I
o) ^-iMBJ^l.^.
ms^o
K\^
THRILLING LIVES
OF
Buffalo Bill
Colonel Wm. F. Cody
Last of the Great Scouts
AND
Pawnee Bill
Major Gordon W. Lillie
White Chief of the
Pawnees
• .
BY
Frank Winch
SECOND EDITION
Copyrighted, 1911
by
COLONEL WM. F. CODY
and
MAJOR GORDON W. LILLIE
S. L. PARSONS & CO., Inc.
Publishers and Printers
No. 45 Rose Street
NEW YORI^
N. Y.
DEDICATION
A
TRIBUTE
TO
MOTHER.
(Copy of personal letter written by Buffalo Bill to the
author.)
VisALiA, California^ October 13, 1910.
My Dear Frank: —
Yes — i had the great pleasure of meeting your dear
little mother, and when I gazed on her sweet face and
listened to her gentle voice she reminded me very much
of my own angel mother who was little and sweet like
your mother.
And, Frank, I grew up among some of the roughest
men and some of the most desperate characters that ever
infested the border of civilization and had it not been for
the teachings and prayers of my mother I, too, might
have died with my boots on. I think to our mothers we
owe most. God bless our mothers.
Your true friend,
W. F. Cody.
[3]
CHAPTER
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I .
II .
III .
IV .
V .
VI .
VII .
VIII .
IX .
X .
XI .
XII .
XIII .
XIV .
XV .
XVI .
XVII .
XVIII .
XIX .
XX .
XXI .
XXII .
Boyhood days of "Buffalo Bill" . . 9
Shoots First Indian 19
As Pony Express Rider .... 29
A Civil War Spy 39
Wild Bill's Own Story 51
How "Buffalo Bill" Won His Name 59
Sheridan's Chief of Scouts ... 71
The Battle of Summit Springs . . 81
Cody Entertains Royalty at Buffalo
Hunt 91
Pawnee Bill's Boyhood Days . . . 101
Buffalo Bill As an Actor .... 115
Pawnee Bill Meets Jesse James . 125
Buffalo Bill's Duel with Chief Yel-
low Hand 139
Pawnee Bill Heads the Oklahoma
Land Boomers 147
Buffalo Bill Made Brigadier-General 157
Opening of the Cherokee Landstrip,
Pawnee Bill in the Lead . . . 165
How Buffalo Bill's Wild West Was
Organized 175
Pawnee Bill, the "Jekyll and Hyde of
the West" 187
Buffalo Bill's Last Time on the Bat-
tlefield 195
Buffalo Bill's Vast Properties ... 201
Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch and
Home 207
Buffalo Bill's Personal Farewell in
the Saddle 217
[5]
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGES
Buffalo Bill . Frontispiece
Pawnee Bill Frontispiece
Proclamation 8-9
Cody's Boyhood Friends 16-17
Custer, Duke Alexis, Buffalo Bill ..... 24-25
Characteristic Pose 32-33
Close to Nature . 40-41
Death of "Tall Bull" 48-49
The Wounded Scout 56-57
Chief "Iron Tail" . 64-65
Shooting Glass Balls . . 72-73
A Typical Cowboy .......... 80-81
Scenes from Cody's Life ........ 88-89
Generals Cody Served . . . . . . . . ., 96-97
A Duel in the Open 104-105
Cody Meets the King 112-113
Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill 120-121
Battle of Summit Springs . . . .... . . 128-129
Why Buffalo Bill Retires ....... 136-137
Buffalo Bill's Properties 144-145
On the Cody Trail 152-153
A Band of Sioux Indians ........ 160-161
Pawnee Bill's Home 168-169
Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch 176-177
The LiUie Family 184-185
A Consultation 192-193
The Indian Monument . . . 200-201
Making the War Bonnet . 208-209
The Farewell Salute . 216-217
[6]
I
PREFACE.
History is merely the chronicle of great men. Their
deeds remain alive forever — time and epochs flicker only
a moment and are succeeded again by time and men.
As we each span our brief career, it is given to some to
know great men only by the history they create — others
to do with, to know personally, to enjoy their confidence,
to study at close range the qualities that differentiate
greatness.
It is just this favored opportunity of intimate observa-
tion that prompts the dual life histories of Buffalo Bill and
Pawnee Bill. Buffalo Bill's fame was spreading when the
gray heads of to-day were romping youngsters of yester-
day, others grow old but the famous Scout seemed to revel
in perpetual youth, at last, however, the inevitable is
clocking off the showmanship days of Buffalo Bill, he
has decreed the present season as his farewell in the sad-
dle. He retires to enjoy the fruits of a life teeming with
danger, sorrows, joys and struggles crowned with the
ineffable gift of being America's most loved and Ideal
Hero Horseman.
The question is asked, *'Who will take Buffalo Bill's
place ?" and the following pages will couple in golden links
the passing of the world's greatest Scout, Colonel William
Frederick Cody, with his only legitimate successor, a man
who courted prairie dangers when a boy, whose metal
was tempered with the trying hardships that beset a primi-
tive West, whose whole life has runged the ladder of
Indian warfare, adventure, scouting, border fights, and
the early settlement of one of our finest Western States —
Major Gordon W. LilHe, "Pawnee Bill."
[7]
The lives of both these history makers are threaded
with action of fact. I have eliminated from these pages
every detail that smacks of tinseled theatrics. Buffalo
Bill is one of the gentlest of men, warm hearted,
kindly and generous. He is not demonstrative, nor does
he enthuse, he is not impressionistic, but at all times he is
observant of the slightest good in others. He notes every
turn and twist of character, he is a student of human
nature and a good one. He is a man that rewards friend
and foe in a befitting manner.
I hero-worshiped Buffalo Bill when a child, adored him
in youth, and now in manhood my fondest kid dreams
have become crystallized in fact by the pleasure and honor
of meeting him, knowing him and valuing his good friend-
ship. I want every boy-man and every man-boy in the
world to know Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill as I know
them, I want to poise these two greatest of our living
frontiersmen as an example for the emAilation of young
and old America — that those whose trail in life is cobbled
with the sharp-edged stones of adversity may take a fresh
grip on determination and reach their goal of happiness,
every man's heritage.
In this volume I aim at nothing more than giving to
their million friends a simple, accurate and fictionless
resume of the two greatest and most noted living plains-
men that America ever had occasion to cherish — the
Honorable William F. Cody, ''Buffalo Bill," and Major
Gordon W. Lillie, 'Tawnee Bill."
Frank Winch
New York, March 6, 1911.
[8]
To The PUBLIC:
AFTER MANY YEARS of almost constant
devotion to my calling, I have determined to
retire from active service at the expiration of a
final and complete tour of the American continent.
THEREFORE, following a series of "Farewell Exhibi-
tions" which I hope to give in 1911 and 1912,1 shall per-
manently abandon the arena, and seek to enjoy some of the
fruits of my labors, which I feel that I have well earned
during a long life of activity on the frontier, in the field
during the Civil and Indian Wars, and as a provider of the
most approved drama of our National History.
IT IS, however, my earnest desire to once more salute from
the saddle my millions of friends and patrons, and I take this
opportunity to emphatically state that this will be my
LAST, SOLE AND ONLY PROFESSIONAL APPEARANCE
in the cities and towns nominated in the present itinerary, as it is my
purpose to leave the active management of the great Educational Ex-
hibition, which I have created, in the hands of my partner. Major G. W.
Lillie (Pawnee Bill), and his associates, who will continue the enter-
prise on the same magnificent scale and true fidelity that 1 have always
tried to maintain, but without my perspnal presence in the saddle.
AND NOW that I have reached this unalterable conclusion, I want
to thank my numerous friends and the public for the full measure of
success and applause that they have bestowed upon me, and I
know of no honor that I shall cherish more than their good
wishes, while the silent years are lurking in ambush for "The
Ord Scout," and at the conclusion of each and every perform-
ance I shall bid my numerous friends a fond farewell.
Yours, always sincerely, _ fi /Cjf
'j^^cX^- (^Jjjl
CHAPTER I.
Boyhood Days of Buffalo Bill.
i^OTHER, I've just killed my first Indian,"
gleefully shouted a bright-faced, rosy-
cheeked lad of eleven, with eyes glistening
as they fondly ranged over the rifle he car-
ried. Putting the gun away, the youngster
ran to his mother, kissed her and took both hands
in his.
"It was pretty exciting, too, mother," the lad continued.
"Willie, you must be careful."
It wasn't that Mrs. Cody didn't exactly approve of
Indian killing, for in 1857 the redskins were recklessly
massacring any and all the whites they chanced upon,
but she feared for a lad of such tender age going into the
open and risking his own precious life — made more
so at this time, for youth that he was, Willie Cody was
the head of the family and its sole male protector.
[9]
Thrilling Lives
This then is our first introduction to William Frederick
Cody — later on Colonel — the Honorable — and as he is
known in every civilized country on earth — "Buffalo Bill."
Isaac and Mary Cody, his parents, pioneers of Iowa, lived
near the town of Le Clair, on the comfortable Scott Farm,
Scott County, Iowa. It was here on the morning of
February 26, 1846, that Cody was born. There were
seven children, Martha, Julia, Eliza, Helen, May, Samuel
and William. The latter was the fourth child. His first
few years were spent in the ordinary life of most robust
farmers' children. At a very early age Billy Cody became
an adept at boating, fishing, shooting and in the art of
horsemanship.
In 1849 Isaac Cody operated a stage line between Chi-
cago and Davenport, la., there being no railroads at that
time. His business was prosperous, but Hke many others
he listened to the call of the Far W^est. California was
then in the throes of its gold fever craze. The elder Cody
made up his mind, turned his property into cash, and
shortly after with the entire family safely stored away in
wagons, joined one of the numerous cross-continent cara-
vans.
Proceeding but a few miles, they met returning strag-
[to]
Cody in Constant Deviltry
glers from the Pacific Coast Eldorado. Tales of hardships
were not infrequently heard. Among the party were
friends of Cody who endeavored to discourage him from
the perilous and, as they found it, fruitless trip across
the country. Dreams of golden fortunes vanished from
the newly organized prospectors, most of whom returned
home.
The Cody family moved along, however, and finally
located at Walnut Grove Farm in Scott County. Bill
Cody was sent to school. While his merry nature was
the life of his class, it also proved too trying a task for
the teacher. The lad was in constant deviltry, first one
thing and then another, until one day, after being attacked
and badly whipped by a boy much older and stronger than
the little fellow, Cody made up his mind for revenge.
His chance came soon after. The bully attacked him
again. Cody retaliated and thrashed the coward in good
school-boy fashion. With loud cries that he was being
murdered, the big boy ran to the teacher for help. Cody
was dismissed, and afterwards offered reinstatement, but
he was too full of animal spirits, he loved out-doors too
well, his traps, gun, horse and the woods were his only
curriculum of study.
[II]
Thrilling Lives
Isaac Cody became prominent as a farmer and politician.
He was elected Justice of the Peace and frequently
stumped the county on behalf of the Whigs. It was dur-
ing a convention that he harangued an interested crowd
at a cross-road tavern called "Sherman's," that the first
disaster entered his Hfe, one that was to have portentous
weight in the future, one that spun the cycle of events
sadly and swiftly for his devoted family.
It was on that day that William and Samuel, the older
brother, had gone for a horseback ride; Sam, who was
then fourteen years old was a remarkably good horseman.
His pony, a wild and unruly little creature, suddenly
plunged. "Look out for him, Sam!" Billy cried.'
"Oh, he's all right," Sam answered. "Pretty near got
me then, didn't you, pony?" he said, scolding his horse.
Without a second's warning the animal plunged again,
and when standing on its hind feet reared backward, fell
to the ground, the unfortunate Sam was pinioned be-
neath. The lad lived but a few hours.
Crushed by the loss of her son, Mrs. Cody could not
remain where painful memories of the sad accident were
constantly freshened to her mind. The family moved
westward — this time heading for Weston, Platte County,
[12]
Playing with Indians
Missouri, where a brother of Isaac Cody was Hving. It
was the father's intention to eventually reach Kansas.
For a year or so things moved quietly. The father
engaged in trading with the Indians, earning their re-
spect and friendship, likewise that of the settlers. Will
Cody spent most of his time playing with the Kickapoo
Indian boys, learning their language, how to handle the
bow and arrow, and in many ways studying their traits
and habits.
In 1854 a bill called "The Enabling Act of Kansas,"
was passed. Thousands of homeseekers flocked to the
territory. Many came from the adjoining States, includ-
ing numbers of Missourians.
The country was being racked with the slavery ques-
tion.. Most of the Missourians, as was his brother Elija,
were in favor of negro bondage. Frequent meetings were
held and speeches intended to inflame pro-slavery sup-
port were heard on all sides.
Isaac Cody maintained discreet silence, but his ability
as an orator led others to draw him from seclusion, little
thinking of the calamity that was to follow. From the
North and South came the ominous rumbles of battle talk,
the pro- and anti-slavery men in all sections busied them-
[13]
Thrilling Lives
selves in proselyting to one banner or the other. Weston,
the little prairie village, issued a call for a gigantic mass
meeting. Speakers from near-by settlements were invited
to strengthen the cause by an expression of their views.
The elder Cody was prevailed upon to talk.
Billy accompanied his father to the meeting place. It
was held in the open, a huge box doing service as a
rostrum, and on all sides a hundred or so drink-crazed
slavery fanatics had gathered to hear Isaac Cody's de-
nunciation of pro-slavery. His appearance was greeted
with cheers, then as he mounted the box a silence spread,
the men listened eagerly.
"Gentlemen and fellow citizens," began Cody in clear,
determined voice, 'T accept your invitation to speak — it is
against my will. My views are not in accord with the
rest of this assembly. The question before us to-day is:
Shall the Territory of Kansas be a free or slave State?
The question of slavery is a broad one ; your motive in call-
ing upon me is to have me express my sentiments in
regard to the introduction of slavery in Kansas. I will
gratify your wish ; I am one of the pioneers of Iowa, gen-
tlemen ; I voted that it should be a white State."
This unexpected statement came like a thunderbolt,
[U]
Cody Protects His Father
"Down with him," yelled an infuriated wretch, brandish-
ing a pistol.
"Hear him out!" shouted others; and when quiet was
restored, Cody continued : "I say to you now, and say it
emphatically, that I propose to exert all my power
in making Kansas the same kind of a State as
Iowa."
Angry murmurs and subdued threats swept over the
crowd. Bill Cody, young as he was, scented danger, and
edged closer to his father, keeping an eye on a wicked-
looking gangster who was fingering his revolver.
"These are my sentiments, gentlemen," Cody continued,
"and let me tell you " But the sentence was never fin-
ished. The mob was worked to a fever heat of frenzy;
it hooted and hissed.
"Get down from that box !"
"Traitor !"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
The elder Cody was in the act of continuing his speech
when a skulking coward sneaked up behind, dealt the
guarding youngster a terrible blow on the head, jumped
to the box and sank his bowie knife to its hilt in Isaac
Cody's back.
[15]
Thrilling Lives
Instantly pandemonium reigned ; the assassin sprang at
the prostrate body as it rolled to the ground.
"Men, this is not fair play," exclaimed Billy Cody.
"Give father a chance."
The better element in the crowd overpowered the mur-
derer. Realizing the effect of this lawlessness in the blood-
stained body of heroic Isaac Cody as it lay on the ground,
most of the mob quickly dispersed. Helping hands car-
ried the unconscious man to his home. For weeks he
hovered between life and death, and for weeks the family
was kept in constant terror by the frequent raids of a
blood-thirsty gang, who, on hearing that he was still alive,
demanded Cody's life.
One evening a month or so after the stabbing, when
Mr. Cody had convalesced sufficiently to sit up,
a party of horsemen drew rein at the door. Billy
had seen them approach, and gave the warning,
Mrs. Cody hastily hid the sick man in an upper
rcMDm.
"Halloo, there ! Open that door !" came the shouts from
the crowd.
Mrs. Cody opened the window.
"What do you want?" she exclaimed.
[i6]
TEXAS JACK-WILD BILL-BUFFALO BILL.
As They Appeared in Their Younger Days.
"Get Ready — Load Guns"
"We are after that abolitionist husband of yours," an-
swered one of the crowd.
"He is not in this house," Mrs. Cody repHed, with
brave voice.
"That's a liel We know that he's here, and we're bound
to have him," said the spokesman, advancing with his
crowd.
"Stop, or you will all be killed; this house is full of
armed men." She withdrew from the window for a min-
ute, and hurriedly instructed the herder to call aloud cer-
tain names, any that he might think of, just as if the
house was full of men to whom he was giving orders.
He followed the directions to the very letter; the crowd
outside heard him, and thought that there was really
quite a force of men in the house. While this was going
on, Mrs. Cody opened the window and said:
"You had better go away — the men will surely fire on
you."
At this point the herder, Billy Cody, and his sisters
commenced stamping on the floor, imitating a squad of
soldiers marching to the front of the house, and the
herder issued orders in a loud voice to his imaginary force
of men :
[17]
Thrilling Lives
*'Get ready, load guns, aim-
>j
The stratagem was successful; the villains, all except
the man who stabbed Cody, fled. This fellow approached
the house steps. Bill Cody, grabbing a rifle, sprang to
the window, leveled at the rufflan. "Stop !" exclaimed
Cody. "Not another step! And if father dies I will
kill you!"
[i8]
CHAPTER II.
Shoots First Indian.
'Y NO means had the turbulent days come to
an end for the Codys. The pro-slavery men
kept up a persistent persecution of Isaac
Cody, whose recovery was slow and never
complete.
In the Spring of 1857 he succumbed to the wound, a
martyr for the cause of Kansas in an effort to keep it
unsullied with the blackness of slavery. The land of
his adoption and where his son in after years was to carve
glory from hardships became his last resting place.
Isaac Cody's remains now rest at Pilot Knob,
which overlooks the city of Leavenworth. Friend and foe
granted him in death the tributes of respect he merited as
an upright, generous, kindly and just man.
Some weeks after this, a youngster not twelve years
old walked in to an office in Leavenworth.
[19]
Thrilling Lives
"I want to see the boss," Billy Cody said.
'I'm he," replied a Mr. Majors of the firm of Russel,
Majors and Wadell, who were overland freighters and
contractors. "What do you want?"
"Work."
"What can a boy of your age do?" asked Majors
kindly.
"I can ride, shoot and herd cattle," said Cody. "I'm
the head of the family now and will do anything honest
that pays the best money, so that I can take care of my
mother and sisters."
"What's your name, my boy?"
"Billy Cody."
Mr. Majors looked at the handsome, manly youngster
for a second ; he had known his father well.
"I would like to do something for you, but our work is
too hard for such a lad."
"You pay man's wages for man's work, don't you?"
asked Bill. "Give me a chance ; I want nothing but what
I can earn."
Will was employed as extra boy on a freight caravan.
The die was cast; unknowingly to boy and man he was
launched on a career that meant more for civilization than
[20]
Good-bye, Mother
any would have ventured to guess. Thrown on his own
resources when most lads think only of marbles or top
spinning, with the added duty of earning a support for
mother and sisters. Cody, whose fame was subsequently
to penetrate the farthermost corners of the world, began
a life that for half a century afterward was beset with
every danger and peril that human could encounter and
survive. He keystoned the arch of reclamation that gave
to our country its best, most fertile and richest section
of the great unknown West.
In a twinkling Billy had hurried home, told his mother
and sisters of his good fortune, packed away a few trin-
kets, a small Bible, fondly kissed his sweet little mother
and the youngsters good-bye, and rushed back to report
for duty.
Quick orders had been received at the office to dispatch
a herd of cattle to General Albert Sidney Johnson, who
was enroute across the plains, headed for Salt Lake to
fight the Mormons.
Frank and Bill McCarthy had charge of the supply
train and herd of cattle ; young Cody was assigned as ex-
tra boy, his duties carrying him from one wagon to the
other with messages from the different bosses.
[21]
Thrilling Lives
The "bullwhackers," in other words drivers and the
wagon masters, took a great fancy to young Cody. They
liked his quiet and manly ways, his pluck in undertaking
such hard work.
The first part of the journey was uneventful. Cody
welcomed an order, as it gave him a chance to dash back
and forward on a spirited pony. His riding won the
praise of everyone on the train. So far all had been
serene. He was homesick at times for the loving ones
left behind. He grew tired, as his young body was not
hardened to the tiresome travel; but always before him
shone the beacon of success, he made up his mind to win
out, and how well he succeeded subsequent events speak
for themselves.
Nothing occurred to interrupt the journey until the
caravan reached Plum Creek on the South Platte River,
about thirty-five miles west of Old Fort Kearney. The
train had made its morning drive and halted for dinner.
Three men were placed on guard as outpost, and nearly
all the balance, tired with the arduous trip, spread them-
selves under the mess wagon for a short sleep.
Will Cody was rep-airing a broken saddle strap. In the
far distance he thought he espied a cloud of dust or rain.
[22]
Three Guards Shot
"Going to storm, ain't it?" he asked one of the drivers.
"Look over there."
"Storm hell !" shouted the other, after a glance. "Them's
Indians."
Cody gave a shout of warning, and a second later as
the men hustled from a soft sleep, grabbed their guns and
prepared for action.
A volley of shots came from the left, the air rang with
demoniac war whoops in a flash, the cattle had stampeded
and were scurrying in all directions. The three guards
were shot down, and the Indians by hundreds came charg-
ing at the brave little body of men huddled behind the
wagons.
This was Cody's first sight of Indians on murder bent.
He had heard of them, their bloodthirsty yells, their poi-
soned arrows, their naked, highly-colored, stained bodies ;
their fantastic-colored headgear. He was flushed with
excitement, quietly pulling the gun trigger he raised just
over the wagon side.
"Get down there, boy !" yelled the man beside him, as a
bullet whistled over the youngster's head.
"Them red devils can shoot like mad !"
[23]
Thrilling Lives
Cody crouched beside the wagon master and waited for
orders from the boss. On they came, the Indians mounted
on snorting, hard-breathing ponies, war-whooping to the
accompanying horse-hoof tattoo as they raced over the
hard, brown, sunburnt prairies.
The wagon men were all well armed with heavy Colt
revolvers and Mississippi yaegers, a powerful gun carry-
ing a bullet and two buckshot.
"Steady, boys !" Frank McCarthy sang out coolly.
'Take good aim, pick your man. Fire!"
The guns thundered, and through powder flash and
smoke the leader saw the effect of the fire. The volley
checked the rush for a moment.
"Boys," McCarthy yelled, "load up as you run and
make a break for that slough yonder ; we can use its bank
for a breastwork."
On double-quick the men dashed for cover, reached it
in safety, carrying along one of their number who had
been wounded. The bank afforded excellent protection,
but McCarthy was worried.
"The longer we stay here," he said, "the worse we'll be
coralled ; we must try to make our way back to Fort Kear-
[24] .
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Followed by Indl\ns
ney by wading the river, keeping in the shadow of the
bank."
Slowly and cautiously the little band of men edged their
way down the stream, in places it was so deep that they
had to swim; a raft was built for the wounded herder.
The Indians followed at a safe distance, occasionally
sending along a bothersome shot or poisoned arrow.
Strong men as they were, the strain and labor began to
tell on the wagon drivers. It was a case of every man
for himself ; little attention had been paid to young Cody,
who was drenched to the skin.
Surging with excitement, his brain and body not used
to such a gruelling task, was deadly fatigued. The
youngster began to lag behind.
It was about ten o'clock that night — the moon at times
peeped through tree tops fringing the river bank. All
was quiet save the gurgling water as the stream swirled
around the tired legs of the wagon men. They were mov-
ing forward very slowly.
Cody crept to the bank exhausted. He crawled beneath
a big bowlder for a moment's rest, his body numbed, his
eyes drowsy ; the youngster's head was soon nodding its
willingness to toss off to slumber.
[25]
Thrilling Lives
The others of the party continued on. All was silence.
Suddenly a twig snapped on the bank's edge overhead.
Cody was alert in a second. He listened. Then came the
sound of dry grass rustling as if an animal were stealthily
moving. Instinctively the boy scented danger. He cau-
tiously peered around the bowlder's edge, and at the same
instant the moon rays fell aslant the river bank's crest.
There, peering down the stream, lying prostrate, poising
his rifle for a deadly shot, was an Indian with head plumed
in Chieftain's feathers. The redskin's rifle trigger clicked
and at the same instant Cody aimed.
Bang ! — a blinding flash, a puflf of smoke, and the In-
dian came tumbling down to the water's edge, dead.
The shot was a warning for the men ahead; a second
later the Indians, who had wriggled themselves to the
river bank top, opened fire. Cody's shot had drawn their
attention, and, thinking that the entire body of whites
were close at hand, the redskins fusilladed the direction
from where Cody's shot came. He had dodged back
behind the bowlder, and lay there uninjured waiting for
another chance.
Led on by McCarthy, the men soon routed the Indians,
Cody scrambling over the bank, joined in the fight and
[26]
Billy, You're a Dandy
had his first taste of Indian warfare. The little heroic
band gathered around two of its men that had fallen in
the skirmish.
