[Illustration: BUFFALO BILL--COL. WILLIAM F. CODY]

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BUFFALO BILL(COLONEL W. F. CODY)

ILLUSTRATED BYN. C. WYETH

1920

by Cosmopolitan Book Corporation

Farrar & Rinehart IncorporatedOn Murray Hill, New York

Printed in the U. S. A. ByQuinn & Boden Company, Inc. Rahway, N. J. 

Dedicated to My Nephew and Niece, George Cody Goodman, Anna Bond Goodman, and family. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Buffalo Bill--Col. William F. Cody. _Frontispiece_

He Shoved a Pistol in the Man's Face and Said: "I'm Calling the HandThat's in Your Hat"

Chief Satanta Passed the Peace-Pipe to General Sherman and Said: "MyGreat White Brothers"

Winning My Name--"Buffalo Bill"

It Was No Time for Argument. I Fired and Killed Him

Pursued by Fifteen Bloodthirsty Indians, I Had a Running Fight ofEleven Miles

A Shower of Arrows Rained on Our Dead Mules from the Closing Circle ofRed-Men

Stage-Coach Driving Was Full of Hair-Raising Adventures

CHAPTER I

I am about to take the back-trail through the Old West--the West that Iknew and loved. All my life it has been a pleasure to show itsbeauties, its marvels and its possibilities to those who, under myguidance, saw it for the first time. 

Now, going back over the ground, looking at it through the eyes ofmemory, it will be a still greater pleasure to take with me the manyreaders of this book. And if, in following me through some of theexciting scenes of the old days, meeting some of the brave men who madeits stirring history, and listening to my camp-fire tales of thebuffalo, the Indian, the stage-coach and the pony-express, theirinterest in this vast land of my youth, should be awakened, I shouldfeel richly repaid. 

The Indian, tamed, educated and inspired with a taste for white collarsand moving-pictures, is as numerous as ever, but not so picturesque. Onthe little tracts of his great inheritance allotted him by civilizationhe is working out his own manifest destiny. 

The buffalo has gone. Gone also is the stagecoach whose progress hispilgrimages often used to interrupt. Gone is the pony express, whosemarvelous efficiency could compete with the wind, but not with theharnessed lightning flashed over the telegraph wires. Gone are the verybone-gatherers who laboriously collected the bleaching relics of thegreat herds that once dotted the prairies. 

But the West of the old times, with its strong characters, its sternbattles and its tremendous stretches of loneliness, can never beblotted from my mind. Nor can it, I hope, be blotted from the memory ofthe American people, to whom it has now become a priceless possession. 

It has been my privilege to spend my working years on the frontier. Ihave known and served with commanders like Sherman, Sheridan, Miles, Custer and A. A. Carr--men who would be leaders in any army in any age. I have known and helped to fight with many of the most notable of theIndian warriors. 

Frontiersmen good and bad, gunmen as well as inspired prophets of thefuture, have been my camp companions. Thus, I know the country of whichI am about to write as few men now living have known it. 

Recently, in the hope of giving permanent form to the history of thePlains, I staged many of the Indian battles for the films. Through thecourtesy of the War and Interior Departments I had the help of thesoldiers and the Indians. 

Now that this work has been done I am again in the saddle and at yourservice for what I trust will be a pleasant and perhaps instructivejourney over the old trails. We shall omit the hazards and thehardships, but often we shall leave the iron roads over which thePullman rolls and, back in the hills, see the painted Indians windingup the draws, or watch the more savage Mormon Danites swoop down on thewagon-train. In my later years I have brought the West to theEast--under a tent. Now I hope to bring the people of the East and ofthe New West to the Old West, and possibly here and there to supply newmaterial for history. 

I shall try to vary the journey, for frequent changes of scenes aregrateful to travelers. I shall show you some of the humors as well asthe excitements of the frontier. And our last halting-place will be atsunrise--the sunrise of the New West, with its waving grain-fields, fenced flocks and splendid cities, drawing upon the mountains for thewater to make it fertile, and upon the whole world for men to make itrich. 

I was born on a farm near Leclair, Scott County, Iowa, February 26, 1846. My father, Isaac Cody, had emigrated to what was then a frontierState. He and his people, as well as my mother, had all dwelt in Ohio. I remember that there were Indians all about us, looking savage enoughas they slouched about the village streets or loped along the roads ontheir ponies. But they bore no hostility toward anything save work andsoap and water. 

We were comfortable and fairly prosperous on the little farm. Mymother, whose maiden name was Mary Ann Leacock, took an active part inthe life of the neighborhood. An education was scarce in those days. Even school teachers did not always possess it. Mother's education wasfar beyond the average, and the local school board used to require allapplicants for teachers' position to be examined by her before theywere entrusted with the tender intellects of the pioneer children. 

But the love of adventure was in father's blood. The railroad--the onlyone I had ever seen--extended as far as Port Byron, Illinois, justacross the Mississippi. When the discovery of gold in California in1849 set the whole country wild, this railroad began to bring theArgonauts, bound for the long overland wagon journey across the Plains. Naturally father caught the excitement. In 1850 he made a start, but itwas abandoned--why I never knew. But after that he was not content withIowa. In 1853 our farm and most of our goods and chattels wereconverted into money. And in 1854 we all set out for Kansas, which wassoon to be opened for settlers as a Territory. 

Two wagons carried our household goods. A carriage was provided for mymother and sisters. Father had a trading-wagon built, and stocked itwith red blankets, beads, and other goods with which to tempt theIndians. My only brother had been killed by a fall from a horse, so Iwas second in command, and proud I was of the job. 

My uncle Elijah kept a general store at Weston, Missouri, just acrossthe Kansas line. He was a large exporter of hemp as well as a trader. Also he was a slave-owner. 

Weston was our first objective. Father had determined to take up aclaim in Kansas and to begin a new life in this stirring country. Hadhe foreseen the dreadful consequences to himself and to his family ofthis decision we might have remained in Iowa, in which case perhaps Imight have grown up an Iowa farmer, though that now seems impossible. 

Thirty days of a journey that was a constant delight to me brought usto Weston, where we left the freight-wagons and mother and my sistersin the care of my uncle. 

To my great joy father took me with him on his first trip intoKansas--where he was to pick out his claim and incidentally to tradewith the Indians from our wagon. I shall never forget the thrill thatran through me when father, pointing to the block-house at FortLeavenworth, said:

"Son, you now see a real military fort for the first time in yourlife. " And a real fort it was. Cavalry--or dragoons as they called themthen--were engaged in saber drill, their swords flashing in thesunlight. Artillery was rumbling over the parade ground. Infantry wasmarching and wheeling. About the Post were men dressed all in buckskinwith coonskin caps or broad-brimmed slouch hats--real Westerners ofwhom I had dreamed. Indians of all sorts were loafing about--allfriendly, but a new and different kind of Indians from any I hadseen--Kickapoos, Possawatomies, Delawares, Choctaws, and other tribes, of which I had often heard. Everything I saw fascinated me. 

These drills at the Fort were no fancy dress-parades. They meantbusiness. A thousand miles to the west the Mormons were running thingsin Utah with a high hand. No one at Fort Leavenworth doubted that thesevery troops would soon be on their way to determine whether BrighamYoung or the United States Government should be supreme there. 

To the north and west the hostile Indians, constantly irritated by theencroachments of the white man, had become a growing menace. Theblock-houses I beheld were evidences of preparedness against thisdanger. And in that day the rumblings of the coming struggle overslavery could already be heard. Kansas--very soon afterward "BleedingKansas"--was destined to be an early battleground. And we were soon toknow something of its tragedies. 

Free-soil men and pro-slavery men were then ready to rush across theborder the minute it was opened for settlement. Father was a Free-soilman. His brother Elijah who, as I have said, was a slave-owner, was abeliever in the extension of slavery into the new territory. 

Knowing that the soldiers I saw today might next week be on their wayto battle made my eyes big with excitement. I could have stayed thereforever. But father had other plans, and we were soon on our way. Withour trading-wagon we climbed a hill--later named Sheridan's Ridge forGeneral Philip Sheridan. From its summit we had a view of Salt CreekValley, the most beautiful valley I have ever seen. In this valley layour future home. 

The hill was very steep, and I remember we had to "lock" or chain thewagon-wheels as we descended. We made camp in the valley. The next dayfather began trading with the Indians, who were so pleased with thebargains he had to offer that they sent their friends back to us whenthey departed. One of the first trades he made was for a little ponyfor me--a four-year-old--which I was told I should have to breakmyself. I named him Prince. I had a couple of hard falls, but I made upmy mind I was going to ride that pony or bust, and--I did not bust. 

The next evening, looking over toward the west, I saw a truly frontiersight--a line of trappers winding down the hillside with their packanimals. My mother had often told me of the trappers searching thedistant mountains for fur-bearing animals and living a life offascinating adventure. Here they were in reality. 

While some of the men prepared the skins, others built a fire and beganto get a meal. I watched them cook the dried venison, and was filledwith wonder at their method of making bread, which was to wrap thedough about a stick and hold it over the coals till it was ready toeat. You can imagine my rapture when one of them--a pleasant-facedyouth--looked up, and catching sight of me, invited me to share themeal. 

Boys are always hungry, but I was especially hungry for such a meal asthat. After it was over I hurried to camp and told my father all thathad passed. At his request I brought the young trapper who had been sokind to me over to our camp, and there he had a long talk with father, telling him of his adventures by land and sea in all parts of theworld. 

He said that he looked forward with great interest to his arrival inWeston, as he expected to meet an uncle, Elijah Cody. He had seen noneof his people for many years. 

"If Elijah Cody is your uncle, I am too, " said my father. "You must bethe long-lost Horace Billings. "

Father had guessed right. Horace had wandered long ago from the Ohiohome and none of his family knew of his whereabouts. He had been toSouth America and to California, joining a band of trappers on theColumbia River and coming with them back across the Plains. 

When I showed him my pony he offered to help break him for me. Withvery little trouble he rode the peppery little creature this way andthat, and at last when he circled back to camp I found the animal hadbeen mastered. 

In the days that followed Horace gave me many useful lessons as ahorseman. He was the prettiest rider I had ever seen. There had been astampede of horses from the Fort, and a reward of ten dollars a headhad been offered for all animals brought in. That was easy money forHorace. I would gallop along at his side as he chased the fugitivehorses. He had a long, plaited lariat which settled surely over theneck of the brute he was after. Then, putting a "della walt" on thepommel of his saddle, he would check his own mount and bring hiscaptive to a sudden standstill. He caught and brought in five horsesthe first day, and must have captured twenty-five within the next fewdays, earning a sum of money which was almost a small fortune in thattime. 

Meanwhile the Territory had been opened for settlement. Our claim, overwhich the Great Salt Lake trail for California passed, had been takenup, and as soon as father and I, assisted by men he hired, could getour log cabin up, the family came on from Weston. The cabin was aprimitive affair. There was no floor at first. But gradually we built afloor and partitions, and made it habitable. I spent all my spare timepicking up the Kickapoo tongue from the Indian children in theneighborhood, and listening with both ears to the tales of the wideplains beyond. 

The great freighting firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell was then sendingits twenty-five wagon trains out from the Plains to carry supplies tothe soldiers at the frontier forts. Leavenworth was the firm'sheadquarters. Russell stayed on the books, and Majors was the operatingman on the Plains. The trains were wonderful to me, each wagon with itssix yoke of oxen, wagon-masters, extra hands, assistants, bull-whackersand cavayard driver following with herds of extra oxen. I began atonce making the acquaintance of the men, and by the end of 1854 I knewthem all. 

Up to this time, while bad blood existed between the Free-soilers andthe pro-slavery men, it had not become a killing game. The pro-slaveryMissourians were in the great majority. They harassed the Free-soilersconsiderably and committed many petty persecutions, but no blood wasshed. Father's brother, Elijah, who kept the store at Weston, was knownto be a pro-slavery man, and for a time it was taken for granted thatfather held the same views. But he was never at any pains to hide hisown opinions, being a man who was afraid of nothing. John Brown ofOssawatomie, later hanged, for the Harper's Ferry raid, at Charlestown, Va. , was his friend. So were Colonel Jim Lane and many otherAbolitionists. He went to their houses openly, and they came to his. Heworked hard with the men he had hired, cutting the wild hay andcordwood to sell to the Fort, and planting sod corn under the newlyturned sod of the farm. He also made a garden, plowing and harrowingthe soil and breaking up the sods by hitching horses to branching treesand drawing them over the ground. He minded his own business andavoided all the factional disputes with which the neighborhoodabounded. 

In June, 1856, when I was ten years old, father went to the Fort tocollect his pay for hay and wood he had sold there. I accompanied himon my pony. On our return we saw a crowd of drunken horsemen in frontof Riveley's trading-post--as stores were called on the frontier. Therewere many men in the crowd and they were all drunk, yelling andshooting their pistols in the air. They caught sight of us immediatelyand a few of them advanced toward us as we rode up. Father expectedtrouble, but he was not a man to turn back. We rode quietly up to them, and were about to continue on past when one of them yelled:

"There's that abolition cuss now. Git him up here and make him declar'hisself!"

"Git off that hoss, Cody!" shouted another. 

By this time more than a dozen men were crowding about father, cursingand abusing him. Soon they tore him from his horse. One of them rolleda drygoods box from the store. 

"Now, " he said, "git up on that thar box, and tell us whar' ye stand. "

Standing on the box, father looked at the ringleaders with no sign offear. 

"I am not ashamed of my views, " he said, quietly. "I am not anAbolitionist, and never have been. I think it is better to let slaveryalone in the States where it is now. But I am not at all afraid to tellyou that I am opposed to its extension, and that I believe that itshould be kept out of Kansas. "

His speech was followed by a wild yell of derision. Men began crowdingaround him, cursing and shaking their fists. One of them, whom Irecognized as Charlie Dunn, an employee of my Uncle Elijah, worked hisway through the crowd, and jumped up on the box directly behind father. I saw the gleam of a knife. The next instant, without a groan, fatherfell forward stabbed in the back. Somehow I got off my pony and ran tohis assistance, catching him as he fell. His weight overbore me but Ieased him as he came to the ground. 

Dunn was still standing, knife in hand, seeking a chance for anotherthrust. 

"Look out, ye'll stab the kid!" somebody yelled. Another man, with avestige of decency, restrained the murderer. Riveley came out of thestore. There was a little breaking up of the crowd. Dunn was got away. What happened to him later I shall tell you in another chapter. 

With the help of a friend I got father into a wagon, when the crowd hadgone. I held his head in my lap during the ride home. I believed he wasmortally wounded. He had been stabbed down through the kidneys, leavingan ugly wound. But he did not die of it--then. Mother nursed himcarefully and had he been spared further persecution, he might havesurvived. But this was only the beginning. 

The pro-slavers waited a few days, and finding there was no move tomolest them, grew bold. They announced that they were coming to ourhouse to finish their work. 

One night we heard that a party was organized to carry out thispurpose. As quietly as possible mother helped take father out into thesod corn, which then grew tall and thick close about the cabin. She puta shawl round him and a sun-bonnet on his head to disguise him as hewas taken out. 

There in the sod corn we made him a bed of hay and blankets and therewe kept him for days, carrying food to him by night. These were anxiousdays for my mother and her little family. My first real work as a scoutbegan then, for I had to keep constantly on the watch for raids by theruffians, who had now sworn that father must die. 

As soon as he was able to walk we decided that he must be got away. Twenty-five miles distant, at Grasshopper Falls, were a party of hisfriends. There he hoped one day to plant a colony. With the help of afew friends we moved him thither one night, but word of his whereaboutssoon reached his enemies. 

I kept constantly on the alert, and, hearing that a party had set outto murder him at the Falls, I got into the saddle and sped out to warnhim. 

At a ford on the way I ran into the gang, who had stopped to watertheir horses. 

As I galloped past, one of them yelled: "There's Cody's kid now on hisway to warn his father. Stop, you, and tell us where your old man is. "

A pistol shot, to terrify me into obedience, accompanied the command. Imay have been terrified, but it was not into obedience. I got out ofthere like a shot, and though they rode hard on my trail my pony wastoo fast for them. My warning was in time. 

We got father as quickly as we could to Lawrence, which was anabolition stronghold, and where he was safe for the time being. Hegradually got back a part of his strength, enough of it at any rate toenable him to take part in the repulse of a raid of Missourians whocame over to burn Lawrence and lynch the Abolitionists. They weredriven back across the Missouri River by the Lawrence men, who trappedthem into an ambush and so frightened them that for the present theyrode on their raids no more. 

When father returned to Salt Creek Valley the persecutions began again. The gangsters drove off all our stock and killed all our pigs and eventhe chickens. One night Judge Sharpe, a disreputable old alcoholic whohad been elected a justice of the peace, came to the house and demandeda meal. Mother, trembling for the safety of her husband, who lay sickupstairs, hastened to get it for him. As the old scoundrel sat waitinghe caught sight of me. 

"Look yere, kid, " he shouted, "ye see this knife?"

He drew a long, wicked bowie. "Well, I'm going to sharpen that tofinish up the job that Charlie Dunn began the other day. " And scowlinghorribly at me he began whetting the knife on a stone he picked up fromthe table. 

Now, I knew something about a gun, and there was a gun handy. It wasupstairs, and I lost no time in getting it. Sitting on the stairs Icocked it and held it across my knees. I am sure that I should haveshot him had he attempted to come up those stairs. 

He didn't test my shooting ability, however. He got even with me bytaking my beloved pony, Prince, when he left. Mother pleaded with himto leave it, for it was the only animal we had, but she might as wellhave pleaded with a wildcat. 

We had now been reduced to utter destitution. Our only food was whatrabbits and birds I could trap and catch with the help of our faithfulold dog Turk, and the sod corn which we grated into flour. Father couldbe of no service to us. His presence, in fact, was merely a menace. So, with the help of Brown, Jim Lane and other Free-soilers, he made hisway back to Ohio and began recruiting for his Grasshopper Falls colony. 

He returned to us in the spring of '57 mortally ill. The woundinflicted by Dunn had at last fulfilled the murderer's purpose. Fatherdied in the little log-house, the first man to shed his blood in thefight against the extension of slavery into the Northern Territories. 

I was eleven years old, and the only man of the family. I made up mymind to be a breadwinner. 

At that time the Fort was full of warlike preparations. A great numberof troops were being assembled to send against the Mormons. Trouble hadbeen long expected. United States Judges and Federal officers sent tothe Territory of Utah had been flouted. Some of them never dared taketheir seats. Those who did asked assistance. Congress at last decidedto give it to them. General Harney was to command the expedition. Col. Albert Sidney Johnston, afterward killed at Shiloh, where he fought onthe Confederate side, was in charge of the expedition to which theearliest trains were to be sent. 

Many of the soldiers had already pushed on ahead. Russell, Majors &Waddell were awarded the contract for taking them supplies and beefcattle. The supplies were forwarded in the long trains of twenty-fivewagons, of which I have told you. The cattle were driven after thesoldiers, the herds often falling many miles behind them. 

I watched these great preparations eagerly, and it occurred to me thatI ought to have a share in them. I went to Mr. Majors, whom I alwayscalled Uncle Aleck, and asked him for a job. I told him of oursituation, and that I needed it very badly for the support of my motherand family. 

"But you're only a boy, Billy, " he objected. "What can you do?"

"I can ride as well as a man, " I said. "I could drive cavayard, couldn't I?" Driving cavayard is herding the extra cattle that followthe wagon train. 

Mr. Majors agreed that I could do this, and consented to employ me. Iwas to receive a man's wages, forty dollars a month and food, and thewages were to be paid to my mother while I was gone. With forty dollarsa month she would be able to support her daughters and my baby brotherin comfort. Before I was allowed to go to work Uncle Aleck handed methe oath which every one of his employees must sign. I did my best tolive up to its provisions, but I am afraid that the profanity clause atleast was occasionally violated by some of the bull-whackers. Here isthe oath:

 "We, the undersigned wagon-masters, assistants, teamsters and all other employees of the firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell, do hereby sign that we will not swear, drink whisky, play cards or be cruel to dumb beasts in any way, shape or form. 

 his (Signed) "WILLIAM FREDERICK X CODY. " mark

I signed it with my mark, for I could not write then. Afteradministering this ironclad oath Mr. Majors gave each man a Testament. 

My first job was that of accompanying a herd of cattle destined forbeef for the troops that had gone on ahead. Bill McCarthy, boss of theoutfit, was a typical Westerner, rough but courageous, and with plentyof experience on the frontier. 

We progressed peacefully enough till we made Plum Creek, thirty-sixmiles west of Fort Kearney, on the South Platte. The trip had been fullof excitement for me. The camp life was rough, the bacon often rustyand the flour moldy, but the hard work gave us big appetites. Plainsmenlearn not to be particular. 

I remember that on some of our trips we obtained such "luxuries" asdried apples and beans as part of our supplies. We could only havethese once every two or three days, and their presence in the mess wasalways a glad occasion. 

We were nooning at Plum Creek, the cattle spread out over the prairieto graze in charge of two herders. Suddenly there was a sharp Bang!Bang! Bang! and a thunder of hoofs. 

"Indians! They've shot the herders and stampeded the cattle!" criedMcCarthy. "Get under the banks of the river, boys--use 'em for abreastwork!"

We obeyed orders quickly. The Platte, a wide, shallow, muddy stream, flows under banks which vary from five to thirty feet in height. Behindthem we were in much the position of European soldiers in a trench. Wehad our guns, and if the Indians showed over the bank could have madeit hot for them. 

McCarthy told us to keep together and to make our way down the river toFort Kearney, the nearest refuge. It was a long and wearying journey, but our lives depended on keeping along the river bed. Often we wouldhave to wade the stream which, while knee-deep to the men, waswell-nigh waist-deep to me. Gradually I fell behind, and when nightcame I was dragging one weary step after another--dog-tired but stillclinging to my old Mississippi Yaeger rifle, a short muzzle-loaderwhich carried a ball and two buckshot. 

Darkness came, and I still toiled along. The men ahead were almost outof hearing. Presently the moon rose, dead ahead of me. And paintedboldly across its face was the black figure of an Indian. There couldbe no mistaking him for a white man. He wore the war-bonnet of theSioux, and at his shoulder was a rifle, pointed at someone in thebottom below him. I knew well enough that in another second he woulddrop one of my friends. So I raised my Yaeger and fired. I saw thefigure collapse, and heard it come tumbling thirty feet down the bank, landing with a splash in the water. 

McCarthy and the rest of the party, hearing the shot, came back in ahurry. 

"What is it?" asked McCarthy, when he came up to me. 

"I don't know, " I said. "Whatever it is, it is down there in thewater. "

McCarthy ran over to the brave. "Hi!" he cried. "Little Billy's killedan Indian all by himself!"

Not caring to meet any of this gentleman's friends we pushed on stillfaster toward Fort Kearney, which we reached about daylight. We weregiven food and sent to bed, while the soldiers set out to look for ourslain comrades and to try to recover our cattle. 

Soldiers from Fort Leavenworth found the herders, killed and mutilatedin the Indian fashion. But the cattle had been stampeded among thebuffalo and it was impossible to recover a single head. 

We were taken back to Leavenworth on one of the returning freightwagon-trains. The news of my exploit was noised about and made me theenvy of all the boys of the neighborhood. The Leavenworth _Times_, published by D. B. Anthony, sent a reporter to get the story of theadventure, and in it my name was printed for the first time as theyoungest Indian slayer of the Plains. 

I was persuaded now that I was destined to lead a life on the Plains. The two months that our ill-fated expedition had consumed had notdiscouraged me. Once more I applied to Mr. Majors for a job. 

"You seem to have a reputation as a frontiersman, Billy, " he said; "Iguess I'll have to give yon another chance. " He turned me over to LewSimpson, who was boss of a twenty-five wagon-train just starting withsupplies for General Albert Sidney Johnston's army, which was then onits way to Great Salt Lake to fight the Mormons, whose DestroyingAngels, or Danites, were engaged in many outrages on Gentileimmigrants. 

Simpson appeared to be glad to have me. "We need Indian fighters, Billy, " he told me, and giving me a mule to ride assigned me to a jobas cavayard driver. 

Our long train, twenty-five wagons in a line, each with its six yoke ofoxen, rolled slowly out of Leavenworth over the western trail. Wagon-master assistants, bull-whackers--thirty men in all not tomention the cavayard driver--it was an imposing sight. This was to be along journey, clear to the Utah country, and I eagerly looked forwardto new adventures. 

The first of these came suddenly. We were strung out over the trailnear the Platte, about twenty miles from the scene of the Indian attackon McCarthy's outfit, watching the buffalo scattered to right and leftof us, when we heard two or three shots, fired in rapid succession. 

Before we could find out who fired them, down upon us came a herd ofbuffalo, charging in a furious stampede. There was no time to doanything but jump behind our wagons. The light mess-wagon was drawn bysix yoke of Texas steers which instantly became part of the stampede, tearing away over the prairie with the buffalo, our wagon followingalong behind. The other wagons were too heavy for the steers to gallopaway with; otherwise the whole outfit would have gone. 

I remember that one big bull came galloping down between two yoke ofoxen, tearing away the gooseneck and the heavy chain with each loweredhorn. I can still see him as he rushed away with these remarkabledecorations dangling from either side. Whether or not his new ornamentsexcited the admiration of his fellows when the herd came to a standlater in the day, I can only guess. 

The descent of the buffalo upon us lasted only a few minutes, but somuch damage was done that three days were required to repair it beforewe could move on. We managed to secure our mess-wagon, again, which waslucky, for it contained all our provender. 

We learned afterward that the stampede had been caused by a returningparty of California gold-seekers, whose shots into the herd had beenour first warning of what was coming. Twice before we neared the Mormoncountry we were attacked by Indians. The army was so far ahead thatthey had become bold. We beat off the attacks, but lost two men. 

It was white men, however, not Indians, who were to prove our mostdangerous enemies. Arriving near Green River we were nooning on a ridgeabout a mile and a half from a little creek, Halm's Fork, where thestock were driven to water. This was a hundred and fifteen miles eastof Salt Lake City, and well within the limits of the Mormon country. 

Most of the outfit had driven the cattle to the creek, a mile and ahalf distant, and were returning slowly, while the animals grazed alongthe way back to camp. I was with them. We were out of sight of thewagons. 

As we rose the hill a big bearded man, mounted and surrounded by aparty of armed followers, rode up to our wagon-master. 

"Throw up your hands, Simpson!" said the leader, who knew Simpson'sname and his position. 

Simpson was a brave man, but the strangers had the drop and up went hishands. At the same time we saw that the wagons were surrounded byseveral hundred men, all mounted and armed, and the teamsters allrounded up in a bunch. We knew that we had fallen into the hands of theMormon Danites, or Destroying Angels, the ruffians who perpetrated thedreadful Mountain Meadows Massacre of the same year. The leader was LotSmith, one of the bravest and most determined of the whole crowd. 

"Now, Simpson, " he said, "we are going to be kind to you. You can haveone wagon with the cattle to draw it. Get into it all the provisionsand blankets you can carry, and turn right round and go back to theMissouri River. You're headed in the wrong direction. "

"Can we have our guns?" asked Simpson. 

"Not a gun. "

"Six-shooters?"

"Not a six-shooter. Nothing but food and blankets. "

"How are we going to protect ourselves on the way?"

"That's your business. We're doing you a favor to spare your lives. "

All Simpson's protests were in vain. There were thirty of us againstseveral hundred of them. Mormons stood over us while we loaded a wagontill it sagged with provisions, clothing and blankets. They had takenaway every rifle and every pistol we possessed. Ordering us to hike forthe East, and informing us that we would be shot down if we attemptedto turn back, they watched us depart. 

When we had moved a little way off we saw a blaze against the skybehind us, and knew that our wagon-train had been fired. The greasybacon made thick black smoke and a bright-red flame, and for a longtime the fire burned, till nothing was left but the iron bolts andaxles and tires. 

Smith's party, which had been sent out to keep all supplies fromreaching Johnston's army, had burned two other wagon-trains that sameday, as we afterward learned. The wagons were all completely consumed, and for the next few years the Mormons would ride out to the scenes toget the iron that was left in the ashes. 

Turned adrift on the desert with not a weapon to defend ourselves washardly a pleasant prospect. It meant a walk of a thousand miles home toLeavenworth. The wagon was loaded to its full capacity. There wasnothing to do but walk. I was not yet twelve years old, but I had towalk with the rest the full thousand miles, and we made nearly thirtymiles a day. 

Fortunately we were not molested by Indians. From passing wagon-trainswe got a few rifles, all they could spare, and with these we were ableto kill game for fresh meat. I wore out three pairs of moccasins onthat journey, and learned then that the thicker are the soles of yourshoes, the easier are your feet on a long walk over rough ground. 

After a month of hard travel we reached Leavenworth. I set out at oncefor the log-cabin home, whistling as I walked, and the first to welcomeme was my old dog Turk, who came tearing toward me and almost knockedme down in his eagerness. I am sure my mother and sisters were mightyglad to see me. They had feared that I might never return. 

My next journey over the Plains was begun under what, to me, were veryexciting circumstances. I spent the winter of '57-'58 at school. Mymother was anxious about my education. But the master of the frontierschool wore out several armfuls of hazel switches in a vain effort tointerest me in the "three R's. "

I kept thinking of my short but adventurous past. And as soon asanother opportunity offered to return to it I seized it eagerly. 

That spring my former boss, Lew Simpson, was busily organizing a"lightning bull team" for his employers, Russell, Majors & Waddell. Albert Sidney Johnston's soldiers, then moving West, needed supplies, and needed them in a hurry. Thus far the mule was the reindeer of draftanimals, and mule trains were forming to hurry the needful supplies tothe soldiers. 

But Simpson had great faith in the bull. A picked bull train, heallowed, could beat a mule train all hollow on a long haul. All hewanted was a chance to prove it. 

His employers gave him the chance. For several weeks he had beenpicking his animals for the outfit. And now he was to begin what isperhaps the most remarkable race ever made across the Plains. 

A mule train was to start a week after Simpson's lightning bulls begantheir westward course. Whichever outfit got to Fort Laramie first wouldbe the winner. No more excitement could have been occasioned had thecontestants been a reindeer and a jack-rabbit. To my infinite delightSimpson let me join his party. 

My thousand-mile tramp over the Plains had cured me of the walkinghabit and I was glad to find that this time I was to have a horse toride--part of the way, anyhow. I was to be an extra hand--which meantthat by turns I was to be a bull-whacker, driver and general-utilityman. 

I remember that our start was a big event. Men, women and childrenwatched our chosen animals amble out of Salt Creek. The "muleskinners, " busy with preparations for their own departure, stopped workto jeer us. 

"We'll ketch you in a couple of days or so!" yelled Tom Stewart, bossof the mule outfit. 

But Simpson only grinned. Jeers couldn't shake his confidence either inhimself or his long-horned motive power. 

We made the first hundred and fifty miles easily. I was glad to be aplainsman once more, and took a lively interest in everything that wentforward. We were really making speed, too, which added to theexcitement. The ordinary bull team could do about fifteen miles a day. Under Simpson's command his specially selected bulls were doingtwenty-five, and doing it right along. 

But one day, while we were nooning about one hundred and fifty miles onthe way, one of the boys shouted: "Here come the mules!"

Presently Stewart's train came shambling up, and a joyful lot the "muleskinners" were at what they believed their victory. 

But it was a short-lived victory. At the end of the next three hundredmiles we found them, trying to cross the Platte, and making heavy workof it. The grass fodder had told on the mules. Supplies from othersources were now exhausted. There were no farms, no traders, no grainto be had. The race had become a race of endurance, and the strongeststomachs were destined to be the winners. 

Stewart made a bad job of the crossing. The river was high, and hismules quickly mired down in the quicksand. The more they pawed thedeeper they went. 

Simpson picked a place for crossing below the ford Stewart had chosen. He put enough bulls on a wagon to insure its easy progress, and thebulls wallowed through the sand on their round bellies, using theirlegs as paddles. 

Steward pulled ahead again after he had crossed the river, but soon hismules grew too feeble to make anything like their normal speed. Wepassed them for good and all a few days farther on, and were far aheadwhen we reached the North Platte. 

Thus ended a race that I shall never forget. Since that time thestage-coach has outdistanced the bull team, the pony express has sweptpast the stage-coach, the locomotive has done in an hour what theprairie schooner did in three or four days. Soon the aeroplane will beracing with the automobile for the cross-country record. 

But the bull team and the mule team were the continental carriers ofthat day, and I am very glad that I took part--on the winning side--ina race between them. 

We soon began meeting parties of soldiers, and lightening our loads byissuing supplies to them. When at last we reacted Fort Laramie, theoutfit was ordered to Fort Walback, located in Cheyenne Pass, twenty-five miles from where Cheyenne stands today, and ninety milesfrom Fort Laramie. 

This was in the very heart of the Indian country. Our animals were tohaul in plows, tools and whatever was necessary in the constructing ofthe new fort then building. The wagon-beds were taken from the wagonsto enable the hauling of greater loads. The beds were piled up at FortLaramie, and I was assigned to watch them. It was here that I hadabundant time and opportunity to study the West at first hand. Heretofore I had been on the march. Now I was on fixed post with plentyof time for observation. 

Fort Laramie was an old frontier post, such as has not existed for manyyears. Nearby, three or four thousand Sioux, Northern Cheyennes andNorthern Arapahoes were encamped, most of them spending much of thetime at the post. Laramie had been established by a fur-trading companyin 1834. In 1840 or thereabouts the Government bought it and made it amilitary post. It had become the most famous meeting-place of thePlains. Here the greatest Indian councils were held, and here also camethe most celebrated of the Indian fighters, men whose names had longbeen known to me, but whom I never dared hope to see. 

Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, Baker, Richards and other of the celebratedhunters, trappers and Indian fighters were as familiar about the postas are bankers in Wall Street. All these men fascinated me, especiallyCarson, a small, dapper, quiet man whom everybody held in profoundrespect. 

I used to sit for hours and watch him and the others talk to theIndians in the sign language. Without a sound they would carry on longand interesting conversations, tell stories, inquire about game andtrails, and discuss pretty much everything that men find worthdiscussing. 

I was naturally desirous of mastering this mysterious medium of speech, and began my education in it with far more interest than I had given tothe "three R's" back at Salt Creek. My wagon-beds became splendidplayhouses for the Indian children from the villages, who are very muchlike other children, despite their red skins. 

I joined them in their games, and from them picked up a fair workingknowledge of the Sioux language. The acquaintance I formed here was tosave my scalp and life later, but I little suspected it then. 

I spent the summer of '58 in and about Laramie. I was getting to be abig, husky boy now, and felt that I had entered on what was to be mycareer--as indeed I had. 

In January, '59, Simpson was ordered back to Missouri as brigadetrain-master of three wagon-trains, traveling a day apart. Because ofmuch travel the grass along the regular trail was eaten so close thatthe feed for the bulls was scanty. 

Instead of following the trail down the South Platte, therefore, Simpson picked a new route along the North Platte. There was no road, but the grass was still long, and forage for the cattle was necessary. 

We had accomplished about half our journey with no sign of hostileIndians. Then one day, as Simpson, George Woods and I were riding aheadto overtake the lead train, a party of Sioux bore down on us, plainlyintent on mischief. There was little time to act. No cover of any kindwas to be had. For us three, even with our rifles, to have stood upagainst the Sioux in the open would have been suicide. Simpson had beentrained to think quickly. Swinging the three mules so that they formeda triangle, he drew his six-shooter and dropped them where they stood. 

"Now there's a little cover, boys, " he said, and we all made ready forthe attack. 

Our plan of defense was now made for us. First rifles, then, at closerquarters, revolvers. If it came to a hand-to-hand conflict we had ourknives as a last resort. 

The Sioux drew up when they saw how quickly Simpson's wit had built abarricade for us. Then the arrows began to fly and among them spattereda few bullets. We were as sparing as possible with our shots. Most ofthem told. I had already learned how to use a rifle, and was gladindeed that I had. If ever a boy stood in need of that kind ofpreparedness I did. 

Down came the Indians, with the blood-curdling yell which is always afeature of their military strategy. We waited till they got well withinrange. Then at Simpson's order we fired. Three ponies gallopedriderless over the prairie, and our besiegers hesitated, then wheeled, and rode out of range. But our rest was short. Back they came. Again wefired, and had the good fortune to stop three more of them. 

Simpson patted me encouragingly on the shoulder. "You're all right, Billy!" he said, and his praise was music to my ears. 

By this time our poor dead mules, who had given their lives for ours, were stuck full of arrows. Woods had been winged in the shoulder. Simpson, carefully examining the wound, expressed his belief that thearrow which inflicted it had not been poisoned. 

[Illustration: A SHOWER OF ARROWS RAINED ON OUR DEAD MULES FROM THECLOSING CIRCLE OF RED-MEN]

But we had little time to worry about that or anything else. Ourenemies were still circling, just out of range. Here and there whenthey grew incautious we dropped a man or a pony. But we were stillheavily outnumbered. They knew it and we knew it. Unless help came itwas only a question of time till it was all over. 

Daylight came and they still held off. Eagerly we looked to thewestward, but no wagon-train appeared. We began to fear that somethinghad happened to our friends, when, suddenly one of the Indians jumpedup, and with every evidence of excitement signaled to the others. In aninstant they were all mounted. 

"They hear the crack of the bull-whip, " said Woods. 

He was right. Without another glance in our direction the Siouxgalloped away toward the foot-hills, and as they disappeared we heardthe welcome snap of the long bull-whip, and saw the first of our wagonscoming up the trail. In that day, however, the plainsman was deliveredout of one peril only to be plunged into another. His days seldomdragged for want of excitement. 

When we got to Leavenworth, Simpson sent three of us ahead with thetrain-book record of the men's time, so that their money would be readyfor them when they arrived at Leavenworth. 

Our boss's admonition to ride only at night and to lie under cover indaytime was hardly needed. We cared for no more Indian adventures justthen. 

We made fairly good progress till we got to the Little Blue, inColorado. It was an uncomfortable journey, finding our way by the starsat night and lying all day in such shelters as were to be found. Butthe inconvenience of it was far preferable to being made targets forIndian arrows. 

We were sheltered one night from one of the fearful prairie blizzardsthat make fall and winter terrible. We had found a gulley washed out byan autumn storm, and it afforded a little protection against the wind. Looking down the ravine I saw ponies moving. I knew there were Indiansnear, and we looked about for a hiding-place. 

At the head of the ravine I had noticed a cave-like hollow. I signaledto the two men to follow me, and soon we were snug in a safehiding-place. As we were settling down to rest one of the men lit hispipe. As the cave was illuminated by the glow of the match there was awild yell. I thought all the Indians in the world had jumped us. Butthe yell had come from my companions. 

We were in the exact center of the most grew-some collection of humanskulls and bones I have ever seen. Bones were strewn on the floor ofthe cave like driftwood. Skulls were grinning at us from every cornerof the darkness. We had stumbled into a big grave where some of theIndians had hidden their dead away from the wolves after a battle. Itmay be that none of us were superstitious, but we got out of there in ahurry, and braved the peril of the storm and the Indians as best wecould. 

I was a rich boy when I got to Leavenworth. I had nearly a thousanddollars to turn over to my mother as soon as I should draw my pay. After a joyful reunion with the family I hitched up a pair of ponies, and drove her over so that she could witness this pleasing ceremony. Aswe were driving home, I heard her sobbing, and was deeply concerned, for this seemed to me no occasion for tears. I was quick to ask thereason, and her answer made me serious. 

"You couldn't even write your name, Willie, " she said. "You couldn'tsign the payroll. To think my boy cannot so much as write his name!"

I thought that over all the way home, and determined it should neverhappen again. 

In Uncle Aleck Majors' book, "Seventy Years on the Frontier, " herelates how on every wagon-sheet and wagon-bed, on every tree and barndoor, he used to find the name "William F. Cody" in a large, uncertainscrawl. Those were my writing lessons, and I took them daily until Ihad my signature plastered pretty well over the whole of Salt CreekValley. 

I went to school for a time after that, and at last began really totake an interest in education. But the Pike's Peak gold rush took mewith it. I could never resist the call of the trail. With another boywho knew as little of gold-mining as I did we hired out with abull-train for Denver, then called Aurora. 

We each had fifty dollars when we got to the gold country, and with itwe bought an elaborate outfit. But there was no mining to be done saveby expensive machinery, and we had our labor for our pains. At last, both of us strapped, we got work as timber cutters, which lasted onlyuntil we found it would take us a week to fell a tree. At last we hiredout once more as bull-whackers. That job we understood, and at it weearned enough money to take us home. 

We hired a carpenter to build us a boat, loaded it with grub andsupplies, and started gayly down the Platte for home. But the bad luckof that trip held steadily. The boat was overturned in swift andshallow water, and we were stranded, wet and helpless, on the bank, many miles from home or anywhere else. 

Then a miracle happened. Along the trail we heard the familiar crack ofa bull-whip, and when the train came up we found it was the same withwhich we had enlisted for the outward journey, returning to Denver withmining machinery. Among this machinery was a big steam-boiler, thefirst to be taken into Colorado. On the way out the outfit had beenjumped by Indians. The wagon boss, knowing the red man's fear ofcannon, had swung the great boiler around so that it had appeared topoint at them. Never was so big a cannon. Even the 42-centimeterhowitzers of today could not compare with it. The Indians took one lookat it, then departed that part of the country as fast as their poniescould travel. 

We stuck with the train into Denver and back home again, and glad wewere to retire from gold-mining. 

Soon after my return to Salt Creek Valley I decided on another and, Ithought, a better way to make a fortune for myself and my family. 

During my stay in and about Fort Laramie I had seen much of the Indiantraders, and accompanied them on a number of expeditions. Theirbusiness was to sell to the Indians various things they needed, chieflyguns and ammunition, and to take in return the current Indian coin, which consisted of furs. 

With the supplies bought by the money I had earned on the trip withSimpson, mother and my sisters were fairly comfortable. I felt that Ishould be able to embark in the fur business on my own account--not asa trader but as a trapper. 

With my friend Dave Harrington as a companion I set out. Harrington wasolder than I, and had trapped before in the Rockies. I was sure thatwith my knowledge of the Plains and his of the ways of the fur-bearinganimals, we should form an excellent partnership, as in truth we did. 

We bought a yoke of oxen, a wagon-sheet, wagon, traps of all sorts, andstrychnine with which to poison wolves. Also we laid in a supply ofgrub--no luxuries, but coffee, flour, bacon and everything that weactually needed to sustain life. 

We headed west, and about two hundred miles from home we struck PrairieCreek, where we found abundant signs of beaver, mink, otter and otherfur-bearing animals. No Indians had troubled us, and we felt safe inestablishing headquarters here and beginning work. The first task wasto build a dugout in a hillside, which we roofed with brush, longgrass, and finally dirt, making everything snug and cozy. A littlefireplace in the wall served as both furnace and kitchen. Outside webuilt a corral for the oxen, which completed our camp. 

Our trapping was successful from the start, and we were sure thatprosperity was at last in sight. 

We set our steel traps along the "runs" used by the animals, takinggreat care to hide our tracks, and give the game no indication of thepresence of an enemy. The pelts began to pile up in our shack. Most ofthe day we were busy at the traps, or skinning and salting the hides, and at night we would sit by our little fire and swap experiences tillwe fell asleep. Always there was the wail of the coyotes and the criesof other animals without, but as long as we saw no Indians we were notworried. 

One night, just as we were dozing off, we heard a tremendous commotionin the corral. Harrington grabbed his gun and hurried out. He was justin time to see a big bear throw one of our oxen and proceed with thework of butchering him. 

He fired, and the bear, slightly wounded, left the ox and turned hisattention to his assailant. He was leaping at my partner, growlingsavagely when I, gun in hand, rounded the corner of the shack. I tookthe best aim I could get in the dark, and the bear, which was within afew feet of my friend, rolled over dead. 

Making sure that he was past harming us we turned our attention to thepoor bull, but he was too far gone to recover, and another bullet puthim out of his misery. 

We were now left without a team, and two hundred miles from home. Butwealth in the shape of pelts was accumulating about us, and wedetermined to stick it out till spring. Then one of us could go to thenearest settlement for a teammate for our remaining steer, while theother stayed in charge of the camp. 

This plan had to be carried out far sooner than we expected. A few dayslater we espied a herd of elk, which meant plentiful and excellentmeat. We at once started in pursuit. Creeping stealthily along towardthem, keeping out of sight, and awaiting an opportunity to get a goodshot, I slipped on a stone in the creek bed. 

"Snap!" went something and looking down I saw my foot hanging useless. I had broken my leg just above the ankle and my present career as afur-trapper had ended. 

I was very miserable when Harrington came up. I urged him to shoot meas he had the ox, but he laughingly replied that that would hardly do. 

"I'll bring you out all right!" he said. "I owe you a life anyway forsaving me from that bear. I learned a little something about surgerywhen I was in Illinois, and I guess I can fix you up. "

He got me back to camp after a long and painful hour and with awagon-bow, which he made into a splint, set the fracture. But ourenterprise was at an end. Help would have to be found now, and beforespring. One man and a cripple could never get through the winter. 

It was determined that Harrington must go for this needful assistancejust as soon as possible. He placed me on our little bunk, with plentyof blankets to cover me. All our provisions he put within my reach. Acup was lashed to a long sapling, and Harrington made a hole in theside of the dugout so that I could reach this cup out to a snow-bankfor my water supply. 

