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LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 "BILLY" DIXON 
 
 OF 
 
 ADOBE WALLS, TEXAS PANHANDLE 
 
 Narrative in Which Is Described Many Things Relating 
 to the Early Southwest, with an Account of the 
 Fight Between Indians and Buffalo Hunters at 
 Adobe Walls, and the Desperate Engage- 
 ment at Buffalo Wallow, for which 
 Congress voted the Medal 
 of Honor to the 
 Survivors. 
 
 COMPILED BY 
 
 Frederick S. Barde 
 
 GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA 
 
Copyright, 1914 
 By MRS. OIvIVK DIXON 
 
 PRINTED BY THE 
 
 Co-Operative Publishing Co. 
 
 GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA 
 
 APR 20 1914 
 
 ©CI.A371473 
 
f^rek^^ce: 
 
 After many years, the solicitation of 
 friends and early associates moved the sub- 
 ject of this volume to consent to the pub- 
 lication of such of his experiences on the 
 frontier as he believed might be of interest 
 to those persons who find pleasure in read- 
 ing of the perils and hardships encountered 
 in those far-off days by men and women who 
 forsook the comforts of more civilized sur- 
 roundings to risk their lives in making hab- 
 itable the wilderness. 
 
 The pioneers themselves were not in- 
 clined to feel that their exploits were so ex- 
 traordinary as to be of use in the making of 
 books. Their long abode in silent places 
 made them taciturn; and their lack of liberal 
 knowledge of the rules of writing and their 
 unwillingness to risk the appearance of con- 
 ceit left them reluctant to relate their adven- 
 tures for the printed page. 
 
 Posterity, however, has a claim upon 
 these fore-runners that may not be lightly 
 thrust aside. The history of this struggle to 
 subdue the wild places should be preserved 
 and can be gathered only from the lips of the 
 
6 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 records of participants. In a few years the^ 
 latter will have all vanished, as the frontier 
 itself has faded into a memory. From camp 
 fire tales have grown the legends of heroes. 
 
 "I fear," said "Billy" Dixon, half humor- 
 ously, "that the conquest of savagery in the 
 Southwest was due more often to love of 
 adventure than to any wish that cities should 
 arise in the desert, or that the highways of 
 civilization should take the place of the trails 
 of the Indian and the buffalo. In fact, many of 
 us believed and hoped that the wilderness 
 would remain forever. Life there was to our 
 liking. Its freedom, its dangers, its tax upon 
 strength and courage, gave a zest to living 
 especially to young men, unapproached by 
 anything to be found in civilized communi- 
 ties. Therefore, let it be said that if there 
 was bravery and heroism, it came less by de- 
 sign than it did from the emergencies of ac- 
 cident and surroundings, and that usually it 
 was spontaneous." 
 
 Though a taciturn man, Mr. Dixon made 
 strong friendships and entertained the warm- 
 est affection for the men with whom he had 
 been associated in pioneer days. Mr. W. B 
 ("Bat") Masterson, writing lately from New 
 York City, said in an appreciative letter: 
 
 "I first became acquainted with Billy 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 7 
 
 Dixon on the buffalo range in the fall of 
 1872 and continued to know him well and 
 intimately for several years thereafter. The 
 last time I saw him was at Sweetwater, a 
 small hamlet just off the Military Reserva- 
 tion at Fort Elliott, Texas, then called Can- 
 tonment, in the spring of 1876. 
 
 "Billy Dixon was a typical frontiersman 
 of the highest order. The perils and hard- 
 ships of border life were exactly suited to his 
 stoical and imperturbable nature. This does 
 not mean that Billy was not a kind-hearted, 
 generous and hospitable man, for he pos- 
 sessed all these admirable qualities to a high 
 degree but he was cool, calculating and un- 
 communicative at all times. 
 
 "I was with Billy in the fight at Adobe 
 Walls in June, 1874, between the buffalo- 
 hunters and that fierce band of warriors com- 
 posed of the best fighting men of the Chey- 
 enne, Arapahoe, Comanche and Kiowa tribes, 
 numbering fully one thousand braves. Billy 
 and I occupied the same window the first 
 day of the battle and I hope we did our 
 share in the fight. Billy was an extraordi- 
 nary fine shot with a buffalo-gun and he never 
 overlooked an opportunity that first day to 
 demonstrate his unerring aim whenever and 
 wherever an Indian showed his head. We 
 
8 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 were scouts together afterwards in General 
 Miles' command which left Fort Dodge, Kan- 
 sas in the early part of August, the same year, 
 for the Panhandle country where the hostiles 
 were assembled in great numbers. While I 
 was not with him, I am quite familiar with 
 all the details of the fight in the buffalo wal- 
 low on the north bank of the Washita River 
 in which Billy and Amos Chapman and four 
 soldiers stood off a large band of hostiles for 
 an entire day. It was largely due to Billy's 
 heroism on that occasion that the party was 
 saved from complete annihilation." 
 
 The publication of this volume was de- 
 cided upon in the fall of 1912. Mr. Dixon was 
 in vigorous health, and became greatly inter- 
 ested in the undertaking. His memory was 
 remarkable for its tenacity, which enabled him 
 to recall the past with ease and accuracy. 
 
 At our home on our claim in Cimarron 
 County, I took down from his dictation the 
 greater and the essential part of the present 
 narrative. I kept note-books in every room, 
 and sometimes carried them to the corral, 
 that I might be in readiness to set down what 
 my husband might say as he was moved by 
 reflection or inquiry to talk of the past. Many 
 of his pioneer friends learned of his plans, 
 and encouraged him to persevere until the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 9 
 
 work should be accomplished. The material 
 grew until there was an armful of manuscript, 
 and the ground had been fairly covered. 
 
 Little did we suspect that Death — the 
 enemy from whom he had escaped so many 
 times in the old days — was at hand, and that 
 the arrow was set to the bow. During a 
 winter storm early in 1913 he was suddenly 
 stricken. He went unwillingly and complain- 
 ingly to his bed, regretting that what he be- 
 lieved was a trivial illness should pull down 
 a man who never before had known a day's 
 sickness. Pneumonia developed, and he ex- 
 pired March 9, 1913, insisting with his last 
 breath that he would recover. Interment 
 took place in the cemetery at Texline, Texas, 
 under the auspices of the local Masonic Lodge. 
 Mr. Dixon for many years had been a con- 
 sistent member of that order. 
 
 In the publication of this volume, I wish 
 to acknowledge my obligations to Mr. Freder- 
 ick S. Barde, of Guthrie, Oklahoma, who com- 
 piled the manuscript and carried the book 
 through the press, and also to those pioneers 
 of the Panhandle, Mr. Chas. Goodnight and 
 Mr. James H. Gator, friends of many years, 
 whose counsel and suggestions were helpful 
 in many ways. 
 
 Mrs. Olive Dixon. 
 
Life of ^'Billy" Dixon 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN no other country could there have been 
 found a region so inviting, so alluring, so 
 fascinating, to the spirit of adventure as the 
 Great Plains. How it gripped the imagina- 
 tion of young men, sons of pioneers, between 
 the Mississippi and the Alleghanies, in those 
 early days! How it called to them, and beck- 
 oned to them to forsake their homes and 
 journey westward into the unknown! 
 
 Vast and undisturbed, it stretched from 
 the British Possession to the Rio Grande. It 
 was a natural stage on which was enacted the 
 most picturesque and romantic drama of the 
 nineteenth century. Its background was the 
 Rocky Mountains, from whose towering ram- 
 parts the Plains swept down toward the east, 
 giving an unobstructed view of the stirring 
 panorama that for more than half a century 
 was unrivalled for its scenes of daring and 
 conquest. 
 
 The Plains were marvelously adapted to 
 the needs of uncivilized people, who derived 
 their sustenance from the bounty of the wild- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 11 
 
 erness and to the heavy increase and perpetu- 
 ation of the animal life upon which they sub- 
 sisted. Upon its level floors, enemies or game 
 could be seen from afar, an advantage in 
 both warfare and hunting. The natural 
 grasses were almost miraculously disposed to 
 the peculiarities of soil and climate, afford- 
 ing the richest pasturage in the green of sum- 
 mer and becoming even more nutritious as 
 the seasons advanced toward the snows of 
 winter. This insured the presence of enor- 
 mous numbers of herbivorous animals, such 
 as the buffalo, the antelope and the deer, from 
 which the Indian derived his principal food 
 and fashioned his garments and his shelter. 
 His only toil was the chase with its splendid 
 excitement, and his only danger the onslaught 
 of tribal enemies. The climate was health- 
 ful and invigorating. In all the world could 
 not have been found a more delightful home 
 for primitive men. 
 
 That the Indian should have resisted with 
 relentless and increasing ferocity every ef- 
 fort to drive him from this paradise was nat- 
 ural and justifiable from his point of view. 
 In those days, he felt that to go elsewhere 
 meant starvation and death for his family 
 and tribe. Above all, he firmly believed that 
 the country was his, as it had been from the 
 
12 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 beginning, and that the white man was cruel, 
 merciless and wrong in depriving him of his 
 old home — a home that the white man did 
 not need and would not use. 
 
 North and south across this gigantic stage 
 the teeming animal life of the Plains, especial- 
 ly the buffaloes moved regularly with the pro- 
 cession of the equinoxes. The first grass of 
 spring to which the Cheyennes gave the poetic 
 name, mah-nah-see-tah — had scarcely made 
 green the landscape before it was darkened 
 with moving herds northward bound, in obed- 
 ience to the primal instinct that pulses more 
 deeply with the coming of spring. The pas- 
 tures were endless, and the moist earth 
 vibrant with the sounds of the fresh season. 
 Exerywhere wild flowers were springing 
 from the sod. The water-holes were full, and 
 the sandy rivers flashing in the sunshine. 
 Clouds of water-fowl swirled and descended 
 upon the bars, to rest in their flight to their 
 nesting grounds. The eagle in the sky and 
 the lark in the grass were alike free to raise 
 their young, far from the intrusion of man. 
 The Indians, with their women, children, dogs 
 and ponies, moving dimly on the far-off 
 Plains, were native to the scene, and passed 
 unnoticed by the other denizens of the soli- 
 tude. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 13 
 
 Once more the pageant of the wilderness 
 moved on its mysterious way, this time from 
 north to south. The storms of spring and 
 summer had rolled their thunder through 
 the solitude and reddened the sky with their 
 lightning. The rains had spent themselves, 
 me season of creation and growth had 
 passed. The Plains were shaggy with brown 
 grass. Soon frost would sharpen the air, and 
 snow come on the cold winds and whiten the 
 the earth. The buffaloes, the deer and the 
 antelope had thicker and warmer coats; the 
 bear was growing drowsy, and hunting his 
 wmter cave; the wild turkey flashing a finer 
 bronze; the prairie chicken, the crane, the 
 mallard and the goose were fat and succulent 
 beyond other days. 
 
 Of all this domain the Indian was lord 
 and master. There was none to dispute his 
 sway. The stars in the sky were his night 
 companions, and the sun his supreme bene- 
 factor by day. All were his servants. His 
 race multiphed and was happy. Food and 
 shelter were to be found upon every hand. 
 The white man had not come, bringing dis- 
 ease and poverty. 
 
 In savagery, a more delightful existence 
 could not be found. What joy of physical 
 livmg, with strength, health and contentment 
 
14 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 in every village. There were wars, to be 
 sure, but feats of daring appealed to the 
 brave, and there was love of fame and honor, 
 just as there was inside the walled cities be- 
 yond the Atlantic, where, from a comparative 
 standpoint, men were less civilized than their 
 western brothers who fought with bow and 
 arrow, war club and tomahawk. 
 
 The fruitful summers were given over to 
 idling in pleasant places — in a village beside 
 a stream, or in the foothills of the mountains. 
 There was singing and dancing and the tell- 
 ing of old tales. The women looked after 
 the household, ever watchful of the little 
 girls and the young women of marriageable 
 age. The plaintive notes of the love-flute 
 could be heard in the dusk of twilight. The 
 warriors trained the boys and the young men 
 in horsemanship and the use of arms, sub- 
 jecting them to tests of physical endurance, 
 fiwen pain, that they might grow to be strong, 
 invincible men. 
 
 There is something beyond description 
 that clutches a man's heart and imagination 
 in the Plains country. Whether it is the long 
 sweep of the horizon, with its suggestion of 
 infinity, touching upon melancholy, or that 
 wide-arching expanse of sky, glittering by 
 night and glorious by day, may not be de- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 15 
 
 termined, yet no man is ever quite his former 
 self after he has felt deeply the bigness, the 
 silence and the mystery of that region. 
 
 Trackless and boundless, the Great Plains 
 at first offered to the adventurous traveler 
 the many dangers that come from losing 
 one's way in the wilderness. The sun and the 
 stars were guides for direction, but not for 
 water, wood and pasture. Travel was not 
 made certain and continuous until countless 
 feet and hoofs and wheels had worn trails. 
 The making of trails is one of the most prim- 
 itive acts of man, and it seems incredible that 
 this should have been done within such rec- 
 ent times in this country. The most noted of 
 all these trails was the Santa Fe Road or 
 Trail that led to Santa Fe, New Mexico, from 
 Westport, Mo., where it was joined by smaller 
 highways from points in the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 The heart swells with emotion at remem- 
 brance of the wild, free life along those old 
 trails, and knowledge that they have vanished 
 forever brings a feeling of deep regret. Rail- 
 roads, to be sure, meet modern needs, and 
 have changed the wilderness into gardens, but, 
 nevertheless, beyond and above all these de- 
 mands of a higher civilization, with its com- 
 merce and its feverish haste, remains the 
 
16 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 thought that something worth while has been 
 lost, at least to those who found joy in brav- 
 ing dangers and in overcoming the obstacles 
 of primitive conditions. What a living, mov- 
 ing, thrilling panorama stretched along the 
 old trails! How vast the wealth that rolled 
 past! 
 
 The end came when the Santa Fe rail- 
 road reached Raton in 1880. Thenceforward, 
 wind and rain and the encroaching grass be- 
 gan their work of obliteration. Only gashed 
 river banks and scarred hillsides guard from 
 the destroying years the last vestiges of what 
 once were a nation's highways. The snow- 
 swept summits of the Spanish Peaks look 
 down no more upon the crawling ox-trains, 
 nor does the swart Apache watch stealthily 
 on Rabbit Ear Mountain to see if a weakly 
 guardedt rain is coming down the Santa Fe 
 Road. There are two pretty Spanish names 
 for Spanish Peaks — "Las Cumbres Espanolas" 
 and "Las dos Hermanas," (The Two Sisters). 
 The Ute name is "Wahtoya" (The Twins). 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 T WAS born in Ohio County, West Virginia, 
 -■- September 25, 1850, the oldest of three 
 children. My mother died when her third 
 child was born. I was then ten years old. I 
 believe that the earliest remembrances of one's 
 mother make the deepest impression. In the 
 few years that I received my mother's care, 
 my character was given a certain trend that 
 it never lost. My mother told me that I 
 should always be kind to dumb animals, and 
 especially to birds. In all my after life I 
 never forgot her words. Often on the Plains 
 and in the wilderness did I turn my horse 
 or wagon aside rather than injure a road 
 lizard or a terrapin that was unable to get 
 out of the way. 
 
 When I was twelve years old my father 
 died, and with my sister I went to live with 
 my uncle, Thomas Dixon, who lived in Ray 
 County, Missouri. In those days travel was 
 difficult, and Missouri seemed a long way 
 from our home in W^est Virginia. We had 
 been with our uncle only a few months when 
 my sister was stricken with typhoid fever, 
 and died after an illness of about two weeks. 
 This left me alone in the world. My uncle 
 
 2D 
 
18 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 was kind and good to me, but I stayed with 
 him only a year. I was a strong, rugged 
 boy, unwilling to be dependent upon even a 
 kinsman for my living, and with much reso- 
 lution I decided to seek my own fortune. 
 
 While at my uncle's home I had often 
 met men who had been to the far west, and 
 their marvelous tales of adventure fired my 
 imagination, and filled me with eagerness to 
 do what they had done. My dreams were 
 filled with beautiful pictures of that dim reg- 
 ion that lay toward the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 In those days no traveler undertook this 
 westward journey without a horse and a gun. 
 I was penniless, and the purchase of these 
 necessities seemed utterly beyond my re- 
 sources. 
 
 I had formed the acquaintance of a boy 
 named Dan Keller, several years older than 
 myself, and also without father or motiier. 
 Many times had we talked of the wild coun- 
 try where game abounded and Indian war- 
 riors rode as free as the wind. That we 
 should go was as inevitable as the coming of 
 the grass in spring or the falling of leaves in 
 autumn. My uncle would have been greatly op- 
 posed to our enterprise had we told him of 
 it, so I went away without telling him good 
 bve. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 19 
 
 Having no horses, Dan and I started on 
 foot, and in place of guns we had only cour- 
 age and our chubby fists. In a sack on my 
 back I carried my one extra shirt and my 
 mother's photograph. The latter I treasured 
 beyond all my other possessions. Making our 
 way to the Missouri River we fell in with 
 some wood choppers who were supplying 
 with fuel the steamboats that in those days 
 plied that river. The camps of these wood 
 choppers were found at frequent intervals 
 along the shore. The men were rough but 
 generous and hospitable, and we were wel- 
 comed at their camps, many of which we 
 reached at night-fall. We hunted and trap- 
 ped up and down the river for several months, 
 often staying in one camp for a couple of 
 weeks. 
 
 We were beginning to see the world and 
 to find adventure. Around the campfires at 
 night the wood choppers told of their ex- 
 ploits in the west — of how they had hunted 
 the grizzly bear, the buffalo, the panther, 
 the deer and the antelope, of how they had 
 been caught in the howling blizzards, of their 
 narrow escapes from drowning in swollen 
 rivers, and of the battles they had fought with 
 hostile Indians. Many times we sat and list- 
 ened until midnight, the rush of the river 
 
20 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 sounding in our ears, and then after we had 
 gone to bed we lay looking at the stars and 
 wondering if it would ever be possible for 
 us to lead such a delightful life. 
 
 Following the wood cutters' camps up 
 the great river we finally reached Westport, 
 Missouri, near where Kansas City now stands. 
 We arrived there on Sunday, October 23, 1864, 
 just as a big battle was being fought between 
 the Union army under General Alfred S. 
 Pleasanton and the Confederate army under 
 General Stirling Price. We could hear the 
 roar and boom of the cannon and see the 
 clouds of smoke rising in the sky. Dan and 
 I would have enlisted on the spot had we 
 not been too young. But the smoke of bat- 
 tle got into our nostrils, and we were more 
 determined than ever to reach the far west 
 and fight Indians. 
 
 Proceeding northwest, we crossed the 
 Kaw Biver and found ourselves in Kansas. 
 At that time there were a few warehouses 
 along the banks of the Missouri Biver where 
 the Kansas City stock yards are now situated. 
 We halted a day or two at the little town of 
 Wyandotte. I remember how the surround- 
 ing country was filled with mink, raccoon, 
 rabbits, opossums, squirrels, quail and prairie 
 chickens. This was greatly to our liking, so 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 21 
 
 Dan and I hired to an old farmer near Wyan- 
 dotte, and remained with him a couple of 
 months. 
 
 The first signs of spring were now in the 
 air, and like the wild geese that were passing 
 northward, we resumed our migration. At 
 the end of many weary miles we reached 
 Leavenworth, Kansas, and after forming the 
 acquaintance of an old plainsman named Tom 
 Hare, fire and brimstone could not have 
 turned us back, so determined did we become 
 to plunge deep into the wild country that 
 lay beyond us. Hare was a driver in a Gov- 
 ernment bull train. 
 
 Drifting into town hungry and foot-sore, 
 I will never forget this old man's kindness. 
 He took us to a railroad mess house — the 
 Kansas Pacific grading camp was then at 
 Leavenworth — and gave us our breakfast. 
 While we were eating the old man watched 
 us attentively and seemed pleased with our 
 appearance. In a moment he was telling us 
 of some of his trips in the west, which was 
 like setting out fire in dry stubble. He said 
 that the outfit or bull train to which he be- 
 longed was in camp about four miles from 
 town. It was in need of hands, and if we 
 wanted to go on the next trip he would help 
 us get employment, advising us to remain 
 
'22 Liii: 01 "Billy" Dixon 
 
 with him until the bull train was ready to 
 start. The outtit was waiting for winter to 
 break up. 
 
 We immediately became the old man's 
 staunch triends and ardent admirers. We 
 went out to the camp and when we were 
 taken to the boss, he eyed us carefully and 
 said: "You boys are pretty young, and Hill 
 looks like he ought to be at home with his 
 mother, but I'll give you a chance." So he 
 hired us then and there at 'f5() a month, with 
 everything Furnished, including guns and am- 
 munition. Dan and 1 were innnensely proud 
 of ourselves, and looked forward to the 
 journey with eager expectancy. 1 was only 
 fourteen years old, but delighted with the 
 prospect that at last 1 should begin the jour- 
 ney across the Plains. 
 
 We got orders about April 15 to pull out 
 for Fort Scott, Kansas. We moved by easy 
 marches and reported to the quartermaster 
 when we reached Fort Scott. He ordered the 
 outtit to go into camp a few miles from 
 town on a small stream where there was 
 good grass and water for the stock. There 
 we were to await further orders. We were 
 in camp for two weeks, and all we had to do 
 was to look after the stock, which we did 
 in turns. The stream abounded in fish, and 
 
Adobe Walls, Tlxas Panhandle 23 
 
 everywhere there was lots of small game. 
 These were among the happiest days of my 
 life. Because of my youth, the men favored 
 me in many ways. I hunted and fished to 
 my heart's content. 
 
 I was disappointed that the bull train 
 had been sent south instead of west, but 
 still hoped the order would soon come for 
 us to move toward the Plains. This was in 
 April, 1864, and in southern Kansas the news 
 of President Lincoln's assassination had just 
 been received. I recall that on our way to 
 Fort Scott a black flag of mourning hung on 
 every settler's farmhouse. 
 
 One morning about the first of May there 
 was shouting among the men, the rattling of 
 chains, the creaking of heavy wagons, and 
 the lowing of oxen, as we assembled under 
 orders to proceed to Fort Leavenworth. We 
 moved away in high spirits across the beau- 
 tiful country, bright and fragrant with the 
 wild flowers of spring. Lawrence was the 
 first town of importance that we reached. 
 
 It was the custom of the bull-whackers 
 to make a lively demonstration whenever they 
 passed through a town. With their big six- 
 teen foot whips they could make a sound like 
 the crack of a rifle, and as rapidly as possi- 
 ble the whips were cracked, the drivers shout- 
 
24 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 ing to their oxen, while men, women and 
 children ran into the street to witness the 
 spectacle. It was a performance that every- 
 body thoroughly enjoyed, and which never 
 again will be seen in this western country. 
 
 In two days from Lawrence we came to 
 Leavenworth City, about three or four miles 
 south of Fort Leavenworth. Here we made 
 the same uproar. Liquor was more plentiful 
 than water at Leavenworth in those days, and 
 many of the bull-whackers "tanked up." There 
 was a big noise all the way to the fort. 
 
 Between Lawrence and Leavenworth the 
 country was well settled, and every farm- 
 yard was filled with chickens, turkeys, ducks 
 and geese, many of which disappeared about 
 the time we passed that way. Of course I 
 would not be willing to admit that I helped 
 steal any of them, but it would be useless for 
 me to say that I did not help eat from many 
 a well-filled pot. A fat pig that strayed near 
 our camp rarely ever got back home. It is 
 but just to say, however, that this taking of 
 private property was done largely in a spirit 
 of mischief, as these rough bull-whackers 
 could not have been induced to engage in 
 what would have been regarded as actual 
 stealing. 
 
 This outfit was made up of men of var- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 25 
 
 ious ages and occupations. Some had been 
 soldiers, and several had been sailors. I rev- 
 eled in the stories told by the old gray haired 
 men. I believe that I liked best of all their 
 stories about fighting Indians. 
 
 Like all frontier towns, Leavenworth City 
 was well supplied with saloons. It is not 
 surprising that in the West most men drank, 
 as the saloon was the main starting place 
 for an outfit like ours, and a man who did 
 not take at least one drink was considered 
 unfriendly. I wish to emphasize this last 
 word, for my statement is literally true. In- 
 viting a man to drink was about the only 
 way civility could be shown, and to refuse an 
 invitation bordered upon an insult. Again, 
 the saloon was the place where all trails 
 crossed, and there we might be sure of meet- 
 ing men from the north, from the west and 
 the south, and gaining information that was 
 so essential to those who were journeying in- 
 to far off places. 
 
 The outfit was ordered into camp near 
 the fort, with everybody planning for the 
 westward trip. Our chagrin and disappoint- 
 ment may be imagined when we learned that 
 the whole train was to be sold by the Gov- 
 ernment, to which it belonged. The country 
 was now green with growing grass, and the 
 
26 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 cattle were getting sleek and fat. The order- 
 ly came and told us to assemble the train in 
 front of the quartermaster's oflice. The wag- 
 ons were strung out one after the other until 
 they formed a line half a mile in length. An 
 auctioneer stood in front of the building and 
 cried the sale; as soon as one wagon and 
 team was sold another took its place. The 
 teams were bought in at from $1600 to $1800 
 each, wagons included, and the twenty-five 
 wagons and three hundred bulls were bought 
 by one man; his name was Kirkendall. He 
 had been master of transportation at Fort 
 Leavenworth. Kirkendall hired our train- 
 master, and he in turn hired all the men who 
 wanted to remain with the outfit. About half 
 the men quit, and their places were filled 
 fresh bull-whackers. Some of the latter had 
 never seen a bull train, and had lots to learn. 
 
 By this time I had begun feeling that I 
 was an old hand. When I was first employed 
 I found it difficult to yoke my oxen, but my 
 small size appealed to the men, and there 
 was always somebody willing to help me. I 
 was now able to yoke my own oxen. 
 
 We lay in camp wondering where Kirk- 
 endall would send us. In a few days orders 
 came for us to pull out for Fort Collins, Col- 
 orado, with government supplies. I bubbled 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 27 
 
 over with joy, for now I was headed for the 
 Plains. Kirkendall received twenty-five cents 
 a pound for the freight he took out. Each 
 wagon was loaded with about seven hun- 
 dred pounds of freight, consisting of flour, 
 bacon, sugar, coftee, ammunition, etc. This 
 outfit was made up of twenty-five teamsters, 
 one wagon master, one assistant wagon mas- 
 ter, one night herder, and one extra man to 
 take^ the place of any man that might fall 
 sick. Each man was provided with a gun and 
 ammunition. 
 
 Before hiring to Kirkendall, we had been 
 paid off, and I had more money than I had 
 ever dreamed I would possess at one time. 
 According to the custom of the country, and 
 not without some inclination and vanity of 
 my own, I began investing in good clothes, 
 notably a big sombrero, a Colt's revolver, a 
 butcher knife, a belt, and a bull whip. For 
 the latter I paid $7. His whip was the bull- 
 whacker's pride, and around it circles all 
 his ambition and prowess. Dan bought a 
 similar outfit. I doubt if two boys ever felt 
 more important. I am sure that the older 
 men must have smiled at the two youngsters, 
 each buried beneath his big hat and leaning 
 to one side under the weight of his "shooting 
 irons." How impatient we were for the start! 
 
1 — i 
 
 5 
 
 7 
 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 29 
 
 The days seemed to stretch into months. At 
 last, however, we were ready, and whooping 
 farewells, we pulled out. 
 
 Little did we dream of the hardships 
 ahead of us. In the comfort of our winter 
 camp we had seen ourselves traveling across 
 the Plains in the bright sunshine of spring, 
 the grass green, the birds singing, and the 
 streams flashing along the way. The winter 
 rains and frosts had made the roads miry 
 and seemingly without bottom. We had gone 
 along without serious trouble until we reached 
 Salt Creek valley. Here we had to pass 
 through a long lane where the mud was hub 
 deep. We did not realize how bad it was 
 until we were well into the lane. Often we 
 were compelled to put twenty-four oxen to 
 one wagon to pull through some of the bad 
 places. This valley was three or four miles 
 wide, and it took us all day to get across. A 
 man's patience was thoroughly tried, and that 
 day I heard more different kinds of swearing 
 than could be put into a dictionary. After 
 getting out we laid over all next day resting 
 and making repairs. One wagon was sent 
 back to Leavenworth City for material to re- 
 pair things that had been broken. In Salt 
 Creek valley was pointed out to me a small 
 
30 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 road in which was said to be Buffalo Bill's 
 old home. 
 
 The road grew better in the neighborhood 
 of Maysville, Kansas, on the Big Blue, where 
 there were a good many settlers. We were 
 making between eight and ten miles a day. 
 The Big Blue is a swift stream, and at the 
 time was in flood, which caused us much 
 trouble in crossing, as cattle do not take well 
 to water, especially when pulling loaded wag- 
 ons. We doubled our teams, cracked our 
 whips, and forced the reluctant oxen into the 
 torrent with a man on horseback swimming 
 on each side of them, and in this way they 
 swam and struggled to the further shore. 
 Often the oxen were in danger of drowning, 
 but the whole outfit was crossed without the 
 loss of a single animal. 
 
 At this crossing the river made a bend, 
 and the road took the direction of what was 
 called the "dry" route. So we filled our can- 
 teens with water and left the river about 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, driving until 
 late that night, and making a dry camp. Next 
 day brought us to the Little Blue, a tribu- 
 tary of the Big Blue. From there our route 
 bore more to the north, going upstream, and 
 in about three days we were in sight of Fort 
 Kearney, Nebraska, and from there by mak- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 31 
 
 ing a long drive, we got to the Platte River in 
 one day. 
 
 All the while since leaving Fort Leaven- 
 worth I had been tense with the expectation 
 of seeing a war party of painted Indians, or 
 a herd of buffaloes sweeping over the Plains. 
 Neither had come to pass, and I was keenly 
 disappointed. 
 
 When we got to the Platte, we struck a 
 main traveled road leading out from Omaha, 
 Nebraska, St. Joseph, Missouri, and Atchison, 
 Kansas. These three towns were the main 
 shipping points on the Missouri River at that 
 time. Here we could see trains moving along 
 or in camp on the road. Our route led straight 
 up the valley, and in two days we reached a 
 stage station called Plum Creek, where in 
 later years hostile Indians committed many 
 depredations. There seemed to be something 
 in the very air at Plum Greek that was dif- 
 ferent from what we had left behind. A feel- 
 ing of danger, invisible but present, all of 
 which was manifested when an escort of 
 United States soldiers moved out ahead of us 
 when the bull train started. 
 
 This meant that we were in a dangerous 
 locality. In my boyish enthusiasm I was de- 
 lighted instead of being fearful, for it looked 
 as if we were going into the enemies' coun- 
 
32 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 try, and from all indications we were, for 
 we could see where the Indians had raided 
 the settlements the previous year. At dif- 
 ferent places where there had been a road 
 ranch or a small store, their ruins told the 
 tale of fire and rapine by savage Indians. 
 These buildings were built mostly of sod, as 
 there was no timber in the country. Here 
 and there we passed a grave at the side of 
 the road. The raiding had been done by the 
 Sioux. Practically the only buildings in this 
 part of the country were the way stations and 
 home stations of the overland stage company 
 which ran from the Missouri River to Cali- 
 fornia. 
 
 After leaving Julesburg, Nebraska, the 
 country became much wilder. We saw great 
 herds of antelope and many deer. I was im- 
 patient for the sight of buffaloes, and it 
 seemed strange to me that none had appeared. 
 As a matter of fact they had not worked that 
 far north, but were coming later. All along 
 the road after we got on the overland stage 
 route, the stage drivers, who always drove in 
 a gallop as they passed us, would cry out 
 "Indians on ahead! Better look out!" This 
 we found was done jokingly, to alarm such 
 tenderfeet as might be among us, and we soon 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 33 
 
 paid no attention to it, when we encountered 
 no Indians. 
 
 Julesburg consisted of a couple of stores 
 and two or three saloons. Here we got a 
 fresh escort of soldiers. Between Plum Creek 
 and Julesburg we passed a big square stone 
 on which was inscribed "Daniel Boone" and 
 other inscriptions, one saying that further in- 
 formation could be found on the other side, 
 meaning the bottom. This stone was so big 
 that twelve men could not move it. We saw 
 where teams had been hitched to it and the 
 stone overturned. We did the same thing, 
 and found the same inscription on the bot- 
 tom. I doubt if ever a bull train passed that 
 way without turning that big boulder to sat- 
 isfy its curiosity. 
 
 Three days out from Julesburg we left 
 the Platte, and struck a trail called the dry 
 route, at what was known as Freeman's Or- 
 chard. There was no sign of an orchard, 
 however. The South Platte had to be forded, 
 and it was a different stream from any we 
 had crossed. We stood in dread of it, as 
 the current was swift and its shores rocky. 
 It took us a whole day to get over, and some 
 wagons had to be partly unloaded. 
 
 There were only three horses in the out- 
 fit, used by the wagon master, his assistant, 
 
 3D 
 
34 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 and the night herder. They were a great 
 help to us in crossing these streams, as the 
 cattle would follow the horses when no 
 amount of whipping could make them take 
 the bad place. Traveling north, we came to 
 the "Gash la Poole," a beautiful mountain 
 stream in Colorado, beyond which was Fort 
 Collins, which we reached in August, being 
 on the road two and one-half months. 
 
 I now saw mountains for the first time. 
 Fort Collins was situated on the "Cash la 
 Poole" in the foothills. Long before we got 
 there they seemed to hang in the sky like 
 clouds. The population of Fort Collins was 
 mostly post traders and soldiers. We remain- 
 ed there about a week, unloading supplies 
 and resting the stock. While there I visited 
 an Indian camp and saw my first Indians. 
 They were Utes, and greatly interested me. 
 The squaws were drying wild cherries for 
 winter, pounding them in a stone mortar. The 
 day before we left Fort Collins a fight took 
 place in our camp between two bull-whackers, 
 Edward Ray and Jim Lynch, over a game of 
 cards. Ray shot Lynch, and the latter was 
 left in the hospital at Fort Collins. 
 
 Our trip back to Fort Leavenworth was 
 over the same route. My journey had fasci- 
 nated me, but I was disappointed in not hav- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 35 
 
 ing engaged in a fight with Indians, and in 
 not having seen a single buffalo. Going back 
 we were trailing three or four wagons to- 
 gether, and drove the rest of the oxen, taking 
 turns with the teams. 
 
 Between Julesburg and Plum Creek we 
 met a party of women on their way to Salt 
 Lake City, Utah, to join the Mormons. There 
 was not a man among them, and they could 
 not speak a word of English. I was told 
 that they were Danes. All the women wore 
 wooden shoes. They drove ox-wagons and 
 had the appearance of being very poor. The 
 sight of these women so excited our curiosity 
 that the trainmaster called a halt until they 
 passed us. Their camp was not a great distance 
 from ours, and that night some of the boys 
 wanted to go and pay them a visit, but the 
 trainmaster told them that if they did not 
 want to get left they had better not go. 
 
 There were small stores or road ranches, 
 as they were called, all along the route, gen- 
 erally every ten miles, and often we bought 
 at our own expense such luxuries as sweet- 
 meats and canned goods which were not to 
 be found in our commissary. Tomatoes sold 
 at fifty cents a can, and everything else was 
 in proportion. When we got back as far as 
 Maysville we could buy fresh vegetables and 
 
36 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 geese and chickens by paying a big price for 
 them; but in those days no price was too 
 great to be paid by hungry men. Money was 
 plentiful and if we could get what we wanted, 
 we bought it, regardless of what it cost. 
 
 As we approached Leavenworth City, we 
 were met by men soliciting trade for the ho- 
 tels, stores and saloons, who came out eight 
 or ten miles to meet us. At the fort our 
 wagons were parked, or formed in a square, 
 to be left there for the winter, and the oxen 
 were taken to the country to be fed. By the 
 time we were ready to break camp, hacks and 
 wagons were coming out to take us down 
 town, each business house being represented. 
 We had drawn practically none of our wages 
 during the trip, and when we were paid, many 
 of us felt rich, and had enough to carry us 
 through the winter if we were not extrava- 
 gant. 
 
 November had arrived and the weather 
 was getting cold. There are few sights more 
 chilling and somber than the Plains in winter, 
 stretching brown and dead under a leaden sky, 
 with the wind moaning and roaring from 
 the north. We could have found jobs with 
 other outfits, as trains were being fitted out 
 for western forts, to both Fort Lyon and Fort 
 Riley. Dan and I would have gone as bull- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 37 
 
 whackers with these, but were advised by old- 
 er men not to go, as it would be a hard 
 trip in winter storms and blizzards. Dan and 
 I remained together for a week, enjoying the 
 sights. He decided to go back to his old home 
 in Indiana, where he could be with his par- 
 ents during the winter. Strangely, I never 
 afterwards heard of or saw him. 
 
 In returning from Fort Collins, I had 
 become strongly attached to another young 
 fellow named Johnny Baldwin. We were to- 
 gether in the street one day when we met 
 up with the master of a bull-train that was 
 getting ready to start to Fort Larned. He was 
 a gruff old codger, and looked as rusty as 
 a six-shooter that had lain all winter in the 
 snow. He asked us to go with him, and we 
 would have gone if we had not struck a bet- 
 ter job that very day. After we had told him 
 that we would decide by next day, we wan- 
 dered into the street. There we met a man 
 who caught our fancy beyond all others we 
 had seen. He was a jolly, good natured fel- 
 low, who joked with us, and said that he 
 would like to hire us to go with a govern- 
 ment mule train that was outfitting. He said 
 that we would get to see "lots of corn-fed 
 country girls" out in the country where the 
 mules were being fed for the winter. He of- 
 
38 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 fered us each $45 a month, and we hired to 
 him on the spot. 
 
 This proved to be a much easier job 
 than the one we had just left. The outfit con- 
 sisted of about 150 head of mules that had 
 been driven to a farm on Soldiers' Creek, 
 about 60 miles from Leavenworth, near 
 where Holden, Kas., now stands. Here we re- 
 mained all winter. About all I had to do 
 was to help the cook and round in 
 the mules at night. We had an abundance of 
 good things to eat, and grew fat and "sassy." 
 
 When the men discovered that I was a 
 good shot, I was given a job that was whol- 
 ly to my liking — hunting game for the mess. 
 There were plenty of quails, rabbits, squirrels 
 and prairie chickens, and I was in my glory. 
 I ranged the country, a youthful Daniel 
 Boone, enjoying every moment of the time. 
 I seemed to have a natural aptitude in the 
 handling of fire-arms. It was my greatest 
 ambition to become a good shot. In later 
 years I was counted an expert marksman in 
 any company, regardless of how proficient my 
 rivals might be. I always attributed my skill 
 with the rifle to my natural love for the sport, 
 to steady nerves, and to constant, unremitting 
 practice. Where other men found pleasure in 
 cards, horse-racing and other similar amuse- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 39 
 
 ments, I was happiest when ranging the open 
 country with my gun on my shoulder and a 
 dog at my heels, far out among the wild birds 
 and the wild animals. 
 
 In the neighborhood of our camp were 
 a good many settlers, sturdy, strong people, 
 who lived in the style of the frontier, and, 
 I dare say, got much more contentment out 
 of life than many who came after them and 
 lived under more civilized conditions. Dur- 
 ing the winter, dances and parties were fre- 
 quent, and we were hospitably invited to at- 
 tend them. I went with the men, but was 
 entirely too bashful to take part. I sat be- 
 side the fiddlers and looked at the pretty girls, 
 rosy and blushing, and would have given a 
 fortune — had I possessed one — for courage 
 enough to walk boldly up to the handsomest, 
 ask her to dance with me, and be able to 
 dance without making blunders as the figures 
 were called. Alas, such courage and assur- 
 ance was quite beyond my strongest resolves. 
 I remember, particularly, one black-eyed girl 
 who observed my embarrassment, and would 
 always speak to me and invite me to take 
 part. I adored her for this, but would have 
 fled like an antelope had she approached me. 
 
 Along about the first of March we got 
 orders to take the mules to Leavenworth. We 
 
40 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 were elated at the prospect of change. Where 
 were we going? How long would we be 
 gone? What would be our adventures? 
 These were questions that came to us thick 
 and fast. This was one of the splendid 
 things of life in frontier days — this eagerness 
 to be off and away after a season of hiber- 
 nation. Many a hunter, many a scout, many 
 a cowboy, returning from a long and arduous 
 expedition, would swear that never again 
 would he endure misery and hardships such 
 as he had encountered. All winter he would 
 stay close to the cook and roast his shins 
 beside the fire, dead sure that he was forever 
 done with the roving life. Then, one day, 
 came the honking of wild geese flying north- 
 ward; the sun grew warmer; the grass was 
 springing green around the buffalo chips in 
 the prairie, and in the draws the redbud was 
 lifting itself in little pink clouds. Farewell to 
 all firm resolves! A span of oxen could not 
 have held the plainsman in the quarters 
 which he had believed to be the most de- 
 lightful place in the world, when he arrived 
 there in the fall. Something was calling him 
 — something in the wind, the sky and the 
 dashing rain — and he went, went like a bird 
 from its cage. 
 
 The day we broke camp a "norther" be- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 41 
 
 gan blowing, and 1 froze two of my fingers 
 rather badly. We traveled 35 or 40 miles 
 the first day, the mules going at a gallop 
 part of the time. We reached Fort Leaven- 
 worth next day, and delivered our mules to 
 the corral-master, after which we went to 
 the Government mess house, where our ap- 
 petites attracted considerable attention and 
 caused no less comment. 
 
 The quartermaster paid us our accumu- 
 lated wages. We were now without a job. 
 A friendship had grown up between myself 
 and a man named Bill Gladden. The two of 
 us went from the Fort to the city, and re- 
 mained there about three weeks, attracted 
 by the curious sights to be seen daily in the 
 coming and going of the brawny multitudes 
 of men who gave to that town a historic in- 
 terest. 
 
 The manager of the farm where 1 had 
 spent the winter was named McGall. His 
 family seemed to feel much affection for me. 
 His son, Charley, and 1 became fast friends. 
 McCall offered me a job, which Gladden ad- 
 vised me to accept, as he felt that 1 was 
 rather young to be fighting my way against 
 the odds that often overthrew strong men in 
 the Plains Country. This, however, was not 
 what 1 wanted to do. 1 had made up my 
 
42 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 mind to go west — and to keep on going west 
 until I could say that I had seen it all, and 
 had hunted buii'aloes and fought Indians to 
 my complete satisfaction. Little did I dream 
 of how much of this sort of thing was in 
 store for me in later years. The McCalls 
 were so persuasive however, that I could not 
 resist their kind offers, and I remained on 
 the farm about a year. During all this time 
 Mrs. McGall was a mother to me, and the 
 family treated me as if I were a son and a 
 brother. I am sure that the good influences 
 of this home were helpful to me in after 
 life. 
 
 I worked for the McCalls until the fall of 
 1866. In July a number of horses were stolen 
 from the barn, and my employer gave me the 
 place of night watchman, a responsible po- 
 sition for a boy of my age. I had the great- 
 est confidence, however, in my ability to use 
 my rifle in a way that would be disastrous to 
 thieves. I did not lose a single horse. 
 
 The McCalls had two girls and one boy, 
 Charley. The latter was wild and reckless, 
 but good-hearted and eager for any kind of 
 adventure. Once he had run away from home 
 and gone west with a Government mule train. 
 Old man McCall was a great hand to hunt, 
 and often took me wdth him on his hunting 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 43 
 
 trips. I always thought that he felt a bit 
 provoked at me when his folks teased him 
 about my killing the most game, but he 
 laughed it off, and would brag on me him- 
 self. 
 
 That fall the McGalls told me that if I 
 wished to remain and go to school during 
 the winter, my board would not cost me a 
 cent. I was glad to take advantage of this 
 offer, so Charley and I walked to town every 
 day to school — the two girls attended a Cath- 
 olic boarding school. Prior to this, I had at- 
 tended school only two terms. Plainly, my 
 school days were limited. 
 
