where  there  had  been  twenty. 

During  this  campaign  Will  received  honorable  mention 
"for  most  conspicuous  bravery  and  valuable  service  upon 
the  field,"  and  he  was  shortly  brought  into  favorable  notice 


120         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

in  many  quarters.  The  worth  of  the  tried  veterans  was 
known,  but  none  of  the  older  men  was  in  more  demand 
than  Will.  His  was  seemingly  a  charmed  life.  Often  was 
he  detailed  to  bear  dispatches  across  the  battlefield,  and 
though  horses  were  shot  under  him — riddled  by  bullets  or 

o  <J 

torn  by  shells — he  himself  went  scathless. 

During  this  campaign,  too,  he  ran  across  his  old  friend 
of  the  plains,  Wild  Bill.  Stopping  at  a  farm-house  one  day 
to  obtain  a  meal,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  hear  the 
salutation : 

"Well,  Billy,  my  boy,  how  are  you?" 

He  looked  around  to  see  a  hand  outstretched  from  a 
coat-sleeve  of  Confederate  gray,  and  as  he  knew  Wild  Bill 
to  be  a  stanch  Unionist,  he  surmised  that  he  was  engaged 
upon  an  enterprise  similar  to  his  own.  There  was  an 
exchange  of  chaffing  about  gray  uniforms  and  blue,  but 
more  serious  talk  followed. 

"Take  these  papers,  Billy,"  said  Wild  Bill,  passing 
over  a  package.  "Take  'em  to  General  McNeil!',  and  tell 
him  I'm  picking  up  too  much  good  news  to  keep  away 
from  the  Confederate  camp." 

"Don't  take  too  many  chances,"  cautioned  Will,  well 
knowing  that  the  only  chances  the  other  would  not  take 
would  be  the  sort  that  were  not  visible. 

Colonel  Hickok,  to  give  him  his  real  name,  replied,  with 
a  laugh: 

"Practice  what  you  preach,  my  son.  Your  neck  is  of 
more  value  than  mine.  You  have  a  future,  but  mine  is 
mostly  past.  I'm  getting  old." 

At  this  point  the  good  woman  of  the  house  punctuated 
the  colloquy  with  a  savory  meal,  which  the  pair  discussed 
with  good  appetite  and  easy  conscience,  in  spite  of  their 
hostess's  refusal  to  take  pay  from  Confederate  soldiers. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          121 

"As  long  as  I  have  a  crust  in  the  house,"  said  she, 
"you  boys  are  welcome  to  it." 

But  the  pretended  Confederates  paid  her  for  her  kind- 
ness in  better  currency  than  she  was  used  to.  They  with- 
held information  concerning  a  proposed  visit  of  her  husband 
and  son,  of  which,  during  one  spell  of  loquacity,  she 
acquainted  them.  The  bread  she  cast  upon  the  waters 
returned  to  her  speedily. 

The  two  friends  parted  company,  Will  returning  to  the 
Union  lines,  and  Colonel  Hickok  to  the  opposing  camp. 

A  few  days  later,  when  the  Confederate  forces  were 
closing  up  around  the  Union  lines,  and  a  battle  was  at 
hand,  two  horsemen  were  seen  to  dart  out  of  the  hostile 
camp  and  ride  at  full  speed  for  the  Northern  lines.  For  a 
space  the  audacity  of  the  escape  seemed  to  paralyze  the 
Confederates;  but  presently  the  bullets  followed  thick  and 
fast,  and  one  of  the  saddles  was  empty  before  the  rescue 
party — of  which  Will  was  one — got  fairly  under  way.  As 
the  survivor  drew  near,  Will  shouted : 

"It's  Wild  Bill,  the  Union  scout." 

A  cheer  greeted  the  intrepid  Colonel  Hickok,  and  he 
rode  into  camp  surrounded  by  a  party  of  admirers.  The 
information  he  brought  proved  of  great  value  in  the  battle 
of  Pilot  Knob  (already  referred  to),  which  almost  immedi- 
ately followed. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    RESCUE   AND   A   BETROTHAL. 

AFTER  the  battle  of  Pilot  Knob  Will  was  assigned,  through 
the  influence  of  General  Polk,  to  special  service  at  military 
headquarters  in  St.  Louis.  Mrs.  Polk  had  been  one  of 
mother's  school  friends,  and  the  two  had  maintained  a  cor- 
respondence up  to  the  time  of  mother's  death.  As  soon 
as  Mrs.  Polk  learned  that  the  son  of  her  old  friend  was  in 
the  Union  army,  she  interested  herself  in  obtaining  a  good 
position  for  him.  But  desk-work  is  not  a  Pony  Express 
rush,  and  Will  found  the  St.  Louis  detail  about  as  much  to 
his  taste  as  clerking  in  a  dry-goods  store.  His  new  duties 
naturally  became  intolerable,  lacking  the  excitement  and 
danger-scent  which  alone  made  his  life  worth  while  to  him. 

One  event,  however,  relieved  the  dead-weight  monotony 
of  his  existence;  he  met  Louise  Frederici,  the  girl  who 
became  his  wife.  The  courtship  has  been  written  far  and 
wide  with  blood-and-thunder  pen,  attended  by  lariat-throw- 
ing and  runaway  steeds.  In  reality  it  was  a  romantic  affair. 

More  than  once,  while  out  for  a  morning  canter,  Will 
had  remarked  a  young  woman  of  attractive  face  and  figure, 
who  sat  her  horse  with  the  grace  of  Diana  Vernon.  Now, 
few  things  catch  Will's  eye  more  quickly  than  fine  horse- 
manship. He  desired  to  establish  an  acquaintance  with  the 
young  lady,  but  as  none  of  his  friends  knew  her,  he  found 
it  impossible. 

At  length  a  chance  came.      Her  bridle-rein  broke  one 

122 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         123 

morning;  there  was  a  runaway,  a  rescue,  and  then  acquaint- 
ance was  easy. 

From  war  to  love,  or  from  love  to  war,  is  but  a  step, 
and  Will  lost  no  time  in  taking  it.  He  was  somewhat  bet- 
ter than  an  apprentice  to  Dan  Cupid.  If  the  reader 
remembers,  he  went  to  school  with  Steve  Gobel.  True, 
his  opportunities  to  enjoy  feminine  society  had  not  been 
many,  which,  perhaps,  accounts  for  the  promptness  with 
which  he  embraced  them  when  they  did  arise.  He  became 
the  accepted  suitor  of  Miss  Louise  Frederici  before  the  war 
closed  and  his  regiment  was  mustered  out. 

The  spring  of  1865  found  him  not  yet  twenty,  and  he 
was  sensible  of  the  fact  that  before  he  could  dance  at  his 
own  wedding  he  must  place  his  worldly  affairs  upon  a  surer 
financial  basis  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  a  soldier;  so,  much  as 
he  would  have  enjoyed  remaining  in  St.  Louis,  fortune 
pointed  to  wider  fields,  and  he  set  forth  in  search  of 
remunerative  and  congenial  employment. 

First,  there  was  the  visit  home,  where  the  warmest  of 
welcomes  awaited  him.  During  his  absence  the  second  sis- 
ter, Eliza,  had  married  a  Mr.  Myers,  but  the  rest  of  us 
were  at  the  old  place,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  we 
awaited  Will's  home-coming  was  stimulated  by  the  hope 
that  he  would  remain  and  take  charge  of  the  estate.  Before 
we  broached  this  subject,  however,  he  informed  us  of  his 
engagement  to  Miss  Frederici,  which,  far  from  awakening 
jealousy,  aroused  our  delight,  Julia  voicing  the  sentiment 
of  the  family  in  the  comment: 

"When  you're  married,  Will,  you  will  have  to  stay  at 
home." 

This  led  to  the  matter  of  his  remaining  with  us  to  man- 
age the  estate — and  to  the  upsetting  of  our  plans.  The 
pay  of  a  soldier  in  the  war  was  next  to  nothing,  and  as 


124         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Will  had  been  unable  to  put  any  money  by,  he  took  the 
first  chance  that  offered  to  better  his  fortunes. 

This  happened  to  be  a  job  of  driving  horses  from  Leav- 
enworth  to  Port  Kearny,  and  almost  the  first  man  he  met 
after  reaching  the  fort  was  an  old  plains  friend,  Bill  Trotter. 

"You're  just  the  chap  I've  been  looking  for,"  said 
Trotter,  when  he  learned  that  Will  desired  regular  work. 
"I'm  division  station  agent  here,  but  stage-driving  is  dan- 
gerous work,  as  the  route  is  infested  with  Indians  and  out- 
laws. Several  drivers  have  been  held  up  and  killed  lately, 
so  it's  not  a  very  enticing  job,  but  the  pay's  good,  and  you 
know  the  country.  If  any  one  can  take  the  stage  through, 
you  can.  Do  you  want  the  job?" 

When  a  man  is  in  love  and  the  wedding-day  has  been 
dreamed  of,  if  not  set,  life  takes  on  an  added  sweetness, 
and  to  stake  it  against  the  marksmanship  of  Indian  or  out- 
law is  not,  perhaps,  the  best  use  to  which  it  may  be  put. 
Will  had  come  safely  through  so  many  perils  that  it  seemed 
folly  to  thrust  his  head  into  another  batch  of  them,  and 
thinking  of  Louise  and  the  coming  wedding-day,  his  first 
thought  was  no. 

But  it  was  the  old  story,  and  there  was  Trotter  at  his 
elbow  expressing  confidence  in  his  ability  as  a  frontiers- 
man— an  opinion  Will  fully  shared,  for  a  man  knows  what 
he  can  do.  The  pay  was  good,  and  the  sooner  earned  the 
sooner  would  the  wedding  be,  and  Trotter  received  the 
answer  he  expected. 

The  stage  line  was  another  of  the  Western  enterprises 
projected  by  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  When  gold  was 
discovered  on  Pike's  Peak  there  was  no  method  of  travers- 
ing the  great  Western  plain  except  by  plodding  ox-team, 
mule-pack,  or  stagecoach.  A  semi-monthly  stage  line  ran 
from  St.  Joseph  to  Salt  Lake  City,  but  it  was  poorly 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         125 

equipped  and  very  tedious,  oftentimes  twenty-one  days 
being  required  to  make  the  trip.  The  senior  member  of 
the  firm,  in  partnership  with  John  S.  Jones,  of  Missouri, 
established  a  new  line  between  the  Missouri  River  and 
Denver,  at  that  time  a  straggling  mining  hamlet.  One 
thousand  Kentucky  mules  were  bought,  with  a  sufficient 
number  of  coaches  to  insure  a  daily  run  each  way.  The 
trip  was  made  in  six  days,  which  necessitated  travel  at  the 
rate  of  a  hundred  miles  a  day. 

The  first  stage  reached  Denver  on  May  17,  1859.  It 
was  accounted  a  remarkable  achievement,  and  the  line  was 
pronounced  a  great  success.  In  one  way  it  was;  but  the 
expense  of  equipping  it  had  been  enormous,  and  the  new 
line  could  not  meet  its  obligations.  To  save  the  credit  of 
their  senior  partner,  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  were  obliged 
to  come  to  the  rescue.  They  bought  up  all  the  outstand- 
ing obligations,  and  also  the  rival  stage  line  between  St. 
Joseph  and  Salt  Lake  City.  They  consolidated  the  two, 
and  thereby  hoped  to  put  the  Overland  stage  route  on  a 
paying  basis.  St.  Joseph  now  became  the  starting-point 
of  the  united  lines.  From  there  the  road  went  to  Fort 
Kearny,  and  followed  the  old  Salt  Lake  trail,  already 
described  in  these  pages.  After  leaving  Salt  Lake  it  passed 
through  Camp  Floyd,  Ruby  Valley,  Carson  City,  Placer- 
ville,  and  Folsom,  and  ended  in  Sacramento. 

The  distance  from  St.  Joseph  to  Sacramento  by  this 
old  stage  route  was  nearly  nineteen  hundred  miles.  The 
time  required  by  mail  contracts  and  the  government 
schedule  was  nineteen  days.  The  trip  was  frequently  made 
in  fifteen,  but  there  were  so  many  causes  for  detention 
that  the  limit  was  more  often  reached. 

Each  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  road  was  desig- 
nated a  "division,"  and  was  in  charge  of  an  agent,  who  had 


126         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

great  authority  in  his  own  jurisdiction.  He  was  commonly 
a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  intelligence,  and  all  matters 
pertaining  to  his  division  were  entirely  under  his  control. 
He  hired  and  discharged  employes,  purchased  horses, 
mules,  harness,  and  food,  and  attended  to  their  distribution 
at  the  different  stations.  He  superintended  the  erection 
of  all  buildings,  had  charge  of  the  water  supply,  and  he 
was  the  paymaster. 

There  was  also  a  man  known  as  the  conductor,  whose 
route  was  almost  coincident  with  that  of  the  agent.  He 
sat  with  the  driver,  and  often  rode  the  whole  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  of  his  division  without  any  rest  or  sleep, 
except  what  he  could  catch  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  flying 
coach. 

The  coach  itself  was  a  roomy,  swaying  vehicle,  swung 
on  thorough-braces  instead  of  springs.  It  always  had  a 
six-horse  or  six-mule  team  to  draw  it,  and  the  speed  was 
nerve-breaking.  Passengers  were  allowed  twenty-five 
pounds  of  baggage,  and  that,  with  the  mail,  express, 
and  the  passengers  themselves,  was  in  charge  of  the 
conductor. 

The  Overland  stagecoaches  were  operated  at  a  loss 
until  1862.  In  March  of  that  year  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell  transferred  the  whole  outfit  to  Ben  Holliday. 
Here  was  a  typical  frontiersman,  of  great  individuality  and 
character.  At  the  time  he  took  charge  of  the  route  the 
United  States  mail  was  given  to  it.  This  put  the  line  on  a 
sound  financial  basis,  as  the  government  spent  $800,000 
yearly  in  transporting  the  mail  to  San  Francisco. 

Will  reported  for  duty  the  morning  after  his  talk  with 
Trotter,  and  when  he  mounted  the  stage -box  and  gathered 
the  reins  over  the  six  spirited  horses,  the  passengers  were 
assured  of  an  expert  driver. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          127 

His  run  was  from  Fort  Kearny  to  Plum  Creek  The 
country  was  sharply  familiar.  It  was  the  scene  of  his  first 
encounter  with  Indians.  A  long  and  lonely  ride  it  was, 
and  a  dismal  one  when  the  weather  turned  cold ;  but  it 
meant  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month,  and  each  pay 
day  brought  him  nearer  to  St.  Louis. 

Indian  signs  there  had  been  right  along,  but  they  were 
only  signs  until  one  bleak  day  in  November.  He  pulled 
out  of  Plum  Creek  with  a  sharp  warning  ringing  in  his 
ears.  Indians  were  on  the  war-path,  and  trouble  was  more 
likely  than  not  ahead.  Lieutenant  Flowers,  assistant  divi- 
sion agent,  was  on  the  box  with  him,  and  within  the  coach 
were  six  well-armed  passengers. 

Half  the  run  had  been  covered,  when  Will's  experi- 
enced eye  detected  the  promised  red  men.  Before  him  lay 
a  stream  which  must  be  forded.  The  creek  was  densely 
fringed  with  underbrush,  and  along  this  the  Indians  were 
skulking,  expecting  to  cut  the  stage  off  at  the  only  possible 
crossing. 

Perhaps  this  is  a  good  place  to  say  a  word  concerning 
the  seemingly  extraordinary  fortune  that  has  stood  by  Will 
in  his  adventures.  Not  only  have  his  own  many  escapes 
been  of  the  hairbreadth  sort,  but  he  has  arrived  on  the 
scene  of  danger  at  just  the  right  moment  to  rescue  others 
from  extinction.  Of  course,  an  element  of  luck  has  entered 
into  these  affairs,  but  for  the  most  part  they  simply  proved 
the  old  saying  that  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  better  than  a 
pound  of  cure.  Will  had  studied  the  plains  as  an  astrono- 
mer studies  the  heavens.  The  slightest  disarrangement  of 
the  natural  order  of  things  caught  his  eye.  With  the 
astronomer,  it  is  a  comet  or  an  asteroid  appearing  upon  a 
field  whose  every  object  has  long  since  been  placed  and 
studied;  with  Will,  it  was  a  feathered  headdress  where 


128         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

there  should  have  been  but  tree,  or  rock,  or  grass;  a  mov- 
ing figure  where  nature  should  have  been  inanimate. 

When  seen,  those  things  were  calculated  as  the  astron- 
omer calculates  the  motion  of  the  objects  that  he  studies. 
A  planet  will  arrive  at  a  given  place  at  a  certain  time;  an 
Indian  will  reach  a  ford  in  a  stream  in  about  so  many 
minutes.  If  there  be  time  to  cross  before  him,  it  is  a  mat- 
ter of  hard  driving;  if  the  odds  are  with  the  Indian,  that  is 
another  matter. 

A  less  experienced  observer  than  Will  would  not  have 
seen  the  skulking  redskins;  a  less  skilled  frontiersman 
would  not  have  apprehended  their  design;  a  less  expert 
driver  would  not  have  taken  the  running  chance  for  life ;  a 
less  accurate  marksman  would  not  have  picked  off  an  Indian 
with  a  rifle  while  shooting  from  the  top  of  a  swinging,  jerk- 
ing stagecoach. 

Will  did  not  hesitate.  A  warning  shout  to  the  passen- 
gers, and  the  whip  was  laid  on,  and  off  went  the  horses 
full  speed.  Seeing  that  they  had  been  discovered,  the 
Indians  came  out  into  the  open,  and  ran  their  ponies  for 
the  ford,  but  the  stage  was  there  full  five  hundred  yards 
before  them.  It  was  characteristic  of  their  driver  that  the 
horses  were  suffered  to  pause  at  the  creek  long  enough  to 
get  a  swallow  of  water;  then,  refreshed,  they  were  off  at 
full  speed  again. 

The  coach,  creaking  in  every  joint,  rocked  like  a  cap- 
tive balloon,  the  unhappy  passengers  were  hurled  from  one 
side  of  the  vehicle  to  the  other,  flung  into  one  another's 
laps,  and  occasionally,  when  some  uncommon  obstacle 
sought  to  check  the  flying  coach,  their  heads  collided  with 
its  roof.  The  Indians  menaced  them  without,  cracked 
skulls  seemed  their  fate  within. 

Will  plied  the  whip  relentlessly,  and  so  nobly  did  the 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         129 

powerful  horses  respond  that  the  Indians  gained  but 
slowly  on  them.  There  were  some  fifty  redskins  in  the 
band,  but  Will  assumed  that  if  he  could  reach  the  relay 
station,  the  two  stock-tenders  there,  with  himself,  Lieu- 
tenant Flowers,  and  the  passengers,  would  be  more  than 
a  match  for  the  marauders. 

When  the  pursuers  drew  within  fair  rifle  range,  Will 
handed  the  reins  to  the  lieutenant,  swung  round  in  his 
seat,  and  fired  at  the  chief. 

"There,"  shouted  one  of  the  passengers,  "that  fellow 
with  the  feathers  is  shot!"  and  another  fusillade  from  the 
coach  interior  drove  holes  in  the  air. 

The  relay  station  was  now  hard  by,  and  attracted  by 
the  firing^  the  stock-tenders  came  forth  to  take  a  hand  in 
the  engagement.  Disheartened  by  the  fall  of  their  chief, 
the  Indians  weakened  at  the  sign  of  reinforcements,  and 
gave  up  the  pursuit. 

Lieutenant  Flowers  and  two  of  the  passengers  were 
wounded,  but  Will  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  excited 
assurance  of  one  of  his  fares  that  they  (the  passengers)  had 
"killed  one  Indian  and  driven  the  rest  back."  The  stock- 
tenders  smiled  also,  but  said  nothing.  It  would  have  been 
too  bad  to  spoil  such  a  good  story. 

The  gravest  fears  for  the  safety  of  the  coach  had  been 
expressed  when  it  was  known  that  the  reds  were  on  the 
war-path ;  it  was  not  thought  possible  that  it  could  get 
through  unharmed,  and  troops  were  sent  out  to  scour  the 
country.  These,  while  too  late  to  render  service  in  the 
adventure  just  related,  did  good  work  during  the  remainder 
of  the  winter.  The  Indians  were  thoroughly  subdued,  and 
Will  saw  no  more  of  them. 

There  was  no  other  adventure  of  special  note  until  Feb- 
ruary. Just  before  Will  started  on  his  run,  Trotter  took 


130         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

him  to  one  side  and  advised  him  that  a  small  fortune  was 
going  by  the  coach  that  day,  and  extra  vigilance  was  urged, 
as  the  existence  of  the  treasure  might  have  become  known. 

"Til  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  Will;  and  he  had  scarcely 
driven  away  when  he  suspected  the  two  ill-favored  passen- 
gers he  carried.  The  sudden  calling  away  of  the  conduc- 
tor, whereby  he  was  left  alone,  was  a  suspicious  circum- 
stance. He  properly  decided  that  it  would  be  wiser  for 
him  to  hold  up  his  passengers  than  to  let  them  hold  up 
him,  and  he  proceeded  to  take  time  by  the  forelock.  He 
stopped  the  coach,  jumped  down,  and  examined  the  har- 
ness as  if  something  was  wrong;  then  he  stepped  to  the 
coach  door  and  asked  his  passengers  to  hand  him  a  rope 
that  was  inside.  As  they  complied,  they  looked  into  the 
barrels  of  two  cocked  revolvers. 

"Hands  up!"  said  Will. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  demanded  one  of  the 
pair,  as  their  arms  were  raised. 

"Thought  I'd  come  in  first — that's  all,"  was  the 
answer. 

The  other  was  not  without  appreciation  of  humor. 

"You're  a  cute  one,  youngster,"  said  he,  "but  you'll 
find  more'n  your  match  down  the  road,  or  I  miss  my  guess." 

"I'll  look  after  that  when  I  get  to  it,"  said  Will. 
"Will  you  oblige  me  by  tying  your  friend's  hands?  Thank 
you.  Now  throw  out  your  guns.  That  all?  All  right. 
Let  me  see  your  hands." 

When  both  outlaws  had  been  securely  trussed  up  and 
proven  to  be  disarmed,  the  journey  was  resumed.  The 
remark  dropped  by  one  of  the  pair  was  evidence  that  they 
were  part  of  the  gang.  He  must  reach  the  relay  station 
before  the  attack.  If  he  could  do  that,  he  had  a  plan  for 
farther  on. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  I31 

The  relay  station  was  not  far  away,  and  was  safely 
reached.  The  prisoners  were  turned  over  to  the  stock- 
tenders,  and  then  Will  disposed  of  the  treasure  against 
future  molestation.  He  cut  open  one  of  the  cushions  of 
the  coach,  taking  out  part  of  the  filling,  and  in  the  cavity 
thus  made  stored  everything  of  value,  including  his  own 
watch  and  pocketbook;  then  the  filling  was  replaced  and 
the  hole  smoothed  to  a  natural  appearance. 

If  there  were  more  in  the  gang,  he  looked  for  them  at 
the  ford  where  the  Indians  had  sought  to  cut  him  off,  and 
he  was  not  disappointed.  As  he  drew  near  the  growth  of 
willows  that  bordered  the  road,  half  a  dozen  men  with 
menacing  rifles  stepped  out. 

"Halt,  or  you're  a  dead  man!"  was  the  conventional 
salutation,  in  this  case  graciously  received. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?"  asked  Will. 

"The  boodle  you  carry.      Fork  it  over!" 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Will,  smiling,  "this  is  a  case  where 
it  takes  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief." 

"What's  that?"  cried  one  of  the  outlaws,  his  feelings 
outraged  by  the  frank  description. 

"Not  that  I'm  the  thief,"  continued  Will,  "but  your 
pals  were  one  too  many  for  you  this  time." 

"Did  they  rob  you?"  howled  the  gang  in  chorus, 
shocked  by  such  depravity  on  the  part  of  their  comrades. 

"If  there's  anything  left  in  the  coach  worth  having, 
don't  hesitate  to  take  it,"  offered  Will,  pleasantly. 

"Where's  your  strong-box?"  demanded  the  outlaws, 
loath  to  believe  there  was  no  honor  among  thieves. 

Will  drew  it  forth  and  exposed  its  melancholy  empti- 
ness. The  profanity  that  ensued  was  positively  shocking. 

"Where  did  they  hold  you  up?"  demanded  the  leader 
of  the  gang. 


132         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"  Eight  or  nine  miles  back.  You'll  find  some  straw  in 
the  road.  You  can  have  that,  too." 

''Were  there  horses  to  meet  them?" 

"On  foot  the  last  I  saw  them." 

"Then  we  can  catch  'em,  boys,"  shouted  the  leader, 
hope  upspringing  in  his  breast.  "Come,  let's  be  off!" 

They  started  for  the  willows  on  the  jump,  and  presently 
returned,  spurring  their  horses. 

"Give  them  my  regards!"  shouted  Will.  But  only  the 
thud!  thud!  of  horsehoofs  answered  him.  Retribution  was 
sweeping  like  a  hawk  upon  its  prey. 

Will  pushed  along  to  the  end  of  his  run,  and  handed 
over  his  trust  undisturbed.  Fearing  that  his  ruse  might 
have  been  discovered,  he  put  the  "extra  vigilance"  urged 
by  Trotter  into  the  return  trip,  but  the  trail  was  deserted. 
He  picked  up  the  prisoners  at  the  relay  station  and  carried 
them  to  Fort  Kearny.  If  their  companions  were  to  dis- 
cover the  sorry  trick  played  upon  them,  they  would  have 
demanded  his  life  as  a  sacrifice. 

At  the  end  of  this  exciting  trip  he  found  a  letter  from 
Miss  Frederici  awaiting  him.  She  urged  him  to  give  up 
the  wild  life  he  was  leading,  return  East,  and  find  another 
calling.  This  was  precisely  what  Will  himself  had  in  mind, 
and  persuasion  was  not  needed.  In  his  reply  he  asked  that 
the  wedding-day  be  set,  and  then  he  handed  Trotter  his 
resignation  from  the  lofty  perch  of  a  stage-driver. 

"I  don't  like  to  let  you  go,"  objected  Trotter. 

"But,"  said  Will,  "I  took  the  job  only  in  order  to  save 
enough  money  to  get  married  on." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Trotter,  "I  have  nothing  to  do 
but  wish  you  joy.'* 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WILL  AS   A   BENEDICT. 

WHEN  Will  reached  home,  he  found  another  letter  from 
Miss  Frederici,  who,  agreeably  to  his  request,  had  fixed 
the  wedding-day,  March  6,  1866. 

The  wedding  ceremony  was  quietly  performed  at  the 
home  of  the  bride,  and  the  large  number  of  friends  that 
witnessed  it  united  in  declaring  that  no  handsomer  couple 
ever  bowed  for  Hymen's  benediction. 

The  bridal  journey  was  a  trip  to  Leavenworth  on  a  Mis- 
souri steamer.  At  that  time  there  was  much  travel  by 
these  boats,  and  their  equipment  was  first-class.  They 
were  sumptuously  fitted  out,  the  table  was  excellent,  and 
except  when  sectional  animosities  disturbed  the  serenity  of 
their  decks,  a  trip  on  one  of  them  was  a  very  pleasant 
excursion. 

The  young  benedict  soon  discovered,  however,  that  in 
war  times  the  " trail  of  the  serpent"  is  liable  to  be  over  all 
things;  even  a  wedding  journey  is  not  exempt  from  the 
baneful  influence  of  sectional  animosity.  A  party  of  excur- 
sionists on  board  the  steamer  manifested  so  extreme  an 
interest  in  the  bridal  couple  that  Louise  retired  to  a  state- 
room to  escape  their  rudeness.  After  her  withdrawal,  Will 
entered  into  conversation  with  a  gentleman  from  Indiana, 
who  had  been  very  polite  to  him,  and  asked  him  if  he 
knew  the  reason  for  the  insolence  of  the  excursion  party. 
The  gentleman  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  answered : 


134         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

1  'To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Cody,  these  men  are  Missourians, 
and  say  they  recognize  you  as  one  of  Jennison's  Jayhawk- 
ers;  that  you  were  an  enemy  of  the  South,  and  are,  there- 
fore, an  enemy  of  theirs." 

Will  answered,  steadily:  "I  was  a  soldier  during  the 
war,  and  a  scout  in  the  Union  army,  but  I  had  some 
experience  of  Southern  chivalry  before  that  time."  And 
he  related  to  the  Indianian  some  of  the  incidents  of  the 
early  Kansas  border  warfare,  in  which  he  and  his  father  had 
played  so  prominent  a  part. 

The  next  day  the  insolent  behavior  was  continued. 
Will  was  much  inclined  to  resent  it,  but  his  wife  pleaded  so 
earnestly  with  him  to  take  no  notice  of  it  that  he  ignored  it. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  the  boat  landed  at  a  lonely  spot 
to  wood  up,  the  Missourians  seemed  greatly  excited,  and 
all  gathered  on  the  guards  and  anxiously  scanned  the  river- 
bank. 

The  roustabouts  were  just  about  to  make  the  boat  fast, 
when  a  party  of  armed  horsemen  dashed  out  of  the  woods 
and  galloped  toward  the  landing.  The  captain  thought 
the  boat  was  to  be  attacked,  and  hastily  gave  orders  to 
back  out,  calling  the  crew  on  board  at  the  same  time. 
These  orders  the  negroes  lost  no  time  in  obeying,  as  they 
often  suffered  severely  at  the  hands  of  these  reckless 
marauders.  The  leader  of  the  horsemen  rode  rapidly  up, 
firing  at  random.  As  he  neared  the  steamer  he  called 
out,  "  Where  is  that  Kansas  Jayhawker?  We  have  come 
for  him."  The  other  men  caught  sight  of  Will,  and  one 
of  them  cried,  "We  know  you,  Bill  Cody."  But  they 
were  too  late.  Already  the  steamer  was  backing  away 
from  the  shore,  dragging  her  gang-plank  through  the  water; 
the  negro  roustabouts  were  too  much  terrified  to  pull  it  in. 
When  the  attacking  party  saw  their  plans  were  frustrated, 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          135 

and  that  they  were  balked  of  their  prey,  they  gave  vent  to 
their  disappointment  in  yells  of  rage.  A  random  volley 
was  fired  at  the  retreating  steamer,  but  it  soon  got  out  of 
range,  and  continued  on  its  way  up  the  river. 

Will  had  prepared  himself  for  the  worst;  he  stood, 
revolver  in  hand,  at  the  head  of  the  steps,  ready  to  dispute 
the  way  with  his  foes. 

There  was  also  a  party  of  old  soldiers  on  board,  six  or 
eight  in  number;  they  were  dressed  in  civilians'  garb,  and 
Will  knew  nothing  of  them ;  but  when  they  heard  of  their 
comrade's  predicament,  they  hastily  prepared  to  back  up 
the  young  scout.  Happily  the  danger  was  averted,  and 
their  services  were  not  called  into  requisition.  The 
remainder  of  the  trip  was  made  without  unpleasant  incident. 

It  was  afterward  learned  that  as  soon  as  the  Missouri- 
ans  became  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  Union  scout  on 
board,  they  telegraphed  ahead  to  the  James  and  Younger 
brothers  that  Will  was  aboard  the  boat,  and  asked  to  have 
a  party  meet  it  at  this  secluded  landing,  and  capture  and 
carry  off  the  young  soldier.  Will  feared  that  Louise  might 
be  somewhat  disheartened  by  such  an  occurrence  on  the 
bridal  trip,  but  the  welcome  accorded  the  young  couple  on 
their  arrival  at  Leavenworth  was  flattering  enough  to  make 
amends  for  all  unpleasant  incidents.  The  young  wife 
found  that  her  husband  numbered  his  friends  by  the  score 
in  his  own  home,  and  in  the  grand  reception  tendered  them 
he  was  the  lion  of  the  hour. 

Entreated  by  Louise  to  abandon  the  plains  and  pursue 
a  vocation  along  more  peaceful  paths,  Will  conceived  the 
idea  of  taking  up,  the  business  in  which  mother  had  won 
financial  success — that  of  landlord.  The  house  she  had 
built  was  purchased  after  her  death  by  Dr.  Crook,  a  sur- 
geon in  the  Seventh  Kansas  Regiment.  It  was  now  for 


136         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

rent,  which  fact  no  doubt  decided  Will  in  his  choice  of  an 
occupation.  It  was  good  to  live  again  under  the  roof  that 
had  sheltered  his  mother  in  her  last  days;  it  was  good  to 
see  the  young  wife  amid  the  old  scenes.  So  Will  turned 
boniface,  and  invited  May  and  me  to  make  our  home  with 
him. 

There  was  a  baby  in  Julia's  home,  and  it  had  so  wound 
itself  around  May's  heartstrings  that  she  could  not  be 
enticed  away;  but  there  was  never  anybody  who  could 
supplant  Will  in  my  heart ;  so  I  gladly  accepted  his  invita- 
tion. 

Thoreau  has  somewhere  drawn  a  sympathetic  portrait 
of  the  Landlord,  who  is  supposed  to  radiate  hospitality  as 
the  sun  throws  off  heat — as  its  own  reward — and  who  feeds 
and  lodges  men  purely  from  a  love  of  the  creatures.  Yet 
even  such  a  landlord,  if  he  is  to  continue  long  in  business, 
must  have  an  eye  to  profit,  and  make  up  in  one  corner 
what  he  parts  with  in  another.  Now,  Will  radiated  hos- 
pitality, and  his  reputation  as  a  lover  of  his  fellowman  got 
so  widely  abroad  that  travelers  without  money  and  without 
price  would  go  miles  out  of  their  way  to  put  up  at  his  tav- 
ern. Socially,  he  was  an  irreproachable  landlord  ;  financially, 
his  shortcomings  were  deplorable. 

And  then  the  life  of  an  innkeeper,  while  not  without 
its  joys  and  opportunities  to  love  one's  fellowman,  is 
somewhat  prosaic,  and  our  guests  oftentimes  remarked  an 
absent,  far-away  expression  in  the  eyes  of  Landlord  Cody. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  plains.  Louise  also  remarked  that 
expression,  and  the  sympathy  she  felt  for  his  yearnings  was 
accentuated  by  an  examination  of  the  books  of  the  hostelry 
at  the  close  of  the  first  six  months'  business.  Half  smil- 
ing, half  tearful,  she  consented  to  his  return  to  his  West- 
ern life. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         137 

Will  disposed  of  the  house  and  settled  his  affairs,  and 
when  all  the  bills  were  paid,  and  Sister  Lou  and  I  cozily 
ensconced  in  a  little  home  at  Leavenworth,  we  found  that 
Will's  generous  thought  for  our  comfort  through  the  winter 
had  left  him  on  the  beach  financially.  He  had  planned  a 
freighting  trip  on  his  own  account,  but  the  acquiring  of  a 
team,  wagon,  and  the  rest  of  the  outfit  presented  a  knotty 
problem  when  he  counted  over  the  few  dollars  left  on  hand. 

For  the  first  time  I  saw  disappointment  and  discourage- 
ment written  on  his  face,  and  I  was  sorely  distressed,  for 
he  had  never  denied  me  a  desire  that  he  could  gratify,  and 
it  was  partly  on  my  account  that  he  was  not  in  better 
financial  condition.  I  was  not  yet  sixteen;  it  would  be  two 
years  more  before  I  could  have  a  say  as  to  the  disposition 
of  my  own  money,  yet  something  must  be  done  at  once. 

I  decided  to  lay  the  matter  before  Lawyer  Douglass. 
Surely  he  could  suggest  some  plan  whereby  I  might  assist 
my  brother.  I  had  a  half-matured  plan  of  my  own,  but  I 
was  assured  that  Will  would  not  listen  to  it. 

Mr.  Douglass  had  been  the  legal  adviser  of  the  family 
since  he  won  our  first  lawsuit,  years  before.  We  consid- 
ered the  problem  from  every  side,  and  the  lawyer  suggested 
that  Mr.  Buckley,  an  old  friend  of  the  famliy,  had  a  team 
and  wagon  for  sale ;  they  were  strong  and  serviceable,  and 
just  the  thing  that  Will  would  likely  want.  I  was  a  minor, 
but  if  Mr.  Buckley  was  willing  to  accept  me  as  security  for 
the  property,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  making  the 
transfer. 

Mr.  Buckley  proved   entirely  agreeable  to  the   proposi 
tion.     Will  could  have  the  outfit  in  return  for  his  note  with 
my  indorsement. 

That  disposed  of,  the  question  of  freight  to  put  into 
the  wagon  arose.  I  thought  of  another  old  friend  of  the 


138  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

family,  M.  E.  Albright,  a  wholesale  grocer  in  Leavenworth. 
Would  he  trust  Will  for  a  load  of  supplies?  He  would. 

Thus  everything  was  arranged  satisfactorily,  and  I  has- 
tened home  to  not  the  easiest  task — to  prevail  upon  Will  to 
accept  assistance  at  the  hands  of  the  little  sister  who,  not 
so  long  ago,  had  employed  his  aid  in  the  matter  of  a  pair 
of  shoes. 

But  Will  could  really  do  nothing  save  accept,  and  proud 
and  happy,  he  sallied  forth  one  day  as  an  individual 
freighter,  though  not  a  very  formidable  rival  of  Russell, 
Majors  &  Waddell. 

Alas  for  enterprises  started  on  borrowed  capital!  How 
many  of  them  end  in  disaster,  leaving  their  projectors  not 
only  penniless,  but  in  debt.  Our  young  frontiersman, 
whose  life  had  been  spent  in  protecting  the  property  of 
others,  was  powerless  to  save  his  own.  Wagon,  horses, 
and  freight  were  all  captured  by  Indians,  and  their  owner 
barely  escaped  with  his  life.  From  a  safe  covert  he 
watched  the  redskins  plunge  him  into  bankruptcy.  It  took 
him  several  years  to  recover,  and  he  has  often  remarked 
that  the  responsibility  of  his  first  business  venture  on  bor- 
rowed capital  aged  him  prematurely. 

The  nearest  station  to  the  scene  of  this  disaster  was 
Junction  City,  and  thither  he  tramped,  in  the  hope  of 
retrieving  his  fortunes.  There  he  met  Colonel  Hickok, 
and  in  the  pleasure  of  the  greeting  forgot  his  business  ruin 
for  a  space.  The  story  of  his  marriage  and  his  stirring 
adventures  as  a  landlord  and  lover  of  his  fellowman  were 
first  to  be  related,  and  when  these  were  commented  upon, 
and  his  old  friend  had  learned,  too,  of  the  wreck  of  the 
freighting  enterprise,  there  came  the  usual  inquiry: 

"And  now,  do  you  know  of  a  job  with  some  money 
in  it?" 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         139 

" There  isn't  exactly  a  fortune  in  it,"  said  Wild  Bill, 
"but  I'm  scouting  for  Uncle  Sam  at  Fort  Ellsworth.  The 
commandant  needs  more  scouts,  and  I  can  vouch  for  you 
as  a  good  one."  - 

"All  right,"  said  Will,  always  quick  in  decision;  "I'll 
go  along  with  you,  and  apply  for  a  job  at  once." 

He  was  pleased  to  have  Colonel  Hickok's  recommenda- 
tion, but  it  turned  out  that  he  did  not  need  it,  as  his  own 
reputation  had  preceded  him.  The  commandant  of  the 
fort  was  glad  to  add  him  to  the  force.  The  territory  he 
had  to  scout  over  lay  between  Forts  Ellsworth  and 
Fletcher,  and  he  alternated  between  those  points  through- 
out the  winter. 

It  was  at  Fort  Fletcher,  in  the  spring  of  1867,  that  he 
fell  in  with  the  dashing  General  Custer,  and  the  friendship 
established  between  them  was  ended  only  by  the  death  of 
the  general  at  the  head  of  his  gallant  three  hundred. 

This  spring  was  an  exceedingly  wet  one,  and  the  fort, 
which  lay  upon  the  bank  of  Big  Creek,  was  so  damaged  by 
floods  that  it  was  abandoned.  A  new  fort  was  erected, 
some  distance  to  the  westward,  on  the  south  fork  of  the 
creek,  and  was  named  Fort  Hayes. 

Returning  one  day  from  an  extended  scouting  trip, 
Will  discovered  signs  indicating  that  Indians  in  consider- 
able force  were  in  the  neighborhood.  He  at  once  pushed 
forward  at  all  speed  to  report  the  news,  when  a  second  dis- 
covery took  the  wind  out  of  his  sails;  the  hostiles  were 
between  him  and  the  fort. 

At  that  moment  a  party  of  horsemen  broke  into  view, 
and  seeing  they  were  white  men,  Will  waited  their 
approach.  The  little  band  proved  to  be  General  Custer 
and  an  escort  of  ten,  en  route  from  Fort  Ellsworth  to  Fort 
Hayes. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Informed  by  Will  that  they  were  cut  off  by  Indians,  and 
that  the  only  hope  of  escape  lay  in  a  rapid  flank  movement, 
Custer' s  reply  was  a  terse: 

"Lead  on,  scout,  and  we'll  follow." 

Will  wheeled,  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  dashed 
away,  with  the  others  close  behind.  All  hands  were  suffi- 
ciently versed  in  Indian  warfare  to  appreciate  the  serious- 
ness of  their  position.  They  pursued  a  roundabout  trail, 
and  reached  the  fort  without  seeing  a  hostile,  but  learned 
from  the  reports  of  others  that  their  escape  had  been  a 
narrow  one. 

Custer  was  on  his  way  to  Larned,  sixty  miles  distant, 
and  he  needed  a  guide.  He  requested  that  Will  be 
assigned  to  the  position,  so  pleased  was  he  by  the  service 
already  rendered. 

' 'The  very  man  I  proposed  to  send  with  you,  General," 
said  the  commandant,  who  knew  well  the  keen  desire  of 
the  Indians  to  get  at  "Yellow  Hair,"  as  they  called 
Custer.  "Cody  knows  this  part  of  the  country  like  a 
book;  he  is  up  to  all  the  Indian  games,  and  he  is  as  full  of 
resources  as  a  nut  is  of  meat." 

At  daybreak  the  start  was  made,  and  it  was  planned  to 
cover  the  sixty  miles  before  nightfall.  Will  was  mounted 
on  a  mouse-colored  mule,  to  which  he  was  much  attached, 
and  in  which  he  had  every  confidence.  Custer,  however, 
was  disposed  to  regard  the  lowly  steed  in  some  disdain. 

"Do  you  think,  Cody,  that  mule  can  set  the  pace  to 
reach  Larned  in  a  day?"  he  asked. 

"When  you  get  to  Larned,  General,"  smiled  Will,  "the 
mule  and  I  will  be  with  you." 

Custer  said  no  more  for  a  while,  but  the  pace  he  set 
was  eloquent,  and  the  mouse-colored  mule  had  to  run 
under  "forced  draught"  to  keep  up  with  the  procession. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         H1 

It  was  a  killing  pace,  too,  for  the  horses,  which  did  not 
possess  the  staying  power  of  the  mule.  Will  was  half 
regretting  that  he  had  ridden  the  animal,  and  was  wonder- 
ing how  he  could  crowd  on  another  pound  or  two  of  steam, 
when,  suddenly  glancing  at  Custer,  he  caught  a  gleam  of 
mischief  in  the  general's  eye.  Plainly  the  latter  was  seek- 
ing to  compel  an  acknowledgment  of  error,  but  Will  only 
patted  the  mouse-colored  flanks. 

Fifteen  miles  were  told  off;  Custer's  thoroughbred 
horse  was  still  in  fine  fettle,  but  the  mule  had  got  the 
second  of  its  three  or  four  winds,  and  was  ready  for  a  cen- 
tury run. 

1  'Can  you  push  along  a  little  faster,  General?"  asked 
Will,  slyly. 

"If  that  mule  of  yours  can  stand  it,  go  ahead,"  was  the 
reply 

To  the  general's  surprise,  the  long-eared  animal  did  go 
ahead,  and  when  the  party  got  into  the  hills,  and  the  trav- 
eling grew  heavy,  it  set  a  pace  that  seriously  annoyed 
the  general's  thoroughbred. 

Fifteen  miles  more  were  pounded  out,  and  a  halt  was 
called  for  luncheon.  The  horses  needed  the  rest,  but  the 
mouse-colored  mule  wore  an  impatient  expression.  Hav- 
ing got  its  third  wind,  it  wanted  to  use  it. 

"Well,  General,"  said  Will,  when  they  swung  off  on 
the  trail  again,  "what  do  you  think  of  my  mount?" 

Custer  laughed.  "It's  not  very  handsome,"  said  he, 
"but  it  seems  to  know  what  it's  about,  and  so  does  the 
rider.  You're  a  fine  guide,  Cody.  Like  the  Indian,  you 
seem  to  go  by  instinct,  rather  than  by  trails  and  landmarks." 

The  praise  of  Custer  was  sweeter  to  the  young  scout 
than  that  of  any  other  officer  on  the  plains  would  have 
been. 


