BREAKING GLASS BALLS AT FULL SPEED.
Every custom, vocation, or study that has for its object the protection of home, self, or one’s just rights, the defense of the weak or the protection of the innocent, is justly denominated “manly,” and commands universal respect and admiration. If such attributes or qualifications as a steady nerve, a clear, penetrating gaze, and intensity and earnestness of purpose, are combined with quickness of action and courageous bearing, the admiration grows stronger and the respect deeper.
BREAKING GLASS BALLS AT FULL SPEED.
Years ago scarcely anybody save the professional duelist would ever have thought of making an accomplishment of rifle or pistol shooting, unless, like the enlisted soldier or the dweller on the prairies, a practical knowledge of fire-arms and their uses became an absolute necessity for self-protection or the performance of duty. Yet now so-called “fancy shooting” is considered rather a “fad,” and its aptest exponents are objects of laudation and applause. The huntsman is no longer a slayer of game and wild beasts as a means of subsistence for himself and family, or for sale to neighbors or in the public market. The elephant is now rarely killed for his tusks, the tiger for his skin, or the buffalo (what few there are left of this species) for his flesh. Now the “chase” is a mere sport, like “hunting the covers” in Merrie England, and men boast of their prowess as hunters much as they do of their skill at billiards. Yet an expert with the rifle or the pistol is an object of applause and admiration, and even the more courageous of the fair sex love to try their skill at a target. For a time the old pastime of archery was revived, but, whether its difficulties or its present-day impracticability was the cause, it has been abandoned by the fashionable world, and shooting-galleries are now the “thing” rather than archery clubs.
In the march of progress the club, the lance, the javelin, and the long-bow have been thrown aside, and modern invention has given us the cannon, the shotgun, the musket, the rifle, and the pistol. Some writers have even argued, and ably too, that the invention of gunpowder had a most powerful and active effect upon the civilization of the world.
However, the acts of aiming and discharging the projectile, and successfully striking the target, be it animate or inanimate, possess a rare fascination for the world at large. What boy has not enjoyed raptures of delight at the story of William Tell, and the fact of his having shot the apple from his son’s head has made a more lingering and lasting impression upon the readers of the story than his struggle to liberate his countrymen from the tyranny personified in Gessler; and you iconoclasts give mortal offense to the youth of the world when you dare assert that their hero of Switzerland is a myth. There is no story more interesting, told to the good little boy who regularly attends his Sunday-school, than that of David’s wonderful marksmanship when, by throwing a pebble from a sling, he struck the mighty Goliath and slew him. David’s after-history, his glories and his sacerdotal power, though ofttimes told the youthful Biblical scholar and repeated to him in sermons when he grows older, may have an effect, but still it is the incident of David’s meeting with the giant and his victory over him that most surely impresses him.
To learn the science of accurate shooting by constant practice in a gallery especially prepared for that purpose, the target being inanimate and incapable of retaliation, may, and often does, result in aptitude with the revolver and the rifle. To preserve this cleverness, however, the conditions must always be the same. The proper light must fall correctly upon the target; nothing to disturb the serenity of the surroundings or to distract the attention of the shooter must be permitted.
A grade higher comes the hunter. His targets are living, breathing objects. Sometimes he may stealthily approach, unobserved, and secure an aim while the object is at rest; again, the bird flies, the beast runs, and then his scientific calculation must be quick and accurate. But in both of these the disturbing element of probable, almost certain, retaliation is lacking. The excitement of rivalry or the enthusiasm, added to the uncertainty, of the chase may somewhat agitate the nerves of the shooter. His own safety is assured, however. How often do we read of a meeting on the miscalled “field of honor” of two men, both famous as pistol-gallery shots; men with whom to hit the “bull’s-eye” nine times out of ten shots is a common occurrence, yet who exchange leaden compliments that are as barren of results as would be the feeding of a hungry man on “angel food.” What is the cause of this? It is the actual, assured knowledge that in this instance the targets are equally animate, equally prepared thoroughly for retaliatory action, both equally anxious, and as capable of hitting the target the one as the other, and a sure consequence is that the nerves of both shooters are “like sweet bells, jangled, out of tune.”
