The day of fate arrived in 1869, and under the following circumstances: Wild Bill was in Tommy Drum’s saloon, in company with a crowd of drinking characters, indulging, as was his wont, when Strawhan entered by a side door. Bill’s eyes were always on the lookout for danger, and they caught Jack the moment he stepped upon the threshold. Bill made a pretence of not noticing his bitter enemy, but quietly grasped his pistol and kept talking, unconcernedly, as before. Strawhan thought his opportunity had come, and that Bill was off his guard, but the moment Strawhan attempted to level his pistol, Bill wheeled and shot him dead, the ball from his weapon entering Strawhan’s right eye, felling him without a groan. Bill then turned back to the counter of the bar, and asked everybody in the saloon to take a drink, never giving the slightest heed to the body of the man which lay on the floor dead, with his face smothered in a pool of blood. Everyone drank. The coroner was sent for and the crowd gave their testimony. Bill was acquitted the same day, and serenaded by the authorities at night.
Whitney escaped death at Strawhan’s hands, but was killed by a Texan named Ben Thompson, in 1873.
BILL MULVEY’S LAST ROW.
Shortly after the event just related, Bill Mulvey, a notorious rough and desperado from St. Joseph, Mo., struck Hays City, and got on what we term in the West, “a great big tear.” He paraded the streets with a revolver in each hand, howling like an enraged tiger, and thirsting for some one’s blood. He was met by the squire and constable, both of whom endeavored to make him keep the peace, but their efforts were so far futile that he turned upon them and drove both out of the town. Wild Bill, who chanced to be in a saloon in another part of the place, where he was unconscious of the disturbance, was notified, and at once started to arrest Mulvey. Approaching his man quietly, in a most amiable tone he told Mulvey that he should have to arrest him for disturbing the peace. Mulvey had his pistols in his hands at the time, and in an instant they were leveled at Wild Bill’s head, with the injunction, “March before me.” Bill fully appreciated the danger of his position, but his remarkable self-possession and coolness never deserted him. Before turning to march in front of Mulvey, Bill raised his left hand, and with a look of dissatisfaction, said: “Boys, don’t hit him.” This remark had the desired effect, for as Bill had not shown his pistol, Mulvey turned to see who Bill had spoken to, and to protect his rear. In the twinkle of an eye, Bill whipped out his pistol and shot Mulvey dead, the ball entering the victim’s head just behind the ear.
The West was thus relieved of another desperate character, and Wild Bill received a vote of thanks from the citizens for his conduct.
A FIGHT WITH FIFTEEN SOLDIERS.
Bill’s fortunate escape from death in his fight with the McCandlas gang at Rock Creek was no more remarkable than one of his fights at Hays City which occurred in 1870. During this year, the 7th U. S. Cavalry was stationed at that post, and many of the soldiers, partaking of the desperate nature which distinguished the place, gave the authorities great trouble. Bill’s duties as city marshal caused an antagonism which finally culminated in a most desperate fight with fifteen of the soldiers, the particulars of which are as follows: On the day in question, several of the soldiers became very drunk, among them a large sergeant who had a particular aversion to Bill on account of his having arrested, at divers times, several of the members of his company. The sergeant was in Paddy Welch’s saloon with several of his men, indulging in a noisy carousal. Welch sent for Bill to remove the crowd, but when he arrived the sergeant insisted on fighting Bill in the street. He confessed that he was no match for Bill in a duel, but dared him to meet him in fistic encounter. To this proposition Bill consented, and taking out his two revolvers he passed them to Welch, and the two combatants, followed by the crowd inside, stepped out of the saloon and into the street. Although the sergeant was much the larger man, he was no equal for Bill, and in a moment after the fight began the sergeant was knocked down, and Bill was administering to him a most severe thrashing. The soldiers, fourteen in number, seeing their sergeant at great disadvantage, and in danger of never getting back to camp with a sound body, rushed in to his assistance, some with clubs, and others with stones, seemingly determined to kill Bill. Paddy Welch was near at hand, and seeing the desperate position he occupied, ran into the crowd and succeeded in placing the two revolvers in his hands. In another moment he discharged a shot which killed one of the soldiers, and would have done more terrible execution but for the crowd that was on him, which prevented him from using his hands.
When the first soldier fell dead there was a hasty dispersion of the others, but only to get their pistols, which were near at hand, and to renew the attack. For a few minutes there was rapid firing, and three more of the soldiers fell, one of them dead, and the other two mortally wounded. The odds were too great for Bill, and though he was struck with seven bullets, he managed to escape from the crowd and get out of town. Night coming on very soon after the fight was over, enabled Bill to cross Smoky river and secrete himself several miles from the town, where he remained lying in a buffalo wallow for two days, caring for his wounds. He was hit three times in the arms, once in the side and three times in the legs. None of the wounds were serious, but he was compelled to tear up his shirt and drawers for bandages to stop the flow of blood.