ANECDOTES OF 
 
 "Buffalo Bill" 
 
 That have never appeared in print 
 
 DAN WINGET 
 
hbl, stx 
 
 F 594.C697 1927 
 Anecdotes of Buffalo Bill which ha 
 
 F 
 
 C697 
 1927 
 
 PLEASE HANDLE 
 WITH CARE 
 
 University of 
 Connecticut Libraries 
 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 LYRASIS members and Sloan Foundation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/anecdotesofbuffa1927wing 
 
Anecdotes of 
 
 Buffalo Bill" 
 
 That have never appeared in Print 
 
 By 
 
 DAN WINGET 
 
 The Last of the Old Scouts 
 
 X^tL£fteXESS 
 
 HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 CHICAGO 
 
 1927 
 
Copyright 1927 
 D. H. WINGET 
 
AS MANY OF THE ANECDOTES 
 THAT APPEAR IN THIS BOOK 
 HAVE TO DO WITH THE EARLY 
 PART OF THE LIFE OF THE 
 
 GREAT SCOUT 
 
 THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY 
 DEDICATED TO THE 
 
 BOY SCOUTS 
 OF THE WORLD 
 
Courtesy Chicago, Burlington & Quincy R. R. 
 
Introduction 
 
 TAKE a lively youngster in 
 whose veins flows the most 
 patriotic blood of America; put him 
 in the seething Kansas of the 
 Sixties; let him be a spectator and 
 participant in some of the most 
 exciting engagements of the Civil 
 War; give him for a chum Buffalo 
 Bill; let him roam the western fron- 
 tier with the boldest spirits of the 
 age — and he will see many things 
 that will be history. 
 
 D. H. Winget had such an ex- 
 perience. His father was the famous 
 General D. P. Winget of an old 
 Scotch family; his mother was an 
 Alexander-Lee of the Alexander- 
 Lee-Custis branch of Americans, 
 who were of the same stock as 
 Martha Custis Washington. They 
 moved to Kansas when Dan Win- 
 get was a small child and he wit- 
 nessed some of the most thrilling 
 chapters in American history. 
 
Now in his home at Clinton, Iowa, Winget, a 
 hale man of seventy-seven, is writing down these 
 things. For autobiography he says: 
 
 "So you want to know more of me? Ask ancient 
 history west of the Missouri; ask the Confederate 
 prison at Atlanta; ask every mile of Kansas Ter- 
 ritory; ask Kansas City when she was known as 
 Westport Landing; ask John Brown; ask the shade 
 of General Custer; ask the shade also of Buffalo 
 Bill, my companion and "Pard," of whom this book 
 is written. 
 
 "But this is enough. If they want real Indian 
 stories, let them ask me." 
 
 We have asked Dan Winget for them, and he 
 has written for us what we believe to be the most 
 interesting frontier experiences that have befallen 
 any living man, now that his pal, Buffalo Bill, has 
 passed on. 
 
 It gives me great pleasure to credit the story of 
 the Pony Express to my good friend, Will Vischer, 
 who got this story from the lips of Buffalo Bill and 
 printed it in his book, "The Pony Express." 
 
Preface 
 
 WHEN I conceived the idea of 
 writing this series, true to life 
 as I recall the scenes and anecdotes, 
 I felt that, so far as facts were con- 
 cerned, I could do it. I have made 
 no flowery flourishes which would 
 take me from the narrow path of 
 truth. I have not dressed the stories 
 in rosy hues, to make a yellow im- 
 pression, nor have I in a single in- 
 stance departed from facts, though 
 on some exact dates I may not be 
 accurate. The names I give are real 
 names, the people of this story are 
 or were real people. Having de- 
 cided, I next asked permission of 
 my "Pard," which, with the answer 
 is reproduced by two letters, as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 Clinton, la., Oct. 17, 1911. 
 To Col. W. F. Cody. 
 
 My dear Col.: 
 
 I have conceived the idea of writing a 
 book, "Anecdotes of Buffalo Bill that 
 
have never appeared in print." I believe as well as anyone 
 now living besides yourself, I am fitted to write this. It shall 
 tell of our boyhood days, of days which we passed in the 
 west, when the west was young; of the days when history was 
 being made at the point of the pistol, and not infrequently at 
 the end of a rope. Of the days of "bad men" and bad Indians. 
 Many of the little stories you will recall and many of them 
 will have been forgotten, but you'll recall them. 
 
 I shall not go into this without your permission, and to be 
 honest with you I shall tell you now that our boyish pranks 
 shall come to the foreground, no matter if they do hit us close. 
 We were no worse than other boys and to tell the truth, we 
 were no better. 
 
 Can you stand it? 
 
 Your boyhood pard, 
 
 D. H. Winget. 
 
 Buffalo Bill's 
 Wild West 
 
 and 
 
 Pawnee Bill's 
 Far East 
 
 Enroute 
 
 Norfolk, Va., Oct. 30, 1911. 
 D. H. Winget. 
 
 My Dear Old Pard:— 
 
 You say you are going to write a book of "Anecdotes of 
 Buffalo Bill that have never appeared in print." 
 
 You have my full permission. Stick to facts, write history, 
 for in this particular line I know of no one more able to do 
 it than yourself. 
 
 Of course it may hit hard in places, but we were no better 
 than other boys. If you can stand it, I can, so fly at it. 
 And I wish you unbounded success. 
 
 Your friend and pard, 
 
 W. F. Cody, 
 
 "Buffalo Bill." 
 
 10 
 
12 
 
^g^%^v'0 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 First "Pow-Wow" 
 
 Hf^JSSff 1 ' 
 
 DREAMING 
 
 ONCE in a while a man gets to dreaming, and 
 the chances are that the past — way back- 
 will unroll itself before him, and again he will live 
 over his early days. 
 
 My pipe is lighted; it draws freely. Faces of 
 friends appear in the smoke clouds and, as I greet 
 them, they smile in recognition. Following the 
 rolling, mixing, twirling clouds, I note a face I do 
 not recall. It seems the face of a loved one gone 
 before, yet the features are indistinct. A low, sweet 
 voice I hear: 
 
 "I will be your Guiding Spirit through your 
 dream." 
 
 It settled down close to me and, as it passed my 
 face, I could almost recall the kiss of good-night 
 after I had said, 
 
 "I pray the Lord my soul to keep.'* 
 
 It was my mother. 
 
 It is not that I am bright above the average that 
 I am able to write these pages of snatches from 
 
 13 
 
14 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 history, or a patch-work of memories. It is because 
 I happened to be born about the time the history 
 of the West was in the making, and that I was 
 there. 
 
 In my time it has been my good fortune to 
 meet and become acquainted with some of the men 
 who have come into the limelight in our nation's 
 history. I have met Abraham Lincoln, General 
 Grant, Generals Custer, Pope, Miles, Mead, Blunt, 
 Sheridan, Sherman, and others of military renown. 
 
 I have met Jesse James, the outlaw; Quantrell, 
 the guerrilla; Red Cloud, the Sioux chief; Sitting 
 Bull, Big Tree, Johnnie Ross, chief of the Dela- 
 wares. 
 
 Among those who made western history, I have 
 met Wild Bill (William Hickock), Simon Slade, 
 Uncle Billy Russell, who owned the freighting 
 trains that crossed the plains, drawn by oxen and 
 mules, Pony Bob, one of the early riders of the 
 Pony Express, and W. F. Cody, the original Boy 
 Scout, who got his first Indian before he was six- 
 teen years of age. 
 
 I knew also Susan B. Anthony, the mother of 
 woman suffrage, and her brother, Col. D. R. An- 
 thony, known as the fighting editor of Kansas. 
 
 This book has not to do with Indians entirely. 
 It is not written to take a place in the line of those 
 yellow-back, blood and thunder stories of the 
 prairies, written by people who were never west of 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 15 
 
 the Ohio line or north of Kokomo, Indiana. It is 
 intended to be a hashed history, if so I may term 
 it. It does not take up the story, and follow, day 
 by day, the doings of Buffalo Bill. That would be 
 too much like the route card or itinerary of his Wild 
 West show. 
 
 This is just a bunch of anecdotes of the boy and 
 man, as they recur to me, backed by no notes or 
 data save memory. It is not a history of the King 
 of Scouts as a scout, though in the line of brave 
 men, he was the bravest. It is not a tale of the 
 Pony Express, though he was one of its first riders. 
 It is not the story of the man as a show man, 
 though he has been seen in the saddle with his 
 pageant in nearly all of the larger cities of the 
 world. 
 
 No, all this has been printed and reprinted in 
 the public press, in magazines, in books, and is to 
 many an old story. 
 
 It has been left to me, his boyhood chum and 
 "pard," to gather up the threads here and there, 
 which have been missing by the historians and story 
 writers, because they did not know, and to weave 
 them into the fabric of his life, using names as I 
 can remember them, and dates where I am sure 
 of them, but keeping so close to actual history that 
 both the writer and the one written of can sit on 
 a Bible and make affidavit to the whole. This is 
 what we might call "patchwork history." 
 
16 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 I have heard people say, speaking of Buffalo Bill, 
 that he was never on the plains, never a scout, 
 never saw an Indian, and never killed one. An 
 editor in Cheyenne where, to my certain knowledge, 
 Cody killed two Indians, writes in his "Sagebush 
 Philosophy" that Buffalo Bill never saw a hostile 
 Indian in his life, when there are at least two people 
 living in that city (James Currie and Ed Estes), 
 who were with us when Cody killed two Indians, 
 and rescued a man named Hillyard Cooper from 
 them after they had killed his wife before his eyes 
 and had securely bound him to the wheel of his 
 "moving" wagon. 
 
 Second "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE BOY AND THE SETTING 
 
 1WILL venture to say that Buffalo Bill was the 
 best known man in the United States, if not in 
 the world. I say this because I believe I can 
 prove it. 
 
 Some years ago, I mailed a letter to him from 
 Clinton, Iowa, and it reached him in London, Eng- 
 land. There was nothing on the envelope except a 
 picture of him. In 1911 I sent many letters to him 
 in this country, addressed the same way and they 
 all reached him. 
 
 As I say, many people know him as Buffalo Bill, 
 the showman, and Chief of Scouts of the United 
 States. Still a large number know him as a guide 
 and buffalo hunter. However, I am not afraid of 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 17 
 
 contradiction when I say that there is but a handful 
 who knew him as "Billy Cody," the school boy. 
 
 Well, I am one of that handful. I know him as 
 a boy — a school boy — and this is my excuse for 
 writing this, the unvarnished story of his early life, 
 with little sketches that I have never seen in print, 
 and telling as truthfully as a mirror, his and our 
 many pranks, pleasant and otherwise, as boys of 
 the wild west. 
 
 It was the wild west then, back in the "fifties." 
 True, we were boys, not young men. In this en- 
 lightened age, when our language is so plentifully 
 sprinkled with slang, we would be called kids. 
 
 And we were kids, imbued with all the ginger 
 and steam of the son of a goat; could not stand 
 still for a minute, something doing all the time; 
 our every day being Hallowe'en, and our nights 
 spent laying out the program for the coming morn. 
 Not bad kids, mind you. No better, no worse than 
 others. Just boys bubbling over with health, good 
 red blood, and on the best of terms with the world. 
 
 If in these pages there may be some things that 
 do not agree with your ideas of what the boy of 
 today should be, pass it over, for those pranks are 
 but atoms of what seems to me ancient history. 
 
 They tell of days when the West was young; of 
 the days before the noble Red Man was the fat, 
 
18 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 easy-going old grunter he is today ; of the days when 
 the friendly tribes would come to town and shoot 
 with their arrows a five-cent piece put up for a tar- 
 get; when your pet dog or cat looked to the friendly 
 Indian only as a good, square meal, and they were 
 made the victims of the bow and arrow; of the days 
 when the friendly buck or squaw would enter your 
 home without knocking and ask for "Chuckaway" 
 which, translated, means food; and when these same 
 bucks or squaws could be made to take a swift hike 
 when they saw your mother reach for the tea kettle 
 on the stove. They bore no ill feeling; they did 
 not stop to reason or explain, nor did they look 
 around; they vanished. 
 
 Those were the days when a cup of dark brown 
 sugar would buy an Indian pony from the tribe. 
 As a consequence, all of us had our own horses 
 and, as a further consequence, most of our games 
 were played on horseback. It was no uncommon 
 thing way back then, to see a whole herd of school 
 boys' ponies grazing on the playground, or stand- 
 ing patiently waiting the appearance of their young 
 masters or mistresses, for girls had their ponies, 
 too. 
 
 Billy was a splendid rider and always had a 
 splendid mount. His ponies were all trained to 
 come at his call, and there were few — very few — 
 other persons who could approach them. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 19 
 
 Third "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE ORIGINAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 THERE are thousands of Boy Scouts all over 
 the country. Has it ever occurred to you that 
 the best known scout in the world is Buffalo Bill? 
 
 It is the spirit of the scout nature that makes this 
 organization so fascinating. Take the great scout 
 Cody for your example. First, be sure you are 
 right, then go ahead. In the first place, be brave 
 — cultivate that bravery which is born in every boy. 
 Dare to do right, to be right; then have the courage 
 of your convictions, and fight for them. 
 
 Let us take the early life of the great scout. His 
 tastes were not low. His bravery &s a boy was 
 never questioned. He was open and above board 
 in all his actions. He was not two-faced. He made 
 a confidante of his father, who was an early pioneer 
 of Iowa. The two were "pards." His noble mother 
 had confidence in her boy because she knew he 
 was true. 
 
 He was the champion of the weak. In short, he 
 was a manly boy. All these things it takes to make 
 a real Boy Scout. 
 
 Are you eligible, my boy, to follow the great 
 scout? Think it over. Be on good terms with 
 your father — be his "pard." Honor your dear 
 mother — be her pride and her champion. Dare to 
 do right; dare to be true, and you will be a Boy 
 Scout worthy of the name. 
 
20 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The grand army of Boy Scouts is gradually sur- 
 rounding the civilized world and, while not directly 
 connected with this army, Buffalo Bill may safely 
 be said to be the first or original Boy Scout. At 
 the tender age of fifteen he went on his first scout. 
 
 Rumors were afloat of a band of Indians on the 
 war path and Billy Cody mounted his pony to find 
 out the truth of the matter. He rode half the night 
 and was rewarded in his search by finding a large 
 body of Cherokees. As he noted their movements, 
 he saw that they were in a state of unrest, and that 
 preparations were being made for something un- 
 usual. 
 
 After satisfying himself that all w r as not right, 
 he turned his faithful pony toward home, and, as 
 day was breaking, rode into Fort Leavenworth 
 and reported the facts. 
 
 About that time, small trains or parties of movers 
 or settlers were preparing to make the trip to the 
 far West, and already had started. On the morning 
 he rode in, a government supply train was getting 
 ready to move. Billy's news caused the commander 
 to send out a troop of cavalry instead. With them, 
 Billy rode as guide and scout. This was his first 
 trip as a scout. 
 
 Just at the point designated by him about two 
 hundred Cherokees were found, in full war paint, 
 and stripped for battle, massacre and robbery. At 
 first sight of the troops, they mounted their horses, 
 and, firing a few parting shots, dashed away, fol- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 21 
 
 lowed by the cavalry with Billy well to the front. 
 On this raid, eight able-bodied bucks were sent to 
 the Happy Hunting Ground. 
 
 Billy was brought before the commander and 
 thanked most heartily and, as a further testimonial 
 of the government's recognition of his service, was 
 presented with a fine, rangy horse, saddle and 
 bridle, a pair of "Navy" revolvers and a cavalry 
 carbine. 
 
 I tell you, Billy was proud of this, and when it 
 became known, Billy was quite a hero, and I, being 
 his chum, was just as proud as he. 
 
 The supply train moved with an escort of Uncle 
 Sam's cavalry, and many of the westward-ho travel- 
 ers dropped in behind and traveled with this strong 
 escort of soldiers. 
 
 After this all trains were sent out with a military 
 guard, and a scout or guide. Thus I claim that 
 Billy Cody was the original Boy Scout. 
 
 Though years have passed since scouts were use- 
 ful on our border, the thrilling life, the tales of 
 dangers and bravery have held a fascination for the 
 youth of all countries, and no more enticing name 
 could be found around which to gather our boys 
 than that of Scout. 
 
 The original Boy Scout is no longer in our midst. 
 He loved the good, clean American boys such as 
 are enrolled in the Boy Scout movement, and noth- 
 ing pleased him so well as to sit alone with a bunch 
 of Our Boys and hold a "pow-wow," as he termed it. 
 
22 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 I have heard the old, long-haired scout talk with 
 boys, and if his advice, as given to them, were ac- 
 cepted by every boy, America would boast a race 
 of Boy Scouts noted for their clean character, their 
 bravery, their chivalry. They would be boys and 
 young men who would look you fearlessly in the 
 eye and tell the truth. They would be brave, in 
 that they would know that they were right and 
 would fight for it. 
 
 They would honor and revere their country's flag 
 and, as I have often seen this big Boy Scout do, 
 would take off their hat to their country's emblem, 
 and should the time come when it needed defenders, 
 they would be in the first rank and on the firing 
 line, ready, if need be, to lay down their lives for 
 its honor. 
 
 That is the stuff good American Scouts are made 
 of. "They are Our Boys," said Colonel Cody, "who 
 will be our men, our rulers, our generals, our pro- 
 tectors." 
 
 In talking to a bunch of boys one day, the 
 Colonel said: 
 
 "Boys, keep your hands clean. Don't do any 
 dirty tricks of which you will be ashamed. Don't 
 be afraid to tell the truth. Be brave enough to 
 speak it, even if it goes against you. True bravery 
 never hides behind a lie. That is the coward's 
 breastworks. Keep your muscles hard, get out in 
 the air, walk, ride, take exercise. Keep up with 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 28 
 
 your studies; give your brain the same exercise you 
 do your legs and arms. A cultivated and well- 
 balanced brain is one of the things every great 
 general must have, whether it be on the battle-field 
 or in the great fight with the world as captains of 
 industry. 
 
 "Salute your fathers as your superior officers; 
 make them respect you. Show them that you are 
 coming men. Take them in your counsel, meet on 
 the level, and you will find them the nicest lot of 
 fellows you ever met. 
 
 "A true soldier and scout holds the name of 
 woman in reverence. Then, be a soldier true, and 
 a scout. Show your mother and your sister that 
 you are their protector, and that they may rely 
 upon you. Don't get out of patience. Take steps 
 for them; help them whenever you can relieve them 
 of burden. It is not the mark of a "softy" or a 
 goody-goody boy. It is the insignia of bravery, 
 of chivalry, and the proud mark of a true Boy 
 Scout of the later day. 
 
 "The same spirit that led the scout of the plains 
 to fight the Indians, and protect the weak, stands 
 in these days of civilization between the weak — our 
 mothers, our sisters, and their burdens. 
 
 "I tell you boys, if I were a boy today, I would 
 join the Boy Scouts, and make it my pride to keep 
 the name pure, and its banner unstained." 
 
 Even while still a boy, Billy Cody formed a 
 company of scouts to look out for the advance guard 
 
24 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 of border ruffians and report whenever any of them 
 crossed the river from Missouri. More than one 
 preconceived raid was broken up by "Billy Cody's 
 Boys." 
 
 Those were the days when the Missourians, or 
 pro-slavery people were looked upon as dangerous, 
 and were dangerous, for the gang embraced the 
 roughs, outlaws, and the scum of humanity. They 
 were men who were lawless and held life cheaply. 
 
 They sought the lives, not only of Isaac Cody, 
 but of several other tried and true, pronounced 
 men in favor of a free state for Kansas. If a hand- 
 ful of these resolute men could be put out of the 
 way, it would be clear sailing for those in favor 
 of slavery. 
 
 This organization was formed and led by Billy 
 Cody, and he never slept. It did seem that he was 
 constantly on the job. Our good and close chum, 
 Harry Hathway, was another we could count on. 
 Ed House, Henry Brown, Jimmy Mann, Pat 
 Malone, Ed Hastings, Little Jimmy Tool, Will 
 Winget, Dick Humphrey and Bob West were 
 others. Also some Kansas girls were alert and, not 
 infrequently, gave pointers. 
 
 Among those girls, true as steel, we recall: May 
 Cody, Helen Cody, Laura Hughes, Flora Rush, 
 Abbie Perkins, Clara Weibling, Mamie Sanders, 
 and Carrie Helling. They were true blue, and, as 
 I look at it now, they should have sailed under the 
 name of "Girl Scouts." They were all girls of 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 25 
 
 true Western mettle; girls to whom the dangers of 
 the border were well known, and for which they 
 had no terrors. God bless our girl scouts, wherever 
 they may be. 
 
 Fourth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE BOY NIGHT-HERD 
 
 BILLY CODY, at the age of twelve, got a job 
 with Wagon Master Simpson, as night-herd, 
 and his duties were to ride watch on the grazing 
 cattle. Mr. Simpson was one of those rough, big- 
 hearted men of the plains, and had taken quite a 
 notion to Billy, and it was on his promise to take 
 good care of the boy that Mrs. Cody gave her con- 
 sent to his going. 
 
 One night when his train was corralled and all 
 were peacefully sleeping in camp about a hundred 
 miles east of Salt Lake, the notorious Lot Smith, 
 the Danite, with a hundred of his white outlaws 
 (Mormons) came riding by. They were taken for 
 returning travelers and no notice taken of them 
 until they came closer. Cattle were stampeded, 
 horses were stolen, and the entire train crew forced 
 to surrender. 
 
 Simpson was wagon master, and he and a few of 
 his men had ridden quite a distance from the camp. 
 The Danites, quite a body of white men, approached 
 the camp, and those who were still awake, suppos- 
 ing them to be returning travelers, of which many 
 were encountered, suspected no treachery and ex- 
 tended them the western hospitality of the camp. 
 
26 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 This gave the Danites the opportunity they desired 
 and, drawing their guns, disarmed the few, bound 
 them, and in the same manner, secured the sleep- 
 ing drivers. 
 
 Mr. Simpson and his men also were deceived and 
 captured. Mr. Simpson, a man of iron nerve, pro- 
 ceeded to tell the Danite leader what he thought of 
 him, and this course, instead of meaning murder, 
 rather awakened the admiration of Lot Smith, who 
 gave them their arms, and one wagon of supplies 
 for food, and allowed them to depart for the East, 
 leaving the remainder of the train and cattle to 
 the Danites. 
 
 The defeated and disappointed men, knowing 
 they were over-powered by numbers, took up their 
 journey eastward, and later, as they climbed a hill, 
 they could see the flames and smoke of their burn- 
 ing wagons and supplies. 
 
 Billy was a boy — a child — but this was his record 
 long-distance walk. He footed it a thousand miles, 
 which, as he told me in May, 1912, effectually broke 
 him of walking. 
 
 Now, you Boy Scouts, when you are weary of 
 a long hike, think of the original Boy Scout and 
 his little hike of one thousand miles. Are you game? 
 
ffl^j2SaBAC*a!ilJ3£fe^ 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Fifth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 HOUNDING THE ELDER 
 
 IN Leavenworth, many years ago, the Presby- 
 terian Church stood between Seneca and Osage 
 Streets. It was a little frame building with two 
 front doors. Leading from each door down to the 
 pulpit was an aisle with seats holding about eight 
 people, on the north and south sides, and long seats 
 holding about double the number in the center. It 
 was so arranged that we could go in one door, down 
 the aisle, and. passing the pulpit, out the other door. 
 So much for the lay of the land. 
 
 Our preacher was Mr. A. W. Pitzer, now of 
 Washington, D. C, a Southern man who, at the 
 beginning of the Civil War, resigned and cast his 
 fortunes with his home land. 
 
 He was a young man beloved by all and es- 
 pecially by the boys, with whom he was a great 
 favorite. Now, you have the church, the pulpit, the 
 pews and preacher. 
 
 I suppose in every church there is some vinegar- 
 faced old elder who always finds fault with the 
 boys, and is a constant menace to their exuberant 
 
 27 
 
28 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 spirits. Our church had one. His name was Currie, 
 "Old Currie" we called him, and he made us feel 
 that he owned the church, that we must clean our 
 feet, and tip-toe down the aisle, or he would "call" 
 us before the congregation. More than once he led 
 us out and made us clean our feet. 
 
 Now, we have the church and the elder, the lay 
 of the land and so forth. Now, for the bad boys. 
 
 There were, in our crowd, about six or seven 
 boys, and this bunch was reduced to three or four 
 when any particularly "devilish" scheme was on 
 foot. That was a quartet of quiet ones who 
 never told. 
 
 About a half block from the church lived General 
 Custer, who owned a pack of sixteen hounds. 
 
 We four, Billy Cody, Will Winget, Ed House 
 and the writer were sitting on the sunny side of 
 the Terry stage barn, talking, and airing our griev- 
 ances as boys will, and the talk turned to "Old 
 Currie." This conference led to putting up a job 
 on "Old Currie." 
 
 Billy outlined a plan whereby we could get even 
 with the old fellow. 
 
 This was Saturday afternoon and we knew that 
 "Old Currie" was going to give a talk at the church 
 the following Sunday morning, so it was proposed 
 among us that we do something then. 
 
 Now, right here, I want to go on record as not 
 saying that Billy Cody planned this prank, because 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 29 
 
 we all joined hands and crossed our hearts to never 
 tell. However, here's what we did: 
 
 We got a scent-bag early in the morning and, 
 from the dog kennel, we trailed it straight to the 
 church. Ed got in a window and opened the doors. 
 
 The bag was dragged through the north door, 
 down the aisle, up the pulpit steps, down through 
 the south aisle, out of the door, through the back 
 yard of Dr. Morris' residence, and out the front 
 gate, back to the home kennel. 
 
 All was well, but we threw out our line of scouts 
 to be sure that Currie was there, and not the 
 preacher. 
 
 Things came our way. The elder, in his pompous 
 way, marched up the aisle, put his Sunday "plug" 
 hat on the table, and ascended the pulpit to address 
 the congregation. He gave out the hymn, just like 
 a preacher, prayed like a lost calf, and finally set- 
 tled down to preach. 
 
 Word was quickly passed and the hounds were 
 released and quickly took up the scent. Such music 
 as those hounds did make! They all had the deep, 
 hollow, bantone voice peculiar to their breed and 
 struck up the chorus as a solid pack. They fol- 
 lowed the scent down Pottawatomie Street, turning 
 on Sixth Street, down through the church yard, 
 yelping, howling, and baying. They rushed into 
 the church door, down the aisle, up around the 
 pulpit, knocking down the "plug" hat and the con- 
 
30 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 tribution bags on their long sticks, tripping "Old 
 Currie" as they rushed between his legs, over- 
 turning and breaking the glass water pitcher, spill- 
 ing the water; out the south aisle and door, through 
 Dr. Morris' yard and, as the surveyor would put it, 
 "back to the place of beginning." 
 
 It was only by hearsay that I knew what took 
 place in the church, but there sure was something 
 doing. Women screamed and stood up on the seats; 
 men were terrorized. Currie was scared stiff and 
 well doused with water, while the crowd, trying to 
 get out of the way of the dogs, tramped his plug 
 hat into a shapeless mass. 
 
 My father told me that if one of his boys was 
 connected with that scrape, he would tan the hide 
 off of him; and he would, for I happen to know 
 from experience. 
 
 The papers were full of it. I say papers, but 
 there was but one paper at that time. It was the 
 Leavenworth Herald, run by a man named Saterlee, 
 who was afterwards) shot and killed by Colonel 
 D. R. Anthony. 
 
 Rewards were offered for the perpetrators, but 
 they were never discovered. 
 
 We boys were scared stiff. We met at our ren- 
 dezvous behind the barn and crossed our hearts 
 never to reveal our secret. It was about this time 
 that the pro-slavery ruffians from Missouri were 
 making raids across the border, and it was finally 
 laid at their door. 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 81 
 
 We did not, as kids, realize what we were doing, 
 or the enormity of the offense, but when it became 
 the talk of the town, we walked the earth with fear 
 and trembling, even fearing lest we talk in our sleep 
 and give ourselves away. 
 
 That was a great crowd of boys. I kept track of 
 them long enough to know that one of them became 
 a gambler and was shot on a steamboat; another a 
 preacher and, at last accounts, was a bishop; still 
 another drifted out on the plains as a wagon master; 
 next is the best known man in the world, Billy Cody, 
 who became the world-known Buffalo Bill. The last 
 is the writer, now located in Clinton, Iowa, running 
 a newspaper. 
 
 And now the spirit moves me to write a long 
 letter of confession to our beloved pastor, Mister 
 Pitzer, and tell him how it happened. 
 
 Sixth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 QUANTRELL, THE OUTLAW 
 
 MANY of the older people of the border will 
 remember the burning and sacking of Law- 
 rence, Kansas; the ruthless massacre of innocent 
 men, women and children; the indiscriminate burn- 
 ing of homes and places of business. 
 
 Well, I was there, and here is how it happened. 
 The management of the Terry Stage Line, wishing 
 to transfer a lot of stage horses from Lawrence to 
 Leavenworth, hired four boys to make the transfer. 
 Each boy was to ride one horse and lead two. The 
 boys were Ed House, Joe Mitchell, George Mar- 
 
32 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 shall, and myself, We rode over on top of the stage 
 coach and were ready to leave with the horses early 
 the next morning. We had but got in our saddles, 
 and the line-up of led horses ready, when the shoot- 
 ing commenced. Buildings were fired. The gang of 
 guerrillas galloped down Massachusetts Street, fir- 
 ing at any living person. A panic of fear seized us 
 and we started on the run. We were stampeded — 
 crazed with fear. One of the horses of George 
 Marshall's string was shot. We dashed down to 
 the ford of the Kaw River, and that is the last I 
 remembered until we were at Tonganoxie, miles 
 away. 
 
 It is generally believed that Quantrell, the leader 
 of the gang, was after the Rev. I. S. Kalloch, a 
 Baptist minister, who had acquired property in 
 Lawrence, but in former times, both had lived in 
 Leavenworth. A bitter enmity had sprung up be- 
 tween the two men over a young lady who became 
 the wife of Rev. Kalloch. This is the main reason 
 guessed at for the fiendish raid of Quantrell and 
 his gang. 
 
 Quantrell is remembered only as the daring des- 
 perado of Missouri, yet Quantrell was not always a 
 desperado. 
 
 At one time he was our school teacher in Leaven- 
 worth, Kansas. He was well liked withal, but was 
 in school hours a severe disciplinarian, sparing not 
 the rod. At recess, however, he was on the play- 
 ground with the boys and girls and took interest in 
 the health-giving sports of that day. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 83 
 
 It was April First, All Fool's Day, and the usual 
 tricks of the day were in evidence. A party of the 
 boys stretched a fine broom wire across the aisle at 
 the approach to the teacher's desk. 
 
 The teacher approached the wire and it threw 
 him onto the rostrom. For a moment there was a 
 hush, and then Mr. Quantrell faced the school. I 
 shall never forget that livid face, that glaring eye, 
 that quivering lip. For a full moment there was 
 silence. Then : 
 
 "John Jestice, lock the door and bring me the 
 key. 
 
 "Now, I'm going to commence with the back seat 
 and thrash every pupil unless I am told who did 
 that. 
 
 "Who tied that wire in the aisle?" 
 Not a sound. 
 
 "Mary Hughes, step this way." 
 This was too much for Billy Cody, and up went 
 his hand and he snapped his fingers. 
 
 "What is it, Billy?" 
 "She didn't do it." 
 "Who did?" 
 "She didn't." 
 
 "That's no answer. I shall proceed to thrash 
 every boy and girl in this school until I get the 
 right one. Come up here, Mary." 
 
 Billy got up from his seat and walked up to the 
 rostrum. 
 
84 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "Mr. Quantrell, I did that." 
 
 "Did anyone else help?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Who was it?" 
 