The soldier whose lessons in the handling of fire-arms have been learned on many a hard-fought field has acquired a steadiness of nerve, a sort of reckless fearlessness, and, at times, even a contempt for danger which its constant presence has taught him. All honor to the soldiers who in steady column, shoulder to shoulder, or in dashing charge to the shrill cry of the bugle, have fearlessly breasted the scathing fire of the enemy’s guns. But in this case the inspiriting association of comrades, the encouraging sense of companionship, cheers them on, and they at least momentarily fail to really appreciate the thorough seriousness of their situation.
How different from all these pictures is that of the daring scout, the intrepid cowboy, the faithful guide, of the unsettled West. To either of these danger is so constant, so frequent in its visitations, that it has become an expected presence. An ear quick to detect a rustle of the leaves, a footfall on the turf, the click of the hammer of a rifle; an eye to instantaneously penetrate into the thickness of the brush; to detect, locate, and photograph a shifting speck on the horizon; to measure distance at a glance, and to fix the threatening target’s vulnerable point in an instant are absolute necessities. Added to these, as an absolute essential, must be nerves as tense as steel. A tremor of the arm, nay, the slightest quiver of a muscle, that sends the bullet a hair’s-breadth from the point aimed at, may cost not only the death of the shooter, but the lives of those depending on him for safety. No fancy shooting this; for more than life—honor and reputation, the preservation of sacred trusts and cherished lives committed to his care, depend upon his coolness, his courage, and his accuracy. In a moment all will be over for good or ill, and upon his single personality all depends. The stake is fearful.
These indubitable facts considered, is it surprising that these danger-baptized heroes of the West stand to-day as the most marvelous marksmen of the world?
The amateur sportsman, the society expert rifle-shot, the ambitious youth, and even woman, to whom all real manly exploits and true heroism are admirable, all take sincere pleasure in witnessing the feats of marksmanship of the cowboy, scout, or guide expert, and wonder at his marvelous accuracy. It is because actual necessity was the foundation upon which their expertness was built that these surpass all others in the science. What appears wonderful to others is in them but the perfection of art.
Looking at expert shooting as a pastime, a science, or a means of protection or self-preservation, the awakening of the manhood of the country and the up-growing youth to its possibilities is surely to be commended and encouraged. No man is more to be credited with the accomplishment of this than Gen. W. F. Cody. His romantic and picturesque history and his wonderful accomplishments have attracted to him the attention of America and Europe, and no one man is more capable of exemplifying the science of shooting than he. A graduate, with high honors, of the school where expert shooting is taught by the best practice and actual experience, he is master of his art. The object-lessons he gives are of incalculable benefit to the ambitious student of marksmanship, and sources of delight to all. His trusty rifle is now a social friend, whose intimacy is founded on dangers averted, heroic deeds accomplished, and honors nobly won.
A NOONDAY HALT ON THE PRAIRIE.
In the spring of 1868, at the outbreak of the violent Indian war, General Sheridan, from his headquarters at Hays City, dispatched Cody as guide and scout to Captain Parker at Fort Larned. Several bands of Comanches and Kiowas were in the vicinity, and Buffalo Bill, after guiding General Hazen and an escort of twenty men to Fort Sarah, thirty miles distant, started to return to Larned alone. At Pawnee Rock, about half-way, he found himself suddenly surrounded by about forty warriors. By professions of friendship and warm greeting of “How, how!” Bill saw he could alone depend on cunning and strategy to escape. Being taken before Santanta, who Bill knew was expecting, a short time before, a large herd of cattle which had been promised by General Hazen, he boldly complained to the wily chief of his treatment, and informed him that he had been ordered to find him and deliver “a big heap lot who-haws.” The cupidity of old Santanta enabled Bill to regain his arms. Although declining an escort, he was followed, much to his alarm, by a dozen well-mounted redskins. Keeping up “a heap of thinking,” Cody at last reached a depression that hid him from view, and succeeded, by putting the mule at his highest speed, in getting fully a mile in advance before the trailers discovered his object.