H2         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

At  just  four  o'clock  the  mouse-colored  mule  jogged 
into  Fort  Larned  and  waved  a  triumphant  pair  of  ears.  A 
short  distance  behind  rode  Custer,  on  a  thoroughly  tired 
thoroughbred,  while  the  escort  was  strung  along  the  trail 
for  a  mile  back. 

''Cody,"  laughed  the  general,  "that  remarkable  quad- 
ruped of  yours  looks  equal  to  a  return  trip.  Our  horses 
are  pretty  well  fagged  out,  but  we  have  made  a  quick  trip 
and  a  good  one.  You  brought  us  'cross  country  straight 
as  the  crow  flies,  and  that's  the  sort  of  service  I  appreciate. 
Any  time  you're  in  need  of  work,  report  to  me.  I'll  see 
that  you're  kept  busy." 

It  was  Custer's  intention  to  remain  at  Fort  Larned  for 
some  time,  and  Will,  knowing  that  he  was  needed  at 
Hayes,  tarried  only  for  supper  and  a  short  rest  before 
starting  back. 

When  night  fell,  he  proceeded  warily.  On  the  way  out 
he  had  directed  Custer's  attention  to  signs  denoting  the 
near-by  presence  of  a  small  band  of  mounted  Indians. 

Suddenly  a  distant  light  flashed  into  view,  but  before 
he  could  check  his  mule  it  had  vanished.  He  rode  back  a 
few  paces,  and  the  light  reappeared.  Evidently  it  was  vis- 
ible through  some  narrow  space,  and  the  matter  called  for 
investigation.  Will  dismounted,  hitched  his  mule,  and 
went  forward. 

After  he  had  covered  half  a  mile,  he  found  himself 
between  two  sandhills,  the  pass  leading  into  a  little  hollow, 
within  which  were  a  large  number  of  Indians  camped  around 
the  fire  whose  light  he  had  followed.  The  ponies  were  in 
the  background. 

Will's  position  was  somewhat  ticklish,  as,  without  a 
doubt,  an  Indian  sentinel  was  posted  in  the  pass;  yet  it 
was  his  duty,  as  he  understood  it,  to  obtain  a  measurably 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          H3 

accurate  estimate  of  the  number  of  warriors  in  the  band. 
Himself  a  very  Indian  in  stealth,  he  drew  nearer  the 
camp-fire,  when  suddenly  there  rang  out  upon  the  night 
air — not  a  rifle-shot,  but  the  unearthly  braying  of  his 
mule. 

Even  in  the  daylight,  amid  scenes  of  peace  and  tran- 
quillity, the  voice  of  a  mule  falls  short  of  the  not  enchant- 
ing music  of  the  bagpipe.  At  night  in  the  wilderness, 
when  every  nerve  is  keyed  up  to  the  snapping-point,  the 
sound  is  simply  appalling. 

Will  was  startled,  naturally,  but  the  Indians  were 
thrown  into  dire  confusion.  They  smothered  the  camp- 
fires  and  scattered  for  cover,  while  a  sentinel  sprang  up 
from  behind  a  rock  not  twenty  feet  from  Will,  and  was  off 
like  a  deer. 

The  scout  held  his  ground  till  he  had  made  a  good 
guess  at  the  number  of  Indians  in  the  party;  then  he  ran 
for  his  mule,  whose  voice,  raised  in  seeming  protest,  guided 
him  unerringly. 

As  he  neared  the  animal  he  saw  that  two  mounted 
Indians  had  laid  hold  of  it,  and  were  trying  to  induce  it  to 
follow  them ;  but  the  mule,  true  to  tradition  and  its  master, 
stubbornly  refused  to  budge  a  foot. 

It  was  a  comical  tableau,  but  Will  realized  that  it  was 
but  a  step  from  farce  to  tragedy.  A  rifle-shot  dropped 
one  of  the  Indians,  and  the  other  darted  off  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

Another  bray  from  the  mule,  this  time  a  paean  of  tri- 
umph, as  Will  jumped  into  the  saddle,  with  an  arrow  from 
the  bow  of  the  wounded  Indian  through  his  coat-sleeve. 
He  declined  to  return  the  fire  of  the  wounded  wretch,  and 
•-ode  away  into  the  timber,  while  all  around  the  sound  of 
Indians  in  pursuit  came  to  his  ears. 


144         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Now,  my  mouse-colored  friend,"  said  Will,  "if  you 
win  this  race  your  name  is  Custer. " 

The  mule  seemed  to  understand;  at  all  events,  it  settled 
down  to  work  that  combined  the  speed  of  a  racer  with  the 
endurance  of  a  buffalo.  The  Indians  shortly  abandoned 
the  pursuit,  as  they  could  not  see  their  game. 

Will  reached  Fort  Hayes  in  the  early  morning,  to  report 
the  safe  arrival  of  Custer  at  Larned  and  the  discovery  of 
the  Indian  band,  which  he  estimated  at  two  hundred  braves. 
The  mule  received  "honorable  mention"  in  his  report,  and 
was  brevetted  a  thoroughbred. 

The  colonel  prepared  to  dispatch  troops  against  the 
Indians,  and  requested  Will  to  guide  the  expedition,  if  he 
were  sufficiently  rested,  adding,  with  a  smile: 

"You  may  ride  your  mule  if  you  like." 

"No,  thank  you,"  laughed  Will.  "It  isn't  safe,  sir,  to 
hunt  Indians  with  an  animal  that  carries  a  brass-band 
attachment." 

Captain  George  A.  Armes,  of  the  Tenth  Cavalry,  was 
to  command  the  expedition,  which  comprised  a  troop  of 
colored  cavalry  and  a  howitzer.  As  the  command  lined 
up  for  the  start,  a  courier  on  a  foam-splashed  horse  rode 
up  with  the  news  that  the  workmen  on  the  Kansas  Pacific 
Railroad  had  been  attacked  by  Indians,  six  of  them  killed, 
and  over  a  hundred  horses  and  mules  and  a  quantity  of 
stores  stolen. 

The  troops  rode  away,  the  colored  boys  panting  for  a 
chance  at  the  redskins,  and  Captain  Armes  more  than  will- 
ing to  gratify  them. 

At  nightfall  the  command  made  camp  near  the  Saline 
River,  at  which  point  it  was  expected  to  find  the  Indians. 
Before  dawn  they  were  in  the  saddle  again,  riding  straight 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         H5 

across  country,  regardless  of  trails,  until  the  river  was  come 
up  with. 

Will's  judgment  was  again  verified  by  the  discovery  of 
a  large  camp  of  hostiles  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream. 
The  warriors  were  as  quick  of  eye,  and  as  they  greatly 
outnumbered  the  soldiers,  and  were  emboldened  by  the 
success  of  their  late  exploit,  they  did  not  wait  the  attack, 
but  came  charging  across  the  river. 

They  were  nearly  a  mile  distant,  and  Captain  Armes 
had  time  to  plant  the  howitzer  on  a  little  rise  of  ground. 
Twenty  men  were  left  to  handle  it.  The  rest  of  the  com- 
mand advanced  to  the  combat. 

They  were  just  at  the  point  of  attack  when  a  fierce  yell- 
ing was  heard  in  the  rear,  and  the  captain  discovered  that 
his  retreat  to  the  gun  was  cut  off  by  another  band  of  reds, 
and  that  he  was  between  two  fires.  His  only  course  was 
to  repulse  the  enemy  in  front.  If  this  were  done,  and  the 
colored  gunners  did  not  flee  before  the  overwhelming  num- 
bers, he  might  unite  his  forces  by  another  charge. 

The  warriors  came  on  with  their  usual  impetuosity, 
whooping  and  screaming,  but  they  met  such  a  raking  fire 
from  the  disciplined  troops  that  they  fell  back  in  disorder. 
Just  then  the  men  at  the  howitzer  opened  fire.  The 
effect  of  this  field-piece  on  the  children  of  the  plains  was 
magical — almost  ludicrous.  A  veritable  stampede  followed. 

" Follow  me!"  shouted  Captain  Armes,  galloping  in  pur- 
suit ;  but  in  their  eagerness  to  give  chase  the  troops  fell  into 
such  disorder  that  a  bugle-blast  recalled  them  before  any 
further  damage  was  done  the  flying  foe.  The  Indians  kept 
right  along,  however;  they  were  pretty  badly  frightened. 

Captain  Armes  was  somewhat  chagrined  that  he  had  no 
prisoners,  but  there  was  consolation  in  taking  back  nearly 


i4<S  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

all  the  horses  that  had  been  stolen.  These  were  found 
picketed  at  the  camp  across  the  river,  where  likely  they 
had  been  forgotten  by  the  Indians  in  their  flight. 

Shortly  after  this,  Will  tried  his  hand  at  land  specula- 
tion. During  one  of  his  scouting  trips  to  Fort  Harker,  he 
visited  Ellsworth,  a  new  settlement,  three  miles  from  the 
fort.  There  he  met  a  man  named  Rose,  who  had  a  grad- 
ing contract  for  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad,  near  Fort 
Hayes.  Rose  had  bought  land  at  a  point  through  which 
the  railroad  was  to  run,  and  proposed  staking  it  out  as  a 
town,  but  he  needed  a  partner  in  the  enterprise. 

The  site  was  a  good  one.  Big  Creek  was  hard  by,  and 
it  was  near  enough  to  the  fort  to  afford  settlers  reasonable 
security  against  Indian  raids.  Will  regarded  the  enterprise 
favorably.  Besides  the  money  sent  home  each  month,  he 
had  put  by  a  small  sum,  and  this  he  invested  in  the  part- 
nership with  Rose. 

The  town  site  was  surveyed  and  staked  off  into  lots;  a 
cabin  was  erected,  and  stocked  with  such  goods  as  are 
needed  on  the  frontier,  and  the  budding  metropolis  was 
weighted  with  the  classic  name  of  Rome. 

As  an  encourgement  to  settlers,  a  lot  was  offered  to  any 
one  that  would  agree  to  erect  a  building.  The  proprietors, 
of  course,  reserved  the  choicest  lots. 

Rome  boomed.  Two  hundred  cabins  went  up  in  less 
than  sixty  days.  Mr.  Rose  and  Will  shook  hands  and 
complimented  each  other  on  their  penetration  and  business 
sagacity.  They  were  coming  millionaires,  they  said.  Alas! 
they  were  but  babes  in  the  woods. 

One  day  Dr.  W.  E.  Webb  alighted  in'  Rome.  He  was 
a  gentleman  of  most  amiable  exterior,  and  when  he  entered 
the  store  of  Rose  &  Cody  they  prepared  to  dispose  of  a 
large  bill  of  goods.  But  Dr.  Webb  was  not  buying  gro- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         M7 

ceries.  He  chatted  a  while  about  the  weather  and  Rome, 
and  then  suggested  that  the  firm  needed  a  third  partner. 
But  this  was  the  last  thing  the  prospective  millionaires  had 
in  mind,  and  the  suggestion  of  their  visitor  was  mildly  but 
firmly  waived. 

Dr.  Webb  was  not  a  gentleman  to  insist  upon  a  sugges- 
tion. He  was  locating  towns  for  the  Kansas  Pacific  Rail- 
road, he  said,  and  as  Rome  was  well  started,  he  disliked  to 
interfere  with  it;  but,  really,  the  company  must  have  a 
show. 

Neither  Mr.  Rose  nor  Will  had  had  experience  with 
the  power  of  a  big  corporation,  and  satisfied  that  they  had 
the  only  good  site  for  a  town  in  that  vicinity,  they  declared 
that  the  railroad  could  not  help  itself. 

Dr.  Webb  smiled  pleasantly,  and  not  without  compas- 
sion. "Look  out  for  yourselves,"  said  he,  as  he  took  his 
leave. 

And  within  sight  of  Rome  he  located  a  new  town. 
The  citizens  of  Rome  were  given  to  understand  that  the 
railroad  shops  would  be  built  at  the  new  settlement,  and 
that  there  was  really  nothing  to  prevent  it  becoming  the 
metropolis  of  Kansas. 

Rome  became  a  wilderness.  Its  citizens  stampeded  to 
the  new  town,  and  Mr.  Rose  and  Will  revised  their 
estimate  of  their  penetration  and  business  sagacity. 

Meantime,  the  home  in  Leavenworth  had  been  glad- 
dened by  the  birth  of  a  little  daughter,  whom  her  father 
named  Arta.  As  it  was  impossible  for  Will  to  return  for 
some  months,  it  was  planned  that  the  mother,  the  baby, 
and  I  should  make  a  visit  to  the  St.  Louis  home.  This  was 
accomplished  safely;  and  while  the  grandparents  were  en- 
raptured with  the  baby,  I  was  enjoying  the  delight  of  a 
first  visit  to  a  large  city. 


148         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

While  the  new  town  of  Rome  was  regarded  as  an 
assured  success  by  Will,  he  had  journeyed  to  St.  Louis  after 
his  wife  and  little  one.  They  proceeded  with  him  to  the 
cozy  cabin  home  he  had  fitted  up,  while  I  went  back  to 
Leavenworth. 

After  the  fall  of  Rome  the  little  frontier  home  was  no 
longer  the  desirable  residence  that  Will's  dreams  had 
pictured  it,  and  as  Rome  passed  into  oblivion  the  little 
family  returned  to  St.  Louis. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HOW   THE   SOBRIQUET    OF   " BUFFALO    BILL"    WAS   WON. 

IN  frontier  days  a  man  had  but  to  ask  for  work  to  get  it. 
There  was  enough  and  to  spare  for  every  one.  The  work 
that  paid  best  was  the  kind  that  suited  Will,  it  mattered 
not  how  hard  or  dangerous  it  might  be. 

At  the  time  Rome  fell,  the  work  on  the  Kansas  Pacific 
Railroad  was  pushing  forward  at  a  rapid  rate,  and  the 
junior  member  of  the  once  prosperous  firm  of  Rose  &  Cody 
saw  a  new  field  of  activity  open  for  him — that  of  buffalo- 
hunting.  Twelve  hundred  men  were  employed  on  the 
railroad  construction,  and  Goddard  Brothers,  who  had 
undertaken  to  board  the  vast  crew,  were  hard  pressed  to 
obtain  fresh  meat.  To  supply  this  indispensable,  buffalo- 
hunters  were  employed,  and  as  Will  was  known  to  be  an 
expert  buffalo-slayer,  Goddard  Brothers  were  glad  to  add 
him  to  their  "commissary  staff."  His  contract  with  them 
called  for  an  average  of  twelve  buffaloes  daily,  for  which 
he  was  to  receive  five  hundred  dollars  a  month.  It  was 
"good  pay,"  the  desired  feature,  but  the  work  was  hard 
and  hazardous.  He  must  first  scour  the  country  for  his 
game,  with  a  good  prospect  always  of  finding  Indians 
instead  of  buffalo;  then,  when  the  game  was  shot,  he  must 
oversee  its  cutting  and  dressing,  and  look  after  the  wagons 
that  transported  it  to  the  camp  where  the  workmen  messed. 
It  was  while  working  under  this  contract  that  he  acquired 
the  sobriquet  of  "Buffalo  Bill."  It  clung  to  him  ever 

149 


15°         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

after,  and  he  wore  it  with  more  pride  than  he  would  have 
done  the  title  of  prince  or  grand  duke.  Probably  there 
are  thousands  of  people  to-day  who  know  him  by  that 
name  only. 

At  the  outset  he  procured  a  trained  buffalo-hunting 
horse,  which  went  by  the  unconventional  name  of  "Brig- 
ham,"  and  from  the  government  he  obtained  an  improved 
breech-loading  needle-gun,  which,  in  testimony  of  its  mur- 
derous qualities,  he  named  "Lucretia  Borgia." 

Buffaloes  were  usually  plentiful  enough,  but  there  were 
tfmes  when  the  camp  supply  of  meat  ran  short.  During 
one  of  these  dull  spells,  when  the  company  was  pressed  for 
horses,  Brigham  was  hitched  to  a  scraper.  One  can 
imagine  his  indignation.  A  racer  dragging  a  street-car 
would  have  no  more  just  cause  for  rebellion  than  a  buffalo- 
hunter  tied  to  a  work  implement  in  the  company  of  stupid 
horses  that  never  had  a  thought  above  a  plow,  a  hay-rake, 
or  a  scraper.  Brigham  expostulated,  and  in  such  plain 
language,  that  Will,  laughing,  was  on  the  point  of  unhitch- 
ing him,  when  a  cry  went  up — the  equivalent  of  a  whaler's 
" There  she  blows!" — that  a  herd  of  buffaloes  was  coming 
over  the  hill. 

Brigham  and  the  scraper  parted  company  instantly,  and 
Will  mounted  him  bareback,  the  saddle  being  at  the  camp, 
a  mile  away.  Shouting  an  order  to  the  men  to  follow  him 
with  a  wagon  to  take  back  the  meat,  he  galloped  toward 
the  game. 

There  were  other  hunters  that  day.  Five  officers  rode 
out  from  the  neighboring  fort,  and  joined  Will  while  wait- 
ing for  the  buffaloes  to  come  up.  They  were  recent  arrivals 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  their  shoulder-straps  indi- 
cated that  one  was  a  captain  and  the  others  were  lieuten- 
ants. They  did  not  know  " Buffalo  Bill."  They  saw 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         15* 

nothing  but  a  good-looking  young  fellow,  in  the  dress  of  a 
working  man,  astride  a  not  handsome  horse,  which  had 
a  blind  bridle  and  no  saddle.  It  was  not  a  formidable- 
looking  hunting  outfit,  and  the  captain  was  disposed  to  be 
a  trifle  patronizing. 

"Hello!"  he  called  out.  "I  see  you're  after  the  same 
game  we  are." 

"Yes,  sir,"  returned  Will.  "Our  camp's  out  of  fresh 
meat." 

The  officer  ran  a  critical  eye  over  Brigham.  "Do  you 
expect  to  run  down  a  buffalo  with  a  horse  like  that?" 
said  he. 

"Why,"  said  Will,  innocently,  "are  buffaloes  pretty 
speedy?" 

"Speedy?  It  takes  a  fast  horse  to  overhaul  those  ani- 
mals on  the  open  prairie." 

"Does  it?"  said  Will;  and  the  officer  did  not  see  the 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  Nothing  amuses  a  man  more  than  to 
be  instructed  on  a  matter  that  he  knows  thoroughly,  and 
concerning  which  his  instructor  knows  nothing.  Probably 
every  one  of  the  officers  had  yet  to  shoot  his  first  buffalo. 

"Come  along  with  us,"  offered  the  captain,  graciously. 
"We're  going  to  kill  a  few  for  sport,  and  all  we  care  for 
are  the  tongues  and  a  chunk  of  the  tenderloin ;  you  -can 
have  the  rest." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Will.     "I'll  follow  along." 

There  were  eleven  buffaloes  in  the  herd,  and  the  officers 
started  after  them  as  if  they  had  a  sure  thing  on  the  entire 
number.  Will  noticed  that  the  game  was  pointed  toward 
a  creek,  and  understanding  "the  nature  of  the  beast," 
started  for  the  water,  to  head  them  off. 

As  the  herd  went  past  him,  with  the  military  quintet 
five  hundred  yards  in  the  rear,  he  gave  Brigham 's  blind 


152  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

bridle  a  twitch,  and  in  a  few  jumps  the  trained  hunter  was 
at  the  side  of  the  rear  buffalo ;  Lucretia  Borgia  spoke,  and 
the  buffalo  fell  dead.  Without  even  a  bridle  signal,  Brig- 
ham  was  promptly  at  the  side  of  the  next  buffalo,  not  ten 
feet  away,  and  this,  too,  fell  at  the  first  shot.  The 
maneuver  was  repeated  until  the  last  buffalo  went  down. 
Twelve  shots  had  been  fired;  then  Brigham,  who  never 
wasted  his  strength,  stopped.  The  officers  had  not  had 
even  a  shot  at  the  game.  Astonishment  was  written  on 
their  faces  as  they  rode  up. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Will,  courteously,  as  he  dis- 
mounted, "allow  me  to  present  you  with  eleven  tongues 
and  as  much  of  the  tenderloin  as  you  wish." 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "I  never  saw  any- 
thing like  that  before.  Who  are  you,  anyway?" 

"Bill  Cody's  my  name." 

"Well,  Bill  Cody,  you  know  how  to  kill  buffalo,  and 
that  horse  of  yours  has  some  good  running  points,  after  all." 

"One  or  two,"  smiled  Will. 

Captain  Graham — as  his  name  proved  to  be — and  his 
companions  were  a  trifle  sore  over  missing  even  the  oppor- 
tunity of  a  shot,  but  they  professed  to  be  more  than  repaid 
for  their  disappointment  by  witnessing  a  feat  they  had  not 
supposed  possible  in  a  white  man — hunting  buffalo  without 
a  saddle,  bridle,  or  reins.  Will  explained  that  Brigham 
knew  more  about  the  business  than  most  two-legged 
hunters.  All  the  rider  was  expected  to  do  was  to  shoot 
the  buffalo.  If  the  first  shot  failed,  Brigham  allowed 
another;  if  this,  too,  failed,  Brigham  lost  patience,  and 
was  as  likely  as  not  to  drop  the  matter  then  and  there. 

It  was  this  episode  that  fastened  the  name  of  "Buffalo 
Bill"  upon  Will,  and  learning  of  it,  the  friends  of  Billy 
Comstock,  chief  of  scouts  at  Fort  Wallace,  filed  a  protest. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          153 

Comstock,  they  said,  was  Cody's  superior  as  a  buffalo- 
hunter.  So  a  match  was  arranged  to  determine  whether  it 
should  be  "Buffalo  Bill"  Cody  or  "Buffalo  Bill"  Comstock. 

The  hunting-ground  was  fixed  near  Sheridan,  Kansas, 
and  quite  a  crowd  of  spectators  was  attracted  by  the  news 
of  the  contest.  Officers,  soldiers,  plainsmen,  and  railroad- 
men took  a  day  off  to  see  the  sport,  and  one  excursion 
party,  including  many  ladies,  among  them  Louise,  came 
up  from  St.  Louis. 

Referees  were  appointed  to  follow  each  man  and  keep 
a  tally  of  the  buffaloes  slain.  Comstock  was  mounted  on 
his  favorite  horse,  and  carried  a  Henry  rifle  of  large  caliber. 
Brigham  and  Lucretia  went  with  Will.  The  two  hunters 
rode  side  by  side  until  the  first  herd  was  sighted  and  the 
word  given,  when  off  they  dashed  to  the  attack,  separating 
to  the  right  and  left.  In  this  first  trial  Will  killed  thirty- 
eight  and  Comstock  twenty-three.  They  had  ridden 
miles,  and  the  carcasses  of  the  dead  buffaloes  were  strung 
all  over  the  prairie.  Luncheon  was  served  at  noon,  and 
scarcely  was  it  over  when  another  herd  was  sighted,  com- 
posed mainly  of  cows  with  their  calves.  The  damage  to 
this  herd  was  eighteen  and  fourteen,  in  favor  of  Cody. 

In  those  days  the  prairies  were  alive  with  buffaloes,  and 
a  third  herd  put  in  an  appearance  before  the  rifle-barrels 
were  cooled.  In  order  to  give  Brigham  a  share  of  the 
glory,  Will  pulled  off  saddle  and  bridle,  and  advanced 
bareback  to  the  slaughter. 

That  closed  the  contest.  Score,  sixty-nine  to  forty- 
eight.  Comstock's  friends  surrendered,  and  Cody  was 
dubbed  ''Champion  Buffalo  Hunter  of  the  Plains." 

The  heads  of  the  buffaloes  that  fell  in  this  hunt  were 
mounted  by  the  Kansas  Pacific  Company,  and  distributed 
about  the  country,  as  advertisements  of  the  region  the  new 


154         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

road  was  traversing.  Meanwhile,  Will  continued  hunting 
for  the  Kansas  Pacific  contractors,  and  during  the  year  and 
a  half  that  he  supplied  them  with  fresh  meat  he  killed  four 
thousand  two  hundred  and  eighty  buffaloes.  But  when 
the  railroad  reached  Sheridan  it  was  decided  to  build  no 
farther  at  that  time,  and  Will  was  obliged  to  look  for  other 
work. 

The  Indians  had  again  become  so  troublesome  that  a 
general  war  threatened  all  along  the  border,  and  General 
P.  H.  Sheridan  came  West  to  personally  direct  operations. 
He  took  up  his  quarters  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  but  the  In- 
dian depredations  becoming  more  widespread,  he  trans- 
ferred his  quarters  to  Fort  Hayes,  then  the  terminus  of  the 
Kansas  Pacific  Railroad.  Will  was  then  in  the  employ  of 
the  quartermaster's  department  at  Fort  Larned,  but  was 
sent  with  an  important  dispatch  to  General  Sheridan  an- 
nouncing that  the  Indians  near  Larned  were  preparing  to 
decamp.  The  distance  between  Larned  and  Hayes  was 
sixty-five  miles,  through  a  section  infested  with  Indians, 
but  Will  tackled  it,  and  reached  the  commanding  General 
without  mishap. 

Shortly  afterward  it  became  necessary  to  send  dis- 
patches from  Fort  Hayes  to  Fort  Dodge.  Ninety-five 
miles  of  country  lay  between,  and  every  mile  of  it  was 
dangerous  ground.  Fort  Dodge  was  surrounded  by  Indi- 
ans, and  three  scouts  had  lately  been  killed  while  trying  to 
get  dispatches  through,  but  Will's  confidence  in  himself  or 
his  destiny  was  unshakable,  and  he  volunteered  to  take 
the  dispatches,  as  far,  at  least,  as  the  Indians  would 
let  him. 

"It  is  a  dangerous  undertaking,"  said  General  Sheridan, 
"but  it  is  most  important  that  the  dispatches  should  go 
through;  so,  if  you  are  willing  to  risk  it,  take  the  best 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         155 

horse  you  can  find,  and  the  sooner  you  start  the 
better." 

Within  an  hour  the  scout  was  in  the  saddle.  At  the 
outset  Will  permitted  his  horse  to  set  his  own  pace,  for  in 
case  of  pursuit  he  should  want  the  animal  fresh  enough  to 
at  least  hold  his  own.  But  no  pursuit  materialized,  and 
when  the  dawn  came  up  he  had  covered  seventy  miles, 
and  reached  a  station  on  Coon  Creek,  manned  by  colored 
troops.  Here  he  delivered  a  letter  to  Major  Cox,  the 
officer  in  command,  and  after  eating  breakfast,  took  a  fresh 
horse,  and  resumed  his  journey  before  the  sun  was  above 
the  plain. 

Fort  Dodge  was  reached,  the  dispatches  delivered  by 
nine  o'clock,  and  Will  turned  in  for  a  needed  sleep.  When 
he  awoke,  he  was  assured  by  John  Austin,  chief  of  the 
scouts  at  Dodge,  that  his  coming  through  unharmed  from 
Fort  Hayes  was  little  short  of  a  miracle.  He  was  also 
assured  that  a  journey  to  his  own  headquarters,  Fort 
Larned,  would  be  even  more  ticklish  than  his  late  ride,  as 
the  hostiles  were  especially  thick  in  that  direction.  But 
the  officer  in  command  at  Dodge  desired  to  send  dispatches 
to  Larned,  and  as  none  of  the  other  scouts  were  willing  to 
take  them,  Will  volunteered  his  services. 

"Larned's  my  headquarters,"  said  he,  "and  I  must  go 
there  anyway;  so  if  you'll  give  me  a  good  horse,  I'll  take 
your  dispatches." 

"We  haven't  a  decent  horse  left,"  said  the  officer; 
"but  you  can  take  your  pick  of  some  fine  government 
mules." 

Will  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  Another  race  on 
mule-back  with  Indians  was  not  an  inviting  prospect. 
There  were  very  few  mules  like  unto  his  quondam  mouse- 
colored  mount.  But  he  succumbed  to  the  inevitable, 


I56         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

picked  out  the  most  enterprising  looking  mule  in  the 
bunch,  and  set  forth.  And  neither  he  nor  the  mule 
guessed  what  was  in  store  for  each  of  them. 

At  Coon  Creek  Will  dismounted  for  a  drink  of  water, 
and  the  mule  embraced  the  opportunity  to  pull  away,  and 
start  alone  on  the  wagon-trail  to  Larned.  Will  did  not 
suspect  that  he  should  have  any  trouble  in  overtaking  the 
capricious  beast,  but  at  the  end  of  a  mile  he  was  somewhat 
concerned.  He  had  threatened  and  entreated,  raged  and 
cajoled.  'Twas  all  wasted.  The  mule  was  as  deaf  to 
prayer  as  to  objurgation.  It  browsed  contentedly  along 
the  even  tenor  of  its  way,  so  near  and  yet  so  far  from  the 
young  man,  who,  like  "panting  time,  toii'd  after  it  in 
vain."  And  Larned  much  more  than  twenty  miles  away. 

What  the  poet  calls  "the  golden  exhalations  of  the 
dawn"  began  to  warm  the  gray  of  the  plain.  The  sun  was 
in  the  roots  of  the  grass.  Four  miles  away  the  lights  of 
Larned  twinkled.  The  only  blot  on  a  fair  landscape  was 
the  mule — in  the  middle  distance.  But  there  was  a  wicked 
gleam  in  the  eye  of  the  footsore  young  man  in  the  fore- 
ground. 

Boom !  The  sunrise  gun  at  the  fort.  The  mule  threw 
back  its  head,  waved  its  ears,  and  poured  forth  a  song  of 
triumph,  a  loud,  exultant  bray. 

Crack!  Will's  rifle.  Down  went  the  mule.  It  had 
made  the  fatal  mistake  of  gloating  over  its  villainy.  Never 
again  would  it  jeopardize  the  life  of  a  rider. 

It  had  been  a  thirty-five-mile  walk,  and  every  bone  in 
Will's  body  ached.  His  shot  alarmed  the  garrison,  but  he 
was  soon  on  the  ground  with  the  explanation;  and  after 
turning  over  his  dispatches,  he  sought  his  bed. 

During  the  day  General  Hazen  returned,  under  escort, 
from  Fort  Harker,  with  dispatches  for  Sheridan,  and  Will 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         157 

offered  to  be  the  bearer  of  them.  An  army  mule  was  sug- 
gested, but  he  declined  to  again  put  his  life  in  the  keeping 
of  such  an  animal.  A  good  horse  was  selected,  and  the 
journey  made  without  incident. 

General  Sheridan  was  roused  at  daylight  to  receive  the 
scout's  report,  and  praised  Will  warmly  for  having  under- 
taken and  safely  accomplished  three  such  long  and  danger- 
ous rides. 

"In  all,"  says  General  Sheridan,  in  his  Memoirs,  "Cody 
rode  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in  less  than  sixty  hours, 
and  such  an  exhibition  of  endurance  and  courage  was  more 
than  enough  to  convince  me  that  his  services  would  be  ex- 
tremely valuable  in  the  campaign ;  so  I  retained  him  at 
Fort  Hayes  until  the  battalion  of  Fifth  Cavalry  arrived, 
and  then  made  him  chief  of  scouts  for  that  regiment." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SATANTA,    CHIEF    OF   THE   KIOWAS. 

WITHIN  plain  view  of  Fort  Larned  lay  a  large  camp  of 
Kiowas  and  Comanches.  They  were  not  yet  bedaubed 
with  war  paint,  but  they  were  as  restless  as  panthers  in  a 
cage,  and  it  was  only  a  matter  of  days  when  they  would 
whoop  and  howl  with  the  loudest. 

The  principal  chief  of  the  Kiowas  was  Satanta,  a  pow- 
erful and  resourceful  warrior,  who,  because  of  remarkable 
talents  for  speech-making,  was  called  "The  Orator  of  the 
Plains."  Satanta  was  short  and  bullet-headed.  Hatred 
for  the  whites  swelled  every  square  inch  of  his  breast,  but 
he  had  the  deep  cunning  of  his  people,  with  some  especially 
fine  points  of  treachery  learned  from  dealings  with  dis- 
honest agents  and  traders.  There  probably  never  was  an 
Indian  so  depraved  that  he  could  not  be  corrupted  further 
by  association  with  a  rascally  white  man. 

When  the  Kiowas  were  friendly  with  the  government, 
Satanta  received  a  guest  with  all  the  magnificence  the  tribe 
afforded.  A  carpet  was  spread  for  the  white  man  to  sit 
upon,  and  a  folding  board  was  set  up  for  a  table.  The 
question  of  expense  never  intruded. 

Individually,  too,  Satanta  put  on  a  great  deal  of  style. 
Had  the  opportunity  come  to  him,  he  would  have  worn  a 
silk  hat  with  a  sack-coat,  or  a  dress  suit  in  the  afternoon. 
As  it  was,  he  produced  some  startling  effects  with  blankets 
and  feathers. 

158 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         159 

It  was  part  of  General  Hazen's  mission  to  Fort  Larned 
to  patch  up  a  treaty  with  the  outraged  Kiowas  and 
Comanches,  if  it  could  be  brought  about.  On  one  warm 
August  morning,  the  general  set  out  for  Fort  Zarah,  on  a 
tour  of  inspection.  Zarah  was  on  the  Arkansas,  in  what  is 
now  Barton  County,  Kansas.  An  early  start  was  made,  as 
it  was  desired  to  cover  the  thirty  miles  by  noon.  The 
general  rode  in  a  four-mule  army  ambulance,  with  an  escort 
of  ten  foot  soldiers,  in  a  four-mule  escort  wagon. 

After  dinner  at  Zarah  the  general  went  on  to  Fort 
Harker,  leaving  orders  for  the  scout  and  soldiers  to  return 
to  Larned  on  the  following  day.  But  as  there  was  nothing 
to  do  at  Fort  Zarah,  Will  determined  to  return  at  once;  so 
he  trimmed  the  sails  of  his  mule-ship,  and  squared  away 
for  Larned. 

The  first  half  of  the  journey  was  without  incident,  but 
when  Pawnee  Rock  was  reached,  events  began  to  crowd 
one  another.  Some  forty  Indians  rode  out  from  behind  the 
rock  and  surrounded  the  scout. 

"How?  How?"  they  cried,  as  they  drew  near,  and 
offered  their  hands  for  the  white  man's  salutation. 

The  braves  were  in  war  paint,  and  intended  mischief; 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  lost  by  returning  their  greet- 
ing, so  Will  extended  his  hand. 

One  warrior  seized  it  and  gave  it  a  violent  jerk;  another 
caught  the  mule's  bridle;  a  third  pulled  the  revolvers  from 
the  holsters;  a  fourth  snatched  the  rifle  from  across  the 
saddle;  while  a  fifth,  for  a  climax,  dealt  Will  a  blow  on  the 
head  with  a  tomahawk  that  nearly  stunned  him. 

Then  the  band  started  for  the  Arkansas  River,  lashing 
the  mule,  singing,  yelling,  and  whooping.  For  one  sup- 
posed to  be  stolid  and  taciturn,  the  Indian  makes  a  good 
deal  of  noise  at  times. 


160         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Across  the  river  was  a  vast  throng  of  warriors,  who  had 
finally  decided  to  go  on  the  war-path.  Will  and  his  captors 
forded  the  shallow  stream,  and  the  prisoner  was  conducted 
before  the  chiefs  of  the  tribe,  with  some  of  whom  he  was 
acquainted. 

His  head  throbbed  from  the  tomahawking,  but  his  wits 
were  still  in  working  order,  and  when  asked  by  Satanta 
where  he  had  been,  he  replied  that  he  had  been  out  search- 
ing for  "whoa-haws." 

He  knew  that  the  Indians  had  been  promised  a  herd  of 
"whoa-haws,"  as  they  termed  cattle,  and  he  knew,  too, 
that  the  herd  had  not  arrived,  and  that  the  Indians  had 
been  out  of  meat  for  several  weeks;  hence  he  hoped  to 
enlist  Satanta's  sympathetic  interest. 

He  succeeded.  Satanta  was  vastly  interested.  Where 
were  the  cattle?  Oh,  a  few  miles  back.  Will  had  been 
sent  forward  to  notify  the  Indians  that  an  army  of  sirloin 
steaks  was  advancing  upon  them. 

Satanta  was  much  pleased,  and  the  other  chiefs  were 
likewise  interested.  Did  General  Hazen  say  the  cattle 
were  for  them?  Was  there  a  chance  that  the  scout  was 
mistaken  ? 

Not  a  chance ;  and  with  becoming  dignity  Will  demanded 
a  reason  for  the  rough  treament  he  had  received. 

Oh,  that  was  all  a  joke,  Satanta  explained.  The  Indi- 
ans who  had  captured  the  white  chief  were  young  and 
frisky.  They  wished  to  see  whether  he  was  brave.  They 
were  simply  testing  him.  It  was  sport — just  a  joke. 

Will  did  not  offer  to  argue  the  matter.  No  doubt  an 
excellent  test  of  a  man's  courage  is  to  hit  him  over  the 
head  with  a  tomahawk.  If  he  lives  through  it,  he  is  brave 
as  Agamemnon.  But  Will  insisted  mildly  that  it  was  a 
rough  way  to  treat  friends;  whereupon  Satanta  read  the 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         161 

riot  act  to  his  high-spirited  young  men,  and  bade  them 
return  the  captured  weapons  to  the  scout. 

The  next  question  was,  were  there  soldiers  with  the 
cattle?  Certainly,  replied  Will;  a  large  party  of  soldiers 
were  escorting  the  succulent  sirloins.  This  intelligence 
necessitated  another  consultation.  Evidently  hostilities 
must  be  postponed  until  after  the  cattle  had  arrived. 
Would  Will  drive  the  cattle  to  them?  He  would  be 
delighted  to.  Did,  he  desire  that  the  chief's  young  men 
should  accompany  him?  No,  indeed.  The  soldiers,  also, 
were  high-spirited,  and  they  migh  test  the  bravery  of  the 
chief's  young  men  by  shooting  large  holes  in  them.  It 
would  be  much  better  if  the  scout  returned  alone. 

Satanta  agreed  with  him,  and  Will  recrossed  the  river 
without  molestation;  but,  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  he 
noted  a  party  of  ten  or  fifteen  young  braves  slowly  follow- 
ing him.  Satanta  was  an  extremely  cautious  chieftain. 

Will  rode  leisurely  up  the  gentle  slope  of  the  river's 
bank,  but  when  he  had  put  the  ridge  between  him  and  the 
Indian  camp  he  pointed  his  mule  westward,  toward  Fort 
Larned,  and  set  it  going  at  its  best  pace.  When  the  Indi- 
ans reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  from  where  they  could 
scan  the  valley,  in  which  the  advancing  cattle  were  sup- 
posed to  be,  there  was  not  a  horn  to  be  seen,  and  the  scout 
was  flying  in  an  opposite  direction. 

They  gave  chase,  but  the  mule  had  a  good  start,  and 
when  it  got  its  second  wind — always  necessary  in  a  mule — 
the  Indian  ponies  gained  but  slowly.  When  Ash  Creek, 
six  miles  from  Larned,  was  reached,  the  race  was  about 
even,  but  two  miles  farther  on,  the  Indians  were  uncom- 
fortably close  behind.  The  sunset  gun  at  the  fort  boomed 
a  cynical  welcome  to  the  man  four  miles  away,  flying 
toward  it  for  his  life. 


1 62         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

At  Pawnee  Fork,  two  miles  from  the  fort,  the  Indians 
had  crept  up  to  within  five  hundred  yards  But  here,  on 
the  farther  bank  of  the  stream,  Will  came  upon  a  govern- 
ment wagon  containing  half  a  dozen  soldiers  and  Denver 
Jim,  a  well-known  scout. 

The  team  was  driven  among  the  trees,  and  the  men  hid 
themselves  in  the  bushes,  and  when  the  Indians  came  along 
they  were  warmly  received.  Two  of  the  reds  were  killed; 
the  others  wheeled  and  rode  back  in  safety. 

In  1868  General  Sheridan  had  taken  command  of  all  the 
troops  in  the  field.  He  arranged  what  is  known  as  the 
winter  expeditions  against  the  Kiowas,  Comanches,  South- 
ern Cheyennes,  and  Arapahoes.  He  personally  com- 
manded the  expedition  which  left  Fort  Dodge,  with 
General  Custer  as  chief  of  cavalry.  General  Penrose 
started  for  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado,  and  General  Eugene  A. 
Carr  was  ordered  from  the  Republican  River  country, 
with  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  to  Fort  Wallace,  Kansas.  Will 
at  this  time  had  a  company  of  forty  scouts  with  General 
Carr's  command.  He  was  ordered  by  General  Sheridan, 
when  leaving  Fort  Lyon,  to  follow  the  trail  of  General 
Penrose's  command  until  it  was  overtaken.  General 
Carr  was  to  proceed  to  Fort  Lyon,  and  follow  on  the 
trail  of  General  Penrose,  who  had  started  from  there 
three  weeks  before,  when,  as  Carr  ranked  Penrose,  he 
would  then  take  command  of  both  expeditions.  It  was 
the  2 1st  of  November  when  Carr's  expedition  left  Fort 
Lyon.  The  second  day  out  they  encountered  a  terrible 
snow-storm  and  blizzard  in  a  place  they  christened  "  Freeze 
Out  Canon,"  by  which  name  it  is  still  known.  As  Pen- 
rose  had  only  a  pack-train  and  no  heavy  wagons,  and  the 
ground  was  covered  with  snow,  it  was  a  very  difficult  mat- 
ter to  follow  his  trail.  But  taking  his  general  course,  they 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         163 

finally  came  up  with  him  on  the  south  fork  of  the  Cana- 
dian River,  where  they  found  him  and  his  soldiers  in  a  sorry 
plight,  subsisting  wholly  on  buffalo-meat.  Their  animals 
had  all  frozen  to  death. 

General  Carr  made  what  is  known  as  a  supply  camp, 
leaving  Penrose's  command  and  some  of  his  own  disabled 
stock  therein.  Taking  with  him  the  Fifth  Cavalry  and  the 
best  horses  and  pack-mules,  he  started  south  toward  the 
main  fork  of  the  Canadian  River,  looking  for  the  Indians. 
He  was  gone  from  the  supply  camp  thirty  days,  but  could 
not  locate  the  main  band  of  Indians,  as  they  were  farther 
to  the  east,  where  General  Sheridan  had  located  them,  and 
had  sent  General  Custer  in  to  fight  them,  which  he  did,  in 
what  is  known  as  the  great  battle  of  Wichita. 

They  had  a  very  severe  winter,  and  returned  in  March 
to  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado. 

In  the  spring  of  1869,  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  ordered  to  the 
Department  of  the  Platte,  took  up  the  line  of  march  for 
Fort  McPherson,  Nebraska. 

It  was  a  large  command,  including  seventy-six  wagons 
for  stores,  ambulance  wagons,  and  pack-mules.  Those 
chief  in  authority  were  Colonel  Royal  (afterward  superseded 
by  General  Carr),  Major  Brown,  and  Captain  Sweetman. 

The  average  distance  covered  daily  was  only  ten  miles, 
and  when  the  troops  reached  the  Solomon  River  there  was 
no  fresh  meat  in  camp.  Colonel  Royal  asked  Will  to  look 
up  some  game. 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Will.  "Will  you  send  a  couple 
of  wagons  along  to,  fetch  in  the  meat?" 

"We'll  send  for  the  game,  Cody,  when  there's  some 
game  to  send  for,"  curtly  replied  the  colonel. 

That  settled  the  matter,  surely,  and  Will  rode  away, 
a  trifle  ruffled  in  temper. 


164         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

He  was  not  long  in  rounding  up  a  herd  of  seven  buffa- 
loes, and  he  headed  them  straight  for  camp.  As  he  drew 
near  the  lines,  he  rode  alongside  his  game,  and  brought 
down  one  after  another,  until  only  an  old  bull  remained. 
This  he  killed  in  almost  the  center  of  the  camp. 

The  charge  of  the  buffaloes  had  nearly  stampeded  the 
picketed  horses,  and  Colonel  Royal,  who,  with  the  other 
officers,  had  watched  the  hunt,  demanded,  somewhat 
angrily : 

"What  does  this  mean,  Cody?" 

"Why,"  said  Will,  "I  thought,  sir,  I'd  save  you  the 
trouble  of  sending  after  the  game." 

The  colonel  smiled,  though  perhaps  the  other  officers 
enjoyed  the  joke  more  than  he. 

At  the  north  fork  of  the  Beaver,  Will  discovered  a  large 
and  fresh  Indian  trail.  The  tracks  were  scattered  all  over 
the  valley,  showing  that  a  large  village  had  recently  passed 
that  way.  Will  estimated  that  at  least  four  hundred 
lodges  were  represented;  that  would  mean  from  twenty- 
five  hundred  to  three  thousand  warriors,  squaws,  and 
children. 

When  General  Carr  (who  had  taken  the  command)  got 
the  news,  he  followed  down  a  ravine  to  Beaver  Creek,  and 
here  the  regiment  went  into  camp.  Lieutenant  Ward  and 
a  dozen  men  were  detailed  to  accompany  Will  on  a  recon- 
noissance.  They  followed  Beaver  Creek  for  twelve  miles, 
and  then  the  lieutenant  and  the  scout  climbed  a  knoll  for  a 
survey  of  the  country.  One  glance  took  in  a  large  Indian 
village  some  three  miles  distant.  Thousands  of  ponies  were 
picketed  out,  and  small  bands  of  warriors  were  seen  return- 
ing from  the  hunt,  laden  with  buffalo-meat. 