 "I'd rather not tell — I'll take the licking for 
 doing it. I didn't think it would hurt you. It was 
 only done for a joke, and not in school hours." 
 
 "Take off your coat." 
 
 I can see Billy now after many years, how slowly 
 and reluctantly he removed his jacket. I could see 
 signs of a pretty big row, as the "big boys" 
 straightened up in their seats. 
 
 "Billy, look me in the eye." 
 
 Billy looked into the eye of that infuriated 
 teacher. It was a fearless gaze, and whether Quan- 
 trell was overcome by fear or admiration, we shall 
 never know. 
 
 "Billy, if you had lied to me, I would have 
 thrashed you till you couldn't move. You may go 
 to your seat." 
 
 The tense feeling gradually disappeared and the 
 school moved on as usual until recess. Our teacher 
 was with us on the playground, and he bore no hard 
 feeling toward Billy or any other of the boys. 
 
 Yet this man, Quantrell, our good-natured, be- 
 loved school teacher, became one of the most fiend- 
 ish, bloodthirsty villains and murderers that ever 
 lived. It doesn't seem possible, does it, Billy? 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 D 
 
 Seventh "Pow-Wow" 
 
 LONG BOW 
 
 ID you ever hear of that trait, or whatever 
 you call it, which is peculiar to the Indians 
 as to no other race, that of "appearing?" 
 
 Let me explain. You are out in the timber all 
 alone, you think, and you turn your head and an 
 Indian is beside you standing quietly looking at you. 
 
 I cannot explain it, and though I have heard the 
 same question asked, I have never heard it ex- 
 plained. I have asked it often of my Indian friends 
 and I have many, but they did not seem to know 
 what I meant, or why it was so extraordinary. So 
 I don't believe they know themselves. I guess it's 
 born in them — a part of their make-up. He 
 doesn't notice it. He doesn't explain it. 
 
 But that "appearing" was only a passing thought 
 brought about by a wave of memory regarding our 
 friend Long Bow. 
 
 Long Bow was an Indian boy about our own 
 age, and often joined with us. By "us" I do not 
 mean our school boy crowd, but just Billy and I. 
 
 35 
 
86 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 It seemed that we were happier when astride our 
 ponies. We took long rides, and builded air castles, 
 whose foundations rested on the boundless prairies 
 of the far west we had heard so much about. We 
 wanted to grow up so that we could join the ever 
 westward moving throngs to the land of gold. 
 
 On these rides, many times Long Bow was our 
 companion. He taught us woodcraft. He taught 
 us to follow a trail or how to blind our own trail. 
 He taught us his language and also the almost uni- 
 versal sign language of the red man. 
 
 Long Bow was what we would call in this gen- 
 eration a "stand patter." He was true as steel, and 
 a friend we could trust more implicitly than many 
 of those in whose veins runs the blood of the white 
 man. 
 
 They say an Indian never forgets an injury. 
 True indeed, but let me add, he never forgets a 
 kindness or proves ungrateful to a friend. 
 
 This was taught me by Long Bow who proved 
 the line I have added. 
 
 One day in a beautiful Kansas autumn, Billy and 
 I were alone in the big timber just west of Leaven- 
 worth. It was wild and deep, that timber. It had 
 not given up to the march of civilization, nor cast 
 aside its truly untamed mantle. Squirrels chased 
 each other over the trees, the gray timber wolf had 
 its home in that forest, and the wild cat and cata- 
 mount were at home in the giant trees or skulking 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 87 
 
 along in the underbrush. It was wild western 
 nature. 
 
 Our ponies were grazing near us, and we were 
 lying on our backs building air castles, talking of 
 what we would do when we were a little older, 
 when — 
 
 Long Bow "appeared." 
 
 We both saw him at once, as he stood there like 
 a statue. 
 
 "How," said he. 
 
 "How," said we. 
 
 Then he came and sat with us. He had a story 
 to tell of some of the boys in town. They had 
 misused him, and made him feel that he was but an 
 Indian. They, in a crowd, had fallen upon him and 
 given him a licking. In short they had horse- 
 whipped him. 
 
 Long Bow, half -civilized Indian boy though he 
 was, felt the indignity and came to us, his friends, 
 to tell us. How he knew where to find us I do not 
 know. He simply "appeared," and that was all. 
 
 In his short, crisp language, helped out and em- 
 phasized by signs, he told us of his battle with the 
 town boys, and how, like cowards, they overpow- 
 ered him and thrashed him with their quirts. He 
 told us who they were, and asked us to help him. 
 
 "I shall kill Sardell," he said, "and that big Tom 
 Watson." 
 
38 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Billy told him we would help him, and we all 
 shook hands, just like grown-ups, both white and 
 Indian. 
 
 Tom Watson was one of a gang that the school 
 boys did not like. They did not go to school, and 
 simply loafed around the levee, picking quarrels 
 with the school boys and lamming the tar out of 
 them if they caught one or two alone. 
 
 It was some weeks after this when Billy and this 
 Tom Watson had a mixup. I don't remember who 
 started it, but Billy gave him all he could stand. 
 There were enough of Billy's crowd to see fair play 
 and to keep off Tom's gang if they should interfere. 
 It was a struggle. They were well matched, though. 
 While Watson had the advantage of weight, Billy 
 could get all around him and make it hot for him. 
 Not fists alone were used but the ever present quirt 
 was in the hands of each. 
 
 Long Bow was there. He stood ready to spring 
 in, but we held him back, well knowing that fail* 
 play was all that was necessary. During a pause in 
 the hostilities, Billy told him what a coward he was 
 with his gang to jump Long Bow, and after a short 
 wordy combat, as boys will indulge in, they went at 
 it again, the quirts cracked, fists found noses, and 
 the battle was on again. 
 
 Billy licked him, good and plenty, and then, after 
 he let him up, after having knocked him down, he 
 told him to apologize to Long Bow. 
 
 This he refused to do, and Billy went after him 
 with the lash end of his quirt and gave him a real 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 39 
 
 horsewhipping, and finally made him take off his 
 hat to the Indian boy. 
 
 That day's work meant bad blood between the 
 school gang and the "rowdies," as we called them, 
 and we took pains when we went down to the levee, 
 to always go in crowds of three or four or a dozen. 
 
 Long Bow was our friend after that. He simply 
 worshipped Billy and more than ever we had him 
 for our companion. 
 
 Several years after that, when Billy had taken to 
 the plains, he was scouting ahead of a train of prairie 
 schooners, looking for traces of hostile Indians. 
 Then the plains were full of them. 
 
 It w r as growing dusk, and Billy, riding alone far 
 ahead of the train, came down to the bed of a creek 
 to water his horse and himself. It was a lonely spot, 
 he told me, thick willow under-growth on one side 
 and a dense grove of sumac on the other. His 
 horse had got its fill of water and Billy, who had 
 laid down on his belly to get his drink, arose to find 
 an Indian in war paint at his side. 
 
 "I tell you, pard," said Billy, "I felt cold all 
 over. I felt it was all up with me for the Indian 
 had the drop on me and he had a splendid gun, 
 besides his long knife in his belt." 
 
 "How, Billy," said the Indian. 
 
 "How, Long Bow," said Billy, who recognized 
 him at once, though the Indian boy had grown to a 
 stalwart buck, fine of form, lithe and sinewy as a 
 
40 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 wrestler — a typical savage in all the glory of his 
 hideous war paint. 
 
 He took the bridle of Billy's horse and led it 
 into the stream and up the creek to a stony shore, 
 where he stopped. 
 
 "Billy, go back to wagons," said Long Bow. 
 "Heap Indians over rise all on war path," and he 
 started out with Billy, guiding him, covering his 
 trail and keeping with him through the tortuous 
 windings of the western stream until he reached a 
 point nearest the train. 
 
 By this time it was night, and as the stars were 
 out — a perfect, starry night without a moon — the 
 Indian pointed to the North star. Then, facing it, 
 he directed Billy to his train, some eight or ten miles 
 to the northeast. He told him to hold his train in 
 camp for two sleeps and then to take his regular 
 trail, and his tribe would be far to the south. 
 
 The redskin friend in his war paint stood pat. 
 
 Billy walked for a distance leading his horse, and 
 as he frequently looked behind he saw his friend 
 standing watching him, until the darkness swallowed 
 him up. 
 
 It afterwards transpired that if Billy and his train 
 had fallen into the hands of that band of Indians, 
 there would not one have lived to tell the tale. 
 
 Billy rode into camp late at night and gave orders 
 that not a move should be made for two days though 
 he did not tell why. But it saved the train. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 41 
 
 Eighth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 A BOY WAGON MASTER 
 
 A BOUNDLESS prairie, a long train of white 
 covered wagons, a hundred in number and to 
 each hitched eight yoke of oxen — sixteen cattle, and 
 walking beside each wagon, armed with a long-lash 
 bull whip was a driver, or bull whacker, as they were 
 called. This was the style of crossing the plains in 
 those good old primitive days. Quite different from 
 the mile-a-minute trains of elegant coaches which now 
 flash over the same route. 
 
 Each train was in charge of a wagon master 
 whose word was law, whose law was supreme. These 
 trains were laden with provisions and ammunition 
 for the soldiers far out on the western frontier 
 stationed at crude camps called posts or forts, and 
 it was up to the wagon master to deliver the goods. 
 On him more than any other one man depended the 
 sustenance of these western soldiers. 
 
 The bull whackers as a rule were a rough and 
 ready, lawless set, and it required a man of iron 
 nerve and tact to handle them. 
 
 The man in charge of this train was a mere boy — 
 not yet 20, and yet he handled that crowd of men 
 perfectly. They recognized in that boy a born 
 leader, and though he was but the age of many of 
 our boy scouts of today, he bore an air of command 
 far beyond his years. 
 
 One move of mutiny, according to the laws of the 
 plains, meant death. No time for courts, no time 
 
42 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 for juries, no imprisonment, for there were not 
 prisons. With the first mutinous move a crack of 
 a rifle, and the leader was tried, convicted and sen- 
 tenced. A single moment settled the case beyond 
 recall, and all was over. As I said before, it re- 
 quired a man of iron nerve in the wagon master. 
 
 This boy had the nerve. 
 
 His word was law. 
 
 His commands were obeyed. 
 
 His name was Cody — Billy Cody. 
 
 He was a dead shot. 
 
 It was these attributes and accomplishments v/hich 
 made him the most trusted and successful wagon 
 master of the plains, and another thing which won 
 for him the respect of that great firm of freighters, 
 was that he was true. He could be trusted. Many 
 thousands of dollars worth of goods were placed in 
 his charge, and they were always delivered intact to 
 their destination. 
 
 Ninth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 HANDS UP! 
 
 FOR a long time the little city of Leavenworth, 
 Kansas, had been infested by marauding gangs of 
 outlaws from Missouri. They were known as Bor- 
 der Ruffians. They were of the lower class and 
 were men whose mission was not pro-slavery, but 
 robbery. These were men who would kill a man 
 for money, and it was generally believed that they 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 48 
 
 were hired to put out of the way some of the leading 
 Free State citizens. 
 
 One night just after Billy had got home from a 
 scouting expedition, a tap was heard at his bedroom 
 window, and Billy arose to find his Indian friend, 
 Long Bow, awaiting him. He hastily dressed and 
 armed himself, for no person went out without arms 
 in those days. The young Indian told him that a 
 party had crossed the river in skiffs and were at 
 the foot of Pottawatomie street, on the river's edge. 
 It took but a short time for Billy to size up the 
 crowd of three — all desperate fellows. The white 
 boy and the Indian watched their every move, and 
 Billy crept so close on the overhanging bank that 
 he could hear their conversation. It seems that Jim 
 Lane, one of the Free State men, most hated, was 
 in town, and it was the mission of these men to call 
 him out and capture or kill him. It was late when 
 one of their number started out on the mission, the 
 others to follow shortly after, when Lane should be 
 away from his house, the pretence being that Col. 
 Weibling had sent for him. Billy dispatched the 
 Indian boy to wake up the boys of our set, while 
 he trailed the outlaw. The ruse was fairly success- 
 ful, and Mr. Lane hastened to comply with the re- 
 quest, to come at once to Col. Weibling. 
 
 But they had not counted on "Billy," the boy 
 scout. Just as Mr. Lane closed the window after 
 receiving the message, and telling the messenger to 
 wait and he would accompany him 
 
 "Hands up!" 
 
44 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 And the outlaw turned and looked into the muz- 
 zles of two navy revolvers. Billy was behind them. 
 His hands went up, and Mr. Lane, hearing the 
 altercation, came out at once. 
 
 "Take his pistols, Mr. Lane," said Billy. "He is 
 here to kill you." 
 
 Mr. Lane took the pistols from the belt of the 
 outlaw, and Billy marched him down to the jail on 
 Delaware street. 
 
 The rest of the gang got uneasy and took to their 
 boat, leaving their companion to the "court of the 
 Vigilantes." 
 
^ r ^j=r=z 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Tenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 I FULLY believe that the first blood in the cause 
 of abolition of slavery which led up to the great 
 Civil War, even before the martyr, John Brown, 
 was executed, was shed by Isaac Cody, father of 
 Buffalo Bill. 
 
 It was during those hot times when the fate of 
 Kansas territory was trembling in the balance, 
 whether she as a new state should be a slave state 
 or a free state. 
 
 Mr. Cody was a good speaker and was urged at 
 a mass meeting to give his views on the subject. 
 He was not a man to seek notoriety, nor yet to push 
 himself forward, but at the earnest solicitation of 
 friends, and responding to loud cries of "Cody, 
 Cody," he took the platform and in a ringing speech 
 gave his views on the subject. He was not a man 
 to mince matters, nor was he ever accused of being 
 a weakling, or carrying water on both shoulders. 
 People knew where to find him, and he had the 
 courage of his convictions. He was fearless in all 
 things and this attribute of bravery was born in his 
 
 45 
 
46 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 son, who, through that inherited courage, became 
 the bravest and most noted scout and pathfinder the 
 world has ever known. 
 
 The speech of Isaac Cody did not sit well with 
 the pro-slavery people, so he was threatened and 
 hooted at by the border ruffians, a large majority 
 of which made up the mass meeting. To threaten 
 Isaac Cody was only to rouse the ire of a lion, and 
 in unmistakable terms he gave his views of slavery 
 and his unbiased opinion of those who would pollute 
 the virgin soil of Kansas with its curse. 
 
 While engaged in his speech a big rowdy and a 
 bad man known as Weston Red, stepped up behind 
 him and with a large dirk knife stabbed him twice. 
 As Mr. Cody fell into the arms of his friends, the 
 big ruffian was taken care of by the mob from 
 Missouri and got across the river. 
 
 Billy and I, two boys, thought of course he was 
 killed, but he did not die at that time, but some time 
 later he died from effects of those ugly wounds. 
 This was the first blood for freedom. 
 
 I put this in my story to show the stuff of which 
 Buffalo Bill was made. 
 
 Eleventh "Pow-Wow" 
 
 GRAVE BUSINESS 
 
 TRUTH to tell, the incident I am about to re- 
 late scared me so that I do not remember 
 whether Billy Cody was with us that night or not, 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 47 
 
 but he was usually in on any excitement, and our 
 crowd was never complete or at its best without 
 him. Well, I'll not "peach" on him, anyhow. 
 
 A pauper had died and was buried. His case 
 had been a puzzle to the doctors. 
 
 And one doctor who wished to know more of the 
 case, wanted the body. He came to one of our 
 crowd, "Hen" Brown, and offered him twenty dol- 
 lars if he would get the body. 
 
 At the gathering of the "clan" that moonlight 
 evening, "Hen" told us all about it, and where we 
 could find the grave. 
 
 Here was a lark. 
 
 The boys were all up and ready for a creepy 
 adventure, so, armed with spades, a pick and other 
 garden tools, we started for Pilot Knob, the bury- 
 ing ground. 
 
 This was not the cemetery of today by any means. 
 It was the table land at the top of a knob or huge 
 hill, really a cross between a hill and a mountain. 
 On one side, to the north, the ascent was gradual 
 and winding, and it was on this side that the fu- 
 nerals approached the summit. On the east, the 
 descent, while not absolutely perpendicular, was a 
 very steep incline. The sides and top of the knob 
 were covered with scrub oak bushes, with here and 
 there a tree, the kind with the glossy, whispering 
 leaves. 
 
48 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Ed House and the old doctor (Dr. Abeele), with 
 a one horse spring wagon, drove around the road, 
 and the rest of us cut across and up the steep side 
 of the knob. We soon gained the top and found 
 the newly made grave. We started to dig. 
 
 But where was Cody? 
 
 The moon came out from behind an occasional 
 cloud, only to be veiled by another. The wind 
 whistled a wild, weird tune through the tree-tops 
 and bushes, causing them to assist our imagination 
 in forming lisping ghosts and waving phantoms as 
 their leaves showed bright in the moonlight like 
 eyes from a skulking ghost or spirit. 
 
 Pretty soon we began to get nervous. We were 
 only boys, just about the age when ghost stories 
 give you a creepy feeling, and the cold little devils 
 chase themselves up and down your spine. 
 
 "What's that?" said one. 
 
 "What is it?" said another. 
 
 "I saw something white over behind that bush," 
 said George Pierce. 
 
 Suddenly we heard a low moaning from the 
 bushes, just beyond the grave. It was low and 
 plaintive at first, but soon it took on an unmistak- 
 able moan. 
 
 All work stopped. The two boys scurried out of 
 the grave and stood with us. The moan again and, 
 as we looked in its direction, a ghostly figure, all 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 49 
 
 in white, arose slowly up, up, till it stood, as we 
 thought, ten feet high. It was a ghost. No, you 
 needn't tell me there are no ghosts. I saw one; I 
 heard it groan! 
 
 A panic seized us and, with one accord, we 
 started down the steep side of Pilot Knob, leaving 
 all our tools behind and, truth to tell, they may be 
 there yet, for though I have often been up to the 
 old burying ground, I have never had the courage 
 to go near the old pauper's grave. 
 
 As I look back even now, when fifty years have 
 passed without a ghost, I feel a shudder and a cold, 
 clammy sensation as I recall that ten foot ghost in 
 the grave yard on Pilot Knob. 
 
 Long, long afterward, when we were alone, Billy 
 told me all about it. He had gone home, got a 
 sheet and a white skirt and tied them up in a bundle 
 and, while we were struggling up the hill, he drew 
 apart from the crowd, and finally, dressed up in 
 his ghostly uniform, "appeared," and frightened us 
 off. He told me of the time he had to keep from 
 laughing out loud and spoiling the whole thing. He 
 had many a quiet laugh over it, all to himself, but 
 never for a long time did he break the real truth 
 to the boys. 
 
 The Leavenworth Herald had a big article about 
 an attempted grave robbery, the finding of tools, 
 etc., but we never peeped. We were all in it but 
 we all kept quiet. 
 
50 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Twelfth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 IEON TAIL 
 
 THE reader will naturally inquire, "Who is Iron 
 Tail?" Many have met the kindly natured old 
 chief with the Wild West Show of later years. 
 Iron Tail is not simply an "Injun," picked up to 
 form a setting in the historical play. 
 
 Iron Tail is a part of history, of the history of 
 the wild and woolly west. He is one of the chiefs 
 whose name brought a thrill of fear to the people 
 of the border. He was the leader among the red 
 men and one in whose breast rankled the serpent of 
 vengeance for the loss of their lands. It was he 
 who led many a fatal raid and with the stolid glee 
 of many an Indian, quietly lifted the scalps of his 
 victims. Had Iron Tail been born a white man, 
 his name would be known from coast to coast. 
 
 He was a born organizer. Among his people he 
 was a recognized leader and, to this day, his name 
 is spoken with reverence at all campflres of whatso- 
 ever tribe or nation. Among his people he was a 
 conqueror and a general. 
 
 In the early days, long before the last great up- 
 rising, Col. Cody, then known as "Bill," did the 
 young buck a favor. This was before the blanket 
 and war bonnet of the far-famed chief, his father, 
 had fallen to his keeping. 
 
 It was during a temporary peace, enforced un- 
 doubtedly by the presence of government soldiers, 
 plentifully scattered on the plains and, at the time 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 51 
 
 when young "Pahaska" (the Indian name for Buf- 
 falo Bill) was feared by the red men as one who 
 bore a charmed life, and was in touch with the 
 Great Spirit. 
 
 Young Iron Tail wooed and won the daughter 
 of the chief of another tribe, but the courtship met 
 with no favor from her father. The young man, 
 who always had an air of good camaraderie, and was 
 on good terms with young Billy, called one night 
 at his home near Leavenworth and, without knock- 
 ing, "appeared" in the room with his gaze fixed on 
 the young scout. There was no beckoning, no nod 
 of the head, but simply "How," and he strode out 
 of the door, Cody following. 
 
 The family, though somewhat used to these In- 
 dian moves, somehow feared treachery. The Indian 
 seemed to sense it and, turning about, laid on the 
 floor his gun and knife and, holding up his hands, 
 with a smile, turned and joined Cody outside the 
 home. 
 
 Here he told his trouble and asked the assistance 
 of young Pahaska. 
 
 The following day Cody visited the tepee of the 
 old chief and, after a long talk, making many prom- 
 ises of help against the Cherokees, a tribe more pow- 
 erful than his own, succeeded in "showing the old 
 man." However, it was not until after many 
 "smokes" that the old chief finally consented. I 
 may add here, in parenthesis, that it was a good 
 move and one he never regretted, for, with the as- 
 
52 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 sistance and "palaver" of Cody, the two tribes were 
 united, together forming one of the most formidable 
 and close Indian alliances on the plains. 
 
 (In the possession of Mrs. D. H. Winget, wife 
 of the writer, is a beautiful beaded Indian belt, made 
 by Iron Tail's bride, "Red Leaf," for Buffalo Bill 
 and, by him, presented to the present possessor.) 
 
 This was the kindness Cody did for Iron Tail 
 and was the beginning of a life-long friendship be- 
 tween these ill-assorted men, white and red. They 
 were as firmly bound in friendship as brothers. Nay, 
 more, for Iron Tail was Buffalo Bill's shadow, both 
 with the show and on the big hunt which the two 
 invariably took each year when the show was in 
 winter quarters. 
 
 Thirteenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 IRON TAIL'S TRIBUTE 
 
 THE writer of this was with Cody and with the 
 Indians so much that he, like many other "bor- 
 der boys," learned to speak their language. Know- 
 ing Iron Tail for years and being known as Billy's 
 friend, the old chief paid a beautiful tribute to his 
 friend, "Pahaska," and it has been ringing in my 
 ears till it seems to take the measured beat of rhyme. 
 It follows, as nearly as I can translate it: 
 
 "I long for the plains of the boundless West, the 
 seas of waving green, the Buffalo bounding free 
 and wild, and the yelp of the coyote lean. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 53 
 
 "I long for the days of long ago, when the Red 
 Man wooed the squaw, and sailed his love, his red- 
 skin doe, on the waves of the raging Kaw. 
 
 "I long for the days when I was young, with my 
 quiver and trusty bow, when Pahaska, the long- 
 haired chief, was young and was good to know. 
 
 "I am growing old, my eye is dim, my life has 
 been long and, 'round the mystic campfire, my 
 friends await in the Happy Hunting Ground. 
 
 "Pahaska, my friend, is true to me; "We are 
 pards," he says, "old boy," and the firm clasp of the 
 long-haired chief to old Iron Tail brings joy. 
 
 "We are nearing the last long sleep, we two, 
 Pahaska, my friend, and I, so what care I, with my 
 brother white, how swiftly time may fly. 
 
 "For soon the tom-tom will beat for me, and the 
 Red Men gather 'round, and dance the dance of 
 death, you see, ere I leave for the Hunting Ground. 
 
 "And Pahaska, long-haired chief, will kneel and 
 talk to the Spirit Great about old Iron Tail, the 
 chief, his friend and Indian mate. 
 
 "And then I'll go to my horse and dog, who will 
 bark and leap and bound, and, with my pipe, for 
 my friend, I'll wait in the Happy Hunting Ground. 
 
 "And Pahaska will come to greet me there, far 
 off through the boundless blue, to the Spirit Great 
 will take me, as a Red Man, tried and true." 
 
54 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Fourteenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 A TRAPPER 
 
 THOUGH still what we would call a kid, Billy 
 started with a companion, Dan Harrington, on 
 a hunting and trapping expedition along the Re- 
 publican River in Kansas, taking a yoke of oxen 
 and a wagon of supplies. They had excellent luck 
 with beavers and were getting along fine, until one 
 of their oxen broke its leg and had to be shot. This 
 left them crippled. Added to this, Billy broke his 
 leg while stalking elk, slipping on an icy ledge, and 
 falling to the creek below. This rather took the 
 tuck out of little Billy, and he begged Harrington 
 to shoot him and put him out of his misery. 
 
 Harrington, however, bandaged up the broken 
 leg as best he could and, fixing Billy up as com- 
 fortably as possible, started for the nearest settle- 
 ment, about 125 miles away. He wanted to get a 
 yoke of oxen and return for Billy. With the best 
 of luck it would take at least twenty days. That 
 was a long time to leave a boy alone in a dug-out 
 with a broken leg. 
 
 However, there was no other way out of it, so 
 before leaving he gathered plenty of wood, and pro- 
 visions were there. Then he bade Billy good-bye 
 and started on his long walk. As Billy told of it 
 afterward, it was a long, tiresome wait. 
 
 On the twelfth day after Harrington left, Billy 
 was awakened by someone touching him on the 
 shoulder. He looked up and saw an Indian in full 
 war paint standing by his side. He spoke in broken 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 55 
 
 English and Sioux, and asked Billy what he was 
 doing there, and how many were with him. 
 
 "I told them," said Billy, "for by this time the 
 dug-out was filled with Indians. 
 
 "Then an old Indian came up to me and I rec- 
 ognized Chief Rain-in-the-Face of the Sioux, whom 
 I had visited at his lodge near Fort Laramie. I 
 showed him my broken leg and asked him if they 
 were going to kill me. 
 
 " 'That is what they intend to do/ said the chief, 
 'but I will see what they say about it.' 
 
 "The old chief had a talk with his braves and 
 they concluded to spare the life of the 'papoose,' 
 but they took my gun and revolver and most of my 
 food, but were good enough to give me some after 
 it was cooked." 
 
 However, to make a long story short, they went 
 away, leaving Billy alone again, and it was a long, 
 tedious, painful wait. Snow had fallen and wolves 
 howled and scratched at the door of the dug-out. 
 Billy was alone there, and without arms of any kind 
 to protect himself should they enter. 
 
 On the twenty-ninth day Billy was made glad by 
 the voice of Harrington as he yelled, "Whoa — 
 Haw!" to his oxen. Billy said he simply put his 
 arms around Dave's neck and hugged him, so glad 
 was he to see his faithful friend. 
 
 In a few days the furs were loaded into the 
 wagon and the comrades took their slow way to the 
 
56 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 settlement. Billy rode on a bed of fur which today- 
 would be worth several thousand dollars. 
 
 They sold their wagon and furs at Junction City 
 and went with a government train to Leavenworth. 
 Here Dave was made a welcome guest at Cody's 
 home. 
 
 Now, you Boy Scouts, this is just a chapter in the 
 life of a boy like yourself who had nerve and en- 
 durance. How many of you would relish a similar 
 experience? 
 
— «^m#.rafc«^te 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Fifteenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 WESTERN GIRLS 
 
 TO write this little sketch, I have taken to the 
 woods. Memory here, aided by the sighing of 
 the wind in the trees, carries me back to the heavy, 
 timbered banks of the Missouri River, in the days 
 when the West was a trackless wilderness, when the 
 forests were a dense network of trees, bushes and 
 undergrowth, and the prairies one grand Atlantic 
 Ocean of green, billowing, waving grass. 
 
 This is the setting for our playground as boys. 
 In those wild western days, danger lurked on every 
 hand. The Indians were not the subdued people 
 they now are; the white man was counted his game, 
 the same as the buffalo or other wild animals, but 
 more — he was counted their enemy, and the basis 
 of an Indian's worth and prominence with his tribe 
 was gauged by the number of white people's scalps 
 which dangled from his belt. 
 
 So you can see that the playground of the west- 
 ern boy was full of danger. The boys of the West 
 were trained to these dangers, and were always pre- 
 pared. They had their fire-arms and, what is more, 
 they could use them. Where the boys of today go 
 
 57 
 
58 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 a few blocks to a park or ball ground for their 
 pleasure, miles, and sometimes many of them, were 
 compassed in our wild western games. 
 
 Our ponies were our true, tried friends ; our rifles, 
 our constant companions. 
 
 As I sit here writing, the wind sings a song and 
 lulls me to sleep. I am carried back on the en- 
 chanted rug, the magic carpet of memory. Billy 
 and Long Bow, our Indian friend, are with me. 
 Our ponies graze quietly nearby ; we look up through 
 the leafy branches of the mammoth oak and build 
 our air castles. 
 
 It is nearing evening, the sun shines through 
 the trees, making patches of shifting light on the 
 grass, as the soughing wind rustles through the 
 branches. 
 
 Long Bow, with his acute sense, hears something 
 which brings him to his feet. We all arise. 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the hoof beats — a horse 
 on a dead run. Nearer and nearer it came and, in 
 the opening, with her black hair flying in the wind, 
 urging her pony to its best, came May Cody, Billy's 
 sister. 
 
 "Quick, boys, the raiders!" she said and, at once, 
 we were on the way back to town. 
 
 Our ponies seemed to know that their best was 
 expected, and buckled down to the race. Others 
 of the "girl scouts" had given the alarm and the 
 raiders were quickly turned away, but not till two 
 of their number were fixed for a funeral. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 59 
 
 Billy's rifle cracked and an arrow from Long Bow 
 did a good service. Others of the "boy clan" were 
 on hand and the raiders who swooped down when 
 the men folks of the little settlement were away, 
 were taken care of by Billy and his boy scouts. 
 
 The raiders rode rapidly away to the south, and 
 no more was heard of them at that time. 
 
 It is but fair to say that Long Bow, with the 
 Indian in his nature, scalped his man, and after 
 completing the job, raised the hair of Billy's victim 
 and presented the scalp to Cody, who told him to 
 keep it. Thus, at least one Indian had an extra 
 scalp to his credit. 
 
 At a meeting of the citizens in the evening, much 
 praise was awarded Billy and his boys, and one of 
 the speakers said, "We can always feel safe if Billy 
 Cody is at home." 
 
 You can just bet that all the boys and girls were 
 proud of their brave young leader. 
 
 Times are tame now. The West is conquered. 
 The vast prairies are seas of golden grain. The 
 trail of the "bull outfit" has given way to steel rails 
 and the comet-like train of luxurious coaches. The 
 buffalo, with the Indian, are rapidly disappearing 
 from the face of the earth, and soon, yes, before this 
 book has worn out, the only evidences we shall have 
 of the wild west and its red men, its wolves, its 
 buffalo, its catamounts, its broad, wild prairie, will 
 be the printed page of the historian. Even then, 
 many will call it an over-drawn picture. 
 
60 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Sixteenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 PAEDS 
 
 THIS was written some years ago. By "Pards," 
 I mean Buffalo Bill and myself, and in this 
 connection, will state that when Buffalo Bill died, 
 there were twelve of the old scouts of the plains 
 alive. But now, since the death of Col. Boggs of 
 Mattoon, 111., which occurred a year ago, I find 
 myself alone — the last of the old scouts. 
 
 But here's the article on pards: 
 
 Darn this pipe. I never get it fairly going, but 
 I begin to see things. It seems that the smoke sim- 
 ply resolves itself into a moving picture, and draw- 
 ing on memory, throws on the ever changing screen, 
 "days of long ago." 
 
 Not in a comfortable arm chair at a place called 
 home; not with warm slippers, or the latest Christ- 
 mas gift dressing gown, we read about in stories. 
 No, not surrounded with these lazy creature com- 
 forts, but at my desk — my workshop, tarrying after 
 the wheels have stopped, the machinery silent and 
 nothing going but my pipe. 
 
