STATE OF NEBRASKA.
To all whom these presents shall come, greeting:
Know ye, that I, John M. Thayer, governor of the State of Nebraska, reposing special trust and confidence in the integrity, patriotism, and ability of the Hon. William F. Cody, on behalf and in the name of the State do hereby appoint and commission him as aide-de-camp of my staff, with the rank of colonel, and do authorize and empower him to discharge the duties of said office according to law.
In testimony I have hereunto subscribed my name and caused to be affixed the great seal of the State.
Done at Lincoln this 8th day of March, A. D. 1887.
GRAND SEAL OF THE
STATE OF NEBRASKA,
MARCH 1, 1887.
John M. Thayer.
By the Governor:
G. L. Laur,
Secretary of State.
CHAPTER IX.
BUFFALO BILL’S BOYHOOD.
Having in the preceding pages given the scenes, conditions, surroundings, and types of characters that made up the theater of action in which Buffalo Bill bore so prominent a part, with the letters from gallant commanders stamping his career with the brand of truth, it is fitting to start my hero from the threshold of boyhood, and follow him through his most adventurous and phenomenal life up to the present day, where he stands unchallenged as the Chevalier Bayard of American bordermen.
Buffalo Bill made his debut upon the stage of life in a little log cabin situated in the backwoods of Scott County, Iowa. His father and mother were good honest people, poor in this world’s goods, but rich in hope, faith in each other and the result of their efforts, and confidence in the future.
While struggling for success as a farmer Isaac Cody became seriously affected by the California gold fever that raged at that time; a party was organized, an outfit provided, and a start was made. A failure resulted, and all comprising the party returned to their respective homes at La Clair.
Bill was sent to school, where he familiarized himself with the alphabet; but further progress was arrested by a suddenly developed love for boating on the Mississippi, which occupied so much of his time that he found no convenient opportunity for attendance at school, his parents, however, not having the slightest idea of his self-imposed employment as a boatman.
Shortly after his removal to La Clair Mr. Cody was chosen justice of the peace, then was elected to the Legislature, positions which he held with honor but without profit.
A natural pioneer, he hunted for new fields of adventure, and following his inclination he disposed of a small ranch he owned, packed his possessions in one carriage and three wagons, and started for the plains of Kansas. Mr. Cody had a brother living at Weston, near the Kansas line, a well-to-do merchant of that place, with whom he stopped until he could decide upon a more desirable location for his family. It was on this trip that Buffalo Bill had his first sight of a negro, of whom he stood in great awe. It was also while on this expedition he ate his first wheat bread, something he had never heard of before, corn-dodgers being the chief staff of life at that time.
Mr. Cody remained but a short while at Weston, when he went to the Kickapoo Agency in Leavenworth, Kan. He established a trading-post at Salt Creek Valley, while he settled his family upon a ranch near by. At that time Kickapoo was occupied by numerous tribes of Indians, who were settled upon the reservations, and through the territory ran the great highway of California and Salt Lake City. In addition to the thousands of gold-seekers who were passing through by way of Fort Leavenworth, there were many Mormons going westward, and this extensive travel made trade profitable. With these caravans were those fractious elements of adventurous pioneering, the typical Westerner, with white sombrero, buckskin clothes, long hair, moccasined feet, and a belt full of murderous bowies and long pistols. Instead of impressing him, however, with trepidation, they inspired in him an ambition to become likewise. Their skillful feats of horsemanship, which he witnessed, bred in him a desire to become an expert rider, and when, at seven years of age, his father gave him a pony the measure of his happiness was filled to overflowing. Thenceforth his occupation was horseback-riding, and he made himself useful to his father in many ways.
During his early life at this post Buffalo Bill spent much of his time with the Indians, who taught him how to shoot with bow and arrow, and he joined in their other sports, soon learning the Kickapoo language more readily than he had his alphabet. Being friendly with the Indians Mr. Cody at times gave them barbecues, at which they indulged in their fantastic war-dances, the sight of which excited admiration in the youthful William. It was at this time that Buffalo Bill first met his friend Alexander Majors of the freighting firm of Russell & Majors, and he has since then been his lifelong friend.
Writers of American history are familiar with the disorders which followed upon the heels of the Enabling Act. The western boundary of Missouri was ablaze with the camp-fires of intending settlers. Thousands of families were sheltered under the canvas of the ox-wagons, awaiting the announcement of the opening of the Territory; and when the news was heralded they poured over the boundary-line and deluged the new domain. Those who came from Missouri were intent upon extending slavery into the Territory, while those who came from Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana were opposed to bringing slaves into the new Territory. It was over this question that the border warfare began; men were shot down in their homes, by the fireside, in the furrows behind the plow; widows and orphans multiplied; the arm of industry was paralyzed. The incendiary torch lit up the prairie, burning homes and destroying their storehouses and granaries. Anguish sat on every threshold, pity had no abiding-place, and for several years the besom of destruction rendered every heart on the borderland sad and despondent. In this war of vengeance the Cody family did not escape. One night a body of armed men surrounded the Cody home. Knowing what they had come for, Mr. Cody disguised himself and walked out of the house and managed to escape. Discovering this, the band carried off all the valuables in the house and about the premises, drove off the horses, and Bill’s pony among them; but the pony escaped and came back to his young master. Learning that another attempt was to be made to capture Mr. Cody, having learned of his hiding-place, Mrs. Cody started Bill off on his pony to give warning to his father of his danger. The boy had ridden only a few miles when he came upon a party of men camped at the crossing of Stranger Creek. Hearing one of them call out, “That is Cody’s son, catch him,” the brave lad instantly started to dash through them, knowing that it was a matter of life and death to his father. He was instantly pursued, but eluded capture, joined his father, and warned him of his danger. From that time on Mr. Cody’s visits to his home were made secretly, and soon after it was that he lost his life, dying from the effects of a wound he received.
After the death of his father, though a mere boy, Buffalo Bill applied for employment to Mr. Alexander Majors of the firm of Majors & Russell, overland freighters. Mr. Majors said to him:
“Billy, my boy, I will give you $25 a month as messenger, and this sum is what I pay a man for the same work.”
Bill gladly accepted the offer, and at ten years of age began work. For two months, mounted on a little gray mule, Bill’s duties were to herd cattle. At the end of that time he was paid his $50 in one-half dollar pieces, and, putting the bright silver coins into a sack, he started for home, feeling himself a millionaire. Every dollar of that money he gave to his mother. Thus began his services for the firm of Majors & Russell, afterward Russell, Majors & Waddell, in whose employ he spent seven years in different capacities, such as messenger, wagon-master, pony-express rider, and stage-driver.
LITTLE EMMA, DAUGHTER OF LONG WOLF.
CHAPTER X.
BILL KILLS HIS FIRST INDIAN.
Like all boys Bill had a sweetheart with whom he was “dead in love,” in a juvenile way, of course. He had a rival of whom he was terribly jealous. One day, attacked by his rival, who was an older and larger boy, Buffalo Bill defended himself with his pocket-knife, wounding the youth slightly. The cry at once arose, “Bill Cody has killed Steve Gobel!” and, terribly frightened at what he had done, Bill immediately took refuge in flight, the teacher in hot pursuit. Fortunately for Bill one of Russell & Majors’ freight trains was passing beyond the hills on its way to the West. Reaching it he recognized the wagon-master with whom he had before served. He was concealed in one of the wagons until night, when he went to his home, bade his mother and sisters good-by, and continued on with the train to the far West. The trip proved one of delightful experience to the boy, and on his return he was paid off with the rest of the employes, when he went to herding cattle for the same firm.
After a few months spent at this work, he started with a herd of beef-cattle for Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston’s army, which was then marching across the plains to fight the Mormons. Reaching South Platte River they were camped for dinner, and had no idea of danger near, when, with shouts and yells, a band of Indians dashed in upon them. A hot fight followed, and three of the party were killed. Buffalo Bill, with the rest of the band, was driven to seek safety under the river-bank, keeping the Indians at a safe distance with their guns. It was on this occasion that Buffalo Bill killed his first Indian, being at that time but eleven years old. As the cattle had been stampeded by the Indians, and the horses also, the little party was forced to return to Fort Kearney. After many hardships and passing through many dangers, the fort was reached, though several of the party were wounded and had to be carried by their comrades. A company of cavalry and force of infantry, with one gun, were sent out to endeavor to capture the cattle, Buffalo Bill and his comrades accompanying the expedition. Upon reaching the place where the fight occurred, the bodies of their comrades were found literally cut to pieces, and but few of the stampeded cattle were captured.