 I did my best to keep Charley out of 
 trouble, and am sure that I exerted a good 
 influence over him, as he would nearly al- 
 ways listen to me. Despite my utmost en- 
 deavors, he engaged in a number of fights at 
 school, which caused his parents more or 
 less trouble. During all our acquaintance 
 Charley and I never spoke a harsh word to 
 each other. 
 
 While I was living with the McCalls a 
 shocking tragedy took place at their home. 
 — the suicide of United States Senator James 
 Lane of Kansas. He was visiting there at the 
 time he killed himself. Mrs. Lane and Mrs. 
 McCall were sisters. The Senator was in poor 
 
44 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 health. While riding with his wife and child- 
 ren, he thrust the muzzle of a six-shooter into 
 his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The bul- 
 let came out at the top of his head. Strange 
 to say, he lived three days. I was with the 
 ambulance that was sent out to convey him 
 to Leavenworth, where he could receive med- 
 ical aid. Senator Lane was a Kansas pioneer, 
 and took an active and leading part in the 
 conduct of its early affairs. 
 
 Leavenworth City was a tough place in 
 those days, filled with all kinds of rough 
 characters. I saw three men lying dead in 
 the street one day, as the result of an ex- 
 traordinary occurrence. Four men were sit- 
 ting under a tree playing cards, as a severe 
 electric storm formed and swept over the city. 
 One man suggested that the game should be 
 postponed until after the storm had passed, 
 to which another replied, "D n the light- 
 ning." At that moment a bolt struck the tree 
 with a blinding flash, killing all of the men 
 save the one that had asked that there be 
 no card-playing while the storm was raging. 
 The bodies of the dead men were laid on the 
 floor of the fire station. Their deaths caused 
 much comment, as many persons felt that 
 they had provoked the wrath that fell upon 
 them. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 45 
 
 Shootings were as common as the arrival 
 of a bull-train, and excited little comment. 
 The man who was quickest on trigger usually 
 came out ahead— the other fellow was buried, 
 and no questions asked. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHEN the spring of 1867 came around, I 
 was offered my old job on the farm, and 
 Mrs. McCall, a kind, good woman, used all her 
 influence to get me to accept it. But my 
 head was filled with dreams of adventure 
 in the Far West. Always, I could see the 
 West holding its hands toward me, and beck- 
 oning and smiling. 
 
 Meeting a Government train-master named 
 Simpson, who was hiring men to go out with 
 a train that was to be shipped by railroad as 
 far as Fort Harker, I forgot all that Mrs. Mc- 
 Call had said to me about staying on the 
 farm, and hired to Simpson. Returning to 
 the farm, I told my good friends good-bye. 
 
 The Kansas Pacific railroad had now been 
 built as far west as Fort Harker. All our 
 wagons and harness were new and these, to- 
 gether with the mules, were loaded into cars 
 and shipped to Fort Harker. We went into 
 camp close to the Fort. 
 
 In this outfit were a good many raw men, 
 while the mules were known as "shave-tails," 
 which meant wild, unbroken mules; only a 
 few had been harnessed and driven. By this 
 time I could handle a team with as much 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 47 
 
 ease as a man could. In my lot were two 
 or three gentle mules — I have cause to re- 
 member one old fellow in particular, upon 
 whose back I afterwards had one of the most 
 exciting rides of my life. 
 
 We put in ten days breaking the "shave- 
 tails." It was a scene of hilarious excitement, 
 and not without danger, as often mules would 
 be kicking and bucking in harness with might 
 and main, while others would be running 
 away. At such times the drivers had no time 
 to pay attention to other things. 
 
 While in this camp, cholera began raging 
 at Fort Marker, which struck terror to many 
 who stood in no fear of other dangers to 
 life. Many of our men deserted, and two 
 died of the dread disease. I witnessed the 
 death of one of our men, Frinkum, and shall 
 never forget his agony. Men who were ap- 
 parently in the full vigor of health at sun- 
 rise lay dead by night. The authorities kept 
 the number of dead secret as much as pos- 
 sible. The burials were usually at night. 
 
 This epidemic of death extended from 
 Fort Marker, Kansas, to Fort Union, New Mex- 
 ico. Its origin was said to have been in the 
 Tenth Cavalry, a negro command, which had 
 shipped from the East to the western frontier. 
 Now, all this excitement did not bother me 
 
48 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 a bit — I did not think much about it. The 
 doctors made regular calls at our camp every 
 day, and we were placed on a strict diet. We 
 were forbidden to eat any kind of vegetable 
 or fresh meat. The disease ran its course in 
 about three weeks. 
 
 Alas, and again alas, up to this time I 
 had never seen a buffalo! I could almost 
 taste buffalo, so keen was I to behold one of 
 these shaggy monsters, pawing the sandy 
 plain, throwing dust high in air, and shaking 
 his ponderous head at his enemies, defying 
 them to battle. 
 
 The Government here issued a new lot 
 of arms and ammunition to us. This looked 
 warlike, and was greatly to my liking. The 
 guns were the Sharpe's carbine, carrying a 
 linen cartridge, with which was used the 
 "army hat" cap. In addition, we were given 
 a six-shooter Remington, cap and ball pistol. 
 These were the very latest arms. 
 
 Now^ came an eventful, a momentous 
 morning, 1 had just crawled from under my 
 blankets and was feeding my mules. Glanc- 
 ing to the northwest, I saw a lone object on 
 the plains. At the moment the object ap- 
 parently failed to make an impression upon 
 my mind, and 1 turned toward my mules. 
 Then I jumped as if I had been stung by a 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 49 
 
 hornet. With eyes distended, I whirled and 
 looked again at the lone object on the Plains. 
 My body was vibrating as if touched by a 
 dynamo. 
 
 A buffalo!' No mistake about it. There 
 he stood, rather far off and dim. Maybe 
 he had been waiting for me all these years, 
 waiting for me to see him. That was my 
 buffalo. I determined that I should get him, 
 even if I had to twist my fingers in his shaggy 
 mane and drag him alive into camp. 
 
 Seizing a blind-bridle, I slipped it onto 
 the gentle old mule to which I referred in 
 an earlier page, made a dash for my rifle 
 and rode away bareback and at top speed 
 after the buffalo. 
 
 The buffalo had turned and was moving 
 away from camp when he caught sight of 
 the boy on the mule riding wildly toward him. 
 With a flip of his tail, the buffalo struck his 
 rocking-chair gait and went lumbering away. 
 Up and down hills and across gullies he gal- 
 loped. I was hat behind him, and at times 
 was just at the point of getting range, only 
 to see the buffalo increase his speed and spoil 
 my shot. 
 
 We had consumed about eight miles in 
 this sort of thing, when we came to a smooth 
 flat. My old mule was panting and pretty 
 
 4D 
 
50 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 well winded by this time, but I was able to 
 make him take another spurt in speed. This 
 brought me within range. The buffalo fell 
 dead at the first shot. The explosion scared 
 the mule into hysteria, but his was no worse 
 than mine. I had not only killed a buffalo, 
 but had killed, unaided, the first buffalo I 
 ever saw. 
 
 By this time three or four men from the 
 outfit had arrived. They were jubilant over 
 my success, and were kind enough to exag- 
 gerate the distance of the shot. The buffalo 
 was a hard animal to kill instantly, as a vital 
 spot had to be struck. We skinned the car- 
 cass, and each man cut off a chunk of meat 
 and took it back to camp. Greatly to our 
 disgust, not a mouthful were we allowed to 
 cook or eat, because of the cholera quaran- 
 tine. 
 
 A few days later orders were given to 
 load the wagons with Government supplies 
 for Fort Hayes, Kansas, 90 odd miles west 
 of Fort Marker. By this time our "shave- 
 tail" mules were under fairly good control, 
 and we got under headway without much 
 trouble. 
 
 On this trip, at a distance, we saw a 
 bunch of Indian warriors, but did not come 
 in contact with them. In my lack of ex- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 51 
 
 perience I was eager for the fray, and was 
 disappointed when I saw the war party dis- 
 appear over a long ridge, without my having 
 been able to test my marksmanship and my 
 new Sharpe's rifle. Buffaloes were seen in 
 numbers, and I was lucky enough to kill 
 several "on my own hook." We reached Fort 
 Hayes in about four days, and returned to 
 Fort Marker in about the same time. 
 
 Fort Hayes was garrisoned mostly with 
 negro soldiers. No buildings had been erected 
 at that time, and we unloaded our supplies 
 in the open prairie, where guards had been 
 stationed to protect them. The timber for 
 the buildings was being hauled from Fort 
 Harker. 
 
 Our next trip was to Fort Wallace, with 
 Government supplies, the distance being con- 
 siderably greater than from Fort Harker to 
 Fort Hayes. We always had an escort of 
 soldiers, as there was constant danger of 
 meeting an Indian war party. 
 
 In August, 1867, we were sent to Fort 
 Lyon, and on this trip we saw thousands of 
 buffaloes. The breeding season was now ap- 
 proaching its close, and at night and early 
 morning could be heard the constant, low 
 thunder of the bulls, their grunting rising into 
 a roar that was one of the most striking of 
 
52 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 the natural phenomena of the Plains country. 
 The calves, by this time, were alert, active 
 little fellows, closely guarded by their moth- 
 ers. Later in the season, all the bulls would 
 segregate themselves from the cows, to range 
 apart until the next breeding season. West 
 of Fort Dodge we saw Indians in war paint, 
 and expected to be attacked, but the rescals 
 veered round us and went on their way. 
 
 Fort Hayes was on a tributary of the 
 Smoky Hill River; old Fort Zarah, on Wal- 
 nut Creek; Fort Larned on Pawnee Fork, 
 and Fort Harker on Big Creek. All these 
 forts w^ere being remo^deled and improved. In 
 this w^ay we put in all that summer, hauling 
 supplies to one fort or the other, and when 
 not engaged in this, we hauled rock for the 
 foundations of the buildings. 
 
 Along in October, 1867, while several Gov- 
 ernment trains were at Fort Harker, waiting 
 for orders, we were notified to make ready 
 to accompany a party of peace commissioners 
 that had been authorized to treat with sev- 
 eral of the main plains tribes of Indians in 
 the Southw^est, at Medicine Lodge, Kas. These 
 negotiations were afterwards known as the 
 Medicine Lodge Treaty. Like most other 
 treaties with these tribes, it was soon broken. 
 
 Several trains, with a part of ours, were 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 53 
 
 to accompany this expedition. I was eager 
 to go, but as no orders had been given to my 
 outfit, I was fearful that I might be left be- 
 hind. Here was the opportunity I had long 
 looked for — to see a big gathering of Indians 
 close at hand, without danger of getting 
 scalped. I had almost given up in despair, 
 when an orderly galloped up from head- 
 quarters, saying that two more wagons must 
 be sent forward at once. It was now 6 o'clock 
 in the evening. Simpson, our wagon-master, 
 approached me and said: 
 
 "Billy, you and Frickie (Frickie drove the 
 wagon next to mine) get ready at once and 
 go into Fort Marker." 
 
 As a rule, nothing ever greatly excited me 
 in my frontier days, but I am bound to ad- 
 init that I was now going round and round, 
 so overjoyed was I at my good luck. My agi- 
 tation came near causing me to be left behind. 
 
 I ran as quickly as possible to where my 
 mules were eating their grain, and without 
 halting jerked the harness from the rack 
 to throw it onto the lead mule. With both 
 feet this mule kicked me squarely in the 
 small of the back. I dropped as if I had 
 been struck with an axe, and found myself 
 partly paralyzed, and scarcely able to move. 
 Recovering slightly, I regained my feet, but 
 
54 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 found that I could not straighten my body. 
 I was game, however. Calling Frickie, I told 
 him what had happened, and asked him to 
 help me harness my mules, and not to say a 
 word to anybody about my being hurt. Were 
 it known that I had been kicked, I might be 
 sent to the hospital. Frickie was a good fel- 
 low, and I was soon on my way to the Fort. 
 By next morning I was in fairly good shape. 
 
 Night had come by the time we reached 
 Fort Marker. We had to load and then drive 
 about three miles to camp, on the Smoky Hill. 
 The last two wagons were loaded with am- 
 munition for a small Galling gun, not an 
 undesirable equipment on Indian peace ex- 
 peditions in those days. 
 
 We pulled out bright and early next 
 morning for Plum Creek, where there was a 
 small road-ranch. Next day we reached Fort 
 Zarah on Walnut Creek and on the third day 
 we went on up the Arkansas and crossed it 
 about seven miles below Fort Larned. We 
 reached Medicine Lodge on the fourth day, 
 where the treaty was to be held. 
 
 All along the way on this trip we were 
 traveling through countless numbers of buf- 
 faloes. I remember seeing a wounded buffalo 
 cow followed by six big lobo wolves. No 
 hoofed animal could withstand these savage 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 55 
 
 beasts — they were a terror to other wild life 
 on the Plains. Wantonly, several buffaloes 
 had been shot, and left lying to rot on the 
 ground. An orderly came riding down the 
 line with strict orders, that if another man 
 in the outfit fired another shot at a buffalo 
 he would be placed in irons. 
 
 Between the Arkansas River and Medi- 
 cine Lodge we were met by a number of 
 noted Indian chiefs, mounted upon their fin- 
 est horses and arrayed in their most splendid 
 costumes. They carried themselves with dig- 
 nity and in every feature was revealed their 
 racial pride and their haughty contempt of 
 the white man. Among them I recall Satanta, 
 Kicking Bird, and Black Kettle.. 
 
 Satanta, chief of the Kiowas, rode a big 
 black horse, and presented a magnificent ap- 
 pearance. It was because of his complaint 
 that the order had been issued against the 
 killing of buffaloes — a complaint that lay at 
 the very heart of the grievances of the Indian 
 against the white man in frontier days. He 
 declared that the buffaloes were the property 
 of himself and his people, and to destroy the 
 buffalo meant the destruction of the Indian. 
 Leading a nomadic life, which prevented his 
 tilling the soil, even if he had wished to 
 engage in agriculture, which he did not, the 
 
56 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Indian saw that he would be deprived of his 
 principal and most necessary food — buffalo 
 meat — if the buffaloes were killed. 
 
 At a later day General Phil. Sheridan, to 
 subdue and conquer the Plains tribes for all 
 time, urged and practiced the very thing that 
 Satanta was fearful might happen. In the 
 early 70's, the state legislatures of Kansas and 
 Colorado, listening to the appeal of the Indians, 
 through sympathetic white persons, enacted 
 laws to stop the slaughtering of the buffaloes. 
 General Sheridan at that time was in com- 
 mand of the Military Department of the South- 
 west, with headquarters at San Antonio. 
 The Texas legislature, in session at Austin, 
 was at the point of declaring against the 
 merciless slaughter of buffales that was then 
 under way in the Staked Plains and Pan- 
 handle regions. General Sheridan is said to 
 have told the legislators that the state should 
 give to every buffalo-hunter a bronze medal, 
 on one side of which should be a dead buf- 
 falo, and on the other, a discouraged Indian, 
 adding: 
 
 "These men have done more in the last 
 year to settle the vexed Indian question than 
 the entire regular army has done in the last 
 thirty years. They are destroying the In- 
 dians' commissary; and it is a well-known 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 57 
 
 fact that an army losing its base of supplies 
 is placed at a great disadvantage. Send them 
 powder and lead, if you will; but, for the 
 sake of a lasting peace, let them kill, skin, 
 and sell until the buffaloes are exterminated. 
 Then you;r prairies can be covered with 
 speckled cattle, and the festive cowboy, who 
 follows the hunter as a second fore-runner of 
 an advanced civilization." 
 
 The Texas legislature accepted General 
 Sheridan's advice. The Texans as a people 
 were readily disposed to agree with that point 
 of view, for in no State did the Plains Indians 
 commit crimes more cruel and horrible than 
 in Texas. 
 
 On our way to Medicine Lodge our train 
 of sixty wagons was strung out for a distance 
 of about two miles, accompanied by a strong 
 escort of soldiers. 
 
 The members of this Indian Peace Com- 
 mission were: N. G. Taylor, Commissioner 
 of Indian Affairs; John B. Henderson, United 
 States Senator; General William Tecumseh 
 Sherman; General W. L. Harney; John B. 
 Sanborn; General A. H. Terry; S. F. Tappan, 
 and General C. C. Augur. 
 
 Among the notable chiefs were: Satanta, 
 Kicking Bird, Black Kettle, Medicine Arrow, 
 and Lone Wolf. Black Kettle was then at 
 
Satanic, The Old Tiger of the Kiowas. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 59 
 
 the height of his power, but soon to meet the 
 death he had so often inflicted. He led the 
 Cheyenne raid in the valley of the Solomon 
 River in August, 1868, and had been in the 
 Sand Creek fight in Colorado, November, 1864, 
 where Colonel Chivington, commanding a reg- 
 iment of Colorado troops massacred a lot of 
 Cheyennes. I camped on that battleground 
 in 1870 while hunting buffaloes. The spot 
 was still strewn with bones of the dead, and 
 the trees were yet scarred by the hail of bul- 
 lets that had come from the guns of the sol- 
 diers, who killed old and young, women and 
 children, without mercy, and atrociously mut- 
 ilated the bodies of the dead. In 1866, at Fort 
 Marker, Black Kettle had made a speech of 
 great eloquence, asking the Government not 
 to permit the building of railroads through 
 the Indian country, as it would drive away 
 the buffaloes and leave the Indians to starve. 
 This fear of the change that would follow 
 the building of railroads across the Plains 
 was night and day in the heart of the Indian. 
 No chief made a speech in which he did not 
 refer to it. In June, 1871, Little Raven, Pow- 
 der face, and Bird Chief, Arapahoes; Little 
 Robe and Stone Calf, Cheyennes, and Buffalo 
 Good, Wichita, were taken to Washington 
 and Boston, that they might be impressed with 
 
60 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 the white man's strength, and futility of the 
 Indians further resistence to the demands of 
 the Government. Stone Calf, in a speech at 
 Tremont Temple, Boston, handled the railroad 
 question in this manner. 
 
 "They (the Government) said they w^ould 
 teach our people to plant and raise corn, and 
 to build our habitations from trees. But be- 
 fore they ever ploughed or planted an acre 
 of corn for us they commenced to build rail- 
 roads through our country. What use have 
 we for railroads in our country? What have 
 we to transport from our nations? Nothing. 
 We are living wild, really living on the 
 prairies as we have in former times. 1 do 
 not see that we have been benefitted in the 
 least by all the treaties that we have made 
 with the United States Government." 
 
 We went into camp on Medicine Lodge 
 Creek, to wait until the gathering Indians had 
 come in. Near us was a small village of In- 
 dians, to whom a runner came on the third 
 day to notify them that some of their live- 
 stock had been stolen by the Kaws, a neigh- 
 boring tribe. We could see the wave of ex- 
 citement run over the village, and the bucks 
 running to and fro, getting ready for the pur- 
 suit. The squaws were no less active. They 
 helped saddle the ponies, etc., and jabbered 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 61 
 
 and screamed to each other in a way that 
 would have made it hard for the marauders 
 had they been captives in the custody of the 
 squaws. As each buck got ready, he rode 
 away without waiting for his companions. 
 They returned later in the day with their 
 ponies, but had been unable to overtake the 
 thieves. 
 
 I shall never forget the morning of Oc- 
 tober 28, 1867. At a distance of about two 
 miles from our camp was the crest of a low 
 swell in the Plains. The background was blue 
 sky — a blue curtain that touched the brown 
 Plains. For a moment I was dumbfounded 
 at sight of what was rising over that crest 
 and flowing with vivid commotion toward us. 
 It was a glittering, fluttering, gaily colored 
 mass of barbarism, the flower and perfection 
 of the war strength of the Plains Indian tribes. 
 The resplendent warriors, armed with all their 
 equipment and adorned with all the regalia of 
 battle, seemed to be rising out of the earth. 
 Their number was estimated at 15,000, but I 
 cannot vouch for its accuracy. 
 
 As they came into plainer view, the In- 
 dians spread their ranks wider and wider, 
 to create as profound an impression as pos- 
 sible, and inspire us deeply with their power. 
 Now they could be heard chanting and sing- 
 
62 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 ing. Having arrived within a quarter of a 
 mile of our camp, the Indians charged like 
 a whirlwind, firing their guns and brandish- 
 ing them above their heads. The charge was 
 abruptly halted, and the Indians stood at rest, 
 waiting for the negotiations to begin. The 
 tribes represented were the Cheyenne, Arapa- 
 hoe, Kiowa, Apache, and Comanche. 
 
 While the Indians were advancing, and 
 were about half a mile distant, orders were 
 given in camp that every man should retire 
 at once to his tent, and there hold himself in 
 readiness to resist an attack, which might be 
 made at any moment. My boyish curiosity 
 got the better of me, and I was standing just 
 outside the door of my tent, gazing with open 
 mouth at the oncoming Indians. General 
 Harney was walking up and down the line 
 between the tents, encouraging the men, tell- 
 ing them not to be afraid, as we had enough 
 men to whip all the Indians in sight. He saw 
 me as he was passing my tent. Tapping me 
 on the shoulder with his riding whip, he said, 
 "Get back into your tent, young man." I 
 lost no time in obeying him. 
 
 This fine old warrior made a lasting im- 
 pression upon me, and I can see him now, as 
 if it were only yesterday, passing back and 
 forth in the camp street, with the fire of 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 63 
 
 valor burning in his eyes. He felt the re- 
 sponsibility of this critical moment, and knew 
 that the slightest break on either side would 
 precipitate war on the spot. He made an 
 imposing appearance that memorable fall 
 morning. He was gray-haired, straight, broad- 
 shouldered, and towered to the commanding 
 height of six feet and six inches. General 
 Harney was an experienced Indian fighter, and 
 exerted a powerful influence among the Plains 
 tribes. They knew him and respected him, 
 believing that he had always told them the 
 truth. 
 
 The Indians drew up their horses at a 
 distance of about 200 yards. General Harney 
 had motioned to them to stop, and for their 
 principal chiefs to come into camp. The lat- 
 ter were obedient to his request and after dis- 
 mounting, sat down with the peace commis- 
 sioners. At the end of about an hour's con- 
 ference, the main body of Indians was per- 
 mitted to enter camp. There were many In- 
 dian boys not more than ten years old among 
 the warriors, which probably was an artifice 
 to create among us the belief that there were 
 more fighting men than were actually in the 
 ranks. 
 
 Bringing up the rear were the squaws 
 
64 
 
 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 and children and dogs. The squaws pitched 
 their tepees on the creek in sight of our camp. 
 The young bucks spurned all friendly 
 overtures, refusing to shake hands, and con- 
 ducting themselves in a sullen manner. After 
 riding through our camp many times, evi- 
 
 Indian Ration Issue at Fort Sill. 
 
 dently to examine it carefully and gain an 
 accurate knowledge of our strength, they 
 withdrew and remained at a distance. Dur- 
 ing this time the troops were intently watch- 
 ing every movement of the Indians, suspect- 
 ing treachery at every turn. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 65 
 
 The commission and the chiefs finally 
 agreed upon the terms of the treaty, the main 
 point of which was that the Indians should 
 keep south of the Arkansas River. I had rea- 
 son to remember this particular provision in 
 subsequent years, as did many another buffalo- 
 hunter. To venture south of the Arkansas 
 for buffalo was to risk falling into the very 
 jaws of the lion, as the Indians fought jealous- 
 ly for the preservation of the right which they 
 declared had been given to them at Medicine 
 Lodge. 
 
 The making of treaties with the Plains 
 tribes was followed by the breaking of these 
 treaties whenever the Indians saw fit to do so. 
 Conditions generally made it difficult for the 
 Indians to do otherwise. They were beset on 
 all sides by a frontier population that was as 
 hostile to the Indians as the Indian was to 
 the whites. Lack of permanency and con- 
 tinuity in the arrangements made by the Fed- 
 eral government were largely responsible for 
 the unrest and frequent outbreaks. The situ- 
 ation was clearly described by General W. B. 
 Hazen in 1874, when most of the southwestern 
 tribes had gone on the warpath. He said: 
 
 "As one example of this very point, I will 
 call attention to successive treaties made with 
 the Kiowas, Satanta at the head, by five sep- 
 
 5D 
 
66 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 arate and successive commissions, each ignor- 
 ant of what the other had done, and believing 
 that they alone were receiving the fresh faith 
 of these people. Several solemn treaties were 
 made, by which these people were to cease 
 war, and especially raiding into Texas, prev- 
 ious to the Medicine Lodge treaty of 1866, all 
 to be broken within thirty days thereafter. 
 Then comes that of Medicine Lodge, terms of 
 which you know. Then one was made with 
 General Sheridan and myself, at Fort Larned, 
 in the autumn of 1868, to be quickly broken. 
 Then, again, in 1869, with General Sheridan, 
 to be broken not less than twenty times, un- 
 til he was imprisoned in Texas. Then a new 
 farce with the commissioners, by which he was 
 released, and he is now leading the war par- 
 ty of the tribe. This would have been im- 
 possible had there not been men ignorant of 
 the situation, at each successive occasion to 
 deal with these people, nor could it have tak- 
 en place had the Army, with its persistent 
 organization, control of Indian affairs. Such 
 is the case all through the administration of 
 Indian matters. One civil administration, or 
 one set of civil officers, in good faith under- 
 takes an experimental policy, good enough of 
 itself, but as soon as anything is done on the 
 new plan, with all its invariable pledges, and 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 67 
 
 its flattering promises are fully conceived and 
 begun, a new administration begins, with 
 equally good intent, an entirely new policy, 
 unintentionally disregarding all the promises 
 and efforts of its predecessors and their agents. 
 The savage cannot comprehend this, and nat- 
 urally calls it a lie, the white people a nation 
 of liars, and as evidence relates a half dozen 
 cases like that just described. I am giving no 
 fictitious imaginings, but what I know. This 
 thoroughly destroys any faith or interest that 
 otherwise may be nourished in an Indian 
 community; nor can this be changed only by 
 giving them a consecutive policy, which is im- 
 practical only through some branch of gov- 
 ernment that is in itself perpetual." 
 
 The "peace policy" of the Government 
 actually encouraged a number of the more 
 daring chiefs to become defiant in their deal- 
 ings with Washington. When they saw that 
 the Government did not strike back, or strike 
 back quickly, they did not hesitate to go on 
 raids and commit depredations. Shortly after 
 Satanta and Big Tree, Kiowas, had been pa- 
 roled by the Texas authorities, in 1873, the 
 Commissioner of Indian Affairs, then at Fort 
 Sill, demanded the surrender and arrest of 
 certain Comanche warriors who had been raid- 
 ing in Texas, saying that if this order should 
 
68 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 not be obeyed within ten days, it would be 
 inforced by military power. A portion of the 
 Comanche warriors immediately left for the 
 Plains, and it being evident that an attempt 
 to compel compliance by military force could 
 only be successful after a long campaign, the 
 order was suspended and no arrests were 
 made. 
 
 The effect of this wavering policy was bad. 
 The same hostile warriors of the Comanches 
 and Kiowas considering themselves victorious, 
 became more and more open in their hostile 
 demonstrations, and during the winter and 
 spring frequent consultations were held by 
 them, sometimes including the neighboring 
 Gheyennes, looking to the maurading expedi- 
 tions upon a larger scale than for the many 
 years before. Some time in May, at the an- 
 nual "Medicine" dance of the Comanches, near 
 the mouth of the Sweetwater, one of their 
 young men, making his first appearance as a 
 "medicine" man or prophet, professed to have 
 a revelation from the Great Spirit, to the 
 effect that the Gaddoes, Wichitas, and other 
 friendly Indians who were following in the 
 way of the whites, would soon go out of ex- 
 istence, and this would be the fate of the 
 Comanches if they followed the same road; 
 that the only way for them to become the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 69 
 
 great and powerful nation they once were, 
 was to go to war and kill all the white people 
 they could. The Indians said that he pre- 
 dicted the great drouth that occurred that 
 year; and that he told them that the bullets 
 would drop harmlessly from the guns of the 
 white men; that he appealed to them for the 
 truth of his revelation by predicting that the 
 comet, then attracting general attention, would 
 disappear in five days, and made other de- 
 monstrations which to them appeared miracu- 
 lous and obtained for him entire credence for 
 all his words. The hearts of all the young 
 Comanche warriors were at once fired. An- 
 other "medicine" dance was soon after ap- 
 pointed, to which all Kiowas and Cheyennes 
 were invited, when the Comanche "medicine" 
 man again appeared, and at which plans were 
 discussed and determined on for a campaign 
 of murder and rapine. From this period 
 murders and depredations became so frequent 
 as to excite general alarm. 
 
 War parties were soon ranging through 
 what is now western Oklahoma, the Texas 
 Panhandle, western Kansas, and eastern Col- 
 orado. The war plans of the Kiowas, Com- 
 anches and Cheyennes were consolidated by 
 an exciting occurrence at Wichita Agency, 
 
70 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 August 22, 1874, which inflamed them to out- 
 breaks on a larger scale. 
 
 A number of Kiowas and the Noconee 
 band of Comanches with their squaws and 
 children went to the Agency and began raid- 
 ing the fields and gardens of the friendly 
 Wichitas. General J. W. Davidson, in com- 
 mand at Fort Sill, was notified, and he sent 
 Lieutenant Woodward with a detail of forty 
 men of the Tenth Cavalry to disarm the hos- 
 tiles and compel their return to Fort Sill. 
 Big Red Food, the chief, turned over a few 
 guns and pistols, but declared that he would 
 not surrender his bows and arrows. In the 
 latter he was supported by the terms of a 
 recent agreement in which it was held that 
 only guns should be classed as arms. With a 
 whoop Big Red Food and his warriors dashed 
 away. The soldiers fired a volley at the In- 
 dians. The latter destroyed much property 
 and committed several murders in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Agency. The war party quick- 
 ly grew in numbers, and prospect of peace in 
 the Plains country was vanishing. 
 
 Wagon loads of supplies and presents had 
 be brought for the Indians, all of which were 
 now distributed. The supplies were mostly 
 blankets, clothing, hats, sugar, coffee and 
 flour, which were issued to the head men, and 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 71 
 
 these in turn made distribution among the 
 families. The Indians now seemed in much 
 better humor. 
 
 The day was warm, though fall was at 
 hand, and the heat brought much discomfort 
 to some of the Indians — those, for instance, 
 who put on every article of clothing that had 
 been given to them. It was a comical sight 
 to see some of the old bucks wearing two or 
 three heavy coats and two high-crowned Army 
 hats, one on top of the other. Others were 
 attired in Army uniforms, but without trous- 
 ers. The latter was a garment which no wild 
 Indian could be induced to wear. 
 
 In a short time there was much trading 
 going on between the soldiers and the In- 
 dians, but on the sly, as strict orders had 
 been issued against it, especially the trading 
 of any kind of fire-arms to the Indians. The 
 temptation was too strong, however, and I 
 traded my old cap-and-ball six-shooter to an 
 old Indian for three buffalo robes and other 
 trinkets. 
 
 About 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 
 day the Indians came in we got orders to be 
 ready to pull out in an hour. It was nearly 
 sundow^n when we broke camp. We traveled 
 until late that night to reach the Arkansas 
 
"72 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 River crossing, where we went over and made 
 camp. 
 
 We pulled into Fort Marker about No- 
 vember 1, and drove on out to where the rest 
 of the train was in camp. While unloading 
 our wagons at the Post, a rumor spread that 
 gave us some uneasiness — a rumor about what 
 might happen to the fellows who traded fire- 
 arms to the Indians at Medicine Lodge. The 
 fine for a man who had sold a six-shooter 
 would be fifty dollars, which was enough 
 money to buy a whole lot of fun in those days. 
 
 These arms were the property of the 
 United States Government, and proof that a 
 man had sold a gun meant serious trouble. 
 An order came to the men to turn in all 
 their arms. It looked as if I was in bad shape. 
 In my predicament Frickie again came to my 
 aid, and just in the nick of time, by offering 
 to lend me his six-shooter — a six-shooter 
 which he personally owned. I turned in 
 Frickie's gun, and later received another, 
 which I gave to him. 
 
 We had grown rather tired of the job of 
 telling the boys that had stayed behind all 
 about the Medicine Lodge treaty by the time 
 orders came for us to hitch up for a trip to 
 Fort Leavenworth. At Fort Harker was a lot 
 of artillery that had been assembled there in 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 73 
 
 1866 by General Hancock for an Indian cam- 
 paign. He found that dragging cannons here 
 and there over the Plains in pursuit of hostile 
 Indians was about as feasible as hitting a 
 hummingbird with a brickbat. The Indians 
 moved like the wind or like shadows, and 
 were too wary to come within range of ar- 
 tillery. So the cannons were parked at Fort 
 Harker as useless. All of them were to be 
 hauled back by wagon to Fort Leavenworth. 
 Our trail led along the railway for miles, 
 and it seemed ridiculous that the cannons 
 should not be transported by train. The cost 
 of shipment would have been excessive, how- 
 ever, and inasmuch as the government owned 
 the teams and wagons and was paying us by 
 the month there was no good reason why we 
 should not be hauling cannon to Fort Leaven- 
 worth. 
 
 We made our first camp near Salina, Kas., 
 and narrowly escaped losing our wagons by 
 fire. In the early morning, a spark blew 
 from a camp-fire into the tall, dry grass. In- 
 stantly, the fire began running with the speed 
 of a race horse. All hands turned out to save 
 tents, bedding, wagons, etc. By back-firing, 
 and by beating out the flames near our tents, 
 we were able to get the fire under con- 
 trol. At best, however, we would have lost 
 
74 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 our wagons had it not been for our good luck 
 in having the teams hitched before the fire 
 broke out. This enabled us to shift the po- 
 sition of the wagons as necessity required. 
 
 The fires on the Plains in fall and winter, 
 after frost had cured the grass, were often a 
 magnificent spectacle, especially at night when 
 their radiance reddened the sky for many 
 miles. The sky would be luminous, even 
 though the fire was too far beyond the horizon 
 to be seen. Once under strong headway, with 
 the fire spread over a wide area, it was dif- 
 ficult to arrest its progress. To the experi- 
 enced plainsman, equipped with a flint or 
 matches, there was no imminent danger, as 
 he knew how to set out protective fires, and 
 thus insure his safety. 
 
 These big fires were rather terrifying, 
 nevertheless, especially to the "tenderfoot." 
 Carried forward in the teeth of a high, boister- 
 ous wind, the fire was appalling, and there 
 was something sinister and somber in the 
 low roar that sent terror to the heart of wild 
 animals. Vast clouds of smoke were carried 
 into the heavens, until the sun lost its radi- 
 ance and hung red and dull, like a copper 
 shield, in the opaque depths. The ashes of 
 burned vegetation sifted down hour after 
 hour, as if a volcano were throwing out fine 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 75 
 
 lava dust. At night, when the wind was still, 
 a fire on the Plains was a beautiful sight. In 
 the far distance, the tongues of flame appeared 
 so small that they looked like a red line of 
 countless fingers, pointing with trembling mo- 
 tion toward the sky. The danger of these 
 fires to life in the Plains country has com- 
 monly exaggerated. The grass that grew in 
 the Plains did not have the height to pro- 
 duce a sweeping, high-rolling fire, such as 
 was often seen in the regions of the tall 
 bluestem in eastern Kansas. 
 
 Upon reaching Fort Leavenworth, the 
 w^agons were unloaded, the outfits turned over 
 to the Government, and the "shave-tail driv- 
 ers" paid off. I had a comfortable stake for 
 a young fellow, and spent the winter in 
 Leavenworth and Kansas City, mingling with 
 the hardy frontiersmen and listening delighted- 
 ly to their incomparable tales of adventure. 
 I went frequently to the home of my friends, 
 the McCall's, where I always found a hospit- 
 able welcome. Several times I went out from 
 both Leavenworth and Kansas City with hunt- 
 ing parties. In those days, railroad companies 
 used to promote "personally conducted" hunt- 
 ing parties to the buffalo range, hunters com- 
 ing from such distances as Cincinnati, Chica- 
 go, and St. Louis. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 T N the spring of 1868 I obtained employment 
 -*" with a man named Powell who owned a 
 store at Baxter Springs, Kas. Powell owned 
 a train of six wagons, all drawn by four- 
 mule teams, which he kept on the road haul- 
 ing lumber and supplies from Leavenworth to 
 Baxter. Much has been written about Dodge 
 City, Caldwell and Abilene as wild and woolly 
 towns in frontier days. None of them was 
 livelier than Baxter Springs, especially after 
 the completion of the railroad to that point. 
 Baxter was the northern terminus of a trail 
 from Texas across Indian Territory, Indian 
 Territory was infested by the most desperate 
 class of men I ever saw, most of whom were 
 citizens of that lawless country. Baxter 
 Springs supplied in abundance all that the 
 most dissipated character could wish for in 
 the way of whisky, women, gambling and 
 fighting. The story of the early days at Bax- 
 ter would make a fascinating book. 
 
 At Baxter I saw the battleground where 
 Quantrell, the guerrilla, captured General 
 Blunt's supply train in 1864. The capture was 
 virtually a horrible massacre by this blood- 
 thirsty "partisan ranger" and his men. I was 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 77 
 
 told that Quantrell got General Blunt's uni- 
 form, and afterwards wore it. I could still 
 see the bullet marks on the trees where the 
 fight took place. 
 
 I remember with Powell most of that 
 summer, hauling from Kansas City part of the 
 time. I was still bent upon getting further 
 west. I thirsted for adventure, but as yet 
 had seen only the mere fringe of it. At the 
 end of several months, I went to Leavenworth 
 with a lot of freighters, and there met up 
 with a man named Cox who was hiring men 
 to go with a mule train to Fort Hays. I hired 
 to Cox, as did Sam Harkness, a companion 
 with whom I had worked all summer. To our 
 great satisfaction, we found that the mules, 
 which had been shipped from Missouri and 
 Kentucky, were all broke, and by no means 
 the desperate "shave-tails" that confronted me 
 when I started from Leavenworth for the first 
 time. 
 
 These were exciting times. The very air 
 buzzed with news of Indian depredations. 
 The Government was rushing troops and sup- 
 plies to the front, as if the world were com- 
 ing to an end. The Indians had broke out 
 again, and were leaving a trail of blood and 
 ashes in the valley of the Solomon, where set- 
 tlements were in abject terror, not knowing at 
 
78 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 what moment a swiftly moving war party 
 might descend and murder the inhabitants, 
 burn the buildings and drive off the livestock. 
 Worst of all was the nature of the cruelties 
 inflicted by the Indians upon all who fell into 
 their clutches. The outrages upon women 
 were too horrible to be described. The 
 forays extended into the Saline valley. 
 
 The Indians had kept the treaty that had 
 been made at Medicine Lodge the previous 
 year only until the moment the grass was 
 green enough to feed their ponies and bring 
 back the buffaloes. The Indian was able to 
 live and flourish solely upon buffalo meat, 
 and so long as he had buffalo meat he would 
 eat no other, not even venison, antelope or 
 wild turkey. 
 
 Cox loaded- his six hundred mules and 
 his drivers aboard train and we started over 
 the Kansas Pacific for Fort Hays. This rail- 
 road now extended as far west as Denver. We 
 reached Fort Hays October 15, 1868. The fall 
 was cold and disagreeable with lots of rain. 
 To add to our discomfort, really our misery, 
 we found that all the mules, big fellows from 
 Missouri and Kentucky, were as wild as wolves, 
 not one of them having been broke. Worst 
 of all there was no time to break them. The 
 Government wanted supplies rushed forward 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 79 
 
 with all possible haste to what was known as 
 Camp of Supply, afterwards Gamp Supply, a 
 military garrison, at the junction of Beaver 
 and Wolf Greek in what is now Woodward 
 Gounty, Oklahoma. 
 
 The "wild west" performances in recent 
 years were tame affairs compared with the 
 handling of those mules. It was with a feel- 
 ing of desperation that each man crawled out 
 of his warm bed in the half light of early 
 morning, ate his breakfast and then went out 
 into the raw, drizzly cold to harness his mules. 
 Kicking, squealing and bucking, they wore 
 out a man's patience, and he was tempted to 
 use his six-shooter on the devilish animals. 
 To get them harnessed and hitched and the 
 wagons strung out was a Napoleonic job. 
 Once on the road, however, there was little to 
 do beyond holding the mules in line, as the 
 wagons were too heavily loaded for the mules 
 to run away. When everything was moving, 
 there were one hundred wagons and six hun- 
 dred mules going down the trail. Our dis- 
 comfort was increased by the fact that much 
 of the time the ground was covered with 
 snow. Our supplies were to equip Guster's 
 command that later was to fight the battle of 
 the Washita and wipe out Black Kettle and 
 his band, to be followed still later by Gen- 
 
80 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 eral Sheridan's going south and whipping the 
 hostiles so badly that they never fully recov- 
 ered their courage. The Indians were sub- 
 dued mostly by the fact that the Government 
 made a winter campaign, something that the 
 Indians had never experienced. They were 
 caught between the guns of the soldiers and 
 the necessity of having food, shelter and 
 w^armth for their families and feed for their 
 ponies. Defeat was inevitable under such 
 dire circumstances. 
 
 The first day out we got to Smoky Hill 
 River and camped for the night. We then 
 pulled to Walnut Creek, and the third day 
 brought us to Pawnee Fork. Between this 
 place and w^hat is now the town of Buckner, 
 Kas., w^e had a stampede that for real excite- 
 ment beat anything I had ever seen. The 
 mules ran in every possible direction, over- 
 turning wagons, and outfit colliding with out- 
 fit until it looked as if there would never be 
 a pound of freight delivered at Supply. Many 
 of the wagons were so badly demolished that 
 they had to be abandoned and left behind. 
 Their loads were piled on other wagons and 
 carried forward. 
 
 Our route carried us past Saw Log Creek, 
 Fort Dodge — there was no Dodge City at that 
 time — Mulberry Creek, and thence to Bluff 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 81 
 
 Creek. Here we sighted buffalo, the first we 
 had seen on the trip. As we advanced fur- 
 ther from the border of civihzation buffalo 
 grew more plentiful, so plentiful that between 
 Bluff Creek and the Cimarron a big herd of 
 stampeding buffaloes bore squarely down upon 
 our train. Things looked squally, as there 
 was danger, not only of being run over by 
 the buffaloes but of our mules running away, 
 a disaster that would have been costly. A 
 troop of cavalry was deployed to drive back 
 or turn the oncoming herd. Every man in the 
 outfit got out his gun, and we were able to 
 give the buffaloes a reception that brought 
 many of them to the ground, saved the mule 
 train, and filled our pots and skillets with fine 
 meat. 
 
 We reached Camp Supply at the end of 
 a twelve days' journey. The supplies were 
 unloaded on the ground and covered with 
 tarpaulins. The site had been chosen by Gen- 
 eral Sully, upon the recommendation of an 
 old scout, "Uncle John" Smith, who had been 
 on the frontier about thirty years, and is said 
 to have been the first white man that ever 
 visited the country bordering the two Cana- 
 dians. We did not see a single Indian during 
 the trip to Supply. 
 
 Returning to Fort Hays, we made a sec- 
 
 6D 
 
82 
 
 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 end trip down without mishap. But trouble 
 was in store for us on our way back. The 
 unloaded wagons were comparatively light, 
 
 Wood-Jumler Found Scalped Near Fort Dodge. 
 
 and the mules could easily pull them. We 
 were driving two wagons abreast. Nobody 
 ever knew what scared one of the rear teams. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 83 
 
 but it certatinly got scared, and that particu- 
 lar outfit was soon going in the direction of 
 Missouri and Kentucky at the rate of about 
 thirty miles an hour. The rattling and bang- 
 ing and jolting of the wagon, and the shout- 
 ing and swearing of the driver caused a tu- 
 mult that spread panic among other teams 
 and the stampede quickly reached the lead 
 teams. So here we went, in every possible 
 direction. It was impossible to hold the mules. 
 Wagons were overturned, broken and scattered 
 over the prairie for miles, and some of the 
 mules were so badly crippled that they had 
 to be shot. Some tore themselves loose from 
 their harness and ran so far away that they 
 were never found. The spectacle of those 
 six hundred mules running away with their 
 one hundred wagons was the most remark- 
 able I ever witnessed. 
 