Lastly he cut a great pile of wood and heaped it near the fire. Withoutleaving the bunk I could thus do a little cooking, keep the fire up, and eat and sleep. It was not a situation that I would have chosen, butthere was nothing else to do. 

The nearest settlement was a hundred and twenty-five miles distant. Harrington figured that he could make the round trip in twenty days. Mysupplies were ample to last that long. I urged him to start as soon aspossible, that he might the sooner return with a new yoke of oxen. ThenI could be hauled out to where medical attendance was to be had. 

I watched him start off afoot, and my heart was heavy. But soon Istopped thinking of my pain and began to find ways and means to cure myloneliness. We had brought with us a number of books, and these I readthrough most of my waking hours. But the days grew longer and longerfor all that. Every morning when I woke I cut a notch in a long stickto mark its coming. I had cut twelve of these notches when one morningI was awakened from a sound sleep by the touch of a hand on myshoulder. 

Instantly concluding that Harrington had returned, I was about to cryout in delight when I caught a glimpse of a war-bonnet, surmounting theugly, painted face of a Sioux brave. 

The brilliant colors that had been smeared on his visage told me moreforcibly than words could have done that his tribe was on the warpath. It was a decidedly unpleasant discovery for me. 

While he was asking me in the Sioux language what I was doing there, and how many more were in the party, other braves began crowdingthrough the door till the little dugout was packed as full of Siouxwarriors as it could hold. 

Outside I could hear the stamping of horses and the voices of morewarriors. I made up my mind it was all over but the scalping. 

And then a stately old brave worked his way through the crowd and cametoward my bunk. It was plain from the deference accorded him by theothers that he was a chief. And as soon as I set eyes on him Irecognized him as old Rain-in-the-Face, whom I had often seen andtalked with at Fort Laramie, and whose children taught me the Siouxlanguage as we played about the wagon-beds together. Among thesechildren was the son who succeeded to the name of Rain-in-the-Face, andwho years later, it is asserted, killed General George A. Custer in themassacre of the Little Big Horn. 

I showed the chief my broken leg, and asked him if he did not rememberme. He replied that he did. I asked him if he intended to kill the boywho had been his children's playmate. He consulted with his warriors, who had begun busily to loot the cabin. After a long parley the old mantold me that my life would be spared, but my gun and pistol and all myprovisions would be regarded as the spoils of the war. 

Vainly I pointed out that he might as well kill me as leave me withoutfood or the means to defend myself against wolves. He said that hisyoung men had granted a great deal in consenting to spare my life. Asfor food, he pointed to the carcass of a deer that hung from the wall. 

The next morning they mounted their ponies and galloped away. I wasglad enough to see them go. I knew that my life had hung by a threadwhile I had been their involuntary host. Only my friendship with thechildren of old Rain-in-the-Face had saved me. 

But, even with the Indians gone, I was in a desperate situation. Asthey had taken all my matches I had to keep the fire goingcontinuously. This meant that I could not sleep long at a time, thelack of rest soon began to tell on me. I would cut slices from the deercarcass with my knife, and holding it over the fire with a long stick, cook it, eating it without salt. Coffee I must do without altogether. 

The second day after the departure of the Indians a great snow fell. The drifts blocked the doorway and covered the windows. It lay to adepth of several feet on the roof over my head. My woodpile was coveredby the snow that drifted in and it was with great difficulty that Icould get enough wood to keep my little fire going. And on that firedepended my life. Worse than all these troubles was the knowledge thatthe heavy snow would be sure to delay Harrington. 

I would lie there, day after day, a prey to all sorts of darkimaginings. I fancied him killed by Indians on the trail, or snowboundand starving on the Plains. Each morning my notches on my calendarstick were made. Gradually their number grew till at last the twentiethwas duly cut. But no Harrington came. 

The wolves, smelling meat within, had now begun to gather round inincreasing numbers. They made the night hideous with their howlings, and pawed and scratched and dug at the snow by the doorway, determinedto come in and make a meal of everything the dugout contained, myselfincluded. 

How I endured it I do not know. But the Plains teach men and boysfortitude. Many and many a time as I lay there I resolved that if Ishould ever be spared to go back to my home and friends, the frontiershould know me no more. 

It was on the twenty-ninth day, as marked on stick, when I had aboutgiven up hope, that I heard a cheerful voice shouting "Whoa!" andrecognized it as the voice of Harrington. A criminal on the scaffordwith the noose about his neck and the trap sagging underneath his feetcould not have welcomed a pardon more eagerly than I welcomed mydeliverance out of this torture-chamber. 

I could make no effort to open the door for him. But I found voice toanswer him when he cried "Hello, Billy!" and in response to hisquestion assured him that I was all right. He soon cleared a passagewaythrough the snow, and stood beside me. 

"I never expected to see you alive again, " he said; "I had a terribletrip. I didn't think I should ever get through--caught in the snowstormand laid up for three days. The cattle wandered away and I came withinan ace of losing them altogether. When I got started again the snow wasso deep I couldn't make much headway. "

"Well, you're here, " I said, giving him a hug. 

Harrington had made a trip few men could have made. He had risked hislife to save mine. All alone he had brought a yoke of oxen over acountry where the trails were all obscured and the blinding snow madeevery added mile more perilous. 

I was still unable to walk, and he had to do all the work of packing upfor the trip home. In a few days he had loaded the pelts on board thewagon, covered it with the wagon-sheet we had used in the dugout, andmade me a comfortable bed inside. We had three hundred beaver and onehundred otter skins to show for our work. That meant a lot of moneywhen we should get them to the settlements. 

On the eighth day of the journey home we reached a ranch on theRepublican River, where we rested for a couple of days. Then we went onto the ranch where Harrington had obtained his cattle and paid for theyoke with twenty-five beaver skins, the equivalent of a hundred dollarsin money. 

At the end of twenty days' travel we reached Salt Creek Valley, where Iwas welcomed by my mother and sisters as one returned from the dead. 

So grateful was my mother to Harrington for what he had done for methat she insisted on his making his home with us. This he decided todo, and took charge of our farm. The next spring, this man, who hadsafely weathered the most perilous of journeys over the Plains, caughtcold while setting out some trees and fell ill. We brought a doctorfrom Lawrence, and did everything in our power to save him, but in aweek he died. The loss of a member of our own family could not haveaffected us more. 

I was now in my fifteenth year and possessed of a growing appetite foradventure. A very few months had so dulled the memory of my sufferingsin the dugout that I had forgotten all about my resolve to forsake thefrontier forever. I looked about me for something new and still moreexciting. 

I was not long in finding it. In April, 1860, the firm of Russell, Majors & Waddell organized the wonderful "Pony Express, " the mostpicturesque messenger-service that this country has ever seen. Theroute was from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California, adistance of two thousand miles, across the Plains, over a drearystretch of sagebrush and alkali desert, and through two great mountainranges. 

The system was really a relay race against time. Stations were built atintervals averaging fifteen miles apart. A rider's route covered threestations, with an exchange of horses at each, so that he was expectedat the beginning to cover close to forty-five miles--a good ride whenone must average fifteen miles an hour. 

The firm undertaking the enterprise had been busy for some time pickingthe best ponies to be had for money, and the lightest, most wiry andmost experienced riders. This was a life that appealed to me, and Istruck for a job. I was pretty young in years, but I had already earneda reputation for coming safe out of perilous adventures, and I washired. 

Naturally our equipment was the very lightest. The messages which wecarried were written on the thinnest paper to be found. These wecarried in a waterproof pouch, slung under our arms. We wore only suchclothing as was absolutely necessary. 

The first trip of the Pony Express was made in ten days--an average oftwo hundred miles a day. But we soon began stretching our riders andmaking better time. Soon we shortened the time to eight days. PresidentBuchanan's last Presidential message in December, 1860, was carried ineight days. President Lincoln's inaugural, the following March, tookonly seven days and seventeen hours for the journey between St. Josephand Sacramento. 

We soon got used to the work. When it became apparent to the men incharge that the boys could do better than forty-five miles a day thestretches were lengthened. The pay of the rider was from $100 to $125 amonth. It was announced that the further a man rode the better would behis pay. That put speed and endurance into all of us. 

Stern necessity often compelled us to lengthen our day's work evenbeyond our desires. In the hostile Indian country, riders werefrequently shot. In such an event the man whose relief had been killedhad to ride on to the next station, doing two men's ride. Road-agentswere another menace, and often they proved as deadly as the Indians. 

In stretching my own route I found myself getting further and furtherwest. Finally I was riding well into the foothills of the Rockies. Still further west my route was pushed. Soon I rode from Red Buttes toSweetwater, a distance of seventy-six miles. Road-agents and Indiansinfested this country. I never was quite sure when I started out when Ishould reach my destination, or whether I should never reach it at all. 

One day I galloped into the station at Three Crossings to find that myrelief had been killed in a drunken row the night before. There was noone to take his place. His route was eighty-five miles across countryto the west. I had no time to think it over. Selecting a good pony outof the stables I was soon on my way. 

I arrived at Rocky Ridge, the end of the new route, on schedule time, and turning back came on to Red Buttes, my starting-place. The roundtrip was 320 miles, and I made it in twenty-one hours and fortyminutes. 

Excitement was plentiful during my two years' service as a Pony Expressrider. One day as I was leaving Horse Creek, a party of fifteen Indiansjammed me in a sand ravine eight miles west of the station. They firedat me repeatedly, but my luck held, and I went unscathed. My mount wasa California roan pony, the fastest in the stables. I dug the spursinto his sides, and, lying flat on his back, I kept straight on forSweetwater Bridge eleven miles distant. A turn back to Horse Creekmight have brought me more speedily to shelter, but I did not dare riskit. 

The Indians came on behind, riding with all the speed they could putinto their horses, but my pony drew rapidly ahead. I had a lead of twomiles when I reached the station. There I found I could get no newpony. The stock-tender had been killed by the Indians during the night. All his ponies had been stolen and driven off. I kept on, therefore, toPlonts Station, twelve miles further along, riding the same pony--aride of twenty-four miles on one mount. At Plonts I told the peoplewhat had happened at Sweetwater Bridge. Then, with a fresh horse, Ifinished my route without further adventure. 

[Illustration: PURSUED BY FIFTEEN BLOODTHIRSTY INDIANS, I HAD A RUNNINGFIGHT OF ELEVEN MILES]

CHAPTER II

About the middle of September the Indians became very troublesome onthe line of the stage along the Sweetwater, between Split Rock andThree Crossings. A stage had been robbed and two passengers killedoutright. Lem Flowers, the driver, was badly wounded. The thievishredskins also drove stock repeatedly from the stations. They werecontinually lying in wait for passing stages and Pony Express riders. It was useless to keep the Express going until these depredations couldbe stopped. A lay-off of six weeks was ordered, and our time was ourown. 

While we were thus idle a party was organized to carry the war into theIndians' own country, and teach them that the white man's property mustbe let alone. This party I joined. 

Stage-drivers, express-riders, stock-tenders and ranchmen, forty innumber, composed this party. All were well armed; all were good shots, and brave, determined men. "Wild Bill" Hickock, another of the Westerngunmen of whom I shall have something to tell later, was captain of theexpedition. He had come recently to our division as a stage-driver andhad the experience and courage necessary to that kind of leadership. 

Twenty miles out from Sweetwater Bridge, at the head of Horse Creek, wefound an Indian trail running north toward Powder River. We could seethat the horses had been recently shod, conclusive proof that they wereour stolen stock. We pushed on as fast as we could along the trail tothe Powder, thence down this stream to within forty miles of where oldFort Reno now stands. Farther on, at Crazy Woman's Fork, we sawevidence that another party had joined our quarry. The trail was newlymade. The Indians could be hardly more than twenty-four hours ahead ofus. And plainly there was a lot of them. 

When we reached Clear Creek, another tributary of the Powder, we sawhorses grazing on the opposite bank. Horses meant Indians. Never beforehad the redskins been followed so far into their own country. Notdreaming that they would be pursued they had failed to put out scouts. 

We quickly got the "lay" of their camp, and held a council to decide onhow to attack them. We knew that they outnumbered us three toone--perhaps more. Without strategy, all we would get for our longchase would be the loss of our scalps. 

"Wild Bill, " who did not know the meaning of fear, made our plan forus. We were to wait till nightfall, and then, after creeping up asclose as possible on the camp, make a grand ride right through it, opena general fire upon them, and stampede their horses. 

It was a plan that called for nerve, but we were full of spirit, andthe more danger there was in an enterprise the more we relished it. Atour captain's signal we rushed pell-mell through their camp. Had wedropped from the clouds the Indians could not have been moreastonished. At the sound of our shots they scattered in everydirection, yelling warnings to each other as they fled. 

Once clear of the camp we circled to the south and came back to makesure that we had done a thorough job. A few parting shots stampeded thestragglers. Then, with one hundred captured ponies--most, if not all ofthem, stolen from the Express and State stations--we rode back toSweetwater Bridge. 

The recovered horses were placed on the road again, and the Express wasresumed. Slade, who was greatly pleased with our exploit, now assignedme as special or supernumerary rider. Thereafter while I was with him Ihad a comparatively easy time of it, riding only now and then, andhaving plenty of opportunity for seeking after the new adventures inwhich I delighted. 

Alf Slade, stage-line superintendent, frontiersman, and dare-devilfighting man, was one of the far-famed gunmen of the Plains. These werea race of men bred by the perils and hard conditions of Western life. They became man-killers first from stern necessity. In that day the manwho was not quick on the trigger had little chance with the outlawsamong whom he had to live. Slade and "Wild Bill, " with both of whom Ibecame closely associated, were men of nerve and courage. But both, having earned the reputation of gun-fighters, became too eager to liveup to it. Eventually both became outlaws. 

Slade, though always a dangerous man, and extremely rough in hismanner, never failed to treat me with kindness. Sober, he was cool andself-possessed, but never a man to be trifled with. Drunk, he was aliving fury. His services to the company for which he worked were ofhigh value. He was easily the best superintendent on the line. But hishabit of man-killing at last resulted in his execution. 

Another man who gained even greater notoriety than Slade was "WildBill" Hickock, a tall, yellow-haired giant who had done splendidservice as a scout in the western sector of the Civil War. 

"Wild Bill" I had known since 1857. He and I shared the pleasure ofwalking a thousand miles to the Missouri River, after the bull-train inwhich we both were employed had been burned by Lot Smith, the Mormonraider. Afterward we rode the Pony Express together. 

While an express rider, Bill had the fight with the McCandless gangwhich will always form an interesting chapter in the history of theWest. 

Coming into his swing station at Rock Creek one day, Bill failed toarouse any one with his shouts for a fresh mount. This was a certainindication of trouble. It was the stock-tender's business to be on handwith a relief pony the instant the rider came in. The Pony Express didnot tolerate delays. 

Galloping into the yard, Bill dismounted and hurried to the stable. Inthe door he saw the stock-tender lying dead, and at the same instant awoman's screams rang from the cabin near by. Turning about, Bill foundhimself face to face with a ruffian who was rushing from the house, brandishing a six-shooter. He asked no questions, but pulled one of thetwo guns he carried and fired. No sooner had the man fallen, however, than a second, also armed, came out of the house. Hickock disposed ofthis fellow also, and then entered the place, where four others openeda fusillade on him. 

Although the room was thick with smoke, and Bill had to use extremecare to avoid hitting the woman, who was screaming in the corner, hemanaged to kill two of his assailants with his revolvers and to wardoff a blow with a rifle a third had leveled at him. 

The blow knocked the weapon from his hand, but his knife was still lefthim, and with it he put the man with the rifle out of the way. Histroubles were not at an end, however. Another man came climbing in thewindow to avenge his fellow gangsters. Bill reached for a rifle whichlay on the floor and shot first. 

When he took count a few minutes later he discovered that he had killedfive men and wounded a sixth, who escaped in the thick of the fight. 

The woman, who had been knocked unconscious by one of the desperadoes, was soon revived. She was the stock-tender's wife, and had beenattacked the by gang as soon as they had slain her husband. 

The passengers of the Overland stage, which rolled in as Bill wasreviving the terrified woman, were given a view of Western life whichnone of them ever forgot. 

Bill was the hero of the occasion, and a real hero he was, for probablynever has a man won such a victory against such terrific odds in allthe history of the war against the ruffians of the West. 

It was at Springfield, Missouri, that Bill had his celebrated fightwith Dave Tutt. The fight put an end to Tutt's career. I was a personalwitness to another of his gun exploits, in which, though the chanceswere all against him, he protected his own life and incidentally hismoney. An inveterate poker player, he got into a game in Springfieldwith big players and for high stakes. Sitting by the table, I noticedthat he seemed sleepy and inattentive. So I kept a close watch on theother fellows. Presently I observed that one of his opponents wasoccasionally dropping a card in his hat, which he held in his lap, until a number of cards had been laid away for future use in the game. 

The pot had gone around several times and was steadily raised by someof the players, Bill staying right along, though he still seemed to bedrowsy. 

The bets kept rising. At last the man with the hatful of cards picked ahand out of his reserves, put the hat on his head and raised Bill twohundred dollars. Bill came back with a raise of two hundred, and as theother covered it he quietly shoved a pistol into his face and observed:

"I am calling the hand that is in your hat!"

[Illustration: HE SHOVED A PISTOL IN THE MAN'S FACE AND SAID "I'MCALLING THE HAND THAT'S IN YOUR HAT"]

Gathering in the pot with his left hand, he held the pistol with hisright and inquired if any of the players had any objections to offer. They hastened to reply that they had no objections whatever and we wentaway from there. 

"Bill, " I said, when we were well outside the place, "I had beennoticing that fellow's play right along, but I thought you hadn't. Iwas going to get into the game myself if he beat you out of thatmoney. "

"Billy, " replied Hickock, "I don't want you ever to learn it, but thatis one of my favorite poker tricks. It always wins against crookedplayers. "

Not all of the gunmen of the West began straight. Some of them--many, in fact--were thieves and murderers from the beginning. Such were themembers of the McCandless gang, which Hickock disposed of sothoroughly. All along the stage route were robbers and man-killers farmore vicious than the Indians. Very early in my career as afrontiersman I had an encounter with a party of these from which I wasextremely fortunate to escape with my life. 

I employed the leisure afforded me by my assignment as an extra riderin hunting excursions, in which I took a keen delight. I was returninghome empty-handed from a bear hunt, when night overtook me in a lonelyspot near a mountain stream. I had killed two sage-hens and built alittle fire over which to broil them before my night's rest. 

Suddenly I heard a horse whinny farther up the stream. Thinkinginstantly of Indians, I ran quickly to my own horse to prevent him fromanswering the call, and thus revealing my presence. 

Filled with uneasiness as to who and what my human neighbors might be, I resaddled my horse, and, leaving him tied where I could reach him ina hurry if need be, made my way up-stream to reconnoiter. As I camearound a bend I received an unpleasant shock. Not one horse, butfifteen horses, were grazing just ahead of me. 

On the opposite side of the creek a light shone high up the mountainbank--a light from the window of a dugout. I drew near very cautiouslytill I came within, sound of voices within the place, and discoveredthat its occupants were conversing in my own language. That relievedme. I knew the strangers to be white men. I supposed them to betrappers, and, walking boldly to the door, I knocked. 

Instantly the voices ceased. There ensued absolute silence for a space, and then came-whisperings, and sounds of men quietly moving about thedirt floor. 

"Who's there?" called someone. 

"A friend and a white man, " I replied. 

The door opened, and a big, ugly-looking fellow stood before me. 

"Come in, " he ordered. 

I accepted the invitation with hesitation, but there was nothing elseto do. To retreat would have meant pursuit and probably death. 

Eight of the most villainous-appearing ruffians I have ever set eyesupon sat about the dugout as I entered. Two of them I recognized atonce as teamsters who had been employed by Simpson a few months before. Both had been charged with murdering a ranchman and stealing hishorses. Simpson had promptly discharged them, and it was supposed thatthey had left the country. 

I gave them no sign of recognition. I was laying my plans to get out ofthere as speedily as possible. I was now practically certain that I haduncovered the hiding-place of a gang of horse-thieves who could have nopossible reason to feel anything but hostility toward an honest man. The leader of the gang swaggered toward me and inquired menacingly:

"Where are you going, young man, and who's with you?"

"I am entirely alone, " I returned. "I left Horseshoe Station thismorning for a bear hunt. Not finding any bears, I was going to camp outtill morning. I heard one of your horses whinnying, and came up to yourcamp. "

"Where is your horse?"

"I left him down the creek. "

They proposed going for the horse, which was my only means of gettingrid of their unwelcome society. I tried strategy to forestall them. 

"I'll go and get him, " I said. "I'll leave my gun here. "

This, I fancied, would convince them that I intended to return, but itdidn't. 

"Jim and I will go with you, " said one of the thieves. "You can leaveyour gun here if you want to. You won't need it. "

I saw that if I was to get away at all I would have to be extremelyalert. These were old hands, and were not to be easily fooled. I feltit safer, however, to trust myself with two men than with six, so Ivolunteered to show the precious pair where I had left the horse, andled them to my camp. 

The animal was secured, and as one of the men started to lead him upthe stream I picked up the two sage-hens I had intended for my eveningmeal. The more closely we approached the dugout the less I liked theprospect of reëntering it. One plan of escape had failed. I was surethe ruffians had no intention of permitting me to leave them and informthe stage people of their presence in the country. 

One more plan suggested itself to me, and I lost no time in trying it. Dropping one of the sage-hens, I asked the man behind me to pick it up. As he was groping for it in the darkness, I pulled one of my Colt'srevolvers, and hit him a terrific blow over the head. He dropped to theground, senseless. 

Wheeling about, I saw that the other man, hearing the fall, had turned, his hand upon his revolver. It was no time for argument. I fired andkilled him. Then, leaping on my horse, I dug the spurs into his sides, and back down the trail we went, over the rocks and rough ground towardsafety. 

[Illustration: IT WAS NO TIME FOR ARGUMENT. I FIRED, AND KILLED HIM]

My peril was far from past. At the sound of the shot the six men in thedugout tumbled forth in hot haste. They stopped an instant at the sceneof the shooting, possibly to revive the man I had stunned and to learnfrom him what had happened. 

They were too wise to mount their horses, knowing that, afoot, theycould make better time over the rocky country than I could onhorseback. Steadily I heard them gaining, and soon made up my mind thatif I was to evade them at all I must abandon my horse. 

Jumping off, I gave him a smart slap with the butt of my revolver whichsent him down the valley. I turned and began to scramble up themountainside. 

I had climbed hardly forty feet when I heard them pass, following thesound of my horse's feet. I dodged behind a tree as they went by, andwhen I heard them firing farther down the trail I worked my way up themountainside. 

It was twenty-five miles to Horseshoe Station, and very hard travelingthe first part of the way. But I got to the station, just beforedaylight, weary and footsore, but exceedingly thankful. 

Tired as I was, I woke up the men at the station and told them of myadventure. Slade himself led the party that set out to capture myformer hosts, and I went along, though nearly beat out. 

Twenty of us, after a brisk ride, reached the dugout at ten o'clock inthe morning. But the thieves had gone. We found a newly made gravewhere they had buried the man I had to kill, and a trail leadingsouthwest toward Denver. That was all. But my adventure at leastresulted in clearing the country of horse-thieves. Once the gang hadgone, no more depredations occurred for a long time. 

After a year's absence from home I began to long to see my mother andsisters again. In June, 1861, I got a pass over the stage-line, andreturned to Leavenworth. The first rumblings of the great struggle thatwas soon to be known as the Civil War were already reverberatingthroughout the North; Sumter had been fired upon in April of that year. Kansas, as every schoolboy knows, was previously the bloody scene ofsome of the earliest conflicts. 

My mother's sympathies were strongly with the Union. She knew that warwas bound to come, but so confident was she in the strength of theFederal Government that she devoutly believed that the struggle couldnot last longer than six months at the utmost. 

Fort Leavenworth and the town of Leavenworth were still importantoutfitting posts for the soldiers in the West and Southwest. The fortwas strongly garrisoned by regular troops. Volunteers were undergoingtraining. Many of my boyhood friends were enlisting. I was eager tojoin them. 

But I was still the breadwinner of the family, the sole support of mysisters and my invalid mother. Not because of this, but because of herlove for me, my mother exacted from me a promise that I would notenlist for the war while she lived. 

But during the summer of 1861 a purely local company, know as theRed-Legged Scouts, and commanded by Captain Bill Tuff, was organized. This I felt I could join without breaking my promise not to enlist forthe war, and join it I did. The Red-Legged Scouts, while theycoöperated with the regular army along the borders of Missouri, had fortheir specific duty the protection of Kansas against raiders likeQuantrell, and such bandits as the James Boys, the Younger Brothers, and other desperadoes who conducted a guerrilla warfare against Unionsettlers. 

We had plenty to do. The guerrillas were daring fellows and kept usbusy. They robbed banks, raided villages, burned buildings, and lootedand plundered wherever there was loot or plunder to be had. 

But Tuff was the same kind of a fighting man as they, and working in abetter cause. With his scouts he put the fear of the law into thehearts of the guerrillas, and they notably decreased their depredationsin consequence. 

Whenever and wherever we found that the scattered bands were gettingtogether for a general raid we would at once notify the regulars atFort Scott or Fort Leavenworth to be ready for them. Quantrell oncemanaged to collect a thousand men in a hurry, and to raid and sackLawrence before the troops could head them off. But when we got ontheir trail they were driven speedily back into Missouri. 

In the meantime we took care that little mischief was done by the gangsheaded by the James Boys and the Youngers, who operated in Quantrell'swake and in small bands. 

In the spring of '63 I left the Red-Legged Scouts to serve the FederalGovernment as guide and scout with the Ninth Kansas Cavalry. The Kiowasand Comanches were giving trouble along the old Santa Fe trail andamong the settlements of western Kansas. The Ninth Kansas were sent totame them and to protect immigrants and settlers. 

This was work that I well understood. We had a lively summer, for theIndians kept things stirring, but after a summer of hard fighting wemade them understand that the Great White Chief was a power that theIndians had better not irritate. November, '63, I returned with thecommand to Leavenworth. I had money in my pockets, for my pay had been$150 a month, and I was able to lay in an abundant supply of provisionsfor my family. 

On the twenty-third day of December my mother passed away. Her life hadbeen an extremely hard one, but she had borne up bravely under povertyand privation, supplying with her own teaching the education that thefrontier schools could not give her children, and by her Christianexample setting them all on a straight road through life. 

Border ruffians killed her husband, almost within sight of her home. She passed months in terror and distress and, until I became old enoughto provide for her, often suffered from direst poverty. Yet she nevercomplained for herself; her only thoughts being for her children andthe sufferings that were visited upon them because of their necessaryupbringing in a rough and wild country. 

My sister Julia was now married to Al Goodman, a fine and capable youngman, and I was free to follow the promptings of an adventurous natureand go where my companions were fighting. In January, 1864, the SeventhKansas Volunteers came to Leavenworth from the South, where they hadbeen fighting since the early years of the war. Among them I found manyof my old friends and schoolmates. I was no longer under promise not totake part in the war and I enlisted as a private. 

In March of that year the regiment was embarked on steamboats and sentto Memphis, Tennessee, where we joined the command of General A. J. Smith. General Smith was organizing an army to fight the illiterate butbrilliant Confederate General Forrest, who was then making a great dealof trouble in southern Tennessee. 

While we were mobilizing near Memphis, Colonel Herrick of our regimentrecommended me to General Smith for membership in a picked corps to beused for duty as scouts, messengers, and dispatch carriers. ColonelHerrick recounted my history as a plainsman, which convinced thecommander that I would be useful in this special line of duty. 

When I reported to General Smith, he invited me into his tent andinquired minutely into my life as a scout. 

"You ought to be able to render me valuable service, " he said. 

When I replied that I should be only too glad to do so, he got out amap of Tennessee, and on it showed me where he believed GeneralForrest's command to be located. His best information was that theConfederate commander was then in the neighborhood of Okolona, Mississippi, about two hundred miles south, of Memphis. 

He instructed me to disguise myself as a Tennessee boy, to providemyself with a farm horse from the stock in the camp, and to try tolocate Forrest's main command. Having accomplished this, I was togather all the information possible concerning the enemy's strength inmen and equipment and defenses, and to make my way back as speedily aspossible. 

General Smith expected to start south the following morning, and heshowed me on the map the wagon road he planned to follow, so that Imight know where to find him on my return. He told me before we partedthat the mission on which he was sending me was exceedingly dangerous. "If you are captured, " he said, "you will be shot as a spy. "

To this I replied that my Indian scouting trips had been equallydangerous, as capture meant torture and death, yet I had alwayswillingly undertaken them. 

"Do you think you can find Forrest's army?" he said. "Well, if youcan't find an army as big as that you're a mighty poor scout, " he saidgrimly. 

General Smith then turned me over to the man who was in charge of whatwas called "the refuge herd, " from which I found a mount built on thelines of the average Tennessee farm horse. This man also provided mewith a suit of farmer's clothing, for which I exchanged my new soldieruniform, and a bag of provisions. Leading me about a mile from camp, heleft me with the warning:

"Look out, young fellow. You're taking a dangerous trip. " Then we shookhands and I began my journey. 

I had studied carefully the map General Smith had shown me, and had afairly accurate idea of the direction I was supposed to take. Followinga wagon road that led to the south, I made nearly sixty miles the firstnight. The mare I had chosen proved a good traveler. 

When morning came I saw a big plantation, with the owner's and negroes'houses, just ahead of me. I was anxious to learn how my disguise wasgoing to work, and therefore rode boldly up to the house of theoverseer and asked if I could get rest and some sort of breakfast. 

In response to his inquiries I said I was a Tennesseean and on my wayto Holly Springs. I used my best imitation of the Southern dialect, which I can still use on occasion, and it was perfectly successful. Iwas given breakfast, my mare was fed, and I slept most of the day in ahaystack, taking up my journey again immediately after dinner. 

Thereafter I had confidence in my disguise, and, while making no effortto fall into conversation with people, I did not put myself out toevade anyone whom I met. None of those with whom I talked suspected meof being a Northern spy. 

At the end of a few days I saw that I was near a large body of troops. It was in the morning after a hard day-and-night ride. Fearing toapproach the outposts looking weary and fagged out, I rested for anhour, and then rode up and accosted one of them. To his challenge Isaid I was a country boy, and had come in to see the soldiers. Myfather and brother, I said, were fighting with Forrest, and I wasalmost persuaded to enlist myself. 

My story satisfied the guard and I was passed. A little farther on Iobtained permission to pasture my horse with a herd of animalsbelonging to the Confederates and, afoot, I proceeded to the camp ofthe soldiers. By acting the part of the rural Tennesseean, makinglittle purchases from the negro food-stands, and staring open-mouthedat all the camp life, I picked up a great deal of information withoutonce falling under suspicion. 

The question now uppermost in my mind was how I was going to get away. Toward evening I returned to the pasture, saddled my mare and rode tothe picket line where I had entered. Here, to my dismay, I discoveredthat the outposts had been recently changed. 

But I used the same story that had gained admission for me. In a sacktied to my saddle were the food supplies I had bought from the negroesduring the day. These, I explained to the outposts, were intended aspresents for my mother and sisters back on the farm. They examined thesack, and, finding nothing contraband in it, allowed me to pass. 

I now made all possible speed northward, keeping out of sight of housesand of strangers. On the second day I passed several detachments ofForrest's troops, but my training as a scout enabled me to keep themfrom seeing me. 

Though my mare had proven herself an animal of splendid endurance, Ihad to stop and rest her occasionally. At such times I kept closelyhidden. It was on the second morning after leaving Forrest's commandthat I sighted the advance guard of Smith's army. They halted me when Irode up, and for a time I had more trouble with them than I had hadwith any of Forrest's men. I was not alarmed, however, and when thecaptain told me that he would have to send me to the rear, I surprisedhim by asking to see General Smith. 

"Are you anxious to see a big, fighting general?" he asked inamazement. 

"Yes, " I said. "I hear that General Smith can whip Forrest, and I wouldlike to see any man who can do that. "

Without any promises I was sent to the rear, and presently I noticedGeneral Smith, who, however, failed to recognize me. 

I managed, however, to draw near to him and ask him if I might speak tohim for a moment. 

Believing me to be a Confederate prisoner, he assented, and when I hadsaluted I said:

"General, I am Billy Cody, the man you sent out to the Confederatelines. "

"Report back to your charge, " said the general to the officer who hadme in custody. "I will take care of this man. "

My commander was much pleased with my report, which proved to beextremely accurate and valuable. The disguise he had failed topenetrate did not deceive my comrades of the Ninth Kansas, and when Ipassed them they all called me by name and asked me where I had been. But my news was for my superior officers, and I did not need thewarning Colonel Herrick gave me to keep my mouth shut while among thesoldiers. 

General Smith, to whom I later made a full detailed report, had spokenhighly of my work to Colonel Herrick, who was gratified to know thathis choice of a scout had been justified by results. 

It was not long before the whole command knew of my return, but beyondthe fact that I had been on a scouting expedition, and had brought backinformation much desired by the commander, they knew nothing of myjourney. The next morning, still riding the same mare and still wearingmy Tennessee clothes, I rode out with the entire command in thedirection of Forrest's army. 

Before I had traveled five miles I had been pointed out to the entirecommand, and cheers greeted me on every side. As soon as an opportunityoffered I got word with the general and asked if he had any furtherspecial orders for me. 

"Just keep around, " he said; "I may need you later on. "

"But I am a scout, " I told him, "and the place for a scout is ahead ofthe army, getting information. "

"Go ahead, " he replied, "and if you see anything that I ought to knowabout come back and tell me. "

Delighted to be a scout once more, I made my way forward. The generalhad given orders that I was to be allowed to pass in and out the linesat will, so that I was no longer hampered by the activities of my ownfriends. I had hardly got beyond the sound of the troops when I saw abeautiful plantation house, on the porch of which was a handsome oldlady and her two attractive daughters. 

They were greatly alarmed when I came up, and asked if I didn't knowthat the Yankee army would be along in a few minutes and that my lifewas in peril. All their own men folks, they said, were in hiding in thetimber. 

"Don't you sit here, " begged the old lady, when I had seated myself onthe porch to sip a glass of milk for which I had asked her. "The Yankeetroops will go right through this house. They will break up the pianoand every stick of furniture, and leave the place in ruins. You aresure to be killed or taken prisoner. "

By this time the advance guard was coming up the road. General Smithpassed as I was standing on the porch. I saw that he had noticed me, though he gave no sign of having done so. As more troops passed, menbegan leaving their companies and rushing toward the house. I walkedout and ordered them away in the name of the general. They all knew whoI was, and obeyed, much to the astonishment of the old lady and herdaughter. 

Turning to my hostess, I said:

"Madam, I can't keep them out of your chicken-house or your smoke-houseor your storerooms, but I can keep them out of your home, and I will. "

I remained on the porch till the entire command had passed. Nothing wasmolested. Much pleased, but still puzzled, the old lady was nowconvinced that I was no Tennessee lad, but a sure-enough Yankee, andone with a remarkable amount of influence. When I asked for a littlesomething to eat in return for what I had done, the best there was inthe house was spread before me. 

My hostess urged me to eat as speedily as possible, and be on my way. Her men folks, she said, would soon return from the timber, and if theylearned that I was a Yank would shoot me on the spot. As she wasspeaking the back door was pushed open and three men rushed in. The oldlady leaped between them and me. 

"Don't shoot him!" she cried. "He has protected our property and ourlives. " But the men had no murderous intentions. 

"Give him all he wants to eat, " said the eldest, "and we will see thathe gets back to the Yankee lines in safety. We saw him from thetreetops turn away the Yanks as he stood on the porch. "

While I finished my meal they put all manner of questions to me, beingspecially impressed that a boy so young could have kept a great armyfrom foraging so richly stocked a plantation. I told them that I was aUnion scout, and that I had saved their property on my ownresponsibility. 

"I knew you would be back here, " I said. "But I was sure you wouldn'tshoot me when you learned what I had done. "

"You bet your life we won't!" they said heartily. 

After dinner I was stocked Tip with all the provisions I wanted, andgiven a fine bottle of peach brandy, the product of the plantation. Then the men of the place escorted me to the rear-guard of the command, which I lost no time in joining. When I overtook the general andpresented him with the peach brandy, he said gruffly:

"I hear you kept all the men from foraging on that plantation backyonder. "

"Yes, sir, " I said. "An old lady and her two daughters were alonethere. My mother had suffered from raids of hostile soldiers in Kansas. I tried to protect that old lady, as I would have liked another man toprotect my mother in her distress. I am sorry if I have disobeyed yourorders and I am ready for any punishment you wish to inflict on me. "

"My boy, " said the general, "you may be too good-hearted for a soldier, but you have done just what I would have done. My orders were todestroy all Southern property. But we will forget your violation, ofthem. "

General Smith kept straight on toward Forrest's stronghold. Ten milesfrom the spot where the enemy was encamped, he wheeled to the left andheaded for Tupedo, Mississippi, reaching there at dark. Forrestspeedily discovered that Smith did not intend to attack him on his ownground. So he broke camp, and, coming up to the rear, continued a hotfire through the next afternoon. 

Arriving near Tupedo, General Smith selected, as a battleground, thecrest of a ridge commanding the position Forrest had taken up. Betweenthe two armies lay a plantation of four or five thousand acres. Thenext morning Forrest dismounted some four thousand cavalry, and withcavalry and artillery on his left and right advanced upon our position. 

Straight across the plantation they came, while Smith rode back andforth behind the long breastworks that protected his men, cautioningthem to reserve their fire till it could be made to tell. All our menwere fighting with single shotguns. The first shot, in a close action, had to count, or a second one might never be fired. 

I had been detailed to follow Smith as he rode to and fro. With an eyeto coming out of the battle with a whole skin I had picked out a numberof trees, behind which I proposed to drop my horse when the fightinggot to close quarters. This was the fashion I had always employed inIndian fighting. As the Confederates got within good range, the order"Fire!" rang out. 

At that instant I wheeled my horse behind a big oak tree. Unhappily forme the general was looking directly at me as this maneuver wasexecuted. When we had driven back and defeated Forrest's men I wasordered to report at General Smith's tent. 

"Young man, " said the General, when I stood before him, "you wererecommended to me as an Indian fighter. What were you doing behind thattree!"

"That is the way we have to fight Indians, sir, " I said. "We get behindanything that offers protection. " It was twelve years later that Iconvinced General Smith that my theory of Indian fighting was prettycorrect. 

After the consolidation of the regular army, following the war, Smithwas sent to the Plains as Colonel of the Seventh Cavalry. This wasafterward known as Custer's regiment, and we engaged in the battle ofthe Little Big Horn, in which that gallant commander was slain. Smith'scavalry command was moving southward on an expedition against theKiowas and Comanches in the Canadian River country, when I joined it asa scout. 

Dick Curtis, acting as guide for Smith, had been sent on ahead acrossthe river, while the main command stopped to water their horses. Curtis's orders were to proceed straight ahead for five miles, wherethe troops would camp. He was followed immediately by the advanceguard, Smith and his staff following on. We had proceeded about threemiles when three or four hundred Indians attacked us, jumping out ofgullies and ravines, where they had been securely hidden. General Smithat once ordered the orderlies to sound the recall and retreat, intending to fall back quickly on the main command. 

He was standing close beside a deep ravine as he gave the order. Knowing that the plan he proposed meant the complete annihilation ofour force, I pushed my horse close to him. 

"General, " I said, "order your men into the ravine, dismount, and letnumber fours hold horses. Then you will be able to stand off theIndians. If you try to retreat to the main command you and every manunder you will be killed before you have retreated a mile. "

He immediately saw the sense of my advice. Issuing orders to enter theravine, he dismounted with his men behind the bank. There we stood offthe Indians till the soldiers in the rear, hearing the shots, camecharging to the rescue and drove the Indians away. The rapidity withwhich we got into the ravine, and the protection its banks afforded us, enabled us to get away without losing a man. Had the general's originalplan been carried out none of us would have come away to tell thestory. I was summoned to the general's tent that evening. 

"That was a brilliant suggestion of yours, young man, " he said. "ThisIndian fighting is a new business to me. I realize that if I hadcarried out my first order not a man of us would ever have reached thecommand alive. "

I said: "General, do you remember the battle of Tupedo?"

"I do, " he said, with his chest expanding a little. "I was in commandat that battle. " The whipping of Forrest had been a particularlydifficult and unusual feat, and General Smith never failed to show hispride in the achievement whenever the battle of Tupedo was mentioned. 

"Do you remember, " I continued, "the young fellow you caught behind atree, and sent for him afterward to ask him why he did so?"

"Is it possible you are the man who found Forrest's command!" he askedin amazement. "I had often wondered what became of you, " he said, whenI told him I was the same man. "What have you been doing since thewar!"

I told him I had come West as a scout for General Sherman in 1865 andhad been scouting ever since. He was highly delighted to see me again, and from that time forward, as long as he remained on the Plains, Iresumed my old position as his chief scout. 

After the battle of Tupedo, Smith's command was ordered to Memphis, andfrom there sent by boat up the Mississippi. We of the cavalrydisembarked at Cape Jardo, Smith remaining behind with the infantry, which came on later. General Sterling Price, of the Confederate army, was at this time coming out of Arkansas into southern Missouri with alarge army. His purpose was to invade Kansas. 

Federal troops were not then plentiful in the West. Smith's army fromTennessee, Blunt's troops from Kansas, what few regulars there were inMissouri, and some detachments of Kansas volunteers were all beingmoved forward to head off Price. Being still a member of the NinthKansas Cavalry, I now found myself back in my old country--just aheadof Price's army, which had now reached the fertile northwesternMissouri. 

In carrying dispatches from General McNeil to General Blunt or GeneralPleasanton I passed around and through Price's army many times. Ialways wore the disguise of a Confederate soldier, and always escapeddetection. Price fought hard and successfully, gaining ground steadily, till at Westport, Missouri, and other battlefields near the Kansasline, the Federal troops checked his advance. 

At the Little Blue, a stream that runs through what is now Kansas City, he was finally turned south, and took up a course through southernKansas. 

Near Mound City a scouting party of which I was a member surprised asmall detachment of Price's army. Our advantage was such that theysurrendered, and while we were rounding them up I heard one of them saythat we Yanks had captured a bigger prize than we suspected. When hewas asked what this prize consisted of, the soldier said:

"That big man over yonder is General Marmaduke of the Southern army. "

I had heard much of Marmaduke and greatly admired his dash and abilityas a fighting man. Going over to him, I asked if there was anything Icould do to make him comfortable. He said that I could. He hadn't had abite to eat, and he wanted some food and wanted it right away. 

He was surrounding a good lunch I had in my saddle-bag, while I wasransacking the saddle-bag of a comrade for a bottle of whisky which Iknew to be there. 

When we turned our prisoners over to the main command I was put incharge of General Marmaduke and accompanied him as his custodian toFort Leavenworth. The general and I became fast friends, and ourfriendship lasted long after the war. Years after he had finished histerm as Governor of Missouri he visited me in London, where I wasgiving my Wild West Show. He was talking with me in my tent one daywhen the Earl of Lonsdale and Lord Harrington rode up, dismounted, andcame over to where we were sitting. 

I presented Marmaduke to them as the governor of one of America'sgreatest States and a famous Confederate general. Lonsdale, approachingand extending his hand, smiled and said:

"Ah, Colonel Cody, another one of your Yankee friends, eh?"

Marmaduke, who had risen, scowled. But he held out his hand. "Lookhere, " he said, "I am much pleased to meet you, sir, but I want youfirst to understand distinctly that I am no Yank. "

When I left General Marmaduke at Leavenworth and returned to mycommand, Price was already in retreat. After driving him across theArkansas River I returned with my troop to Springfield, Missouri. Fromthere I went, under General McNeil, to Fort Smith and other places onthe Arkansas border, where he had several lively skirmishes, and onebig and serious engagement before the war was ended. 

The spring of 1865 found us again in Springfield, where we remainedabout two months, recuperating and replenishing our stock. I now got afurlough of thirty days and went to St. Louis, where I invested part ofa thousand dollars I had saved in fashionable clothes and in rooms atone of the best hotels. It was while there that I met a young lady of aSouthern family, to whom I paid a great deal of attention, and fromwhom I finally extracted a promise that if I would come back to St. Louis at the end of the war she would marry me. 

On my return to Springfield I found an expedition in process of fittingout for a scouting trip through New Mexico and into the Arkansas Rivercountry, to look after the Indians. With this party I took part in anumber of Indian fights and helped to save a number of immigrant trainsfrom destruction. On our return to Fort Leavenworth we found GeneralSanborn and a number of others of the former Union leaders who had cometo the border to make peace with the Indians. 

The various tribes that roamed the Plains had heard of the great war, and, believing that it had so exhausted the white man that he wouldfall an easy prey to Indian aggression, had begun to arm themselves andmake ready for great conquests. They had obtained great stores of armsand ammunition. During the last two years of the war they had beenmaking repeated raids and inflicting vast damage on the settlers. 

At the close of the war, when the volunteers were discharged, I wasleft free to return to my old calling. The regular army was in courseof consolidation. Men who had been generals were compelled to serve ascolonels and majors. The consolidated army's chief business was in theWest, where the Indians formed a real menace, and to the West came thefamous fighting men under whose command I was destined to spend many ofthe eventful years to come. 

CHAPTER III

At the close of the war, General William Tecumseh Sherman was placed atthe head of the Peace Commission which had been sent to the border totake counsel with the Indians. It had become necessary to put an end tothe hostility of the red man immediately either by treaty or by force. His raids on the settlers could be endured no longer. 