"Men, that first shot was the warning that saved all our
lives," exclaimed Frank McCarthy, gazing at the Indian
Cody shot. "Who fired it ?"
"I did," modestly spoke up young Cody.
"By thunder, Billy, you're a dandy!" and the wagon
master was the first to grasp his hand. "We owe our
lives to you."
The men showered their gratitude and congratulations
on the blushing youngster.
"Just doing my duty," Bill remarked. "Mr. Majors
told me that I would have to do a man's work to get a
man's pay, and I'm trying to do it."
[27]
CHAPTER III.
As A Pony Express Rider.
OR an hour or so the party waited ; making
sure that the Indians had abandoned their
attack, they proceeded cautiously to Kear-
ney, where Russel, Majors and Wadell had
an agent. McCarthy reported the battle. A
company of troops was sent out as escort. The bodies
of the slain herders were found scalped and literally cut
to pieces, the remains were buried on the plains.
A few of the stampeded cattle were caught, the expedi-
tion was a failure, and young Cody returned home, where
the news of his Indian killing had preceded him. He was
warmly congratulated by Mr. Majors.
Billy Cody was not slated for a life of inactivity. He
joined another outfit with supplies for General Johnson's
army. This fared with but little success. The Danites
[29]
Thrilling Lives
captured the supplies, and the men were again sent home.
It was during this trip, however, that Cody met one of
the greatest of frontiersmen — James B. Hickock — who
won fame as a man quick on the trigger, earning the sobri-
quet of ''Wild Bill." He took a great fancy to young
Cody, which ripened into the warmest of friendship, con-
tinuing throughout the life of Wild Bill.
Cody spent a year or so trapping, was captured by In-
dians, had a marvelous escape, encountered a band of
horse thieves, killed one, and led an expedition which
captured the rest. For weeks shortly after this he had a
leg broken and lay in a cave while a boon • friend and
chum rode and walked a hundred miles for medical aid.
Then came the agitation for a mail service between the
East and West that was faster than the then present-day
mode of transporting letters. The Pony Express was cre-
ated. By relaying horse and rider with others at certain
points along the route, mail could be sent to California in
about three weeks. Letters were written on the finest
tissrc paper and were carried at the rate of five to eight
dollars an ounce. As the experiment became a success,
valuable parcels were dispatched. It took but little time
for the outlaws infesting the Western deserts to realize
[30]
Meets Old Friend
that robbery of the express pouch would result to their
profit. In consequence a new terror was added to that
which already menaced the riders, in the shape of wild
animals and marauding Indians.
The riders received about one hundred and twenty-five
dollars a month for their perilous work. Two hundred
and fifty miles was the daily assignment that these
intrepid men must cover.
On the 3rd of April, 1860, the first Pony Express rider
with pouch strapped to his back bounded away on the
journey that led from St. Joseph, Mo., to Sacramento, Cal.
Cody, now a lad of fourteen, had gone out West again.
He intended to try mining. At Julesberg he met the
agent of Russel, Majors and Wadell, who owned the Pony
Express line.
"Hello, Billy," said Mr. Christman, who was formerly
in the same wagon train with Cody, as the latter ran into
him accidentally. The meeting was a cordial one. The
agent was then buying ponies and equipment to get his
section of the line in readiness.
"Sorry you aren't older, Billy," Christman said. 'Td
like to give you a job as Pony Express rider."
[31]
Thrilling Lives
Then the agent explained the new venture, its dangers
and the pay the riders would receive.
"A hundred and twenty-five a month," mused the four-
teen-year-old plainsman, thinking of the mothers and sis-
ters at home. "Say, Mr. Christman, give me a chance at
that job, will you?"
"Can't do it, Billy; the work is too hard and too danger-
ous ; nerves of steel and a quick enough eye along the
pistol barrel don't come in youngsters of your age, no
matter how game and willing you are."
In a twinkling Cody's revolver flashed from its holster;
a cowboy twenty feet away was striking a match to light
his pipe. A sharp report, and the astounded cowboy
gazed at the stub end of the match held in his fingers, the
other end lay on the ground.
"My nerves are as good as my eye — I want a job as a
rider," and Cody pleaded his case to such good effect that
he was promptly engaged.
For three months the lad pounded against the saddle,
making fifteen miles an hour every day. The work wore
him down ; at times he thought that possibly his nerves
were made of iron instead of steel, but his will was in-
domitable.
[32]
A CHARACTERISTIC POSE.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Permit Me to Introduce a Congress
of the Rough Riders of the World."
"Throw up Your Hands!"
The "folks at home needed the money, and he was de-
termined to stick it out as long as he could keep his tired
body together on the back of his dashing pony. So far
he had been decidedly lucky in not meeting with any
trying experiences with either Indians or highwaymen,
and in due proportion he felt deeply chagrined. He craved
for just a little excitement to relieve the monotony of the
continuous pound, pound, pound of horse hoofs and the
scurrying of coyotes. At the stables he even twitted
Christman about the forewarned dangers. Wish as he
might, nothing would occur to give the lad a chance to
test his metal against real trouble.
One day Christman called Cody to the office.
"Be careful to-day, Billy," he said; "we're sending a
very valuable package through — there are reports of the
Halloway gang along th«e trail."
"I'll get through safely," Bill replied, leaped to the
saddle and dashed away.
For several hours nothing untoward occurred. He
was speeding along the narrow trail when, just as he was
rounding a bend, some one shouted :
"Throw up your hands !"
[33]
Thrilling Lives
"Can't," Cody replied. "Horse will run away." He
drew rein. "I say, Mister, point the business end of that
gun of yours away from my head."
Cody was decidedly cool — here was a predicament, just
what he had hoped for, but it came without a warning;
then he remembered that Christman told him to get his
pouches through.
"Hurry up, throw off those mail bags," commanded the
outlaw sternly.
"These ain't mail bags," Cody fibbed, sparring for time
to get his plan of action working; "just some old papers
I'm taking over to the post."
"Look here, boy, I don't want to hurt you, but throw
'em off quick or I'll shoot !"
Cody knew he meant business. He unbuckled the bags
and threw them over the horse's head at the robber's
feet. As the latter stooped to pick them up, Billy rammed
the spurs to the pony's flanks, the animal jumped wildly,
struck the outlaw flush, and sent him sprawling to the
ground.
Cody's gun covered the thief in a second.
"Look here, Mister Robber, I don't want to hurt you,"
[34]
Express Rider Killed
«
Billy said banteringly, mocking the other, "but throw
those bags up here quick, or I'll shoot!"
The robber lay motionless. Billy dismounted, ap-
proached cautiously and saw that the man was unconscious.
He had been struck in the head by the horse's hoof. A
deep gash across his forehead told the story. After dis-
arming him, Billy replaced the mail bags, hid the outlaw's
weapons in the brush near by, dragged him to a tree, and,
using a leather rope, tied the outlaw fast; then, remount-
ing, urged the pony on to make up for the time lost in
tete-a-teteing with the robber.
As he neared the next station where he was to be re-
lieved, Cody saw signs that foreboded trouble. The door
was opened, the windows shattered, and, lying beside the
hitching post, gun in hand, the relief rider was dead. There
was no one to take the bags on to the next station. It
meant a serious delay on the one side — an eighty-five mile
ride for him if he continued. Cody was tired ; with-
out a moment's hesitation the gritty youngster nosed his
pony on the trail for Rocky Ridge. It was a heart-break-
ing task, but when duty called Cody did not know the
word quit. About ten miles out he had a skirmish with
a party of ten or fifteen Indians ; bending low over the
[35]
Thrilling Lives
pony's back and reaching under its neck, he emptied both
revolvers at the redskins; they gave up the chase, as the
boy's pony vi^as too fleet of foot and the bullets had
whizzed too near their heads.
Arriving at the post he changed horses, reported the
other rider's death, and half an hour later was tearing
along the path homeward bound.
The ride was eventless. Approaching finally the bend
where he had met the robber the day before, Billy, pistol
in hand, made the turn cautiously. The man was still
unconscious. In a second Cody had the figure strapped
on behind him.
It was dark when Cody and the captive outlaw reached
headquarters. Christman was standing out front ; he was
mad through and through.
"What the devil kept you so long?" he exclaimed.
"This won't do. You're fired and fined a month's pay."
Billy drew rein, dismounted, and let the outlaw slip to
the ground ; he was conscious and made an effort to es-
cape, but was promptly checked by Cody.
"Who in thunder is that?" shouted Christman.
"Don't know much about him ; he tried to hold me up,"
Cody replied quietly. "Better send some one up to the
[36]
A Life Job
other station, someone killed the agent. I took his bags
right through to Rocky Ridge."
Cody started to lead his horse to the corral.
"Hold on, Billy." Christman's voice had softened. 'To
Rocky Ridge? Why, man alive, it's a three hundred and
twenty-three mile trip, and you made it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, darn my hide, I take back what I said ; you're
not fired — you've got a life job and a twenty-five-dollar-a-
month raise in wages. Here's my hand."
"Thank you, sir."
Then Billy fed and watered his horse, shook down
some hay and tumbled off to sleep.
37
CHAPTER IV.
A Civil War Spy.
^OUNG man, I want some one that I can trust
to send on a very dangerous and important
errand," said General O. J. Smith. "You
will do."
And with those words young Cody, now
eighteen years old, tall, handsome, with a frank, boyish
candor in every feature, assumed one of the most arduous
military roles ever assigned to a soldier.
Many events had transpired since those narrated in the
preceding chapter. Mrs. Cody had passed away. Broken-
hearted, he gave up the Pony Express riding. The
guns of Sumter had written in flame their ominous mes-
sage. Bill Cody decided to enlist. He was recruited in the
Seventh Kansas Regiment, known as Jennison's Jay-
hawkers, which had once disbanded, reorganized and
re-enlisted as veterans.
[39]
Thrilling Lives
The regiment was ordered to Tennessee, reaching there
just about the time that General Sturgis had been soundly
whipped by the forces under General Forrest.
"Report for duty within an hour if you are satisfied to
take the big risks for your country."
"You mean," answered Cody quietly, "that you wish me
to go as a spy in the rebel camp?"
"Exactly; you know the penalty if caught — you will be
hung."
*T am ready to obey any duty assigned to me^ sir,"
replied the youngster.
"I am sure, Cody," said General Smith kindly, "that if
any one can go through safely you will, dodging Indians
on the plains was good training for the work you have
in hand, which demands quick intelligence and ceaseless
vigilance. Take these maps to your quarters, study them
carefully, return to-night for full instructions."
Saluting the officer, Cody wheeled about, his bearing
every bit the soldier. When once beneath the canvas of
his tent, his whole frame relaxed.
"A spy," he mused ; "by thunder, I don't mind being
shot, but I hate to think of the disgrace of being hanged.
[40]
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It's important work, and some one must do it. I will, and
succeed, too."
Just as he was about to enter the general's tent that
evening, Cody saw the figure of a man skulking in the
brush. He eyed him for a second, then quickly throwing
rifle to shoulder, gave the command :
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"Don't shoot ; I'm wounded," came the reply.
"Advance."
A limping figure emerged from the bushes. It was
dressed in Confederate gray. Cody approached.
"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Nat Golden, whom I
knew when I was on the freight caravans."
Golden recognized Cody instantly.
"Hello, Bill Cody; what are you doing here?"
"At present making you a prisoner of war," Bill an-
swered. "Nat, this is too bad. I would have rather cap-
tured a whole regiment than you. I don't like to take you
a prisoner. Why in thunder did you enlist on the other
side?"
"The fortunes of war, Billy," laughed Nat. "Friends
shall be turned against friends, and brother against
brother. You wouldn't have had me a prisoner if my
[41]
Thrilling Lives
rifle hadn't missed fire, that wounded stunt was only a
bluff; mighty glad my gun failed me, Bill, for I wouldn't
have wanted to be the one that shot you/'
''And I don't want to see you strung up," Bill said ; "so
hand me over those papers that you have and I will turn
you in as an ordinary prisoner."
"Do you think I am a spy, Billy ?" asked Nat, with face
paled.
"I know it."
"Well," Nat repHed, "I've risked my life to obtain these
papers, but they will be taken from me anyway; so I
might as well give them up now if it will save my neck."
Cody called the guard, turned over his prisoner, and
presented himself to the commander. As usual, he thought
quickly. His plan was original and daring.
"General, I gathered from a statement dropped by a
prisoner that I just captured that a Confederate spy had
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."
"I am glad to get this information," replied the gen-
eral. "I will change my position so that the enemy's in-
[42]
Who Goes There?
formation will be of no value to them. When will you
set out?"
"To-night, sir. I have a Confederate uniform and every-
thing ready for an early start."
''Going to change your colors, eh ?"
"Yes, for the time being; but not my principles."
"You will need all the wit, pluck, nerve and caution of
which you are possessed to come through this ordeal
safely. Good-bye, and success go with you," and the gen-
eral grasped the young man's hand in hearty manner.
At four o'clock in the morning Cody was in the saddle,
riding toward the Confederate lines. At dawn he sighted
the enemy's outposts. He was carefully dressed as a
Southern officer. With a reassuring touch of the papers
in his pocket that he had taken from Nat Golden, he
spurred toward the sentry.
"Halt ! Who goes there ?"
"Friend."
"Dismount, friend, advance, and give the countersign."
"Haven't the countersign," said Cody, dropping from
his saddle, "but I have important information for General
Forrest ; take me to him at once."
[43]
Thrilling Lives
When Forrest heard the report he ordered Cody brought
before him.
"Well, sir," said he, ''what can I do for you?"
"You sent a man named Nat Golden into the Union
lines."
"And if I did, what then?"
"He's an old friend of mine ; he tried to reach the
Union camp to verify some information that he had re-
ceived, but before he started he left certain papers with
me in case he was captured."
"Was he captured ?" Forrest asked.
"Yes, sir ; but as I happened to know he wasn't hanged,
for these weren't on him. Golden asked me to bring
these to you." With that Cody produced the maps he had
taken from his erstwhile acquaintance.
General Forrest knew Golden's handwriting, the docu-
ments were manifestly genuine. His suspicion was not
aroused.
"These are important papers," he said. "Do you know
what thev contain?"
"Every word ; I studied them carefully, so that in case
[44]
Cody Pe^ns Escape
they were destroyed I could still give you the informa-
tion."
"Very wise thing to do; are you a soldier?"
"I have not joined the army. This uniform belongs to
Golden. I wore it to get to your lines easier. I know
this section very well — could you use me as a scout?"
"What is your name?"
"Frederick Williams," Cody answered, almost telling
the truth.
"Very well ; you may remain in camp, I'll send for you
when the time comes." Forrest called an orderly.
"Make this young man comfortable at the couriers'
camp."
"Yes, sir."
The second day after saw Cody busy. He had picked
up valuable information, had drawn maps, and was pre-
pared to make his escape at the first opportunity. For-
rest had not as yet sent for him, and the young spy re-
alized that his only mode of escape lay in taking leave
without orders, the which, most likely, being followed by
a volley of sentries' bullets.
Cody approached the General's tent and saw him talking
[451
Thrilling Lives
with a soldier. He could not see the other's face. Sud-
denly he recognized the voice.
"Nat Golden!" he muttered under his breath, turning
abruptly on his heel and making for his quarters.
"Here's a mess," Cody thought, "with Golden in camp.
I can see where the Johnnies will have a hanging party
with me as the central figure of entertainment, and that
won't do."
Quietly saddling his horse, Cody mounted and leisurely
rode toward the outpost, his gray uniform passed him
through without a challenge. He had gone a good fifty
yards and was heading for a stretch of timber; suddenly
the dull thudding of horse's hoofs caught his ear, and he
turned to see a small cavalcade bearing down upon him at
a gallop.
The spurs grated his horse's flanks as he dashed for
the timber. It was out of the frying pan into the fire.
He ran into a dozen Confederate cavalrymen guarding two
Union prisoners.
"Men, a Union spy has escaped!" shouted Cody, dash-
ing up to them. "Scatter at once and head him oflf. I'll
look after your prisoners."
[46]
Tm the Spy
Without a thought of questioning his command, the
cavalrymen scurried right and left in search of the fugi-
tive.
"Come," said Bill in a whisper to the Union soldiers,
"Fm the spy — there," cutting the ropes that bound their
wrists, "now ride for your lives!"
The Confederates soon discovered the ruse and set
after the fleeing trio in mad pursuit. It was a running
battle, bullets snipped the trees, Cody turned, taking quick
aim, brought the leader of the pursuers to the ground ; and
then gave the order for his two companions to separate.
The three men scattered to different parts of the wood.
For an hour or so the young spy spurred through woods
and open plains. The sound of pursuers ceased, and Cody
jogged leisurely along the old country road, chuckling
over his good luck.
Riding up to a farmhouse, Bill entered and asked for
food. Seated at the same table was a man dressed in
Confederate gray. The two were alone.
"You little rascal, what are you doing in those 'sesesh'
clothes ?" the tall man inquired, with a quiet laugh. Cody's
first thought was that he had been recognized. In an in-
stant his pistol flashed in view.
[47]
Thrilling Lives
"I ask the same question of you, sir/' he bravely re-
plied.
"Hush! Sit down; put that shooting iron of yours
away and have some bread and milk." It was **Wild Bill,"
one of Cody's staunchest friends, disguised as a Confed-
erate officer. After a quick luncheon, the two strolled
out.
"Billy," Wild Bill said, "I am mighty glad to see you.
What are you doing here ?"
"Scouting and getting information."
"That's exactly what I'm doing. Take these papers,
Billy, to the General ; tell him I'm digging up too much
good news to leave the Confederate camp."
"All right. When will I see you again?"
"You'll hear from me in a day or two."
They shook hands and parted.
True to his word, it wasn't long before Wild Bill and
Cody met, but in a manner that neither had counted on.
One day while both armies were drawn up in skirmish
line near Fort Scott, Kansas, two men were seen rapidly
leaving the Confederate side, dashing toward the boys
in blue. Instantly volleys were discharged from the sol-
diers in gray, who also began a pursuit and some five hun-
[48]
Don't Shoot Boys!
dred shots were fired at the fleeing men. It was evident
that the two were trying to reach the Union hnes, but
when within about a quarter of a mile the one in the lead
suddenly raised in his saddle, took quick aim, and the
other toppled to the ground to rise no more. A detach-
ment was sent out under Cody to meet the horseman and
check his pursuers. In the dim twilight it was difficult
to distinguish faces. The Confederates, on seeing the
charge made by Cody and his men, paused and, wheeling
around, rode back to their lines.
The lone horseman kept on coming. He was a Confed-
erate officer. Instantly every Union rifle came to the
shoulder, awaiting the command to fire.
"Don't shoot, boys ; it's a Union spy. It's Wild Bill !"
shouted Cody.
[49]
A''^
^
CHAPTER V.
Wild Bill's Own Story.
^IX foot two, broad chested, measuring fifty
inches around, with a waist that you could
almost span, a foot like a woman, long, blond
hair, which glistened like gold in the sun
light, and with muscles equalling any trained
athlete or prize fighter, Wild Bill Hickok was a magnifi-
cent specimen of manhood and one of the most deadly
shots with rifle or pistol that ever lived. Moreover, he
was an expert horseman, with nerves of steel and a heart
as brave as a lion.
Fiction in its wildest flights of imagination never
chronicled a more thrilling episode than that which
happened to Wild Bill — and what follows is an exact
reproduction of his own story of the McCandlass gang
fight — the greatest single-handed encounter and battle
[SI]
Thrilling Lives
ever fought — here are his exact words as told to Buffalo
Bill, shortly after the fight:
"I hardly know where to begin. I was at it for the
Union all through the war. I don't like to talk of that
McCandlass affair. It gives me a queer shiver when I
think of those ten blazing men eager, literally, to pull my
heart out and eat it. Lord, how wicked we men are
down deep!
"You see, this Jack McCandlass was the captain of a
gang of horse thieves and murderers who were the terror
of the border States. McCandlass was the biggest and
most brutal of them all. Jim McCandlass was next.. He
was Jack's brother. One day I beat him, Jack, shooting
at a mark, and then threw him, wrestling — and I didn't
drop him as softly as you would a couple of poached eggs
on toast, either — so he got savage-mad about it and swore
that he would have his revenge on me some time. That
was just before the war broke out, in April, '61, and we
were already taking sides for the South or Union. Mc-
Candlass and his gang were border ruffians in the Kansas
row, and, of course, they went with the rebs. I forgot
McCandlass, but he didn't forget me, it appears. I went
Union.
[52]
My God ! They'll Kill You !
"It was in '6i, when I was guiding a detachment of
cavalry that was coming in from Camp Floyd. We had
nearly reached the Kansas line, and were in South
Nebraska when one afternoon I went out of camp to go to
the cabin of an old friend of mine, a Mrs. Waltman. I
took only one of my revolvers with me, for although the
war had broken out I didn't think it necessary to carry
both my pistols on all occasions. In ordinary fights one
is better than two — if you shoot straight. I saw some
wild turkeys on the road as I was going down, and I
shot one, thinking it would be just the thing for Mrs.
Waltman's supper, for a wild turkey is very sweet eating.
I rode up to Mrs, Waltman's, jumped off my horse and
went into the cabin, which was like most of the cabins
on the prairie, with only one room and two doors, one
opening in front, the other to a sort of yard and pretty
garden.
" 'How are you, Mrs. Waltman ?' I said.
"The second she saw me she turned as white as a corpse
and actually screamed —
" Ts that you, Bill ? Oh, my God ! They will kill you !
Run, run, or they will chop you all to bits.'
" 'Who's going to kill me ?' I said.
[53]
Thrilling Lives
" 'It's McCandlass and his gang ! There's ten of them,
and you've no chance ! They've just gone down the road
to the corn rack! They came up here only five minutes
ago ! McCandlass was dragging poor Parson Shipley on
the ground with a lariat 'round his neck ! McCandlass
knows of you bringing in that party of Yankee cavalry
and he swears he'll cut your heart out and eat it! Run,
Bill, run, like a good boy.' I was only twenty-three, then.
'My God, you can't ! It's too late ! They're coming up
the lane and they've seen your horse !'
"All the time the poor lady was talking I was thinking
that I had only one revolver, and a load — for the turkey —
was gone out of that. On the table were a horn of powder
and some little bars of lead. I poured some powder into
the empty chamber and rammed the lead after it by
hammering the barrel on the table, and had just capped
the pistol when I heard Jack McCandlass shout: —
" 'Yes, it's that damned Yankee, Bill Hickok's, horse !
He's here ! Let's skin him alive 1'
'Tf I had thought of running before, it was then too
late. I never dreamed that I should leave that room alive.
Later something breathed on me and made me strong."
Here Hickok stopped, rose to his feet and glided back
[54]
Wild Bill Prays
and forth in great excitement. It was not acting. It
was the real thing. He seemed to have forgotten us. He
was living in the past.
"I tell you what it is, gentlemen. I don't mind a scrim-
mage with these fellows around here. Shoot one or two
of them and the rest will skedaddle like a lot of fright-
ened rats ; but all of the McCandlass gang were reckless
devils who could and would fight so long as they were
able to stand, sit, shoot, stab, punch, tear or bite. That
was one of the few times that I prayed, gentlemen. Since
then I've prayed often. Prayer is wonderful to help
out.
" 'Surround the house and give the no quar-
ter!' yelled McCandlass. When I heard that I felt as
quiet and cool as if I were going to church with my
father and mother and sisters. I looked around the room
and saw a Hawkins rifle hanging over the bed. *Is that
loaded?' I asked Mrs. Waltman.
" *Yes/ the poor thing whimpered. She was so scared
— and no wonder! — that she couldn't speak out loud. I
felt guilty to have pulled the row oflf in her cabin.
"'Are you sure?' said I, as I jumped on the bed and
caught it from its hooks. She nodded yes again. Just
[55]
Thrilling Lives
then McCandlass poked his head inside the doorway, but
jumped back when he saw me with the Hawkins in my
hands.
'* 'Come in, you dirty dog !' I shouted. My voice seemed
to me to cross the Atlantic. McCandlass was a big bully,
but not a rank coward. He jumped into the room with
two hells in his eyes, his gun almost levelled to shoot the
heart out of me, but he wasn't quick enough. The Lord
must have delayed him, and my rifle ball tore the top of
his head oflf. There was a dead silence as he fell back
through the doorway. I put down the rifle on the bed
and picked the revolver from it. Mrs. Waltman — bless
her dear soul — had disappeared through the yard. I
couldn't help inwardly smiling and saying, like an actor
in a St. Louis stage play, 'Deserted on the eve of battle
by my army !'
''Only six shots and nine men to kill ! I don't know
how it was, but something reall}^ seemed to breathe on
me just then and things seemed clear and fine and sharp.
I could think strong. There were a few seconds of that
up yonder silence, and then they came through both doors
with a rush ! How wild they looked, with their red, sin-
splashed, crime-masked faces and flaming eyes, shouting
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Wild Bill at Bay
and saying things I was glad good Mrs. Waltman didn't
hear. I never aimed more coolly in my life. One, two,
three, four — and four men were dead, not wounded. I
never wound. McCandlass made the number five. That
didn't stop the remaining five. Two of them fired their
bird guns at me and I felt fire run all over me. The room
was full of smoke. Two got close to me, their eyes burn-
ing like hell. One I knocked down with my fist. I think
I broke his jaw. The other I shot dead. The three
others crowded me onto the bed.