 Oh, you fascinating, comforting Lady Nicotine. 
 You who transform realities into dreams; you who 
 with your soft, sense-soothing anaesthetic draw a 
 veil of the past twixt trouble, worry, sadness, hope- 
 lessness and I. 
 
 Am I dozing off, or just remembering? 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 61 
 
 The low, soft orchestra, almost a song of united 
 instruments, fills the air with songs of long ago. 
 
 Two boys are in a little western church. The 
 choir is softly, sweetly singing. 
 
 "Rock of Ages, cleft for me " 
 
 The good, old, fatherly gray-haired preacher 
 kneels and prays for the souls of his flock. He pic- 
 tures the suffering of the Saviour, and through the 
 films of smoke I see the loving Saviour with hand 
 outstretched to me; I hear Him say: "Son, give me 
 thy heart," a soft, sweet voice of a motherly old 
 lady approaches us — my pard and I. She kneels 
 by us, and with her hand on our shoulders prays 
 for "these two dear boys." 
 
 This was the dear Christian woman known by all 
 as Aunt Emaline. Our boyish hearts were touched, 
 and even now though more than half a century has 
 passed, I feel the thrill as then. 
 
 "Simply to Thy cross I cling," sang the choir, and 
 the fatherly old man invited all to come forward and 
 give themselves to "the one who died that we might 
 live." 
 
 "Shall we go?" said my pard. "Come on up, my 
 boys, with Aunty," said the good woman, and as we 
 walked down the aisle of that little church, the choir 
 sang. 
 
 "Nothing in my hand I bring, 
 Simply to thy cross I cling." 
 
62 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 That was more than half a hundred years ago. 
 
 Where are the promises made by boyish lips? 
 Where are those who worshipped then? Where are 
 the hopes, the resolutions, the bright outlook? — 
 dust and ashes. 
 
 The scene changes, and the moving film shows me 
 two young men, strong, stalwart, and in the prime 
 of life. The west was no longer young. A city had 
 grown from the village, and it had built away from 
 that little church, leaving that little house of worship, 
 surrounded by its marble markings of the dead, far 
 out in the suburbs. Shrubbery and wild bushes had 
 grown up, and what were bushes before were now 
 well grown trees. The grave yard was overgrown 
 with weeds, flowers and bushes — nature's veil of 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 But still it was the house of the Saviour — it had 
 not outlived its usefulness. 
 
 As we, my pard and I, walked slowly that night 
 by the little church, we heard 
 
 "Rock of Ages, cleft for me." 
 
 "Wait," said my pard, "Do you remember?" 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 "Let's kneel," said he. And in the dense growth of 
 bushes we knelt, and — remembered. 
 
 Pard has gone now. I wonder if he remembers 
 still? 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Seventeenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 "AND A PROTESTANT, TOO!" 
 
 (Written in 1910) 
 
 LITTLE Matt Malone, one of our neighbor boys 
 i of Irish extraction, was set upon by a gang of 
 levee roughs, who not only abused the little fellow, 
 but took from him his "beads" as they called it. It 
 was his rosary, and was highly prized by him. 
 
 Billy went in and licked the bully, and rescued 
 little Matt. 
 
 "The dirty divil has me rosary," said Matt. 
 
 "What's a rosary?" said Billy. 
 
 He told Billy what it was and he went to the 
 bully and made him hand over "that string of beads, 
 and do it quick, too." The bully, now recovered 
 from the last punch Billy give him, showed signs of 
 fight. Billy, recognizing the sign, went at him and 
 gave him such a licking as he remembers today, if he 
 still lives. He got the "beads" and though they were 
 broken in the struggle, and the crucifix separated 
 from the rest, he returned them to poor little Matt. 
 
 His mother, telling of the affray to the neighbors 
 and Sisters of Charity, spoke very highly of Billy, 
 and at the end of each sentence she said: "And a 
 Protestant Boy, too! Think of that." 
 
 63 
 
64 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 As I look back at it, I have to laugh as I recall 
 Billy's words as he punched the bully. 
 
 "Gimme that picture of Jesus, gimme that picture 
 of Jesus." 
 
 This he repeated as he punched the bully, until it 
 was finally handed him, and Billy returned the little 
 metal image of the Saviour to little Matt. 
 
 Billy was not quarrelsome, and I never knew him 
 to get into a mixup on his own account. He was at 
 all times ready to take up the wrong of somebody 
 else, and as a rule all his little fracases were made 
 for him, and he jumped into it and cleaned it up. 
 
 Bravery is not confined to killing Indians, to tak- 
 ing up the fights of other boys, or to fighting in gen- 
 eral, but it reaches farther and deeper than all these. 
 
 It means to defend the right as God gives you to 
 see the right. It means for boy scouts or men scouts 
 who profess to be brave, to ally all their forces with 
 the right, to take the part of the poor and weak in 
 all cases, as for instance the nature of the "Old 
 Scout" in private life. Let us see how this figures 
 out: 
 
 The deadly bow and poisoned arrow are of the 
 past. The bow string is broken; the arrows repose 
 in their quiver as they hang on the wall of the lodge. 
 The rifle no longer responds to the deadly aim and 
 unerring trigger of the Indian fighter. The buffalo 
 no longer roams the prairie. The trackless plains 
 have been gridironed by the steel pathway of the 
 avenues of commerce. Our country has been cap- 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 65 
 
 tured from savagery and has succumbed to civili- 
 zation. 
 
 But still there's room for bravery, chivalry and 
 scouting. Has the "Old Scout" lost his nature? Has 
 he ceased to take up the rights and right the wrongs 
 of the oppressed? 
 
 In his everyday life he sees opportunities to help 
 the poor and take up the cause of the under dog in 
 the battle of life. 
 
 See him in the arena, placing history before you. 
 See him in action in the mimic warfare of the Wild 
 West. See him as he proudly rides at the head of 
 the rough riders of the world and introduces to you 
 the Congress of Rough Riders. 
 
 But behind the scenes, he is a busy man. In his 
 tent, while the big show is going on, he is answering 
 telegrams, letters, etc., and keeping in touch with 
 his private work all over the country. Here is a 
 letter authorizing his bank in this or that city to see 
 
 that old Mr. , a veteran of the plains, has the 
 
 comforts of life. Here goes his draft out to the 
 widow of Pony Bob in Chicago, to ease her declining 
 years. Here a letter of good cheer to this or that 
 friend in an isolated village away in the west, the 
 south or east. Here a donation for charity to be 
 handled by friends whom he knows he can trust. 
 Here a letter to a Commercial Club, in this or that 
 city where he has interests, and all, yes all, are writ- 
 ten in a spirit of chivalry, in many instances backed 
 by the weapon of cash, to drive the wolf from the 
 
66 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 door, or bolster up an unfortunate friend who's 
 "pulling hard against the stream." 
 
 If Buffalo Bill dies a poor man, it will not be for 
 the reason that he has not made money, but because 
 of the open hand of generous charity which has 
 characterized his life from boyhood. 
 
 Many times in our boyhood has Billy led the 
 "clan" around with saws and axes to the home of 
 this or that poor old couple or widow, to get in their 
 winter wood. Many a time have we made war on 
 the timber and hauled to the homes of these un- 
 fortunates, cords of wood. And all this suggested 
 Billy, who as our recognized leader never said "go 
 and do" this or that, but "Let us go and do it." 
 
 An old lady lay sick. She was poor. Billy took 
 up her case, and in school told all about her mis- 
 fortune. He grew interested in his talk and, while 
 I've heard him try to speak "The Boy Stood on the 
 Burning Deck," he never spoke so well, nor so elo- 
 quently as when he was telling the story of that poor 
 old Irish lady. 
 
 "Mr. Quantrell," said he, for it was the Quantrell 
 who afterwards became the notorious outlaw who 
 led the massacre at Lawrence, Kansas, who was our 
 teacher, "Mr. Quantrell, may I pass the hat?" 
 
 "Certainly, Billy," said he, "and here's a dollar to 
 start you off." 
 
 Billy took his hat, went down into his own pocket 
 first, and when our teacher put in his dollar it struck 
 another piece of coin. The hat was passed, and the 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 67 
 
 dimes and quarters showed a goodly spirit in the 
 school children (there were no pennies there). 
 
 Again the same spirit of chivalry came to the 
 front when he started a contribution for a poor 
 woman and her children out in a mining camp, a 
 reference to which is made in a little verse. 
 
 But these are only a few of many cases. As I say, 
 if Buffalo Bill dies a poor man, it is because he 
 delighted in the game of "Help your neighbor" and 
 I am not so sure but that he will even in this life 
 realize the full meaning of the verse in our Saviour's 
 teaching, "He that giveth unto the poor lendeth 
 unto the Lord." 
 
 Boys, can you be the same kind ,of true blue 
 "Cody Scouts?" 
 
 Eighteenth fC Pow-Wow" 
 
 TWO BILLYS 
 
 IF the modest little town of LeClaire, Iowa, on the 
 banks of the Mississippi never takes on a boom 
 and gets into the limelight in the commercial world, 
 she still has her place on the map, as the birthplace 
 of Buffalo Bill, and is the town where Hon. W. C. 
 Brown, president of the New York Central Rail- 
 road, was born. Both these boys have grown to man- 
 hood, and preserved the same hardy, undaunted spirit 
 of their pioneer ancestors. 
 
 They were both born poor boys and started in life 
 without a pull, and by their own unaided efforts 
 
68 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 have carved out their own way to fortune and to 
 fame. 
 
 Mr. Brown taught the effete east how to do things. 
 He pioneered or pushed into the mazes of big busi- 
 ness, and became a great captain of industry. With 
 him it was not a leap to the top of the ladder. He 
 did not bound to the driver's seat and take the reins 
 of that mighty business. It was his motto to work. 
 There was no job too small for him to start on, 
 and with every job he got he learned a higher lesson 
 in the school of life. 
 
 Mr. Brown was not born with a silver spoon in his 
 mouth, but what is far better, he had the good red 
 bounding blood of the west — the blood of pioneers, 
 of a father and mother who looked the setting sun 
 in the face and dared to follow its call to the new 
 country beyond the Mississippi. 
 
 Here they settled and here they built their hum- 
 ble western shack, and with other pioneers, did their 
 share towards the reclamation of the west from its 
 savage nature. 
 
 Here, on the banks of the Mississippi, a future 
 captain of industry first saw the light. Right in the 
 little settlement of LeClaire, washed on the east 
 by the swift running Father of Waters, and backed 
 by the rounding timbered hills which line its banks, 
 he was a boy, who from childhood up, lived with a 
 purpose. Step by step he accomplished things, at 
 first the work or play of childhood, and as he sur- 
 mounted one obstacle, reached out for the next to 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 69 
 
 conquer. His school days were passed in the primi- 
 tive western school. A slab of lumber for a seat, and 
 the simplest surroundings, withstanding the lure of 
 the fishing rod, or the seductive call of Bob White, 
 till after school hours. 
 
 Like Billy Cody, he was a born leader, and while 
 Cody in his conquering went to the further western 
 wilds, Billy Brown found that the east needed a 
 conqueror in certain lines, and true to his native 
 born principles went after it. 
 
 If the great president of railroads reads this, 
 sketched in primitive style, just sixteen miles from 
 his birthplace, he may smile and poof-poof. Then, 
 he will light another of those big cigars and as he 
 lies back in the easy chair in his sumptuous apart- 
 ments in New York City, the smoke in its convolu- 
 tions will form memory pictures. It will take him 
 back to LeClaire, it will paint for him pictures pos- 
 sible to no other artist, faces long forgotten will 
 appear, he will call names he has not spoken for 
 years. 
 
 See that barefoot boy going past with the fishing 
 rod, the cows coming home, the tinkle of the cow 
 bell just up on the hill — the boys' gathering place 
 under the spreading elm. Billy, the elm is all that is 
 left of the old crowd, save one or two people who 
 have grown gray as the elm has grown green, but 
 many of our old friends' voices have long been 
 hushed and a stone marks their resting place. 
 
70 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Little old LeClaire still holds out a welcome for 
 her two Billys — one who wandered west and one 
 who wandered east. 
 
 
% k£*i*B&^ s & 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Nineteenth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE PONY EXPRESS 
 
 COLONEL CODY, in telling the story of his 
 own experiences with the Pony Express, says: 
 
 "The enterprise was just being started. The line 
 was stocked with horses and put into good running 
 order. At Julesburg I met Mr. George Chrisman, 
 the leading wagon master of Russell, Majors, and 
 Waddell, who had always been a good friend to me. 
 He had bought out 'Old Jules,' and was then the 
 owner of Julesburg Ranch, and the agent of the 
 Pony Express line. He hired me at once as a Pony 
 Express rider, but as I was so young he thought I 
 was not able to stand the fierce riding which was 
 required of the messengers. He knew, however, that 
 I had been raised in the saddle, that I felt more at 
 home there than in any other place, and he saw that 
 I was confident that I could stand the racket, and 
 could ride as far and endure it as well as some of 
 the old riders. He gave me a short route of forty-five 
 miles, with the stations fifteen miles apart and three 
 changes of horses. I was fortunate in getting well- 
 
 71 
 
72 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 broken animals, and being so light I easily made my 
 forty-five miles on my first trip out, and ever after- 
 ward. 
 
 "As the warm days of summer approached, I 
 longed for the cool air of the mountains; and to the 
 mountains I determined to go. When I returned to 
 Leavenworth I met my old wagon master and friend, 
 Lewis Simpson, who was fitting out a train at Atch- 
 ison and loading it with supplies for the Overland 
 Stage Company, of which Mr. Russell, my old em- 
 ployer, was one of the proprietors. Simpson was 
 going with this train to Fort Laramie and points 
 farther west. 
 
 " 'Come along with me, Billy,' said he. 'I'll give 
 you a good lay-out. I want you with me.' 
 
 " 'I don't know that I would like to go as far 
 west as that again,' I replied. 'But I do want to 
 ride the Pony Express once more; there's some life 
 in that.' 
 
 'Yes, that's so; but it will soon shake the life out 
 of you,' said he. 'However, if that's what you've got 
 your mind set on, you had better come to Atchison 
 with me and see Mr. Russell, who, I'm pretty cer- 
 tain, will give you a situation.' 
 
 "I met Mr. Russell there and asked him for em- 
 ployment as a Pony Express rider; he gave me a 
 letter to Mr. Slade, who was then the stage agent 
 for the division extending from Julesburg to Rocky 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 78 
 
 Ridge. Slade had his headquarters at Horseshoe 
 Station, thirty-six miles west of Fort Laramie, and 
 I made the trip thither in company with Simpson 
 and his train. 
 
 "Almost the first person I saw after dismounting 
 from my horse was Slade. I walked up to him and 
 presented Mr. Russell's letter, which he hastily 
 opened and read. With a sweeping glance of his 
 eye he took my measure from head to foot, and then 
 said: 
 
 " 'My boy, you are too young for a Pony Express 
 rider. It takes men for that business.' 
 
 " 'I rode two months last year on Bill Trotter's 
 division, sir, and filled the bill then, and I think I 
 am better able to ride now,' said I. 
 
 " 'What! Are you the boy that was riding there, 
 and was called the youngest rider on the road?' 
 
 " 'I am the same boy," I replied, confident that 
 everything was now all right for me. 
 
 " 'I have heard of you before. You are a year or 
 so older now,_and I think you can stand it. I'll give 
 you a trial, anyhow, and if you weaken you can 
 come back to Horseshoe Station and tend stock." 
 
 "Thus ended the interview. The next day he 
 assigned me to duty on the road from Red Buttes 
 on the North Platte to the Three Crossings of the 
 Sweetwater — a distance of seventy-six miles — and 
 I began riding at once. It was a long piece of road, 
 
74 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 but I was equal to the undertaking, and soon after- 
 ward had an opportunity to exhibit my power of 
 endurance as a Pony Express rider. 
 
 "For some time matters progressed very smoothly, 
 though I had no idea that things would always con- 
 tinue so. I was well aware that that portion of the 
 trail to which I had been assigned was not only the 
 most desolate and lonely, but it was more eagerly 
 watched by the savages than elsewhere on the long 
 route. 
 
 "Slade, the boss, whenever I arrived safely at the 
 station, and before I started out again, was always 
 very earnest in his suggestions to look out for my 
 scalp. 
 
 " 'You know, Billy/ he would say, 'I am satisfied 
 yours will not always be the peaceful route it has 
 been with you so far. Every time you come in I 
 expect to hear that you have met with some startling 
 adventure that does not always fall to the average 
 express rider.' 
 
 "I replied that I was always cautious, made de- 
 tours whenever I noticed anything suspicious. 'You 
 bet I look out for number one.' The change soon 
 came. 
 
 "One day, when I galloped into Three Crossings, 
 my home station, I found that the rider who was 
 expected to take the trip out on my arrival, had 
 gotten into a drunken row the night before and had 
 been killed. This left that division without a rider. 
 As it was very difficult to engage men for the serv- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 75 
 
 ice in that uninhabited region, the superintendent 
 requested me to make the trip until another rider 
 could be secured. The distance to the next station, 
 Rocky Ridge, was eighty-five miles and through a 
 very bad and dangerous country but the emergency 
 was great and I concluded to try it. I, therefore, 
 started promptly from Three Crossings without more 
 than a moment's rest; I pushed on with the usual 
 rapidity, entering every relay station on time, and 
 accomplished the round trip of 322 miles back to Red 
 Buttes without a single mishap, and on time. This 
 stands on the records as being the longest Pony Ex- 
 press journey ever made. 
 
 "A week after making this trip, and v while passing 
 over the route again, I was jumped on by a band of 
 Sioux Indians who dashed out from a sand ravine 
 nine miles west of Horse Creek. They were armed 
 with pistols, and gave me a close call with several 
 bullets, but it fortunately happened that I was 
 mounted on the fleetest horse belonging to the ex- 
 press company and one that was possessed of re- 
 markable endurance. Being cut off from retreat 
 back to Horseshoe, I put spurs to my horse, and 
 lying flat on his back, kept straight for Sweetwater, 
 the next station, which I reached without accident. 
 
 Upon reaching that place, however, I found a sorry 
 condition of affairs, as the Indians had made a raid 
 on the station the morning of my adventure with 
 them, and after killing the stock tender had driven 
 off all the horses, so that I was unable to get a re- 
 
76 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 mount. I, therefore, continued on to Ploutz's Sta- 
 tion, twelve miles farther, thus making twenty-four 
 miles straight run with one horse. I told the people 
 at Sweetwater Bridge, and went on and finished the 
 trip without any further adventure. 
 
 "About the middle of September, the Indians be- 
 came very troublesome on the line of the stage road 
 along the Sweetwater. Between Split Rock and 
 Three Crossings they robbed a stage, killed the 
 driver and two passengers, and badly wounded Lieu- 
 tenant Flowers, the assistant division agent. The 
 red-skinned thieves also drove off the stock from the 
 different stations, and were continually lying in wait 
 for the passing stages and Pony Express riders, so 
 that we had to take many desperate chances in run- 
 ning the gauntlet. 
 
 "The Indians had now become so bad and had 
 stolen so much stock that it was decided to stop the 
 Pony Express for at least six weeks, and to run the 
 stages only occasionally during that period; in fact, 
 it would have been impossible to continue the enter- 
 prise much longer without restocking the line. 
 
 "While we were thus all lying idle, a party was 
 organized to go out and search for stolen stock. 
 This party was composed of stage drivers, express 
 riders, stock tenders, and ranchmen — forty of them 
 altogether — and they were well armed and well 
 mounted. They were mostly men who had under- 
 gone all kinds of hardships and braved every danger, 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 77 
 
 and they were ready and anxious to "tackle" any 
 number of Indians. Wild Bill, who had been driv- 
 ing stage on the road and had recently come 
 down to our division, was elected captain of the 
 company. It was supposed that the stolen stock had 
 been taken to the head of Powder River and vicin- 
 ity, and the party, of which I was a member, started 
 out for that section in high hopes of success. 
 
 "Twenty miles out from Sweetwater Bridge, at 
 the head of Horse Creek, we found an Indian trail 
 running north toward Powder River, and we could 
 see by tracks that most of the horses had been re- 
 cently shod and were undoubtedly our stolen stage 
 stock. Pushing rapidly forward, we followed this 
 trail to Powder River; thence down this stream to 
 within about forty miles of the spot where old Fort 
 Reno now stands. Here the trail took a more west- 
 erly course along the foot of the mountains, leading 
 eventually to Crazy Woman's Fork — a tributary 
 of Powder River. At this point we discovered that 
 the party whom we were trailing had been joined 
 by another band of Indians, and judging from the 
 fresh appearance of the trail, the united body could 
 not have left this spot more than twenty-four hours 
 before. 
 
 "Being aware that we were now in the heart of 
 the hostile country and might at any moment find 
 more Indians than we had lost, we advanced with 
 more caution than usual and kept a sharp lookout. 
 As we were approaching Clear Creek, another trib- 
 
78 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 utary of Powder River, we discovered Indians on 
 the opposite side of the creek, some three miles dis- 
 tant. At least we saw horses grazing, which was a 
 sure sign that there were Indians there. 
 
 "The Indians, thinking themselves in comparative 
 safety, never before having been followed so far 
 into their own country by the white men, had neg- 
 lected to put out any scouts. They had no idea that 
 there were any white men in that part of the coun- 
 try. We got the lay of their camp, and then held 
 a council to consider and mature a plan for captur- 
 ing it. We knew full well that the Indians would 
 outnumber us at least three to one, and perhaps 
 more. Upon the advice and suggestion of Wild 
 Bill, it was finally decided that we should wait until 
 it was nearly dark, and then after creeping as close 
 to them as possible, make a dash through their camp, 
 and then stampede the horses. 
 
 "This plan, at the proper time, was very success- 
 fully executed. The dash upon the enemy was a 
 complete surprise to them. They were so overcome 
 with astonishment that they did not recover from 
 the surprise of this sudden charge until after we 
 had ridden pell-mell through their camp and got 
 away with our own horses as well as theirs. We at 
 once circled the horses around toward the south, and 
 after getting them on the south side of Clear Creek, 
 some twenty of our men, just as the darkness was 
 coming on, rode back and gave the Indians a few 
 parting shots. We then took up our line of march 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 79 
 
 for Sweetwater Bridge, where we arrived four days 
 afterward with all our own horses and about one 
 hundred captured Indian ponies. 
 
 "The expedition had proved a grand success, and 
 the event was celebrated in the usual manner — by 
 a grand spree. The only store at Sweetwater Bridge 
 did a rushing business for several days. The re- 
 turned stock hunters drank and gambled and fought. 
 The Indian ponies, which had been distributed 
 among the captors, passed from hand to hand at 
 almost every deal of cards. There seemed to be no 
 limit to the rioting and carousing; revelry reigned 
 supreme. On the third day of the orgy, Slade, who 
 had heard the news, came up to the bridge and took 
 a hand in the 'fun/ as it was called. To add some 
 variation and excitement to the occasion, Slade got 
 into a quarrel with a stage driver and shot him, 
 killing him almost instantly. 
 
 "The boys became so elated as well as 'elevated' 
 over their success against the Indians, that most of 
 them were in favor of going back and cleaning out 
 the whole Indian race. One old driver, especially, 
 Dan Smith, was eager to open a war on all the 
 hostile nations, and had the drinking been continued 
 another week he certainly would have undertaken 
 the job single-handed and alone. The spree finally 
 came to an end; the men sobered down and aban- 
 doned the idea of invading the hostile country. The 
 recovered horses were replaced on the road, and the 
 
80 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 stages and Pony Express again began running on 
 time. 
 
 "Slade, having taken a great fancy to me, said, 
 'Billy, I want you to come down to my headquar- 
 ters and I'll make you a sort of supernumerary 
 rider, and send you out only when it is necessary.' 
 
 "I accepted the offer and went with him down 
 to Horseshoe, where I had a comparatively easy time 
 of it. I had always been fond of hunting, and I 
 now had a good opportunity to gratify my ambi- 
 tion in that direction, as I had plenty of spare time 
 on my hands. In this connection I will relate one 
 of my bear hunting adventures. 
 
 One day, when I had nothing else to do, I saddled 
 up an extra Pony Express horse and struck out for 
 the foothills of Laramie Peak for a bear hunt. Rid- 
 ing carelessly along, and breathing the cool and 
 bracing mountain air which came down from the 
 slopes, I felt as only a man can feel who is roaming 
 over the prairies of the far West, well armed and 
 mounted on a fleet and gallant steed. The perfect 
 freedom which he enjoys is in itself a refreshing 
 stimulant to the mind as well as the body. Such in- 
 deed were my feelings on this beautiful day as I 
 rode up the valley of the Horseshoe. Occasionally I 
 scared up a flock of sage hens or a jack rabbit. 
 Antelopes and deer were almost always in sight in 
 any direction, but as they were not the kind of 
 game I was after on that day I passed them by and 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 81 
 
 kept on toward the mountains. The farther I rode 
 the rougher and wilder became the country, and I 
 knew that I was approaching the haunts of the bear. 
 I did not discover any, however, although I saw 
 plenty of tracks in the snow. 
 
 "About two o'clock in the afternoon, my horse 
 having become tired, and myself being rather weary, 
 I shot a sage hen, and, dismounting, I unsaddled 
 my horse and tied him to a small tree, where he 
 could easily feed on the mountain grass. I then 
 built a little fire, and broiling the chicken and sea- 
 soning it with salt and pepper which I had obtained 
 from my saddlebags, I soon sat down to a 'genuine 
 square meal,' which I greatly relished. 
 
 "After resting for a couple of hours, I remounted 
 and resumed my upward trip to the mountain, hav- 
 ing made up my mind to camp out that night rather 
 than go back without a bear, which my friends knew 
 I had gone out for. As the days were growing 
 short, night soon came on, and I looked around fo? 
 a suitable camping place. While thus engaged, I 
 scared up a flock of sage hens, two of which I shot, 
 intending to have one for supper and the other for 
 breakfast. 
 
 "By this time it was becoming quite dark, and I 
 rode down to one of the little mountain streams, 
 where I found an open place in the timber suitable 
 for a camp. I dismounted, and after unsaddling 
 my horse and hitching him to a tree, I prepared to 
 
82 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 start a fire. Just then I was startled by hearing a 
 horse whinnying farther up the stream. It was 
 quite a surprise to me, and I immediately ran to 
 my animal to keep him from answering, as horses 
 usually do in such cases. I thought that the strange 
 horse might belong to some roaming band of In- 
 dians, as I knew of no white men being in that 
 portion of the country at that time. I was certain 
 that the owner of the strange horse could not be 
 far distant, and I was very anxious to find out 
 who my neighbor was before letting him know that 
 I was in his vicinity. I, therefore, resaddled my 
 horse, and leaving him tied so that I could easily 
 reach him, I took my gun and started out on a 
 scouting expedition up the stream. I had gone 
 about four hundred yards when, in a bend of the 
 stream, I discovered ten or fifteen horses grazing. 
 On the opposite side of the creek a light was shining 
 high up the mountain bank. Approaching the mys- 
 terious spot as cautiously as possible, and when 
 within a few yards of the light, which I discovered 
 came from a dug-out in the mountain side, I heard 
 voices, and soon I was able to distinguish the words, 
 as they proved to be in my own language. Then 
 I knew that the occupants of the dug-out were white 
 men. Thinking that they might be a party of trap- 
 pers, I boldly walked up to the door and knocked 
 for admission. The voices instantly ceased, and for 
 a moment a deathlike silence reigned inside. Then 
 there seemed to follow a kind of hurried whispering 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 88 
 
 — a sort of consultation — and then someone called 
 out: 
 
 " 'Who's there?' 
 
 " 'A friend and a white man,' I replied. 
 
 "The door opened, and a big, ugly-looking fellow 
 stepped forth and said: 
 
 " 'Come in.' 
 
 "I accepted the invitation with some degree of 
 fear and hesitation, which I endeavored to conceal, 
 as I thought it was too late to back out, and that 
 it would never do to weaken at that point, whether 
 they were friends or foes. Upon entering the dug- 
 out my eyes fell upon eight as rough and villainous 
 looking men as I ever saw in my life. « Two of them 
 I instantly recognized as teamsters who had been 
 driving in Lew Simpson's train, a few months be- 
 fore, and had been discharged. 
 
 "They were charged with horse-stealing and rob- 
 bery by a ranchman; and, having stolen his horses, 
 it was supposed that they had left the country. I 
 gave them no signs of recognition, however, deem- 
 ing it advisable to let them remain in ignorance as 
 to who I was. It was a hard crowd, and I con- 
 cluded the sooner I could get away from them the 
 better it would be for me. I felt confident that 
 they were a band of horse thieves. 
 
 " 'Where are you going, young man, and who's 
 with you?' asked one of the men, who appeared to 
 be the leader of the gang. 
 
84 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 " 'I am entirely alone. I left Horseshoe Station 
 this morning for a bear hunt, and not finding any 
 bears I had determined to camp out for the night 
 and wait till morning,' said I; 'and just as I was 
 going into camp a few hundred yards down the 
 creek, I heard one of your horses whinnying, and 
 then I came to your camp.' 
 
 "I thus was explicit in my statement, in order, if 
 possible, to satisfy the cut-throats that I was not 
 spying upon them, but that my intrusion was en- 
 tirely accidental. 
 
 "'Where's your horse?' demanded the boss thief. 
 
 " 'I left him down the creek,' I answered. 
 
 "They proposed going after the horse, but I 
 thought that would never do, as it would leave me 
 without any means of escape, and I accordingly 
 said, in hopes to throw them off the track, 'Captain, 
 I'll leave my gun here and go down and get my 
 horse, and come back and stay all night.' 
 
 "I said this in as cheerful and as careless a man- 
 ner as possible, so as not to arouse their suspicions 
 in any way or lead them to think that I was aware 
 of their true character. I hated to part with my 
 gun, but my suggestion of leaving it was a part of 
 the plan of escape which I had arranged. If they 
 have the gun, thought I, they will surely believe that 
 I intend to come back. But this little game did not 
 work at all, as one of the desperadoes spoke up and 
 said: 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 85 
 
 " 'Jim and I will go down with you after your 
 horse, and you can leave your gun here all the same, 
 as you'll not need it/ 
 
 " 'All right,' I replied, for I could certainly have 
 done nothing else. It became evident to me that it 
 would be better to trust myself with two men than 
 with the whole party. It was apparent from this 
 time on I would have to be on the alert for some 
 good opportunity to give them the slip. 
 
 " 'Come along,' said one of them, and together 
 we went down the creek, and soon came to the spot 
 where my horse was tied. One of the men unhitched 
 the animal, and said, 'I'll lead the horse.' 
 
 " 'Very well,' said I, 'I've got a couple of sage 
 hens here; lead on.' 
 
 "I picked up the sage hens which I had killed 
 a few hours before, and followed the man who was 
 leading the horse, while his companion brought up 
 the rear. The nearer we approached the dug-out, 
 the more I dreaded the idea of going back among 
 the villainous cut-throats. My first plan of escape 
 having failed, I now determined upon another. I 
 had both of my revolvers with me, the thieves not 
 having thought it necessary to search me. It was 
 now quite dark, and I purposely dropped one of 
 the sage hens, and asked the man behind me to pick 
 it up. While he was hunting for it on the ground, 
 I quickly pulled out one of my Colt's revolvers and 
 struck him a tremendous blow on the back of the 
 
86 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 head, knocking him senseless to the ground. I then 
 instantly wheeled around and saw that the man 
 ahead, who was only a few feet distant, had heard 
 the blow and turned to see what was the matter, his 
 hand upon his revolver. We faced each other at 
 about the same instant, but before he could fire, as 
 he tried to do, I shot him dead in his tracks. Then 
 jumping on my horse, I rode down the creek as 
 fast as possible, through the darkness and over the 
 rough ground and rocks. 
 