The purpose of the party which Sherman headed was to confer with thegreatest of the hostile chiefs. Treaties were to be agreed upon ifpossible. If negotiations for peace failed, the council would at leastact as a stay of hostilities. The army was rapidly reorganizing, and itwould soon be possible to mobilize enough troops to put down theIndians in case they refused to come to terms peaceably. 

The camp of the Kiowas and Comanches--the first Indians with whomSherman meant to deal--was about three hundred miles southwest ofLeavenworth, in the great buffalo range, and in the midst of thetrackless Plains. 

By ambulance and on horseback, with wagons to carry the supplies, theparty set out for its first objective--Council Springs on the ArkansasRiver, about sixty miles beyond old Fort Zarrah. 

I was chosen as one of the scouts or dispatch carriers to accompany theparty. The guide was Dick Curtis, a plainsman of wide experience amongthe Indians. 

When we arrived at Fort Zarrah we found that no road lay beyond, andlearned that there was no water on the way. It was determined, therefore, to make a start at two o'clock in the morning. Curtis saidthis would enable us to reach our destination, sixty-five miles furtheron, by two o'clock the next afternoon. 

The outfit consisted of two ambulances and one Government wagon, whichcarried the tents and supplies. Each officer had a horse to ride if hechose. If he preferred to ride in the ambulance his orderly was on handto lead his horse for him. 

We traveled steadily till ten o'clock in the morning, through herds ofbuffalo whose numbers were past counting. I remember that GeneralSherman estimated that the number of buffalo on the Plains at that timemust have been more than eleven million. It required all the energy ofthe soldiers and scouts to keep a road cleared through the herds sothat the ambulance might pass. 

We breakfasted during the morning stop and rested the horses. For themen there was plenty of water, which we had brought along in canteensand camp kettles. There was also a little for the animals, enough tokeep them from suffering on the way. 

Two o'clock found us still making our way through the buffalo herds, but with no Council Springs in sight. Curtis was on ahead, and one ofthe lieutenants, feeling a little nervous, rode up to another of thescouts. 

"How far are we from the Springs?" he inquired. 

"I don't know, " said the guide uneasily. "I never was over here before, but if any one knows where the Springs are that young fellow over theredoes. " He pointed to me. 

"When will we get to the Springs?" asked the officer, turning in mydirection. 

"Never--if we keep on going the way we are now, " I said. 

"Why don't you tell the General that?" he demanded. 

I said that Curtis was the guide, not I; whereupon he dropped backalongside the ambulance in which Sherman was riding and reported whathad happened. 

The General instantly called a halt and sent for the scouts. When allof us, including Curtis, had gathered round him he got out of theambulance, and, pulling out a map, directed Curtis to locate theSprings on it. 

"There has never been a survey made of this country, General, " saidCurtis. "None of these maps are correct. "

"I know that myself, " said Sherman. "How far are we from the Springs?"

The guide hesitated. "I have never been there but once, " he said, "andthen I was with a big party of Indians who did the guiding. " He addedthat on a perfectly flat country, dotted with buffalo, he could notpositively locate our destination. Unless we were sighted and guided byIndians we would have to chance it. 

Sherman swung round on the rest of us. "Do any of you know where theSprings are?" he asked, looking directly at me. 

"Yes, sir, " I said, "I do. "

"How do you know, Billy?" asked Curtis. 

"I used to come over here with Charley Bath, the Indian trader, " Isaid. 

"Where are we now?" asked Sherman. 

"About twelve miles from the Springs. They are due south. "

"Due south! And we are traveling due west!"

"Yes, sir, " I replied, "but if Mr. Curtis had not turned in a fewminutes I was going to tell you. "

So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and we became fast friends. Heasked me all manner of questions on the way, and I found that he knewmy father well, and remembered his tragic death in Salt Creek Valley. He asked what had become of the rest of the family and all about mycareer. By the end of the ride I had told him my life history. 

As we were riding along together, with the outfit following on, Inoticed pony tracks from time to time, and knew that we were nearingthe Springs. Presently I said:

"General, we are going to find Indians at the Springs when we reachthere. "

"How do you know?"

"We have been riding where ponies have been grazing for the last mile. "

"I haven't seen any tracks, " said the General in surprise. "Show meone. "

I jumped off my horse, and, thrusting the buffalo grass aside, Ipointed out many tracks of barefooted ponies. "When we rise thatridge, " I told him, "we shall see the village, and thousands of poniesand Indian lodges. "

In a very few minutes this prophecy came true. Curtis and the otherscouts with the officers rode up quickly behind us, and we all had afine view of this wonderful sight of the desert--a great Indian camp. As we stood gazing at the spectacle we observed great excitement in thevillage. Warriors by the dozens were leaping on their horses and ridingtoward us, till at least a thousand of them were in the "receivingline. "

"It looks to me as if we had better fall into position, " said Sherman. 

"It is not necessary, " I said. "They have given us the peace sign. Theyare coming toward us without arms. "

So Sherman, with General Harney, General Sanborn, and the otherofficers rode slowly forward to meet the oncoming braves. 

"This is where you need Curtis, " I told the General as he advanced. "Heis the best Kiowa and Comanche interpreter on the Plains and he knowsevery one of these Indians personally. "

Curtis was accordingly summoned and made interpreter, while I wasassigned to remain about the commander's tent and given charge of thescouts. 

As the Indians drew near with signs of friendliness, Curtis introducedthe chiefs, Satanta, Lone Wolf, Kicking Bird, and others to GeneralSherman as the head of the Peace Commission. 

The Indians, having been notified in advance of the coming of theCommission, had already selected a special spring for our camp and hadprepared a great feast in honor of the meeting. To this feast, whichwas spread in the center of the village, the Commissioners wereconducted, while the scouts and the escort went into camp. 

The Indians had erected a great canopy of tanned buffalo skins on tepeepoles. Underneath were robes for seats for the General and his staff, and thither they were led with great ceremony. Near by was a great fireon which, buffalo, antelope, and other animals were roasting. Evencoffee and sugar had been provided, and the feast was served with tinplates for the meat and tin cups for the coffee. Another tribute to thecustoms of the guests was a complete outfit of knives and forks. Napkins, however, appeared to be lacking. 

Indian girls, dressed in elaborate costumes, served the repast, theelder women preparing the food. Looking on, it seemed to me to be themost beautiful sight I had ever seen--the grim old generals, who forthe last four and a half years had been fighting a great war sittingserenely and contentedly down to meat and drink with the chiefs of awild, and, till lately, a hostile race. 

After all had eaten, the great chief, Satanta, loaded the bigpeace-pipe, whose bowl was hewn from red stone, with a beautifullycarved stem eighteen inches long. The pipe was passed from mouth tomouth around the circle. After the smoke was ended Satanta raised histowering bulk above the banqueters. He drew his red blanket around hisbroad shoulders, leaving his naked right arm free, for without hisright arm an Indian is deprived of his real powers of oratory. Makingsigns to illustrate his every sentence, he spoke:

"My great white brothers, I welcome you to my camp and to my people. You can rest in safety, without a thought of fear, because our heartsare now good to you--because we hope that the words you are going tospeak to us will make us glad that you have come. We know that you havecome a long way to see us. We feel that you are going to give us orsend us presents which will gladden the hearts of all my people. 

"I know that you must be very tired, and as I see that your tents arepitched it would make our hearts glad to walk over to your village withyou, where you can rest and sleep well, and we hope that you will dreamof the many good things are going to send us and tell us when yourested. 

"I have sent to your tents the choicest of young buffalo, deer, andantelope, and if there is anything else in my camp which will make yourhearts glad I will be pleased to send it to you. If any of your horsesshould stray away, my young men will bring them back to you. "

As the old chief concluded, General Sherman, rising, shook his hand andsaid:

"My red brother, your beautiful and romantic reception has deeplytouched the hearts of my friends and myself. We most heartily thank youfor it. When we are rested, and after we have slept in your wildprairie city, we should like to hold a council with the chiefs andwarriors congregated here. "

When the officers returned to their own camp they agreed that the feastwas very grand, that the Indian maidens who served it were very prettyin their gay costumes and beautiful moccasins. Most of them, however, had observed that the hands of the squaws who did the cooking looked asif they had not touched water for several months. It stuck in thememory of some of the guests that, in their efforts to clean thetinware, the squaws had left more soap in the corners than wasnecessary. The coffee had a strong flavor of soap. 

"If we are going to have a banquet every day, " said one officer, "Ithink I'll do my eating in our own camp. "

[Illustration: CHIEF SATANTA PASSED THE PEACE-PIPE TO GENERAL SHERMANAND SAID: "MY GREAT WHITE BROTHERS"]

General Sherman reminded him that this would be highly impolite to thehosts, and ordered them, as soldiers, to make the best of theentertainment and to line up for mess when the Indians made a feast. 

At ten o'clock the next morning the first session of the great councilwas held. For three days the white chiefs and the red chiefs sat in acircle under the canopy, and many promises of friendship were made bythe Indians. When the council was concluded, General Sherman sent forme. 

"Billy, " he said, "I want you to send two good men to Fort Ellsworthwith dispatches, where they can be forwarded to Fort Riley, the end ofthe telegraph line. After your men are rested they can return to FortZarrah and join us. " When the two men were instructed by the Generaland were on their way, he took me into his tent. 

"I want to go to Bent's Fort on the Arkansas River, " he said, "then toFort St. Barine, on the Platte, and then to Laramie; after that we willgo to Cottonwood Springs, then to Fort Kearney and then to Leavenworth. Can you guide me on that trip?"

I told him that I could, and was made guide, chief of scouts, andmaster of transportation, acting with an army officer as quartermaster. 

At Bent's Fort another council of two days was held with the Indians. The journey homeward was made without difficulty. At Leavenworth I tookleave of one of the noblest and kindest-hearted men I have ever known. In bidding me good-by, General Sherman said:

"I don't think these councils we have held will amount to much. Therewas no sincerity in the Indians' promises. I will see that the promiseswe made to them are carried out to the letter, but when the grass growsin the spring they will be, as usual, on the warpath. As soon as theregular army is organized it will have to be sent out here on theborder to quell fresh Indian uprisings, because these Indians will giveus no peace till they are thoroughly thrashed. "

The General thanked me for my services, and told me he was very luckyto find me. "It is not possible that I will be with the troops whenthey come, " he said. "They will be commanded by General PhilipSheridan. You will like Sheridan. He is your kind of a man. I will tellhim about you when I see him. I expect to hear great reports of youwhen you are guiding the United States army over the Plains, as youhave so faithfully guided me. The quartermaster has instructions to payyou at the rate of $150 a month, and as a special reward I have orderedthat you be paid $2000 extra. Good-by! I know you will have good luck, for you know your business. "

After the departure of General Sherman I made a brief visit to mysisters in Salt Creek Valley, and for a time, there being no scoutingwork to do, drove stage between Plum Creek and Fort Kearney. 

I was still corresponding with Miss Frederici, the girl I had leftbehind me in St. Louis. My future seemed now secure, so I decided thatit was high time I married and settled down, if a scout can ever settledown. So, surrendering my stage job, I returned to Leavenworth andembarked for St. Louis by boat. After a week's visit at the home of myfiancée we were quietly married at her home. I made, I suppose, rathera wild-looking groom. My brown hair hung down over my shoulders, and Ihad just started a little mustache and goatee. I was dressed in theWestern fashion, and my appearance was, to say the least, unusual. Wewere married at eleven o'clock in the morning, and took the steamer_Morning Star_ at two in the afternoon for our honeymoon journey home. 

As we left our carriages and entered the steamer, my wife's father andmother and a number of friends accompanying us, I noticed that I wasattracting considerable excited attention. A number of people, men andwomen, were on the deck. As we passed I heard them whispering:

"There he is! That's him! I'd know him in the dark!"

It was very plain to me that these observations were not particularlyfriendly. The glares cast at me were openly hostile. While we weredisposing our baggage in our stateroom--I had hired the bridalchamber--I heard some of my wife's friends asking her father if he knewwho I was, and whether I had any credentials. He replied that he hadleft the matter of credentials to his daughter. 

"Well, " said one of the party, "these people on board are excursionistsfrom Independence, and they say this son-in-law of yours is the mostdesperate outlaw, bandit, and house-burner on the frontier!"

The old gentleman was considerably disturbed at this report. He made uphis mind to get a little first-hand information, and he took the mostdirect means of getting it. 

"Who are you?" he asked, walking over to me. "The people on board don'tgive you a very good recommendation. "

"Kindly remember, " I replied, "that we have had a little war for thepast five years on the border. These people were on one side and I onthe other, and it is natural that they shouldn't think very highly ofme. "

My argument was not convincing. "I am going to take my daughter homeagain, " said my father-in-law, and started toward the stateroom. 

I besought him to leave the decision to her, and for the next tenminutes I pleaded my case with all the eloquence I could command. I wastalking against odds, for my wife, as well as her parents' friends, were all ardent Southerners, and I am proud to say that after fiftyyears of married life, she is still as strongly "Secesh" as ever. Butwhen I put the case to her she said gamely that she had taken me forbetter or for worse and intended to stick to me. 

She was in tears when she said good-by to her parents and friends, andstill in tears after they had left. I tried to comfort her withassurances that when we came among Northern people I would not beregarded as such a desperate character, but my consolation was oflittle avail. At dinner the hostile stares that were bent on me fromour neighbors at table did not serve to reassure her. It was somecomfort to me afterward when the captain sent for me and told me thathe knew me, that my Uncle Elijah was his old-time friend, and one ofthe most extensive shippers on the steamboat line. "It is shameful theway these people are treating you, " he said, "but let it pass, and whenwe get to Independence everything will be all right. "

But everything was not all right. In the evening, when I led my wifeout on the floor of the cabin, where the passengers were dancing, everydancer immediately walked off the floor, the men scowling and the womenwith their noses in the air. All that night my wife wept while I walkedthe floor. 

At daybreak, when we stopped for wood, I heard shots and shouting. Walking out on deck, I saw the freed negroes who composed the crewscrambling back on board. The steamboat was backing out in the stream. Later I learned that my fellow passengers had wired up the river that Iwas on board, and an armed party had ridden down to "get" me. 

I quickly returned to the stateroom, and, diving into my trunk, tookout and buckled on a brace of revolvers which had done excellentservice in times past. This action promptly confirmed my wife'ssuspicions. She was now certain that I was the bandit I had beenaccused of being. I had no time to reason with her now. Throwing mycoat back, so that I rested my hands on the butts of my revolvers, Istrolled out through the crowd. 

One or two men who had been doing a great deal of loud talking a fewminutes past backed away, as I walked past and looked them squarely inthe eyes. Nothing more was said, and soon I reached the steward'soffice, unmolested. Here I found a number of men dressed in blueuniforms. They told me they were discharged members of the EighthIndiana Volunteers. They were traveling to Kansas, steerage, savingtheir money so they might have it to invest in homes when they reachedtheir destination. They had all heard of me, and now proposed to armand defend me should there be any further hostile demonstrations. Igladly welcomed their support, more for my wife's sake than for my own. 

"My wife, " I said, "firmly believes that I am an outlaw. "

"You can't blame her, " said the spokesman of the party, "after what hashappened. But wait till she gets among Union people and she will learnher mistake. We know your history, and of your recent services toGeneral Sherman. We know that old 'Pap' Sherman wouldn't have anoutlaw in his service. If you had seen some of the interviews he hasgiven out about your wife's father and his friends there would havebeen trouble at the start. "

My new-found friends did not do things by halves. In order to be ableto give a ball in the cabin they exchanged their steerage tickets forfirst-class passage. That night the ball was given, with my wife andmyself as the guests of honor. 

The Independence crowd, observing the preparations for the ball, demanded that the captain stop at the first town and let them off. Theysaw that the tide had turned, and were apprehensive of reprisals. Thecaptain told them that if they should behave like ladies and gentlemenall would be well. 

That night they stood outside looking in while my wife, now quitereassured, was introduced to the ladies and gentlemen from Indiana, anddanced till she was weary. 

We looked for trouble when we reached Independence the next day. Therewas a bigger crowd than usual on the levee, but when it was seen thatmy Yankee friends had their Spencer carbines with them all was quiet. As we pulled out the old captain called me outside. 

"Cody, it is all over now, " he said. "But don't you think you were theonly restless man on board. When I backed out into the river the othernight I had to leave four of my best deckhands either dead or woundedon the bank. I will never forget the way you walked out through thecrowd with that pair of guns in your hand. I have heard of theexecution these weapons can do when they get in action. "

When we stopped at Kansas City I telegraphed to Leavenworth that wewere coming. As the boat approached the Leavenworth levee my soldierfriends were out on deck in their dress uniforms, and I stood on thedeck, my bride on my arm. Soon we heard the music of the FortLeavenworth band and the town band, and crowds of citizens were on thewharf as the boat tied up. 

The commandant of the fort, D. R. Anthony, the Mayor of Leavenworth, mysisters, and hundreds of my friends came rushing aboard the boat togreet us. That night we were given a big banquet to which my soldierchums and their wives were invited. My wife had a glorious time. Afterit was all over, she put her arms about my neck and cried:

"Willy, I don't believe you are an outlaw at all!"

I had reluctantly promised my wife that I would abandon the Plains. Itwas necessary to make a living, so I rented a hotel in Salt CreekValley, the same hotel my mother had formerly conducted, and set up asa landlord. 

It was a typical frontier hotel, patronized by people going to and fromthe Plains, and it took considerable tact and diplomacy to conduct itsuccessfully. I called the place "The Golden-Rule House, " and tried toconduct it on that principle. I seemed to have the qualificationsnecessary, but for a man who had lived my kind of life it proved a tameemployment. I found myself sighing once more for the freedom of thePlains. Incidentally I felt sure I could make money as a plainsman, and, now that I had a wife to support, money had become a veryimportant consideration. 

I sold out the Golden-Rule House and set out alone for Saline, Kansas, which was then at the end of construction of the Kansas PacificRailway. On my way I stopped at Junction City, were I again met my oldfriend, Wild Bill, who was scouting for the Government, withheadquarters at Fort Ellsworth, afterward called Fort Harker. He toldme more scouts were needed at the Post, and I accompanied him to thefort, where I had no difficulty in securing employment. 

During the winter of 1866-67 I scouted between Fort Ellsworth and FortFletcher. I was at Fort Fletcher in the spring of 1867 when GeneralCuster came out to accompany General Hancock on an Indian expedition. Iremained here till the post was flooded by a great rise of Big Creek, on which it was located. The water overflowed the fortifications, rendering the place unfit for further occupancy, and it was abandonedby the Government. The troops were removed to Fort Hays, a new post, located farther west, on the south fork of Big Creek. It was while Iwas at Fort Hays that I had my first ride with the dashing Custer. Hehad come up from Ellsworth with an escort of only ten men, and wanted aguide to pilot him to Fort Larned, sixty-five miles distant. 

When Custer learned that I was at the Post he asked that I be assignedto duty with him. I reported to him at daylight the next day--none tooearly, as Custer, with his staff and orderlies, was already in thesaddle. When I was introduced to Custer he glanced disapprovingly atthe mule I was riding. 

"I am glad to meet you, Cody, " he said. "General Sherman has told meabout you. But I am in a hurry, and I am sorry to see you riding thatmule. "

"General, " I returned, "that is one of the best horses at the fort. "

"It isn't a horse at all, " he said, "but if it's the best you've got weshall have to start. "

We rode side by side as we left the fort. My mule had a fast walk, which kept the general's horse most of the time in a half-trot. 

His animal was a fine Kentucky thoroughbred, but for the kind of workat hand I had full confidence in my mount. Whenever Custer was notlooking I slyly spurred the mule ahead, and when he would start forwardI would rein him in and pat him by way of restraint, bidding him not tobe too fractious, as we hadn't yet reached the sandhills. In this way Iset a good lively pace--something like nine miles an hour--all morning. 

At Smoky Hill River we rested our animals. Then the general, who wasimpatient to be off, ordered a fresh start. I told him we had stillforty miles of sandhills to cross, and advised an easier gait. 

"I have no time to waste on the road, " he said. "I want to push rightahead. "

Push right ahead we did. I continued quietly spurring my mule and thencounseling the brute to take it easy. Presently I noticed that theescort was stringing out far behind, as their horses became winded withthe hard pace through the sand. Custer, looking back, noticed the samething. 

"I think we are setting too fast a pace for them, Cody, " he said, butwhen I replied that I thought this was merely the usual pace for mymule and that I supposed he was in a hurry he made no further comment. 

Several times during the next forty miles we had to stop to wait forthe escort to close up. Their horses, sweating and panting, had reachedalmost the limit of their endurance. I continued patting my animal andordering him to quiet down, and Custer at length said:

"You seem to be putting it over me a little today. "

When we reached a high ridge overlooking Pawnee Fork we again waitedfor our lagging escort. As we waited I said:

"If you want to send a dispatch to the officer in command at FortLarned, I will be pleased to take it down for you. You can follow thisridge till you come to the creek and then follow the valley right downto the fort. "

Custer swung around to the captain, who had just ridden up, andrepeated to him my instructions as to how to reach the fort. "I shallride ahead with Cody, " he added. "Now, Cody, I am ready for you andthat mouse-colored mule. "

The pace I set for General Custer from that time forward was "somegoing. " When we rode up to the quarters of Captain Daingerfield Parker, commandant of the post, General Custer dismounted, and his horse wasled off to the stables by an orderly, while I went to the scouts'quarters. I was personally sure that my mule was well cared for, and hewas fresh as a daisy the next morning. 

After an early breakfast I groomed and saddled my mule, and, ridingdown to the general's quarters, waited for him to appear. I saluted ashe came out, and said that if he had any further orders I was ready tocarry them out. 

"I am not feeling very pleasant this morning, Cody, " he said. "My horsedied during the night. "

I said I was very sorry his animal got into too fast a class the daybefore. 

"Well, " he replied, "hereafter I will have nothing to say against amule. We will meet again on the Plains. I shall try to have youdetailed as my guide, and then we will have time to talk over thatrace. "

A few days after my return to Fort Hays the Indians made a raid on theKansas Pacific Railroad, killing five or six men and running off ahundred or more horses and mules. The news was brought to thecommanding officer, who immediately ordered Major Arms, of the TenthCavalry, to go in pursuit of the raiders. The Tenth Cavalry was a negroregiment. Arms took a company, with one mountain howitzer, and I wassent along as scout. 

On the second day out we discovered a large party of Indians on theopposite side of the Saline River, and about a mile distant. The partywas charging down on us and there was no time to lose. Arms placed hishowitzer on a little knoll, limbered it up, and left twenty men toguard it. Then, with the rest of the command, he crossed the river tomeet the redskins. 

Just as he had got his men across the stream we heard a terrificshouting. Looking back toward the knoll where the gun had been left, wesaw our negro gun-guard flying toward us, pursued by more than ahundred Indians. More Indians were dancing about the gun, although theyhad not the slightest notion what to do with it. 

Arms turned back with his command and drove the redskins from theiruseless prize. The men dismounted and took up a position there. 

A very lively fight followed. Five or six men, including Major Arms, were wounded, and a number of the horses were shot. As the fightproceeded, the enemy seemed to become steadily more numerous. It wasapparent that reinforcements were arriving from some large party in therear. 

The negro troops, who had been boasting of what they would do to theIndians, were now singing a different tune. 

"We'll jes' blow 'em off'm de fahm, " they had said, before there was anenemy in sight. Now, every time the foe would charge us, some of thedarkies would cry:

"Heah dey come! De whole country is alive wif 'em. Dere must be tenthousand ob dem. Massa Bill, does you-all reckon we is ebber gwine toget out o' heah?"

The major, who had been lying under the cannon since receiving hiswound, asked me if I thought there was a chance to get back to thefort. I replied that there was, and orders were given for a retreat, the cannon being left behind. 

During the movement a number of our men were killed by the deadly fireof the Indians. But night fell, and in the darkness we made fairly goodheadway, arriving at Fort Hays just at daybreak. During our absencecholera had broken out at the post. Five or six men were dying daily. For the men there was a choice of dangers--going out to fight theIndians on the prairie, or remaining in camp to be stricken withcholera. To most of us the former was decidedly the more inviting. 

"The Rise and Fall of Modern Rome"--was the chapter of frontier historyin which I next figured. For a time I was part owner of a town, and onmy way to fortune. And then one of those quick changes that markWestern history in the making occurred and I was left--but I will tellyou the story. 

At the town of Ellsworth, which I visited one day while carryingdispatches to Fort Harker, I met William Rose, who had a contract fortrading on the right-of-way of the Kansas Pacific near Fort Hays. Hisstock had been stolen by the Indians, and he had come to Ellsworth tobuy more. 

Rose was enthusiastic about a project for laying out a town site on thewest side of Big Creek, a mile from the fort, where the railroad was tocross. When, in response to a request for my opinion, I told him Ithought the scheme a big one, he invited me to come in as a partner. Hesuggested that after the town was laid out and opened to the public weestablish a store and saloon. 

I thought it would be a grand thing to become half owner of a town, andat once accepted the proposition. We hired a railroad engineer tosurvey the town site and stake it into lots. Also we ordered a bigstock of the goods usually kept in a general merchandise store on thefrontier. This done, we gave the town the ancient and historical nameof Rome. As a starter we donated lots to anyone who would build onthem, reserving for ourselves the corner lots and others which werebest located. These reserved lots we valued at two hundred and fiftydollars each. 

When the town was laid out I wrote my wife that I was worth $250, 000, and told her I wanted her to get ready to come to Ellsworth by rail. She was then visiting her parents at St. Louis, with our baby daughterwhom we had named Arta. 

I was at Ellsworth to meet her when she arrived, bringing the baby. Besides three or four wagons, in which the supplies for the new generalstore and furniture for the little house I had built were loaded, I hada carriage for her and the baby. The new town of Rome was a hundredmiles west. I knew that it would be a dangerous trip, as the Indianshad long been troublesome along the railroad, and I realized the dangermore fully because of the presence of my wife and little daughter. 

A number of immigrants bound for the new town accompanied us. 

The first night out I formed the men into a company, one squad to standwatch while the others slept. All the early part of the evening I wentthe rounds of the camp, much to my wife's annoyance. 

"Why are you away so much?" she kept asking. "It is lonesome here, andI need you. "

Rather than let her know of my uneasiness about the Indians, I told herI was trying to sell lots to the men while they were en route. As thenight wore on and everything seemed quiet I prepared to get a littlerest. I did not take my clothes off, and, much to my wife's surprise, slept with my rifle and revolvers close by me. I had just dropped offto sleep when I heard shots, and knew they could mean nothing butIndians. 

The attacking party was small and we were fully prepared. When theydiscovered this they fired a few shots and galloped away. 

The second night was almost a repetition of the first. After anotherparty had been repulsed, Mrs. Cody asked me if I had brought her andthe baby out on the Plains to be killed. 

"This is the kind of a life I lead every day and get fat on it, " Isaid. But she did not seem to think it especially congenial. 

Everybody turned out to greet us when we arrived in Rome. Even thegambling-hall houses and the dance-halls closed in our honor. The nextday we moved into our little house. That night there was a veritablefusillade of revolver shots outside the window. 

"What is that?" asked Mrs. Cody. 

"Just a serenade, " I said. 

"Are yon firing blank cartridges?"

"No. If it became known that revolvers were loaded with blankcartridges around here we would soon lose some of our most valuedcitizens. Everybody in town, from the police judge to dishwashers, carries a pistol. "

"Why?"

"To keep law and order. "

That puzzled my wife. She said that in St. Louis policemen kept law andorder, and wanted to know why we didn't have them to do it out here. Iinformed her that a policeman would not last very long in a town likethis, which was perfectly true. 

On my return from a hunting trip a few days later I met a man who hadcome into town on the stage-coach, and whom Mrs. Cody had seen lookingover the town site from every possible angle. He told me he thought Ihad selected a good town site--and I agreed with him. He asked me to gofor a ride around the surrounding country with him the next day. I toldhim I was going on a buffalo hunt. He had never killed a buffalo, hesaid. He wanted to get a fine head to take back with him, and would begrateful if I would take him with me. I promised to see that he got anice head if he came along, and early the next morning rode down to hishotel. He was dressed in a smart hunting costume and had his rifle. Westarted for the plains, my wagons following to gather up the meat weshould kill. 

As we rode out I explained to him how I hunted. "I kill as many buffaloas I want, " I said. "This I call a 'run. ' The wagons come alongafterward and the butchers cut the meat and load it. " When I went outon my "run" I told him where to shoot to kill. But when my work wasdone I met him coming back crestfallen. He had failed to get hisbuffalo down, although he had shot him three times. 

"Come along with me, " I said. "I see another herd over there. I amgoing to change saddles with you and let you ride the best buffalohorse on the Plains. "

He was astonished and delighted to think I would let him ride Brigham, the most famous buffalo horse in the West. When we drew near the herd Ipointed out a fine four-year-old bull with a splendid head. I gallopedalongside. Brigham spotted the buffalo I wanted, and after mycompanion's third shot the brute fell. My pupil was overjoyed with hissuccess, and appeared to be so grateful to me that I felt sure I shouldbe able to sell him three or four blocks of Rome real estate at least. I invited him to take dinner, and served as part of the repast the meatof the buffalo he had shot. The next morning he looked me up and toldme he wanted to make a proposition to me. 

"What is it?" I asked. I had thought I was the one who was going tomake a proposition. 

"I will give you one-eighth of this town site, " he said. 

The nerve of this proposal took me off my feet. Here was a totalstranger offering me one-eighth of my own town site as a reward forwhat I had done for him. 

I told him that if he killed another buffalo I would have to hog-hobblehim and send him out of town; then rode off and left him. 

This magnanimous offer occurred right in front of my own house. My wifeoverheard it, and also my reply. 

As I rode away, he called out that he wanted to explain, but I wasthoroughly disgusted. 

"I have no time to listen to you, " I shouted over my shoulder. 

I was bound out on a buffalo hunt to get meat for the graders twentymiles away on the railroad, and I kept right on going. Three daysafterward I rode back over the ridge above the town of Rome and lookeddown on it. 

I took several more looks. The town was being torn down and cartedaway. The balloon-frame buildings were coming apart section by section. I could see at least a hundred teams and wagons carting lumber, furniture, and everything that made up the town over the prairies tothe eastward. 

My pupil at buffalo hunting was Dr. Webb, president of the town-sitecompany of the Kansas Pacific. After I had ridden away withoutlistening to his explanations he had invited the citizens of Rome tocome over and see where the new railroad division town of Hays City wasto be built. He supplied them with wagons for the journey from a numberof rock wagons that had been lent him by the Government to assist himin the location of a new town. The distance was only a mile, and he gota crowd. At the town site of Hays City he made a speech, telling thepeople who he was and what he proposed to do. He said the railroadwould build its repair-shops at the new town, and there would beemployment for many men, and that Hays City was destined soon to be themost important place on the Plains. He had already put surveyors towork on the site. Lots, he said, were then on the market, and could behad far more reasonably than the lots in Rome. 

My fellow-citizens straightway began to pick out their lots in the newtown. Webb loaned them the six-mule Government wagons to bring overtheir goods and chattels, together with the timbers of their houses. When I galloped into Rome that day there was hardly a house leftstanding save my little home, our general store, and a few sod-housesand dugouts. 

Mrs. Cody and the baby were sitting on a drygoods box when I rode up tothe store. My partner, Rose, stood near by, whistling and whittling. 

"My word, Rose! What has become of our town!" I cried. Rose could makeno answer. Mrs. Cody said:

"You wrote me you were worth $250, 000. "

"We've got no time to talk about that now, " I said. "What made thistown move away?"

"You ought to have taken Mr. Webb's offer, " was her answer. 

"Who the dickens is Webb?" I stormed. Rose looked up from hiswhittling. "Bill, " he said, "that little flapper-jack was the presidentof the town-site company for the K. P. Railroad, and he's run such abluff on our citizens about a new town site that is going to be adivision-point that they've all moved over there. "

"Yes, " commented Mrs. Cody, "and where is your $250, 000?"

"Well, I've got to make it yet, " I said, and then to Rose: "How did thefall hit you?"

"What fall?"

"From millionaire to pauper. "

"It hasn't got through hitting me yet, " he said solemnly. 

Rose went back to his grading contract, and I resumed my work as abuffalo hunter. When the Perry House, the Rome hotel, was moved to HaysCity and rebuilt there, I took my wife and daughter and installed themthere. 

It was hard to descend from the rank of millionaires to that of gradersand buffalo hunters, but we had to do it. The rise and fall of modernRome had made us, and it broke us!

CHAPTER IV

I soon became better acquainted with Dr. Webb, through whose agency ourtown of Rome had fallen almost overnight. We visited him often in Hays, and eventually he presented my partner Rose and myself each with twolots in the new town. 

Webb frequently accompanied me on buffalo-hunting excursions; andbefore he had been on the prairie a year there were few men who couldkill more buffalo than he. 

Once, when I was riding Brigham, and Webb was mounted on a splendidthoroughbred bay, we discovered a band of Indians about two milesdistant, maneuvering so as to get between us and the town. A gallop ofthree miles brought us between them and home; but by that time they hadcome within three-quarters of a mile of us. We stopped to wave ourhands at them, and fired a few shots at long range. But as there werethirteen in the party, and they were getting a little too close, weturned and struck out for Hays. They sent some scattering shots inpursuit, then wheeled and rode off toward the Saline River. 

When there were no buffalo to hunt I tried the experiment of hitchingBrigham to one of our railroad scrapers, but he was not gaited for thatsort of work. I had about given up the idea of extending his usefulnessto railroading when news came that buffaloes were coming over the hill. There had been none in the vicinity for some time. As a consequence, meat was scarce. 

I took the harness from Brigham, mounted him bareback and started afterthe game, being armed with my new buffalo killer which I had named"Lucretia Borgia, " an improved breech-loading needle-gun which I hadobtained from the Government. 

As I was riding toward the buffaloes I observed five men coming fromthe fort. They, too, had seen the herd and had come to join the chase. As I neared them I saw that they were officers, newly arrived at thefort, a captain and four lieutenants. 

"Hello, my friend!" sang out the captain as they came up. "I see youare after the same game we are. "

"Yes, sir, " I returned. "I saw those buffaloes coming. We are out offresh meat, so I thought I would get some. "

The captain eyed my cheap-looking outfit closely. Brigham, though thebest buffalo horse in the West, was decidedly unprepossessing inappearance. 

"Do you expect to catch any buffaloes on that Gothic steed!" asked thecaptain, with a laugh. 

"I hope so. "

"You'll never catch them in the world, my fine fellow. It requires afast horse to overtake those animals. "

"Does it?" I asked innocently. 

"Yes. But come along with us. We're going to kill them more for thesport than anything else. After we take the tongues and a piece of thetenderloin, you may have what is left. "

Eleven animals were in the herd, which was about a mile distant. Inoticed they were making toward the creek for water. I knew buffalonature, and was aware that it would be difficult to turn them fromtheir course. I therefore started toward the creek to head them off, while the officers dashed madly up behind them. 

The herd came rushing up past me, not a hundred yards distant, whiletheir pursuers followed, three hundred yards in the rear. 

"Now, " thought I, "is the time to get in my work. " I pulled the blindbridle from Brigham, who knew as well as I did what was expected ofhim. The moment he was free of the bridle he set out at top speed, running in ahead of the officers. In a few jumps he brought mealongside the rear buffalo. Raising old "Lucretia Borgia, " I killed theanimal with one shot. On went Brigham to the next buffalo, ten feetfarther along, and another was disposed of. As fast as one animal wouldfall, Brigham would pass to the next, getting so close that I couldalmost touch it with my gun. In this fashion I killed eleven buffaloeswith twelve shots. 

As the last one dropped my horse stopped. I jumped to the ground. Turning round to the astonished officers, who had by this time caughtup, I said:

"Now, gentlemen, allow me to present you with all the tongues andtenderloins from these animals that you want. "

Captain Graham, who, I soon learned, was the senior officer, gasped. "Well, I never saw the like before! Who are you, anyway?"

"My name is Cody, " I said. 

Lieutenant Thompson, one of the party, who had met me at Fort Harker, cried out: "Why, that is Bill Cody, our old scout. " He introduced me tohis comrades, Captain Graham and Lieutenants Reed, Emmick, and Ezekial. 

Graham, something of a horseman himself, greatly admired Brigham. "Thathorse of yours has running points, " he admitted. 

The officers were a little sore at not getting a single shot; but theway I had killed the buffaloes, they said, amply repaid them for theirdisappointment. It was the first time they had ever seen or heard of awhite man running buffaloes without either saddle or bridle. 

I told them Brigham knew nearly as much about the business as I did. Hewas a wonderful horse. If the buffalo did not fall at the first shot hewould stop to give me a second chance; but if, on the second shot, Idid not kill the game, he would go on impatiently as if to say: "Ican't fool away my time by giving you more than two shots!"

Captain Graham told me that he would be stationed at Fort Hays duringthe summer. In the event of his being sent out on a scouting expeditionhe wanted me as scout and guide. I said that although I was very busywith my railroad contract I would be glad to go with him. 

That night the Indians unexpectedly raided our horses, and ran off fiveor six of the best work-teams. At daylight I jumped on Brigham, rode toFort Hays, and reported the raid to the commanding officer. CaptainGraham and Lieutenant Emmick were ordered out with their company of onehundred colored troops. In an hour we were under way. The darkies hadnever been in an Indian fight and were anxious to "sweep de red debbilsoff de face ob de earth. " Graham was a dashing officer, eager to make arecord, and it was with difficulty that I could trail fast enough tokeep out of the way of the impatient soldiers. Every few moments thecaptain would ride up to see if the trail was freshening, and to askhow soon we would overtake the marauders. 

At the Saline River we found the Indians had stopped only to graze andwater the animals and had pushed on toward Solomon. After crossing theriver they made no effort to conceal their trail, thinking they weresafe from pursuit. We reached Solomon at sunset. Requesting CaptainGraham to keep his command where it was, I went ahead to try to locatethe redmen. 

Riding down a ravine that led to the river, I left my horse, and, creeping uphill, looked cautiously over the summit upon Solomon. Inplain sight, not a mile away, was a herd of horses grazing, among themthe animals which had been stolen from us. Presently I made out theIndian camp, noted its "lay, " and calculated how best we could approachit. 

Graham's eyes danced with excitement when I reported the prospect of animmediate encounter. We decided to wait until the moon rose, and thenmake a sudden dash, taking the redskins by surprise. 

We thought we had everything cut and dried, but alas! just as we werenearing the point where we were to take the open ground and make ourcharge, one of the colored gentlemen became so excited that he firedhis gun. 

We began the charge immediately, but the warning had been sounded. TheIndians at once sprang to their horses, and were away before we reachedtheir camp. Captain Graham shouted, "Follow me, boys!" and follow himwe did, but in the darkness the Indians made good their escape. Thebugle sounded the recall, but some of the darkies did not get back tocamp until the next morning, having, in their fright, allowed thehorses to run wherever it suited them to go. 

We followed the trail awhile the next day, but it became evident thatit would be a long chase, and as we were short of rations we startedback to camp. Captain Graham was bitterly disappointed at being cheatedout of a fight that seemed at hand. He roundly cursed the darky who badgiven, the warning with his gun. That gentleman, as a punishment, wascompelled to walk all the way back to Fort Hays. 

The western end of the Kansas Pacific was at this time in the heart ofthe buffalo country. Twelve hundred men were employed in theconstruction of the road. The Indians were very troublesome, and it wasdifficult to obtain fresh meat for the hands. The company thereforeconcluded to engage expert hunters to kill buffaloes. 

Having heard of my experience and success as a buffalo hunter, GoddardBrothers, who had the contract for feeding the men, made me a goodoffer to become their hunter. They said they would require about twelvebuffaloes a day--twenty-four hams and twelve humps, as only the humpand hindquarters of each animal were utilized. The work was dangerous. Indians were riding all over that section of the country, and my dutieswould require me to journey from five to ten miles from the railroadevery day in order to secure the game, accompanied by only one man witha light wagon to haul the meat back to camp. I demanded a large salary, which they could well afford to pay, as the meat itself would cost themnothing. Under the terms of the contract which I signed with them, Iwas to receive five hundred dollars a month, agreeing on my part tosupply them with all the meat they wanted. 

Leaving Rose to complete our grading contract, I at once began mycareer as a buffalo hunter for the Kansas Pacific. It was not longbefore I acquired a considerable reputation, and it was at this timethat the title "Buffalo Bill" was conferred upon me by the railroadhands. Of this title, which has stuck to me through life, I have neverbeen ashamed. 

During my engagement as hunter for the company, which covered a periodof eighteen months, I killed 4, 280 buffaloes and had many excitingadventures with the Indians, including a number of hairbreadth escapes, some of which are well worth relating. 

One day, in the spring of 1868, I mounted Brigham and started for SmokyHill River. After a gallop of twenty miles I reached the top of a smallhill overlooking that beautiful stream. Gazing out over the landscape, I saw a band of about thirty Indians some half-mile distant. I knew bythe way they jumped on their horses they had seen me as soon as I sawthem. 

My one chance for my life was to run. I wheeled my horse and startedfor the railroad. Brigham struck out as if he comprehended that thiswas a life-or-death matter. On reaching the next ridge I looked aroundand saw the Indians, evidently well mounted, and coming for me fullspeed. Brigham put his whole strength into the flight, and for a fewminutes did some of the prettiest running I ever saw. But the Indianshad nearly as good mounts as he, and one of their horses in particular, a spotted animal, gained on me steadily. 

Occasionally the brave who was riding this fleet horse would send abullet whistling after me. Soon they began to strike too near forcomfort. The other Indians were strung out along behind, and could dono immediate damage. But I saw that the fellow in the lead must bechecked, or a stray bullet might hit me or the horse. Suddenly stoppingBrigham, therefore, I raised old "Lucretia" to my shoulder and tookdeliberate aim, hoping to hit either the horse or the rider. He was noteighty yards behind me. At the crack of the rifle down went the horse. Not waiting to see if he regained his feet, Brigham and I went fairlyflying toward our destination. We had urgent business just then andwere in a hurry to attend to it. 

The other Indians had gained while I stopped to drop the leader. Avolley of shots whizzed past me. Fortunately none of them hit. Now andthen, to return the compliment, I wheeled and fired. One of my shotsbroke the leg of one of my pursuers' mounts. 

But seven or eight Indians now remained in dangerous proximity to me. As their horses were beginning to lag, I checked Brigham to give him anopportunity to get a few extra breaths. I had determined that if theworst came to the worst I would drop into a buffalo wallow, where Imight possibly stand off my pursuers. I was not compelled to do this, for Brigham carried me through nobly. 

When we came within three miles of the railroad track, where twocompanies of soldiers were stationed, one of the outposts gave thealarm. In a few minutes, to my great delight, I saw men on foot and onhorseback hurrying to the rescue. The Indians quickly turned andgalloped away as fast as they had come. When I reached my friends, Iturned Brigham over to them. He was led away and given the care andrub-down that he richly deserved. 

Captain Nolan of the Tenth Cavalry now came up with forty men, and onhearing my account of what had happened determined to pursue theIndians. I was given a cavalry horse for a remount and we were off. 

Our horses were all fresh and excellent stock. We soon began shorteningthe distance between ourselves and the fugitives. Before they had fledfive miles we overtook them and killed eight of their number. Theothers succeeded in making their escape. Upon coming to the place whereI had dropped the spotted horse that carried the leader of my pursuersI found that my bullet had struck him in the forehead, killing himinstantly. He was a fine animal, and should have been engaged in betterbusiness. 

On our return we found old Brigham grazing contentedly. He looked upinquiring, as if to ask if we had punished the redskins who pursued us. I think he read the answer in my eyes. 

Another adventure which deserves a place in these reminiscencesoccurred near the Saline River. My companion at the time was Scotty, the butcher who accompanied me on my hunts, to cut up the meat and loadit on the wagon for hauling to the railroad camp. 

I had killed fifteen buffaloes, and we were on our way home with awagonload of meat when we were jumped by a big band of Indians. 

[Illustration: WINNING MY NAME--"BUFFALO BILL"]

I was mounted on a splendid horse belonging to the company, and couldeasily have made my escape, but Scotty had only the mule team, whichdrew the wagon as a means of flight, and of course I could not leavehim. 

To think was to act in those days. Scotty and I had often talked ofwhat we would do in case of a sudden attack, and we forthwith proceededto carry out the plan we had made. 

Jumping to the ground, we unhitched the mules more quickly than thatoperation had ever been performed before. The mules and my horse wetied to the wagon. We threw the buffalo hams on the ground and piledthem about the wheels so as to form a breastwork. Then, with an extrabox of ammunition and three or four extra revolvers which we alwayscarried with us, we crept under the wagon, prepared to give ourvisitors a reception they would remember. 

On came the Indians, pell-mell, but when they got within a hundredyards of us we opened such a sudden and galling fire that they held upand began circling about us. 

Several times they charged. Their shots killed the two mules and myhorse. But we gave it to them right and left, and had the satisfactionof seeing three of them fall to the ground not more than fifty feetaway. 

When we had been cooped up in our little fort for about an hour we sawthe cavalry coming toward us, full gallop, over the prairie. TheIndians saw the soldiers almost as soon as we did. Mounting theirhorses, they disappeared down the cañon of the creek. When the cavalryarrived we had the satisfaction of showing them five Indians who wouldbe "good" for all time. Two hours later we reached the camp with ourmeat, which we found to be all right, although it had a few bullets andarrows imbedded in it. 