Upon seeing the fleeing scout, there were no further grounds for suspecting his motives; so the Indians, who were mounted on excellent ponies, dashed after him as though they were impelled by a promise of all the whisky and bacon in the big father’s commissary for his scalp. Bill was trying to save his hair, and the Indians were equally anxious to save it, so that the ride, prompted by these diametrically opposed motives, was as furious as Tam O’Shanter’s. After running over about three miles of ground, Bill turned his head, only to be horrified by the sight of his pursuers gaining rapidly on him. He now sank the spurs a little deeper into his mule, let out another inch of the reins, and succeeded in increasing the speed of his animal, which appeared to be sailing under a second wind.
It was thus the chase continued to Ash Grove, four miles from Fort Larned, at which point Bill was less than half a mile ahead of the Indians, who were trying to make line shots with him and his mule as a target. Reaching Pawnee Fork, he dashed into that stream, and as he gained the opposite shore, and was rounding a thick clump of trees, he was rejoiced to meet Denver Jim, a prominent scout, in company with a private soldier, driving a wagon toward the post.
A moment spent in explanation determined the three men upon an ambush. Accordingly the wagon was hastily driven into the woods, and posting themselves at an advantageous point they awaited the appearance of the red-skinned pursuers. “Look out!” said Bill; “here they come, right over my trail.” True enough, the twelve painted warriors rode swiftly around the clump of brush, and the next instant there was a discharge of shots from the ambush which sent two Indians sprawling on the ground, where they kicked out their miserable existence. The others saw the danger of their position, and making a big circle rode rapidly back toward their war-party.
When the three men reached Larned, Buffalo Bill and Denver Jim each displayed an Indian scalp as trophies of a successful ambush, and at the same time apprised Captain Parker of the hostile character of Santanta and his tribe.
On the following day about eight hundred warriors appeared before the fort, and threatened to storm it; but being met with a determined front they circled around the post several times, keeping the soldiers inside until their village could move off. Considerable fear was entertained at the fort, owing to the great number of hostile Indians who practically invested it, and it was determined by Captain Parker as of the utmost importance to send dispatches to General Sheridan, informing him of the situation. Fort Hays was sixty-five miles distant from Fort Larned, and, as the country was fairly swarming with the worst kind of “bad” Indians, Captain Parker tried in vain to find some one who would carry the dispatches, until the request was made to Buffalo Bill. This expedition was not within Bill’s line of duty, and presented dangers that would have caused the boldest man to hesitate; but finding all the couriers absolutely refusing to perform the necessary service, he agreed to deliver the message, provided that he could select the horse that he wanted to ride. Of course this requirement was readily assented to, and at 10 o’clock at night, during a terrible storm, the brave scout set out, knowing that he had to run a very gauntlet of hostiles, who would make many sacrifices if by so doing they could lift his coveted scalp.
The profound darkness of the night afforded him some security from surprise, but his fears of riding into an Indian camp were realized when he reached Walnut Creek. A barking dog was the first intimation of his position, but this was speedily followed by several Indians pursuing him, being directed by the sounds of his horse’s feet. By hard riding and good dodging, however, he eluded these, and meeting with no further mishap than being thrown over his horse’s head by reason of the animal suddenly stepping into a gopher-hole, he reached Fort Hays shortly after daylight, and delivered the dispatches he carried before General Sheridan had arisen from bed.
After delivering the message Bill went over to Hays City, where he was well acquainted, and after taking some refreshments lay down and slept for two hours. Thinking then that General Sheridan might want to ask him some questions regarding the condition of affairs at Larned, he returned to the fort and reported to him. He was somewhat astonished to find that General Sheridan was as anxious to send a messenger to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles distant, as Captain Parker had been to communicate with his superior officer at Fort Hays; and more surprised was he to find that of the numerous couriers and scouts at the fort not one could be induced to carry the general’s dispatch, though the sum of $500 was offered for the service. Seeing the quandary in which General Sheridan was placed, Bill addressed that official, and said:
“Well, General, I’ll go over to the hotel and take a little more rest, and if by 4 o’clock you have not secured some one to carry your dispatches, I will undertake to do it.”