 "The other outlaws in the dug-out having heard 
 the shot which I had fired, knew there was trouble, 
 and they all came rushing down the creek. I sup- 
 pose by the time they reached the man whom I had 
 knocked down, that he had recovered and hurriedly 
 told them of what had happened. They did not 
 stay with the man whom I had shot, but came on 
 in hot pursuit of me. They were not mounted, and 
 were making better time down the rough mountain 
 than I was on horseback. From time to time I 
 heard them gradually gaining on me. 
 
 "At last they came so near that I saw that I 
 must abandon my horse. So I jumped to the 
 ground and gave him a hard slap with the butt of 
 one of my revolvers which started him on down the 
 valley, while I scrambled up the mountain side. I 
 had not ascended more than forty feet when I heard 
 my pursuers coming closer and closer; I quickly hid 
 behind a large pine tree, and in a few moments they 
 all rushed by me, being led on by the rattling foot- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 87 
 
 steps of my horse, which they heard ahead of them. 
 Soon they began firing in the direction of the horse, 
 as they no doubt supposed I was still seated on his 
 back. As soon as they had passed me I climbed 
 further up the steep mountain, and knowing that 
 I had given them the slip, and feeling certain I 
 could keep out of their way, I at once struck out 
 for Horseshoe Station, which was twenty-five miles 
 distant. I had very hard traveling at first, but upon 
 reaching lower and better ground I made good head- 
 way, walking all night and getting into the station 
 just before daylight — footsore, weary, and gen- 
 erally played out. 
 
 "I immediately woke up the men of the station 
 and told them of my adventure. Slade himself hap- 
 pened to be there, and he at once organized a party 
 to go out in pursuit of the horse thieves. Shortly 
 after daylight twenty well-armed stage drivers, stock 
 tenders and ranchmen were galloping in the direc- 
 tion of the dug-out. Of course, I went along with 
 the party, notwithstanding that I was very tired 
 and had hardly time for any rest at all. We had a 
 brisk ride, and arrived in the immediate vicinity of 
 the thieves' rendezvous at about ten o'clock in the 
 morning. We approached the dug-out cautiously, 
 but upon getting in close proximity to it we could 
 discover no horses in sight. We could see the door 
 of the dug-out standing wide open, and we marched 
 up to the place. No one was inside, and the gen- 
 eral appearance of everything indicated that the 
 
88 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 place had been deserted — that the birds had flown. 
 Such, indeed, proved to be the case. 
 
 "We found a newly-made grave, where they had 
 evidently buried the man whom I had shot. We 
 made a thorough search of the whole vicinity, and 
 finally found their trail going southeast in the direc- 
 tion of Denver. As it would have been useless to 
 follow them, we rode back to the station, and thus 
 ended my eventful bear hunt. We had no trouble 
 for some time after that." 
 
 A friend, who was once a station agent, tells two 
 more adventures of Cody's : "It had become known 
 in some mysterious manner, past finding out, that 
 there was to be a large sum of money sent through 
 by Pony Express, and that was what the road 
 agents were after. 
 
 "After killing the other rider, and failing to get 
 the treasure, Cody very naturally thought that they 
 would make another effort to secure it; so when he 
 reached the next relay station, he walked about a 
 while longer than was his wont. 
 
 "This was to perfect a little plan he had decided 
 upon, which was to take a second pair of saddle 
 pouches and put something in them and leave them 
 in sight, while those that held the valuable express 
 packages he folded up in his saddle blanket in such 
 a way that they could not be seen unless a search 
 was made for them. The truth was that Cody knew 
 he carried the valuable package, and it was his duty 
 to protect it with his life. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 89 
 
 "So with the clever scheme to outwit the road 
 agents, if held up, he started once more upon his 
 flying trip. He carried his revolver ready for in- 
 stant use and flew along the trail with every nerve 
 strung to meet any danger which might confront 
 him. He had an idea where he would be halted, if 
 halted at all, and it was a lonesome spot in a valley, 
 the very place for a deed of crime. 
 
 "As he drew near the spot he was on the alert, 
 and yet when two men suddenly stepped out from 
 among the shrubs and confronted him, it gave him 
 a start in spite of his nerve. They had him cov- 
 ered with rifles and brought him to a halt with the 
 words: 'Hold! Hands up, Pony Express Bill, for 
 we knew yer, my boy, and what yer carry.' 
 
 " 'I carry the express ; and it's hanging for you 
 two if you interfere with me,' was the plucky re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " 'Ah, we don't want you, Billy, unless you force 
 us to call in your checks, but it's what you carry we 
 want.' 
 
 ' 'It won't do you any good to get the pouch, 
 for there isn't anything valuable in it.' 
 
 " 'We are to be the judges of that, so throw us 
 the valuables or catch a bullet. Which shall it be, 
 Billy?' 
 
 "The two men stood directly in front of the pony 
 rider, each one covering him with a rifle, and to 
 resist was certain death. So Cody began to un- 
 
90 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 fasten his pouches slowly, while he said, 'Mark my 
 words, men, you'll hang for this.' 
 
 " 'We'll take chances on that, Bill.' 
 
 "The pouches being unfastened now, Cody raised 
 them with one hand, while he said in an angry tone, 
 'If you will have them, take them.' With this he 
 hurled the pouches at the head of one of them, who 
 quickly dodged and turned to pick them up, just as 
 Cody fired upon the other with his revolver in his 
 left hand. 
 
 "The bullet shattered the man's arm, while, driv- 
 ing the spurs into the flanks of his mare, Cody rode 
 directly over the man who was stooping to pick up 
 the pouches, his back turned to the pony rider. 
 
 "The horse struck him a hard blow that knocked 
 him down, while he half fell on top of him, but 
 was recovered by a touch of the spurs and bounded 
 on, while the daring pony rider gave a wild tri- 
 umphant yell as he sped on like the wind. 
 
 "The fallen man, though hurt, scrambled to his 
 feet as soon as he could, picked up his rifle and fired 
 after the retreating youth, but without effect, and 
 young Cody rode on, arriving at the station on time, 
 and reported what had happened. 
 
 "He had, however, no time to rest, for he was 
 compelled to ride on to the next station with the 
 pouches. He thus made the remarkable ride of 324 
 miles without sleep, and stopping only to eat his 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 91 
 
 meals, and resting only then but a few moments. 
 For saving the express pouches he was highly com- 
 plimented by all, and years afterward he had the 
 satisfaction of seeing his prophecy regarding the two 
 road agents verified, for they were both captured 
 and hanged by the vigilantes for their many crimes." 
 
 " 'There's Injun signs about, so keep your eyes 
 open.' So said the station boss of the Pony Ex- 
 press, addressing young Cody, who had dashed up 
 to the cabin, his horse panting like a hound, and the 
 rider ready for the fifteen-mile flight to the next 
 relay. Til be on the watch, boss, you bet,' said 
 the pony rider, and with a yell to his fresh pony 
 he was off like an arrow from a bow. 
 
 "Down the trail ran the fleet pony like the wind, 
 leaving the station quickly out of sight, and dash- 
 ing at once into the solitude and dangers of the vast 
 wilderness. Mountains were upon either side, tow- 
 ering cliffs here and there overhung the trail, and 
 the wind sighed through the forest of pines like the 
 mourning of departed spirits. Gazing ahead, the 
 piercing eyes of the young rider saw every tree, 
 bush, and rock, for he knew but too well that a 
 deadly foe, lurking in ambush, might send an arrow 
 or a bullet to his heart at any moment. Gradually 
 far down the valley, his quick glance fell upon a 
 dark object above the boulder directly in his trail. 
 
 "He saw the object move and disappear from 
 sight down behind the rock. Without appearing to 
 notice it, or checking his speed in the slightest, he 
 
92 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 held steadily upon his way. But he took in the 
 situation at a glance and saw that on one side was 
 a fringe of heavy timber, upon the other a precipice, 
 at the base of which were massive rocks. 
 
 " 'There is an Indian behind that rock, for I saw 
 his head,' muttered the young rider, as his horse 
 flew on. Did he intend to take his chances and 
 dash along the trail directly by his ambushed foe? 
 It would seem so, for he still stuck to the trail. 
 
 "A moment more and he would be within range 
 of a bullet, when suddenly dashing his spurs into 
 the pony's side, Billy Cody wheeled to the right, 
 and in an oblique course headed for the cliff. This 
 proved to the foe in ambush that he was suspected, 
 if not known, and at once there came the crack of 
 a rifle, the puff of smoke! rising above the rock 
 where he was concealed. At the same moment a 
 yell went up from a score of throats, and out of the 
 timber on the other side of the valley darted a 
 number of Indians, and these rode to head off the 
 rider. 
 
 "Did he turn back and seek safety in a retreat 
 to the station? No! he was made of sterner stuff 
 and would run the gauntlet. 
 
 "Out from behind the boulder, where they had 
 been lying in ambush, sprang two braves in all the 
 glory of their war paint. Their horses were in the 
 timber with their comrades, and, having failed to 
 get a close shot at the pony rider, the bullets pat- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 98 
 
 tered under the hoofs of the flying pony, but he 
 was unhurt, and his rider pressed him to his full 
 speed. 
 
 "With set teeth, flashing eyes, and determined to 
 do or die, Will Cody rode on in the race for life, 
 the Indians on foot running swiftly toward him, and 
 the mounted braves sweeping down the valley at 
 full speed. 
 
 "The shots of the dismounted Indians failing to 
 bring down the flying pony or their human game, 
 the mounted redskins saw that their only chance 
 was to overtake their prey by their speed. One of 
 the number whose war bonnet showed that he was 
 a chief, rode a horse that was much faster than the 
 others, and he drew quickly ahead. Below, the val- 
 ley narrowed to a pass not a hundred yards in 
 width, and if the pony rider could get to this wall 
 ahead of his pursuers, he would be able to hold his 
 own along the trail in the ten-mile run to the next 
 relay station. 
 
 "But, though he saw that there was no more to 
 fear from the two dismounted redskins, and that 
 he would come out well in advance of the band on 
 horseback, there was one who was most dangerous. 
 That one was the chief, whose fleet horse was bring- 
 ing him on at a terrible pace, and threatening to 
 reach there at the same time with the pony rider. 
 
 "Nearer and nearer the two drew toward the path, 
 the horse of Cody slightly ahead, and the young 
 
94 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 rider knew that a death struggle was at hand. He 
 did not check his horse, but kept his eyes alternately 
 upon the pass and the chief. The other Indians he 
 did not then take into consideration. At length that 
 happened for which he had been looking. 
 
 "When the chief saw that he would come out of 
 the race some thirty yards behind his foe, he seized 
 his bow and quick as a flash had fitted an arrow for 
 its deadly flight. But in that instant Cody had also 
 acted, and a revolver had sprung from his belt and 
 a report followed the touching of the trigger. A 
 wild yell burst from the lips of the chief, and he 
 clutched madly at the air, reeled, and fell from his 
 saddle rolling over like a ball as he struck the 
 ground. 
 
 "The death cry of the chief was echoed by the 
 braves coming on down the valley, and a shower of 
 arrows was sent after the fugitive pony rider. An 
 arrow slightly wounded the horse, but the others 
 did no damage, and in another second Cody had 
 dashed into the pass well ahead of his foes. It was 
 a hot chase from then on until the pony rider came 
 within sight of the next station, when the Indians 
 drew off and Cody dashed in on time, and in an- 
 other minute was away on his next run." 
 
 On one of Cody's rides he was halted in the canon 
 
 one day by an outlaw named , who said to 
 
 him: 
 
 "You are a mighty little feller to be takin' such 
 chances as this." 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 95 
 
 "I'm as big as any other feller," said Cody. 
 
 "How do you make that out?" the highwayman 
 asked. 
 
 "Well, you see, Colonel Colt has done it," the 
 youngster replied, presenting at the same time a 
 man's size revolver of the pattern that was so prev- 
 alent and useful among the men of the frontier. 
 "And I can shoot as hard as if I was Gin-ral Jack- 
 son," he added. 
 
 "I 'spect you kin an' I reckon you would," was 
 the laconic response of the lone highwayman, as 
 with a chuckle he turned up a small canon toward 
 the north. Cody flew on as if he were going for 
 the doctor. The man escaped the law, reformed, 
 and became a respectable citizen-farmer in Kansas, 
 and in 1871 told this writer, in St. Joseph, Missouri, 
 of the incident as here related. 
 
 Therefore, his name is omitted. 
 
 Of all the Pony Express riders, Cody has become 
 the best known. His rank as colonel belongs to him 
 by commission. Indeed, he has become commis- 
 sioned as brigadier-general; he has also been a jus- 
 tice of the peace to Nebraska, and was once a mem- 
 ber of the legislature, which entitles him to the 
 "Hon." that is sometimes attached to his name. But 
 he only cares to be a colonel on the principle, per- 
 haps, of the Kentuckian who, being addressed as 
 "General," refused the title on the ground that there 
 is no rank in Kentucky higher than colonel. But 
 
96 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 of all his titles, Cody preferred that of "Buffalo 
 Bill," by which he is known throughout the world, 
 which he obtained while filling a contract on the 
 plains in furnishing buffalo meat to feed the work- 
 men of General Jack Casement and brother, con- 
 tractors in the building of the Union Pacific Rail- 
 road. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Twentieth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THOSE WATERMELONS 
 
 IF you look back in your life you can remember 
 some old grouch that you'd like to get even with. 
 One of this kind crossed the path of "the Clan." He 
 made it uncomfortable for us whenever we went 
 near his farm in melon time. In fact several of the 
 boys know how a dose of bird-shot feels, and more 
 than one took his meals standing because of John 
 Duke and his bird-shot. 
 
 This old grouch was in town one day with a big 
 load of watermelons, taking them to Fort Leaven- 
 worth, three miles above, to sell to the soldiers. 
 
 Of course, as boys will, we gathered around the 
 wagon when he stopped in front of Hastings' store, 
 and one of the boys felt the sting of his whip as he 
 climbed on the wagon wheel. 
 
 Billy noticed that the end-gate was secured by a 
 piece of clothesline, and not the customary iron rod. 
 He also knew that Duke would have to drive up a 
 steep hill to get to Fort Leavenworth. Using his 
 
 97 
 
98 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Barlow knife for a bow, and the rope for a fiddle 
 string, Billy stood there innocently watching the old 
 grouch sell melons. When he was ready to go Billy's 
 tune was ended, and but a few strands remained of 
 the improvised fiddle string. Not a word was said 
 among the boys, but intuitively we followed, at a safe 
 distance, the load of melons. The hill was reached 
 and the splendid team lay to their collars as they 
 started up the incline. The rope held well but when 
 half way up the hill it became divorced and such an 
 avalanche of melons I never saw before or since. It 
 was not a landslide, it was a melon roll, a squash, 
 a crack, and the juicy cores lay temptingly red on 
 the road. We were not in sight, but if John Duke 
 had taken a skirmish in the deep hazel brush on 
 either side of the road there would have been some 
 tall running. As it was he only looked at the raveled 
 rope and said things. There were about twenty or 
 thirty melons left in the big wagon bed so he patched 
 up his end-gate and went on to the fort. And then 
 those harpies! How, like birds of prey over the car- 
 cass of a buffalo, they did descend on that fruit! We 
 ate till we could eat no more, and though there was 
 enough and to spare, we could only look with long- 
 ing eyes and leave it. But that is just the boy of it. 
 Boys of to-day will do the same thing, just so long 
 as there are surly, grouchy men to get even with. 
 
 And honest, I think Buffalo Bill hates an over- 
 bearing grouch to-day as much as Billy did then. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 99 
 
 Twenty-first "Pow-Wow JJ 
 
 BUFFALO BILL AS SANTA CLAUS 
 
 IT was a bitter cold winter in the mining camp. 
 The wind whistled down the gulches over the 
 foothills, bending the trees like so many willow 
 switches. Sleet, too, took a hand in the weird 
 chorus and the stoves and fireplaces in the saloons, 
 gambling houses and dance halls sent out a glow 
 inviting the outdoor sojourner to forsake his shack 
 or dug-out and mingle with the gay company, car- 
 ing not and not knowing who or what they were. 
 Out there it was considered a breach of camp eti- 
 quette to inquire of a man's past, or ask why he 
 left the states. I question if half t the names we 
 knew really belonged to the men who wore them. 
 True, there were men out there who, through the 
 alluring stories of gold which drifted back east, and 
 lost none in the telling, were there to get rich, hav- 
 ing in mind the young wife and little ones "back 
 there." 
 
 The adventurer, too, was there, and the profes- 
 sional gambler, at whose tables gathered the men 
 of the camp to take chances on doubling their dust 
 or going broke. It mattered not ; it was excitement 
 they were buying, and though small fortunes in real 
 gold changed hands daily, there was never a whim- 
 per. True it is, however, that once in a while a 
 pistol shot rang out, bearing notice that someone 
 had been caught cheating. 
 
100 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Those wildwood courts of justice acted quickly. 
 A man was found cheating at cards, was tried, con- 
 victed and executed in less time than the second 
 hand of your watch could hurry around its circle. 
 
 It is not fair to pick out the executioner and label 
 him a gunman, for all were gunmen, and as a rule 
 very sudden shots, for to reach for a pistol meant 
 one or two shots — never more, for but one would 
 be left to fire the third shot. 
 
 Now get me right. Don't, please don't, gather 
 from this that the camp was made up of murderers 
 and desperadoes; far from it, for some of the very 
 men I met in these gambling houses later became 
 the best citizens of the country. One became a 
 judge of the Colorado Supreme Court, another a 
 prosperous merchant in Denver, still another a 
 freighter, another a farmer whose thousands of 
 acres in Minnesota gave him a name second only 
 to the wheat king. Another became a show man 
 whose name is known world wide. Others I can- 
 not recall. However, that was the makeup of the 
 crowd which gathered in the warm saloon one Christ- 
 mas eve. 
 
 It was with regret that Buffalo Bill left the 
 circle on an errand that could not be denied. As a 
 government scout, he was on the trail of a band of 
 outlaws, and now he set out, hoping to locate them 
 by their campfire. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 101 
 
 Over the rise, down the swale, up the side of 
 the hill, he came upon a point where, glimmering 
 through the trees, he saw a light. 
 
 Confident that his search was at an end, he 
 hastened toward it, the whir of the wind drowning 
 all sounds and making caution unnecessary. He 
 knew he had found them. He knew he was equal 
 to them, for his rifle was ready, besides a brace of 
 pistols, one of which is now in my possession, and 
 all were loaded. 
 
 Closer he drew to the light. And as he neared 
 the window through which the light shone, he heard 
 children's voices. 
 
 He had happened upon the cabim of the Widow 
 Murphy, whose husband had been killed by the 
 explosion of his gun a few months before. The 
 voices he heard were those of little Jimmie and 
 Maggie, her two children. 
 
 Mrs. Murphy was not cultured as we take 
 it. Her language, was coarse — not vulgar — just 
 rough, and regardless of grammar. Her voice was 
 harsh and rasping, but she was a woman — a real 
 western woman — one of those who travel side by 
 side with their pioneer husband. 
 
 And further, she was a mother. 
 
 She worked hard at washing and mending for 
 the miners, that her little ones might be protected 
 from the bitter cold and have enough to eat. 
 
102 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 It was a hard winter, and the roughly built 
 shack could illy cope with the bitter winds. 
 
 Mrs. Murphy was a Christian mother, and in 
 spite of the hardships of the frontier, never once 
 slackened in her faith in the All-Father. Through 
 her Christian fortitude she could say, "Thy will be 
 done." She had taught her children to pray. 
 
 Drawing closer to the window, the scout heard 
 this: 
 
 "Now go to bed, my darlings. It is cold up 
 here, but we'll trust in God, for remember He is 
 everywhere. He is with us here, just the same as 
 He was back in the states." 
 
 "Tomorrow's Christmas," said the little boy. "Will 
 Santa Claus come like he used to in the states? 
 Let's hang up our stockings. Maybe God will tell 
 him about us." 
 
 And the little tots hung up their stockings. 
 
 Then they knelt down and said their prayers, ask- 
 ing God to send Santa Claus and telling him what 
 they wanted, remembering to ask for a shawl for 
 mother, and other things for her comfort. 
 
 All this Buffalo Bill heard, and it was with swell- 
 ing heart that he turned away, fully resolved that 
 it was the will of the All-Father that he should be the 
 Santa Claus to answer the prayers of the little ones. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 103 
 
 He knew where he would find a ready response 
 and hastened first to the gambling house of Ed. 
 McClintock, where he told the story of the little 
 ones, just as he saw it, and swinging off his som- 
 brero, chipped in a bunch of gold, and led off by 
 passing the hat. 
 
 The poker tables bore rich fruit — coin, nuggets, 
 dust and chips. 
 
 Some of the men, as I said before, had wives and 
 children back in the states, and many a tear rolled 
 down the faces of the hardy miners, who, unashamed 
 of this weakness, joined the impromptu celebration 
 and felt it a privilege to chip in. And it w T as none 
 of your penny contributions, you bet. It was gold, 
 and yet more gold, and if the truth were known, 
 many a fervent prayer, unspoken of course, accom- 
 panied the hand to the hat. 
 
 From out of that den to another still they went. 
 The game was broken up, and all joined the pro- 
 cession as from one saloon to another they went, to 
 this and that gambling house, until, that Christmas 
 eve, in that mining camp, not a card was played. 
 
 The roulette wheel stood still on the last winning 
 color. 
 
 It was Christmas eve, and the prayer of a child 
 had done more to close the gambling dens than a 
 sheriff with a posse could have done, or a preacher 
 could have accomplished by his most eloquent appeal. 
 
104 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 It was the spirit of the Christ child invoked by 
 the little tot "away out there." 
 
 The crowd went en masse to Mat Malone's gen- 
 eral store, having picked him up at Mason's, and 
 made him open up for business. 
 
 It would have done your heart good to see that 
 crowd making their Christmas purchases. True it 
 is, they did not do their Christmas shopping early, 
 as days go. But ere they had finished, it was about 
 two o'clock Christmas morning. Several large bun- 
 dles were made up, each wrapped, or rather dumped, 
 in a blanket. 
 
 It was a strange procession which, led by Cody, 
 traversed the snow-covered hills, through the gulches, 
 up the banks, through the wooded section to the 
 little shack. 
 
 Carefully and quietly each miner deposited his 
 load, easing it gently against the door, until it 
 reached up far above the latch. Surmounting the 
 whole was a sack of gold — dust, nuggets and coin. 
 
 To the same sack they tied a note telling the story 
 of the childish prayer, and adding: 
 
 "Accept this Christmas gift. It was sent by the 
 Christ who heard your children's prayer. 
 
 "Santa Claus." 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 105 
 
 Buffalo Bill volunteered to stand guard till day- 
 break, and the door was opened. Ed McClintock 
 and I stayed with him. 
 
 Early in the morning we saw the first plume of 
 blue smoke and we knew the widow was up building 
 a fire. 
 
 It was but a few moments before she opened the 
 door and the avalanche of Christmas came tumbling 
 in upon her. 
 
 We were too far away to hear what she said, but 
 mighty quickly the little ones were jumping up and 
 down around the big pile of stuff. We could hear 
 their glad shouts, but could not get the words. 
 
 However, we saw Mrs. Murphy gather her chil- 
 dren, and saw them all kneel, undoubtedly in thanks- 
 giving. 
 
 "God bless you, little cubs," said Bill, as we quiet- 
 ly stole away. 
 
 I have entirely lost track of Mrs. Murphy, but I'll 
 bet a dollar that if she is still alive, $100 wouldn't 
 buy the scrap of wrapping paper we tied to the 
 sack. 
 
 Honestly, fellows, I believe that the Lord used us 
 to answer that kid's prayer. And that's some good 
 we were in the world. 
 
106 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 BUFFALO BILL AS SANTA CLAUS 
 
 (in verse) 
 
 Note: The foregoing story is here given in verse. This 
 poem was written for the Prince of Wales (the late Edward 
 VII), and presented by him to his mother, Queen Victoria, in 
 an elegantly bound edition, hand illuminated. 
 
 'Twas Christmas on the border, 
 
 When the West was wild and young, 
 Before the days of railroads, 
 
 When many a horse-thief swung; 
 When men, to seek their fortunes, 
 
 Took their lives into their hands, 
 And dug and washed for gold dust 
 
 In those far-off golden sands. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 107 
 
 It was rough, I tell you, pardner, 
 
 Out in those mining camps, v 
 With only rough, big bearded men 
 
 Whose memory on me stamps 
 The fact, that 'neath the woolen shirt, 
 
 There beat big hearts and true, 
 As tender as a woman's, 
 
 And honest thru and thru. 
 
108 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The games were not as gentle 
 
 As tennis or croquet, 
 'Twas fashion to play poker there 
 
 And bags of dust the pay. 
 A mile or so from our camp, 
 
 A washerwoman lived, 
 Whose little children ate and wore 
 
 From what she earned and saved. 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 109 
 
 This Christmas eve I speak of 
 
 One of the boys was out; 
 He saw the washerwoman's light, 
 
 And turned, this western scout, 
 Straight for the lighted cabin — 
 
 For he was looking 'round 
 For a gang of thieves and outlaws 
 
 The cabin's light he found. 
 
110 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 With eager tread he hastened, 
 
 "IVe found them in their den," 
 Thought he, "and now I'll listen, 
 
 I think I've got my men." 
 With hand upon his pistol 
 
 He neared the cabin door, 
 And listened to the voices — 
 
 Then could not wait for more. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 111 
 
 To this the brave scout listened 
 
 Out on the border wilds: 
 "Oh, ma! to-morrow's Christmas!" 
 
 The sweet voice was a child's, 
 "And will the good old Santa come 
 
 And bring us toys and slates, 
 And pretty dolls and candies, too, 
 
 Like he used to in the States?" 
 
112 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "God grant he may," she answered, 
 
 "But I am not so sure 
 That Santa Claus will be so kind, 
 
 Now that we are so poor. 
 But go to bed, my darlings, 
 
 And say your evening prayer; 
 Remember God is in the West 
 
 As well as 'way back there." 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 118 
 
 The scout went to the window 
 
 Through which a bright light shone; 
 He saw her kiss the children, 
 
 "God bless you both, my own!" 
 "Gol darned if I can stand it"; 
 
 He wiped away a tear, 
 To which his eyes a stranger 
 
 Had been for many a year. 
 
114 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The little children went to bed — 
 
 They left the mother there, 
 And overcome with bitter grief, 
 
 She knelt in earnest prayer; 
 "Oh, God!" she said, and weeping, 
 
 "Remove this bitter cup; 
 How can I disappoint them, 
 
 They've hung their stockings up. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 115 
 
 "I've not a slice of bacon 
 
 Or crust of bread to eat, 
 When they awake for breakfast, 
 
 Nor nothing good or sweet; 
 Thy will be done, Oh Father, 
 
 But if it be Thy will, 
 Oh, let me get some clothes and wood 
 
 To ward off cold and chill." 
 
116 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 'Twas too much for the hardy scout — 
 
 He turned to move away, 
 But caught the children's voices, 
 
 And, to hear what they would say 
 He neared their bedroom window, 
 
 And while he waited there 
 He listened to the lisping, 
 
 As they raised their voice in prayer. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 117 
 
 "O, Dod bless our dear mamma, 
 
 Who works so hard all day, 
 And buys good things for us to eat, 
 
 When the miners come and pay; 
 An' Dod, you know she loves you, 
 
 And don't like folks what swears, 
 And makes her little children 
 
 Kneel down and say deir prayers. 
 
118 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 And, God, if 'taint much trouble, 
 
 I'll ask some more, because, 
 You see tomorrow's Christmas, 
 
 And please send Santa Claus 
 To put fings in our stockings — 
 
 We hung 'em up out dere — 
 Susie's by the chimney, 
 
 And mine is on the chair. 
 
 Now, Dod, please don't dis'point us, 
 
 Just send whatever suits; 
 Send sis a pair of nice warm shoes 
 
 And me a pair of boots. 
 And, Dod, please send a blanket — 
 
 This cover's awful thin, 
 And great big holes all thru the house, 
 
 They let the cold come in. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 119 
 
 Now, Dod, I'll say dood night to you, 
 
 Because I'se awful cold, 
 And if I ask for too much things 
 
 You'll think I'se getting bold; 
 But if you please, before you go, 
 
 I'll ask you — -this is all — 
 If it ain't too expensive, 
 
 Please send my ma a shawl." 
 
 "You bet your life He will, my boy," 
 
 The scout said, soft and low, 
 And turning then with silent tread — 
 
 Back to the camp did go. 
 "Wake up, you fellers, one and all, 
 
 And ante up with me — 
 I'll show you how to gamble 
 
 In a way you'll like to see." 
 
120 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "Now what's excited Buffalo Bill, 
 
 I wonder?" shouted one. 
 "Just listen," said the border scout, 
 
 "While thru my talk I run." 
 And then he told the story thru — 
 
 The facts set plain and clear; 
 And many a rough old miner's hand 
 
 Brushed from his eyes a tear. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 121 
 
 "Now, here's a twenty-dollar piece, 
 
 Who'll ante up with me, 
 To make the little children 
 
 Go wild and dance with glee?" 
 The poker tables bore rich fruit — 
 
 The stacks of gold heaped high; 
 "I'll go you one and raise you two," 
 
 "I'll stay with you or die." 
 
122 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Bill took his hat and passed it 'round, 
 
 "Be lively, boys, because 
 Before the sun is up, you know, 
 
 We'll all be Santa Claus." 
 The boys all chipped in coin and dust 
 
 Like men who business meant, 
 And then from out that gambling den 
 
 To another one they went. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 12* 
 
 And told the story o'er again — 
 
 The same results all 'round — 
 And others joined the merry throng, 
 
 And "chink" the gold did sound. 
 They went the rounds of all saloons 
 
 And gambling dens in camp, 
 With big, rough, honest, manly hearts 
 
 And torches for a lamp. 
 
124 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 It warn't no scrimping crowd, you bet, 
 
 The money poured like rain; 
 The rough old miners stood not back, 
 
 Nor were their efforts vain. 
 The money came, the men increased, 
 
 Then went they to the store, 
 To buy the things the children wished, 
 
 Warm clothes and food and more 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 195 
 
 Than had been thought or asked for 
 
 By the children while at prayer, 
 Or the mother in her fondest wish 
 
 For her little darlings there; 
 And many a miner rough choked up, 
 
 At the thought of cruel fates, 
 For some had wives and loved ones 
 
 Away back in the States. 
 
126 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 They heaped a pile of everything 
 
 The border store contained, 
 For the widow and her children, 
 
 Until nothing else remained 
 For them to do, but get it there 
 
 To the widow's lowly home — 
 Then was their night's work finished, 
 
 And then abroad they'd roam. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 127 
 
 There were lots of us rough fellows 
 
 (For I was in the crowd), 
 And each man gathered up a load, 
 
 Though no one spoke aloud. 
 And then, led on by Cody, 
 
 To the widow's lonely hut, 
 Across the gulch, beyond the hill, 
 
 We took the shortest cut. 
 
128 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Then quiet every miner 
 
 Deposited his load 
 Before the little cabin door, 
 
 Then gathered in the road; 
 And in that pile was everything 
 
 The widow could desire: 
 And of pure virgin gold a sack 
 
 Still made the pile raise higher. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 129 
 
 And to the sack they tied a note 
 
 Which bade the widow cheer, 
 And said: "Accept this Christmas gift 
 
 From One who's always near, 
 For God has heard your children, 
 
 And this is here because 
 It was your darlings' earnest prayer 
 
 And God sent Santa Claus." 
 
130 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "Who'll stand guard till daybreak?" 
 