It was while I was hunting for the railroad that I became acquaintedwith Kit Carson, one of the most noted of the guides, scouts, andhunters that the West ever produced. He was going through our countryon his way to Washington. I met him again on his return, and he was myguest for a few days in Hays City. He then proceeded to Fort Lyon, Colorado, near which his son-in-law, Mr. Boggs, resided. His health hadbeen failing for some time, and shortly afterward he died at Mr. Boggs's residence on Picket Wire Creek. 

Soon after the adventure with Scotty I had my celebrated buffaloshooting contest with Billy Comstock, a well-known guide, scout, andinterpreter. Comstock, who was chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, had areputation of being a successful buffalo hunter, and his friends at thefort--the officers in particular--were anxious to back him against me. 

It was arranged that I should shoot a match with him, and thepreliminaries were easily and satisfactorily arranged. We were to huntone day of eight hours, beginning at eight o'clock in the morning. Thewager was five hundred dollars a side, and the man who should kill thegreater number of buffaloes from horseback was to be declared thewinner. Incidentally my title of "Buffalo Bill" was at stake. 

The hunt took place twenty miles east of Sheridan. It had been welladvertised, and there was a big "gallery. " An excursion party, whosemembers came chiefly from St. Louis and numbered nearly a hundredladies and gentlemen, came on a special train to view the sport. Amongthem was my wife and my little daughter Arta, who had come to visit mefor a time. 

Buffaloes were plentiful. It had been agreed that we should go into theherd at the same time and make our "runs, " each man killing as manyanimals as possible. A referee followed each of us, horseback, andcounted the buffaloes killed by each man. The excursionists and otherspectators rode out to the hunting-grounds in wagons and on horseback, keeping well out of sight of the buffaloes, so as not to frighten themuntil the time came for us to dash into the herd. They were permittedto approach closely enough to see what was going on. 

For the first "run" we were fortunate in getting good ground. Comstockwas mounted on his favorite horse. I rode old Brigham. I felt confidentthat I had the advantage in two things: first, I had the best buffalohorse in the country; second, I was using what was known at the time asa needle-gun, a breech-loading Springfield rifle, caliber . 50. This was"Lucretia, " the weapon of which I have already told you. Comstock'sHenry rifle, though it could fire more rapidly than mine, did not, Ifelt certain, carry powder and lead enough to equal my weapon inexecution. 

When the time came to go into the herd, Comstock and I dashed forward, followed by the referees. The animals separated. Comstock took the leftbunch, I the right. My great forte in killing buffaloes was to get themcircling by riding my horse at the head of the herd and shooting theirleaders. Thus the brutes behind were crowded to the left, so that theywere soon going round and round. 

This particular morning the animals were very accommodating. I soon hadthem running in a beautiful circle. I dropped them thick and fast tillI had killed thirty-eight, which finished my "run. "

Comstock began shooting at the rear of the buffaloes he was chasing, and they kept on in a straight line. He succeeded in killingtwenty-three, but they were scattered over a distance of three miles. The animals I had shot lay close together. 

Our St. Louis friends set out champagne when the result of the firstrun was announced. It proved a good drink on a Kansas prairie, and abuffalo hunter proved an excellent man to dispose of it. 

While we were resting we espied another herd approaching. It was asmall drove, but we prepared to make it serve our purpose. Thebuffaloes were cows and calves, quicker in their movements than thebulls. We charged in among them, and I got eighteen to Comstock'sfourteen. 

Again the spectators approached, and once more the champagne wentround. After a luncheon we resumed the hunt. Three miles distant we sawanother herd. I was so far ahead of my competitor now that I thought Icould afford to give an exhibition of my skill. Leaving my saddle andbridle behind, I rode, with my competitor, to windward of thebuffaloes. 

I soon had thirteen down, the last one of which I had driven close tothe wagons, where the ladies were watching the contest. It frightenedsome of the tender creatures to see a buffalo coming at full speeddirectly toward them, but I dropped him in his tracks before he had gotwithin fifty yards of the wagon. This finished my "run" with a score ofsixty-nine buffaloes for the day. Comstock had killed forty-six. 

It was now late in the afternoon. Comstock and his backers gave up theidea of beating me. The referee declared me the winner of the match, and the champion buffalo hunter of the Plains. 

On our return to camp we brought with us the best bits of meat, as wellas the biggest and best buffalo heads. The heads I always turned overto the company, which found a very good use for them. They were mountedin the finest possible manner and sent to the principal cities alongthe road, as well as to the railroad centers of the country. Here theywere prominently placed at the leading hotels and in the stations, where they made an excellent advertisement for the road Today theyattract the attention of travelers almost everywhere. Often, whiletouring the country, I see one of them, and feel reasonably certainthat I brought down the animal it once ornamented. Many a wild andexciting hunt is thus called to my mind. 

In May, 1868, the Kansas Pacific track was pushed as far as Sheridan. Construction was abandoned for the time, and my services as buffalohunter were no longer required. A general Indian war was now raging allalong the Western borders. General Sheridan had taken up headquartersat Fort Hays, in order to be on the job in person. Scouts and guideswere once more in great demand, and I decided to go back to my oldcalling. 

I did not wish to kill my faithful old Brigham by the rigors of ascouting campaign. I had no suitable place to leave him, and determinedto dispose of him. At the suggestion of a number of friends, all ofwhom wanted him, I put him up at a raffle, selling ten chances atthirty dollars each, which were all quickly taken. Ike Bonham, who wonhim, took him to Wyandotte, Kansas, where he soon added fresh laurelsto his already shining wreath. In the crowning event of a tournament heeasily outdistanced all entries in a four-mile race to Wyandotte, winning $250 for his owner, who had been laughed at for entering suchan unprepossessing animal. 

I lost track of him after that. For several years I did not know whathad become of him. But many years after, while in Memphis, I met Mr. Wilcox, who had once been superintendent of construction on the KansasPacific. He informed me that he owned Brigham, and I rode out to hisplace to take a look at my gallant old friend. He seemed to rememberme, as I put my arms about his neck and caressed him like a long-lostchild. 

When I had received my appointment as guide and scout I was ordered toreport to the commandant of Fort Larned, Captain Daingerfield Parker. Iknew that it would be necessary to take my family, who had been with meat Sheridan, to Leavenworth and leave them there. This I did at once. 

When I arrived at Larned, I found the scouts under command of DickCurtis, an old-time scout of whom I have spoken in these reminiscences. Three hundred lodges of Kiowa and Comanche Indians were encamped nearthe fort. These savages had not yet gone on the warpath, but they wererestless and discontented. Their leading chief and other warriors werebecoming sullen and insolent. The Post was garrisoned by only twocompanies of infantry and one troop of cavalry. General Hazen, who wasat the post, was endeavoring to pacify the Indians; I was appointed ashis special scout. 

Early one morning in August I accompanied him to Fort Zarrah, fromwhich post he proceeded, without an escort, to Fort Harker. Instructions were left that the escort with me should return to Larnedthe next day. After he had gone I went to the sergeant in command ofthe squad and informed him I intended to return that afternoon. Isaddled my mule and set out. All went well till I got about halfwaybetween the two posts, when at Pawnee Rock I was suddenly jumped by atleast forty Indians, who came rushing up, extending their hands andsaying, "How?" "How?" These redskins had been hanging about Fort Larnedthat morning. I saw that they had on their warpaint, and looked fortrouble. 

As they seemed desirous to shake hands, however, I obeyed my firstfriendly impulse, and held out my hand. One of them seized it with atight grip and jerked me violently forward. Another grabbed my mule bythe bridle. In a few minutes I was completely surrounded. 

Before I could do anything at all in my defense, they had taken myrevolvers from the holsters and I received a blow on the head from atomahawk which rendered me nearly senseless. My gun, which was lyingacross the saddle, was snatched from its place. Finally two Indians, laying hold of the bridle, started off in the direction of the ArkansasRiver, leading the mule, which was lashed by the other Indians whofollowed along after. 

The whole crowd was whooping, singing, and yelling as only Indians can. Looking toward the opposite side of the river, I saw the people of abig village moving along the bank, and made up my mind that the redmenhad left the Post, and were on the warpath in dead earnest. 

My captors crossed the stream with me, and as we waded through theshallow water they lashed both the mule and me. Soon they brought mebefore an important-looking body of Indians, who proved to be thechiefs and principal warriors. Among them I recognized, old Satanta andothers whom I knew. I supposed that all was over with me. 

All at once Satanta asked me where I had been, and I suddenly had aninspiration. 

I said I had been after a herd of cattle or "Whoa-haws" as they calledthem. The Indians had been out of meat for several weeks, and a largeherd of cattle which had been promised them had not arrived. 

As soon as I said I had been after "Whoa-haws" old Satanta beganquestioning me closely. When he asked where the cattle were I repliedthat they were only a few miles distant and that I had been sent byGeneral Hazen to inform him that the herd was coming, and that theywere intended for his people. This seemed to please the old rascal. Heasked if there were any soldiers with the herd. I said there were. Thereupon the chiefs held a consultation. Presently Satanta asked me ifthe general had really said they were to have the cattle. I assured himthat he had. I followed this by a dignified inquiry as to why his youngmen had treated me so roughly. 

He intimated that this was only a boyish freak, for which he was verysorry. The young men had merely wanted to test my courage. The wholething, he said, was a joke. The old liar was now beating me at thelying game, but I did not care, since I was getting the best of it. 

I did not let him suspect that I doubted his word. He ordered the youngmen to restore my arms and reprimanded them for their conduct. He wasplaying a crafty game, for he preferred to get the meat withoutfighting if possible, and my story that soldiers were coming had givenhim food for reflection. After another council the old man asked me ifI would go and bring the cattle down. "Of course, " I told him. "Suchare my instructions from General Hazen. "

In response to an inquiry if I wanted any of his young men to accompanyme I said that it would be best to go alone. Wheeling my mule around, Iwas soon across the river, leaving the chief firmly believing that Iwas really going for the cattle, which existed only in my imagination. 

I knew if I could get the river between me and the Indians I would havea good three-quarters of a mile start of them and could make a run forFort Larned. But as I reached the river bank I looked about and saw tenor fifteen Indians who had begun to suspect that all was not as itshould be. 

The moment my mule secured a good foothold on the bank I urged him intoa gentle lope toward the place where, according to my story, the cattlewere to be brought. 

Upon reaching the top of the ridge and riding down the other side outof view, I turned my mount and headed westward for Fort Larned. I lethim out for all he was worth, and when I reached a little rise andlooked back the Indian village lay in plain sight. 

My pursuers were by this time on the ridge I had passed over, and werelooking for me in every direction. Soon they discovered me, anddiscovered also that I was running away. They struck out in swiftpursuit. In a few minutes it became painfully evident that they weregaining. 

When I crossed Pawnee Fork, two miles from the Post, two or three ofthem were but a quarter of a mile behind. As I gained the opposite sideof the creek I was overjoyed to see some soldiers in a Government wagona short distance away. I yelled at the top of my lungs that the Indianswere after me. 

When Denver Jim, an old scout, who was with the party, was informedthat there were ten or fifteen Indians in the pursuit he said:

"Let's lay for them. "

The wagon was driven hurriedly in among the trees and low box-elderbushes, and secreted, while we waited. We did not wait long. Soon upcame the Indians, lashing their horses, which were blowing and panting. We let two of them pass, then opened a lively fire on the next three orfour, killing two at the first volley. The others discovering that theyhad run into an ambush, whirled around and ran back in the directionfrom which they had come. The two who had passed heard the firing andmade their escape. 

The Indians that were killed were scalped, and we appropriated theirarms and equipment. Then, after catching the horses, we made our wayinto the Post. The soldiers had heard us firing, and as we entered thefort drums were beating and the buglers were sounding the call to fallin. The officers had thought Satanta and his warriors were coming in tocapture the fort. 

That very morning, two hours after General Hazen had left, the oldchief drove into the Post in an ambulance which he had received somemonths before from the Government. He seemed angry and bent onmischief. In an interview with Captain Parker, the ranking officer, heasked why General Hazen had left the fort without supplying him withbeef cattle. The captain said the cattle were then on the road, butcould not explain why they were delayed. 

The chief made numerous threats. He said that if he wanted to he couldcapture the whole Post. Captain Parker, who was a brave man, gave himto understand that he was reckoning beyond his powers. Satanta finallyleft in anger. Going to the sutler's store, he sold his ambulance tothe post-trader, and a part of the proceeds he secretly invested inwhisky, which could always be secured by the Indians from rascally menabout a Post, notwithstanding the military and civil laws. 

He then mounted his horse and rode rapidly to his village. He returnedin an hour with seven or eight hundred of his warriors, and it lookedas if he intended to carry out his threat of capturing the fort. Thegarrison at once turned out. The redskins, when within a half mile, began circling around the fort, firing several shots into it. 

While this circling movement was taking place, the soldiers observedthat the whole village had packed up and was on the move. The mountedwarriors remained behind some little time, to give their families anopportunity to get away. At last they circled the Post several timesmore, fired a few parting shots, and then galloped over the prairie toovertake the fast-departing village. On their way they surprised andkilled a party of woodchoppers on Pawnee Fork, as well as a party ofherders guarding beef cattle. 

The soldiers with the wagon I had opportunely met at the crossing hadbeen out looking for the bodies of these victims, seven or eight inall. Under the circumstances it was not surprising that the report ofour guns should have persuaded the garrison that Satanta's men werecoming back to make their threatened assault. 

There was much excitement at the Post. The guards had been doubled. Captain Parker had all the scouts at his headquarters. He was seekingto get one of them to take dispatches to General Sheridan at Fort Hays. I reported to him at once, telling him of my encounter and my escape. 

"You were lucky to think of that cattle story, Cody, " he said. "But forthat little game your scalp would now be ornamenting a Kiowa lodge. "

"Cody, " put in Dick Curtis, "the captain is trying to get somebody totake dispatches to General Sheridan. None of the scouts here seemwilling to undertake the trip. They say they are not well enoughacquainted with the country to find the way at night. "

A storm was coming up, and it was sure to be a dark night. Not only didthe scouts fear they would lose the way, but, with hostile Indians allabout, the undertaking was exceedingly dangerous. A large party ofredskins was known to be encamped at Walnut Creek, on the direct roadto Fort Hays. 

Observing that Curtis was obviously trying to induce me to volunteer, Imade an evasive answer. I was wearied from my long day's ride, and thebeating I received from the Indians had not rested me any. But Curtiswas persistent. He said:

"I wish you were not so tired, Bill. You know the country better thanthe rest of us. I'm certain you could go through. "

"As far as the ride is concerned, " I said, "that would not matter. Butthis is risky business just now, with the country full of hostileIndians. Still, if no other man will volunteer I will chance it, provided I am supplied with a good horse. I am tired of dodging Indianson a Government mule. "

At this, Captain Nolan, who had been listening, said:

"Bill, you can have the best horse in my company. "

I picked the horse ridden by Captain Nolan's first sergeant. To thecaptain's inquiry as to whether I was sure I could find my way, Ireplied:

"I have hunted on every acre of ground between here and Fort Hays. Ican almost keep my route by the bones of the dead buffaloes. "

"Never fear about Cody, captain, " Curtis added; "he is as good in thedark as he is in the daylight. "

By ten o'clock that night I was on my way to Fort Hays, sixty-fivemiles distant across the country. 

It was pitch-dark, but this I liked, as it lessened the probability ofthe Indians' seeing me unless I stumbled on them by accident. Mygreatest danger was that my horse might run into a hole and fall, andin this way get away from me. To avoid any such accident I tied one endof my rawhide lariat to my belt and the other to the bridle. I did notpropose to be left alone, on foot, on that prairie. 

Before I had traveled three miles the horse, sure enough, stepped intoa prairie dog's hole. Down he went, throwing me over his head. Hesprang to his feet before I could catch the bridle, and galloped awayinto the darkness. But when he reached the end of his lariat hediscovered that he was picketed to Bison William. I brought him upstanding, recovered my gun, which had fallen to the ground, and wassoon in the saddle again. 

Twenty-five miles from Fort Larned the country became rougher, and Ihad to travel more carefully. Also I proceeded as quietly as possible, for I knew I was in the vicinity of the Indians who had been latelyencamped on Walnut Creek. But when I came up near the creek Iunexpectedly rode in among a herd of horses. The animals becamefrightened, and ran off in all directions. Without pausing to make anyapology, I backed out as quickly as possible. But just at that minute adog, not fifty yards away, set up a howl. Soon I heard Indians talking. They had been guarding the horses, and had heard the hoofbeats of myhorse. In an instant they were on their ponies and after me. 

I urged my mount to full speed up the creek bottom, taking chances ofhis falling into a hole. The Indians followed me as fast as they could, but I soon outdistanced them. 

I struck the old Santa Fe trail ten miles from Fort Hays just atdaybreak. Shortly after reveille I rode into the post, where ColonelMoore, to whom I reported, asked for the dispatches from Captain Parkerfor General Sheridan. He asked me to give them into his hands, but Isaid I preferred to hand them to the general in person. Sheridan, whowas sleeping in the same building, heard our voices and bade me comeinto his room. 

"Hello, Cody!" he said. "Is that you?"

"Yes, sir, " I said. "I have dispatches for you. "

He read them hurriedly, told me they were very important, and asked allabout the outbreak of the Kiowas and Comanches. I gave him all theinformation I possessed. 

"Bill, " said General Sheridan, "you've had a pretty lively ride. Isuppose you're tired after your long journey. "

"Not very, " I said. 

"Come in and have breakfast with me. "

"No, thank you. Hays City is only a mile from here. I know every onethere and want to go over and have a time. "

"Very well, do as you please, but come back this afternoon, for I wantto see you. "

I got little rest at Hays City, and yet I was soon to set out onanother hard ninety-five-mile journey. 

CHAPTER V

When I rode back to General Sheridan's headquarters, after a visit withold friends at Hays City, I noticed several scouts in a little groupengaged in conversation on some important topic. Upon inquiry I learnedthat General Sheridan wanted a dispatch sent to Fort Dodge, a distanceof ninety-five miles. 

The Indians had recently killed two or three men engaged in carryingdispatches over this route. On this account none of the scouts were atall anxious to volunteer. A reward of several hundred dollars hadfailed to secure any takers. 

The scouts had heard of what I had done the day before. They asked meif I did not think the journey to Fort Dodge dangerous. I gave as myopinion that a man might possibly go through without seeing an Indian, but that the chances were ten to one that he would have an exceedinglylively run before he reached his destination, provided he got there atall. 

Leaving the scouts arguing as to whether any of them would undertakethe venture, I reported to General Sheridan. He informed me that he waslooking for a man to carry dispatches to Fort Dodge, and, while we weretalking, Dick Parr, his chief of scouts, came in to inform him thatnone of his scouts would volunteer. Upon hearing this, I said:

"General, if no one is ready to volunteer, I'll carry your dispatchesmyself. "

"I had not thought of asking you to do this, Cody, " said the general. "You are already pretty hard-worked. But it is really important thatthese dispatches should go through. "

"If you don't get a courier before four this afternoon, I'll be readyfor business, " I told him. "All I want is a fresh horse. Meanwhile I'llget a little more rest. "

It was not much of a rest, however, that I got. I went over to HaysCity and had a "time" with the boys. Coming back to the Post at theappointed hour, I found that no scout had volunteered. I reported tothe general, who had secured an excellent horse for me. Handing me thedispatches, he said:

"You can start as soon as you wish. The sooner the better. And goodluck to you, my boy!"

An hour later I was on my way. At dusk I crossed the Smoky Hill River. I did not urge my horse much, as I was saving him for the latter end ofthe journey, or for any run I might have to make should the "wild boys"jump me. 

Though I kept a sharp watch through the night I saw no Indians, and hadno adventures worth relating. Just at daylight I found myselfapproaching Saw Log River, having ridden about seventy-five miles. 

A company of colored cavalry, under command of Major Cox, was stationedat this point. I approached the camp cautiously. The darky soldiers hada habit of shooting first and crying "Halt!" afterward. When I gotwithin hearing distance I called out, and was answered by one of thepickets. I shouted to him not to shoot, informing him that I carrieddispatches from Fort Hays. Then, calling the sergeant of the guard, Iwent up to the vidette, who at once recognized me, and took me to thetent of Major Cox. 

This officer supplied me with a fresh horse, as requested by GeneralSheridan in a letter I brought to him. After an hour's sleep and ameal, I jumped into the saddle, and before sunrise was on my way. Ireached Fort Dodge, twenty-five miles further on, between nine and teno'clock without having seen a single Indian. 

When I had delivered my dispatches, Johnny Austin, an old friend, whowas chief of scouts at the Post, invited me to come to his house for anap. When I awoke Austin told me there had been Indians all around thePost. He was very much surprised that I had seen none of them. They hadrun off cattle and horses, and occasionally killed a man. Indians, hesaid, were also very thick on the Arkansas River between Fort Dodge andFort Larned, and had made considerable trouble. The commanding officerof Fort Dodge was very anxious to send dispatches to Fort Larned, butthe scouts, like those at Fort Hays, were backward about volunteering. Fort Larned was my Post, and I wanted to go there anyhow. So I toldAustin I would carry the dispatches, and if any of the boys wanted togo along I would be glad of their company. This offer was reported tothe commanding officer. He sent for me, and said he would be glad tohave me take the dispatches, if I could stand the trip after what I hadalready done. 

"All I want is a fresh horse, sir, " said I. 

"I am sorry we haven't a decent horse, " he replied, "but we have areliable and honest Government mule, if that will do you. "

"Trot out the mule, " I told him. "It is good enough for me. I am readyat any time. "

The mule was forthcoming. At dark I pulled out for Fort Larned, andproceeded without interruption to Coon Creek, thirty miles from FortDodge. I had left the wagon road some distance to the south, andtraveled parallel to it. This I decided would be the safer course, asthe Indians might be lying in watch for dispatch-bearers and scoutsalong the main road. 

At Coon Creek I dismounted and led the mule down to the river to get adrink of water. While I was drinking the brute jerked loose and struckout down the creek. I followed him, trusting that he would catch hisfoot in the bridle rein and stop, but he made straight for the wagonroad, where I feared Indians would be lurking, without a pause. At lasthe struck the road, but instead of turning back toward Fort Dodge heheaded for Fort Larned, keeping up a jogtrot that was just too fast topermit me to overtake him. 

I had my gun in hand, and was sorely tempted to shoot him more thanonce, and probably would have done so but for the fear of bringing theIndians down on me. But he was going my way, so I trudged along afterhim mile after mile, indulging from time to time in strong languageregarding the entire mule fraternity. The mule stuck to the road andkept on for Fort Larned, and I did the same thing. The distance wasthirty-five miles. As day was beginning to break, we--the mule andmyself--found ourselves on a hill looking down on the Pawnee Fork, onwhich Fort Larned was located, only four miles away. When the sunrisegun sounded we were within half a mile of the Post. 

I was thoroughly out of patience by this time. 

"Now, Mr. Mule, " I said, "it is my turn, " and threw my gun to myshoulder. Like the majority of Government mules, he was not easy tokill. He died hard, but he died. 

Hearing the report of the gun, the troops came rushing out to see whatwas the matter. When they heard my story they agreed that the mule hadgot no more than his deserts. I took the saddle and bridle andproceeded to the Post, where I delivered my dispatches to CaptainParker. I then went to Dick Curtis's house at the scouts' headquartersand put in several hours of solid sleep. 

During the day General Hazen returned from Fort Harker. He hadimportant dispatches to send to General Sheridan. I was feeling highlyelated over my ride, and as I was breaking the scout records Ivolunteered for this mission. 

The general accepted my offer, though he said there was no necessity ofmy killing myself. I said I had business which called me to Fort Hays, anyway, and that it would make no difference to the other scouts if hegave me the job, as none of them were particularly eager for thejourney. 

Accordingly, that night, I mounted an excellent horse, and next morningat daylight reached General Sheridan's headquarters at Fort Hays. 

The general was surprised to see me, and still more so when I told himof the time I had made on the rides I had successfully undertaken. Ibelieve this record of mine has never been beaten in a country infestedwith Indians and subject to blizzards and other violent weatherconditions. 

To sum up, I had ridden from Fort Larned to Fort Zarrah, a distance ofsixty-five miles and back in twelve hours. Ten miles must be added tothis for the distance the Indians took me across the Arkansas River. Inthe succeeding twenty-four hours I had gone from Fort Larned to FortHays, sixty-five miles, in eight hours. During the next twenty-fourhours I rode from Fort Hays to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles. Thefollowing night I traveled from Fort Dodge to Fort Larned, thirty mileson mule back and thirty-five miles on foot, in twelve hours, and thenext night sixty-five miles more from Fort Larned to Fort Hays. 

Altogether I had ridden and walked three hundred and sixty-five milesin fifty-eight hours, an average of over six miles an hour. 

Taking into consideration the fact that most of this riding was done inthe night over wild country, with no roads to follow, and that I hadcontinually to look out for Indians, it was regarded at the time as abig ride as well as a dangerous one. 

What I have set down here concerning it can be verified by referring tothe autobiography of General Sheridan. 

General Sheridan complimented me highly on this achievement. He told meI need not report back to General Hazen, as he had more important workfor me to do. The Fifth Cavalry, one of the finest regiments of thearmy, was on its way to the Department of the Missouri, and he wasgoing to send an expedition against the Dog Soldier Indians who wereinfesting the Republican River region. 

"Cody, " he said, "I am going to appoint you guide and chief of scoutsof the command. How does that suit you?"

I told him it suited me first rate and thanked him for the honor. 

The Dog Soldier Indians were a band of Cheyennes and of unruly, turbulent members of other tribes who would not enter into any treaty, and would have kept no treaty if they had made one. They had alwaysrefused to go on a reservation. They got their name from the word"Cheyenne, " which is derived from chien, the French word for "dog. "

On the third of October the Fifth Cavalry arrived at Fort Hays, and Iat once began making the acquaintance of the members of the regiment. General Sheridan introduced me to Colonel Royal, the commander, whom Ifound a gallant officer and an agreeable gentleman. I also becameacquainted with Major W. H. Brown, Major Walker, Captain Sweetman, Quartermaster E. M. Hays, and many others of the men with whom I wassoon to be associated. 

General Sheridan, being anxious to punish the Indians who had latelyfought General Forsythe, did not give the regiment much of a rest. OnOctober 5th it began the march to Beaver Creek country. 

The first night we camped on the south fork of Big Creek, four mileswest of Hays City. By this time I had become well acquainted with MajorBrown and Captain Sweetman. They invited me to mess with them, and ajolly mess we had. There were other scouts with the command besidesmyself. I particularly remember Tom Kenahan, Hank Fields, and acharacter called "Nosey. "

The morning of the 6th we pulled out to the north. During the day I wasparticularly struck with the appearance of the regiment. It was abeautiful command, and when strung out on the prairies with, a train ofseventy-five six-mule wagons, ambulances, and pack-mules, I felt veryproud of my position as guide and chief of scouts with such a warlikeexpedition. 

Just as we were going into camp on the Saline River that night we raninto a band of some fifteen Indians. They saw us, and dashed across thecreek, followed by some bullets which we sent after them. 

This little band proved to be only a scouting party, so we followed itonly a mile or two. Our attention was directed shortly to a herd ofbuffaloes, and we killed ten or fifteen for the command. 

Next day we marched thirty miles. When we went into camp Colonel Royalasked me to go out and kill some buffaloes for the boys. 

"All right, colonel, " I said; "send along a wagon to bring in themeat. "

"I am not in the habit of sending out my wagons till I know there issomething to be hauled in, " he said. "Kill your buffaloes first, andI'll send the wagons. "

Without further words I went out on my hunt. After a short absence Ireturned and asked the colonel to send his wagons for the half-dozenbuffaloes I had killed. 

The following afternoon he again requested me to go out afterbuffaloes. I didn't ask for any wagons this time, but rode out somedistance, and, coming upon a small herd, headed seven or eight of themdirectly for the camp. Instead of shooting them I ran them at fullspeed right into the place and then killed them one after another inrapid succession. 

Colonel Royal, who witnessed the whole proceeding, was annoyed andpuzzled, as he could see no good reason why I had not killed thebuffaloes on the prairie. 

Coming up angry, he demanded an explanation. 

"I can't allow any such business as this, Cody, " he exclaimed. "What doyou mean by it!"

"I didn't care about asking for wagons this time, Colonel, " I replied. "I thought I would make the buffaloes furnish their owntransportation. "

The colonel saw the force of my defense, and had no more to say on thesubject. 

No Indians had been seen in the vicinity during the day. Colonel Royal, having posted his pickets, supposed that everything was serene for thenight. But before morning we were aroused by shots, and immediatelyafterward one of the mounted pickets came galloping into camp with theannouncement that there were Indians close at hand. All the companiesfell into line, prepared and eager for action. The men were still newto Indian fighting. Many of them were excited. 

But, despite the alarm, no Indians made their appearance. Upon going tothe post where the picket said he had seen them, none were to be found, nor could the faintest trace be discovered. 

The sentinel, an Irishman, insisted that there certainly had beenredskins there. 

"But you must be mistaken, " said the colonel. 

"Upon me sowl, I'm not. As sure as me name's Pat Maloney, wan iv themred devils hit me on th' head with a club, so he did, " persisted thepicket. 

When morning came we made a successful effort to clear up the mystery. Elk tracks were found in the vicinity, and it was undoubtedly a herd ofelk that had frightened the picket. When he turned to flee he must havehit his head on an overhanging limb, which he supposed was the club ofa redskin, bent on his murder. It was hard, however, to convince himthat he could have been mistaken. 

Three days' march brought us to Beaver Creek, where we encamped andwhere scouts were sent out in different directions. None of theseparties discovered Indians, and they all returned to camp at about thesame time. They found it in a state of excitement. A few hours beforethe return of the scouts the camp had been attacked by a party ofredskins, who had killed two men and made off with sixty horsesbelonging to Company H. 

That evening the command started on the trail of the horse thieves. Major Brown with two companies and three days' rations pushed ahead inadvance of the main command. On the eighteenth day out, beingunsuccessful in the chase, and nearly out of rations, the entirecommand marched toward the nearest railroad station and camped on theSaline river, three miles distant from Buffalo Tank. 

While waiting for supplies we were joined by a new commanding officer, Brevet-Major-Greneral E. A. Carr, who was the senior major of theregiment and ranked Colonel Royal. He brought with him the celebratedForsythe Scouts, who were commanded by Lieutenant Pepoon, aregular-army officer. 

While in this camp, Major Brown welcomed a new lieutenant, who had cometo fill a vacancy in the command. This was A. B. Bache, and on the dayhe was to arrive Major Brown had his private ambulance brought out andinvited me to ride with him to the railroad station to meet thelieutenant. On the way to the depot he said:

"Now, Cody, we'll give Bache a lively little ride, and shake him up alittle. "

The new arrival was given a back seat in the ambulance when he got offthe train, and we headed for the camp. 

Presently Major Brown took the reins from his driver and at once beganwhipping the mules. When he had got them into a lively gallop hepulled out his revolver and fired several shots. The road was terriblyrough and the night was intensely dark. We could not see where we weregoing, and it was a wonderful piece of luck that the wagon did not tipover and break our necks. 

Finally Bache asked, good-humoredly:

"Is this the way you break in all your new lieutenants, Major?"

"Oh, no, " returned the major. "But this is the way we often ride inthis country. Keep your seat, Mr. Bache, and we'll take you through ontime, " he quoted, from Hank Monk's famous admonition to Horace Greeley. 

We were now rattling down a steep hill at full speed. Just as wereached the bottom, the front wheels struck a deep ditch over which themules had jumped. We were all brought up standing, and Bache plungedforward headlong to the front of the vehicle. 

"Take the back seat, lieutenant, " said Major Brown sternly. 

Bache replied that he had been trying to do so, keeping his nerve andhis temper. We soon got the wagon out of the ditch and resumed ourdrive. We swung into camp under full headway, and created considerableamusement. Everyone recognized the ambulance, and knew that Major Brownand I were out for a lark, so little was said about the exploit. 

Next morning at an early hour the command started out on another Indianhunt. General Carr, who had a pretty good idea where he would be likelyto find them, directed me to guide him by the nearest route to ElephantFork, on Beaver Creek. 

When we arrived at the South Fork of the Beaver, after two days' march, we discovered a fresh Indian trail. We had followed it hurriedly foreight miles when we discovered, on a bluff ahead, a large number ofIndians. 

General Carr ordered Lieutenant Pepoon's scouts and Company M to thefront. Company M was commanded by Lieutenant Schinosky, a recklessdare-devil born in France, who was eager for a brush with the Indians. 

In his anxiety to get into the fight he pushed his company nearly amile in advance of the main command, when he was jumped by some fourhundred Indians. Until our main force could come to his support he hadas lively a little fight as any one could have asked for. 

As the battle proceeded, the Indians continued to increase in numbers. At last it became apparent that we were fighting eight hundred or athousand of them. The engagement was general. There were killed andwounded on both sides. The Indians were obviously fighting to givetheir families and village a chance to get away. We had surprised themwith a larger force than they knew was in that part of the country. Thebattle continued steadily until dark. We drove them before us, but theyfought stubbornly. At night they annoyed us by firing down into ourcamp from the encircling hills. Several times it was necessary to orderout the command to dislodge them and to drive them back where theycould do no damage. 

After one of these sallies, Captain Sweetman, Lieutenant Bache, andmyself were taking supper together when "Whang!" came a bullet into Mr. Bache's plate. We finished our supper without having any more suchclose calls. 

At daylight next morning we took the trail again, soon reaching thespot where the Indians had camped the night before. Here there had beena large village, consisting of five hundred lodges. Continuing ourpursuit, we came in sight of the retreating village at two in theafternoon. At once the warriors turned back and gave us battle. 

To delay us as much as possible they set fire to the prairie grass infront and on all sides of us. For the remainder of the afternoon wekept up a running fight. Repeatedly the Indians attempted to lead usaway from the trail of their fleeing village. But their trail waseasily followed by the tepee poles, camp-kettles, robes, and all theparaphernalia which proved too heavy to carry for long, and which weredropped in the flight. It was useless to try to follow them afternightfall, and at dark we went into camp. 

Next morning we were again on the trail, which led north and backtoward Beaver Creek. The trail crossed this stream a few miles fromwhere we had first discovered the Indians. They had made almost acomplete circle in the hope of misleading us. 

Late in the afternoon we again saw them going over a hill far ahead. Toward evening the main body of warriors once more came back and foughtus, but we continued to drive them till dusk, when we encamped for thenight. 

Soon the Indians, finding they could not hold out against us, scatteredin every direction. We followed the main trail to the Republican River, where we made a cut-off and proceeded north toward the Platte. 

Here we found that the Indians, traveling day and night, had got a longstart. General Carr decided we had pushed them so hard and given themsuch a thorough scaring that they would leave the Republican countryand go north across the railroad. It seemed, therefore, unnecessary topursue them any further. Most of the Indians did cross the river nearOgallah as he predicted, and thence continued northward. 

That night we returned to the Republican River and camped in a grove ofcottonwoods, which I named Carr's Grove in honor of our commander. 

General Carr informed me that the next day's march would be toward theheadwaters of the Beaver. I said that the distance was abouttwenty-five miles, and he said we would make it the next day. Gettingan early start in the morning, we struck out across the prairie. Myposition, as guide, was the advance guard. About two o'clock GeneralCarr overtook me and asked me how far I supposed it was to water. Ireplied that I thought it was about eight miles, although we could seeno sign of a stream ahead. 

"Pepoon's scouts say you are traveling in the wrong direction, " saidthe general. "They say, the way you are bearing, it will be fifteenmiles before we strike any branches of the Beaver, and that when you doyou will find no water, for they are dry at this season of the year inthis locality. "

"I think the scouts are mistaken, General, " I said. "The Beaver hasmore water near its head than it has below. At the place where we willstrike the stream we will find immense beaver dams, big and strongenough to cross your whole command if you wish. "

"Well, go ahead, " he said. "I leave it to you. But, remember, I don'twant a dry camp. "

"No danger of that, " I returned and rode on. As I predicted, we foundwater seven or eight miles further on. Hidden in the hills was abeautiful little tributary of the Beaver. We had no trouble inselecting a fine camp with good spring water and excellent grass. Learning that the stream, which was but eight miles long, was without aname, the general took out his map, and, locating it, christened itCody's Creek, which name it still bears. 

Early the next morning we pulled out for the Beaver. As we wereapproaching the stream I rode on ahead of the advance guard in order tofind a crossing. Just as I turned a bend of the creek "Bang!" went ashot, and down went my horse, accompanied by myself. 

I disentangled myself and jumped clear of the carcass, turning my gunsloose at two Indians whom I discovered in the direction from which theshot had come. In the suddenness of it all I missed my aim. The Indiansfired two or three more shots, and I returned the compliment bywounding one of their horses. 

On the other side of the creek I saw a few lodges moving rapidly away, and also mounted warriors. They also saw me and began blazing away withtheir guns. The Indians who had killed my horse were retreating acrossthe creek, using a beaver dam for a bridge. I accelerated their pace bysending a few shots after them and also fired at the warriors acrossthe stream. I was undecided as to whether it would be best to run backto the command on foot or to retain my position. The troops, I knew, would come up in a few minutes. The sound of the firing would hastentheir arrival. 

The Indians soon saw that I was alone. They turned and charged down thehill, and were about to cross the creek and corral me when the advanceguard of the command appeared over the ridge and dashed forward to myrescue. Then the redskins whirled and made off. 

When General Carr arrived he ordered Company I to pursue the band. Iaccompanied Lieutenant Brady, who commanded the company. For severalhours we had a running fight with the Indians, capturing several oftheir horses and most of their lodges. At night we returned to thecommand, which by this time had crossed the dam. 

For several days we scouted along the river. We had two or three livelyskirmishes, but at last our supplies began to run low, and the generalordered us to return to Fort Wallace, which we reached three daysafterward. 

While the regiment remained here, waiting for orders, I spent most ofmy time hunting buffaloes. One day while I was out with a small party, fifty Indians jumped us, and we had a terrific battle for an hour. Wefinally managed to drive them off, with four of their warriors killed. With me were a number of excellent marksmen, and they did fine work, sending bullets thick and fast where they would do the most execution. 

Two or three of our horses were hit. One man was wounded. We were readyand willing to stay with the Indians as long as they would stay withus. But they gave it up at last. We finished our hunt and returned tothe Post with plenty of buffalo meat. Here we received the complimentsof General Carr on our little fight. 

In a few days orders came from General Sheridan to make a wintercampaign in the Canadian River country. We were to proceed to Fort Lyonon the Arkansas River and fit out for the expedition. Leaving FortWallace in November, 1868, we arrived at Fort Lyon in the latter partof the month, and began the work of outfitting. 

Three weeks before this, General Penrose had left the Post with acommand of three hundred men. He had taken no wagons with him. Hissupply train was composed of pack mules. General Carr was ordered tofollow with supplies on Penrose's trail and to overtake him as soon aspossible. I was particularly anxious to catch up with Penrose'scommand, as my old friend, "Wild Bill, " was among his scouts. 

For the first three days we followed the trail easily. Then we werecaught in Freeze-Out Cañon by a fearful snowstorm. This compelled us togo into camp for a day. 

It now became impossible longer to follow Penrose's trail. The groundwas covered with snow, and he had left no sign to show in whichdirection he was going. 

General Carr sent for me, and told me it was highly important that weshould not lose the trail. He instructed me to take some scouts, and, while the command remained in camp, to push on as far as possible toseek for some sign that would indicate the direction Penrose had taken. 

Accompanied by four men, I started out in a blinding snowstorm. We rodetwenty-four miles in a southerly direction till we reached a tributaryof the Cimarron. From here we scouted up and down the stream for a fewmiles, and at last turned up one of Penrose's old camps. 

It was now late in the afternoon. If the camp was to come up the nextday it was necessary for us to return immediately with our information. 

We built a fire in a sheltered spot, broiled some venison we had shotduring the day, and after a substantial meal I started back alone, leaving the others behind. 

It was eleven o'clock when I got back into camp. A light was stillburning in General Carr's tent. He was sitting up to await my return. He was overjoyed at the news I brought him. He had been extremelyanxious concerning the safety of Penrose. Rousing up his cook, heordered a hot supper for me, which, after my long, cold ride, I greatlyappreciated. I passed the night in the general's tent, and woke thenext morning fully refreshed and ready for a big day's work. 

The snow had drifted deeply overnight, and the command had a hard trampthrough it when it set out next morning for the Cimarron. In manyravines the drifts had filled in to a great depth. Often the teamstershad to shovel their way through. 

At sundown we reached the Cimarron, and went into a nice warm camp. Thenext morning, on looking around, we found that Penrose, who was notencumbered with wagons, had kept on the west side of the Cimarron. Herethe country was so rough that we could not stay on the trail withwagons. But we knew that he would continue down the river, and thegeneral gave orders to take the best route down-stream, which I foundto be on the east side. Before we could make any headway with our wagontrains we had to leave the river and get out on the divide. 

For some distance we found a good road, but suddenly we were brought upstanding on a high table-land overlooking the beautiful winding creekthat lay far below us. How to get the wagons down became a seriousproblem for the officers. 

We were in the foothills of the rough Raton Mountains. The bluff wewere on was steep and rugged. 

"Cody, " said General Carr, "we're in a nice fix now. "

"That's nothing, " I replied. 

"But you never can take the train down. "

"Never mind the train, General. You are looking for a good camp. Howdoes that valley suit you?"

"That will do, " he said. "I can easily descend with the cavalry, buthow to get the wagons down is a puzzler. "

"By the time your camp is located the wagons will be there, " I said. 

"All right, " he returned. "I'll leave it to you, inasmuch as you seemto want to be the boss. " He ordered the command to dismount and leadthe horses down the mountain. When the wagon-train, which was a mile inthe rear, came up, one of the drivers asked:

"How are we going to get down there?"

"Run down, slide down, fall down--any way to get down, " I told him. 

"We never can do it, " said another wagon-master. "It's too steep. Thewagons will run over the mules. "

"Oh, no, " I said. "The mules will have to keep out of the way. "

I instructed Wilson, the chief wagon-master, to bring up hismess-wagon. He drove the wagon to the brink of the bluff. Following mydirections, he brought out extra chains with which we locked bothwheels on each side, and then rough-locked them. 

This done, we started the wagons down the hill. The wheel-horses, orrather the wheel-mules, were good on the hold back, and we got alongbeautifully till the wagon had nearly reached the bottom of thedeclivity. Then the wagon crowded the mules so hard that they startedon the run and came galloping down into the valley to the spot GeneralCarr had selected for his camp. There was not the slightest accident. 

Three other wagons followed in the same way. In half an hour everywagon was in the camp. It was an exciting sight to see the six-muleteams come almost straight down the mountainside and finally break intoa run. At times it seemed certain that the wagon must turn a somersaultand land on the mules, but nothing of the kind happened. 

Our march proved be a lucky one so far as gaining on Penrose wasconcerned. The route he had taken on the west side of the stream wasrough and bad, and with our great wagon-train we made as many miles inone day as he had in seven. 

His command had taken a high table-land whose sides were so steep thatnot even a pack mule could make the descent, and he had been obliged toretrace the trail for a great distance, losing three days while doingso. 

The incident of this particular camp we had selected was an excitingturkey hunt. We found the trees along the river bank literally alivewith turkeys. After unsaddling the horses, two or three hundredsoldiers surrounded a grove of timber, and there was a grand turkeyround-up. Guns, clubs, and even stones were used as weapons. Of course, after the hunt we had roast turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, andturkey on toast for our fare, and in honor of the birds which hadprovided this treat we named the place Camp Turkey. 

When we left camp we had an easy trail for several days. Penrose hadtaken a southerly direction toward the Canadian River. No Indians wereto be seen, nor did we find any signs of them. 

One day, while riding in advance of the command down San FranciscoCreek, I heard some one calling my name from a little bunch of willowbrush on the opposite bank of the stream. Looking closely at the spot, I saw a colored soldier. 

"Sakes alive, Massa Bill, am dat you?" shouted the man, whom Irecognized as a member of the Tenth Cavalry. 

"Come out o' heah, " I heard him call to someone behind him. "Heah'sMassa Buffalo Bill. " Then he sang out to me: "Massa Bill, is you gotany hahdtack?"

"Nary a bit of hardtack, but the wagons will be along presently, andyou can get all you want. "

"Dat's de best news Ah's heahd fo' sixteen long days, Massa Bill. "

"Where's your command? Where's General Penrose?" I demanded. 

"Dunno, " said the darky. "We got lost, an' we's been starvin' eversince. "

By this time two other negroes had emerged from their hiding-place. They had deserted Penrose's command, which was out of rations and in astarving condition. They were trying to make their way back to old FortLyon. General Carr concluded, from what they could tell him, thatPenrose was somewhere on Polladora Creek. But nothing definite was tobe gleaned from the starving darkies, for they knew very littlethemselves. 

General Carr was deeply distressed to learn that Penrose and his menwere in such bad shape. He ordered Major Brown to start out the nextmorning with two companies of cavalry and fifty pack mules, loaded withprovisions, and to make all possible speed to reach and relieve thesuffering soldiers. I went with this detachment. On the third day outwe found the half-famished soldiers encamped on the Polladora. The camppresented a pitiful sight. For over two weeks the men had only quarterrations and were now nearly starved to death. Over two hundred muleswere lying dead, having succumbed to fatigue and starvation. 