"I  think,  Lieutenant,"  said  Will,  "that  we  have 
important  business  at  camp." 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         165 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  Ward.  "The  quicker  we  get 
out  of  here,  the  better." 

When  they  rejoined  the  men  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
Ward  dispatched  a  courier  to  General  Carr,  the  purpose  of 
the  lieutenant  being  to  follow  slowly  and  meet  the  troops 
which  he  knew  would  be  sent  forward. 

The  courier  rode  away  at  a  gallop,  but  in  a  few 
moments  came  riding  back,  with  three  Indians  at  his  horse's 
heels.  The  little  company  charged  the  warriors,  who 
turned  and  fled  for  the  village. 

/'Lieutenant,"  said  Will,  "give  me  that  note."  And 
as  it  was  passed  over,  he  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
started  for  the  camp. 

He  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  he  came 
upon  another  party  of  Indians,  returning  to  the  village  with 
buffalo-meat.  Without  stopping,  he  fired  a  long-range  shot 
at  them,  and  while  they  hesitated,  puzzled  by  the  action, 
he  galloped  past.  The  warriors  were  not  long  in  recovering 
from  their  surprise,  and  cutting  loose  their  meat,  followed; 
but  their  ponies  were  tired  from  a  long  hunt,  and  Will's 
fresh  horse  ran  away  from  them. 

When  General  Carr  received  the  lieutenant's  dispatch,  he 
ordered  the  bugler  to  sound  the  inspiring  "Boots  and  Sad- 
dles," and,  while  two  companies  remained  to  guard  the 
wagons,  the  rest  of  the  troops  hastened  against  the  Indians. 

Three  miles  out  they  were  joined  by  Lieutenant  Ward's 
company,  and  five  miles  more  brought  them  within  sight  of 
a  huge  mass  of  mounted  Indians  advancing  up  the  creek. 
These  warriors  were  covering  the  retreat  of  their  squaws, 
who  were  packing  up  and  getting  ready  for  hasty  flight. 

General  Carr  ordered  a  charge  on  the  red  line.  If  it 
were  broken,  the  cavalry  was  to  continue,  and  surround 
the  village.  The  movement  was  successfully  executed,  but 


1 66         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

one  officer  misunderstood  the  order,  and,  charging  on  the 
left  wing  of  the  hostiles,  was  speedily  hemmed  in  by  some 
three  hundred  redskins.  Reinforcements  were  dispatched 
to  his  relief,  but  the  plan  of  battle  was  spoiled,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  afternoon  was  spent  in  contesting  the 
ground  with  the  Indians,  who  fought  for  their  lodges, 
squaws,  and  children  with  desperate  and  dogged  courage. 
When  night  came  on,  the  wagon-trains,  which  had  been 
ordered  to  follow,  had  not  put  in  an  appearance,  and, 
though  the  regiment  went  back  to  look  for  them,  it  was 
nine  o'clock  before  they  were  reached. 

Camp  was  broken  at  daybreak,  and  the  pursuit  began, 
but  not  an  Indian  was  in  sight.  All  the  day  the  trail  was 
followed.  There  was  evidence  that  the  Indians  had  aban- 
doned everything  that  might  hinder  their  flight.  That 
night  the  regiment  camped  on  the  banks  of  the  Republican, 
and  the  next  morning  caught  a  distant  glimpse  of  the  foe. 

About  eleven  o'clock  a  charge  was  made  by  three  hun- 
dred mounted  warriors,  but  they  were  repulsed  with  con- 
siderable loss,  and  when  they  discovered  that  defeat  was 
certain,  they  evaded  further  pursuit  by  breaking  up  into 
companies  and  scattering  to  all  points  of  the  compass.  A 
large  number  of  ponies  were  collected  as  trophies  of  this 
expedition. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

WILL   MADE    CHIEF   OF   SCOUTS. 

IN  due  time  the  Fifth  Cavalry  reached  Fort  McPherson, 
which  became  its  headquarters  while  they  were  fitting  out 
a  new  expedition  to  go  into  the  Republican  River  country. 
At  this  time  General  Carr  recommended  to  General  Augur, 
who  was  in  command  of  the  Department,  that  Will  be 
made  chief  of  scouts  in  the  Department  of  the  Platte. 

Will's  fancy  had  been  so  taken  by  the  scenery  along  the 
line  of  march  that  he  proceeded  to  explore  the  country 
around  McPherson,  the  result  being  a  determination  to 
make  his  future  home  in  the  Platte  Valley. 

Shortly  after  reaching  the  fort,  the  scouts'  division  of 
the  Fifth  Cavalry  was  reinforced  by  Major  Frank  North 
and  three  companies  of  the  celebrated  Pawnee  scouts. 
These  became  the  most  interesting  and  amusing  objects  in 
camp,  partly  on  account  of  their  race,  but  mainly  because 
of  the  bizarre  dress  fashions  they  affected.  My  brother,  in 
his  autobiography,  describes  the  appearance  presented  by 
these  scouts  during  a  review  of  the  command  by  Brigadier- 
General  Duncan. 

The  regiment  made  a  fine  showing,  the  men  being  well 
drilled  and  thoroughly  versed  in  tactics.  The  Pawnees  also 
showed  up  well  on  drill,  but  their  full-dress  uniforms  were 
calculated  to  excite  even  the  army  horses  to  laughter. 
Regular  cavalry  suits  had  been  furnished  them,  but  no  two 
of  the  Pawnees  seemed  to  agree  as  to  the  correct  manner 

167 


168         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

in  which  the  various  articles  should  be  worn.  As  they  lined 
up  for  dress  parade,  some  of  them  wore  heavy  overcoats, 
others  discarded  even  pantaloons,  content  with  a  breech- 
clout.  Some  wore  large  black  hats,  with  brass  accouter- 
ments,  others  were  bareheaded.  Many  wore  the  panta- 
loons, but  declined  the  shirts,  while  a  few  of  the  more 
original  cut  the  seats  from  the  pantaloons,  leaving  only 
leggings.  Half  of  them  were  without  boots  or  moccasins, 
but  wore  the  clinking  spurs  with  manifest  pride. 

They  were  a  quaint  and  curious  lot,  but  drilled  remark- 
ably well  for  Indians,  and  obeyed  orders.  They  were 
devoted  to  their  white  chief,  Major  North,  who  spoke 
Pawnee  like  a  native,  and  they  were  very  proud  of  their 
position  in  the  United  States  army.  Good  soldiers  they 
made,  too — hard  riders,  crack  shots,  and  desperate  fighters. 

At  the  close  of  the  parade  and  review  referred  to,  the 
officers  and  the  ladies  attended  an  Indian  dance,  given  by 
the  Pawnees,  which  climaxed  a  rather  exciting  day. 

The  following  morning  an  expedition  moved  back  to 
the  Republican  River,  to  curb  the  high  spirits  of  a  band  of 
Sioux,  who  had  grown  boldly  troublesome.  This  was  the 
sort  of  service  the  Pawnees  welcomed,  as  they  and  the 
Sioux  were  hereditary  enemies. 

At  the  journey's  end,  camp  was  made  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Beaver,  and  the  Sioux  were  heard  from  within  the 
hour.  A  party  of  them  raided  the  mules  that  had  been 
taken  to  the  river,  and  the  alarm  was  given  by  a  herder, 
who  dashed  into  camp  with  an  arrow  sticking  in  his 
shoulder. 

Will  did  not  wait  to  saddle  his  horse,  but  the  Pawnees 
were  as  quick  as  he,  and  both  of  them  rather  surprised  the 
Sioux,  who  did  not  expect  such  a  swift  response.  Espe- 
cially were  they  surprised  to  find  themselves  confronted  by 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         169 

their  tribal  foe,  the  Pawnee,  and  they  fell  back  hastily, 
closely  pressed  by  Will  and  his  red  allies.  A  running  fight 
was  kept  up  for  fifteen  miles,  and  when  many  of  the  Sioux 
had  been  stretched  upon  the  plain  and  the  others  scattered, 
the  pursuing  party  returned  to  camp. 

Will  himself,  on  a  fine  horse,  had  been  somewhat 
chagrined  at  being  passed  in  the  chase  by  a  Pawnee  on  an 
inferior-looking  steed.  Upon  inquiring  of  Major  North,  he 
found  that  the  swifter  horse  was,  like  his  own,  government 
property.  The  Pawnee  was  much  attached  to  his  mount, 
but  he  was  also  fond  of  tobacco,  and  a  few  pieces  of  that 
commodity,  supplemented  by  some  other  articles,  induced 
him  to  exchange  horses.  Will  named  his  new  charge 
"Buckskin  Joe,"  and  rode  him  for  four  years.  Joe  proved 
a  worthy  successor  to  Brigham  for  speed,  endurance,  and 
intelligence. 

This  was  the  first  adventure  that  Will  and  the  Pawnees 
had  pursued  together,  and  they  emerged  with  an  increased 
esteem  for  each  other.  Not  long  afterward,  Will's  skill  as 
a  buffalo-hunter  raised  the  admiration  of  the  Indians  to 
enthusiasm. 

Twenty  Pawnees  that  circled  around  one  herd  of  buffa- 
loes killed  only  twenty-two,  and  when  the  next  herd  came 
in  view  Will  asked  Major  North  to  keep  the  Indians  in  the 
background  while  he  showed  them  a  thing  or  two.  Buck- 
skin Joe  was  a  capital  buffalo-hunter,  and  so  well  did  he 
perform  his  part  that  Will  brought  down  thirty-six,  about 
one  at  every  shot. 

The  Pawnees  were  delighted.  They  held  it  consider- 
able of  an  achievement  to  kill  two  or  three  of  the  monarchs 
of  the  plains  at  a  single  run,  and  Will's  feat  dazzled  them. 
He  was  at  once  pronounced  a  great  chief,  and  ever  after 
occupied  a  high  place  in  their  regard. 


170         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Moving  up  the  Republican  River,  the  troops  went  into 
camp  on  Black  Tail  Deer  Fork.  Scarcely  were  the  tents 
pitched  when  a  band  of  Indians  were  seen  sweeping  toward 
them  at  full  speed,  singing,  yelling,  and  waving  lances. 
The  camp  was  alive  in  an  instant,  but  the  Pawnees,  instead 
of  preparing  for  defense,  began  to  sing  and  yell  in  unison 
with  the  advancing  braves.  "  Those  are  some  of  our  own 
Indians,"  said  Major  North;  "they've  had  a  fight,  and  are 
bringing  in  the  scalps." 

And  so  it  proved.  The  Pawnees  reported  a  skirmish 
with  the  Sioux,  in  which  a  few  of  the  latter  had  been  killed. 

The  next  day  the  regiment  set  forth  upon  the  trail  of 
the  Sioux.  They  traveled  rapidly,  and  plainly  gained 
ground. 

At  every  camp  the  print  of  a  woman's  shoe  was  noted 
among  the  tracks  of  moccasined  feet.  The  band  evidently 
had  a  white  captive  in  tow,  and  General  Carr,  selecting  the 
best  horses,  ordered  a  forced  march,  the  wagon-trains  to 
follow  as  rapidly  as  possible.  Will,  with  six  Pawnees,  was 
to  go  ahead  and  locate  the  hostiles,  and  send  back  word,  so 
that  a  plan  of  attack  might  be  arranged  before  the  Indian 
village  was  reached. 

This  village  the  scouts  discovered  among  the  sand-hills 
at  Summit  Springs,  a  few  miles  from  the  South  Platte 
River;  and  while  the  Pawnees  remained  to  watch,  Will 
returned  to  General  Carr  with  the  news. 

There  was  suppressed  excitement  all  along  the  line,  as 
officers  and  men  prepared  for  what  promised  to  be  a  lively 
scrimmage.  The  troops  moved  forward  by  a  circuitous 
route,  and  reached  a  hill  overlooking  the  hostile  camp 
without  their  presence  being  dreamed  of  by  the  red  men. 

The  bugler  was  ordered  to  sound  the  charge,  but  he 
was  trembling  with  excitement,  and  unable  to  blow  a  note. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         171 

"Sound  the  charge,  man!"  ordered  General  Carr  a 
second  time ;  but  the  unhappy  wight  could  scarcely  hold  his 
horn,  much  less  blow  it.  Quartermaster  Hays  snatched 
the  instrument  from  the  flustered  man's  hands,  and  as  the 
call  rang  out  loud  and  clear  the  troops  rushed  to  the 
attack. 

Taken  wholly  by  surprise,  the  Indian  village  went  to 
pieces  in  a  twinkling.  A  few  of  the  Sioux  mounted  and 
rode  forward  to  repel  the  assault,  but  they  turned  back  in 
half  a  minute,  while  those  that  were  not  mounted  scattered 
for  the  foothills  hard  by.  The  cavalry  swept  through  the 
village  like  a  prairie  fire,  and  pursued  the  flying  Indians 
until  darkness  put  an  end  to  the  chase. 

By  the  next  morning  the  bugler  had  grown  calm  enough 
to  sound  "Boots  and  Saddles!"  and  General  Carr  split  his 
force  into  companies,  as  it  was  discovered  that  the  Indians 
had  divided.  Each  company  was  to  follow  a  separate 
trail. 

Will  made  one  of  a  band  of  two  hundred,  and  for  two 
days  they  dogged  the  red  man's  footsteps.  At  sunrise  of 
the  third  day  the  trail  ran  into  another,  showing  that  the 
Sioux  had  reunited  their  forces.  This  was  serious  for  the 
little  company  of  regulars,  but  they  went  ahead,  eager  for 
a  meeting  with  the  savages. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  sun  was  scarcely  an 
hour  high  when  some  six  hundred  Sioux  were  espied  riding 
in  close  ranks  along  the  bank  of  the  Platte.  The  Indians 
discovered  the  troops  at  the  same  moment,  and  at  once 
gave  battle.  The  Indian  is  not  a  coward,  though  he  fre- 
quently declines  combat  if  the  odds  are  not  largely  in  his 
favor. 

In  this  engagement  the  Sioux  outnumbered  the  soldiers 
three  to  one,  and  the  latter  fell  back  slowly  until  they 


172         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

reached  a  ravine.  Here  they  tethered  their  horses  and 
waited  the  course  of  Indian  events,  which,  as  usual,  came 
in  circular  form.  The  Sioux  surrounded  the  regulars,  and 
finding  them  comparatively  few  in  number,  made  a  gallant 
charge. 

But  bows  and  arrows  are  futile  against  powder  and  ball, 
and  the  warriors  reeled  back  from  a  scathing  fire,  leaving  a 
score  of  their  number  dead. 

Another  charge,  another  repulse;  and  then  a  council  of 
war.  This  lasted  an  hour,  and  evidently  evolved  a  brilliant 
stratagem,  for  the  Sioux  divided  into  two  bands,  and  while 
one  made  a  show  of  withdrawing,  the  other  circled  around 
and  around  the  position  where  the  soldiers  lay. 

At  a  point  in  this  revolving  belt  of  redskins  rode  a 
well-mounted,  hadsome  warrior,  plainly  a  chief.  It  had 
been  Will's  experience  that  to  lay  low  a  chief  was  half  the 
battle  when  fighting  Indians,  but  this  particular  mogul  kept 
just  out  of  rifle-shot.  There  are,  however,  as  many  ways 
of  killing  an  Indian  as  of  killing  a  cat;  so  Will  crawled  on 
hands  and  knees  along  the  ravine  to  a  point  which  he 
thought  would  be  within  range  of  the  chief  when  next  he 
swung  around  the  circle. 

The  calculation  was  close  enough,  and  when  the  warrior 
came  loping  along,  slacking  his  pace  to  cross  the  ravine, 
Will  rose  and  fired. 

It  was  a  good  four  hundred  yards,  but  the  warrior 
pitched  from  his  seat,  and  his  pony  ran  down  the  ravine 
into  the  ranks  of  the  soldiers,  who  were  so  elated  over  the 
success  of  the  shot  that  they  voted  the  animal  to  Will  as  a 
trophy. 

The  fallen  warrior  was  Tall  Bull,  one  of  the  ablest 
chiefs  the  Sioux  ever  had.  His  death  so  disheartened  his 
braves  that  they  at  once  retreated. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         173 

A  union  of  General  Carr's  scattered  forces  followed,  and 
a  few  days  later  an  engagement  took  place  in  which  three 
hundred  warriors  and  a  large  number  of  ponies  were  cap- 
tured. Some  white  captives  were  released,  and  several 
hundred  squaws  made  prisoners. 

Among  these  latter  was  the  amiable  widow  of  Tall  Bull, 
who,  far  from  cherishing  animosity  against  Will  as  the 
slayer  of  her  spouse,  took  pride  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
fallen  under  the  fire  of  so  great  a  warrior  as  "Pahaska, " 
Long-haired  Chief,  by  which  name  our  scout  was  known 
among  the  Indians. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ARMY   LIFE   AT   FORT    M'PHERSON. 

IN  the  spring  of  1870  Will  proceeded  to  put  into  effect  the 
determination  of  the  previous  year — to  establish  a  home  in 
the  lovely  country  of  the  westerly  Platte.  After  preparing 
quarters  wherein  his  family  might  be  comfortable,  he 
obtained  a  leave  of  absence  and  departed  for  St.  Louis  to 
fetch  his  wife  and  daughter  Arta,  now  a  beautiful  child  of 
three. 

The  fame  of  "  Buffalo  Bill"  had  extended  far  beyond 
the  plains,  and  during  his  month's  sojourn  in  St.  Louis  he 
was  the  object  of  a  great  deal  of  attention.  When  the 
family  prepared  to  depart  for  the  frontier  home,  my  sister- 
in-law  wrote  to  me  to  ask  if  I  did  not  wish  to  accompany 
them.  I  should  have  been  delighted  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion, but  at  that  especial  time  there  were  strong  attractions 
for  me  in  my  childhood's  home;  besides,  I  felt  that  sister 
May,  who  had  not  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  the  St.  Louis 
trip,  was  entitled  to  the  Western  jaunt. 

So  May  made  a  visit  to  McPherson,  and  a  delightful 
time  she  had,  though  she  was  at  first  inclined  to  quarrel 
with  the  severe  discipline  of  army  life.  Will  ranked  with 
the  officers,  and  as  a  result  May's  social  companions  were 
limited  to  the  two  daughters  of  General  Augur,  who  were 
also  on  a  visit  to  the  fort.  To  compensate  for  the  shortage 
of  feminine  society,  however,  there  were  a  number  of 
young  unmarried  officers. 

174 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         175 

Every  day  had  its  curious  or  enlivening  incident,  and 
May's  letters  to  me  were  filled  with  accounts  of  the  gayety 
of  life  at  an  army  post.  After  several  months  I  was  invited 
to  join  her.  She  was  enthusiastic  over  a  proposed  buffalo- 
hunt,  as  she  desired  to  take  part  in  one  before  her  return 
to  Leavenworth,  and  wished  me  to  enjoy  the  sport  with 
her. 

In  accepting  the  invitation  I  fixed  a  certain  day  for  my 
arrival  at  McPherson,  but  I  was  delayed  in  my  journey, 
and  did  not  reach  the  fort  until  three  days  after  the  date 
set.  May  was  much  disturbed.  She  had  allowed  me  three 
days  for  recuperation  from  the  journey,  and  I  had  arrived 
on  the  eve  of  the  buffalo-hunt.  Naturally,  I  was  too 
fatigued  to  rave  over  buffaloes,  and  I  objected  to  joining 
the  hunt;  and  I  was  encouraged  in  my  objecting  by  the 
discovery  that  my  brother  was  away  on  a  scouting  trip. 

"You  don't  think  of  going  buffalo-hunting  without 
Will,  do  you?"  I  asked  May. 

"Why,"  said  she,  "we  can  never  tell  when  he  will  be 
in  camp  and  when  away;  he's  off  scouting  nearly  all  the 
time.  And  we  can't  get  up  a  buffalo-hunt  on  five  minutes' 
notice;  we  must  plan  ahead.  Our  party  is  all  ready  to 
start,  and  there's  a  reporter  here  from  an  Omaha  paper 
to  write  it  up.  We  can't  put  it  off,  and  you  must  go." 

After  that,  of  course,  there  was  nothing  more  to  be 
said,  and  when  the  hunting-party  set  forth  I  made  one 
of  it. 

A  gay  party  it  was.  For  men,  there  were  a  number  of 
officers,  and  the  newspaper  man,  Dr.  Frank  Powell,  now 
of  La  Crosse;  for  women,  the  wives  of  two  of  the  officers, 
the  daughters  of  General  Augur,  May,  and  myself.  There 
was  sunshine,  laughter,  and  incessant  chatter,  and  when 
one  is  young  and  fond  of  horseback-riding,  and  a  handsome 


i76         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

young  officer  rides  by  one's  side,  physical  fatigue  is  apt  to 
vanish  for  a  time. 

The  fort  was  soon  nothing  but  a  break  in  the  sky-line, 
and  with  a  sense  almost  of  awe  I  looked  for  the  first  time 
upon  the  great  American  Desert.  To  our  left,  as  we  rode 
eastward,  ran  the  swift  and  shallow  Platte,  dotted  with 
green-garbed  islands.  This  river  Washington  Irving  called 
"the  most  magnificent  and  the  most  useless  of  streams." 
"The  islands,"  he  wrote,  "have  the  appearance  of  a  laby- 
rinth of  groves  floating  on  the  waters.  Their  extraordinary 
position  gives  an  air  of  youth  and  loveliness  to  the  whole 
scene.  If  to  this  be  added  the  undulations  of  the  river, 
the  waving  of  the  verdure,  the  alternations  of  light  and 
shade,  and  the  purity  of  the  atmosphere,  some  idea  may 
be  formed  of  the  pleasing  sensations  which  the  traveler 
experiences  on  beholding  a  scene  that  seems  to  have  started 
fresh  from  the  hands  of  the  Creator." 

In  sharp  contrast  was  the  sandy  plain  over  which  we 
rode.  On  this  grew  the  short,  stubby  buffalo-grass,  the 
dust-colored  sage-brush,  and  cactus  in  rank  profusion. 
Over  to  the  right,  perhaps  a  mile  away,  a  long  range  of 
foothills  ran  down  to  the  horizon,  with  here  and  there  the 
great  cafions,  through  which  entrance  was  effected  to  the 
upland  country,  each  cafion  bearing  a  historical  or  legend- 
ary name. 

To  my  eyes  the  picture  was  as  beautiful  as  it  was  novel. 
As  far  as  one  could  see  there  was  no  sign  of  human  habita- 
tion. It  was  one  vast,  untenanted  waste,  with  the  touch 
of  infinity  the  ocean  wears. 

As  we  began  to  get  into  the  foothills,  one  of  our  eques- 
triennes narrowly  escaped  a  fall.  Her  horse  dropped  a 
foot  into  a  prairie-dog's  hole,  and  came  to  an  abrupt  stop. 
The  foot  was  extricated,  and  I  was  instructed  in  the  dan- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         *77 

gers  that  beset  the  prairie  voyager  in  these  blind  traps  of 
the  plain. 

The  trail  had  been  ascending  at  a  gentle  grade,  and  we 
had  a  slight  change  of  scene — desert  hill  instead  of  desert 
plain.  The  sand-hills  rose  in  tiers  before  us,  and  I  was 
informed  that  they  were  formed  ages  ago  by  the  action  of 
water.  What  was  hard,  dry  ground  to  our  horses'  hoofs 
was  once  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

I  was  much  interested  in  the  geology  of  my  environ- 
ments; much  more  so  than  I  should  have  been  had  I  been 
told  that  those  strange,  weird  hills  were  the  haunt  of  the 
red  man,  who  was  on  the  war-path,  and  looking  constantly 
for  scalps.  But  these  unpleasant  facts  were  not  touched 
upon  by  the  officers,  and  in  blissful  ignorance  we  pursued 
the  tenor  of  our  way. 

We  were  obliged  to  ride  a  great  distance  before  we 
sighted  any  game,  and  after  twenty  miles  had  been  gone 
over,  my  temporarily  forgotten  weariness  began  to  reassert 
itself.  Dr.  Powell  proposed  that  the  ladies  should  do  the 
shooting,  but  my  interest  in  the  hunt  had  waned.  It  had 
been  several  years  since  I  had  ridden  a  horse,  and  after  the 
first  few  miles  I  was  not  in  a  suitable  frame  of  mind  or 
body  to  enjoy  the  most  exciting  hunt. 

A  herd  of  buffaloes  finally  came  into  view,  and  the 
party  was  instantly  alive.  One  old  bull  was  a  little  apart 
from  the  others  of  the  herd,  and  was  singled  out  for  the 
first  attack.  As  we  drew  within  range,  a  rifle  was  given  to 
May,  with  explicit  directions  as  to  its  handling.  The 
buffalo  has  but  one  vulnerable  spot,  and  it  is  next  to  im- 
possible for  a  novice  to  make  a  fatal  shot.  May  fired,  and 
perhaps  her  shot  might  be  called  a  good  one,  for  the  animal 
was  struck;  but  it  was  only  wounded  and  infuriated,  and 
dropping  its  shaggy  head,  it  rushed  toward  us.  The 


178         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

officers  fusilladed  the  mountain  of  flesh,  succeeding  only  in 
rousing  it  to  added  fury.  Another  rifle  was  handed  to 
May,  and  Dr.  Powell  directed  its  aim ;  but  terrified  by  the 
near  presence  of  the  charging  bull,  May  discharged  it  at 
random. 

Although  this  is  strictly  a  narrative  of  facts,  exercising 
the  privilege  of  the  novelist,  we  leave  our  present  hero- 
ine in  her  perilous  position,  and  return,  for  a  space,  to 
the  fort. 

Will  returned  from  his  scouting  trip  shortly  after  the 
departure  of  the  hunting  party,  and  his  first  query  was: 

"Is  Nellie  here?" 

"Come  and  gone,"  replied  his  wife;  and  she  informed 
him  of  the  manner  in  which  I  had  been  carried  off  on  the 
long-talked-of  buffalo-hunt.  Whereupon  Will  gave  way 
to  one  of  his  rare  fits  of  passion.  The  scouting  trip  had 
been  long  and  arduous,  he  was  tired  and  hungry,  but  also 
keenly  anxious  for  our  safety.  He  knew  what  we  were 
ignorant  of — that  should  we  come  clear  of  the  not  insignifi- 
cant dangers  attendant  upon  a  buffalo-hunt,  there  remained 
the  possibility  of  capture  by  Indians. 

"I  must  go  after  them  at  once,"  said  he;  and  off  he 
went,  without  thought  of  rest  or  food.  He  did  take  time, 
however,  to  visit  the  officers'  quarters  and  pour  a  vial  of 
wrath  upon  the  bewildered  head  of  the  inferior  who  occu- 
pied the  place  of  the  absent  commandant. 

"Didn't  you  know,"  cried  Will,  "that  my  continued 
absence  meant  danger  in  the  air?  Fine  idea,  to  let  a 
party  of  ladies  go  beyond  the  fort  on  such  a  foolhardy 
expedition  before  I  had  assured  you  it  was  safe  to  do  so! 
Understand,  if  any  harm  comes  to  my  sisters,  I'll  hold  the 
government  responsible!" 

With  which  tremendous  threat  he  mounted  the  swiftest 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         179 

horse  in  camp  and  rode  away  before  the  astonished  officer 
had  recovered  from  his  surprise. 

He  was  able  to  track  us  over  the  sand-hills,  and  reached 
us,  in  accepted  hero  fashion,  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  The 
maddened  bull  buffalo  was  charging  on  May,  unchecked 
by  a  peppering  fire  from  the  guns  of  the  officers.  All 
hands  were  so  absorbed  by  the  intense  excitement  of  the 
moment  that  the  sound  of  approaching  hoof-beats  was 
unnoted.  But  I  heard,  from  behind  us,  the  crack  of  a  rifle, 
and  saw  the  buffalo  fall  dead  almost  at  our  feet. 

The  ill-humo*  of  our  rescuer  dampened  the  ardor  of  the 
welcome  we  gave  him.  The  long  ride  on  an  empty 
stomach  had  not  smoothed  a  ripple  of  his  ruffled  temper, 
and  we  were  all  properly  lectured.  We  were  ordered  back 
to  the  fort  at  once,  and  the  command  was  of  such  a  nature 
that  no  one  thought  of  disputing  it.  The  only  question 
was,  whether  we  could  make  the  fort  before  being  cut  off 
by  Indians.  There  was  no  time  to  be  wasted,  even  in  cut- 
ting meat  from  the  tongue  of  the  fallen  buffalo.  Will 
showed  us  the  shortest  cut  for  home,  and  himself  zigzagged 
ahead  of  us,  on  the  watch  for  a  danger  signal. 

For  my  part,  I  was  so  worn  out  that  I  would  as  soon  be 
captured  by  Indians,  if  they  would  agree  to  provide  me 
with  a  wigwam  wherein  I  might  lie  down  and  rest ;  but  no 
Indians  appeared.  Five  miles  from  the  fort  was  the  ranch 
of  a  wealthy  bachelor,  and  at  May's  request  a  halt  was 
here  called.  It  was  thought  that  the  owner  of  the  ranch 
might  take  pity  upon  my  deplorable  condition,  and  provide 
some  sort  of  vehicle  to  convey  the  ladies  the  remainder  of 
the  journey. 

We  were  heartily  welcomed,  and  our  bachelor  host 
made  us  extremely  comfortable  in  his  cozy  apartments, 
while  he  ordered  supper  for  the  party.  Will  considered 


i8o         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

that  we  were  within  the  safety  zone,  so  he  continued  on  to 
the  fort  to  obtain  his  postponed  rest ;  and  after  supper  the 
ladies  rode  to  the  fort  in  a  carriage. 

The  next  day's  Omaha  paper  contained  an  account  of 
the  hunt  from  Dr.  Powell's  graphic  pen,  and  in  it  May 
Cody  received  all  the  glory  of  the  shot  that  laid  the  buffalo 
low.  Newspaper  men  are  usually  ready  to  sacrifice  exact 
facts  to  an  innate  sense  of  the  picturesque. 

At  this  time  the  fort  was  somewhat  concerned  over 
numerous  petty  crimes  among  the  civilians,  and  General 
Emory,  now  chief  in  authority  at  the  post,  requested  the 
county  commissioners  to  appoint  Will  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  This  was  done,  much  to  the  dismay  of  the  new 
justice,  who,  as  he  phrased  it,  "knew  no  more  of  law  than 
a  mule  knows  of  singing."  But  he  was  compelled  to  bear 
the  blushing  honors  thrust  upon  him,  and  his  sign  was 
posted  in  a  conspicuous  place: 


WILLIAM  F.  CODY, 
JUSTICE  OF  THE  PEACE. 


Almost  the  first  thing  he  was  called  upon  to  do  in  his 
new  capacity  was  to  perform  a  wedding  ceremony.  Cold 
sweat  stood  upon  his  brow  as  he  implored  our  aid  in  this 
desperate  emergency.  The  big  law  book  with  which  he 
had  been  equipped  at  his  installation  was  ransacked  in  vain 
for  the  needed  information.  The  Bible  was  examined  more 
diligently,  perhaps,  than  it  had  ever  been  by  him  before, 
but  the  Good  Book  was  as  unresponsive  as  the  legal  tome. 
' '  Remember  your  own  wedding  ceremony, ' '  was  our  advice. 
' '  Follow  that  as  nearly  as  possible. ' '  But  he  shook  his  head 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         iSi 

despondently.  The  cool-headed  scout  and  Indian  fighter 
was  dismayed,  and  the  dignity  of  the  law  trembled  in  the 
balance. 

To  put  an  edge  on  the  crisis,  nearly  the  entire  fort 
attended  the  wedding.  All  is  well,  said  we,  as  we  watched 
the  justice  take  his  place  before  the  bridal  pair  with  not  a 
sign  of  trepidation.  At  the  outset  his  conducting  of  the 
ceremony  was  irreproachable,  and  we  were  secretly  con- 
gratulating ourselves  upon  his  success,  when  our  ears  were 
startled  by  the  announcement: 

"Whom  God  and  Buffalo  Bill  hath  joined  together,  let 
no  man  put  asunder." 

So  far  as  I  am  informed,  no  man  has  attempted  it. 

Before  May  returned  home,  Will  became  the  very  proud 
father  of  a  son.  He  had  now  three  children,  a  second 
daughter,  Orra,  having  been  born  two  years  before.  The 
first  boy  of  the  family  was  the  object  of  the  undivided 
interest  of  the  post  for  a  time,  and  names  by  the  dozen 
were  suggested.  Major  North  offered  Kit  Carson  as  an 
appropriate  name  for  the  son  of  a  great  scout  and  buffalo- 
hunter,  and  this  was  finally  settled  on. 

My  first  touch  of  real  anxiety  came  with  an  order  to 
Will  to  report  at  headquarters  for  assignment  to  duty. 
The  country  was  alive  with  Indians,  the  officer  in  command 
informed  him,  and  this  intelligence  filled  me  with  dread. 
My  sister-in-law  had  grown  accustomed  to  her  husband's 
excursions  into  danger-land,  and  accepted  such  sallies  as 
incidents  of  his  position.  Later,  I,  too,  learned  this 
stoical  philosophy,  but  at  first  my  anxiety  was  so  keen  that 
Will  laughed  at  me. 

"Don't  worry,"  said  he;  "the  Indians  won't  visit  the 
fort  to-night.  There's  no  danger  of  them  scalping  you." 

"But,"  said  I,  "it  is  for  you,  not  for  myself,  that  I  am 


182         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

afraid.  It  is  horrible  to  think  of  you  going  out  alone 
among  those  foothills,  which  swarm  with  Indians." 

The  fort  was  on  the  prairie,  but  the  distant  foothills 
stretched  away  interminably,  and  these  furnished  favorite 
lurking-places  for  the  redskins.  Will  drew  me  to  a  win- 
dow, and  pointed  out  the  third  tier  of  hills,  some  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  away. 

"I  would  advise  you,"  said  he,  "to  go  to  bed  and 
sleep,  but  if  you  insist  on  keeping  awake  and  worrying,  I 
will  kindle  a  blaze  on  top  of  that  hill  at  midnight.  Watch 
closely.  I  can  send  up  only  one  flash,  for  there  will  be 
Indian  eyes  unclosed  as  well  as  yours." 

One  may  imagine  with  what  a  beating  heart  I  stared 
into  the  darkness  when  the  hour  of  twelve  drew  on.  The 
night  was  a  veil  that  hid  a  thousand  terrors,  but  a  gauzy 
veil,  to  my  excited  fancy,  behind  which  passed  a  host  of 
shadowy  horsemen  with  uptossing  lances.  How  could  a 
man  ride  alone  into  such  a  gloomy,  terror-haunted  domain? 
The  knights  of  old,  who  sallied  forth  in  search  of  dismal 
ogres  and  noxious  dragons,  were  not  of  stouter  heart,  and 
they  breasted  only  fancied  perils. 

Twelve  o'clock!  The  night  had  a  thousand  eyes,  but 
they  did  not  pierce  the  darkness  of  the  foothills. 

Ah  !  A  thin  ribbon  of  light  curled  upward  for  an  instant, 
then  vanished.  Will  was  safe  thus  far.  But  there  were 
many  hours — and  the  darkest — before  the  dawn,  and  I  car- 
ried to  my  bed  the  larger  share  of  my  forebodings. 

Next  day  the  scout  came  home  to  report  the  exact  loca- 
tion of  the  hostile  Sioux.  The  troops,  ready  for  instant 
action,  were  hurled  against  them,  and  the  Indians  were 
thoroughly  thrashed.  A  large  number  of  chiefs  were  cap- 
tured, among  them  "Red  Shirt,"  an  interesting  redskin, 
who  afterward  traveled  with  the  "Wild  West." 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         183 

Captive  chiefs  were  always  esteemed  of  great  interest  by 
the  ladies  of  the  fort.  To  me  the  braves  taken  in  the  last 
raid  were  remarkable  mainly  for  economy  of  apparel  and 
sulkiness  of  demeanor. 

This  same  fall  the  fort  was  visited  by  a  gentleman 
introduced  as  Colonel  Judson,  though  the  public  knows 
him  better  as  "Ned  Buntline,"  the  story-writer.  He 
desired  to  accompany  the  scouts  on  a  certain  proposed 
trip,  and  Major  Brown  informed  Will  that  the  ulterior 
motive  of  the  author  was  to  project  Buffalo  Bill  into  a 
novel  as  hero. 

"Now,  I'd  look  pretty  in  a  novel,  wouldn't  I?"  said 
Will,  sarcastically  and  blushingly. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  would,"  returned  the  major,  eying 
the  other's  splendid  proportions  critically. 

Whereupon  the  scout  blushed  again,  and  doffed  his 
sombrero  in  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment,  for — 

"  'Tis  pleasant,  sure,  to  see  one's  name  in  print ; 
A  book's  a  book,  although  there's  nothing  in't." 

A  retired  naval  officer,  Ned  Buntline  wore  a  black  undress 
military  suit.  His  face  was  bronzed  and  rugged,  deter- 
mined yet  kindly;  he  walked  with  a  slight  limp,  and  car- 
ried a  cane.  He  shook  Will's  hand  cordially  when  they 
were  introduced,  and  expressed  great  pleasure  in  the  meet- 
ing. This  was  the  genesis  of  a  friendship  destined  to  work 
great  changes  in  Buffalo  Bill's  career. 

During  the  scouting  expedition  that  followed,  the  party 
chanced  upon  an  ,  enormous  bone,  which  the  surgeon  pro- 
nounced the  femur  of  a  human  body.  Will  understood  the 
Indian  tongues  well  enough  to  be  in  part  possession  of 
their  traditions,  and  he  related  the  Sioux  legend  of  the  flood. 

It   was  taught   by  the  wise  men  of  this  tribe  that  the 


184         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

earth  was  originally  peopled  by  giants,  who  were  fully 
three  times  the  size  of  modern  men.  They  were  so  swift 
and  powerful  that  they  could  run  alongside  a  buffalo,  take 
the  animal  under  one  arm,  and  tear  off  a  leg,  and  eat  it  as 
they  ran.  So  vainglorious  were  they  because  of  their  own 
size  and  strength  that  they  denied  the  existence  of  a  Cre- 
ator. When  it  lightened,  they  proclaimed  their  superiority 
to  the  lightning;  when  it  thundered,  they  laughed. 

This  displeased  the  Great  Spirit,  and  to  rebuke  their 
arrogance  he  sent  a  great  rain  upon  the  earth.  The  val- 
leys filled  with  water,  and  the  giants  retreated  to  the  hills. 
The  water  crept  up  the  hills,  and  the  giants  sought  safety  on 
the  highest  mountains.  Still  the  rain  continued,  the  waters 
rose,  and  the  giants,  having  no  other  refuge,  were  drowned. 

The  Great  Spirit  profited  by  his  former  mistake.  When 
the  waters  subsided,  he  made  a  new  race  of  men,  but  he 
made  them  smaller  and  less  strong. 

This  tradition  has  been  handed  down  from  Sioux  father 
to  Sioux  son  since  earliest  ages.  It  shows,  at  least,  as  the 
legends  of  all  races  do,  that  the  story  of  the  Deluge  is  his- 
tory common  to  all  the  world. 

Another  interesting  Indian  tradition  bears  evidence  of 
a  later  origin.  The  Great  Spirit,  they  say,  once  formed  a 
man  of  clay,  and  he  was  placed  in  the  furnace  to  bake,  but 
he  was  subjected  to  the  heat  too  long  a  time,  and  came 
out  burnt.  Of  him  came  the  negro  race.  At  another  trial 
the  Great  Spirit  feared  the  second  clay  man  might  also 
burn,  and  he  was  not  left  in  the  furnace  long  enough.  Of 
him  came  the  paleface  man.  The  Great  Spirit  was  now 
in  a  position  to  do  perfect  work,  and  the  third  clay  man 
was  left  in  the  furnace  neither  too  long  nor  too  short  a 
time ;  he  emerged  a  masterpiece,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  crea- 
tion— the  noble  red  man. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

PA-HAS-KA,  THE    LONG-HAIRED   CHIEF. 

ALTHOUGH  the  glory  of  killing  the  buffalo  on  our  hunt  was 
accredited  to  sister  May,  to  me  the  episode  proved  of  much 
more  moment.  In  the  spring  of  1871  I  was  married  to  Mr. 
Jester,  the  bachelor  ranchman  at  whose  place  we  had  tar- 
ried on  our  hurried  return  to  the  fort.  His  house  had  a 
rough  exterior,  but  was  substantial  and  commodious,  and 
before  I  entered  it,  a  bride,  it  was  refitted  in  a  style  almost 
luxurious.  I  returned  to  Leavenworth  to  prepare  for  the 
wedding,  which  took  place  at  the  home  of  an  old  friend, 
Thomas  Plowman,  his  daughter  Emma  having  been  my 
chum  in  girlhood. 

In  our  home  near  McPherson  we  were  five  miles  ''in 
the  country."  Nature  in  primitive  wildness  encompassed 
us,  but  life's  song  never  ran  into  a  monotone.  The  prairie 
is  never  dull  when  one  watches  it  from  day  to  day  for  signs 
of  Indians.  Yet  we  were  not  especially  concerned,  as  we 
were  near  enough  to  the  fort  to  reach  it  on  short  notice, 
and  besides  our  home  there  was  another  house  where  the 
ranchmen  lived.  With  these  I  had  little  to  do.  My  espe- 
cial factotum  was  a  negro  boy,  whose  chief  duty  was  to 
saddle  my  horse  and  bring  it  to  the  door,  attend  me  upon 
my  rides,  and  minister  to  my  comfort  generally.  Poor 
little  chap!  He  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  Indians' 
victims. 

Early  one  morning  John,  as  he  was  called,  was  sent  out 

185 


1 86         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

alone  to  look  after  the  cattle.  During  breakfast  the  clatter 
of  hoofs  was  heard,  and  Will  rode  up  to  inform  us  that  the 
Indians  were  on  the  war-path  and  massed  in  force  just 
beyond  our  ranch.  Back  of  Will  were  the  troops,  and 
we  were  advised  to  ride  at  once  to  the  fort.  Hastily  pack- 
ing a  few  valuables,  we  took  refuge  at  McPherson,  and 
remained  there  until  the  troops  returned  with  the  news  that 
all  danger  was  over. 

Upon  our  return  to  the  ranch  we  found  that  the  cattle 
had  been  driven  away,  and  poor  little  John  was  picked  up 
dead  on  the  skirts  of  the  foothills.  The  redskins  had 
apparently  started  to  scalp  him,  but  had  desisted.  Per- 
haps they  thought  his  wool  would  not  make  a  desirable 
trophy,  perhaps  they  were  frightened  away.  At  all  events, 
the  poor  child's  scalp  was  left  to  him,  though  the  mark  of 
the  knife  was  plain. 

Shortly  after  this  episode,  some  capitalists  from  the 
East  visited  my  husband.  One  of  them,  Mr.  Bent,  owned 
a  large  share  in  the  cattle-ranches.  He  desired  to  visit 
this  ranch,  and  the  whole  party  planned  a  hunt  at  the  same 
time.  As  there  were  no  banking  facilities  on  the  frontier, 
drafts  or  bills  of  exchange  would  have  been  of  no  use ;  so 
the  money  designed  for  Western  investment  had  been 
brought  along  in  cash.  To  carry  this  on  the  proposed  trip 
was  too  great  a  risk,  and  I  was  asked  banteringly  to  act  as 
banker.  I  consented  readily,  but  imagine  my  perturbation 
when  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  bank-notes  were 
counted  out  and  left  in  my  care.  I  had  never  had  the 
responsibility  of  so  large  a  sum  of  money  before,  and  com- 
pared to  me  the  man  with  the  elephant  on  his  hands  had  a 
tranquil  time  of  it.  After  considering  various  methods  for 
secreting  the  money,  I  decided  for  the  hair  mattress  on 
my  bed.  This  I  ripped  open,  inserted  the  envelope  con- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         187 

taining  the  bank-notes,  and  sewed  up  the  slit.  No  one  was 
aware  of  my  trust,  and  I  regarded  it  safe. 

A  few  mornings  later  I  ordered  my  pony  and  rode 
away  to  visit  my  nearest  neighbor,  a  Mrs.  Erickson,  pur- 
posing later  to  ride  to  the  fort  and  spend  the  day  with 
Lou,  my  sister-in-law.  When  I  reached  Mrs.  Erickson's 
house,  that  good  woman  came  out  in  great  excitement  to 
greet  me. 

"You  must  come  right  in,  Mrs.  Jester!"  said  she. 
"The  foothills  are  filled  with  Indians  on  the  war- 
path." 