 "Buffalo Bill," said Cy. 
 "And with his trusty rifle 
 
 He'll guard the gift or die." 
 A man all clad in buckskin 
 
 Stepped out and said "I will!" 
 The miners knew the gift was safe 
 
 The man was Buffalo Bill. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 
 
 181 
 
 On the bright Christmas morning 
 
 She opened wide the door, 
 And an avalanche of Christmas 
 
 Came tumbling on the floor. 
 The children heard the rumble 
 
 Of the gifts, and without #pause 
 They came in from their bedroom 
 
 And shouted "Santa Clausl" 
 
132 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The widow knelt beside them, 
 
 Despite their childish pranks; 
 With streaming eyes and fuller heart 
 
 Returned to God her thanks. 
 And stealthy through the bushes 
 
 There moved off one so still, 
 "God bless you, little cubs," said he, 
 
 Then vanished Buffalo Bill. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Twenty-second "Pow-Wow" 
 
 BLACK DEATH 
 
 IT looked bad one time on the plains for any small 
 bodies of emigrants or "westward ho" travelers, 
 for the Indians were either on the warpath, or were 
 possessed of that nervous, warlike feeling which 
 needed but a spark or a temptation in the shape of 
 opportunity to make of them fiends incarnate. That 
 was the year well remembered by many of us whose 
 locks are gray, when cholera was committing ravages 
 among the red men. 
 
 Black death, they called it, and all the super- 
 stitious horror of this unseen enemy, which strikes 
 in the dark, seemed to overshadow them. 
 
 On the occasion which leads to this anecdote, I 
 chanced to be with Scout Cody ahead of a wagon 
 train bound for a government post far out on the 
 frontier, with supplies — rations for the soldiers. 
 
 It was the custom of Cody, as scout, to ride far in 
 advance of the train in order the better to give them 
 time to prepare for attacks by the Indians, if he 
 discovered them, or to select a place to camp, if 
 possible, beside a water course or water hole. 
 
 133 
 
134 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 We were well mounted and well armed, besides 
 being good shots. At least the other one was, and 
 of that the world well knows. 
 
 We had just turned the rise of a hill or "divide" 
 when Cody's long distance sight made out a large 
 party of Indians, coming our way. He turned back 
 to us and said, "Walt, ride like hell back to the train 
 and tell them to corral for a fight." 
 
 Walt turned his horse and soon but a cloud of 
 dust told us that he was letting his noble mare hit 
 the prairie as fast as she wanted to, and she was 
 some racer. 
 
 I asked Bill: "Why not turn back ourselves, and 
 make for the wagon train?" 
 
 "They've seen us, and it would only hasten mat- 
 ters if we turned tail. Better face it out here with 
 a pow-wow. It's the only thing to do. It will save 
 the train — " 
 
 "But, Bill." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 And the way he said "well" meant a whole lot. 
 It was the ultimatum. It sounded to me that some- 
 body had to die to save the train, and we were 
 elected. 
 
 Now if I were to brace up at this late date, and 
 say that I looked well after my trusty rifle and pre- 
 pared for the worst, it would be so big a lie that our 
 friend Ananias would reach to embrace me. I did 
 no such thing. I simply sat my horse and shivered. 
 I was scared stiff. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 135 
 
 Cody, however, shading his eye, watched the on- 
 coming horde of red devils, and bidding me sit my 
 horse, dismounted and taking his red blanket from 
 his saddle went out alone and on foot to meet them. 
 With the blanket over his arm he made a sign to 
 them and spread the blanket upon the prairie and 
 stood upon it, his long hair waving in the wind, his 
 hand uplifted, thus appearing a statue turned to 
 stone in the act of command. 
 
 They approached him, and two or three bucks and 
 the chief dismounted and came to his blanket. The 
 oncoming crowd stopped and partly surrounded him, 
 while three others pressed on to where I sat holding 
 the horses and trying to say the Lord's prayer to 
 rag-time. 
 
 The pow-wow lasted but a short time, and the 
 Indians who came to secure me, made no move, save 
 to plant themselves on either side, and one of them 
 condescended to say, "How." 
 
 "How," said I, but that was all. For the life of 
 me, I couldn't think of a funny story to tell them, 
 so I contented myself with asking one of them for 
 "tobac," which he reluctantly gave me. I lighted my 
 pipe, took a puff and offered it to him, but he re- 
 fused, so there was no peace pipe smoke in our little 
 pow-wow. 
 
 Soon, however, I saw the pipe passed around 
 those who sat on the blanket with Cody, and I knew 
 there was some progress made by him. They had 
 consented to "talk" with him, and shortly after he 
 
186 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 stood up, waving his arms to the sky, turning each 
 way, giving the same heavenward signals. It was 
 less than ten minutes after his physical culture act 
 that the entire band mounted and, turning from the 
 east, took up their journey to the southwest, chant- 
 ing the death song of some tribe, or some other hor- 
 rible melody. 
 
 My two friends, without even a Mexican "adios" 
 or Indian "how" departed after the moving band, 
 leaving me with a full pipe of tobacco, but with a 
 scare which I am sure made my red hair stick out 
 like last fall's swamp grass. 
 
 When Cody returned I asked him how he did it. 
 
 "I threatened to call Black death from the skies 
 of the east, the west and the north if they did not 
 take the trail I pointed out, and as they suffered the 
 loss of several by cholera the night before, I guess 
 they thought there was something to my incanta- 
 tions, for I used the name of the thunder god, and 
 every god they feared, calling on the Great Spirit of 
 the Medicine Man to loose the Black death if they 
 did not move, or to grant them freedom from it if 
 they went peacefully away. I simply had to act like 
 a locoed idiot and lie like sin. It was the only thing 
 to do, and you see my cards won." 
 
 Many deaths occurred that summer among the 
 Indians, and the ravages of cholera served to quell 
 what promised to be a general uprising. 
 
 Bill with big bluff accomplished that day what a 
 regiment of soldiers could not have done. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Twenty-third "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE NATION'S GUEST 
 
 WHO wears the spurs must win them. Thus it 
 was taught years after I commenced my career 
 as a bandit and stole a pair of spurs. And I never 
 have developed into much of a bandit at that. 
 
 Tonight I am sitting at my desk smoking. Would 
 you visualize my surroundings? The walls of my 
 study — no, that "study" sounds too much like a 
 preacher, or Prof. Woodrow Wilson, — well, the 
 walls of my office, for it is my home — my sanctum- 
 sanctorum, and it is here with my pipe I dream 
 dreams — are hung with pictures of men I have 
 learned to love. I see the face of my old pard, Buf- 
 falo Bill, and next to him I see Otto Korn and A. 
 G. Smith, each flanked by John Q. JefTeries and 
 Ben Jacobsen. Below these hangs a pair of spurs. 
 And thereby hangs a tale. 
 
 These spurs I stole from the boots of the Grand 
 Duke Alexis, the heir prospective to the throne of 
 all the Russias. 
 
 Here's how it happened : 
 
 The Grand Duke Alexis of Russia was the guest 
 of this government and to properly entertain him a 
 
 137 
 
138 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 great buffalo hunt was proposed. This hunt was 
 placed in charge of the world's greatest buffalo 
 hunter, Buffalo Bill, who at that time was chief of 
 scouts of the United States Army and held that 
 position under the government with a colonel's 
 commission. 
 
 Where Bill Cody (Buffalo Bill) was, there was I, 
 and this grand hunt was no exception to the rule. 
 
 Say, pardner, did you ever cross the plains in the 
 early days; when the west was wild and young; 
 when a puddle of water in a buffalo hoof track was 
 a godsend? This question is addressed only to real 
 men, the pioneers, who, like myself, knew the west 
 when the west was young — men only over whose 
 heads have passed years three score and ten; men 
 who, starting across the boundless prairies, took it 
 as a gamble whether they would reach their destina- 
 tion or meet St. Peter with an arrow through their 
 body or a chunk of lead lodged somewhere in their 
 anatomy. But I digress and no wonder — the durn 
 pipe went out. 
 
 I was speaking of the Grand Duke Alexis, the 
 buffalo hunt, his spurs. Well, the plains in those 
 days did not furnish parlor cars and ice water and 
 champagne and — but that's getting too darn mod- 
 ern. As I said before, it was when the west was 
 young. But on this occasion a generous government 
 set out to entertain a royal visitor royally and she 
 did, too. 
 
 The Grand Duke Alexis was the guest of this 
 government, and it was on the program, it seems, to 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 139 
 
 give him the real thrill of a buffalo hunt on the 
 American plains. As a preliminary and to make it 
 a success, General Sheridan sent General Forsyth 
 and Doctor Asch of his staff to arrange with Buf- 
 falo Bill to take charge of the expedition as chief 
 guide and demonstrator. 
 
 At that time Spotted Tail and his Sioux In- 
 dians were in that territory, by permission of the 
 government, to hunt buffalo. Cody was commis- 
 sioned by General Sheridan to visit Spotted Tail 
 and induce him to ask about a hundred of his leading 
 warriors and chiefs to visit the place where the camp 
 would be located, so that the grand duke should see 
 a body of American Indians and observe the manner 
 in which they killed buffalo. This was all arranged 
 by Cody, and it was understood that Spotted Tail 
 and his warriors should visit the camp in about "ten 
 sleeps." 
 
 By the way, the next morning when the warriors 
 were together many of them recognized Cody as 
 their enemy, "Pa-has-ka," meaning "long hair," as 
 they had met him in action when they were driven 
 out of the Republican river country. 
 
 However, Spotted Tail said, as he handed his 
 peace pipe to Cody, that he wanted his people to be 
 kind to him and treat him as his friend. On the 
 morning of January 12, a special train arrived at 
 North Platte, Neb., and was met by Cody, Captain 
 Hayes and a company of cavalry under Captain 
 Eagan with six ambulances and about twenty saddle 
 horses. 
 
140 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 General Sheridan accompanied the grand duke 
 and, with several of his staff and the suite of the 
 grand duke, we had quite a party. A long line of 
 government wagons was loaded with all the deli- 
 cacies of the four seasons in both solid and liquid 
 form. Every luxury which could be transported on 
 wheels was there — not forgetting Bass Pale ale in 
 earthen bottles, the finest of liquors of all brands, 
 both rye, bourbon and Scotch, not forgetting old 
 Holland gin and — wipe off your chin, old timer, 
 — champagne, Sauturne and corn down to harmless, 
 blushing port. All were there and in a territory 
 where in our own times, we real Americans were 
 charmed to lie on our bellies, sweep the green scum 
 off the water in a buffalo wallow, and share the 
 stagnant water with our mounts. Don't you remem- 
 ber, old timer? 
 
 Well, that was the kind of an outfit our govern- 
 ment provided to extend American courtesies to the 
 scion of foreign nobility. The hunt was more like a 
 pageant or a migratory circus of the olden time 
 looking for a town to show in. Of supply wagons 
 there was a train — the first train de luxe to cross 
 the plains. There was a full company of United 
 States cavalry to act as escort and as many mule- 
 whackers and outriders, to say nothing of night 
 herders, camp cooks and an imported chef. 
 
 It was a great game and in this case as much a 
 novelty to the mule-whacker as it was to his royal 
 highness, the grand duke. Speaking of the Grand 
 Duke Alexis, let me say that to the person who has 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 141 
 
 been used to thinking of royalty as a person clad in 
 a purple velvet cloak lined and trimmed with ermine, 
 wearing a spiked crown of solid gold, studded with 
 diamonds and rubies and emeralds as big as the end 
 of your thumb — forget it! The grand duke was a 
 man, just a regular man, well built, of a kindly 
 countenance and his voice not smooth or effeminate 
 and yet not coarse and rasping. His words as he 
 spoke in English did not flow in liquid form nor 
 were they hitched up to run in smooth sentences. 
 On the contrary, he conveyed his meaning in the 
 fewest possible words and they came rather — jerky, 
 shall I say? And at times he would pause for an 
 instant to get the proper word, but never was up in 
 the air to make himself understood. 
 
 Of course, when he talked to his companions of 
 his own country we did not follow him. The lan- 
 guage was rough in sound and articulation, but, to 
 judge from his kindly countenance and smile, we 
 knew the other fellow wasn't catching thunder or get- 
 ting a calling. 
 
 I have since wondered if a Russian courtship did 
 not sound like a wagon running over a corduroy 
 bridge or sl rickety street car with a flat wheel trying 
 to earn a seven-cent fare. 
 
 The first night out the camp was such as the 
 plains never knew before. Sentinels were posted at 
 intervals in a circle a full mile distant each way. 
 The stock horses and mules were in charge of the 
 night herders and, contrary to the usage on the 
 plains at that time, the campfire blazed high, giving 
 
142 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 the surroundings a wild, weird aspect as the lights 
 and shadows chased each other. 
 
 The second day out was simply an easy drive, and 
 the long train moved leisurely to a point selected by 
 Buffalo Bill where the buffalo on their way to drink 
 would have to pass. 
 
 Along toward noon a herd of buffalo was sighted 
 and the hunters prepared for the chase. The grand 
 duke was mounted on Buffalo Bill's celebrated pony, 
 Brigham, and furnished with a rifle which in the 
 hands of Cody was in the habit of getting a buffalo 
 every time. 
 
 The grand duke, escorted by Cody, Sinclair, Estes 
 and Tucker, started for the moving herd. His high- 
 ness was a good rider and a good shot for ordinary 
 hunters, but the buffalo game was new to him. 
 
 However, Brigham laid him up alongside a buf- 
 falo and he fired two shots, putting them just be- 
 hind the left shoulder according to instructions, and 
 just here is where he wasn't onto the buffalo game. 
 
 A trained buffalo pony will let you get close 
 enough to place your shots and then, knowing that 
 the wounded buffalo will turn and gore him, makes 
 a quick getaway, turns at right angles and beats 
 it at high speed. This his highness was not prepared 
 for and he was nearly unhorsed. As it was, he lost 
 his rifle and came in hanging onto the pommel with 
 one knee thrown over the saddle, but still retaining 
 his grip. 
 
 He got his buffalo, however, and that head and 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 143 
 
 skin is probably in some Russian museum today if 
 it is not sacked and ruined by the late war. 
 
 That night, when everything was still, when those 
 who celebrated the grand duke's victory were sleep- 
 ing, when the scent of roasting buffalo meat had 
 been wafted away by the night breezes of a perfect 
 night, a member of the hunters' gang walked boldly 
 to the tent which sheltered the grand duke and 
 picked up his boots and started off with them. He 
 was at once stopped by the men in the tent, but he 
 made motions to indicate a polish or a rub, wearing 
 all the time a smile and an air of "all right." Of 
 course, those in the other tent did not speak English 
 — if they could they did not. So, followed by one 
 of them, that durn bold thief took the boots to a 
 commissary wagon and gave them a swab of grease, 
 taking off the spurs to better smear the dope. After 
 these brief ceremonies were gone through with, he 
 handed the boots to the Russian who took them back. 
 In the morning that darn thief put the spurs on his 
 own boots and slipped his in the commissary wagon 
 with his other traps. There was no fuss made about 
 the spurs and I doubt if the Grand Duke Alexis 
 ever missed them. 
 
 But those identical spurs now hang on the wall 
 of my den in company with other curios. Long 
 after I stole the spurs I read somewhere, "Thou 
 shalt not steal," but I guess that was meant for some 
 fellow in Jerusalem or Damascus. 
 
 That is the story of the spurs. Of course, that 
 did not wind up the hunt. Other buffalo were killed, 
 
144 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 and the robes or skins were all baled and salted for 
 the grand duke, and with the head of the buffalo he 
 killed — a fine specimen — were sent to Fort Leav- 
 enworth where the robes were soft tanned by mem- 
 bers of the tribe of Delaware Indians. Under their 
 chief, "Ross," they were living in comparative civili- 
 zation at and around the Osage mission, south of 
 Leavenworth City, the present site of the National 
 Soldiers' home. 
 
 Speaking of Chief Ross of the Delawares, his 
 wife was a white woman and his daughter, a half- 
 breed, was known far and wide as the most beauti- 
 ful Indian girl. Ross himself was not much to look 
 at — just Indian, that's all, but I must say if he 
 had been a white man he would have made his mark 
 as an organizer at least, if not a statesman. His 
 was a kindly nature and he was simply worshipped 
 by his tribe. He had the esteem and was on friendly 
 terms with the Cherokees, the Sac and Fox and the 
 remaining few of the Osage tribes. The mother was 
 really a handsome woman, well equipped with good 
 common sense, but uneducated as schooling goes. 
 The daughter for a time attended school in Leaven- 
 worth, having, as I remember, for her teachers, 
 David J. Brewer, the late United States supreme 
 judge, and the outlaw, Quantrall, who during the 
 Civil War sacked and burned Lawrence, Kan. I 
 am not sure but that she also went to school to H. 
 D. McCarty, afterwards state auditor, I think, of 
 Kansas, and during the war, lieutenant colonel of 
 the First Kansas infantry. 
 
'iWafedB^ST* 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Twenty-fourth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 JESSE JAMES 
 
 IT IS not necessary to introduce Eugene Field to 
 you. He is known the world over as the children's 
 poet. He loved children and was beloved by them. 
 It was my good fortune to be pretty close to 'Gene. 
 We were both dreamers and by that same token we 
 understood each other. Together we worked on the 
 old St. Joe (Mo.) Gazette, then owned by Tuft & 
 Gilbert, 'Gene as a managing editor and I as fore- 
 man and telegraph editor. Our friendship ripened 
 into that camaraderie, that esteem, that love which 
 when binding men, spells friend in all that the name 
 implies. We swore by and at each other. We 
 dumped our sorrows on each other and together we 
 shared our pleasures. Many of his poems, which 
 later became household gems, were read to me as 
 he reeled them off verse by verse. 
 
 'Gene was a humorist and his "Tribune Primer," 
 which first appeared in the Denver Tribune, caused 
 many a hearty laugh. I think the first along that 
 line was one he wrote in St. Joe one night as we 
 sat in the editorial rooms waiting for "30." Out 
 
 145 
 
146 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 of and just below our window were a couple of 
 cats "telling how it happened." Gee, but they were 
 in earnest. They both yowled at once. To them it 
 may have been cat harmony, but to us it amounted 
 to a catastrophe. 
 
 Finally 'Gene laid aside the proof he was read- 
 ing and penciled the following, which he handed 
 to me: 
 
 "See the cat and the kit, 
 The cat is the dam of the kit, 
 Dam the cat and the kit." 
 
 But that is really an aside, or off the question. 
 However, it came to me as a cloud of smoke, so I 
 just had to write it. 
 
 One night as we sat in the office we got a hanker- 
 ing to go hunting, and the more we talked about it 
 the more we knew we were going, if it cost us our 
 jobs. 
 
 'Gene had his hunting stuff, rifle, etc., at Kansas 
 City, and one morning bright and early we took the 
 train for that place, intending to go to the "squirrel" 
 woods, near Independence, or Liberty, Mo. We 
 got started in good season, and we took up our hunt. 
 
 Lord, what a walk! How our feet blistered! 
 How hungry we got! But we didn't get a squirrel. 
 
 It was nearing noon and we simply had to have 
 something to eat. In those days every house had a 
 place for a stranger at the table and it was also 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 147 
 
 understood that the stranger should pay for his 
 grub. We sighted a little house partly of logs and 
 partly frame, and we marked it as our "tavern." It 
 was nearly noon as we approached the house, being 
 welcomed by a hound chorus — they didn't have a 
 brass band handy. We stood outside the gate and 
 hallooed, "Hello the house," and the door was 
 opened and an elderly lady appeared. Of course, 
 the answer was all right, so we stepped in. 
 
 "Lay off your traps, gentlemen (with the accent 
 on the last syllable), and go out to the pump and 
 wash — the men'll be home pretty soon. You all 
 bin huntin'? Have any luck?" 
 
 We told her that we had, but had seen nothing 
 to shoot. 
 
 Well, we went to the pump and found there a 
 bench made of a split log with legs set into it, and 
 upon it was a tin basin and a cake of yellow soap. 
 
 We made ourselves presentable in the open air, 
 so far as dust and grime were concerned, and when 
 we went into the house we were shown to a mirror 
 or rather an old-fashioned looking glass. I can see 
 it now. The upper half had a gayly colored picture 
 of a church among awfully green trees and a yellow 
 road leading up to it, winding like a serpent with 
 a jug of home brew. Beside it, hung by a string, 
 was a very ancient horn comb, which sadly needed 
 a dentist, or a set of new teeth. But we used it. 
 Microbes, you know, were not fashionable in those 
 days. 
 
148 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 On the center table in the "parlor" was a big 
 family Bible, and Ayer's almanac, a vase of wax 
 flowers and an album. 
 
 We had got fairly seated after looking over the 
 "what-not" in the corner and the pictures on the 
 wall when we heard the shout of the "men folks," 
 "Hello, mother, dinner ready?" 
 
 "Yes; two men in the front room waitin'." 
 
 The son stepped in and said, "Hello, gentlemen. 
 Waitin* for dinner?" 
 
 We told him who we were and what we were 
 after, and as we sat there I could not help feeling 
 queer, for I recognized Jesse James — the man with 
 a price on his head. I had never met him before, 
 but I had seen him once. That was when he rode 
 through a crowd at the Kansas City fairgrounds 
 with a pistol drawn, having just robbed the box 
 office of the fair. 
 
 To be sure, I felt chilly. 
 
 But he soon put us at ease. He asked us if we 
 knew him and I told him I did. "You're Jesse 
 James," said I, and 'Gene's face turned the color 
 of a newly laundered shirt front. 
 
 He laughed it off and did not appear to fear us 
 two cusses. I think he knew we would not arrest 
 him and drag him before the bar of justice. If he 
 didn't, I knew we wouldn't. We were not looking 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 149 
 
 for that kind of game. It was little, harmless, un- 
 armed squirrels we sought. 
 
 "Would you gentlemen care for a little licker be- 
 fore dinner?" he asked. We were in no position to 
 refuse, neither were we inclined to decline that hos- 
 pitality. 
 
 We both said yes at once and he disappeared, to 
 return shortly with a tin dipper holding nearly a 
 pint of real liquor, which he served in tea cups. 
 
 We sat down to a big country meal, homemade 
 bread, real butter, fried squirrel and plenty of 'em, 
 not to forget the "flour gravy," beet pickles, pump- 
 kin pie, 'serves and good strong coffee, the whole 
 preceded by a bourbon curtain raiser. 
 
 The curtain raiser with its close predecessor mel- 
 lowed us up and we talked of Jesse James' life, 
 touching on the problem of why he was not in hid- 
 ing, or why he remained at home, knowing that there 
 was a reward offered for him, dead or alive. 
 
 He told us that the whole home neighborhood for 
 miles around was his friend; that no officer, sheriff 
 or posse could reach him before he was warned by 
 his friends and that the sheriff of his county was 
 not only his friend, but that he had eaten dinner 
 there the day before. 
 
 Of course, it is not up to me to make a hero of 
 an outlaw, but I am giving you the plain facts, as 
 we encountered them. 
 
150 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 His mother, Mrs. Samuels, had lost an arm, and 
 even with this handicap set us out a dinner "like 
 mother used to do." 
 
 After dinner Jesse James went out with us and 
 we got fourteen squirrels. 'Gene shot one and it 
 was my luck to bring down two. We blame Jesse 
 James for the rest. 
 
 We left in the early evening for Kansas City, 
 but not before we had shaken hands with the out- 
 law and thanked both him and his mother for the 
 pleasant afternoon, dinner and supper, paying for 
 the last two items as a matter of course, the standard 
 price being 25 cents a meal (with the licker 
 thrown in). 
 
 A few days after our return to St. Joe 'Gene 
 wrote a half-column story about our being guests 
 of Jesse James and his mother and we took good 
 care to send them half a dozen marked copies of the 
 Gazette. 
 
 About three months after this episode, I was 
 again invited to be a guest at the James house. The 
 invitation included 'Gene, but as he was in St. Louis 
 at the time, he could not be reached. But you bet 
 that I lost no time in filing my answer and the fol- 
 lowing Thursday I appeared on the scene, ready 
 for a bang-up newspaper story. 
 
 Arriving at the home I was met by Mrs. Samuels 
 and made welcome. It was really a hunting dinner, 
 for, as she told me, the men were out in the timber. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 151 
 
 As it was nearly noon, I did not have long to wait. 
 My horse was taken care of by a negro, and I was 
 made comfortable, as I drew the hickory bottom 
 chair up to the fire place and got warm, for it was 
 pretty frosty and chilly. There were several neigh- 
 bor women there, and I judged it was a family re- 
 union, but no, it was just a neighborhood dinner. 
 
 I was introduced all around, and as nearly as I 
 can remember, there were Mrs. Edwards, Mrs. Cal- 
 vert and Mrs. Mason and Mrs. or Miss Richards, 
 I do not remember which. The older women were 
 smoking pipes, which was by no means unusual in 
 those parts. 
 
 Soon Jesse James and another man, I think Mr. 
 Mason, came in with several rabbits, quail and 
 prairie chickens. 
 
 It was a real old country gathering and there was 
 no air of secrecy or suspicion, though even at that 
 time there was a price on the head of Jesse James. 
 In that country, as I said before, every one was the 
 friend of Jesse James and the first news of a posse 
 would at once be brought to him, by man, woman, 
 boy or girl. 
 
 The reason is probably this: No person in that 
 country ever suffered from Jesse James or any of 
 his "gang." On the contrary, more than one poor, 
 shall I say shiftless, family was carried through a 
 hard winter because of his help. 
 
152 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 When the call came for dinner, we went out into 
 the big kitchen, which also served as a dining room. 
 
 This was an old-fashioned wild turkey dinner. I 
 do not recall the cranberry sauce, perhaps they did 
 not have any, but a snap of my finger for that, for 
 we had all we could eat without any city frills. 
 
 Did you ever go home to grandma's house for a 
 Thanksgiving dinner? (I mean you who read this 
 after having passed the half century mark.) Well, 
 get out your napkin, for your mouth will water. 
 
 In the center of the long table there were two 
 wild turkeys, each with its "trimmings," filling a 
 huge platter. One had blue Chinese houses and 
 trees, while the other was yellow with a white stripe 
 around it. This difference in design better illus- 
 trates the neighborliness of those Missouri people. 
 (Each one had brought with her plates, cups, 
 saucers, spoons, knives and forks.) Now you have 
 the eating tools, but listen while I tell you what 
 we handled with them. 
 
 The wild turkey, done to a turn, crisp and brown, 
 chock full of real sage dressing such as grandma 
 only knew how to mix. Generous vegetable dishes 
 piled high with mashed potatoes, with a crater like 
 a vegetable volcano and that filled with butter which, 
 as it melted, ran down the sides of the mound like 
 the picture of Mount Aetna in our old geography. 
 Then notice two or three yellow bowls, filled with 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 153 
 
 rich brown gravy so oily that it would make the 
 modern dyspeptic fear for the worst. But we did 
 not mind it — dyspepsia was no more fashionable 
 than germs in those days down in Missouri. 
 
 Then there were beet pickles and cucumber pickles 
 and mince pies and strong coffee with real cream, 
 great stacks of soda biscuits, piping hot, and butter 
 — real butter. I don't know how many kinds of 
 preserves and jams were on the table. I paid no 
 particular attention to them; I was busy with the 
 turkey. 
 
 After we had eaten till we were almost to the 
 "bustin' " point, we took our chairs with us, went 
 into the front room and lighted our pipes. 
 
 In passing, I may say that one of the guests was 
 the sheriff or deputy sheriff of the county, and he 
 was a big, good-natured fellow who, as he related a 
 story of this or that happening, would verify it by 
 calling to his wife, "Didn't we, Matt?" I have often 
 thought, as the years have passed, that this officer 
 was a member of the Jesse James gang, but nothing 
 that was said would lead me to suspect it. It was 
 the general air of camaraderie which existed be- 
 tween the outlaw and the officer. But at that time 
 I gave no thought along those lines. 
 
 Jesse, apparently unmindful of a stranger, but 
 really for my benefit, discussed freely two train rob- 
 beries, naming no one but himself, but referring to 
 his companions as "the boys." He told me, also, 
 
154 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 that he got credit for robberies and holdups for 
 which he was not responsible. And in this connec- 
 tion, mentioned a gang led by the Moore brothers, 
 who in private life were coopers and worked for 
 Mat Ryan of Leavenworth, Kan., who was a butcher 
 on a large scale and sold lard by the barrel. Both 
 the Moore boys had been killed a few months be- 
 fore while escaping from a sheriff's posse near St. 
 Louis. 
 
 The evening was well along before I left for 
 Kansas City and my horse was brought out by the 
 negro, well cared for and ready for the start. 
 
 I recall one of Jesse's stories in fragments, and 
 I believe I can piece it together. In Kansas City, 
 on Delaware street, I think, or Main street near the 
 junction, a man named Matt Foster kept a large 
 book and stationery store. In times past, Foster 
 had befriended Jesse James' father in a small finan- 
 cial way. Once in a holdup Foster was robbed of 
 his watch and chain, an amethyst ring and a cameo 
 breast pin, together with his billbook and a small 
 sum of money. 
 
 That night when the gang met at Mrs. Metcalfe's 
 boarding house on Wyandotte street, the pocket- 
 book was recognized by Jesse James because of a 
 letter addressed to Matt Foster. Jesse made in- 
 quiries of the one who took it — there were six of 
 the gang there that night — and the other articles 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 155 
 
 turned in by his "pals" were taken, tied up in a 
 handkerchief and delivered personally that night to 
 Foster by Jesse James himself, who knocked at the 
 door and when it was opened, handed in the pack- 
 age, and mounting a horse held by a comrade, rode 
 away into the night. This I got from Jesse himself. 
 
 There are lots of stories afloat of the James boys, 
 many of which may or may not be true. One in 
 particular I recall, but it sounds so much like a 
 movie scenario that it might be pure romance. 
 However, this much is true. A woman friend and 
 neighbor of his mother moved to St. Louis and 
 opened a boarding house. She was an Irish woman 
 named Mrs. Mahaffee, and her boarders were mostly 
 printers working on the St. Louis Democrat, Here 
 when they were in St. Louis, Jesse and Frank 
 James always stopped over night. But here's the 
 story: 
 
 One night Jesse came to the house, knocked at 
 the door of the family room — it was a side door — 
 and was admitted. He found the old lady in a state 
 of excitement and dejection. Her story was told 
 to Jesse in substance as follows: She had made 
 several payments on her house, and it was nearly 
 paid up. A real estate shark, or possibly the man 
 who held the mortgage, demanded the rest at once, 
 and she was unable to pay. The next evening he 
 was coming for the money, and if it was not forth- 
 coming she would lose her property — all she had 
 in the world. 
 
156 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The story goes that Jesse went out that night and 
 got the money for her — it does not say that he 
 borrowed it or earned it — he got it. 
 
 True to his promise, the mortgage holder came 
 the next night ready to make the old lady trouble, 
 but, as we would read on the movie screen, "She 
 had the cash." 
 
 We don't know whether the villain said "Coises!" 
 or "Foiled!" but the cash was paid and a receipt 
 in full handed over which gave to Mrs. Mahaffee 
 her house. 
 
 But Jesse was secreted there and as the "Base 
 Villain" walked out with the cash in his pocket, the 
 lettering on the screen reads, "Hands up!" and the 
 cash found its way again into Jesse's pocket. 
 
 Maybe this incident did not occur, but anyway 
 it's just like Jesse James. 
 
 I never saw him after that dinner but once — on 
 Robidoux street in St. Joseph, Mo. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Twenty -fifth "Pow-Wow" 
 "abbie" 
 
 WE were in advance of a government wagon 
 train, far out on the plains of western Kansas. 
 The sun had long since gone down behind the hills 
 and we could but dimly make out the timber line. 
 By "timber line" I don't mean the upper edge of 
 the timber as you go up the mountains, where snow 
 and verdure meet, but those strips of timber which 
 skirt the water courses of the west. * 
 
 When we reached the timber, a campfire sparkled 
 through the trees and we could see the red smoke 
 as with an occasional shower of sparks upward, it 
 marked the camping place of westward bound trav- 
 elers. 
 