*T had to fight fast. I broke one man's arm. He had
his fingers round my throat and was tearing at it like a
wildcat. Then I went wild as a grizzly — some one struck
me across the breast with a rifle and I felt the blood
rush from my nose, ears and mouth. Then I got ugly,
bad, horrible, as all of them put together — cruel, crazy,
sorry that there wasn't a roomful more of them — and I
got a bowie somehow into my hand. Then it was all
clouds, smoke, flame, blood, runaway stars, breaking suns,
bursting moons, roaring seas of crimson, and as they tried
to rise I slashed at their heads with the heavy backed
bowie, chased them around the room, into corners, closed
the doors so they couldn't escape, stabbed, chopped,
[57]
Thrilling Lives
slashed breasts, arms, heads, faces, until I knew that every
man was dead twice over !'
''All of a sudden it seemed as if my heart were afire.
I was bleeding everywhere, from knees to scalp. I stag-
gered out to the well, drank from the bucket, and then
tumbled, the bucket over my head soaked with blood —
my own and theirs — and well water, over in a faint, just
like a girl."
Hickok was wounded by three bullets, eleven buck-
shot, and was cut in thirteen places. It was six months
before "Wild Bill" fully recovered from the result of
what was one of the most thrilling exploits in border his-
torv.
[58]
CHAPTER VI.
How Buffalo Bill Won His Name.
f^^^
J
'h
ml
N 1865, at the close of the war, Cody was dis-
charged with honors. He had served his
country well. He went to St. Louis and
brought to a culmination the sweetest ro-
mance of his life by marrying Miss Louisa
Frederici. For a period the scout settled down to a
quiet life and became a hotel proprietor by renting a
hostelry in Salt Creek Valley, Kansas. He was a jolly
"mine host," and it looked for a while as if the plains
would lose one of its favored sons. But the call of the
wild pleaded strongly, and once more Bill Cody donned
the buckskin.
The war had left its bitterness in many places. Cody
was to see one instance that was anything from pleasant.
Shortly after his wedding the happy pair started on a
short journey. They boarded a Missouri River steamboat
and headed for their new home in Kansas.
[59]
Thrilling Lives
"I say, Cody," one gentleman remarked, after the boat
had proceeded but a short way, *'the people on this boat
don't seem to have any too great a love for you."
Cody had noticed that several on board had pointed
their finger at him and passed remarks that he could not
plainly hear.
''What does it mean?" Cody asked. "What are they
saying? It's all a mystery to me."
"They say that you are one of the Kansas jayhawkers,
and one of Jennison's house-burners."
"I am from Kansas, that's true; and was a soldier and
scout in the Union army," Cody replied, "and I was in
Kansas during the border ruffian war of 1856. Perhaps
these people know who I am and that explains their hard
looks.''
The second day out from St. Louis the boat stopped to
wood up at a wild-looking landing. Suddenly twenty
horsemen were seen galloping through the timber, and as
they came nearer the boat they fired on the negro deck-
hands, against whom they seemed to have a special grudge.
The negroes jumped back on deck, from where they had
been throwing on wood, and pulled in the gangplank.
[60]
Cody Meets Custer
The steamer pulled out in the stream as the bushwhack-
ers appeared on the bank.
"Where is that abolition jayhawker?" shouted the
leader.
''Show him to us and we'll shoot him !" yelled another.
But by this time the boat was well out and the incident
closed. It was rather embarrassing for the newly wedded
man to meet with such a reception as this ; but he was
equal to the occasion. Telegraphing from Kansas City,
Cody had a party of his friends meet the steamer on its
arrival, and the reception they got was more than gratify-
ing to the young bride.
In 1866-67 he acted as scout at Fort Fletcher, and later
at Fort Hays. While there he met the gallant Custer for
the first time.
"Cody, I want a guide," Custer said, "to take myself
and men to Fort Larned. Can you do it?"
"Yes, sir."
"When ?"
"I am ready to start now, sir," and Cody saddled up a
big mule.
"I want to travel fast ; do you think that mule of yours
can keep up ?"
[6i]
Thrilling Lives
"General, never mind the mule," Cody replied; ''he'll
get there as soon as your horses."
For the first fifteen miles, until they came to the Smoky
Hill River, Cody had trouble in keeping his mount moving
fast enough. But soon the animal struck its gait, and
when the party reached Fort Larned, sixty-five miles
away, Cody was in the lead.
"General, how about that mule?" asked the scout, with
a smile.
"You had a better vehicle than I thought," Custer said,
laughing.
A short time after this, while the Union Pacific was
pushing its tracks westward, in the very heart of the
buflFalo country, the Indians being constantly on the war-
path, it was difficult, almost impossible, to obtain fresh
meat for the workmen.
The Messrs. Goddard Brothers had the contract for
supplying meat, and found themselves sorely pressed to
live up to its terms. It was suggested that Cody, being
a crack shot and thoroughly familiar with the plains,
might be the very man they needed, as he could kill all the
buffaloes necessary. They sent for the young man, an
offer was made him of five hundred dollars a month for
[62]
Hunt for Buffalo
all the fresh meat they would require. Cody accepted,
and the next day started on a hunt.
He rode a horse named Brigham, one that Cody be-
lieved was the shrewdest and best plainsman's animal that
ever lived. It did not take the hunter long to locate a
buffalo herd. Just as he was preparing to make a charge
a party of horsemen rode out from Fort Hays. They
proved to be some newly arrived officers from the East,
one being a Captain Graham and the others lieutenants.
"Hello, my friend," called out the Captain, "I see you
are after the same game as we are."
"Yes, sir," Cody replied. "I saw the buffaloes coming
over the hill and was just starting for some fresh meat
for the railroad men."
Cody's unassuming saddle outfit made a sad comparison
with the excellent equipment of the soldiers. His horse in
particular came in for a bit of joking. As a matter of
fact the animal in his straps did not show to the best
advantage.
"Do you expect to catch buffaloes on that nag?" asked
one.
"I hope so, by pushing the reins hard enough."
[63]
Thrilling Lives
"You'll never do it in the world, young fellow/' the
Captain said. "It takes a fast horse."
"Does it?" asked Cody innocently.
"Yes, but come along with us — we're out for pleasure
more than anything — all we want are the tongues and
tenderloins, we'll be good to you, you can have the rest,"
the Captain added generously.
"Much obliged. Captain, I'll follow you"^ — Cody had a
twinkle in his eye. About a mile away was a herd of
eleven fine buffaloes. The officers dashed ahead. Cody
took in the situation at a glance. The herd started for a
creek and the scout knew their nature well enough to
realize the difficulty of turning them from their direct
course. He sped towards the creek while the officers
closed in the rear and gave chase. The herd came crashing
by Cody not over a hundred yards away. He circled the
band and in twelve shots the entire herd was sprawled
on the blood-stained ground. He dismounted and was
examining the buffaloes when the officers came up.
"Gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues
and all the tenderloins that you wish from these carcasses,"
and Cody smiled graciously.
[64]
IRON TAIL, THE SIOUX CHIEF.
Pursued by Indians
''By Jove, that was great work," pouted the Captain.
"Who under the sun are you, anyway?"
"My name is Cody."
One of the junior officers had heard of the scout's feats
in the expeditions that had gone before, and they all shook
hands warmly, insisting that Cody return to the fort with
them for a little celebration. That very night Indians
made a raid on the horses. A detachment of colored sol-
diers under Captain Graham, with Cody as scout, started
in pursuit. Nearing sunrise he located the redskins and
just as the charge was to be made one of the negroes
in his excitement fired a gun. A dash was made but the
Indians being warned and seeing they were outnumbered
took to their horses and escaped.
Cody resumed his work as meat provider for the rail-
roaders. One day, in the Spring of 1868, he started for
Smoky Hill River, where reports had it that large herds
of buffaloes were grazing. On reaching the place he
selected a knoll from which to make a charge and was
just about ready when about half a mile away he discov-
ered a party of about thirty Indians. That he had been
seen the scout knew, as the Indians started for him on a
jTiad gallop.
[65]
Thrilling Lives
"My only chance is to make a run for it," he mused, and
wheeling his horse, started for the railroad camp. After
a few hundred yards he turned, saw them coming, and saw,
too, that they were gaining on him. Eight or nine of the
yelping devils had closed the gap to about three hundred
yards — one Indian in particular, who rode a fine spotted,
swift- footed horse, annoyed Cody by sending frequent rifle
bullets in unfriendly proximity to his head.
"That's about enough for you," thought Cody, as one
ball clipped the air near his ear. He pulled his horse up
short, swung in the saddle with rifle to shoulder ; the Indian
was eighty yards aw^ay and coming like mad.
Bang!
Down went the Indian's horse.
Cody saw the effect of his shot and spurred on. The
others were making big gains. By turning and shooting
quickly, then dashing away, Cody laid several in the dust.
The rest still kept up the chase, but Cody's horse had the
staying power and soon outdistanced the maddened red-
skins. Dashing into camp Cody secured a detachment of
fifty soldiers and started after the Indians. It was just
in time, too, as they had just overtaken one of the supply
wagons of the railroad coming from another direction.
[66]
Cody in Peril
At first fire from the soldiers the Indians retreated, only
to renew the attack a second later. The battle waged for
hours when, with a final charge by Cody and his men, the
Indians fled, leaving five of their number dead on the
plains.
And so it went from day to day. Cody was in con-
stant peril, but despite it all he stuck to the terms of his
contract in supplying meat for the railroad. It was largely
due to his sturdy efforts that the Union Pacific was able
to make the progress it did.
While hunting one day Cody met Kit Carson and his
escort. The two were fast friends and spent several days
together at Fort Hays. Cody's fame and success as a
buffalo hunter spread far and wide. There were others
that achieved success in the perilous game of buffalo hunt-
ing and each treasured his own record.
One in particular — Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide
and interpreter, then chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, Kan-
sas, had the local distinction of being the champion buffalo
hunter. There were others that thought Cody the best
shot on the plains. When the subject was mentioned to
the latter he had nothing to say, he was always modest,
but when pressed agreed to enter any sort of a competition
[67]
Thrilling Lives
that would leave no future doubts as to who was entitled
to the laurels of champion.
The officers had taken a great liking to Cody and be-
lieved that as a buffalo hunter and all-around scout, guide
and crack shot, his equal did not exist. A purse of
five hundred dollars was raised and Comstock challenged
to settle the matter of supremacy between him and Cody as
buffalo hunters. The money was to go as a side bet.
A condition of the hunt was that it should commence at
eight in the morning and close at four in the afternoon, the
winner to be considered as the champion buffalo hunter
of the world.
These details were sent to Comstock, who was at that
time known as "Buffalo Bill Comstock." This title was
also involved in the outcome of the shoot. He readily
agreed to the terms, and the event was advertised far and
wide.
A point twenty miles east of Sheridan was selected as
the place of contest. Hundreds of men and women assem-
bled on the designated day, coming from St. Louis and
many other cities.
The day broke clear and cloudless, with just enough
crisp in the air to make it invigorating. It was agreed that
[68]
CoDV's New Feiat
the men should go into the same herd at the same time,
each killing as many as possible.
Comstock was mounted on his favorite horse, Cody rode
Brigham. The referee gave the signal and the great
hunt was on. Both men spurted for the herd, Comstock
to the left and Cody to the right. Comstock got twenty-
three, Cody shot thirty-eight, the entire number in the herd
he was in. He was loudly applauded by the throng of
spectators, who had been left a half mile away, until the
charge was made, and then they closed in close to watch
the shooting.
After a short rest another herd was discovered. Com-
stock shot fourteen and Cody eighteen, making the score
fifty-six to thirty-seven in the young scout's favor.
A halt was called for lunch ; good fellowship prevailed.
With victory thus in sight and flushed with confidence,
Cody proposed a feat that was astounding.
"In the next trial, ladies and gentlemen, I will ride my
horse without saddle or bridle," he announced — and good
as his word, when the signal was given, Cody's horse had
no harnessing of any kind.
Guns popped, the hunters rode like mad, Cody cool and
deliberate, taking his shots with such skill that it evoked
[69]
Thrilling Lives
constant exclamations of wonder from the spectators. The
plains were strewn with dead buffaloes. When the final
score was announced it stood, Comstock forty-six, Cody
sixty-nine. A tremendous cheer arose, Cody was smoth-
ered with congratulations.
''Three cheers for Bill Cody," some one suggested.
"Wait — wa.k" shouted another — "let's give three for
Bill Comstock, and then three rousing ones for the greatest
hunter of them all and crown him with his new title —
now, all together — three cheers for Buffalo Bill Cody!"
[70]
CHAPTER VIL
Sheridan's Chief of Scouts.
<</
((•
VHAVE important dispatches for General
Sheridan, and my instructions from Cap-
tain Parker, commanding Fort Lamed, are
that they shall be delivered to the General
as soon as possible," announced a courier,
dust covered and fatigued from a hard ride.
'Give them to me," an officer said.
1 prefer giving them to General Sheridan myself and
at once." Sheridan was asleep at the time — an orderly
went to notify him of the courier's arrival, and it was none
other than Buffalo Bill Cody.
Shortly after the hunt in which he won his title Cody
completed his work with the railroad, supplying in all four
thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes. He then re-
turned to scout duty at Fort Larned. He had been sent on
[71]
Thrilling Lives
a mission to Fort Zarah, and completing it, started on the
return to Fort Larned on a mule.
Not a dozen miles had been covered when about forty
Indians dashed up.
"How, how," they exclaimed in friendly greeting.
"How," Cody replied, eyeing them suspiciously, noting
they wore their war paint.
"Shake hands," an Indian said.
Cody extending his in good will, it was seized with a
sudden grasp, a tightening of grip and the scout was
jerked violently forward, another grabbed the bridle and
a second later Cody was completely surrounded. Then all
grew black before him, he had been felled with the blow
of a tomahawk dealt from behind.
When he opened his eyes Cody found that he had been
carried to an Indian village. There was a council going
on and he was placed in the center of the chiefs, presided
over by Santanta, a bloodthirsty and crafty redskin. The
outlook was bad, and Cody realized it. Never for a mo-
ment did he falter in bravery, his wits collected he knew
that it was one chance in a hundred if he ever escaped,
and if he did it would not be by force but by outscheming
[72]
CoDY^s Stratagem
the Indians — just how he could not tell then, but the
chance came and he was equal for the emergency.
"Where have you been?" Santanta asked.
"After cattle," came the quick reply — it flashed through
Cody's mind that the Indians had been without meat for
some time and that in their efforts to pacify the redskins
meat had been promised them by a certain general.
Santanta was interested at once. He eagerly questioned
the scout.
"I was sent by the General" — Cody lied glibly — "to tell
you that the cattle were coming."
"Good," grunted the old rascal, then, with a frown,
"soldiers come, too?"
"Yes."
"General send cattle to us?"
"Yes, I was ordered to bring them over here" — then in
a bold tone — "why did your young men treat me so
roughly, I came here friendly to you?"
"Very sorry, all a mistake," and the wily chief smiled.
Santanta was thinking hard. He wanted the cattle, but
he did not want a fight with the soldiers.
[73]
Thrilling Lives
"I was to bring the herd to the river there so you could
get them," Buffalo Bill said with nonchalance.
"Shall I send my young men with you?"
"No, it is better for me to go alone — then the soldiers
can go right on to Fort Larned while I drive the herd
over the river for you."
Santanta, believing that Cody was telling the truth,
apologized for his unruly young men and permitted the
scout to leave the village. Cody wheeled about, spurred
his mule and rode away in the supposed direction of the
cattle. ■
All went well for a little while. He took his time in
getting away, so as not to arouse suspicion, and then,
when at a safe distance, he struck into a lively gait and
swerved from his course, heading for the fort. He had
gone but a short way when, upon looking back, saw that
ten or twelve Indians were following him. They saw him
turn, and in a flash realized that they had been hoaxed,
started in pursuit. The chase continued until within a few
miles of the fort, when finally Cody spied a government
wagon with soldiers.
"Into the brush, quick!" shouted Cody, "Indians
coming."
[74]
For Gen'l Sherman
The team was driven among the trees and hidden. A
sharp turn had made the hiding successful from the In-
dians. It wasn't a long wait before the redskins thundered
along. Two of them passed the hiding place.
"Give it to 'em," commanded Cody.
Others had come up in the meantime and four feathered
warriors toppled to the dust at first fire. Finally Buffalo
Bill popped another from his horse, then realizing that
they had been ambushed, the other Indians turned and
fled. The scalps were taken along with their arms and
equipment by Cody and soldiers. The next morning San-
tanta with his entire force surrounded the fort.
"Cody, the captain is anxious to send dispatches to Gen-
eral Sheridan at Fort Hayes," one of the officers said,
"and none of the men are willing to go, will you tackle it?"
"It's a risky trip, the country is full of hostile Indians,"
Cody replied, "but if no other scout is willing to volunteer
I'll chance it. Give me a good horse and I'll start at dusk."
A terrific rainstorm gathered in the later afternoon. By
six o'clock it was impossible to see a dozen rods ahead.
This added further peril to the undertaking which none
would risk except brave Cody.
[75]
Thrilling Lives
"Good-bye, Bill, and good luck," was the parting saluta-
tion that greeted the scout's ears. He groped his way
slowly. Only once during the night was he in real danger,
and then he ran into an Indian outpost watching the vil-
lage. The redskin had fallen asleep and Cody was on
him in a flash. A heavy blow from Cody's rifle butt laid
the Indian unconscious. He could just as easily have killed
him, but it was not Cody's way of doing. It might be said
here that in all the bloody times that Buffalo Bill went
through, he never took a redman's life except to save his
own. ^
Cody got away without being seen or heard by those in
the village. It was a sixty-mile grind. He reached Gen-
eral Sheridan's headquarters just at sunrise.
''Hello Cody, is that you !" greeted Sheridan, coming
from his room.
"Yes, sir — I have some dispatches here for you from
Captain Parker."
Sheridan read the papers carefully, and then Cody re-
lated his experiences of the day previous.
"Bill," Sheridan said, "you must have breakfast with
[76]
Greeted by Sheridan
me. That was a good joke you played on Santanta. You
have had a long, hard ride and must be tired."
"A httle weary, General."
"Come, have breakfast with me."
"Thank you sir, but I think I'll ride over to Hayes City,
it's only a mile, and I have some friends there."
"Very well, but come back, as I want to see you before
you return to the fort."
A short visit, a hearty meal and after handshaking
around and a brief nap, Cody returned to headquarters and
was about ready to leave for Fort Larned. Several scouts
were gathered around headquarters and talking excitedly.
"What's the matter?" asked Cody.
"The General w^ants some one to carry dispatches to
Fort Dodge."
"That's about a ninety-five mile trip and a long one, too,"
Cody mused to himself, walking in to see the General as
he had been requested.
They had been talking a few minutes when the chief
of scouts entered. "General," he said, "no one has vol-
unteered to go to Fort Dodge."
"Very well," Sheridan replied, with just a trace of a
frown.
\77\
Thrilling Lives
''General, if no one will volunteer I'll carry your dis-
patches myself."
''I had not thought of asking you to do this duty, Cody,"
the General responded, evidently pleased and in surprise,
"as you are already pretty hard worked, but it is really
important that these dispatches should go through."
**If you don't get a courier by four o'clock, I'll be ready
at that time," Cody answered. "All I want is a fresh
horse, meantime I'll take a little more rest."
Four o'clock came, but no volunteers.
"General, I'm ready," Cody said, presenting himself to
Sheridan.
"Good luck go with you, my boy."
The trip proved uneventful except for the hardship it
entailed on the already worn-out courier. He arrived at
Fort Dodge a little after nine next morning. The com-
manding officer there had dispatches for Fort Larned,
but, as before, no one cared to volunteer on the long, hard
and dangerous ride. Cody again came to the front.
"Give me a fresh horse and I'll carry them for you,"
he said.
"I am sorry, but we haven't a decent horse here, but we
[78]
Danger-bestrewn Trip
have a reliable and honest government mule, if that will
do you."
"Trot out your mule, that's good enough ; I'm ready to
start at any time."
At dark the scout was on his way for Fort Larned.
Thirty miles out he dismounted at a creek to drink. He
had neglected to tie the lariat from the mule's bridle to
his belt and the animal jerked loose, started down the
creek at a trot. Try as he might, Cody could never over-
take tlie beast. He coaxed and threatened to no advan-
tage, and stranger yet, the mule struck the trail for Fort
Larned and kept to it with the maddened scout walking on
behind. Mile after mile this kept up.
When day broke Cody was plodding on behind the jog-
ging mule. "Damn your tantalizing hide, take that," and
a ball from Cody's rifle brought the recalcitrant mule to
sorrow.
Continuing on, Cody walked to the Fort, where he de-
livered his messages, secured a new mount and the morn-
ing after reported back to General Sheridan. Altogether
he had ridden and walked three hundred and fifty-five
miles within fifty-eight riding hours, a long and danger-
bestrewn trip.
[791
Thrilling Lives
"Cody," General Sheridan said, after warmly compli-
menting him on his remarkable feat, "the Fifth Cavalry
is going on an expedition against the Dog Soldier Indians
— in recognition of your good and faithful work, I hereby
appoint you as guide and chief of scouts with the com-
mand."
[80]
A TYPICAL COWBOY AND HIS CHARGER.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Battle of Summit Springs.
ALF-PAST nine and all's well," rang a sen-
try's voice. Then there was a pause, the
outpost next made no sound. "What the
divil's the matter wid that other sentry?"
asked an Irish sergeant of the Fifth Cavalry,
"why don't he answer?"
Fully ten minutes went by and still no sound. The
sergeant mounted his horse and rode cautiously along the
river bank to investigate. There was a rustle in the brush,
then he heard the tread of the sentry. The sergeant
called out, "Hallo there, why didn't ye answer the call?"
and still getting no response, rode on over to where the
sentry stood. It was one of the Pawnee Indians that had
joined the expedition as scouts, under Major Frank
North. There were several companies of them, and on ac-
count of their excellent work they had been enrolled in the
[8i]
Thrilling Lives '
regular army and assigned to many of the white soldiers'
duties.
That the Pawnees, who were the deadly enemies of the
Sioux, were splendid warriors and rendered invaluable
aid to the Fifth Cavalry was apparent, and at the same
time it was equally apparent that the Pawnees had a hard
time to master the English language and grow accustomed
to the usages and routine of the regular army.
"Hey, there, ye divil," exclaimed the sergeant, "why
didn't you answer that call. That's what you're out here
for, when we hear ye say 'all's well,' we know that the
enemy isn't at hand."
"Me forget — very hard for me to do that," answered
the Pawnee scout.
"See that you don't forget again — say something when
the sentry next to you passes the word. Don't forget,
now," and the sergeant rode away.
Half an hour later the sentry cried :
"Post number one, ten o'clock, and all's well."
A minute's pause and then in no certain tones the
Pawnee shouted:
"Poss number half-pass five cents — go to hell — I don't
care."
[82]
Pawnees on Parade
There was a rumble of laughter from the men. The
system was found impractical, and the Pawnee scouts
were thereafter relieved from sentry duty. This was not
the only laugh that the hard-fighting Pawnees gave their
white soldier friends. While the Fifth Cavalry was at
Fort McPherson awaiting the completing of its equipment,
a general dress parade was ordered, and the Indian scouts
were in their glory. It was the first opportunity that they
had had to display themselves in the full regalia of a
soldier of Uncle Sam. When the bugle sounded for the
review the Pawnees appeared dressed as if for a scene in
comic opera. Some of them had on their heavy overcoats,
others large black hats, with all the brass accoutrements
attached. Others wore the regulation pants but had no
shirts and were bareheaded. Others again had the seat of
the pants cut out, leaving only leggings; some of them
wore brass spurs, but had on no boots or moccasins.
Despite all this, they were good soldiers, hard riders,
crack shots and desperate fighters. The order was given
and the command moved on up the Republican River. The
next morning shots were heard along with the whoops
of Indians in the vicinity of the mule herd which had been
taken down to water.
[83]
Thrilling Lives
''Indians are there!" shouted a herder as he staggered
into camp with an arrow sticking in his shoulder.
Cody was mounted in a second, and followed by a band
of the Pawnees, made for the watering place. It took
only a few seconds of fighting to disperse the attacking
party. A running fight of fifteen miles was engaged in,
resulting in several of the marauding Indians being killed.
It was during the chase that Buffalo Bill, mounted on one
of the fleetest of horses, was overtaken and passed by a
Pawnee, who was riding one of the swiftest animals that
Cody had ever seen. After the fight Bill swapped his
horse, some tobacco and other trinkets and secured the
Indian's horse, which he named ''Buckskin Joe." •
The Pawnees had been sent out to kill fresh meat and
soon had a herd of buffaloes surrounded, there were
twenty Indians in the party, and in all they killed thirty
animals. Just then another herd hove in sight, Cody
dashed away and in a very short time had strewn thirty-
six bison along a half mile of prairie single handed. The
Indians after this held the scout in the very highest esteem.