She  handed  me  her  field-glasses,  and  directed  my  gaze 
to  the  trail  below  our  ranch,  over  which  buffaloes,  cattle, 
and  Indians  passed  down  to  the  Platte.  I  could  plainly 
see  the  warriors  tramping  along  Indian-file,  their  head- 
feathers  waving  in  the  breeze  and  their  blankets  flapping 
about  them  as  they  walked.  Instantly  the  thought  of  the 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  intrusted  to  my  care  flashed 
across  my  mind. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Erickson,"  I  exclaimed,  "I  must  return  to 
the  ranch  immediately!" 

"You  must  not  do  so,  Mrs.  Jester;  it's  as  much  as 
your  life  is  worth  to  attempt  it,"  said  she. 

But  I  thought  only  of  the  money,  and  notwithstanding 
warning  and  entreaty,  mounted  my  horse  and  flew  back 
on  the  homeward  path,  not  even  daring  to  look  once  toward 
the  foothills.  When  I  reached  the  house,  I  called  to  the 
overseer: 

"The  Indians  are  on  the  war-path,  and  the  foothills  are 
full  of  them!  Have  two  or  three  men  ready  to  escort  me 
to  the  fort  by  the  time  I  have  my  valise  packed." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Jester,"  was  the  reply,  "there  are  no 
Indians  in  sight." 


1 88         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"But  there  are,"  said  I.  "I  saw  them  as  plainly  as  I 
see  you,  and  the  Ericksons  saw  them,  too." 

"You  have  been  the  victim  of  a  mirage,"  said  the  ovei- 
seer.  "Look!  there  are  no  Indians  now  in  view." 

I  scanned  the  foothills  closely,  but  there  was  no  sign  of 
a  warrior.  With  my  field-glasses  I  searched  the  entire 
rim  of  the  horizon;  it  was  tranquillity  itself.  I  experi- 
enced a  great  relief,  nevertheless.  My  nerves  were  so 
shaken  that  I  could  not  remain  at  home;  so  I  packed  a 
valise,  taking  along  the  package  of  bank-notes,  and  visited 
another  neighbor,  a  Mrs.  McDonald,  a  dear  friend  of  many 
years'  standing,  who  lived  nearer  the  fort. 

This  excellent  woman  was  an  old  resident  of  the  fron- 
tier. After  she  had  heard  my  story,  she  related  some  of 
her  own  Indian  experiences.  When  she  first  settled  in  her 
present  home,  there  was  no  fort  to  which  she  could  flee 
from  Indian  molestation,  and  she  was  often  compelled  to 
rely  upon  her  wits  to  extricate  her  from  dangerous  situa- 
tions. The  story  that  especially  impressed  me  was  the  fol- 
lowing: 

"One  evening  when  I  was  alone,"  said  Mrs.  McDonald, 
"I  became  conscious  that  eyes  were  peering  at  me  from 
the  darkness  outside  my  window.  Flight  was  impossible, 
and  my  husband  would  not  likely  reach  home  for  an  hour 
or  more.  What  should  I  do?  A  happy  thought  came  to 
me.  You  know,  perhaps,  that  Indians,  for  some  reason, 
have  a  strange  fear  of  a  drunken  woman,  and  will  not 
molest  one.  I  took  from  a  closet  a  bottle  filled  with  a 
dark-colored  liquid,  poured  out  a  glassful  and  drank  it.  In 
a  few  minutes  I  repeated  the  dose,  and  then  seemingly  it 
began  to  take  effect.  I  would  try  to  walk  across  the  room, 
staggering  and  nearly  falling.  I  became  uproariously 
'happy.'  I  flung  my  arms  above  my  head,  lurched  from 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         189 

side  to  side,  sang  a  maudlin  song,  and  laughed  loudly  and 
foolishly.  The  stratagem  succeeded.  One  by  one  the 
shadowy  faces  at  the  window  disappeared,  and  by  the  time 
my  husband  and  the  men  returned  there  was  not  an  In- 
dian in  the  neighborhood.  I  became  sober  immediately. 
Molasses  and  water  is  not  a  very  intoxicating  beverage." 

I  plucked  up  courage  to  return  to  the  ranch  that  even- 
ing, and  shortly  afterward  the  hunting-party  rode  up. 
When  I  related  the  story  of  my  fright,  Mr.  Bent  com- 
plimented me  upon  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  my 
courage. 

"You  are  your  brother's  own  sister,"  said  he.  "We'll 
make  you  banker  again." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  do  not  believe  you  will,"  said  I. 
"I  have  had  all  the  experience  I  wish  for  in  the  banking 
business  in  this  Indian  country." 

Upon  another  occasion  Indians  were  approaching  the 
fort  from  the  farther  side,  but  as  we  were  not  regarded  as 
in  danger,  no  warning  was  sent  to  us.  The  troops  sallied 
out  after  the  redskins,  and  the  cunning  warriors  described 
a  circle.  To  hide  their  trail  they  set  fire  to  the  prairie, 
and  the  hills  about  us  were  soon  ablaze.  The  flames  spread 
swiftly,  and  the  smoke  rolled  upon  us  in  suffocating  volume. 
We  retreated  to  the  river,  and  managed  to  exist  by  dash- 
ing water  upon  our  faces.  Here  we  were  found  by  soldiers 
sent  from  the  fort  to  warn  settlers  of  their  peril,  and  at 
their  suggestion  we  returned  to  the  ranch,  saddled  horses, 
and  rode  through  the  dense  smoke  five  miles  to  the  fort. 
It  was  the  most  unpleasant  ride  of  my  life. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  mention  was  made  of  the  find- 
ing of  a  remarkable  bone.  It  became  famous,  and  in  the 
summer  of  1871  Professor  Marsh,  of  Yale  College,  brought 
out  a  party  of  students  to  search  for  fossils.  They  found 


19°         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

a  number,  but  were  not  rewarded  by  anything  the  most 
credulous  could  torture  into  a  human  relic. 

This  summer  also  witnessed  an  Indian  campaign  some- 
what out  of  the  common  in  several  of  its  details.  More 
than  one  volume  would  be  required  to  record  all  the 
adventures  Scout  Cody  had  with  the  Children  of  the  Plains, 
most  of  which  had  so  many  points  in  common  that  it  is 
necessary  to  touch  upon  only  those  containing  incidents 
out  of  the  ordinary. 

An  expedition,  under  command  of  General  Duncan, 
was  fitted  out  for  the  Republican  River  country.  Duncan 
was  a  jolly  officer  and  a  born  fighter.  His  brother  officers 
had  a  story  that  once  on  a  time  he  had  been  shot  in  the 
head  by  a  cannon-ball,  and  that  while  he  was  not  hurt  a 
particle,  the  ball  glanced  off  and  killed  one  of  the  toughest 
mules  in  the  army. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  Pawnees  spoke  so  little 
English,  and  spoke  that  little  so  badly,  that  General  Dun- 
can insisted  upon  their  repeating  the  English  call,  which 
would  be  something  like  this:  "Post  Number  One.  Nine 
o'clock.  All's  well."  The  Pawnee  effort  to  obey  was  so 
ludicrous,  and  provocative  of  such  profanity  (which  they 
could  express  passing  well),  that  the  order  was  counter- 
manded. 

One  afternoon  Major  North  and  Will  rode  ahead  of  the 
command  to  select  a  site  for  the  night's  camp.  They  ran 
into  a  band  of  some  fifty  Indians,  and  were  obliged  to  take 
the  back  track  as  fast  as  their  horses  could  travel.  Will's 
whip  was  shot  from  his  hand  and  a  hole  put  through  his 
hat.  As  they  sighted  the  advance-guard  of  the  command, 
Major  North  rode  around  in  a  circle — a  signal  to  the  Paw- 
nees that  hostiles  were  near.  Instantly  the  Pawnees  broke 
ranks  and  dashed  pell-mell  to  the  relief  of  their  white  chief. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          191 

The  hostiles  now  took  a  turn  at  retreating,  and  kept  it  up 
for  several  miles. 

The  troops  took  up  the  trail  on  the  following  day,  and 
a  stern  chase  set  in.  In  passing  through  a  deserted  camp 
the  troops  found  an  aged  squaw,  who  had  been  left  to  die. 
The  soldiers  built  a  lodge  for  her,  and  she  was  provided 
with  sufficient  rations  to  last  her  until  she  reached  the 
Indian  heaven,  the  happy  hunting-grounds.  She  was  in 
no  haste,  however,  to  get  to  her  destination,  and  on  their 
return  the  troops  took  her  to  the  fort  with  them.  Later 
she  was  sent  to  the  Spotted  Tail  agency. 

In  September  of  1871  General  Sheridan  and  a  party  of 
friends  arrived  at  the  post  for  a  grand  hunt.  Between  him 
and  Will  existed  a  warm  friendship,  which  continued  to  the 
close  of  the  general's  life.  Great  preparations  were  made 
for  the  hunt.  General  Emory,  now  commander  of  the  fort, 
sent  a  troop  of  cavalry  to  meet  the  distinguished  visitors  at 
the  station  and  escort  them  to  the  fort.  Besides  General 
Sheridan,  there  were  in  the  party  Leonard  and  Lawrence 
Jerome,  Carroll  Livingstone,  James  Gordon  Bennett,  J.  G. 
Heckscher,  General  Fitzhugh,  Schuyler  Crosby,  Dr.  Asch, 
Mr.  McCarthy,  and  other  well-known  men.  When  they 
reached  the  post  they  found  the  regiment  drawn  up  on 
dress  parade ;  the  band  struck  up  a  martial  air,  the  cavalry 
were  reviewed  by  General  Sheridan,  and  the  formalities  of 
the  occasion  were  regarded  as  over. 

It  was  Sheridan's  request  that  Will  should  act  as  guide 
and  scout  for  the  hunting-party.  One  hundred  troopers 
under  Major  Brown  were  detailed  as  escort,  and  the  com- 
missary department  fairly  bulged.  Several  ambulances 
were  also  taken  along,  for  the  comfort  of  those  who  might 
weary  of  the  saddle. 

Game  was  abundant,  and  rare  sport  was  had.      Buffalo, 


192          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

elk,  and  deer  were  everywhere,  and  to  those  of  the  party 
who  were  new  to  Western  life  the  prairie-dog  villages  were 
objects  of  much  interest.  These  villages  are  often  of  great 
extent.  They  are  made  up  of  countless  burrows,  and  so 
honeycombed  is  the  country  infested  by  the  little  animals 
that  travel  after  nightfall  is  perilous  for  horses.  The  dirt 
is  heaped  around  the  entrance  to  the  burrows  a  foot  high, 
and  here  the  prairie-dogs,  who  are  sociability  itself,  sit  on 
their  hind  legs  and  gossip  with  one  another.  Owls  and 
rattlesnakes  share  the  underground  homes  with  the  rightful 
owners,  and  all  get  along  together  famously. 

When  the  hunting-party  returned  to  McPherson  its 
members  voted  Will  a  veritable  Nimrod — a  mighty  hunter, 
and  he  was  abundantly  thanked  for  his  masterly  guidance  of 
the  expedition. 

That  winter  a  still  more  distinguished  party  visited  the 
post — the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  and  his  friends.  As  many 
of  my  readers  will  recall,  the  nobleman's  visit  aroused 
much  enthusiasm  in  this  country.  The  East  had  wined  and 
dined  him  to  satiety,  but  wining  and  dining  are  common  to 
all  nations,  and  the  Grand  Duke  desired  to  see  the  wild  life 
of  America — the  Indian  in  his  tepee  and  the  prairie  mon- 
arch in  his  domain,  as  well  as  the  hardy  frontiersman,  who 
feared  neither  savage  warrior  nor  savage  beast. 

The  Grand  Duke  had  hunted  big  game  in  Eastern 
lands,  and  he  was  a  capital  shot.  General  Sheridan 
engineered  this  expedition  also,  and,  as  on  the  previous 
occasion,  he  relied  upon  Will  to  make  it  a  success.  The 
latter  received  word  to  select  a  good  camp  on  Red  Willow 
Creek,  where  game  was  plentiful,  and  to  make  all  needed 
arrangements  for  the  comfort  and  entertainment  of  the 
noble  party.  A  special  feature  suggested  by  Sheridan  for 
the  amusement  and  instruction  of  the  continental  guests 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         193 

was  an  Indian  war-dance  and  Indian  buffalo-hunt.  To 
procure  this  entertainment  it  was  necessary  to  visit  Spotted 
Tail,  chief  of  the  Sioux,  and  persuade  him  to  bring  over  a 
hundred  warriors.  At  this  time  there  was  peace  between 
the  Sioux  and  the  government,  and  the  dance  idea  was 
feasible ;  nevertheless,  a  visit  to  the  Sioux  camp  was  not 
without  its  dangers.  Spotted  Tail  himself  was  seemingly 
sincere  in  a  desire  to  observe  the  terms  of  the  ostensible 
peace  between  his  people  and  the  authorities,  but  many  of 
the  other  Indians  would  rather  have  had  the  scalp  of  the 
Long-haired  Chief  than  a  century  of  peace. 

Will  so  timed  his  trip  as  to  reach  the  Indian  camp  at 
dusk,  and  hitching  his  horse  in  the  timber,  he  wrapped  his 
blanket  closely  about  him,  so  that  in  the  gathering  dark- 
ness he  might  easily  pass  for  a  warrior.  Thus  invested,  he 
entered  the  village,  and  proceeded  to  the  lodge  of  Spotted 
Tail. 

The  conference  with  the  distinguished  redskin  was  made 
smooth  sailing  by  Agent  Todd  Randall,  who  happened  to 
be  on  hand,  and  who  acted  as  interpreter.  The  old  chief 
felt  honored  by  the  invitation  extended  to  him,  and  readily 
promised  that  in  "ten  sleeps"  from  that  night  he,  with  a 
hundred  warriors,  would  be  present  at  the  white  man's 
camp,  which  was  to  be  pitched  at  the  point  where  the  gov- 
ernment trail  crossed  Red  Willow  Creek. 

As  Spotted  Tail  did  not  repose  a  great  amount  of  con- 
fidence in  his  high-spirited  young  men,  he  kept  Will  in  his 
own  lodge  through  the  night.  In  the  morning  the  chief 
assembled  the  camp,  and  presenting  his  guest,  asked  if  his 
warriors  knew  him. 

"It  is  Pa-has-ka,  the  Long-haired  Chief!"  they 
answered. 

Whereupon  Spotted  Tail  informed  them  that  he  had 


194          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

eaten  bread  with  the  Long-haired  Chief,  thus  establishing 
a  bond  of  friendship,  against  violating  which  the  warriors 
were  properly  warned. 

After  that  Will  was  entirely  at  his  ease,  although  there 
were  many  sullen  faces  about  him.  They  had  long  yearned 
for  his  scalp,  and  it  was  slightly  irritating  to  find  it  so  near 
and  yet  so  far. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  HUNT  OF  THE  GRAND  DUKE  ALEXIS. 

A  SPECIAL  train  brought  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  and  party 
to  North  Platte  on  January  12,  1872.  Will  was  presented 
to  the  illustrious  visitor  by  General  Sheridan,  and  was 
much  interested  in  him.  He  was  also  pleased  to  note  that 
General  Custer  made  one  of  the  party. 

Will  had  made  all  the  arrangements,  and  had  every- 
thing complete  when  the  train  pulled  in.  As  soon  as  the 
Grand  Duke  and  party  had  breakfasted,  they  filed  out  to 
get  their  horses  or  to  find  seats  in  the  ambulances.  All 
who  were  mounted  were  arranged  according  to  rank.  Will 
had  sent  one  of  his  guides  ahead,  while  he  was  to  remain 
behind  to  see  that  nothing  was  left  undone.  Just  as  they 
were  to  start,  the  conductor  of  the  Grand  Duke's  train 
came  up  to  Will  and  said  that  Mr.  Thompson  had  not 
received  a  horse.  "What  Thompson?"  asked  Will. 
"Why,  Mr.  Frank  Thompson,  who  has  charge  of  the 
Grand  Duke's  train."  Will  looked  over  the  list  of  names 
sent-  him  by  General  Sheridan  of  those  who  would  require 
saddle-horses,  but  failed  to  find  that  of  Mr.  Thompson. 
However,  he  did  not  wish  to  have  Mr.  Thompson  or  any 
one  else  left  out.  He  had  following  him,  as  he  always  did, 
his  celebrated  war'-horse,  "Buckskin  Joe."  This  horse  was 
not  a  very  prepossessing  "insect."  He  was  buckskin  in 
color,  and  rather  a  sorry-looking  animal,  but  he  was  known 
all  over  the  frontier  as  the  greatest  long-distance  and  best 


196         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

buffalo-horse  living.  Will  had  never  allowed  any  one  but 
himself  to  ride  this  horse,  but  as  he  had  no  other  there  at 
the  time,  he  got  a  saddle  and  bridle,  had  it  put  on  old 
Buckskin  Joe,  and  told  Mr.  Thompson  he  could  ride  him 
until  he  got  where  he  could  get  him  another.  This  horse 
looked  so  different  from  the  beautiful  animals  the  rest  of 
the  party  were  supplied  with  that  Mr.  Thompson  thought 
it  rather  discourteous  to  mount  him  in  such  fashion. 
However,  he  got  on,  and  Will  told  him  to  follow  up,  as  he 
wanted  to  go  ahead  to  where  the  general  was.  As  Mr. 
Thompson  rode  past  the  wagons  and  ambulances  he 
noticed  the  teamsters  pointing  at  him,  and  thinking  the 
men  were  guying  him,  rode  up  to  one  of  them,  and  said, 
"Am  I  not  riding  this  horse  all  right?"  Mr.  Thompson 
felt  some  personal  pride  in  his  horsemanship,  as  he  was  a 
Pennsylvania  fox-hunter. 

The  driver  replied,  "Yes,  sir;  you  ride  all  right." 
"Well,  then,"  said  Thompson,  "it  must  be  this  horse 
you  are  guying." 

The  teamster  replied : 

"Guying  that  horse?     Not  in  a  thousand  years!' 
"Well,  then,  why  am  I  such  a  conspicuous  object?" 
"Why,  sir,  are  you  not  the  king?" 
"The  king?     Why  did  you  take  me  for  the  king?' 
"Because  you  are  riding  that  horse.      I  guess  you  don't 
know  what  horse  you  are  riding,  do  you?     Nobody  gets  to 
ride  that  horse  but  Buffalo  Bill.      So  when  we  all  saw  you 
riding  him  we  supposed  that  of  course  you  were  the  king, 
for  that  horse,  sir,  is  Buckskin  Joe." 

Thompson  had  heard  General  Sheridan  telling  about 
Buckskin  Joe  on  the  way  out,  and  how  Buffalo  Bill  had 
once  run  him  eighty  miles  when  the  Indians  were  after 
him.  Thompson  told  Will  afterward  that  he  grew  about 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         19? 

four  feet  when  he  found  out  that  he  was  riding  that  most 
celebrated  horse  of  the  plains.  He  at  once  galloped  ahead 
to  overtake  Will  and  thank  him  most  heartily  for  allowing 
him  the  honor  of  such  a  mount.  Will  told  him  that  he 
was  going  to  let  the  Grand  Duke  kill  his  first  buffalo  on 
Buckskin  Joe.  "Well,"  replied  Thompson,  "I  want  to 
ask  one  favor  of  you.  Let  me  also  kill  a  buffalo  on  this 
horse."  Will  replied  that  nothing  would  afford  him  greater 
pleasure.  Buckskin  Joe  was  covered  with  glory  on  this 
memorable  hunt,  as  both  the  Grand  Duke  of  Russia  and 
Mr.  Frank  Thompson,  later  president  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad,  killed  their  first  buffalo  mounted  on  his  back, 
and  my  brother  ascribes  to  old  Joe  the  acquisition  of  Mr. 
Frank  Thompson's  name  to  his  list  of  life  friendships. 
This  hunt  was  an  unqualified  success,  nothing  occurring  to 
mar  one  day  of  it. 

Spotted  Tail  was  true  to  his  promise.  He  and  his  hun- 
dred braves  were  on  hand,  shining  in  the  full  glory  of  war 
paint  and  feathers,  and  the  war-dance  they  perfomed  was 
of  extraordinary  interest  to  the  Grand  Duke  and  his  friends. 
The  outlandish  contortions  and  grimaces  of  the  Indians, 
their  leaps  and  crouchings,  their  fiendish  yells  and  whoops, 
made  up  a  barbaric  jangle  of  picture  and  sound  not  soon 
to  be  forgotten.  To  the  European  visitors  the  scene  was 
picturesque  rather  than  ghastly,  but  it  was  not  a  pleasing 
spectacle  to  the  old  Indian  fighters  looking  on.  There 
were  too  many  suggestions  of  bloodshed  and  massacre  in 
the  past,  and  of  bloodshed  and  massacre  yet  to  come. 

The  Indian  t>uff  ale-hunt  followed  the  Terpsichorean 
revelry,  and  all  could  enjoy  the  skill  and  strength  displayed 
by  the  red  huntsmen.  One  warrior,  Two-Lance  by  name, 
performed  a  feat  that  no  other  living  Indian  could  do ;  he 


198         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

sent  an  arrow  entirely  through  the  body  of  a  bull  running 
at  full  speed. 

General  Sheridan  desired  that  the  Grand  Duke  should 
carry  away  with  him  a  knowledge  of  every  phase  of  life  on 
the  frontier,  and  when  the  visitors  were  ready  to  drive  to 
the  railroad  station,  Will  was  requested  to  illustrate,  for 
their  edification,  the  manner  in  which  a  stagecoach  and 
six  were  driven  over  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Will  was  delighted  at  the  idea;  so  was  Alexis  at  the 
outset,  as  he  had  little  idea  of  what  was  in  store  for  him. 
The  Grand  Duke  and  the  general  were  seated  in  a  closed 
carriage  drawn  by  six  horses,  and  were  cautioned  to  fasten 
their  hats  securely  on  their  heads,  and  to  hang  onto  the 
carriage;  then  Will  climbed  to  the  driver's  seat. 

"Just  imagine,"  said  he  to  his  passengers,  "that  fifty 
Indians  are  after  us."  And  off  went  the  horses,  with  a 
jump  that  nearly  spilled  the  occupants  of  the  coach  into 
the  road. 

The  three  miles  to  the  station  were  covered  in  just  ten 
minutes,  and  the  Grand  Duke  had  the  ride  of  his  life. 
The  carriage  tossed  like  a  ship  in  a  gale,  and  no  crew  ever 
clung  to  a  life-line  with  more  desperate  grip  than  did  Will's 
passengers  to  their  seats.  Had  the  fifty  Indians  of  the 
driver's  fancy  been  whooping  behind,  he  would  not  have 
plied  the  whip  more  industriously,  or  been  deafer  to  the 
groans  and  ejaculations  of  his  fares.  When  the  carriage 
finally  drew  up  with  another  teeth-shaking  jerk,  and  Will, 
sombrero  in  hand,  opened  the  coach  door  to  inquire  of 
his  Highness  how  he  had  enjoyed  the  ride,  the  Grand  Duke 
replied,  with  suspicious  enthusiasm: 

"I  would  not  have  missed  it  for  a  large  sum  of  money; 
but  rather  than  repeat  it,  I  would  return  to  Russia  via 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         199 

Alaska,  swim  Bering  Strait,  and  finish  my  journey  on  one 
of  your  government  mules." 

This  ride  completed  a  trip  which  the  noble  party  pro- 
nounced satisfactory  in  every  detail.  The  Grand  Duke 
invited  Will  into  his  private  car,  where  he  received  the 
thanks  of  the  company  for  his  zeal  and  skill  as  pilot  of  a 
hunting-party.  He  was  also  invited  by  Alexis  to  visit 
him  at  his  palace  should  he  ever  make  a  journey  to  Russia, 
and  was,  moreover,  the  recipient  of  a  number  of  valuable 
souvenirs. 

At  that  time  Will  had  very  little  thought  of  crossing 
the  seas,  but  he  did  decide  to  visit  the  East,  whither  he 
had  more  than  once  journeyed  in  fancy.  The  Indians 
were  comparatively  quiet,  and  he  readily  obtained  a  leave 
of  absence. 

The  first  stopping-place  was  Chicago,  where  he  was 
entertained  by  General  Sheridan ;  thence  he  went  to  New 
York,  to  be  kindly  received  by  James  Gordon  Bennett, 
Leonard  and  Lawrence  Jerome,  J.  G.  Heckscher,  and 
others,  who,  it  will  be  recalled,  were  members  of  the  hunt- 
ing-party of  the  preceding  year.  Ned  Buntline  also  rendered 
his  sojourn  in  the  metropolis  pleasant  in  many  ways.  The 
author  had  carried  out  his  intention  of  writing  a  story  of 
Western  life  with  Scout  Cody  for  the  hero,  and  the  result, 
having  been  dramatized,  was  doing  a  flourishing  business 
at  one  of  the  great  city's  theaters.  Will  made  one  of  a 
party  that  attended  a  performance  of  the  play  one  evening, 
and  it  was  shortly  whispered  about  the  house  that  ''Buffalo 
Bill"  himself  was  in  the  audience.  It  is  customary  to  call 
for  the  author  of  a  play,  and  no  doubt  the  author  of  this 
play  had  been  summoned  before  the  footlights  in  due 
course,  but  on  this  night  the  audience  demanded  the 
hero.  To  respond  to  the  call  was  an  ordeal  for  which 


200         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Will  was  unprepared ;  but  there  was  no  getting  out  of  it, 
and  he  faced  a  storm  of  applause.  The  manager  of  the 
performance,  enterprising  like  all  of  his  profession,  offered 
Will  five  hundred  dollars  a  week  to  remain  in  New  York 
and  play  the  part  of  " Buffalo  Bill,"  but  the  offer  was 
declined  with  thanks. 

During  his  stay  in  the  city  Will  was  made  the  guest  of 
honor  at  sundry  luncheons  and  dinners  given  by  his 
wealthy  entertainers.  He  found  considerable  trouble  in 
keeping  his  appointments  at  first,  but  soon  caught  on  to  the 
to  him  unreasonable  hours  at  which  New  Yorkers  dined, 
supped,  and  breakfasted.  The  sense  of  his  social  obliga- 
tions lay  so  heavily  on  his  mind  that  he  resolved  to  balance 
accounts  with  a  dinner  at  which  he  should  be  the  host. 
An  inventory  of  cash  on  hand  discovered  the  sum  of  fifty 
dollars  that  might  be  devoted  to  playing  Lucullus.  Surely 
that  would  more  than  pay  for  all  that  ten  or  a  dozen  men 
could  eat  at  one  meal.  ' 'However,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"I  don't  care  if  it  takes  the  whole  fifty.  It's  all  in  a 
lifetime,  anyway." 

In  all  confidence  he  hied  him  to  Delmonico's,  at  which 
famous  restaurant  he  had  incurred  a  large  share  of  his 
social  obligations.  He  ordered  the  finest  dinner  that  could 
be  prepared  for  a  party  of  twelve,  and  set  as  date  the  night 
preceding  his  departure  for  the  West.  The  guests  were 
invited  with  genuine  Western  hospitality.  His  friends  had 
been  kind  to  him,  and  he  desired  to  show  them  that  a  man 
of  the  West  could  not  only  appreciate  such  things,  but 
return  them. 

The  dinner  was  a  thorough  success.  Not  an  invited 
guest  was  absent.  The  conversation  sparkled.  Quip  and 
repartee  shot  across  the  " festive  board,"  and  all  went 
merry  as  a  dinner-bell.  The  host  was  satisfied,  and  proud 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         201 

withal.  The  next  morning  he  approached  Delmonico's 
cashier  with  an  air  of  reckless  prodigality. 

"My  bill,  please,"  said  he,  and  when  he  got  it,  he 
looked  hard  at  it  for  several  minutes.  It  dawned  on  him 
gradually  that  his  fifty  dollars  would  about  pay  for  one 
plate.  As  he  confided  to  us  afterward,  that  little  slip  of 
paper  frightened  him  more  than  could  the  prospect  of  a 
combat  single-handed  with  a  whole  tribe  of  Sioux  Indians. 

Unsophisticated  Will !  There  was,  as  he  discovered,  a 
wonderful  difference  between  a  dinner  at  Delmonico's  and 
a  dinner  on  the  plains.  For  the  one,  the  four  corners  of 
the  earth  are  drawn  upon  to  provide  the  bill  of  fare;  for 
the  other,  all  one  needs  is  an  ounce  of  lead  and  a  charge  of 
powder,  a  bundle  of  fagots  and  a  match. 

But  it  would  never  do  to  permit  the  restaurant  cashier 
to  suspect  that  the  royal  entertainer  of  the  night  before  was 
astonished  at  his  bill;  so  he  requested  that  the  account  be 
forwarded  to  his  hotel,  and  sought  the  open  air,  where  he 
might  breathe  more  freely. 

There  was  but  one  man  in  New  York  to  whom  he  felt 
he  could  turn  in  his  dilemma,  and  that  was  Ned  Buntline. 
One  who  could  invent  plots  for  stories,  and  extricate  his 
characters  from  all  sorts  of  embarrassing  situations,  should 
be  able  to  invent  a  method  of  escape  from  so  compara- 
tively simple  a  perplexity  as  a  tavern  bill.  Will's  confi- 
dence in  the  wits  of  his  friend  was  not  unfounded.  His  first 
great  financial  panic  was  safely  weathered,  but  how  it  was 
done  I  do  not  know  to  this  day. 

One  of  Will's  main  reasons  for  visiting  the  East  was  to 
look  up  our  only  living  relatives  on  mother's  side — Colonel 
Henry  R.  Guss  and  family,  of  Westchester,  Pennsylvania. 
Mother's  sister,  who  had  married  this  gentleman,  was  not 
living,  and  we  had  never  met  him  or  any  of  his  family. 


202         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Ned    Buntline    accompanied    Will    on    his    trip    to    West- 
chester. 

To  those  who  have  passed  through  the  experience  of 
waiting  in  a  strange  drawing-room  for  the  coming  of 
relatives  one  has  never  seen,  and  of  whose  personality  one 
has  but  the  vaguest  idea,  there  is  the  uncertainty  of  the 
reception.  Will  it  be  frank  and  hearty,  or  reserved  and 
doubtful?  During  the  few  minutes  succeeding  the  giving 
of  his  and  Buntline's  cards  to  the  servant,  Will  rather 
wished  that  the  elegant  reception-room  might  be  meta- 
morphosed into  the  Western  prairie.  But  presently  the 
entrance  to  the  parlor  was  brightened  by  the  loveliest  girl 
he  had  ever  looked  upon,  and  following  her  walked  a 
courtly,  elegant  gentleman.  These  were  Cousin  Lizzie 
and  Uncle  Henry.  There  was  no  doubt  of  the  quality 
of  the  welcome;  it  was  most  cordial,  and  Will  enjoyed 
a  delightful  visit  with  his  relatives.  For  his  cousin  he  con- 
ceived an  instant  affection.  The  love  he  had  held  for 
his  mother — the  purest  and  strongest  of  his  affections — 
became  the  heritage  of  this  beautiful  girl. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THEATRICAL   EXPERIENCES. 

THE  Fifth  Cavalry  at  Fort  McPherson  had  been  ordered 
to  Arizona,  and  was  replaced  by  the  Third  Cavalry  under 
command  of  General  Reynolds.  Upon  Will's  return  to 
McPherson  he  was  at  once  obliged  to  take  the  field  to 
look  for  Indians  that  had  raided  the  station  during  his 
absence  and  carried  off  a  considerable  number  of  horses. 
Captain  Meinhold  and  Lieutenant  Lawson  commanded  the 
company  dispatched  to  recover  the  stolen  property.  Will 
acted  as  guide,  and  had  as  an  assistant  T.  B.  Omohundro, 
better  known  by  his  frontier  name  of  " Texas  Jack." 

Will  was  not  long  in  finding  Indian  tracks,  and  accom- 
panied by  six  men,  he  went  forward  to  locate  the  redskin 
camp.  They  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when 
they  sighted  a  small  party  of  Indians,  with  horses  grazing. 
There  were  just  thirteen  Indians — an  unlucky  number — and 
Will  feared  that  they  might  discover  the  scouting  party 
should  it  attempt  to  return  to  the  main  command.  He 
had  but  to  question  his  companions  to  find  them  ready  to 
follow  wheresoever  he  might  lead,  and  they  moved  cau- 
tiously toward  the  Indian  camp. 

At  the  proper  moment  the  seven  rushed  upon  the 
unsuspecting  warriors,  who  sprang  for  their  horses  and  gave 
battle.  But  the  rattle  of  the  rifles  brought  Captain  Mein- 
hold to  the  scene,  and  when  the  Indians  saw  the  reinforce- 
ments coming  up  they  turned  and  fled.  Six  of  their 

203 


204         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

number  were  dead  on  the  plain,  and  nearly  all  of  the  stolen 
horses  were  recovered.  One  soldier  was  killed,  and  this 
was  one  of  the  few  occasions  when  Will  received  a 
wound. 

And  now  once  more  was  the  versatile  plainsman  called 
upon  to  enact  a  new  role.  Returning  from  a  long  scout  in 
the  fall  of  1872,  he  found  that  his  friends  had  made  him  a 
candidate  for  the  Nebraska  legislature  from  the  twenty- 
sixth  district.  He  had  never  thought  seriously  of  politics, 
and  had  a  well-defined  doubt  of  his  fitness  as  a  law-maker. 
He  made  no  campaign,  but  was  elected  by  a  flattering 
majority.  He  was  now  privileged  to  prefix  the  title 
"Honorable"  to  his  name,  and  later  this  was  supplanted 
by  "Colonel" — a  title  won  in  the  Nebraska  National 
Guard,  and  which  he  claims  is  much  better  suited  to  his 
attainments. 

Will,  unlike  his  father,  .had  no  taste  for  politics  or  for 
political  honors.  I  recall  one  answer — so  characteristic  of 
the  man — to  some  friends  who  were  urging  him  to  enter 
the  political  arena.  "No,"  said  he,  "politics  are  by  far 
too  deep  for  me.  I  think  I  can  hold  my  own  in  any  fair 
and  no  foul  fight;  but  politics  seem  to  me  all  foul  and  no 
fair.  I  thank  you,  my  friends,  but  I  must  decline  to  set 
out  on  this  trail,  which  I  know  has  more  cactus  burs 
to  the  square  inch  than  any  I  ever  followed  on  the 
plains." 

Meantime  Ned  Buntline  had  been  nurturing  an  ambi- 
tious project.  He  had  been  much  impressed  by  the  fine 
appearance  made  by  Will  in  the  New  York  theater,  and 
was  confident  that  a  fortune  awaited  the  scout  if  he  would 
consent  to  enter  the  theatrical  profession.  He  conceived 
the  idea  of  writing  a  drama  entitled  "The  Scout  of  the 
Plains,"  in  which  Will  was  to  assume  the  title  role  and 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         205 

shine  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude.  The  bait  he 
dangled  was  that  the  play  should  be  made  up  entirely  of 
frontier  scenes,  which  would  not  only  entertain  the  public, 
but  instruct  it. 

The  bait  was  nibbled  at,  and  finally  swallowed,  but 
there  was  a  proviso  that  Wild  Bill  and  Texas  Jack  must 
first  be  won  over  to  act  as  "pards"  in  the  enterprise.  He 
telegraphed  his  two  friends  that  he  needed  their  aid  in  an 
important  business  matter,  and  went  to  Chicago  to  meet 
them.  He  was  well  assured  that  if  he  had  given  them  an 
inkling  of  the  nature  of  the  "business  matter,"  neither 
would  put  in  an  appearance;  but  he  relied  on  Ned  Bunt- 
line's  persuasive  powers,  which  were  well  developed. 

There  had  never  been  a  time  when  Wild  Bill  and  Texas 
Jack  declined  to  follow  Will's  lead,  and  on  a  certain  morn- 
ing the  trio  presented  themselves  at  the  Palmer  House  in 
Chicago  for  an  interview  with  Colonel  Judson. 

The  author  could  scarcely  restrain  his  delight.  All 
three  of  the  scouts  were  men  of  fine  physique  and  dashing 
appearance.  It  was  very  possible  that  they  had  one  or  two 
things  to  learn  about  acting,  but  their  inexperience  would 
be  more  than  balanced  by  their  reputation  and  personal 
appearance,  and  the  knowledge  that  they  were  enacting 
on  the  stage  mock  scenes  of  what  to  them  had  oft  been 
stern  reality. 

"Don't  shoot,  pards!"  began  Will,  when  the  confer- 
ence opened.  "I  guess,  Judson,"  he  continued,  after 
vainly  trying  to  find  a  diplomatic  explanation,  "you'd 
better  tell  them  what  we  want." 

Buntline  opened  with  enthusiasm,  but  he  did  not  kindle 
Wild  Bill  and  Texas  Jack,  who  looked  as  if  they  might  at 
any  moment  grab  their  sombreros  and  stampede  for  the 
frontier.  Will  turned  the  scale. 


206         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

" We're  bound  to  make  a  fortune  at  it,"  said  he. 
"Try  it  for  a  while,  anyway." 

The  upshot  of  a  long  discussion  was  that  the  scouts 
gave  a  reluctant  consent  to  a  much-dreaded  venture.  Will 
made  one  stipulation. 

"If  the  Indians  get  on  the  rampage,"  said  he,  "we 
must  be  allowed  leave  of  absence  to  go  back  and  settle  them. ' ' 

"All  right,  boys,"  said  Buntline;  "that  shall  be  put  in 
the  contract.  And  if  you're  called  back  into  the  army  to 
fight  redskins,  I'll  go  with  you." 

This  reply*  established  the  author  firmly  in  the  esteem 
of  the  scouts.  The  play  was  written  in  four  hours  (most 
playwrights  allow  themselves  at  least  a  week),  and  the 
actor-scouts  received  their  "parts."  Buntline  engaged  a 
company  to  support  the  stellar  trio,  and  the  play  was 
widely  advertised. 

When  the  critical  "first  night"  arrived,  none  of  the 
scouts  knew  a  line  of  his  part,  but  each  had  acquired  all 
the  varieties  of  stage  fright  known  to  the  profession. 
Buntline  had  hinted  to  them  the  possibility  of  something 
of  the  sort,  but  they  had  not  realized  to  what  a  condition 
of  abject  dismay  a  man  may  be  reduced  by  the  sight  of  a 
few  hundred  inoffensive  people  in  front  of  a  theater  curtain. 
It  would  have  done  them  no  good  to  have  told  them  (as  is 
the  truth)  that  many  experienced  actors  have  touches  of 
stage  fright,  as  well  as  the  unfortunate  novice.  All  three 
declared  that  they  would  rather  face  a  band  of  war-painted 
Indians,  or  undertake  to  check  a  herd  of  stampeding  buffa- 
loes, than  face  the  peaceful-looking  audience  that  was  wait- 
ing to  criticise  their  Thespian  efforts. 

Like  almost  all  amateurs,  they  insisted  on  peering 
through  the  peep-holes  in  the  curtain,  which  augmented 
their  nervousness,  and  if  the  persuasive  Colonel  Judson  had 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         207 

not  been  at  their  elbows,  reminding  them  that  he,  also, 
was  to  take  part  in  the  play,  it  is  more  than  likely  they 
would  have  slipped  quietly  out  at  the  stage  door  and 
bought  railway  passage  to  the  West. 

Presently  the  curtain  rolled  up,  and  the  audience 
applauded  encouragingly  as  three  quaking  six-footers,  clad 
in  buckskin,  made  their  first  bow  before  the  footlights. 

I  have  said  that  Will  did  not  know  a  line  of  his  part, 
nor  did  he  when  the  time  to  make  his  opening  speech 
arrived.  It  had  been  faithfully  memorized,  but  oozed  from 
his  mind  like  the  courage  from  Bob  Acres's  finger-tips. 
"Evidently,"  thought  Buntline,  who  was  on  the  stage  with 
him,  "he  needs  time  to  recover."  So  he  asked  carelessly: 

"What  have  you  been  about  lately,  Bill?" 

This  gave  "The  Scout  of  the  Plains"  an  inspiration. 
In  glancing  over  the  audience,  he  had  recognized  in  one 
of  the  boxes  a  wealthy  gentleman  named  Milligan,  whom 
he  had  once  guided  on  a  big  hunt  near  McPherson.  The 
expedition  had  been  written  up  by  the  Chicago  papers,  and 
the  incidents  of  it  were  well  known. 

"I've  been  out  on  a  hunt  with  Milligan,"  replied  Will, 
and  the  house  came  down.  Milligan  was  quite  popular, 
but  had  been  the  butt  of  innumerable  jokes  because  of  his 
alleged  scare  over  the  Indians.  The  applause  and  laughter 
that  greeted  the  sally  stocked  the  scout  with  confidence, 
but  confidence  is  of  no  use  if  one  has  forgotten  his  part. 
It  became  manifest  to  the  playwright-actor  that  he  would 
have  to  prepare  another  play  in  place  of  the  one  he  had 
expected  to  perform,  and  that  he  must  prepare  it  on  the  spot. 

"Tell  us  about  it,  Bill,"  said  he,  and  the  prompter 
groaned. 

One  of  the  pleasures  of  frontier  life  consists  in  telling 
stories  around  the  camp-fire.  A  man  who  ranks  as  a  good 


208         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

frontiersman  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  good  raconteur.  Will 
was  at  ease  immediately,  and  proceeded  to  relate  the  story 
of  Milligan's  hunt  in  his  own  words.  That  it  was  amusing 
was  attested  by  the  frequent  rounds  of  applause.  The 
prompter,  with  a  commendable  desire  to  get  things  run- 
ning smoothly,  tried  again  and  again  to  give  Will  his  cue, 
but  even  cues  had  been  forgotten. 

The  dialogue  of  that  performance  must  have  been 
delightfully  absurd.  Neither  Texas  Jack  nor  Wild  Bill 
was  able  to  utter  a  line  of  his  part  during  the  entire  even- 
ing. In  the  Indian  scenes,  however,  they  scored  a  great 
success;  here  was  work  that  did  not  need  to  be  painfully 
memorized,  and  the  mock  red  men  were  slain  at  an  aston- 
ishing rate. 

Financially  the  play  proved  all  that  its  projectors  could 
ask  for.  Artistically — well,  the  •  critics  had  a  great  deal  of 
fun  with  the  hapless  dramatist.  The  professionals  in  the 
company  had  played  their  parts  acceptably,  and,  oddly 
enough,  the  scouts  were  let  down  gently  in  the  criticisms; 
but  the  critics  had  no  means  of  knowing  that  the  stars  of 
the  piece  had  provided  their  own  dialogue,  and  poor  Ned 
Buntline  was  plastered  with  ridicule.  It  had  got  out  that 
the  play  was  written  in  four  hours,  and  in  mentioning  this 
fact,  one  paper  wondered,  with  delicate  sarcasm,  what  the 
dramatist  had  been  doing  all  that  time.  Buntline  had 
played  the  part  of  "Gale  Durg,"  who  met  death  in  the 
second  act,  and  a  second  paper,  commenting  on  this,  sug- 
gested that  it  would  have  been  a  happy  consummation  had 
the  death  occurred  before  the  play  was  written.  A  third 
critic  pronounced  it  a  drama  that  might  be  begun  in  the 
middle  and  played  both  ways,  or  played  backward,  quite 
as  well  as  the  way  in  which  it  had  been  written. 

However,  nothing  succeeds  like  success.     A  number  of 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         209 

managers  offered  to  take  hold  of  the  company,  and  others 
asked  for  entrance  to  the  enterprise  as  partners.  Ned 
Buntline  took  his  medicine  from  the  critics  with  a  smiling 
face,  for  "let  him  laugh  who  wins." 

The  scouts  soon  got  over  their  stage  fright,  in  the 
course. of  time  were  able  to  remember  their  parts,  and  did 
fully  their  share  toward  making  the  play  as  much  of  a  suc- 
cess artistically  as  it  was  financially.  From  Chicago  the 
company  went  to  St.  Louis,  thence  to  Cincinnati  and 
other  large  cities,  and  everywhere  drew  large  and  appreci- 
ative houses. 

When  the  season  closed,  in  Boston,  and  Will  had  made 
his  preparations  to  return  to  Nebraska,  an  English  gentle- 
man named  Medley,  presented  himself,  with  a  request  that 
the  scout  act  as  guide  on  a  big  hunt  and  camping  trip 
through  Western  territory.  The  pay  offered  was  liberal — 
a  thousand  dollars  a  month  and  expenses — and  Will 
accepted  the  offer.  He  spent  that  summer  in  his  old  occu- 
pation, and  the  ensuing  winter  continued  his  tour  as  a 
star  of  the  drama.  Wild  Bill  and  Texas  Jack  consented 
again  to  "support"  him,  but  the  second  season  proved  too 
much  for  the  patience  of  the  former,  and  he  attempted  to 
break  through  the  contract  he  had  signed  for  the  season. 
The  manager,  of  course,  refused  to  release  him,  but  Wild 
Bill  conceived  the  notion  that  under  certain  circumstances 
the  company  would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  him. 

That  night  he  put  his  plan  into  execution  by  discharg- 
ing his  blank  cartridges  so  near  the  legs  of  the  dead  Indians 
on  the  stage  that  the  startled  "supers"  came  to  life  with 
more  realistic  yells  than  had  accompanied  their  deaths. 
This  was  a  bit  of  "business"  not  called  for  in  the  play- 
book,  and  while  the  audience  was  vastly  entertained,  the 
management  withheld  its  approval. 