 A shot and a heart-piercing shriek broke out on 
 the still air. Scream followed scream, as we plunged 
 the spurs into our horses and dashed to the rescue 
 of whom or what we did not know. Cody first, 
 Sinclair next, Powell next, with the writer close 
 behind, followed by Ed. Estes, James Currie, mule 
 drivers and a "greaser" from the wagon train. So 
 far in advance was Cody, that when we came up, 
 two Indians were laid out and the others, maybe 
 four or five had disappeared, and Billy was releas- 
 
 157 
 
158 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 ing the man of the camping party from his wagon 
 wheel where he had been bound by Indians — Dog 
 Soldier Indians — the outlaws of the plains. The 
 wife and mother lay dead, a baby's brains had been 
 dashed out, and a girl about ten years old was re- 
 leased from the embrace of an Indian by a well- 
 directed shot from Cody's pistol. This was one of 
 the two who would never raise another scalp. The 
 man's name, we learned, was Cooper. The little 
 wife and mother was laid tenderly under a tree, and 
 later when the wagon train came up, she was buried 
 at the foot of that giant of the forest, and in the 
 bark of that cottonwood tree the word "Abbie" was 
 carved by the husband, and the little woman was 
 left alone in God's wild country, the soughing winds 
 and rustling leaves chanting nature's requiem. 
 
 Mr. Cooper and his daughter accompanied us to 
 Denver, and there for a long time we lost sight of 
 them. 
 
 A few years later, Cody, the scout, was handed 
 a letter written by Hillyard Cooper, asking him to 
 take charge of "Little Abbie," now about 14 years 
 old. Her father had died, and the child was found 
 in keeping of a miner and his wife. Cody at once 
 took charge of the little one, sent her back to Leav- 
 enworth where in the home of a good Christian 
 family she was educated and grew to womanhood 
 — the child of the plains — the ward of the scout. 
 
 She is now the wife of a prominent St. Louis 
 man of the old school, and her grandchildren re- 
 vere the name of Buffalo Bill. 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 159 
 
 Twenty-sixth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 HON. W. F. CODY 
 
 IF I were to lay down my pen without speaking 
 of Cody as a law maker, this would be incom- 
 plete. While away on a hunt in 1870, I think it 
 was, his friends elected him a member of the Ne- 
 braska legislature. When he came home, and was 
 informed of the honor thus thrust upon him, he sim- 
 ply "bucked," and told his friends he wouldn't 
 serve. "A joke's a joke," said he, "but this is rather 
 beyond it." When told that it was all straight, and 
 that his district needed him, he finally buckled down 
 to the facts in the case, and proceeded to look up 
 the duties of his new office, and prepare himself to 
 make good. 
 
 And he did make good. There are laws upon 
 the statutes of Nebraska today, establishing the rights 
 of settlers which were formulated and placed there 
 by Buffalo Bill. He at once put on the harness 
 and proceeded to do business. 
 
 A born leader and organizer, it was not long be- 
 fore he had the hang of the ropes and had his or- 
 ganization complete, ready to co-operate with him 
 in anything for the good of the young state. In 
 those days the corruption of a legislator was not 
 an easy matter, and knowing Cody as the people 
 did, they feared to approach him. 
 
 And here let me describe him. He wouldn't cut 
 his hair, which lay in massive locks upon his 
 shoulders. He wouldn't wear a plug hat, or a dress 
 
160 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 suit. He wore his trousers tucked in his boots and 
 his gun was always where he could pull on the drop 
 of a hat. But those were the days when every man 
 went armed. In this he was not uncommon. 
 
 He was "approached" once, however, by a smooth 
 representative of an eastern firm of land grabbers, 
 who, poor silly fool, thinking that "every man had 
 his price," sought to enlist Cody in a move to swin- 
 dle settlers out of their lands. I chanced to be vis- 
 iting Bill at the time. 
 
 Did you ever hear Buffalo Bill roar? 
 
 No? 
 
 Well, then, in his show days did you ever hear 
 his stentorian voice as he introduced "The Congress 
 of Rough Riders of the World?" 
 
 Well, Bill used that same voice. And he roared. 
 And he cussed. Yes, he gave that poor cringing 
 devil the most beautiful line of rhythmical profanity 
 it has ever been my good fortune to hear. Impreca- 
 tions, maledictions and double- jointed, embossed and 
 embellished cuss words rolled from his lips like 
 bourbon from a moonshiner's jug. He fairly flat- 
 tened the poor devil against the wall, and, opening 
 the door told him if he was in town the following 
 day he would fill him so full of holes that a colander 
 would be air tight compared to him. This he told 
 him as he was busy putting his boot where it would 
 emphasize his language and give vent to his feel- 
 ings. It was this which really brought him to the 
 front as a maker of that law which protected the 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 161 
 
 rights of the settlers and secured to them their land, 
 which today comprises some of the finest farms the 
 sun shines on. 
 
 That year the Kansas legislature entertained the 
 Nebraska legislature at Topeka. It was a grand 
 gathering of those western solons. The big guns, 
 the grand speakers and prominent politicians were 
 all there and made speeches, but the greatest crowd 
 surrounded Buffalo Bill. He was the observed of 
 all observers. His fame as a scout and Indian 
 fighter was there before him, and added to that, his 
 law for the benefit of the settlers was known and 
 applauded. 
 
 But at the grand ball in the evening! When the 
 ladies flocked around him. He was sadly out of 
 his element. He showed the white feather and at 
 an opportune moment he turned to me and said: 
 
 "It's too warm here for us. Let's slope for the 
 licker room." 
 
 "You're right, my pard," says I. 
 
 Twenty-seventh "Pow-Wow" 
 
 BUFFALO BILL'S BILL 
 
 SPEAKING of Buffalo Bill as a law maker puts 
 me in mind of a retort he made in the heat of 
 debate. It was when his bill to protect the rights 
 of settlers came up, and as it was being discussed, 
 one member objected to locking the land up for 
 future generations. 
 
 "We are looking," said the member, "for our- 
 selves and not the generations yet unborn. We will 
 
162 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 let the future take care of itself. We are making 
 laws for ourselves and for the present." 
 
 I can still see a flash of Cody's eye as he arose 
 to defend his bill — that bill which still holds good 
 and through which the present generation has life, 
 liberty and the pursuit of happiness, guaranteed 
 to Americans by the constitution so wisely builded 
 by its makers at Independence Hall over two hun- 
 dred years ago. 
 
 "Mr. President," said Bill, as he arose, and was 
 recognized by the chair, "we are building for the 
 future, just the same as Washington and his con- 
 gress built for the future. It was for the future 
 that the constitution of the United States was 
 planned, and here in this age we reap its benefits. 
 It was a wisely constructed document, for, mark 
 you, Mr. President and gentlemen, it in its original 
 entirety, applies to us out here on the border of the 
 boundless west just as perfectly as it did at the 
 birth of the Republic and when the Mississippi river 
 was thought of as the jumping off place of the 
 world. 
 
 "That document, Mr. President, was an inspired 
 one. Had it been constructed to fit the then present 
 it would be a worthless parchment today. 
 
 "There is no present. 
 
 "Today is yesterday tomorrow, and now is then, 
 in a twinkling. 
 
 "When we are young we are struggling, hoping, 
 fighting, working for the future, buoyed up by the 
 good angel, Hope, for a place in the future. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 163 
 
 "All our energies are forward bent. We throw 
 our lariat over the point of a star and secure it to 
 our wagon. We burn the fires of our youth and 
 middle age, we keep our muscles tense, buoyed up 
 with bright prospects ahead. Not for now are we 
 working, it is for the future — the evanescent fu- 
 ture — just beyond — out of our grasp. We attain 
 this or that object only to use it as a stepping-stone, 
 and thrusting ourselves further into the future, push 
 it behind us. 
 
 "Is it not the truth? All the men we know are 
 in the conflict. Some not such energetic fighters, 
 some idly lying on the surface drifting along, wait- 
 ing for something to turn up — mayhap the toes of 
 a rich relation — but all looking to the future. 
 
 "The hand of time moves on picturing the good, 
 the bad, the fortunate and the failure, the swift sail- 
 ing steamer and the unmanned derelict — all drift- 
 ing or pushing, for the future. But the future is 
 never reached so that we may stand solid thereon 
 and say: 'This is truly the present.' 
 
 "There comes a time when we cease to care so 
 much for the now or for the future. Many there 
 be who, as we look at them we say: 'He's rich, he's 
 happy.' 
 
 "The same man we envy looks lovingly back to 
 the good old times of the past. Pleasant memories 
 present to him the many pleasures he had, but which 
 were not appreciated in his struggle for the evasive 
 future. 
 
164 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "Back in that humble cottage, away back there, 
 sits father, mother, brother, sister, around the eve- 
 ning lamp — a happy home. 
 
 "Memory works. The roseate hue of the first 
 throes of love pass before his vision. A sweet-faced 
 schoolgirl — his early love is there — the pleasant 
 walk to and from school with steps slow — oh, so 
 slow, and with the parting of the ways all too close. 
 The future is discussed between you two — you re- 
 member it. Castles of air and with all the hues of 
 the rainbow are builded. 
 
 "Another movement of memory. Your bride sits 
 by your side. All is sweet, all is heaven, and as hand 
 in hand you sit in the twilight, you build more 
 castles, looking forward, ever forward to — the fu- 
 ture. 
 
 "A tiny hand, a golden curl, a sweet face, a sun- 
 shine in your home. Oh, the joy of motherhood — 
 the pride of the young father, as he strokes the 
 silken hair of his first-born, the man of the future, 
 your boy. 
 
 "Do you recognize the picture on the plate of 
 memory? It is the castle you builded for your boy, 
 your little Carl. All is joy, hope, faith in j^our son. 
 Every energy shall be bent, every nerve strained to 
 make that boy — your boy — a man among men, a 
 leader, respected and honored of all men. 
 
 "The picture of our memory still moves. We do 
 not see the record of the present. The light fails, 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 165 
 
 the picture dims. A little white cot, a lovely child 
 flushed with fever. 
 
 "Listen! a soft bell is tolling 
 "A little white hearse, with its following, winds 
 slowly up over the hill to the silent city of marble. 
 "That is all. 
 
 "The future, as we turn to it, presents our true 
 friend, Hope. Holding in her hand a scroll, she, 
 with her fairy wand, points to the words: 
 
 " ' Suffer little children to come unto Me' — and, 
 as we ponder the meaning, we locate the home of 
 our little loved one. 
 
 "Hope turns a page. 
 
 1 'I go to prepare a place for you' — 
 
 " 'Hope springs eternal in the human breast' they 
 say, and by her help we read the guide board — the 
 message our little Carl left as the good angel bore 
 him onward. 
 
 ' 'I am here ; our home is waiting. Waiting for 
 papa and mamma.' 
 
 "It was the Christ child whose natal day we cele- 
 brate made this possible. It was His advent on 
 earth. His thirty years' journey; his great sacrifice 
 which called into being the good angel Hope, always 
 beckoning us onward, always pointing forward to 
 the future — the bright future just beyond — 
 
 "No, there is no present. 
 
166 
 
 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 "Then let us build for the future. The past has 
 gone. We have only the future. 
 
 "Let us here and now build for the generations 
 yet unborn. When our proud state shall be known 
 as a commonwealth of contented homes." 
 
 This speech was made just before Christmas, and 
 the bill was passed, securing the rights of settlers in 
 Nebraska, and presented to that state as a Christ- 
 mas gift. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Twenty-eighth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 WHITE FAWN 
 
 THIS was the name borne by a white girl who 
 had been stolen while a baby by the Indians. 
 It was in the days of the big plains, when Denver 
 was but a handful of houses, shacks and tents. It 
 was long before the bands of steel had united the 
 oceans, and dotted the western prairies with farms, 
 towns and cities. It was in the days when a horde 
 of redskins would appear to a moving family or 
 train of movers, and steal live stock, and in many 
 instances murder the party outright. 
 
 Camped for the night on the banks of a stream 
 was a party of movers, seeking homes in the new 
 west. A band of Indians (Cheyennes) came upon 
 the party, and drove off their live stock, shot two 
 of the men, mistreated the women, and carried away 
 captive a little child ten years old. One of the men 
 was so badly wounded that he died the second day 
 after, but the others were unhurt. A single team 
 of horses escaped the stampede and were hitched 
 to one of the wagons, and moved on. The mother 
 of the little one was frantic, but there was no trace 
 
 167 
 
168 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 of her child or of the Indians, so there was nothing 
 to do but to move on with the party, leaving her 
 little one to her fate. This may sound heartless, but 
 it would avail the mother nothing to stay at the 
 scene of her trouble. Her little one was gone, and 
 she fervently prayed that the Good Lord in His 
 mercy had taken her to himself. Days wore them- 
 selves into weeks, weeks into months, and no tidings 
 of the child. The word had gone out, and every 
 plainsman knew of the stolen child and kept a look- 
 out for her. But now it faded from their memory. 
 
 Years afterward when Cody was a pony express 
 rider he heard of a white girl with a tribe of Indians. 
 She was known as "White Fawn," and Cody de- 
 termined to see if it were the lost girl. He watched 
 for that migrating tribe, and his efforts were re- 
 warded after several months, searching at odd times, 
 when he was not on a scouting trip or guiding a 
 train. 
 
 It was at a time when the red men were at peace 
 with the whites, a temporary lull so that they could 
 draw rations from the government, that Cody, who 
 was attached to a supply train, came upon White 
 Fawn as she, with the members of her tribe, came 
 into camp to draw their supplies. There were 
 no established trading posts then. The Indians were 
 in camp a short distance from the supply camp, and 
 the young scout made a night visit to the Indian 
 camp. He waited his opportunity to get a word 
 with the girl, and it seemed she was anxious to speak 
 with him. But the watchful eye of the old squaw, 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 169 
 
 her foster mother, prevented. There was, however, 
 a friendly squaw who met Cody and volunteered 
 her assistance to spirit the girl beyond the limits of 
 the camp, to a point where the young scout could 
 meet her. The meeting was a success and plans 
 were then laid whereby "White Fawn" was to leave 
 her red people and go with him to "the States/ 5 ' 
 where she could be with the whites. 
 
 It was a long story, as it was told me, though he 
 succeeded in getting her away. The night was fixed, 
 and the girl and her Indian friend were at the spot 
 appointed. Cody was there with his own horse and 
 a government horse, and the buckskin traveling 
 trunk of White Fawn was strapped to the saddle. 
 Not a soul in camp knew of the move save the offi- 
 cer in command, and it was through him that Cody 
 secured the extra horse. It was midnight when the 
 pair started for the fort and it was early morning 
 before they reached it. 
 
 For some time the two rode over the prairies, 
 along the wagon trail, each moment taking them 
 farther away from danger of discovery or capture, 
 for the Indians were very jealous of White Fawn 
 and discovery of her absence would be quickly fol- 
 lowed by pursuit. 
 
 Slowing down their horses as they ascended a rise, 
 they felt rather secure. The night was a perfect 
 one, bright with stars, and the moon had not yet 
 risen. 
 
 Listen! Far to the rear came faintly the sound 
 of hoof beats muffled by the turf road of the prairies. 
 
170 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Not one, but many, it seemed, and the sensitive hear- 
 ing of the horses seemed to take on the importance 
 of hurry, and without spur or whip they went to 
 their work. The short respite had rested the well- 
 broken thoroughbreds, and they easily took the long 
 swinging gallop of a trained prairie horse. It was 
 their native heath and both horses were of superior 
 wind and range. Not an ounce of fat. All muscle 
 and bone and wind which would far out-strip the 
 most highly prized thoroughbreds of the east. 
 
 A word to his horse, and the animals with one 
 accord let out another link of speed, but still nearer, 
 nearer and more distinct came the pursuers. It was 
 a ride to the finish. It was the chase of death, for 
 well Cody knew that a capture by that Indian horde 
 meant death for him and worse for his girl com- 
 panion. 
 
 White Fawn set her lips and urged her gallant 
 steed forward. Not a sound of fear did she utter. 
 Only an encouraging word and a tap of her moc- 
 casined feet in the animal's flank. The moon com- 
 ing up threw a flood of light over the prairie and 
 shed a radiance on the race. 
 
 On came the savages, half a dozen in number, 
 mounted on fresh horses. On they came, until find- 
 ing they were discovered, they raised that curdling 
 yell so well known to the plainsmen. It was the 
 cry of demons. It was the wild chant of death. 
 Would the noble horses hold out half an hour 
 longer? Could they? 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 171 
 
 Already their sides thumped and their breath 
 came in labored puffs, but still the mettle of the war- 
 horse never slackened speed. Now the course was 
 a gentle slope down the hill, and the advantage they 
 gained would put them pretty close to the fort, at 
 least within gunshot sound. 
 
 The mad race continued, and the Indians, well 
 knowing they must capture them quickly or give up 
 the chase, put their horses to their best. 
 
 They were gaining. 
 
 Cody saw that the race was over, and something 
 must be done, for their horses showed signs of giv- 
 ing out. The noble animals were almost at the end 
 of their endurance. 
 
 The fort was in sight, but still a good, long dis- 
 tance away. 
 
 "Ride your best, but spare your horse," said Cody. 
 "Don't wait for me, but ride, ride." 
 
 White Fawn kept up the pace while Cody turned 
 in the saddle and saw the Indians just over the brow 
 of the hill. Like a statue he and his horse stood, 
 he ready with his rifle, and the horse, breathing hard 
 but gaining" its lost wind. 
 
 As soon as the foremost came within range, Cody 
 sent a well-directed shot and dropped the oncoming 
 horse. This gave him time, for the Indians stopped 
 for a moment, but soon they were again on the 
 chase. Another shot from Cody, and still another 
 had a tendency to slacken their speed to keep them 
 out of his range. This was continued until one 
 
172 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 young buck, more reckless than the rest, rode far 
 in advance of the others and opened fire on Cody. 
 He was not a good shot, but Cody turned in the 
 saddle and this time shot the rider, not the horse. 
 
 This ended the pursuit, and just as the gray of 
 dawn was dimming the moonlight, Cody and White 
 Fawn rode into the fort. 
 
 The horses were worn out, but thanks to the love 
 of every plainsman for horses, they were at once 
 taken in hand and cared for as tenderly and kindly 
 as though they were the winning favorites of a king. 
 
 White Fawn was taken charge of by the wife 
 of one of the officers, and through the good, big 
 heart of General Carr, she was taken to the East, to 
 be educated, and fitted to take her place as a white 
 woman. The news of her capture got into the papers 
 and it was not long before her parents came from 
 Denver to claim their long lost child. The good 
 natured General Carr suggested that the waif of 
 the prairies be given the name of "White Fawn 
 Cody," or as he put it in a joking manner, "Cody's 
 Deer." 
 
 White Fawn is not a person of the past. True, 
 she is not the bounding lassie she was when she was 
 "an Indian," but she is a well-preserved Denver 
 lady with little white fawns of her own, who in turn 
 have their families about them. The world has been 
 kind to White Fawn, and I think she will read this 
 little sketch of herself in her own beautiful Denver 
 home. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 178 
 
 White Fawn spends much of her summer outing 
 with Col. Cody's sister — Mrs. Decker, in the health- 
 ful climate of Cody City, Wyoming, up in the moun- 
 tains where the air is pure and the waving pines give 
 out their health laden aroma, where the mountain 
 trout are plentiful, and big game lures the adven- 
 turous hunter. 
 
 Twenty -ninth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 ALONE WITH GOD 
 
 IF you are a fairly old man, you could have seen 
 what I have seen. But if you are as old as the 
 everlasting hills and have never been west of the 
 Missouri river, you could not have seen it. 
 
 Have you ever been alone with God? 
 
 Go with me to the vast and seemingly endless 
 prairies of the west, ride alone all day, far, far from 
 any human habitation, over the boundless sea of 
 waving prairie grass, the summer sun beating down 
 upon you, catching a drink now and then from a 
 buffalo wallow or a water hole, watching the blazing 
 sun transformed now into a big red ball nestle 
 quietly down into the same sea of green which sur- 
 rounds you on all sides. 
 
 If you know your horse, or as in my case, your 
 mule, you will take off saddle and bridle and turn 
 him loose to roll and graze the night through or 
 settle down for a quiet snooze, well fitted for rest 
 by his tiresome journey. 
 
 You settle your saddle for a pillow, spread your 
 blanket, open your grub sack and take out your 
 
174 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 hard tack and sow belly and proceed to have supper. 
 You light your fire of dried grass of last year's vin- 
 tage, backed by dried buffalo chips, and do what 
 cooking you can in the shape of frying the bacon 
 in its own grease, making coffee in your "horseback" 
 camp kettle, and with an appetite whetted by "the 
 plains," devour as a dainty morsel such grub as 
 would turn your stomach "in civilization." 
 
 But you are on the plains. Restaurants and short 
 order houses are not sending out their enticing 
 odors. Bacon has a mighty fine flavor, and besides, 
 the legs of that jack rabbit, browned to a turn in 
 the bacon grease, makes good eating. Butter? Nope, 
 bacon's good enough. 
 
 But supper's over. You fill your pipe and set- 
 tle down for a good smoke. You are all alone. It 
 is dark. You can hear your mule feeding just a 
 few yards away. As he grazes here and there, pick- 
 ing the choice tufts of buffalo grass, you can hear 
 each time he cuts off a tuft and grinds it up with a 
 champ, champ. 
 
 You settle down on your back, look up, up into 
 the dark, spangled distance. A mammoth dark bowl 
 covers you. It is studded with stars. At all points 
 the great circle comes down and resting upon the 
 earth, shuts you in. You do not have a feeling of 
 being shut in; on the contrary, you feel free, free, 
 alone — it is all yours. Yours to gaze upon; to 
 breathe in the pure air of the boundless west. 
 
 You are alone — with God. 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 175 
 
 You feel safe. 
 
 True it is, alone as you may feel, there are hun- 
 dreds — nay, thousands — to bear you company. 
 Listen to the noise of the silence — a paradox. Hear 
 the katydid, the grasshopper, and the thousands of 
 other insect hymns of praise to the Great Ruler of 
 the Universe. 
 
 This is God's country. 
 
 It may be that your sleep will be deep and un- 
 broken till the early dawn, or perhaps your mule, 
 waking up, has missed you or wandered away. Then 
 he will tune up as only a lonesome mule can, and 
 call for you. You will know it is a call, for it is 
 more plaintive and entirely different from the bray 
 of the animal under ordinary circumstances. 
 
 I am judging your mule by my mule. You rise 
 up and call or answer your faithful companion and 
 he will come to you whisking his tail as sportily as 
 if he did not know he had a long day's journey be- 
 fore him. 
 
 The dew on the grass has given him drink, or 
 moisture as well as food, and he is in good shape to 
 make it to the first watercourse. 
 
 This is a day and a night — but it was of the 
 night I sought to tell. 
 
 As you lie there looking up at the stars there 
 seems to be a holy hush, and I defy any old plains- 
 man to say that he has laid down in the middle of 
 that vast green universe under that big, starry bowl 
 that he did not think of God, and of the great power 
 
176 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 and kindness, and protection of the ruler whose 
 name is God. 
 
 I care not how wicked he may be, an outlaw if 
 you will, that spark of God in all mankind recog- 
 nizes its master and goes out to Him in the lonely 
 vastness of the broad prairie. He feels — 
 
 Alone with God. 
 
 This prelude I write to show what Will Cody ex- 
 perienced, not once, but many times, when on urgent 
 trips through the heart of the hostile Indian coun- 
 try, bearing dispatches from one army post to an- 
 other, often through territory where he dared not 
 build a fire by day or night, for the light is a guide 
 for hostile Indians by night and a pillar of smoke 
 by day invites the red man to lift your scalp. It is 
 lonesome enough in times of peace, when danger 
 does not threaten, but how much it draws upon a 
 man's bravery when he undertakes a trip of days 
 through a country where every rise of a hill may 
 disclose a horde of blood-thirsty redskins. Literally, 
 he took his scalp in his hand, he who made those 
 trips, and more than once this fearless scout has 
 saved the soldiers' women and children of the bor- 
 der army posts. What this government owes to 
 Buffalo Bill may never be written, or paid. 
 
 And these "forlorn hope" trips were taken, not 
 by a soldier, who acted under orders, but by a man 
 who volunteered. Medals he has been given, it is 
 true, by congress. Letters of commendation galore, 
 he has had from generals of the army, but I am 
 free to acknowledge, right here and now, I have 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 177 
 
 never seen the time when I valued my auburn locks 
 so cheaply as to undertake any one of the many 
 trips made by Buffalo Bill through hostile Indian 
 country in the interests of civilization. 
 
 I have since seen him in his great show surrounded 
 by his army of people and admired him, but never 
 has my heart welled up into my throat as it did 
 when I watched him disappear over the rise on a 
 mission from which I felt he would never return. 
 
 Verily, he was alone with God. 
 
 Thirtieth cc Pow-Wow" 
 
 A PERILOUS TRIP 
 
 I WONDER if there yet lives some of the party 
 of settlers of that frontier post, who were so near 
 an Indian massacre. I mean those who were doomed 
 by the hordes of Indians to torture and death, to 
 rapine and robbery. 
 
 Word of the uprising was given by a friendly 
 Indian to Buffalo Bill, who had just come to the 
 post after a long and tiresome ride. He told it to 
 the commanding officer, who at once sought means 
 of relief, and called for volunteers to carry dis- 
 patches to another post with orders to move at once 
 and save the little camp of settlers. Though there 
 were soldiers and scouts in the fort, not one cared 
 to encounter what all knew would be certain death. 
 
 Cody had been in the saddle twenty-four hours, 
 and his horse was dead beat out and Buffalo Bill 
 
178 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 himself did not look as if he could travel another 
 mile. 
 
 "General," said he, "if you can't find anyone else, 
 I will go if you will furnish me a good, fresh horse." 
 
 "Billy," said the officer, "I think you've done your 
 share, and I don't believe you could stand the ride, 
 but if you feel equal to it and are willing to under- 
 take the task, the best horse in the stables is at your 
 command." 
 
 Food and coffee were provided, and Billy fell to 
 and ate with an appetite sharpened by fasting and 
 the crisp, invigorating air of the western prairies. 
 
 He went to the stables and, looking over the 
 horses, selected one which he felt he could trust. 
 Equipped with an extra amount of ammunition and 
 firearms, and light but substantial food, dried buf- 
 falo meat and a slice or two of bacon, he started on 
 his errand of life saving. 
 
 The way led him over the trackless prairies, and 
 as a bird flies, he took his ride across the billowy sea 
 of waving grass, to the southwest, his only guide the 
 stars, and his native instinct, if it can so be termed. 
 
 Miles away he could see the signal fires of the 
 various camps of Indians, and he well knew that if 
 before the daylight gave the Indians a sight of him. 
 before the daylight gave the Indians a sight of him. 
 
 His horse was well chosen. He was all that Cody 
 counted he would be. His gait was a long swinging 
 lope, changing now and then to a rangy canter, but 
 losing no time, as he widened the gap between the 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 179 
 
 Indians and him, and drew closer to the soldiers 
 whom he sought. 
 
 Not once in the whole night did he encounter a 
 person, red or white, and it was not until early dawn 
 as he took the rise of a hill that he was seen by the 
 Indians. Just before him and in the direct line of 
 his trail, a mile away, stood an Indian lookout 
 mounted on a splendid specimen of horseflesh, and 
 as the two stood thus and from hill to hill surveyed 
 each other they might have been taken for eques- 
 trian statues, so still were they and motionless. 
 
 Just a look. His rifle was unslung, the cinch of 
 his saddle made more secure, his pack load thrown 
 to the ground and all made as light for his noble 
 animal as possible. Slowly he rode* down the hill 
 until out of sight of the sentinel, and then giving 
 rein to his well trained prairie horse, skirted the hill,, 
 and at a mad gallop far faster than had been asked 
 of the horse he took up his race with death. On 
 sped the noble animal. Not a sound of broken 
 wind ; not a single misstep ; not a sign of grief. The 
 horse was a thorough western animal. He knew 
 what was expected of him, and as he spurned the 
 turf of the prairie, the rein loose on the saddle, he 
 picked his own way. No rein needed he, no spur, 
 no urging. He was really Buffalo Bill in horseflesh. 
 His rider sat with ease in the saddle, and from time 
 to time half turned, looking for the red devils which 
 he knew must be in pursuit. He did not look in 
 vain, for close within range a party of swift riding 
 braves were crossing the now rolling prairie to inter- 
 
180 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 cept him. He watched closely till he had a good 
 sight on the foremost, who was fully a hundred 
 yards ahead of the others, and pulled the trigger, 
 killing the horse and throwing the redskin to the 
 ground. Not a step did the faithful horse lose nor 
 once did he falter. Raising himself in the stirrups, 
 Cody loaded and sent another ball from his old "Lu- 
 cretia," as he called his rifle. This disconcerted his 
 followers as another horse dropped, and Cody gained 
 time. He rode into the post just at daybreak, and 
 gave the alarm. 
 
 The cavalry were out in a twinkling, for those bor- 
 der soldiers slept ready for instant fight. The troops 
 rode to the little settlement, and after a short, but 
 decisive battle, put the Indians to flight, leaving sev- 
 eral dead and wounded on the field, evidence of the 
 markmanship of those western fighters. Thus Buf- 
 falo Bill was talked of by all plainsmen, and finally 
 it got to the ears of the authorities at Washington. 
 As a result, Buffalo Bill was presented with an 
 elegant medal voted by congress for his heroic deed. 
 
 The little post was saved. Men, women and chil- 
 dren of that border post owe their lives to a scout 
 who rode for a day and two nights, had taken part 
 in the fight and had pretty well earned a square 
 meal and a good sound sleep. 
 
 This feat of horsemanship and endurance was the 
 wonder of the townspeople, and demonstrated brav- 
 ery, endurance, and determination. 
 
 At this post, too, were a couple of Englishmen 
 who were over here to view the boundless west, 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 181 
 
 and years afterwards, when Buffalo Bill was in 
 England with his great show, one of these men, 
 the late Lord Harcourt, came to him and in the 
 gathering of the nobility personally thanked him 
 for his brave work, and told the story to his friends 
 as they were gathered around him. 
 
 It was this recognition which led England's be- 
 loved Queen Victoria to personally express her 
 thanks to Buffalo Bill, for saving a member of the 
 royal family. 
 
 A friend of mine who witnessed this episode 
 wrote me: 
 
 "I felt proud to see my own countryman a king 
 among kings, and towering head and shoulders above 
 royalty — a man and an American." 
 
 Thirty- first re Pow-Wow" 
 
 BUFFALO HUNT WITH ROYALTY 
 
 I HAVE written in a previous chapter of the 
 Duke Alexis' spurs, and how they came into 
 my possession as souvenirs, and now I will give you 
 a chapter of that royal hunt, copying in full a letter 
 written by me for the Leavenworth Times January 
 13, 1872. Of course, as you read on you will see 
 that this was written before the hunt proper, but 
 the anticipation proved true almost to the letter. 
 
 But here it is: 
 
 North Platte, Neb., Jan. 13, 1872. —Young 
 Alexis, the Grand Duke of Russia, is now happy 
 
182 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 out here on the almost boundless plains of the West. 
 He is far away from the gaping citizens and the 
 gaze of the inquisitive dignitaries. For several days 
 he will enjoy this pleasant seclusion and indulge in 
 the unrestrained sport of hunting and slaying the 
 noble buffalo in untold numbers. There are no phi- 
 lanthropic Berghs here to molest him or make him 
 afraid, and he is neither taunted nor alarmed with 
 terrors or threats of prosecution. 
 
 In company with the suite, the Duke arrived here 
 on his special train at six o'clock this morning, ac- 
 companied by General Sheridan and staff who took 
 a run up as far as Omaha yesterday to meet the 
 Imperial party. The time from three o'clock yes- 
 terday afternoon until this morning was spent on 
 the rail between here and the eastern terminus of 
 the Union Pacific, but, with the genial and festive 
 Phil Sheridan aboard, the moments were not dull. 
 