The general replied: “I don’t like to ask so much of you, for I know you are tired; but the matter is of great importance and some one must perform the trip. I’ll give you a fresh horse, and the best at the fort, if you’ll undertake it.”
“All right, General; I’ll be ready at 4 o’clock,” replied Bill, and then he went over to the hotel; but meeting with many friends, and the “irrigating” being good, he obtained only the rest that gay companionship affords. At the appointed time Bill was ready, and receiving the dispatches at the hands of General Sheridan he mounted his horse and rode away to Fort Dodge. After his departure there was much debate among the scouts who bade him good-by respecting the probability of his getting through, for the Indians were thick along the whole route, and only a few days before had killed three couriers and several settlers. Bill continued his ride all night, meeting with no interruption, and by daylight next morning he had reached Saw-Log Crossing, on Pawnee Fork, which was seventy-five miles from Fort Hays. A company of colored cavalry, under Major Cox, was stationed here, and it being on the direct route to Fort Dodge, Bill carried a letter with him from General Sheridan requesting Major Cox to furnish him with a fresh horse upon his arrival there; this the major did; so after partaking of a good breakfast Bill took his remount and continued on to Dodge, which point he gained at 10 o’clock in the morning, making the ninety-five miles in just eighteen hours from the time of starting.
The commanding officer at Fort Dodge after receiving the dispatches remarked:
“I am very glad to see you, Cody, and I’ll tell you that the trip just made is one of the most fortunate I know of. It is almost a miracle how you got through without having your body filled as full of holes as a pepper-box. The Indians are swarming all around within fifty miles of here, and to leave camp voluntarily is almost equal to committing suicide. I have been wanting to send a message to Fort Larned for several days, but the trip is so dangerous that I can’t find any one who will risk it, and I wouldn’t blame the bravest man for refusing.”
“Well, Major, I think I might get through to Larned; in fact I want to go back there, and if you will furnish me with a good horse I’ll try to carry your message.”
“I don’t think it would be policy for you to make the trip now, especially since you have done so much hard riding already. Besides, the best mount I could give you would be a government mule.”
“All right, Major, I don’t want the best; second-best is good enough for me; so trot out your mule. I’ll take a little nap, and in the meantime have your hostler slick up the mule so that he can slide through with me like a greased thunderbolt should the reds jump on us.”
Bill then went off, and, after “liquidating” in true Western style, lay down in the major’s quarters, where he slept soundly until nearly 5 o’clock in the evening, when, having replenished his canteen, he mounted the patient mule and set out for Fort Larned, which was sixty-five miles east of Fort Dodge.
After proceeding as far as Coon Creek, which was nearly half-way, Bill dismounted for the purpose of getting a drink of water. While stooping down the mule got frightened at something and jerked loose; nor did the stupid animal stop, but followed the trail, keeping ahead of the weary and chagrined scout for thirty-five miles. Half a mile from the fort Bill got within rifle range of his exasperating steed and gave him a furlough to the eternal grazing-grounds.
After reaching Larned—carrying the bridle and saddle himself—Buffalo Bill spent several hours in refreshing sleep, and when he awakened he found General Hazen trying to induce some of the couriers to take his dispatches to General Sheridan at Fort Hays. Having been warmly and very justly praised for the long and perilous rides he had just completed, Bill again proffered his service to perform the trip. At first General Hazen refused to dispatch him on the mission, saying, “This is like riding a free horse to death; you have already ridden enough to kill an ordinary man, and I don’t think it would be treating you properly to permit you to make this additional journey.”