210         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Will  was  delegated  to  expostulate  with  the  reckless 
Indian-slayer;  but  Wild  Bill  remarked  calmly  that  he 
"hadn't  hurt  the  fellows  any,"  and  he  continued  to  indulge 
in  his  innocent  pastime. 

Severe  measures  were  next  resorted  to.  He  was 
informed  that  he  must  stop  shooting  the  Indians  after  they 
were  dead,  or  leave  the  company.  This  was  what  Wild 
Bill  had  hoped  for,  and  when  the  curtain  went  up  on  the 
next  performance  he  was  to  be  seen  in  the  audience,  enjoy- 
ing the  play  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  mixed  up 
with  it. 

Will  sympathized  with  his  former  "support,"  but  he 
had  a  duty  to  perform,  and  faithfully  endeavored  to  per- 
suade the  recreant  actor  to  return  to  the  company.  Per- 
suasion went  for  nothing,  so  the  contract  was  annulled, 
and  Wild  Bill  returned  to  his  beloved  plains. 

The  next  season  Will  removed  his  family  to  Rochester, 
and  organized  a  theatrical  company  of  his  own.  There 
was  too  much  artificiality  about  stage  life  to  suit  one  that 
had  been  accustomed  to  stern  reality,  and  he  sought  to  do 
away  with  this  as  much  as  possible  by  introducing  into  his 
own  company  a  band  of  real  Indians.  The  season  of 
1875-76  opened  brilliantly;  the  company  played  to  crowded 
houses,  and  Will  made  a  large  financial  success. 

One  night  in  April,  when  the  season  was  nearing  its 
close,  a  telegram  was  handed  to  him,  just  as  he  was  about 
to  step  upon  the  stage.  It  was  from  his  wife,  and  sum- 
moned him  to  Rochester,  to  the  bedside  of  his  only  son, 
Kit  Carson  Cody.  He  consulted  with  his  manager,  and  it 
was  arranged  that  after  the  first  act  he  should  be  excused, 
that  he  might  catch  the  train. 

That  first  act  was  a  miserable  experience,  though  the 
audience  did  not  suspect  that  the  actor's  heart  was  almost 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         21 1 

stopped  by  fear  and  anxiety.  He  caught  his  train,  and 
the  manager,  John  Burke,  an  actor  of  much  experience, 
played  out  the  part. 

It  was,  too,  a  miserable  ride  to  Rochester,  filled  up 
with  the  gloomiest  of  forebodings,  heightened  by  memories 
of  every  incident  in  the  precious  little  life  now  in  danger. 

Kit  was  a  handsome  child,  with  striking  features  and 
curly  hair.  His  mother  always  dressed  him  in  the  finest 
clothes,  and  tempted  by  these  combined  attractions,  gyp- 
sies had  carried  him  away  the  previous  summer.  But  Kit 
was  the  son  of  a  scout,  and  his  young  eyes  were  sharp. 
He  marked  the  trail  followed  by  his  captors,  and  at  the 
first  opportunity  gave  them  the  slip  and  got  safely  home, 
exclaiming  as  he  toddled  into  the  sobbing  family  circle, 
"I  turned  back  adain,  mama;  don't  cry."  Despite  his 
anxiety,  Will  smiled  at  the  recollection  of  the  season  when 
his  little  son  had  been  a  regular  visitor  at  the  theater.  The 
little  fellow  knew  that  the  most  important  feature  of  a 
dramatic  performance,  from  a  management's  point  of  view, 
is  a  large  audience.  He  watched  the  seats  fill  in  keen 
anxiety,  and  the  moment  the  curtain  rose  and  his  father 
appeared  on  the  stage,  he  would  make  a  trumpet  of  his  lit- 
tle hands,  and  shout  from  his  box,  "Good  house,  papa!" 
The  audience  learned  to  expect  and  enjoy  this  bit  of 
by-play  between  father  and  son.  His  duty  performed, 
Kit  settled  himself  in  his  seat,  and  gave  himself  up  to 
undisturbed  enjoyment  of  the  play. 

When  Will  reached  Rochester  he  found  his  son  still 
alive,  though  beyond  the  reach  of  medical  aid.  He  was 
burning  up  with  fever,  but  still  conscious,  and  the  little 
arms  were  joyfully  lifted  to  clasp  around  his  father's  neck. 
He  lingered  during  the  next  day  and  into  the  night,  but 
the  end  came,  and  Will  faced  a  great  sorrow  of  his  life. 


212  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

He  had  built  fond  hopes  for  his  son,  and  in  a  breath  they 
had  been  swept  away.  His  boyhood  musings  over  the 
prophecy  of  the  fortune-teller  had  taken  a  turn  when  his 
own  boy  was  born.  It  might  be  Kit's  destiny  to  become 
President  of  the  United  States;  it  was  not  his  own.  Now, 
hope  and  fear  had  vanished  together,  the  fabric  of  the 
dream  had  dissolved,  and  left  "not  a  rack  behind." 

Little  Kit  was  laid  to  rest  in  Mount  Hope  Cemetery, 
April  24,  1876.  He  is  not  dead,  but  sleeping;  not  lost, 
but  gone  before.  He  has  joined  the  innumerable  company 
of  the  white-souled  throng  in  the  regions  of  the  blest.  He 
has  gone  to  aid  my  mother  in  her  mission  unfulfilled — that 
of  turning  heavenward  the  eyes  of  those  that  loved  them  so 
dearly  here  on  earth. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  GOVERNMENT'S  INDIAN  POLICY. 

VERY  glad  was  the  sad-hearted  father  that  the  theatrical 
season  was  so  nearly  over.  The  mummeries  of  stage  life 
were  more  distasteful  to  him  than  ever  when  he  returned 
to  his  company  with  his  crushing  grief  fresh  upon  him. 
He  played  nightly  to  crowded  houses,  but  it  was  plain  that 
his  heart  was  not  in  his  work.  A  letter  from  Colonel 
Mills,  informing  him  that  his  services  were  needed  in  the 
army,  came  as  a  welcome  relief.  He  canceled  his  few 
remaining  dates,  and  disbanded  his  company  with  a  sub- 
stantial remuneration. 

This  was  the  spring  of  the  Centennial  year.  It  has  also 
been  called  the  "Custer  year, "  for  during  that  summer  the 
gallant  general  and  his  heroic  Three  Hundred  fell  in  their 
unequal  contest  with  Sitting  Bull  and  his  warriors. 

Sitting  Bull  was  one  of  the  ablest  chiefs  and  fighters 
the  Sioux  nation  ever  produced.  He  got  his  name  from 
the  fact  that  once  when  he  had  shot  a  buffalo  he  sprang 
astride  of  it  to  skin  it,  and  the  wounded  bull  rose  on  its 
haunches  with  the  Indian  on  its  back.  He  combined 
native  Indian  cunning  with  the  strategy  and  finesse  needed 
to  make  a  great  general,  and  his  ability  as  a  leader  was 
conceded  alike  by  red  and  white  man.  A  dangerous  man 
at  best,  the  wrongs  his  people  had  suffered  roused  all  his 
Indian  cruelty,  vindictiveness,  hatred,  and  thirst  for 
revenge. 

213 


214         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

The  Sioux  war  of  1876  had  its  origin,  like  most  of  its 
predecessors  and  successors,  in  an  act  of  injustice  on  the 
part  of  the  United  States  government  and  a  violation  of 
treaty  rights. 

In  1868  a  treaty  had  been  made  with  the  Sioux,  by 
which  the  Black  Hills  country  was  reserved  for  their  exclu- 
sive use,  no  settling  by  white  men  to  be  allowed.  In  1874 
gold  was  discovered,  and  the  usual  gold  fever  was  followed 
by  a  rush  of  whites  into  the  Indian  country.  The  Sioux 
naturally  resented  the  intrusion,  and  instead  of  attempting 
to  placate  them,  to  the  end  that  the  treaty  might  be 
revised,  the  government  sent  General  Custer  into  the  Black 
Hills  with  instructions  to  intimidate  the  Indians  into  sub- 
mission. But  Custer  was  too  wise,  too  familar  with  Indian 
nature,  to  adhere  to  his  instructions  to  the  letter.  Under 
cover  of  a  flag  of  truce  a  council  was  arranged.  At  this 
gathering  coffee,  sugar,  and  bacon  were  distributed  among 
the  Indians,  and  along  with  those  commodities  Custer 
handed  around  some  advice.  This  was  to  the  effect  that 
it  would  be  to  the  advantage  of  the  Sioux  if  they  permitted 
the  miners  to  occupy  the  gold  country.  The  coffee,  sugar, 
and  bacon  were  accepted  thankfully  by  Lo,  but  no  nation, 
tribe,  or  individual  since  the  world  began  has  ever  wel- 
comed advice.  It  was  thrown  away  on  Lo.  He  received 
it  with  such  an  air  of  indifference  and  in  such  a  stoical 
silence  that  General  Custer  had  no  hope  his  mission  had 
succeeded. 

In  1875  General  Crook  was  sent  into  the  Hills  to  make 
a  farcical  demonstration  of  the  government's  desire  to 
maintain  good  faith,  but  no  one  was  deceived,  the  Indians 
least  of  all.  In  August  Custer  City  was  laid  out,  and  in 
two  weeks  its  population  numbered  six  hundred.  General 
Crook  drove  out  the  inhabitants,  and  as  he  marched  tri- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         215 

umphantly  out  of  one  end  of  the  village  the  people  marched 
in  again  at  the  other. 

The  result  of  this  continued  bad  faith  was  inevitable; 
everywhere  the  Sioux  rose  in  arms.  Strange  as  it  might 
seem  to  one  who  has  not  followed  the  government's  remark- 
able Indian  policy,  it  had  dispensed  firearms  to  the  Indi- 
ans with  a  generous  hand.  The  government's  Indian 
policy,  condensed,  was  to  stock  the  red  man  with  rifles 
and  cartridges,  and  then  provide  him  with  a  first-class 
reason  for  using  them  against  the  whites.  During  May, 
June,  and  July  of  that  year  the  Sioux  had  received  1,120 
Remington  and  Winchester  rifles  and  13,000  rounds  of 
patent  ammunition.  During  that  year  they  received  sev- 
eral thousand  stands  of  arms  and  more  than  a  million 
rounds  of  ammunition,  and  for  three  years  before  that  they 
had  been  regularly  supplied  with  weapons.  The  Sioux 
uprising  of  1876  was  expensive  for  the  government.  One 
does  not  have  to  go  far  to  find  the  explanation. 

Will  expected  to  join  General  Crook,  but  on  reaching 
Chicago  he  found  that  General  Carr  was  still  in  command 
of  the  Fifth  Cavalry,  and  had  sent  a  request  that  Will 
return  to  his  old  regiment.  Carr  was  at  Cheyenne;  thither 
Will  hastened  at  once.  He  was  met  at  the  station  by  Cap- 
tain Charles  King,  the  well-known  author,  and  later  serving 
as  brigadier-general  at  Manila,  then  adjutant  of  the  regiment. 
As  the  pair  rode  into  camp  the  cry  went  up,  "Here  comes 
Buffalo  Bill!"  Three  ringing  cheers  expressed  the  delight 
of  the  troopers  over  his  return  to  his  old  command,  and 
Will  was  equally  delighted  to  meet  his  quondam  compan- 
ions. He  was  appointed  guide  and  chief  of  scouts,  and 
the  regiment  proceeded  to  Laramie.  From  there  they 
were  ordered  into  the  Black  Hills  country,  and  Colonel 
Merritt  replaced  General  Carr. 


216         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

The  incidents  of  Custer's  fight  and  fall  are  so  well  known 
that  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  them  here.  It  was  a  bet- 
ter fight  than  the  famous  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  at 
Balaklava,  for  not  one  of  the  three  hundred  came  forth 
from  the  "jaws  of  death."  As  at  Balaklava,  "some  one 
had  blundered,"  not  once,  but  many  times,  and  Custer's 
command  discharged  the  entire  debt  with  their  lifeblood. 

When  the  news  of  the  tragedy  reached  the  main  army, 
preparations  were  made  to  move  against  the  Indians  in  force. 
The  Fifth  Cavalry  was  instructed  to  cut  off,  if  possible, 
eight  hundred  Cheyenne  warriors  on  their  way  to  join  the 
Sioux,  and  Colonel  Wesley  Merritt,  with  five  hundred  men, 
hastened  to  Hat,  or  War-Bonnet,  Creek,  purposing  to  reach 
the  trail  before  the  Indians  could  do  so.  The  creek  was 
reached  on  the  i/th  of  July,  and  at  daylight  the  following 
morning  Will  rode  forth  to  ascertain  whether  the  Cheyennes 
had  crossed  the  trail.  They  had  not,  but  that  very  day 
the  scout  discerned  the  warriors  coming  up  from  the  south. 

Colonel  Merritt  ordered  his  men  to  mount  their  horses, 
but  to  remain  out  of  sight,  while  he,  with  his  adjutant, 
Charles  King,  accompanied  Will  on  a  tour  of  observation. 
The  Cheyennes  came  directly  toward  the  troops,  and  pres- 
ently fifteen  or  twenty  of  them  dashed  off  to  the  west  along 
the  trail  the  army  had  followed  the  night  before.  Through 
his  glass  Colonel  Merritt  remarked  two  soldiers  on  the 
trail,  doubtless  couriers  with  dispatches,  and  these  the 
Indians  manifestly  designed  to  cut  off.  Will  suggested  that 
it  would  be  well  to  wait  until  the  warriors  were  on  the  point 
of  charging  the  couriers,  when,  if  the  colonel  were  willing, 
he  would  take  a  party  of  picked  men  and  cut  off  the  hos- 
tile delegation  from  the  main  body,  which  was  just  coming 
over  the  divide. 

The  colonel  acquiesced,    and  Will,   galloping  back  to 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          217 

camp,  returned  with  fifteen  men.  The  couriers  were  some 
four  hundred  yards  away,  and  their  Indian  pursuers  two 
hundred  behind  them.  Colonel  Merritt  gave  the  word  to 
charge,  and  Will  and  his  men  skurried  toward  the  redskins. 

In  the  skirmish  that  ensued  three  Indians  were  killed. 
The  rest  started  for  the  main  band  of  warriors,  who  had 
halted  to  watch  the  fight,  but  they  were  so  hotly  pursued 
by  the  soldiers  that  they  turned  at  a  point  half  a  mile  dis- 
tant from  Colonel  Merritt,  and  another  skirmish  took  place. 

Here  something  a  little  out  of  the  usual  occurred — a 
challenge  to  a  duel.  A  warrior,  whose  decorations  and 
war-bonnet  proclaimed  him  a  chief,  rode  out  in  front  of  his 
men,  and  called  out  in  his  own  tongue,  which  Will  could 
understand: 

"I  know  you,  Pa-has-ka!  Come  and  fight  me,  if  you 
want  to  fight!" 

Will  rode  forward  fifty  yards,  and  the  warrior  advanced 
a  like  distance.  The  two  rifles  spoke,  and  the  Indian's 
horse  fell;  but  at  the  same  moment  Will's  horse  stumbled 
into  a  gopher-hole  and  threw  its  rider.  Both  duelists  were 
instantly  on  their  feet,  confronting  each  other  across  a 
space  of  not  more  than  twenty  paces.  They  fired  again 
simultaneously,  and  though  Will  was  unhurt,  the  Indian 
fell  dead. 

The  duel  over,  some  two  hundred  warriors  dashed  up 
to  recover  the  chieftain's  body  and  to  avenge  his  death. 
It  was  now  Colonel  Merritt's  turn  to  move.  He  dispatched 
a  company  of  soldiers  to  Will's  aid,  and  then  ordered  the 
whole  regiment  to  the  charge.  As  the  soldiers  advanced, 
Will  swung  the  Indian's  topknot  and  war-bonnet  which  he 
had  secured,  and  shouted,  "The  first  scalp  for  Custer!" 

The  Indians  made  a  stubborn  resistance,  but  as  they 
found  this  useless,  began  a  retreat  toward  Red  Cloud 


218         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

agency,  whence  they  had  come.  The  retreat  continued 
for  thirty-five  miles,  the  troops  following,  into  the  agency. 
The  fighting  blood  of  the  Fifth  was  at  fever  heat,  and  they 
were  ready  to  encounter  the  thousands  of  warriors  at  the 
agency  should  they  exhibit  a  desire  for  battle.  But  they 
manifested  no  such  desire. 

Will  learned  that  the  name  of  the  chief  he  had  killed 
that  morning  was  " Yellow  Hand."  He  was  the  son  of 
"Cut  Nose,"  a  leading  spirit  among  the  Cheyennes.  This 
old  chieftain  offered  Will  four  mules  if  he  would  return  the 
war-bonnet  and  accouterments  worn  by  the  young  warrior 
and  captured  in  the  fight,  but  Will  did  not  grant  the 
request,  much  as  he  pitied  Cut  Nose  in  his  grief. 

The  Fifth  Cavalry  on  the  following  morning  started  on 
its  march  to  join  General  Crook's  command  in  the  Big 
Horn  Mountains.  The  two  commands  united  forces  on 
the  3d  of  August,  and  marched  to  the  confluence  of  the 
Powder  River  with  the  Yellowstone.  Here  General  Miles 
met  them,  to  report  that  no  Indians  had  crossed  the  stream. 

No  other  fight  occurred ;  but  Will  made  himself  useful 
in  his  capacity  of  scout.  There  were  many  long,  hard 
rides,  carrying  dispatches  that  no  one  else  would  volunteer 
to  bear.  When  he  was  assured  that  the  fighting  was  all 
over,  he  took  passage,  in  September,  on  the  steamer  '""Far 
West,"  and  sailed  down  the  Missouri. 

People  in  the  Eastern  States  were  wonderfully  inter- 
ested in  the  stirring  events  on  the  frontier,  and  Will  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  putting  the  incidents  of  the  Sioux  war 
upon  the  stage.  Upon  his  return  to  Rochester  he  had  a 
play  written  for  his  purpose,  organized  a  company,  and 
opened  his  season.  Previously  he  had  paid  a  flying  visit 
to  Red  Cloud  agency,  and  induced  a  number  of  Sioux 
Indians  to  take  part  in  his  drama. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         219 

The  red  men  had  no  such  painful  experience  as  Wild 
Bill  and  Texas  Jack.  All  they  were  expected  to  do  in  the 
way  of  acting  was  what  came  natural  to  them.  Their  part 
was  to  introduce  a  bit  of  " local  color,"  to  give  a  war-dance, 
take  part  in  a  skirmish,  or  exhibit  themselves  in  some 
typical  Indian  fashion. 

At  the  close  of  this  season  Will  bought  a  large  tract  of 
land  near  North  Platte,  and  started  a  cattle-ranch.  He 
already  owned  one  some  distance  to  the  northward,  in 
partnership  with  Major  North,  the  leader  of  the  Pawnee 
scouts.  Their  friendship  had  strengthened  since  their  first 
meeting,  ten  years  before. 

In  this  new  ranch  Will  takes  great  pride.  He  has  added 
to  its  area  until  it  now  covers  seven  thousand  acres,  and  he 
has  developed  its  resources  to  the  utmost.  Twenty-five 
hundred  acres  are  devoted  to  alfalfa  and  twenty-five  hun- 
dred sown  to  corn.  One  of  the  features  of  interest  to  vis- 
itors is  a  wooded  park,  containing  a  number  of  deer  and 
young  buffaloes.  Near  the  park  is  a  beautiful  lake.  In 
the  center  of  the  broad  tract  of  land  stands  the  picturesque 
building  known  as  " Scout's  Rest  Ranch,"  which,  seen 
from  the  foothills,  has  the  appearance  of  an  old  castle. 

The  ranch  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  that  one 
can  imagine,  and  is,  besides,  an  object-lesson  in  the  value 
of  scientific  investigation  and  experiment  joined  with  per- 
sistence and  perseverance.  When  Will  bought  the  prop- 
erty he  was  an  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  possibilities  of 
Nebraska  development.  His  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Good- 
man, was  put  in  charge  of  the  place. 

The  whole  Platte  Valley  formed  part  of  the  district 
once  miscalled  the  Great  American  Desert.  It  was  an  idea 
commonly  accepted,  but,  as  the  sequel  proved,  erroneous, 
that  lack  of  moisture  was  the  cause  of  lack  of  vegetation. 


220         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

An  irrigating  ditch  was  constructed  on  the  ranch,  trees  were 
planted,  and  it  was  hoped  that  with  such  an  abundance  of 
moisture  they  would  spring  up  like  weeds.  Vain  hope ! 
There  was  "water,  water  everywhere,"  but  not  a  tree 
would  grow. 

Will  visited  his  old  Kansas  home,  and  the  sight  of  tall 
and  stately  trees  filled  him  with  a  desire  to  transport  some 
of  this  beauty  to  his  Nebraska  ranch. 

"I'd  give  five  hundred  dollars,"  said  he,  "for  every 
tree  I  had  like  that  in  Nebraska!" 

Impressed  by  the  proprietor's  enthusiasm  for  arboreal 
development,  Mr.  Goodman  began  investigation  and 
experiment.  It  took  him  but  a  short  time  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  the  deficiencies  of  the  soil,  and  this  done, 
the  bigger  half  of  the  problem  was  solved. 

Indian  legend  tells  us  that  this  part  of  our  country  was 
once  an  inland  sea.  There  is  authority  for  the  statement 
that  to-day  it  is  a  vast  subterranean  reservoir,  and  the  con- 
ditions warrant  the  assertion.  The  soil  in  all  the  region 
has  a  depth  only  of  from  one  to  three  feet,  while  underly- 
ing the  shallow  arable  deposit  is  one  immense  bedrock, 
varying  in  thickness,  the  average  being  from  three  to  six 
feet.  Everywhere  water  may  be  tapped  by  digging 
through  the  thin  soil  and  boring  through  the  rock  forma- 
tion. The  country  gained  its  reputation  as  a  desert,  not 
from  lack  of  moisture,  but  from  lack  of  soil.  In  the  pock- 
ets of  the  foothills,  where  a  greater  depth  of  soil  had 
accumulated  from  the  washings  of  the  slopes  above,  beau- 
tiful little  groves  of  trees  might  be  found,  and  the  islands 
of  the  Platte  River  were  heavily  wooded.  Everywhere 
else  was  a  treeless  waste. 

The  philosophy  of  the  transformation  from  sea  to  plain 
is  not  fully  understood.  The  most  tenable  theory  yet 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         221 

advanced  is  that  the  bedrock  is  an  alkaline  deposit,  left  by 
the  waters  in  a  gradually  widening  and  deepening  margin. 
On  this  the  prairie  wind  sifted  its  accumulation  of  dust, 
and  the  rain  washed  down  its  quota  from  the  bank  above. 
In  the  slow  process  of  countless  years  the  rock  formation 
extended  over  the  whole  sea ;  the  alluvial  deposit  deepened  ; 
seeds  lodged  in  it,  and  the  buffalo-grass  and  sage-brush 
began  to  grow,  their  yearly  decay  adding  to  the  ever-thick- 
ening layer  of  soil. 

Having  learned  the  secret  of  the  earth,  Mr.  Goodman 
devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  the  trees.  He  investigated 
those  varieties  having  lateral  roots,  to  determine  which 
would  flourish  best  in  a  shallow  soil.  He  experimented,  he 
failed,  and  he  tried  again.  All  things  come  round  to  him 
who  will  but  work.  Many  experiments  succeeded  the 
first,  and  many  failures  followed  in  their  train.  But  at  last, 
like  Archimedes,  he  could  cry  "Eureka!  I  have  found 
it!"  In  a  very  short  time  he  had  the  ranch  charmingly 
laid  out  with  rows  of  cottonwoods,  box-elder,  and  other 
members  of  the  tree  family.  The  ranch  looked  like  an  oasis 
in  the  desert,  and  neighbors  inquired  into  the  secret  of  the 
magic  that  had  worked  so  marvelous  a  transformation. 
The  streets  of  North  Platte  are  now  beautiful  with  trees, 
and  adjoining  farms  grow  many  more.  It  is  "Scout's  Rest 
Ranch,"  however,  that  is  pointed  out  with  pride  to  trav- 
elers on  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad. 

Mindful  of  his  resolve  to  one  day  have  a  residence  in 
North  Platte,  Will  purchased  the  site  on  which  his  first 
residence  was  erected.  His  family  had  sojourned  in 
Rochester  for  several  years,  and  when  they  returned  to  the 
West  the  new  home  was  built  according  to  the  wishes  and 
under  the  supervision  of  the  wife  and  mother.  To  the 
dwelling  was  given  the  name  "Welcome  Wigwam." 


CHAPTER   XXIV, 

LITERARY   WORK. 

IT  was  during  this  period  of  his  life  that  my  brother's  first 
literary  venture  was  made.  As  the  reader  has  seen,  his 
school-days  were  few  in  number,  and  as  he  told  Mr.  Majors, 
in  signing  his  first  contract  with  him,  he  could  use  a  rifle 
better  than  a  pen.  A  life  of  constant  action  on  the  fron- 
tier does  not  leave  a  man  much  time  for  acquiring  an 
education ;  so  it  is  no  great  wonder  that  the  first  sketch 
Will  wrote  for  publication  was  destitute  of  punctuation  and 
short  of  capitals  in  many  places.  His  attention  was 
directed  to  these  shortcomings,  but  Western  life  had  culti- 
vated a  disdain  for  petty  things. 

"Life  is  too  short,"  said  he,  "to  make  big  letters  when 
small  ones  will  do;  and  as  for  punctuation,  if  my  readers 
don't  know  enough  to  take  their  breath  without  those  little 
marks,  they'll  have  to  lose  it,  that's  all." 

But  in  spite  of  his  jesting,  it  was  characteristic  of  him 
that  when  he  undertook  anything  he  wished  to  do  it  well. 
He  now  had  leisure  for  study,  and  he  used  it  to  such  good 
advantage  that  he  was  soon  able  to  send  to  the  publishers 
a  clean  manuscript,  grammatical,  and  well  spelled,  capital- 
ized, and  punctuated.  The  publishers  appreciated  the 
improvement,  though  they  had  sought  after  his  work  in  its 
crude  state,  and  paid  good  prices  for  it. 

Our  author  would  never  consent  to  write  anything 
except  actual  scenes  from  border  life.  As  a  sop  to  the 

222 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         223 

Cerberus  of  sensationalism,  he  did  occasionally  condescend 
to  heighten  his  effects  by  exaggeration.  In  sending  one 
story  to  the  publisher  he  wrote : 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to  lie  so  outrageously  in  this  yarn. 
My  hero  has  killed  more  Indians  on  one  war-trail  than  I 
have  killed  in  all  my  life.  But  I  understand  this  is  what  is 
expected  in  border  tales.  If  you  think  the  revolver  and 
bowie-knife  are  used  too  freely,  you  may  cut  out  a  fatal 
shot  or  stab  wherever  you  deem  it  wise." 

Even  this  story,  which  one  accustomed  to  border  life 
confessed  to  be  exaggerated,  fell  far  short  of  the  sensa- 
tional and  blood-curdling  tales  usually  written,  and  was 
published  exactly  as  the  author  wrote  it. 

During  the  summer  of  1877  I  paid  a  visit  to  our  relatives 
in  Westchester,  Pennsylvania.  My  husband  had  lost  all 
his  wealth  before  his  death,  and  I  was  obliged  to  rely  upon 
my  brother  for  support.  To  meet  a  widespread  demand, 
Will  this  summer  wrote  his  autobiography.  It  was  pub- 
lished at  Hartford,  Connecticut,  and  I,  anxious  to  do 
something  for  myself,  took  the  general  agency  of  the  book 
for  the  state  of  Ohio,  spending  a  part  of  the  summer  there 
in  pushing  its  sale.  But  I  soon  tired  of  a  business  life,  and 
turning  over  the  agency  to  other  hands,  went  from  Cleve- 
land to  visit  Will  at  his  new  home  in  North  Platte,  where 
there  were  a  number  of  other  guests  at  the  time. 

Besides  his  cattle-ranch  in  the  vicinity  of  North  Platte, 
Will  had  another  ranch  on  the  Dismal  River,  sixty-five 
miles  north,  touching  the  Dakota  line.  One  day  he 
remarked  to  us: 

"I'm  sorry  to  leave  you  to  your  own  resources  for  a 
few  days,  but  I  must  take  a  run  up  to  my  ranch  on  Dismal 
River." 

Not  since  our  early  Kansas  trip  had  I  had  an  experience 


224         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

in  camping  out,  and  in  those  days  I  was  almost  too  young 
to  appreciate  it ;  but  it  had  left  me  with  a  keen  desire  to 
try  it  again. 

"Let  us  all  go  with  you,  Will,"  I  exclaimed.  "We 
can  camp  out  on  the  road." 

Our  friends  added  their  approval,  and  Will  fell  in  with 
the  suggestion  at  once. 

"There's  no  reason  why  you  can't  go  if  you  wish  to," 
said  he.  Will  owned  numerous  conveyances,  and  was  able 
to  provide  ways  and  means  to  carry  us  all  comfortably. 
Lou  and  the  two  little  girls,  Arta  and  Orra,  rode  in  an 
open  phaeton.  There  were  covered  carriages,  surreys,  and 
a  variety  of  turn-outs  to  transport  the  invited  guests.  Sev- 
eral prominent  citizens  of  North  Platte  were  invited  to  join 
the  party,  and  when  our  arrangements  were  completed  we 
numbered  twenty-five. 

Will  took  a  caterer  along,  and  made  ample  provisions 
for  the  inner  man  and  woman.  He  knew,  from  long 
experience,  that  a  camping  trip  without  an  abundance  of 
food  is  rather  a  dreary  affair. 

All  of  us  except  Will  were  out  for  pleasure  solely,  and 
we  found  time  to  enjoy  ourselves  even  during  the  first  day's 
ride  of  twenty-five  miles.  As  we  looked  around  at  the  new 
and  wild  scenes  while  the  tents  were  pitched  for  the  night, 
Will  led  the  ladies  of  the  party  to  a  tree,  saying: 

"You  are  the  first  white  women  whose  feet  have  trod 
this  region.  Carve  your  names  here,  and  celebrate  the 
event." 

After  a  good  night's  rest  and  a  bounteous  breakfast,  we 
set  out  in  high  spirits,  and  were  soon  far  out  in  the  foot- 
hills. 

One  who  has  never  seen  these  peculiar  formations  can 
have  but  little  idea  of  them.  On  every  side,  as  far  as  the 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         225 

eye  can  see,  undulations  of  earth  stretch  away  like  the 
waves  of  the  ocean,  and  on  them  no  vegetation  flourishes 
save  buffalo-grass,  sage-brush,  and  the  cactus,  blooming 
but  thorny. 

The  second  day  I  rode  horseback,  in  company  with 
Will  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  party,  over  a  constant 
succession  of  hill  and  vale;  we  mounted  an  elevation  and 
descended  its  farther  side,  only  to  be  confronted  by  another 
hill.  The  horseback  party  was  somewhat  in  advance  of 
those  in  carriages. 

From  the  top  of  one  hill  Will  scanned  the  country  with 
his  field-glass,  and  remarked  that  some  deer  were  headed 
our  way,  and  that  we  should  have  fresh  venison  for  dinner. 
He  directed  us  to  ride  down  into  the  valley  and  tarry 
there,  so  that  we  might  not  startle  the  timid  animals,  while 
he  continued  part  way  up  the  hill  and  halted  in  position  to 
get  a  good  shot  at  the  first  one  that  came  over  the  knoll. 
A  fawn  presently  bounded  into  view,  and  Will  brought  his 
rifle  to  his  shoulder;  but  much  to  our  surprise,  instead  of 
firing,  dropped  the  weapon  to  his  side.  Another  fawn 
passed  him  before  he  fired,  and  as  the  little  creature 
fell  we  rode  up  to  Will  and  began  chaffing  him  unmercifully, 
one  gentleman  remarking: 

"It  is  difficult  to  believe  we  are  in  the  presence  of  the 
crack  shot  of  America,  when  we  see  him  allow  two  deer  to 
pass  by  before  he  brings  one  down." 

But  to  the  laughing  and  chaffing  Will  answered  not  a 
word,  and  recalling  the  childish  story  I  had  heard  of  his 
buck  fever,  I  wondered  if,  at  this  late  date,  it  were  pos- 
sible for  him  to  have  another  attack  of  that  kind.  The 
deer  was  handed  over  to  the  commissary  department,  and 
we  rode  on. 

"Will,    what   was  the  matter  with   you   just   now?"   I 


226         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

asked  him,  privately.  "Why  didn't  you  shoot  that  first 
deer;  did  you  have  another  attack  like  you  had  when  you 
were  a  little  boy?" 

He  rode  along  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
turned  to  me  with  the  query : 

"Did  you  ever  look  into  a  deer's  eyes?"  And  as  I 
replied  that  I  had  not,  he  continued : 

' ' Every  one  has  his  little  weakness ;  mine  is  a  deer's  eye. 
I  don't  want  you  to  say  anything  about  it  to  your  friends, 
for  they  would  laugh  more  than  ever,  but  the  fact  is  I  have 
never  yet  been  able  to  shoot  a  deer  if  it  looked  me  in  the 
eye.  With  a  buffalo,  or  a  bear,  or  an  Indian,  it  is  differ- 
ent. But  a  deer  has  the  eye  of  a  trusting  child,  soft, 
gentle,  and  confiding.  No  one  but  a  brute  could  shoot  a 
deer  if  he  caught  that  look.  The  first  that  came  over  the 
knoll  looked  straight  at  me;  I  let  it  go  by,  and  did  not 
look  at  the  second  until  I  was  sure  it  had  passed  me." 

He  seemed  somewhat  ashamed  of  his  soft-heartedness; 
yet  to  me  it  was  but  one  of  many  little  incidents  that 
revealed  a  side  of  his  nature  the  rough  life  of  the  frontier 
had  not  corrupted. 

Will  expected  to  reach  the  Dismal  River  on  the  third 
day,  and  at  noon  of  it  he  remarked  that  he  had  better  ride 
ahead  and  give  notice  of  our  coming,  for  the  man  who 
looked  after  the  ranch  had  his  wife  with  him,  and  she  would 
likely  be  dismayed  at  the  thought  of  preparing  supper  for 
so  large  a  crowd  on  a  minute's  notice. 

Sister  Julia's  son,  Will  Goodman,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  was 
of  our  party,  and  he  offered  to  be  the  courier. 

"Are  you  sure  you  know  the  way?"  asked  his  uncle. 

"Oh,  yes,"  was  the  confident  response;  "you  know 
I  have  been  over  the  road  with  you  before,  and  I  know 
just  how  to  go." 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  227 

" Well,  tell  me  how  you  would  go." 

Young  Will  described  the  trail  so  accurately  that  his 
uncle  concluded  it  would  be  safe  for  him  to  undertake  the 
trip,  and  the  lad  rode  ahead,  happy  and  important. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  reached  the  ranch, 
and  the  greeting  of  the  overseer  was : 

"Well,  well;  what's  all  this?" 

"Didn't  you  know  we  were  coming?"  asked  Will, 
quickly.  "Hasn't  Will  Goodman  been  here?"  The 
ranchman  shook  his  head. 

"Haven't  seen  him,  sir,"  he  replied,  "since  he  was 
here  with  you  before." 

"Well,  he'll  be  along,"  said  Will,  quietly;  but  I 
detected  a  ring  of  anxiety  in  his  voice.  "Go  into  the 
house  and  make  yourselves  comfortable,"  he  added.  "It 
will  be  some  time  before  a  meal  can  be  prepared  for  such  a 
supper  party. "  We  entered  the  house,  but  he  remained 
outside,  and  mounting  the  stile  that  served  as  a  gate, 
examined  the  nearer  hills  with  his  glass.  There  was  no 
sign  of  Will,  Jr. ;  so  the  ranchman  was  directed  to  dispatch 
five  or  six  men  in  as  many  directions  to  search  for  the  boy, 
and  as  they  hastened  away  on  their  mission  Will  remained 
on  the  stile,  running  his  fingers  every  few  minutes  through 
the  hair  over  his  forehead — a  characteristic  action  with  him 
when  worried.  Thinking  I  might  reassure  him,  I  came  out 
and  chided  him  gently  for  what  I  was  pleased  to  regard  as 
his  needless  anxiety.  It  was  impossible  for  Willie  to  lose 
his  way  very  long,  I  explained,  without  knowing  anything 
about  my  subject.  "See  how  far  you  can  look  over  these 
hills.  It  is  not  as  if  he  were  in  the  woods,"  said  I. 

Will  looked  at  me  steadily  and  pityingly  for  a  moment. 
"Go  back  in  the  house,  Nell,"  said  he,  with  a  touch  of 
impatience ;  * ' you  don' t  know  what  you  are  talking  about. ' ' 


228         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

That  was  true  enough,  but  when  I  returned  obediently 
to  the  house  I  repeated  my  opinion  that  worry  over  the 
absent  boy  was  needless,  for  it  would  be  difficult,  I  declared, 
for  one  to  lose  himself  where  the  range  of  vision  was  so 
extensive  as  it  was  from  the  top  of  one  of  these  foothills. 

"But  suppose,"  said  one  of  the  party,  "that  you  were 
in  the  valley  behind  one  of  the  foothills — what  then?" 

This  led  to  an  animated  discussion  as  to  the  danger  of 
getting  lost  in  this  long-range  locality,  and  in  the  midst  of 
it  Will  walked  in,  his  equanimity  quite  restored. 

"  It's  all  right, ' '  said  he ;  "I  can  see  the  youngster  com- 
ing along." 

We  flocked  to  the  stile,  and  discovered  a  moving  speck 
in  the  distance.  Looked  at  through  the  field-glasses,  it 
proved  to  be  the  belated  courier.  Then  we  appealed  to 
Will  to  settle  the  question  that  had  been  under  discussion. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  answered,  impressively, 
"if  one  of  you  were  lost  among  these  foothills,  and  a  whole 
regiment  started  out  in  search  of  you,  the  chances  are  ten 
to  one  that  you  would  starve  to  death,  to  say  the  least, 
before  you  could  be  found." 

To  find  the  way  with  ease  and  locate  the  trail  unerr- 
ingly over  an  endless  and  monotonous  succession  of  hills 
identical  in  appearance  is  an  ability  the  Indian  possesses, 
but  few  are  the  white  men  that  can  imitate  the  aborigine. 
I  learned  afterward  that  it  was  accounted  one  of  Will's 
great  accomplishments  as  a  scout  that  he  was  perfectly  at 
home  among  the  frozen  waves  of  the  prairie  ocean. 

When  the  laggard  arrived,  and  was  pressed  for  particu- 
lars, he  declared  he  had  traveled  eight  or  ten  miles  when 
he  found  that  he  was  off  the  trail.  "I  thought  I  was 
lost,"  said  he;  "but  after.considering  the  matter  I  decided 
that  I  had  one  chance — that  was  to  go  back  over  my  own 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          229 

tracks.  The  marks  of  my  horse's  hoofs  led  me  out  on  the 
main  trail,  and  your  tracks  were  so  fresh  that  I  had  no 
further  trouble." 

"Pretty  good,"  said  Will,  patting  the  boy's  shoulder. 
"Pretty  good.  You  have  some  of  the  Cody  blood  in  you, 
that's  plain." 

The  next  day  was  passed  in  looking  over  the  ranch, 
and  the  day  following  we  visited,  at  Will's  solicitation,  a 
spot  that  he  had  named  "The  Garden  of  the  Gods."  Our 
thoughtful  host  had  sent  ranchmen  ahead  to  prepare  the 
place  for  our  reception,  and  we  were  as  surprised  and 
delighted  as  he  could  desire.  A  patch  on  the  river's  brink 
was  filled  with  tall  and  stately  trees  and  luxuriant  shrubs, 
laden  with  fruits  and  flowers,  while  birds  of  every  hue 
nested  and  sang  about  us.  It  was  a  miniature  paradise  in 
the  midst  of  a  desert  of  sage-brush  and  buffalo-grass.  The 
interspaces  of  the  grove  were  covered  with  rich  green  grass, 
and  in  one  of  these  nature-carpeted  nooks  the  workmen, 
under  Will's  direction,  had  put  up  an  arbor,  with  rustic 
seats  and  table.  Herein  we  ate  our  luncheon,  and  every 
sense  was  pleasured. 

As  it  was  not  likely  that  the  women  of  the  party  would 
ever  see  the  place  again,  so  remote  was  it  from  civilization, 
belonging  to  the  as  yet  uninhabited  part  of  the  Western 
plains,  we  decided  to  explore  it,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
something  that  would  serve  as  a  souvenir.  We  had  not 
gone  far  when  we  found  ourselves  out  of  Eden  and  in  the 
desert  that  surrounded  it,  but  it  was  the  desert  that  held 
our  great  discovery.  On  an  isolated  elevation  stood  a 
lone,  tall  tree,  in  the  topmost  branches  of  which  reposed 
what  seemed  to  be  a  large  package.  As  soon  as  our  imagi- 
nations got  fairly  to  work  the  package  became  the  hidden 
treasure  of  some  prairie  bandit,  and  while  two  of  the  party 


230         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

returned  for  our  masculine  forces  the  rest  of  us  kept  guard 
over  the  cachet  in  the  treetop.  Will  came  up  with  the 
others,  and  when  we  pointed  out  to  him  the  supposed 
chest  of  gold  he  smiled,  saying  that  he  was  sorry  to  dissi- 
pate the  hopes  which  the  ladies  had  built  in  the  tree,  but 
that  they  were  not  gazing  upon  anything  of  intrinsic  value, 
but  on  the  open  sepulcher  of  some  departed  brave.  "It 
is  a  wonder,"  he  remarked,  laughingly,  "you  women 
didn't  catch  on  to  the  skeleton  in  that  closet." 

As  we  retraced  our  steps,  somewhat  crestfallen,  we 
listened  to  the  tale  of  another  of  the  red  man's  super- 
stitions. 

When  some  great  chief,  who  particularly  distinguishes 
himself  on  the  war-path,  loses  his  life  on  the  battle-field 
without  losing  his  scalp,  he  is  regarded  as  especially  favored 
by  the  Great  Spirit.  A  more  exalted  sepulcher  than 
mother  earth  is  deemed  fitting  for  such  a  warrior.  Accord- 
ingly he  is  wrapped  in  his  blanket-shroud,  and,  in  his  war 
paint  and  feathers  and  with  his  weapons  by  his  side,  he  is 
placed  in  the  top  of  the  highest  tree  in  the  neighborhood, 
the  spot  thenceforth  being  sacred  against  intrusion  for  a 
certain  number  of  moons.  At  the  end  of  that  period  mes- 
sengers are  dispatched  to  ascertain  if  the  remains  have  been 
disturbed.  If  they  have  not,  the  departed  is  esteemed  a 
spirit  chief,  who,  in  the  happy  hunting-grounds,  intercedes 
for  and  leads  on  to  sure  victory  the  warriors  who  trusted  to 
his  leadership  in  the  material  world. 

We  bade  a  reluctant  adieu  to  the  idyllic  retreat,  and 
threw  it  many  a  backward  glance  as  we  took  our  way  over 
the  desert  that  stretched  between  us  and  the  ranch.  Here 
another  night  was  passed,  and  then  we  set  out  for  home. 
The  brief  sojourn  "near  to  Nature's  heart"  had  been  a 
delightful  experience,  holding  for  many  of  us  the  charm 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         231 

of  novelty,  and  for  all  recreation  and  pleasant  com- 
radeship. 

With  the  opening  of  the  theatrical  season  Will  returned 
to  the  stage,  and  his  histrionic  career  continued  for  five 
years  longer.  As  an  actor  he  achieved  a  certain  kind  of 
success.  He  played  in  every  large  city  of  the  United 
States,  always  to  crowded  houses,  and  was  everywhere 
received  with  enthusiasm.  There  was  no  doubt  of  his 
financial  success,  whatever  criticisms  might  be  passed  on 
the  artistic  side  of  his  performance.  It  was  his  personality 
and  reputation  that  interested  his  audiences.  They  did 
not  expect  the  art  of  Sir  Henry  Irving,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  they  did  not  receive  it. 

Will  never  enjoyed  this  part  of  his  career;  he  endured 
it  simply  because  it  was  the  means  to  an  end.  He  had 
not  forgotten  his  boyish  dream — his  resolve  that  he  would 
one  day  present  to  the  world  an  exhibition  that  would  give 
a  realistic  picture  of  life  in  the  Far  West,  depicting  its 
dangers  and  privations,  as  well  as  its  picturesque  phases. 
His  first  theatrical  season  had  shown  him  how  favorably 
such  an  exhibition  would  be  received,  and  his  long-cher- 
ished ambition  began  to  take  shape.  He  knew  that  an 
enormous  amount  of  money  would  be  needed,  and  to 
acquire  such  a  sum  he  lived  for  many  years  behind  the  foot- 
lights. 