 A most superb banquet was prepared on the train, 
 and the representatives of the Imperial navy and 
 the United States army had a lively and agreeable 
 time of it as the Pullman cars were hurled across 
 the plains. 
 
 It was long after midnight before the company 
 sought rest in the luxurious sleeping coaches, but 
 they arose, nevertheless, bright and early this morn- 
 ing, each and every one anxious for the journey 
 to the hunting ground which Sheridan selected. The 
 three or four hundred inhabitants who form the 
 settlement were all out in the gray twilight of morn- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 183 
 
 ing to see and welcome the Imperial visitor. The 
 reception, however, was unlike those which the peo- 
 ple of the East or Central West had awarded. 
 There was no crowding, no cheers, no excitement, 
 but a sort of reverential curiosity* 
 
 As the Duke alighted from the train, the rustic 
 natives of North Platte stood in line along the plat- 
 form and almost as involuntarily as simultaneously 
 removed their hats in honor of the distinguished 
 visitor. "Little Phil" was master of ceremonies and 
 he was bound that not a moment should be lost in 
 starting for the camp fifty miles distant. 
 
 He had arranged with genial and daring "Buf- 
 falo Bill" to be on hand and act as guide and the 
 renowned scout was promptly on hand in all his 
 elements. He was seated on a spanking charger 
 and with his long hair and spangled buckskin suit, 
 he appeared as the feared and beloved by all for 
 miles around. White men and barbarous Indians 
 are alike moved by his presence and none of them 
 dare to do aught a word or deed contrary to the 
 rules of law or civilization. After the ducal party 
 had alighted, General Sheridan beckoned the no- 
 torious Bill to approach. He advanced carelessly, 
 yet respectfully. "Your Highness," said the Gen- 
 eral, "this is Mr. Cody, otherwise and universally 
 known as 'Buffalo Bill.' 'Bill, this is the Grand 
 Duke." "I am glad to see you," said the hero of 
 the plains, "you have come out here, so the Gen- 
 eral tells me, to shoot some buffalo." "Yes," an- 
 swered Alexis, "and I hope to have a fine time. I 
 
184 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 have heard of you before, and I am glad to meet 
 you here." "Thank you," said Bill, with a smile 
 as honest and sweet as that of a lovesick maiden. 
 "If the weather holds good, we'll have one of the 
 finest hunts that there ever was on this continent." 
 
 At this moment, Dr. Coudin, of the Duke's suite, 
 stepped up to Bill and mentioned a word or two 
 about his rig-out. "Do you always dress this way?" 
 asked the doctor. "No, sir, not much. I got this 
 suit particularly for this occasion. When Sheridan 
 told me the Duke was coming, I thought I would 
 throw myself in these clothes. I only put this rig 
 on this morning, and half the people in the settle- 
 ment are accusing me of putting on airs." Then 
 Bill laughed heartily, as did the doctor, the Duke 
 and the whole Imperial crowd. 
 
 A wholesome and substantial breakfast had been 
 partaken of on the train and there was nothing 
 now to be done but bundle into the ambulance wag- 
 ons and start out for the camping grounds. There 
 were a half dozen ambulances and a single baggage 
 wagon provided for the party and their baggage. 
 General Sheridan, the genial and energetic Thomp- 
 son, the transportation master, and the accommo- 
 dating Buffalo Bill superintended the loading and 
 departure. The Duke and General Sheridan were 
 provided with a vehicle a trifle superior to the ordi- 
 nary ambulance and it was drawn by four very 
 nobby steeds, while the other conveyances were pro- 
 pelled by mule power. Besides the Duke and his 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 185 
 
 suite and General Sheridan, there were several offi- 
 cers of the General's staff, consisting of Lieut.-Col. 
 James N. Forsythe, Lieut. S. A. Forsythe, Col. M. 
 Sheridan, Assistant Surgeon M. V. Ash, Major 
 Sweitzer, Col. Palmer of the second cavalry, Gen- 
 eral Custer of the seventh and Lieut. Hayes of the 
 fifth cavalry. 
 
 The military gentlemen were mixed up in agree- 
 able numbers with the Russian visitors in the sev- 
 eral ambulances and, as they passed through the 
 country the former entertained them with some 
 thrilling reminiscences of their life and encounter 
 on the plains. The supple and attentive Bill was 
 in the saddle in advance of all and, on either side 
 of the ducal vehicle, were a half dozen mounted 
 cavalry officers. At exactly quarter past eight, Gen- 
 eral Sheridan gave the word to move and Buffalo 
 Bill advanced in a galloping lead, closely followed 
 by the Duke's and other conveyances. The weather 
 at the moment of departure was far from promising ; 
 the air seemed to be full of snow and every element 
 indicated one of the storms for which the vast plains 
 are noted. All felt it possible and probable that a 
 storm would burst upon them, but not a man dared 
 utter a word of fear and thus they left the rail- 
 road station for the fifty-mile ride into the interior 
 of the country. Before they were an hour on the 
 road, the flakes began falling in abundance and all 
 anticipation of a few days' sport were mingled with 
 despair. The Deity smiled in approving humor, 
 for in a few short moments the murkv clouds broke 
 
186 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 away and the snowflakes restrained themselves, and 
 in an instant, as if by magic or legerdemain, the 
 orb of day shone out in all its brilliancy. The 
 effulgence was not temporary, but lasted all day 
 long, and many grateful hearts expressed thanks 
 for the happy combination that goes to make up the 
 weather. 
 
 A couple of miles from North Platte station, the 
 tourists and hunters were met by a company of the 
 second cavalry which acted as escort to the hunting 
 ground, under command of Gen. Palmer, com- 
 mander of the forces of Omaha. No delay was per- 
 mitted here — simply a salute of honor — and the 
 journey was resumed. Red Willow Creek, the 
 camping ground and general rendezvous was reached 
 after about eight hours' ride. There were no inci- 
 dents of any moment along the route. A few stray 
 buffalo were seen and his Imperial Highness brought 
 down and wounded a few of them. A few Sioux 
 Indians were met, but they were full of joy and 
 enthusiasm, and the Duke kindly acknowledged 
 their demonstrations. 
 
 Upon arrival at camp, everything was found in 
 the most comfortable order and General Sheridan 
 at once assigned the several guests to their various 
 tents and apartments. The quarters of the Duke 
 and General Sheridan and their friends consisted 
 of two hospital and two wall tents. Those of the 
 guests and host are elegantly carpeted and the oth- 
 ers are furnished with a degree of comfort and ele- 
 gance rarely found out here on the wild plains of 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 187 
 
 Nebraska. For the attendants of the Ducal party 
 and the military escort, there are some thirty or 
 forty superior wall tents. The arrangements of the 
 camp in brief are complete, not to say luxurious, 
 when the bleak season and the remote and wild sec- 
 tion of the country are considered. 
 
 Beside the cavalry escort, there are two mounted 
 companies here to guard the Imperial tourist and 
 sportsman from the wrath and revenge of the nu- 
 merous Sioux Indians who abound. The chances 
 are, however, that the Reds will unite in rendering 
 the Duke's visit one of pleasure, rather than one of 
 harm or fear. Sheridan and Buffalo Bill have per- 
 suaded them to such a course, and furthermore, to 
 procure their good behavior, the General has brought 
 out twenty wagon loads of provisions and supplies 
 which he has promised to distribute impartially 
 among the red men at the end of the hunt, if they 
 restrain themselves. 
 
 This, perhaps, may be considered a questionable 
 way to secure a foreign guest from scalping or mur- 
 der while in the United States, but when it is known 
 that the Indians are armed and outnumber the 
 soldiers ten to one, it will be admitted that Sheri- 
 dan's "Tickle me and I'll tickle you" policy is the 
 only safe one to pursue. 
 
 Tomorrow, the Sabbath, will be duly respected, 
 but on Monday, if there are no accidents, the sport 
 will begin. The Sioux Indians from miles and miles 
 around are expected to assemble to meet the Duke 
 in the morning. Old Spotted Tail, the chief, is 
 
188 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 already on hand. Also the minor chiefs, known as 
 Two Strikes, Cut Leg, White Bear, White Leg, 
 and about 1,300 of the tribe will be present. The 
 day will then be taken up by what is known as a 
 grand roundup of the buffalo, which will consist of 
 the surrounding of a vast tract of country by the 
 1,300 warriors and a gradual closing in of the game. 
 
 The Ducal party will, of course, take a lively part 
 in this. On Tuesday, Alexis, Phil Sheridan and 
 their friends will have a hunt on their own ac- 
 count, aided, of course, by Spotted Tail and Buffalo 
 Bill, and on Wednesday there will be a high old 
 Indian pow-wow and war dance in which 2,000 or 
 more Sioux will participate. Thursday will, in all 
 probability, end the sport and the closing festivities 
 will be very interesting. First, the best of the In- 
 dians will gobble what buffalo they can in their 
 native way in the presence of the Russian Duke. 
 After all this is over, and if there has been no overt 
 act and no Russian scalps are missing, the twenty 
 wagon loads of provisions will be faithfully dis- 
 tributed and the Duke will be escorted to the Pull- 
 man hotel train on the Union Pacific road. 
 
^fcV'*-^ z 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Thirty-second "Pow-Wow" 
 
 DOWN TO BRASS TACKS 
 
 1SAID at the beginning of these sketches that I 
 would pay no attention to dates or figures. That, 
 I thought, was a safe proposition, for I am so poor 
 with figures that I actually don't know a good fig- 
 ure when I see one, be it man, woman, or figure of 
 speech. To acknowledge to you on the quiet, I 
 juggle figures so badly that Mr. Smith, my banker, 
 has to telephone to me for red ink to balance my 
 account, and I guess it's blushing for me even as 
 I pen these lines. 
 
 But to get down to figures, just a few facts in 
 paragraphs to even up the errors in age and date 
 of several of the foregoing sketches, which were 
 printed as fast as written: 
 
 In his eleventh year, Billy Cody was on the plains 
 scouting and herding for Russell, Majors and Wad- 
 dell, and the train was captured, and the wagons 
 burned by the notorious Lot Smith, the Mormon 
 Danite chief, one hundred miles east of Salt Lake, 
 and Billy, with others who escaped the massacre, 
 footed it back to Leavenworth, making a trip of 
 
 189 
 
190 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 over 1,000 miles. "This hike," says the Colonel, 
 "broke me of walking." But of this, more fur- 
 ther on. 
 
 And again, before he was 19, he was riding pony- 
 express, that great opening of mail communication 
 across the vast plains, and still before that, when 
 but 16 years old, he was wagon master in charge of 
 one of those long trains of prairie schooners. 
 
 In his nineteenth year, he was made Chief of 
 Scouts of the U. S. and guide by General Sherman, 
 who recognized in the boy the mettle and courage 
 of a western plainsman. 
 
 Had I kept on at this rate, I would have had 
 Col. Cody in the Methusela class, or helping George 
 Washington cut down the cherry tree. Confound 
 these figures anyhow. But at that, in those days 
 a whole lot of excitement could be crowded into a 
 short space of time. As I look back upon it through 
 the haze of half a century, things merge one into 
 another, and while I recall names and places long 
 forgotten, I cannot always confine events to their 
 proper time. It is just as I told you in the be- 
 ginning, I shall not be accurate as to dates, but the 
 various sketches are true to the letter. 
 
 Right here, before I forget it, I want to say that 
 the worst massacres of the plains were incited by 
 outlaw white men, far lower in the scale of human 
 degradation than the Indians whom they used as 
 tools. Cody one time made the remark that civ- 
 ilization would have been greatly facilitated had the 
 
THE WORLDS GREATEST SCOUT 191 
 
 white outlaws been captured and shot wherever 
 found. Cody knew the Indian, and with all his 
 trying experience with the red man, I do not believe 
 there is a white man who walks the earth today who 
 has a greater respect for our red brother than Buf- 
 falo Bill. On the other hand, I don't believe there 
 ever rode the plains a single man whom the In- 
 dians feared and respected as they did this long- 
 haired avenger of blood or dispenser of mercy. His 
 word was good with the red man. He never lied 
 to them or deceived them. They well knew that if 
 he swung his rifle to his shoulder an Indian was 
 going to bite the dust. He was a dead shot, and 
 never pulled his gun until he was within range. He 
 knew his gun and knew his sight. 
 
 Buffalo Bill was a constant menace to the white 
 outlaws, and they were constantly looking for an 
 opportunity to kill him. He was in their way. 
 
 But I started this chapter to talk about figures, 
 and I have done so, and have rambled away, touch- 
 ing lightly on several subjects, each of which would 
 make a book. 
 
 So I'll start again in my rambling way regardless 
 of dates until, mayhap, I get myself into another 
 tangle. 
 
 Thirty-third "Pow-Wow" 
 
 THE PIPE OF PEACE 
 
 FEW and far between are the genuine peace 
 pipes. Many today are sold as souvenirs by un- 
 scrupulous Indian traders, but they are the handi- 
 
192 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 work of the white man. If all the alleged peace 
 pipes in the curio market today, or bought by igno- 
 rant souvenir collectors, were genuine, they would 
 represent the death of many a human being, red 
 or white. 
 
 A genuine peace pipe must have a history — a 
 pre-natal history. Before it was fashioned into a 
 pipe of peace, it must have been in part an instru- 
 ment of war — of death. The long, harmless look- 
 ing hickory stem must have at one time been a bow 
 in the hands of an Indian brave, and of the tribe 
 for which the peace pipe is designed. It must have 
 sent a death-dealing arrow to the heart of an enemy. 
 
 The bow thus honored is placed into the hands 
 of an Indian girl — unmarried, and preferably the 
 daughter of a chief. To her is intrusted the honor 
 (for it is so regarded) of making the tribal peace 
 pipe. The hickory is burned through from end to 
 end for the stem. This is a delicate and slow 
 process. 
 
 The bow is cut to the proper length and polished 
 — not with sand paper, but by scraping and buffing 
 with buffalo hide until it is smooth as agate. 
 
 The bowl is deftly moulded and hewn from pipe 
 clay, found in the hills and water courses of the 
 mountains. It is brought to a high polish by con- 
 stant rubbing with buffalo skin. All is hand work, 
 and the work only of the chieftain's unmarried 
 daughter. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 193 
 
 The tobacco bag is made of buffalo skin tanned 
 by the Indian maiden, the buffalo having been killed 
 by a buck of the tribe. The artistic bead work is 
 done by the same Indian girl. 
 
 It is profusely decorated with beads fashioned in 
 the pattern best known to that particular tribe. The 
 tribal Peace Pipe is one of the most valuable treas- 
 ures of the Indian. It represents the honor and 
 esteem of his tribe and woven into its manufacture 
 it tells the love of his daughter or the loyalty and 
 esteem of an Indian maiden. It is the type of 
 friendship. Its language is the death of enemies 
 and the survival of friends. The bestowal of a 
 Peace Pipe means a pledge of friendship, and rarely 
 during the life of a chief does the Peace Pipe change 
 hands. It means much. 
 
 Many years ago, a Peace Pipe changed hands 
 and perhaps this is the only time in history where 
 an Indian has given it to a white man. 
 
 As I write these lines I am smoking that his- 
 torical pipe. I am all alone, but as I follow the 
 convolutions of smoke, I see fashioned faces of long 
 ago. I see the wigwams of the red men, as they 
 dot the prairie. I see herds of their ponies grazing 
 here and there in bunches, far, far beyond where 
 prairie and sky meet. I see a bounding herd of 
 buffalo, bound for a water course, around me the 
 soft wind billows the tall prairie grass, and chants 
 the vesper song to the Great Spirit. Here again 
 is the face of Mi-lo-Ka-ha, the daughter of the chief, 
 
194 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 her long raven locks reaching far below her beaded 
 belt, caught back by a thong or band of deer skin 
 beaded and colored with the crimson juice of the 
 red plant known to us as Indian paint. The smoke 
 wreath forms other shapes and out of the cloud 
 looks down on me the face of my friend, "Pahaska." 
 Yes, in these wreaths of smoke — dream smoke, I 
 find my friend, Buffalo Bill. 
 
 It is the spirit of the gift. It is the procession 
 of those who have had to do with this Pipe of Peace. 
 Now the smoke wreaths are joined; they form an- 
 other face — a body — a stalwart chief, though aged 
 as we count years; lithe, straight, sinewy, but with 
 a kindly face. I note the smile of the great Red 
 Cloud, the friend of Buffalo Bill. 
 
 I have told before what the transfer of a Peace 
 Pipe means. It is to his best friend, the great 
 chieftain gave this pipe, and to "Pahaska," Buffalo 
 Bill, it was given — a lasting treaty of peace be- 
 tween the two. The grand old chief did not live 
 long after, but it was his satisfaction to have re- 
 membered his white friend and ally before he passed 
 to the happy hunting ground and the death song 
 was chanted by his tribe. 
 
 How did I get it? 
 
 Listen. 
 
 At 10 o'clock, August 4, 1911, when Buffalo Bill 
 was in Clinton with his great show on his farewell 
 tour, he came to my office and sat at my desk just 
 where I am sitting as I write this. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 195 
 
 His eye was as clear and piercing as in the 
 halcyon days of yore when we were boy pards, his 
 hand as steady as when he pulled the trigger for 
 a shot which told. 
 
 "Pard," said he, "we're getting pretty well along 
 in years. We have lived in times when history was 
 made. Where the boys of the West rode at will 
 on their ponies, big farms and wire fences have 
 found place, and the long dreary cattle trails to the 
 setting sun have given way to the bands of steel 
 and the iron horses. Well, pard, we have the sat- 
 isfaction that we were there first. But we're getting 
 old — we must soon cross the great divide. 
 
 "You know the meaning of the Peace Pipe. You 
 know how much it indicates when given to a friend. 
 You realize its full meaning? Of course you do. 
 
 "We have been 'pards' for over a half century 
 and we have never lessened our friendship. It is 
 as warm today as then. Time or distance has not 
 dimmed it. And now, pard," said he, as he unrolled 
 a paper, "let's be Indians." 
 
 And he handed me the Peace Pipe and tobacco 
 pouch. 
 
 Time may use me roughly. I may even be hun- 
 gry, but so long as I live I will retain that memento 
 of my friend, which, in the language and legend of 
 our red brother, means so much. 
 
196 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Thirty -fourth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 A REAL INDIAN FIGHT 
 
 IN my stories of western history, I have frequently 
 referred to the massacre at Julesburg, but have 
 never yet given my memories of that disastrous 
 battle. 
 
 We often hear people in describing disasters of 
 this kind, paint themselves as heroes and with a 
 bravado, born only of imagination, say that they 
 were entirely unafraid. 
 
 I believe they are all liars. 
 
 We were camped a few miles out of Julesburg. 
 There were exactly 156 men, counting the soldier 
 escort, in our train. When we looked to the north 
 of us and saw the flames of burning buildings and 
 heard the rattle of guns, we knew the Cheyennes 
 were on the warpath. Hastily every man mounted 
 the first horse or mule that was handy, and flew to 
 the relief of the citizens of Julesburg. 
 
 Through common consent, W. F. Cody (Buffalo 
 Bill) was our leader. He rode a wheel mule with 
 no saddle and only a blind bridle. I rode another, 
 equipped in the same manner. 
 
 I have said above, in this article, that all men 
 were liars, or were afraid when entering a battle. 
 I have never heard Buffalo Bill brag of his bravery, 
 but I have seen him in action, and I believe that 
 he was born without the attribute of fear, the same 
 as a man is born with a club foot. Be that as it 
 may, I could not at the time discover a tremor of 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 197 
 
 fear in Cody, while I was so badly frightened that 
 I could not even say, "Now I lay me down to 
 sleep." We rode on the dead run to Julesburg, and 
 there we encountered the Indians in the midst of 
 their massacre. 
 
 The mode of Indian fighting is to ride in a circle 
 around their victims, drawing closer, ever closer, and 
 firing as they rode. 
 
 We attacked this circle from the outside and 
 turned firing our way, but, before we reached them 
 their work was nearly done and many white men, 
 women, and children lay where they had fallen, 
 pierced by an arrow or a bullet. The fatalities, 
 most of them, were produced by the arrows, as the 
 Indians at that time were better shots with the bow 
 than with the rifle. 
 
 It was tough fighting for about half an hour, and 
 we lost two of our number, who were buried at 
 Julesburg, together with the many citizens of the 
 town, who had paid the penalty of pioneering. 
 
 There were thirty-five Indians killed out of a 
 possible two hundred engaged in the fray. 
 
 Our train, which was an emigrant train, composed 
 of families, did not move for two days, but pulled 
 up into Julesburg. The men and women of the 
 train assisted in burying the dead and caring for 
 the wounded. 
 
 The soldiers of our escort followed the Indians 
 and dropped four of them before they gave up the 
 chase. 
 
198 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Thirty -fifth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 WALT SINCLAIR 
 
 SPEAKING of the massacre at Julesburg, the 
 face of that brave, and I am tempted to say, 
 reckless Indian fighter, Walt Sinclair, appears be- 
 fore me. Now Walt was not fortunate enough to 
 get in the limelight, but he, like many another plains- 
 man, was instrumental in helping the march of civ- 
 ilization westward. Walt was five years older than 
 I. He was born at Leavenworth, Kansas, in the 
 days of the struggle between the free state men and 
 the pro-slavery men. Kansas at that time was a 
 territory just knocking at the doors of the gov- 
 ernment for admission as a state. Walt was brought 
 up, as were all western boys at that time, to the 
 use of firearms, and every boy "toted a gun." Those 
 were the days of the little brass barreled single 
 shot pistols and the old Allen pepper box of five 
 barrels — the great grandfather of the present au- 
 tomatic pistol and the machine gun. Walt became 
 a crack shot, above the average, and in many feats 
 of firearms he excelled us all. He could hit nearer 
 the center than either Wild Bill or Buffalo Bill, 
 though both were dead shots. I, myself, have sat 
 on a fence and held an apple in my hand while 
 Buffalo Bill and Walt Sinclair would ride by, draw 
 their revolvers and shoot through the apple and I 
 never was wounded or even felt the effects of the 
 ball as it cored the apple. Those were the days 
 of reckless childhood. Believe me, I would not do 
 it today. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 199 
 
 An incident in the life of Walt Sinclair would 
 not come amiss at this time. There was a gang of 
 outlaws headed by Weston Red from Weston, Mis- 
 souri, who would frequently come across the river to 
 Leavenworth to shoot up the town. The fame of 
 Walt Sinclair as a crack shot, and a quick shot, had 
 gone abroad, and one time a gang of four went into 
 Paul Dexter's saloon and were busy shooting the 
 fixtures off the back bar, when Walt Sinclair 
 stepped in and captured them all without drawing 
 a gun. They knew he could pull and shoot quicker 
 than they could, and that an extra move on their 
 part spelled their death warrant. He made them 
 lay their guns on the bar and marched them up to 
 the market house, which was also the jail and de- 
 livered them over to Matt Malone, the one police- 
 man of the town. 
 
 Walt led a charmed life, for although he killed 
 many outlaws and Indians, I have never heard that 
 he got a scratch. 
 
 In the battle of Wounded Knee, those who saw 
 Walt Sinclair in action, place to his credit from 
 five to a dozen dead Indians, and Colonel Boggs 
 tells me that he doesn't know how Walt got away 
 with his life. 
 
 Digressing somewhat, and going back to the days 
 of the Civil War, Walt Sinclair, unaided and alone, 
 drove the outpost of Mosby's guerrillas at Carthage, 
 Missouri, into the camp of the principal body. Walt, 
 seeing what was before him, turned tail and gal- 
 
200 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 loped into Carthage where the Union troops were 
 camped. As we discovered afterwards, when a com- 
 pany of soldiers guided by Walt, went over the 
 ground, he had killed two of the rebels and press- 
 ing on further, we found that the entire guerrilla 
 company had broke camp and vanished. Darkness 
 coming on, and the brush and timber being so thick, 
 we did not deem it safe to follow them up, so turned 
 back to Carthage. 
 
 Walt Sinclair died somewhere in Arkansas about 
 a year after the death of Buffalo Bill in Denver. 
 Where he is buried or whether his brothers, George 
 and Lon, are still alive, I do not know, but if they 
 are and this catches their eye, they will write to me 
 pronto. 
 
---«^*3aLS^£aJ»^-JSfe 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Thirty-sixth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 AN INDIAN ROMANCE 
 
 "f 1 ^ELL us a story, Uncle Dan," said Frances, 
 A a little miss of ten or eleven years, as she, 
 with two other girls were looking for their bed- 
 time story. 
 
 Well, as you are girls, I will give you as near as 
 I can remember the love story of Stolen- Arrow 
 and Yellow-Flower. Both were members of the 
 Sac tribe, and each, in their Indian way, loved the 
 other. Indians, as a rule, do not make as much 
 display as the lovers of today, and while they are 
 recognized as lovers, there is a quietness and secrecy 
 about it all which is respected by the members of 
 the tribe. Long walks they would take together, 
 the squaw always a step or two in the rear. If 
 they were taking any bundles or lunch with them, 
 the squaw carried the load, showing the main thing 
 of Indian lovers, service to her master. The buck 
 or male Indians never did any work and carried 
 only their bow and arrows. 
 
 The females or squaws did all the work, such as 
 setting up the tepees, gathering the firewood or 
 Buffalo chips, making fires and cooking the victuals. 
 
 201 
 
202 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 This romance, however, had not all to do with 
 slavery on the part of Yellow-Flower. On the con- 
 trary, the pair would take long rides in their canoe 
 on the swift running, but shallow, Kaw river. 
 
 How many love words passed between the couple, 
 I have no means of knowing, but in some way I am 
 convinced they told their love while floating on the 
 bosom of the Kaw. 
 
 Pure bred Indian girls, as a rule, are not good 
 looking, but Yellow-Flower, as I recall her, was 
 in looks far above the average of Indian maidens, 
 and when she smiled on Stolen- Arrow she spoke 
 volumes and, as her face lighted up, Stolen- Arrow 
 was sure of his conquest. 
 
 Long before they were married she made his ar- 
 rows, his beautifully beaded moccasins, and the 
 quiver wherein he carried his arrows. He not being 
 a chief, nor she the daughter of a chief, it was not 
 her right or privilege to make a peace pipe or to- 
 bacco bag which goes with it. She did make him, 
 however, of feathers and beads, as handsome a war 
 bonnet as I ever saw, and tanned for him many 
 beautiful buffalo robes. 
 
 The parents of each, who were just ordinary 
 members of the tribe, were not averse to the union 
 of these two young people. Their love story seemed 
 to run smooth until the arrival on the scene of a 
 Fox Indian named Johnny Marsh. No, he was 
 not a villain, but a would-be rival for the hand of 
 Yellow-Flower. He had many more horses which 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 203 
 
 were the Indian coin of the realm, than had Stol en- 
 Arrow, but that seemed to make no difference with 
 the Indian girl. The men, former friends, seemed 
 to drop away from each other, and as jealousy is a 
 part of the Indian makeup, as of all human nature, 
 this coolness developed into enmity and on two oc- 
 casions at least, the men clashed. Once they were 
 separated before any damage had been done, and 
 another time with scalping, or hunting knives, they 
 cut each other pretty badly before they were sepa- 
 rated. This promised to be a fight to the death, 
 but they were parted before any serious injury had 
 been done. 
 
 Stolen- Arrow was taken care of in the tepee of 
 the girl's parents and nursed back to normalcy by 
 the girl herself, though his parents and he, himself, 
 had tepees in the camp. Soon after he got around, 
 he brought his three horses to the tent of her par- 
 ents and they were accepted as a wedding present. 
 The marriage was solemnized by Father Carey, a 
 Catholic priest from the Osage mission, south of 
 Leavenworth, Kansas. 
 
 Shortly after this marriage, the two tribes, Sac 
 and Fox, were consolidated, going under the name 
 as they are to this day, the "Sac and Fox" tribe. 
 
 The rivals again became friends and about a year 
 afterwards Johnny Marsh married a Sioux girl, a 
 sister of Long-Bow, who afterwards became Chief 
 Red-Cloud. 
 
204 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Stolen- Arrow had two children, the last I heard 
 of him, but whether boys or girls, I do not know. 
 
 Now, Frances, here is an Indian love story. You 
 can put in all the extra words you want and make 
 a real copper-colored romance of it. I am sure that 
 neither Yellow-Flower nor Stolen- Arrow would ob- 
 ject, because both are now in the happy hunting 
 ground. 
 
 Thirty-seventh cc Pow-Wow" 
 
 COLONEL BOGGS 
 
 THE subject of this sketch is the last one, but 
 the writer of this, of the old Cody bunch of 
 sharpshooters, Indian fighters, scouts and guides of 
 the plains, to answer the last call. 
 
 At the time of Buffalo Bill's death, there were 
 twelve of us on top of ground. Thus, the passing 
 of Colonel Boggs at Mattoon, 111., leaves the writer 
 alone, so far as the scouts are concerned. In point 
 of years, Colonel Boggs was the oldest and the 
 writer hereof the youngest of the bunch, Colonel 
 Boggs being five years older, and Dan Winget, five 
 years younger than Buffalo Bill. 
 
 I have many times seen Colonel Boggs in action 
 and never yet have seen him show the white feather. 
 
 One night in particular I remember, the Chey- 
 ennes made a running fight on our camp. It was 
 an overnight stop of an emigrant train consisting 
 of families bound for Pike's Peak. At about three 
 o'clock in the morning, twenty-three Cheyennes and 
 a half-breed Mexican attacked us and undertook to 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 205 
 
 stampede our animals. Colonel Boggs was riding 
 night herd, and before we had a chance to get into 
 action, he had killed three Cheyennes and a half- 
 breed Mexican. He was a dead shot and a quick 
 shot. He could draw and shoot quicker than any 
 man I ever knew, except Wild Bill Hickok, and he, 
 it was often said, had the bullet coming while he 
 drew his gun. 
 
 On this occasion, the only one I ever knew, 
 Colonel Boggs was wounded by two arrows and a 
 bullet, none of which laid him up, even temporarily, 
 all being harmless flesh wounds. The bullet went 
 through the fleshy part of his upper left arm and 
 the arrows closely followed the bullet, the three 
 wounds being between the elbow and the shoulder 
 of the left arm. The arrows were broken just above 
 the feathered barb, and pulled through, thus elim- 
 inating any poison which might be in the feather 
 end of the arrow. I am not sure that Colonel Boggs 
 had these arrows when he died, but Henry Brown, 
 who pulled them out, gave them to him. 
 
 The Indians, seeing the damage done by one man, 
 withdrew before any of the rest of us had a chance 
 to shoot. When I say withdrew, I do not mean 
 that they withdrew in good order, but they turned 
 tail and galloped away into the darkness. 
 
 There was not much sleeping after that, and it 
 is safe to say that we got an early start for the 
 next day's journey. 
 
206 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 The next day we started bright and early and 
 the rising sun shone upon our train in motion. That 
 was one time we had to go slow, for in the train 
 there were several ox teams. At noon that day we 
 saw signs of Indians, and Buck Taylor, Lon Sin- 
 clair and Buffalo Bill started forward on horseback 
 to pick up the trail. It was fresh, and according to 
 Cody, the Indian party numbered about fifty or 
 sixty. While going over the trail to the north of 
 us, we lost track of the three scouts and did not see 
 them again until that evening, when we had made 
 our corral on the banks of the Cottonwood and 
 many camp fires were burning, cooking jack rabbits 
 and buffalo steak. 
 
 Buck Taylor brought in a war bonnet which 
 showed that he had got at least one Indian, but, as 
 there was no bleeding scalp on it, it is fair to pre- 
 sume that he didn't kill the Indian or killing him, 
 he failed to take his scalp. The war bonnet, with 
 four dry scalps attached, was given to Miss Sadie 
 McPherson, a daughter of one of the families of 
 the train. Miss McPherson, as I recall it, was at- 
 tached to one of the families from Zanesville, Ohio. 
 