But when evening came and no other volunteer could be engaged, as a matter of last resort Bill was given a good horse and the dispatches intrusted to him for transmission. It was after nightfall when he started on this last trip, and by daylight the next morning he was in Fort Hays, where he delivered the dispatches. General Sheridan was profoundly astonished to see Bill before him again in so short a time, and after being informed of his wonderful riding during the three days the general pronounced it a feat that was never equaled; and even now General Sheridan maintains that no other man could accomplish the same distance under similar circumstances. To this day the rides here described stand on record as the most remarkable ever made. They aggregated three hundred and fifty-five miles in fifty-eight riding hours, or an average of more than six miles an hour, including an enforced walk of thirty-five miles. When it is considered that all this distance was made in the night-time, and through a country of hostile Indians, without a road to follow or a bridge to cross the streams, the feat appears too incredible for belief were it not for the most indisputable evidence, easily attainable, which makes disbelief impossible.
General Sheridan was so favorably impressed with the self-sacrificing spirit and marvelous endurance of Buffalo Bill, and being already acquainted with his reputation as a brave man, that he called the scout to his headquarters directly after receiving Major Hazen’s dispatches, and said:
“Cody, I have ordered the Fifth Cavalry to proceed against the Dog Soldier Indians, who are now terrorizing the Republican River district; and as the campaign will be a very important one, I want a first-class man to guide the expedition. I have therefore decided to appoint you guide, and also chief of scouts of the command.”
PLENTY HORSES, OGALALLA SIOUX BRAVE.
GENERAL W. T. SHERMAN.
The following letter was received with a photograph of the hero of “The March to the Sea,” Gen. W. T. Sherman:
New York, December 25, 1886.
To Col. William Cody:
With the best compliments of one who in 1886 was guided by him up the Republican, then occupied by the Cheyennes and Arapahoes as their ancestral hunting-grounds; now transformed into farms and cattle ranches, in better harmony with civilization, and with his best wishes that he succeed in his honorable efforts to represent the scenes of that day to a generation then unborn.
W. T. Sherman, General.
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL P. H. SHERIDAN.
Headquarters Army of the United States,
Washington, D. C., January 7, 1887.
Col. William F. Cody was a scout and served in my command on the Western frontier for many years. He was always ready for duty, and was a cool, brave man, with unimpeachable character. I take pleasure in commending him for the many services he has rendered to the army, whose respect he enjoys for his manly qualities.
P. H. Sheridan, Lieutenant-General.
BREVET-MAJOR-GENERAL JAMES B. FRY.
New York, December 28, 1886.
Col. William F. Cody.
Dear Sir: Recalling the many facts that came to me while I was adjutant-general of the Division of the Missouri under General Sheridan, bearing upon your efficiency, fidelity, and daring as a guide and scout over the country west of the Missouri River and east of the Rocky Mountains, I take pleasure in observing your success in depicting in the East the early life of the West.
Very truly yours,
James B. Fry,
Assistant Adjutant-General, Brevet-Major-General U. S. A.
MAJOR-GENERAL NELSON A. MILES.
Los Angeles, Cal., January 7, 1878.
Col. William F. Cody.
Dear Sir: Having visited your great exhibition in St. Louis and in New York City, I desire to congratulate you on the success of your enterprise. I was much interested in the various lifelike representations of Western scenery, as well as the fine exhibition of skilled marksmanship and magnificent horsemanship. You not only represent the many interesting features of frontier life, but also the difficulties and dangers that have been encountered by the adventurous and fearless pioneers of civilization. The wild Indian life as it was a few years ago will soon be a thing of the past, but you appear to have selected a good class of Indians to represent that race of people. I regard your exhibition as not only very interesting, but practically instructive. Your services on the frontier were exceedingly valuable. With best wishes for your success, believe me,
Very truly yours,
Nelson A. Miles,
Brigadier-General U. S. A.
BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE CROOK.
Omaha, Neb., January 7, 1887.
Hon. William F. Cody.
Dear Sir: I take great pleasure in testifying to the very efficient service rendered by you “as a scout” in the campaign against the Sioux Indians during the year 1876. Also that I have witnessed your Wild West exhibition. I consider it the most realistic performance of the kind I have ever seen.
Very sincerely, your obedient servant,
George Crook,
Brigadier-General U. S. A.
BREVET-MAJOR-GENERAL EUGENE A. CARR.