The command moved on up the Republican River. In-
dian tracks were found which Cody discovered were made
by the Sioux. He was sent out with a small party of
[84]
Sound the Charge!
Pawnees to try to locate the band. The day after Buffalo
Bill came on fresh tracks and was astounded upon close
examination to discover the Imprints of a woman's shoe.
Word was sent to General Carr. Orders were issued for
a forced march.
Cody was then about ten miles in advance of the army.
He saw that he was nearing the village of the Indians,
and sent word back for extreme caution to be exercised.
Keeping the command wholly out of sight until it was
within a mile of the Indian village, Carr commanded the
soldiers to close up, and at his order make a dash for the
village.
"Sound the charge," General Carr called out — but the
bugler was struck dumb with fear at the sight of hun-
dreds of Indians. Again the General issued the order,
but the bugler could get no command of his hps.
'I'll do it," shouted Quartermaster Hays, seizing the
bugle, sounding the charge, tossing the horn aw^ay and
grasping a revolver in each hand, sprang out with the
leader.
The Indians had just driven up their horses and were
preparing to break camp w^hen they heard the bugle notes
and saw the soldiers rushing down upon them. Many
[85]
Thrilling Lives
succeeded in getting to their ponies and fled in precipitate
haste, others leaving everything behind in the camp ad-
vanced out of the village, and with true Sioux determina-
tion prepared to meet the attacking party of whites.
On came the soldiers, yelling and shooting, they stopped
for nothing, but plunging straight through the camp they
left a trail of dead and wounded on every side. Buffalo
Bill was engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict, when above
the din and roar of battle he heard a woman scream. A
quick thrust with his knife and his Indian antagonist
rolled to the ground writhing in agony. Cody broke for
the teepee whence the screams came. He reached there
just in time to save one of the white captives from being
tomahawked by the squaw of Tall-Bull.
The captive, though badly wounded, told that she and
another woman had been taken prisoners after the Indians
had robbed and killed all the male whites of a settlement
not far away. The other woman had been slain by the
squaw just as the soldiers entered the village.
By orders of General Carr, all the effects of the Indians
were burned, the injured woman was taken under care
by the surgeons. Cody rode on to reconnoiter. The Sioux
were not long in gathering together their scattered forces
[86]
Cody Kills Chief
and returned to battle the whites. Buffalo Bill was on the
skirmish line and in the hottest part of the fight. One
Indian in particular seemed to be the chief and it was the
following out of his orders that led to disaster for the
soldiers. Cody determined to put a stop to his career. Dis-
mounting from his horse the brave scout crept to a ravine
where he could command a better view, though placing
himself in greater peril.
The chief dashed by and yelled commands in his lan-
guage. Cody could understand enough to let him know
that the chief was urging his people to make it a do-or-die
affair, and just then the scout's rifle cracked. The Indian
rolled to the dirt. He had been mounted on an excellent
horse which, as soon as he was riderless, in place of turning
back to the Indians, made straightway for the soldiers and
was captured. In token of the shot he had made the
horse was presented to Buffalo Bill. The fallen Indian
proved to be Tall Bull, one of the most wicked of all
the Sioux chiefs.
That ended the battle. For his noble work General Carr
received a vote of thanks, as did Buffalo Bill, from the
Legislatures of both Nebraska and Colorado. Not long
after this Buffalo Bill met for the first time Col. E. B. C.
[87]
Thrilling Lives
Judson, known better as Ned Buntline, a famous writer.
Buntline became very much interested in the great scout,
effects of which were to manifest themselves at a later
date. In the Spring of 1871 General Emory, who was
then in command of Fort McPherson, called Cody to his
quarters.
''Cody, there has been so much petty deviltry going on
in this neighborhood that I want it stopped," he said,
"and the best way that I knew was to get an appointment
for you as justice of the peace."
"General, you compliment me too highly," Cody replied,
blushing; "I don't know anything more about law than a
government mule does about bookkeeping."
"That doesn't make any difference," he said, "you will
make a good squire."
And so he did. For several weeks he busied himself
with the various things that came to him under his new
routine of duties. Finally he was called upon to perform
a marriage ceremony. The bridegroom was one of the
sergeants of the company. This was a stunner to the
scout. He looked through all the available books at hand
to find the mode of procedure, but nothing came to his
rescue. Finally he picked up the "Statutes of the State
[88]
"-^'^m
THE ILLUSTRIOUS LIFE OF BUFFALO BILL.
From Original Sketches.
Cody a "Marrying Parson"
of Nebraska," thinking possibly somewhere there he would
find instruction — he looked in vain. The time approached
for the wedding and nothing daunted, Cody determined to
do the very best he could.
"Do you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" he
said bravely, when the pair stood before him, "and prom-
ise to support and love her through life ?"
"I do," was the reply.
Then he repeated the question to the young woman ; she
answered in a manner that was satisfactory.
"Then join hands — I now pronounce you to be man and
wife, and whomsoever God and Buffalo Bill have joined
together let no man put asunder. May you live long and
prosper. Amen."
L891
t
CHAPTER IX.
Entertains Royalty at Buffalo Hunt.
'BOUT the first of January, 1872, General
Forsyth journeyed to Fort McPherson to
make preparations for a big buffalo hunt
at which the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia
was to be the chief guest of honor. Cody in-
formed him that there were plenty of buffaloes in the
vicinity, especially on the Red Willow, sixty miles away.
Buffalo Bill was commissioned by the representatives of
General Sheridan, who was arranging the hunt, to visit
Spotted Tail's camp, one of the Sioux warriors,
located somewhere on Frenchman's Fork, nearly a
hundred and fifty miles from Fort McPherson. The pur-
pose of the visit was to induce about a hundred of the
Indian warriors and chiefs to come to the Grand Duke's
camp, so that the latter could see the Indians and observe
the manner in which they killed buffaloes.
[91] •
Thrilling Lives
Cody guided, the party to Red Willow with a small
escort of armed men, and left them there while he pro-
ceeded alone. The weather was very cold, there was
more or less danger from the Indians, for although Spotted
Tail himself was friendly, it might prove a dangerous
task to enter the camp. As he had during the past few
years made many enemies among the Sioux in the differ-
ent battles, there was a possibility of meeting them at
any time.
From fresh horse tracks and the dead buffaloes lying
here and there, Cody knew that he was nearing Spotted
Tail's camp. He rode on a few miles farther, then hiding
his horse in a low ravine, crawled up a high hill Where he
had a good view of his surroundings. P^our or five miles
straight ahead he saw a number of Indian ponies and
knew that the camp must be near by. Waiting until night-
fall, he mounted and rode into the camp unobserved.
Cody wrapped a blanket around his head, leaving just
enough room to see, and rode around until he found the
chief's tent, then dismounting threw back the flap and en-
tered. He was cordially greeted. Spotted Tail, when he
knew the request came from General Sheridan, accepted
the invitation.
[92]
Meets Grand Duke
Next murning the chiefs and warriors were assembled
according to orders, and to them was stated the object of
the scout's visit.
"Do you know who this man is?" asked Spotted Tail,
pointing to Cody.
"Yes, we know him well," replied one, "that is Pa-he-
haska (which means long hair in the Sioux language),
that is our old enemy."
"That is he," returned Spotted Tail," I want all our
people to be kind to him and treat him as my friend."
Cody returned to Red Willow. Great preparations were
being made for the hunt. Everything was finally in readi-
ness, when on the morning of January 12, 1872, the Grand
Duke and his suite arrived at North Platte by special train,
Cody and a delegation of soldiers were at the train to
meet them.
"Cody," General Sheridan said, "this is the Grand
Duke Alexis. I am going to ask you to take charge of
him, and show how you kill buffaloes." General Custer
was one of the party that witnessed the war dance given by
the Indians that night. Morning broke with a fine sun
shining warmly. Just as the party were about to start
[93]
Thrilling Lives
for the hunting grounds some one came up to Cody and
said that Mr. Thompson did not have a horse.
"What Thompson?" asked Cody.
"Why, Mr. Frank Thompson, v^ho has charge of the
Duke's train."
Cody had following him "Buckskin Joe," his celebrated
war horse. This animal was not a very prepossessing
thing to look at. He was buckskin in color, and rather a
sorry-looking animal, but was known all over the fron-
tier as the greatest long-distance and best buffalo horse
living. Cody had never allowed anyone but himself to
ride this horse, but as he had none other there at the time
he ordered it bridled and saddled, and told Mr. Thompson
he could ride him until another could be secured.
This horse looked so different from the beautiful ani-
mals that the rest of the party were supplied with that
Thompson thought it rather discourteous to mount him in
such fashion. As Thompson rode past the wagons and
the ambulances he noticed the teamsters pointing at him,
and thinking they were guying him, he rode up to one of
them.
"Am I not riding this horse all right?" he asked.
[94]
({•
^(^
({•^
«1
Better Try Mine
Thompson felt some personal pride in his horsemanship
ability.
'Yes, sir," the driver replied, *'you are riding all right."
'Well, then," Thompson said, "it must be the horse
that you men are guying."
"Guying that horse!" the teamster exclaimed in sur-
prise. "Not in a thousand years." •
'Well, then, why am I such a conspicuous object?"
'Why, sir, aren't you the king?"
"The king — why do 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 of course that you were the
king, for that horse, sir, is Buckskin Joe."
Thompson felt relieved, and afterwards thanked Cody
for the honor of allowing him such a mount.
It was planned that the Grand Duke was to have the
first shot. The nobleman elected to use his pistol. At the
first sight of the herd the Russian galloped at them, firing
six times without scoring a hit.
"Better try mine," Cody suggested, handing over his
revolver. But the next six shots went as before, and Cody
[95]
Thrilling Lives
seeing that the herd would get away from them rode to
the Duke's side.
"Take my rifle and Til give you the word when to
shoot." The nobleman was now mounted on Buckskin
Joe, and as he took the gun Cody swatted the animal,
Joe gave a jump and took the Duke to the buffaloes'
side.
"Now's your time," shouted Buffalo Bill, and the Rus-
sian fired, killing his first buffalo. Afterwards, on the re-
turn to camp, Alexis shot a buffalo with his pistol ; it was
either a remarkably good shot or a scratch, but none of
the party cared which, and the Duke was given a rousing
cheer.
One day the Duke asked Cody to get the Indians out
for a buffalo hunt. Spotted Tail selected several of his
best hunters, armed them with bows and arrows and had
them surround a herd, bringing the animals down with
arrows and also lances.
'T will show you a remarkable shot," Cody said a second
later, calling upon an Indian named Two Lance to do one
of the most difficult feats that has ever been accom-
plished with bow and arrow. The Indian rode into the
herd and with string pulled tight sent an arrow straight
[96]
r ^
-> ■
T
heFAMOUS GENERALSoftheU.S.ARMY
BUFFALO BILL
Thrilling Stage Drive
through a buffalo's body. The arrow was given to the
Duke as a souvenir. Buffalo Bill astounded the Royal
party by his own expertness with rifle and pistol.
"Get in here, Cody," General Sheridan said on the
way back, ''and show the Duke how you can drive a stage
coach." It was a thrilling run with the General and his
royal friend hanging on all the time.
"How was that?" the Duke was asked when the horses
came to a stop.
"Very fine, but I prefer to go a little slower," he re-
plied smiling.
The hunt had been a great success and Buffalo Bill was
warmly complimented by General Sheridan.
"By the way, Bill," Sheridan said, "you have an invita-
tion from several of the gentlemen who were on the hunt
with us at Hays City, to visit New York; you will never
have a better time than now. Write a letter to General
Stage, of Chicago, and he will send you a pass. I have
had a talk with General Ord and he will give you a leave
of absence whenever you are ready to start."
"Thank you, General."
General Ord granted the leave readily, and as Buffalo
Bill was stepping out of the room he said :
[97]
Thrilling Lives
"Cody, how would you like a commission in the regular
army? General Sheridan and I have been talking the
matter over and it can be arranged for you without any
trouble."
"I am much obliged, General, but I guess just being a
plain scout is good enough for me."
Cody was received in the East with open arms ; he was
a guest of honor at many homes, and time flew by very
rapidly. It was the first trip East, but his reputation had
preceded him, he was the cynosure of all eyes, and mightily
embarrassed to be stared at from morning until night.
Among the entertainments prepared for the great scout
was an invitation to a very exclusive masked ball. The
very best of society was there. Its brilliance dazzled
Cody.
"What did you think of that?" he was asked the next
day.
"Reminds me of an Indian war-dance," he naively
replied.
It was on this occasion that he visited the theatre for
the first time. The play on the boards was a border drama
called "Buffalo Bill." As soon as the audience recognized
[98]
We Need You !
him sitting in a box, there was a shout and cheers and
calls for a speech.
'Til give you five hundred dollars if you will play the
leading role," the manager said.
"Not on your life," blushed the bashful Cody. At tha^
time he would rather have faced a thousand warriors on
the plains than gone on the stage before all those people.
A few days after Cody met General Sheridan.
"Bill, are you having a good time?"
"Say, General, this is the best camp I ever struck — my
furlough is about up; couldn't you extend it about ten
days ?"
"Yes, gladly; but after that Cody, you must get back
to Fort McPherson, there is to be an expedition sent out
and we will need you there."
[99J
^OQ^j^oa
CHAPTER X.
Pawnee Billys Boyhood Days.
AY, are you Trapper Tom Evans?"
''Yes, young fellow, what do you wantr^'
the other answered coldly.
"Just to tell you that I am going to work
for you."
"The deuce you say."
"When do I begin ?"
"By thunder I like your nerve, never saw you in my
life before and now you just make up your mind to go to
work for me without asking any one's permission.
Where'd you come from?"
"Ran away from home."
"How did you get down here in Oklahoma?"
"Walked most of the way."
"What for?"
t(
Looking for work."
[lOl]
Thrilling Lives
"What's your name?"
"Gordon W. Lillie."
"Can you shoot?"
"Some."
"Ride?"
"Some."
"Got any grit?"
"Some."
"Alright, we'll try you out."
Gordon was at this time a lad of seventeen, of
sturdy figure, frank in manner, sharp blue eyes, and a chin
that stood for determination. He was born in Blooming-
ton, Illinois, February 14, 1860. Newton W. Lillie, his
father, owned one of the largest flour mills in the city and
was very prosperous. Gordon received a high school edu-
cation. The family had planned that the lad was one day
to go into the mill and eventually succeed to the business.
But the youngster had plans of his own, he was just in the
impressionable age and he did what most high-spirited self-
willed young men would have done under the circum-
stances. He ran away from home.
Tales of the West had inspired fanciful dreams of easily
gotten wealth and it was quest of that rather than a
[102]
Runs Away
bloodthirsty desire to fight Indians that prompted Gordon
W. LilHe to hazard Fate in unknown lands.
Just about this time the father conceived the plan of
moving to Kansas and erecting there the first flour mill in
the southeastern part of the state. With his wife, Susan
Ann Lillie, one son, Albert, and two daughters, Newton
Lillie started for the south. From Bloomington the
journey was made by train to Wichita and then to Well-
ington by wagon.
''Mother," Gordon said when alone with her, "I am not
going with you and the family."
"My son," exclaimed she in surprise, *'you must not be
foolish, come,"
**No, mother, I am going to strike out for myself, and
see if I can't make my way alone."
The mother pleaded in vain for a long time, then seeing
that the lad was determined and knowing his nature con-
sented to his leaving.
"Promise me, Gordon," she said, "that no matter where
you are or what you are doing, that you will always think
first of me and whether I would be proud of your under-
taking. Promise me that you will think twice before you
act, that you will always help the weak, be generous with
[103]
Thrilling Lives
those that are deserving, avoid trouble. You are going
into strange lands, you will be a stranger, you will find
temptations of all kinds, do not gamble and do not drink.
Do you promise?"
''1 do, mother."
Gordon a few days after loitered along the main street
in Wichita ; it suited his fancy, there were cowboys, gam-
blers and the motley throng incident to border towns in the
early days.
For a week the experiences he was injected into inter-
ested him, it was something new, something out of the rut
of home life, and for the first time he commenced to realize
that he was thrown on his own resources, that he had his
own battle to fight. He made friends quickly. His jovial
good nature installed him as a general favorite.
''Hello son, you look lonesome," a burly cowpuncher
said one night as Lillie was watching a play at cards in
the "Good Luck" gambling house, ''have a drink."
"Never touch it."
"Come on have a drink I say," and the bully edged close
to him, "you tenderfeet can't learn to be men any younger ;
hurry up, barkeeper, give Mother's baby a drink. I'm
going to make a man of him."
[ 104 ] '
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Meets Desperado
It might bcMioted here, that to refuse the hospitality
such as was offered, constituted about as deadly an insult
as could be given. Of course, Gordon did not know this
or if he did he didn't care.
''Go on Kid, humor him," whispered a bystander "take
a drink."
Before LilHe had a chance to move one way or the
other, the drunken cowboy dealt him a terrific blow in the
face. Gordon caught himself on the bar railing, steadied
for a moment and then planted his fist square on the cow-
boy's nose.
The latter reeled and tumbled to the floor senseless.
"Holy smoke, Kid run, he'll kill you," yelled the bar-
tender.
"I guess not," calmly replied Lillie, adjusting his coat.
"Come on get away before he comes to, don't you know
who that is?" pointing to the figure on the floor*, now
slowly moving in a struggle to regain his feet.
"No, and I don't give .a damn, I guess if there is to be
any education of tenderfeet around here I'll take a hand
in the teaching."
"Got a gun?"
"No."
[105]
Thrilling Lives
"Take this one and look out, you're a game boy, but
you're going against a tough proposition when you snag
'gainst Trigger Jim.' "
Lillie shoved the gun back as the cowboy was getting to
his feet.
''What in hell fell on me," muttered Trigger Jim, wip-
ing the blood from his face, then seeing LilHe, **oh, yes,
it was you wasn't it," and reached for his pistol. Gordon
was too quick, he pounced on him like a panther, both
rolled to the floor, a smashing thud and Trigger lay quiet.
"Guess he'll be good now for a while," mused Lillie.
With the first sign of the struggle, the gambling stopped,
one or two of the players ducked behind the tables, others
used the stove as a shield to protect them from the bullets
that everyone expected to see fly when Trigger Jim got up
the first time. He was a genuine bad man.
"Say sonny you're alright, but take my tip and scoot,
that fellow is a bad actor and you're made of too good
stuflF to carry a pound or so of his lead around in your
hide as a souvenir."
Gordon listened to the well-intentioned advice.
"Any way," he mused going through the doors, "guess
I don't want too much excitement for a starter. This town
[io6]
LiLLiE Won't Gamble
seems to be able to accommodate a fellow with most any
kind of trouble he isn't looking for."
He jogged down the street. The whole town was in a
buzz, every second building was a saloon and gambling
house. Men of all creeds and classes jostled each other,
beneath every coat on the right hand side rearwards was
the usual hump that bespoke a shooting iron, and there
were many with notched handles. It was too early to go
to bed. He strolled into another saloon, walked over to a
faro table and sat down to watch the play. It was exciting
and the hum and whirr of it all suited the lad to a dot.
Stacks of money were seen everywhere, gold and silver
in more quantities than he ever dreamt existed. The dealer
was called Lame Bill, a wheezened old man with only one
eye. He nodded to LilHe.
"Want a stack ?"
"No, never play."
Several of the gamblers looked up, one or two laughed
and the play went on.
"What do those dealers make a day ?" Gordon asked an
onlooker.
"Eight to ten dollars, some of 'em get more when the
boss aint looking."
'Pretty risky stealing aint it?"
[107]
<<■
Thrilling Lives ,
"Sometimes — if they get caught — Old Bill there is
dead square — he ain't got enough education to be crooked.
Have a drink?"
"No thanks, just had one." Gordon smiled to him-
self. He sat there for an hour, the heat, the tobacco smoke
and the liquor fumes made him drowsy. He fell asleep.
Suddenly there was a crash and loud swearing. Gordon
awoke with a start. All was in confusion, the play had
stopped, men scurried under cover. Several pistol shots
rang out. From where he was behind the stove Gordon
could not see the front part of the saloon.
"What's happened," he asked a fellow crouching beside
him.
"Shut up," the other whispered. "It's Trigger Jim
fuller than a beer keg and he's looking for some one."
It didn't take Lillie long to figure out the object of the
ruffian's search. He sat quiet.
"Where is he, that infernal young tenderfoot?" roared
Jim.
"He ain't here, Jim," declared the bartender from a
safe hiding place behind a pile of barrels, "he went out
five minutes ago." |
"It's a lie, he thinks he can lick me, I'll show him, I'll |
[ io8 ]
Jim's Girl Pleads
show you all there ain't no man living what can lick
Trigger Jim."
Bang ! bang, and the bullets from the maddened cow-
boy's pistol shattered the back bar mirror. No one stirred.
Trigger was too well known, his aim was too quick and
deadly for anyone to foolishly try to pacify him in his
frenzy. The crowd figured that when he had given vent
to his spleen he would leave. Just then a woman opened
the doors. It was Jim's girl.
"Come on home, Jim," she urged.
"Shut up, I'll come home when I get good and ready."
The woman stood still in the doors and looked at him
pleadingly.
"Get out I say or Til throw you out," raged the drunken
cowboy, lurching toward her with unsteady step.
"Jim you're crazy drunk, come on home."
"Drunk am I ? Crazy am I ? Take that," swinging his
clenched fist at the woman's head. She fell in a heap and,
unbalanced by the momentum of his blow, he tumbled to
the floor beside her. He struggled to his feet. LilHe had
watched the brutal assault, no one raised a hand to help
the woman. Lillie was at the cowboy's side in a second.
"That don't go, you cur," he said, kicking the pistol from
[ 109 ]
Thrilling Lives
Jim's hand. "No hitting women when I'm around," and
as the cowboy rose Lillie dealt him a smacking blow, send-
ing him half way across the room.
"Boys, take care of the woman, and when that bully
comes to, tell him that I'll pull his nose the next time I
see him."
The crowd was struck dumb with amazement. Not a
word was spoken as he pushed through the swinging
doors.
"Guess if I want to keep out of really thrashing some
one to-night I'd better go to bed," and suiting action to
the word, undressed and was soon fast asleep. Shortly
before daybreak there was a loud knocking on his door.
"Who's there V'
"It's Pete, the landlord, open up quick." As soon as
Gordon let him in, he continued, "Say Kid, you've got
yourself hooked up to a bunch of trouble."
"What's the matter ?"
"Trigger Jim has been gunning for you all night — says
he's going to kill you on sight — some one told him that
you were stopping here. Get up and get out quick, it's
your only chance."
[no]
Aim Straight
"He's bluffing, I licked him twice last night, he don't
want any more."
''I tell you he's sober now, the last punching you gave
him did it, he ain't used to be licked by anyone and it hurt
his pride."
**I guess his nose too," and Lillie smiled.
"He means business this time Kid, you'd better get away
while you can." Just then angry talking was heard down
stairs.
"Let me at him, it's him or me this time, I'll shoot at
sight.''
There was no mistaking, Jim's voice or the sincerity of
his intention. Gordon dressed in a second.
"Got a gun?" asked Pete.
"No."
"Take mine, slip out the back way, when you see him
shoot, or he'll get you," and added Pete, "do the town a
good turn by aiming straight, now go."
It didn't take the news long to spread that there was to
be a shooting match. They all knew Trigger Jim's ability
and from what they had seen of Lillie the night before
they had good reason to believe that the youngster wasn't
going to run away. In times like this everyone found it
[III]
Thrilling Lives
safer to remain until one or the other got his man. If the
inward well wishes of the town counted for anything
Gordon went doubly armed.
"By thunder," he said to himself, "things are moving
lively for me, I come for work and get astraddle a bunch
of trouble that would nearly make a fellow quit, and here
this chap is insisting on decorating a grave with my body.
Guess it looks like business this time." Quickly examining
the revolver and testing it he turned the corner, gun in one
hand, his coat in the other. It was not yet daylight, a
heavy mist gathered and deepened the slow breaking dawn.
It was difficult to see more than a hundred feet ahead.
Keen-eyed and ears alert Lillie started up the street. Sud-
denly a head popped around the corner and then jerked
back again.
"As I thought," he muttered, "any man that strikes a
woman is a coward, this fellow isn't going to fight in the
open."
A pistol hammer clicked.
Then a dead silence.
Lillie stopped, he could hear Jim breathing. He was
waiting for the youngster to reach the corner. Gordon
m^de up his own mind quickly.
[112]
THE LATE KING EDWARD VII.
In the Wild West Camp at Olympia, London, England.
PUtLIC LIWAKY
The Duel
He walked straight ahead, until within ten feet of the
corner, then coughed, and threw his coat straight ahead,
it passed the corner where Jim was lying in wait.
Bang, and a flash of flame spurted from Jim's pistol.
The ruse worked.
"I got you, you little pup," yelled Jim jumping out in the
open as he saw the coat fall.