 We had no more trouble with the Indians, or 
 other mishaps, save that one day we were short on 
 rations of water, arriving at a stream at about nine 
 o'clock that night. 
 
 Have you ever been thirsty and without means 
 of quenching your thirst for nearly twenty-four 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 207 
 
 hours? If so, you will know how good the water 
 in that running stream looked and tasted to us. 
 
 The oxen were the most frantic, and their drivers 
 nearly lost control of them as we neared the water 
 line. A few days more put us in Denver, and there 
 we separated, some of the scouts guiding trains to 
 the north, others still to the Pike's Peak region. 
 
 That was the last time I ever saw Colonel Boggs, 
 though we have frequently exchanged letters. I 
 last heard from him at Mattoon, 111., when he invited 
 me to go on one more big hunt with him, in the foot- 
 hills of the Rocky Mountains, going by way of 
 Cody, Wyoming, and being guided by Cody Boal, 
 Buffalo Bill's grandson, and a replica of the old 
 scout in his palmy days. This letter I answered 
 last year, but it came back from Mattoon marked 
 "deceased." 
 
 By this I know that I am the last of the old 
 scouts. 
 
 Thirty-eighth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 NO, she was not an Indian, she was a wandering 
 white woman, abused and driven from her home 
 by her Mexican half-breed husband. I first met 
 her when she came to a camp of Sac and Fox tribe, 
 where I was spending a few days. Both her eyes 
 were black from the beating her husband had given 
 her, great welts lay across her arms and back, the 
 marks of a black snake whip, in the hands of her 
 
208 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 drunken husband. She was not a college bred 
 woman, nor yet up to the grade of typical pioneer 
 women of the wild west. She was a woman, how- 
 ever, and came into camp carrying her bundles, all 
 she had on her back, and walking. She gave the 
 women of the tribe to understand her plight, and 
 further that she was going to cast her lot with the 
 tribe. Curiosity had drawn quite a crowd of bucks 
 and squaws and finally one good-natured, fat, 
 squabby squaw took her in as part of her family. 
 
 Frances was the only name we ever knew her by, 
 and it chanced to be my fortune to meet her several 
 times within two years. 
 
 This is but a prelude to the story of an Indian 
 girl, the only one I ever knew whose name was 
 Frances. 
 
 It is the custom in naming an Indian baby for 
 the mother to select for the name of the new born 
 child the object which first appears to her eyes. 
 In this case the mother saw the white woman 
 Frances, who was with her when the child was 
 born. In her hands she carried a yellow rose. The 
 mother then gave the name of her baby as "Frances- 
 Yellow-Hose." 
 
 I met the tribe many years after on a govern- 
 ment reservation. Many of them I knew, but the 
 younger ones of the tribe had grown beyond my 
 recollection. I inquired for Frances, but they told 
 me she had long since been dead. The old squaw, 
 however, called a young girl, I should judge about 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 209 
 
 11 or 12 years old, and in presenting her said: 
 "This is Frances you knew so well." 
 
 I became pretty well acquainted with the little 
 Indian maiden during the five days I remained in 
 camp with them on their reservation. That was the 
 last visit I paid to my friends of the Sac and Fox 
 tribe. Though I may have a story to tell later on 
 of how my friend Buffalo Bill and I ate yellow 
 dog soup with the Sac and Fox cooked by the 
 mother of little Frances- Yellow-Rose. 
 
 I will say before leaving the subject of Frances- 
 Yellow-Rose that for a long time I had in my 
 possession a pair of buffalo skin moccasins made by 
 this Indian child, Frances- Yellow-Rose. They were 
 far too small for me so I passed them on to May 
 Cody, youngest sister of Buffalo Bill, who at this 
 writing had joined her brother across the Great 
 Divide. 
 
 This skit of memory is being brought back to me 
 by another little Frances, who visited me when I 
 thought that it was time for me to cross the Divide. 
 
 Thirty -ninth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 DOG SOUP 
 
 I GUESS I had better put the story of Dog Soup 
 on paper, while I am able to remember it and jot 
 it down. 
 
 You know that the Indians deemed a meal of 
 dog a choice article of food. Though, to the aver- 
 
210 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 age white man it does not appeal, neither do rats 
 which the Chinamen like so well. 
 
 We were in camp with the Sac and Fox long 
 before they were on a reservation, and after a big 
 day's hunt, which netted us two buffalo, three 
 prairie wolves and several jack rabbits, we were 
 hungry enough to eat horse shoe nails. A frugal 
 supper was prepared and we all sat down to it 
 around the camp fire. The flour bread was made 
 by the squaws in what is now known as a dutch 
 oven. Where they got it, Lord only knows, prob- 
 ably from the moving train of some unfortunate 
 emigrant, but more likely they paid three prices 
 for it from some Indian agent. 
 
 The soup was made by the old mother squaw, 
 the mother of Frances- Yellow-Rose, and we went 
 to it with avidity for, by heck, we were hungry. 
 We each took two cups full of the soup, and in the 
 absence of spoons, we drank it as you would water, 
 using our fingers to get out the generous hunks of 
 meat. I say "we," because I was not the only white 
 man or boy in the crowd. There was Billy Cody 
 before he acquired the name Buffalo Bill, Walt 
 Sinclair, Billy Slade, and myself. The supper was 
 put away in good shape, we lit our pipes and pro- 
 ceeded to enjoy ourselves beneath the star spangled 
 heaven. 
 
 Johnny- White-Horse, an older brother of Fran- 
 ces-Yellow-Rose, was induced by the men of the 
 tribe to bring out the skin of the "jack rabbit" 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 211 
 
 which we supposed we had eaten. My portion 
 stayed down all right, as did also that of Walt Sin- 
 clair, but Billy Slade and Billy Cody left the circle 
 and we could hear them calling "New York" as 
 they threw up their supper and all other meals 
 preceding it. I have always been fond of dogs, but 
 not as a food. The dog skin was offered to Cody, 
 but he refused it. 
 
 This is the only time to my knowledge that I 
 ever ate dog. 
 
 Fortieth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 BILL BUCKMASTER 
 
 BILL BUCKMASTER was not one of the Cody 
 gang of old scouts. He was just a school boy, 
 and with us made one trip during school vacation. 
 
 It was his last trip. 
 
 On this occasion we crossed the path of Black- 
 feet Indians on the war path. What they were 
 doing on that particular range, or what started 
 them, we never knew. 
 
 Bill and Walt Sinclair were away from the camp 
 that night. When Walt Sinclair came into camp, 
 we knew something was wrong, he coming alone. 
 It was about the middle of the night when he came 
 in, and he told us to prepare for a fight. He had 
 ridden long and fast, because his horse was tired 
 out and ready to drop. We got in shape to move 
 the train and we started out under a bright Sep- 
 tember moon. Our route lay along the same direc- 
 
212 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 tion traversed by Walt and Bill. After a slow jour- 
 ney of about ten miles we came across a dead and 
 scalped Indian. Along about two miles further we 
 came across another Indian, and in close proximity, 
 lay Bill Buckmaster dead and scalped. We stopped 
 to bury him where he lay. An end-gate with his 
 name cut in with a hunting knife, was the only 
 marker for his grave. 
 
 Further along we came across two Indians, dead 
 but not scalped, which shows that Bill Buckmaster, 
 the school boy, died a-fighting. 
 
 Attached to Bill's belt were two bleeding Indian 
 scalps and they were given to Colonel D. R. An- 
 thony, his guardian. That was his first and last 
 trip across the plains, in fact he never completed 
 the trip — never reached Denver. 
 
 Bill Buckmaster was a good boy at school, not 
 goody, goody, as the world terms it. He was not 
 given to bragging and the fight he made alone in 
 the prairie showed the metal he was made of. 
 
 He had become separated from his riding part- 
 ner, and at the time of the shooting they must have 
 been fully a mile apart. Walt rode to his aid, but 
 finding his dead body and no Indians in sight, took 
 the back trail for camp and gave the alarm which 
 started us on our early journey. 
 
 If this sketch reaches the eye of any old man 
 living now who saw the end-gate with Bill's name 
 on, will write to me, I will deem it a great favor. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 213 
 
 Bill Buckmaster at the time of his death was 
 twenty years and one day old. This I know be- 
 cause the day previous he said was his birthday. 
 
 Forty --fir st (C Pow-Wow" 
 
 ABBIE PERKINS 
 
 ABBIE PERKINS was no Indian fighter, but 
 l was a Leavenworth girl in times when western 
 history was being made. She was just a school girl 
 and our teacher was H. D. McCarty, who was many 
 years afterward state superintendent of public in- 
 struction with offices at Topeka, Kansas. 
 
 My main reason for introducing Abbie Perkins 
 in this, my memories of when the west . was young, 
 is that Abbie was Buffalo Bill's school day sweet- 
 heart. Here was a pair of kids who simply idolized 
 each other. When Billy Cody left school on his 
 first trip across the plains, it was Abbie who bade 
 him farewell under the Cottonwood tree which 
 towered above the bridge at Three-Mile Creek, and 
 it was she who welcomed him home many months 
 later as her boy hero. Again he was called to the 
 plains and before leaving, he called at her house to 
 bid her good-bye. Those were the days before the 
 pony express, and mail correspondence was often 
 delayed through the irregularity of stage service, 
 but at that letters came to Fort Leavenworth ad- 
 dressed to Abbie Perkins, in care of the writer of 
 this. We had no means of replying to those let- 
 ters because we did not know where to find Billy, 
 
214 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 as he was on a scouting expedition for the govern- 
 ment, here today and away tomorrow. Abbie, how- 
 ever, did not know of these conditions, so she gave 
 me her letters to mail to Billy. I had the satisfac- 
 tion of handing him, on his return from this par- 
 ticular trip, four letters. I told Will how it hap- 
 pened that I had all these letters, and it was agreed 
 between he and I that I should keep all letters 
 addressed to him in my care until he could com- 
 municate with me or return from his trips. This 
 I did, but there was no trip as long as the first 
 one, and the two young lovers met oftener. 
 
 Cody was a boy of the plains, his family in 
 humble circumstances, though respected by all. 
 Abbie Perkins was the daughter of H. J. Perkins, 
 proprietor of the Planters' Hotel, of Leavenworth, 
 Kansas. 
 
 I shall never forget Billy's return from one trip 
 he made as guide to a wagon train of immigrants. 
 He had piloted them safely to Denver, with only 
 an occasional brush with the Indians, no lives or 
 stock lost. The return trip was made in company 
 of a detachment of soldiers sent out to guard the 
 train. It was during this trip that Abbie Perkins 
 took sick, died and was buried on the top of Pilot 
 Knob, then the cemetery of Leavenworth, Kansas. 
 It fell to me to break the news to Billy and hand 
 to him three letters, the last that Abbie ever wrote. 
 The following day, Billy and I climbed the hill 
 and visited Abbie's grave on Pilot Knob. On this 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 215 
 
 occasion, Billy Cody broke down and wept as a 
 child, and in sympathy with my Pard, I am not 
 ashamed to say that I joined him. Many times 
 thereafter we together visited the grave of Abbie 
 Perkins, Buffalo Bill's first sweetheart. 
 
 Forty-second ff Pow-Wow JJ 
 
 JOHN JESTUS 
 
 JOHN JESTUS was a school boy, in the early 
 days at Leavenworth, Kansas. He was of our 
 school boy crowd and I am going to name them so 
 far as I can to show the path of life taken by boys 
 in later years. 
 
 There was in our crowd, Henry Brown, who 
 afterwards became a plainsman; Dick Humphrey, 
 who later on became governor of Kansas; Charley 
 Mitchell, whom I met some years ago, a Methodist 
 Bishop ; Ed. House, who the last I knew of him was 
 running a livery stable in Leavenworth, Kansas, and 
 John Jestus, the subject of this sketch together with 
 Ed. Hughes, became river gamblers, plying on the 
 steamers, Hesperian and War Eagle, when those 
 boats ran from St. Louis to St. Joe on the Mis- 
 souri River. 
 
 One time, while the steamer Hesperian was tied 
 up at the bank at Lexington, Missouri, John Jestus 
 got into a quarrel over a game of cards and shot and 
 killed Colonel W. F. Burns of St. Joe, Missouri. 
 He was at once taken off the boat, and, on the levy 
 at Lexington was hanged for the murder. 
 
216 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 John, as I knew him, was a good boy, never 
 using profanity and was in fact, as we looked at it 
 then, the pet of our school teacher, Miss Van Evra. 
 But then, you know, kids will go astray. 
 
 Forty -third cf Pow~Wow JJ 
 
 MAY CODY 
 
 ACTING under the instructions of her brother, 
 u Buffalo Bill, May Cody, his youngest sister, 
 is, I believe, the first woman to kill a buffalo. 
 
 Together the pair rode into the herd, May 
 mounted on Buffalo Bill's buffalo horse, Brigham, 
 and he on a broncho belonging to the train. 
 
 This was a government train and was the occa- 
 sion when General Sheridan with his wife and a 
 company of ladies and gentlemen from the states, 
 accompanied the train on a pleasure tour. 
 
 When you hear a man talk of killing a buffalo by 
 shooting him between the eyes, you can put him 
 down as a liar, and you can put whatever profane 
 word which you choose in front of the word liar. 
 The proper and only way to kill a buffalo is to ride 
 up along side and put one or two bullets in the 
 animal just behind the left fore leg, and then turn 
 away as quick as the Lord will let you for the buf- 
 falo will follow, and the average buffalo pony knows 
 it. So it is just as well to keep your seat firmly in 
 anticipation of this quick turn by your mount. 
 
 May Cody accompanied by her brother followed 
 instructions and landed her first buffalo. 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 217 
 
 Later in the day, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, 
 another small herd was discovered, and May alone 
 tackled it. This time she brought down a yearling 
 calf with a single bullet, and the carcass was loaded 
 into a wagon, and at supper, under a cottonwood 
 tree, by the side of a stream, we had May's buffalo 
 calf well roasted by Johnny Hines, the cook of the 
 outfit. 
 
 Both the buffaloes were skinned and the robes 
 and heads presented to May. The robes were after- 
 wards tanned and the heads were mounted and sold 
 to the Union Pacific Railway, one of which was 
 placed over the entrance to the ticket office of the 
 Union Pacific in Omaha. 
 
 This year (1926), May Cody has crossed the 
 great divide, the last, but one, of the Cody family. 
 The older sister, Julia Cody Goodman, lives in Los 
 Angeles, and, we hear, is superintending a moving 
 picture to be known as the "Life of Buffalo Bill." 
 
 I never have known or heard tell of a woman who 
 has ever killed a buffalo, and it is but just, in this 
 sugar coated history to credit Buffalo Bill's sister 
 May as the only woman buffalo hunter ever known 
 to the western plains. 
 
 Forty-fourth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 SURE SHOTS 
 
 WALT. SINCLAIR, another of the gang and 
 probably the most close in friendship to Cody 
 and me, was built along the same lines as Buffalo 
 
218 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Bill, and I do not suppose there was half an inch 
 difference in their height. Walt, was a splendid shot 
 with a revolver, and we all used revolvers in those 
 days, though many of us had in addition to our brace 
 of revolvers a carbine or rifle that hung to our 
 saddles. To show that I bear a charmed life, I will 
 cite an instance of the sharp shooting of both Cody 
 and Sinclair. Many times I have sat on a rail fence, 
 and held an apple in my hand while Cody and Sin- 
 clair would ride by on horse back, and shoot through 
 the apple. I never got a scratch. But in my sober, 
 saner moments, and feeling as I do now, I would 
 not repeat it. These two were not alone in feats of 
 marksmanship, for there were others on the plains 
 who could do the same, provided they could find 
 another darn fool to hold the apple. 
 
 While we are on the subject of marksmanship, I 
 will call your attention to another feat which though 
 not so hazardous was indulged in by many of the 
 boys. On Shawnee street, in Leavenworth, Kan- 
 sas, was the paint shop of Scott & Brother. This 
 was on the north side of the street between Third 
 and Fourth streets. Scott & Brother also dealt in 
 window glass, and we would assemble there in the 
 afternoon, and suspend one of these panes of glass 
 between two posts, back of which, across the alley 
 was a bank of dirt caused by grading the alley 
 through the hill. This bank formed a safe back- 
 ground, and we would shoot through the pane of 
 glass, and then put the remaining bullets through 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 219 
 
 the hole we first made. Many of the boys became 
 adepts in this game, and it was nothing for us to 
 shoot from three to five bullets through a pane of 
 glass before breaking it. 
 
 Forty -fifth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 A WINE SUPPER 
 
 MANY years afterward at the World's Fair in 
 Chicago, I attended a dinner given by Buffalo 
 Bill to Carter Harrison in honor of the Infanta 
 Eulalia of Spain, At that dinner the conversation 
 veered around to sharp shooting and Buffalo Bill laid 
 a wager with Carter Harrison (this was the senior 
 Carter Harrison) that his friend, pointing to me, 
 would shoot a hole through a pane of glass, and 
 empty the revolver through the same hole. The 
 wager was for a wine supper for those seated at the 
 table. 
 
 I got the shivers instantly for it was twenty-five 
 years since I had fired a pistol, and over thirty 
 years since I had had in my hand an old time navy 
 revolver. I demurred, telling Cody how long it had 
 been since I fired a shot, but he told me shooting 
 was just like swimming, and if you could shoot 
 once, you could shoot always. I saw at once where 
 Cody was going to pay for the wine supper, and 
 made no further objections. 
 
 The shooting took place directly after dinner, and 
 a large pane of glass was suspended in a gate way 
 
220 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 back of the Wild West arena. With fear, and 
 trembling, I marched out, surrounded by the entire 
 dinner party. Cody handed me his pistol, a white 
 handled navy revolver with instructions to shoot as 
 I always had done. I took the pistol, and with the 
 ordinary drop shot that we had always made, 
 put a hole through the glass, rapidly following the 
 first shot with all the loads in the revolver. I was 
 surprised at myself, and my friend, who was visit- 
 ing with me (it was either Calvin H. George, or 
 John Ward of this city, I do not recall which one) 
 was also amazed at my marksmanship. Mr. Harrison 
 called the dinner party for the next evening at the 
 Auditorium Hotel, and after the dinner was over, 
 Cody recalled a former episode wherein Mr. Harri- 
 son had played an expensive joke on Buffalo Bill. 
 Cody reminded him of it and his promise to get even 
 with Mr. Harrison some time in the future. 
 
 Harrison could not see the joke and neither 
 could I, until Cody told us that all of the chambers 
 in the revolver save the first were loaded with blank 
 cartridges and added, "The chance I took was, that 
 Dan would hit the glass with the first shot." I did 
 not feel quite so important after this revelation, and 
 Mr. Harrison took the joke good naturedly. 
 
 We had never heard of Mr. Volstead then, and I 
 do not know when we went to bed, but as we see in 
 the comic strip, "Them days are gone forever." 
 
' Vs $s^^; 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Forty -sixth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 AN INDIAN HANGING 
 
 I CHANCED to be staying with a tribe of Creek 
 Indians. They had captured an Indian of the 
 Dog Indian tribe. He had murdered a Creek squaw, 
 and the Creek Indians in emulation of the white 
 man, were going to hang him. How they tried him, 
 or who was the judge and jury, I do, not know, but 
 the hanging day had arrived and Indians from sev- 
 eral tribes were gathering at the hanging place. 
 
 I may say here to those who do not know what a 
 Dog Indian is, that they are the off-scourings of all 
 tribes on the plains, the Indian underworld if you 
 please. These are they who, having been banished 
 from their tribes, banded themselves together and 
 were known by all tribes of the plains as Dog 
 Indians. For a long time they occupied a portion 
 of the pan handle of Texas, and it was known as 
 No Man's Land. 
 
 After this short digression, I will conclude my 
 story of an Indian hanging. 
 
 My companion on this occasion was W. F. Cody, 
 and it was at this time that he began to be known 
 
 221 
 
222 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 as one of the two Buffalo Bills. This was before he 
 and Billy Comstock, another buffalo hunter, had the 
 contest to determine who should wear the name 
 Buffalo Bill. 
 
 Arriving at the hanging place, we saw that the 
 Indians in charge of the ceremony had bent down a 
 good sized sapling, trimmed up the fork and tied 
 the Dog Indian into the fork, the limbs on either 
 side of his neck and he standing on the ground. The 
 sapling was secured in its bended position by a 
 buffalo skin lariat and at a signal from the Creek 
 chief, this was cut with an ax, literally jerking the 
 victim off the earth instead of dropping him as the 
 old fashioned gallows of the white man did. This 
 hanging I had in mind when years afterwards I 
 wrote a heading for the Chicago Times "Jerked to 
 Jesus." 
 
 Forty-seventh "Pow-Wow" 
 
 JERKED TO JESUS 
 
 MY opportunity to write this was as follows: 
 Kindred spirits, J. Whitcomb Riley, Opie 
 Reid, Eugene Field, Will Visscher, and myself were 
 enjoying life at the old Chicago Press Club, such as 
 was possible only in pre- Volstead days. Will Viss- 
 cher was night telegraph editor on Wilbur F. 
 Storey's old Chicago Times and we knew that after 
 our celebration, Visch was not in condition to handle 
 a night shift alone. With one accord, however, we 
 divided up the work between us. All matter com- 
 
DAN WINGET 
 
 THE LAST OF THE OLD SCOUTS 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 223 
 
 ing under the head of "Crimes and Casualties" fell 
 to my share, and a dispatch from Texas telling of 
 the hanging of a murderer suggested the heading 
 "Jerked to Jesus," having in mind the hanging of 
 the Indian years before. 
 
 Our night work was done and the dawn was not 
 far off. Each made a bed of exchanges and curled 
 down to sleep in the editorial room. 
 
 Late in the day we were awakened by the appear- 
 ance of Mr. Storey who had the finest vocabulary of 
 profanity that it has been my good fortune to 
 meet, save possibly Horace Greeley of the New York 
 Tribune. After he had said all he could, and in a 
 manner in which only he could say it, we presented 
 our side of the story, Eugene Field and Opie Reid 
 acting as lawyers for the defense. So eloquent were 
 they that Will Visscher retained his job, and I be- 
 fore being hired, was fired. 
 
 Forty -eighth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 WHY WAS I LEFT? 
 
 MANY years ago in my Sunday school days in 
 Leavenworth, Kansas, when that city was on 
 the border of western civilization, I got a book as a 
 prize from my Sunday school teacher, Dr. Parkes, 
 for memorizing a certain number of verses in the 
 testament. The title of the book was the same as 
 the heading of this article; I have it yet in my 
 library. 
 
224 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 But this is only a prelude to the story, or pipe 
 dream, in which I am now indulging. 
 
 When Buffalo Bill died there were twelve of 
 the old gang left. By the word gang as used here, 
 I do not mean that we were gangsters in the modern 
 sense of the word. The men of whom I speak and 
 the gang referred to were one and all good, clean, 
 western men — men who dared to bare their bosoms 
 in breaking the way for civilization; men who were 
 acquainted with the plains and the bands of roving 
 Indians, who sought, and justly too, to impede the 
 westward march of civilization. 
 
 I say, "justly too," in the above paragraph, be- 
 cause the Indian of the plains felt that the white 
 man was driving him from his home, shooting his 
 buffalo, and by force of numbers driving him west- 
 ward, ever westward. 
 
 The saying is very common that, "only a good 
 Indian, is a dead Indian." 
 
 My personal observation is just to the contrary. 
 You or I would fight for our homes. So did the 
 Indians. But I digress. At the head of this article 
 I ask the question, "Why Was I Left?" There is 
 a saying often repeated, "The good die young." 
 What a terrible double dyed villian I must be. Gone 
 are all the scouts, guides, and Indian fighters, of 
 a way back then. The last time the entire bunch of 
 Buffalo Bill's band of scouts met together was 
 after the massacre at Julesburg. There were four- 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 225 
 
 teen of us then. Two were killed with Indian 
 arrows and rifle balls. 
 
 I referred to the massacre at Julesburg in a for- 
 mer article, but at present it all comes back to me. 
 The circling horde of Indians, the relentless murder 
 of men, women, and children, by the Indians crazed 
 with drink and led by that notorious half-breed out- 
 law, Mexican Tom. I look again into the faces of 
 Ed. House and Billy Buckmaster, who we ten- 
 derly laid away for their last sleep. Mexican Tom, 
 the outlaw, paid the penalty for his many raids and 
 his evil influence over the Indians at Julesburg. 
 Who buried him, or, if he ever was buried, I do not 
 know. 
 
 This massacre at Julesburg as it comes to me 
 through memory, was the one time on the plains 
 when, I will acknowledge, I was scared stiff. I shot 
 many rounds of cartridges, but I am not sure that 
 a single one took effect — I simply fired and loaded, 
 and to this day I do not know whether my mount 
 was a broncho or regular army mule. 
 
 With the passing of Colonel Boggs of Mattoon, 
 111., I find myself alone— the last of the old Cody 
 Scouts, which leads me to inquire, "Why was I 
 left?" 
 
 This is, in brief, the story of the massacre at 
 Julesburg as I remember it, and this is also the 
 story of another time that I was scared stiff. 
 
226 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Forty -ninth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD 
 
 SITTING here alone with my pipe, it dawns upon 
 me to ask a question using the words of the old 
 song, "Where are the Friends of My Youth?" 
 
 So far as I know, of the old bunch with whom I 
 associated in the west, when early history was in 
 the making, I alone remain. 
 
 At the time of the death of our leader, Buffalo 
 Bill, twelve of us were on earth. With the death 
 of Col. Boggs, two years ago, the last of the old 
 gang, but one, have taken up their last long sleep 
 beneath the turf, and I alone remain. 
 
 Each of the others had their good points as well 
 as some points not so good, but as I remember them, 
 good and bad, one and all, had the redeeming streak 
 of honor. A petty thief, or a man devoid of manly 
 principles, had no place in our crowd. True it is, 
 that not one of them went to rest without the blood 
 of his fellowman on his hands and without one or 
 more notches in his gun. These killings, one and 
 all of them, were in the interests of civilization, and 
 many of them saved a train of defenseless men. 
 women and children, when the west was young, and 
 these hardy pioneers were westward bound to take 
 up farms in the virgin west. 
 
 Most of the old gang were dead shots, and I take 
 off my hat to Bill Hickok as being the quickest 
 and most accurate shot I ever saw. I believe that 
 he led the crowd in the number of those, who 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 227 
 
 notched their guns for every man, white, Mexican, 
 or red, that he put to rest in the pioneer grave yard 
 of the west. When the west was young, it required 
 a man of iron nerve, quick to draw, and as quick 
 to shoot. For Wild Bill to draw his pistol, it 
 meant the death of some person, or persons, and 
 for this reason he was chosen as a frontier sheriff. 
 While acting in this capacity, he oftimes acted as 
 judge, jury, and executioner, and his greatest rec- 
 ord was the extermination of the McCanless gang, 
 and they, four in number, with six other horse 
 thieves constituted the gang, which he single handed, 
 and alone, put to their last long sleep. This gang 
 was one of the most feared on the western plains. 
 In the foot hills they had their stronghold, and it 
 was not an infrequent occurrence for overland 
 stages to be held up by them, and not infrequently 
 a murder was pulled off at the same time. I recall 
 at one time when Jim Curry, a saloon keeper, and 
 Ed. Estes, a scout, and guide, had an altercation in 
 Jim's saloon, both men drew at once, and fired, the 
 result was that they were both killed, and another 
 miscreant named Ed. Hudson, sought to pull Jim 
 Curry's diamond pin off his shirt, and, seeing Wild 
 Bill essayed to pull his gun. The result was that 
 three men were laid away at that particular funeral. 
 
 Wild Bill was afterwards shot in the back by a 
 man named McCall, who followed Wild Bill to the 
 grave within the week. Wild Bill is buried at Dead- 
 wood, S. D., and his sweetheart, Calamity Jane, 
 rests beneath a little mound close by. 
 
228 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Fiftieth "Pow-Wow" 
 
 A TRIBUTE 
 
 (To Rotarian Buffalo Bill.) 
 
 IN the death of Col. W. F. Cody, our club mourns 
 its first loss. Col. Cody was the first honorary 
 member, and though it has never been his pleasure 
 to meet with us at luncheon, his big heart has been 
 with us. 
 
 When advised of his election as honorary mem- 
 ber of the club, he did not stop to write, but wired 
 his thanks and the appreciation of the honor. As 
 the writer looks at the character of Buffalo Bill, 
 both as boy and man, in the home or in the 
 limelight of publicity, as a dreaded Indian fighter, 
 as the red man's friend, as a celebrity or as a mere 
 man, I say looking backward, looking at him as I 
 knew him, I feel that the true spirit of Rotary was 
 a large factor in his makeup. 
 
 Born without the attribute of fear, facing death 
 many times without a tremor, his heart was as ten- 
 der as a woman's. His hand was ever outstretched 
 in the cause of charity. His was the true spirit of 
 brotherhood of man. He recognized and helped the 
 poor down-and-out and put many an unfortunate 
 on his feet, and braced him up. 
 
 The glare of greatness or the patronage of royalty 
 did not spoil him nor was he ever above his friend 
 or brother in lowly overalls. He was too big a man 
 to snub poverty. On the contrary, he would go out 
 
THE WORLD'S GREATEST SCOUT 229 
 
 of his way to caress the lowly kidlet. His was a 
 big, broad nature, and he was made of the stuff 
 of which Rotary may be proud. As we lay him 
 away — our brother, our friend, our Rotarial com- 
 panion, we do so with a feeling that all is well across 
 the great divide. His life has been devoted in a 
 practical way to answering the command of the 
 Master, "Feed my lambs." 
 
 The first rays of the rising sun will shine upon 
 the resting place of our brother, and as the god of 
 day sinks to rest, its beams will linger upon the 
 spot, where mingled with the earth of the mountains 
 he loved so well, repose the remains of a man among 
 men, a brother and a friend. 
 
 Fifty-first "Pow-Wow" 
 
 WE LAY DOWN THE PEN 
 
 BOYS, I reluctantly lay down the pen on this 
 brief history, this hashed history. I feel that if 
 all our Boy Scouts read it thoroughly and between 
 the lines they will be the better for its perusal. I have 
 stuck close to facts, and though figures and dates 
 may be in a measure jumbled up, I have printed 
 the facts in the life of the original Boy Scout com- 
 mencing at the age of 9, up to and including the 
 years of his manhood. I have told without the gloss 
 of varnish the boyhood life of one of the greatest 
 pioneers in our country's history. I have covered 
 nothing and nothing has been uncovered which the 
 
230 ANECDOTES OF BUFFALO BILL 
 
 Last of the Great Scouts will not say "It is all 
 right." 
 
 We were boys, just boys, the same as you are. 
 Our tastes were the same. Our games were in keep- 
 ing with the red blood of youth, but our environ- 
 ments were different. Where you are surrounded 
 with walls of brick and stone, the boundless prairies 
 were our play grounds. Where you are barred by 
 the sections of streets and wards, our only menace 
 were the red men of the plains. 
 
 And yet, looking back, those red men were sus- 
 ceptible to kindness, and we had warm friends 
 among the various tribes. True, it is, that our gov- 
 ernment took by force their homes, their hunting 
 grounds, grieved, the same as you and I would feel 
 should some strong party seek to deprive us of our 
 homes. We would fight — so did they. 
 
 I am not about to write a labored essay upon the 
 wrongs of the Indian, but simply seeking for a 
 proper close of this sketch. 
 
 Buffalo Bill, my friend, I have known and loved 
 for half a hundred years. He has proven true. He 
 has been the entering wedge for the civilization of 
 America's Great West. He has made his mark, 
 and I shall, as I raise my hat in greeting, say Hail 
 and Farewell, America's Greatest American. 
 
 THE END 
 
University of 
 Connecticut 
 
 Libraries