 One outfit, including both the wagon and 
 the six mules, disappeared completely. I found 
 them in 1871 when I was hunting buffaloes on 
 that range. The wagon and the carcasses of 
 the mules were in a draw or small canyon, 
 about 12 miles from where the stampede be- 
 gan. In their headlong course, the mules 
 could not stop when they came to the brink 
 of the draw, so in they went, with the wagon 
 piling on top of them. They were still hitched 
 
84 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 to the wagon, but badly tangled in the har- 
 ness. In the wagon was an Army needle-gun, 
 which showed that I was the first person to 
 reach the spot. 
 
 After this experience, the mules were 
 harder than ever to control, and would "run 
 at the drop of the hat" or the flip of a prairie 
 dog's tail. 
 
 Fort Hays, at this time was the supply 
 point for all the Government forts to the 
 south, and remained as such until the Santa 
 Fe railroad came through in the fall of 1872. 
 I remained at Fort Hays until the fall of 1869, 
 and this was my last work for the Govern- 
 ment until 1874, when I was employed as a 
 scout and guide under General Miles. During 
 the five years I had been making my own way 
 in the world, I had worked for the Govern- 
 ment most of the time. 
 
 I was now eighteen years old, in perfect 
 health, strong and muscular, with keen eye- 
 sight, a natural aptitude for outdoor life, an 
 excellent shot, and had a burning desire to 
 experience every phase of adventure to be 
 found on the Plains. I had worked all the 
 summer of 1869 with George Smith and Tom 
 Campbell, and liked them so well that we 
 had planned fitting up an outfit to hunt and 
 trap that winter. So along in November the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 85 
 
 three of us bought a good team and wagon, 
 traps and provisions, and guns and ammuni- 
 tion and started north along the Saline River. 
 Campbell was an old trapper and knew how 
 to take beaver, which were fairly plentiful 
 along the streams. 
 
 My happiness now seemed complete, and 
 I enjoyed to the fullest every moment of my 
 life. Storm nor darkness nor hunger nor toil 
 cooled my ardor in the slightest degree. We 
 caught not only beaver, but several otter. 
 Wolves abounded everywhere, and we trap- 
 ped a large number. Their pelts were worth 
 from $2.50 to $3 each. In this way we put 
 in the winter, and made good money. We 
 had a warm, comfortable dugout, with plenty 
 of wood and water. I had no wish to return 
 to a city. At intervals we would take a load 
 of game to Hays City, where there was a ready 
 market. Once we took in a load of elk, and 
 got twenty dollars apiece for the carcasses. 
 The hunting of buffaloes for their hides 
 began in the spring of 1870. That was also 
 the beginning of the destruction of the buf- 
 falo. As I remember, the hunting was started 
 by a firm of eastern hide-buyers whose agents 
 came to Hays City and other towns near the 
 buffalo range and offered prices, that made 
 hide-hunting a profitable occupation. 
 
86 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 We were in the very heart of the best 
 buffalo country between the Dominion of 
 Canada and the Rio Grande, and quickly 
 abandoned trapping for buffalo hunting. The 
 first offers were $1 each for cowhides and $2 
 each for bull hides, which enabled us to make 
 money rapidly. As the slaughter increased, 
 and the buffaloes grew scarcer prices were 
 advanced, until $4 was being paid for bull 
 hides by the fall of 1872. 
 
 During the winter of 1870 we ranged all 
 over western Kansas, but principally along 
 the Republican River and its tributaries. Gen- 
 erally, there were three or four men in an 
 outfit, each having contributed his share for 
 necessary expenses. They went where the 
 range was best, and buffaloes most plentiful. 
 A dugout was built and occupied as perma- 
 nent headquarters camp, the hunters ranging 
 for miles through the surrounding country. 
 The only kind of dugout worth having was 
 one with a big, open fire-place, near the edge 
 of a stream of good water, with plenty of 
 wood along its banks. We often occupied the 
 same dugout for a month or more. Then, as 
 the buffaloes grew less plentiful, we shifted 
 our camp and built a new dugout, which was 
 easily and quickly done. 
 
 From where the buffaloes were killed in 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 87 
 
 the range, we hauled the hides to camp, 
 where we dried them and hauled them to 
 market. Though I was not quite eighteen 
 years of age, there were very few men who 
 could excel me in marksmanship, which pos- 
 sibly was a natural gift supplemented by 
 more or less constant practice. 
 
 I always did my own killing, and gener- 
 ly had two experienced men to do the skin- 
 ning. A capable man could skin fifty buffa- 
 loes a day, and usually was paid $50 a month. 
 I have paid as much as twenty-five cents a 
 hide to a good skinner. We often killed the 
 buffaloes the day before they were to be 
 skinned. 
 
 During the fall, Smith and Campbell grew 
 tired of the business and wanted to quit. I 
 bought the outfit, and straightway hired two 
 men to work for me, and started out killing 
 buffaloes more energetically than ever. One 
 of my skinners was a Mexican and the other 
 a man named Perkins. 
 
 Up to this time I had hunted north of 
 the Kansas Pacific railroad, and as far west 
 as Fort Wallace. As the fall advanced, I be- 
 gan ranging further south, as the buffaloes 
 were becoming somewhat scarce. I was mov- 
 ing toward a country of future trouble — 
 trouble with Indians — and to a region where 
 
88 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 in time I should meet with more adventure 
 than I had ever dreamed of. 
 
 We moved south of Hays City about ten 
 miles and came to a boiling spring that flowed 
 from an opening in solid rock. Here we de- 
 cided to make our permanent camp for the 
 winter, so we built a picket house and a big 
 dugout, expecting to dry a lot of buffalo meat 
 for market, but finally abandoned this scheme. 
 Our camp was on a main-traveled road lead- 
 ing to Hays City. Freighters and hunters 
 urged me to establish a road ranch or store, 
 where such supplies as were used in that 
 country could be purchased in reasonable 
 quantities. Having some spare money, I 
 stocked up with tobacco, whisky and a gen- 
 eral line of groceries, and employed a man 
 named Billy Reynolds to run the place for 
 me, while I devoted my time to killing buffa- 
 loes. Many a jolly company gathered at the 
 road ranch at the boiling spring. The sale 
 of whisky was a common practice in those 
 days, as whisky was freely used by frontiers- 
 men, and its sale was expected as a matter 
 of course. Other conditions were too hard and 
 too pressing for the question of the morals 
 of the traffic to be raised as it was in 
 later years, when the country became more 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 89 
 
 thickly settled, and an entirely new order of 
 things was established. 
 
 I was well acquainted with Reynolds, and 
 liked him, having formed his acquaintance on 
 the Custer expedition to Camp Supply in 1868 
 when he was a mule-driver. He was a friend- 
 ly, whole-souled kind of fellow, and knew 
 just how to treat men to get their trade. I 
 made good money out of this venture until 
 1871 when the income abruptly and perman- 
 ently ceased — during my absence Reynolds 
 sold the whole outfit and skipped the country, 
 without even telling me good bye. I had 
 been absent two weeks when I returned one 
 day to find only the empty building. I never 
 again heard of Rilly Reynolds. I doubt that 
 his robbing me was ever to his final advant- 
 age. Money obtained in that way never 
 brought good luck, even in the Plains country, 
 where men were judged by rougher standards 
 than prevailed further east. 
 
 I formed another partnership with a man 
 named Finn, who was square and honest, and 
 sold him an interest in the business. I had 
 known him a number of years. He added an- 
 other good team to the outfit. He had been 
 a Government teamster and had served in the 
 Civil War. He was a good story-teller, and 
 when the day's work was done, and we were 
 
90 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 comfortably seated around the fire, nothing 
 pleased me more than to get Finn started tell- 
 ing stories. He was a native of Ireland, which 
 gave a fine spice to his tales. 
 
 Finn and I hunted together about a year. 
 During this time I had for a skinner another 
 Irishman, a man named Mike McCabe. Mike 
 had red hair, and a fiery temper. But he was 
 a fine fellow, and I thought a great deal of 
 him. He w^as one of the best workers I ever 
 saw. Mike would fight at the drop of the 
 hat, and again w^ould sulk for weeks at a 
 time over a fancied wrong. The men nick- 
 named him "Cranky" or "Fighting" McCabe. 
 When he was in good humor a livelier fellow 
 could not be found, but the moment he got a 
 grouch he clouded up like a Panhandle thun- 
 derstorm. 
 
 The only thing in the world McCabe was 
 afraid of was an Indian, of which I shall 
 write later. Though small in size, McCabe 
 would fight a man twice his size, and always 
 give a good account of himself. His consum- 
 ing passion was gambling, and when he struck 
 town he invariably lost everything he had 
 at the card table. He worked for me, off and 
 on, for three years, and was with me at the 
 fight at Adobe Walls. 
 
 During the time McCabe was with my out- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 91 
 
 fit the two of us got along amicably, save 
 when he would imagine that the world was 
 against him, whereupon in a great huff he 
 would quit, draw all his pay, and strike out 
 for the nearest town — and its first gambling 
 house within his reach. There he would re- 
 main until his last dollar was gone. Some 
 fine morning McCabe would show up with 
 beaming face' and good-natured blarney, take 
 his old job, and work even better than before. 
 
 Once he had been sulking for almost a 
 week and had not spoken to a man in camp. 
 When we started hunting, we decided to pull 
 out and leave him at the ranch alone, which 
 we did. After making our kill of buffaloes, 
 we started back. When we got in sight of 
 the ranch we were astonished at seeing Mc- 
 Cabe dancing on a dry buffalo robe stretched 
 on the ground. He was giving all the fancy 
 steps and dancing as if a full orchestra were 
 playing. Upon seeing us, he stopped danc- 
 ing, and seemed chagrined. He had been en- 
 tertaining himself. His conduct was rather 
 laughable. 
 
 I rarely ever made a full settlement with 
 McCabe. as he preferred to draw his pay in 
 installments. I paid him fifty dollars a month. 
 Sometimes he would have several hundred 
 dollars ahead, and again he would be con- 
 
92 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 siderably overdrawn. Finally, he decided he 
 would quit for good. Getting down to the 
 job of a settlement, I carefully figured each 
 item and found that just two dollars were due 
 him, whereupon he said, with a twinkle in 
 his eye, "It beats the devil that a man should 
 work three long years and get just two dol- 
 lars." He went away in good humor, and we 
 were always warm friends. 
 
 Finn and I were together until the next 
 fall. He then took a notion to go back east 
 and visit his folks, whom he had not seen 
 since the Civil War. He was a frugal man, 
 and did not smoke, chew tobacco nor drink 
 whisky. His share of the year's work amounted 
 to $5,000, which gave him a pretty good stake. 
 He went to Rochester, New York, invested his 
 money and was soon doing a profitable busi- 
 ness. Several years afterwards he wrote to 
 me saying that he longed to come back to the 
 Plains country and its free life, but he never 
 came. 
 
 Before Finn went away we had taken 
 into partnership a man named Jack Callahan, 
 who had been a Government wagonmaster 
 at Fort Hays. Jack never saw the dark side 
 of things, and was a delightful companion. 
 During the winter of 1871 Jack and I were 
 hunting on the headwaters of Pawnee Fork, 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 93 
 
 drifting back and forth from there to Smoky 
 Hill and Walnut Creek and their tributaries. 
 Our permanent camp was on Hackberry Creek, 
 a branch of Pawnee Fork. Along in No- 
 vember we had one of the worst blizzards I 
 ever saw. It was this terrible storm that 
 caught a wagon train loaded with cordwood 
 for Hays City. This was Snuffer's bull train. 
 All the cattle froze to death. The men were 
 in a frightful condition when found. The 
 outfit had been to Camp Supply with freight, 
 and on the return trip had loaded up with 
 cordwood on Walnut Creek. 
 
 The storm struck them just as they went 
 into camp for the night, after the stock had 
 been turned loose to graze. When the storm 
 broke, every man turned out to help hold 
 the stock, and many of them were soon lost 
 in the blinding swirl. One man, the cook, 
 managed to find his way back to camp; he 
 was found dead in his wagon, frozen stiff. 
 Where he had tried to make a fire in the 
 bottom of the wagon could be plainly seen. 
 He had burned the endgate in his vain ef- 
 forts. The wind blew with such terrific 
 force that the fire was blown away in all di- 
 rections. Though surrounded with enormous 
 quantities of wood, all within easy reach, the 
 poor fellow perished for want of fire. 
 
94 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 There was hardly a man in this ill-fated 
 outfit who did not suffer the loss of a hand, 
 a foot, or a limb. The men were camped in 
 Five Mile Hollow^ five miles from Hays City, 
 and when news of the affair reached town 
 next day, all the citizens turned out to search 
 for the missing men, gathering them up and 
 taking them to the hospital at Hays City. 
 Some of the bewildered men wandered to my 
 road-ranch, where Billy Reynolds was in 
 charge, and there found shelter and protec- 
 tion from the storm. 
 
 A few days after the storm had abated 
 I decided to make a trip to Hays City, and 
 bring back supplies for the outfit, so I hooked 
 four mules to a wagon and hitched my sad- 
 dle horse to the side. I rarely ever went out 
 on the road without my saddle horse. The 
 mules seemed to be more contented when 
 accompanied by a horse, and in case of 
 trouble I stood a better show of getting away 
 on horseback. 
 
 Our camp was on Hackberry, and I went 
 prepared to stay all night with Reynolds at 
 the road-ranch, the first night out. When I 
 got there I found the place deserted. I could 
 not imagine why Reynolds was not there and 
 did not learn the reason until I reached Hays, 
 driving there that night. I saw Snuffer's wag- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 95 
 
 ons corralled at Five Mile Hollow when I 
 passed that place, but heard nothing of what 
 had happened until I got to Hays. Here I 
 learned the no less surprising news that 
 Reynolds had sold everything at the road- 
 ranch and had skipped the country. 
 
 The day after I reached town the ex- 
 press agent came into the hotel office where 
 I was stopping and asked if a man could be 
 found who would take a load of express to 
 Fort Dodge or Gamp Supply, saying that there 
 was a lot of express for both places. As I had 
 a good team, and there was no great need 
 of my hurrying back to headquarters, I told 
 him I would go. I also wanted to look that 
 country over for buffaloes. 
 
 I loaded and started for Fort Dodge with 
 fifteen hundred pounds of express, making 
 Walnut Greek the first night and staying at a 
 road-ranch run by Johnny Quinn, afterwards 
 killed at that place. The weather was bitter 
 cold when I started next morning, and by 
 10 o'clock it was spitting snow and getting 
 colder every minute. I walked part of the 
 time to keep warm. My load was bulky 
 rather than heavy. I felt the cold driving 
 into my very bones, and realized my danger. 
 I was determined that I would not permit my- 
 self to sink into drowsiness, as this meant 
 
96 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 death. Reaching a long divide, I dropped 
 down the slope with my mules in a gallop, 
 and luckily was soon in sight of a road-ranch 
 kept by John O'Laughlin. I was scarcely 
 able to speak when I drove up and found 
 half a dozen men coming to meet me, all 
 eager to hear the news from town, whatever 
 it might be. In answer to their questions I 
 merely shook my head. My jaws were set 
 like a vice. I could not speak a word. They 
 saw instantly my condition. Running into the 
 dugout they began piling wood into the fire- 
 place, and the room was soon as hot as an 
 oven. I thawed gradually, burning like h live 
 coal one moment and shivering the next as 
 if I had a fit of ague. This was my first ex- 
 perience with killing cold. In later days, af- 
 ter I became a Government scout, I had many 
 similar experiences. I once made a ride with 
 dispatches, and became so stiff with cold by 
 the time I had reached the end of my journey 
 that I could not dismount from my horse — I 
 simply let go and fell off. 
 
 In the Pawnee Fork and Saw Log country 
 I had seen lots of buffaloes, a sight which al- 
 ways held me with endless fascination. When 
 I got to Fort Dodge the third night out I 
 heard that the buffaloes had drifted in by 
 thousands during the blizzard, and that the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 97 
 
 garrisons had to fire a piece of artillery to 
 keep them from breaking down the buildings 
 and corrals. 
 
 Next day I mounted my horse and struck 
 off up the Arkansas to look over the country, 
 traveling up the valley for about thirty-five 
 miles. There had certainly been an enor- 
 mous number of buffaloes in the country. I 
 could see where the grass had been flattened 
 and the willow thickets cropped close by the 
 tired and hungry animals. In every direction 
 could be seen the spots where the buffaloes 
 had bedded down for the night. But now there 
 was not a buffalo in sight. 
 
 Lured on by the hope of catching sight 
 of the vast multitude that had passed that 
 way, I kept on up the valley, but without 
 success. Then I determined to proceed to 
 the Plains, which I did. Riding to a high 
 point I turned my eyes across the plains. I 
 held my breath in my astonishment at the 
 wonderful sight. As far as I could see there 
 was a solid mass of buffalo, quietly grazing 
 on the curly mesquite, now brown with win- 
 ter. At no other time in my life did I ever 
 see such a vast number of buffaloes. For 
 miles in every direction the country was 
 alive with them. 
 
 At this point I want to say that in all my 
 
 7D 
 
98 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 experience in the buffalo country I never saw 
 one die of old age and exhaustion, and can 
 remember seeing only one "on the lift" — that 
 is, in a situation where he could go no fur- 
 ther. This one, an old bull, had got fast in 
 a bog on the Canadian, and was unable to 
 get out. Riding up to him, I threw my lariat 
 over his head, after I had given my lariat a 
 hitch over the horn of my saddle, and pulled 
 the old fellow to firm ground. I left him 
 grazing contentedly on the bank. The buf- 
 falo was a hardy animal, and though they 
 often got very thin during a hard winter, yet 
 they never became so thin and starved as to 
 go off their feet like cattle. 
 
 I returned to Fort Dodge fully satisfied 
 with my day's ride, and next day started on 
 my return trip to Fort Hays. By the time I 
 reached Fort Hays, a considerable number of 
 hunters had been driven in by the storm. I 
 told them of the black ocean of buffaloes I 
 had seen northwest of Fort Dodge, which was 
 good news to them, and set every man to 
 overhauling his outfit. 
 
 I was impatient to reach my camp, so I 
 loaded up with supplies and pulled out. I 
 found the boys in good shape and glad to 
 see me. Next day we made a scout out west 
 of Hackberry, and found thousands of buffa- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 99 
 
 loes. It was plain that the big herd had 
 drifted a long way during the blizzard, and 
 had been as far south as the Arkansas. When 
 the weather moderated they worked back to 
 their old range. 
 
 Along in May, 1872, we moved our camp 
 from Hackberry to a point north of the Kan- 
 sas Pacific railroad. 
 
 While in camp on Hackberry I met with 
 an experience which rarely ever happened to 
 me— I got completely lost, so badly that I had 
 no idea of direction. Perkins and I had been 
 out all day killing and skinning buffaloes. 
 We had worked late, and it had grown cloudy 
 and dark when we started for camp. Both 
 were afoot. In moving from each fallen 
 buffalo to another we had wandered furth- 
 er than we suspected. Each thought camp 
 was in a different direction. So positive 
 was Perkins that he was right that I fol- 
 lowed him for a time. 
 
 I was relying mostly upon the direction of 
 the buffalo trails and when I found that we 
 were crossing them instead of following them, 
 I was convinced that we had lost our bearings. 
 I called Perkin's attention to the trails. He in- 
 sisted that he was going in the right direction. 
 Perkins was a windy story-teller, and was re- 
 lating a war tale. I disliked to interrupt him. 
 
100 Life of "Billy" D 
 
 IXON 
 
 Finally, however, I said that unless the wind 
 had changed we were certainly going in the 
 wrong direction. 
 
 "Oh, the wind has changed," he replied: 
 "I knew it would this morning." 
 
 About this time we reached the head of a 
 draw, on which we thought our camp was sit- 
 uated. At that moment the clouds drifted 
 from the face of the moon, and we saw a 
 bunch of buffaloes that had bedded down for 
 the night. This convinced me that Perkins 
 was "going it wild," as I was sure that butfalo 
 would not stay that close to our camp. 
 
 Rovers that we were, with sails turned 
 for every wind, we decided to kill some of 
 the buffaloes, as they would be conveniently 
 at hand, for skinning next morning, and we 
 shot five or six. 
 
 Pursuing our way down the draw, I was 
 soon positive that we were lost. Perkins put 
 up a lively argument to prove that he was 
 not mistaken. When we reached another 
 bunch of buffaloes that had bedded, Perkins 
 threw up the sponge. Four bulls were lying 
 together. We blazed into them, made a warm 
 bed of two hides, with the hair turned in= 
 side, and made a dry camp for the night. We 
 slept as warm as if we were in a feather bed, 
 though the night was cold. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 101 
 
 In after years I thought many times of 
 that night on the Plains. Of how tired we 
 were, of how the wind whistled past us, of 
 how the cold seemed to come down out of 
 the sky, heavy and chill, and of how icily the 
 moon shone as she sailed westward. Save 
 for the occasional howling of wolves and 
 coyotes, the night was supernaturally silent. 
 It was the stillness of the primeval solitude. 
 It was the stuff that makes a man in a warm 
 bed under a roof feel like getting up to sad- 
 dle his horse and ride away to this Land 
 of Nowhere. Once in the blood, it can never 
 be lost. Home-sickness for the Plains and 
 their free, open life stings like a hornet. 
 
 Perkins and I slept late next morning. 
 The sun was shining in my face when I heard 
 something scratching and clawing on the hide 
 with which we were covered. There were lots 
 of skunks in the country, and lately several 
 men had been bitten by them. I thought of 
 skunks, of which I stool in dread, as I would 
 have preferred being bitten by a rattlesnake. 
 
 Bracing myself, I kicked the hide with all 
 my might, to throw it as far as possible from 
 both of us. Instead of a skunk, I was as- 
 tonished to see a big eagle that had been 
 trying to get his breakfast by picking the 
 meat off the fresh hide. That eagle was so 
 
102 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 badly scared that I am sure he must have 
 had an attack of heart failure. He flopped 
 around before he could get up enough steam 
 to take wing, and even then he hovered in the 
 air as if uncertain which way to fly. I could 
 have killed him with the butt of my gun. 
 I had no wish to do this, however, and watched 
 him recover his wits and soar away. 
 
 I do not believe that I exaggerate when 
 I say that Perkins jumped Ave feet into the 
 air when I kicked oiT the buifalo hide. He 
 told me that he was sure Indians had nailed 
 us, and that his scalp-lock twitched all day. 
 
 Coming out of the draw where we had 
 made our bed, we ascended a high point and 
 scanned the surrounding country, hoping to 
 locate our camp. Nothing looked familiar to 
 us. We struck out in the direction we thought 
 camp ought to be. We walked until nearly 
 night before we got back to camp. 
 
 By noon I was growing ravenously hun- 
 gry. I suggested to Perkins that we kill a 
 buffalo and broil some of the meat. We shot 
 a 2-year-old heifer, and soon had a hump 
 steak sizzling on the fire. No meal ever 
 gave me greater satisfaction, though we had 
 no salt or bread. 
 
 We were fagged and footsore when we 
 reached camp. James Donnelly, the man we 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 103 
 
 had left in camp, had given us up as dead, 
 confident that we had been killed by Indians. 
 He had packed the outfit, harnessed the mules 
 and was just at the point of pulling out for 
 Hays City when we hailed him. We would 
 have been left in bad shape had he gone. 
 During the morning a band of twelve or fif- 
 teen Indians had passed in sight of camp, 
 and as we had been missing two days and 
 one night, Donnelly naturally concluded that 
 the Indians had killed us. After he saw the 
 Indians he made up his mind that the best 
 thing for him to do was to leave as quickly 
 as possible for the Fort. 
 
 During the summer of 1872 we hunted 
 along the Saline and Solomon, frequently en- 
 countering small bands of Indians. Generally, 
 they were going north or south, and though 
 they were supposed to be friendly, we watched 
 them closely. Occasionally, we heard of a 
 hunter being killed, but this did not bother 
 us, so long as we were not molested. Some- 
 times, Indians came into our camp. They 
 were always hungry. We always fed them. 
 They love sugar and coffee, and for either 
 were willing to trade anything they had. The 
 Kiowas were especially fond of sugar. The 
 liking for sweet things was not peculiar to 
 the white man. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 WE started south to the Arkansas River 
 in the fall of 1872, and when we got to 
 where Dodge City now stands, we found the 
 first buildings under construction. None of 
 us dreamed of the reputation that was to 
 come to that town through its gun men. There 
 were only a few houses at Dodge. I remem- 
 ber that the Cox house, the first hotel, was 
 open. Deciding to "put on airs," we went to 
 the hotel for dinner. Our bill of fare was 
 pork and beans, black coffee, bread and pep- 
 per sauce, especially pepper sauce, for which 
 we paid seventy-five cents. We could have 
 beat it, hands down, in our own camp. I 
 can recall the names of a number of the 
 first business establishments : 
 
 Wright & Company ("Rob" Wright), gen- 
 eral supply store. 
 
 Zimmerman's hardware, gun and am- 
 munition store. 
 
 McCart & Fringer, drug store. Fringer 
 afterwards was judge of Ford county court. 
 
 Kelly & Reaty, saloon. Kelly was a jolly, 
 good-natured man, and was always popular. 
 He was always called "Dog" Kelly. 
 
 Murray & Waters, saloon. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 105 
 
 Beeson & Harris, saloon. 
 
 Hoover's saloon. 
 
 The buildings were mostly box affairs, 
 and built in the quickest possible way. But a 
 palace does not make happiness, and I am 
 sure that in the rough, frontier towns of those 
 days there was lots of contentment and good 
 cheer in the rudest shacks. The wind and 
 the snow came in at the cracks in winter, 
 and in summer the rain beat through and the 
 red dust swirled along the floor, but we paid 
 little attention to such things. Our skin was 
 tough and we had many things to occupy our 
 lime. We were constantly in the open air, 
 which hardened us until we suffered scarcely 
 any annoyance from wind or weather, such 
 as would have been looked upon as hardships 
 not to be endured, by men living cooped up in 
 cities, where there is rarely a chance to fill 
 one's lungs with fresh air, and where heaviest 
 clothing cannot compensate for lack of physi- 
 cal exercise. It is possible by exposure for 
 men to toughen their skin and their bodies, 
 just as they can toughen their hands. The 
 Indian is a good example of this fact. 
 
 At this time Dodge City was the terminus 
 of the Santa Fe railroad. The railroad com- 
 pany was still grading, and had moved as 
 far west as the State line, at Granada, Kas., 
 
'Billy'' Dixon^ in His Prime as a Scout and Plainsmcm. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 107 
 
 where building stopped for about a year. 
 Dodge City sprang up like a mushroom. Build- 
 ings went up day and night, and in a month's 
 time the first dozen houses had been increased 
 to a small town. 
 
 Like moths drawn by the flame of a 
 lamp, a picturesque lot of men gathered at 
 Dodge. Practically all of them were looking 
 for adventure and excitement, rather than for 
 opportunities to become preachers, lawyers or 
 merchants. They came from the border towns 
 that dotted like beads that western fringe of 
 civilization. Dodge City belonged mostly to 
 the under-world in those days, and its ways 
 were the ways of men and women who stayed 
 up all night and slept all day. Buffalo-hunt- 
 ers, railroad graders, gamblers, dance hall 
 actors and dancers and that nondescript class 
 that lived without doing any kind of work 
 predominated. But there were good men and 
 women in Dodge, and as in most genuine 
 American communities, they finally won out, 
 despite its revelries and dissipations. The 
 professional gun man that gave Dodge most 
 of its reputation, especially in eastern States, 
 did not ply his business as a business until 
 later years. 
 
 Money was plentiful in those days. Any- 
 body could get money, and there was no 
 
108 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 excuse for being "broke." Business thrived, 
 and some of the stores could supply a man 
 with practically anything he needed. The men 
 of Dodge City spent their money as quickly as 
 they made it, so lots of money was constantly in 
 circulation. Whisky-drinking was a pastime 
 or diversion in which few men did not in- 
 dulge. It was true, however, that some of 
 Dodge City's most famous characters never 
 drank a drop of intoxicating liquors. They 
 did not dare do it. They belonged to the 
 class known as "killers." To get drunk or to 
 drink enough whisky to make the nerves un- 
 steady meant death for such men, as the 
 enemy was always lying in wait for them. 
 
 I cannot boast of having been an alto- 
 gether perfect man in my conduct in those 
 wild, free days, but there was two popular 
 forms of amusement in which I did not in- 
 dulge — dancing and gambling. I never bet a 
 nickel on cards nor gambled in any form in 
 my life though I saw all these things going on 
 every night when I was in a border town, 
 especially at Dodge. Why I did not, rather 
 than the mere fact that I did not dance or 
 gamble, always seemed to me to be of most 
 interest. My only answer would be that this 
 sort of thing did not appeal to me, and this 
 
Adobe Walljs, Texas Panhandle 109 
 
 was sufficient beyond any moral reason for 
 my conduct. 
 
 As a class, the early population of Dodge 
 was free-hearted and would divide the last 
 dollar with a friend or a stranger in dis- 
 tress. The people stood by each other in all 
 emergencies. Nobody thought of locking his 
 door at night. 
 
 When the Santa Fe's construction was 
 stopped at Granada, hundreds of men were 
 thrown out of employment, and found it nec- 
 essary to make some kind of shift for work, 
 or leave the country. Right here is where the 
 rapid extermination of the buffalo began. All 
 of these men who could rustle a team and a 
 wagon and get hold of an outfit went out on 
 the Plains to kill buffalo. During the fall and 
 winter of 1872 and 1873 there were more hunt- 
 ers in the country than ever before or after- 
 wards. This was the beginning of the high 
 tide of buffalo-hunting, and buffalo fell by 
 thousands. More were killed that season than 
 in all subsequent seasons combined. I feel 
 safe in saying that 75,000 buffaloes were 
 killed within 60 or 75 tniles of Dodge City dur- 
 ing that time. The noise of the guns of the 
 hunters could be heard on all sides, rumbling 
 and booming hour after hour, as if a heavy 
 battle were being fought. There was a line 
 
110 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 of camps all the way from Dodge City to 
 Granada. 
 
 During all this time, and since 1871 Jack 
 Callahan and I had worked together. Perkins 
 and Donnelly were still with us. "Cranky" 
 McCabe, his good humor having revived, came 
 back to work for me. A single night at the 
 card table in Dodge City generally wound up 
 McCabe's ball of yarn, and at once he was 
 ready to return to the buffalo range and 
 without complaint. Apparently, there was 
 something he had to get out of his system, and 
 after he had been purged he was ready to 
 resume his old ways. There was not a lazy 
 bone in his body, and I never had a better 
 hand. I was very much attached to Jack Cal- 
 lahan. He was always in good humor, which 
 is a fine quality for a man to have in a hunt- 
 ing camp. A bad temper can spoil the pleas- 
 ure of an entire camp. Some mornings we 
 would sleep late. When the sun got in his 
 eyes, Jack would jump up, exclaiming "By 
 George, this will never do! It will never buy 
 my girl a dress nor pay for the one she has." 
 
 After we had been at Dodge City a few 
 days, taking in the sights, we grew tired of 
 loafing, and decided to strike out and go to 
 new hunting grounds. So we went up the 
 Arkansas River, along the north side, to what 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 111 
 
 was known as Nine Mile Ridge, where we 
 crossed to the south side of the river. 
 
 The increasing numbers and destructive- 
 ness of the bufl'alo-hunters had been making 
 the Plains Indians more and more hostile. 
 The danger to hunters was increasing dav by 
 day. All that region south of the Arkansas 
 was forbidden ground, the Indians insisting 
 that the white men should obey the termsi of 
 the Medicine Lodge treaty. If the killing of 
 the buffaloes should continue unabated, the 
 Indians would soon be facing starvation; at 
 least, their old freedom would be at an end, 
 as they could no longer roam the country at 
 will, confident of finding meat in abundance 
 wherever they might go. 
 
 The Arkansas was called the "dead line," 
 south of which no hunter should go. The 
 river was patrolled at intervals by Govern- 
 ment troops, as a feeble indication that the 
 Medicine Lodge treaty had not been forgotten, 
 but their vigilance was so lax that there was 
 no difficulty in crossing back and forth with- 
 out detection. The danger of attack by In- 
 dians was a far more potent obstacle to the 
 buffalo-hunter, but as buffaloes grew fewer 
 in number and the price of hides advanced, 
 even this did not deter hardy hunters from 
 undertaking forays into the forbidden coun- 
 
112 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 try. The troops were supposed to prevent the 
 passing of the Indians to the north side of the 
 river. This was another scheme that failed to 
 work. 
 
 We gazed longingly across the sandy 
 wastes that marked the course of the Ar- 
 kansas. The oftener we looked the more 
 eager we became to tempt fate. Even the sky 
 looked more inviting in that direction, and 
 often after a flurry of cold weather the wind 
 from the south was mild, balmy and inviting. 
 As a matter of fact, the possible danger of 
 encountering hostile Indians added spice to 
 the temptation. 
 
 So we crossed over. Finding a pleasant 
 stretch of bottom land, where the grass grew 
 tall and thick, we cut and stacked a lot of 
 prairie hay for our teams and saddle horses. 
 The grass waved above our horses' backs as 
 we rode along. Later, we found Indians too 
 numerous in this vicinity for us to devote 
 much time to hunting and we abandoned 
 this camp. 
 
 Before we made the change, however, Cal- 
 lahan and I, both well mounted, and followed 
 by one man in a light wagon, started south- 
 ward on a scouting trip, intending to be gone 
 several days. We wanted to feel out the 
 country and locate the buffalo herds. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 113 
 
 When we reached Crooked Greek; we ran 
 smack into a bunch of Indians, and had a 
 skirmish with them. The Indians could not 
 speak English. This did not prevent our un- 
 derstanding them. Their old chief motioned 
 to us to go northward. That was a long time 
 ago, yet I remember clearly the appearance 
 of this old warrior. Noticeably, fastened un- 
 der the skin of his left cheek he wore a long, 
 brilliant feather. All the warriors were paint- 
 ed red and yellow. We believed, however, 
 that we were able to take care of ourselves, 
 and continued on our way. Further down the 
 creek, we struck another band of hostiles. 
 This was rather too much of the same thing, 
 and we decided that if we valued our scalps 
 we had better pull out. 
 
 We turned round and headed for camp, 
 missing it about three miles in the darkness, 
 and going into camp for the night in the 
 enemy's country. Next morning we got back 
 in safety, and called all hands round to dis- 
 cuss the situation. Plainly, to stay south of 
 the Arkansas meant putting in more time 
 lighting Indians than in hunting buffaloes. 
 
 But buffaloes had begun coming in by 
 thousands, so we agreed to remain two or 
 three days and make as big a kill as possible. 
 Hunting was good, and a week had slipped 
 
 8D 
 
114 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 by. The hides were green, which forced us 
 to linger until they were dry. Not only were 
 hides more easily handled when dry, but they 
 made lighter loads. 
 
 About the ninth day, we found ourselves 
 running short of meat. A bunch of buffaloes 
 were grazing about two miles distant. Mount- 
 ing my horse, I told the boys that I would ride 
 out and kill two good ones for meat. I was 
 so well acquainted with the ways of buffa- 
 loes that I could judge quickly by their ac- 
 tions whether they would run or stand when 
 approached. I saw that these were getting 
 ready to run. 
 
 This fact was a plausible hint that In- 
 dians were moving through the country. My 
 own experience and the testimony of other 
 hunters convinced me that nothing causes 
 greater alarm among buffaloes than the scent 
 or odor of Indians, a peculiarity easily dis- 
 tinguished by a white man's nostrils. When 
 Indian hunting parties went on the buffalo 
 grounds to get their winter's supply of meat, 
 the herds were soon in great commotion, 
 making it difficult for the white hunter to do 
 his killing at a "stand." Strange as it may 
 seem, if there were no Indians moving among 
 the buffaloes, the latter would pay scarcely 
 any attention to white hunters, even though 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 115 
 
 the big buffalo guns were booming from sun- 
 rise to sunset. 
 
 Upon nearing the buffaloes as closely as 
 I thought expedient, I dismounted and began 
 crawling. Picking out a young bull, I turned 
 loose with my big "50" gun. The herd stam- 
 peded at the first crack, and raised such a 
 dust that I could distinguish nothing. I fired 
 as rapidly as 1 could pull the trigger at the 
 indistinguishable mass, and was lucky enough 
 to bring down six or seven before the herd 
 was out of range. 
 
 This fusilade from my gun set things 
 moving in camp, where the boys jumped to 
 the conclusion that I had been attacked by 
 Indians. To add to the excitement a herd of 
 about fifty antelopes appeared on a hill per- 
 haps half a mile from camp. The swiftly run- 
 ning animals would traverse a wide circle and 
 dash again to the top of the hill, where they 
 would stand rigidly attentive gazing in my 
 direction. The excited imagination of the boys 
 in camp soon transformed these harmless crea- 
 tures into mounted Indians. They had not the 
 slightest doubt of my having been killed and 
 scalped, my body left weltering in its own 
 blood, and speared and arrowed until it re- 
 sembled a sieve. 
 
 When I rode into camp a few minutes 
 
116 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 later, I found everything ready for flight and 
 battle. All the fighting guns were convenient- 
 ly at hand, and all the camp equipment was 
 loaded on the wagon. The boys were just at 
 the point of pulling out, but had lingered a 
 moment to debate whether they should try 
 to recover my dead body or whoop her up 
 for Dodge City. 
 
 Jack Callahan was declaring that it would 
 be wrong to go away without being sure that 
 I was dead. While this discussion was under 
 way each man was as busy as a coon in a hen 
 roost. McCabe had been set at work priming 
 a lot of shells, which were already loaded. 
 In his excitement he held the primers in his 
 left hand, asking all the while, "Where in 
 thunder are those primers? I can't find a 
 single one, yet I saw a lot of them only a 
 moment ago. Unless we get these shells 
 primed, w^e'll be in bad shape!" 
 
 McCabe w^as so nervous that the primers 
 rattled in his shaking hand, without his see- 
 ing them. McCabe lived in mortal terror of 
 Indians, though as brave as a lion under 
 all other emergencies,' a peculiarity I have 
 seen in other men on the Plains. The scent 
 or odor of the Indian affected some men as 
 it did certain animals other than the buffalo. 
 All kinds of game seemed to know when an 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 117 
 
 Indian was around. A horse could be safely 
 depended upon to give warning of the near 
 approach of an Indian. I have had my horse 
 run to and fro on his picket rope, manifesting 
 the greatest alarm, apparently without cause, 
 as I could see nothing. I never failed, how- 
 ever, to find later that an Indian had been 
 close by. 
 
 The boys gazed at me in utmost astonish- 
 ment as I rode into camp, safe and sound. 
 They could not believe that I had really re- 
 turned, and began asking me a thousand ques- 
 tions. We laughed over what had hap- 
 pened, each teasing the other about having 
 been "scared out of a year's growth." All 
 save McCabe took the joking in good nature. 
 When the boys began poking fun at him 
 about losing the primers, McCabe slashed on 
 his war paint, and squared off to fight. He 
 shouted that he would fight with bare fists, 
 with a butcher knife or with a gun whoever 
 repeated the story. He would have done as 
 he threatened, but all of us liked him and 
 only laughed at him the more. 
 
 We loaded up with hides next day and 
 pulled out for Dodge City, where we were 
 lucky enough to strike a good market. We 
 had to make three trips to get all the hides, 
 for which we received from $2.50 to $4 a piece 
 
118 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 the highest price we ever received. The full 
 amount was $1,975, but the buyer wrote us a 
 check for the even sum of $2,000, a little mat- 
 ter like $25 being of no moment in those days 
 at Dodge City. 
 
 The weather was now growing much 
 colder, warning us that we should prepare for 
 snow, sleet and howling blizzards. Each 
 man bought himself a supply of warm winter 
 clothing, and with lots of supplies and am- 
 munition, we again went in search of the 
 shaggy buffalo. We went up the Arkansas 
 as far west as the next railroad station, where 
 we hunted a few days, finding buffaloes so 
 scarce that we moved over on the head of 
 South Pawnee. 
 
 I had been over this country the previous 
 v.unter, and knew where there was a splendid 
 spring of water, which I discovered in an 
 unusual manner. On a hot, sultry August 
 day I had left my horse down in the valley, 
 and wandered off on foot after a bunch of 
 buffaloes, going much further than I suspected 
 at the time. Growing very thirsty, I began 
 casting about for signs of water. Crossing the 
 head of a small "draw," I saw a patch of 
 green about a quarter of a mile distant. I 
 hastened toward the spot, and there, to my 
 astonishment, found a spring of clear, sweet 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 119 
 
 water that boiled from a crevice in the rock. 
 In after years I thought many times of the 
 delightful sensation of lying beside that spring 
 and drinking until I could drink no more. 
 While resting, I carved in full my name, 
 "William Dixon," in the soft sandstone rock 
 at the head of the spring. Many years later, 
 when I was living at Plemons, the county seat 
 of Hutcheson county, Texas, I met a land 
 agent who told me that he had seen my 
 name on a rock at the head of a spring in 
 western Kansas. He had no idea that he was 
 talking to the man who carved the name. 
 This man said that the country was thickly 
 settled by prosperous farmers, which seemed 
 incredible when I recalled the days when its 
 principal inhabitants were buffaloes, mus- 
 tangs, Indians and buffalo hunters. 
 
 We shifted camp as soon as the buffaloes 
 began thinning in numbers. Reaching North 
 Pawnee, we went up as far as Walnut Creek, 
 changing our camp as the buffaloes shifted, 
 and finally going back south to Silver Lake, 
 ten miles north of the Arkansas River. This 
 lake was out on the open Plains. 
 
 Here we were struck by another blizzard. 
 There were two outfits camped at Silver Lake. 
 The "norther" struck us with terrific fury, 
 and caught us short of fuel, other than buf- 
 
120 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 falo "chips." I wish here to say something in 
 honor of the buffalo chip. In later years, as 
 the fortunes of the settlers in western Kan- 
 sas improved and their social aspirations grew 
 stronger, there were those who looked askance 
 upon the humble buffalo chip, though they 
 had seen the time when they were devoutly 
 grateful for the genial warmth that spread 
 from its glowing fire. It was the friend and 
 benefactor of countless hunters and settlers in 
 hours of need and extremity. The buffalo 
 chip was simply the dry dung of the buffalo, 
 purely vegetable, and made an excellent fire, 
 over which coffee could be boiled and meat 
 fried to a turn. When dry the buffalo chip 
 caught the flame easily, and soon burned to 
 a dull red. Many a dark night have I looked 
 with gladness at the distant buffalo chip fire, 
 knowing that around it I would find hospit- 
 able companions and lots of warmth. 
 
 There was a big scramble to make snug 
 when the norther hit us. As soon as it broke, 
 we tied buffalo hides to the wagons to form 
 a shelter for our horses, but the wind was 
 so strong that it tore down the hides and 
 carried them rattling and bounding across the 
 Plains. Worst of all, the gale blew all the 
 lire out of our camp stoves. We were forced 
 to go to bed to keep from freezing to death. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 121 
 
 and we remained wrapped in our blankets 
 under our buffalo robes until next day. 
 
 1 am sure that in these later years we do 
 not have the sudden blizzards, such as swept 
 howling from the north in those early days, 
 which is fortunate, as they would cause un- 
 told suft'ering to people and livestock. 
 
 The weather had moderated by next day, 
 and we went in search of our stock, which we 
 found at John O'Loughlin's road-ranch, twelve 
 miles south of Silver Lake. As there was 
 snow on the ground and it was difficult to 
 find fuel, even buffalo chips, we decided to 
 stay at O'Loughlin's place until the weather 
 settled. Other hunters were in the same 
 plight as ourselves, and they too came drifting 
 in to O'Loughlin's. We were a jolly crowd. 
 What sport we had, telling stories of our 
 hunts, drinking whisky, playing cards and 
 shooting at targets. I was especially fond of 
 the latter. 
 
 In such a gathering there were always 
 mischievous fellows forever scheming to play 
 jokes and pranks upon their companions. 
 While at O'Loughlin's a sham duel, one of the 
 funniest things I ever saw, was pulled off. 
 