I  was  present  in  a  Leavenworth  theater  during  one  of 
his  last  performances — one  in  which  he  played  the  part  of  a 
loving  swain  to  a  would-be  charming  lassie.  When  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  last  act  I  went  behind  the  scenes,  in 
company  with  a  party  of  friends,  and  congratulated  the 
star  upon  his  excellent  acting. 

"Oh,  Nellie,"  he  groaned,  ''don't  say  anything  about 


232         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

it.      If  heaven  will  forgive  me  this  foolishness,  I  promise 
to  quit  it  forever  when  this  season  is  over." 

That  was  the  way  he  felt  about  the  stage,  so  far  as  his 
part  in  it  was  concerned.  He  was  a  fish  out  of  water. 
The  feeble  pretensions  to  a  stern  reality,  and  the  mock 
dangers  exploited,  could  not  but  fail  to  seem  trivial  to  one 
who  had  lived  the  very  scenes  depicted. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

FIRST   VISIT   TO    THE  VALLEY   OF   THE   BIG    HORN. 

MY  brother  was  again  bereaved  in  1880  by  the  death  of  his 
little  daughter  Orra.  At  her  own  request,  Orra's  body  was 
interred  in  Rochester,  in  beautiful  Mount  Hope  Cemetery, 
by  the  side  of  little  Kit  Carson. 

But  joy  follows  upon  sadness,  and  the  summer  before 
Will  spent  his  last  season  on  the  stage  was  a  memorable 
one  for  him.  It  marked  the  birth  of  another  daughter, 
who  was  christened  Irma.  This  daughter  is  the  very  apple 
of  her  father's  eye;  to  her  he  gives  the  affection  that  is  her 
due,  and  round  her  clings  the  halo  of  the  tender  memories 
of  the  other  two  that  have  departed  this  life. 

This  year,  1882,  was  also  the  one  in  which  Will  paid  his 
first  visit  to  the  valley  of  the  Big  Horn.  He  had  often 
traversed  the  outskirts  of  that  region,  and  heard  incredible 
tales  from  Indians  and  trappers  of  its  wonders  and  beau- 
ties, but  he  had  yet  to  explore  it  himself.  In  his  early 
experience  as  Pony  Express  rider,  California  Joe  had  related 
to  him  the  first  story  he  had  heard  of  the  enchanted  basin, 
and  in  1875,  when  he  was  in  charge  of  a  large  body  of 
Arapahoe  Indians  that  had  been  permitted  to  leave  their 
reservation  for  a  big  hunt,  he  obtained  more  details. 

The  agent  warned  Will  that  some  of  the  Indians  were 
dissatisfied,  and  might  attempt  to  escape,  but  to  all  ap- 
pearances, though  he  watched  them  sharply,  they  were 
entirely  content.  Game  was  plentiful,  the  weather  fine, 

233 


234         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

and  nothing  seemed  omitted  from  the  red  man's  hap- 
piness. 

One  night  about  twelve  o'clock  Will  was  aroused  by  an 
Indian  guide,  who  informed  him  that  a  party  of  some  two 
hundred  Arapahoes  had  started  away  some  two  hours 
before,  and  were  on  a  journey  northward.  The  red  man 
does  not  wear  his  heart  upon  his  sleeve  for  government 
daws  to  peck  at.  One  knows  what  he  proposes  to  do  after 
he  has  done  it.  The  red  man  is  conspicuously  among  the 
things  that  are  not  always  what  they  seem. 

Pursuit  was  immediately  set  on  foot,  and  the  entire 
body  of  truant  warriors  were  brought  back  without  blood- 
shed. One  of  them,  a  young  warrior,  came  to  Will's 
tent  to  beg  for  tobacco.  The  Indian — as  all  know  who 
have  made  his  acquaintance — has  no  difficulty  in  reconciling 
begging  with  his  native  dignity.  To  work  may  be  beneath 
him,  to  beg  is  a  different  matter,  and  there  is  frequently  a 
delightful  hauteur  about  his  mendicancy.  In  this  respect 
he  is  not  unlike  some  of  his  white  brothers.  Will  gave 
the  young  chief  the  desired  tobacco,  and  then  questioned 
him  closely  concerning  the  attempted  escape. 

"Surely,"  said  he,  "you  cannot  find  a  more  beautiful 
spot  than  this.  The  streams  are  full  of  fish,  the  grazing  is 
good,  the  game  is  plentiful,  and  the  weather  is  fine.  What 
more  could  you  desire?" 

The  Indian  drew  himself  up.  His  face  grew  eager,  and 
his  eyes  were  full  of  longing  as  he  answered,  by  the  inter- 
preter: 

"The  land  to  the  north  and  west  is  the  land  of  plenty. 
There  the  buffalo  grows  larger,  and  his  coat  is  darker.  There 
the  bu-yu  (antelope)  comes  in  droves,  while  here  there  are 
but  few.  There  the  whole  region  is  covered  with  the  short, 
curly  grass  our  ponies  like.  There  grow  the  wild  plums 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         235 

that  are  good  for  my  people  in  summer  and  winter.  There 
are  the  springs  of  the  Great  Medicine  Man,  Tel-ya-ki-y. 
To  bathe  in  them  gives  new  life ;  to  drink  them  cures  every 
bodily  ill. 

"In  the  mountains  beyond  the  river  of  the  blue  water 
there  is  gold  and  silver,  the  metals  that  the  white  man 
loves.  There  lives  the  eagle,  whose  feathers  the  Indian 
must  have  to  make  his  war-bonnet.  There,  too,  the  sun 
shines  always. 

"It  is  the  Ijis  (heaven)  of  the  red  man.  My  heart  cries 
for  it.  The  hearts  of  my  people  are  not  happy  when  away 
from  the  Eithity  Tugala." 

The  Indian  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast,  and  his 
eyes  looked  yearningly  toward  the  country  whose  delights 
he  had  so  vividly  pictured ;  then  he  turned  and  walked  sor- 
rowfully away.  The  white  man's  government  shut  him 
out  from  the  possession  of  his  earthly  paradise.  Will 
learned  upon  further  inquiry  that  Eithity  Tugala  was  the 
Indian  name  of  the  Big  Horn  Basin. 

In  the  summer  of  1882  Will's  party  of  exploration  left 
the  cars  at  Cheyenne,  and  struck  out  from  this  point  with 
horses  and  pack-mules.  Will's  eyes  becoming  inflamed, 
he  was  obliged  to  bandage  them,  and  turn  the  guidance  of 
the  party  over  to  a  man  known  as  "Reddy."  For  days 
he  traveled  in  a  blinded  state,  and  though  his  eyes  slowly 
bettered,  he  did  not  remove  the  bandage  until  the  Big 
Horn  Basin  was  reached.  They  had  paused  for  the  mid- 
day siesta,  and  Reddy  inquired  whether  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  uncover  the  ,afflicted  eyes,  adding  that  he  thought 
Will  "would  enjoy  looking  around  a  bit." 

Off  came  the  bandage,  and  I  shall  quote  Will's  own 
words  to  describe  the  scene  that  met  his  delighted  gaze: 

"To  my  right  stretched  a  towering  range  of  snow-capped 


236          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

mountains,  broken  here  and  there  into  minarets,  obelisks, 
and  spires.  Between  me  and  this  range  of  lofty  peaks  a 
long  irregular  line  of  stately  cottonwoods  told  me  a  stream 
wound  its  way  beneath.  The  rainbow-tinted  carpet  under 
me  was  formed  of  innumerable  brilliant-hued  wild  flowers; 
it  spread  about  me  in  every  direction,  and  sloped  gracefully 
to  the  stream.  Game  of  every  kind  played  on  the  turf, 
and  bright-hued  birds  flitted  over  it.  It  was  a  scene  no 
mortal  can  satisfactorily  describe.  At  such  a  moment  a 
man,  no  matter  what  his  creed,  sees  the  hand  of  the  mighty 
Maker  of  the  universe  majestically  displayed  in  the  beauty 
of  nature;  he  becomes  sensibly  conscious,  too,  of  his  own 
littleness.  I  uttered  no  word  for  very  awe;  I  looked  upon 
one  of  nature's  masterpieces. 

"Instantly  my  heart  went  out  to  my  sorrowful  Arapahoe 
friend  of  1875.  He  had  not  exaggerated;  he  had  scarcely 
done  the  scene  justice.  He  spoke  of  it  as  the  Ijis,  the 
heaven  of  the  red  man.  I  regarded  it  then,  and  still  regard 
it,  as  the  Mecca  of  all  appreciative  humanity." 

To  the  west  of  the  Big  Horn  Basin,  Hart  Mountain 
rises  abruptly  from  the  Shoshone  River.  It  is  covered 
with  grassy  slopes  and  deep  ravines ;  perpendicular  rocks  of 
every  hue  rise  in  various  places  and  are  fringed  with  ever- 
greens. Beyond  this  mountain,  in  the  distance,  towers 
the  hoary  head  of  Table  Mountain.  Five  miles  to  the 
southwest  the  mountains  recede  some  distance  from  the 
river,  and  from  its  bank  Castle  Rock  rises  in  solitary  gran- 
deur. As  its  name  indicates,  it  has  the  appearance  of  a 
castle,  with  towers,  turrets,  bastions,  and  balconies. 

Grand  as  is  the  western  view,  the  chief  beauty  lies  in 
the  south.  Here  the  Carter  Mountain  lies  along  the  entire 
distance,  and  the  grassy  spaces  on  its  side  furnish  pastur- 
age for  the  deer,  antelope,  and  mountain  sheep  that  abound 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          237 

in  this  favored  region.  Fine  timber,  too,  grows  on  its 
rugged  slopes;  jagged,  picturesque  rock-forms  are  seen  in 
all  directions,  and  numerous  cold  springs  send  up  their  wel- 
come nectar. 

It  is  among  the  foothills  nestling  at  the  base  of  this 
mountain  that  Will  has  chosen  the  site  of  his  future  per- 
manent residence.  Here  there  are  many  little  lakes,  two 
of  which  are  named  Irma  and  Arta,  in  honor  of  his 
daughters.  Here  he  owns  a  ranch  of  forty  thousand  acres, 
but  the  home  proper  will  comprise  a  tract  of  four  hundred 
and  eighty  acres.  The  two  lakes  referred  to  are  in  this 
tract,  and  near  them  Will  proposes  to  erect  a  palatial  resi- 
dence. To  him,  as  he  has  said,  it  is  the  Mecca  of  earth, 
and  thither  he  hastens  the  moment  he  is  free  from  duty  and 
obligation.  In  that  enchanted  region  he  forgets  for  a  little 
season  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  life. 

A  curious  legend  is  told  of  one  of  the  lakes  that  lie  on 
the  border  of  this  valley.  It  is  small — half  a  mile  long  and 
a  quarter  wide — but  its  depth  is  fathomless.  It  is  bordered 
and  shadowed  by  tall  and  stately  pines,  quaking-asp  and 
birch  trees,  and  its  waters  are  pure  and  ice-cold  the  year 
round.  They  are  medicinal,  too,  and  as  yet  almost 
unknown  to  white  men.  Will  heard  the  legend  of  the  lake 
from  the  lips  of  an  old  Cheyenne  warrior. 

"It  was  the  custom  of  my  tribe,"  said  the  Indian,  "to 
assemble  around  this  lake  once  every  month,  at  the  hour 
of  midnight,  when  the  moon  is  at  its  full.  Soon  after  mid- 
night a  canoe  filled  with  the  specters  of  departed  Cheyenne 
warriors  shot  out  from  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake  and 
crossed  rapidly  to  the  western  border;  there  it  suddenly 
disappeared. 

"Never  a  word  or  sound  escaped  from  the  specters  in 
the  canoe.  They  sat  rigid  and  silent,  and  swiftly  plied 


238         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

their  oars.  All  attempts  to  get  a  word  from  them  were  in 
vain. 

"So  plainly  were  the  canoe  and  its  occupants  seen  that 
the  features  of  the  warriors  were  readily  distinguished,  and 
relatives  and  friends  were  recognized." 

For  years,  according  to  the  legend,  the  regular  monthly 
trip  was  made,  and  always  from  the  eastern  to  the  western 
border  of  the  lake.  In  1876  it  suddenly  ceased,  and  the 
Indians  were  much  alarmed.  A  party  of  them  camped  on 
the  bank  of  the  lake,  and  watchers  were  appointed  for 
every  night.  It  was  fancied  that  the  ghostly  boatmen  had 
changed  the  date  of  their  excursion.  But  in  three  months 
there  was  no  sign  of  canoe  or  canoeists,  and  this  was 
regarded  as  an  omen  of  evil. 

At  a  council  of  the  medicine  men,  chiefs,  and  wiseacres 
of  the  tribe  it  was  decided  that  the  canoeing  trip  had  been 
a  signal. from  the  Great  Spirit — the  canoe  had  proceeded 
from  east  to  west,  the  course  always  followed  by  the  red 
man.  The  specters  had  been  sent  from  the  Happy  Hunt- 
ing-Grounds  to  indicate  that  the  tribe  should  move  farther 
west,  and  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  monthly  signal 
was  augured  to  mean  the  extinction  of  the  race. 

Once  when  Will  was  standing  on  the  border  of  this 
lake  a  Sioux  warrior  came  up  to  him.  This  man  was 
unusually  intelligent,  and  desired  that  his  children  should 
be  educated.  He  sent  his  two  sons  to  Carlisle,  and  him- 
self took  great  pains  to  learn  the  white  man's  religious 
beliefs,  though  he  still  clung  to  his  old  savage  customs  and 
superstitions.  A  short  time  before  he  talked  with  Will 
large  companies  of  Indians  had  made  pilgrimages  to  join 
one  large  conclave,  for  the  purpose  of  celebrating  the  Mes- 
siah, or  " Ghost  Dance."  Like  all  religious  celebrations 
among  savage  people,  it  was  accompanied  by  the  grossest 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         239 

excesses  and  most  revolting  immoralities.  As  it  was  not 
known  what  serious  happening  these  large  gatherings  might 
portend,  the  President,  at  the  request  of  many  people,  sent 
troops  to  disperse  the  Indians.  The  Indians  resisted,  and 
blood  was  spilled,  among  the  slain  being  the  sons  of  the 
Indian  who  stood  by  the  side  of  the  haunted  lake. 

"It  is  written  in  the  Great  Book  of  the  white  man," 
said  the  old  chief  to  Will,  "that  the  Great  Spirit — the 
Nan-tan-in-chor — is  to  come  to  him  again  on  earth.  The 
white  men  in  the  big  villages  go  to  their  council-lodges 
(churches)  and  talk  about  the  time  of  his  coming.  Some 
say  one  time,  some  say  another,  but  they  all  know  the  time 
will  come,  for  it  is  written  in  the  Great  Book.  It  is  the 
great  and  good  among  the  white  men  that  go  to  these 
council-lodges,  and  those  that  do  not  go  say,  '  It  is  well ; 
we  believe  as  they  believe;  He  will  come.'  It  is  written 
in  the  Great  Book  of  the  white  man  that  all  the  human 
beings  on  earth  are  the  children  of  the  one  Great  Spirit. 
He  provides  and  cares  for  them.  All  he  asks  in  return  is 
that  his  children  obey  him,  that  they  be  good  to  one 
another,  that  they  judge  not  one  another,  and  that  they 
do  not  kill  or  steal.  Have  I  spoken  truly  the  words  of  the 
white  man's  Book?" 

Will  bowed  his  head,  somewhat  surprised  at  the  tone  of 
the  old  chief's  conversation.  The  other  continued: 

"The  red  man,  too,  has  a  Great  Book.  You  have  never 
seen  it;  no  white  man  has  ever  seen  it;  it  is  hidden  here." 
He  pressed  his  hand  against  his  heart.  "The  teachings  of 
the  two  books  are  the  same.  What  the  Great  Spirit  says 
to  the  white  man,  'the  Nan-tan-in-chor  says  to  the  red 
man.  We,  too,  go  to  our  council-lodges  to  talk  of  the 
second  coming.  We  have  our  ceremony,  as  the  white 
man  has  his.  The  white  man  is  solemn,  sorrowful;  the 


240  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

red  man  is  happy  and  glad.  We  dance  and  are  joyful,  and 
the  white  man  sends  soldiers  to  shoot  us  down.  Does 
their  Great  Spirit  tell  them  to  do  this? 

"In  the  big  city  (Washington)  where  I  have  been,  there 
is  another  big  book  (the  Federal  Constitution),  which  says 
the  white  man  shall  not  interfere  with  the  religious  liberty 
of  another.  And  yet  they  come  out  to  our  country  and 
kill  us  when  we  show  our  joy  to  Nan-tan-in-chor. 

"We  rejoice  over  his  second  coming;  the  white  man 
mourns,  but  he  sends  his  soldiers  to  kill  us  in  our  rejoicing. 
Bah !  The  white  man  is  false.  I  return  to  my  people,  and 
to  the  customs  and  habits  of  my  forefathers.  I  am  an 
Indian!" 

The  old  chief  strode  away  with  the  dignity  of  a  red 
Caesar,  and  Will,  alone  by  the  lake,  reflected  that  every 
question  has  two  sides  to  it.  The  one  the  red  man  has 
held  in  the  case  of  the  commonwealth  versus  the  Indian  has 
ever  been  the  tragic  side. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

TOUR    OF    GREAT    BRITAIN. 

IT  was  not  until  the  spring  of  1883  that  Will  was  able  to 
put  into  execution  his  long-cherished  plan — to  present  to 
the  public  an  exhibition  which  should  delineate  in  throb- 
bing and  realistic  color,  not  only  the  wild  life  of  America, 
but  the  actual  history  of  the  West,  as  it  was  lived  for, 
fought  for,  died  for,  by  Indians,  pioneers,  and  soldiers. 

The  wigwam  village;  the  Indian  war-dance;  the  chant 
to  the  Great  Spirit  as  it  was  sung  over  the  plains;  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  famous  tribes;  the  " Forward,  march!"  of 
soldiers,  and  the  building  of  frontier  posts;  the  life  of 
scouts  and  trappers;  the  hunt  of  the  buffalo;  the  coming 
of  the  first  settlers;  their  slow,  perilous  progress  in  the 
prairie  schooners  over  the  vast  and  desolate  plains;  the 
period  of  the  Deadwood  stage  and  the  Pony  Express; 
the  making  of  homes  in  the  face  of  fire  and  Indian  massa- 
cre; United  States  cavalry  on  the  firing-line,  "Death  to 
the  Sioux!" — these  are  the  great  historic  pictures  of  the 
Wild  West,  stirring,  genuine,  heroic. 

It  was  a  magnificent  plan  on  a  magnificent  scale,  and  it 
achieved  instant  success.  The  adventurous  phases  of 
Western  life  never  fail  to  quicken  the  pulse  of  the  East. 

An  exhibition  which  embodied  so  much  of  the  historic 
and  picturesque,  which  resurrected  a  whole  half-century  of 
dead  and  dying  events,  events  the  most  thrilling  and  dra- 
matic in  American  history,  naturally  stirred  up  the  interest 

241 


242         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

of  the  entire  country.  The  actors,  too,  were  historic  char- 
acters— no  weakling  imitators,  but  men  of  sand  and  grit, 
who  had  lived  every  inch  of  the  life  they  pictured. 

The  first  presentation  was  given  in  May,  1883,  at 
Omaha,  Nebraska,  the  state  Will  had  chosen  for  his  home. 
Since  then  it  has  visited  nearly  every  large  city  on  the  civi- 
lized globe,  and  has  been  viewed  by  countless  thousands — 
men,  women,  and  children  of  every  nationality.  It  will 
long  hold  a  place  in  history. 

The  " grand  entrance"  alone  has  never  failed  to  chain 
the  interest  of  the  onlooker.  The  furious  galloping  of  the 
Indian  braves — Sioux,  Arapahoe,  Brule,  and  Cheyenne, 
all  in  war  paint  and  feathers;  the  free  dash  of  the  Mexicans 
and  cowboys,  as  they  follow  the  Indians  into  line  at  break- 
neck speed;  the  black-bearded  Cossacks  of  the  Czar's  light 
cavalry;  the  Riffian  Arabs  on  their  desert  thoroughbreds; 
a  cohort  from  the  "Queen's  Own"  Lancers;  troopers 
from  the  German  Emperor's  bodyguard;  chasseurs  and 
cuirassiers  from  the  crack  cavalry  regiments  of  European 
standing  armies;  detachments  from  the  United  States 
cavalry  and  artillery;  South  American  gauchos;  Cuban 
veterans;  Porto  Ricans;  Hawaiians;  again  frontiersmen, 
rough  riders,  Texas  rangers — all  plunging  with  dash  and 
spirit  into  the  open,  each  company  followed  by  its  chief- 
tain and  its  flag;  forming  into  a  solid  square,  tremulous 
with  color;  then  a  quicker  note  to  the  music;  the  gallop- 
ing hoofs  of  another  horse,  the  finest  of  them  all,  and 
" Buffalo  Bill,"  riding  with  the  wonderful  ease  and  stately 
grace  which  only  he  who  is  "born  to  the  saddle"  can  ever 
attain,  enters  under  the  flash  of  the  lime-light,  and  sweep- 
ing off  his  sombrero,  holds  his  head  high,  and  with  a  ring 
of  pride  in  his  voice,  advances  before  his  great  audience 
and  exclaims: 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.  243 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you 
a  congress  of  the  rough  riders  of  the  world." 

As  a  child  I  wept  over  his  disregard  of  the  larger  sphere 
predicted  by  the  soothsayer;  as  a  woman,  I  rejoice  that  he 
was  true  to  his  own  ideals,  for  he  sits  his  horse  with  a 
natural  grace  much  better  suited  to  the  saddle  than  to  the 
Presidential  chair. 

From  the  very  beginning  the  "Wild  West"  was  an 
immense  success.  Three  years  were  spent  in  traveling 
over  the  United  States;  then  Will  conceived  the  idea  of 
visiting  England,  and  exhibiting  to  the  mother  race  the 
wild  side  of  the  child's  life.  This  plan  entailed  enormous 
expense,  but  it  was  carried  out  successfully. 

Still   true  to  the  state  of  his   adoption,  Will  chartered 
the  steamer  "State  of  Nebraska,"  and  on  March  31,  1886 
a  living  freight  from  the  picturesque  New  World  began  its 
voyage  to  the  Old. 

At  Gravesend,  England,  the  first  sight  to  meet  the 
eyes  of  the  watchers  on  the  steamer  was  a  tug  flying  Amer- 
ican colors.  Three  ringing  cheers  saluted  the  beautiful 
emblem,  and  the  band  on  the  tug  responded  with  "The 
Star-Spangled  Banner."  Not  to  be  outdone,  the  cowboy 
band  on  the  "State  of  Nebraska"  struck  up  "Yankee 
Doodle."  The  tug  had  been  chartered  by  a  company  of 
Englishmen  for  the  purpose  of  welcoming  the  novel  Amer- 
ican combination  to  British  soil. 

When  the  landing  was  made,  the  members  of  the  Wild 
West  company  entered  special  coaches  and  were  whirled 
toward  London.  Then  even  the  stolidity  of  the  Indians 
was  not  proof  against  sights  so  little  resembling  those  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed,  and  they  showed  their 
pleasure  and  appreciation  by  frequent  repetition  of  the  red 
man's  characteristic  grunt. 


244         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Major  John  M.  Burke  had  made  the  needed  arrange- 
ments for  housing  the  big  show,  and  preparations  on  a 
gigantic  scale  were  rapidly  pushed  to  please  an  impatient 
London  public.  More  effort  was  made  to  produce  spec- 
tacular effects  in  the  London  amphitheater  than  is  possible 
where  a  merely  temporary  staging  is  erected  for  one  day's 
exhibition.  The  arena  was  a  third  of  a  mile  in  circumfer- 
ence, and  provided  accommodation  for  forty  thousand 
spectators.  Here,  as  at  Manchester,  where  another  great 
amphitheater  was  erected  in  the  fall,  to  serve  as  winter 
quarters,  the  artist's  brush  was  called  on  to  furnish  illu- 
sions. 

The  English  exhibited  an  eager  interest  in  every  feature 
of  the  exhibition  —  the  Indian  war-dances,  the  bucking 
broncho,  speedily  subjected  by  the  valorous  cowboy,  and 
the  stagecoach  attacked  by  Indians  and  rescued  by  United 
States  troops.  The  Indian  village  on  the  plains  was  also 
an  object  of  dramatic  interest  to  the  English  public.  The 
artist  had  counterfeited  the  plains  successfully. 

It  is  the  hour  of  dawn.  Scattered  about  the  plains 
are  various  wild  animals.  Within  their  tents  the  Indians 
are  sleeping.  Sunrise,  and  a  friendly  Indian  tribe  comes 
to  visit  the  wakening  warriors.  A  friendly  dance  is  exe- 
cuted, at  the  close  of  which  a  courier  rushes  in  to  announce 
the  approach  of  a  hostile  tribe.  These  follow  almost  at 
the  courier's  heels,  and  a  sham  battle  occurs,  which  affords 
a  good  idea  of  the  barbarity  of  Indian  warfare.  The  victors 
celebrate  their  triumph  with  a  wild  war-dance. 

A  Puritan  scene  follows.  The  landing  of  the  Pilgrims 
is  shown,  and  the  rescue  of  John  Smith  by  Pocahontas. 
This  affords  opportunity  for  delineating  many  interesting 
Indian  customs  on  festive  celebrations,  such  as  weddings 
and  feast-days. 


LAST  OF  THE'  GREAT  SCOUTS.         245 

Again  the  prairie.  A  buffalo-lick  is  shown.  The 
shaggy  monsters  come  down  to  drink,  and  in  pursuit  of 
them  is  "Buffalo  Bill,"  mounted  on  his  good  horse 
"Charlie."  He  has  been  acting  as  guide  for  an  emigrant 
party,  which  soon  appears.  Camp-fires  are  lighted,  supper 
is, eaten,  and  the  camp  sinks  into  slumber  with  the  dwin- 
dling of  the  fires.  Then  comes  a  fine  bit  of  stage  illusion. 
A  red  glow  is  seen  in  the  distance,  faint  at  first,  but  slowly 
deepening  and  broadening.  It  creeps  along  the  whole 
horizon,  and  the  camp  is  awakened  by  the  alarming  intelli- 
gence that  the  prairie  is  on  fire.  The  emigrants  rush  out, 
and  heroically  seek  to  fight  back  the  rushing,  roaring 
flames.  Wild  animals,  driven  by  the  flames,  dash  through 
the  camp,  and  a  stampede  follows.  This  scene  was 
extremely  realistic. 

A  cyclone  was  also  simulated,  and  a  whole  village 
blown  out  of  existence. 

The  "Wild  West"  was  received  with  enthusiasm,  not 
only  by  the  general  public,  but  by  royalty.  Gladstone 
made  a  call  upon  Will,  in  company  with  the  Marquis  of 
Lome,  and  in  return  a  lunch  was  tendered  to  the  "Grand 
Old  Man"  by  the  American  visitors.  In  an  after-dinner 
speech,  the  English  statesman  spoke  in  the  warmest  terms 
of  America.  He  thanked  Will  for  the  good  he  was  doing 
in  presenting  to  the  English  public  a  picture  of  the  wild  life 
of  the  Western  continent,  which  served  to  illustrate  the 
difficulties  encountered  by  a  sister  nation  in  its  onward 
march  of  civilization. 

The  initial  performance  was  before  a  royal  party  com- 
prising the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  and  suite.  At 
the  close  of  the  exhibition  the  royal  guests,  at  their  own 
request,  were  presented  to  the  members  of  the  company. 
Unprepared  for  this  contingency,  Will  had  forgotten  to 


246         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

coach  the  performers  in  the  correct  method  of  saluting 
royalty,  and  when  the  girl  shots  of  the  company  were 
presented  to  the  Princess  of  Wales,  they  stepped  forward 
in  true  democratic  fashion  and  cordially  offered  their  hands 
to  the  lovely  woman  who  had  honored  them. 

According  to  English  usage,  the  Princess  extends  the 
hand,  palm  down,  to  favored  guests,  and  these  reverently 
touch  the  finger-tips  and  lift  the  hand  to  their  lips.  Per- 
haps the  spontaneity  of  the  American  girls'  welcome  was 
esteemed  a  pleasing  variety  to  the  established  custom.  At 
all  events,  her  Highness,  true  to  her  breeding,  appeared 
not  to  notice  any  breach  of  etiquette,  but  took  the  prof- 
fered hands  and  shook  them  cordially. 

The  Indian  camp  was  also  visited,  and  Red  Shirt,  the 
great  chief,  was,  like  every  one  else,  delighted  with  the 
Princess.  Through  an  interpreter  the  Prince  expressed 
his  pleasure  over  the  performance  of  the  braves,  headed  by 
their  great  chief,  and  the  Princess  bade  him  welcome  to 
England.  Red  Shirt  had  the  Indian  gift  of  oratory,  and 
he  replied,  in  the  unimpassioned  speech  for  which  the  race 
is  noted,  that  it  made  his  heart  glad  to  hear  such  kind 
words  from  the  Great  White  Chief  and  his  beautiful 
squaw. 

During  the  round  the  Prince  stopped  in  at  Will's  private 
quarters,  and  took  much  interest  in  his  souvenirs,  being 
especially  pleased  with  a  magnificent  gold-hilted  sword, 
presented  to  Will  by  officers  of  the  United  States  army  in 
recognition  of  his  services  as  scout. 

This  was  not  the  only  time  the  exhibition  was  honored 
by  the  visit  of  royalty.  That  the  Prince  of  Wales  was  sin- 
cere in  his  expression  of  enjoyment  of  the  exhibition  was 
evidenced  by  the  report  that  he  carried  to  his  mother,  and 
shortly  afterward  a  command  came  from  Queen  Victoria 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         247 

that  the  big  show  appear  before  her.  It  was  plainly 
impossible  to  take  the  "Wild  West"  to  court;  the  next 
best  thing  was  to  construct  a  special  box  for  the  use  of  her 
Majesty.  This  box  was  placed  upon  a  dais  covered  with 
crimson  velvet  trimmings,  and  was  superbly  decorated. 
When  the  Queen  arrived  and  was  driven  around  to  the 
royal  box,  Will  stepped  forward  as  she  dismounted,  and 
doffing  his  sombrero,  made  a  low  courtesy  to  the  sovereign 
lady  of  Great  Britain.  "Welcome,  your  Majesty,"  said 
he,  "to  the  Wild  West  of  America!" 

One  of  the  first  acts  in  the  performance  is  to  carry  the 
flag  to  the  front.  This  is  done  by  a  soldier,  and  is  intro- 
duced to  the  spectators  as  an  emblem  of  a  nation  desirous 
of  peace  and  friendship  with  all  the  world.  On  this  occa- 
sion it  was  borne  directly  before  the  Queen's  box,  and 
dipped  three  times  in  honor  of  her  Majesty.  The  action 
of  the  Queen  surprised  the  company  and  the  vast  throng 
of  spectators.  Rising,  she  saluted  the  American  flag  with 
a  bow,  and  her  suite  followed  her  example,  the  gentlemen 
removing  their  hats.  Will  acknowledged  the  courtesy  by 
waving  his  sombrero  about  his  head,  and  his  delighted 
company  with  one  accord  gave  three  ringing  cheers  that 
made  the  arena  echo,  assuring  the  spectators  of  the  healthy 
condition  of  the  lungs  of  the  American  visitors. 

The  Queen's  complaisance  put  the  entire  company  on 
their  mettle,  and  the  performance  was  given  magnificently. 
At  the  close  Queen  Victoria  asked  to  have  Will  presented 
to  her,  and  paid  him  so  many  compliments  as  almost  to 
bring  a  blush  to  his  bronzed  cheek.  Red  Shirt  was  also 
presented,  and  informed  her  Majesty  that  he  had  come 
across  the  Great  Water  solely  to  see  her,  and  his  heart  was 
glad.  This  polite  speech  discovered  a  streak  in  Indian 
nature  that,  properly  cultivated,  would  fit  the  red  man  to 


248         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

shine  as  a  courtier  or  politician.  Red  Shirt  walked  away 
with  the  insouciance  of  a  king  dismissing  an  audience,  and 
some  of  the  squaws  came  to  display  papooses  to  the  Great 
White  Lady.  These  children  of  nature  were  not  the  least 
awed  by  the  honor  done  them.  They  blinked  at  her 
Majesty  as  if  the  presence  of  queens  was  an  incident  of 
their  everyday  existence. 

A  second  command  from  the  Queen  resulted  in  another 
exhibition  before  a  number  of  her  royal  guests.  The  kings 
of  Saxony,  Denmark,  and  Greece,  the  Queen  of  the  Bel- 
gians, and  the  Crown  Prince  of  Austria,  with  others  of 
lesser  rank,  illumined  this  occasion. 

The  Deadwood  coach  was  peculiarly  honored.  This  is 
a  coach  with  a  history.  It  was  built  in  Concord,  New 
Hampshire,  and  sent  to  the  Pacific  Coast  to  run  over  a 
trail  infested  by  road  agents.  A  number  of  times  was  it 
held  up  and  the  passengers  robbed,  and  finally  both  driver 
and  passengers  were  killed  and  the  coach  abandoned  on  the 
trail,  as  no  one  could  be  found  who  would  undertake  to 
drive  it.  It  remained  derelict  for  a  long  time,  but  was  at 
last  brought  into  San  Francisco  by  an  old  stage-driver  and 
placed  on  the  Overland  trail.  It  gradually  worked  its  way 
eastward  to  the  Deadwood  route,  and  on  this  line  figured 
in  a  number  of  encounters  with  Indians.  Again  were  driver 
and  passengers  massacred,  and  again  was  the  coach  aban- 
doned. Will  ran  across  it  on  one  of  his  scouting  expedi- 
tions, and  recognizing  its  value  as  an  adjunct  to  his  exhibi- 
tion, purchased  it.  Thereafter  the  tragedies  it  figured  in 
were  of  the  mock  variety. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  the  Wild  West,  as  all  re- 
member, is  an  Indian  attack  on  the  Deadwood  coach. 
The  royal  visitors  wished  to  put  themselves  in  the  place 
of  the  traveling  public  in  the  Western  regions  of  America; 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         249 

so  the  four  potentates  of  Denmark,  Saxony,  Greece,  and 
Austria  became  the  passengers,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales 
sat  on  the  box  with  Will.  The  Indians  had  been  secretly 
instructed  to  "whoop  'em  up"  on  this  interesting  occasion, 
and  they  followed  energetically  the  letter  of  their  instruc- 
tions. The  coach  was  surrounded  by  a  demoniac  band, 
and  the  blank  cartridges  were  discharged  in  such  close 
proximity  to  the  coach  windows  that  the  passengers  could 
easily  imagine  themselves  to  be  actual  Western  travelers. 
Rumor  hath  it  that  they  sought  refuge  under  the  seats, 
and  probably  no  one  would  blame  them  if  they  did ;  but  it 
is  only  rumor,  and  not  history. 

When  the  wild  ride  was  over,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who 
admires  the  American  national  game  of  poker,  turned  to 
the  driver  with  the  remark: 

"Colonel,  did  you  ever  hold  four  kings  like  that  before?" 

"I  have  held  four  kings  more  than  once,"  was  the 
prompt  reply;  "but,  your  Highness,  I  never  held  four 
kings  and  the  royal  joker  before." 

The  Prince  laughed  heartily;  but  Will's  sympathy  went 
out  to  him  when  he  found  that  he  was  obliged  to  explain 
his  joke  in  four  different  languages  to  the  passengers. 

In  recognition  of  this  performance,  the  Prince  of  Wales 
sent  Will  a  handsome  souvenir.  It  consisted  of  his  feath- 
ered crest,  outlined  in  diamonds,  and  bearing  the  motto 
" Ich  dien"  worked  in  jewels  underneath.  An  accom- 
panying note  expressed  the  pleasure  of  the  royal  visitors 
over  the  novel  exhibition. 

Upon  another  occasion  the  Princess  of  Wales  visited 
the  show  incognito,  first  advising  Will  of  her  intention; 
and  at  the  close  of  the  performance  assured  him  that  she 
had  spent  a  delightful  evening. 

The  set  performances  of  the  "Wild  West"  were  punc- 


250         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

tuated  by  social  entertainments.  James  G.  Blaine, 
Chauncey  M.  Depew,  Murat  Halstead,  and  other  promi- 
nent Americans  were  in  London  at  the  time,  and  in  their 
honor  Will  issued  invitations  to  a  rib-roast  breakfast  pre- 
pared in  Indian  style.  Fully  one  hundred  guests  gathered 
in  the  "Wild  West's"  dining-tent  at  nine  o'clock  of  June 
10,  1887.  Besides  the  novel  decorations  of  the  tent,  it 
was  interesting  to  watch  the  Indian  cooks  putting  the 
finishing  touches  to  their  roasts.  A  hole  had  been  dug  in 
the  ground,  a  large  tripod  erected  over  it,  and  upon  this 
the  ribs  of  beef  were  suspended.  The  fire  was  of  logs, 
burned  down  to  a  bed  of  glowing  coals,  and  over  these  the 
meat  was  turned  around  and  around  until  it  was  cooked  to 
a  nicety.  This  method  of  open-air  cooking  over  wood 
imparts  to  the  meat  a  flavor  that  can  be  given  to  it  in  no 
other  way. 

The  breakfast  was  unconventional.  Part  of  the  bill  of 
fare  was  hominy,  "Wild  West"  pudding,  popcorn,  and 
peanuts.  The  Indians  squatted  on  the  straw  at  the  end 
of  the  dining-tables,  and  ate  from  their  fingers  or  speared 
the  meat  with  long  white  sticks.  The  striking  contrast  of 
table  manners  was  an  interesting  object-lesson  in  the  prog- 
ress of  civilization. 

The  breakfast  was  a  novelty  to  the  Americans  who  par- 
took of  it,  and  they  enjoyed  it  thoroughly. 

Will  was  made  a  social  lion  during  his  stay  in  London, 
being  dined  and  feted  upon  various  occasions.  Only  a 
man  of  the  most  rugged  health  could  have  endured  the 
strain  of  his  daily  performances  united  with  his  social  obli- 
gations. 

The  London  season  was  triumphantly  closed  with  a 
meeting  for  the  establishing  of  a  court  of  arbitration  to 
settle  disputes  between  America  and  England. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         251 

After  leaving  the  English  metropolis  the  exhibition  vis- 
ited Birmingham,  and  thence  proceeded  to  its  winter  head- 
quarters in  Manchester.  Arta,  Will's  elder  daughter, 
accompanied  him  to  England,  and  made  a  Continental 
tour  during  the  winter. 

The  sojourn  in  Manchester  was  another  ovation.  The 
prominent  men  of  the  city  proposed  to  present  to  Will  a 
fine  rifle,  and  when  the  news  of  the  plan  was  carried  to 
London,  a  company  of  noblemen,  statesmen,  and  journal- 
ists ran  down  to  Manchester  by  special  car.  In  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  honor  done  him,  Will  issued  invitations 
for  another  of  his  unique  American  entertainments.  Bos- 
ton pork  and  beans,  Maryland  fried  chicken,  hominy,  and 
popcorn  were  served,  and  there  were  other  distinctly 
American  dishes.  An  Indian  rib-roast  was  served  on  tin 
plates,  and  the  distinguished  guests  enjoyed — or  said  they 
did — the  novelty  of  eating  it  from  their  fingers,  in  true 
aboriginal  fashion.  This  remarkable  meal  evoked  the 
heartiest  of  toasts  to  the  American  flag,  and  a  poem,  a 
parody  on  *  'Hiawatha,"  added  luster  to  the  occasion. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  was  Grand  Master  of  the  Free 
Masons  of  England,  which  order  presented  a  gold  watch  to 
Will  during  his  stay  in  Manchester.  The  last  performance 
in  this  city  was  given  on  May  I,  1887,  and  as  a  good  by  to 
Will  the  spectators  united  in  a  rousing  chorus  of  "For  he's 
a  jolly  good  fellow!"  The  closing  exhibition  of  the  Eng- 
lish season  occurred  at  Hull,  and  immediately  afterward 
the  company  sailed  for  home  on  the  "Persian  Monarch." 
An  immense  crowd  gathered  on  the  quay,  and  shouted  a 
cordial  "bon  voyage." 

One  sad  event  occurred  on  the  homeward  voyage,  the 
death  of  "Old  Charlie,"  Will's  gallant  and  faithful  horse. 
He  was  a  half-blood  Kentucky  horse,  and  had  been  Will's 


252         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

constant  and  unfailing  companion  for  many  years  on  the 
plains  and  in  the  "Wild  West." 

He  was  an  animal  of  almost  human  intelligence,  extraor- 
dinary speed,  endurance,  and  fidelity.  When  he  was  quite 
young  Will  rode  him  on  a  hunt  for  wild  horses,  which 
he  ran  down  after  a  chase  of  fifteen  miles.  At  another 
time,  on  a  wager  of  five  hundred  dollars  that  he  could  ride 
him  over  the  prairie  one  hundred  miles  in  ten  hours,  he 
went  the  distance  in  nine  hours  and  forty-five  minutes. 

When  the  "Wild  West"  was  opened  at  Omaha,  Charlie 
was  the  star  horse,  and  held  that  position  at  all  the  exhibi- 
tions in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  In  London  the 
horse  attracted  a  full  share  of  attention,  and  many  scions 
of  royalty  solicited  the  favor  of  riding  him.  Grand  Duke 
Michael  of  Russia  rode  Charlie  several  times  in  chase  of  the 
herd  of  buffaloes  in  the  "Wild  West,"  and  became  quite 
attached  to  him. 

On  the  morning  of  the  I4th  Will  made  his  usual  visit 
to  Charlie,  between  decks.  Shortly  after  the  groom 
reported  him  sick.  He  grew  rapidly  worse,  in  spite  of  all 
the  care  he  received,  and  at  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
the  i /th  he  died.  His  death  cast  an  air  of  sadness  over 
the  whole  ship,  and  no  human  being  could  have  had  more 
sincere  mourners  than  the  faithful  and  sagacious  old  horse. 
He  was  brought  on  deck  wrapped  in  canvas  and  covered 
with  the  American  flag.  When  the  hour  for  the  ocean 
burial  arrived,  the  members  of  the  company  and  others 
assembled  on  deck.  Standing  alone  with  uncovered  head 
beside  the  dead  was  the  one  whose  life  the  noble  animal 
had  shared  so  long.  At  length,  with  choking  utterance, 
Will  spoke,  and  Charlie  for  the  first  time  failed  to  hear  the 
familiar  voice  he  had  always  been  so  prompt  to  obey: 

'  *  Old  fellow,  your  journeys  are  over.      Here  in  the  ocean 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         253 

you  must  rest.  Would  that  I  could  take  you  back  and  lay 
you  down  beneath  the  billows  of  that  prairie  you  and  I 
have  loved  so  well  and  roamed  so  freely;  but  it  cannot  be. 
How  often  at  break  of  day,  the  glorious  sun  rising  on 
the  horizon  has  found  us  far  from  human  habitation!  Yet, 
obedient  to  my  call,  gladly  you  bore  your  burden  on,  little 
heeding  what  the  day  might  bring,  so  that  you  and  I  but 
shared  its  sorrows  and  pleasures  alike.  You  have  never 
failed  me.  Ah,  Charlie,  old  fellow,  I  have  had  many 
friends,  but  few  of  whom  I  could  say  that.  Rest 
entombed  in  the  deep  bosom  of  the  ocean!  I'll  never 
forget  you.  I  loved  you  as  you  loved  me,  my  dear  old 
Charlie.  Men  tell  me  you  have  no  soul ;  but  if  there  be  a 
heaven,  and  scouts  can  enter  there,  I'll  wait  at  the  gate 
for  you,  old  friend." 

On  this  homeward  trip  Will  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  clergyman  returning  from  a  vacation  spent  in  Europe. 
When  they  neared  the  American  coast  this  gentleman  pre- 
pared a  telegram  to  send  to  his  congregation.  It  read 
simply:  112  John  i.  12."  Chancing  to  see  it,  Will's  in- 
terest was  aroused,  and  he  asked  the  clergyman  to  explain 
the  significance  of  the  reference,  and  when  this  was  done 
he  said:  "I  have  a  religious  sister  at  home  who  knows  the 
Bible  so  well  that  I  will  wire  her  that  message  and  she  will 
not  need  to  look  up  the  meaning." 

He  duplicated  to  me,  as  his  return  greeting,  the  minis- 
ter's telegram  to  his  congregation,  but  I  did  not  justify  his 
high  opinion  of  my  Biblical  knowledge.  I  was  obliged  to 
search  the  Scriptures  to  unravel  the  enigma.  As  there  may 
be  others  like  me,  but  who  have  not  the  incentive  I  had  to 
look  up  the  reference,  I  quote  from  God's  word  the  mes- 
sage I  received:  "Having  many  things  to  write  unto  you, 
I  would  not  write  with  paper  and  ink;  but  I  trust  to  come 
unto  you,  and  speak  face  to  face,  that  our  joy  may  be  full. " 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

RETURN    OF    THE    "WILD    WEST"    TO    AMERICA. 