“HE IS KING OF THEM ALL.”
Headquarters Mounted Recruiting Service,
St. Louis, Mo., May 7, 1885.
Maj. John M. Burke.
Dear Sir: I take pleasure in saying that in an experience of about thirty years on the plains and in the mountains I have seen a great many guides, scouts, trailers, and hunters, and Buffalo Bill (W. F. Cody) is “king of them all.” He has been with me in seven Indian fights, and his services have been invaluable.
Very respectfully yours,
Eugene A. Carr,
Brevet-Major-General U. S. A.
MAJOR-GENERAL W. MERRITT.
United States Military Academy,
West Point, N. Y., January 11, 1887.
... I have known W. F. Cody (“Buffalo Bill”) for many years. He is a Western man of the best type, combining those qualities of enterprise, daring, good sense, and physical endurance which made him the superior of any scout I ever knew. He was cool and capable when surrounded by dangers, and his reports were always free from exaggeration. He is a gentleman in a better sense of the word which implies character, and he may be depended on under all circumstances. I wish him success.
W. Merritt,
Brevet-Major-General U. S. A.
Late Major-General Volunteers.
War Department, Adjutant-General’s Office,
Washington, August 10, 1886.
To whom it may concern:
Mr. William F. Cody was employed as chief of scouts under Generals Sheridan, Custer, Crook, Miles, Carr, and others in their campaigns against hostile Indians on our frontier, and as such rendered very valuable and distinguished service.
S. S. Drum, Adjutant-General.
MAJOR-GENERAL W. H. EMORY.
Washington, D. C., February 8, 1887.
Mr. Cody was chief guide and hunter to my command when I commanded the district of North Platte, and he performed all his duties with marked excellence.
W. H. Emory,
Major-General U. S. A.
COLONEL JAMES W. FORSYTH.
Headquarters Seventh Cavalry,
Fort Mead, D. T., February 14, 1887.
My Dear Sir: Your army career on the frontier, and your present enterprise of depicting scenes in the far West, are so enthusiastically approved and commended by the American people and the most prominent men of the United States Army, that there is nothing left for me to say. I feel sure your new departure will be a success.
With best wishes, I remain, yours truly,
Colonel Seventh Cavalry.
BRIGADIER-GENERAL H. C. BANKHEAD.
Jersey City, 405 Bergen Avenue, February 7, 1887.
Hon. Wm. F. Cody.
My Dear Sir: I fully, and with pleasure, indorse you as the veritable Buffalo Bill, United States scout, serving with the troops operating against hostile Indians, with whom you secured renown by your services as a scout and successful hunter. Your sojourn on the frontier at a time when it was a wild and sparsely settled section of the continent fully enables you to portray that in which you have personally participated—the pioneer, Indian fighter, and frontiersman. Wishing you every success, I remain,
Very respectfully yours, H. C. Bankhead,
Brigadier-General U. S. A.
COLONEL W. B. ROYALL.
Hotel Richmond,
Washington, D. C., January 9, 1887.
W. F. Cody (“Buffalo Bill”) was with me in the early days when I commanded a battalion of the Fifth Cavalry, operating against the hostile Sioux. He filled every position and met every emergency with so much bravery, competence, and intelligence as to command the general admiration and respect of the officers, and became chief of scouts of the department. All his successes have been conducted on the most honorable principles.
Colonel Fourth Cavalry U. S. A.
BREVET-BRIGADIER-GENERAL N. A. M. DUDLEY.
Headquarters First Cavalry,
Fort Custer, M. T.
I often recall your valuable services to the Government, as well as to myself, in years long gone by, especially during the Sioux difficulties, when you were attached to my command as chief of scouts. Your indomitable perseverance, incomprehensible instinct in discovering the trails of the Indians—particularly at night, no matter how dark or stormy—your physical powers of endurance in following the enemy until overtaken, and your unflinching courage, as exhibited on all occasions, won not only my own esteem and admiration, but that of the whole command. With my best wishes for your success, I remain, your old friend,
Colonel First Cavalry, Brevet-Brigadier-General U. S. A.