Upon his return to Fort Leavenworth the young Indian fighter found that he was published far and wide as the youngest Indian killer on record; in fact a juvenile celebrity. What bearing this taste of laudation had on his future career may easily be inferred.
The following summer Buffalo Bill engaged at $40 per month, in gold, to go with the wagon-trains carrying supplies to Gen. Albert S. Johnston’s army. The trail of the train was through Kansas into Nebraska, near the Big Sandy, then running sixty miles along the Little Blue, striking the Platte River near old Fort Kearney; then up the South Platte, then across to the North Platte, near the mouth of the Blue Water, where General Harney fought his great battle in 1865 with the Sioux and Cheyenne Indians. From this point the train continued on to the Great Salt Lake Valley. At that time Russell, Majors & Waddell had upon the overland trails nearly seven thousand wagons; 75,000 oxen, 2,000 mules, and 8,000 men were employed, while the capital invested amounted to $2,000,000. The expedition was without adventure of importance until the South Platte River was reached. The country was alive with buffalo roaming in all directions, and among them were found some of the herd of cattle stampeded by the Indians long before. Discovering the herd of buffaloes ahead, they at the same time sighted a party of returning Californians, and, being between two fires, the buffalo herd stampeded at once, and broke down the hills, some thousands of them rushing through the wagon-train. Wagons were turned over, poles were broken, buffaloes were mixed up among the terrified oxen and shouting men, who were unable to manage their teams. Many of the oxen broke their yokes and stampeded, and the frantic buffaloes played havoc with the train. This caused several days’ delay to repair damages and gather up the scattered teams. When the train reached within eighteen miles of the Green River, in the Rocky Mountains, a party of twenty horsemen came up. They were covered at once with guns, and the wagon-train men found that they were in the hands of the Mormons, who were at that time engaged in hostilities against the Army of the United States. It was impossible to resist, and Simpson was forced to submit, first, however, soundly abusing the apostles.
The Mormons took from the wagons all the provisions they could carry, then set fire to the train and drove off the oxen. The trainmen, however, were allowed to retain their arms, one wagon, six yoke of oxen, and provisions enough to last the party until Fort Bridger could be reached.
It was late in November when the party reached the fort, and they decided to spend the winter there, in company with about four hundred other employes of Russell, Majors & Waddell, rather than attempt to return, which would have exposed them to many dangers and the severity of the coming winter. During this period of rest the commissary became so depleted that the men were placed on one-quarter rations; and at last, as a final resort, the poor, dreadfully emaciated mules and oxen were killed for food for the famishing men.
Fort Bridger being located in a prairie, fuel had to be carried nearly two miles, and after the mules and oxen were butchered the men were compelled to carry the wood on their backs or haul it on sleds.
But for the timely arrival of a train-load of provisions for Johnston’s army many of the party would certainly have died of hunger.
Arrangements having been made for a return to Fort Leavenworth, all the employes at Fort Bridger concluded to accompany the returning cavalcade. Simpson was chosen brigade wagon-master of the new outfit, consisting of two trains and 400 men.
When the train approached Ash Hollow Simpson decided to leave the main road and follow the North Platte to its junction with the South Platte. The two trains had become separated, some fifteen or twenty miles between them, the latter train in charge of Assistant Wagon-master George Woods, under whom Billy was acting as “extra.”
Simpson, accompanied by Woods, desiring to reach the head train, ordered Billy to “cinch” (saddle) up and follow him. When the three reached Cedar Bluffs they suddenly discovered a score of Indians emerging from the head of a ravine less than half a mile distant and coming toward them with great speed.
“Dismount and shoot your mules,” was the quick order issued by Simpson, who was at once alive to the situation. As the stricken animals dropped in their tracks the two men and little boy crouched down behind their bodies, which lay together in a triangle, and using their dead bodies as breastworks opened fire on the Indians with Mississippi yagers and revolvers, killing three and wounding two ponies. The redskins, surprised at the hot-bed they had struck, circled around and sped away again, halting several hundred yards distant, evidently for consultation. This gave the trio time to load their weapons and prepare for a second charge, which they felt sure would be made.
The Indians were armed with bows and arrows, which of course required close range to be effective, and this gave the little party an advantage which partly compensated for the superior number of their enemy.
Little Billy showed so much pluck in the dangerous position he occupied that Simpson could not help praising him, and by way of further encouragement he said:
“My brave little man, do you see that Indian on the right, riding out from the party to reconnoiter?”
“Yes, I’m watching him,” was the reply.
“Well, suppose you give him a shot, just by way of experiment.”
Billy at once extended himself, and resting his gun on the body of the mule before him took steady aim and fired.
“Bully boy! A splendid shot!” shouted Simpson, as he saw the Indian topple from his horse, struck in the side. The distance was fully three hundred yards.
After a long parley the Indians scattered, and came charging back again, whooping in a delirium of excitement. When they had approached within less than one hundred yards the besieged party turned loose on them, shooting two more out of the saddle; but the Indians rushed on, discharging a shower of arrows, one of which pierced George Woods’ right shoulder, producing a most painful wound. For a second time the red warriors were repulsed, and they drew off again, evidently for the purpose of resorting to other tactics. Getting beyond the range of the yagers the Indians formed in a large circle, tethered their ponies, and disposed themselves for a siege, with the evident intention of starving out the brave trio. About three hours afterward, however, the cracking of bull-whacker’s whips was heard, and soon the advancing train was seen coming over the hill. The Indians, appreciating what this meant, and gaining their ponies, rode down on the little party again, discharging another flight of arrows and receiving a volley of bullets in return. No damage was inflicted on either side in the last charge, and the three were saved.
After bandaging Woods’ wound the train started again, and met with no further detention or accident, reaching Leavenworth in July, 1858. Wild Bill had been a special companion of Billy’s during the entire trip, and so warm had become the attachment between them that the latter gave him a pressing invitation to go with him to his home for a short visit; an invitation that was accepted by Wild Bill.
CHAPTER XI.
THE BOY MINER.
Billy had been at home scarcely one month before he engaged himself as assistant wagon-master to another train which was made up at Fort Laramie to carry supplies to a new post just established at Cheyenne Pass. He got through this adventure without losing a team or a man.
Returning to Laramie he engaged with a Mr. Ward, the post trader, to trap for beaver, mink, and otter on the Chug Water, and poison wolves for their peltries. This enterprise was not profitable, and two months after Billy returned to Laramie, and in a few days, in company with two others, he started back to Leavenworth.
When they reached the Little Blue the three were jumped by a party of Indians. The darkness saved them, after a chase of several hours. After “losing” the Indians the trio discovered a cave in which they resolved to spend the night. Lighting a match they were horrified to find the place tenanted by the bones and desiccated flesh of murdered emigrants. Without further investigation the three, badly frightened, regardless of cold and snow, pushed rapidly onward. An all-night journey brought them to Oak Grove, and there taking in a fresh supply of necessaries they resumed their homeward march, reaching Leavenworth in February, 1859.
Billy was now fourteen years old, and unusually large for one of that age. His education having been neglected he, yielding to his mother’s entreaties, resolved to attend a school just opened in the neighborhood of Grasshopper Falls, and for a period of ten weeks applied himself with diligence and made most gratifying progress. This was the longest term of schooling he ever attended, and it is doubtful if all the schooling he ever received would aggregate six months; though he is now comparatively well educated, his knowledge has been acquired almost wholly by extensive travel and association with polished people.
On the return of spring the old impulse seized on Billy again to seek the far West, where adventure and danger incite the restless spirit of brave men. The recent discovery of gold at Pike’s Peak was a further motive for this move.
Billy, despite his years, was now a man in size, and in common with thousands of others he seized a pick and set out for the wonderful diggings. After digging around Aurora for a few days the ignis fatuus led him farther up the mountains to Black Hawk, where he settled, and worked most assiduously for a period of two months without finding as much as a handful of pay dirt. In the meantime provisions were so high that it took a Jacob’s ladder to reach the smell of cold beans.