Then seeing how he had been tricked, wheeled and fired
point blank at Lillie. Two shots rang out at the same in-
stant. Trigger Jim pitched headlong to the street. LiUie
wiped a trickle of blood from his own ear which had been
creased by Jim's bullet.
Within a few seconds after the shooting the crowd col-
lected, they found Gordon bending over Jim's dead body.
"Guess he's dead, boys; sorry, but I had to do it."
"Gentlemen," the sheriff said, who had in the meantime
arrived, and heard the entire story, "the first twelve of you
men there step forward, rest of you stand back. That's it
now, gentlemen of the jury this young feller here has just
pulled a killing on Trigger Jim. Is he guilty or not
guilty?"
"Not guilty," came the answer in one accord.
[113]
Thrilling Lives
"Thank you men, the jury is discharged," the sheriff
said, "some of you fellers dig a hole back yonder and do
a little planting, guess where Jim's gone it won't do no
good to have the preacher do his spiel." Then turning to
Lillie, "Young feller you're alright, shake."
The crowd dispersed. Gordon went to the boarding
house, packed up his things and left. He struck out for
Indian Territory on foot, a walk of a hundred and sixty
miles south. Being unfamiliar with the lay of the country
he mistook the trail and found himself on the bottom lands
which had overflowed from the Kansas River. He was
often compelled to walk through water varying from knee
to hip deep.
It was on the second day out that he met Trapper Tom
Evans and his party. Working with them appealed more
to Lillie than to continue his hard walk.
"What happened to your ear?" asked Trapper Tom,
"it's bleeding."
"Oh, just scratched it," Gordon replied, "on a briar
brush."
[114]
CHAPTER XL
Buffalo Bill as an Actor.
URING the Fall of 1872, Buffalo Bill
received many letters from Ned Buntline,
whom it will be recalled met the great
scout some time previous during a hunt of
the plains. Buntline had been very success-
ful as a magazine writer.
"Come East, Cody," he wrote, "I'll make an actor out of
you. There's money in it, you'll prove a big success."
Cody had only recently been elected to the Legislature
and was just settling down in a comfortable home. His
friends with whom he spoke about venturing on the stage
urged him against it. But Buntline was persistent, and
finally Buffalo Bill capitulated. He sent for Texas Jack,
one of his friends and a noted scout. They left for
Chicago amid the good will and misgivings of many
friends. Buntline met them at the depot.
[IIS]
Thrilling Lives
"Well boys," he greeted, ''are you ready for business?"
"I can't exactly answer that," Cody replied. *'For we
don't know much about this acting business."
"Come with me," Buntline reassured the two plains-
men, "we'll see the manager of the amphitheatre, that's
where we play, opening there on Monday night."
The details of making a contract with the manager were
soon arranged.
"Have you your company Buntline," the manager asked.
"Not yet, but it won't be hard to get, there are always
a lot of idle actors hanging loose around Chicago."
"Give me an idea of your play and I may be able to help
you pick the cast, I know where most of the actors are.
We haven't much time to loose."
T haven't written the play yet," Buntline returned.
'What the deuce do you mean, no play, no actors and
here it's Wednesday, and you are to open on Monday
night, it's preposterous, Buntline I cancel your contract."
"That's alright about the contract, how much do you
want for the theatre for one week?"
"Six hundred dollars."
"You're on, here's half of it in advance, come along
boys."
[ii6]
<<i
((^
Here We Stick
The trio went to the hotel, Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack "^^
to have a nap and Buntline hustled himself to his own
room.
''Don't let any one disturb me until I come down," he
said.
Four hours later he rushed into the room with Cody
and Texas Jack.
"Hurrah for the Scouts of the Plains, that's the name of
the play, I've just finished the drama," he exclaimed.
"Here are your parts ; now boys, get to work and study
hard, rehearsal will be at ten in the morning."
Buntline hurried out to arrange for the rest of the
company.
'Say, that fellow is swift, ain't he?" Jack said.
'He's as speedy as Tall Bull."
'How long will it take you to learn that part Bill ?"
'Well, I figure in about six months."
'Me too, to get the first line, say Bill, let's cut it and
go back West."
"No, sir, we came on to act, here we are and here we
stick," Cody answered with determination, at the same
time wishing inwardly that they were back in the saddle.
[117]
('{
id
(i^
(C]
Thrilling Lives
'The Scouts of the Plains" was an Indian drama, with a
lot of thrills, mainly it permitted the public to get a near
hand view of the great Western character, Buffalo Bill,
they had read so much about. Financially it was a success.
The dramatic critics treated the embryo actors with
leniency, although one writer remarked that if it really
took Buntline four hours to write the play, the scribe won-
dered what he had been doing all that time.
But Buntline was right, Buffalo Bill was a novel char-
acter and it was soon evident that the public would pay
well to see him on the stage. A. road tour commenced
which lasted until June 16, 1873. Cody's profits from the
season amounted to six thousand dollars.
He determined to try it again, this time including with
Texas Jack, Wild Bill, the scout and hero of the Mc-
Candles' gang fight. The company was known as the Buf-
falo Bill combination, with John M. Burke as its business
manager. Lively times were in store for the troupe. Wild
Bill took the show business as a huge joke and would
never take his work seriously, he was up to deviltry all the
time.
It was at Titusville, Pa., when soon after the company
arrived the landlord sought out Cody.
[ii8]
Thrashes Rowdies
•'Don't you or any of your party go into the billiard
room," he said trembling.
"Why r
"There's a gang of toughs in there from the oil fields,
they are all drunk and say they came up to clean out your
party."
Wild Bill overheard this.
"Watch me Bill," he said starting for the door. "Keep
count as I throw *em out."
"Hold on Bill," Cody said, "wait until after we show
to-night."
Good as were his intentions and promise not to go there,
Wild Bill's curiosity overcame him and he sauntered into
the billiard room a little while later.
"Hello Buffalo Bill," one of the rowdies exclaimed.
"We've been looking for you all day."
"My name isn't BufiFalo Bill."
"You're a liar," retorted the bruiser.
Bill knocked him down and seizing a chair soon had
seven of the gang strewn out on the floor. The show went
on that night without any disturbance.
When the season closed in Boston, Cody made his prepa-
rations to return to Nebraska. An English gentleman by
[119]
Thrilling Lives
the name of Medley presented himself with a request that
the scout act as guide on a big hunt and camping trip
through the Western territory. The pay was liberal, a
thousand dollars a month and expenses; Buffalo Bill ac-
cepted the offer. He spent that summer in his old occupa-
tion and the ensuing winter continued his tour as the star
of the drama. Wild Bill and Texas Jack were again in
the company, but the second season proved too much for
the patience of the former, and he attempted to break his
contract. The manager 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 discharging
his blank cartridges so near the legs of the "dead" Indians
on the stage, that startled supers came to life with more
realistic yells than had accompanied their death.
This was a bit of business not called for in the playbook,
and while the audience was vastly entertained, the manage-
ment withheld its approval. Cody expostulated with the
reckless Indian slayer, but Wild Bill remarked calmly,
"that he hadn't hurt the fellows anyway," and continued
to indulge in his innocent pastime.
[120]
BUFFALO BILL AND PAWNEE BILL.
Side by Side on Their Favorite Mounts.
Bad News
Severe measures were next resorted to. He was in-
formed that he must stop shooting the Indians after they
were dead or leave the company. This was just what Wild
Bill had hoped for, and when the curtain went up on the
next performance he was to be seen sitting in the audience,
enjoying the play for the first time.
Cody sympathized with his former actor, but he had a
duty to perform and faithfully endeavored to persuade the
recreant actor to return to the company. Persuasion went
for nothing, so the contract was annulled and Wild Bill
made ready to return to his beloved plains.
''Here Bill is a little gift from Texas Jack and myself," '^
Cody said handing him two one thousand dollar bills.
The next season Buffalo Bill removed his family to
Rochester and organized a 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 as much of it 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 everywhere.
One night in April when the season was nearing its
close, a telegram was handed to Cody, just about as he was
[ 121 1
Thrilling Lives
to step on the stage. It was from his wife summoning
him to Rochester, to the bedside of his only son, Kit Car-
son Cody. He consulted with his manager and it was ar-
ranged that after the first act he was to be excused, so 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
stopped by fear and anxiety. He caught his train and the
manager 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, gypsies
had carried him away the previous summer. But Kit was
the son of a scout, his young eyes were sharp. He marked
the trail followed by his captors, and at the first oppor-
tunity, gave them the slip and got safely home, exclaim-
ing as he toddled into the sobbing family circle :
"I tumed back adain. Mama, don't cry."
Despite his anxiety, Cody smiled at the recollection of
the season when his son had been a regular visitor at
[ 122]
Cody's Son Dies
the theatre. The little fellow knew that the most important
feature of a dramatic performance, from the management's
point of view is a large audience. He watched the seats
fill in keen anxiety, and the moment the curtain arose and
his father appeared on the stage, he would make a trum-
pet of his little hands and shout from the 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 undis-
turbed enjoyment of the play.
When Cody reached Rochester he found his son still
alive, though beyond medical aid. He was burning up
with fever, but still conscious and the little arms were joy-
fully lifted to clasp around his Papa's neck. He lingered
during the next day and into the night, but the end came,
and Cody faced a great sorrow of his life. He had built
fond hopes for his son and in a breath they had been swept
away. Little Kit was laid to rest in Mount Hope Ceme-
tery April 24, 1876.
Cody determined to cut the theatrical season short.
There were still several weeks of contracts to fulfill. One
[123]
"1
<(1
Thrilling Lives
day as he was leaving the hotel for the theatre he heard
the newsboys shout:
'Extra ! Extra ! All about the Indian war out West \"
'Here boy, give me a paper," and Cody glanced at it
hurriedly.
"What's happened Bill," one of his company asked, peer-
ing at the paper over his shoulder.
"Another uprising with the Sioux."
"I'll bet the government wishes you were out there."
"I'm going."
"What," exclaimed the other in surprise, "you can't
break your theatrical contracts."
"I can bust anything when my country needs me," Cody
replied. "To hell with the show business, I'm going West
to-night."
[124]
CHAPTER XII.
Pawnee Bill Meets Jesse James.
OR several years Gordon worked for Trapper
Tom Evans. His youth was for a time the
butt of many jokes among the trappers. But
they soon grew to know him as a determined
youngster afraid of no danger that man or
elements could suggest.
He took naturally to the trails, its ways and its hard-
ships. It wasn't long before the men ceased to call him
tenderfoot. In the fall of the year Lillie started to market
in charge of a pack train laden with dried hides and pelts.
The nearest selling place was the Pawnee Indian Agency.
One bitter cold night on the journey he decided to re-
main on Camp Creek until daylight. Hardly had the
horses been tethered and the fires going when a cutting
northwester gave his experienced mind the foreboding of
bad weather.
[125]
Thrilling Lives
The pack mules bunched on the side of the creek, refus-
ing to leave either for food or water. They too knew
that a storm was brewing.
Amid lightning flashes and a down-pour of rain the
elements raged in their fury. Seeing that remaining in
camp would be as bad as forging ahead, Lillie thought it
best to try to make some headway. But his mules refused
to budge an inch.
Saddling his own horse, he started for the agency to
get provisions, leaving the remaining animals securely tied.
Within an hour the rain turned to snow, it fell in blinding
flurries, obliterating every landmark. He could see noth-
ing ahead and hear nothing except the wailing of the
wind. Lillie dismounted, broke a small limb from a tree
and stuck it in the snow, fully half an hour later, though
he was riding all the time, he came across the same bough.
"As I thought," he muttered with teeth chattering.
"Completely lost and just going round and round in a
circle." He tried to build a fire but all his matches were
wet, he was without food, with no prospects of the storm
abating.
"Guess we'd better keep a moving any way old horse,"
and with that he started again, with head bowed low over
[126]
Lost in Storm
the saddle pommel. He had gone but a little way when
with a pitch he was thrown head foremost from the saddle,
rolling over in a pile of snow. His horse had fallen over a
river bank. Lillie's wrist was bady bruised in striking a
cake of ice. He made his way back to the horse, the ani-
mal was lying on its side and seemed unable to rise.
"Here old fellow you must get up, this lying down here
won't do." But try as he might the horse could not move.
Gordon soon found the reason why, the animal had broken
its leg in the fall.
There was only one thing to do, Lillie did that re-
luctantly.
"Too bad old pard, I hate to see you go," he said, draw-
ing his revolver, "this will put you out of your suffering."
Lillie removed the saddle from the dead animal and
wrapped the blanket around his own body. There was noth-
ing to do but wait or freeze to death. He sat down on
the horse's side. A few minutes passed when he was
startled to hear a groan, it sounded like the creaking of
trees. A bit more and Gordon heard the sound again.
"Some other animal has fallen over the bank, I guess,"
he mused and thoroughly numbed with cold, sank to the
ground, his eyes were heavy, the icy grip of a death sleep
[127]
Thrilling Lives
was stealing over him, he seemed to realize it and made a
final struggle to his feet. Stumbling on, numb in every
joint with the bruised wrist aching badly, the young trap-
per tried to make headway against the storm. He found
that by keeping close to the under side of the river bank
that the force of the storm was somewhat spent before it
hit him. He had gone a few feet when he heard the groan
again.
He stopped and listened intently. Then again came the
sound.
"Halloa," he tried to cry, but his lips would hardly open
to let out the sound. He listened.
"Halloa," came a faint answer, like the echo of a dying
wind.
"My God," he mused, "there's some poor devil out in
the storm too."
Bending every muscle he started in the direction of the
voice, not twenty feet away he came upon the prostrate
form of a man nearly covered with snow, which had crim-
soned with blood.
"Halloa there, stranger," Lillie said, kneeling down be-
side him, "you look to be in a bad way."
"Got any whiskey," faintly asked the other.
[ 128 ]
Rescues Stranger
"No," and despite the seriousness of their predicament,
a smile traced itself over LilHe's features.
"For heaven's sake," he thought, ''everywhere I go
someone is talking about a drink."
''Can you stop me from bleeding so much," the stranger
said. Lillie took the horse blanket from his shoulders and
wrapped it around the wounded man. There was a gaping
wound in his forehead, and one arm was shot through.
"What happened ?"
"Sheriff and his men " but could get no further.
Lillie saw that unless aid was secured for the bleeding
man that he would soon die, he did not know which way
to turn, the snow still fell in blinding sheets.
"Cabin-up-river-bank,-about-two-hundred-yards, try-to-
get-me-there," faintly faltered the other.
"I'll go for help," thought Lillie, "no I might as well try
to carry him along," and with that the youngster summon-
ing all his strength drew the wounded man to him and
started on the journey. Stumbling and falling at nearly
every step, it seemed a hopeless task. But Gordon would
not give up as long as there was an ounce of life left in
him. He staggered on.
[129]
Thrilling Lives
Dimly through the falHng snow LilHe thought he saw a
hght. He tried to cry out but no sound came from his
lips. The wounded man, exhausted by loss of blood and
cold, had swooned away. His dead weight was beginning
to tell on the sturdy youngster. Finally, seeing that he
could not carry his burden any more and that he was with-
in a few feet of the cabin, Lillie laid the man in the snow
and half falling at every step staggered to the door, he
stumbled against it and fell, as he did so there was the
sharp report of a rifle. A bullet crashed through the door
not two inches above Gordon's head.
Then all was still, Lillie had fainted.
After a few minutes the door was opened just enough
to allow a rifle barrel to come through.
"Who's there," demanded a voice from the inside.
There was no answer.
The door opened a little more and finally was gradually
shoved back. Gordon's body which had fallen against the
bottom part fell into the room.
"Guess you got him alright," said one of the men in the
room. "Who is it?"
"Dunno, turn up the light."
"Why, it's that young feller that works for Trapper
[ 130 ]
Man Out There!
Tom," one said rolling Lillie over on his face. "That's
too bad, didn't mean to hit him."
Just then Gordon moved, the heat of the room had re-
vived him a little.
*'Man out there," he panted and fell off to unconscious-
ness.
"Go out Dick and see who it is."
In a few minutes Dick returned carrying the almost
frozen body of the wounded man. At a glance the men
inside saw it was one of their number. Stimulants were
applied and the injured man regained consciousness, in a
few words he told the story of his rescue by Lil\ie. Gordon
about this time was coming to, they put him to bed, applied
the usual restoratives and treatment for those who are
frozen. In the morning Lillie awoke refreshed after a
sound sleep and was but little the worse for his experience
the night before.
He raised his head. He tried to collect his scattered
senses. He could not account for his being in bed in a
strange place. At the far side of the room there were
several men, including the wounded man that he rescued
the night before. Slowly memory came back, he recalled
[131]
Thrilling Lives
everything up to the time that he had fallen against the
door.
He got up.
At the first sound he made there was a quick movement
on the part of four men, they wheeled facing him and
Lillie was astounded to find himself looking down four
rifle barrels.
"It's only the young feller/' said one, and the guns
came down.
"Well bub, how do you feel?" one of them asked.
"Pretty good, but where in the deuce am I and why this
cordial greeting with the guns. Do you fellows always
say good morning to a stranger with a rifle ?"
"As a rule we say good night to him with that," laughed
one who seemed to be the leader. "Any way you have noth-
ing to fear. The boys want to thank you for saving one of
our pals."
"Oh, that's all right — now don't ask me if I want a drink
of anything, except some of that good smelling coffee over
there." He got up, one of the men bandaged his swollen
wrist and the party sat down to breakfast.
"That chap was in pretty bad shape, lucky I happened
[132]
Meets Jesse James
to get lost in that storm, or I guess he would have passed
in before morning. How did he get shot up?"
"Well," began one of the men, "we don't as a rule talk
much about those things, but I guess you're entitled to
know. You see, we boys ain't very popular with the con-
stables or the detectives, and when we come across each
other there's usually a burying takes place."
And from the armed appearance of every member of
the gang Lillie needed no stretch of imagination to believe
it.
"Who the dickens are you fellows anyway?" he asked.
"Jesse James and his men," replied the tallest of their
number, who had acted as the spokesman.
"Gee whizz!" exclaimed Gordon.
"That's alright, don't be afraid.'*
"Not a darn bit afraid — only surprised, you don't seem
to be a bad sort of a fellow at all."
"Well, that's because you wasn't looking for us and
we wasn't looking for you, that might make a differ-
ence," the other replied. The storm had abated by this
time and Lillie prepared to go.
"Now young feller, we have got to stay here and look
after the one that was shot — you know there's a big re-
[133]
Thrilling Lives
ward for us — what are you going to talk about when you
get to town, if we let you go ?"
''About the first thing will be to talk someone into giv-
ing me a job, I suppose Trapper Tom will fire me, for
losing his horse ; the rest of the team, I guess, is frozen to
death by this time."
''Aren't going to say anything about us."
"Why the devil should I ?"
"To get the reward."
"Well, I'm not looking for that kind of money — you've
treated me right — if you hadn't been in this cabin I'd a
froze to death, I'm glad to be alive but don't like the idea
of that long walk to the Indian agency."
"You won't have to walk," James said, "you can have
one of our horses."
And true to his word, Gordon never mentioned having
met the Jesse James crowd until long after they were
driven out of the state by the Rangers.
For several months he continued in the employ of Trap-
per Tom. The work offered no advancement and his am-
bitious nature chafed under the limited opportunities. One
day while at the agency he learned of an opening. He
secured the influence of several prominent m.en who had
[134]
Appointed Interpreter
been watching the youth's career for some time. He was
installed as secretary to the Government agent. He liked
the work. The Indians with whom he was thrown in daily
contact grew attached to him. He saw a way of further
advancement but it meant much study, but after some
time he overcame all the difficulties of the Pawnee lan-
guage.
The opportunity came and he approached Colonel Hay-
worth, the Government Inspector.
''Colonel," Lillie began, "I've been studying hard and
I want to be an interpreter."
"But "
"I know twenty dialects," Lillie ignored the objections,
''and I would like to get the place."
"You are too young, my boy."
"It's not youth you're hiring. Colonel, it's my ability as
an interpreter."
"Yes and your obstinate determination to get whatever
you go after," Hay worth laughingly said, "Alright, I'll
get you the commission."
In this position he remained for some time, adding new
friends and achievements to his budding career. In the
summer of 1884 a party of four masked men, heavily
[135]
Thrilling Lives
armed and swiftly mounted rode up to the only bank at
Medicine Lodge. One held the horses and the other
three entered the bank.
"Hands up," exclaimed the leader.
"Not so fast/' cried Lillie, who had only a few minutes
before entered the bank to deposit some government
money, his revolver was in action at once. The hammer
fell on an empty barrel, the desperadoes opened fire on
him and Lillie, seeing that a four handed fight with three
men who had loaded pistols while his was empty, was not
conducive to his best health, made a dash around the
counter and escaped through the back door while the rob-
bers kept shooting. Both bank clerks were killed. Lillie
dashed into the street.
"Get your rifles," he yelled, shouting to a crowd of citi-
zens a little way off. "Bank being robbed, let's give 'em
a run for it."
The ranchers and cowmen headed by Lillie soon over-
took the bandits, a running fight commenced in which one
of the bank thieves was shot from his horse, another
wounded and the other two captured. The cowboys were
for a lynching bee then and there.
[136]
Robbers Lynched
"No boys, give the law a chance, they'll get theirs any-
way."
That night, however, the jail was broken into and the
two men strung up to a tree.
Not long after this Lillie bought a herd of cattle and
started for Cedar Creek where he intended taking up a
homestead. The country then was filled with desperate
characters. Men who thought nothing of jumping the
weak-kneed settlers' claim and holding it for their own.
Cattle land was then becoming valuable.
Lillie selected his site and built a rude little cabin. The
next morning he picked up a note lying on his door step.
It read :
"Save trouble and move away quick."
Reversing the sheet of paper he wrote on its back:
"Move nothing, I'm here to stay, if you fellows are looking
for trouble drop around to see me any time," and riding
over to the supposed author's ranch, he stuck it to a post
and returned home to wait for results. They came.
One evening he was sitting in the cabin door cleaning his
rifle. He heard a noise like leaves crackHng and then a
bullet whizzed by his head, coming through a window just
[137]
Thrilling Lives
to the rear of the door. There was an empty rain barrel a
few feet away, he was in it in a second.
For a long time there wasn't a sound — then the figure of
a man crept stealthily around the corner of the cabin in
full view of Gordon who was watching through a hole in
the barrel. The man raised, took aim at the open door and
was about to press the trigger. He was between the cabin
and Lillie's hiding place with his back to the latter.
"Hold on there," Gordon cried, rising above the bar-
rel and covering the intruder — "drop that gun."
"Don't shoot," whined the culprit, letting his rifle fall.
"You're too poor a marksman to be prowling around at
night — you might accidentally hit some one."
"It's all a mistake."
"Yes, but only because I wasn't where you thought I
was. What are you after?"
"I was looking for some cattle that they told me you had
stolen."
"Don't tell any lies that you can't prove. There isn't
any stray cattle around here except the one my gun's
pointed at now. Now get away quick."
And he did.
[138]
CHAPTER XIII.
Buffalo Bill's Duel With Chief Yellow Hand.
ERE comes Buffalo Bill."
Three ringing cheers expressed the delight
of the troopers over his return to his old com-
mand and Cody was equally pleased. As
good as his word, Buffalo Bill closed his the-
atrical tour and hastened to Chicago on his way West. It
was his intention to overtake General Crook. A few
hours after his arrival in Chicago, Cody was met by an
officer from the military headquarters.
"Just the man we're looking for," the latter said. "Gen-
eral Carr, in command of the Fifth Cavalry, has sent for
you to act as his guide and chief of scouts on the march to
meet General Crook in Arizona."
Hastening on to Cheyenne, Buffalo Bill overtook the
command and was met at the depot by Captain King (now
General). His reception by General Carr was warm.
[139]
Thrilling Lives
He was at once installed as chief of Scouts. The next
morning the command started for Fort Laramie, where it
overtook General Sheridan en route to the Red Cloud
agency. Cody was asked to accompany him as scout. In-
dian depredations of recent occurrence caused the Fifth
Cavalry to scour the country at the foot of the Blackhili
mountains for about two weeks. Frequent minor engage-
ments with the redskins occurred.
At this time General Wesley Merritt had relieved Gen-
eral Carr in command of the Fifth. He and Buffalo Bill
soon became fast friends. On June 25, 1876, came news
that staggered Cody, officers and men alike. Custer had
been killed and his whole force massacred.
To Buffalo Bill the loss of this gallant soldier was a
personal one. The two had been the warmest of friends.
Cody swore vengeance, not realizing that it would come
soon enough. Orders were instantly given to proceed to
Fort Fetterman and join General Crook in the Big Horn
Basin.
The last seen of Custer, as he started into that memor-
able battle of the Little Big Horn, was when he went over
the ridsre and waved his hat in salute to the other com-
mands. Custer made a wide detour, to fall on the rear of
[ 140 ]
Custer's Last Fight
the Indian village or what he thought was the rear, imme-
diately struck a very strong band of warriors, for by this
time Chief Gall had been informed of Custer's presence
and hastened to that point with reinforcements. Word
was also sent to Chief Crazy Horse to assist in the com-
bined attack on Custer.
