Riding thus without saddle and bridle, out of the next herd Buffalo Bill, so cleverly guided by Brigham, easily killed thirteen more buffaloes. The last he drove with a rush straight toward the spectators, and laughed as he downed it almost at their feet. Slipping from his bareback seat, he doffed his hat and bowed.
“You see?” he bade.
Scout Comstock came in with a count of only nine.
“I’m done,” he said frankly. “How many in all, Bill?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“Forty-six here.” And he shrugged his slender shoulders. “Well, Bill, you’re a wonder. There’s not another man on the plains could have done it. Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, “three cheers for Buffalo Bill Cody, the boy ‘extra,’ the kid express rider, the champion buffalo hunter, and the best man that ever rode the plains.”
The excursion train returned that night, and Davy returned with it. But Buffalo Bill stayed out on the plains, scouting for the army against the Indians. Davy kept track of him, for the name of “Buffalo Bill,” dispatch bearer and guide, was constantly in the papers. When in June, 1869, Davy graduated from the Military Academy, and soon was assigned to the Fifth Cavalry in Nebraska, Buffalo Bill had been appointed by General Phil Sheridan as chief of scouts to serve with it.
This spring the Union Pacific Railway had met the Central Pacific Railway in Utah and the tracks joined. The Overland Trail had been spanned at last by iron rails; but there was still much work to be done to make the plains safe for the settler, his home, his church and his school-house; and helping to do it, Dave and Buffalo Bill often rode together, man and man.