Billy became not only tired but disgusted with the result of his mining labors and resolved to get out of the country. He had no difficulty in finding others in camp of the same turn of mind as himself, and such as he desired as companions he induced to accompany him back. Of the numerous caravans and individuals who adopted as their motto “Pike’s Peak or bust,” Billy and his party fell back on the latter end of the bold legend. They were so badly “busted” (?), in fact, that the only conveyance left them was their legs. Setting out on these the party proceeded to the Platte River, where the idea possessed Billy that they might make the remainder of their journey to Leavenworth on an improvised raft.
By various means, but chiefly by killing game along the way, the party subsisted comfortably while they floated down the stream on a rickety collection of logs. Matters were satisfactory enough until they reached Jule’s ranch, or Julesburg, where having met a swifter current the raft struck a snag and went to pieces with a suddenness no less astonishing than the bath which instantly followed. Fortunately, though the North Platte is a broad stream it is generally shallow, and the party had to swim but a short distance before they found a footing, and then waded ashore.
Everything having been lost with the raft, including their arms and such provisions as they had, the party stopped at Julesburg to wait for something to turn up.
It so happened that the great Pony Express had just been established between Omaha and Pike’s Peak, and other far Western points, including San Francisco. This route ran by Julesburg, where the company had an agent in the person of George Chrisman, who was well acquainted with Billy, the two having freighted together for Russell, Majors & Waddell.
Finding Billy out of employment, and express riders being scarce, Chrisman offered him a position as rider, which was gladly accepted.
The requirements for this occupation were such that very few were qualified for the performance of the duties. The distance and time required to be made were fifteen miles per hour. Only courageous men could be employed on account of the dangers to be encountered, and such laborious riding could be endured by very few. Nevertheless Billy was an expert horseman, and having the constitution and endurance of a bronco he braved the perils and duties of the position and was assigned to a route of forty-five miles.
CHAPTER XII.
STORY OF THE PONY EXPRESS.
The glamour and pageantry of the crusaders in the eleventh and twelfth centuries were revived in the fifteenth and sixteenth by Columbus, Cortez, and Pizarro, and repeated in the nineteenth by Taylor, Scott, Doniphan, and Fremont. As a resultant were the wonderful gold discoveries of 1849, in California, and a State born full-fledged and armed in a day, as Minerva from the brain of Jove. Among the wonderful and prolific accomplishments of Western thought and genius was the conception and successful fruition of the Pony Express, a scheme that could only have been conceived and launched amid the mountain grandeur of the Western plains. It could have birth in no other place, and can be duplicated nowhere else. The world presents no theater for its reënactment. It was formulated by Senator Gwinn of California, and fashioned and matured to success by Russell, Majors & Waddell of the overland mail coach system of 1859, as established by Congress.
RIDING PONY EXPRESS.
The telegraph extended from the Atlantic seaboard to St. Joseph and from San Francisco to Sacramento. Two thousand miles of desert intervened. The ocean communications, via Central America, occupied twenty-two days, with propitious sea voyages. Could this be reduced? The stages took from twenty-one to twenty-five days, according to the weather. Duke Gwinn, as he was afterward called, suggested to W. H. Russell of the stage line that if the time could be shortened for communication on a central line, and kept open all the year, a great increase of travel and emigration, and the location of a railroad by the Government on a central route, would be the result. The conference resulted in the habiliment of the Pony Express, which eventuated in carrying a telegraph mail upon ponies from St. Joseph to Sacramento, 1,982 miles, regularly, from April, 1860, to September, 1861, in ten days, schedule time, and the special express in December, 1860, with a message of President Buchanan to Congress, on secession, in seven days and seventeen hours, a feat never before and never again to be accomplished. This was done through a desert country occupied by prowling savages and swept by violent storms, furious blizzards, and blinding snows. Crossing immense mountain ranges and trackless wastes of sand and sage-brush, grappling with mountain torrents and with nature’s wildest orgies, the hardy riders, whose watchword was “excelsior,” always made (Deo volente) the schedule time to the objective point. At St. Joseph and Sacramento, until the completion of the telegraph across the continent, the expectant crowd was never held in wait over an hour before the messenger waved his red flag of safety, and in the next instant slid from his panting steed and hastened to the office of the company with his bag of dispatches, worth its weight in gold.
During the Mexican War Congress added two new regiments of mounted volunteers to the regular army under orders to lay out a military road on the route taken by Fremont in 1843 to Oregon. They were to locate posts, and changed old Fort Kearney, then at the mouth of Tabor Creek, where Nebraska City is now located, to the crossing of the Platte River, where Kearney is now situated, and called it New Fort Kearney, one at Laramie on the Platte River, fifty miles north of Laramie City, now a station situated on the Union Pacific Railroad, and one at old Fort Hall, a Hudson Bay trading-post near the present site of Pocatella. This was called the military route, and was the road traveled by most of the emigrants to California in 1849. Passing by Soda Springs and south of Snake River to the headwaters of the Humboldt, or St. Marys River, through Nevada, it passed through the South Pass and struck Bear River, now in Idaho and Utah. The emigration of 1850 diverged southward from Laramie and past Green River at its junction with Hams Fork, through Echo Cañon and Salt Lake Valley westwardly via Reese River, striking the Humboldt lower down, and crossing the Sierra Nevada at the Truckee Pass and by Donner Lake. This was a much more direct trail to California and was used mostly thereafter by emigrants in 1850–51. In 1854 two stage routes were established, one by Texas and El Paso, on the Gila River, to Southern California, and one via Salt Lake, the latter much the shorter, but mountainous. McGraw & Co. had the route on the military road from Independence by Fort Leavenworth under a government subsidy, and in 1859 Russell, Majors & Waddell became the owners of this mail line and operated it successfully for years.
In 1859 Senator Gwinn, then United States Senator from California, and a devoted Union man, appealed to the stage company to expedite travel and communications on the military road, so as to have a central line available to the North and South alike, and to demonstrate the possibilities of operating it in midwinter. Strange to say, this grand Union man and able statesman went into the Rebellion and lost his wonderful prestige and influence in California, as well as a fortune, in his fealty to his native State of Mississippi, and in 1866 was made the Duke of Sonora by Maximilian, in the furtherance of some visionary scheme of Western empire, but soon died. His propositions were duly considered and responded to by that famous firm, representatives of thrift, enterprise, energy, and courage, who well deserve the commendation of history and the gratitude of their countrymen.
Russell was a Green Mountain boy, who before his majority had gone West to grow up with the country; and after teaching a three-months’ school on the frontier of Missouri had hired to old John Aull of Lexington, Mo., at $30 per month, to keep books, and was impressed in lessons of economy by the anecdotes of Aull that a London company engaged in the India trade had saved £80 per annum in ink by omitting to dot the “i’s” and cross the “t’s,” when he was emptying his pen by splashing the office wall with ink. Alexander Majors is still living, venerable with years and honors, a mountain son of Kentucky frontier ancestry, the colleague and friend of Daniel Boone; and William Waddell, an ancestral Virginian of the blue-grass region of Kentucky, bold enough for any enterprise, and able to fill any missing niche in Western wants.
The Pony Express was born from this conference, and the first move was to compass the necessary auxiliaries to assure success. Sixty young, agile, athletic riders were engaged and 420 strong and wiry ponies procured, and on the 9th of April, 1860, the venture was simultaneously commenced from St. Joseph and Sacramento City. The result was a success in cutting down the time more than one half, and it rarely missed making the schedule time in ten days, and in December, 1860, making it in seven days and seventeen hours. The stations were from twelve to fifteen miles apart, and one pony was ridden from one station to another, and one rider made three stations, and a few dare-devil fellows made double duty and rode eighty or eighty-five miles. One of them was Charles Cliff, now a citizen of St. Joseph, who rode from St. Joseph to Seneca and back on alternate days. He was attacked by Indians at Scotts Bluff, and received three balls in his body and twenty-seven in his clothes. Cliff made Seneca and back in eight hours each way.
Another of these daring riders of this flying express was Pony Bob.
But the one of these pony riders who has won greatest fame was William F. Cody (“Buffalo Bill”), who passed through many a gauntlet of death while in his flight from station to station bearing express matter that was of the greatest value.