BREVET-MAJOR-GENERAL JNO. H. KING.
Tallahasse, Fla., January 12, 1887.
Hon. William F. Cody:
I take great pleasure in recommending you to the public as a man who has a high reputation in the army as a scout. No one has ever shown more bravery on the Western plains than yourself. I wish you success in your proposed visit to Great Britain.
Your obedient servant,
Jno. H. King,
Brevet-Major-General U. S. A.
STATE OF NEBRASKA.
To all whom these presents shall come, greeting:
Know ye, that I, John M. Thayer, governor of the State of Nebraska, reposing special trust and confidence in the integrity, patriotism, and ability of the Hon. William F. Cody, on behalf and in the name of the State do hereby appoint and commission him as aide-de-camp of my staff, with the rank of colonel, and do authorize and empower him to discharge the duties of said office according to law.
In testimony I have hereunto subscribed my name and caused to be affixed the great seal of the State.
Done at Lincoln this 8th day of March, A. D. 1887.
GRAND SEAL OF THE
STATE OF NEBRASKA,
MARCH 1, 1887.
John M. Thayer.
By the Governor:
G. L. Laur,
Secretary of State.
Having in the preceding pages given the scenes, conditions, surroundings, and types of characters that made up the theater of action in which Buffalo Bill bore so prominent a part, with the letters from gallant commanders stamping his career with the brand of truth, it is fitting to start my hero from the threshold of boyhood, and follow him through his most adventurous and phenomenal life up to the present day, where he stands unchallenged as the Chevalier Bayard of American bordermen.
Buffalo Bill made his debut upon the stage of life in a little log cabin situated in the backwoods of Scott County, Iowa. His father and mother were good honest people, poor in this world’s goods, but rich in hope, faith in each other and the result of their efforts, and confidence in the future.
While struggling for success as a farmer Isaac Cody became seriously affected by the California gold fever that raged at that time; a party was organized, an outfit provided, and a start was made. A failure resulted, and all comprising the party returned to their respective homes at La Clair.
Bill was sent to school, where he familiarized himself with the alphabet; but further progress was arrested by a suddenly developed love for boating on the Mississippi, which occupied so much of his time that he found no convenient opportunity for attendance at school, his parents, however, not having the slightest idea of his self-imposed employment as a boatman.
Shortly after his removal to La Clair Mr. Cody was chosen justice of the peace, then was elected to the Legislature, positions which he held with honor but without profit.
A natural pioneer, he hunted for new fields of adventure, and following his inclination he disposed of a small ranch he owned, packed his possessions in one carriage and three wagons, and started for the plains of Kansas. Mr. Cody had a brother living at Weston, near the Kansas line, a well-to-do merchant of that place, with whom he stopped until he could decide upon a more desirable location for his family. It was on this trip that Buffalo Bill had his first sight of a negro, of whom he stood in great awe. It was also while on this expedition he ate his first wheat bread, something he had never heard of before, corn-dodgers being the chief staff of life at that time.
Mr. Cody remained but a short while at Weston, when he went to the Kickapoo Agency in Leavenworth, Kan. He established a trading-post at Salt Creek Valley, while he settled his family upon a ranch near by. At that time Kickapoo was occupied by numerous tribes of Indians, who were settled upon the reservations, and through the territory ran the great highway of California and Salt Lake City. In addition to the thousands of gold-seekers who were passing through by way of Fort Leavenworth, there were many Mormons going westward, and this extensive travel made trade profitable. With these caravans were those fractious elements of adventurous pioneering, the typical Westerner, with white sombrero, buckskin clothes, long hair, moccasined feet, and a belt full of murderous bowies and long pistols. Instead of impressing him, however, with trepidation, they inspired in him an ambition to become likewise. Their skillful feats of horsemanship, which he witnessed, bred in him a desire to become an expert rider, and when, at seven years of age, his father gave him a pony the measure of his happiness was filled to overflowing. Thenceforth his occupation was horseback-riding, and he made himself useful to his father in many ways.