They crossed the river at a point where they were con-
cealed by a large ravine and got on Custer's flank, and so
astute had been Chief Gall's arrangements, that the brave
soldier found himself attacked in front and on all sides
at once.
Custer's first charge was successful until he saw the im-
mensity of the village. It was a full-fledged city of yell-
ing redskins. He decided to make his stand on a high
hill, half a mile away and back from the village.
He sounded recall and tried to make the point, turning
his back while doing so. The Indians were never so brave
as when they saw a white soldier's back. On the retreat
to the hill half of Custer's command was killed. The rest
took up positions, but the Indians being so elated at the
effects of their first charge concentrated and fought Cus-
ter like demons.
[141]
Thrilling Lives
Fighting desperately to gain a point higher up, he was
compelled to dismount his men and act upon the defensive.
Unable to advance or retreat and probably unwilling to do
the latter anyway, Custer must have based his actions on
the diversion the other commands of white soldiers would
make. Steadfastly believing that help would come, they
fought coolly, hoping and expecting for reinforcements
that never came.
The Indians were all well armed and in overwhelming
numbers circling and riding at high speed, they kept up a
continuous and active fire, while skirmishers and marks-
men crawled through the grass picking off officers, even-
tually killing Custer and every one of his gallant fighters.
They all died in their proper military positions, every
officer at his post, every man in line. Custer's body was
found and although all the others were mutilated or
scalped, his remains seemed to have been untouched,
except by his death wounds, a tribute from the savage
foe for his bravery and courageous fight for life.
On the march to join Crook, a messenger arrived tell-
ing Merritt that eight hundred Cheyenne warriors had
left the Red Cloud Agency that day to join Sitting Bull's
hostile forces in the Big Horn region. Alerritt selected five
[142]
Indians Approach
hundred men with Cody as guide, dispatching them to
War Bonnet Creek in an effort to intercept these Indians.
The detachment reached the Creek on the evening of July
17, 1876, and went into camp. Buffalo Bill at daybreak
struck out to reconnoiter.
''General, the body of Cheyennes are approaching from
the south," he reported to Merritt.
Quietly the order was given for the cavalry to mount
and remain out of view. Cody and Merritt, with two
aides, went on a Httle tour of observation to a neighbor-
ing hill.
"They're coming directly at us," exclaimed General
Merritt.
Presently fifteen or twenty Indians dashed off to the
West in the direction from which Merritt's command had
come the night before.
"General, I see two mounted soldiers pushing their way
on our trail," Cody said with his eyes glued to the field
glass. "They are evidently carrying dispatches to you."
The Indians were trying to intercept the messengers.
Merritt cjid not think it advisable to send out soldiers to
the couriers' aid as it would disclose the fact that a body
of troops were nearby.
[143]
Thrilling Lives
"Wait until those men get a little closer," Cody said,
"and as the Indians are about to charge I will take my
scouts and make a dash to their rescue."
"Alright Cody," Merritt replied, "it's risky, but if you
can do it, go ahead."
Buffalo Bill rushed back to the command and mounting,
picked out fifteen men then rejoined Merritt on the hill.
"Give the word," Cody said, "when you think it's time
General."
A few moments later Merritt exclaimed:
"Go in now Cody, be quick about it, they are about to
charge." ^' .
The two messengers were not over four hundred yards
distant, with the Indians about six hundred feet behind
them. Cody and his men dashed over the bluffs and gal-
loped straight at the redskins. A quick skirmish then
three dead Indians were on the plains.
The balance retreated joining the main body of war
painted Cheyennes. But not for long.
A second group came dashing at the white men who
were by this time nearly a half mile from the cavalry. The
fighting began in earnest. Suddenly one of the Indians
[144]
^
THRCJUOH WQNDERZAMDicAMPI^^ ^^ THBCOl)y.TI^AIl
Duel with Indian
decorated with the head gear of a chief broke from his
band and rode straight for Cody.
"1 know you, Pa-he-haska," he yelled in the native
tongue. "If you want fight, come ahead and fight me."
The chief drew his men to line and rode back and forth
in front bantering Buffalo Bill with challenges for a duel.
"All right, you red devil, get ready." Cody galloped
toward him, the Chief started at the same time, both rid-
ing at full speed to within a distance of thirty yards of each
other.
The Indian fired first and missed. Buffalo Bill's shot
killed the redskin's horse. At the same instant his own
mount stumbled and Cody was unseated. Springing to
their feet both the red and white man, not more than
twenty paces apart, fired simultaneously.
The Indian sank to the ground with a bullet in his
breast. Cody was uninjured and at the Chief's side in a
twinkling. A quick thrust and Buffalo Bill's bowie cleaved
the redskin's heart. Jerking ofif the war bonnet Cody
quickly scalped the dead warrior.
The whole duel had lasted but a few minutes. The In-
dians watched in awe, but as soon as they saw their chief
fall they charged the daring scout. Merritt was on the
[145]
Thrilling Lives
lookout too, and sent a company of soldiers to Cody's re-
lief. They arrived none too soon. A quick volley and
the Indians retreated. Cody mounted his horse and
galloped back to Merritt.
"Well done, Cody, well done," he exclaimed.
"Pretty close call," Cody cried exultantly, waving the
chieftain's topknot in the air. "That was Yellow Hand,
Chief of the Cheyennes, and here's the first scalp for
Custer."
1 146]
CHAPTER XIV.
Pawnee Bill Heads the Land Boomers.
N THE spring of the following year after his
experience with the claim jumpers, Gordon
W. LiUie was sent with a tribe of Pawnee
Indians to join Buffalo Bill's Wild West.
Lillie was to act as interpreter. Returning
to the agency he was made white chief of the Pawnee
tribes, succeeding Major Frank North. It was due to his
persistent fair dealings and his every effort to advance
their cause that to the Indians and those who knew him
he became known as "Pawnee Bill."
"Why is it," mused Pawnee Bill, "that Oklahoma is not
opened up for the white settlers ?"
The question was easily answered.
GRAFT !
In his constant intercourse and association with the In-
dians he gained the fact that all the existing claims of the
American redman to that section of the Indian Territory
[147]
Thrilling Lives
known as Oklahoma, had ceased and the lands were sub-
ject to public entry. Yet whenever a pioneer settled he
was promptly expelled.
Why was this?
Simply because it was a rich and fertile tract controlled
by influential cattle men.
Money was the dominating influence that kept the
poorer settlers out. The more he investigated, the more
Pawnee Bill became determined to see if the land could
not be opened for rightful settlement.
At first it was difficult to interest others in a concen-
trated movement. Many had tried and after almost
superhuman discouragements had given up.
On the morning of December 20, 1888, Pawnee Bill
rode into Wichita — a few hours after the entire town
knew his mission. He had left the dent of his courage on
Wichita some years before and the citizens recalled it.
They flocked to his banner. A mass meeting was called for
that night. Pawnee Bill laid before the gathering his
plans, harangued to good advantage, he answered the
heckling of the undecided ; he finally thrust his enthusiasm
into every heart.
[ 148 ]
Right to Land
"Men, listen to me," he addressed them, with cheeks
and eyes aflame, with whole-souled enthusiam, "this land
is ours — yours and mine — we are entitled to it. Years
have gone by since it passed from control of the Indians.
If it belonged to them, if they were in anyway getting
the benefit of it, if it were against any law in the land for
us to get our share, I would be the last to urge you to
action.
"You can look for little aid from Congress — too much
money and influence are back of the men who have
usurped the territory for their cattle. We are justified
in entering this property by the Homestead Act of 1879,
which says — 'all lands belonging to the United States to
which the Indian title has been or may hereafter be ex-
tinguished shall be subject to the right of pre-emption
under the conditions, restrictions and stipulations provided
by law.' Men, I claim that you and I have just as much
right to that land as the cattle men who now control it,
and yes — by thunder, we have more right — the right that
citizenship gives to every honest man — men, are you
with me?"
"You bet," came the answer in a chorus.
[149]
Thrilling Lives
No sooner had the wires flashed the arrival of Pawnee
Bill and the mass meeting at Wichita than he was del-
uged with large quantities of mail from every State and
Territory in the Union. There were letters of inquiry,
some condemmed the project, but the vast majority asked
for information as to how the writers could join the
venture.
Pawnee Bill organized sub-colonies in Kansas, Arkan-
sas, Nebraska and Texas. The one in Omaha enlisted over
two thousand enthusiasts, sending on a delegation to
confer with Pawnee Bill at Wichita.
The colonies as yet did not have a central head, each
were governed locally, and as a result concentrated action
was lacking. Pawnee Bill was unanimously chosen as the
Oklahoma Boomer Leader.
On January 1, 1889, a detachment of Boomer Eggles-
ton's forces broke away and made a settlement in Okla-
homa. They were promptly expelled by the soldiers and
many rushed over to join Pawnee Bill's colony.
Eight days later Pawnee Bill and his followers pitched
camp at Arkansas City. They were met by Captain
Woodson and the Seventh Cavalry, reinforcements hav-
[ISO]
LiLLiE Handcuffed
ing been sent out from Fort Leavenworth; also Chiefs
Mayer and Bushyhead, of the Cherokee Nation, had or-
dered their mounted Indian poHce to the assistance of
the cavalry. It may be worth while noting that open
charges were made that the Indian police were being gen-
erously subsidized, in fact maintained, by the rich cattle
men.
Finding that his efforts here at entering Oklahoma
were fruitless, Pawnee Bill moved with his forces to
Honeywell, Kansas, in the night of the 29th. On the
following day Lieutenant Elliott and a detachment of cav-
alry took up their position across the line just opposite
the colony. It was a trying position. Wordy conflicts
were frequent, and had it not been for the cool head and
masterly leadership of Pawnee Bill there might have been
serious trouble many times.
On February 1st all was in readiness to make the en-
trance. During the night Pawnee Bill mounted his horse
and dashed across the border to investigate and lay out
the route for the invasion next day. He was shortly after-
ward surrounded by a squad of soldiers, overpowered
and taken from his horse and handcuffed to the back of
a commissary wagon, and in that way the gallant leader
[151]
Thrilling Lives
was ignominiously forced to march twenty miles on foot
over the burning ground to the border line.
"Won't be safe for you to try this again," one soldier
yelled. Pawnee Bill made no answer. His fight was a
bigger one than engaging with a minion of Uncle Sam.
The order was given and Pawnee Bill with his -colony
started further West, intending to go a distance of about
twelve miles, then cross the Bitter Creek and Secaspie
River, which at that time were swollen to impassibility on
the bridges. Once over. Pawnee Bill figured that by get-
ting the two impassible streams between his forces and
the soldiers, they would be better prepared to make the
dash.
"Pawnee Bill here?" shouted a mounted messenger.
"Important messages for him."
And such they proved to be. One was from the com-
mittee in Washington, D. C, stating that the Lower
House had just passed the Oklahoma Bill, and the other
was from the Board of Trade in Omaha urging him not
to make entry until the bill was acted upon by Congress.
"Well, darn their skin," Pawnee Bill exclaimed, "Pve
stirred them to action at last." A meeting was called and
[152]
^tT^
^ AT"T~FJ' RANCH Ji
A COZY CORNFJ^
BUFFALO BILV5 HOTEL.
"THE IRMA "
AT CODY, WYOMING
'f 'l^ss'^r
ON THE QOD^^^^^' ^
THROUGH WojvD^^i^AND
itK„lmm00£^
A
The People's Champion
when a committee from Caldwell arrived, was in session.
The com.mittee told Pawnee Bill it was necessary for the
good of all that he should wait.
"I can wait, all right," he answered. "But some pro-
vision must be made for my people."
It was decided to let Pawnee Bill and his sturdy band
of pioneers have the use of every vacant house in Caldwell
and also the Fair Grounds. , -
In March the bill passed, the news was received in the
West, particularly in Pawnee Bill's camp, with demon-
stration and rejoicing. Pawnee Bill was congratulated
from far and near, press and public the' country over were
loud in their praises of the heroic boomer leader, the man
v/ho wore the mantle of the people's champion, made
sacred by the Hfe's blood of Carpenter, Crouch and Okla-
homa Payne.
President Harrison issued a proclamation that Oklahoma
w^ould be opened on April 32, 1889, at twelve o'clock
noon.
Preparations were made for the entry. Thousands
thronged the boundary line, and all were in breathless ex-
pectancy for the great event. The Seventh Cavalry was
stationed at Caldwell. Pawnee Bill had been joined by
[153]
Thrilling Lives
his brother, Albert Lillie — now a wealthy rancher living
near Pawnee.
The colony moved to Honeywell and entered the Cher-
okee strip on April 18th with about four thousand and
two hundred followers of Pawnee Bill.
Floods retarded their progress and several were
drowned in crossing overflown rivers. At Hackberry a
halt was made for dinner, A courier dashed up, informing
Pawnee Bill that the cavalry under Captain Woodson was
collecting all the boomers on the line at Bull Foot and
holding them under guard until noon of the opening day.
Lillie saw the disadvantage he and his colony would be
placed under by being thrown together with about seven
thousand men eager for land. He decided quickly. A
move was made twelve miles west to Turkey Creek when
camp was made until April 21st. Then they marched
across the open country, drawing up at the Oklahoma line
at dark of the same day.
That evening Pawnee Bill sauntered out for a walk —
to be alone with his thoughts. The following day was to
bring its own big events — the gritty boomer leader was
about to see the fulfillment of his one greatest desire —
[154]
Pawnee Bill a Boomer
Oklahoma free to the settlers. Unconsciously he walked
a mile or so.
"Halt, stay where you are!" rang out a stern com-
mand as a young mounted policeman rode up. "You're
one of that boomer gang, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, get back of the hne and stay there until the
cannon signal to-morrow — and say, is Pawnee Bill with
your outfit?"
"He was over there a little while ago."
"Tell him he'd better stay out of here until noon
to-morrow."
"That so? Why?"
"We've got orders to shoot him on sight."
<*»<i(i,..'i
[155]
CHAPTER XV.
Buffalo Bill Made a Brigadier-General.
«
J^ FTER the thrilling duel with Yellow Hand
the army moved on. It was on August third
that the command reached Goose Creek,
joining General Crook's forces. Cody was
enthusiastically greeted by Crook, who had
heard much of his heroic deeds. After one day in camp
the commands headed for Tongue River, leaving the
wagons behind, thence starting in a westerly direction.
Buffalo Bill was sent ahead, and he soon discovered the
Indian trail, judging it to be about four days old, and
from its size estimated that about seven thousand Indians
had passed. For several days the soldiers pushed on
without seeming to make much headway on the redskins.
Some time after, when Cody, again in the lead, mounted
a hilltop and scanned the surrounding country far and
[157]
Thrilling Lives
wide with field glasses a cloud of dust caught his eye.
It proved to be General Terry's command. Terry's scouts
had evidently seen Buffalo Bill, and reported back to the
commander that there were Indians ahead. Terry at
once went to the post. Shortly after, Buffalo Bill's atten-
tion was attracted by the appearance of a body of soldiers
forming into skirmish line. He also saw a party of In-
dians who later proved to be friendly scouts with Terry's
army. The Seventh Cavali-y, much to Cody's amazement,
was thrown into battle line.
Then it dawned upon the scout that there had been a
mistake. He had been seen and taken for the outpost of
Sioux warriors. Spurring his horse, he rode toward the
skirmish line. Five hundred rifles were leveled at him.
He waved his hat, and when within a hundred yards of
the soldiers Colonel Weir recognized Cody and rode out
to greet him.
"Boys, it's Buffalo Bill !" Weir shouted, as they dashed
up to the lines. The regiment gave Cody three rousing
cheers. It was a proud moment in the scout's life to be
thus received by the army. That night both commands
went into camp on the Rosebud.
[iS8]
Scared Whole Army
''Gee, that was funny," Cody was thinking, "I scared
the whole army into lining up for battle."
A few days later Cody was selected to go on a scouting
expedition with General Mills. He was to ride on the
pilothouse of a steamboat and keep watch on the river
banks for Indian trails. Two companies were landed
after a short trip, and Cody with another guide was in-
structed to push on ahead and reconnoiter the vicinity.
They came upon a fort built and occupied by Colonel
Rice and his men. Cody returned to his command and
was ordered with dispatches to General Whistler, whose
steamboat was forty miles down the river. The journey
was made over bad lands in just four hours.
"Cody, I want you to take some information back to
General Terry," Whistler said. "I can't get anyone
around here to risk it; if you will, I'll see that you are
well paid."
"Never mind the pay," Cody replied. "Get your dis-
patches ready and I'll start at once." In due time he
reached General Terry. The latter read the dispatches
and held a consultation with General Crook. The com-
mands then started for the dry fork of the Missouri River,
where Indians had been reported. Cody was sent with
[159]
Thrilling Lives
dispatches again to Colonel Rice, who was still camped at
the mouth of the Glendive Creek, on the Yellowstone,
eighty miles aw^ay.
He started at night, through a new country, in a driz-
zling rain, and with a poor mount. At daylight Cody
stopped for a bite of breakfast and a rest. In a few
minutes he was asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by
a roaring, rumbling sound. Seizing his gun and drag-
ging his horse deeper into the bushes, he crawled to the
steep side of a bank and looked over.
In the distance was a herd of buffalo being chased and
fired at by thirty Indians. For two hours, gun in hand,
expecting to be discovered and attacked at any minute,
Buffalo Bill watched and waited for the redskins.
They did not see him. At nightfall he started again.
Bearing off to the East for several miles, he semi-circled
the Indians' camp and at daylight reached Colonel Rice
wdthout adventure. Starting back the next day with dis-
patches to Terry, Cody overtook the command at Deer
Creek.
This for a period ended Cody's scouting career. He
obtained leave to return to New York for a visit with his
family, shortly afterwards returning West to meet
[i6o]
Visits Big Horn
Major Frank North with whom he was to enter the cattle
business.
In 1878-79 Cody successfully starred in a drama, en-
titled 'The Knight of the Plains or Buffalo Bill's Best
Trail."
In 1880 the famous scout was bereaved by the death of
his little daughter Orra. She was buried in Mount Hope
Cemetery, Rochester, by the side of her brother Kit Car-
son. In 1882 another daughter was born — she was named
Irnia and is still living.
It was about this time that Buffalo Bill made his first
visit to the valley of the Big Horn. Cody was impressed
with its remarkable beauty and determined it the ideal
place for his future home. He selected a site near two
little lakes, naming them after his two daughters Irma and
Orra. In testimony of the valuable service he had ren-
dered his country, Cody was later on appointed Brigadier
General in the State National Guard of Nebraska. He
actively served in that capacity for many years, but when
a moment's rest came Cody was to be found at his home
in the West near the little lakes.
Once when standing there a Sioux warrior came up to
him. This man was unusually intelligent and desired that
[i6i]
Thrilling Li\t.s
his children should be educated. He sent his two sons to
Carlisle and himself took great pains in learning the white
man's religious beliefs, though he still clung to his old
savage customs and superstitions. A short time before
he talked with Cody large companies of Indians had made
pilgrimages to join one big conclave for the purpose of
celebrating a Ghost dance. The authorities attempted to
stop it. The Indians resisted and blood was spilled.
Among the slain were the sons of the Indian who stood
beside the lake.
*Tt is written in the Great Book of the white man," the
old Chief said to Buffalo Bill, "that the Great Spirit— the
Nan-tan-in-chor — is to come again on earth, the white
man in their big villages go to their council lodges
(churches) and talk about the time of his coming. Some
say one time, some another, but they all know the time
will come, for it is written in the Great Book. It is the
great and the good among the white men that go to these
council lodges, and those that do not go, say, Tt is well ;
we believe as they believe. He will come.'
"It is written in the Great Book of the white man that
all human beings on earth are the children of the one
Great Spirit. He provides and cares for them. All he
[162]
Indian's Philosophy
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?"
"You have."
"The red man, too, has a Great Book. You have never
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
lodge to talk of the second coming. We have our cere-
mony, as the white man has his. The white man is
solemn, sorrowful ; the red man is happy and glad. We
dance and are joyful, and the white man sends his 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 that 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. W^e rejoice over his second coming; the
white man mourns, but he sends his soldiers to kill us in
[163]
Thrilling Lives
our rejoicing. Bah ! The white man is false. I return
to my people, and to the customs and habits of my fore-
fathers. I am an Indian."
The old Chief folded his blanket around him and
stalked away.
''After all," mused Cody, "every question has two sides
to it."
k
[164]
CHAPTER XVI.
Opening of the Cherokee Land Strip.
T WAS a red sun that broke April 22 into day,
a coloring that betokens storm, but the con-
flict was not to be between elements, but
men. And it raged viciously. Thousands
upon thousands had flocked to Oklahoma
weeks before the memorable day of opening. The prairie
became a melting pot of races. Gamblers, thugs, assassins,
adventurers, men, women and children were huddled
along the border line.
On every side was gambling, carousing and fighting
with all the trimmings that one might expect when such
a motley crowd gathered. There were some, thousands
in fact, bent on a legitimate errand, other thousands were
there to find easy prey. Food prices soared to the pinnacle
where only a robust bank roll could purchase, articles of
apparel brought the fanciest of prices, but every one
[165]
Thrilling Lives
seemed to have money, the clink and rattle of gold and
silver was heard on every side.
Pawnee Bill's colony was aloof from excitement and
terror that prevailed a few miles down the line — he exer-
cised wonderful control over his people, and they realized
that he was the master with their very best interests at
heart.
The morning passed quickly, men unhitched horses
from their wagons, cutting away the harness that might
impede their flight. The women gathered in bunches
preparing to follow the wake of the others, and every-
where good nature prevailed.
Across the border line only ten feet away the mounted
police were patrolling, while a detachment of cavalrymen
swung the signal cannon into position. At quarter to
twelve Pawnee Bill had the bugle sounded, the colony
stretched out along the line of entry.
"Men," he began, "in another few minutes the signal
will be given — my work for you is nearly done — each of
you now must do for yourself. We are in a good posi-
tion, we are in the choicest part of the Cherokee strip,
those of you who have strong mounts ride farthest along
[i66]
Signal Gun Fired
to give the others a chance. Get ready now and when she
fires, jump."
Horses pranced and chafed at their bits, they seemed to
know what was expected of them, the men wished each
other good luck. Their long days of hardship were over,
another few seconds and each would be dashing away to
locate his future home.
Boom! Bang! roared the signal cannon.
A thousand horse hoofs pounded the dry ground, and
an immense sheet of dust wrapped itself around the mad-
racing riders. Pawnee Bill was mounted on his fleetest
mare "Bonnie Bird," he soon took the lead. Turkey Creek
was his destination, twenty miles away. He made the
run in sixty-five minutes. It was there that he located a
town site.
The great race was over, everyone staked off his
ground. Those that entered with Pawnee Bill fared well,
the best section of the entire strip was theirs to choose
from. Lillie in the early days as a cattleman had ranged
over thousands and thousands of acres in Oklahoma, he
knew its every trail, and he knew the best land.
Oklahoma became his permanent home. He invested in
cattle and became actively interested in all that portended
[167]
Thrilling Lives
for the public welfare. Time rolled on and he was elected
to the presidency of the Arkansas City bank, which office
he still holds. Despite the fact of business cares at Paw-
nee, Major Lillie pined for excitement, something to get
the red blood coursing through his veins as in the days of
old. The travel fever seized him.
One day his brother strolled in the bank and found the
Major pondering over a lot of railroad maps.
"Going on a trip ?"
"Yes, Al, and I'm going to take you with me."
"Where to?" \^;, ' /'h ' ^
"Oh, around the country, I'm going to organize a Wild
West and Far East exhibition."
"You must be crazy."
"Well we'll take a chance anyway." And as good as
his word Major Lillie began the organization of a show
that was to see many ups and downs and that sooner or
later was to figure mightily in the big amusement enter-
prises of the world.
The first attempt was a crude affair. Lillie painted all
the wagons himself, just to see that they were done right.
He bought horses, secured the services of a fine band of
Pawnee Indians and the season commenced.
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Off to Europe
Reverses greeted the show at every hand. The section
it played through was not interested in cowboys or In-
dians or the Wild West. It was hard going for Pawnee
Bill.
''Confound it," he said one day, "there must be some-
thing wrong, this show is alright, and the public wants
entertainment. But they wont come. I'll stick until they
do or bust."
And he did both.
For a few seasons the show played to various streaks of
fortune. It was a hand-to-mouth affair nearly all the
time.
"All I had to eat for three days was one apple," con-
fided Al Lillie to the author not long ago.
But finally fortune turned. The show seemed in a
single night to swivel from a loser to a big profit maker.
Thus encouraged, Pawnee Bill had ideas of expanding his
scope.
"Why not go to Europe?" some one suggested.
And soon after came an offer that was too tempting to
overlook. There was to be a World's Fair at Antwerp.
Nations from every continent were to be represented.
[169]
Thrilling Lives
'7ust the place for your Wild West," one of his mana-
gers confided to Lillie.
"It don't sound so very good to me."
"But I've been there a dozen times and know how crazy
those people will be to see this show."