The express was closed on the completion of a telegraph line by Ed Creighton of Omaha from that point to Sacramento City. The mail-bags were two pouches of leather, impervious to rain and weather, sealed, and strapped to the rider’s saddle before and behind, carrying two ounce letters or dispatches at $5 each.
The keepers of the stations had the ponies already saddled, and the riders merely jumped from the back of one to another; and where the riders were changed the pouches were unbuckled and handed to the already mounted postman, who started at a lope as soon as his hand clutched them. As these express stations were the same as the stage stations, the employes of the stage company were required to take care of the ponies and have them in readiness at the proper moment. The bridles and saddles were light weight, as were the riders, and the pouches were not to contain over twenty pounds of weight. There were two pouches of two pockets each, and secured by oil-silk, then sealed, and the pockets locked and never opened between St. Joseph and Sacramento.
This channel of communication was largely used by the Government and by traders and merchants, and was a paying venture, first semi-weekly and then daily, and but for the building of the telegraph would have become a wonderful success.
Every two or three hundred miles there were located at the stations division agents to provide for emergencies in case of Indian raids or stampedes of ponies, and at the crossing of the Platte at Fort Kearney there was then employed the notorious Jack Slade, a Vermont Yankee, lost to the teachings of his early and pious environments, turned into a frontier fiend. He shot a Frenchman named Jules Bevi, whose patronymic is preserved in the present station of Julesburg on the Union Pacific Railroad. Slade nailed one of his ears to the station door and wore the other several weeks as a watch-charm. He drifted to Montana, and in 1865 was hanged by the vigilantes on suspicion of heading the road agents who killed Parker of Atchison and robbed a train of $65,000. His tragic end, as related by Doctor McCurdy, formerly of St. Joseph, contains an element of the pathetic. He lived on a ranch near Virginia City, Mont., and every few days came into town and filled up on “benzine,” and took the place by shooting along the streets and riding into saloons and proclaiming himself to be the veritable “bad man from Bitter Creek.” The belief that he was connected with matters worse than bad whisky had overstrained the long-suffering citizens. The suggestive and mysterious triangular pieces of paper dropped upon the streets, surmounted with the skull and arrows, called the vigilantes to a meeting at which the death of Slade and two companions was determined. On the fated morning following the meeting he came to town duly sober and went to a drug-store for a prescription, and while awaiting its preparation he was suddenly covered with twelve shotguns and ordered to throw up his hands. He complied smilingly, but proposed to reason with them as to the absurdity of taking him for a bad man. The only concession was permission to send a note to his wife at the ranch, and an hour was allotted him to make peace with the Unknown; ropes were placed around the necks of the three, and at the end of the time they were given short shrift, and were soon hanging between heaven and earth. While the bodies were swaying the wife appeared on the scene, mounted, with a pistol in each hand, determined to make a rescue; but seeing that it was too late she quailed before the determined visages of the vigilantes, and soon left the vicinity, carrying away, as it was believed, a large amount of the proceeds of Slade’s robberies.
Most of the famous actors in that memorable enterprise known as the Pony Express have passed beyond the confines of time and gone to join the great majority. In the summer of 1861 the Pony Express passed, with the overland stage line, into the ownership of Ben Holliday, one of those wonderful characters developed from adventure and danger, and nurtured amid the startling incidents of frontier life. Born near the old Blue Lick battle-field, he was at seventeen Colonel Doniphan’s courier to demand from Joe Smith and Brigham Young the surrender of Farwest. At twenty-eight he entered Salt Lake Valley with fifty wagon-loads of merchandise and was indorsed by Brigham as being worthy of the confidence of the faithful. This secured him a fortune. At thirty-eight, at the head of the overland mail route, and at forty-five, the owner of sixteen steamers on the Pacific, carrying trade and passengers to Panama, Oregon, China, and Japan. The stage route was sold to Butterfield, and ran until the completion of the Union Pacific Railroad.
On the streets of Denver daily can be seen the grand figure of Alexander Majors, carrying his four-score years with a vigor that would shame half of the youth of the city. Six feet, lithe and straight as the red man he so often dominated, he is noted as the last of the Mohicans, and only waits, without fear and without reproach, for the final summons to that better land where the expresses are all faithfully gathered and the faithful rewarded by commendations for duty well performed.
And more wonderful than the express itself is the history of the six lustrums since it ceased to exist. Two thousand miles of desert waste have been largely developed in a rich and valuable agricultural and pastoral region. The iron horse has supplanted the fiery bronco, and thought flashes with lightning rapidity from ocean to ocean. Civilization has crowned that terra incognita with seven States and built large and beautiful cities. Peace has spread her halo of beauty over the savage haunts and churches have supplanted the horrible orgies of Indian massacre. The mountains have yielded their treasures to the steady hand of industry—richer by far than the fabled Ophir—and the pactolian streams have gladdened the hearts of toiling thousands. All honor to the pioneers who blazed the way for this civilization.
With this page of frontier history—the days of the Pony Express—will forever be associated the name of Billy Cody.
CHAPTER XIII.
A RIDE FOR LIFE.
“There’s Injun signs about, Billy, so keep your eyes open.”
So said the station boss of the Pony Express trail, addressing Buffalo Bill, who had dashed up to the cabin, his horse panting like a hound, and the rider ready for the fifteen-mile flight to the next relay. “I’ll be on the watch, Boss, you bet,” said Billy Cody, the pony rider, and with a yell to his fresh pony he was off like an arrow from a bow.
Down the trail ran the fleet pony like the wind, leaving the station quickly out of sight, and dashing at once into the solitude and dangers of the vast wilderness.
Mountains were upon either side, towering cliffs here and there overhung the trail, and the wind sighed through the forest of pines like the mourning of departed spirits.
Gazing ahead, the piercing eyes of the young pony rider saw every tree, bush, and rock, for he knew but too well that a deadly foe, lurking in ambush, might send an arrow or a bullet to his heart at any moment.
Gradually, far ahead down the valley, his quick glance fell upon a dark object above the bowlder directly in his trail.
He saw the object move and disappear from sight down behind the rock.
Without appearing to notice it or checking his speed in the slightest he held steadily upon his way.
But he took in the situation at a glance, and saw that upon each side of the bowlder the valley inclined.
Upon one side was a fringe of heavy timber, upon the other a precipice, at the base of which were massive rocks.
“There is an Indian behind that rock, for I saw his head,” muttered the young rider as his horse flew on.
Did he intend to take his chances and dash along the trail directly by his ambushed foe?
It would seem so, for he still stuck to the trail.
A moment more and he would be within range of a bullet, when, suddenly dashing his spurs into the flanks of his pony, Billy Cody wheeled to the right, and in an oblique course headed for the cliff.
This proved to the foe in ambush that his presence there was suspected, if not known, and at once there came the crack of a rifle, the puff of smoke rising above the rock where he was concealed.
At the same time a yell went up from a score of throats, and out of the timber on the other side of the valley darted a number of mounted Indians, and these rode to head off the rider.
Did he turn back and seek safety in a retreat to the station?
No; he was made of sterner stuff, and would run the gauntlet.
Out from behind the bowlder, where they had been lying in ambush, sprang two painted braves, in all the glory of their war-paint.
Their horses were in the timber with their comrades, but they were armed with rifles, and having failed to get a close shot at the pony rider they sought to bring him down at long range.
The bullets pattered under the hoofs of the flying pony, but he was unhurt, and his rider pressed him to his full speed.
With set teeth, flashing eyes, and determined to do or die, Will Cody rode on in the race for life, the Indians on foot running swiftly toward him and the mounted braves sweeping down the valley at full speed.
The shots of the two dismounted Indians failing to bring down the flying pony, or their human game, the mounted redskins saw that their only chance was to overtake their prey by their speed.
One of the number, whose war-bonnet showed that he was a chief, rode a horse that was much faster than the others, and he drew quickly ahead.
Below, the valley narrowed to a pass not a hundred yards in width, and if the pony rider could get to this well ahead of his pursuers he would be able to hold his own along the trail in the 10-mile run to the next relay station.
But though he saw that there was no more to fear from the two dismounted redskins, and that he would come out well in advance of the band on horseback, there was one who was most dangerous.
That one was the chief, whose fleet horse was bringing him on at a terrible pace, and threatening to reach there almost at the same time with the pony rider.