Penrose, having no hope that he would be found, had sent back a companyof the Seventh Cavalry to Fort Lyon for supplies. As yet no word hadbeen heard from them. The rations brought by Major Brown arrived nonetoo soon. They were the means of saving many lives. 

Almost the first man I saw after reaching the camp was my true andtried friend, "Wild Bill. " That night we had a jolly reunion around thecampfires. 

When General Carr came up with his force, he took command of all thetroops, as he was the senior officer. When a good camp had beenselected he unloaded his wagons and sent them back to Fort Lyon forsupplies. He then picked out five hundred of the best men and horses, and, taking his pack-train with him, started south for the CanadianRiver. The remainder of the troops were left at the supply camp. 

I was ordered to accompany the expedition bound for the Canadian River. We struck the south fork of this stream at a point a few miles abovethe old adobe walls that were once a fort. Here Kit Carson had had abig Indian fight. 

We were now within twelve miles of a new supply depot called FortEvans, established for the Third Cavalry and Evans's expedition fromNew Mexico. 

The scouts who brought this information reported also that theyexpected the arrival of a bull-train from New Mexico with a largequantity of beer for the soldiers. 

"Wild Bill" and I determined to "lay" for this beer. That very eveningit came along, and the beer destined for the soldiers at Fort Evansnever reached them. It went straight down the thirsty throats ofGeneral Carr's command. 

The Mexicans living near Fort Evans had brewed the beer. They weretaking it to Fort Evans to sell to the troops. But it found a bettermarket without going so far. It was sold to our boys in pint cups, and, as the weather was very cold, we warmed it by putting the ends of ourpicket pins, heated red-hot, into the brew before we partook of it. Theresult was one of the biggest beer jollifications it has ever been mymisfortune to attend. 

One evening General Carr summoned me to his tent. He said he wanted tosend some scouts with dispatches to Fort Supply, to be forwarded fromthere to General Sheridan. He ordered me to call the scouts togetherand to select the men who were to go. 

I asked if I were to go, but he replied that he could not spare me. Thedistance to Camp Supply was about two hundred miles. Because of thevery cold weather it was sure to be a hard trip. None of the scoutswere at all keen about undertaking it, but it was finally settled that"Wild Bill, " "Little Geary, " a half-breed, and three other scoutsshould carry the dispatches. They took their departure the next daywith orders to return as soon, as possible. 

We scouted for several days along the Canadian River, finding no signof Indians. The general then returned to camp, and soon our wagon-trainreturned with provisions from Fort Lyon. Our animals were in poorcondition, so we remained in different camps along San Francisco Creekand on the North Fork of the Canadian till "Wild Bill" and his scoutsreturned from Fort Supply. 

Among the scouts in Penrose's command were fifteen Mexicans. Among themand the Americans a bitter feud existed. When Carr united Penrose'scommand with his own, and I was made chief of scouts, this feud grewmore intense than ever. The Mexicans often threatened to "clean usout, " but they postponed the execution of the threat from time to time. At last, however, when we were all in the sutler's store, thelong-expected fight took place, with the result that the Mexicans wereseverely beaten. 

On hearing of the row, General Carr sent for "Wild Bill" and me. Fromvarious reports he had made up his mind that we were the instigators ofthe affair. After listening to what we had to say, however, he decidedthat the Mexicans were as much to blame as we were. It is possible thatboth "Wild Bill" and I had imbibed a few more drinks than we neededthat evening. General Carr said to me:

"Cody, there are plenty of antelopes in the country. You can do somehunting while we stay here. " After that my time was spent in the chase, and I had fine success. I killed from twenty to twenty-five antelopesevery day, and the camp was supplied with fresh meat. 

When the horses and mules belonging to the outfit had been sufficientlyrecruited to travel, we returned to Fort Lyon, reaching there in March, 1869. The command recruited and rested for thirty days beforeproceeding to the Department of the Platte, whither it had beenordered. 

At my request, General Carr kindly granted me a month's leave ofabsence to visit my family in St. Louis. He instructed Captain Hays, our quartermaster, to let me ride my mule and horse to Sheridan, 140miles distant. At Sheridan I was to take the train for St. Louis. 

I was instructed to leave the animals in the quartermaster's corral atFort Wallace until I should come back. Instead of doing this, I putthem both in charge of my old friend Perry, the hotel-keeper atSheridan. 

After twenty days, pleasantly spent with my family at St. Louis, Ireturned to Sheridan. There I learned that my horse and mule had beenseized by the Government. 

The quartermaster's agent at Sheridan had reported to General Bankhead, commanding at Fort Wallace, and to Captain Laufer, the quartermaster, that I had left the country and had sold the animals to Perry. Laufertook possession of the animals, and threatened to have Perry arrestedfor buying Government property. He refused to pay any attention toPerry's statement that I would return in a few days, and that theanimals had merely been left in his care. 

As soon as I found this out I proceeded to the office of thequartermaster's agent who had told this lie, and gave him the thrashinghe richly deserved. When I had finished with him he hastened to thefort, reported what had happened, and returned with a guard to protecthim. 

Next morning, securing a horse from Perry, I rode to Fort Wallace anddemanded my horse and mule from General Bankhead. I told him they wereQuartermaster Hays's property and belonged to General Carr's command, and explained that I had obtained permission to ride them to Sheridanand return. 

General Bankhead gruffly ordered me out of his office and off thereservation, declaring that if I didn't leave in a hurry he would haveme removed by force. 

I told him he might do this and be hanged, using, very possibly, astronger expression. That night, while sleeping at the Perry House, Iwas awakened by a tap on my shoulder and was astonished to see the roomfilled with armed negro soldiers with their guns all pointed at me. Thefirst word came from the sergeant. 

"Now looka heah, Massa Bill; if you move we'll blow you off de fahm, suah!" Just then Captain Ezekial entered, and ordered the soldiers tostand back. 

"I'm sorry, Bill, " he said, when I demanded to know what this meant. "But I've been ordered by General Bankhead to arrest you and bring youto Fort Wallace. "

"All right, " said I. "But you could have made the arrest withoutbringing the whole Thirty-eighth Infantry with you. "

"I know that, Bill, but you've not been in a very good humor the lastday or two, and we didn't know how you'd act. "

I dressed hurriedly and accompanied the captain to Fort Wallace. Whenwe reached there at two o'clock in the morning the captain said:

"Bill, I'm sorry, but my orders are to put you in the guardhouse. "

I told him I did not blame him for carrying out orders, and was made aguardhouse prisoner for the first and only time in my life. Thesergeant of the guard, who was an old friend from Captain Graham'scompany, refused to put me in a cell, kindly allowing me to sleep inhis own bed, and in a few minutes I was sound asleep. 

Captain Graham called to see me in the morning. He said it was a shameto lock me up, and promised to speak to the general about it. Atguard-mount, when I was not summoned, I sent word to Captain Grahamthat I wanted to see General Bankhead. He sent back word that thegeneral refused to have anything to do with me. 

As it was impossible to send word to General Carr, I determined to senda dispatch direct to General Sheridan. I wrote out a long telegram, informing him of my difficulty. But when it was taken to the telegraphoffice for transmission the operator refused to send it at once. Instead he showed it to General Bankhead, who tore it up. When no replycame I went to the office, accompanied by a guard, and learned from theoperator what he had done. 

"See here, my young friend, " said I, "this is a public telegraph line. I want my telegram sent, or there'll be trouble. "

He knew very well it was his duty to send the dispatch. I rewrote itand gave it to him, with the money to pay for it. But before he madeany effort to transmit it he called on General Bankhead and informedhim of what I had said. Seeing that the dispatch would have to gothrough, the general sent for me. 

"If I let you go, sir, will you leave the Post at once and not botheranyone at Sheridan?" he demanded. 

"No, sir, " I replied, "I'll do nothing of the kind. I'll remain in theguardhouse till I get an answer from General Sheridan. "

"If I give you your horse and mule will you proceed at once to FortLyon?"

"No, sir; I have some bills to settle at Sheridan and some otherbusiness to transact. "

"Well, sir, will you at least promise not to interfere any further withthe quartermaster's agent at Sheridan?"

"I shall not trouble him any more, sir. I have had all I want fromhim. "

General Bankhead thereupon sent for Captain Laufer and ordered him toturn the horse and mule over to me. In a few minutes I was on my way toSheridan, and, having settled my business there, I proceeded to FortLyon, arriving there two days afterward. I related my adventures toGeneral Carr, Major Brown, and the other officers, who were highlyamused thereby. 

CHAPTER VI

When I returned to General Carr's command after my experience as aprisoner I was informed that the general had been waiting for me fortwo weeks. 

"I'm glad you've come, Bill, " said the general. "While we've been atthis Post a number of valuable animals have been stolen, as well asmany Government horses and mules. We think the thieves are still nearthe fort. Fresh tracks have been found near Fort Lyon. Perhaps BillGreen, the scout who has been up there, can tell you something aboutthem. "

Sending for Green, I found that he had marked the place where he hadlost the trail of the marauders. 

Next morning, accompanied by Green, Jack Farley, and another scout, Iset out after the horse-thieves. 

While making a circuit about the tracks we had found leading away fromthe spot where Green discovered them, we found the trail of twelveanimals--four mules and eight horses--in the edge of the sandhills. 

From this point we had no trouble in trailing them down to the ArkansasRiver. This stream they had followed toward Denver, whither they wereundoubtedly bound. 

When we got within four miles of Denver we found that the thieves hadpassed four days before. I concluded that they had decided to disposeof the animals in Denver. I was aware that Saturday was the big auctionday there, so we went to a hotel outside the town to await that day. Iwas too well known in the city to show myself there, for the thieveswould have taken alarm had they learned of my presence. 

Early Saturday morning we rode into the city and stabled our animals atthe Elephant Corral. I secured a room in a hotel overlooking thecorral, and took up a post of observation. I did not have to wait long. 

A man, whom I recognized at once as Williams, one of our old packers, rode into the ring, mounted on Lieutenant Forbush's mule, and leadinganother Government mule. This mule had been recently branded, and overthe "U. S. " a plain "D B" had been stamped. 

As the man's confederate did not appear I decided he was outside withthe rest of the stolen animals. 

When Mr. Forbush's mule was put up at auction I came down to the corraland walked through the crowd of bidders. 

The packer saw me, and tried to get away, but I seized him firmly bythe shoulder. 

"I guess, my friend, " said I, "that you'll have to go with me. Make anyresistance and I'll shoot you on the spot!"

To the auctioneer and an inquisitive officer I showed my commission asa United States detective. With Farley and Green, who were close athand, I took my prisoner three miles down the Platte. There wedismounted, and began preparations to hang our prisoner to a limb. Weinformed him that he could escape this fate only by telling us wherehis partner was hidden. 

He at first denied having any partner, but when we gave him fiveminutes to live unless he told the truth, he said his pal was in anunoccupied house three miles farther down the river. 

We took up our journey, and, coming in sight of the house, saw a numberof animals grazing near it. As we rode to the door, another of our oldpackers, whom I recognized as Bill Bevins, stepped to the front door. Iinstantly covered him with my rifle and ordered him to throw up hishands before he could draw his revolver. 

Looking through the house, we found saddles, pack-saddles, lariats, blankets, overcoats, and two Henry rifles. We returned with the wholeoutfit to Denver, where we lodged Williams and Bevins in jail. The nextday we tied each man to a mule and started on the return journey. 

At the hotel where we had stopped before making the arrests, we werejoined by our man with the pack mule. That night we camped on CherryCreek, seventeen miles from Denver. 

It was April, and the weather was cold and stormy. We found a warm andcozy camping-place in the bend of the creek. We made our beds in arow--feet to the fire. The prisoners had thus far been docile and I didnot think it necessary to hobble them. They slept inside, and it wasarranged that some one was to be constantly on guard. About one o'clockin the morning it began snowing. Shortly before three, Jack Farley, whowas on guard, and sitting at the foot of the bed with his back to theprisoners, was kicked into the fire by Williams. The next instantBevins, who had got hold of his shoes, sprang up, jumped over the fire, and started away on the run. 

As soon as I was enough awake to comprehend what was going on I sent ashot after him. Williams attempted to follow Bevins, but as he did so Iknocked him down with the butt of my revolver. Farley had by this timegot out of the fire. Green had started after Bevins, firing at him ashe ran, but the thief made his escape into the brush. 

In his flight, unfortunately for him, he dropped one of his shoes. 

Leaving Williams in charge of Farley and "Long Doc, " the man with thepack mule, Green and I struck out for Bevins. We heard him breakingthrough the brush, but, knowing it would be useless to try to followhim on foot, we went back and saddled two of the fastest horses. Atdaylight we struck out on his trail, which was plainly visible in thesnow. 

Though he had an hour and a half's start his track lay through acountry covered with prickly pear. We knew that with a bare foot hecould make little progress. We could see, however by the long jumps hewas taking, that he was making excellent time. Soon the trail becamespotted with blood, where the thorns of the prickly pear had piercedhis shoeless foot. 

After a run of twelve miles we saw Bevins crossing a ridge two milesahead. We reached the ridge just as he was descending the divide towardthe South Platte, which at this point was very deep and swift. 

If he got across the stream he stood a good chance of escape. We pushedour horses as fast as possible, and when we got within range I told himto halt or I would shoot. He knew I was a good shot, and coolly satdown to wait for us. 

"Bevins, you gave us a good chase, " I said, as we rode up. 

"Yes, " he returned calmly, "and if I'd had fifteen minutes' more startand got across the Platte you'd never have caught me. "

Bevins's flight was the most remarkable feat of its kind I have everheard of. A man who could run barefooted in the snow through aprickly-pear patch was surely a "tough one. " When I looked at the man'sbleeding foot I really felt sorry for him. He asked me for my knife, and when I gave it to him he dug the thorns out of his foot with itssharp point. I consider him the gamest man I ever met. 

I could not suffer a man with such a foot to walk, so I dismounted, andhe rode my horse back to camp, while Green and I rode the other horseby turns. We kept a close watch on our prisoner. We had had plenty ofproof that he needed it. His injured foot must have pained himfearfully, but never a word of complaint escaped him. 

After breakfasting we resumed our journey. We had no further troubletill we reached the Arkansas River, where we found a vacant cabin andtook possession of it for the night. 

There was no fear that Bevins would try to escape. His foot was swollento a great size, and was useless. Believing that Williams could not getaway from the cabin, we unbound him. 

The cabin was comfortably warmed and well-lighted by the fire. We left"Long Doc" on guard and went to sleep. 

At one o'clock Williams asked "Doc" to allow him to step to the doorfor a minute. "Doc" had his revolver in hand, and did not think itnecessary to waken us. He granted the request. With "Doc, " revolver inhand, watching him, Williams walked to the outer edge of the floor. Suddenly he made a spring to the right and was out of sight in theblack darkness before his guard could even raise his revolver. 

"Doc" leaped after him, firing just as he rounded the corner of thecabin. The report brought us all to our feet. I at once covered Bevinswith my revolver, but, seeing that he could barely stir, I lowered it. 

Then in came "Doc, " swearing a blue streak and announcing that Williamshad escaped. Nothing was left us but to gather our horses close to thecabin and stand guard the rest of the night to prevent the possibilityof our late prisoner sneaking in and getting away with one of them. This was the last I ever saw or heard of Williams, but we got back toFort Lyon with Bevins. 

Though we had lost one of our prisoners, General Carr complimented uson the success of our trip. The next day we took Bevins to Bogg'sRanch, on Picket Wire Creek, where he was to await trial. But he neverwas tried. He made his escape, as I had expected he would do. 

In 1872 I heard that he was at his old tricks on Laramie Plains. Alittle later he sent word to me that if he ever met me he would kill meon sight. Shortly thereafter he was arrested and convicted for robbery, but made his escape from Laramie City prison. Later he organized adesperate gang of outlaws which infested the country north of the UnionPacific. When, the stage began running between Cheyenne and Deadwood, these outlaws robbed coaches and passengers, often making big hauls ofplunder. Finally most of the gang were caught, tried, and convicted, and sent to the penitentiary for a number of years. Bevins was amongthe number. 

Soon after my return to Fort Lyon, the Fifth Cavalry was ordered to theDepartment of the Platte. While we were at Fort Wallace, gettingsupplies en route I passed the quarters of General Bankhead, who hadordered my arrest on the occasion of my last visit to that Post. Thegeneral sent out for me, and as I entered his office he extended hishand. 

"I hope you have no hard feelings for me, Cody, " he said. "I have justhad a talk with General Carr and Quartermaster Hays. If you had told meyou had permission to ride that horse and mule, there would have beenno trouble. "

"That's all right, General, " I said. "I don't believe yourquartermaster's agent will ever circulate any more false stories aboutme. "

"No, " said the general; "he hasn't recovered yet from the beating yougave him. "

When the command reached the north fork of the Beaver, I rode down thevalley toward the stream, and discovered a large fresh Indian trail. Ifound tracks scattered all over the valley and on both sides of thecreek, as if a large village had recently passed that way. I estimatedthere could not be less than four hundred lodges, or betweentwenty-five hundred and three thousand warriors, women, and children inthe band. 

When I reported my discovery to General Carr, he halted his regiment, and, after consulting a few minutes, ordered me to select a ravine, oras low ground as possible, so that the troops might be kept out ofsight of the Indians until we could strike the creek. 

We went into camp on the Beaver. The general ordered Lieutenant Ward totake twelve men and myself and follow up the trail for several miles. Our orders were to find out how fast the Indians were traveling. I soonmade up my mind by the frequency of their camps that they were movingslowly, hunting as they journeyed. 

After we had scouted about twelve miles, keeping our horses wellconcealed under the bank of the creek, Ward and I left our horses andcrept to a high knoll where there was a good view for some distancedown-stream. As we looked over the summit of the hill we saw a wholeIndian village, not three miles away. Thousands of ponies were grazingon the prairie. To our left, on the opposite side of the creek, two orthree parties of Indians were coming in, laden with buffalo meat. 

"This is no place for us, Lieutenant, " said I. "I think we havebusiness at the camp which must be attended to as soon as possible. "

"I agree with you, " he returned. "The quicker we get there the better. "

We came down the hill as fast as we could and joined our men. Lieutenant Ward hurriedly wrote a note and sent it to General Carr by acorporal. As the man started away on a gallop Ward said: "We willmarch, slowly back until we meet the troops. I think General Carr willsoon be here. "

A minute or two later we heard shots in the direction taken by ourcourier. Presently he came flying back around the bend of the creek, with three or four Indians in hot pursuit. The lieutenant, with hissquad of soldiers, charged upon them. They turned and ran across thestream. 

"This will not do, " said Ward, when the last redskin had disappeared. "The whole village will know the soldiers are near by. "

"Lieutenant, " said I, "give me that note. I'll take it to the general. "

He gladly handed me the dispatch. Spurring my horse, I dashed up thecreek. Soon I observed another party of Indians returning to thevillage with meat. I did not wait for them to attack me, but sent ashot after them at long range. 

In less than an hour I reached the camp and delivered the dispatch toGeneral Carr. "Boots and Saddles" was sounded, and all the troops savetwo companies, which were left to guard the supply train, were soongalloping toward the Indian camp. 

When we had ridden three miles we met Lieutenant Ward. He had run intoa party of Indian hunters. One of their number had been killed in theencounter, and one of Ward's horses had been wounded. 

At the end of five miles we came in sight of hundreds of Indians, advancing up the creek to meet us. 

They formed a complete line on our front. General Carr, who wanted tostrike their village, ordered the troops to charge, break through theline, and keep straight on. 

No doubt this movement would have been successfully executed had it notbeen for the daredevil, rattle-brained Lieutenant Schinosky, commandingCompany B. Misunderstanding the orders, he charged on the Indians onthe left, while the rest of the command swept through the line. Themain body was keeping straight on toward the village when it wasdiscovered that Schinosky and his company were surrounded by fivehundred Indians. 

To save the company, General Carr was forced to order a halt and hurryback to the rescue. During the short fight Schinosky had several menand a number of horses killed. 

Valuable time had been consumed by the rescue. Night was coming on. TheIndians were fighting desperately to keep us from reaching theirvillage, whose population, having been informed by courier of what wasgoing on, was packing up and getting away. 

During the afternoon we had all we could do to hold our own with themounted warriors. They stayed stubbornly in our front, contesting everyinch of ground. 

The wagon-train, which had been ordered to come up, had not arrived. Fearful that it had been surrounded, General Carr ordered the commandto return and look for it. We found it at nine o'clock that night, andwent into camp. 

Next morning, when we moved down the creek, not an Indian was to beseen. Village and all, they had disappeared. Two miles down the streamwe came to a spot where the village had been located. Here we foundmany articles which had been left in the hurry of flight. These wegathered up and burned. 

The trail, which we followed as rapidly as possible, led northeasttoward the Republican River. On reaching that stream a halt wasordered. Next morning at daylight we again pulled out. We gainedrapidly on the Indians, and could occasionally see them from adistance. 

About eleven o 'clock that morning, while Major Babcock was ahead withhis company, and as we were crossing a deep ravine, we were surprisedby perhaps three hundred warriors. They at once began a lively fire. Our men galloped out of the ravine to the rough prairie and returnedit. We soon succeeded in driving the enemy before us. At one time wewere so close upon them that they threw away most of their lodges andcamp equipment, and left their played-out horses behind them. For mileswe could see Indian furniture strewn in all directions. 

Soon they scattered into small bodies, dividing the trail. At night ourhorses began to give out, and a halt was called. A company was detailedto collect all the loose Indian ponies, and to burn the abandoned campequipment. 

We were now nearly out of rations. I was sent for supplies to thenearest supply point, old Fort Kearney, sixty miles distant. 

Shortly after this the command reached Fort McPherson, which for sometime thereafter continued to be the headquarters of the Fifth Cavalry. We remained there for ten days, fitting out for a new expedition. Wewere reënforced by three companies of the celebrated Pawnee IndianScouts, commanded by Major Frank North. At General Carr'srecommendation I was now made chief of scouts in the Department of thePlatte, with better pay. I had not sought this position. 

I became a firm friend of Major North and his officers from the start. The scouts had made a good reputation for themselves. They hadperformed brave and valuable services in fighting against the Sioux, whose bitter enemies they were. During our stay at Fort McPherson Imade the acquaintance of Lieutenant George P. Belden, known as "TheWhite Chief. " His life has been written by Colonel Brisbin, of thearmy. Belden was a dashing rider and an excellent shot. An hour afterour introduction he challenged me to a rifle match, which was at oncearranged. 

We were to shoot ten shots each at two hundred yards for fifty dollarsa side. Belden was to use a Henry rifle. I was to shoot my old"Lucretia. " This match I won. Belden at once proposed another, ahundred-yard match, as I was shooting over his distance. This he won. We were now even, and we stopped right there. 

While we were at Fort McPherson, General Augur andBrevet-Brigadier-General Thomas Duncan, colonel of the Fifth Cavalry, paid us a visit for the purpose of reviewing our command. The menturned out in fine style, and showed themselves to be well-drilledsoldiers. Next the Pawnee scouts were reviewed. It was amusing to seethem in their full uniform. They had been supplied with the regularcavalry uniform, but on this occasion some of them had heavy overcoats, others large black hats with all the brass accoutrements attached; somewere minus trousers and wore only breech-clouts. Some had regulationpantaloons, but only shirts. Part of them had cut the breech of theirpantaloons away, leaving only the leggings. Still others had big brassspurs, but wore no boots nor moccasins. 

But they understood the drill remarkably well for Indians. The commandswere given them by Major North, who spoke their tongue as readily asany full-blooded Pawnee. They were well mounted, and felt proud of thefact that they were regular United States soldiers. That evening afterthe drill many ladies attended the dance of the Indians. Of all savagesI have ever seen, the Pawnees are the most accomplished dancers. 

Our command set out on the trail the next day. Shortly afterward, whenwe were encamped on the Republican River near the mouth of the Beaver, we heard the yells of Indians, followed by shots, in the vicinity ofour mule herd, which had been driven down to water. 

Presently one of the herders, with an arrow still quivering in hisflesh, came dashing into the camp. 

My horse was close at hand. Mounting him bareback, I galloped after themule herd, which had been stampeded. I supposed that I would be thefirst man on the scene. But I found I was mistaken. The Pawnee scouts, unlike regular soldiers, had not waited for the formality of ordersfrom their officers. Jumping their ponies bareback and putting ropes inthe animals' mouths, they had hurried to the place from which the shotscame and got there before I did. 

The marauders proved to be a party of fifty or more Sioux, who hadendeavored to stampede our animals. They were painfully surprised tofind their inveterate enemies, the Pawnees, coming toward them at fullgallop. They had no idea the Pawnees were with the command. They knewthat it would take regular soldiers a few minutes to turn out, andfancied they would have plenty of time to stampede the herd and getaway. 

In a running fight of fifteen or twenty miles several of the Sioux werekilled. I was mounted on an excellent horse Colonel Royal had selectedfor me. For the first mile or two I was in advance of the Pawnees. Soona Pawnee shot past me. I could not help admiring the horse he wasriding. I determined that if possible that horse should be mine. He wasa big buckskin, or yellow horse. I took a careful look at him, so as torecognize him when we got back to camp. 

After the chase was over I rode over to Major North and asked him aboutthe animal. I was told that he was one of the favorite steeds of thecommand. 

"What chance is there to trade for him?" I asked. 

"It is a Government horse, " replied the Major. "The Indian who rideshim is very much attached to him. "

I told Major North I had fallen in love with the horse, and asked if hehad any objections to my trying to secure him. He replied that he hadnot. A few days later, after making the Indian several presents, Ipersuaded him to trade horses with me. In this way I became possessedof the buckskin, although he still remained Government property. Inamed him Buckskin Joe, and he proved to be a second Brigham. 

I rode him during the summers of '69, '70, '71, and '72. He was thehorse ridden by the Grand Duke Alexis on his buffalo hunt. In thewinter of '72, after I had left Fort McPherson, Buckskin Joe wascondemned and sold at public sale to Dave Perry at North Platte. In1877 he presented him to me. He remained on my ranch on the DismalRiver for many years, stone blind, until he died. 

At the end of twenty days, after a few unimportant running fights, wefound ourselves back to the Republican River. 

Hitherto the Pawnee scouts had not taken much interest in me. But whileat the camp I gained their respect and admiration by showing them howto kill buffaloes. Though they were excellent buffalo killers, forIndians, I had never seen them kill more than four or five animals inone run. A number of them would surround a herd and dash in on it, eachone killing from one to four buffaloes. I had gone out in company withMajor North, and watched them make a "surround. " Twenty Pawnees, circling a herd, killed thirty-two buffaloes. 

As they were cutting up the animals, another herd appeared. The Pawneeswere getting ready to surround it, when I asked Major North to keepthem back to let me show them what I could do. He did as I requested. Iknew Buckskin Joe was a good buffalo horse, and, feeling confident thatI would astonish the Indians, I galloped in among the herd. I didastonish them. In less than a half-mile run I dropped thirty-six, killing a buffalo at nearly every shot. The dead animals were strungout over the prairie less than fifty feet apart. This manner of killinggreatly pleased the Indians. They called me "Big Chief, " and thereafterI had a high place in their esteem. 

We soon left the camp and took a westward course up the RepublicanRiver. Major North, with two companies of his Pawnees, and ColonelRoyal, with two or three companies of cavalry, made a scout north ofthe river. 

After making camp on the Blacktail Deer Fork we observed a band ofIndians coming over the prairie at full gallop, singing and yelling andwaving their lances and long poles. We first supposed them to be thehostile Sioux, and for a few moments all was excitement. But thePawnees, to our surprise, made no effort to go out to attack them. Presently they began singing themselves. Major North walked over toGeneral Carr and said:

"General, those are our men. They had had a fight. That is the way theyact when they come back from battle with captured scalps. "

The Pawnees came into camp on the run. We soon learned that they hadrun across a party of Sioux who were following a big Indian trail. TheSioux had evidently been in a fight. Two or three had been wounded, andwere being carried by the others. The Pawnees "jumped" them, and killedthree or four of their number. 

Next morning our command came up to the Indian trail where the Siouxhad been found. We followed it for several days. From the number ofcampfires we passed we could see that we were gaining on the Sioux. 

Wherever they had camped we found the print of a woman's shoe. Thismade us all the more eager to overtake them, for it was plain that theyhad a white woman as their captive. 

All the best horses were selected by the general, and orders were givenfor a forced march. The wagon-train was to follow as rapidly aspossible, while the command pushed on ahead. 

I was ordered to pick out five or six of the best Pawnees and proceedin advance of the command, keeping ten or twelve miles ahead, so thatwhen the Indians were overtaken we could learn the location of theircamp, and give the troops the required information in time to plan aneffective attack. 

When we were ten miles in advance of the regiment we began to movecautiously. We looked carefully over the summits of the hills beforeexposing ourselves to observation from the front. At last we made outthe village, encamped in the sandhills south of the South Platte Riverat Summit Springs. 

Here I left the Pawnees to watch, while I rode back to the command andinformed General Carr that the Indians were in sight. 

The men were immediately ordered to tighten their saddles and otherwiseto prepare for action. I changed my horse for old Buckskin Joe. He hadbeen led for me up to this time, and was comparatively fresh. Acting onmy suggestion, General Carr made a circuit to the north. I knew that ifthe Indians had scouts out they would naturally watch in the directionwhence they had come. When we had passed the camp, and were between itand the river, we turned and started back. 

By this maneuver we avoided detection by the Sioux scouts. The generalkept the command wholly out of sight until within a mile of thevillage. Then the advance guard was halted till all the soldiers caughtup. Orders were issued that at the sound of the charge the wholecommand was to rush into the village. 

As we halted on the summit of the hill overlooking the stillunsuspecting Sioux, General Carr called to his bugler:

"Sound the charge!"

The bugler, in his excitement, forgot the notes of the call. Again thegeneral ordered "Sound the charge!" and again the musician was unableto obey the command. 

Quartermaster Hays, who had obtained permission to join the command, comprehended the plight of the bugler. Rushing up to him, he seized thebugle, and sounded the call himself, in clear, distinct tones. As thetroops rushed forward he threw the bugle away, and, drawing his pistol, was among the first to enter the village. The Indians had just drivenup their horses and were preparing to move camp when they saw thesoldiers. 

Many of them jumped on their ponies, and, leaving everything behindthem, advanced to meet the attack. On second thought, however, theydecided it would be useless to resist. Those who were mounted rodeaway, while those on foot fled for the neighboring hills. We chargedthrough their village, shooting right and left at everything we saw. Pawnees, officers, and regular soldiers were all mixed together, whilethe Sioux went flying away in every direction. 

The general had instructed the soldiers to keep a sharp look-out forwhite women when they entered the village. Two were soon found. One ofthem was wounded, and the other had just been killed. Both were Swedes, and the survivor could not speak English. 

A Swedish soldier was soon found to act as interpreter. The woman'sname was Weichel. She said that as soon as the Indians saw the troopscoming, a squaw, the wife of Tall Bull, had killed Mrs. Alerdice, hercompanion in captivity, with a hatchet. The infuriated squaw hadattacked Mrs. Weichel, wounding her. The purpose of the squaw wasapparently to prevent both women from telling the soldiers how cruellythey had been treated. 

The attack lasted but a little while. The Indians were driven severalmiles away. The soldiers gathered in the herd of Indian horses, whichwas running wild over the prairie, and drove the animals back intocamp. After a survey of our work we found we had killed about onehundred and forty Indians and captured one hundred and twenty squawsand papooses, two hundred lodges, and eight hundred horses and mules. 

General Carr ordered that all the tepees, lodges, buffalo robes, campequipage, and provisions, including a large quantity of buffalo meat, should be gathered and burned. Mrs. Alerdice, the murdered Swedishcaptive, was buried. Captain Kane read the burial service, as we had nochaplain with us. While this was going on, the Sioux warriors recoveredfrom their panic and came back to give us battle. All around the attacka fight began. I was on the skirmish line, and noticed an Indian whowas riding a large bay horse, and giving orders to his men in his ownlanguage. 

I could understand part of what he said. He was telling them that theyhad lost everything and were ruined, and was entreating them to followhim until they died. The horse this chief was riding was extremelyfleet. I determined to capture him if possible, but I was afraid tofire at the rider lest I kill the horse. 

Often the Indian, as he rode around the skirmish line, passed the headof a ravine. It occurred to me that if I dismounted and crept up theravine, I could, as he passed, easily drop him from the saddle with nofear of hitting the horse. Accordingly I crept into the ravine andsecreted myself there to wait till Mr. Chief came riding by. 

When he was not more than thirty yards away I fired. The next instanthe tumbled from the saddle, and the horse kept on his way without arider. Instead of running back to the Indians, he galloped toward thesoldiers, by one of whom he was caught. 

Lieutenant Mason, who had been very conspicuous in the fight and hadkilled two or three Indians himself, came galloping up the ravine, and, jumping from his horse, secured the elaborate war-bonnet from the headof the dead chief, together with all his other accoutrements. 

We both rejoined the soldiers. I started in search of the horse, andfound him in the possession of Sergeant McGrath, who had captured him. McGrath knew that I had been trying to get the horse, and he had seenme kill its rider. He handed the animal over to me at once. I littlethought at the time that I had captured the fastest running horse westof the Missouri River, but this later proved to be the fact. 

Late that evening our wagon-train arrived. Mrs. Weichel, the woundedwoman, had been carefully attended by the surgeons, and we placed herin the ambulance. Gathering up the prisoners, squaws, and papooses, weset out for the South Platte River, eight miles distant, where we wentinto camp. 

Next morning, by order of General Carr, all the money found in thevillage was turned over to the adjutant. Above two thousand dollars wascollected, and the entire amount was given to Mrs. Weichel. 

The command now proceeded to Fort Sedgwick, from which point theparticulars of our fight, which took place Sunday, July 11, 1869, wastelegraphed to all parts of the country. 

During our two weeks' stay at this Post, General Augur, of theDepartment of the Platte, made us a visit, and complimented the commandhighly on the gallant service it had performed. Tall Bull and hisIndians had long been a terror to the border settlements. For theircrushing defeat, and the killing of the chief, General Carr and thecommand were complimented in General Orders. 

Mrs. Weichel was cared for in the Post hospital. After her recovery shemarried the hospital steward. Her former husband had been killed by theIndians. Our prisoners were sent to the Whetstone Agency, on theMissouri, where Spotted Tail and the friendly Sioux were then living. The captured horses and mules were distributed among the officers andsoldiers. 

Among the animals which I thus obtained were my Tall Bull horse and apony which I called Powder Face. This animal figured afterward in thestories of "Ned Buntline, " and became famous. 

One day, while we were waiting at Fort McPherson, General Carr receiveda telegram announcing that the Indians had made a dash on the UnionPacific, killing several section men and running off stock ofO'Fallen's Station. An expedition was going out of Fort McPherson tocatch and punish the redskins if possible. 

I was ordered by General Carr to accompany this expedition. That nightI proceeded by rail to Fort McPherson Station, and from there rodehorseback to the fort. Two companies, under command of Major Brown, hadbeen ordered out. Next morning, as we were about to start, Major Brownsaid to me:

"By the way, Cody, we're going to have a character with us on thisscout. It's old 'Ned Buntline, ' the novelist. "

At the same time I saw a stoutly built man near by who wore a bluemilitary coat. On his breast were pinned perhaps twenty badges ofsecret societies and gold medals. He limped a little as he approachedme, and I concluded that this must be the novelist. 

"He has a good mark to shoot at on his left breast, " I said to Brown, "but he looks like a soldier. " I was introduced to him by his realname, which was Colonel E. Z. C. Judson. 

"I was to deliver a temperance lecture tonight, " said my newacquaintance, "but no lecture for me when there is a prospect of afight. The major has offered me a horse, but I don't know how I shallstand the ride. "

I assured him that he would soon feel at home in the saddle, and we setout. The command headed for the North Platte, which had been swollen bymountain rains. In crossing we had to swim our horses. Buntline was thefirst man across. 

We reached O'Fallen's Station at eleven o'clock. In a short time Isucceeded in finding an Indian trail. The party of Indians, which hadcome up from the south, seemed to be a small one. We followed the trackof the Indians, to the North Platte, but they had a start of two days. Major Brown soon abandoned the pursuit, and returned to Fort Sedgwick. During this short scout, Buntline had plied me with questions. He wasanxious to go out on the next scout with me. 

By this time I had learned that my horse, Tall Bull, was a remarkablyfast runner. Therefore, when Lieutenant Mason, who owned a racer, challenged me to a race, I immediately accepted. We were to run ourhorses a single dash of a half mile for five hundred dollars a side. 

Several of the officers, as well as Rube Wood, the post-trader, offeredto make side bets with me. I took them up until I had my last cent onTall Bull. 

I saw from the start that it would be easy to beat the lieutenant'shorse, and kept Tall Bull in check, so that no one might know how fasthe really was. I won easily, and pocketed a snug sum. Everybody was nowtalking horse race. Major Brown said that if Tall Bull could beat thePawnees' fast horse, I could break his whole command. 

The next day all the troops were paid off, including the Pawnees. Fortwo or three days our Indian allies did nothing but run horses, as allthe lately captured animals had to be tested to determine which was theswiftest. Finally the Pawnees offered to run their favorite againstTall Bull. They raised three hundred dollars to bet on their horse, andI covered the money. In addition I took numerous side bets. The racewas a single dash of a mile. Tall Bull won without any trouble, and Iwas ahead on this race about seven hundred dollars. 

I also got up a race for my pony, Powder Face, against a fast ponybelonging to Major Lute North, of the Pawnee Scouts. I selected a smallboy living at the Post for a jockey, Major North rode his own pony. ThePawnees, as usual, wanted to bet on their pony, but as I had not yetascertained the running qualities of Powder Face I did not care to riskmuch on him. Had I known him as well as I did afterward I would havebacked him with every cent I had. He proved to be one of the swiftestponies I ever saw, and had evidently been kept as a racer. 

The dash between the ponies was to be four hundred yards. When I ledPowder Face over the course he seemed to understand what he was therefor. North was on his pony; my boy was up. I had all I could do to holdthe fiery little fellow back. He was so lively on his feet that Ifeared his young rider might not be able to stick on his back. 

At last the order to start was given by the judges. I brought PowderFace up to the score, and the word "Go!" was given. So swiftly did hejump away that he left his rider sitting on the ground. Nevertheless hewent through and won the race without a rider. It was an easy victory, and after that I could get no more races. 

General Carr having obtained a leave of absence, Colonel Royal wasgiven command of an expedition that was ordered to go out after theIndians. In a few days we set out for the Republican, where, we hadlearned, there were plenty of Indians. 

At Frenchman's Fork we discovered a village, but did not surprise it, for the Indians had seen us approaching and were in retreat as wereached their camping-place. 

We chased them down-stream and through the sandhills, but they madebetter time than we did, and the pursuit was abandoned. 

While we were in the sandhills, scouting the Niobrara country, thePawnee Indians brought into camp some very large bones, one of whichthe surgeon of the expedition pronounced to be the thigh bone of ahuman being. The Indians said the bones were those of a race of peoplewho long ago had lived in that country. They said these people werethree times the size of a man of the present day, that they were soswift and strong that they could run by the side of a buffalo, and, taking the animal in one arm, could tear off a leg and eat it as theyran. 

These giants, said the Indians, denied the existence of a Great Spirit. When they heard the thunder or saw the lightning, they laughed anddeclared that they were greater than either. This so displeased theGreat Spirit that he caused a deluge. The water rose higher and highertill it drove these proud giants from the low grounds to the hills andthence to the mountains. At last even the mountaintops were submergedand the mammoth men were drowned. 

After the flood subsided, the Great Spirit came to the conclusion thathe had made men too large and powerful. He therefore corrected hismistake by creating a race of the size and strength of the men of thepresent day. This is the reason, the Indians told us, that the man ofmodern times is small and not like the giants of old. The story hasbeen handed down among the Pawnees for generations, but what is itsorigin no man can say. 

CHAPTER VII

One morning, in the spring of 1870, a band of horse-stealing Indiansraided four ranches near the mouth of Fremont Creek, on the NorthPlatte. After scooping up horses from these ranches they proceeded tothe Fort McPherson herd, which was grazing above the Post, and tookabout forty Government animals. Among these was my favorite littlepony, Powder Face. 

When the alarm was given, "Boots and Saddles" was sounded. I alwayskept one of my best horses by me, and was ready for any surprise. Thehorse that I saddled that day was Buckskin Joe. 

As I galloped for the herd, I saw the Indians kill two of the herders. Then, circling all the horses toward the west, they disappeared over arange of hills. I hurried back to the camp and told the general that Iknew where to pick up the trail. Company I, commanded by a littlered-headed chap--Lieutenant Earl D. Thomas--was the first to report, mounted, at the adjutant's office. Thomas had but lately graduated fromWest Point. 

His sole instructions were: "Follow Cody and be off quick. " As he rodeaway General Emory called after him: "I will support you with moretroops as fast as they are saddled. "

The lieutenant followed me on the run to the spot where I saw theIndians disappear. Though the redskins had an hour and a half start onus, we followed them, on a gallop, till we could see that they hadbegun to drive their horses in a circle, and then in one directionafter another, making the trail uncertain. It was getting dark, but Isucceeded in keeping on some of the tracks. 

All that night the Indians endeavored, by scattering their horses, tothrow us off the trail. At three o'clock in the morning I made up mymind that they were traveling for the headwaters of Medicine Creek, andheaded straight in that direction. 

We found that they had reached the creek, but remained there only longenough to water their horses. Then they struck off to the southwest. Iinformed Lieutenant Thomas that the next water was at the Springs atthe head of Red Willow Creek, thirty-five miles away. The Indians, Isaid, would stop there. 

Thomas's men had not had time to bring so much as their coats withthem. At the alarm they grabbed their sidearms and carbines andammunition belts, and leaped into their saddles. None of us had hadanything to eat since dinner the day before. In the whole outfit therewas not a canteen in which to carry water. 

I notified Thomas that he must decide whether the troop was to undergothe terrible hardship of riding a whole day without food or water, onthe chance of overtaking the Indians and getting their rations andsupplies away from them. He replied that the only instructions he hadreceived from General Emory were to follow me. I said that if it wereleft to me, I would follow the Indians. 

"You have heard Cody, " said Thomas to his men. "Now, I would like tohear what you men think about it. "

Through their first sergeant they said they had followed Cody on many along trail, and were willing to follow him to the end of this one. Sothe order to mount was given, and the trail was taken up. Several timesthat day we found the Indians had resorted to their old tactics ofgoing in different directions. They split the herd of horses inbunches, and scattered them. It was very hard to trail them at goodspeed. 

Forty hours without food, and twelve hours without water, we halted fora council when darkness set in. 

I told Thomas that when we got within three miles of the Springs themen could rest their horses and get a little sleep, while I pushed onahead to look for the Indians. This was done. When we reached the spotI had designated the saddles were removed, so that the horses couldgraze and roll. I rode on ahead. 

As I had suspected I should, I found the Indians encamped at theSprings with the stock grazing around them. As quickly as possible Igot back to the command with my news. The horses were quietly saddledand we proceeded, seldom speaking or making any noise. 

As we rode along I gave the lieutenant and first sergeant thedescription of the camp and suggested that it could be best approachedjust at daylight. We had but forty-one men. Ten of these, I said, should be detailed to take charge of the herd, while the lieutenant andI charged the camp. 

The Indians were encamped on a little knoll, around which was miryground, making a cavalry charge difficult. The Indians numbered as manyas we did. The safest plan was to dismount some of the men, leavingothers to hold the horses, and proceed to the attack on foot. The restof the men were to remain with their horses, and get through, themarshy ground mounted, if they could. 

A halt was called, and this was explained to the men. It didn't takethem long to understand. We approached very cautiously till we gotwithin a quarter of a mile of the Indians. Then the charge was sounded. We did not find the land as miry as we had supposed. Dashing in amongthe Indians, we completely surprised them. Most of them grabbed theguns, with which they always slept, and fled to the marsh below thecamp. Others ran for their horses. It was fortunate that we haddismounted ten men. These were able to follow the Indians who hadescaped to marsh. 

When we made the charge my chief thought was to keep a lookout for mypony, Powder Pace. Soon I saw an Indian, mounted on him, making hisescape. I rushed through the camp, shooting to the left and right, butkeeping a beeline after Powder Face and his rider. Soon another Indianwho was afoot leaped up behind Powder Face's rider. I knew that thelittle animal was very swift for a short distance, but that he would bebadly handicapped by the weight of two men. 

I realized that my old Buckskin Joe was tired but his staying qualitieswere such that I was sure he would overtake Powder Face, carryingdouble weight. 

Though I was not a hundred yards behind the object of my pursuit whenthe second Indian mounted I was afraid to shoot. It was not yet quitedaylight. I feared to fire lest I hit my beloved pony. For two miles Ifollowed through the sandhills before I dared to use my rifle. 

The Indian riding at the rear had a revolver with which he kept bangingaway, but I paid little attention to him. I knew a man shooting behindwith a pistol was likely to hit nothing but air. At last I took asteady aim while old Joe was running smoothly. The bullet not only hitthe rear man, but passed through him and killed the man in front. 

They both fell. I took another shot to make sure they were not playing'possum. As they fell, Powder Face stopped and looked around, to learnwhat it was all about. I called to him, and he came up to me. 