WHEN  the  "Wild  West"  returned  to  America  from  its  first 
venture  across  seas,  the  sail  up  the  harbor  was  described 
by  the  New  York  World  in  the  following  words : 

"The  harbor  probably  has  never  witnessed  a  more  picturesque 
scene  than  that  of  yesterday,  when  the  '  Persian  Monarch '  steamed  up 
from  quarantine.  Buffalo  Bill  stood  on  the  captain's  bridge,  his  tall  and 
striking  figure  clearly  outlined,  and  his  long  hair  waving  in  the  wind; 
the  gayly  painted  and  blanketed  Indians  leaned  over  the  ship's  rail;  the 
flags  of  all  nations  fluttered  from  the  masts  and  connecting  cables.  The 
cowboy  band  played  'Yankee  Doodle  '  with  a  vim  and  enthusiasm  which 
faintly  indicated  the  joy  felt  by  everybody  connected  with  the  'Wild 
West'  over  the  sight  of  home." 

Will  had  been  cordially  welcomed  by  our  English  cous- 
ins, and  had  been  the  recipient  of  many  social  favors,  but 
no  amount  of  foreign  flattery  could  change  him  one  hair 
from  an  "American  of  the  Americans,"  and  he  experienced 
a  thrill  of  delight  as  he  again  stepped  foot  upon  his  native 
land.  Shortly  afterward  he  was  much  pleased  by  a  letter 
from  William  T.  Sherman — so  greatly  prized  that  it  was 
framed,  and  now  hangs  on  the  wall  of  his  Nebraska  home. 
Following  is  a  copy: 

"  FIFTH  AVENUE  HOTEL,  NEW  YORK. 
"COLONEL  WM.  F.  CODY  : 

"Dear  Sir  :  In  common  with  all  your  countrymen,  I  want  to  let 
you  know  that  I  am  not  only  gratified  but  proud  of  your  management 
and  success.  So  far  as  I  can  make  out,  you  have  been  modest,  graceful, 
and  dignified  in  all  you  have  done  to  illustrate  the  history  of  civilization 

254 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         255 

on  this  continent  during  the  past  century.  I  am  especially  pleased  with 
the  compliment  paid  you  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  rode  with  you  in 
the  Deadwood  coach  while  it  was  attacked  by  Indians  and  rescued  by 
cowboys.  Such  things  did  occur  in  our  days,  but  they  never  will  again. 

"As  nearly  as  I  can  estimate,  there  were  in  1865  about  nine  and 
one-half  million  of  buffaloes  on  the  plains  between  the  Missouri  River 
and  the  Rocky  Mountains;  all  are  now  gone,  killed  for  their  meat,  their 
skins,  and  their  bones.  This  seems  like  desecration,  cruelty,  and  mur- 
der, yet  they  have  been  replaced  by  twice  as  many  cattle.  At  that  date 
there  were  about  165,000  Pawnees,  Sioux,  Cheyennes,  and  Arapahoes, 
who  depended  upon  these  buffaloes  for  their  yearly  food.  They,  too,  have 
gone,  but  they  have  been  replaced  by  twice  or  thrice  as  many  white  men 
and  women,  who  have  made  the  earth  to  blossom  as  the  rose,  and  who 
can  be  counted,  taxed,  and  governed  by  the  laws  of  nature  and  civiliza- 
tion. This  change  has  been  salutary,  and  will  go  on  to  the  end.  You 
have  caught  one  epoch  of  this  country's  history,  and  have  illustrated  it 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  modern  world — London,  and  I  want  you  to  feel 
that  on  this  side  of  the  water  we  appreciate  it. 

"  This  drama  must  end;  days,  years,  and  centuries  follow  fast;  even 
the  drama  of  civilization  must  have  an  end.  All  I  aim  to  accomplish  on 
this  sheet  of  paper  is  to  assure  you  that  I  fully  recognize  your  work. 
The  presence  of  the  Queen,  the  beautiful  Princess  of  Wales,  the  Prince, 
and  the  British  public  are  marks  of  favor  which  reflect  back  on  America 
sparks  of  light  which  illuminate  many  a  house  and  cabin  in  the  land 
where  once  you  guided  me  honestly  and  faithfully,  in  1865-66,  from  Fort 
Riley  to  Kearny,  in  Kansas  and  Nebraska. 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

W.  T.  SHERMAN." 

Having  demonstrated  to  his  satisfaction  that  the  largest 
measure  of  success  lay  in  a  stationary  exhibition  of  his 
show,  where  the  population  was  large  enough  to  warrant  it, 
Will  purchased  a  tract  of  land  on  Staten  Island,  and  here 
he  landed  on  his  return  from  England.  Teamsters  for 
miles  around  had  been  engaged  to  transport  the  outfit 
across  the  island  to  Erastina,  the  site  chosen  for  the  exhibi- 
tion. And  you  may  be  certain  that  Cut  Meat,  American 
Bear,  Flat  Iron,  and  the  other  Indians  furnished  unlimited 
joy  to  the  ubiquitous  small  boy,  who  was  present  by  the 
hundreds  to  watch  the  unloading  scenes. 


256         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

The  summer  season  at  this  point  was  a  great  success. 
One  incident  connected  with  it  may  be  worth  the  relating. 

Teachers  everywhere  have  recognized  the  value  of  the 
"  Wild  West"  exhibition  as  an  educator,  and  in  a  number  of 
instances  public  schools  have  been  dismissed  to  afford  the 
children  an  opportunity  of  attending  the  entertainment. 
It  has  not,  however,  been  generally  recognized  as  a  spur  to 
religious  progress,  yet,  while  at  Staten  Island,  Will  was 
invited  to  exhibit  a  band  of  his  Indians  at  a  missionary 
meeting  given  under  the  auspices  of  a  large  mission  Sun- 
day-school. He  appeared  with  his  warriors,  who  were 
expected  to  give  one  of  their  religious  dances  as  an  object- 
lesson  in  devotional  ceremonials. 

The  meeting  was  largely  attended,  and  every  one,  chil- 
dren especially,  waited  for  the  exercises  in  excited  curiosity 
and  interest.  Will  sat  on  the  platform  with  the  superin- 
tendent, pastor,  and  others  in  authority,  and  close  by  sat 
the  band  of  stolid-faced  Indians. 

The  service  began  with  a  hymn  and  the  reading  of  the 
Scriptures;  then,  to  Will's  horror,  the  superintendent 
requested  him  to  lead  the  meeting  in  prayer.  Perhaps  the 
good  man  fancied  that  Will  for  a  score  of  years  had  fought 
Indians  with  a  rifle  in  one  hand  and  a  prayer-book  in  the 
other,  and  was  as  prepared  to  pray  as  to  shoot.  At  least 
he  surely  did  not  make  his  request  with  the  thought  of 
embarrassing  Will,  though  that  was  the  natural  result. 
However,  Will  held  holy  things  in  deepest  reverence;  he 
had  the  spirit  of  Gospel  if  not  the  letter;  so,  rising,  he 
quietly  and  simply,  with  bowed  head,  repeated  the  Lord's 
Prayer. 

A  winter  exhibition  under  roof  was  given  in  New  York, 
after  which  the  show  made  a  tour  of  the  principal"  cities  of 
the  United  States.  Thus  passed  several  years,  and  then 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         257 

arrangements  were  made  for  a  grand  Continental  trip.  A 
plan  had  been  maturing  in  Will's  mind  ever  since  the 
British  season,  and  in  the  spring  of  1889  it  was  carried  into 
effect. 

The  steamer  "Persian  Monarch"  was  again  chartered, 
and  this  time  its  prow  was  turned  toward  the  shores  of 
France.  Paris  was  the  destination,  and  seven  months  were 
passed  in  the  gay  capital.  The  Parisians  received  the  show 
with  as  much  enthusiasm  as  did  the  Londoners,  and  in 
Paris  as  well  as  in  the  English  metropolis  everything 
American  became  a  fad  during  the  stay  of  the  "Wild 
West. "  Even  American  books  were  read — a  crucial  test  of 
faddism ;  and  American  curios  were  displayed  in  all  the 
shops.  Relics  from  American  plain  and  mountain — buffalo- 
robes,  bearskins,  buckskin  suits  embroidered  with  porcupine 
quills,  Indian  blankets,  woven  mats,  bows  and  arrows, 
bead-mats,  Mexican  bridles  and  saddles — sold  like  the  pro- 
verbial hot  cakes. 

In  Paris,  also,  Will  became  a  social  favorite,  and  had  he 
accepted  a  tenth  of  the  invitations  to  receptions,  dinners, 
and  balls  showered  upon  him,  he  would  have  been  obliged 
to  close  his  show. 

While  in  this  city  Will  accepted  an  invitation  from  Rosa 
Bonheur  to  visit  her  at  her  superb  chateau,  and  in  return 
for  the  honor  he  extended  to  her  the  freedom  of  his  stables, 
which  contained  magnificent  horses  used  for  transportation 
purposes,  and  which  never  appeared  in  the  public  perform- 
ance— Percherons,  of  the  breed  depicted  by  the  famous 
artist  in  her  well-known  painting  of  "The  Horse  Fair." 
Day  upon  day  she  visited  the  camp  and  made  studies,  and 
as  a  token  of  her  appreciation  of  the  courtesy,  painted  a 
picture  of  Will  mounted  on  his  favorite  horse,  both  horse 
and  rider  bedecked  with  frontier  paraphernalia.  This  sou- 


258          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

venir,  which  holds  the  place  of  honor  in  his  collection,  he 
immediately  shipped  home. 

The  wife  of  a  London  embassy  attache  relates  the  fol- 
lowing story: 

"During  the  time  that  Colonel  Cody  was  making  his 
triumphant  tour  of  Europe,  I  was  one  night  seated  at  a 
banquet  next  to  the  Belgian  Consul.  Early  in  the  course 
of  the  conversation  he  asked : 

"  'Madame,  you  haf  undoubted  been  to  see  ze  gr-rand 
Bouf-falo  Beel?' 

"Puzzled  by  the  apparently  unfamiliar  name,  I   asked: 

"  'Pardon  me,  but  whom  did  you  say?' 

"  'Vy,  Bouf-falo  Beel,  ze  famous  Bouf-falo  Beel,  zat 
gr-reat  countryman  of  yours.  You  must  know  him.' 

"After  a  moment's  thought,  I  recognized  the  well- 
known  showman's  name  in  its  disguise.  I  comprehended 
that  the  good  Belgian  thought  his  to  be  one  of  America's 
most  eminent  names,  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath 
with  Washington  and  Lincoln." 

After  leaving  Paris,  a  short  tour  of  Southern  France  was 
made,  and  at  Marseilles  a  vessel  was  chartered  to  transport 
the  company  to  Spain.  The  Spanish  grandees  eschewed 
their  favorite  amusement — the  bull-fight — long  enough  to 
give  a  hearty  welcome  to  the  "Wild  West."  Next  fol- 
lowed a  tour  of  Italy ;  and  the  visit  to  Rome  was  the  most 
interesting  of  the  experiences  in  this  country. 

The  Americans  reached  the  Eternal  City  at  the  time  of 
Pope  Leo's  anniversary  celebration,  and,  on  the  Pope's 
invitation,  Will  visited  the  Vatican.  Its  historic  walls  have 
rarely,  if  ever,  looked  upon  a  more  curious  sight  than  was 
presented  when  Will  walked  in,  followed  by  the  cowboys 
in  their  buckskins  and  sombreros  and  the  Indians  in  war 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         259 

paint  and  feathers.  Around  them  crowded  a  motley 
throng  of  Italians,  clad  in  the  brilliant  colors  so  loved  by 
these  children  of  the  South,  and  nearly  every  nationality 
was  represented  in  the  assemblage. 

Some  of  the  cowboys  and  Indians  had  been  reared  in 
the  Catholic  faith,  and  when  the  Pope  appeared  they  knelt 
for  his  blessing.  He  seemed  touched  by  this  action  on  the 
part  of  those  whom  he  might  be  disposed  to  regard  as  sav- 
ages, and  bending  forward,  extended  his  hands  and  pro- 
nounced a  benediction ;  then  he  passed  on,  and  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  the  Indians  were  restrained  from 
expressing  their  emotions  in  a  wild  whoop.  This,  no 
doubt,  would  have  relieved  them,  but  it  would,  in  all  prob- 
ability, have  stampeded  the  crowd. 

When  the  Pope  reached  Will  he  looked  admiringly  upon 
the  frontiersman.  The  world-known  scout  bent  his  head 
before  the  aged  " Medicine  Man,"  as  the  Indians  call  his 
reverence,  the  Papal  blessing  was  again  bestowed,  and  the 
procession  passed  on.  The  Thanksgiving  Mass,  with  its 
fine  choral  accompaniment,  was  given,  and  the  vast  con- 
course of  people  poured  out  of  the  building. 

This  visit  attracted  much  attention. 

"  I'll  take  my  stalwart  Indian  braves 

Down  to  the  Coliseum, 
And  the  old  Romans  from  their  graves 

Will  all  arise  to  see  'em. 
Praetors  and  censors  will  return 

And  hasten  through  the  Forum ; 
The  ghostly  Senate  will  adjourn, 

Because  it  lacks  a  quorum. 

"And  up  the  ancient  Appian  Way 

Will  flock  the  ghostly  legions, 
From  Gaul  unto  Calabria, 
And  from  remoter  regions; 


260          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

From  British  bay  and  wild  lagoon, 

And  Libyan  desert  sandy, 
They'll  all  come  marching  to  the  tune 

Of  '  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy.' 

"  Prepare  triumphal  cars  for  me, 

And  purple  thrones  to  sit  on, 
For  I've  done  more  than  Julius  C. — 

He  could  not  down  the  Briton  ! 
Caesar  and  Cicero  shall  bow, 

And  ancient  warriors  famous, 
Before  the  myrtle-wreathed  brow 

Of  Buffalo  Williamus. 

"  We  march,  unwhipped,  through  history — 

No  bulwark  can  detain  us — 
And  link  the  age  of  Grover  C. 

And  Scipio  Africanus. 
I'll  take  my  stalwart  Indian  braves 

Down  to  the  Coliseum, 
And  the  old  Romans  from  their  graves 

Will  all  arise  to  see  'em." 

It  may  be  mentioned  in  passing  that  Will  had  visited  the 
Coliseum  with  an  eye  to  securing  it  as  an  amphitheater  for 
the  "Wild  West"  exhibition,  but  the  historic  ruin  was  too 
dilapidated  to  be  a  safe  arena  for  such  a  purpose,  and  the 
idea  was  abandoned. 

The  sojourn  in  Rome  was  enlivened  by  an  incident  that 
created  much  interest  among  the  natives.  The  Italians 
were  somewhat  skeptical  as  to  the  abilities  of  the  cowboys 
to  tame  wild  horses,  believing  the  bronchos  in  the  show 
were  specially  trained  for  their  work,  and  that  the  horse- 
breaking  was  a  mock  exhibition. 

The  Prince  of  Sermonetta  declared  that  he  had  some 
wild  horses  in  his  stud  which  no  cowboys  in  the  world  could 
ride.  The  challenge  was  promptly  taken  up  by  the  daring 
riders  of  the  plains,  and  the  Prince  sent  for  his  wild  steeds. 
That  they  might  not  run  amuck  and  injure  the  specta- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         261 

tors,  specially  prepared  booths  of  great  strength  were 
erected. 

The  greatest  interest  and  enthusiasm  were  manifested  by 
the  populace,  and  the  death  of  two  or  three  members 
of  the  company  was  as  confidently  looked  for  as  was 
the  demise  of  sundry  gladiators  in  the  " brave  days  of 
old." 

But  the  cowboys  laughed  at  so  great  a  fuss  over  so 
small  a  matter,  and  when  the  horses  were  driven  into  the 
arena,  and  the  spectators  held  their  breath,  the  cowboys, 
lassos  in  hand,  awaited  the  work  with  the  utmost  non- 
chalance. 

The  wild  equines  sprang  into  the  air,  darted  hither  and 
thither,  and  fought  hard  against  their  certain  fate,  but  in 
less  time  than  would  be  required  to  give  the  details,  the 
cowboys  had  flung  their  lassos,  caught  the  horses,  and 
saddled  and  mounted  them.  The  spirited  beasts  still 
resisted,  and  sought  in  every  way  to  throw  their  riders,  but 
the  experienced  plainsmen  had  them  under  control  in  a 
very  short  time;  and  as  they  rode  them  around  the  arena, 
the  spectators  rose  and  howled  with  delight.  The  display 
of  horsemanship  effectually  silenced  the  skeptics;  it  cap- 
tured the  Roman  heart,  and  the  remainder  of  the  stay  in 
the  city  was  attended  by  unusual  enthusiasm. 

Beautiful  Florence,  practical  Bologna,  and  stately 
Milan,  with  its  many-spired  cathedral,  were  next  on  the 
list  for  the  triumphal  march.  For  the  Venetian  public  the 
exhibition  had  to  be  given  at  Verona,  in  the  historic 
amphitheater  built  by  Diocletian,  A.  D.  290.  This  is  the 
largest  building  in  the  world,  and  within  the  walls  of  this 
representative  of  Old  World  civilization  the  difficulties  over 
which  New  World  civilization  had  triumphed  were  por- 
trayed. Here  met  the  old  and  new;  hoary  antiquity  and 


262         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

bounding  youth  kissed  each  other  under  the  sunny  Italian 
skies. 

The  ''Wild  West"  now  moved  northward,  through  the 
Tyrol,  to  Munich,  and  from  here  the  Americans  digressed 
for  an  excursion  on  the  "beautiful  blue  Danube."  Then 
followed  a  successful  tour  of  Germany. 

During  this  Continental  circuit  Will's  elder  daughter, 
Arta,  who  had  accompanied  him  on  his  British  expedition, 
was  married.  It  was  impossible  for  the  father  to  be  pres- 
ent, but  by  cablegram  he  sent  his  congratulations  and 
check. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   TRIBUTE   TO    GENERAL   MILES. 

IN  view  of  the  success  achieved  by  my  brother,  it  is  re- 
markable that  he  excited  so  little  envy.  Now  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  felt  the  breath  of  slander  on  his  cheek, 
and  it  flushed  hotly.  From  an  idle  remark  that  the  Indi- 
ans in  the  "Wild  West"  exhibition  were  not  properly 
treated,  the  idle  gossip  grew  to  the  proportion  of  malicious 
and  insistent  slander.  The  Indians  being  government  wards, 
such  a  charge  might  easily  become  a  serious  matter;  for, 
like  the  man  who  beat  his  wife,  the  government  believes  it 
has  the  right  to  maltreat  the  red  man  to  the  top  of  its  bent, 
but  that  no  one  else  shall  be  allowed  to  do  so. 

A  winter  campaign  of  the  "Wild  West"  had  been  con- 
templated, but  the  project  was  abandoned  and  winter 
quarters  decided  on.  In  the  quaint  little  village  of  Benfield 
was  an  ancient  nunnery  and  a  castle,  with  good  stables. 
Here  Will  left  the  company  in  charge  of  his  partner,  Mr. 
Nate  Salisbury,  and,  accompanied  by  the  Indians  for 
whose  welfare  he  was  responsible,  set  sail  for  America,  to 
silence  his  calumniators. 

The  testimony  of  the  red  men  themselves  was  all  that 
was  required  to  refute  the  notorious  untruths.  Few  had 
placed  any  belief  in  the  reports,  and  friendly  commenters 
were  also  active. 

As  the  sequel  proved,  Will  came  home  very  oppor- 
tunely. The  Sioux  in  Dakota  were  again  on  the  war-path, 

263 


264         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

and  his  help  was  needed  to  subdue  the  uprising.  He  dis- 
banded the  warriors  he  had  brought  back  from  Europe,  and 
each  returned  to  his  own  tribe  and  people,  to  narrate 
around  the  camp-fire  the  wonders  of  the  life  abroad,  while 
Will  reported  at  headquarters  to  offer  his  services  for  the 
war.  Two  years  previously  he  had  been  honored  by  the 
commission  of  Brigadier-General  of  the  Nebraska  National 
Guard,  which  rank  and  title  were  given  to  him  by  Governor 
Thayer. 

The  officer  in  command  of  the  Indian  campaign  was 
General  Nelson  A.  Miles,  who  has  rendered  so  many 
important  services  to  his  country,  and  who,  as  Commander- 
in-Chief  of  our  army,  played  so  large  a  part  in  the  recent 
war  with  Spain.  At  the  time  of  the  Indian  uprising  he  held 
the  rank  of  Brigadier-General. 

This  brilliant  and  able  officer  was  much  pleased  when 
he  learned  that  he  would  have  Will's  assistance  in  conduct- 
ing the  campaign,  for  he  knew  the  value  of  his  good  judg- 
ment, cool  head,  and  executive  ability,  and  of  his  large 
experience  in  dealing  with  Indians. 

The  "Wild  West,"  which  had  served  as  an  educator  to 
the  people  of  Europe  in  presenting  the  frontier  life  of 
America,  had  quietly  worked  as  important  educational 
influences  in  the  minds  of  the  Indians  connected  with  the 
exhibition.  They  had  seen  for  themselves  the  wonders  of 
the  world's  civilization;  they  realized  how  futile  were  the 
efforts  of  the  children  of  the  plains  to  stem  the  resistless 
tide  of  progress  flowing  westward.  Potentates  had 
delighted  to  do  honor  to  Pa-has-ka,  the  Long-haired 
Chief,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  simple  savage  he  was  as  pow- 
erful as  any  of  the  great  ones  of  earth.  To  him  his  word 
was  law;  it  seemed  worse  than  folly  for  their  brethren  to 
attempt  to  cope  with  so  mighty  a  chief,  therefore  their 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          265 

influence  was  all  for  peace ;  and  the  fact  that  so  many  tribes 
did  not  join  in  the  uprising  may  be  attributed,  in  part,  to 
their  good  counsel  and  advice. 

General  Miles  was  both  able  and  energetic,  and  man- 
aged the  campaign  in  masterly  fashion.  There  were  one 
or  two  hard-fought  battles,  in  one  of  which  the  great  Sioux 
warrior,  Sitting  Bull,  the  ablest  that  nation  ever  produced, 
was  slain.  This  Indian  had  traveled  with  Will  for  a  time, 
but  could  not  be  weaned  from  his  loyalty  to  his  own  tribe 
and  a  desire  to  avenge  upon  the  white  man  the  wrongs 
inflicted  on  his  people. 

What  promised  at  the  outset  to  be  a  long  and  cruel 
frontier  war  was  speedily  quelled.  The  death  of  Sitting 
Bull  had  something  to  do  with  the  termination  of  hostil- 
ities. Arrangements  for  peace  were  soon  perfected,  and 
Will  attributed  the  government's  success  to  the  energy  of 
its  officer  in  command,  for  whom  he  has  a  most  enthusiastic 
admiration.  He  paid  this  tribute  to  him  recently: 

"I  have  been  in  many  campaigns  with  General  Miles, 
and  a  better  general  and  more  gifted  warrior  I  have  never 
seen.  I  served  in  the  Civil  War,  and  in  any  number  of 
Indian  wars;  I  have  been  under  at  least  a  dozen  generals, 
with  whom  I  have  been  thrown  in  close  contact  because  of 
the  nature  of  the  services  which  I  was  called  upon  to  render. 
General  Miles  is  the  superior  of  them  all. 

"I  have  known  Phil  Sheridan,  Tecumseh  Sherman, 
Hancock,  and  all  of  our  noted  Indian  fighters.  For  cool 
judgment  and  thorough  knowledge  of  all  that  pertains  to 
military  affairs,  none'  of  them,  in  my  opinion,  can  be  said 
to  excel  General  Nelson  A.  Miles. 

"Ah,  what  a  man  he  is!  I  know.  We  have  been 
shoulder  to  shoulder  in  many  a  hard  march.  We  have 
been  together  when  men  find  out  what  their  comrades 


266         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

really  are.  He  is  a  man,  every  inch  of  him,  and  the  best 
general  I  ever  served  under." 

After  Miles  was  put  in  command  of  the  forces,  a  dinner 
was  given  in  his  honor  by  John  Chamberlin.  Will  was  a 
guest  and  one  of  the  speakers,  and  took  the  opportunity 
to  eulogize  his  old  friend.  He  dwelt  at  length  on  the 
respect  in  which  the  red  men  held  the  general,  and  in  clos- 
ing said : 

"No  foreign  invader  will  ever  set  foot  on  these  shores 
as  long  as  General  Miles  is  at  the  head  of  the  army.  If 
they  should — just  call  on  me!" 

The  speaker  sat  down  amid  laughter  and  applause. 

While  Will  was  away  at  the  seat  of  war,  his  beautiful 
home  in  North  Platte,  "Welcome  Wigwam,"  burned  to 
the  ground.  The  little  city  is  not  equipped  with  much  of 
a  fire  department,  but  a  volunteer  brigade  held  the  flames 
in  check  long  enough  to  save  almost  the  entire  contents  of 
the  house,  among  which  were  many  valuable  and  costly 
souvenirs  that  could  never  be  replaced. 

Will  received  a  telegram  announcing  that  his  house  was 
ablaze,  and  his  reply  was  characteristic : 

"Save  Rosa  Bonheur's  picture,  and  the  house  may  go 
to  blazes." 

When  the  frontier  war  was  ended  and  the  troops  dis- 
banded, Will  made  application  for  another  company  of 
Indians  to  take  back  to  Europe  with  him.  Permission  was 
obtained  from  the  government,  and  the  contingent  from  the 
friendly  tribes  was  headed  by  chiefs  named  Long  Wolf,  No 
Neck,  Yankton  Charlie,  and  Black  Heart.  In  addition  to 
these  a  company  was  recruited  from  among  the  Indians 
held  as  hostages  by  General  Miles  at  Fort  Sheridan,  and 
the  leaders  of  these  hostile  braves  were  such  noted  chiefs  as 
Short  Bull,  Kicking  Bear,  Lone  Bull,  Scatter,  and  Revenge. 


BUFFALO    BILL    ON    HORSEBACK. 
FROM  THE  FAMOUS  PAINTING  BY  ROSA  BONHEUR. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         267 

To  these  the  trip  to  Alsace-Lorraine  was  a  revelation,  a 
fairy-tale  more  wonderful  than  anything  in  their  legendary 
lore.  The  ocean  voyage,  with  its  seasickness,  put  them  in 
an  ugly  mood,  but  the  sight  of  the  encampment  and  the  cow- 
boys dissipated  their  sullenness,  and  they  shortly  felt  at  home. 
The  hospitality  extended  to  all  the  members  of  the  company 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  in  which  they  wintered  was 
most  cordial,  and  left  them  the  pleasantest  of  memories. 

An  extended  tour  of  Europe  was  fittingly  closed  by  a 
brief  visit  to  England.  The  Britons  gave  the  "Wild 
West"  as  hearty  a  welcome  as  if  it  were  native  to  their 
heath.  A  number  of  the  larger  cities  were  visited,  Lon- 
don being  reserved  for  the  last. 

Royalty  again  honored  the  "Wild  West"  by  its  attend- 
ance, the  Queen  requesting  a  special  performance  on  the 
grounds  of  Windsor  Castle.  The  requests  of  the  Queen 
are  equivalent  to  commands,  and  the  entertainment  was 
duly  given.  As  a  token  of  her  appreciation  the  Queen 
bestowed  upon  Will  a  costly  and  beautiful  souvenir. 

Not  the  least-esteemed  remembrance  of  this  London 
visit  was  an  illuminated  address  presented  by  the  English 
Workingman's  Convention.  In  it  the  American  plainsman 
was  congratulated  upon  the  honors  he  had  won,  the  success 
he  had  achieved,  and  the  educational  worth  of  his  great  ex- 
hibition. A  banquet  followed,  at  which  Will  presented  an 
autograph  photograph  to  each  member  of  the  association. 

Notwithstanding  tender  thoughts  of  home,  English  soil 
was  left  regretfully.  To  the  "Wild  West"  the  complacent 
Briton  had  extended  a  cordial  welcome,  and  manifested  an 
enthusiasm  that  contrasted  strangely  with  his  usual  disdain 
for  things  American. 

A  singular  coincidence  of  the  homeward  voyage  was 
the  death  of  Billy,  another  favorite  horse  of  Will's. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    "WILD    WEST"    AT   THE    WORLD'S    FAIR. 

EUROPEAN  army  officers  of  all  nationalities  regarded  my 
brother  with  admiring  interest.  To  German,  French, 
Italian,  or  British  eyes  he  was  a  commanding  personality, 
and  also  the  representative  of  a  peculiar  and  interesting 
phase  of  New  World  life.  Recalling  their  interest  in  his 
scenes  from  his  native  land,  so  unlike  anything  to  be  found 
in  Europe  to-day,  Will  invited  a  number  of  these  officers 
to  accompany  him  on  an  extended  hunting-trip  through 
Western  America. 

All  that  could  possibly  do  so  accepted  the  invitation. 
A  date  was  set  for  them  to  reach  Chicago,  and  from  there 
arrangements  were  made  for  a  special  train  to  convey  them 
to  Nebraska. 

When  the  party  gathered,  several  prominent  Americans 
were  of  the  number.  By  General  Miles's  order  a  military 
escort  attended  them  from  Chicago,  and  the  native  soldiery 
remained  with  them  until  North  Platte  was  reached. 

Then  the  party  proceeded  to  "Scout's  Rest  Ranch," 
where  they  were  hospitably  entertained  for  a  couple  of  days 
before  starting  out  on  their  long  trail. 

At  Denver  ammunition  and  supplies  were  taken  on 
board  the  train.  A  French  chef  was  also  engaged,  as  Will 
feared  his  distinguished  guests  might  not  enjoy  camp-fare. 
But  a  hen  in  water  is  no  more  out  of  place  than  a  French 
cook  on  a  "roughing-it"  trip.  Frontier  cooks,  who  under- 
stand primitive  methods,  make  no  attempt  at  a  fashionable 

268 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         269 

cuisine,  and  the  appetites  developed  by  open-air  life  are 
equal  to  the  rudest,  most  substantial  fare. 

Colorado  Springs,  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  and  other 
places  in  Colorado  were  visited.  The  foreign  visitors  had 
heard  stories  of  this  wonderland  of  America,  but,  like  all  of 
nature's  masterpieces,  the  rugged  beauties  of  this  magnifi- 
cent region  defy  an  adequate  description.  Only  one  who 
has  seen  a  sunrise  on  the  Alps  can  appreciate  it.  The 
storied  Rhine  is  naught  but  a  story  to  him  who  has  never 
looked  upon  it,  Niagara  is  only  a  waterfall  until  seen  from 
various  view-points,  and  its  tremendous  force  and  tran- 
scendent beauty  are  strikingly  revealed.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  glorious  wildness  of  our  Western  scenery;  it  must 
be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 

The  most  beautiful  thing  about  the  Garden  of  the  Gods 
is  the  entrance  known  as  the  Gateway.  Color  here  runs 
riot.  The  mass  of  rock  in  the  foreground  is  white,  and 
stands  out  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  rich  red  of  the  sandstone 
of  the  portals,  which  rise  on  either  side  to  a  height  of 
three  hundred  feet.  Through  these  giant  portals,  which 
in  the  sunlight  glow  with  ruddy  fire,  is  seen  mass  upon 
mass  of  gorgeous  color,  rendered  more  striking  by  the 
dazzling  whiteness  of  Pike's  Peak,  which  soars  upward  in 
the  distance,  a  hoary  sentinel  of  the  skies.  The  whole 
picture  is  limned  against  the  brilliant  blue  of  the  Colorado 
sky,  and  stands  out  sharp  and  clear,  one  vivid  block  of 
color  distinctly  defined  against  the  other. 

The  name  "  Garden  of  the  Gods"  was  doubtless  applied 
because  of  the  peculiar  shape  of  the  spires,  needles,  and 
basilicas  of  rock  that  rise  in  every  direction.  These  have 
been  corroded  by  storms  and  worn  smooth  by  time,  until 
they  present  the  appearance  of  half-baked  images  of  clay 
molded  by  human  hands,  instead  of  sandstone  rocks  fash- 


270          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

ioned  by  wind  and  weather.  Each  grotesque  and  fantastic 
shape  has  received  a  name.  One  is  here  introduced  to  the 
"Washerwoman,"  the  "Lady  of  the  Garden,"  the 
"Siamese  Twins, "  and  the  "Ute  God/'  and  besides  these 
may  be  seen  the  "Wreck,"  the  "Baggage  Room,"  the 
"Eagle,"  and  the  "Mushroom."  The  predominating 
tone  is  everywhere  red,  but  black,  brown,  drab,  white,  yel- 
low, buff,  and  pink  rocks  add  their  quota  to  make  up  a 
harmonious  and  striking  color  scheme,  to  which  the  gray 
and  green  of  clinging  mosses  add  a  final  touch  of  pictur- 
esqueness. 

At  Flagstaff,  Arizona,  the  train  was  discarded  for  the 
saddle  and  the  buckboard.  And  now  Will  felt  himself 
quite  in  his  element ;  it  was  a  never-failing  pleasure  to  him 
to  guide  a  large  party  of  guests  over  plain  and  mountain. 
From  long  experience  he  knew  how  to  make  ample  provi- 
sion for  their  comfort.  There  were  a  number  of  wagons 
filled  with  supplies,  three  buckboards,  three  ambulances, 
and  a  drove  of  ponies.  Those  who  wished  to  ride  horse- 
back could  do  so ;  if  they  grew  tired  of  a  bucking  bron- 
cho, opportunity  for  rest  awaited  them  in  ambulance  or 
buckboard.  The  French  chef  found  his  occupation  gone 
when  it  was  a  question  of  cooking  over  a  camp-fire;  so 
he  spent  his  time  picking  himself  up  when  dislodged  by 
his  broncho.  The  daintiness  of  his  menu  was  not  a  correct 
gauge  for  the  daintiness  of  his  language  on  these  numerous 
occasions. 

Through  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado  Will  led  the 
party,  and  the  dwellers  of  the  Old  World  beheld  some  of 
the  rugged  magnificence  of  the  New.  Across  rushing  rivers, 
through  quiet  valleys,  and  over  lofty  mountains  they  pro- 
ceeded, pausing  on  the  borders  of  peaceful  lakes,  or  look- 
ing over  dizzy  precipices  into  yawning  chasms. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.          271 

There  was  no  lack  of  game  to  furnish  variety  to  their 
table;  mountain  sheep,  mountain  lions,  wildcats,  deer, 
elk,  antelope,  and  even  coyotes  and  porcupines,  were  shot, 
while  the  rivers  furnished  an  abundance  of  fish. 

It  seemed  likely  at  one  time  that  there  might  be  a  hunt 
of  bigger  game  than  any  here  mentioned,  for  in  crossing 
the  country  of  the  Navajos  the  party  was  watched  and 
followed  by  mounted  Indians.  An  attack  was  feared,  and 
had  the  red  men  opened  fire,  there  would  have  been  a  very 
animated  defense;  but  the  suspicious  Indians  were  merely 
on  the  alert  to  see  that  no  trespass  was  committed,  and 
when  the  orderly  company  passed  out  of  their  territory  the 
warriors  disappeared. 

The  visitors  were  much  impressed  with  the  vastness  and 
the  undeveloped  resources  of  our  country.  They  were  also 
impressed  with  the  climate,  as  the  thermometer  went  down 
to  forty  degrees  below  zero  while  they  were  on  Buckskin 
Mountain.  Nature  seemed  to  wish  to  aid  Will  in  the  effort 
to  exhibit  novelties  to  his  foreign  guests,  for  she  tried  her 
hand  at  some  spectacular  effects,  and  succeeded  beyond 
mortal  expectation.  She  treated  them  to  a  few  blizzards; 
and  shut  in  by  the  mass  of  whirling,  blinding  snowflakes, 
it  is  possible  their  thoughts  reverted  with  a  homesick  long- 
ing to  the  sunny  slopes  of  France,  the  placid  vales  of  Ger- 
many, or  the  foggy  mildness  of  Great  Britain. 

On  the  summit  of  San  Francisco  Mountain,  the  horse 
of  Major  St.  John  Mildmay  lost  its  footing,  and  began  to  slip 
on  the  ice  toward  a  precipice  which  looked  down  a  couple  of 
thousand  feet.  Will  saw  the  danger,  brought  out  his  ever- 
ready  lasso,  and  dexterously  caught  the  animal  in  time  to 
save  it  and  its  rider — a  feat  considered  remarkable  by  the 
onlookers. 

Accidents    happened    occasionally,     many    adventures 


^72         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

were  met  with,  Indian  alarms  were  given,  and  narrow  were 
some  of  the  escapes.  On  the  whole,  it  was  a  remarkable 
trail,  and  was  written  about  under  the  heading,  "A  Thou- 
sand Miles  in  the  Saddle  with  Buffalo  Bill." 

At  Salt  Lake  City  the  party  broke  up,  each  going  his 
separate  way.  All  expressed  great  pleasure  in  the  trip, 
and  united  in  the  opinion  that  Buffalo  Bill's  reputation  as 
guide  and  scout  was  a  well-deserved  one. 

Will's  knowledge  of  Indian  nature  stands  him  in  good 
stead  when  he  desires  to  select  the  quota  of  Indians  for  the 
summer  season  of  the  "Wild  West."  He  sends  word  ahead 
to  the  tribe  or  reservation  which  he  intends  to  visit.  The 
red  men  have  all  heard  of  the  wonders  of  the  great  show ; 
they  are  more  than  ready  to  share  in  the  delights  of  travel, 
and  they  gather  at  the  appointed  place  in  great  numbers. 

Will  stands  on  a  temporary  platform  in  the  center  of 
the  group.  He  looks  around  upon  the  swarthy  faces, 
glowing  with  all  the  eagerness  which  the  stolid  Indian 
nature  will  permit  them  to  display.  It  is  not  always  the 
tallest  nor  the  most  comely  men  who  are  selected.  The 
unerring  judgment  of  the  scout,  trained  in  Indian  warfare, 
tells  him  who  may  be  relied  upon  and  who  are  untrust- 
worthy. A  face  arrests  his  attention — with  a  motion  of 
his  hand  he  indicates  the  brave  whom  he  has  selected; 
another  wave  of  the  hand  and  the  fate  of  a  second  warrior 
is  settled.  Hardly  a  word  is  spoken,  and  it  is  only  a  mat- 
ter of  a  few  moments'  time  before  he  is  ready  to  step  down 
from  his  exalted  position  and  walk  off  with  his  full  contin- 
gent of  warriors  following  happily  in  his  wake. 

The  "Wild  West"  had  already  engaged  space  just  out- 
side the  World's  Fair  grounds  for  an  exhibit  in  1893,  and 
Will  was  desirous  of  introducing  some  new  and  striking 
feature.  He  had  succeeded  in  presenting  to  the  people  of 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         273 

Europe  some  new  ideas,  and,  in  return,  the  European  trip 
had  furnished  to  him  the  much-desired  novelty.  He  had 
performed  the  work  of  an  educator  in  showing  to  Old 
World  residents  the  conditions  of  a  new  civilization,  and 
the  idea  was  now  conceived  of  showing  to  the  world  gath- 
ered at  the  arena  in  Chicago  a  representation  of  the  cosmo- 
politan military  force.  He  called  it  "A  Congress  of  the 
Rough  Riders  of  the  World."  It  is  a  combination  at  once 
ethnological  and  military. 

To  the  Indians  and  cowboys  were  added  Mexicans, 
Cossacks,  and  South  Americans,  with  regular  trained  cav- 
alry from  Germany,  France,  England,  and  the  United 
States.  This  aggregation  showed  for  the  first  time  in 
1893,  and  was  an  instantaneous  success.  Of  it  Opie  Read 
gives  a  fine  description : 

"  Morse  made  the  two  worlds  touch  the  tips  of  their  fingers  together. 
Cody  has  made  the  warriors  of  all  nations  join  hands. 

"  In  one  act  we  see  the  Indian,  with  his  origin  shrouded  in  history's 
mysterious  fog;  the  cowboy — -nerve-strung  product  of  the  New  World; 
the  American  soldier,  the  dark  Mexican,  the  glittering  soldier  of  Ger- 
many, the  dashing  cavalryman  of  France,  the  impulsive  Irish  dragoon, 
and  that  strange,  swift  spirit  from  the  plains  of  Russia,  the  Cossack. 

"  Marvelous  theatric  display,  a  drama  with  scarcely  a  word — 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America  in  panoramic  whirl,  and  yet  as  indi- 
vidualized as  if  they  had  never  left  their  own  country." 

In  1893  the  horizon  of  my  brother's  interests  enlarged. 
In  July  of  that  year  I  was  married  to  Mr.  Hugh  A. 
Wetmore,  editor  of  the  Duluth  Press.  My  steps  now 
turned  to  the  North,  and  the  enterprising  young  city  on  the 
shore  of  Lake  Superior  became  my  home.  During  the 
long  years  of  my  widowhood  my  brother  always  bore  toward 
me  the  attitude  of  guardian  and  protector;  I  could  rely 
upon  his  support  in  any  venture  I  deemed  a  promising  one, 
and  his  considerate  thoughtfulness  did  not  fail  when  I 


274         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

remarried.  He  wished  to  see  me-  well  established  in  my 
new  home;  he  desired  to  insure  my  happiness  and  pros- 
perity, and  with  this  end  in  view  he  purchased  the  Duluth 
Press  plant,  erected  a  fine  brick  building  to  serve  as  head- 
quarters for  the  newspaper  venture,  and  we  became  busi- 
ness partners  in  the  untried  field  of  press  work. 

My  brother  had  not  yet  seen  the  Zenith  City.  So  in 
January  of  1894  he  arranged  to  make  a  short  visit  to 
Duluth.  We  issued  invitations  for  a  general  reception, 
and  the  response  was  of  the  genuine  Western  kind — 
eighteen  hundred  guests  assembling  in  the  new  Duluth 
Press  Building  to  bid  welcome  and  do  honor  to  the  world- 
famed  Buffalo  Bill. 

His  name  is  a  household  word,  and  there  is  a  growing 
demand  for  anecdotes  concerning  him.  As  he  does  not 
like  to  talk  about  himself,  chroniclers  have  been  compelled 
to  interview  his  associates,  or  are  left  to  their  own  resources. 
Like  many  of  the  stories  told  about  Abraham  Lincoln, 
some  of  the  current  yarns  about  Buffalo  Bill  are  of  doubt- 
ful authority.  Nevertheless,  a  collection  of  those  that  are 
authentic  would  fill  a  volume.  Almost  every  plainsman 
or  soldier  who  met  my  brother  during  the  Indian  campaigns 
can  tell  some  interesting  tale  about  him  that  has  never 
been  printed.  During  the  youthful  season  of  redundant 
hope  and  happiness  many  of  his  ebullitions  of  wit  were  lost, 
but  he  was  always  beloved  for  his  good  humor,  which  no 
amount  of  carnage  could  suppress.  He  was  not  averse  to 
church-going,  though  he  was  liable  even  in  church  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  rollicking  spirit  that  was  in  him. 
Instance  his  visit  to  the  little  temple  which  he  had  helped 
to  build  at  North  Platte. 

His' wife  and  sister  were  in  the  congregation,  and  this 
ought  not  only  to  have  kept  him  awake,  but  it  should  have 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         275 

insured  perfect  decorum  on  his  part.  The  opening  hymn 
commenced  with  the  words,  "Oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues 
to  sing,"  etc.  The  organist,  who  played  "by  ear,"  started 
the  tune  in  too  high  a  key  to  be  followed  by  the  choir  and 
congregation,  and  had  to  try  again.  A  second  attempt 
ended,  like  the  first,  in  failure.  "Oh,  for  a  thousand 
tongues  to  sing,  my  blest — "  came  the  opening  words  for 
the  third  time,  followed  by  a  squeak  from  the  organ,  and  a 
relapse  into  painful  silence.  Will  could  contain  himself  no 
longer,  and  blurted  out:  "Start  it  at  five  hundred,  and 
mebbe  some  of  the  rest  of  us  can  get  in." 

