A Duel with Four Men.
The origin of the difficulty was in bad whisky and ruffian nature. Bill went into a saloon—which was well filled with cattle drivers, who were half drunk and anxious for a fight—and called for a drink without inviting any one to join him. While raising the glass to his mouth one of the ruffians gave him a push in the back which caused him to drop the glass. Without saying a word, Bill turned and struck the rowdy a desperate blow, felling him outside the door. Four of the rowdy’s friends jumped up from their chairs and drew their pistols. Bill appreciated his situation at once, and with wonderful coolness, said: “Gentlemen, let us have some respect for the proprietor. You are anxious for a fight, and I will accommodate you if you will consent to step outside. I will fight all four of you at fifteen paces with pistols.” There was a general consent, and the crowd filed out of the saloon. The distance was stepped off, and the four men stood five feet apart, facing Bill. The saloon-keeper was to give the word “fire,” and the arrangements were conducted in as fair a manner as four men can fight one. Bill stood as calmly as though he were in church. Not a flush nor tremor. All parties were to allow their pistols to remain in their belts until the word “fire” was given, when each was then to draw and fire at will, and as often as circumstances permitted. The saloon-keeper asked if all were ready, and receiving an affirmative reply, began to count slowly, pausing at least ten seconds between each count: “one, two, three—fire!” Bill had fired almost before the call had died from the saloon-keeper’s lips. He killed the man on the left, but a shot also struck Bill in the right shoulder, and his right arm fell helpless.
In another instant he had transferred his pistol to his left hand, and three more successive shots dropped his antagonists. Three of the men were shot in the head and instantly killed. The other was shot in the right cheek, the ball carrying away a large portion of the cheek bone. He afterwards recovered, and may be living yet. The names of the four were: Jack Harkness, the one who recovered; Jim Slater, Frank Dowder and Seth Beeber.
Bill was lionized by the others in the crowd in a moment after the fight; his wound was carefully bandaged and his wants administered to; but he considered it safer to quit the county at once, and returned to Kansas, going direct to Hays City, where he remained until he recovered the use of his arm, none of the bones having been broken, and in the latter part of the same year he was made city marshal, as he was the only one capable of dealing with the lawless class which had often overrun the town and set law and decency at defiance.
WILD BILL’S OPINION OF YANKEES.
In 1868, Wild Bill was engaged to guide a party of thirty pleasure-seekers, headed by Hon. Henry Wilson, deceased ex-Vice-President, through some of the Western territories. Mrs. Wilson, wife of the Vice-President, was among the party, and being of a most vivacious and entertaining disposition, added greatly to the enjoyment of the trip. Wild Bill’s introduction to her resulted in a pleasing episode at the conclusion of the trip. She requested Bill to carefully scrutinize the party, and then give her his impartial opinion of Yankees. Bill replied that it was not customary for him to form rash conclusions, but if it were her wish he would deliver his opinion upon their return.
The thirty days roaming through the canyons and over the mountains furnished a most enjoyable diversion to the entire party. There was scarcely a day passed but that Bill gave them samples of his unerring aim, killing enough game with his pistol to provision the company. The ladies, who composed nearly one-half the party, never tired of praising him, listening to his stories of border life, and wondering at his marvelous escapes. Bill naturally felt elated, and could not refrain from evincing his very deep interest in the pretty girls from the states. The gentlemen exhibited equal interest in the exploits of Bill, and gave him full credit for his performances. There was one thing about the party which Bill could not comprehend, viz.: the tight-legged pants which they wore—which at that time were the prevailing fashion in the East—and gave to the wearer the appearance of skeleton legs, wrapped with checked bandages, or a grasshopper dressed in an overcoat.
Upon the return of the party, Mrs. Wilson, in bidding Bill good-bye, asked for a fulfillment of his promise. He rather reluctantly responded, “Well, madam, I always like to keep my promise, but in this instance I should like to be excused.” But no excuse would answer; his disinclination only excited a more anxious interest in Mrs. Wilson to obtain his opinion.