Both Indians were wearing beautiful war-bonnets, of which I tookpossession, as well as of their fancy trappings. Then, taking PowderFace by the rope, I led him back to the Springs to see how thelieutenant had made out. 

The herd of horses was held and surrounded by a few soldiers. The restwere still popping at the Indians. But most of the redskins were eitherhidden among the marshes, or had got clear away to the surroundinghills. 

I found the lieutenant, and told him I thought we had accomplished allthat was possible. The orderly sounded the recall. I have never seen amuddier set of boys than those who came out of the marsh and beganrummaging around the Indian camp. We soon discovered two or threehundred pounds of dried meat--buffalo, deer, and antelope, also alittle coffee and sugar and an old kettle and tin cups which theIndians had used. 

All the men by this time had all the water they wanted. Each waschewing a piece of dried meat. Pickets were posted to prevent asurprise. Soon coffee was ready. In a short time everybody was filledup, and I told Thomas we had better be getting out of there. 

Many of the men began saddling the stolen horses, so as to rest theirown. The lieutenant was eager to remain and rest until thereënforcements that General Emory had promised should arrive. 

"Your orders were to follow me, weren't they?" I asked. 

"Yes. "

"Well, then, keep on following me, and you'll soon see the reason forgetting out of here. "

"All right, " he agreed. "I've heard the general say that in a tightplace your directions should always be followed. "

With most of the men driving the captured horses we started for FortMcPherson. I didn't take the trail that we had followed in. I knew of ashorter route, and besides, I didn't want to meet the support that wascoming. I knew the officer in command, and was sure that if he came uphe would take all the glory of the capture away from Lieutenant Thomas. Naturally I wanted all the credit for Thomas and myself as we wereentitled to. 

The soldiers that had been sent out after us found and destroyed thevillage, but we did not meet them. They discovered seven or eight deadIndians, and there were a few more down in the marsh which theyoverlooked. The major in command sent out scouts to find our trail. Texas Jack, who was on this duty, returned and reported that he hadfound it, and that we were going back to the fort by another route. 

The major said: "That's another of those tricks of Cody's. He willguide Thomas back and he will get all the glory before I can overtakehim. "

We rode into Fort McPherson about six o'clock that evening. I toldThomas to make his report immediately, which he did. General Emorycomplimented him highly, and Thomas generously said that all he did wasto obey orders and follow Cody. A report was made to General Sheridan, and the next day that officer wired Thomas his congratulations. 

The next day the command that was sent out after us returned to thefort. The major was hotter than a wounded coyote. He told the generalthat it was all my fault, and that he did not propose to be treated inany such manner by any scout, even if it were General Sheridan's pet, Buffalo Bill. He was told by the general that the less he said aboutthe matter the better it would be for him. This was Lieutenant Thomas'sfirst raid, and he was highly elated with its success. He hoped hewould be mentioned for it in Special Orders, and sure enough, when theSpecial Orders came along both he and myself, together with the littlecommand, received complimentary mention. This Thomas richly deserved, for he was a brave, energetic, and dashing officer. I gave him the twowar-bonnets I had taken from the Indians I shot from the back of PowderFace, asking that he present them to the daughters of General Augur, who were then visiting the Post. 

Shortly after our return another expedition was organized, with theRepublican River country as its destination. It was commanded byGeneral Duncan, a blusterer, but a jolly old fellow. The officers whoknew him well said we would have a fine time, as he was very fond ofhunting. He was a good fighter. It was rumored that an Indian's bulletcould never hurt him. A cannon-ball, according to report, had hit himin the head without injuring him at all, while another cannon-ball, glancing off his skull, had instantly killed one of the toughest mulesin the army!

The Pawnee scouts, who had been mustered out of service during thewinter of 1869 and '70, were reorganized to accompany this expedition. I was glad of this. I had become very much attached to Major North, oneof the officers, and to many of the Indians. Beside myself the onlywhite scout we had in the Post at this time was John Y. Nelson, whoseIndian name was Cha-Sha-Cha-Opeyse, or Red-Willow-Fill-the-Pipe. Theman was a character. He had a squaw wife and a half-breed family. Hewas a good fellow, but had few equals and no superiors as a liar. 

With the regimental band playing "The Girl I Left Behind Me" we startedout from the Post. A short march brought us to the head of Fox Creek, where we camped. Next morning General Duncan sent me word that I was tobring my rifle and shoot at a mark with him. I did not feel likeshooting at anything except myself, for the night before I had beeninterviewing the sutler's store, in company with Major Brown. When Ilooked for my gun, I found that I had left it behind me. I got coldconsolation from Major Brown when I informed him of my loss. Then Itold him that the general had sent for me to shoot a match with him, and that if the old man discovered my predicament there would betrouble. 

"Well, Cody, " said the major, "the best thing you can do is to makesome excuse, and then go and borrow a gun from one of the men. Tell thegeneral you loaned your rifle to someone for a hunt. While you are goneI will send back to the Post for it. "

I got a gun from John Nelson, and marched to the general'sheadquarters, where I shot the match. It resulted in his favor. 

General Duncan, who had never before commanded the Pawnee Scouts, confused them by posting the guards in a manner that was new to them. Furthermore, he insisted that the guards should call the hours throughthe night: "Nine o'clock and all is well, " etc. , giving the numbers oftheir posts. Few of the scouts understood English. They were greatlytroubled. 

Major North explained to them that when the man on the post nearestthem called the hour, they must repeat the call as closely as theycould. It was highly amusing to hear them do this. They would try toremember what the man on the next post had said. For example, when awhite soldier called out "Post Number One, Half-past Nine and all iswell!" the Indians would cry out "Poss Number half-pass five cents goto h--l I don't care. " So ridiculous were their efforts to repeat thecalls, that the general finally gave it up and countermanded the order. 

One day, after an uneventful march, Major North and I went out onPrairie Dog Creek in advance of the command to kill some buffaloes. Night was approaching, and we looked about for a suitable camping-placefor the soldiers. Major North dismounted and was resting, while I rodedown to the creek to see if there was plenty of grass in the vicinity. 

I found an excellent camping spot, and told North I would ride over thehill a little way, so that the advance guard might see me. This I did, and when the advance guard came in sight I dismounted and lay down uponthe grass to rest. 

Suddenly I heard three or four shots. In a moment Major North camedashing toward me, pursued by eight or ten Indians. I at once sprang tothe saddle and sent several shots toward the Indians, fifty or more ofwhom were now in sight. Then, we turned our horses and ran. 

The bullets sang after us. My whip was shot from my hand, and thedaylight was let through the crown of my hat. We were in closequarters, when Lieutenant Valknar, with several men, came galloping toour relief. The Indians, discovering them, whirled and fled. 

As soon as Major North sighted his Pawnees he began riding in a circle, which was the signal to them that there were hostile Indians in front. In an instant they broke ranks pell-mell, with the major at their head, and went after the flying warriors. 

The second day that we had been following the Indians we came upon anold squaw who had been left on the prairie to die. Her people had builtfor her a little shade or lodge, and had given her someprovisions--enough to last her trip to the Happy Hunting-Grounds. Thisis often done by the Indians when an enemy is in pursuit and one oftheir number becomes too feeble to keep pace with the flight. 

Our scout, John Nelson, recognized the squaw as a relative of hisIndian wife. From her we learned that the redskins we were pursuingwere known as the Pawnee Killer band. They had lately killed Buck'ssurveying party, consisting of eight or nine men. This massacre hadoccurred a few days before on Beaver Creek. We had found a number ofsurveying instruments in the abandoned camp, and knew therefore thatthe Indians had had a fight with white men. After driving the Indiansacross the Platte we returned to Fort McPherson, bringing with us theold squaw, who was sent to the Spotted Tail Agency. 

During my absence my wife had given birth to a son. Though he wasseveral weeks old when I returned no name had been given him. I calledhim Elmo Judson, in honor of Colonel Judson, whose pen name was "NedBuntline. " But the officers insisted upon calling him Kit Carson Codyand it was finally settled that this should be his name. 

Shortly after my return I received orders instructing me to accompanyProfessor Marsh on a fossil-hunting expedition into the rough lands ofthe Big Horn Basin. The party was to consist of a number of scientistsbesides Professor Marsh, together with twenty-five students from Yale, which institution was sending out the expedition. 

I was to get together thirty-five saddle-horses for the party. Thequartermaster arranged for the transportation, pack mules, etc. ButGeneral Sheridan, under whose direction the scientists were proceeding, always believed in my ability to select good horses from aquartermaster's herd. 

In a few days Professor Marsh and his companions arrived. The PawneeScouts, then in camp, had a year before unearthed some immense fossilbones, so it was decided that Major North, with a few of these scouts, should also accompany the expedition. Professor Marsh had heard of thisdiscovery, and was eager to find some of the same kind of fossils. 

Professor Marsh believed that the Basin would be among the last of theWestern lands to be settled. The mountain wall which surrounded itwould turn aside pioneers going to Montana or northern Oregon. Thesewould head to the east of Big Horn Mountains, while those bound forUtah, Idaho, and California would go to the south side of the WindRiver Mountains. He was confident, however, that some day the Basinwould be settled and developed, and that in its fertile valleys wouldbe found the most prosperous people in the world. It was there that myinterest in the great possibilities of the West was aroused. 

I never forgot what I heard around the campfire. In 1894 the CareyIrrigation Act was passed by Congress. A million acres of land wasgiven to each of the arid States. I was the first man to receive aconcession of two hundred thousand acres from the Wyoming State LandBoard. 

I could not get away to the Basin till late in the autumn of 1894, so Iformed a partnership with George T. Beck, who proceeded to Wyoming, where he was found by Professor Elwood Mead, then in the service of theState. There a site was located and the line of an irrigation canal wassurveyed. 

A town was laid out along the canal, and my friends insisted uponnaming it Cody. At this time there was no railroad in the Big HornBasin; but shortly afterward the Burlington sent a spur out from itsmain line, with Cody as its terminus. In 1896 I went out on a scout tolocate the route of a wagon road from Cody into the Yellowstone Park. This was during Mr. McKinley's first administration. 

I went to Washington, saw the President, and explained to him thepossibilities of a road of eighty miles, the only one entering theNational Park from the East. It would be, I told him, the mostwonderful scenic road in the West. Mr. Roosevelt ordered the buildingof this road, which has now become the favorite automobile route intothe Park. Today the Big Horn Basin is one of the richest of Americanoil lands, and the Pennsylvania of the West for coal production. Everyone of the prophecies that Professor Marsh made to us around thatcampfire has come true. 

In December, 1870, I was sent as a witness to Fort D. A. Russell, nearthe city of Cheyenne, where a court-martial was to be held. Beforeleaving home my wife had given me a list of articles she needed for thefurnishing of our house. These I promised to purchase in Cheyenne. 

On arriving at Fort Russell I found many officers, also witnesses atthe court-martial, and put in most of my time with them. A postponementof a week gave us an opportunity to "do" Cheyenne. That town furnishedabundant opportunities for entertainment, as there was every kind ofgame in operation, from roulette to horse-racing. I sent for my horse, Tall Bull, and a big race was arranged between him and a Cheyennefavorite called Green's Colt. But before Tall Bull could arrive thecourt-martial was over and the race was off. I sold the animal toLieutenant Mason. I met many old friends in Cheyenne, among them R. S. Van Tassell, Tim Dier, Major Talbot, Luke Morrin, Posey Wilson, andmany others. They constituted a pretty wild bunch, and kept me so busythat I had no time to think about Mrs. Cody's furniture. 

On my return, when she asked us for it, I told her I couldn't bring itwith me on the train, and that moreover there were no stores inCheyenne where I could get furniture that would be good enough for her, so I had sent to Dewey & Stone at Omaha for what she needed. 

I lost no time in getting over to the club, where I wrote to Dewey &Stone for all the articles my wife required. In a week the furniturearrived at Fort McPherson station. I got a couple of six-mule teams andwent after it quick. When it arrived at the house and was unpacked Mrs. Cody was greatly delighted. 

About this time General Emory was very much annoyed by petty offensesin the vicinity of the Post by civilians over whom he had nojurisdiction. There was no justice of the peace near the Post, and hewanted some kind of an officer with authority to attend to thesetroublesome persons. One day he told me that I would make an excellentjustice. 

"You compliment me too highly, General, " I replied. "I don't know anymore about law than a Government mule knows about bookkeeping. " "Thatdoesn't make any difference, " he said. "I know you will make a goodsquire. You accompany Mr. Woodin and Mr. Snell to North Platte in myprivate ambulance. They will go on your bond, and you will be appointeda justice of the peace. "

A number of officers from the Post went to North Platte for thisoccasion. After I was duly sworn in, there was a celebration. I arrivedhome at three o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Cody still being inignorance of my newly acquired honor. I was awakened by hearing herarguing with a man at the door who was asking for the squire. She wasassuring him that no squire was on the premises. 

"Doesn't Buffalo Bill live here?" asked the man. 

"Yes, " admitted Mrs. Cody, "but what has that got to do with it?"

By this time I had dressed, and I went to the door. I informed my wife, to her amazement, that I was really a squire, and turned to the visitorto learn his business. 

He was a poor man, he said, on his way to Colorado. The night before alarge bunch of horses was being driven past his camp, and one of histwo animals was driven off with the herd. Mounting the other, hefollowed and demanded the horse, but the boss of the herd refused togive it up. He wanted a writ of replevin. 

I asked Mrs. Cody if she could write a writ of replevin and she saidshe had never heard of such a thing. I hadn't either. 

I asked the man in, and Mrs. Cody got breakfast for us. He refused thedrink I set out for him. I felt that I needed a good deal of bracing inthis writ of replevin business, so I drank his as well as mine. 

Then I buckled on my revolver, took down my old Lucretia rifle, and, patting her gently, said: "You will have to be constable for me today. "

To my wife and children, who were anxiously watching these proceedings, I said:

"Don't be alarmed. I am a judge now, and I am going into action. Comeon, my friend, " I said to the stranger, "get on your horse. "

"Why, " he protested, "you have no papers to serve on the man, and youhave no constable. "

"Don't worry, " I said. "I'll soon show you that I am the whole court. "

I mounted Joe, and we galloped along about ten miles when we overtookthe herd of horses. I found the boss, riding a big gray horse ahead ofthe herd. I ordered him to round up the herd. 

"By what authority!" he demanded. "Are you a constable?"

I said I was not only a constable, but the whole court, and one of hismen at the same time whispered to him: "Be careful, that is BuffaloBill!" At this time, as well as for years past, I had been chief UnitedStates detective for the army as well as scout and guide. I felt thatwith the offices of justice and constable added to these titles I hadall the power necessary to take one horse. 

The herd boss evidently thought so, too. After asking if my name wereCody, and being told that it was, he said:

"Well, there is no need of having a fuss over one horse. "

"No, " said I, "a horse doesn't mean much to you, but it amounts to agood deal to this poor immigrant. "

"Well, " said the herd boss, "how do you propose to settle it?"

"I am going to take you and your whole outfit to Fort McPherson. ThereI am going to try you and give you the limit--six months and afive-hundred-dollar fine. "

"I can't afford to go back to the Fort, " he pleaded, "let's settle itright here. What will you take to call it off?"

"One hundred and fifty dollars, " I said, "and quick!"

Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out a wallet filled with billsand counted out a hundred and fifty dollars. By this time the man whohad lost the horse had caught his animal in the herd. He was standing, holding it, near by. 

"Partner, " I said to him, "take your horse and go back home. "

"Now, boss, " I said to the other man, "let me give you a little advice. Be careful when a stranger gets into your herd and the owner overtakesyou and demands it. You may run into more trouble than I have givenyou, for you ought to know by this time that horse-stealing is ahanging offense. "

He said: "I didn't care a blank about your being justice of the peaceand constable combined, but when I found out you were Buffalo Bill itwas time to lay down my hand. "

"All right, old fellow, " I said, "good-by. "

As he rode off he called: "It was worth a hundred and fifty dollarsjust to get a good look at you, " and the other men agreed. 

By the time I got back to the fort, guard-mount was over, and a numberof officers were in the club. When they learned how I had disposed ofmy first case, they told the general, who was very much pleased. 

"I want it noised about among the outside civilians how you handle yourcourt, " he said. The story soon became known all over the surroundingcountry. Even the ladies of the Post heard of it, and told my wife andsisters, to whom I had never mentioned it. They looked upon it as agreat joke. 

CHAPTER VIII

Early in the month of September, 1874, word was received at FortMcPherson that General Sheridan and a party of friends were coming tothe Post to have a grand hunt in the vicinity. They further proposed toexplore the country from Fort McPherson to Fort Hays in Kansas. Theyarrived in a special car at North Platte, eighteen miles distant, onthe morning of September 22. 

In the party besides General Sheridan were James Gordon Bennett, of_The New York Herald_, Leonard Lawrence Jerome, Carroll Livingston, Major J. G. Heckscher, General Fitzhugh, General H. E. Davies, Captain M. Edward Rogers, Colonel J. Schuyler Crosby, Samuel Johnson, GeneralAnson Stager, of the Western Union, Charles Wilson, editor of _TheChicago Journal_, Quartermaster-General Rucker, and Dr. Asch, ofGeneral Sheridan's staff. 

They were met at the station by General Emory and Major Brown, with acavalry company as escort and a sufficient number of vehicles to carrythe distinguished visitors and their baggage. 

At the Fort they found the garrison, under the command of General Carr, on parade awaiting their arrival. 

A train of sixteen wagons was provided to carry the baggage suppliesand forage for the hunting trip. Besides these there were three or fourhorse-ambulances in which the guns were carried, and in which membersof the party might ride when they became weary of the saddle. Iaccompanied the expedition at the request of General Sheridan. Heintroduced me to everybody and gave me a good send-off. As it was ahigh-toned outfit I was to accompany, I determined to put on a littlestyle myself. I dressed in a new suit of light buckskin, trimmed alongthe seams with fringe of the same material. I put on a crimson shirt, elaborately decorated on the bosom, and selected a big sombrero for myhead. Then, mounting a showy horse which was a gallant stepper, I rodedown to the fort, rifle in hand. 

The expedition was soon under way. First in line rode General Sheridan, followed by his guests; then the orderlies. Then came the ambulances, in one of which were carried five greyhounds, brought along to courseantelopes and rabbits. 

With the ambulance marched a pair of Indian ponies belonging toLieutenant Hayes, captured during an Indian fight. These were harnessedto a light wagon, which General Sheridan occasionally used. Theselittle animals, thirteen hands high, showed more vigor and endurancethan any we brought with us. 

During our first night in camp the members of the party asked mehundreds of questions about buffaloes and buffalo hunting. The entireevening was spent in talk about buffaloes, together with stories of thePlains, the chase, and the war, which was then fresh in the minds ofall of us. We closed the evening by christening the camp, Camp Brown, in honor of the gallant officer who was in command of the escort. 

We breakfasted at four the next morning and at six we were in thesaddle. Everyone was eager to see the buffaloes which I had promisedwould be met with during the day. After a march of five miles theadvance guard which I commanded sighted six of these animals grazingabout two miles away. 

Acting upon my suggestion, Lawrence Jerome, Livingston, Heckscher, Fitzhugh, Rogers, and Crosby, with myself as guide, rode through aconvenient cañon to a point beyond the herd, and to windward of them;the rest of the party made a detour of nearly five miles, keepingbehind the crest of a hill. 

We charged down on the buffaloes at full gallop, and just then theother party emerged from their concealment and witnessed the excitingchase. 

The buffaloes started away in a line, single file; Fitzhugh, after alively gallop, led us all. Soon he came alongside the rear buffalo, atwhich he fired. The animal faltered, and with another shot Fitzhughbrought him to the ground. Crosby dashed past and leveled another ofthe herd, while Livingston dropped a third. Those who were not directlyengaged in the hunt now came up and congratulated the buffalo killers. Fitzhugh was hailed as the winner of the Buffalo Cup. There was generalsympathy for Heckscher, whose horse had fallen and rolled over him, thus putting him out of the race. 

The hunt being over, the column moved forward through a prairie-dogtown, several miles in extent. These animals are found throughout thePlains, living together in a sort of society. Their numberless burrowsin their towns join each other and the greatest care is necessary inriding among them, since the ground is so undermined as easily to giveway under the weight of a horse. 

Around the entrance to each burrow earth is piled to the height of atleast a foot. On these little elevations the prairie-dogs sit on theirhaunches, chattering to each other and observing whatever passes on thePlains. 

They will permit a person to approach very closely, but when they haveviewed him they dive into their holes with wonderful celerity. They aredifficult to kill. If hit they usually succeed in getting undergroundbefore they can be recovered. 

Rattlesnakes and little owls are found in great numbers in theprairie-dog towns, living in the same burrows. We killed and cooked afew of the prairie-dogs, and found them very palatable. 

A short distance beyond the prairie-dog town we found a settlement offive white men. They Proved to be the two Clifford brothers, ArthurRuff, Dick Seymour, and John Nelson. To the last I have alreadyreferred. Each of these men had a squaw for a wife and numeroushalf-breed children. They lived in tents of buffalo skins. They owned aherd of horses and a few cattle, and had cultivated a small piece ofland. Their principal occupation was hunting, and they had numbers ofbuffalo hides, which they had tanned in the Indian fashion. 

Upon reaching Pleasant Valley on Medicine Creek the party divided intotwo detachments, one hunting along the bank of the creek for elk anddeer, the other remaining with the main body of the escort. 

The elk hunters met with no success whatever, but the others foundplenty of buffaloes and nearly everybody killed one before the day wasdone. Lawrence Jerome made an excellent shot. He was riding in anambulance, and killed a buffalo that attempted to cross the line ofmarch. Upon crossing the Republican River on the morning of thetwenty-sixth we came upon an immense number of buffaloes scattered overthe country in every direction. All had an opportunity to hunt. Thewagons and troops moved slowly along toward the next camp while thehunters rode off in twos and threes. Each hunter was rewarded withabundant success. 

Lawrence Jerome met with the only mishap. He was riding Buckskin Joe, which I had lent him, and, dismounting to get a steady shot, thoughtlessly let go of the bridle. 

The horse decided to do a little hunting on his own account. When lastseen that day he was ahead of the buffaloes, and gaining, while hislate rider was left to his own reflections. Three days later Joe, saddled and bridled, turned up at Fort McPherson. 

We pitched our camp for the night in a charming spot on the bank ofBeaver Creek. The game was so abundant that we remained there the nextday. This stopping-place was called Camp Cody, in honor of the reader'shumble servant. The next day was spent in hunting jack-rabbits, coyotes, elk, antelope, and wild turkeys. 

That we had a splendid dinner may be seen from the following

 BILL OF FARE

 Soup Buffalo Tail

 Fish Broiled Cisco; Fried Dace

 Entrées Salmi of Prairie Dog; Stewed Rabbit; Filet of Buffalo aux Champignons

 Vegetables Sweet Potatoes, Mashed Potatoes, Green Peas

 Dessert Tapioca Pudding

 Wines Champagne Frappé, Champagne au Naturel, Claret, Whisky, Brandy, Ale

 Coffee

I considered this a fairly good meal for a hunting party. Everybody didjustice to it. 

The excursionists reached Fort Hays on the morning of October second. There we pitched our tents for the last time. That same afternoonGeneral Sheridan and his guests took the train for the East. Theyexpressed themselves as highly pleased with the hunt, as well as withthe way they had been guided and escorted. 

General Davies afterward wrote the story of this hunt in a volume ofsixty-eight pages, called "Ten Days on the Plains. " In this chapter Ihave taken the liberty of condensing frequently from this volume, andin some cases have used the general's exact language. I ought to insertseveral lines of quotations marks, to be pretty generally distributedthrough the foregoing account. 

After the departure of General Sheridan's party we returned to FortMcPherson, and found General Carr about to start on a twenty days'scout. His object was more to take some friends on a hunt than to lookfor Indians. His guests were a couple of Englishmen and Mr. McCarthy ofNew York, the latter a relative of General Emory. The command consistedof three companies of the Fifth Cavalry, one company of Pawnee Scouts, and twenty-five wagons. Of course I was called to accompany theexpedition. 

One day, after we had been out for some little time, I arranged withMajor North to play a joke on Mr. McCarthy. I took him out on a huntabout eight miles from the camp, informing Major North about what timewe should reach there. He had agreed that he would appear in thevicinity with his Indians, who were to throw their blankets around themand come dashing down upon us, firing and whooping in the true Indianstyle. 

This program was faithfully carried out. I had been talking aboutIndians to McCarthy, and he had become considerably excited, when justas we turned a bend in the creek we saw a band of them not half a mileaway. They instantly started after us on the gallop, yelling andshooting. 

"McCarthy, " said I, "shall we run or fight?"

He did not wait to reply. Wheeling his horse, he started at full speeddown the creek. He lost his gun and dropped his hat, but never once didhe look back to see if he were pursued. I tried to stop him by shoutingthat the Indians were Pawnees and our friends. He did not hear me, butkept straight on, never stopping his horse till he reached the camp. 

I knew he would tell General Carr that the Indians had jumped him, andthat the general would at once start out with troops. So as soon as thePawnees rode up, I told them to remain there while I rode after myfriend. 

When I had reached camp, he had given the alarm, and the general hadordered out two companies of cavalry to go in pursuit of the Indians. 

I told the general the Indians were only Pawnees, and that a joke hadbeen put up on McCarthy. I neglected to tell him who had put up thejoke. He was fond of a joke himself, and did not get very angry. I hadpicked up McCarthy's hat, which I returned to him. It was some timebefore it was discovered who was at the bottom of the affair. 

It was while I was stationed at Fort McPherson, where Brevet-Major-GeneralW. H. Emory was in command, that I acted as guide for Lord Flynn, anEnglish nobleman who had come over for a hunt on the Plains. I had beenrecommended to him by General Sheridan. 

Flynn had served in India with the British army. He was a finesportsman and a splendid shot, and secured many heads and skins whilehe was with me. Money meant little to him. He insisted on paying allthe bills, spending his money lavishly on both officers and men when hewas at the Post. 

Once, when we ran out of liquid refreshments while on the hunt, we rodethirty miles to a saloon, only to find it closed. Lord Flynn inquiredthe price of the place, found it to be $500 and bought it. When weleft, after having had all we needed to drink, he gave it--house, bar, stock, and all--to George Dillard, who had come along with the party asa sort of official bartender. 

Sir George Watts-Garland also made a hunt with us. He was an excellenthunter and a thorough gentleman, but he lacked the personality thatmade Lord Flynn one of the most popular visitors who ever came to thePost. 

Early in January, 1872, General Forsythe and Dr. Asch, of GeneralSheridan's staff, came to Fort McPherson to make preparations for agrand buffalo hunt to be conducted for the Grand Duke Alexis. GeneralSheridan was desirous of giving the Russian nobleman the hunt of hislife. He wanted everything ready when the Grand Duke arrived, so thathe need lose no time at the Post. 

By way of giving their distinguished guest a real taste of the Plains, the two officers asked me to visit the camp of the Sioux chief, SpottedTail, and ask him to bring a hundred of his warriors to the spot on RedWillow Creek, which, at my suggestion, had been selected as the GrandDuke's camp. 

Spotted Tail had permission from the Government to hunt buffalo, aprivilege that could not be granted to Indians indiscriminately, as itinvolved the right to carry and use firearms. You couldn't always besure just what kind of game an Indian might select when you gave him arifle. It might be buffalo, or it might be a white man. But SpottedTail was safe and sane. Hence the trust that was reposed in him. 

Forsythe and Asch, after accompanying me to the site I had found forthe camp, returned to the Post, while I set out to confer with Mr. Spotted Tail. The weather was very cold, and the journey was by nomeans a delightful one. I was obliged to camp out with only mysaddle-blankets to protect me from the weather, and only my vigilanceto protect me from the Indians. Spotted Tail himself was friendly, butsome of his young men were decidedly hostile. My activities as a scouthad made me many enemies among the Sioux, and it is not their natureeasily to forget old grudges. 

At the close of the first day I made camp on a tributary of Frenchman'sFork, and built a little fire. The night was bitter cold, and I was sobusy keeping warm that I got very little sleep. The next afternoon Ibegan to notice fresh horse tracks and the carcasses of recently killedbuffaloes. I knew that I was nearing an Indian camp. It was not policyto ride boldly in among the Indians, as some of them might be inclinedto shoot me first and discover later that I was a friend of SpottedTail. So I hid my horse in a low ravine and crawled up a hill, fromwhose summit I obtained a good view of the country. 

When night fell, I rode into camp unobserved. As I entered the camp Iwrapped my blanket, Indian fashion, about my head, so that the redskinswould not at once recognize me as a white man. Then I hunted about tillI found Spotted Tail's lodge. The old chief was stretched lazily out ona pile of robes as I looked in. He knew who I was and invited me toenter. 

In the lodge I found Todd Randall, an old white frontiersman, who wasSpotted Tail's friend and agent, and who had lived a great many yearswith the Indians. Randall, who spoke the Sioux jargon perfectly, didthe interpreting, and through him I readily communicated to the chiefthe object of my visit. 

I said that the warriors and chiefs would greatly please GeneralSheridan if they would meet him in about ten sleeps at the oldGovernment crossing at the Red Willow. I said that a great chief fromfar across the water was coming to visit them, and that he wasespecially anxious to meet the greatest of the Indian chiefs. 

Spotted Tail replied that he would be very glad to go. He added that onthe morrow he would call his men together and select from them thosewho were to accompany him. He told me I had acted very wisely in comingfirst to him, as it was known to him that some of his young men did notlike me, and he knew that they had hasty tempers. He expressed himselfas pleased that they had not met me outside the village, and I assuredhim that I was equally pleased that this was so. 

The chief then called his squaw, who got me something to eat, and Ipassed the remainder of the night in his lodge. Having informed the oldman that this was no ordinary occasion, and that he would be expectedto do the job up right, I returned to the Post. 

When the day set for the Grand Duke's arrival came there was a bravearray at the station to meet him. Captain Hays and myself had five orsix ambulances to carry his party, Captain Egan was on hand with acompany of cavalry and twenty extra saddle-horses, and the wholepopulation of the place was gathered to see the great man from Russia. 

The train came in, and from it stepped General Sheridan. A fine figureof a man was towering above him. This was the visitor. 

I was presented to the Grand Duke as Buffalo Bill, the man who wouldhave charge of the hunt. I immediately ordered up the saddle-horse Ihad selected for the nobleman, also a fine horse for General Sheridan. Both men decided to ride for a few miles before they took seats in theambulances. 

When the whole party was mounted they started south, Texas Jack actingas guide until such time as I could overtake them. The Grand Duke wasvery much interested in the whole proceeding, particularly in theIndians. It was noticed that he cast frequent and admiring glances at ahandsome red-skinned maiden who accompanied old Spotted Tail'sdaughter. When we made camp my titled guest plied me with questionsabout buffaloes and how to kill them. He wanted to know whether a gunor a pistol was the proper weapon and whether I would be sure to supplyhim with a horse that was trained in buffalo hunting. 

I told him that I would give him Buckskin Joe, the best buffalo horsein the country, and that all he would need to do would be to mount theanimal and fire away every time he saw a buffalo. 

At nine o'clock in the morning we were all galloping over the prairiesin search of big game. I waited till everyone was ready, and then ledthe party over a little knoll that hid the herd from view. In a fewminutes we were among the buffaloes. 

Alexis first chose to use his pistol. He sent six shots in rapidsuccession after one bull, at a distance of only twenty feet, but hefired wildly, and did no damage whatever. I rode up to his side, and, his pistol having been emptied, gave him mine. He seized it and firedsix more shots, but not a buffalo fell. 

I saw that he was pretty sure to come home empty-handed if he continuedthis sort of pistol practice. So I gave him my old "Lucretia" and toldhim to urge his horse close to the buffaloes, and not to shoot till Igave him the word. At the same time I gave Buckskin Joe a cut with mywhip which sent him at a furious gallop to within ten feet of one ofthe biggest bulls in the herd. 

"Now is your time, " I shouted to Alexis. He fired, and down went thebuffalo. Then, to my amazement, he dropped his gun, waved his hat inthe air, and began talking to members of his suite in his nativetongue, which I of course was totally unable to understand. OldBuckskin Joe was standing behind the horse that I was riding, apparently quite as much astonished as I was at this singular conductof a man he had accepted in good faith as a buffalo hunter. 

There was no more hunting for the Grand Duke just then. The pride ofhis achievement had paralyzed any further activity as a Nimrod in him. Presently General Sheridan came riding up, and the ambulances weregathered round. Soon corks were popping and champagne was flowing inhonor of the Grand Duke Alexis and his first buffalo. 

Many of the newspapers which printed accounts of the hunt said that Ihad shot the buffalo for the Grand Duke. Others asserted that I heldthe buffalo while the Grand Duke shot him. But the facts are just as Ihave related them. 

It was evident to all of us that there could be little more sport forthat day. At the request of General Sheridan I guided the Russians backto camp. Several of the others in the party decided to indulge in alittle hunt on their own account, and presently we saw them gallopingmadly over the prairie in all directions, with terrified buffaloesflying before them. 

As we were crossing a stream on our way back to camp we ran into asmall band that had been frightened by some of these hunters. They camesweeping across our path, not more than thirty feet away, and as theypassed Alexis raised his pistol and fired generally into the herd. Abuffalo cow fell. 

It was either an extraordinary shot or a "scratch, " probably thelatter. The Duke was as much astonished as any of us at the result, butwe gave him three rousing cheers, and when the ambulance came up we hada second round of champagne in honor of the prowess of ourdistinguished fellow hunter. I began to hope that he would keep righton killing buffaloes all the afternoon, for it was apparent that everytime he dropped an animal a basket of champagne was to be opened. Andin those days on the Plains champagne was not a drink that could beindulged in very often. 

I took care of the hides and heads of the buffaloes the Grand Duke hadshot, as he wanted them all preserved as souvenirs of his hunt, whichhe was now enjoying immensely. I also cut the choice meat from the cowthat he had killed and brought it into camp. At supper he had thepleasure of dining on buffalo meat which he himself had provided. 

Eight buffaloes were killed by Alexis during the three days we remainedin camp. He spent most of his time in the saddle, and soon becamereally accomplished. After he had satisfied himself as to his ownability as a buffalo killer he expressed a desire to see how theIndians hunted them. He had never seen bows and arrows used in thepursuit of game. Spotted Tail, who had joined the hunt according to hispromise, picked out some of his best hunters, and when Alexis joinedthem directed them to surround a herd. They were armed with bows andarrows and lances. 

I told the Grand Duke to follow one particularly skillful brave whosename was Two Lance, who had a reputation for being able to drive anarrow clear through the body of a bull. The Indian proved equal to hisfame. He hauled alongside of an animal, and, bending his powerful bow, let fly an arrow, which passed directly through the bulky carcass of agalloping brute, who fell dead instantly. The arrow, at the GrandDuke's request, was given to him as a souvenir which he doubtless oftenexhibited as proof of his story when some of his European friendsproved a little bit skeptical of his yarns of the Western Plains. 

When the visitor had had enough of buffalo hunting, orders were givento return to the railroad. The conveyance provided for Alexis andGeneral Sheridan was an old-fashioned Irish dogcart, drawn by fourspirited cavalry horses. The driver was old Bill Reed, anoverland-stage driver, and our wagon-master. The Grand Duke vastlyadmired the manner in which he handled the reins. 

On the way over, General Sheridan told his guest that I too was astage-driver, and Alexis expressed a desire to see me drive. 

"Cody, " called the general, "come back here and exchange places withReed. The Grand Duke wants you to drive for a while. "

In a few minutes I had the reins, and we were racing across theprairie. We jogged along steadily enough, despite a pretty rapid pace, and this did not suit General Sheridan at all. 

"Shake 'em up a little, Bill, " he told me as we were approachingMedicine Creek. "Show us some old-time stage-driving. "

I gave the horses a sounding crack with the whip, and they jumped intotheir work with a real interest. The load was light and their paceincreased with every second. 

Soon they were fairly flying over the ground, and I had all I could doto maintain any control over them. At last we reached a steep hill, ordivide, the further side of which sloped down to the creek. There wasno brake on the wagon, and the four horses were not in the leastinclined to hold back, appearing to be wholly unconcerned as to whatmight happen. 

It was impossible to restrain them. My work was cut out for me inkeeping them on the track. So I let them set their own pace down thehill. The wagon bounded and rebounded from the bumps in the road, andmy two distinguished passengers had to keep very busy holding theirseats. 

However, when they saw that the horses were being kept in the road theyassumed an appearance of enjoying themselves. I was unable to slackenthe pace of the horses until they dashed into the camp where we were toobtain a relay. There I succeeded in checking them. 

[Illustration: STAGE-COACH DRIVING WAS FULL OF HAIR-RAISINGADVENTURES]

The Grand Duke and the general said they had got a lot of enjoyment outof the ride, but I noticed that thereafter they were perfectly willingto travel at an easier pace. 

When we arrived at North Platte, the Grand Duke invited me into hiscar, and there, over a few bottles of champagne, we went over all thedetails of the hunt. He said the trip was one which he would neverforget and professed himself as wholly unable to thank me for my partin it. 

As I was leaving the car one of his suite approached me, and, extendinga big roll of greenbacks, begged me to accept it as a slight token ofthe Grand Duke's appreciation of my services. 

I told him I could take nothing for what I had done. He then handed mea small jewel box, which I slipped into my pocket without examining, and asked if I would not also accept the magnificent fur overcoat whichAlexis had worn on the hunt. 

I had frequently admired this coat, which was made of many fine Russianfurs. I was glad to receive it as a remembrance from one of the mostagreeable men I had ever guided on a hunting expedition. 

After leaving us Alexis telegraphed to the most famous of New Yorkjewelers and had made for me a wonderful set of sleeve-links and ascarf-pin, studded with diamonds and rubies, each piece in the form ofa buffalo head, as large as a silver half-dollar. 

Reporters who accompanied the expedition telegraphed the story of thisorder to their New York newspapers. When later I arrived in New York, after this present had been given me, some of the papers said thatBuffalo Bill had come to New York to buy a shirt on which to wear thejewelry given him by the Grand Duke Alexis. 

Shortly after this, General Ord, who had accompanied the hunting party, rode over with me to Fort McPherson. On the way he asked me how I wouldlike to have a commission in the regular army. General Sheridan, hesaid, had suggested that I ought to have a commission, and the mattercould be arranged if I desired it. 

I thanked the general, and asked him to thank General Sheridan. Butthough a commission was a tempting prize, I preferred to remain in theposition I was holding. He said that if at any time I felt that Iwanted a commission, I only needed to ask for it, and it would be givento me. 

All I looked forward to was the life of the Plains. It was enough forme to be in the saddle, trusting each day to find some new adventure. Army life would mean a great deal of routine, and routine was somethingI could not endure. 

So, giving up forever any hope of wearing an officer's shoulder-straps, I was about to turn back to the prairies to see what new opportunitiesfor excitement offered, when a strange new call came to me. 

General J. J. Reynolds, who had just arrived at Fort McPherson with theThird Cavalry, called me into the office one day and told me that hehad a letter, railroad tickets, and five hundred dollars for me. Furthermore he informed me that a thirty days' leave of absence wasawaiting me whenever I wanted to take it. 

All this was the doing of the "Millionaires' Hunting Party, " headed byJames Gordon Bennett and the Jeromes, which I had guided the yearbefore. 

I was, in short, invited to visit my former charges in New York, andprovided by them with money and mileage, and leisure for the trip. 

CHAPTER IX

Of course going to New York was a very serious business, and not to beundertaken lightly. The first thing I needed was clothes, and at mydirection the Post tailor constructed what I thought was the handsomestsuit in the world. Then I proceeded to buy a necktie, so that I couldwear the present which had come in the little box from the GrandDuke--a handsome scarf-pin. The Grand Ducal overcoat and a new Stetson, added to the wardrobe I already possessed, completed my outfit. Almosteverything I had was on my back, but just the same I borrowed a littletrunk of my sister, so as to impress New York with the fact that I hadas many clothes as any visitor from the West. 

At the last minute I decided to take along my buckskin suit. Somethingtold me that some of the people I had met in New York might want toknow just how a scout looked in his business clothes. Mrs. Cody wasmuch astonished because I did not ask for my brace of pistols, whichhad accompanied me everywhere I had gone up to that time. 

She had great confidence in these weapons, which more than once hadsaved my life. She wanted to know what in the world I would do withoutthem if I met any bad men in New York. I told her that I supposed therewere policemen in New York whose business it was to take care of suchpeople. Anyway, I was going to chance it. 

On my arrival at Omaha I was met by a number of friends who had heardof my expected descent on New York. They drove me at once to the UnitedStates Court, where my old friend, Judge Dundee, was on the bench. Theminute I entered the courtroom the judge rapped loudly with his gaveland said:

"This court is adjourned while Cody is in town. " He joined the party, and we moved on to the Paxton Hotel, where a banquet was arranged in myhonor. 

I left for Chicago the next day. On arriving there, I was met at thedepot by Colonel M. V. Sheridan, brother of General Philip Sheridan, myold friend and fellow townsman. "Mike" Sheridan, with his brother, thegeneral, was living in a beautiful house on Michigan Avenue. There Imet a number of the old officers with whom I had served on the Plains. 

I was still wearing the wonderful overcoat that had been given me bythe Grand Duke Alexis, and it was a source of continuous admirationamong the officers, who pronounced it the most magnificent garment ofits kind in America. 

The splendor of the general's Michigan Avenue mansion was new to me;never before had I seen such vast rooms and such wonderful furnishings. It was necessary to show me how the gas was turned on and off, and howthe water flowed in the bathroom. I moved around the place in a dazeuntil "Mike, " taking pity on me, escorted me to a barroom, where I wasmore at home. As we were partaking of a cocktail, a number of reportersfrom the Chicago papers came in. They had been told of my visit andplied me with questions. In the papers the next morning I found that Ihad had adventures that up to that time I had never heard of. The nextevening I had my first adventure in high society, and it proved moreterrifying to me than any Indian fight I had ever taken part in. Finding I had no proper raiment for a big ball, which was to be givenin my honor, "Mike" Sheridan took me to the clothing department ofMarshall Field's, where I was fitted with an evening suit. 

The general's valet assisted me into these garments that evening. Mylong brown hair still flowed down over my shoulders and I wasdetermined to go to the barber's and have it sheared before I made apublic appearance, but General Sheridan would not hear of this. Heinsisted that I crown my long locks with a plug hat, but here I wasadamant. I would go to the party in my Stetson or I would not go to theparty at all. 

The ball was held at the Riverside Hotel, which was then one of thefashionable hostelries of Chicago. When I was escorted in, I was toldto give the colored boy my hat and coat--to this I violently objected. I prized the coat beyond all my earthly possessions and intended totake no chances with it. I was finally persuaded that the boy was aresponsible employee of the hotel and reluctantly gave him the garment. Then I suffered myself to be led into the ballroom. Here I met a bevyof the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Fearing every minute thatI would burst my new and tight evening clothes, I bowed to them allaround--but very stiffly. To the general's request that I join in thenext dance I entered a firm refusal. I knew no dances but squaredances, so they got up an old-fashioned quadrille for me and I managedsomehow to go through it. As soon as it was over, I hurriedly escortedmy fair partner to her seat, then I quickly made my way to the barroom. The man behind the bar appreciated my plight. He stowed me away in acorner behind the icebox and in that corner I remained for the rest ofthe evening. 

Several times the general and his friends came down to "moisten up, "and each time I heard them wondering aloud what had become of me. Whenthe music stopped and the party broke up I emerged from myhiding-place. The next morning I reported to the general and explainedto him that I was going back to the sagebrush. If New York were likeChicago, I wanted to be excused. But he insisted that I continue mytrip. 

At eleven o'clock the next morning he thrust me into a Pullman car, which was in charge of Mr. Angel, an official of the Pullman CarCompany, and was taking a private party to the East. 

Two of my millionaire hunting companions, J. B. Heckscher and ColonelSchuyler Crosby, met me at the station and drove me to the Union Club. That night I was told to put on my evening clothes and accompany themto a theater. Heckscher was very much disturbed when he saw the Chicagoclawhammer that had been purchased for me. 

"It will do for tonight, " he said, "but tomorrow I'll send you to mytailor and have him make you some clothes fit for a gentleman to wear. "

We saw Edwin Booth in a Shakespearean play. I was told that all mywealthy hunting friends would join me at breakfast the next morning. Iwas up at seven o'clock and waiting for them. The hours dragged slowlyby and no guests arrived. I was nearly famished, but did not dare eatuntil the company should be assembled. About eleven o'clock, when I waspractically starved, Mr. Heckscher turned up. I asked him what timethey usually had breakfast in New York and he said about half-pasttwelve or any time therafter up to three. 

At one, the gentlemen all made their appearance and were somewhatastonished at the amount of breakfast I stowed away, until they weretold that I had been fasting since seven o'clock that morning. 

During my visit to New York, I was taken by Mr. James Gordon Bennett toNiblo's Garden, where I saw "The Black Crook. " We witnessed theperformance from a private box and my breath was fairly taken away whenthe curtain went up on the fifth act. Needless to say, that was thefirst time I had ever witnessed a musical show and I thought it themost wonderful spectacle I had ever gazed upon. 

The remainder of my visit in New York was spent in a series of dinnersand theater parties. I was entertained in the house of each gentlemanwho had been with me on the hunt. I had the time of my life. 