Another  church  episode  occurred  during  the  visit  of 
the  "Wild  West"  to  the  Atlanta  Exposition.  A  locally 
celebrated  colored  preacher  had  announced  that  he  would 
deliver  a  sermon  on  the  subject  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  A 
party  of  white  people,  including  my  brother,  was  made  up, 
and  repaired  to  the  church  to  listen  to  the  eloquent 
address.  Not  wishing  to  make  themselves  conspicuous, 
the  white  visitors  took  a  pew  in  the  extreme  rear,  but  one 
of  the  ushers,  wishing  to  honor  them,  insisted  on  conduct- 
ing them  to  a  front  seat.  When  the  contribution  platter 
came  around,  our  hero  scooped  a  lot  of  silver  dollars  from 
his  pocket  and  deposited  them  upon  the  plate  with  such 
force  that  the  receptacle  was  tilted  and  its  contents  poured 
in  a  jingling  shower  upon  the  floor.  The  preacher  left  his 
pulpit  to  assist  in  gathering  up  the  scattered  treasure, 
requesting  the  congregation  to  sing  a  hymn  of  thanksgiv- 
ing while  the  task  was  being  performed.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  hymn  the  sable  divine  returned  to  the  pulpit  and 
supplemented  his  sermon  with  the  following  remarks: 

"  Brudderen  an'  sisters:  I  obsahve  dat  Co'nel  and  Gen'l  Buflo  B\ll  am 
present.  [A  roar  of  "Amens"  and  "Bless  God's"  arose  from  the  audience.] 
You  will  wifhold  yuh  Amens  till  I  git  froo.  You  all  owes  yuh  freedom  to 


276         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

Abraham's  bosom,  but  he  couldn't  hab  went  an'  gone  an'  done  it  widout 
Buflo  Bill,  who  he'ped  him  wid  de  sinnoose  ob  wah  !  Abraham  Lincum 
was  de  brack  man's  fren' — Buflo  Bill  am  de  fren*  ob  us  all.  ["Amen!" 
screamed  a  sister.]  Yes,  sistah,  he  am  yo'  fren',  moreova,  an'  de  fren' 
ob  every  daughtah  ob  Jakup  likewise.  De  chu'ch  debt  am  a  cross  to  us, 
an'  to  dat  cross  he  bends  his  back  as  was  prefigu'd  in  de  scriptu's  ob  ol'. 
De  sun  may  move,  aw  de  sun  mought  stan*  still,  but  Buflo  Bill  nebba 
Stan's  still — he's  ma'ching  froo  Geo'gia  wid  his  Christian  cowboys  to 
sto'm  de  Lookout  Mountain  ob  Zion.  Deacon  Green  Henry  Turner  will 
lead  us  in  prayah  fo'  Buflo  Bill." 


The  following  is  one  of  Will's  own  stories:  During  the 
first  years  of  his  career  as  an  actor  Will  had  in  one  of  his 
theatrical  companies  a  Westerner  named  Broncho  Bill. 
There  were  Indians  in  the  troupe,  and  a  certain  missionary 
had  joined  the  aggregation  to  look  after  the  morals  of  the 
Indians.  Thinking  that  Broncho  Bill  would  bear  a  little 
looking  after  also,  the  good  man  secured  a  seat  by  his  side 
at  the  dinner-table,  and  remarked  pleasantly: 

"This  is  Mr.  Broncho  Bill,  is  it  not?" 

"Yaas." 

"Where  were  you  born?" 

"Near  Kit  Dullard's  mill,  on  Big  Pigeon." 

"Religious  parents,  I  suppose?" 

"Yaas." 

"What  is  your  denomination?" 

"My  what?" 

"Your  denomination?" 

"O— ah— yaas.     Smith  &  Wesson." 

While  on  his  European  tour  Will  was  entertained  by  a 
great  many  potentates.  At  a  certain  dinner  given  in  his 
honor  by  a  wealthy  English  lord,  Will  met  for  the  first 
time  socially  a  number  of  blustering  British  officers,  fresh 
from  India.  One  of  them  addressed  himself  to  the  scout 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         277 

as  follows:  "I  understand  you  are  a  colonel.  You  Amer- 
icans are  blawsted  fond  of  military  titles,  don't  cherneow. 
By  gad,  sir,  we'll  have  to  come  over  and  give  you  fellows 
a  good  licking!" 

"What,  again?"  said  the  scout,  so  meekly  that  for  an 
instant  his  assailant  did  not  know  how  hard  he  was  hit,  but 
he  realized  it  when  the  retort  was  wildly  applauded  by  the 
company. 

Before  closing  these  pages  I  will  give  an  account  of  an 
episode  which  occurred  during  the  Black  Hills  gold  excite- 
ment, and  which  illustrates  the  faculty  my  hero  possesses 
of  adapting  himself  to  all  emergencies.  Mr.  Mahan,  of 
West  Superior,  Wisconsin,  and  a  party  of  adventurous 
gold-seekers  were  being  chased  by  a  band  of  Indians,  which 
they  had  succeeded  in  temporarily  eluding.  They  met 
Buffalo  Bill  at  the  head  of  a  squad  of  soldiers  who  were 
looking  for  redskins.  The  situation  was  explained  to  the 
scout,  whereupon  he  said : 

"  I  am  looking  for  that  identical  crowd.  Now,  you  draw 
up  in  line,  and  I  will  look  you  over  and  pick  out  the  men 
that  I  want  to  go  back  with  me." 

Without  any  questioning  he  was  able  to  select  the  men 
who  really  wanted  to  return  and  fight  the  Indians.  He 
left  but  two  behind,  but  they  were  the  ones  who  would 
have  been  of  no  assistance  had  they  been  allowed  to  go  to 
the  front.  Will  rode  some  distance  in  advance  of  his  party, 
and  when  the  Indians  sighted  him,  they  thought  he  was 
alone,  and  made  a  dash  for  him.  Will  whirled  about  and 
made  his  horse  go  as  if  fleeing  for  his  life.  His  men  had 
been  carefully  ambushed.  The  Indians  kept  up  a  constant 
firing,  and  when  he  reached  a  certain  point  Will  pretended 
to  be  hit,  and  fell  from  his  horse.  On  came  the  Indians, 


278         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

howling  like  a  choir  of  maniacs.  The  next  moment  they 
were  in  a  trap,  and  Will  and  his  men  opened  fire  on  them, 
literally  annihilating  the  entire  squad.  It  was  the  Indian 
style  of  warfare,  and  the  ten  "good  Indians"  left  upon 
the  field,  had  they  been  able  to  complain,  would  have  had 
no  right  to  do  so. 

Will  continued  the  march,  and  as  the  day  was  well 
advanced,  began  looking  for  a  good  place  to  camp.  Arriv- 
ing at  the  top  of  a  ridge  overlooking  a  little  river,  Will  saw 
a  spot  where  he  had  camped  on  a  previous  expedition;  but, 
to  his  great  disappointment,  the  place  was  in  possession  of 
a  large  village  of  hostiles,  who  were  putting  up  their  tepees, 
building  camp  fires,  and  making  themselves  comfortable  for 
the  coming  night. 

Quick  as  a  flash  Will  decided  what  to  do.  "There  are 
too  many  of  them  for  us  to  whip  in  the  tired  condition  of 
ourselves  and  horses,"  said  our  hero.  Then  he  posted  his 
men  along  the  top  of  the  ridge,  with  instructions  to  show 
themselves  at  a  signal  from  him,  and  descended  at  once, 
solitary  and  alone,  to  the  encampment  of  hostiles.  Gliding 
rapidly  up  to  the  chief,  Will  addressed  him  in  his  own 
dialect  as  follows: 

"I  want  you  to  leave  here  right  away,  quick!  I  don't 
want  to  kill  your  women  and  children.  A  big  lot  of  sol- 
diers are  following  me,  and  they  will  destroy  your  whole 
village  if  you  are  here  when  they  come." 

As  he  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  hilltop, 
brass  buttons  and  polished  gun-barrels  began  to  glitter  in 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  chief  ordered  his  braves 
to  fold  their  tents  and  move  on. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

CODY    DAY   AT    THE    OMAHA   EXPOSITION. 

SINCE  1893  the  "Wild  West"  exhibitions  have  been 
restricted  to  the  various  cities  of  our  own  land.  Life  in 
"Buffalo  Bill's  Tented  City,"  as  it  is  called,  is  like  life  in 
a  small  village.  There  are  some  six  hundred  persons  in  the 
various  departments.  Many  of  the  men  have  their  families 
with  them ;  the  Indians  have  their  squaws  and  papooses, 
and  the  variety  of  nationalities,  dialects,  and  costumes 
makes  the  miniature  city  an  interesting  and  entertaining 
one. 

The  Indians  may  be  seen  eating  bundles  of  meat  from 
their  fingers  and  drinking  tankards  of  iced  buttermilk. 
The  Mexicans,  a  shade  more  civilized,  shovel  with  their 
knives  great  quantities  of  the  same  food  into  the  capacious 
receptacles  provided  by  nature.  The  Americans,  despite 
what  is  said  of  their  rapid  eating,  take  time  to  laugh  and 
crack  jokes,  and  finish  their  repast  with  a  product  only 
known  to  the  highest  civilization — ice-cream. 

When  the  "Wild  West"  visited  Boston,  one  hot  June 
day  the  parade  passed  a  children's  hospital  on  the  way  to 
the  show-grounds.  Many  of  the  little  invalids  were  unable 
to  leave  their  couches.  All  who  could  do  so  ran  to  the 
open  windows  and  gazed  eagerly  at  the  passing  procession, 
and  the  greatest  excitement  prevailed.  These  more  for- 
tunate little  ones  described,  as  best  they  could,  to  the  little 
sufferers  who  could  not  leave  their  beds  the  wonderful 
things  they  saw.  The  Indians  were  the  special  admiration 

279 


280          LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

of  the  children.  After  the  procession  passed,  one  wee  lad, 
bedridden  by  spinal  trouble,  cried  bitterly  because  he  had 
not  seen  it.  A  kind-hearted  nurse  endeavored  to  soothe 
the  child,  but  words  proved  unavailing.  Then  a  bright 
idea  struck  the  patient  woman ;  she  told  him  he  might 
write  a  letter  to  the  great  " Buffalo  Bill"  himself  and  ask 
him  for  an  Indian's  picture. 

The  idea  was  taken  up  with  delight,  and  the  child  spent 
an  eager  hour  in  penning  the  letter.  It  was  pathetic  in 
its  simplicity.  The  little  sufferer  told  the  great  exhibitor 
that  he  was  sick  in  bed,  was  unable  to  see  the  Indians  when 
they  passed  the  hospital,  and  that  he  longed  to  see  a 
photograph  of  one. 

The  important  missive  was  mailed,  and  even  the  impa- 
tient little  invalid  knew  it  was  useless  to  expect  an  answer 
that  day.  The  morning  had  hardly  dawned  before  a  child's 
bright  eyes  were  open.  Every  noise  was  listened  to,  and 
he  wondered  when  the  postman  would  bring  him  a  letter. 
The  nurse  hardly  dared  to  hope  that  a  busy  man  like 
Buffalo  Bill  would  take  time  to  respond  to  the  wish  of  a 
sick  child. 

"Colonel  Cody  is  a  very  busy  man,"  she  said.  "We 
must  be  patient." 

At  perhaps  the  twentieth  repetition  of  this  remark  the 
door  opened  noiselessly.  In  came  a  six-foot  Indian,  clad 
in  leather  trousers  and  wrapped  in  a  scarlet  blanket.  He 
wore  a  head-dress  of  tall,  waving  feathers,  and  carried  his 
bow  in  his  hand. 

The  little  invalids  gasped  in  wonder;  then  they  shrieked 
with  delight.  One  by  one,  silent  and  noiseless,  but  smil- 
ing, six  splendid  warriors  followed  the  first.  The  visitors 
had  evidently  been  well  trained,  and  had  received  explicit 
directions  as  to  their  actions. 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         281 

So  unusual  a  sight  in  the  orderly  hospital  so  startled  the 
nurse  that  she  could  not  even  speak.  The  warriors  drew 
up  in  a  line  and  saluted  her.  The  happy  children  were 
shouting  in  such  glee  that  the  poor  woman's  fright  was 
unnoticed. 

The  Indians  ranged  themselves  in  the  narrow  space 
between  the  cots,  laid  aside  their  gay  blankets,  placed  their 
bows  upon  the  floor,  and  waving  their  arms  to  and  fro, 
executed  a  quiet  war-dance.  A  sham  battle  was  fought, 
followed  by  a  song  of  victory.  After  this  the  blankets  were 
again  donned,  the  kindly  red  men  went  away,  still  smiling 
as  benignly  as  their  war  paint  would  allow  them  to  do.  A 
cheer  of  gratitude  and  delight  followed  them  down  the 
broad  corridors.  The  happy  children  talked  about  Buffalo 
Bill  and  the  "Wild  West"  for  weeks  after  this  visit. 

North  Platte  had  long  urged  my  brother  to  bring  the 
exhibition  there.  The  citizens  wished  to  see  the  mam- 
moth tents  spread  over  the  ground  where  the  scout  once 
followed  the  trail  on  the  actual  war-path ;  they  desired  that 
their  famous  fellow-citizen  should  thus  honor  his  home 
town.  A  performance  was  finally  given  there  on  October 
12,  1896,  the  special  car  bearing  Will  and  his  party  arriv- 
ing the  preceding  day,  Sunday.  The  writer  of  these 
chronicles  joined  the  party  in  Omaha,  and  we  left  that  city 
after  the  Saturday  night  performance. 

The  Union  Pacific  Railroad  had  offered  my  brother 
every  inducement  to  make  this  trip ;  among  other  things, 
the  officials  promised  to  make  special  time  in  running  from 
Omaha  to  North  Platte. 

When  we  awoke  Sunday  morning,  we  found  that  in 
some  way  the  train  had  been  delayed,  that  instead  of  mak- 
ing special  time  we  were  several  hours  late.  Will  tele- 
graphed this  fact  to  the  officials.  At  the  next  station 


282         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

double-headers  were  put  on,  and  the  gain  became  at  once 
perceptible.  At  Grand  Island  a  congratulatory  telegram 
was  sent,  noting  the  gain  in  time.  At  the  next  station  we 
passed  the  Lightning  Express,  the  " flyer/'  to  which  usually 
everything  gives  way,  and  the  good  faith  of  the  company 
was  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  this  train  was  side-tracked 
to  make  way  for  Buffalo  Bill's  "Wild  West"  train. 
Another  message  was  sent  over  the  wires  to  the  officials; 
it  read  as  follows: 

"  Have  just  noticed  that  Lightning  Express  is  side-tracked  to  make 
way  for  Wild  West.  I  herewith  promote  you  to  top  seat  in  heaven." 

The  trip  was  a  continued  ovation.  Every  station  was 
thronged,  and  Will  was  obliged  to  step  out  on  the  platform 
and  make  a  bow  to  the  assembled  crowds,  his  appearance 
being  invariably  greeted  with  a  round  of  cheers.  When 
we  reached  the  station  at  North  Platte,  we  found  that  the 
entire  population  had  turned  out  to  receive  their  fellow- 
townsman.  The  "Cody "Guards,''  a  band  to  which  Will 
presented  beautiful  uniforms  of  white  broadcloth  trimmed 
with  gold  braid,  struck  up  the  strains  of  "See,  the  Con- 
quering Hero  Comes."  The  mayor  attempted  to  do  the 
welcoming  honors  of  the  city,  but  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  make  himself  heard.  Cheer  followed  cheer  from  the 
enthusiastic  crowd. 

We  had  expected  to  reach  the  place  some  hours  earlier, 
but  our  late  arrival  encroached  upon  the  hour  of  church 
service.  The  ministers  discovered  that  it  was  impossible  to 
hold  their  congregations;  so  they  were  dismissed,  and  the 
pastors  accompanied  them  to  the  station,  one  reverend 
gentleman  humorously  remarking: 

"We  shall  be  obliged  to  take  for  our  text  this  morning 
'Buffalo  Bill  and  his  Wild  West,'  and  will  now  proceed  to 
the  station  for  the  discourse." 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         283 

Will's  tally-ho  coach,  drawn  by  six  horses,  was  in  wait- 
ing for  the  incoming  party.  The  members  of  his  family 
seated  themselves  in  that  conveyance,  and  we  passed 
through  the  town,  preceded  and  followed  by  a  band.  As 
we  arrived  at  the  home  residence,  both  bands  united  in  a 
welcoming  strain  of  martial  music. 

My  oldest  sister,  Julia,  whose  husband  is  manager  of 
"Scout's  Rest  Ranch,"  when  informed  that  the  "Wild 
West"  was  to  visit  North  Platte,  conceived  the  idea  of 
making  this  visit  the  occasion  of  a  family  reunion.  We 
had  never  met  in  an  unbroken  circle  since  the  days  of  our 
first  separation,  but  as  a  result  of  her  efforts  we  sat  thus 
that  evening  in  my  brother's  home.  The  next  day  our 
mother-sister,  as  she  had  always  been  regarded,  entertained 
us  at  "Scout's  Rest  Ranch." 

The  "Wild  West"  exhibition  had  visited  Duluth  for 
the  first  time  that  same  year.  This  city  has  a  population 
of  65,000.  North  Platte  numbers  3,500.  When  he  wrote 
to  me  of  his  intention  to  take  the  exhibition  to  Duluth, 
Will  offered  to  make  a  wager  that  his  own  little  town  would 
furnish  a  bigger  crowd  than  would  the  city  of  my  residence. 
I  could  not  accept  any  such  inferred  slur  upon  the  Zenith 
City,  so  accepted  the  wager,  a  silk  hat  against  a  fur 
cloak. 

October  I2th,  the  date  of  the  North  Platte  performance, 
dawned  bright  and  cloudless.  "To-day  decides  our 
wager,"  said  Will.  "I  expect  there  will  be  two  or  three 
dozen  people  out  on  this  prairie.  Duluth  turned  out  a 
good  many  thousands^  so  I  suppose  you  think  your  wager 
as  good  as  won." 

The  manager  of  the  tents  evidently  thought  the  outlook 
a  forlorn  one.  I  shared  his  opinion,  and  was,  in  fancy, 
already  the  possessor  of  a  fine  fur  cloak. 


284         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

"Colonel,  shall  we  stretch  the  full  canvas?"  asked  the 
tentman. 

"Every  inch  of  it,"  was  the  prompt  response.  "We 
want  to  show  North  Platte  the  capacity  of  the  'Wild 
West,'  at  any  rate." 

As  we  started  for  the  grounds  Will  was  evidently  uncer- 
tain over  the  outcome,  in  spite  of  his  previous  boast  of  the 
reception  North  Platte  would  give  him.  "We'll  have  a 
big  tent  and  plenty  of  room  to  spare  in  it,"  he  observed. 

But  as  we  drove  to  the  grounds  we  soon  began  to  see 
indications  of  a  coming  crowd.  The  people  were  pouring 
in  from  all  directions;  the  very  atmosphere  seemed  popu- 
lated ;  as  the  dust  was  nearly  a  foot  deep  on  the  roads,  the 
moving  populace  made  the  air  almost  too  thick  for  breath- 
ing. It  was  during  the  time  of  the  county  fair,  and  man- 
agers of  the  Union  Pacific  road  announced  that  excursion 
trains  would  be  run  from  every  town  and  hamlet,  the 
officials  and  their  families  coming  up  from  Omaha  on  a 
special  car.  Where  the  crowds  came  from  it  was  impossible 
to  say.  It  looked  as  if  a  feat  of  magic  had  been  per- 
formed, and  that  the  stones  were  turned  into  men,  or,  per- 
chance, that,  as  in  olden  tales,  they  came  up  out  of  the  earth. 

Accustomed  though  he  is  to  the  success  of  the  show, 
Will  was  dumfounded  by  this  attendance.  As  the  crowds 
poured  in  I  became  alarmed  about  my  wager.  I  visited 
the  ticket-seller  and  asked  how  the  matter  stood. 

"It's  pretty  close,"  he  answered.  "Duluth  seems  to 
be  dwindling  away  before  the  mightiness  of  the  Great 
American  Desert." 

This  section  of  the  country,  which  was  a  wilderness 
only  a  few  years  ago,  assembled  over  ten  thousand  people 
to  attend  a  performance  of  the  "Wild  West." 

Omaha,  where  the  opening  performance  of  this  exhibi- 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         285 

tion  was  given,  honored  Will  last  year  by  setting  apart  one 
day  as  "Cody  Day."  August  3 1st  was  devoted  to  his 
reception,  and  a  large  and  enthusiastic  crowd  gathered  to 
do  the  Nebraska  pioneer  honor.  The  parade  reached  the 
fair-grounds  at  eleven  o'clock,  where  it  was  fittingly  received 
by  one  hundred  and  fifty  mounted  Indians  from  the 
encampment.  A  large  square  space  had  been  reserved  for 
the  reception  of  the  party  in  front  of  the  Sherman  gate. 
As  it  filed  through,  great  applause  was  sent  up  by  the  wait- 
ing multitude,  and  the  noise  became  deafening  when  my 
brother  made  his  appearance  on  a  magnificent  chestnut 
horse,  the  gift  of  General  Miles.  He  was  accompanied 
by  a  large  party  of  officials  and  Nebraska  pioneers,  who 
dismounted  to  seat  themselves  on  the  grand-stand.  Prom- 
inent among  these  were  the  governor  of  the  state,  Senator 
Thurston,  and  Will's  old  friend  and  first  employer,  Mr. 
Alexander  Majors.  As  Will  ascended  the  platform  he  was 
met  by  General  Manager  Clarkson,  who  welcomed  him  in 
the  name  of  the  president  of  the  exposition,  whose  official 
duties  precluded  his  presence.  Governor  Holcomb  was 
then  introduced,  and  his  speech  was  a  brief  review  of  the 
evolution  of  Nebraska  from  a  wilderness  of  a  generation 
ago  to  the  great  state  which  produced  this  marvelous  expo- 
sition. Manager  Clarkson  remarked,  as  he  introduced  Mr. 
Majors:  "Here  is  the  father  of  them  all,  Alexander  Majors, 
a  man  connected  with  the  very  earliest  history  of  Nebraska, 
and  the  business  father  of  Colonel  Cody." 

This  old  pioneer  was  accorded  a  reception  only  a  shade 
less  enthusiastic  than  that  which  greeted  the  hero  of  the 
day.  He  said: 

"  Gentlemen,  and  My  Boy,  Colonel  Cody  :  [Laughter.]  Can  I  say  a 
few  words  of  welcome  ?  Friend  Creighton  and  I  came  down  here  together 
to-day,  and  he  thought  I  was  not  equal  to  the  occasion.  Gentlemen,  I  do 


286         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

not  know  whether  I  am  equal  to  the  occasion  at  this  time,  but  I  am  going 
to  do  the  best  for  you  that  I  can.  Give  me  your  hand,  Colonel.  Gentle- 
men, forty-three  years  ago  this  day,  this  fine-looking  physical  specimen 
of  manhood  was  brought  to  me  by  his  mother — a  little  boy  nine  years 
old — and  little  did  I  think  at  that  time  that  the  boy  that  was  standing 
before  me,  asking  for  employment  of  some  kind  by  which  I  could  afford 
to  pay  his  mother  a  little  money  for  his  services,  was  going  to  be  a  boy 
of  such  destiny  as  he  has  turned  out  to  be.  In  this  country  we  have 
great  men,  we  have  great  men  in  Washington,  we  have  men  who  are 
famous  as  politicians  in  this  country;  we  have  great  statesmen,  we  have 
had  Jackson  and  Grant,  and  we  had  Lincoln;  we  have  men  great  in 
agriculture  and  in  stock-growing,  and  in  the  manufacturing  business  men 
who  have  made  great  names  for  themselves,  who  have  stood  high  in  the 
nation.  Next,  and  even  greater,  we  have  a  Cody.  He,  gentlemen,  stands 
before  you  now,  known  the  wide  world  over  as  the  last  of  the  great 
scouts.  When  the  boy  Cody  came  to  me,  standing  straight  as  an  arrow, 
and  looked  me  in  the  face,  I  said  to  my  partner,  Mr.  Russell,  who  was 
standing  by  my  side, '  We  will  take  this  little  boy,  and  we  will  pay  him  a 
man's  wages,  because  he  can  ride  a  pony  just  as  well  as  a  man  can.'  He 
was  lighter  and  could  do  service  of  that  kind  when  he  was  nine  years 
old.  I  remember  when  we  paid  him  twenty-five  dollars  for  the  first 
month's  work.  He  was  paid  in  half-dollars,  and  he  got  fifty  of  them. 
He  tied  them  up  in  his  little  handkerchief,  and  when  he  got  home  he 
untied  the  handkerchief  and  spread  the  money  all  over  the  table." 

Colonel  Cody — "I  have  been  spreading  it  ever  since." 
A  few  remarks  followed  indicative  of  Mr.  Majors's  appre- 
ciation of  the  exhibition,  and  he  closed  with  the  remark, 
"Bless  your  precious  heart,  Colonel  Cody!"  and  sat  down, 
amid  great  applause. 

Senator  Thurston's  remarks  were  equally  happy.  He 
said: 

"Colonel  Cody,  this  is  your  day.  This  is  your  exposition.  This  is 
your  city.  And  we  all  rejoice  that  Nebraska  is  your  state.  You  have 
carried  the  fame  of  our  country  and  of  our  state  all  over  the  civilized 
world;  you  have  been  received  and  honored  by  princes,  by  emperors, 
and  by  kings;  the  titled  women  in  the  courts  of  the  nations  of  the  world 
have  been  captivated  by  your  charm  of  manner  and  your  splendid  man- 
hood. You  are  known  wherever  you  go,  abroad  or  in  the  United  States, 
as  Colonel  Cody,  the  best  representative  of  the  great  and  progressive 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         287 

West.  You  stand  here  to-day  in  the  midst  of  a  wonderful  assembly. 
Here  are  representatives  of  the  heroic  and  daring  characters  of  most  of 
the  nations  of  the  world.  You  are  entitled  to  the  honor  paid  you  to-day, 
and  especially  entitled  to  it  here.  This  people  know  you  as  a  man  who 
has  carried  this  demonstration  of  yours  to  foreign  lands,  and  exhibited 
it  at  home.  You  have  not  been  a  showman  in  the  common  sense  of  the 
word.  You  have  been  a  great  national  and  international  educator  of 
men.  You  have  furnished  a  demonstration  of  the  possibilities  of  our 
country  that  has  advanced  us  in  the  opinion  of  all  the  world.  But  we 
who  have  been  with  you  a  third,  or  more  than  a  third,  of  a  century,  we 
remember  you  more  dearly  and  tenderly  than  others  do.  We  remember 
that  when  this  whole  Western  land  was  a  wilderness,  when  these  repre- 
sentatives of  the  aborigines  were  attempting  to  hold  their  own  against 
the  onward  tide  of  civilization,  the  settler  and  the  hardy  pioneer,  the 
women  and  the  children,  felt  safe  whenever  Cody  rode  along  the  frontier; 
he  was  their  protector  and  defender. 

"  Cody,  this  is  your  home.  You  live  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of 
our  state.  God  bless  you  and  keep  you  and  prosper  you  in  your  splen- 
did work." 

Will  was  deeply  touched  by  these  strong  expressions 
from  his  friends.  As  he  moved  to  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form to  respond,  his  appearance  was  the  signal  for  a  pro- 
longed burst  of  cheers.  He  said: 

"  You  cannot  expect  me  to  make  adequate  response  for  the  honor 
which  you  have  bestowed  upon  me  to-day.  You  have  overwhelmed  my 
speaking  faculties.  I  cannot  corral  enough  ideas  to  attempt  a  coherent 
reply  in  response  to  the  honor  which  you  have  accorded  me.  How  little 
I  dreamed  in  the  long  ago  that  the  lonely  path  of  the  scout  and  the  pony- 
express  rider  would  lead  me  to  the  place  you  have  assigned  me  to-day. 
Here,  near  the  banks  of  the  mighty  Missouri,  which  flows  unvexed  to 
the  sea,  my  thoughts  revert  to  the  early  days  of  my  manhood.  I  looked 
eastward  across  this  rushing  tide  to  the  Atlantic,  and  dreamed  that  in 
that  long-settled  region  all  men  were  rich  and  all  women  happy.  My 
friends,  that  day  has  come  and  gone.  I  stand  among  you  a  witness 
that  nowhere  in  the  broad  universe  are  men  richer  in  manly  integrity, 
and  women  happier  in  their  domestic  kingdom,  than  here  in  our  own 
Nebraska. 

"  I  have  sought  fortune  in  many  lands,  but  wherever  I  have  wan- 
dered, the  flag  of  our  beloved  state  has  been  unfurled  to  every  breeze: 
from  the  Platte  to  the  Danube,  from  the  Tiber  to  the  Clyde,  the  emblem 


288         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

of  our  sovereign  state  has  always  floated  over  the  '  Wild  West.'  Time 
goes  on  and  brings  with  it  new  duties  and  responsibilities,  but  we  'old 
men,'  we  who  are  called  old-timers,  cannot  forget  the  trials  and  tribula- 
tions which  we  had  to  encounter  while  paving  the  path  for  civilization 
and  national  prosperity. 

"The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  has  drowned  the  howl  of  the  coyote; 
the  barb-wire  fence  has  narrowed  the  range  of  the  cow-puncher;  but  no 
material  evidence  of  prosperity  can  obliterate  our  contribution  to  Ne- 
braska's imperial  progress. 

"  Through  your  kindness  to-day  I  have  tasted  the  sweetest  fruit  that 
grows  on  ambition's  tree.  If  you  extend  your  kindness  and  permit  me 
to  fall  back  into  the  ranks  as  a  high  private,  my  cup  will  be  full. 

"  In  closing,  let  me  call  upon  the  'Wild  West,  the  Congress  of  Rough 
Riders  of  the  World,'  to  voice  their  appreciation  of  the  kindness  you 
have  shown  them  to-day." 

At  a  given  signal  the  ''Wild  West"  gave  three  ringing 
cheers  for  Nebraska  and  the  Trans- Mississippi  Exposition. 
The  cowboy  band  followed  with  the  "Red,  White,  and 
Blue,"  and  an  exposition  band  responded  with  the  "Star- 
Spangled  Banner."  The  company  fell  into  line  for  a 
parade  around  the  grounds,  Colonel  Cody  following  on  his 
chestnut  horse,  Duke.  After  him  came  the  officials  and 
invited  guests  in  carriages;  then  came  the  Cossacks,  the 
Cubans,  the  German  cavalry,  the  United  States  cavalry, 
the  Mexicans,  and  representatives  of  twenty-five  countries. 

As  the  parade  neared  its  end,  my  brother  turned  to  his 
friends  and  suggested  that  as  they  had  been  detained  long 
past  the  dinner-hour  in  doing  him  honor,  he  would  like  to 
compensate  them  by  giving  an  informal  spread.  This 
invitation  was  promptly  accepted,  and  the  company 
adjourned  to  a  cafe,  where  a  tempting  luncheon  was  spread 
before  them.  Never  before  had  such  a  party  of  pioneers 
met  around  a  banquet-table,  and  many  were  the  reminis- 
cences of  early  days  brought  out.  Mr.  Majors,  the  origi- 
nator of  the  Pony  Express  line,  was  there.  The  two 
Creighton  brothers,  who  put  through  the  first  telegraph 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         289 

line,  and  took  the  occupation  of  the  express  riders  from 
them,  had  seats  of  honor.  A.  D.  Jones  was  introduced  as 
the  man  who  carried  the  first  postoffice  of  Omaha  around 
in  his  hat,  and  who  still  wore  the  hat.  Numbers  of  other 
pioneers  were  there,  and  each  contributed  his  share  of  racy 
anecdotes  and  pleasant  reminiscences. 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

THE  story  of  frontier  days  is  a  tale  that  is  told.  The 
"Wild  West"  has  vanished  like  mist  in  the  sun  before  the 
touch  of  the  two  great  magicians  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury— steam  and  electricity. 

The  route  of  the  old  historic  Santa  Fe  trail  is  nearly 
followed  by  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad, 
which  was  completed  in  1880.  The  silence  of  the  prairie 
was  once  broken  by  the  wild  war-whoop  of  the  Indian  as  he 
struggled  to  maintain  his  supremacy  over  some  adjoining 
tribe;  the  muffled  roar  caused  by  the  heavy  hoof-beats  of 
thousands  of  buffaloes  was  almost  the  only  other  sound 
that  broke  the  stillness.  To-day  the  shriek  of  the  engine, 
the  clang  of  the  bell,  and  the  clatter  of  the  car-wheels  form 
a  ceaseless  accompaniment  to  the  cheerful  hum  of  busy  life 
which  everywhere  pervades  the  wilderness  of  thirty  years 
ago.  Almost  the  only  memorials  of  the  struggles  and 
privations  of  the  hardy  trappers  and  explorers,  whose  daring 
courage  made  the  achievements  of  the  present  possible,  are 
the  historic  landmarks  which  bear  the  names  of  some  of 
these  brave  men.  But  these  are  very  few  in  number. 
Pike's  Peak  lifts  its  snowy  head  to  heaven  in  silent  com- 
memoration of  the  early  traveler  whose  name  it  bears. 
Simpson's  Rest,  a  lofty  obelisk,  commemorates  the  moun- 
taineer whose  life  was  for  the  most  part  passed  upon  its 
rugged  slopes,  and  whose  last  request  was  that  he  should 

290 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         291 

be  buried  on  its  summit.  Another  cloud-capped  moun- 
tain-height bears  the  name  of  Fisher's  Peak,  and  thereby 
hangs  a  tale. 

Captain  Fisher  commanded  a  battery  in  the  army 
engaged  in  the  conquest  of  New  Mexico.  His  command 
encamped  near  the  base  of  the  mountain  which  now  bears 
his  name.  Deceived  by  the  illusive  effect  of  the  atmos- 
phere, he  started  out  for  a  morning  stroll  to  the  supposed 
near-by  elevation,  announcing  that  he  would  return  in  time 
for  breakfast.  The  day  passed  with  no  sign  of  Captain 
Fisher,  and  night  lengthened  into  a  new  day.  When  the 
second  day  passed  without  his  return,  his  command  was 
forced  to  believe  that  he  had  fallen  a  prey  to  lurking  In- 
dians, and  the  soldiers  were  sadly  taking  their  seats  for  their 
evening  meal  when  the  haggard  and  wearied  captain  put  in 
an  appearance.  His  morning  stroll  had  occupied  two 
days  and  a  night ;  but  he  set  out  to  visit  the  mountain,  and 
he  did  it. 

The  transcontinental  line  which  supplanted  the  Old 
Salt  Lake  trail,  and  is  now  known  as  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad,  antedated  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  F6  by 
eleven  years.  The  story  of  the  difficulties  encountered, 
and  the  obstacles  overcome  in  the  building  of  this  road, 
furnishes  greater  marvels  than  any  narrated  in  the  Arabian 
Nights'  Tales. 

This  railroad  superseded  the  Pony  Express  line,  the 
reeking,  panting  horses  of  which  used  their  utmost  endeavor 
and  carried  their  tireless  riders  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  cov- 
ering their  circuit  in  eight  days'  time  at  their  swiftest  rate 
of  speed.  The  iron  horse  gives  a  sniff  of  disdain,  and 
easily  traverses  the  same  distance,  from  the  Missouri  line 
to  the  Pacific  Coast,  in  three  days. 

Travelers  who  step  aboard  the  swiftly  moving,  luxurious 


292         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

cars  of  to-day  give  little  thought  to  their  predecessors; 
for  the  dangers  the  early  voyagers  encountered  they  have 
no  sympathy.  The  traveler  in  the  stagecoach  was  beset 
by  perils  without  from  the  Indians  and  the  outlaws;  he 
faced  the  equally  unpleasant  companionship  of  fatigue  and 
discomfort  within.  The  jolting,  swinging  coach  bounced 
and  jounced  the  unhappy  passengers  as  the  reckless  driver 
lashed  the  flying  horses.  Away  they  galloped  over  moun- 
tains and  through  ravines,  with  no  cessation  of  speed. 
Even  the  shipper  pays  the  low  rate  of  transportation  asked 
to-day  with  reluctance,  and  forgets  the  great  debt  he  owes 
this  adjunct  of  our  civilization. 

But  great  as  are  the  practical  benefits  derived  from  the 
railways,  we  cannot  repress  a  sigh  as  we  meditate  on  the 
picturesque  phases  of  the  vanished  era.  Gone  are  the  bull- 
whackers  and  the  prairie-schooners!  Gone  are  the  stage- 
coaches and  their  drivers!  Gone  are  the  Pony  Express 
riders!  Gone  are  the  trappers,  the  hardy  pioneers,  the 
explorers,  and  the  scouts!  Gone  is  the  prairie  monarch, 
the  shaggy,  unkempt  buffalo' 

In  1869,  only  thirty  years  ago,  the  train  on  the  Kansas 
Pacific  road  was  delayed  eight  hours  in  consequence  of  the 
passage  of  an  enormous  herd  of  buffaloes  over  the  track  in 
front  of  it.  But  the  easy  mode  of  travel  introduced  by  the 
railroad  brought  hundreds  of  sportsmen  to  the  plains,  who 
wantonly  killed  this  noble  animal  solely  for  sport,  and 
thousands  of  buffaloes  were  sacrificed  for  their  skins,  for 
which  there  was  a  widespread  demand.  From  1868  to 
1 88 1,  in  Kansas  alone,  there  was  paid  out  $2,500,000  for 
the  bones  of  this  animal,  which  were  gathered  up  on  the 
prairie  and  used  in  the  carbon  works  of  the  country.  This 
represents  a  total  death-rate  of  31,000,000  buffaloes  in 
one  state.  As  far  as  I  am  able  to  ascertain,  there  remains 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         293 

at  this  writing  only  one  herd,  of  less  than  twenty  animals, 
out  of  all  the  countless  thousands  that  roamed  the  prairie 
so  short  a  time  ago,  and  this  herd  is  carefully  preserved  in 
a  private  park.  There  may  be  a  few  isolated  specimens  in 
menageries  and  shows,  but  this  wholesale  slaughter  has 
resulted  in  the  practical  extermination  of  the  species. 

As  with  the  animal  native  to  our  prairies,  so  has  it  been 
with  the  race  native  to  our  land.  We  may  deplore  the 
wrongs  of  the  Indian,  and  sympathize  with  his  efforts  to 
wrest  justice  from  his  so-called  protectors.  We  may  admire 
his  poetic  nature,  as  evidenced  in  the  myths  and  legends 
of  the  race.  We  may  be  impressed  by  the  stately  dignity 
and  innate  ability  as  orator  and  statesman  which  he  dis- 
plays. We  may  preserve  the  different  articles  of  his  pic- 
turesque garb  as  relics.  But  the  old,  old  drama  of  history 
is  repeating  itself  before  the  eyes  of  this  generation ;  the 
inferior  must  give  way  to  the  superior  civilization.  The 
poetic,  picturesque,  primitive  red  man  must  inevitably 
succumb  before  the  all-conquering  tread  of  his  pitiless, 
practical,  progressive  white  brother. 

Cooper  has  immortalized  for  us  the  extinction  of  a  peo- 
ple in  the  "Last  of  the  Mohicans."  Many  another  tribe 
has  passed  away,  unhonored  and  unsung.  Westward  the 
"Star  of  Empire"  takes  its  way;  the  great  domain  west  of 
the  Mississippi  is  now  peopled  by  the  white  race,  while  the 
Indians  are  shut  up  in  reservations.  Their  doom  is  sealed ; 
their  sun  is  set.  "Kismet"  has  been  spoken  of  them;  the 
total  extinction  of  the  race  is  only  a  question  of  time.  In 
the  words  of  Rudyard  Kipling: 

"  Take  up  the  White  Man's  burden — 

Ye  dare  not  stoop  to  less — 
Nor  call  too  loud  on  freedom 
To  cloke  your  weariness. 


294         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

By  all  ye  will  or  whisper, 

By  all  ye  leave  or  do, 
The  silent,  sullen  peoples 

Shall  weigh  your  God  and  you." 

Of  this  past  epoch  of  our  national  life  there  remains  but 
one  well-known  representative.  That  one  is  my  brother. 
He  occupies  a  unique  place  in  the  portrait  gallery  of  famous 
Americans  to-day.  It  is  not  alone  his  commanding  per- 
sonality, nor  the  success  he  has  achieved  along  various 
lines,  which  gives  him  the  strong  hold  he  has  on  the 
hearts  of  the  American  people,  or  the  absorbing  interest  he 
possesses  in  the  eyes  of  foreigners.  The  fact  that  in  his 
own  person  he  condenses  a  period  of  national  history  is  a 
large  factor  in  the  fascination  he  exercises  over  others. 
He  may  fitly  be  named  the  "Last  of  the  Great  Scouts." 
He  has  had  great  predecessors.  The  mantle  of  Kit  Carson 
has  fallen  upon  his  shoulders,  and  he  wears  it  worthily. 
He  has  not,  and  never  can  have,  a  successor.  He  is  the 
vanishing-point  between  the  rugged  wilderness  of  the  past 
in  Western  life  and  the  vast  achievement  in  the  present. 

When  the  "Wild  West"  disbands,  the  last  vestige  of  our 
frontier  life  passes  from  the  scene  of  active  realities,  and 
becomes  a  matter  of  history. 

"Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest,"  sings  the  poet,  and  real 
and  earnest  it  has  been  for  my  brother.  It  has  been  spent 
in  others'  service.  I  cannot  recall  a  time  when  he  has  not 
thus  been  laden  with  heavy  burdens.  Yet  for  himself  he 
has  won  a  reputation,  national  and  international.  A  naval 
officer  visiting  in  China  relates  that  as  he  stepped  ashore  he 
was  offered  two  books  for  purchase — one  the  Bible,  the 
other  a  "Life  of  Buffalo  Bill." 

For  nearly  half  a  century,  which  comprises  his  child- 
hood, youth,  and  manhood,  my  brother  has  been  before 


LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS.         295 

the  public.  He  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  had  a  child- 
hood, so  early  was  he  thrust  among  the  rough  scenes  of 
frontier  life,  therein  to  play  a  man's  part  at  an  age  when 
most  boys  think  of  nothing  more  than  marbles  and  tops. 
He  enlisted  in  the  Union  army  before  he  was  of  age,  and 
did  his  share  in  upholding  the  flag  during  the  Civil  War  as 
ably  as  many  a  veteran  of  forty,  and  since  then  he  has 
remained,  for  the  most  part,  in  his  country's  service, 
always  ready  to  go  to  the  front  in  any  time  of  danger.  He 
has  achieved  distinction  in  many  and  various  ways.  He  is 
president  of  the  largest  irrigation  enterprise  in  the  world, 
president  of  a  colonization  company,  of  a  town-site  com- 
pany, and  of  two  transportation  companies.  He  is  the 
foremost  scout  and  champion  buffalo-hunter  of  America, 
one  of  the  crack  shots  of  the  world,  and  its  greatest  popu- 
lar entertainer.  He  is  broad-minded  and  progressive  in 
his  views,  inheriting  from  both  father  and  mother  a  hatred 
of  oppression  in  any  form.  Taking  his  mother  as  a  stan- 
dard, he  believes  the  franchise  is  a  birthright  which  should 
appertain  to  intelligence  and  education,  rather  than  to  sex. 
It  is  his  public  career  that  lends  an  interest  to  his  private 
life,  in  which  he  has  been  a  devoted  and  faithful  son  and 
brother,  a  kind  and  considerate  husband,  a  loving  and 
generous  father.  ''Only  the  names  of  them  that  are 
upright,  brave,  and  true  can  be  honorably  known,"  were 
the  mother's  dying  words;  and  honorably  known  has  his 
name  become,  in  his  own  country  and  across  the  sea. 

With  the  fondest  expectation  he  looks  forward  to  the 
hour  when  he  shall  make  his  final  bow  to  the  public  and 
retire  to  private  life.  It  is  his  long-cherished  desire  to 
devote  his  remaining  years  to  the  development  of  the  Big 
Horn  Basin,  in  Wyoming.  He  has  visited  every  country 
in  Europe,  and  has  looked  upon  the  most  beautiful  of  Old 


296         LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS. 

World  scenes.  He  is  familiar  with  all  the  most  splendid 
regions  of  his  own  land,  but  to  him  this  new  El  Dorado  of 
the  West  is  the  fairest  spot  on  earth. 

He  has  already  invested  thousands  of  dollars  and  given 
much  thought  and  attention  toward  the  accomplishment  of 
his  pet  scheme.  An  irrigating  ditch  costing  nearly  a  mil- 
lion dollars  now  waters  this  fertile  region,  and  various 
other  improvements  are  under  way,  to  prepare  a  land  flow- 
ing with  milk  and  honey  for  the  reception  of  thousands  of 
homeless  wanderers.  Like  the  children  of  Israel,  these 
would  never  reach  the  promised  land  but  for  the  untiring 
efforts  of  a  Moses  to  go  on  before ;  but  unlike  the  ancient 
guide  and  scout  of  sacred  history,  my  brother  has  been 
privileged  to  penetrate  the  remotest  corner  of  this  primitive 
land  of  Canaan.  The  log  cabin  he  has  erected  there  is  not 
unlike  the  one  of  our  childhood  days.  Here  he  finds  his 
haven  of  rest,  his  health-resort,  to  which  he  hastens  when 
the  show  season  is  over  and  he  is  free  again  for  a  space. 
He  finds  refreshment  in  the  healthful,  invigorating  atmos- 
phere of  his  chosen  retreat ;  he  enjoys  sweet  solace  from  the 
cares  of  life  under  the  influence  of  its  magnificent  scenery. 

And  here,  in  the  shadow  of  the  Rockies,  yet  in  the  very 
"light  of  things,"  it  is  his  wish  to  finish  his  days  as  he 
began  them,  in  opening  up  for  those  who  come  after  him 
the  great  regions  of  the  still  undeveloped  West,  and  in 
poring  over  the  lesson  learned  a"s  a  boy  on  the  plains: 

"  That  nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her." 


THE   END. 


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