 Among the hunters was a young fellow 
 who was continually stirring up trouble by 
 quarreling. At O'Loughlin's he began im- 
 
122 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 posing upon a quiet, peaceable man who never 
 bothered anybody. The boys persuaded him 
 to challenge the bully to fight a duel, telling 
 him they would load the bully's gun with 
 blank cartridges. The arrangements were 
 soon made. The bully was willing to fight — 
 at least he seemed to be. He was the only 
 man in camp that did not know that the 
 affair was a "frame up." The seconds were 
 chosen, and the time and place of the meeting 
 fixed. The weapons were to be six-shooters, 
 at fifteen steps. 
 
 The buffalo hunters lined up to see the 
 fight. The quiet fellow was to shoot over the 
 bully's head, but close enough for him to 
 hear the whistle of the bullet. At the 
 command of "fire" both pistols cracked, but 
 nobody was hit. The bully winced a bit at 
 the sound of the bullet as it passed over his 
 head. He soon went locoed, and became so 
 badly frightened that he could hardly stand. 
 His knees knocked together, and he trembled 
 like a wet dog on a cold day. Before the 
 second encounter could take place, the bully 
 squawked, saying that he had enough. He was 
 teased and rawhided until he left camp, and 
 pulled out for pleasanter surroundings. 
 
 As soon as the weather grew warmer, 
 the hunters went to their camps. We returned 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 123 
 
 to Silver Lake, but not finding buffaloes plen- 
 tiful enough to make hunting profitable, we 
 went over on what was known as White 
 Woman's Fork, usually a dry stream, with 
 water only in the rainy season. At this time 
 the melting snow had formed pools. White 
 Woman's Fork is between the Arkansas and 
 the Smoky Hill. 
 
 Buffaloes were so scarce that we followed 
 White Woman's Fork to its head and there 
 went over to the brakes of the Smoky Hill, 
 and from there we pulled to Sand Creek, in 
 Colorado. While on Sand Creek we camped 
 one night where the Chivington massacre of 
 Cheyenne Indians took place in the 60's. Chiv- 
 ington was in comlmand of a force of Colorado 
 troops, and took the Indians wholly by sur- 
 prise. Among the Indians was Black Kettle's 
 band of Cheyennes, afterwards destroyed by 
 General Custer on the Washita in Southwest- 
 ern Oklahoma. Chivington gave orders to 
 kill everything that looked like an Indian — 
 women and children, old and young — and his 
 command was obeyed with utmost cruelty. 
 We could see bones still scattered over the 
 battleground. 
 
 Our hunt for buffaloes was proving to 
 be a kind of wild goose chase. We had made 
 a complete circle, without finding them in 
 
124 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 sufficient numbers to warrant our hunting in 
 any one place. We went back down the Ar- 
 kansas until we reached Lakin, Kansas, where 
 we stayed eight or ten days gathering up 
 the hides we had left at different places. We 
 hauled them to Dodge City. 
 
 By this time the spring of 1873 was at 
 hand. Callahan and I dissolved partnership, 
 as Callahan wanted to go into the saloon 
 business at Granada, Colorado. He lived there 
 until General Miles started from Fort Dodge 
 in 1874—0^1 his campaign against the south- 
 west Plains Indians. Callahan went along as 
 wagon master. 
 
 I did not have enough of the buffalo 
 game, however, and after going back to my 
 old camp on Pawnee Fork, I crossed the Ar- 
 kansas in May, 1873, and went up the river 
 to what was known as Allberry Crossing, on 
 the old Santa Fe trail. Here we camped and 
 explored the country, but failed to find many 
 buffaloes, and began working south toward 
 the Cimarron — toward the forbidden and dan- 
 gerous land. We struck the Cimarron at what 
 was known as Wagonbed Springs, southwest 
 of Dodge. At that time the Cimarron Biver 
 was called the dead line. Few hunters had 
 gone south of the Arkansas. Many who had 
 been hunting around Dodge in 1872 and 1873 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 125 
 
 had abandoned the hide business, because of 
 Ihe diminishing number of buffaloes, and for 
 the better reason that they did not wish to 
 follow the main herd into the Indian country. 
 
 Ranging between the Arkansas and the 
 Cimarron in the summer of 1873, we worked 
 west as far as the Beaver, in Stanton Coun- 
 ty, Kansas. We prospered, as buffaloes were 
 plentiful. Our hides were hauled to Granada, 
 on the Colorado line. 
 
 Along in the fall we went to Dodge and 
 loaded up with supplies for an expedition 
 even further south. We struck Crooked 
 Creek and finally the Cimarron, ten miles be- 
 low Wagonbed Springs, where we planned to 
 stay during the winter, and built a dugout. 
 Buffaloes were everywhere, but like the leaves 
 of the winter forest — disappearing never to 
 return. 
 
 While in camp at this place we saw a 
 spectacular sight. A big war party of Chey- 
 ennes passed on their way to fight the Utes. 
 The latter lived in Colorado. The Cheyennes 
 were out for blood. Their horses were in 
 fine shape, and each warrior was fully equip- 
 ped with weapons. We learned that the Utes 
 had long been in the habit of coming down 
 to the buffalo country every fall to kill their 
 winter's supply of meat. The Cheyennes, 
 
126 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 proud and arrogant, were opposed to this in- 
 vasion of their hunting grounds by the moun- 
 tain Indians and had decided to make an 
 end of it if possible. Much has been written 
 about the desperate warfare and the bloody 
 battles between Indians and wliite men. I 
 am rather of the opinion that war between 
 Indian tribes was even worse. They fought 
 to exterminate each other if possible. 
 
 This expedition of Gheyennes was divided 
 into many small parties- — three or four war- 
 riors traveling together. We had heard of 
 their attacking other buffalo hunters, and run- 
 ning off their stock. We kept both eyes open, 
 day and night. Frequently, these Indians 
 would stop at our camp, to which we offered 
 no objection if there were only a few in the 
 party, but if fifteen or twenty came in sight, 
 heading toward our camp, we signalled for 
 them to pass around without stopping. We 
 did not dare run the risk of letting a superior 
 force of Indians get at close quarters under 
 the guise of friendship, as soon every hunt- 
 er's scalp would have been dangling on the 
 Cheyenne bridles. Occasionally, upon ap- 
 proaching, the Gheyennes would lay down 
 their guns, and advance unarmed, to show 
 that they did not intend to offer us injury. 
 We always fed them well. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 127 
 
 About fifteen warriors came into camp one 
 day, and were soon greatly interested in a 
 pair of field glasses that I used in looking 
 over the country for landmarks, buffaloes 
 and Indians. After letting our visitors look 
 through them, I laid the glasses on a 
 pile of bedding and thought no more about 
 them. After the Indians had ridden away, I 
 reached for the glasses to look over a bunch 
 of Indians that had assembled on a hill a 
 mile or so distant. The glasses had disap- 
 peared. 
 
 I was fighting mad, and determined to 
 get my glasses or kill an Indian or two. 
 Seizing my buffalo gun and mounting my best 
 horse, I started in pursuit of the thieves. 
 The rascals suspected my purpose, and long 
 before I got within shooting range they scat- 
 tered like quail and hid themselves. The 
 country was rough and broken and I found 
 it decidedly too dangerous to attempt to hunt 
 them out. 
 
 In approaching our camp, it had been 
 the practice of the Cheyennes to come with 
 their horses running at headlong speed, pos- 
 sibly to "throw a scare" into the white men. 
 We at once set our heads against this sort 
 of thing, and soon convinced the Indians that 
 

 
 mmm 
 
 1 •/ ^<^^ ^HP^^^S^H 
 
 '^^'-w ' "^ 
 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 129 
 
 we would fire into them if the practice were 
 repeated. 
 
 All these Cheyennes were rigged out in 
 full war style. Each had a led horse, his 
 war horse, which was the Indian's pride, and 
 which he loved above his other possessions. 
 He gave his war horse the best of care, and 
 kept him expressly for battle. 
 
 The detachments of this big Cheyenne 
 war party were about three days passing our 
 camp, and during that time we remained 
 close at home. One of us constantly stood 
 guard on a high point close by. There was 
 smell of Indian in the air. Our horses were 
 picketed during the day, and at night we tied 
 them to the wagons. There were only four 
 of us, and we could not afford to make the 
 slightest mistake. 
 
 After the country was clear of Indians, 
 we made a trip over on Sharpens Creek, but 
 found no buffaloes — the passing of the Indians 
 had scared the buffaloes out of their wits. If 
 the buffaloes would not come to us, we would 
 go to the buffaloes, so we shifted camp from 
 the Cimarron down to the Beaver, in *No 
 Man's Land." 
 
 Making short drives each day, to spy out 
 the country, we got as far west as the pres- 
 ent town of Guymon, Okla., where we camped 
 
 9D 
 
130 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 several days to clean up several scattering 
 bunches of buffaloes, all bulls. These old 
 bulls were easily killed, and their hides 
 brought the best prices. 
 
 Here we met some of the same Ghey- 
 ennes that had passed our camp on the Cim- 
 arron. They were on their way back home 
 to Indian Territory. They recognized us. I 
 had acquired some knowledge of the Chey- 
 enne language, and questioned them about 
 their trip to the Ute country. It was funny 
 to hear them tell how they had "run the 
 Utes clean over the mountains." They 
 claimed they had killed stacks and stacks of 
 Utes, going through the motions of how the 
 Utes ran in getting away from the Cheyennes. 
 
 After making a kill of buffaloes, the 
 hides were always left on the ground to dry, 
 before hauling them to market. We had 
 left a big lot of hides and provisions at 
 our Cimarron camp. The passing of the 
 Indians on their way back home made us 
 feel that it might be well to see what the 
 situation was ' in our old camp.. We ex- 
 pected to find all our hides gone and our 
 provisions stolen; to our great surprise we 
 found everything just as we had left it. The 
 plains Indians were highly suspicious, and 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 131 
 
 it is possible that they feared the provisions 
 might be poisoned. 
 
 The thinning out of the buffaloes made 
 hunting laborious. Riding out early one 
 morning, I managed to kill about thirty dur- 
 ing the day's hunt, all of them cows. It was 
 a strange fact that buffalo cows and bulls 
 ranged together only during the breeding 
 season; at other times they went in separate 
 bunches. 
 
 Next morning we went out to do our 
 skinning. Having run short of meat, I had 
 drawn several of the carcasses, and was so 
 busily engaged that I did not notice what 
 was going on around me. 
 
 The day was warm, with the wind in 
 the south. Then the wind died until there 
 was perfect calm for about fifteen minutes. 
 Suddenly, our attention was drawn to the 
 unusual appearance of the sandhills to the 
 north of us, along the river. We could see 
 a fog of dust and sand, which struck us in 
 a shorter time than it takes to tell it. We 
 were caught in the jaws of a norther, the 
 terror of the Plainsman. All animals seem 
 to know instinctively when a norther is 
 coming, and grow nervous and restless. 
 
 It is difficult to see or to breathe when 
 a norther is at its height, and unless good 
 
132 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 shelter is near at hand there is danger of 
 quickly freezing to death. We were wise 
 enough to know that the best thing for us 
 to do would be to get back to camp as quick- 
 ly as possible. Tossing our meat into the 
 wagon, we jumped in and headed for cam]) 
 with our mules at a gallop. On my horse I 
 rode beside the mules, urging them along 
 with my quirt. Despite our instant flight and 
 our speed, we were nearly frozen when we 
 arrived at camp. 
 
 These winter storms usually exhausted 
 themselves at the end of two or three days, 
 but while they are raging it is impossible to 
 leave camp with safety. 
 
 After we had thawed out, we decided to 
 tackle the Beaver country again, and went 
 up that stream to a place then known as 
 Company M, where we struck off" in a south- 
 westerly direction and came to the Cold- 
 water, which further toward its source is 
 known as the Al Frio, which means "cold 
 water," and undoubtedly was named by the 
 Mexicans who used to hunt in that region. 
 The favorite weapon of these Mexicans was 
 the lance, which necessarily brought them at 
 close quarters with the buffaloes, and re- 
 quired swift horses. 
 
 The Coldwater takes its rise from a num- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 133 
 
 her of springs which form a series of re- 
 markable pools of water. At this place after- 
 wards was built one of the headquarters of 
 the old XIT Ranch outfit. The buildings 
 stand today as they did in earlier years, but 
 the phase of life that dwelt there has van- 
 ished forever. When the XIT established it- 
 self in the Texas Panhandle, the cowboy was 
 typical, genuine and picturesque. He was the 
 cock of the walk, who could eat centipedes 
 for breakfast and barbed wire for supper 
 without injuring his digestion, and dance all 
 night and ride all day without missing a step. 
 His like will never be seen again. He had 
 i\ rough hide and a tender heart, and an ear 
 that was inclined to every hard luck story 
 that passed his way. 
 
 Buffalo Springs stands in the open Plains 
 south of the Beaver and just south of the line 
 that divides the Texas Panhandle from Cim- 
 arron County, Oklahoma. Here is a consid- 
 erable growth of timber, consisting of cot- 
 tenwoods, elms and willows. The traveler 
 will go many, many weary miles south be- 
 fore he again sees a clump of timber of finds 
 living water. 
 
 The beginning of the Al Frio is a spring 
 near a lone cottonwood tree about a mile 
 west of the ranch house. The water rises in 
 
134 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 a fissure in the rock. Some rather fabu- 
 lous stories have been told about its depth. 
 Now follow a chain of deep pools of dark 
 and steely clearness, chillingly cold even in 
 hottest midsummer, with steep, precipitous 
 banks, along which waves a dense and al- 
 most impenetrable growth of reeds and tall, 
 wiry grass. Here abound bass in such size 
 and numbers as to tempt the most expert 
 angler. 
 
 Buffalo Springs is a veritable garden in 
 the dry and dusty Plains, an oasis in the des- 
 ert. Countless birds not found elsewhere on 
 the Plains assemble here in summer, beauti- 
 fying with song and bright plumage all the 
 green, cool places. Flowers of exquisite 
 fragrance and great brilliancy of color are 
 found. There are many varieties. In fall 
 and spring, migratory water- fowl descend to 
 disport themselves in the pools. 
 
 The ranch house, which still remains in 
 excellent condition, was such a house as ap- 
 pealed to a man seeking shelter from winter 
 storms or summer heat. Its original walls of 
 adobe were boxed and plastered, giving them 
 a thickness of nearly two feet. On its dirt 
 floors jangled many a spur. At the kitchen 
 door hangs the triangle gong with which the 
 cook called the "woollies" to meals. Struck 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 135 
 
 with its heavy bar of iron, this old gong 
 booms and rumbles until it can be heard 
 far out on the Plains. Each of its sides 
 measured more than two feet. 
 
 When this region was wild and unin- 
 habited, these springs were frequented by 
 buffaloes in enormous numbers, crowding 
 and fighting their way to water. In the 
 neighborhood of the pools w^ere treacherous 
 bogs which at this day are a menace to live 
 stock. In the old days buffaloes must have 
 mired there by hundreds. 
 
 Here the Indians encountered this noble 
 game to their liking. A mile or two east of 
 the springs, there is a) slight swell in the Plains 
 where the Comanches are said to have main- 
 tained their hunting camp when in that vi- 
 cinity. From this camp the Plains could be 
 surveyed for miles in every direction. Mount- 
 ing their horses, the Indian hunters descended 
 like thunderbolts upon the buffaloes massed 
 at the springs, and slaughtered them at will. 
 The hides were pegged down and dried in 
 camp and the meat hung on poles and cured 
 in the dry, pure air for winter use. A kill 
 could be made as often as the red hunters 
 wished to rush to the attack. 
 
 This account of the history of Buffalo 
 Springs has been given by Mr. John Skelley, 
 
136 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 one of the rugged and reliable pioneers of 
 Cimarron county; he lives at the postofTice of 
 Wheeless : 
 
 "I was at Bufi'alo Springs as early as 
 1878, when I was a boy 14 years old. At that 
 time there were no buildings. There had 
 been some adobes made, either by Bill Hall, 
 of Kansas City, or Dan Taylor of Trinidad, or 
 both, in order to build a house to shelter 
 their winter line-riders, as a line-camp was 
 kept at the Springs every winter. My father 
 was a freighter at Trinidad, where I was 
 raised, and he hauled the lumber down to 
 Buffalo Springs from Trinidad, to cover and 
 floor the house. I made the trip with him. 
 This was in 1878. 
 
 "The house was never built, as the fall 
 and winter of '78 were so cold and severe 
 that the line-riders burned all the lumber for 
 wood. The nearest timber was on the Cur- 
 rumpaw or Beaver, about eight or ten miles 
 northwest of the Springs, where there are 
 still a few stunted cedars and a growth of 
 cottonwoods. 
 
 "In 1884 the Capitol Freehold Land & 
 Cattle Syndicate established a ranch at Buf- 
 falo Springs. This company is the one that 
 built the capitol at Austin, Texas, for 
 which it was paid in millions of acres of 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 137 
 
 land. This ranch was stocked with cattle. 
 I worked for the man who had the fence 
 contract. We finished the contract in De- 
 cember, 1885. 
 
 "During that year the owners had put 
 in about 20,000 head of cattle, brought from 
 the south. Better grass could not be found 
 anywhere. A few mustangs and buffaloes 
 were still left in the country, but disappeared 
 from that vicinity in 1887. Stragglers could 
 be found around Company M water as late 
 as 1889. This water was six or eight miles 
 southeast of the present town of Boise City, 
 the county seat of Cimarron county, Okla- 
 homa. 
 
 "In the fall of 1885 a big prairie fire 
 broke out and swept the country bare from 
 the Beaver south almost to the South Can- 
 adian. We fought it with all our strength, 
 but there were not men enough in the coun- 
 ttry to get it under control. This misfortune 
 was followed by an early and severe winter. 
 The company at Buffalo Springs drifted its 
 herds out to the Canadian and to the south 
 Plains, yet despite every precaution the loss 
 was tremendous. I was told that only 7,000 
 head of tthe 20,000 were gathered the follow- 
 ing spring. 
 
 "The company did not jump the game, 
 
138 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 but went ahead next year. Old man Boise, 
 who was killed by Sneed, was general man- 
 ager of the company for a good many years, 
 and built up a fine ranch. A man named 
 Campbell was the first manager at Buffalo 
 Springs, followed by an Englishman named 
 Maud. After these came Boise, who took the 
 outfit about 1890. 
 
 "The timber that is growing at Buffalo 
 Springs was planted by the company, and is 
 not a natural growth. I know of no natural 
 timber south of there until thte Canadian is 
 reached, though the company has set out sev- 
 eral tracts in timber, and there is now lots 
 of water in wells on their holdings between 
 Buffalo Springs and the Canadian. 
 
 "In the old days when we left Buffalo 
 Springs and traveled southeast we found no 
 live water until we got to the head of the 
 Rita Blanco, about fifty miles distant, and 
 ten or twelve miles southeast of the present 
 town of Delhart. There was and still is wat- 
 er at what we used to call the Perico water- 
 holes, some 10 or 12 miles south of the Ranch, 
 but this water has neither source nor outlet, 
 as it rises and then sinks again, the Perico 
 gradually vanishing in the Plains. 
 
 "The Springs was a great hunting ground 
 for buffaloes. In the fall of 1878 the valley 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 139 
 
 was alive with buffaloes and mustangs, and 
 when I was there in that year I saw several 
 hunters' camps. A long time ago I talked to 
 old Mexicans who told me that they hunted 
 buffaloes at the Springs when they were boys. 
 They said that expeditions of both Mexicans 
 and Navajoes came from the settlements on 
 the Rio Grande, in New Mexico, to procure 
 their winter's meat. 
 
 "There was an old trail leading to the 
 Springs from New Mexico, thence to Agua 
 Frio, and on down through the country to 
 the eastward. We used to call this the 'old 
 buffalo trail.' I have not seen it in more than 
 twenty-five years, but am told that it has be- 
 come so overgrown with grass that it has 
 almost disappeared. When I was there as a 
 boy there were thousands of antelope on the 
 Plains; now most of them are gone. The 
 Fort Worth & Denver City railroad company 
 began running its trains through the com- 
 pany's big estate in the spring of 1888, which 
 hastened the disappearance of the game." 
 
 We camped over night at Buffalo Springs, 
 and next day followed the Al Frio or Cold- 
 water, which is a dry stream with occasional 
 water holes. After proceeding about thirty 
 miles, we saw that the stream was bearing 
 too far to the north, so we turned south and 
 
140 Life of "Billy" Dixqn 
 
 struck the brakes of the Big Blue, a tribu- 
 tary of the South Canadian. This was a 
 new country to all of us, and as strange to 
 us as if we were its first visitors. We came 
 to a pool that was alive with all kinds of 
 fish, and in all directions deer and wild 
 turkeys seemed as thick as grasshoppers. 
 With a whoop, everybody voted unanimously 
 to go into camp at this place. 
 
 As a fisherman I never had any luck. 
 Leaving this sport to the rest of the outfit, 1 
 mounted my horse, and set out to explore 
 the surrounding country. In roaming around, 
 I reached an abandoned Mexican camp on 
 one of the prongs of the Blue. It had been 
 untenanted for years. I was told by older 
 hunters that the Mexicans used to come here 
 every fall to kill buffaloes, bringing pack 
 trains. They remained until they got a win- 
 ter's supply of meat, drying the meat and 
 rendering the tallow. 
 
 I rejoined the outfit and we kept moving 
 until we reached the South Canadian, cross- 
 ing this stream at a point near where the 
 LX Banch was afterwards located. Further 
 south, we struck Palo Duro Canyon below the 
 waterfalls. This was a dry stream, and we 
 were compelled to rely upon melted snow for 
 ourselves and stock. We crossed Mulberrv 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 141 
 
 Greek at its head waters, and camped there 
 several days. 
 
 After crossing the Canadian, we began 
 seeing signs of Mexican hunters, the spots 
 where they had camped the preceding fall 
 being plainly visible. Shifting our course 
 more to the northeast, we crossed the head 
 tributaries of Salt Fork and North Fork of 
 Red River, coming back to the Canadian 
 about twenty miles above where Canadian 
 City, Texas, now stands. 
 
 During all this wandering we had not 
 seen a white man, nor a human being of any 
 kind — only a vast wilderness, inhabited by 
 game — truly the hunter's paradise. When we 
 saw Red River we thought that it certainly 
 must be the South Canadian, being misled by 
 the fact that both were sandy streams and 
 both dry at that time. We could see a differ- 
 ence between the two, however, when we got 
 to the Canadian. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TJ UGGING the south side of the Canadian, 
 -*■ -^ we followed an old trail, called the Fort 
 Smith and Fort Bascom trail, up to White 
 Deer Creek, a beautiful, clear-running stream, 
 fringed abundantly with timber. Right op- 
 posite the mouth of this stream, on the north 
 side of the Canadian, are the old ruins of 
 the original Adobe Walls, though at the time 
 we were ignorant of this fact, and passed 
 without halting at this historic place. 
 
 Crossing to the north side of the Can- 
 adian, we reached Moore's Creek, and were 
 delighted to find that all along the Canadian, 
 every four or five miles, were running streams 
 of fine water. All the streams were timbered, 
 ^;ome more heavily than others, and in the 
 branches of the tall cottonwoods wild tur- 
 keys roosted by thousands, while deer and 
 antelopes in great herds grazed in the grassy 
 bottoms 
 
 On Bugbee Creek we passed a camp 
 where a white man named Wheeler had been 
 killed that fall (1873) by Indians. The brush 
 along the creeks was alive with quail, and 
 we could see signs of fur animals, such as 
 beaver, mink and otter. I was now going 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 143 
 
 over ground that I should see again, but lit- 
 tle did I dream of what the future would 
 be. 
 
 We left the river at Moore's Greek, and 
 went north until we struck the Palo Duro 
 again, below where we had crossed it on our 
 way down. Here we found quite a number 
 of buffalo hunters camped for the winter. 
 
 Our object in making this trip was to 
 locate a good buffalo range for the following 
 summer. Our reason for going at this time 
 of year was that there would be less danger 
 of being molested by Indians, as the latter 
 did not travel in winter, if they could avoid it, 
 preferring the idleness and pleasure of a 
 warm winter camp, well supplied with buffa- 
 lo meat. Occasionally, however, a party of 
 young bucks, thirsty for glory in taking scalps, 
 would brave the cold weather and make a 
 raid. After lying around camp with the boys 
 on the Palo Duro for several days, we headed 
 for our old camp on the Cimarron, where we 
 found ourselves short of supplies, and con- 
 tinued on to Dodge City. 
 
 In making this big circle to Buffalo 
 Springs, Red River, the ruins of Adobe Walls 
 and back to Dodge City, we saw very few 
 buffaloes; only now and then would we run 
 across a bunch of old bulls. However, there 
 
144 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 were signs everywhere showing where thous- 
 ands had been herding together, and w^e felt 
 certain that they would come back to their 
 old range in the spring. 
 
 It was sometime in February, 1874, when 
 we got back to Dodge. We had seen enough 
 to satisfy us that the thing to do would be 
 to go down on the Canadian as soon as the 
 weather settled. While waiting, we went out 
 northwest of Dodge on my old hunting 
 grounds. This was the last hunting I ever did 
 north of the Arkansas. My face was set to- 
 ward the forbidden country, where the In- 
 dians were looking for the scalps of white 
 men. 
 
 In the latter part of March, 1874, I went 
 into Dodge City, and there I met up with a 
 lot of buffalo hunters who had come to town 
 to get away from the lonesomeness, and have 
 good time. There was lots of talk about the 
 increasing scarcity of buffaloes on the old 
 range, and all of us agreed that we would 
 have to drift further south to make buftalo- 
 hunting a paying business. 
 
 Those of us who had been venturing 
 down in the Panhandle country described 
 what we had seen, and gave our opinion of 
 the region as a buffalo range, whicl), cf 
 course, was favorable. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 145 
 
 In Dodge City at this time was a man 
 named A. G. Myers, in the general merchan- 
 dise business, who had once been a buffalo- 
 hunter, and had built a smoke-house on 
 Pawnee Fork, where he cured buffalo hams 
 for eastern markets. The meat was prepared 
 for smoking by taking the two hind quarters 
 and dividing each into three chunks, which 
 made six pieces of boneless meat, about the 
 size of an ordinary pork ham. Myers sugar- 
 cured each piece, smoked it, and sewed it in 
 canvas. This kind of buffalo meat was the 
 choicest, and commanded a high price on the 
 market. Only a few dealers cured their meat 
 in this way. 
 
 All the hunters assembled at Dodge were 
 convinced that never again would there be a 
 big run of buffaloes that far north, because 
 of the enormous slaughter on that part of 
 their range in 1872 and 1873. Our determina- 
 tion to drift south was opposed some- 
 somewhat by the handicap of being so far 
 from a hide market. Myers solved this ques- 
 tion by deciding to take his outfit and stock 
 of merchandise and pull down into the good 
 buffalo country, somewhere on the Canadian. 
 We had no definite point in view, expecting 
 to locate our camp where grass, timber, wat- 
 er and buffaloes most abounded. 
 
 lOD 
 
146 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Myers was quick to see that a big de- 
 cline in the buttalo trade at Dodge was at 
 hand, and was willing to take the risk of 
 going with us to get our trade. We did not 
 think much about it at the time, but had we 
 calmly discussed what was ahead of us, all 
 would have seen that the undertaking was 
 not without peril to life. We were leaving 
 such protection as there was in the garrisoned 
 country and plunging into a solitude through 
 which we would have to fight our way, if at- 
 tacked, or die at the hands of hostile Indians, 
 an enemy that inflicted the most horrible 
 forms of death imaginable, should the victim 
 be captured alive. There would be no getting 
 away by making a fast run to Fort Dodge or 
 Fort Hays; it meant fighting to the last ditch, 
 and victory to the strong. 
 
 Myers' plan was that every hunter that 
 wanted to go should load his wagons with 
 supplies, such as were used on the buffalo 
 range, for which Myers would pay a liberal 
 freight rate, and upon establishing permanent 
 camp Myers would sell the supplies to the 
 hunters at Dodge City prices. This seemed 
 fair enough. Myers owned two teams and 
 wagons. The organizing of this expedition 
 caused much enthusiasm among the hunters 
 at Dodge, and many wanted to go along. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 147 
 
 About this time James Hanrahan, a typi- 
 cal frontiersman, who hunted buffaloes on a 
 large scale, came to town. Hearing of the 
 trip we were planning, Hanrahan decided to 
 take his whole outfit and go with us. This 
 was a good boost, as we were delighted to 
 welcome every new-comer, especially a man 
 like Hanrahan, who had lots of nerve and 
 knew all the ins and outs of frontier life. 
 
 Soon every man was busily engaged in 
 gathering his equipment for the long trip to 
 the new country. There were many things 
 to do, and forgot any necessary part of an 
 outfit would cause annoyance and trouble, as 
 we would be far from a railroad.. We had 
 no idea when w^e would get back to civiliza- 
 tion. A lot of fellows at Dodge thought that 
 maybe we might never get back. They nar- 
 rowly missed making a good guess. 
 
 Three or four days before we were ready 
 to bid farewell to Dodge, there came from 
 the east a stranger named Fairchild — his first 
 trip to this rendezvous of the buffalo-hunter, 
 the bull-whacker and the "bad" man. Natur- 
 ally, Fairchild was regarded as a "tender- 
 foot." 
 
 Fairchild was wildly ambitious to plunge 
 head over heels into the stormy life of the 
 frontier. When he heard of our expedition, 
 
148 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 he shouted for joy, and made arrangements 
 to go along. 
 
 My first glimpse of Fairchild made me^ 
 finger my sights, for he certainly looked like 
 game. He was arrayed in a shining broad- 
 cloth suit, a "plug" hat, a flower-bed vest,, 
 and a cravat that resembled a Rocky Mountain 
 sunset. That he might behold the sights of 
 Dodge in proper fashion, he had hired a 
 livery horse, equipped with a "muley" sad- 
 dle, and was riding up and down the streets, 
 as if he owned the whole town. His get-up 
 was so unusual in Dodge that it caused much 
 talk and laughter. 
 
 If the raiment of the East was imposing 
 and spectacular, that of the West was far 
 more overpowering when assembled by a man 
 like Fairchild. The day before we pulled out 
 I saw him again, but hardly knew him. He 
 had jumped from the extreme East to the 
 extreme West, and at a single bound. He 
 was attired in a hangup brown ducking suit, 
 high-heeled boots, and spurs that rolled along 
 like cart-wheels. His white sombrero was 
 wide enough for an umbrella. Round his 
 neck was a bandana more brilliant than a 
 Cheyenne pony pain)ted for the warpath. 
 His belt was full of cartridges, and sticking 
 from holster and scabbard were a six-shooter 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 149 
 
 and a butcher knife, fearful and murderous- 
 looking weapons. In his hands, with the 
 air of a gay cavalier, he bore a big "50" 
 rifle, for which he had paid the considerable 
 sum of $85. The boys had primed him to 
 buy the butcher knife in the belief that he 
 needed something of the kind to scalp In- 
 dians when he slew them far, far from their 
 homes in the forest. 
 
 There was every indication that Fair- 
 child was well supplied with money. He 
 came from Illinois and belonged to a good 
 family, was well educated, and had been ad- 
 mitted to the bar. But he yearned for west- 
 ern adventure, and abandoned his profession 
 to satisfy his chief and burning ambition. 
 It was impossible that such a man could 
 escape ceaseless banter in a crowd like ours. 
 
 However, Fairchild was not more de- 
 lighted than myself when the day of depar- 
 ture came. In scouting the country, I had 
 seen that big money could be made by a 
 good hunter. I was not without confidence 
 in my marksmanship. When we moved out 
 of Dodge there were about fifty men and 
 thirty wagons. Each man had provided him- 
 self with a saddle horse. I was never with- 
 out one — the best that money could buy in 
 that country. 
 
150 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 All the wagons were heavily loaded, 
 which compelled us to drive at easy stages. 
 We got to Crooked Creek the first day out 
 of Dodge. There was never a happier lot 
 of men in the world. All were in rugged 
 health, none in need, most of them inured 
 to the hardships of life in the wilderness, 
 each confident that he could take care of 
 himself, sure of the help of his comrades in 
 any emergency, and everybody as merry and 
 jolly as could be. If there was care of 
 any kind, it was too light to be felt. We ate 
 like wolves, and could have digested a dry 
 buffalo hide with the hair on. Spring was 
 on the way, and the air was light and bouy- 
 ant, making the days and nights an endless 
 delight. 
 
 The youngest of our party was "Bat" 
 Masterson, who was to win a reputation not 
 only as a member of this expedition, but in 
 many other places in later years. It seems 
 remarkable that finally Masterson should 
 wander as far east as New York City and 
 become a newspaper writer. He was a chunk 
 of steel, and anything that struck him in 
 those days always drew fire. In age, I was 
 perhaps next to Masterson, being now in my 
 twenty-fourth year. 
 
 Best of all was when we camped at night. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 151 
 
 when there would be singing, dancing, music 
 and telling of tales. In the party were a 
 number of veterans of the Civil War, with 
 endless stories of desperate battles that were 
 greatly to our liking. After we had eaten 
 heartily, and the camp-fire was aglow and 
 crackling under the stars, some fellow would 
 stretch and peg down a dry buffalo hide on 
 which the men would dance turn about or 
 in couples. The hide gave a much better 
 footing for dancing than might be supposed, 
 and was stiff enough and hard enough to 
 respond in the liveliest way to jigging. There 
 were always fiddlers in a crowd like ours, 
 perhaps an accordeon, and a dozen fellows 
 who could play the French harp. The scene 
 was picturesque and pleasing. Round us 
 rolled the interminable Plains, arched by the 
 glittering sky, and in the fire-light the rollick- 
 ing buffalo hunters sang and danced. There 
 were no night sounds in this vast silence, 
 save those of our camp or the yelping of 
 coyotes and howling of wolves, disturbed by 
 this strange invasion of their prowling 
 ground. 
 
 It was agreed that every man in the par- 
 ty should do something for the entertainment 
 of his companions at these gatherings round 
 the camp-fire — dance, sing a song or tell a 
 
152 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 story. There was no dodging, we had to 
 come across. As I never danced, wasn't 
 much of a talker, and couldn't possibly sing, 
 all this was hard on me. I did my best, 
 however, even trying to learn to play a fiddle, 
 which had been given to me by a friend at 
 Hays City. But there was no music in me — 
 I couldn't scratch out "Dan Tucker." Long 
 afterwards, when I was married and my old- 
 est daughter developed a talent for music, I 
 was greatly pleased, though aware of the 
 fact that she had inherited none of it from 
 me. 
 
 Drinking in the pure fresh air of the 
 Plains, we rolled from our blankets every 
 morning, clear-headed and ready for any en- 
 terprise. Just to feel one's self living in that 
 country was a joy. We heard nothing and 
 cared nothing about politics; it made little 
 difference to us who was president of the 
 United States; we worked hard, had enough 
 money for our common needs, and were hap- 
 py, happier perhaps that we ever were in 
 later years. Youth probably had much to 
 do with our contentment. 
 
 The second day's travel brought us to the 
 Cimarron River, and here we stopped at 
 one of my old camp-grounds. We had 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 153 
 
 reached the "dead line" — beyond was hostile 
 Indian country. 
 
 I am moved here to say something about 
 the Cimarron. This stream rises in New 
 Mexico, and after passing through the north- 
 eastern corner of that State, it nips off a 
 small part of the southeast corner of Colo- 
 rado and passes into the State of Kansas. 
 After a bend to northward, it flows south into 
 that part of Oklahoma once known as "Neut- 
 ral Strip" or "No Man's Land," jogs back 
 into Kansas between Clark and Comanche 
 counties, and then turns for the last time into 
 Oklahoma, where it pursues a generally 
 southeast course until it meets the Arkansas 
 River in the central part of the State. Cim- 
 arron is a Spanish word, meaning "outcast, 
 outlaw, or wanderer," a name sometimes ap- 
 plied in Spanish-speaking countries to a 
 steer that wanders away from* the herd and 
 ranges alone, wild and intractable. 
 
 The Cimarron is true to its name. Though 
 born of white mountain snows, its waters 
 soon become red and turbid. In Oklahoma 
 the Cimarron crosses several large expanses 
 of salt, making its water undrinkable; in fact, 
 so much salt is held in solution that a large 
 swallow of the water is sufficient to produce 
 nausea. The bed of the Cimarron in the 
 
154 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Plains or prairie country is flat and sandy, 
 though at rare intervals it has rugged shores. 
 Throughout a greater portion of the year, the 
 volume of water to be seen by the eye is 
 small, the current crawling snake-like along 
 its sandy waste. Rarely, however, is the 
 Cimarron without a perceptible current, and 
 usually this current has a rapid flow. 
 
 The Cimarron is commonly regarded as 
 one of the most dangerous streams in the 
 southwest. Its width often is three or four 
 hundred yards. If there were no sand, the 
 stream would be rather imposing in size. It 
 is filled to the brim with sand, however, and 
 through the sand is an underflow. The quick- 
 sands of the Cimarron are notorious. No 
 crossing is ever permanently safe. The sand 
 grips like a vise, and the river sucks down 
 and buries all that it touches — trees, wagons, 
 horses, cattle and men alike, if the latter 
 should be too weak to extricate themselves. 
 In the old days countless buffaloes bogged 
 down and disappeared beneath the sands of 
 the Cimarron. Their dismembered skeletons 
 are frequently uncovered at this day when 
 the river is in flood. 
 
 After a rise, the Cimarron is peculiarly 
 dangerous. As it boils and rolls along, the 
 river loosens and hurls forward an astonish- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 155 
 
 ing quantity of sand. Unless naked a man 
 quickly finds himself pulled down by the in- 
 creasing weight of sand that lodges in his 
 clothes, and swimming becomes difficult, and 
 finally impossible, save without tremendous 
 exertion. Stripped bare, a swimmer can sus- 
 tain himself in the Cimarron with greater 
 ease than in most other streams, as the salt 
 and sand give the water extraordinary buoy- 
 ancy. No man should ever tackle the Cim- 
 arron in flood until after he has stripped to 
 the skin and kicked off his boots. The ex- 
 perienced cow-pony seems to realize its dan- 
 ger when crossing the Cimarron, taking short, 
 quick steps, and moving forward without the 
 slightest pause. To stop would be to sink 
 in the quicksand. 
 
 The Cimarron is subject to sudden and 
 dangerous floods, floods that seem to come 
 from nowhere. In central Oklahoma, for ex- 
 ample, weeks may pass without a drop of 
 rain. A settler crosses the river at noon, 
 blinded by the clouds of sand that have been 
 whipped up by the wind, and finding . the 
 water scarcely reaching his horses' knees. 
 Fifteen minutes later he returns to the cross- 
 ing, and finds the river roaring and thunder- 
 ing from bank to bank. What is known as a 
 "head rise," formed by a cloud-burst far out 
 
156 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 in the Plains country, has come down, a solid 
 wall of water often four or five feet in height. 
 Sometimes two or more of these "head rises" 
 follow each other in succession. The sand is 
 torn loose and brought up from the very bot- 
 tom of the river. To venture into the Cim- 
 arron at such times would be folly. If it 
 must be crossed, the safest way is to ride a 
 horse that knows how to handle himself in 
 a flood of this kind. If the rider can swim 
 it is usually best for him to seize his horse's 
 tail, and follow behind. The safest thing to 
 do is to stay on dry land until the flood has 
 passed, and then sound the crossing. The lat- 
 ter can be made firm by driving a herd of 
 cattle back and forth, which causes the sand 
 to precipitate and begin packing, soon form- 
 ing a bar. 
 
 The Salt Fork of the Arkansas and the 
 South Canadian are counterparts of the Cim- 
 arron in the dangers they oppose to travelers 
 and live stock. 
 
 After crossing the Cimarron, which we 
 accomplished without difficulty, we held a 
 conference to discuss how we should meet 
 the Indian problem, as discretion and pru- 
 dence now impelled us to proceed with cau- 
 tion. It was agreed that if we should en- 
 counter Indians and find them manifesting 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 157 
 
 friendship we would do likewise. This was 
 their country, we argued, and if they would 
 leave us alone, we would be willing to do an 
 even better job than the Indians in this par- 
 ticular. 
 
 Ever since we had left Dodge City Fair- 
 child had been eager to get into an Indian 
 fight, and had bragged about what he would 
 do when the time came. He said that he 
 would not allow an Indian to do or say the 
 least thing to him without his killing the 
 Indian. He was bad medicine from the forks 
 of the creek, a wolf with hydrophobia, a 
 blizzard in July. 
 
 We fully understood the fact the Fair- 
 child did not realize how much trouble a 
 break on his part might bring to the whole 
 outfit! We really feared that he might fire 
 upon a peaceable Indian, and cause all of 
 us to be massacred. 
 
 So it was thought best by several prac- 
 tical jokers among us to take time by the 
 forelock in the particular case of the blood- 
 thirsty Fairchild. We waited until we had 
 reached the South Canadian before dosing 
 out the medicine to him. 
 
 Fairchild loved to hunt, and would ride 
 away from the outfit nearly every day, after 
 deer and antelope. Some of the men had 
 
158 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 made Fairchild believe that he could kill an 
 antelope at a distance of two miles, and he 
 would blaze away as far as he could see 
 them. 
 
 By "scratch" shots, Fairchild managed to 
 kill several antelope and he swelled up with 
 pride until he was almost unrecognizable. 
 What finally happened to him will be told 
 later. 
 
 After leaving the Cimarron, we crossed 
 "No Man's Land." In the brakes of the Cim- 
 arron we had the hardest kind of pulling, as 
 there was lots of sand and the country 
 rough. The fourth day brought us to the 
 Beaver, the main prong of the North Cana- 
 dian, its other branch being Wolf Greek. Both 
 the Beaver and Wolf Creek unite at Camp 
 Supply, the point to which I had helped haul 
 supplies for the Custer expedition, with the 
 outfit of mules that stampeded in harness as 
 we were returning to Fort Hays. 
 
 This time we struck the Palo Duro at its 
 mouth, where there was plenty of water. 
 Here we camped and then moved into the 
 Panhandle of Texas. Now we began strik- 
 ing camps of buffalo-hunters who had pre- 
 pared to stay on the Plains during the win- 
 ter. They were as glad to see us as we were 
 to find them. The coming of more hunters 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 159 
 
 made everybody feel more secure, if there 
 should be an outbreak by the Indians. 
 
 In one of these camps were Fred Singer, 
 who now lives in Dodge City, and two 
 Englishmen, Jim and Bob Gator, both of 
 whom I had met at Hays City, Kansas, in 
 1870, when they had just arrived from Eng- 
 land, and were still wearing knee breeches 
 and buckles. Their togs attracted a great 
 deal of attention. The Gators became close 
 friends of mine in later years. Bob went to 
 Oregon, and Jim settled on Palo Duro, in 
 Hansford county, where he now runs a cow 
 ranch close to where he was camped at the 
 time of which I write. Bob Gator was the 
 hirst postmaster in Hansford Gounty, and 
 when the latter was organized he was elected 
 county judge, holding the office a number of 
 years. Jim and Bob Gator named Dixon 
 Greek, in Hutchinson Gounty, in remem- 
 brance of the fact that I built a dugout and 
 was the first man to camp on this creek in 
 1874. After I went away, they occupied the 
 dugout. This creek still bears my name. 
 
 After the Gators had settled on Palo 
 Duro, two brothers, a sister and Jim Gator's 
 sweetheart came out from England and join- 
 ed them. They could scarcely have gone to 
 a more remote place, and the change be- 
 
James H. Cato 
 
 Texas, Panhandle Pioneer. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 161 
 
 Iween England and the Panhandle country, 
 as they found it at that time, must have been 
 startling. Jim married his sweetheart at 
 Dodge City. Having business at Granada, he 
 took his bride along; the boys teased him 
 about his "wedding" trip. Both the young 
 women were refined and highly educated. 
 Miss Gator was an accomplished horsewoman, 
 one of the best I ever saw. She taught 
 school for several years and then married 
 Glate McGrea. She is still living in Hans- 
 ford county. 
 