Nearer and nearer the two drew toward the path, the horse of Will Cody slightly ahead, and the young rider knew that a death struggle was at hand.
He did not check his horse, but kept his eyes alternately upon the pass and the chief.
The other Indians he did not then take into consideration.
At length that happened which he had been looking for.
When the chief saw that he would come out of the race some thirty yards behind his foe, he seized his bow and quick as a flash had fitted an arrow for its deadly flight.
But in that instant Will Cody had also acted, and a revolver had sprung from his belt and a report followed the touching of the trigger.
A wild yell burst from the lips of the chief and he clutched madly at the air, reeled, and fell from his saddle, rolling over like a ball as he struck the ground.
The death cry of the chief was echoed by the braves coming on down the valley, and a shower of arrows was sent after the fugitive pony rider.
An arrow slightly wounded his horse, but the others did no damage, and in another second Will Cody had dashed into the pass well ahead of his foes.
It was a hot chase from then on until the pony rider came within sight of the next station, when the Indians drew off, and William Cody dashed in on time, and in another minute was away on his next run.
CHAPTER XIV.
HELD UP BY ROAD AGENTS.
While riding Pony Express another adventure happened to Buffalo Bill which illustrates his nerve under most trying circumstances and great cleverness in getting out of scrapes.
It was when Buffalo Bill was in the Pony Express service between Red Buttes and Three Crossings, which included the perilous crossing of the Platte River, half a mile in width.
He rode into the station at the end of his run to find that the man who was to go on from there had been killed by road agents the night before.
There was nothing else for him to do but take the ride himself, so Bill started promptly to do so. He darted away upon his double duty and yet as he rode away he considered that as his fellow-rider had been killed by road agents, he stood a very fair chance of sharing the same fate.
It had become known in some mysterious manner, past finding out, that there was to be a large sum of money sent through by Pony Express and this was what the road agents were after.
Missing it after killing the other rider, Will Cody very naturally supposed that they would make another effort to secure the treasure.
So when he reached the next relay station he walked about a while longer than was his wont.
This was to perfect a little plan he had decided upon, which was to take a second pair of saddle-pouches and put something in them and leave them in sight, while those that held the valuable express packages he folded up in his saddle-blanket in such a way that they would not be seen unless a search was made for them.
The truth was Buffalo Bill knew he carried the valuable package and it was his duty to protect it with his life.
So with this clever scheme to outwit the road agents, if held up, he started once more upon his flying ride.
He carried his revolver ready for instant use and flew along the trail with every nerve strung to meet any danger he might have to confront.
He had an idea where he would be halted, if halted at all, and it was a lonesome spot in a valley, the very place for a deed of crime to be committed.
As he drew near the spot Buffalo Bill was on the alert, and yet when two men suddenly stepped out from among the shrubs and confronted him it gave him a start in spite of his nerve.
They had him covered with their rifles, and they brought him to a halt with the words, “Hold! Hands up, Pony Express Bill, for we knows yer, and what yer carries.”
“I carry the express; and it’s hanging for two if you interfere with me,” was the plucky response.
“Ah, we don’t want you, Billy, unless you force us to call in your checks; but it’s what you carry, we want.”
“It won’t do you any good to get the pouch for there isn’t anything valuable in it.”
“We are to be the judges of that, so throw us the valuables or catch a bullet. Which will it be, Billy?”
The two men stood directly in front of the pony rider, each one covering him with a rifle, and to resist was certain death.
So Buffalo Bill began to unfasten the pouches slowly, while he said, “Mark my words, men, you’ll hang for this.”
“We’ll take chances on that, Bill.”
The pouches being unfastened now, Buffalo Bill raised them in one hand, while he said in an angry tone:
“If you will have them, take them.”
With this he hurled the pouches at the head of one of the men, who quickly dodged and turned to pick them up, just as Buffalo Bill fired upon the other man with his revolver in his left hand.
The bullet shattered the man’s arm while, driving the spurs into the flanks of his mare, Buffalo Bill rode directly over the man who was stooping to pick up the pouches, his back to the pony rider.
The horse struck him a hard blow that knocked him down, while he half fell on top of him, but was recovered by a touch of the spurs and bounded on, while the daring pony rider gave a wild triumphant yell as he sped on like the wind.
The fallen man, though hurt, scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, picked up his rifle, and fired after the retreating youth, but without effect; and Will Cody rode on, arriving at the station on time, and reporting what had happened.
He had however no time to rest, for he was compelled to start back with his express pouches. He thus made the remarkable ride of 324 miles without sleep, and stopping only to eat his meals, and resting but a few minutes then. For saving the express pouches he was highly complimented by all, and years afterward had the satisfaction of seeing his prophecy regarding the two road agents verified, for they were both captured and hanged by vigilantes for their many crimes.
AN AMERICAN.
CHAPTER XV.
A YEAR OF ADVENTURES.
Receiving an invitation from an old friend named Dave Harrington to accompany him on a trapping expedition up the Republican River, Buffalo Bill gladly accepted it, and prepared for the perilous trip.
The two started out from Salt Creek Valley with an outfit consisting of a wagon filled with traps and provisions, drawn by a yoke of oxen.
It was near the middle of November when the two started on the expedition, Mrs. Cody standing in the door when the team moved off, wiping the tears from her eyes and giving bounteous blessings to her beloved boy, watching with painful emotions until the white cover of the wagon which sheltered her dearest treasure became hidden by the prairie undulations in the distance.
The two made excellent progress, and met with no detention, arriving at the mouth of Prairie Dog Creek early in December. Here they found an abundance of beaver, and trapped with such success that they secured 300 beaver and 100 otter skins before the severe weather interfered with their occupation.
Having obtained a full load of pelts it was decided to remain in the dug-out which they had constructed until the beginning of spring, when the return trip could be made without dangerous exposure.
During the period of waiting the two occupied much of their time shooting elk, large numbers of which were roaming constantly within convenient proximity. On one occasion while out hunting and in pursuit of a large herd of elk, while passing around a large rock projecting over a small ravine, Billy made a false step and was precipitated onto the rocks below, the fall breaking his leg between the knee and ankle. This accident, always serious, was doubly so under the circumstances, when no surgical aid could be had, nor any but a miserably insufficient attention could be given to mitigate the injury. To add still further to the misfortunes of the suffering boy, only a few days before this accident one of the oxen had broken a leg and Harrington had been compelled to shoot the animal. Here the two trappers were, in the midst of winter storms, without a team, and Billy rolling in an agony which his partner was unable to relieve.
After discussing the situation for some time, Harrington said:
“Well, Billy, this is a bad box, and the only way to get out is for me to reach the nearest settlement and get a team to haul you home.”
The poor boy, though he well knew that the nearest place from which succor could be obtained was fully 125 miles distant, and appreciated all the terrors of a long and painful waiting alone among the hungry wolves and bands of equally ferocious Indians, told Harrington to do as he thought best about making the trip.
It is no less pathetic than astonishing the devotion which is so often found among the Western pioneers, whose uncouth language and grizzly garb, if taken as an index to their true character, would lead to the inference that they are destitute of that human kindness which redeems mankind and compensates our vices.
Brave Dave Harrington, just like Cody himself, big-hearted, noble, generous, self-sacrificing, immediately prepared for the tedious winter journey. Collecting about and within convenient reach of Billy plenty of dried beef, water, and other provisions needful for the sufferer’s subsistence, Dave set out on the long trip, bidding his companion to be cheerful and expect his return in twenty-one days.
Finding himself utterly alone, poor Billy—I say “poor” because the facts can not fail to arouse the deepest pity and make us sympathize with him even now in remembrance, because sensibly affected by the realization of his terrible situation, Billy lay on his rude bed, nursing the inflamed and painful fracture, nothing to relieve his lonesomeness save the howl of prowling wolves peering through the mud and sticks and under the door. Ten days passed, when one evening Billy was aroused by a singular noise outside the door. He heard voices, and his experienced ear told him they were Indians. Suddenly a dozen Sioux, led by Chief Rain-In-The-Face, broke into the dug-out. Billy rose up from his pallet and faced them as well as he could, expecting instant death; but fortune favored him, as the chief recognized Billy, having met him often at Laramie. The chief at once told Billy that his life was safe; but the Indians remained all night, feasting on the provisions found there, and when they left in the morning carried away his weapons.