After I had had about all the high life I could stand for the timebeing I set out for Westchester, Pa. , to find the only relative I knewin the East. My mother was born in Germantown. Her sister had marriedone Henry R. Guss, of Westchester. 

I found on reaching Westchester that my relative was one of its mostimportant citizens, having the Civil War title of general. I found hishome with no trouble, and he was very delighted to see me. An old lady, who was a member of his household, he introduced to me as mygrandmother. His first wife, my Aunt Eliza, was dead, and he hadmarried a second time. He also introduced me to his son, Captain GeorgeGuss, who had been in the army with him during the Civil War. 

It was not until we had talked of old family connections for an hour ormore that they discovered that I was Buffalo Bill; then they simplyflooded me with questions. 

To make sure that I would return for a second visit, the young peopleof the family accompanied me back to New York. I was due for a dinnerthat evening, so I gave them a card to Mr. Palmer, of Niblo's Garden, and they all went to see "The Black Crook. "

When I reached the club I was given a telegram from General Sheridantelling me to hasten to Chicago. He wanted me to hurry on to FortMcPherson and guide the Third Cavalry, under General Reynolds, on amilitary expedition. The Indians had been committing seriousdevastations and it was necessary to suppress them summarily. At thedinner, which was given by Mr. Bennett, I told my New York friends thatI would have to leave for the West the next day. When the party brokeup I went directly to the Albemarle Hotel and told my cousins that wewould have to start early the next morning for Westchester. There Iwould remain twenty-four hours. 

When we reached Westchester, my uncle informed me that they hadarranged a fox hunt for the next morning, and that all the people inthe town and vicinity would be present. They wanted to see a real scoutand plainsman in the saddle. 

Early next morning many ladies and gentlemen, splendidly mounted, appeared in front of my uncle's residence. At that time Westchesterpossessed the best pack of fox hounds in America. Captain Trainer, master of the hounds, provided me with a spirited horse which had on alittle sheepskin saddle of a kind on which I had never ridden. I wasfamiliar neither with the horse, the saddle, the hounds, norfox-hunting, and was extremely nervous. I would have backed out if Icould, but I couldn't, so I mounted the horse and we all started on thechase. 

We galloped easily along for perhaps a mile and I was beginning tothink fox-hunting a very tame sport indeed when suddenly the houndsstarted off on a trail, all barking at once. The master of the houndsand several of the other riders struck off across country on the trail, taking fences and stone walls at full gallop. 

I noticed that my uncle and several elderly gentlemen stuck to the roadand kept at a more moderate gait. The eyes of the spectators were allon me. I don't know what they expected me to do, but at any rate theywere disappointed. To their manifest disgust I stayed with the peopleon the road. 

Shortly we came to a tavern and I went in and nerved myself with astiff drink, also I had a bottle filled with liquid courage, which Itook along with me. Just by way of making a second fiasco impossible Itook three more drinks while I was in the bar, then I galloped away andsoon overtook the hunters. 

The first trail of the hounds had proved false. Two miles further onthey struck a true trail and away they went at full cry. I had now gotused to the saddle and the gait of my horse. I also had prepared myselfin the tavern for any course of action that might offer. 

The M. F. H. Began taking stone walls and hedges and I took every onethat he did. Across the country we went and nothing stopped or dauntedme until the quarry was brought to earth. I was in at the death and wasgiven the honor of keeping the brush. 

At two o'clock that afternoon I took my departure for the West. Mr. Frank Thompson, of the Pennsylvania Railroad, who had ridden my famousbuffalo horse, Buckskin Joe, on the great hunt, sent me to Chicago inhis own private car. 

At the station in Chicago I was met with orders from General Sheridanto continue straight ahead to Fort McPherson as quickly as possible. The expedition was waiting for me. 

At Omaha a party of my friends took me off the train and entertained meuntil the departure of the next train. They had heard of my eveningclothes and insisted on my arraying myself therein for their benefit. My trunk was taken to the Paxton Hotel and I put on the clawhammer andall that went with it. About fifty of my Omaha friends accompanied meto the train; in my silk hat and evening dress I was an imposingspectacle. But I expected to change into my Plains clothes as soon as Igot into the car. However, these plans were sadly upset. Both myfriends and I had forgotten my trunk, which in the hour of my greatestneed was still reposing in a room in the Paxton Hotel, while in clothesfit only for a banquet I was speeding over the Plains to a possibleIndian fight. 

At Fort McPherson, my old friend, "Buffalo Chips, " was waiting for me. He had been left behind by General Reynolds to tell me to overtake thecommand as soon as possible. He had brought out old Buckskin Joe for meto ride. 

The expedition was already well on its way north into the Loup countryand had camped at Pawnee Springs, about eight miles from McPhersonStation, the night before. 

Poor old Buffalo Chips almost fell dead when he saw how I was dressed. The hat especially filled him with amazement and rage, but there wasnothing else to do. I had to go as I was or go not at all. 

The champagne with which my Omaha friends had filled my stateroom Igave to the boys at the station. I did not have to urge them to acceptit. They laughed a good deal at my stovepipe hat and evening dress, butbecause of the champagne they let me off without as much guying as Iwould otherwise have received. 

Jumping on our horses, we struck out on the trail of the soldiers. Itwas about one o'clock when we overtook them. As we neared the rearguard, I pulled off my overcoat and strapped it behind my saddle. Ialso put my hair up under my stovepipe hat and galloped past thecommand, to all appearances fresh from a New York ballroom. 

"Look at the dude! Look at the dude!" they shouted as I rode amongthem. Paying no attention to them, I galloped up and overtook GeneralReynolds. Saluting him, I said:

"General, I have come to report for duty. "

"Who in thunder are you?" he demanded, looking at me without a sign ofrecognition in his eye. 

"Why, general, " I said, "I am to be your guide on this expedition. "

He looked at me a second time, and a grin spread over his face. 

"Can it be possible that you are Cody?" he asked. I told him that I wasCody. 

"Let down your hair, " he commanded. I took off my hat, and my hair fellover my shoulders. A loud yell went up from both officers and enlistedmen, as the word went up and down the line that the dude they had beenbedeviling was none other than Buffalo Bill. 

Texas Jack and the scouts who were ahead had heard the noise and camegalloping back. 

"Welcome back, old chief!" shouted Jack, and the scouts gathered aroundme, shaking my hand and congratulating me on my safe return from thedangers and the perils of the East. 

The general asked me how far it was to the Loup Fork. I said it wasabout eight miles and offered to proceed there ahead of the command andselect a good sheltered camp. This I did. The adjutant accompanying thedetachment helped me and laid out the camping spot, and when thecommand pulled in they disposed themselves for the night in a beautifulgrove of timber where there was plenty of firewood and good grass forthe horses and mules. Soon the tents were up and big fires werecrackling all around. 

I accepted with thanks General Reynolds's invitation to mess with himon the trip. After dinner, before a big log fire, which was being builtin front of the general's tent, the officers came up to meet me. Amongthose to whom I was introduced were Colonel Anthony Mills, MajorCurtiss, Major Alexander Moore, Captain Jerry Russell, LieutenantCharles Thompson, Quartermaster Lieutenant Johnson, Adjutant CaptainMinehold, and Lieutenant Lawson. After this reception, I went down tovisit the scouts in camp. There the boys dug me up all kinds ofclothes, and clothes of the Western kind I very sadly needed. 

White had brought along an old buckskin suit. When I had got this onand an old Stetson on my head, and had my favorite pair of gunsstrapped to me and my dear old "Lucretia Borgia" was within reach, Ifelt that Buffalo Bill was himself again. 

The general informed me that evening that Indians had been reported onthe Dismal River. At breakfast the next morning he said that a largewar party had been committing devastations up and down the flat. Hisscouts had discovered their trail going north and had informed him thatthey would probably make camp on the Dismal. There they were sure to bejoined by other Indians. He asked my opinion as to what had best bedone. 

I told him it was about twenty-five miles from the present tent to theDismal River. I said I had better go on, taking White with me, and tryto locate them. 

"I've heard of this man White, " said the general. "They tell me that heis your shadow and he follows you every place you go. " I said that thiswas true and that I had all I could do to keep him from following me toNew York. "It would break his heart, " I said, "if I were to leave himbehind now. " I added that Texas Jack knew the country thoroughly andthat he could guide the command to a point on the Dismal River where Icould meet them that night. The general said:

"I have been fighting the Apaches in Arizona, but I find these Siouxare an entirely different crowd. I know little about them and I willfollow your suggestions. You start now and I will have the commandfollowing you in an hour and a half. "

I told White to get our horses at once and also to tell Texas Jack toreport to me. When the latter reported I told him the general wantedhim to guide the command to the course of the Dismal. When he gotthere, if he didn't hear from me in the meantime, he was to select agood camp. 

White and I set out, riding carefully and looking for the trail. We hadtraveled about ten miles when I found it. The Indians were headedtoward the Dismal. Presently another trail joined the first one, andthen we had to begin extremely careful scouting. 

I didn't follow the Indian trail, but bordered the left and struck theriver about five miles above the Fork. There we turned down-stream. Soon on the opposite side we saw a party of Indians surrounding a herdof elk. I didn't approach them closely, neither did I follow down thestream any further. We kept parallel with the course of the river, andsoon stopped at the foot of a high sandhill. From here I knew I couldget a view of the whole country. 

I told White to remain there until I came back, and, jumping off oldJoe, I cautiously climbed the hill. 

From behind a big soapweed--a plant sometimes called Spanish Dagger--Igot a view of the Dismal River, for several miles. I immediatelydiscovered smoke arising from a bunch of timber about three miles belowme. Grazing around the timber were several hundred head of horses. HereI knew the Indian camp to be located. 

I slipped down the hill, and, running to old Joe, mounted, tellingWhite at the same time that I had located the camp. Then we begancircling the sandhill until we got two or three miles away, keeping outof sight of the Indians all the time. When we felt we were safe we madea straight sweep to meet the command. I found the scouts first and toldTexas Jack to hold up the soldiers, keeping them out of sight until heheard from me. 

I went on until I met General Reynolds at the head of the column. Hebaited the troop on my approach; taking him to one side, I told himwhat I had discovered. He said:

"As you know the country and the location of the Indian camp, tell mehow you would proceed. "

I suggested that he leave one company as an escort for the wagon-trainand let them follow slowly. I would leave one guide to show them theway. Then I would take the rest of the cavalry and push on as rapidlyas possible to within a few miles of the camp. That done, I woulddivide the command, sending one portion across the river to the right, five miles below the Indians, and another one to bear left toward thevillage. Still another detachment was to be kept in readiness to movestraight for the camp. This, however, was not to be done until theflanking column had time to get around and across the river. 

It was then two o'clock. By four o'clock the flanking columns would bein their proper positions to move on and the charge could begin. I saidI would go with the right-hand column and send Texas Jack with theleft-hand column. I would leave White with the main detachment. Iimpressed on the general the necessity of keeping in the ravine of thesandhills so as to be out of sight of the Indians. 

I said that, notwithstanding all the caution that we could take, wewere likely to run into a party of hunters, who would immediatelyinform the camp of our presence. In case of discovery, I said, it wouldbe necessary to make our charge at once. 

General Reynolds called his officers together and gave them mysuggestions as their instructions. In a very few minutes everything wasmoving. I accompanied Colonel Mills. His column had crossed the Dismaland was about two miles to the north of it when I saw a party ofIndians chasing elk. 

I knew that sooner or later--probably sooner--these Indians would seeme. I told Colonel Mills he had better send the scout back to GeneralReynolds and make all haste to charge the village. We had no way ofsending word to Major Curtiss, who led the other flanking column, andwe had to trust to luck that he would hear the firing when it started. 

Colonel Mills kept his troops on the lowest ground I could pick out, but we made our way steadily toward the village. 

Inside of half an hour we heard firing up the river from where we were. Colonel Mills at once ordered his troops to charge. Luckily it collidedwith the Indians' herd of horses, which were surrounded, thus deprivingmost of the braves of their mounts. 

Men were left to guard the animals, and, taking the rest of thecompany, we charged the village, reaching it a little after the arrivalof General Reynolds. The attack was not as much a surprise as we hadhoped for. Some of the Indian hunters had spied the soldiers andnotified the camp, but General Reynolds, coming from the south, haddriven all the Indians on foot and all the squaws and children towardthe sandhills on the north. Mills came pretty near finding more Indiansthan he was looking for. Their force largely outnumbered ours when wecollided, but Major Curtiss came charging down from the north just atthis instant. His arrival was such a complete surprise that the Indiansgave up and began waving the white flag. Then all firing ceased. 

On rounding them up we found that we had captured about two hundred andfifty warriors, women, and children, most of whom were from the SpottedTail Agency. 

The general had the Indians instantly disarmed. Most of their tepeeswere up and they were ordered to go into them and remain there. Weplaced a sufficient guard around the whole camp so that none couldescape. On the arrival of the wagon-train, for which a scout had beensent, the command went into camp. 

Taking me aside, General Reynolds said:

"I want you to send one of your fastest men back to Fort McPherson. Iam sending dispatches to General Ord, asking for instructions. "

I selected White to make this trip, and he was ready for duty in fiveminutes. 

We were then sixty-five miles from Fort McPherson Station. I told Whitethat the matter was urgent and that he must get to that telegraphoffice as soon as possible. At ten o'clock the next morning he rodeinto our camp with a telegram to General Reynolds. The general wasordered to disarm all the Indians and send them under guard of acompany of cavalry to the Spotted Tail Agency. 

General Reynolds was very much delighted with the success of theexpedition. On his arrival at the Fort he received congratulations fromGeneral Ord and from General Sheridan. General Sheridan asked in histelegram if Cody had gone along. The general wired back that Cody hadgone along and also wrote a letter telling General Sheridan how he hadreported in evening dress. 

Of course the papers were soon full of this raid. Al Sorenson of theOmaha _Bee_, who had seen my evening clothes and silk hat in Omaha, wrote an extremely graphic story of my arrival on the Plains. I soonfound that the officers and men in the Third Cavalry knew all about theincident. 

During the spring of '72, the Indians were rather quiet. We did alittle scouting, however, just to keep watch on them. One day, in thefall of that year, I returned from a scouting expedition, and as Ipassed the store there were a lot of men crowded in front of it. All ofthem saluted me with "How do you do, Honorable!" I rode straight to thegeneral's private office. He also stood at attention and said:

"Good morning, Honorable. "

"What does all this 'Honorable' mean, General?" I demanded. He said:"Of course, you have been off on a scout and you have not heard, butwhile you were gone you were nominated and elected to represent thetwenty-sixth district of Nebraska in the Legislature. " I said:

"That is highly complimentary, and I appreciate it, but I am nopolitician and I shall have to tender my resignation, " and tender it Idid. 

My refusal to serve as a lawmaker was unqualified. I knew nothing aboutpolitics. I believe that I made a fairly good justice of the peace, butthat was because of no familiarity with the written law. I merelyapplied the principles of fair-dealing to my cases and did as I wouldhave been done by. The Golden Rule was the only statute I applied. 

I inquired how to free myself formally from the new honors that hadbeen thrust upon me, and soon another man was serving in my stead--andquite welcome he was to the pay and credit that might have been mine. 

I returned back to the Plains for employment, but there was nothing todo. The Indians, for a wonder, were quiet. There was little stirring inthe military posts. I could have continued to serve in one of them if Ihad chosen, and the way was still open to study for a commission as anofficer. But army life without excitement was not interesting for me, and when Ned Buntline offered me a chance to come East and try myfortunes as an actor I accepted. 

I accepted with misgivings, naturally. Hunting Indians across a stagediffered from following them across the Plains. I knew the wild westernIndian and his ways. I was totally unacquainted with the tame stageIndian, and the thought of a great gaping audience looking at me acrossthe footlights made me shudder. 

But when my old "pards, " Wild Bill and Texas Jack, consented to trytheir luck with me in the new enterprise I felt better. Together wemade the trip to New York, and played for a time in the hodgepodgedrama written for us by Ned Buntline himself. 

Before any of us would consent to be roped and tied by Thespis weinsisted on a proviso that we be freed whenever duty called us to thePlains. 

The first season was fairly prosperous, and so was the second. Thethird year I organized a "show" of my own, with real Indians in it--thefirst, I believe, who ever performed on a stage. I made money and beganto get accustomed to the new life, but in 1876 the call for which I hadbeen listening came. 

The Sioux War was just breaking out. I closed the show earlier thanusual and returned to the West. Colonel Mills had written me severaltimes to say that General Crook wanted me to accompany his command. When I left Chicago I had expected to catch up with Crook at the PowderRiver, but I learned en route that my old command, the gallant FifthCavalry, was on its way from Arizona to join him, and that GeneralCarr, my former commander, was at its head. 

Carr wanted me as his guide and chief of scouts, and had written toarmy headquarters in Chicago to learn where I could be reached. 

As soon as this news came to me I gave up the idea of overtaking Crook. I hastened to Cheyenne, where the Fifth Cavalry had already arrived, and was met at the depot there by Lieutenant Charles King, adjutant ofthe regiment, who had been sent by General Carr from Fort D. A. Russell. In later years, as General Charles King, this officer became a widelypopular author, and wrote some of the best novels and stories of Indianlife that I have ever read. 

As I accompanied the lieutenant back to the fort, we passed soldierswho recognized me and shouted greetings. When we entered the Post agreat shout of "Here's Buffalo Bill!" arose from the men on the paradeground. It was like old times, and I felt a thrill of happiness to beback among my friends, and bound for one of the regular old-timecampaigns. The following morning the command pulled out for FortLaramie. We found General Sheridan there ahead of us, and mighty gladwas I to see that brave and able commander once more. Sheridan wasaccompanied by General Frye and General Forsythe, and all were en routefor the Red Cloud Agency, near the center of the Sioux trouble, whichwas then reaching really alarming proportions. The command was toremain at Laramie for a few days; so, at General Sheridan's request, Iaccompanied him on his journey. We were able to accomplish little inthe way of peace overtures. 

The Indians had lately committed many serious depredations along theBlack Hills trail. Gold had been discovered there in many new places, and the miners, many of them tenderfoots, and unused to the ways of thered man, had come into frequent conflict with their new neighbors. Massacres, some of them very flagrant, had resulted and most of thetreaties our Government had made with the Indians had been ruthlesslybroken. 

On my return from the agency, the Fifth Cavalry was sent out to scoutthe country between there and the Black Hills. We operated along thesouth fork of the Cheyenne and about the foot of the Black Hills fortwo weeks, and had several small engagements with roving bands ofIndians during that time. 

All these bands were ugly and belligerent, and it was plain from thespirit they showed that there had been a general understanding amongall the redskins thereabout that the time had come to drive the whiteman from the country. 

Brevet-General Wesley Merritt, who had lately received his promotion tothe colonelcy of the Fifth Cavalry, now took command of the regiment. Iregretted that the command had been taken from General Carr. I was fondof him personally, and it was under him that the regiment made its finereputation as a fighting organization. I soon became well acquaintedwith General Merritt, however, and found him to be a brave man and anexcellent officer. 

The regiment did continuous and hard scouting. We soon believed we haddriven all the hostile Indians out of that part of the country. Infact, we were starting back to Fort Laramie, regarding the business athand as finished, when a scout arrived at our camp and reported themassacre of General Custer and his whole force on the Little Big Horn. 

This massacre occurred June 25, 1876, and its details are known, orought to be known, by every schoolboy. Custer was a brave, dashing, headlong soldier, whose only fault was recklessness. 

He had been warned many times never to expose a small command to asuperior force of Indians, and never to underestimate the ability andgeneralship of the Sioux. He had unbounded confidence, however, inhimself and his men, and I believe that not until he was struck downdid he ever doubt that he would be able to cut his way out of the wallof warriors about him and turn defeat into a glorious and conspicuousvictory. 

The news of the massacre, which was the most terrible that everovertook a command of our soldiers, was a profound shock to all of us. We knew at once that we would all have work to do, and settled grimlyinto the preparations for it. 

Colonel Stanton, who was with the Fifth Cavalry on this scout, had beensent to the Red Cloud Agency two days before. That night a message camefrom him that eight hundred warriors had left the agency to joinSitting Bull on the Little Big Horn. Notwithstanding instructions toproceed immediately by way of Fort Fetterman to join Crook, GeneralMerritt took the responsibility of endeavoring to intercept theCheyennes and thereby performed a very important service. 

For this job the general selected five hundred men and horses. In twohours we were making a forced march back to War Bonnet Creek. Ourintention was to reach the Indian trail running to the north acrossthis watercourse before the Cheyennes could get there. We arrived thenext night. 

At daylight the next morning, July 17, I proceeded ahead on a scout. Ifound that the Indians had not yet crossed the creek. On my way back tothe command I discovered a large party of Indians. I got close enoughto observe them, and they proved to be Cheyennes, coming from thesouth. With this information. I hurried back to report. 

The cavalrymen were ordered to mount their horses quietly and remainout of sight, while General Merritt, accompanied by two or three aidesand myself, went on a little tour of observation to a neighboring hill. From the summit of this we saw the Indians approaching almost directlytoward us. As we stood watching, fifteen or twenty of them wheeled anddashed off to the west, from which direction we had come the nightbefore. 

Searching the country to see what it was which had caused thisunexpected maneuver, we observed two mounted soldiers approaching us onthe trail. Obviously they were bearing dispatches from the command ofGeneral Merritt. 

It was clear that the Indians who had left their main body were intenton intercepting and murdering these two men. General Merritt greatlyfeared that they would accomplish this purpose. How to aid them was aproblem. If soldiers were sent to their assistance, the Indians wouldobserve the rescuers, and come to the right conclusion that a body oftroops was lying in wait for them. This of course would turn them back, and the object of our expedition would be defeated. 

The commander asked me if I had any suggestions. 

"General, " I replied, "why not wait until the scouts get a littlenearer? When they are about to charge on the two men, I will takefifteen soldiers, dash down and cut them off from their main body. Thatwill prevent them from going back to report, and the others will fallinto our trap. "

The general at once saw the possibilities of the scheme. "If you can dothat, Cody, go ahead, " he said. 

I at once rushed back to the command and jumped on my horse. 

With fifteen of the best men I could pick in a hurry I returned to thepoint of observation. I placed myself and my men at the order ofGeneral Merritt, and asked him to give me the word at the proper time. 

He was diligently studying the country before him with hisfield-glasses. When he thought the Indians were as close to theunsuspecting scouts as was safe, he sang out:

"Go on now, Cody, and be quick about it. They are going to charge onthe couriers. "

The two soldiers were not more than a hundred yards from us. TheIndians, now making ready to swoop down, were a hundred yards furtheron. 

We tore over the bluffs and advanced at a gallop. They saw us and gavebattle. A running fight lasted for several minutes, during which wedrove them back a fairly safe distance and killed three of theirnumber. 

The main body of the Cheyennes had now come into plain sight, and themen who escaped from us rode back toward it. The main force halted whenits leaders beheld the skirmish, and seemed for a time at a loss as towhat was best to do. 

We turned toward General Merritt, and when we had made about half thedistance the Indians we had been chasing suddenly turned toward us andanother lively skirmish took place. 

One of the Indians, who was elaborately decorated with all theornaments usually worn by a great chief when he engaged in a fight, sawme and sang out:

"I know you, Pa-ho-has-ka! Come and fight with me!"

The name he used was one by which I had long been known by the Indians. It meant Long-Yellow-Hair. 

The chief was riding his horse to and fro in front of his men, in orderto banter me. I concluded to accept his challenge. I turned andgalloped toward him for fifty yards, and he rode toward me about thesame distance. Both of us rode at full speed. When we were only thirtyyards apart I raised my rifle and fired. His horse dropped dead underhim, and he rolled over on the ground to clear himself of the carcass. 

Almost at the same instant my own horse stepped into a hole and fellheavily. The fall hurt me but little, and almost instantly I was on myfeet. This was no time to lie down and nurse slight injuries. The chiefand I were now both on our feet, not twenty paces apart. We fired ateach other at the same instant. My usual luck held. His bullet whizzedharmlessly past my head, while mine struck him full in the breast. 

He reeled and fell, but I took no chances. He had barely touched theground, when I was upon him, knife in hand, and to make sure of himdrove the steel into his heart. 

This whole affair, from beginning to end, occupied but little time. TheIndians, seeing that I was a little distance from my pony, now camecharging down upon me from the hill, in the hope of cutting me off. 

General Merritt had witnessed the duel, and, realizing the danger I wasin, ordered Colonel Mason with Company K to hurry to my rescue. Thisorder came none too soon. Had it been given one minute later twohundred Indians would have been upon me, and this present narrationwould have had to be made by some one else. As the soldiers came up Iswung the war-bonnet high in the air and shouted: "The first scalp forCuster!"

It was by this time clear to General Merritt that he could not ambushthe Indians. So he ordered a general charge. For a time they made astubborn resistance, but no eight hundred Indians, or twice thatnumber, for that matter, could make a successful stand against suchveteran and fearless fighters as the Fifth Cavalry. They soon came tothat conclusion themselves and began a running retreat for the RedCloud Agency. 

For thirty-five miles, over the roughest kind of ground, we drove thembefore us. Soon they were forced to abandon their spare horses and allthe equipment they had brought along. Despite the imminent risk ofencountering thousands of other Indians at the Agency, we drove ourlate adversaries directly into it. No one in our command had anyassurance that the Indians gathered there had not gone on the warpath, but little difference that made to us. The Fifth Cavalry, on thewarpath itself, would stop at nothing. It was dark when we entered thereservation. All about us we could see the huddling forms ofIndians--thousands of them--enough, in fact, to have consummatedanother Custer massacre. But they showed no disposition to fight. 

While at the Agency I learned that the Indian I had killed in themorning was none other than Yellow Hand, a son of old Cut Nose, who wasa leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old man learned from the membersof Yellow Hand's party that I had killed his son, and sent a whiteinterpreter to me offering four mules in exchange for the young chief'swar-bonnet. This request I was obliged to refuse, as I wanted it as atrophy of the first expedition to avenge the death of Custer and hismen. 

The next morning we started to join the command of General Crook, whichwas encamped at the foot of Cloud Peak in the Big Horn Mountains. Theyhad decided to await the arrival of the Fifth Cavalry before proceedingagainst the Sioux, who were somewhere near the head of the Big HornRiver, in a country that was as nearly inaccessible as any of theWestern fastnesses. By making rapid marches we reached Crook's camp onGoose Creek about the third of August. 

At this camp I met many of my old friends, among them being ColonelRoyal, who had just received his promotion to a lieutenant-colonelcy. Royal introduced me to General Crook, whom I had never met before, butwith whose reputation as an Indian fighter I was of course familiar, aswas everybody in the West. The general's chief guide was Frank Grouard, a half-breed, who had lived six years with Sitting Bull himself, andwho was thoroughly familiar with the Sioux and their country. 

After one day in camp the whole command pulled out for Tongue River, leaving the wagons behind. Our supplies were carried by a bigpack-train. Down the Tongue we marched for two days of hard going, thence westerly to the Rosebud River. Here we struck the main Indiantrail leading down-stream. From the size of this trail, which was notmore than four days old, we estimated that at least seven thousandIndians, one of the biggest Indian armies ever gathered together, musthave gone that way. It was here that we were overtaken by Captain JackCrawford, widely known East and West as "The Poet Scout. " Crawford hadjust heard of the Custer massacre, and had written a very creditablepoem upon receipt of the news. His pen was always ready, and he mademany epics of the West, many of which are still popular throughout thecountry. 

Jack was a tenderfoot at that time, having lately come to that country. But he had abundant pluck and courage. He had just brought dispatchesto Crook from Fort Fetterman, riding more than three hundred milesthrough a country literally alive with hostile Indians. Thesedispatches notified Crook that General Terry was to operate with alarge command south of the Yellowstone, and that the two commands wouldprobably consolidate somewhere on the Rosebud. On learning that I waswith Crook, Crawford at once hunted me up, and gave me a letter fromGeneral Sheridan, announcing his appointment as a scout. He alsoinformed me that he had brought me a present from General Jones, ofCheyenne. 

"What kind of a present?" I inquired, seeing no indication of anypackage about Jack. 

"A bottle of whisky!" he almost shouted. 

I clapped my hand over his mouth. News that whisky was in the camp waslikely to cause a raid by a large number of very dry scouts and soldiermen. Only when Jack and I had assured ourselves that we were absolutelyalone did I dare dip into his saddle pockets and pull forth thetreasure. I will say in passing that I don't believe there is anotherscout in the West that would have brought a full bottle of whisky threehundred miles. But Jack was "bone dry. " As Crawford refused to join me, and I was never a lone drinker, I invited General Carr over to samplethe bottle. We were just about to have a little drink for two wheninto camp rode young Lathrop, the reporter for the Associated Press towhom we had given the name of Death Rattler. Death Rattler appeared tohave scented the whisky from afar, for he had no visible errand withus. We were glad to have him, however, as he was a good fellow, andcertainly knew how to appreciate a drink. 

For two or three days the command pushed on, but we did not seem togain much on the Indians. They apparently knew exactly where we wereand how fast we were going, and they moved just as fast as we did. 

On the fourth day of our pursuit I rode about ten miles ahead of thecommand till I came to a hill which gave a fine view of the surroundingcountry. Mounting this, I searched the hills with my field-glasses. Soon I saw a great column of smoke rising about ten miles down thecreek. As this cloud drifted aside in the keen wind, I could see acolumn of men marching beneath it. These I at first believed to be theIndians we were after, but closer study revealed them as GeneralTerry's soldiers. 

I forthwith dispatched a scout who was with me to take this news toCrook. But he had no more than gone when I discovered a band of Indianson the opposite side of the creek and another party of them directly infront of me. For a few minutes I fancied that I had made a mistake, andthat the men I had seen under the dust were really Indians after all. 

But very shortly I saw a body of soldiers forming a skirmish line. ThenI knew that Terry's men were there, and that the Indians I had seenwere Terry's scouts. These Indians had mistaken me for an Indian, and, believing that I was the leader of a big party, shouted excitedly: "TheSioux are coming. " That is why the general threw out the skirmish lineI had observed. 

General Terry, on coming into the Post, ordered the Seventh Cavalry toform a line of battle across the Rosebud; he also brought up hisartillery and had the guns unlimbered for action, doubtless dreadinganother Custer massacre. 

These maneuvers I witnessed from my hill with considerable amusement, thinking the command must be badly frightened. After I had enjoyed thesituation to my heart's content I galloped toward the skirmish line, waving my hat. When I was within a hundred yards of the troops, ColonelWier of the Seventh Cavalry rode out to meet me. He recognized me atonce, and convoyed me inside the line, shouting to the soldiers:

"Boys, here's Buffalo Bill!" Thereupon three rousing cheers ran all theway down the line. 

Colonel Wier presented me to General Terry. The latter questioned meclosely and was glad to learn that the alarm had been a false one. Ifound that I was not entitled alone to the credit of having frightenedthe whole Seventh Cavalry. The Indian scouts had also seen far behindme the dust raised by Crook's troops, and were fully satisfied that avery large force of Sioux was in the vicinity and moving to the attack. 

At General Terry's request I accompanied him as he rode forward to meetCrook. That night both commands went into camp on the Rosebud. GeneralTerry had his wagon-train with him, so the camp had everything to makelife as comfortable as it can be on an Indian trail. 

The officers had large wall-tents, with portable beds to stow insidethem, and there were large hospital tents to be used as dining-rooms. Terry's camp looked very comfortable and homelike. It presented a sharpcontrast to the camp of Crook, who had for his headquarters only onesmall fly-tent, and whose cooking utensils consisted of a quart cup inwhich he brewed his own coffee, and a sharp stick on which he broiledhis bacon. When I compared these two camps I concluded that Crook was areal Indian fighter. He had plainly learned that to follow Indians asoldier must not be hampered by any great weight of luggage orequipment. 

That evening General Terry ordered General Miles, with the FifthInfantry, to return by a forced march to the Yellowstone, and toproceed by steamboat down that stream to the mouth of the Powder River, where the Indians could be intercepted in case they made an attempt tocross the stream. The regiment made a forced march that night ofthirty-five miles, which was splendid traveling for an infantryregiment through a mountainous country. 

Generals Crook and Terry spent the evening and the next day in council. The following morning both commands moved out on the Indian trail. Although Terry was the senior officer, he did not assume command ofboth expeditions. Crook was left in command of his own troops, thoughthe two forces operated together. We crossed the Tongue River and movedon to the Powder, proceeding down that stream to a point twenty milesfrom its junction with the Yellowstone. There the Indian trail turnedto the southeast, in the direction of the Black Hills. 

The two commands were now nearly out of supplies. The trail wasabandoned, and the troops kept on down the Powder River to itsconfluence with the Yellowstone. There we remained for several days. 

General Nelson A. Miles, who was at the head of the Fifth Infantry, andwho had been scouting in the vicinity, reported that no Indians had asyet crossed the Yellowstone. Several steamboats soon arrived with largequantities of supplies, and the soldiers, who had been a little tooclose to famine to please them, were once more provided with fullstomachs on which they could fight comfortably, should the need forfighting arise. 

One evening while we were in camp on the Yellowstone at the mouth ofthe Powder River I was informed that Louis Richard, a half-breed scout, and myself, had been selected to accompany General Miles on areconnaisance. We were to take the steamer _Far West_ down theYellowstone as far as Glendive Creek. We were to ride in thepilot-house and keep a sharp look-out for Indians on both banks of theriver. The idea of scouting from a steamboat was to me an altogethernovel one, and I was immensely pleased at the prospect. 

At daylight the next morning we reported on the steamer to GeneralMiles, who had with him four or five companies of his regiment. We weresomewhat surprised when he asked us why we had not brought our horses. We were at a loss to see how we could employ horses in the pilothouseof a river steamboat. He said that we might need them before we gotback, so we sent for them and had them brought on board. 

In a few minutes we were looking down the river, the swift currentenabling the little steamer to make a speed of twenty miles an hour. 

The commander of the _Far West_ was Captain Grant March, a fine chap ofwhom I had often heard. For many years he was one of the most famousswift-water river captains in the country. It was on his steamer thatthe wounded from the battle of the Little Big Horn had been transportedto Fort Abraham Lincoln, on the Missouri River. On that trip he madethe fastest steamboat time on record. He was an excellent pilot, andhandled his boat in those swift and dangerous waters with remarkabledexterity. 

With Richard and me at our station in the pilothouse the little steamerwent flying down-stream past islands, around bends, and over sandbarsat a rate that was exhilarating, but sometimes a little disquieting tomen who had done most of their navigating on the deck of a Westernpony. Presently, far away inland, I thought I could see horses grazing, and reported this belief to General Miles. The general pointed out alarge tree on the bank, and asked the captain if he could land the boatthere. 

"I can not only land her there; I can make her climb the tree if youthink it would be any use, " returned March. 

He brought the boat skillfully alongside the tree, and let it go atthat, as the general could see no particular advantage in sending thesteamboat up the tree. 

Richard and I were ordered to take our horses and push out as rapidlyas possible to see if there were any Indians in the vicinity. Meanwhile, General Miles kept his soldiers in readiness to marchinstantly if we reported any work for them to do. 

As we rode off, Captain March, sang out:

"Boys, if there was only a heavy dew on the grass, I could send the oldcraft right along after you. "

It was a false alarm, however. The objects I had seen proved to beIndian graves, with only good Indians in them. On arriving at GlendiveCreek we found that Colonel Rice and his company of the Fifth Infantrywhich had been sent on ahead by General Miles had built a good littlefort with their trowel bayonets. Colonel Rice was the inventor of thisweapon, and it proved very useful in Indian warfare. It is just asdeadly in a charge as the regular bayonet, and can also be used almostas effectively as a shovel for digging rifle-pits and throwing upintrenchments. 

The _Far West_ was to remain at Glendive overnight. General Mileswanted a scout to go at once with messages for General Terry, and I wasselected for the job. That night I rode seventy-five miles through theBad Lands of the Yellowstone. I reached General Terry's camp the nextmorning, after having nearly broken my neck a dozen times or more. 

Anyone who has seen that country in the daytime knows that it is notexactly the kind of a place one would pick out for pleasure riding. Imagine riding at night, over such a country, filled with almost everyimaginable obstacle to travel, and without any real roads, and you canunderstand the sort of a ride I had that night. I was mighty glad tosee the dawn break, and to be able to pick my way a little moresecurely, although I could not increase the pace at which I had drivenmy horse through the long, dark night. 

There was no present prospect of carrying this out, however. After Ihad taken lunch, General Terry asked me if I would carry somedispatches to General Whistler, and I replied that I would be glad todo so. Captain Smith, Terry's aide-de-camp, offered me his horse, and Iwas glad to accept the animal, as my own was pretty well spent. Heproved to be a fine mount. I rode him forty miles that night in fourhours, reaching General Whistler's steamboat at four in the morning. When Whistler had read the dispatches I handed him he said:

"Cody, I want to send information to General Terry concerning theIndians that have been skirmishing around here all day. I have beentrying to induce some member in my command to carry them, but no onewants to go. "

"Get your dispatches ready, general, " I replied, "and I'll take them. "

He went into his quarters and came out presently with a package, whichhe handed me. I mounted the same horse which had brought me, and ateight o'clock that evening reached Terry's headquarters, just as hisforce was about to march. 

As soon as Terry had read the dispatches he halted his command, whichwas already under way. Then he rode on ahead to overtake General Crook, with whom he held a council. At General Terry's urgent request Iaccompanied him on a scout for Dry Fork, on the Missouri. We marchedthree days, a little to the east of north. When we reached the buffalorange we discovered some fresh Indian signs. The redskins had beenkilling buffalo, and the evidences of their work were very plain. Terrynow called on me to carry dispatches to Colonel Rice, who was stillencamped at the mouth of Glendive Creek on the Yellowstone. This wasabout eighty miles distant. 

Night had set in with a storm. A drizzling rain was falling, which madethe going slippery, and made the blackness of the Western Plains stillblacker. I was entirely unacquainted with the section of the countrythrough which I was to ride. I therefore traveled all night andremained in seclusion in the daytime. I had too many plans for thefuture to risk a shot from a hostile redskin who might be hunting whitemen along my way. 

At daylight I unsaddled my mount and made a hearty breakfast of baconand hardtack. Then I lighted my pipe, and, making a pillow of mysaddle, lay down to rest. 

The smoke and the fatigue of the night's journey soon made me drowsy, and before I knew it I was fast asleep. Suddenly I was awakened by aloud rumbling noise. I seized my gun instantly, and sprang toward myhorse, which I had picketed in a hidden spot in the brush near by wherehe would be out of sight of any passing Indians. 

Climbing a steep hill, I looked cautiously over the country from whichthe noise appeared to come. There before me was a great herd ofbuffalo, moving at full gallop. Twenty Indians were behind it, ridinghard and firing into the herd as they rode. Others near by were cuttingup the carcasses of the animals that had already been killed. 

I saddled my horse and tied him near me. Then I crawled on my stomachto the summit of the hill, and for two hours I lay there watching theprogress of the chase. 

When the Indians had killed all the buffalo they wanted they rode offin the direction whence they had come. This happened to be the way thatI hoped to go on my own expedition. I made up my mind that their campwas located somewhere between me and Glendive Creek. I was not at alleager to have any communication with these gentlemen. Therefore, when Iresumed my journey at nightfall, I made a wide detour around the placewhere I believed their camp would be. I avoided it successfully, reaching Colonel Rice's camp just after daybreak. 

The colonel had been fighting Indians almost every day since heencamped at this point. He was anxious that Terry should know of thisso that reënforcements might be sent, and the country cleared of theredskins. Of course it fell to my lot to carry this word back to Terry. 

I undertook the mission willingly enough, for by this time I was prettywell used to night riding through a country beset with perils, andrather enjoyed it. 

The strain of my recent rides had told on me, but the excitement boreme up. Indeed, when a man is engaged in work of this kind, theexhilaration is such that he forgets all about the wear and tear on hissystem, and not until all danger is over and he is safely resting incamp does he begin to feel what he has been through. Then a good longsleep usually puts him all right again. 

Many and many a time I have driven myself beyond what I believed wasthe point of physical endurance, only to find that I was ready forstill further effort if the need should arise. The fact that Icontinued in rugged health during all the time I was on the Plains, andhave had little illness throughout my life, seems to prove that livingand working outdoors, despite its hardships, is far better for a manthan any sedentary occupation can possibly be. 

I started back to overhaul General Terry, and on the third day out Ifound him at the head of Deer Creek. He was on his way to ColonelRice's camp. He was headed in the right direction, but bearing too fareast. He asked me to guide his command in the right course, which Idid. On arriving at Glendive I bade good-by to the general and hisofficers and took passage on the _Far West_, which was on her way downthe Missouri. At Bismarck I left the steamer, and proceeded by rail toRochester, New York. 

It has been a great pleasure to me to meet and know and serve with suchmen as Crook and Miles. I had served long enough on the Plains to knowIndian fighters when I saw them, and I cannot close this chapterwithout a tribute to both of these men. 

Miles had come to the West as a young man with a brilliant war record, having risen to a major-general of volunteers at the age, I think, of26 or 27. 

He took naturally to Indian fighting. He quickly divested himself ofall the tactics that were useless in this particular kind of warfare, and learned as much about the Indians as any man ever knew. 

Years later, when I was giving my Wild West Show in Madison SquareGarden, General Miles visited it as my guest. 

The Indians came crowding around him, and followed him wherever hewent, although other army officers of high reputation accompanied himon the visit. 

This Indian escort at last proved to be almost embarrassing, for thegeneral could not go to any part of the Garden without four or five ofthe braves silently dogging his footsteps and drinking in his everyword. 

When this was called to my attention I called one of the old men asideand asked him why he and his brothers followed Miles so eagerly. 

"Heap big chief!" was the reply. "Him lickum Injun chiefs. Him biggestWhite Chief. Heap likum. " Which was really a very high tribute, asIndians are not given to extravagant praise. 

When we have met from time to time General Miles has been kind enoughto speak well of me and the work I have done on the Plains. I am veryglad to have this opportunity of returning the compliment. 

Crook was a man who lived and fought without any ostentation, but whohad high courage and used rare judgment. The fact that he had commandof the forces in the West had much to do with their successes insubduing the hostile red man. Indeed, had not our army taught theIndians that it was never safe, and usually extremely dangerous, to goon the warpath against the Big White Chief, organizations might havebeen formed which would have played sad havoc with our growing Westerncivilization. 

I am and always have been a friend of the Indian. I have alwayssympathized with him in his struggle to hold the country that was hisby right of birth. 

But I have always held that in such a country as America the march ofcivilization was inevitable, and that sooner or later the men who livedin roving tribes, making no real use of the resources of the country, would be compelled to give way before the men who tilled the soil andused the lands as the Creator intended they should be used. 

In my dealings with the Indians we always understood each other. In afight we did our best to kill each other. In times of peace we werefriends. I could always do more with the Indians than most white men, and I think my success in getting so many of them to travel with myorganization was because I understood them and they understood me. 

Shrewd as were the generals who conducted the fight against theIndians, I believe they could have done little without the services ofthe men who all over the West served them in the capacity of scouts. 

The adventures of small scouting parties were at times even morethrilling than the battles between the Indians and the troops. 

Among the ablest of the scouts I worked with in the West were FrankGrouard and Baptiste Pourier. At one time in his childhood Grouard wasto all intents and purposes a Sioux Indian. He lived with the tribe, hunted and fought with them, and wore the breech-clout as his onlysummer garment. 

He met some hunters and trappers while living this life. Their languagerecalled his childhood, and he presently deserted his red-skinnedfriends and came back to his own race. 

His knowledge of the tongues of the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Crow Indiansand his marvelous proficiency in the universal sign language made himan extremely desirable acquisition to the service. 

Grouard and "Big Bat" (Baptiste Pourier) were the two scouts thatguided Lieutenant Sibley, a young officer of experience and ability, ona scout with about thirty officers and John Finnerty of the Chicago_Times_, a newspaper man who was known all over the West. 

At eight o'clock at night they left their halting-place, Big GooseCreek, and in the silent moonlight made a phantom promenade toward theLittle Big Horn. 

Presently they made out the presence of a war party ahead of them, andone of the scouts of this outfit began riding around in a circle, whichmeant that the enemy had been discovered. 

There were too many Indians to fight in the open, so Grouard led thesoldiers to a deep thicket where there were plenty of logs and fallentimber out of which to make breastworks. 

The Indians repeatedly circled around them and often charged, but thewhite men, facing a massacre like that of Custer's men, steadily heldthem at bay by accurate shooting. 

Soon red reënforcements began to arrive. The Indians, feeling that theyhad now a sufficient advantage, attempted another charge, as the resultof which they lost White Antelope, one of the bravest of their chiefs. 

This dampened their ardor, but they kept up an incessant firing thatrattled against the log breastworks like hailstones. 

Fearing that the Indians would soon start a fire and burn them out, Sibley ordered a retreat. The two scouts were left behind to keep up adesultory fire after night had fallen, in order to make the Indiansthink the party was still in its breastworks. Then the other men insingle file struggled up the precipitous sides of the mountain abovethem, marching, stumbling, climbing, and falling according to thecharacter of the ground they passed over. 

The men left behind finally followed on. The temperature fell belowzero, and the night was one of suffering and horror. At last theygained a point in the mountains about twenty-five miles distant fromCrook's command. 

Halting in a sheltered cave, they got a little sleep and started outjust in time to escape observation by a large war-party which wasscouting in their direction. 