Almost against his better judgment Major Lillie was in-
duced to take the trip across the seas.
It didn't take long after landing for the Major to see
that the natives were very much interested in his exhibi-
tion. They would flock around the tents from morning to
night. This was during the time that the show was. get-
ting in readiness to exhibit. Elaborate preparations were
made to accommodate the thousands of spectators.
"Say, Pawnee Bill," exclaimed his manager, "look at
that jam of people, I tell you this is going to be a knock-
out, we'll stand 'em in so tight that we'll have to take the
painted letters off the tent. Don't it look good — aren't
you glad you came?"
"I'll tell you better after a week or so," the Major re-
plied.
The day of opening arrived at last. Banners swept the
breeze, bands played, spielers in brazen voice announced
[ 170 ]
A Crushing Blow
the different events, and the box office was ready to ac-
commodate the crowds that would jam in.
"Now watch 'em come," exclaimed the excited and
jubilant manager.
There were thousands of people on the exposition
grounds, they walked around the front entrance of the
Wild West with bulging eyes. They craned necks to get
a peep over the top canvas, they were astounded at the
cowboys, they were interested in everything that went on
outside, but that was all.
Only a handful paid admission.
It was a crushing blow.
And so it lasted. For weeks they would not spend a
dollar to see the exhibition. Pawnee Bill used every cent
he had to pay salaries and expenses, and when the exposi-
tion closed he had reached the limit of his resources. After
securing return tickets for his people he had just enough
left for himself to take a second passage back. The ani-
mals and entire equipment were left in Antwerp.
Pawnee Bill returned to America a much wiser and
sadder mian. He set to work one day figuring how much
he owed. It was not a day's task but a week's. The sum
was staggering — over a half million dollars. There was
[ 171 ]
Thrilling Lives
only one thing to do, face his creditors and tell them his
troubles. A meeting was called.
''Gentlemen," began Pawnee Bill, "I have figured up
my debts, they amount to something over five hundred
thousand dollars, you are my sole creditors, every cent
that I owe has been lost honestly in the show business."
"Have you a proposition to ofifer ?"
"I have a little property left, it would not bring over a
few thousand dollars, I don't want you to take that, I want
and I intend to pay each and every one of you dollar for
dollar. But you have to help me."
"Can you suggest a plan?"
"It's this, I am going to work for you, each of you,
until every dollar I owe is paid back. I want you to give
me more time."
"Willingly," one said, and they all agreed.
"And beside, I want you, gentlemen, to raise one hun-
dred thousand dollars between you, and lend it to me.
With that capital I will get out of debt."
It was an astounding proposition. The creditors sat
spellbound at the request, which seemed nervy enough for
a man to make who was in pawn then for a half million.
"Lillie, I believe in you," one of the heaviest creditors
[ 172 ]
Raises Big Loan
said, "and for one I'm going to see you through." Then
turning to the others, "are you gentlemen wilHng to take
this chance?"
"Yes," came the reply and the hundred thousand dol-
lars was raised for the undaunted showman.
[173]
CHAPTER XVII.
The Origin of the Wild West, Its Progress, History
AND Importance.
^O MY very good friend, Mr. Louis E. Cooke,
I am indebted for the facts of this chapter.
For thirty-five years Mr. Cooke has been
most prominently identified with all the big
shows, such as W. W. Cole, Forepaugh, Sells,
Barnum & Bailey, Buffalo Bill's Wild West, Pawnee Bill's
Far East, which have knov/n and benefited by his capable
labors.
The facts in this chapter, from Mr. Cooke, who has
followed the Wild West's career, will prove of double
value, interesting and authoritative.
In 1882 the citizens of North Platte, Nebraska, all of
whom were fighting patriots of the most indomitable red,
white and blue stripes, resolved to hold a first Fourth of
July celebration, of the unique and exhilarating character
of the day, with power to select the features for the "Old
[175]
Thrilling Ln^Es
Glory" blow out, and to make all arrangements appertain-
ing thereto. Great was the general surprise, apprehension
and remonstrance when Col. Cody announced that the feats
and festivities of the day would be heroically localized to
include wild buffaloes, wild steers, wild bronchos, wild In-
dians, cowboys, noted plainsmen, personally identified with
recent stirring events, and other strenuous attractions
mostly inclined to buck at the mere sight of civilization.
The attendance was unprecedented for that section, the
w^hole country for a radius of over one hundred and fifty
miles being temporarily depopulated. -. .
Thus in a still distant and debatable region, a wilder-
ness over which the buffalo roamed and the hostile savasre
prowled; under most difficult and dangerous conditions;
in furtherance of a purely patriotic purpose, was roughly
organized an ephemeral celebration, destined through Col.
Cody's efforts and masterful personality to become not
only the progenitor of all the "Frontier Day" State and
Inter-State tournaments since and still given in the West,
and ranking as the most popular attraction at its greatest
holiday gatherings, but to serve as the basic idea for an
American revelation ; border warfare and illustriously il-
lustrative educational entertainment ; the only one of its
[176]
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kind, and which has electrified and conquered the civilized
world, and all the rulers and greatest soldiers, statesmen,
educators, scientists, artists, horsemen and historians
thereof.
Realizing from the strange, spirited and unprecedented
object leason created through his efforts at North Platte,
its magnificent and meritorious possibilities, in 1882 Col.
Cody enthusiastically devoted all his practical knowledge
of the plains and intimate acquaintance and superior in-
fluence with both the white and red denizens thereof, to
the organization of "Buffalo Bill's Wild West," which
gave its initial performance at Omaha, Neb., in May, 1883,
and was witnessed by the writer, and even though then
lacking many of the notable exclusive features and original
living attractions from time to time since introduced, it
scored so instantaneously and heavily that it became fam-
ous in a day, and en route to Boston was greeted by
record-breaking, boundlessly enthusiastic crowds on the
race tracks and in the fair grounds where it was at first
compelled to exhibit. Its season at the Hub was succeeded
by its first one in New York City, at Gravesend Race
Track, where its success was so instantaneous and un-
qualified as, upon its removal to grounds adjoining the
[177]
Thrilling Lives
Brighton Beach Race Track, Coney Island, to induce it
to estabUsh thereon its first enclosed arena and grand
stand. Next in sensationally progressive order came its
extraordinary six months' season in co-operation with Mr.
Erastus Wiman at Erastina, Staten Island, where in the
presence of hundreds and hundreds of thousands, it in-
augurated the precedent for summer open-air exhibitions
which, in various forms, have since come to stay at the big
seaside resorts and elsewhere.
Then came the memorable winter season of 1886-7, in
which Col. Cody set the whole amusement world agog
with wonder and admiration in connection with the "Wild
West," by inaugurating in Madison Square Garden, New
York City, a gigantic new era and departure in colossally
realistic scenic production under the personal direction of
Mr. Louis E. Cooke, with the aid of such famous pro-
ducers as the late Steele Mackey who wrote the scenario
of the great Drama of Civilization ; with scenic effects
from the brush of Mr. Matt Morgan, who was acknowl-
edged as one of the greatest artists of the day, with such
mechanical effects as were worked out by Mr. Nelse Wald-
ron, the master mechanic who devised the first double or
moving stage used in a theatre. Day after day and night
[178]
Before the Queen
after night, the Wild West and Col. Cody attracted
throngs of the illustrious veteran Indian fighters under
whom he had served as Chief of Scouts, in many a hard-
fought campaign, and both native and foreign representa-
tives of every branch of military service. Such authorities
as Sheridan, Sherman, Merritt, Carr and Miles, showered
congratulations and encomiums upon their old friend and
implicitly trusted comrade in arms and on the war path.
Thus heralded and indorsed, in 1887 Bufifalo Bill's Wild
West made its first trip to Europe to prove the most popu-
lar feature of Queen Victoria's Jubilee, held in celebration
of the semi-centennial of her benign reign. Earl's Court,
London, was selected as the location, upon which at an
enormous expense was built a huge arena and a grand
stand of 20,000 seating capacity. These and other im-
provements have been preserved, and Earl's Court is
locally known as "London's Playground." So unparal-
leled was the Wild West's prestige that Queen Victoria
was induced to visit it, and the magnitude of the compli-
ment involved may be inferred from the fact that it was
her Majesty's first public appearance since the death of
her husband, Prince Albert, twenty years before. Nor
did her Majesty's gracious recognition end there, for so
[179]
Thrilling Lives
deeply was she impressed and delighted with the Wild
West's novel, electrifying and educational superexcellence,
that, by her special command, a performance was given for
the entertainment of the three thousand royal representa-
tives assembled from every part of the vast British Em-
pire and the globe, in honor of the Jubilee with which the
fiftieth year of her sovereignty was so joyfully crowned.
On that occasion the Prince of Wales (Edward Seventh),
taking Col. Wm. F. Cody aside, said to him :
''Colonel, look around you and you will see more
Royalty than I ever before have seen at any time, and un-
doubtedly more than ever was assembled on any one oc-
casion in the World's history or is likely ever again to
be."
Returning to New York in 1888, the Wild West ap-
peared for the summer season of that year and for the
second time at Erastina, and in 1889 again crossed the At-
lantic to become the leading attraction of Paris, during the
Exposition Universale, an arena and grand stand having
been built for it the previous winter in the military zone
outside the old walls of Paris, at Nueilley. In the fall of
the same year the exhibition moved to Barcelona, Spain,
and thence crossed the Mediterranean to Naples, Italy,
[i8o]
Indian Outbreak
where it opened January 26, 1890. Passing on to Rome,
the Wild West next visited all of the leading cities of Aus-
tria, Hungary and Germany, including Vienna and Berlin.
The Sioux Indian outbreak at Pine Ridge Agency,
known as the "Ghost Dance War," caused Col. Cody to
peremptorily close his exhibition at Strasburg, Alsace, and
to start post haste to lend a strong hand in the threatened
conflict. The exhibition was put in winter quarters in an
old castle near Banfeldt, and Major Burke, having the big
contingent of Indian Chiefs and braves in charge, sailed
from Antwerp to W^ashington, where in an interview with
President Harrison, and at his special request, they, one
and all, promised to act as peacemakers; which promise
was faithfully and eflfectively kept. Meantime, Col. Cody
had reached the field of action with the rank of Brigadier
General of Militia, and as Advisory Scout to General Nel-
son A. Miles. Subsequently Major General Jesse M. Lee
and John M. Burke were appointed Peace Commissioners
representing the U. S. Government, at a Grand Council
met 10,000 Sioux Chiefs and warriors, and persuaded
them to lay down their arms and make a treaty of peace,
undoubtedly the last of the kind that will ever be required
between the Red Man and the Pale Face.
[i8i]
Thrilling Lives
April 1, 1891, Col. Cody sailed from Philadelphia to re-
join his exhibition, taking with him from Fort Sheridan,
Kicking Bear, Short Bull, and twenty-five other rebellious
Sioux leaders, held as hostages, and who were entrusted to
his care at the special request of General Miles and Sco-
field, that travel and observation might modify their sav-
age prejudices, convince them that the white man, notwith-
standing his infinitely superior numbers and resources, was
not inclined to oppress them, and that in the maintenance
of peace and good will lay their only hope. As a result,
these hostiles became the best and most progressive citi-
zens on the reservations.
Reopening at Strasburg, April 19, the continental tour
included the cities on the Upper Rhine and Brussels, the
capital of Belgium, and then via Antwerp, the wonderful
invasion sailed across to the "tight little isle," and was
continued throughout the provinces of England, until
winter found the exhibition housed in the Exposition
Building at Glasgow^, Scotland, altered to admit of the pro-
duction of the heroic scenic spectacle of war and wilder-
ness, as given in Madison Square Garden, New York City,
five years before.
[1821
Thousands Turned Away
Opened at Earl's Court for the second time, May 7,
1892, and was commanded to appear before Queen Vic-
toria, on the Lawn Tennis Grounds at Windsor Castle;
the first entertainment of any kind given there in the
twenty-five years succeeding the Prince Consort's death.
The honor of a second presentation was also accorded by
Her Majesty, who gave Col. Cody a magnificent signet
ring, and Mr. Nate Salisbury and Major Burke imperial
souvenir pins. Closed season October 12, sailed for
America, October 15, arrived in New York the 26th, im-
mediately began pushing the work of building Buffalo
Bill's Annex to the Chicago World's Fair, opened it in
April, 1893, and to such phenomenally continuous patron-
age, that the attendance rivalled that of the Fair itself.
In the spring of 1894, opened Ambrose Park, Brooklyn,
upon which over one hundred thousand dollars had been
expended in improvements and additional conveniences.
On the road in 1895, and in the spring of 1896 followed
the Barnum & Bailey Show in Madison Square Garden,
in the course of its four weeks' season there being com-
pelled to turn clamoring thousands from its doors from
lack of capacity, every seat being sold from days to weeks
in advance, after which the exhibition began touring the
[183]
Thrilling Lives
country as a traveling organization under the able direc-
tion of Mr. James A. Bailey, and the succeeding five con-
secutive home seasons were also inaugurated in the
Garden and continued with undiminished eclat throughout
the length and breadth of the land, the Dominion of Can-
ada, and as far West as San Francisco, even including
many prosperous cities younger than itself, now orna-
menting the redeemed wilderness, and transforming the
dark and bloody region of its birth. The enthusiasm with
which it was there received is simply beyond adequate
description, and swelled into a continuous ovation most
vigorously participated in by the grizzled old timers, to
whom its historic truthfulness and realistic reproductions
of stirring events, and glorious pastimes, ''all of which
they saw, and part of which they were," appealed like a
resurrecting trumpet. The test it thus courted was the
severest to which it could be put, and the result not only
speaks volumes for its character, but furnished the key-
note of its success throughout the world.
At the close of the traveling season of 1902, Col. Cody
and his army of braves and rough riders of the world,
once more took the trail leading across the big salt waters,
and appeared for the ensuing winter at Olympia, London,
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Cody Eulogized
making farewell tours of England, Scotland and Wales in
1903-4. In 1905, on the famous Champ de Mars, it more
than duplicated its previous rousing Parisian triumphs. In
1906, opening at Marseilles, France, it made its final con-
tinental tour, which included Italy, Hungary, Galicia, Sla-
vonia, Bohemia, Croatia, Belgium, Austria and Germany,
and in November returned home, with added victorious
wreaths bound on its brow, having visited, in the last four
years, countries and principalities that, besides patois,
spoke seventeen different languages.
While this is, and is intended to be, but tittle more than
a summary itinerary of "Buffalo Bill's Wild West and
Congress of Rough Riders of the World," it is alone suf-
ficient to forestall eulogy and establish a firm conviction of
its transcendent wondrous worth and superexcellence as
universally recognized by the stranger abroad as the friend
at home. Thus, Col. Cody and the enterprise of which he
is the creator, stand conspicuously and uniquely alone, as
a mighty and marvelous educative and instructive influ-
ence ; a credit to their country and a delight and benefit to
the world. And as they are, so will they remain.
As may be readily imagined, the difficulties in staging
this monster enterprise were many and varied. For a
[i8s]
Thrilling Lives
number of years Johnny Baker Ijas had active charge of
the arena, his directorship has been nothing less than mar-
velous.
Mr. Baker has been with the exhibition since its incep-
tion, he is the foster son and pupil of Buffalo Bill, and
long has been acknowledged the world's foremost expert
marksman. Mr. Baker has had to manipulate and manoeu-
vre the actions of over one thousand men, women and
horses, a herculean task, one that has been accomplished
to the highest point of efficiency. No stage director in the
world has had as many difficulties to surmount, a generous
portion of credit is due to his ever untiring eflforts.
In the Spring of 1908 Major Lillie was playing an all-
summer engagement at Boston, he made a flying trip to
New York, and following a conference with Colonel
Cody came the announcement of a gigantic merger, the
largest ever consummated in the amusement field.
It was then that the Bufifalo Bill Wild West combined
with Pawnee Bill's Great Far East. The first joint season
commenced at Madison Square Garden in 1909.
[1861
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Jekyll and Hyde of the West.
^AWNEE BILL looked long and carefully at
the hundred thousand dollars. It was the
chance he asked for, he must make good
and make good he did. Reorganizing his
show, he added to it, secured new features
and with the experience of the past it wasn't long before
profits began to appear on the right side of his ledger.
Dollar by dollar his debts disappeared, and a few months '
after all bills had been cleared away the creditors were
surprised by checks in their mail for the entire amount of
interest due from the very first.
For several years he continued with his exhibition. The
struggles and worries of showmanship wore on him. He
had amassed a comfortable fortune and decided to retire to
devote his time to raising buffaloes. He purchased the
[187]
Thrilling Lives
Casey herd then located in Missouri and moved them to
his ranch just south of Pawnee. They became his sole
study. He was successtul beyond all expectations. At that
time there were not over a thousand bison in the country.
Less than a generation before there had been a million.
No one dreamt of their ultimate destruction but it was
closer at hand than the casual student of history was
aware. To the westward march of progress, the blame
has been laid, but Lillie, as many others knew, it was the
failure of the government to take steps necessary to pro-
tect the bison from disappearing altogether. Major Lillie
prepared a bill to be introduced in Congress asking that
immediate action be taken to perpetuate the purely Ameri-
can animal.
At that time the government owned a small herd in Yel-
lowstone Park, but it did not multiply rapidly. The bill
that Lillie wanted introduced in Congress would have pro-
vided an appropriation to secure a ranch far removed from
civilization, as buffaloes do not thrive otherwise. They
multiply better when turned out summer and winter, as
nature intended they should be ; a buffalo calf will survive
a blizzard that would mean death to the toughest of ranch
cattle. Nature has taught them to defy winter and has
[ i88 ]
Offers Buffaloes
provided them with a coat of sufficient warmth to keep
them from suffering with the cold.
Pawnee Bill worked for months to have the matter
taken under consideration but the bills were side-tracked.
Finally his persistence was rewarded by the query :
"Suppose we carry these bills through," asked a Con-
gressman, *''where will we buy the buffaloes ?"
"You don't need to buy them," Pawnee Bill replied, "I
will donate my entire herd to the Government."
Still time dragged on and nothing seemed to be reached
in the shape of a conclusion that Pawnee Bill desired.
Steps were finally taken, however, to preserve the bison
and Major Lillie had won a great victory. For years he
collected all the pure blooded buffalo that he could buy.
He spent most of his time studying their traits. One day
it struck him that a new breed of bison might be discovered
by interlining with domestic cattle ; the experiment proved
a vast success. Pawnee Bill, at this time has the largest
individual herd of pure blooded buffaloes in the world.
In 1907 he reorganized his Wild West and conceived the
idea of adding to it a separate feature "The Far East,"
the latter section being composed of curious peoples from
[189]
Thrilling Lives
far and distant lands. The venture was immensely suc-
cessful.
As showman and banker, Major Lillie met with many
remarkable and amusing incidents. One day he was sit-
ting in his office at the Arkansas City bank in Pawnee,
when an old Indian Chief walked in the room. The true
western spirit of hospitality and man to man equality still
prevails in many sections of the West, even an Indian can
walk in a banker's private office and be entertained.
The Indian had come on business connected with the
show's trip the next season, he wanted some special con-
sideration. It was the first time that he had ever been on
the road, in fact, in all his years he had never left the boun-
daries of the agency.
Just then the telephone rang. The Major talked a few
minutes then hung up the receiver.
"What is that you make talk into," the Chief asked in
surprise ; it was the first telephone he had ever seen. The
Major explained how it worked.
'Tt just talk, white man talk though," the Chief
grunted.
"No, it talk Pawnee too?"
The Chief could not believe it, LiUie went to one of the
[ 190 ]
Signs Bank Notes
outside offices, put an interpreter on the extension and
then gave the receiver to the Chief. For several minutes
the latter talked, with every second his eyes bulging larger
and larger in wonderment.
"What do you think of that ?" Lillie asked.
The old Chief sat still for a minute.
"That's one of the white man's inventions."
"White man very smart, to make that talk white man's
talk, but to make wire talk Pawnee talk, him damn smart."
"Major, excuse me," a clerk said, entering with a hand
full of greenbacks, "will you please sign these."
A telegram a few minutes later called the Major to
Chicago in a hurry. There was a train whistling at the
depot, without stopping Lillie made a dash for it just as
the cars were pulling away from the station. Arriving at
Chicago he transacted his business and stepped up to the
hotel counter to settle his bill. To his amazement he found
that he had only a little small change. He was about to
ask for a check book when he remembered having some
of the unsigned bank notes in his pocket. Pulling out a
sheet of these he asked for pen and ink and then a pair of
scissors. The clerk was thunderstruck, it was the first time
he had ever seen anyone sign greenbacks. Before he had
[191]
Thrilling Lives
recovered his astonishment, LiUie was on his way to a
bank nearby.
After greeting its president and while just sitting down
for a chat, the banker's bell rang, and a second later a
man entered the room.
*'I beg your pardon," he said, addressing himself to the
banker, "do you know this man," pointing to Major Lillie.
"Yes, indeed."
"Well I'm sorry, but I have to place him under arrest."
"Arrest," Lillie exclaimed in surprise. "Who the deuce
are you?"
"Lm from a local detective agency and have been in-
structed to take you in for forging a bank note."
Lillie's face was covered in smiles.
"Come on, sir, or Lll have to put the cuffs on you."
"Why, you idiot," exclaimed the banker, "don't you
know who that is. This gentleman is Major Gordon W.
LiUie."
"That don't entitle him to sign greenbacks, does it?
Anyway he used the name of Pawnee Bill."
"That's the name he is known by among the public who
[192]
MAJOR G. W. LILLIE, CONSULTING HIS GENERAL
MANAGER, LOUIS E. COOKE, AT BLUE
HAWK PEAK. MRS. LILLIE AND HER PET
COYOTE ON THE RIGHT.
Jekyll and Hyde
have witnessed his exhibition, he is a banker and is entitled
to sign greenbacks as the president of his institution."
The detective looked sheepish.
"Well I'll be darned, a showman and a banker and a fel-
low that can sign his own greenbacks — well, talk about
your Jekyll and Hydes, he has 'em all beat a mile."
[193]
CHAPTER XIX
Cody's Last Time On the Battlefield.
?^HE breaking of Indian treaties so frequently
and the invasion of the Black Hills and other
sections by gold seekers, prospectors and
trappers became the cause of constant irri-
tation, leading to almost continual contests,
raids and massacres' on the Western plains. This was the
condition of affairs that really brought on the war of
1875-76, resulting in the Custer fight as well as many of
the succeeding ones.
The forfeiture of the Black Hills and injudicious re-
ductions of rations kept discontent alive among the In-
dians. When in 1889 Congress passed a law dividing the
Sioux reservation into many smaller ones so as to isolate
the different tribes or clans of the Dakotas, a treaty was
submitted, whereby reinstating the cut off rations and
paying for ponies captured or destroyed in the '76 war
[ 195 ]
Thrilling Lives
and for other certain conditions, they ceded about one-
half their land, eleven million acres. Fulfilment of the
conditions was delayed, — postponed, forgotten, almost by
Congress. Even after the land was being settled up.
Congress had still neglected the appropriations and Sit-
ting Bull's power was again in the ascendant. -
At this time, through some mysterious mountain phan-
tom or trickster, the "Medicine Men" became easy victims
of a craze. They believed that the Messiah was coming
'back to earth to use his miraclous power in favor of the
red man, to crush out the whites; to restore everything
to the idealistic condition of former years and re-stock
the ranges with big game. This created a universal fa-
natical fervor, not only among the Sioux but affected all
the Indians on this continent. Former foes became fast
friends, and from the Yaquis in Old Mexico to the Alas-
kan tribes in the Far North, the religious ghost dance
festivities fanned the flames of war. The Medicine Men's
preaching that the holy medicinal ghost shirts would pro-
tect the wearer, turn the white man's bullets, was ac-
cepted and made recruits by the thousands to the cause.
The dancing frightened the settlers, shocked the religious
[196]
Cody to Rescue
philanthropic friends of the Indians and was officially
ordered stopped.
Buffalo Bill was at that time in Alsace-Lorraine with
his Wild West exhibition and had with him seventy-five
Indians. Leaving the exhibition in an old Castle near
Strasbtirg, Cody left on fast trains and hastened on to
the scene of strife in America. The Indians were brought
home by Major Burke, they made a strong peace contin-
gent at Pine Ridge, while, with General Miles' permission.
Col. Cody hastened on to see Sitting Bull in person, feel-
ing sure that his old enemy and later friend would listen
to good advice. In war the great Indian chief was a
bitter foe and Cody's enemy, in peace the two became
friends.
Sitting Bull's claim of the primitive possessions for ages
beyond the white man's coming; of conditions being un-
disturbed for centuries and as the Great Manitou had
ordained were the arguments tliat he advanced. He had
all the old treaties in his head in the Indian legendary man-
ner, also in hieroglyphics; he had a copy of the treaty
that set aside the part of the Dakota for the Sioux use.
And the Big Horn Basin was to be used as a hunting
ground. The old man had this well worn parchment in
[ 197 ]
Thrilling Lives
a buckskin cover and treasured it as one would the arti-
cles or legacy to one's birthright. Sitting Bull had a
very strong, determined face, a splendid head, well set
on a long-bodied short-legged frame.