To add to his suffering a terrible snow-storm began, and Billy knew that it would retard the coming of Harrington. Starvation now threatened, and his leg became more painful each day. At last the twenty-first day dawned; the fuel had burned out; the suffering boy was forced to gnaw chunks of frozen venison.
On the twenty-ninth day Dave Harrington arrived at the hut with two oxen which he had driven through the snow. The meeting between the two can not be described, and Billy heard how Harrington had braved every danger and hardship to come back to his rescue. A bed was made of furs and blankets in the wagon and making Billy as comfortable as possible Harrington set out for Junction City. The sun now came out and melted the snow and they experienced no further difficulty.
Arriving at Junction City they sold their furs at a good price, and also the team, and went to Leavenworth with a government mule train. Harrington would not desert Billy, and accompanied him home, where every kindness was shown to the brave man who had saved Billy’s life. Soon after their arrival at the Cody home Harrington was taken ill, and after an illness of one week died. Even to this day to speak of Dave Harrington to Buffalo Bill, he will have something kind to say in memory of his dearest friend.
It was months before Buffalo Bill recovered the use of his leg so that he could go again to work; then he applied for work on the Pony Express, and was engaged on a long and dangerous run.
The condition of the country along the North Platte had become so dangerous that it was almost impossible for the Overland Stage Company to find drivers, although the highest wages were offered. Billy at once decided to turn stage-driver, and his services were gladly accepted.
While driving a stage between Split Rock and Three Crossings he was set upon by a band of several hundred Sioux. Lieutenant Flowers, assistant division agent, sat on the box beside Billy, and there were half a dozen well-armed passengers inside. Billy gave the horses the reins, Lieutenant Flowers applied the whip, and the passengers defended the stage in a running fight. Arrows fell around and struck the stage like hail, wounding the horses and dealing destruction generally, for two of the passengers were killed and Lieutenant Flowers badly wounded. Billy seized the whip from the wounded officer, applied it savagely, shouted defiance, and drove on to Three Crossings, thus saving the stage.
THE ATTACK ON THE OVERLAND COACH.
This last trip proved so disastrous that it was decided to use a band of mounted men to patrol the trail. This force was placed under the command of Wild Bill, and Billy Cody accompanied the expedition they made into the Indian country. It proved to be a complete success and the hostiles were severely punished, many being killed and hundreds of horses captured.
While connected with the stage line Billy started out alone on a bear-hunt. He had camped for the night and was picking a sage-hen which he had shot when he heard the whinny of a horse up the mountain. He at once proceeded to investigate and came upon a dug-out with several horses staked out near. Hearing voices within and concluding they were trappers or hunters, he at once rapped on the door. The door was opened and by the firelight he saw eight men, who he at once knew were outlaws. Two of these men Billy recognized as having been discharged by the Overland Stage Company. Billy told them how he came to find their cabin, and he was asked where his horse was.
“I left him tied at my camp down the mountain. I’ll leave my gun here and go and bring him up,” replied Billy anxious to get out of the hornet’s-nest in which he found himself.
Two of the villains at once offered their services to accompany him, to his great regret, but he could do nothing else than go with them, fully realizing the danger of his situation. He knew if he returned to the cabin he would be killed, and so he decided to act to save himself. Quick as lightning he struck one of the outlaws a stunning blow over the head with his pistol and as the other turned shot him dead; then running to his horse he leaped into the saddle and fled down the mountains. The trail was so rugged however that his progress was slow and the shot having been heard in the cabin the outlaws were soon in full pursuit, but fortunately Billy managed to make his escape, eluding his pursuers in the darkness, but having to desert his horse to do so.
It was twelve hours before he reached Horseshoe, exhausted and half-famished. Reporting his adventure to Alf Slade, a party of ten started at once under Billy’s guidance to the outlaws’ cabin. They reached there after a ride of six hours and found a new-made grave, but the place was abandoned and there was nothing left to indicate their intention to return. Billy was complimented in the most deserving way for his bravery, and was put on the road again as express rider, Wild Bill being his alternate; and the two made better time than any other riders on the road.
CHAPTER XVI.
A SOLDIER OF THE CIVIL WAR.
Cody learning of the serious illness of his loved mother instantly saddled his horse and made all possible speed homeward. He arrived at home to find his mother dying, and he remained by her side, a devoted nurse, until she died.
Under the prairie sod, beneath the branches of a tree planted by the hands of the loving son, sleeps the pioneer’s wife and a true hero’s mother. Weeks after this most melancholy incident in Billy’s life he went to Leavenworth and joined the Seventh Kansas Jayhawkers, who were ordered to service in Tennessee and Mississippi. After several battles in Mississippi and Tennessee and hard service there the regiment was ordered to Missouri. The courage, cunning, and woodcraft displayed by Billy had not escaped the eye of his commander, and he was made a scout with the rank of sergeant. Serving in the capacity of scout, soldier, and spy he rendered most valuable service to the North and was considered the pride of General Smith’s corps.
As a soldier-scout Buffalo Bill won a great name and passed through numberless adventures. While with the army in Missouri Buffalo Bill again met his old “pard” of the plains, Wild Bill, who had also won fame as a scout and spy.
Until 1865, Buffalo Bill remained in the army, and was then detailed for special service at headquarters in St. Louis. It was while there that he met Miss Louisa Frederici, a young lady with whom he at once fell in love.
BRINGING BUFFALO-MEAT INTO CAMP.
Buffalo Bill’s phenomenal luck did not desert him as a lover, for the lady is to-day his wife. Having fixed the date for his marriage Buffalo Bill returned to the far frontier and accepted the position of stage-driver over the same route where he had killed his first Indian. He worked as a stage-driver until he saved up a sufficient sum of money to return to St. Louis and claim his bride.
He was married in 1866, the 6th of March, and the happy couple took passage on a Missouri River steamer for Kansas, where their home was to be. Arriving in Kansas Cody went to Salt Creek Valley, where he established a hotel known as the Golden Rule House, which he conducted with profit until the old desire for life of stirring adventures induced him to sell out and seek employment as a scout.
Going to Junction City he met Wild Bill, who was then scouting for the Government, and by his advice he proceeded to the military post at Ellsworth and at once went on duty. While scouting and guiding parties he first met General Custer who with ten men was at Ellsworth, looking for a guide to conduct him to Fort Larned. Cody was selected for the duty and to the day of his death Custer was a sincere friend of Buffalo Bill’s.
Upon his return Cody was ordered to report to the Tenth Cavalry as scout to guide an expedition against a large band of Indians who had attacked the force working on the Kansas Pacific Railroad.
The Indians were followed rapidly and overtaken, and turning upon the regiment of colored troops they for awhile stampeded them, capturing the howitzer. Major Ames, however, rallied his men, and though badly wounded recaptured the gun; but Cody discovering that another large force of Indians was near at hand a retreat was begun, in which the colored troops made remarkably good time. Night approaching, the remnant of the command succeeded in reaching Hays, and Cody declared that he would “never go Indian hunting again with colored warriors,” but has since paid generous tribute to their more experienced records.
While at Ellsworth Buffalo Bill met William Rose, a man of many schemes and a railroad contractor. He disclosed to Buffalo Bill a scheme to build a city and become a millionaire out of its rise in value. Cody entered into the undertaking with zest, selected a site on Big Creek one mile from Fort Hays, and the town was duly laid out and the first house built. The town was then christened Rome, and a lot was donated to every one who would erect a building thereon. In one month’s time there were 200 residences, 41 stores, and 20 saloons in Rome, and lots were selling at $50 each. Rome had begun to howl. But just as the dream of wealth was about to be realized a stranger arrived in town. He was the agent for the Kansas Pacific road, and not being able to make terms with the two owners of the town, Cody and Rose, he went west of Rome and laid out a town which he named Hays City. As he placed there a machine-shop, round-house, and depot, Rome was left out in the cold, and Cody saw his anticipated fortune fade from his grasp.
CHAPTER XVII.
A CHAMPION BUFFALO-HUNTER.