At night the jaded party, more dead than alive, forded Tongue River upto their armpits. Two were so exhausted that it was not consideredadvisable to permit them to plunge into the icy stream, and they wereleft on the bank till help could be sent to them. 

Those that got across dragged themselves over the trail to Crook'scamp. The rocks had broken their boots, and with bleeding feet and manya bullet wound they managed to get within sight of the camp, where twomen of the Second Cavalry found them and brought them in. 

Sibley's men threw themselves on the ground, too exhausted to goanother step. Hot food was brought them, and they soon were strongenough to go to Camp Cloud Peak, to receive the hospitality andsympathy of their comrades. The two men who had been left behind werebrought in and cared for. 

This expedition was one of the most perilous in the history of thePlains, and the fact that there were any survivors is due to the skill, coolness, and courage of the two scouts, Grouard and Pourier. 

CHAPTER X

My work on the Plains brought me many friends, among them being some ofthe truest and staunchest that any man ever had. You who live yourlives in cities or among peaceful ways cannot always tell whether yourfriends are the kind who would go through fire for you. But on thePlains one's friends have an opportunity to prove their mettle. And Ifound out that most of mine would as cheerfully risk their lives for meas they would give me a light for my pipe when I asked it. 

Such a friend was old "Buffalo Chips, " who certainly deserves a placein these memoirs of mine. 

One morning while I was sitting on my porch at North Platte, playingwith my children, I saw a man limping on crutches from the direction ofthe Post hospital. He was a middle-aged man, but had long, flowingwhite hair, and the most deeply-pitted face I have ever beheld. 

Noticing that he seemed confused and in trouble, I sent the childrenout to bring him to me. He came up haltingly, and in response to myquestioning told me that he had been rejected by the hospital becausehe had been a Confederate soldier and it was against their rules toaccept any but Union veterans. 

I turned the stranger over to my sister, who prepared a meal for himwhile I went over to the adjutant's office to see what could be done. Imet General Emory in the adjutant's office, and on my promise to paythe ex-Confederate's bills, he gave me an order admitting him to thehospital. Soon my new protégé, who said his name was Jim White, wasduly installed, and receiving the treatment of which he stood in soreneed. 

In a few weeks he had nearly recovered from the wound in his leg whichhad necessitated the use of his crutches. Every day he came to my houseto play with the children and to care for my horses, a service forwhich he gruffly refused to accept any pay. 

Now and then he would borrow one of my rifles for a little practice. Isoon discovered that he was a splendid shot, as well as an unusuallyfine horseman. My surprise at these accomplishments was somewhatlessened when he told me that he had spent his four years' war serviceas one of General J. E. B. Stuart's scouts. Stuart had no other kind ofmen in his command. 

For years, wherever I went, no matter how dangerous the errand, my newfriend went along. The first time he followed me I still remembervividly. I had left the Post on a five days' scout, and wasparticularly anxious that no one should know the direction I was totake. 

When I was four or five miles from the Post I looked back and saw asolitary horseman riding in my direction about a mile in my rear. WhenI stopped he stopped. I rode on for a little way and looked aroundagain. He was exactly the same distance behind me, and pulled his horseup when I halted. This maneuver I repeated several times, always withthe same result. Considerably disquieted by this mysterious pursuit, Idecided to discover the reason for it. I whipped up my horse and when Ihad put a sandhill between myself and the man behind I made a quickdetour through a ravine, and came up in his rear. Then I boldly rode uptill I came abreast of him. 

He swung around when he heard me coming, and blushed like a girl whenhe saw how I had tricked him. 

"Look here, White, " I demanded, "what the devil are you following me inthis way for?"

"Mrs. Cody said I could follow you if I wanted to, " he said, "and, well, I just followed you, that's all. "

That was all he would say. But I knew that he had come along to keep mefrom getting hurt if I was attacked, and would rather die than admithis real reason. So I told him to come along, and come along he did. 

There was no need for his services on that occasion, but a little laterhe put me in debt to him for my life. He and I rode together into aborder town, where there were a few gentlemen in the horse-stealingbusiness who had reason to wish me moved along to some other sphere. Ileft White to look after the horses as we reached the town, and wentinto a hotel to get a nip, for which I felt a very great need. Whitenoticed a couple of rough-looking chaps behind the barn as he put thehorses away and quietly slipped to a window where he could overheartheir conversation. 

"We'll go in while he is taking a drink, " one of them was saying, "andshoot him from behind. He'll never have a chance. "

Without a word to me, White hurried into the hotel and got behind thedoor. Presently the two men entered, both with drawn revolvers. Butbefore they could raise them White covered them with his own weapon andcommanded them sternly to throw up their hands, an order with whichthey instantly complied after one look at his face. 

I wheeled at the order, and recognized his two captives as the men Iwas looking for, a pair of horse-thieves and murderers whom I had beensent to apprehend. My revolvers were put into instant requisition, andI kept them covered while White removed the guns with which they hadexpected to put me out of their way. 

With White's help I conducted these gentlemen forty miles back to thesheriff's office, and they walked every step of the way. Each of themgot ten years in the penitentiary as soon as they could be tried. Theyeither forgave me or forgot me when they got out, for I never heard ofeither of them again. 

In the campaign of 1876 I secured employment for White as a scout. Hewas with me when Terry and Crook's commands separated on theYellowstone. By this time he had come to copy my gait, my dress, myspeech, and even my fashion of wearing my hair down on my shoulders, though mine at that time was brown, and his was white as the drivensnow. 

We were making a raid on an Indian village, which was peopled with verylively and very belligerent savages. I had given White an old red-linedcoat, one which I had worn conspicuously in a number of battles, andwhich the Indians had marked as a special target on that account. 

A party of Indians had been driven from among the lodges into a narrowgorge, and some of the soldiers, among them Captain Charles King, hadgone after them. As they were proceeding cautiously, keeping tindercover as much as possible, King observed White creeping along theopposite bluff, rifle in hand, looking for a chance at the savageshuddled below, and hoping to distract their fire so they would do aslittle damage as possible to the soldiers who were closing in on them. 

White crawled along on all-fours till he reached a stunted tree on thebrim of the ravine. There he halted, brought his rifle to his shoulderin readiness to aim and raised himself slowly to his feet. He was aboutto fire, when one of the Indians in the hole below spotted thered-lined coat. There was a crack, a puff of smoke, and White toppledover, with a bullet through his heart. The coat had caught theattention of the savages, and thus I had been the innocent means of myfriend's death; for, with the soldiers pressing them so hard, it is notlikely that any of the warriors would have wasted a shot had they notthought they were getting Pa-ho-has-ka. For a long time the Indiansbelieved that I would be a menace to them no more. But they discoveredtheir mistake later, and I sent a good many of them to the HappyHunting-Grounds as a sort of tribute to my friend. 

Poor old White! A more faithful man never took a trail, nor a braver. He was a credit to me, and to the name which General Sheridan had firstgiven him in derision, but which afterward became an honor, the name of"Buffalo Chips. "

When Terry and Crook's commands joined on the Yellowstone both commandswent into camp together and guards were placed to prevent surprise. Thescene was typical of the Old West, but it would astonish anyone whosewhole idea of warfare has been gained by a visit to a modern militarypost or training camp, or the vast camps where the reserve forces aredrilled and equipped for the great European war. 

Generals Crook, Merritt, and Carr were in rough hunting rigs, utterlywithout any mark of their rank. Deerskin, buckskin, corduroy, canvas, and rags indiscriminately covered the rest of the command, so thatunless you knew the men it was totally impossible to distinguishbetween officers and enlisted men. However, every one in the commandsknew every one else, and there was no confusion. 

A great part of that night was spent in swapping stories of recentexperiences. All of them were thrilling, even to veteran campaignersfresh from the trail. There was no need of drawing the long bow inthose days. The truth was plenty exciting enough to suit the mostexacting, and we sat about like schoolboys, drinking in each other'stales, and telling our own in exchange. 

A story of a personal adventure and a hairbreadth escape in whichLieutenant De Rudio figured was so typical of the fighting days of theWest that I want my readers to know it. I shall tell it, as nearly as Ican, just as it came to me around the flickering fire in thatpicturesque border camp. 

De Rudio had just returned from his adventure, and he told it to usbetween puffs of his pipe so realistically that I caught several of myold friends of the Plains peering about into the darkness as if to makesure that no lurking redskins were creeping up on them. 

In the fight of a few days before De Rudio was guarding a pony crossingwith eight men when one of them sang out:

"Lieutenant, get your horse, quick. Reno (the commander of the outfit)is retreating!" No trumpet had sounded, however, and no orders had beengiven, so the lieutenant hesitated to retire. His men left in a hurry, but he remained, quietly waiting for the call. 

Presently, looking behind him, he saw thirty or forty Indians comingfull gallop. He wheeled and started to get into safer quarters. As liedid so they cut loose with a volley. He leaned low on his horse as theyshot, and the bullets sang harmlessly over his head. 

Before him was a fringe of thick underbrush along the river, and intothis he forced his unwilling horse. The bullets followed and clippedthe twigs about him like scissors. At last he gained the creek, forded, and mounted the bank on the other side. Here, instead of safety, hefound hundreds of Indians, all busily shooting at the soldiers, whowere retreating discreetly in the face of a greatly superior force. Hewas entirely cut off from retreat, unless he chose to make a bold dashfor his life right through the middle of the Indians. This he was aboutto do, when a young Indian, who had observed him, sent a shot afterhim, and his horse fell dead under him, rolling over and over, while hemanaged to scramble to his feet. 

The shot had attracted the attention of all the Indians in thatimmediate neighborhood, and there were plenty of them there for alloffensive purposes. De Rudio jumped down the creek bank and hid in anexcavation while a hail of bullets spattered the water ahead of him andraised a dozen little clouds of dust at his feet. 

So heavy had this volley been that the Indians decided that the bulletshad done their work, and a wild yell broke from them. 

Suddenly the yell changed to another sort of outcry, and the firingabruptly ceased. Peering out, De Rudio saw Captain Benteen's columncoming up over the hill. He began to hope that his rescue was at hand. But in a few minutes the soldiers disappeared and the Indians allstarted off after them. 

Just beyond the hill was the noise of a lively battle, and he made uphis mind that Reno's command had rallied, and that if he could jointhem he might be saved. 

Working his way softly through the brush he was nearing the summit ofthe slope when he heard his name whispered and saw three of his owncompany in the brush. Two of them were mounted. The horse of the thirdhad been killed. 

The three men remained in the bushes, lying as low as they could andmaking no sound. Looking out now and then, they could see an old Indianwoman going about, taking scalps and mutilating the bodies of thesoldiers who had been slain. Most of the warriors were occupied withthe battle, but now and then a warrior, suspicious that soldiers werestill lurking in the brush, would ride over in their direction and firea few shots that whistled uncomfortably close to their heads. 

Presently the firing on the hill ceased, and hundreds of Indians cameslowly back. But they were hard pressed by the soldiers, and the battlewas soon resumed, to break out intermittently through the entire night. 

In a quiet interval the two soldiers got their horses, and with theircompanion and De Rudio holding to the animals' tails forded the riverand made a détour round the Indians. Several times they passed close toIndians. Once or twice they were fired on and answered the fire, buttheir luck was with them and they escaped bringing a general attackdown upon them. 

As they were making their way toward the edge of the clearing they sawdirectly before them a party of men dressed in the ragged uniforms ofAmerican cavalrymen, and all drew deep breaths of relief. Help seemednow at hand. But just as they sprang forward to join their supposedcomrades a fiendish yell broke from the horsemen. In another instantthe four unfortunates were rushing to cover, with a dozen Indians, alldressed in the clothing taken from dead soldiers, in hot pursuit. 

The Indians had been planning a characteristic piece of Sioux strategy. As fast as it could be accomplished they had been stripping theclothing from dead and wounded soldiers and garbing themselves in itwith the purpose of deceiving the outposts of Reno's command andsurprising the Americans as soon as day broke. Had it not been for theaccidental discovery of the ruse by De Rudio's party it might havesucceeded only too well. 

The lieutenant and his companions managed to get away safely and tofind shelter in the woods. But the Indians immediately fired theunderbrush and drove them further and further on. Then, just as theyhad begun to despair of their lives, their pursuers, who had beencircling around the tangle of scrub growth, began singing a slow chantand withdrew to the summit of the hill. 

There they remained in council a little time and then cantered awaysingle file. 

Fearing another trap, the white men remained for weary hours in theirhiding-place, but at last were compelled by thirst and hunger to comeout. 

No Indians were visible, nor did any appear as, worn out anddispirited, they dragged themselves to the camp of the soldiers. In theforty-eight hours since he had been cut off from his command De Rudiohad undergone all the horrors of Indian warfare and a hundred times hadgiven himself up for dead. 

Bullets had passed many times within a few inches of him. Half a dozentimes only a lucky chance had intervened between him and the horribledeath that Indians know so well how to inflict. Yet, save for thebruises from his fall off his horse, and the abrasions of the brushthrough which he had traveled, he had never received a scratch. 

CHAPTER XI

Of all the Indians I encountered in my years on the Plains the mostresourceful and intelligent, as well as the most dangerous, were theSioux. They had the courage of dare-devils combined with real strategy. They mastered the white man's tactics as soon as they had anopportunity to observe them. Incidentally they supplied all thinkingand observing white commanders with a great deal that was well worthlearning in the art of warfare. The Sioux fought to win, and in adesperate encounter were absolutely reckless of life. 

But they also fought wisely, and up to the minute of closing in theyconserved their own lives with a vast amount of cleverness. The maximput into words by the old Confederate fox, Forrest: "Get there fastestwith the mostest, " was always a fighting principle with the Sioux. 

They were a strong race of men, the braves tall, with finely shapedheads and handsome features. They had poise and dignity and a greatdeal of pride, and they seldom forgot either a friend or an enemy. 

The greatest of all the Sioux in my time, or in any time for thatmatter, was that wonderful old fighting man, Sitting Bull, whose lifewill some day be written by a historian who can really give him hisdue. 

Sitting Bull it was who stirred the Indians to the uprising whoseclimax was the massacre of the Little Big Horn and the destruction ofCuster's command. 

For months before this uprising he had been going to and fro among theSioux and their allies urging a revolt against the encroaching whiteman. It was easy at that time for the Indians to secure rifles. TheCanadian-French traders to the north were only too glad to trade themthese weapons for the splendid supplies of furs which the Indians hadgathered. Many of these rifles were of excellent construction, and on anumber of occasions we discovered to our cost that they outranged thearmy carbines with which we were equipped. 

After the Custer massacre the frontier became decidedly unsafe forSitting Bull and the chiefs who were associated with him, and hequietly withdrew to Canada, where he was for the time being safe frompursuit. 

There he stayed till his followers began leaving him and returning totheir reservations in the United States. Soon he had only a remnant ofhis followers and his immediate family to keep him company. Warily hebegan negotiating for immunity, and when he was fully assured that ifhe would use his influence to quiet his people and keep them from thewarpath his life would be spared, he consented to return. 

He had been lonely and unhappy in Canada. An accomplished orator and aman with a gift of leadership, he had pined for audiences to sway andfor men to do his bidding. He felt sure that these would be restored tohim once he came back among his people. As to his pledges, I have nodoubt that he fully intended to live up to them. He carried in hishead all the treaties that had been made between his people and thewhite men, and could recite their minutest details, together with thedates of their making and the names of the men who had signed for bothsides. 

But he was a stickler for the rights of his race, and he devoted farmore thought to the trend of events than did most of his red brothers. 

Here was his case, as he often presented it to me:

"The White Man has taken most of our land. He has paid us nothing forit. He has destroyed or driven away the game that was our meat. In 1868he arranged to build through the Indians' land a road on which ran ironhorses that ate wood and breathed fire and smoke. We agreed. This roadwas only as wide as a man could stretch his arms. But the White Man hadtaken from the Indians the land for twenty miles on both sides of it. This land he had sold for money to people in the East. It was takenfrom the Indians. But the Indians got nothing for it. 

"The iron horse brought from the East men and women and children, whotook the land from the Indians and drove out the game. They builtfires, and the fires spread and burned the prairie grass on which thebuffalo fed. Also it destroyed the pasturage for the ponies of theIndians. Soon the friends of the first White Men came and took moreland. Then cities arose and always the White Man's lands were extendedand the Indians pushed farther and farther away from the country thatthe Great Father had given them and that had always been theirs. 

"When treaties were broken and the Indians trespassed on the rights ofthe White Man, my chiefs and I were always here to adjust the WhiteMan's wrongs. 

"When treaties were broken and the Indians' rights were infringed, noone could find the white chiefs. They were somewhere back toward therising sun. There was no one to give us justice. New chiefs of theWhite Men came to supplant the old chiefs. They knew nothing of ourwrongs and laughed at us. 

"When the Sioux left Minnesota and went beyond the Big Muddy the whitechiefs promised them they would never again be disturbed. Then theyfollowed us across the river, and when we asked for lands they gave useach a prairie chicken's flight four ways (a hundred and sixty acres);this they gave us, who once had all the land there was, and whose habitis to roam as far as a horse can carry us and then continue our journeytill we have had our fill of wandering. 

"We are not as many as the White Man. But we know that this land is ourland. And while we live and can fight, we will fight for it. If theWhite Man does not want us to fight, why does he take our land? If wecome and build our lodges on the White Man's land, the White Man drivesus away or kills us. Have we not the same right as the White Man?"

The forfeiture of the Black Hills and unwise reduction of rations keptalive the Indian discontent. When, in 1889, Congress passed a lawdividing the Sioux reservation into many smaller ones so as to isolatethe different tribes of the Dakota nation a treaty was offered them. This provided payment for the ponies captured or destroyed in the warof 1876 and certain other concessions, in return for which the Indianswere to cede about half their land, or eleven million acres, which wasto be opened up for settlement. 

The treaty was submitted to the Indians for a vote. They came in fromthe woods and the plains to vote on it, and it was carried by a verynarrow majority, many of the Indians insisting that they had beencoerced by their necessities into casting favorable ballots. 

Congress delayed and postponed the fulfillment of the promisedconditions, and the Indian unrest increased as the months went by. Evenafter the land had been taken over and settled up, Congress did notpass the appropriation that was necessary before the Indians could gettheir money. 

Sitting Bull was appealed to for aid, and once more began employing hispowerful gift of oratory in the interest of armed resistance againstthe white man. 

Just at this time a legend whose origin was beyond all power to fathombecame current among the red men of the north. 

From one tribe to another spread the tidings that a Messiah was to comeback to earth to use his miraculous power in the interest of theIndian. The whites were to be driven from the land of the red man. Theold days of the West were to be restored. The ranges were to bere-stocked with elk, antelope, deer, and buffalo. 

Soon a fever of fanaticism had infected every tribe. Not alone were theSioux the victims of this amazing delusion, but every tribe on thecontinent shared in it. 

There was to be a universal brotherhood of red men. Old enmities wereforgotten. Former foes became fast friends. The Yaquis in Mexico sentout word that they would be ready for the great Armageddon when itcame. As far north as Alaska there were ghost dances and barbaricfestivities to celebrate the coming restoration of the Indian to thelands of his inheritance. 

And as the Indians danced, they talked and sang and thought of war, while their hatred of the white man broke violently forth. 

Very much disquieted at the news of what was going on the WarDepartment sent out word to stop the dancing and singing. Stop it! Youcould as easily have stopped the eruption of Mount Lassen! Among theother beliefs that spread among the Indians was one that all the sickwould be healed and be able to go into battle, and that young and old, squaws and braves alike, would be given shirts which would turn thesoldiers' bullets like armor-plate. 

Every redskin believed that he could not be injured. None of them hadany fear of battle, or any suspicions that he could be injured in thecourse of the great holy war that was to come. 

CHAPTER XII

In November, 1890, I was returning from Europe with my Wild WestCompany. When the New York pilot came aboard he brought a big packet ofpapers. That was before the days of wireless, and we had had no tidingsof what was going on in the world since we had left the other side. 

As he came up the ladder he recognized me, and shouted: "Colonel, there's a big Indian war started! I guess you'll be needed out there. "

I seized the papers and eagerly read the details of the threatenedoutbreak. I was not surprised when, on arriving at Quarantine, I washanded a telegram from General Miles. 

I was requested to come to Chicago as soon as possible, and totelegraph the time of my arrival. Canceling all New York engagements, Icaught the first train for the West, and in thirty-six hours reportedto General Miles in his headquarters. 

He briefly described to me what had been happening and went over withme the maps of the Western States where the Indians were getting readyfor war. He said that it was his understanding that the Bad Lands ofNorth Dakota had been selected as the battle-ground by the Indians, andasked me to give him all the information I possessed about that countryand its accessibility for troops. 

Miles was about to leave for the Pine Ridge Agency, and take command ofthe campaign to put down the Indians. 

I was thoroughly familiar with the Bad Lands, and spent an hour or morein discussing the coming campaign with the general. We both agreed thatthe Indians had selected a particularly good country for theiruprising, and an especially good season, as in winter, with the hillscovered with snow, and blizzards of almost daily occurrence, it wouldbe far harder to hunt them out than in summer, when the troops couldtravel easily. 

Miles said that Sitting Bull had his camp somewhere within forty orfifty miles of the Standing Rock Agency, and was haranguing the Indiansthereabout, spreading the Messiah talk and getting them to join him. Heasked me if I could go immediately to Standing Rock and Fort Yates, andthence to Sitting Bull's camp. 

He knew that I was an old friend of the chief, and he believed that ifany one could induce the old fox to abandon his plans for a general warI could. If I could not dissuade him from the warpath the general wasof the opinion that I might be able to delay him in taking it, so thattroops could be sent into the country in time to prevent a horriblemassacre of the defenseless white settlers, who were already in terrorof their lives. 

I knew that this would be the most dangerous undertaking of my career. I was sure that if I could reach Sitting Bull he would at least listento me. But in the present inflamed state of the Indian mind it would benext to impossible to get to his camp alive. 

Nevertheless I was quite ready to take the risk. I knew what fearfuldamage could be done by a sudden uprising of fanatical and infuriatedIndians, and any danger to me personally was as nothing to theimportance of preventing such, a thing, if possible. 

Having no standing as an army officer or as a Government agent, it wasnecessary for me to be supplied with some sort of credentials, in orderto secure the assistance I should need on my mission. When I informedGeneral Miles of this he took one of his visiting-cards from a case andwrote the following on the back of it:

 To COMMANDING OFFICERS OF UNITED STATES TROOPS:

 Furnish Colonel William F. Cody with any assistance or escort that he may ask for. 

 NELSON A. MILES. 

I took the next train for Mandan, N. D. , which was the station nearestthe Standing Rock Agency. There I hired a livery team and driver forthe ride of sixty-five miles to the Agency. I had considerabledifficulty in securing a driver, as the report had gone abroad that allthe Indians were on the warpath, and few of the settlers cared to risktheir scalps on such a venture. But I went higher and higher in myoffers, till at last a liveryman figured that a hundred dollars wassufficient reward for the risk, and, hitching up his team, told me tocome along. 

After an intensely cold drive we reached the Agency, where I hurriedinto the trader's store to thaw out by his stove. I had hardly arrivedbefore the trader came in and told me that Major McLaughlin, the Indianagent, wanted to see me. News travels very fast in the Indian country, especially in war times. Someone about the Post who had seen me drivingin had hurried to headquarters to inform the agent that Buffalo Billhad arrived by way of reënforcements. 

As soon as I got my chilled blood into circulation I went to themajor's quarters, and informed him of the purpose of my visit. We wereold friends, and he was very glad to see me, but he was much concernedon learning what I intended to do. 

"That is impossible!" he said. "The Sioux are threatening a great war. At this very moment we do not know when the Indians here at the Agencymay rise. We can take care of our own situation, for we have fourtroops of cavalry here, but we cannot permit you to go to SittingBull's camp. Not only would you be killed before you got halfway there, but your presence in the country would precipitate hostilities forwhich we are not in the least prepared. I'm sorry, Cody, but it can'tbe done. "

More fully to persuade me of the truth of what he said he took me tothe quarters of Colonel Brown, the commander of the troops at theAgency, and asked him to talk to me. Brown listened to my statement ofwhat I proposed and shook his head. 

"I've heard of you, Cody, and of your nerve, but this is more than evenyou can do. Sitting Bull's camp is forty miles away, and the countrybetween here and there is swarming with Indians all ready to go on thewarpath, and wholly beyond the sway of reason. I cannot permit you tomake this attempt. "

"Do you hear, Cody?" said McLaughlin. "The only thing for you to do isto stay all night with us and then return to the railroad. Even thatwill be risky enough, even for you. " "But go you must, " added Brown. "The Agency is under martial law, and I cannot permit you to remain anylonger than tomorrow morning. "

There was no arguing with these men. So I resorted to my credentials. Taking General Miles's card from my pocket, I laid it before ColonelBrown. 

"What does this mean?" he demanded, and passed the card to McLaughlin. 

"It looks like orders, " said McLaughlin. 

"Yes, " said Brown, "and I can't disobey them. "

Just then Captain Fatchett, an old friend of mine, came into thequarters, and Brown turned me over to him for entertainment until Ishould formulate my plans for my visit to Sitting Bull. I had neverserved with the Eighth Cavalry to which the companies at the Postbelonged, but I had many friends among the officers, and spent a verypleasant afternoon and evening talking over old times, and gettinginformation about the present situation. 

After guard-mount the next morning I told Colonel Brown that I did notthink I would require an escort for my visit, as the presence of anumber of armed men in the Indian country would be sure to start thetrouble it was our purpose to avoid, or to delay as long as possible. The man who had driven me over was anxious to return at once, so Iasked for a light spring-wagon and a team of mules. 

"Wait an hour or two, " said the colonel, "and I'll send thequartermaster to you. "

I waited, and he employed the time, as I afterward learned, intelegraphing to General Miles, to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, to the Secretary of the Interior, and to President Harrison. Heinformed all of them that I was there, insisting on going to SittingBull's camp, and that such an errand would not only result in my death, but would precipitate the outbreak then brewing, and for which he wasnot at all prepared. He besought all of them to instruct me to returnto Mandan. 

While he waited for replies to his dispatches I hunted about the campfor someone who knew just where Sitting Bull was located and how to getthere. I also wanted a first-class interpreter, as I would have mattersto discuss with Sitting Bull beyond his mastery of English or mine ofSioux to express. At last I found a man who agreed to go with me asguide for five hundred dollars, which I promised him without a protest. Then I went over to the post-trader's store and bought all manner ofpresents which I knew would be acceptable to Sitting Bull, his squaw, and his children. 

When I returned to Colonel Brown's quarters he endeavored once more toput me off. But I would not be put off. I informed him that I hadexplicit orders from General Miles as to my mission, and that if heinterfered with me he was violating the orders of his commandingofficer and running into very serious trouble. 

At last he reluctantly sent for the quartermaster, and ordered him tohave a span of good mules hitched to a light spring-wagon. 

The wagon was driven to the post-trader's store, where I found my guideand interpreter, and loaded aboard the presents I had bought for theold warrior. With plenty of robes to keep out the intense cold, westarted out on our journey, a little apprehensive, but fully determinedto go through with it. Five or six miles from the Post we met three menin a wagon driving toward the Agency. They told us that Sitting Bull'scamp had been lately moved, and that it was now further down the river. I knew that if the old man was really on the warpath he would be movingup the river, not down, so I felt considerably reassured. 

When we had proceeded a few miles further we heard a yell behind us, and, looking back, saw a rider approaching at full speed. This provedto be one of Major McLaughlin's Indian scouts. He bore a telegramreading:

 COLONEL WILLIAM F. CODY, Fort Yates, N. D. :

 The order for the detention of Sitting Bull has been rescinded. You are hereby ordered to return to Chicago and report to General Miles. 

 BENJAMIN HARRISON, President. 

That ended my mission to Sitting Bull. I still believe I could have gotsafely through the country, though there were plenty of chances that Iwould be killed or wounded in the attempt. 

I returned to the Post, turned back my presents at a loss to myself, and paid the interpreter fifty dollars for his day's work. He was veryglad to have the fifty and a whole skin, for he could not figure howthe five hundred would be of much help to him if he had been stretchedout on the Plains with an Indian bullet through him. 

I was supplied with conveyance back to Mandan by Colonel Brown and tookmy departure the next morning. Afterward, in Indianapolis, PresidentHarrison informed me that he had allowed himself to be persuadedagainst my mission in opposition to his own judgment, and said he wasvery sorry that he had not allowed me to proceed. 

It developed afterward that the people who had moved the President tointerfere consisted of a party of philanthropists who advanced theargument that my visit would precipitate a war in which Sitting Bullwould be killed, and it was to spare the life of this man that I wasstopped!

The result of the President's order was that the Ghost Dance Warfollowed very shortly, and with it came the death of Sitting Bull. 

I found that General Miles knew exactly why I had been turned back frommy trip to Sitting Bull. But he was a soldier, and made no criticism ofthe order of a superior. General Miles was glad to hear that I had beenmade a brigadier-general, but he was still more pleased with the factthat I knew so many Indians at the Agency. 

"You can get around among them, " he said, "and learn their intentionsbetter than any other man I know. "

I remained with General Miles until the final surrender of the NorthAmerican Indians to the United States Government after three hundredyears of warfare. 

This surrender was made to Miles, then lieutenant-general of the army, and it was eminently fitting that a man who had so ably conducted thefight of the white race against them and had dealt with them so justlyand honorably should have received their surrender. 

With that event ended one of the most picturesque phases of Westernlife--Indian fighting. It was with that that I was identified from myyouth to my middle age, and in the time I spent on the Plains, Indianwarfare reached its greatest severity and its highest development. 

CHAPTER XIII

In the preceding chapters I have sketched briefly some of the mostinteresting of my adventures on the Plains. It has been necessary toomit much that I would like to have told. For twenty years my life wasone of almost continuous excitement, and to tell the whole story wouldrequire many volumes. 

It was because of my great interest in the West, and my belief that itsdevelopment would be assisted by the interest I could awaken in others, that I decided to bring the West to the East through the medium of theWild West Show. How greatly I was to succeed in this venture I had noidea when it first occurred to me. As I have told you, I had alreadyappeared in a small Western show, and was the first man to bringIndians to the East and exhibit them. But the theater was too small togive any real impression of what Western life was like. Only in anarena where horses could be ridden at full gallop, where lassos couldbe thrown, and pistols and guns fired without frightening the audiencehalf to death, could such a thing be attempted. 

After getting together a remarkable collection of Indians, cowboys, Indian ponies, stage-coach drivers, and other typical denizens of myown country under canvas I found myself almost immediately prosperous. 

We showed in the principal cities of the country, and everywhere thenovelty of the exhibition drew great crowds. As owner and principalactor in the enterprise I met the leading citizens of the United Statessocially, and never lost an opportunity to "talk up" the Westerncountry, which I believed to have a wonderful future. I worked hard onthe program of the entertainment, taking care to make it realistic inevery detail. The wigwam village, the Indian war-dance, the chant ofthe Great Spirit as it was sung on the Plains, the rise and fall of thefamous tribes, were all pictured accurately. 

It was not an easy thing to do. Sometimes I had to send men on journeysof more than a hundred miles to get the right kind of war-bonnets, orto make correct copies of the tepees peculiar to a particular tribe. Itwas my effort, in depicting the West, to depict it as it was. I wasmuch gratified in after years to find that scientists who had carefullystudied the Indians, their traditions and habits, gave me credit formaking very valuable contributions to the sum of human knowledge of theAmerican native. 

The first presentation of my show was given in May, 1883, at Omaha, which I had then chosen as my home. From there we made our first summertour, visiting practically every important city in the country. 

For my grand entrance I made a spectacle which comprised the mostpicturesque features of Western life. Sioux, Arapahoes, Brulés, andCheyennes in war-paint and feathers led the van, shrieking theirwar-whoops and waving the weapons with which they were armed in amanner to inspire both terror and admiration in the tenderfootaudience. 

Next came cowboys and soldiers, all clad exactly as they were whenengaged in their campaigns against the Indians, and lumbering along inthe rear were the old stage-coaches which carried the settlers to theWest in the days before the railroad made the journey easy andpleasant. 

I am sure the people enjoyed this spectacle, for they flocked in crowdsto see it. I know I enjoyed it. There was never a day when, lookingback over the red and white men in my cavalcade, I did not know thethrill of the trail, and feel a little sorry that my Western adventureswould thereafter have to be lived in spectacles. 

Without desiring to dim the glory of any individual I can truthfullystate that the expression "rough riders, " which afterward became sofamous, was my own coinage. As I rode out at the front of my parade Iwould bow to the audience, circled about on the circus benches, andshout at the top of my voice:

"Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce you to the rough ridersof the world!"

For three years we toured the United States with great success. One dayan Englishman, whose name I never learned, came to see me after theshow. 

"That is a wonderful performance, " he told me. "Here in America itmeets with great appreciation, but you have no idea what a sensation itwould be in the Old World, where such things are unheard of. "

That set me to thinking. In a few days, after spending hours togetherconsidering the matter, I had made up my mind that Europe should havean opportunity to study America as nearly at first-hand as possiblethrough the medium of my entertainment. 

Details were soon arranged. In March, 1886, I chartered the steamer_State of Nebraska_, loaded my Indians, cowboys, horses, andstage-coaches on board, and set sail for another continent. 

It was a strange voyage. The Indians had never been to sea before, andhad never dreamed that such an expanse of water existed on the planet. They would stand at the rail, after the first days of seasickness wereover, gazing out across the waves, and trying to descry something thatlooked like land, or a tree, or anything that seemed familiar and likehome. Then they would shake their heads disconsolately and go below, tobrood and muse and be an extremely unhappy and forlorn lot of savages. The joy that seized them when at last they came in sight of land, andwere assured that we did not intend to keep on sailing till we fellover the edge of the earth, was something worth looking at. 

At Gravesend we sighted a tug flying the American colors, and when theband on board responded to our cheers with "The Star-Spangled Banner"even the Indians tried to sing. Our band replied with "Yankee Doodle, "and as we moved toward port there was more noise on board than I hadever heard in any battle on the Plains. 

When the landing was made the members of the party were sent in specialcoaches to London. Crowds stared at us from every station. The guardson the train were a little afraid of the solemn and surly-lookingIndians, but they were a friendly and jovial crowd, and when they hadrecovered from their own fright at the strange surroundings they weresoon on good terms with the Britishers. 

Major John M. Burke, who was my lifetime associate in the showbusiness, had made all arrangements for housing the big troupe. We wentto work at our leisure with our preparations to astonish the Britishpublic, and succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. The big Londonamphitheater, a third of a mile in circumference, was just the placefor such an exhibition. The artist's brush was employed on lavish scaleto reproduce the scenery of the Western Plains. I was busy for manydays with preparations, and when our spectacle was finally given it wasreceived with such a burst of enthusiasm as I had never witnessedanywhere. 

The show began, after the grand entry, with the hour of dawn on thePlains. Wild animals were scattered about. Within their tents were theIndians sleeping. As the dawn deepened the Indians came out of theirtents and went through one of their solemn and impressive war-dances. While this was going on the British audience held its breath. You couldhave heard a whisper in almost any part of the arena. 

Then in came a courier to announce the neighborhood of a hostile tribe. Instantly there was a wild scramble for mounts and weapons. The enemyrushed in, and for ten minutes there was a sham battle which filled theplace with noise and confusion. This battle was copied as exactly as itcould be copied from one of the scrimmages in which I had taken part inmy first days as a scout. Then we gave them a buffalo hunt, in which Ihad a hand, and did a little fancy shooting. As a finish there was aWild Western cyclone, and a whole Indian village was blown out ofexistence for the delectation of the English audience. 

The initial performance was given before the Prince and Princess ofWales, afterward King Edward and his Queen, and their suite. At theclose of the program the Prince and Princess, at their own request, were introduced to all the leading members of the company, includingmany of the Indians. When the cowgirls of the show were presented tothe Princess they stepped forward and offered their hands, which weretaken and well shaken in true democratic fashion. 

Red Shirt, the most important chief in the outfit, was highly pleasedwhen he learned that a princess was to visit him in his camp. He hadthe Indian gift of oratory, and he replied to her greeting with a longand eloquent speech, in which his gestures, if not his words, expressedplainly the honor he felt in receiving so distinguished a lady. Thefact that he referred to Alexandria as a squaw did not seem to mar herenjoyment. 

That the Prince was really pleased with the exhibition was shown by thefact that he made an immediate report of it to his mother. Shortlythereafter I received a command from Queen Victoria to appear beforeher. 

This troubled me a good deal--not that I was not more than eager toobey this flattering command, but that I was totally at a loss how totake my show to any of the great residences occupied by Her Majesty. 

Finally, after many cautious inquiries, I discovered that she would bewilling to visit the show if a special box was prepared for her. Thiswe did to the best of our ability. The box was placed upon a daiscovered with crimson velvet and handsomely decorated. When the Queenarrived I met her at the door of the box, with my sombrero in my handand welcomed her to "the Wild West of America. "

One of the first acts in the performance was to carry the flag to thefront. This was done by a soldier. Walking around the arena, he offeredthe Stars and Stripes as an emblem of the friendship of America to allthe world. On this occasion he carried the flag directly to the royalbox, and dipped it three times before the Queen. 

Absolute silence fell over the great throng. Then the Queen rose andsaluted the flag with a bow, her suite following her example. There wasa wild cheer from everyone in the show, Indians included, and soon allthe audience was on its feet, cheering and waving flags andhandkerchiefs. 

This gave us a fine start and we never put on a better performance. When it was all over Her Majesty sent for me, and paid me manycompliments as well as to my country and the West. I found her a mostgracious and charming woman, with none of the haughtiness which I hadsupposed was inseparable from a person of such exalted rank. Mysubsequent experiences with royalty convinced me that there is morereal democracy among the rulers of the countries of Europe than youwill find among the petty officials of a village. 

It was interesting to watch old Red Shirt when he was presented to theQueen. He clearly felt that this was a ceremony between one ruler andanother, and the dignity with which he went through the introductionwas wonderful to behold. One would have thought to watch him that mostof his life was spent in introductions to kings and queens, and that hewas really a little bored with the effort required to go through withthem. A second command from the Queen resulted in an exhibition beforea number of her royal guests, including the Kings of Saxony, Denmark, and Greece, the Queen of the Belgians, and the Crown Prince of Austria. 

The Deadwood coach, one of the features of the show, was of particularinterest to my royal guests. This was a coach with a history. It wasbuilt in Concord, N. H. , and sent by water to San Francisco to run overa route infested with road-agents. A number of times it was held up androbbed. Finally, both driver and passengers were killed and the coachabandoned on the trail. It remained for a long time a derelict, but wasafterward brought into San Francisco by an old stage-driver and placedon the Overland trail. 

As it worked its way East over the Overland route its old luck heldsteadily. Again were driver and passengers massacred; again it wasabandoned. At last, when it was "hoodooed" all over the West and noindependent driver or company would have anything to do with it Idiscovered it, bought it, and used it for my show. 

One of the incidents of my program, as all who have seen it willremember, was an Indian attack on this coach. The royal visitors wanteda real taste of Western life--insisted on it, in fact, and the Kings ofDenmark, Greece, Saxony, and the Crown Prince of Austria climbed to thebox with me. 

I had secretly instructed the Indians to throw a little real energyinto their pursuit of the coach, and they followed my instructionsrather more completely than I expected. The coach was surrounded by ademoniac band of shooting and shouting Indians. Blank cartridges weredischarged at perilously close proximity to the rulers of four greatnations. Looking around to quiet my followers, I saw that the guests ofthe occasion were a trifle pale, but they were all of them game, andcame out of the affair far less scared than were the absolutelyterrified members of the royal suites, who sat in their boxes and wrungtheir hands in wild alarm. 

In recognition of this performance the Prince of Wales sent me asouvenir consisting of a feathered crest, outlined in diamonds, withthe words "Ich dien" worked in jewels underneath. A note in thePrince's own hand expressed the pleasure of his guests in theentertainment I had provided for them. 

After a tour of the principal cities we returned to America, proud ofour success, and well rewarded in purse for our effort. 

The welcome to America was almost as elaborate as that from England. Iquote from the description of it printed in the New York _World_:

 The harbor probably has never witnessed a more picturesque scene than that of yesterday, when the _Persian Monarch_ steamed up from Quarantine. Buffalo Bill stood on the captain's bridge, his tall and striking figure clearly outlined, and his long hair waving in the wind; the gaily painted and blanketed Indians leaned over the ship's rail; the flags of all nations fluttered from the masts and connecting cables. The cowboy band played "Yankee Doodle" with a vim and enthusiasm which faintly indicated the joy felt by everybody connected with the "Wild West" over the sight of home. 

Shortly after my arrival I was much pleased by the receipt of thefollowing letter:

 FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, NEW YORK. COLONEL WM. F. CODY:

 _Dear Sir_--In common with all your countrymen, I want to let you know that I am not only gratified but proud of your management and success. So far as I can make out, you have been modest, graceful, and dignified in all you have done to illustrate the history of civilization on this continent during the past century. I am especially pleased with the compliment paid you by the Prince of Wales, who rode with you in the Deadwood coach while it was attacked by Indians and rescued by cowboys. Such things did occur in our days, but they never will again. 

 As nearly as I can estimate, there were in 1865 about nine and one-half million of buffaloes on the Plains between the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains; all are now gone, killed for their meat, their skins, and their bones. This seems like desecration, cruelty, and murder, yet they have been replaced by twice as many cattle. At that date there were about 165, 000 Pawnees, Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes, who depended upon these buffaloes for their yearly food. They, too, have gone, but they have been replaced by twice or thrice as many white men and women, who have made the earth to blossom as the rose, and who can be counted, taxed, and governed by the laws of Nature and civilization. This change has been salutary, and will go on to the end. You have caught one epoch of this country's history, and have illustrated it in the very heart of the modern world--London--and I want you to feel that on this side of the water we appreciate it. 

 This drama must end; days, years, and centuries follow fast; even the drama of civilization must have an end. All I aim to accomplish on this sheet of paper is to assure you that I fully recognize your work. The presence of the Queen, the beautiful Princess of Wales, the Prince, and the British public are marks of favor which reflect back on America sparks of light which illuminate many a house and cabin in the land where once you guided me honestly and faithfully, in 1865-66, from Fort Riley to Kearney, in Kansas and Nebraska. 

 Sincerely your friend, W. T. SHERMAN. 

Our next descent on Europe was made in the steamer _Persian Monarch_, which was again chartered. This time our destination was France. TheParisians received the show with as much favor as had the Londoners. 

Everything American became the fad during our stay. Fashionable youngmen bought American and Mexican saddles for their rides in the Bois. Cowboy hats appeared everywhere on the street. There was a great cryfor stories of the Plains and all the books that could be found thatdealt with the West were translated into the French language. Relicsfrom the Plains and mountains, bows, moccasins, and Indian baskets, sold like hot cakes in the souvenir stores. 

While in the city I accepted an invitation from Rosa Bonheur to visither at her superb château. In return I extended her the freedom of theshow, and she made many studies from life of the fine animals I hadbrought over with me. She also painted a portrait of me on my favoritehorse--a picture which I immediately sent home to my wife. 

Our sojourn in Rome was lively with incident. The Prince of Simonetta, who visited the show, declared that he had some wild horses in hisstable which no cowboy could ride. The challenge was promptly taken upby some of the dare-devils in my party. That the horses might not runamuck and injure anyone, special booths were erected in the show arena, where the trial was to be made. 

The greatest enthusiasm was manifested by the Romans in theperformance, and it was clear to me that most of them looked eagerlyforward to the mortal injury of some of the members of my company. TheLatin delight in sports like those of the old Roman arena had by nomeans died out. 

When the horses were loosed in the ring they sprang into the air, snorted, kicked up their heels, and plainly defied any of the cowboysto do so much as to lay a hand on them. But in less time than I cantell it the plainsmen had sent their lassos hurtling through the air, and the horses discovered that they had met their masters. Theaudience, always strong for the winners, forgot their disappointment inthe absence of fatalities, and howled with delight as the cowboys, oneafter another, mounted the fractious horses and trotted themsubmissively about the arena. We closed this tour of Europe, which wassuccessful to the end, with a second visit to England. 

I have now come to the end of my story. It is a story of "The GreatWest that Was, " a West that is gone forever. 

All my interests are still with the West--the modern West. I have anumber of homes there, the one I love best being in the wonderful BigHorn Valley, which I hope one day to see one of the garden spots of theworld. 

In concluding, I want to express the hope that the dealings of thisGovernment of ours with the Indians will always be just and fair. Theywere the inheritors of the land that we live in. They were not capableof developing it, or of really appreciating its possibilities, but theyowned it when the White Man came, and the White Man took it away fromthem. It was natural that they should resist. It was natural that theyemployed the only means of warfare known to them against those whomthey regarded as usurpers. It was our business, as scouts, to becontinually on the warpath against them when they committeddepredations. But no scout ever hated the Indians in general. 

There have been times when the Government policy toward the Indians hasbeen unwise and unjust. That time, I trust, has passed forever. Thereare still many thousand Indians in the country, most of them engaged inagricultural pursuits. Indian blood has added a certain rugged strengthto the characters of many of our Western citizens. At least two UnitedStates Senators are part Indian, and proud of it. 

The Indian makes a good citizen, a good farmer, a good soldier. He is areal American, and all those of us who have come to share with him thegreat land that was his heritage should do their share toward seeingthat he is dealt with justly and fairly, and that his rights andliberties are never infringed by the scheming politician or theshort-sighted administration of law. 

THE END