The fact that Buffalo Bill was willing to take the risk
of acting as peacemaker with the Indian chief, alarmed
some well meaning philanthropists, they divining a sinis-
ter motive in his action. Those who were crying the
strongest for Sitting Bull's suppression now claimed that
his person was endangered by the very man who had
travelled thousands of miles at his own expense, risking
his all and with nothing to gain — Buffalo Bill. . Going
to a hostile camp of Indians, chancing all on the card of
friendship and man to man respect ^ was a dangerous un-
dertaking, but Cody was prompted to do so solely to save
his red brother from a suicidal craze. Influence was
brought to bear on President Harrison and the statement
made that Cody's visit would bring on a war, the chief
executive countermanded the mission. Afterwards Presi-
dent Harrison expressed his regrets to Colonel Cody.
Colonel Drum, commandant at Fort Yates, and
Major McLaughlin were ordered to co-operate to secure
the person of Sitting Bull. Henry Bull, lieutenant of the
[198]
All Police Killed
Indian police, had intimated that the old chief was pre-
paring his horses for a long ride. Couriers were sent to
tell him to quietly arrest Sitting Bull. Major Edmund G.
Fatchet of the Eighth Cavalry and a Hotchkiss gun were
sent to support him.
After a hard ride, just at dawn they saw a man coming
at full speed on Sitting Bull's favorite ''White Horse," a
Kentucky charger that had been presented to him by
Buffalo Bill three years before. The man was an Indian
policeman.
"All police killed," he yelled.
Riding like mad, they arrived to find but few of the
police still alive and still fighting from Sitting Bull's
cabin, being surrounded on all sides. Volley after volley
was poured in unexpectedly on the besiegers and a few
shells from the Hotchkiss scattered them, the beleaguered
were relieved.
The attacking party had reached Sitting Bull's cabin
early in the morning, surrounded it, and capturing the
chief in bed, arrested him. While dressing, his son. Crow-
foot, alarmed the camp. Bull harangued his friends, fren-
zied by the thought, no doubt, that his own tribesmen
w^ere his captors, not feeling for them that respect he
would have had for the military.
[199]
Thrilling Lives
Catch-the-Bear and Strike-the-Kettle dashed in and
fired, hitting Bull Head in the side, who fired and killed
Sitting Bull. The latter, firing as he fell. Shave Head
was shot in the abdomen, and all three fell together. The
fight became general, until the arrival of Major Fatchet
and several police, many of the Ghost dancers were killed.
Thus was ended the life of the chief whose faults and
virtues will long be a subject of discussion, but who will
always stand as the great red chief of the Uncapappa
Sioux. ■■'■
Cody returned to Nebraska, where he was ordered by
Governor Thayer to join the Nebraska National Guard,
with General Colby. Cody was himself a Brigadier Gen-
eral. They entered the battlefield at Pine Ridge and
placed the militia in eflfective position to surround the hos-
tiles. Then Buffalo Bill joined General Miles as advisory
Scout and used his great personal influence to pacify the
Indians. Through General Miles' stern measures and
at the same time diplomatic methods, the greatest planned
of Indian uprisings was quickly suppressed through the
bloody battles of Wounded Knee and The Mission — they
were the last struggle of the red man — ^the finale of all
Indian wars.
[ 200 ]
BUFFALO BILL BIDS YOU GOOD BYE
A SUGGESTION DESIGNED BY LOUIS E. COOKE
FOR THE PROPOSED AIONUMENT TO THE
AMERICAN INDIAN, TO BE ERECTED
IN NEW YORK HARBOR BY MR.
RODNEl.\ WANAMAKER.
W-
CHAPTER XX
Buffalo Bill's Vast Properties.
ACK to the land, back to the farm, is the warn-
ing cry of the nation's most distinguished
social economists — political and commercial
leaders, railroad magnates and statesmen —
conservation, irrigation and subjugation of
arid territory to the husbandmen's productive power is a
national issue.
With the teeming millions of people, with the sense
and judgment from the congested centers, having already
appropriated all the available land, necessity forces atten-
tion to the possibilities in the almost equal number of
virgin acres, classed as arid, that engineering skill can
make even more productive than the naturally watered
districts.
This is the subject of intense discussion today, but
years and years ago plain, practical men conversant with
the immense unpeopled territory of the West, like Col.
Cody, Congressman Cary of Wyoming and others, acted
[201]
Thrilling Lives
as pioneers in advocating a governmental and state move-
ment that would assist in giving additional homes to mil-
lions of our people and thus augment the nation's produc-
tive possibilities, with a certainty, through irrigation. Like
all movements it had to have its missionaries, and it is
one of Col. Cody's (Buffalo Bill) pleasant memories that
with his experience, suggestion and money he was in the
advance guard among those demonstrating the utility,
feasibility and practicability of achievement on these lines.
It was his fortune in the early days, as well as his duty
as an army scout, to learn the secret recesses and impreg-
nable fortresses, furnished them by nature, to which the
aboriginal contestants of the white man's progress re-
treated to live in security and peace. Thus it was that
he, an early hunter, trailed and scouted, in that then most
extremely dangerous and secluded home of the red man,
strongly fortified with immense mountains as a barrier
to encroachment — now known as the Big Horn Basin.
With the army as scout and on expeditions with the gal-
lant Custer, Mills, Carr, Miles and others, he became fa-
miliar with the valley and its surrounding wonderland —
the Yellowstone Park, the Teton Range, the Snowy
[ 202]
Cody Canal Built
Pryor, Shoshone and Big Horn Mountains that separated
it from the rest of the world.
In 1893 Buffalo Bill and many conferees took up the
initiative in bringing about its settlement. He and his
associates acquired under the Cary act the first claims
that were endorsed by the national and state governments
and began the pioneering of its settlement. The opening
struggles in such a scheme are but a repetition of history
and were as usual eventually overcome. The first Cody
canal was built, success and prosperity developed grad-
ually until now the future is assured and the empty valley
is being traversed by railroads finished and many others
projected, thousands of farmers, miners' and prospectors,
so that this vast valley, the size of the State of Massachu-
setts, is dotted with towns and cities.
Progress was so rapid that all the available land under
the first canal was taken and through Col. Cody's influ-
ence and surrender of his proprietary rights to the govern-
ment, the Reclamation Service has been performing one
of its most gigantic tasks in the furthering of future pros-
perity. This is none other than the recently completed
highest dam. in the world, known as the Shoshone Dam.
Buffalo Bill owns thousands of cattle and horses, is
[203]
Thrilling Lives
heavily interested in many mining properties in Arizona
and elsewhere, owns and controls the Irma Hotel at Cody,
Wyo., the Wapiti Inn near Cody on the Yellowstone and
the Pahaska Teepee at the foot of Sylvan Pass, sixty miles
from Cody. ^
For over half a century, Buffalo Bill has been before
the public. He can scarcely be said to have had a child-
hood, he was thrust early among the rough scenes of
frontier life, to play a man's part. He enlisted in the
army before he was of age, and did his share in uphold-
ing 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 sacri-
fice every personal interest and 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 com-
pany, of a town site company, and two transportation com-
panies. He is the foremost seout and champion buffalo
hunter of the world, one of its greatest crack shots and
its great popular entertainer. He is broad-minded and
progressive in his views, inheriting from both father and
mother a hatred of oppression in any form.
[204]
Home, Sweet Home
Taking his mother as a standard, he beheves the fran-
chise is a birthright which would appertain to intclhgence
and education, rather than to sex. It is his pubHc career
that lends an interest to his private life, in which he has
been a devoted and faithful son, 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 his mother's dying words; and honorably
known has his name become, in his own country and be-
yond the seas. He has visited every country in Europe,
and has looked upon the most beautiful of Old World
scenes. He is familiar with all the splendid regions
of his own land but to him the New Eldorado of the
West — the Big Horn Basin — is the fairest spot on earth.
And here, in the shadow of the Rockies, yet in the "very
light of things" it is his wish to round out the cycle of
his days, as he began them, in opening up for those who
come after him the great regions of the still undeveloped
West. It is here that Buffalo Bill wishes once more to
roam, and when the curtain of life finally falls, it will be
his ''Home, Sweet Home."
[205]
/
CHAPTER XXI
Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch and Home.
ef
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fi'
f
n
J
1
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m
te
4
OR years Gordon W. Lillie — Pawnee Bill —
lived in a modest log cabin built by his own
hands. It still stands in Pawnee, Oklahoma,
a memento of his hard work and untiring
efforts to rung the ladder of success.
Throughout privations and adversity, the days of law-
lessness, when brave men were made and tempered
over night, when the government called him to duty
as guide, scout, sheriff, and when the territory was
nearly torn asunder with internecine strife, when vandals
and cutthroats infested every trail, when the effort to
make Oklahoma free for settlers was met with stubborn
resistance by the cattle interests, when he nosed through
every danger a dozen times a day, when blood had to be
spilled in defense of the weak — then Major Gordon W.
Lillie was a man of action, his arm and pocketbook were
[207]
Thrilling Lives
always available for the less fortunate, he was the Indian's
friend, he was the white man's strongest safeguard. After
years of vicissitude and privation he struck his gait, and
after a gradual rise he became in succession white chief
of the Pawnee Tribe, president of the town's leading bank,
and succeeded in making his mark one that will indelible
his great and honored career on the escutcheon of the
State of Oklahoma. Political honors have been offered
and gracefully declined. Major Lillie cared nothing for
this sort of leadership glory, he preferred to remain in the
rank and file and do all in his power to further the inter-
ests of the city that he loves and the State that honors and
respects his conscientious citizenship.
Last December, 1910, his new bungalow was completed.
It stands atop the Blue Hawk Peak, so namied after one
of the greatest of Indian warriors and a great friend of
Major Lillie. Hundreds of invited guests from the elite
centers of Europe and America journeyed out to the
prairie. Cowboy boots and the patent leathers of effete
society toed each other under the Major's hospitable table.
The citizens of Pawnee turned out en masse to welcome
the glorious home-coming of their beloved and esteemed
neighbor — it was an occasion long to be remembered.
[208]
Friends Gather
Artists, writers, men famous in commercial lines and
the bright lights from many professions gathered to do the
Major homage. In testimony of their esteem many famous
artists contributed original and specially painted oil panels
for the bungalow, among these were artists Charles
Schreyvogel, Deming, H. H. Cross, Emil Lenders and
Charles Stevens. Among the others present were : The
Hon. Wm. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill), H. Wilson and wife
of Philadelphia, Dr. Moore, Major John M. Burke, Johnny
Baker, Louis E. Cooke, Albert Lillie, Joseph Miller, of
Bliss, Oklahoma ; S. T. Rock, of Pawnee ; Michael
Russell, of Fargo, North Dakota; Mark L. Stone, of
Paris, France; Henry Valliers, of Vienna; Major Mc-
Laughlin, of Philadelphia, and Frank Winch, of New
York.
A week of hilarity followed. Each day had its own
pleasure — automobile trips in Buick cars over the plains,
Indian dances, small game hunting and receptions, all
topped off with the wondrous spectacle of witnessing
Colonel Cody kill a buffalo as he did years ago.
It was the fulfilment of a promise that Fawnee Bill
had made to himself years afore, to the effect that, should
fortune ever favor him, he would stand loyally with the
[209]
Thrilling Lives
village that loved, respected and helped through his trou-
blesome years of struggle.
The bungalow would grace any exclusive residential
section in the world. It was erected at a cost of
$75,000, and holds within its walls furnishings
and ornaments that approximate $100,000 m.ore. The
structure is of a stone exterior made from the native rock
taken from the location on which it stands.
The town of Pawnee lies nestled at the foot of Major
Lillie's fifteen thousand acres of his buffalo ranch — where-
on graze the largest private herd of buffaloes in the world.
Approach is made through two massive stone gateways,
ornamented with the gilded steel initials "P. B.," which
were made from the rifle barrel once carried by his great
friend and benefactor, Major Frank North.
Circling along a sloping knoll, close to the edge of an
artificial lake with its thousands of gallons of water and
shaded by trees from every section of the world, is a road
laid with tons of low grade ore from one of the extensive
mining properties that the Major owns in Colorado and
Mexico. The drive is a mile to the hill top, at frequent
intervals intersectioned with stone statues indicative of
scenes and characters of the early wild western days.
[210]
Blue Hawk Peak
To your right the eye travels in unobstructed view for
miles, taking in at a glance the new magnificent hospital
and sanitarium that Pawnee Bill erected for the city. A bit
further along you see the ten thousand dollar public school
house that also stands as a memorial to the Major's gen-
erosity. And further yet looms up the old log cabin that
housed Pawnee Bill through his early days of privation
and hardship.
Approaching the hilltop, the eye is staggered with the
beauteous panoramic splendor of scenic glory that unfurls
itself on every side. Blue Hawk Peak is the highest point
of elevation in the county — for miles and miles the eye
ranges over rolling plains^ by day golden brown under a
soft summer-like sun, and by night punctuated here and
there with the sizzling flames of a genuine old time prairie
fire.
The first building approached is the Pawnee and Osage
Indian council and medicine house. A most wondrous
testimonial to the building skill of the native Indians.
Th^re are only two of these structures in the world. Time
and civilization have left but little for the fast disappear-
ing red man. Major Lillie was determined that as long
as he had a home, the friends and foes of an earlier period
[211]
Thrilling Lives
should not want for a place. It is a circular affair, with
walls four feet thick made of stone and mud overlapping
huge timbers set end to end and notched. There is not an
iron nail in the entire building, and the whole was con-
structed by Indian labor according to the plans of former
council houses and paid for by the Major and then do-
nated to the tribe as a perpetual remembrance of his es-
teem and friendship to the Pawnee and Osage Indians.
It is here that they gather in all their regalia, feathers and
fanciful colored blankets for their war dances and exhor-
tations. The ceremonies are of very deep purport to the
Indians and usually last from three days to a week, the
strictest privacy being maintained so that none but the
red men are allowed to> attend.
Continuing on, you reach the old settler's cabin, an exact
replica of the only kind of dwelling known in the frontier
days. A huge log cabin with every detail carried out to
its minutest point. There are three rooms, the center
being the living room and flanked on both sides with bed-
rooms of generous proportions and equipped with just
such crude furniture as one would find in the days of '59.
The center room has a seven foot open fireplace, dirt
floors, the old-fashioned cupboard with its heavy crockery
[212]
Elegant Mansion
and tins, the walls are embellished with trophies of the
chase, several rifles that were used in warfare, Indian
relics, blankets, tomahawks, arrows and scalping knives.
To the Easterner, this cabin presents a world of sugges-
tions for deep study and retrospective thought.
A bit further along is the garage and stable. An ele-
gant pile of native stone and hardwood, in keeping with
the general exterior finish scheme of the bungalow. There
are three automobiles, a dozen of the finest equipages and
fifteen blooded Arabian and Kentucky horses. A few steps
more and the bungalow.
If Aladdin of the Arabian Nights were to arrive today
and wanted to astound the community with a building
venture he would borrow the plans from which Pawnee
Bill erected his home. Fifth Avenue in New York would
nudge elbows with its neighbor in genuine pride were
it placed there.
The house is constructed with native stone taken from
the site on which it stands. The hardwood interior is all
selected from the rarest and most expensive materials that
go to make any home elegant. There is a spread of re-
fined lavishness on all sides.
Entering through massive stone arches, you twist the
[213]
Thrilling Lives
knob and stand beneath the buffalo head that Pawnee shot
when a boy, the meat of which saved his command of
scouts from starving to death. The interior of the house
beggars description of photographer's art or writer's abil-
ity to hinge words together. The main living room is
rugged with Oriental weavings, the furniture is leathered
in red, setting against dark and precious woods ; a monster
ten foot open fire place with solid bronze hand irons, its
merry glow of warmth extends the hearty cheer and hos-
pitality that awaits from host and hostess — the gallant
and smiling Major and his sweet, charming wife, Mrs.
Lillie, who will be remembered before her retirement as
the most expert womian rifle shot that the world ever
knew.
Drop chandeliers of diamond cut glass radiate a dazzle
of electricity generated from the Major's private plant,
walls leathered in brown with gold stained burlap frieze
creeping up to an old Dutch ceiling. To the right is a
cozy little den, floor tiled with red and white flagstones,
the furniture is weathered oak and another open fire place
adds warmth and glow. The windows in both rooms
reach the floor, the glass being the very finest imported
bevel plate. The dining room is a spacious affair, a seven-
[214]
Pawnee's First Citizen
foot diamond cut glass chandelier dropping down to with-
in a few feet of the table that will seat fifty guests, the
walls carry tapestries made in the seventeenth century.
To one side is a bay window with plate glass, running
nearly twenty feet in length, topping over a leather cov-
ered window seat.
The bedrooms are in various tints and furnishings, here
and there are scattered monster rugs of buffalo, bear or
lion. The silverware came from Tiffany's, New York, the
linen and dining room service were made to order in dif-
ferent parts of Europe. Throughout is readily seen the
effects of lavish and tasty expenditure, the walls are hung
with oils of the finest masters.
With the Indian council house, the old settler's cabin,
and the up-to-date bungalow of present-day civilization,
Major Lillie has erected a splendid reminiscent .ribute to
past, present and future. He struggled hard, fought
square and to-day Pawnee. Oklahoma, is right well proud
of its famous and highly esteemed first citizen.
[215]
WSSMSSS->&SSl&kS^^ii!&Si'f&SlS!s&.
BUFFALO BILL— "THE FAREWELL SALUTE.'
CHAPTER XXII.
Buffalo Bill's Farewell in the Saddle.
aOOD-BYE, Buffalo Bill. Good-bye," ten
thousand voices shouted, no, not shouted,
shrieked, as the famous scout made his final
salute and bow, -to New York at Madison
Square Garden, New York City, at the con-
clusion of the engagement there in May, 1910. The an-
nouncement was made that Colonel Cody was beginning a
tour of the country that would be his last — his positive
farewell in the saddle.
I was one of the ten thousand present at Madison
Square Garden on that never-to-be-forgotten night. New
York couldn't seem to realize that it would never see
the old plainsman in the arena again. Every perform-
ance was packed with thousands of his enthusiastic
friends and admirers. Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill
had joined forces, it was a tremendous exhibition. And
[217]
Thrilling Lives
Buffalo Bill told us that he would never come back to
New York as the active head of the great institution that
he had fathered and fostered through nearly thirty years
of wondrous success. He looked about him for a man
worthy to carry his mantle of command and one entitled
to carry out the great project that he had started. Pawnee
Bill was the only logical choice.
New York could not realize that Buffalo Bill will here-
after only be linked to it in history.
"Buffalo Bill isn't ever going to come back," a man sit-
ting near me said to a youngster at his side.
"Gee, ain't that tough," and the lad meant it.
Just imagine over ten thousand throats raspy from
cheering, ten thousand men, women and children standing
atop seats and railings, hats in hand, umbrellas and canes
waving — a hundred spotlights pushing sunshine through
every crevice of flag-tinted Madison Square, a thousand
more men, women and horses, elephants and camels sprin-
kled over the tan-bark — then picture Buffalo Bill, as dash-
ingly handsome as ever, on a prancing horse, and the
music — picture this and you get only a mental glimpse
at the Garden when the memorable farewell season began.
Nothing like it has ever been seen before, nothing can
[ 218 ]
Wonderful Exhibition
ever approach this nonpareil consummation of artistic
achievement. Buffalo Bill had scoured the Wild West,
Pawnee Bill had drawn a fine-tooth comb through the
burning sands of Oriental deserts — the result, a most
amazing combination. Cowboy, Indian, Cossack and
Moslem, contribute deeds of daring that fringe the danger
line of death. None seemed happy unless coquetting with
Madame Disaster, and yet withal, it's so apparently easy,
so triflingly inconsequential, that even the most timid are
rapture-bound.
There is no trickery in the exhibition, there is no re-
sorting to magical artifice, there's nothing left to routine ;
it's just dare-devil chance. I saw rider after rider tossed
mid-air — a loose clod of dirt, a slipping surcingle, a
broken bridle, these are the things that unlock the injury
sprites.
No eye so trained, no brain so quick, no muscle so
brawny but what Fate or accident can't master. When
you realize this and realize that every participant in the
spectacle before you is master of its own destiny for only
a tiny fortuitous second — then you realize just how truly
wonderful is the exhibition that you're witnessing. The
[219]
Thrilling Lives
circus has its dangers, but the element of chance is en-
tirely ehminated when you parallel the risks.
Every child or man among us has immortalized the
name of Buffalo Bill. He is the living epitome of uncivil-
ized America. We watch him in mimic warfare, his ac-
coutrements dazzling, his mount slickened with care and
grooming, his every appearance denoting peace and con-
tentment, admiring thousands cheering as he sweeps a
graceful acknowledging bow, this is what we see, and this
is all that the most of us have ever seen, but — ^take a min-
ute away from to-day, turn back the page, there's an
Indian scout, tattered., half-famished, blood streaked, a
trusty rifle balancing, an eye-glance as true as the steel
over which it looks, death and carnage on every side; a
horde of wild, bepainted, gore-thirsty red demons lurking
in ambush.
I wonder if Colonel Cody ever thinks of those days —
I wonder if Major Lillie ever thinks of them? The fron-
tiersman has gone. Cooper did much to send him down
to posterity, but Cooper was impossible in his unrealities.
The leather-stocking heroes of his fiction were not actuali-
ties. We have the living, breathing history before us to-
[ 220]
A Hundred Years Hence
day, in Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill. But they are the
last.
Time will come when the cowboy must go in training
schools to learn to shoot and ride. And all this makes
the exhibition the more remarkable. In the box next to
mine sat the richest man that America has ever known. I
wondered what his thoughts were as the old stage-coach
rumbled in. King Commercial met King Plainsman face
to face that night.
Major LilHe stood at the entrance with elbows athwart
the rail. Possibly not a hundred, except friends, recog-
nized that sturdy, rugged face. I wondered if the scene
recalled olden days to him. The time when but an adven-
ture-seeking youngster he ran away from home to seek
his fortune in the West — to roam the plains, to become
an adopted son of Mother Nature, when he waded icy
streams thigh high and finally joined Trapper Tom.
From that day on Pawnee Bill grooved his way
through hardships to high honors. These are the things
that caught a flicker of my thought. I wonder a hundred
years hence who will be our Buffalo Bill or Pawnee Bill,
or will Grandma take the youngster aknee and read to-
day's and yesterday's history?
[ 221 ]
Thrilling Lives
Just then a shout, a piercing, shrieking hi, hi, ke, yep
hee, torn toms, warwhoops, and a mad dashing body of
horsemen, white and red, raced on the bark. A most
imposing spectacle — the Far West greets the Occidental
East. Copper-skins from the world's opposite corners
vie with each other in feats of extreme horsemanship. A
second later and then another yell, this time from the lusty-
throated cowboys, and what a yell — and what riding, and
what horses. In quick succession equestrian experts from
everyw^here, Sioux and Cheyenne Indians, cowboys, Mexi-
cans, scouts, guides, veteran members of the U. S. Sixth
Cavalry, a group of Wild West rosy-cheeked girls, Aus-
tralian bushmen, Arabians, Japanese and Cossacks pranced
into position.
Suddenly a hundred spotlights flooded the arena, mar-
tial music blared, the curtains parted, and in rushed Col-
onel Cody, the greatest of all living scouts. Sweeping ac-
knowledgments to the cheering throngs, he charged
straight for the front. The great performance was on.
As the final curtain was about to close, the stormi of
pent-up enthusiasm broke — Cody was greeted with ring-
ing cheers and insistent demands for a speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen — and you, my little friends 'way
[ 222 ]
Cody's Farewell
up there in the gallery, I thank you." The old scout sat
erect in saddle, there was a tremble in his voice. '*I am
about to go home for a well-earned rest. Out in the
West I have my horses, my buffaloes, my sturdy, staunch,
old Indian friends — my home and my green fields, but I
never see them green. When my season is over the hill-
sides and the meadows have been blighted by a wintry
frost and the sere and yellow leaves cover the ground. I
want to see nature in its prime, to enjoy a rest from active
life. My message to you to-night is one of farewell
(the old scout's voice filled with emotion). Thirty years
ago you gave me my first welcome here. I am grateful
for your continued loyal devotion to me. During that
time many of my friends among you and many of those
with me have been long since gathered to the great un-
known arena of another life — there are only a few of us
left. When I went away from here each year before I
merely said good night — this time it will mean good-bye.
To my little friends in the gallery and the grown-ups who
used to sit there, I thank you once again. God bless you
all — good-bye."
A deathly silence spread over the vast assemblage, the
old scout's horse backed to the arena's end — the animal
[ 223 ]
Thrilling Lives
knelt before a huge statue of an Indian camp. Through
its base flashed the word ''farewell." Then, awakening
from its stupor, the throng, realizing that they were look-
ing for the last time on the greatest hero the plains ever
knew, broke in ringing cheers.
"Good-bye, Buffalo Bill, good-bye! God bless you,
too !" There v/as not a dry eye in the Garden.
The End.
[224]
MR 23 1931