 Determined that we would keep moving 
 until we found the best buffalo country, we 
 went south from Palo Duro and struck 
 Moore's Greek at its source, following this 
 stream to the South Canadian River, where 
 we camped about two miles below the present 
 town of Plemons. 
 
 Here we were disappointed at not finding 
 the grass better; there was hardly enough 
 grass for our stock. I am convinced that a 
 number of the Panhandle streams are gradu- 
 ally changing. I easily recall the fact that 
 Moore's Greek then was a narrow, swift-run- 
 ning stream, and at almost any point a man 
 could jump across it. Since that day, Moore's 
 Greek has been frequented by great herds of 
 cattle which trample its sandy shores until 
 
 IID 
 
162 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 wind and rain have flattened its once steep 
 banks and given the stream a width of sev- 
 eral hundred yards. This is true of a ma- 
 jority of the smaller streams that flow into 
 the South Canadian in the Panhandle coun- 
 try. 
 
 In this camp on the South Canadian we 
 paid our respects to Fairchild. All liked him, 
 but he was so bent upon killing an Indian 
 that we felt something must be done, as we 
 w^ere not down in that country to hunt In- 
 dians. Though severe, the dose had to be 
 administered. Of course, everybody save 
 Fairchild knew what was going on. 
 
 In a large grove of cottonwoods just 
 above our camp hundreds upon hundreds of 
 wild turkeys roosted every night. When a 
 turkey hunt was proposed, to take place at 
 night, Fairchild grew so eager and excited 
 to go that he could scarcely control him- 
 self. 
 
 Three men were selected to slip quietly 
 out of camp and at a certain place in the 
 timber have a fire burning when the hunting 
 party got there. One of them came back to 
 serve as guide. Ostensibly he was to lead 
 the hunters to the best and biggest roost, 
 but actually he was to pilot them to the im- 
 mediate vicinity of the fire. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 163 
 
 Fairchild was so impatient to start that 
 it was difficult to persuade him to wait until 
 darkness had fallen and the turkeys had set- 
 tled to roost. 
 
 I do not believe it would have been pos- 
 sible to find a man who loved practical jok- 
 ing more than did "Bat" Masterson. He was 
 in his glory at that sort of thing, and was for- 
 ever pulling off something of the kind. "Bat" 
 was one of the three that had gone out to 
 build the fire. He now came to camp, ready 
 to pilot the hunters where they would "sure 
 find a million turkeys" — and the camp-fire. 
 
 It was arranged that "Bat" should start 
 out, with Fairchild close at his heels, and My- 
 ers bringing up the rear. "Bat" cautioned Fair- 
 child to keep both eyes wide open and to move 
 to keep both eyes wide open and to move 
 softly, as the turkeys must not be frightened. 
 
 Rounding a bend of the creek, where 
 the timber was dark and dense, the hunters 
 suddenly found themselves slap-bang against 
 a camp-fire in full blaze. "Bat" motioned to 
 Fairchild to move back into the timber. The 
 three then held a consultation to discover, if 
 possible, who had built the fire. "Bat" was 
 dead sure that it was an Indian camp; he 
 had been dreaming about Indians two or 
 three nights he said, and was now fearful 
 
164 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 that the worst was at hand. Myers tried to 
 argue that "Bat" was mistaken and rattled, 
 if not actually showing a streak of yellow; 
 anyway, he was willing to bet that Fairchild 
 could whip all the Indians in the Panhandle 
 if given a fair show. 
 
 Bang! Bang! Bang! Half a dozen shots 
 were fired in the direction of the hunters. 
 The bullets whistled and ripped through the 
 branches close above their heads. Myers took 
 the lead back to camp, yelling bloody murder 
 at every step, to terrify Fairchild. "Bat" 
 came last, gradually dropping behind and 
 firing his six-shooter until Fairchild was con- 
 fident that the most desperate fight with In- 
 dians imaginable was at hand. 
 
 "Bun, Fairchild; run for your life!" 
 shouted Masterson. 
 
 At a bound Fairchild had passed Myers, 
 and tore into camp like a tornado coming 
 through a forest. He was half a mile ahead 
 of "Bat" and Myers. They had led him far 
 enough away to give him a long, hard run. 
 
 Fairchild stumbled and fell exhausted on 
 a pile of bedding, gasping for breath, his 
 eyes distended and his teeth chattering. We 
 crowded round, seemingly in great alarm, 
 asking him a thousand questions about the 
 cause of his fright. For several minutes he 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle. 165 
 
 was unable to speak, and acted as if he were 
 suffocating. Finally, he managed to say in 
 a hoarse whisper: 
 
 "Injuns." 
 
 "Oh, men, he must be shot," exclaimed 
 a mischievous hunter. 
 
 Thereupon, another joker seized a butch- 
 er knife and ripped Fairchild's shirt down 
 the back from collar to tail. Another, frantic- 
 ally calling for water, and finding none, 
 emptied the contents of the camp coffee pot 
 down Faichild's bare back, which alarmed 
 Fairchild with the fear that he had been 
 wounded. 
 
 Fairchild was recovering by the time 
 Myers and Masterson and the men who had 
 been at the camp-fire, closely approaching 
 camp, bounded in with a great rush, panting 
 for breath, and began upbraiding Fairchild 
 for abandoning them to the mercy of the 
 Indians. We had asked Fairchild what had 
 become of "Bat" and Myers, and he feebly 
 replied : 
 
 "Killed, I guess." 
 
 "How many Indians were there, and did 
 you see them?" 
 
 He answered that he did not know how 
 many there were, because of the way they 
 shot, but he was sure that the timber was 
 
166 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 full of them. Once he heard something whiz 
 past his head which he knew was not a 
 bullet, but an arrow. 
 
 Masterson now stepped forward and 
 tremblingly declared that the whole turkey 
 roost country was alive with Indians. In- 
 stantly, there was rushing to and fro in 
 preparation for defense. Serious, perhaps 
 fatal trouble for everybody, was at hand; 
 the devil was to pay and no pitch hot. All 
 kinds of suggestions were offered as to what 
 was best to do. Some of the boys were in 
 favor of starting at once for Dodge City, as 
 the Indians would be unable to follow our 
 trail at night, and we might get far enough 
 away by daylight to escape. Fairchild was 
 firmly committed to the Dodge City plan. 
 
 More resolute men were in favor of 
 fighting it out, if every man bit the dust, and 
 proposed that a strong guard be thrown 
 round the camp, and that the men take turns 
 standing guard until morning. 
 
 This plan was adopted, and the guards 
 were stationed at regular intervals every- 
 where round camp, save on the river side, 
 where a high bank offered protection against 
 sudden surprise. 
 
 Fairchild was placed on guard near- 
 est the river, and warned to maintain a vig- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 167 
 
 ilant lookout along the edge of the bank, as 
 the Indians might swim up the river, and 
 plug him when he wasn't looking, after 
 which they could kill everybody in camp. 
 As a matter of fact, it would have been im- 
 possible for the enemy to approach in this 
 manner, because of the swiftness of the wat- 
 er, and the banks were too high and steep 
 to be scaled. 
 
 By this time Fairchild was ready to be- 
 lieve anything he heard and was so badly 
 rattled that he failed to see that we had left 
 our camp fire burning, something that we 
 would never have done had we actually felt 
 that Indians were in the vicinity, as fires 
 would have exposed us to a broadside from 
 the darkness. Fairchild was in no frame of 
 mind to think of trifles, and obeyed all orders 
 without asking why. 
 
 The guards were stationed, and shortly 
 afterwards, one by one, they came in, all 
 save Fairchild, who stood at his post. There 
 was much noisy laughter over the trick we 
 had played on him. When Fairchild failed 
 to meet the next guard, he became suspic- 
 ious, and drew near camp, where he over- 
 heard what we were saying. Then he came 
 in, with blood in his eye. I have often 
 thought that he was the angriest man I ever 
 
168 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 saw in my life. We were too many for him, 
 or else he would have crippled somebody. 
 He refused to eat breakfast, and sulked for 
 several days. This cured him, however, of 
 wanting to kill an Indian, and ever after- 
 wards he was a good hunter and a good 
 fellow. 
 
 The last time I saw Fairchild he had his 
 sleeves rolled up, skinning buffaloes, and on 
 his face was a coat of tan half an inch 
 thick. He bore little resemblance to the ten- 
 derfoot I had first seen at Dodge City. 
 
 Fairchild was not the only fellow we 
 treated in this manner. The boys delighted 
 in playing jokes upon each other. The worst 
 scare I ever got was in 1870 when I was 
 working for a man near Fort Hays. He owned 
 a herd of beef cattle which he had sold to 
 the Government. One day three of us were 
 out with the herd. The cattle had been 
 stampeding practically every day, and we 
 were having lots of trouble with them 
 
 We were riding along the Saline River, 
 looking for strays. Campbell, a member of 
 the outfit, was a quarter of a mile behind 
 Thompson and myself. Campbell suddenly 
 emptied his six-shooter and dashed toward 
 us, shouting "Indians!" at the top of his 
 voice. He knew that he was mounted upon 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 169 
 
 a much swifter horse than either of ours, 
 and passed us Hke the wind. 
 
 Thompson and I looked back, but could 
 see no signs of Indians. We were certain, 
 nevertheless, that Campbell was in earnest. 
 We put both spurs to our horses and rode 
 after him at top speed. The country was 
 very rough, and we supposed that after 
 Campbell and the Indians fired at each other, 
 the Indians had dropped behind a ridge. We 
 felt that we were making a run for our lives. 
 Campbell was going so fast that we could not 
 overtake him. Occasionally, he would stop 
 long enough for us to come within speaking 
 distance, whereupon he would shout, "Hur- 
 ry up; there they come!" and dash away. 
 
 He kept this up for about six miles. 
 Our objective point was a wood-choppers' 
 camp, where we expected to make a stand 
 against the Indians. If we were killed, we 
 could at least die among men of our own 
 race. We were hopeful, however, of being 
 able to beat the Indians off. 
 
 Our horses were now in a lather, and 
 rapidly breaking down. Rounding a little 
 knoll, we saw Campbell lying on the ground 
 and rolling from side to side, as if in acute 
 pain. Perhaps he had been shot. Upon 
 reaching him, we found to our inexpressible 
 
170 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 rage and disgust that his paroxysms were 
 caused by laughter — he said that he had not 
 seen an Indian all that day; just wanted to 
 play a trick on us. We made Campbell 
 swear not to tell the other boys; he kept his 
 word. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WE had lots of fun sky-larking in our 
 camp on Moore's Creek, but spring was 
 coming on, and it was our wish to establish 
 a permanent camp at the best possible place. 
 Unconsciously, we were drawn to that place 
 as other men, long, long before us, had been 
 drawn, and which we reached by pulling 
 right down the river bottom about twelve 
 miles to what was then called West Adobe 
 Walls Creek but which is now called Bent 
 Creek. 
 
 The latter is a beautiful stream, clear 
 and swift. About a mile from its mouth 
 stood the old ruins of the original Adobe 
 Walls. Here we stopped and camped for the 
 night. We had heard of these ruins ever 
 since we had been in the Plains country. 
 They were of great interest to us, and we 
 carefully examined them, wondering what 
 men in such a far-off day had ventured to 
 establish themselves here, and why they had 
 done so. We were not acquainted with the 
 history of the place. We thought of Mexicans 
 and different Indian tribes of the southwest. 
 As a matter of fact, there are the remains 
 of villages and old burial grounds on Wolf 
 
172 
 
 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Creek in the Panhandle which men who 
 claim to know about such things declare are 
 the remains of the easternmost extension of 
 the Pueblo civilization. I have no opinion in 
 the matter. 
 
 Dixo?is Log Homestead on Site of Original 
 Adobe Walls. 
 
 When we first saw Adobe Walls, there 
 were parts of walls still standing, some be- 
 ing four or five feet high. The adobe bricks 
 were in an excellent state of preservation. 
 Many different stories have been told about 
 this place and its origin. While I was hunt- 
 ing buffaloes in southern Kansas I met up 
 with a man named Charley Powell who had 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 173 
 
 been a soldier in the Third Cavalry. He told 
 me that in 1863, when they were going from 
 Fort Smith, Arkansas, to Fort Bascom, New 
 Mexico, the trail lay on the south of the 
 Canadian, opposite Adobe Walls. The sol- 
 diers crossed over and looked at the ruins. 
 Even at that time none of the buildings was 
 standing. 
 
 Later, when I was serving as scout at 
 Fort Elliott, Texas, I was talking with General 
 Hatch one day, and we fell to discussing the 
 Adobe Walls country. He told me that he 
 passed up the Canadian in 1848 with a regi- 
 ment of dragoons, going out west, and stop- 
 ped to examine these ruins. He said that 
 only the broken walls were to be seen and 
 that there was much to indicate that the 
 place long since had been abandoned. On 
 this expedition he was a second Heutenant; 
 at the time I talked with him he was Lieu- 
 tenant Colonel of the Fourth United States 
 Cavalry, and in command at Fort Elliott, an 
 old, gray-haired man. He was shrewd and 
 very industrious. He took pride in improv- 
 ing Fort Elliott, and had a mania for using 
 adobe bricks in the erection of buildings. 
 Employing Mexicans, who were past masters 
 in the making of these bricks, Colonel Hatch 
 built stables large enough to hold horses for 
 
174 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 three troops of cavalry. He put up so many 
 adobe buildings at Fort Elliott that finally 
 he was called "Doby" Hatch. 
 
 It is probable that old Adobe Walls was 
 built by Major William Bent, in the first 40's 
 or earlier,, the year 1844 being possible. 
 Major Bent's son, George Bent, now living at 
 Colony, Okla., made this statement: 
 
 "Bent & Company built Adobe Walls, 
 as it is called. I cannot find out when it 
 was built. It was a trading post to trade 
 with the Comanches, Kiowas and Prairie 
 Apaches. Bent & Company traded for horses 
 and mules from the Indians. They sent their 
 traders in summer time to trade for this 
 stock. The post was not occupied in winter, 
 as the Company did not trade for buffalo 
 robes, as the trading post was too far from 
 Bent's Fort on the Arkansas River to haul 
 the hides. These horses and mules were 
 driven to Missouri and sold; also, to the 
 Platte Rivers, to be sold to the emigrants. 
 The Comanches, Kiowas and Apaches were 
 rich in horses and mules. They stole many 
 in old Mexico and traded off the wild ones 
 very cheap. Bent & Company employed many 
 Mexicans to break these wild animals, after 
 which the latter were sold to the whites." 
 
 The noted plainsman and Indian trader. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 175 
 
 John Smith, told George Bent that together 
 with five or six companions he made his es- 
 cape from old Adobe Walls, after it had 
 been attacked by Gomanches and Kiowas. 
 
 Even though it be true that old Adobe 
 Walls was established by JMajor William 
 Bent and his associates, a tradition remains 
 that they merely seized upon a site that had 
 been occupied at an even earlier day by men 
 of whom nothing is known, save that they are 
 believed to have come from the Spanish set- 
 tlements in New Mexico. There are tradi- 
 tions of buried treasure at Adobe Walls, and 
 strangers have appeared there in search of it. 
 One of these treasure-hunters was an old 
 gray-haired man who came after the coun- 
 try had been settled. His story was that a 
 pack train loaded with gold and silver bul- 
 lion had been attacked at this place by In- 
 dians. In its extremity, the beseiged party 
 buried the bullion. Only one or two mem- 
 bers of the expedition escaped massacre, 
 among the slain being a Gatholic priest. 
 
 The old man in search of the treasure 
 was too feeble to do the physical work of 
 digging, and tried to hire men to work for 
 him. He was looked upon as slightly de- 
 mented, and could get no assistance. He de- 
 parted without finding the buried fortune. 
 
176 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Subsequently, his story was revived, and men 
 living in the locality made numerous excava- 
 tions, but found nothing. 
 
 The day after we camped on Bent Creek, 
 several of the boys rode northeast, to look 
 over the country. Upon their return, they 
 reported that there was an excellent site for 
 a permanent camp on the next creek, about 
 a mile and a half further on, so we pulled 
 up the valley and began unloading our wag- 
 ons on the bare ground in a broad valley 
 where there was a pretty stream called East 
 Adobe Walls Creek. This was to become a 
 spot memorable to all of us. 
 
 Myers & Leonard built a picket house 
 twenty by sixty feet in size. James Hanra- 
 han put up a sod house, twenty-five by sixty, 
 in which he opened a saloon. Thomas 
 O'Keefe built a blacksmith's shop of pickets, 
 fifteen feet square. Thus, a little town was 
 sprouting in the wilderness — a place where 
 we could buy something to eat and wear^ 
 something to drink, ammunition for our 
 guns, and a place where our wagons, so 
 necessary in expeditions like ours, could be 
 repaired. 
 
 While all this hammering and pounding 
 and digging was going on, I started with three 
 companions and rode the country as far down 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 177 
 
 as where the present town of Clarendon, 
 Texas, now stands. We were absent about 
 fifteen days, and upon our return we found 
 the buildings about finished. We did not 
 see many buffaloes on this trip. Maybe the 
 buffaloes had scented Indians. We ranged as 
 far east as Cantonement Creek, and on its 
 east prong encountered a few scattering 
 bulls. The season was too early for the 
 cows and bulls to begin mating and running 
 together. 
 
 On Cantonement Creek we stopped at 
 some seeping springs. A lone cottonwood 
 stood tall and gaunt among a few hackberries. 
 I cut my name on this lone tree. One 
 of the men who was with me at that time 
 was a Frenchman, for whom we had no 
 other name than "Frenchy," just as we 
 had single names for many other men in 
 the Plains country. He was an excellent 
 cook, and I always thought he could broil 
 buffalo steak better than any other man I 
 ever saw. 
 
 In returning to camp, we crossed Red 
 Deer about where Miami, Texas, now is, and 
 camped at some water-holes. Heading north- 
 ward we soon struck the brakes of Talla- 
 hone, and followed the Tallahone down to 
 its mouth. This was a timbered creek with 
 
 12D 
 
178 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 an abundance of running water. Perch and 
 catfish were so plentiful that enough to feed 
 the whole camp could be caught in a few 
 minutes. Deer and wild turkeys were in 
 sight all along Tallahone, and there were 
 numerous signs of beaver and otter. 
 
 Here we crossed the Canadian at what 
 for many years was the main crossing in 
 this part of the country, and followed along 
 the north side of the river to Adobe Walls. 
 
 During our absence from camp, Wright 
 & Langton came down from Dodge City with 
 another outfit and built a sod house sixteen 
 by twenty feet. This firm bought buffalo 
 hides and was engaged in general merchan- 
 dising. The business was in charge of James 
 Langton. 
 
 The buildings were finished as rapidly 
 as possible, and every man at Adobe Walls 
 who could be induced to engage in this kind 
 of manual labor was given a job and paid 
 well for his services. Each building had a 
 big Cottonwood ridge log, paralleled with 
 smaller poles running down the roof. The 
 poles were covered with dirt and sod. For 
 safety and convenience in handling their 
 stock, Myers & Leonard built a stockade cor- 
 ral. This inclosure was made by setting big 
 Cottonwood logs in the ground. The logs 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 179 
 
 were hauled across the Canadian, from Rey- 
 nolds Creek, a distance of about six miles, and 
 was a laborious undertaking. 
 
 I had no liking for the monotony and 
 restraint of camp life and was impatient to 
 be about my own business, which was to find 
 a good buffalo range and begin hunting. 
 After remaining in camp two days, we sad- 
 dled and mounted again, to go up the Can- 
 adian as far west as Hill's Creek. We crossed 
 the river and followed the old Fort Bascom 
 trail to Antelope Creek, where we crossed 
 over to the Arroya Bonita, on which the LX 
 Ranch afterwards established headquarters. 
 The Arroya Bonita is one of the prettiest 
 streams in the Panhandle country, with a 
 good flow of water and lots of timber. 
 
 Here I struck the trail I had made dur- 
 ing the previous winter, and which I now 
 followed back across the Canadian and thence 
 north to Grapevine Creek, where I camped 
 two or three days. This was at the edge of 
 the Plains. At intervals we struck small 
 bands of bulls as we did all the way. Buffa- 
 loes were surprisingly scarce. Sometimes we 
 killed them, and at other times did not mo- 
 lest them. Generally, there were from four 
 to ten in a bunch. The scarcity of buffaloes 
 rather discouraged us, and we redoubled our 
 
180 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 efforts to locate a big herd. We held to the 
 east, keeping along the edge of the Plains 
 and coming down to the Canadian between 
 Bugbee Canyon and Big Creek. Bugbee Can- 
 yon received its name from the fact that 
 Thomas Bugbee settled there in 1876. His 
 was one of the first cow ranches established 
 in the Panhandle of Texas. Charles Good- 
 night, whom I met first in the fall of 1875, 
 brought his cattle that year from Colorado to 
 Palo Duro Canyon. Mrs. Goodnight joined 
 her husband in 1876. 
 
 We were in the Bugbee Canyon country 
 in May, 1874. The season was delightful. 
 The air was fresh and invigorating, the grass 
 was green, flowers were blooming, the sky 
 was clear, the sunshine pleasant, and a feel- 
 ing of joy and happiness everywhere. Those 
 were splendid nights, out there under the 
 stars. The mornings came with dazzling 
 splendor. At this season sunrise on the 
 Plains presented a scene of magnificence. I 
 always had the feeling that it came with a 
 thunderous sound. 
 
 When we struck Big Creek I noticed a 
 patch of lamb's quarter (wild greens), and I 
 told the boys we would go into camp and 
 cook a pot of green, which we did. We ate 
 greens to our hearts' content. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 181 
 
 Searching out every point in the coun- 
 try, next day we followed an old trail down 
 to the Canadian valley, striking it at a high 
 point, afterwards known as Dixon's Point, 
 on account of its being opposite Dixon's 
 Creek. We soon reached Adobe Walls. 
 
 All the buildings had been finished, and 
 everybody was doing a good business. Quite 
 a number of hunters had come down from 
 the north, and a plain trail had been opened 
 between Adobe Walls and Dodge City, a 
 hundred and fifty miles away. Freight out- 
 fits were making regular trips between the 
 two places. 
 
 All of us hunters acquainted with the 
 habits of the buffalo knew that the herds 
 would soon be coming north from the Staked 
 Plains region where they had spent the win- 
 ter. The spring had been unusually late, 
 which held back the buffaloes in their mi- 
 gration. There was nothing for us to do but 
 wait until the buffaloes were moved by that 
 strange impulse that twice annually caused 
 them to change their home and blacken the 
 Plains with their countless, moving forms. 
 We could lie around camp or vary the mon- 
 otony by going to Adobe Walls and joining 
 in the fun that was rampant at that place. 
 Our amusements were mostly card-playing. 
 
182 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 imnning horse-races, drinking whisky and 
 shooting at targets, the latter to improve our 
 marksmanship. 
 
 All this soon got old to me, and about 
 the last of May I pulled out again. Grossing 
 the Canadian at the mouth of White Deer 
 Creek, I followed the latter to its head and 
 went out on the Plains, keeping along their 
 edge until I came to Dixon Creek. Here I 
 found an ideal camping place, with plenty 
 of wood, grass and water. I decided to 
 build our permanent camp, and was soon in- 
 dustriously at work. I knew by the signs 
 that buffaloes had been through here, and it 
 was certain that they would soon be comings 
 back. 
 
 I had two men with me, "Frenchy," whom 
 I employed as a skinner, and Charley Armi- 
 tage, an agreeable fellow who had come from 
 England. Those Englishmen certainly loved 
 the life of the frontier. 
 
 We had been here two or three days, 
 when the expected happened. Getting up 
 one morning earlier than my companions, I 
 chunked the fire for breakfast, and stood 
 waiting for it to begin blazing. Then a fam- 
 iliar sound come rolling toward me from 
 the Plains — a sound deep and moving, not 
 unlike the rumbling of a distant train pass- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 183 
 
 ing over a bridge. In an instant I knew 
 what was at hand. I had often heard it. I 
 had been listening for it for days, even 
 weeks. 
 
 Walking out on a high point near camp, 
 I gazed eagerly toward the horizon. I could 
 see nothing save the vast undulating land- 
 scape. My ears, however, had revealed to me 
 what my eyes could not see. The buffaloes 
 were coming! 
 
 Hurrying back to camp, I shouted the 
 good news to Armitage and "Frenchy," rous- 
 ing them from their sleep and telling them 
 to hurry breakfast. They lost no time in 
 making coffee, frying meat and browning a 
 cake of bread. I saddled my horse by the 
 time breakfast was ready, and after eating 
 hurriedly I sprang into my saddle and went 
 south at a gallop. 
 
 After I had ridden about five miles, I 
 began striking small bunches of buffalo bulls, 
 all headed north and all moving. A further 
 ride of eight miles carried me out on the 
 Plains. My muscles hardened and grew warm 
 at the sight. As far as the eye could reach, 
 south, east and west of me there was a solid 
 mass of buffaloes — thousands upon thousands 
 of them — slowly moving toward the north. 
 
 The noise I had heard at early day- 
 
184 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 break was the bellowing of the bulls. At 
 this time of year — the breeding season — the 
 bellowing of the countless bulls was continu- 
 ous, a deep, steady roar, that seemed to 
 reach to the clouds. It was kept up night 
 and day, but seemed to be deepest and plain- 
 est at early morning. 
 
 I was happy beyond measure, and turned 
 my horse toward camp, hastening at full speed 
 to let my men know what I had found. Al- 
 ready, the buffaloes were approaching the 
 vicinity of my camp, and in sight of it I 
 shot thirty-five or forty, all bulls; the boys 
 were soon busily at work with their skinning 
 knives. By night buffaloes were passing with- 
 in gunshot of our camp. 
 
 Business had now begun in earnest, and 
 we would soon be enjoying a steady income, 
 to offset our winter's expenses. Where buf- 
 faloes were as plentiful as they were here I 
 could easily kill enough in a day to keep ten 
 skinners busily at work. I killed enough next 
 day to keep "Frenchy" and Armitage employed 
 for several days, and went down to Adobe 
 Walls in a light wagon, to see if I could 
 hire more skinners. I found one man who 
 would go with me, but for only a few days, 
 until his partner should return with a load 
 of hides. All the other hunters had heard 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 185 
 
 the good news, and had pulled out for the 
 buffalo range. Adobe Walls was deserted, 
 save for the merchants and their clerks. By 
 offering this man twenty-five cents a hide 
 for skinning, I induced him to go with me 
 for a week or ten days. 
 
 On my way I had undertaken to pick out 
 the most direct route from my conip to 
 Adobe Walls. Keeping on the divide between 
 Dixon Creek and Short Creek, I came to a 
 stretch of very rough country late in the 
 evening, and finally reached a place where 
 it was impossible to travel further in a 
 wagon. As darkness was falling, I unhooked 
 my mules, Tobe and Joe, and jumped astride 
 old Tobe, followed some buffalo trails down 
 to Dixon Creek, near its mouth where grass 
 and water were abundant. 
 
 As this particular locality was new to me 
 and darkness at hand, I decided that I 
 would camp there for the night. Picketing 
 one of the mules, I turned the other one 
 loose. With a single blanket for my bed 
 and my coat for a pillow, I lay down for the 
 night, and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 No mercy was shown the buffaloes when 
 I got back to camp from Adobe Walls. I 
 killed as many as my three men could han- 
 dle, working them as hard as they were will- 
 
186 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 ing to work. This was deadly business, with- 
 out sentiment; it was dollars against tender- 
 heartedness, and dollars won. 
 
 When the man I had hired at Adobe 
 Walls had worked his full time, I hitched 
 up and started back with him. When we 
 reached the Canadian we found her with 
 her back up, smashing and banging things 
 from side to side — so deep and swollen that 
 it would have been the height of foolishness 
 to attempt a crossing. We went on to White 
 Deer Creek, hoping to find a wider crossing, 
 and by reason of it a shallower bottom. 
 
 I waded the river in my search for a 
 good footing, and decided finally that we 
 could cross by swimming the mules fifty or 
 sixty yards. It was our purpose to unhitch 
 the mules and leave the wagon on the south 
 side of the river until the water had run 
 down. 
 
 Our plans were quickly changed. At that 
 moment two men from Adobe Walls rode up 
 and told us that two hunters had been killed 
 by Indians twenty-five miles down the river, 
 on Chicken Creek, several days past. Our 
 informants were greatly excited, and were 
 hurrying back to their camp at the head of 
 White Deer, 
 
 If the Indians were on the warpath, we 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 187 
 
 knew it would be foolish to leave our wagon, 
 as they would destroy it beyond doubt, so 
 we decided to risk trying to take it across 
 the river regardless of the wide stretch of 
 rolling water. 
 
 While men experienced in the trials of 
 travel in the wilderness may grow indifferent 
 to danger, yet they never quite forget that 
 danger exists. This is especially true in 
 crossing such streams as the South Canadian 
 and the Cimarron. These streams make the 
 odds in their own way and in their own 
 favor. The man that ventures into them 
 must rely solely upon his own nerve, strength 
 and horse sense. 
 
 Choosing a point on the opposite side of 
 the river where we wished to land, we drove 
 in, hoping for the best. In a moment the 
 swift current caught us, and both mules were 
 swimming. In water a mule has less sense 
 than a horse, and the ginger is soon knocked 
 out of him if he gets his ears full of water. 
 Having smaller feet, the mule cannot equal 
 a horse in traversing quicksand. 
 
 After the mules had taken a few plunges, 
 the current caught up our wagon and whirled 
 it over and over like a top. When I saw 
 that the mules would have to swim for it, I 
 sprang into the water to help the friglitened 
 
188 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 animals, getting on their upper side and seiz- 
 ing the mule nearest me hy his bridle. In 
 this way I was able to keep his head above 
 water. The other mule, terrified by its sur- 
 roundings, alternately rose and sank. We 
 saw that if the wagon kept turning over, the 
 team might get drowned, so we cut the har- 
 ness, and after the greatest exertion got the 
 mules ashore. The near mule lay down on 
 the sand and died without a struggle. It 
 seemed ridiculous that the mule should suc- 
 cumb after being taken from the water, yet 
 there he lay. Old Tobe was saved. The 
 wagon drifted down stream about sixty yards 
 and lodged against the bank. We pulled it 
 out of the river next day. Our greatest mis- 
 fortune was the loss of our guns. 
 
 When we lined up on the north side of 
 the river we were a sorry lot — two bedraggled, 
 unarmed men and a water-logged mule three 
 miles from Adobe Walls, in danger of at- 
 tack by Indians at any moment. Ordinarily, 
 I was not easily discouraged. This, however, 
 was a jolt from the shoulder. I stood in 
 greatest need of my gun, a big "50." We 
 could dig out the wagon, but not the guns, 
 and somewhere in the depths of the Cana- 
 dian they are rusting this very day. 
 
 We were a sorrowful pair as we started 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 189 
 
 up the valley for Adobe Walls, leading old 
 Tobe and leaving old Joe to bleach on the 
 Canadian sands. Unwilling to let the other 
 walk, neither of us would ride. I had lost 
 my hat in the river, and my clothing was 
 plastered with mud and sand. 
 
 Upon coming in sight of Adobe Walls, we 
 were quickly discovered, and our disordered 
 appearance convinced the men that we had 
 been attacked by Indians — possibly we were 
 the only survivors of a desperate encounter. 
 We found Adobe Walls buzzing with talk 
 about Indians. The particulars of the killing 
 of the men on Chicken Creek were now 
 learned. Their names were Dudley and Wal- 
 lace. They were camped on the south side of 
 the creek near where the Ledrick brothers 
 now have a ranch. Dudley, Wallace and 
 Joe Plummer were hunting together from 
 this camp. Plummer went to Adobe Walls 
 for supplies. Upon his return he was horri- 
 fied to find the dead bodies of his two com- 
 panions. Through the breast of one had 
 been driven a heavy wooden stake, pinning 
 him to the ground. Both were scalped, and 
 otherwise mutilated in a shocking manner. 
 
 Looking away from his camp, Plummer 
 said he saw objects at a distance which he 
 felt sure were Indians. Realizing that the 
 
190 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 next thing for him to do was to try to save 
 his life, he cut the harness from one of his 
 horses, mounted and dashed away toward 
 Adobe Walls. 
 
 The news he brought caused much excite- 
 ment, as these were the first men that had 
 been killed since the building of Adobe Walls. 
 When Plummer reached the Walls there were 
 only a few men there, but he managed to get 
 two buffalo-hunters to go back with him to 
 bury the dead. A party of fifteen surveyors, 
 employed by the State of Texas, and in 
 charge of a man named Maddox, had just 
 arrived in that section. I am told that this 
 was the first surveying ever done in the Pan- 
 handle, and that the Maddox survey still holds 
 good. The surveyors' camp was on Johns' 
 Creek. Plummer had halted there on his way 
 to Adobe Walls, to warn the men against the 
 Indians. When Plummer returned, the mem- 
 bers of the surveying party joined him to 
 help bury the dead. No further indignities 
 had been offered the bodies, which were 
 buried on the spot. The horses, still in 
 their harness were found grazing in the val- 
 ley. Plummer gathered up the outfit and 
 w^ent to Adobe Walls — the surveyors kept go- 
 ing straight south, fully satisfied that soldiers, 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 191 
 
 not surveyors, were what the country most 
 needed. 
 
 Hearing all this, I was impatient to re- 
 turn to my own camp as quickly as possible, 
 but was detained by the necessity of buying a 
 mate for my mule, which was beset with 
 difficulties. Finally, I managed to buy a horse. 
 My next obstacle to overcome was to replace 
 the gun I had lost in the Canadian. The best 
 I was able to do was to buy what was called 
 a round-barrel Sharp's. I had left camp in 
 such a hurry that I failed to take my six- 
 shooter, an oversight of which I was rarely 
 guilty in those days. I had been absent three 
 days when I got back to my camp. 
 
 The evening before I left Adobe Walls, 
 another hunter came in with Indian news. 
 His name was Moore. He said that two days 
 previously two men had been killed by In- 
 dians in his camp on a tributaary of Salt 
 Fork of Red River, north of where Claren- 
 don, Texas, is now situated. The names of 
 the dead men were John Jones, nicknamed 
 "Cheyenne Jack," a young Englishman, and 
 "Blue Billy," a German. The camp was de- 
 stroyed and all the stock run off. 
 
 "Cheyenne Jack" belonged to an influ- 
 ential family in England. His relatives, sev- 
 eral years later, made inquiry through the 
 
192 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 British diplomatic service, in communication 
 to the commanding officer at Fort Elliott, Tex- 
 as, as to the whereabouts of the unfortuniate 
 man's remains. I was directed to tind where 
 the body had been buried. It was a week 
 after Moore reported these murders before a 
 party went from Adobe Walls to bury the 
 dead men. Jones and his companion had 
 fallen in the bed of a creek in a grove of 
 timber, right in camp. While Moore was 
 absent, a flood came down the creek and car- 
 ried the bodies and the whole camp away. 
 The bodies could not be found. 
 
 Before leaving the Walls to go to my 
 camp, I got "Brick" Bond, now living at 
 Dodge City, Kansas, to accompany me. I was 
 fearful that the Indians had attacked my 
 camp and possibly killed Albright and 
 "Frenchy." Happily, I found them alive and 
 ignorant of what had been going on in the 
 country south of the Walls. 
 
 All of us agreed that a blind man could 
 see that it was entirely too risky to stay in 
 camp with Indians all around us, so we lost 
 no time in loading our outfit and pulling into 
 Adobe Walls, arriving there by noon the next 
 day. The story of the Indian depredations 
 had spread to all the hunting camps, and by 
 the time we reached the Walls a large crowd 
 
Adobe Walls. Texas Panhandle 193 
 
 had gathered in from the surrounding coun- 
 try. We remained here for about a week. 
 
 An odd thing about this Indian excite- 
 ment was that none of the hunters had seen 
 an Indian nor a sign of one. The Indians 
 evidently had carefully picked their time, 
 watching closely and waiting until only two 
 or three men were in camp, whereupon they 
 attacked and then slipped stealthily away. 
 All of us felt that these murders had been 
 perpetrated as a warning to the buffalo- 
 hunters to leave the country — to go north of 
 the "dead hue." 
 
 Every man of us was dead set against 
 abandoning the butialo range. The herds 
 were now at hand, and we were in a fair way 
 to make a pile of money. Furthermore, the 
 buffaloes were becoming scarcer and scarcer 
 each year, and it was expedient that we make 
 hay while the sun shone, for soon the sun 
 would be no longer shining in the buffalo 
 business. Its night was close at hand. We 
 decided that the best and safest plan would 
 be for three or four outfits to throw in to- 
 gether and all occupy the same camp. After 
 all, it was not unusual to hear of two or 
 three buffalo-hunters being killed and scalped 
 every year, and perhaps there would be no 
 further outbreaks by the Indians. It was 
 
 13D 
 
194 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 agreed, however, that everybody should be 
 very careful and take every precaution 
 against surprise and attack. 
 
 When we started back to the range, most 
 of us went west and north of the Walls, as 
 the Indians were supposed to be camped on 
 the headwaters of the Washita and the Sweet- 
 water, south of us, their main summer camp 
 grounds. But I was so in love with my lo- 
 cation on Dixon Creek, southwest of the 
 Walls, that I resolved to take the risk and 
 establish myself at that point, and went there 
 with three skinners I had hired. 
 
 We had left a lot of hides at this camp, 
 and began hauling them to Adobe Walls, 
 which took several days. I felt uneasy all 
 the time. Something seemed to be wrong. 
 There was Indian in the air, and I could not 
 shake myself loose from thinking about the 
 possible danger, so I told my men that it 
 might be well for us to get over on the 
 north side of the Canadian. We broke camp 
 and went to Adobe Walls, to increase our 
 stock of supplies for a stay near the head of 
 Moore's Creek. 
 
 We were buying supplies to last us two 
 months, and were ready to start next day. 
 Late in the evening James Hanrahan came to 
 me and said: 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 195 
 
 "Billy, where are you going?" 
 
 "Northwest," I answered. 
 
 Hanrahan then asked me how it would 
 suit me for the two of us to throw in to- 
 gether. He said he had been having trouble 
 in getting a man who could hunt fast enough 
 to keep his skinners busy. Hanrahan owned 
 a big outfit, and usually had seven skinners. 
 I told him that nothing would please me 
 more than to go into partnership with him, 
 and that I could easily kill enough buifaloes 
 to keep twenty skinners hard at work every 
 day. Hanrahan offered to give me half of 
 all the profits, which was as liberal as any 
 man could wish for. 
 
 Our wagons were all assembled and load- 
 ed, in readiness for us to pull out next morn- 
 ing, June 27, 1874. 
 
 It might be well to describe the exact 
 location of the buildings and the nature of 
 their surroundings. All the buildings at 
 Adobe Walls faced to the east, the main 
 ones standing in a row. On the south was 
 the store of Rath & Wright, with a great pile 
 of buffalo hides at the rear. Then came 
 Hanrahan's saloon, and fifty yards or so 
 north of the latter was the store of Leonard 
 & Myers, the building forming the northeast 
 corner of the big picket stockade. In the 
 
196 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 soiithwcst corner of the stockade was a mess 
 house, and between the mess house and the 
 store was a well. The blacksmith's shop was 
 located just north of Hanrahan's saloon. 
 
 The adobe walls of the main buildings 
 were about two feet thick. The door of Rath 
 & Wright's store opened to the west, while 
 that of Leonard & Myers looked to the east. 
 
 Benfs Creek, west of the Walls, flowed 
 from the northwest in a southeasterly direc- 
 tion to the Canadian, passing close to the 
 ruins of old Adobe Walls, about a mile and 
 a quarter south of the new Adobe Walls. On 
 the north side of Bent's Creek, southwest of 
 the buildings, was a hill, north of which the 
 land was smoother and afterwards a part of 
 the Turkey Track Ranch pasture. 
 
 East of Adobe Walls lay the open valley 
 of Adobe Walls Creek, terminating in a 
 growth of wdllows, cottonwoods, hackberry, 
 chinaberry, and stunted elms that fringed 
 this stream, on the other side of which, at a 
 distance of about twelve hundred yards from 
 Leonard & Myer's store stood a butte-like 
 hill of considerable height, with a more or 
 less level bench near the summit, caused by 
 the sliding and falling of debris from the 
 crest. Several hundred yards southeast were 
 the low sandhills of the Canadian, whose wide 
 
Adobe Walls, Ti:xas Paniiandll 197 
 
 expanse of level sand was more than a mile 
 away. 
 
 The season had advanced so slowly, and 
 the huflaloos had heen so Umg coming norlh, 
 that we had done comparatively litlle luml- 
 ing, and all of ns were impatient to he np 
 and gone. O'Keele was doing a hig l)nsiness 
 at his hlacksmitlfs shop, pounding away hour 
 after hour, repairing the wagons on which 
 the huHalo hides were to he hauled from the 
 hunting grounds to the traders at Adol)e 
 Walls. My wagon was in front of the shop, 
 O'Keefe having iinished repairing it. 
 
 I had heen unahle to replace my l)ig "r)()," 
 lost in the Canadian, with a gun that suited 
 me in every way, hut it was highly import- 
 ant that 1 should he well-armed it' I expected 
 to fulfill my promises to HanrahaiL 
 
 The only gun at the Walls that was not 
 in use was a new *'44" Sharp's, which was 
 next hest to a "50." This gun had l)een sj)ok- 
 en for by a hunter who was still out in camp; 
 he was to pay ^1^80 for it, huying it from 
 Langton who was in charge of Rath & 
 Wright's store. Langton told me that if nec- 
 essary he would let me have the gun, as he 
 had ordered a case of guns and was ex- 
 pecting them to arrive any day on the freight 
 train from Dodge City, and he prohahly would 
 
198 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 have them in stock before the owner of the 
 gun came in from the buffalo range. News 
 came in that night, the evening of June 26, 
 1874, that the freight wagons were camped 
 on the flats north of the Walls and, of 
 course, would show up in a day or two. 
 Langton also heard that the man to whom 
 he had promised the gun was not coming 
 for several days, so he hunted me up and 
 told me I might have the gun. 
 
 I went right over to his store and got 
 the "44," together with a full case of am- 
 munition. I was so tickled over my good 
 luck, that I took the gun over to Hanrahan's 
 saloon, to show it to him. After we had 
 looked the gun over, I set it down in the 
 corner for the night, intending to get it when 
 we said good bye to the Walls next morning, 
 headed for our camp on the buffalo range. 
 For some reason which I can not explain, 
 even to myself, I left the case of ammunition 
 with Langton, little dreaming how greatly I 
 would regret my carelessness. 
 
 By this time the excitement and talk 
 about the fate of the four men w^ho had 
 been killed by Indians had subsided, and we 
 paid no further attention to the matter, so 
 busily were we engaged in our preparations 
 for departure. Several hunters had come in 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 199 
 
 that day, and we planned to stay up late that 
 night, celebrating our return to the range, 
 telling stories of past experiences and joking 
 about how much money we would have when 
 the hunt was over. 
 
 The night was sultry and we sat with 
 open doors. In all that vast wilderness, ours 
 were the only lights save the stars that glit- 
 tered above us. There was just a handful of 
 us out there on the Plains, each bound to the 
 other by the common tie of standing together 
 in the face of any danger that threatened us. 
 It was a simple code, but about the best I 
 know of. Outside could be heard at intervals 
 the muffled sounds of the stock moving 
 and stumbling around, or a picketed horse 
 shaking himself as he paused in his hunt 
 for the young grass. In the timber along 
 Adobe Walls Creek to the east owls were 
 hooting. We paid no attention to these 
 things, however, and in our fancied se- 
 curity against all foes frolicked and had 
 a general good time. Hanrahan did a 
 thriving trade. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON that memorable night, June 26, 1874, 
 there were 28 men and one woman at the 
 Walls. The woman was the wife of William 
 Olds. She had come from Dodge City with 
 her husband to open a restaurant in the rear 
 of Rath & Wright's store. Only eight or nine 
 of the men lived at the Walls, the others be- 
 ing buffalo-hunters who by chance happened 
 to be there. There was not the slightest feel- 
 ing of impending danger. 
 