Having given up the real estate business Buffalo Bill received a proposition from the Goddard Brothers, who had contracted to furnish subsistence for thousands of construction employes of the Kansas Pacific Railroad. The amount required was very large to procure which involved hard riding; but the labor was small compared with the danger to be incurred from the Indians, who were killing every white man they could find in that section. Nevertheless, an offer of $500 per month for the service made Billy unmindful of the exertion or peril, and he went to work under contract to supply all the meat required. During this engagement he had no end of wonderful escapes from bands of Indians, not a few of whom he sacrificed to secure his own safety. By actual count he also killed under his contract with the Goddard Brothers, four thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes. To appreciate the extent of this slaughter, by approximate measurement these buffaloes, if laid on the ground end to end, would make a line more than five miles long; and if placed on top of each other they would make a pile two miles high.
SCOUTING FOR BUFFALOES.
By special arrangements all the heads of the largest buffaloes killed by Bill were preserved and delivered to the Kansas Pacific Railroad Company, by which they were turned into excellent advertisements for the road. Many of these heads may still be seen in prominent places, marking the center of an oval board containing the advertisement of the road.
So well had Cody performed his part of the contract that the men connected with the Kansas Pacific road gave him the appellation by which he is still known throughout the world, “Buffalo Bill.”
A record of all his battles with the Indians during this period of professional hunting would be so long that few could read it without tiring, for there is a sameness connected with attacks and escapes which it is difficult to recite in language always sparkling with interest. But Buffalo Bill, being a brave man under all circumstances when bravery is essential and cautious when that element subserved the purpose better, was almost daily in a position of danger, and many times escaped almost like the Hebrew children from the furnace.
So justly celebrated had Buffalo Bill now become that Kit Carson, on his return from Washington City in the fall of 1867, stopped at Hays City to make his acquaintance. Carson was so well pleased with Bill’s appearance and excellent social qualifications that he remained for several days the guest of the celebrated buffalo killer and scout. Upon parting, the renowned Kit expressed the warmest admiration for his host, and conveyed his consideration by inviting Bill to visit him at Fort Lyon, Colo., where he intended making his home. But the death of Carson the following May prevented the visit.
Like every other man who achieves distinction by superior excellence in some particular calling, Buffalo Bill (who had now shed the familiar title of Billy) had his would-be rivals as buffalo-killers. Among this number was a well-known scout named Billy Comstock, who sought to dispute the claim of champion. Comstock was quite famous among the Western army being one of the oldest scouts and most skillful hunters. He was murdered by Indians seven years after the event about to be recorded, while scouting for Custer.
Buffalo Bill was somewhat startled one day upon receipt of a letter from a well known army officer, offering to wager the sum of $500 that Comstock could kill a greater number of buffaloes in a certain given time, under stipulated conditions, than any other man living. This was, of course, a challenge to Buffalo Bill, who upon mentioning the facts, found hundreds of friends anxious to accept the wager, or who would put up any amount that Bill’s claim to the championship could not be successfully disputed by any person living.
The bet was promptly accepted, and the following conditions agreed to: A large herd of buffaloes being found, the two men were to enter the drove at 8 o’clock A.M., and employ their own tactics for killing until 4 o’clock P.M., at the end of which time the one having killed the largest number was to be declared winner of the wager and also the “champion buffalo-killer of America.” To determine the result of the hunt, a referee was to accompany each of the hunters on horseback and keep the score.
The place selected for the trial was twenty miles east of Sheridan, Kan., where the buffaloes were plentiful, and the country being a level prairie rendered the hunt easy and afforded an excellent view for those who wished to witness the exciting contest.
Comstock was well mounted on a strong, spirited horse, and carried a 42-caliber Henry rifle. Buffalo Bill appeared on his famous horse Old Brigham; and in this he certainly had great advantage, for this sagacious animal knew all about his rider’s style of hunting buffaloes, and therefore needed no reining.
The party rode out on the prairie at an early hour in the morning, and soon discovered a herd of about one hundred buffaloes grazing on a beautiful stretch of ground just suited for the work in hand. The two hunters rode rapidly forward, accompanied by their referees, while the spectators followed 100 yards in the rear. At a given signal the two contestants dashed into the center of the herd, dividing it so that Bill took the right half while Comstock took those on the left.
Now the sport began in magnificent style, amid the cheers of excited spectators, who rode as near the contestants as safety and non interference permitted. Buffalo Bill, after killing the first half dozen stragglers in the herd, began an exhibition of his wonderful skill and strategy; by riding at the head of the herd and pressing the leaders hard toward the left, he soon got the drove to circling, killing those that were disposed to break off on a direct line. In a short time witnesses of this novel contest saw Buffalo Bill driving his portion of the herd in a beautiful circle, and in less than half an hour he had all those in his bunch numbering thirty-eight, lying around within a very small compass.
Comstock, in the meantime, had done some fine work, but by attacking the rear of his herd he had to ride directly away from the crowd of anxious spectators. He succeeded in killing twenty-three, which, however, lay irregularly over a space three miles in extent, and therefore while he killed fewer than his rival, he at the same time manifested less skill, which by contrast showed most advantageously for Buffalo Bill.
All the party having returned to the apex of a beautiful knoll, a large number of champagne bottles were produced, and amid volleys of flying corks toasts were drunk to the buffalo heroes, Buffalo Bill being especially lauded, and now a decided favorite.
But these ceremonies were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of another small herd of buffalo cows and calves, into which the two contestants charged precipitately. In this “round” Bill scored eighteen, while Comstock succeeded in killing only fourteen.
The superiority of Buffalo Bill was now so plainly shown that his backers, as well as himself, saw that he could afford to give an exhibition of his wonderful horsemanship, while continuing the contest, without fear of losing the stakes. Accordingly, after again regaling themselves with champagne and other appetizing accessories, the cavalcade of interested spectators rode northward for a distance of three miles, where they discovered a large herd of buffaloes quietly browsing. The party then halted, and Buffalo Bill, removing both saddle and bridle from Old Brigham, rode off on his well-trained horse, directing him solely by motions of his hand. Reaching the herd by circling and coming down upon it from the windward quarter, the two rival hunters rushed upon the surprised buffaloes and renewed the slaughter. After killing thirteen of the animals, Buffalo Bill drove one of the largest buffaloes in the herd toward the party, seeing which many among the interested spectators became very much frightened, showing as much trepidation, perhaps, as they would have manifested had the buffalo been an enraged lion. But when the ponderous, shaggy-headed beast came within a few yards of the party Bill shot it dead, thus giving a grand coup d’état to the day’s sport, which closed with this magnificent exhibition of skill and daring.
The day having now been far spent, and time called, it was found that the score stood thus: Buffalo Bill, sixty-nine; Comstock, forty-six. The former was therefore declared winner, and entitled to the championship as the most skillful buffalo-slayer in America, and crowned forever with the title of “Buffalo Bill.”
In referring to the fact that he has the record of having killed far more game than other great hunters, Buffalo Bill, who always speaks most modestly of all his exploits, gives as a reason for his scoring greater numbers of buffalo, bear, deer, elk, antelope, etc., that the huntsmen of years ago were armed with muzzle-loading weapons, while it fell to his lot to get the advantage of late inventions and be armed with the very best of repeating rifles.
The fact that Buffalo Bill makes this statement in favor of others shows how willing he is to give credit where credit is due.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SCOUT, GUIDE, AND INDIAN FIGHTER.
After the great buffalo-killing match the name of Buffalo Bill became familiar all over the country, and his exploits were topics people never grew tired of discussing. All his great battles with the Indians, valuable services as a scout, and hairbreadth escapes were told and retold, not only at the fireside, but around the camp-fires.
In the spring of 1868 a violent Indian war broke out in Kansas, and General Sheridan, in order to be on the field, made his headquarters at Hays City. Sending for Buffalo Bill General Sheridan appointed him chief of scouts. From that time on Buffalo Bill acted as scout and guide in all the principal military operations upon that part of the frontier.
He was also appointed chief of scouts for the Fifth Cavalry to proceed against the Dog Soldier Indians. The campaigns of the Fifth Cavalry are matters of history, as are also the services of Buffalo Bill, the letters of the commanding officers speaking for themselves.
During his services as scout he served directly under General Forsyth, Colonel Royall, Gen. E. A. Carr, General Hazen, General Penrose, and others.