 As was the custom in the buffalo coun- 
 try, most of the men made their beds outside 
 on the ground. I spread my blankets near 
 the blacksmith's shop, close to my wagon. 
 I placed my gun by my side between my 
 blankets, as usual, to protect it from dew and 
 rain. A man's gun and his horse were his 
 two most valuable possessions, next to life, 
 in that country in those days. 
 
 Every door was left wide open, such a 
 thing as locking a door being unheard of at 
 the Walls. One by one the lights were turned 
 out, the tired buffalo-hunters fell asleep, and 
 the Walls were soon wrapped in the stillness 
 of night. 
 
 Late that evening I had gone down on 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 201 
 
 the creek and caught my saddle horse — a 
 better one could not be found — and tied him 
 with a long picket rope to a stake pin near 
 my wagon. 
 
 About 2 o'clock in the morning Shepherd 
 and Mike Welch, who were sleeping in Han- 
 rahan's saloon, were awakened by a report 
 that sounded like the crack of a rifle. They 
 sprang up and discovered that the noise was 
 caused by the big cottonwood ridge pole. 
 
 This ridge pole sustained the weight of 
 the dirt roof, and if the pole should break 
 the roof would collapse and fall in, to the 
 injury or death of those inside. Welch and 
 Shepherd woke up a number of their com- 
 panions to help them repair the roof. Some 
 climbed on top and began throwing off the 
 dirt, while others went down to the creek to 
 cut a prop for the ridge pole. 
 
 This commotion woke up others, and in a 
 little while about fifteen men were helping 
 repair the roof. Providential things usually 
 are mysterious; there has always been some- 
 thing mysterious to me in the loud report 
 that came from that ridge pole in Hanra- 
 han's saloon. It seems strange that it should 
 have happened at the very time it did, in- 
 stead of at noon or some other hour, and, 
 above all, that it should have been loud 
 
Chief Quanah Parker of the Comanches. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 203 
 
 enough to wake men who were fast asleep. 
 Twenty-eight men and one woman would 
 have been slaughtered if the ridge pole in 
 Hanrahan's saloon had not cracked like a 
 rifle shot. 
 
 By the time we had put the prop in 
 place, the sky was growing red in the east, 
 and Hanrahan asked me if I did not think we 
 might as well stay up and get an early start. 
 I agreed, and he sent Billy Ogg down on 
 the creek to get the horses. Some of the 
 men, however, crawled back into bed. The 
 horses were grazing southeast of the build- 
 ings, along Adobe Walls Creek, a quarter of 
 a mile off. 
 
 Turning to my bed, I rolled it up and 
 threw it on the front of my wagon. As I 
 turned to pick up my gun, which lay on the 
 ground, I looked in the direction of our 
 horses. They were in sight. Something else 
 caught my eye. Just beyond the horses, at 
 the edge of some timber, was a large body of 
 objects advancing vaguely in the dusky dawn 
 toward our stock and in the direction of 
 Adobe Walls. Though keen of vision, I could 
 not make out what the objects were, even by 
 straining my eyes. 
 
 Then I was thunderstruck. The black 
 body of moving object suddenly spread out 
 
204 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 like a fan, and from it went up one single, 
 solid yell — a warwhoop that seemed to shake 
 the very air of the early morning. Then 
 came^ the thudding roar of running horses, 
 and the hideous cries of the individual war- 
 riors, each embarked in the onslaught. I 
 could see that hundreds of Indians were com- 
 ing. Had it not been for the ridge pole, all 
 of us would have been asleep. 
 
 In such desperate emergencies, men exert 
 themselves almost automatically to do the 
 needful thing. There is no time to make 
 conscious effort, and if a man lose his head, 
 he shakes hands with death. 
 
 I made a dash for my saddle horse, my 
 first thought being to save him. I never 
 thought for an instant that the oncoming 
 Indians were intending an attack upon the 
 buildings, their purpose being, as I thought, 
 to run off our stock, which they could easily 
 have done by driving it ahead of them. I 
 overlooked the number of Indians, however, 
 or else I might have formed a different opin- 
 ion. 
 
 The first mighty warwhoop had frightened 
 my horse until he was frantic. He was run- 
 ning and lunging on his rope so violently 
 that in one more run he would have pulled 
 up the stake pin and gone to the land of 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 205 
 
 stampeded horses. I managed to grab the 
 rope, and tie my horse to my wagon. 
 
 I then rushed for my gun, and turned to 
 get a few good shots before the Indians could 
 turn to run away. I started to run forward 
 a few steps. Indians running away! They 
 were coming as straight as a bullet toward 
 the buildings, whipping their horses at every 
 jump. 
 
 There was never a more splendidly bar- 
 baric sight. In after years I was glad that I 
 had seen it. Hundreds of warriors, the flower 
 of the fighting men of the southwestern Plains 
 tribes, mounted upon their finest horses, 
 armed with guns and lances, and carrying 
 heavy shields of thick buffalo hide, were com- 
 ing like the wind. Over all was splashed the 
 rich colors of red, vermillion and ochre, on 
 the bodies of the men, on the bodies of the 
 running horses. Scalps dangled from bridles, 
 gorgeous war-bonnets fluttered their plumes, 
 bright feathers dangled from the tails and 
 manes of the horses, and the bronzed, half- 
 naked bodies of the riders glittered with or- 
 naments of silver and brass. Behind this head- 
 long charging host stretched the Plains, on 
 whose horizon the rising sun was lifting its 
 morning fires. The warriors seemed to 
 emerge from this glowing background. 
 
206 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 I must confess, however, that the land- 
 scape possessed little interest for me when I 
 saw that the Indians were coming to attack 
 us, and that they would be at hand in a 
 few moments. War-whooping had a very ap- 
 preciable effect upon the roots of a man's 
 hair. 
 
 I fired one shot, but had no desire to 
 wait and see where the bullet went. I turned 
 and ran as quickly as possible to the near- 
 est building, which happened to be Hanraran's 
 saloon. I found it closed. I certainly felt 
 lonesome. The alarm had spread and the 
 boys were preparing to defend themselves. 
 I shouted to them to let me in. An age 
 seemed to pass before they opened the door 
 and I sprang inside. Bullets were whist- 
 ling and knocking up the dust all around 
 me. Just as the door was opened for me, 
 Billy Ogg ran up and fell inside, so ex- 
 hausted that he could no longer stand. I 
 am confident that if Billy had been timed, 
 his would have been forever the world's 
 record. Billy had made a desperate race, 
 and that he should escape seemed incred- 
 ible. 
 
 We were scarcely inside before the In- 
 dians had surrounded all the buildings and 
 shot out every window pane. When our men 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 207 
 
 saw the Indians coming, they broke for the 
 nearest building at hand, and in this way 
 split up into three parties. They were gath- 
 ered in the different buildings, as follows: 
 
 Hanrahan's Saloon — James Hanrahan, "Bat" 
 Masterson, Mike Welch, Shepherd, Hiram 
 Watson, Billy Ogg, James McKinley, ''Ber- 
 muda" Carlisle, and William Dixon. 
 
 Myers & Leonard's Store — Fred Leonard, 
 James Campbell, Edward Trevor, Frank 
 Brown, Harry Armitage, "Dutch Henry," Bil- 
 ly Tyler, Old Man Keeler, Mike McCabe, Henry 
 Lease, and "Frenchy." 
 
 Rath & Wright's Store— James Longton, 
 George Eddy, Thomas O'Keefe, William Olds 
 and his wife; Sam Smith, and Andy John- 
 son. 
 
 Some of the men were still undressed, 
 but nobody wasted any time hunting their 
 clothes, and many of them fought for their 
 lives all that summer day barefoot and in 
 their night clothes. 
 
 The men in Hanrahan's saloon had a 
 little the best of the others because of the 
 fact that they were awake and up when the 
 alarm was given. In the other buildings 
 some of the boys were sound asleep and it 
 took time for them to barricade the doors 
 and windows before they began fighting. 
 
208 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Barricades were built by piling up sacks of 
 flour and grain, at which some of the men 
 worked while others seized their guns and 
 began shooting at the Indians. 
 
 The number of Indians in this attack has 
 been variously estimated at from 700 to 1,000. 
 I believe that 700 would be a safe guess. 
 The warriors were mostly Kiowas, Chey- 
 ennes and Comanches. The latter were led 
 by their chief Quanah, whose mother was a 
 white woman, Cynthia Ann Parker, captured 
 during a raid by the Comanches in Texas, 
 Big Bow was another formidable Comanche 
 chieftain; Lone Wolf was a leader of the 
 Kiowas, and Little Robe and White Shield, 
 of the Cheyennes. 
 
 For the first half hour the Indians were 
 reckless and daring enough to ride up and 
 strike the doors with the butts of their guns. 
 Finally, the buffalo-hunters all got straight- 
 ened out and were firing with deadly effect. 
 The Indians stood up against this for awhile, 
 but gradually began falling back, as we 
 were emptying buckskin saddles entirely too 
 fast for Indian safety. Our guns had longer 
 range than theirs. Furthermore, the hostiles 
 were having little success — they had killed 
 only two of our men, the Shadier brothers 
 who were caught asleep in their wagon. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 209 
 
 Both were scalped. Their big Newfoundland 
 dog, which always slept at their feet, evi- 
 dently showed fight, as the Indians killed 
 him, and "scalped" him by cutting a piece 
 of hide off his side. The Indians ransacked! 
 the wagon and took all the provisions. The 
 Shadlers were freighters. 
 
 At our first volleys, a good many of the 
 Indians jumped off their horses and prepared 
 for a fight on foot. They soon abandoned 
 this plan; and for good reason. They were 
 the targets of expert rough-and-ready marks- 
 men, and for the Indians to stand in the open 
 meant death. They fell back. 
 
 The Indians exhibited one of their char- 
 acteristic traits. Numbers of them fell, dead 
 or wounded, close to the buildings. In al- 
 most every instance a determined effort was 
 made to rescue the bodies, at the imminent 
 risk of the life of every warrior that at- 
 tempted this feat in front of the booming 
 buffalo-guns. An Indian in those days would 
 quickly endanger his own life to carry a 
 dead or helpless comrade beyond reach of 
 the enemy. I have been told that their zeal 
 was due to some religious belief concerning 
 the scalp-lock — that if a warrior should lose 
 his scalp-lock his spirit would fail to reach 
 the happy hunting grounds. Perhaps far the 
 
 14D 
 
210 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 same reason the Indian always tried to scalp 
 his fallen enemy. 
 
 Time and again, with the fury of a 
 whirlwind, the Indians charged upon the 
 building, only to sustain greater losses than 
 they were able to inflict. This w^as a losing 
 ^ame, and if the Indians kept it up we stood 
 a fair chance of killing most of them. I am 
 sure that we surprised the Indians as badly 
 as they surprised us. They expected to find 
 us asleep, unprepared for an attack. Their 
 "medicine" man had told them that all they 
 would have to do would be to come to Adobe 
 Walls and knock us on the head with sticks, 
 and that our bullets would not be strong 
 enough to break an Indian's skin. The old 
 man was a bad prophet. 
 
 Almost at the beginning of the attack, 
 we were surprised at the sound of a bugle. 
 This bugler was with the Indians, and could 
 blow the different calls as cleverly as the 
 bugler on the parade ground at Fort Dodge. 
 The story was told that he w^as a negro de- 
 serter from the Tenth Cavalry, which I never 
 believed. It is more probable that he was a 
 captive halfbreed Mexican that was known 
 to be living among the Kiowas and Com- 
 anches in the 60's. He had been captured 
 in his boyhood when these Indians were 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 211 
 
 raiding in the Rio Grande country, and grew 
 up among them, as savage and cruel as any 
 of their warriors. How he learned to blow 
 the bugle is unknown. A frontiersman who 
 went with an expedition to the Kiowas in 
 1866 tells of having found a bugler among 
 them at that time. The Kiowas, he said, 
 were able to maneuver to the sound of the 
 bugle. This bugler never approached the 
 white men closely enough to be recognized. 
 
 In the fight at Adobe Walls, the fact 
 was discovered that the Indian warriors were 
 charging to the sound of the bugle. In this 
 they "tipped" their hand, for the calls were 
 understood, and the buffalo-hunters were 
 "loaded for bear" by the time the Indians 
 were within range. "Bat" Masterson, recall- 
 ing this incident long after the fight, said: 
 
 "We had in the building I was in (Han- 
 rahan's saloon), two men who had served in 
 the United States army, and understood all 
 the bugle calls. The first call blown was a 
 rally, which our men instantly understood. 
 The next was a charage, and that also was 
 understood, and immediately the Indians 
 come rushing forward to a fresh attack. 
 Every bugle call he blew was understood by 
 the ex-soldiers and were carried out to the 
 
212 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 letter by the Indians, showing that the bugler 
 had the Indians thoroughly drilled. 
 
 "The bugler was killed late in the after- 
 noon of the first day's fighting as he was run- 
 ning away from a wagon owned by the Shad- 
 ier brothers, both of whom were killed in 
 this same wagon. The bugler had his bugle 
 wdth him at the time he was shot by Harry 
 Armitage. Also he was carrying a tin can 
 filled with sugar and another filled with 
 ground coffee, one under each arm. Armit- 
 age shot him through the back with a 50- 
 caliber Sharp's rifle, as he was making his 
 escape." 
 
 Billy Tyler and Fred Leonard went into 
 the stockade, but were compelled to retreat, 
 the Indians firing at them through the open- 
 ings between the stockade pickets. Just as 
 Tyler was entering the door of the adobe 
 store, he turned to fire, and was struck by 
 a bullet that penetrated his lungs. He lived 
 about half an hour after he was dragged 
 into the store. 
 
 The Indians were not without military 
 tactics in trying to recover their dead and 
 wounded. While one band would pour a 
 hot fire into the buildings, other Indians on 
 horseback would run forward under the pro- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 213 
 
 tection of this fusilade. They succeeded in 
 dragging away a good many of the fallen. 
 
 Once during a charge I noticed an In- 
 dian riding a white horse toward where an- 
 other Indian had gone down in the tall 
 grass. The latter jumped up behind the In- 
 dian on the horse, and both started at full 
 speed for safety. A rifle cracked and a bul- 
 let struck the horse, breaking one of its hind 
 legs. We could see the blood streaming 
 down the horse's leg. Both Indians began 
 whipping the poor brute and, lurching and 
 staggering on three legs, he carried them 
 away. 
 
 By noon the Indians had ceased charg- 
 ing, and had stationed themselves in groups 
 in diiferent places, maintaining a more or 
 less steady fire all day on the buildings. 
 Sometimes the Indians would fire especially 
 heavy volleys, whereupon wounded Indians 
 would leap from the grass and run as far 
 as they could and then drop down in the 
 grass again. In this manner a number es- 
 caped. 
 
 Along about 10 o'clock, the Indians hav- 
 ing fallen back at a safer distance from the 
 buffalo-guns, some of us noticed a pony 
 standing near the corner of a big stack of 
 buffalo hides at the rear of Bath's building. 
 
214 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 We could see that an Indian behind the 
 hides was holding the pony by the bridle, 
 so we shot the pony and it fell dead. The 
 pony was gaily decorated with red calico 
 plaited in its mane. 
 
 The falling of the pony left the Indian 
 somewhat exposed to our fire, and the boys 
 at Hanrahan's and Rath's opened upon him 
 full blast. They certainly "fogged" him. No 
 Indian ever danced a livelier jig. We kept 
 him jumping like a flea back and forth be- 
 hind the pile of hides, 
 
 I had got possession of a big "50" gun 
 early in the light, and was making consid- 
 erable noise with it. I sized up what was 
 going on behind the pile of buffalo hides, 
 and took careful aim at the place where I 
 thought the Indian was crouched. I shot 
 through one corner of the hides. It looked 
 to me as if that Indian jumped six feet 
 straight up into the air, howling with pain. 
 Evidently I had hit him. He ran zig-zag 
 fashion for thirty or forty yards, howling at 
 every jump, and dropped down in the tall 
 grass. Indians commonly ran in this man- 
 ner when under fire, to prevent our getting a 
 bead on them. 
 
 I managed to get hold of the "50" gun 
 in this manner. The ammunition for mine 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 215 
 
 was in Rath's store, which none of us was 
 in the habit of visiting at that particular 
 moment. I had noticed that Shepherd, Han- 
 rahan's bartender, was banging around with 
 Hanrahan's big "50," but not making much 
 use of it, as he was badly excited. 
 
 "Here, Jim," I said to Hanrahan, "I see 
 you are without a gun; take this one." 
 
 I gave him mine. I then told "Shep." to 
 give me the "50." He was so glad to turn 
 Iqose of it, and handed it to me so quickly 
 that he almost dropped it. I had the repu- 
 tation of being a good shot and it was rather 
 to the interest of all of us that I should have 
 a powerful gun. 
 
 We had no way of telling what was 
 happening to the men in the other buildings, 
 and they were equally ignorant of what was 
 happening to us. Not a man in our building 
 had been hit: I could never see how we 
 escaped, for at times the bullets poured in 
 like hail and made us hug the sod walls like 
 gophers when a hawk was swooping past. 
 
 By this time there were a large num- 
 ber of wounded horses standing near the 
 buildings. A horse' gives up quickly when 
 in pain, and these made no effort to get 
 away. Even those that were at a consider- 
 able distance from the buildings when they 
 
216 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 received their wounds came to us, as if seek- 
 ing our help and sympathy. It was a pitiable 
 sight, and touched our hearts, for the boys 
 loved their horses. I noticed that horses that 
 had been wounded while grazing in the val- 
 ley also came to the buildings, where they 
 stood helpless and bleeding or dropped down 
 and died. 
 
 We had been pouring a pile of bullets 
 from our stronghold, and about noon were 
 running short of ammunition. Hanrahan 
 and I decided that it was time to replenish 
 our supply, and that we would have to make 
 a run for Rath's store, where there were 
 thousands of rounds which had been brought 
 from Dodge City for the buffalo-hunters. 
 
 We peered cautiously outside to see if 
 any Indians were ambushed where they could 
 get a pot shot at us. The coast looked clear, 
 so we crawled out of a window and hit the 
 ground running, running like jack-rabbits, 
 and made it to Rath's in the fastest kind of 
 time. The Indians saw us, however, before 
 the boys could open the door, and opened at 
 long range. The door framed a good target. 
 I have no idea how many guns were cracking 
 away at us, but I do know that bullets rattled 
 round us like hail. Providence seemed to 
 be looking after the boys at Adobe Walls 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 217 
 
 that day, and we got inside without a scratch, 
 though badly winded. 
 
 We found everybody at Rath's in good 
 shape. We remained here some time. Nat- 
 urally, Hanrahan wanted to return to his 
 own building, and he proposed that we try 
 to make our way back. There were fewer 
 men at Rath's than at any other place, and 
 their anxiety was increased by the presence 
 of a woman, Mrs. Olds. If the latter fact 
 should be learned by the Indians there was 
 no telling what they might attempt, and a 
 determined attack by the Indians would have 
 meant death for everybody in the store, for 
 none would have suffered themselves to be 
 taken alive nor permitted Mrs. Olds to be 
 captured. 
 
 The boys begged me to stay with them. 
 Hanrahan finally said that he was going back 
 to his own place, telling me that I could do 
 as I thought best. Putting most of his am- 
 munition into a sack, we opened the door 
 quickly for him, and away he went, doing 
 his level best all the way to his saloon, which 
 he reached without mishap. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN the restaurant part of Rath's store, a 
 transom had been cut over the west door; 
 this transom was open, as no glass had even 
 been put in. This door had been strongly 
 barricaded with sacks of flour and grain, one 
 of the best breastworks imaginable, the In- 
 dians having no guns that could shoot 
 through it. 
 
 Climbing to the top of this barricade, to 
 take a good look over the ground west of the 
 building, I saw an object crawling along in 
 the edge of the tall grass. Levelling my gun, 
 and taking aim with my body resting on one 
 knee, I fired. The recoil was so great that I 
 lost my balance and tumbled backward froni 
 the top of the barricade. As I went down I 
 struck and dislodged a washtub and a bushel 
 or two of cooking utensils which made a 
 terrific crash as they struck the floor around 
 me. I fell heavily myself, and the tumbling 
 down of my big "50" did not lessen the up- 
 roar. The commotion startled everybody. The 
 boys rushed forward believing that I had 
 been shot, even killed. I found it quite dif- 
 ficult to convince them that I had not been 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 219 
 
 shot, and that most of the noise had been 
 caused by the tub and the tin pans. 
 
 I was greatly interested in the object I 
 had shot at, so I crawled up on the sacks 
 again. By looking closely, I was able to see 
 the object move. I now fired a second time, 
 and was provoked at seeing the bullet kick 
 up the dirt just beyond the object. I tried 
 the third time and made a center shot. 
 
 By 2 o'clock the Indians had fallen back 
 to the foot of the hills and were firing only 
 at intervals. They had divided their force, 
 putting part on the west side and part on 
 the east side of the buildings. Warriors 
 were riding more or less constantly across 
 the valley from one side to the other, which 
 exposed them to our fire. So we began 
 picking them off. They were soon riding in 
 a much bigger circle, and out of range. 
 
 This lull in the fighting was filled with 
 a kind of disturbing uncertainty. Since early 
 morning, we had been able to hold the enemy 
 at bay. We were confident that we could 
 continue to do so as long as we had ammu- 
 nition. We thanked our stars that we were 
 behind thick adobe walls, instead of thin pine 
 boards. We could not have saved ourselves 
 had the buildings been frame, such as were 
 commonly built in frontier towns in those 
 
220 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 days. Still, there was no telling how des- 
 perate the Indians might become, rather than 
 abandon the fight; it was easily possible for 
 them to overwhelm us with the brute force 
 of superior numbers by pressing the attack 
 until they had broken down the doors, and 
 which probably would have been attempted, 
 however great the individual sacrifice, had 
 the enemy been white men. Luckily, it was 
 impossible to set the adobes on fire, or else 
 we should have been burned alive. 
 
 Though we did not relax in watchful- 
 ness when the Indians withdrew, yet we were 
 able to throw off some of the high tension 
 that had kept our nerves and muscles as 
 taut as bowstrings since daybreak. A man's 
 mouth gets dry and his saliva thick and 
 sticky when he fights hour after hour, know- 
 ing that if he goes down his death will be 
 one of torture, unless he should be instantly 
 killed. All forenoon the Indians had been 
 descending upon us like a storm, taunting 
 us in every imaginable way, even pounding 
 upon the doors with their guns and lances, 
 and vying with each other in feats of martial 
 horsemanship. They had flaunted the bloody 
 scalps of the poor Shadlers with devilish 
 glee. Time and again, however, we had rip- 
 ped into them with our guns and brought 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 221 
 
 down horses and warriors until in many 
 places the grass around Adobe Walls was 
 wet with blood. 
 
 About 4 o'clock in the afternoon a young 
 fellow at Hanrahan's, "Bermuda" Carlisle, 
 ventured out to pick up an Indian trinket 
 which he could see from the window. As 
 he was not shot at, he went out a second 
 time, whereupon others began going out, all 
 eager to find relics. For the first time, we 
 now heard of the death of Billy Tyler at 
 Leonard & Myer's. Tyler had been killed at 
 the beginning of the fight, as had the Shad- 
 lers. 
 
 When I saw that it was possible to leave 
 the buildings with reasonable safety, I de- 
 termined to satisfy my curiosity about three 
 things. 
 
 An iron-gray horse had been standing 
 for hours not far from the south window of 
 Hanrahan's saloon. I could not understand 
 what had held him so long, before he was 
 finally shot by the Indians themselves. When I 
 reached the carcass, the mystery was clear — 
 there lay a dead warrior who had fallen in 
 such a way as to make fast the rope that 
 held the horse. The horse wore a silver- 
 mounted bridle.. With a buffalo bone I pried 
 
222 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 open tthe stiffened jaws and removed the 
 bridle, also taking the rawhide lariat. 
 
 On one of the reins, about ten inches 
 from the bit, was fastened a scalp, which 
 evidently had been taken from the head of a 
 white woman, the hair being dark brown in 
 color and about fifteen inches in length. The 
 scalp was lined with cloth and edged with 
 beads. Several other scalps were found that 
 day. One was on a war shield. 
 
 My attention likewise had been attracted 
 by an object at the rear of the little sod 
 house west of Rath's store. We had fired 
 at it over and over until we had cut a gap 
 in the corner of the sod house. The object 
 finally had disappeared from sight. For a 
 considerable time we had seen feathers whip- 
 ping round the corner in the wind, and had 
 thought that probably three or four Indians 
 were concealed there. Every time I had 
 turned loose my big '50" I had torn out a 
 chunk of sod. 
 
 When I reached the sod house, I was 
 startled at what I saw. There sat a painted 
 and feathered warrior in a perfectly upright 
 position with his legs crossed and his head 
 turned to one side in the most natural way 
 imaginable. His neck was broken and he 
 was as dead as they ever made 'em. I am 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 223 
 
 bound to admit that I jumped back, fearful 
 that he was alive and would bore me through 
 and through before I could pull down on 
 him. 
 
 What we had been shooting at so fre- 
 quently was the dead warrior's lance, which 
 was covered with webbing and adorned with 
 black feathers at intervals of every five or 
 six inches. The lance had been stuck up- 
 right in the ground, and had been shot in 
 two, which caused the feathers to disappear — 
 the upper part had doubled over across the 
 dead Indian's legs. I added the lance to my 
 "prizes of war." 
 
 The object that I had seen crawling 
 along the edge of the tall grass was the 
 third that demanded my attention. I found 
 a dead Indian lying flat on his stomach. He 
 was naked, save for a white cloth wrapped 
 round his hips. His six-shooter was in his 
 belt. The Indian had been shot through the 
 body, and one knee had been shattered. I 
 could plainly see the trail he had made by 
 the blood on the grass. A short distance 
 away lay a shot pouch and a powder horn; 
 there were about fifteen army cartridges in 
 the pouch. A few steps further, was his 50- 
 caliber needle gun, an army Springfield. Next, 
 
224 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 were his bow and his quiver. I confiscated 
 the whole outfit. 
 
 One of the noisiest and most active spec- 
 tators of the fight was a young crow which 
 some of the hunters had captured shortly 
 after our arrival at Adobe Walls. The crow 
 had been petted by every man in camp. All 
 of us were acquainted with the old super- 
 stition that the crow is an omen of death. 
 During the worst of the fight this crow flew 
 from one building to another, in and out of 
 the open windows, calling "Caw! Caw! Caw!" 
 in the most dismal way. It would alight on 
 some object in the room, and sit there call- 
 ing and cawing until somebody, tiring of the 
 noise, would shout, "Get out of here, you 
 black rascal!" and then chase him from the 
 building. The crow would fly to another 
 building and repeat his performance. De- 
 spite the bullets, this crow was never injured 
 and, save our horses, was the only thing left 
 outside. 
 
 There were several dogs at the Walls, 
 but all of them cut for tall timber when the 
 fighting began and did not show up for sev- 
 eral days. All our horses were killed or 
 run off. The five horses that had been left 
 in the stockade were quickly shot down, the 
 Indians poking their guns between the cot- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 225 
 
 tonwood pickets. Four head tied to a wagon 
 near Rath's were cruelly killed. I saw the 
 Indians when they first rode up and tried 
 to cut the rope with a butcher knife. One 
 was a gray mare that was notorious for her 
 vicious kicking. She would not let the In- 
 dians approach her, so all were shot. My 
 own saddle horse, which I had owned for 
 years and highly prized, was among the first 
 to be shot, and still lay tied to the wagon 
 when I found him. 
 
 The Indians were not without military 
 strategy. They had planned to put every 
 man of us afoot, thereby leaving us without 
 means of escape and powerless to send for aid 
 save as some messenger might steal away in 
 the darkness, to traverse on foot the weary 
 distance and the dangerous and inhospitable 
 region that lay between us and Dodge City. 
 By holding us constantly at bay and keep- 
 ing fresh detachments of warriors rallying 
 to the attack they probably thought it possi- 
 ble to exhaust our strength, and then over- 
 whelm us. It should be remembered that 
 Adobe Walls was scarcely more than a lone 
 island in the vast sea of the Plains, a solitary 
 refuge uncharted and practically unknown. 
 For the time we were at the end of the 
 world, our desperate extremity pressing 
 
 15D 
 
226 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 heavily upon us, and our friends and com- 
 rades to the north ignorant of what was 
 taking place. 
 
 At the first dash, the Indians had driven 
 off all the horses they had found grazing in 
 the little valley, and which Billy Ogg had 
 gone in the dusk of dawn to round up pre- 
 paratory to our departure for the hunting 
 grounds. We counted fifty-six dead horses 
 scattered in the immediate vicinity of the 
 buildings, some with arrows sticking in their 
 bodies, and others bored with bullets. Of 
 these ten head belonged to the hunters. 
 Added to this slaughter were the twenty- 
 eight head of oxen that belonged to the 
 Shadier brothers. In nearly every instance, 
 a horse that had been wounded far from the 
 buildings would stagger in our direction, ap- 
 parently to get as close as possible to his 
 friends. There they would stand in agony 
 until the Indians shot them down, which 
 happened in every instance. 
 
 The last victim of their cruelty was a 
 mustang colt owned by Mrs. Olds. This colt 
 had been captured by some of the hunters 
 among a bunch of wild mustangs, and given 
 as a present to Mrs. Olds who had petted the 
 graceful, affectionate little creature until it 
 followed her from place to place like a 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 227 
 
 dog. Some rather romantic stories have been 
 written about this mustang colt and the part 
 it played in the fight at Adobe Walls. The 
 truth, however, unadorned, is the colt re- 
 mained near the buildings throughout the 
 fight, and when I saw it a feathered arrow 
 was sticking in its back. I never knew 
 whether the colt died of this wound or was 
 afterwards shot to put the poor little thing 
 out of its misery. 
 
 When we found that we could move 
 around outside the buildings without danger 
 of immediate attack, we blanketed the bodies 
 of Tyler and the Shadlers and dug a single 
 grave near the north side of the corral. 
 There they lie to this day, without a stone 
 to mark the spot. Many a spring and many 
 a summer have come and gone, and many a 
 winter has sent its blinding snows across the 
 Panhandle since that far-off day. The In- 
 dians and the buffaloes have vanished from 
 the scene, and the plow is running over the 
 land where they ranged. After all, the boys 
 are sleeping as quietly and as restfully as 
 if they had been buried in the village church- 
 yard back at their old homes. 
 
 Despite the utmost efforts of our savage 
 foes to carry away their dead and wounded, 
 thirteen dead Indians were left on the ground 
 
228 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 near the buildings, so closely under the muz- 
 zles of our guns that it would have been 
 suicide for their comrades to have attempted 
 their recovery. By the time we had buried 
 our three comrades, darkness had come, and 
 we abandoned further outside work and re- 
 turned to the protection of the buildings, 
 completely exhausted by the strain and ex- 
 citement of the day's fighting. 
 
 What we had experienced ate into a 
 man's nerves. I doubt if any of us slept 
 soundly that June night. Somewhere out 
 there in the darkness our enemies were 
 watching to see that nobody escaped from 
 the beleagured adobe buildings. Inasmuch 
 as Indians rarely, if ever, attack at night, 
 preferring the shadows of early morning 
 when sleep is soundest, and when there 
 is less chance of their being ambushed, 
 we felt reasonably certain of not being at- 
 tacked before daybreak. As for myself I 
 dreamed all night, the bloody scenes of the 
 day passing in endless procession through my 
 mind — I could see the Indians charging across 
 the valley, hear the roar of the guns and 
 the blood-curdling war-whoops, until every- 
 thing was a bewildering swirl of fantastic 
 colors and movements. 
 
 All my comrades at Adobe Walls that 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 229 
 
 day showed much courage. It is with pride 
 that I can recall its many incidents without 
 the feeling that there was the slightest inclin- 
 ation on the part of any man to show the 
 "white feather." To be nervous or fearful 
 of death is no sign of weakness — sticking at 
 one's post and doing the thing that is to be 
 done is what counts. 
 
 "Bat" Masterson should be remembered 
 for the valor that marked his conduct. He 
 was a good shot, and not afraid. He has 
 worked his way up in the world, and has 
 long been a successful writer for a New 
 York newspaper. He was sheriff of Ford 
 county, Kansas, at Dodge City, in 1876-77. It 
 has always seemed strange to me that finally 
 he should prefer life in a big city, after 
 having lived in the west. I have been told 
 that he has said that he had no wish again 
 to live over those old days, that they no longer 
 appealed to him, but I never believed it. 
 Such a thing is contrary to human nature. 
 
 All that long night after the first day's 
 fighting not a sound was heard nor did an 
 Indian come near. Next morning the pet 
 crow was the only living object to be seen in 
 the valley, where he was holding high car- 
 nival on the dead horses, flying from one car- 
 cass to another. 
 
230 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 By this lime such an awful stench was ' 
 rising from the dead Indians and dead horses 
 that we were forced to get rid of them. As 
 we had no teams with which to drag them 
 away, we rigged up several buffalo hides and 
 tied ropes to them, then rolled the bodies 
 onto the hides and pulled them far enough 
 away to prevent the evil smell from 
 reaching the buildings. In this way three or 
 four men could move a horse. 
 
 At one place, between Rath's and Han- 
 rahan's, twelve horses lay piled together. We 
 dug a pit close at hand and rolled them in. 
 The other horses and the Indians were drag- 
 ged off on the prairie and left to the coy- 
 otes and buzzards. 
 
 On the second day we saw only one 
 bunch of Indians. They were on a bluff 
 across the valley east of us. Some of our 
 men opened up on them at long range; the 
 Indians returned the fire and disappeared. 
 It was plain to them that there was still a 
 lot of fight left in us. 
 
 Our situation looked rather gloomy. 
 With every horse dead or captured, we felt 
 pretty sore all round. The Indians were 
 somewhere close at hand, watching our every 
 movement. We were depressed with the 
 melancholy feeling that probably all the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 231 
 
 hunters out in the camps had been killed. 
 ?^ate that afternoon our spirits leaped up 
 when we saw a team coming up the valley 
 from the direction of the Canadian. This 
 outfit belonged to George Bellfield, a German 
 who had been a soldier in the Civil War. 
 
 A black flag was flying from one of the 
 buildings, and when Bellfield and his com- 
 panions saw it they thought we were playing 
 some kind of joke on them. In broken 
 English Bellfield remarked to his men, "Dem 
 fellers link day's damn smart, alretty." But 
 when he drew nearer and began seeing the 
 dead horses, he put the whip to his team and 
 came in at a dead run. 
 
 When asked if they had been attacked 
 by Indians, Bellfield and his men said that 
 they had not seen a sign of one. That same 
 day Jim and Bob Cator came in from their 
 camp north of Adobe Walls. 
 
 It was of greatest importance that some- 
 body should go to Dodge City for help. 
 Henry Lease, a buffalo hunter, volunteered 
 to undertake this dangerous journey, Bell- 
 field furnishing a horse. Lease started after 
 dark on the second day. He carefully ex- 
 amined his pistols and his big "50," filled his 
 belts with plenty of ammunition, shook hands 
 with us and rode away in the night. I doubt 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 233 
 
 if there was a man who believed that Lease 
 would get through alive. It was a certainty, 
 however, that there would be a pile of dead 
 Indians where he fell, if he were given a 
 fighting chance for his life. 
 
 At the same time we sent out two men 
 to visit the different camps, and warn the 
 hunters that the Indians were on the war 
 path. They were to bring back the news if 
 the hunters were dead. 
 ^ On the third day a party of about fifteen 
 Indians appeared on the side of the bluff, 
 east of Adobe Walls Greek, and some of the 
 boys suggested that I try my big "50" on 
 them. The distance was not far from three- 
 fourths of a mile. A number of exaggerated 
 accounts have been written about this in- 
 cident. I took careful aim and pulled the 
 trigger. We saw an Indian fall from his 
 horse. The others dashed out of sight be- 
 hind a clump of timber. A few moments 
 later two Indians ran quickly on foot to 
 where the dead Indian lay, seized his body 
 and scurried to cover. They had risked 
 their lives, as we had frequently observed, 
 to rescue a comrade who might be not only 
 wounded but dead. I was admittedly a good 
 marksman, yet this was what might be called 
 a "scratch" shot. 
 
234 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 More hunters came in on the third day, 
 and as news of the Indian outbreak spread 
 from camp to camp the boys were soon com- 
 ing in hke blackbirds from all directions — 
 and they lost no time making the trip. By 
 the sixth day there were fully a hundred 
 men at the Walls, which may have given rise 
 to the statement so frequently made in after 
 years that all these men were in the fight. 
 
 The lone woman who was at Adobe 
 Walls, Mrs. Olds, was as brave as the bravest. 
 She knew only too well how horrible her 
 fate would be if she should fall into the 
 hands of the Indians, and under such cir- 
 cumstances it would have caused no surprise 
 had she gone into the wildest hysterics. But 
 all that first day, when the hand of death 
 seemed to be reaching from every direction, 
 this pioneer woman was cool and composed 
 and lent a helping hand in every emergency. 
 
 By the fifth day enough hunters had ar- 
 rived to make us feel comparatively safe, yet 
 it was expedient that we should protect our- 
 selves as fully as possible, so the men began 
 fortifying the buildings. None of them had 
 been finished, nor had any port-holes been 
 cut in the walls. Our shooting was done 
 from the windows and transoms. With port- 
 holes we could have killed many more In- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 235 
 
 dians. A little inclosure with sod walls was 
 now built on top of Rath's store, and an- 
 other on top of Myer's for lookouts. A lad- 
 der led from the inside to these lookouts. 
 
 On the fifth day William Olds was sta- 
 tioned in the lookout on Rath's store, to 
 watch for Indians while the other men were 
 at work. The lookout on the other build- 
 ings shouted that Indians were coming, and 
 all of us ran for our guns and for shelter 
 inside the buildings. Just as I entered Rath's 
 store I saw Olds coming down the ladder 
 with his gun in his hand. A moment later 
 his gun went off accidentally, tearing off the 
 top of Old's head. At the same instant Mrs. 
 Olds rushed from an adjoining room — in 
 time to see the body of her husband roll 
 from the ladder and crumple at her feet, a 
 torrent of blood gushing from the terrible 
 wound. Olds died instantly. Gladly would I 
 have faced all the Indians from the Cimar- 
 ron to Red River, rather than have witnessed 
 this terrible scene. It seemed to me that it 
 would have been better for any other man 
 there to have been taken than the husband 
 of the only woman among us. Her grief 
 was intense and pitiable. A rough lot of 
 men, such as we were, did not know how to 
 comfort a woman in such distress. We did 
 
236 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 the best we could, and if we did it awkward- 
 ly, it should not be set down against us. Had 
 we been called upon to fight for her, we 
 would not have asked about the odds, but 
 would have sailed in, tooth and toe-nail. 
 When we tried to speak to her we just 
 choked up and stood still. We buried Olds 
 that same evening, about sixty feet from the 
 spot where he was killed, just southeast of 
 Rath's store. 
 
 The Indians that had caused the alarm 
 numbered between twenty-five and thirty, 
 and were up the valley of Adobe Walls Greek 
 headed east. Finally, they disappeared, and 
 we did not see them again. They may not 
 have belonged to the attacking party, and 
 were merely passing through the country. 
 
 I always regretted that I did not keep 
 the relics I picked up at Adobe Walls. Mrs. 
 Olds asked me for the lance when I returned 
 to the building, and I gave it to her. The 
 other relics I took to Dodge City, and gave 
 them away to first one person and then 
 another. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE warriors that attacked Adobe Walls 
 made an extensive raid. Writing from 
 Cheyenne Agency, at Darlington, in Sep- 
 tember, 1874, a Government employee gave 
 this information to the Commissioner of In- 
 dian Affairs: 
 
 "We are informed by Little Robe, White 
 Shield, and other Cheyennes that Lone Wolf, 
 a Kiowa chief, was the first to commence the 
 present Indian trouble, by going with a band 
 of his warriors on a raid into Texas. Big 
 Bow, a Comanche, soon followed. After 
 these parties returned the Kiowas, Comanches, 
 and Cheyennes made the attack upon Adobe 
 Walls. After that fight the combined forces 
 separated into a number of war parties; some 
 went into Texas, others into New Mexico and 
 Colorado, and still others along the Fort 
 Sill and Wichita Railroad and the Kansas 
 border. We have had well-authenticated ac- 
 counts from Indians and from other sources 
 that the number of individuals killed in New 
 Mexico amounted to 40; Colorado, 60; Lone 
 Wolfs first raid into Texas, 7; Big Bow's 
 first raid into Texas, 4; the Adobe Walls 
 fight, 3; southwest from Camp Supply, buff a- 
 
238 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 lo-hunters, 3; between Gamp Supply and 
 Dodge, buffalo-hunters, 5; in the vicinity of 
 Medicine Lodge and Sun City, 12; on Crooked 
 Creek, 2; on the trail north from Cheyenne 
 Agency, 5; on the Atchison, Topeka & Santa 
 Fe Railroad, 4; Washita and Fort Sill agen- 
 cies and vicinity, 14; Dr. Holloway's son, 
 Cheyenne Agency, 1; Mr. Dougherty, beef 
 contractor for these three agencies reports 
 at least thirty persons recently killed in Tex- 
 as, 30; total, 190. 
 
 "White Shield this day informed me that 
 the Kiowa chief. White Horse, on his last 
 raid into Texas killed eleven persons and 
 captured three children. The children, he 
 states, are now in the Kiowa camps. White 
 Shield says he has heard of several other 
 captives with the Comanches and Kiowas, 
 but these three mentioned are all he has 
 seen." 
 
 It has been said that the Indians aban- 
 doned the tight because of the wounding of 
 Quanah Parker, the Comanche chief, and 
 again because the "medicine" man found that 
 his "medicine" was bad. To be more exact, 
 the Indians probably came to the conclusion 
 that if they remained long enough, charged 
 often enough and got close enough, all of 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 239 
 
 them would be killed, as they were unable 
 to dislodge us from the buildings. 
 
 In the fall of 1877, many of the Gom- 
 anches became dissatisfied with their life on 
 the military reservation at Fort Sill and fled 
 to their old home on the Staked Plains. Chas. 
 Goodnight was running his cattle in the lower 
 end of Pala Duro, and the Gomanches were 
 soon killing beef. When he heard of it, he 
 mounted his horse and rode down to where 
 they were and made a private peace treaty 
 with them, agreeing to give them two beeves 
 a day as long as they remained, if they 
 would not raid his herd. His proposal was 
 accepted, and the compact was kept until 
 the soldiers arrived and compelled the Gom- 
 anches to return to their reservation. 
 
 I met Quanah at that time, having gone 
 out with the troops. As we were riding along 
 one day, he began talking about the fight at 
 the Walls. When I told him that I was 
 one of the men that had fought against him, 
 he leaned over on his horse and shook my 
 hand. We became good friends. 
 
 A number of different stories have been 
 related about Quanah's mishaps in the fight. 
 A man who knew him well in later years 
 said that Quanah told him that early in the 
 fight on the first day his horse was shot and 
 
240 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 killed at a distance of between 400 and 500 
 yards from the buildings. The horse fell 
 suddenly, pitching Quanah headlong to the 
 ground his gun falling from his grasp and 
 bounding away. When Quanah saw that his 
 horse was dead, he took shelter behind an old 
 buffalo carcass over which wood-rats had piled 
 Aveeds and grass, making a heap about waist 
 high. Then something happened that Qua- 
 nah was never able to explain. He was 
 struck a terrific blow between his shoulder 
 blade and his neck. He was badly stunned 
 but managed to gain his feet and ran and 
 hid himself in a plum thicket. At first he 
 thought somebody had hit him with a heavy 
 stone, but as only his own men could have 
 done this, he abandoned this notion and 
 concluded that he had been hit by a spent 
 or deflected bullet. His right shoulder was 
 useless most of the day, and he could raise 
 his gun with difficulty. He left the battle- 
 ground by riding behind another Indian. 
 
 Had it not been for the cracking of the 
 Cottonwood ridge pole in Hanrahan's saloon, 
 the Indians would have come upon us un- 
 awares and all of us would have been killed, 
 yet we never could find a single thing wrong 
 with the log. Every hunter that came in 
 after the fight, as well as every man at the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 241 
 
 Walls, examined that cottonwood ridge log 
 over and over to find the break, but it could 
 not be found. The two men who were sleep- 
 ing in the building declared that the noise 
 sounded like the report of a rifle. 
 
 The fight at Adobe Walls broke up buf- 
 falo-hunting in that section just as the In- 
 dians had planned. This was the last buffa- 
 lo-hunting I ever did as a business. Hanra- 
 han owned a big outfit and lost everything. 
 
 We were now so strong in numbers and 
 so many days had passed without the com- 
 ing of relief from Dodge that we organized 
 a party of about twenty-five men to go up 
 there and find out why help was not coming. 
 Jim Hanrahan, the oldest man among us, was 
 placed in command. It had now been about 
 a week since the fight. 
 
 A serious row was barely averted the 
 night before we pulled out for Dodge. Guns 
 were scarce, and after the death of Olds 
 "Bat" Masterson had borrowed the Olds gun, 
 a better gun than the one used by Masterson 
 who had lent his gun to another man. When 
 it was learned that we were going to Dodge, 
 Mrs. Olds sent for her husband's gun. "Bat" 
 sent back word that he wanted to keep the 
 gun until morning, promising that he would 
 promptly return it at that time. This was 
 
 16D 
 
242 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 not agreeable to Mrs. Olds, and she sent a 
 man named Brown to Hanrahan's to get 
 the gun without further talk, as she feared 
 that she might lose the gun. 
 
 Brown made a few mistakes in his lan- 
 guage in discussing the matter with Hanra- 
 han, the latter having said several times that 
 he would be personally responsible for the 
 gun and would guarantee that it was re- 
 turned to Mrs. Olds. Brown crowded matters 
 until Hanrahan grabbed him by the neck, 
 shook him as a bulldog would a rabbit, and 
 then threw Brown out of the saloon, saying, 
 
 "Get out of my building, you , "! 
 
 Hanrahan drew his own gun and had Brown 
 covered, ready to pull the trigger, which I 
 believe he would have done, if several of us 
 had not disarmed him, and then reasoned 
 with him not to go any further, because if 
 shooting began there was no telling what 
 might happen, as both men had friends. Next 
 morning "Bat" returned the gun to Mrs. 
 Olds. 
 
 The row spread ill feeling among a num- 
 ber of the men, and though blood that had 
 been spilt in fighting for each other was 
 scarcely dry on the ground, yet some were 
 now ready to begin fighting each other. This 
 was the way of the west in those times — 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 243 
 
 every tub had to stand on its own bottom 
 every minute of the day. It was the code 
 that every able-bodied man had to live by. 
 If, however, a man should fall sick or be 
 in bad luck or crippled, the boys stuck to 
 him until he was able to take care of him- 
 self. The quarrel caused a little embarrass- 
 ment to me, for as we rode away next morn- 
 ing and were passing Leonard & Myers store, 
 Ihe men there yelled out, "Goodbye, we don't 
 care for any of you leaving, except Billy 
 Dixon." 
 
 We went up Short Greek until we got 
 out on the Plains, where we left the main- 
 traveled freight road and bore more to the 
 west, as we felt that the Indians might be 
 watching this main road. We made it to the 
 head of the Palo Duro the first day and went 
 into camp. By making a long ride our next 
 camp was San Francisco Greek. Here we 
 found where buffalo-hunters had built a 
 camp, and the body of Gharley Sharp, who 
 had been killed by the Indians. He had been 
 dead about a week, and the body was shock- 
 ingly mutilated. Sharp was a partner of 
 Henry Lease, and had remained in camp 
 while Lease went to Adobe Walls for sup- 
 plies. Sharp bore the nickname "Dublin." 
 Sharp's Greek in Beaver County, Oklahoma, 
 
244 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 bears his name. We buried the body where 
 we found it. 
 
 Bearing to the nortlieast, we came into 
 the Dodge City and Adobe Walls road at the 
 Cimarron River. Another day's ride brought 
 us to Crooked Creek. We were now out of 
 dangerous country, and reached Dodge City 
 safe and sound. 
 
 Ours was the first crowd to reach Dodge 
 City after the tight at Adobe Walls, and the 
 whole town turned out to see us. Everybody 
 was anxious to learn the particulars, and we 
 were asked thousands of questions. News of 
 what had happened at the Walls had driven 
 most of the bufifalo-hunters to Dodge City, 
 their camps stretching up and down the Ar- 
 kansas near town. 
 
 We learned that a relief party, composed 
 of buffalo-hunters and residents of Dodge, 
 had started south in command of Tom Nixon. 
 There were about forty men in the party. 
 Nixon was killed a year or two later by 
 "Mysterious Dave" Mathews. He was a well- 
 known frontiersman. 
 
 We did not take life nor ourselves very 
 seriously those days, and were soon enter- 
 ing into the fun at Dodge with the greatest 
 enthusiasm, forgetful of the perils and hard- 
 ships that so lately beset us. Things at Dodge 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 245 
 
 were run for the fullest enjoyment of the 
 present — there was not much material to oc- 
 cupy students of ancient history. The town 
 had changed little since we had gone away. 
 Several of the men who had come north 
 from the Walls went straight to the depot 
 and bought tickets for their homes in the 
 east. They had enough of the Indians to last 
 them several years, and were not ashamed to 
 stand up and say so. Most of us were "lo- 
 coed" with the sports and pastimes of the 
 land where the wool was long and the cus- 
 toms wild. Drouth, scarcity of water-holes, 
 "northers," rattlesnakes, Indians, even the 
 United States Army, could not have driven 
 us east of the ninety-ninth meridian of longi- 
 tude. 
 
 The details of the fight at Adobe Walls 
 were telegraphed to Fort Leavenworth. Troops 
 were not despatched at once to the scene of 
 the uprising, the Government taking the view 
 that it would be best not to move until an 
 expedition large enough to whip the Indians 
 to a standstill could be sent into the field. 
 General Miles reached Dodge City about 
 August, going south about ten days later. 
 
 My old friend Jack Callahan, of whom I 
 have frequently spoken, had just been em- 
 ployed as wagonmaster to go with the ex- 
 
246 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 pedition. Meeting me in the street, he otTer- 
 ed to make me his assistant. I had made up 
 my mind to accept the position, but fur- 
 ther down the street I came across John Cur- 
 ley, whom I had known at Hays City in 
 1868, when he was corral-master. Curley said 
 that he believed he could get me placed as 
 scout and guide with General Miles, which 
 exactly suited me. We went at once to Gen- 
 eral Miles headquarters, where Curley intro- 
 duced and recommended me. After asking 
 me a few questions. General Miles turned to 
 his adjutant and told him to put my name 
 down. I held this position from August 6, 1874, 
 to February 10, 1883, a period of nine years. 
 
 The troops moved out of Dodge City to 
 the Arkansas and camped. General Miles 
 assembled his scouts and tested their marks- 
 manship by having them shoot at a snag in 
 the river, calling our names as he pointed 
 out the objects each was to shoot at. I never 
 missed a single time. 
 
 Lieutenant Frank D. Baldwin, now a bri- 
 gadier-general, was sent to Adobe Walls with 
 two scouts, six Delaware trailers and a troop 
 of cavalry to ascertain the situation of those 
 who had remained at the Walls. We got 
 there in five days. Baldwin had not recently 
 seen much mounted service, and was very 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 247 
 
 tired and saddle-worn by the time we reached 
 Adobe Walls Creek. 
 
 About 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 
 day in to the Walls, seeing that night would 
 come before we arrived, Baldwin ordered 
 "Bat" Masterson and myself to ride ahead 
 and tell the boys that the troops were com- 
 ing. This precaution was taken lest the buf- 
 falo-hunters might mistake us for Indians 
 and fire into us. I rode up within speaking 
 distance and hollowed to the men and waved 
 my hat, to let them know who I was. Recog- 
 nizing me, they gave me a hearty reception. 
 
 There were a dozen or more men in the 
 buildings, where they had been shut up for 
 about two months. At no time had they ven- 
 tured far away. They had kept their horses 
 in the stockade, fearful of an attack by In- 
 dians; hay for the horses had been cut in 
 the creek bottom. When Tom Nixon and his 
 men came down from Dodge, Mrs. Olds and 
 the greater part of the men went back with 
 him. A number, however, preferred to re- 
 main at the Walls, however great the risk, 
 and did so. The boys cooked me a hot sup- 
 per and I was telling them stories of the out- 
 side world when the soldiers arrived about 
 9 o'clock. 
 
 The water in Adobe Walls Creek was 
 
248 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 now so low that there was not enough for 
 the horses, so we pulled over on Bent's 
 Creek, and camped on a mesquite flat, just 
 north of the old Adobe Walls ruins. 
 
 Next morning Lieutenant Baldwin asked 
 me to walk over the battleground with him. 
 Practically all the men went with us, the dis- 
 tance being about a mile. The coming of 
 the soldiers had given a feeling of security 
 to the men at the Walls, who now turned 
 out their horses to graze. Everybody was 
 laughing and talking and telling jokes, with- 
 out the slightest thought of danger. Some 
 mischevious fellow had stuck an Indian's 
 skull on each post of the corral gate. 
 
 Tobe Robinson and George Huffman, civ- 
 ilians, rode down the valley toward the Can- 
 adian River to hunt wild plums which at that 
 time were ripe and plentiful. They had been 
 gone only a short time when our attention 
 was drawn to two horsemen riding at . top 
 speed from the direction of the river toward 
 the Walls. Behind them came ten or fifteen 
 Indians quirting their ponies at every jump. 
 The two men were Robinson and Huffman. 
 They had unexpectedly run into this band 
 of Indians who were doing their best to cir- 
 cle and cut off the two white men. There 
 we stood a mile from camp where our arms 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 249 
 
 lay, unable to render these men any assist- 
 ance in their desperate straits. 
 
 Robinson and Huffman were riding side 
 by side and were able to maintain this po- 
 sition until they were rounding a little knoll 
 just beyond the old ruins. Here an Indian 
 managed to ride up near enough to run his 
 lance through Huffman's body. Huffman fell 
 dead from his horse. 
 
 The riderless horse continued running 
 beside Robinson's, the Indian still pursuing, 
 grabbing again and again at the rein of Huff- 
 man's horse. Finally, he seized the rein, 
 checked the horse, and rode back at full 
 speed toward his companions. All the In- 
 dians now galloped away and disappeared 
 among the sand hills. 
 
 The tragedy had happened so quickly 
 that we could hardly believe our eyes. The 
 Indians made no effort to mutilate or carry 
 off Huffman's body. Robinson reached us in 
 safety, though shaking with excitement. From 
 the Indian standpoint, the warrior who had 
 killed Huffman and escaped with his horse 
 had covered himself with glory. Sight of the 
 tents in the mesquite flat doubtless caused the 
 other Indians to give up the chase, or else 
 both Huffman and Robinson would have 
 been lanced to death. 
 
250 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Considerable time was lost in rounding 
 up our horses, which were grazing in the 
 valley, and getting into our saddles, to go in 
 pursuit of the Indians. Before we could 
 reach the Canadian the Indians had van- 
 ished in the sandhills of White Deer Creek. 
 We found two fagged ponies which the In- 
 dians had abandoned. 
 
 We carried Huti'man's body to the Walls 
 and dug a grave close beside the others. This 
 made five graves. Some day I hope a stone 
 will be erected to mark the spot. These men 
 gave all they had — their lives — to help make 
 this a civilized country. 
 
 Next day the soldiers and the men we 
 found at the Walls started south to join the 
 main command on Cantonement Creek. We 
 crossed the Canadian near the mouth of 
 Tallahone, where J. A. King now has a cow 
 ranch. On Chicken Creek we found two In- 
 dians who had stopped for noon, and had 
 built a small fire. Their ponies were near 
 at hand, tied to some sagebrush, and their 
 blankets had been spread out on the ground 
 to dry. We succeeded in killing one of them, 
 but the other warrior certainly had a fine 
 quality of stuff in his "medicine" bag, for he 
 mounted his pony and got away, despite the 
 bullets that split the air around him. He 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 251 
 
 was too hard-pressed to get his blanket and 
 a butcher knife which he left sticking in the 
 ground. 
 
 The noise of our guns stampeded a big 
 bunch of buffaloes further up the creek. 
 They kicked up such a cloud of dust that we 
 thought a -war party of Indians, possibly the 
 same that had attacked Adobe Walls, was 
 coming for us, and that we had stirred up 
 the worst kind of trouble. Happily, we were 
 soon able to see the buffaloes, and the world 
 looked brighter. 
 
 "Old nigger" Clark, our cook, driving a 
 six-mule team, with bedding, provisions and 
 cooking outfit, was a long way behind when 
 the shooting began. He raised a welt every 
 time he hit a mule, and by the time he drew 
 near us he was making the fastest kind of 
 time, his eyes sticking out like white china 
 saucers. When almost upon us, his mules 
 took fright and ran away, and could not be 
 stopped until men rode to his assistance. 
 
 Ours was the last party of white men 
 ever to leave Adobe Walls. When I passed 
 that way the following fall with United States 
 troops the Indians had been there and burned 
 the place to the ground. The walls were still 
 smoking. 
 
 General Miles was with us on this trip. 
 
252 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 We camped in sight of the battleground. He 
 asked hundreds of questions about the fight 
 appearing curious about every detail. The 
 soldiers picked up everything they could find 
 in their hunt for souvenirs, even bones, which 
 I am sure were mostly horse bones. The In- 
 dians had gathered up all the bones of their 
 dead and wrapped them in new blankets, 
 depositing them at the foot of the hills on 
 the east side of the valley of Adobe Walls 
 Creek. The soldiers threw away the bones 
 and carried off the blankets. This was in 
 October. The Indians had not taken any of 
 the provisions which had been left in the 
 buildings. They were a suspicious people, 
 and were fearful that the provisions might 
 be poisoned. 
 
 While we were at Adobe Walls on this 
 last trip, a dog that I had owned at the time 
 of the fight came into camp. Her appear- 
 ance affected me greatly, as I was fond of 
 her and loved all dumb animals. She was a 
 highly intelligent setter bitch, named Fannie. 
 She had disappeared with the other dogs 
 the day of the fight, and I was sure that 
 she had been killed by the Indians or had 
 wandered away and starved. Seven months 
 had passed since I had seen her. 
 
 After we had petted her and fed her, 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 253 
 
 Fannie disappeared. But her absence was 
 brief. She came back with something in her 
 mouth and stood wagging her tail, to at- 
 tract attention. When we saw what she had 
 brought to us every man grinned and was as 
 tickled as if he were a boy. Fannie had 
 brought a fat, bright-eyed little puppy in her 
 mouth. Dropping the little fellow gently on 
 a pile of bedding, she frisked about with de- 
 light as each of us tried to get hold of the 
 pup and fondle it. Fannie bounded away 
 while we were "fussing" among ourselves to 
 see who should play with pup. She came 
 with another pup in her mouth, laying it 
 beside the other one. She made two more 
 trips, until finally her family of four little 
 ones were playing with each other on our 
 bedding. The father of these pups was the 
 big Newfoundland that belonged to the Shad- 
 ier brothers, which the Indians killed while 
 he was trying to defend his masters at the 
 very beginning of the Adobe Walls fight. 
 When we pulled out, Fannie and her babies 
 were given a snug place in the mess wagon. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE most perilous adventure of my life 
 occurred September 12, 1874, in what was 
 known as the Buffalo Wallow Fight. My 
 escape from death was miraculous. The year 
 1874, as the reader doubtless may have ob- 
 served, brought me full measure of things I 
 had dreamed of doing when a boy. I came 
 in contact with hostile Indians as frequently 
 as the most devoted warrior might wish, and 
 found that it was serious business. 
 
 On September 10, 1874, General Nelson 
 A. Miles, in command of the troops cam- 
 paigning against the Indians in the South- 
 west, was on McGlellan Creek, in the Pan- 
 handle, when he ordered Amos Chapman and 
 myself, scouts, and four enlisted men to car- 
 ry dispatches to Fort Supply. The enlisted 
 men were Sergeant Z. T. Woodhull, Troop I; 
 Private Peter Rath, Troop A; Private John 
 Harrington, Troop H; and Private George W. 
 Smith, Troop M, Sixth Cavalry. When Gen- 
 eral Miles handed us the dispatches, he told 
 us that we could have all the soldiers we 
 thought necessary. His command was short 
 of rations. We preferred the smallest pos- 
 sible number. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 255 
 
 Leaving camp, we traveled mostly at 
 night, resting in secluded places during the 
 day. War parties were moving in every di- 
 rection, and there was danger of attack at 
 every turn. On the second day, just as the 
 sun was rising, we were nearing a divide be- 
 tween the Washita River and Gageby Greek. 
 Riding to the top of a little knoll, we found 
 ourselves almost face to face with a large 
 band of Kiowa and Gomanche warriors. The 
 Indians saw us at the same instant and, cir- 
 cling quickly, surrounded us. We were in 
 a trap. We knew that the best thing to do 
 was to make a stand and fight for our lives, 
 as there would be great danger of our be- 
 coming separated in the excitement of a run- 
 ning fight, after which the Indians could the 
 more easily kill us one by one. We also 
 realized that we could do better work on 
 foot, so we dismounted and placed our horses 
 in the care of George Smith. In a moment 
 or two poor Smith was shot down, and the 
 horses stampeded. 
 
 When Smith was shot, he fell flat on his 
 stomach, and his gun fell from his hand, 
 far beyond his reach. But no Indian was 
 ever able to capture that gun; if one ven- 
 tured near Smith, we never failed to bring 
 him down. We thought Smith was dead 
 
256 
 
 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Unit oil e and Ills Band of Murderous Kioiva Raiders. 
 
 when he fell, but he survived until about 
 11 o'clock that night. 
 
 I realized at once that I was in closer 
 quarters than I had ever been in my life, and 
 I have always felt that I did some good 
 work that day. I was fortunate enough not 
 to become disabled at any stage of the fight. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 257 
 
 which left me free to do my best under the 
 circumstances. I received one wound — a bul- 
 let in the calf of my leg. I was wearing a 
 thin cashmere shirt, slightly bloused. This 
 shirt was literally riddled with bullets. How 
 a man could be shot at so many times at 
 close range and not be hit I could never 
 understand. The Indians seemed to feel ab- 
 solutely sure of getting us, so sure, in fact, 
 that they delayed riding us down and killing 
 us at once, which they could easily have done, 
 and prolonged the early stages of the fight 
 merely to satisfy their desire to toy with an 
 enemy at bay, as a cat would play with a 
 mouse before taking its life. 
 
 We saw that there was no show for us 
 to survive on this little hillside, and decided 
 that our best lighting ground was a small 
 mesquite flat several hundred yards distant. 
 Before we undertook to shift our position a 
 bullet struck Amos Chapman. I was looking 
 at him when he was shot. Amos said, "Billy, 
 I am hit at last," and eased himself down. 
 The fight was so hot that I did not have time 
 to ask him how badly he was hurt. Every 
 man, save Rath and myself, h,ul been wound- 
 ed. Our situation was growing more des- 
 perate every minute. I knew that something 
 had to be done, and quickly, or else all of 
 
 17D 
 
258 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 us in a short while would be dead or in 
 the hands of the Indians, who would torture 
 as in the most inhuman manner before tak- 
 ing our lives. 
 
 I could see where the buffaloes had 
 pawed and wallowed a depression, commonly 
 called a buffalo "wallow," and I ran for it 
 at top speed. It seemed as if a bullet whiz- 
 zed past me at every jump, but I got through 
 unharmed. The wallow was about ten feet 
 in diameter. I found that its depth, though 
 slight, afforded some protection. I shouted to 
 my comrades to try to come to me, which 
 all of them save Smith and Chapman, com- 
 menced trying to do. As each man reached 
 the wallow, he drew his butcher knife and 
 began digging desperately with knife and 
 hands to throw up the dirt round the sides. 
 The land happened to be sandy, and we made 
 good headway, though constantly interrupted 
 by the necessity of firing at the Indians as 
 they dashed within range. 
 
 It was probably about noon before we 
 reached the wallow. Many times that ter- 
 rible day did I think that my last moment 
 was at hand. Once, when the Indians were 
 crowding us awfully hard, one of the boys 
 raised up and yelled, "No use, boys, no use; 
 we might as well give it up." We answered 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 259 
 
 by shouting to him to He down. At that 
 moment a bullet struck in the soft bank near 
 him and completely filled his mouth with 
 dirt. I was so amused that I laughed, though 
 in a rather sickly way, for none of us felt 
 much like laughing. 
 
 By this time, however, I had recovered 
 from the first excitement of battle, and was 
 perfectly cool, as were the rest of the men. 
 We were keenly aware that the only thing 
 to do was to sell our lives as dearly as pos- 
 sible. We fired deliberately, taking good aim, 
 and were picking off an Indian at almost 
 every round. The wounded men conducted 
 themselves admirably, and greatly assisted in 
 concealing our crippled condition by sitting 
 upright, as if unhurt, after they reached the 
 wallow. This made it impossible for the In- 
 dians accurately to guess what plight we were 
 in. Had they known so many of us were 
 wounded undoubtedly they would have rode 
 in and finished us. 
 
 After all had reached the wallow, with 
 the exception of Chapman and Smith, all of 
 us thinking that Smith was dead, somebody 
 called to Chapman to come on in. We now 
 learned for the first time that Chapman's leg 
 was broken. He called back that he could 
 not walk, as his left knee was shattered. 
 
260 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 I made several efforts to reach him be- 
 fore I succeeded. Every time the Indians 
 saw me start, they would fire such a volley 
 that I was forced to retreat, until finally I 
 made a run and got to Chapman. 1 told him 
 to climb on my back, my plan being to carry 
 him as I would a little child. Drawing both 
 his legs in front of me, and laying the broken 
 one over the sound one, to support it, I car- 
 ried him to the wallow, though not without 
 difTiculty, as he was a larger man than my- 
 self, and his body a dead weight. It taxed 
 my strength to carry him. 
 
 We were now all in the wallow, except 
 Smith, and we felt that it would be foolish 
 and useless to risk our lives in attempting to 
 bring in his dead body. We had not seen 
 him move since the moment he went down. 
 We began digging like gophers with our 
 hands and knives to make our little wall of 
 earth higher, and shortly had heaped up 
 quite a little wall of dirt around us. Its 
 protection was quickly felt, even though our 
 danger was hardly lessened. 
 
 When I look back and recall our situa- 
 tion, I always find myself thinking of how my 
 wounded companions never complained nor 
 faltered, but fought as bravely as if a bullet 
 had not touched them. Sometimes the In- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 261 
 
 dians would ride toward us at headlong speed 
 with lances uplifted and poised, undoubtedly 
 bent upon spearing us. Such moments made 
 a man brace himself and grip his gun. For- 
 tunately, we were able to keep our heads and 
 to bring down or disable the leader. Such 
 charges proved highly dangerous to the In- 
 dians, and gradually grew less frequent. 
 
 Thus, all that long, hot September day the 
 Indians circled round us or dashed past, yell- 
 ing and cutting all kinds of capers. All 
 morning we had been without water, and 
 the wounded were sorely in need of it. In 
 the stress and excitement of such an en- 
 counter, even a man who has not been hurt 
 grows painfully thirsty, and his tongue and 
 lips are soon as dry as a whetstone. Ours 
 was the courage of despair. We knew what 
 would befall us if we should be captured alive 
 —we had seen too many naked and mangled 
 bodies of white men who had been spread- 
 eagled and tortured with steel and fire to 
 forget what our own fate would be. So we 
 were determined to fight to the end, not un- 
 mindful of the fact that every once in a 
 while there was another dead or wounded 
 Indian. 
 
 About 3 o'clock a black cloud came up in 
 the west, and in a short time the skv shook 
 
262 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 and blazed with thunder and lightning. Rain 
 fell in blinding sheets, drenching us to the 
 skin. Water gathered quickly in the buf- 
 falo wallow, and our wounded men eagerly 
 bent forward and drank from the muddy 
 pool. It was more than muddy — that water 
 was red with their own blood that had 
 flowed from their wounds and lay clotting 
 and dry in the hot September sun. 
 
 The storm and the rain proved our sal- 
 vation. The wind had shifted to the north 
 and was now drearily chilling us to the bone. 
 An Indian dislikes rain, especially a cold 
 rain, and these Kiowas and Comanches were 
 no exception to the rule. We could see them 
 in groups out of rifle range sitting on their 
 horses with their blankets drawn tightly 
 around them. The Plains country beats the 
 world for quick changes in weather, and in 
 less than an hour after the rain had fallen, 
 the wind was bitterly cold. Not a man in 
 our crowd had a coat, and our thin shirts 
 were scant protection. Our coats were tied 
 behind our saddles when our horses stam- 
 peded, and were lost beyond recovery. I was 
 heart-sick over the loss of my coat, for in 
 the inside pocket was my dearest treasure, my 
 mother's picture, which my father had given 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 263 
 
 me shortly before his death. I was never 
 able to recover it. 
 
 The water was gathering rapidly in the 
 wallow and soon had reached a depth of two 
 inches. Not a man murmured. Not one 
 thought of surrender. The wounded were 
 shivering as if they had ague. 
 
 We now found that our ammunition was 
 running low. This fact rather appalled us, 
 as bullets, and plenty of them, were our only 
 protection. At the fight at the Walls, not 
 only was there plenty of ammunition, but 
 the buildings themselves gave confidence. 
 Necessity compelled us to save every cartridge 
 as long as possible, and not to fire at an 
 Indian unless we could see that he meant 
 business and was coming right into us. 
 
 Late in the afternoon somebody suggested 
 that we go out and get Smith's belt and six- 
 shooter, as he had been shot early in the 
 fight and his belt undoubtedly was loaded 
 with cartridges. 
 
 Rath offered to go, and soon returned 
 and said that Smith was still alive, which 
 astonished us greatly, as well as causing us 
 to regret that we had not known it earlier 
 in the day. Rath and I at once got ready to 
 bring Smith to the buffalo wallow. By sup- 
 porting the poor wounded fellow between us. 
 
264 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 he managed to walk. We could see that 
 there was no chance for him. He was shot 
 through the left lung and when he breathed 
 the wind sobbed out of his back under the 
 shoulder blade. Near the wallow an Indian 
 had dropped a stout willow switch with which 
 he had been whipping his pony. With this 
 switch a silk handkerchief was stuffed into 
 the gaping bullet hole in Smith's back. 
 
 Night was approaching, and it looked 
 blacker to me than any night I had ever 
 seen. Ours was a forlorn and disheartening 
 situation. The Indians were still all around 
 us. The nearest relief was seventy-five miles 
 away. Of the six men in the wallow, four 
 were badly wounded, and without anything 
 to relieve their suttering. We were cold and 
 hungry, with nothing to eat, and without a 
 blanket, coat or hat to protect us from the 
 rain and the biting wind. It was impossible 
 to rest or sleep in the two inches of water in 
 wallow. 
 
 I remember that I threw my hat, a wide- 
 brimmed sombrero, as far from me as I 
 could when our horses stampeded — the hat 
 was in my way and too good a target for 
 the Indians to shoot at. 
 
 We were unable to get grass for bed- 
 ding, as the whole country had been burnt 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 265 
 
 off by the Indians. It was absolutely neces- 
 sary, however, that the men should have 
 some kind of bed to keep them off the cold, 
 damp ground. Rath and I solved the prob- 
 lem by gathering tumble-weeds which in that 
 country the wind would drive for miles and 
 miles, until the weeds lodged and became 
 fast. Many of them were bigger than a 
 bushel basket, and their twigs so tough that 
 the weeds had the "spring" of a wire matress. 
 We crushed the weeds, and lay down on them 
 for the night, though not a man dared close 
 his eyes in sleep. 
 
 By the time heavy darkness had fallen 
 every Indian had disappeared. Happily, they 
 did not return to molest us during the night. 
 There was a new moon, but so small and 
 slender that in tthe clouded sky there was 
 little light. While there was still Kght, I 
 look the willow switch and sat down on the 
 edge of the bank and carefully cleaned every 
 gun. 
 
 While I was cleaning the guns, we held 
 a consultation to decide what would be best 
 for us to do. We agreed that somebody 
 should go for help. No journey could have 
 been beset with greater danger. Rath and I 
 both offered to go. The task was squarely 
 up to us, as all the other men were injured. 
 
266 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 I insisted that I should go, as I knew the 
 country, and felt confident that I could find 
 the trail that led to Camp Supply. I was 
 sure that we were not far from this trail. 
 
 My insistence at once caused protest from 
 the wounded. They were willing that Rath 
 should go, but would not listen to my leav- 
 ing them. Once I put my hand on my gun 
 with the intention of going anyway, then yield- 
 ed to their wishes against my better judgment, 
 and decided to remain through the night. 
 The wounded men relied greatly upon my 
 skill as a marksman. 
 
 Bidding us goodbye. Rath disappeared in 
 the darkness. After he had been gone about 
 two hours he came back, saying that he could 
 not find the trail. 
 
 By this time Smith had grown much 
 worse and was begging us in piteous tones 
 to shoot him and put an end to his terrible 
 sufferings. We found it necessary to w^atch 
 him closely to prevent his committing sui- 
 cide. 
 
 There was not a man among us who had 
 not thought of that same melancholy fate. 
 When the fight was at its worst, with the 
 Indians closing in on all sides, and when it 
 seemed that every minute would be our last, 
 I was strongly tempted to take my butcher 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 267 
 
 knife, which I kept at razor edge, and cut 
 off my hair. In those days my hair was 
 black and heavy and brushed my shoulders. 
 As a matter of fact, I was rather proud of 
 my hair. Its luxuriance would have tempted 
 any Indian to scalp me at the first oppor- 
 tunity. I had a further and final plan — to 
 save my last bullet for self destruction. 
 
 Poor Smith endured his agony like a 
 brave soldier. Our hearts ached but we could 
 do nothing to relieve his pain. About 10 
 o'clock that night he fell asleep and we were 
 glad of it, for in sleep he could forget his 
 sufferings. Later in the night one of the 
 boys felt of him, to see how he was getting 
 along. He was cold in death. Men commonly 
 think of death as something to be shunned. 
 There are times, however, when its hand falls 
 as tenderly as the touch of a mother's hand, 
 and when its coming is welcomed by those 
 to whom hopeless suffering has brought the 
 last bitter dregs of life. We lifted the body 
 of our dead comrade and gently laid it out- 
 side the buffalo wallow on the mesquite grass, 
 covering the white face with a silk handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Then the rest of us huddled together on 
 the damp ground, and thought of the mor- 
 row. That night is indelibly stamped in my 
 
268 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 memory; many a time have its perils filled 
 my dreams, until I awoke startled and 
 thrilled by a feeling of imminent danger. 
 Every night the same stars are shining way 
 out there in the Panhandle, the winds sigh 
 as mournfully as they did then, and I often 
 wonder if a single settler who passes the 
 lonely spot knows how desperately six men 
 once battled for their lives where now may be 
 plowed fields, and safety and the comforts of 
 civilization. 
 
 Like everything else, the long night final- 
 ly came to an end, and the sun rose clear 
 and warm next morning. By this time all the 
 men were willing that I should go for help, 
 and I at once started. Daylight exposed me 
 to many dangers from which the night shield- 
 ed me. By moving cautiously at night, it 
 was possible to avoid the enemy, but if sur- 
 prised, to stand a good chance of escape. In 
 the daytime, however, the enemy could lie 
 in hiding and scan the country in every di- 
 rection. On the Plains, especially in the fall 
 when the grass is brown, the smallest moving 
 object may be perceived by the trained eye 
 at an astonishingly long distance. I knew 
 that I must proceed with utmost caution, lest 
 I fall into an ambush or be attacked in the 
 open by superior numbers. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 269 
 
 I had traveled scarcely more than half 
 a mile when I struck the plain trail leading 
 to Camp Supply. Hurrying along as rapidly 
 as possible and keeping a constant lookout 
 for Indians, I checked myself at the sudden 
 sight of an outfit that seemed to cover about 
 an acre of ground, two miles or so to the 
 northwest. The outfit at first did not appear 
 to be moving and I could not tell whether it 
 was made up of white men or Indians. I 
 skulked to a growth of tall grass and hid for 
 a while. My nerves were too keen to endure 
 hiding and waiting, so I stole back and took 
 another look. The outfit was moving toward 
 me. Shortly I was able to see that they were 
 troops — Indians always traveled strung out 
 in a line, while these were traveling abreast 
 
 I never felt happier in my life. I whanged 
 loose with my old "50" to attract the attention 
 of the soldiers, and saw the whole command 
 come to a halt. I fired my gun a second 
 lime, which brought two soldiers to me. I 
 told them of our condition, and they rode 
 rapidly back to the command and reported. The 
 commanding officer was Major Price, with a 
 troop, accompanying General Miles' supply 
 train which was on its way with supplies from 
 Fort Supply to field headquarters. 
 
 The same Indians that we had been fight- 
 
270 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 ing had been holding this supply train cor- 
 ralled for four days near the Washita River. 
 Major Price, luckily for the outfit, happened 
 along and raised the siege. The Indians had 
 just given up the attack when we ran into 
 them. 
 
 Major Price rode over to where I was 
 waiting, bringing his army surgeon with him. 
 I described the condition of my comrades, 
 after which Major Price sent the surgeon and 
 two soldiers to see what could be done for 
 the wounded. I pointed out the place, which 
 was about a mile distant, and asked the 
 surgeon if he thought he could find it with- 
 out my going along, as Major Price wanted 
 me to tell him about the fight. The surgeon 
 said that he could and rode away. 
 
 I was describing in detail all that had 
 happened when I looked up and saw that the 
 relief party was bearing too far south. I 
 fired my gun to attract their attention, and 
 then waved it in the direction which they 
 were to go. By this time they were within 
 gunshot of my comrades in the buffalo wal- 
 low. To my utter astonishment, I heard the 
 roar of a gun and saw a puff of smoke rise 
 from the wallow — one of the men had fired 
 at the approaching strangers, killing a horse 
 ridden by one of the soldiers. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 271 
 
 I ran forward as rapidly as possible, not 
 knowing what the men would do next. They 
 were soon able to recognize me, and lowered 
 their guns. When we got to them the men 
 said that they had heard shooting — the shots 
 J had fired to attract the attention of th(; 
 troops — and supposed that the Indians had 
 killed me and were coming for them. They 
 were determined to take no chances, and 
 shot at the surgeon and the two soldiers 
 the moment they got within range. 
 
 Despite the sad plight of the wounded 
 men, about all the surgeon did was to ex- 
 amine their injuries. The soldiers turned 
 over a few pieces of hardtack and some dried 
 beef, which happened to be tied behind their 
 saddles. Major Price refused to leave any 
 men with us. For this he was afterwards 
 severely censured, and justly. He would not 
 even provide us with firearms. Our own 
 ammunition was exhausted and the soldiers 
 carried guns of different make and caliber 
 from ours. However, they said tliey would 
 let General Miles know of our condition. We 
 were sure that help would come the moment 
 General Miles heard the news. At the time 
 we were glad just to have seen these men 
 and did not think much about how they 
 treated us. 
 
272 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 We watched and waited until midnight 
 of the second day after the troops had passed 
 before help came. A long way oif in the 
 dark we heard the faint sound of a bugle. 
 It made us swallow a big lump in our 
 throats and bite our lips. Nearer and clearer 
 came the bugle notes. Our nerves were get- 
 ting "jumpy," so strong was our emotion. We 
 fired our guns, to let them know where we 
 were, and soon the soldiers came riding out 
 of the darkness. 
 
 As soon as the wounded could be turned 
 over to the surgeon, we placed the body of 
 our dead comrade in the wallow where we 
 had all fought and suffered together, and 
 covered it with the dirt which we had ridged 
 up with our hands and butcher knives for 
 breastworks. Then we went down on the 
 creek where the soldiers had built a big fire 
 and cooked a meal for us. 
 
 Next day the wounded were sent to Camp 
 Supply where they were given humane and 
 careful treatment. Amos Chapman's leg was 
 amputated above the knee. Amos was as 
 tough as second growth hickory and was soon 
 out of the hospital and in the saddle. All 
 the men recovered and went right on with 
 the army. Chapman could handle a gun and 
 ride as well as ever, the only difference being 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 273 
 
 that he had to mount his horse from the 
 right side, Indian fashion. 
 
 I should like once more to meet the men 
 with whom I fought in the Buffalo Wallow 
 Fight, but I seldom hear from them. When I 
 last heard of Amos Chapman he was living 
 at Seiling, Oklahoma. My last letter from 
 Sergeant Woodhull was dated Fort Wingate, 
 New Mexico, 1883. This was shortly after 
 Colonel Dodge had published his book, "Our 
 Wild Indians," in which he attempted to give 
 a circumstantial account of the Buffalo Wal- 
 low Fight. Sergeant Woodhull was displeased 
 with the statement of facts, and resented the 
 inaccuracies. 
 
 I guess I am partly to blame in the mat- 
 ter. When Colonel Dodge was writing his 
 book, he wrote and asked me to send him an 
 account of the fight. I neglected to do so, 
 and he obtained his information from other 
 sources. If my present narrative differs from 
 that of Colonel Dodge, all I can say is that 
 I have described the fight as I saw it. In 
 saying this I do not wish to place myself in 
 the attitude of censuring Colonel Dodge. 
 However, it should be reasonably apparent 
 that a man with a broken leg cannot carry 
 another man on his back. In correcting this 
 bit of border history I repeat that every one 
 
 18D 
 
Drew Dixon, Son of "Billi/" Dixon. 
 Like His Father, a Sure Shot. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 275 
 
 of my comrades in that fight conducted him- 
 self in the most heroic manner, bravely doing 
 his part in every emergency. Below will be 
 found the text of the report which General 
 Miles sent to Washington: 
 
 Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
 Camp on Washita River, Texas, 
 September 24, 1874. 
 Adjutant General, U. S. A., 
 
 Thro Offices Asst. Adjt. Gen., Head- 
 quarters Department and Military Di- 
 vision of the Missouri and of the 
 Army. 
 General : 
 
 I deem it but a duty to brave men and 
 faithful soldiers to bring to the notice of liie 
 highest military authority, an instance of in- 
 domitable courage, skill and true heroism on 
 the part of a detachment from this command, 
 with the request that the actors may be re- 
 warded, and their faithfulness and braver>^ 
 recognized, by pensions, medals of honor, or 
 in such way as may be deemed most fitting. 
 On the night of the 10th inst. a party con- 
 sisting of Sergt. Z. T. Woodhall, Co. I; Pri- 
 vates Peter Rath, Co. A; John Harrington, 
 Co. H. and George W. Smith, Co. M, Sixth 
 Cavalry; Scouts Amos Chapman and William 
 
276 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Dixon, were sent as bearers of despatches 
 from the camp of this command on McClel- 
 land Creek to Camp Supply, I. T., 
 
 At 6 a. m., of the 12th, when approach- 
 ing the Washita River, they were met and 
 surrounded by a band of Kiowa and Com- 
 anches, who had scarcely left their Agency; 
 at the first attack all were struck. Private 
 Smith mortally, and three others severely 
 wounded. Although enclosed on all sides and 
 by overwhelming numbers, one of them suc- 
 ceeded, while they were under a heavy fire 
 at short range, and while the others, with 
 their rifles, were keeping the Indians at bay 
 in digging with his knife and hands a slight 
 cover. After this had been secured, they 
 placed themselves within it, the wounded 
 walking with brave and painful efforts, and 
 Private Smith, though he had received a 
 mortal wound, sitting upright within the 
 trench, to conceal the crippled condition of 
 their party from the Indians. 
 
 From early morning till dark, outnum- 
 bered 25 to 1, under an almost constant fire 
 and at such short range that they sometimes 
 used their pistols, retaining the last charge 
 to prevent capture and torture, this little par- 
 ty of five defended their lives and the person 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 277 
 
 of their dying comrade, without food, and their 
 only drink the rain water that collected in 
 a pool mingled with their own blood. 
 
 There is no doubt but that they killed 
 more than double their number, besides those 
 that were wounded. The Indians abandoned 
 the attack on the 12th at dark. 
 
 The exposure and distance from the com- 
 mand which were necessary incidents of their 
 duty, were such, that for thirty-six hours 
 from the first attack, their condition could 
 not be known, and not till midnight of the 
 13th could they receive medical attendance 
 and food, exposed during this time to an 
 incessant cold storm. 
 
 Sergt. Woodhall, Private Harrington and 
 Scout Chapman were seriously wounded. Pri- 
 vate Smith died of his wounds on the morn- 
 ing of the 13th. Private Rath and Scout 
 Dixon were struck but not disabled. 
 
 The simple recital of their deeds, and 
 the mention of the odds against which they 
 fought, how the wounded defended the dy- 
 ing, and the dying aided the wounded by ex- 
 posure to fresh wounds after the power of 
 action was gone, these alone present a scene 
 of cool courage, heroism and self-sacrifice 
 which duty, as well as inclination prompts us 
 
278 Life of *'Billy" Dixon 
 
 to recognize, but which we cannot fully hon- 
 or. 
 
 Very Respectfully, 
 Your obedient servant, 
 (Signed) NELSON A. MILES, 
 
 Col. and Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. U. S A., Command- 
 ing. 
 
 Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
 Camp on Oasis Creek, L T., 
 
 Oct. 1, 1874. 
 Official copy respectfully furnished Wil- 
 liam Dixon. By command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. 
 Miles. 
 
 G. W. BAIRD, 
 Asst. Adjt. 5th Inf., A. A. A. Gen'l. 
 
 General Miles had both the heart and the 
 accomplishments of a soldier, and Congress 
 voted to each of us the Medal of Honor. He 
 was delighted when the Medals came from 
 Washington. With his own hands he pinned 
 mine on my coat when we were in camp on 
 Carson Creek, five or six miles west of the 
 ruins of the original Adobe Walls. The text 
 of the official correspondence concerning the 
 award of the Medals of Honor is appended: 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 279 
 
 Headquarters Indian Territory Expedition, 
 Camp near Fort Sill, I. T., 
 January 24th, 1875. 
 General Order No. 28: 
 
 The Commanding Officer takes pleasure 
 in announcing to the troops of this Expedition 
 that his recommendation that the distinguished 
 heroism displayed on tthe 12th of September, 
 1874, by Sergeant Z. T. Woodhall of Co. I, 
 Private John Harrington, Co. H, and Peter 
 Rath Co. A, 6th Cavalry, and Scouts Amos 
 Chapman and William Dixon be recognized, 
 has been approved by the highest military 
 authority, and that the Congress has De- 
 stowed upon each of these men a Medal of 
 Honor. It is now his pleasing duty to be- 
 stow upon men who can worthily wear them, 
 these tokens of the recognition and approval 
 of their Government. 
 
 By Command of Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. N. A. Miles. 
 (Signed) G. W. BAIRD, 
 
 1st Lieut, and Adjutant 5th Infty., 
 
 A. A. A. General. 
 
 Headquarters Ind. Ter. Expedition. 
 
 Camp on Canadian, Texas. 
 December 24, 1874. 
 Mr. William Dixon, 
 
 Sir: 
 
 I take pleasure in presenting to you a 
 
280 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Medal of Honor, as a recognition by the Gov- 
 ernment of your skill, courage and determined 
 fortitude, displayed in an engagement with 
 (5) others, on the 12th of September, 1874, 
 against hostile Indians, in overwhelming num- 
 bers. 
 
 This mark of honor, I trust, will be long 
 worn by you, and though it in a small degree 
 compensates for the hardships endured, yet 
 it is a lasting emblem of distinguished services, 
 well earned in a noble cause. It will ever 
 recall the fact to you and yours, of having 
 materially aided in clearing this fair coun- 
 try of ruthless savages, and freeing it from 
 all time to civil settlements. This must be 
 an ever increasing gratification to you. 
 
 This badge of honor is most worthily 
 bestowed. 
 
 Respectfully, &c., 
 
 NELSON A. MILES, 
 Bvt. Maj. Gen'l. U. S. Army, 
 
 Commanding. 
 