These officers, who had won fame upon the battle-fields of the Civil War, many of them wearing the stars of a general, found themselves ordered to the far frontier—when the South had given up the struggle—to oppose the Indians, who were making desperate efforts to kill off their pale-face foes.
BUFFALO BILL AS A SCOUT.
The truth was that the Indians regarded the Civil War with feelings of delight, and as a blessing to them, as they supposed that one side would utterly wipe out the other side, and their victors being weakened by the struggle the redskins could consolidate their forces, and attacking the remaining whites drive them off the face of the earth.
They certainly made a bold effort to do so, and in the war that followed the general officers were glad indeed to have the services of Buffalo Bill as scout, guide, and Indian fighter.
In all the operations of the army upon the frontier Buffalo Bill’s identity with them was such that to recount his valuable services would be only to go over the pages of history. The stories of his adventures, scouting expeditions, hunting down desperadoes as a Government officer, and guiding of the armies through trackless wildernesses have been told and retold until every school-boy is familiar with them, and the name of no one man is better known than that of Buffalo Bill.
Early in September of 1871 a grand hunt was projected by General Sheridan for the purpose of giving a number of prominent gentlemen a buffalo-hunt. James Gordon Bennett of the New York Herald, Gen. Anson Stager of the Western Union Telegraph, Lawrence R. and Leonard W. Jerome, and Generals Davis, Fitzhughes, and Rucker, with Sergeant-General Arsch, Carrol Livingston, and others, formed the party. Immediately upon their arrival at Fort McPherson General Sheridan sent for Buffalo Bill, introducing him with flattering remarks to each one of the hunting-party and telling him that he was to be their special guide and scout. The party hunted over a large extent of territory, killing many buffaloes, turkeys, jack-rabbits, and antelopes, and greatly enjoyed their visit to the plains.
In 1872 Buffalo Bill was visited by General Forsyth, who arranged with him a grand buffalo-hunt for the Duke Alexis, who was then visiting this country. Buffalo Bill at once conceived the idea of engaging a large number of Indians to join in the hunt, to make the affair a more pleasurable one for the grand duke. On the day of the hunt Buffalo Bill loaned the grand duke his splendid buffalo horse Buckskin Joe, and riding by his side instructed him in the manner of shooting buffaloes.
That night in camp numbers of glasses of champagne were disposed of in drinking to the great success of the Grand Duke Alexis as a buffalo-hunter. It was soon after the Alexis hunt that Buffalo Bill received an invitation from James Gordon Bennett, August Belmont, and others of equal prominence to visit the East. At the earnest solicitation of General Sheridan Bill accepted the invitation, and thus it was that he entered upon the life so different from that in which he had passed his earlier years.
Attending the theater one night to see a frontier play bearing his own name—J. B. Studley taking the character of Buffalo Bill—he conceived the idea of going upon the stage and playing himself, and thus it was that he became an actor, winning fame and fortune through his enterprises. Having introduced upon the stage Indians as actors, Buffalo Bill decided upon reproducing in miniature scenes in wild life upon the frontier, and from this sprung the Wild West, the greatest exhibition ever known.
GENERAL MILES AND BUFFALO BILL VIEWING THE HOSTILES’ VILLAGE IN THE LAST INDIAN WAR.
During his life as an actor and his career as the head of the Wild West exhibition Buffalo Bill obeyed every call to the frontier whenever there was any trouble among the Indians, and at once resumed his duties as scout, guide, and Indian fighter, winning added laurels thereby and conclusively proving that through his life in cities his heart, brain, and hand had not lost their cunning or courage and the nobility of his nature had not suffered through contact with the world, nor had he been spoiled by applause and praise.
After the massacre of Custer’s band there was great activity in military movements in the Northwest, and as chief of scouts under Merritt, Crook, and other generals Buffalo Bill’s career was a most brilliant one. During the last Indian campaign Buffalo Bill’s valuable services were publicly recognized by Gen. Nelson A. Miles, one of our greatest Indian fighters, and who so quickly crushed the Indians in their late rising, when Sitting Bull lost his life.
Buffalo Bill is one of the few famous scouts who has justly won the renown which encircles his name. His exploits have been so numerous, involving a display of such extraordinary daring and magnificent nerve, that language can not exaggerate them. General Sheridan often asserted that Buffalo Bill had “slain as many Indians as any white man that ever lived.” It would be no credit to this daring scout if these Indians had fallen without justification; but since they were the victims of legitimate warfare and were slain in the performance of a sworn duty, Buffalo Bill may properly wear the laurels and deserve the plaudits of civilization—whose effective instrument he has been—for the friendship he has displayed for the red man in times of peace.
As the noted scout is revealing to the eyes of the whole world the scenes in which he has been a participant, there are few indeed who do not care to see the Wild West in miniature as he portrays it with the aid of his Indians and cowboys, and give him praise for his phenomenal success. Having produced the Wild West in all the large cities of America, Buffalo Bill decided, so to speak, to “carry the war into Africa,” and the result was that with his partner, Mr. Nate Salisbury, an actor of renown, he invaded first the English capital, then the other capitals of Europe, his enterprise everywhere winning the plaudits of royalty, the press, and the public.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
CHAPTER XIX.
BUFFALO BILL’S “PARDS” OF THE PLAINS.
To gain great local and national fame as a plains celebrity in the days of old was not an easy task; rather one of the most competitive struggles that a young man could possibly engage in. The vast, comparatively unknown, even called great, American Desert of twenty-five and thirty years ago was peopled only by the descendants of the sturdy pioneers of the then far West—Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, Minnesota, Kansas, etc.—born, raised, and used to hardships and danger; and attracted only the resolute, determined adventurers of the rest of the world, seeking an outlet for pent-up natures imbued with love of daring adventure. Hundreds of men achieved local, and great numbers national, fame for the possession of every manly quality that goes to make up the romantic hero of that once dark and bloody ground. When it is brought to mind the work engaged in—the carving out of the advance paths for the more domestically inclined settler; of the dangers and excitements of hunting and trapping; of carrying dispatches, stage-driving, freighting cargoes of immense value, guiding successfully the immense wagon-trains, gold-hunting—it is easy to conceive what a class of sturdy, adventurous young spirits entered the arena to struggle in a daily deadly, dangerous game to win the “bubble reputation.” When such an army of the best human material battled for supremacy, individual distinction gained by the unwritten law of unprejudiced popular promotion possessed a value that made its acquirer a “plains celebrity,” stamped indelibly with an honored title rarely possessed unless fairly, openly, and justly won—a prize so pure that its ownership, while envied, crowned the victor with the friendship, following, and admiration of the contestants. Thus Boone, Crocket, Carson, Beal, Fremont, Cody, Bridger, Kinman, Hickok, Cosgrove, Comstock, Frank North, and others will live in the romance, the poetry, and history of their distinctive work forever. The same spirit and circumstances have furnished journalists innumerable, who in the West imbibed the sterling qualities they afterward used to such effect—notably, Henry M. Stanley, who (in 1866) saw the rising sun of the young empire that stretches to the Rockies; General Greely, of Arctic fame, and the equally scientific explorer, Lieutenant Schwatka, passed their early career in the same school, and often followed the trail, led by Buffalo Bill; Finerty (formerly of the Chicago Times); “Modoc” Fox and O’Kelly (of the New York Herald), 1876; while of late years the scribblers were initiated to their baptism of fire by Harries (of Washington Star), McDonough (New York World), Bailey (of Inter Ocean), brave young Kelly (of the Lincoln Journal), Cressy (of the Omaha Bee), Charlie Seymour (Chicago Herald), Allen (of the New York Herald), Robert J. Boylan (of Inter Ocean), present in the battle, who were honored by three cheers from “Old White Top” Forsyth’s gallant Seventh Cavalry, the day after the battle of “Wounded Knee,” as they went charging over Wolf Creek—to what came near being a crimson day—to the fight “down at the mission.” That there are still “successors to every king” is assured by the manly scouts so prominent in the last Indian war in such men as Frank Gruard, now the most celebrated of the present employed army scouts; of “Little Bat,” true as steel and active as the cougar; Philip Wells, Louis Shangrau, “Big Baptiste,” and John Shangrau; while the friendly Indians furnish such grand material for any future necessity as No Neck, Major Sword, Red Shirt, and Yankton Charley.