 It was always my intention to go back 
 and mark the spot where the Buffalo Wallow 
 Fight took place and where George Smith 
 still lies buried. Procrastination and the re- 
 moteness of the spot have prevented my go- 
 ing. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN civilized surroundings a Plains blizzard is 
 bad enough; in a wild country, a blizzard 
 is more appalling than a tornado, for the lat- 
 ter may be dodged, but the blizzard is every- 
 where and sets its teeth into a man's vitals, 
 wherever he may be. A blizzard brings a 
 feeling of terror that even the strongest man 
 can hardly resist. I have seen men moaning 
 and trembling in a blizzard, as if the last 
 drop of courage had oozed from their bodies. 
 They were not cowards. Their distress was 
 due to an instinctive, animal-like feeling that 
 death was everywhere about them, invisible, 
 dread and mysterious. In time, however, this 
 fearfulness wears away, but not until death 
 itself has begun fastening upon the freezing 
 body. As in drowning, death by freezing is 
 comparatively painless. In their last hours, 
 natural death usually is kind to all creatures. 
 In going from the Canadian River to 
 Camp Supply, March 17, 1875, with a com- 
 pany of soldiers, I met with an experience 
 in a blizzard that I never forgot. The snow 
 had drifted so deep that the horses soon grew 
 exhausted. My own horse was badly jaded. 
 The men were suffering with the cold so in- 
 
282 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 tensely that they were unruly and hard to 
 control. It was my duty to keep the lead. I 
 was sure that I was going in the right direc- 
 tion, though it was impossible to see more 
 than ten steps ahead. 
 
 Occasionally, one of the men would ride 
 ahead of me, contrary to orders, and finally I 
 told the lieutenant who was in command that 
 the men would have to keep back or we 
 w^ould lose our way. He forced them to stay 
 behind. My horse became so fatigued that he 
 began staggering, and I knew that it was no 
 longer safe to ride him, as he could not be 
 trusted to hold his course, so I dismounted 
 and led him. A soldier, compelled to remain 
 in his saddle, said that he was afraid he was 
 freezing, and asked me to mount his horse 
 that he might have an excuse for walking. I 
 then turned my horse loose. 
 
 Pretty soon we came to the forks of a 
 draw. I took the one that I thought led to 
 camp and, luckily, was right. Had we turned 
 up the other prong we would have frozen to 
 death. We had gone only a short distance 
 from the forking when I noticed that the 
 soldier on foot was not in sight. I asked the 
 lieutenant if it might not be well to go back 
 and look for the straggler. 
 
 The lieutenant merely shook his head and 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 283 
 
 motioned for me to keep going. His manner 
 displeased me, until I learned that he was so 
 cold that he could not open his mouth — his 
 jaws were set and practically locked. 
 
 After riding a few miles, we struck camp. 
 There was plenty of timber, and we soon had 
 a roaring fire, and thawed out. The soldier 
 on foot was not with us. Three or four of us 
 went back to where the draw pronged, and 
 by the light of a lantern could plainly see his 
 tracks in the snow, and where he had taken 
 the wrong route, going off down the east 
 prong, instead of following us. 
 
 We hunted and hunted for him, but could 
 not find him. To our amazement, he came 
 into camp next morning, more dead than 
 alive. His feet were frozen solid, and had 
 to be amputated. 
 
 Panhandle weather in the very early 
 spring is the most unreliable in the world. 
 We crawled into our blankets that night, 
 numb and shivering, the wind howling in the 
 timber, and the snow drifting and drifting 
 around our tents. How about next morning? 
 Well, the sun came up next morning, smiling 
 and warm; a soft wind was whispering from 
 the south, and by noon the hills were run- 
 ning with water from the melted snow. When 
 the snow melted from the wild plum bushes 
 
284 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 we saw that they were in full bloom, and 
 there was not a prettier sight in the Pan- 
 handle. There were worlds of plums that 
 year. In two weeks the grass was green 
 everywhere on the Plains, and spring came 
 with a rush. 
 
 All old-timers in the southwest remem- 
 ber Jack Stilwell, scout, guide and good fel- 
 low. One of his exploits was to escape at 
 night from the island where Major Forsythe, 
 in the Battle of the Arickaree, was surrounded 
 by Indians, and go to Fort Wallace for re- 
 lief. Once Jack and I were out on the Staked 
 Plains with nothing to eat. Jack persuaded 
 me to kill a wild horse for meat. A large 
 herd was grazing at the edge of a lake, and 
 I shot a two-year-old filly. We built a fire 
 and cooked some of the meat. Doing my 
 level best, I was never able to swallow a 
 single mouthful — always it stuck in my 
 throat. I preferred to go hungry rather than 
 try to eat it. The meat looked good, but the 
 name was too much for me. 
 
 Stilwell was a frolicsome fellow and 
 played many pranks. One time we were go- 
 ing from Gamp Supply to Dodge City. Just 
 to make fun on the trip, Jack told me that 
 when we stopped for dinner he would dare 
 me to shoot at his ears, to see what the army 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 285 
 
 officers would do. Noon came and while the 
 officer in charge was looking in our direction, 
 Jack said: 
 
 "Billy, I'll bet you can't hit my ear with 
 your *50' rifle." 
 
 "All right," I answered, "stand out there 
 where you will not be in the way of the 
 other gentlemen, and I'll see what I can do." 
 
 The old army officer looked at us with 
 disgust and later with horror. I was a crack 
 shot, and Jack knew he was safe. Taking 
 careful aim, I fired just as close to his ear 
 as I dared with safety. Jack dodged and 
 scratched his ear as if a hornet had stung 
 him. 
 
 "You come pretty close. Try again," he 
 said. 
 
 I shot a second time, and Jack repeated 
 his scratching performance, declaring that he 
 was sure I barely missed breaking the skin. 
 
 The old army officer scowled at us as if 
 we were devils. He told the men at the 
 next station that we were the toughest bunch 
 he was ever with, and that we had been 
 shooting at each other all day. When the 
 corral master wanted the old officer to ride 
 the rest of the way with us, he positively and 
 emphatically, even profanely refused, saying 
 
286 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 that we were the wrong kind of roosters for 
 him to be with. 
 
 The rescue of the four Germain sisters 
 who had been captured by the Indians was 
 a romantic incident of the Miles expedition to 
 subdue the hostile tribes in 1875. The circum- 
 stances surrounding their capture by the In- 
 dians shocked the whole country and inflamed 
 the border settlements with a spirit of ven- 
 gence that would have wrought the destruc- 
 tion of every Indian west of the Mississippi 
 had it been possible to attack the marauders 
 at close quarters. From time to time news 
 came from the Indian country that the girls 
 were still alive, and mothers everywhere were 
 praying for the restoration of the captives to 
 their friends. 
 
 The fate of the Germain family was not 
 unlike that of others in those troubulous times. 
 John Germain was a poverty-stricken farmer 
 at Blue Ridge, Fannin County, Georgia, when 
 he returned from service in the Confederate 
 Army in the Civil War. Contending armies 
 had pillaged and devastated his neighbor- 
 hood. Germain decided that he would recruit 
 his broken fortune by moving west. With a 
 yoke of oxen and his wife and children, he 
 set out in April, 1870, halting for a time in 
 central Tennessee, where he remained until 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 287 
 
 the following September. Southern Missouri 
 invited him further westward, and he moved 
 to that State, where he took a homestead and 
 lived three years. He was sick and discour- 
 aged, and continued his way to Elgin, Kansas. 
 Unrelenting misfortune met him at every turn. 
 His children, as he believed, were predisposed 
 to tuberculosis. On the other side of the 
 Plains was Colorado with its mountain air 
 and its pure water. Germain yoked his oxen 
 and once more started for the promised land. 
 
 Catherine Germain, the oldest of the four 
 captured sisters, has related the incidents of 
 that journey and its final catastrophe in these 
 words : 
 
 "We left Elgin August 10, 1874. We jour- 
 neyed along till we came to the Smoky Hill 
 River. Here we were told by the people liv- 
 ing along the line that we had better keep 
 along the river, so we could get water. They 
 said we could not get water if we went along 
 the railroad. And if we took the old trail by 
 the river we would not see a house for over 
 a hundred miles. We took the river road 
 and everything seemed perfectly quiet. We 
 met several persons on our several days' 
 journey up the river. 
 
 "Father said we would start early and 
 make Fort Wallace the last day. I knew that 
 
288 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 he felt uneasy all that lonely way, but we 
 had no indications of danger, and now we 
 were so near to the settlement he seemed 
 more at ease. 
 
 "It was September 11. We were just 
 starting as the sun began to peep over the 
 hills. Father took his gun and started on 
 ahead of the wagon. My brother and I had 
 gone to drive the cows along. We were driv- 
 ing two cows and two yearlings. We had 
 just turned them toward the moving wagon 
 when we heard yells. 
 
 "On looking we saw Indians dashing down 
 upon the wagon and father. We were about 
 a hundred yards off and we started to run in 
 a northeastern direction. We got something 
 like a half mile but we were followed by the 
 Indians. Brother was killed and I was taken 
 back to the wagon, only to see that father, 
 mother and my oldest sister had been killed. 
 Then they killed my sister younger than me. 
 They thought they were taking the four young- 
 est because I was smaller than my sister they 
 killed last. This was all done in a very short 
 time. 
 
 "Leaving the wreck behind, they then 
 started south, and took the cattle along some 
 distance; then they killed them, ate what they 
 wanted and left the carcasses lay. That after- 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 289 
 
 noon a thunderstorm came up and the rain 
 poured down, but we had no shelter. When 
 they stopped for the night they tried to fix 
 blankets up for shelter, but made a poor at- 
 tempt at it. There were nineteen Indians, 
 seventeen men and two squaws. The little 
 squaw (we called her) seemed very sorry for 
 us and would try to prepare something for us 
 to eat, but the big one was of a different na- 
 ture and not much inclined to do anything 
 for our benefit. If anything was done to make 
 our distress greater, she seemed to enjoy it 
 hugely. 
 
 "These Indians had left their main tribe 
 on the plains of Texas and come on a raiding 
 tour. There was a raiding party of about a 
 hundred in the country at that time. We did 
 not see the big party." 
 
 When an Indian war party moves rapidly 
 over long distances in dangerous country, the}^ 
 become fagged just as do white men. When 
 this band reached the Arkansas, a halt was 
 made to forage for meat. Cattle were killed 
 wherever they could be found, and the carcasses 
 abandoned to wolves after the Indians had 
 eaten their fill. The party seemed fearful that 
 soldiers were following them. 
 
 "We travelled at a lively gait and I know 
 they were expecting to be followed," wrote 
 
 19D 
 
290 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Catherine. "They scarcely spoke above a 
 whisper. We travelled speedily till toward 
 morning, then stopped till daylight. We 
 were pretty hungry some days, for we did not 
 have our meals very regular; once a day and 
 sometimes not that often. Julia and Ad- 
 die, the little ones, were kept together. 
 Sophia and I were not allowed to be to- 
 gether, only now and then we got together for 
 a while. When we came to the Canadian River 
 the Indians seemed very uneasy, and hid in 
 the hills, hollows and brush for three days. 
 The troops had been that way only a short time 
 before we got there. The wagon trails were 
 fresh yet. They left the Canadian on the third 
 night and travelled nearly all night. Then for 
 several days we travelled across the highland 
 between the Canadian and Red rivers. 
 
 "When we came to the hills of the Red river 
 they took to travelling at night again. We had 
 been travelling on this night about two hours, 
 and I should think it was somewhere about 
 11 o'clock, when all of a sudden they became 
 confused and held a whispered consultation. 
 Whatever their fright was, they went around it, 
 and travelled at a very lively rate for a while. 
 When they stopped to rest a little I was given 
 permission to get off my horse. I was so tired 
 I threw myself on the ground. When I lay 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 291 
 
 there I thought I heard the distant barking of 
 a dog and it made me feel glad to think that 
 there might soon be a chance for the deliver- 
 ance of us four helpless girls. We resumed our 
 travelling till nearly day and stopped in a can- 
 yon. When I awoke the sun was shining 
 around. They went iip the canyon some dis- 
 tance, then came out on the prairie where 
 thousands of buffaloes were feeding. The buf- 
 faloes did not seem to be very much afraid of 
 any one. We were probably a mile from where 
 we came out of the canyon. The Indians be- 
 came greatly alarmed, saddled fresh horses and 
 started in the direction we came, only a little 
 more northwest. 
 
 "My little sisters were sitting on the ground. 
 Two Indian men were there. These two In- 
 dians often carried them on their horses, and 
 I thought that was what they would do now; 
 but I wanted to see, so I held my horse back. 
 They saw me lagging behind, so they came up 
 and drove me on, but blamed the horse be- 
 cause he was lame and they thought he stayed 
 of his own accord. After a while I saw those 
 two Indians who were last with Julia and Ad- 
 die, and also that my little sisters were not 
 with them. I felt that we would all be better 
 off if we were out of our misery, but I did not 
 like to think of their little bodies being left out 
 
292 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 there for the bufi'aloes to tramp over and the 
 wolves to eat. As soon as I got a chance I told 
 Sophia that they had killed Julia and Addie, and 
 all she said was, 'they are better off than we 
 are.' But God had a hand in that work, and 
 I believe you will agree with me when I say 
 He wrought a miracle and those little girls 
 were taken care of. I never saw the little ones 
 any more till June, 1875, when I met them at 
 Fort Leavenworth." 
 
 After abandoning these two little girls, each 
 of whom was less than ten years old, the In- 
 dians began pressing forward more rapidly than 
 ever, to reach the vast solitudes of the Pan- 
 handle plains country, where the main body of 
 Cheyennes had gone, and which the raiders 
 reached after a three days' flight. The Chey- 
 ennes now divided into small parties, each going 
 in different direction, to confuse the trails, and 
 make pursuit by the soldiers laborious and dif- 
 ficult. Sophia and Catherine became separ- 
 ated, each going with a different band. Sophia 
 was first in discovering that her two little sis- 
 ters were alive — they had been found by other 
 Indians. Julia said that she and Adelaide cried 
 when they saw the Indians ride away, because 
 they were afraid to be alone in such a strange 
 wild place, and did not know where to find 
 water or anything to eat. They stood in dread 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 293 
 
 of the buffaloes, hundreds of which were near 
 at hand. As the Indians rode away, they mo- 
 tioned to the little girls to follow them. This 
 they tried to do, but finally lost the trail. They 
 were abandoned September 25. Sophia scarcely 
 had time to embrace the little ones before she 
 was carried away by the band that held her 
 captive. 
 
 Julia and Addie were with Chief Gray 
 Beard's band of Gheyennes. General Miles 
 was pressing the Indians upon all sides. His 
 command was superior to the combined forces 
 of all the hostiles in the southwest and the lat- 
 ter could have been annihilated in a single en- 
 gagement had it been possible to attack them in 
 a position where their only alternative would 
 have been to fight their way out. But the In- 
 dians were too shrewd to be caught in a trap, 
 and were running and dodging in every direc- 
 tion — their trails crossed and re-crossed and 
 doubled back and turned aside until they were 
 a confused jumble. The Indians knew the 
 country as accurately as a stream follows its 
 own windings. The only fact plain to the scouts 
 was that the hostiles were trying to escape to 
 the Staked Plains. In this uninhabited and 
 practically waterless region a large body of 
 troops would have been badly handicapped in 
 its pursuit of small bands of the enemy, as the 
 
294 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 latter could move more rapidly and with greater 
 comfort, and in time exhaust the endurance of 
 troops travelling in more or less compact for- 
 mation. 
 
 General Miles embraced every opportunity 
 to employ the tactics of the Indians, and it'was 
 the result of this kind of strategy that brought 
 Lieutenant Baldwin and his scouts within strik- 
 ing distance of Gray Bear's band on McClellan 
 Creek. The Indians were so hard-pressed that 
 they were forced to abandon Julia and Adelaide 
 and much camp equipment. I remember vivid- 
 ly the appearance of the deserted camp. We 
 had ridden almost past it when somebody 
 noticed that a pile of buffalo hides seemed to 
 be moving up and down. Pulling the hides 
 aside, we were astonished at finding two little 
 white girls, who proved to be Julia and Adel- 
 aide. They were pitiable objects. Hunger 
 and privation had reduced them to mere skele- 
 tons, and their little hands and fingers were 
 so thin that they resembled bird's claws. The 
 children were trembling with fright, but upon 
 seeing that we were white men their terror 
 changed to a frenzy of joy, and their sobs and 
 tears made hardened frontiersmen turn away 
 to hide their own emotion. The children said 
 that they had not been mis-treated by the men. 
 The squaws, however, had forced them to work 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 295 
 
 beyond their strength. The little girls were sent 
 to Fort Leavenworth. Their rescue took place 
 November 8, 1874. 
 
 Catherine and Sophia Germain were now 
 far out on the Staked Plains. We had fought 
 the Indians — principally Cheyennes, with a few 
 Kiowas — at Tule Canyon on Red River, but 
 without capturing them. General Miles, fear- 
 ful that the two captives might be wantonly 
 killed by the Indians, when the latter found 
 themselves in increasing danger of attack or 
 capture, employed a Mexican mixed-blood at 
 Fort Sill to go to the hostile camp in the Staked 
 Plains with a secret message to the Germain 
 girls telling them Julia and Adelaide were sale 
 and in the hands of friends, and not to become 
 discouraged. This message fell into the hands 
 of Catherine. It was written on the back of a 
 photograph of Julia and Adelaide that had 
 been made by W. P. Bliss, shortly after they 
 were found by Lieutenant Baldwin's command. 
 
 The Cheyennes that had fled to the Staked 
 Plains were under the redoubtable Chief Stone 
 Calf. General Miles sent a formal demand for 
 surrender to Stone Calf, with the specific provi- 
 sion that Catherine and Sophia Germain should 
 be brought back alive. Stone Calf and his fol- 
 lowers surrendered March 1, 1875, about seven- 
 
296 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 ty-five miles west of the Darlington Indian 
 Agency. 
 
 "Just before the sun set," wrote Catherine 
 Germain, "we came to the soldiers' camp. They 
 stood at the side of the trail cheering. We 
 stopped, but I could hardly say anything, and 
 when I think of it now a lump rises in my 
 throat. Oh, I was so glad. I thought I had 
 never seen such white people. They looked as 
 white as snow, but of course they were no whiter 
 than the average people, but my being accus- 
 tomed to the red people was why they seemed 
 so white and pretty. I just lacked a few days 
 of being 18 years old when we were re-captured, 
 and Sophia was past twelve. We were at the 
 Cheyenne Agency (Darlington) three months." 
 
 The warriors who surrendered with Stone 
 Calf were stood in a row by General Miles, and 
 the Germain girls asked to point out those who 
 had engaged in the murder of the other mem- 
 bers of the Germain family, or who had mis- 
 treated the captives. They pointed out seventy- 
 five Indians, all of whom afterwards were sent 
 to Florida as prisoners of war. 
 
 General Miles induced the United States 
 government to appropriate the sum of $10,000 
 for the benefit of the four girls. He was their 
 guardian for two or three years. They were 
 educated at the expense of the military branch 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 297 
 
 of the Government. All the girls married, and 
 some of them are still living. 
 
 The Miles Campaign demonstrated that if 
 there should be further Indian outbreaks it 
 would be well to mave a garrison within easy 
 striking distance of the route that led to the 
 Staked Plains. Fort Elliott was established as 
 a permanent garrison in the spring of 1875. I 
 was with the party that selected the site. I was 
 attached as scourt at Fort Elliott, and remained 
 in service at that place until 1883. I was the 
 last scout to be relieved of duty at that post, 
 and when I went away the buffalo was becom- 
 ing a rare animal on the Plains and the Indian 
 was down and out. 
 
 Cattlemen began going into the Panhandle 
 as the Indians went* out. I remember how 
 greatly I was surprised when I arrived at the 
 Goodnight ranch one day in 1877, and found 
 two white ladies — Mrs. Goodnight, who had 
 joined her husband the previous year, and Mrs. 
 Willingham, whose husband was afterwards 
 superintendent of the Turkey Track outfit. 
 Both were refined, educated women. I often 
 think how helpful such women as Mrs. Good- 
 night and Mrs. Willingham have been to Pan- 
 handle communities. It required some grit for 
 men to live there in those days, and for women 
 
298 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 the trials and burdens must have been disheart- 
 ening. 
 
 The Staked Plains, by reason of the scar- 
 city of water in summer, opposed great danger 
 to troops in moving through that part of the 
 country. I was with Captain Nicholas Nolan, in 
 command of Troop A, Tenth United States 
 Cavalry, in that memorable experience in Aug- 
 ust, 1877, in which the detachment barely es- 
 caped death from thirst. Captain Nolan was 
 in pursuit of the Quohada band of Comanches, 
 who had slipped away from their reservation 
 at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. Far out on the 
 Staked Plains we joined forces with a party of 
 buffalo-hunters who had organized to fight the 
 Indians. Captain Nolan told the buffalo-hunt- 
 ers that if they would help him find the Indians 
 he would agree to do all the fighting, and as- 
 sured them that he would do the work to their 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Reports were brought in that the Indians 
 were only a short distance away, and that it 
 might be possible to overtake them by movJng 
 quickly. In the excitement, many of the sol- 
 diers as well as the buff alo-hunters forgot to fill 
 their canteens with water. The Indians eluded 
 us, the men were soon out of water, and a dif- 
 ference of opinion arose as to where the nearest 
 water could be found. Some were in favor of 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 299 
 
 trying for the Double Lakes and some for the 
 Laguna Plata. I had been over this country 
 from the north, not from the direction we were 
 travelling. The men and horses were in a de- 
 plorable condition. 
 
 Captain Nolan told Lieutenant Cooper to 
 take the course with his compass, which was 
 set east by south ten degrees. The buffalo- 
 hunters feared the distance was too great, and 
 started in another direction, for Laguna 
 Plata. Captain Nolan thought the Double 
 Lakes were further west than I did. We argued 
 over the route until about 3 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, when he told me to go the way I thought 
 was right. I at once turned more to the north- 
 east. About 5 o'clock I waived my hat to attract 
 the attention of the command, and an orderly 
 came forward. I sent word to Captain Nolan 
 that I thought I saw the Double Lakes. Hap- 
 pily, I was not mistaken. We had to dig for 
 water, and 11 o'clock had passed before the 
 horses were able to quench their thirst. 
 
 The sufferings of both men and horses were 
 terrible, and all the way to the Double Lakes 
 our trail was strewn with cast-off clothing and 
 equipment. The buffalo-hunters were in no 
 less desperate straits, many of them, like the 
 soldiers, dropping down to die along the way. 
 Horses were killed that their blood might be 
 
300 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 drank to assuage the fever of burning throats 
 and tongues. The butf alo-hunters finally reached 
 water at the Casa Amarilla. Both outfits car- 
 ried water back to fallen comrades and revived 
 them. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 RETURNING to civilian life in 1883, I struck 
 north from Fort Elliott and went over on 
 the Canadian River, in what is now Hutchinson 
 county, Texas, and hired to a big cow outfit that 
 became widely known as the Turkey Track 
 Ranch, owned by a Scotch syndicate, and then 
 inanaged by C. B. Willingham. That same year 
 I filed on two sections of land on Bent Creek, 
 taking in the site of the original Adobe Walls 
 ruins. I built my house right at the west edge 
 of the old sod building which by that time 
 stock had rubbed to the ground. In the front 
 yard, however, when the south wind swept the 
 dirt clear, could still be seen the foundations 
 of the old ruins. Whoever built those walls 
 certainly built them well. 
 
 When I homesteaded my two sections of 
 school land and built my house at Adobe Walls, 
 I expected to live there the balance of my days, 
 contented and happy. Everything was to my 
 liking — pure air, good water, fruitful soil, game, 
 and room enough for a man to turn round 
 without stepping on some fellows toes. It was 
 the land of my boyhood dreams, and I was 
 satisfied. 
 
 I improved my ranch in many ways. I di- 
 
'Billy'' Dixon, as He Appeared in Recent Years. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 303 
 
 verted the course of Bent Greek until its clear, 
 swift waters flowed almost at my doorstep, and 
 was able to undertake extensive irrigation, i 
 planted an orchard of 200 carefully selected 
 trees, consisting of apples, peaches, pears, 
 plums, apricots and cherries, together with a 
 small vineyard. I am confident that this was 
 the first orchard ever planted in Hutchinson 
 county, perhaps in the northern Panhandle. It 
 was well irrigated, and the orchard thrived as- 
 tonishingly. There was not a better orchard in 
 the southwest, and some of the trees are still 
 standing. In my yard I set out a number of 
 cottonwoods which grew rapidly and became 
 big, strong trees, affording generous shade in 
 hot summer. I am sure that my thirty acres 
 of alfalfa was the first ever seen in that section. 
 For many years it produced an unfaihng and 
 profitable crop. 
 
 In those days our nearest postoflice was 
 Zulu, on Palo Duro, twenty-five or thirty miles 
 distant. One day L. B. Miller, then district at- 
 torney, now practicing law at AUenreed, Texas, 
 was at the Turkey Track Ranch. He heard 
 about the way we had to go for mail, and said 
 that he would have a postoffice established at 
 the ranch and make me postmaster. I received 
 my commission and was postmaster at Adobe 
 Walls for nearly twenty years, first at the ranch 
 
304 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 and later at my home. When I moved down to 
 my own place I opened a little store, carrying 
 in stock such simple things as would supply 
 cowboy trade. It may cause a smile when I 
 say that my two most important articles of 
 merchandise were candy and chewing gum. 
 No schoolgirl could be as foolish as a cowboy 
 about candy and chewing gum. The boys 
 seemed to crave such things, and bought more 
 candy and chewing gum than they did tobacco. 
 
 The little log house, to be seen in an ac- 
 companying illustration, stands on the ruins of 
 the first Adobe Walls. I built the house in 
 1883, shortly after I filed on my claim. It is 
 fourteen feet square, and stands a mile south 
 of where the fight took place. 
 
 The illustration showing the bluff on the 
 east side of Adobe Walls Creek is a excellent 
 view of the landscape. In coming to attack 
 Adobe Walls in the early morning, the Indians 
 rode up the valley from the right, and were 
 first discovered near the grove of trees. 
 
 Mine was a happy life in my cabin at Adobe 
 Walls, wdthout fret or worry, and with abi<nd- 
 ance of everything for my simple needs. Dur- 
 ing a greater part of the year wild ducks and 
 geese frequented the Canadian and its tribu- 
 taries, literally by thousands, and deer and 
 turkey were commonly found along the creeks. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 305 
 
 The meat of the buffalo, in my opinion, 
 had a much better taste than beef, and was more 
 easily digested. I was always a big meat eater, 
 and often long for a good fat buffalo steak 
 broiled over a camp-fire in the way "Frenchie," 
 my old cook, used to broil it. When we were 
 camped on a creek where wild turkeys were 
 plentiful, we would kill fifteen or twenty and 
 stew a potful of gizzards, hearts and livers. 
 This was best of all, a dish fit for a king, and 
 a man who never ate it can have no idea how 
 good it was. 
 
 I lived here as a bachelor until I married 
 in 1894, after which I continued at Adobe Walls 
 until about 1902, when I sold my ranch and 
 moved to Plemons, Texas. There 1 lived two 
 years, and found living in town worse than it 
 could have been in jail. I decided to go still 
 further west, and in 1906 homesteaded a claim 
 in what was then known as Beaver County, 
 Oklahoma, once called "No Man's Land." My 
 place was in sight of Buffalo Springs, and on the 
 north line of the Panhandle. 
 
 A change in local conditions began in 1887. 
 In that year a good many "nesters," small farm- 
 ers began coming in and taking up the land. 
 They were bitterly opposed by the big cow out- 
 fits, none of which wanted to see the country 
 fenced, and felt that the settlers were intruding 
 
 20D 
 
306 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 into a country where they did not belong and 
 where they certainly were not wanted. I rather 
 think that the cow outfits felt that they had won 
 the country from the Indians and were en- 
 titled to it by right of conquest and occupancy. 
 But the "nesters" forced the cow outfits to 
 leave, just as the buffalo-hunters and the sol- 
 diers had made the Indians depart. Today the 
 despised "nester" is the bone and sinew of the 
 Panhandle country, and whatever social and 
 material advancement the country had made 
 should be credited mostly to those who built 
 homes and school houses and churches, and 
 tamed the wild land to the crops of civiliza- 
 tion. I do not wish to say anything against the 
 cow-men. They were big-hearted, generous 
 fellows, who followed their own way as they 
 saw it. Between the two classes there was 
 much conflict; time, however, solves its prob- 
 lems, and solved them in the Panhandle. 
 
 Among the small stockmen who moved 
 their families to the Panhandle in 1887 were 
 the Lards, Ledricks and Walstads, all coming 
 down from Kansas. The Lard and Ledrick 
 families located on Chicken Creek. The Wal- 
 stad family lived first on Wolf Creek, moving 
 later to the "flats" in Ochiltree County. The 
 Walstads were sturdy Norwegians and not 
 afraid to work. To improve their place on the 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 307 
 
 "flats", they cut cedar pickets in Government 
 Canyon, ten miles away, and "snaked" them 
 up the steep bluffs with a horse — the place 
 was too rough for a team to descend. Never- 
 theless, they constructed a good-sized, com- 
 fortable dwelling out of these pickets, and 
 covered it with dirt. Water was scarce on 
 the "flats," the Walstads hauling it ten or 
 fifteen miles the first year. Mr. Walstad un- 
 dertook to dig a well by hand, something that 
 no man before nor since has ever tried in 
 that country. He was not financially able to 
 bore a well, and did not know that it was 
 anywhere from 300 to 400 feet to water. He 
 got down about 200 feet and threw up the 
 sponge — the sponge was dry. 
 
 The girls in the Walstad family were all 
 splendid riders, as good as could be found 
 in the Panhandle, and could rope a cow or 
 a horse as easily as a man. They rode long 
 distances after stock in all kinds of weather. 
 
 The Lards and Ledricks prospered on 
 Chicken Creek. Henry Ledrick had been a 
 post-trader in Kansas, and had lost all his 
 property as the result of Indian raids. The 
 Government afterwards compensated him for 
 his losses. By intermarriage these families 
 have established themselves in many of the 
 Panhandle counties. 
 
308 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 For years I was justice of the peace in 
 Hutchinson County. The hardest job I ever 
 tackled was to perform a marriage ceremony, 
 though I married many couples. Ministers 
 were as scarce as buffaloes, and when a couple 
 decided to get "spliced" they went to the 
 
 Dixon Orchard at Adobe Walls. 
 
 nearest justice of the peace or county judge. 
 My usual embarassment in marying a couple 
 was once increased beyond measure. I had 
 grown to be very fond of a young lady who 
 lived with Mrs. Willingham on the Turkey 
 Track, but had never been able to muster 
 courage to tell her how much I thought of her 
 and to ask her to marry me. Well, a pesky 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 309 
 
 cowboy did what I had not been able to do, 
 and the two came to have me tie the conjugal 
 knot. I thought that it was hard enough to 
 lose the girl, but to be asked to marry her 
 to another fellow was certainly tough. 
 
 Some of the large outfits controlled entire 
 counties for range purposes — and the Pan- 
 handle counties were big counties. The Hans- 
 ford Land & Cattle Company (the "Turkey 
 Track" outfit) run 50,000 head of cattle at one 
 time, and ranged over thousands of acres of 
 land. 
 
 The Turkey Track outfit tried to escape 
 the inevitable by buying out "nester" who 
 came into the country in the late 80's, and in 
 this way held all the land, save mine at Abode 
 Walls. The Texas legislature opened up the 
 land to purchase and settlement, and in the 
 90's the settlers began coming and could not 
 be stopped. They settled first along the creeks 
 and then spread to the uplands. I was State 
 land commissioner for Hutchinson County and 
 did a thriving business. 
 
 The people petitioned the Legislature that 
 Hutchinson County be detached from Roberts 
 County, and given a separate organization. 
 Their petition was granted. An election was 
 called for the election of County officers. 
 Much ill feeling had grown up between the 
 
310 Life of **Billy" Dixon 
 
 settlers and the cow outfits, especially the 
 Turkey Track people who had opposed the 
 making of a new county. The election was 
 bitterly contested, the Turkey Track outfit 
 taking an active part, to control the results. 
 I was elected sheriff, not because I sought the 
 office, but because I had lived in the country 
 so long that I was widely known. I was 
 ignorant of politics and the ways of politicians. 
 I became disgusted and resigned my office, 
 rather than be forced into strife that was not 
 to my liking, and went back to the quietude 
 of Abode Walls. The County Judge also 
 resigned. When a man gets mixed up in 
 politics he is soon travelling a rocky road. 
 
 However, I do not hold enmity against 
 anybody. Many changes have taken place in 
 Hutchinson County since that time, and today 
 it is settled with law-abiding, prosperous stock- 
 men and farmers. The Turkey Track sold out 
 to a Kansas coriipany, who also bought my 
 place at Abode Walls. 
 
 I married Miss Olive King in 1894. She 
 had come from Virginia to visit her brothers, 
 Albert and Archie King, and the winter before 
 we were married she had taught school on the 
 south side of the Canadian, between Reynolds 
 and Tallahone Creeks. This school house was 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 311 
 
 built of round cottonwood logs, covered with 
 dirt, and was about ten feet square. 
 
 I had always been rather bashful in the 
 presence of women, rarely having had oppor- 
 tunity to meet them in a social way. Merely 
 the sight of a good-looking woman coming in 
 my direction made me feel like leaving the 
 trail. How I ever managed to ask my wife 
 to marry me has always been a mystery, made 
 even more remarkable by the fact that she 
 consented. I have always insisted that she 
 did the proposing, but could say no more when 
 she reminded me of the time we were riding 
 together and watered our horses at Garden 
 Springs one September afternoon, and of the 
 promise I made her at that time. 
 
 We were married October 18, 1894, on 
 Reynolds Creek at the home of a Portugese 
 family named Lewis, where my wife had 
 boarded during the winter. The Lewis's were 
 running about 200 head of cattle and had a 
 comfortable home. Mrs. Lewis was a culti- 
 vated woman. She spoke English brokenly, 
 and to make herself more familiar with the 
 language had induced my wife to live with 
 her. Mrs. Lewis had been a good friend of 
 mine for several years, and I suspect that it 
 was largely through her influence that I got 
 the girl I so greatly admired. 
 
312 
 
 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 We have been living together nearly nine- 
 teen years. She has borne me a family of 
 which I feel that I am justly proud, and has 
 stood by me in all my ups and downs. It is 
 largely through her efforts that these remi- 
 niscences are pubhshed. I never took the 
 interest that I should in setting down these 
 matters, and realize that the work should have 
 
 An Adobe Corral Built bij ''Billy" Dixon. 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 313 
 
 been done years ago, in obedience to the re- 
 quests of life-long friends. 
 
 We were married by a Methodist minister, 
 the Rev. C. V. Bailey, who drove seventy-five 
 miles from Mobeetie to perform the ceremony. 
 After our marriage, my wife for a period of 
 three years, was the only woman who actually 
 lived in Hutchinson County. She may have 
 grown a bit lonesome, but if she did she never 
 said anything about it. I had the advantage 
 of being able to say, without making any other 
 man angry, that I had the best looking woman 
 in the County. It was not every woman who 
 had lived in a thickly settled community all 
 her life that would have been willing to settle 
 down at Abode Walls. 
 
 When Patten, Price & Hyde, the Kansas 
 cattlemen, bought the Turkey Track range and 
 stock, I sold my place at Abode Walls to them. 
 My older children by this time were in need 
 of schooling. The settlers were so few that 
 there was no neighborhood school, so we 
 moved to Plemons and lived there for two 
 years before locating in Cimarron County, 
 then Beaver County, which is settled by the 
 best type of rugged American citizenship. 
 They are temperate, law-abiding, industrious 
 people. Most of them were poor at the begin- 
 ning, and many have had a hard time getting 
 
314 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 started. All have the true western spirit. If 
 a settler is in trouble, caused by sickness, death 
 or other unavoidable misfortune, his neighbors 
 are always ready to help him, even putting in 
 his crops for him. 
 
 I am often questioned about my experi- 
 ences on the frontier, as if the life had been 
 filled with unbearable hardships, to be shunned 
 and forgotten. Gladly would I live it all over 
 again, such is my cast of mind and my hunger 
 for the freedom of the big wide places. I 
 would run the risks and endure all the hard- 
 ships that were naturally ours just for the 
 contentment and freedom to be found in such 
 an outdoor life. I should be unspeakably 
 happy once more to feast on buffalo meat and 
 other wild game cooked on a camp-fire, sour 
 dough biscuit and black coffee, that latter 
 drank from a quart cup. 
 
 But those days are gone and forever, and 
 we must content ourselves with the present 
 and make the best of our opportunities. Com- 
 ing generation will never know the trials and 
 hardships we endured. We helped build a 
 great empire in the west. 
 
 Let it be governed justly and made to 
 serve the needs of humanity. 
 THE END. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Fight at Adobe Walls Frontispiece 
 
 From an oil painting by Miss Gwynfred Jones, 
 Hansford, Texas, from her sketches of the 
 battleground, as corrected by "Billy" Dixon. 
 
 Buflaloes — ""Just As They Looked in the 
 
 Old Daysr 28 
 
 Satank, the Old Tiger of the Kiowas 58 
 
 Indian Ration Day at Fort Sill, Oklahoma 64 
 
 Wood-Hauler Found Scalped Near Fort 
 
 Dodge 82 
 
 There are few photographs of this kind in 
 existence. 
 
 ''Billy'* Dixon in His Prime as a Scout 
 
 and Plainsman 106 
 
 Indian Camp of Buffalo Hide Tepees 128 
 
 In this camp Chief Kicking Bird, Kiowa, was 
 poisoned by his enemies, because of his un- 
 willingness to sanction the Indian warfare 
 against the United States government. 
 
 James H. Cator, Zula, Texas, Panhandle 
 
 Pioneer 160 
 
 ''Billy" Dixon's Log Homestead on Site of 
 
 Original Adobe Walls 172 
 
 Chief Quanah Parker of the Comanches 202 
 
316 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 Page. 
 
 High Bluff East of Adobe Walls on which 
 
 Dixon Killed Indian at 1200 Yards 232 
 
 Ermoke and His Band of Murderous Kio- 
 wa Raiders 256 
 
 These Indians are typical of the kind that 
 roamed the Plains country. 
 
 Drew Dixon, Son of "Billy" Dixon— 'A 
 
 Sure Shot, Like His Father*' 274 
 
 **Billy" Dixon, as He Appeared in Recent 
 
 Years 302 
 
 Dixon Orchard at Adobe Walls 308 
 
 Adobe Corral Built by ''Billy'' Dixon 312 
 
INDEX 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 Preface — Introductory — What "Bat" Masterson Said of 
 "Billy" Dixon — How the Story of His Life Was 
 Written — ^Mrs. Dixon's Devoted Industry in Setting 
 Down the Facts of Her Husband's Life — Facina- 
 tion of the Plains Country 10 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Dixon's Birth and Boyhood — Death of His Parents — 
 From West Virginia to Home of Uncle in Mis- 
 souri — Lured by Romance of Plains, the Boy 
 Starts in Search of Adventure — Reaches Leaven- 
 worth, Kas., and jBecomts a Bull -Whacker — 
 Across the Plains — Hires to Farmer McCall 17 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 To Fort Harker with a Drove of "Shave-tails" — Kills 
 His First Buffalo — The Medicine Lodge Treaty — 
 Approaching Indians — Stirring Scenes — General 
 Harney — Satanta and Htis Horse — Back to Fort 
 Harker — Prairie Fires 4t> 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 To Baxter Springs, Kas., in 1868 — Hauling Munitions 
 of War to Camp Supply for the Custer Expedi- 
 tion — All the Mules Stampede in Harness — Now 
 Eighteen Years Old and as Hard as Nails — Begins 
 Hunting Buffaloes for their Hides — Establishes a 
 Road Ranch South of Hays City — Lost at Night.... 76 
 
318 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Page. 
 Dodge City in 1872 — Dixon Never Danced or Gambled 
 — "Cranky" MoCabe — Dangerous Country South of 
 the Arkansas — Indian Scare — Name at Boiling 
 Spring on the South Pawnee — Sham Duel — On the 
 Cimarron in 1873 — Prowling Cheyennes — Company 
 M and the Al Frio — History of Buffalo Spring 104 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Down in the Texas Panhandle — Ruins of Original 
 Adobe Walls — Back to Dodge City— Fitting Out of 
 Big Expedition to Hunt Buffaloes — The Tempest- 
 uous and Spectacular Fairchild — Night Camp in 
 the Plains Country — Dancing on a Dry Buffalo 
 Hide — Floods and Quicksands — Meets Jim and Bob 
 Cator — Fun with Fairchild 142 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 The Buffalo -Hunters Establish Themselves at Adobe 
 Walls and Erect Buildings — Origin of old Adobe 
 Walls — A Long Circle in Search of the Best Hunt- 
 ing Grounds — Roaring of the Vast Herd — Business 
 Begins in Earnest — Caught in Canadian Quick- 
 sands — ^News at Adobe Walls of Indian Outbreaks 
 — Dixon Forms Hunting Partnership with Han- 
 rahan — Location of Buildings at Adobe Walls — 
 Fancied Security 171 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. 
 
 A Thousand Indians Attack Adobe Walls at Dawn — 
 Dixon Tries to Save His Horse — Escape of Billy 
 Ogg— The First Mighty Warwhoop— The Battle 
 Begins — Indians Charge to the Sound of a Bugle — 
 Bugler Shot — Dixon's Marksmanship — Indians no 
 Match for Hunters — Running for Supply of Am- 
 munition — The Shadlers and Billy Tyler Killed.... 200 
 
Adobe Walls, Texas Panhandle 319 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Page. 
 Dixon s Fall in Rath's Store— Companions Fear He is 
 Shot — ^Dead Wari^ior's Lanae — Dismal Cawing- of 
 Pet Crow— Wounded Horses— Killing an Indian at 
 1200 Yards— Henry Lease Goes for Help— Old Man 
 Bellfleld and the Black Flag — Death of William 
 Olds — Lost Relics 218 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Depredations of Indians— Quanah Parker — Buffalo- 
 Hunting Abandoned — Departure for Dodge City 
 
 Dixon Becomes a Scout Under General Miles — 
 Back to Adobe Walls with Lieutenant Frank Bald- 
 win—Indians Kill George Huffman in Sight of 
 Soldiers— Terror of the Negro Cook— Pleasing 
 Story of Dixon's Dog Fannie and Her Pups 237 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Dixon's Most Perilous Adventure — Buffalo Wallow 
 Fight— Terrible Suffering of Wounded Compan- 
 ions — Rescues Amos Chapman — Indians Charging 
 Upon all Sides— Saved by a Cold September Rain 
 —The Long, Dreary Night— Death of Smith— Dixon 
 Starts for Aid— Meets Wagon Train Escorted by 
 Major Price — Heartless Indifference to Wounded 
 Men — Help Comes from General Miles— The Medal 
 of Honor Awarded 254 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Blizzard Experience—Shooting at Jack Stilwell's Ear— 
 Indignaition and Horror of Old Army Officer — 
 Rescue of the Germain Captives — Finding of Julia 
 and Adelaide in Gray Beard's Deserted Camp — ^Piti- 
 able Objects — Catherine and Sophia Carried to the 
 Staked Plains— Restored by' Chief Stone Calf — 
 With iCaptain Nolan on v'the Staked Plains — No 
 Water— Finds Double Lakes and Saves Command.... 281 
 
320 Life of "Billy" Dixon 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Page. 
 Back to Civilian Life — Builds His Home at Old Adobe 
 Walls — Plants First Alfalfa in Panhandle — The 
 Dixon Orchard — Appointed Postmaster — Candy 
 and Chewing Gum for the Cowboys — Married in 
 1894 — Serves as Justice -of -the-Peace and Sher- 
 iff — Panhandlte Pioneers — Changinig Condttions — 
 Breaking up of Big Cattle Ranches — Dixon Goes 
 Further West to Cimarron County — Would Live it 
 All Over Again — Helped Build an Empire in the 
 West 301 
 
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